#bad end golden cassandra au

[threepandas]

Bad End: Golden Cassandra

People don't listen. Not when what your saying, scares them. Especially when, what you're saying, scares them. They like to pretend, instead. That if they don't hear you? It's not happening. Can't and WON'T happen. That you're just a liar. Speading fear, for the fun of it.

But oh, when has reality ever been that kind? That agreeable?

Tell me, WHEN has it ever bowed to the tantrums of men?

I can't think of a single instance. Knew it wouldn't now, either. So, really? What was I to do? Keep trying? Beat my head against walls of willful ignorance, until the deigned to give? Hoping, against all reason and evidence, that they MIGHT, just MAYBE, do so in the nick of time? Please. I was hopeful, not a fool. Optimism does not render a soul naive.

Like the fall of Atlantis, the sacking of Rome. Great Alexandria burning. Everything was going to be destroyed. Rather dramatically, too, and rather deservedly. I couldn't and DIDN'T defend it. Try to change it? Yes. Try to SAVE them? Absolutely. But not once, not EVER, would I defend it.

After all, it was a system built upon the backs of slaves.

Death was the only reasonable outcome. Revolution, the Voice, of those unheard and in chains. Their magic, their power, used for the convenience of their so called "betters". It was disgusting. Vile.

Set dressing, for an Otome Game.

As though their VERY LIVES, their SUFFERING and SOULS, were nothing but pretty little plot points in someone else's PLAY! The indignities they faced. The starvation and thirst. Being forced to watch friend and loved ones suffer, Scream, DIE!

But Oh, at least the Protagonist gets her handsome meat to oogle. They'll know their place, as they play along. Broken nicely and so very, VERY greatful for her scraps. She can play at revolutionary. Or perhaps at savior, should she feel the need. Assuming she doesn't leave them in chains.

And I? Oh I am supposed to play dress up and face her, in some sick "duel" of love! Abuse and use to my heart's content! The Gods jest. For I will do no such thing!

I can barely recall the plot. Only that the gloss over the rather significant socioeconomic and political fall out that is sure to follow. The Kingdom is not going to survive. Should it not be one sort of Revolutionary revolt, it will be another. Corruption, stagnation, and willful ignorance are simply too wide spread among the upper echelons. Baked too deeply into the foundations.

Gods... I... I tried.

It hurts. Like ripping out finger nails, one by one, when I finally gather enough. Not even all that I wish I could. But simply... enough. There is not enough time, the rumblings of revolution have grown too loud. I... I HAVE too go. And... and I know they won't come with me. My friends, my family, the neighbors. All those who smile, nod, and listen but don't believe a word I say.

The pain is hollowing. A truely special sort of hell.

Looking back, to little cousins on tiny legs, helping you pack. With their round little cheeks and small little hands. Watching them try to lift bags like a "grown up". Your friends and family, treating it all like a trip to the country side and not the last time you'll ever see them. The... the day being... being so accursedly normal. Mild weather and gentle breeze. Like your world isn't ending. Like everything isn't gone.

Wanting to be wrong. Traveling and traveling. Wanting to be wrong. Everything mild, calm and sweet. A hell of self doubt. Every night and every dawn. Are you insane? Were they right all along? Were you reading signs, portents of Doom, where there were none? But still... you travel. A caravan filled with your life's work.

Every scrap of modern knowledge. A copy of every work and definitive artwork. Every play, treatise, and textbook. Every old Diary I could get my hands on and endless days patrolling the book markets. A lifetime's work. All spent in hand-me-downs and out of fashion clothes, just for this. The preservation of knowledge.

But what if I'm wrong?

Fiddling with the piles of ward stones, as I get farther and farther north. Closer and closer to the land I stashed away. Hidden, within layers upon layers, of ever circling bureaucracy. A magic rich grove of Gold-leaf Ginko. They would have been harvested to oblivion, if I hadn't hidden them, and the species is already endangered.

I have been using a tower I built (in a natural clearing, as I would sooner remove my own limbs, then a single branch upon one of those trees) there as a seed bank. Every endangered magical plant species I came across? I sent as many seed as I could, to my bank. Had even begun the lengthy process of creating automatons, so they could build a green house (carefully!) into the mountain.

Seems I will have nothing but time, now, to dedicate to that project.

As I get closer, passing through the beginning of the valley towns (that lead into the high lands)? My Family Ring breaks. The terrible Crack of it, a sharp knife to the gut, splitting the morning silence. Father is... oh Gods, Father is...

Yet, even before I can come to terms with this terrible new reality? Beneath my travel cloak and jacket, nestled precious like the love it represented, my Clan Mantle begins to snap and crack like popcorn. Enchanted stone beads cracking apart violently, with the lose of the life they were made to represent. Shrapnel tearing at my clothes as I desperately rip at my cloak, my jacket, blood already welling up from various wounds.

Pop, dead. Crack, dead. Snap! Dead.

I manage to rip the heavy necklace from around my shoulders. Already half the bead are gone. More, like lethal firecrackers, shooting off even as I fling the enchanted jewelry into a nearby leather bag. Scramble for a nearby heavy blanket to cover it. Blood stains everything, dripping from shallow nicks and shrapnel wounds alike. I... oh gods, I barely notice I'm crying.

The sounds have startled the horses. One of them even got hurt. It.. it takes hours to fix. I have to stop in the next town. Shaking. Shaking. I.. I think I may be shaking. C-crying. "To remember where you came from." That's... oh god. That's what Clan Mantle's are FOR. A symbolic gift, really. They... they could never have known.

That it would actually serve it's original purpose. It's ancient purpose. The reason they USED to be made. To... to show who was still ALIVE. Oh gods. I... I can't check. Can't bear to look. The sound has stopped. Is it over? Are... is there...? Please, gods, don't make me look. Don't make me KNOW, how few members of my own family are left.

I was right. Gods, damn them.

Gods damn them all.

I was RIGHT.

Bandaged, healed, I travel faster. Time is running out. It doesn't matter, now, which "route" she took. Everything will have fallen apart. I reach my grove and don't even bother to set up a tent. Wards before all. Better to sleep on the floor, then be caught unaware. I work around the clock. Feeling like clawed fingers are ever so gently, wrapping around my throat, one at a time. Tick, tock, tick, tock. And oh, the tighter they squeeze.

Barely... BARELY! Do the wards thrum to life, deep and powerful, before I feel some almost god like crash into them. My hands shake. Still kneeling in the dirt, from where I placed the last stone, I slowly look up. And... and curling above the golden trees? Shades of copper catch the light. Massive and leaning. Stepping on my wards. Looking down in annoyance, as they refuse to part.

(Distantly, I hear the horses scream in terror. I... I wish I could do the same.)

I flee. Scrambling without dignity, back to the seed bank's tower. Trying to keep out of sight. A hopeless endeavor, I know. What other reason could such a power Dragon be out here for? If not to finish what was started? But... but hope has carried me so FAR. Can it not carry me just a bit farther?

No attacks come. No insults or threats. Yet...

The presence does not leave.

I can not hide forever, for all that fear exhausts and bids me too. All my supplies are out side. My wards, at least seem, to have held? But how can I trust it? Knowing just how strong a dragon's magis is. Sure enough, the second I step outside? There he stands. The copper dragon. Just beyond the wards.

Worse still? He is a man I recognize. Which can only invite pain and suffering, as he played no small part in the revolution. Not to mention, his significance to that damnable Game. Was he "supporting character"? A "hidden route"? An antagonist I could not quite recall? I can not place it. He was THERE, but not lead about by the nose, like the others. Not broken, as they were.

Now, here he stands, light catching off his ornaments and nails. As he tap, tap, taps them lightly against my wards. In sequence. Amused. His eyes locked with mine and glowing from within. Fire and magic made manifest. The king was a fool to think he owned this man. A "royal gaurd dog" indeed. Ha! They brought death into their house, then kicked it.

A slow smile, spreading like poison through sleeping veins, creeps across that deceptively youthful face. Sharp, sharp teeth are revealed to the air. I think I may amuse him. Perhaps I have for quite a while. I have made it no secret, after all, that I know he is dangerous. Treated him as the threat he truely IS. Others thought it was funny. Would find excuses to shove me at him, just to see me panic. All the while, he pretended, like a GOOD little dog, to be polite.

His eyes had always been laughing.

And now? He doesn't even bother to hide.

"You ran away." His voice rings out, the barest hint of rasp, like the drawing of a blade. It fills the silence. Demands attention. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to find you?"

To be honest? I had hoped no one would look. That I had given them no reason to even try. Perhaps that had been naive. I was a part of the system too, in the end. Guilt by association. That didn't explain him, however. Had I wronged him? Beyond the obvious. (And the obvious sat between us, like so much rotten filth. How could ANYONE over look that?)

"Their courts burned, just like you always warned they would. You should have seen it."

He stopped to chuckle. Closer to a sneer, then a sound of true amusement. His distain and delight intertwining as he savored the memory. He leaned closer. Letting his forehead press against the barrier. Enjoying, reliving, his moment of triumph, once again.

"Ha, ha~ Oh, but you should have seen their faces. When they realized you were right. That you had warned them and warned them, but they had refused to listen! It was glorious, darling. They howled with such regret and fear. A magnificent symphony~ you made for me."

I backed up against the carts. The wounds from broken beads stinging harshly with every shift, like the screaming of the dead. Scared. Gods, I'm s-so scared. I can't possibly have invited this... r-right? I never flirted or... or suggested anything! So-! So why is-?! Gods, why is he here?!

"You can't run from me, clever girl. Not for long. You saw me and I see you. Too clever by half. They really should have listened~!" He broke off to laugh, a sharp mockery of the dead. Fangs catching the light. "But they didn't, did they? My poor clever girl. We truely were buried by filth, weren't we? How glorious it must be. To finally be free."

"But~! Did you really think you could escape ME, my clever girl?"

"You're not nearly so foolish. Open the barrier, darling."

"Let me in. Our revolution is over, I have won."

"Now you can't escape me~"

[illadvisedselfships]

I'm here to cash in one of those gush tickets!! 🎫😌✌️ Here's an overview of notable F/Os past and present! Some of it might not mean anything to you if you don't know the fandom, and that's alright ^^ I never dreamed I'd share any of this, so I'm really grateful that you've made this little safe space here <333 And now that I've started, I can't stop! (Truly sorry I can't put this under a readmore… Large Poast incoming.) Chronologically:

First one I ever had has to be Mrs. Coulter from The Golden Compass/Northern Lights. I chose this book because it had a polar bear on the cover and I came out on the other side with… issues XD I even wrote a self-insert thing where my daemon gets severed from me and she comforts me through it (real healthy subject matter for an 11 year old ᕕ(ᐛ )ᕗ)

Lady Van Tassel from Sleepy Hollow. I traveled to Sleepy Hollow with Ichabod as his assistant or relative? And of course she corrupted me.

Now, this is the one I debated including due to the sheer goofiness 😅😅: Lily Gates from the Urbz: Sims in the City (handheld version). I liked imagining myself in the big city and being her personal assistant.

Claudia Wolf from Silent Hill 3. Ooh in this one I did something bad (unspecified) and found myself in Silent Hill with a guilty conscience. Alone and scared, I wandered through the foggy streets and ended up in the mall, and that's where I first encountered her. She took pity on me and I'll be honest, I don't really remember the rest XD idr if her being a priestess of a terrible cult factored in to this at all 😂

Actual light of my life forever: Julie Langford from Bioshock. My imagination was definitely at its best with her!! I had a really comprehensive storyline going on, starting from when I first traveled to Rapture in the bathysphere as a little girl with my family (not based on real family). Growing up and realizing I felt uncomfortable with boys, meeting Julie at a dinner party and feeling that spark but not really getting what it meant. Maybe I casually meet her another time or two after that. Coincidentally she asks me to be her assistant right as Rapture starts to fall. I see my first Splicer when I'm with her, my family also become Splicers, aaaand before long we're some of the only unspliced people left. We spend all our time together and I make her feel like she's responsible for me, we scrounge around for food and she protects me from Splicers and tenderly wipes the blood off my face and I help her out in her lab when we're not busy trying to survive, and still it feels like it takes the longest time for us to get together for real, but we do eventually. (side note: I am insane.) My daydreams have run their course I think but they were my favorite and the most vivid <333

Cersei from Game of Thrones. In this one, I'm the bastard daughter of Roose Bolton and I get sent to King's Landing for reasons unknown. Probably unrealistic! shrug I comfort her after her walk of shame and although our relationship is mildly antagonistic, she enlists me to help with, uh, the thing she does in season 6 episode 10 that involves wildfire. I am also obsessed with leech treatment in this one XD (in the books, Roose is known as the Leech Lord)(this is where the "leech" comes from on my other blog!) I got a lot of mileage from the Roose-Bolton's-bastard-daughter self insert XD In an alternate timeline, I have a thing for Lady Stoneheart (in extremely crude and basic terms, Catelyn Stark's sentient reanimated corpse), even though our families absolutely despise one another. Don't ask how I made that work, because I don't remember 💀 (A last-minute addition as I was proofreading this ask... I'm fully committing to the crazy.)

Cassandra Kiramman from Arcane. I'm actually not in the canon universe for this one. I had an AU where I was a ballet dancer and she was my instructor, haha. Also: Arcane was my introduction to x reader fic!! (though I'd been reading shipfic long before that.)

