#who totally does have a backstory in this verse - i just haven't put it to paper yet

[quarantineddreamer]

hiiii, please tell me more about that TGP AU 👀 if you want to! would it follow the TGP storyline? does Jyn get switched up with someone else and Cassian her soulmate who reluctantly helps her? do they figure out the real truth and then fall in love every time no matter how many times their memory is rebooted? I'm so curious!! also there's actually a lovely TGP-inspired fic for rebelcaptain but the twist is that it's canon-verse post-Scarif and it's really just them healing in the afterlife

Hi sissi! I see we are sharing some RC brainrot today (this and boxing au) and I am SO here for it ahh! 💕

(Uhhh first of all do you happen to have a link to that fic cause would love to read it 👀)

I haven't thought too in-depth about The Good Place AU yet, but (~TGP spoilers ahead):

As in the show, both Jyn and Cassian technically 'don't belong' in the TGP--Jyn knows it, and Cassian isn't really sure, but he definitely thinks he doesn't belong.

Draven is our Michael-esque character who places Jyn and Cassian together as soul-mates (for torture purposes). Both think the other person is someone else, someone 'good' (haven't thought about specific careers, backstories just yet). (I know Draven could be Krennic, but I kinda liked the idea of a more morally-ambiguous character from canon being the architect of a fake good place.)

Kay is our Janet-esque character who believes he's doing good in running the afterlife and helping its inhabitants.

Chirrut and Baze are a part of this neighborhood as well, except they are legit residents and true soul-mates. Chirrut was a therapist kind of life-coach in life and hosts lecture-esque sessions for the neighborhood where he talks about how to continue to put good into the universe, find peace etc.

*Cassian and Jyn both find these lessons painful, because they assume the other totally understands/lived the way Chirrut teaches and it all seems so simple except they both know it's not and life is more complicated than that.

After listening to Chirrut for awhile, Jyn finally confesses to Cassian she doesn't think she belongs in TGP and asks him to help her in becoming a better person. He's pretty torn up about doing this because he seriously has a a hard time believing he's a good person, but he agrees to help if only to convince Jyn she's actually a good person who belongs in TGP.

I need to think more on how Bodhi/Baze fit into the story as well....

But I think the gist would be that eventually Jyn and Cassian both discover it's not the actual good place. They do get rebooted many times by Draven (and they fall in love every time 🥺 cause im a sucker for that), but eventually Kay let's slip that there is a map to the real good place and they decide to steal it with the help of the whole Rogue One crew (at risk of their eternal lives) to find the real good place and warn them about Draven.

[aenariasbookshelf]

Day two - an unexplainable predicament to explain

Crackfic week, day two: an unexplainable predicament to explain.  Follows directly on from yesterday’s Dreamsverse ficlet, which can be found here.  All the necessary notes for understanding the Dreamsverse can be found there also, especially the whole summer of 2012 and secret identity bits.  These are incredibly fun to write, and they’ve been a great balm for the soul these days, so all love to @dresupi for coming up with this idea.  Un-beta’ed and definitely not quality checked, because I am tired and this isn’t getting posted to AO3 just yet.

Someday I’ll write out how Darcy ended up being friends with Monica Rambeau in the Dreamsverse, but that won’t be today.  Today is for cracky goodness.  More author’s notes at the end of the ficlet, because spoilers. ;)

Day two - an unexplainable predicament to explain

It’s one of those days when Darcy is infinitely grateful she’s an office temp, because it means she’s not obligated to be upright and moving at the crack of dawn, unlike most of the people she knows.  The bad thing about crashing at Steve’s apartment after a night full of various suspect cocktails, however, is that there’s that one ray of blinding sunlight coming through the window that manages to drive a spike of pain right into her cranium.  She groans lowly, pulling Steve’s unoccupied pillow over her head to block the rest of the world out.

Darcy fully blames the judicious application of tequila the night before for her current state.  She and Jess had dragged Monica out to welcome her to the apartment, and they’d ended up at a hole in the wall bad somewhere on Smith Street, pounding back more shots than any sane person should.  Things got a little blurry after that.  At least from what little Darcy can recollect.  There may have been some wandering about, attempting to find the right subway station, she thinks.  Then there was also, possibly, an encounter with a police officer.  She remembers the blue uniform at least.

