#And to think about the ripple effects of an AU

[erisenyo]

I'm the 'facets anon' and while I absolutely LOVED your answer, I think I formulated the question wrong.

With 'How many facets can a character lose to still be considered the same character and not just someone with the same name?' I wished to ask how many aspects of a character can be changed from the get go.

F.E. if Zuko was an only earthbending child who grew up on a farm with only a mother can he really be considered Zuko?

I will admit that my question wasn't motivated by the ATLA Fandom, but you're one of my favorite authors, so I wished to gather your opinion

Ohhh interesting question anon! Basically, how much of an AU can your AU be before it's becoming original fiction?

I hate to say that the answer is 'it depends'...but I think it depends on what you consider to be the "core" aspects of the character, and how thoughtful the author is about understanding the impact of any changes. The line between "unrecognizable AU" and "character study" hinges a LOT on the author's awareness of what's changing.

Sticking with the Zuko example -

is it his history/backstory? (Zuko in any world needs to have an absent mother, an abusive father, be cast out of home/his family and try to return to it?)

Is it his characterization? (Zuko in any world needs to have huge big emotions, a heart of goodness, the need to please, a determination to do well, stubborness?)

Is it his narrative growth? (Zuko in any world needs to grapple with his identity and place in the world, needs to learn to trust his own judgment and ethics?)

(There are probably other categories as well)

I think you can change a lot of those, and still be writing 'Zuko', as long as you're very clear to your reader what you're changing. But you probably do need to hold *some* of the above constant, and I can see what that constant piece is flexing depending on what's changed.

For example - a world where Ozai died when Zuko was a baby, Azulon decided to broker peace decades ago, and now Zuko isn't heir, grew up with affirmation and positivity in his life that allowed his goodness to blossom (aka, change his entire backstory, put him in an environment where different aspects of his character come to the fore)...You are probably still going to be dealing with the same narrative arcs (who am I, what's my place in the world, learning to trust himself), and the other character traits that come to the fore will still be (or should be) his character traits (not brand new ones).

Even if you go "what if Zuko is everything Ozai wants him to be"...you're probably going to end up in a similar place arc-wise and and personality-wise, because of who *Ozai* is, and Azula, and Ursa

And if you're going okay, Zuko is totally different and so is everyone around him and so is the world and so is the family history/dynamics and so is the plot...then you're probably in original fiction territory, because you haven't held any aspect of canon constant, and it's probably no longer in conversation with canon if you're changing every aspect of canon.

So for it to stay 'Zuko', I'd say it comes down to 1) are you clear on what is still tied to canon, 2) are you clear on what you're changing, and 3) are you clear on how those changes are going to impact other elements of the character/other characters/plot/etc.

And the better you are at explaining those changes and their impact, the more you're going to be able to change and still have things feel tied to canon, because you're bringing your reader along with you.

Even if you don't change much, if you just dump me into a 'this Zuko had loving support as a child' AU, I'm going to be confused because I am in an alternate universe without understanding *what* is alternate.

But if you are changing the setting, the family relationships, the plot, and then seeing how Zuko's character changes as a result...now it's a character study! We love character studies!

So your "Zuko as an only earthbending child who grew up on a farm with only a mother" example *could* still be Zuko, depending on how critical you think firebending vs earthbending is to his character, palace royalty vs common origins, an abusive family dynamic, being an older brother.

I can see ways to make it work (he's still full of huge emotions, struggles with his place in the world, wants to matter and make an impact but doesn't know how, feels like he can't live up to the expectations on him but is going to try anyway even if it kills him, feels like his bending will never be good enough, wants to fight in the war)--I just need to bring the reader along with me.

[kivaember]

AC6 AU where the positions of Raven and Rusty are switched?

hum, way I see this working is like...

Rusty failed to infiltrate the Vespers and instead pivoted to being an independent mercenary to forge contacts and get money to send back to Rubicon, before returning when the corps started moving on Rubicon in earnest.

621 would be a Vesper because he ended up being purchased by Arquebus, and is considered valuable because of his CIT origins. He moonlights as a research specimen and then is put to work as a terrifyingly adept killer too. Probably V.IV as well, but no one uses the rank and just called him "Asset" or "the mutt" (snail). While the Vespers enjoy some level of autonomy, 621 has none and is essentially treated like wetware for his AC when they land on Rubicon.

Plot can be, smth smth, Rusty notices how 621 is treated amongst the Vespers, and deduces that he's basically an indentured slave. Decides to try and break him free from Vesper bondage and get him on the RLF side. As for Walter, hmm maybe his three hounds survived, so he's on Rubicon with them...

Man the whole story would be different.. (puts this brainworm in a jar for later)

[headphonemouse]

no but fr the reading experience is so much better when you have no idea what he looks like, he goes from 'extremely average office worker that anyone could relate to' to 'oh he's a bit insane actually' to 'oh he's got some trauma' 'a lot of trauma' 'goddamn' 'he's still just some guy though' the part about him being unremarkable yet so loved is essential to the message that you can store so much goddamn love in one person simply because they exist. existing is enough. his thin hair strands, his pale cheeks, his starry eyes, none of it matters if not for the fact that they're his

Prediction for when print copies of ORV hit the discount bookshelves

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Degradation. Fingersucking. Creampie. Modern AU

Everyone, please have a wonderful holiday! Credit to @cyberprimeyt for the inspiration. Idea one of two. I hope I did better with this one.

Absolutely no boys, not even as friends. Your parents were very firm about that. And they absolutely did not like Scaramouche. Pulling teeth would've been easier than convincing your parents to let him come over. You had an ace up your sleeve, though.

It was for the sake of school. A project worth half your grade to be done over the course of a week.

