he was just so magnificently evil

feujenny  asked:

You asked for this, Teru-san, you did! XD Hanamiya, Midorima and Murasakibara heavily drugged from wisdom tooth removal, interacting with their s/o. I know we're all gonna love this! 8D

And this is how I dig my own grave. (T ‿ T) Well then. For those who haven’t seen it, I wrote this prompt for Kagami and Aomine before. Here’s the same thing for Murasakibara, Hanamiya, and Midorima

“Nnnnn, Chibi-chinnn, do you thinnnnk that if Okamura dies, his sideburns will crawl off his face and innnnvade someone else’s? I don’t wannnnna be the victim.” 

Murasakibara tilted his head, intending to rest it on top of yours, but he only got as far as touching his own shoulder with his ear, with a long way down yet to your level. He realised his miscalculation and straightened up, supporting the back of his head on the wall behind him to stare at the ceiling with a dreamy smile. 

“Nnnnnnnn, but if it happens, I’ll protect you, Chibi-chinnn,” he promised with a serious nod. His cheeks were a cute shade of pink. He sighed happily, wrapped his long arm around you, and squeezed you to his side. “You’re so softy-squishy-squish. Nnnnn, squish-squish-squishy.” He giggled, accentuating each word by squeezing you a little more. “Squishy-squish.”

“Atsushi… air…” you wheezed. Murasakibara loosened his grip and pulled you into his lap instead, cuddling you and slowly rocking the both of you side-to-side while he hummed off-key. He nuzzled your hair and let out another happy sigh.

“Nmmmm, you smell sweet, Chibi-chin, I could eat you up,” he murmured. “Nnnnoooo… wait, wrong word. Hmmmmmmmm…” 

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andallthewildthingsroared  asked:

hey! i wanted to let you know that i think your cas/stages of grief meta was absolutely amazing. cas's story never really made sense to me, it always seemed so inconsistent, like they had no idea where they were going with it, and your meta is the first i've read that made me see some central theme in it after all. so kudos for that :) just out of curiosity, you have any idea where they're going with crowley? bc his story is another one that always felt the opposite of straightforward to me.

Whats your hope for Crowleys arc on this season?

Hi! Thank you so much for all that! I am the most awful person, because not only I’m like, two months late in answering this but I’m also going to bundle it up with an anon ask. Sorry, @andallthewildthingsroared!

(I did write the overly long thing I promised you, though, so there’s that.)

I understand where you’re coming from - Crowley’s arc is sort of zigzaggy, but if you take away what was clearly bad characterization (such as that one-off threat to Sam complete with red eyes which never went anywhere), I sort of feel like we can know who Crowley is, and what he wants.

Background

So, just as a summary - we know he was a bastard, and that he had a stable enough relationship with his mother that he remembers her (not fondly), and that she up and left soon enough that it felt like she was abandoning him (eight is a bit soon to fend for yourself, even in the seventeenth century). We know he had a son, and since Gavin’s mother is never mentioned, I want to say unremarkable entity who died in childbirth? Because if this had been his great love, and if she’d survived long enough to be remembered by Gavin, I hope to God that would have been brought up in the narrative (come on). So, either Crowley didn’t give a damn about her, and got saddled with the kid for some reason, or he cared a lot and she died pretty early on and that’s possibly the reason he started being so awful to everybody (hello, John Winchester’s parallels). We also know he was a tailor, which, in those times, and for an orphan, implies either that Rowena used magic to help him out (unlikely for a number of reasons) or that he was actually a very smart, very talented kid who had to work his ass off during his apprenticeship, as was usual for the times. In this case, we’ve got someone whose life was out of his control from a very young age, and who knows what it’s like to be at a master’s whim. 

Demon deal

Now, what doesn’t fit with this picture is the idea a kid like that would sell his soul for a longer dick, as Crowley boasted to have done (also, as amusing as it is, this would be a moot point by now, since Crowley’s in a different body). What I consider more likely is that Crowley’s current vessel - the literary agent in his late forties possibly all work and all play as that job often entails - tried to make a similar deal (and that would be a reason for Crowley to stick with the body afterwards; after all, we know he’s vain and likes to sleep around, so, vessel for vessel, why not go for a bigger dong?); as for Crowley himself, I really can’t guess what happened. Gavin remembers him as a useless drunkard, and he certainly had no riches to pass on - so much so, Gavin was forced to emigrate to the Colonies. What did Crowley gain, exactly, in exchange for his soul? An intriguing possibility is that, like Dean, he took the deal to save someone else - perhaps Gavin himself from some childhood fever - and became a drunk asshole out of blind panic the closer he got to the deadline. I like this explanation, because there was always this weird pull between Crowley and Dean, and this would go a long way towards explaining it; but, really, this is one of those things it’s useless to speculate about - either the show will tell us, or it won’t.

