District Boy

My favourite trio: The Post Office

Hello! My current hyper-fixation and maladaptive daydreaming scenarios center around Epic the Musical, created by the amazing Jorge Rivera-Herrans!

However, because I have a female main character bias, I tend to imagine the songs as if they were sung by best girl Penelope.

Thankfully, two artists have went ahead and drew this into reality! @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium (please check out their art, it is really good!)

Inspired by their works of perfection, I have went ahead and wrote the first of many vignettes based on this AU! There is also a version on Ao3, if you prefer that platform over Tumblr:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59221033

More will be coming soon, so be on the lookout for that if you enjoy this kind of thing!

Some important notes before you begin reading:

In this AU, Ares and Artemis have worked together over the years to train a bunch of Greek women and make them formidable warriors. After Ares break his promise to Hera to support the Greeks during the Trojan war, he offers his favorite student and her closest sisters-in-arms to fight in the war (as Hera is in favor of women gaining more power and influence in the Greek world).

This is what leads to Penelope being forced to fight in the war. Odysseus and the men of Ithaca are not allowed to take the places of these women, as Athena (on Hera's orders) orders him to stay in Ithaca.

Telemachus is also a girl in this AU, because I say so!

Epic! Swap AU #1 - The King of Ithaca

Odysseus tries to cope with single handedly running his kingdom and raising his daughter without his loving Penelope by his side. Unfortunately, the first of his suitors have made themselves at home in his palace… 

“Odysseus.” 

Odysseus did not respond to the call of his name. He did not want to leave his designated seat: the left side of the klines. It was picked out in collaboration with his wife upon their first week of marriage, with Penelope declaring that the right side belonged to her. Odysseus remembered laughing, saying that it made sense, “considering you are always right”. 

The klines was placed in the side-corner of their bedroom balcony, with a perfect view of Ithaca’s beaches on one side and the villages of the common folk on the other. Penelope always loved this spot, for if she wanted she could see the sky kiss the ocean on one side, or the hustle and bustle of her people, satisfied and content with their lives, on the other. 

He had a ritual for mornings. Every sunrise for the past 12 years, from the moment he wakes the King of Ithaca will spend a few minutes staring at the beaches surrounding his Kingdom; it was not long, but the minutes always lingered with a heavy sense of despair. 

It’s been so long since Odysseus last saw his wife lounging in this seat, beckoning him to join her in the morning whilst the kingdom was in a state of loving calm and peace. 

“Ody…” 

Odysseus flinched, knowing the other only called him by that name when he was concerned. 

Finally turning to look at his visitor, Odysseus saw Eurylochus leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom balcony. His best friend, his brother, was watching him with a sad look in his eyes. 

“They aren’t coming back-”

“You don’t know that.” Odysseus yelled out sternly. Though he immediately regretted it when he saw Eurylochus’ shoulders slump as let out a heavy sigh. 

“Eury… I-I’m sorry-” 

“It’s okay, Ody,” Eurylochus said with a small but sad smile. “I know.” 

Odysseus wanted to kick himself. After all, he and Eurylochus were stuck in the same horrible situation. 

After all, both men were in a state of longing. Odysseus longed from the moment he first awoke alone in his big, empty bed. Eury, who too woke in a lonely bedroom, longed in the exact same way. 

Both men longed for the return of their wives: Queen Penelope of Ithaca and her best friend and second in command, Ctimene.  

It had been 12 years since the God Ares ordered his favored student, Penelope, and her sisters-in-arms (trained by the God of War and Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis) to Troy on his behalf, all to “make up” with Hera after first siding with the Trojans on Aphrodite’s request. 

Odysseus remembered how he pleaded, begging to fight in his wife’s place, pride be damned! Especially since it had only been months since Penelope had given birth to their beautiful baby girl. Unfortunately, not even the King’s friendship with Athena could have spared his wife of her mentor’s decree; nor could it spare the many other women trained in the art of bloody war. 

It took 10 years for the war to end; Helen was reunited with Menelaus and the royalty of Troy were killed off to the last drop of blood. Rumors circulated within the Greek world that Penelope had a great hand to play in their victory, but the specificities were never clarified. 

The people of Ithaca could never forget the look of pure joy in their King’s eyes upon first hearing the news. However, whilst they thought their King’s happiness was because of his wife’s cunning and battle prowess being praised by all who could speak, those closest to Odysseus knew the truth. 

Odysseus was ecstatic that his wife was finally coming home. 

Penelope would once again be inside his arms, her warmth and scent no longer reduced to a distant memory. The people of Ithaca would once again have their queen, and Telemachas could finally meet the mother she had heard so many wonderful stories about. 

That’s how things should have been by now; and yet, 2 years after the war ended, the wives and daughters of Ithaca had still not returned. 

Presumed to now be widowers, the husbands and fathers of Ithaca reacted in very different ways. Many remarried, desperate to once again have their homes filled with the comfort of a wife and care of a mother. The rest could not bear the thought of remarriage, taking up vows of celibacy in honor of their fallen wives and praying to the Gods that their love alone would be good enough for their children. 

The one thing they all had in common: they knew their wives to be dead. 

This was where Odyesseus differed from them all. 

His people, Eurylochus, and now even Polites had tried telling him how likely it was that Penelope perished at sea. They reminded him that as the King of Ithaca, it was his duty to find a new Queen that could help rule and lead their Kingdom to prosperity. This was the standard procedure for Royalty in Greece.

But Odysseus was never one to follow the standard procedure. 

“Some of our… visitors… are making themselves at home in the throne room.” Eurylochus reminded Odysseus of the very thing he was trying to avoid. “They’re asking when you’ll go to see them.” 

Odysseus couldn’t mask his frustration. 

2 years. That’s all those selfish dogs had given him to “mourn” for the love of his life, for the mother Telemachas never had the chance to know. 

And now that the two years were up, they expected him to move on. 

“Already?” Odysseus commented as he rose from his seat, almost impressed with his “guests” desperation. “Helios hasn’t even placed the sun in its morning spot.”

“C’mon, you and I know human nature better than anyone.” Eurylochus scoffed, looking down to see the Palace’s yards beginning to pack with various women and their guards. “Who would ever resist the chance to obtain more power?” 

