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five-rivers · 3 years

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Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt: Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately. There was something in the atmosphere, almost. It felt… lighter, maybe?

He didn’t like it.

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion. The tendency had saved his life multiple times. Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost. Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with. Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him. Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often. Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha. He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one. Skipped school and everything. The whole high school experience. Ha.

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.

He sighed, heavily. Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding). Stock up on supplies. Get ready to weather a storm. Literal or metaphorical.

But hiding out in the cave was so boring. There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah. Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah. Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts. It was pretty empty around here.

Just like Flynn’s heart.

Ha.

Yeah. That was a good one.

Eh. Life wasn’t so bad. He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time. Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof. Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity. And not having a concussion. Or losing any more teeth.

But, back to his original topic.

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe. Was it directly Flynn’s problem? No. The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.

Flynn recognized that. Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom. But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger. Who knew what could come out of a portal? At least according to the ghosts he talked to. Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.

This was going to suck so much.

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary. Which he had read. Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck. He could take one ghost. Three? Yeah. Not a chance.

Maybe they’d leave? They couldn’t know for sure he was here. With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again. He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either. No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait. They weren’t. Flynn would know. He’d made many unbelievable jokes. They’d never attracted anything but groans.

Ha.

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost. “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.

“We don’t have any choice about her, though. Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out. Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn. Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him. The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago. At least a decade.

But he did scream. Loudly. Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all. He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages. “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.” He examined his fingernails. “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate. Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.” He eyed the eyeballs.

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork. “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn. He adjusted his grip on his staff. “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face. “No. Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby. Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip. Hard. Okay. He wasn’t dreaming. And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway? Flynn was nothing. He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands. “Then let us away to the castle.”

Well. That was certainly a castle. Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house. Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.

Or even hole, when compared to all this. Dear god, this place was fancy.

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin. You are not underdressed.

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings. “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost. “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one. I will collect you for dinner in three hours. Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.

… There would be curtains, right? This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.

He opened the door.

Lots of curtains. Lovely.

No, really. It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains. He might be crying.

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft. He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy. Filthy. Covered in years’ worth of grime. He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath. He was craving a human-safe bath. With clean water and soap.

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes? Toothpaste? Unrestrained luxury.

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter. The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.

There was a sink.

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water. Because he made it so, so dirty. He sank into the water, up to his chin.

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause. Because it was always a lost cause. Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available. He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one. Were there ghost dentists? There had to be ghost dentists. They had a lot of teeth. A lot of teeth. Sharp, scary, teeth.

Ugh. His baby cousin was a ghost. He’d probably have teeth like a shark. When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all. Because. Baby. Little, tiny, baby.

Who Flynn barely knew.

Why did he even want Flynn? Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?

Ghosts were weird. Anything could be possible.

He flopped face-first onto the bed. His bed? His temporary and maybe permanent bed. If he was allowed to stay here.

Oh, gosh. Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals. Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.

(Dad? Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed. But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now. He was living in the scariest place out of the world.

Ha.

Yeah.

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe. Oh, boy. Many clothes. He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store. Incredible.

They were so fancy, too. He didn’t know how to choose.

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed. Some of them looked cool. And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet. Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear. Wow. It had been a while.

Okay. The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice. Like, no nap nice.

He wanted to take a nap.

But no nap was occurring.

The bed was too soft. Ugh. This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.

He groaned. He hadn’t thought that was real. He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama. Or something.

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.

Maybe he could sleep here.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover. What cover? Oh. Bed. That was the bed. He was in the room. In the castle. The ghost king’s castle.

His baby cousin’s castle.

He was going to cry. This was so weird.

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand. Which. Might not have been the best of ideas. But, hey, he was dressed now.

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle. Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there. One of his eyebrows went up. “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down. Orange and green went fine together. What was he talking about?

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.

“Come, now. Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back. At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.

He decided not to do that. Running away wasn’t his style.

(Who was he kidding? That was definitely his style. He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing. Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled. “Only the future.” He swung the large, gilded door open.

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates. There were a small group of children beyond it. One of them waved at him. Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

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spookybreadstick · 3 years

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Body Types of the Pastas

I will not be including Sally on this list, she is a child!! She has the body of a child, and that’s all you need to know. I will also not be including Slender on this list because we all know what kind of body he has (he’s a skinny legend!!) it’s literally a part of his name. Also, I might add, these are my versions of the characters and their body types do not reflect on the body types of any actors who may have portrayed them. These are just how I imagine them.

TW TW TW: Body Image Issues

Please do not read if you are struggling and believe you will be triggered by mentions of weight and different body types. This is largely positive (in my opinion), but I don’t want to trigger anybody, since there is mentions of negative relationships with food and poor body image. This is not meant to be “body-checking” or harmful for readers. It’s just a little post (I think it may even help some to be kinder with their own bodies and self-image), but just read at your own discretion, I suppose.

IMPORTANT NOTE: We do not body shame on this blog!! This is written entirely with love and appreciation for all bodies!

Also, mild NSFW warning I guess? (Nothing major, just a little, if you can call it that). For future reference, this: 💛 is the emoji that marks anything a lil spicy, but not what I would call true NSFW.

💛🤎💛🤎💛🤎

Skinny Legends (I couldn’t think of an appropriate adjective to go with it lmao)

Bloody Painter

Perfectly Petite

BEN

Lusciously Lean

Toby

Liu

Majestically Mid-Sized

Nina

Puppeteer

Jane

Marvelously Muscular

Clockwork

Jeff

Beautifully Buff

Hoodie

Pleasantly Plus-Sized

Masky

🍬 LJ is just built like that. He’s long, lanky, and skinny. No matter how many sweets he eats, his stomach remains flat. Don’t make fun of him for it (since he was sort of modeled after a doll in Isaac’s mind, LJ sometimes thinks that he’s missing some stuffing and there is something wrong with him because of that).

🎨 Helen is naturally thin, but there’s also other factors to blame. When he was growing up, his parents pushed on him the idea that being ‘skinny’ was everything for a girl (remember, they raised him as a girl until he was a young teen). They also would withhold food as a punishment for any ‘misbehaving’ that they saw. Nowadays, Helen doesn’t have much of an appetite, probably as a result of not eating enough in childhood. Helen will also forget to eat since he is so wrapped up in his art. He doesn’t mind being called skinny, that’s his body type after all, but please don’t point out his eating habits. He’ll get annoyed very easily. A much better way to go about it would be, if you see he’s too busy to eat, fix him a sandwich or something and bring it to him. You have to phrase it carefully, like, “I was hungry and made some sandwiches, so here’s one for you, too. Fuel for the artist, right?” And he’ll be more likely to accept and eat it.

🎮 BEN is, as much as he denies it, petite. He’s short and he has a small frame. There’s a little bit of squish to his tummy (it’s absolutely adorable 🥰) but he hides it (it wasn’t there originally, and it’s an accumulation of him eating all sorts of junk food in his afterlife. It doesn’t really affect him usually, but after he’s been doing it for years...) Please don’t point it out, he tries to forget that it exists and it bothers him.