Eventually, they’d managed to pour themselves into a cab to get home, and once they got there Jess had leaned on Steve’s doorbell loud and long until he could “come show his drunken girlfriend a good time,” in the words of Jess and Monica at least.  Steve, however, was far too much of a gentleman to do anything out of sorts, much to Darcy’s chagrin, and she has some fuzzy memories of him sweeping her up into his arms, carrying her into his bed, stripping off her going out clothes, and making her drink some water and some pills before she collapsed totally.

There’s a small noise behind her, footsteps most likely, and she peels the pillow off of her head to see Steve walking into the bedroom, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.  “Oh my god; you’re the best,” Darcy groans.  With a powerful wince she pushes herself upright, holding her hands out for the life giving liquid.  

“I’d ask how you feel,” Steve says carefully, settling himself down on the bed next to her, “but I recognize that look of pain all too well.”

“Well, I don’t quite want to die,” Darcy mumbles.  Gingerly, she blows across the top of the mug and takes a sip, scorching her tongue just a little bit.  “But my head’s got a marching band in it and I don’t quite remember everything about last night.  So do with that what you will.”

“You were pretty giggly when you got in,” Steve confirms with an indulgent grin.  “But as soon as you hit the bed, you were out.”

“That sounds about right.”  She heaves a deep sigh, and looks down at the oversized shirt of Steve’s that’s become her pajamas when she stays over there (if she ends up wearing pajamas.  Which, admittedly, doesn’t happen all that frequently).  “I should shower.  Get the stink of last night off of me.”

There’s a sharp rap at the door, which makes both of their heads swivel in the direction of the sound.  “You expecting anyone?” Darcy asks.

“No.”  Steve pushes himself off the bed, jaw clenched, and leaves to go answer the door.  In the seconds it takes for that to happen, Darcy forces down the pain in her head and finds Steve’s bathrobe, to try and cover herself up a little more completely than just a t-shirt would.  By the time she’s covered up and her head poking out of the bedroom, Steve’s back with a rather smug looking Monica trailing behind him.  She holds up a loaded paper bag once she spots Darcy.  “I come bearing greasy breakfast sandwiches.  According to Jess it’s a traditional New York hangover breakfast.”

“Bless you,” Darcy sighs.  The grabby hands come out again and soon she’s tearing into the sandwich, cheesy bacon and eggs making themselves at home in her mouth.

“Figure you’d need that after last night anyway,” Monica says.  She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorway to the living room, a smirk stealing across her lips.  “You were having the best time out of all of us.”

“Don’t remind me,” Darcy grumbles, trying her hardest not to acknowledge the look of smug amusement Steve’s got on his face.  “Actually, please do, because my brain’s still fuzzy.”

Monica’s smirk grows even more, and Darcy can feel her stomach drop out from under her.  She blames it on the hangover.  “Oh, you mean where you almost got arrested for groping a statue?” she states, ever so casually.

“I what?!” Darcy chokes out, a bit of her sandwich getting lodged in her throat for just a moment.  She coughs to clear it out, but even over that she can hear Monica’s cackling.

“Wait, really?” Steve asks, and if Darcy wasn’t feeling as crap as she did she’d hit him for sounding far too amused at her predicament.

“Uh-huh,” Monica grins.  “So, apparently, or at least according to the legend the cop told me last night, because we know fuck all about the truth,” she begins, the Louisiana drawl in her voice becoming even more pronounced as she settles into her story, “Captain America’s a good ol’ local boy from around here, and so they put a statue up right in front of the Barclay’s Center downtown.  After we left the bar last night we got a little turned around and ended up in front of the subway stop there, which coincidentally has the statue placed right outside of it.”  She shrugs, giving Darcy a look that can only be called impish.  “You did say you were feeling affectionate.”

Darcy pointedly ignores the slight sounds of Steve’s disbelieving choking in the background in favor of gingerly taking the phone Monica’s handing her.  She winces again at the sight of the picture, featuring her in all of her glory, a shit eating grin on her face, a hand splayed over the star in the center of the bronze Cap’s chest, and a leg that looked like it was attempting to wrap across his thighs but instead just sort of crookedly draped over it.  “Oh, god,” she moans.  “I can explain?”