✨ Current F/Os!! ✨ Foul that it's taken me this long to get here 😑 Unfortunately, I feel like my imagination has taken a nosedive lately. I don't have storylines for these, more like little snippets of scenes. I'm in the devouring all the writing I can get my hands on stage ♥️

Yuria from Dark Souls 3 and Rennala from Elden Ring. I basically picture myself in the role of the player character ^^

I'm very into Lady Tremaine, and the Nurse from Dead by Daylight atm. With Tremaine there's just something about a buttoned-up repressed domineering woman and being the one to crack that shell just a little 😳 And with the Nurse I love the contrast between the griminess and creepiness and her sweetness. And her mori where she caresses the survivor's face 🥺 (most of the "lore" I get comes from youtube videos and reader inserts 💀)

Finally, one where they're actually in the modern world with me, since I mentioned that in a previous comment ^^ I fell in love with Maria Doyle Kennedy as Mrs. S. in Orphan Black, and during the initial lockdown in 2020, my main daydream scenario was with me becoming a lodger in her house (she's just a random person in this, not an actress). We garden and raise chickens together 🥰

I think I just cashed in all of my tickets 🙈🙈🙈 Now you probably know more about me than you bargained for 😅 This was actually incredibly fun to write. You have a great imagination - it's awesome that you're able to imagine your F/Os in multiple different scenarios and universes!! I can't really do that. Absolutely no pressure to reply right away!! 💜

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I love all this!! You have some great ideas for your F/O's!!!

1. Omg that Mrs Coulter thing is e x c e l l e n t XDD So dark and oddly soft XD Hey- as girlies we made up some pretty awful things when we were little! XD If it wasn't Barbies in the mafia it was something else!

2. I too love Lady Van Tassle- I can understand completely XD And we love some corruption! 😅😅😅 Especially if it is by a pretty lady-

3. Omg I've never heard of Lily Gates! XD She definitely fits your theme though and I support you!

4. I haven't heard of Claudia Wolf either but as soon as I read your descript and looked her up I want OH. I get it XD Priestess?? Culty?? Scary old white haired woman? I am very very intrigued XD

5. HNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG your imagination really was clear on this one!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 This whole storyline is so good, I love your brain XD Also to your 'i am insane' -- my love we all are, its okay XD

6 + 7. Cersei, huh? Absolutely cannot blame you XD And Lady Stoneheart is just s o 💗💗💗💗💗💗??????? I don't even know tis woman but 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 We love them decrepit babes.

8. Oh she's so pretty! She seems classy ^^ Thank you for your service ma'am (Introducing you to x reader fanfic XD ).

9+10. These videogame ladies look so lovely!! I cant stop thinking what amazing taste you have XD

11. LADY TREMAINE AND SALLY LADY TREMAINE AND SALLY LADY TREMAINE AND SALLY- I agree so heavily on them both, these are some great F/O's <3<3<3 Imagine Lady Tremaine using that evil eye of hers to make someone back off you or Sally touching you so so gently! <3

12. Ohhhh, thats so so so sweet!! I love this for you ^^

[rivalriotrenegade]

BatFamily Monster AU! Pt 1

Hello everybody and welcome to my Batfamily Monster AU where I mostly just write for Jason Todd. Anyways I’m just going to start this off by telling you what everybody is. 

Bruce is a purebred vampire, duh! I mean bats? Come on man, could you be any more obvious. One of the things that make him super powerful is his ability to turn into literal smoke.  

Dick is also a purebred vampire. Just one of the many reasons everyone refers to him as “the golden child” His specialty is to hypnotize people. He’s got a natural charm to him that is already working to his advantage so that just makes him all the more dangerous to criminals. He’s great when the Batfam needs someone to go undercover and/or seduce someone. :)

Right from the get go Jason was born an outcast! He was born a werewolf-demon hybrid. Werewolves and demons already have a very bad reputation as being animalistic and bloodthirsty so being both at the same time was not helping his case. As a child he got into a lot of fights over his lineage and it didn’t help with his ‘breeds’ reputation. (Idk if being resurrected makes him part zombie too?) 

Tim is a ghoul. Think tokyo ghoul only Bruce found a human meat supplement so he doesn’t have to eat human meat. (This also explains the coffee addiction.)

Damien is also kind of shunned for being a vampire-demon hybrid. Not as disliked as other hybrids but still has to deal with a lot of people whispering behind his back, especially with his dad being famous and all. (Talia is a succubus and Bruce a vampire. So yeah.)  

Barbara Gordon is a witch and her father is a human. (Her mother was a very powerful witch) 

Cassandra is a demon. A very antisocial demon so making pacts is her weak point. 

Stephanie is a very playful hunter. She didn’t agree with what her father was doing (killing ‘monsters’) and she ended up warning people that her father was going to try and hunt them. This is what led her to meet the Waynes and getting her tidal of ‘the spoiler’. 

Kori is still an alien princess. :)

Roy is kind of a mutt in this world? He’s part werewolf because he can change into a wolf but no one really knows for sure what else he is and any blood tests come up inconclusive which is very strange. But there’s a sneaking suspicion that he’s part gremlin. It’s honestly an inside joke that's not so far-fetched. 

[teleportationmagic]

Reverse Batgirls AU.

Stephanie Brown starts out young and angry, wanting to put her father in prison. That doesn't change - but what does, is the name she picks up to do it. After all, Batman is... untouchable, he's justice he's power - what more can she want as a vigilante?

A whole lot, as it turns out. But still, she wears the name with pride, patrolling with Robin (Damian!) and Cassandra, making friends with the latter. Signal's farther afield, away in Bludhaven - still, he drops by now and again to play games of rooftop tag.

Cassandra has been doing work as a vigilante in all but name for a few years now. She ping pongs around - saving enough lives to have earned herself a reputation. A reputation strong enough to have made its way into circles that knew her father. These are the people who pick her name for her, seeing her father's legacy - Orphan is not a name she chooses. But after she settles in Gotham, after Bruce comes to her one day, telling her the meaning - she cannot bring herself to call it false.

Damian still ends up leaving for bigger things. A position is open, and Bruce doesn't think it needs filling - but Stephanie has lost one teacher, and for all that Cassandra is good at violence she is not very good at teaching it. He takes her under his wing, and eventually passes down a mantle.

Steph has her own mantle to pass down. "I don't know that I can tell you who you are - who your family is. But still - I don't think me or Bruce or Damian or anyone considers you an Orphan, not anymore. Batgirl isn't - she's not as good as Orphan is. But I wanted to give her to you anyways."

Cassandra takes the purple suit with a gentle sort of consideration. It's not the suit she wears, three weeks later - but the Bat is there, golden against the dark black. Bruce smiles when she steps out of the Batcave, shrouded in darkness except for the sign of her ideals, their ideals. Robin and Batgirl and Batman fly again, capes trailing through the darkness.

Steph gets to be Robin for a while - gets to carve out her own reputation. Her and Damian fight, and the reconcile, and fight again. It takes her a little bit longer to figure out why he's so angry, takes him a little longer to realize why she wants it so bad.

It helps, that Stephanie is two years older than Cassandra, but still its difficult for them to fight together. She still perceives her own presence as superfluous, and Cassandra still thinks it is her job to take bullets so no one else has to. They have a chat, under a dark alcove when Stephanie is bandaging her wounds, about pain, and the taking thereof. About balance. About how Robin was a superhero too.

Cassandra leaves Gotham, on occasion - she partners with Signal, Katana, and Black Lightning. She meets her mother there, for the first time. She won't know it, not until later, but they clash, fists against metal. This is the first time she dies, and she comes back to life with the worried eyes of her teammates.

She still gets shot. There's no gang war, but there is Roman Sionis with greedy hands and eyes, and five days followed by two clicks, two bangs. The hospital tells her she's lucky to still be standing. The word luck curls on her tongue, like something bitter.

Cassandra still tears through the city looking for her. But when she finds her, when she recovers, something settles into Stephane's skin - something bitter and angry. Cassandra can see it, even when she pretends at lightness, the jealousy and rage. Stephanie knows she sees it. This does not make things better.

Bruce takes the injury... badly. His hold tightens on all four of them. Damian and Steph take it with no small amount of anger - Bruce is not allowed in the Brown family home and Damian leaves for the Titans, again. Cassandra follows Duke to Bludhaven, pulling on his operations to set up her own. The end result is Duke's home being slowly invaded by a girl who becomes his sister.

This does not help Bruce - with no one to keep him steady, he spirals, paranoia whispering into one ear and rage into another. Tim still comes out of the woodwork, with memories of the way a dark haired kid twisted out of the hold of a particularly pushy partyguest (followed by a silent swordfight through a different hallway) inspiring a half-decades worth of trying to scratch an itch, before coming across the perfect answer.

Cassandra still leaves for answers. Bit by bit, it becomes unignorable - Shiva is her mother, undoubtedly. She limps back to Duke's home to share it between shaking sobs, and stories about all the dead men she left in the snow. He tells her in return about his father - biological and not. And he's angry on her behalf, she can see that - but still, there is warmth for her here. There is always warmth for her here. Even when she leaves burn marks on the ceiling and takes up the bathroom for hours at a time, even on those rare days where he seems so tired and she cannot do anything right - still, she has a place here. Their twin gold and black suits become fixtures of the Bludhaven skylines.

It's across the dinner table that Steph realizes she might be able to get back into the game. Her father is loud, boisterous, after leaving prison. He doesn't think she can do anything about it.

She can.

After the first time, its tempting to try a second, third. Rolling into bars with a licence that gives her a few more years, chatting up men who have lips too loose. Other times, she calls up wives, asks about schedules for a date nights or when their kids will need daycare, mapping out plans and places. In the beginning she sent these files to the GCPD, for all the good they'd do. Later, she gives them to Damian, a stack of neatly arranged notes and observations that he pours through with all the seriousness of a monk. There's something important in the first time she calls up Cass and asks her to follow up on a lead. She comes by her home later, with a hello and a fruit tart.

When she asks her what she calls herself in the field, Stephanie shrugs. She keeps a lot of different names - her own amongst them.

"The GCPD asked." Cassandra had said, one cold night. "You - you do the same thing now. That we did before. Differently, not like Robin, but still like one of us." There's a heavy pause that lingers for a moment, dull and heaving. "You should have a name."

And it might be silly, might be stupid, but Steph's been doing this long enough and seen enough plans fall apart because of the way that small details, when brought into the light, can bring a whole structure tumbling down. Spoiler is born, with a purple mask over dark fabric. It's a ceremonial thing, she'll admit, but it's the principal of the matter yanno?

Part 2 (ft. Babs) coming later. This is very much long enough.

Ages:

Duke: He starts vigilanting at 16, but as he hits his 19-20s he wants to put a little bit more distance between himself and Bruce - wants to prove himself as an individual who can bring to bear his own stregnths. His mother recovers, but his dad never really does - there's a heavy sense of grief, associating with him. They love his father, together, but while his mother does her own mourning he can't help but think it's premature. He's 20 when Batgirl comes around, and 23 when he agrees, tentatively, to work with Bruce on the outsiders.

Damian: Starts at 12, and is 16 once Batgirl starts. He's much more secure in his place, ironically, but Batman and Robin is a much lonlier job than it is in a sideways reality. Duke brings some light to the job, but once he starts trying to make his own way, things grow... quiet. And while the Titans are together for the purpose of combining their shared competencies for the sake of missions, Garth, he cannot deny that his time with them eases something in him that he didn't know was aching. After he turns 18 - after it seems all his time with Robin was actually Bruce's, after years of chafing under a heavy-handing authority he's not certain he still respects, he finally decides to create something new. Nightwing is born, from a Kryptonian legend, and he leaves Robin behind to become this new thing.

Steph starts Batgirl at twelve, and is Robin halfway through fourteen. She keeps it for two years, before it falls apart at 16. Spoiler is born a year later, when she's seventeen and looks nonthreatening, but can be the exact opposite.

Cass: Starts doing vigilante work... very young. By the time she's caught up with the Bats, she's ten and experienced, and its only a few more months before Steph joins them. She takes up Batgirl at twelve, and keeps it all the way through to twenty-one, when it finally comes time to pass it down again, to evolve into something new.

[achillieus]

we’re fools (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 3/3:

Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.

“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.

Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.

A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.

He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.

“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.

“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”

A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.

She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.

-

(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)

-

“Did you just kiss me?”

His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.

“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”

��Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love.  Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.

“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.

His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.

And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong doll?”

“Can we stop?”

There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.

“Thank God you asked.”

“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”

A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.

And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.

/

Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.

Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.

/

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.

“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”

It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.

“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”

You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.

“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.

/

It goes like this;

People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.

People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.

You really have to try to be oblivious to love.

/

(text messages between classes)

(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex

(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell

(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a  “🍆🍆🍆” playlist

(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???

(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing

(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you

(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3

/

It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease.  He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.

And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.

/

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.

But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.

“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”

“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.

“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”

He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.

“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.

And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.

/

“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.

“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”

/

(AH IT’S FINISHED BUT YAY THEY’RE IN LOVE)

tagging: @tonystankschild @osterfieldshollandgirl​ @roguesthetic @buckyjms​ @ohladymacbeth​

[kokoro--nerd]

Random Beladonna AU: Pets

1. (Owner: Donna | Pet: Bela)

Donna is a gardener and Bela is a golden retriever.

Donna found Bela abandoned and alone in the cold and nursed her back to health.

When Donna first found Bela, the dog was feral and didn't trust anyone. She snapped, whined, and barked to no end. However, Donna was patient as she tended to Bela's wounds.

Bela quickly enjoyed the attention and pampering (and treats) she was getting from Donna. She also liked how nice she smelled: flowers and sweetness.

Once Bela was better, Donna found the original owner, Alcina, and learns that Bela has two other 'sisters' of different breeds. Contacting the owner, Alcina explains Bela was chasing off an intruder with her sisters and somehow got injured and lost in the process.

Upon seeing how attached Bela was with Donna, Alcina asks if Donna would like to adopt Bela. Donna accepts.