🪓 Toby is lean cuisine. He’s kind of short for a guy, and that adds to his leanness. He has trouble remembering to eat and has trouble taking proper care of his body, so he is malnourished. He gets insecure about his body, so don’t say anything about it. Toby would love it if somebody cared enough to make sure that he’s eating regularly and getting proper nutrition. He is just a boy in need of some nourishing food and good lovin’! 🥰

🧣 Liu is also lean. Whenever he’s nervous or stressed, he forgets to eat. Whenever he wants to “punish” himself for whatever reason, he withholds food. He’s been doing better with this, but it was a habit he’s had since he was young, so that contributed to his smaller build. He doesn’t mind at all if you say he’s lean (he’d actually take it as quite the compliment). What he needs though, is somebody who cares enough to help him break the negative habits.

💄 Nina’s body type is hard to place, since she’s on the slim side but also not quite lean? She’s honestly really in between the lean and mid-size categories. Nina’s had some body image issues in the past, but she tries hard to keep it wholesome and positive with her self image though. She’s really got a great figure though! She’s got a small waist, probably about B-cup breasts, nice hips, and a nearly flat stomach (but not quite! She has that lil pooch thing that’s supposed to be where your uterus is?) Nina’s so pretty, honestly 😍

🧵 Puppeteer’s body type is the epitome of “average.” It’s smack dab in the middle of body types. There’s nothing particular special about it, and he’s on the slimmer side but not skinny skinny. He’s got depth and he’s also the taller side.

🖤 Jane’s got an amazing figure! She goes through periods of time where she’s a bit insecure but she’s got no reason to be! She looks great! She’s curvy (doesn’t have a flat tummy!) and it looks amazing on her. She’s got a killer ass (we love a thicc queen) and her breasts are def C cup (maybe even D cup). Jane’s got those curves in all the right places, and she looks like a goth Aphrodite when she’s in her element 🤩

⏰ Clockwork is a baddie! She has a toned stomach and not much of a chest, to be honest. She is quite muscular-looking for a girl, and she’s proud of that. And, it looks great on her!

🔪 Jeff is pretty muscular. He’s got that height going for him, and he enjoys a good workout so there’s some good muscles as well. He has a toned stomach and a bit of visible biceps when he flexes. This body type is something he had to work for though, his natural body type is a slim mid-size.

❓Hoodie is a buff king! He’s tall as well, with a toned stomach and abs. His natural body type is actually just slightly muscular, but he built himself up to be B U F F.

🤍 EJ is a big, buff boi. Before the transformation, he was actually lean. But now? He’s part demon, of course he’s going to be large and strong. He has abs now, and visible muscles hiding underneath his clothes. He has a habit of shrinking into himself though. He’s never liked his body much, and he’s insecure in his new form. Help him see that he is handsome and great just the way he is!

🎭 Masky is, admittedly, a bit chunky. He’s hella strong though, and could def beat your ass easily in any kind of competition. He gets very defensive if anyone brings it up in a negative light, or when there’s lots of people around, due to the fact that he was very insecure as a teen. If it’s brought up when it’s a one-on-one convo or if it’s gently mentioned, he’ll probably say “yeah, I’ve got kind of a dad bod thing going on, I guess,” and try to quickly change the subject. Poor boy eats when he’s stressed and then is guilty about it afterwards. He needs somebody to tell him that his body is beautiful, and then help him take care of it. He could use some love, and some reassurance of his beauty (chubby boys are so cute and wonderful and just 🥵). Please be gentle with his heart and help him raise his self-esteem <3

I thought of the song S.L.U.T. by Bea Miller when I wrote this. You should listen to it, it’s good for self-esteem!! :)

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thecleverdame · 4 years

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This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Three

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta: ilikaicalie

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

“This is what I look like,” you whisper unable to look at yourself for more than a second at a time.

You didn’t realize how much you avoided seeing your own reflection until this moment. You are unrecognizable. You look like a shell of a person, an empty husk that’s been hollowed out and held together by string and sheer force of will. You've wasted away to almost nothing. Your eyes are sunken, your hair matted and ratty.

“I can’t.” You look away as tears slip down your face. “I can’t go out in public like this.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Rowena takes your hands in hers. “You’re beautiful. It’s just been hidden for a long time and we have to find it, bring it to the surface.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this.” You feel the panic rising, how could you have possibly entertained the idea that a prince would be interested in this thing you’ve become.

“You just let me take care of everything. Come with me.”

She leads you to the dining room, sitting you at the head of the table and unpacking her satchel full of dried herbs and flowers. She grinds together a homemade concoction with a mortar and pestle, then puts in it all in a small stone bowl.

“I need your hand, dear.” She holds out her palm expectantly and you hesitantly hand over yours. Brandishing a rather terrible looking knife, she makes a tiny cut on your palm and turns it over so that the blood drips into the bowl.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly.

“There’s nothing to be scared of.” Giving your hand a squeeze she twirls her finger toward you. “Now, I need you to sit back and close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you, do you understand?”

“Yes.” You give her one last look and blink your eyes shut.

“I want you to think of the last time you felt completely safe and happy.”

“I was very young.”

“That’s perfectly alright. Just hold that moment in your mind.”

You nod and remember one of the only detailed memories you have of your father, the way he smelled and the sound of his voice reading stories before bed.

Rowena's voice is low in the background, reciting some ancient incantation.

“Tui gratia Iovis gratia sit cures. Tui gratia Iovis gratia sit cures,” she chants.

A strange, exciting feeling spreads from your belly out in all directions. Sore muscles begin to relax one by one and the kink in your back is suddenly gone. This healing glow emanates out until you are restored from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“Now, think about the most beautiful dress you could ever imagine,” Rowena whispers.

You think back to a powder blue dress you saw in the city last year, you can’t remember the details but it was ornate and surely made of the finest fabrics. A dress the likes of which you would never have the chance to wear.

“Keep your eyes closed and stand up.” You listen to her shuffle closer, taking your hand and guiding you across the room. “Now, open your eyes and have a look.”

Your reflection is not one you recognize. The haggard woman from before is gone and in her place in a breathtaking picture of a woman. A woman of such beauty you’ve never seen anyone who could possibly compare.

“This is not me,” you gasp, moving your hand up and down to ensure the image is real.

“It is you.” Rowena smiles. “I didn’t change a thing. The spell I cast was not transformative, but rather a spell of healing. I restored you to your natural state. This what you should look and feel like if it wasn’t for that awful tea and a lack of a proper mate. This is the true you.”

“It’s not possible,” you murmur, leaning forward to inspect your pink cheeks, supple skin, and shining hair. A thought occurs to you and your stomach drops. “The prince will not recognize me.”

