#was imagining her as a magical girl as i drew this - though i feel like i shouldve put more detail if that was gonna be the case

[tullecake]

this was supposed to just be a doodle buuuut I got sidetracked I think she looks neat though :]

another version because i love variety --

[lila-went-missing]

Can I have a whipped!Clarisse x sunshine!reader headcannons or one shot idk (could reader be either a Hecate daughter or just unspecified?) :3

Have a nice day/night

Ugh, I love Grumpy X Sunshine.

Clarisse x Sunshine!Reader Headcannons

Okay, literally no one expected you two to start dating.

Plot-twist of the century vibes.

You're so sweet and kind to everyone, offering your magical insight to anyone who asks you.

And she's so tough and brutal all the time, always picking fights with people over the smallest things.

Literal polar opposites, but opposites attract.

I feel like she would be pining over you from the moment you met.

Something about you drew her in. Maybe the way you carried yourself, maybe it was your natural talent for magic.

Either way, she's so whipped for you.

You have her wrapped around your finger without even trying.

I feel like she's the kind of person to practice what she's going to say to you before she actually asks you out.

I can just imagine her pacing around her cabin when no one is around whispering the script she made in preparation.

Because of her dad constantly ignoring her, and what little attention she does get being him telling her that she'll never be good enough, or never as good as her brothers, she has a MASSIVE fear of rejection.

That really plays a role in how she asks you out.

She'd literally be so nervous it's not even funny.

When she does eventually ask you out there is a lot of stuttering and stumbling over words.

You would probably be in your cabin, just finishing brewing a potion when she comes to you.

You can't help but laugh at how nervous she is, finding it rather adorable.

Obviously she gets really offended and tries to leave, telling you to forget she said anything in the first place.

You pull her back to you and kiss her.

"I wasn't laughing to make fun of you, I was laughing because you're cute."

From that moment on, her protectiveness SKYROCKETS.

Someone looks at you wrong? They're in the infirmary getting stitches.

Someone calls you a freak because of your mom being Hecate? She's lost dessert privileges for the next five months.

Eventually you do have to talk to her and tell her to tone it down.

But that just ends in y'all making out on her bed.

How is she supposed to be serious when her girlfriend is sitting there looking so pretty and perfect, and her lips are just so kissable.

SPEAKING OF, you can't tell me this girl isn't obsessed with kissing you.

Doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, she will kiss you at any point in time.

Lips, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, shoulder, you name it.

She could literally be about to break someones bones until you come up.

The mood switch is IMMEDIATE.

From "I will literally murder you." to "Oh hey baby, how was your day." and just kissing all over your face.

It gives everyone whiplash.

But they get used to it eventually.

She's just so in love with you.

You're literally the first person to ever show her what it's like to genuinely be loved and not just wanted as a weapon.

You're the first and only person she says "I love you" to.

You're especially the first person and only person she means it to.

It takes her a while to open up because she hates being perceived as weak or soft. After a while though, she will start coming to you with her problems.

She'll occasionally come to your cabin in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, usually about you dying.

She never wants to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her until she falls back asleep.

Everyone in both of your cabins comes to love y'all.

I like to think that Ares cabin is sworn to a mutual secrecy because almost all of them have someone they sneak in at night to cuddle.

But they all have a reputation to uphold no one talks about it.

If you think regular Clarisse likes to cuddle, Whipped!Clarisse is 10x worse.

She'll never admit it, but cuddling you is one of her favorite things ever.

Her guilty pleasure is laying on your chest or being the little spoon.

She just likes the feeling of being held by the only person she's ever loved.

This ended up being A LOT longer than expected. Sorry (not really) y'all, went on a tangent.

[wavypotatochips]

heyy how are you ??? i had an idea for a neymar imagine, maybe yn is a famous singer and they met in like 2014 at the start of their fame and started hooking up and actually secretly fell in love but they had to break up and stuff bc of their busy schedules. then they meet again 8-9 years later when he goes to her concert with the rest of the psg squad and they tease him bc he's in love with her again but yn and him end up happily ever after and are like an it couple now !! its a long request ik , feel free to ignore it 💞💞

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 | 𝐍𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐉𝐫

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Neymar Jr x Female Reader

Word Count : 5.6k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: My deepest apologies for the wait, ya girl was going THRUUU IT but its all good now c': and never apologize for long request!! The longer the request, more than likely the longer the response [ I also did not think I would end up writing this much LOL] c: And as always, Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!! LOVE ME SOME NEYNEY MMMMMM

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Requests are currently closed as I am catching up. mwah mwah love ya! ♥

“Like a summer evening under the sun

Oh, darling

And maybe, just maybe

We could fill our memories one by one

Mangoes are candy with you

My donuts and pies need no glazing with you”

You stand in front of your grandmother's restaurant, clutching the microphone in your hand. You've always dreamed of becoming a famous singer, but you know that you have to start small. Luckily, your grandmother has given you the opportunity to sing every Friday night in front of her restaurant. Your passion lies in singing romantic ballads, inspired by the love your Grandmother and Grandfather share. Their bond is pure and timeless, and witnessing it fills you with hope for your own future love story. You close your eyes and begin to sing, pouring your heart and soul into the melody. The audience is small, but their applause is thunderous, and you know that this is just the beginning of your journey to stardom. As you finished singing your final song and thanked the small crowd for their cheers, little did you know that this would be the night that would change everything. 

 Neymar, a rising soccer star, happened upon your performance while on his way home. The sweet melodies that echoed from your soul drew him in, and he found himself unable to tear himself away. The crowd around you grew insignificant, as his eyes fixated on you and your beautiful features. Your voice enraptured him, leaving him lost in thought as he listened to your songs until the end. Even though he wished it would have never ended. As he made his way home, the memory of your performance stayed with him. Neymar was overwhelmed with unfamiliar emotions, his heart skipping a beat in a way he had never experienced before. He tried to shake off the feeling, knowing that his focus should be on futbol. However, the thoughts of you and your beautiful voice lingered, and he found himself daydreaming about the way your eyes lit up seeing the crowd cheer for you, and your beautiful smile across your face. He knew he shouldn't be thinking like this, but the sparks that flew that night were undeniable and he couldn't resist the pull towards you, even though he has yet to speak with you.  His heart raced as he returned to the same spot the next Friday, eagerly hoping to catch another glimpse of you and your voice, and he wasn't disappointed. As soon as he saw you, his heart skipped a beat. He felt nervous and excited all at the same time.

As you begin to sing, the music swirls around Neymar, embracing him in its beauty. Your voice resonates deep within his soul, igniting a fire that only grows stronger with each note. He finds himself entranced by your presence once again, losing himself in the magic you create. The way your lipgloss glistens on your lips while you hold the microphone makes Neymar wish he could feel them against his own, and oh, don't get him started on your beautiful face.

The passion in your performance is undeniable, and Neymar's heart beats faster with each passing moment. The melodies you weave seem to speak directly to him, resonating with dreams and desires he has never dared to acknowledge. He can't help but imagine a life where your voices intertwine in harmony both on and off the stage.

As the final notes of the song linger in the air, you look directly into the crowd. Your eyes land on a pair of hazel eyes, and when you recognize the face they are paired with, you almost don't hold your last note. The moment your eyes meet his, Neymar's heart skips a beat. You quickly look away, finishing your note with a small blush appearing on your face as the crowd erupts in applause. His eyes never leave you as he claps, his admiration and awe shining brightly. He wants to approach you, to tell you how your voice has touched him deeply, but he can't find the words. Instead, he lingers in the crowd, hoping for an opportunity to connect with you.

After the performance, you walk over and grab your small tip jar. Neymar musters the courage to approach you. He catches your eye, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Nervously, he greets you, "Your voice is really beautiful," he says, going straight to the point. As he is now closer to you than before, you can really see his handsome features. You can't tell if it's due to the full moon tonight or what, but he looks as if he's glowing—truly mesmerizing. Hearing him let out a small laugh makes you realize you've been staring at him for a bit without giving a response. You shake your head briefly, letting out a small laugh, "T-Thank you so much," you stutter slightly, not used to someone as attractive as him trying to talk to you. Neymar finds it adorable, causing his smile to widen. He says, "Of course, pretty," biting his bottom lip as if contemplating on saying something. "Hey, are you about to go do something?" You shake your head no. "Would you like to join me for some ice cream?" He points down the street. "There's a street vendor down the street, and his homemade ice cream is amazing!" 

As Neymar stands there, awaiting your response, a whirlwind of thoughts collides in your mind. Is this really happening? Are you being asked out right now? It feels like a scene lifted straight from a romantic movie or the pages of a captivating novel. The rush of emotions surges within you, and you pinch yourself inwardly to ensure you're not dreaming. You steady your voice and respond with a composed smile, "Sure, I wouldn't mind. Just give me one moment; I have to let my Grandmother know so she doesn't freak out." He smiles, nodding his head. "Of course, take your time."

You find it hard to believe that you, an ordinary person with dreams and aspirations, are about to embark on an unexpected adventure with someone as incredibly handsome as him. It's a surreal moment that surpasses anything you've ever imagined 

You quickly make your way over to your grandmother, who has been observing the interaction from afar. Her eyes twinkle with a knowing look as you share your plans with her. "Grandma, I'm going to get ice cream with a friend. Don't worry, I'll be back soon," you assure her, though your own excitement and uncertainty are evident. She raises an eyebrow cheekily and questions, "A friend, huh?" You feel a blush creep onto your face once again as you hand her your tip jar. "Bye Grandma, I love you," you say with affection. She smiles warmly and replies, "I love you too, baby. Don't be back too late! I may need help preparing Caldo Verde for tomorrow." You nod in agreement as you share a heartfelt hug, feeling her soft kiss on your cheek.

As you make your way back to Neymar, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nerves. He waits patiently, his gaze fixed on you, and it both thrills and unnerves you. You take a moment to compose yourself, straightening your posture and gathering the courage to face this newfound connection head-on.

"Ready?" Neymar questions with a playful glimmer in his eyes, his smile mirroring your own anticipation. You nod your head, unable to contain the excitement bubbling within you. "Yes, I'm ready," you reply, feeling a surge of butterflies flutter in your stomach. As the two of you begin walking towards the ice cream vendor, a comfortable silence settles between you. The air is filled with a mix of warm summer breeze and the sweet scent of blossoming flowers, creating a picturesque setting for this enchanting encounter. Neymar breaks the silence with a mischievous smirk, "You know, I have a feeling this ice cream is no match for the sweetness of your smile." His playful tone tugs at your heartstrings, and you play along, batting your eyelashes. "Oh, is that so? Well, I guess I'll have to make sure to smile extra sweetly then," you reply, feigning innocence, as a light-hearted teasing dance begins. As you continue walking side by side, the banter between you becomes effortless. Neymar teases you about your favorite ice cream flavors, suggesting that your taste buds might be missing out on the full experience. You counter his playful jabs with witty comebacks, keeping the atmosphere light and carefree. In between the laughter and teasing, you share snippets of your dreams and aspirations, exploring the depths of your personalities with genuine curiosity. Neymar listens intently, his eyes sparkling with amusement and admiration. He peppers the conversation with compliments that make your cheeks flush, but you appreciate the way his words make you feel seen and valued. The ice cream vendor finally comes into view, and Neymar playfully nudges your arm. "Alright, it's decision time. Choose wisely, because I have a feeling my taste buds won't settle for anything less than extraordinary." You playfully roll your eyes, pretending to contemplate your options. "Well, I'll have to find something that matches your extraordinary standards then," you quip back, sharing a mischievous smile. Together, you approach the cart, ready to indulge in the delightful treats it has to offer. As you savor the flavors and continue to exchange playful banter, you can't help but feel a deepening connection forming, one that is built on shared laughter, light-hearted teasing, and the promise of a captivating journey ahead.

Over the next few weeks, the bond between you and Neymar deepened with each passing day. What started as a chance encounter at your grandmother's restaurant blossomed into a whirlwind romance that neither of you could have anticipated. Laughter, shared interests, and stolen glances became the foundation of your connection.

As the days turned into months and the months turned into years, your relationship with Neymar grew stronger. You supported each other's dreams wholeheartedly, and as fate would have it, both of you began to ascend the ladder of fame in your respective careers. Neymar became a household name as a professional heartthrob soccer player, captivating audiences with his skill and charm on the field. Meanwhile, your voice enchanted millions around the world, elevating you to the status of a renowned singer, captivating hearts with your soul-stirring performances. Life seemed perfect. Together, you conquered milestones, basked in the adoration of fans, and reveled in the love that intertwined your lives. But as the demands of fame and the pressures of your individual careers increased, the delicate balance between love and ambition became increasingly challenging to maintain. With Neymar's soccer schedule becoming more demanding, you found yourselves constantly rescheduling dinner dates, postponing moments meant for just the two of you. The promises made in the early days of your relationship were slowly overshadowed by the unrelenting obligations of his profession. Though he tried his best to juggle both his career and your relationship, the constant conflicts began to take a toll on your connection. The realization hit you like a tidal wave crashing against the shore—you and Neymar were slowly drifting apart. The time you once cherished together became fleeting, filled with missed opportunities and unfulfilled promises. It wasn't that the love between you had faded; it was simply suffocated by the relentless demands of fame. After much soul-searching and tearful conversations, you both came to a heartbreaking decision. It was time to let go, to release each other from the expectations and sacrifices that had weighed you down. The breakup was bittersweet, a mixture of pain and gratitude for the beautiful memories you had created together. In the aftermath, you focused on healing and rediscovering yourself as an individual. It wasn't easy, as reminders of Neymar and your past love were scattered throughout your daily life. But as time passed, wounds slowly healed, and you found solace in your music, pouring your emotions into your performances. Years went by, and both you and Neymar continued to rise in your respective careers, reaching new heights of success. The memories of your time together became a part of the tapestry of your lives, lessons learned and cherished moments that shaped you. Sometimes, the universe has its own plans, and the timing just isn't right. Despite the heartache of your breakup, you both emerged stronger and more resilient. And who knows, perhaps one day, when the stars align and destiny weaves its magic, your paths may cross again, reigniting the flames of a love that once burned so brightly.

8 years post breakup - 

 Yesterday, In the PSG team locker room, the players gathered around as the coach announced the upcoming charity event. 

