#who knew toads were demonic

[chomesuke]

in the castlevania game I'm playing, the bestiary describes toads as "the result of a demonic ritual gone wrong"

[gatorbites-imagines]

please pretty please good sir, please right an imagines of Kurt Wagner with a demon, like full on demon from like the Bible s/o, like straight up like a prince of hell kind of demon.

p.s. I love your fics sm 💐🌅

Kurt Wagner x Demon male reader

Headcanons

Did you guys know that in olden time, people thought owls and toads were linked to the devil? Was this an excuse to give the reader animal characteristics? Yes, yes it was. Fruits like strawberries and cherries were also used to symbolize different more bodily involved sins. I took a bit of inspo to how the demons look in Dictionnaire Infernal, since they’re cool and goofy.

I may still be tired and wrung out from all my classes, but the will to write lives on. How’s everyone’s week been?

No one had known you were a demon in the beginning. Everyone just kind of assumed you were another mutant. They already had one member of the x-men who had wings, so it wasn’t the wildest thought that you were like warren.

Your wings were a bit more like an eagle owl, and sure, sometimes your eyes would morph into something like a toad or even a goat, but they had seen much weirder.

You not stepping inside churches or other holy areas was mainly seen as a personal preference, since you were so casual about it. you technically could step inside the buildings, but it was too much work to be worth it for you.

Instead you’d hang out outside with the others who didn’t feel a need to step inside. And yeah, you may have carved a sigil or two into the building behind your back, so you could teleport there in the future to cause some trouble if you got bored.

Demons had no specific form, at least your father didn’t and so you didn’t. you simply morphed into the one that felt most comfortable, making most believe you had a shapeshifting mutation.

There were multiple kings of hell, but your father had always been the most powerful and most influential, so you were expected to follow in his footsteps, which was why you had kind of ran away to earth.

It was just so boring, sitting there and doing all that kingly work so your father could retire with the other ancient kings, since demons don’t die, they can simply only be ignored and rebutted.

You had never meant to help the x-men or join them, but they’d been there at the right place at the wrong time, and just happened to catch some human trying to assault you for being a “mutant”

It was only the x-men stepping in that kept you from trapping the guy in eternal damnation, but you decided why not just play along for now, see where it takes you. And before you knew it, you were an x-men, helping to “fight for the good of mutant kind” or whatever.

It wasn’t hard to make you seem like a mutant, for you to even show up when Charles was looking for mutants with his powers.

It was all good and dandy, until that furry blue bastard wormed his way into the six pitch black organs you called your hearts. Well, sometimes it was six, sometimes twenty, sometimes zero, it really depended on the day.

But it was six the day you realized Kurt had gotten into your good graces. More than that honestly, as he made you feel… flustered. How he succeeded in making a demon like yourself flustered was still a mystery to you.

You had been drawn to him in the beginning because of his whole “blue demon” thing, only for it to turn out that Kurt was religious, and would sometimes wear a cross. He even prayed at times, the action always making your skin itch.

Kurt was honestly the only one to start putting things together since he knew some about demonology, hell, your name was just a shortened version of your infernal title. Weaker demons showing up and groveling at your feet and referring to you as their prince probably didn’t help.

Luckily it had just been Kurt around at the time, but the blue imp clocked you quicker than you thought they would.

Surprisingly, Kurt didn’t hate you or fear you. To him, you were an x-men and helped save people, so you weren’t fully bad. He even went out of his way to pray somewhere else so your hands wouldn’t burn and for your wings to start burning at the edges.

Somewhere along the way, what you had morphed into more than just a friendship. You had an inkling that your father would have your hide when he realized you had bedded a mortal, and one so clearly meant for heaven when the day came.

But eternity was so long, so who could blame you for wanting to spend it with someone as kind as Kurt. Even if you knew somewhere deep inside, that you would mourn Kurt for most of that eternity when the time came.

Kurt talked you into telling the x-men your true origin. They were hurt in the beginning, and you politely stepped out of the team since you technically weren’t a mutant, and you wanted to respect that.

That didn’t stop you from hanging out at the mansion, or on Krakoa when that came around. How you got on the island? You would never tell, mainly because it drove Scott crazy that he could never figure it out.

After coming out of the hellfire closet, you felt less need to control your form to the same degree. To most you were still just a mutant, since the body you wore the most had been a mutant, so… it counted in a loophole kinda way.

Everyone got good at clocking who you were, even on days when you altered your shape completely. Kurt was obviously the best. Even on days where you had a lion head and the tail of a snake, or when you had three heads and a burning crown.

It was a little awkward when Kurt became a priest and built his own religion like thing, mainly because you just couldn’t get yourself to touch him when he wore the uniform.

It was the aura for the most part. None of the others got it, or saw it like you did, but they weren’t demons, so it made sense. But Kurt always carried an aura, and it was manageable enough on regular days. But after sermons it just got strong enough to make your tongue buzz and your feathers puff up.

Kurt got good at wiping himself off in a metaphorical way, so you guys could kiss and cuddle even on days he did sermons. And you as a demon were way too strong to truly to hurt by it, it just got a bit annoying sometimes.

All in all, you two were happy. Even if you had to chase away demons that wanted to take over earth every now and then. Your father had never given you your own domain, so you just kinda slapped your name on earth and told every other demon to square up for it.

Some did come out of the woodwork to fight, mainly just because they could. No one really wanted earth. Too much trouble, too much holy interference, and all those magicians? No way. It was just older demons wanting a good fight for the most part.

Kurt also came to really like your less human look. Maybe he was projecting, but there was something nice about having a partner that didn’t look too “human”, if he could say that without being offensive.

There were days where you looked like the average human man. But other days you were more beast than man, or even the days where you didn’t even want a blood-filled body, so you were made out of sand or water, or anything along those lines.

He did have a preference for forms where you had a tail, because it was comforting to coil your tails together. Or if the form you took had claws, since it felt so good to have your hands rubbing up and down his back and scratch through his fuzz.

There were times when Kurt forgot to take off his cross, or hide it under his shirt, so you did get small burns, even if they went away in a few seconds. You didn’t care much, but seeing Kurt apologize was always very cute.

Having a powerful demon like you on the side of the x-men also helped out a lot during fights. You stayed out of it for the most part, to “keep balance of the mortal plane” or whatever your father said.

There were times when Kurt was in mortal danger where you stepped in though, but you always contained the worst of your powers.

And staying back also meant you could focus your powers on healing those that needed it. Kurt got the most of it, of course, as you would cuddle and kiss him, your kisses transferring the healing energy instead.

It was nice. And yes, you knew one day you’d be alone again, stuck on earth after claiming it as your territory. But the present was so good, so warm and loving, that the cold empty future didn’t matter.

[ashdreams2023]

Detention

Summary: So the student reader gets detention by Snape and she has to go to Umbridge for it. The next day, Snape steals a glance at her hand and takes a look at it, not knowing it was Umbridge who did that to her. He then feels guilty because he was the one to have send her to Umbridge. He does go and confronts Umbridge about it, protecting the reader. Something like that?

Requested by: @inner-sparkle-inner-writings

Severus snape x reader

Detentions weren’t something new to you, everyone got them, you’ll have to be a perfect teacher’s pet to avoid them completely, and that was the furthest thing from you.

To be fair you didn’t go looking for trouble, you just happened to find yourself in the middle of it, you tried to avoid it as best as you could but you weren’t that slick.

But this year it was different, you had to avoid them, you’ve seen how some of your friends got punished and it was starting to stress you out, you’ve tried to follow every dumb rule that pink woman threw at you but your patience could only run so far, your breaking point was when Draco pointed out that you were too close to one of your male friends and you just snapped.

After a few cuss words and multiple hexes Professor snape came to end that ruckus and gave you detention with the pink demon herself.

“Sir, can’t I have my detention scrubbing the dungeon floors?”

Professor snape raised a brow at that “as much as that sounds appealing young lady, I have more important things to deal with so off you go” you honestly wanted to cry right then and there, it was unfair, especially since Malfoy got nothing but being sent to help in the greenhouse.

You dreaded that upcoming detention like it was your execution day, your friends couldn’t even comfort you because they knew it was gonna be awful.

And it was, your hand ached for hours afterward, and writing made it even worse, you weren’t a little first year but that thing stung like hell.

By the next day, you were more than grumpy, you didn’t talk to anybody and kept scratching at your wound in frustration.

It was lunchtime when professor snape came by your table strolling, he didn’t say anything at first then his eyes fell on the engraved words on the back of your hand, he was confused, to say the least, you wouldn’t do this to yourself…

“I would like a word with you young lady if you would” he took you to one of the empty halls and demanded you tell him what that was about, and you already had enough of everybody that morning and just threw it at him.

“It’s my detention professor, the same one everyone was getting, the one every adult in this facility seems to find acceptable, even on first-year students!”

Snape paused, he felt his blood run cold, this was the lines that Umbridge claimed to be giving the students! He might be strict and unfair at times but that was straight-up abuse and you had to go through that because he didn’t want to deal with stupid detentions.

“I…I need to speak with professor umbridge and here” he handed you a small bottle “it will help not get it infected” you blinked at him then nodded while taking the bottle.

“Professor…what are you planning to do?”

Snape huffed “what I should’ve done a long time ago” that pink toad has something coming to her if she thinks she can continue doing this while he breathes.

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Credits Dialogue

All This Shit is Weird

Trespasser Masterpost

—

Cassandra: What is this? A new book? “All This Shit is Weird.” Oh, Varric. That is a terrible title. What are you even thinking?

Cassandra: “The sky churned like a roiling sea on a dark and stormy night, centered on a gaping hole that led to the ass-end of nowhere. A hole that spit up many things that day: comets, demons… and a whole lot of trouble.” (Gasps.) It’s about the Inquisition!

Cassandra: “The din of the tavern cut the silence like it owed the Carta money. In the middle, in her element, Red Jenny. She looked me up and down—mostly down. ‘Not playing, weirdy,’ she said, gesturing with, and dismissively eating, a sandwich. ‘Don’t write that. Seriously, piss up a rope.’ Sera made the subtext text, which suited me fine.”

Cassandra: “The court enchanter swirled into the room like a drop of beautiful poison spreading in a wine glass. She sized me up with a glance. ‘I’m so glad you made it, my dear,’ she said, ‘I am Madame de Fer, the most terrifying person you shall ever meet.’”

Cassandra: “Leliana enfolded Alphonse in an embrace as warm as a serpent’s kiss. ‘I always knew I could count on your support.’ The count did not feel the bite of her poisoned dart until it was too late. ‘Even if it requires… your death.’”

Cassandra: “Drops of rain glistened on the griffon medallion grasped tightly in Blackwall’s hand. ‘The Silverite Wings of Valor. They mean nothing.’ He flung the medal to the cold and uncaring ground. ‘You don’t know what I’ve done! You. Don’t. Know. Me.’” (Sighs.) So romantic.

Cassandra: “Cole moved like a shadow that also moved like a knife, a shadow wearing a hat where dreams came to die. ‘It’s a riddle,’ he whispered. ‘A cold riddle that gnaws at your mind, but you’ll feel better when it’s gone.’” That… makes as much sense as anything Cole says.

Cassandra: “‘Do you place your Herald above the law, Ambassador?’ ‘Whose law, my lady?’ Josephine’s eyes glittered like angry opals. ‘The law destroyed by rebellion? By civil war? By poor fiscal management? We are the law!’”

Cassandra: “We left our mark on Adamant, but the dust hadn’t settled… and neither had Harding. ‘I can offer you a drink, if I catch your meaning.’ ‘If you’d caught my meaning, you’d have offered a double.’” What is even happening here?

Cassandra: “The Iron Bull was a great slab of muscle with horns that could hang a tapestry. One eye scanned for threats, while the other hid behind an eye patch like a Chantry sister’s old sins. ‘Come on,’ he barked, not looking back as he entered. ‘The dancer with the great rack comes on in five.’” That is… spot-on, actually.

Cassandra: “The commander had the look of a templar who had seen the worst of humanity, yet still had the time to style his hair. ‘This isn’t just a war,’ he said, his gaze steely like a dull blade. ‘It’s the only war.’” Cullen! That’s Cullen!

Cassandra: “The mage wore a class of handsome sneer cultivated by a thousand years of Tevinter elitism. ‘The name’s Dorian,’ he glared. ‘D-O-R-I-A-N. Spell it right, you marble-headed lump, or it’s… toad time.’” A toad? That’s hardly credible.

Cassandra: “The bald elf spun, mage staff crackling like the city after a good man’s murder. ‘You’re crazy!’ the red templar cried in terror. Moonlight glinted off ears like the knives you never see coming. ‘Better to fade out than burn away.’” Ugh. Varric.

Cassandra: Wait, where am I? I don’t… oh, here it is. “The Seeker clutched at my vest, her tears as desperate as they were pitiful. ‘Varric, I was wrong about everything,’ she sobbed. ‘Could you find it in your noble heart to forgive me?’” That dwarf, he… he… He put me in the book! (Giggles.) I’m in the book! I am reading the shit out of this.

[slippinmickeys]

I have always had this idea of writing a fantasy-like AU where unbeknownst to her, Scully is a witch and Mulder has been cursed as her familiar, spending his nights, ‘Ladyhawke’-like, as an animal, and his days as a man. I doubt I’ll ever write a full-length fic, but wanted to exorcise the demon, and I had a few rare, free hours this afternoon.

Familiar

Dana wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and looked up at the dark underbelly of the canopy. The oak leaves were still, but there was fluttering movement not high above her head. Feathered things flew in the daylight, but she knew other things, darker things, flew at night. With a swallow of unease, she began to walk more quickly.

There was an old crofters cottage by the edge of the wood past the Roman road that she could rest in if she could get to it. The roof would no doubt leak in the rain and it would be damp as a toad’s foot, but she didn’t feel comfortable out in the open—not with that creature following her. Not with the shouts of “witch!” still ringing in her ears.

She turned to look behind her and saw nothing, but she could sense the animal there, hiding in the undergrowth, biding its time. Patiently stalking her, she thought.

It had been following her for the last three days, glimpses of movement on her periphery, too quick to be human. It had been following her since she’d been run out of her village, since Alexander had whispered “conjurer” to the men as they worked in the fields, to the women as they combed the wool. It had followed her like a shadow, like the rumor that had made her leave.

She spit into the duff. Alexander . He had been her friend, but she had refused his advances. His proposals of marriage. She hadn’t explained that she wanted more from life than to be a brood mare to a villein, working a landlord’s farm, but he knew and the love he’d carried in his eyes turned quickly to hate.

A branch snapped not far behind her, and she cursed her wandering mind, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt. The blade, long and old as the Norsemen who used to land on their shores, seemed to hum as she touched it. She’d named the skean “Bite,” and like the teeth of a cat, it never needed to be sharpened.

The animal, whatever it was, was growing more bold, no longer satisfied with following her at a distance. She was tiring of being stalked, and whipped around on the old game trail, her cloak twirling dramatically around her legs. As she turned, she caught a flash of amber in the moonlight.

“Out then!” She shouted. “Show yourself and let us have it out! I have a shadow already, I have no need for a new one!”

Nothing answered her but the dull hooting of an owl.

She sniffed the air, but caught no scent and turned slowly, having no choice but to continue her lonely sojourn through the wood.

She had no idea where she would go. It had to be far, far away from the village where she’d come of age, left as a babe on the doorstep of a country peasant, wrapped in quality wool with Bite tucked into the bottom of the creel in which she lay, the basket thatched together tightly with river grasses that did not grow anywhere in the whole of the county. The mantle of “conjurer” would follow her like stink clung to the hide of a pig.

She was already the odd orphan with hair like fire, where everyone around her had pelts the color of mud. Perhaps she could lose herself in one of the bigger cities. Though how she would feed, clothe and shelter herself was another matter altogether. She had only the coin she’d sown into the lining of her cloak last autumn.

Ahead, there was a break in the line of trees with dull moonlight shining on a field of barley. The light beyond the field was the grey of twilight; dawn wasn’t far away. If she could make it to the crofter’s cottage without being seen, she could sleep the day away there, rest her head and her sore, aching feet. Leave behind the feeling of being shadowed, of being shunned.

Through the field of barley she walked, a low stone wall just west of the field in a long, unending line, the barrier denoting where one landowner’s property ended and another’s began.

She looked over her shoulder. She saw nothing. A tingling at the base of her spine, however, told her that she had not lost her shadow. Whatever it was was still behind her, though she could not see it. Perhaps it was pressed to the ground like a slinking cat. Perhaps it was something that couldn’t be seen.

The barley was still green. There were tight knots of plaited beads at the tops of its stalks that would be harvested in a few months time, the rough seeds surrounded by long, thin whiskers that grazed along the skin of her arms as she walked, like a lover’s caress.

Or what a lover's caress might feel like if she’d ever granted a man her consent. Alexander was not the only young man in town to have looked at her a bit too long, but her adopted mother had been protective and had warned her of what they might do. She’d raised Dana to be strong and quick, to be aware of her surroundings. Especially when the milites came through, collecting taxes of coin and wool. Those were the men you needed to be careful of, Old Mildred had warned her. Local men could be just as dangerous, but they would think twice being that everyone knew where they laid their heads.