“Oh, I think your prince would you know anywhere,” she laughs. “He saw the beauty in you without any magic. I simply brought it to the surface for everyone else to enjoy as well.”

Blushing, you focus on the dress. This incredible dress. You couldn’t get past your face but now this dress is all you can see. The bodice is tightened just right to give you an ample amount of cleavage, pushing everything up just so. The waist is synched and then puffs out into a shimmering pale blue ball gown that takes your breath away. The sparkles are twinkling as if the fabric is alive, made of tiny fireflies.

“I can’t believe this is me.” You stare in awe at yourself, a million feelings bubbling up, but one overtakes them all. This is all so that you can see Sam again. “How will I get there?”

“You should know by now, I’ve thought of everything.”

You follow her outside, watching as she finds the fattest pumpkin in the garden. With a twitch of her wrist, it begins to grow and grow, slowly forming the shape of a sliver, glittering carriage.

“And now for a driver.” Rowens bends down and picks up a squealing mouse, your little friend from the basement.

“You don’t hurt him will you?” You watching cautiously.

“Of course not,” she wiggles her nose and drops the mouse. But what hits in the ground is a teenage boy who blinks wide-eyed at the pair of you. “Now, my dearest Y/N, you must go. Your prince is waiting for his mystery woman.”

“I know you’re disappointed, but you might at least try to conceal it.” Dean stands beside his brother, sipping wine.

“I knew this wouldn’t work,” Sam sighs. He looks around the packed room, hundreds of people laughing and dancing. Every woman in the place is hoping to be noticed by him but he's only interested in one person. “She’s not coming.”

“You don’t know that for sure. She could be late,” Dean offers.

“This late?” Sam raises an eyebrow. “Hours late to a royal ball?”

“It does seem unlikely.” Their father, King John, appears behind them. “Are you positive she’s not here? There are so many women, perhaps she’s just lost in the crowd. You should do another walkthrough.”

“I would see her in an instant.” Sam’s disposition is souring with every passing minute. “This was a ridiculous rouse.”

“Well,” his father looks around. “You do need a wife Sam and you need one soon. We tried to find your mythical Omega and now we’re faced with reality. Pull yourself together and go talk to some of these women. There is a sea of beautiful faces and they’re all looking to you.”

“He’s coming this way!” Alex squeals in delight, grabbing her sister’s hand.

“Calm down!” Claire hushes.

“She’s right, compose yourself.” Naomi, stands up straight, behind both her daughters. “Remember what we talked about.”

The youngest prince is headed toward them with his mother on his arm. Naomi has had the good fortune to have met Queen Mary on a couple of occasions and knows she’ll focus in on a familiar face. Like clockwork, the Queen spots Naomi and smiles in relief, tugging her son along.

All three women bow as Sam comes to stand in front of them.

“Good to see you again my queen,” Naomi speaks first.

“And you, Naomi. You look well. And who do we have here?”

“My daughters, Alex and Claire.” She makes the introduction to Sam who smiles softly.

“We’re having such a lovely time.” Alex bats her lashes.

“Indeed. Although I expect it can be quite tiresome for you, Prince Samuel.” Claire has practiced and knows exactly how she’ll make her impression. “All this attention is a lot for one person to bear.”

“Yes, it can be.” Sam smiles, happy for any passing interaction that’s not another woman falling over herself to impress him. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, my lady?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Claire lifts her skirts and takes his hand as they walk through a whispering crowd.

Sam hasn’t danced with a single woman all night.

Alex sighs, and Mary stands beside Noami while their children dance in front of a crowd of onlookers.

“She’s a very pretty girl. How old?” Mary inquires.

“Twenty this spring,” Naomi confirms, holding back the urge to jump with joy.

“Old enough,” Mary mutters, more to herself than anyone else. “It was wonderful to see you, Naomi, I hope to see more of you and your lovely daughters in the future.”

“As do I.”

You’re late. There’s no one else about as your carriage arrives and you climb up the steps of the castle. What if the ball is ending? What if Sam has found another woman he likes better than a scullery maid? What if your heart breaks in a thousand pieces? But nothing can be worse than the life you’re already living.

Reaching the top of the stairs you look to your right. There’s another wide staircase descending downward and you can see the outskirts of the ball and hear the music and voices swirling into the night.

It’s now or never.

You take one last look down at your dress, your plump bosom and twinkling skirt. I look like I belong here, you tell yourself and begin to descend down the staircase.

Sam has just finished his dance with Claire. He kisses the back of her hand as hundreds of eyes watch with bated breath. He says his goodbyes and turns to look for his brother. He’s in need of some air and stronger drink.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies someone entering late. He turns to find a sight that takes his breath away. He’d recognize you anywhere, but you’re a far cry from the women in the field. Your tattered dress has been replaced with a brilliant gown. You’re practically glowing. But your face is unchanged, that breathtaking beauty that’s been seared into his mind for weeks.

He nearly trips over himself, scrambling through the crowd that parts like the Red Sea.

You’re scared, looking around for something familiar, but instead, are met with what seems like a million faces scrutinizing the late-comer interrupting the festivities. Fear rises in your throat and you’re about to turn and run away as your prince steps forward out of the crowd with a brilliant smile plastered across his face

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” You can’t help but stare at how handsome he looks, hair slicked back and overcoat fitted perfectly.

“You came,” he breathes, staring at you as he offers you a hand down from the last step. He pulls you closer, taking both your small hands between his. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

“On the contrary,” you crane your neck up toward him like a flower searching for sunlight. “You are all I’ve thought of.”

“You look radiant.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Just as I remember.”

You don’t have a response for that, but the whispers of the people around you break the bubble.

“There are quite a few people watching us,” you whisper, looking around him.

“Are they? I thought we were alone.” He grins, giving a happy laugh. “I just want to hold you. Will you dance with me?”

“I would like nothing more.” You take his hand as he leads you toward the dance floor.

“And who do we have here?” John looks at his wife and eldest son as they watch from a terrace above the crowd.

“I think Sam has found his Omega,” Dean grins.

“Who is she?” Claire stands on her tiptoes, craning her neck to spy on this new mystery woman.

“Look at her dress,” Alex mutters in awe. “Where would someone even find a dress like that.”

“Paris?” Claire looks to their mother for confirmation. “She must be visiting”

“She’s beautiful, that's for sure.” Naomi squints, trying to get a better look as Prince Samuel leads his guest toward the dance floor.

“I don’t stand a chance against a woman like that,” Claire huffs, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Don’t count yourself out so quickly.” Naomi raises a brow. “Let’s see what we can find out about this rare beauty.”

“I can’t believe I’m here.” You stare up at this man towering above you who looks just as thrilled to see you as you are him. “I feared I’d ever see you again. This is a dream.”

“I tried to find you,” Sam explains. You’re swaying to music but only to keep up the appearance of dancing. This is nothing more than an excuse to touch each other. “I tried to follow you that day but you got away before I could. My brother and I searched, but I couldn’t remember how I found the willow tree. We spent days in the woods.”

