#but Love got used to the brain-be-gone magic really fast and was flattered he was putting this much effort into her

[ghouljams]

Hmmm this has been rattling in my head for a little bit. Irl I’m very particular about who can call me what version of my name or nick name, so could we maybe get some feral Ghost and/or König who lose their shit when some other person refers to their darling as Love or Liebling? Cause essentially I feel like both of them have used those new names so much that they’re pretty much ingrained into their Darlings and have the potential for magic even by non magical folk? Akin to True Name vibes? I’m not sure. Here’s my idea, go wild!!

OOOOH I have been wanting to talk about their nicknames for a while, yes yes yes. I will do some fic(one for both Darling's names) and some authors notes under a read more because I have MANY thoughts.

You don't think you've ever seen König this mad. He is dripping with it, seething under his hood in a way you think you could see even if he wasn't holding a man by his neck.

König's fingers dig into the expose brick of the shop, fastening the man where he's held, threatening to give his neck the same treatment. Everything about him is unnaturally angled and sharp, positively vibrating malice. You've never been scared of him before --not properly at least-- but you're starting to think maybe you should be. The fae man he's caught certainly looks scared.

"Das ist nichts für dich, du sprichst diesen Namen nicht," You don't think König is speaking to him, he's talking to the shop. He says it loud enough for the rest of the patrons, magical and otherwise, to hear. It's strange, you don't recognize his voice. You know it's König, you can see him, but his voice is commanding, speaking word to law in a way that seems to write it in the very air you're breathing.

You didn't think it was so offensive when the guy called you Liebling, König calls you that all the time. It's as close to a name as any of the fae in your store have heard for you, of course they'd use it to try and be polite. Although, now that you think about it, this is the first time one of them has tried it.

The fae pinned to your wall is starting to look more insectoid than human. Eyes bulging and fingers long and awkwardly jointed as it claws at König's grip.

"You can't kill anyone in the store," You say, because you don't know what else to say. When König's turns his furious gaze on you, you know why. He is an unstoppable force of nature, and you are an ant he's taken a liking to.

-

"Did you hear me, Love?" You shudder, feeling your bones click together unpleasantly. You like the shop woman well enough, but that is really annoying.

"Find something else to call me." You tell her over your tea, unsure how to vocalize the wrongness that hearing her call you that inspires. She tips her head one way then another.

"But that's what Si-" You can feel yourself grit your teeth against the growl that wells in your throat. You cut her off quickly before your teeth start itching too badly and you end up biting someone.

"You don't get to call him that," She flinches back away from your tone, you can feel her overgrown pet staring at you. You recenter yourself, feeling the pleasant warmth of Simon's tethers as you calm your bite response. "Ghost," You tell her, "you call him Ghost."

"Names, right." She sighs, dragging a hand down her face, "We really need to write a guide or something."

"How to attract the obsession of your ideal man so he can never leave you." You agree, sipping your tea. You're thoroughly satisfied that you've avoided whatever crisis your bones were shuddering against.

"Babe, there is something deeply wrong with you."

Alright Author notes: Whew, I have so much to say on Names and the Darling's names. I will try to not be too rambly but also I doubt anyone is actually going to read this note lol

Love and Ghost's story is about change: as Ghost becomes more human for Love, she becomes more fae for him. I think Love absolutely becomes a part of her "true" name, and she becomes very protective of it. That's a name that Ghost has given her so she's protective of that aspect for sure, but it also becomes her. Also in a very meta-textual narrative sense she is Love. She's the embodiment of the actual emotion for Ghost. In the context of the story she's very much made for him, the universe's way of balancing him out as he's lost his connection to humanity. She's also sort of our portal into the fae au, if that makes sense, so she's the embodiment of love in that sense as well.

Love and Ghost are two people that sort of don't have a choice in loving each other. They're truly soulmates. Even with all the brain-be-gone and magical fuckery that Ghost puts Love through, she is very willing and very much finding her own ways to trap him. They're two deeply broken people that are making their way towards being whole together. Although I feel like I haven't done a good job of showing that just due to the nature of the moments in their relationship I've been showing.

This is also like, I don't want to say a spoiler but sort of, Ghost has not always been a Fae! I think his mother was fae, or had the blood at least, but Ghost was stolen and "created" in the fae wild from a semi-human child. I think this is the major debt Price holds on him: rescuing him from whatever held him in the fae wild long enough to create what Ghost became. This is also why Ghost has never created tethers, and why he's sort of overdoing it with Love. She's his first(and last) love.

Anyway on to Liebling and König: Liebling's nickname is König's Name for her. It is his. It's a part of him and his tether to her. Unlike Love, Liebling doesn't really recognize his pet name as her name so it doesn't have the same true name power over her. It does however have that sort of power for König. If he says that name and tugs on a tether it does the same thing as Love speaking Simon's full name. BUT this also means König is VERY protective of the name. It's like someone else calling her their wife, no, that's his wife.

It helps that this is the only name König has for her, and it does have an effect on her. I think Liebling very quickly really likes the pet names. They make her feel held, they make the tethers happy, they're her connection to König, and as much as she complains about the horrible nuisance he is she really does grow to love him so much. I actually think the first and last time that they say/learn each others true names are when they get fae married. But they don't really need them, they have names for each other and those feel more true than any other could.

#fae!ghost #fae!konig #fae au #Liebling and König are so cute together because they're building things together #Love and Ghost are like seeing the absolute worst of someone on the first date and deciding you're going to marry them #like Ghost did stalk her to try and make himself her perfect man #but Love got used to the brain-be-gone magic really fast and was flattered he was putting this much effort into her #anyway those are my name thoughts i hope you like them #hey also y'all are so thirsty for price and soap I see u in my ask box #bark for me

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

(Let Me) Cover Your Eyes

Ao3

Summary: Remy’s a queen, but that doesn’t mean they get any rights. Logan’s not even a noble, but that doesn’t mean ay can’t do something. Content: Arranged marriage, sensory overload, references to noncon/dubcon kissing, one implication of possible future noncon/dubcon sex (none actually happens, just vaguely mentioned), basically being treated like a slave, one instance of self-harm, mentioned starvation, fear about being caught, misgendering (some accidental, some purposeful but for good reason), magic au, genderfluid!remy, nb!logan Pairing: Platonic losleep Note: There’s an oc in this referred to just as ‘the king’- he’s not meant to be a certain character or anything, he’s just an oc

~

If you asked anyone who knew her how Remy felt about parties, you would get the same answer from all of them: she loved them. She wore the most exquisite gowns and the most beautiful jewels to them, face made up in bright colours that highlighted her ever-present smile, mingling and laughing with all who attended. They were one of her greatest joys.

All of these people would be wrong. And this would be because they weren’t describing Remy- they were describing Maria.

Remy hated parties. The outfits she wore to them were too tight and difficult to move in, the jewelry paired with them clunky and not flattering to her. She wore so much make-up it felt as if breathing too hard would mess it up, and she felt suffocated beneath the smiles she couldn’t drop as she forced herself to interact with the masses. They were awful, and they made her feel awful.

But that didn’t stop them from occurring twice a month, and that didn’t stop Remy from having to go to them, always dolled up to the point you could barely tell she was anything more than a statue of perfect pose and restrained emotion.

That’s all she was, after all. Marriage may have deemed her a queen, but birth had deemed her a doll to be controlled and admired by others, and birth always won out.

So when the king (her husband, she could have said, but they both knew that wasn’t the purpose of their marriage, so there wasn’t really any reason to pretend otherwise) reminded her of the ball that evening and told her to get ready, she did. Even if her skin crawled and she wished she could do anything else, she did.

Her casual clothes were swapped out for a dark green ball gown that was much too tight around her stomach and much too loose everywhere else. She was adorned in heavy gold jewelry from head to toe, and her face was painted white and detailed like a mask of glittering emeralds and sapphires. And for the final touch, her sunglasses were taken from her and replaced with the reminder to smile.

“You look beautiful.” The king commented as Remy once more joined him. He was barely changed from earlier, his robes straightened a bit and little else. He wasn’t the one who was going to be on display.

“Thank you.” Remy said, but the response was hollow. The king’s words had been no compliment, simply a satisfied remark that his showpiece was prepared for the evening.

At the king’s prompting, Remy slipped her arm in his, wishing this gown had been one of the ones that came with gloves. The party would be hell on her senses no matter what, but the little things did help.

But, Remy supposed, she was already lucky enough she was a woman at the moment. Sure, she’d feel like hell and still be forced to act as if she was in heaven, but at least she wouldn’t be misgendered.

Little things.

~

The party had gone downhill for Remy at about the same rate as always; aka, really fucking fast.

The lights were too bright on their own, traditional candles covering practically every inch of the walls while the chandeliers above were lit up by crystallized sunlight, all of it made worse by the hundreds of gems that reflected the light even more throughout the room. The colours of outfit amongst the partygoers were violent clashes of manageable darks and painfully bright neons. Chinking glasses and overlapping conversations echoed in the large ballroom. Everything was too much, and to top it all off Remy’s gender had shifted again, the pesky thing, and now every addressal of ‘my queen’ made them feel sick.

Not that you could have guessed any of that, looking at Remy. They were used to it, after all. Used to everything being so much it made it hard to talk or think or breathe, used to feeling as if their skin was buzzing with the amount of hands they were shaking, used to smiling through it all as if they were enjoying themself and not crumbling piece by piece, only to be put back together again just in time for the next party.

It would be easy if it didn’t hurt so much.

Barely an hour into the party and Remy was ready to find a corner and press themself into it until they simply didn’t exist anymore. Every minute afterwards only got worse, and were it not for the eyes of the guards at every door and corner constantly on them Remy would’ve just left and faced the consequences later.

And of course, because Remy was already having such a wonderful evening, things went from bad to utterly terrible in the space of a few too-fast heartbeats.

The most recent noble Remy had struck up conversation with had been charming, in a good way. They hadn’t tried to shake Remy’s hand, something Remy was immensely grateful for, and they kept their attention towards the crowd around them as they chatted, not staring uncomfortably at Remy’s face like everyone else did. Remy wouldn’t say they were happy talking to them, but it was certainly the best interaction they had had that evening.

And then they asked Remy to stay put while they spoke to the king, and everything was right back to being horrible.

Remy wasn’t surprised when the noble returned to lead them outside, out onto the low balcony set in the back of the palace. It was a lovely night, after all, temperate and cloudless, and going to a bedroom would’ve been pointless anyways. It was still a few months before their first year with the king was up, and tradition was tradition, even if the king was much too preoccupied with peace treaties and border shifts to pay Remy any ‘attention.’

They stepped out onto the balcony before the noble, taking in a breath of the cool air while they waited for the noble to close the door and make their move. Remy wasn’t sure what to expect, only knowing that the most seemingly charming nobles were the worst in this regard.

Soon enough, they were in front of Remy, for the first time that evening looking them in their eyes. Remy wasn’t surprised. They were gorgeous, after all, the whole spectrum of colour twisting and turning in their irises, never stopping. Remy had expected them to look eventually. That was why they were on display.

Lost in their thoughts, Remy didn’t notice that the noble was offering them something until they spoke up, their tone clear and the slightest bit concerned, “Here.”

Remy thought they were directing them in some manner. Instead, their hand was out, palm up, offering Remy…

“Sunglasses?” Remy said, confused. They weren’t supposed to cover their eyes at parties, for the express purpose of ensuring all the guests could see them. It was practically etiquette for beings like them. “The king won’t allow it.”

“He can’t see you right now.” The noble pointed out evenly, as if they were simply stating a fact. When Remy didn’t respond to that, they added, “You’re uncomfortable. These will help.”

Part of Remy was still untrusting of the noble’s offer. It was too likely this was simply a trap, some sort of twisted test to see if Remy would respond properly.

But Remy really did want to put the sunglasses on, to once more quiet the world, consequences be damned. Plus, there was something… unplaceable about this noble. Remy was loath to call them trustworthy, but they didn’t inspire distrust nearly as much as anyone else Remy was forced to know, and that meant something to Remy.

So they accepted the sunglasses.

Immediately after putting them on, Remy could feel their senses quieting, the new muted, dark appearance to the world around them convincing some primal part of their brain that they no longer needed to be on full alert. Remy’s dulled senses were roughly on par with a human’s full-alert ones, something that made the human world much easier to bear. Their skin was still crawling, too much touch not something that could just be blocked out at a moment’s notice, but that was alright with Remy. Something was better than nothing. They didn’t need everything.

The noble, however, didn’t seem as satisfied. They were frowning, head tilted as they looked at Remy.

“You’re still uncomfortable.” They observed, which Remy supposed wasn’t too surprising. They were good at acting okay, but it wasn’t a waterproof facade. Just good enough so that nobles who didn’t care weren’t forced to feel uncomfortable due to Remy’s own discomfort.

“I’m fine.” Remy lied, trying to maintain the facade, as always. “Now, are you-”

Before they could finish their sentence, Remy was stopped by the noble shrugging off their dark blue and silver embroidered jacket, leaving them in a matching tie and black button-up as they offered the jacket to Remy. “Here. The pressure should help with your crawling skin, so long as the fabric doesn’t upset you.”

Now that? That was odd.

