#since i realized I didn't actually /have/ any whoops XD]

[dramatisperscnae]

closed starter for @bruz3r's superheavy arc >w>

Once upon a time, Dick had thought he'd never put on the cape and cowl again. Once upon a time, he'd actively avoided doing so until there had been no other choice; Bruce was gone, a murderous pretender was aiming for the title, and it had been a choice between stepping up and going against orders or seeing the legacy Bruce had worked so hard for - the legacy he'd given his life for - completely destroyed. And then Bruce had come back, and Dick had given the legacy back more than happily.

How times have changed.

And yet how they haven't.

The cowl still feels strange on his face, the cape too heavy on his shoulders, but what choice does he have? Gotham City needs Batman, and in the absence of the real one Dick is just going to have to do. Like hell he's going to let anyone else do it [excepting maybe Damian, once the boy is old enough, but that won't be for years yet]

At least this time Bruce isn't entirely gone. Not physically, anyway; mentally…well, the man is still there, but he's not the same. How can he be, without the memories that shaped him? And without those, how can he be Batman?

He can't.

Such are the thoughts on Dick Grayson's mind as he runs the night's patrol. It's been an easy one so far, but in Gotham that can change in the brief pause between heartbeats. And so it does now. He's known the Wayne Foundation was holding a benefit tonight, a fundraiser for one of the Foundation's many child welfare projects, but he'd hoped - in vain, but hoped nonetheless - that it might go off without a hitch.

No such luck. The moment the word of shots fired comes over the Batmobile's radio he's turned the car around while the tires squeal in protest, flooring the accelerator and all but rocketing through the city streets, all with one thought foremost in his mind.

Please don't let Bruce be there…

[practically-an-x-man]

What would your OCs be like if they never met their shipmate? What would the shipmate be like without OC?

Ooooh, fascinating question! Thank you!

Long post incoming... lot of people to cover lol

Rae: Would still be a non-mutant (since Apocalypse expressed her mutation, and she ran into him when he came after Warren), would be off in some other country to practice another language, would still have that vaguely restless and unfulfilled feeling surrounding her life. Warren (Worthington): Well, it would follow the usual path of X-Men: Apocalypse if Rae hadn't intervened... which means he'd be dead. Whoops.

Robin: Wouldn't be at the X-Mansion unless Sean chose to introduce her, wouldn't have had her TBI- but also wouldn't have had the excitement and adventure of being an X-Man, so it balances out. She'd probably end up meeting someone through her opera work, but it would be a much less exciting life than the one she has with Peter XD Peter (Maximoff): Would still be a little reckless and immature, since meeting Robin was what convinced him to slow down and start taking things seriously. Aside from that, though, probably not much different?

Madison: Would still be out in the wilderness somewhere - she'd think she's happy enough, since the straightforwardness of that life is comforting in its own way, and wouldn't realize how truly lonely she was in that life. Alex: Same as we see him in the movies - still loves his family, but pretty prickly and distant. He's still kind of prickly when he's with Madison, but she helps him open up and mature for sure.

Ophelia: Depending on how you interpret it, she's either still dead (wasn't pulled through the multiverse) or is just doing alright (was pulled through the multiverse, just didn't meet Peter while she was there). She's good at being independent, she's happier with Peter but would still be alright if she hadn't met him. Peter (Parker): Kind of the same - his grief over Gwen would probably hit him a lot harder, since Olly and Peter do help each other process their grief over the ones they've lost, but he'd still be alright if he hadn't met her.

Gia: Would still be a total hermit, hardly able to work up the courage to leave her shop. Kate definitely helps her open back up :) Kate: Honestly... I'm not sure. I don't know as much about Kate as I do about the others... she'd probably get herself in trouble a lot more though XD

Jasper: Would've completed college and become a nurse as normal, but since Kyle has helped them feel safer and more comfortable with who they are in their actual life, they'd be a little more reserved and unsure of themself without him. Kyle: The plot of AHS Coven... after he gets necromanced, he's used as love-triangle-fodder and basically treated like an object to create conflict between two of the other characters. I literally created Jasper as a fix-it so he'd have a healthy relationship, so without them... yeah.