(Another possibility I like, but which would have come up by now, is that Rowena sold her kid’s soul to pay for her own magic - a plot bunny I explored here.)

Whatever his reasons, Crowley’s time in hell took this primal lack of control over his own life and made it a thousand times worse. We still don’t know, exactly, how demons are created, how long it takes, and who decides which eyes you’ll get, and which job you’ll do. This is, like, one of the 2000 things the show could get into instead of inventing new lore (I’m not complaining, though - S11 was magnificent, and S12 has been very good so far). What we do know is that the entire process is excruciatingly painful; that it distorts, or takes away, your human soul. If we think about other soulless creatures we’ve encountered, what Crowley is makes a lot of sense. It’s not about being evil, exactly; it’s more about a lack of caring and empathy. There are moments where Crowley actually reminds me of soulless!Sam - like when he pushed Dean into Cain’s arms just because it was convenient on the short term. 

Crowley the crossroads demon

Becoming a demon is also the worst kind of punishment, we should assume, because it completely takes away your free will.

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singokumaiden  asked:

For the character meme, Ieyasu Tokugawa of slbp

Send Me a Character

And I will tell you my:

  • First impression: I LIKE YOU ONLY WHEN I’M NOT DATING YOU, MY GOSH, I WANT TO KICK YOUR FACE
  • Impression now: Actually, it’s funny just how evil he is
  • Favorite moment: When he came to visit Yukkin’s MC to acknowledge that Yukimura is a truly magnificent samurai in Yuki’s sequel.
  • Idea for a story: He really likes to provoke Mitsuntsun because he’s jealous Mitsun is always idolizing Hideyoshi
    Childhood fic! Mini-Nobu and mini-Yasu playing together. They’re both still nice kids, no dark/emo/angst stuff yet, so it would be really cute <3 
  • Unpopular opinion: I kinda enjoy seeing the AU event in Tenka where he’s still a hostage with Imagawa Yoshimoto. Not because he’s the one getting bullied for once, but because I kinda like seeing Yoshimoto LOL. Yasu fans are usually angry at Yoshimoto, and non-fans don’t seem to care so… 
  • Favorite relationship: With the Baldy Tadatsugu LOL. It’s just so funny. Why do you even like to pull out people’s hair, like, literally pull them out.  
  • Favorite headcanon: Nothing in particular. Oh, I kinda like the headcanon that Yasuyasu prefers archery because he doesn’t like having to be close to people, even in battle (arrows = kill from a distance)
2015′s Most Stylish Movie Villains

While 2015 may have had more frightening or imposing villains (say ‘hi’ Immortan Joe!), I’d wager that baddies don’t come more stylish or aesthetically pleasing than this lot. And what is evil if it doesn’t take the time to present itself properly, eh?

5. General Hux, Star Wars: The Force Awakens

Black (or really, really, really dark grey, if you prefer) military gear has rarely looked as impeccable as it does on General Hux. While less ostentatious or glitzy than the other looks on this list, Hux’s wardrobe is striking on account of its polish and severity. And I can’t help but love that snazzy little cap of evil - it’s perfect for delivering the spittle-drenched Hitler First Order Youth revival speech.

Costume designer: Michael Kaplan

4. Lucille Sharpe, Crimson Peak

The costuming of Crimson Peak is as exquisite and morbid as the film itself. Lucille’s gowns are perfect metaphors for her corrupt, tortured soul, with the rich, mouldering fabrics of her dresses paralleling the decay of the titular ancestral pile. Gothic torment and psychological disintegration have never looked this good.

Costume designer: Kate Hawley

3. Victoria, The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Victoria is a real big cat of the villain, slinking around with absolute confidence and self-assurance. Her costumes are to die for, elegant while recalling the experimental edge of ’60s fashion. Period costuming can go for slavish faithfulness at the expense of imagination, and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. avoids that trap brilliantly by affording its arch villainess an appropriate but adventurous and diverse wardrobe.

Costume designer: Joanna Johnston

2. Stepmother, Cinderella

The costumes in Cinderella are some of the most exquisite creations ever committed to celluloid, and as much as I adore Cinderella’s butterfly dream gown (literal butterflies fly off it, people! It’s seriously like a Barbie I once had!) her stepmother’s wardrobe trumps it as a collective testament to her exquisite taste. The stepmother’s clothes are simply magnificent, and while she can justly be faulted for her character she is blameless when it comes to her sense of style.

Costume designer: Sandy Powell

1. Balem Abrasax, Jupiter Ascending

Who else could be in first place? While all of the villains of Jupiter Ascending have impeccable threads, no one in the film is more fabulously dressed than Balem Abrasax. He has not one, but two throat-covering collars embedded with planets and constellations. He has a flowing glitter cape designed to highlight his immaculate abs. He has Roman-esque bejewelled sandals. He has a punishingly tight rubber shirt. In short, his wardrobe has everything and IT IS GLORIOUS.