“How did you know my skin was crawling?” Remy asked as they accepted the jacket. They had been given ‘favors’ before, so there was no danger in wearing the noble’s. There might’ve been a time when there was, but Remy had been careful to insure otherwise.

“I’m an empath.” The noble answered.

Remy nodded, now only slightly confused. While being an empath did answer their original question, it also proposed a new one: what were they doing here? Empaths were not considered of high social standing, but instead as workers, made to help lift others up and be crushed under foot if they weren’t careful. The only way an empath would be at one of the king’s parties was if they were rich beyond good reason, and Remy found those types were never charming.

Trying to put their confusion out of mind, Remy pulled on the jacket, feeling relieved almost immediately. The jacket was heavy, but not tight or restricting, and the material of it felt nice against their skin. Though there was still the lingering feel of everyone who had touched them in the last hour, it was mostly gone, blocked out by the jacket.

“You’re comfortable now. Good.” The noble observed, and Remy felt their heart rate spike, even if only for a moment. So that was their angle. Comfortable. At least it was classy.

“I suppose I am.” Remy responded, as neutrally as possible. Of course the empath would want them to be comfortable, wouldn’t want to sense any negative emotions from Remy. And if Remy had any chance of making sure they didn’t have to deal with any of said emotions, they’d have to start working on blocking them out now.

The noble nodded, and Remy was ready, ready for them to make their move, to step forward or grab Remy’s hips or angle their chin or-

“May we talk?”

Once more, Remy found their thoughts slamming to a stop, the change in course sudden and completely unpredictable. Talk? Why would the noble want to talk?

“You’re confused.” The noble pointed out unhelpfully.

“I- Why aren’t you kissing me?” Remy blurted out before they could stop themself. They knew it was rude, and in horrible form, and if the king was anywhere nearby he’d be having a fit, but for the moment Remy didn’t care. They could only hold off sickening anticipation for so long, and they just wanted this over and done with as soon as possible.

In response, the noble blinked at Remy. Once. Twice. Coughed, adjusted their glasses, looked away a moment.

“Apologies.” They said, sounding awkward. “It appears I failed to properly explain the situation to you when I first left you to find the king. I have no desire to kiss you, I merely wish to talk to you.”

“That’s not why people normally bring me out onto the balcony.”

The noble ran a hand through their long dark hair, the quick, unthinking action giving Remy the impression it was a nervous habit. “And that is part of the reason I am here. But I assure you, I only want to converse. Nothing else.”

“...It’s your money.” Remy finally said, the noble’s uncomfortableness with the whole thing convincing them that they spoke the truth. The noble simply nodded, looking relieved that that conversation was over.

“It is best we speak outside of sight of possibly prying eyes.” They said, gesturing towards one of the balcony’s corners that meant the wall of the palace. Only in pressing their faces to the glass would anyone be able to see them there. Remy made no complaint, allowing themself to be pulled over to the corner, trying to ignore how many times they had been pushed into it.

Once they were situated there, the noble standing directly in the corner and Remy in front of them with more personal space than they normally got out here but also not nearly enough, the empath spoke.

“I do not think I remembered to introduce myself earlier- I am Logan, ay-em-air pronouns, empath.” Logan told Remy, only sparking their confusion as to what ay was doing at a party for nobles even more. The breaking of the gender binary was considered informal, improper, and a peasant thing to do. All nobles were cis, or at least acted as if they were. Logan being open with air identity was just another strike against em being a proper noble, much less one invited to balls. So why was ay here?

“May I ask your name and pronouns?”

Remy frowned. “I’m Maria, the queen, I-”

“You can’t lie to an empath. Not easily, anyways.” Logan corrected, offering Remy a small smile. “Even without my magic, it’s easy to tell you weren’t at ease when the others addressed you by such terms. While I understand your inability to correct them, I assure you, you will face no consequences for being honest to me.”

Logan’s ability to seem trustworthy despite giving Remy very little concrete reason to trust em was beginning to become annoying. But it still won out in the end, and Remy found themself quietly admitting, “I prefer to go by Remy. They-them works for now.”

“Alright then, Remy,” Logan began, prompting a brief small smile from Remy, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh?”

“Do you want to leave?”

Remy tilted their head to the side, confused. “Leave where?”

“Here. The palace.”

“Surely you know I can’t do that, babe.” Remy said, biting down on their tongue hard the moment the sentence was out of their mouth. Petnames weren’t proper, they weren’t noble, and they weren’t used by royals. The king hated hearing them, and was always quick to use Remy’s slip-up as a chance to remind them they were queen by title only, that there was no royalty in their blood and never would be. The verbal reminder was easy enough to block out and ignore, but the days without food? Not so much.

Remy swallowed before continuing, trying to clean their mouth of the fresh taste of blood. “Only the king can take me off the grounds.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Logan replied evenly. “I asked if you want to leave.”

“Of course I do.” Remy said, quickly glancing back to check no one was trying to approach them, turning back towards Logan when they didn’t see anything or anyone. “But that doesn’t exactly matter. Want to or not, I have to stay in the palace.”

“You don’t have to.” Logan corrected. “I can help you escape. You can leave.”

“No offense, su- Logan, but you and what army?” Remy asked, vaguely gesturing behind Logan. “The walls surrounding the palace are enchanted, there are four guards stationed at the gate and dozens more all across the grounds, and if I’m absent too long I will be sought out. I can’t just leave because you’re escorting me.”

Logan didn’t respond to that immediately, instead looking past Remy for a moment, likely at the doors to the balcony. After a moment, ay gave air attention back to Remy as ay spoke. “I understand your desire to have more concrete facts and reasonings behind what I say, but I do not have the time to answer all your questions now. I can get you out of here, but you have to trust me, and we must leave now, before we’re out of time.”

Remy bit their lip, hesitating. “If I’m caught…”

“You won’t be.” Logan assured them. “But as I said, you have to trust me, and we must leave now. Do you want to be free again, Remy?”

The question was more than just whether or not Remy wanted to be free, they knew. It wasn’t asking if Remy wanted to be free in a vacuum, asking whether or not they preferred freedom to what was more or less enslavement. It was asking if they were willing to take a risk for freedom, if they were willing to be free at a cost, if they were willing to take their chances at freedom despite the danger. It was asking if they were willing to trust Logan.

They shouldn’t have been. No one could be trusted, not anymore.

And yet…

“Yeah.” Remy answered, letting out a shaky breath as they wrapped their arms around themself. Logan’s jacket pressing closer against their skin, reassuring Remy, if only a bit. “I’ll trust you.”

The hint of a smile flickered over Logan’s face. “Good.” Ay said, before proceeding to flip emself over the balcony railing without even glancing back first.

Remy knew ay was probably fine, the drop not being a large one, and Logan clearly being prepared for the move, but it was still sudden enough to shock Remy into pushing themself against the balcony railing, making sure ay really was okay.

Ay was- at least, Remy was fairly certain an injured person wouldn’t be so focused on adjusting air tie. Ay flattened it down against air chest before ay looked up at Remy.

“Your turn.” Ay called up, only as loud as ay needed to be. Ay also opened up air arms, clearly planning to catch Remy.

Remy just scoffed to themself and jumped to the side of em, landing firmly on the ground.

Logan looked mildly impressed, raising an eyebrow at Remy. Remy shrugged. “I’m not completely helpless.”

“Never said you were.” Logan defended, though air expression was odd in a way Remy couldn’t place. Ay only allowed for a moment of staring, however, before ay turned from Remy. “This way.”

With that, ay set off across the expansive palace yard, Remy following close behind em. They were on high alert, constantly waiting to spot one of the many wandering guards who patrolled the estate day and night, but to their surprise, none seemed to be around.

Soon enough, the two of them came to the path that connected the gate to the palace, made of glistening white pebbles and smooth marble. Remy expected Logan to lead them over the path and back into the yard, where ay would soon enough lead them to a hole in the wall or something similar. What Remy hadn’t expected, however, was for Logan to stop on the path and begin heading towards the gate.

Remy grabbed air arm before ay could make it far, hissing under their breath, “What are you doing?!”

In response, Logan offered Remy a small smile, carefully looped their arms together so as that ay wasn’t too close or touching them too much, and once more moved forward, murmuring, “Trust me,” under air breath.

Only against every logical bone in their body did Remy do so, trying to focus on not falling over as Logan led them forwards, closer and closer to what Remy was certain would be the doom and ruin of this plan.

As soon as they were close enough to be recognized, the two guards stationed on the inside of the gate drew their swords, pointing them at Logan and Remy, and Remy was fairly certain their heart rate had never been higher than in that moment.

“The queen doesn’t leave the palace grounds.” One of the guards said, as if there was some way Logan could be unaware of the fact.

“Return to the party.” The other added, brandishing their blade just a touch to reinforce the point. “Unless you’d like things to get messy.”

Once again, Remy expected Logan to respond with some sort of attack, via a blade hidden in air boot or something of the like.

Once again, Remy expected the wrong thing.

Because instead of attempting to fight the guards, or even to just turn around and head back to the party, Logan simply smiled and said in a voice that didn’t sound entirely like air own, “The king has instructed me to take the lovely queen Maria out, for reasons of his own. Would you stand against the will of the king?”

One of the guards lowered their sword as soon as Logan had finished speaking, looking abashed for having challenged em. They stepped back, indicating that they would allow the two of them to pass.

The other guard hesitated for a moment, sword lowering, but they didn’t step back. “The king’s never done anything like this before. Do you have any proof of your claims?”

“You challenge the king’s wishes?” Logan replied, which Remy thought was a horribly suspicious answer.

The other guard seemingly didn’t agree, however, looking away from Logan as they sheathed their sword and stepped back. “My apologies, my liege.”

Logan curtly nodded once at the guard before moving forwards, having to tug a bit on Remy’s arm to get them to move as well. The guards made no move to ambush them or question them as they passed through the gate, simply remaining to the side, looking away from Logan.

“How did you do that?” Remy whispered to Logan as they passed under the archway of the gate, for a moment left alone in near-darkness.

“Ask me later.” Was Logan’s only response, and a moment later they were on the other side of the gate and the wall, officially outside of the palace. It was nothing much to look at, simply a round parking lot lined with cars and carriages of varying aesthetics, the road leading back towards the rest of society, trees to the left and water to the right, but it was still breathtaking to Remy. The last time they had been outside the castle walls had been nearly a year ago, and the same walls tended to grow boring fast.

“Hey! Is that the queen?!”

Ah, right. The second set of guards. Well, freedom had been sweet while it lasted, at least.

Logan didn’t seem nearly as ready to fold, however, looking between the two new guards and the two new swords being pointed at em as if ay was looking at old friends and balloons.

“It is indeed. The king has requested she be taken outside of the palace, for purposes of her safety.” Logan said, voice smooth and almost honey-like, drawing the guards in and making Remy feel as if everything about the situation was just a bit too sweet tasting. “He wishes all guards to be relocated within the palace walls until the issue has been addressed.”

Just as with the first guard from before, these guards seemed over-eager to do as Logan had asked, nodding at em as they hurried past the two of them and inside the king’s estate. Remy turned to watch them go, and that’s when it clicked.

“You’re an illusionist.” Remy said, turning back to look at Logan, eyes wide behind their sunglasses. “I thought you said you were-”

“I’m both.” Logan answered prematurely, letting go of Remy’s arms and stepping within the circle of parked vehicles. “Pick one of these for me, would you?”

Remy gave a distracted look around before pointing at one of the carriages, one with a framework of gold and crimson red silk wrapped around it. “I didn’t think it was possible to be an empath and an illusionist.”

“It is possible.” Logan responded vaguely as ay moved towards the carriage Remy had pointed out, checking inside of it quickly before moving to stand at the back side of it. “Care to assist me?”

“With what?” Remy inquired even as they came to stand beside Logan.

“We’re going to push this into the ocean.” Logan said, gesturing air head in the direction of the water. “The ground here is packed down hard enough it won’t leave enough tracks for anyone to see. Seeing the missing carriage, the king and his guards will assume we left for the town in it.”

“Where will we actually be?”

“In the forest, on the trail to a place I know you will be safe.” Logan explained as ay put air hands on the back of the carriage. “Could you kick out the block of wood, right up there, in front of the back wheel?”

Remy did so, and the carriage lurched forwards almost immediately, albeit in the wrong direction. They moved to join Logan at the back, helping to push it in the right direction as much as they could.

It took longer than Remy would’ve liked, but soon enough they were at the edge, and the carriage was over it, smashed against the jutting side of the cliff before being swallowed by the waves below. They remained there for a moment, Remy enjoying the feel of sea spray and the smell of the ocean while Logan caught air breath.

“How can you exist?” Remy asked after a few minutes, still watching the crashing and foaming waves as they spoke. “Empaths and illusionists are opposite classes of the same magic. You can’t be both.”

“That’s just something cowards say.” Logan responded, but neither the tone nor the phrasing sat right with Remy. They glanced over, catching Logan’s gaze, and ay sighed.

“I’ve accepted the consequences of my choices. There’s no point in wondering after things that are already set in figurative stone.” Ay said, not leaving any room for follow-up questions. “The sooner we leave, the less likely it is they will catch us. Are you ready to leave, Remy?”