Kestrel: Wouldn't even be Kestrel, really - Warren encouraged them with so much of who they are, if they hadn't met him then they'd still be shapeless like any other changeling. Warren (Burgess): Hard to say... he doesn't have a romantic partner in the books except for a reference that he used to date Vanessa (another book character), so I think he'd be alright. It would be one of those "wouldn't know what you're missing" sort of deals though, how would you know you're missing your partner if you've never met them?

Katherine: Would have a fairly normal life - would have graduated college, found a reasonably steady source of art work somewhere, would eventually have found a partner and started a relationship, nothing exciting. Her life with Ahk is a lot more... exciting. Ahkmenrah: About the same as it's been for most of his museum life, really. I can't say too much would change.

Quinn: Would have dropped out of college, found a cover-the-bases job somewhere, would have just coasted along somewhere until she could either pay to finish her education or got promoted in the role she ended up... it would be a much more boring life, and she'd probably drive herself crazy. Billy: I can't imagine he'd be too terribly different, at least in the beginning, though he definitely matures some as he learns to support Quinn through their disability (so he'd be missing that for not having met her)

Eris: I mean, they've lived hundreds of years without Rick, I can't say too much has changed for having met him. Rick: Similar answer, he's not too different with or without them. Partially this is because of the style of their relationship - yes, they're devoted to each other, but they're self-reliant people by nature and would be fine apart.

Nikoletta: Would still be in Belle Reve, and still holding up that same icy, unshakable persona of the Queen of Belle Reve. Abner: Physically would have died in Corto Maltese (as the movie has it). Emotionally, would still be closed-off and refusing to allow himself happiness.

Jimmy: Would still be wandering Coney Island, the same way he had for a hundred and nine years before. Lars: I'm not sure. He's a new character, and there's not much about his personal life in the movie, so I genuinely haven't figured out what all would change.

(Sorry some of these answers might be disappointing, it's hard to think of striking differences for the canon characters since most of my fics are either fix-its or follow canon up to a point)

[lavenoon]

So, I was wondering! In canon we know the reason Robin and Dusk started to bond was because he bantered back with them and kept up with their rhythm, creating a fun rivalry that eventually turned out into a closer relationship, with them worrying about the other a lot. In AU AU AU, what is exactly that makes Dawn reconsider his first impression of them? Was it like seeing them in action, or maybe they pushed themselves to their best performance after declaring him their rival? Or did he not even notice until one day he realized he was looking forward to seeing them and then had an Oh moment where he was like huh. Well time to turn up the charm! (and then internally cry because it doesn't work for the longest time XD). Totally not asking to have a better feel for Sun's characterization or any other writing reasons, nope! (I realize I adore reverse Sun a lot kjhkjh)

A multitude of things, in a way!

While the ankle-grabbing certainly set the tone (for Robin), there were many little moments that made Dawn just stop for a moment and reconsider them.

From "Why is this human so determined to make this job as difficult as possible" to "Wait huh they're actually not half bad" to "They take me seriously even as other agents invalidate my work. That's why they act like this."

Because other agents trying to explain away Dawn's (and Dusk's) quick rise of rank isn't just a thing of canon! Robin would be much more direct, though only when they assume Dawn isn't listening/ watching (he is, whoops, didn't wait long enough), and they go off. They're proud, and it is a little self serving, but they confirm that the rank is earned - "Why do you think we get paired up that much? If you could motivate me to improve by getting even remotely good enough, maybe I wouldn't have worked solo for so long."

Sun is used to people underestimating him, with his permanent grin and sunny demeanor - he half encourages it, even, or maybe better leans into it, to fly under the radar or surprise targets. It still chafes, but of course he wouldn't admit that. It's a mental adjustment to realize that this one agent who seems to have had it out for him since day 1 only did so because they assumed he's a threat to their position - a few things click into place for him then, and he sits up and takes notice.

Oh. Interesting.

It's not quite a crush (yet), but it's interest, and he's paying a lot of attention now!

