Modern Greek Mythology Adaptation Where Hades And Persephone Are Played By John Mulaney And His Wife

Today’s mood

Tigerclaw and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Senior Warrior Position AU

In a world where deputies can only be named after their first apprentice has been granted their warrior name, Tigerclaw struggles to keep an apprentice alive long enough to earn their name.

or, a comedy-tragedy AU in which having an apprentice isn't enough — you have to see them to their warrior name, and Tigerclaw cannot fucking get any of his goddamn apprentices to live, damn it.

—

It starts out mostly normally, except for the fact that Tigerclaw hasn't gotten any apprentices to their warrior name, and he needs that so he can accomplish his (very noble, of course) kitty genocide goals. And also be the supreme leader of the world or something. Darkpaw died stupidly, he hasn't had a chance since, and now he's got some tiny thing that's afraid of his own shadow.

Well. It'll have to do.

So naturally this man is so protective over Ravenpaw that Ravenpaw barely even leaves his sight. Firepaw and Graypaw think that this is adorable. Look how much Tigerclaw cares about his apprentice!!

Ravenpaw, of course, is fucking terrified and also slowly losing his mind, just in a different way.

—

"Redtail assigned us to go on a patrol to Snakerocks." "OH NO HE DID NOT. WE'RE STAYING IN THE SANDY HOLLOW WHERE IT'S SAFE."

"Nothing matters more to me than making you a warrior, Ravenpaw. Nothing." And the terrible thing is that Ravenpaw is sure he's being sincere.

—

Ravenpaw disappears and Tigerclaw nearly fucking has a conniption because the timing was all RIGHT and he was going to finally get the position AND HE NEVER GOT HIS DAMN NAME FUCK.

"Do you think I could convince the elders that Fireheart was my apprentice?" "Fireheart was Bluestar's apprentice, as approved by StarClan. You're going to have to wait for the next litter to be apprenticed."

So he begs and begs and gets Cinderpaw and then she accidentally falls into the trap he'd set for a better deputy candidate at the Thunderpath. Fuck.

—

Well. Time to resort to drastic measures.

"I was thinking that Darkstripe would have been a good name. Because he had dark stripes." "Again, Tigerclaw, it's admirable that you loved your apprentice so much, but I cannot grant him a name." "Are you sure?" "Honestly, Tigerclaw, I'm not sure he ever would have gotten a name. Missing quite a few feathers from his nest, that one..." Fuck. The worst part was that she wasn't even wrong.

— Swiftpaw and Brightpaw get mauled by the dogs he set up to happen like right after he got the title and they sprang it before and he's like FUCK NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN DOGS? His world domination plans literally never come to fruition because he cannot keep his apprentices alive/in the clan/his own.

— "Brightheart counts. She HAS to count." "Actually, Cloudtail took over her training…" [demented noises]

—

Turns out that Ravenpaw is alive and no one — no one — in the Harper Collins Extended Universe is happier than Tigerclaw.

"You're alive! …You deserve your warrior name!" "Actually, I've come to peace with my name and my way of life. I have no need for a—" "GET YOUR FUCKING NAME RIGHT NOW RAVENPAW OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN—" "I know you really wanted Ravenpaw to become a warrior," Barley says gently, "but he's made his decision. It's very kind of you to acknowledge that he deserves it, though. You must have been so close as mentor and apprentice." Tigerclaw's eye twitches. "Yes. Close. Very... close." —

He finally, finally retires as an elder after his plans go absolutely nowhere for years on end. And maybe StarClan is still like "Brambleclaw would be chill actually, we can forget that pesky little law" and Tigerclaw is sitting there like "excuse me what the actual fuck?" —

But at this point Tigerclaw is about as dangerous as Ashfur without a freak forest fire. Which is to say about as dangerous as using a leaf as a weapon. Which is, incidentally, how Darkpaw managed to get himself killed in the first place.

—

"Is this the Dark Forest? This has to be the Dark Forest. It doesn't look like Thistleclaw described it, but it must be. This Clan is all an elaborate punishment meted down by StarClan for my sins." "Tigerclaw, sir, I'm just here to help you with your ticks. See? I have the mousebile right here." "…Yes, thank you, Alderpaw." — Graystripe joins him in the elder's den and he's like, "You know, Ravenpaw thought you were up to some… scheme, back in the day. Crazy, right? You've been a model Clanmate as long as I've been alive." [muffled screaming] "Huh, what do you think that is? It sounds almost like someone killed a rabbit, but they know not to come this close to camp…"

Honestly I just feel really bad for Ea Nasir

scale of 1-10 how much do you love me

100/10, we’re getting married after all

A Dear Evan Hansen inspired picture

The Sound of Music (1965) dir. Robert Wise

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a princess in a shining castle. She supposed that she hadn’t been born in the castle, that she had once led a life outside the everyday humdrum of nobility. If she had, she didn’t remember it. This life was all she had ever known and all she could ever adore. She was proud to spend her days striving for noble perfection. Every step she took in the ballroom, every smile she gave to the servants, every song that burst from her lips was nothing less than beautiful.

