#she is very devoted she does die in my au but it's fine she gets better and gets to protect the world and people she loves

[accursedrainbow]

gnawing on furniture

[daughter-of-melpomene]

TELL ME ALLLL ABOUT YOUR BG3 OCS!

AHHHHH, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING!! Okay, so as I said, I don’t have actual appearances for my babies since I don’t have the game, but I will happy give you some info about them.

I have five OCs currently planned:

Raven Waters (they/them), Wyll ship. Human bard, College of Lore subclass, with an urchin past. Grew up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate after being orphaned at a young age and became a decently well-known entertainer when they got older, performing at festivals and every tavern and inn in the area. Very cunning, sarcastic, and good at reading people, and is very unhappy about being snatched off the street only to have a worm stuck in their brain. Cares about people sort of in the way Astarion does - reluctantly and with no small amount of complaining but very deeply - and even though they don’t think much of Wyll at first because they don’t trust nobility or anyone wealthy, it doesn’t take long for them to become endeared by him. Also becomes absolute besties with Astarion because they literally laugh in his face when he tries to seduce them and once he gets over that they have fun judging people together. (There is also definitely an AU where Raven is dating both Wyll and Astarion, but they’re officially a Wyll ship.)

Amalal Quavein (he/they), Astarion ship. Seldarine drow and cleric of the Light Domain for the goddess Eilistrae with a sage past (he’s a huge bookworm when they can get his hands on some), and has been travelling around Faerun since they were just young, trying to find allies to assist in the Seldarine drows’ fight against Lolth and helping everyone he can along the way, before they get snatched up and taken to the nautiloid ship. He’s a total sweetheart who loves caring for people and fighting against tyrants and darker forces, but they’re also a bit socially stunted from being alone on the road for a lot of his life, which can lead people to think he’s naïve even when they aren’t. Astarion definitely thinks this at first, and thinks seducing Amalal will be easy, but really he’s just one of those people who always chooses kindness and doing the right thing because they want to make the world a better place and that’s the best way he knows how to do it. (They’re also asexual, which is very funny given Astarion’s whole seduction thing because not only is Amalal unfamiliar with seduction as a concept but he genuinely Does Not Feel Sexual Things, so they’re painfully oblivious to Astarion’s attempts the whole time.)

Nifara Reedwood (she/her), Gale ship. Strongheart halfling ranger, of the hunter subclass, with an outlander past who was raised in the wilderness and therefore has a very strong connection with nature. Travels all around Faerun hunting and tracking creatures from other realms, making it her personal mission to keep any kinds of invaders from attacking her realm and harming its nature. Also has a very strong bond with animals and is resistant to poison due to all the she’s spent in Faerun’s swamps. A complete and total badass, but is also kind of socially stunted due to all the time she’s spent alone on the road with only animals and the creatures she hunts. Brutally honest and has a quick temper, but also one that’s quick to calm back down if there’s no need for an actual fight, and although she’s slow to trust people would gladly kill and die for those she cares about and absolutely will not let them talk bad about themselves. (Very nearly smacks Gale for not believing he’s worth more than his magic and service to Mystra and calls him an idiot for it more than once, and then somehow that wanting him to think more of himself turns to catching feelings and she’s just like, “Ah, shit”. It’s fine, though, because Gale comes to love her too.)

Nisa Mournspire (they/she), Halsin ship. Mephistopheles tiefling paladin of the Oath of Devotion subclass, with a folk hero background. Adopted when they were a baby by a human couple, but never felt truly loved by them since she wasn’t their blood child, even if they’d given her their last name. Devoted themself to prayer from an early age as a way to feel some kind of belonging and purpose, and took her Oath and set out from their village to travel around and help people when she was only twenty years old. Gained a bit of a reputation around all of Faerun for their heroics, and eventually came to be known as The Horned Warrior. Taken from Baldur’s Gate by the Mindflayer’s goons when she stopped in for the night, and doesn’t hesitate to recruit Karlach and Lae’zel when they’re all on the beach, seeing defeating the Mindflayer and removing the parasites as yet another mission they’re committing to. Very warm and compassionate, able to make friends almost everywhere she goes, and fears almost nothing if it means helping others. A bit of a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love, but also isn’t against brief flings. Does sleep with Astarion once or twice (but they’re incredibly good about it and makes sure he feels good too, because she can tell he’s not used to that), but definitely takes a liking to Halsin very quickly after meeting him and spends a good amount of time staring at his biceps (which annoys Lae’zel incredibly because that should not be the focus right now).

Ellora Keyvaris (she/her), Karlach ship. High Elf half-elf wizard of the Conjuration School subclass with a noble background. Grew up in a wealthy family that was very devoted to maintaining appearances and always trotted her out to social events, but she was much more interested in magic and the study of it, more than happy to spend her time in her home’s library or at the local magical college learning conjuring spells from the professors she’d paid for private lessons. When she learned her family was planning to betroth her to an elf nobleman, she ran away to Baldur’s Gate, where she intended to live a quiet life and continue studying magic before she was kidnapped and infected with the parasite. Ellora is a very quiet and bookish person, but that doesn’t mean she’s timid; she has a sharp tongue and isn’t afraid to stand up for herself or others and say what she thinks. She struggles to connect to her companions at first, with the exception of Wyll since they were both raised among nobility, but she eventually makes genuine friends out of all of them, which means a lot to her because she’s never really had friends before. (She’s also a hopeless lesbian who falls in love at first sight with Karlach and thus is very sad when she can’t touch her, because she very much wants this large muscled lady to be able to pick her up.)

Anyways, yeah, those are my BG3 babies!! Thanks so much for asking about them, and if you have any more questions about any of them feel free to ask!!

Again tagging some of my other BG3 moots: @hiddenqveendom, @endless-oc-creations, @astarionbae.

[meatriarchived]

stopping mid-xmassy draft cause dire danny intruded for no good reason and at this point im like Okay fine let me jot this down before it escapes me for another month-

but in dire danny au's if he was picked up alone and everyone else got out? guys just like 'okay good you're all safe and alive then. society was already deeming me a potential lost cause anyways so frankly me being stuck here make zero difference happy ya'll are out there able to live'

in ones where hes at least w/ maria its like, dumbass is so fucking stubborn hes so mouthy so venom-laced that he's constantly getting his shit rocked to a mm of deaths door practically, hes constantly disrespecting mama luda frankly, hes probably knocked her over during any escape attempts and gotten beat to shit for it. maria's likely tried pleading with him to stop like she does lee in nosy and for a long while dannys too pissed to listen honestly and idk how johnnys patience with him lasts remotely as long but maybe its just maria's pleading with him not to kill him, to leave him alone, that maybe just helps the idiot ( even if just slightly ) not Die That Day who really knows.

like. danny i dont think ever really gets to a point in his dire au's where, like maria, theres a sense of pure devotion really? least not as strong. but its more of the acceptance on his part that yeah my hands are stained and theres no going back from this theres no re-entering normal society so may as well just embrace the fact that i indeed was a lost cause rather than try fighting it. yknow.

should be noted also if he is alongside maria / lee / whoever of the friendgroup then really, his devotion to them all still remains VERY firmly intact if not Worse because its truly just no bars held anymore he Will Fucking Kill without question for any of them. cant exactly say theres necessarily that same level of devotion / loyalty in terms of the family as a unit, but can see him if anything just like. vague hand gesture comradery in a sense towards johnny / the family where yeah he will kill your ass for them, will pull victims off if theyre being overpowered etc etc.

[theevilthatismokke]

hey there! i wondered what are your thoughts on akane and how the destroying no.1 yorishiro would affect him? because i had been thinking of how it might've been the final blow considering how much he dodged death😭

Hey there yourself!

Sorry for the late reply... my original response was going to be longer but it got deleted...

Anyway... you see, I think it could go either way- I can easily see Akane living after the destruction of No. 1's yorishiro, but I could just as easily see him dying. Both possibilities have their merit.

If it was just about the fact that Akane's been severely injuried I... honestly wouldn't bat an eye at it. After all, he survived getting stabbed through the chest:

And between the Severance and the chapter where he, Teru and Nene go out, I think only one day passed, two at most.

He looks fine physically, so I don't think he requires much time to heal when he's in his supernatural form. So, if he died after the destruction of No. 1's yorishiro seal, as a consequence of his wounds, it would have to be done in less than a day.

(On a side note, I don't know if he still has his clock with him. Last we saw it, Hakubo took it away from him. But then, Natsuhiko knocked him out and took him to his boundary. So... does Hakubo still have Akane's clock? Did Natsuhiko take it from him? If Natsuhiko took it from him, did he keep it or did he give it back to Akane's unconscious self? If Akane doesn't have his clock with him anymore, does that mean he's stuck in his supernatural form, or does it automatically turn him into human again? Much to think about.)

That said, I think we should address the elephant in the room:

We don't know why Akane was choosen by Kako and Mirai to be one of them.

Was he destined to die young like Nene is? What role does he have in this whole Seven Mysteries business?

I ask this not only due to chapter's 95 reveal about Nene's death being linked to the Seven Mysteries, but also because... well, as I see it, Akane and Nene share a few similarities and story beats.

Akane, like Nene did in the beginning, has constantly tried to change himself into what he believes would be his crush's ideal lover.

And, although he's can be very rude and prickly, I believe Akane is a rather kind boy at his core. His rigid, and perhaps, unforgiving sense of justice, added to the rage he feels towards supernaturals because he belives them to be uncaring and apathetic to life, make me think he's a person who cares a lot.

Even his patience and persistence towards Aoi (and even Teru!) can mirror Nene's own devotion towards Hanako at times, moreso when we consider how similar Aoi and Hanako are (and also Teru).

Akane and Nene have significant similarities and we should pay attention to that, is all I'm saying.

But back to the question at hand, whether Akane 'dies' or not, I don't think it would be last we would see of him, or even the end permanently. This is a manga that deals a lot with the afterlife and ghosts, after all.

So, I think it would be more interesting to think where Akane's character would be headed, if he did 'die' or was in danger of dying.

There are a few ways I could see it going, but basically, I think Aoi could be involved in further developments.

If... Akane died, or was in danger of dying an early death, I think Aoi would try to bring him back.

Like, it could almost be a repeat of the Orpheus/Eurydice parallel we got with them in previous chapters, but this time, Aoi would take the role of Orpheus, and Akane, the role of Eurydice.

It... wouldn't surprise me if Aidairo did that role reversal, keeping in mind that their full names are Akane Aoi and Aoi Akane. Their names reflecting their situation... would be such an Aidairo thing to do, they're cheeky like that.

Besides, Aoi has often been compared to Hanako, so I wouldn't be surprised if she... went to some extremes to save Akane. Even in AUs she's often compared to the supernaturals, a human with similar dispositions.

I mean... in the Ghost AU she became a fairy and part of the staff, in the Monster Nursery Kamome she was a monster, she's been compared more than once to Hanako and supernarturals in general... The parallels are there, it's only a question if they 'll be explored further and if they'll become more literal or not.

Also, there's this from the latest AU:

The fear is real, but at least they look cute

So, it could lead to Aoi whether becoming, or simply behaving like Hanako and the other Seven Mysteries (you know, going horrifying extremes to save her beloved).

This... would tie, I think, into what believe Akane's future development could be headed. Which is, his strict belief that all supernaturals are evil and don't value life would be challenged in the form of the person he loves most.

Other than that... I don't know, maybe Akane could turn into a full supernatural this time... maybe Teru will be the one to become a supernatural. Teru will probably be involved with Akane's development too.

Another possibility is the use of the Clock Keepers' time powers to... rewind time, in case something happens to Akane.

In short, I... don't think you need to worry too much about Akane? Whether he dies or not, I'm pretty sure we're still gonna see plenty of him and... even if he does die, there's a chance it won't be permanent. At very least, I expect him and Aoi to remain together, regardless of what happens.

Besides, I think that, given Aidairo's definition of JSHK as a "heartwarming toilet comedy", I don't think Akane will have a sad end.

(somehow I also talked a lot about what I think can happen to Aoi but... the characters in this story are so connected I don't think I could talk where someone's character arc is headed without talking about another character)

And... I don't think we'll see the Clock Keepers until chapter 100. So... I think you can stay relaxed about Akane's fate until next year's...March?

We'll probably see Akane and Aoi in this month's chapter, though, judging by the promo drawing and chapter number.

I hope I managed to answer you question...

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[sovonight]

(sith exile au)

recruit

potential

approval

rejection

truth (end)

✧ — ✧

"The academy has felt your absence for too long," Sion says. "As have I."

"I have had other business, Darth Sio—"

"No need for formalities, Cela," Sion says. "We're alone."

Jaq can barely conceal his look of disgust. Sure, they're alone—if Jaq and the soldiers stationed in the landing bay don't count as people. Cela doesn't look like she approves of what Sion said either, but she also looks like she's been through this dance with him before.

"Revan is waiting for us," Cela says, choosing not to acknowledge Sion's words. "Shall we—"

"I've brought you a gift," Sion says. "It waits for you in the hold of the ship."

"I'll receive it later—"

"You'll receive it now, before it perishes," Sion says. He stalks around her, observing her. "Revan was right… you've allowed yourself to grow weak. How unlike you."

Cela's lips are thin with annoyance, but she doesn't say another word. She leaves for Sion's ship. Jaq follows, itching to insult Sion with her behind the guy's back, but Cela stops him with a hand on his chest.

"I'll go alone," Cela says. Her hand lingers on his chest for just a moment, before she pulls away. "Show him in. Revan will grow impatient."

"He can show himself in," Jaq says, but Cela gives him a minute shake of her head: this is an order. Reluctantly, Jaq watches her go, clinging to the sight of her form until she disappears into the depths of the ship.

"So eager to chase after your master," Sion comments, from closer than he had been. "Your devotion marks you more slave than apprentice."

Jaq grimaces. He had felt Sion's presence creeping up behind him—he just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

"It's called loyalty," Jaq says. "And at least I chose my master. I doubt you even know what chains you."

He's shooting blindly, here, but his words find their target when Sion growls.

"You know nothing, fool," Sion says, his cracked lips twisting into a snarl, "Least of all your master. She barred you from following her; that should tell you as much."

"I respect her boundaries," Jaq says, "Unlike some."

"And so you remain ignorant," Sion says. "I have fought to know her. I have proven my strength. And when the time comes, I will be the one to claim her—to save her."

Save her? Jaq has to laugh—and he does.

"All she needs saving from is your attention," Jaq says. "Do yourself a favor, and—"

"You're still here," says Cela, coming up beside them. Jaq turns to address her, as does Sion, but Jaq beats him to the punch.