Before that, he respected Robin as fellow skilled agent, though the jabs were rather harsh then, still. After this? He starts leaning more towards flirts and flustering, enjoying those reactions much more than the cutting remarks Robin opted for before :3c

(You and me both at Reverse Sun/ honestly Rival Sun in general because canon Sun got the same spunk if a different dynamic, I am constantly looking at myself with the "non judgemental, but very aware gaze" any time I write about him FGHDJSK)

[henriiiii-1001old]

Actually I'm gonna send another au ask (I hope u don't mind XD) I kinda wanna know whats up with "Spider Puppet" (the design rules so much) and also any other fun facts you have about AltThatcher/Puppet from Unholy Gift?

NO I DONT MIND AT ALL

ALSO H E L L Y E A H SPIDER PUPPET!!!!!!

his name is technically "the puppeteer" because haha symbolism CFVGBHN

so fun fact about puppet, he was made to not be able to have any sort of weird flaws other than his pure form. however, overtime puppet just got like. reeeaaally pissed at gabriel because half the time he's not even in full control of himself. he is literally a puppet to gabriel.

so he just bottled up a lot of anger, and his spider form didn't truly emerge until ruth escaped. so he was just extra pissed at that point. so pissed to the point he grew his hair slightly longer and formed 4 extra arms and 6 more eyes. anger issues paired with technical daddy issues can do a lot to a man SDCFVGBH

but he can use his extra limbs to climb walls and shit so that's cool. and fucking freaky. LIKE. F R E A K Y. ESPECIALLY SINCE HE LOOKS LIKE A VERY FUCKED UP THATCHER WHILE DOING IT.

and oooooo fun facts!!!! :DDDDD

was made by gabriel to be a sort of "perfect alternate". he would have no flaws when mocking a person's appearance, making him the least detectable and would only be able to further gabriel's plans. this however backfired when he realized that puppet couldn't actually mock personalities and for the fact that puppet eventually tried overthrowing him. whoops.

is associated with the color pink!!! specifically a dark pink to contrast thatcher's lighter green color. also to be complimentary to ruth's yellow while still contrasting by being assigned a darker color.

was actually the alternate that made cesar kill himself. and since cesar's conversion to becoming an alternate, they have been literally best friends. cesar takes a lot of his personality from puppet.

was ALSO one of the alternates that played a part in mark's death. he was the one shot by mark too. the technical real cesar was there too, but he just did the voice stuff as well as the phone call to lure mark to the torres house.

this is probably gonna be taken out of context by proshippers so listen to me VERY CLOSELY. he THOUGHT that he had a crush on ruth for a while. i just think this is a funny concept so it's here. DO NOT TAKE THIS AS ME TRYING TO SHIP!!!!! they would be in an EXTREMELY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP IF THAT WERE THE CASE, in which they technically ALREADY ARE due to puppet literally mentally, emotionally, and physically tormenting ruth by keeping her in her own home without any means of escape without some sort of very cruel punishment. PLEASE PLEASE do not take this the wrong way.

continuing from the last one since i hopefully set that straight: puppet probably went to six all like "BRO IM IN LOVE HELP WHAT DO I DO" and six is just like "um. idk man you're not supposed to feel that stuff. and i haven't felt love since i became an alternate lmao gl w that". he does eventually realize it was only a weird side feeling of being obsessed with becoming thatcher, so he was probably just like "i must be besties with her or else i am not thatcher, but i am him so i'll be fine" and he just completely misread his own feelings. mostly because he's not supposed to have them but yeah :/

kinda hates tiffany. they only hang out with each other bc they cannot tolerate any of the other alternates other than cesar and adam. so they kinda just deal with it LMAO

his hair is kinda supposed to look like horns!!! like lil devil horns :DDDDD yes i took that straight from my old william design shut up CFVGBHNJ

uuhhh yeah that's kinda it for now! i hope you enjoy as another alt thatcher fan :3c

[beingatoaster]

Housin - 50 (dealer's choice); Franzka - 38 (dealer's choice); Sudryal - 24 (dealer's choice)