Bela immediately becomes the guard dog for Donna's garden (and she's damn good at her job).

Bela always demands cuddles, even when she's all muddy.

Bela hates the cold and demands cuddles for warmth.

Bela really likes skin-to-skin contact with Donna at all times. Donna can pet Bela's head for hours if they wanted to.

Through Bela, Donna learns to be more playful and relaxed, not to take everything seriously. Donna finds herself always yearning to pet and hold Bela when she has bad days.

2. (Owner: Bela | Pet: Donna)

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela are college students living in a rented home. Alcina is a (insert large, elegant dog breed) and strangely acts as the mother to three college kids.

As much as Bela loves having a dog to share with her 'sisters' (they are definitely in a sorority), she wants a pet of her own.

At the shelter, she meets Donna, a black cat with a serious scar on her right eye. The cat is timid and backs away from anyone trying to pet her. Rarely, she lashes out but she will if she is pushed too much.

The shelter tells Bela that Donna will soon be put down if she doesn't get adopted soon. To everyone's surprise, Bela is able to pet Donna after a few gentle 'good girls' and treats.

Bela adopts Donna, seeing that she couldn't leave the poor kitty to her shelter fate. Immediately, Alcina seems to take Donna in under her wing (for a moment, the kitty was scared of the dog but after Bela coaxing her, the kitty relaxed).

At first, Donna doesn't get along with Cassandra and Daniela (lashes out at Cass).

Bela is patient with Donna over the next few weeks, earning her trust.

After a while, Donna stays loyal to Bela. She always purrs around her, wants cuddles from her, and even accept kisses. Donna seems comfortable with Bela

Donna sleeps by Bela's head at night, she always wakes the kid up a minute before the alarm rings, and brings Bela presents from outside.

Donna is a weird cat because she befriends a little mouse (Angie?) that sticks around with her. In fact, Donna doesn't kill mice. Whenever she leaves presents for Bela, the animal is always alive.

Donna is a picky eater. She likes dry food only

Donna loves having her paws rubbed like a hand massage.

BONUS

Human Donna and Human Bela meet (they never met before) and discover that their pets are named after each other. What a coincidence! Pet Donna and Pet Bela seem to get along too!

Human Alcina and pet Alcina meet. Weird that everyone has the same name.

[blarfkey]

Writing Tag Game

I've been tagged by like ten people for this so thank you everyone who tagged me! @redinkofshame, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @kunstpause Consider yourself tagged if you see it and like it.

How many works do you have on Ao3?

38!

What's your total Ao3 wordcount?

702,253. I would love for it to be more but I am a slow writer lol

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Woodstock 83 --3480 Kudos

Xmen fic set after Apocalypse where Peter keeps getting these golden opportunities to tell Magneto/Erik that he's his son, and keeps chickening out at the last minute.

I know I wasn't the only one who walked out of that movie theater pissed that Peter came so close to admitting this secret since the previous movie and never did, so I wrote a fix it.

2. The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes -- 2567 Kudos

The sequel to Woodstock 83, told in Magneto's POV where he's coming to terms with being a father while he cares for his sick son. This is probably my fav X-Men fic I've ever written because I loved having these two figure out what their father/son relationship would be like long after Peter has grown up and how Erik has wanted a child again but doesn't know how to process having one.

3. Jail Break -- 2488 kudos

The first Peter & Magneto fic I ever wrote and the first fic I ever published! This takes place post Days of Future Past and it shows how Magneto could have found out that Peter was his son and build that reluctant connection. Peter has a lot of freaking out about whether or not he wants to accept a supervillain as his father.

4. Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right -- 2396 Kudos

The third part of the series Jail Break Started. For some reason this is the most popular one shot in the series. In it, Peter has a huge fight with Magneto and then gets kidnapped by The Bad Guys and doesn't think his dad will come bail him out. But of course he does! And murders everyone in the compound to do it.

5. Two Lonely Souls in a Fish Bowl -- 2361 Kudos

The direct sequel to Jail Break where Magneto keeps showing up in the dead of night to visit Peter as they both figure out how they want this weird parent relationship to be.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! Even if it takes me a while. I love the interaction and I want people to feel noticed and appreciated.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Um, i don't really like angst. I think it would be Spark Me Up for Xmen. Professor X/Magneto angst with my first ever written smut. It was a remix of another person's fic for an exchange and they had an angsty ending so I kept it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

The last installment in the Jail Break/Come Together Series -- Shine On You Crazy Diamond. In it, Peter's little sister Wanda comes into her powers and they go through a lot of pain before she settles into them. It ends with Peter's mom coming to stay with them and her, Peter, Wanda, Erik, and Charles becoming one big family. I've had several people tell me it made them cry lol.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I'll write something like a set of characters from one fandom in the set up/premise of another fandom/piece of media. Like Dear Fen'harel is a crossover of Dragon Age with an old book called Dear Daddy Long Legs. But I don't combine different universes of different fandoms, it's too weird for me and I can't buy into it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

took over and finished. We have an AU in our plans but so many other fics keep getting in the way! Sort of? I wrote the first part of a Solas/Maria/Varric series that@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I did receive a weird, angry message on one of my Xmen fics because they didn't like a fight that had happened between two characters but didn't read till the end to see it resolved so the bitched at me for the fact that the fight was mean? Which made no sense. But other than that, nope.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! Though it's not as much as my non-smut. I didn't write smut for so many years because I didn't think I knew how. I tried to write some out a few years ago and kept it to myself until one of my tumblr friends read it and said it was really good! So shout out to @salexectria, you're the reason why I write and publish smut!

I write all kinds of smut, from dub con to vanilla, from f/f, m/m, and ace spectrum characters. Its all about the characters and what would fit them/the situation more than it is about a specific type of sex.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I don't know about it.

What's your all time favourite ship?

Ummmmmm, that's hard. I don't think I have an all time favorite. I will say that Charles/Erik (Professor X/Magneto) was my first ever "otp" that I got completely obsessed with. Actually, I have never been that obsessed with another pairing. I write pairings that I enjoy or that I want to see a certain dynamic from, but that doesn't make them my favorite above all others.

I do really love Solas/Cadash and I prefer Solas rare pairs like Solas/Dorian, Solas/Cassandra, and Solas/Josephine over Solavellan.

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I will never not finish a WIP. I hate it when it happens, even though I know IRL gets in the way, but it's so frustrating for me as a reader. So I will finish all my fics. However, I am very slow and very busy so it may take a while.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and character voice. I also am really good at developing friendships and platonic bonds or the slow burn get-to-know-you part of a romance. Apparently I write good smut, though its very hard for me lol.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and transitions and pacing.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

The only thing that bothers me is if they never put in a translations somewhere and you have to just kind of guess. I don't care about reading something in another language and having a footnote or a note at the end of the chapter. I do it all the time in DF. I do think that putting "said in {insert language here}" is a bit of a cop out.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The first ever fandom I wrote for and never published was Harry Potter at 13. I wrote a story about a muggle neighbor who had to emergency babysit the baby Weasleys and was shocked by the magic. But I tried to submit it to a website that only published fic by application and it didn't get in and I was like "whatever, I'll just read fic" and then didn't touch fanfic again until I was . . .24 or 25 lol. I mostly focused on my original fiction.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

I can't possibly have one favorite. I do really love my Peter fics, especially The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes. I love my ACO fic with Apollo!Alkibiades. I love my Solas/Cassandra friendship fic Time Does Not Bring Relief. And I love Dear Fen'harel, of course, because it has so many things I wanted to change for Solavellan or didn't find, as well as a good analysis of myself and how I deal with anger and sorrow and homesickness, ect. through Ellana.

[magewardensurana]

Dear Creator Letter

Under the Cut!

First of all thank you so much for taking on my prompts, I’m looking forward to seeing whatever it is you create for me!

Okay, general DNWs:

Racism, homophobia, misogynistic language, incest or pseudo incest, sexual content outside of what would be canon appropriate, pretty much every kink going, imbalanced power dynamics, soulmates, rape, animal or child abuse, animal death, AUs (coffee shop, no powers, highschool/uni etc), Avengers Endgame-Complaint fics.

Now onto my Do Wants

Found family, angst with a happy ending, casefics, bisexual ladies coming to their bisexuality later in life, bisexual ladies who knew all along, bisexual ladies who chose men over women (a given for this event), AUs that take canon and make it a little different.

My writing on AO3 is a good indication of what I like, and feel free to check out my tumblr for a good idea of my kind of jam.

Fandom Specific (honestly though these are just prompt ideas. If you have something else in mind go for it)

MCU

I’m not a big fan of Endgame, or most of Infinity War, so if you want to go ‘to hell with this, everyone lives’ then I am more than okay with that. If you want Thanos to have been killed shortly after GOTG2 because Nebula tracked him down and stabbed him in the dick until he died from it then I’m also okay with that.

Carol/Maria - I’d love something pre-canon with these two. Their backstory is so interesting, especially when you factor in they were co-parenting and dating under DADT. I’d also love lots of interactions with Monica&Carol and Mar Vell and Carol. if you want to go for a casefic then, since I do love Natasha, Carol vs a Red Room Loyal Black Widow?

Carol/Valkyrie - Anything post-Ragnarok with the Asgardians (all of them, even the dead ones. Canon is dead and we killed it) on Earth, Would love: a lot of Carol interacting with the Revengers and Valkyrie interacting with literally any female characters because the MCU is bad at that.

Sarah/May - So much potential with these two. Blended families! Second loves! Dating while older and with kids!  I know Sambucky is a logical sistership to this pairing but I’m not a fan of that ship.

Dragon Age

Cassandra/Literally Any Of The Female Protagonists - Big fan of ‘Cass should’ve been bi’ so I’d like something exploring this. I’d like something set during DAI (so after the death of her boyfriend) with Cass coming to realisations about her sexuality. However you want to write the Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor is fine but my preference is for Surana, Sarcastic/Aggressive mage!Hawke and mage Adaar. I don’t like Anders so if you ever want to throw in some Anders hate then I’m fine with that.

Josie/Bela - I’d love something post-DAI with Josie taking Bela home to meet her family, or Josie as a member of Bela’s pirate crew (and putting her diplomatic skills to good use)

Marquis of Serault/Well Read Pig Farmer - I just want anything involving my favourite former Tevinter magister.

Fire Emblem

Three Houses - my preference is for the Crimson Flower route, but if you want to go the angst route of Byleth and El are fighting against each other then Golden Deer is my favourite path. I also love AUs where the three Lords (or four, counting Yuri) team up with each other to fight against TWSITD. Other than that I have no preferences for what you want to do with any of the ships.

Blazing Blade - I’d love to see post FE7, pre-FE6 stuff, with Lyn and Florina being involved in their friends’ lives. Lyn teaching Roy swordfighting, Florina teaching Lilina how to ride a Pegasus. Plus, lots of interacting with Farina and Ninian (especially if you want to build on the Ninian and Florina friendship). Or if you want to do what they were up to during FE6 I’d love that too.

Awakening - No preferences here.

Resident Evil

Rebecca/Claire - AU where Rebecca is still in Racoon City and teams up with Claire and Sherry? Vendetta AU where Claire is there too? Chris and Jill are getting married and neither Claire or Becca have dates and go together? I don’t really mind. For RE2 canon I prefer the 1998 storyline (Claire A/Leon B) but if you only know the remake then that’s fine, or if you want to mix canons that’s also fine. For past relationships I love the angst Burnfield gives Claire but Billy and Rebecca I see as completely platonic.

Jill/Ada - Normally I’m a strictly Valenfield and Aeon kind of woman but I have a weakness for this ship. Jill is heavily associated with the colour blue, has blonde or brown hair depending on the game and is completely on the side of justice. What I’m saying is: she’s Ada’s type. I love the idea of Ada being at the police station early and running into Jill while she’s there in RE3. I’m also a fan of Ada trying to save Jill in RE5 when she realises it’s her actions in Spain that led to Jill’s brainwashing.

Ace Attorney

I don’t have any preference just as long as there’s no Franmaya, which is my NOTP or the Bad Cykesquill (Simon/Athena. Not only is the age difference too high, but they have a sibling relationship and Simon is clearly gay). I tend to headcanon Klaiver and Ema used to date but Mia and Godot never did. Background Wrightworth is always a plus.

FMA Manga//Brotherhood

Oliver/Maria - Honestly it’s not hard to see what I like when it comes to this ship because the AO3 tag is 99% written by me. Put Olivier in suspenders and holding a sword and I’m a happy woman.

Rose/Paninya - a woman whose town was destroyed in riots and a woman who has found a love of doing repair work? And they’re both friends with Winry who is more than happy to play matchmaker? The pairing writes itself. I know that the 03 anime gave Rose a dead boyfriend, but the manga never specifies. They’re lesbians, Harold.

Dishonored

Emily/Alexi - Wyman? I don’t know her! I love AUs where Alexi lives and is on the Dreadful Wale during the events of the game. Also a big fan of Jess Lives AUs if you want to have Emily attempting to court her childhood best friend/bodyguard while her amazingly embarrassing parents cheer her on. And I love the AUs where both Corvo and Emily are the co-protagonists (especially marked!Corvo, flesh and steel!Emily). I ignore the canonical age difference between Corvo and Jess and put them both as being in their late teens when they met. Basically anything where Alexi is still alive and not going to die is a good fic. If you want to include Wyman at all my preference is for female Wyman since I see Emily as a lesbian. Either she and Emily are exes on good terms or have always been just friends.

Anyway, I think that’s everything. Thank you again!

[e-vasong]

hi!! I just wanted to ask about the daemon AU--do you have a headcanon abt when their daemons would settle? or did they just settle after puberty? Did 5's daemon settle before or after the apocolypse?