Costume designer: Kym Barrett

But those are just my thoughts. Are there any magnificently garbed villainous types I’m missing? 

nitavonteese  asked:

Hello! I just thought of a prompt I would love to read for the Her-verse. A naming ceremony for Merida, similar to Prince Neal. During the ceremony Regina confronts someone who questions her motherhood.

If you’ve not read any of “Her” verse, you can still read this, although it will make far more sense if you start from here. Many thanks to nitovonteese for the incredible prompt (I hope it lives up to your expectations) and to Jess, Kiki and Carissa for read-throughs and critical eyes. :)  

Happy Reading!


Her Name: 

“I don’t like this, Robin.”

There are too many people, too large a crowd, and far too many eyes watching their every move. She feels claustrophobic at Granny’s sometimes under normal circumstances, but today the diner is packed with wall-to-wall people, people pressed into booths and standing by the bar, even leaning against the walls as every chair is taken.

And they’re all staring at her.

Not just her, but also at the baby cradled to her chest whose springs of bright red hair swirl across the top of her head like wisps of autumn leaves feathering over fair skin. Her hair is magnificent—perfect in so many aspects—but Regina fears it will brand her in this town, that it will forever mark her as the child of a Wicked Witch hell-bent on revenge rather than the daughter of the most honorable man she’s ever known.  

An honorable man who had the misfortune to fall in love with the evil queen, essentially drawing a target on his chest that begged for retribution. Why he ever fell in love with her, she’ll never…

“It will be fine, Love,” Robin states, interrupting her train of self-depreciation just in time. He squeezes her shoulder and smiles down at the baby, his expression nearly breaking as it so often does when he gazes upon his daughter. He still harbors guilt over the entire situation—over how she was conceived, how he had wished she’d never existed, how he detested her birth mother, how he’d wounded Regina the day she’d found out about Zelena’s pregnancy and at each subsequent ultrasound—guilt that she wishes he’d lay down once and for all, knowing all too well just how crippling shame can be.

He rarely speaks about his own pain over what exactly happened in New York. What he’d shared she’d pried out of him one night after the boys were asleep when she’d been awakened by his absence from their bed. She’d found him on the bathroom floor, huddled in a corner clutching a pillow to his chest, unsuccessfully trying to muffle tears that could be held in no longer. God, she’d never seen him like that, before or since, and she’d just held him for what seemed like hours as sobs told a broken story of shame over circumstances far beyond his control, of trying to do what was right even though it all felt so wrong, of faking smiles and conjuring affection with the weight of a convicted man, of showering after everyone was asleep, of biting his tongue so he wouldn’t call out the wrong name.

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Dear Tom Hiddleston

Happy birthday to one of the most talented british actor. He has ruined our ovaries more than once, he made us cry in The Deep Blue Sea, he made us laugh in mostly everything. He made us wonder why Loki doesn’t exist or if they are actually the same person (they are). He proved us how gentleman he is or how he supports feminism. He teased us with his bromance with Benedict, he killed us with the Ice Bucket Challenge. He made us a demonstration of his driving skills as a villain in the Jaguar commercial or with his adorable glasses in Top Gear. He danced way too much with his evil hips, he also showed us his lovely voice in Tinker Bell. He is such a fan of Shakespeare it is so adorable, he made a magnificent performance in one of his plays “Coriolanus”. He never stops being a wonderful guest in all the shows he goes in, he is so f*ucking nice with all of his fans and is so greatful to them. He just can’t help but put everything in his mouth. He also speaks a lot of languages which is more than pleasable to hear. Did I mention he is one of the cuttest creature in the world? well he is believe me.

That’s for all these reasons and a lot more that I didn’t say, that we LOVE you Tom Hiddleston, Loki, Ovary killer, whatever his name is, thank you for being who you are and for everything you do. I am sure the best is to come, again HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

morriggannlostinfandoms lokihiddles2981 scifigurl720 angreav omg-i-cant-odd thatfassy mtllovelygirl so-easy-to-love-me fassbentandhiddlesbatched

Request - Anything with Lucifer, please! :)

(I hope you enjoy it! (Let’s just go back to the less complicated days of no Metatron and Gadreel, shall we?) For some reason, I really like writing these kind of pieces that contain no dialogue, just thoughts and emotions.)


“Then the fifth angel sounded: And I saw a star fallen from heaven to the earth. To him was given the key to the bottomless pit.” Revelation 9:1


He had always thought that there would be nothing more satisfying than the sweet sound of damnation. Souls trying to take pity on themselves much too late, getting lost in the symphony catastrophe always creates, always too frightened to hear the music that comes along with the fire. To him, the conflagration was the ever-raging sun inside of the pit that he had been cast into in vain. But it was also the one he ruled oh-so well. Let the violins play and the choirs sing songs of what used to be holy, for the adversary had risen up from the depths of his fall.