You glanced at the time on your phone, and sighed. "You'd better go. It's almost 8pm," You forlornly started to close your notebooks and folders, "If you stay even a minute past, I am never gonna be able to convince my parents to let you come over again," You shot him a wobbly smile.

Scaramouche scoffed, making no move to start gathering his stuff up. You felt a ripple of panic shoot through you. "I'll call you tonight, okay?" You added.

"Do you do everything your parents tell you?" His question was very straightforward, and it was totally met to be a taunt. It worked judging from the way your cheeks flushed.

"Well, I.." It was difficult for you to answer this. You are so in love with Scaramouche that it hurt. Too bad your parents didn't give a flying fuck. "You know how it is. Their house, their rules." It was like a knife through your heart to say this.

Scaramouche already knew your innocence made you naive and weak. He knew you were even weaker for him. It was easy for him to work his charm on you and land you in the position that you were in now: naked and whimpering with Scaramouche's cock skewering you from behind.

You clawed at the sheets, tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure of his cock nudging relentlessly into your spongy spot. Your hand struggled to cover your mouth, a sharp jolt of pleasure going straight to your throbbing clit. Shaky moans steadily rising in octave bubbled up in throat.

As much as Scaramouche would've loved to hear you carry on, sounding so sweet and on the verge of screaming for him, he knew you had to be put in check. "What would your parents think if they heard you moaning like a slut, impaled on my cock?" His taunt was blanketed in a husky moan. He could barely swallow his own moans, your pussy was clutching tight and perfect like a glove on his pulsing cock.

He swallowed back a groan feeling your walls squeezed that much tighter hearing his degradation. Who knew such a good girl enjoyed being degraded? "As much as I love reducing you to a cock drunk whore, you are going to get us caught," He hissed, pumping his cock deeper inside of you to hear one more blissed out whimper before he effectively silence you.

To an extent, anyways.

Grabbing a handful of your hair, he pulled your head up off your drool soaked pillows. "Here, suck," He commanded, pushing two fingers between your lips and into your mouth.

Your tongue immediately curled to lap around his fingers. He pressed down on your tongue, pushing his fingers into your throat. Successfully muffling your choked moan. "Good girl," He cooed quietly, pumping his fingers into your mouth, encouraging you to suck more eagerly, "Suck like a good girl while I cum inside your needy cunt."

Drool pooled from your mouth as you happily sucked on his fingers, muffling soft moans as you pushed your hips back into his cock. His degrading praise always spoke volumes, you were needy and drooling for him.

Scaramouche let the act of chasing his high completely consume him. With your moans as muffled as they are, he pounded his cock into your sloppy cunt, swallowing back groans and quiet moans until his cock pulsed cum inside of you.

He knew he could make you scream properly for him at his house. He didn't give a shit if his mom heard him.

[miupow]

「 ♫ 」 ── 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

you hated minho with everything you had, but you just couldn't stop yourself from coming back for more again and again... he was just so sexy when he was jealous, and no one else made you feel the way he did.

PAIRING ── lee know x fem!reader

RATING ── NSFW, MDNI !

WARNINGS ── college au, fwb!minho, frat boy!skz, toxic and possessive behavior, jealousy, he’s very mean in this im ngl, oral (m. rec), face-fucking, dirty talk, mean dom!lino, degredation kink and name-calling, humiliation kink, slut-shaming, facials, non-consentual photo-taking, i really mean it guys lino is not a good guy

WORDS ── 1.8k

A/N ── an old deleted work i've rewritten for toxic sneaky link minho hehe >< hope you enjoy!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you ♡

taglist: @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @linocz , @skzooluvr

Minho's white-knuckle grip on your wrist was bruising, his blunt nails threatening to leave little stinging crescents dug into your skin-- you bit your lip to mask your giddy, triumphant smile as he tugged you into the spare bathroom, dragged you through the pulsating crowd as you tripped over your strappy heels. He only let go of you to slam the door shut and lock it swiftly behind him, his wild, firey eyes and grit-tooth scowl melting away to the bored and emotionless glare you were all to familiar with. It pierced through your vodka-soaked confidence in an instant, sent you reeling and scrambling for words to say as a dull throbbing took ahold at the base of your wrist, just over your pulse point. The flourescent lights of the bathroom made your eyes sting, too adjusted to the dark of the party outside-- it just made you struggle even more to look Minho in the eye. He always made you feel so small, towering over you and looking down at you as if you were nothing at all... and you hated it more than anything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you spat, rubbing your wrist, fighting to keep your strength as you leveled with his gaze. It wasn't like you to hold your ground like this-- you can tell it throws Minho off, pisses him off even further as he bullies his way into your personal space. The music that had been nearly deafening just moments before had been muffled into obscurity, stripped away to a booming bassline that nearly shook the floor; it reverberated through your body still, a thrumming under your skin that left you restless, nervous. Minho could read it all over your face.

“Excuse me?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed back venomously, taller frame advancing on you quickly. His arms come to brace themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you against the sink-- he crowds your vision, his warm breath fanning across your face, and you try desperately to look anywhere except into his deep dark eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—" you began, as sturdy as you could, but Minho's rough, humorless laugh cuts you off. His hands grip either side of the sink with force, and you can see the veins in his forearms ripple under the fabric of his rolled-up jacket sleeves.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” there was something all too familiar about this, Minho’s voice poisoning and dripping with something that makes your thighs shake and rub together— those long fingers you came to hate and adore grabbed ahold of your chin, squeezing your plush cheeks together as he forced your eyes to meet his. a broken, barely-there whimper sneaks it’s way past your pursed lips. “Are you trying to piss me off? Is that it? Whoring around with other guys right in fucking front of me?!”

“We were just talking—“

Minho sneers. “Sure you were, rubbing up all over him and talking all sweet while dressed like a fuckin’ slut.”

