Austin

But that can wait. Your guest is tired, jumpy, and understandably in need of time to rest and recover. You won’t need her help for the warfare aspect anyway. You ensure your demonic servants will protect her with their lives and make her feel safe and welcome. Then you set aside some time in your busy schedule of conquest to check on the poor girl. Purely to determine whether she’s in prime condition for manipulating, of course. Your future puppet ruler will be more likely to cooperate if you build a solid foundation of respect and trust, after all.

Years of serving as the Dark Lord have taught you that your minions work harder when you treat them well. So you provide your young guest with everything she requests, within reason of course. She says she hasn’t slept well lately because her stuffed animal was left behind when she fled home. You ask if there are any other things of hers she misses from her old home. With a now completed list, you send your most covert operatives to the enemy palace to execute a most wicked heist of a stuffed animal and the princess’s dog dubbed Sir Meatball, as well as a few books she would read for comfort. You congratulate yourself on how evil it is of you to steal a dog. And just for good measure you have your minions perform reconnaissance on the palace. You’ll have to invade it soon anyway. May as well multitask.

The interesting thing is the hero the enemy sends to fight you. The chosen one it would seem, although it continues to baffle you how young he is. Young and impressionable. He barely knows how to hold that magic sword he wields. It’s barely light enough for him to lift. You send your winged minions to carry him toward your evil castle of dread and terror. You greet him at the landing pad on the roof. He insists on dueling you, even as his sword shakes in his sweaty palms. The prophecy says he will defeat you in a one-on-one duel. Very well, you decide. If something goes wrong you have medics on hand. You wouldn’t want someone to die from a friendly duel. He’s no match for you, you soon find. You humor him for a while. He obviously came a long way to duel you after all, and you can tell he’s trying very hard to hit you with that sword. You give him a few passing tips as you fight, and he thanks you awkwardly.

Then the princess interrupts your duel. “Maximus!” She chides, “you promised to take me dragon riding this afternoon!”

You turn to your dark secretary of doom, Jerry, who squints at the evil schedule of hopelessness and cries out. “Ah! She’s right, my lord. My sincerest apologies.”

“That’s alright, my faithful minion,” you say while holding the tip of the chosen’s sword between two fingers. “This whole duel thing was a bit of a spontaneous thing, and I should have looked at the schedule first.” You look down at the boy. “I’m sorry, child, but it seems I have a commitment to fulfill with the dear princess. Can we reschedule this duel for a later date?”

“Wh-what? No! The duel has already started, you can’t just back out like that!” He says, trying with all his might to pry his sword free from your grip.

“Very well,” you say with a sigh. “In that case, I forfeit, and you win the duel by default. There, that fulfills the prophecy. Would you like a ride home?”

The chosen one blinks with shock. “I-“

“Oh, what am I saying? You’ve come all this way, you must be exhausted. You ought to stay for dinner later. We’re having doom chicken soup of eternal darkness! It’s absolutely to die for.”

The boy looks at the princess quizzically. She assures him it’s just normal chicken soup. You vehemently deny this, saying you’re evil cook of evilness Frederick is supernaturally good at his job, and to refer to the fruits of his labor as “just normal soup” would be an insult to all the work he puts in.

You take the princess dragon-riding, and later that evening during dinner the chosen one breaks down crying. You ask him what’s wrong. He opens up about his confusion. He’d spent his entire journey up on this point dreading the responsibility thrust upon him. He’d barely survived several encounters with monsters and demons and now that he’s here, he’s questioning his entire perspective. After all, he says, you’ve been treating him better than anyone ever did back home and despite the spiky black armor you seem so genuinely kind. He doesn’t know what to do, he confesses.

You reassure him that no one expects anything of him, and that he can stay as long as he’d like, or he could simply go back home in the morning. You won’t stop him. He says he still has to fulfill the other half of the prophecy, freeing the princess from those who would cause her harm. The princess assures him that she is not in any danger where she is, and that if he really wants to fulfill the prophecy he ought to help you overthrow her parents.

taller, shorter, slimmer, more muscular, purple hair, tattoos everywhere, tattoos nowhere, 

every single shoe would fit you every single time you tried it on, every single article of clothing would fit your perfectly, all you have to do is transform slightly, you’d never run out of ‘your size’ again

~cosplay

~Halloween costumes

~acting

~cosplay

~stretching to reach stuff and shrinking to fit through spaces

~cosplay

~cosplay

“Don’t antagonize the fae.”

(My name has a - in it)

Or

my dude

my guy

my pal

Ship: Stucky

Word count: 771

Prompt: “Your hair is so soft…”

Warning(s): character death

Summary: No Captain America AU/preserum AU where Bucky’s last words to Steve before he left were “Your hair is so soft..”

Steve was half asleep when Bucky left. He’d known this day was coming for weeks, the day Bucky would leave for the war. He’d anxiously marked off days on his calendar, determined to be brave and supportive, even if it was only for his boyfriend. Bucky had sat up as soon as his alarm went off, Steve remembered the loud, obnoxious ringing luring him back to consciousness and away from the world in his head. As Bucky had gotten up, Steve sat up, rubbing his eyes with his small, skinny hands and looking at the taller man as he dressed up in his neat uniform.

This boy fucking shattered a likely steel (maybe iron) chain with a single kick and he could have done so much more damage.

13 year old Zuko, now the Fire Lord and dismantling the war effort. No one can stop him. Iroh is giving vague advice and doing nothing to stop this angry tiny teenager. Nothing can be done. He’s threatened over half the generals and most of the nobility for trying to speak against him. (teenagers have no fear, he’d just bulldoze through the council)

16 year old Zuko, just having defeated Zhao and decided he’s done with the war and his father. Word might not reach Ozai until Zuko’s almost at the palace, but you bet the Gaang heard, is on there way and are going to laugh as the Fire Lord is brought down by his angry teenage son. (They may or may not offer him a ride to get him there quicker because they want to witness Ozai fail at fighting off an angsty Zuko.)

16 year old Zuko, just healed after being struck by lightning immediately standing up, walking to the generals and telling them to get their troops the fuck out of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe areas before he challenges them to an Agni Kai. (He knows Katara would flip on anyone dumb enough to take him up on it while injured. He’d still try and fight anyway.)

Two, how dare you leave this in the tags?

The same kick that Zuko used to fling him harmlessly into the snow back at the southern water tribe

“Sokka no”

(Somehow in this universe they still need Toph, she’d love this version of Zuko)

Oh.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Zuko most likely could have beat Team Avatar with Azula by his side if Zuko wasn’t so kind.