Remy glanced back at the palace, at the harsh stone walls that had imprisoned them, at the tops of the towers they used to wander pointlessly for hours with nothing to do, at the bright lights that had only ever given them horrible headaches.

“I’ve wanted to leave that place even before I was in it.” Remy answered, turning away from it to look at Logan. “Let’s go.”

Logan nodded before turning away from the ocean, leading Remy in the opposite direction.

And with the palace, and everyone and everything within it, behind them, Remy and Logan disappeared into the forest.

#losleep #platonic losleep #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #write losleep cowards #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #genderfluid!remy #nb!logan #i mentally wrote more for this au than i did for this fic skdjf #if y'all confused about anything or just curious let me know because boi oh boi do i have Lore

[intelligentdumbass]

The Golden Apple Incident but-

(Honestly writing this felt like writing a glorified shitpost, so-)

Olympus’ garden was breath-taking; bioluminescent flowers blooming under Selene’s far-reaching gaze as the immortals were having the time of their lives, drunkenly singing under the serene night sky.

Hermes couldn’t help but subtly gaze back at Apollo every now and then, who was talking with one of the muses, when someone caught him off guard by wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He instantly knew who it was the second he smelled the wine in his breath.

“Jealous?~” Dionysus wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermes scoffed. “Jealous of what?”

Dionysus motioned back to the nine sisters. Calliope had her arms wrapped around Apollo’s neck while the god had just given her a small kiss. Hermes rolled his eyes, but, oh little did he know, he was faintly blushing.

The younger brother sighed.

“Look man, if you’re going to keep this up, then you‘re absolutely hopeless. I mean, at this point literally everyone except the distracted blonde you haven’t confessed to knows that you want a piece of that-”

“Hahahaha, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, have you seen Eris? I heard she wasn’t-”

“Hey, don’t change the subject!”

“It’s not what you think! I swear I was just slightly… concerned? I don’t know, he seems a lil off and Cal can prolly sense it too-”

“Pft, excuses excuses-”

Then it happened.

The festivities were suddenly interrupted by their father’s voice thundering across the garden.

“AH-” “What’s this?!”

On his hand he held out an apple as if it was made of pure solid gold. The fruit had struck him on the nose while he was chatting with his siblings. It glimmered and sparkled under the ambient moonlight as if it was enticing all of the immortals to come and have a closer look.

“It… has something engraved onto it? Hold on-” He cleared his throat, and now all eyes were on the king.

“‘It is with my greatest pleasure to present this apple to the loveliest god of them all, a trophy that will stand the test of time, a symbol of the lord’s unrivalled beauty and allure.’”

Whispers echoed throughout the venue, jumping from ear to ear. Now, of course, Zeus would’ve gladly declared himself ownership of the gift as it was thrown at his face. However, barely had a minute passed when the apple was already gone; snatched out of Zeus’ hands by the god of love whose wings immediately threw him up into air as he curiously stared at the prize he was about to award to himself.

“Still the same old insolent piece of shit, huh?”

A golden arrow whizzed out of nowhere, fired from a silver bow and carried by the evening breeze. It narrowly missed Eros’ head and pinned the fruit against one of the trees.

Eros flew after the apple as fast as he could, but by the time he managed to grab a hold of it, there was already another hand, from the archer god himself, and neither party seemed willing to let go.

He hissed. “You arrogant bastard.”

Apollo replied with a shit-eating grin. “Oh please, look whose talking.”

There was one single thought in Hermes’ head. ‘Oh boy.’ He tried to get even closer, running to where Ares and Aphrodite were. He just had to see this.

“Wait!” Athena interrupted, as she was a teensy bit worried that those two were about to murder each other. “This all feels a little… off. We don’t even know where that apple came from-”

“Don’t know; don’t care Misses killjoy!” Eros rolled his eyes. “I can assure you that I sense no malicious auras or weird obscure magic so, perhaps this really is just a gift from some fanatic, at which I am extremely flattered-”

Apollo laughed. “Really, you?? Why on earth would anyone give this to a saucy twink who’s barely taller than Hermes?”

The messenger frowned at the mentioned of his height. Ares gave him a few pats on the back while Dionysus, Artemis and a few other gods snickered. Athena just sighed like she gave up and doesn’t want to involve herself any further. On the other hand, Zeus had stopped trying to come up with a scheme to take back the fruit the second he saw his son want it too. Still though, the way Eros’ and Apollo’s fingers twitched, almost like they wanted to break each other’s necks, was starting to get kind of concerning.

“Okay okay please calm down, both of you.” The last thing Zeus wants is someone’s ichor to be spilled in the middle of a goddamn wedding. “How about-”

“Since you’re the king of the gods, that you be the judge of whoever is deserving to have this apple?” Apollo smiled. “What a wonderful idea father!”

Eros took advantage of that brief distraction of Apollo addressing his father to take the apple and throw it towards his dear mother. “Look, I know he’s usually the one who calls all the final shots, but don’t you think it’d be more fitting to let the literal goddess of beauty decide?”

Zeus thought about it, but decided that choosing between his favorite son and the bastard that could make his libido act up again was a terrible idea. Even Aphrodite herself seemed hesitant to choose and handed the fruit over to Ares because he and Hermes wanted a closer look.

“Uhm, no. I think my very obvious biases would make me one of the least fitting judges for that matter; same goes for Aphrodite. How about… let a mortal who is not part of any of your cults decide, and to please swear not to endanger their life over this.”

 The two gods gave each other a brief death glare before reluctantly agreeing to Zeus’ suggestion.

“Good. Now, where did that apple go?”

They all turned towards Ares, who didn’t have the golden fruit in his hands.

“Dad.” Eros stared. “Where’s the apple?”

“Let’s just say… I got hungry.”

There was a long pause before Eros continued.

“C-Come again?”

“I said what I said; I got hungry and that apple was right there and I got curious so, yeah. Surprisingly tasty-”

“I’m sorry,” Athena just had to interject. “But did you just admit to eating a lump of gold?!”

“Bold of you to assume that would stop the god that broke a chicken’s femur when he bit into its thigh.”

The goddess couldn’t tell if he was faking it and therefore hiding something or if he was actually very serious. Now she really did give up listening in to this conversation and proceeded to walk off to wherever Persephone and Artemis were. It was probably for the best, as it almost looked like she was losing more and more brain cells the longer this situation went on.

Apollo raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Meanwhile, Eros was struggling to process what the fuck just happened. He flew over to Hermes who was trying his best not to laugh his ass off.

“Hermes, do you have something to do with this? Did you steal it??”

“Huh? No, why the hell would I want to steal it?? I may be cocky, but not that kind of self-aggrandizing cocky. I don’t have the golden apple with me.”

Eros narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not-”

“Because he isn’t, all of what Hermes just said is true.” Despite the contents of what he said being perfectly harmless, Apollo sounded like he was about to brake Eros’ back the moment he saw the god of love reach into his quiver.

Eros backed off. “Okay okay, but then what? Is that it?!”

The blonde shrugged. “It appears so.”

“Why do you suddenly act like you don’t care??”

“I mean, of course having a pretty golden apple say you’re the best is great, but in my case it’s kind of unnecessary, isn’t it? Like, duh.” There it was again, that shit-eating grin. “Honestly, it was mostly because I didn’t want YOU to have it and gods fucking forbid you use it to constantly annoy me for the rest of eternity.”

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

Despite the incident that had killed the mood a few minutes ago, the party seemed to be back in full swing now that Aphrodite took Eros back to wherever Psyche was. It was almost like nothing had ever happened.

Hermes, however, was interested in separating himself from everyone else as far as he possibly could, and he had dragged Apollo along with him until they were deep in some obscure part of the garden.

The messenger let out a nervous laugh. “Okay I have something I need to tell you.”

“That what Ares said, even though I can definitely see him doing it just to piss me off, was a red herring and that he hid the apple somewhere before giving it back to you once Aphrodite got Eros to go away?”

“Damn, you know me too well huh?” He took off his hat, revealing the luster of gold resting on his brown chestnut hair.

The archer laughed. “I’m surprised you got him to cooperate.”

“Guess I’m just that likeable! Plus, he owed me one after distracting you for… something.”

“You what-”

The messenger grabbed the apple and placed his cap back on his head. “I didn’t steal it for myself though.” He smiled, “It is with my greatest pleasure to present this apple to the loveliest god of them all, a trophy that will stand the test of time, a symbol of the lord’s unrivalled beauty and allure.” and then offered up the prize to the surprised blonde.

Apollo accepted, mildly flustered. “Is… Is there some sort of ulterior motive to this?”

“I… suppose you could call it that.”

He sighed. “What do you want, Herms?”

“W-Well… it’s nothing big.” There was a sudden faint flush on Hermes’ cheeks. “What about… a kiss?”

The archer stared and the messenger almost started backtracking on his request but, well, the blonde cut him off before he could, with a soft peck on his lips.

#apollo #hermes #hehehe #it was hermapollo in disguise all along- #hermapollo #brofriends #golden apple #the olympians #mywritingshit #greek gods #greek mythology

[marril96]

Extra to the Bone

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Unhinged members of Rowena's former coven kidnap her girlfriend, and she enlists Sam and Dean's help to rescue her.

A/N: I wrote this back in April. It just never felt like the right time to publish it. So I just figured, why not today?

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

The last thing you expected when you went grocery shopping was to be kidnapped by a group of women — girls, really, for even the oldest among them had the minds of adolescents, though it didn't make them any less dangerous.

They appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and before you could utter a spell to protect yourself, they were spouting magic of their own. Strength in numbers, because why play fair when they could gang up on their target?

Girls like them never played fair.

You supposed you should have expected it. After all, it was you who had been warning Rowena about them for months now. All your pleas to be careful fell on deaf ears; they were harmless, Rowena had said, and stood by it. Just an overly enthusiastic group of witches. A coven — hers, once upon a time, now independent, theirs. And, oh, boy, had they made it theirs.

Rowena considered them nothing more than a nuisance. A part of her, you assumed, was flattered by their antics, even as they leveled up from annoying to creepy and, in what seemed like no time, stalkerish. Even when the two of you had put on a new set of warding on your home — just in case they managed to track you down — Rowena had insisted you were safe. They adored her. They wanted her attention, her approval. They weren't interested in you.

Until today when, apparently, they were, and, god, it sucked. You hated them. Loathed them from the depths of your soul. Less than pleasant (to say the least) words burned at your tongue, itching to break free, to set loose at them, but before you could utter anything, a piece of cloth was pressed over your mouth, and, moment by moment, everything went black.

As you faded into nothingness, it wasn't fear that occupied your thoughts. Or worry, or desire to rip them apart.

It was, Damn, they can't even knock me out with magic.

Some witches they were.

*****

It wasn't every day that Rowena showed up at the Bunker — willingly — but desperate times called for desperate measures. She stormed in without even ringing the bell and started shouting for Sam and Dean as if her life depended on it.

Yours, however much she wanted to deny it, might have.

"Y/N's been taken!" she yelled when the brothers showed up, looking at her as if she'd grown a second head.

It was Sam who spoke first. "What? Taken by whom?"

"The Extra Coven!"

Dean raised his eyebrows, baffled. "The what?"

"The Extra Coven!" Rowena repeated in the voice of someone announcing the antichrist's second coming. Or was it third, at this point?

"What's the Extra Coven?" Sam inquired.

Now wasn't that a story? "It's a coven of rather mediocre witches," she explained, face contorting with disgust at the memories that flooded her brain. Screeching. Cheering. The pride she used to beam with at the sight of those girls, which quickly became unease as their antics, once cute, precious, became uncomfortable. "My former coven, to be precise."

Sam frowned. "Your former coven?"

"Aye." Rowena's cheeks flushed with shame. It wasn't something she looked back on fondly — not anymore. "After the Mega Coven fiasco, I tried again. Y/N wasn't too thrilled at the idea—" and that was putting it lightly "—but I wanted a coven of my own." She wanted the admiration. The adoration. The Grand Coven had taken it from her, and she wanted it back.

You were right there, loving her more than anything in the world, but she didn't appreciate it. Not nearly enough. Her icy heart had started to melt at that point; she could tell you cared, and she was starting to realize she felt something, too. Something she, at the time, was too afraid to give in to, to even attempt to understand. It was just there, and it was terrifying.

Amara had just been dealt with, the world saved, and Rowena was left confused. All the power she sought, all the magic wasn't enough anymore. She felt… empty. Without purpose. Brimming with feelings she was too frightened to explore. If two divine beings couldn't figure their lives out, what hope was there for her?

So she'd decided to try for a new coven. It was a new world. New beginning. New Rowena. You'd told her it wasn't the best idea, but she was adamant to give it a try. What was the worst that could happen?

"I named it the Extra Coven, because Extra is better than Mega," she continued with a grin, which earned her puzzled stares. She ignored them. People never appreciated her genius. "Things were going well at first. The girls were learning fast, everybody got along. Then a few of them started getting… odd."

Odd was too mild a word. They'd started showing up at Rowena's hotel room unannounced, bearing gifts and jolly smiles. Every magic lesson she started would be interrupted by the select few individuals asking irrelevant questions. Often they would demand help, even if the spell they were being taught was easy; they would pout and whine, and when Rowena would approach them to go over it step by step, they would dissolve into giggles.