“I’m sorry I ran away.” You want to tell him everything. All the details of your life and how it came to be what it is.

“Luckily my mother came up with this solution. She said you’d show up. I should have had more faith.”

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” you admit, swimming in his kind, understanding eyes.

“We’ll have time to talk later,” he assures you. Glancing up he grimaces as the music slows and the song ends. “Can we go somewhere private?”

“Yes, of course,” you agree. He offers his arm as you head toward the corner of the room, gossip already spreading.

Sam leads you down a series of dark and winding hallways. You have to trot to keep up with him and nearly run right into his back when he finally stops. You find yourself on a small balcony overlooking the lights of the kingdom below.

Sam pulls you into his arms, wasting no time with an intimate embrace and you eagerly gaze up at him. This time together is precious and you won’t take it for granted.

“I don’t know how it is that I feel so strongly about you.” His shining eyes search yours for understanding. “We’re strangers and yet I feel as if you are the piece I’ve been looking for all along.”

“I feel the same. After that day we met, I felt sick, more ill than usual. I’ve never met an Alpha before so I didn’t know what was happening but I think you did something to me.”

He makes a sound akin to a growl, a low hum in his throat as his long fingers curl tight around your waist.

“Do you understand the gravity of what you are?” he asks, a hand sliding over your neck as his thumb trails your jawline. “That being an Omega means you don’t have much choice in where or who you end up with?”

“I haven’t had much of a choice since I was a girl.” You breathe jagged breaths as his eyes drop to your breasts. “But I had a choice tonight and I chose to come and find you.”

“I want to make you mine,” he confesses. “I’ll do it tonight if you want it too.”

“I do but...there is so much you don’t know about me.” You want time to talk, to get to know each other and slow down this frenzied pace, but you also know that’s not possible.

“Do you belong to another?” he asks.

“No.”

“Do you want to be mine?”

You blink up at him, knowing this is the moment that will change your life.

“So much,” you whisper.

His lips catch yours without another word, the heft of his tongue sliding over yours and the sweet forage of his mouth searching deeper. He kisses you senseless, the press of his mouth is unrelenting until neither of you can breathe and he’s forced to pull away.

His touch is invigorating, the physical proximity bringing you to life as you pull him back down for another kiss. He backs you up against the wall, the heat and weight of him nearly crushing you into the stone. But you’d happily die just like this, in his arms and surrounded by his scent.

“Can I have you here and now?” he pants, pink lips parted while he waits for your answer.

“Yes!” you plead, gripping his arms as he dips down to scent you, open mouth leaving a wet trail up your neck. A shudder runs up your spine and you twist into him, desperate for more.

Immediate disappointment sets in as his body leaves yours, but it’s quickly tempered as you watch him crouch down to gets his hands under your dress. You feel his big, warm hands on your bare legs as he slides upward, brushing over the back of your knees and then your thighs, lifting your skirts.

You give a little shout when he cups your backside, one buttock in each palm as your feet leave the floor and your thighs seal around his hips. He dips back in for a quick kiss and then performs a balancing act of holding you up with one arm and somehow reaching the crotch of his pants.

The warm, silky-soft head of his manhood is suddenly pressed against your inner thigh and your eyes widen in anticipation.

That familiar throb is back, the ache between your legs that you never felt until Sam came along.

The dress proves to be problematic, but it doesn’t stop either of you. You giggle against his lips as he fishes through layers of tulle to find his own cock.

Your light-hearted laugh turns into a moan as you feel him push the head of his shaft against your sex, slipping easily inside where you’re slick and warm.

“God,” he gasps against your mouth, before pulling back and looking up at the ceiling as he slides all the way inside, filling you to the absolute brim. “Omega,” he groans.

“Alpha,” you respond in kind, wiggling your thighs against his hips. It hurts but just a bit. Any true discomfort is overshadowed by how perfectly he fills you. If he were any bigger you wouldn’t be able to take him. This is surely fate the way your bodies join together.

With a grunt, he pulls out, watching your face as he slides back inside. Your senses are overcome, nonsensical, as he begins to move in a hurried rhythm fucking you against the stone of the castle.

This was not how you pictured your first time together. You’d never admit to how many times you fantasized about what it would be like to have him between your legs. But none of those fantasies had you fully dressed, with stone scraping up and down your spine.

And yet it’s perfect. You want him any way you can get him and in this moment, this rough, less than fairy tale moment, it’s exactly what you both need.

His hand struggles to hold you in place while the other reaches between your bodies. He fumbles several times, almost losing his grip before giving up and curling all ten fingers into your backside.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts, scraping his nose up the side of your neck. “I wanted to touch you, to bring you pleasure.”

“You are,” you gasp. “Please just...don't stop.”

“I thought you were gone forever, Omega.” His voice is hot breath over the hollow of your throat as he nips and kisses his way across your chest. “I won’t let you go again.”

His words are like smoke, curling inside you, the sound of his voice is enough to bring you pleasure. He’s moving faster now, his cock stroking easily in and out of your sex at a pace that has you bouncing in his arms as he chases his own release.

You feel him beginning to swell. You’ve only heard whispered stories, but enough to have a vague idea of what’s coming. The thick ring of muscle at the base of his cock thickens rapidly until he gives one final thrust and buries himself in you to the tilt. There’s an even more challenging stretch that should hurt, but instead triggers your Omega instincts.

You cum with his name on your lips, the back of your head smacking the wall as you squeeze around his cock, fluttering and shaking from the burst of satisfaction that makes your jaw clench.

Completely engulfed in this new indulgence you’re unprepared when his teeth sink into your neck. You feel your skin tear open as his hips push upward, trying to rut further inside you as he makes a permanent mark, biting even deeper than he needs to.

You cry out, still racked with pleasure that now blend with sharp pain and a sense of complete catharsis. The fear and pain you’ve been holding on to since your father died let's go in a deluge of emotion and you begin to cry.

He nuzzles his face into your shoulder. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s not that,” you sniffle. He raises his head to look at you, blood on his lips.

“What is it then?” he asks gently, rubbing the tip of his nose over yours. “My knot?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong. For the first time, there’s nothing wrong.” You look into his eyes, he’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. “I’m yours.”

He smiles, his eyes darting to the fresh claiming bite.

“Yes, you are. We’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

He holds you in this precarious position until his knot recedes. There’s a sad, empty feeling without the heat of his body pressed against you. Then the uncomfortable sensation of his seed sliding down your thighs.