~

Odysseus, now wearing his royal chiton, walked down the halls of his palace with his head held high. Eurylochus walked by his side, hand strategically placed near the handle of his broadsword in order to quickly protect his King from strangers with ill intent. 

Eurylochus tried to lead Odysseus away from the hall of bedchambers, but the King stubbornly stopping in front of a familiar door forced both men to stop in their tracks. 

“Ody!” Eurylochus whispered-yelled through his teeth, obviously stressed beyond all doubt. 

“One second.” Odysseus had already pulled out a key he trusted only to himself, quietly unlocking the door. “I just want to check on her.” 

Odysseus could feel Eurylochus’ glare, but he knew his brother was not too bothered by his actions. After all, his most proud and precious achievement in life slept peacefully behind the once locked door. 

Telemachas’ chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. The princess was curled up in the middle of her bed, smiling in what must have been a pleasant dream. Laying right beside her was Argos, who had awoken the second she saw someone trying to enter her owner’s room. The dog immediately returned to sleep though when she saw it was only her past owner checking in on his pup. 

For a second, Odysseus forgot about the devastating cataclysm that was his life. 

He forgot that Athena was angry at him for allowing his wife to aid the Goddess’ rival brother, despite them both not having a choice. He forgot about the low morale his kingdom now felt, having lost their daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers. He forgot the anxiety he felt at the thought of betraying Penelope by marrying another far less worthy of her title as Queen of Ithaca. 

In that second, he even managed to forget that Penelope was no longer by his side; for a younger, less turmoiled version of her slept so happily within the safe haven of her room. 

A sudden mirthless chuckle, a depressing one, roused Odysseus from his thoughts. 

“Sometimes I wonder what mine and Ctimene’s would have looked like…” 

Odysseus felt his heart twist in pain at those words. He remembered how excited his sister was at the prospect of a child, especially after having met her niece. Eurylochus spoke to him in private about how excited he was to soon be a father and give Telemachas a friend. 

Imagine that: both couples laughing as they watched Polites and Circe play with the children, basking in the warm sun and ocean breeze of a peaceful summer’s day. 

So much they could have had, if not for the will of the Gods. 

“Eurylochus-”

“We really need to go.” Eury’s frown was quick to disappear. “I don’t think they’ll appreciate waiting any longer.” 

Though he could hide the sorrow on his lips, Eurylochus could not mask the despair in his eyes. However, even if Odysseus wanted to stay and probe, all to better comfort his friend, he knew that Eurylochus was right. 

If he wanted to keep the piece in his palace, he didn’t have a moment to lose. 

~

Odysseus and Eurylochus knew the throne room was busy due to the various voices coming from behind the closed doors. 

“What’s the hold up!?”

“We’ve been waiting for two hours!” 

“Why can’t we find the King ourselves?!” 

They all sounded feminine. And very annoyed. 

“Ladies, please!” Polites’ muffled voice sounded from the other side of the doors. “The King will arrive in just a moment! So, in the meantime, why don’t we all conduct ourselves in a polite, orderly fashion?” 

Another chorus of exasperated groans; if there were any words spoken then they were undecipherable due to the sheer loudness of the crowd. 

Odysseus saw Eurylochus toss him a look, one that had “I told you so” written all over it. 

Ody let out a deep breath, praying to the Gods above that he looked much more confident than he felt. With a nod to the other, Eurylochus took the hint and made his way to the double doors of the throne room. 

He threw the doors open, attracting the attention of every guest within the throne room, welcome or otherwise.

Eurylochus’ booming voice could be heard from every corner of the large room:

“Presenting the King of Ithaca, Odysseus!” 

Everyone within the throne room, friend, suitor, or guard, either kneeled or bowed at the sight of the King of Ithaca. 

Odysseus paid them no mind; he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular as he walked to his throne. He sat in the left royal seat, despite royal customs declaring he sit in the right. The right seat belonged to Penelope, and Penelope only. 

He would make sure every suitor in his palace remembered this. 

He took note of the amount of women littering his throne room, 32 in total. So far. 

Odysseus knew he had to find a way to delay this “inevitable” remarriage. If not for his fidelity and loyalty to Penelope, then for the sake of his daughter. Who knows what would happen to her if he remarries, for what Queen would allow the daughter of her predecessor to take the throne? 

No, he needed to be smart and tactical about this. Telemachas was already 12, well on her way to 13. All he had to do was keep his suitors at bay for 8 more years, then the princess would be allowed to ascend to the throne without any complaints from his adversaries. 

He could do this. He will find a way. For himself. For Telemachas. For Penelope. 

~

Odysseus didn’t notice the look one suitor in particular gave him from the moment he walked into the throne room. 

She couldn’t look away from his body; his tanned, lean, toned body. Oh, how his chiton stuck to his waist and showed off his fit figure. The way the fabric couldn’t cover his abs at a certain angle. The way one of his pecs was in full view, teasing the wonderfully flat mound of flesh that was begging to be bitten. 

He was beautiful. 

He was perfect. 

He was hers. 

Based on rumors circulating around the palace, it appeared that he planned to make his remarriage a difficult process for his suitors. 

That was fine.

She can be patient. No matter how long it took, she’d find a way to force him to accept her. After all, she was blessed by Zeus himself. Anything she wanted would belong to her.  

Ithaca. The Right Throne. Odysseus.

One day, all of it will bear her name. 

Calypso.

Memory Lane Part 2: Faded Scars

Characters focused on: King of Beasts!Leona Kingscholar & GN!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You're an innocent isekai victim... until you accidentally step on a cranky lion's tail.

Or: You wander into another world and meet reincarnations of cartoon villains (who were REAL and also your friends in a past life). Leona-centric chapter.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

The Queen of Hearts, the King of Beasts, the Sea Witch, the Tactician of the Sands, the Fairest Queen, the Ruler of the Underworld, and the Thorn Fairy.

Together, they're known as the Great Seven.

Or at least, that's what Ace had told you... right before him and Grim got collared for burning the Queen of Hearts's statue and you got arrested into having tea time with his boss.