At first Rowena was flattered. Attention was like a drug to her; the more she got, the more she craved it. So what if it was a tad unconventional? Those girls admired her. Cherished her. Loved her. She could do no wrong in their eyes. When you complained they were taking a bit too much of her time, she dismissed you. So a few of them would show up at her hotel room for some after-hours tutoring, or they would take her to dinner to the most expensive restaurant in the city — so what? What was wrong in being pampered by her proteges?

As time went on, though, Rowena's enthusiasm withered. The Extra Coven was doing well, for the most part. Most of the witches were hard workers, genuinely interested in the craft and, at the same time, mesmerized by her presence. Fans, one might call them. They were kind and friendly, and they did as they were told. Rowena was beaming with pride.

However, as the rest of the group was growing into a true coven, the girls that had taken so much of her time had started to demand even more. It was always the same five girls. They never seemed to be improving; they asked for help, but they never took her advice. She might as well have taught the wall. They wanted after-hours lessons, but never learned anything. All they appeared to be interested in was being around her. The fact would have flattered Rowena had they not gone about it in such a way.

Your warnings suddenly started making sense. They weren't in the coven for the experience of witchcraft. They were there to be close to her. It had gotten to the point where, if you happened to be talking to her, one of the girls would butt in to reclaim the attention for themselves. The first few times it looked like a coincidence. However, it soon became clear they saw you as an obstacle. You were Rowena's girlfriend. You lived with her. You shared a bed with her. It was you she kissed on the mouth, and who had her undivided attention.

They'd engaged in a war that didn't exist and they were intent on winning.

Seeing you in distress too many times for her liking, Rowena had decided that enough was enough. She'd started declining invitations to lunch and dinner. When she taught, she kept her distance. After-hours lessons were officially stopped. That didn't stop those five girls from showing up at her door every night to ask for them, so, after the third time, Rowena stopped answering and pretended she wasn't home.

It did nothing to deter them, so, after a lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to move. Rowena was sick of being disrespected, of her privacy being invaded. She cared about the coven, about those girls who genuinely wanted to learn, but she couldn't do it anymore. Her announcement that she was leaving the coven was met with tears and disappointment. Something had come up, she'd said, and she needed to go away. Indefinitely. She wished them the best of luck, but she couldn't be their mentor anymore.

The two of you traveled half across the country and settled in a fabulous hotel, breathing in relief at finally regaining your freedom.

Then, a week after you'd arrived, a knock sounded on the door, and when Rowena opened it, she was met with five smiley, very familiar faces.

The same thing happened five more times, each in a different city, different hotel. Wherever she went, they'd managed to find her. And each time, they acted as if it were a coincidence. As if they just happened to be there and came across her door by pure luck.

Rowena wasn't born yesterday.

Sam and Dean stared at her in shock as she told her story. "When Y/N and I settled down, we put wardings around the house to block tracking spells," she said. "All was fine until today."

She supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later. The peace had lasted three years, almost four — considering those girls' track record, it was good. She should have dealt with it at the start. Should have cut it off at the root before it managed to grow and blossom. Annoying her was one thing. Taking you was crossing the line.

They would pay. Rowena swore it on her life.

"How do you know it's them?" Dean asked.

Rowena held up a glittery hex bag. "They left this." Right there by the road, where they'd taken you, alongside your wallet. A loud and clear message.

He nodded. "How dangerous are they?"

"They are more of a nuisance. But it's been three years. Who knows what they're capable of."

For all she knew, they could have found another witch to tutor them, to help them perfect their craft. They were far from good witches, but even the worst behaved dog could learn a trick or two.

"Great," Dean said with a sigh. "Crazy stalker witches who may or may not be dangerous."

"Welcome to my life," Rowena said dryly.

"Do you know where we can find them?" Sam asked.

She smirked. "Och, aye." They weren't trying to hide from her (not that they could; she was more powerful than all of them combined). They wanted her to come to them, to bless them with her presence. All Rowena needed were reinforcements, just in case, and she was good to go.

This is the one attention demand they would come to regret.

*****

As far as villain hideous went, the Extra Coven's was standard. An abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere. Sort of cliche, though Rowena supposed that was the point. They wanted her to find them. They were counting on it.

What kind of an idol would she be if she didn't deliver?

She elected to go in first. Sam and Dean advised against it, but she was adamant. The Coven wanted her. Adored her so much they'd kidnapped her girlfriend to get her attention. They wouldn't hurt her. The Winchesters were there as backup, in case they turned out to be more powerful than she predicted.

Your face greeted her upon opening the door. You were seated on a sofa, bound in iron chains. Powerless. Helpless. Your lips were tight in anger, features arranged in a matching expression. Pissed to high heavens.

Rowena was relieved to see no marks on your body, no bruises or welts. You were unharmed. A point for the Coven, not that it mattered much. Being so obsessed with her, they surely knew she wasn't big on forgiveness. If they'd hurt her, she might have considered giving them a second chance. But they went after you. There was no forgiving that. No letting them get away with it.

A long time ago, Rowena had made a promise to never let anything happen to you. She intended to make good on it.

"Rowena!" one of the Coven girls, a perky brunette with curls, exclaimed just as you were about to call for her.

"You came!" another, a blonde, said in awe.

There were five of them in total, all bright eyed, excited, as if this were the highlight of their lives. As if they hadn't kidnapped a girl — an innocent girl — in order to get Rowena's attention. It made Rowena sick. Anger burned in her veins, and with it her magic; it roiled and coiled, boiling hot, ready to burst at her command.

If they loved her so much, surely they knew you were off limits. They'd seen her curse people over insulting you — hell, over looking at you the wrong way. You were her number one priority.

They had made a horrible mistake.

"Girls," she said in a tone that made it clear she wasn't happy to be here. Not by a long shot.

They either didn't notice or didn't care for as soon as she addressed them their faces lit up.

"I can't believe you came!"one of them — a horribly dyed ginger — said. "I thought we'd never see you again."

That was why they'd kidnapped you. Because they totally didn't believe she would come to your rescue. Rowena scoffed. Right. "You've certainly been… persuasive."

"It was Greta's idea," the ginger — Sandra? Rowena was pretty sure her name was Sandra — said happily, pointing to a pudgy brunette.

Of course it was. "I expected nothing less."

Greta had always been the most enthusiastic one of the group. The one who butted in everywhere, and sought her attention the most. At times Rowena thought she was living on it. Her praise was like a drug to the girl.

She turned to you. Looked you over one more time just to be sure. "Are you alright, dear?"

"I guess," you said with a shrug. You rattled your binds. "These chains are uncomfortable."

"Have they hurt you?"

"No."

Rowena breathed out in relief. At least there was that. One point for the Extra Coven, she supposed. Not that it mattered much. They still took you, and they would pay for that. Rules were rules.

"They kinda suck, to be honest," you said after a few moments. "I mean, they knocked me out with chloroform. Who does that?"

Rowena raised an eyebrow. Really, who did that? What self-respecting witch resorted to chloroform to incapacitate her target?

"Shut up!" the other redhead, Victoria, screamed.

"Lass," Rowena said in a barely raised voice, tone more strict than threatening, but it was enough to shut the girl up. You snorted, and Rowena barely resisted a smirk of her own. It felt good to have so much power over people. To have them obey her every command. She just wished it was under better circumstances.

"Rowena, are you—" Sam suddenly rushed in, followed by Dean, both with guns raised, witch-killing bullets ready to fire.

"What the hell?" Dean stared at the girls, looked them over one by one. "These are grown-ass women!"

"Never underestimate the power of crazy. "Like she had, and look where it had gotten her. Where it had gotten you. Even when they were stalking her, she thought them nothing but a nuisance.

You were right about them all along.

Rowena dreaded that conversation at home.

The girls gasped in surprise.

"You brought hunters?" the blonde said, outraged. As if she'd been punched in the gut.

Once Rowena was done with her, she would wish she was. "What in hell did you expect?" She was done with their antics. Done with the fake smiles and pleasantries. "You kidnapped my girlfriend!" The words were bitter on her tongue. Poison. "Was I supposed fall to my knees and beg to get her back?"

"We didn't hurt her!" Sandra said, as if that made everything better.

"We just wanted to see you," Greta said.

"I didn't want to see you," Rowena retorted. "Can't you take a bloody hint?"

"But—"

"I've had a wonderful coven, and the five of you ruined it!" The other girls were there to learn, to hone their magic, to find a place where they belonged. They were lovely proteges, on a surefire way to greatness. They could have accomplished a lot had Rowena not been forced to leave them behind. All because of five rotten, selfish girls. "I left because of you!"

All five paled. Teared up like children being chastised by a teacher.

"Don't say that," the curly brunette said. Begged. Pleaded.

"It's true."

"We love you," Victoria said.

"You're bloody sick!" Rowena snapped. "You've ruined the Coven, and you've tried to ruin my life!"

Tears fell. Sobs and sniffles sounded. Good, Rowena thought. It was time they learned the truth.

"We just—"

She put up a hand. "I don't want to hear it! I don't want anything to do with you!"

"You don't mean that," Sandra whimpered.

Och, she did. She meant it more than anything in the world. "Release Y/N," she said — ordered, really, for her voice was nothing but stone, cold and cruel. No mercy. No sympathy.

"Are you gonna leave if we do?" Greta asked.

Oh, Rowena thought, she was going to do more than that. Much more. "What do you think?"

"Please, don't," Victoria begged, red-faced and puffy-eyed.

Rowena wasn't in the mood for theatrics. "Release her. Now."

"No." It was Sandra who said it, brave face on in its full glory. As fake as the colour of her hair. Rowena raised an eyebrow. "Why should she get to have you and not us?"

Because you were her girlfriend. Because she loved you more than she'd ever loved anyone. Because you understood her like no one else ever had. Because you'd never judged her, never tried to change her. Because you loved her as the petty, flawed, formerly evil creature she was.

She couldn't expect these girls to understand that. They didn't even know what love was, their obsession twisting their hearts, turning them dark. Consuming them from the inside. They were addicts, really. Chasing a high that would never come. Desperate. As angry as she was, Rowena pitied them. It must have been a horrible life, to be so lonely amongst so many people. To crave something they could never have.

"She doesn't deserve you," Greta agreed.

"Wow," Dean said, flabbergasted.

And really, wow. Who were they to say you didn't deserve her? Who were they to even think it? They knew nothing about you. They barely knew anything about Rowena.

She blinked, two times, three. Baffled. Outraged. Blood burning white hot in her veins. "Beg pardon?"

"Greta's right," Victoria said. "Y/N doesn't deserve you. She doesn't love you like we do."

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" the blonde said. "We looked everywhere for you. We knew we'd find you." She threw a filthy look at you. "She'd never do that."

Well, they were right about that. You gave her space when she needed it. You respected her wishes.

You wouldn't stalk her.

"She doesn't love you," the curly-haired girl said.

"If she did," Sandra said, "she wouldn't have left you alone."

Rowena swallowed an array of swears that itched at her throat and uttered, "Huh."

So it was like that. They didn't just feel entitled to her. They felt entitled to act as if they knew you. Who gave them the right? They didn't know her, and they knew you even less. They had no right to take you from her. They had even less of a right to judge you. And based on what? Envy? Entitlement?

It was time to end this charade. Rowena thought she could do it the diplomatic way, but it was clear the Coven wasn't here for negotiations. They wanted war, and they would bloody have it.

"You should have listened to me, girls," she said, finally calm, at peace. Relieved to have given herself permission to do what was necessary. "I'd planned for this to be painless, but you left me no other choice."

Sandra frowned. "What do you mean?"

"As you rot in Hell, remember that you chose this," Rowena said. As their faces paled, and fear settled into their eyes, she spat, "Impetus Bestiarum!"

The girls stilled. Their eyes, so bright a mere moment ago, filled up with ripe, rich red. Blood slid down their cheeks like tears. Humanity gone, they were beasts; wild, feral. Ravenous.

Rowena allowed herself to smile at her accomplishment, allowed a relieved sigh to leave her mouth. They got their wish, she supposed. They were hers. Her pets. Her puppets, and she was the one holding the strings.

She looked them in the eyes — in those wild red eyes that were no longer human, that flashed with hunger and rage, and craved orders to attack, to finally set the beast free. Rowena was all too happy to oblige. "End it."

For a moment they just stared at her, still as statues. Then, as more blood fell down their cheeks and veins dark as bruises bloomed all over their faces, they lunged at each other with the ferocity of werewolves at the height of the full moon. They ripped and slashed and tore and roared. Blood seeped free. Screams let loose. Teeth dug into necks, and nails bit into arms and backs.

The chaos lasted no more than a minute, and by the time it was over, all that remained were pools of blood and torn strands of hair strewn around. The girls' bodies laid in a messy heap. Every inch of exposed skin was torn, bloody. Faces so ripped apart they were unrecognizable.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then Dean said, "You've gotta stop doing that."

Rowena smiled, smug, proud of her feat. "Effective, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Maybe a bit… too effective."

She took it as a compliment.

"It was awesome!" you said, grinning like the proud girlfriend you were.

"Why thank you! At least someone appreciates my talent."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

"You okay?" Sam asked as he and his brother started working on the chains.

"Yeah," you said. "Just uncomfortable."