“Come with me,” Sam grins, tucking you under his arm and leading you back inside the castle.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #alpha!sam winchester

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mythicalmythology · 6 years

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So @vithcytries and i emailed a lot back and forth last month and asked more about my OC Clem from a recent commission she did for me (which will be posted soon) and i have too much to say so y’all can read me rambling about my OC Clementine,the demon from my book They Come From the Shadows along with her other friends/ characters

like what's her relationship with her parents like? - Clem is the daughter of Lilith and Lucifer (who are left up to various interpretations) , born and raised in Italy living a rather charmed childhood life. Her family works for the Empire as the official Keepers to keep more sinister and evil creatures from the darkest parts of the universe (places men can’t even comprehend) from getting out and into their world and the humans. She’s very much close to immortal aging slowly than most people. Her mother , Lilith, growing up when not watching over the gates (something her and her husband trade off on) is a sex worker that Clem highly admires as her mother taught her she can be an independent woman no matter what anyone tells her. Her father supports her choices as he wants to see his daughter happy and taught her sins are not inherently evil or bad and to use them to her advantage. With that said her father is mainly the one who got her started on murdering men or women who have done evil acts and to pleasure those looking to indulge. She found it was a great way to get dirt on people and the Empire has made her their official spymaster, a position her parents are most proud of her achieving.

What are the things that get her to show her true form? - because of her Demon background, Clem does have a truer form she was born with that includes sharp teeth, black eyes and white hair. The appearance she puts forth is one she’s chosen to take of a redhead with green blue eyes. She’s not exactly proud of this half or part of her as it often leads her to be not fully in control of herself. It often comes out in two ways: extreme emotions or pain. Depending on the level of emotion and pain it can be as minor as the eyes becoming a tiny bit duller, maybe her teeth feeling s little bit sharper , or full form. Seeing her loved ones or friends be harmed or disrespected or partaking in sex (though it has to be amazingly good) is the easiest way to get it out of her emotionally while pain wise would take a gunshot or stab to body.

How did she and Kai end up together?- Kai is Clem’s primary partner, a werewolf who dabbles in politics and business. Clem does have other lovers, clients who she bonds with or takes a liking to but only see each other whenever they visit her and know she’s not leaving Kai anytime soon for them. Clem owns her own flat in the city and has her family estate outside of the city, she spends her time at Kai’s bedroom up in the attic of their friend Dorians doctor clinic. The clinic is where they about a year ago after Kai came in with a gunshot wound to his shoulder after being shot while out hunting. Coming in as a full blown wolf, it wasn’t till the morning she saw him as a man and because Dorian had other private matters to do, Clem was the one to nurse him back to health and care for his wound. The attic became his room after Kai felt he couldn’t lead any hunters back to his mother and put her in harms way. Despite being a healing mage or practicing it , magic can’t always heal a bullet wound. The more time they spent together the more he enjoyed her company and respected her line of work and began to court her (or date her) and have been in love ever since.

Who are the other members of the gang? - @vithcytries asked this when I said there was other members and friends Clem knew and here is an overview of them part 1 :

Dorian Jackson: Once a mortal man born before the fall of Rome and studying medicine he was killed as Rome fell but the Empire had use of him as a healthy young man and used him as a solider before moving him to a special unit force in charge of murdering and killing monsters. He still puts his doctor training to use and runs a clinic out of the city and is immortal. He had a son with a mortal woman who he named Teddy. He’s very much in love with Queen Madia but their professional roles keep them apart (in the public eye at least). Classified as a spirit / demon

Queen Madia : ruler of the Empire she’s the vampire queen who’s been alive for a very long time. She was married to a ruthless king who foolishness killed him leaving Madia with her eldest son and two younger twins. She oversaw Dorian coming in and even the one who appointed him the new position. She loves Dorian even when married but followed strict vampire orders and rules. Since her husbands passing she very much looks to reform a lot of rules and rules with justice and peace in mind. Her eldest son, Roman, is off fighting war and in the same squad as Dorians son Teddy

Squad Clockwork: the military squad specialized in enlisting supernatural creatures or humans who work closely with them, Squad Clockwork in composed of Teddy Jackson, Roman Di Vittorio, Alexander and Dakota

Teddy: born to Dorian and unknown mother, he was left on his father’s doorsteps to be looked after and raised after his mother took off with him before giving birth. His dad raised him with a good childhood and education even teaching some about the medical practice. However Teddy found himself called off to war by England and there he met Alexander and Dakota, two humans who dabble with the supernatural. He’s known Roman his whole life and were childhood friends growing up and even began to court one another. Teddy is a spirit like his father and finds water to be his source of talent. He’s one of Clem’s best friends and poly like her as he has many partners but primarily goes home to the guys in his squad.

Roman: A vampire like his mother he doesn’t want to rule at all over the empire. He joined the war to follow and be with Teddy as he wasn’t about to allow the man he loved to die in battle alone. He’s the best in the squad with tactics and planning. He has know Teddy all his childhood and is greatful for his dad for being there for his mother Madia. He spends most time when mot deployed with his mom and two younger siblings. Teddy , Alexander and Dakota are his primary partners and lovers. He didn’t get along with his father at all and the Elders are unhappy he chose to go fight a war.

Alexander: back home Alexander is the kind of guy you’d last expect to fight a war. His family is disgustingly rich as they’re all crime bosses and criminals and Alexander is in charge of handling the family’s finances. He’s not much of a peoples person and rather enjoys being alone. He grew tired of being in crime with his family and decided to join the war to get away from home and the crime. He doesn’t make any plans to return back home once it’s over. Him and Dakota were childhood friends who sadly got split apart after Dakotas father moved them away. They both reconnected after joining in and ended up dating. When they both met Roman and Teddy they also started to date them as well.

Dakota: Dakota comes from a middle class family of factory workers, a job he didn’t want to be doing for the rest of his life. His family a rather large one with him having many siblings who, if old enough, worked in some of the local factories. After his father moved from England to Germany for awhile Dakota found himself to befriending and finding the supernatural creatures around there and the Empire granted him a job to work for them which was to join Squad Clockwork. Seeing it as a way out he accepted it and never looked back. He was happy to see Alexander join in a few months later having not seen his friend for over a few years and was happy to be working with someone he knew. His humor is his best quality and helps the squad get through rough days. He sees/ dates Teddy, Roman and Alexander with Alexander as his main partner.

Cassandra: a witch/ necromancer, Cassandra is the magical adviser for Queen Madia. She doesn’t stray far from her home in woods which has been given the nickname The Forest of Corpses so the only time she is ever seen is in the woods or the Empire whenever Madia calls for her. She was born in the country side out in Norway before making her way to England. In the woods she works with the Maiden and the Maiden’s Lover helping those who come into the woods to die or animals who are dying pass on peacefully.

There’s a part 2 to come so stay tune !!

#my ocs #writing #my writing #my book #ocs #TCFTS #writing: they come from the shadows

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dtravrs · 6 years

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✧*:･ﾟ✧ merlin! is that SEAN TEALE? no, it’s just DEIMOS TRAVERS the SIXTH YEAR SLYTHERIN ( PUREBLOOD ). we’ve heard rumors that HE ( CIS MALE ) is PRINCIPLED, DECISIVE & OBSERVANT but can also be very RUTHLESS, HATEFUL & SCHEMING. if i had to pick one song to describe HIM it would be YOU’RE GONNA GO FAR, KID BY THE OFFSPRING. Good luck with the rest of your time at Hogwarts.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: child abuse, murder mention, torture mention, snake mention.