He spits the words out like it was a nasty secret, jolting through you with a sickening shock— your cheeks flush hot between Minho’s cold fingers, your panties growing damp embarrassingly quickly, molded to your wet pussy folds… you loved it when Minho was jealous, loved how to see just how nasty you would make him when you hit him where it hurt.

And maybe you loved it because it proved to you, in some sick, backwards way, that Minho even cared about you at all.

“I’m not dressed like a whore,” you retort weakly, sounding far more petulant and pathetic than you meant to.

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at you, shit. So damn beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

Minho let go of your face and backed away to take in your skin-tight dress, picked with care for the stupid frat party he had pulled you away from, the one that you didn't even want to go to— your hands twitched with the urge to cross your arms, hide and protect yourself in some way from Minho's piercing stare. Your little red dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, thin gold necklace sitting pretty just above the cleavage of your plush tits, spilling out over a push-up bra. Your outfit is complete with deep crimson lipstick painted on your quivering lips— Minho stared at them, wild and hungry, and it takes everything you have not to moan aloud.

"Slutty girl," Minho hummed, hand sliding up to caress at your exposed thigh. “So desperate for my attention… Gotta go whore yourself out so you can get put back in your fucking place? Remind you who you belong to?"

"I don't belong to you." You snapped. "We're not together, Minho-- you don't get to act like this when I see you with a different girl every week."

Minho just laughed, mean and ugly and right in your face, grabbing a rough handful of your thigh and squeezing. "Oh yeah?" he goads, the smirk on his lips doing little to hide the rage in his eyes. "You’re the one who keeps coming back for more, baby— just can’t live without this cock, huh? Constantly telling me it's over then crawling back into my bed. you’re not my girl but that pussy’s mine.”

"Fuck you," you spat, tears in your eyes.

Minho grinned venomously, opening up a pit in your stomach; his thumb ghosted across your skin, inched it's way underneath your dress, leaving a line of fire in it's wake. "Yeah, I know you want to."

You whimpered, torn halfway between pushing him off of you and begging for his touch-- the latter wins, despite all of your anger, your conflicted feelings. It always does. "please, Min--" you plead, desperate and wobbly, unsure of what you're even begging for.

"Get on your knees."

And like the slut you are, your knees hit the cold tile floor without any protest.

You were met immediately with the sight of Minho’s hard on, the outline of his thick cock straining the fly of his jeans. "'Atta girl,” Minho hummed, his voice low, one hand coming to cup your head and the other reaching to fumble with his belt. He looks his prettiest like this, you think, towering above you. Commanding attention and respect, no matter how lowly he treated you. He tugged his belt open, leaves it dangling from his belt loops, quick and rough in unzipping his fly; your mouth watered, eyes wide and hazy as you watch him pull his stiff cock out of his boxers, his shaft slapping obscenely against his belly. “Gonna fuck your face, gonna ruin that pretty throat— open wide, baby.”

His cock was flushed pretty pink and leaking precum, flared tip shiny and throbbing, begging for your tongue— you wasted no time to trail chaste kitten licks over the dripping slit, relish in the way Minho’s breath hitches from the feeling, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes in rapture, lose yourself in the salty, bitter taste of his shaft… and Minho grunted low in his throat, tightened around a fistful of your hair and pulled you back off his dick harshly, shaking you out of your reverie and knocking you nearly on your ass in surprise.

“Said I was gonna fuck your throat, stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth and stop teasing.”

Rougher than usual, he pushed you back to take his cock into your mouth, shoved you all the way down to his twitching balls. You gagged violently, tears collecting in your lash lines. “There we go,” Minho hissed, the hand in your hair rubbing soothingly over your burning scalp. “Take it like a good girl.”

He began to thrust into your throat in true earnest, uncaring for your comfort, heavy balls slapping against your chin in a dizzying rhythm— your whines and whimpers were muffled by his cock, nasty wet noises filling the bathroom as your boyfriend uses you like a toy; the perfect backing vocals for the slow song playing outside. “Shit!” Minho whined, his hips stuttering, your nose bumping up against his pelvis— your lips left smeared red marks along his shaft and the base of his dick, and some sick satisfaction bubbles up inside of you, makes you smile around the cock fucking your throat open; while Minho ruins your makeup, leaves you gasping, drooling and choking, you’re marking him up too. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl--!"

Your pussy throbbed, empty and aching, and it registered somewhere in the back of your mind that you were crying, hot tears and ruined mascara streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minho fucked your face. "I'm-- shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna take it, yeah? Gonna make everyone know you're mine, all mine-- fuck, 'm cumming--!"

Your eyes rolled back in delight, pretty painted mouth opening impossibly wider in preparation to take his load, but it never came— to your shock and awe, Minho pulled you off of his cock with a sickening pop, just seconds before rope after rope of hot, thick semen shoots all over your face. On your nose, cheeks, chin, some droplets falling on the flat of your tongue— you moaned at the taste despite the abject horror settling in your chest. And you watch, wide eyed and too dazed and dizzy to fight back, as Minho pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. He smirked down at his phone screen before turning it around for you to see.

You were a mess. Your hair was disheveled, tangled everywhere from Minho’s hands. Your makeup was ruined, all over your face in tear-stained streaks... your face was pink and blotchy, shiny with splatterings of Minho’s cum, and your lipstick was smeared across your cheek, nearly to your ear. You gasped, frozen in place, unable to react any other way... Minho's smirk broke into a laugh, hollow and evil and eating you alive.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Minho snickered, sliding his phone back in his back pocket. "Might just have to show you off-- such a pretty picture deserves to be shared, don't you think?"

He’s quick to tuck his soft— still lipstick stained— cock back into his jeans and buckle back up his belt, fix his hair in the mirror. He looks a little sweaty but otherwise well-kept, and you wish now that you had kissed him more, marked up his face and neck with lipstick too and not just his dick, when you had the chance. "Clean yourself up, won’t you? You look like a mess.” 

