Dribs and drabbles

by Bacner

Summary:

More drabbles, short stories, and other works - HP-related, but not only.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody here.

Chapter 1

Astoria Greengrass is quite pretty, for someone of her age. She has glossy black hair, and sparkling blue eyes, and a smile to die for – no doubt which is why Blaise Zabini is hanging around her, lately.

“Oh, absolutely,” Draco Malfoy agreed with Parvati, who wasn’t in Slytherin for all those years, but now that the Dark Lord was defeated by Potter permanently at last, she decided to change Houses after all. “And now that his mum – the original Ms. Zabini – seems to have succumbed to something or other for good, he is looking for his own wife, as well.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding him lately?” Parvati asked him nonchalantly.

“In part,” Draco did not bother denying the obvious, “though the latest article about the Krum family scandal has also contributed to it.”

“Oh?” Parvati raised one of her eyebrows. The article had been quite dark, in fact: apparently, after marrying his fiancé, Viktor Krum had cursed, transforming her basically into a mindless husk, albeit that was well cared for by himself, his staff, and his mistress, who used Polyjuice potion, various glamours, and several other magics to pass off as her for all of this time. The Krum father, and his own new wife might’ve been on this as well, though the Krum mother, now safely distanced from all of this dark mess, probably wasn’t, and had just left her husband – Krum’s father – of all her designs… or maybe she did, but just wanted no part of it, who knows…

“Yes, oh,” Draco shot back, sharper than he wanted to. “I’m surprised that you, with your keen grasp on all of the latest news, didn’t see it-“

“Oh, I did,” Parvati admitted, (this is why I pushed Astoria onto Blaise, she does not add). “Blaise probably isn’t like Viktor Krum, but similarities are there, and, honestly, one didn’t have to follow the Dark Lord, to be a dark wizard-“

Astoria Greengrass laughed, possibly overly loudly. Both Draco and Parvati shifted and eyed the Golden Trio (plus Ginny Weasley) across the common room, but the Gryffindors clearly did not intend to be interested in anyone, or be involved with anyone else but each other, and so neither did Draco and Parvati. Get involved with the hot mess that were Blaise and Astoria, that is.

“…I got to admit that Grainger was wiser than people realized, when she didn’t get involved with Krum over those summers, no matter what Dumbledore planned,” Draco muttered to Parvati, as the two quietly left the common room for somewhere more private – if McGonagall or Slughorn came into the common room and decided to get involved, heads were going to roll, and the two Slytherins didn’t want them to be theirs. “Ron Weasley might not be a lot of things, but dangerous isn’t one of them, and Grainger just wants someone to be reliable to her, especially since the stunt she did with her parents? That is something else!”

“Mmm,” it was Parvati’s time to nod in agreement – she (and her twin) still had issues with the Golden Trio (and Ginny Weasley), but if her twin made her peace with it, Parvati not so much – this is why she and Pansy Parkinson were going to curse both Ginny and Hermione with a time-delayed curse later on…

“A time-delayed curse? Fascinating,” Draco muttered, as he wrapped his arm around Parvati’s waist. “Also, glad to hear that you and Pansy are getting along-“

“Yes, and you know what that means,” Parvati took a deep breath. “You and Theo Nott-“

Draco took a deep breath to explain as to what he thought about ‘him and Theo Nott’, when he caught the look in Parvati’s eyes and slowly deflated. “Me and Nott can get along,” he caught himself, “provided that he gives me space to breathe-“

“We can do that,” Pansy Parkinson peeked from around the corner as If on cue. “Right, Theo?”

“Absolutely,” Theo sounded about as excited as Draco felt, i.e. not very. “As long as we don’t have Blaise and his girl along-“

“Mr. Zabini! Ms. Greengrass! What are you doing?” McGonagall’s shout seemed to shake Hogwarts’ foundations. The Silver (Slyterin) Trio (plus Parvati Patil) exchanged a look between themselves and quickly left Hogwarts for Hogmead, before they were caught in the fall-out…

Chapter 2: Shuri, Bucky and the jackal

Summary:

What it says on the title

Notes:

Golden jackals aren't found in RL Africa, but, hey, it's MCU, so why not?

Once upon the MCU, there was an African country named Wakanda, and it had a princess, named Shuri. She had a big brother, named T’Challa, a sister-in-law named Nakia, and a mum, named Ramonda – and the aforementioned mum cornered Shuri on that particular day, and told her to visit her grandpa and especially grandma, and bring them a basket full of treats.

“Isn’t making gifts and visits to dignitaries part of T’Challa’s job – he’s the Black Panther, not me,” Shuri asked sceptically.

“Oh, it is, but it isn’t a visit to a dignitary,” Ramonda was perfectly agreeable, which is why Shuri doubled on her suspicions: she and mum did not get along too well lately. “It is a visit of a granddaughter to a grandmamma!”

“Ah, ha,” Shuri was not buying it, (not that she would fight with her mum directly on such a topic, to be honest). “Want to come with me, then? It is a lovely day, after all-“

“Hell no!” Ramonda immediately toned down the attitude. “Dear, when you’ll reach my age, you’ll realize that a woman can be a grandmother to one person, and a mother-in-law to another, and the two roles are quite different! Off you go, then!”

And off went Shuri – she caught onto her mother’s strategy quickly enough, but visiting her paternal grandparents still stung: the people in question did not like Ramonda or her children very much, royalty or not.

 

As Shuri walked through the Wakanda country roads – pause. Let’s clarify: as a princess and an inventor, Shuri had all sorts of transportation modes available to her, but lately people in the palace, (except for T’Challa and Nakia, but they didn’t quite count), hinted that Shuri was getting too broad in the beam, which was ridiculous, since she was in a perfect body shape, and mum really didn’t have much of justification to harp about Shuri’s body shape – but still. Shuri decided that some exercise would not hurt, and so off she went – on foot.

As she walked through Wakanda on foot and enjoyed the views, who should come up to her, but… some strange jackal, which she had never seen before, in fact.

“Hello, princess Shuri,” the jackal said politely, as legibly as any human would.

Now you might think that a talking jackal is strange, but this is MCU, and this was Wakanda, and between magical herbs, and sacred beasts, and many other things, a talking jackal was perfectly ordinary and reasonable.

“Hello, Mr. Jackal,” the fact that Shuri seemed to be channeling her inner Disney princess might have also something to do with her nonchalance on that day. “What’s up?”

“I could ask you the same thing – you royal types don’t come out here too often-“

“I’m visiting my paternal grandparents, their home is located down the road, from where the smoke is coming from,” Shuri helpfully explained. “I’m bringing them a basketful of goodies and such.”

“Want me to deliver the basket to them instead of you?” the jackal cheerfully offered.

Shuri blinked and gave the jackal a look. Jackals may be related more closely to wolves than to foxes, but their behavior was more fox- or coyote-like instead; i.e., jackals are tricksters, even in Wakanda.

“No tricks, and no hanky-panky,” she told the jackal sternly, even as she handed over the basket to him.

“No tricks and no hanky-panky,” the jackal agreed, even as he accepted the basket. “In fact, I’ll do it all official-like instead, like a proper courier with all the bells and whistles!” (Come on, Wakanda’s advanced enough to have a courier delivery service of its’ own).

“Sounds like a plan,” Shuri agreed, and after parting ways with the jackal, she returned home and began to invent something or other once more, until her inner danger detector went off, and she hid. Just not far enough not to hear her mum and grandmamma cursing each other out over the phone, something about a courier service charging Shuri’s grandparents a metaphorical arm and leg. (Come on, Wakanda’s advanced enough to have a phone service of its’ own).

Shuri, who was aware that she should have delivered the basket herself, and not get some strange jackals involved, felt a certain concern.

“Hey, Shuri,” Bucky Barnes commented from behind her.

“…How’d you know it was me?” Shuri asked, even as she quickly whirled around – she has not quite figured her relationship with the Winter Soldier/the White Wolf just yet.

“You’re unmistakable,” Bucky told her honestly, “and can we talk?”

“About what?” Shuri asked, when she noticed the jackal, sitting obediently next to Bucky, (something that jackals are not known for doing – they may be related to domestic dogs, but not as much as wolves or coyotes are, you know?) “Oh dear. Mr. Jackal, is that you?”

“And you know him already. Of course,” Bucky sighed. “This fellow was going around the market – he bought a fancy rolling pin and exchanged it for a chicken, then he exchanged the chicken for a goose, then the goose for a sheep, and now he’s trying to get me to accept the sheep in exchange for my dog, so that he could marry her.”

Shuri blinked. “What dog?” she asked the first thing that came to her mind.

“This one,” Bucky indicated, and indeed, a domestic dog, (a local breed) came over to them.

“Right,” Shuri blinked. “A golden jackal wants to marry a domestic dog. What else is new?”

“Your mother is looking for you, and she’s looking angry,” Bucky took Shuri’s statement at a face value, because of course he did. “Want to go and stay at my place while we sort it all out with those two?”

“Yes please!” Shuri said brightly, and this was what four of them did, (while hiding away from the queen mother Ramonda and co. – but that was another story).

End

Chapter 3: First meeting

Summary:

A slightly AU take on Shere Khan meeting the black panther F!Bagheera and the (foreign brown) bear Baloo for the first time.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.

The jackal was excited. Shere Khan did not really care about the much smaller animal, but he had to admit that the wild not a dog had his uses, and right now, he perhaps was demonstrating some of those uses. Perhaps.

“And what are you yapping about?” he curtly asked the wild not-a-dog.

“Sir, sir, there’s a strange new bear in the jungle, I can smell it!”

“A strange new bear. Of course,” Shere Khan said flatly. He had encountered bears in his past, before he settled here, in the territory held by the wolves of the Seonee pack, and as far as he was concerned, if one did not confront the bear, the bear would not confront you, and be quite happy with their diet of roots, ants, and termites. Therefore, he, followed by his minion, went onto his regular routine of the evening jungle patrol.

As the big, albeit somewhat lame, tiger was walking through the jungle; he became aware that he was being watched. For a while, he ignored it, (aside from elephants and rhinos, few animals want to fight a tiger), but eventually he became exasperated with the shyness and the slyness, and whirled around, looking for the stalker.

“My eyes are up here,” came the sly (and saucy), but decidedly feminine reply, and it was not of the ursine kind either.

Quickly, Shere Khan looked up, and indeed, there sat a leopard on the branch, of the black panther variety. “Hello there,” the leopard (leopardess) said brightly. “I’m Bagheera!”

“Shere Khan,” the tiger said, sounding somewhat pompous, (and hating him-self for it – this was the first big cat other than himself that he’d seen in a while, and here he was, sounding like some entitled lion or something). “Pleased to meet you,” he added, sounding relatively less confident. “You’re new,” he added, stating the obvious.

“Yes, me and the big Siberian galoot have escaped from the human menagerie only recently,” the panther agreed. “Pleased to meet you too, Shere Khan.”

“Master, master, she must be talking about that strange new bear!” Tabaqui yelped excitedly.

“You got a jackal,” the panther Bagheera noted, neutrally.

“He has his uses,” Shere Khan responded, surprising himself. “So what about the bear?”

“He’s over there,” the panther commented, pointing in the direction in question with one of her paws. Shere Khan looked, and there, in the deepening late afternoon/early evening shadows, lay a dead deer, and someone else was already eating it.

“Excuse me,” he spoke with more politeness than he intended to – bears did not eat meat as a rule, but still, today was not a typical day either. “Is that your deer?”

“No,” came the curt reply, (spoken with an accent; come to think of it, the leop-ard too spoke with an accent, but a different one). “The wolves brought it down, judging by the smell. I’m hungry, though, and so’s the panther here, so we don’t care.” The speaker paused, and added, in a more thoughtful tone of voice. “Well, I don’t care, at any rate.”

“That’s nice,” Shere Khan realized that they were about to have a confrontation, (something that he had not had in a while – the wolves did not count). “Now step aside, please.”

“Excuse me?” and the other speaker – ‘the strange new bear’ – moved into the fading sunlight.

Shere Khan blinked. For once, the jackal was correct, as the bear was indeed atypical – too big and too brown, to put it down simply.

“I got to say,” The bear snorted, “that you tigers are on the smallish size here, compared to home, eh panther?”

“Excuse me?” Shere Khan said politely, even as he slid out his claws out.

The bear shifted. Whereas a tiger’s – any big cat’s – paws and claws are designed to latch on and not let go, a bear’s – any bear’s – paws and claws are more like shovels, they slam and pummel instead, and if a blow of any bear lands, even on a tiger, it will painful at best.

This bear’s paws were clearly designed to inflict more than just pain, but Shere Khan had no desire to back down, and-

-and a certain sound ruined the evening silence. Shere Khan – as well as the bear – looked in this direction, and sure enough, there was the panther, eating the venison already.

“What?” she asked in a decidedly feminine manner, raising her eyebrows. “You two are busy with each other, I might as well eat-“

Something snapped between the (Bengal) tiger and the (brown) bear, as tension abruptly diminished between them, and they abruptly made their way to the dead deer and began to consume it themselves, with relish. Big cats are rela-tively neat eaters, bears – less so, therefore there was even enough food for the jackal, and then-

…The bear abruptly stopped eating meat and crunching bones and took a sniff on the air. “Greedy-guts the wolves are here.”

The big cats abruptly stopped eating, (Tabaqui was already hiding the shadows behind the tiger), and stared. Indeed, the Seonee pack was present, for it had been their deer. The past tense here was important, because in the present, the dead deer was by now little more than skin and broken bones, after the three larger carnivores (plus one small jackal) had eaten their fill.

The wolves, not surprisingly, were not happy with this development, but the bear also distracted them, possibly.

“And what is going on, here?” the pack leader – Akeelah - proclaimed.

“We’re eating,” the bear replied flatly, with notably more hostility than he had with Shere Khan, initially. “What does it look like?”

