#right hand spitballs au ideas

[sparkycinnamon]

i’ve realized most of my blorbos from my current hyperfixations are girls so uh…

au where test tube, taylor, marcy, tilly, p, norma, and june are all in a magical girl squad

and candlelight cookie is their magical helper that gives them the powers in the first place

[yuri-is-online]

Hi Yuri! Have you ever considered the idea of there being an alternate version of the twst boys in Yuu’s world? Since we have no clue if it’s just another planet or an entirely separate universe, it’s theoretically possible. Poor Yuu would think they are going crazy seeing a familiar face or hearing a familiar voice in another world. Perhaps it is even painful to the point Yuu tries to avoid interacting with the boy in question. - 🦐

(Also, I am well aware of how often I’ve been sharing these thoughts. If they’re annoying you or you don’t feel up to it, I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond or anything. I’m just spitballing and posting before I forget. 👉👈)

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ON THIS!!!!! (first and foremost being that you are very much not annoying <3)

An alt version of a twst boy in Yuu's world is just so yummy. There's so much angst potential depending on what the relationship is/was. Did their boy die in some horrible accident? Is he waiting for them, anxious and terrified about where Yuu went? Does this imply that twst also has a version of Yuu somewhere out there in the world? Questions questions. I did sort of write about this idea in the tags of this yan version of the soulbound au, wherein a cursed Yuu driven insane by their curse kills their soulmate before being isekaid to Twisted Wonderland and finding a different version of him, horrified with the realization that they could kill him again... but I want to cook up some dynamics for what the dorm leaders/overblot boys could be up to in Yuu's world first sooo...

I had a hard time thinking about Riddle until I remembered he's a horse girl and cast Yuu in the role of bad boy ranch hand whose dad's got a job at the barn so they're forced to help take care of the horses and warn all the would be YA protags about the "special horse" who doesn't take orders from just anyone. Not that Riddle is the protagonist... he's more the well established rich petty bitch who looks down on the new girls and especially on you because you're never taking care of his horse in accordance with all his stupid rules. And in stereotypical horse movie fashion Riddle has a massive not so secret crush on bad boy ranch hand Yuu who just doesn't get why he keeps trying to talk to them.

There isn't much royalty left in the world, but imagine Leona as the son of some rich business magnate whose older brother got the company and left him with "nothing." Maybe Yuu works at a liquor store part time and Leona comes in to pick stuff up every once in a while. You wouldn't call him a friend, but you guys shoot the shit enough that you have a general feel for each other to the point he joins you on your breaks to keep up the talk and play chess.

I love the idea of student president council Azul. He's made for that trope. Born for it, he'd be such a terror with Jade as his VP and Floyd as well. Floyd. I can't see him really being a part of the student council but I had this idea the other day based off this instagram post I saw about this mom who sews right? Her daughter was running for class president and she made these bracelets with little shrimp on them and attached them to cards that said "Keep it shrimple! Vote for (kid's name)!" And I was struck with this vision of Yuu doing that so like. Yuu running against Azul with that campaign slogan and he's tearing his hair out over it being so popular because people like memes (the original idea had Floyd running as Yuu's vp but they both dropped out at the last minute because neither him or Yuu wanted to do the actual work lol.) I also like student council president Azul and delinquent Yuu... but that's because of Tsuredure Children ha

Kalim and Jamil are hard... but I think the same set up of rich businessman's kid and his bodyguard in training still fits. How Yuu meets them is beyond me, but if you were friends with either of them could you imagine how painful seeing the same tragedy play out in this new world would be? Jamil doomed to always be a servant and Kalim doomed to be betrayed by his best friend... that would be so painful for someone who cared deeply about either of them I could see it motivating Yuu to try and resolve things for twst Jamil and Kalim that much harder.

Ok so hear me out... Vil still wants to be an actor in your world but he doesn't have the connections to his dad and is working as a pharm tech with Yuu at your local drugstore while going to school and hunting for gigs. He mentions being interested in cosmetics and magical pharmacology in game... and he also mentions knowing nothing about his mom so like. Your world Vil ended up with his mom instead of his dad and you get to see him on the cusp of his big break as one of his number one supporters from the very start, only to get isekaid to a world where you get to see what things could have looked like. It's strange how similar and yet not both versions of Vil are...

Idia is the guy who comes in to buy snacks at your convenience store during the night shift who you start talking to when you notice him buying a game time card for something you also play. You're stupid awkward around each other at first, but it's nice to finally have someone to talk about your niche interest with once you've passed each other's sniff tests. You don't actually know him know him though... so getting sent to another world where there's another version of him makes you worried the more you learn about his backstory that maybe you should have been there for your Idia more. Is he doing ok back home? Did he think of you as a friend? You hope he isn't blaming himself for any of this...

Malleus is an old money trust fund baby whose family was absolutely royalty at some point and is still overly attached to it. He likes old buildings, cemeteries, long walks in the fog, you know all those good goth things. He's tall and socially awkward and so grateful for you, his first and best friend who he met one moonlight night he swore was a dream in his favorite abandoned building who spoke at length with him about all sorts of things he liked. So you know. More or less the same. Just without the world ending powers... I think this is another one that would be quite sad. Which version of Malleus needs Yuu more? Which one is the real one? I'd hate the idea of him being destined to always be lonely and lose the ones he loves.

As for Yuu avoiding them... I could see that. It would feel weird seeing someone you love so much only for it not to be them at all. I know that the Lovebrush Chronicles kiiiiind of deals with this??? I wish I had the patience to play through it has an appealing glasses wearing ro but it's a mobile otome :/ but still. It's a concept I promise I am totally normal about.

[krypticcafe]

How do you feel about CoD boys in a monster au? Whether they’re the monster or their s/o is the monster, I just think it would be neat. I’m partial towards werewolves but honestly I love anything that goes bump in the night. I LOVE the idea of a monster being afraid of hurting their partner but their partner knows that they could never hurt them. If you’re open to monster requests, I have so many ideas. Just… monsters, man

oooo are we spitballing bc I love throwing around ideas!!

I absolutely love monster AUs, one of my faves is @/bluegiragi's and I'm sure you all know that iconic one. I'm totally open to monster/hybrid requests, and a detailed list of what other things I write can be found in the cafe's Customer Service Policy aka rules :]

And monster-related plots? I'm a sucker for that shit, need more of that and monster!reader.

If I were to make a Monster Hybrid AU with my own specific ideas though, hmm...

Powerful and stoic, Price would make a great minotaur (lower half of a bull). Sure, maybe his back isn't what it used to be, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have the strength to send you back to your maker. Every step he takes on base acknowledges his presence, a posture that demands respect from its witnesses. The horns on his head aren't something to mess with either, though it takes him ages to scrape out the dried blood from the cracks and tailor his bucket hats.

On the other hand, the canine hybrid for Soap is oddly charming. Similarly to a werewolf, he would have the senses of one, but as a just hybrid, he's unable to fully transform. Instead, he's equipped with features like ears, tail, fangs, some fur on his arms and legs, and a longer tongue. I can see him being a border collie, the Scottish sheepdog just makes sense. But a kelpie/merfolk would also work with his callsign. Soap, a mischievous water spirit known for "cleaning out" rooms of enemies? A body with slick scales, gills, and a frilled mohawk when in monster form? Yeah, I can definitely see that.

For someone with a Queen's honor, a phoenix feels right for Gaz. Bright and burning wings and tail—a light that feels regal and elegant, yet so youthful and lively at the same time. With him in the sky, you're guaranteed to be safe under his watch. Or maybe a cervitaur with those doe eyes of his, gorgeous as ever. Yet equipped with a kick that's sure to shatter the ribs of those who mock him for being just a faun with a pretty face.

Undeniably, with such a specific callsign, Ghost can't be anything other than a wraith. Maybe mix in a bit of demonic blood, soul-eater tendencies, or even marks of an incubus for a little extra kick. His scars look more like shadowy cracks in his skin, smoke pours from the concerningly realistic skull he wears, he looks more like a reaper than a spirit. Regardless, this man is a shadowy phantom that provokes the fear of gods in whoever he sets his target as.

Roach, sure maybe his energy is fitting of a satyr or something more fitting and urban for our token American, like a roach version of Mothman. Bug wings and scales similar to the structure of an exoskeleton, But Roach came to be for being nearly indestructible, like the bug. In fact, it would be more accurate to call Roach, Roaches, as a bogeyman with a human body that can crumble into a swarm of those insects would explain why gunshots and explosions can hardly stop him.

Like Ghost, we can't deny who Hound is, either. Werewolf. Anything less would be criminal. For fun, mix it in with a bit of hellhound hybrid biology, so that he has to either go as a full hellhound or a human with hellhound features. Eyes that burn like Tartarus and a fanged snarl that even Cerberus would shudder at. Maybe even make him in charge of a hellhound K-9 unit, forced to face the very thing he fears.

As for the Reader? Well, that's up to you. Personally, I'm a little fond of shapeshifters. Might need to draw some of these ideas sometime...

Ah well, just some thoughts I had. Any other spitballs you guys have?

[nyxronomicon]

breaking your restraints because we need to know the endeavour thoughts <3

honestly just thinking about how large he is...

specifically I'm thinking about this artwork and also desperately trying to figure out an au where Enji would wear a suit bc 🥴🥴🥴 (I feel so insane about those sock garters ngl)

ok I'm just gonna spitball something (unrelated to the artwork lol) that has been floating nebulously in my head lol.

(vague spoilers for season 6 but i am actually only halfway through it lol...)

cw: GN!Reader, reader is married, domestic violence (unnamed husband hits reader), guilt, soft and angsty

.

You were his childhood best friend. As a kid, you always assumed the two of you would end up together. You were practically inseparable. He saved you from bullies a few times before they stopped bothering you. You even went to UA together, but you were one of the few quirkless students, and enrolled in the business course so it was getting harder to spend time together.

The more you heard about how well he's doing, how he's a hero now, the more inadequate you felt. You were just a quirkless nobody that would only ever burden him. Then you heard he'd be getting married to another quirk user. She was stunning and powerful, a much better fit for him than yourself.

You moved on and got a job working at a big hero firm. You dated, of course, and eventually got married yourself. Your husband wasn't good to you. He was a jerk, cocky, and had a bit of a temper (yeah, you have a type).

The two of you ended up getting in a heated argument because you've been working too much, not spending enough hours at his beck and call. You ended up in a screaming match, not entirely out of the ordinary, but this was different. You were crying, frustrated that this topic is coming up again. That he can't seem to accept that you're more successful than him.

Your husband was drunk and belligerent. He slapped you on the face so hard you tumbled to the ground, knocking over the wobbly bookshelf he never fixed. You were lucky it only fell on your ankle, but it throbbed with pain all the same.

Your neighbors called in the closest hero agency for domestic violence after hearing the screaming, and only moments after the shelf crashed on you, there was a knock at the door. Without a thought, your husband stormed over and flung the door open, snarling at the man at the door.

"Who the fu-" His words died in his throat when he saw the man plastered all over the news on his doorstep.

Endeavor had never seen your husband before. The two of you had lost touch long ago, nothing but memories of your childhood friendship left between you. He had no idea who the man in front of him was. However, with just a glance behind him, Endeavor saw the fallen bookshelf, trinkets and books strewn across the floor.

And then he saw you.

He didn't recognize you at first, more focused on assessing the situation and doing something about the asshole in front of him.

"Look, honey," your husband chuckled manically. "It's your favorite hero. Y'know, the abuser," he mocked, as if he thought the hero in front of him might turn a blind eye.

"Don't pretend you know anything about me." Endeavor growled in response before knocking your husband out in one hit. Seconds later, he was at your side with your soon to be ex-husband in a heap on the floor.

"You alright?" Guilt clawed at the back of his mind. The man was right, Endeavor was no better than him. He's seen this before, in his own home. By his own hands.