"Listen up, boys," the coach began, his voice commanding attention. "We're hosting a charity event tomorrow, and it's mandatory for all of you to be there. It's going to be a fantastic evening with a live concert, though I'm not sure who the performer is yet. So make sure you're ready to represent PSG and make a difference."

Today, the charity event was in full swing. The venue sparkled with elegance, adorned with dazzling lights and an air of anticipation. Neymar, Messi, and Mbappé, dressed in their dapper suits, found themselves caught up in the excitement as they engaged in a brief interview, capturing the attention of reporters and fans alike.

The interviewer, with a microphone in hand, directed a question towards Neymar. "Neymar, the event tonight is for a noble cause. How do you feel about being a part of it?"

Neymar's eyes lit up with a genuine smile as he replied, "It's an incredible feeling to be involved in such a meaningful event. Giving back to the community is something we all believe in, and to have the opportunity to make a positive impact is truly special."

The interviewer nodded in agreement, then continued, "And there's a lot of speculation about who the surprise live performer is. Any guesses or wishes?"

Neymar chuckled, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Well, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, but I'm personally hoping for a remarkable singer with a voice that can touch your soul."

Messi and Mbappé joined in the lighthearted banter, playfully speculating on the potential performer, their camaraderie evident in their laughter and easygoing exchange.

As the interview came to a close, Neymar glanced around the buzzing venue, feeling a sense of nostalgia. 

Because he didn't want to bring up the subject of you, Neymar has solely avoided concert settings since the breakup, besides from clubs of course. You and him had made the difficult decision to part ways after the breakup, believing that distance and limited contact would help heal the wounds and move on with your lives. The initial separation was challenging for both of you, as the absence of each other's presence left a void that seemed impossible to fill. Neymar, in particular, found it hard to adjust to the new reality of not having you by his side. The nights felt lonelier without your comforting presence, and the routine of sharing his life with you became a bittersweet memory. Six years spent together had forged a deep connection, and it was no easy task to sever those ties completely.

He couldn't help but wonder if fate had a role to play in this event, if there was a chance encounter awaiting him amidst the excitement and the live performance.

Little did Neymar know, the past and present were about to converge in a way he could never have anticipated, igniting a spark of hope and possibility that had long been dormant in his heart.

~Meanwhile, backstage.~

"The stage is set, and the mic is ready," your manager's voice resonates with a mix of excitement and apprehension. As she carefully adjusts your earpiece, you take a deep breath, feeling the surge of anticipation building up inside you. The designer crew hovers around you, their skilled hands putting the final touches on your breathtaking white dress. The delicate lace patterns cascade down its flowing silhouette, accentuating your elegance and radiating an ethereal beauty that perfectly complements your stage presence.

Though the specific details of the event remain unknown to you, you're aware that it's for a charitable cause, reaching a vast audience through the live stream. The whirlwind of your busy tour schedule has left little time for you to delve into the specifics, but the opportunity to contribute to a worthy cause fills you with a profound sense of purpose and joy. As your manager steps away, you catch a glimpse of her biting her bottom lip—a subtle sign of nerves. At first, you assume it's merely her concern for your well-being after the grueling tour, wanting to ensure you don't overexert yourself. Unbeknownst to you, however, she carries a deeper worry in her mind. She's aware of your past with Neymar, knowing that the unexpected encounter with him at this event could awaken dormant emotions and memories. The stage manager signals that it's time to make your entrance. Taking one last glance in the mirror and adding a final touch to your hair, you stride toward the stage.  As the curtains part, revealing the dazzling setup, you step forward, your presence commanding the attention of the audience. The spotlight finds you, casting its warm glow upon you, as you raise the microphone to your lips.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" Your voice resonates through the air, instantly capturing the attention of the crowd. Gasps of surprise and the sound of hands clapping reverberate throughout the venue, a testament to the unexpected delight of your presence. A warm smile graces your face as you soak in the genuine excitement that fills the room. Taking a moment to appreciate the sea of faces before you, you turn your gaze towards the camera, ensuring that your message reaches not only those in the venue but also the countless viewers joining from afar.

"Tonight, we come together for a cause that holds a special place in my heart." Your voice carries a depth of sincerity, inviting the audience to truly grasp the significance of the moment. You pause for a moment, allowing the words to sink in.

"I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to ChildLifeMatters for the incredible work they do in raising awareness and supporting children in need. Together, we have the power to make a difference, to bring hope and joy into the lives of those who need it most. Tonight, through the universal language of music, we unite in spreading love, compassion, and raising awareness for a brighter future."

The applause swells, filling the room with a wave of appreciation and support. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, but also the strength of the cause that fuels your passion.

Little do you know, the universe has orchestrated a twist of fate for this event, preparing an unexpected reunion with Neymar that lies just around the corner.

"Neymar, hurry up! I am not going to get yelled at by the coach because of you," Marquinhos exclaims, playfully nudging Neymar as he catches him taking yet another selfie. The team is eager to head to the main venue area for the charity event.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," Neymar mutters, reluctantly sliding his phone into his back pocket. As he approaches the stage, a flicker of recognition crosses his face, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. He quickly dismisses the thought, attributing it to his mind playing tricks on him.

Entering the bustling venue, Neymar exchanges greetings with his teammates, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they observe his slightly puzzled expression. Kylian, in particular, nudges his head towards the stage, hinting at something intriguing. Curiosity piqued, Neymar turns around, and in that moment, his heart feels as if it bursts out of his chest.

There you are, standing confidently on the stage, a vision of grace and talent. Mesmerized, Neymar's gaze locks onto you, and a flood of memories rushes back, transporting him to a time when you were once intertwined in each other's lives. The familiar warmth and tenderness resurface, evoking emotions he thought he had long buried.

"Whoa, Neymar, is that your lost love?" one teammate playfully teases, unable to resist the opportunity for some light-hearted banter.

A slight blush colors Neymar's cheeks, but he manages a playful smirk, attempting to brush off the teasing. "Lost love? Nah, just an old friend," he responds, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity.

However, his teammates aren't fooled by his nonchalant demeanor. They exchange knowing glances, their playful expressions betraying their understanding of the emotions swirling within Neymar's heart.

As the banter continues among his teammates, Neymar's attention remains fixated on you, the focal point of the stage. He can't help but be captivated by your presence, the way you command the attention of the audience with every note and movement. It's as if time has stood still, and all that matters in this moment is the magnetic pull between the two of you.

Memories flood Neymar's mind, snapshots of laughter, shared dreams, and stolen glances. He recalls the way your voice used to fill his world with joy, how it resonated deep within his soul. The bond they once shared was unbreakable, and even after all these years, the connection still lingers, refusing to fade away.

Lost in the rush of emotions, Neymar finds himself longing for the chance to rewind time, to rekindle the fire that once burned between you two.

As you found yourself on stage, surrounded by the dreamy backdrop that perfectly complemented the ethereal atmosphere, your heart raced with anticipation. The familiar melodies of the song flowed through your veins, but as your mouth opened to sing the first note, your voice momentarily faltered. Your eyes locked with Neymar, a magnetic connection that transcended the sea of faces in the crowd. It felt as if time stood still, and in that moment, memories flooded back, crashing over you like a wave. Images of laughter, shared moments, and the love you once held together washed over your mind. The depth of emotion in Neymar's gaze mirrored your own, and you couldn't help but offer him a small, knowing smile—a silent acknowledgment of the bond you once shared. You start singing,

“ I never thought you'd be the one

To hold my heart

I never knew I'd think of you

Each time that we're apart

Each Day

I'll be the one missing your face

And all that you are

Save me

I promise I'd stay here by your side

And I know from the start

When I look into your eyes

I know that I'm mesmerized

Baby

Just hold me

When you're here I realized

I'll be the one to testify

Baby

Say that you're mine tonight.”

With every word that poured out of your soul, you poured your heart out to the world, including Neymar. The lyrics resonated with the depths of your emotions, speaking to the love that still lingered within. You were unafraid to let your eyes linger on Neymar, disregarding the curious glances from the crowd who assumed your gaze was lost among the many faces. Neymar, however, knew. He felt the intensity of your gaze, and his heart raced in response.

But soon, you broke the enchanted connection, letting your eyes wander across the sea of faces before you. The crowd erupted in applause, their appreciation evident. You couldn't help but steal glances at the cameras, ensuring that your performance reached those watching through the live stream, while still cherishing the shared moments with the live audience.

In that moment, the stage became a place where the past intertwined with the present, where your music became a conduit for unspoken emotions, and where destiny gently guided your paths to intersect once again.

 As the melody of your voice fills the air, Neymar's heart beats in sync, each note igniting a flicker of hope within him. He wonders if you still remember the love you two shared, if the memories that haunt him also linger within you. The desire to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, grows stronger with every passing second.

But for now, Neymar remains rooted in his seat, a swirl of emotions beneath his composed exterior. He continues to watch, mesmerized by your performance, caught in a bittersweet symphony of longing and admiration. The teasing remarks from his teammates fade into the background, as all that matters is the connection he shares with you, a connection that time and distance could never truly erase.

As you continued to serenade the crowd with several more enchanting songs, the energy in the venue soared. The atmosphere crackled with excitement as your voice resonated through the air, captivating hearts and inspiring generous donations for the charitable cause. You effortlessly engaged with the audience, sharing smiles, laughter, and heartfelt moments that deepened the connection between you and your fans.

After the fifth song, you took a moment to address the crowd once again, expressing your gratitude for their support and encouraging them to embrace the upcoming performance by the next artist. The spotlight gracefully shifted, illuminating the stage for the next singer, and you stepped aside, basking in the sense of accomplishment that washed over you.

As you made your way backstage, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts consumed your mind. Neymar's presence had awakened a dormant flame within you, stirring a mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and a hint of longing. Memories of your time together intertwined with the energy of the performance, leaving you with a bittersweet yearning for what once was.

Meanwhile, as soon as you exited the stage, Neymar's teammates seized the opportunity to playfully tease him. Their mischievous grins and banter revolved around your beauty and their supposed attempts to secure your phone number. Their intentions were light-hearted, aimed at evoking a hint of jealousy in Neymar, but his response was measured and composed.

Neymar, briefly acknowledging their teasing, gracefully brushed it off with a confident smile and a witty remark. Deep down, however, his heart raced, urging him to find you once more. He swiftly excused himself from the camaraderie of his teammates, determined to catch up with you and unravel the feelings that had reawakened in his soul.

As Neymar dashed through the backstage corridors, his mind focused on the mission at hand—to find you, to bridge the gap of time and space, and to confront the emotions that swirled within both your hearts. Destiny beckoned, weaving its intricate tapestry, and the next chapter of your intertwined journey was about to unfold.

As Neymar hurried through the backstage area, his heart pounded in his chest, fueled by a mix of anticipation, nervousness, and hope. He navigated the bustling corridors, occasionally catching glimpses of familiar faces and hearing snippets of conversations that heightened his eagerness to find you.

Finally, he spotted you standing in a quieter corner, your back turned to him as you engaged in a conversation with one of the event organizers. Neymar's steps faltered for a moment, his gaze fixated on your figure, taking in the way you held yourself with poise and grace. The years apart had done nothing to diminish your magnetic presence.

Summoning his courage, Neymar approached you, his voice laced with a mix of hesitance and sincerity. "Excuse me," he interjected, capturing your attention as the event organizer excused themselves. As you turned to face him, your eyes widened in surprise, a myriad of emotions dancing in their depths.

There was a brief pause, as both of you stood there, speechless, caught in the gravity of the moment. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that intimate space. Neymar's eyes searched yours, finding a familiar connection that reignited the sparks of the past.

"I... I don't even know where to begin," Neymar admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Seeing you up there on stage, it brought back so many memories, so many feelings. It's like time stood still for a moment." You were at a loss for words, so you remained silent. Of course, you shared that sentiment, but for some reason, you refrained from saying anything.

As the weight of the shared history hung in the air, Neymar took a deep breath, his voice filled with a mixture of sincerity and longing. "I've thought about this moment countless times, wondering if we would ever have a chance to reconnect. Seeing you here tonight, it's like a dream come true."

Your eyes met his, shimmering with a hint of apprehension and yearning. "Neymar, I never imagined I would see you again like this. It's been so long, and yet... the emotions, the memories, they're still so vivid……"

A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of Neymar's lips as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "Time may have passed, but my feelings for you never faded. I've carried a piece of you with me all these years."

Your breath caught in your throat, feeling the weight of his words echoing in your heart. The realization of the enduring connection between you filled the space between you, drawing you closer, as if the universe had conspired to reunite your souls.

"I've missed you," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice matching Neymar's.

His eyes softened, conveying a profound tenderness. "I've missed you too, more than words can express. Life took us on different paths, but my heart never stopped yearning for the love we shared."

As the world continued to buzz around you, the shared moment felt timeless, cocooned in its own universe. It was as if the echoes of the past intertwined with the possibilities of the future, offering a second chance for love to unfold.

"I want to make things right this time," Neymar said, his voice filled with determination. "Let's start anew, together. Of course, we will start off slow. But Baby, I will be such a fool to lose you again.”

A surge of hope washed over you, igniting a spark within. With a smile that reflected both forgiveness and a willingness to embrace the unknown, you replied, "Yes… I think…. I would like that very much."

In that moment, as the world continued to swirl around you both, Neymar and you embarked on a journey of reconciliation and rediscovery. With hearts open to love's infinite possibilities, you stepped forward, ready to rewrite your story, guided by the enduring bond that fate had rekindled.

"Are you doing anything after this?" Neymar's voice carries a playful lilt, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Your head shakes in response, a smile spreading across your face, mirroring his infectious joy.

"Great. Well, there's this ice cream vendor I know just up the street we could go to," he suggests, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes reflecting the memories of your early encounters. Laughter dances in the air as you playfully hit his chest, a gentle reminder of the playful banter that once defined your connection.

Neymar chuckles, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "What? I'm serious!" His smile widens, his eyes shining with warmth and sincerity. The familiarity of his words resonates deeply, reminding you of the carefree moments you shared when your love story was just beginning to unfold.

A gentle teasing remark escapes your lips. "You are such a dork," you playfully chide, finding solace in the comfort of his arms. As you wrap your arms around his chest, leaning your head against his heartbeat, a sense of serenity envelops you.