“…It is our kill,” the pack leader muttered, as he, and the rest of the pack, took stock of the new bear, and did not like it. “It is ours, by the Jungle Law-!”

“It is? Indeed? Well, I guess you’ve showed me,” the bear shrugged, as he ab-ruptly dropped on all fours and turned around. “Guess I’ll better leave. See you around, you Chinese panther-!”

“Likewise,” the panther nodded, as she was already disappearing into the shad-ows of the jungle dusk. “See you around too, Shere Khan!”

“What you said,” Shere Khan nodded, as he too departed – he really did not want to deal with the wolves right now. Tabaqui the jackal was already doing that, taking care to have Shere Khan between himself and the wolves, as rela-tives or not, wolves had no love for the jackals. At all.

…As the tip of the tiger’s striped tail vanished in the darkness between the trees, the wolves shifted their attention back to the dead deer. The past tense was important here, again, as all that was left of the deer in the presence, now, were shards of bone, bits of skin, hooves, and antlers – and little more.

“Hey, look, they followed the Jungle Law and left us the hide and the head,” some optimistic wolf commented… from the back of the pack.

Akeelah just sighed, and the wolves went to hunt tonight – again.

End?

Notes:

Hey, if everyone is making Baloo a brown bear, I'll make Baloo a brown bear, in a more logical way though.

Chapter 4: OCs galore

Summary:

A short Zootopia drabble

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

…The construction work proceeded at a steady pace. Nick and Judy observed with a certain respect, how a jackal female named Precious, and a coyote male named Grey, were busy erecting the mini-playground in the bears’ (and the pandas’) suburb.

“You’ve done construction work before, haven’t you?” Judy asked to break the ice. (Being bigger than foxes, jackals and coyotes were not too friendly to the rabbits normally, but one never knows until one tries)…

“Eh,” Precious muttered and glared at her partner.

“Less than you would think,” the coyote admitted. “This is really the upper limit of our professionalism and experience and expertise; anything more complex, and the alderman would have to employ some real construction professionals, such as Mr. Bull and his crew – and they are certainly more expensive than we are.”

“I see,” Judy muttered, as it was clear that the other couple were not too pleased to be supervised by her or Nick, (which was not too unexpected, she supposed, but still), when someone else arrived on the scene, and cleared their throat to catch everyone else’s attention.

Judy glanced in their direction and took a double take, as it became evident that the new arrival in fact was not Duke Weaselton; the family resemblance was there, but the new arrival was about as tall as Nick, slightly broader in the shoulders, and furrier than any weasel normally was. Put otherwise, the new arrival was less likely to sell any sort of a bootleg item, and more likely just to mug the rube in the some dark alley instead – not much of an improvement over Duke, really.

Grey and Precious, conversely, recognized the newcomer straightaway.

“I’Chuck,” Grey said even more coolly than how he had addressed Judy. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” the newcomer did not appear to be too intimidated by the cold shoulder of a welcome, and that was probably a bad thing, because of the obvious. “Are you two available to talk?”

Grey and Precious exchanged looks, turned off their construction equipment, and the trio walked a bit off to the side, where they had a short, but a relatively heated, conversation, at the end of which the newcomer left, the expression on his muzzle is even stormier than before.

“Problems?” Nick sidled over to the other two canines.

“Probably, possibly,” Grey did not bother arguing. “All fishers are crazy to begin with-“

“Fishers?” Judy blinked.

“Fishers. Bigger than the martens and weasels are, smaller than the wolverines are, but still have plenty of bite behind their bark,” Grey nodded.

“…Great friend material,” Nick could not help but to comment.

“No, not really,” Grey admitted, “and that is the point. The three of us went to Ms. Kitchi’s metalwork shop, and we were the only non-wolves there – Ms. Kitchi is a grey wolf herself.”

Judy glanced at Nick. “Pack mentality,” the red fox admitted, not sounding very happy himself. “Grey wolves don’t really like anyone else, not even other ca-nines – especially other canines.”

“Only now Ms. Kitchi – who’s a widow with a single daughter, BTW – has been getting friendly with her neighbour, who’s a chimpanzee on top of anything else,” Grey muttered. “The two species have frequently clashed with each other in the city’s real estate market; so many beasts are upset about that besides any other reasons – and now our fisher ‘friend’ is intent on stirring the pot. All fishers are crazy, but this one is even angrier with the world than an average fisher is.”

“So, now what?” Judy asked despite her intentions.

“No, you contact the bears and tell them that the place is finished, and they should contact Mr. Rabbit the inspector for him to complete the paperwork and, well, to inspect the place,” Precious muttered. “Nick, see you and your bunny around.” And they left.

The end?

Chapter 5: Draco and Parvati-verse chapter 2

Summary:

More adventures of Draco and Parvati, now guest starring Ron Weasley!

Notes:

Disclaimer: I still don't own anyone here.

“…And so,” Draco Malfoy was telling the children, while his wife Parvati was sitting at a table nearby, pretending not to listen, (and failing), “the Arctic fox is white in winter and brown in summer; it is a master of adaptability, if not of cunning, as its’ red fox cousin is, and so, a successful wizard or witch must strive to imitate both, if they are to be, well, successful!”

Parvati could not help herself. She giggled. Her husband’s fables, parables, and what else have you, were that humorous – at least to her. Judging by how their daughter, Poonam, was also giggling, she was not the only one. Teddy Lupin, on the other hand, (whose relationship to Draco and Malfoys was obvious, Parvati just had not figured out as to what it in fact was), just looked at Draco with a rather Draco-like expression on his face, something like ‘girls (and women are sure weird!’. Given that he was only slightly older than Poonam herself was, it was forgivable (and understandable).

“I’m so glad that you’re finding it humorous,” Draco said stiffly, (with a sparkle that undercut the statement – the children could make metaphorical ropes out of him, and it showed). “This advice might be important to you later on in life after all-“

There was a knock on the door.

“Now who could that be?” Draco got up from the floor, frowning – Lucius and Narcissa weren’t going to be back for a couple of weeks yet from their second honeymoon, he and Theo Nott had buried the axe of war, but they were still nowhere close enough to make home visits to each other, his relationship to Zabini was more distant yet, and as for Crabbe and Goyle-

Right. It could not be Crabbe and Goyle.

Slowly, Draco opened the front door.

It was Ron Weasley.

Draco blinked.

So did Ron.

Draco blinked once more.

So did Ron.

Draco-

“Ron Weasley! What a surprise!” Parvati said brightly in an overly enthusiastic way, (which went over Ron’s head, because of course it did). “How can we help you? Why are you here-?”

Ron blinked one last time. “Parvati. Hi! Long-time no see,” he spoke in a way that made Draco honestly wonder if they should not take the other man to St. Mungo’s, because it was becoming very likely that Ron was under the influence of something. “Motherhood suits you-“

“Ron. Cut the small talk,” Parvati, who actually did not feel fully physically recovered from her first pregnancy and childbirth, said curtly. “Why are you here?”

“Right,” Ron took a deep breath, tried again, and did not quite succeed. “Would you two be interested in hiring some house-elves?”

Draco opened his mouth, when Ron gestured, and a small throng of house-elves of all genders, ages, and so on came from behind him. Practically all of them wore clothing, and at least two in the front had-

“Why are you wearing wigs?” Draco asked instead of whatever he had initially intended to ask.

“Because we’re girls!” the two house-elves in question squeaked indignantly.

“Oh,” Draco blinked and grew thoughtful. Ron Weasley, of course, did not realize it and put his own two cents in:

“They’re fan girls of Hermy and Mariska,” he said.

“Of who-?” Parvati could not help but to ask.

“Mariska. The original Ms. Krum. Viktor’s mum. She and Hermione have bonded over so many things – don’t ask,” Ron muttered with some emotion that Draco could not place, and did not want to. Instead…

“Parvati,” he told his wife. “Remember how we talked that the magical British society lacks some over the better bits from India, such as Bollywood, and there’s no culture, no nothing?”

“Yeah-?” Parvati asked warily.

“So, let’s hire those house-elves and make them our artistic troupe! It’ll be progressive, for we will be paying them, and our lives won’t be as – colorless as you’ve claimed that they are!” He paused and shifted to the house-elves. “And you won’t be doing the usual household work, not unless you want to,” he added.

There was a pause as Parvati and the elves (Ron Weasley did not really count anymore) looked at each other.

“This could work out,” Parvati admitted first. “Clearly, they’re already trying to come across as humans, or something along those lines. So, Elf-Grainger, Elf-Krum, do you and yours want to be the house-elf pioneers in the world of art and acting?”

“Yes please!” the house-elves, (all of them), said brightly.

“Then come on in,” Parvati said grandly, “and let’s start!”

“Hooray!” and all of the house-elves went inside.

“Thank you very much for them, Ron,” Draco said kindly, even as he firmly shook the other wizard’s hand. “They look exactly like what we need. We really have to have a couples’ day out sometime in the future. Have a nice day!” And he closed the door, leaving Ron outside, (because of course he did).

Ron was left standing outside, blinking stupidly, before leaving. Today just was not a good day to be a Weasley…

Chapter 6: Leodore's crazy morning

Summary:

More Zootopia hijinks...

Notes:

Disclaimer: I own the OCs here, in fact.

One relatively fine, though overcast, morning, Leodore Lionheart was sitting next to a window in his home, having his breakfast, and watching his neighbours’ cubs play at their yard. Since Leodore was a lion, he lived in a suburb where lions were the dominant species, (though a few other animals, mostly other big cats, also were present), and his neighbours – all of them – were lions too. The main difference of Leodore from them was that that most of them were married, and Leodore was not. Not yet. Somehow, with all of the politicking and whatnot, he never got time to have a personal life… and that was rather sad, and not just because his current political opponent – Mr. Rama the (Asian water) buffalo was happily married with children.

(Mr. Rama was also being discreetly sponsored by Mr. Hathi, the chief of the Pachyderm Plethorium, and one of the best lawyers of Zootopia. That was even more worrisome, but for now, Leodore kept a professional face about this fact and refused to be bothered by this fact in the public).

Anyhow, as Leodore was watching the neighbours’ cubs play with each other, (there were three of them), and their mum busy setting up a set for her blog, vlog, or whatever, (Leodore actually was not all that astute in social media, something that he didn’t like to admit, in fact), a hare ran pass the neighbours’ wall and doorway.

Followed by a grey wolf.

This could be taken in various ways, and the fact that the hare and wolf duo began to do this – i.e. run back and forth, up and down the street with neither getting an upper hand, (albeit in different ways, admittedly), implied that no loss of life was forthcoming.

Still, roleplaying in public was not a particularly legal thing to do either, and so the cubs’ mum called out to the mismatched duo, and without watching her language either, (causing Leodore to wince – lions had certain social obligations regarding their public image, after all).

The hare and the wolf stopped, and the wolf in particular called out to the lioness, (whose name was Leonora, FYI), in even stronger language; given that usually wolves deferred to the lions just because, this was atypical, and in a way that was more bad than good.

In part, that was because Leonora was a proud beast, and a physically fit one: she abruptly got over the fence and chased after the smaller beasts, clearly intending to give them the old one-two.

As Leodore continued to sit in his window and debate as to whether he should get involved, there was a crashing sound, and the issue was taken out of his paws. He hurried in that direction to see as to what was going on… and he found Leonora sticking through a hole in the wall, parallel to the ground, her tail and hindquarters for everyone else to see.

There were no signs of either the hare or the wolf.

Leodore took one last look at his neighbour’s hindquarters and called the rescue services.

 

The rescue services arrived promptly, (but then most services did, when it came to the lions). They took one look, and began to remove Leonora from the wall… mostly by dismantling the wall. Leodore actually was not certain that that was the right way of doing things, but since he actually was not an expert, he did not comment on that. Rather, he focused on entertaining the neighbours’ cubs, alongside his campaign manager, Ms. April.

Ms. April was… a mountain lion or a puma, actually, meaning that she was quite a bit smaller and more fragile than your proper lion was, but Leodore didn’t care, because she was actually professional and competent, (and rather good-looking, but this was neither the place nor the time). That said, she was a bit out of water, when dealing with the proper lions, and it showed – in particular, she was not appearing too worried as to where the cubs’ father was. Leodore, whose relationship with his own father had been something else, was.

…The father of the cubs’, actually, did not take long to arrive; however, when he did, instead of going to the children or his wife, he took one good hard look at her hindquarters, and went… further down the street, where another one of Leodore’s neighbours, (also a bachelor lion), lived.

“Leonidas!” yelled Leonora’s husband, (and quite loudly, especially by the lions’ standards). “I know that you’re home, you bloody slob!”

“Now what is the meaning of this, Leif?” Leonidas, an older, heavier lion, (who had a limp and walked around with a stick), looked down from his upper floor balcony.

“I know everything, the paternity tests confirmed it!” Leif snarled.

“Oh, kriff!” Leonidas groaned and bolted inside. Bad idea, for his front door was unlocked, apparently, and the younger lion burst inside too. There was a pause, as the cubs, Ms. April, and Leodore looked at each other, but the local security, (the lions did live in a gated, private community, complete with a private security force of their own), was already on it: after a minimum of physical violence, (done safely indoors, away from the most eyes), the other two lions were carried outside by the security officer.

Lions – especially male lions – are big and powerful beasts, and few other creatures can handle them, moreover two at once. The huge polar bear security officer was doing this feat well enough, even though he did appear strained somewhat by the effort.

“Thank you, Mr. Sven,” Ms. April smiled at the polar bear in question, before turning back to Leodore. “Um, whose lawyer do I need to call?”

“I already called mine!” Leif shouted from his position in Mr. Sven’s massive paws.

“Call Leonidas’, then,” Leodore sighed, before turning back towards his own house. “Mum!”

“Yes, dear?” Leodore’s mum, (the original Ms. Lionheart, at least for the moment), immediately replied, since she had been clearly eavesdropping on the entire event, albeit discretely.