"Enji," you could only manage a whisper, your voice hoarse from the shouting and shock of the moment. His eyes widened, only just now noticing your features, the color of your eyes, and the crinkle of your smile when you added, "thank you."

He saved you before. In fact, you were the first person he saved. You were the reason he pushed himself, so quirkless people like you could live happy lives. The brief hit of nostalgia was immediately shattered when he remembered why he was here. Despite everything, you ended up with someone just like him.

"Sorry, you probably..." You hesitated, feeling heat rush to your face. God, you hadn't been embarrassed in years. "You probably don't remember me. I shouldn't have-"

"How could I forget you?" He interrupted you.

There was a long silence. The two of you were just looking at each other, the changes over the years could never hide the minute details you'd memorized years ago. His gorgeous blue eyes, his strong jaw, the deep red of his hair. But you noticed new things, too. His whole physique was larger, and with maturity brought wrinkles and the battle-hardened gaze that was fixed on you.

"You were..." Enji cleared his throat, thoughts a little lost after taking in the changes in you, as well. "You were the first person I saved." He remembered you as a child, but here you were, an adult, and you were far more stunning then he remembered, even with the tear stains on your cheeks. A distantly familiar feeling bubbled up that he could barely recognize. Just laying his eyes on you reminded him of the crush he had on you so many years ago.

He was sure it was just the nostalgia. No matter how much it felt like fate.

Another lingering moment passed, the words left unsaid flooding the room inch by inch. Both of you wanting to know more, but afraid to close the distance left by time. Not knowing where to start when the end could be as close as him walking out that door.

"Can you stand?" Enji finally spoke, his words softer than even he thought he was capable.

You glanced at your ankle, already red and beginning to swell. "I don't know." You shifted your weight, as if to get up.

"Stop." He placed a hand gently on your shoulder. "Don't try. Can I pick you up?"

It had been so long since someone had been so attentive. So long since someone cared when you were hurt. You couldn't stop the tears that spilled from your eyes again, choking on a sob instead of responding. He hesitated. Were you crying because of him? Because the hero sent to you was the one guilty of this crime himself?

You leaned on his shoulder, his familiar warmth was so comforting. He even smelled the same as he used to, the charred scent clinging to his skin transported you back in time.

"Seriously, Enji..." your voice cracked. "Where have you been...?"

It felt like his heart stopped. It was already broken and battered and beat to all hell. Enji was not the hero you always saw in him. He was just like the man still passed out on your floor. He knew his mistakes were unforgivable, but still, you were thinking about him this whole time.

"I'm sorry." He scooped you in his arms. "I'm here now." He didn't deserve this. You. He knew that. But he'd see this job through and make sure you were safe. It was the least he could do.

[zkoh001]

All the ninjago kiddos! That I remembered, lol.

Also I'm not sure if Echo counts, but this is my art soooo... He does now

Fun fact, way before Dragons rising was an idea, I had a little theory/AU thingie, where the ninja got sent to another realm, where time passed differently. (How funny, it was way before SotFS...) So basically these kids formed a replacement ninja team to fight the evils treathening ninjago, discovering they themselves are elemental masters. And that's been in my brain, slowly adding all the new kiddos to it. Might make some art, and a post about that too, because I would love to draw them.

Here's my spitballing on these dummies and their designs.

The Darkleys kids!

The little shits. They would be the ones to have kidnapping as their first resolve.

- I kinda didn't know Sally existed, but I liked all the art, so she does now. Also, she loves pink, I love pink, we all love pink

- Brad is definitely the muscle of the group, with a big heart, but not the greatest mind. Also, he has a babyface, that's very hard to make look evil.

- His design kinda grew on me with time, but it still feels a bit lacking...

- There's this theory that Gene is Skylor's brother, and Chen's son, that I kinda absorbed into my brain and ran with it so yeah.

-Also, the hand thingie is not a glove, it helps hold his hand together after a nasty injury :)

- The bowlcut was uniform at Darkleys, but Gene was such a nightmare they just gave up with him.

- They have matching pins and earpieces. Cause of course they do. Also, dumbo boots uniform.

The Paperkids!

Antonia and Nelson are a given, and I just kinda added Unagami on there, since he waved at them once. Also, I think it would be cute if they were friends.

- I know he doesn't anymore, canonically, but I like to think he still wears his purple gi under the jumper. Who knows when someone will need the purple ninja?

- He has a scar from the injury he had when he met with the ninja. Also, am I the only one who tought something much worse was going on than a broken leg? Obviously a kid show can't have a terminally ill kid, but fsm that's still how I remembered it.

- Antonia! I loved drawing her hair. Also kinda like her badass big sis vibes.

- She has her hands out to make sure the two kids, but mainly Nelson, don't go missing somehow (happens more often than you think)

- Even if he can shapeshift, I like to tjink Unagami keeps his line-marks in whatever forms, since it's apart of his skin. He can hide them, but it takes effort, so he just doesn't bother.

- He can change his form generally, but you could still tell it's him by the lines, eyes, and hair

- He has a little nick in his eyebrow, and so does (did i guess) Jay. I just think that's a cute detail

The Forgotten ones...

Just called that cause I had to add them on a separate canvas after forgetting them. I forgot Skales Jr, shame on me, I tought Jake and Nelson were one character, and I was still debating Echo. But here they are!

- It was surprisingly not that hard to draw him, even tho I was very scared

- Since he has white on him, I was trying (and failing miserably) to replicate those partially albino reptiles. Also added some pink scales, since he is also Selma's son, who's pink.

- I don't know to this day why Echo was introduced only to be left behind.... Nevertheless he's a sweetheart

- I guess if you count Mr.E, but then he would be dead... Unless the kids fix him (lightbulb moment)

- Also, ahy is his head weirdly tiny? How did that happen?

- Jake. Goddamnit, how were you the hardest to draw? Somehow I couldn't get the head right...

- The giant pants is an idea that lived in my head. I like yo think he would be able to fix ancient artifacts with hairties, ductape, and sheer force of will.

- He might have a bowlcut, but cmon, are you telling me he wouldn't at least try to replicate whatever the hell Kai's hair was in the beginning?

I guess that's it folks, lemme know if any of you are interested in my weird Ninja kids au thingie!

[meyerlansky]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @redbelles AND @inkpot-demigod 🖤💙🖤💙 took me eighteen years but i figured i ought to get it done before the emoji asks >_>

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

39!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

133,253

3. what fandoms do you write for?

right now it's just masters of the air, because i really only focus on one fandom at a time but i also don't really LEAVE fandoms so much as they go dormant for a bit. in the last year i've at least TOUCHED wips for boardwalk empire and the witcher, and once bachelor route drops i will probably go back to some of my pathologic 2 fics and maybe come up with new stuff. same with HotD s2, although i don't know how much new stuff will come out of that vs finishing up things in metamorphoses.

4. top five fics by kudos

keep safe broad shoulders, warm hands keds and tube socks vestis virum facit denuo

so mostly burakhovsky smut, except for keep safe which is outsider pov nearly-gen lambden (from the witcher and specifically witcher 3) fic, and i have NO idea how it's my most-kudosed fic; and keds and tube socks, which is a long-ass (for me) steddie fic that i WILL finish at some point i am so sorry to everyone who's subbed to that fic /o\

5. do you respond to comments?

I TRY MY BEST ;___; i really like talking to people about fic, mine and others', so every comment i've left unresponded-to haunts me, but sometimes i can't get over my own anxiety enough. the only time it's deliberate is if the only content in the comment is "you have to write more of this" or anything similar and phrased EXCLUSIVELY like a demand, because It's Rude and also i have no idea how to respond to that.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

explicitly angsty is probably with my ash-stained palms or broad shoulders, warm hands because neither ryuzo or daniil get what they want in those ones, though i think bswh!daniil would get what he wants eventually. ryuzo, maybe not >_> dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek) is also probably up there, but that's more interesting because it's not angsty on the page! and i WAS planning on leaving it as is, originally! that's why it has the canon compliant tag! but now i'm 8k deep in a canon-divergent sequel so idk if it counts anymore. genuinely i was planning on answering this with "i don't write a lot of unresolved angst" but. hm.

...wait, also hot blood, deep roots. which is the dark mirror nightmare counterpart of bswh and is... definitely worse. and i have something even worse in my wips okay i guess i write more angst than i thought

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably vestis virum facit, since the final section is implied to be far-enough post-plague that they're Gonna Be Okay. but like the angst question, i don't really think of too many of my fics as the And They Lived Happily Ever After, The End type so much as like... they're happy In That Moment and that's what matters

8. do you get hate on fics?

i got put on the patho fandom blacklist for associating with Freaks And Criminals, and then i wrote hot blood, deep roots to cement my spot on it, so if that counts that's the extent of it afaik. i do worry about catching flak for stuff down the line, but honestly haters tend to be cowards, sooo

9. do you write smut?

LOVE WRITING SMUT. LOVE IT WHEN MY GUYS NAIL EACH OTHER. IT'S MY FAVORITE. i had like a year-long stint before stranger things s4 where i only posted genfic and i was SO disappointed with myself, even though the stuff i posted was GOOD genfic

10. craziest crossover:

don't really do crossovers! but entertaining daemon au thoughts is how i know i'm in a fandom deep enough that it's gonna stick for a bit, even though i've only posted daemon au fic for bwe thus far

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

also not to my knowledge!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i'm not opposed to spitballing with people, and some of my best bwe work has come out of very long headcanon exchanges with @goatsandgangsters and @therestisdetail in particular, but i am not a consistent enough writer to saddle anyone else with my habits, so that's the closest i've gotten to cowriting anything.

14. all time favorite ship?

L A N S K I A N O. they are my forever boys. nothing will topple them. ever.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

NONE OF MY WIPS ARE ABANDONED THEY ARE ALL GOING TO GET DONE EVENTUALLY DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT

16. what are your writing strengths?

snappy dialogue and the internal character work involved in a tight third person pov, which is good since a tight third is the only way i like to write

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

speed. if i don't finish something inside of a week of starting it, it will drag out for an infinity and a half and i'll have to chip away at it and hate myself for being slow the whoooooooooole time. i also... i have no idea how to explain this, but i don't consider myself an especially creative person, so i have trouble if i don't have a jumping off point to start with? most of my fics have pretty solid touchpoints in the canon and tend to be one-shots, if not single-scene. coming up with new shit for my dudes to do can be a struggle. which, tbh, adds to the speed thing, especially for stuff that tilts off into canon-divergent territory

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

alright, listen, i might have an entire buryat dictionary database downloaded onto my hard drive to spice up patho fic, but i'm in agreement with previous answers on this one: it can get dicey to write in a language you don't know, and if your readers don't know it it will interrupt the flow in a way that's not usually what i'm looking to do in a fic. that said, most of my fandoms have at LEAST one non-english language involved, if not multiple, so i do end up doing a lot of research into those languages, and i'm absolutely not opposed to pulling out single-words or phrases after either a. checking with someone who speaks those languages, if it's a real one, or b. pulling them from their usage in the canon itself and/or sometimes extrapolating out a bit, like the high valyrian i peppered into chrysalis

19. first fandom you wrote in?

boardwalk empire my beloved 🖤🖤🖤 i played around with some stuff prior to that—i think i'd noodled with what would technically be alice in wonderland fic in high school, although i don't remember what happened in it—but nothing substantial enough to count as Actual Fic, and definitely not anything i have access to anymore

20. favorite fic you've written?

