#who remember things she did to their villages when her mother was queen

[theonlyle]

Concepts im working on for my SVTFOE au:3

[miryum]

Don't Pity Me, My Princess (Azriel x Reader)

With Azriel as your personal knight, it's getting harder and harder for both of you to ignore your feelings.

Warnings: whole lotta angst. Talk of children and childbirth because royalty need heirs, you know? Az doesn’t have his shadows (even though it was so hard to write him without them) but is still called Shadowsinger. Azriel's mother was abused and there's like, one sentence about it

Word Count: 5k

Azriel had lived at the palace since he was a young boy. His mother had knocked on the servant’s quarters one dark night, begging for someone to take her son. She could handle an abusive husband, but she couldn’t bear her baby boy to suffer the same fate as she did. An old maid took pity on the new mother and agreed to house, clothe, and educate the child. Just before the new mother left, she kissed Azriel’s cheek and whispered his name. “You’ll do good things, my dear. I am so sorry.”

Coincidentally, a couple months later, the Queen gave birth to an infant girl. Princess Y/n was heralded with parades and celebrations, the new heir apparent. Meanwhile, in the servant’s quarters, a baby with a thick head of black hair and small little wings was just learning how to lift his head, staring up at the maids and butlers who saved his life.

Azriel grew up preparing for the life of a knight. He remembered growing up watching the knights train as he played with his own wooden sword. He remembered beating his still-developing wings to try and see over the wooden barrier of the jousting arena. He remembered when the knights first caught sight of him, trying to hack away at a dummy. They teased him at first, but then, just like his entire life, they took pity on him. The next week, Azriel began training as a squire.

It was a long time before he earned his leathers and then his siphons, but the Shadowsinger became a name that was both respected and feared throughout the kingdom. The King sent him on missions all over the continent and Azriel always returned successful. He would fight in the jousts and consistently win. He had maidens and ladies swooning over him, but they weren’t who he yearned for.

That’s why he volunteered, almost a bit too hastily, when the King asked for extra protection over his daughter, Princess Y/n. 

Azriel’s mind was filled with you, almost every moment of every day. It couldn’t be healthy, that he was aware of, but having grown up next to you, even if from the shadows, he had forged a deep connection to you.

When he was young, he had hardly noticed the little princess completing her studies. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw her in the halls or at the training ring — which is where he most frequented. But one day, a year or two after he had turned a teen, Azriel had fought in his first joust. In any joust, it was customary for a knight to be sponsored by a lady of the court. A lady usually had a favourite knight she regularly sponsored, so Azriel’s stomach was in a pit when it was time to trot by for potential sponsorship. Who would ever cheer for the newest, youngest knight? Azriel sure could beat a village boy in combat, but he was still the smallest and scrawniest of all of the palace’s knights — if you could even call him that. He could recall his anxiety as if it was yesterday. The way the crowd was cheering, the way his horse’s hooves kicked up dirt underneath, and the way he began to sweat as he tried to sit straight. 

And then, as he passed the royal box, you stood. Azriel almost kept his horse trotting by, sure it was a mistake, but when he saw you extract your blue handkerchief, he pulled on the reins. By some fortuity or fortune, your handkerchief was the same colour as his siphon. He had just earned his first one the week prior. Through his metal visor, he stared, wide-eyed, as you reached down and tucked your handkerchief into the folds of his armour. The rest of the court was watching too, but Azriel didn’t see them. He could only focus on the way his heart sped up when you whispered, “good luck.” 

You were an utter vision. Azriel was sure that you had chosen him to be your champion because of the closeness in your ages, but your support, even if it was just a piece of cloth you had embroidered, meant the world. He hadn’t won his first joust, or his second, but you kept sponsoring him. Azriel became accustomed to stopping under the royal box and bowing to you before heading to his starting position. Sometimes, especially if it was an important event, you would have a new handkerchief for him, or even some whispered encouragement, but Azriel didn’t need those things as long as he could keep making eye contact with you. And then he started winning. He could still hear your excited screams as his javelin hit his opponent straight on, which gained Azriel the championship. It wasn’t unusual for members of the court to get invested in the jousting, but others found it humorous that you were jumping from your seat to see better. However, you were only a teenager, and they knew you would soon be able to control your emotions. 

You had not-so-patiently waited for Azriel to bring his horse back around to the royal box after doing a lap of the stadium. People had thrown flowers and kisses and Azriel had shed his helmet, his cheeks hot from both the exertion and attention. When he saw you, he bowed deeply and handed a flower that someone had thrown to him. It was a small red rose. Your gloved fingers brushed his as you took the flower. His black hair hung over his face as he ducked his head. You made a mental note to have the barber stop by the barracks. “My Princess,” he muttered, head still bowed. “Thank you for choosing me as your champion, all those months ago.”

“Well, Sir Azriel, it certainly paid off, didn’t it?” you replied, smiling down at him. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” You nodded to one of your handkerchiefs that was tucked in the chink of his armour, right above his breast. 

That was the past. And now, Azriel had the glorious opportunity to stand in front of the King and Queen, multiple siphons displayed proudly as he suggested his own name for the position of your bodyguard. Your childhood knight was retiring, something everyone thought was best as his wit, speed, and strength declined. That opened up the position. The King and Queen had called for the Shadowsinger’s opinion and he gave it, however biased he was with his feelings. “Your Majesties, I believe that the best thing for this kingdom and your daughter would be if I offered my services.” 

“And why is that, Shadowsinger? Wouldn’t you rather be sent on missions and participate in protecting our kingdom?”

“With all due respect, my King, the princess is the face of the kingdom,” Azriel said, a knee pressing against the floor of the throne room. It hurt, yes, but he could handle it if it meant sparing you the pain. “The people love her, but that also means many hate her. There are too many dangers, especially with other kingdoms threatening to encroach on our borders. I would be able to protect the princess, and you and the Queen, more efficiently if I was her personal guard.”

The two monarchs exchanged a look before the Queen nodded. “Very well, then. You’ll assume the position effective immediately. You shall accompany Princess Y/n to events and daily excursions. You’ll be briefed more extensively later this week.”

Azriel nodded and stood. He thanked the King and Queen and hurried out, trying to conceal his budding smile.

“Do you remember all the signals?” you called from your dressing room. 

Azriel was standing outside, content to just listen to your voice, but he replied, “yes, my princess.”

“And you’re wearing your dress uniform?”

“Yes, my princess.”

“Are all the other guards as well?”

“Yes, my princess.”

The door then opened and you peeked out. “And are you sick of me asking you senseless questions?” you asked, an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Never, my princess,” Azriel answered softly, eyes holding yours. “Are you almost ready?”

You ducked back into your dressing room, voice floating out again. “Almost. I believe we just need some more hairpins, yes?” Your maid responded in an affirmative and a couple minutes later, the door opened once more. There you stood in a cobalt gown that cascaded down to the floor, hair all done up, and jewellery proudly displayed on your knuckles and upon your collarbone. It didn’t escape Azriel that your dress was the same colour as his siphons.

Azriel had spent years serving under the King and Queen, honing his emotions to be the stoic force he needed to be. But, with you in front of him, he found his resolve cracking. His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Do I look that horrible, sir?” you teased.

The guard immediately shook his head. “No, my princess. Quite the opposite, in fact. You…” his jaw tensed. “Those princes and dukes will be tripping over their feet.”

As much as Azriel would love to pretend that you were his and he would be the only one accompanying you tonight, he knew that this ball was for a very specific reason, and one he did not like. Your parents needed you wed, and it couldn’t be to him.

Nobility and court members alike knew to avoid Azriel when he was watching you. You were on your fifth dance with the fifth man and Azriel made sure to walk around the dance floor as you moved, always being as close as possible.

The moment Azriel had known he was to be your new personal knight, he had created a series of hand signals for you to use covertly. He was always on the lookout for your well-being and thankfully, there had only been a few times when you had needed to use the hand signals.

Months prior, your parents had held an anniversary ball for their marriage. You were a bit younger, more naive, and Azriel had only been your personal knight for just under a year. He had loved every moment of it, but he couldn’t help but feel a budding sense of anticipatory fear as he saw you twirl around the dance floor carelessly. You had one of your younger cousins in your arms and was spinning them around to their delight. While Azriel wanted to imagine a smaller child in the stead of your cousin, perhaps one with dark hair and your eyes and little wings that replicated his own, he was more focused on the older man that was watching you.

A measly Count from further South, the man looked twice your age and three times as intoxicated. He stayed on the outskirts of the celebration, but the Shadowsinger was not one to miss something.

When the Count approached you after your dance with your cousin, Azriel didn’t intervene. He couldn’t act only on a suspicion that the Count was malicious. And he wouldn’t act without your express approval.

But then he saw you twist the ring on your pointer finger.

When Azriel had first become your bodyguard, you were unsure if you could remember all the signals he had wanted you to memorise. A deeper fear, admittedly, was that he wouldn’t be watching and then unintentionally leave you to your own devices. Azriel was determined, however, to never waive your trust. He immediately came marching in, whispering something meaningless into your ear under the guise of matters only you, the princess, could attend to, and swept you away. A dirty look was thrown to the Count and Azriel made sure never to let you near him again. In fact, the Count was barred from any and all future events.

Meanwhile, you had finished your dance with the nameless suitor and Azriel already had an arm stretched out for you. You took it gratefully, needing a respite from all the men giving you unabashed stares. “I really do hate this,” you said to him as he guided you away. “I don’t see why they’re even letting me choose my husband if he will be from this very specific pool of men. At this point, it would be easier to simply betroth me to whomever they see fit.”

“You know my feelings on that, my princess,” Azriel replied. “And I’m sure your parents feel the same. They wish for you to have some sort of semblance of choice and happiness.” Even if it is not with me, the man who would worship you.

You sighed and looked down at your feet. “I know, good sir. But it’s tiring, as I’m sure you can realise. I’d much rather be in my room, engaging in the arts or taking a nap.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh, one that drew your lips up into a brilliant smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sure you would.” He paused and then looked down at you. You looked so perfect on his arm and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep you there. “Here’s a proposition: if you survive the rest of this evening, I will dance with you.”

Your eyes immediately light up and Azriel swore the stars themselves burned brighter, pledging their allegiance to you. God, you were like ambrosia in his veins and how he wished for it to keep flowing. “Really?” you gasped. Azriel had been very conservative in his dances, even though, unbeknownst to you, he would dance on forever if you asked. But whenever he held you in his arms, it was too intoxicating. Too dangerous. He was still the Shadowsinger, even if he was sworn to protect you. The hands he held you with had been the notorious cause for so much pain. The thought of telling you about his past missions… It scared him more than imaginable. Those memories were ones best kept locked away within the shadows. He didn’t want you to think of the people he’s hurt – of the suffering he had caused – when you looked at him.

So all he did was nod back, smiling the soft look only you could bring out.

The night slowly wore on, the candles flickering over the walls, bidding the departing guests farewell. And still you stayed. Even as the moonlight rose above the windows and the maids and butlers slowly began cleaning up, you stayed. Only the musicians remained as Azriel led you to the middle of the floor. There was an unspoken trust between you and the musicians, knowing they wouldn’t tell your parents (who had already gone to bed) about your singular, last dance with your knight.

Easily, you placed your hand on his shoulder and Azriel’s palm flexed on the small of your back. The way your dress swished softly was a small distraction from the thoughts swirling in Azriel’s mind. He drew your joined hands closer to his chest as he thought back to how you danced with those other men. As if you knew he needed comfort, you stepped closer to Azriel, resting your head on his chest and eyes closing with exhaustion. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you tightly – almost protectively – as he let his cheek rest on your hair. His eyes softened and he murmured, “tired, my princess?” 

“Over a multitude of things,” you replied. 

Azriel tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “A multitude of things?”

“I almost wish I didn’t have to marry,” you admitted. “It’s not as easy as it seems in the stories. I need to take alliances into consideration and the happiness of my people. Along with wealth, resources, and good blood. My feelings hardly add into the equation, even though I want them too.” You then shook your head and changed the subject, a teasing smile on your lips. “Has anyone complimented your wings before?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“No,” he responded, a bit hoarsely. “No one has.”

You hummed and shook your head. “They should.” Your eyes trailed down to your intertwined hands before giving his palm a small squeeze. His burn scars marred his skin, contractures stretching over his hands and arms and small keloids by his wrists and creeping up to his elbows. Azriel winced slightly at the pressure of your hand on his scarred skin, memories of the pain flooding back. He tried to hide it, not wanting to ruin the moment, but a flicker of discomfort crossed his features. You instantly lifted your hand slightly to give him reprieve. Azriel wished for the contact back, but he knew he was the one to blame for the lack of touch. He was the one to make you flinch away.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, trying to bring the conversation back to his wings. "You’re the first.”

“I’m privileged then,” you murmured as he spun as the music lilted. “Though it truly is a pity.”

As you spun around, Azriel's wings extended instinctively, the iridescent membranes catching the moonlight. He held you close, ensuring your balance, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to revel in the beauty of his own wings. They were a part of him, and something he couldn’t imagine living without. He watched you longingly as you twirled in his arms. His eyes followed the movement of your gown as you twirl. When he had you pressed close to him once again, he replied quietly, “is it really a pity, my princess?”