Now, you're told that Riddle was the Queen of Hearts in a past life. According to him, her powers and memories had been passed down the previous rulers of the Queendom of Roses and that he was the current inheritor, thus making him the current ruler of the kingdom (queendom?).

Or at least, that's what you got from his long-winded spiel. He had explained it with a sort of manic, frantic look in his eyes that made you fear he might actually behead you after all, which then died down into a sort of defeated acceptance when you only nodded and smiled at his rambling. The disappointment on his face made that fresh feeling of unexplained belonging twist in your chest, but what in the world were you supposed to say to all that?

Oh that's so cool that you have the memories and powers of a controlling, temperamental tyrant! Based on how you're so uptight and everybody shivers at the sound of your name I'm sure it didn't affect you negatively in any way! Let's totally be friends like we used to be in a past life! Sure, why not! ?

That was another thing you can't quite wrap your head around. He knew you? In a past life? Or at least, the Queen of Hearts did? And you were some sort of "Beast Tamer" that was the only person that the Great Seven listened to?

Oh yeah, as it turns out, Riddle isn't the only one with the memories and powers of an evil fairytale villain. There are others like him, and apparently one of them was here at the Castle of Roses.

"This is a very puzzling situation," Riddle had sighed as you stuffed your face with more desserts in an effort to drown out how much of a stranger you suddenly felt in your own body. The queen sitting across from you had his brow tightly knitted in an intense expression, deep in thought. "I can sense that your essence is theirs, just like all the others, so you should be able to remember. For the past hundreds of years, we've never had a problem like this before. Everyone's always been able to access their past memories just fine..."

He had trailed off and you paused in the middle of taking a bite out of another cupcake (why are these desserts so good?!) at the sudden silence. His gaze was still really far away, as if he was watching an intense drama unfold instead of the untouched strawberry tart in front of him.

He blinks and suddenly he's back to fairytale earth. The crease in his brow disappears as he looks back up at you and you can practically see the light bulb go off above his head.

"Maybe... we can use something to jog your memory."

That's how you're here, standing in the sweet-smelling garden and face-to-face with another thing in this world that wants to kill you.

If you really were a "beast tamer" in a past life, you must've really sucked at it. Or maybe you just didn't inherit the beast-taming abilities like you didn't inherit the memories, which was just your luck.

You don't really believe anything that Riddle had said about you being some sort influential figure like the Seven (except for what he said about your past self having a knack for getting into danger, which you don't doubt a single bit) but right now, as you're staring down a cranky lion man, you really hope he was somewhat right.

"You've got some nerve stepping on my tail and just walking away," the man/lion/furry growls. His mussed dark hair falls over his eyes messily, but you're still able to spot a scar over his left eye. On top of his head are a pair of furry ears, stiffly folded back in irritation. When he talks, you catch a glimpse of inhuman canines in his mouth. "Ain't nothin' worse than bein' in the middle of a nap and havin' some jerk step on your tail."

"As we might have it, the inheritor of the King of Beasts is here at this very castle." you recall Riddle saying, followed by an irritated sigh. "Not that I have any idea where he is... he's always slacking off who-knows-where and has his retainers running around doing chores for him. We must find him. I'll have some of my card soldiers looking as well. He's hard to miss: he's a lion beastman with dark hair and a scar on his eye."

Ears, tail, a head of luscious dark locks, and a scar...

You hadn't put it together before, but in hindsight, you really should've been able to figure it out before you stepped on Scar from the Lion King 's tail. Not that it'd have increased your chances of survival.

"Sorry—! Um, your majesty...?" He was a king, right? But— Wait, Scar wasn't the king in the movie. That was literally the whole plot... you think. You can't really remember. Even if you did, that knowledge would only be useful if the fairytales you knew actually did align with the history of this world. Wait... the Lion King isn't a fairytale! …Or is it?

The lion man is still glaring at you. You pull your mind back into the moment and try to instead think of ways to not get eaten.

...Would it count as cannibalism? Agh, question for another time!

"I wouldn't know anything about having a tail but uh, I'm sure it's not fun to get it stepped on," you stammer with a forced polite smile that you hope looks apologetic, or at least pathetic enough that he'd consider you not worth snacking on. "I'm really, really sorry. I really didn't mean to disturb your nap! But it's actually good that you're awake. The queen's looking for you, soooo..."

"Hey." You flinch at his sharp tone and your back springs up straight. Your blood turns cold with fear as you feel him examine you closely before he speaks again, "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."

You're not eager to get up-close and personal with his sharp-looking teeth, so you do the smart thing and look up.

His eyes are green (just like the cartoon lion) with slitted pupils, like a cat's. Having never seen such a thing on a human face before, you find yourself transfixed... and then blinded.

The lion man's eyes go wide before he blinks and they suddenly start glowing a bright yellow. You squint your eyes against the light but you don't look away.

The same thing had happened with Riddle earlier when you met him. You hadn't been looking as closely then as you were too busy trying to control your erratic heart rate, but it's hard to miss when someone's eyes change from grey to red.

Just like Riddle's did, the glow in the lion man's eyes fade as suddenly as they had appeared and you're looking at a pair of green eyes again. You think his pupils go round (just like a cat's do!) but you don't have time to be sure as you're suddenly being shoved under an arm and against a hard chest as the lion man throws his head back with a loud laugh.

"Of all the herbivores!" he exclaims boisterously, a stark contrast to his drowsy anger earlier. He practically squeezes the breath out of you and you wheeze weakly.

As you're suffocated to death, your life flashes before your eyes. You see green eyes, dark hair, a scar… Wait, this just happened, didn't it?

There's a lion in front of you. A massive, full-grown lion with a mane of dark hair and a conniving smirk. For whatever reason, you don't run, and that proves to be a mistake when the lion suddenly climbs into your lap and curls up on top of you even as you scream and shove at him. You feel his chest rumble with a laugh when you give up struggling and flop back defeatedly.

You blink and your vision focuses back on a man lion instead of an actual one. The one that was actually holding you down and under an arm instead of a massive furry body. There's a very obvious difference, but you swear the smirk on his face is the exact same, eyes, scar, canines and all.