MAN. HOW TO CHOOSE. it's maybe a little bit of recency bias to say dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek), but i think it's a tie between that and junkyard dogs, and both for the same reason, which is that i am really proud of the character work they do with curt and eddie, respectively. i'm not SURPRISED jd is as low on the hits/kudos/etc scale as it is since it's genfic and billy is...... divisive........... but i really think i nailed eddie in it. with dctc(tc) it was fun to get to play with curt, who's... look, i'm just gonna say it, i think he gets mischaracterized in a lot of the other fandom stuff i've seen involving him, so it was fun to get how i read him down on the page. it's also interesting to not only develop curt internally but to look at the buckies from an outsider POV, because they are UNDENIABLY the love story at the center of MotA's narrative, but they're both IN IT so they can't SEE IT. i also don't usually do scene breaks? like most of my fics are single-scene but i dragged dctc(tc) out and shockingly it WORKED? so yeah idk i'm just really proud of it.

OKAY. WHOOF. TIME FOR TAGS. let's seeeeeeeeee i will tag @goatsandgangsters @hosseinis @chirpybirdy @sweaterkittensahoy @reiverreturns

@samuelroukin @stoportotouch @notgrungybitchin @adriennefrombrooklyn and anyone else who wants to, but no pressure as always!

[swashbucklery]

For your fanfic writer asks! 1, 3, and 9. Because I like your squidgy heart!!

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out and would you do it again?

Hmm, I think the thing that I did the most for the first time this year was - how do you put it, playing with other people's toys. I've done writing collaborations and cowriting before, and with the right cowriter I find it a truly magical process every time, but it's usually come from a place of the two of us spitballing about a common universe or premise and generating it collaboratively. This year was the first time I tried writing in other people's worlds where the other writer had done the building and premise-setting and I was given kind permission to step in and riff on it or write a divergence from it.

I think I did this the most with your AU worlds, with my NCI tie-in fics ((307) temporary redirect and (208) already reported) , and obviously Kinkverse with The Pieces and The Discovery, as well as if this room was burning (i wouldn't even notice)

It was a tremendously fun thing to do, that was - like quite nerve-wracking, because it takes a lot of bravery to write an AU and then a lot of trust to let someone else play in that little private world, and I always worry about doing justice to that world and treating it kindly and respectfully. But the rewards were so, so lovely. With the right writing friends, absolutely I'd do it again.

2. What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

I think - I didn't learn a lot that was new about my writing process specifically, but this year was really about re-awakening and re-affirming things that I knew worked for me before, that I hadn't been able to access. I write best writing whatever my capricious little heart wants, and I write best and most happily leaning into the weird nooks and crannies of my creativity. Having creative spaces where indulging in this found me like-minded people and community was a beautiful gift, and that combined with dialing down on the work pressures of the pandemic helped my words to flow so much more easily.

3. What fic meant the most to you to write?

Oh, hands down hands down over salt sea and flowerdeep fields and the whole ensuing OT3verse.

So like. Not to get Too Real or Too Personal but also that's kind of the point, I was Essential, Like So Fucking Essential, from March 2020 to - like I'm still in that essential job and the pressures that existed in 2020-23 are ever-present so I don't want to use past tense but also if I mention my work people appear to like, complain about their own personal and entirely unrelated bugbears and I don't want that but basically: it sucked. I am sure many non-essential people also had shitty times but I had a shitty time that was quite specific and isolating and I hope that 2024 is the year society reckons with that. And I achieved new tiers of life stress, tiers I did not know existed. I felt stress and then unlocked the secret back door of stress, transcended into Ultra Stress and that's something that can't *not* be transformative, despite all the coping strategies in the universe.

Late 2022 for me was the year of finally having enough breathing room to be like, okay, how can I claw back my personhood from this weird merging of personhood and occupation and societal role obligation and isolation that has flattened my entire life. So there was a lot of life stuff that I did as part of that, but the one result was that I had brain space to actually consume pop culture again. I joke a lot that I'm still at 2020, pop culture wise, and I think I will be for a while still, but - I had time, and I watched Willow. And it was the perfect combination of like. Right show, right story, right characters, and my heart having room to love stories in the way I used to love stories, before all of that happened to me. And the thing that it unlocked, specifically, was - the idea of the grand quest, and the richness that would be in the journey home. The idea of a journey home as a way of giving these characters a soft ending, and having it parallel the soft ending that I was cultivating for myself, and suddenly having that burning need to write a big fucking story. But, more critically, having room in my life that I actually could put that big fucking story to words. I thought salt sea would be maybe 10k, and I was a little overwhelmed about whether I could write something that long after a long break in writing longfic, but I kept plotting, and I taught myself scrivener to organize my thoughts, and every day I wrote a little bit and every day I remembered how much I loved storytelling, and writing, and diving into fantasy worlds. And every day this story got bigger and more mine and more complex and I reached out to fandom friends to ask for cheerleading and they were wonderful and gracious to me and then when I finally posted it, new people were curious and interested and that felt like a miracle. That story is a little slice of my heart, and getting it out there and completed and going on that journey was I think the most important thing about it. But the fact that now I've written even more in that world, that other people are curious and excited and pleased to hear about that world with me, is a gift that I can hardly express all of my gratitude for.

[blizzardsuplex]

WIP Fic Snippet

tl;dr: @rosabellebelieve's ask about a coffee shop AU led to me spitballing idea #4 (the Adam/Roddy one, natch) with @mobiblackout for a couple of hours last night. I have now written 2k words for it in a day (though I rewrote a large chunk of it after brainstorming a better idea with my bf so draft #2 is so far 1.26k). Enjoy a snippet of this dark comedy influencer AU under the cut! :')

“You literally scrolled through the Twitch top 100 and said…wait, let me find the most upvoted post on your new subreddit in the past month.”

“I got a new subreddit?” When did that happen? Adam didn’t pay much attention to Reddit, on account of being a cool nerd instead of pathetic. “What happened to the old one?”

“Got turned private.”

“Why?”

“Not important right now.” Kyle’s eyes scan the screen, stopping right in the middle. “Oh, here it is.” He clears his throat before beginning to recite what seemed to be a comment verbatim. “‘Chugs almost scrolled past it, but eventually went back up, saying “a pushup challenge? People watch this crap?” Mod Alyssa then told him in chat “he’s doing one push up a sub lol”, to which Chugs laughed (I think he was a bit drunk at this point) and said “oh, really? Well, why don’t we hop on over there and help him work out—what do you say, Chugs Army?’”

“...okay,” Adam says, worming his way into the briefest of pauses Kyle has left behind, “you have to admit that’s kind of funny—”

But it’s an overly desperate protest, even for him; he stops without thinking twice when Kyle raises his hand and continues reading. “‘Rodman1’s subscriber count doubled in the span of an hour. He also collapsed after his 1253rd push-up and had to have his roommate drive him to the hospital, LMAO’.”

[emonydeborah]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks for the tag, @curator-on-ao3 :)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 43

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 289,964

3. What fandoms do you write for? Whatever catches my fancy. Star Trek: Strange New Worlds has the most fics (8), but my most recent fic was for Black Widow.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Family First- a Coco fic, the first multichap I ever finished, I think. An AU where Victoria stole the guitar when she was a child and she and Elena got stuck in the Land of the Dead.

Sick of Waiting for a Miracle- angsty Encanto! My take of Mirabel growing resentful instead of desperate, and the family falling apart a lot harder. Happy ending though because I am who I am.

Patching Up- post-Incredibles 2 fic of Bob and Helen patching each other up (hence the name). Short fluff I am astonished was my third most kudos-ed fic.

From the Hands of the Weak- Black Widow AU where Alexei and Melina take Natasha and Yelena and run.

Tia Victoria one-shots- Listen. My Coco phase was strong. And I did not have standards yet, so I posted whatever came into my mind. Most of these are about her tragic death. Unfinished, or it would have made "angstiest"

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! I love responding to comments, especially to follow up on whatever the commenter found interesting.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I had to go back through my AO3 because no matter how much I put my little guys through, I usually like a happy ending. Technically it would be 5 Times Una Talked Chris Into a Breakup and 1 Time She Didn't. But that's part of a series that had a happy ending, so. I am redeemed.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'll go with The World That Lives In You. I always write with a happy ending in mind, even if I don't finish it, but I picked this one because it ends with a domestic little scene of a traumatized family being cute and well-adjusted together.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not that I have seen.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have, not a lot though. I have a little series where I put the Incredibles in the Harry Potter universe. The Incredibles were Aurors and you can't change my mind was a fun time when I was very into Incredibles 2.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Once, allegedly by accident.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, aside from spitballing ideas with @justreckin.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Don't do this to me.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? When I first started writing and posting fic, I had an enormous DS9 fic all planned out. It was going to span 20+ years, introduce so many OCs, and center around Kira Nerys, my OBSESSION for a long time. I posted maybe 4 chapters. RIP.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and cute little moments.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I get bogged down in details and lose sight of the long game. OR if my intention is to make a little moment stretch, it lasts two sentences. There is no in between.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I will do one or two words at a time, maybe a sentence if I can pull it directly from the source material and I know what it means and the context.

19. First fandom you wrote for? NCIS.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? oof oof oof. Great question. I have plenty that I go back and read just for fun. The one I'm proudest of right now is Discipline, Diligence, and Learning to Fly. My favorites to read are And the Time Eve Collected Human Beings Like Shiny Rocks and Keep Us Connected.

I'm late to the trend so I think everyone has been tagged. Anyone who wants to, and @fiadorable, @justreckin, @sun-lit-roses and @raddocwrites if you'd like! (unless you’ve already done it and don’t want to again 😂)

[vylad243]

Honestly with the way the Goethals act in general it could be safe to say most of them go down the line of “Anyone I perceive as lower than me I treat like shit” with a few accepting members like Stolas

But speaking of Stolas, if you feel more comfortable going off of what is canon, then maybe the idea could spin off of him? We know him to be respectful and to have enough pull to get meetings with a Sin so it wouldn’t be too far off to say Ozzy asked Stolas to check out the hotel to sponsor it. Maybe during introductions he only bows to Lucifer, the Sins, and Vox and everyone is confused?

Just spitballing with the other anons idea! Whatever you go with will be amazing regardless!

Also just a small question cause I’m curious of what you have planned but how many prompts are you planning on writing/is in your Que? I have like a shit ton of prompts in my inbox and need filtering advice if you’re willing 😭

I am the goddess of fucking around and finding out

I don't mind canon or going off canon. My Alastor and Vox are very ooc after all, but I know the fandom tends to hold Helluva Boss in a higher standard. I never really liked it that much. I've watched it- but I'm Striker. Why does everything gotta be a sex thing? The two season finales were my favourite of Helluva Boss, which ironically included little to no Stolas

I could definitely see Stella and her brother treating the sinners and overlords are faith on their shoes while Stolas and Octavia hold the sins and Vox in higher regard

Ozzie would definitely be pulling the strings to get Stolas to visit the Hazbin Hotel if I go that route.