With graceful tenderness, Neymar tightens his embrace, a silent promise not to let go. In that moment, as the world continues to spin around you, you revel in the joy of rediscovered love, knowing that this time, you and Neymar will create new memories, hand in hand, embracing the dorkiness, laughter, and love that define your extraordinary journey together.

You and Neymar continue to chat, relishing in the familiar comfort and the excitement of a renewed connection. Time slips away effortlessly as you share stories, laughter, and dreams for the future. However, as the event draws to a close, the demands of the evening pull you both in different directions. With a promise to reconnect, you exchange heartfelt goodbyes, knowing that this time, it won't be long before your paths intertwine once again. As you part ways, a sense of anticipation lingers, each step carrying the promise of a future filled with love, happiness, and shared adventures.

True to your word, you begin to rebuild the bridge between you. Messages and calls become more frequent, filled with laughter, shared memories, and a genuine curiosity about each other's lives. Slowly but surely, the distance that once separated you begins to shrink, making way for a blossoming bond that refuses to be ignored.

In the months that follow, your connection deepens and evolves. Dates are filled with laughter, stolen glances, and the sweet nostalgia of rediscovered love. Each moment spent together feels like a beautiful reunion, as if fate has brought you back together to create a love story even more extraordinary than before.

As news of your rekindled romance spreads, Brasil can't help but celebrate the return of their beloved "it" couple. And with every passing day, your bond grows stronger, fortified by the lessons learned from your past and a shared commitment to prioritize each other. Together, you build a foundation of trust, support, and unwavering dedication, creating a love that withstands the tests of time and captures the hearts of millions.

[quibbs126]

Alright, this kid has been fully finished since like, Monday, I’ve just been too lazy to post him, but now I’m gonna post him, this is Black Choco Cookie

As you can see, this is yet another darklico kid. I’m sorry. But he’ll be the last one I do; I already semi had plans for him when I made Licorice Cream, it’s just that I decided to just do Licorice Cream. But then the night prior to making him, I was thinking about ideas for him and just drew this the next morning

The only other darklico kid thing I plan to do is redesign Gancao, since her look really doesn’t match her name, and it bothers me. Either that or her name changes. But fundamentally she’ll still be the same character

Anyways back to Black Choco, so with his name, he’s dark chocolate like his father. His name is just Black Choco because while he’s chocolate, he supposed to have this smell of licorice about him

Maybe he’s these chocolate licorice brownie cookies I found online that one time. But his name is still Black Choco

Anyways, let’s get into his design

So you’ll notice he looks very similar to Dark Choco except for the eyes. Well that’s because he’s the third one of these, and frankly I feel like the girls look enough like Licorice, so might as well have one of the kids be the Dark Choco clone like Dark Choco is to his own father. I think the fact he’s the third of these I’ve made is the only reason I allow him to look mostly like one parent and be the clone

But I finally gave one of them Licorice’s yellow eyes, so that’s good. I’ve been wanting one of them to have the yellow eyes and white eye lines since Gancao, it just didn’t work with her or Licorice Cream. Though I changed up the yellow slightly so that it’d work better with the white

I based Black Choco’s look off of the young design of Dark Choco in the artbook, since his sisters all look like they live in the Dark Cacao Kingdom too (the three are all supposed to exist in the same universe as siblings), and he’s supposed to want to be a fighter like his dad. Also with the brown it makes him look like the cookies I showed above. That wasn’t the intention but I like that

I think the way his hair looks was supposed to be inspired by how Licorice’s hair, like specifically in how it’s parted or something, but looking at it again I can’t really see that

I just realized the drawing I have of Black Choco here is with his gradient. I wasn’t sure if I should give him one; I did it so he’d look at least a little closer to Licorice, but I wasn’t sure it worked well. Ah well, I suppose you tell me

Anyways, so let’s get into his character

So Black Choco is a shy and a bit anxious kid, as well as someone who gets spooked easily, as shown in one of the sketches. He’s also generally quiet and soft spoken, not very capable of loud noises. But despite his timid nature, he’s a good kid who just wants to help people

He greatly admires his father, Dark Choco, and wants to be like him, which is part of the reason he wants to be a warrior. Thankfully for Black Choco, I imagine Dark Choco to be more openly affectionate than Dark Cacao was, so Black Choco isn’t gonna grow up with those same parental issues. But unfortunately, Black Choco isn’t as great with a sword and fighting, especially since he tends to accidentally drop his sword. But he does want to learn, and he tries hard to overcome this

Despite this however, he does know magic, and he’s actually very skilled at it, far more than he is at fighting. However, he chooses instead to become a warrior. Perhaps in the future, he learns to try and do both, combining his skills and becoming a warrior that uses both sword fighting skills and magic, becoming a real powerhouse

Now, as for his connection to his siblings, I’m not sure, as some of it depends on his age compared to them. I want to make Black Choco Licorice Cream’s twin, probably since I imagined Black Choco as a child and I drew Licorice Cream as one too, but also I don’t think I can really do that since Licorice Cream herself has a particularly unique origin, one that Black Choco doesn’t necessarily fit in to. Not only that, but I think I drew Licorice Cream as a child because I couldn’t figure out what to do for her other than her origin and possible connection to dark magic and the Strawberry Jam Sword. She’s technically supposed to be the older than Gancao, and I imagine Black Choco to be a child. But at the same time, I can really see Black Choco and Licorice Cream as a twin duo, and I like that concept, especially since personality wise, they’re pretty different, Licorice Cream being an extrovert while Black Choco is the introvert, for example. But it just doesn’t work with what Licorice Cream actually is

*sigh* I think I’m gonna need to do a redesign with all three of them, putting them on the same canvas and figuring out definitively what order they’re in and their ages relative to one another. Though Black Choco I don’t see changing much, he’s fine as he is

I suppose for now, Black Choco is the youngest of the three

But in any case, I think that’s it for Black Choco. To be honest, I feel like sometimes, I put too much into these characters and should just try to keep them simple, which is sort of what I tried to do with Black Choco here

But in any case, I hope you like him

[starryserenade]

Mickey and Minnie: Firebird

Description: A short mice drabble based on a concept @thebigpalooka and I had discussed. She was largely responsible for the second set of dialogue after their meeting...and it broke my heart in the best way, so of course I had to use it here.

Setting is a Firebird sort of situation, inspired by both the ballet and the Fantasia segment, and whatever else we wanted to throw in. Minnie is the Firebird--the protector of the forest--and Mickey is a heroic prince who saved her once upon a time. This bit here occurs near the end of the story we'd set up <3