“Can you please entertain the youngsters?” Leodore continued nonchalantly, (albeit with an effort – since she moved-in with him, seeing how her own home was being repaired – long story, don’t ask – his mum began to pinch his cheeks in public, ignoring the fact that Leodore was a grown-ass lion now, and there was nothing that Leodore could do. Not without being an ungrateful douche and he was not that, whatever else he was)…

“Sure thing, dear,” Ms. Lionheart smiled at the young trio. “Come on in, then, you!”

“…Your teeth are certainly sharp, for someone your age,” the eldest child – a female – said sagely. “How do you do it?”

“Good question,” Ms. Lionheart grinned, while giving the much-younger lioness a more respectful glance. “Why don’t we go inside and talk about that?”

The cubs looked at the other adults. Both Leodore and Ms. April nodded in agreement, and so the youngsters left with Leodore’s mum, who shot both Leodore and Ms. April an approving glance, causing the other two to sputter.

It was then that the police arrived, (including Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps, be-cause why not), and things began to calm down at last…

Chapter 7: A Dominion variant

Summary:

An AU for Jurassic Park/World franchise.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

The weather was cold, (because it was only the end of winter/the beginning of spring, but still); the sky was overcast and partially cloudy, because the weather was also windy – and the wind itself was cold as Hell; a hare was prancing around in the woods.

It was prancing around in the woods, as opposed to the bobcat, which was pouncing in the woods instead – right on the hare. At least, this was the plan; in practice, it somehow became the two of them each being pinned by the Indoraptor’s feet, and the dinosaur was openly inclined to play with his food before anything else.

Something burst squealing out of the undergrowth and charged at the Indorap-tor, head first – a juvenile, or even a really young, Pachycephalosaurus. It charged bravely at the much-taller dinosaur, who caught it with minimal effort with its’ forelimbs instead, and picked it off the ground, clearly intending to eat it.

The Pachycephalosaurus youngster realized that it was over its’ head immediately, and made a much louder, much more ear-piercing squeal, which carried much further than its’ previous cries did – and this shout was answered by a much lower, much deeper-set, much more familiar grunt, as a much bigger, much older, much more darkly colored Pachycephalosaurus – the original animal that’d helped Claire and Owen escape from their cell in the Lockwood manor basement – burst onto the scene, clearly intending of bursting the Indoraptor instead.

The Indoraptor was taller than the older bonehead was, but the latter was much more powerfully built… and the Indoraptor was not interested in fighting the other dinosaur at all, it seemed – rather, he was already fleeing, sending all of his previous captives flying involuntarily through the air, as the Indoraptor fled, and the older Pachy was following. The Indoraptor was daintily jumping from tree to tree, while the Pachy was just smashing into them, or rather through them, or perhaps – just smashing them into kindling and sawdust, it wasn’t important. What was important, however, was that it was unable to catch up to the Indoraptor, as the latter produced one final burst of speed, made his biggest jump yet, and grabbing Maisie, carried her – and Beta – out of the way, just as the Pachy continued in a straight line, racing almost a speed of light, smashing his way through several more of the obstacles, before vanishing in the distance, (it was strong, tough, and fast, not intelligent or observant, people!).

There was a silent pause, with the silence being broken only by the gentle rain of smashed truck parts finally raining down from the sky, sent there by Pachy’s ultimate smash attack. The raptors (all 3 of them) and Maisie watched this from a tree, Owen and Claire – from their porch, and Franklin and Zia – from their own vehicle, as they had just arrived at the place instead.

“…What has happened here?” Franklin channeled his captain Obvious, because of course he did.

“My latest employment was smashed by the dinosaurs,” a blonde-haired woman looked from behind yet another tree. Four raptor-like dinosaurs, bigger than Blue and Beta, but smaller than the Indoraptor looked out from there as well. “Hello, squirt.”

“Hello, Soyona,” Franklin replied in a weary tone of voice. “What foolishness did you enter now?”

“Eh,” the blonde-haired woman replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t ask. This sort of thing happens often?”

“Less so now that we know that the boneheaded dinosaurs cannot stand the smell of cannabis,” Franklin muttered back. “Do we need to contact the family lawyer?”
More pieces fell from the sky, going splat rather than clank now.

“Probably not,” the woman – Soyona – replied. “My boss and his paperwork became smashed, again. I really do not think that anything or anyone is left to connect me to Biosyn anymore-“

“Wait, wait!” Maisie called out from her perch in the raptors’ tree – she was not too fond of the new dinosaurs for now either. “What are you talking about-? Franklin?!”

Franklin emitted another long-suffering sigh. “Our father, the great Dr. Ian Malcolm, had had three wives through his life – officially, at least. Soyona is the only child from his first marriage.” The woman in question smiled. “From his second relationship there’s me and my only full-blooded sibling, Kelly, and from his third marriage, to Dr. Sarah Harding, there’re three children, our younger siblings, but we don’t talk to them too much, plus father and Sarah have their own issues-“

“He is working for Biosyn now as well,” Soyona said brightly. “Biosyn also wants Maisie to use her DNA to handle their giant mutant locusts, or some-thing along those lines-“

More pieces fell from the sky, making organic, rather than inorganic, sounds. Some of them were still identifiable as pieces of people rather than anything else, too. The raptors, both old and new, became clearly interested in the new development, in a certain manner.

“How is this our life?” Owen groaned. “Zia, please call the sheriff-“

An extra-big ‘organic piece’, still wearing a certain kind of hat, landed before him and Claire with an extra-big splat, not unlike that of a breaking melon. Only, it was not a melon.

“Oh, look, he’s here to begin with,” Claire sighed, as she looked at the part with the moustaches remaining. “Zia, call his deputy instead.

Zia shot one final glare at Soyona, who did not appear to be too intimidated by her. “Spunky little thing,” she told Franklin, “I’m thinking that father will approve-“

“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Franklin said faux-brightly. “She’s into women instead-“

“Want to introduce her to Kelly, then-?”

“Kelly’s straight, or at least – asexual,” Franklin sighed.

“Want to run her by dad-?”

“You know, I’m right here,” Zia snapped, sounding decidedly unamused at being mostly ignored now. “Can’t I decided whom to date?”

“That depends, how is it working out for you?” Soyona shot back, as she carefully made her way to the remaining truck, untouched by the dino charge, before pulling out several lots of food and a musical instrument, theoretically speaking. She began to make noises with it, and her four raptors promptly began to eat the food from the lots, making plenty of crunching sounds.

Blue blinked and made a sound. The four new dinosaurs abruptly stopped feeding and, shifting to face her, began to make sounds.

The Indoraptor disliked that – he rolled-up to his full height and began to make his own sounds. Things could have escalated, when-

“Stop!” Maisie said firmly, moving between the two groups. “Don’t!”

It was then that a small snow owl flew down from the roof of their home, and, landing upon Maisie’s head, spoke equally firmly: “Hoo-hoot!”

Beta blinked, and snapped at the owl; Blue – at Beta; the Indoraptor tried to pretend that he was not with them; the four new dinosaurs abruptly stopped being confrontational, (but were still hiding behind Soyona’s back – it was safer there, apparently); the tension ebbed.

The sheriff’s metal star landed on the ground with a clang and a thud, fortunately not hurting anyone, to further deepen the surreality of it all.

“How’d this became our life?” Claire asked no one in particular. “How?”

“Want to blame it all on the raccoon dogs?” suggested… Zia.

Claire just threw a shoe at her.

Notes:

Kelly was Malcolm's daughter in the 'Lost World: Jurassic Park' film. Remember her?

Chapter 8: Wesley and Lilah

Summary:

How about a crossover between MCU and 'Angel the Series' next?

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

Lilah Morgan woke up one morning, and frowned: something felt off. She looked outside through her window – it looked like a typical L.A. morning, but-

Slowly, Lilah opened the window. A blast of decidedly cold air, (in particular by the standards of L.A., California), hit her. She frowned: W&H usually didn’t mess with the weather, (for several reasons, including the fact that the entities who managed the weather didn’t like outsiders messing with it, and could cer-tainly do something about it in a manner that even the senior partners would feel it), but ‘usually’ didn’t mean ‘always’…

Slowly, she went over to her cell phone and laptop and checked for messages. There were no new messages… actually; her electronic devices were malfunctioning in a manner that they were not supposed to. Now quite convinced that something was quite wrong, Lilah opened the door to her apartment to first check at the firm, (and then bolt to her nearest hole with her metaphorical tail between her legs), and slammed into Wesley.

“Thank someone or something that you’re alive,” the ex-Watcher turned demon hunter (or something else, neither of them were too certain about this) exclaimed with a clear and visible relief.

“Yes, I am. Why shouldn’t I be?” Lilah slowly spoke, moving backwards – when people in her life (and work) began to talk openly about life and death, something bad and big was always coming, and Lilah would like to have some room to maneuver, in that case, if it turned personal-

“The Avengers failed to stop Thanos, half of the life as we know it, on a literal level, is completely gone,” Wesley replied matter of factly, (instead of doing anything else). “Are you ok?”

“No,” Lilah matched her (she was not entirely sure as to who Wesley was to her, but she was completely sure that he was hers) tone for tone. “Sun sets in the west, moon rises in the east, the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes, can’t fail – that was why Wolfram & Hart didn’t try to interact with them-“

“Oh, they didn’t fail,” Wesley said flatly, (as a Brit he had views about Americans, even the Avengers), “Thanos is still dead – they killed him. It’s just that he managed to accomplish his genocide all the same, you know?”

Lilah blinked and thought this over. “So, now what?” she asked, while sitting down onto one of her chairs.

“Um, given that magic – even the W&H levels of magic – was also affected, I managed to destroy your contract after all so now you’re really free,” Wesley replied in a cautious, (not very confident) tone of voice.

Lilah opened and closed her mouth as she thought long and hard about…oh, so many topics in her life, until she finally was able to settle down on one specific idea:

“Just how much has W&H made and remade me?” she paused. “That’s not what I meant to say!”

“Yes, I suspect so too,” Wesley agreed. “Let’s get out of L.A., first – neither W&H, nor the new Watchers’ Council will be too happy either with us or with our relationship.”

Lilah tried to think, but it was hard – her body instinctively was packing already, as she knew/suspected/hoped that this day would come, and she was prepared for it. “We’re going to my bolt hole in [insert your own city name here]. It’s the closest and the safest!”

“Done!” said Wesley and the duo left together, (with several briefcases and car-ry-ons, because of material-based reasons). It was some time, before their old ex-allies/enemies/other faces from their past found them, and by the time they did, Wesley and Lilah had their own people in their own corner – but that is another story…

Chapter 9: Luisa Madrigal gets a new special someone

Summary:

An Encanto... not quite AU, but something similar.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

The donkeys were feeling uppity this morning, apparently, and would not go to drink, and so Luisa Madrigal, as it was usual in the village, went to them to see what was going on, and to scare away any potential threats, because of the obvious reasons.

“Hey there, prima!” the youngest (and the smallest) Madrigal (up to date), Antonio, said brightly, as Luisa waved past him. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine, Antonio,” Luisa said with a smile, before her brain registered the rest of the scene. “And what is going on here?”

“Well, the triplets are the bush dogs,” Antonio shrugged, “and their friend,” he pointed in a direction of… a flash of golden-red in some bush, “is shy, is afraid of the new people, and is what is called a maned wolf. Anyhow, our jaguar friend up there,” he pointed up a tree, “began to harass him, because they’re new here, and the triplets chased him up a tree, and-“

A branch broke. Like all cats, jaguars land on their feet, of course, but Luisa still pulled Antonio out of the way, lest this jaguar landed on him instead. He had not but only because Luisa was ready and prepared, (hey, she was strong, not fast, by default).

There was a pause, which was not broken by anything, not even cat and dog violence, (the tropical American version).

“See, senor?” Antonio, bless his innocent young heart, told the jaguar. “The triplets weren’t going to hurt you to begin with; they just wanted to tell you off-!”

The awkward silence remained.

“Right, this is fun,” Luisa muttered with some reluctance, (she wasn’t worried about Antonio here, she just didn’t want to be on her own, in fact – right now, both Isabella and Mirabel were absent, doing their own thing, and this kind of hurt), “but I still need to go to the lake, to see what is wrong with the donkeys…”

“Oh, no problem, I’m coming with you to help!” Antonio said cheerfully. “See?” he pointed to his little red wagon with a big fishing bowl.

“…” Luisa blinked and said nothing. Therefore, she did what she normally did, when she was flat-footed – she acted… in this case by patting her primo on his head and walking towards the lake.

And the donkeys.

The latter, upon hearing Luisa’s approach, turned their heads – all at once, all of them at once – and brayed a greeting to her.

“Hello to you too!” Antonio said brightly.

The donkeys shouted-out again, almost as enthusiastically.

“Great!” Antonio had no trouble understanding them, because of his Gift, un-like Luisa. “So, what, or who, is bothering all of you?”

“Not me,” spoke a tall and shapely water nymph, as she lounged on a rock in the shallows. “It is the other new guys, see?” she pointed at another direction, where a dwarf caiman, (i.e. a small crocodile), was lying on the shoreline, snapping its’ teeth. Despite being small, (smaller than a donkey, in fact), its’ teeth were still sharp enough, and its’ jaws strong enough, to inflict some damage – say, on the soft nose of a donkey…

“Oh, thanks!” Antonio nodded sagely, (while Luisa just stared at the water nymph), as he trotted over to the caiman.

The caiman glared, and snapped its’ jaws. Antonio stopped, (but still didn’t look too worried), and began to explain to the small reptile that it is ok, they’re all friends here, the caiman shouldn’t be worried, and-

-and it was at this point that a vaquita, (a small porpoise) popped out of the wa-ter, and began to talk to Antonio in its’ own tongue.

(No, vaquitas don’t live in fresh water in real life, but what does real life have to do with Disney? Nothing and that is the point here).

“Oh! Cool! And don’t be worried,” Antonio moved closer to the mismatched duo of porpoise and caiman and began to talk to both of them, leaving Luisa and the water nymph on their own.