I took some liberties with the phrasing of… all the lines I used, actually, looking at them. >> But they should still be discernable! Also I ended up writing Housin's from Bloom's POV and only realized maybe it should have been hers at the end, so... whoops? XD;;;;

Housin: General - 50. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

The forest tells Bloom that Housin is coming. It's taken him some time to settle back into it since his return, but it had tuned itself to him easily, if slowly. More easily than he would have expected after being away from the land so long. But it drinks him in like the rains that so rarely fall here among the dry pines, and he does his best to mold himself to it in return. The small, everyday rhythms of the wild life here, hidden to unknowning eyes, is a quiet hum in the back of his mind, and any disruption to it is called to his attention immediately.

Housin isn't a disruption, doesn't clang through his druidic awareness like a gang of poachers or a crackling wildfire. But the forest treats her like one of the great predators that prowl within it. Which is the right way to look at her, in Bloom's estimation. And that means that he knows when she draws near.

Rising from his campfire, taking his staff in hand, he awaits her. She has come to him before with trouble on her heels, or trouble she wants to bring him too. Rarely does she come to him for no reason but to share his solitude. He hopes for that, though. He always does.

When she arrives in the clearing where he'd made his camp, there's a child in her arms. Bloom tenses, as any man might when a woman whom he's slept with arrives before him with a child, but even the quickest glance banishes that thought. The child has neither horns nor scales, neither slitted snake-eyes nor a curling tail. Human--no, half-elven, by the points on her ears and the greenish tint to her hair, in any case and a handful of years too old to have been a product of any of their couplings.

Bloom smiles at them, Housin and the child both, because the girl looks frightened and uncertain, and while Housin is expressionless, there's a tension in her stance that suggests she feels the same. He knows that being able to see that in her is in itself a sign of trust, that she would hide even that from a stranger, but he still doesn't like to see her made uncomfortable. Leaning his staff against a tree, he walks around the fire. Each step is slow and smooth to keep from scaring the child.

"What brings you to my forest?" he asks, because he does have a reputation to maintain in front of the girl.

Housin shifts the girl in her arms, holding her up and forward, almost as if she's presenting her to Bloom. "I didn't know where else to bring her."

"Is she hurt?" Bloom reaches out reflexively to take the girl, but she whimpers softly, and Housin pulls her back against her chest. He raises his hands and takes a step back. "I'm not going to hurt you, little one."

"She is, but it doesn't need treating," Housin says. Then she adds, less shortly, "It could use some magic, but it can wait until she trusts you. I took her from parents who shouldn't have had her."

The outlines of the story appear at once in rough before him. Housin has been callous before about children in peril or pain, but that doesn't mean she likes to see it. She'd become more willing to take risks on their behalf with Bloom and Fifth Red Petal beside her--doing it anyway, as she'd once criticized them in her expressionless way--and he wouldn't be surprised in the least if she's continued that willingness alone. Or perhaps the kidnapping of this child didn't involve what she would consider risk. An unguarded moment in the market, or a night when the parents weren't home….

Or the parents' death, if she thought the offense bad enough. There's no blood on her, but Housin is very good at assassinations, and would be wise enough not to take the child in such a state. Nor to let her witness it in the first place.

Bloom nods, then crouches down a bit--he is quite tall, and alongside the horns and the red of his skin, the child has plenty of reason to be afraid of him--and smiles again at the girl. "Are you hungry?"

She peers at him with wide eyes. They're dark in this darkness, the firelight casting shadows across her face, but there's a thin rim of a lighter shade around the pupils that suggests they won't be in the sunlight. Her hand goes to her mouth, and he hears the softest, shiest "'s."

"Do you like stew? I have stew." Bloom doesn't wait for an answer, only turns back to the campfire and starts ladling the stew he'd been cooking into a bowl. He had meant it to simmer and cook down overnight, so it's quite watery, but he picks out big chunks of meat and tuber for her.

When he turns back with the bowl, he doesn't have to rise; Housin has set the girl down beside him. She takes the bowl and then retreats backwards, unsteadily, to the base of one of the trees. Standing there, she alternates between fishing chunks of tuber out of the bowl with her fingers and glancing at him with wide, wary eyes.