"Lord Sion here wanted to wait for you," Jaq says. "I said Revan wouldn't like it, but he insisted on it."

He expects the growl before he even hears it. "You—"

"I see," Cela says, interjecting before Sion can respond. "How considerate."

Jaq watches out of the corner of his eye as Sion quickly bites the rest of his words back. Predictable.

✧ — ✧

Hours after Sion has left the base once more, Jaq finds himself with Cela in the quiet of her quarters at dusk.

"He was fun," Jaq says. "I can see why you keep him around."

Cela sighs.

"Revan sees a use for him, and I know better than to question her."

She's rearranging her folded robes for the fourth time. Sion must really bother her.

"That gift," Jaq says, "Did it at least make up for the visit?"

He expects a simple answer, one to dismiss Sion's shadow from their day, but Cela turns away, the edge of her expression gone cold.

"No," she says. "…I refused it."

✧ — ✧

Cela's late.

Jaq has never known her to be late, not without prior warning. He checks his comm: on, and still functional. He checks the corridor outside the training room: occupied, but lacking her presence.

He takes the turbolift, passing every floor above, until at last he arrives at hers, and enters her quarters. He calls her name, only to find the edge of her familiar robes spilled from the dark shadow of her room, in which she has—

"No!" Jaq cries, rushing to her side. He can see no marks upon her, or signs of struggle around her, but she's collapsed, crumpled to the floor like a discarded cloak. Beyond her outstretched hand lays a fallen holocron, only partially activated; he tears his eyes away from it, frustrated that in such a moment he would notice something so useless.

Her face is too pale, and her body too cold, but he holds her in his arms, pressing his fingers to her neck to feel her pulse. He stills his breath, waits, and—

—Nothing. Or he isn't sure. He has never not been sure.

"Don't die on me now, Cela." His voice trembles; he hates it.

He just needs to find her pulse. He'd do anything for it. Anything, to hear her voice, to have her look upon him again, to see her give him that secretive smile once more—

A pull, light and almost inquisitive, acts at the edge of his awareness. And he understands.

"Go ahead," Jaq says. "I can take it."

✧ — ✧

Cela exists in the most pleasant dream.

She's held close to the beat of a steady heart, with kisses gifted upon her hair as she rests her head, quietly, in the crook between a familiar neck and shoulder. When he rests his head against hers, swaying them closer, she melts, nestling in and losing herself in his familiar scent.

"Jaq....” But as soon as she voices his name, he fades away.

She wakes, to the cold familiarity of her quarters. His scent is gone, his touch, his low chuckle, until she can find an excuse to seek them out once more.

But then, when she sits up, she finds the object of her dreams at her bedside.

Jaq's head and shoulders slump over her blankets, one of his arms folded under his cheek, and the other reaching out beyond it, so that his hand may hold hers. She looks over the edge of the bed—he's on his knees, and had likely fallen asleep that way.

She can't remember why he's here.

"Jaq?" She says.

"Mmph," Jaq says. "Five more minutes." He adjusts his makeshift arm pillow, shifts, and finds the softness of her thigh. Her face goes hot.

"Jaq," she says, nudging his shoulder. "Wake up."

A furrow forms in his brow, deepening with each shake she gives him until—

"What? What's so important that I—!" He opens his eyes complaining—but when he sees her, all such words fall away. "Cela. You're back with me."

"Yes, I'm here—ah!" He embraces her, gathering her in close in his arms as he squeezes her tight. It's more stifling than her dream, but not altogether unpleasant. The relief radiating from him washes over her, warming her from within.

Never before did she think that dreams could cross into reality. "What warrants this?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that," Jaq says. She tries not to miss his warmth too obviously as he turns away, picking something hitherto concealed by his form up from the floor. He shows it to her: a holocron.

Yes, Cela remembers—she'd gone access it, a typically trivial task, but seeing as its only partially activated, she must have failed. If she had to guess, she'd overestimated her remaining strength, and she'd pushed forth more Force energy than she had left.

But that means she shouldn't feel better now than she did the day before. She looks to Jaq; he's waiting patiently for her answer, but also not particularly waiting at all, just relieved to see her. She must have passed out. And in that desperate state, only one thing would have revived her.

"…Cela?" Jaq prompts. As her silence stretches on, Jaq's expression only grows puzzled. She doesn't want that—she wants him to say that he's figured it out. That he'd managed to deduce her secret, one kept so well that only a select few Sith Lords know it. She wants him to tell her that, he had to work quickly, but he brought her a straggler from the force cages where they hold their Jedi prisoner.

But there are no Jedi left, and her secret is yet kept. There is only him.

"Oh," Jaq says, as she stays silent longer still, "I get it. I know you prefer healing, but there wasn't enough time. I'd never been on the other end of it, but I—"

"You have to go," Cela says.

"What? No!" Jaq lets the holocron drop to the side, where it rocks once upon her bed and hits the wall by her blankets. She'd scold him, but he has eyes for nothing but her, and a concern she hadn't noticed earlier etched deep into his features. "You've been out for too long—I'm not leaving you on your own."

For a moment, she imagines it: letting him stay, and care for her, as she recovers. But she cannot trust the emptiness at her core to act as her heart does and spare him.

"If you value your life, you will," Cela says. She closes shut her heart; it will only lead them to ruin. "This is an order: leave me, now."

"I won't. I'm here to help you. You might not like it, but you can't always save yourself," Jaq says, his emotion building with every word, into a storm she no longer recognizes. "I don't know what's eating away at you, Cela, but I want to! I can't help if you don't let me in. I'd almost lost—you'd nearly died before you'd let me—"

Cela pushes him away, and though Jaq fights it, she uses the very Force energy she'd stolen from him to hold him by the throat. She staggers out of bed, still weak, but determined.

"Let you save me? You were always meant to be an instrument of my will, nothing more. Did you think that I returned your feelings? Your dreams, your desires? You are nothing to me but a failure of an apprentice. Leave."

She throws him out of her quarters, but she’s too weak to make it any more than a push that sends him stumbling out of her doorway. Before she can command the doors to close shut on his image, Jaq catches his breath, and she hears the last of his words.

“Fine,” Jaq says. "Then I'm no longer yours."

[recurring-polynya]

hello ms. polynya! if you are still taking drabble requests and are in the mood for it, I would love to see more of the mall AU (yes, THAT mall AU lmao). bonus points for more omnidirectional horny teenage pining, because that first mall AU drabble nearly made me cry laughing and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. p.s. re: that fanfic author meme—my favorite story of yours is hold on, hold on! closely followed by call me back when the war is over :)

(cont’d)

mall au anon again, realizing I forgot to send like half of what I wanted to request because I got too excited (durr hurr): would love the ensemble cast/lieutenant goon squad because I really enjoy how you riff off of these characters, and/or renji and izuru being dumb friends and also wrangling their Big Crushes. no pressure to fill this though, thanks for being wonderful and generous 💖

I saved this one ‘til last so I would have something to look forward to. I love the Mall Goths AU, it is my greatest pleasure in life to write a bunch of undead shonen badasses as dorky teens trying to ask their crushes to prom.

Thank you to @alopexplasma, who came up with the name of Renji's car. I compulsively write Renji driving a Camaro in every AU I can conceivably shoehorn it into, and somehow, the incredibly obvious name never occurred to me. I am a moron.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

(if you haven’t read the original, read Ch 7 first, either site will do)

💘     💌     💘

Renji folded his hands on his knees and leaned forward, regarding Izuru very, very seriously. “Look, as you know, I don’t have any money, or... connections, or… well, anything, really, but you know that if you got cancer or were in a car wreck or something, any organs that I have two of, like kidneys or lungs? One of them would be yours, man. Bone marrow? I have so much bone marrow, and you can have as much of it as you want.”

“You know,” Momo pointed out, setting two paper cups down on the table, “if you marry Rukia someday, you will be absolutely rolling in it. I brought you coffee.”

“I assume she would want a pre-nup,” Renji replied very philosophically. “Which I respect.”

Izuru rolled his eyes and picked up his coffee. Just before taking a sip, he remembered. “Is this just the sludge that collects at the bottom of the airpot again?”

“Could be,” Momo tried to sound innocent.

“Oh, boy, my favorite!” Renji announced. “It’s so good, you just have to put, like, six creamers in. You want some creamers, Izuru?”

“I’ll pass,” Izuru said, pushing the coffee away. “Why can’t we do this in the game store, again?”

“Because Rukia hangs out at the game store!”

Instead, they were in the Barnes and Noble, where Momo worked in the cafe. Nothing personal to Momo, but Izuru hated the Barnes and Noble. It felt so bland and corporate, and smelled like new carpet, and he always felt like he should buy something if he was going to hang out there (not that he ever did). Besides, the couch was comfier at the game store.

“Just do this for him,” Momo implored, while Renji dug through the creamers, trying to find six that matched.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” Izuru explained. “It’s that I think it’s a bad idea. You have been friends with Rukia since, what, fifth grade?”

“Third grade.”

“Third grade. Right. You sit next to her in class. You eat lunch with her. You talk to her all the time. Just say, ‘hey, Rukia, I really like you, will you go to prom with me?’ There’s no way she can look into your dumb puppy eyes and say no. Tell him, Momo.”

“Izuru’s certainly right about the puppy eyes.”

Renji sighed. “You don’t know Rukia like I do. Her family doesn’t do affection at all, and talking about feelings really scares her. If I ask her point blank like that, she’ll get defensive, and she won’t speak to me for a month, and she won’t go to prom at all, and then I’ll have to third-wheel Ikkaku and Yumichika.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Izuru pointed out. “You could…” he waved a hand vaguely. “You could take Momo.”

Momo shook her head. “Nanao and the Kotetsu sisters and I agreed to go together as gal pals,” she explained. “You could be a gal pal with us, I suppose, but only if you’re willing to coordinate outfits. You do look good in aqua.”

“Thanks,” Renji replied glumly. “Hey, I thought Rangiku was in your group, too?”

“Oh, she got a date.”

Izuru sniffed, pretending to be disinterested. If Shuuhei had finally gotten up the courage to ask Rangiku, then good for him.

“That upperclassman with the silver hair, Gin, asked her. He seems a little creepy to me, but she really likes him, and he’s friends with Aizen-sempai, so he must be a decent guy.”

Kira’s hands tightened on his knees. “She’s not going with Shuuhei?”

Renji gave him a look.

“Shuuhei says prom is lame and he’s not going,” Momo shrugged.

“I see,” Izuru frowned. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“He is wrong!” Renji protested. “Prom rocks. You wear fancy outfits and buy flowers for the person you like and there’s some insane theme, like Arabian Nights or Haunted Halloween Castle. You slow dance to ‘Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing’ by Aerosmith, and when it’s over you go get pancakes. What part of that isn’t awesome?”

“This year’s theme is ‘Lifetimes Past,’” Momo dryly informed him.

“Exactly. In any case, I have dreamed of taking Rukia to prom for years, are you going to help me write her a love letter or not?”

Izuru groaned. “I don’t know why Rukia gets such crummy grades, because she’s actually very smart. She is definitely going to be able to tell that you didn’t write this.”

“I know that! You think I don’t know how smart she is? Look, I just want you to write it all nice in Kira-speak, and then I’ll translate it into dumbass. Just help me get my thoughts together. You know I don’t word good, but I really think that writing it out and giving her a chance to process it on her own is the best way to go about this.”

Momo turned sad eyes on Izuru, not that his resolve wasn’t already crumbling. Abarai was a goon and a bonehead, but his devotion to his long-time best friend was tooth-rottingly sweet. Izuru would feel like a villain in a Christmas special if he said no.

“Fine. Fine. But I want you to help me get the Festiva running again and I get to approve whatever it is you’re planning on wearing to prom. It better have sleeves, for one thing.”

“Deal!” Renji replied, his face splitting into a huge grin.

Izuru turned to a clean page in his writing notebook and licked the tip of his pen. “Dear Rukia,” he narrated.

“No! Don’t put her name!”

“Don’t put her name?”

“No names. I have seen a lot of teen movies, and notes like these always end up in the wrong hands. Rukia would die if something like that happened. Or if her brother found it, he would straight up murder me and then I wouldn’t get to go to prom.”

Izuru blinked at him. “Fine. No names.” He tapped his pen against the page. “ ‘We have been friends for a long time, and I feel that the time has come for me to make a clean breast of it. You are the most important person in my life. I am utterly besotten--”

“Er, hey, um, Izuru.” The tips of Renji’s ears were very pink. “Not to say that this isn’t, um, true, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Do you want to go to prom? JUST AS FRIENDS’ Maybe that part could be all in caps? or underlined? We could put in some little boxes that she could just check off ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and hand it back to me?”

Izuru raised one eyebrow. “But you don’t want to go ‘just as friends.’”

“Well, that’s true, yes, but this is Rukia we’re talking about, so you kinda have to ease her into things.”

Izuru regarded Renji with lidded eyes. “You can’t even ask her to prom as friends? You’re such a coward.”

“I’m not a coward,” Renji returned, but his voice was very small.

“You’re sixteen and I do not like to throw the word ‘love’ around, but it’s very obvious that you love Rukia, and I refuse to help you ask her to the prom as friends. You don’t have to admit everything, but you have to admit something. It’s go big or go home.”

“Okay,” Renji grumbled.

“I think he’s right,” Momo said, patting Renji’s hand. “She must wonder how you feel about her from time to time. If you insist on framing it ‘as friends’, she may actually view that as a rejection of the possibility of anything romantic ever happening between the two of you.”

Renji wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say anything.

“Ahem,” Izuru cleared his throat. “Let’s put in some compliments. What are some things you like about Rukia?”

“Things he liked about Rukia” was one of Renji’s very favorite subjects, and he perked up right away. “She’s cool,” he announced. “She’s cool as hell. Write that down.”

“I think you’re cool as hell,” Izuru wrote down reluctantly. This is not your love letter, he reminded himself. No one is even going to know you had anything to do with this.

“Your hair smells really good and you’re the most creative person I know,” Renji dictated. “You have incredibly sexy biceps.”

“Renji.”

“What? She does!”

“Fine, fine. That’s probably enough compliments, we need to keep this to one page. Um, what do you regard as your primary ‘ship symbolism?”

“My what now?”

“You know. When you think about Rukia and yourself, what metaphor springs to mind? Sun and moon? Sea and sky? King and lionheart?”

Renji looked utterly perplexed.

“Momo, help me out. How do you see you and Aizen-sempai?” “Doctor and Companion,” Momo answered immediately.