Her husband certainly seemed to think so. They had married years ago, in a swirl of bliss and harmony, and had never regretted a moment of their lives since. By day, they strolled the castle gardens, exchanging roses and memories. By evening, they twirled beneath the chandeliers. As the stars rose above the turrets and towers, they would name each constellation.

Well, they would name all the constellations they could see, before the stars disappeared over the far horizon. It was a horizon that neither had crossed. Why should they? There was no reason to leave. They had one another and their castle. Each day was a new adventure, ensuring that they were never bored, ensuring that they were always happy. It was a noble, adventurous, life. The princess didn’t want anything more. For what else was there?

It was with this thought that she knelt at her husband’s side, surrounded by servants, knights, advisors, and chancellors. After years of bliss as a prince, he was finally going to exchange his silver crown for a golden one. He was to become king. Everyone within the castle agreed that he was ready, for he ruled the castle with such knowledge and chivalry that no other man could.

He was a saint. He was a ruler. He was—

—sprouting a ridiculous amount of hair. And were those fangs?

The princess was the first to gasp, practically leading the reactions. Over the confusion and disgust came a roar of pure agony. The princess reached for her husband, only for a knight to pull her back. In the chaos, the crown fell to the ground. The ceremony was disrupted. Her husband was not yet king.

Nor could he be.

The scream that rose from her lungs was matched only by his roar. The knight tried to drag her away but she broke free, racing to the mass that stood in her husband’s place. She didn’t know what to make of the creature. Part-wolf, part-minotaur, but he was still her husband. She touched the fur that had been his cheek, staring into those eyes that she knew so well. Yes, this was her husband. She didn’t know what had happened but she knew that they would get through this. This was strange. This was love. This was—

“Hideous!” 

The knight had roared, his sword pointed at his own prince, his teeth barred in a most monstrous way. “He’s hideous! Princess, away from the monster! I will kill him at once! Away, I said! Move!”

“I will not,” she said. “You will not kill him.”

Even as she said it, she could see murder in the knight’s eyes. She realized that he may very well have tried to kill her husband, transformation or no. She stepped forward and watched as the bloodlust in his eyes briefly lacked blood.

“Princess,” he growled, “come with me. I shall protect you from this monster.”

“He’s no monster, Sir Knight,” she said with full conviction. “You are.”

The way he snarled at her, the way he charged, the way he riled up his pack with roars and hisses. There was nothing she could do to fight the mob. She let them go. They ripped apart every inch of the castle on the way out, destroying her home. They planned to march to the nearest village and warn everyone about the beast that now resided in the castle. In time, nobody would dare journey there. It was a monstrous plan.

It worked.

Years passed, in which the princess and her husband were the only residents of the castle. It was as if everyone in the kingdom had simply forgotten about them. As she stared into her husband’s eyes each day, she supposed that it was easy to forget things. He seemed to be forgetting things with each passing moment. She had her own room, of course, but she still emerged every day for meals. He had joined her at first. Then, the silverware had slipped through his growing claws. The soup bowl had crashed to the floor. He skipped one meal, then several, then found he no longer had an appetite at all. There were no dances beneath the chandelier, no songs to be sung, no roses to be exchanged in the garden. They still loved each other but their marriage was different. Their lives were different. He was a different man. He was not a man at all.

But of course he was. She knew that he was still her husband, even if he was losing the finer details of their marriage. He was still her husband. She loved him. She professed the love every day, as if hoping that it would break the curse. It did not. Still, she professed. She clung onto her love. She clung onto hope, even as the castle began to crumble around her. She retreated to the library, pouring endlessly through books, trying to find a cure to this madness. She spent entire weeks there with only the company of herself.

She became so used to her own company that she didn’t know how to react when another human crawled through the front doors. All at once, her chivalry and kindness came flooding back, allowing her to help the stranger into the dining room. She had set out a plate for her husband but knew that he wasn’t going to come. She gave it to the traveler instead, marveling at how old and frail he was. How had he gotten here?

It turned out that he had gotten lost. He had been looking for shelter from the snow when he had spotted the castle.

“I didn’t even know we had a castle in these parts,” he said, sipping from his teacup. He let out a small laugh and added, “What will they think of, next?”

She poured him another cup before asking, “Does nobody know about the castle? Does nobody know about their prince and princess?”

“Well, don’t feel too bad,” he kindly said. “I suspect you two didn’t know about us, either.”

It was that sentence that rang through her head like bells, even as she escorted him to a guest room to sleep. The room itself had fallen into such a state that it resembled a dungeon. He didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps he always lived like this. Perhaps the people in his village were kind enough to not comment on the decay of interior decorating. She didn’t know. She didn’t know a single thing about this man’s lifestyle or the lives of those in the kingdom.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that their lives had been completely separated. Was this why her husband had been cursed before taking his place as king? Was it a cold, yet effective, reminder that he was not yet ready to rule for he did not yet know their kingdom? Neither of them did?

