Chase and Deacon decide to enter the story of 'The Little Mermaid' but, of course, Buddy is there as well. (fanfic of Cinderella Boy by Punko on webtoon. uploaded by release of episode 50) COMPLETED

"As... Entertaining as that sounds, not much for you." Deacon flapped the pages absentmindedly. "I looked through it, it's pretty simple. Nothing changes much for you, you get cursed as a baby, find out you're the long-lost princess, run into the forest to get hypnotized by the evil fairy, and prick your finger. Boom, you get to sleep for the rest of the book until the wedding. The only thing that really changes is there's no dragon like in the Disney version, it's just a fight." Chase nods. "And... Buddy'll be the evil fairy, Maleficent, whatever she's called in this version, right?" "Like in all the twenty other versions we've done of Sleeping Beauty, most likely." "And you?" "No clue. I've been a lot of stuff in this story; from one of your fairy caretakers to the prince's companion. I guess don't be surprised if you don't see me," Deacon said with a half-hearted shrug. "Alrighty!" Chase scurried up the ladder to their book-diving hideout, smiling at Silver. "You ready, girlie-pop?" "Girl... Ie pop?" ~~~ Chase and Deacon go into yet another rendition of Sleeping Beauty; doesn't seem too different. Chase pricks his finger, sleeps, the prince fights the evil fairy, rescues Chase... Except he doesn't. The kiss - the magical true love's kiss - isn't so magical. Chase is still asleep, and everybody's freaking out. The prince, Deacon, even Nox, surprisingly. There's only one thing that they can possibly think of. Chase needs an actual true love's kiss to wake him, and obviously the prince - basically an NPC - isn't his true love. But who is his true love? And how will they get that person into the book? *** The cover consists of many stock photos aswell as art from Punko, the creator of Cinderella Boy! Please go read the comic is you haven't to show your love <3 ***

[ART NOT MINE!!!!] (Credits to Punko for art and character obviously!!) After Deacon finds out about how Buddy and Chase saved everyone from the damaged book, he tries to prove a point by choosing a sapphic enemies to lovers story. Unfortunately, the point does not land the way he hoped, and just causes tons of drama.

Cub was told from the very first day: never reveal himself. Hide the wings. Hide the horns. Hide the sharpness of his smile and the power humming just beneath his skin. Be smaller. Be quieter. Be less. So he learned. He learned how to file his horns down until they ached, until the dull nubs left behind could pass for harmless deformities rather than proof of what he truly was. He learned how to grind his teeth flat, ignoring the sting and the copper taste in his mouth, because predators were feared-and fear invited questions. He learned how to fold his wings tight against his back, binding them beneath a lab coat that hung heavy and stiff, its fabric hiding the faint shimmer of vex light that refused to be fully smothered. Most days, the coat was enough. Most days, no one noticed the way he stood too still, or how his eyes caught the light just a little wrong. No one questioned why he flinched at mirrors, or why he never laughed with his mouth open. They saw a scientist. A helper. Someone safe. And that was the point. Because Cub knew-had always known-that the moment the truth was seen, the moment the wings unfurled or the horns grew back sharp and proud, the world would stop calling him Cub and start calling him something else entirely.

Vexes and Watchers have always gone hand in hand-though not in harmony. The prevailing legend among the players tells of a twisted bond: Vexes, once majestic creatures of the in-between, reduced to little more than violent, shimmering wraiths-pets, tools, weapons-kept on a short leash by the Watchers. Most say it's abuse cloaked in obedience. Others say it's the only language these winged terrors understand. So, when a newly ascended young Watcher is given two Vexes-his first real assignment-he braces himself. He expects snarling, snapping, eyes glowing with fury and betrayal. He's read the files. Heard the tales from seasoned Watchers who boast about broken wings and conquered spirits. He's even seen footage of rogue Vexes ripping through entire bases in bloodlust. But what he gets... is different. They're small. Smaller than expected. One clings to the corner of the room, wings drooping like torn silk, eyes flickering with dim, uncertain light. The other keeps low to the ground, trembling any time the Watcher so much as breathes too sharply. Neither of them meets his gaze. Neither of them hisses, or screams, or attacks. They're kind. Gentle. One even offers him a fractured flower-where it got it, he doesn't know. They're afraid of him, but not angry. Not volatile. It's not submission... it's survival. And he doesn't understand. He's not used to Vexes being soft. He's not used to being feared like that. And the more he observes them-how they sleep curled up together for comfort, how they flinch at sharp sounds, how they whisper in a language only they know-the more questions bloom. Were the stories wrong? Were the others lying? Or had the Vexes only ever shown their claws because the Watchers never gave them a reason to sheath them? He begins to wonder: are they monsters at all? Or just victims with wings?