“Any man who touches you without invitation,” she’d tell Dana loudly whenever a villager would look at her with want. “You wait until he sleeps and slice off his cock!”

With a pang, Dana thought of the woman who had found her on her threshold as a babe, who had raised her as her own, though she’d never married, preferring the company of milking goats and chickens. She had been dead not five months, and oh how Dana’s life had changed in that short burst of time.

Over a hill and through a field of rye she walked, ducking under a stile as the light in the sky turned grey, the last of the night’s stars winking off. There at the bottom of the dale stood the crofter’s cottage, surrounded on two sides by thick, old elms.

She picked up her step, letting the pull of the earth carry her more quickly down the hill toward her salvation. The feeling of the creature behind her was even closer now and the urge to draw Bite from its scabbard at her waist and thrust it into the night behind her was nearly overpowering. Instead, she pushed on.

She was almost to the cottage with its thick oaken door. She would be behind it momentarily and safe. But of course that’s when she stumbled over a hidden root.

She fell hard on her side, wrenching her shoulder and bruising her hip. Before she could get to her feet came the sound of heavy padded feet and another crack of branch stepped on. Raising her eyes, she finally caught sight of her pursuer. A large fox, thick of pelt and red as her own hair, darted behind one of the elms just as the rays of the sun rose over the horizon behind it, blinding her momentarily. She blinked several times. And when her vision cleared, it wasn’t a fox that stepped out from behind the old tree, but a man.

Scrabbling to her feet, she whipped Bite from its sheath despite the pain in her shoulder and held it up, the sharp tip pointed at the man who stood before her.

He was young, she saw, perhaps only a year or two older than her. With the blaze of the newly risen sun behind him, his hair looked as fleecy and golden as the fox he had replaced, though when she looked more closely, she found that his hair was brown. She couldn’t discern eye color, but could see that his chin was strong, with a longish nose that leant his face character. He was tall, too. His head nearly as high as the local Sheriff’s gelding.

“Hullo,” he said, his voice light.

She did not gift him with a reply, merely flicking her blade with a quick movement of her wrist. He would know she knew how to wield the weapon she carried.

“You’re the one the villagers call Dana,” he said. His voice was like a low mumble, though pleasant enough.

“I’m the one the villagers call ‘witch,’’’ she hissed, hoping to scare him. Instead of stumbling back in fear though, the young man merely grinned.

She stared at him a long moment, waiting for him to approach or attack, but he leaned against the tree instead.

“You’ve been following me,” she finally said, lowering Bite a bit, though only a bit. She wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

He shrugged, lackadaisical. She felt her hackles raise.

“You don’t deny it?”

He shrugged again. “It is more an act of self-preservation than ill-intentioned pursuit,” the man explained.

She was losing her fear of him. Or the fear was turning into vexation.

That she had been convinced that her pursuer was an animal rather than a man was not helping. When the fox had walked behind the tree and the man had emerged from the other side with the very breaking of dawn, she had been confused. And confusion always turned her angry. You are too intelligent, Old Mildred had always laughed. Stupid people are always happier, smart people frequently vexed.

“You are Dana, are you not?” he asked.

“You plan to turn me in to the witch slayers?”

“I plan nothing of the kind.”

“Then I am Dana,” she said, and, on a gut feeling, re-sheathed her blade.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said, looking relieved.

“You now know my name,” she said. “I ask you to tell me yours.”

Now that the sun had risen further, he was easier to see. He had kind eyes and was wearing a tightly-woven flaxen garment dyed the color of leaves in the winter.

“I only know what they called me in the village,” he said, a wistful, almost lost look on his face.

“And what’s that?”

“Fox,” he said, with a sheepish tilt to his head.

Her stomach dipped and goose flesh spread over the skin of her arms. Still, what he said was intriguing enough. “Have you no memory?”

“I have knowledge,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He knew unknowable things, she could somehow tell. “But I have no past that I know of.”

“You sound similar to me in that way.”

His eyes sharpened. “You have no past?”

“I have a story that lacks a beginning,” she said simply. “And lately am called only ‘witch.’”

“The villagers don’t know what a witch really is,” he said. “You are not what they think you are.”

“I am not,” she agreed, standing up taller and thrusting forward her chin.

“But a witch you are,” he said, taking a small step toward her. “And I? Am your familiar.”

[obae-me]

ooo i have a suggestion!! (if you're still taking them)

how about mammon and an mc who won't let him get out of bed in the morning?

So sweet! I can definitely do something with this! Thank you for the suggestion!

‐-------------------

How does one tell when it's morning in a realm where the sun doesn't even exist? For the longest time, the only thing MC had to go off of was the clock on their D.D.D. Everything else felt unchanging. However, the longer they remained down here, the more they adjusted. Sure, the moon was ever-constant, darkness persisting through morn, noon, and night, but they began wake up naturally to the peaceful silence that came just after dawn, the crooked-horned toads and devil doves coming together in a chorus as the day started.

Well, there was that and the fact that Mammon was a surprisingly early riser. Perhaps time really was money, and the longer he was awake meant the more he could gain. So, when MC's first pact-mate began to frequently keep them safe by 'guarding' the bed, they found themselves waking up anytime the demon of greed rather un-stealthily got ready for the day.

But on this particular morning, MC was not having it. Morning dew that sparkled across the lawns and the leaves like the stars in the sky be damned. This was the weekend. So when they felt the demon next to them start to pull back the comforter and let all that cold air rush in? They clamped their arm around his waist and pulled him back in.

"Hey!" Mammon exclaimed, his voice deeper than usual, slightly cracking with the grogginess that comes with just waking up.

They ignored his cry, locking their legs around his and clinging onto him. If he were to move, he would have to either pry them off or carry them out. Both of which he could easily do, but he wouldn't, they knew that. "Stay," they ordered, eyes still shut, more than likely still half asleep.

He scoffed a bit, trying to turn around while still in their clutches so he could face them. "What, am I your personal heater or somethin'?"

Perhaps, but that wasn't the only reason. Maybe they simply just found comfort in his presence, being able to sleep soundly with him in their dreams. Maybe times like these sated that inner craving for peace. He was always calmer in the mornings. Whether that be due to exhaustion or being around them, MC would never really know, but they wanted to trust in their heart of hearts that it was the latter. "Just... be with me longer," they asked, the grip they held on his sleep shirt suggesting that they would be hard pressed to accept no as an answer.

Mammon sighed. "Well, when you say it like that, I can't deny ya." He shifted a little as he settled back against his pillow. They felt as he took his hand and ran it over their head, settling his palm on the back of their neck as he pulled them closer, keeping them close to his chest. MC gave one last yawn before falling back asleep, finally satisfied having out-tempted a demon. Mammon simply smiled before shutting his own eyes, his heart warm at the thought of his human giving into greed, and that the thing they so desperately wanted was himself. “Mammon, you idiot,” he whispered. “What did you do to get so attached to a human like this? You’re really in for it now.” But he was fine with it. He knew love tended to be a risky gamble, but for them...he’d bet the house on it. Even if that meant being stuck in bed for the next few hours till they woke up. An easy sacrifice to make. 

[lucienarcheron]

Unexpected Surprises [ Elucien ]

Prompt: Lucien has been trying to plan the perfect proposal for his mate for months. Things do not go as expected. 

Elain’s dress | Ring 1 | Ring 2

The room was silent enough that you could hear a pin drop.

Lucien and Nesta stared at each other, seated across the table at The House of Wind. Lucien with a quirked brow and Nesta narrowed eyes. 

The two hadn’t always seen eye to eye. In fact, Nesta’s scowl seemed to deepen, and Lucien’s own glare intensified every time they were in the same space. But the two had found common ground. They had even, dare say, gotten along here and there. 

But Lucien needed something from Nesta and Nesta...well, she liked being annoying.

“What do I get in return?”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “Your sister’s happiness? My undying gratitude.”

“Hmm, your gratitude sounds awfully sarcastic.”

“That’s the only appropriate response to your question.“

Nesta tsked. “Now, now Lucien. Don’t be a toad. I would like you to politely ask me.”

Lucien gave a long-suffering sigh and Nesta smirked. “Nesta, would you please tell me where you hid the ring I want to propose to Elain with?”

Nesta snorted. “You trusted me so much with it, yet you question me as if I’d lose it?” she said and then shrugged her shoulders. “Say I lost it. What does it matter what ring you get her? You’re mates anyway. You’re in love. It’s not like she’s going to say no.”

They both knew why it had to be this particular ring but again, Nesta really enjoyed getting on Lucien’s nerves. 

He scowled. “Well, what do you want from me then? What is it going to take for you to give it back to me?” 

“Hmm. What do I want?”

Lucien braced himself. He knew she could ask him to do something humiliating. Nesta always had an eye for it. Granted, he was a total dick about it right back, but it was why their very childish relationship worked. They were great assholes to each other. 

He rolled his eyes when she finally smiled at him. That stupid sinister smile.

“You are so annoying.” he muttered, and she barked a laugh. 

“Oh, you’ll know the proper meaning of annoying once I’m done with you.” she cooed and stood. “Come back to me after three days. I’ll tell you what I want.” 

“Three days?!”

“I can make it four.” she immediately replied with a smirk. “Or five or six days.”

Lucien glared and huffed. “Fine. Three days. If you don’t tell me, I’m going tell Elain exactly how unhelpful you were and that you stole the ring that I only gave you because I panicked she was going to wear my jacket then make sure you won’t be there for the actual proposal.”

Nesta snorted. “As if you’d dare.” 

“Oh, I dare.” 

The two smiled at each then, terribly mean smiles.

“Are you testing me, cockroach?” Nesta asked quietly.

“Oh, I am, demon.” Lucien confirmed.

In a strange way, the two of them were the very best of friends. 

“Three days, you weasel.”

“I’d say I look forward to seeing you then, but that would be a lie, you witch.” 

Nesta chuckled and then blew him a kiss to which Lucien’s immediate response was to gag audibly. 

~

Three days passed as Lucien planned and planned and planned. Each plan was more extravagant than the other, but he still needed a base to compare — just in case — the idiot human had actually done something memorable. Most importantly, he needed his fucken ring.

When Lucien finally had Cassian bring him up to The House of Wind again, Nesta showed up on the evening of day three with such a sweet smile that Lucien knew he was fucked.

“Well?” he drawled. 

“It turns out I accidentally left it with a special friend. You will need to spend the night with said friend and then you may return with the ring.” Nesta said simply. “Then, and only then will I give you my blessings.”

Lucien snorted. “Who said I wanted your blessings?”

“Forgive me but I must be mistaken,” Nesta said with raised brows. “Did you really think you would have a blissful time planning a wedding for my sister dearest without my involvement? I didn’t think you were this big of a moron, you red-haired buffoon.”

Lucien leaned his head back and let out a groan of frustration. Nesta only smiled.

He glared at her. “Is this revenge for the time I accidentally set your reading nook on fire?”

“You say accidentally, I say planned assault.”

“I was drunk!”

“And somehow knew how to find your way to my reading nook.” 

Lucien pursed his lips, his glare intensified as she smirked at him. What did that evil witch have in store for him? 

“You have a magic house that gets you any books you want and yet, I have to suffer for an accidental mistake.” he snapped. “You’re sabotaging my proposal!”

The House seemed to flutter at its mention. Nesta only smiled that annoying smile.

“I’m making your proposal more worthwhile.” she said sweetly. “It’s now a grand gesture.”

Lucien scowled and then took a deep breath before glaring at her again.

“Fine. Fine.” he finally said. This was all for Elain. He would be fine. He could do it. Whatever it is. “Who is this friend, why do I have to spend the night, and why do they have my ring in the first place?”

Like a storyteller weaving you a nightmare, Nesta explained slowly, “Deep in the wonderful House of Wind, there is a magical library. And even deeper into that magical library, you will find one of the most fascinating creatures I’ve encountered. This creature terrifies some and is a darling pet to others.” she paused and smiled wickedly as the color drained from Lucien’s face. “Naturally, I am the latter.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Oh, but I’m not.” she said with a grin. “Bryaxis dear has your precious ring. In return for holding on to it, it requested some company. You will spend the night with it to keep it company. The next morning you will return with your ring, and I will be more than delighted to assist you with any and all proposal preparations. 

Lucien shot out of his seat in outrage. “It could eat me!”

“That would be the hope, wouldn’t it?” Nesta muttered and Lucien glared at her. “But no, it won’t. I’ve made a bargain. All it wants is tales of far-off lands and adventures. You’ve had those. Make use of them.”

Lucien’s glare intensified before he closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He thought of Elain again. He thought back to when both Feyre and Rhys as well as Nesta and Cassian finally had small intimate weddings, and Lucien had watched Elain’s face and the way her eyes lit up in happiness and glee at the ceremony of her sister’s happiness.  Lucien had also seen the flicker of sadness on her face when she thought no one was looking.

All of it would be for Elain. This was something she would want. It would make her happy, so Lucien was going to propose. He was going to propose in the most ridiculous way possible and let her plan the wedding of her dreams, outdoing both of her sisters. He would do anything to make her happy.  She would be his mate and wife.

And he sure loved the sound of the word wife. 

But first, get through this trial of doom.

“You’re just delighted by this, aren’t you?”

“Over the moon.” Nesta replied with a wave of her hand. 

“Fine, you fiend,” he replied with a disgruntled noise. “I can’t wait for the day when I return the favor.”

Nesta cackled. “I have no doubt you’ll only plan the best revenge for me.” 

With a final glare, Lucien sighed then took off, knowing he’d have to prepare and somehow explain to Elain he’d be spending the night elsewhere. 

~

Nesta had the audacity to walk Lucien down to the area where Bryaxis stayed after permission was granted by the priestess for him to pass through. The smug smile on her face dulled any fear from Lucien because all he could do was picture himself throttling her.

“Here we are.” she said in a sweet singsong voice. “Bryaxis will find you so just wait here.”

Lucien took one look at the dark hallway and sighed then glared at Nesta. “Just so you know, when I get back, I’m going to choke the life out of you.”

Nesta only laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Not if Bryaxis doesn’t snuff the life out of you first.”

Lucien scowled at her back, still shaking with laughter. “What a wench.” he mumbled, then with a sigh, turned towards the darkness that filled the hall. He hadn’t even been granted a weapon. But no matter, he was a weapon.

He took a few steps forward, deeper into the dark hall, and lit very soft flames at his fingertips as he glanced around. Lucien waited, wondering if the wicked beast had the mind to torture him by making him wait as Nesta probably wished it. 

But then a soft voice broke the silence, “Are you my esteemed guest?”

Lucien whirled towards the voice, his hands lighting just a small space ahead of him. His heart was thundering, but his voice was clear as he answered, “Yes. I am Lucien. Where would you like me to sit, friend?”

“Are we? Friends?”

“Promise you won’t eat me and I’ll be an even better friend than the witch who sent me here.” he said with a shaky chuckle.

A dark chuckle replied. “She is very nice to me. Reads to me many stories of adventures while I look out my window.” It said, “Tell me future high lord, what stories and adventures do you have for me?”

Lucien’s brows lifted. The beast seemed to know more about him than he expected. “I’ve traveled to many places. Tell me a place you’re curious about and I’ll be happy to oblige.” 

The soft voice spoke again. “I would recommend you douse your fire. You might see more than you bargained for with me.”

A shudder ran through Lucien’s body, and he thought of Elain. This whole thing was so unnecessary but for Elain, he would do it all.

With a sigh, Lucien’s fire flickered out and made his way to the edge of the wall, sliding down into the darkness. 

“Is this a good spot for you?” he asked dully, and that dark chuckle returned.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t too happy to be here.” 

“I’m not. That demon made me. Apparently, you have the love of my life’s ring and I’m going to need that to propose.” 

The darkness seemed to halt for a moment. “You’re going to propose with this ring?”

“Yes, of course. What did Nesta tell you I wanted to do with it? Shove it up my ass?” Lucien said with a snort and the darkness laughed with him.

“She made no mention of the significance of the ring. Just that you needed to be punished for ruining her books.” 

Lucien rolled his eyes, any fear of Bryaxis gone at this point. He seemed only a tedious pet.

“It was an accident but if there’s anyone who holds a grudge worse than Rhys, it’s Nesta.” 

“Ah, the High Lord wasn’t too happy when I disappeared for a while.” It said. “The High Lady is the nicer one to me.”

Lucien snorted. “Sounds about right.” he said then sighed, shifting so his back rubbed against the wall. “Tell me friend, what stories would you like me to share?”

“Tell me about your mate.” 

Lucien tensed. “And why would I do that?”

“All you did was speak of her in passing a few moments ago but I felt the warmth.” It said. “I would like to feel more.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes. Surely Nesta wouldn’t send him to spend time with a creature that could potentially hurt Elain.

“I am bound to this place now, future high lord. I mean no harm. I am merely curious.”

“You could sell information to the highest bidder if you wanted to.”

“Surely you don’t think I’d be left alive if I had any ill will.” It said and Lucien could’ve sworn he felt the beast chortled. “The Goddess of Death and our lovely High Lady wouldn’t leave a dust particular of me.”

“Neither would I.” Lucien promised quietly. “And I have enough fire and light in me to blaze a whole continent should you decide to play games. Your darkness wouldn’t last a second.”