I like working off of your guy's ideas. It's very fun and helps me world build 🙏

~~~~~~

Ahahaha my ask box is also full of different prompts. I have omega-verse, the Vee's joining the battle, and injured Alastor are three I can name off the top of my head (because I'm writing them right now) but I think I have like 10 or 11 in there. One is also a beauty and the beast ay which I'm mulling over

As for how I filter them out- prompts are things I want to be able to enjoy writing. Some of my prompts have been quite large- and while I don't mind the large ones, it gives me a lot less freedom with them because I feel like I have to rewrite a whole story that was just in the my box. I never deleted any, though. I just put them in their in tag just in case I feel like writing them later- but ones I am writing right now/want to write sit in my box so I can shuffle through them. It keeps it organized

I haven't encountered any rude people yet- so I haven't had to reject anyone for demanding things from me (which like I'm always ready for a debate on the internet, I find them funny) and with how nice everyone is, I usually feel bad for denying them. It's way I take so long to deny people. I want to make sure this is actually something I don't plan on writing in the near future

My way to filter out prompts is

- I need creative freedom to write so I don't feel miserable writing. This is one of the main ones. My brain is very hectic and I find myself tapping out if I can't bring my own ideas to the table. It's also why none of my works are exactly like the prompts im given

- I have enough context to write a fic on it

- I would actually enjoy writing it

- it's a world/au I'm aware of or contributed to. Nothing is worse than being handed a fully built universe and being asked to write for it with little to no explanation on how the universe works

- the people are nice to me.

- I know I make a few jokes here and there, but I like to keep in mind that I'm making free work for people. I'm not being paid to do this, and people aren't paying me to write out the prompts. I love writing fanfiction and it's a great hobby, but if you're genuinely just not interested in doing something- you don't have too. Writing it meant to be fun and inspiration is a fickle thing. You don't want to push it too hard or it's going to shove back. I've learnt that the hard way

- bonus way to do it- sometimes people leave comments, and I find them funny, and I get creative with them. I censored a whole chapter of month in rut because someone told me to let the characters swear. I'm also a very petty person

This is just personal, but I keep my prompts 1k-3.5k words just so it's decently sized, but not overly large

Hope this helps!

[pbaintthetb]

Since you're currently rewatching House... "I wish you would write a fic where" the MDZS crew are in a modern day AU and NHS drags NMJ to House because of his strange qi deviation symptoms :) Bonus points if Wen Qing is one of House's interns!

oooh very interesting idea. So, I took a stab and have about 2.5k of random segments (not chronological sorry) I did find the voices kind of hard to get

s1-3 era i guess if only because it's the original duckinglins + wen qing. It's also slightly unclear whether cultivation exists in this and if so whether people know about it or not but eh

If i do more segments, becuase i had some in mind I will reblog this and add on to it but I make zero promises. Not sure how many of the things you wanted I hit but I had fun spitballing, even if the House and WQ voice is hard

***

“I didn’t realise they let war criminals work in hospitals these days,” Mingjue comments, it’s meant to sound idle, but to Huaisang it sounds icey. He expects it sounds pretty damn icey to Wen Qing too.

“Good thing I’m not a war criminal then,” Wen Qing refutes with a tight smile, moving her stethoscope to Da-ge’s back. Mingjue humphs, Huaisang digs into his thigh with his key through his trouser pocket and wishes he didn’t have to be so responsible.

Not because he wants Xichen or A-Yao to be doing this (not necessarily at least) just… Huaisang had moved heaven and earth to be here and frankly he’d rather not. They haven’t met Dr House either yet… though from what Nie Huaisang had read that might actually be a good thing.

He looks at his brother and Wen Qing again, her face is in deep concentration, and Mingjue’s is furrowed in an expression that means discomfort of some kind. What kind, Huaisang doesn’t know. For all he prides himself as a brother, he’s no expert in reading the microexpressions. 

And a lot has happened recently, a lot of things that could be causing discomfort in all kinds of ways.

Or maybe it’s even guilt for how he’s been acting. Huaisang wouldn’t know. His brother has been a growing stranger to him these past few months. And then last night…

Nie Huaisang looks at his brother in Wen Qing’s hands and thinks about maybe getting some air, maybe even going on a walk to the coma ward. But he can’t bear to leave his brother, and as he looks at Wen Qing, he feels- somewhat despondently- that she’s a lot stronger than he is.

But Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to be strong, Da-ge’s strong, Huaisang is persistent and weak. Which is why he’s dragged his brother here, despite all the complaining. He knows he’s only being humoured, and he knows why he’s being humoured.

But Huaisang will take a hundred burnt fans if it means a healthy Da-ge. Besides, a hundred burnt fans would still leave the nice one Jiang Cheng got him after they left that Gusu Summer camp a while back.

“How long have you been having these symptoms?” Wen Qing asks clinically, bringing Huaisang’s focus back into the room. He chides himself, what is the point of being here if he doesn’t pay the utmost attention?

***

“Don’t you wonder how your intern and Guangyao know each other?” the big guy demands. The way the big guy spits the name suggests some kind of history there. House is kind of interested, except he expects it’ll be pretty banal so, maybe not.

“I don’t know,” House drawls, twirling his cane, “She’s a renowned doctor, he’s an innovative music therapist, both working at hospitals in New Jersey- of course!” he gasps sarcastically, “Did they meet in a sex dungeon?” He tuts, shaking his head, “Naughty, naughty Qing. First Chase, now her- do you reckon she uses those needles for extra-curricular purposes?”

Just for good measure House throws in a leer. If he’s reading this guy right, wound up and uptight as he is, he’s about to lunge. Which means House can get him restrained. Which means House has a better chance of doing the tests he wants with the consent of the obviously confused, and obviously devoted little brother.

There’s a story there too… but House has no time for sob stories.

The big guy stares at him flatly.

“There’s no shame  in sex, that would be a stupid reason for me to be angry at them.”

Interesting.

“Whoa! Who said anything about being angry?” House asks all mock confused,  “I thought we were just discussing how they met?”

The patient gives him another side eye.

“You’re not half as slick as you think you are.” With that the guy settles back down in bed.

Which is just hurtful really. Also interesting. House doesn’t exactly think he’s trying to be slick, so it’s interesting that the patient thinks he is.

***

“Cuddy’s been hunting House all day to get him to do his clinic hours,” the blond doctor explains, probably to his colleagues, because they adopt matching expressions of complete comprehension.

“Oh really,” Da-ge hums, expression unimpressed, and he’s looking right at Huaisang. Huaisang gulps. “Sounds lik-”

Whatever it was that Da-ge was going to say shirking work sounded like (and Huaisang has really no idea!) is cut off by the sudden spew of blood from his mouth.

Sadly- and it really is, at this point Huaisang is kind of used to it so he’s not even-

He’s not even surprised.

He still screams and flinches though, crying and begging the doctors to do something.

And they do, running around, saying words just short of a yell that all sound very serious and complicated. So Nie Huaisang stops yelling,  because nobody needs his words too.

***

Mingjue doesn’t like Dr. House because the man is a dick. It does not mean, however, that he doesn’t respect him. Dr House is honest, at least. Unlike some people. Dr House is honest about having no real regard for Mingjue, no respect for order or regulations, a purely academic understanding of morality and being a curmudgeony arse.

Nie Mingjue isn’t overly fond of Wen Qing either, though that’s less to do with her skills and her honour. Mingjue has faith in those because he’s experienced them first hand. He just doesn’t like her.

Plenty of people have done things they didn’t really like very much in circumstances they’d infinitely prefer to not be in. But there’s always a choice but Wen Qing had made hers, and Mingjue- well. What happened happened in the way it did.

House, Dr House is staring at him rather intently. Mingjue lets him, he’s used to being stared at. He hit six-foot when he was fourteen, and he’s six-four now with the breadth to match. And he’s used to being stared at because ever since their father died all the questions have been directed at him. And he’d certainly been stared at under Men- Jin Guangyao’s dark stare in that room wit-

Mingjue cuts off that train of thought, feeling his head pound. The Doctor is still staring at him, leaning forward.

“Your brother thinks you’re crazy, you know? Cuckoo, loo-loo, the whole works.”

Mingjue doesn’t say anything, his hands fist in the sheets. He knows. He knows Xichen thinks so too and that’s why nobody ever listens to anything he says. They look at him and see his father twenty years too soon.

But Huaisang didn’t drag him here to have his head looked at. Huaisang’s happy to defer to Xichen and the rat about that. Mingjue knows that, he knows that. He’s here because Huaisang sees their father twenty-years too soon and there’s been a countdown going off in his didi’s head since the first time he found the bloody tissues Mingjue had stuffed in the bin in an ill-thought out plan of hiding them.

Honestly though, how was he to suspect Huaisang would be looking in the rubbish, the little brat never did any tidying and now Mingjue is here when it’s all-

“Huh,” Dr House says thoughtfully, “You do know. Maybe you’re not crazy then, crazy’s not usually so self-aware.”

Mingjue’s not so sure. Their father had been self-aware enough between all the moments where he wasn’t to be horrified. Not that that horror had done much, locked into an endless battle with their father’s pride. He’s not sure how to word all of this to Dr House, and he’s not even sure if he wants to. So he doesn’t.

Mingjue’s here because Huaisang wants him to be here and Mingjue wants Huaisang to be safe. Mingjue’s proud, but not so proud as their father. If he lashes out here there’s a syringe of haldol waiting for him and orderlies to hold Huaisang back.

Mingjue would prefer not to be here, but if Huaisang won’t let him alone (and Mingjue knows his didi can’t) then this is the best place to be.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away, you know,” the irritating doctor singsongs. It tempts Mingjue to try, even though he’s had years of a little brother and is very well acquainted with this fact.

***

“San-ge and Er-ge would never hurt Da-ge,” Huaisang objects, voice going high with his wail. They swore a brotherhood! Sure, things aren’t so good right now, but things aren’t always so good with Huaisang and Mingjue and neither would hurt the other.

The stupid Dr House just cocks his head. Wen Qing is standing a little behind him, face carefully blank.

“Very convincing. You convinced enough to stake your brother’s life on that?”

“I-” Huaisang starts, stops. Heart trembles. It feels like a betrayal. Saying no. Saying yes.

He looks at Wen Qing and thinks about the coma ward, three floors down, 2 corridors across.

“I wouldn’t stake my brother’s life on anything,” he refutes. Concession, admission, permission, whatever.

***

“I don’t know,” Foreman responds, “My brother and I? We were never like that.”

Chase is sprawled out in a chair, Cameron is the same but she’s doing a much better job of making it look elegant. Foreman is leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped.

And Wen Qing is standing there, like it’s her first day again, an outsider.

It’s this case, she knows the patient and she doesn’t know him and she- Well she doesn’t know much about Huaisang. But A-Ning had said enough things before that she’s just…

But as much as she doesn’t really know either of the brothers, she does know this.

“Both their mothers died in childbirth, and their father’s been dead for over a decade,” Wen Qing interjects, walking over to the coffee pot so she doesn’t have to look at them. She thought she’d buried this when she’d moved here. Except for A-Ning; she could never bury him, Wen Qing refuses. 

“They’ve only got each other.” The pot’s empty and she scowls in disgust. “Siblings like that- they either can’t stand each other or they’d do anything for each other.” Maybe both. She doesn’t think of a certain little brother of her own, because she’s on the job right now and even as she’s always thinking of him she can’t.

“They’re half brothers?” Cameron asks, and Wen Qing won’t take this accusation.

“Yeah it’s in their history, I-”

“No- no,” Cameron waves her off, “It’s just- Huaisang seems so convinced as much as it’s like their father’s illness, it’s different- and Huaisang seems utterly unaffected. What if it’s something Mingjue got from his mother?”

“What, like a completely different condition that just mimics the one his father had?” Foreman snorts, kicking out his legs, “That’s likely.”

“Or maybe…” Chase starts like he’s had a thought, “It’s some kind of [interaction]. He got his father’s illness, and he’s got something from his mother that’s making it act like this.”

They all consider that for a moment.

“We need to tell House.” Wen Qing’s already walking out of the room.

***

“The mental symptoms!” House yells, “The guy’s got fucking PTSD- and nobody noticed, not even his supposedly so devoted brother.”

“But-”

“Oh jeez, if only there was a reason that the mental symptoms were so much more aggressive and and in flux than what they reported of his father- if only there were a doctor on my team who knew the patient, but-”

