Divorce Saga Domon - A Haunted Honk Prequel
Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!
This is an idea for a fic set in an Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.
If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.
If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -
Then go ahead and feel free to:
Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings
and click the Read More below!
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Ended up outlining a completely different fic as a Segway for an explanation instead of making progress on the Royal Flush Haunted Honk AU's Clown Motel Fic like I wanted to but uh....
For y'all's review for the AU: A Prequel Outline - Divorce Saga Domon
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Hey real quick - I'm thinking of maybe changing the timeline to 2 years post canon as opposed to 3 years and change post canon.
The reason being: I had a thought that this scene could either be part if the fic or if it's getting to big then it could be a stand alone tie-in prequel fic as part of this AU but - like
Immediately Post Divorce Domon Needs Space and runs off. As one does. And he runs to Earth because he just wants to Get Lost for a while.
He has Argo smuggle him out to avoid detection.
Argo has Andrew help stow Domon in a storage hanger of a Neo Canadian supply ship that's returning to the US - they have trade often enough and share agricultural resources - which leads to Domon ending up in New York when he hits Earthside pavement.
He's privately worked on his English the last couple of months and after being dropped in New York with a different hairstyle, outfit, and accent he's unrecognizable.
He considers making his way west to get some solitude in the wilderness, but something about that initial plan feels off now that he's on the ground.
Chibodee is also Earthside for a special series of prize fights aimed at raising charitable appeal for the US in the eyes of Neo Americans.
Domon decides to hit up Chibodee for a fight on a day between matches hoping it'll clear his head and give him the clarity to decide on a course of action. What ends up happening is an unexpected heart to heart via blows and a breakdown.
Domon is happy for Rain and Kyoji, and he knows it's not true; but he feels like he lost a piece of himself when his relationship with Rain fell apart.
Domon's instinct is to run after that but Chibodee knows this city and Domon doesn't hide out for long before Chibodee drags him back to his place to stay and just "Chill out and breathe. You don't have to be anyone but yourself here. You can take as long as you need to find out what everything changing means for you." Friends and teammates stick together.
So Domon spends a few weeks with Chibodee sparring and hanging out in New York. Chibodee does a frankly awesome job at containing his feelings because he's focusing on Domons feelings and being a good friend first and foremost. Whatever he's feeling can wait until after Domon is done going though it.
There's a bit of a twinge in Domon's heart as he leaves that he can't really place.
After he returns to Neo Japan and gets settled back into life with his family, The Dreams start.
They're mainly set in New York. Small things first like noticing Chibodee's smile and his eyes. Then sparring sessions that begin to turn lurid.
He thought these kinds of dreams would stop after he was married.... he doesn't know what to do about this.
I just figure it gives more clarity and sense of time for the journey from Comphet Marriage Dissolution to Feelings to Confession. Idk.
But I got stuck on a bit and then had this thought and needed to get it down before I lost it and it was so long it made sense to make it its own post as opposed to several replies.
The Maize and Clown Motel will probably still be 3 years and change post canon for clarification.
@thedragonchilde @amplexadversary @youreaclownnow
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I noticed that in all the ffs Ezra and Reader are already in an established relationship (and that's something I love, don't get me wrong! I'm always soft for the two of them together)
BUT
I can suggest: Ezra and Reader pining for each other?
Ezra and Reader who are emotionally close, giggly and happy whenever they are near each other.
The whole Ghost crew knows there's something between them, but neither Ezra nor Reader want to say something because "they're just friends, and he/they don't see me that way."
Then Ezra disappears, sending Thrawn into exile.
And the relationship between Ezra and Reader remains stuck in what "could have been" and "what will never be"
When Reader, along with Sabine and Ahsoka, finally finds Ezra, the meeting is all tight, endlessly long hugs and radiant smiles.
Obviously not a meeting between "just friends".
But at the same time it's obviously not a meeting between lovers. How could it be, when they didn't have the opportunity to be more than they were?
But at least, for the first time in years, Reader feels completely at peace, despite any imminent threat. They has finally found Ezra, and maybe that's enough.