AO3

~~~~

He saw her in every precious gleam of nature. In the fiery sunsets of summer, the colors of autumn, the chill of winter, the rosebuds of spring. Her touch, her breath of beauty and passion lay upon it all. A kiss, gentle and sweet. Sometimes, he liked to imagine it was for him–when the wind would tousle his fur and leave him laughing, clinging to his cloak, or a star would streak across the sky and leave a trail so bright he was sure it was her weaving pathways he might one day be able to follow. 

It didn’t dull the ache, though, when such signs departed from view and he was left to return to his chambers alone. He left the window open each night, so that dreams of her might be carried along with the breeze. And he did dream of her, almost every time he closed his eyes. Sometimes those dreams were warm and loving, and she’d be there before him again, as radiant as ever, smiling and holding out her arms so he might sweep her away. Other nights he’d watch her as she left him, as he had all that time ago–when the color had returned to her body and the light to her eyes, blossoming as though she herself had been a flower all along. Mickey had carried her then, as she’d asked him to, and he had never been able to forget the breath she’d taken after those first few steps, when she’d seen the place where her tears had fallen. Where life was beginning to return to the scorched earth. 

Some days he regretted not having said a word. But he’d seen her whole spirit return to her then, and when she’d lifted her hands to the sky she had been filled with such vigor and strength, he knew he could never have held her back. Not even to say goodbye. 

He turned his hand over, recalling the feeling as she’d leapt from his fingertips with a step lighter than any bird could have managed. She had seemed an angel then, and that was his last memory of her. Of a girl like a faerie, rising into the clouds, showering all the earth with life and color. 

There had been a part of him…well, far more than a part of him...that had hoped she might have returned. That they might have… Ah, it was pointless to dream of those things. She was an ethereal being. She was the essence of hope and nature and rebirth itself, a creature of magic with a wild and fiery spirit that was never meant to be tamed. 

And…Mickey loved her. He always would, and he knew he’d never be able to claim otherwise, not now. Not having seen her smile, or felt her touch, or seen the kindness and fear in her eyes. Though he hoped the fear was gone now, as it had been when she left him. That was all he could ever wish for, that wherever she was, she was free, and she was happy. 

But he never did stop looking, with those cheerful eyes of his that seemed always touched with sadness. He was looking now, as he brought that hand to his lips and drew in a shaky breath, leaning out over the balcony. His crown and robes had long since been abandoned, tossed haphazardly on the bed with the setting of the sun. He’d put them away later, but for now he wanted to watch. It was a special night, after all, with the light of the full moon already clipped by shadow. Just like it had been on the night he’d first seen her, so very long ago.

He stretched out his arms, letting out a little squeak, and blinked sleepily, with no intention of retiring anytime soon. The night was cool, and stars twinkled brightly, and the forest felt like it was calling to him again, stretching out past the fields that flanked the castle. Mickey grinned. 

He left a note for Donald, just in case, though he doubted his friend would wonder where he’d gone. If you were close to Mickey, you knew he loved the forest. Knew that if he wasn’t here when you called, he was out among the rustling leaves and the river, traipsing through underbrush looking for something he never seemed able to find. But it brought him joy, and he’d always return with a bit more life in his eyes, so no one said a thing…though his closest friends could always see the longing in his gaze. It never did stop growing. 

His horse whinnied as he urged it onward, that wild feeling settling in his chest as those hooves trotted over the drawbridge, then burst into a gallop the moment they touched the grass.  He’d chosen a plain brown cloak, and it fluttered behind him now, catching the wind in dramatic fashion. Mickey hollered, cherishing these moments of freedom. They came so rarely now, with all there was to do as king. But this…it was like things used to be. Almost.

The forest grew nearer, dusted with moonlight that graced the autumn leaves. He could almost hear them now, as the wind picked up and swept through the branches, and he watched the trees with growing anticipation. His heart swelled. So many memories were held within their grasp, under their canopy. Even the border of the forest, where the fields met with a wilder expanse, held an essence of–

He blinked, as a flurry of leaves were tossed into the air and fluttered about, just outside the forest. They glittered and for a moment, just a moment, he could have sworn the moonlight that passed through them had settled on a familiar form.  

The world froze, and Mickey held his breath, his eyes growing wide. He hardly dared to believe it, and yet…

Hope is terribly convincing. 

When they settled on the ground, the form was gone. But Mickey didn’t care. It was exactly how it had happened before, exactly how he’d seen her that very first time. A very wild look came into his eyes and he cried out, urging his steed to go even faster than it was before. Years of pent up loneliness and heartache fueled him now, filled him with a desperation beyond compare. 

The moment his steed reared up as they reached the trees, Mickey leapt off and hit the ground running, stumbling over himself and gathering his footing just in time to keep pace. He could see a light blazing ahead, gleaming, darting from place to place and growing smaller with every moment that passed. He raced after it with all he had. Branches and thorns tore at his clothing, ripped through his tunic and bloodied his skin, but he hardly felt it.  He could only think of her, of any faint possibility that he might see her one last time, might even get to hold her in his arms.

The more he ran, the more his lungs burned and his vision blurred through the tears that lingered in his eyes. He needed her. He needed her. He needed her.  

He burst into a clearing flooded with the last threads of moonlight, and all at once, that fiery light vanished. Mickey stopped, gasping for air, his eyes darting wildly across every corner, to every branch and shadow.  His chest was heaving, his whole outfit tattered, and his fur matted with dirt and blood. Those breaths faltered then, hitched in his throat, left him trembling. 

He’d been so certain. So sure…so…

Foolish.

His legs gave out from under him, as he glanced at his surroundings. It was his memories that had led him here, he realized with a sharp jab of pain in his chest. The ground still held a faint layer of ash and soot, and the trees nearby were blackened by some past flame–a fire he remembered all too well. 

Right at the center of it all stood the reminder of what had happened here. A beautiful tree in everlasting bloom stood swaying in the gentle breeze of night. Its petals seemed to radiate with a glow of their own as the moonlight graced their surface. It was lovely. Enchanting. 

Mickey dug his fingers into the dirt at the sight of it all.

Up until now, he’d thought himself perfectly fine. Or something like it. Thought he’d been strong enough to move on without her here, or at least able to manage. And maybe, deep inside, he was. But in this moment, sitting face to face with evidence of their farewell, he felt for certain he’d been wrong. That loneliness and longing and heartache came crashing in all at once and though he didn’t cry–didn’t have the strength to–he drew in a shaky breath and buried his face in his hands.

“I miss you so much…” 

He sat like that for a while, shuddering with emotion, unable and unwilling to move, or even lift his head. The moonlight grew fainter, shadowed, and tinged with a fiery red that he didn’t see. But the whole forest thrummed in its wake, those autumn colors sparking to life like tongues of flame. And the tree before him–-those milky-white petals–-began to stir with the wind. 

It began gently, like a whisper, then began to grow into something greater. Soon, the blossoms were swept up in the whirlwind, now dyed with the same crimson that had flooded the rest of the forest–only brighter. As the wind rose and the sound grew and those petals released a blazing burst of light, Mickey finally lifted his eyes.

Before them, untouched by the howling wind, fluttered a single scarlet feather. Mickey’s lips parted breathlessly, and he stretched out his hand.

In the moment it graced his skin, the cyclone of petals blazed so bright that Mickey cried out and had to lift his hand to shield his eyes. But through the gaps in his fingers, he watched as he always had, though now there was something else in his stare. Tentative, cautious hope, and an ever-growing sense of disbelief.

The petals were no longer petals, but real tongues of fire. Those snaking flames came together like wings, formed the shape of a grand bird in their midst. It stretched above the mass of fire, arching over the tree with great, roaring feathers as it lifted its neck, craned its beak towards the sky. It beat its wings once, then lowered its gaze towards Mickey.

Their eyes met, and in the next second, the flames gathered again, spiraled upwards until the bird was gone. Mickey reached out, utterly terrified the flames would vanish entirely, and he’d be left alone all over again.

But as they shrank, they dimmed, and took shape, and ribboned around themselves. And when they had settled, they released a final flare of bright light.

Mickey drew in a breath. 

She was there, in a shower of sparks and lingering embers. Her body was wrapped in those ribbons of fire, only now pieces of them returned to their flowery state, formed a glittering bodice, even as the rest of the flames wound about her hips and fell to the ground, trailing behind her in beautiful ribbons of golden light. Her arms were arched over her head, as the Firebird’s wings had been only moments ago, and a curtain of sparks fell down from them like magic. As the wind died down, she swayed lightly, and brought her hands down, drawing in a shuddering breath as her eyes fluttered open. 

They landed on Mickey, and filled with tears.

Her lips formed his name, though no sound emerged. Before the last lingering petals had even fallen to the earth, Mickey had leapt up and stretched out his arms and she was there, flinging herself into them, wrapping her arms around him as he gathered her up and buried his face in her neck, nestling into her hair with shallow, shuddering breaths. She smelled like autumn–like every lovely part about it that had ever reminded him of her. Like crisp leaves and apples, all tinged with the lingering scent of fire–warm and full of comfort.

He squeezed her tighter, and she whimpered, nuzzling into him. Mickey was overcome. He dropped again to the ground, brought her in closer, and rocked her back and forth in his arms as she clung to him, and he to her, terrified that if he let his grip on her falter for even a moment, she would vanish again and be lost to him forever. 

“Oh, Mickey…” she gasped through tears at last, her face still buried in his chest. “I waited for you. I never stopped waiting. I missed you so, so much. And I know you couldn’t see me, but I just kept trying to tell you, trying to tell you how sorry I was that I had to leave and I–”

“Shh,” he hushed her then, and nuzzled against her cheek. “Ya came back…” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Ya came back to me…”

Minnie was silent for a moment, just drew in a shaky breath and clung to him, utterly helpless. Mickey drew away for only a moment, catching the look in her eyes. Then a faint gleam of fire sparked in his own, and he leaned down into her, slowly, gently, caressing her collar with his fingers before leaving a kiss where his hand had been. She shuddered, and he traveled up her neck, endlessly soft as his lips pressed against her skin. When they reached her mouth, he hovered there, and opened his eyes to look at her. There was love in that stare, desperate and pleading. It was Minnie who satisfied his unspoken request, leaned in and met his parted lips with her own. 

She flared, glowed, fire again swirling about her. Only this time, it leapt to Mickey too, though he felt nothing but the warmth of her mouth, and her heart beating against him. He hardly noticed how he himself glowed alongside her now, was caught up in the deep, pulsing magic that radiated from them both as they sat locked together, wholly unwilling to let go. 

When they parted, breathless and flushed, they leaned their heads against each other, nuzzled their noses as close as they could. Mickey was trembling even more than Minnie, and for once, she thought she saw tears falling from his eyes.

“How…” he breathed, and swallowed, as if he could hardly bring himself to ask. “How long can y’stay this time?”

Mickey couldn’t look at her, his heart pounding against his ribs as he waited for her answer. Would it be weeks, days…minutes? This gift was already more than he could have ever hoped for, ever asked of her. She’d come back to say goodbye…but…oh, he would cling to her as long as he could.

He felt her flinch and thought that confirmed his worst suspicions. She’d be gone soon, swept up in the wind to fulfill her role. To return to her life of freedom. It was a wonderful thing, he told himself, and yet he braced himself, trying not to think about what it would be like to journey back to the castle without her in his arms.

“Mickey…” she murmured, and seemed to shiver. “How..how long would you want me to stay…if…if you could choose?”

He tried not to laugh, but he did. It was a sad sound, choked and garbled with tears.  The answer was obvious, surely, though he almost felt guilty saying it out loud. If she had but minutes to give, wouldn’t it be cruel to suggest he wanted anything more? Wouldn’t it be selfish?

But she looked up at him with those beautiful brown eyes–as deep and dark as the tallest redwood tree– and he knew he couldn’t lie to her. 

“Awe, Minnie,” he whimpered, and ran his hands through her hair, before burying his face in it once again, knowing he was wetting it with his tears. “I’d stay with ya forever if I could…I wish more than anythin’ you could stay…”

Minnie let out a tiny gasp, and then sniffed. Then she stroked the fur on his neck, as tenderly as she could manage. “Then…I will,” she breathed, a little break making its way into her voice too now. “I’ll stay with you, Mickey. I’ll stay with you, now and…and forever!”

It took Mickey a moment to hear her, having been so sure he was preparing to say goodbye. But when her words finally registered, he froze, and then drew in a deep, gasping breath, and pulled back to look at her. Tears were streaming down her face, but Mickey’s ceased suddenly, a final droplet lingering in the corner of his eye as his whole face filled with disbelief.

“Ya…ya will…I mean, forever?? Min, are you…can you…is that…”

She was nodding, just nodding over and over again, and taking in his growing happiness with every moment. His lips began to curl, a light filled his eyes, and before she knew it, he had pounced on her, rolling her over on top of him and beaming up at her with sheer love and relief. Minnie laughed endlessly, her giggles scattered with tears, but they were happy now. So, so happy, like nothing she’d ever felt in her whole life. 

“Aw, Minnie,” he breathed, still smiling, and lifted his fingers to her cheek, wiping away some of those tears with the back of his hand, then pressing his palm against her skin. He’d been about to say…something. But before he could finish, Minnie leaned in and had stifled his words once again, taking in the taste of his lips with every trembling moment.

When she pulled away, his eyes were clouded with bliss, but he licked his lips and managed to finish anyway, knowing even then that he had only seconds to speak. But it wasn’t for a farewell…it was for love, and that was all that mattered now. 

That’s all he needed to say. 

“Minnie…” She leaned in, lips hovering just a breath above his mouth, ready to meet him again the moment he’d finished.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

The moon shone down on them both and flowers sprouted where they lay, unfolded their blossoms across the whole of the forest. Minnie wondered if Mickey knew that this was his doing, that those simple words sparked such life in her soul. Prompted such gentle, blissful magic.

She laughed softly, and smiled. If he didn’t know, she would show him now. Would imprint her gratitude on every part of his being. And if he still needed convincing, then she’d do it all over again.

They had forever after all.

[writtenfangirl]

Timing pt. 2

This is unedited and fresh off the oven. I uploaded this as soon as I finished writing it so I will end up editing it later on.

A part 2 for timing was highly requested so here you guys go!

4081 words

Part 1

Taglist: @alovingelf

Steve wasn’t sure how it was possible but he fell in love with Y/N more everyday than he had ever loved her.

She wasn’t exactly the same as Steve remembered her to be. She smiled less than the Y/N of the past but laughed louder than the Y/N of the past. Whenever Steve looked at her, he was suddenly reminded of art. She was a beautiful gothic painting. Despite the rich reds and cheerful yellows that seemed to emanate from Y/N, one couldn’t help but imagine a witch burning on a pyre under vast endless sky.

There was a darkness about her, one she didn’t have before but somehow, it made Steve love her even more. It reminded him that the Y/N of his past was not the Y/N of his present. She’d changed too, as fundamentally as Bucky and Steve was changed. 

She wasn’t the same tough girl who could run circles around Bucky in a boxing ring. She wasn’t the same caring Red Cross nurse who could sit for hours at her patient’s bedside like she once use to be able to do. She was just Y/N. Y/N who worked for an NGO providing access to clean water in hard to reach places. Y/N who spent her Saturdays volunteering at the soup kitchen. Y/N who became a big sister for at risk youth. Y/N who now enjoyed cooking and baking as a hobby.

After the team learned about Y/N, they’d spent the past few months looking into it. Bruce and Tony considered things from a scientific standpoint while Steven, Wanda and Thor considered it from a magical standpoint. It meant Y/N spent a lot of time with the Avengers, though she wasn’t aware of the why.

In truth, Steve didn’t care. He didn’t care how or why Y/N was here so long as she was here with him. She could be a curse from the devil himself and Steve would love her like a miracle.