“They should’ve been complimented — all of you should’ve been complimented a thousand times before now,” you corrected yourself quickly, thumb sweeping over his hand where yours was placed on top of his. “You don’t see how amazing you are because you hide behind your scars and memories. But you’re the best knight I’ve had.”

The words carved him open deeper than any blade, striking into the insecurities he held. The sincerity in your voice and the gentle touch of your thumb on his hand made something in his chest ache. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. The idea of all of him being complimented, rather than just specific parts or aspects, such as his fighting ability, was a foreign concept. He glanced down at you, eyes filled with sereness. “All of me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough.

You nodded with a caring, hopeful smile on your face. Maybe he would finally see how sensational he was.

Eventually, you came to a stop, standing in the middle of the room. The musicians finished their song and quietly packed up, leaving. Yet, you and Azriel were still in each other’s arms. Azriel continued to hold you, savoring the moment. He relished being able to hold you like this, without anyone else around. 

“Do you truly pity me?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered out. “I would never be able to pity the man who devoted his life to me. I would never be able to pity the man who devotes himself to me. And I don’t think I have it in me to pity the man whom I truly care for.”

For a brief moment, he stood rigid, unused to such easy affection. Then, his wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the world outside. “As I you, my princess,” he allowed himself to say, scared that if anything more were to come from his mouth, it would be a declaration of unwanted love.

“Will you ever call me anything else?” you couldn’t help but tease, looking up at him.

Azriel smiled back down at you, hazel eyes warm with love. “No, my princess.” The night was silent, but Azriel didn’t want to be. His lips parted to tell you something, but when your eyes darted down to them, he found himself asking, “have I yet praised your dress?”

“You have,” you laughed. “But it’s kind of you to do it again. I wanted to match you, you know?” You reached down and pulled your dress to the side to reveal a glittering sheen of fabric under the thick cobalt fabric.

Azriel’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Beautiful, princess,” he admired sincerely once again. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” He repeated the words you had said to him all those years ago.

“I’ll always wear your colours,” you replied. “You’re my knight, after all. Ever since I was young.” Your hand slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, thumb brushing against his skin and along the hair by the nape of his neck.

The Shadowsinger couldn’t contain his shiver. “Must you, my princess?” he breathed out, voice rough.

“Must I what?”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut and his head dipped down, nose brushing against your forehead. “Must you marry some duke or prince?”

It took you a while to respond and Azriel’s heart only beat faster each second that passed. “No,” you admitted quietly. “But my parents would like it. They won’t have me marry a commoner, but… I could very well marry a knight.”

“Princess…” Every part of his soul seems to be reaching out, grasping for you. His grip tightened slightly, holding you against him as if he feared you would be ripped. His hands trembled slightly as they remained on your waist. There was a vulnerability in his eyes – a desperate need for confirmation that the words you said were real. “Do not give me hope if you plan on tearing it away. It is too cruel of you.”

“So it’s true,” you muttered. “You have feelings for me?”

“I am not brave like you,” he instead said. “I’ve been your loyal knight for years, my princess. But I couldn’t bear to make myself a liability to your heart. I couldn’t do that to you. I care what others think of me, as much as I hate it. They cannot pity me, I cannot have it so.”

You shook your head sadly. “Sir, they do not feel sorry for you. No one does, especially not me. You’ve protected me for so long, you’ve more than earned your place here by my side. This isn’t some fanciful notion born of youthful indiscretion. You and I both know that. This is a mature, considered love that, hopefully, you feel too.” Your voice cracked as you continued and tears shone in your eyes. Oh, how Azriel hated to be the one to cause you such pain. “My love for you, as you are, flaws and all, is why I adore you so deeply.”

The man couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What did one say when the love of their life confessed feelings?

You couldn’t see the way he gazed down at you, almost lovingly. You stubbornly kept your cheek on his chest, trying to minimise the way your cheeks heated up. Why wasn’t he saying anything? But you were already so far in, so you couldn’t help but whisper, “you would do most anything for me, correct, good sir?”

“Within a heartbeat.”

“Do you mind if I demand something from you?” you asked.

Azriel chuckled softly at your question, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. He tilted his head curiously as his fingers traced small circles on your lower back. “What did you have in mind, my princess?” he asked, his voice low. “I'm curious now... What could possibly entice you enough to make a deal with the devil himself?” 

“Oh, the devil himself?” you repeated, shaking your head as you laughed softly. Somehow, he always managed to make you feel better, no matter the embarrassment that coursed through you. “Is that what you truly think of yourself?” You smiled up at him, not answering his question as you tried to find the courage to do so. Finally, you whispered out, “a kiss.”

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your whispered confession. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, hardly believing what he heard. He could feel his heart skip a beat, like a leaf in the wind. You looked so small in his strong arms, so hopeful. “Is that all you would ask for?” he finally managed to ask. His wings twitched a bit.

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. That’s what I would demand.”

He stared down at you, taking in every detail of your face - the slight parting of your lips, the wide-eyed gaze, the flush creeping up your neck. He could feel the tension between you, thick and electric, like the air before a storm. His hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. Gently, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, his voice a low rasp. “Nothing more?” 

“Ignorant knight,” you whispered out once, laughing.

“Is that still what you want?” he asked again desperately. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it made him dizzy. His eyes traced over your face over and over again. 

“Oh, Shadowsinger,” you muttered, shaking your head in amusement. You reached up and cupped his face in your palms. “Why won’t you kiss me?” You reached up on your tiptoes before slowly connecting your lips. 

Azriel had been struck by lightning. Every nerve ending in his body came alive, sending sparks of pleasure through him. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, scarcely able to believe what was happening. Then, with a low groan, he melted into the kiss. His hand came to cup your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. He poured all his pent-up longing and affection into it, trying to convey without words just how much you mean to him.

From the sheer intensity of it, your knees weakened under you, but Azriel quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you securely against his chest. You tilted your head and it felt like a dream. But he didn’t need to wake up because you were real. You were there, loving him fully and kissing him sweetly.

Azriel laid in bed, body and wings curled around the smaller form. His eyes blinked slowly, gazing down reverently at the infant. The baby had small wings that were almost exact to Azriel’s own. They had made the birth difficult and Azriel had been about ready to break down the door when he heard your screams. He hadn’t been allowed in the room, even though you had begged for him. Your cries had brought him to his knees and replaced the nightmares about his past missions with ones of your sobs.

Nevertheless, you had accomplished the horrible feat and Azriel had rushed into the room. He had first checked up on you, hands and anxieties flying about, kisses being placed on the skin that he could reach. Then he saw his little son, whom he now held in his arms. 

You had recuperated over the months, but it never got old to Azriel to hold his child. It never got old to hold you either. The moment he had gotten his child in his arms, so unbelievably worried about doing harm to him as he had done harm to so many others in his past, Azriel had asked for another. 

You had almost thrown him out of the room.

That first night, Azriel had held both you and child close to his bare chest, for the midwives had said that skin-to-skin contact was best. For the next few weeks, Azriel hardly put on a shirt (which you didn’t complain about), so it got normal to see the ex-knight pressing his son against his chest as he walked around the castle, as if giving the newborn a tour. The baby’s head fit perfectly in Azriel’s palm and more often than not, he would look up at his father with wide eyes that were so much like his mother’s, reaching out to grab at Azriel’s chin or wings.

The Shadowsinger had yet to be thrust into the life of King, for your parents hadn’t passed on, but for that he was grateful. It gave him more time to spend with his wife and child.

There was the creak of a floorboard and Azriel looked up to see you entering your shared bedroom. A smile instantly broke out on his face. “There’s my wife,” he murmured, reaching out with his hand that was adorned by the perfect ring. Its twin sat on your own finger. “My princess.” The words had such a sweeter connotation now.

“Husband,” you replied, having yet to get used to that word. You took his hand, and with a smile of your own, crawled into bed next to your son. “How are my two favorite Shadowsingers doing?”

“Oh, he shall not need that title,” Azriel hummed. “It’s much too dangerous for our little boy.”

“And what would you rather propose?”

Azriel gazed down at the small child, a hand ghosting over the boy’s thick patch of dark hair. “That’s for him to decide,” he finally said. “He will be able to make his own name and title and we will love him whichever path he chooses.”

After some blissful moments passed, you allowed some words to tumble from your mouth. “Are you happy, my love?”

“Of course.” He looked up at you, concerned eyes snapping away from the babe. “Why do you ask? Do you doubt my love for you?”

You shook your head, smiling. Your voice was quiet, worried about stepping over a line. But if almost two years of marriage had taught you anything about Azriel, it was that he never held secrets from you. “No, never. I just remember how, before we were wed, you were certain that everybody pitied you. I was wondering, do you still think they do?” 

“No,” your husband replied, eyes soft as he looked over at you. “Why would they? My entire world is here with me now. I hardly need anything else.”

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first ACOTAR fic so I hope I did Azriel justice. 😊 I wanna thank @pellucid-constellations for writing amazing Azriel fics and getting me into ACOTAR in the first place and just being amazing. (Also @illyrianbitch for posting today and giving me the excitement to post for Az) 😁

[lizardsfromspace]

Sylvia Browne was one of the most famous psychics of the turn of the millennium, and one of its most despicable. You may remember her from when she told the mother of Amanda Berry her daughter was deceased, which she believed, and she died believing that...but Barry was alive the whole time. Or from the dozens of other times she did something similar

Sylvia Browne released her predictions for the new year every year, like many psychics, but she was stupid enough to keep them online so people could judge them later. Her predictions for the year 2000 include Bill Bradley beating out the Reform Party for the Presidency (he lost the primary to Al Gore, and the Reform Party finished fourth, behind the Green Party with less than half a million votes), that David Letterman would retire (he stayed with the show for 15 more years), that small businesses would flourish in the 2000s, and that Donald Trump will not have a career in politics. Which did technically come true in that he didn't run in 2000, but uh

Also, from reading these at the time, she predicted the big one in California and the death of the Pope nearly every year. Only a keen psychic mind could predict that a man in his eighties could pass away from old age

There's one year she left out, though. She wiped her 2001 predictions from the internet...and her 9/12/2001 predictions. But thankfully, someone preserved them (they're not in the Wayback Machine bc its only 2001 save is in October. And apparently the thing below was a pop-up)

Let's unpack this

She says bin Laden was behind it. An amazing prediction, except she posted this a few days after 9/11, when the media was already speculating he was responsible

She was "given information", which I guess is a way to phrase "watched CNN"

She just makes up a country. She says 9/11 was done by the "Palestinian Republic of Bundi". I can find forum threads from then wondering what the fuck she meant, and all these years later it's still baffling

Did she mean Burundi? A country in Southeastern Africa? There's villages named Bundi in Iran and India, but I can't even begin to imagine what she was even imagining, or why she didn't even begin to stop imagining it

"Triad of Jordan" also turns up nothing

The first name she mentioned just brings up Linkedin pages.

The second only turns up this post. Neither of those names seems to exist in any language

She tried to explain why she didn't predict 9/11, by saying she's not omniscient, and she warned of terrorism...in 1999. But that article I linked dug up her 1999 predictions, bc she left them online, and she said there'd be terrorism...in Florida and London

At the end of this, she takes care to note that 9/11 will NOT stop the Sylvia Browne cruise through Greece and Turkey!!

She saw 9/11, and rushed to make a statement trying to explain why the spirits didn't show her 9/11, and also make up a few countries to blame 9/11 on. Then she sold a cruise, deleted the page, and wrote a book claiming everyone who died on 9/11 was led there to die by their spirit guide to be martyrs to bring patriotism back. I'm glad we don't have celebrity TV psychics anymore but I almost miss them. Simply not justice in how she got off scot-free and our passive aggressive, intermittently-Jamaican queen Miss Cleo got nabbed

[artificervaldi]

Metaphor Archetype Swap Post

Just a post of my Archetype swap and some small notes on the various characters and their roles in it because It Seemed Fun Okay? Some are direct swaps, others are more like. A circle of swapping. Open to questions always and all that good stuff but still. Lets-a go!

Seeker: Lilith / Louis

Unlike in canon, Louis was taken in my Hermitess Gruidae following the Sanctist attack on the village, leaving him living among the Elda for much longer than in canon. In this I picture the story starts when he finally sneaks away from it and goes to learn more about the world and spread his knowledge to those who listen. Too bad Gallica happened to follow after... Lilith on the other hand in a stand-in for More because to me that familial connection between the one who awakens to Seeker and the follower link is important. A strange woman whose Akademia takes on the appearance of an old library that once stood in the Elda village, she has the face of a woman Louis barely remembers. (Bonus the voice that speaks rather than being the Eldan Queen would likely be his father to match Lilith being his mother).

Warrior: Basilio

A young man who once lived in an orphange with his brother and various others. When it mysteriously burned, he found himself turning to the igniter experiments to try and survive. After that also went south he ended up adopted by Fabienne, though Brigitta often did most of the raising due to her work in the military. At the start of the story I imagine he's the one with reason to get to the Northen Fortress, needing to speak with Fabienne ASAP.