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ART MUSEUM DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE
my favorite pieces are the Detroit Industry Murals at the Detroit Institute of Arts painted by Diego Rivera and Flowers in a Rococo Vase by Paul Cézanne, which I saw at the National Museum of Art back in 2015!!!!!!! tell me yours if you want
AAAAAAAAAA PLS YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I ADORE THIS!!!
I LOVE hearing about people's favourite pieces like. This is fr my love language 🥹 it's amazing to look at something you would maybe not give much importance through someone else's eyes 💙
AND YOU GOT TO SEE THEM??? WOW that's so incredible!!! Those murals are gorgeous - I can only imagine how surreal it must've been to stand there like 🥹✨
Okay so, in order, mine are Monet's garden paintings - I don't think I have one specific favourite, but the water lilies and bridge paintings are so special to me! Love love love Monet (did see some of his work at the London MoMA!!! So special!!!).
Then we have Psyche Revived By Cupid's Kiss by Antonio Canova, which I have been very annoying about in here before lmao. It's on the Louvre and I really want to visit it 🥺 I know for a fact that I'll weep seeing it in person 🥺 (it's also my favourite myth btw 💘)
Then my most favourite is probably Portrait Of A Lady by Gustav Klimt. I've been in love with it for a million years now 💙 HERE:
Everyone talks about The Kiss or Adele or any other with his famous patterns like Death and Life and The Virgins, etc etc. But for some reason Portrait Of A Lady makes me go all fuzzy and warm and teary-eyed. I can't explain why. Would also love to see it in person one day - it's in an Italian museum (forgor the name).
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❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜ from the soft prompts pls? also I SWEAR if you make this angsty I will... wail in the comments but also cry bc I enjoy torturing myself and like pain -🍂
I assume you wanted Portada (Ace x Yara) for this heheh
There are references to the anime (and the Ace light novel) but no actual spoilers.
“So Pops is really sending you to take on Bohemian Knight Doma all by yourself?”
“Yeah!” Ace grinned, flexing an arm. “Pretty great, huh?”
Yara shrugged. “I mean, it’s smarter than sending the fleet if we don’t need to. Doma might be stupid enough to encroach on the Whitebeard Pirates’ territory, but he’s not going to turn down a one-on-one challenge when the alternative is facing an entire armada.”
“That’s true, too.” He laughed. “I know I only got this mission because Pops is testing me, but I feel good.” As if to prove his point, a small burst of fire flared out of his fingertips, flames quickly engulfing his entire hand.
“Well, Fifth Division will be lying in wait should you need backup.”
“Pssshh, backup. I’ll kick his ass before he even--”
“Hey, Ace!”
Ace perked up at the familiar voice, glancing over to where a blue-haired man wearing a masquerade-like mask stepped off the gangplank and onto the deck of the Moby Dick. “Any news?”
“Yes. I’ve got the striker operational again. It should be good to go for your mission.”
“Great! Thanks, Deu!”
Masked Deuce smiled, giving his friend-- and former captain-- a polite bow before striding off.
Ace turned back to Yara, grinning. “See?”
Yara tried not to smile as she shook her head. “I still think that thing is a death trap. If you fall off of it while riding the waves, there won’t be anyone around to haul your ass out of the water. The fact that Deuce designed it and not you is the only thing giving me a shred of hope.”
“Hey!” He pretended to be insulted. “I can build stuff.”
“Your attempt at fixing the starboard anchor tells me otherwise.”
“Well, maybe the anchor was being a jerk.”
Yara finally gave in, her shoulders shaking as she laughed, and Ace felt as if he’d won the lottery. His chest puffed up, pleased.
“So…” She leaned back against the wall. “You’ve got your orders, and your-- I hesitate to call it a ‘ship’... Is there anything else you need?”
“How about a kiss before I go?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Ace’s entire face went beet red. He laughed nervously, waving his hands in the air as Yara’s smile vanished, raising an eyebrow at him instead. “Kidding, kidding!! You don’t have to, um… because we’re not-- I mean… Sorry. Bad joke.”
“Hilarious, Portgas,” she deadpanned.