Izuru made a face. “Right.”

Renji’s face was screwed up in hard thought. Izuru could practically smell circuitry frying. “Rukia is like… a star?” he finally hazarded.

“A star is good!” Momo encouraged.

“And you are…?” Izuru prompted. “The moon? The sky? A different star?”

“A Camaro?” Renji guessed. “I’m loud and I have a powerful engine.”

“How are you even in AP Literature?” Izuru groaned.

“Well, what’s your dominant simile or whatever with Shuuhei?” Renji demanded.

“Poet and warrior,” Izuru snapped back testily.

“Which one of you is the warrior?” Momo asked, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, you both work on the school newspaper.”

“Shuuhei takes tae kwon do!” Izuru insisted.

“Well, why don’t you just write in whatever you’re gonna say for the poet-warrior thing, since you’ve obviously already put a lotta thought into it,” Renji suggested. “I’ll polish up my star/sportscar metaphor and drop it in when I copy it over.”

Izuru did not like leaving the keystone of a love confession in the hands of a man who thought manual transmissions were romantic, but he had to go on shift down at the food court in half an hour. He had to keep this moving. “Fine,” he bit off. “‘You are my muse. Your strength of body and spirit inspire poetry in me. My soul sings when I am with you. If only I had your bravery, this admission would be much easier. Instead, I am sending you this shy missive to ask, from the depths of my tender heart: Will you go to the prom with me?’ Done.”

“Oh, that was so romantic,” Momo sighed. “Izuru, you should write a romance novel.”

“Never,” Izuru replied.

Renji was making a Renji face.

“You hate it.”

“It was just… pretty flowery.”

“Rewrite it however you want. ‘My soul revs at 5000 rpm for you, right before I drop my rusty bumper in your brother’s driveway again.’”

“Don’t trash talk Zabimaro!”

“I would never trash talk Zabimaro, I was trash talking the metaphorical Camaro that is your love for Rukia.” Izuru ripped the page out of his notebook and handed it over. “Here you go. I gotta go to work. Beef n’ Cheddars don’t assemble themselves.”

Renji studied the page for a moment. “Thanks, Izuru. You won’t regret this.”

“I already regret it. Good luck. I still think you should just talk to her.”

“Well, I think you should ask Shuuhei!” Renji barked out suddenly. “I know you want to! You can go to Denny’s with us afterward!”

Izuru flashed him a pitying look. “Thank you for your concern, but I happen to share the opinion that prom is lame and I have no plans to attend.”

💘     💌     💘

When Izuru walked into the gaming store the next day, Ikkaku and Iba were sitting at the front table, assembling decks of Magic cards.

“The girls took over the back,” Ikkaku grumbled bitterly as he contemplated a Thicket Basilisk.

“Is Renji here?” Izuru asked. “He said he was coming today.”

“Haven’t seen him,” Iba grunted. “Your friend Hinamori is, though.”

Izuru had been trying to maintain his usual heavy veneer of Not Caring About Abarai’s Wretched Love Life, but secretly, he was dying to know how the note had gone over. Renji had said he was going to give it to Rukia after school, and then ghost off to soccer practice so she had time to think it over. Izuru thought this was the dumbest idea he had ever heard, apart from every other plan Renji had ever had.

There certainly was a lot of giggling coming from the back of the store. Rangiku was holding court on the couch, Momo and Rukia on either side of her. On the coffee table, half a dozen magazines featuring girls in sparkly dresses were scattered among the usual copies of Dragon and Wizard.

“I can’t decide if I want to go for a one-shoulder gown, or something completely strapless,” Rangiku was sighing. “Rukia, you have good shoulders, what are you thinking?”

Rukia mumbled something about lacking the necessary structural support for a sleeveless gown.

“You’d be surprised! It just needs to fit tightly enough!”

“You should come shopping with us on Saturday, Rukia!” Momo offered brightly. “You really don’t know what’s going to look good until you try it on.”

“Oh…” Rukia stammered. “My brother said he would buy me a dress. He said it’s important that I reflect well on the family.”

“Fortunately, your brother has killer taste,” Rangiku shrugged. “I would let him buy me all the dresses he wanted to.” She smiled her bright, friendly smile. “You could still come shopping, though, get some ideas of what you like! We could take some pictures to show him. I’m sure he takes input.”

Izuru had met Rukia’s brother. The man most certainly did not take input.

“Plus, it’ll just be fun to have you along!” Momo encouraged. “You have a great sense of style, I’d love to have your opinions!”

The portents looked auspicious, but Izuru needed positive confirmation. “Are you planning to go to the prom, Rukia?” he asked, flinging himself down in the ancient, creaky recliner. “I would have thought you were too cool for that.”

Two pink spots appeared on Rukia’s cheeks. “Yeah, I’m going, I guess.”

“You are not going to believe this, Izuru!” Rangiku gasped breathlessly. “But our Renji asked her to go with him!”

“Surely not!” Izuru scoffed, a pleasant feeling of satisfaction filling his chest.

“It’s just as friends!” Rukia protested. “And of course I don’t care about prom, but it means a lot to him, so…” she made a frustrated shrug.

Just.

As.

Friends.

Izuru shot a glare of horrified disbelief at Momo, who shrugged helplessly.

As if on cue, Renji’s mop of bright red hair poked around the edge of the Warhammer display. The couch backed to the front of the store, so Izuru could see him, but the girls couldn’t. Renji pointed emphatically at Rukia, and then stuck out his tongue victoriously, making a “hang loose” sign with his hand.

“I need to talk to you!” Izuru announced loudly, jumping up, grabbing Renji by front of his shirt, and hauling him into the aisle with all the ceramic dragon figurines. “You moron!” he hissed.

“I just did what you said!” Renji defended, holding up his hands.

“No, you didn’t! Did you even give her the note?”

“I did not. I thought about it, and I decided you were right. I talked to her with my actual voice. I told her I really wanted to go to prom with her, and she made a real cute face and then she said yes. Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Izuru squeezed his eyes shut. “But you’re going as friends.”

“Yeah, well, we are friends, and I’m okay with that. You know, it was the right move, anyway. The reason I was late is because her brother cornered me after work and lectured me for half an hour.”

“Byakuya went into the Foot Locker?” Izuru frowned, trying to picture it.

“Of course not. He would never go into a Foot Locker. He waited outside.”

Izuru admittedly hadn’t taken Rukia’s intense, overprotective brother into account, back when they were writing the note, even though he remembered Renji bringing it up. “Well, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

“Yeah, me too. I offered to wax his car, just immediately. That knocked him off his game a little.” Renji made a thoughtful face. “He, uh… was appreciative, actually. I guess Rukia’s been wanting to go to prom and pretending she doesn’t, and he thought I picked up on it and asked her because I’m a good friend.”

Izuru stared at Renji blankly. “What?”

Renji shook his head. “I can’t explain it. Kuchiki brains are weird. Anyway, he said I don’t have to wax his car, but he wants me to come over to dinner so he can pre-screen my table manners and I have to meet their scary grandfather.” Renji scratched his head. “I wonder if the old man has a car I could wax.”

Izuru let out a big sigh. “Well, I’m glad it worked out. Sort of. Even if you wasted a very good love letter that I worked very hard on.”

“You spent ten minutes on it, tops, and it did not go to waste.”

Izuru frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t you feel like… like it helps to talk that stuff out? To put your feelings into words and write them down and look at them? I mean, I know it helped me, I was just thinking that maybe…”

“Give it up, Abarai,” Izuru mumbled. Whenever anything remotely good happened to Renji, he got really optimistic that all his friends could repeat his successes. When Izuru was in the right mood, it struck him as sort of sweet, but right now, it was just irritating.

Renji stuffed his hands in his pockets and huffed. “Look. Talking to Rukia was… it was easier than I thought. T’be honest, I pretty much expected her to turn me down cold.” He gave a wistful little smile. “We’ll just see how it goes, y’know? Might even be able to work up the nerve to ask her for a slow dance.”

Izuru shook his head. “You’re hopeless, Abarai.”

“Yeah, well, takes one to know one.”

“We are not the same,” Izuru informed him pointedly. “I am a dreamer who pines for that which is out of his reach. You’re just a dumbass who can’t grab at the thing an inch in front of him.”

Renji gave one of his big, open shrugs. “Say what you want about me, but I have grabbed. It’s hard to judge distance when you’re too close to it. I’m just saying that I don’t think your dreamy moon poet is as far off as you think.”

“Why do you always listen to me exactly enough to misunderstand everything I say?” Izuru griped.

“I am a dumbass, you had me there.” He stood up straighter. “But Rukia is not a dumbass and I would like to go say hello to her before she thinks we’re making out back here in the sparkly dragon grotto like Ikkaku and Yumichika.”

“I heard that!” Ikkaku’s voice echoed through the store.

“Matsumoto is trying to convince her to get a strapless dress,” Izuru explained.

“Really? I’m in favor of that,” Renji grinned, his eyebrows raising. “She’s got the shoulders for it.”

“Go,” Izuru sighed, slapping his friend on the back.

As Izuru turned to follow Renji to the back sitting area, he saw Shuuhei hovering in the store’s main aisle. He was wearing a Tool t-shirt over a ratty grey henley with the elbows blown out. His hair looked like he put a bunch of gel in it and then immediately gone to a gymnastics class. There was a ‘69’ sharpied on his cheek. As usually, Izuru couldn’t believe how cool the guy was.

“Uh, hey, Izuru,” Shuuhei said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Hey,” Izuru replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wondered if you were in today.”

Usually, Shuuhei would reply with some joke about his loud co-worker, Mashiro, but instead, his fingers curled and uncurled around a piece of paper he was holding.

Hmm, Izuru thought absently. Shuuhei must use the same kind of notebook that I do.

Shuuhei’s eyes darted to the side, and then back to Izuru. “Hey, um, someone slipped a note in my locker today, but they didn’t sign it. I don’t, uh, want to be forward or anything, but I think… this might be your handwriting?”

The floor dropped away from Izuru’s feet. He was had been transported to the Elemental Plane of Mortification. His corporeal body had ceased to exist.

Suddenly, behind Shuuhei’s back, Renji and Momo appeared in the doorway to the back room, flashing huge grins and four enthusiastic thumbs up.

Izuru was going to kill them.

[a-student-out-of-time]

Akane’s parents

Here’s my family for Akane

Next profile! Owari Kaoru Age: 53 Birthday: February 14th Height: 5’11 Appearance: A handsome tall man with black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. He wears a dark brown suit with a red tie. Personality and background: Kaoru grew up with where his parents cheat on each other a lot and had a large number siblings. He disassociated with his dad after finding how he forced himself on many women. He tries to focus on his future and try to live a stable life. However he has gotten his parents traits on compulsively feel attracted to women and can be very greedy. His favorite kind of women are the dark skinned women, they’re the most desirable. Though the only person he truly loves was Rumiko, who did help him become more stable enough. He had a stable life as good business man. However Rumiko’s death brought out his worse traits. He didn’t know to handle the job and honestly had zero desire to care for his kids. He just grabs any woman who can be good mothers for the kids and leave them with her, then continue to do whatever he wants. He felt bad, he hoped that Narumi would snap and kill all of his family (including himself) so they won’t have to deal with this misery, but she killed herself instead. He just stopped caring at this point. He just sleeps with any woman he sees. He only realized that he of a horrible husband and dad he is when the parade started. Which is sad that he’ll die when he tries to redeem himself. While he maybe a fuck boy, but he’s very strict when it comes to consensual sex and taught his about it after hitting puberty. Family: Unnamed parents, unnamed siblings, Rumiko (1st wife), unnamed sister in law, Akane (1st daughter), Hinata (1st son), Yota (2nd son), Narumi (2nd wife), Itsumi (2nd daughter), Hideki (3rd son), Mei (3rd daughter), Honoka (3rd wife), Teruko (4th daughter), Jubei (4th son) and Haruto (5th son). Likes: Pretty woman and fine wine. Dislikes: Nonconsensual sex and his dad.

Here’s a profile! Owari Rumiko née Fujimoto Age: 25 Birthday: September 4th Height: 5’4 Appearance: She has long straight dark brown hair, brown eyes and tan skin. She usually wears a white shirt and red shorts. Personality and background: Rumiko’s a hardworking, serious and well adjusted, but also can be upbeat and fun. Especially since she’s hoping to become a gymnast in the Olympics one day. Rumiko grew up a normal life from a family of athletes. However she tends to find herself hooking up with the worst kind of men. She hoped that she could complete her happy life with her kids… sadly she never got to enjoy that life as she and her twin sister died in a car crash one tragic night. Family: Unnamed sister, Kaoru (husband), Akane (daughter), Hinata (son) and Yota (son). Likes: Hard work and hot man Dislikes: Cheaters and manipulation. Status: Deceased

Another profile! Owari Narumi (I’m not giving her maiden name, because that’s not relevant, while Rumiko’s is as Hinata changed it her surname to break off ties as a Owari.) Age: 36 Birthday: April 1st Height: 5’8 Appearance: She has long dark blue hair, amber eyes and brown skin. She usually wears a light blue blouse and tan shorts. Personality and background: Narumi’s described to be a woman under a lot of stress and panics a lot when there’s chaos, but somehow manages to get things done. She is loyal devoted mother and wife trying to provide for her family, even loving the kids from her husband’s previous wife. However she’s emotionally unstable with depression and low confidence. Those traits leads her into making impulsive decisions. As the stress of caring for six children affected her emotionally. When Narumi found out that Kaoru cheated on her. She felt like that she wanted to snap, but looked into her kids’ faces and decided to raise them with her co wife. It doesn’t help since her family never cared for her and she was bullied a lot. Family: Unnamed parents, Kaoru (husband), Akane (step daughter), Hinata (step son), Yota (step son), Itsumi (daughter), Hideki (son), Mei (daughter), Honoka (co-wife), Teruko (step daughter), Haruto and Jubei (step sons) Likes: Her kids (including her step kids) and gardening. Dislikes: Being manipulated. Status: Alive

Honoka O’Brain Age: 29 Birthday: May 12th Height: 5’3 Appearance: She has curly dark green hair pulled into low pigtails, red eyes and brown skin. She wears a orange halter top and brown skirt. Personality and background: Honoka’s a laid back and chill woman that that likes to go with the flow. She has a off hand approach in parenting, but does draw the line when things go too far with getting her kids hurt. When she’s mad, she’s terrified forced to not be messed with. She grew up on America with a upbringing similar to Kaoru’s. A lot of siblings around but from more of a polygamous parents who were loving and were off hand on parenting. So she didn’t mind having children from her husband’s previous wives and sharing him with other women. She’s also laidback on her modesty and doesn’t care about people looking at her body. Not really noticing her choices weren’t healthy. She’s a vegetarian who only eats fish as meat, but doesn’t mind serving meats to her kids if they want some. Her mother’s Japanese and her dad’s a mixture other races. Family: Multiple unnamed parents, multiple unnamed siblings, Kaoru (husband), Akane (step daughter), Hinata (step son), Yota (step son), Narumi (co wife), Itsumi (step daughter), Hideki (step son), Mei (step daughter), Teruko (daughter), Jubei (son) and Haruto (son). Likes: Open mindedness and deep conversations. Dislikes: Bigotry and no confidence. Status: Alive

Originally, Narumi killed herself in NWPM, but I thought it would be fun for you to use her in your au. Though there’s no sprites for her. Narumi’s however heterosexual, is only fine with Honoka’s presence as she helps her raise the kids, unlike Toko’s moms. As they do get along. Narumi’s a bit like Mikan and Honoka’s a bit like Angie. Kaoru’s a slimy man slut with charisma.