As soon as you were free, you threw your arms around Rowena and squeezed as if your life depended on it. Reluctantly, she returned the embrace; she wasn't one for public displays of affection, especially in front of the Winchesters, but she couldn't push you away. It felt good to have you so close again. To feel your heartbeat on her skin. To hold you and love you and hope with everything she had that this would never happen again, that no one would ever get their hands on you again. Not in this lifetime.

"I knew you'd come for me," you said.

She always had, and always would. "You were right about The Extra Coven." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but it was only fair, after everything that had happened. You deserved that much. "I should have killed them a long time ago."

You pulled back. Looked her in the eyes. "It's nice to know I was right, for once," you teased.

"Don't get used to it," Rowena said with a chuckle.

"I'll enjoy it while it lasts." Your eyes wandered to the blood-caked bodies. "What about the rest of the Coven?"

"I don't think they will be a problem. They're lovely girls." Were it not for the five stalkers, Rowena would have most likely still been in the Coven. "These five were the ones causing trouble. Without them, I think they will prosper."

"You thinking about contacting them?"

"Maybe." If only to check up on them. To see how they would function without the extremists. You frowned. "Don't worry, darling. I've no plans to lead them again."

"Good," you said, grabbing hold of her hand. "I don't think I wanna share you."

Rowena smiled. "I'm all yours."

And you were hers.

And so it would remain for as long as you both lived.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie​ @oswinthestrange​ @songofthecagedmoose​ @apurdyfulmind​ @getthesalt-sam​ @metallihca​ @salembitchtrials @jay-eris​ @hellsmother​ @elizabeth-effie​ @shadowgirl-vsb​ @rowenaswife​ @wonderifshelikesroses​ @xfireandsin​ @liddell-alien​ @hotdiggitydammit​ @lae-lae​ @darkhumorsblog​ @angel7376​ @cherrypierowena​ @evil-regal-vampiress​ @hellbentredhead​ @angel-e-v-a​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @theeasterbilby​ @midnight-lestrange​ @oster-hagen​ @impala-1979​

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #my fics #fanfiction

[pufflyhallows]

Gravity (II)

gif not mine

This is Part 2 of the Soulmate!AU I wrote for George. You can read Part 1 here. I hope you like it!

Warnings: same as before

Word count: 3,091

********

When Hannah’s favorite song ended, you expected the girls to come back to where you were, but they didn’t. You tried to spot them among the students dancing, but it was too dark and you couldn’t really see people’s faces. After the following song ended too, you started to think that they were not leaving the ‘dance-floor’ anytime soon.

The snacks table wasn’t far from you, so you walked over there and placed the bowls on it. You looked at the dance-floor again, spotting Hannah with a boy you didn’t know. You caught her eye and she mouthed ‘just one more’ at you, discretely pointing at the boy dancing with her. You gave her a short, understanding smile and nodded. She smiled back, turning her attention to the boy. Susan was nowhere to be found, though.

You decided to walk around and explore the room. You saw Justin and Megan, but decided not to interrupt them.

“Looking for someone?” you heard behind you.

Turning around, you met George’s eyes. “N-No, not really. I’m just… walking.”

“This place is awesome, isn’t it? Every party is completely different.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. This is my first.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Is my awkwardness that obvious?”

“No,” he chuckled, “It’s just that I’d have noticed you.”

You let out a laugh through your nose, “I highly doubt it. But thanks.”

“Who did you come with?”

“Hannah Abbott,” you replied, then realizing he probably had no idea of who she was. “Who was invited by Ernie Macmillan, who happens to be-”

“Emma’s soulmate. I know him.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your nervousness increasing with the mention of the subject.

Please don’t ask to see it.

“And where is she? Hannah?”

“She’s dancing with this boy. I don’t know if he’s the one or not, but she seemed to enjoy his company.”

“And that’s enough for the moment, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I guess it depends on the person.”

It was normal for people to go out with other people before they found their soulmate. After all, it could take decades. But you weren’t quite sure if you liked the idea.

“And if the person is you…?”

“Then it’s not enough. If anything, it’s a start.”

Silence settled between you two and you wished with all your heart that he hadn’t taken it as you brushing him off.

“And where are your friends?” you asked, trying to change the course of that conversation before it went any deeper.

“Enjoying the party, I’m assuming,” he replied with a shy smirk, mimicking you from before.

“So... Um... Why aren’t you enjoying it with them?”

“I thought that maybe I could, you know, enjoy it with you instead.”

You blinked a few times, taking in his words.

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” he added.

You couldn’t possibly know, but George was nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t said what you just said. Not that you had said anything wrong, but the meanings behind words are infinite.

He was aware of the fact that you two didn’t really know each other and you could simply not want to hang out with a stranger, but he also liked to think that this was different. He couldn’t be a total stranger if you had an inside joke, right?

He then chose to believe the one meaning in which you were just making small talk, and not the one in which you wanted him go away.

“No, no!” you said, slightly more desperate than you intended, “I mean, I want to. I’d love to.”

“Great,” he smiled, truly relieved. “So, you’re friends with Emma?”

“No. I just met her, actually.”

“She’s the coolest. She plans all the parties we throw here and they’re all awesome. Ernie is really lucky if she’s his soulmate.”

And there’s the word again.

“She’s really lucky too. Ernie is one of the best people I know.”

“A bit uptight, I would say. But maybe that’s why he’s her soulmate. Opposites attract.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulous. “Ernie is not uptight.”

“He’s the Hufflepuff prefect,” George laughed.

“So?”

“Prefect. Come on.”

“You have something against prefects, don’t you? I heard you hexed the Slytherin.”

“That was unrelated to his prefect status. The guy was just a dick.”

You laughed. “This is really interesting, considering your brother is Percy Weasley, who people refer to as the best Head Boy Hogwarts had in years.”

“Oh, my God. Who do you talk to?” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I hope it wasn’t Ernie who said that. Poor Emma.”

“It wasn’t Ernie. There’s no need to pity Emma,” you joked. “But maybe I get why you don’t like prefects and such. Sometimes, and I do want to emphasize that it is sometimes, Hannah won’t let us do something because it’s against the rules. If Percy is a hardcore version of Hannah, then I understand.”

“Trust me, Percy is Hannah times ten.”

“How weren’t you expelled when he was here, then?”

“There’s always the possibility of me and Fred being extremely smart, you know.”

You giggled. “I know.”

George smiled and looked down. He had downed a shot of Firewhiskey a few minutes before approaching you, but the effects of the liquid courage seemed to be fading away. Well, actually, they clearly had faded away already.

“So,” you said, making him look back at you. “This is your last party in Hogwarts, huh?”

“Yeah...” he sighed. “I’ll miss this place.”

“Really?” you sounded legitimately surprised, “Won’t you finally feel free or something?”

“Well, yes. But the last seven years were good ones. And I’ll be leaving friends behind. New friends too.”

You smiled timidly. “Letters exist for a reason.”

“You know it’s not the same.”

“But it’s something. And, in my very unimportant opinion, there are things that are better expressed when written rather than spoken.”

“Your opinion is not unimportant,” he shook his head. “But what kind of things are you talking about?”

“You know, delicate subjects. Subjects which we have to carefully think about and wisely choose words for. That’s the magic behind letters. You get to sit down and think. Sit down and choose what you really want to say. Instead of rambling incoherently until the other person guesses what you mean.”

“Like a love letter.”

“Or a departure letter.”

“Or any letter for that matter. I see what you mean,” he nodded.

“And you agree?”

“I don’t know. I think that there are things that should be discussed in person, you know?”

“Well, yes. But some of us simply don’t have enough courage,” you chuckled lightly, realizing that the conversation had indeed gone deeper. “So we hide behind parchment and ink.”

“We?”

“Me,” you admitted. “I am not as brave as it might have looked like last night.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of braveness or courage. It’s simply different ways of expressing yourself. One is not better than the other.”

“Maybe different occasions and different subjects require different communication. Who knows?”

“I certainly don’t and I feel outsmarted by you right now.”

“Oh, come on. You got all poetic seconds ago!” you chuckled, being followed by him.

“Seriously, though. I’ll miss it. I hope you take care of that corridor for us. Don’t let people ruin it.”

“How would they ruin it?”

“They might take it for granted and stop sneaking and start to just go there. Then Filch will find out and work out a way of keeping everyone away except for the Hufflepuffs.”

“Oh… So we’ll be free from intruders? Sounds good to me.”

“I knew you would say that,” he grinned.

“I might warn Filch myself,” you teased.

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” he shook his head. “You wouldn’t be that uptight.”

“Maybe I want to be known for my rightfulness, like your beloved brother Percy.”

“He was also known for walking around with a stick up his-”

“Georgie! There you are,” Fred Weasley threw his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Lee and I were looking for you.”

“I was here describing our brother Percy’s anatomy to Y/N.”

“Oh! Did you tell her about the pumpkin instead of a brain?”

“Jesus Christ,” you chuckled.

“I was getting there,” George replied, “What do you want?”

“You to hang out with us. Come on!”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stay here with Y/N.”

“Y/N should come too!” Fred looked at you, then finally recognizing ‘Y/N’. “Oh! Y/N! What a surprise,” he smirked. “I hope you noticed the big snacks table at the other side of the room. Plenty of food there.”

“Oh, I did. I just don’t understand your concern,” you frowned jokingly.

“There is no concern at all,” his smirk widened. “Anyway, are you two coming or not?”

“Again, thanks, brother. But we’ll stay here.”

“Okay, then. See you around,” Fred had a slightly different expression on his face as he looked at the two of you before walking away. You couldn’t stop yourself from feeling flattered by George’s insistence in staying alone with you. And also nervous.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” he asked.

“A Butterbeer would be just fine,” you answered timidly.

“I’ll be right back.”

As he left, you rubbed your hands on your uniform. With all the people in the room, he wanted to stay with you?! You were just… a Hufflepuff. And he was George Weasley, the fun guy, Gryffindor beater, popular prankster, talented and handsome as hell. You saw the look in girls’ faces when he came in with the team – all of them looked like they fancied him, and they were so much more interesting than you.

You crossed your arms, then uncrossed them. You ran your fingers through your hair, putting  it to one side, then to the other, then leaving it like it was… You didn’t know how to act.

When George came back with your drink, you tried to relax a little bit.

“Here,” he offered you the bottle.

“Thanks,” you reached out to get it, but the look in his eyes stopped you. Your long sleeve was slightly pulled back, due the movement of your arm, and was showing just enough skin of your wrist. George’s eyes stared intensely at it – he seemed to be in shock.

You looked at it too, confused to say the least. However, realization hit you as fast as your eyes reached your skin, and panic made its way to your heart not long after. You immediately pulled down your sleeve, feeling ashamed and exposed.

“Is- Is that-” he gulped, his eyes still fixed on your (now) covered wrist. “Is that a flower?”

You didn’t know what to say – should you deny it? He had seen it already, what was the point?

“Y-Yeah.”

“I-”

“Listen, I have to go to the bathroom real quick,” you interrupted him, already stepping back.

“Y/N-”

“I’ll be right back,” you lied, leaving right after.

You walked fast through the students until you reached the door. You opened it just in time to meet Susan, who was coming in.

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

You walked right past her, heading to the closest bathroom you could find, which happened to be on the same floor.

You entered one of the stalls and locked the door. Your breathing was intense, your cheeks were red and warm, your heart beating faster and faster. You sat on the toilet and covered your face with your hands, feeling so much embarrassment – if anyone asked why, you couldn’t really say, you just did.

After a while of calming down, you decided to go back to your dorm and hide for the rest of your life. You couldn’t look in George’s eyes again, he seemed so disappointed. Your tattoo was probably the lamest he had ever seen. Is that a flower?

You left the stall in slow steps, pulling down your long sleeve and shutting your hand tight. How could you have been so absent-minded at that moment? You ruined it completely, there was no fixing.

The mirror above one of the sinks showed the reflection of a very jaded girl while she washed her face as if to wash the embarrassment away.

You held each side of the sink and stared at the mirror, breathing in and out. There was no need for such nervousness, right? George was going to forget it in no time and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. The two of you were from different houses, different years, different social circles, different everything. There was no class you would have to be anxious about, no assignment you would have to fear, nothing. You would get on with your life and he would get on with his and neither one of you would have to talk about it, simply because there was no reason to. You weren’t friends and this wasn’t actually important.

And when the school year ended, it would be over.

You walked away from the sink and headed for the bathroom door. You stopped at it and pulled down your sleeve, squeezing your hand shut. You took a deep breath and stepped out.

As soon as your foot touched the floor outside, a tall figure approached you from the left.

“Y/N.”

George was looking at you with a nervous expression on his face. And to be completely honest with yourself, he looked way more nervous than you.

“Hey,” you mumbled shyly, “Um… I’m not feeling very well, so I think I’m gonna go back to my dorm and… you know, rest or something.”

“Okay,” he nodded, gulping, “Let me just show you something first.”

“What?” you asked expectantly.

George raised his closed hand to the level of his stomach and seemed to hesitate for a second, looking at it and chewing on his bottom lip. He slowly held it out for you, hand still closed, and with his other one he started pulling up his long sleeve until it showed his wrist… and tattoo. The exact same tattoo as yours. The exact same flower in the exact same color and shape and size and everything.