"Finally decided to show your face, huh?" the lion man chides. You only keep staring at him. You can't move even though you want to. Like with Riddle, your body suddenly feels like it has a mind of its own and your actual mind is telling you things that don't make sense but feel like they should .

The silence between the two of you turn awkward when you continue to let yourself be dragged around like a limp doll. The lion man's expression shifts drastically from a friendly one to one of shock and you almost fall on your butt when he suddenly pushes you away.

"Ugh, I hate it when that happens…" he growls. He's turned away from you, but it's obvious from the sound of his voice that he isn't only exasperated but also embarrassed.

That makes two of you.

"I don't know what that was but I do know it was super weird," you say with a shrug. Lion Man whirls around to level you with another glare, but unlike earlier, you don't flinch. You know he's not going to pounce. Not actually.

"That never happened," he snarls. He steps into your space and you can feel his hostility, but all it does is make you defiant (You mourn the loss of your self-preservation instincts, but hey, at least you're not trembling like a newborn kitten). Lion Man points his index finger at your chest and you can feel his claw-like nails through your shirt. "We're not friends , alright? Just 'cause you used to be chummy with Scar, doesn't mean we're going to be all buddy-buddy, got it?"

He aggressively jabs your chest at each emphasis and you almost stumble off your feet. You mirror his glare and shove his hand away by the wrist.

"You don't have to get your fur all fluffed up," you scoff and a low growl rises in his throat, but you're not dissuaded. "It's not like I want to be pals with you either."

"Great," Lion Man huffs, turning away. "I'm in a bad mood on account of bein' woken up from my nap, so unless you feel like losing a tooth, scram."

You're just about to bite back your assent when a voice suddenly calls back from across the garden.

"Leonaaaa!"

Lion Man curses under his breath. You hear footsteps approach the two of you, and a scruffy-looking man (? He's so small and scrawny that he could be a boy for all you knew.) appears down the path. He has animal ears and a tail too, but his ears are bigger and fluffier and so is his tail.

If Lion Man is supposed to be Scar, then could this guy be a hyena?

"Leona! There you are!" he says with a wide, relieved grin. You'd assumed he was one of the card soldiers, but with a closer look, you realise he isn't at all dressed like one. "I knew I'd find you here."

"Ugh, and now I've got this guy on my tail..." Leona groans, turning his irritation onto the new stranger now. "What is it, Ruggie?"

"Riddle's lookin' for ya," the hyena boy—Ruggie—replies without missing a beat despite the deadly glare trained on him. "Says it's important inheritor business. He's even got the guards looking."

"Inheritor business, huh." Leona's ears rise at that and he glances at you over his shoulder. "Wonder what about."

"Beats me." Ruggie shrugs as he crosses his hands behind his head. "But you should probably go see him before he boils over."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," Leona says gruffly as he stretches out his back and limbs. "I don't feel like gettin' collared today. I'll go see what he wants."

Before he leaves though, he turns to you, but instead of looking angry, he looks thoughtful this time. Riddle had had a similar expression earlier, where it seemed as if he was looking at something that wasn't actually there. Not in the present at least.

"I'm guessin' you're comin', huh," Leona sighs, sounding put-upon, and walks past Ruggie towards the end of the garden. He waves a dismissive hand in the air as he says, "Just remember what I said. I'm not waitin' up for you, and don't expect me to."

You roll your eyes at his back before walking after him with Ruggie tailing behind you (probably to make sure Leona actually makes it to Riddle). Leona is far ahead at this point so you could be wrong, but you think you catch the quietest little chuckle from him.

It's been a rough day for me, I figure it may be a rough day for y'all. Please enjoy this picture of my idiot cats.

Memory Lane Part 1: Riddled Mind

Characters focused on: Queen of Hearts!Riddle Rosehearts & GN!Reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: You're just an innocent isekai victim who got kidnapped by magic. If that wasn't weird enough, you somehow catch the eye of Riddle Rosehearts, the Queen of Hearts. After being ordered to have tea with him, you make a discovery that somehow makes a lot less sense than everything else you've been exposed to so far.

Or: You wander into another world and meet reincarnations of cartoon villains (who were REAL and also your friends in a past life). Riddle-centric chapter.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

The room is so silent that you can hear the  sound of your calm heartbeat and even Riddle's breath from across the table. When you take another sip of your tea, the clink of the cup on the saucer is almost deafening. Even if you hadn't been watching him, you wouldn't have missed the way Riddle's eyes track the cup and the expressions on your face.

At this point, despite however many times you've wiped your face, you're convinced there's a stain or something that has him so fixated on staring at you. Or maybe it was just your horrendous table manners—the moment you sat down you had practically inhaled all the food on the table after all—but you're pretty sure that staring is pretty rude too, and if it mattered as much to you as it likely does to him, you would've called him out on it. Who knows, maybe staring at people is another one of his crazy rules. You don't feel like getting yelled at so you don't try to find out.

The air has been so still and silent that you jump in your seat when Riddle finally speaks.

"The food is to your liking."

His tone is unreadable. His expression is even more so with half of his face hidden behind his threaded fingers. His grey eyes remain trained on you. You're sure you would've been unnerved already if he didn't have such a soft-looking face.

Despite his steady voice though, you identify a slight lilt at the end of his sentence, as if he was asking a question.

You unconsciously raise a questioning brow mostly to yourself, completely unsure how to respond in a way he'd find acceptable. You take too long thinking and in an attempt to save face you bob your head in some semblance of a nod, to which Riddle's gaze expectedly hardens.

"When I ask you a question, you always reply with either yes, your majesty, or no, your majesty ."

His tone is cold and curt and he's straightened up in his seat, the very picture of authority. Despite his stern gaze though, you find yourself more irritated than afraid or flustered. This must show on your face, judging from the way the queen's eyes widen and his stiff shoulders falter ever-so-slightly.

"Do you want me to curtsy too?" you quip back, and without waiting for an answer, your chair is kicked back with an ugly squeal and you're standing and dipping at the waist with your hands raised in a mocking curtsy. "Why yes, your majestyyyy! The tea cakes were absolutely diviiiine."