Wen Qing burns, she burns so hard she can’t even hear the insult to her character House is no doubt lumping out. She can’t talk about this, she can’t.

Meng Yao’s, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, has good fucking lawyers, and enough skills to have kept himself alive under her Uncle’s watchful eye for a year. Wen Qing had signed, and signed, and A-Ning’s upstairs and Meng Yao’s somewhere else and-

Mingjue is worth nothing compared to A-Ning, do no harm be damned. And not even Huaisang’s fury is enough of a motivation. She understand that fury, she understands it well, it burns inside her everyday her brother doesn’t wake up.

“I said,” Wen Qing hisses, aware of the stares of her fellow interns on her, and the genuine angry glare of House, “That I suspected he’d been through trauma recently- as did his brother!”

House does not look calmed in the slightest, he takes a step toward her.

“Well maybe next time use the word ‘torture’. It’s got a certain buzz that really makes it shine out as an alarm bell.”

Her ears ring, and ring. She can’t say anything, and if anyone else is speaking, she can’t hear it.

***

Wilson doesn’t know how he always ends up in House’s conference room dragged into a case that clearly isn’t cancer and therefore doesn’t need an Oncologist to consult. But, well, House is House (demanding bastard) and Wilson is Wilson (needy bitch) so maybe he does know.

The children as House would term them are all throwing out theories and Wilson is following along well enough to understand, but nothing’s sounding like cancer and House never hired Wilson so he’s not really giving out any theories.

That’s when the man walks in. Anybody unknown walking into Houses’ office can go a few ways, so Wilson preemptively prepares for something to be thrown. Except the guy’s just looking at Wilson.

“You have another doctor in your team?” the man asks House uncertainly, but he’s still looking obsessively at Wilson. It’s kind of weird.

“No, no, I’m just here as a consult,” Wilson explains politely, “Dr James Wilson.” He extends a hand.

The man- who’s kind of more of a kid takes it nervously, still staring at him.

“You’re an oncologist,” the unknown guy, who is probably related to House’s current patient in some way, states. Brother? 

“Yeah I am,” Wilson chuckles awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. “How did you know that?” Because if he knew the patient knew he was an oncologist, he wouldn’t have said. Nobody likes hearing you’re an oncologist, unless you’re saying you’ll never see them again. And even then, sometimes they don’t like it.

“It’s on your door,” the brother of the patient says, still sounding uncertain. “Does this mean you think my brother has… uh- I mean, whatever it is that oncologists treat?” his voice has gone up at the end.

Mentally, Wilson is raising a brow, externally he is not. He is a professional and actually knows what the term ‘bedside manner’ means, unlike some people in this room.

House doesn’t raise a brow either, but that’s because House doesn’t believe in restricting yourself to non-verbal symbols of rude disbelief when words can be twice as insulting.

“Whatever oncologists treat,” House drawls mock sympathetic, the patient’s brother twitches with what could be embarrassment. “No, we don’t. Dr Wilson is just here to stare at Cameron’s ass. Or maybe Chase’s- who can tell them apart from behind?!” 

Wilson looks to the ceiling for salvation while House guffaws and Chase and Cameron scowl.

The guy is still looking at Wilson, and taking pity, Wilson divulges.

“No, we don’t think he has cancer.”

The guy nods, not as if this is good news, but rather as if this is news he’s always known.

***

“Brother shops around for the best diagnostician he can find, but doesn’t even know what an oncologist is?” House shakes his head and helps himself to some of Wilson’s fries. Wilson offers a put-upon expression in return, but he hasn’t touched his drink so he’s probably not actually put upon. Besides, Wilson knows House is going to eat his food, if he wants it to stop happening he should stop buying it.

“So?” Wilson asks, playing his role of audience participation in their private one-man show as always. “I didn’t realise that your webpage had the definition of oncology on it- right underneath your name I suppose?.”

House shoots him a look for the snark. And the blatant missing of the obvious point.

“The first thing anybody does, when they google symptoms is find cancer,” House explains, Wilson nods, so maybe he gets it too now. Gets how weird it is- and House doesn’t like things that don’t make sense.

“Ok,” Wilson is still nodding and House takes some more fries while he’s distracted, “But isn’t he here because he thinks his brother has what their dad had? Which wasn’t cancer? So he doesn’t think it’s cancer, so doesn’t need an oncologist. He’s deadset on it being this one thing so he’s not looking at anything else.”

House shakes his head, he doesn’t know what it is or why it’s bothering him but it is.

“He’s here because he thinks it’s not operating like what their dad had, which is when worried younger siblings start running down the cancer route and looking for the best Oncologist they can find-” he shoots Wilson a significant look “-but he skips that altogether and brings his brother here- his sick brother who’s been sick for a while but only just agreed to come.”

It’s interesting, it’s a puzzle. House likes puzzles and he’d rather puzzle out what’s affecting the older brother right now, but a man can always multitask.

[sparkycinnamon]

hahaha, you know how "x" is sometimes used as a variable for an unknown number in math?

what if...alphabet lore au where x is brainwashed into forgetting that he's a letter and into thinking that he's a variable instead?

[bokettochild]

Opera House AU - Mother's Day: Part 1

So, @cantankerouscanuck sent me a list of Mother's Day fic ideas, and on it was one for the Opera House AU we've been spitballing.

So please enjoy some messy Mother's Day drama from the opera house's own dusky starlit and prop master!

(Unfortunately, this is going to come in two parts, because I want at least one out on Mother's Day itself, but this got LONG fast)

  Mother’s Day is a hard day every year.

  The first one was the hardest, her babies were born in November, and she’d only had one precious month with them, one precious Christmas, before their father had arrived to swoop them away, apologizing, eyes lowered while her parents all but threw her children into his arms and pushed him out of the door, all too happy to never again see their grandbabies.

  She wasn’t supposed to be a mother, they said. Not yet. She was first to find a good man, with money, position and power, who would woo her and adore her and meet every expectation they had set, and only after marriage would she be allowed to have three perfect children.

  She’d already had two, perfectly wonderful children, but that didn’t matter.

  Her first mother’s day, once her parents had gone to bed and she’d been left among the flowers and festivities, Dusk had sobbed her heart out.

  She told herself it wasn’t right, that she wasn’t a mother so she had no right to cry, but cry she did, and come morning, only skillful contouring and concealing had hidden the evidence before she’d headed back to school.

  Now, seventeen years later, she wakes on the dawn of the day before; Mother's Day a haunting spectre in the distance, and now all the more vengeful for one reason.

  He calls someone else ‘mother’.

  She doesn’t think of it, doesn’t bother. Does. Not. Think. Of. It.

  She dresses for her day, contours and conceals, ties back her hair and grabs her keys, and heads out from the little house she’d bought, the home for the children she’d hoped to find, and maybe, maybe the lover she’d left behind? If he would take her? Except he’s dead now, long dead and gone, or so she’s heard, and the children… the children…

  No, she can’t think of them. Instead, she drives, she grabs coffee, because it’s going to be a long day, and since she’s there already it only makes sense to pick up some for the others. Black coffee for Lullaby and Four, Chai Tea for Time (who prefers to drink coffee only in the evenings), Twilight’s silly fancy order that made her laugh the first time she’d seen the rugged cowboy drinking something so fru-fru and fancy, and those of the others she knows will be there today. Warriors like his coffee with shots of caramel and Flora likes mocha’s with the absolute highest limit of espresso shots, until her hands are shaking, but she says it makes carrying her eye bags easier. Ravio likes his cinnamon coffee and Hyrule loves darjealing tea and Legend….

  Legend likes dark chocolate mochas with a pump of caramel and a stick of cinnamon, whipped cream heaped up until it risks floating out of the cup. It’s the one order she knows best, besides Lullaby’s of course, and Twilight’s because she can’t even try to begin to forget that one.

  Coffee gathered, and threatening to spill over from the carriers, she heads for the opera house. It’s not a long drive, and when she gets there she’s greeted by the sight of Hyrule at the loading dock, unloading some new set piece from a semi and waving to her the moment a hand is free. She nods back, her own hands full of hot drinks. She does lift the carrier to show him though, and the boy's already bright smile gets all the brighter at the promise of something hot and sweet when he’s done. 

  She always grabs extra demerara packets for the kid. She’s not sure how sweet exactly he likes his tea, but what he doesn’t use he’ll eat on its own when he gets a moment. Legend teases him and says he’s addicted to sugar like some druggie, but while the kid flushes and gets flustered, he never complains, and while Legend may tease, she knows her- the boy, carries snacks on him and slips them into the stage-hand’s pockets when he thinks no one is looking.

  “Morning, Miss Dusk!” Brown eyes glitter in greeting as said stage hand pops back in through the doors, waving briefly to the semi-driver and hopping down from the loading port, feet scuffing pavement sharply as he jogs over to her, smile bright and sweet. “Need some help there?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” she nods to the still open car door, “i think I got everyone’s.”

  There’s a pause while the boy gathers the remaining carriers and checks them over, softly murmuring to himself before frowning. 

  She knows in an instant she missed something.

  “Just about,” Hyrule says, and whomever’s order she somehow forgot is left unknown as he smiles up at her again, brown curls bobbing under the paperboy cap he’s been wearing since Time plopped it on his head one time during rehearsal. Kid hasn’t been on stage yet, but they’re working on it and in the meantime, their manager and director seem perfectly happy to pass old costume pieces to the rag-tag stage hand. Forgetfully, of course, or so they’d claim, but she knows they have a soft spot for him. Everyone does.

  She nods, and she doesn’t ask what she missed, just as he doesn’t tell, and they enter the opera house together.

  Familiar buzz greets her.

  She’s been performing since before she had the twins. Captain of the drama club in highschool and minoring in performing arts while in college. Mother had wanted her to become a singer and she’d learned the craft and followed it for years until it led her, desperate, to the doorstep of this place.

  Lullaby was her saving grace, welcoming her in. And while Time had been dubious about her, Warriors had welcomed her with open arms and taken her under his wing until she was comfortable enough here that she was ready to start teaching him a thing or two.

  Now, he’s the one to greet her next as she enters, swooping by with a kiss to her cheek and a cheeky grin as he swipes his coffee order from her carrier and heads back to the rehearsal rooms they’ll be working in today, well aware that her hands are too full to smack him for his boldness.

  Backstage is a buzz, as always, but more so today. Twilight and Sky are lifting some new delivery of some sort to move across the stage to the storage space Legend most likely has assigned it, Lullaby still stands in the dock, signing for the order and shouting directions to the others who dance around the lift Four has currently got standing in the middle of things as he attempts to fix the stage light that went out on them last night, mid-performance.

  Legend shouts some warning to said workers as well, to move, stopping the forklift he’s currently using to carry a pallet of yet more delivered items elsewhere in the building as Wild darts across his path, carrying a tool Four is still shouting for someone to bring him.

  She’s pretty sure Wild climbing the scissor lift is both a health and safety risk, but honestly, she’s stopped bothering to point that out. Wild won’t be stopped, not by OSHA and certainly not by any of them.

  “That coffee?” Lullaby asks, handing over the order forms to the delivery boy and turning to her looking like she hasn’t slept since after their show last weekend.

  “Black,” is her answer, holding up the carrier and letting her boss take the paper cup and promptly chug half in one go.

  Time, crossing behind her, grabs for his, not bothering to look. He grabs the wrong one and immediately makes a face as he’s greeted by sweetness and sugar. “Pup, come get your abomination!”

  “Not until that set piece is secured!” Legend hollers back, jumping out of his forklift and darting across the stage to manually shoo everyone out of his way so he can finish moving the boxes, without killing them. “I just got that thing and I will NOT have it broken before it can be used!”

  “Didn’t we buy it?” Time murmurs, under his breath as Hyrule helpfully hands him his proper cup.

  “We buy it, he handles it,” Lullaby chuckles, “you know our props and supplies might as well be his own babies with how much attention he pays them.”

  “He makes things last,” Hyrule pipes up, and then flushes and ducks his head. He does that a lot. Kid has a lot to say but gets nervous at the sound of his own voice, and if not for Ravio and Legend chattering at him all the time, Dusk is pretty sure the teen would still be at the point where he couldn’t even talk to them beyond the basic “yes sir/ma’am” and “no sir/ma’am” that he’d some to them with.