And with that, Minho unlocked  the door and stepped  out of the bathroom, shutting it behind him with a dull click. 

[jesncin]

I really hope this doesn’t come across as rude, but why did you decide to make Lex Luthor, whose motivation is basically racism and xenophobia from my understanding, a person of color? This isn’t like, a criticism, more just, I really like your JL remix stuff and you usually have cool reasons for the stuff you change, so I was surprised by this one

I understand the curiosity! But I have to point out that "you usually have cool reasons for the stuff you change, so I was surprised by this one" made me laugh, haha. Long answer coming because I have a lot of feelings- but the point in the very end is worth it, trust me.

So for one, Lex is Afro-Greek in my version. This comes from the popular headcanon that STAS/DCAU Lex is Black (and his design is based on a Greek man). His character design, skin tone, and Clancy Brown's enigmatic performance became unintentional perceived representation for Black fans (and even DC writers). And now in the Harley Quinn show, that's become canonized! For why they like it, that's not my place to say as a non-Black person- so I listen!

I don't agree that Lex's motivation is "basically racism and xenophobia"- his themes are much broader than that. It's the desire to be the Man of Tomorrow, his jealousy of Superman, the way his intellect alone is a match against Superman's strength. Sometimes that jealousy is expressed through bigotry, but it's all a means to an end for Lex. My approach is: if Lex being Black is something we want to integrate more into his character, what opportunities does that open up narratively? Because there's rich potential for him and the characters connected to him.

When discussing MAWS I talk a lot about how when you're writing a bigoted marginalized character, there needs to be specifity with where that internalized bigotry is coming from. So a change like that for Lex Luthor could, for example; discuss how privileges like wealth can assimilate otherwise marginalized people into the kind of power that harms others in their community.

The ripple affect this has on a character like Superboy/Conner is that we get to see how -even though they're both Luthors- Conner is profiled, othered and further marginalized as a Kryptonian and a Black homeless teen because he doesn't get to benefit from any of Lex's privileges. This is just part of the many reasons why I think Conner would be infinitely more interesting if he didn't look like Kal El despite being a clone. You get to see a new intersection of how the Kryptonian identity intersects with Blackness on Earth. The potential ripple effect for a character like Lena is also really fun! What if she's struggling with her own model minority pressure when she's making up for her brother's crimes? It's all very compelling!

And MOST importantly, in a 3 trillion IQ Lex Luthor-style move-making Lex Luthor Black means that some version of Matt Fraction & Steve Lieber's Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen arc exists in my au. Which famously hinges on the twist that LEX LUTHOR AND JIMMY OLSEN ARE DISTANTLY RELATED. THEREFORE!!! We have now found a convoluted way to have Wacky Renaissance Artist Jimmy Olsen connected to The Manifestation Of Black Excellence Evil Edition Lex Luthor in this au.

[callmedaleelah]

i’m gonna love you like it’s the last night

[ suguru geto psychological fiction au series ] - i

author’s note ; angst, mental health issues, heartbreak trope, long written chapter, no mention of (y/n), english is not my first language

[ master-list ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sit in the hospital’s waiting area, legs crossed, fingers nervously tapping the armrest of the chair. The room smells like antiseptic, its harsh, sterile scent settling uncomfortably in your nose. The gentle murmur of people coming and going barely registers; your mind is occupied by the weight of your thoughts.

It’s been six months since you were discharged from the psychiatric hospital, and today’s therapy session was just a routine check-in. But your thoughts have been restless, especially after a particularly sleepless night. The weight of the past still lingers. You’ve made progress, sure, but some wounds take more time to heal than others.

You’re staring blankly at the receptionist's desk when you hear a familiar sound—a low, deep voice that pulls you out of your head. Your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head slightly, just enough to see him from the corner of your eye.

Suguru.

He’s walking down the hallway, flanked by a few others who seem engrossed in conversation with him. Dressed in a tailored suit, he looks striking, his presence commanding the space. His long hair is slicked back, and even from a distance, you can tell that time has been kind to him. Too kind.

The sight of him, so composed, so put together, is like a punch to your chest. Your throat tightens, your hands clamp together as they grow cold, and you force yourself to stare down at your lap. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding in your ears so loudly that it drowns out everything else.

After two years—two long, agonizing years—you never expected to see him again, let alone here, in a place that has become so intricately tied to your pain and healing. You want to disappear. You want him to walk past without seeing you, without knowing how far you’ve fallen since the last time you spoke.

But then, as if defying your silent prayer, you hear the unmistakable sound of his footsteps approaching. The air feels thick, heavy, almost suffocating, as his shoes come into view in front of you.

You freeze.

There’s no escape.

"I didn’t expect to meet you here," Suguru’s voice, calm and steady, cuts through the thick tension. It’s too familiar, yet it feels distant—like a memory you’ve tried so hard to bury. His presence is overwhelming, and before you can process what’s happening, he sits beside you.

Your body tenses, every muscle tightening in a futile attempt to hold yourself together. The room feels too small, the air too thin. You glance at him, briefly, and then back down at your hands, struggling to find something—anything—to say. Your throat feels dry, your palms sweating.

“Probably because you didn’t expect to see me at all,” you finally manage, trying to inject a bit of humor into your words, but your voice is shaky. You’re not sure if the joke lands, but you see the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.

The sight of that smile does something to you—it sends a ripple of old, buried emotions surging to the surface, emotions you’ve spent months trying to suppress. He still has that effect on you. And that terrifies you.

Suguru’s eyes, dark and intense, flicker with a hint of something—surprise, maybe? But he quickly masks it, just like he always does. His calm demeanor never falters. He was always so composed, always in control, and now, sitting next to you, he’s no different. He looks so calm, so unaffected, while you feel like you’re barely keeping it together.