Bryaxis seemed to halt at this and then skitter around Lucien. “You’re so brave. All this for your love?”

“I will give my everything for my mate.” 

“Then tell me about your love.”

Lucien paused again, but this time instead of being suspicious, he felt the creature’s curiosity. “I thought you wanted stories of adventures?”

“What is love but an endless adventure?” the soft voice said. 

Surprise colored Lucien’s face then he let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t take a creature so terrifying to be such a romantic.”

“You aren’t terrified of me.” It challenged. 

“You lost your edge after I got to know Nesta on a more personal level.” Lucien said with a snort. “Plus, you haven’t seen Elain screaming at Rhys for ruining her gardenias.” 

Bryaxis chuckled, then his darkness seemed to curl around Lucien. “Tell me then. I want to hear all about your love adventure. Start with why you picked this ring.”

Lucien paused, thinking exactly how he had come to choose this ring. It took him a moment but then he smiled softly into the darkness and said, “Pearls.”

He felt the creature tilt around him. “Pearls?” It repeated.

“I first noticed it when she wore that filthy human’s ring.” he said, his lips frowning for a moment. “But then as time went on, she seemed to have a preference for them.”

Lucien blinked into the darkness as he continued. “She would wear these lovely dresses that were always adorned with pearls, and it would make every nerve in my body burn. Then she’d wear hair clips that made her seem like she was glowing, an angel with a halo.” he said and chuckled. “I gifted her pearl earrings, then a necklace and bracelet to match. Naturally, a ring seemed next.”

“Why haven’t you given it to her yet?”

Lucien paused him and licked his lips once again, smiling slightly as he felt Byraxis twist around him. “Well, have you ever heard the story of the Seer that could see all except her way home?”

“No.”

“What about the lost prince who wandered in every place trying to find home?”

“I have not.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that the two intertwine.” Lucien said quietly and the creature seemed to hold its breath. “Two lost souls, tied by a thread, pulled together by the most unlikely circumstances.”

“The story of the Fox and the Fawn.” Bryaxis said with a level of excitement Lucien wasn’t expecting. “The Kingslayer and the Son of Day.” 

He laughed softly. “You seem to know where I’m going with this.”

“Maybe so.” the creature said and Lucien felt it wrap around him closer. “But your warmth...tell me the story.”

Lucien smiled and then did exactly that. In fact, Lucien spent all night, telling Bryaxis exactly how the Fox and the Fawn came to be. How the thread between them went cold for two years. How the choke of disappointment threatened to ruin everything — how resentment started to build. How much avoidance there was.

But then he also told him of the day the Fawn called to the Fox. The day it all changed. 

Where Elain had unknowingly summoned him by the intensity of her distress alone and when Lucien barreled into the Night Court ready to kill, she had only walked up to him with silver lining her eyes and said as firmly as he’d ever heard her speak, “Take me away from here.” 

“And so, I did.” he said softly and a small smile graced his face. “She was wearing the pearl earrings I had given her for the first time. I could suddenly see her in nothing else.” 

“Pearls can be a symbol of perfection.” the creature said, and Lucien almost felt it’s smile.

“You can see why I find it so fitting for Elain.” he said with a chuckle. “The ring...suits her. It’s beautiful, elegant, and perfect. Just like she is.”

“But surely things were far from perfect.”

“Oh, they were.” Lucien said with a snort. “She may look demure, but my love can be quite mean.” 

And Lucien continues to weave the tale of the tense awkwardness of being in the same space away from everyone who had ever interfered between them. The way they had to orbit around each other while desperately trying to ignore the pull between them.

He told Bryaxis of their fights, of their conversations, of their first kiss, and how the fire in his veins liquified when her lips touched his. 

And slowly, without realizing it, Lucien started to glow as he spoke. It only made him smile as he continued to describe the feeling of holding her in his arms for the first time. Of sharing a night together. Of hearing her confess her love to him. Of saying I love you to her right back.

Lucien glowed like the dawn of a new morning as he continued all through the night, describing the adventures of the Fox and the Fawn exploring their love and the world around them together. 

When the new day finally came to be, Lucien's faint glow had settled and even Bryaxis hadn’t shuddered away, kept warm by the eternal glow of his guest’s happiness. 

“So here I am…waiting for the right moment.” Lucien finished with a sigh. “Good enough adventure tales for you?”

“For now.” It said with a chuckle and the corner of Lucien’s lips ticked up. “Your ring is in your pocket.”

Lucien’s hands immediately went to his pant pockets and let out a laugh. “It’s been there all night, hasn’t it?”

A dark chuckle was the response. “She wanted to see how long it would take until you started screaming.” 

Lucien snorted and slowly stood, stretching with a groan. “She seems to forget how much older I am than she is and how much more horrors I’ve seen.”

The creature wrapped itself around Lucien in a soft, almost embrace-like way. “Say hello to Elain for me. I hope to hear more about your adventures, Son of Day.” 

“Next time, I won’t need to lose a ring to visit. I’ll come to plan terrors with you.”

Bryaxis’ laugh followed Lucien as he made his way back towards the open halls, squinting slightly against the light, and he was pleased to find a scowling Nesta waiting for him. She crossed her arms as he smirked, adjusting his shirt.

“Well. You survived.”

Lucien laughed. “Turns out your beastly friend is a big softie. It took one mention of Elain for it to like me.”

Nesta scoffed even as a small smile graced her face. “Speaking of Elain, she’s been annoyingly asking about you all morning. As if she doesn’t trust me not to maim you.”

“No, you’ll just send me to my potential death instead.” 

Nesta sniggered, then handed him a note that instantly had Lucien perk up, as it smelled of Elain. “This is for you. Cassian is ready to throw you off the balcony to take you home.”

“Witch.”

“Cockroach.”

 Lucien waved her off to walk ahead as he opened the note.

My love. I’ve missed you all night and I hope you enjoyed helping Nesta (I know you didn’t).

His head shot up. “Helping you? She thought I let her sleep alone to help you?”

Nesta grinned over her shoulder. “What was I going to tell her? You lost her ring and I wanted to torture you?”

“I didn’t lose it! You stole it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Lucien rolled his eyes then looked back to the letter. 

Please go home, rest, eat well, and I’ll see you in the evening. I have a special surprise for you and I can’t WAIT to see you. I even picked an outfit to compliment mine ;) I love you.

He smiled. He couldn’t wait to see her either. 

~

Lucien blinked rapidly, trying his best to quell down the dangerously high range of emotions he was feeling. 

Per Elain’s instructions, he had eaten, rested, and when he woke, he washed up and dressed in the dress shirt and pants she had insisted he wear. He very securely pocketed Elain’s ring.

The moment he had stepped out of his home in the early evening, Cassian had very nearly tackled him with a blindfold and only said, “It is my mission to bring you to your surprise and I can’t let you see anything.”

Lucien allowed it and allowed the quick flight without complaining even though he desperately wanted to — his heart had been hammering in his chest and he was too excited to see Elain. He allowed Cassian to rip off the blindfold and very roughly attempt to fix his hair before casually shoving him toward his surprise.

And this was where Lucien had been frozen for the last few minutes.

Because they were now standing in the Day Court on a flower-lined path, leading to a beautifully decorated gazebo where the love of his life was standing, in a beautiful baby blue dress beaming at him. 

His eyes briefly scanned the area around him, and Lucien almost choked on the fact that his parents stood there smiling, Eris gave him a wave, and alongside them stood Rhys holding Nyx with Feyre, Nesta, and Cassian grinning obnoxiously. 

“Are you going to leave me standing here, my love? I’ve missed you.” Elain called out and only then did Lucien move. Faster than Elain expected, Lucien had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss so heated, it earned a few hoots.

Elain laughed as she pulled away and smiled up at him. “Hello to you too.”

“What — what is all this?” he asked, looking around. 

“Well…” Elain began and pulled away. She turned and Lucien watched as Nesta moved forward, handing Elain a small box and smirking at him. 

All thoughts left Lucien’s head when Elain slowly turned back to him and opened the box with a smile so bright, he was sure Bryaxis could feel it back at the Night Court. 

“Elain.” 

She only shrugged with a small laugh. “I had to have Nesta keep you distracted so I can finish setting this up.”

“She could’ve done that without having me spend the night with Bryaxis.” he said with a snort.

“She did what?” Elain said and her head snapped to glare at her older sister, but Nesta only smirked back. 

"You said you wanted him out of the way for a while."

"That could've been permanent." Elain snarled and Nesta laughed as Lucien gently brought a hand to turn her face back towards him.

“Next time, send me to Feyre.” he said, scrunching his nose with a small laugh and Elain sighed, then shrugged sheepishly.

“Too late now.” 

Lucien licked his lips and dipped his head, a soft laugh escaping him. He took a look at the lights, the flowers, and then the people sharing this happy moment with them. His eyes drifted back to Elain’s beautiful face and he brought a hand to his own pocket, finally pulled out the ring he had held on to for months.

“You stole my thunder, dove.” he said and opened his small box. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment.”

Elain’s expression softened as her eyes drifted to the ring then back up at him. “Every moment is the perfect moment with you, my love.” she said, and Lucien’s own face softened.

“I had so many plans.” he whispered. “I wanted to give you the perfect proposal.”

But Elain shook her with a smile. “I knew you were trying to do something like this but... I wanted to plan this for you. I wanted to make this moment unforgettable because you’re my love, my mate, and the only partner I want to have.” she said, and Lucien shuddered under her touch. “You deserve the most wonderful proposal because you’re the most wonderful person I’ve been blessed to meet. I want you to be wooed.”

“Elain —”

“I love you. I love you for everything that you are and all that you will be.” she whispered. “And I will love you until my final breath. You’ve given me a home, a life, and a love I only dreamed about. You make me bloom. You are my brightest sun and I want to spend the rest of my life with you so I didn’t want to wait anymore.” she said with flushed cheeks and a wide smile then slowly, dropped down to one knee, dress and all. “Will you marry me, Lucien Vanserra?”

Lucien grinned, dropping down to one knee as well. “Only if you’ll marry me too, Elain Archeron.”

“Disgusting.” came Nesta’s mumble.

“Fuck off, Nesta.” Lucien only said with a smile, his eyes only on his mate.

“Are you sure about this, Elain? It’s never too late to back out now.” 

“Fuck off, Eris.” was Elain’s response, grinning widely, her eyes only on her mate.

“Language.” tutted Rhys. “We have a child in attendance.” 

Unanimously and without dropping their gaze from each other, Elain and Lucien only said, “Fuck off, Rhys.”

“Now, now.” Lady Autumn chided, her own hand interlaced tightly in her mate’s and Helion’s glow as bright as the sun. “Answer the questions!”

Elain shot Lucien a coy smile and held out his ring to slide on his finger. “What do you say, mate? Are you willing to be my husband too?” she teased, and Lucien gave her a devilish grin.

“Only if you’re willing to be my wife too.” he replied with a wink.

“Then my answer is yes. A thousand times, yes.” she breathed, as he slid the pearl ring on her finger.

“And my answer will only ever be yes. Through a thousand lifetimes, you will always be a yes.”  

“Good because when we leave here, I’m going to do so many naughty things I’ve wanted to do with my husband.” she whispered.

“Then it’s great you’re going to be my wife because I definitely have so many naughty things I would only do with my wife.” he whispered right back. 

With a giddy giggle, Elain leaned in, cupping Lucien’s face, and kissed him fiercely as Lucien pulled her into his arms and stood. Elain’s right leg curled up as they deepened the kiss, cheers erupting behind them, but Lucien only dipped her back, making up for the moments they’d been apart.

“Son, save some for the private room I reserved for you.” Helion called out with a snort. “Let us celebrate!”

Finally pulling away, Lucien grinned down at his mate, his love, and soon-to-be wife. “I’m going to give you the wedding of your dreams, miss. No stealing the show this time.”

Elain’s head tilted back as she laughed. “What if I want to give you the wedding of your dreams?”

“It will be as long as you’re the bride.” 

“Enough with the romance!” hollered Cassian. “I want to eat!”

Lucien scowled, his head snapping to where Cassian stood patting his stomach obnoxiously but before Lucien could smite him, Feyre stepped into view with a grin.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for years!” she said. “I want the first hug!”

And so, the story of the Fox and the Fawn started a new chapter, full of light, love, and much more happiness to come. 

[nobleclover]

OK, so you know all those princesses from Rayman Legends, including Barbara? Here's my headcanons.

Barbara and Elysia were twins and lived together with their parents for the first two years of their lives. They got separated because their father couldn't stop being a cheap-ass colonial bastard who liked making shit worse for the serfs and servants. Barbara and Elysia's mother (who was more progressive and only married their father as per an arranged marriage) was forced to only take one toddler and raised her to be a rebel fighter until her death. Barbara never knew Elysia was her sister until they met up as young adults in battle.

Aurora and Twila are three years apart and hail from a kingdom populated by bean plants. They constantly quarrel over what way is the best way to rule their kingdom, which only serves to piss off their loyal subjects. When a toad army invades their kingdom, they fight with each other over how to get rid of them. Aurora simply wants to intimidate them into leaving, while Twila wants to use fire against them. (She's a pyromaniac, OK?)

Estelia and Selena are princesses who are in charge of taking care of the souls of the dead. Estelia manages the innocent souls, while Selena takes care of the evil ones. Selena feels jealous of her twin since she is depressed from seeing so much evil in the world and eventually...disappears. Estelia was under the impression of Selena being chill with her line of work until learning about her sister running away. She constantly sends out guardians to find Selena but hasn't had any luck so far. Meanwhile, Selena unfortunately falls under the influence of Mr Dark...

Ursula and Emma are a couple of tech-savvy princesses who have to deal with an army of underwater toads that are trying to kill them. Both sisters seek a device that creates portals to different worlds, and they want to throw the toads through such a portal. (But they haven't considered the possibility of the toads becoming a danger to other people, lol) Anyways, Emma gets separated from Ursula on a mission through a labyrinth, leading to her older sister to think she died. She is working hard on defeating the toads and avenging her (not so) dead sister.

Olympia and Sibylla are two princesses who are descended from Athena, goddess of wisdom. The two of them defend Olympus from attacks by demons and still stick by each other no matter what. Sibylla is too curious for her own good and often goes monster hunting (namely the Minotaur), leading to Olympia to go out and drag her arse home before she gets killed.

So yeah, here's the backstories I made up for the main line of princesses from Rayman Legends. I know that there are MORE, but I can't be arsed to go through them. Also, in my headcanon, each set of sisters isn't related, i.e., Barbara and Elysia aren't related to A+T, E+S, etc. Asafjdhvzd

[womgi]

Naruto is weird in many ways. Especially in terms of worldbuilding. speaking as someone who was into fanfiction from the 2000s, there was so much that changed in the elements of Naruto that people writing fanfiction were constantly having to change their frameworks, or have to put the rather ignoble looking tag of "non canon compliant" at some point. I have sat through so many author notes talking about "the manga/anime did this, so as of volume/chapter, my story is officially an AU". And there was a lot of it. And that's not talking about the shitload of retconning that Kishimoto just loves. Story stuck? Retcon. Need to escalate? Retcon. Anything at all? Retcon.

Remember when the Kyuubi was a demon? As in a full blown mythological demon rather than what it ended up as? Fanfiction went all in on playing with mythology. The whole Inari business, the Fox summoning contracts, the constant and surprisingly persistent use of "kit" as the pronoun of choice from inmate to warden...all of that was fairly ubiquitous. And back then naruto fanfics were much more imaginative too. The worst villain was Orochimaru, that terrifying amoral mad scientist who was willing to let the world burn for his immortality. He got nerfed.

Or Naruto's father? We all thought he was some guy named Arashi, because of that one panel with the name Arashi Kazama in the Toad summoning scroll. The Fourth Hokage was called that name for a long time, enough to have tons of fanfiction about it at a time when naruto being the Fourth Hokage's son was just a fan theory.

I will always find the idea that we all "knew" Tobi was Obito long before the official announcement funny.

The early speculation about what the other villages were like were rather interesting as well. I mean, consider what we learn about other villages from a manga release timeline. We hear about kiri through Zabuza and his posse. Kirigakure became this villainous, murderous place. We see Suna through the chuunin exams and they're basically this weak village which get owned. Hell, their Kage gets taken out by a random missing nin and they don't even realize! Grass is represented by a team that basically exists to give Orochimaru fleshsuits to infiltrate the Chunin exams with. Ame, they're assholes - like, Hanzo probably hadn't even been conceptualized as a character yet, so they are at this point one-dimensional assholes who exist to get beaten up by the Konoha troupe. We learn about Kumo through Neji's tragic backstory. And we learn that Kumo is a bunch of backstabbing honorless villains. And this shaped how the fans saw the other villages.

Like take Kumo. By the end, Kumo was basically Ninja USA. Militarized, aggressive, and expansionist. Outside of that they also had a lot of Black people, which is an interesting choice for a japanese ninja universe, if a welcome one. That kumo did not exist when Neji's backstory was being belted out to all and sundry. That was a much later invention when Kishimoto got baked(or whatever he does when he gets writers block). Yet, by the end, they seem to be Kishimoto's go to for ninja awesome. Oh, the other villages have badass characters? Hey, look at Kumo! They have lasers! and the stuff of original ninja Jesus! That do cool shit! and their leader is so badass he cuts off his hand without looking at explosions! Lots of Kumo wank in the fanfiction. Or maybe it's just where my searches led.