Ace’s breath hitched as she reached over, placing a finger on the brim of his hat and tugging it down ever so slightly. A shiver ran up his spine, heart drumming erratically in his ribcage. God, she was so close to him, the scent of her favourite vanilla lotion flooding his senses.
A small, bemused smile hinted at the corners of her lips as her hand lowered, and all Ace could think was how badly he wanted to catch it in his own and press kiss after kiss to her knuckles, her palm, her wrist; trailing down her arm until their chests were pressed closely together… letting himself drown in that beautiful gaze of hers as he held her against him, safe and snug…
She picked up the hat’s counterweight from where it hung against his bare chest, smoothing her thumb over the tiny cow skull embedded into the clay disc. “Just… Remember that you’re not invincible, as much as you like to pretend otherwise, Fire Fist.”
“It’s not like you to worry, Hellcat,” he couldn’t help but tease her in return.
Yara let out a soft laugh. “You are going to give me a full head of grey hair by the time I’m forty, you know.”
“And you’ll still be as beautiful as ever. Er, I mean…” Heat rose to his cheeks. “You could pull it off, I’m sure.”
“There you two are, yoi.”
They glanced over as Marco approached them, giving them an amused look. “Yara, I think Vista’s looking for you.”
“Oh. I suppose I should be off, then.” She lightly touched Ace’s arm, making his heart nearly stop. “Good luck, Ace. Even if you don’t think you need it.”
With that, she strode off, heading towards the ship’s main cabins. Ace watched her go, the air around him already feeling colder without her presence.
“You know you’re going to have to tell her someday, yoi,” Marco said, crossing his arms.
“There’s nothing to tell her.”
“Ace…” The First Division Commander’s tone was firm, yet gentle. “You can’t help how you feel.”
“I know, I just…”
“I’m already giving up on Ace, too! I don’t care if he dies or not, I’ll just tell Garp it was an accident. It’s true that the ‘devil’s children have the devil’s luck’, and Ace is the devil’s son!”
He sighed. “She deserves far better than a good-for-nothing guy like me.”
If she knew… There’s no way she could ever…
Marco didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it any further, either. The crew had begun to gather around them, cheering as they wished Ace a speedy victory. He waved back, one foot resting on the ship’s railing as he prepared to leap onto the striker, which was waiting in the water below. As he turned around, however, he caught a flash of violet hair. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to linger on her.
Yara seemed to notice, glancing over to meet his eyes. Her lips eased into a confident smile, giving him a slight nod as if to say, you got this. Butterflies burst into his stomach, his heartbeat quickening, beating out a rhythm so desperate, so desiring, so… unworthy. And yet…
Yet he would love her from afar anyways, even if it was the most he could ever do.
One Piece nakama: @auxiliarydetective @daughter-of-melpomene @xoteajays if you wanna read <3
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Rose's Kiss Week Day 6: Home Alone
OCs: Sierra Callawel and Ian Carlisle (Spinder's oldest sister and her husband)
Words: 1189
Content warnings: none
Notes: Ian's canid form is a common raccoon dog. It is also well-known that shifting to that form makes you itchy.
When Sierra looked up from her computer, she could see the full moon hanging too-large over the faraway trees outside her window. She’d lost track of time. Ian would be transformed, now, and she hadn’t seen him at all. She locked her computer and stood up. The kids were out, so making a circuit of the house wouldn’t draw them out of their rooms and interrupt the nice night she wanted to spend alone with her husband.
“Ian?” she called as she started up the stairs. “Where are you?”
She heard a mournful squeaky-toy noise from somewhere down the hall and smiled to herself as she went to find the source of it. When she flipped on the light in her bedroom, she got a louder and angrier squeak from the bed, where a golden brown and black fluff of a dog was burying his little face under his front paws.
“Sorry,” she said, going to turn on her bedside lamp before turning off the overhead light. He didn’t raise his head until she sat down on the side of the bed, and then he tried to crawl in her lap immediately.