AH!! this is such a good question.  I’m gonna put a cut after this first bit, though, because I took a simple question and accidentally...wrote a 2k thing that kinda straddles the line between answering your question and being a freeform fic? whoops.

Okay.  So I think all the kids probably settle a little later than normal for most people.  It’s been a while since I read the books, but I recall that most daemons, though not all, settle towards the start of puberty.  I headcanon that trauma is one of the things that can push that process back, and all the Hargreeves kids have that in abundance.  Not to mention that I don’t think isolating your kids from a normal childhood and forcing them into a vigilante lifestyle is exactly helpful for their development.

Luther settles first, a day after their thirteenth birthday.  It happens without much fanfare, while they’re resting at home after a mission.  There’s not much a golden retriever can do on a mission that another animal can’t do just as well or better, and Reginald really emphasizes the utility of their daemons above all else.  But sometimes Luther likes to let Amalthea turn into big, soft things when their dad isn’t looking.  He likes them, even if Diego mocks him relentlessly for it.  And that afternoon Amalthea plops down on his chest and turns into a golden retriever, licking at his chin to comfort him after the verbal excoriation their father had given them after the mission had gone wrong at every possible turn.  It’s a miracle none of them were hurt.  That scares Luther more than anything else.  How close he’d come to failing and getting someone killed.  And they don’t even realize that she’s settled until like an hour later when they’re headed downstairs and Amalthea tries to shift back into a form that their father will find dignified and just...can’t.

Klaus settles next much to everyone’s surprise.  It happens a few months after Luther.  Their father has them locked in the crypt again, and it’s particularly bad tonight.  Klaus can see them everywhere, tearing at his clothes, clawing at his skin, and he can barely breathe.  They go after Cassandra just as eagerly as they do him, but she’s harder to catch.  Suddenly she’s a falcon, an ermine, a rat scuttling through a new hole in the wall that their father must have missed.  And then she’s outside.  Twelve, thirteen feet away maybe, and it pulls at the connection between them, almost to the point of being painful.  Hurts enough to gear Klaus out of his catatonic haze and get him to push through the throng of ghosts just to get a couple feet closer to her.  And then Cassandra is a cicada, fluttering up to the lock.  And then she’s a raccoon, clawing futilely at it with those deft, clever fingers, but unable to work it open without anything to jimmy the lock open with.  Yet she’s also trapped by their bond, unable to venture and look for something to use.  And so she tries to shift back to rat, to get back inside, and just.  Doesn’t.  Can’t.  So Klaus stills his breathing long enough to stumble over to the door of the crypt, pressing his back flat against it and trying to still his breathing.  Cassandra curls up in a small ball in front of the door.  And they stay like that all night, until their father comes to let them out in the morning.

Allison, Diego, and Vanya all settle pretty close together, towards the end of their thirteenth year and the start of their fourteenth.

Allison settles on a mission.  She’s so busy rumoring a bad guy into killing his friends that she doesn’t notice the one behind her until Diego drops to the ground with a muffled cry of pain.  She makes a noise, a hoarse-sounding scream of shock and surprise.  But she’s well-trained enough to wrestle her gut reaction under control quickly.  She whips around, a rumor already on her lips, but before she can say anything Alexander is there.  A flash of muted gold and black, not hulking but still larger than she expects.  He jumps, first onto a table.  The spring inside a loaded gun.  Fifty pounds of coiled muscle and snarling rage.  Then he leaps again, surprisingly agile.  There’s a flash of canine, long and sharp.  The man dies with a gurgle, and when Alexander pads over to Diego’s injured body, licking at their brother’s face with concern, Allison sees that those white teeth are bloody and red.

Diego settles during one of their sneak-outs.  They’re walking along the pier, eating fish tacos they bought from a vendor nearby.  Ben is reading as they walk, flipping pages idly.  He’s not paying attention to where they’re going, though Luther keeps trying to get him to put the book down.  But then Diego had told Luther to lay the fuck off, and that had turned into a whole thing, and Ben’s still reading his book.  If Five were here, there wouldn’t be any concern about it.  He’d had that sort of quiet, watchful way about him, where you knew that even if he wasn’t actively stopping you from doing something, he was still keeping an eye out to make sure it didn’t kill you.  If Five were here, he’d have made them take Vanya.  If Five were here...

But he isn’t.  He’s probably off somewhere, living happily away from their father and from them.  Asshole.  It’s an uncharitable thought, and Guinevere would bite him for it if he said it out loud, but Diego is so caught up in his anger that he doesn’t see Ben walk into the pole until its too late.  

Ben swears, hands flying to his face automatically.  Klaus bursts into hysterical laughter.  Allison’s gasps, putting a hand to her mouth.  Ben’s book tumbles out of his hands and into the water, and Guinevere--also laughing--follows it, turning small and furry as she does.  She doesn’t catch it before it gets soaked, but she gets the book in her teeth and paddles over to a small ladder that drops down off the dock.  Ben turns to thank her, but Diego is too distracted to catch what he says.  Diego just settled, he’s pretty sure.  He can feel it in his bones.  He’d kind of been hoping for something that would prove once and for all that he’s better than Luther, but frankly their father isn’t going to be any more pleased with otter than golden retriever.  That’s kind of a bummer.  But when he kneels down to let Guinevere scramble up his arm and around his neck, he can’t really bring himself to care.  She’s Gwen, and he’s Diego, and if their father has anything to say about it?  Well then.  He can go fuck himself.

Vanya settles that winter.  She’s playing her violin in the living room.  Ben is sitting nearby.  They aren’t hanging out, not exactly.  None of her siblings really hang out with her, not since Five, but Ben maybe comes the closest.  Calliope usually takes the form of a cat, winding around Vanya’s ankles as she plays.  She used to turn into a capuchin sometimes, to flip the pages of Vanya’s music, but Io has more or less soured Vanya on monkey daemons these days.  But still.  Things are nice, and today they are in a particularly good mood.  Ben’s company is comforting; it’s nice not to be alone; and Vanya hasn’t missed a single note.  So today, Calliope flutters up onto her shoulder and sings along with her.  And she never changes back.  And when Vanya shyly shows her to their family later, Reginald sniffs, disdainful, having barely spared them a flicker of a glance.  Just a songbird, he says dismissively.  And that is that.

(And later, years and years later, Leonard peers into the veil of Vanya’s hair.

“Is that your daemon?” he asks affably.  He looks unbothered by the way Vanya cringes.  His orb weaver is crawling up the sleeve of his shirt, looking almost like a toy or a strange decorative pin.

“Yeah,” Vanya says.  Cal is a bundle of fluffed-up feathers nestled in the crook of Vanya’s neck.  She huddles in closer at the sight of Leonard’s attention.

“What is she?” Leonard asks, then holds his hands up apologetically.  “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Just a songbird.”

“Just a songbird?” Leonard echoes.  He leans in closer.  “Hey, she’s a...great tit, right?  I’ve read about those.”

“Oh?” Vanya asks, bracing herself for whatever is going to come next.  Leonard is a nice guy; she’s sure he means well.  It doesn’t mean that what he says next isn’t going to hurt.

“Yeah,” Leonard smiles at her.  “You’re right.  They are songbirds.  But they’re more than that.”

Vanya pauses, lifts a hand to her hair uncertainly.  She hadn’t expected that.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m surprised your family didn’t ever say anything to you, I have to admit.  They are songbirds, Vanya.  But they’re hunters too,” Harold says.  There’s wonder in his eyes, and when Vanya looks up to meet his gaze, he just smiles.)

Ben, like Luther, settles without much fuss.  Once a week, since they turned ten, they’ve had a designated time to try out new forms for their daemon.  Their father brings out books on zoology.  Gives them specimen after specimen to try.  Ben isn’t quite sure that this is how it’s supposed to work.  All accepted science suggests that settling is half a physical affair and half a mental one.  It’s not just about finding the right shape, it's about state of mind as well.  Amalthea is a golden retriever, but if she had tried that form when Luther was eight, Ben doubts that she would have settled.  But their father doesn’t much seem to care, nor does he seem to understand.  Then again, Io and their father have a dynamic that Ben doesn’t quite get either.  They seem less like human and daemon and more like warden and prison guard.  But maybe that’s just Ben projecting.

Melpomene takes to their father’s training with more courage than Ben does.  His stomach hurts; he wishes that he could go back to bed. This is worse now.  All the others have settled, and Ben’s been doing this part of their training alone for almost a year.  But Mel is braver than Ben is, and she takes the lead.  So they go down the list, while their father watches with those piercing eyes.  Io is perched on the desk, lips drawing back from his teeth whenever Ben so much as twitches a muscle in the wrong direction.

Mel turns into a large octopus.  A cassowary.  A vulture, a great Philippine Eagle, a Sumatran rhino, a spectacled caiman.

And then she stops.  Tries to shift again.

“I’m stuck,” Mel declares, sounding just as surprised as Ben feels.  Their father’s back straightens, and it’s the nearest thing he’s ever given Ben to pride.  He peers over his spectacles.  Nods.

“This is acceptable,” their father says, like there’s any other option.  It’s not like Ben can do anything about it, but he holds his tongue and stares at the floor again.  A predator.  A scary one, not like Guinevere or Amalthea.  Even Alexander is cuddly.  Crocodilians, though, people hate.  This isn’t how Ben wanted his settling to go.  He hadn’t wanted their father to be right.

Ben’s stomach twists.  He feels something nudge against the inner lining of his gut, like it’s trying to escape, and ignores it.

“Dismissed, Number Six,” their father says, and when Ben turns to go his eyes feel wet.

And Five...Ugh.  I’m debating how much of this I want to share, because I actually have this scene written elsewhere?  But Five settles last.  Five settles last by no small margin, not just chronologically, but by age as well.  Five settles late even among other late bloomers.  He settles when he’s eighteen.  Approximately.  It’s hard to keep track of days in the Apocalypse; Five is good with numbers and has a great memory, but it’s been five years by this point and the days are starting to blur, even for him.  The lateness of his settling comes from a combination of trauma, a lack of socialization, and the fact that he is desperately trying to avoid it.  He and Dolores keep a list of forms that they know are safe, forms that she’s taken again and again and hasn’t settled in yet.  

Because in the Apocalypse, an unsettled daemon is an incredible asset.  She can be a hawk, fluttering up to a roof to scout for places to salvage.  A wolf, sniffing out supplies.  An elephant, moving rubble and bricks so they can turn what remains of the library’s atrium into a makeshift shelter.  And a bear, warm and hardy.  That form’s kept Five from freezing to death for the past several winters.  But the thing about nature is that it always finds a way.  They can only fight it for so long.  And one night Five wakes up, and Dolores is a snake, and she can’t shift out.  She’s cold, too.  The night temperatures are too much for her now.  

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, she says to Five, almost frantic with it.

It’s fine, he tells her as she curls up under his jacket, soaking up the warmth radiating from his chest.  You’re beautiful.  It sounds like a lie.  It kind of feels like one too, even though he means it. 

This should be a wonderful thing.  It would have been, under almost any other circumstances. 

They do make it, of course.  We know that.  Five is clever and he is determined and he has no choice but to survive.  He will accept no other outcome, and he’s right in that.  They suffer, but they live.  They win and they get back to their family.  

In the moment, though, they are just a seventeen-year-old boy and his daemon, entirely alone in a world that doesn’t care whether they live or die, and it mainly feels like a death sentence.

(BUT THEN ALSO THEY ALL REUNITE WHEN FIVE TIME TRAVELS BACK AND BEN COMES BACK TO LIFE SOMEHOW AND LEARNS SELF LOVE AND THEY ALL RECOVER FROM THEIR TRAUMA TOGETHER YEE HAW)

[michellemagic]

WMMAP x Tangled AU

Hiya! This is my crack at a Tangled x WMMAP au. Made with love for @athy-n-lucas ‘s crossover writing event! If you wanna see more stuff like this check the Suddenly Became a Fan One Day discord server! Please enjoy reading!

Warning: Slight Language

Athanasia felt numb as Jennette took the flowers out of her hair. She should have known better. Father told her falling in love with that criminal would just bring her heartache in the end, but she fell anyways and now look at her.

“I finished taking out the flowers father.” Athanasia could feel Jennette’s hand softly disentangle from her hair. Her sister was back to her usual self, soft and timid. Nothing like the bright, energetic girl who danced for hours in the Empire’s courtyard.

Their father came up to expect her hair before nodding, pleased with Jennette’s quick work.

“Good.” His dark eyes turned to hers. “Like it never happened.”

He gestured to Jennette to come to him and she quickly rose with the basket of discarded flowers in her hands. He murmured something quietly to her which caused her to nod quickly before she swiftly exited the room.

“Now, wash up for dinner.” Her father ordered her firmly,” Your sister has agreed to make hazelnut soup.”

Athanasia’s favorite. It seemed her father wanted to make up for how horribly the night before had ended by asking Jennette to make her favorite. She didn’t move though, her body still felt numb and washing up was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. Something her father picked up on quickly.

“I really did try Athanasia.” Her father’s started, sounding quite sorry. “I tried to warn you what was out there.”

“The world is dark and selfish and cruel. If it finds even the smallest ray of sunshine.” Athanasia flinched softly at the sound of her father crushing a cracker in his hands. “It destroys it.”

Athanasia stayed silent as her father finally left the room, her eyes downcast to her balled hands. Opening them, she let herself look at the only token she had left from her day in the empire. A small, holdable version of the Obelian Empire’s flag- the jeweled flower laid beautifully in the golden crest. Athanasia sighed, tearing her eyes away from the flag and letting herself fall against her bed. She let herself open her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling. There was artwork everywhere. Sketches of flowers and silhouettes and designs, all hand drawn by herself and her sister. But...