Even if she tries to run away from them, he'll know wherever she goes. Bloom lets her stand alone for the moment and looks up at Housin instead. She's looking between him and the girl, her face unreadable, but he thinks she's less tense.

"What's the tale with her?" he asks in a low voice, judging that the child isn't likely to hear from so far away, even with her half-elven ears.

Housin sinks down onto her own knees beside him to whisper regardless. "Her parents shouldn't have had her," she repeats. "But they were important enough that she'll be searched for. I couldn't take her to any of the places I usually do. They're all too close and too obvious. But I know your circle needs more initiates."

"That's true."

Bloom doesn't bother to tell Housin that they don't typically acquire their initiates by kidnapping. She knows the tale of his own path here too well to believe that they're beyond leveraging unfortunate circumstances to their advantage. And they are, indeed, desperate for new initiates. Those who think they want to be druids tend to seek out green places, places where their life and the power of the land is obvious to even the cityborn. Too many people think of this land as a waste, and too few are drawn to the subtle power and buried life within.

"Then you'll care for her."

It's not as if she's left him with a choice. Return the child to either of the nearby cities, and Housin is likely to end up in trouble for her deeds. Bloom trusts her judgement--if she thinks these parents deserved to lose their child, or possibly even die, then he doubts that she was wrong--but no guard or judge will do the same. He wouldn't do that to her even if the welfare of the child wasn't in question. Had there been a better recourse wherever the girl had come from, Housin would have taken it. Probably. He can't avoid the thought that this might have been done as much for him as for the girl.

"I will, but only if she wants to stay with me," Bloom warns her. "I know other circles that can convey her out of reach of anyone who might endanger her, and if she isn't suited for this land or doesn't come to trust me, I'll contact them and send her on."

"Good. She should have choices." Housin is leaning towards the fire, very slightly. It's not cold yet by Bloom's standards, but it is early autumn, and she's always chilled easily.

He puts an arm around her shoulders. There was a time when it had been a daring gesture, but now it feels natural. The only thing wrong about it is that Fifth Red Petal is missing on his, or her, other side.

She leans into him, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. Neither of them speak. Bloom watches the child out of the corner of his eye, and is sure Housin is doing the same, though she seems to be staring into the flames.

Eventually the girl finishes her stew and creeps over to them, setting the bowl down beside the fire and then scurrying around it to burrow into Housin's side. Housin puts an arm around her, careful and deliberate, in the same way that Bloom had put an arm around her. She looks up at Bloom, eyebrows rising with the same kind of deliberateness, and he nods, the affirmation she was looking for that that's the right move.

He wonders what had happened, exactly, that the girl so easily trusts this strange snake-scaled woman who had taken her away from home and kin. He wonders what harms he'll discover once she's willing to let him look at her more closely and pour healing magic into her skin. He wonders what other harms may not be clear on her skin at all, any more than most of Housin's own are.

There's time enough to find out, without pressing or frightening her. For now he flicks his cloak over both of them and wraps himself even more tightly around Housin and her small charge, feeling them both relax in the heat of his body and the fire. The food and the fire will lull the girl to sleep, and he'll follow after, and Housin, no doubt, will stay awake and alert half the night until he stirs to take over the watch, even though she knows that the forest itself will keep watch for them both. She's learned paranoia to deeply to trust what she herself can't see or hear or touch.

But she trusts him. With watch, with this child, with herself, still and almost relaxed beside him. Bloom is content to accept the honor of that.

***

Franzka: Fluff - 38. “You owe me.” “Fine, whatever you like.”

"The brazier," Isidor says, setting a tripod-bottomed brass bowl down on the table in front of them. "You were able to find the other supplies, I hope?"

"Charcoal, incense, herbs," Franzka declares, setting a jar of each atop the table with a trio of thuds. "Is there a special way I gotta mix 'em up, or do I just throw 'em all in?"

"There is an order to it. I'll show you how."