“…So, you’re new,” Luisa stated the obvious.

“Yes, I came through the new pass in the mountains,” the nymph agreed. “Hello?”

“”Right back at you,” Luisa glared at her, (well, tried to). It is hard to glare at water nymphs at a certain point, (due to a certain reason). “Behave here, or else-“

“Yes, your sister has already grown a giant Venus’-fly-trap over there to eat me if I don’t,” the water nymph grimaced, and sure enough, there was the giant plant in question, waving at her and Luisa from behind a tree (with a leafy ten-tacle). “But, hey, this isn’t a problem – I’ve switched her and your sister Mirabel’s faces, and now they, and your cousin Camillo, are pranking people in the village, so we’re all ok, for the moment.”

Luisa blinked and sat down. The nymph sat down to her; she was about as tall as Luisa was, but much slimmer, (among other things).

“I’m still the last one to know about anything,” Luisa muttered, as she carefully did not move away. One of the donkeys rubbed its’ muzzle against her side gently; the nymph carefully draped one of her arms around Luisa’s shoulders.

“Hee-haw!”

“The donkeys say not to get upset, because you’re still their nominate leader,” the nymph said carefully.

“Great,” Luisa felt as if she was at the end of her rope, “on top of everything, I’m still a-“

“-being of great tolerance, patience, and understanding, not to mention compassion?” the nymph spoke gently, (and she was quite beautiful, cough).

“Hee-haw!” the donkeys brayed in agreement.

“Oh. Not quite what I was going to say, but this is better,” Luisa blinked. “Want to stay here, in Encanto, for a while?”

“Yes please!” said the nymph, and this is what happened, (though she, as well as Isabella, Mirabel and Camillo had to apologize for all of the pranks to Abuela Alma and co. – but that is another story).

Notes:

Oi, Luisa deserves some recognition, though Antonio almost stole this tale...

Chapter 10: Of Damascen

Summary:

So, what'd happen to Damascen the giant and why did Nico and Will not encounter him? Well...

Notes:

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

…The next time the titan Iapetus slash Bob saw Damascen the giant, it was topside. “Iapetus! Or Bob! Whatever!” the latter spoke, quite happily. “You’ve made it! At last! My honest apologies regarding not getting you out alongside myself! Little Bob, the same goes for you – on the double!”

“You’re quite forgiven,” the titan (insert your own choice of his name here) replied magnanimously. “I’m sure that you had a good reason-“

“Nyx had blindsided me, pun unintended, and I had to think on my feet, something that I’m not so good at,” the giant replied.

“Oh,” Iapetus/Bob thought some more. “So how did you get out?”

“Um…”

 

Flashback!

“…You! You and your titan cohort think you are so smart by denying your true natures! Your original actual natures! Don’t you understand, titans and giants can’t just change themselves, they will still remain titans and giants, just insane ones,” Nyx ranted, as she worked herself into a state, and given that she was the primordial deity here, (and one of the more powerful ones), it was bad news for the giant.

(Part of the reason as to why the giants tend to boss over the smaller beings such as the mortals, is because many of the immortals/other supernatural be-ings tend to boss over them easily enough, and this can rankle after a while. Here, however…)

“And you’ve slept with Zeus – I can smell him on you,” Damascen grunted sharply.

Nyx immediately stopped ranting and shot the giant a look that could have killed him on the spot – but did not. “What?” she asked quietly, broadcasting via her body language that Damascen should shut-up – but he did not.

“Giant,” he said simply. “Sensing the King Thunderer is a preservation strategy for me. Moreover, I do not know when and where he had his way with you, and I do not care. Instead, how about you let me go, and I’ll swear upon the river Styx that I’ll never tell anyone about this-?”

“Or how about,” Nyx’s icy fury didn’t abate one jot, as she grabbed Damascen by his neck, “I-“

“No,” spoke someone else, as they sashayed from behind Nyx, and they smelled of Zeus as only his children could, (half-mortal or otherwise).

“No?” Nyx shifted to look at the newcomer.

“No,” the newcomer replied, as they – she – also took Damascen by the neck; the two grips were pretty much of equal strength – but whereas Nyx’s grip was icily cold (to put it lightly), the other grip was more like one of Zeus’s thunderbolts. Not a good experience for any giant to have, by a wide margin, i.e.

“We’ll take the deal,” the newcomer continued.

“Melinoe,” Nyx exhaled.

“Mama Nyx,” the newcomer – Melinoe – replied. “Come on, please!”

“Fine,” Nyx relented first, before both of them shifted their attention back to the giant. (The family resemblance between the two entities was quite evident, but whereas Nyx was all black with some white star spots upon her, Melinoe was black and white like a checkered board, and the black and white spots were constantly shifting). “We accept your offer, but if you regress, you’ll more than just regret it-“

 

Flash-forward!

“I’m sorry, but I did swear upon the river Styx that I can’t ever reveal it,” Damascen told Iapetus/Bob, “and I’m quite confident that breaking this oath will be more than merely bad – much more.”

“Deals with the primordials often are,” the titan agreed.

“Want to stop Little Bob from eating all of the Canada geese out there instead?”

“Quite so,” the titan again agreed, and this was what the two of them did. (Sort of. Little Bob was a cat, whatever else he was, and cats are very hard dissuade from anything that they want to do, so very quickly the titan and the giant had to get Nico and Will to help them out, again, but that was another story).

Notes:

A/N In Greek myths, Melinoe is a daughter of Zeus and Nyx (or Persephone), so that is canon. Sort of?

Chapter 11: Settling things with Hazel

Summary:

So, what about Hazel? In fact, she's upset that Nico and Will didn't ask her and Frank to come along.

Notes:

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

…The next time Will and Nico saw Hazel, (and Frank), the latter was more than a little angry.

“You!” she told Nico furiously, “and you!” she turned to Will.

“What did we do?” Nico all but wailed because family, (and irate family at that).

“Didn’t take us on your quest to the Underworld,” Hazel spoke with a lot of bitterness.

“Um, yeah. What’s the point?” Nico asked, even as Will face-palmed behind him.

Hazel seemed to inflate herself in a literal physical way.

“…He isn’t trying to annoying, he really is this obtuse,” Will spoke quickly before the situation deteriorated even further. “He’s like this with me too, sometimes. And Nico, Hazel is hurt that we didn’t take her to the Underworld because Lord Hades is her father too, and she’s your family as well, remember?”

There was a pause, as Hazel glared in a piercing way at Nico, and the elder (illegitimate) child of Hades/Pluto went through several shades and colors without magic or any other supernatural source.

“…Hazel,” he finally managed, “I’m sorry. I just – cracked. I did not even wanted to bring Will with me at first, I am not particularly good at working with other people, demigods or not. I dropped the ball on this one, haven’t I?”

“Mmm,” Hazel muttered, looking only partially mollified. “I know that when there’s the next world-ending emergency, and Lord Apollo isn’t the one to fix it, you’ll come and get us-“

“Totally!” Nico said, which was when Frank arrived, carrying a bag from a pharmacy…

“Frank, dude, what’s in the bag?” Nico asked flatly.

“Nico, bro, don’t go here, not today and not now,” Hazel matched him tone for tone; the family resemblance was quite evident in both of them, (and somewhere in the Underworld, Hades felt a surge of family pride for no specific rea-son), and the fact that both of them were quite angry at each other was obvious. “Percy and Annabeth are already doing it-“

“Or what?” Nico did not know how to read the room today, it seemed. “Percy and Annabeth are older than all of us are, too!”

One of Hazel’s eyelids twitched. She gestured, not unlike how Nico used to summon skeletons to do his bidding. Only, since Hazel’s power was different, what appeared instead was a vaguely humanoid construct, made out of crystals and gems, with really big arms and fists.

“Smite him!” she pointed at Nico.

Nico just shrieked, grabbed Will, and the duo fled through New Rome, pursued by Hazel’s not-quite-a-golem.

“…Dude, you know that if you sliced off just a few… slices with your sword, we’d be able to cover the annual budget for Camp Half-Blood for the next few months?” Will commented after several moments of running around the city.

“And ruin my relationship with Hazel even more?” Nico replied. “Besides, Chiron would never agree to this sort of thing – I don’t think that he fully trusts the Romans still.”

“Ah, good point.”

Notes:

Indeed, Hazel is Nico's closest living demigod relative and all - she (and Frank) really should've been mentioned in 'Sun and Star' at least.

Chapter 12: Once more with Tai Lung (Kung Fu Panda 4)

Summary:

Tai Lung is back among the living - again.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

The next time Zhen met Tai Lung, it was on the Astral plane, as she was beginning to master the basics of meditation under the tutelage of Po and Master Shifu. (She was just getting started on her journey in regards to the martial arts’ mastery).

“Hello there,” she politely told the snow leopard, (whom she only met during the entire fracas with the final showdown with the Chameleon). “I’m looking for Master Oogway-“

“He’s busy yelling at the Chameleon,” the snow leopard curtly replied to the corsac fox. “Please come back later.”

“…Why?”

“Because she tried to steal martial arts via arcane sorcery, and that is just wrong,” Tai Lung explained (somewhat) with a sigh. “Learning martial arts the old fashion way is ok. Learning arcane sorcery instead of martial arts is ok. Us-ing arcane sorcery to steal martial arts is not ok.”

“…Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to your foster parent it wasn’t, apparently, and that is why Master Oogway is yelling at her,” Tai Lung explained patiently. “This sort of thing is what actually annoys him, and the fact that they apparently knew each other when they both were a lot younger isn’t helping his disposition either.”

“Oh,” Zhen blinked. “Well, do you have any spiritual wisdom for me?”

“Yeah. There are no shortcuts. You have to grease your elbows if you are to master the martial arts. How high do you want to go is another thing, and it depends only on you. Heart and head are both required, anything below the waistline is optional.”

“Oi! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Po, the Dragon Warrior, chose the moment to join in the conversation.

“Master Viper and her fiancé – the dead know more than the living do, you know?”

“Yes, that I do – I kind of been dead myself during the entire mess with Kai for a while,” Po replied, somewhat crossly (by his standards). “Also – good point, I and the Furious Five kind of drifted apart lately, again.” He paused. “And how are you, Tai Lung?”

“Dead – again,” the snow leopard shot the giant panda a big flat look. “Honestly, this switching between states of existence is becoming king of annoying…”

“Oh, allow me to help you, then!” Master Oogway appeared from behind Tai Lung.

“Help me with what?” Tai Lung asked suspiciously – he never liked the old tortoise (or turtle) too much, moral alignment issues or not.

“To move on, since you finally understood the right lesson and have applied it correctly!” Master Oogway replied joyfully. “Also, Master Shifu could use your company in his twilight years-“

“I do?” Master Shifu spoke up (on the Astral plane) for the first time.

The venerable tortoise gave the red panda a good hard look. “This is also a reason as to why Tai Lung grew up as flawed as he had,” Oogway told his junior kung-fu master flatly, (and no, it was not Po). “In fact, he certainly could’ve gone worse, though on a greater scale, his initial selfishness, callowness, and entitlement had done plenty of damage. But,” Oogway softened his voice somewhat, “ironically, he had repented post-life, if not during it, and given everything that had happened afterwards, between Kai’s mischief and now the Chameleon’s necromancy, he actually earned a new chance. Don’t waste it, both of you,” he told no one in particular, and gave Tai Lung a good kick in the tail. (Only not exactly).

“Ouch!” said Tai Lung, as everyone else winced in sympathy…and everyone found themselves alive and not on the Astral plane, Tai Lung included.

“Oh good, here we go again,” Tai Lung muttered, (sounding somewhere be-tween happy and irritated), and fainted.

So’d Master Shifu.

“Does this sort of thing happen usually?” Zhen asked Po instead.

“Is today Friday?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Then yes, totally.”

“Oh.”

Chapter 13: Of Spinosaurus and Bowerbird.

Summary:

Back to JP-fandom.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

There was once a satin bowerbird, who, like all the other satin bowerbirds of the male gender, liked to collect everything that was blue in color for his bower to impress the ladies. So far so good, but in this particular story he was having a bit of a dry spell, (by his standards, anyhow), and needed to go further afield than normal in order to find them.

Consequently, since he was, well, a bird, (and not of the ostrich variety that actually cannot fly), off he flew.

He flew, and he flew, and he flew, until he found a great big pile of blue things. Most of them were much too big for him, but some were just the right size. (Satin bowerbirds are about the size of a crow). Therefore, he eagerly began to extract and plug the latter objects, when –

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

- Someone, louder and bigger than he was, asked him.

The satin bowerbird turned around and faced… Spinosaurus. The latter was eying the bowerbird in a not-too-friendly manner either.

“Oh! Hello! Is this your pile of blue things?” the bowerbird asked brightly.

“Yes. What are you doing with it?” Spinosaurus repeated his question.

“Oh! Um! I was taking bits and pieces from it that are too small for you for myself?” the bowerbird replied, even as the latter realized that he did sound not quite correct here, so he tried to amend his immediate statement. “I mean, come on, we’re in two different weight categories completely here, the stuff I need isn’t the stuff you need at all-“

“Fine, take, it,” Spinosaurus said flatly, “but it’s one time only, and only because you do have a point here. Otherwise-“

“Sure, sure, got it!” said the bowerbird, got his portion of the overall loot together and flew back to his bower. Once there, he quickly arranged his new belongings in an aesthetically pleasing way and waited for the females of his species to arrive. The latter did so soon enough, not just because that his bower was that great, (but it was), but also because with the Spinosaurus nest in the neighbourhood, the female bowerbirds were quite certain that they would be able to raise a safe family here with less harassment from various carnivores than elsewhere, (and they were correct).

The Spinosaurus family, incidentally, also flourished well enough, because they were the biggest animals in this part of the world, and no one wanted to harass them, not even Rexy and her new posse – it really was not worth it.