Athanasia lifted the flag back up to her face, quickly looking between it and her ceiling. Getting up slowly, Athanasia kept her eyes to the ceiling.

It was the same pattern.

In all the artwork, suddenly Athanasia could see the flower everywhere. The flower in the center of a doodled field. In between the smiling faces of the painted versions of herself and Jennette. In the empty space between different sketches. It was in all of them and suddenly Athanasia could see.

(The scene was blurring, all but the jeweled flower that hung over her, twirling within the mobile. She shifted her head, the two silhouettes hovering over her were blurring but- the scene shifted. She was in the courtyard now, looking at the mural of Emperor and Empress holding their missing daughter. Her eyes focused on the baby in their arms- shift. Suddenly she was back to the day before, lifting the lost princess’ crown of her head, Jennette watching dazzled beside her-)

And Athanasia was back in her room, her head pounding and her eyes dizzy. She felt herself move backwards, off of her balance and winced when she crashed into her vanity.

But as her head cleared and the pressure behind her eyes went away, the knowledge stayed with her.

____

Lucas felt the chains heavy on his wrists. Walking down the dungeon hallway surrounded by guards really wasn’t where he saw himself being last night, but yet faith was cruel. He was smarter than this. He knew he was smart enough to not get caught, but love had blinded him. He let his eyes wandered, scanning the cell closet to him.

His eyes caught sight of the two people hunched over in the cell and suddenly he felt anger fester in his chest. Using a strength he didn’t have before he swifty broke free from his guards before he paced over to the jail cell in front of him and went to grab one for the two sisters in the cell. His hands latched onto Penelope’s shirt collar slamming her against the bars. Her bitch of a sister coward deeper in the cell.

An unnatural anger fueled him now, ”How did you know about her? Tell me, now!”

Fear in her eyes, the older lady quickly blurted out,” It wasn’t us! It was the old man!”

“Old man.” It took Lucas a second before he suddenly came to a realization. But the guards were already back on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him.

“Wait. No, wait!” Lucas felt desperate. Fighting against the guards as they quickly marched him to his cell. “ You don’t understand. She’s in trouble, wait!”

____

Back in their tower, Jennette quickly ran back to her and her sister’s room at the sound of what seemed to be her sister falling over and taking something down with her.

“Athanasia! Athanasia what’s going on in there?” Her father’s voice rang from somewhere behind her and Jennette couldn’t help but purse her lips at how stern he sounded.

She reached her shared room just in time to see her sister stumble out. Jennette was at her side in a second,” Athy! Are you all right?”

Athanasia hesitated for a split second, causing Jennette to reach out and squeeze her hand.

“I’m the lost princess.” Her sister’s voice was barely a sound, so soft that it seemed she didn’t want Jennette to hear. But Jennette did hear and the grip she had on Athanasia’s hand went lax.

“Oh, please speak up Athanasia,” Jennette saw the way her sister flinched back and could hear the firm scolding in her father’s voice. Her grip got stronger. “You know how I hate the mumbling.”

The two sisters locked eyes, Athanasia’s worried and Jennette’s soft… she trusted her sister and while she had no idea what was going on it was clear Athanasia had some choice words for their father.

Jennette could feel her sister calm at her support, quickly gripping Jennette’s hand back and turning to face their father, eyes hard and voice clear.

“I am the lost princess. Aren’t I?” Her sister’s voice was clear this time. Jennette could see her father going frigid and widening his eyes from her position behind Athanasia.

“Did I mumble, father?” Athanasia’s eyes narrowed. “Or should I even call you that”

Their- her (?) father was quick to reset. He was back to the charming man who was their father in a second.

“Oh, Athanasia.” His voice was like honey, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?”

He went in to hug them both but Jennette let herself flinched back and Athanasia shoved his arms away from her, quickly distancing herself from her father.

“It was you, it was all you!” Jennette felt cold watching her father’s eyes narrow.

“Everything I’ve done was to protect you.” His voice sounded cold. Harsh in a way Jennette has never heard before, not even when getting scolded. That didn’t seem to be what her sister wanted to hear. Athanasia shoved their father out of the way, quickly stalking down the stairs. Her father called,“ Athanasia!”

“I’ve spent my entire life!” Athansaia sounded mad now. Her father was quick to follow her, Jennette got up, “Hiding from people who would use me for my powers!”

“Athanasia!” Her father was getting louder, his voice getting more desperate.

Her sister reached the bottom of the stairs, turning to face her father, “When I should have been hiding from you!”

“Where will you go? He won’t be there for you?”

(-Lucas was still fighting the guards. There were more coming for him, trying to restrain him, but he needed to get out, needed to save her-)

Athanasia’s voice sounded cold, “ What did you do to him?”

“That criminal is to be hanged for his crimes.” It hurt the way her father sounded so sure of himself. He didn’t know Lucas like she and Athanasia did! Didn’t know how kind he could be…

She could see Athanasia’s heart breaking right in front of her eyes, “No…”

“Now now, it’s alright,” Jennette wanted to vomit at how quickly he went back to playing the loving father role. Her father went to pet her sister’s head, the way he always did when he felt like being extra parental to them. “Listen to me, all of this is as it should be.”

But Athanasia grabbed his wrist, her eyes going hard,” No. You were wrong about the world, and you were wrong about me.”

Jennette could she her father struggle to get his wrist out of her sister’s surprisingly tight grip. But Athanasia wasn’t letting go. “And I will never let you use my hair again!”

Her father finally jerked his wrist out of Athanasia’s grip, falling against a mirror, causing it to shatter. Jennette saw the hatred on her sister’s face as she turned to walk away.

Jennette walked over to look over her father, her heart was pounding and her head hurt but… it was still her father and she needed to make sure he wasn’t hurt, “Fath-“

Slap

Both girls froze at the sudden contact. Jennette felt pain as she suddenly found herself on the floor surrounded by shards of glass. Her hand went to her stinging cheek and she risked a quick glance at her sister - Athanasia look like her father had struck her himself- before looking back at her father.

“Fine. You girls want me to be the bad guy?” Jennette watched as her father’s eyes went dark. His presence that was oh so comforting usually, made Jennette want to shrink into herself, “ Now I’m the bad guy…”

Quick note!

- Athanasia is Rapunzel. In this world, Athanasia’s hair is brown until it’s cut and turns her usual blonde

- Anastasius is Mother Gother

-Jennette’s kinda a mix of Pascal and Cassandra here. If I decide to write more I’ll elaborate :)

-Lucas is Flynn, he’s usually smart enough not to get caught but falling in love caught him off guard.

-Ezekiel exists as a part of the royal guard but he didn’t really fit in the story so he wasn’t actually mentioned. He’s kinda the Maximus and Varian of the story.

-Fun fact, Kiel saw Lucas at the festival and only let him hang around the kingdom because he got very sidetracked by dancing with Jennette

[loxxxlay]

100 word meme

hiii, so I’ve been wanting to try this for a while since it seems to work out really well for @veliseraptor and i feel like it’d work out well for me too? so gonna give it a shot

rules are you vote for a fic and i write 100 words in it. so basically if u want a fic posted faster, vote for it, because a vote means i’ll actually work on it (hopefully XD). it’s mostly just a helpful way for me to have tangible goals that i can work toward without having to make decisions about what those goals are myself XD

[edit: oh yeah you can vote for up to 3]

so without further ado, here’s the list (as is traditional, with bonus excerpts as a reward for helping me with executive brain functions lmfao):

1. (Figment of Choice) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

“Oh, but dear, if I had known it’d be like this, I would have had you change ages ago. You’re simply beautiful!” He smiled and ran the ends of his fingers down Loki’s jaw.  

Loki resisted the urge to bite them. Monster, he thought. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Please don’t do this to me—”

“Loki, we’ve talked about this.” The Grandmaster made a disapproving clicking noise with his tongue. “Yesterday even. Didn’t I specifically tell your brother how I prefer those who are willing. Those who enjoy what Sakaar has to offer. What I have to offer. Are you telling me you’re not one of those people?”

“Yes,” Loki said by habit; then, “I mean, no—no, I am, I just—I don’t think—I can’t—”

“Shhh,” the Grandmaster said. “You know how much I hate hearing don’t and can’t. Come along, sweetheart, get up. As lovely as you are, I’m not only here for you. Time’s a’ticking.”

2. (The troy and lola story of my soul) [tw implied noncon/dubcon and csa]

Troy watched his friend disappear into his carriage, and then he watched a butterfly trail from flower to flower, and then he watched the sun approach the white mountains in the distance. His legs ached with the strain of standing as he watched, but he didn’t move. Moving would mean admitting the fact that his twin had been suffering for years. Suffering the same torment he himself had escaped. Moving would mean having to face the fact that his brother (sister?) might resent him. 

As he stood, he tried—he focused his entire mind upon an imagined woman lying nude in the lounge of a brothel. He tried to feel what she felt. He tried to feel the weight of a body on top of his or the repetitive aching of his insides. He tried to feel the unbearable numbness infecting his limbs with cold. But there was nothing, no sense of life from his twin. Nothing except the ghosts of his own memories.

“My Lord,” Margaret called from the patio, “won’t you come inside?”

Troy sighed but didn’t turn. “You know to call me Theodore.”

“It’s cold out here,” Margaret said as if she hadn’t heard. “At least let me fetch your cloak.”

Troy didn’t answer, and a moment later, he heard the door bang shut. He waited a bit longer. For what? He didn’t know. But then the crickets started chirping, and the chill of nighttime wind raised goosebumps on his arms, and he managed to stomach his fear and turn to face the house.

3. (Forget Me Not, Remember Still) [tw domestic abuse, grandthorki shenanigans]

“You look so sad,” Thor said, and Loki hated that his voice sounded at all like the Grandmaster’s. “What’s bothering you?”

Unsure whether it was safe to answer, Loki pressed his lips together.

“Tell me,” Thor said, just as gently, but—Loki could sense the difference in his patience.

He took a breath. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“It’s something,” Thor argued. “Now tell me—or do I have to remind you what happens when you try to think for yourself.”

Loki steeled himself against a flinch. Almost subconsciously, his hand came up and his fingers pressed against the bruises at his neck. The shirt he’d wanted to wear would have covered them, but this—it exposed him. It made him look weak, like a victim—and truly, was he not a victim now? Was he not being abused?

Wincing, he looked away from the mirror before the sight of himself could make him cry.

“Oh, Loki,” Thor said. “You’ve made some mistakes. All those marks show is that you’ve learned better. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

To you, Loki thought, and then shut the thought off. 

4. (On Our Terms) [tw grandthorki shenanigans]

The Grandmaster sighed loudly. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your society sounds quite borish.”

“It is,” the Valkyrie said, “but it’s the one we got, and I doubt you have room for three thousand potentially borish people here, so . . .”

“Yes, yes, your point has been made,” the Grandmaster said. “But you see—I’ve grown quite fond of these two, and I’m not quite sure if I want to let them go. Especially since they seem so eager to stay.”

“Yeah, I get it. So what’s your price?” she asked in a casual tone.

“My price? Goodness, gracious! I’m not the type to just sell these poor boys to the highest bidder. My dear dear 142, you should know better than to suggest such a thing! Absolutely unbelievable.”

There was a silence. Loki held his breath, closed his eyes, and tried not to think. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t matter what he did. It wouldn’t matter what he said. In fact, it might make things worse if he spoke, and things were already bad enough. The best he could do was keep silent and be good and just . . . wait. Wait to be dragged back into their nightmare.

Under the table, Thor’s free hand slipped around his and squeezed. Loki was numb, too numb, to care. He didn’t squeeze back.

At last, the Grandmaster gave a long put-upon sigh. “I suppose, I might be more . . . favorable to your wishes if you were to, hmm. Play a game with me.”

The Valkyrie shifted in her seat. “What kind of game?”

5. (thor ficlet whumptober chapter 4) [tw past noncon]

With a deep breath, Thor slipped on a robe over his nightshirt and pants (he no longer slept without a shirt), and headed toward the door. There was one person, in all of Asgard, besides her, who knew. His brother had every right to be angry. Even now, Thor remembered the things he had said the night before—before—and those had been his own words, not hers.

As he came to the door, feeling small and afraid, he remembered the morning after. How Loki had begged him for an apology and had not received one. How Thor had stood on the other side, unable to be anything but callous and cold. Their positions were reversed now. Thor prayed his brother would be more kind.

Trembling, he knocked.

Loki answered the door, not a minute later, robed in black and green, hair curly and disheveled. “Yes?” he said as he rubbed his eyes—and then, before Thor could answer, his face smoothed and his eyebrows furrowed low and angry on his face. “Did she try something again?”

“No,” Thor rushed to say, but Loki’s expression didn’t soften. Cheeks aflame, Thor fixed his gaze on the golden stone archway of the door and studied its numerous ridges and cracks. “I can’t—sleep,” he managed. “That—bed—” His throat felt hoarse. He returned his gaze to his brother and tried not to let the desperation seep into his voice. “I’m afraid to sleep alone.”

6. (IW AU thor whump) [tw violence]

“Let me make this clear,” Thor said. He ripped a strip of cloth free from his cape and toyed with it between his hands. “I follow the doctrine of my master because it’s what I believe. But even if I didn’t? Even if you somehow managed to convince me otherwise?” Thor lifted the red cloth and pressed it between the bones of her jaw. “I would follow him anyway. There is not one single thing you could say to dissuade me from his offer, universe be damned.” He tied the cloth in a knot on the back of her head. “Do you understand?”

Eyes blazing, Gamora kneed him in the thigh.

Thor stumbled. His heart sped, as he realized she’d been aiming for his crotch, and in a burst of rage, his hand clenched into a fist and raised in the air—trembling and white-knuckled and desperate to hit her back. 