Isidor's huge blue hands are remarkably deft despite their size. He lights the charcoal with a snap of his fingers, then shows her how to sprinkle the incense and grind the dried herbs in her fingers before sprinkling them over the charcoal, too. Franzka follows his instructions about what to say and how to move with painstaking care. She gets a crick in her neck watching him, even standing on the chair, but she doesn't care.

The ritual takes an hour and change, and her voice is hoarse at the end of it. But in the last few seconds, as the flame dancing above the remains of the charcoal flickers and dies, as the smoke finishes dissipating, another form takes shape where the smoke had been. A tiny owl, round and brown, face and stomach dusted with white, barely larger than even Franzka's tiny gnomish fist.

"Hey, Firble," Franzka says. She knows the grin spreading across her face probably looks foolish, but she doesn't care. When she holds out her arm, the little saw-whet owl flutters in to land upon it.

It's been years, the tiny voice chirps in her head, loud out of proportion to her size even if it's only ringing inside Franzka's skull, and utterly indignant. You called me, I agreed to be yours, and then you didn't call me again for years!

"Sorry, Firble." Franzka pats the fluffy little head, and gets a nip for her pains, too small and delicate to really hurt. "We couldn't find one of those books again in a hurry, so I had to wait and learn how to call you like a wizard does. Thank Isidor, he's been showing me the ropes."

The owl turns a haughty gaze upon the stick-like figure of the Vedalken. No wonder it took so long. His kind have no sense of urgency.

"She says thank you," Franzka lies, and is rewarded by an accusatory chirp from the owl and a chuckle from Isidor. "Or she would if she had any manners. Sorry about that."

"I can hardly expect her to have Lelouch's dignity, when he has so much more room to fit that in," Isidor says graciously, echoed by a deep hoot from the great horned owl on his shoulder. Firble chirps again, even more angrily.

This is intolerable. You owe me for this indignity. A hundred years of scritching and mice. The finest mice you can buy, not those terrible mucky creatures from the sewers!

"Fine," Franzka says, laughing and patting Firble again. This time the owl bristles but endures it. "Whatever you want. I'm just glad to see you again."

Firble nestles down onto her arm, all her feathers fluffing up, and glares out through the puff of them around her round yellow eyes. I suppose being in your company again is tolerable.

***

Sudryal: Fluff - 24. “This reminded me of you.”

The pup is just old enough that he won't die outright without his mother's milk, though it will be touch-and-go. Sudryal gnaws on the tough meat of yesterday's dinner until it's soft enough to spit into the little wolf's mouth, then strokes his throat when he's slow to swallow. He's been hungry for so long, bereft of his parents and kin. It might be too late to save him at all.

Sudryal isn't going to give up, though. And neither, it seems, is the pup. More meat, a bit of water from his waterskin, as much healing magic as the little lupine body will absorb, and soon the wolf pup is wriggling in his arms, looking around in interest in between bouts of licking at Sudryal's face. Sudryal feeds him all the way to the rendevous.

"Oh!" Josephine exclaims as soon as she sees him. "A puppy!"

Perhaps it isn't a good idea to let her pet him--he shouldn't become a tame wolf, Sudryal's god whispers in the back of his head--but Sudryal would like a break from attending to him for one moment. So he hands the pup over and lets Josephine cuddle him while he helps Grai with the remaining tasks of setting up camp. The two of them had gotten here before for him, and there's not much left to take care of, but he fusses with the fire and adds a few herbs he'd gathered to the pot.

"So that's what your god sent you to do," Grai says, watching Josephine play with the pup. He's getting wriggly again, and when he wriggles out of Josephine's arms one last time, Grai picks up a stick from the pile of kindling for the fire and tosses it. The pup watches it arch over his head in incomprehension of the game, but he pounces on the stick once it lands and begins to wrestle with it, giving forth squeaky little growls.

He isn't supposed to speak of his god to an orc, but he's also not supposed to be traveling with an orc in the first place, so Sudryal nods. Grai won't pry beyond what he tells her. "Hunters killed his parents and either didn't realize the mother was with milk, or didn't care. They left the cubs to starve. The rest hadn't made it, but he's strong."