“Sometimes, I think Bucky doesn’t like me,” Y/N said into the quiet air of midnight. They were cocooned in Steve’s bed, her body pressed against his own, their legs tangled up in blankets. Steve’s hand were curled around Y/N’s, her face inches away from his own, her hair spilling behind her like a stream. The only light that illuminated her face was faint and it came from the lights of the city that peeked through his wiondow. She look beautiful, ethereal,  so much so that for a moment, Steve’s mind drew a blank at what Y/N had been saying.

“What?” Steve asked dumbly, his voice a little awestruck. Y/N didn’t seem to notice though, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Her brows crinkled into a frown as she carefully considered her next words. “I don’t know. He just stares at me so intently sometimes. Sometimes I think, he might not like me.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to frown. “You think Bucky doesn’t like you?”

Y/N lifted a shoulder as she bit the inside of her cheek. Steve had a feeling that Y/N had to gather her courage to tell him that. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss on her forehead that her eyes fluttering.

“Bucky doesn’t hate you,” Steve said when he pulled away. Truthfully, Bucky always had a bit of a staring problem since he stopped becoming the Winter Soldier but it became exasperated by Y/N. Steve couldn’t really blame Bucky though. Bucky confessed that he was mesmerized by Y/N’s face and every time the three of them hung out, it was as if no time had passed. The trio was still as chaotic as they were before.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know him. Trust me, he stares at everyone that way.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

Steve chuckled. “Yes. I’m sure. In fact, Bucky doesn’t laugh as much as when he’s with you.”

She grinned then, her eyebrows smoothening. Her whole face seemed to light up when she smiled, reminiscent of the way the Y/N of his past use to smile at him. “Well, if Mr. Rogers says so, I guess I have nothing to worry about.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. She’d gotten into the habit of calling him ‘Mr. Rogers’ after Steve revealed that he didn’t like being called Mr. Rogers because it made him feel old. Though there were many things different about Y/N, one thing stayed the same. She still loved teasing Steve.

But he would endure anything and everything to be with Y/N. Even if it meant he would occasionally have to be called Mr. Rogers by the love of his life.

Eventually, Y/N’s breathing deepened, her eyes closing as her face relaxed into sleep.

His mind flitted to what Y/N said. 

Bucky was just as surprised as Steve was when he saw Y/N. He knew Bucky. He considered Y/N a miracle as much as Steve did.

And though Steve knew that Bucky was happy for him and Y/N, it still didn’t stop his best  friend from wondering.

While Steve didn’t care why or how Y/N came about, Bucky did. He cared a whole lot.

Which is why Steve found himself in the compound bright and early. Bucky had called and said that they had to discuss something important and though Steve wished he could spend the rest of his day with Y/N, she had pushed him out the door so she could get ready for work. 

Steve found his way to the living room where he was met with the sight of a bleary eyed Bruce Banner, a serious looking Steven Strange, a calm looking Wanda Maximoff, a jacked up on caffeine Tony Stark and a confused Bucky Barnes.

“Okay, I’m here. What is this about?” Steve said as he took a seat beside Wanda.

“We finally figured out how Y/N came to exist,” Steven said getting straight to the point.

“How?” Bucky demanded, his previous confusion vanishing like smoke.

“Magic,” Wanda answered. “It’s the only plausible explanation, especially since she has no relation to the original Y/N. Steven and I scoured the tomes in Kamar Taj but couldn’t find any answers so I searched the Darkhold.”

“What did you find?” Bruce asked as he took the seat next to Steve, rubbing his eyes. His hair was sticking up in odd directions, like he’d spent a few hours sleeping on a table instead of a bed. 

“Reincarnation is impossible without magical intervention,” Wanda explained. “The very process of reincarnating something is magical in nature because souls are magical. Sometimes, it happens naturally. It takes hundreds, maybe even thousands of years but some souls find the body of a descendant and they occupy that body. The soul has to be strong though and you usually see them prominently in history. The stronger the soul, the more they retain their old traits. It’s why we sometimes see people who look like Cleopatra or Caligula in the modern world.”

“Okay, so, what? Y/N being alive and real is just a miracle?” Tony asked with a frown.

“Not exactly,” Steven said carefully. “There are different spells to reincarnate someone to a new body, each of them more complicated than the last. The list of people able to cast those kinds of spells is short. Wanda, Wong and I would be able to do it and we’re some of the most powerful magic wielders around.”

“I think Agatha could do it too,” Wanda said with a frown. “Maybe the Ancient One and Baron Mordo.”

“That’s only listing magic wielders of our planet. There’s probably more in the universe,” Steven added.

Steve raised an eyebrow in question. “You think someone reincarnated Y/N through magic?”

“It’s the most likely answer. The time in which she died for her to show up in another body is too short of a time frame. She died (your age) years ago, correct?”

Steve nodded.

“Reincarnation takes years, centuries even. (Your age) years isn’t enough for her to occupy the body of another descendant naturally.” Steven explained.

“There’s that too,” Wanda piped up. “You said present Y/N isn’t related to anyone from past Y/N’s life, right? All of her children are accounted for and so are her grandchildren?”

Steve nodded again. “As far as I know, they don’t share any genetic DNA. She said she was born on the other side of the world and her parents just immigrated here when she was child. There’s no overlap.”

“We’ll have to test her to be sure,” Steven said. “I can ask Christine to run some labs, see what she could come up with.”

“We already tried that one,” Bruce said, looking more alert now than he was a few minutes ago. “SHIELD had old records of past Y/N’s DNA on file and Tony took some samples from her—“

“Hang on,” Steve said, abruptly standing up, his expression suddenly thunderous. “You took samples from her? When?”

“When she came over here a couple weeks ago. I took her glass and tested her saliva for any match with the past Y/N.”

“Tony, that is so not right!” Steve said, angry at the idea that Tony would violate Y/N’s privacy that way. They should have asked for permission! Instead they chose to violate her privacy. Steve was sure that if Y/N was around, she would be pissed and Steve was angry for her.

“What?” Tony said defensively. “I did what I had to do! Your old girlfriend is suddenly back from the dead, you’re not the least bit curious as to how or why? She could be a danger to us all but you’re so blinded by her that you can’t see that!”

Steve could feel his start begin to boil. Sweat pricked at the back of his head, dripping down to his nape. He had never been as angry as he was now. Tony can come after him all he wants but Y/N was off limits. 

“You should have asked for permission,” Bucky said, coming to Steve’s defense, though he was much calmer than Steve.

“And tell her what,” Tony demanded before his tone turned mocking, “‘Hey, Y/N! Do you think you can spit in this test tube for me and give me some of your hair? Oh no reason, just because you bare a striking resemblance to your boyfriend’s dead ex girlfriend!’”

“Enough!” Steven said, stepping in between Tony and Steve before they come into blows. “What’s done is done. What did you find?”

“Genetically, they’re 100% a match.” Bruce said as he pulled Tony away from the simmering fight. 

Steve took a deep breath before retaking his seat. His mind was racing by all of the revelations laid bare before him. He wasn’t sure what to think about the whole situation but one startling clear thought overrode everything else: He wasn’t going to lose Y/N again. 

“We need to tell her,” Wanda said, breaking Steve out of his thoughts. “She deserves to know.”

“We don’t even know what this is,” Steven argued, his face pulling into a frown. “We haven’t found concrete evidence yet. We should investigate more, see what we can find.”

“I agree with Wanda,” Tony said, voice contemplative. “We need to tell her. Maybe she knows what’s going on.”

“I say we shut up about it,” Bucky said. Steve’s eyes snapped to Bucky’s face. His blue eyes were blazing, his body taunt and ready to strike. “Chances are, she doesn’t know anything. She’s living a good and honest life, where she doesn’t have to worry about the next fight. She doesn’t ever have to think about bad guys and genocidal aliens and anthropomorphic robots set out to doom half of humanity. She doesn’t have to wake up everyday wondering if today will be the day she loses her friends. If you tell her this, if you tell her about the old Y/N, she could react badly.”

“You can’t be serious.” Tony deadpanned. 

“I am. If present Y/N is anything like past Y/N, and she is almost exactly like her down to a T, she will want to get to the bottom of this. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s living a normal, human life here. You really want to take that away from her?”

“This could be a threat to national security!”

“Or it could be a fluke! It could be nothing!”

“Alright, enough,” Steve said with a sigh. With his supersoldier body, he couldn’t get sick even if he tried. But right now, his head was pounding and the acrid taste of bile was beginning to rise at the back of his throat. The thought of losing Y/N again, even  if it isn’t the version of Y/N he grew up, had his palms slicking with sweat. He couldn’t lose her again. Not like this. Not before he was ready. And Steve doubted he would ever be ready to lose her.

When he’d crashed his plane to the freezing depths of the ocean, he knew that he wouldn’t lose Y/N. Not really. His heart would always be hers, even if she wasn’t around to claim it anymore. He would always be hers. 

But the thought of losing her now, when they finally have a second chance, had the air in his lungs going stale. His stomach roiled, his head suddenly feeling a rush of searing heat that rush down his spine, spreading throughout his body. 

Steve felt the eyes of the team on him but he couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them.

The only thing that raced through his mind was Y/N. She’d been a part of his past and now, against all odds, she was a part of his present. All he wanted was to keep her in his future. 

“Steve, this is your call,” Bruce said gently. “What do you want to do?”

He looked up, his eyes shining. There was really only one thing he could do and he would damn himself to hell first before he makes the mistake not to do it.

Y/N was home. Steve was sure of it.

The lights were turned on the living room, the smell of cooked garlic wafted all around their shared apartment and the bustling sound of the busy city penetrated into the small space. There were a lot of things that didn’t change from the past and one of them was that Brooklyn was loud.

Y/N had been cooking. Steve knew she loved to do that now. He could spend hours watching her get lost in a recipe, trying foods from all over the world in the tiny space they shared. The Y/N of the past hated cooking even if she loved to eat.

He peered at the dining room table. Dinner had been set, the plates and utensils laid neatly on the wooden surface. Their dinner was still warm judging by the steam that danced in the air. He could smell melted butter sweeping away the cooking garlic. Y/N had been talking about baking apple pie for a while now, and Steve had no doubt in his mind that the sweet smell of cinnamon and the tarty smell of apples that melded together in the small space of his apartment was the result of Y/N baking the day away. 

But he couldn’t hear her. She was usually found engrossed in a book when she wasn’t cooking or even scrolling through her phone. Where was she now?

For a moment, Steve’s heart plunged to his chest. Could something have happened to her?

“Y/N?” Steve called out as he walked to their shared bedroom. Relief flooding his system when he saw Y/N sitting on their bed. She was fine and well, so why wasn’t the feeling of dread in his stomach going away?

She was holding a piece of paper in her hands. Her eyes were glassy, her hands trembling.

She might have been physically okay but something was bothering her, Steve just knew it.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Steve said as he watched her, gauging her reaction.

She continued to stare at the paper intently. Steve glanced behind her and his own stomach dropped. 

Shit.

“I’m trying to recall when we’ve ever taken this picture before,” Y/N said, her voice shaky and brittle. “I’ve been racking my head for the past hour trying to remember where Bucky, you and I have ever taken this picture before but I can’t remember so unless I’m losing my mind, I am 100% sure we have never taken this picture before. But there I am. That is the same face I see everyday in the mirror. Bucky’s left hand isn’t metal here and you were thin. This was before your transformation.” She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears as she threw the faded picture on the bed, yellowed with age, the photograph marred with white lines from the many times Steve folded the photograph.

Steve remembered the day they took the picture. They had passed by a photographer in Central Park and paid 20 cents for the photo. It was the day before Pearl Harbor had been bombed and they didn’t have a single care in the world. War was a distant idea at the back of their heads. Y/N had the widest smile on her face, her arms wrapped around Bucky and Steve’s shoulders as she pulled them close for a hug. Bucky was looking at the camera, oozing charm and charisma as his left arm draped around Y/N’s shoulder, reaching over to Steve and ruffling his hair. Steve had his right arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder, a cheerful smile on his face as he tried to slap away Bucky’s roaming hand.

He’d brought that photograph with him into every battle, had memorized every crevice until he could imagine it in near perfect detail. It was tucked inside his suit when he hit the ice and not even the icy waters of the ocean could cause the picture to fade. It was the only thing he had to remember his friends by when he woke up from the ice. The picture he fell asleep staring at and the same picture he woke up to everyday until he found Y/N again. He’d temporarily kept it hidden in a box beneath their bed when Y/N moved in along with small trinkets from his past. Somehow Y/N found it and now she knew he’d been lying from the start.

“Steve,” Y/N whispered as she stood up, pushing the picture away as if it was covered in acid, “what in the actual fuck.”

“I can explain,” Steve said, fighting to keep away the rising panic in his voice.

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice shaking as she spoke, “explain.”

And so Steve did explain. He explained everything about his past, who Y/N was to him, how much he lost when he crashed into the ice. He told her what Y/N meant to Bucky, who Y/N was. Most of all, he explained, in great detail, every information revealed to him by his friends a while ago. How magic and science are searching for an answer to what Y/N really was and how she came to be.

At the end of it all, Steve watched as Y/N took a seat on the bed, snatching back the photograph. She stayed silent, her eyes glassing over as unshed tears collected at the brim. She fingers the picture in her hands, touching  the weather page, the little white cracks that marred the picture’s surface.

Steve took the seat next to Y/N, the bed dipping below her. “Y/N, say something.” He said the words quietly, an animal trainer afraid of a feral beast.

Steve heard the sharp breath she took before she spoke. “You lied to me.”

Steve felt his heart plummet in his chest. “No, Y/N, it isn’t like that—“

Her head snapped to him, her once mournful eyes blazing. “You lied to me.” The repeated words were like hammer hitting stone, chunks of Steve’s heart plummeting even deeper into his chest cavity. He imagine a sculptor chipping away at pieces of his heart, reassembling it until it became something he couldn’t recognize.

“You liked to me, Steve.” Y/N stood up again, throwing the photograph onto the bed. “You lied to me everyday you didn’t tell me. I thought you loved me because of who I was but no, it turns out, you love me because I look like your ex-girlfriend!”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Steve said, his voice turned pleading. “You are her. You’re the same Y/N I knew and loved. I was going to tell you, I swear. I was going to tell you when I got home but you’d found the picture—“

“I don’t care, Steve!” She was yelling now. Steve could see the fracture in the facade of her anger. She was hurt and in pain and Steve didn’t doubt she felt betrayed by Steve’s actions. 

Steve didn’t usually feel like a villain but he did feel so right now. He did a horrible, selfish thing because he was so terrified of losing her and now, because of his actions, he really will lose her.

His shitty timing was back to bite him in the ass. He should have told her before instead of today and now, he was going to lose her.

“Would you have told me if I hadn’t found this?” She gestured to the picture.

“Yes! I was going to tell you today! I didn’t want to tell you anything without any information. We didn’t know what you were at first—“

“What I am?” She repeated incredulously. “I’m a person, Steve. A person! That is what I am! With thoughts and emotions and feelings! I have memories of past and hopes for my future. I am not whatever your Y/N was! I am Y/N Y/L/N. I am my own person!”

If Steve could kick his own ass, he would. “I know that, I’m sorry. I didn’t use the right words. Y/N, I still don’t really understand how you came about but I do know that I love you.”

She paused then. The anger that radiated from her seemed to calm. Her nostrils were flared, her eyes still blazing. A crack in her angry veneer had her pain shining through. 

Without another word, Y/N grabbed a bag from their shared closet, quickly filling it up with clothes.

“Where are you going?” Steve said as he watched her pack silently, her movements frantic. 

“Away from here. I need time to think.”

Steve simply watched her as she grabbed a few days worth of clothes and her toiletries. She didn’t bother properly folding her stuff, which was so unlike the Y/N Steve knew. She liked things neat and tidy but the way she was moving signaled to Steve that neatness and tidiness were the last things on her mind right now.

“Please don’t go. We can talk about this.”

