Werewolf Queen

Bill Cipher: “My ex wife *Mirage from Aladdin the Series who was once Basset* still misses me…BUT HER AIM’S GETTING BETTER!!!”

These are voice actors and actresses who I think would voice my OC characters.

Summary:

Mozenrath is minding his own business in the Outside World until he overhears Bradford Buzzard threatening to erase magic. Mozenrath responds in the pettiest, most Mozenrath way possible: weaponized mango mooncakes.

Warnings:

Modern AU, petty sorcery, food‑based revenge, mild crack vibes, Mozenrath being Mozenrath.

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Hot Topic smelled like incense, vinyl, and teenage rebellion. Mozenrath fit right in.

He stood in the middle of the store, black coat sweeping behind him like a dramatic cape, judging a wall of band tees with the same intensity he used to judge incompetent sorcerers.

He wasn’t doing anything suspicious.

He wasn’t plotting anything.

He wasn’t even hexing anyone.

He was just… shopping.

And drinking a Starbucks black coffee so bitter it could strip paint.

He lifted the cup, took a sip, and muttered under his breath:

“This tastes like despair. Perfect.”

That’s when he heard it.

Not clearly — just background noise drifting from the mall corridor. Bradford Buzzard’s monotone corporate drone and Scrooge McDuck’s booming Scottish thunder. They were arguing about something, voices rising and falling like two angry geese.

Mozenrath tuned it out.

Until he heard it.

Until the words cut through the noise like a blade.

“No magic.”

Then:

“Erase magic entirely.”

Mozenrath froze mid‑sip.

The coffee hovered near his mouth.

His eye twitched.

His soul left his body, circled the mall, came back wearing brass knuckles.

Erase magic?

Erase his magic?

Erase his mother’s magic?

Absolutely not.

He set the coffee down on a shelf of Nightmare Before Christmas mugs and whispered:

“Oh, you picked the wrong sorcerer today.”

He could confront them.

He could blast them.

He could turn Bradford into a duck‑shaped mamluk and call it a day.

But that would draw attention.

And Mozenrath was trying — trying — to be subtle in the modern world.

So he thought:

“What would Mother do?”

Then:

“What would Mother bake?”

Then:

“Mooncakes.”

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.

He went home.

Pulled out Morgiana’s mango mooncake recipe — the one she used during festivals, the one he pretended he didn’t remember by heart.

He baked.

Perfectly.

Then he added the potion.

Not a romantic love potion.

Not mind control.

Just a taste‑obsession enchantment — a spell that made the eater fall hopelessly, embarrassingly addicted to the flavor.

A potion that said:

“You don’t love me.  

You love the mooncake.  

And you will do anything to get more.”

He boxed them neatly in a sleek black gift box.

He wrote a note:

“Complimentary samples from a local bakery.

— Management”

He teleported the box directly onto the conference table where Bradford and Scrooge were still arguing.

Then he went back to Hot Topic.

And picked up his coffee.

Like nothing happened.

Bradford Buzzard took a bite.

Scrooge McDuck took a bite.

They froze.

They stared at the box like it contained the secrets of the universe.

Bradford whispered:

“I…need another.”

Scrooge muttered:

“Aye, I’d trade me Number One Dime for more o’ these.”

They ate the entire box.

They fought over crumbs.

They called the “bakery” demanding more.

There was no bakery.

There was only Mozenrath.

Watching from across the mall, sipping his coffee, smirking like a smug goth gremlin.

Jafar as Jay’s Father

Jafar reacts to Jay with that same cold, possessive pride he shows toward anything he believes he created. In the OUAT world, he doesn’t raise Jay out of affection but out of purpose—a belief that blood is power, and a son can be molded into an extension of his will. Jay becomes a project, a legacy, a weapon sharpened by Jafar’s ambition.

He never forgave Amara for refusing to stand beside him, for rejecting the life he tried to force her into, and he lets Jay feel the weight of that resentment. Jay grows up hearing that he was the result of a moment of weakness, a lapse in Jafar’s otherwise perfect control. Jafar uses that truth like a blade—never enough to break Jay, just enough to keep him obedient.

Still, Jafar recognizes Jay’s potential: his speed, his charm, his instinct for survival. He drills those traits into something useful, teaching him cunning, discipline, and the art of taking what the world denies. Around Jay, Jafar is strict, exacting, and emotionally distant, offering approval only when it benefits his schemes.

Yet beneath all the cruelty, there is a flicker of twisted pride. Jafar knows Jay is strong because he had to be, and in his warped worldview, raising Jay alone forged him into something powerful—something Jafar can claim as his own creation.

Amara as Jay’s Mother

Amara reacts to Jay with a quiet, haunted distance. Jay becomes a reminder of a night shaped by fear, imbalance, and the crushing reality of Jafar’s control.

To Amara, Jay is not a child she felt free to love—he is a symbol of everything she couldn’t escape. She leaves him in Jafar’s care because she believes it’s the only option that doesn’t destroy her. She tells herself it’s better for Jay, better for her, better for everyone if she disappears.

As Jay grows, Amara watches from afar. She carries a complicated mix of guilt, sorrow, and resentment—resentment not toward Jay, but toward the life that made motherhood impossible. When their paths cross, she is tense, quiet, and emotionally shuttered, unable to reconcile the boy he became with the pain of how he came into the world.

Regina Mills — Evie’s Mother

Regina raises Evie with a fierce, complicated love shaped by fear, control, and the desperate hope that she can protect her daughter from the world—and from the darkness inside herself. In true Regina Mills fashion, her love becomes a cage: every rule, every sharp word, every restriction is meant to keep Evie safe, but instead it steals her childhood, her freedom, and her sense of security.

Evie grows up as a caretaker for Henry, a quiet shadow in her own home, molded by Regina’s terror of losing the only person she has ever loved without condition. Regina’s parenting is a contradiction—harsh yet terrified, controlling yet desperate, loving yet unable to show it in any way that doesn’t hurt.

That terror becomes reality when Regina ultimately sacrifices her life to save Evie. In that final moment, she chooses Evie’s future over her own redemption. And in doing so, she gives Evie the one thing she never managed to offer while alive: proof that her love was real, even if it was flawed, painful, and far too late.

Graham / The Huntsman — Evie’s Father

Graham reacts to Evie with a quiet, steady devotion that stands in stark contrast to Regina’s intensity. In your AU, he is her biological father—a truth Regina kept buried—and after Regina’s death, he becomes the one who steps forward, claiming Evie not out of obligation but out of genuine care.

Graham has always been a man shaped by compassion, instinct, and a deep understanding of suffering. When he adopts Evie, he does so with a gentle protectiveness, determined to give her the freedom, safety, and emotional space she never had. He doesn’t try to replace Regina, nor does he pretend her absence isn’t a wound—they grieve her together, quietly, honestly.

Around Evie, Graham is patient and grounding. He teaches her how to breathe again, how to exist without fear, how to be a child instead of a caretaker. He gives her a home built on trust rather than control, on choice rather than obedience. And in doing so, he becomes the first parent who lets her be Evie, not a reflection of someone else’s pain.

Just a heads up, I've decided to remove Tyson and Kristanna from this AU. But not to worry, I've decided to recycle those two as Disneyverse infants.

Now here's the repost of the girls' prom outfits!

Aliyah Dinari, Audrey Rose, & Gretel der Sonne

Jane Goodfairy, Lan-Li, & Pippa Sapor