Mage: Gallica (Universal Constant)

Gallica is still the Mage Follower here and still trying to keep the Seeker on the right path. But with no cursed Prince and no direct goal, she's mainly trying to show Louis that there's more to life than raw strength and making sure he doesn't spill the beans on things like the source of Humans to the wrong people. Save her.

Healer: Maria (Universal Constant)

Technically an orphan adopted by Fabienne and/or Brigitta after her mother died and, for her safety, her father had to leave her behind. A kind girl of mixed heritage, she just wants to help everyone out and doesn't understand why others seem to hate her so.

Knight: Fidelio

Older brother of Basilio and adoptive son of Fabienne, he went into the military after her out of admiration and a want to follow in her footsteps. He's stationed elsewhere before the King's funeral and returns to help guard it. When he loses Fabienne he begins to question what he's doing with his life and why he puts his life on the line the way he does. Maybe Louis and Basilio hold that answer.

Brawler: Glodell

A fellow who believes that might makes right, very similar to Louis's own POV before Gallica, Bas, and Del start making him see more nuance. He runs for King here like in canon, but never seems to be able to beat the Elda who appeared out of the blue one day...

Merchant: Milo

This one is one I have less ideas for I will be real for you. Something with his igniter shop and self-absorption being at least partially a mask to try and protect himself, only for Louis to throw a big spanner in the works or something. We're working on it.

Gunner: Lina

The youngest and only girl of the Kayden family, Lina often finds herself feeling ignored and looked down upon by others. When Del commissions her to help sweep their group across Euchornia she jumps at the chance. A pupil of Neuras in this verse, who has taken to running for the throne himself. She wants to make his dream a reality not only to prove herself capable but her mentor not crazy.

Thief: Zorba

A mixed tribe man who made his home in Martira after losing his mother and father to racist mobs in their home village. For a time, things went well... Until the vanishings of various children were pinned on him and he was forced to flee. Despite this he stays nearby, wanting to find the true culprit and clear his name. But that's hard to do when he cannot leave the shadows. Not until others drag him out of them.

Faker: Loveless

A paripus happy to lean into the easy-going partygoer people see him as. As it turns out, however, he's doing it for good reason. The money he can snag off the various rich partygoers tend to help him support his hometown, though it doesn't come without enemies...

Commander: Rudolf

The xenophobic guard captain of Martira, despite his less than ideal actions he does keep the town running smoothly. When Zorba is proven innocent and the people are saved by an Elda, he's forced to confront these world-views and Louis is there every step of the way to revel in it.

Masked Dancer: Rella

Not under the thumb of Forden, Rella has a bit more freedom in life. Mostly in the form of rebelling against her parents and what they want of her, albeit in little ways. A beloved saint across all of Euchronia, she finds herself running into Louis's party quite a bit. Currently seems to be under the employ of the Prince, but how much of that is truly her intention and how much is a mask?

Summoner: Edeni

Leader of the Mustari in the Virga Isles, Edeni is working tirelessly to find a way to save Eupha. Eventually going as far as to send her as a candidate for the throne in hopes of delaying what seems inevitable. When she returns ready to be a sacrifice, he finds himself trapped in the temple rather than her and willing to take her place if that is what it takes. Louis and company have... other plans.

Berserker: Hulkenberg

Loyal to the Prince from a young age, you'd be hardpressed to find someone who believes in him more. Of course, that is before others sweep in and begin making her... question more about her life than she would like. Arvid, like a father to her, seems staunch in his belief in the Prince and so she will be too. At least, that's the plan...

Main Antagonist: Prince

Never put under a wasting curse, the Prince of Euchronia has been able to grow like any other child. That does not mean his life was safe or that Forden would not still push for more control, however. And because of that he becomes bitter towards the world. He wears horns to legitimize his claim to the throne, seeing himself as a messiah that will save the people (by turning them into Humans. Don't worry about it). Too bad dear ol' dad had other plans, huh?

Dies trying to kill the main Antagonist: Fabienne

(This is the Grius role in case it's not clear) A soldier for some time, Fabienne has watched the dark path the Prince has been going down and has done what she can to stop it. By the time the story starts and with the King dead, however, she doesn't see much choice but to try and put him down before he can cause more harm. This goes about how you would expect.

Antagonist’s Most Loyal Soldier: Strohl

(Zorba Role) After the burning of Halia, Strohl finds himself saved by the Prince and becomes loyal to him to a fault. He will do anything to make his vision a reality, seeing whatever is to come as something that will save him from the horrors that have become his life.

Antagonist’s Prick Follower: Catherina

(Glodell role I am calling him a prick not Catherina I promise) A somewhat independent runner for the crown, Catherina has known the Prince for years and finds herself feeling as though she lives in his shadow. She's willing to do anything to gain the upper hand. Anything.

Berserker’s Lost Special Person: Grius

(Del Role) The tutor turned personal guard of the Prince and like a father to Hulkenberg, Arvid Alces has seen many a thing. He is loyal to the Prince, to the very end. But even in his old age he can learn new things, and Louis is happy to teach him...

Hushed Honeybee Owner: Brigitta

(Fabienne Role) The owner of the Hushed Honeybee Inn, Brigitta is no stranger to people worried of the eventual succession using her place as a base. She even helps from time to time, when not dealing with customers or making sure Maria (and in the past Basilio) grow up right. Does she have a thing with Fabienne? Uncle Ben IDK.png

Girlie Pop in the church’s pocket: Junah

(Rella role in case it's not clear) Better known as the starlet Junah, she's a propaganda machine for Forden and Sanctism in general. This isn't a job she likes, mind you, but it's the only way she can avoid being disowned by her family. Rella, of course, does not know. Propaganda might not be the only thing she's been used for, however...

Mustari Candidate: Eupha

Priestess of the Mustari, Eupha was never meant to leave the Virga Isles, but Edeni had other plans. She runs on the same platform Edeni did in canon, and is quite successful for a time. When her brother becomes trapped within the Dragon Temple, she has little choice but to beg the party for help. When he is safe, she can fufill her duty... Or so she thinks.

Portrait Having Candidates: Alonzo, Neuras, Bardon, Heismay

(You know those guys I made Followers? These are their replacements) Don't have much here yet, either. Neuras runs on a platform of focusing on technology and growth there for sure. Other's I'm still working on but they don't really matter nearly as much to this AU so it's fine. It's fine.

[astridthevalkyrie]

Re: Your strong feelings against Regina - I won't be hard pressed bc it won't change my opinion (sorry my love for her is too great) but I'm curious to read if you've rambled at all about why you dislike her so strongly?

LOLL i've done a few rambles over the years and i tend to hatepost whenever i rewatch clips but i don't think i've ever done like a full on explanation on why. and yes please feel free to love her! idc how anyone feels about a fictional character.

some stuff i do like about her: lana parilla is obv very talented and pretty, her and jmo have rlly good chemistry, sometimes her one liners are super funny ("the entire charming family and their pirate mascot" is fucking hilarious i wish she said more stuff like that).

but tldr—she did way too many bad things and never properly redeemed herself for them.

in the first two seasons she does, like, incredibly bad stuff LMAO, including but not limited to: ruining snow's life after killing her dad, killing entire villages, casting the curse and the subtle ways she tortures snow in it, abusing henry (who is in therapy because he's told he's "crazy" for saying that he's aging while everyone else stays the same age), sacrificing children to the blind witch, the entire situation with graham (that she never confesses to, emma never finds out), trying to poison emma after emma tells her she's already leaving because she couldn't stand emma being in henry's life at all, separating the mad hatter from his daughter in the curse even though the last time they saw each other the mad hatter helped her and she betrayed him+making him remember his real self for some extra bout of torture, kills a little boy's dad bc the dad didn't want to drop his entire life and move into town so that she could fulfill her sudden dreams of motherhood, then later taunts that boy when he's an adult about how she killed his dad.

and what happened to her with daniel and cora's abuse is definitely really bad, it just doesn't even come close to justifying any of this for me. she didn't need to marry snow's dad. she gets rid of cora and sends her to wonderland before she's married. she stays because she likes the feeling of magic and the idea of being queen (rumple is obviously a huge part of why she turned out the way she did, "hooking" her on a magic which ouat tries to compare to drug use, but the murderous intent was in her before she even met him).

and then her redemption. hooo boy. it starts in season 2, with her just deciding not to actively do harm because she wants henry to love her. not a bad start. then she tries to destroy the well that snow and emma want to come back from (to be fair, she does this to stop cora, but she knows emma and snow dying is a possibility and is very cool with this bc it'll make her henry's only mom). she then is upset that everyone in town isn't automatically cool with her, for some reason gets credit for "saving" snow and emma (from a trap! that she! set!), and when cora does come back, she teams up with her. like. the lady who actually killed daniel and ruined regina's life. that lady. teams up with her. stands by as her mother kills snow's nanny even though they already got what they wanted. and THEN she's angry that snow had the nerve to do to cora what regina's done to dozens of people and kill her.

and then for the rest of the show there's just no point where there's time for regina's redemption because they're always dealing with the next villain. peter pan, then zelana, then the snow queen, so on and so forth. at some point she's just decided to be redeemed and anyone who argues with that point either changes their mind or is portrayed by the narrative as a villain. some of her one liners that a lot of the fandom think are so cool make me beyond angry LMAO like she tells david "i will not be given parenting advice by a man who shipped his daughter off in a box" GIRL??? BECAUSE OF YOU??? the show continuously pushes the blame onto snow and david (but especially snow) for giving emma up as though they had a choice. regina knew about rumple's prophecy. she knew snow and charming's daughter would break the curse. she was not gonna let that baby live if snow and charming hadn't sent her away.

snow and charming and emma's characters are all completely turned into dust for her too. emma is forced to grovel because she brought back a woman from the past that regina wrongfully executed bc it happens to be maid marian. snow and charming do uncharacteristic "evil" things so that they can be like "see! they're all good and bad!" when even ooc snow and charming's worst doesn't compare to regina's best.

[keter-kan]

Okay!! I've been working on something for a really long time with some oc's that are near and dear to my heart ♡ I've gotten quite a bit already written, a bit less edited. I'm thinking of doing some more in-depth posts about the characters and their lore, if anyone would be interested! Possible first chapter post tomorrow?

Also, you're not allowed to make fun of me for the shit formatting of this post. I'll figure it out eventually, I swear.

tw: heavy mentions of sa, p*dophelia, abuse, death, murder

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Broken Legends

Prologue

Leandra’s father abused her as a child, but everyone could see that clear as day. The people knew of the king’s predilection for little girls, but none seemed to care enough to do much about it. Either that, or their fear was too great to intervene. Blood right, birth right, sovereign right, whatever they wanted to use as an excuse for the deranged, disgusting behavior of the man whose father’s father staked his claim on the coastal kingdom of Aphoreum.

He never touched his son; little boys weren’t his taste. He rarely touched his wife—may her soul flow freely—but she certainly seemed to keep him in line. Until her death, there was a restraint to him that withered away as she did; rotting and leaving a smell no one could erase from his soul.

Queen Imogen died under seemingly un-mysterious circumstances. She didn’t fall suddenly ill after a lifetime of health, she didn’t claim abuse, and she certainly didn’t suspect that someone quite close to her could be the cause of her failing body. Everyone mourned for the appropriate period of time.

Everyone except the children, of course. They still find themselves mourning the idea of a mother they could barely remember. To Leandra, her mother was strong and wise, the way a woman should be. To her older brother, Callum, there was the abandonment of the only woman who would unconditionally love him. She chose to remember a legacy, while he was bound to the anger he felt towards the undeserving dead.

The first child, the original heir, was sickly; an affliction seen often in the more recent royal blood. Really, though, the only difference from the royal blood and that of all peasants was its incestuous nature. That was something the Terrance Reign brought back to the royal line after nearly a century of free marriages.

Heir to Aphoreum, Prince Terance VIII, died peacefully in his sleep on the night of his tenth birthday. Those who said his mother killed him to give him a better life soon found their heads in burlap sacks, so not many say that anymore. It was soon after Terance was dead that their mother went to join him.

Callum was named the successor to the throne just a day after his mother’s funeral. After the grand ceremony, as the succession of High Councilors and Noblemen kissed the stones at Callum’s feet, Leandra’s father took her away where no one would see for the first time.

From that moment forward, Leandra had a new understanding of her place in the palace. While her brother grew up to become the king he wasn’t meant to be, her father taught her what being a woman of royal blood really meant: when her brother left on his journey to become a man, she would go with him and ensure pure heirs.

Aphoreum’s soul was born of the blood shed by those who fought and killed the demons plaguing the land. Countless villages were saved, small kingdoms sprouting throughout. As men pushed forward, demons fled back to the oceans, leaving Aphoreum to be conquered by whoever was left. At least, this is what was taught to the people.

There are thousands of dusty and cracked scrolls of parchment scattered throughout all cities and towns in Aphoreum containing the history of the land; how the Gods rewarded us with lush fields and bountiful rivers for banishing all of their enemies to the sea. That is, to this day, where they are said to dwell.