He didn’t do it.

There was something in her face that sparked a memory in him—one of Loki, handcuffed and bright-eyed and braced for a blow on the Asgardian skiff. The time they’d gone to avenge a mother who had left them alone too soon. The time Loki (seemed to have) died. For a shocking moment, the woman in front of Thor looked just like his brother. From the the tension in her shoulders, to the set in her lips, and to the glassiness of her wide eyes.

He lowered his fist. Grief cascaded over him, and it weighed like bricks on his chest and needles in his heart. In a count to ten, Thor reminded himself of the doctrine and of Thanos’s offer—the gauntlet, with all five Infinity Stones, would resurrect his brother. This woman—this traitor—couldn’t. The choice was easy.

 “Get some rest,” he said, numb and cold. “Xandar is several hours away.”

7. (Zombie Post Apoc Novel) [tw grosss vagina shit, implied noncon]

At night, Helen catches her in the bathroom. The door is cracked open, and Cassandra is standing, one foot planted on the tub’s ledge and the other foot on the floor. Her hand is between her thighs and she’s holding the lighter under her clit, until the air sizzles with the smell of burnt flesh. She comes like that. Helen knows because tears leak from Cassandra’s face whenever her orgasm is real.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra whispers when she notices Helen watching. “I have to.”

And Helen doesn’t bother arguing. Larry may dead, but there are countless Larry’s, and even if there aren’t, Andrew hovers in their room sleeping on their bed. Something has to burn. So Helen just closes the door behind her, turns on the vent to clear the smell, and grabs Neosporin from a drawer under the sink.

Cassandra sits on the bathtub ledge. “Maybe we should stay,” she whispers. “Maybe it really is better here.”

Helen kneels on the bathroom tile. “You’re gonna kill yourself if we stay here, babe.” Then she rubs the Neosporin over the folds of her sister’s vagina, and when the burns are good and treated, tears of ecstasy leak down Cassandra’s face.

In the silence that follows, Cassandra bites her lip. “If it comes to it… I don’t know that I could pull the trigger.”

“You can,” Helen says. “Just pretend you’re holding a lighter.”

8. (Moment of Peace)

[jasontoddiefor]

For the AU prompts; Batfamily (especially my girl Cass) and mythology AU? Anything else is up to you.

Mythology?? Um yes always. I’m also really bad at writing short stuff.

The desolated temple was shrouded in darkness. No candles, no bonfires, so sunlight illuminated these pitch-black sacred halls. This place was Cassandra’s home and she wouldn’t trade it for any other place in the world. Here, she couldn’t see. None of those horrors the daylight exposed her to could touch Cass in this temple.

She knew every relief, every corner, every stone, and had learned to navigate them blindly. Steadily, with one step after another, she had been taught to walk the paths of this labyrinth. Cassandra’s new family was never far behind.

Cassandra had been born for the fight. For all the battles that would be decided on the backs of half-gods, half-mortals and for all the wars that could be ended with the death of one person.

She hadn’t been given a name because a name would have made her stronger. The city’s oracle, who had told her to go to protector, had given Cassandra a name. Before finally finding her path, she hadn’t been taught to speak because her kind, whose blood was almost golden, were already too powerful without being able to sway people with great speeches. But she had been taught to fight and how to utilize what Cain had called a gift and her family regarded as a cruel punishment. Cassandra’s sight told her of all the threats in the world, who the most dangerous on the battlefield was, which divine mortal, which poor soul raised to slaughter or godhood, she had to kill first so that Cain would win.

Her new home had been offered to her as a choice, but what kind of choice was the decision between bloodbaths and peace.

A peace that now seemed threatened by the very man who had kept her in red armors for years.

“Where are you, girl!?” Cain shouted. “I know you’re here! Get out of these ruins or so help me, I will-“

He’d do nothing. Cassandra didn’t have to anything anymore, especially not for him.

And she wasn’t afraid anymore, she didn’t have any reason to be. Nothing, not even death as her second and her youngest brothers had told her, could harm Cass her. In their deity’s place of worship, they were safe. For once, though, she didn’t need her siblings’ vocal support. They were hiding in the walls, observing and silent.

She stepped out of the shadows.

Cain hadn’t expected her to show up out of her own free will, Cassandra could tell from the way he turned.

 “Come here, girl!” He shouted again waving his torch in her direction.

The light burned in her eyes, but she didn’t move even an inch.

This was her home. She was safe here.

If she chose to fight, she could.

But if Cassandra didn’t want, she didn’t have to. The darkness was just behind her, standing tall and menacing, just waiting for her words.

“Leave,” she said. “Go and leave me alone.”

“What? Who do you think you are? I tell you-“

“You tell her nothing.”

Their god was a kind one, protective, accepting and forgiving.

But this mortal in front of them wasn’t one of those deserving of redemption. To Cassandra, her protector’s voice was soft, a deep rumble reminiscent of the purring of the many cats in this city. It was a soft tone, spoken to scared children.

However, Cassandra could still see. She knew that Cain heard the voices of all his regrets, his fears and horrors. He saw the nightmares haunting his every step, his worst failures.

“Who-“

“This one tells you to leave and so you will, human. Stay here any longer and you will learn why I don’t stay in the golden city.”

Cain dropped his torch and ran towards the exits. Gods were horrifying beings to look at, much like their children. Your mind couldn’t comprehend it all, and in its attempt to reduce the experience to something it could grasp, left behind a terrifying beauty.

“Coward,” her fifth brother said, the first to step out of the hidden passages and make his way over to them. No matter how close he got to the light, he always seemed to be surrounded by the same shadows as their father. “He could have put up more of a fight.”

“I’m glad we didn’t have to fight. I had enough action chasing the dead Trojan army off our doorstep,” her fourth brother added. As a child of the sun, he was brighter than everything else in the world, yet his light was one Cassandra was glad to see.

He picked the torch up and the flames began to flicker, shifting through many different colors before returning to a soft yellow.

“It’s not my fault, Mr. ‘I’m the oldest, and Oracle said Aeneas was prettier than me so do as I say’ told me-“

“Don’t blame me! If our little thief hadn’t-“

“Are you alright?” Their father asked her.

Her siblings kept bickering, sooner or later they’d turn to her to make the decision.

“I’m happy.”

[izaswritings]

Title: it’s just a mild inconvenience

Synopsis: Pro Tip— When you die saving the life of your worst enemy, make absolutely sure there’s no chance of survival. Otherwise, things get awkward. Like really, really awkward.

Personally, Varian would take the death and dying. At least then he doesn’t have to deal with all this “caring” nonsense.

Notes: As always, many thanks to the wonderful @jessucakes for creating this awesome au! 💖 Also, if you guys like this fic, please reblog!! It really helps me out. ✨

-

AO3 Link is here!

Chapter One is here!

Chapter Two is here!

Chapter Three is here!

-

chapter 4: varian completely panics, to the surprise of no-one

.

Oh, no.

This is Varian’s only thought, when he finds them. No swears—no curses—nothing but a drop in his gut and the rising sense that somewhere, somehow, he is being laughed at. Maybe by fate—maybe just by the universe.

No, no, no…

The worst part is—the absolute worst part of it all—is that they all look completely ridiculous. Varian himself is covered in dirt and dressed in oversized clothes, and both looks and smells as if he’s spent hours crouching down in the shrubbery—which, yeah, he has. In his rush to escape any assailants, he’s somehow managed to knock the King and Queen both completely off their feet. The King of Corona, the most royal snob, is flat on his back like a turtle, his oversized golden crown rolling away on the carpet. The yellow crest of Corona’s sun, the most priceless necklace in the entire goddamn country, has flown up to smack the King right in his spluttering face. The Queen has fared little better—her hair thrown wild, the lip of her crown caught on one ear. One of her earrings has tangled disastrously in the long locks. She’s just barely escaped the weight of three skirts flipping up over her head. And—this is the important part—her wide, startled eyes are fixed right on Varian.

She looks him dead in the face, and Varian—

Well.

Varian shrieks.

It’s an entirely involuntary sound—utterly unplanned. He plans on shouting some rude insult and maybe doing something to make his dad proud—kicking the King in the side, maybe—but instead, at that one glance, Varian’s entire grasp on reality just about shatters. He didn’t want to come here. He didn’t expect to be seen. His secrecy is shot to hell and back, he’s still got those goddamn scars, and the Queen is looking him full in the face and oh, yeah, okay—judging by the thunderous expression, she definitely, definitely recognizes him.

So, of course, Varian does the only thing one can reasonably do in a situation like this, five days post-dramatic death and twenty minutes into the worst infiltration ever.

He panics.

To be more precise—Varian shrieks, scrambles back, trips on stone, and then sprints for it.

He has no idea where he’s going. All sense of direction has been lost. He can hear the Queen behind him, though, her raised voice— “Guards!”—and it only deepens his crowning sense of doom. He runs faster, nearly slamming into the walls. His heart is like a hummingbird in his chest, so quick he thinks he’s starting to miss a beat. His throat has totally closed up. His head is hammering, his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Guards!”

Oh, no, Varian thinks. In his panic, he cannot even think to swear. He’s reverted to the most basic sense of expressing himself he knows: quiet muttering, as is customary of most alchemical geniuses, and also fifteen-year-old boys.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

His vision has completely blurred. He’s so far past the point of reason, so desperately high-strung by all that has occurred the past few days—so desperately missing Ruddiger—that some part of him wants to just burst into tears right here. And what a sight he would make then, huh? A teenager sprinting barefoot down the palace halls, twigs in his hair and mud staining his pant legs, bawling like a toddler.

He rounds another corner so hard his feet slip right out from under him again, sending him stumbling, running right into the wall shoulder-first. He trips and stands and sees—a person, maybe, or the outline of a person, the figure is too blurry to be sure—and panics further, turning away into a different hall. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know—

Another hall, another person—the clink of armor. Guards. Oh, no. No, no, no. Varian turns and keeps running. His stomach twists unpleasantly. He is not one for hard labor—not a boy built for exercise, not the kind of person who ever cared for it—and for once, Varian regrets it. He feels breathless. His heart squeezes painfully tight in his chest.

No!

He bashes through a door and sprints through a great hall, and only just slows himself down enough to keep from bowling over another person. He’s not quick enough to stop himself completely, however—he still skids right into them, but unlike the King and Queen, this one remains steady, rocking back and then forward, balanced on their feet.

Varian tries to back away, tries to run. But before he can even think to move, slim fingers grasp at his arms and hold him helplessly in place, the grip like iron around his twig-thin wrists.

“Varian!?”

No, Varian thinks. “No,” Varian says, because even his luck—even his washed-up, rented, thrice-damned luck—cannot possibly be this bad. He looks up and feels all the color drain from his face. Suddenly the prospect of bursting into tears out of frustration seems a hell of a lot more likely now. “No!”

“Varian,” says Rapunzel, as if to confirm it. No longer a question. Her hands tighten around his arms, a steel trap—he tries to pull away and she holds him firmly in place, right in front of her. “There you are.”

.

This is it, Varian thinks, only a tiny bit hysterical. It is, bizarrely, a very rational thought. All at once he feels suddenly calm. Cold, too. This is it. It’s over. He’s totally and irrevocably failed—there’s no recovering from this. Rapunzel has caught him—literally—and there’s nothing left to do but resign himself to the inevitable and seethe over the unfairness of it all. He tried. He tried. But that’s never been good enough, has it?

At the very least, Varian thinks, with some degree of relief—at the very least, after this, he can finally go back to hating Rapunzel in peace.

And then, of course, because since when has anything ever gone Varian’s way—instead of acting rational or sane, as Varian foolishly expected of her, Rapunzel grabs his arm, looks panicked, and says, “Hurry! This way!” before dragging him through the door and down a different hall. Away from the yelling. Away from the guards. Away from…

Varian’s mind blanks. Wait. What?

“W-what are you—”

“There’s no time,” Rapunzel says hurriedly. She pulls him into a new room, and starts to sprint. “Quickly! I don’t think they saw you enter the room, so if we’re fast—”

Realization strikes. She is—she is—

It’s too much to comprehend, let alone accept. Varian stumbles to a stop, trying in vain to yank his arm from her iron grip. Damn her. Damn her! Just when he thought things were getting back to normal—

“What are you doing!” he cries, only instead of angry he just sounds shrill, a bit like he’s on the verge of tears, which is. Actually. Not entirely inaccurate. “You, you can’t—no! Stop it! I don’t want—”

Rapunzel whirls back and shakes her head. He thinks she should look angry—but all she looks is tired. “Oh, Varian,” she says, looking down at him as if he’s the nonsensical one, and then she drags him off down the hall again, Varian too shell-shocked to resist.

Nothing has gone as he’d expected. It’s terrible.

He runs, because he doesn’t know what else to do. His head hurts. He’s seconds away from tears and only holding them back out of pure fucking spite. He’s so tired—of the day, of the confusion, and most of all: of Rapunzel, that stupid princess, who more than anyone else seems intent on being the most vexing person ever.

“I hate you,” Varian says, with deep, heart-wrenching feeling. “I hate you. So. Much.”

“That’s nice,” Rapunzel says, and just keeps on running.

That’s it. Varian’s completely lost the plot. Everything’s gone bonkers and he no longer cares. His feeling days are over! Numbness is in! Cassandra could burst in here and declare herself a traitor to the crown and bring the moon crashing down like a comet and Varian!! Would! Not! Flinch!

He muscles back a very brave and courageous sob, and lets himself be dragged in Rapunzel’s wake, because there is literally nothing else he can do. Her grip is stronger than stone, her mind is unmappable, and with Varian in the state he’s in, he’s helpless to do anything else.