Therefore, Dr. Wu and his mad scientific genius on one hand, and by Lewis Dodgson and his sprouting Napoleonic complex on the other, made this story possible for you. Isn’t bending and twisting the laws of ecology and nature fun?

Notes:

Hey, Spinosaurus may not exactly be JP-canon right now, but they can still be around there somewhere!

Chapter 14: One night in Wakanda (drabble)

Summary:

One final drabble about Bucky and Shuri.

Notes:

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

It was dark, it was night, Bucky Barnes – currently of Wakanda – was sitting in his Wakanda home, and listening – on one hand – to T’Challa (in his Black Panther role) argue with Shuri about all sorts of things, including their family values and relationships, and – on the other – to a couple of bat-eared foxes doing each other on his property. By the standards of the Winter Soldier/White Wolf, it was mild stuff.

Abruptly the foxes stopped mating and glared at Bucky in a rather human manner.

“You don’t happen to be working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and Fury, are you?” Bucky asked them wryly.

The foxes froze, blinked, looked at each other, looked at Bucky, and vanished as quickly as it was physically possible for them.

Bucky blinked.

“Ahem,” Shuri called out to him. “Earth to Bucky-!”

“Sorry dear, what is it?” the Winter Soldier responded automatically.

Shuri turned red, (in a manner of speaking).

“Um, you’re invited to the palace tomorrow-“ T’Challa said instead.

“Formally or informally, front entrance or somehow else?” Bucky was doing well here, apparently.

T’Challa stiffened and began to think hard again.

“He’ll be like this for a while now,” Shuri muttered, as she sat down next to him. “If only father hadn’t died – everything would be different now…”

“Mmm,” Bucky nodded sagely. “Did you know that those two bat-eared foxes that we’ve been seeing around lately just might be working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“What?”

End

Notes:

A/N - this is it for this set of drabbles, I believe.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15 (AoS)

Summary:

Just a stand-alone short story, make your own back story here.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

The night was light, but moonless, the sky – studded with stars, the stripe immediately over the horizon was beginning to light-up from the rising sun, and Phil Coulson and Grant Ward fell from the sky – through a hole in the sky – and into a pond with a splash.

“This is really not how I imagined my day today would go,” Ward said flatly to the older man as the pair spat duckweed and pulled it off their ears, while the various frogs were making a chorus of various noises as an echo for them. “Any ideas what Fitz and Simmons have done this time?”

“…I’m still not talking to you,” Coulson did not sound any friendlier than how Ward did. “After everything that went down-“

There was another splash. Both men instinctively looked in that direction, and-

“Isn’t this the deputy director Hill?” Ward blinked as he and Coulson helped the female agent out of the deeper part of the frog pond. “What is she doing here?”

“I’ve no idea, and I have no idea as to what the FitzSimmons did this time,” Coulson confessed as the two of them carried Maria Hill to dry land. “Maria, you okay?”

Maria half-spat and half-vomited a large amount of dirty water. “No,” she croaked. “Who’s behind them – I mean, this?”

Ward and Coulson looked at each other, as surprisingly neither wanted to give up the FitzSimmons to their superior at S.H.I.E.L.D. when a yelp came off to their side and from the sky. Silently, Ward, Coulson, and Hill watched as Melinda May came hurling down from the sky, flailing her limbs and yelling off the top of her lungs as if she was a straw puppet (or something along those lines).

Ward, Coulson and Hill blinked, looked at each other, looked at the haystack that May was apparently falling onto, saw the hayfork that was still stuck in it, and raced to pull it out, before the Cavalry landed. They accomplished it too, just in time, for the Sino-American woman to land safely with a thump.

“You alright?” Coulson asked May gently, even as he and Hill helped her to stand up, and Ward brought her water from a nearby well to drink.

“Yes-no-what kind of question is that?” Melinda snapped in a decent imitation of her trademark style, even as she gratefully drank the water – slowly, but surely. “Who’s behind all of this?”

Coulson looked at Ward, who shrugged. “The FitzSimmons,” Coulson admitted reluctantly, even as he pointed back at the frog pond, where the FitzSimmons landed with their own (combined) splash, and were now emerging onto the dry land from the cattails and reeds.

“What? Why them-!” Hill snapped and marched over to them. “Well, what was the idea behind this, this time?”

“We wanted to make our own pocket dimension?” Fitz said brightly, before Simmons slammed his mouth shut.

“I see, and do you remember S.H.I.E.L.D.’s rules and regulations about this?” Hill glared at the young couple, who began to change several colours in a completely mundane way as they realized that they were in trouble for a completely mundane (For S.H.I.E.L.D., anyway), reason.

Meanwhile, Ward, Coulson and the Cavalry looked at each other as they tried to figure out what to do next. Fortunately, (in a manner of speaking), this question was answered as they noticed yet another flailing (and wailing) figure falling down, from the sky – and into the nearby forest. Without hesitation or discussions, the trio raced off – and found Skye slash Daisy Johnson, hanging off from a tree branch, clearly upset and miserable from this ordeal of hers. Humiliated too, most likely, and the fact that Ward and Cavalry had to scale the tree and shake her down into Coulson’s arms did not make her feel any better. Well, no, it actually did, but also didn’t – Daisy’s feelings towards her father figure were confusing, after all.

“So, who’s behind this?” she asked Coulson (while not looking at Ward, because of reasons).

“The FitzSimmons. This is their pocket universe, apparently. S.H.I.E.L.D. dis-approves of this, so deputy director Hill is yelling at them,” Coulson helpfully replied.

“Oh,” but before Skye could continue, Ward reached out, and caught a falling… Raina, of all people.

“Thanks, bro-bro,” the mixed-origins woman said brightly. “What is going on?”

“The FitzSimmons made this pocket universe, but they hadn’t mastered it yet,” Ward shrugged. “Any signs of Tripp?”

“Yes, I saw him land over there, in the meadow,” Raina nodded. “See?” The others looked, and indeed, there was agent Tripp, sitting among the green grasses, rubbing his lower back and looking rather worse for wear indeed.

“Oh dear,” Coulson looked at the others, and they slowly made their way out of the forest and into the open meadow. “Tripp, how are you?”

“Better than I expected to be,” the Afro-American man nodded sagely. “You?”

“Eh, been better,” Coulson admitted, while everyone just nodded along. “The FitzSimmons are behind this, in fact – this is their pocket dimension, and Hill is yelling at them-“

“Glad to hear this,” Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., spoke sagely, even as he walked over to his underlings, looking almost as bad and ruffled as Tripp was. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has rules and regulations against pocket dimensions for reasons, and the FitzSimmons just reminded many people as to why.”

“Yes sir,” everyone just nodded along. “How do we-“

The sky exploded in white before the question could be finished, and everyone found themselves back on the Helicarrier, back in their own dimension. “Fitz, Simmons, you’re grounded,” Fury said flatly, and the young couple did not argue. “The rest of you – get back to your duties, I’ll deal with all of you later!”

And everybody else complied.

End

Chapter 16: JW reshuffled

Summary:

In honor of the new JWE dinosaur release, here's something of a story featuring some of them.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

Across the multiverse…

 

“...Just what are those dinosaurs?” Mr. Masrani asked, as he, Claire, Owen, (and the four raptors), were observing the new arrivals at the Triceratops’ enclosure. “And I don’t mean the Triceratops – even I know that one.”

“That, the raptors, and the T-Rex,” Owen muttered to Claire, but not too loudly, both because Mr. Masrani was their boss, and because he was asking Dr. Wu, and no one really liked Dr. Wu, neither human, nor dinosaur, nor anyone else.

Claire just shot Owen a look in reply, but did not say anything, while Dr. Wu-

“Oh, those are the Microceratus,” he said in reply.

“Which are-?” Mr. Masrani was not mollified by Dr. Wu’s reply at all.

“Distant cousins of the Triceratops, created specifically for the petting zoo and the pet trade,” Dr. Wu elaborated, finally sensing that he was in the proverbial fire, so to speak. “It was your request, in fact-“

“Perhaps, but I didn’t ask you to make a dinosaur version of the parakeet-“

“The lovebird parrot, actually-“

“What was that?”

‘That’ was actually the I-Rex, deciding to make this AU a proper AU after all, by bursting out of her enclosure before the canon timeline events, and going straight for the humans, the raptors and the other dinosaurs – and among the other dinosaurs there were the Microceratus, who took one good whiff of the new arrival and squeaked really, really loudly. The Triceratops herd got on their collective feet, took one good look-sniff of the I-Rex for themselves, and charged it, horns ready to stab.

The I-Rex is an I-Rex in any universe, but a Triceratops is a dinosaur that can fight off a T-Rex in a one on one fight, and a herd of them is something that no dinosaur carnivore wants to tackle – ever. The I-Rex took one good look at the charging mass of horns, frills, and hooves, and abruptly fled from them.

The Triceratops, of course, were not mollified, and gave chase. Soon, the I-Rex was bleeding from several wounds, and it dove into an oversized swimming pond, cough.

“Is it the one with the Mosasaur?” Owen could not help but to ask.

Before anyone else could answer, the I-Rex jumped back out, or tried to, as the giant Megalodon shark biting its’ tail was interfering.

“Um, no?” Dr. Wu suggested the obvious. “Hey, Mr. Masrani wanted a solid heavy hitter, and what could trump a giant shark?”

“A T-Rex?”

“We already have one of those, and do you really think that it can defeat a giant shark in a fight? The I-Rex cannot, apparently-“

“We’re helping!” Claire protested, pointing at the JP’s new security force, which, armed with Tasers, shockers, and the like, did their best to separate the I-Rex from the Megalodon. The giant shark was not cooperating, but fortunately¸ it was not quite as tough as the Megalosaurus would have been, and so the I-Rex was able to escape – this time. “See?”

“See what?”

“That we’ve freed the I-Rex-?”

A certain sound shook the air. It was Toro, the Carnotaurus-hummingbird hybrid of Dr. Wu. It flew through the air like a Carnotaurus-sized hummingbird, farted over the I-Rex’s head and flew on. The I-Rex roared, shifted around, scattering the humans trying to restrain it and jumped after the other hybrid. It missed Toro by a large margin, and fell back into the pool with the Megalodon. Things went downhill from there.

“Next time, make a smarter hybrid. Or something else entirely!” Mr. Masrani snapped.

“Will do,” Dr. Wu nodded solemnly, and indeed – the next time, instead of an upgraded I-Rex, Mr. Masrani and co. got several segisaurs, as well as a pair of Thanatodrakon, (i.e. a South American analogue of Quetzalcoatlus). Mr. Masrani was not happy that he and the park were stuck with the original, (inferior?) I-Rex, but that was another story…

Chapter 17: How Neji-san met Tobi-sama

Summary:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

Notes:

Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, but belong to their respective owners.

Once upon a time, when Hyuuga Neji-sama was feeling particularly depressed, he secretly left the territory of Konoha proper and went to the nearby mountains to... complain, in a manly way, because anything else would've been unworthy of a Hyuuga-nin.

"Why does my life suck?" Neji-san asked the nearby mountain rocks. "Why am I destined to servitude to my cousins, Hinata and Hanabi?" (Usually, of course, the honorific –sama would be right there by their names, but in privacy of his lonely spot, Neji felt that the honorific can be neglected on occasion.) "Why has my father died and I am unable to do anything about it for all of the Academy's accolades on my behalf? Why am I so miserable and that waste of space, Rock Lee, so happy?"

"Tobi doesn't know, but Tobi is a good boy!" and a shinobi wearing a black robe with crimson clouds and a orange, whirlpool mask with a single eye-opening landed before Neji, his physical prowess belied by the strange responses. "Oh, wait, Tobi knows why the funny nin is so... not funny!"

"My name," Neji-san said with his family's dignity fully behind him, "is Hyuuga Neji-sama, Mr... Tobi, right?"

"Right-right! Tobi is a good boy!" the stranger said with excitement.

"And that's why you are so happy?" Neji-san couldn't help but ask.

"No! Oh, no-no-no!" Tobi shook his head. "Tobi is happy for the opposite reason why Mr. Hyuuga Neji-sama is so upset!"

"And why am I so upset?" Hyuuga Neji-san asked, arching one of his eyebrows (quite masterfully, too), "Mr. Tobi, do tell."

"Because – of honour!" Tobi said loudly.

"Say what?" that was one thing Mr. Neji-san hadn't expected. "What are you babbling about?"

"Ah, honour is strange like that," Tobi replied in a sing-song voice. "Can honour heal an arm? No! And a leg? No! Can it bring Mr. Neji-sama's father from the dead? No! Can it raise him over his cousins all by itself? Nope, not really. Can it make him happy? Apparently not, for else Mr. Neji-sama wouldn't be talking in the desolate wilderness, talking to Tobi for all of Tobi's boyish goodness, yup-yup! And that's that!"

"Aha," Mr. Neji-san said flatly. "And if I were to relinquish my honour, would I be happy? I'm guessing that Mr. Tobi doesn't know about the seals of the Hyuuga Branch family?"

"Well know," Tobi said almost thoughtfully, "this sounds like a challenge. Tell me, Mr. Hyuuga-san, if Tobi were to free you of your seal, will you give Tobi your honour and follow Tobi to true happiness?"

It should be pointed-out at this moment that Mr. Hyuuga Neji-san was somewhat headstrong and stubborn by the standards of his fellow shinobi of Konoha, therefore-

"I'll take this bet," he almost growled, as he bent forwards and looked Tobi straight in the eye. "Bring it!"

"Tobi is a good boy!" Tobi said cheerfully, just before – "Sharingan!"

And the world dropped from beneath Hyuuga Neji-san's feet.

To be continued?

Notes:

Tobi's views on honor were influenced by Shakespeare's character Jack Falstaff.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18 (AoS)

Summary:

Just another AoS drabble, hadn't written any of them lately, (or written anything lately for that matter).

Notes:

Disclaimer; I don't own any characters here.