"How are you doing?" he asks gently, his voice soft but probing.

You hesitate. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you think about lying, about brushing off the question with a simple, empty answer. But something in his gaze makes you pause, forces you to confront the truth that’s been gnawing at you for so long.

“You mean how I’m doing recently or how I’m doing after you, you know—” you glance at him, giving him a small, awkward smile. “—left me.”

The words hang between you like a fragile thread, and for a second, you see his composed mask crack. Just a little. His eyes widen, barely noticeable, but it’s there. He wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

He regains his composure quickly, nodding slightly, his calm exterior firmly back in place.

"If you mean how I’m doing recently, I’m fine," you continue, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, I found a new hobby.”

Suguru’s brow arches, a faint look of curiosity crossing his face. "Oh? What is it?"

You let out a dry laugh, more for your own comfort than anything else. “Running. It clears my mind, you know? I only think about managing my breath."

You watch as Suguru chuckles softly at your words, the sound sending a pang through your chest. It’s almost too much—this casual conversation, this normalcy, when everything between you feels so broken.

Then, his voice lowers, and with a slight tilt of his head, he asks the question you were dreading.

"And how were you doing after, you know—i left you?"

For a moment, everything stops. The world narrows down to just you and him, sitting side by side in that cold, sterile hospital waiting room. You blink, trying to process his words, but it feels like they’ve stabbed you in the chest.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to answer. “I don’t really remember much about it,” you say, your voice quieter now. “But long story short, I survived.”

There’s a pause. A long, excruciating pause, where neither of you speaks. Your heart is racing, and your palms are sweating again, but you keep your gaze fixed on your hands, avoiding his eyes at all costs. You can feel the weight of his stare on you, the intensity of it burning into your skin.

Suguru shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers twitching as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. His presence is overwhelming, and every second that passes feels like an eternity.

"And how are you doing, Suguru?" you ask, your voice strained. Saying his name again feels wrong. It feels foreign on your tongue, like something you shouldn’t be saying anymore.

"I’m good," he answers quickly, too quickly. "Been busy with work.”

You nod, but his words hit you harder than you expect. "Good." He’s been good. Meanwhile, you’ve been drowning, barely keeping your head above water, and he’s been fine.

You nod, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the tightness in your chest tells a different story. The words “I’m good” echo in your mind like a cruel reminder of the contrast between his life and yours. You bounce your leg nervously, wishing your name would be called, wishing this awkwardness would end. Every second with him feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, and you’re one wrong word away from falling apart.

“Then I better not hold you up from work,” you mumble, your voice barely audible. You glance down at the floor, avoiding his eyes again, but you can still feel his gaze on you. It’s heavy, lingering, like he’s searching for something in your expression that you can’t afford to give.

Suguru hesitates, as if he’s contemplating whether to stay or leave. His fingers drum lightly on the armrest, a nervous habit you recognize from the past. But finally, he speaks again, his voice low, almost cautious.

“Why are you here?”

You freeze at the question. The truth is something you’ve been avoiding, even with yourself, but there’s no way to dodge it now. You take a deep breath, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you try to summon the courage to speak.

“Therapy,” you say softly, still not looking at him. The word feels raw on your tongue, exposing a vulnerability you’ve tried so hard to hide. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—broken, fragile, not the person you once were.

“Oh,” is all he manages, and the silence that follows is suffocating.

You can feel the shift in him, the weight of his realization settling between you. His calm facade falters for just a second, but it’s enough for you to catch the flash of pain in his eyes. His jaw tightens, and he looks down, as if trying to make sense of it all.

You clear your throat, trying to break the tension, but the lump in your throat remains. “How’s work?” you ask, your voice shaky. Anything to steer the conversation away from your mental health. You’re not ready for that. Not with him.

Suguru’s expression softens, though his eyes are still clouded with concern. “Busy,” he repeats, though it feels more like a reflex than an actual answer. “Our company’s expanding, working with medical institutions. That’s why I’m here.”

“Sounds important,” you say, your voice strained as you force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

He nods, but you can see the discomfort in his posture. He shifts in his seat again, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to. The Suguru you knew was always in control, always calm and collected, but now there’s a tension between you that neither of you can ignore.

“How was university?” he asks, as if searching for a safe topic, a neutral ground where things won’t feel so heavy. “I’m sorry i didn’t come to your graduation last year like i… promised,”

You wince at the question, and for a moment, you don’t answer. It’s not something you want to talk about, not here, not now. But you know you can’t avoid it forever. You force yourself to meet his gaze, and when you do, you see the faintest flicker of worry in his eyes.

“No, it’s okay—I haven’t graduated,” you admit quietly, and his eyes widen in surprise. “I dropped out last year.”

The shock on his face is palpable, and for the first time since he sat down, you see his calm facade crack completely. “What?”

You swallow hard, the words coming out thick, like they’re stuck in your throat. “Last year… was harder than I expected. My cognitive function got… messed up. That’s what the doctors said, after my aunt brought me to the psychiatric hospital.”

Suguru blinks, his expression unreadable as the reality of your situation sinks in. His eyes are glistening now, but he blinks quickly, forcing back the tears that threaten to spill. You’ve never seen him cry—not once in all the years you knew him. But the sight of him fighting his emotions now nearly breaks you.

You force yourself to keep going, though your chest feels tight, like there’s a weight pressing down on you. “I couldn’t… think. I couldn’t focus on anything.” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat as tears well up in your eyes. “I thought… losing you was hard enough. But then I tried to live without you and… it was worse.”

Your voice cracks at the last word, and you quickly wipe away a tear that escapes down your cheek. The silence between you feels unbearable now, the weight of your words settling into the space like a heavy fog.