Or take Oto, sound village. I remember a time when Sound village being a Konoha copy because of Orochimaru being a Konoha missing nin was a thing. They had the whole village with tower in the middle and everything. Sadly, canon has forever robbed us of the classic scene of Orochimaru drowning under paperwork. Why Kishimoto why?

And remember when Itachi was a terrifying villain instead of a tragic hero? I remember reading fics that made Itachi a terrifying force of nature, a sadistic mofo that made satan look like a putz. And then Kishimoto was like "nah" and everyone was suddenly "I heart Itachi! UwU!" or something.

Akatsuki as a whole has gone through a wild ride. When Itachi showed up, there was so much speculation about what they were gonna use the jinchuuriki for. Tailed beast WMDs were fun reads, if terrifying to imagine. Zetsu was a grass nin. Deidara ended up Naruto's brother in so many fics. So many fics that are now forgotten because Akatsuki got a canon backstory.

It's kind of funny how the further we went along the Naruto timeline, the more restrictive fanfiction became. We all became collectively chained by canon. Plots became more streamlined, and frankly dull. The imagination just disappeared. It felt like every second fic was basically "Naruto has a bloodline" and after some very energetic academy time and wave mission the story disappears into the abyss of dead fanfics. I'm just saying, if fanfics rose up from the grave, kancolle style, because of grudges against their authors, we'd have a shitload of underdeveloped Narutos with all sorts of weird bloodlines.

Hell, until Dreaming of Sunshine came along, Self Inserts were just about done. Imagine that for a second. That the most self indulgent type of fanfiction ever, the one everyone at least imagines writing, was an endangered species! And DoS was one of the more canon restricted fics ever, carefully plotting out canon while having long introspective monologues. It was a wild time.

The crossovers and smut are a different topic entirely. I've not forgotten those, but not really something a random Tumblr post can touch reasonably well.

We have Boruto now, love it or hate it. And personally I hate it, though I don't begrudge those who don't. My personal issues stem from how they did the original characters dirty. In a Doylist sense, I understand why, considering that if the older generation was the terrifyingly competent bunch they had become, then Boruto would by necessity end up as slice of life with chakra. But the way they completely twisted their characterisation was just sad. That scene where those rookie nine jump in like chumps and get stomped in between frames? Who wrote that shit? And why?

And worst of all, Shino has a toaster of all things for a mask!

In the OG naruto series, the older generation then was shown as impressive people of their own. There was respect there. Anyone remember the Allied Moms? The younger generation had come up to the fore because they had grown into splendid shinobi, children who had grown to surpass their parents, not because their parents had become nerfed. Why does Boruto need to make the characters we love incompetent to make the new generation look better? But I digress

Naruto now is a different beast. It's had time to settle in, mature as a series. The sequel has made things different, but the fanfiction still exists online, showing a side of the fandom that saw it evolve. In the forgotten depths of the interweb are splendid stories of the past, prose written by dedicated and talented fans who crafted amazing tales. Who remembers those days? Who remembers those fics? Do we? Do their authors?

I'll still read Naruto fanfiction. It's a good chunk of my life I've invested there. Call it sunk cost fallacy if you must. But some part of me misses a different era, when Naruto was the frontier, and everyday was a new fanfic, a new adventure.

[javertafterdark]

Sending the datables a love song (+bonus Luke overhearing)

Hi this is my first time writing one of these, please let me know if you enjoyed it! Brothers version here

GN!mc, singer!mc, sfw, mostly fluff, some silly at the end

Everyone knew singing was one of your favorite hobbies. You even had your room soundproofed so you could practice without bothering anyone - not that you were a bad singer, just who really wants to hear thirty minutes of lip trills and “red leather yellow leather”? One day when you have some free time, you’re going through your sheet music to find a new song to work on. One in particular speaks to you, a love song that perfectly describes how you feel about your special someone. You decide to record your own version of the song. You only had your DDD mic to record with, and a free karaoke version of the accompaniment you found online, but it would have to do. Once you’re satisfied with the final product, you send the file to your sweetheart, saying to listen when they have a free moment.

Diavolo-

It was a good thing Diavolo had silenced his DDD before having an audience with a few of the Devildom’s nobles; he might have played the audio file for all of them to hear just because it was from you. He saw your message once he returned to his office and pulled it up immediately. Surely whatever work he had could wait just a few minutes? 

Oh he absolutely had the biggest grin on his face as he listened to you sing. Even if you sounded like a dying toad, he would have loved it all the same. It was such a bold and risky gesture, sending someone a song you recorded yourself, especially when you sang with such raw honesty. You trusted him enough to put yourself in such a vulnerable situation, even if you were far away and this was already recorded. The flaws of the recording itself just added to the charm. He loved it so much he thought he might explode right there. After the song ended, he sent you his reply.

I apologize, I was in a meeting when I received this. But I must say…

And then he proceeded to send every sticker of excitement and approval multiple times.

I can’t even begin to express how I feel properly over text. Will you join me as soon as you can?

Barbatos-

Barbatos was in the middle of preparing dinner when he got your message. Unfortunately, this step required a lot of focus and he had to ignore his DDD for a few minutes. He grew antsy as he worked. The moment he got to a stopping point, he wiped off his hands and grabbed his device. An audio file from you? How curious. He could give it a quick listen as he continued his cooking.

As your beautiful voice filled the kitchen, he found himself so charmed. You had such a lovely sound, and of course the song itself was so sweet. Those simple words brought a smile to his face and an indescribable feeling, but it was pleasant. He felt like an ingenue in a film being wooed for the very first time; who would have known you could have brought out those feelings in such an ancient demon? The song ended just as he brought out the seasoning and- oh, he grabbed your favorite seasoning and not the one the meal called for. Chuckling to himself, he exchanged that bottle for the proper one. He played your song on repeat until he finished dinner, and each time it played those feelings only grew. Just before bringing the plates out, he sent his reply.

Are you trying to distract me from my duties with your siren’s song? If so, I fear I must admit that it’s working.

Solomon-

Solomon was working on a new potion, though his progress felt more like a fly trying to break down an iron door. Setting aside another failed attempt, he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples. The ding from his DDD broke the loop of trial and failure that he found himself trapped in. After seeing your name, he pulled up the message, grateful to have the brief distraction. Curious about the audio file you sent, he quickly pressed play. At the same time, he noticed the untouched, sad, and lonely sandwich that Simeon had left for him. Upon realizing how hungry he was, Solomon grabbed one of the halves and ate as he listened.

A smile spread across his face. You sent him a love song you performed yourself? How absolutely precious. Alone in his room, he let himself melt completely. How long had it been since anyone so thoroughly disarmed him? You had so much power over him, and you didn’t even know it. As the last notes faded away, he realized he didn’t want the song to ever end. An idea struck. After rooting through his supplies, he found an inert crystal ball, one that fit in the palm of his hand. He brought it back to his desk and set it beside his DDD. With a quick spell, he played the song again. The crystal burst into various colors and patterns in time with the music. At any time, he could replay the song with the accompanying light show. With the spell complete, he sent his reply.

You should come over, I have something to show you.

Simeon-

You caught Simeon just as he was doing his wrist stretches after a lengthy writing session. Just the sight of your name on the screen made him smile. He pulled up the message and tilted his head at the contents. So you sent him a recording or something? Okay, he could probably get it to play if he just tapped here. His face fell and heart sank as the file disappeared before his eyes. Before a cold sweat could break out, he sent back a reply.

I’m sorry I think I may have deleted it! If you could send it again I would appreciate that very munch!

He feared he might ruin things more if he tried to correct his spelling mistake. A few moments later, another message from you popped up with another copy of the file.

It’s okay! Just press the little sideways triangle to play it

He pressed the sideways triangle and immediately set the DDD down so he didn’t ruin anything else. The moment he heard your voice, the stress from his technological incompetence melted away. He’d heard his fair share of beautiful voices, but yours hit differently. Even through the slightly crackled recording, it felt like you were in the room serenading him. He put his hands over his chest as if that would keep his heart from soaring away. What had he done to deserve someone like you singing such sweet words to him? Did he really inspire such strong feelings in you? Did you really love him as much as he loved you? The song ended and he sat basking in the moment. After taking a deep breath, he finally replied.

Oh my, I always thought you were my muse, but perhaps it’s the other way around as well. Could you meet me for a picnic dinner in an hour? I would like to hear you sing in person.

Bonus: Luke-

Solomon was due for another sandwich, and Luke decided to bring a freshly baked cupcake with it. As he approached the sorcerer’s door, he heard a faint music coming from inside. Still, he knocked.

“Solomon, I assume you’re not joining us for dinner so I brought you something,” he called. “That other sandwich better be gone or I’m gonna be mad!”

A chuckle drifted through the door. “Come in!” Luke opened the door and entered, and he was greeted by Solomon’s smile as he traded the new plate for the empty one. “I really appreciate it, Luke. Thank you.”

“Well I can’t have you wasting away under my watch,” he said with a shake of his head. “Also, I tried something new with the cupcakes so you better tell me how you like it.” In the pause between them, Luke focused on the music. It sounded like a cheaply recorded song with a stock accompaniment, but the voice singing was beautiful. And familiar? “Solomon, what are you listening to?”

“Oh, this.” He set the plate down and picked up a small crystal ball that displayed bright colors and patterns in tune with the music. “MC sent me a song, and I thought it would be nice to have a visual beside it.”

“MC?!” Luke’s eyes widened and he shifted on his feet as he listened again. “Wow, they sound really good!” He felt his face turn red. “Do you think they would ever sing a song with me?”

Solomon chuckled. “I’m sure they would if you asked.”

The angel couldn’t help but grin at the thought. “Alright, well… don’t overwork yourself, okay?” Before Solomon could reply, Luke left to go find his DDD.

Secret bonus: The Newcomers (not serious because I don’t have too much of a grasp on them yet)

Thirteen tells you she appreciates the ballsy move but it’s a bit too cringe on main.

Raphael just replies with “Thanks.”

Mephistopheles doesn’t reply, but there’s a scathing review of your performance in the RAD newspaper the next day.

[powderrblue]

tw everything i talk about horrible fucked up things

also toad. if you see this hi. sorry my bad it was the demons

Paislie usually didn't fear death.

More like she tried not to think about it anymore. Anytime she would sit on the floor of the makeshift garage inside the mall, inhaler kicked out of her reach so she wouldn't be tempted to get up and use it, there was a little part of her that was scared it would kill her. Not that it was likely. At most, it would make her pass out, and maybe it did damage, but it rarely killed her.

Still, every day she lived was a day hundreds of babies died because the machines she fucking designed were never enough. There was always a medical condition, always something technology couldn't fix or regenerate.

Paislie knew that firsthand- but watching it happen to babies tore her soul apart. Knowing any one of them could be one of her siblings and she would never know.

So she'd joined pacts. She ignored her inhaler, fought anyone who would try to force her to just use it and breathe.

As terrifying as it was, each time she died and got resurrected was more damage to lungs that would never heal properly.

It was for the better, she had convinced herself.

That was until she met Cade.

Cade had been an actor in rougher shows than past kids her age. Granted, Showfall didn't have many child actors who survived more than a few weeks old unless they were brought in from outside.

The young girl had made Paislie want to die a little bit less sometimes.

It started with casual conversation, then sneaking extra snacks to the girl when Paislie didn't want them, then telling each other stories and Paislie singing snippets of songs she'd learned before bedtime.

One night after a particularly nasty accident during filming, Paislie had built what you could barely call a blanket fort over the girl's bed and carried her to it. To her credit, she'd tried to make the fort at least decent for when Cade woke up.

Paislie sighed as she mulled over the fact that every time Cade got reset or resurrected, she couldn't help but pray to whatever was out there, Showfall even, that Cade would come back right. The process hurt like hell, but as long as there were no complications, the younger still had a good chance to leave someday.

More than Paislie did, at any rate.

The seventeen-year-old had pushed those thoughts aside as she laid Arcadia on the twin size bed, brushing loose strands of hair away from the girl's closed eyes.

Just as soon as one heart-wrenching thought was shoved away, Paislie suddenly wondered if her little sister would be anything like Cade. If her sister were even still alive. She would've been a couple years younger than Cade by now, she mused as burning tears built up behind her eyes.

She couldn't help but remember how she'd always held her four-year-old brother just like how she held Cade now. How she carried him to bed on rough nights just like Cade.

Standing to pull up a chair beside Cade's bed, she pulled her hairtie out and wiped her eyes.

Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow she'd worry about it all, tomorrow she'd stay with Cade.

Tomorrow she'd stay away from the pact.

It was the least she could do now.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Monsters

People think it's difficult, to steal away another person's life - but it isn't. You can do it without fangs, without claws, without the taint of corruption in your blood. You can do it without trying. You don't have to be a demon to leave your sister home alone, to head out with your friends instead. It doesn't take a monster to be selfish for one night, when you promised you'd look after her. It only makes you one, when the worst inevitably comes to pass.

Sometimes it's easier to steal the life you hadn't meant to take. I hadn't meant for Eloise to die, and yet here she wasn't. I'd gone into the woods to kill myself, and yet here I was, standing in her place. It was supposed to be a sure thing: the forest was where we all went to die, full of wild beasts and unnamed terrors that would finish the job for you, if you couldn't bring yourself to tie the noose. But it had only spat me out again, a wild beast myself: an exterior to match the loathsome shadows within.

I think I had died, somewhere along the way, but it hadn't stuck. I was as retched as any regurgitated thing, like the beetles with so foul a taste they compel even a slimy toad to cough them back out. I was marked, tainted, but then I already had been. The corruption of my flesh was nothing to the poison in my heart. I was brought back wrong, yes - but I was wrong going in.

There were a few of us, but none who knew why. Something about the act of suicide, perhaps: a tormenting of the soul, so great a tragedy to warp the body that housed it. Or perhaps the forest truly was a place of nightmares, guaranteeing the death of any who sought to enter it and live: and for we who wished to die, it bestowed immortality.

The townspeople certainly didn't understand. They saw us as feral, fiends, not knowing we had once walked amongst them. But they hadn't recognised us then, either: if they had, our sins might have been prevented. They had overlooked our guilty futures, and now they failed to see the mortal innocence of our past. But that suited us fine: for we were exiles of our own choice, resigned to a lot which we had brought upon ourselves. They hunted us as monsters, but there was nothing to contest. We had been monsters from the start.

[buckybarnestales]

Devotion

As Bucky engaged his approach through a sea of a rich socialites-the prissy upper class of the fashion industry, he eluded any contact with the elegantly clad raven, blond and copper-haired dames ogling his masculine dominance, he wore a sharp cut Armani tailored suit -midnight black, giving him a dangerous aura. His dark wolfish mane of chestnut was slicked back with bladed tresses fanned over the broad width of his flesh and metallic shoulders; everything about his devastatingly handsome chiseled visage carried the air of suave menace and roguish allure, the suit literally showcased the solid thickness of his sculpted torso, sleek curves of his slender hips and curved edges of his biceps. He was armed for the kill, slicing through the crowd in methodical and evading stride,

He was armed for the kill, slicing through the crowd in methodical and evading stride as his powerhouse body flowed gracefully with the dissonance of the music, just like when he trained in the Red Room, obeying the sharp tempo of the piano and twirling orphan ballerinas effortlessly on stage. He knew how to glide with each rhythm, and wield precision with his footing-tonight he felt the unquenchable urge to dance with his best girl-the love of his life; Selina Kyle, an untouchable and graceful beauty who mastered the elements of darkness, and left him breathless each time he stared into her ardent coffee irises.

Sometimes, he wondered if she was a spellbinding and ethereal goddess in mortal flesh-he still couldn’t fathom why she loved him, a damaged-butchered soul who had been unmade into a stone cold instrument of death. He deserved nothing for the sins that shadowed his reflection, but Selina gave him a chance to embrace the light freedom; to become a new man and he loved her for that. Stuffing his gloved hands into the pockets of his trousers, he bit on the swell of his bottom lip, feeling out of depth and lost in a haze of confusion.“Okay, Barnes, you gotta show her the ropes tonight, no backing down…”

Grumbling under his breath, Bucky halted in his wavering steps in the center, the intensity of his frosted steel-blue eyes scanned determinedly over the lavish dresses and cloth tables displaying polished trays of diced exotic fruit and various desserts that had the Paris flare, the scents of fudge and strawberry became intoxicating as he seized a rounded cocoa ball of sprinkled coconut and quickly stuffed it into his mouth, to ease the inrush of anxiety mounting through his heated veins. The flavor was sweet and infused with chocolate; fueling the ravenous influx of questing hunger. His left gloved hand grabbed another dessert off a tray, not realizing that the strawberry pastry resembled a shape of a pig. He took a sampling bite, tasting an explosion of rich jelly and sugar. His senses were blitzed with the infusion of flavor. “Hey, this stuff is pretty damn good…”

“You should try the chocolate toads, I hear they are simply to die for.” Bucky’s moment of intoxicating indulgence was disturbed by the slithering chill of a familiar German accent creeping up on him. The former Winter Soldier froze up, mid-bite on his second serving of strawberry cheesecake. A coldness enveloped him brought about by a gust of memories, which in turn were triggered by a conniving voice that was both sickly soft and sagacious. A cold metal table, a darkened room, merciless needles, blinding lights, and withering face of a middle-aged scientist with cold eyes behind thick glasses. “Of course, I would say the same of all the delicacies here that appeal to my sweet-tooth.”