The Forbidden Seas belonged to no kingdom. Every map marked the waters differently, but every sailor agreed on one thing: once you crossed into them, you were no longer protected by the crown. They belonged to the Howlers. The ruthless pirate fleet had ruled the sea for decades, leaving shattered ships and whispered legends in their wake. Merchant captains spoke of black sails appearing from nowhere, of eerie howls echoing across the water before an attack, and of crews vanishing without a trace. The Howlers didn't bargain, didn't ransom prisoners, and were infamous for leaving no survivors to tell the tale. At the center of every story was their captain. Ren. A wolf hybrid whose name alone was enough to silence a crowded tavern. Some claimed he had once served the royal navy before turning pirate. Others insisted he'd been born at sea beneath a blood-red moon. No one knew the truth. What everyone agreed on was that if Captain Ren chose your ship, there was no escaping him. Now Captain Martyn found himself sailing straight into those very waters. As captain of a royal merchant vessel, he knew exactly what it meant. His green eyes scanned the horizon through his spyglass, searching the gray sea for any sign of black sails. Around him, the crew worked in uneasy silence, each man listening to the wind and the waves, dreading the sound every sailor feared. The howl of a wolf. Because once the Howlers found you, the sea itself became their hunting ground. And no prey had ever outrun the pack.

Tango had always seen himself as a weapon. Not in the poetic sense, not metaphorically-no, in his mind he was something built to burn, a walking catastrophe dressed up like a person. Anything beautiful or green that he touched seemed destined to wither, curl inward, burst into flame, and die. It wasn't his fault, not really. He was a blaze hybrid, after all. Fire clung to him the way breath clung to others. His hair burned with living flame, flickering wild and hot unless he was sleeping or truly, deeply calm. Only then did it shift into something gentler: golden locks, soft and shimmering like sunlight instead of wildfire. Even the puffball at the tip of his tail-usually a small comet trailing sparks-could cool into a warm, glowing gold when his mind settled. Most of the time, though, it burned. So he avoided anything green. Plants recoiled from him, leaves crisping if he stepped too close. He stuck to industrial spaces instead: metal catwalks, stone corridors, redstone workshops where nothing living could be harmed by his presence. He carved out his home in places where fire was expected. His eyes were striking in a way that made people flinch before they realized they'd done it. The sclera were a deep burnt red, like embers cooling in a furnace, while the irises were bright and molten-almost too alive, too intense, like staring into a forge mouth. People didn't always know where to look when they talked to him. And so, after enough awkward pauses and nervous glances, Tango started wearing goggles. The tinted lenses hid the fire in his eyes and the freckles scattered across his cheeks-small, dark flecks like soot across pale skin. He didn't mind hiding. It was easier that way. Easier for him. Easier for everyone he might accidentally burn.

Scott- the famous villain, kidnaps a hero thinking someone will come for him. But after many long nights of hearing cries of the hero he figured out nobody would come for him. I mean who would want a 'useless' person in their team? 🏳️‍🌈❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 Started: 23.12.2022 First part published: 23.12.2022 3k reads: 7.4.2023 5k reads: 25.5.2023 Finished: 18.7.2023 Last part published: 19.7.2023

When the past he's been running from is shoved into his face and secrets revealed, Grian's forced back into a world he thought he long since escaped. Grian's a prankster and good at flying, this was bound to happen eventually.

Deep in a secret testing facility a small avian is trapped in a life of unbearable experiments. But when the Hermits infiltrate and raid the lab they rescue the injured hybrid. With this new freedom grian is given a chance to live, explore life and spread his wings - but the shadow of his past threatens to clip his wings forever. Can the Hermits save him from the darkness of his past or will they forver be lost in the void of his life and secrets? Started 16/8/2025 Finished 7/9/2025 Wc: 33505 100☆ 2/9/2025 200☆ 6/10/2025 1k views 5/9/2025 2k views 12/9/2025 3k views 6/10/2025 4k views 13/11/2025 5k views 1/12/2025 6k Views 29/12/2025 #1 in gtwscar #2 goodtimeswithscar #4 grian