Once upon a time, Daisy ‘Quake’ Johnson was having a bad day, in a generic, non-specific sort of manner. “Do you feel as if we’re sometimes just characters in a badly written TV series?” she asked the FitzSimmons during a routine medical check-up. (All agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. had such check-ups on a regular schedule).

“Yes, that, or an even more poorly written comic book series,” Jemma Simmons agreed. “We all have had days like those – everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. have had days like those, it’s a part of being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, you know?”

Daisy blinked and thought about this, a bit. “Right, I see,” she told no one in particular, not even the FitzSimmons, and quietly left their (medical) office and went into her van, (it was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. now, at least on some level), and closed the van’s doors.

For a while, she was all by herself, (which was how Daisy wanted it to be, honestly), and then Melinda knocked on the van’s door. “You ok?” she called out to the younger woman.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Daisy called back. “Why, do I need to go on a mission or something?”

“No, I just wanted to check-up on you,” Melinda spoke in a careful manner.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“I’ve no idea,” Daisy replied still from inside her van. “Isn’t it a regular occurrence in S.H.I.E.L.D. or something?”

“Yes, but,” Melinda drummed her fingers on the side of the van and went to Phil Coulson to confer. Unfortunately, the latter was busy with Namorita of all people, discussing something that the two of them have done in Armenia of all places, and so he was not really interested in dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s minutae, not even for Daisy, (at the moment. Later on, it could be different, but right now – no) - he delegated them to Melinda instead.

“Right,” Melinda May - the woman in question - nodded to herself, and went to converse with the FitzSimmons, but the two scientists were absent for some reasons of their own, and Melinda was not too comfortable in conversing with their replacements, so off she went. Back to the van, where Daisy was still staying, incidentally.

“Can I come in?” she asked the younger woman, “unless you now got company of your own-?”

“No,” Daisy opened the front door. “Why do you want to come in?”

“Let’s go for a ride, and not on S.H.I.E.L.D. business,” Melinda told Daisy. “Just off the record or something, eh?”

“Why? What for? It’s not as if Ward’s alive or anything,” Daisy muttered.

Melinda just nodded sagely. “Let’s go and check out if this state of affairs is true for ourselves?” she suggested instead… and this what the two women did. In Daisy’s van too, and what did they find? That is another story.

End?

Chapter 19: Chapter 19 (AoS)

Summary:

Another AoS (and Avengers') based chapter.

Notes:

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

Once upon a time, Natasha the Black Widow was writing one of her regular letters to her pen pal, Ms. Jane Marple of England, when who should pass her by, but Grant Douglas Ward, one of her fellow agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., and give her a look.

“Just what are you doing?” he asked the senior agent (aka Natasha Romanoff).

“Writing a letter to a friend of mine,” Natasha replied curtly.

“Does Fury approve?” Kara Palamas, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s’ agent 33 peeked from behind Ward.

“If he doesn’t, he hasn’t made it clear,” Natasha replied evenly enough – some things in S.H.I.E.L.D. were on an obvious level, and director Fury’s general awareness of everything was one of them. “Shouldn’t you be with agent Morse?” she asked both of the other agents in general.

“She’s busy with Lance Hunter over there,” Kara pointed towards the bigger blonde-haired woman who was sitting next to some bearded man… and glaring at Clint and Laura Barton across the room.

“Why?” Natasha could not help but to ask. “He seems to be new, not yet an agent-“

“Because,” Grant said sourly, “he has a magical-“

…Natasha blinked. “What did you say?” she asked.

Kara repeated in lieu of Grant. Natasha blinked, looked, and saw that Laura was looking especially hostile at Bobbi, and Clint looked especially interesting at the new arrival.

“…Right,” Natasha blinked as she realized that she really did not want to get involved here. “Shouldn’t Hill, or Fury, be the one to pull them apart?”

Before either Grant or Kara could reply, another couple of agents – much younger, perhaps even cadets – appeared on the scene and went directly to Natasha. “Can we hide behind you, please?”

“Why?” Natasha blinked, when another agent appeared on the scene – a woman of mixed origins.

“Bro-bro, Kara,” she said, almost wailing, “the FitzSimmons have killed my unkillable cactus! Unintentionally! Can you restrain them? I’ll make them into half-human half-animal hybrids in return!”

“Um, no,” Grant shook his head. “Rae-Rae, please!”

Raina puffed her cheeks and stumped her feet. Natasha, who was still positioned between her and the other two agents, felt a headache coming on… when sounds of fighting broke out from behind them. She – and the others – looked in that direction, and sure enough, the Bartons were fighting Bobbi and her new friend.

“…This is certainly not the Red Room,” Natasha muttered to no one in particu-lar, (quietly, so that no one else would really hear her, as she did not want that). “This is much better and humane. I’ve really made the right choice.”

End

PS: And Fury arrived on the scene soon enough and fixed everything, as he tended to do through his sheer presence of personality – but that is another story.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20 (WV/AAA)

Summary:

When everything is over...

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here, and this is pure speculation, anyhow.

…As the reunited twins continued to prance around each other in genuine happiness at their reunion, Agatha felt something like a twinge of jealousy.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered to no one in particular, “I-“

“Everyone knows just what and who you are,” Wanda Maximoff, the twins’ mother and the Scarlet Witch, commented nonchalantly, as she wrapped one of her hands around the older witch’s shoulders, grabbing her gently by the neck. “Agatha Harkness, you’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“…Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Agatha finally managed to speak, both literally and metaphorically, as she tried to shake the other woman off, (but failing).

“I’m a nexus being, as well as the Scarlet Witch,” Wanda replied grandly, (but still quietly enough as not to disturb the twins), giving Agatha a look. “States of existence for me are something else.”

“That’s nice, but I still succeeded, I still walked the Witches’ Road – with your son, incidentally – and got my powers back-“

“Yes, save what you’ve been siphoning off the Sea Serpent,” Wanda smiled without any friendship. “That I ended.”

“Why?”

“Because I was asked to,” Wanda said flatly. “Not everything in a witch’s world has to be a power grab and backstabbing, Agatha.”

“It isn’t,” Agatha exhaled, as she looked around. Someone was moving around the shadows – several someone, in fact. “I know this-“

“Then why everything between you and me was one, the other, or both?” Wanda sighed. “Seriously, you saw that I was going insane, that I was abusing the people of West View, and etc., and instead of fixing me, or trying to, you just tried to drain me of my power, even capturing my boys at one point, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Agatha muttered, (not very convincingly), while scuffing one of her shoes on the floor. “Really.”

“And I believe you, truly,” Wanda nodded sagely. “That said, Agatha, you could’ve changed into someone better-“

“I’m fine the way I am-!”

“-the members of your new coven don’t think so,” Wanda finished, as she pointed in the direction, where 3 or 4 zombie witches, (or witchy zombies?) were moving forwards, with a certain purpose in their minds.

Agatha groaned and knocked her head on a nearby tree. “You won’t let your boys get caught in the splash zone,” she came up with something.

“I won’t,” Wanda made an arcane gesture. “Next idea?”

“I don’t need to make new ideas, I just need to get going,” Agatha sighed as she prepared to do just that. “And tell Rio-“

“-Rio is being chewed-up by her own ex-boss for leaving me to deal with her job,” Wanda said conversationally, “the current Green witch is explaining to miss Rosenberg why the latter shouldn’t tear her a new one.”

“Her old one works just fine!” Agatha muttered, as she abruptly cast a spell of her own. “Now excuse me, I need to help her!” She stepped through a portal and was gone.

Wanda just snorted in authentic amusement and went on with her own plan.

End

Chapter 21: Herons (LotR)

Summary:

Just a brief Tolkien-based drabble about Sauron. Also - birds.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

Across the multiverse…

Once upon a time, there was a war of wrath.

And the Valar burned the strongholds of Morgoth in the North to the ground.

And little was left of it, but ashes. …Ok, ashes, and the survivors, fleeing to all the four corners of the Middle-Earth.

And the Valar, the Maiar, and the rest of their allies were about to pursue them, when something else arose from the ashes: a flock of birds, long-necked, long-limbed, long-beaked, with large wings, clad in feathers of ash-grey. The birds circled once, twice, three times over the remnants of Morgoth’s fallen fortress and flew away, across the Middle-Earth, for they were the first herons of this world.

The Valar and the Maiar, (in particular, the Maia who would be later known as Radagast the Brown), just stared at the open-mouthed and open-eyed, for this was the first good news since Morgoth was defeated for good now. And as they stared and discussed among themselves the new development, someone else made good on their escape – Sauron, (of course).

“Well, this was a lark,” he thought to himself, as he made his own way across Middle-Earth, to his own secret hideout, (unknown to anyone else, good or bad). “Now it’s off to execute my next plan – one to take over the world!

End

Chapter 22: Movind Day

Summary:

Based on various mythologies here.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

Scylla is bored.

It has been ages since anyone has come her way, and she is bored. No ships, no sea creatures, no nothing. Her lair is empty and cold, the waters around dead and devoid of life even more than the usual. She is rather hungry.

Something approaches.

A ship. The flag is different – not one of the Greek city-states or islands, but rather a Trojan one. Were not there rumors of something happening with the city of Troy? Whatever; the wind spirits, the Anemoi, tend to avoid the great she-dragon and her lair just as everyone else, even though they have nothing to fear from her…

The Trojan ship is entering her lair. No torches, no offerings, no anything. Fools. Scylla is moving forth immediately; the ship’s captain is moving to meet her, (to greet her) – too late. There are no torches.

There is Athena – Athena – in front of the captain, and in her arms, there is the head.

THE head.

The one and only Medusa’s head.

Scylla is vast. Scylla is mighty. Scylla’s primary head looks at Medusa’s eye-to-eye. There is no second chance, no anything. She begins to petrify even as she flails and tries to move away using the last actual moments of her life. It is too late. All she does is bring the lair down upon her in one last defiant- desperate move.

When the waters settle and the stone dust sinks, all that is left standing among the ruins of Scylla’s lair is… a sea-cliff. A giant and solid sea-cliff surrounded by reefs – sharp dragon fangs… sharp petrified dragon fangs. The gods carried their promise – Scylla is gone, petrified, her story ended.

No!

It cannot end like this!

Scylla’s semi-blind bulging eyes open as she wakes abruptly, with a start, and instinctively bursts through the opening of her lair in a mess of heads and claws and other body parts.

Outside, it is sunlight, it is daytime, but Helios the sun god has not noticed Scylla yet – hooray for something at least.

…In fact, there he is, flying on his chariot west, as he always does, (right?). Scylla… has no ideas. She just follows, swimming with all strength that she is capable of, doing her best to avoid her fate…

Scylla is many things. Nearly blind is one of them. She can distinguish light from darkness, but little else, and certainly not colors. She literally doesn’t understand, that she is swimming through black waters, through green, through indigo, blue, and purple; she’s only aware that it is harder and harder to swim, for the first time in her life she’s exhausted, and… she doesn’t want to end up as a sea cliff, so she pushes on.

Abruptly, the pressure ends, she can see colors once more, the water is different, somehow, (warmer and more inviting) and she peeks upwards, through the water’s surface.

Helios is there, on foot, talking to some stranger, (but then again, Scylla does not know many people).

“Hello!” she calls out through her primary head. (It is the only one that can re-ally speak, anyhow).

“Hello,” the stranger replies, looking down and reaching down to tickle one of Scylla’s secondary heads on the chin. She slaps him.

“Hands off!” she snaps. “I speak only with this head!”

“You do?” the stranger asks, “she-dragon?”

“Yes!” Scylla crosses her arms over her torso in a huff, when she realizes some-thing. “Where is here, anyhow?”

“This is our nome, Greek drakaine,” the stranger replies; his gate shifts behind her. “Excuse me,” he adds and half-pulls half-lifts Greece’s second biggest sea-monster out of the bayou effortlessly. “There’s someone else behind you-“

“Watch it!” Scylla cannot help but snap at her new interlocutor, even as she covers her feminine modesty from him, (she only got one of those). “I’m still a maiden, you know!”

“She is,” comments... Charybdis, as she emerges from the waters… in her original form, that of a beautiful sea nymph. “Technically speaking. Helios. Hello.”

“Hello to you,” Helios says happily at his de-transformed wife. “Long time no see. Ignore those two, too.”

Scylla looks back at her interlocutor. Currently, she is being supported in mid-air by an opaque black wolf-god whose head reaches the sky, and who is almost as brawny as Godzilla, (and Scylla does not have good memories of the kaiju king).

“Hello,” she says shyly, aware that things will go either horribly wrong or wonderfully right now. “Can you show me around and explain what here is? Also, who are you?”

“He’s Vovkulak, the great wolf that swallows the sun – and I’m the sun,” Helios comments from his own vantage point.

“Like Hell he will!” his de-transformed wife snaps.

“I always win – that is why the solar eclipses don’t last.”

“You want to talk about the lunar eclipses instead?”

As the two males begin to banter, Scylla smiles, (as she realizes that she has shape-shifted herself into something less bulky and unwieldy): this is better than petrifaction is, this is much better!

End

Chapter 23: Chapter 23 (Greek and Roman myths)

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

…Things were not going quite to plan. Yes, Circe was able to turn the arrogant Latin king and his entire retinue into animals for going after her nymphs (and scorning her, but that wasn’t important), but while the king himself became a woodpecker, and most of his retinue were barely better, one of them… wasn’t a sorcerer himself, (certainly not), but maybe a son of one, or perhaps a brother… The point was, that man knew magic himself, (in a matter of speaking), and in-stead of becoming a pig, (and Circe was growing quite fond of turning people into pigs up to this point), he…did become a pig, but rather a big and bristly wild boar with exceptionally sharp tusks. Quite a fast one too, and so Circe was barely able to get onto a tree of her own, before he was upon her.

“Don’t worry, girls, he cannot get me-!” she called out to her own nymphs, before the boar began to use his brawn and tusks to begin uprooting her tree. Oh dear…

“Don’t worry, girls, I’m immortal, it’ll hurt but I’ll recover-!” Circe was not despairing yet.