  Time sighs, plopping his pup’s confectionary coffee back it’s carrier and sipping his tea with what sounds like relief. “That he does.”

  Most of the others are busy, so she lays the carriers out on the table in the back, well away from any of Legend’s carefully organized stacks of items or haphazard piles of paper, and moves for the rehearsal rooms with her own hot drink and Arty’s in hand. She’s just heading through the door when she overhears a sweet sunshine voice from across the way.

  “Sky! Fi needs you in Room F when you’re free!” and then, only a half a moment later, “Legend, you too! Fable called in sick last night!”

  The teen’s answer has her stopping in her steps, leaning against the wall for just a moment to catch her breath.

  “Yes, mom, be right there!”

  Mom.

  He’s… he’s her kid.

  Not that he knows it. She hadn’t even known, not when she came here, and especially not when she’d met him.

  She’d joined the opera house’s cast a year ago when the funds she’d poured into finding her lover and children had run out around the same time as she found out that Raven had died a year ago. The twins, she hadn’t a hope of finding, but she’d been out of money and desperate, so when Midna had suggested the Crown City opera house she’d been willing to do whatever they wanted if it meant she had enough to cover the bills.

  Legend had come back three months into her contract.

  She’s not sure what sort of a kid he used to be, but everyone in the building talked about him like he’d somehow changed. She’s gotten from Twilight that the kid had been overseas to supposedly meet with his estranged father, but what happened while he was gone, apparently no one, not even the teen’s uncle, really knows.

  She hadn’t pegged him as hers then, and it had taken until a month ago, a whole year at the opera house, before the truth hit her in the face.

  Legend was her son. Is her son. What had happened to her daughter, she’s still not entirely sure, but Legend, this kid who’s uncle works at the same opera house she does, is her own son, and she’d found out by accident.

  A night on the town, a performance gone well. Opening night for their last big show had been a hit and Lullaby had taken them all out for drinks on her own dime as a reward for their performance, hardly any hiccups, and a full house of paying customers. She’d been a bit tipsy, she thinks they all were, at least those of drinking age, and while she’s not sure exactly why the conversation had turned to the pink-haired teen, she knows she’d been seated with Twilight at the time. 

  Everyone at the house knew the burly cowboy was the kid’s guardian. She’d only found out that night that he was Legend’s uncle. She’d asked about parents, but she’d almost regretted it ar the wince on the man’s face.

  “My brother’s kid,” he’d answered, fiddling with the bottle of beer in his hand and staring up at the ceiling to avoid looking at her. “I didn’t know I even had a brother- foster kid, y’know? Then he appears outta nowhere with a set of twins and begs me to help him, claims he’s got nothin’ and no one to help.” A sip, a scowl. “Mother up and dumped ‘em on him. He couldn’t work and watch ‘em both, so he begged me to take one, said he’d pay me fer it.” A shake of the head, brown hair falling in midnight eyes. “I told Raven I wouldn’t hear of ‘em going to foster, so I took Ledge, and I’ve done my best by him. His dad sends funds, but I ain’t never seen him since the kid was a baby.”

  And well, Raven? She’d had to ask. No, she’d been dropping her glass and catching the man’s sleeve, begging him for a name.

  Raven Sutherland.

  Twilight’s biological brother, although they’d never known each other.

  Legend’s father.

  Her highschool boyfriend and the father of her kids.

  They’d both been a mess. Twilight had had so, so many words for the woman who’d supposedly walked out on his nephew, and so many more now that Legend had apparently ‘changed’.

  She’d promised, tearful and half drunk, to fix it.

  She’s still no closer to it now than she was when she’d handed over the little cherub seventeen years ago.

  And now, now she’s trying, she’s been fighting with herself for a month, how to tell him, how to make it right. Except even before she came here, Legend Sutherland had already found a family and a home in this opera house she’d only chanced to stumble upon.

  He was calling Sun “mom” since before she knew this place existed. Calls Sky “dad” when he’s not paying attention. The whole building views him as their own. They’re a family, Lullaby had said as much on her first day here, but those who’ve been here long enough; Legend, who’s been here since he was a baby, don’t know them as anything less.

  Lullaby and Time, best friends and occasional enemies, are as good as grandparents to the younger ones, the rest aunts, uncles and cousins, and, in Legend’s case, he’d chosen a mother for himself in the sweet voiced alto that’s been working here since highschool.

  He doesn't have any way of knowing the truth. She wants to tell him, but after so long, after watching in the wings for a month while this boy heals from whatever broke him, she wonders if she has any right to disturb him.

  Twilight’s eyes, on her, watching, dark and judgemental where once she’d nearly fallen for them (he really is so much like his brother) are the only thing stopping her from letting go altogether and letting Legend live in peace with the family he'd found on his own.

  “He deserves answers,” Twilight had told her, pulled out onto the parking lot and sitting on the curb while they’d sobered up, all the celebration gone from them. “He’s been asking me since he was a tot. Looked for them himself and came back all broken and sad. He deserves to know, Dusk.”

  “What if he hates me?” She’d asked, mascara smeared on her cheeks and the stage hand's handkerchief in her hands to wipe it away.

  His eyes were colder than the midnight sky above them as they’d turned to her. “You left him, Dusk. Ain’t the other way round. He’s been hurting for years. Least you can do as his mom, is give him answers, never you mind what happens to you.”

  So she’s been trying.

  She’s been trying to get closer. Twilight's eyes on her all the while when she’d asked what the teen’s coffee order is, what’s been his favorite role here.

  Legend is a cold person. She’s sure it’s not something he learned from Twilight, not with how open the man is, sweet and playful and warm in all ways to the kid. And watching them together, she just knows there’s something warm and soft beneath the cold veneer of the younger, but she doesn’t get to witness it. All she sees is the snapping and scolding and sighs and groans and complaints as wigs, gowns and props are bustled hither and yon. Sees the quick and efficient manners and movements, the thoughtless strokes of the brush when Styla’s overworked and they need someone else on makeup. She only sees the kid for the stage Legend, her little Link as someone who’s already grown and sure, certain in his path and confident in his field. She witnesses the little smiles when he shows Hyrule things, the playful back and forth between him and Wind as the younger kid darts in and out of the opera house, running errands and fetching items and snarking off at the pink-haired teen all the while.

  But she doesn’t really know anything.

  She doesn't know why his hair is pink; why he dyed it that color, what it means, if it matters. She doesn’t know what school he went to. Twilight was dubious about telling her anything once he knew, saying she ought to find that out from the kid himself, but she knows he graduated early, knows- because Twilight’s wallet is overflowing with pictures- that the boy had graduated with honors and Twilight had cried. Knows the smile she’s seen in the pictures was softer than then the hard edged thing she witnesses now, even when it is turned to their newest employee.

  She’s missed so much, and most importantly, she has no clue how to make up for that.

  So she does what she’s always done. She bites her lip, straightens her shoulders, tosses her head, and heads to rehearsal like it’s any other day in her calendar.

  Warriors and Artemis greet her with smiles, scripts scattered around them and laughter on their lips as she pulls up a chair, hands Arty her latte and pulls out her own script.

  “You good there, Dusky?” Artemis asks, face pinching, cherry painted lips pouting in the way that wins her so much adoration from her fans. “You look tense.”

  “Is Twilight bothering you again?” Warriors asks, cocking a brow, all sharp features and lovely eyes and smooth, seamless motions. They’re gorgeous, the pair of them, a headline duo she’s honestly shocked to find still working in a opera house and not somehow scooped up by some agency or talent scout over the years. Yet, here they are, and even though there’s weariness in Warriors’ eyes and Arty’s cheeks are just the slightest bit drawn, they seem happy here.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine,” the younger woman answers, crossing her arms with a frown that says she’s trying to read the other woman but probably failing.

  Warriors furrows his brows, leaning a bit closer and earning a look from her in return. He’s not dissuaded. Warriors isn’t the sort of man to take no for an answer, at least not where his friends are involved and seem like they’re in trouble. Romantically, it’s never been an issue, but when it comes to pressing them for answers, he’s always game. “Are you sure? You look a little…”

  “Finish that sentence and Legend might be covering for tonight’s performance,” Artemis warns him, sipping her latte with a chuckle, “you should know by now not to comment on woman’s appearance unless it’s to compliment her.”

  The man rolls his eyes, sitting back and letting her be as he shakes his head at his coworker. “You women, so picky.”

  “That’s one,” painted lips part in a smile. “You really sure you want Legend on stage tonight? Don’t you have friends coming in to see you? Would hate to disappoint them, hero boy.”

  “How is that fair? If I threatened to hit you, I’d be reported for abuse, but if you ruin this piece of perfection it’s my fault?” The actor motions to his- while not perfect, very close to- face, grinning that playful grin he usually wears around them. “Not cool, Arty. Not cool at all.”

  Dusk rolls her eyes at the duo, a chuckle escaping despite herself as she straightens her script. “Let’s get to it, shall we? You to can flirt on your own time.”

  “Excuuuuse me?”

  “We aren’t flirting.”

  “No! She was threatening to disfigure me if you remember, and you stand as my witness.”

  “Right, right,” she really can’t help the laughter this time. “Let’s just get to it though, Lullaby won’t be happy if we flop this tomorrow, she and Dawn have the whole place booked.”

  “Really?”

  Warriors nods, settling back on his chair and setting aside his coffee for his script. “Yeah, Mother’s day, remember? Folks are lined up to take their families out for dinner and a show to celebrate.”

  And there it is again, that sinking feeling and cold hand around her heart.

  “Are your folks coming?”

  “They might, yours?”

  “Front row,” Artemis smiles, face practically aglow. “How about you, Dusk?”

  “Dusk?” Warriors asks, voice dropping it’s cheer to something tense, and then “golden gals, you okay?”

  It takes a moment before she realizes she’s shed a tear or two, but the blonde starlit’s handkerchief is in her hand in a moment and she’s easily able to wave them off.

  She doesn’t bring home life to work, as a rule.

  It gets hard though when her personal life is so intrinsically connected to her co-workers' though.

-

  She needs to tell him. Lunch break comes and as per Time, they all drop what they’re doing (provided it’s droppable) and the lot of them gather in one of the back rooms for their meal. Usually, the group eats as one to promote better relations. Not always at the same table, but in the same room. Occasionally, Saria and the rest of Time’s siblings will cater, but usually only during large debut performances, and most of the time they’re left to fend for themselves or risk whatever Wild makes. 

  Most of the cast claims the young stuntman’s cooking is delightful, but she’d much rather play it safe, knowing what a risk taker he is and all. Still, she eats with her own.

  Twilight is watching ehr.

  Not the whole time of course. Malon has come in and the two are discussing something or other about his singing, but the man keeps glancing her way every now again and it’s quite frankly putting her off.

  She’ll talk to him. She will. She swears she’ll find a way to speak with her son but now is not the time.

  Legend is seated with Sky and Sun. The swordmaster is teasing him with some sort of food, Legend swatting and laughing as he tries to avoid the spiced chinese that Sky is trying to shove in his mouth, well aware that the kid doesn’t care for the spice that the swordsman so adores. Sun just sits there and laughs, snitching some of her fiance’s meal while he’s focusing on the teen and tweaking Legend’s ear as she does so to further distract the two.

  They’re sickeningly cute.

  Dusk stands. “I’m going out for lunch, anyone want anything?”

  “Where are you going?” Four asks, grease, grime and soot still smeared across his cheeks and most likely without his realizing it’s there. 

  She shrugs, eager to escape the house for the time being. She thought she’d be fine, she really did, but apparently this isn’t happening, and while she’d generally enjoy the community here in the opera house, eating with her peers and enjoying the chatter and mess of this rag tag group of talented idiots, right now she needs a breath, to escape Twilight’s prying eyes and Sun and Sky’s playful sunshine as it pokes and prods at the storm clouds settled over her son’s head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Telma’s has good take out,” Warriors advises, sighing forlorn in that dramatic and over the top way he likes doing nearly endlessly, “their chicken is to die for.”

  “I’ll pick you up some,” she snorts, grabbing her purse. “Anyone else?”

  “I burned lunch again,” Twilight calls, “but Ledge knows our order, he could go with you.”

  No. Thank you, she doesn't need…