Steve’s still making those weird little choking noises in the background, but as Darcy’s pretty sure he’s not dying of embarrassment, she looks down at the picture again.  “Actually, I can’t explain?  Maybe the tequila can?  Or maybe I just wanted to pay homage to a local hero?  Because the pecs of freedom there are pretty impressive.”  She shakes her head, her fingers clenching around the cellphone.  The hysterical part of it all is that Darcy is fairly certain that her original, drunken statement of feeling affection was entirely accurate, because if she couldn’t have her boyfriend and his super duper secret identity hanging out with her on girls’ night, the bronze replica was the next best thing.  Even if, up close and personal, the statue didn’t look at all like Steve, really.

The memory is too little too late, but it’s enough to pass the warm flush taking over her cheeks off as embarrassment instead of affection.

“Can you send me a copy of that picture?” Steve asks, his voice breaking through her fuzzy thoughts.  

Before Darcy can react and delete the offending picture, Monica gleefully snatches her phone back and dashes the pic over to Steve, creating copies for all of them to enjoy.  “Public fucking menaces,” Darcy groans.

“You did say I needed to change my phone background from the default,” Steve points out, which sets Monica cackling again and Darcy burying her face in the nearest throw pillow because really, all of her friends were assholes.

**********

A/n: Okay, so while I may have fudged the real world dates a bit, the Captain America statue in Brooklyn is a real thing, and at one point in time it was actually located in front of the Barclay’s Center (and yeah, one time when I was meeting my sister and cousins there for a hockey game, I did in fact get a text saying that they were standing in front of the Captain America statue, which is probably one of the crackiest text messages I’ve ever received in my whole life, which is saying a lot).  The statue has since been moved to a new location, if I recall correctly, doing a tour of the borough before it lands in its permanent placement in Prospect Park.

Last I heard the Cap statue was set up in the entryway of a Bed, Bath, and Beyond way in the depths of Brooklyn in Sunset Park, of all places.  Only in Brooklyn, of course.

[rayroute-clear-saeran-text-sound]

Hello! Could you possibly do a ship for me? I'm a bit of a disaster potato. I love writing, drawing and baking. I'm a a fairy witch and tend to give way too many chances. I'm that person in the friend group who always seems to be running into misfortune, but I get back up and keep going. I am a meme lord and one of my hobbies is collecting Ball Jointed Dolls. I used to cosplay in college but haven't in years because of confidence issues around my weight. I'm nonbinary and pansexual. They/them.

Thank you so much for putting in a lot of care and detail into your description! It helps me out a lot :)

I pair you with Seven!

Seven would love the fact that you are well-versed in meme culture, which is what I feel would first draw him to you. But, as he got to know you better, he could relate to how misfortune seems to follow you.

He admires your ability to keep pushing through whatever challenge is in your way. He probably wants to help you as much as possible, and even if you say you don’t need it, he’ll give you assistance as discreetly as he can, because he knows what it’s like to struggle on your own.

 Because of his interest in cosplaying, he would slowly try and reintroduce you to it, always encouraging you. Obviously he wouldn’t want to pressure you into doing anything you aren’t comfortable with, so if you told him that you didn’t want to cosplay again, he would let it alone; he tries to be as sensitive as possible with your insecurities. 

 It’s Seven’s secret fantasy to go to a convention with you in a couple’s cosplay that would give him the opportunity to cross-dress. He’ll cosplay your favorite characters when you’re sad, and take you out on a date while pretending to be that character to try to make you laugh.

 He honestly is so fascinated with your hobby of collecting Ball Jointed Dolls. He could sit there for hours while you explain it to him, and sometimes he would gift you one out of the blue. He probably comes up with all sorts of weird names for them, as well as strange backstories for each one.

 He knows that you’ve been taken for granted in the past, and about your tendency to forgive past the point of reason. He can’t help himself from getting prickly whenever you talk about those who had taken advantage of your many chances, and would be trying to press for information about them so he could give them a little “gift” through hacking. As for chances with him, he intends to only need one. He also tends to let you know when a person is past the stage of forgiveness, and tries to remind you that people don’t deserve an endless stream of chances. 

 This poor baby just really doesn’t want to see you hurt, because even if he couldn’t protect Saeran, he wants to protect you. Whether that be physical, emotional, or mental protection, he wants to give it all to you.