When, he thinks, almost a prayer, a lot more hysterical now—when exactly, world, did you stop making sense?

The world doesn’t answer, and Varian keeps running.

.

Unlike Varian’s mad dash from before, Rapunzel clearly knows where she’s going.

She does not stumble, trip or fall—her rush is focused and direct, her face furrowed into a determined look. She drags Varian down numerous twists and turns, upstairs and across sweeping halls, avoiding the guards at every turn. They run and hide until Varian is nearly hyperventilating and even Rapunzel has to muffle her own gasping breaths. But where Varian was lost, cornered no matter where he ran, Rapunzel knows the halls well enough to slip them through the barricade. And so it is, at long last, she pulls him into one final room and slams the door shut behind her.

The room is one way up high, near the castle spirals, in the part of the castle that is emptier and quieter than the other floors. With a big door at the end of a trailing hall, it seems strangely small, out of the way, distant from the fanfare. Rapunzel herself needs no key—she drags Varian in, pushes him through, then turns and closes the door tight.

Varian stumbles in, momentum halted, wheezing for breath and stunned utterly silent. The room is—high, very high, a tower more than a proper bedroom. There’s a wall-length window and a balcony, a huge bed and walls absolutely covered in color, paintings and sketches and vivid depictions, birds and trees and sweeping skies, the outside world brought to life within the enclosed walls.

It’s not hard to put together the pieces. This is Rapunzel’s room. And normally that would bother Varian, normally that would incense Varian, the thought that Rapunzel considers him that little of a threat—except for once, his mind is elsewhere. Completely, totally elsewhere, because sitting up in the center of the room, beetle-black eyes wide and little nose twitching, is Ruddiger.

Varian freezes, nearly tripping on the carpet, his breath catching. He’s totally off-guard—completely lost—utterly unaware of just how much he’d missed Ruddiger until this exact moment. It’s like a triple gut-punch, like a knife between the ribs, a missing so awful it aches. And Ruddiger, looking no worse for wear, face upturned and bright as a mini sun—Ruddiger, who Varian has missed so much, is right there.

He’s right there.

He’s okay.

Varian tries to say something cool and collected, and chokes on a muffled sob instead.

Ruddiger coos at him, understanding and sweet. When Varian numbly reaches out, the raccoon chitters up a happy storm and leaps up right into his arms, with enough momentum to send Varian stumbling back. He clutches Ruddiger close to his chest, his fingers curling into the raccoon’s soft pelt, warm from the sunshine. Ruddiger paws at Varian’s face and chitters brightly in his ear, as if to say hello.

Varian stands there, stunned and quiet and suddenly so tired, and sways on his feet, saying nothing.

He barely notices when Rapunzel comes up behind him, taking his shoulder gently, steering him away. “You have to hide,” she says, “they’re coming—Varian, quickly,” and even though he can hear the urgency in her voice, he feels as if he’s hearing her underwater, as if from a great distance. She pushes him forward and he goes, blankly, following without thought. The only thing he can think to do is hug Ruddiger closer.

Rapunzel pushes Varian through another door, into a darker, smaller space, and then shuts the door behind him. It’s dark here. Cooler. There’s something soft against his face—fabric? He’s not sure.

Rapunzel is gone, though. He can see her anymore. He’s—alone? He’s alone. He’s alone, Rapunzel has left and he doesn’t have to pretend, and—and Ruddiger is right here. He found Ruddiger. Ruddiger is okay.

Varian falls forward. There’s a pile of fabric on the narrow floor, and he curls up in it, swallowed by silk, the most comfortable bed he’s had in months. Ruddiger coos at him, and Varian hugs him close. Ruddiger noses at his cheek, and it’s cold. Varian’s breath quickens. His chest is tight, so tight, painfully tight, like his heart is being squeezed through a sieve.

It’s been—it’s been a really shitty couple of days. Dying. Waking up. Remembering. The scars, the anxiety, that blasted uncertainty—losing Ruddiger, getting lost. His plans once again going absolutely haywire—

It’s just been a really bad day.

Varian curls up in the dark, and starts to cry. He buries his face in Ruddiger’s fur and shakes with silent sobs. He doesn’t wail. He doesn’t scream. He cries soft and hitching, almost noiseless. His eyes are burning, and his cheeks are fever-flushed, sticky with tears.

Ruddiger’s nose is cold against his neck. The scars burn with unnatural warmth. But it’s quiet, here. Quiet, and dark, and finally safe.

When he slips off to sleep, minutes later, it is almost with the sense of relief.

[leigh-mccoy]

Kost

Thinking about what my Inquisitor and the Inner Circle have to go through in the events of Dragon Age Inquisition stresses me out sometimes, so I created a No Inquisition AU, wherein the events of DAI never come to pass and they're all free to live their lives and go on adventures without the fate of the entire world on their backs.

Here's a snippet of some domesticity between my would-have-been Inquisitor and The Iron Bull.

AO3 Link found here!

Night in the Emerald Graves, far darker and silent than the forest during the day. The thick canopy that provided shade and dappled sunlight now blocked out the moon and surrounding stars. Even the local wildlife seemed to know better than to venture out now, though most were deep in hibernation now that winter was well underway. The only light to be had was from a single candle set on a very large and ornate desk, accompanied by the faint glow of a great fire burning in the sitting room outside of the small office.

The Iron Bull let out a quiet sigh, setting down his quill, leaning back in the desk chair and rubbing at his tired eye. The paperwork in front of him seemed to drag on, a necessary but draining evil. He paused for a moment and strained his ears for any sound, anything at all to give his mind a brief rest from his work.

There was the crackle of logs in the fireplaces around the cabin. Snores from the floor above him, with a volume battle taking place between Rocky and Blackwall if he wasn't mistaken, and he rarely was. He caught the tail end of a worried murmur, Dalish maybe, quickly quieted by a bed mate, Skinner definitely. A dull thud sounded as someone stretched out and ran a limb into a wall. No swearing followed, so it was more likely to be Leigh than Sera.

Bull leaned forward with a groan, suddenly realizing that he'd been half asleep for a second or two. The rather large, two story cabin that he now called home was complete structurally, but there were still tasks that needed to be finished before any of them would consider themselves settled. Dorian and his husband Murk had gifted them with enough qunari-sized Orlesian furniture to furnish the entire house. The master bed, the dining set, and Bull's desk and chair had already been moved in, but there was more still packed away in crates outside, and areas needed to be cleared for neighboring cabins to be built for the Chargers. There were plenty of hands to help, but no one ended the day without being physically exhausted, himself included. He picked up the now dry quill, forcing himself to go over the papers for the third time that evening.

The sound of a door carefully opening t before clicking shut made him pause again. Soft, shuffling footsteps followed, bringing with them a gentle golden light as they rounded the stairs in the sitting room to enter his office.

“Kadan,” His deep voice rumbled with more sleep than he intended. “What are you doing up?”

The squat woman only shuffled forward, pressing against his side as he opened his arms to her. She leaned over the desk, carefully setting the spirit light to float above it next to the low candle. Only once the light had settled did she turn to him.

“They didn't wake you, did they?” Bull asked as he smoothed a hand over his wife's pregnant belly. It wouldn't have been the first time the little one had kept her up with their bursts of activity. Most nights they could talk to them, lulling the unborn baby back to sleep, but there were others still where he would stay up with her, waiting until the child wore themselves out.

“Mm, no.” Krystal shook her head, smiling as she shrugged off the quilt draped over her shoulders, then pressing further into him to pull it over his back. Bull hadn't even realized he'd been cold until he helped her pull the blanket, already warmed by her, over his broad shoulders and tight around his neck.

I love her, he thought with a smile, the swell of the feeling filling his chest.

“You've been up for a long time. I was worried.”

Bull let out a heavy sigh through his nose. “I'm sorry, Kadan.”

He leaned into her embrace then. Still seated, he was able to press a chaste kiss to her collar bone, then again to her shoulder through the fabric of her lilac nightgown. The hand not pressed to her middle looped around her back, his fingers threading through her long black hair, thicker and silkier than it had been a few months prior. His thumb brushed gently back and forth over her belly, Bull easily finding comfort in her presence.

“Is it bad?” She asked, speaking into the quiet that had befallen them.

Bull carefully pulled back, following her gaze to the paperwork on his desk. The writing was in a coded shorthand known only to Krem and himself, but despite her own trouble with numbers, Krystal knew just enough to know finances when she saw it.

The pregnancy had been a surprise to everyone, though a thoroughly welcomed one. No one had caught it until she was already four months along and heavily ill, leaving the two of them with precious little time to make critical decisions, and almost no time at all for Bull to prepare for what those would entail. The Chargers, being the large misfit family that they are, rallied around the couple, pooling their resources and scraping together what supplies and funds they could. They all agreed it was all hands on deck until after the new “recruit” arrived, but that meant that no jobs had been taken in the past two months, and no coin either.

They'd cut costs where they could, but travel had been slow due to the toll the pregnancy was taking on Krystal. As worrying as it was, Bull would have stopped and settled down anywhere with decent ground had Stitches and Leigh not been there to assure him that despite her symptoms, the pregnancy was going well, and Krystal would be fine so long as they tended to her and rested as much as possible. Along the way they ran into people they'd met in the years past, people they had allied with, and eventually became good friends with. Excited for Bull and Krystal's new venture, they'd joined in, pooling their own resources and lending a hand in whatever way was needed. The help and company was much appreciated, but only slowed the depletion on their savings but a small margin.

His wife was nearly always confined to the nearest bed or chair, weary and sick from the pregnancy, and Bull hadn't wanted to add to her stress. But, she was his wife and Kadan, and he wasn't going to lie to her either.

“We'll last another month and a half, if we're careful.” He picked up the parchment, reading over it as he spoke. Krystal rubbed gentle circles on his shoulder, letting him know that it was okay to continue.

“It's not a deep dent in the savings, but sizable enough. We've been saving coin where we can, but now there's more mouths to feed and people to take care of. Varric throws coin in when he thinks he can get away with it, and I appreciate it, but. . .”

“But we shouldn't rely on his coin forever, and you want to be stable before the baby comes.”

Bull nodded, setting the parchment back onto the desk. He pulled her closer to him, letting her rest against him as he placed his other hand back onto her belly. He met her violet eyes, raising a brow.

“Any ideas?”

Krystal hummed, the hand on his shoulder stopping it's gentle massage as her index finger tapped against his skin.

“Stitches and I could go into Val Boteau and sell some of our potions.” She suggested.

Val Boteau was a small village located about a mile to the south of their settlement. It was mainly a small fishing town, its commerce coming from the shipping of fish and sugarcane, but it was just large enough to have a Chantry and a minor lord governing it. Bull's initial impression of the townspeople were that they were close knit and outwardly friendly, but he didn't know or trust them enough to allow his wife and their half-qunari, half-human baby into their midst. Not without half of the Chargers accompanying her, at least. The potential outlash of close-minded idiots wasn't a risk he was willing to take with his new family, not just yet.

Bull smiled, telling her as much. “That's pretty good, Kadan, but,” he gently prodded a finger into her belly. “I don't trust our new neighbors. Not yet. This is Orlais. Small town people are either really friendly, or really small minded. And I. . .” His speech drifted to a halt. He took a deep breath, pushing himself to be open and vulnerable with her. “I don't want to find out which one they are the hard way. Not with the two of you caught in the middle.”

Krystal smiled softly, moving her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek.

“I understand, beloved. But I'm still going to help at least make the potions.”

“Keep the best ones for us,” For you, just in case. “And you've got a deal.”

“A deal, then.” She smiled, the motion lighting up her eyes even in the dim room. “On top of that, I think Blackwall mentioned that he likes to fish, and we could send Leigh out to forage and hunt.” Krystal covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.

“If we could separate her and Cassandra for long enough.”

“On the contrary, Kadan. Send the two of them together. We'll lose three of our heavy lifters, but if Leigh gets caught by strangers, no one's going to question the Lady Seeker if she tells them to leave the tame werewolf be. And, if Leigh had someone out there to impress, she's going to bring back the biggest and best stuff she can find.”

The mage stifled more laughter, “You sound like you're speaking from experience.”

“Hey, Ben-Hassrath, remember?”

Tal-Vashoth now, thankfully., he adds to himself as he feels the weight of their unborn child nestled safely between them.

“Right, because you were already impressive enough just as you are to woo me.” She lifted her chin, doing her best to look pleased with herself while barely able to reach his eye level. “No fancy deeds. Just your sharp mind and rugged good looks.”

“You're trying to butter me up, but damn, you're right.”

They both laughed then, quieted by a kiss he initiated and she met halfway. It was calm and lighthearted, exactly what he needed at this hour.

“Mm, and on a completely unrelated note,” he spoke softly against her lips. “None of my “deeds” caught your attention? Not that one time I took down a great bear unarmed, or made you that crown out of sunflowers, or all those times I kicked in those walls, or -”

Bull pressed another kiss to her lips as she broke into another fit of laughter. Besides kissing her being one of his all-time favorite pastimes, there was no need to wake up the rest of the house with their lovers’ antics. Though, Varric wouldn't have minded much, as nosey as he'd been for new writing material.

They broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, the tired calm from earlier in their conversation returning. Bull studied her face, looking as tired and content as he felt, recommitting it to memory. The hand still cupping the left side of his face pulled gently, bringing him to bow his head as his wife pressed gentle, bow shaped lips to his forehead.

“Feel better?”

Bull nodded. “Thanks, Kadan.”

“Anytime, beloved.” She reached back over the desk, but picked up the candle by its holder, leaving the golden spirit light in its place. Turning back to him, her eyes held his pleadingly.

“Come to bed soon, please?”