He had used to want to see destruction in every corner of the Earth. The planet he sneered at. There is no goodwill, no mercy. Just facades hiding lust and greed under sneaky fingertips. Never seeing why people such as the Winchesters try to save others, for they are all monsters within themselves. Mortals never realizing that they make their own version of Hell in their lives; it wasn’t surprising how many ended up there because of that. Giving themselves a taste of what they were made for, what they existed for; that’s how it was always supposed to go.

But then you came along and trapped him on his eternal path of damnation, his footsteps lined with screams of the condemned staggering with your every breath. This is something he enjoys, though. The one thing that appeases him more than the magnificence of the kingdom he had built.

He can’t make contact with you, so he settles on keeping as close to you as possible. Passes you on the street, then again on another one later in the day. Sitting silently in the shadows of whatever room you were in, admiring the way you moved. Studying the regular motions that most brush over because they are just that self-absorbed with their own evil triumphs. The slight quirk of your lips whenever you were pleased, the slight spring in your walk. The deep blue rivers of veins that streamed throughout your flesh in a certain kind of calm between the pulses of your heartbeat. Ones that he would gladly drink out of and revel in.

He knows that he can ruin you, and give you beyond what humans need. The gift of a certain kind of salvation wrapped in a flaming bow, the only way of acceptance: to open and embrace that you were meant for the fallen star. The one that would that complete all of your constellations in their entirety, making up for the ones that burnt out due to mortal mistake. Replacing the galaxies that you wouldn’t be able to depend on in time. With just a flick of his tongue over your bottom lip, a whisper grazing the edge of your earlobe, and you would be his. He knows that all too well, but holds back. He would be able to run his hands over your flesh, the collarbones that protruded from your neck in a dainty matter, the skin on your thighs that the sun very rarely touched. But still, he never submits to the power that he knows would keep you with him.

Maybe it’s because you bring out the minuscule particles of grace that stay with him, even after many millennia of torment. He can feel them buzzing inside of him, threatening to take over the sin that needs to be washed away with the forsaken amount of holiness the Father had left for the unsuspecting mortals. But he laughs cruelly, and then shoves them inside of his own pits of darkness. He can’t be angelic again, for he is sin. You stir about in him hope, something that he cannot have without longing for what is the opposite of himself. He has no light at the end of obscurity, for what he has isn’t finite. He is his own light, the image of fire only emphasizing the fact. He can’t have faith in anything besides himself, and that’s what you give him. That’s why he cannot show himself to you; oh, he can only imagine the self-loathing and pride it would cost him if he did! Without those two things, he would be nothing; just a shamed archangel who loved his family more than he did than the wretches the Lord had created. Up until you had come into existence, at least.

You are optimism in the confines of despair and cynicism. And that is why he cannot give you a kiss, one studded with hellfire.

Robin Hood !

I finished chapter 1; let us commence the partying.

AU. Lucy returns to Nottingham after seven years in London to find her kingdom in shambles at the hands of her childhood friend. With her deceitful cousin ruling the kingdom while her uncle away at war, Lucy must decide where her heart lies, with her people and the strange band of rebellious thieves, or with her cold manipulative cousin.

The carriage gently rocked as Lucy attempted to take a short nap, 12 straight jostling hours certainly hadn’t done her mentality any good. Not to mention the week long journey by vessel, oh now that was fun. Nonetheless, only a matter of minutes until she reached her home, her real home.

Lucy had not been to Nottingham since she was twelve years old, right before she had been shipped off to boot camp in London to become a proper lady of the law. Seven whole years were spent there, torturous balancing of books and respiratory system reducing corsets topping off the list of repetitive tasks that tempted you to throw yourself out the window. And it was finally all over. She could return to her country and live along side her uncle, who she had waited years to see once again.

When Lucy’s father and mother died in an unfortunate accident, she mourned alongside her uncle, the king. He took her in like family and treated her well until her ladyship training, and she hadn’t seen him since. She could have no contact with the outside world during her lessons, no word from her uncle or her kingdom. Last she’d heard, her kingdom had tensions with the country of Tululia, and she had no positive outlook on what became of those tensions. There was almost no doubt in her mind that a war had sprouted between them, and she only prayed that that war was finished by now.

The carriage went over a hump and Lucy felt herself rise momentarily before falling back into the seat. Carriage rides, to her, were most unpleasant. She preferred walking, however high her heels were.