She thought it must be so.

Thus, as the sun rose in the east, she met the traveler in the entrance hall, a single question on her mind: “Will you take me with you?”

He looked puzzled. “You wish to leave the castle and come to the village?”

“I have to,” she said. “I need to know what our kingdom is like if we can ever hope to rule it, one day. My husband isn’t able to travel. So I will travel for both of us. If you can escort me back, I will find somewhere to stay, and—”

“No need to look far, my dear,” said the kind man. “I’ve always wanted a daughter. If you would help me with my inventions, you can stay as long as you’d like.”

After expressing her gratitude, she found a traveling cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders. She braced herself for the nature of the world. With the traveler at her side, she left the castle.

They were going through the gardens when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was him, her husband, sitting in the snow-covered flowers. She hurried over, though she found herself slowing at the last minute. The sorrow that shone in his eyes was enough to bring tears to hers. It was obvious that he wanted to escape his prison. It was also obvious that he loved her, even as it was obvious that he was slowly forgetting her, forgetting his old life.

Still, when he held out a single rose for her to keep, she knew that hope hadn’t completely wilted. This was a sign of his love. This was a blessing.

She held onto it, even as she journeyed to the village, even as she traded her royal gown for a plain dress, even as she mingled with the commoners, even as she gave in to her new life. The merchant was true to his word, giving her a house and a home, treating her like his daughter. She woke up every morning and journeyed into the village, reading, watching, doing whatever she could to gain knowledge about their kingdom. She ignored the old knight who leered at her with old lust. He was not a part of her story, even if he was part of the town.

She knew that there was more than this provincial town, she knew that she would have to journey on eventually. She knew that she wouldn’t stop journeying, not until she found the enchantress that had cursed her husband, not until she had proven that she had gained knowledge of her entire kingdom. 

She knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that most villagers would scorn her. She really didn’t fit in. She was too much for the little towns. More than once, she wanted to flee back to the safety of her castle. She did not.

She would continue on this adventure, until she got her happily ever after. 

She would use every bit of herself to get to the end, even if the villagers mocked her for it. Let them mock. She knew who she was. 

She was beauty. 

She was brains. 

She really was a funny girl, that Belle…

—

Cheat Code #4 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

To show a character's personality in the aids they use, add customization, accessories, and/or specializations.

i.e.: You'll have a more three-dimensional character design if you take the time to consider what you can make unique about an aid; it should be as much a part of your design thoughts as the clothes they wear or the hairstyle they keep, and there are several ways to go about it. For example:

Customization would be things like colors and lights. A prosthetic arm can have colored guards that slide in and latch; a rich person might have those guards gilded, while a scientist might have a whiteboard arm panel to scribble notes on, and a stage performer could have theirs painted black with a bone on it to give the appearance of a skeletal window. A visor that replaces vision could have a screen that shows expressive pixel eyes for a happy-go-lucky hacker, or a practical black shield for someone in strict uniform. ⠀ To customize: make yourself a base, then take that base and imagine what each character you apply it to would WANT it to look like; prioritize aesthetics or practicality based on their personal preference. ⠀

Accessories are add-ons to your aid, rather than part of it. A cane could have ribbons wound around it if it's used by a magical girl, or a secret compartment stopper to hide notes in for a paranoid detective. A wheelchair might come with paragliding wings that open with a pullstring for a daredevil, canvas bags full of tools for a mechanic, or hubcaps that detach and can be thrown as weapons for a soldier. ⠀ For accessories, you're not necessarily thinking of "what can I add to this aid to make it special?" The process is better defined as "what would they want to have, and how can I merge the two in a way that's easy to use?" ⠀

Specializations are sort of a deeper combination of the two above features. They're a more advanced way of making your aids stand out, down to the materials they're comprised of or their intrinsic properties, that uniquely suit your character. They're typically hard to come by without being specially made, and can't be quickly modded in. ⠀ A spine brace being made of magic, living wood that grows to fill gaps when damaged would be available to a wood elf, and probably specially given to a warrior who WOULD damage it. A wheelchair made of magic-resistant metal could have use for a battlemage that can't turn to deflect spells quickly, or a witch hunter who wants immunity from the mages they're hunting. A cane that lights up when it senses radiation would be useful to a planetary explorer or warp drive mechanic, but not to a marine xenobiologist studying the starwhale population, who instead has a whalecall whistle built into theirs. ⠀ A specialized aid takes into account not only your character's wants and needs, but also their profession, their common risks, and occasionally their class—especially if you're using rare materials.

When you want to design an aid to be unique to your character, go through this checklist:

What do they want it to look like?

What would they want to add to it, and how do I make it convenient?

What would their setting offer them for their job or status?

What modifications would they have to seek out themselves, and would/could they?

Ask yourself these, and you're well on your way to making your disabled characters as varied as your abled ones.

Cheat code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 2: What kinds of aid to use to accommodate disability

Cheat Code 3: How to make your setting itself disability-friendly