BASICS.

name. Deimos ( terror ) Pythios ( to rot ) Travers.

age. Sixteen / Seventeen.

year. Sixth year.

house. Slytherin.

wand. Elm wood, Dragon Heartstring core, 12″ long.

patronus. He cannot produce one, but if he were able, it would be a black mamba.

boggart. His father, disappointed in him, wand pointed at his chest.

zodiac. Capricorn.

sexuality. Heterosexual.

pets. The family Owl, Hermes.

BACKGROUND.

deimos was born january 8th to the less-than loving pythios travers and his wife, daniela travers (nee marquez). their marriage had been born of controversy of the likes which never really mattered that much to anyone - daniela, recently widowed and now a british citizen, had been purportedly sleeping with a number of influential pureblood figures (an accusation which her father resented), and the only reasonable solution was to seek a marriage with such an influential figure - pythios, with the recent crumbling of his betrothal, was the only natural choice. (of course, nobody truly cared - but it was an accusation which the marquez family sought to crush, for no other reason than protecting their standing, as though it would be damaged - they were new to the pureblood circles in england, and had very little standing in most circles, regardless.)

[tw: allusion to child abuse as such, deimos was the child that was bounced between parents, of whom held no true interest in him, even from a young age, the expectations were piled upon him. his purpose was to absolve the reputations of his parents, and maintain the standing in pureblood society they knew they deserved. he wasn’t ever allowed to be a child - there were always hands on his shoulders, turning him away from the sight of other sacred 28 children being allowed to play quidditch or even walk around the grounds. deimos was sheltered, molded into the image of his namesake, and was often found at his fathers’ side, observing the way the travers family business worked (they traded, most often, with the famed borgin and burke’s, and had a quiet storefront hidden in knockturn alley, dedicated to the research into dark spells and the ancient dark texts from as early as the 5th century, only open to those who knew the location well enough.) end of tw]

[tw: child abuse deimos did not grow up loved, nor did he grow up spoiled. he grew up with a rigid routine, going to bed hungry if he stepped out of line, receiving a sharp smack to his cheek from his mother if he said something out of line, and the only times he can remember any of them having smiles on their faces were at the pureblood galas they had to attend, like clockwork. if anyone were to ask deimos about his childhood, he’d rarely ever tell them the truth. he’d tell the stories of working with his uncle in the travers family store and of how his father is the reason he is who he is today, but he’d rarely tell the stories of how he would be locked away in his room, how he’d not see his mother for days until she showed up for the necessary public outings. his childhood left him with unresolved issues - not, per say, an over-inflated sense of self-worth (although, you could argue that his position on blood purity extends to the superiority of himself), but a rather rigid sense of what things should be, how the world should be, and a tendency to find the negative in everything, whilst seemingly separating himself from reality. end of tw]

if there was one person in his life that he would point to as the one who would show him affection or any form of love, it would be his grandmother, lachesis. she helped to raise him, when his mother wasn’t around - arguably, she’s the only person he truly gives much of a damn about, although she was still cold, although less so than his father and less so than his mother. she was not the type to give him extra helpings of food or to caress his cheek for doing well. she was the type to not punish him if he got a word wrong, the type to leave him a book at the end of his bed as a gift for doing well. she was distant, but she was more present than the others. going to hogwarts was something pythios wished deimos could have avoided. it was only after his mother reminded him how it could potentially complicate things if he was sent to durmstrang that they allowed his admission to hogwarts. it’s as far from a home as deimos can imagine. his home is cold, but it’s still his. hogwarts is far too welcoming, in his eyes, to those who do not deserve it. he was sorted into slytherin, and of course, feels some form of kinship with salazar slytherin himself. he lives by principles. his entire life, up until this point, has been increasingly structured. his grades are high, his work ethic, seemingly, even higher, and interest in dark magic a little too strong to be much other than incredibly troubling.

TRAVERS FAMILY TRADITIONS.

Everyone is familiar with the naming traditions of the Black family. From Andromeda to Sirius to Walburga, each name is chosen for the fact they are all names of constellations. The Travers family have always taken their names from Ancient Greek mythology. The first recorded Travers, Adrastos ( named for the figure in Ancient Greek mythology, who was a king of Argos ), was the proponent of this tradition - which has been upheld ever since. Each Travers male is named for a figure in Greek mythology, while also retaining the name of his father. Each Travers female is named for two figures in Greek mythology, as is tradition.

EXAMPLES: Andromache ( derived from man; derived from battle ) Ismene ( knowledge ) Travers, the first shop-keep of the Travers family business, Pythios ( to rot ) Patroclus ( glory of the father ) Travers, Deimos’ father & original member of the Knights of Walpurgis.

Once a Travers turns seventeen, they receive their own portion of the land on which they were raised as well as unsupervised access to the family vault. This is customary, and has only ever been revoked thrice - Linux Travers lost his access to the family vault and land when he married a muggle ( as a result, his children were targets until they moved to America sometime in the late 1890s ), Endymion Travers lost his when he became a member of the International Confederation of Wizards ( sometime in the 1920s ) and became an open supporter of muggle integration, and Clytemnestra Travers lost hers for falling in love with a muggleborn ( long, long ago. )

The Travers family have had a series of homes in their long, long history. The three they currently own are the Travers family home in rural Wales, the summerhouse in Italy, and the springhouse in London ( which has, undeniably, become more of a home to his father in the previous years, due to it’s closeness to Knockturn Alley. )

RAMBLINGS / FACKS.

guilty of being prejudiced against p much everyone???

the only people he doesn’t outright hate are other slytherin’s but even then some of those are probably people who just annoy tf out of him

the lack of Chill is scary ( he’s... a terrifying person )

can hold a grudge for a v v long time

his childhood is a HUGE part of who he is even though he’ll deny it

he remembers, vividly, spending hours and hours and hours pouring over books in the travers family library to impress his father only to get a brief glance in his direction when he tells his father what he’s learnt

he’s learnt, by now, that his father only will be proud of him if he upholds the expectations laid on his shoulders

his mother actually isn’t a death eater but is v much someone who is a purist and has done nothing to stop the eventual integration of deimos into the death eaters / knights of walpurgis

learned how to make a lot of potions at a v young age, usually because his father lacked the ability to care about making them properly and wanted to take that Responsibility off his shoulders

sticks in a v v tiny circle of fellow purebloods + future death eaters

has a soft spot for, like, three people

[tw: child abuse, injury (sorta) still has scars from his father using magic to beat him when he was a child end of tw]

[tw: murder, torture actually found out his father was a murderer earlier this year + was guilty of all the accusations ( unproven ) which emerged in the years before he was born + honestly inherited his hateful side from him

an entitled asshole who lives and breathes blood purity and believes wholeheartedly in the death eaters ( or, perhaps, believes in the violence they preach being the best way to remind people that the purebloods are the ones who deserve all the control )

literally the WORST he supports both torture + murder + probably takes part in the former just as much as the latter before the end of the first war + he’s sent to azkaban for murder end of tw]

throw actual trash at him, please, he deserves it (#trashbagtravers)

#vulneraintro #// this is v diff to hestia's???? idk what this is

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reignettes · 5 years

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& . headcanon / reinette’s love for the doctor .