It was midday outside, the suns light barely peeking in through the blood red curtains, but Lucy felt a jolt of nostalgia course through her veins as the familiar oak trees passed by and she smiled fondly, recalling playing tag as a child with the village children in the woods. She was undoubtedly excited to see them all again, they’d probably all be so different.

As a child, it was smiled upon by her uncle to fraternize with the village kids her age. She’d walk down to the towns and meet up with families, they were extremely kind to her. They would open their homes to her gratefully and share everything they had. It was a kindness she hoped to return if she ever became queen.

As the carriage came to a halt, Lucy was suddenly nervous. What if nobody remembered her? It’d been seven years, it wouldn’t be too surprising…what if somebody she knew personally had died? Just how much had she missed?

“Princess?” A muffled voice inquired from outside the carriage. Lucy gathered herself quickly, wiping her worry away with a plastic smile on her doll-like features.

“C-coming!” She stuttered in a very un-princess like manner, unceremoniously grasping the folds of her dress so that she could exit the death trap.

She stumbled out, miscalculating the height of her heels with the height of the ground and tumbling forth, her dress pooling all around her like a halo of failure.

“Oh dear! Princess Lucy, are you alright?” The servant asked, bending down to her temporary height and offering his assistance with a reach of a hand.

“Erm, yes. Thank you.” She said, graciously excepting the help that was offered and lifting herself off the dusty road. Unfortunately, her dress colorfully clung to the bits of dust and dirt and she viscously shook the fabric in an attempt to break the bonds.

“O-oh, Princess Lucy, your hair!” The servant called distressfully. Lucy’s hand immediately flew to her up-do, which had been downgraded to a down-do.

“It’s quite alright, I’ll fix it, just give me a minute,” she said politely, fruitlessly smoothing her wild blonde hair into the bun it used to be.

Satisfied with her half-assed try at fixing her hair, Lucy regained her composure and began the trek up to the palace gate, her bags being already taken care of by other palace servants.

The palace, just as her memory had served her, was magnificent, glistening from the grace of the sun and towering above all else. The smooth gray walls stood strong and proud, much like the king that ruled from inside. Lucy smiled and couldn’t help herself as she eagerly raced to the entrance, ready to see everyone she had missed so much.

Instead, she was greeted with something much more unpleasant.

“Stop!” A harsh, low voice barked, halting Lucy in her tracks as she turned to face the speaker.

He looked down upon her with an almost evil sneer, like he couldn’t wait to rip her a new one.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He growled, prompting Lucy to shrink back unconsciously.

“I…was making my way to the castle…to see my uncle…” She confirmed softly, swallowing down the gulp the resided deep in her throat.

“Your uncle?” He asked amusedly, raising his, as Lucy just now noted, pierced eyebrow in mock belief. “Just who is this uncle of yours?”

Lucy was speechless. She didn’t recognize this man, though he was obviously a member of the royal guard. He was strong and intimidating, as well as downright terrifying.

Finally, she spoke up. “My uncle is the king, now if you’ll excuse me,” she bit out, side stepping him and continuing past the open gate. He slammed his arm in front of her as fast as lightning, causing her to stumble once again.

“Sir Redfox, please, this is Princess Lucy, she is the king’s cousin!” One of the servants behind her breathed out.

Wait…cousin?

Sir Redfox’s face didn’t change. “If you insist.” He said through a tightened jaw, removing his arm so that Lucy could pass.

Lucy, although confusedly, walked past him, her mind whirring.

Why would uncle ever hire such a cruel man? And why did they call me uncle’s cousin?

Lucy only had one cousin, seeing as how the king’s wife died during a brief war and refused to remarry. His brother had one daughter, being Lucy herself, and his sister had one son…Zeref.

Lucy only vaguely remembered Zeref, he and her aunt stayed rather secluded, never speaking to her unless the time called for it. Though once Lucy recalled seeing Zeref from across the dining hall, watching her. It may had been her imagination pulling tricks on her, but he still always made a shiver run down her spine.

“Princess, you should announce your presence to the king.” One of the servants suggested, pointing her to the throne room and forgetting that Lucy knew exactly where it was.

“Right.” Lucy said, making a b-line for the throne room. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Lucy pushed the large gilded doors to the throne room open with purpose, gliding in with all the silken poise she was gifted with from prep school.

Well…sort of, she liked to think she was graceful.

Lucy nearly stumbled yet again, it utter surprise at the figure that was slouched over in the mighty throne was most definitely not her uncle.

…But none other than her ludicrous cousin grinning at her like she was his latest unfortunate meal.

Dear cousin, welcome home.”

Lucy took a double take and her jaw dropped to the floor disrespectfully. No way, no way was her sick cousin king, this had to be some sort of awful joke.       

“Z-Zeref?!!?” Lucy asked, her voice shaky and unstable. Zeref’s face turned sour and he sent a wicked glare at her.