“I didn’t know there was life after you, Suguru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed. But other nights… I wanted to sleep forever. It was like I couldn’t control anything—my mind, my body. It was all too much.”

You finally meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes breaks something inside you. His calm exterior is gone now, replaced by raw emotion, his eyes wide with guilt and pain. His lips part as if he wants to speak, but no words come out. He’s stunned, frozen, unable to process what you’ve just told him.

Your breath is shaky as you try to pull yourself together, your hands trembling as you wipe away another tear. “I swear… I tried to let you go,” you continue, your voice barely holding together. “I thought if I just stopped thinking about you, I’d be okay. But it wasn’t that simple. It was like… there was no life without you in it.”

Suguru inhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists as he struggles to contain the surge of emotions coursing through him. His chest rises and falls with each shaky breath, his calm, collected facade shattered completely. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, his lips pressed into a tight line as if he’s physically restraining himself from breaking down.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I never… I didn’t realize how much I hurt you.”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. The intensity of the moment is too much, the raw emotion too overwhelming. Your chest feels like it’s been ripped open, exposing every vulnerable part of you that you’ve tried to protect for so long.

You hear Suguru exhale shakily, the sound of his breath unsteady as he tries to compose himself. But when you glance at him again, you see the tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I… didn’t know,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

The apology hangs in the air between you, heavy with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid. And for the first time in a long time, you see Suguru not as the calm, composed man he’s always been, but as someone who’s just as lost as you are.

[tossawary]

I mentioned before that I think DA2 is perhaps the most appealing to me for a Time Travel AU. This is in part because Hawke as a protagonist doesn't have to worry about an impending apocalypse in the same way that the Warden and the Inquisitor do, so there's arguably more space for slow-moving character work, and I think it would be fun to explore Hawke's relationship to Kirkwall.

You can take Inquisition-era Hawke, sacrifice them in the Fade, and then handwavy magic happens there that sends Hawke back for a Time Travel Redo. (If it's irrelevant to the rest of the story, let's skip going into depth on the time travel method! It does not matter!) If you want to avoid time paradox concerns, given that time magic actually exists in this series, this can actually be a Dimension Travel AU as well, sending a Garrett Hawke back in time to another dimension where there's a Marian Hawke instead or something. Two Hawkes!

I prefer sending a mage Garrett Hawke "back" into this alternate dimension because he is absolutely going to look like his own father, Malcolm, to the young Hawke family trying to escape Lothering. And that's some delicious angst.

Another reason that I think Hawke in particular would be interesting is that I think it would be interesting to have a time-traveler (dimension-traveler) be upfront about what had happened to them. A tired Garrett Hawke reveals at least the basics of the "future" to his friends and family (all of whom are strangers to him and it hurts) because he wants to keep them safe, and then the butterfly effects of canon divergence ripple out from there.

There are so many time travel fics where the protagonist confides in no one or only does so very late in the story. There are often reasons for this. 1) They will not be believed. 2) They are surrounded by enemies. 3) They are focused on changing a very specific event and do not want things to change before that. 3.5) They are unwilling to share their knowledge and give up some measure of control over the future. (These control issues are often in-character!)

Sometimes, I am persuaded by these reasons and find them compelling and sympathetic. Sometimes, I find the protagonist's insistence on doing everything alone frustrating and even cruel.

I think that if Hawke had the chance to do a Time Travel Redo, it would be incredibly cruel if they did not at least TRY to share some of their knowledge with their companions. I don't think Hawke's companions would believe them immediately, of course, but they live in a world with strange magic. If Hawke was willing to be calm and vulnerable, they could at least give their future friends some potential leads in their individual quests (being open about the fact that this world may be different to their own).

Like, let's look at Fenris. Fenris would not trust some strange mage talking about fucking time magic, of course. But after knowing each other for a month or so, Hawke might be able to approach Fenris and say, "Hey, I have a really weird story to tell you." And then Hawke could share what they know about Fenris' past according to their own world, so that Fenris can maybe look into that and prepare himself. Because keeping that information away from Fenris is a dick move! Fenris deserves to be able to decide what to believe, what to investigate, and what to do for himself.

I also don't think I could suspend my disbelief if Hawke let Anders and Justice just... play out again over the course of years. I think most Hawkes wouldn't be able to resist confronting Anders in some way! Even Hawkes who end up saying, "I'm going to personally murder Meredith this time." Is a mage-friendly Hawke just going to let characters like Karl Thekla be made Tranquil and be killed again?

Do Merrill and Isabella and Varric and Aveline not deserve to try and avert some of the tragedies in their own lives?

Like, it is totally reasonable for Hawke to be focused purely on their own family or the companions they like, rather than try to save every person in the city. I think it's more than fine if there are tragedies a protagonist just doesn't care about averting. Hawke is not even going to remember everything.

And it is VERY normal for people not to want to give up some measure of control over their lives, especially someone as traumatized as Hawke. I do often find it realistic that a lot of time traveling characters in fanfiction are kind of "control freaks" who don't want to be vulnerable, even if it's "safe" to be. I'm imagining that this future-sharing from Hawke would stem in large part from 1) exhaustion, 2) loneliness, and 3) Hawke being used to celebrity, due to the "Tale of the Champion", and somewhat blasé by this point about all the fucking shit they've been through.

And I think that spilling everything (or even just the basics) would not necessarily go well for a Hawke. I think Varric would take even limited information about Bartrand's future very badly. As strangers to Hawke, I think all of the companions would be upset and disbelieving. (I'm currently imagining a mage Garrett Hawke who previously romanced Merrill, so that he and Past!Fenris were barely friends, because Fenris didn't like this mage Hawke hanging out with a blood mage and Hawke kind of thought Fenris might turn him in to the Templars someday. Past!Fenris was more Isabella's and Varric's friend.) I think these new companions might go on to make some BIG mistakes trying to avoid the future that Hawke has described, as much as they might avert tragedy.