( that icon is relevant fight me. ) k so i’m covering this before i cover anything else on this blog because it’s important to my portrayal of reinette and to any interactions she has with any other doctors. my reinette was in love with ten. this does not fall in line with how the episode ‘ the girl in the fireplace ’ liked to make reinette revolve around her love for the doctor. let me explain.

the doctor rescued reinette from the clockwork droids when she was seven years old. this mystical man came from her fireplace twice in her childhood and saved her life. she spent the rest of her formative years growing up, comparing every man in her life to this one imaginary friend of hers, who was handsome and brave, and who saved her life. she built him up as a hero in her head. she probably didn’t really know she loved him, but he was her hero. her rescuer. no other man can compare. not her husband. perhaps the king, but only because he is king, and kings are known to be great men.

and then he appears again. she is twenty-one now, and she realises her childhood hero is real and she kisses him because that !! is !! astounding !! to her. she is so shocked to discover he is real, and that her hero has come back to her, and she is in love with him. i’m not saying it’s a healthy love. it has been built up through decades dreaming of this dashing handsome hero, dressed so strangely, it seemed like it must have been a dream. and if it is a dream, too, if he’s not real and she’s dreaming, then kissing him won’t do any harm. so she does. and then she runs away. admittedly, it is at her mother’s insistence since she is late, but she has every right to be later.

she doesn’t put another thought to it. he may never appear again. she is convinced he was only a dream, and she sets her sights on the king in the way she has been trained for. she has been raised since childhood with one goal in mind - become the king’s mistress. and that, she will do. she is clever and beautiful, witty and charming. it should be an easy task for her, far easier than other things in life ( which will be discussed in another post. )

and then on the night she is to meet the king, the night she is to make him love her, the doctor appears again. her mysterious hero, appearing on this night, it must be a sign. and he saves her life from another clockwork droid. it is the definition of hero worship; she loves him because he is her saviour, at first. adores him for it. she is young and although she is married, she has also been taught to disregard her husband in the interest of pursuing the king. she does not have a particular attachment to either. she loved the doctor first. she does come to love the king, but in her own words, he is one of two people she loves. the king and the doctor.

( on account of her reading the doctor’s mind without permission: this was wrong and later in her life, she recognises this. at the time, she was young and curious, having her own mind read by someone who just saved her life, and had just learned that such creatures existed, that mind-reading was possible for the doctor, and she wanted to know who he was, her mysterious hero. this does not excuse her actions, and does not make it okay, and i headcanon that she does apologise for it in her later years. ) ( also it’s worth noting that on her end of the mind-reading, when given the opportunity to close the door on the doctor and hide certain thoughts or memories from him, she actively makes the decision not to. she trusts him with her life, with her memories, and there is nothing at all she wishes to hide from him. this, again, doesn’t mean her reading his mind without consent is okay, but it does explain a little about what her thought process was - she’s a bit like i don’t want to hide anything from him, why would he have anything to hide from me? it highlights her naivety in this aspect, even though she is far from naive in many ways, she knows nothing of space travel or aliens, she knows only of her own era. )

she was twenty four then. after a night spent drinking and dancing, the doctor does not appear in reinette’s life for eight years, and even then, it is rose who comes to her, not the doctor. this gives her much time to think and reflect. she is older now, much older and wiser. she has been the king’s mistress all this time, and while she is popular with some, she is also incredibly unpopular with others. she is clever enough to maintain her position but she worries. by now she has ceased all sexual relations with the king because of her ill health and maintains her status through her role as the king’s friend, trusted aide and adviser. she knows, by now, that the monsters follow him - or he follows the monsters. either way, she cannot have one without the other. rose shows her this, when she realises her own future to be bleak and in peril, and that she must wait for it to come. she no longer worships the doctor as a hero, time has taught her that she cannot, but she does still love him. it is a much more mature love.

she says he is worth the monsters, which is to say that she recognises life with him would never ever be safe, but she is also not expecting to have a life with him. she spent her youth living in anticipation for the day he would return, she danced with him on the night she became the king’s mistress, he made himself a formative part of her existence and while he does not define her, she is a different person because of him. as a grown and experienced woman, she knows she would never have a life with the doctor. that is why she allows herself to continue loving him. because it might hurt, this non-permanence of him, the way he swans in and out of her life with no warning, but it is a momentary distraction and a momentary excitement. she focuses on her duties and waits for him because it is all she can do. he says he will appear sometimes after her 37th birthday and so will those monsters, and because she knows that, she spends every day both dreading and anticipating it, because it means he will come back. just for a short time. it gives her something to wait for in the bleak, grey days of poor health, of battling the king’s other mistresses and maintaining her position in the face of adversity. it gives her a little more strength.

tl;dr: reinette does love the doctor. but she does have a very accomplished life outside of the doctor, and this should also be recognised !!

#long post //#❧ iv. ╱ headcanons ; first i shall make him jealous.#❧ vii. ╱ tenth doctor ; my lonely angel.

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

What Was Bound, What Was Loosed

This fic is a sequel to the Chains of Kings as well as being the fill for Dannymay Day 13: Regrets.

The young king slept for most of the first week of his reign. He did not seek his bedchambers, though they existed, and in a room not too far from the throne room. But he stayed in his throne, sleeping fitfully, and rising only to weep or shout or scream at nightmares.

It was a good omen. Pariah had not been so peaceful.

It would not have been terribly surprising if the king had slept for a month, for a year, for longer. Remaking, healing, the Infinite Realms was no easy task. The burdens of kingship that now sat upon his slender shoulders were not light. The injuries inflicted on him during his coronation were painful, and those of them that would heal would take time to do so. The coronation itself was an exhausting procedure as well.

But His Infinite Majesty, High King Daniel Janus James Fenton-Phantom, first of his name, known to most ghosts simply as 'Phantom,' was a surprising person. After a week curled, shuddering, between the arms of his throne, he dragged himself up. He made it off the dais steps before he collapsed.

Fright Knight, the sworn protector of the king, hovered, wary. It would not be unusual for a newly-crowned king to lash out at, well, anyone and everyone. Phantom likely did not even know Fright Knight was there, and Fright Knight had intended to keep it that way until the king was rational.

But crumpled on the ground was not a dignified position for the ruler of all ghosts.

The Master of Time did not share Fright Knight's fears. He settled at the side of the king, who was, even now, trying to push himself up.