 You would try to get him to eat other things than just chips and soda by beginning to bake for him, a plan that ended up backfiring since he then became addicted to your treats. You finally put a ban on baking for him unless he would bake with you, which he reluctantly agreed to, and at first he pouted about it but soon found that he was enjoying your hobby too. It wasn’t necessarily the baking in itself he liked, it was more seeing you happy while doing something you love that attracted him to it.

 Let’s be honest, most of your baking sessions would turn into food fights because of the redheaded brat. Or, if you were making cookies, you’d turn your attention on something else for a moment, and the next thing you knew, half of your batter would be gone. The same thing would happen with the frosting for cakes and cupcakes. 

 You would draw a lot of his cosplays for him as gifts, and this cutie would have them all framed or hanging up by his desk where he works. Even if you insisted they were bad, he would vehemently protest that statement. He was putting every single one up damnit, so what if he had no more wall space, he would make it the fucking wallpaper in his room if he had to. Always sends every one of your drawings to the messenger, trying to flex on everyone with his SO’s amazing art. 

 Honestly anything you draw, whether it be animals, landscapes, anime characters, whatever, he would love and ask for. If you wanted to keep it he was okay with that, but he could never get enough of your art.

 You and him would start a habit of writing stories together, because once he found out that it was something you loved to do, he totally cashed in on it. He was always good at coming up with the wacky stories and plotlines, and you would bring the finesse. 

 Whenever he didn’t feel like working but wanted it to look like he was, he would start a Google Doc with you so you could write together. Vanderwood would catch him sometimes, and boy would there be hell to pay but to the hacker it was so worth it.

 Convinces you to write a novel with him, and once you two finish it he tries to get Jumin to publish it, but he won’t. He surprises you for a special day by hacking a publishing company, and gets one copy professionally made for you. Having a boyfriend who is rich and can hack with no sense of morality has its perks.

 Half of your communication over text would be through memes. Expect lots of cat memes, along with some cryptic ones, and an absolute overload of love memes from him. Memes are sent to you daily.

 Always tries to text you good morning and good night when he’s not on a mission, even if he hasn’t slept yet. Sometimes, you’ll receive a good night text in the middle of the afternoon, because when he hasn’t slept in a day or so he tends to lose all concept of time. 

Sends you the dumbest pickup lines to make you laugh, and if that doesn’t work he sends you love meme Tik Toks. He does this to the point where it becomes borderline obnoxious, but still knows when to stop before you get irritated for real.

 If he’s been staring at code and hacking for too long, he’ll text you his apologies for not being able to talk to you much, but half the time when this happens it’s in binary, not even on purpose, it’s just that he’s been typing it for probably 40-some hours straight.

"C’mon, Talyn.~” Seven called to you from his couch, where he was currently spawled out. “Please?” You rolled your eyes from the kitchen, disappointed but not surprised to find only chips and soda, although there were baking ingredients courtesy of yourself. 

“Not unless you get your ass up here and help, dipshit.” You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing as you already began to drag out ingredients for basic chocolate chip cookies, which Seven enjoyed. You heard your troublemaking boyfriend groan dramatically from his spot on the couch, but he got up nonetheless. 

“You know I don’t like to cook.” He muttered as he trudged to join you in the kitchen. 

“It’s not cooking, it’s baking. There’s a difference.” You tapped him lightly on the nose with a spoon. He began to help you pour the dry ingredients together into a large bowl, eyes flitting between his task and the bag of chocolate chips.

“Have you ever considered that I’m just not good at it?” He asked, fighting the smile that tugged at his lips.

“I thought God7 was good at everything.” You teased as you mixed the wet ingredients in with the dry. 

“Talyn, why must you wound me in this way?” He heaved a forceful sigh, and although his face looked melancholy, his eyes betrayed his true happiness in the moment with you. “I just want sugar now, baking takes forever.” You chuckled at his impatience. His ADHD was partially the cause of his reluctance to spend time on a task that isn’t exactly quick. 

“You’re fine.” You took note of his eyes meandering their way over to the chocolate chips once more. “Don’t you dare-”

“Modern problems require modern solutions.” He cackled in laughter as he grabbed the bag of chocolate chips before you could stop him, sprinting off to his room. “Catch me if you can!” He called over his shoulder, popping a handful of the sweet chocolate into his mouth. 

“No cookies for you!” You sighed as you heard the door to his room close, deciding what to do with the unfinished batter.