(Part 1)

[the-blue-phantom]

Please activate your Farseer brain again and share some headcanons for Fitz and Burrich

Okay, I have no idea if you’re asking for my modern au specifically because that’s when I said my farseer brain was activated or if you meant headcanons for canon, but I’m going to bank on modern au so I hope that’s fine with you! I think at least a fair amount will be more generally applicable, though, just in case you aren’t.

I’m a big fan of Burrich and Fitz’s dynamic, especially because they do have a father/son relationship but there’s also tension there that gets in the way. But for my ideal dynamic with them there are two traits: 1. “Fitz, I love you deeply and you remind me a lot of myself. But I also hate myself and this will affect our relationship for years to come. 2. That joke that goes “Have you ever kissed a guy?” “Of course” He then failed to elaborate.

I’ll try and keep this relatively organized but it’ll bounce around. Assume its all for the modern au and if anything seems applicable to canon, it probably is.

At no point ever in raising Fitz does Burrich ever look up how to raise a kid

Chivalry: Burrich, children are are like animals, right? Burrich: yes, in a cosmic sense, but not completely Chivalry: well I trust you to raise my son

Burrich does the best he can but sir you should google things

Altho the idea of burrich at a parenting class is hilarious to me

Honestly, I am obsessed with his and Chivalry’s relationship

Fellas, is it gay to leave your girlfriend for a man, because you want to devote yourself fully to him and also you tear up when talking about what a great man he is

Anyway, Burrich is telling Fitz about Chivalry while looking through a photo album and its like “Fitz, your father knew me better than any man had before” *turns page* “And here’s us getting drunk at a party when we were 22″

In my modern au, Chivalry doesn’t die, but I don’t think him and Fitz would have much of a father/son relationship. Maybe more uncle/nephew

Now I’m remembering how Fitz called Patience his mom. Fitz and his mom, his dad (burrich) and his father (chivalry)

I do wonder what Fitz and Burrich’s relationship would be like if the Wit wasn’t there or if the stigma was gone. I wonder about that a lot.

Burrich is an old fashioned guy and by that I mean he has a flip phone he keeps in a belt holster and drives a shitty old pickup that could and should be replaced

He has a wallet filled with pictures of Fitz and also his animals

You know, I think Fitz should have had his hair braided at least once. I think Burrich would be good at braiding, if that isn’t already canon.

I think any gifts Burrich gives Fitz are highly practical. New coat, new shoes, new hat, here are some gloves and socks I knitted with wool I got from the sheep we raised

My personal belief that Burrich is very very handy with fabric crafts for a variety of reasons

lmao Burrich in a quilting circle. he wouldn’t, but its funny to picture

I think if Fitz had had a more normal childhood he’d have done those drawings and projects kids do of their families except its primarily Burrich and the animals

Fitz first got to drive a car at age 10 because they were doing fence maintenance in the pasture and Burrich plopped him in the front seat and said “listen, inch the truck forward when I tell you to” and you know it didn’t go terribly

this is the only reason fitz doesn’t end up in a ditch the first time he tries to drive

Fitz, trying to get his license: “So I need my birth certificate, can you give it to me” Burrich: “Sure its right--hold on” Fitz: “Did you lose it?” Burrich: “Let me call the main house” Fitz: “You lost it didn’t you” Burrich: “You didn’t come with one”

Burrich at parent teacher conferences or helping Fitz with homework is funny to me, too. *insert mr incrediblt math is math scene here*

Fitz in canon never has to explain his familial relations to anyone because everyone already knows who he is but in this au its like “Oh that’s my dad, who isn’t my biological dad, but my biological dad dipped when I was born because my mom--who isn’t my biological mom--was upset because he cheated on her and she was upset because she couldn’t have kids but she’s fine now and she’s my mom and they’re all back and then there’s my uncles--” and the person is like uh huh sure that all definitely makes sense

Burrich is hot, does that make him a dilf?

I think Fitz is one of those kids that would get super super into something for a few months and know all about it and so Burrich is like “is this about your transformers?” and Fitz is like NO i’m talking about power rangers they’re totally different

Fitz but he has modern day teen romance drama

Fitz: Burrich, Molly didn’t like my instagram post, does that mean she hates me? :((( Burrich: what’s instagram

Man this isn’t a headcanon or anything but I’m just thinking about how baller the witness stones thing was with galen. and the end of book 2? when burrich was begging for fitz to stay alive and then it switches to relief over him actually being alive? gets me man

I wonder how much more he would have gone up to bat for fitz if there wasn’t the whole royalty or politics thing. like he goes up to bat for fitz all the time and defends him but sometimes he has to be careful with politics. what would he have been like if he didn’t have those constraints

I could keep going, but its already getting long so I’m going to stop there. Hope this was what you wanted!

[darkfalcon-z]

Here’s my idea for Journey to the West modern AU:

- Sanzang is a historian. He is a very religious Buddhist and follows a lot of the rules the monks do. He would become a monk, but you see he is very, very passionate about finding and  some missing  texts - he believes finding those would help the would through better understanding of Buddha’s thought) so he devotes his full time to academic research.

- One day he hears about some rock carvings that had been discovered (and dated at roughly 500 years old) on the mountain not that far away from university, where he works. Because those rock carvings are related to what he’s researching he decided to take a trip out of the city on his day of, to see them.

- The mountain is some nature preservation area and not that many people goes on the path that leads near those carvings mentioned above. Now Sanzang has had a nice time up to this point, he’s not super fit, but he takes care of himself and he can manage a little trek and some minor climbing just fine. He plans to meditate for a while once he gets to the place and then examine the carvings.

- You probably see where this is going.

- Once he reads the carved inscription an earthquake starts. Ground splits, boulders starts to fly, Sanzang is she he’s going to die.

- He’s save from his doom and taken to safety by a talking monkey. Because of course he is.

- The monkey is kowtowing to him and seems to want something from him, but he has no idea what, because it uses a strange language (which later turns out to be an archaic version of a dialect he does not speak).

- Sanzang freaks out and flees.

- Monkey has to follow him, because A) once the original Buddha seal, that kept him under the mountain had been dispelled, the second seal had been activated - this is of course the golden band, which in this au works as a power limiter (but possibly has some other surprises waiting for him) -  he’s best bet to get rid of it is to follow the guy, who dispelled the first seal; B) he is indebted to the guy, who freed him and he wants to repay him

- Sansang is attacked be some demons on his way home, but Monkey arrive in time to save him again.

- Sanzang is even more freaked out (because he can tell his attackers weren’t human) and then there’s talking monkey again this time unleashing violence, and he runs away again.

- Monkey however follows him home.

- Sanzang gets home and monkey is there.

- By this time Sanzang’s brain has already some time to sort things and he accepts this is his life now.

- Though honestly he sees the monkey, or whatever this creature actually is, who seems lost and in need of help and suddenly so small. And he’s an ever bleeding hear and just has to help.

- Also Sanzang’s initial hypothesis as to what Monkey is, is that he’s some kind of experimental creature, who have escaped from the lab, most likely a genetically modified human or cross between monkey and human (which just seems more likely to be an alien or even belonging an undiscovered species - that one is number 2 on his list of monkey’s hypothetical origins). He thinks it’s terrible, not the Monkey’s existence per say, but the fact that someone supposedly did this to him and his hypothetical family. He finds it so unfair.

- The fact that Monkey eats like he never had food before in his life and that he’s fascinated by everything he sees in Sanzang’s home, even a light switch, only makes this idea more credible (Sanzang would have very hurtful words with whoever is responsible for this and hope they got arrest and sentenced according).

- It’s clear that Monkey is alone and has nowhere to go. Sanzang also thinks he might be a child because he’s small and because of his general fascination with all the reality around him. So he can’t bring himself to chase Monkey away and he’s afraid that if takes Monkey to the police they’ll put him in some kind of cage and send him somewhere to be a test subject (as he supposes) again. He cannon bear to think to do it to anyone, let alone a kid.

- So Sanzang decides to take Monkey in. Starting with a bath. Because you know Monkey’s still dirty from spending 500 years under a mountain. Wukong is overjoyed at bubbles and he immediately wants to make as much as possible. 

- The misunderstandings are gradually cleared later on, when Monkey learns modern language)

- Monkey is in not very good psychological state after being imprisoned for so long without contact with anyone. He frequently falls back to the his natural monkey behaviour instead of learned human behaviour. He needs to put conscious effort to act in a a human way. He snarls and make rude gestures and the depictions of Buddha and some gods of choice. He tones that down once he learns Sanzang is devoted Buddhist. He also has nightmares and refuses to sleep anywhere but curled up next to Sanzang.

- Wukong can access some of his magical powers and gradually get more and more. He can shape shift into things that are the same size as he is easily, but shapeshifting into something much bigger or smaller takes a huge toll on him. He shapeashifts into a human child when there are humans around, other than Sanzang. They make up some story as to why Sanzang has to take care of him.

- other limitations are: he can use Jingu Bang, but making it bigger than an average staff is draining as well as shrinking it back and forth. Flying is also draining and he can’t go very far, it’s more feasible to make several big jumps. Making copies of himself is a no, he can try to magic his hair into something, but the more and the bigger or more complex things he wants to make the less likely he will succeed and basically any power he has is less effective and less reliable. His eyes work fine, he’s still unkillable and the super strength is there and of course so are his fighting skills. He’s still a force to be reckoned with in a direct combat

- Sanzang is like the mom from Wolf Children. He has multiple tabs open on how to ensure monkey welfare and how to take care for traumatized children.

- Sanzang is a very nice guy in this au, not very brave mind you, but he can be very determined for the sake of other people. He helps Wukong to adjust.

- Wukong and Sanzang each think he’s the one who takes care of the other, Wukong because he guards Sanzag from danger and Sanzang because of everything.

- Eventually the start to travel to complete the scriptures, Monkey had demons to fight and of course they meet Pigsy, Sandy and the Dragon Horse.

- I have not actually come up with any solid plot ideas because I was caught up with euphoria of modern day Dad Sanzang takes care of somewhat feral, but very-delighted-to-exploreithe-new-reality monkey son.

[whirlybirdwhat]

in the kingdom of desert flowers

a birthday fic for @onepiecehcs based off of their nami/vivi knight au!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! <33333!

Read On Ao3 For better formatting!

Nami meets her queen on a hot summer day in a kingdom not her own. The queen is in disguise of course, and Nami is dressed not as the knight she is but a commoner, but she still thinks Vivi is the most beautiful woman she’s ever met.

Because, who else could this woman be but Nefertari Vivi, Queen of the flowered desert of Alabasta?

Vivi smiles at her, hidden under a brown cloak that just barely shades her hair into something black instead of blue, and thanks her for paying for her drink. Nami smiles, says it’s no trouble at all even as her fellow knights in disguise gape at her (for she’s spending extra money) and introduces herself.

Nami, she says, truthful.

Wednesday, Vivi says, untruthful, but it’s fine.

Nami thinks she’s in love with the way she tilts her head anyway.

-

A conversation at the bar and Vivi is traveling with them. She’s Wednesday to them, Miss Wednesday to Sanji, and a love held deep in the heart for Nami. Vivi is still hiding, of course, and doesn’t tell them why she’s traveling with them beyond to get to the next town safely, but Nami knows the truth.

(There’s sand in her bag, spilling out and gleaming gold – living sand, sand from the Crocodile Man.)

She’s on the run, but not away from something – towards something, some chance at hope. Vivi loves her kingdom, or so Nami’s heard from the rumor mill spilling from Alabasta’s borders, so Nami knows she’s looking for something – some chance at victory.

Nami wants to be that chance – that guarantee. She wants her family, her little of band of knights to be it – to save a kingdom again, but not just any kingdom this time.

Vivi’s kingdom.

Selfishly, she admits, she really just wants to see Vivi smile so gracefully at her again.

(She’s not a pirate in this life, selfishness isn’t a code she gleefully lives by any more. But her King, Luffy, Emperor of the Rising Sun, has always had a thing about freedom, so Nami’s free to love as fully and as little as she wants.

And oh, does she love Vivi fully.)

-

There is a bounty hunter, three towns over, one that gets past Zoro’s swords and Usopp’s eyes and Franky’s shiny battle hull. He attacks Vivi with something explosive and Luffy’s knocked out to the left and Nami’s too late to lunge forward but—

But.

Vivi’s cowl whips off her head, showing a gleaming blue to the world, as she dashes forward underneath the hunter’s arm, her arm lashing out with precision. From her fingers peacock wings stretch out in deadly blades, cutting around the man’s stomach.

He’s down by the time Vivi spins him around, uncurling her whip from his waist.

Oh, Nami thinks.

The Queen of Alabasta has never surrendered, or so the rumors say.

Vivi smiles at her, and places a hand on the circlet over her head, a remnant of a rule she supposedly doesn’t have. “Oops.”

The squares empty, cleared out when the first bomb flung forward, so no one’s here to see Vivi in all her glory, save for the Straw Hat band of wandering knights (and one King.)

She’s beautiful like this, bold and brave and daring, so Nami just laughs so happily at her sudden bashfulness.

“That’s okay, my Queen,” She says, tempted to wink but it’s too soon. “We all knew anyway.”

The smile Vivi gives her back, trusting and bright, is more than Nami will ever need to be happy.