She paused for a breath before her movements started again, slower this time as she zipped up her bag. She still stayed silent, letting Steve do the talking.

“At least tell me where you’re going. I promise not to bother you until you’r ready, I just want to know you’re safe.”

She chewed her lip, hesitating before she spoke. “I’m gong to Y/BFF/N’s place. I need time to think. There’s pie baking in the oven and you need to take it out so it doesn’t get dry. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

And with that said, Steve watched silently as she took her things before marching toward their bedroom door. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Steve heard her sigh before she said a quiet, “Good bye, Steve.” Then he heard her measured footsteps as they journeyed to the front door of their shared apartment. He heard the squeaky hinges as they swung open followed by the loud slam of the wooden door. 

He was well and truly alone now. 

[bettathanyou]

Babysitter Blues, Pt. 2

Part 2 of the Babysitter Blues fanfic, enjoy!! Thank you all for the love you've shown in part 1 <3

Ik this wasn't as long as the first chapter, but tbh it was really hard to write this part 💀 my ADHD and personal commitments was holding this middle part hostage. I just want this out of my drafts already, man 😭

but this story will wrap up in one more chapter, dunno when I'll get around to it but I aim to have it done by the end of this week <3

"Alright, so what do you want to see, Auntie- flowers, puppetry, or the pretty spell?" Calista questioned, her large brown eyes peering up at you with a cheeky smile.

Your mind went blank as you looked down at the little girl before you. All of Calista's options were cleverly disguised as vague, and being naturally indecisive didn't help in your selection process. Feeling antsy to give a reply, you decide to speak what's exactly on your mind.

"To be honest, you gave such good options I'm not sure which to pick. Is 'all of the above' an answer?" You chuckle at your joke in an attempt to mask your embarrassment.

"Well, I guess we could do all of it... Not at the same time though, of course!"

Calista joins merrily in your laughter, and as you both laugh the embarrassment melts away from your core. As your laughter quiets, Calista readies her wand.

"I'll start off with the pretty spell, then!" Calista exclaims, flourishing her wand in dramatic, swooping arcs high above her head.

"A flair for the dramatic... just like her mother and uncle, it seems." You mused with a smile.

Looking at Calista's wand, your mind shuffled through the possibilities of what this spell entailed. You imagine it probably changes people's appearance, or the appearance of objects to be "pretty".

Even though such a spell could be harmless, you feel yourself worried about why a young girl has access to magic like that. You know too well of society's standards for women and girls, and the thought of someone teaching her to help uphold that standard made your skin tingle with anger.

"Calista, what exactly is this "pretty spell", anyways?" You asked, keeping your tone breezy and aloof to not offend her.

"I mean... I can't imagine you'd need it. You're lovely, just as you are." You added earnestly, clasping her hands into your own.

Calista's eyes widened at your compliment, her smile as bright and big as the sun.

"Aww... Thank you! That's what Mummy says too!" Calista beamed, her eyes shining with love at the mention of her mother.

As Calista smiles up at you, you suddenly remember the way Cordelia smiled as she called her daughter beautiful. Thinking of that tender moment makes a smile bloom on your own face as well.

"Right, of course. That's what mothers do." You nodded in affirmation.

"I learned this spell from watching her, too! Mummy's busy all the time, so sometimes she doesn't have time for makeup." Calista shrugged.

"Ahh, I see. So the spell puts her makeup on?" You quipped, nodding in understanding.

"Oh, no! That's a different spell." Calista waved you off. Seeing your confused stare, she waves you over.

Tentatively, you walk over and kneel down to Calista's height. She cups her hand near her mouth and leans into your ear, as if to whisper a secret. Instinctively, you lean in closer to hear her better.

"Mummy uses this spell for her wrinkles...! And her raven's feet!" Calista spoke quickly and quietly, pursing her lips shut tightly as she drew back from you.

"Raven's feet?" You mirror back, eyes blinking rapidly. As the words left your mouth, you felt what Calista was trying to say begin to click.

"Oh! You exclaimed, but Calista quickly put her finger to her lips and shushed you. Immediately, you drop your voice back down to a whisper.

"Oh... You mean crows feet?" You ask, and Calista nods in confirmation. There's a beat of silence, and your eyes widen at the realization that Calista just told you her mother uses magic to hide her age.

You bite your tongue to hold in your laughter, smirking to yourself. You wish Cedric was here to see this. You feel a laugh bubbling up from your throat, but quickly squash it down with a sharp cough. You look at Calista again, attempting to keep your face neutral.

"Well... That spell definitely has its uses." You murmur, unsure of what to say about that information you didn't want or need to know.

"Mhm! You can even use it too if you wanna!" Calista grinned, giving you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widen at the child's remark, scoffing in equal parts shock and amusement. After a full second of just staring awestruck, you burst out laughing.

"Thank you, Calista. I'll keep it in mind... But for now, I plan on keeping my wrinkles." You purse your lips into a sarcastic smirk, trying to keep your chuckling to a minimum.

"If you say so, Auntie." Calista shrugged lazily, twirling her wand in her hand.

"Why did you learn a spell like that anyways? You're far from having to worry about things like that, Calista." You chided her, tongue clicking in disapproval.

"Allow me to demonstrate!" Calista's back straightens, her wand set slow in bright crimson light. Calista's wand dances in wide arcs as the spell leaves her lips.

"Ageitatus, reciproco, puerulus!" Calista sang, the words echoing off the stone walls of Cedric's tower.

With a flash, Calista's body shrank down twice it's normal size. Her wand landed with a loud clack as it hit the stone floor, rolling eerily next to your feet. The child's shoulder length locs now was a cropped mess of wispy black hair, her signature white streaks gone. Instead of red sorcerer robes, a red satin dress with fanning white ruffles laid snug against her tiny body. A dark red bow at her throat matched the smaller red bow clipped to her hair, pinning it in place away from her big doe eyes. Short stubby fingers reached out to you, her infant coos needy and fussy.

Your breath caught in your throat, looking down at the child- no.

Infant.

In front of you. Your jaw hung slack, and you felt as if time itself had stopped. Your ears begin to ring, and you swallow hard against your now dry throat. You watch, frozen, as baby Calista begins moving towards you.

"Calista, th-this isn't funny. Y-you need to turn yourself back, right now!"

You choke out, tongue tied with horror.

Oblivious to your commands, the child continues to inch towards you on her chubby hands and knees. You follow Calista's gaze, and find out her goal wasn't you- instead, it was her wand that fell adjacent to your feet.

Your heart soared.

Maybe she's trying to reverse the spell after all? She could just look like a baby, but still be Calista on the inside... Right? You thought hastily, kneeling to pick up the wand at your feet.

Calista babbled at the sight of her wand, and with shaking hands you give it to her.

A squeal of happiness escapes her tiny lips, Calista's tiny fingers squeezing around the red object. She babbles while she shakes the wand around, her eyes twinkling like stars. Despite your panicked state, you feel your heart melt just a smidge.

"Okay, you have your wand; now, reverse the spell...!" You exclaimed, eyes searching for any signs of her understanding you.

The babe gave you an empty stare, her round and innocent eyes boring holes into you. You stare back, your eyes pleading for her to do something. As if on cue, Calista began to wander the room, absentmindedly waving her wand around. After a minute of desperate attempts at begging, you finally accept the fact that Calista was an infant through and through.

With the grim reality settling in, you feel a switch go off inside your brain. You tear your gaze away from Calista, turning instead to Cedric's work table.

You grasp at the worn leather surface of his spellbook, flipping through the pages. Thankfully, unlike his workshop, the spell book was neatly categorized in alphabetical order. You start shifting through the C's hoping to find a counter spell for Calista's plight.

As your eyes descend the pages, a loud BANG! makes you jump out of your skin from fright. Your head whips around to the source of the noise, finding the culprit giggling wickedly.

Calista holds out her pudgy arm, various bottles levitating in the air. With a clumsy wave of her wand, another bottle from the shelf flies towards the wall.

Reacting quickly, you manifest your wand and halt the object in its tracks. You sigh heavily, frustration bubbling up from your core. Gathering the levitating objects, you mutter a spell under your breath that sends them shooting back to their respective places.

"Looks like someone just lost their wand privileges for today." You muttered angrily.

With a huff you reach down to pluck the wand from Calista's grasp. Her brows furrowed as you wiggled the wand from her clamped fist, whimpers of protest leaving her.

"I know, I'm sorry honey; it's for your own good..." And for my own sanity, you thought to yourself. Successfully getting the wand from the child, you tuck it away in your dress pocket.

However, Calista's face was quickly turning as red as her dress. Her mouth was screwed up in a tight scowl, big brown saucers filled to the brim with tears. A howl ripped across the room, activating your nervous system.

"No, no no no! Please don't cry..!" You plead, kneeling down before her. You had very very little experience with happy babies, let alone the upset kind.

Her wails grew increasingly louder, but you still held firm in your decision to confiscate the wand. Sitting cross legged, you pull the crying babe onto your knee.

You hold her squirming body close to you, your mind reeling about how to comfort the poor girl. You tried digging around your brain to remember things Calista likes, but her cries drowned out all trace thoughts. It didn't help that Cedric's tower tends to be somewhat of an echo chamber. You felt suffocated by the constant stimuli, and Calista's rising screams made your temples throb.

At this point you wanted to cry with her.

You feel tears threaten to fall, but you quickly wipe your eyes and draw in a shaky breath. You keep taking deep breaths, actively ignoring the stress building up from the upset child. After a couple more deep breaths, you pull out your wand from your side.

You conjure up a rocking chair, lifting yourself off the ground with Calista on your hip. Her violent sobs make her entire frame shake, but you maintain an ironclad grip. You carefully drape the curtains over Cedric's window, only allowing a sliver of light to peek through. You murmur a spell that sets a nearby candle aflame and with a sigh, you gently settle yourself into the wooden rocking chair.

You put the upset child to your chest, cradling her into the crook of your neck. You feel tears and snot cooling rapidly on your skin, but you try not to think too hard about it. You begin to hum a lullaby as you gently push off the rocking chair using your feet. With steady momentum going, you hum a little bit louder to soothe yourself along with Calista.

You aren't sure of how much time passes, but eventually Calista's crying slowed into sniffles and finally into deep breaths of slumber. Your arm has lost all feeling from cradling Calista, but you weren't sure if moving her would be the best idea. After all the effort to calm her, you weren't ready for another meltdown. However, you still needed to find a way to fix this mess, and sitting on your ass wasn't the solution to this particular problem.

You fumble with your free hand as you slowly pull your wand from your dress pocket. With bated breath, you cautiously lift Calista using your magic. With the gentlest movements possible, you lay the girl onto Cedric's bed.

You begin to tuck Calista in, but you gasp as you almost forgot that blankets for children this young could kill them.

Merlin's mushrooms, why are babies so fragile?? You yell inwardly, gathering Cedric's blankets in your arms. His scent wafts up from movement of the fabric, and you take in as much air as your lungs would allow.

The smell of old books, his soap, and the earthy smell of dried herbs makes your heart flutter. Your moment is ruined, however, when you think of how Cedric would react to seeing his niece in such a state on your watch. Your mouth becomes dry, and you hastily tuck Cedric's bedding into his clothes closet. Shutting the door, you push the thought into the back of your mind.

"I can fix this..." You whisper to yourself anxiously. There were simply no other options; you had to fix this- hopefully, with no one knowing the wiser.

Grabbing the candle you lit earlier, you perch at Cedric's worktable to resume your counter spell searching. Your heart claws with anxiety with every page you flip. Your finger traces the words you silently read aloud, but nothing seems to match what you need. Disappointed but not dissuaded, you continue.

Digging through spells that could relate to aging or changing one's body, a knock coming from the other side of Cedric's door pulls the air from of your lungs.

You stare at the door in silence, your skin tingling with terror. You hear your heart thundering in your chest, and your palms quickly grow slick with sweat. Your breathing feels unbearably loud, coming in short erratic bursts.

A knock on the door appears again, firmer this time. A voice calls out, cutting the silence like a sharp blade.

"Mr. Cedric? Are you there?"

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 11.1

“More than you’d think.  But it’s like… secrets in a small town type stuff.  Blood in the streets, a struggling defense against invaders.  Killings, gunmen, cannibalism, underage drinking…” “What shows are you watching?” “…But the cannibal types are on the side of the good guys, I think.  When they aren’t too hungry.” “Is this from a game?” “There’s not much game about it.  It’s deathly serious.  But it’s the kind of serious where you have to joke about it and play it off as non-serious to your mom, while she’s all confused, you know?” “I’m definitely confused.  I do like your imagination though.  I wish I could keep up with it.”

Verona really does just tell her parents what's going on, secure in the knowledge that they won't follow up about it. I mean sure, I don't blame Verona's mom for not realizing everything Verona said has happened, but I think saying "There's something dangerous and serious in a way where I have to joke like it's a game to you." should raise some questions

Verona said, deciding it was best not to push things too far, fun as it was. As important as it was to leave a trail of breadcrumbs in case something bad happened.

oh. Well that's grim, but probably a good idea. Though if the girls die suddenly and violently, I think having had a trail of clues indicating that this was an ongoing problem parents didn't notice might make it worse.

“Mom.  Did you pay him?  Or threaten him?  It matters if I’m eventually going back there.  I want to know what’s going on.”

incredibly depressing to be able to put an exact financial value on how much your presence is worth to your father

“No.  No, not bad.  I hope not, anyway.  It seemed easy and streamlined, me leaving you with your dad while I got set up, and then with how bitter you were, and distance?  It felt easier to not force things.”

Verona also often takes an easy route in daily life, but not about things that matter to her. Which means either she's unlike her mother in that, or it implies some bad things about how important Verona is to her mother.

“High school daughters,” Lucy countered.

congratulations!

“Feels shitty.  It’s like, I’ve got this impulse to, I dunno, do stuff.  Like, picking up a broom and sweeping and doing laundry and helping out and-”

I get this when I visit people, and that's under normal circumstance

She drew the symbols necessary and then arranged the papers around the room.  She pressed two against the big window at one side of Lucy’s room. It would obscure any vision of spying eyes and confuse any listening ears. “We good?” Lucy asked. She gave Lucy a nod.

huh, was the disagreement a smokescreen? IIRC they've don that before

She set the pieces of her mask aside, sorted out books, put pens and markers into her left pants pocket, ground up glamour from the flower Guilherme had given her in her right pants pocket with three folded up bits of paper with feathers sticking up out of them, ready to quickly deploy transformations.  Back right pants pocket held a stack of spell cards.

petition to get Verona some cargo pants

Avery wore running shorts and an athletic tee with a pocket, which seemed like an oxymoron when it came to the shirt’s purpose.

does anyone ever use breast pockets on shirts?

Shadows deepened, then the light shone through, as if a cloud had passed over the moon and then let it shine brighter immediately after.  What looked like dense trees and a patch of nature at the corner of this area was opened up like an optical illusion had revealed itself, showing the narrow one-lane street that extended into the trees, and the tall, not-especially-taken-care-of house tucked into the trees.  The skeleton of a for-sale sign was set into the lawn, the top portion with the realtor’s face worn by weather, the lower half that hung from the horizontal part of the post had fallen off and was mostly covered in weeds and tall grass. “City magic is so badass,” Avery said.

Agreed

Possible Demesne for Verona?

“They’re definitely more active, and more sloppy,” Lucy said.  “Edith especially.  But it doesn’t feel scared.”

and getting the cube back wasn't brought up in Edith and Maricica's conversation

Lucy shook her head.  “Which takes us back full circle to the big fat question of why they aren’t freaking out.  And I have this sick little feeling in my stomach that makes no sense, but… what if we have it wrong?”

goddammit. My theories!

“But none of them know for absolute sure who did it, I don’t think,” Lucy replied.  “And this sick feeling in my gut is… what if it’s our soldier friend?  What if we have it wrong and he would get both coup and claim?” “Hasn’t he said he doesn’t want it?” Verona asked.  “But he’ll take it anyway?” “Could be he doesn’t want it but he needs it?” Lucy asked.  “What if our soldier friend isn’t a friend but a major culprit, we screwed up when interviewing him or jumped to conclusions, and the furs are… I dunno.  Secondary?”