It couldn’t be….

A dark look crosses Bucky’s once relaxed features. He sets his plate down and turns, metallic hand balled into a fist at his side, only to come to a puzzling halt as he takes in the man in front of him. Garbed in a plain black tuxedo, the short and stocky man before him was the striking visage of a demon of his tormented past. “Zola…” Bucky nearly hisses out, though his brow was pinched with disbelief. “You’re dead. You can’t be here.” The man in front of him appeared genuinely confused by Bucky’s somewhat hostile approach along with the name he addressed him by.

“Zola? I beg your pardon, but my name is Ziegler. Professor Albert Ziegler of Anthropology. Good to make your acquaintance, Herr…” The man in front of him wore no glasses, spoke with the same accent and professionalism as the man that made Bucky’s life a living hell for over a decade, but something about him was entirely off. His demeanor and approach was savvy but also benign as you’d expect from a complete stranger. And yet, Bucky couldn’t quash the feeling of unease he felt in this man’s presence.

“Is this some kinda of a sick game?” Bucky clenches his teeth from behind his lips. The lingering taste of strawberry and chocolate on his tongue was somewhat distracting, making him feel as if he were being carried away on a train while he struggled to remain focused on the man in front of him. “I don’t know how you’re here, or what the hell you want. But stay away from me, or I’ll use this to rip your throat out,” Bucky makes a show of flexing his metallic digits before the befuddled and now somewhat stricken guest who went by the name Dr. Ziegler.

Feeling the ominous presence of a dark storm waging through the ballroom; Selina wasted not a second to glide between the crowd, as her dark coffee irises settled intently at dessert tables where Bucky stood clenching in his metallic fist at his side. Behind webbed dark tresses hanging over his razor-edged cheeks, his steel-blue eyes gleamed fiercely in restrained contempt, evident to the hardened clench of his stubbled jaw; he looked like a caged wolf, snarling to deliver a lethal strike at his unknown tormentor. She didn’t need the Winter Soldier to become unleashed, not when the stink of HYDRA slithered in the shadows.

“Bucky, cool it down,” Selina beckoned him, her sultry tone edged with a hostile flare as her dark eyes glared intently at the elderly professor standing behind the dessert table, with a smug look tampering his wrinkled features. Right there, she felt the murderous command of instinct to pull out her Glock that was strapped along the curve of her low back, concealed by the rich black velvet of her dress molding over the lithesome and curvaceous lines of her svelte body - low cut to reveal the exquisite swell of her pale breasts and the graceful length of her bare neck.

Her evening attire for the gala was practical and lethally effective to engage the dance floor while radiating an elegant illusion of a modern aged Roman empress; Selina was a sleek feline unbound, dominating the flickers of shadow as her cool alabaster skin glowed against the softness of candlelight. Her silken long mahogany locks cascaded effortlessly off her back, as she engaged the stout framed stranger who had fallen into the crosshairs of the Winter Soldier.

She needed to obstruct the impulses of his savagery, distract Bucky from making a scene when his baleful temperament became a harmful force to contend against. With a brazen move, she seized his hand firmly, entwining her lithe fingers with his cool chrome digits under the motorcycle glow. “C'mon handsome, let’s show these rich stiffs how a kid from Brooklyn dances…” she implored in a whisper, hotly.

Though he was still severely distracted by the appearance of the man who bore a striking resemblance to the one who turned him into a killing machine, Bucky allowed himself to be swept away by Selina’s guiding hand. His steel-blue eyes glared threateningly at the supposed professor who matched his glower with a tight-smile that bore no signs of fear. Zola or not, Bucky knew something was off. Releasing a shaky sigh, Bucky registers Selina’s tempting offer and feels his anxiety begin to melt away into something more lax. Truly, he needed to let loose tonight and enjoy himself. Dancing with the most beautiful woman in the world seemed like the best way of doing that.

“Let’s give em a show, Miss Kyle.” He quips with a playful gleam in his eyes with a smile to match. His wolfish gaze moves over Selina, drinking in her elegant and sexy visage as she guides him towards the dance floor. The orchestra began to play a more upbeat, fast-paced waltz. Elegant and invigorating. Electricity sizzled between Bucky and Selina’s eyes, their fingers joining as each of them drifted into a familiar cadence that they practiced with each other for many years. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Careful handsome, I might enjoy this dance,” Selina purred with effortless snark, as he guided with fluid grace towards the center of the crowded floor, his cybertronic arm deftly braced over the fine curve of her lower back, metallic coolness penetrated through her skin, with painstaking voltaic pulses that recharged a fever in her veins. Lightning flashed against the interlude of a storm. The intensity was mounting, as gravity between them was defying limits of how long they could restrain the untamed influx of hunger.

Following the sharp tunefulness of harmony and a thump of percussion, Selina’s dainty hand strayed up to the width of his broad shoulder, curving just below his thick nape, and her fingers swept under his wolfish mane, until she adjoined with him in a perfect stance. The swell of her ample breasts pressed softly against the hard planes of muscle compacted over his sculpted torso; she inhaled the intoxicating, masculine scent of frosted mint, vanilla, and sandalwood wafted off him; blitzing her aroused senses to engage. “Just focus on me, James…” she implored gently, swaying her sleek–lithesome body against the subtle flows of equal balance, urging him to lead her.

Bucky said nothing, the need for words suddenly feeling trivial in the ambiance that was created by the inspiring music that surrounded them, and the flow of their graceful movements. Selina’s soothing words had somehow managed to smooth the coils of anxiety he felt. Thoughts of the stocky German professor had begun to evaporate as he was suddenly immersed in the flow of their waltz. The corner of his lips curved into something resembling a dangerous smirk, and he eagerly followed her instruction and took control of their dance.

Though his spirit was not as lively as the young man from Brooklyn in the 1930s, his body hadn’t forgotten the memories that were sewn into his muscles. Selina’s hands were held securely in his own, not too hard or too soft, but their joined contact was enough that she felt like an extension of himself, his other half. He guides her in close, left foot back, right foot forward, their sway and turns of their bodies were smooth as silk and enchanting as poetry in motion. Feeling bold, he twirls her suddenly, watching with wolfish delight as she expertly twirls on the tip of her toes like a ballerina, before guiding her back into his arms. “I love it when you do that,” he nearly murmurs hotly against her ear.

Feeling the cool minty caress of his enticing breath ghost along the curve of her jaw, as she effortlessly relaunched her grace against the solid expanse of his torso, Selina fell into a euphoric harmony. The rhythmic heat of their adjoined bodies thrilled her senses; numbing her bones when the metallic touch of his robotic-chrome hand traced an electrifying pulse deftly against the bare milky-white softness of her skin, purring silently for an infinite release of her caged soul, she tilted her head back with a slow arch of her back as tousled cascades of mahogany languidly flowed off his shoulder; purposely displaying the elegant lines of her pale neck to his tamed masculine hunger. 

Selina almost looked forbiddenly wicked in the intermixed contrasts of shadow and halos of light, betraying her cool poise to challenge his melting restraint.  She detected the war raging within him, the blaze of fueling determination to undo control and ravage soul- needing passion through her captured body. Smirking coyly, she curved her neck, cushioning her lips with liquefied heat dangerously over the stubble bristle of his throat. “You know we can take this floor, easy, really knock their rich asses off…Just like in Russia, soldier boy.”

Bucky was distinctly aware that around them, several of the dancing couples had cleared the floor and formed a circle with the rest of the guests as they watch he and Selina with awe. “You read my mind, darlin’,” Bucky’s smile grew wide, making him appear younger and more vivacious in the thrum of their waltz. There as a dangerous level of excitement in the air that came with the prospect of being the center of everyone attention with the most beautiful woman in attendance. So he pulled Selina closer until she twirls balletically into the opened embrace his arms with her back pressed against his chest. “Think you can keep up?” He dares with a touch of mischievousness, knowing how much Selina loved a challenge.

“Do I detect a dare, James Barnes,” Selina coyly purred, her tone held a smoky edge, as the fullness of her lavish crimson lips curved beautifully into a jovial smirk, her coffee irises flashed with a blaze of heat, beckoning the untamed beast inside him to devour her in second she temptingly arced the swell of her breasts over the thickness of his broad chest, muscles flexed at the ignited breach of their natural contact. Following accord to the sensual rhythm of their bodies, her lithe fingers traced possessively over his concealed metallic plates of his left arm as his hand deftly gripped the smooth black velvet of her dress; catching a glimpse of him boyishly gnawing on his bottom lip. She wrinkled her nose, just watching him master perfectly in parallel cadence with her poised steps of graceful sync. They fluidly balanced visceral power and elegance with every twirl, becoming sharp as cool blades, cutting through vestiges shadow, as their adjoined bodies mirrored each sway–heated and tangible pulse of precision and rhymic flow that made them appear invincible on the ballroom floor.

“Only an invitation,” he returned breathlessly, guiding Selina towards him after a vibrant twirl across the dance floor. Their movements were as fluid as flowing water with the force of stallions. The guests watched cooed and awed as the waltz neared its end. Bucky catches Selina into his arms, his hands cradling her exposed flesh firmly as he uses her momentum to dip her back. Her hair spills back like a cascading waterfall of mahogany, shimmering in the chandelier lights above. Their gazes snapped to each other’s with the intensity of an electricity not nearly as potent as the intoxicating allure. “You haven’t missed a step, Miss Kyle. Do I have your number?” he coaxed, the warmth of his breath hovering above her slightly parted lips, waiting for his invitation to be accepted.

Staring into the devious, heated shimmer of his leveled steel-blue eyes, Selina felt her dominance ousting as he captured her within that lightning storm of intensity, the feverish clamor of blood reached uncontainable levels, the minty coolness of his breath graced her skin with languid gusts, as she felt the intimate proximity of his soft lips edging with temperate desire; a hushed thrill possessed her veins, she tilted her neck back, exposing the lines and curves of her throat, coaxing him with a low, throated purr, as her crimson lips opened freely for him to steal a kiss. “Don’t be shy,” she beguiled smoothly, with a hint of darkness chasing her sultry tone. “I heard you really cut into’s girl’s heart, soldier boy…”

Not needing any further incentive, Bucky closed the gap between them and planted his lips against hers in a warm heady exchange. The taste of both mint and strawberries on his lips brought sent a jolt of electricity through Bucky's skin, while the intoxicating scent of lavender made him feel as if he were soaring high. Their lips remain closed against each other, the noise of the approving crowd was deafened by the thumping of their pulses in their ears. Their lips continued to move slow, gentle yet still possessing great fervor in their affection and desire for one another. Instinctively, Bucky's cool hand of metal reaches up and gets lost in the sea of mahogany curls while his other hand holds her up against him. The action felt so natural to him, he couldn't help but release a soft sigh of contentment as her soft cool digits touch his cheek and their lips slowly begin to part. "How was that for a closer?" He whispers breathlessly, opening his clouded blue eyes to gaze down into hers with sparkling intensity.

"A pretty good damn one, Barnes, but we’re not finished dancing yet..." Selina purred hotly against the heaviness of his set jaw, feeling his Roman nose arrowing into the softness of her flushed cheek as the impactful heat of their moist lips opened mindlessly to the blissful unity of their souls igniting. They were masterful and lethal combatants of shadow; knowing how to effectively adapt to the elements surrounding them, but the depth of romance was just like hand-to-hand melee, competing forces of carnal heat and coolness mixed into a combustive--unrestrained ecstasy. This was a just showcase of kitty play, a facade of a glimpse to what they held back within their free domain. The Winter Soldier and the Cat were two immortal entities of tragic pasts; that would never be reckoned with, and each moment they shared without the masks and guns, it was rapturous to delve further into--but tonight Selina knew that causal restraint had to become required, even though she wanted to really exhibit what true passion was to the rich suck-ups.

Releasing a vexatious sigh, Selina glided her palms gently over his broad neck, fingers possessively caressing his lengthy bladed dark tresses as she felt the bristled prick of his stubble rasping against her skin at the inducing moment his wide, smooth lips rolled fluidly against hers with an ardent pace, arching into a quirky smirk for once he captured her lips fully into sweet, fervent surrender. Their bodies solidified into paralyzed stance of rhythm and dominance; falling into perfect balance as their deepened to a euphoric surge of unhurried passion. Little did they know that malignant phantom in the crowd would obstruct their love, pull them into the cruel gravity of an unspeakable nightmare that would soon consume their hearts.

The sudden end to the music being played by the orchestra, followed by the thunderous applause of the audience watching them was a sharp reminder for Bucky and Selina of the world surrounding them. Leisurely, he brings Selina up and she gracefully finds her footing in front of him. Their gazes remained locked as they stood with flushed cheeks and an unspoken appreciation for what turned out to be one helluva dance that turned every head in their direction. Bucky was never one for attention, even in his youth when he rivaled almost every good-looking boy at school. He was about as timid as Steve was in that regard, but Selina, she seemed to be used to drawing a crowd, and just as used to shrug them off with a slight shake of her head, with a bemused smile to match. "Guess we drew quite the crowd." He whispers with a jaunty snort doing his utmost to focus on Selina, and not the cold- chilling reminder of a stocky German scientist that resembled his most despised enemy. Just as suddenly, he felt as if the jovial spirit that came from the dance had taken a sullen turn. "Gotta say, this party is starting to get a little too crowded for my taste. Feel like takin' a break, darlin'?" He asks, Selina hopefully.

"Don't tell me that old man is getting tired," Selina snarked back coolly, meeting the stark intensity glinting in his steel-blue irises, hooded underneath tresses;  without missing a beat, she wiped her thumb with a dainty glide over the red smudge dabbed at the curvy edge of his kiss-swollen lips. Her dark eyes glimmered with devious flare, holding him into tangible submission, while he questioningly luminous glacial blue, unwavering daggers back at the elderly stranger looming near the dessert tables.

"I wonder how we can change that, handsome?" she coaxed with a naked dare, rubbing her stiletto heeled foot purposely against the rigid curves of his muscled calf, watching his eyebrows furrow into a taut pinch, evident to agitated pulse she undoubtedly identified thrumming in his unshakeable core. Maybe leaving the ballroom affair was a good idea after all. "Okay, we'll continue our dance elsewhere...Let's say your apartment's roof?" 

"Sounds like my kind of fun," Bucky says, as enthusiastic as he could manage despite the anxiety he felt at being in proximity to a face he found so dreadfully familiar. Seeing Zola's face and hearing that sickening soft voice of his brought back a maelstrom of dark memories, some of which he hadn't even remembered till just now. He'd had enough of this party and right now he wanted to put himself as far away from this place as possible. Years of fieldwork had ingrained into him a sense of foreboding that came upon a familiar sight, and right now, he felt as if there was something horrific on the horizon. "C'mon. Let's get going," he says eagerly, threading his fingers into Selina's, then begins to guide her away from the dance floor and towards the southern doors of the ballroom. He was grateful Selina fell into step beside him and didn't object to his somewhat desperate retreat. The crowd surrounding them begins to disperse to allow them through. But the retreating couple's progress is halted suddenly by the intruding figure of Professor Ziegler, heading them off with surprising speed, applauding them with loud claps though his expression bore no hint of warm approval. "Fine show, you both put on," Ziegler says with a dark voice that sounded nothing like the German-accented snake he was impersonating. "Mr. Barnes. Ms. Kyle." He says, a dark sneer on his lips. "There was a time I would've sought instruction as to entertain my own wife. Alas, the time for that passed long ago."

“Well, it’s been fun, Mr. Ziegler, but we’re leaving...” Selina deflected with a collective semblance of restraint, her full lips curved into a practiced smile while tracing her deft fingers tenderly over Bucky’s chrome knuckles at the second she felt his robotic hand morph into a clenching fist. She could see right through the old man’s untrusting exterior, a devoid of humanity reflected back, flares of vengeance seared like red bolts of lightning piercing through a stormy abyss. She felt an ominous chill frosting over her heart; his whole proximity reeked of deception, almost like an illusionist displaying a fictitious reflection. She brushed her lips faintly over Bucky’s stubbled jaw, whispering out an imploring and cool tone, breathily. “Let’s go, handsome.”

"Leaving so soon?" Ziegler feigns disappoint as Bucky and Selina proceed to walk around him, unwilling to indulge a conversation with him any further. Dark eyes watch with the sharpness of steel, and the intensity of a storm seeking to wreak havoc. Tension riled through as the couple moved away with expediency as though they were a pair of fleeing misfits trying to make haste before being discovered for a mischievous act. There was an air of foreboding as the ballroom distant to the suffocating fog of anticipation. Ziegler discards his smile which turns to a sneer directly at Bucky's back. "I must insist that you stay for awhile longer." He whispers ominously. With a clench of his raised fingers, Ziegler acts as puppet-master manipulating invisible strings. Bucky freezes, mid-step just as he and Selina neared the exit to the ballroom. A startled gasp flutters past his lips, his blue eyes are wide with confusion. "W-W-What, I can't move…" Bucky stutters, panic engulfing him as if his throat were being ensnared by an invisible noose that was tightening with every second, while at the same time, his limbs were still like glue.