“You will refer to me as your highness,” he shot coldly. Lucy fought the urge to spit at him, and lowly bowed.

“Of course, your highness, may I ask as to where our uncle is currently?” Lucy asked gently, hoping not to hear the news she was dreading.

“Mm, of course you haven’t heard, uncle has been away for some time now, those Tululians sure put up an excellent fight,” he drawled, examining his hands like they were a thousand times more royal than uncle was.

“O-oh. I…didn’t know…” Lucy admitted shyly, rubbing the skin of her pale forearm.

“Obviously.” He snipped, looking away from her with pity. “Have one of the Ladies show her to her room,” he excused, waving his hand towards the servants who nodded obediently.

Lucy stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Zeref looked back at her, a bored look on his face that read ‘oh, you’re still here?’ and Lucy’s face reddened.

“Well? What are you still doing here? Get on with it!” He snapped, ordering her away. Lucy bit her cheek to keep from impaling him with her shoe, and turned on her heel to exit the throne room, fuming.

When she assumed she was out of range, she let that fury go.

“The nerve of that little wanker! I oughta turn him inside out and beat him with an old paddle! Idiot, imbecile-

“…Princess…?”

Oh.

Lucy wiped her anger off of her face and replaced it with a warm smile instantly.

“Sorry, you seemed to have caught me at an off moment,” Lucy admitted, pushing a strand of fallen blonde hair back behind her ear.

“I’ll say. I’m Lady Levy Redfox,” the small woman introduced, curtseying fluidly before stepping forward to take my hand.

“Hello, I’m Lucy.” She replied, shaking the short woman’s hand lightly. She smiled and motioned her to follow her up the staircase.

“Your room is on one of the top levels, it’s not far from mine, so if you need anything, you can always come ask me!” She said exuberantly, her fluffy sky hair bouncing as she flew up the steps. Lucy had a bit more trouble, her heels were half as short as Levy, yet she couldn’t balance for the life of her, even after seven years of practice.

“Wait…did you say…Redfox?” Lucy whispered, grabbing onto the staircase for support.

“Yes, he’s technically only my fiancé, but he’s been so busy lately we just haven’t had time to make it official.” She explained, examining the shimmering ring on her left hand with pride.

“But he…but he…” Lucy trailed off trying to think of a logical explanation as to why someone as kind as Levy would even associate with someone like Sir Redfox.

“Yes, he can be a bit…brash, but he’s really rather kind, once you get to know him…” She assured anxiously. Lucy nodded subconsciously, embracing the arrival at the top of the steps.

“Alright, follow me, it’s just down here.” Levy said cheerfully.

“Uh…if you don’t mind me asking, what…exactly…happened to uncle? Er…the king?” Lucy corrected quickly, not wanting to sound rude.

“That’s right, you did miss quite a bit. About five or six years ago, Tululia snapped and attacked, damaging one of the southern villages, Locksley, I think it was…”

Lucy held in a gasp. She used to go to Locksley to play as a child, she wondered just how many were killed.

“Anyhow, the king and his private army went straight away to Tululia, and…they’ve been there since.” Levy said a bit sadly.

“He’s been there…for six y-years?” Lucy whimpered. Levy nodded gravely.

“We are still in contact with him though, but the contact is very rare, and his majesty isn’t quite fond of his uncle.” Levy said in a low voice.

“That’s…good, I guess. Anything else going on here that I should know of?” Lucy said dryly, hoping to tie in a bit of sarcasm in her words. She hadn’t been able to use that sort of sassy talk at school, she was all too eager to get back into the swing of things in Nottingham.

Levy laughed softly. “Times are…tough here. The village folk have been complaining about the taxes…a rebellion has sprung, Princess.” She said in all due seriousness. They stopped in front of Lucy’s door, but didn’t make any move to open it.

“A rebellion,” Lucy repeated curiously, no such thing had happened under her uncle’s rule. Everybody adored her uncle, she could only assume the opposite for Zeref.

“Yes. A band of reckless thieves, who do nothing but cause trouble.” Levy said, her voice raising a little bit with compassion.

“Really? Do they have any sort of…reason?” She interrogated. Levy shook her head.

“It’s ridiculous. All they do is steal from those more fortunate than they.” She waved off, opening Lucy’s door hesitantly.

Lucy stopped for a second, turning back Levy. “Thank you. For your help.”

Levy smiled brightly and nodded. “Of course! You can get all settled in, your bags are already here. I’ll see you at dinner, all right?” Levy said, slowly shutting the door behind her.

“Bye Levy,” she whispered just as the door whooshed shut.

Lucy sprung into action, yanking her death trap shoes off of her feet, sighing in satisfaction when her feet could breathe once again.

She wiggled her tiny toes before diving into one of her suitcases and throwing her boots on, eager to see all of her old friends from the villages.