You muster the most obnoxious, posh accent possible and enunciate each word with exaggeration. By the time you realize what you're doing, the words have already left your mouth and Riddle is leaned back in his chair with an expression of disbelief on his face. You pull up your own chair and sit back down awkwardly, more than a little mortified at yourself.

Were you even thinking, genius?!

Just. You're not sure where it even came from. You can be a bit impulsive sometimes—a complete idiot a lot of other times—but you never sass someone you just met , let alone a ticking time bomb of a queen who could and would literally behead you at the slightest offense (not to mention it was just plain rude). But what's stranger is that you would be more worried about the threat of disembodiment if you weren't so fixated on that sudden burst of... something ; a strange, overwhelming feeling of familiarity in your body that has you feeling loose and careless. It suddenly feels as if you were sitting with a close friend instead of having tea with a tyrant.

You're pulled from your thoughts by a sudden, high-pitched sound that once again has you looking up at the man sitting across from you. Riddle's shoulders are shaking, and he's bent over and... laughing?

"Oh, you really are the same as they were back then," he says as his giggles die off. He opens his eyes and where there used to be a building grey storm are now a gleaming silvery mirth. His lips are curled into a soft, dainty smile that lifts his cheeks. Looking at him like this, there's no better word to describe him with than… cute . "I was beginning to have doubts, but your demeanor is exactly like what I've seen of them in her memories."

When you met him a few hours ago, you never expected to see such a fond (?!) expression on his face. More unexpectedly is that, despite his reputation for being strict and temperamental (that you yourself have seen first hand), it doesn't feel out of place.

In your mind's eye, you suddenly see an image of an imposing woman donning a massive gown of red and black. A wide smile was stretched across her plump face as she sang songs and clinked teacups with rabbits and cats.

You blink it away, suddenly feeling lightheaded. When you look at Riddle, you feel... different. Out of nowhere, you're overcome by a sense of deja vu just like when you first set foot on the castle grounds with Grim, Ace, and Deuce. It was as if your mind was trying to point out something obvious to you that you can't quite grasp long enough to pin down.

It's not like it was a bad feeling, though. Frustrating, yeah, but not bad. Riddle is still smiling at you, so you suppose it's just a given that a sweeter expression on his face would put you more at ease.

"Sorry, who?" you blurt out and then blink again in an attempt to regain your bearings. "I mean—your majesty...?"

Riddle laughs a bit more into his hand. His smile is wide, thick eyelashes fluttering with each blink just like— and a feeling of genuine relieved warmth eases through your tense limbs unprompted.

"Who else could I mean?" he says in a teasing tone. "You, of course; before you were you."

You blink for the nth time in an attempt to clear your head, unsure if your brain is too muddled or if he was spouting some more Wonderland-brand nonsense.

Seeing your confusion, Riddle clarifies.

"Your past life?" You look at him blankly. His smile turns down into a quizzical frown. "You know... when you were the Beast Tamer?"

You... do not know.

You stare at him cluelessly, your jaw slack. As he stares back with a mirroring bewildered expression, you can only think of one thing to say:

"...That's not a Disney movie."

this is a collab comic between me and the incredible elien! adapted from (with an additional scene) iamsomebody’s fic, nothing else to compare. special thanks to @wellthengetouttathesoupaisle for all the proofreading <3

there’s a lot more to the comic! you can read the full 26 page comic here (plus some bonus content) for free (tips appreciated!)

more rambling under the cut.

Keep reading

got empires on my mind <3

Okay another stupid Waking up in PJO thought because I want validation and my TikTok’s aren’t doing well

You wanna know when Percy realized he had feelings for you?

Percy’s never really been the type of person to have friends. He thinks he might have, if he was a bit smarter and he knew the right things to say. He’s friendly enough with the other boys, but it’s not friendship, not really.

Then he meets Grover, and the world feels a little brighter. Like the bleak gray fog he’s been trudging through has finally begun to lift, and it’s still dark and wet and gray, but there’s some sunshine now too.

Then he gets attacked by hit math teacher, and he feels like the few people he could trust are gone from him. But at least he has his mom.

A boy with hooves for feet. I Minotaur. A camera ripped to shreds. A boy with no mother. An orphan.

He’s pretty sure he’s dead. He’s never been the type to win in anything, and when he finally makes it out of the darkness, he sees someone so beautiful he forgets how to breathe. You’re feeding him something, it tastes like chocolate chips. And you promise that his mom is okay, she’s just somewhere else right now, and that you’ll help him find her.

That he’s not alone.

And when he wakes up from the dream, everyone seems to want something from him. Answers or talent or friendship or a quest.

Even his father, who could never bother to send a lousy child support check, wants him to clear his name.

Everyone wants something from him.

Except for you.

You don’t want anything from him when you sit across from him at his empty table. “You know you could have told me you were old seaweeds kid.” and then you go on some long tirade about how the gods want you to risk your life but they won’t even indulge you in a little cola.

You’ve got tons of friends, the fact that even Clarisse softens around you is sign enough that you’re well liked. You don’t need his friendship. And from the sounds of it you’ve been on plenty of quests, earning your glory, the pride and joy of your father. Your father, Hades, a great legacy in his own right.

You don’t need him for anything.

So the fact that you’re here right now, trying to make him feel better, is just because you saw someone who felt alone and extended your hand in kindness.

And Percy knows right then and there that even if all the stories about Hades are true, that he’s the greatest villain of this era, and you’re his favorite pawn, that he’ll tie his ship to your dock.

“If you’re going to die might as well go down having Faygo right?”

You scoff. “Faygo? You’ve got awful taste Percy Jackson.”

And that is the beginning of the end.

Deeply fucking unsettling things about the Honored One himself, Satoru Gojo

Thanks to his ability to fuck with gravity, you put him in a blank, empty room with identical walls, floor, and ceiling with no doors or windows, he'll quickly lose track of which way is up. Realistically this situation would probably never happen, but the concept freaks him out ever since Geto made a joke about it once.

Gojo's body maintains a perfect thermodynamic equilibrium, making his skin creepily cool to the touch. He can go out in a blizzard with shorts on, and between that and Infinity, he'd be perfectly fine. It makes for a cool party trick, because he can stick his hand in a candle flame or put cigarettes out on his arms with no ill effects.