Things started crumbling at the end of Aphoreum’s War, started by none other than Terrance the First. It took five generations, yet they reigned victorious. For the first time since anyone could remember, the entirety of Aphoreum was ruled under one king. None of the other prior kingdoms were proud of that. With their previous rulers executed during the Reckoning—the day Aphoreum’s War was officially won—they fell into disarray. Villages plundered, women sold to richer men, entire ways of life decimated under the fist of a barbarian king. For King Terrance VII, the duty to uphold total power over all of Aphoreum was a goal only completed by the iron fist of his forebearers. He held to the pride of men who fought for honor while he sat upon his plush throne.

Leandra was literate thanks to an old wetnurse that her father had killed when she was eleven. Once she was no longer needed to feed Leandra’s bastard half siblings, she was sent with the Wind. After that, the only person ever present in Leandra’s life was High Councilor Jonas, a man who never touched her unless to pat the top of her head. He taught her of Natural Chaos and what tarnishes the soul, but he also taught her that there are good odds and ends in the world, too. She just had to look very hard to see them.

Jonas was the sole educator of both Leandra and Callum, but also their father before them. He was a truce sent from the church to Terrance VI, begging him to forgive them for not modifying their scripture the first time he asked. After Grandpa Terrance killed the High Priest residing in the palace chapel, they changed their tune. Jonas, however, understood the weight of the duty he’d been assigned. To teach the young is to mold the innocent in whatever way you see fit. But not every child is as easily molded. Terrance was a child full of hate, instilled in him by his own violent father. Callum seemed to be taking after his father in more ways than one, although Jonas continued every day to try to stray him from that path. Leandra, however, was different.

Before being sent to the palace, Jonas’s congregation of High Councilors—beknown to him or not—swore upon themselves that they would right the wrongs of the Natural Chaos afflicting the royal blood, whether that be by violence or sacrifice or any other means necessary. This was a promise the church sat upon for far too many generations to count if it hadn’t been for the numerals after each king’s name. But they had to bide their time. They had to bend their rules, change their faith, modify their scripture, all to appease the man they planned to overthrow. Another mighty aspect of the Terrance Reign was the slow and steady separation of the church from the crown, an unspoken duty bestowed to each heir as the generations passed.

It was through Jonas that Leandra learned of the world, the scrolls of scripture being her main escape, but not the modified texts of the Terrance Reign. Jonas was molding Leandra to be the savior Aphoreum needed, and this was the beginning.

Leandra would read the stories of the Gods who seemingly abandoned her. She found solace there, between the pages of their legends. The comfort of long forgotten rules set by wrongly worshipped Gods was the only kind of comfort she could afford.

Terrance was of a breed of man who more closely resembled their primal counterparts: feasting, fucking, and fighting. Not much else crossed his mind.

There are those who know better, despite class or background or who sits upon Aphoreum’s throne. But the rage projected by King Terrance found a home in the hearts of his men, creating a society of violence. There were few pockets throughout the kingdom where none could be found, most of which were under attack by those taking after their king.

On the day Callum turned twenty he found himself embarking on just such a conquest, yet one of a much different scale. A Wandering is any man’s rite of passage, giving him a year to stake his claim away from his family someplace else amongst the Waters and Winds. If they never returned after a year’s time, they weren’t ever meant to be a man. With Callum, however, his Wandering was an expedition into the known world with an army at his back and a ship full of wine. As were the odds of all those who could afford it, he would likely return more of a man than those without the gold in their pockets.

It was a simple plan with a grandiose design, allowing a full year of celebration for the future king of Aphoreum. Ships made of the finest timber harvested from the southern coasts, casks of wines and spirits shipped from around Aphoreum, clothes and finery made by request for his highness. With him would go his soon-to-be wife, Leandra.

The relationship Leandra shared with her brother wasn’t one of solidarity. He was to be his father’s spawn as Leandra was to be an instrument in his success. The moments of torture and humiliation caused by her father were in preparation to be used by the future king. Knowing this, she harbored many emotions for him, none of which she understood. She knew he was tainted the same way their father was before him, and their children would be after them, and she prayed that something—anything—could steer her fate in any other direction, for she knew his never would be.

When Jonas approached her after class, crumpled parchment in a High Councilor’s shaking hands, she took it without question. She looked in his eyes and saw the pain he felt, the longing for the Gods to make the world what it once again should be.

When she unfurled the note, she needed no further explanation than what was found there. Stained with the sweat of her mentor’s hands, four simple words bleeding into the page; Jump. You’ll know when.

The final weeks leading to her brother’s Wandering were full of tension. Leandra unfurled the parchment in her hands night after night, feeling the scratches of ink fade away as she rubbed it between her fingers.

Jump.

She could barely contain her excitement. She was going to weasel her way out of the chain of command. The only man who ever truly understood her the way the Gods intended had devised a plan for her to escape.

You’ll know when.

Stiff in her seat at the Grand Table, Leandra watched her plate as the men feasted around her. Tomorrow morning the Wandering would begin, and as the fleet of Aphoreum’s ships left the harbor, she would have to be ready to flee at any moment. She knew what Jonas meant about knowing when: she needed to wait for a message from the Gods. She would pray and worship and fast and deny herself the pleasures of life to prepare herself for the message she knew the Gods would give her. She would be ready.

When the sun rose over the harbor the following morning, Leandra was at peace for the first time since she was last held by her mother. She felt as though there was finally a real purpose to her plight in life and that she would be able to break the mold that her many greats-grandfather had created here. She felt as though she—alone—could crumble the system built by generations of the world’s most appalling men.

They set sail on a glorious day. Callum made a speech just after King Terrance, pushing the entire kingdom into a week-long celebration. Bottles broken, oars heaved, sails unfurled, and they were out of the mouth of harbor in just a few hours’ time.

For the first week of their voyage, Leandra didn’t speak with Callum. Not that he had much to say to her, anyway, besides the remarks of needing to secure an heir before the year’s end. Every night he’d mention it, and every night she’d comply, silently awaiting the sign promised her.

After that first week, Leandra grew a bit restless. And the week that followed that one made her even worse. The further they traveled from Aphoreum, the more the bruises left by her father healed, the more Leandra thought that there wouldn’t be a message, or maybe she had missed it… She started toying with the idea of living a life with her brother and what that could entail for her. She couldn’t stomach the thought of living in a world that her Gods had forsaken, but if she could make her brother see things the way Jonas had intended, maybe there could be a change.

When she finally spoke to her brother, she asked him if he’d care to know her, because, really, they just knew so little of each other.

He said he very much would. He was strong, but he was nervous. He couldn’t ever rule the way his father intended, but he wanted to try.

She said she could help him, if he’d let her.

They were children. What little they could have learned through life was filtered through their father’s vision. But he wasn’t here with them now.

The storm hit just three days from where they would dock. As the rain pelted the decks of the ships and the waves swelled, Callum’s men remained calm. They knew how to work a ship in a storm. For a while, everything remained intact. The fleet, the men, even Leandra.

But the storm became something else. After countless hours of toiling under the whip of rain and wind, the air started to become heavy with the stench of something bigger. As the waves turned from rolling hills to staggering cliffs and the raindrops into daggers, the men started to lose themselves.

The young ones jumped first. Callum was called from his cabin, forced to peel Leandra from his side. As she huddled amongst the furs adorning the mattress, Callum entered into a scene from the pits of the Gods’ hatred.

He was met with a force of nature never defeated by any king. As the ship was flung from one wave to the next, Callum’s men were dropping to their knees and scraping themselves towards the rails, throwing themselves into the raging sea. As he inched over the deck, grabbing the rigging and buckets dropped by his men, he saw a look on their faces that reminded him of his mother’s corpse in her ornate casket; there was no soul within them. Not anymore.

Screams were swallowed by the waves and the winds, words lost and breath wasted. As Callum pleaded with his mean until his throat was bloody and cracked, it overtook him.

She was calling to him. No, no…

Singing.

It was subtle at first, a slow drone playing at the base of his skull, humming away as he grabbed at his men bent on suicide. The more he pleaded, the harder his skull thrummed, filling his head with a desire unknown to man. As the irritation started to spread and his screaming and howling continued to fail, the soft beads of sound started to poke pin-pricks in the humming, driving Callum to gasp and shake with momentary relief before again being swallowed by the desperation. As another wave threw the ship far off course and doused the men in water colder than ice, he broke.

“Mother?”

She was there. Her golden hair cascading down her shoulders, her naked form hovering above the railing of the ship, situated the way a God would be. When Callum locked eyes with her, he felt that she was truly there, waiting for him to reach her.

She called to him, sang to him, cooed over the man he had become. Tears mixed with the rain and sea as they poured down Callum’s cheeks. He slowly made his way towards her.

Leandra emerged from the cabin as the thrumming started to overtake her. Her shift whipping in the wind and her hair matted to her head from the rain, she saw the horrors on deck.

The Gods had sent their message.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, too, but they didn’t get the chance to meet the wood of the ship. Leandra trusted her Gods. She trusted Jonas.

She jumped.

There was no sound as she hit the water. There was no cold embrace of the ocean, no being swallowed by the waves. She let herself be taken fully, succumbing to her fate.

Although she wasn’t expecting pleasure, nor was she expecting the pain.

Hands grabbed at the shift plastered to her skin, ripping it from her body in mere seconds. As the thrumming ceased in the back of her skull, she was taken in a way no one had taken her before. Not the man slaves who lurked after her in the palace, not her brother who she grew to love, not even her father, who defiled her in a way no other living thing could.

While her soul was ripped apart, shredded down to the sand that littered the ocean floor, she knew her Gods had forsaken her.

-

Leandra had no recollection of returning home. One moment she was suffering the pain of all the Natural Chaos, and the next she was dragging herself across the wharf, blood trailing in her wake. The moon was full.

Jonas found her and took her back to her father at the palace.

Her skin was burnt, her hair missing in chunks. Her bones poked through her skin like they wanted to free themselves from its cage. Her eyes drooped in their sunken sockets, unable to comprehend the world around her. She cried her story to Jonas, who begged her father to let a healer see her, even just one from the church. He refused.

For Leandra was with child, and heavily so. Her body, slowly failing her, was feeding something inside of her that wasn’t human.

She was pregnant when Jonas lifted her from the harbor, but the progression of her state was faster than it should’ve been; her stomach bruising and aching and protruding more every day. Her bones became brittle, her legs sitting at crooked angles and her neck unable to support the weight of her head. Upon the next full moon, when the tides were high, Leandra called for Jonas with what little strength she had left.

He leaned down to her ear, her breath almost too light to decipher the words.

“Please,” she whimpered, “don’t let him kill my daughter.”

That night, as her screams of labor began, Jonas pleaded once again with the king. Terrance, with a glare in his eye, allowed for a wetnurse from the palace chapel. He wouldn’t permit anyone besides himself and Jonas in the chambers, let alone a practiced healer. The nurse was the most she would get.

When she arrived, the horror that overcame her hit a part of her soul that hadn’t ever been touched before. The king demanded death to the child upon delivery, bolting the door behind them as he left.

When Jonas asked her to defy him, her soul said yes, as the woman had done for him many times before.

She died without seeing the full moon that night. As her child took their first breath, Leandra took her last.

Her child was a beautiful monster. A writhing mass of body, shifting in form while the wetnurse clung to his mottled skin. Within a moment, the child opened his eyes, and ceased being a monster. He was a baby, covered in his mother’s blood, eyes peering into those of the woman who held him.

When the king asked for proof of the death of the monster upon the following morn, Jonas provided a mangled piglet’s corpse. The wetnurse, covered in cattle entrails, told Terrance it took more work than she’d have thought to kill such a small beast. He was satisfied.

Leandra’s body was burned in the kitchen fires by Jonas’s hand, as Terrance commanded. There would be no funeral. There would be no knowledge of the children who failed at their Wandering. That would be the end of their stories. Terrance would find a concubine to produce a legitimate heir amongst the few cousins he had left. Aphoreum would live on.

But so did Leandra’s child, deep in a forest untouched by man, left in the hands of powerful women that the Gods would grow to fear.

[nightingale2004]

Alina information series: the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe pt.1

Before Alina was born, there was a second prophecy. A prophecy that told of a daughter of Aslan that would be born as a beacon of hope in Narnia, she would help defeat the white witch and ensure the future kings and Queens of Narnia sit on the thrones of Cair Paravel being the light in the dark for Narnia itself

Alina was originally born in a village of former sorcerers who no longer used magic since the white witch came to rule

Alina's village was loyal to one another and looked after each other like family.

After Alina was born, the cold ice winds started getting warmer, which was a sign that the guardian of the new Kings and Queens of Narnia was born sending a small beacon of hope to narnians near and far

When the winds reached the white witch, she immediately sent out her guards to every corner of the narnian icelands to look for the child, including herself

When Jadis was close, Jadis laid waste to Alina's village, killing and turning all those who hid the location of Alina and her mother into stone as a crime against the "Queen" of Narnia

Alina's mother ran into the woods to try and escape the queen with Alina in her arms, trying to find a safe place for them both.

When Alina's mother encountered the lamppost, she remembered her dream that Aslan came to her and told her that the journey her daughter would take would have to begin without her.

At first, Alina's mother didn't understand until she saw that lamppost, and so, she left Alina and ran to draw Jadis's attention to her

Alina, after a few minutes in the cold, was sent into the earthworld by the roaring distant winds of Aslans roar and at the doorsteps of Professor Kirk's home, where Alina was raised by Macready and Professor Digory Kirke

As Alina grew up, she was alone as a child except the occasional tea time with the professor.