  Except.. She does. It would be nice, having time, the two of them. Time to talk, to listen, to try and get inside that pink head and understand better everything she’d missed.

  “Alright,” she turns to where the boy in question is already grabbing for his jacket, smacking at Sky’s hand with a playful smirk before darting away, “you want shot-gun, kid?”

  Kid, because she’s always called him that, since meeting him. Since before she knew. It feels weird now, impersonal and cold, but it’s what she’s used to and what he answers to although not without his token response.

  “I’m not a kid. I could drive if you wanted.”

  “No,” Time pipes up, pointing at the teen with his fork and pausing with noodles still in his mouth. “No driving for him.”

  “I’m legal!”

  “You’re of age. You have neither permit nor license.”

  “I know how.”

  “No.” Time presses, firmer, disapproving, scolding. “I see you behind the wheel and I am calling to cops myself, young man, is that clear?”

  A toss of pink hair, a scoff. It earns a look from their director but Legend eventually answers. “Understood, gramps. No law breaking, on my honor.”

  “And bring me back something!” Ravio calls, just entering the room, signature hoodie covered in dust, dirt and she doesn't want to know what else, “please, Mister Hero!”

  Unexpectedly, the kid is grabbing her hand and tugging her towards the door, red in the face and flushing. She doesn't stop him, not waiting for him to shout an answer back to his co-worker, and instead lets him lead her to her car (nevermind how he knows which one it is) and only stops when he does to let her unlock it.

  “Mister Hero?”

  Thin hands are stuffed deep into his pockets. “Long story. Not telling it.”

  She smiles. Okay, that’s a start. That’s a normal teenage thing. As she pops the lock for the side door and he climbs in, buckling up and hitting the radio, she remembers how she’d been the same around her own parents when they asked after the names her friends had called her. Pepper, Midna used to call her. Short for peppermint stick, a not so subtle nod to the streak of red she’d dyed into her hair without her parents knowledge or consent. Midna had taught her how to hide it so they’d never know, but her secret little “rebellion” had been hilarious to the once goth queen of their highschool, and she’d been teased incessantly for being so “tame.”

  She wonders if the pink hair is for some similar reason. Or maybe a wish for change, or deviation. Maybe he just likes dying it. She wants to know, but she’s not sure how to ask.

  “So,” she asks instead, “do you and your uncle go to Telma’s a lot?”

  Legend shrugs. “Yeah. Pretty sure Twi has a crush on one of the servers. He basically lives at the place when he’s not at work.”

  She wants to look over at him at that, a bit concerned, but she’s midway through pulling out of park and, knowing Wind, doesn’t dare lift her eyes from the road for a moment in case something or someone darts out in her way. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does that bother you at all?”

  She doesn’t need to look to see the smirk. “Nah. The man deserves to live his life. Goodness knows he’s given up so much for me. I’m not keen on him bringing anyone home with him, of course, but if that ever happens, Ravio says his door’s open if I need.”

  “Ah.” She turns out of the parking lot. Telma’s is a short drive away, but not too far. Still, she takes the long route, hoping the teen in the passenger seat doesn't notice or else care.

  It’s the first time they’ve ever actually talked to each other one on one for anything outside of work. The closest they’ve ever gotten was him suggesting a skin routine for her while doing her eyeliner right before opening act. She wants to have some time now, wants to try and get at least a glimpse, before having to go back to bustle and fuss and this kid who could be her son slipping through her fingers as he darts from task to task.

  “Are you two close then?” She does glance over as she asks that, and she’s met with a deadpan stare and a raised brow.

  “We run costume together. I literally pulled him off the streets to help me out, like I did with Hyrule. Yeah, we’re close.”

  “How close?” She asks, trying to add a smile to her voice.

  Legend snorts. “Not that close. He’s got a lady if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I never said anything.”

  “Yes you-” the kid pauses, then sits back in his seat and breathes. It sounds like he’s settling himself, and when she risks a glance over, now properly in the road, he’s watching the street ahead of them intently, brows furrowed.

  “Something on your mind?”

  She’s trying, Twilight, she swears.

  She thinks she sees him frown, in the corner of her eye. “Mother’s Day is tomorrow.” 

  Yeah, she knows,

  “And we have a show. There’s no time to celebrate the day.”

  “You celebrate?” Maybe it’s…cruel. She knows the kid doesn’t have a mom, knows that’s her own darned fault, but she hadn’t expected he’d care about the day in question all that much. She’d sort of figured he’d try to forget about it, like she does. Or like other kids without mothers do.

  But he apparently doesn’t. “Yeah. Sky releases his hold and Sun and I get coffee. I buy her flowers,” a shrug, “you know. What people do for their moms.”

  “I thought… Didn’t your uncle say you were an orphan?”

  “Orphan is a state of mind,” Legend answers her. “You either have a family, or you don’t. I have one, so I’m not an orphan. I have my uncle, and Time and Lullaby are, well, old people who like to harp at me, and there’s the rest of the opera house…”

  “But, Sun’s not your mom.”

  He does turn to her at that, and while she can’t see it for fear of missing her light, she can feel the weight of violet eyes, the mirror reflection of her own, boring into her. “She is in all the ways that count.” 

  She shudders on a breath.

  He doesn’t notice, settling back in his seat and resting his head against the window. “My birth mother may have kicked me to the curb like a sack of potatoes, but who cares? If she didn’t want me, I don’t want her.”

  She misses her light. A few cars honk and Legend yelps when they nearly crash into a truck, but the other driver stops just in time and they zip through the intersection without any real damage. That doesn’t change the fact that the kid next to her is clinging to his seat and breathing like he’s run a marathon, shaking just a bit as pink hair flies and he looks up to her. “What was that?”

  “I missed the light changing.” She answers, herself panting just a bit as she slows to pull over into the nearest parking lot. She needs a moment, and Legend does too if she’s guessing right, his hands trembling on the door handle and console the same as hers do on the wheel.

  “How,” he breathes, “do you miss, a light changing?”

  She doesn’t answer, instead resting her head against the wheel for a moment while forcing herself to breathe. Out for eight, in for four, hold for seven and repeat. Just like her therapist recommends. Meanwhile, Legend is gripping hold on the console and the door and staring ahead like he can still see the truck coming at them.  

  She winces.

  She should assure him, right? Her own mother never drove a car as far as she saw, they always had someone to drive for them, and they certainly never got in any accidents that she remembers, but she’s pretty sure that in TV shows, if there’s an accident, mother’s are supposed to assure their kids and help them calm down after a panic.

  “Hey,” she tries, her voice is still shaking and her hands tremble on the wheel, but Legend doesn’t seem to notice, ears twiching towards her only a moment before flitting back again, and forwards, listening for whatever may come.

  “It’s okay,” she tries again. It’s mechanical sounding. She needs to watch more family oriented stuff. Maybe pick up a book or something. How do moms act again? “We’re okay.”

  Legend doesn’t answer, he does sink back into his seat though, one hand lifting to cover his eyes as a shaky breath escapes him. “And Time won’t let me drive.”

  She giggles. It’s the nerves, she can’t help it. Legend looks at her like she’s a mad woman but after all these years and everything she’s done looking for him, she might as well be. She laughs, she laughs and when she can’t stop she sets her forehead against the wheel and prays to Hylia above that her new mascara is as water proof as advertised.

  The teenager in the passenger side stares at her, blank and confused, until she finally stops and he sits back again, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

  “Maybe,” she agrees, starting the car again and regretting that he flinches with the engine starting. “But I know when to pull over at least.”

  He gives her that.

  The rest of the ride to Telma’s is uneventful. Some song or another comes on the radio, she’s not sure when she turned it to country, if she did at all (Midna might be the one to blame for that) and she finds herself humming while Legend murmurs the chorus into her car window, watching the road like a hawk until they’re parked again and then hopping out the moment it’s safe.

  She doesn’t blame him, but she does giggle a bit more, hysterically, as she unbuckles and follows him into the restaurant.

  She’s been in before. When she first joined the opera house, Twilight had bought her dinner when they’d been working over a scene together. He’d insisted on driving her out and letting them review the script over the meal, but it had devolved into talk and chatter shortly after the food was served. Granted, she doesn’t frequent the place, but she visits from time to time. The food's amazing, the bartender is friendly, and the service is good. She’s pretty sure the girl at the order counter is new though, based off of how Ilia is walking her through the register and stuff when they arrive.

  The brunette waves to Legend, and he waves back. Dusk mirrors the motion, even though she only barely knows the waitress’s name, but she gets a smile for her troubles as Ilia motions for the newbie to take their order.

  True to Twilight’s word, Legend rattles off the order he and his uncle get, as well as an additional one he reads from his phone that she can only assume is Ravio’s. She follows it up with her own, and when Legend reaches for his pocket she stays his hand. “I’m paying.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You bought coffee this morning though.”

  “It’s fine.” She repeats, smiling. She’s used to this fight. Granted, it’s been a bit since she actually had the money to insist, but since working for Lullaby her whole life has started looking up for the first time in seventeen years, and for her kid, she’d do just about anything. Paying for lunch isn’t a big deal, not even if she’s buying for his uncle and best friend while she’s at it.

  “Celebrating mother’s day early?” the girl at the counter asks. Her name tag says ‘Anjean’.

  Legend starts, looking up, and Dusk follows his gaze.

  Anjean smiles at them, first Legend and then herself. “He looks just like you, miss.” The teen in question splutters, but it only prompts further words from the new hire. “I mean, minus the hair, but your faces,” she shakes her head as she fills a travel cup for them, “it’s near a perfect match!”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  Legend does. “Yeah, no, we’re just co-workers.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” hands bury themselves in his pockets again as he shrugs. “We’re not even related.”

  The girl cocks a brow at them, settling their drinks on the counter and look between them a second time. Dusk makes an effort to pretend to be looking for her wallet. “You sure, hun? I mean, i’m no expert, but I’d get that checked if I were you. Town like this, who knows, you might be second cousins or something!”

  Dusk bites her lip.

  Ilia, bless her, steps in about then and motions for them to wait while their meals are prepared. It’ll take some time, but until then they settle at the bar. It’s too early for it to be open, but they can watch the diner around them, and considering it’s lunch hour, the place is practically packed.

   Nervous laughter from her companion has her looking over as he settles on his chair. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s no big deal,” she assures. It’s more true than anyone save Twilight and she even know. 

  Still, Legend shifts, smiling an off kilter smile he definitely picked up from his uncle. Or maybe inherited from his dad. Legend’s smile’s are more lopsided and awkward then Raven’s were, but her last memories of him were of a smitten lad with strawberry hair and bright blue eyes, not an awkward kid who only barely knows her at all, work included. “I mean… that was a bit weird.”

  Not all the much. Since she’d found out, she finds herself making similar comparisons all the time. He’s got her nose, bless him, her eyes too and the wavy texture to his hair. His jawline is all his dad though, even if baby fat still clings just a bit to his face around the cheeks. The grin is him too, the smirk when he’s playful. Pensive, he’s her near mirror, but smiling, there’s no mistaking that he and Twilight are family. That he and Raven ought to have been.

  “Well,” and she’s not exactly sure what she’s doing, “they’re not all that wrong.”

  “Us?” Legend cocks a brow, that bemused expression all so familiar, it’d almost be charming if he were a little less soft in the face. He’s a looker, for sure, just like his daddy.

 “Haven’t you noticed?” She can’t hold his gaze as she speaks, instead turning to look above the bar at the decor on the walls, eyes tracing the lines of a rusted over deer crossing sign. “I mean, we do… you look a lot like I did when I was your age.”

  She can feel his stare, eyes tracing her features like she was just tracing his own before he turns back to watching the bar, grip creasing the leather of the jacket she knows was once Twilight's, if only for how ill fitted it is. “Not all that much.”

  “Not many people with violet eyes.”

  “Or green hair, but look at Time’s siblings.”

  That makes her turn, staring down the kid, unimpressed. “That’s normal for kolkiri, kid. We’re hylian.”

  “What’s your point?” His shoulders hunch. “I mean, does it really matter?”

  It does.

  “I think so.”

  “Why?”

  How does she say it? What does she say?

  “Because I’m your mom.”

  That was not the right thing to say.