You looked at it in a trance, like you were dreaming. This could not be real at all. You could not have just found your soulmate. And your soulmate could not be George fucking Weasley.

A million thoughts came rushing through your mind, impossible to keep track of. What were you supposed to do now? What did people do when they found the one? What if your soulmate didn’t like you? What if your soulmate wasn’t happy that you were their soulmate?

“Say something,” George whispered.

“I-” you shook your head, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Me neither,” he chuckled lightly and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. At the very least, he wasn’t upset.

“What do we do now?” you asked, still staring at your tattoo’s twin.

“I don’t know, Y/N. This is my first time meeting my soulmate.”

You looked up at him and smiled timidly, receiving a wide grin back.

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he confessed.

“Why? You don’t even know me,” you replied honestly.

“You had me when you pulled that thing on me and Fred last night,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I think it should’ve pissed me off, but it just made me smile for the rest of the night. I don’t know why, to be honest. Maybe it’s simply because of what we just found out.”

“Maybe it’s that,” you nodded, feeling incredibly weird about it. Could you have effects on your soulmate before you knew they were your soulmate?

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do you feel?”

You paused, studying his face. “Relieved” you admitted, “Relieved you’re happy. Something I always feared about the ‘finding your soulmate’ thing was the possibility of my soulmate not liking me. Or, you know, being disappointed it’s me. So yeah, I’m relieved. At the very least we don’t hate each other.”

“That’s a way of looking at it,” he smiled shyly. “I’ll let you rest now. When you feel better, we can talk more.”

“Oh, I’m…” you blushed, completely embarrassed. “I’m okay. We can talk now. If you want, that is.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“What do you wanna do about it? I mean, what do people normally do?” you asked. To say you were nervous and scared was an understatement. The unknown was very scary, the future was very scary. You were afraid it wouldn’t work out, he was leaving Hogwarts after all. Many questions sprouted in your head and you could only hope he had the answers for most of them.

“They normally go out on dates,” he said. “But… Who said we have to do what everyone else does?”

“What do you mean?”

“We could pretend we’re not soulmates. We could go back to that party and pick up from where we left off. No pressure. No hurry. Just two people getting to know each other.”

You smiled. “I like that idea very much.”

“And we don’t make plans. We just live. One day after the other.”

“I’m up for that. I don’t want us to follow a list of steps and do this mechanically.”

“Me neither,” he shook his head. “I’m terrified of that, actually.”

“Me too.”

You looked at each other and a wave of relief, happiness and affection washed over both of you. You also felt at peace and grateful. George felt his nervousness leave his body. It felt good. It felt good to have found your soulmate and it felt good to know that your soulmate was… well, like you! It felt good to have someone so understanding by your side, someone who didn’t judge you as you confessed your fears and worries. Someone who listened to you and actually cared about what you had to say. Someone who was patient when different opinions were presented. Someone who looked past the flaws and divergences and focused on what brought two people together.

Your heart was full. You were full. And now that George Weasley, your soulmate, was right here in front of you, you felt thankful for a muggle word: gravity. Because if that didn’t exist, your long sleeve would have stayed in place and you wouldn’t be looking in George’s eyes like they deserved to be looked at.

And as he intertwined his fingers with yours and took you back to the party, that old habit and obsessive manner stayed there at the bathroom door, and inconvenient questions would never be asked again.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x reader #george weasley soulmate #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #random tag #i'm stupid

[mhdiaries]

Classroom Cleo de Nile & Ghoulia Yelps Mad Science Class Journal

Today was the dreaded “Choosing of Partners for Group Projects” although it could just be me that dreads it. I guess it is because there always seems to be a fight to see who gets to be my partner. I suppose that is an arrogant thing to write but it is true. In some ways it is flattering in other ways, not so much. Even Manny Taur goes out of his way to be nice to me. He is not exactly good at it, but he does try. Mr. Hackington decided this year to try and mitigate the chaos by putting all our names into a skull and drawing them out two at a time. There was some complaining about this new development until he finally said, “You get what you gets and you don’t pitch a fit!” My parents used to tell me that when I was a little ghoul, well probably not the way Mr. Hackington said it but he got his point across. Regardless, at least it keeps me from having to say “yes” to one classmate and “no” to the rest. 

Cleo complained the loudest about the new system until our names got pulled as partners... sigh... I love Cleo and she is my beast friend ever but I was really hoping for... well it does not matter. He got paired up with Frankie and I am sure they will do just fine. Normally having Cleo as a partner means... it means the extra credit work I usually do when I am working on a project by myself seems to be enough for both of us to an “A”. Cleo’s main functions include reminding me to do things I have already done and calling Deuce to bring us lunch or lattes. Not that I complain too much about that, and Deuce does have a way of keeping Cleo focused. She also insists on giving the final presentation, which usually goes well since she does command attention. This time though our assignment is to research the Science of Perfume, and then our final project will be to create our very own fragrance. I must say that I was completely surprised by Cleo’s enthusiasm for the project. I am not sure whether to be excited or frightened by this development. 

Finally a project worthy of my royal attention! I must say on past projects I have allowed Ghoulia to do the dragon’s share of the work but this is something I can really get my bandages wrapped around. When we still lived in Egypt, before “the difficulties”, one of my jobs was to oversee the royal perfumers. Nefera used to tell me that it was a job reserved for “a princess who would never become queen” but I didn’t care. While Nefera was in some dreadfully boring meeting about how much grain would be harvested for the year or where to build the next royal monument, I would go down and meet the trade caravans. They would be loaded with spices, oils and exotic flowers from the South and East, and the air was always filled with their fragrance. The royal perfumers and I would choose the best of everything to be had, then they would take the ingredients back to their perfumery and work their magic. I always wanted to join them as they cooked, ground and mixed the different ingredients to make perfume and scented oils, but this was looked upon as a task beneath a princess, so I could only watch. Now that I have a chance to get my hands dirty, so to speak, I can’t wait to get started. 

I have been pleasantly surprised by Cleo’s contributions to our project. She has really taken the dragon by the horns and unlike past projects together, I have had to “run” to keep up with her. Her enthusiasm and deadication to the project are quite refreshing and she has filled my in box with recipes and suggestions. So for the first time in, well, ever, I am feeling like the “weak link” in an academic setting. I find myself not entirely liking it, which makes me feel just a tiny bit selfish and unneeded. Yes, I know that this is completely illogical, but what if it becomes a habit? Will I lose my place in the group if my brainpower is no longer needed?... #DepressingThought

Ghoulia seems to be off her game lately. Usually she’s the zombie equivalent to a ball of energy when it comes to these projects, but lately she’s gone completely passive on me. It’s starting to scare me, and not in a good way. I admit to being more than a bit self-absorbed, but I can always tell when something is really wrong with one of my friends. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she was fine. I know better than to press her on it, or she’ll just retreat into her brain’s fortress of solitude and not come out for days. I suppose I’ll just wait until she’s ready to talk, but I really want her input. She’s my beast friend, and I want us to have fun together on this project. 

I told my mom I did not feel well today and stayed home from school. It was not a lie, but it was not because of a physical ailment, either. Cleo called me several times, but I chose not to answer my iCoffin. I mostly stayed in bed and then I thought maybe I really was getting sick since I did not feel like eating and could not generate enough excitement to read the newest issue of Dead Fast. Apparently my absence was noted, and the cavalry descended on my house after school. I heard the doorbell ring and then I heard the front door open. The voices of Cleo, Frankie, Lagoona, Draculaura and Clawdeen all called out to my mother, “We’re here!” I could smell the aroma of baking cookies drifting out of the kitchen - I thought she gave in to my request to stay home a little too easily. They all headed to the kitchen except for Cleo. I heard her heading down the hall toward my room - I knew it was Cleo because she has a very distinctive gait. She got to my door, knocked once and walked in. “All right, ghoul friend, what, in the name of Bast’s cats is going on with you?” I said nothing was wrong with me but Cleo was in one of her “royal moods”, and I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was going to pester me until I gave her an answer, so I did. I told her how I felt about my role on the project and how I was afraid that my intellectual abilities were the only reason that she and the rest of the ghouls wanted me around. Cleo just stood there staring at me with the strangest look in her eyes.

For a moment I could not decide if she was on the verge of being angry or sad. Then she simply spun on a heel, stepped to my door and yelled down the hall, “Ghoulia’s room - NOW!” The ghouls got to my room in a blink albeit with mouths full of freshly baked cookies. Cleo pointed at Frankie whose mouth seemed to be less full of cookie than the others, “Quickly, when you think of Ghoulia what’s the first thing that comes to mind?” Frankie sparked and said, “She’s kind and helpful!” Then Lagoona said I was “trustworthy and sincere”, Draculaura said I was “funny and sweet” and Clawdeen said I was “brave and determined.” Finally Cleo looked at me and said, “Notice anything in those descriptions that was missing?” I hung my head, a little embarrassed and a lot encouraged. “Now we are going back to the kitchen to eat more cookies, you could join us if you’re feeling up to it... oh and you better be in class tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do.” It turns out that my mother’s cookies are a miracle cure. Who knew? 

Now that Ghoulia is out of her funk, we’ve been able to make some progress. I found several trunks at home filled with jars of oils, extracts and spices. Nearly all of them are still labeled. Probably should be careful with the ones that are not... I seem to remember some were rather volatile when mixed with certain other ingredients. Unfortunately, I could not find any of my old recipes, so this will truly require real experimentation. 

Experiment Notes

Batch #1

Top notes of leather - old gym shoe leather - with a sweaty angst-like finish. It is a smell reminiscent of the odor that emanates from the boys’ locker room after summer football practices. FAIL

Batch #2

Complex floral notes of troll cabbage and broccoli with none too subtle undertones on burnt microwave popcorn. It was quite... breathtaking and also Mr. Hackington’s favorite. FAIL

Batch #3

It smelled like cheese at first then spoiled milk. Disgusting. FAIL

Batch #4 

A frightfully woodsy scent, mysterious yet approachable and our favorite by far. It also hardened in the beaker like cement. We may have discovered a way to create scented construction material but as a perfume - FAIL

Batch #5

Eau de Pit of Goblin Arm. FAIL

Batch #6

Two words - wet werewolf. FAIL

Batch #8

We used an unmarked bottle from Cleo’s collection. It was an odorless black elixir but when we mixed it with vanilla, juniper berry and patchouli oil it opened a portal to another dimension that sucked in half of our experiments before we could put a stopper in the beaker. Cleo blamed the patchouli. FAIL

BATCH #13

Lovely top, middle and base notes - check.

Accentuates rather than overopowers - check, check

Would we wear it ourselves? - check, check, check

Perfection!

Final Grade - A+

Best. Lab project. Ever.

#monster high #monster high diary #Ghoulia Yelps #Cleo de Nile #mad science #monster high journal

[kinkymagnus]

Henlo!! I love your blog so much 😍 it gives me life and makes me happy when I have a bad day. I was wondering if you had any headcanons about Malec’s first time or something where Magnus is a nervous wreck cause he has to tell Alec that he’s trans? Thank you and sorry for the bother 😭♥️

y’all it is a CRIME how long this has been in my inbox, im really sorry and ur not bothering me at ALL i just love this ask and wanted to do it JUSTICE 👏

also im!!! so flattered!!! aaaaaAAAA im glad my blog can cheer u up :) 

okokok so trans magnus + malec’s first time + magnus being nervous about coming out lghkjgfh

ok i have no fucking idea why but i’m making this twi malec. i’m just. in the mood for twi malec i guess. fuck it amiright

magnus is just. he has a lot of secrets. there’s a reason he hasn’t gotten close to anyone in a long time, there’s a reason he only talks to two or three people who actually know him, there’s a reason he hasn’t been how he used to be--out and about, flashy and showing off and wearing armor made of glittering beauty and colorful silks and bold makeup, instead of comfortable cardigans and twitching hands and quiet. 

speaking of which: def headcanon twi magnus wasn’t always the way he is in that episode. he was a lot like canon magnus once upon a time, charismatic (well, he’s still charismatic, but like, in that bold flashy way, you know?) and open (closed off, but with the illusion of having all his cards on the table) and bold

anyway. there’s a reason. lots of reasons. mostly all the secrets he hides.

the fact that he has magic, that he’s immortal, a dusty relic of a time long gone, of an age past, clinging on past his due date. he feels like he doesn’t belong in the modern world, like he should have died with the shadow world, like he should have been sealed out with all the other demons.

the fact that he is a prince king of hell, son and slayer of the greater demon asmodeous himself. even tho he’s sealed it all away, he has a huge amount of power, both from just. originally being the son of such a powerful demon, a fallen angel, and also from managing to kill one.

i don’t think it fits with canon twi lore but i don’t care, i’m saying twi magnus was involved in the sealing of the realm, and he managed to kill asmodeous and basically absorb his power, so a) he actually did this huge incredible feat that changed the whole world, whether on purpose or not i’m not sure yet (it has something to do with asmodeous, but i’m not seeing the whole picture yet) and b) he’s actually. more powerful than canon magnus. it’s partially why he sealed away his magic for so long, he was afraid of what that power could do. 

honestly i dont have this super well thought out but i like the potential

but anyway! barely related to this! let’s get back on topic!