But then, one day, while she was playing, she accidentally broke one of the professors' artifacts, which alerted Macready. So Alina ran to the room with the wardrobe to hide until Macready calmed down (which would take a loooong time)

As she went deeper into the wardrobe, she encountered the land of Narnia where she met Mr. Tumnus and had tea with him.

When Alina first stepped into Narnia, everyone immediately felt it. The winds grew warm, and the sun even showed itself. Mr. Tumnus even felt her warmth, and he immediately assumed who she was.

When the white witch felt the warm winds, she knew what it meant and immediately sent her scouts to find the source

Mr. Tumnus did consider turning Alina to the Queen, but he then saw a sign from Aslan and then immediately escorted Alina back to safety to the lamp post

When Alina went back to the earthworld, the winds of Narnia were cold once more in her absence.

When Alina went back, she tried to go back to Narnia, but the wardrobe was back to being a normal wardrobe.

Every day after she came back to the earthworld, she would go to the wardrobe and try to find a way to get back to Narnia

She continued to visit the wardrobe until she was 11.

Eventually, she forgot to go to the wardrobe and started thinking she was just imagining things and that the snowy world of Narnia was a dream

That was until the Pevensie siblings came into her life

[applecidersstuff]

It had been six thousand years, but she’d only had around a hundred bodies and identities. It wasn’t hard in the beginning, humans didn’t bother to write things down or record people they’d been living with, so whenever they started suspecting something she just moved. Then humans started to bother with those things. They did change a couple times, sometimes to blend in, sometimes to have more freedom, sometimes to see what her “old lot” had been up to.

But it wasn’t really hard until the witch hunts.

Village women started to notice that she didn’t age. They told their husbands that she was a witch; it wasn’t hard to believe, she had red hair and collected herbs, not for potions, simply because she liked the smell. Although she did help a boy who had flu, when they lived in Rome their friend taught them how to make herbal tea which helped. They burned her at the stake, they burned their God alive in the name of said god. Then there was a thought in their head: “Maybe I’m not the god they worship, anymore? Maybe he’s the one they call god..” She didn’t have any thoughts anymore, not until she appeared seven years later on the doorstep of a nunnery.

During their time on earth they left many of their signs, but every life she lived, she made sure to place more. She didn’t know how many those “representatives” found. They didn’t want to know.

Nunnery was nice, they hid there for almost a century. It was easy, she just made everyone believe that she was a new person, every couple of decades, and her “old self” would be quickly forgotten. But one nun didn’t forget. She wasn’t a sister, her status was Mother. Mother Antonia, that’s what they called her. They noticed that Mother was watching them, her eyes were almost saying: “ I know what you are, I know that all of you are one.” They left “Chattering Order of St. Berrill” at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Mother Antonia was the one to see them off, her eyes passed the view and focused on them, at least that was what they felt, they never really saw her face, they always assumed that she didn’t have any eyes and that was why she wore a veil. Too tall for a woman from that time, too weird to still be alive and not burning on the stake as a witch. She didn’t seem to be in place then.

When she said her goodbyes to sisters and was almost at the bottom of the stairs, Mother called her. Sisters were back inside, but she was standing at the top of the stairs, her veil thrown back, red hair sticking out a little from under the headwear, her eyes - bright yellow, with vertical pupils - staring right at them. Those eyes they remembered for a long time, those eyes that said “I knew you wouldn’t do that, I knew he wasn’t you. I know who you are, Almighty.”

They didn’t see that angel for so long, they were at fault for what happened.

It was just one identity for a hundred years. They decided to change it not long until the French Revolution. The angel was again there, but he didn’t recognize them this time. They stole bread from some man that went to look at the Queen's death. Then the angel vanished.

It was 1827 if they remember it correctly. It was one of the times when they really became their identity. Elspeth was poor young lady who lived in Edinburg. They met wee Morag in 1824, she was a window, with no children, so she had no right for her late husband’s money. They didn’t make many friends through their life, but wee Morag was different, she was more than a friend. Last they had friends in the nunnery, almost two hundred years ago, so they’ve decided to give that a chance. They figured that if they would find a corpse she could get some money. That’s when they run into both of them. The last time she’d seen them together was in Rome, never since. But now both “representatives” were here.

One of them volunteered to help her with the body, other one started telling him how wrong it was. They wanted to punch him, but you can’t hit an angel, can you?

Later they couldn't remember much about what happened after. Or at least do it clearly.

It was rage that filled her up. It was a perfectly fine body until that "representative" got in the way. Now it was ruined, useless.

And after that those two had the audacity to show up and tell her that they would help her?! They didn’t want to agree, they did it for Morag, but maybe it was best if they didn’t.

Then they shut down, they had no thoughts, no ideas, no emotions, just memories and pain where their heart would have been. She wanted to destroy this place, destroy them. Erase those two from existence and never look back. But they couldn’t, those desires were buried deep inside their mind. They were like a puppet whose strings were cut. Elspeth didn’t feel that way. She knew what to do, so they let her do it.

They made themselves take control back only when they realized that one of the “representatives” was trying to drink the poison.

“Why it was even there?”

They couldn’t remember. It was probably something Elspeth was planning.

She tried to stop him. They didn’t know why, but maybe it was guilt? Guilt for the things they’ve messed up, for lives they’ve ruined.

They shut down again when something in their brain said that poison isn’t lethal for eternal beings. Elspeth was in charge again, she didn’t need to worry any more.

The next thing they remember? She was gasping for air between a couple of gravestones, pain felling up her chest.

People turn to god when their loved ones die, they beg god for help. But who should God turn to? Who should they beg?

Wee Morag died, they had money now but that wasn’t something they wanted, they wanted to have peace for at least a lifetime, with Morag. They wanted to run from that life. But it was hard, hard to leave it all behind.

On the money she got from angel “representative,” she bought land, a lot of it, and a couple decades later opened an orphanage. They got rid of the body they had before and pretended to be an orphan. There was an epidemic of tuberculosis during the 1870s, she got affected.

The doctor headmistress called appeared to be one of the representatives. That body, that identity died then. and that was the last time they'd seen either of them for quite some time.

They’ve spent the entire 20th century in America and France, they appeared as an actress, an activist, an artist, college student, and a backer once. That century was one when they had the most identities, yes some of them were combined, but it was still much more than they had before. Maybe that was why “representatives” couldn’t find her. Eventually they started to restore the body they had in Rome, she was a priestess back then, and had some knowledge about how to avoid the spirits. The thing that proved to be useful was “evil eye” a little peace of jewelry that they carried around. They got panicked when “representatives” appeared there, so they covered their arms and upper back with those symbols. There were other ones that could’ve helped her, like the one they learned even before the flood, people they’ve lived with back them showed her symbols that were supposed to hide them from the Metatron, and let them speak to God directly. She’d made a couple of those too.

By the beginning of the 21st century, they were again guarded by their tattoos and jewelry. They changed their body a bit to appear younger and returned to London.

They had money but got bored of doing nothing eventually, so she got a job in a local café.

Nina was a nice boss, they became friends in no time, then they befriended Maggie. But she still couldn’t bring herself to talk with that “representative” who lived across the street.

One day, a naked man appeared right in front of the bookshop, then a couple other people. They weren’t people, of course, they were angels and a few demons.

It seemed normal until He appeared, then it all went nuts.

[axolotlonamelon]

The Story of the Calamity Box

From the Amphibian Perspective

No one truly knows where the Calamity Gems come from, their existence being lost to myth and faded to forgottenness by all but a select few. One of those that remember was Valerina, a salamander who found the gems and used them to power a music box that could open portals to other dimensions. She presented it to her king so that Amphibia could benefit from interdimensional travel and trade with other sentient life.

What the salamander didn't know is that those that remain in contact with the box for too long begin to see visions (of the past, present, future, and of other dimensions) that have the potential to drive them mad. This happened to the king, Atlas Leviathan, who became even more paranoid of these other dimensions and began a hundreds of years long conquest of other worlds, raising his descendants to do the same.

When he died, he preserved his consciousness in the box and was able to communicate with his living descendants, who all did the same. This collective became known as The Night. These traditions continued through ten monarchs before the reign of King Andrias.

On the day of his coronation, one of his best friends, Leif Plantar, killed the queen and stole the box and escaped in an act of treason never before seen. Barrel the Bold, Andrias’ personal guard, was blamed for allowing this to occur and banished to the outskirts where he would defend toad villages until the day he died. Leif, meanwhile, sought sanctuary from an olm friend, Eidothea the Wise (Mother Olm), and together they hid the box in another dimension.

What they didn't know that just a thousand years later, the box would be stolen by a group of kids who would present the box to the very monster they risked everything to steal it from.

How The Box Came to be

The Cosmic Axolotl and another interdimensional being were talking about the effect powerful magical being could have on Earth. They predict that, if the Earth's ambient magical aura were to increase or a powerful enough magical being were to enter this dimension, dangerous beings from other dimensions could see Earth as a new player in the interdimensional sphere. 

In order to protect Earth from conquest and/or complete destruction, they condensed all of the ambient magic of Earth into four small round gems. Minimizing their aura and hiding them would allow Earth to remain under the radar until the humans could be ready for that attention. 

Each stone took a different aspect of being and both developed asterism (the thing that distinguishes a star sapphire from a regular sapphire) and turned a different color as a result: The quartz that absorbs mind became teal, body became pink, heart became indigo, and soul became yellow.

In order to nudge the human race into the right direction to eventually become a player on the interdimensional board, The Cosmic Axolotl places the stones in a small ceramic jar in the home of a creative and good person who reminds them a little of a shooting star of a girl. This person, instead of discovering that these gems were magic, they decided to set the four into a music box they were making.

They finished the music box but when they go to test it, the box disappears.

Key:

The other interdimensional god-like being: Glossaryck

The powerful magical being on Earth: Star Butterfly

The shooting star of a girl: Mabel Pines

The creative and good-hearted person who made the music box: Hailey Banks

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Eleven

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it. 

Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-Consentual Explicit Material.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.5k

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When you woke up from your deep slumber, you found yourself snuggled against the softest sheets imaginable and feeling more rested than you had in years. Your eyelids fluttered and you fully opened your eyes. Dark shimmering fabric met your eyes and confusion overtook your mind. Pushing yourself up, you looked at what you were laid out on and blanched. This wasn’t your bed, and looking around, you surely weren’t in your room. Your hands scratched at your body only to find that you were naked as a newly born babe. Your face flooded with heat and you snatched the shimmering black sheets to your chest, covering your naked body. You certainly felt awake now. You were in an unknown place with no clothes. How the hell did you get here?

You looked around the room, noting that it was large and castle-looking, with softly glowing candles mounted on the wall. Dragging the sheet from the bed, you wrapped it firmly around your body and moved to poke around. There was a little sitting room and a wall of windows with French doors that let natural light into the room. Interested to see if you could recognize something, you peered outside the windows. 

“What the bloody hell,” You whispered as your eyes were met with a fantasy-like landscape. Of course, you could recognize mountains and forests, even the waters that shimmered at the base of the castle you apparently werein. But what had you flabbergasted was the design of the castle you could see and the townspeople who milled around in the village at the base of the castle. Was that a human-sized cat? That looked like one of the wild things from the book ‘Where the Wild Things Are’. “I’m going crazy,”

“Do you really think that?” You spun around, clutching the sheet closer to your body at his voice. Upon seeing him, you did your best not to turn into a floundering or flushing mess. His eyes drifted along your covered body and you tightened your grip on the bedsheet. It was clear that he was appreciating your body, even if he couldn’t see the physicalities of it at the moment. 

“Where am I?” You questioned, glad that your voice was managing to remain steady despite your situation. “Where have you taken me? Better yet, who the bloody hell are you!” He prowled forwards, looking at you like a predator hunting prey: hungrily. When he reached you, he gazed down at you with that nova-like gaze that you could feel in the very center of your being. You could feel the echoes of his touch on your body, both the rough and the light. A shudder went through you when he leaned down. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He spoke softly to you. “King of Dreams and Nightmares, Prince of Stories, Lord of The Dreaming, and the one you have promised yourself to.” You had no idea who Dream of the Endless was, but you were quick to understand his title of King of Dreams and Nightmares. “And you, my priestess, have been kept from me ever since you tried breaking me out of my confines deep within that manor.”

“What?” You had no recollection of attempting such a thing. Surely you would remember him. He reached up and brushed your cheek. 

“Why do you think they didn’t want you coming back?” He said, his words brushing over your lips. “Was it not enough to have me trapped for over a century, but they had to take away the one person who showed me an ounce of kindness? You put the first crack in my cage and gave your dreams to me willingly. You are my priestess, Y/N, mine.” 

You didn’t remember any of that, but something in your gut told you that what he said was true. It was no wonder your mother had you put on dream suppressants for 15 years, she was trying to protect you from him. This changed everything, explained everything, they didn’t want you back because they were trying to protect you. Something within his eyes changed and like a rogue wave, his eyes blazed with rage as he pressed forward in anger. 