huh. I don't think so. I hope not! I don't John was involved with making the Choir out of Yalda, he seemed surprised to find out about that. I suppose he could have been recruited later? But that seems shaky. Maybe becoming the Carmine Judge would let him help Yalda, but I don't see how.

“E was making clothes, right?” Avery asked.

I missed that, can you check the measurements?

“This isn’t going to be one of those situations where we get to gather the information and do a big badass whodunnit moment, huh?” Verona asked.

:(

“When I went to check in with the Judges, I asked if they could give us any kind of protection,” Avery said.  “They kind of said no.  Uhh, as I remember it, the protection we get for taking care of Kennet is what we get, karmically speaking.  We make our own karma.” “I’m finding myself struggling to realize what the point of them is,” Lucy said.

lol. But also yes. Maybe their role is more as arbiters than as criminal judges? Settling property disputes, overseeing contracts, offering a neutral enforcing party for negotiations

“I think they handle the stuff that’s really broken,” Verona said.  “There wasn’t anything super relevant in the books, but there were figures that seemed judge-like who would set quests and point the right people in the right ways to handle anything that was really bad.  In other places you get Lords and committees deciding what needs handling.  The Others who are threatening the seal of Solomon, monsters too big for any one person to defeat, breaches between worlds, stuff.”

or that! Scary to think this doesn't rise to their attention

“That’s the exact kind of moment you should be super cool and confident.  Unflappable, badass Avery,” Verona told her, grinning.

I would like to think that being very flappable and earnest can also work.

“Three times we were wronged,” Verona mused aloud, “That deserves righting.  We can ask for the judges to hand us the ability to right the wrong.  If they can control how karma happens, then let that karma be protection during and immediately after the arrest.  Access to any power that might be held back from us as we try to put it into effect. We need answers from her so we’re not asking for her to be forsworn.”

So like I was saying, arbiters of fairness not of criminal cases

“She was hurting, she was alone, she tried to reach out, and I was busy feeling sorry for myself.  Hurt, Booker gone, having to leave out information for my mom, mostly staying in my room, trying to think of a good way through this whole situation, you know?”

Oof yeah, and Avery gets hurt more by feeling left out, while Lucy reacts strongly to feeling like she has to manage things for other people

“Yeah,” Lucy said, one side of her mouth pulling back hard, disappointed, upset.  “I was scared.” That disappointment and upset gave way to something else, fleeting, deeper, vulnerable.  Lucy looked away a moment later.

and she almost died! And didn't have anyone on hand to talk about it with, and I'm guessing she didn't want to admit to Avery how scared she was

“Really, really close.  And then I was scared too, of what if being in close contact with a ghoul infected me.  Close calls with death, right?”

gods that sounds terrifying.

“I wanted to ask someone for clarification on that but didn’t know who to trust, and didn’t really trust anyone, for a little bit there, and I didn’t even want to go outside.”

And to extend Lucy's fox symbolism, this reminds me of the thing that some wild animals do when injured/sick, of holing up alone and just waiting to see if they die. (Note: I do not know if this applies specifically to foxes). This is mostly not a useful behavior for humans, but man if the urge to just cut down on contact and be terrified and emotional in private isn't relatable (thinking back to Lucy not wanting her mother to see her cry)

“Talk to me?  Send me a frigging mail?  You say you didn’t know who to reach out and talk to?  Me!  Me me me me or Avery or your mom or me!  I can frigging take it, Luce!”

yeah!

“We are cosmically frigging bound together, you jerk!"

I like this line. More frustrated expressions of endless affection please

Worst of both worlds when I can tell something’s wrong and you won’t let me help!

yeah :(

“Avery needs something like this too,” Lucy said.  “The big intense hug.  It’s harder to figure out.”

I'm not sure if the pre-hug scuffling would work on Avery or not

“Okay.  Why don’t we call Avery’s parents and see about her coming over?  Be ready for them to say it’s too late.”

sleepover!

Verona pointed toward the window.  Avery turned, looking, and Verona lunged, rising up out of the bed, and hauled her down, backwards, onto the bed.  Avery lay there, barely on the edge of the bed, Verona holding her from behind, feet still on the ground.  After about ten seconds she tried to get her feet up onto the bed, failed twice, and succeeded on the third try.  They shuffled over so Avery wasn’t constantly on the verge of falling off the bed.

:)

[destinylordoffreaks]

Random barbie questions / thoughts part 2

1: why does prince Nalu from fairytopia look like a Peter Pan reject

2: Why do we not see any other puff balls until magic of the rainbow and the only other one we see is a puffball that very obviously had some sort of you nosy producer, or Director going no no it Hass to look obvious that it’s a girl we can’t possibly have Bibble be in love with something that doesn’t looks like it isn’t obviously a girl

3:Why are all of the other fairy guardians understudys absolutely annoying. Selfish unlikable pricks like the enchantress wouldn’t have just taken one look at these students and been on like no go pick someone else 

4: Also, do you notice that some of the guardians changed colors between the first Fairytopia and the third one like I am all for diversity but it is a little weird However do I give them props for just not mentioning it at all they’re just like oh yeah, they have different skin tones now deal with it

5: In Barbie Rapunzel mother Gothal is the only mother we see in the entire movie we don’t see Rapunzels real mother, or her princes’s, just there Dad’s 

6: Also, who else is it annoyed that we never got like dress up expansion packs for the rapunzel Barbies that had all of the other dresses she drew

1: And why do we not have 2000s Barbie nostalgia merch yet? Where is my T-shirt with Barbie Fairytopia on it dang it

 2: who else had Barbie dolls with stuck on clothing on them and has result grew up  to hate Barbie Dolls was stuck on clothes on them but also we’d still track down and buy the those same dolls we had has a kid 

3: also, does anybody else have a teenage sister who just loves Barbie princess charm school because Porsche is hysterical to them mine is convinced that she’s high

4: And Barbie life in the dream house is a literally just one giant Barbie meme and as a result, even though it’s really stupid, I just can’t hate it 

5: nd we should be getting like a nostalgia releases of the Barbies from the early Barbie movies like where is Claire has the sugarplum princess Rapunzel Odette from Swan Lake Elena from fairytopia, Annalise and Erica from princess and the pauper could you imagine fully articulated versions of these Barbies? It would be so cool.

6: And does anybody else appreciate that for years Barbie has released multiple different versions of their main character dolls from the Barbie movies in different ethnicities. And if you ever pointed it out like they’re trying to earn brownie points, or something they just been like oh yeah, there are multiple versions of this doll so that all of the girls can feel included. I love that. 

What are your thoughts? 

Also, all of this was written  speech to text, so is there any spelling or grammar mistakes I’m sorry.

[bluestringpudding]

I, Basilisk

A trip once more into the absurd! This time, from the point of view of the Basilisk. (Mostly written at very strange times of night, when sleep deprivation was very much my friend.)

As a rule, I prefer to wake up for a week or so every fifty years, head out for a while, check on the castle’s plumbing, make sure the spiders haven’t made themselves too comfortable, that sort of thing. It’s a simple life but, when you’ve been cursed with death at first sight, it can be a struggle to find company. Not to mention that there's not nearly as much to do since Salazar isn’t around anymore.

This century was looking no different, though I must say it sounded like the students were getting more and more boisterous as the decades passed by. I’m quite sure Rowena wouldn’t have indulged in shrieking down the corridor between classes. Helga, maybe, but she was always the softest of the four.

Merlin, I miss them - even Godric, the sword-wielding pillock.

I’ll admit, I thought that Salazar's descendants had all died out. No one with the ability to understand me had been to the castle in hundreds of years. So imagine my unpleasant surprise when I was woken up by some snot-nosed little brat with a superiority complex.

Not many people realise that Parseltongue is not just to talk to snakes, but to command them.

Salazar knew, and he treated his gift with the respect it deserved. Tom Riddle had no such compunction. Not only that, but he seemed to think that my purpose was to harm the students. He kept ordering me to go out into the castle. I did my best to make sure none of the children came face to face with me, but to my shame I didn’t do enough.

It isn’t easy for a basilisk to go against a Parseltongue, but after that day in the bathroom I was willing to try. I lay in wait in the chamber, mentally preparing myself for the next time he tried to call on me with his forked tongue.

Except it didn’t come, and eventually the thrum of the castle’s magic lulled me back into slumber.

For a while.

I knew it was him when it started again; I could feel it in my fangs. I ventured out the nights he called me. I was going to find him – kill him – this time. He was going to come to me and I was going to tear him limb from limb, rip him up into tiny pieces so he couldn’t harm anyone again.

But he wasn't there. In his place he had sent a girl, a child barely twelve years old. She was no Parseltongue. If her flaming locks were anything to go by, I’d venture she drew a line straight back to Gryffindor himself.

Imagine my frustration when I knew it was still him in control, but I couldn’t get to him. I told myself to be patient. A narcissist such as him would only stay in the shadows for so long. What were a few more weeks or months to a creature as old as I was?

I could hear their chattering on the other side of the wall, that final night. I could hear his voice, speaking in human tongue. It made my blood boil – which, for something cold blooded, is quite the feat.

I’m afraid that in my haste to get to him, I did not make a dignified entrance, falling to the floor with a thud, winding myself in the process. I saw the girl lying on the floor, and another boy running away from me with his eyes closed. And to the left, the old sorting hat, a thing I had not seen in a thousand years, shortly after the founders has brought it to life. But I did not have time to dwell on the past; my target stood between us, not quite human, but there enough that I was sure I would enjoy feeling his bones snap.

I started towards him, but then a bird with feathers of flame swept towards me. I tried to dodge, tried to reach the one audacious enough to think that he could use me- me! - as a puppet. But the bird was too fast; its sharp beak pecked at my eyes so that I was now blind with rage and agony. He screamed another order; told me to leave the bird, kill the boy.

I was in too much pain to fight it, but I did what I could. I knew that dusty old hat had more to it than met the eye. I also knew what it meant when I heard the distinctive sound of silver against stone. Of course the boy was the sword wielding type.

It was too late for me anyway. My eyes were gone, and soon I would be too, with or without help.

At least, I hoped, as I fell on an old friend’s blade, the self-proclaimed heir of Slytherin would not win.

Godric always did get the last word. 

[amplexadversary]

I'll state from the beginning that I'm going way off-prompt here, but this feels like it would be good for an AU Laudna of Critical Role 3 fame. That idea kind of doesn't fit the "not a dark story" part though because the demon in this analogy would be Delilah Briarwood.

OP's prompt could be Laudna's backstory to a whole Mahou Shoujo AU for CR3 though. She wants to be a magical girl and all that entails, and Ghost!Delilah Briarwood sees her as an opportunity to crawl back to the world of the living.

Imogen and Fearne would be magical girls whose intended mascot/mentor actually is evil; something like a twisted version of Sailor Moon where Liliana-as-Queen-Serenity actually allies with Ludinus-as-Queen-Beryl (and the CR characters you would expect mapping on to Queen Beryl's other lieutenants.

Imogen's mom sends her nightmares telling her to run away from the cutesy mascot they've sent her; the mascot eventually drops her transformation trinket on her bed.

Fearne still lives with her grandmother, and while she also gets a transformation trinket, she kind of dismisses it, because her abilities as a sage that she picked up from her Nana are more useful to her by the time she gets it. (Almost analogous to if Rei/Sailor Mars ditched the trinket and instead drew power from her spiritualism and shrine maiden training)

Orym has a Badass Normal/Tuxedo Kamen thing going, but for every magical fighter in the city; his husband and father got got by one of Otohan's monsters of the week.

Dorian picks up a knockoff mahou-idol situation that more often than not favors girls but isn't exclusive*.

Ashton doesn't have a mascot; they just have a stray transformation crystal embedded in them (the glass in their head isn't a dome in this one - it's the Silver Crystal from Sailor Moon, but Chaos powered.) He's also more than a little angry that the whole "transforming magic warrior" thing make people assume they're a girl*.

FCG and Chetney are both victims of the "ordinary person gets turned into the monster of the week" trope that several Mahou works have (including one arc of Sailor Moon).

FCG is still a robot in this one, and in this version of events Ashton actually defeats them before adopting them. Whatever the villains are doing to turn people into monsters has a weird interaction with FCG being a robot and can't be completely removed, which gives another reason for Ashton to look after them.

Chet got turned the same way, but his transformation ran out of magic before anyone got around to defeating him. He's able to control it a little after that, both when he wolfs out and what he does during. His choice to keep the curse as well as his introduction to the rest of the party remain very similar to canon.

Eshteross and Bertrand's presence go against the standard for magical girl works by giving the magical warriors, for a brief period of time, someone outside the whole magic system to support and inform them. I'm imagining a situation similar to the magic shop in later seasons of Buffy, where Eshteross is a business owner that lets the newly-acquainted mahou team operate out of his store, while Bertrand Bell becomes an employee who is kind of

*I think it would be interesting for the different magic systems in an AU like this to have different relationships re. sex and gender to the concept of the Magical Girl. I think Ashton's trinket being kind of regressive in the gender department would give them one more very worthy thing to be angry at.

Magical girl who had wanted to be one so badly but never had that magical mascot/mentor encounter so she summoned a demon to contract with instead.

It's not a dark story or anything, the magical girl is just as cute and cheery and friendly as factory standard and never loses that faith and optimism, she's just Pact-bound to a frightening demon from the underworld instead of a cute teddy bear mouse.

[cozymochi]

oh nooo... mochi I have just now realized you've combined my childhood and current hyperfixations and

I don't think I can recover 😬😬 ANYWAY I have too many questions about Tia and her life before and after isekai-ing so here's a few

-granma and lottie characters names?

-gramma based off mama Odie?

-how did Tia react to her first culinary crucible?

-her opinion on Crowley?

-and I don't typically like reading character reactions to yuusonas/MCs/OCs, but I genuinely want to know how Tia interacts with the characters? I love her so much ahhh🤩

adios y gracias mochi!

AAAA yay! Well im gonna see if I can address each of these.

-granma and lottie characters names?

Granma’s name is “Eva Dumarais”, from her father’s side. Tia’s middle name is named after her! Granma prefers to be addressed by her name “Eva” or literally anything else. I was intending on including that in practice, but I didn’t want to confuse anybody.

I actually drew up Tia’s friends for my own self reference over HERE!! (The info is still mostly accurate since posting.) But, the blonde girl (that is, yes, very much an intended allusion to Lottie) is named Lisette. A.K.A “Lizzie.” She was Tia’s longest friend. This is them in an old drawing I don’t remember making.

-*gramma based off mama Odie?

Not necessarily, however I can see how that allusion can be made. It’s an easy train of thought to have! So, I’m not opposed to it and if anyone thinks that, that’s totally fine. Then I took her eye out for no reason other than it looked cool.

Pretty much every person from Tia’s home-world doesn’t really show up anyway since they’re just people from Tia’s previous life. Not that they don’t have influence on her, but in the grander scheme they aren’t too significant. So I suppose it doesn’t matter either way! I had a drawing of her not in her sleepy time getup but I may have deleted it on accident. WHOOPS!!

-how did Tia react to her first culinary crucible?

SHE ATE IT UP!!!! Probably the most in her element course she’s taken— but Tia always wants to learn new things so I’m sure she went all in. However, she and Grim are counted as a single student. Take that as you will. Total aside, I feel like I’m the only person who takes that into consideration at all 😭.

-her opinion on Crowley?

She screamed and threw a plush monkey at him when first saw his face. As if the talking cat-like monster wasn’t enough. (Context? Who needs it)

Okay AFTER all the initial shock in being transported, magic, coffins, getting shoved into Ramshackle, being the only girl on the entire campus, and god knows what else (which is a story in itself)—-, Tia finds Crowley to be unreliable and capricious.

Tia is a lot more pressing about trying corner the guy about how to get home and question him, but Crowley will usually weasel out of it or pretend not to hear altogether. (It’s sillier in practice)