I also imagine that Hawke's relationship with this new Hawke family might be very strange and awkward, even if both Carver and Bethany live. Garrett looks like Malcolm and everyone thinks it's weird; Leandra is probably the happiest and most practical about it, but Garrett can't forget how his own mother died horribly and also blamed him for his own Bethany's death. Neither Garrett nor Marian know what to do about each other; Marian doesn't like some new person waltzing in and taking control of situations. Garrett unconsciously treats this Carver as older and Carver loves it, but Marian doesn't like it. Bethany likes having a mage sibling, but Garrett is awkward because he's used to Bethany being the Hawke family's perfect dead sister. And Leandra's shitty brother is not fucking helping any of this!!! And what's that about Leandra maybe getting murdered by a serial killer in the future???

By saying all of this, I mean to make clear that I really don't think "communicating" would immediately fix every problem for a perfect "Time Travel Fix-It". I do think it would fix SOME problems. Emotional conversations and immediate canon divergence also appeals to me because I like reading those things.

What I mean to make clear is that I think it would be fun to write something that explores autonomy, authority, agency, and control. There are many issues in the world that stem from people unwilling to give up control of a situation for a variety of reasons, and other issues that stem from people believing they have the authority to dictate other people's lives.

What right would a new Garrett Hawke have to withhold information and try to manipulate all of their strangers' lives? Especially from people like Anders and Fenris, whose stories are so deeply concerned with freedom of choice? To conceal backstory information from someone with amnesia, like Fenris, is a choice, and I think it's a cruel one, even if Fenris might not like what he hears and might react badly. Can Garrett Hawke really claim that he "knows best"? What if he doesn't know what's going on with this version of the world? What do you do when freedom means standing back and allowing some of the people you like and love to make "bad" choices?

Some time travel fics seem to me to be incredibly lonely. The protagonist trusts in no one. The other characters can be written as predictably following a timeline to the point of being shallow caricatures of people. It's just not to my taste.

It could be nice to explore Hawke finding new sides of companions that they missed in their previous "run" (which was very much not perfect and full of strife). It could be nice to explore an exhausted Champion learning to trust in other people and have them step up to help solve these shifting problems. DA games are so much about making choices for everyone around you: on behalf of your companions, on behalf of entire kingdoms, on behalf of the entire world. It might be fun to explore an exhausted older Hawke giving up some control and being pleasantly surprised on some fronts as paths diverge.

[halfagone]

Thank you! So this next one is a risky just a DP x DC au. Basically, Dani joins the young Justice and constantly gushes about her father Danny, with her bragging about his achievements and causing both the YJ team and the league as a whole extremely curious about him (especially Batman). When Dani finally decides to introduce them to him, they were not expecting an 18 year old who’s already ruling the realms despite his young age. Naturally, shenanigans ensue from there. What do you think?

Hmm... *strokes non-existent goatee* Now this is an AU I don't usually do... (I have a threshold for angst, as I like to call it, for any given story, and I wonder if this would've passed the threshold) I think for best comical effect Danny shouldn't be super mature like he is in, say... Off With the Demon's Head, where we see a similar father-daughter kind of dynamic between Danny and Ellie. That way the YJ and JL are all the more shocked when they realize that this is the guy Ellie's been talking about all along. Also if Ellie and Danny are only, like, four years apart so Danny's 18 and Ellie's 14 and they call each other father and daughter that would be hilarious XDD

I have been extremely picky about my Ghost King AUs recently, however, so I don't know how I would go about this. There are so many fics with this concept, I've written a number of fics with it too, and not all of them really do it for me anymore? I don't know if I just feel burnt out from the idea thanks to oversaturation or what, so I don't know what I could do for you on this idea. But! I can have a really funny exchange/reveal. >:D

---

Ellie, otherwise known as Phantom ("The Second," Ellie would always tut. "It's Phantom the Second, and don't you forget it."), hopped around excitedly as they stood at the zeta tubes, waiting for her apparent father to arrive. More than a few of them were shifting around on anxious feet, wondering how this meeting would go. Ellie had never held back on boasting about her father, and well. Could you blame them for being intimidated? Even just a little? Many of them hadn't gotten the privilege of seeing his exploits themselves, but they had seen the ripple effect across the world nonetheless. It was nothing to scoff at.

Oh gosh, they were totally going to blow this, weren't they?

Batman remained as stern as ever, even though he was just as curious and intrigued by the stories Ellie had shared. What concerned him the most at the moment, however, was how Ellie had told them to wait here, at the zeta tubes, when Batman was sure that no outsiders should be able to enter the base without the assistance of-

Before he could even finish that thought, there was a blinding ripple of light concentrated around a seam in the fabric of time and space itself. Many of them had to shield or close their eyes to protect their sight from the glare, and when the light finally abated they looked back to see a figure floating above the ground. A ebony black crown floated about their head, wisps of black fire smoking from its gemstones. A thick black coat was thrown over one shoulder, lined with a shock of white fur. It hid the royal regalia underneath, but the quality of it could not be understated.

The mop of white hair couldn't hide the toxic green eyes, no matter the fringe that laid atop of it. Those eyes were piercing, staring into their souls without mercy. More than one of them swallowed; that was fine, only the Supers could hear them... Right?

When the figure laid their eyes on Ellie, they smiled, revealing fanged, glittering white teeth.

"Dad!" Ellie shouted with excitement, floating off the ground without realizing it.

In another flash of bright light, the intimidating figure was then replaced with a young teenager, whose black hair floated gently as they touched down on the ground. Bright green had turned into calm blue, and the royal garb had been replaced with... an uni hoodie with tattered jeans?