“You think you need protecting from me?” He hissed out, his anger at the insinuation near palpable. You shrunk back in fear and he was soon gripping the side of your face. “Have I ever given you cause to fear me? It seems that I will need to enforce my reverence for you, repeatedly, until you realize my complete and utter devotion to you my little priestess.” He was growling now, angry that you had suggested such a thing as him being a threat to you. 

“I— I— Dream this is—“ Your lips sputtered for word as his face pressed closer, his nose nearly brushing against yours. You could feel the heat and desire radiating from his pale and marble-like skin. 

“You will call me Morpheus.” He darkly commanded you, his gaze now all-consuming, possessively bearing down into yours until he was all you could see. Endless galaxies and stars swirling around silver and blue. “Yes!?” You nodded eagerly, not wanting to push him any further. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Word, my love. Use them.”

“Yes, Morpheus,” You breathed out as fast you could to appease the Endless. His vice-like grip didn’t ease up, but he, at the very least, looked satisfied now. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip, pressing down and dragging across it as if relishing the softness. 

“Again,” He demanded, like you speaking his name was pure ecstasy for him. It was. 

“Yes, Morpheus,” You repeated obediently. He called for you to do so a third time and you did. His eyes briefly closed, relishing his name rolling off your tongue like the sweetest nectar in the known universe. No one said his name as you did. No one. Morpheus leaned his forehead against yours. Your next breath hitched in your throat. 

“You belong to me, my love, my Y/N, you have since you first spilled blood for me.” He whispered, his words caressing your lips in a sweet draw. Morpheus released your lip and traced his thumb down your chin to your throat, then his hand encompassed the column in a light grip. “I have been robbed of you for fifteen years and I will not spend a second more without you.”  

You didn’t know what to say to that, and it scared you to think about what he wanted to do to you. A shuddering breath made your entire body tremble against his, and in seconds Morpheus was lifting your body from the floor and swiftly crossing the room. You didn’t even have time to register what was happening before your back hit soft sheets and the very sheet you had been using to cover yourself was all but ripped from your body. You gasped with a squawk and tried to reach for the remaining sheet to recover your naked body, only to see dark eyes blaze with mercury. The sheet dissolved away, leaving you with nothing. Your arms dove down to cover yourself, your left arm across your breasts and your right hand to cover your cunt. 

“Morpheus, please, I—“ You cut off as mercury eyes landed on yours and you could see the wild anger that boiled in his star-soaked eyes. 

“Do not hide yourself from me, my love,” He spoke to you, running a hand along your naked side, stroking your skin with such delicacy that one might think he was caressing the finest of silks. To him, you were more precious than anything��money could buy. He was going to lavish you through until you realized just how much you meant to him. You were the one who had devoted yourself and yet Morpheus would do the worshipping. You would see the error of your ways soon enough, but in the meantime, Morpheus was starving and you were the only thing that could sate his appetite. 

“I didn’t ask for any of this, this has to be some sort of mistake!” You violently protested, wiggling in place and trying to roll away from him. In an instant his body was dropping down on top of yours, preventing you from sliding out from under his. Your body squirmed against his jeans and his jacket, and your hands reached up to push at his shoulders. You strained your neck to put your face as far from his as possible. Morpheus pressed his lips against your neck, placing kiss after kiss along your skin, feeling your racing heartbeat beneath your skin. Your offered neck all but beckoned Morpheus to dine. The moment Morpheus’s lips parted to suckle and lave at your flesh, your body went taut and a strained moan passed through your lips. His mouth sank into your throat and painted your skin until color bloomed and you were squirming uncontrollably, pushing at his shoulders and kicking your legs out while making periodic soft whimpers fall from your lips. Morpheus brushed his lips up your neck, nuzzling the places where your pulse raced. He kissed your chin and reached up with a hand to force your eyes back to him. Your eyes were filled with fear. 

“You did ask for this, my love, but your mind has been so twisted and manipulated that you no longer remember.” You blinked rapidly and a few stray tears slipped from your eyes. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” You breathlessly whispered, feeling frozen beneath his intense gaze. “This is just a dream and I need to wake up, wake up, Y/N, wake up.” Morpheus’s mouth twitched in the corner at your words. You still thought this to be a dream? Your mother had twisted your mind worse than he thought… Morpheus had a grand task ahead of him. Leaning down, Morpheus kissed away your tears. 

“You have nothing to fear from me,” He whispered, brushing his lips over yours. You jerked against him once more, straining to free yourself from his entrapment. It was a useless endeavor because it was like trying to push a marble block, uphill. With the languidness of a serpent, Morpheus dragged his lips down your throat to pepper your breasts with love and attention. You bucked against him, your hips scraping against jeans and jacket once more. Your struggles were nearly useless and your energy waned, soon enough you were sagging against the bed with a defeated noise. Morpheus shushed you gently from where he was tracing your hip bone with his lips. 

Your fingers curled into the rough fabric at his shoulders, clawing and dragging downwards as Morpheus’s hot mouth explored your thigh, pressing sharp bites between sweet suckles and gentle kisses. Another whimper passed through your lips and your leg twitched in his grasp. Your eyes drifted downwards to see Morpheus nuzzling your tender skin which already bore the markings of his dark love. His eyes lifted to meet yours and you shivered in fright, feeling the breath from your lungs escape you as intense silver conveyed total and complete obsession. 

“Do you not see how your body reacts to me?” He murmured, his right hand caressing your other thigh and deeply stroking further upwards until his thumb glided right through your cunt. Your body stiffed once more as an explosion of sensations rippled through your cunt and your body reacted on its own, betraying you in the worst way. It wanted more, and Morpheus knew that. You felt ashamed at your reactions to his sinful ministrations but he only seemed to be pleased by it. “Do not protest what is only natural for someone of your position.” He further stroked your cunt, pressing and rolling this thumb over your clit. Your eyes rolled back slightly and a triumphant look crossed Morpheus’s face, your resistance was finally crumbling. He withdrew his damp fingers from your cunt and dropped his hand back to your thigh in a tight grip. Then his mouth, voracious and eager to explore your flesh, dove between your trembling thighs, and once again, he feasted. 

You felt his tongue swipe over your clit and cried out, your teeth once again sinking into the flesh of your lip. His grip on your thighs tightened against the twists and turns of your body, surely leaving behind imprints of his fingers on your untouched flesh. Your sweet scent was driving him crazy and your taste already had him hooked on you. It wasn’t long before your hand was descending to his obsidian hair, burying into the soft strands as your muffled cries of ecstasy fed his appetite. Your skin felt as if it was sweltering with fire and that fire was making it hard for you to breathe. Feeling your nails scraping against his scalp and tugging at the strands in your grasp, a soft growl of appeasement rumbled from Morpheus’s chest. Finally, finally, you were reacting to him rather than resisting, and oh how you fell apart beneath him. 

From the taste of your nectar on his tongue to your uncontrollable writhes against his mouth, you were a goddess that was quickly falling to pieces. But he had made a promise to both himself and you, Morpheus would not allow you the pleasure of release until he was sheathed within your body and connected to you in a way only he could be. So with great restraint, he pulled back from your quivering body. He watched as you all but fell back against the bed with a strained gurgle, your hand limp in his hair and your chest heaving as you sucked in air. You looked exquisite stretched out, and it took everything in his being not to ravish you further. The very scent coming from your body was enough to make his cock twitch, never mind the fact Morpheus had you entirely naked and your taste was fresh on his tongue. Morpheus leaned over you and brushed sweaty strands of hair away from your forehead, allowing his fingers to linger along the path of your temple to the curve of your cheek. Your face was flushed as you refused to look at him. 

“Everything will be as it should be soon enough, my love,” He whispered, pressing his lips against your forehead. You refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing another pitiful sound come from your trembling lips. “I will give you the release you seek, but only when our bodies are one,” Another trickle of fear ran down your spine. This nightmare seemed to be never-ending, and the longer it lasted, the more you started to think it was reality. Morpheus pulled away and stared deeply into your eyes, making sure you kept that eye contact. “And when I fill you with my seed you shall be more than just my priestess, you will be my queen.” This time you couldn’t hold in the whimper. 

Date Published: 11/30/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Annie Cresta Week Day 4: Queen of Crafts

The District Four Hunger Games Training Academy is a buzzkill in many ways, but Annie doesn’t know anyone who does birthdays better. 

Birthdays are a big deal at the Academy because every year is precious. That’s why they do what they do. Volunteers keep the young and vulnerable children safe from the arena, and the responsibility is only given to those who can handle it. 

That’s what she used to think, anyway. A lot has changed since she left the arena.

Even with all the fuss around birthdays, she’s never actually had to give a present to someone. That was done communally back at the Academy, with everyone pitching in. They didn’t exactly have an excess of gifts, but nobody really cared about that. 

Victor’s Village, with more money they could ever need, is a completely different game. 

“We could cook her dinner,” Finnick is saying, lounging on Annie’s couch. He’s just returned from an obviously exhausting trip to the Capitol, but happily agreed to help her out. Maybe he needs the distraction. “Or clean her house.”

“Her house is clean,” Annie reminds him. “And we’re trying to give Mags a birthday present, not poison her.”

Finnick shrugs. “Our cooking would be a gift to this earth.”

Annie stifles a laugh. “I’m trying to be serious here. We never gave presents back at the Academy. I don’t even remember how. And everyone in the Village is rich and definitely has a better idea of what to get Mags than I do.”

“It’s not a competition,” he says. “And I’ve known Mags for ten years and I don’t know what to get her.”

Her eyes flicker downward before landing back on Finnick. “That’s different. You’re…busy.”

“So are you,” he counters. “We’ve all been where you are. We all know how long it takes to even start to get better. Nobody’s judging you, I promise.”

“I don’t know,” says Annie, shifting in her seat. “Coral kind of looks like she’s judging me.”

“She looks like that with everyone,” he replies with an easy shrug. How does he make everything seem so effortless? “So that’s either just what she looks like, or she’s judging everyone. Either way, not your problem.”

Annie’s eyes roam the room the way they still do periodically. She’s mentally scanning for threats, watching the exits, that sort of thing. Nothing comes of it anymore. Except today, her eyes land on her piano, sitting quietly across the room. “Finnick,” she says, and he follows her gaze. 

“Annie,” he echoes dramatically. “Have I ever told you that you’re a genius?”

“You haven’t,” she says, bubbling with excitement. “But feel free to repeat it as much as you want.”

Annie can’t call herself a musical expert, but she has been playing the piano as her victory talent for months now. Eons ago, before she started training at the Academy, her mother would play. Some of it has stuck with her even all these years later. 

She fiddles around with the keys for a while, finding a melody she likes. It can’t be too complicated, but hopefully Mags will appreciate the thought. 

“You write poetry, right?” she asks Finnick. At his nod, she says, “Okay, so I write the music and you write the lyrics, then we have a birthday song.”

“I’m happy to use my poetry for such a good cause.”

Writing a song is easier said than done, but it’s a good thing they’re victors with endless time on their hands. Annie nudges Finnick awake when he slumps over the piano keys, and Finnick pulls her out of whatever spiral of self-doubt she’s worked herself into. Who is she to think she can write a song, anyway? 

Then again, she did survive the Hunger Games, and this is certainly an easier thing to do. 

They go slowly, line by line, until they’ve created a song that’s about one minute in duration. “Do you think Mags will like it?” Annie asks once they’ve finished. “You know her better than I do.”

His responding smile is tired but elated. “I think Mags will be impressed that we managed to pull this off.”

“We could invite her over for dinner to show her the song,” she suggests. 

Finnick gives a hum of agreement. “Wait, Annie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can either of us actually sing?”

She looks at him then, and it’s clear they’re both coming to the same realization. The hour is so late that she’s too tired to do anything but dissolve into laughter. “Shit.”

[eyitzme]

ᵖʳⁱⁿᶜᵉˢˢ'ˢ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳˢ ;; ᵈʳᵈᵗ ⁽ˣᵃⁿʳᵉⁱ⁾

Summary: Having personal guards is so annoying, but since Xander Matthews is the only one protecting her at night, Arei Nageishi can tolerate it. Warning: DRDT Spoilers (Arei's backstory) Word Count: 2,521 A/N: I meant to post this yesterday to celebrate the end of DRDT’s hiatus, but I got distracted by the actual episode. Anyway, let’s go, we’re going to find out Arei’s killer soon! Can’t wait to see if I’m right or not about my culprit theory, especially since the person I’m the most suspicious of is on, like, everyone else’s innocent list, but I might as well ride it out with that theory until the actual killer becomes clear (I think it’s Whit, by the way. I also thought David might be an accomplice, but that theory may or may not have been ruined with the new episode).

it’s my command!

Supposedly, rumours of the two eldest princesses of the kingdom being sent away for drastic misbehaviour was bad for the kingdom’s reputation. That was what Princess Arei Nageishi was told when her older twin sisters were sent off. As the king and queen, her father and mother were sending out word that they were being sent to stay with family to help understand the lives of others better. Nothing mentioning starting fires near rural villages, messing up trade routes so villagers couldn’t get as many necessities as they should, or any of the other things her sisters did for fun.