Laughing, she held him back gently and got fully onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard before she let him snuffle his way into her space. He seemed content to put his paws across her legs and rest his head on them, but she scooped him up all the way, holding him close against her. His response was to put his paws on her arm and set his head there instead. He was probably just tired after transforming, but he always looked so cute and sad in his dog form, and it made her want to hug him tighter. So she did, pressing her cheek to the top of his fuzzy little head and then kissing him there. He let out a longer squeak, stretching his neck out further, and as she petted his head she followed his gaze to the brush he’d set out for her. Oh, of course. Grabbing it was a bit of a stretch, and she almost dumped him out of her arms accidentally, but once it was in her hand she settled him in her lap and began running it through his fur in long strokes, head to rump. Instantly he was a dog-shaped puddle in her lap, his only reaction little snuffles of pleasure.
When she paused to pull out the mat of hair that had collected in the brush, he rolled over onto his back, cradled in her crossed legs. She scratched behind his ears while she drew the brush along the contours of his ribcage and haunches and arms. He didn’t even tense as she carefully brought it over his neck and chin. As soon as she set the brush aside, though, he was getting back out of her lap, jumping down onto the floor with a cacophony of clicking nails and pausing in the doorway to look back at her. She smiled and followed him back downstairs to the kitchen, where he waited by the table while she got their dinner out of the fridge: sliced chicken, lentils, and a touch of cranberry sauce. For him, at least. She could have as much as she wanted. His was already in a bowl, so once she pried off the lid she set it in front of him on the floor. He wagged his tail but didn’t move. While she made her own plate from the main bowls of food, she saw him bend down and sniff his bowl, his eyes never leaving her.
“You can start without me,” she said.
He made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a growl and sat straight again. With a laugh she returned the food bowls to the fridge and brought her plate to the table.
“Blessed be the fruits of the earth, and us among them,” she said, and he squeaked out the same cadence before shoving his face in his bowl. She ate with half an eye on him inhaling his food, mostly because his enthusiasm was adorable.
On the way back to bed she carried him up the stairs, letting him jump down on the bed before she got into her pajamas. He didn’t stay on the bed, though, since she had to go to the bathroom to brush her teeth and he apparently had the energy now to not let her leave his sight. He brushed against her ankles where she stood in front of the sink, hopped in the bathtub, and started rolling around on the textured treads on the bottom of it. That was why he was accompanying her. He’d told her before that there was something sublime about the feeling of the bathtub treads specifically that he really couldn’t explain. He didn’t feel that way about them in human form. She didn’t care as long as he didn’t leave his fur in the tub, though she was often the one who cleared it out to take a shower anyway. But it was worth it to see him being so happy in there. When she left the bathroom, he followed, and she scooped him back onto the bed. He curled up right next to her while she read her book for a bit. After she turned out the light, he yipped along with her presleep prayer, and she gave him a last pet on the head before relaxing into the dark.
At the crack of dawn the sudden weight on the bed woke her. In the light that sifted around the edges of the curtains she could see Ian, now fully human, getting under the covers. He turned his back to her—he might not even remember that his transformation always woke her up—but she came over to him anyway, putting a hand on his side as she kissed his shoulder. When he shifted onto his back, she kissed his scratchy cheek, then gave him a peck on the lips before leaning back on her elbow to look at him. There was always something a little canine about him to her, but it was stronger when he’d just come back—the way he blinked at her like a sleepy dog melded with the way he still smelled of fur. And it was his smell, because he smelled the same if she met him in the middle of the hallway, or raiding the fridge downstairs. After he took a shower it would fade, but for now she breathed it deeply. She could never explain it to anyone but him, but these were the hours when he smelled most like himself, like her Ian.
His hand slipped into the curls at the back of her head, guiding her into a deeper kiss. She wrapped an arm around his warm chest as he smoothed his other hand over her shoulder. He kissed her a second time, then ever so gently pushed her away.
“Okay, I’m sleeping now,” he said with a tired smile.
She caressed his cheek, then laid back on her side of the bed. “Goodnight.”
RKW taglist: @jezifster @kk7-rbs @vacantgodling
Shifters taglist: @outpost51 @kk7-rbs
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