By the conscious of feline instinct gripping through her veins, aware of the intrusive presence of unveiled evil, Selina arched her back tensely, her jeweled coffee irises keenly engaged the old professor's viperous stare; upon watching glints of reawakened pleasure merging into feverish vehemence of morbid indulgence. He somehow had immobilized her Bucky. Her thoughts steered with rapid pace, as she collectively shifted her gaze back at the dessert table. Her lips curved into a controlled grimace, stepping in front of her subdued lover, shielding him with a protective stance. "What the hell did you to do him?" she hissed fiercely.

Undaunted by Selina's show of defiance, Ziegler ignores her completely as he maintains his invisible grip on Bucky. A cold smirk forms across his lips, cruel and sadistic in the underlying intent. With a flick of his fist, he turns Bucky around as if he were a statue on a turntable. The sight was harrowing as well as confusing to a few of the guests as they catch wind of the small commotion. "Why, Mr. Barnes, you look hungry after that exhausting dance. Do indulge yourself further at the dessert table," Ziegler pulls Bucky, who struggles, away from Selina's side. The former assassin couldn't say anything, feeling as if his voice had been strangled until it vanished in a knot of discomfort. His legs were like a moving tram he couldn't step off or gain control of. He wanted to scream out his anger, to flail his fists at the stocky man across from him who smiled at him with dark amusement. "Z-Z-Zol…a…" He sneered, his gaze loathing as he passes him by. He bumps shoulders with guests in front of him who scold him.

Even though his will was upheld into a debased enchantment, Selina ardently transfixed her dark eyes towards the commanded destination; watching Bucky's defiant efforts struggling to fight with every vestige of resistance he stowed; his steps weren't methodical and exacting with lethal precision, he was being weighted with a sluggish pace. His steel-blue depths clouded with gluttonous fog, as his metallic hand strained involuntarily as clenching fingers plowed through a layer of whip cream and fudge, he bent his head down, grunting out seethes of frothing breath, but when the professor whispered latin, he fell into automatic stupor, lifting a handful of gooey chocolate and parted his shapely masculine lips, as the magic infecting his will held his mouth agape. He began to fall into a piggish nature, creating a messy that was utterly repellent for Selina to watch. "No..." She ghosted out a tenuous breath, feeling her steeled resolve fracturing. "Bucky..."

Selina's voice had become as distant to Bucky as a passing train. His thoughts were obscured by the intoxicating aroma wafting off the numerous delicacies that were in front of him, tempting him as though he were a man starving in the desert. He paid no thought or worry as he stuffs his mouth with large handfuls of cake and pudding. A myriad of tastes explode across his senses from chocolate to strawberry. But the aftertaste they left was as acrid as rotten eggs. It was delicious as it was vile. He possesses no control as he unconsciously begins to spit up his food, staining his mouth and the clothes he wears as it spills. "Hungry…" he pants through a large mouthful, before stuffing more cake into his mouth, the frosting now coating locks of his hair. "Quite the charming specimen we have here, don't we? Is it a man, or a rabid animal?!" Ziegler boasts to the crowd in a mocking tone to rile their reactions. The crowd was in a divided state of both amusement and disquiet as they watch the scene unfold. Those who were too embarrassed to watch, hide their faces in a distraction while those with less shame guffawed and made cruel jokes at the display of gluttony. Bucky could barely hear them beneath his loud chewing, but as the need for breath becomes too much, he stops his chewing and feels a pinch of pressure in his stomach. A groan comes through his lips as the pressure moves upward until it escapes in a loud belch that ignites a chorus of disgusted groans from the crowd. "There I believe is our answer!" Ziegler laughs, picking up a pastry muffin from the table and proceeds to stick it into Bucky's opened mouth. "Eat up, Mr. Barnes. Show them what a real pig looks like." 

 

No sooner than a second a later, a cold press of carbine steel dug noxiously into the wrinkling flesh of his frail neck, Selina was standing behind him, the graceful exterior of the elegant dove morphed into a uncaged, cunning feline, readying to slash her claws into the heart of the soulless monster who toyed with her lover. Fuming in rage, her lithe finger poised on the trigger of her loaded Glock that she removed from her heeled leather boot. The sloppy noises emanating from Bucky's stuffed throat overrode her emotions, as she struggled to content with restraint. Her lethal flare of murderous intent had compulsively ignited, and she wanted to see the professor's blood spray over the untouched cake he balanced on his age--spotted. "Leave him alone or I'll make you choke on that damn muffin," she warningly seethed, thrusting the gun's nozzle harder into his nape. "Your damn trick is over..."

The crowd begins to disperse in alarm at the sudden reveal of a concealed firearm brandished in their midst. The alarming spectacle had begun to escalate into something much more deadly and dire. Distressing yells and shouts blare throughout the ballroom, yet Ziegler adopts a smug and unintimidated posture, despite the barrel of a gun held against his neck. It was the look of a man who was much more beneath the surface of what he allowed to be seen. Unpredictable and deadly, he was as a serpent amused by the approach of an ant threatening him. Staring into Selina's eyes, he coolly responds, "Ms. Kyle, my fun has only just begun!" With a speed and strength betraying his form, Ziegler catches Selina's wrist and twists it with merciless intent until she releases a strangled cry and drops her weapon. "And you will not spoil it," his tone becomes darker, deeper with an ominous intent that sent a chill through the bodies of those who lingered to watch. Bucky continues to stuff himself, ignorant of the scene surrounding him and unable to stop himself from indulging. The professor leans slant-ways against the table beside him, narrowed eyes contemptuous as they watch. "You are truly a disgusting pig, James Barnes. However, I would not expect otherwise from one descended from your line." His cryptic words were like polished steel, no longer bearing a German accent, but something akin much older and vengeful. "Men hide their darkest sins beneath a false exterior of charm and duty. But the sins of the past do not go unforgotten to those that suffered their cruelty." With a gesture of his hand, Ziegler casts an aura of green energy over the desserts, even the one Bucky holds in his hand—defiling them with a curse of dark magic.

Controlling hitches of sob that ripped out of her throat, Selina reeled back, her fingers clutched over the bruised skin of her disjointed wrist. The pressure of throbbing bone created a nauseous wake, as she stumbled, losing her feline grace and collided onto the floor, her body cemented a kneeling position. She glared up at the mage, her coffee irises heated with subdued rage, before her focus steered back to Bucky. “James...” she mewled out a kittenish whisper, compelling herself to stare at the noxious green energy pulsating off the dessert tray, that was the moment, she realized the professor’s sickened game....He was thirsting to quench out his vengeance on Bucky. He was unquestionably a ghost from the past. Her dark eyes widened, and her heartbeat amped to a crescendo of pained desperation. “Stop eating, handsome...”

"He won't stop. Not until the ugliness within is brought out into the open," Ziegler gestures to the chilling sight of Bucky's listless hunger. His eyes were captivated on something unseen while chewing with a vacant look, unaware of the messy staining his face and clothes, just as well as Selina's desperate attempt to reach out to him. With each bite he swallows, there was a groaning shift in the outfit he wore. The baggy wrinkles faded as the garment of his coat became increasingly tight as if they had grown too small for him to wear. Ziegler, in his cold amusement, smiles toothily at the display. "Besides, I don't believe he wants to stop. Do you, my boy?" As if he were a collared animal, Bucky answers the call of his master with a tired shrug. "So hungry…" his tone is stuffed as well as weak, as if there was a true part of him inside crying out for help. His chewing slows to that of an exhausted heave, his face begins to turn a sickly shade of blue as if he were deprived of precious air. Ziegler watches, eye gleaming with anticipation as Bucky stumbles backwards until he slips and falls onto his back with a harsh noise. Once he collides, gas escapes him loudly into the room. The noise was like an alarm blaring through a graveyard, sparking numerous reactions from laughter to disgust among the guests in attendance. "Quite the repugnant creature you are," Ziegler mocks with a sarcastic chuckle. "S-S-Selina…" Bucky burps, spitting up a disgusting bile of cake and saliva from his mouth as he lays helplessly in front of her.

Listening to a resonance of unrestrained belching that erupted out of him, Selina remained unshakeable, despite the potent stench of rotten egg disgustingly seeping out of him. 

She didn't care about the revolting tidal wave of the smell; instead of engaging the wicked mage with a high crescent kick, Selina lowered down to Bucky's level, wincing as her injured wrist flared, she rested naturally on her side, motionlessly impassive facing him with vivid tears welling in her coffee depths. Against the fringes of chaos invading their world, her hand tentatively reached for him, as she delicately wiped off the remnants of chocolate pudding and bile off the plump swell of his lip with a tender caress of her thumb. She could feel his heat, thermal and ever constant as he panted heavily, his glacial steel-blue eyes mirroring with unshed tears, he was on the verge of crying--they both were.

"I don't know what this bastard planning to do with you, Buck..." She halted in a terse breath, swallowing down another choked sob, she wouldn't submit to the approach of infinite heartache as a vengeful blade tried to pierce her. "...but you can be damn sure that I won't let him take you from me."

Her words were like a cool rag soothing a scolding fever. Bucky unconsciously leaned into her touch, but found himself capable of little else as his body was assaulted by stretching aches and gassy hiccups. His clouded stare focused up at her, taking in each flawless detail to her teary expression, from the smoothness of her alabaster skin, to the deep red of her strawberry lips, and finally the swirl of affection in her coffee brown orbs. He wanted to reach up and touch her, but his body felt as if he were being weighed down by a ton of bricks. He couldn't fathom what had happened as suddenly as it had begun, but it was as though his very being was being remolded as if he were made of clay. "R-R-Run…" he tells her with a strangled voice, which garbled into a strangled pull. "It would appear vestiges remain. Good, I had hoped to finally discard this pathetic visage and meet my foe, face-to-face," Ziegler says while stepping away from the table. With methodical steps, the stocky professor stands in front of the downed couple with an imperious stance that gleamed of power and authority. The crowd, as well as Selina and Bucky, watch with anticipation as the image of Arnim Zola fades in a glow of green magic until he's replaced by that of an older man with cleanly cut white hair and beard. He appeared elderly, but his eyes and stance presented a strength that was powerful beyond his years. "Ah…much better."

Selina inwardly winced at the encroaching haughtily cadence of senescent formality, the wage of her mounting emotions began to evinced a heated, turbulent duel of lethal reserve that suffused her resolve. Her pert nose crinkled against the rancid ---yecch odor enveloping over Bucky's conquered body; it was a dominant aggregate of acidic bile, cake batter, and unctuous pig; erasing the intoxicating sandalwood and minty scent of his cologne. He smelt utterly horrid, and the repeated belching never ceased. His tongue arced disgustingly over his upper lip, gathering another a taste of pudding. Turning her neck, Selina glared vehemently at the conceited professor standing in front of them, feasting on Bucky’s misery, his merciless intent unchanged. Expelling a seethe of urgency, she demanded the vile purpose why he had targeted Bucky, she wouldn't tolerate this aging chameleon's deviating jest of devolving her lover. "Who the hell are you, and what have you done to him?" she gritted, furiously, her dark eyes radiating fire.

"Who am I? Young woman, I am the resurgence of a once mighty society that was both legend and myth; power and fruition in this world," the old mage says bitterly, despite his prideful words. He bore the look and posture of a man forced to conceal himself for a vast amount of time while the world around him moved on, oblivious and indifferent to the atrocities of the past. He bore the dialect of an old scholar, yet spoke with the condemning tone of a radical corrupted by immense power. His hardened eyes focused in on the sight of Bucky and Selina on the floor in front of him, measuring them with sagacious intent. "Until deluded minds saw fit to hunt my kind and exterminate them from this world." He points a finger in Bucky's direction, bearing the authority of an accuser finally allowed to seek justice after so long concealed in shadows. "Your bloodline, James Buchanan Barnes, a descendant of King Sebastian William Barnes I. You are to blame for why my kind are all but extinct from this world. The hour of your reckoning has finally come, and it is I, Dagon of Mercia, who will carry out your punishment!" Drawing a knife from his pocket, the old mage marches towards Bucky and draws blood from his hand.

“Damn you,” Selina hissed ferally, quickly ripping off a piece the hem of her dress, wrapping it over the bloodied slice gouged into Bucky’s right palm, before she exchanged a heated glare at the snow-white haired mage who gazed menacingly down at Bucky, murmuring a disguised incantation of delivering virulent energy to infuse within his veins, warmth began to recede was coldness penetrated through her disjointed wrist, subduing her to remain grounded at Bucky's side, as vapors of rank odor of a gluttonous pig assulted her nostrils. 

She felt inept of protecting him, the intrusive phantom standing in front of them, wouldn't offer mercy as he quested for vengeance. All she heard against the crescendo of her raging pulse was 'burgeon his flesh...' Her dark eyes grew livid as a burst of green tendrils, blindingly piercing into Bucky's chest, producing a throated outcry of unshackled agony as his blood-smeared fingers viciously clawed at the floor. "Bucky..."

Bucky could barely feel the blade that sliced across his swelling hand, but the feeling of warm crimson dripping down his wrist was too intense and chilling for him to shake off. He also felt extremely hot for some reason. Dagon's words echoed through his thoughts, filling him with confusion that made him think that this had to be a colossal mistake. But somehow, deep within his being, he knew that there was something off about his attacker, something familiar, and now there was only an unshakable sensation of dread clawing through him. He hisses as he attempts to acknowledge Selina, to reach out to her. But the once his eyes catch a glimpse of the startling image of patches of fur sprouting across his flesh, he begins to enter panic-mode. A yell, that sounded anything but human, erupted from his mouth. The noise was as devastating as a wild animal being taken out to pasture, and the guests in attendance shuddered and backed away, some even trying to leave but the doors were sealed shut by an unseen force. "The next person that attempt to leave will suffer his fate!" Dagon yells to the crowd, immediately pacifying them into a fearful submission. "What you see now is a deliverance of justice, and you are the witnesses!" He raves while drawing a glass vial from his pocket. He holds the tip of the blood-stained blade over it, and samples Bucky's blood into it. "I have waited far too long for this, and you, James Barnes, will know the suffering and humiliation that your ancestors deserved."

Shut the hell up!” Selina growled out of an erupted of provoked hostility, her voice carrying the fierceness of an untamed panther teeming to strike; she wouldn’t grant Dagon any regard of surrender.

Feeling momentarily paralyzed by a trigger of hyperadrenalized blood, she gazed dismally at the bloodied slit created by the mage's blade, vanishing under the bubbling expanses of fat on his shrinking palm, rigid knuckles disjointed and his clenching fingers merged into a swelling mass against the convergence of the sickening enchantment. 

The redolence of pig was potently disturbing, as he stared up at her, his eyes glistening and pupils dilated as rims of black devoured the hawkish radiance of his steel-blue irises, and the shapely plumpness of his masculine lips deformed into a puckering and widened swell of moist flesh...The Siberian--Brooklyn warrior she loved was torturously evolving into a fattening creature by the seconds she had dared to fathom the unthinkable, disgusting sight of hard planes of enhanced muscle expanding into loose globs of flab. His smooth and ridged abdominal muscles ballooned up increasingly, as his shortening legs parted against the mounting heaviness, releasing a  foul stench of noxious sulfur. 

“Bucky,” she yelled out breathlessly, clamping her hand over her trembling lips, trying desperately not to inhale. His stoic, flushed demeanor sulked into an abashed grimace, avoiding her widened--horrified stare as a coating of pinkish bristles swathed relentlessly over his chubby features.

"What's matter Ms. Kyle, don't you want to kiss your beloved piggy..." Dagon's sinister voice raised wickedly as she blankly watched the sharpened edge of Bucky's dimpled chin sag into a layer of pudge. That was an extreme blow against her heart, quaking through her with ramming force. The sorcerous barrage of the mage’s wielded energy was morphing Bucky into a pig. 

Relying on the command of feline reflexes, Selina hastily reached  her discarded Glock, her coffee orbs settled deeply on Bucky, mirroring the unspoken devotion–eternal love that a unveiled bride would to her beloved groom, she stared into his glacial aquamarine depths, that always held striking intensity and coolness of a frosted blade, but now, all that stared back at her was a devoid of hell-bent defiance, just blurring tears of benumbed despair. Her hand lovingly cupped over his thick, furry jaw, as the heated, gracing touch became suddenly alarmed by prickles of coarse pinkish fur as he began to rapidly convulse against every torturous influx of white-hot agony arrowing through him. 

She curved her red lips into a watery smile, offering him a sense of blazing hope, despite riding through a hellish nightmare. In those fleeting seconds of that relished and aching contact, she defied the curse, bringing tangible proximity back, as her lips openly seized his swollen mouth with imploring, liquid heat, feeling heavy gusts of his laborious grunts envelope her skin, as closeness was met against the voltaic rhythm of their heartbeats. Everything began to blur, as they fell into eternity, silencing a dying wish, and praying their love would vanquish the darkness of the possessive spell.