-

Vivi, identity out in the open, smiles more freely now, more happily. She laughs at the antics of Nami’s crewmates, and leans into Nami’s armored shoulder in the night. Vivi’s dressed in the drabbest clothing she can find, save for the circlet around her head, but she wears everything like it’s the finest silk.

She’s beautiful, when she’s free and not worried about her sand-swallowed country when she’s dancing around a campfire.

Nami wishes it could be like this forever.

But the Straw Hats do not hesitate or falter in their steps. They agreed to save Alabasta, and so to Alabasta they travel.

They have been to the West before. Nami hopes they like it.

-

She explains to Vivi who the Straw Hats are, past rumors and legends of tyrant defeating myths. She explains how Luffy is the King of the Kingdom of the East Sea, how he’s going to be the King of the Entire Sea (The Pirate King) one day, simply so he can travel anywhere he wants, so he can be free in the freest sense. She explains how she and the others are his loyal knights, his advisors, his treasure, and how she would give her life to him if he asked it.

(She does not mention how Vivi has that same power over her.)

She tells Vivi of how they found the stairway to the sky, how they have friends in the Darkest Depths of the ocean; how Nami knows three other princesses but none as beautiful as Vivi and how their home when they are not on the road, on an adventure, is a floating palace of the sea.

(The Thousand Sunny, home to souls as bright as the sun, the zenith of the East Sea.)

Vivi laughs when tells her how they convinced Franky to don his shining metal armor, how Zoro, the first knight of Luffy’s kingdom, is lost anywhere, how they once met a man who could make centaurs out of ordinary folk.  Vivi opens her mouth in awe when Nami tells her how they took Robin back from the very kingdom they are seeking to take, declared war with only a crew of six; how they have taken back kingdoms and defeated warlords and tyrants and emperors, all for a friend.

Vivi cries when Nami tells her they will do the same for her.

(She cries when Nami tells her they will take her with them if she wants.)

(Vivi’s selfless but Nami’s selfish, and maybe that’s why she doesn’t beg her to stay anyway.)

-

A week before Alabasta, Nami takes Vivi to the secret cove where she has been once before. It’s a five-minute walk from where their party rests on the beach, but enough to give them some semblance of privacy.

Nami kisses her, there, head tilted gently to the side. It is not chaste but nor it is desperate – if Nami was the romantic sort (which she is, despite her protests) she would called it devoted.

Funny, how much she loves this girl.

Her eyes are closed when they kiss but when she opens them, Vivi is looking at her with love.

They kiss again and Nami doesn’t tell her how much she loves her, but she thinks Vivi knows it anyway.

(They hold hands on the way back to the group in the morning, and Nami thinks by the smile on her crew’s faces they know it too.)

-

The edge of Alabasta is sparse desert mixed with small plants. An hour in, it will be desert entirely, so they stop for the day, to start traveling at night, when it is a cool paradise amidst the desert heat. Vivi knows the land like she knows her people, and will guide them through safely.

They send letters out at the outpost, to Luffy’s brother who is running the kingdom in his absence and to the other which they may meet in Alabasta. They send letters to Cocoyashi, with pictures of a beautiful blue haired princess, and to the traveling places of the Baratie and Water 7.

The Straw Hats travel without thought of the past but they are figureheads of the kingdom. They do not forget those left behind.

(Nami shows Vivi the letters she writes Nojiko, hoping she’ll know that the letters she will send her love will be twice as long.)

-

Alabasta is hot and beautiful and dangerous all at once. The Kingdom of the Desert Flowers, Kingdom of the Swallowing Dunes, Kingdom of Blooming Sands – no epithet could describe Alabasta in its entirety, how one could take a step forward and be drowned in sand without ever knowing, or be bit by a red snake hiding in the desert blossoms.

The heat burns her armor during the day and the coolness sinks through it at night. They stop in a town and Vivi shows her the armors of her own country, light weight and breathable and not meant for avoiding sturdy attacks or blocking blades like Nami’s armor is.

She likes it, likes the blue clothes that come with it, and vows to become faster, faster than she has ever been before, to use this armor to its fullest so she won’t drown in desert heat. For now, she and her crew dress in Alabastian fabrics, and hope it will be enough. Their armor is attached to the caravan they bring along, ready to face battle once they reach the palace.

Vivi laughs as Nami twirls in the silks and offers her hand in dance.  She sings along to market songs, Vivi stumbling in her words after her, but it doesn’t matter. Its happy, this desert song, more so when Nami overhears that this particular dance is for newlyweds.

They travel onward, keeping to Alabasta’s sole river, and celebrate in the night.

-

In the middle of the desert is a city which rain has not blessed for three years.  In that city lies a warlord, a man made of drifting sand, who has stolen the life from Alabasta, forcing its flowers to shrivel and die.  In the city are a thousand people and a bomb, a secret rune that no one else will ever see.

In this city is a war for the people, and now, its victors in gleaming familiar armor.

Aluburna is Vivi’s home and now, her battleground.

Nami does not see her king disappear to take down a man without solid form, or the rest of her crew disappearing to fight their own battles.

Her eyes are on Vivi and the way she screams for her people to stop, for just one moment, for forever, and Nami’s heart hurts.

It is then, dressed in fabric and gleaming gold, that Nami thunders.

She has torn down gods and tyrants before. She will harness that power and burn the universe for this woman.

Nami wields lightning and devotion like a sword and cuts the spirit of war in half.

The soldiers and rebels grow quiet, the leaders of the enemy forces gaping in awe at this tempest knight, and rain – glorious rain- falls down on desert flowers for the first time in years.

Vivi’s face as cool water splashes against it is beautiful. Nami can’t tell if its only rain, or tears as well, but Vivi is happy for the storm Nami wrought upon her kingdom, and –

Well.

Nami loves her.

(A kingdom is saved that day, and a tyrant bleeds into sand as the sun sinks below the horizon. There are sacrifices, losses, but Nami holds Vivi in her arms as they stare out over a sea of sand and kisses her so softly that only the song of victoryrings into the night.

Alabasta blooms once more.

And like Nami’s love, it’s as gorgeous as the sun.)

-

Vivi waves them off with an X carved into her wrist in black, a promise and a declaration that she is treasured by this King’s Crew, and they wave back, ink on their own wrists.

There are tears in everyone’s eyes, and Zoro suggests they kidnap Vivi.

Everybody wants to – they know Vivi wants to as well.

They all know why they can’t.

(Vivi’s heart belongs to three things, and three things alone. Her country, her family, and her love.

Nami knows Vivi will always be hers no matter where they are, but the desert of Alabasta and its people knows no such mercy.

Vivi must stay. But -)

“Hey Captain?” Nami asks, rubbing a hand on her wrist and her promise. “What do you say to a visit?”

By the answering grin on Luffy’s face, Nami knows she will hold her love again soon.

-

The Straw Hats sneak into the city at the dead of night, for no other reason than it is fun too, but Nami is the only one to reach the castle.

She’s silent in the night despite her armor. People do not call her Thief for no reason after all. And now she has a heart to steal.

Dressed in Alabastian armor again, she won’t fail.

She climbs the tower, creeping over vines and flowers that crawl up sandy walls. Alabasta is a miracle in earthen tones, and if Nami did not like the way the wind blew so much, she thinks she would stay.

Soon, she reaches the top, where Vivi lies.

Nami taps on the window.

(A surprise, she hopes.)

It only takes one tap before Vivi is looking at her, smiling, leaning out to place a kiss on her cheek.

She’s speechless as Vivi laughs so prettily.

“I saw you coming, love. I know your habits.”

And, well, who is Nami to argue that?

Vivi jumps out the window next to her, already clad in traveling clothes still fit for a princess, and laughs again at Nami’s face. Another kiss graces her, before Vivi begins to steal away from her own kingdom.

“Let’s go!”

And really – what can Nami do but agree with her?

-

They end up in a valley of flowers between desert cliffs, blooming in colors of red and orange and white, pink dotting the hillsides, as pretty as a sunset over the sea. They walk besides each other, Vivi on her horse, Carue, and Nami, armored, walking through delicate thorns.

Every step is a little more peaceful. Every step Nami reveres this queen. Ever step Vivi looks at this knight, her knight, and feels something warm and bright fill her heart.

Wednesday, Vivi had introduced herself to Nami, and Nami had fallen in love.

Vivi! Nami had cried as she brought the storm to Vivi’s desert, and Vivi had known, then more than ever, that she loved her.

There are stolen moments like this, when they walk amongst the flowers, and Nami is so very good at stealing things despite her title of honorable knight.

Nami steals this time with Vivi so often it feels like they never part.

(A permanent place on her wrist and in her heart, a love no god could ever break apart.)

The sunlight, warm and gentle, graces Vivi’s cheeks as Nami helps her from Carue, calloused hands fitting in place with calloused hands.

Flowers spread by Vivi’s feet, so beautiful, but there’s time to look at them later. For now, the freckles on Nami’s cheek brighten with her smile, the flow of her hair cascading down her back, and –

Vivi has seen portraits and queens and princesses across the world.

None compare to Nami’s glow.

A hand, ungloved and unarmored, caresses Vivi’s cheek then, as a pink, thornless rose is place behind her ear.

“I love you,” Nami says, and kisses her with her hands cupped around Vivi’s face.

I love you, says the feel of her lips, I love you, says the x on her rest, I love you, says the way Nami’s head rests on Vivi’s circlet when they pause for breath, I love you, Nami says with her entire being.

“I love you,” Vivi says back, not like a queen but like the woman Nami fell in love with, and hopes the burning passion in her heart gets across.

By the way they both fall into the flowers, petals exploding around them as Nami’s armor carefully avoids bruising her, Vivi thinks it does.

(I love you, a queen says to the knight of a foreign country, and it would be a tragedy if it was any one but them.)

[lostinthewinterwood]

Gen Freeform Exchange 2020

Hey friend!

I’m looking forward to whatever you’re going to make for me—if you want to take what was in my sign-up and run with it, go right ahead!  But if you’re looking for more inspiration/ideas, keep right on reading.

If you’re not my assigned person, and are instead a generous person looking at this letter for treating purposes, I’d be happy to get treats in any medium.

General DNW

Rape/non/dub-con; non-canonical major character death; heavy angst; hurt no comfort; graphic depictions of deliberate and methodical self-harm*; graphic depictions of suicide; anything E rated; gore; heavy gender dysphoria; grimdark; complete downer endings; character bashing; incest; cringe comedy; a/b/o; mpreg; full setting AUs (canon-divergence is fine); graphic eye trauma; graphic and/or permanent hand trauma (unless the setting can provide a more-or-less fully functional prosthetic or equivalent); issuefic; unrequested identity headcanons.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. however, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

 General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun, especially as a fix-it.  I have a general preference for Peggy Sue style (aka, an older character getting put back in their younger body at an earlier point in the timeline) over the character’s physical body stepping back in time, but either one is good.

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

All of my requests have way too many tags to relist them here, but if you’re at a loss for what to do, anything in a given request’s tags is obviously fair game; don’t feel bound by them either, since I’m definitely interested in more things than just those which appear in the tag requests.

 Fandom-specific prompts and DNWs

 Mother of Learning

Fandom-specific DNW: physical parental abuse within the Kazinski family, significant exaggeration of canonical emotional neglect/abuse/general family dysfunction, any implication or presence of romantic and/or sexual Zach/Zorian, either Raynie or the rest of her tribe being portrayed as Absolutely Right And Entirely Justified in all of their actions

 Neoluma-Manu Iljatir & Zach Noveda

Solo: Zach Noveda

Zach Noveda & Zorian Kazinski

Fanfiction

I’d generally prefer something set at least in part after the time loop begins, but beyond that I don’t have a strong preference for where in the timeline this might be set.  Maybe something from before Zorian got looped in—maybe one of the iterations where Zach and Neolu just went off across the country having fun the whole month? Zach doing whatever, possibly very early on, or maybe him freaking out a little because what the hell, time travel is supposed to be impossible, and yet—what did he do in the start? Some canon-type shenanigans with Zach and Zorian together because there aren’t lasting consequences to their actions?

Or for post-canon, I’d really like an exploration of Zach, who’s got the lived-time of a middle-aged man and the body of a teenager—how does he relate to his classmates/other people in the real world, where everyone’s growing again?  Maybe something about his lawsuit against his caretaker, or just a little thing with him, Zorian, and How Do You Live Normally, Again?  This Is Hard, or some such thing.

One tag I like especially—though obviously if you didn’t match on it you needn’t include it—is “Character expected to die but didn’t and now has no idea how to live anymore,” since Zach definitely didn’t fully expect he would get a chance to live through the rest of his adolescence/adulthood, and something delving into that would be really interesting!

 Raynie & Raynie’s Tribe

Raynie & Kiana

Fanfiction, Podfic

I love Raynie, and I love the little glimpses we get into her character and her past in canon!

For her I was thinking maybe something after the invasion, maybe her going home again.  I’d love to see a reconciliation between her and her tribe, and a settling of the issues and problems that led to her being sent away.

If I’ve got my timeline right, her brother should be old enough to have reasonable interactions with; I’d really enjoy something dealing with the tension between them, letting them reconcile and build a better sibling relationship.

Alternatively, if we’re going for pre-canon, I’d really enjoy something dealing with her initial arrival in Cyoria and befriending Kiana.

 Cikan Kazinski & Kirielle Kazinski

Solo: Kirielle Kazinski

Nochka Sashal & Kirielle Kazinski

Zorian Kazinski & Kirielle Kazinski

Fanfiction

I’d really like something focusing on Kirielle here—she is, after all, the uniting factor in this set of requests.

I’ve got a few ideas for what could come of this!

-- Kirielle and her mother.  For this one, I’d rather it not be anything where Cikan can be described as “winning” a confrontation—I’d much rather have it be a confrontation where it either ends neutrally or in Kiri’s favor, or a reconciliation when Kiri’s a bit older, coming to understand each other better.  I’d be down for Cikan realizing that Kiri is her own person, and can forge her own way in life, if you can get a story there, but I’m not sure if there’s an in-character way to do so, given how she still relates to Daimen, a successful adult in his own right.

-- Kirielle and Nochka.  They’re adorable and I’d love a further development of their friendship, especially getting to see it grow and develop over the months and years after the invasion.

-- Kirielle and Zorian.  I love their dynamic!  And again here I’d really enjoy seeing their relationship developing in real time, rather than a constantly looping world.  I think it would be great to see either of them defending the other to their parents—and maybe Zorian ends up with custody of Kiri, there’s definitely things to explore there.

-- Kirielle.  I’d be here for any sort of character study of Kiri, really, but I’m gonna prompt a few specific things anyway.