"Daniel," he said, softly, "is there somewhere you want to go?"

"You're still here?" asked the king, voice rough with sleep. He managed to turn on his side.

"Yes. For as long as you want me to be."

"I thought you left." The king fell silent for several long moments. "I need to see," he said, finally. "Outside. And-" He touched his face, fingers creeping up to trace the petals of the flowers that had replaced his eye. "I need to see."

"I can carry you somewhere that you can look out, if you would like," said Clockwork. "May I pick you up?"

The question was cautious. Delicate.

The king curled in on himself. "You hurt me," he said, voice wavering. "Why?"

"It was necessary," said Clockwork. "The Realms need a king. For the good of both worlds." A hint of regret lurked behind the Ancient's words. "You were and are the best choice."

"I hate you," whispered the king, as vehemently as he had the first time he had awoken after the coronation. He repeated it a few more times, under his breath. "Take me there. I need to see."

Clockwork dipped his head, and carefully maneuvered the king into his arms, cradling him like a small child. The king rested his head on Clockwork's shoulder, on hand tangled in Clockwork's robe.

He tensed when he saw Fright Knight, his breathing speeding to an almost human rate.

"He is here to serve you," said Clockwork. "He is the protector and servant of the king."

The king relaxed, minutely.

In past ages, the king's quarters were vast and opulent, adorned with grisly trophies and the relics of conquest. They were no longer so. The changes now being wrought on the Realms at large had been completed in miniature here.

Phantom's chambers were built on cleaner, more elegant lines. They were still rich, of course, the Ghost Zone would stand for no less for its king. Jewels sparkled from murals on the walls and ceilings. The upholstery was dark and intricately embroidered. The carpets were thick. The bath, luxurious. The bed, nest-like. The pillows, numerous. But the extravagance tended overall to the exquisite rather than the overblown.

Clockwork carried Phantom through the sitting room and private dining room and into the solarium. This room lay along the outer wall of the palace's central tower, or it would have, had all the stones in it not been replaced with glass. There were dozens of plants held in delicately painted planters and pots. Some hanging from the ceiling, some resting on the ground in carefully arranged and visibly pleasing patterns.

The king stirred at the sight. "Sam?" he muttered. He blinked, slow and heavy. "No..." he whispered, eye moving blindly over the plants, which began to wilt. "She's not here." Then he noticed the window, the view outside. "Bring me closer," he said.

He saw the blues mixed in with the greens, a thousand shades coexisting. He saw the palace, restored, the black stones filled with sparkling white veins, the glow of the courtyard no longer sickly, but bursting with vitality. On the edge of the palace's island, small stones and bits of dirt were clumping together, extending the ground. Small ghosts flitted and flickered through the air. Flowers bloomed along the walks. A small fountain was building itself in the center of the courtyard.

Phantom reached out, towards the glass, his fingers just barely brushing the surface.

"This is me," he said. The plants in the solarium regained a bit of life.

"Yes," said Clockwork.

The king let his hand drop again. "All the portals are gone," he said. "I can feel it."

Clockwork did not answer. There was no need to confirm what the king already knew.

"New ones can't open, can they?"

"I am afraid not," said Clockwork. "With your ascension to the throne, the Zone has healed and restructured itself. It will be a long time before new portals to the material world can form, naturally or otherwise."

"How long?"

"Centuries."

The sound the king made was despairing. He turned his face into Clockwork's shoulder, the edges of the leaves and petals of his crown digging into the Ancient's ectoplasmic flesh. Something cold ran down his face. Clockwork didn't make a sound.

"Do you still want a mirror?" asked Clockwork.

The king nodded. Clockwork took him to the bedroom. Here, the murals on the ceiling and walls were modeled after the night sky. Diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and other bright gems took the place of the stars. A pale disk of matte-finished silver replaced the moon. Phantom glared at them as if they had personally offended him.

On one side of the room was a large vanity. The mirror cabinet on top of it was closed. A carved chair sat in front of it. Clockwork carefully put the king in the chair, and went to open the cabinet.

Phantom's breath caught in his throat. "You're the one who brought me there, aren't you?" he asked. "You brought me there and put me on that throne."

Danger lay thick upon the air, the light growing dim. Behind the king, Fright Knight tensed.

"There were others," he said, his hand coming up to touch his chest, right where Fright Knight had plunged his sword through him. "I can feel them."

The king half turned in his chair, his single eye fixed on Fright Knight.

"You're afraid of me," he stated, simply.

And it was true. Fright Knight was afraid.

"My king," started Clockwork.

"Don't call me that," snapped the king, taking his eye off Fright Knight. "Just, don't. I want- Call me the way you usually do."

Clockwork nodded gravely. "Of course, Daniel," he said.

The king shuddered. "Show me," he said.

In the moment the king saw his reflection, the whole Zone stilled. The orbits of the islands and doors came to a halt. The ectoplasmic mists froze in place. Then, the moment passed, as if it had never happened.

The king raised his hand to his face, reassuring himself that it was real, that the mirror was true. He ran a hand through his two-colored hair. "Clockwork," he said, "what am I?"

"You are as you were," said Clockwork. "But, as with the Zone, you have been made whole. You are no longer divided."

"I want to go home," said the king, hunching his shoulders.

"I am sorry, Daniel."

"I never got to tell them," continued the king, as if he hadn't heard Clockwork. "I never got to show them. Would it even matter now? It's gone. My other- Both my faces. They're gone. I never got to tell them. Mom and Dad. I never- I should have told them. Why didn't I tell them?"

The king was weeping, sobbing. Soon he would exhaust himself again and fall back into his uneasy sleep.

"I should have told them about me. About Phantom. About me being Phantom. I should have told them." He took a deep shuddering breath. "And I should have told Jazz. I should have told her how much she meant to me. How much-" he gripped the arms of the chair. "How much it meant, that she accepted me, and everything she did... I should have told Sam and Tucker... they were my friends. I should have- There were things I should have said."

For a long minute, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of the king. Then the king turned his tear-filled eyes to Clockwork.

"You didn't even let me say goodbye," he said. "You could have let me say goodbye. Even a note. You could have taken me, anyway. I wouldn't have been able to fight you. Why didn't you let me say goodbye?"

Clockwork did not answer. He simply stood, head bowed, at his king's side, until the king had cried himself to sleep. Then he picked the king up, and carried him to the huge bed. He pulled the covers back with a touch of ghostly telekinesis and slid the king beneath them before tucking him in.

"Why didn't you let him say goodbye, before the coronation?" asked the Fright Knight after he was sure the king wouldn't wake. "It seems a simple enough thing."

The Master of Time favored Fright Knight with a bitter smile. "Because he is wrong," said Clockwork. "He could have fought me," he turned his red gaze back to the sleeping king, "and he would have won."

I don't think this is as good as the first chapter, overall, but I don't think it's bad. What do you guys think?

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2020 #day 13

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