Now it was Bull's turn to cup her plump cheek, bringing her in for one last kiss.

“I will Kadan, I promise.” She moved to part from him, but he held her gently in place.

“Hey, I love you.”

He knew he'd gotten to her by the way she blushed and leaned into the hand on her cheek.

“I love you too.”

With that, Krystal reluctantly left his side, her soft waddling steps and the glow of the candle steadily fading. Only once he heard the door to their bedroom click shut did Bull turn his attention to the parchment on his desk. He picked up his quill, looking out his window and still finding nothing but pitch black. It was easy to find where he'd left off, and easier still to finish running through his calculations now that he had a plan ahead of him. Finally satisfied with his work, and no longer able to ignore the pull of sleeping in the first bed he'd owned in decades and a wife who was honestly his everything, Bull filed away his papers, put away the quill and inkwell, then picked up the spirit light, leaving his office dark behind him.

[written-s0ul]

Someday (1/2)

SUMMARY. Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader. Modern AU. You haven’t talked to Bucky — the ex you’re on good terms with — for a few years now. To break the ice, you decided to prank him with a call — of a fake pregnancy. Inspired by real events.

WARNINGS. Kids? HAHAHA. Fluff & fun. Clint Barton x Laura Barton.

WORD COUNT. 981! Shortest one I’ve ever had for a first part omg.

AUTHOR’S NOTES. So, this has been sitting in my drafts since February. I was supposed to post it for Valentine’s but, yeah, things got hella busy, especially as I will finally be graduating high school in three weeks!!! I hope this soothes any pain you have after watching Infinity War, if you have watched. <3

#1: you are here / #2

Years of babysitting have taught you two things: (1) kids were demons; and (2) you want to raise one.

Hell breaks loose the moment they’re in tears; but the moment you’ve coaxed them to sleep, to smile, to laugh — it’s like you’ve opened up the gates to heaven. There’s no other feeling like it. You’d certainly like to experience it one day. Not right now, but certainly someday.

For now, babysitting for your good Barton friends (while they had their long-due date night, jeezuskrist Clint) was enough.

You didn’t know their kids well, having met them on only a few occasions. So, it was certainly awkward at the beginning of the night, but as it progressed, they warmed up to you, at least in some degree.

Cooper, the eldest, was a sullen boy, shy and reserved — perhaps as expected for a boy going through puberty, when being supervised by an unfamiliar adult — but still so unlike his father. He spent most of the night in his room, only coming out twice: once for dinner, and another for the bathroom. You tried to engage with him both times, ask about school or his friends, but he never said anything more than three words at a time. When he only stared at you when you asked about his obsession with Transformations (or was it Transformers? What did Laura say?), you knew it was time to give up and let the kid have his solitude.

Nathaniel Pietro, on the other hand, was the exact opposite, being the youngest and the one of highest maintenance. Probably because he was a five-year-old, a loud and playful one too, with a habit of throwing toy balls across the room and of waddling around the house, constantly on the move. Distracting him to keep him stationary was exhausting. You could only breathe a sigh of relief once his eyes began to droop after dinner. Although, you had to admit, with him tucked in bed, a great deal of noise and fun was lost. You missed him already.

Peace was yet to come, however. Lila, the middle one, was the human equivalent of a Golden Retriever puppy. Sometimes skipping around the house, occasionally drawing in her sketchbook, often chatting your ear off with an eagerness to please. Such as right now. With your permission to stay up past her eight o’clock bedtime (hey, kids don’t get this chance a lot), she now sat next to you on the floor in the living room, drawing cartoonish characters with the television on, talking about her feuding friends in the art club. It was indeed a complicated situation. You were most certainly glad to not be in that stage of your life anymore.

She sat in silence now, her entire being focused in coloring her work. Now with her completely distracted, you took this chance to check your phone. No new messages. (Let’s pretend that doesn’t hurt.) But there were a few Facebook reminders about upcoming birthdays and events happening near you. You sighed. Might as well.

You pressed on that notification. Hey, it was Sharon Carter’s birthday yesterday! Greet her. Ah shit, you forgot about that. Maybe you’ll send her a short message later.

Scrolling past that, your eyes fell on the birthdays today. Tandy Bowen just turned thirty-six, greet her! Don’t know her, not sure why you even added her as a friend in the first place —

Hey, it’s Bucky Barnes’ birthday today! Write a greeting now …

Your heart leapt. Shit — it’s his thirty-fifth. How could you forget? You literally celebrated it with him, like, four times, before the inevitable break-up three years ago. Then again, you were always horrible at remembering dates. Your exam scores in history could attest to that.

You stared at the familiar profile picture: his face — still so fresh for a thirty-five year old — angled away from the camera, looking out to a snowy mountain — filtered in black and white (his favorite filter — such an old man at heart). Three years ago, that used to be the two of you. At the beach, his eyes gazing down at you as you looked out at the sunset — a beautiful photograph taken by your mutual friend, Natasha. It was lovely, both the photo and the day it was captured.

Should you greet him?

Both of you did spend four wonderful years of your lives together; that wasn’t nothing. And it’s not like the relationship ended on a bad note! Just that you wanted a family and he didn’t. That’s all. It simply wasn’t going anywhere.

Nevertheless, you promised to stay friends. Even though you’ve called each other, what, probably four times for the last three years? Perhaps this was a good chance, then, to start again?

Fingers flying across the keypad, you prepared a short message. 

Hey, Bucky! Oh my god, it’s your birthday! Your body is finally catching up to your soul!

Too many exclamation points. Rewrite.

Hey, Buck. Sending you my warmest wishes for a happy birthday.

Too formal. Again.

Hey, Bucky! How you doin’? Hope your day’s going well. It’s your birthday after all. Can you believe it? God —

Getting too long. Again.

Hey, Bucky! Happy thirty-fifth, I hope today was filled with all your favorite guilty pleasures!

Okay, what the fuck? Why’s this so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard to write a simple birthday message to a friend. Or ex-boyfriend, whatever. Same thing.

Damn it, who’re you kidding? This shit’s too fucking awkward. You need something to crack open the ice you’ve left freezing between the two of you. Something funny, something shocking, something …

Your eyes fell on Lila’s drawing. It was a family, two parents with three kids, one of which was carrying a toddler …

It hit you.

Lips stretching to a wide smile, you poked Lila’s shoulder. She looked up at you.

“Hey, Lila, can you help me with something?”

A/N. Sorry, it’s short. This is mostly build up and exposition. Next part will be posted on Thursday, probably! :D Hope you enjoyed this. <3

Tagging: (If you’d like to be tagged to the story or permanently, let me know!)

@courtneychicken @riddikuluslyemily @zadyalyss @iamwarrenspeace @l-tay @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @proving-myself-wrong @cassandras-musings

[niceness-before-knives]

Here is the second part of @smalllemonade‘s questions for Mir because they’re too good to ignore and I finally had time to sit down and finishing answering them. <3 Thanks again, because seriously. I love all these questions a lot. :D

18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why?

Good question! I ...honestly haven't thought about much of Mir's future because DA4 will make it all moot or just very sad. /shrugs That being said, kind of person he possibly could/will become I can definitely work with. Developmental path he'd go down is actually recovery, finally! From Mahrenan, from everything the Inquisition threw at him, from losing his arm and the anchor, just, there's a lot and Mir needs to chill and finally deal with it. I mean, he does want to save Solas and plans to, but once again devoting all his time and resources to one major thing of his life isn't going to help. Mainly because I see 'i'll show you the world can be saved' as Mir promising to find the unignorably good and beautiful things in his world. To do that, Mir kinda needs to let his life be his for awhile. You know?

That's what I see as his best path he could take. Let Mir finally be Mir, not Mahrenan's brother, not the Herald/Inquisitor, not Solas' redeemer. Let him be a Red Jenny for fun, let him be an alchemist with Dagna, let him hang out with the Chargers and Bull, chat with Dorian and not have the world hang over his head for once. And it's the path I want him to take it. I really truly want him to save Solas not with an army or conventional means, but by offering him a view of this world he can't brush off. For that to happen, Mir needs to expand his horizon and see more of the world imo.

Worst (and possibly most likely?), ah. Simply burning out completely. Kid just needs a break. Keeping up the pace he's been going at after all he's been through, ah. He'll burn out, fast and hard, and it will be ugly.

19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why?

Mir prefers being more of a follower to a leader, tbh. It was one of the traits his momma offered as 'this is how you don't confuse mahre and mir'. Mahre imitates, but Mir follows. It didn't help anyone though. 

But, obviously, isn't the truth 100% anymore. If he's within a group that he's not acquainted with or just a more general one, he finds it easier to relax and play support for a bit (support that includes recon and explosions~). It's the least stressful option though he'll still butt heads with the planners/leaders because he's used to making decisions as well. Also, he can't bite his tongue to save his life.

With his trusted bffs for life group, eh. He still prefers getting their opinions and ideas instead of relaying on him all every chance they have. Because that's not planning, imo! He's just the one that makes decisions and sticks with his choices, for better or for worse. <3

24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference?

As an talkative emotional space cadet? Like, that's basically who Mir is anyways to a degree. I'm sure he tries a few times to be a more ...traditional Herald/Inquisitor, but it sits on his skin all wrong. It's not who he is. Firstly, because no thanks. Secondly, he acts while he thinks so most plans are easier thrown out the window.

It's a still a persona though. Mir's "true self" is more toned down than what people in the Inquisition typically see. It isn't that he tries a lot, but he's more used to aggressively being louder to be noticed. He forgets he can still be noticed even if he takes it down a few notches. Also, his "true self" is a bit more open about his vulnerabilities and shitty feelings while his persona is like 'nay it's golden don't mind me~!' Gotta let yourself be sad sometimes.

27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why?

Strongly is Mir's middle name, basically, hah. Ah! Okay! I talked about it briefly (kinda) in another question but respect & honesty are big things to Mir because he's used to not getting either. He honestly adores people (and probably has had a crush on a good chuck of Skyhold because everyone is so good and nice and wow). He also likes learning in general and experimenting too, normally with chemicals and the like, making explosions~. Because it's just fun and he has the mind for it. 

Dislikes, ah. People and/or organizations obvs treating anyone like shit. It goes against his respect thing. While he's alright with Andraste, he can't stand the Chantry or its Templars and he'd honestly prefer to burn it to the ground completely and then steal its foundation too because kid ain't taking no chances. None! He really isn't fond of going underground either, because of a nasty event when he was a kid when he got stuck in an old cave that possibly also was part of the Deep Roads for a few days. That's less a dislike though and more of a deliberating fear. Descent was not his DLC for this reason. :l Darkspawn fall into this dislike/fear category too because of that event. Mir was sure he was going to be eaten or worse, and the feeling hasn't really left him yet.

Oh, and pants. He vastly prefers skirts and dresses and leggings. No-Pants-Friday is a serious cause he'd put his soul into.

29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative?

So! I have a dumb little  headcanon Mir and Rocky started an Explosions Club of sorts, sharing secrets and tips and just using them out in the Frostbacks (explosions on a mountain, guys, please stop). Dagna joins up too (exchanted explosions, guys, so good), and then Sera because is a Tempest too (which is how her and Dagna met) and then Dorian because he probably played 'i don't trust anyone of you' card but secretly, he likes a bit of chaos and talking magic with Dagna and Mir. 

It's a really cute club, don't ever take it from me. :'l

Thing is despite Mir's own belief on the matter, kid is really smart. His mind just speeds ahead of his mouth, so he stumbles over reading and talking and people take that to mean the worst. But he sincerely loves to learn and experiment and have fun with the world. His room at Skyhold constantly has odd little (very dangerous please don't touch) experiments in it. It's just a good stress relief for him. One that does sadly rob him of his hearing in chucks because he's often far too close and exposed to his creations and custom-made Tempest flasks. 

Another headcanon I have though is Rocky, Dagna and another OC of mine teach Mir a bit of Orzammar sign language because needs to be a thing that exists in general and Mir's frequent handling of grenades in close proximity of himself has fucked up a bit of his hearing and it's just helpful to know.

Again, don't ever take it from me. :'l <3

Mir also likes singing? Like, he sings a lot. He's definitely a performer at heart. In a modern AU, he'd be a chemistry student who does street performances on the side. Mir Lavellan~.

32. Already answered over here. <3

39. What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction?

On the more deeper end: Am I good? Was I right? Is this real? Mir... doesn't trust his memories absolutely. He often finds himself wondering if he truly is the person Mahre said he was deep down, if he is a liar constructing vast fantasies for the sake of his own ego. Mir, doesn't think that's true but he honestly doesn't know if that's entirely false either and he's honestly never going to know for certain. It's weird. He doesn't like these thoughts but they do exist all the same time.

It continues on even in Inquisition too. Did I make the right choice? Am I remembering this correctly? Etc, etc. It's why he's so steadfast in sticking with his choices. He may internally (and externally to the people he trusts) question himself, but he's sure as shit not going to backtrack over them. He made a choice. It's done. Move on.

40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is?

Kid wonders about everything. He's amazingly curious space cadet. Most of his internal filter keeps his sad thoughts about Mahre at bay, so everything else? It comes to surface fast~. Mir just asks a lot of questions, about the world, about people, about magic, about all cultures, all ranging for good to bad to the seriously wtf.

One of the things he wonders about and really enjoys learning about is other culture’s folktales too? Like he thinks it a good way to get a better view of them and what they’re about so he pokes his companions to tell about them about. It’s how he learned about the tooth thing from Bull, but he also poked Cassandra about Nevarran folkstories and Josie about Antiva and Dorian about Tevinter. It’s just fascinating to him. He loves them dearly.

He just likes to know, likes to expand his horizons and find something new to see and how else can you do that besides asking? /shrugs!