Emitting a throaty oink, and a vehement measure of steeped effort, Bucky softly rolled the arch of his shaky lips, painstakingly angling the swollen flesh over her mouth, fluidly tasting the exquisite infusion of passionate, feverish ecstasy as his Roman nose molded into a bulged mass reshaping into a piggish snout, and his lower teeth grew in harrowing length, resembling small tusks. The wetness of released tears dampened their cheeks, tousled, entangled tresses draped and their eyes closed in beautiful sync as they shared a deep and sensuous kiss one last time.

 When she pulled away by the wrench of the mage's power, and she gazed into the distressed stillness of his soulful blue eyes, as green mist smoked over him, obstructing the visage of his chiseled and suave youthful beauty--he was fading in the thralls of Dagon's calamitous enchantment. "Just keep on looking at me, handsome..." she urged gently, lifting his cybertronic hand resting the coolness of metallic firmly on her cheek, holding onto him with every pulse of strength her soul could generate.

He tried to speak, but the only noise that came from his changing lips was a disgruntled squeal that sent a flare of dread throughout his body. He hoped that this was a nightmare he'd soon wake up from, that any minute now he'd wake to the smell of lavender and strawberries on his shoulder inside of his bedroom. But the pain and shifting in his body was too real to ignore, he felt as if he were being drawn and quartered but also imploding within. His very muscles were like ice being melted down to non-existence, while his bones were shrinking to inhuman size and shape. The crowd at this point felt remorse and dread claw through them as they were forced to watch the horror unfold. Too afraid to leave, and to look away lest the same fate fall onto them. Bucky ignored everything except the beautiful unshakeable visage of Selina hovering over him, cradling him close as if he were the most precious thing in the world. He would've wept were it possible, at the feeling of affection running through him. With the last ounce of strength, Bucky could only gaze up at Selina with his love reflecting at her. He knew whatever was happening to him, he wouldn't be the same. The man he once was would only exist within a devolved shell of a beast that no woman could love. He inwardly screamed in both rage and sadness, yet his body was helpless as the transformation began to consume his humanly visage; turning hands into cloven hooves, his mouth and nose into a snout, and body into pudgy -rotund fat. Dagon smirks with satisfaction, watching with everyone in the crowd as the transformation completes , and where there was once the charming visage of manly perfection was now the grunting and revolting sight of a fully grown pot-bellied pig, held in Selina's arms. "At last, my vengeance—my justice—has been granted." He chuckles evilly.

Feeling the unnatural heaviness of his pudgy weight pressed against her chest, the damning sense of induced defeat became a shockwave through her lithesome, curvaceous body; she was shackled down by incessant dread, her trembling arms were cradling over a tubby creature that was definitely a pig. His studded hooves dug into her, as he frantically strove for balance against the shreds of his black Armani dress shirt that was still wrapped over his enlarged girth.

Holding her steeled composure, irately, Selina's glistening coffee eyes dauntlessly glanced down at the disheartened and soul-wrenching sight of a blobbing tub of pinkish and chestnut fur sitting on a sagging mound of fat that was attached to his expanded belly. She felt utterly demolished. Bucky no longer existed in human reflection, the spell entombed him within a vessel of a dwarfed-sized, stout pig who still had patches of his dark wolfish fringe cloaked over his humped and furry shoulders. His chubby visage was different than a farm hog, Bucky looked almost parallel to a domestic pot-bellied pig. 

Bucky didn't open his eyes, his moist snout was buried into her chest; her world collapsed---her reserves of defiance betrayed her as she registered the dejected and piteous oinking volumes emanating out of him with panicked heaves. "It's okay, Buck," she soothed brokenly in a delicate purr, restraining the overwhelming urge to cry.

The world hadn't changed to his perception, but Bucky felt as if he were crumbled like a ball of plastic and shoved into a disposable container. Within the secure embrace of Selina's arms, the former Brooklyn soldier forced himself not to break down and shudder into a batch of broken sobs and yells. His body felt like stuffed ham, his bones were constrained as if they were attached to a hollow base. He could fathom the extent of his transformation judging by the sounds of his own deep breathing that came out as stuffed oinks. Dagon's words burned in his ears, mocking him and carving out every miniscule of hope within him. His soul cried even as his body would not allow him to. Not just at the realization that he'd been turned into a fat pathetic pig, but that Selina hadn't abandoned him.

Nuzzling his snout deeper against her shoulder, the pig puffed hot air and shuddered with remorse. "Run, Selina." He says to her. Fear tore at his heart while the deafening silence of the ballroom weighed on him. Any moment now, the old mage could decide to turn his wrath onto her. That's the one thing that terrified Bucky the most. She had to make a break for it somehow. "Run…"

Run...Selina barely heard the sluggish timbre of his once suave and dangerously husky resonance being forced down by a distressed, throated grunts. She was anticipating at direct attack, at the very least from the old bastard who dared to curse Bucky into a snorting chubby beach ball with hooves; she was locked in the crosshairs, armed with a Glock, that would offer her only a fleeting distraction to escape, but she needed to carry Bucky out with her. It wasn't going to easy since he weighed 300 lbs of pure fat.

Tucking back a loose strand behind her ear, she became poised with a measure of control against the spiraling helix of devilish sorcery that penetrated her world. "Cats never run from a fight, handsome," she whispered under her terse breath, cupping her palm tentatively under his pudgy snout, feeling his laborious snorts gust over her alabaster skin as she tilted his wedged shaped head up, staring to the subtle and restrained tension reflecting in the still glints of light of his beady steel-blue irises that became palpable against the heart-wrenching moment dividing them into a realm of infinite entropy.

Despite the immense layers of flab and pinkish fur, Selia could still see him--Bucky-- the intensity of his defiant spirit and the brokenness of his tortured and raging soul. All she wanted to do, was laying on the floor, and spoon a protective embrace of her arms over him rotund piggish body, holding Bucky as her greatest treasure--her true love against the semblance of evil that invaded their eternity. The coldness of her feline essence possessed her emotions, she pressed her lips sourly into a grimace, her fingers splayed warmth over the swollen expanse of his sagging belly. She wouldn't discard him for the mage to play with as a leashed pet. She loved him too damn much. "I'm not leaving you to become this bastard's pork dinner...So quit it with the grunting and let me figure out how the hell I''m going to move your fat ass, Barnes."

The trepidation Bucky felt was quickly replaced by vexation. He knew just how damn stubborn Selina could be, and while it was a trait that could be endearing, it could also prove to be her undoing tonight. He would have growled in annoyance if it were possible, but his new form was capable of only squeamish oinks and lazy grunts. “Damn it, Lina. You need to listen to me…” he grunts protectively once he dares to look over his shoulder and sees the old mage approaching them. The measure of his stride suggested bad news, and Bucky wasn’t going to let Selina get caught in the cross-fire.

“Good, your thoughts and soul remain intact. I would have hated to unleash further wrath on an empty vessel,” Dagon sneers with a malevolent smirk stretched across his lips. His old eyes glimmered with a perverse excitement that reminded Bucky too well of the Hydra scientists he endured so much suffering from over the past 70 years. It made sense to him now why this crazy old mage had taken Zola’s face to get him unraveled before making his move. Now that he had, Bucky was right to suspect that he wasn’t done with him yet.

“You did not think the sum of my retribution would be exacted by mere public humiliation and transformation, did you now?” Dagon mocks, an evil chuckle forming past his lips. “Oh no, Mr. Barnes. My vengeance had waited centuries, and rest assured I will savor every moment of making you suffer, until you beg for me to end you.” There was a fanatical gleam in his eyes that only highlighted the madness lurking behind his blue eyes, his tone was ever dour and lethal as steel. “And when the time come that I do take your life…I will cast a spell that your mortal spirit never finds the peace that mine was so denied.”

“Come with me quietly, and I will spare your foolish lover that still clings to you.” He threatens, setting a jolt of fear into Bucky’s heart. Still curled into Selina’s embrace, Bucky resisted the urge to shudder in her arms as he listened to the mage’s words that felt every bit as real as the tub of fat hanging from his belly. Though he had tussled with magical threats in the past, none of them ever had it out for him as badly as this old man that claimed to harbor an ancestral grudge with him. He wasn’t just evil, he was crazy. And Bucky knew just how unpredictable and dangerous that combination was. He couldn’t let Selina get become a target just because she loved and remained loyal to him.

“Please let me go, darlin’” He tells her, pulling himself away, almost forcefully. He could feel his heart breaking, at both the loss of warm contact with her, as well as registered her broken whimper. “Can’t let you get hurt because of me. Never again.” He sniffs.  

“Time for you to come with me, little piggy,” Dagon makes his way over to Bucky, his hand reaching out and preparing to magically tether him like an unleashed animal…

There was only one time in her hellish life when she felt incapable of fight back; that was twenty-eight years ago, hiding in her mother’s bedroom closet, forcing down tears as she listened to the death knells of a fury of bullets echoing in her rundown Narrows apartment. She was trapped in limbic shock, watching blood smear the carpet as Falcone's men unleashed their ruthlessness, murdering her  beloved mother --after that night, the blaze of innocence was snuffed out, darkened by somber and indifferent entity of feline spirit, she welcomingly accepted that; prevailing in the thrilling afterlife --engaged in the crosshairs of seduction and death, wielding shadows as her weapons.

Now, she was balancing on the knife-edge, as the blade was piercing deeper into her safeguarded heart; surrendering Bucky into the hands of the wrinkled face devil felt condemning to discard, he deserved freedom, not another existence of being enslaved to obey the mage's insane pleasures of fattening him up with cake being forced down his throat while shackled to the bastard's heel. She would trade away nine lives in a heartbeat just to spend one with him. Listening to grunting protests emitting from the pig, she allowed dark embers of reawakened malevolence to fuel her lethal intent, gripping the Glock tighter with steady poise in her clutch, glaring unwaveringly at Dagon."You're not taking him...Bucky is coming with me," She gritted viciously, the gravity of her voice held an impending reckoning as a deadly semblance cast over her pale, elfish features, holding no sentiment of mercy, only cold deadened wrath.  "...and if you touch him, I will make you scream in hell."

Dagon appeared only mildly amused, if not impressed by Selina's passionate threat. Having heard only whispers about her past as a reputable thief and spy, the old mage saw her only as a minor obstacle against his unassuming power. What skills she possessed in the art of combat bore little danger to him who had killed countless formidable warriors in the past. She was but a stray cat that needed to be house-broken and taught to respect those above her. A cruel smile forms across his lips at the wicked thought. "Your devotion to your beloved, while commendable, is also foolish. I can see you are a stubborn woman that makes play she is a feline that prowls the night," he taunts, circling the pair while assessing them. "You hunt trinkets for sport and find solace in the embrace of a one as dark and broken as yourself," he ticks his tongue with disapproval, finally coming to a stop mere inches from them. "If you wish to join him so much, I will oblige you, my dear. You will make excellent fodder for my insatiable appetite. We will see if you can be tamed as the black cat you so believe yourself to be!"

Selina became conscious of the rotating movement of his wrinkled fingers, as green tendrils of energy sickeningly pulsated out of his veins, creating a sinister aura, for the extent of the stilled moment, she felt the pace of her heartbeat amplifying as hot octane rushed through her veins, her dark eyes glinted back a bespoke dare while her hand graced soothing caresses over Bucky's humped back, easing down his heavy, guttural snorts. The old mage's face was unreadable, like a towering Spinx, monopolizing her challenge with lifeless serpent eyes.

Obviously, a gun was a predictable choice of weapon, she needed to cunningly grasp onto invention, her eyes glanced at the heap of Bucky's clothing, searching for a combat knife, that he usually kept in his jacket's pocket. There was nothing. 'Damn it, Barnes,' she inwardly berated, roving her gaze over one of her heeled boots, the spike were jagged like a blade, something she would effectively utilize as an instrumental weapon. A wicked smirk played on her full lips, as she moved her hand downwards the boot, with a seductive graze of her lithe fingers. "Oh, that would be so much fun for you, except, don't you know that cats can't be tamed..." Lightning-fast, she broke off the chrome heel and threw it directly towards his position with no disruptive hesitance in her display of murderous precision, she was aiming for his throat.

The mage had been unprepared for the unexpected attack, but his reaction was expedient enough for him to bring up his hand to shield himself. The pulse of magic had been a second slower than the speed of the sharp object hurled at him. An explosion of pain and heat ran through his body, originating from the palm of his hand that was now dripping furious crimson. Eyes wide, the mage stares at the sharp edge of a heel protruding from the back of his hand, penetrating his palm. Gasping, he stumbles back, blinking repeatedly as he quickly nurse his hand and carefully remove the object.

"Damned woman! You would dare?" He seethes, his facial features twisted into something demonic and irate as he glares at her with hate. Until now, he had presented himself as an unconquerable force before both his hated enemy, and the fools that openly watched him with fear. In the blink of an eye, his image was both diminished and challenged by the brazen act of a defiance. Rage coursed through him as he notes the smug smirk worn across his attacker's face. His pain forgotten, the mage rips the heel free, ignoring the flow of blood that poured down his fingertips. "You have branded yourself my enemy. Make no mistake, Miss Kyle, this is not over. Like your beloved, you will know my wrath."

"I look forward to that dance," Selina deflected stiffly, not falter betrayed the heated ferocity ghosting from her smooth undertone. A poignant ache flooded through her, as her coffee eyes guardingly narrowed back at the plump dwarf sized hog, who hardly balanced on his stubby hooves, and the width of his hanging belly. Though she wouldn't dare admit it, Bucky was kinda adorable for a short-round pig; his pink snout was puckered inward, making the chubbiness of his cheeks protrude and his ears were pointed, chestnut patches of fur gave him panda eyes.

She wouldn't allow Dagon to leash him up, the unadulterated dread still blitzkrieg into her heart, but feeling the thermic warmth of Bucky's pudgy, heavy body toasted against her skin, slowly down frenetic pulses hammering against her heart.The awareness of his everlasting love never evaded, despite he now existed as tubby pot-bellied hog.

Keeping Bucky from dislodging from her arm lock, her encompassing fingers gripped onto his pinkish and brunette fur, possessively while feeling a twitch of his cork-screw tail wiggle against her chest. As wetness gathered vividly in her dark eyes, Selina vowed in reverent silence to make Bucky's unsettling days comfortable while enduring the nefarious curse; mostly keep him anchored at her side until she would find a way to restore him back. Tapping his plump belly, with subtle urgency, Selina gently coaxed her enchanted soldier to follow her lead, while swiftly collecting his discarded attire and wallet.

Trying to ease the pig off her lap, Selina instantly registered sloppy munching noises coming from the disgustingly fat pudge ball as white sugar powder smeared over her velvet dress. Her jaw flexed and knuckles cracked into a balled fist, she coldly glared down at Bucky, watching his swollen mouth shift with each heavy sluggish chew, as nasal grunts arrested the depth of his voice.

Suppressing a hiss of revulsion with a mask of tolerance, Selina rubbed the rounded shape of his engorged belly, listening to an enraptured moan unabashedly escape from the pig's mouth when his head tilted upwards, conveying that he was sensually content by her beguiling touch, snapping him out of his unbridled-obscene gluttony. Tousled wavelets of her silken mahogany strands cascaded over his back as she leaned down to the level of his ear, whispering imploringly. "Come on, Barnes, off, I'm not carrying for fat ass out...”

Cautiously, Bucky steps away from Selina's empowering touch that was still capable of reducing him to a helpless captive to her charms. It was an odd pull, a familiar and pleasant one that brought fond memories to his turbulent thoughts. He savored the distraction from the harrowing reality he found himself in. Once he was brought back into focus, anxiety and fear quickly assaulted him as he shifts on wobbly hooves until he's leaning beside her instead of on top of her. "Sorry, Selina. I'll be good," he says with a deep grunt, finding himself vexed while setting his sights on the object of his unease across the room. 

Dagon observed the odd pair with contempt in his eyes where the storm within had yet to calm, but rather shift in its lethal course. His wounded hand he clutched still bled even as he poured his magic into a healing spell. His magic was still weak as each day he was in the middle of a resurgence that would bring him back to form in a matter of weeks. He wouldn't waste the effort in taking both pig and woman as captives in his diminished state. No. Patience awarded him this small victory against the descendent of his hated enemies. He was confident that with enough time, the remainder of his vengeance would be paid in full. "You only delay the inevitable. When next you see me, I will have my due," he promises, his hateful gaze squared on the pig whose humanity still gleamed through the depths of swirling blue orbs staring back at him. Triggered by the storm of his anger, Dagon brings his uninjured hand up and mutters a teleportation spell that consumes him in a green light of magical energies. The crowd watching unravels as if they had been deprived of precious oxygen and mobility once they see that he's gone. Many of them make a quick dash and exit the ballroom, leaving only Selina and Bucky inside. The eerie silence that lingered in the once lively and uplifting ballroom was something that resembled a graveyard. The guests had scattered in wake of a force that spelled death and ruin. In an odd sort of way, Bucky missed the stormy turn of events that kept him from focusing on the cold reality that he was now two feet shorter, and over a hundred pounds heavier in the form of a gluttonous tub of pork. Victory and relief felt as distant as the sun on the horizon, and Bucky was left feeling the bitter taste of a solemn defeat. He wanted to scream, to unburden the anger he felt within at this ridiculous turn of events that had nothing to do with him directly, yet still impacted him in the most humiliating way possible. Instead, he felt his anxiety melt away by the brush of a cool touch behind his ear. Selina's presence wasn't just a reminder that he wasn't alone in this dreadful situation, but that he was still loved as well. The gravity of the events of the past hour quickly caught up to him and the pig whines, heartache gripping him as well as a swell of ardent affection for the brunette beside him. Selina stood by him, despite the risk to herself, and the repugnant form that had been forced onto him. The panic and fear he felt for her remained as he recalled Dagon's threat to exact retribution. But now that they were allowed a moment to breathe, Bucky felt confident that whatever the old mage had in store for them, they would be ready this time. His gaze finds Selina's, feeling a tug of remorse in his heart as he sees the watery and weary state of her expression. He knew this evening took as much out of her as himself, and there was nothing he wanted more than to take her in his arms and let the memory of this night fade away into obscurity. "Let's go home, darlin'." He finds himself saying with a hopeful tremor in his voice. There was nothing he needed more right now than an escape from this hellacious environment, and to feel the comfort of his own home surrounding him—and Selina curled beside him. He watches as Selina nods her approval, giving him a soft scratch behind his ears for good measure at the same time. The height difference was noticed almost immediately, and Bucky vainly tries to square his posture on his hooves to maintain some measure of dignity. He relaxes into a normal posture as their steps guide them out of the ballroom. In the distance could be heard the blaring of police sirens and chattering guests. This evening would go unforgotten by all unfortunate to have been witness to it.