---- She grows up a little, and becomes a student mage—what’s that like for her, especially having received Zorian’s tutelage?

---- She grows up a little, and doesn’t seriously pursue magic—does she devote herself more seriously to art?  Do something else?  Get away from her parents, and get to just be a kid for a little longer than her siblings?

---- By some mechanism, Kirielle gets pulled into the time loop, whether with Zorian, instead of him, or in some utterly unrelated incident. What’s it like to grow older and older in life experience while your body remains stubbornly nine?  How does this change the story?  If you go this route I’d rather looper!Kiri not be erased in the timeline of the fic—ending the fic before it becomes an issue or letting her escape back to the real world are what I’d rather see.

---- For some reason—there’s actually a fair amount that’d have to change here, but shhh this is my ridiculous self-indulgent prompt—Kirielle is the Controller.  How does she react to being in a looping world, with no one else looping she can possibly compare notes with?  What does she do with her time?  Why did the angels choose her?  How does this impact canon—is Jornak even a problem, does the whole Sovereign Gate affair pass much as it was meant to rather than the debacle that became of it in canon?

 Solo: The Ghost Serpent

Solo: Quatach-Ichl

Fanfiction, Podfic

So, these two are just… they’re old.  They’re very old; QI, the younger, is still a thousand years old, and they’ve just seen so much??  I’d love some sort of exploration of the world’s history through either of their eyes.

For the Ghost Serpent, I’d be very interested in what it saw the other Branded Ones do that put it off of them so badly.

For QI, I’m interested both in the world history around him and also how he became what he is—why/how did he become a lich in the first place?  Who was he before?  Why did he get a divine blessing?  What did he think of the gods falling silent?  What was the Necromancer’s War like?

For this prompt, I’d be down for an in-universe document or legend/folktale/fairytale about them, rather than an ordinary narrative. I’d also definitely be down for something like an epic poem or story-song, if you feel so inclined.

  Star Wars Rebels

Alexsandr Kallus & Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios

Fanfiction

I’m a total sucker for the enemies-to-allies redemption arc that Kallus and Zeb have going and really, anything exploring that dynamic I’d be down for.  Post-Honorable Ones is probably better—there’s a bit more to work with there—but mutual respect/grudging acknowledgement from before that point would be great too.

That being said, I would also be super down for one or both of them mentally travelling back in time and whatever ridiculous shenanigans emerge from that—honestly most of my tags can be interpreted as prompts for that, if you squint at least.

  Star Wars Rebels: Servants of the Empire

 Solo: Zare Leonis

Solo: Dhara Leonis

Zare Leonis & Dhara Leonis

Fanfiction

These poor kids, god.  I love them and I love their siblingship and I just, I want more. A lot of the freeforms I’m asking for are geared towards the aftermath of Secret Academy, and Dhara’s recovery and her relationship with Zare throughout that.  Do feel free to bring in their parents, too, though it’s by no means necessary.

Other things I’d be interested in include various types of role reversals and how that changes things—maybe it’s Zare who’s older, with a Force-sensitive little sister in Dhara, or the ages are the same and the Force sensitivity is flipped, or maybe Zare’s Force sensitive as well as Dhara, or the ages and Force sensitivity are flipped, making Zare Force sensitive and older and Dhara not force sensitive as well as being younger.

Another interesting thing would be exploring Zare readjusting to a civilian life; he’s quite conditioned into being so careful and military in his dress and his living space—does he keep that going? Let it fade?  Deliberately reject it?

 Solo: Lieutenant Chiron

Zare Leonis & Lieutenant Chiron

Fanfiction, Podfic

I love Chiron, he’s such an interesting character, and I am Big Sad that he doesn’t appear in any fics on ao3 as of yet.  He strikes me very much as a good man who doesn’t really know most of the bad things his government is doing; he cares about Zare and he cares that there’s abuses of power and murder going on at the academy; he truly, genuinely wants to make the galaxy a better place.

I would love to see a story where he lives through the climax of Secret Academy and, however that happens, is thus forced to question his government from that, since I’m also Big Sad that he died before he had that chance; failing that it would be interesting to have a fic exploring his past and how he came to be part of the imperial war machine, I think.

For him and Zare post-canon, assuming an AU where they both survive, I’d be down to see them rebuilding the relationship they had before and regaining some sort of trust/regard for each other.

  Original Works

Fandom-specific DNW: the word “queerplatonic” being used to describe relationships (writing something that you’d normally consider it is fine!  I just don’t really like the term), fics that are All About Being Trans And/Or Disabled, neopronouns, nondysphoric trans characters.

 Archmage & Apprentice

Failed Chosen One & New Chosen One

Girl Who Killed The Dark Lord & Her New Inherited Minions Who She Would Like To Be Less Scared

Fanfiction

I love fantasy, including space fantasy, and so many of its associated tropes: magic, destiny and fate and the subversion thereof, people being fundamentally human whilst caught up in something far beyond them…

This one’s a bit harder to prompt for, but looking through the tags I asked for should give you a decent idea for what I like; see also the general likes section above.

Thank you for creating for me!! I’m sure whatever you make will be lovely, and I’m looking forward to seeing it :D

[tarithenurse]

All is fair in Love & War - 4

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader Content: angsting, imprisonment, sexual undertones, killing, suffering, sneaking about, doubt, reluctant epiphany, more angst...the usual. A/N: This is a semi-AU in the sense that it is in a sort of medieval/fairy-tale setting, but Loki and MCU’s version of Nordic mythology still applies. If you want a tag, just let me know! I’ll be more than happy to hear anything on this as the continuation depends on popularity/feedback.

4. Gilded cage

You are not restrained for long, thankfully. Loki appears briefly to release you but does not utter a single word. Later a servant arrives with clean clothes (all dresses of fine fabrics and lavishly embellished) who helps you dress. She too leaves without giving you any information on what will happen. Another equally silent servant arrives with more wood for the fire.

Hours pass with nothing to do but walk about in the room, stare out of the window, and tend to the fire. By the time food is brought to you, it seems as though you have been starved for days. Perhaps time passes differently? Maybe the windows are enchanted to show me the wrong time of day? Either way, your stomach is growling at the sight of the steaming meal which is carefully served upon the little table by the fire together with a fine glass and a carafe of wine. You should at least hesitate to consider the option of poison in this meal despite the safety of the last, but it seems a waste of effort for the god to go through all this trouble only to kill you in such a manner (not to remind yourself that he has not seemed averse to violence). And so, you sit for the first time in one of the wide chairs, almost getting swallowed by the cushions and furs until you manage to rearrange them.

Grilled fish, vegetables, some type of mash. All of it smells of herbs and spices, most of which you cannot identify despite the mouth-watering effect it has. The cutlery is finely wrought of silvery metal. Perhaps the knife can serve as a weapon. It looks spindly, but it is better than nothing. For now, however, it will continue to be used as intended by the maker. A satisfied hum escapes you at the first bite.

“Glad you like it.” You almost choke at the sound of Loki. “No need for that, I’ve brought you something.”

That’s easy for him to say! There is plenty of reason to fear the madman and whatever he may have brought, so it is with a wary mind you watch him walk over to take the remaining seat. In his hands is a stack of books, all of them considerably thinner and with lettering on the spines that somehow is…simpler. Clearer. Gaudy colours grace some of the volumes.

“Please…you can continue your meal,” he urges, a smirk dancing on his lips, “I will show you these in the meantime.”

Not daring to enrage him again, you do as you are told trying hard to enjoy the taste of the food like with the first bite though your appetite has gone. Putting the stack aside, the god grabs the first book and holds it up for you to see. Only three letters are at the front and he points to them, as if explaining to a child, and announces that they spell out “A B C” which (according to him, at least) are the first three letters of the alphabet. Inside the book, each page is devoted to just one letter, and pretty images of things beginning with that letter (again you have to trust Loki on this) are depicted in pastels.

“Tell me, what is your name?”

It slips out of you before you can think better of it. Flipping through the pages, he reaches the page where the first letter in your name should be rendered and judging by the images, it may be correct.

…   LOKI’s POV   …

Putting the cutlery aside, the young woman, [Y/N], reaches out for the book with eyes round with wonder. Of course, he lets her hold it and watches as she traces the letter with a slender finger. He can almost recall the same wondrous feeling from his own discovery of the treasures words can hold. The power.

“What are the others? Your highness.”

She still feels compelled to show I am not her king in any way she can, Loki muses, but does not comment on it. Taking the children’s book back, he leaves through it until he has spelled out her name. In this moment, there is no fear. The air between them sings with victorious curiosity, sending warm ripples of her scent each time she reaches for the book to study it closer.

Then he takes another from the stack and opens it for her to see the pages with him. The smile on his own lips cannot be supressed when she scrunches her nose and wrinkle her brows in an effort to find any semblance in the few lines of text on each paper. This will be much easier than I thought.

“Your food is getting cold, little mortal.” And then he begins to read for her while she finishes the dinner.

…   READER’s POV   …

One day takes the other and a pattern starts to show. The morning includes a lavish breakfast with exotic fruits followed by a warm bath. Unfortunately, you are no longer taken to the bath hall by the kitchens, rather a smaller (though still full sized) tub is brought to your chambers each time and both filled and emptied by a flock of servants, people who do not say a single word to you…in fact some even scowl although you try to be kind to them, reminding yourself it is not their fault they have been born to serve someone like Loki.

It is odd, though. Looking at these people and their master, one would not think they hail from the same kingdom because these beings have subtle signs of the horrors you have heard ascribed to the god: nails reminiscent of claws; teeth too sharpened for comfort; lumpy scars and tattoos littering what skin there is to see. Their skin…each has an undertone of grey or blue reminding you of frost-touched mountains. It makes your own skin look as if it is burning in comparison.

Having people attend to you is disconcerting, making you heave a sigh of relief when the last one has left, locking the door behind them. If you are to be alone, then you would rather be so without anyone around you. And so, you while they day away in solitude, silently happy for the books that give you something to do with your mind – learning to read is not a skill most people possess and if you ever make it home again, then you know your fortune will be made thanks to this.

Home. More than once, you catch yourself staring out the windows (on a good day even pushing the glass pane aside to let the fresh air and shafts of sunlight in). Somewhere out there, maybe behind the forest at the horizon, is your homeland suffering under a decade-long war with the very same person whose prisoner you are. Because that is what you are. No luxury can change that you are locked in this room, held at Loki’s mercy until he bores of you…but so far, he has not. Each evening he arrives when your dinner has been brought and sits to read for or with you.

Tonight is no exception, and though the book he is reading from is too complicated for you to master your skill with you are hanging at his every word. He is telling a vaguely familiar story of the creation of the kingdoms. He calls them “realms”, but there is no doubt he means the same. Once there was peace (everyone knows that), but things changed as kings and gods broke treaties and grew greedy. The worst wars were between Asgard and Jotunheim, and the peace was new like the first leaves after the winter when the king of Midgard sought to grasp his opportunity, delving into a strife that still rages.

“No, that’s not right!” you exclaim with indignation. “Your highness, you cannot make me believe we- my country, my king would attack unprovoked?”

“Unprovoked?” A chuckle escapes Loki. “Resources and greed has been the motivation for worse deeds throughout history.” Reaching to the floor, he grabs a roll parchment and spreads it on his knees.

(Author’s note: decided to keep it overly simple because I’m no cartographer)

During your time in the army, you have seen enough maps to recognize what you are looking at although most of those hadn’t been anywhere near as detailed or for that matter featuring the entire world! All the maps you saw had to depict where to go to find the enemy. Blue and red lines zig-zag through the pastels of green and any variety of earthy hues you can think of, sometimes punctured by larger blotches of the first colours. Black dotted lines lead to the red blotches and you find lettering there.

Testingly, you begin to spell your way through a word that looks oddly familiar. “S-sjo…ö…sjöb-leek…lik. Sjöb-lik…OH! Sjöblik!” The capital of Midgard is penned out carefully on the map.

“Well done.” One of those unreadable glints plays with the green of his eyes, but it is gone and he is pointing at the mark. “That is where your kings sits, safe and sound while his loyal subjects fight and die for him.” He points to a red line between Midgard and the area to the east. “This border had been unrivaled for centuries. After the war, truce came about due to the death of the former king of Jotunheim, Laufey, and many thought this realm defenseless. Leaderless. They were wrong, as it turned out.” Loki chuckles coldly.

Again, indignation and rage bubbles within, making you slam the glass of wine you would been holding on the table with a clang. “How dare you?!” He does not answer, does not even look at you. “Look at me! You call yourself ruler. You mock my king for hiding behind safe walls, yet don’t you do the same this very moment? Why should I believe a word you say to discre–“

He is upon you faster than should be humanly possible, one grabbing your hair to force your face upwards while the other is raised as if to strike you. Instinctively, your jaw clenches, but the hit never lands.

“By Odin’s –“ He pauses to look you over and blow a wayward strand of black out of his face – “Why did I think it was a good idea to take you in? You do not want to learn the truth, stubborn mortal.”

“Learning’s not the same as accepting everything without question!”

A sharp tug of your hair tilts your head painfully, but it is the hurt in his eyes that silences you. “You think I would simply lie to you?”

“I know some of the names you go under. Silver tongue. Lie smith.” Your eyes are beginning to prickle, still you do not look away.

“And yet it is lies you seek to hold on to.” Seemingly lost in thought, he clicks his tongue a couple of times. “I suppose there is only one thing to do, then.”

Loki’s got you on your feet and drags you along. Thankfully he is favouring a grip on your upper arm rather than pulling you by the hair like some savage. At first the path is familiar: down the corridor and the stairs until reaching ground level, then the path differs and soon you have lost your way. It doesn’t matter, he won’t leave me ought of sight.

The two of you come to a halt to allow him a chance to open a smaller door that leads you into what must be some sort of storage mainly housing clothes and fabrics and...my gear! It is all there. Boots, leather armour, breeches, all of it. You grab it eagerly, happy to hold something that feels familiar. Safe.

“Change.” The god smirks at you from where he is leaning against the closed door. “And be quick about it.”

There is nowhere to hide from his gaze. Resigning, you tug at all the silly ribbons to loosen the dress which soon pools on the floor, allowing you to continue. All the time, you feel the bile of panic burning in the back of your throat. Even at the encampments on the way to and at the front, your fellow comrades had had the dignity to allow the women to sort their affairs in private, yet this so-called god shows no such manners. He is no king. Never will be. Finally dressed like the night you fell into his trap, you look for the few weapons you had.

“Do not be foolish. I would not trust you with my life.”