He's unsettlingly clean at all times, because dirt can't touch him. Gojo hasn't needed to use stain remover on his uniform in years.

He quite literally has six eyes. He keeps four of them shut and all of them hidden most of the time, though, because a) looking into all six at once would liquefy the brain of your average human, and b) his Six Eyes are constantly feeding unfathomable amounts of information into his brain every second. Even with his tolerance to his powers and mastery of the reverse curse technique, there's only so much stimuli a human brain can process without completely shutting down, and Gojo doesn't want to find out what that'll do to him--in a nutshell, just because he can see things that mankind can't even hope to comprehend doesn't mean he wants to.

He can perceive the entire electromagnetic spectrum, meaning he can see shrimp colors. Everyone else desperately wants him to describe the shrimp colors. Gojo continues to smugly refuse.

Because of his reverse curse technique constantly refreshing and regenerating his body, he just. doesn't really need to eat anymore. or drink. or even breathe. His body is basically frozen at peak physical condition, and it's very likely that he is functionally immortal.

Sometimes, Gojo forgets what pain feels like, because nothing can touch him. Pain feels almost like pleasure to him, because nothing can hurt him. Nothing can even touch him, and Gojo has secretly developed a perverted interest in seeing how badly he can mutilate himself before he's forced to reengage his technique and heal.

Gojo can bend and contort himself in ways that aren't humanly possible, run faster and farther and lift heavier objects than anyone alive, because his body can repair itself almost as fast as it's damaged, depending on how severe the injury. Basically, he has permanent hysterical strength, letting him push his body past its limits to perform feats that would kill a normal human with no ill effects.

Gojo doesn't sleep. He literally can't unless he releases his technique, because his body is constantly being refreshed and doesn't need to shut down. Oh well, it's for the better. He's most vulnerable while he's sleeping anyway, and it opens up his schedule by a lot.

His teeth grow now, almost like a rodent's. He has to file them down to be able to open and close his mouth properly, along with much more frequent trimming of his hair and nails.

His skin is oddly smooth, and unnaturally pristine. Gojo hasn't recieved a single scar since Toji sliced him open, and all the ones he'd recieved before are healed flawlessly at this point. His hands are so soft they make it look like he hasn't fought a day in his life, because calluses aren't able to form anymore.

Gojo's been around the world countless times now. He can go wherever he wants with a thought; the only cost is his sanity. Warping himself across the Pacific for lunch in San Francisco is fun, but he can only do it a few times a week if he doesn't want to have another... ah, episode.

These episodes involve blackouts, gaps in his memory where his powers manage to slip their leashes from overuse and literally short-circuit his brain. He's only had a few so far, and every time, he wakes up in the infirmary completely unscathed, with blood all over his clothes and an awful fucking migraine. Nobody knows what happens or where he goes, and all Shoko's been able to tell him is that when it happens, he seems to go into a giddy fugue before blasting his way out of the compound and vanishing for anywhere from days to weeks. Gojo's absolutely terrified of these episodes, because he's wholly aware that if he lost it for real, nobody would be able to stop him.

He looks human enough, but if you look closer, he quickly starts to set off the uncanny valley effect. It's like a wolf in sheep's clothing--because you know how dangerous he is, even though he appears relatively harmless at first. Everyone who meets him has the same fear response clawing at the back of their mind as their hindbrain screams at them to fucking run, because Gojo is an apex predator in the body of a prey animal. His very presence awakens primal fear that's been entrenched in every human since the dawn of time--the fear of things that go bump in the night, of cosmic horrors beyond what mankind can even hope to comprehend.

His eyes glow all the time now, and the energy crackling in the air around him feels like the static that comes before a lightning strike. Satoru Gojo is insistent that he's still human even though he's the strongest, but... is he, really?

Backwards reflection

Summary: Coriolanus deals wiht the war inside his head. You might be too alike after all, but maybe that's why you need each other. Facing the ugly sides is a mirror you have grown to love.

Pairing: Sub!Coriolanus Snow x Dom!reader

Warnings: Coriolanus and reader (edge lords who are a bit fucked in the head), angst, making out, fighting, lots of inner angst and bad emotions for both parties, brief fight, kissing, technically some nudity(nothing happens just touch starvation)

A/N: this tired me out emotionally and physically but I live making this man pathetic. Part three will include smut.(finally)

Word count: 3.2k

[Part 1] [Masterlist]

Coriolanus Snow who never acted out after the incident. Sure there were times where your behavior got on his nerves but you'd grown familiar with his responses and moods so you soothed his anger with a loving touch and he as always gave in.

Coriolanus Snow who had never realized how good it felt to be spoiled. He had never allowed himself the thought of relinquishing his control in any way to someone, it was all he had during the harder days. But with you here? Sure you hadnt given him much of a choice in the beginning, but you cared for him in the transactional way he did for you.

You loved each other the only way you could, and most days that was enough.

Most of his time was still spent juggling the Academy and keeping his reputation pristine but there was no need to be as obsessed with it as before. He'd give himself a breather sit and smell the roses(literaly). He'd sit in parks and indulge in using the lavish Capitol public transport with the card you'd given him. He discovers how limited his world has been, it hadn't occurred to him to think about the spaces inbetween the Academy and his home. He visits parks and gardens, cafes and restaurants. He meets a lot of his classmates outside of school, albeit it involuntarily, but still he indulges in their company now that the look of their inherited riches doesn't make him sick. He strengthens his bonds and positions. He feels good.

☆Coriolanus Snow who enjoys life under your thumb. You are aware of everything he does, who he meets and where he goes, what he buys. He never asks from where you get your information, you never answer anyways. He is behaving himself for now, so you alow him to roam freely but both of you know you'll clip his wings faster than he could comprehend if it came down to it.

☆Coriolanus Snow who spends most of his free time with you. At first it felt obligatory to be seen with you but now seeing you, talking with you, eating praise at the palm of your hand it felt like second nature.

You'd attend parties together, matching clothes in reds and whites. At first you'd allowed for his tailored clothes to show the symbol of his family but slowly you'd started to incorporate the crest of your family on it instead. Soon enough he was walking around branded as yours.