Obviously, Arei knew nothing about it. She was the innocent younger princess. Disliked by many, yes, but also the one who had done nothing wrong, in contrast to her cruel older sisters. In her parents’ eyes, she had to stay that way to preserve the royal family’s reputation. That made them come up with the idea that she needed personal guards.

Arei didn’t like it. She didn’t need anyone to watch over her for every hour of the day. She didn’t need multiple people doing that job every hour of the day. Fortunately, her nights were spent with only one guard outside her chambers, but having personal guards itself was so annoying. They probably had better things to do anyway, so if she didn’t want them here, they could go somewhere else! She didn’t even want to do anything destructive anyway! Not anymore, at least.

At least she could have her pick at who could be guarding her chambers at night. She couldn’t remember half of her personal guards’ names and could barely remember what all of them looked like, but she knew Xander Matthews. He would never snitch to anyone about anything she did as long as it wasn’t disruptive, unlike all the others who thought their job was to tell her parents the exact moment she went to the bathroom. That meant she could bother him for as much as she wanted!

Annoying people in the castle’s long hallways wasn’t fun, though. If either of her parents found her—or worse, if both of them did—she would get scolded for at least 10 minutes about how her sisters were disappointments to the family, and she couldn’t join them. It was ironic since they called her the disappointment of the family plenty of times before her sisters were sent off, but they apparently had to show love for at least one of their daughters to keep up the appearance of a loving royal family, even if that daughter was her.

Luckily, her chambers were private enough! The only people allowed coming into it were anyone there to clean, but they couldn’t stay around for long or else they would have to face her. Her parents never came into her bedchambers unless she gave them specific permission to, and she could count on one hand how many times she did that! Especially since there were no snitches to run to her parents, Arei could have Xander inside there with her all she wanted!

One of the things she liked most about guards were their swords that they wore all the time. They were so sharp but so light. Arei was sure she could be pretty good at dealing with swords if she tried. That was why she always asked Xander to hold his sword every night he came into her chambers. Today was the first time he actually let her.

Arei sliced the sword through the air, the sword’s blade looking bright even in the very dim lighting. Xander warned, sitting at her desk, “Careful not to hit anything. If you mark something, your parents might realize I come here, and they’ll reassign me at best.”

“I didn’t know you liked coming here,” Arei responded while she continued swinging his sword. He didn’t have to worry about her hitting anything. She spent, like, five minutes with it. She was basically be a knight now!

“You force me to come here,” he reminded.

“And you like it!” She swung the end of the sword to barely touch his neck. He didn’t flinch. Well, she would get him to flinch with her amazing swordsmanship skills one of these days. “Anyway, you shouldn’t have given me this.”

“I know,” he replied. “Now, you’ll hold today over my head and keep bothering me more to let you touch my sword.”

“I will,” she admitted, “but I’m a princess! Your princess. You’re meant to follow my orders!”

“The only orders I’m supposed to follow are your parents’, specifically the ones that keep you safe.” Xander moved the tip of his sword away from his neck. “I’m already failing at my job since I’m letting you do this.”

“It’s not unsafe if I don’t do anything that isn’t safe!”

“You just holding it would be unsafe in your parents’ eyes.”

“Then it’s good they’re not here!” Arei swung her sword at one of her bed’s four pillars. It grazed against the wood and left a thin line paler than the dark wood surrounding it.

They both went closer to inspect it. Xander ran his finger over it. She noticed they were long. “Someone is going to ask you why that mark is there.”

“I was feeling bored,” Arei suggested, “so I looked through my stuff. I flung one of my old earrings around, so it might’ve made that scratch.”

“You don’t wear earrings,” he reminded, pointing to her ears.

She covered her ears with her hands and found herself wondering if he preferred girls with earrings. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have a lot of earrings from when everyone thought I would because every other girl who ever existed did. I can just say I was trying to throw them out.”

“You never throw anything out.”

“I do! You just never see me doing it.”

“You’re throwing your stuff out when it’s the other guards’ shifts?”

“I definitely do!” She just happened to not throw everything out. It wasn’t her fault she received a lot of gifts because she was a princess. Even the one no one liked could achieve that.

Xander sighed, his focus going back to the scratch. “Even though that story is unrealistic, it’s better than the real one... Give me my sword back.”

Arei reluctantly handed it over. Now what was she going to swing around her chambers? Her pillow?

Xander sheathed his sword. “It’s getting late, Your Majesty. You should start getting ready to go to sleep.”

“I am ready.” Every time before Xander came, Arei got ready for bed. She was already in her nightgown, and her hair was braided to prevent knots in the morning. To make sure no one knew about their secret meetings, she let all the lights be turned off, but she always lit a candle that was bright enough to see but small enough for no one outside the chambers to notice. In a way, it felt more intimate to her, and she liked that more than she thought.

“I meant ready to actually sleep.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that right now. Let’s talk more!”

“About what?” he asked, skepticism laced in his voice.

He should never worry about her ideas! They were always good and innocent! Like, her idea right now was, “Teach me how to sword fight!”

“No.”

“But why?” Just in case, Arei put on one of the many sad looks she had prepared. It was sad enough that it looked like she was genuinely disappointed but happy enough that it didn’t look like she was about to cry.

“Your parents won’t let me,” Xander answered.

“Teach me in secret. It can be our little thing!”

“Our ‘little thing’ is talking in your chambers when I’m supposed to be outside your door all night to make sure you’re safe.”

“We can have two little things!”

“I don’t have the time to be teaching you things.”

“Make time. I’ll clear up your schedule! I’ll order it to happen.”

“Please don’t do that.” His voice sounded a little more genuine. “I want to do everything I have to do.”

It was her turn to be skeptical now. “What do you have to do?”

Xander counted what he had to do on his fingers. “Being your guard is the obvious one. I also have to sleep since I’m meant to be awake all night. There are meetings between all of your guards in case something like a ball comes up. We need a plan to make sure you’re safe. There are also people I want to see too.”

The last part stuck out to her the most. “Which people?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Just people I know.”

“Who are...?”

“People I know. You don’t know any of them,” he added.

“You don’t tell me anything about your life,” she pointed out.

“You never asked. Besides, I’m here to protect you, so really, everything should be about you.”

Arei wasn’t sure what to think of these mysterious people he knew. She wasn’t stupid and was fully aware that he knew people outside of her life, but it was still weird to think about. She knew him as a fun-to-bother guard who was the best out of all the personal ones she had. They probably knew him as something different because of the time he spent with them. She didn’t like thinking about that.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” she declared with less enthusiasm than she liked to admit.

Xander blinked a few times before frowning. “Did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry if I did.”

“I’m disappointed that you’re not giving me my sword back,” she forced herself to say with the enthusiasm she lacked earlier.

He lost one eye before she met him. The one he had left was very expressive, and she liked to think the other one was too when it was still there. It looked brighter when he was panicking over saying the wrong thing, but it relaxed after she successfully played it off as a joke. She liked looking at his eye.

“It’s my sword,” he corrected, “and you’re not having it back after today.”

“All I did was get a little scratch on my bed that’s barely even noticeable! I deserve a sword!”

“If you are, you’re not getting one from me.”

“Why? Am I not good enough for you? Am I too weak as a princess for you?”

Usually, when she said stuff like that, Xander either got really defensive or was too tired of her to argue. Today, he laughed. She was caught more off guard than she would like to say. It wasn’t like she heard him laugh before, though. The other people he knew probably did tons of times.

“If you want to go to sleep,” Xander said when his laughter died down, “I’ll let you. Good night, Your Majesty.”

“Good night, Xander!” Arei smiled. Xander smiled back before he left her alone in her chambers. It felt quieter with him gone. Then again, it always did.

Arei decided to follow what she told Xander. She blew out the candle before getting under the covers. When her back hit the mattress, her mind thought back to the people Xander knew and liked to spend time with. He was right about her never asking about who he knew. She never thought about it before.

It wasn’t like she was too obsessed with herself to notice other people’s lives. Everyone in the kingdom, including and especially her parents, thought she was, and she always let them think that, but she wasn’t. She knew what was happening throughout the kingdom. She knew the struggles the people were facing better than probably everyone else in the royal family. They were always obsessed with what was happening and could happen to them. The minor problems such as inflation, the difficulty to get food to the villages outside the one closest to the castle, the low-paying incomes many made, and so much more were unnoticed by the others. She did. She couldn’t negotiate to make peace with a rival kingdom for the life of her, but she could maybe make laws to help the daily lives of the little people of the kingdom if she became queen due to her sisters now being seen as criminals to their parents.

Their problems were better to focus on than her own. Whenever she wanted to try to distract herself from her sisters’ recent bullying, the commoners’ problems were what she went to. Hearing about things they dealt with didn’t make her feel any better about her own, but it gave her something to think about. She could be a good person and help them, or she could be cruel and make their lives worse. Or, she could be just like the rest of her family and let them continue on with their lives and doing nothing to worsen it but also nothing to help them.

Xander was a commoner. She knew he was raised in the farthest village from the castle, right next to the boarder between their kingdom and the next. He worked his way to get to where he was now. The problems he had were definitely more interesting than her current ones, but he never shared them with her. She understood that she wasn’t the kindest to him, but even if she was, he probably wouldn’t. He was only meant to be her personal guard, not anything else. They were already crossing a line with their secret meetings, and he wouldn’t try to push it any further.

The other people he knew probably knew of his problems, though. He probably shared all the problems he had to them, and they listened or offered solutions. They knew him better than she did.

For a while, Arei read books when she was trying to escape her sisters’ torment. No one liked her, so it was the only way to entertain herself. There were multiple books where she saw a stereotype of a princess having no friends. She hated that she fell into that stereotype. There was no one in her life that she wanted to spend time with, and there was no one who wanted to spend time with her. Everything was out of pure obligation before Xander came in. He was the first person she wanted to be with, and he was the first person to want that with her. She didn’t know how to talk to him, but she knew she liked feeling seen, feeling comfortable, feeling like a person when she was around him. She liked knowing he enjoyed her company and wouldn’t try to leave because he didn’t want to be with her. It was almost amazing how good someone could feel around someone because of that.

Of course, there were other people Xander liked more than her. There had to be. She couldn’t imagine herself being his favourite person to be with, even though he was surely hers.

Thinking was too much work. Arei should definitely go to sleep.

Confession: Even though this was meant to be posted yesterday, I just finished it today. Whoops.

[sagesilentfire]

I would love to hear your Seth headcanons

hell yeah

Canon:

ABSOLUTELY not a pro-Mewman-genocide guy, any rumors he is are invented by racist Mewmans who believe the monsters will do the same thing to Mewmans that Mewmans have been doing to monsters if monsters are given the slightest amount of political power.

Is for changing the status quo to give monsters political power. Comet was not; she believed that the queens just had to be nice to monsters. AKA "don't change the system, change the person in charge of the system" neoliberal bullshit.

Toffee is his adopted son, and if I was writing a fifth season/continuation, he would be out for revenge for what Star did to Toffee. We'd have a massive, character-developing realization that Star is really not a good person, and she realizes she murdered someone who had barely done anything wrong, and she would have to live with that. No bs "destroying the magic was the right idea and THAT'S the problem with melting Toffee, not the MELTING part." Because, as I'll talk about soon, the only thing the show expressly tells us re: how we should feel about Toffee is that he was right to destroy magic, but that he was weird and scary and a sociopath, so we shouldn't be mourning HIM and being rightfully skeeved out that Star approached (and is still approaching! she does not grow out of this!) her problems by burning them until they died. (Again, I have evidence that she does not grow out of it. I'll provide it soon.)

Toffee's mother was murdered by proto-Solarian warriors made by Mira, the queen behind the Great Monster Massacre. Seth doesn't know if he had another parent, or even the mother's name. All Seth knows is he fought off a warrior from a monster village, and when he was surveying the damage, he found a lot of dead, including a woman who had clearly died protecting a still-living toddler. No one stepped up to claim the child, so Seth took care of him.

Seth is older than the Mewman occupation. He was a kid when the Mewmans destroyed Septarsis, which kicked off the war. He was a young adult when the Mewmans committed the Great Monster Massacre, killing every monster in sight and locking the regenerating ones in heavily enchanted boxes and throwing them into the darkest depths of Butterfly Castle. He survived uncaptured by not regenerating his injuries, playing dead, and then sneaking off when the Mewmans weren't looking, and since Mewmans weren't sure which monsters could regenerate yet, they ignored him.

Septarsis, and "Mewni" in general, were really diverse places before the Mewmans arrived. Monsters can interbreed with each other, so there weren't rigid categories like "Slime" and "septarian" and so on yet. Those terms were invented by an Old Book queen who wanted to reduce the monsters' power by dividing them. Seth thinks that's bullshit, the only useful dividing line is who has what abilities, of which there are a plethora, not just regeneration. And all monster cultures had a mix of abilities, much like humans.

Toffee gets his smarts from Seth. They worked together on strategy since Toffee was a toddler. (Toffee originally was a kid, so his battle strategies consisted of grabbing the figures representing monster armies on the map and knocking over the Mewman figures while making explosion noises. Seth acted like those were brilliant strategies and he only had a few criticisms. (Star Butterfly never grew out of such strategies.))

Seth taught Toffee Septarian, which is still a closely guarded secret.

Seth wasn't a perfect parent, though. He was never in the same place for long and constantly busy, so Toffee spent a lot of time alone.