The words sends chills down you spine. Yet I have to trust you. There is no reason to voice the thought, because he must know what any sane person would think when at his mercy.

Silently, he leads you through the courtyard to the stables where he orders the stable boys to prepare his horse. The saddle is surprisingly simple, you manage to notice when an enormous steed is brought out moments later. Black like his hair, the beast blends in well with the night despite the torches and braziers. Standing before you, it bows its head to smell the shaking hand you present to it. Please, be kinder than your master, the prayer loops in your mind, and it is rewarded by the soft nudge of a muzzle begging for strokes and scratches between the ears although you have to stretch to reach.

All too soon, the calm moment ends. Loki lifts you onto the back of the horse before following swiftly and settling behind you. No matter what you do, you cannot avoid being pressed against his chest, caged by his arms and legs as he nudges the animal forward in what soon turns into a dashing gallop through the impenetrable darkness. Gripping the leather of the saddle tight, you try to focus on the movements of the horse rather than those of the man even as he sometimes slips an arm around you waist to pull you tighter. He’s simply making sure I don’t try to escape, the logical side of you reasons…even when his nose is buried in the hair by your neck.

“Now listen carefully, pretty mortal,” the cold  breath speaks in your ear, “I am taking you to the front, but I cannot have you betray our presence once there, so I will cast a spell to silence you, and I will be carrying you tied up to prevent you from doing anything…foolish.”

Naturally, there is a lot you want to say to him about that. Appease him. Yes, if you play his game then you might be lucky that he lets his guard down long enough for you to get away because surely, he cannot carry you all the time. Probably. Strong muscles are pressing against your back, butt and thighs, and somehow you do not fully believe that normal stamina has anything to do with any of…him. Also, there is his magic to consider.

“I know you are weighing you chances.” Once more a cold hand finds your midriff before blatantly sweeping over your chest (thank the gods for the barrier of the leather armour) until finally coming to rest on your throat. “I cannot recommend it, although it would a delightful change of things to truly hunt you down.”

Now that you believe.

The horse comes to a halt in, judging by the smell and sounds, a forest. How the creature and the god can have navigated the place without running headfirst into a tree or something is far beyond logic. You want to ask, but the hand on your throat burns hot and cold, stealing your breath away as your windpipe spasms uncomfortably. It is not painful, simply…wrong.

“ – !” None of the curses leave your mouth.

Feeling the air stick in your lungs, your tear Loki’s hand away, your nails digging into the skin before he manages to restrain you.

“Shush, breathe. Just breathe.” Somehow, he manages to soothe your frayed nerves. Shallow gasps turn into deep inhalations that in turn combat the tension in your shoulders, neck and chest. “Much better. I will restore your voice once this endeavour is over. Now, we have to walk from here.”

You feel him sliding away, and although you do not hear it, he must have landed on the ground too because a moment later his hands are on your waist and he pulls you down to stand next to him, both of your wrists in one of his large hands. Familiar golden-green-glowing dust emanates from his fingers and lights up the narrow space between you as it coils around your wrist where it turns into metal, cold and hard against the skin, but by then the light disappears. Blind once more, there is no warning before Loki hoists you onto his back and wraps you legs around his hips where he keeps them pinned as he begins to move effortlessly through the night.

The jostling motion continues for a long time, or so it feels, and you almost cannot believe it when you finally see a flicker of fire between the black silhouettes of tree-trunks and bushes. As Loki reaches the edge of the camp, it is evident that this is no little outpost.

The colours of the Midgardian army can be seen everywhere despite a thick layer of dirt and the worn condition of the fabrics, both a telling symbol of the state the forces are in. Most are asleep, exhausted and hungry as they are it is impossible to truly get any rest (you remember this all too vividly), and the few that should be on guard are fighting the urge to mimic their comrades. They’re not fulfilling their tasks! The enemy is walking through the camp, silent as a cat he moves from shadow to shadow and not a soul stirs as he passes, allowing him unchallenged access to enter the biggest tent in the camp.

In there, things look different. You have never been inside any other tent than your own (which was more of a shelter than an actual tent) and you are stunned at what you see in the soft light from the embers in the firepit. An actual cot is covered, improved with furs and a few cushions so that the man sleeping there suffers none of the hardships his men does. Of course, you expected the captain to have more favourable conditions, they were all thanes or chieftains and as such their status would merit certain comforts. But to see this leader snoring comfortably next to a low table with the unfinished scraps of his meal made you shake with anger. Chicken, vegetables, barley-mash, even fruit and wine! More than he could eat and drink, which contradicts everything you have been told on the “consequences everyone suffers from Loki’s invasions”.  Apparently, some suffer less than others.

“Look.” The god’s whisper makes you reposition your head to his other shoulder so you can get a clear view at the item he is pointing at.

On the table (a real, proper, wooden table) are documents in gnarly handwriting, but it is a crudely drawn map that has caught your captor’s attention. The borders are familiar thanks to the landmarks and the letters inserted in the rivers’ flow. The arrows signaling troop movements and planned battlefields, however, tell a different story than the one you were told by your superiors. According to the orders you had listened to, had memorized, the Midgardians were fighting to take back their own lands which had been stolen by the instigator Loki who, according to your king and commanders wanted nothing more than to wipe your homeland off the face of the earth. That is not what the map shows. Each arrow crosses from Midgard to Jotunheim.

“See that river?” Loki points to a set of somewhat parallel likes snaking across the parchment. “This used to be the border. You can even see the old line has been blurred, here.” Tapping his finger to indicate where for your sake. “We would need to walk west for two days before reaching where Midgard ought to begin.”

Having no words, you are left to nod mutely. Whether he cares remains a mystery to you because he has become engrossed in the letters, studying the (for you) impossible handwriting before stuffing them inside the leather armour together with the map. When did he change? Only now do you realize that the refined shirt has been gone for a long time, replaced with an outfit similar to the one he had worn the night you found him. It doesn’t matter. Why should you care what he wears? Truth is you do not, of course. The whispered sound of metal calls you out of the nonsensical babbling of your mind to see Loki leaning over the bed, a long knife gleaming in his hand for half an eternity before it is plunged into the unsuspecting Midgardian. Bloodshot eyes flutter open, locking briefly with his killer’s. Then they see nothing but the emptiness of the afterlife.

You have seen people die before, both naturally and by the hands of someone else. Witnessing the murder of this gluttony commander, it is the fact that you do not feel sorry for him that shocks you to your core. Lost in a debate on whether or not you are losing your soul, you pay little attention to Loki’s actions as he makes his way through the camp by seeking out the armouries, the enclosures for the beasts of burden. Bit by bit, he sabotages all he can, before eventually returning to the cover of the forest and the darkness there.

“This is what I do.” He still whispers although the enemy, the Midgardian camp, is safely behind. “Each night after we have read, I head out to gather information and delay the next wave of attacks to prevent meaningless bloodshed on both sides. You must understand this too.”

The rest of the journey back to Loki’s keep is passed in silence even though he restores you ability to speak once you reach his horse which has been waiting exactly where he left it.

…

The next evening, the god only visits briefly in your fancy prison to inform that he will be away.

It is a promise he keeps which at first feels wonderfully freeing but soon brings a new emptiness to the stale routine where the only other company grows increasingly hostile and negligent. Meals become simpler (still filling, at least), and the bath is replaced by a single bucket of cold water and a cloth in much the same way that the clothes suddenly are simpler too. You are not lacking anything, as such, but it is clear to you that only Loki has been the reason for the lavish attention you have received before and most likely it is their fear of him, or warped loyalty, that is keeping you alive.

Then comes the day where no one sees to you. Then one more…and one more. You keep the thirst at bay by drinking sparingly from the bucket of dirty bath water, prizing yourself fortunate that you had not poured it down the loo after use when no one had come to collect it as usual. The temperature, however, is a different matter: during the day, the room is cool, but at night the place does little to insulate against the dropping temperatures that penetrate the walls and the glass of the narrow windows. Some mornings, you wake to frost on the furs and pillow, and ice on the water in the bucket. No one comes. You grow lethargic from the hunger that no longer bites and tears at your insides but simply…is. At least sleeping can take your mind away from it.

[weirdoldmanhoho]

Hey, happy fma day! Could you please do a prompt or like headcanons ideas of what would have happened if Ed and Al and the homonculi were siblings/cousins? (whichever inspires you more) it would be wonderful and funny, sure as hell

Happy FMA day! OMG yes this is my favorite ridiculous, silly au. Prepare for some ridiculousness.

Okay, so Father shows up randomly at the Elric (Hohenheim?) house a couple years into Hoho living there and is just like “hello, my dearest, oldest friend, so good to see you.” (Hoho is like, yeah, I’ve been rethinking our relationship ever since you literally committed genocide in front of me.)

Father tells Hoho he’s turned over a new leaf. No really, he says, no more murder. He’s content to live out the rest of his life with the one Philosopher Stone he already made and definitely has no plans whatsoever to make another one – what? How could his dearest, oldest friend – who he NAMED and cared for before anyone and helped gain him his freedom – doubt him? What is he talking about that the map of Amestris looks suspicious? Does he really think he could control how an entire country was built? His oldest, dearest friend (“seriously, stop calling me that”) has too high of expectations for him.

Anyways, Father says he showed up because he ended up with 7 kids somehow (“totally an accident. Just happened.” “…uh-huh.”) and he has absolutely no idea how to handle them and they’re all driving him absolutely crazy, and he heard that Hoho has two boys of his own (congrats, by the way, didn’t know you had it in you, your wife is lovely, good job) and maybe he’s managed to figure out this whole fatherhood thing better than he has, so can he bring the family and stay for a while? Just a bit?

And because Hoho is ultimately a sympathetic sap, he says yes. (Trisha literally might kill him. She won’t talk to him for two days. She threatens to take Ed and Al and run away. “This might be good for him, Trisha. He might actually learn to be better and care for people if he lives around humans for a while.” “If any one of his ‘children’ touch our children, I WILL find out how to kill an immortal and after I’m finished with them, I’m coming after you.” “I love you so much.”)

So the family moves in. Ed and Al meet their “cousins”. The homunculi meet the Elrics under strict orders not to hurt them. It goes about as well as you can expect.

Envy really likes screwing with Ed and Al. Their favorite hobby is transforming into one of them and trying to get in as much trouble as possible (pulling Winry’s hair, throwing things at Den, hitting the other real Elric brother, etc.) Jokes on them, though, because Trisha has gotten REALLY good at figuring out when it’s Envy in disguise and just happens to “accidentally” hit them with things. Like, she “accidentally” trips when Envy is in the kitchen as Ed and drops a metal pot on their head. (“Oh no! Edward, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there!” She definitely did. She definitely aimed for the head on purpose.)

(In secret, all the Elric/Hohenheims have come up with tells to let each other know they’re not Envy. They might be putting up with them living here, but damn it all if Trisha is just going to passively let them torment her family.

Greed and Envy hate each other, so Greed teams up with the Elrics to help harass his sibling, and ends up actually becoming a big brother figure to them. And somehow, damn it all, he’ll deny it until his dying breath, he’s actually grown a little fond of the tikes. He lets Ed try on his ugly fur vest once. He puts on the invincible shield and lets them hit him with things (look just because he actually tries to play with the kids doesn’t mean he knows anything about appropriate games for human children. Envy and Lust and him hit each other all the time – and usually with a lot more blood and death involved – surely that’s fun for his little “cousins” right?)

Trisha walks outside once and sees her sons just beating on Greed with any weapon they can find and just…walks away. She doesn’t even care anymore. As long as it’s her sons beating one of the homunculi and not the other way around, she’s not going to stop it. She considers that this might be teaching her children bad lessons for the future – such as its okay to just beat people with sticks – but considering it’s also teaching them it’s okay to beat up homunculi, she thinks the pros outweigh the cons.

Lust tries to act like she’s above everything, but she usually gets dragged into arguments. She just kind of randomly flip-flops between helping Envy screw with the kids and teaming up with Greed to defend them like a guard dog, with no apparent rhyme or reason to which she’s going to do on any given day. Ed and Al are both terrified and slightly in awe of her. It’s pretty much exactly how Envy and Greed feel too.

One of their “cousins” looks suspiciously a lot like the former Furher of Amestris (who randomly disappeared a couple months ago, stating “family emergency” before vanishing). Wrath wears a whole bunch of ridiculous disguises every time he takes the boys into town. I’m talking like fake moustache over his real moustache and sunglasses. Really ridiculous hats. Hawaiian shirts. A fake nose once. (“This is just sad,” Envy tells him. “I’ve seen humans disguise themselves better than this.” “I’m not taking advice from someone who willingly walks around looking like that.” Envy has to be held back from trying to maul Wrath by Lust, because Envy has already lost FIVE LIVES since living here – one of them might have been from Trisha, but she won’t confirm or deny anything and only cackles quietly to herself when she looks at Envy sometimes – and if they keep it up they’re going to actually die FOR REAL by next year. “DO YOU THINK PHILOSOPHER’S STONES GROW ON TREES?” Father booms, then goes immediately to Hoho and is like, “That was the right phrase, right? I also tried grounding like you suggested.” “You’ll get this fatherhood thing in no time. Also, you can’t end the grounding no matter how sad they look. That’s what Trisha says.”)

Side note: Mrs. Bradley definitely moves in with them too and now she knows exactly what her husband and son are and still loves them just as much. Pride is confused and slightly mortified, but also touched – he’ll never admit it. Wrath just really loves this human woman he chose. He and Hoho trade stories about their adventures wooing strong-willed, slightly scary mortal women. They get drunk together once and cry into the night about how wonderful their wives are and the fact that their children are growing up before their eyes – “I don’t grow, Wrath, what are you talking about?” “My son sounds so grown up!” Both men sob harder.

Trisha and Mrs. Bradley become fast friends. They run a So-You-Married-an-Immortal support group. Currently they’re the only members. Meetings basically consist of them exchanging stories of the weirdest things they’ve ever seen their husbands do.

Pride becomes weirdly protective of the baby Elrics. Mostly because he believes Father wants to keep them safe and he’s the most loyal devoted son who will do anything Father wants, so he takes great pride (ha) in protecting the baby Elrics from every harm he can think of. He also looks the most similar in age to them, so he lets Father enroll him in the local school and watches over them while in class. The rest of the class and the teacher are absolutely terrified of him, because he mostly just sits behind Ed and glares at everyone who moves too close.

Ed and Al grow up with a really weird understanding of shadows – ie, convinced that they can definitely move independently and are physical things you can touch, because that one time Al tripped, a bunch of shadows definitely grabbed him before he hit the ground, placed him back on his feet, and patted his shoulder reassuringly for good measure.