But for Bucky and Selina, this was just another Saturday in the long list of bad ones they'd faced and overcome in their unnatural lives. Whatever the outcome, they knew they would face this latest challenge, and come away from it victorious—together.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

No dw it was a funny jumpscare I laughed LMAOO no literally like the lone dog left at the shelter like I guess I gotta adopt you

I’m never getting over the property line also then way he LIFTS Isagi in the air mid match is crazy like

Nagi fighting a war in his sleep LMAOAOA imagine he dreams about being in his shooter games like COD or whatever maybe that’s where he gets his workout from

LMAO lab born creation fr…which reminds me I should lowk go reread the Bible…

Yo wait imagine…if we go back to the childhood friend setting imagine they’re at a point where Otoya slowly realizes he’s in love…but then the childhood friend goes on a date or find a man (probably short term) and Otoya LOSES IT and acts like he’s being cheated on even though they aren’t even together LMAOAOAOA “how could you betray me and leave me alone??? Going out with that rat of a man” or something HAHAHA

BAHAHAHA NO WAY??? This is insane I remember looking up all the breeding guide videos trying to get all the dragons without spending my games shdgshshs (sneakily playing in class is so real LMAOAO) you’re literally freaky Friday y/n then not paying attention but still acing class girlboss fr!!! BROOO THE GEMSTONE DRAGONS I remember one time I lost my account and my topaz dragon and sent an email to the company and they were like my b bro nothing we can do and I was like???? I somehow ended up with an aquamarine dragon spawning in my island randomly and eventually got back my dragons including the topaz one!! I remember the gemstone dragons literally being like the holy grail bc wdym they give me gems???

LMAOO i remember hating on both waluigi and wario because whenever I played VS Battles with cpus they somehow were always on the opposing team and I’d get shelled by them (or at least that’s what I remember HAHAH) Hiori as toad is way too accurate I can somehow also see Otoya choosing bowser?? Thinks he looks macho or something I bet LMFAO king boo nagi is also so on brand LOLLL and Yukimiya is like the one who touches the most grass so he def just goes with the standard Mario LMAOO

I would give them smash bros assignments but I fr only played as like pokemon because back when I actually played I barely knew any of the other characters (I also used duck hunt on occasion because one time I got it randomly and was like actually this isn’t bad) so I barely remember the other options or who was good or not LMAO

I think the theory was relatively obscure LOL I saw it once in passing and was like wait…you’re onto something…but now I’m not sure LMAOAOA

HOLLYHOCK UPDATE SOON I WILL BE THERE WHEN IT GOES LIVE SHSHS (was that birdie Karasu LMFAO)

-Karasu anon

LMAOO LITERALLY like he’s tugging on my heartstrings fr!!

LIFTING ISAGI BY THE BACK OF HIS COLLAR IS CRAZYYYY WORK esp because isagi is ALSO older than him 😭 by over a year!! rin is on smth different i swear

nagi is fighting DEMONS at night i just know he’s such a kicker…absolutely insufferable to share a bed w he probably also steals the blanket

HAHAHA i won’t spoil the otoya request but let’s just say otoya will not handle it well when his childhood bff ventures into the world of dating 😏

LMAO freaky friday y/n is the closest to me i think maybe that’s why i liked writing that story sm 😓 but omg no i loved dragonvale and the gemstone dragons were always the prettiest PLUS they gave gems so they were my favs!! i also remember i got the fountain of youth thing so i could turn all of my dragons back into babies because 90% of the adult forms were ugly asf 😭

waluigi + wario + donkey kong are my unholy trinity of opps HAHAHA i hate all of them w a burning passion!! i love bowser though and i def could see otoya picking him as well. KING BOO AND NAGI JUST SPOKE TO ME ON ANOTHER LEVEL 😩 and hiori as toad too…yuki honestly yeah he just doesn’t care which character he gets so he defaults to mario 😭

i play zero suit samus whenever i play w my friends (which admittedly is v rare and i’m by no means good at the game) because i only play as girl characters!! i’m a daisy main in mario kart hehe. i think if i had to assign them smash characters i would say karasu is waluigi like i mentioned, otoya would be sheik (basically princess zelda’s alter ego as a male ninja…i think he’d actually believe sheik is a male ninja and be SUPER hype abt it until nagi or hiori made fun of him for it but he’s too attached atp to change), nagi would be mr game and watch (super weird and obscure character that’s rlly hard to get a hang of but is also crazy good once you get him), hiori would be the ice climbers (just vibes), and yuki is giving me wii fit trainer fsr?? no idea why

that birdie was in fact karasu 🤫 posting the next chap as soon as i post this YAYY

[phillipcole]

Post-AGT Appearance 1288: Scott Shannon in the Morning January 29

Man of my Dreams would have dropped to 16 last week, Canadian Wildfires into the 90s on the country chart. Toad woman of Tennessee would have been first again last weekend with $16 million, reaching $195 million domestic. In international release it would have been first in 4 new countries where we introduced it last weekend, international total $98 million so far. Demon Dress would have reached $202 million. It would have been nominated for 4 Oscars: Fashion, hair and makeup, special effects and the song.

With Phillip in his likely final coma I would be drowning in interview requests. My agent would decide I should start with Scott Shannon. His representative would have rehearsed much of the interview and I would rehearse a bit with his producer. They would finally put me on earlier this hour today.

Shannon: Welcome back to Scott Shannon in the Morning. A lot of you remember the good old days of 2015-16 when every Monday morning about this time, or Tuesdays following a holiday weekend, we chatted with entertainer Phil Cole about his career, politics and world events. We can't go back to those wonderful days, but he is joining us this morning from, where are you Phil?

PBC: A bunker in Canada.

Shannon: And how are you? Like Humpty Dumpty you had a great fall recently.

PBC: Yes, I still have the bruise.

Shannon: If you don't know, Phil was on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert 2 weeks ago. He fell down at the end and no one knew if it was part of the performance. Was it, Phil?

PBC: Yes, but from now on if that happens, call the ambulance.

Shannon: I want you to know I understood the joke and, unfortunately, explaining it is not fit for a family audience. So, let's go on to the other matters that came up that night. Phillip is in a coma again.

PBC: Yes, and from now on the Colbert people decide when to pull the plug, whether he dies instantly, how to bury him...

Shannon: And when you finally reveal the last name on Phillip's sick list.

PBC: Yes, probably.

Shannon: There's some doubt about that part?

PBC: Yes, as always, the last person on the list could pass away while we're waiting for the Late Show to pull the plug.

Shannon: Aha! Is that likely?

PBC: I'm not telling, not even hinting.

Shannon: Also on that show you officially became the first-or maybe one of the first-to say that former President Trump's possession of classified documents is treason.

PBC: Yes, why is everyone afraid of that word?

Shannon: I don't know, but we now have a public opinion poll that says only 35% of Americans consider it a crime.

PBC: I think someone better start looking in the garages of the other 65%.

Shannon: Ha ha ha Now the reason Phillip is in the coma is because Trump won the New Hampshire primary. Were you surprised at all with the results?

PBC: Remember the line from Moby Dick. I see a madman beget more mad men.

Shannon: Indeed, and you are hiding in Canada now.

PBC: Not just hiding. I've been making deals that will eventually result in 3 more hit movies, LORD willing.

Shannon: Yes, and congratulations are in order. Your new movie was first 3 weeks in a row so far.

PBC: Yes, the 35% who thinks Trump is guilty of a crime must know a good movie when they see one.

Shannon: Well, I've seen Toad woman of Tennessee. I must admit that isn't normally my kind of movie, but you did a great job and Miley Cyrus should be a big star now.

PBC: Yes, she did great. I think her songs are going to be on the charts all year too.

Shannon: Now, you had nothing to do with the Miley Cyrus songs, right?

PBC: Yes, or with the song from Demon Dress.

Shannon: Nominated for 4 Oscars!

PBC: So I'm overcoming some of the hostility, but I still think someone might kill me soon.

Shannon: Hopefully things will blow over. In the past, Phil, you used the Shannon show to make predictions about upcoming elections. How do you think the Presidential primaries might shape up?

PBC: Well, for one thing, we have almost a month before the South Carolina primary.

Shannon: That's unusual. Why do you think that is?

PBC: They made it as late as they could to give President Robinette time to announce his retirement.

Shannon: Please tell us why you refer to President Biden as Robinette.

PBC: That's his middle name and his performance so far, especially in foreign policy, reminds me of a tiny bird.

Shannon: So you think both parties should dump the front runners and start fresh?

PBC: I don't know why anyone disagrees; I really don't.

Shannon: Now the top Democratic opponent is Congressman Dean Phillips. He lost New Hampshire badly despite the fact that President Biden's name wasn't on the ballot. How do you figure?

PBC: Well, that's very disappointing, but there was no good way out for New Hampshire Democrats. The reason they were not supposed to vote first is because they had no use for Robinette in 2020. Their top choices were appalling too though. So if they voted overwhelmingly for Phillips it would show that they have contempt on the incumbent. The last time they did that, it went badly. Phillips would be about my fifth choice if the same 12 people from 2020 were running against him. However he is the best Democratic choice right now, except when None of the Above is an option.

Shannon: Very good. Now on the Republican side, Trump still has 3 challengers. How did Governor Burgum win Iowa?

PBC: Iowa goes to the person who shakes the most hands. Then he gets 12% in New Hampshire because he had no time to visit New Hampshire until the last week.

Shannon: Do you see him doing well anywhere else?

PBC: If he understands the caucus system he can sweep the west.

Shannon: But most of the south votes first, except for Nevada.

PBC: I fear the worst in Nevada. The south is the key to victory.

Shannon: Nikki Haley is the Governor of South Carolina.

PBC: Yes, and she is in a tight spot. She has to win South Carolina. That won't do much for her though. I don't know if she can dominate the south. She somehow won the hearts of her state, but there's nothing southern about her.

Shannon: That brings us to Governor Ron Desantis of Florida.

PBC: Now he is a real southerner.

Shannon: Do you think he can do anything?

PBC: Cole, do you think Ron Desantis can win most of the southern primaries?

Cole: Nah, us southerners in places like Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, Kentucky and Arkansas are so sick of them slick fellers from Florida and Texas tryin' to get our votes we ain't gonna vote for them no more.

Shannon: So, the outlook is not good for any of them .

PBC: Unless people come to their senses real fast.

Shannon: We have to take a break. Don't go away.

[atomic-thomas]

(Fake ASMR Commission) Grifty Tells You Lore [Thousand-Year Door Roleplay]

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

"Hello & good day to you. It's not often that people run across the rooftops to see me. Some folk don't even know I'm here."

"Are you here to listen to the tale of a thousand years past? If you give me 80 coins, I'll tell you the full story."

...

"Very well. Thank You. Now let us begin."

"Ages ago, a city flourished here in peace & splendor. …But it was destroyed in a single day by a demon from the dark beyond. Historians claim a great calamity befell the city, but nay… 'twas a demon. The city sank below ground, and one-quarter of the old city became the demon's den. This demon put fear into the hearts of all men and sent out minions to take the land. And its den, its palace, grew rich with the treasures stolen from all over the world."

"In order to increase its already formidable power… The demon created Crystal Stars to hold the essence of the heavens. One of these stars was placed in each country to exert the demon's influence. One of the castles built to contain these stars still stands near Petal Meadows."

"The demon built a dungeon near its palace and filled it with terrifying monsters… All those who fell into disfavor were thrown into this dungeon to rot… The demon also had three dragon pets: Hooktail, Gloomtail, and Bonetail. These dragons flew across the land, spreading fear and sorrow over all. Even now, the mere mention of a dragon is enough to give some the terrors…"

"One day, there came a hero who could vanquish the fell demon. The young Toad from Petal Meadows was strong of arm, but shy of voice… All those around the boy teased him endlessly about the way he spoke. But when the demon cast its fearful gaze across the lands and reached out… The young Toad used his strength and honor to defend his people. And he became a hero to all, despite his odd voice."

"There was a wise Goomba from Boggly Woods gifted in knowledge of the world. When beasts rose to take the woods, this knowledge helped the people fight them. And this Goomba, who knew the way that every monster would attack… She began to think of a way to banish all monsters from the land…"

"A Koopa who traveled the world alone learned of the darkness covering the land… He went alone wherever evil dwelt, and banished it with shell and sheer bravado. The monsters grew to fear this scar-riddled Koopa who thwarted them at every turn. But the brave Koopa was finally taken in a trap set for him by the monsters. But then, a Boo who fought with the monsters came and used her magic to free him. The brave Koopa's spirit had melted the heart of the cold Boo lass…"

"The Boo used her powerful magic to learn more about the evil they faced… 'We cannot destroy this darkness alone,' she decided, her face a grim mask. 'We need the Toad hero of Petal Meadows and the wise Goomba of Boggly Woods.' The Boo's magic drew the four heroes together to send the demon from the world. And so, the four heroes finally set out for the Palace of Shadow…"

"The power of the world-devouring demon was greater than any could imagine… But the wise Goomba soon realized that this was the power of the Crystal Stars… She thought of a way to take the stars and use them against the demon. She told the other heroes her plan and set it in motion, banishing their fears. The Boo's magic and the Toad's strength created a gap in the demon's defenses… At that moment, the brave Koopa seized the stars… And succeeded in badly damaging the demon…"

"But even the brave Koopa's stroke was not enough to end the demon's reign… The wise Goomba thought of another use for the Crystal Stars in that dire hour… She suggested sealing the demon forever with the Crystal Stars. All agreed. The heroes matched their strengths with the power of the Crystal Stars… And they successfully sealed the demon's soul within the deepest part of the palace. Together, they made it so that only all seven stars could break the seal…"

"The four heroes thought they had sealed away the demon and all of its powers… But the demon used a tiny opening before the seal was complete to curse them all. While holding the Crystal Stars, they'd feel nothing, but when they let them go… A black box would appear to seal their souls within. The four heroes traveled the world, scattering the stars so the seal would remain. But the last four stars each carried the curse, which claimed each hero…"

"The hiding places of many of the Crystal Stars have now faded into legend. But some say that the wise Goomba hid one in the Great Tree. At that time, many monsters wandered in the nearby Boggly Woods. The tiny Punies were always tormented by their fierce appetites, it was said. Pitying them, the Goomba hollowed out the Great Tree for the Punies to live in. The Punies were so grateful that they swore to protect the Crystal Star there…"

"Once the Boo heroine hid her star in a steeple, she was trapped in the nearby town… Some say the Crystal Star lies in that steeple still…"

"The Koopa hero went to a southern isle to hide his star where none would find it. But the Koopa was so tired from his journey that the pirate king Cortez stole it easily. In that very instant, the Koopa was trapped in an inescapable chest. But Cortez did not realize the power of the star and lost it among his treasures…"

"The strong Toad held his star and continued his arduous journey. But eventually the miles took their toll upon him, and he collapsed. A traveling healer happened by and saved his life… But the Toad knew his fate was to be trapped in the box when the star was gone… So he asked this healer to hide the star in a secret place known to no one…"

"After the demon was sealed within the Palace of Shadow… Many refused to come near that place of terror. But as the years passed, entire generations forgot… And the penniless and the immoral began to congregate in this once-barren place… This place soon became a populous harbor, the town of Rogueport… And some even began to say that the underground city held a legendary treasure. But they were unaware that the demon slept beneath them still…"

"The heroes knew that the seal might not last forever… And they sought to make the Crystal Stars available to one who might need them… So, before going to their individual dooms, they made a map to all the stars. And to prevent an evil force from misusing this map… They placed it in a box that could only be opened by the pure of heart."

...

"Well, there you have it. Those are the events that have lead up to where we are today."

"Soon, the Thousand-Year Door will re-open & the demon will rise once again."

"I sense the power of Crystal Stars in your possession. I wonder... Could you & your friends be the new heroes that are destined to save the world?"

"In any case, I wish you safe travels. Good luck out there."

_______________________________________________

THE END