Septarsis was a city, where Butterfly Castle is now. It was relatively peaceful, and Seth has nothing but good memories of it, what little he can remember. It is not here now, but Seth wants to reshape Butterfly Castle in its image.

Seth will not compromise his goals, but he does try to be good, and do good things.

My Fanon AU where a lot of things are different (samatfoe):

Note that a lot of this will be either alluded to or stated outright in samatfoe s5, but I might as well tell you now!

Seth became the leader of the Beacon of Hope at fifty, which was impressively young. Sílthéy (their Glossaryck) thought he had promise, but wasn't the final arbitrator of that. No, the reason the Septarsis Council put him in charge of a Beacon (basically a town) was his unflinching devotion to peace and solving things without violence.

It was clear, three years later, with Septarsis becoming a smoking crater with only one survivor, that his devotion would be tested.

Seth did not join the fight. He lead his people through rebuilding and defense, but never actually picked up a weapon himself. He tried his best to negotiate with the Butterflys, but eventually let Toffee, who had been chosen as Sílthéy's sword and magic, have free reign of dealing with them. Not even Seth could undo what they had done to themselves.

Toffee, for their (nonbinary) part, learned from Seth the art of negotiating and solving things non-violently, if possible. They never claimed Seth (or anyone) as their parent, as their parents had died with Old Septarsis, but Seth did raise them, when he had the time. Now, the Butterflys rarely allowed Toffee to negotiate, instead leaping right to trying to kill them, but they did at least try every time.

Seth became the de-facto leader of Septarsis to Mewmans. As his notoriety among them rose, so did the attempts on his life. He continued showing up to negotiations for a while, but as the centuries wore on and he started getting older, Toffee took on more and more of his duties, sometimes pretending via illusions to be him.

Seth actually didn't mind Crescenta as a Mewman queen. Sure she was slippery, and underhanded, and a terrible person, but at least she tried to pretend to not solve everything with violence. He didn't like her, but at least she allowed him to negotiate. And then it was revealed that she'd secretly been casting a deadly magical plague on political opponents that had only avoided him because of diligent effort by Toffee, and he was less appreciative.

Toffee assassinated Crescenta via a version of her own plague spell, modified so that it wouldn't spread. Sadly, due to Glossaryck's Prophecy, they couldn't end the Mewman line right then, but at least Rhina the Riddled was much less prone to... experimentation.

Not long after this, Seth died, with many things unfinished. But he'd lived a long life, and became a ghost with the desire to end Mewni's colonization as his unfinished business.

Toffee still uses his likeness when appearing to things as themself would be too inconvenient. It's what Seth (and Seth's ghost) would've wanted.

[return-of-the-queen-au]

Idk what was I doing here but here you go,

It's just a random fic dw

Everything is cold.

Everything feels so cold.

"..wh-..what..?" she mumbled to no one in particular.

"My..my- prince..?" She mumbled, this time asking for someone, but there wasn't anyone in sight.

All there was, was just ice and a feeling of empty everywhere. Everything was so cold and silent, it seemed like the world just dissapeared. Like everyone dissapeared! there weren't the guards, or his prince, or the people outside playing or just.. living.

the front door wouldn't open, and the confused queen was left there wondering what has happened.

The last thing she remembered was seeing her prince with some red haired girl. She didn't know what took over her, why was she so mad? What happened? Where's her beloved prince?

Has she lost control again? Is that the reason why everything is so,,cold? Wasn't it the middle of summer?

"Guards? My prince?" She called, louder. But all she heard was her own voice.

What if she hurt them? What if because of,,of- of her horrible curse she hurt innocent people!?

What if she has hurt her prince—

Something broke. Maybe a vase. no- no, it sounded like,,chains? And,,water? No, ice?

She didn't understood, all she could do was jump and bump on the wall behind her from the sudden noise. "WHO'S- WHO IS THERE?!" she screamed, demanding answers to whatever that was. But the noise just kept becoming louder and louder to the point the queen thought someone was fighting with some chains!

But once she calmed down- well, stopped shivering from whoever the intruder could be and hurt her once they found their way in, (unless they were already in.) She realized that the noise came from the cellar! Who could be in the cellar? Almost,,no. No one was ever there! At that point it was used to put random things that were useless!

Maybe someone broke in through there? But, who?

And,,now that she finally sees through a window, everything is covered in snow! You could,,you can't even see the village! What happened? Did she do all of this? Did she got upset again? oh no! Oh no no! Her mother always told her to keep herself calm or she could have hurt somebody with her..powers. no, curse.

did she hurt—

"....n...s..sa—"

WHAT WAS THAT? Was that a person? She tried to move away from the noise but ice has grown under her feet, making her fall down.

she hated this. She hated all of this. Did she did this? Why? Why does this curse have to ruin everything?

Where is her sweet prince? He was always there to comfort her,, she's worried.

Is he here? Has he gotten hurt? Is he buried under the snow outside? She really hopes not.

But just when the queen started sobbing to herself from the amount of questions and realizations of what could have possibly happened, the door that lead to the cellar swung open with so much force it shook the whole manor. "AH-" she jumped again from the sudden noise, breathing heavily from the tears, trying her best to break the remaining ice under her feet. She didn't care if it ruined her dress, she needed to get out of here! She needed to find her prince- find out what happened- make sure that everyone is okay-

"..'nessa?" a whispering and echoey voice asked, it felt familiar, but with the whispering, she couldn't tell.

She kept pulling and pulling until she did the mistake of opening her eyes and look at the intruder.

"..van..vanny..?" a purple figure of a person asked, with tears in it's yellow glowy eyes. There was no mouth and his body seemed to be made out of shadows, it wasn't solid, but it gave at least a shape.

She screamed at the sight of whatever monster was in front of her, looking at her very soul.

"WHO ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU GET HERE? GUARDS! GUARDS!" she screamed for help that never came, she didn't wanna die! Who even was this monster!

",,Vanny,,my dear,, I'm- vannyyy,," the voice of the monster suddenly became sweet and full of joy. Why was it calling her "vanny?"

That's a nickname only—

No. No. Please. Oh please, no.

Looking at the monster who was face to face to her now, trying it's best to keep itself up, trying to gently touch her cheeks, everything became so obvious, the world felt it was crushing and breaking to her feet.

"....my...prince...?"

[imhereformr]

Winx S2 E20 Pixie Village

Okay so they're quarrelsome and divided, but I don't actually remember them fighting until just now. In the last episode they were literally giving Bloom a makeover

Avalon and Palladium! What a handsome couple

"Drastic measures" = vacation? How about therapy?

"but what about all the classes we'll be missing?" (Flora you nerd) "this is much more important" FARAGONDA. YOU ARE AN EDUCATOR (or supposed to be)!!! You should be letting, I don't know, the army or something handle Darkar, not 6 teenage girls? They should be in school. You know, the school you run (poorly).

"I've invited some specialists" So not only is this bitch making them miss class to take a trip, she's also sending their boyfriends. Peak educator 👌🏻

Icy is so over Darkar. She sounds like a 16 year old talking to their overbearing mother 😂

"Hullo Riven" 😂😂😂

IT'S MY FAVOURITE SCENE 💀💀💀💀

Why is Bloom being such a bitch to Sky 😂😂😂

Not Flora debating over coats for them all to end up in exactly the same thing

Even Avalon 😏 Brandon you jerk 😂

It's a ski hat, isn't it supposed to be warm is literally one of my favourite things Riven's ever said 😂😂😂😂 it's just so innocent and clueless, and he's so adorably confused 😂😂

Look at all the pixies we'll literally never see again

"I'm terrified of heights" "you can fly" THANK YOU TECNA. FINALLY SOMEONE REMEMBERS IT (she says this to a pixie, who is literally almost constantly flying)

"oh no the antidote for Avalon" Livy your home is being attacked!

Livy's power is to turn anything into a skateboard (airboard?), including Codexes.

Note to self: absolutely include Sky and Riven trash talking each other while snowboarding when I eventually get there

Aisha beating them like the queen she is

Did I miss something? How did Icy end up in Downland?

It's getting quite dark well yeah Flora you guys decided to go skiing when you only had 43 minutes of daylight left

She's having fun without Avalon. Brandon is living for this

Stella was totally ready to transform and leave the guys behind 💀

Let's keep our cool and work together stfu Bloom

Amentia never surrenders. Yes Amentia!

Does Timmy have a calculator with him 😂😂😂

Amentia just called Icy a hussy 💀

Let's hope it works as well as it looks. That glider looks like patchwork that'll lead to their death 😅

Why are they having a chat as floating heads in the snow 😂😂😂 fucking get up

What weakness did Bloom overcome to gain her Charmix? Stubbornness?

[dreamdragoness]

As the ailing King of Hearts lay in bed, relaxing to the comforting sound of his maid's lullaby, he drifted off to sleep. As he did, he recalled a memory of something similar happening when he was a boy.

When he was about nine, he and his mother took an entourage to the edge of the Hearts Kingdom. At the edge where the four kingdoms converged and that ever-present fog loomed over the center. They were there to check on the villages and border patrols as Spades' was acting suspiciously. It was nothing new and it gave them a chance to get out of the capital as long as they had their disguises up. Though the only disguise Wally preferred was having his hair down and magically dyed blue. But Wally, being the child that he was, wandered off one day. He couldn't remember why nowadays. All he did know was that he ended up lost in the forest and after wandering around to try and find a way back, he tripped and fell down a ravine. A sharp pain struck his right eye before he lost consciousness. The next thing he knew, he was lying under a blanket next to a campfire. A pile of leaves acted as a pillow and he could tell that he had some bandages wrapped around his head and eye.

That was when he met her. "Flower, gleam and glow, Let your power shine, Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine~ "Heal what has been hurt Change the fates' design Save what has been lost, Bring back what once was mine~ "What once was mine~" Singing this strange, yet soothing, song was a girl around his age. Though it was night out, the glow at her throat and the campfire illuminated her curly red hair. He recalled how soft it looked. The girl looked like a noble, but he didn't recognize her from any of the socials his mother hosted. She was dressed in a lavender dress in an unfamiliar style and covering her face was a white bird-like mask with some sort of flower carving at the bridge. The mask was painted with small shapes of purple, red, blue, green, and yellow.

He thought she looked as pretty as a fairy. The "fairy," as he would later call her, saw that he was awake and checked on his injuries. She told him that she and her father had found him in the ravine and that she was taking care of him while her father searched for the prince's family. The prince once again felt soothed by the sound of the fairy's voice as she spoke to him. He was still wary and did not give him his name. And when he asked for hers, she avoided it and asked him what he would like to call her. When he softly responded "Fairy," she giggled. Saying that in a way, it suited her. The fairy stayed by his side, talking small talk to make him comfortable. She dodged the questions about where she came from and who she was, stating that he was also dodging those same questions from her. After a while, Wally did become comfortable enough to ask if she would sing more. The girl happily complied, singing the lullaby from before and other songs that, according to her, were taught to her by her mother. It was those songs that made the prince feel enchanted by her voice. He listened on as he drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, he was in his mother's arms and on their way back to the castle. Queen Ambrosia told her that the prince was really lucky that the girl and her father had found him and treated him. Especially once she revealed that the pair could possibly be from the Joker Kingdom as they wore masks and that Wally's eye was saved from becoming permanently blind. The boy wanted to see the girl again and realized that he had something in his hands: the girl's mask. To this day, Wally kept the mask in a space where he hid all of his personal treasures. While it was never proven if the fairy and her father were Jokers, the fact that Wally had searched every kingdom for a girl fitting the same description and found nothing made him believe what his mother said was true. Now he had a secret wish to find the Joker Kingdom like his ancestors before him. Not only to fulfill a family dream since the end of the Great War, but to find that fairy girl once more. And yet, the fact that Miss Flannigan had reminded him of that girl made him question her origin even more.

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

An idea I had for "Wildcard." A little while after Stacy becomes Wally's personal maid, he becomes sick with a very bad cold and a high fever. While he was assured by the doctors that he was going to be fine with plenty of rest, his friends would come to check on him every now and then. One night, he has a nightmare about his mother's assassination, causing Stacy, who was nearby, to enter his chambers and tend to him.

Feeling sorry for him and haunted by the memories of her mother's death by illness, Stacy takes it upon herself to work harder to get Wally to feel better. She sings some lullabies in the hopes of getting the king to fall asleep. It works, but it brings forth a memory of his past. A memory that makes him even more curious about his new maid.

Not going to lie. This piece was inspired by young Rapunzel in the Tangled TV show singing to heal Pascal. I felt I had to include the song.

As for her voice, the Joker Kingdom has an abundance of magic and some Jokers gain certain abilities from it. As a Flannigan, Stacy has multiple talents (Flannigans are Jacks of All Trades), but at the age she was in the piece, she had developed a healing power that was powered by song. Specifically something soft like a lullaby. However, there is always a price for these gifts. If the Joker uses their gift outside their kingdom too many times past their limit, they could fall ill. That is because their bodies are like cell phones. If used too long or too much, they get drained.

Welcome Home: Party Coffin Royalty AU: @neonross

Stacy and the Joker Kingdom: Me Tangled: Disney