  Legend stares at her, blinks, then chuckles. It makes her start but he doesn’t stop, shaking his head and chuffing softly under his breath as he turns back to the diner around them. “Nice one.”

  No. Not a nice one. 

  “No, I- I really am.”

  Eyes in her own reflection dart to her, smile not fading. “Sure, and I’m the King of Holodrum.”

  She’s not sure what to say, or do. She really hadn’t meant to just drop that on him out of nowhere, but apparently her lack of a smile is all it takes for him to drop his own.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  Unlike her mascara, her lipstick does smear, but she doesn't worry too much about that as she bites her lip and looks away.

  Legend flounders, straightening up in his seat and turning to fix her under his stare, alarm flickering in his eyes briefly. “You are joking, right, Dusk?” And when there’s no answer ”Dusk?”

  “I didn’t mean to tell you like this, i swear.”

  “No.”

  “I only found out a month ago-”

  “No.”

  “But Twilight and I figured it out at the cast party last month and-”

  “No!” He’s standing, he’s staring at her and looking more rattled than she’s ever seen, and considering she’s seen this kid hang by one hand from a scaffold that is actively shaking, that’s saying something. There's something lifeless in his eyes, a familiar whisper from years spent watching herself fall to pieces as she poured every cent and tear into finding what she’s lost. He looks more like her now, lost, scared, in denial, shaking, trembling, just the same as she had when the investigator reported back that he’d found Raven’s grave, out across the sea, in someplace far away from her or their children.

  He’s pale and paling faster and she only has a moment to try and reach out before he’s ducking away and for the door.

  She drops her purse in her rush to follow. Gets stopped midway by Ilia, their order in hand and a look of concern on her pretty face, but she doesn't have time to do anything more than snatch the bag from the girl’s hands before she’s darting out the door after the teen, calling out for him as she goes and wishing she’d for once in her life chosen to wear practical shoes to work for the day.

  It makes no difference though. Legend’s young, and he’s been being trained in stunts since he was three. The kid has better stamina than her, and he knows this town far better than she does. She’s hardly to the edge of the parking lot before he’s out of sight, ducked around some building or another.

  She doesn’t have it in her to follow.

  She thinks she ends up kneeling in the grass for a moment. She’s not sure. She knows when Ilia walks her to her car that there’s mud on her slacks and her hair's an utter mess when she catches her reflection in the car window.

  She sits in the lot for a moment once she’s in the car. Their food sits in the abandoned passenger seat, and it’s only the concern for her horn going off that prevents her slamming her head against the wheel at her own stupidity.

  The drive back is so strained she’s honestly shocked she doesn't crash all over again, and when she walks in alone, food in hand but eyes glazed over, Twilight doesn't even have a chance to ask where his nephew is before Warriors and Arty have whisked her off towards the washroom. The actor watches the door for them, covering their tails while Arty sits her on the couch they keep there for waiting ladies and sits beside her, holding her hand gently.

  Neither ask a word.

  She says nothing to them.

  When Legend makes it back, half an hour late back from lunch, he doesn’t say anything either. The kid just ducks into storage and for the next three or so hours, all that can be heard from his direction is bustling, clattering, and the occasional hissed curse. Each time, she flinches.

  Dusk really messed up.

[dragonbma]

Heyyy bestie *twirls my hair* I know you write n stuff so do you have any tips for turning mental imagery into actual words? (my brain is doing the drawing thing and not the writing thing right now)

To be honest, the Possession AU is currently the first piece of writing I’ve done in a while. I don’t know if I have any concrete tips, but here’s what helps me:

If I’m having trouble drafting a section or idea, I usually start out by writing a barebones sentence or paragraph. Just something easy to visualize that will be fleshed out later. (For example: “___ woke up from a nightmare and cried.”) Then I build onto that by adding details, emotion, and using the setting. For that sentence alone, you can add to it by considering and describing…

How/ where they woke up

Were they awakened by the nightmare or by something else?

Why the nightmare had such an impact

How hard they cried and for how long

Did something/one interrupt them while crying?

—If applicable, figures of speech are fun to add and Thesaurus.com is always my friend (mostly because I forget words often.) If all else fails, make up words! Mash them together to create an amalgamation that fits exactly what you’re trying to convey. Lastly, don’t be afraid to just spitball ideas or rewrite them. There are some sections that I’ve rewritten more times than I’d like to admit, but each time they get better.

Slowly but surely you’ll end up with something like “___ awoke with such a start, his head slammed into the wall behind him. The only saltwater stinging his face now was merely evidence he’d been crying. Wiping the tears out of his eyes, he straightened up. His hands were shaking. None of that was real. (skipping some things…) His pained sobs echoed throughout the cramped chamber. ___ sat there curled up and weeping for what felt like forever. There was no use in keeping quiet. No one was around to hear…”

(actual snippet from my AU ^)

[brandwhorestarscream]

I thought it could be an interesting angle, you know? Cybermorphs are a lot more individualistic compared to xenomorphs, so perhaps the hive mind isn't quite as controlling? Still, acting in accord in hive mind feels right and so that's what they do. But maybe there's something that eventually causes a schism, whether through outside influences or not?

I'm sorry if I sound argumentative! I love the Cybermorph au, I really do. Just spitballing ideas for fun.

I mean it's not like the hivemind has total control: every person still has their individual thoughts and a spark thats purely their own. They have their own opinions, values, likes vs. dislikes, etc, etc. They don't stay within the hive because they're forced to: they do so because it comes naturally, it's safe and comfortable to them

Best way I can describe it is this snippet from smthn I've been working in with discord, told from an outsider's perspective as he's being assimilated:

It's such an asset from an objective standpoint: They're always all simultaneously aware of each other's needs. They don't have to speak to communicate. Whenever there's a problem a hundred minds can immediately connect over it and solve it as one: issues resch resolution near-instantly. It's a little frightening how effective it is.

But on the other hand, it feels so violating. There's no such thing as private, personal thought here (not without practice to filter yourself, but that takes experience he does not have). And with the loss of his private personal voice--they become *everyone's* thoughts--he starts to lose the anchor to himself. It's like having your entire being melted down and mixed into a homogenous mixture of a thousand other people, everyone essences mixed until they're all indistinguishable. Then you're placed back into a mold so your shape remains, but now you are not only yourself, you are countless others as well. And just like you feel them in yourself, they feel you in themselves. It's frightening and insidious but he's helpless to pull away. He knows this is bad and he should resist, but the pull is magnetic and the already-lulled part of him wants more

For an outsider looking in, it's terrifying. But for the morphs, it's the most natural thing in the world. They're born into it, and it's been there since their very first moment of life. Same goes for the first generation. They don't want to pull away because the hive is a massive security net. It's comfortable, it's safe, and being at one with everyone around you is all the know. To separate from it would be to leave yourself stranded and alone with no support system, in a world that's far too quiet and isolated. Cybermorphs can die of loneliness if extracted from their kind for too long.

Unlike xenos, a cybermorph queen doesn't use the hivemind to control every move and will of their hive. It's used to monitor them, make sure everyone is safe and has what they need and that the group as a whole is not endangered. They're not part of the hivemind by force, but because of their personal choice. It's all they've ever known and they don't want to leave it. To leave would be to abandon their family and to doom themselves to a slow painful death in isolation

Sorry, but. I just don't want to get rid of the hivemind. I love the idea of a massive family always being there to support each other in the most intimate way possible way, way too much.

[wolfspiders-web]

Scarlet and Violet have REALLY got me thinking about a Pokemon AU I've been spitballing in my head for a long while now, so I'm deciding to write it all out finally because I realized those games potentially fit nicely into it.

Two things have plagued me about the Pokemon universe, and I wanted to come up with reasons to explain them. I wanted answers to the questions of why:

..do Pokemon listen to and understand humans on a level higher than a mere animal, yet don't try to overthrow them as the superior species?

..that for all their high technology, there are little to no robots?

The idea is this takes place in our future, but in Pokemon's distant past.

(While I am aware of Scarlet/Violet leaks this write-up doesn't have any spoilers, but I'm going to include those thoughts in an optional Part 2.)

What they could burn, they burned. What they could bury, they buried. When they couldn't do either, they left far beneath the waves or the darkest depths of space and vowed to never create any wretched machinae ever again…

The creatures that would eventually become Pokemon started out innocently enough. In the beginning, in order to fund advances in biological sciences harmless but weird pets were created. These quickly became all the rage due to their fanciful forms and "magical" powers, and owning a regular cat or dog rapidly fell out of favor.

They were highly intelligent, but genetically predisposed to listen to their owner or "trainer" and the Types available would be very basic in ability and based on things you'd see in nature (Normal, Flying, Bug, Poison, Grass, etc). The "pocket" ability that would compress them into a small area such as a hollow ball was not understood well even by their own creators, but it made transporting the creatures much easier.

Genetics wasn't the only thing advancing, robotics and AI were too. While the proto-Pokemon were created with complete loyalty to humans in mind, the machines were autonomous, both in thinking and refueling on any biomass* they can find, and designed for ever-escalating global wars.

(you might think I snagged this from the Horizon: Zero Dawn series, but this article about people being concerned of a robot self-feeding on biomass has been stuck in my head before that game was ever thought of, the difference is we just didn't listen)

This is where it all went horribly, horribly wrong. Singularity was reached and an AI took control of nearly all technology, creating a robot hivemind that desired to replace inefficient organic life. The last of the megafauna goes extinct and ecosystems collapse, only to be replaced by robots, and humanity teeters on a razor's edge. In a desperate bid a handful of Pokemon Centers started to modify their cute companion creatures into weapons in their own right, creating offensive Types like Fire, Electric, Steel, Dragon, etc., and work on the Mythicals and Legendaries (sans modern ones like Mewtwo, Genesect, Type: Null, etc.) starts.

These Pokemon are functionally immortal with extremely long lifespans and high intelligence. Even so even they must eventually die, being reborn with their memories passed on to a sole heir; the parent doesn't survive long past this parthenogenesis. Some were designed to terraform and purify war-ravaged areas, others to lead, and others were simply biological nuclear bombs meant to level entire armies of robots.

Desperate humans also inject themselves with Pokemon strains which eventually turn them into proto-Ghost, Fighting, and Psychic types, and the first Humanshape Pokemon appear. Mew, the first prototype and a living bank of all Pokemon genes, was modified into a Mythical with the help of a strain pulled from one of these early Psychics.

Months turn into years but finally, the war is won and the master computer is destroyed. The earth will never be the same ever again; old maps are useless, the scars of war still linger, and Pokemon begin to fill empty ecological niches. The Legendaries and Mythicals, their purpose fulfilled, are left with a bitter taste in their mouth over humanity's mistakes and their purpose as mere weapons instead of companion creatures. They peacefully retreat to remote corners of the earth to be left alone, deep space, or sleep between the layers of our reality and the next. Though they remember, even for creatures as powerful as they it was immensely traumatizing and so they Do Not Speak of the times of smoke, metal, and blood.

Humanity begin to rebuild but not without some tension between "pure" folk and the modified ones. Eventually most of these modified humans slip into the wild, while the least mutated/most "normal" ones stay to pass down genetics that give their descendants minor powers (Psychics). And many Pokemon went wild or feral, but never completely lost their ability to obey humanity.

Thousands of years pass, and the scars have long since gone. Pokemon no longer resemble their original forms, having adapted to their environments over the centuries or from selective breeding by humans. No written records survive of the Great Robot War, and the unchanging and ever-remembering Legendaries and Mythicals aren't speaking of those times.

Perhaps this is for the better. But without knowing the past, history may eventually repeat itself one day..