It was all so exciting, and nerve wracking. If they didn’t remember her, how embarrassing would that be? And even if they did recognize her, would they be happy to see her?

Lucy tried her best to push all doubts or worries to the very back of her mind, but still they lingered, nagging her like the cool breeze in November.

Just before leaving, she threw on a navy blue cloak that concealed her casual dress quite well, although her dress was casual, it still revealed much about her financial background and she preferred to remain neutral when it came to money upbringings.

Lucy walked out of the castle as normally as possible, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. Which, was normal for her, especially back at the school. You were forced to recite documents if you were caught off school grounds.

Horrible documents.

Imagine Shakespeare meets Chaucer meets drunk English major with a bone to pick with females.

Lucy shivered at the frightful memory and took a step outside, breathing in the outdoors and catching the village of Nottingham out of the corner of her eye, just a wa down the road.

Thank god she ditched those heels, or she’d be walking on the stubs that were formerly her feet when she arrived.

She tugged her cloak tighter around her thin frame, clinging to the small amount of warmth it provided. It may have only been November, but it still brought harsh gales in the noontimes that felt like freezing cold fire against your skin.

Lucy looked ahead, and was honestly surprised when she saw absolutely no activity. All her memories of Nottingham had been of streets bustling with activity and hundreds of people making conversation and kids laughing and playing tag in the roads…

Not whistling wind and empty, clattering shutters.

Even the street looked darker, its familiar shine from the sunlight was absent and looked dusty and worn. The houses were decrepit and aged, and the familiar Saturday market was nonexistent. The market was always open on Saturdays, where could it possibly be?

Lucy pulled her cloak even tighter, hoping it would solve for her sudden feeling of loneliness. She had been so hoping for a warm welcome from all of her friends, yet all she saw were dim roads and dank houses.

Empty.

Everyone must’ve been inside their houses, but why? It wasn’t nearly cold enough to scare people from going outdoors, was it?

Lucy felt like crying. She felt so alone and obsolete, everything around her had changed for the worst.

Her uncle was gone, her friends were gone, what else had to be taken from her in order for the world to be satisfied?

Child!

Lucy’s head jerked up in surprise, the sharp sound piercing the thick silence like a sword.

A thin looking woman with silvery hair had her head poked out her creaky front door, a nervous expression painted across her lovely features.

…Mira?

She hurriedly gestured for Lucy to come inside, and Lucy complied both eagerly and testily.

“Child, what in the world are you doing outside on collection day? You’ll get eaten alive out there!” She scolded, shutting the door and slipping an intricate system of locks shut.

“Collection day?” Lucy asked, watching as the woman who she thought to be Mira hurry into her kitchen to fetch her some tea.

“Dear, dear, you really aren’t from around here are you,” she chided with a soft but sad laugh.

“Well…technically yes, but…it’s been a while…” Lucy dropped her hint, hoping that Mira would recognize her even a little bit.

When Lucy was little, she used to play with Lisanna, Mira’s younger sister, while Mira would bake warm cookies and bread fro all the neighborhood kids on Fridays before market day. Mira was always nice, she would wrap scratches and bruises that were acquired during hide-and-seek.

Ira popped her head out of the kitchen, her eyes narrowed in
confusion to study Lucy.

“You used to live in Nottingham? Whatever is your name, dear?” Mira’s silver bun shifted atop her head as she continued to stare at Lucy. She removed the hood of her cloak to reveal her messy blonde hair, bedraggled by the wind and her hood.

Mira’s eyes widened in realization. “…Lucy?”

Lucy nodded in excitement, a smile breaking her face as they flew into a warm hug.

“Oh dear, it’s been so long! And you’re so beautiful, it’s so good to see you!” Mira gushed, rubbing Lucy’s back like her mother should.

“I missed all of you so much! A-and when I got here, everything was so different!” Lucy gasped, her hands wrapped around Mira’s arms tentatively.

“Mira…what happened?”

Mira looked at Lucy with pity, her eyes ghosting a tragic history. “So much, Lucy. Once the war started…everything changed.”

Lucy nodded, wanting to know more. Mira was reluctant to continue, but followed through due to the situation.

“Once the king left, Prince Zeref immediately stepped in. Everything changed Lucy, everything changed so fast…the taxes went up, the market days were cancelled, trading was limited. All of the strong men had gone off to war, including…Elfman.” She said with a strangled breath.

“Oh Mira…I’m sorry.” Lucy breathed, silently edging her to continue.