The boar changed his approach – now when her tree fell, it would fall onto her cauldron, which was still producing magic, therefore, when Circe would land on it… oh dear.

“Mistress Hecate!” one of her nymphs called out. “Great goddess Hecate!”

“What?” the goddess in question asked as she stepped out of the woods, her head on the level with the treetops. “What has Circe do now?”

Abruptly, the boar stopped hostilities, but fell to his knees and began to ex-plain; since Hecate was a goddess of magic (and more than that), she had no problems in understanding what was going on.

“You’re a nincompoop,” she told the mistress of Aeaea flatly. “I warned you from making sea monsters because of envy and jealousy, yes, but this isn’t much of an improvement.”

“I only made one, and out of that Sicilian baggage too,” Circe muttered. “Great Hecate, I mean, please help us-?”

Hecate sighed as she felt three headaches manifesting at the same time. “Your majesty,” she told the royal woodpecker, “you may be royal, but the rest of the world isn’t yours for the taking, not entirely and not always. Remember that, and follow your retinue’s advice, and things will improve for you, your queen and your heir!”

The woodpecker’s attitude immediately changed upon hearing the word ‘heir’ uttered, and he immediately promised to follow the goddess’s advice. Straightaway, he and his entourage, (including the ex-boar), left the scene.

“And as for you and your own nymphs,” Hecate said quietly, “just go home. This time there’s no splash damage unlike what happened on Sicily, but, regardless-“

“We’re going,” Circe replied equally quietly, collected her nymphs and all of their belongings, (the picnic was quite ruined, anyhow), and left for her own home.

Chapter 24: Chapter 24 (Greek and Roman myths, other)

Summary:

More mythical misadventures.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

Across the multiverse…

 

It was noon on the island. It was hot. Scylla, who was always happy to try something new, was going to the new grotto with its underground springs that she had noticed on one of her earlier forays, whistling something merry and cheerful under her breath.

A sudden rustle in the ferns near to the grotto’s entrance caught her attention, causing her abruptly to stop. “Ci-ci, is it you?” she called out. “We know that Cha-Cha is straight, and there’s no one else sentient on the island-“

“Yes, there are – us!” said an adorable otter pup as it came from the ferns. More rustles came from this direction, indicating that it was not alone. “Hello! Please don’t go into that water over there – it smells kind of yucky!”

“Will do – I mean, won’t do,” Scylla nodded sagely - talking otters were quite mild to her, these days. “I’m guessing that you have met Ci-Ci – I mean, Circe, already?”

“Who? No, we’ve only recently here,” a much, much bigger otter pulled out its’ muzzle from the shrubs, “and who’s Circe that you’re talking about? Can she help us get back home, to Eire?”

“Eire? That’s a big island of the Celts,” Scylla, who was human, but an islander herself, (the island in question was Sicily), “quite far from here… How did you arrive? Are you – sea otters or something?”

“No, a treacherous Greek demigod, Palamedes, son of Poseidon, brought us here, to your sea,” the otters’ leader snapped. “We are the Dobhar-Chu, we es-caped, of course, but now we’re stuck here, as our home is too far for us both to swim and to go overland. Can you help us?”

There was a pause as Scylla looked at quite a few otters, (small, regular sized and quite large) looking at her from the undergrowth – an entire clan of otters, put otherwise.

“Maybe I can, or at least I know someone that can, I think,” Scylla said thoughtfully, (a state that was not natural to her, in fact). “Follow me, and hopefully, she’s at her local home.”

/ / /

She was. ‘She’ was Charybdis, daughter of Poseidon, (twin sister of Kymopoleia), and Cha-Cha to Scylla – but not now.

“Charybdis? Are you available?” Scylla called out, politely, instead, to the much, (much) bigger female, as the latter was inside her own dwelling, looking over her armor, (and feeling vaguely dissatisfied by it). “Can we talk? Please?”

“You’re being polite and insecure,” Charybdis commented, as she surfaced, (but not in her full glory). “What is bothering you? What favor do you want to ask of me?”

“…Does your father have a demigod son named Palamedes?” Scylla decided to take the scenic route here.

“Perhaps, I don’t care,” Charybdis muttered, as she sat down next to her on dry land. “Get to the point?”

“By trickery, he brought a clan of Fair folk, the Dobhar-Chu here, from the is-land of Eire, and they can’t get back.”

“My heart goes out to you, really,” Charybdis told the otter clan, who were watching her interactions with Scylla with awe and incredulity. “But I don’t know how you can be helped-“

“Cha-Cha, but I do, I think,” Scylla interrupted; (she normally did not, for Charybdis was that much powerful than she was, period, but now it was an emergency). “I still have a boat, remember? This is how I ended up here, with Ci-Ci and you. The boat is still good, you can pull it, I can steer it, and maybe we can go there? You were saying that your father and King Zeus were measuring up for a fight, and the small fry should get out of the way, remember? So, let’s do that and bring the poor refugees home, eh?”

There was a pause as Charybdis looked down at Scylla, (she was that much taller and broader than the human woman was) in a thoughtful manner, (and not in a “should I eat her now or later” sort of thought either). “This can work,” she spoke, as she shifted into her marine form. “But I need to check your boat for myself first. Little otters, follow us. Scylla, onto my back and steer, please!”

“Will do!” Scylla said, (barely able to contain her excitement), and did just that.

/ / /

…The boat was passing Charybdis’ inspection. The mighty daughter of Posei-don, (nine-tenths of a goddess!) looked over the abovewater part of the vessel, flat-out told Scylla that the human woman did a good job of maintaining her boat-home and dive underwater to check-out the rest of the craft underwater, leaving Scylla keeping an eye on the foreign clan, who were quite interested in looking over the vessel themselves.

“And what are you doing?” Circe the titan-goddess, bewitchingly beautiful, (as far as Scylla was concerned, cough), asked, as she stood on the coast, eyeing Scylla’s home balefully, (as she tended to do, cough).

“Not doing – going. To Eire, and away from here,” Scylla replied, faux-helpfully.

Circe blinked and abruptly sat down onto a closest rock. “What. Why?”

‘To get away from you,’ Scylla wanted to say, but since there were youngsters watching, she sighed and told the truth. Judging by the expression of Circe’s face this was not much better, in fact.

“You’re leaving?” she asked in a much-smaller voice than her regular one. “Really? At long last?”

There was a pause as Scylla fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Well, you did tell me that my luck – or my time, or both – were running out or something, so here I am, listening to your wise advice. Yes?”

“Oh, now you decide to listen to it,” Circe did not even try to hide the empty bitterness from her voice. “Well, in this case, Scylla, mortal woman, I-“

“Want to come with us?” Scylla said quietly. “I know that among the Others offers aren’t given freely or anything, but I’m making one to you anyways, because you deserve it.”

“I do?” Circe sounded more like her usual arrogant self.

“Hey, you tolerated me all this time, even though I was rude, crude and clumsy,” Scylla shrugged, “and a debt is as good as its’ payment, my folks back on Sicily loved to say. So, here, I am, trying to pay you my debt by offering you to get off your island, and I’m sorry if I made another mistake with you-“

“Wait just a few minutes, would you?” Circe said quickly as she was beginning to move up the path. “I’ll be back in a few moments!”

“And she will be,” Charybdis commented as she surfaced at last. “It’s about time that you and this anemic runt settled things between yourselves.”

“Circe is neither of those things,” Scylla exhaled, “and, Cha-Cha? My boat-ship-home?”

“It’ll take time, but I can get us to Eire,” Charybdis replied. “Not too fast, little otters, but if I pull and Scylla steers, we will bring you home.”

“You can? Thank you, o great lady of the deeps-“

“That is actually my mum, Queen Amphitrite, so let’s not go there, but thanks,” the flush on Charybdis’ cheeks indicated her pleasure at the complement. “Circe, you back already?”

“Yes!” the titan-goddess daughter of Helios said emphatically as she put down a purse – or even a handbag – onto the deck with a thump. “Let’s go before I mess things up somehow and ruin everything-!”

“You won’t,” Scylla said emphatically, “though won’t your home-“

“Oh, I put it all away into here,” Circe pointed to her handbag.

“…Right. This is actually impressive,” Scylla blinked as she took her position at the steering oar. “Cha-Cha, shall we?”

And off the three young women, (each of different species) sat off on a mutual journey, (complete with a magical otter clan).

PS: On another part of the island, Circe’s latest magical mishap was mutating some sea life – in a kaiju way.

End?

Notes:

Backstory: here, in this world, the worlds of Classical myths (Graeco-Roman), Celtic (GB and Ireland), and Norse (Scandinavian, North and Eastern Europe, including Rus) co-exist but largely ignore each other, though some spillovers/crossovers happen.

The three girls. Scylla is a human, who has a boat, knows how to use it, her parents make a living by the sea (as smugglers, among other jobs), and ran away from home. Ended up on Aeaea, where Circe lives. Circe is all alone, but she and Scylla are complete opposites, so they clash (at least until now). Charybdis is a daughter of Poseidon, nine-tenths of a goddess, much stronger than Circe, let along Scylla, she lives nearby, doesn't think much of Circe, but is friends with Scylla, but without benefits, as she isn't into other women. The three get along but not always, but now are on a bonding roadtrip. What happens next isn't known yet.

Chapter 25: Chapter 25 (Riordan)

Summary:

More of a quick drabble of an idea, where Percy (and Grover) acquire new enemies for themselves.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't think that I own anyone here.

Once upon a time…

Once upon a time, Percy Jackson went to visit Grover, his friend on the Cloven council of the satyrs, nymphs, dryads, and other nature spirits. Normally, Grover would be happy to see his friend PJ, but right now, he was actually busy.

“All I’m saying, Cloven Elder,” the supplicant, who was not a mortal, but neither was he anything that PJ has met before, (and he met many entities), “but the Outlaw Trio is back out in force, and will the council do something, or shall someone else deal with them?”

“Yes, well, it is tricky…” Grover blinked, saw Percy, and immediately cheered-up. “Oh, hello Percy, what’s up?”

“Nothing; I just promised to meet you today,” the son of Poseidon said truthfully, “it might’ve been a mistake, neither of us were entirely in our minds when we made this agreement, but Annabeth doesn’t mind, and-“

“Wait. You’re the demigod son of Poseidon?” Clover’s… supplicant joined the discussion; they appeared to be male, but Percy still could not pinpoint their facial features; Mist or no Mist, their interlocutor just could not be pinned down, species-wise.

“I certainly am,” Percy nodded solemnly. “Who are the outlaws that you need dealing with?”

“Just a trio of male satyrs who, a long time ago, turned their backs on the council and the rest of us and have made a living since then by being, well, robbers and brigands,” Grover admitted. “There are some every decade, let alone a century, but those three are the oldest and most successful ones by far.”

“I can help you deal with them,” Percy shrugged, as he handled Riptide in his pocket. “After all, I’m good at defeating superior opponents, no?”

“It’s worth trying, elder,” the third member of their little discussion nodded solemnly. “It’ll certainly scare them, I reckon!”

“Fine, but let’s keep it quiet,” Grover muttered, “I don’t want the rest of the council to know that I got an outsider involved – sorry, Percy-“

Percy just grimaced.

 

Skip

The trio of outlaw satyrs were actually living – for the moment – not too far from the Camp Half-Blood, though admittedly, well away from its’ de facto borders. Their current hideout stank with several smells, none of them good, but none of them human, fortunately.

“Oi! Big Guy! Big Head! Parrot! Get up and surrender! The demigod son of Po-seidon demands it!” the companion of Grover and Percy shouted at the decrepit building, (for a lack of a better term). “You three are done!”

“What kind of names-?” Percy was asking in the background.

“The kind that Satyrs had before we began acquiring human ones,” Grover explained, “These monikers are the best translations that I can come up with-“

Grover fell silent as the three renegade satyrs emerged on the scene. Like Grover, they were a mix of human and goat. Their horns were short and hidden among the hair – of the first two who had hair, long hair the color of their fur, i.e. a rich russet brown. Conversely, their skin was pale, almost an icy blue color, and their ears were caprine rather than human. The first two were blocky and brawny; the last one – much more wiry.

“The Cloven Elder. Hello,” the renegades’ leader said flatly. “We were wondering when you were making your move. And who did you bring with you?”

“I’m Percy Jackson, the demigod son of Poseidon,” (can you guess who was speaking), “so surrender now-!”

“I think not,” spoke the third, the wiry satyr, as he kicked a large battle-axe into his hands.

CLANG!

The situation deteriorated immediately, as Percy abruptly found himself fighting for his life yet again, this time against the axe-wielder. Sadly, he usually did not fight sword against axe; that was not a weapon of choice for the many opponents he fought against, the satyr was good with the weapon, and it was able to take hits from Riptide and endure.

Idly, (Percy could handle thinking multiple thoughts in battle, thank you very much), Percy noticed that the other two satyrs were fighting the third member of their party, who became almost as brawny as them, (and also grey all over), and was doing his best while Grover was trying to music them into submission, but satyr magical music wasn’t good against other satyrs, and-

CLANG!

Riptide and the satyr’s axe-blade clashed, no smashed into each other, explod-ing a lot of sparks into the air, and when they faded, the three outlaw satyrs were long gone.

“This could’ve gone better,” the companion of Percy and Grover sighed.

“Sure could’ve, dude,” Percy agreed with the obvious. “What’re your species, anyhow?”

“It’s complicated.”