and. the fact that he’s trans. a decidedly more mundane secret, but still one he keeps close to his chest. he’s lived through a lot of eras with bad very transphobic times? like he’s lived through places/times with very accepting atmopshere, but he’s also lived in like, victorian england, you know? and canon magnus had a chance to be more out of his shell and open in the modern world but this magnus has completely closed himself off. he mostly talks to people other than his close friends to give them a tarot reading. he’s not like, totally cut off, i can’t imagine him like. not helping people. you know. idek. but the point is he’s more isolated. canon magnus was closed off in a lot of ways, but still surrounded by people. he had a job to do, people to protect, and parties to attend. not to mention going to pandemonium and stuff. twi magnus isn’t really doing that. man i really went on a tangent here but the point is i feel like that would contribute to how he feels about being trans. feeling isolated, having less friends to be open with and to help him you know? in my experience it’s a lot harder to feel like. valid? without that sense of community. even with a few close friends, it’s hard. if you’re “passing”, which magnus is, it feels like a secret. 

the point is! i am getting so off track! magnus has got layers and layers and layers protecting him, both literal and metaphorical (he doesn’t wear the more flashy and revealing clothing canon magnus occasionally favors, preferring thick and comfortable sweaters and cardigans and stuff like that. bonus headcanon: whatever happened that ended in asmodeous dead and the walls of the world sealed, it left magnus with more scars. not to mention top surgery scars he may have, or even just hiding a binder, or using thick layers to disguise small tiddies since binders are great but you can’t bind all the time or every day for centuries and still be like, healthy. anYWAY) 

and when he starts dating alec despite that little cautious voice in his head insisting he needs to not get attached, alec begins to just. effortlessly peel those layers away

he’s so blunt and honest, unlike people who have lied to and manipulated magnus in the past (CAMILLE, anyone? i feel like she’d still be a thing in the twiverse. also asmodeous, albeit in a different way) and he’s gentle and loud and bold and he’s funny and sweet and he just. fucking cares about magnus.

when he finds about magnus’s magic he’s like “oh my god that’s so cool” he just fucking accepts him so easily!!! 

and even when magnus ends up tearfully confessing he may or may not be a literal king of hell (or, one of the hell dimensions) alec’s like “damn, i’m dating royalty?” and maybe makes a joke about not everyone getting to make a king scream with pleasure and magnus is just so relieved???

but that’s later

anyway

they haven’t had sex yet and magnus is just like. he feels like inevitably this relationship is gonna fall apart. he has too many secrets, too many hidden parts of himself that if he ever shed light on, alec wouldn’t see him the same way

and as much as he wants alec to fuck him, as much as he wants to be in bed with alec and cuddle with him and have sex with him and show him everything, he feels like he can’t, it would be the beginning of the end

he keeps pulling back just as alec begins to initiate, and alec never pushes but wonders if he’s doing something wrong, or if maybe magnus is asexual, or just doesn’t want to have sex for other reasons, and eventually he broaches the topic with magnus and magnus is so surprised alec noticed something is wrong (he expected alec might confront him over not “putting out” but alec doesn’t seem to care about the sex--he makes sure to emphasize while he is attracted to magnus and would lvoe to have sex with him if that’s what magnus wants, it’s by no means a requirement--but more about. magnus. and communicating with him.) that he just blurts out i’m trans. 

and alec kinda blinks at him. his beautiful, wonderful, nervous and scared boyfriend. and he ends up blurting out oh thank god. because he would be more than okay with magnus not wanting to have sex--he’s super gorgeous and absolutely smoking hot, but alec doesn’t ever like, want to have sex with him unless magnus wants to. obviously. but he was honestly worried it wasn’t magnus but him, that he’d done something wrong or wasn’t attractive or something, and honestly worrying about something being wrong with him was not a feeling he was used to. then he realizes how bad that just sounded, and he’s like, aaaaaaaAAAA WAIT and ends up panickedly rambling like i mean sorry i just was kind of worried i was doing something wrong but like, i love you so much and you being trans changes nothing about that, and if you never want to have sex that’s totally okay and i love you, but if you’re worried about me still being attracted to you that’s not a problem, but-- and magnus is like y-you’re not?? but you’re gay! and i’m-- and you know that feeling of like. internalized [insert form of bigotry towards yourself, in this case transphobia]. where you think something bad about yourself. and if you think about it you’re like “no that’s transphobic i would never think that about anyone else” and your brain is just like “yeah it’s true about you tho” that’s this. magnus is like. i’m not a real man, how could you be attracted to me? and alec (not to be all Cis Savior, but look, magnus deserves a loving supportive boyfriend who comforts him and shit, okay! i am PROJECTING) is like yeah i’m gay and you’re a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning man? 

and they end up talking it out and get it sorted that yes, magnus does want to have sex, but it would be okay if one of them didn’t want to, magnus being trans does not make alec unattracted to him, it’s okay, they’re okay, because malec are Kings of Communication,

ANYWAY

ACTUAL FIRST TIME

probably not the same day, that day they cuddle and talk 

but like later

>:)

alec is just so gentle and reverent y’all. like. them big hands on magnus’s body, all warm and gentle and magnus is like oh fuck this is nice

they do have to kind of communicate boundaries--alec’s asks if there’s anywhere magnus doesn’t want to be touched because dysphoria (or any other reason) and vice versa, magnus trying to be like “you know if you only want to fuck my ass or have me wear a strap-on or anything like that it’s fine, i understand you’re not necessarily attracted to those parts of me” and alec’s like “we’ve established that you would enjoy me eating you out and i WANT TO EAT YOU OUT” 

their first time probably is pretty simple, “vanilla”, idk why but im thinking they just exchange oral sex tbh like magnus blows him and then alec eats him out 

also magnus cums pretty fast bc he hasn’t been touched like this in a long time and he’s very embarrassed about it but alec is like “damn that’s hot can i try to make you cum a few more times” 

ok but imagine their first time it’s just alec holding him down and eating him out until he sobs and squirts? yes

anyway tho they have like, lots of “other” first times too like. first time alec fucks his pussy. first time alec fucks his ass. etc. 

first time alec slides that Thick Dick balls deep into magnus’s cunt he’s for sure immediately on the edge of orgasming he’s so full and it feels so good--

and alec’s like holy SHIT bc he’s warm and wet and tight and he clenches every time alec praises him or dirty talks him and it feels amazing

first time alec fucks his ass is also very fun for both of them ;) 

it’s just a good time all around folks communication and magnus getting pounded the way he deserves :’) 

not to mention when they first start getting into kinks 

alec, carefully broaching the topic of bondage: how would you feel... about handcuffs?

magnus, barely looking up: mm, padded or not? and what kind of padding? the normal kind hurt my wrists after too long and not really in a nice way, so i like padded. furry can get a little itchy sometimes but they look real nice. also, are we talking above my head to the bedpost, and if so, am i on my stomach or back? because stomach is a little uncomfortable. or like, behind my back? especially bent over, mm. good view for you ;) 

then he like looks up and realized he’s said all of this very casually and alec’s looking at him with 1. shock and 2. lust 

like. “i wasn’t expecting this, but i really should have, and now i want to bend you over and tie you up and fuck you hard” 

and he blushes just a lil bit like o shit i just said all that and alec’s like “padded it is. behind your back or above your head... hm... both have potential, but maybe the latter? i love you on your back under me, i can see so much of your beautiful body and all of your gorgeous face :)” 

and like TOYS 

aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA ANYWAY

#trans magnus smut #twi malec #twi

[kurtty-drabbles]

Coraline au (nice to meet you, my name is...)

N/A: Finally, is time to LK gets that well-deserved punch.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @discordsworld @bamfoftheundead

Arriving in Brimar is an experience no X-men could ever forget. The city smells like sludge, but, it seems only the X-men think the smell is a problem or even notice the smell.

"Alison" Scott starts speaking once looking at the city one last time, even with his ruby visor,  a red Brimar is even worse. "Is your visions lead us to this city?"

"Yes, in my visions...the mutant Kitty Pryde in need of help" Alison clarifies calmly as she too is looking at the city. The team is Scott, Logan, Jean, Alison and Longshot as the others remain in the school to protect the students.

"Kitty Pryde?" Jean asked a bit sceptical. How she need help? Didn´t she defeat the shadow king? An enemy that not even Professor X managed to defeat. "how she´ll need help?"

"Well..." Alison is about to explain, but, Longshot interrupts the moment to point out the leader of this city is greeting them. The man looks like a corpse, except, the flesh is still pink and human-like appearance, but, is not a flattering look to anyone.

"You´re the X-men. My master warned you would be here" the man´s eyes linger to Dazzler and again, is not a flattering look, "he also talks about you, Dazzler, my master is in a good mood. If you all leave now no one will face the consequences, so, X-men, leave now"

The X-men does not need any confirmation to know that this city is strange and the X-men can´t leave or rather they don´t want to.

"Well, tell your master to shut up, he´ll have to deal with us," Longshot said already expecting the leader of the city would go berserk, however, that didn´t happen at all.

"Very well. You all are warned" and the man just leaves the X-men with their wits and luck. Logan is giving a stink eye to Dazzler as while he wouldn´t ever confess this, Logan really would prefer to leave.

"You and your damn bird may have brought us to a trap, Dazzler, you know that, right" Logan states.

"The bird is Pheonix and she´s listening to your blasphemy with attention" Logan only rolls his eyes and speak with Jean Grey, who, for some reason, is not happy with Logan right now.

"Ok, let´s all stay together and search for Kitty. Jean?" Scott asked and the red hair nods and confirms what everyone should know by now. "I can feel her presence....deep down in this city, but, I can´t tell more of that...and...and" Jean grouches to the ground "there´s something there as well. The fire is too great. It will burn us!" Jean almost went hysterical if Dazzler and Scott didn´t manage to calm her down.

"The fire Scott, the fire. Is reaching his raw form" Jean states quivering a lot.

__________________________________________________________________________

Cletus loves to hunt, in fact, is one of few things he and his late father used to do to bond, so, this is an activity Cletus still enjoying doing. So, when the X-men arrives in the landscape as Cletus knew they would his plan is in motion. Kill the X-men. 5 mutants must allow him a great reward from Cthulhu. Carnage will live to his namesake.

Longshot look up and saw a weird creature staring at him, it´s too fast to register. The creature jump in front of the X-men in full Symbiote form scream something "Time to die"

Longshot is using his luck power and it seems to work as the supposed claw that should render his flesh from his body is gone exposing just a human arm.

"My luck power saved us" Longshot states happily even if he´s still focused on the situation.

"Not quite, little reality warped" a voice echoes in their minds and it seems only Cletus understand what it means and who is speaking. "interesting power, but, I´d not have time to explore this...I have to deal with this traitor"

"Traitor?" Carnage speaks suddenly feeling his body heavier and heavier to the point he can´t stay on the ground and when he lays down Carnage´s body makes a hole in the ground and the hole is cover with black goo. "I served Chtulu all my life. Who are you?"

"Who Am I? Oh, now I´m more offended, I´m Knull and I´m your real God and to make matters simple for your tine brain...I´m really mad at you, Carnage"

And the X-men won´t forget this scene so easily.

__________________________________________________________________________

The city of Brimar has a big mountain, if the city had the mind for tourism, that would be the main attraction, however, Kitty is not here to talk about tourism.

"The mission is over?" Jupiter asked confused, a part of him is glad is over, but another is confused as to why it was so...easy for Kitty to do that. His feline eyes glance at Cosmo. Did the magical dog help Kitty behind the scenes?

"Yes, is over" Kitty states looking at the gem of infinity firmly held in her hand as the blue fire is around her hand and in the gem. Kitty´s azzure eyes(Jupiter blinks at that, since when she has azzure eyes) look at the mountain for a moment before deliver. "get rekt squidboy" and crushed the gem.

No, crush would mean there are pieces of the gem, Kitty somehow manages to completely erase the gem without breaking a sweat and with this action the mountain is gone.

"No infinity gem, no squidboy ...in this plane" Cosmo explained more to Jupiter than to Kitty.

"Yeah...is over. Now, Dagon has no power and can´t bully me or my family anymore" Kitty states not minding that her hand is still wrapped around the blue fire.

The sound of claps snaps Kitty back to reality. A man with curly raven hair, and athletic figure and a malicious smile come into her view. Kitty is not impressed by IT.

"You did a fantastic job. Surpass all my expectation, Miss Pryde, the cats are right about you" IT speaks in a mix of malicious and satisfied. Kitty is still not amused. "You´re my mate"

The cat is calling IT forever alone and chiding him. Cosmo is not being a happy dog and is growling at IT, however, IT is not caring. As IT´s eyes are on Kitty whose hand is now back to normal.

"Yeah, well, then I want something from you," Kitty said knowing the faces Jupiter and Cosmo must be making now. Certainly is opposed of IT.

"As you defeat chlutlu, in a non-conventional way, but is still valid, I shall grant your wish for free" IT smiles far too animalistic to be human.