“Things only got worse…the taxes were too much for some people, and soon enough they started throwing people in jail who either couldn’t pay the taxes, or refused to.” Mira continued. “It only took a year and a half under Zeref’s rule for the first public execution in a hundred years to occur. It was that old man, I don’t know if you remember him or not, but he used to sit in his rocking chair in front of his house and yell at you kids for making a ruckus…he wouldn’t pay the taxes, and well…”

Lucy remembered him. He was all limbs, gangly and lean as he leaned over his chair, his voice like the creaking of the floorboards underneath his aged shoes. He would scream and yell when the children got too loud, ironically filling the bustling street with even more noise.

“That’s…terrible!” Lucy gasped, even though the old man was not one of her fondest memories, it didn’t mean that he deserved to die. Mira nodded gravelly.

“That was about when people started getting scared. And angry. And…well…it’s been that way ever since…” Mira ended her sad story on an even sadder note.

Lucy frowned, absorbing the information like a full sponge. She had been hit with enough bombshells for the day, but it seemed that the day wasn’t even close to being over.

Recalling something Levy had said, Lucy asked a question that had been plaguing her tired mind.

“Mira, do you know anything about…a rebellion?”

Mira’s eyes widened, but shrunk back to their normal size in a split second.

“So you’ve heard…well, where to begin…” Mira paused, the tea kettle singing. She went to retrieve the drink while I took a seat on one of her ratty chairs.

Mira walked up with a wobbly tray balanced on her hand, along with two cups and a sunny smile.

“Here you are,” she handed Lucy a cup with wisping steam arising from the surface.

“Thank you,” She said, rising the cup to her bottom lip and inhaling the hearthy scent.

“Where were we…? Oh, right, the rebellion…” Mira mused, sipping her tea as she set the tray down. “The rebellion started…hmm…two years ago, I believe. A group of young men, and now women too, well…to put it simply, they steal from the rich and give to the poor.” Mira said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“What…like, they rob rich people and give it to people who need it?” Lucy clarified, intrigued by the concept of the rebellion. In school she had learned about past uprisings, most of them not anything like what Mira was describing.

“Mhm. They’ve sure done their part, too. King Zeref is practically tearing his hair out because of them.” Mira said. Lucy could tell she was being vague about the rebellion, there was no doubt in her mind that she had something to do with it.

“Mira, have they ever…helped you?” Lucy asked, not wanting to overstep her boundaries.

Mira pursed her lips, probably unsure of whether to tell the heir to the throne her secret.

“They’re all good people, and you’d recognize most of them,” she started, sipping her tea again. “But, yes, I owe my existence to them.” She whispered. Lucy gaped, the kindest woman she knew was involved in a high stakes rebellion.

“Mira…I trust you.” Lucy whispered as well, making up her mind surprisingly quick. “If you ever need my help, I’ll be here. Just-”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Mira’s eyes shot open. “Oh no, they’re here! Lucy, you have to go!”

Mira ushered Lucy out through the back door with clear urgency. Lucy stumbled out of her house without even a goodbye as Mira hurriedly slammed the door shut so she could answer to the tax collectors.

What Mira didn’t notice were the extra jewels Lucy had ‘dropped’ on the table.

She smiled to herself as she hurried away, towards the crook of the forest where she could take a shortcut back to the castle.

Lucy really didn’t know what to think. From the looks of it, her kingdom had completely fallen apart under her cousin’s rule. And the only seeming solution was for her uncle to return.

But that wasn’t really an option. What was she supposed to do? They didn’t teach this sort of thing in prep school…all they taught there was to sit quietly and wait to get married.

Lucy stopped just before going into the forest, her mind settled. There was no way she was going to do that, she didn’t need a man to help her friends. She was going to get rid of Zeref by herself if that’s what it took.

Satisfied with her ultimatum, she made her way back to the castle to begin her plans. But just before she plunged into the woods, something caught her eye.

A lone slip of paper, sloppily nailed to an oak tree but clearly designed to ensnare the eye. Not thinking of the consequences of her actions, she yanked the paper off of its hinge so she could read it better, faded letters and all.

Wanted: for treason of the highest order;

The Red Dragon

The Red Dragon?

Lucy’s eyes skidded to the bottom of the slip, a rusty picture painted on.

The face was unmistakable, sharp jawline, cocky smile, eyes yielding mirth, and of course, spiky pink hair.

“Natsu…”

note: still working on all my other garbage.

pss gruvia is gonna be really badass in this storyyy

Just a thought...

Everyone Emma has opened herself up to, has betrayed her. Neal, Lily, Ingrid, and now her parents. Hook is next. I feel like by the end of the season, all the truth about Hook is going to surface and that will push Emma over the edge. She will then turn to the dark side. And who is going to have to save the day? To stand by her side and fight against her turning, because they understand each other? Regina Mills.

This also might be wishful thinking but, she might just get angry and evil enough to rip out the heart of the one who pushed her enough. Hook. Rumple wants him dead and will probably have some manipulation with Emma turning. So ripping out his heart and crushing it in front of Rumple will be magnificent.