End (for now)

Chapter 26: An atypical pairing (Greek myths)

Summary:

Aka one where Heracles meets Artemis at the end of his third labour - and she is impressed.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

The chase was long and hard but it was over now. “Got you!” Heracles, one of Greece’s greatest heroes, proclaimed as he finally grabbed the Cerynean Hind, a magically augmented doe of a deer that he chased all over the world for over a year for the Hind didn’t tire… at least until she met Heracles on his assignment, his third labor, for the king of Mycenae…

Despite his glee – he did chase the Hind for over a year and it tells, even for a demigod, Heracles was gentle with the magical deer as he handled her – this was not the Nemean lion, after all. This proved to be important, as-

“Just what do you think you are doing?” the voice was young, but unfriendly, and as the demigod turned around he saw-

Well, at first, he saw the trees, as the speaker was shorter than he was, even more so than the usual as compared to the demigod. Then Heracles lowered his gaze and saw the speaker – the goddess Artemis. The goddess of the hunt was eying Heracles… just eying him in a certain way: clearly, some mental processes were undergoing in that head of hers.

“Hello,” the demigod said politely, the impenetrable armor-hide of the Nemean lion or not. “My lady, the king of Mycenae, my cousin, sent me to retrieve your Hind, I mean no disrespect for you-“

“Of course he did, I know of him,” Artemis licked her lips and put down her bow and arrows into a peaceful position. “And of course he knew – never mind what he knew. The arrogance! The presumption!”

“Mmm,” Heracles nodded, as he did not intend to deny the obvious. “So, can I go?”

“Oh, you will, eventually,” Artemis shot him a look that was at odds with her reputation as a virginal goddess – and Heracles said as much.

“Goddess is the key word here,” Artemis said sharply, “like it or not, we are different from mortal women, so don’t you worry about my virtue-!”

“And the Olympians-?”

“The Olympians hold no sway in my woods,” Artemis did not back down, (though she did glance up at the sky – but no, it was still covered by the crones of the trees – no sneak peaks here). “Even the Thunderbringer has to restrain himself when he enters my domain-“

“Yes, perhaps – I have heard of Callisto-“

“And what do you think of her?” Artemis snapped, her sharp tongue returning.

“Nothing – who am I to judge?” Heracles said quickly. “After all, Perseus, who founded our house, is himself a constellation these days…”

“Good point, though I did avoid him and Andromeda – he cared nothing for the Olympians after his quest, and I can’t say I blame him, not after all of his own adventures…” Artemis snapped her fingers – all of the local wildlife left them alone in a big radius, (as did the various wilderness spirits). “Now shall we?” she asked and stood before the demigod in the nude, her intent clear and obvious.

Heracles took a deep breath, (remembered king Thespius’ 50 daughters – aka his 13th labor that would be nowhere as well known as his canon 12), and stood up to the challenge. (In a manner of speaking).

End

Notes:

Heracles's '13th labour' was when he laid with the king's 50 daughters in a single night and delivered to all of them, shall we say? Zeus was so proud!

Chapter 27: Arachne remastered

Summary:

A reworking of the Arachne story. She deserves one.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

Athena was not having a good life. Oh, sure, being one of the top gods had its’ perks, but ever since Typhon’s uprising it had not been the same. The world runs on stories, (myths, legends, tales, and so on), true, but somehow, after Typhon’s colossal mess, the stories felt different; at least some of the gods themselves, (and not just them), felt different…

And right now, instead of figuring out how, and why, and so on, the goddess of Wisdom was competing with a mortal girl over weaving. Weaving was a part of her portfolio, (the crafts aspect), but this realization didn’t appease Athena’s mood any, nor did her concern as to where the local deities were – Athena was rather out of her geographical comfort zone, but if some Lydian deity came to Greece and began to throw their weight around, someone from Olympus would investigate, right?

Out of a corner of one eye, Athena eyed her mortal rival – a slip of a young woman, named Arachne. While the goddess of weaving was distracted by her thoughts, the mortal woman was… in fact, she was not so much taking ad-vantage as struggling with indecision of what to create.

Feeling the first stirrings of curiosity and interest towards the mortal, Athena subtly used her godly senses that mortals have no analogues – and was sur-prised. Underneath the skin, there were two young women, each one struggling for dominance.

One was pride, monochrome grey, threatening to bury any potential in the promising young woman under its’ arrogance. The other was creativity, various colors, flowing one into another, trying to break free and make its’ own way. And… there was a third, little more than a spark, rotating around the two, try-ing to make itself matter – and moreover, it appeared to be humor.

That settled it. There was little humor on Olympus, unless commanded by Zeus; Hermes, the trickster, could do humor, he would entertain the other gods… until the moment he decided to do something to them instead – contrary what the Titans thought, Hermes’ power, trickery or otherwise, was much more considerable than his default appearance looked like. Arachne’s humor felt different. More… innocent.

“Child,” Athena beckoned to the mortal with one of her fingers…, which almost had as much power as all of Arachne. “Let us pause for a bit. I want to ask you questions.”

“Yes, goddess,” now that Arachne was perceiving – through Athena’s will – just what Athena’s godhood was like, she wasn’t arrogant anymore. “Ask!”

Athena’s eyebrows rose; somehow she thought that at least some part of Arachne – her pride – would resist. But instead – compliance.

“Are you using the craft for money?” she asked instead. “To become rich?”

“No, that is more of my family’s doing,” came the reply. “This isn’t for the money – it’s art!”

“Only art?” Athene looked at what Arachne was making after all. It were gods, fighting Typhon, only the gods were cats (mostly), and Typhon was a truly large dog. It could be considered as arrogance and hubris, as a good, solid, im-aginative work, and even – as a small, comfortable joke. Athena found this fascinating and interesting…

Meanwhile, a brief reluctance was dispelled like an air bubble. “We… don’t want to be a face in the crowd,” came a whisper, audible only to divine ears. “We want… we want to be like you!” A pause. “Not like you,” came a hurried whisper, “just ‘like’ like you, virgin and all!”

Athena almost twitched. What the mortals failed to understand, that for the de-ities’ virginity was something somewhat different than it was for the mortals – but since the gods did not explain it to the mortals, this belief persisted – but now was not the time to talk about it…

“And the humor?”

“I was the village prankster before my skill was discovered… I can weave silk, linen, and other fancy threads, but I can work with hemp, cord, and other rough things too! I don’t know how, I just do!”

“Child,” said Athena, who In fact had a good idea as to how Arachne did do that. “Do you want to come with me? I cannot make you like me, but I can help you become like me, with your own portfolio – it will include weaving, and pranks, and something else too – spiders, I think for some reason…”

“Yes please!” Arachne fell to her knees, and not just because Athena was holding her now in her hand with all the effort that Arachne herself would hold a flask… Athene smiled benignly, and ascended with Arachne into the sky…

End

Notes:

A/N: Arachne's tale is about hubris and gods. Arachne's skill comes from the gods but she refuses to admit it. Athena/Minerva gives her a couple of chances to admit it and save face, but Arachne didn't do it. So, Athena took away Arachne's weaving for her - and Arachne immediately decided that life wasn't worth living anymore, (rather than apologize to the goddess at last), and died. Athena flipped it - now Arachne has no life, just weaving.

This story has nothing do with the canon. I might expand this universe sometime in the future.

Chapter 28: Animagi (HP)

Summary:

An AU-ish take on the Marauders' era at Hogwarts.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters here.

-1-

The Marauders were going to war.

…Well, no, in fact they were going to take down Snape, this time in their ani-mal disguises; (of course, Sirius thought of it first, James agreed because of Lily, Remus went along because of lycanthropy, and Peter went along because he did not want to be left behind). The four of them went.

Sirius was in the lead this time, once more a black dog. They were going to show-up this Snape, that was for certain.

James was the second, the stag. Normally, he would be the one in charge, edging out even Sirius, but he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong; he just did not know what.

Remus was the third. He was not an Animagus; he was a werewolf, but the other Marauders managed to keep him manageable tonight (suspension of disbelief here, please); he was aware that this was wrong, but his lycanthropy was undercutting his integrity yet again. His life sucked.

Peter was the last. He was quite aware that what they were doing was wrong, that acting out like this against Snape in their animal forms was not right, but who would listen to him? Who did listen to him? No one did, and so, rather than be left by himself, Peter went along. In the back of the line.

It is dangerous for human eyes to gaze at one’s inner beast for too long. The flesh remembers, the back of the mind echoes. Even if one does go back to a human shape, even if one does walk as a person once more – during day or night – the danger is always there, the option is always present – to flip and live, and leave, and be an animal – or even more than an animal – but not a human either.

…This is why wizards and witches, especially pureblood, shun and boycott werewolves whose beast is never truly buried anymore. It is too easy for the scales to flip, you know?

Right now, though, it was not werewolves and lycanthropy that mattered – rather, it were bats. At least a bat that swooped from the sky promptly ‘marked’ all four of the Marauders and flew away into a certain forbidden forest.

Making all sort of animal sounds, the Marauders gave chase. Well, at least Potter and Black did; Lupin just pretended to, and Pettigrew did not even bother to pretend. Naturally, they did not catch the bat.

-2-

Severus Snape was still in his own Animagus form. Several Snape was not en-joying himself.

Ok, he did have some fun feelings getting one over the Marauders, and part of the reason as to why he was not enjoying himself came from the fact that he very rarely enjoyed himself; period, and now he had real life to worry about.

Well, by real life, he meant the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who. His power was on the rise, and given how rumours about him abounded, the Dark Lord didn’t mind killing other people to rise further, and the only standing in his way, ap-parently, was Dumbledore.

Severus Snape had his own opinions of the headmaster of Hogwarts, but at least the man wasn’t killing other people for power, right? Given the reputation of Dumbledore, anything could go and Snape would not be surprised – but this realization did not help at all – he needed something or someone to give him motivation and direction, and-

“That was very impressive,” a mosquito that was almost as big as the bat, as green as the bat was black, emerged from the other side of the tree.

Severus gave the newcomer a very unimpressed look. “Hello, Skeeter.”

TBC?

Notes:

And cut!

I don't know where it would go from here; in this story, Rita Skeeter is a mosquito rather than a beetle Animagus, and even more proactive than how she was in the canon; she is trying to befriend Snape due to her own plans, but since Snape is selfish and plannish himself, the two of them work, somehow. Neither cares much for the Dark Lord or Dumbledore at this point, but what could they do? And what will the Marauders do next? Any suggestions are welcome.

Chapter 29: Percy saves Annabeth from spiders

Summary:

Just a short drabble this time, because Percabeth.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.

The day was sunny, the weather was warm, and Percy and Annabeth were en-joying their lives in college without too much danger coming their way.

“Eek! Percy! Spiders!”

‘Too much’ being the key word here. Annabeth was still scared of spiders, it seemed.

“And how!” the young demigod commented from her perch on Percy’s shoulders and neck. “Percy, kill them now!”

Percy made a general sound as Annabeth almost choked him with her thighs in a non-fun way.

“Sorry,” the young woman in question commented as she climbed down from her boyfriend. “It just that, you know, spiders!”

Percy just sighed and caught the spiders in tiny bubbles of water and air, (son of Poseidon here, hello!), safely isolating them from Annabeth and vice versa.

“My hero!” Annabeth said brightly and kissed him.

Percy was barely able to stop the spiders from escaping.

End

Chapter 30: Diana's Autumn Hunt (Riordan)

Summary:

Riordan talked and wrote about Artemis quite a bit, but what abou Diana? Are the two aspects similar? Well, yes, but quite different too.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here.

It was an American autumn. All around Artemis the local trees – from the mighty oaks to the not-so-mighty aspens were losing their leaves, as they fell from their branches, streaks of red, yellow, orange, and ochre. The wind was crisp and chill, any mortals would feel it – but Artemis of the Greeks, (Diana of the Romans), a full Olympian and a goddess of the wild and the hunt, ignored it.

…Well, rather she refused to be affected by it, but that sounded far less grand, and-

“-And what are you doing here?” Mars Sylvanus, Ares’ Roman counterpart, (but quite different in attitude and domains), asked her as he emerged from the forest, acting – and looking – much more subdued – from the powerful – and civilized – Greek god of war. “Shouldn’t you be at your brother’s home, in Hyperborea, celebrating his return and a new victory over Python?”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Artemis said sharply, more than she intended to, but her relationship with her twin brother was more complex than most mortals knew, and most other gods realized. (Except for Zeus, but the king of the Olympian gods did not care, which didn’t endear him to Artemis). “I and my brother have made our peace-“

“Great, because it is time for Diana’s annual autumn hunt!” Mars Sylvanus smiled in a carnivorous way.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused – behold the celestial calendar!” and suddenly a hologram of the object in question hovered above the two gods.

Artemis took a good look at it – she really did not care much about it, or follow it too closely – and her eyes widened. “Holy me, it really is time!” she proclaimed overly loudly, but hers – Diana hers – annual autumn hunt was one of her favorite events of the year, and that time was now! “Yes!”

Abruptly, Artemis shifted – into Diana, and now she was dressed for the season, in hunting clothing that blazed as red as the autumn berries. She was no longer an eternal maiden of summer, but a powerful woman in her prime, a flawless combination of strength and beauty. (Even her earrings fit her).

Diana whistled once, and her horse, fully trained in the art of hunting approached her, Diana’s bow and quiver of arrows hanging from the saddle.

Diana whistled twice, and the other, lesser Dianas answered that whistle.

…When the Olympians moved to Italia, Artemis who would be Diana was surprised to learn that the Italians already had plenty of lesser hunting spirits/demigods named Dianas, who promptly elected her their leader – the chief Diana. Given that, Artemis had never had anything like this in Greece, that were some confusing few centuries – and Zeus/Jupiter never helped. Now, however, the confusion was resolved, and Diana of the Romans, Diana the Roman hunting goddess, was ready to go to hunt. She whistled for the third time, and her quarry – the mighty divine bison – answered in roars and bellows, almost equal to Diana’s whistles in volume and power.

Diana of the Romans rode to hunt, (as Mars Sylvanus faded into the trees), her divine entourage following her closely, and her quarry standing their ground, (for now). Elsewhere (but also on the North American continent) the hunters of Artemis, (led by Thalia Grace and Rayna RA), felt strange – but that was another story.

Notes:

This is after the 'Trials of Apollo', if anyone's confused.