Sloth does nothing, of course. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to dig that tunnel anymore. He mostly sleeps and Ed and Al try to figure out how much they can stack on him before he wakes up. Or how many times they can poke him. Or how loudly they can shout. Etc.

Somehow it turns out mostly okay though. Ed and Al make it into their teenage years without dying or any serious maiming. (Only Greed and Envy have been maimed, but their injuries heal so it’s fine.) They have at least two homunculi that are fiercely protective of them, one that usually at least has more fun fighting their enemies than them, one who acts like a weird uncle and showers them with gifts and random melons, and two that are pretty indifferent as long as they’re left alone. And Envy, who definitely still wants to make their lives as miserable as possible, but is at least usually outvoted by the other homunculi.

The Elric/Hohenheim family is very weird, but most of them (and Resembool) have accepted that. Trisha definitely would still kill any of them if they hurt her sons though.

Thanks for the prompt!

[thejourneymaninn]

AU Game

Our fandom’s creativity potion (seriously, where would we be without you?), the amazing @dovabunny tagged me for her AU game. 

Reality TV network AU

The whole gang works for the same network. While they each have their own show(s), they frequently do crossover episodes.

Varric: runs the whole thing. Officially, he’s the ‘business side’ of the network, but he keeps poking his nose into the creative aspects. Almost all of the show concepts were his idea (often whispered into a receptive ear over a bit too much ale in the Hanged Man), and a suspicious number of scripts are written by a certain ‘Chester Hair’.

Hawke: co-founder and official face of the company but leaves the business aspects to Varric. Their coaching/self-improvement show ‘Dragon Rage’ (“Feel it roar, let it out, face your fear”) is the network’s flagship, but their heart belongs to “Mabari Mates”, their show about building a better bond between dogs and their owners.

Merrill: hosts a landscaping/gardening show helping people make the best of their gardens (her trademark is having them look like untouched wilderness and a calming oasis at the same time). She always makes sure any resident spirits are left undisturbed (‘no, no, you can’t cut down that tree to make room for a gazebo, its occupant wouldn’t like that’). She also has an antiques’ show called ‘arteFACTS’ where people bring (what they believe to be) ancient artefacts for evaluation and/or restoration. Both shows air once a week, and she always sticks to her schedule, frequently leaving her friends worrying she might overtax herself.

Isabela: has at least five different shows but doesn’t stick to the schedule for any of them. There’s no way of knowing when the next episode’s going to air, might be next week, might be next month, better follow her on twitter for updates (and dirty limericks). Varric keeps threatening to fire her, but everyone knows it’s just empty talk – all her shows are major hits. Her crew is close to mutiny, though. Her most popular shows are ‘Looting that booty’ (sex tips/sex ed, sex toys and porn reviews and recommendations, interviews with experts/sex workers) and Rogue’d (a prank show she co-hosts with Sera. Her favourite victims? Her co-workers.)

Carver: weight loss/fitness coaching show. He’s brash, harsh, and borderline cruel to his clients, demanding they give 100% at all times, but has been rumoured to be an absolute sunshine off-camera. (A rumour Bethany spread and is definitely never going to let die down.) He absolutely hates having to do crossover episodes with Hawke, like ‘tips for jogging with your dog’ or ‘outdoor fun for you and your furry friend’ (‘we are not calling it that!’), but keeps eagerly suggesting more episodes with Merrill ( “Come on, ‘How to turn your Elder Tree into a workout station’ was a huge success, wasn’t it?”)

Bethany: production, mostly stays behind the scenes. As Varric’s right hand, she pretty much runs the creative side of the company but likes to pretend (with frightening success) she’s ‘just an intern’. Constantly torn between keeping her friends in check and fucking with them.

Anders: hosts a call-in show in which he gives medical advice to people who don’t have insurance (most of the advice being ‘come see me at my clinic tomorrow, I’ll treat you for free’) and rants about the system’s injustices between calls. He also has a little passion project on the side, Feline fine – everything you need to know about your cat. His favourite segment is ‘Adopt a pat - finding new homes for abandoned cats’.

Fenris: initially didn’t want to participate at all but eventually agreed to host a book club/literary criticism show where he and his guests talk about new releases. Authors hate him, as he is blunt and merciless in his criticism, but the audience absolutely adores him and his spot-on acid remarks. The most popular episodes are the ones where Anders guest stars – when Fenris tears a book to shreds, Anders will defend it just as mercilessly. Although his main motivation is to spite Fenris, he does frequently offer fresh interpretations or contexts that tend to go overlooked. On screen, Fenris brusquely dismisses them, but he’ll secretly reread the book afterwards to see if this new perspective changes his verdict. Occasionally, it does, but he will never, ever admit it.

Justice: camera operator. Prefers to observe from a distance but will later pester the others with tips on how to improve their client’s life (long after shooting has finished and they have moved on to the next one). Anders and Merrill are usually the only ones who listen.

Sebastian: is very devoted to his spiritual advice call-in show ‘Buckle up for Andraste, spreading the Maker’s light’. It’s not popular with the Chantry, as he refuses to ask for donations (also, Elthina doesn’t want competition for the Chantry’s own ‘The barbed truth with Mother Petrice’). Varric’s not exactly fond of it either, but Sebastian’s parents invested heavily in the network, and the kid means well, bless his boring heart, might as well let him fill the late night slots.

Aveline: responsible for security and casting (all applicants are thoroughly vetted. A little more so than necessary, perhaps.) She also has a show where she gives financial advice and helps people get out of debt (alas, Gamlen was not a success story). She refuses to appear in any of the other’s shows, stating ‘she sees too much of these fools as it is’… but still ends up in the Hanged Man with them every night.

Donnic: production assistant, also takes care of catering and oversees security on set. Basically, he makes sure the others don’t accidentally set themselves on fire (and puts them out when they do.)

Bonus:

Emile de Launcet: After the spectacular failure of ‘Pickup artiste’, Varric gave him another chance. His new show ‘Perfect Mageover’, where participants get a new wardrobe and donuts haircuts, is a huge hit in Orlais.

Bran: Only shows up for his interior design show ‘horror houses’ and avoids interacting with the others as much as possible. His open disdain for his clients’ gaudy tastes is legendary, making the show a guilty pleasure for many viewers. There’s nothing he hates more than having to work with Hawke for clients with messy houses and messy dogs. (”The hair gets everywhere, and Hawke is an insufferable cretin.”) The audience, however, loves them together, which is why Bethany is secretly working on a concept for a show co-hosted by the two of them. That’ll teach Hawke not to go through her stuff.

The Arishok: In his ‘Cooking duel’, contestants cook against each other and the clock with random ingredients picked out by members the audience. The winner doesn’t get to celebrate for long, though - they have to duel him next.

[castielusive]

Ray’s Miscellaneous Rec List

Several of these are unique, and a lot of my favorites are on here because of that. Assume all fics are rated explicit unless stated otherwise. WIPs are marked, but few and far between. Updates regularly.

Title: Asunder by rageprufrock

Word count: 23,817

Summary:  Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

Sam gets married, Dean gets a wake up call. Easy top 3.

UPDATE: Pod fic version. It’s so good. (x).

Title: Carry On by TamrynEradani

Word count: 148087

Summary: When Sam gets into Stanford, Dean needs a bigger paycheck than Bobby’s garage can give him. Luckily, he knows a guy.

Edit: The author took this one down, but she’s said she’s fine with people reading it if they have the pdf. Hit me up if you want it.

Edit 2: Podfic version: x

Title: The Breath of All Things by KismetJeska

Rating: T

Word count: 65,404

Summary: Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralyzed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It’s only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.

Easily number three in my favorites.

Title: Drop Anchor by almaasi

Word count: 42,124

Summary: AU. A sailor and an enemy pirate are marooned on an island together, and while awaiting rescue they accidentally achieve domestic bliss.

Or:

Dean Winchester is lieutenant of the Royal Trading Ship Echelon. On a pleasantly sunny but particularly catastrophic day, he is marooned on an island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with only one man for company. That man is Castiel, captain of the black-sailed Leviathan: a pirate, no less. Given the circumstances under which they are stranded, rescue seems unlikely, and it could be aeons before a ship even comes by. The two of them may as well make the most of their own private island, personal differences be damned.

This is lovely.

Title: In the Weeds by Nanoochka

Word count: 40,265

Summary:

“Dean knew, from the minute he laid eyes on Chef Castiel MacCarthy, the day would come that he would have to kidnap the man and dump the body in the darkest, dirtiest crack den in Ireland. Given that this was Dublin city, it wouldn’t be hard to find.”

Title: make you whole by casfallsinlove

Word count: 4,531

Summary: In which there is a funeral, mixed-up feelings, quiet motel rooms, and a long journey home.

Title: 300 Things by cautionzombies

Word count: ~76,500

Summary: Dean’s life at twenty-four makes him feel like he’s forty–he works two jobs to help pay bills for his house and put his genius little brother through private school, and has spent six years (on and off, let’s be honest) working on his mechanical engineering degree at KU. With so much of his life devoted to his family, Dean has little time in his schedule for class and no time for social interaction. Then, while getting his classes together for the fall, he finds himself in a do-or-die situation: He must take his last literature class now, his spring already filled with those left for his major…except that none of the English classes will fit his schedule. This is how Dean grovels and begs Dr. Castiel Milton to make a special arrangement for him, and Dr. Milton does.

Easy top 5. Ashton’s art is what got me to read this one in the first place, and I didn’t notice it linked anywhere in the fic, so I’m sticking one here quickly.  [x]

Update: Tenoko1 did an audio fic and I am completely enamored with it. [x]

Title: Significant by holyhael

Word count: 4,547

Summary: Dean Smith’s and Castiel’s unconventional morning after.

This is? Amazing?

Title: There’s No Going Back by Catchclaw

Word count: 2983

Summary: Some of the things you find on vacation are hard to bring home.

Dean Smith/ Endverse!Cas is quickly becoming my favorite thing ever.

Title: put your hands on my waist by mcpadalackles

Word count: 2,182

Summary: “Dean is sitting at the window seat in their dark bedroom, the one that opens onto the fire escape. He must be cold. He’s wearing nothing but boxers, miles and miles of lovely bare skin exposed to the cool breeze drifting in. If he is, he doesn’t seem to care.”

Short but sweet. One of my top 10.

Title: Bicker by followyourenergy

Word count: 7947

Summary: Sam Winchester is nervous.  He’s taking his girlfriend of eight months, Jess, to meet his brother, Dean, and his brother’s best friend and roommate, Castiel.  Sam loves his brother and loves Cas, but it seems like all the longtime friends do is bicker and he hates it.   Sure enough, from the moment they arrive Dean and Cas are at it.  Sam thinks he knows what’s best for the two of them, but Sam ends up learning a few things about love and relationships that he never expected.

[NEW] Title: Smells Like Queer Spirit by ChasingRabbits

Word count: 8,364

Summary: It's been ten years since Sam Winchester has seen his brother. However, just as he's come to terms with the likelihood that he will never see Dean again, fate (and the internet) intervene and Sam is finally able to track him down.

What he finds throws him for a monstrous, brain-scrambling loop.

A series with a lot of variety. Not every piece is my favorite, but this one and the last two are great.

[NEW] Title: Mr. & Mr. Smith by amarillogrande

Word count: 26,550

Summary: Dean and Castiel Winchester are a normal married couple, living a normal life in a normal suburb, working normal jobs—both as secret deadly assassins. When they find each other as targets, their quest to kill each other leads them to learn a lot more about each other than they ever did in five (or six) years of marriage.

Canonverse and (mostly) canon divergent:

[NEW] Title: A Little Company by VioletHaze

Word count: 48,585

Summary: After Cas became human, he and Dean finally stopped dancing around what existed between them. The vulnerability of the newly-fallen angel scared the hell out of Dean, scared him enough to decide that he was ready to stop pretending and make some serious changes.

Now, five years later, they'd retired from hunting to live a "normal" life in Sioux Falls complete with a house and a brand-new adopted baby daughter.  Against all odds, Dean had found that the civilian life he'd always scoffed at nearly overwhelmed him with joy. 

But Dean knew better than to bask in it; the world was a dangerous place and a happiness like that depended on him safeguarding his little piece of it.

[NEW] Title: Hunting for Faith by  perunamuusa and riseofthefallenone

Word count: 270,952

Summary: It starts a few days earlier.

Castiel first notices it in the middle of the night when the dreams of fire and screams have kept him awake. He’s kneeling before the altar, praying, when the glass in the windows start to shake, the very air vibrating around him. Castiel is on his feet and reaching for the gun tucked into the back of his pants as the shutters over the windows start to rattle.

Title: Bring up the Deep by beenghosting

Word count: 22,679

Summary: They went back and forth on whether or not to make the drive until Sam found an article in the town’s local paper dated a week earlier about a lobster fisherman who swore a monster sank his boat.

Case fic!

Title: The Five People You Meet in Heaven by amarillogrande

Word count: 22,237

Summary: Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical

Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good) there’s a couple things you gotta do first.

There are five people waiting for you.They are the five people you meet in heaven.

Best canonverse fic I have ever read.

Title: Faith Healer by punkascas

Word count: 75,087

Summary: Dean hates faith healers. Scam artists and power-hungry dicks, all of them. But with Sam nearing the end of his rope and desperate for a way to keep their father’s last words from being true, Dean has no choice but to turn to the enigmatic and irascible Castiel, more tattooed junkie than spiritual leader, in hopes of finding a way to cure Sam. Yet Castiel hides dangerous secrets, and Dean soon learns they have more to worry about than just Yellow Eyes and Sam’s growing demonic abilities. War is coming. Canon divergent after 2.10.

Title: Dean (and Cas’) Top 13 Zepp Traxx by pantheon_of_discord

Word count: 82,450

Summary: Dean eases Baby down the frontage road, trying not to look in the rearview mirror as his home gets smaller and smaller behind him.

He’s done this a hundred times. He’s driven down this road in the soft morning light, heading out to some little town in some distant corner of the country. This is a job like any other.

“It’s not like we’re never coming back,” Cas says from the passenger seat.

Dean and Cas and the open road, to the tune of Led Zeppelin. A post-series story in thirteen parts.

Title: where the weeds take root by beenghosting

Word Count: 16,450 (so far)

Summary: “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

Title: new testament [just more of the same ‘verse] by outpastthemoat

Word Count: 46,880

Summary: No heaven. No hell.  Just Dean and Cas and the status quo.