☆Coriolanus Snow who on good days felt triumphant, like he had won the lottery with this deal. Who would beam at you as you'd eat in some fancy restaurant, intertwining your hands together and going as far as to feed you from his plate if he deemed the dish so good.

☆Coriolanus who nuzzles his cheek into yours and the tip of his cold nose brushed yours and he laughed. A pure and beautiful sound you don't hear too often, you'd buy it if you could, alas it was too priceless.

☆Coriolanus who viewed you as his in his own way. You had become the center of his universe(on purpose) and he enjoyed it. Always having a gentle soft hand on your lower back, not so much guiding you but holding onto you. Coriolanus who held you tightly on the new matress you'd bough together as a form of shopping date, like you were his personal stuffed toy. You wouldn't admit you enjoyed it. But you did.

☆Coriolanus Snow who on good days relishes into the feeling of being known wholly and still accepted. Who enjoyed walking around without the weight of a bravado or mask. Coriolanus Snow who loved you without fear.

✹Coriolanus Snow who on bad days lived in constant fear that he wouldn't live up to the transaction and you'd leave him. He'd seen hiw fast you cut other people, how fast and with no warning you left him when he stepped out of line.

He comforts himself with the thought that you'd spent way too much money on him to just dump him out of the blue, as long as he behaved. That you could fix him, mend him, shape him however you liked and he'd let you. He'd let you shatter him if it meant you'd continue to (love) support him.

✹Coriolanus Snow who on bad days would study and work hard even harder than before. A part of him hated hiw easily he had slipped into your trap. How vulnerable to your whims hr had become, how dependent he was. He was scared you'd pull the rug and all would fall apart underneath him, his last chance at a future outside of poverty.

His whole demeanor would be off and you could tell immediately that it was one of his bad days even before he answered your daily calls on the phone you bought him. When he got into his fits of studying out of misery he became almost unreachable, he knew you were the one calling. I mean, no one else could call him.

He'd answer eventually and you'd invite hik to dinner in your house. Sometimes when he really had to study for a test you wouldn't force him to come, you still wanted him to actually have good grades, its among the things you like most about him. But now you know by the tiredness and lack of emotion in his short answers that he was simply not in a good place.

And he'd come at the designated hour, politely knock and make small talk with your parents. They weren't fully aware of your deal, they could see the indent of the money in your bank account but also it was money they had given to you to use however you liked so they didn't ask too much questions. If all of you started poking your nose in each other's business your family would fall apart.

Your parents liked Coriolanus, that meant they didn't mind you spending time with him or spending money on him. They also didn't mind it when you excuse the both of you from dinner in the grand hall and lead Coriolanus up to your room where a small feast was organized.

You'd walk ahead even if Coriolanus knew the path by heart, he spent a lot of time here. While his apartment had gotten a few renovations it was still showing all the signs of his finances demise, how he truly didn't belong in the world he was trying to be in. His envy and pride had kept him going blindly for uears to come, it's not like he had much choice. It was that or giving up and letting all the two people he cared about die with him.

In all his years he hadn't allowed himself to stop, to weaver, to be shaken for long from his future position, almost like it was promised to him. His circumstances didn't allow for anything else. Now he had too much time to sit with his own thoughts. Too much time to reminiscent about how much he had taken from Tigris'es youth, to notice how old grandma'am had become. How fragile his little world was.

Coriolanus'es heavy monotony steps echo behind you, you walk with your chin high and fight the urge to turn around to look at him. You know he is there. But you still want to see if he is with you, or lost in his own self made prison by your doing.

You reach your room and Coriolanus goes to open it by muscle memory. His gaze is still unfocused and far away and the thin layer of skin around his eyes seems worn out and raw. It makes something stir inside you, anger. He is wearing one of the cotton shirts you had given him, plain and simple with some blue pants that reached hus ankles. The necklace you'd given him for your first supposed "anniversary" sat prettily on his collarbone. It was a simple rose gold chain with a small pendant of your family's crest: the version was simplified but the branches of the walnut trees that made up a circular frame and the small image of lion stood proudly in its middle, teeth bared. The chain wasn't long, and it made it accidentally(completely on purpose) seem like a collar. The sight puts you a bit at ease.

You both enter your spacious room, it smells faintly of the perfume you wear. On the large bed lay multiple trays with lavish dishes all unique, with different protein or no protein, depending on what the both of you would prefer. Corio rarely would turn up his nose at something, for reasons that were never spoken but understood. You watched him suffer through a bean based dish once and decided not to do it again.

Usually by this point the sight and smell of your signature scent, the warmth of your room and the aroma of food would calm his mind and bring some light back into him, but today he seemed too far gone.

Even as you both sat on the bed, the matress dipping under your weight, he ate a few bites and most of the time simply keep his gaze occupied with something else. It made some sort of anger rise in you. You tell you're you are angry because he isn't cooperating, that you've spent so much on him and he doesn't enjoy it, that he is being selfish. The soft metal of your fork seems entirely too bendable in your tight fist. You tell yourself you hate it when he isn't acting like you want him too, it's not being you hate your own powerlessness, that you can't fix this by throwing money. You could lie, but you don't.

The whirling of emotions claw its way from your gut through your lungs and throat, where it begs to be released in harsh words and imbalanced actions. Your mind grows dull of reason and your tongue sharpens. But you are better than this. You have self control. You have the control.

"I have not poisnoned the food, no need to check it."

You bite out as coldly as you can, if you don't you might burn him with your own powerlessness. His gaze momentarily shifts upwards and to you, his eyes have a yellowing touch to them and the veins are prominant and red, eyes glassy hopefully from reading and writting for so long.

"I never thought you had."

"Is there another reason you arent eating then? Perhaps the food is not up to par?"

You can hear the barely hidden venom in your voice. He can hear it too. The air feels tense and almost weavers as you both look at each other. Corio as always reads you as well as you read him and quickly becomes defensive from his own powerlessness.

"The food is lovely."

He spats back at you with a forced angry smile. This was it. You were getting tired of him and his leaching off of you. The same way the charm of a Christmas puppy would wear off after a month or two so had his own twisted charisma. He would be thrown out in the cold and left to starve, quite literally like a dog. The betrayal made his chest flare up, it set something ablaze.