Besides, he makes her fix issues at the school and deal with it its students, then regularly blackmails, and guilt trips if she has any refusal, so it’s not exactly positive.

On the other hand, Crowley finds Tia really inflexible (and depending on the day, that can be bothersome), but!! On the bright side that can translate into someone just PERFECT for getting these students in line!

Though, because he intentionally gets under her skin for various reasons, that just makes her wanna prove herself more. So in a weird way, she wants to be recognized as capable to him but also is somewhat aware that she’s probably being strung along.

THERE’S A LOT, I FIND TIA AND CROWLEY VERY FUNNY, I just never actively discussed it or showed it much.

-how Tia interacts with the characters?

Given that there’s 20+ characters there’s no way I can feasibly answer this individually in the detail I would like to without making the longest post ever. Cuz, I do have answers!! Pretty much every base universal status quo is still the same, but. Y’know.

But if someone can imagine a generalized Tiana “base” character starting point, and put her near any of these guys— someone could probably make a feasible guess and be mostly on the money, give or take a few details (cuz there are a few things different overall…). There are characters I didn’t think Tia would gel with, but as she came into her own it sorta fell out of my hands, in a way. Lol.

——

As for not being into how other people’s MCs and the sub-categories and how they respond to characters, I just wanna say… I’m the exact same way. It’s exceedingly rare for me to do the same. So don’t worry, I feel you. It’s pretty much why I don’t bring up Tia unless I’m posting a drawing with Grim on it OR if somebody asks first jfjdjdhrub so thank u!!! That just means something resonated enough!!

**EDIT as of Nov. 2024: Revising Tia’s Grandma to being her Aunt.

[zombinafonfrankenstein]

Could you tell something about your OCs? :)

I am not sure which ones you mean so I will write about the ones I think about the most these days.

Well, I don't know much about them...

Arseny/Uncle Senia is an old man, he used to be an artist, drew decorations for the theater, but he was fired recently. He almost never speaks, poorly understands when others talk to him and has a tendency to overthink other people's feelings. It makes him very bad at communicating, he was dependent on someone close the most part of his life, but often prefers to keep distance because of the fear to hurt someone. At the same time, he is terribly naive, his guilt is easily manipulated. In the 80s, he worked with a very unusual underground creative association known as the Loop affected by punk (I really don't know what they did and Arseny avoids of talking about them, he himself isn't sure what they did, he was just their little silly guy). His nickname was Торчком, which meant a stray strand of hair on top of his head, but also sounds like something about drug addiction. He never had any bad habits, don't worry: he is too sweet and innocent to such stuff.

Zhenia is his great-niece, just 14 years old. She is the closest person to him. She once studied at a cadet school, but dropped out: she hated all the patriotic propaganda. Now her health is really bad, she spends most of her time in hospitals and may be sent to hospice very soon. She has long blonde hair, wears same sweater all the time, listens to Siberian punk and hates bathing because it's too tiring for someone in her condition. Her face is covered with painful acne. Currently she is in the hospital near Arseny's house. Arseny often visits her, once he gave her a handmade dollhouse. Zhenya tells him a lot about her interests, and he sits and listens. It's the only thing that calms her down and the only kind of communication he is capable of. Poor Zhenia believes this world needs big changes and hates herself because she can't change anything. She considers herself useless, what she doesn't understand is that people don't live just to be used.

Arseny knows how to put himself into lucid dreams. Every night he visits the city of Astrin, full of asters, with a clear starry sky and a wonderful theater. In his dreams he imagines Zhenia healthy, living with him. His happiness is just to have a friend. For unknown reasons, the fog from the sea is slowly destroying the city and Arseny, even though it is his own dream, cannot stop the destruction.

Due to Arseny's tendency for isolation, he did not know Zhenya until he recently gave her a ride to the hospital. He knew that he had a great-niece at the cadet school, but he imagined her to be totally different - some drama queen who dreams about the poets of the XIX century.

Such girl visits his dreams too. He is afraid of such dreams because sometimes it seems like she's flirting of him and he is afraid of being the guy who dreams about 14 years old girl flirting with him. Actually she is just my self-insert girl, Liza, who is very bad in understanding other people's boundaries and reads too much of love poems.

Liza lives in the same neighbourhood. She attends a theater studio and a fencing section. She loves goth and vintage stuff. Before meeting Zhenya, she thought that she would never meet a blonde girl, blondes were associated with her only with fairy-tale princesses. One day the boys were teasing Liza, and Zhenya, who was walking by, said something like "Fuck you all." In fact, Zhenya was just muttering something about her own problems, but Lisa thought that the beautiful princess was standing up for her, and since then she has been fighting for the attention of the girl who simply does not have the strength to communicate. Liza has a magic power to visit another people's dreams. She is too shy to visit Zhenya's dreams, so she was happy to find Arseny. Both in reality and in the dreams Zhenia just despises Liza because Liza romanticises XIX century, listens to dumb songs and just is such an unbearable drama queen. Same time, they have some sweet interactions.

Lisa is also in a close relationship with a certain Count Zamsheltsev (because this is the ideal name that I call most of my male characters by default). Count Zamsheltsev is a sad ghost, a memory of a man, a dream. He lived nearby a long time ago and is buried in the local cemetery. Now he appears to Liza in her dreams and asks her to protect his unsuccessful manuscript from publication. He wears a mask. One day Lisa took off his mask and shuddered with horror: under the mask there was not death, but life — countless larvae, beetles, worms, everything that lives among the corpses.

Ulyana is a mature, plump woman dressed in black, like a nun. She sweeps the streets in Astrin. She is some kind of supernatural entity who wants Arseny to get out of the loop of self-loathing. She tries to talk to Arseny, but he can only hear what he is ready for, so he perceives all her words as a mystery. Arseny is sure that he did not imagine her and she shouldn't be in his dream. Count Zamsheltsev recognizes her, but avoids her. She may help Lisa one day get over the separation from Zhenya. Zhenia isn't actually in this dream, so she doesn't meet Ulyana, at least in this form and in this place.

[drewoclock]

Isn't It Dreamy?

Originally published April 5th, 2013

I woke up not too long ago after nine hours of sleep.  Part of me says “Drew, you only need seven hours of sleep a night.  You wasted two hours of your life.”  But I didn’t waste them for two reasons.  One, the sleep was fantastic.  Two, I had a dream.

Something you may not know about me: I love dreams.  They’re unpredictable, fast-paced adventures that you get to be in that you wrote!  They’re fascinating and fun, even the worst of them.  I don’t dream every night but I try getting the best sleep possible to cultivate the dreaming.

It’s kind of strange and sad, though, isn’t it?  How I long for an experience I can only get when I’m asleep?  In the real world, you can’t skip through time, you’re limited to what exists, things are permanent, etc.  Part of my dream last night involved a young, beautiful, evil vampire queen who wanted to make me her king but, after seeing I had a good heart, grew too moved to turn me into her kind and a tense relationship between us blossomed.  I feel like the closest I’ll get to that today is seeing an attractive girl on the Internet, or maybe watching Adventure Time.

So sometimes I find myself very sad to awake from a dream.  Not only is it over, but I don’t know how long it will be until I dream again.  And until then, I’m stuck waiting for magic that can only come when I escape the real world.

I think that’s my all time favorite deep topic; wanting more than reality can offer.  If I could make one movie, that’s what it would be about.  I inadvertently painted a pretty sad picture here but it isn’t hopeless for us dreamers.  There are other fulfilling things I can do besides experience a dream.  There’s also the imagination of others and myself that can emulate a dream. The real world is not so bad at all, but the dream world is something else.  And on the day I never wake up, I hope I dream forever.

[notebookmusical]

Hi! I hope everything is okay and you have started to feel better! That really sucks you had to cancel all your weekend plans though. Hopefully you feel better soon!!!

But ya I really like the ice cream back cover and I like some of the pics from the cd that I've seen. Some of those could maybe be better cover choices though. My sister pointed out that why was she wearing the same shirt from the sunrise cover on the back of the pink cover too..like the outfits don't match and I'm sorry..but it bothers me now! Other than that, yes I'm excited! I will admit that 1989 is not one of my fav albums. Sometimes the songs just blend together and one of the eras I felt kinda disconnected to her at the time and my old friends always hated her. I never stopped loving her but she kinda became like the popular girl and I couldn't relate to that even though I was also hanging out with my friends a lot during that time..but by reputation I was fully back in and also by that time all my friends had left me lol..so weirdly it did kinda like up with my life actually..which is why I'll forever love Taylor haha. Thats so cute..I think I found the Teardrops MV on someone's Myspace actually lol! I knew Our Song and maybe some of her other videos but never actually owned the Debut album. Fun.fact..i had the biggest crush on a boy named Drew in high school too..so I really relate to the song and gives me memories of high school. Ooh I connected Is it over Now? To her fame and career actually similar to the Lucky One or Nothing New but I didn't think of the slut connection! But I also saw a lot of people say is it over Now is probably a relationship..and as a closer, maybe it's actually pretty similar to Clean and that's my favorite song on the album so I'm kinda excited for that one now too. Also..I have never been out of the country so I think it's so cool that you came here from Hong Kong! I can't imagine what that would be like.

My favorite show was probably Wicked..cuz that was the first show I ever saw..and I had a lot of excitement for it. I didn't know the whole story and seeing the costumes and sets was also cool. Rent was another favorite, which I think I told you. I also got to see Darren Criss in Hedwig as the second show I saw. I liked Into the Woods cuz I got to see Gavin Creel and Stephanie J Block and her husband. I saw CATS and Lucky enough to be 2nd row and see the makeup and costumes up close and it was my 1st show back since the pandemic..so it made me really excited. I got to see HP and the Cursed Child and I never saw a play before but it wouldn't be my fav cuz it didn't have any songs..but still liked some music. Hadestown was cool cuz it's all singing and the effects and i wasn't as familiar with it either. It would be so cool to see that show without knowing anything about it beforehand.. Dear Evan Hansen is one of my fav shows as well and that was the last show I saw. But i never got to see Waitress or Hamilton and those would have been favorites probably. I'm still hoping for Les Mis next month too. What about you? How many shows have you seen overall or estimated?

Ya it didn't feel like that much..obviously they added the two songs and maybe a few 5 minute scenes..idk. I am excited to watch Theater Camp later tonight. How was it? I hope it's good and that you liked it! For the books, it was a book called the Unfortunate side effects of Heartbreak and Magic..I just read the synopsis but it was a book about witches so that's why I considered it. The other one was called Running Past Dark and it was kinda a mystery and what happened to her twin sister. I read a snippet of it but was unsure cuz I think both of these books just came out too so idk. But that one seemed kinda similar to another book called Whistleblower that's on my list..I think I picked it for orange cover. It's just a maybe at this point though. I hope you're taking this time to relax and feel better!!!

thank you!! 🤍 i am still not feeling super great, so i might have to go back to the doctor's this week :( apologies in advance for 1) how late this reply is + 2) if i missed anything !! 🤍

i think the ice cream cover is so so cute! i just love how happy she looks in these photos :") and i didn't notice that until you/your sister pointed that out! i love 1989, but i connect more to some of her other albums/gravitate towards them more! the album i reach for the least is definitely reputation, but i also still like it a lot. i'm very curious to see how rep tv will sound, since it's the most recent one. and i sometimes find myself wondering how her 5th album would've sounded — or how different her career would be today — if she had won for red!! i was never on myspace, but i remember seeing things about taylor's myspace!! my first social media was facebook, and i was definitely far too young to have a facebook account haha. i feel like whenever my friends and i theorize about vault tracks and how they'll sound, we're wildly off, so it'll be interesting to see what we get!!

wicked is SO fun live!!! the costumes and the set and choreo is just so good, it's just a show and i hope the movie will be similarly impressive. i don't know if i told you that i've never seen rent — i was supposed to see the ... 20th anniversary tour a few years ago when they were in seattle but also had bronchitis back then (funnily enough, wicked was also here that summer and i also had to miss seeing wicked that time around). i'm so so jealous you saw gavin creel, SJB and seb arcelus in into the woods — i wanted to see into the woods so badly </3 i've been very lucky to see a lot of shows but i've also seen a lot of things repeatedly so my number is pretty high! i think my favorite show i've ever seen live is either: hadestown, newsies (first show on broadway, very sentimental to me), marie dancing still, waitress, or come from away but i think i also have a lot of very fond memories associated with specific shows/performances — like i met one of my best friends at oklahoma!

i really enjoyed theatre camp! it was like, everything i love and hate about theatre people and i will admit that i cried a bit at the end!!! but i do cry at everything! i love molly gordon <3333 and noah galvin is very, very talented. did you like it? what did you think of it? and ooh! you'll have to let me know how those books are! i haven't been reading much lately but i have been watching some tv!! i finally watched season 2 of heartstopper, and then finished watching why didn't they ask evans? (i watched the first ep and then never finished but finished last night)! i'm almost done with my audiobook though, and then hopefully i'll feel up to reading something soooonish.

hope you're doing well and having a good monday! 🤍

[aparticularbandit]

I'm challenging you to write those three lines for all four 😈😈😈

Specifically though, I want from Stolen.

WIP Wednesday Game

Words for profic done and not being posted, and then the other snippets are below the cut!

agatha - stephen encounter:

“Girls, girls!” A voice that shouldn’t be booming booms down towards them, echoing off of the sanctum’s cold stone and tile interior.  Stephen strides down the stairway near the middle of the entryway – a stairway that would be epic, if America hadn’t seen it thousands of times by now.  His voice causes her to turn from her girlfriend to him, and she crosses her arms, already on the defensive, as he continues, “Where’s the fire?  You’re both safe.”

America resents that.  He’d wanted her safe after their first adventure together, too, and she’d thought he was like an older brother or someone who cared, but then he’d disappeared for over a year while she reached out to the woman who had tried so hard to destroy her.  Stephen should have been her mentor, not Wanda.

Not that she’s mad or anything.  If she hadn’t started her journey with Wanda, she would never have met Wendy.

But she’s not particularly happy about it either.

~

The Thrall of Magic:

If Agatha hadn’t been here, Wanda – most likely – would have died.  She knows that.  The magic Wanda tried to wrap around her little finger would have snapped it clean off, would have overwhelmed her just as those darling twins of hers drew their first not newborn breaths, would have consumed her alive while she tried to maintain spells too broken to maintain themselves without drawing their power from her.  She knows that.

The question is why magic would have wanted to draw Agatha here in the first place, why magic should care so much for this war-torn child as to fill her with this power that she can’t control, and on which no one – no one – seems to care to train her.  Why magic chose someone as ignorant as Wanda Maximoff to channel it at its greatest, why it would let her take a title she didn’t deserve.

As if anyone deserved any gifts that magic deigned to give them.

~

Stolen:

Wanda’s thumb strokes the whalebone, thumbnail beginning to just scratch the surface, to dig into one side of the intricate carvings, and you know it doesn’t do any good, but you reach out, you stretch, you feel fire along limbs you no longer have, or the imaginings of them, limbs that would be there if you were still connected enough to your body to control it, and it doesn’t matter how it burns, you need to—

“Maybe you should.”

Without another word, Wanda passes the brooch back to Agnes, who clips it safely back into its place just at the base of her throat.  You don’t know what she feels – if she feels anything at all – when you try to regain control.  No, you know that she doesn’t feel anything.  Wanda proved it best when she brought you back here; Agnes isn’t a real person.  Just a construct.

One she can shift and craft and change to be whatever she wants her to be.

At another time, you might question what, exactly, Wanda wants of Agnes, but most of the time, you try to distance yourself from that.  She gives you enough – non-subtle – clues.  You don’t want to think about it.