"Ok, my wish is you let me punch you until you feel pain and you can´t take revenge after that, are you ok with that?" Kitty asked and Jupiter along with Cosmo are calmer now. This is a harmless wish, although, Jupiter notices Cosmo is chuckling (as much a magical dog can)

"Of course, Katzchen, feel free to hit me until your little heart is content" and IT even let his facer closer of her. And Kitty didn´t waste time to hit him. The first time, nothing happened as IT still amused. "Don´t you want to trade your wish? I can give you something else, anything really"

Kitty didn´t reply as she hit him for the second time. This time his smile dies a little as this punch hurt a little. IT now looks serious for a moment, until, Kitty gives the final punch and now...the hurt is prominent.

In fact, her punch manages to break his mask and hit his real face, no, IT can feel the punch hit him in all time and places. This makes IT fall to the ground as his mask is falling to pieces and the pain is still travelling through his body, through time and place.

A tentacle wrapped around her fist as Kitty would punch him again. "You got your wish, I´m in pain" IT is speaking with a certain hardness in his tone.

"My family and I are out of gods games, got it?" IT only recognises by nodding silently. "great, and stop talking about mate, I´m not an animal, no offence Jupiter and Cosmo" the cat and dog are chills with this. "and if you really want to have a girlfriend how about you try to be nice?!" and leaves.

The X-men arrive shortly and witness the most bizarre situation ever. Jean asked. "so...the mission is over?" and Dazzler nods silently wondering if she did her part correctly. She feels as the X-men aren´t even needed here, but, if Pheonix wants something...no one denies her anything.

#coraline au #lk got punched #suidboy get rekt #kitty pryde #lovecraft kurt #jupiter the cat #Cosmo the dog

[thepinkwriterr]

Creature Comfort // Peter Parker Part Three

“Hot Burrito #1 by The Flying Burrito Brothers.” I looked up from my phone to Dad, smirking. I finally got him! “The Gilded Palace Of Sin, released February, 1969. Track eight.” He smiled, looking up from the frying pan. We were making scrambled eggs before school. “Dammit!” I exclaimed. He simply laughed. 

“Yes! Ohhh, I so got you!” I smiled vindictively. “Smile A Little Smile For Me, The Flying Machine.” He looked puzzled for a moment. “Their first album. Self-titled. Released April 11th 1969 in the UK. Released July, 1969 in the US. Track 1.” His pompous smile enraged me. “You. Suck.” I coldly stated. “No, you suck.” He joked smugly. I  narrowed my eyes at him menacingly, then erupted we in laughter.  ��You know you can’t beat me. After fifteen years, I figured you would know this.” His smirk made me roll my eyes.

“I guess I didn’t know.” I joked. “I don’t really know much about you, now that I think about it.” I prodded. “Well,” He proped his elbows on the white kitchen table,”What do you want to know?” He rested his chin in his palms.  I mean, obviously I have a mom. I’ve never asked about her, to my recollection. But should I ask? Well, I have to figure it out at some point. “Who’s my mother?” I begged.  “Uh-H-her name was Christine. Christine Palmer.” He avoided eye contact with me. “What was she like?” I asked, equally avoiding looking at him.

“She was- she was great. Very sweet. Really funny. Smartest woman I’ve ever met. Just like you.” He smiled. “How’d you meet?” I further questioned. “She was a nurse at the hospital I worked at.”  He grinned. “Well what happened between you guys?” His blue irises clouded over with nostalgia,”We didn’t have the best relationship. I was an arrogant asshole.” He sighed. “Is that all?” He asked, trying his hardest to sound positive.   

“How’d you get your magic? Why do you really have those scars on your hands?” I questioned. He pursed his lips together and sighed. “Why don’t we talk about this when you get home.” He stood and shut his laptop. Well, I guess I just had to wait. For now, it’s off to school. Can’t wait... 

I wish I didn’t have to be here. I mean, I’m basically a fucking avenger now! I’m glad to be here, but all do is listen to the professor and take notes and tests. I flipped open my laptop lid and sat back in my chair. When Mr. Garig started yammering on about quantum chemistry, I slammed my finger down on the record button. I put in my headphones and turned on my favorite playlist. I typed in my notes, but didn’t bother listening to a word he said. If I had questions, I would ask Dad. That’s a perk of having such an intelligent father. 

Claire’s Toss In 

“How was class?” Dad asked as I got in the car. I shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. Nothing special.” I mumbled absentmindedly. “Did you actually pay attention today, or listen to black box recorder and brood about how you don’t have friends while recording the prof?” He snatched my edges. Damn. I sighed. “Y’know, I’m ‘bout sick of you knowing everything.” I joked. “You know I don’t have a problem when you ask questions, but I can’t be your professor.” 

“You’re smarter than him...” I flattered to win him over. It was true, but I know how to get on his good side. “That’s beside the point.” He smirked secretly. “You’re going to be the worlds youngest scientist, right?” He arched a brow. I giggled at his seriousness. “Sure.” I chuckled once again. “We’re not paying your tuition for nothing.” He held his index finger out and wagged it. “I know, I know.” 

“Your mother and I had a very rocky relationship. When we met, I was a neurosurgeon, and she was a nurse. We started dating six months after we met, and it was great for about two months. It was all my fault. I was so arrogant.” Dad shook his head as he spoke. It was like he was telling me a moronic bed time story. “I really did love her though. She was amazing.” He sighed. 

“I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’ll tell you the whole story.” He spoke once again. “One night, I was driving to ceremony to commemorate a job I had done. I was talking to my assistant, and he was telling me about possible jobs. I looked down at my phone to look at some brain scans, and I was driving too fast. I crashed into a car head on, and my car flipped down the mountain and into a harbor. That’s how I got these scars on my hands.” He spoke with grim detail and hesitation. 

“I spent the next year trying to fix it anyway I could. It never worked. The surgeries and physical therapy did nothing. And it destroyed me. You mother tried to keep me sane, but I was too far gone. I thought that... without my work, my life was over. Your mother tried to tell me that wasn’t the case. But, I wouldn’t hear it. Soon, she became fed up with me. We had a fight where I said some things I shouldn’t have, and we broke up.” The look of worry on his face was starting to scare me. I’d never seen him so troubled before. Even when we were saving the goddamn world. 

#dr strange #benedict cumberbatch #mcuedit #mcu #stephen strange #fanfic #mcu fandom #dr strange cannon #peter parker #tom holland #peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x oc #writing #marvel

[scoutshonor56]

HOCUS POCUS!

Pick a card, any card…

 Snape, visibly losing patience: “All right…”

Little Donny Dumblefuck: “Five of clubs!”

Snape: “Holy Hufflepuff, are you kidding me!? Are you fucking kidding me!?  Even Weasley can manage this one for Slytherins sake!”

Little Donny: “OK, OK, let me show you the three cups and a chestnut…”

Snape: “You tried that one yesterday and I gave you three chances!  Exactly what can you do?”

Little Donny: “Well, I can make really stupid people believe anything I say…”

Snape: “Oh really – and what is the incantation may I ask?”

Little Donny: “Fake News!”

 Yes, Little Donny wasn’t much of a wizard, and failing that, a pretty inept and lazy magician, but he was blessed with a really stupid and gullible audience.

 I knew we were in trouble early on in this nightmare administration when I first heard blond bimbo/magician’s assistant, Kellyanne Conway, use the phrase “alternative reality” - as in dual reality.  Now there’s a concept you don’t often hear mentioned outside of science fiction or quantum physics.

 But that’s all a little complex for the simpleminded, so like with so much about this merry band of fumblefucks, they had to dumb it down – hmmm, we need a catch phrase, something simple that even he can remember…GOT IT!  FAKE NEWS!

 Now most aspiring despots worth their salt, past and present, follow the first rule of creating an autocracy: control the media; the message to the rabble.  And when dealing with people a little smarter than the Trumpkins, you go with the direct approach: achieve military authority and neuter the free press by force, leaving only one unified, state run media outlet to carefully craft and control the propaganda machine (see N. Korea).

 Aww jeez, that sounds like a lot of work though - let’s just try this: whenever the king hears something he doesn’t like, something critical, or other than outright praise for his greatness, he simply says “FAKE NEWS!”

 “Hmm, I dunno… you think they’ll buy it?  Is anyone really that stupid?”

 “Come on!  Have you seen this crowd?  Hell yes they’ll buy it!”

 You can pick any of countless times over the last three and a half years that this has been proven true, so today let’s stick with the current topic on everyone’s mind – the Covid-19 virus.

 Last week I read a sadly horrifying and grim editorial by Timothy Egan in the NY Times (you know, that “failing” news outlet), which pretty much could be viewed as a report card on the U.S. response to the virus so far, and how our once great nation is now viewed by the rest of the modern world - I highly encourage you to read it.  Among the statistics sited:

 Within 1.3 million reported cases, the United States, just 5% of the world’s population, has 33% of the sick.  As we approach 100,000 deaths, we’re also at the front of the pack in that catagory.

 Globally, the average death is 34 people per million. In the United States, it’s more than six times higher – 232 per million.

 By the end of April, new cases in S. Korea were down to less than 10 a day.  In the United States at that time, the pandemic raged at a daily rate of more than 25,000 newly sick.

 And yet, here in the United States we spend more on health care, per capita, than any other modern, developed nation.

 Brief interlude here: even as I typed this recap, I thought, looking around today and reading the news - can we really still call ourselves the “United” States?

 But that’s another story – meanwhile, this cheap shyster with clown hair and more than a few parts loose in his dusty cranium continues to insist his government has done a “spectacular job” with the Covid-19 pandemic.  “And I’ll tell you, the whole world is excited watching us because we’re leading the world.”

 What – in doing a shitty job?

 So again I have to ask myself, as I have so many times during this sham of an administration: “How does he perform and maintain this level of mind control without some mass hypnosis, or serious pharmaceuticals in the drinking water?”  How could anyone continue to put their faith in this petulant, narcissistic moron who at any given moment can state that “I never did that”, or “I never said that”, when every one of these incidences of ignorance and buffoonery are filmed and recorded, broadcast for all to see daily?  You’re the fucking president, not the schoolyard gossip. Everything you say and do concerning this country is recorded!   No, this isn’t an episode of one of your reality shows, where we can creatively – and I mean creatively - make sense of it later in the editing suite.  

 Throughout most of January, Captain Assclown wasn’t even mentioning the virus, until finally, on the 22nd, when he proclaimed “We have it totally under control.  It’s one person coming in from China.  It’s going to be just fine.” By mid-February it became something that “will go away by April”, magically dissipating like old snow with the spring warmth.  On the 24th it was “Very much under control in the USA…”  He also tweeted, “Stock Market starting to look very good to me!”  While addressing a group of African American leaders at the White House on the 27th, he once again turned into a mystical Nostradamus, saying, “It’s going to disappear.  One day – it’s like a miracle - it will disappear.”  

 In Charleston, N.C. on the 28th, at his last Trumpapalooza RA-RA Rally (before the shit really hit the fan and lockdowns started) his rabid, red meat crowd was told the whole thing was simply the latest hoax, perpetrated by the Dems to finally bring him down.

 “Watch the tiny hands closely – nothing up my sleeve, aaaaand Abra Cadabra, GONE!”  

 Watch out though, remember who’s driving the car! Hang on!  In mid-March famous demolition derby driver Donny Crash, who insists on not wearing a helmet, comes out with this head-spinning, WTF gearshift moment: “I felt it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic.”

 Sigh - you can’t make this shit up.

 How about a current assessment, Crash?  Glad to! Just last week (May 8) Donny tells the press, “I feel about vaccines like I feel about tests.  This is going to go away without a vaccine.  It’s going to go away and we’re not going to see it again.” Wow…

 Is there anything this sack of soggy, mashed French fries with clown makeup could say that would make his followers pause and think, “Hmmm - I don’t know about that one…”?  If he said the Earth was flat, would they believe it?  

 Oh, never mind – we all know the answer to that.

 This goes way beyond loyalty to a person or a party; it’s much closer to zealous and blind religious fealty.  This high priest of pandemonium and bullshit once again has absolutely no plan or clue; he makes decisions about this country like he’s approaching an All-U-Can-Eat fast food buffet: “Let’s see, gimme a Whopper first, and one of those fried pies!  No, nope, I’ll take the bucket of chicken with the mashed potatoes!  Nooo, wait a minute!  Give me the jumbo McDonald’s fries, yeah, that’s it!  DOH, I changed my mind, I want the McNuggets first! Yeah, gimme the McNuggets!  OH, OH, what are those, over there behind the chicken!?”

His thoughts randomly bounce and pop around erratically in his head like farts in a bathtub.  His brain is a broken pinball machine with a dozen paddles and no hole.

 And I can think of no better example of his fans than a quote I recently read from washed-up actor who hasn’t been in a decent movie since 1972’s “Deliverance”, Jon Voight – who surprise, surprise was last November awarded the National Medal of Arts and National Humanities by the White House.  That’s right my feeble-minded minions – say something flattering about me and you might just get a shiny prize!  Or maybe even a job on my team!  For some reason there always seems to be an opening…

 So let’s crack that Trump loving skull, raise the hood, and take a peek at the gears, hoses, wiring, and pistons that drive your average everyday Trump acolyte:

 “We see President Trump as a magnificent soul, raising up this nation… He will go down as the historic president of this millennium. He will be etched in stone with a gold medal, a hero and a president of the United States who won the battle. The war of 2020.  He is Donald Trump.  God bless.”

 I rest my case.