Both of you stand there the embodiment of pride as all can be heard is the faint sound of the ambient music from downstairs piano and the sound of both of your breathing. That and the blood rushing through your ears. Both of you stoically and pridefully guard their response and face, force of habit from the years of play pretend.

This was the hard thing about this comrades, deal, relationship of yours, you were the same. This puzzle pieces etched from the same wood that fit together in a way no one else could. But once theatching ugly sides were facing you couldn't even be close.

His brows scrunch firtger together and he seems to be loosing the inner fight with his head just as you are. Emotions got the best of him. The best of you.

So you pulled him by the chain and smashed your lips against his.

The unspoken argument was still hot on his lips but so were your own as then mended together. His lips were as soft as you had imagined on one occasion. At first he didn't respond, not expecting for you to allow him to stay. He thought you'd finally force him to leave.

His lack of response doesn't stop you, you double down and place your hands on either side of his jaw, digging your short manicured nails into the warm flesh under where his ear and jaw meet. You were going to keep him here with you, not his stupid head, not his hatred and fear, not inside the prison of his mind, with you.

It seemed to snap Coriolanus back to life. In a flash his eyes close and his lips move against yours, the kiss is slow but very raw. His teeth brush against yours and his lips redden and glisten as they dance with yours. It's not a fight for dominance like you'd expect, it feels like you are trying to consume each other until you are one. His hands dig into the cotton material of your house clothes. They lacked the usual designer brand and rich material you usually sported, it made him feel a bit better, it made you feel barer.

His nails dig crescents into the skin of your lower back, his warm hands had found their anchor underneath your shirt and on your body.

You were warm, so so warm. And he felt like he was dying of the cold, in his apartment, in his bed, in his body. He felt cold. He wanted to be warmed by you, that's all he wanted.

You take a step closer and now your clotyed chest is against his, your hands have found their way in his hair and his own are resting in a tight embrace on your back underneath the cloth. You pull off of the kiss breathless and a bit hazy minded, you'd never done that before and judging by the disheveled boy woth dilated eyes and lips redden by your chapstick he was feeling the effect of making out for the first time.

It proved more addicting than you had expected and after quickly putting the trays with almsot untouched food on your vanity you quickly crawl on the bed to continue. It was head-spinning and electric, it made your body shiver as you got lost in it. Maybe a more rational part of you would have done things differently, made you the seductress, made you the one in control, but your hormones were raging and Coriolanus was kissing you like he's trying to fry his brain up and fill the black hole in his chest. You couldn't pull away, it felt like all the barriers set up by society, yourself, your image and even the physical form were blurring and evaporating, especially as Coriolanus's lips trailed lower and kissed and nipped at your jaw and neck.

The movements were desperate, like he was trying to crawl in your skin. You weren't much better as your hands skimmed up and down his back, underneath the layers to feel his hot back, he felt like a furnace against you.

"Coriolan-"

"Corio, please call me Corio"

He muttered into your neck, his body weight was almost fully on you, only held up by his knees on either side of your hips and one hand that squished the pillow next to your head. It made your brain go quiet for a few seconds but you didn't want that. This was all going wrong. You are supposed to be in control.

So you grab him by the neck, you nails leave pink marks on the sides of the sweaty flesh and you make him look in your eyes and stop lavishing your neck.

"Who do you belong to, Corio?"

Your voice didn't carry the same steelness to it as ususal but it came out as a threats hiss and that was enough for you. At first he didn't react his wide pupils made his eyes seem almost black. Then he opens his mouth and wrapped his lips around words he couldn't stomach before.

"Im yours, Im yours, y/n. Let me be yours, please"

It's whiny and desperate, a bit tearfully if you listened closely. It soothes something deep inside of you but your expression doesn't let up, scrunching into an deadly grimace, the hand at his neck tightens until you can feel his thriving heartbeat against your palm.

"If you think there is some way for you to escape from me you are wrong. No one can help you, no man, no woman. You are mine, and you will like it"

You gritt out and you can feel a vein pop on your face as you stare unforgiving at him, as if it will drill it in his head and keep him happy. Because you wanted him happy.

His lips are half open and his eyes are doe wide, maybe it's the fact this sick proclamation soothes him, or maybe it's the fact he sees the weakness inside of you that makes him feel better. He doesn't know. He hasn't been thinking straight since he crawled on your bed. He leans down and a stray curl of his blond hair coiled and brushed against your forearm. His lips meet with your wrist and he places such a delicate kiss there you almost believe he cares about you. It halts your bravado and gives him enough time to lift his gaze you and look at you through his lashes.

"You are all that matteres to me. You are everything that i have. Let me be yours."

He says and drops his hand down so his forehead lays at the back of your hand. His words and the shock from there seeming sincerely makes your hold loosen. His lips are at your knuckles and he holds your smaller hand in both of his like he is praying at deity. For all he cares, you are his religion and sacred salvation. The closest his soul will get to accending is when he is pressed so tightly against you he confuses what is his and what is yours.

"i love you the only way i know how to. I'll make it be enough for you. Ill be enough for you."

You don't know what to say. No response cokes and you are scare of what will come.ojt even if it did. You have no words for hik to soothe his longing, you don't know how. Your armor stands shining as he bears himself for you.

You press your lips to the crown of his head and keep them there, you envelope his head in your hands and bring him back to you. He eagerly let's you move him as you like and when he rests his head against your now bare chest It makes something click in his brain. He takes off his won shirt and lays back down with you.

You can't say if he simply clinging to you or the otger way around. All you know is that you feel warm. You feel good. The cold ess is gone and you are here with him. With Corio, with your Corio who you love, you don't know how or where to even begin to understand this twisted version of something supposedly innocent. All you know is you belong with him.

He belongs to you. He isn't going anywhere and judging by how comfortable he is underneath your heavy duvet and in your arms, nestled on the warm skin of your chest, he doesn't plan on going anywhere either.

In the end you got what you want.

Coriolanus wanted you willingly, even if this wasn't the path you thought it would take.

Doesn't matter, you always won in the end. Right?

(Im gonna make them both suffer yall)