"He is strong," Grai agrees. The pup has dragged the stick over to Sudryal, still wrestling with it; Grai picks up the far end and begins a game of tug-of-war. "He'll survive."

"He will." Sudryal watches for a moment as the two of them wrestle, while Josephine settles down beside Grai and smiles at the play. Then he adds, because he hasn't been able to resist the silent comparisons, "He reminds me of you."

Grai glances over at him. She doesn't look curious, just faintly resigned. And it's true, that's one of the comparisons Sudryal had made in his head--the stubborn half-dead survivor who'd outlived the brutal death of kin. But there's another, sparked by Josphine's smile.

Sudryal lets the side of his mouth quirk up, just a little, as he nods towards the tiefling watching raptly as Grai and the wolf pup play. "He fell in fast with her."

That wins him a snort from Grai. He can tell she knows it's not the only parallel he'd seen. But then Josephine voices a giggling agreement, and she smiles over at her lover, and he knows she'll let him get away with the comparison.

[dandelion-wings]

Ooh… Diluc and Kaeya wingfic

Pretty much what it says on the tin! I'm not normally into wingfic as a trope, but I was gliding around in Mondstadt at one point and started thinking about what it would be like if the characters actually had wings, and then started worldbuilding on the concept, and ended up with an AU where everyone born in a nation with an archon has some kind of physical marker of their nationality--I'd figured out wings for Mondstadt (other nations still have gliders that imitate them, but Mondstadt folks get actual wings) and scales for Liyue, I'm still not sure exactly what Inazumans would have. (Though 'everyone can store a weapon inside them' would be kind of hilarious, ngl.) But if Kaeya is from a godless land and doesn't have any of those... it would make his origins a lot more obvious. And the Fatui do weird experiments on kids, as we know from the manga, so what if he got brand-new wings before he reached Mondstadt?

Originally it was supposed to be fairly light and entirely about Diluc teaching Kaeya to use his wings, and that's still the main throughline! But as I started writing it I realized how Kaeya's situation (he's never flown before, his wings are still brand-new so they hurt to touch, there's visible scars around them, he has no idea how to take care of them) and the story he gave Crepus in this AU (his mom was from Mondstadt and his dad from Natlan, his mom died when he was young, and his dad was taking him to Mondstadt to be among his own people and then... left him on the road with a fake excuse and vanished) would read to Crepus. So, uh, it developed a more serious subplot of Crepus being 100% convinced Kaeya's dad was an abusive bastard, and Kaeya slowly coming to terms with the fact that playing along with that is the best way to cement his position with the Ragnvindrs. WHOOPS. I can't just write cute things, apparently. XD;;

For a snippet, one of the places where those plots cross over:

"I wasn't allowed," he says, lies, because his father had told him this one to use. It sounds so much flimsier when he's saying it. "Since my mother wasn't around, there wasn't anyone to teach me. My father said he didn't want me to get hurt gliding."

"Not even to keep your balance? Or down stairs?" The young Ragnvindr looks aghast.

"No." Kaeya shakes his head. "I got in trouble if I spread them at all."

The older Ragnvindr has that thin-lipped look again, the one that has anger lurking behind it. Kaeya can guess by now who that anger's aimed at, and it doesn't make him want to bristle any less. Even when he hears what's coming out of his own mouth, the lies his father gave him, and it becomes even more clear that this was their purpose. It *does* sound bad, if someone already thinks that his father might have been cruel.

"You can't go your whole life without gliding!" The young Ragnvindr darts around him, in front of him, his wings half-spread, and grabs Kaeya's hands to hold him still when Kaeya starts to flinch back. "I'll teach you. Even if- when we find your father, he doesn't have to know. But until then, I'll teach you as much as I can. You deserve to know how to glide."

He says it with such innocent passion that it almost makes Kaeya feel guilty. But this is why he's here, isn't it? This is why his father arranged for him to get these wings. So that the Ragnvindrs will believe he's of Mondstadt, like them. And that, like them, he belongs upon the wind.