"Hi, baby! How are you?" The teenager exclaimed as Ellie threw herself into his arms. "Is it okay if we have McDonald's for dinner? Uh, there was an accident in the kitchen again."

"Don't tell me you and Pa blew something up again," Ellie groaned with exasperation.

"Don't be ridiculous, me and your mom did this time," Ellie's father remarked with nervous laughter. Ellie shook her head at his antics. It was then that the unknown teenager turned to them. "Oh hi! You guys must be the Justice League, and... Young Justice? I hope that's correct? Ellie's told us a lot about you guys. Has she been good? How much collateral damage has she caused?"

"She burned down a lab the other day," Superman commented distantly, his shock overwhelming him.

The teenager gasped, turning back to Ellie. "You did? Aw, I'm so proud of you." He pulled her into another hug, making the younger girl giggle in happiness.

Meanwhile, everyone else couldn't help but stare. What the actual what just happened?

[essekknits]

Can’t help but wonder what the dynamics of the Jiang family would’ve been if Wei Ying was a little girl instead of a little boy.

First change I think would have to happen is that madam Yu would have to find different reasons to hate her, if she even continues hating her this much. This Wei Ying is not a threat to her son’s inheritance, or to her daughter’s prospects, so that is one part of the hatred not really being there anymore.

As a result of this, Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying’s relationship would be a bit less fraught, I think. Jiang Cheng is no longer constantly being compared to Wei Ying as “he’s the son your father actually wanted, he doesn’t love you”. He can instead take more joy in a second older sister, one who likes to wrestle with him and race him in the lakes, which his sister can’t really do, but who he also might be a bit more comfortable leaning on emotionally than he might’ve been a brother.

In this AU, Yanli might bear the brunt of the comparisons, but I also think she’s more well-equipped to handle it? Female Wei Ying would still be a strong cultivator, which Yanli very much isn’t, but Yanli’s identity doesn’t revolve around her cultivation the way Jiang Cheng’s does. She’s slightly older, and as sad as it is, more used to being looked down on. She doesn’t resent Wei Ying her success the same way she doesn’t resent Jiang Cheng his.

There would also have to be a change in the rumours. I feel like one of the rumours, instead of being “Wei Wuxian is Jiang Fengmian’s bastard with Cangse Sanren” (although that rumour isn’t completely gone either), would turn into a slightly more sinister “Jiang Fengmian couldn’t have the mother, so he’s raising the daughter to become his concubine/second wife/replace his bitch of a wife”.

Which brings us to the final point: Jiang Fengmian. A lot about that man and his motives is left to speculation for the readers, and I saw many beautiful and incredibly valid interpretations of his motives. Maybe he genuinely just wanted to find his friends’ child to honour them. Maybe he wanted to earn a loyal guard to his son. Maybe he was trying to use Wei Ying as a replacement for the friends he lost.

Maybe he couldn’t have the mother, so he took the daughter.

I just think having a female Wei Ying can cause some interesting ripple effects that I’d love to explore, and isn’t just “slap different pronouns on character”.

[doubleddenden]

Diving through the leaks from today (I have not slept yet) in regards to the cut gen 5, 4, and even 3 content has been such an adventure. I feel like I've discovered several more AUs in which 1 small decision could have had a ripple effect on the franchise for years to come.

Especially the gen 4 beta lore that was apparently dug up. Yall thought shit was religious now, they had a straight up PANTHEON planned. Not to mention it makes that church suddenly make sense- this wasn't just worshipping a Pokemon, this was literally a god with god like mythos. Like Arceus hatched from an egg in the middle of chaos at the beginning of time, his own egg shards became GIANTS that tried to kill him, and Arceus rapidly grew and beat them all. He made Dialga and Palkia to be his alter egos out of his own blood and to be God's of time and LIGHT, apparently, and Dialga and Palkia LOVED EACH OTHER- not hated and tried to kill each other, LOVED EACH OTHER. HAD CHILDREN. And assuming I read correctly, those two had the lake trio, who made the tree of life, destroyed it, and Rayquaza, Groudon, and Kyogre were born. In fact, Rayquaza may have been the shadow of ANOTHER POKEMON that became the pillar of the heavens?

It's pretty hardcore and confusing stuff. The giants stuff absolutely puts the Fighting Plate lore into perspective with its text "the power of giants fills this plate with power" or something.

I think it's pretty obvious why it was all cut or severely dumbed down, but it is actually very interesting to see that at some point, they were extremely dedicated to the world building of the franchise before they kinda said "fuck it it's whatever now."

On a mechanical end, it's also incredibly interesting. Gen 5 was almost the gen to introduce 3d models for players, apparently. I think it's pretty obvious why they went with an enhanced 2.5d approach, given the ds wasn't ready for much beyond ps1 graphics, but it's still incredible to think that was even a concept at the time.

And the lost beta Pokemon, oh my God. Gen 3 had a bunch that were eventually redesigned. Lickylicky in gen 4 almost made sense because it's body looked READY TO ROLL OUT! Archeops in gen 5 was almost cool af with some slightly different proportions. There's just a bunch that go completely unused.

And characters- yall, Team Galactic almost served cunt. Saturn almost was cool, and Mars and Jupiter would have DONE something to people. There's also in depth profiles on certain characters- Skyla was apparently modeled after Jennifer Lopez and was coded to be Hispanic. Each gen 5 gym leader had races assigned to each, and a real life inspiration behind each.

Even mechanics are talked about- a lot of scrapped ideas, such as one from Morimoto that was basically Pinkan Pokemon from Orange Islands but shifting your Pokemon's colors depending on the berries they ate. Masuda apparently had some reservations about following Pokemon- hence why it was so limited in DP and other games he directs.

It's information like this that really amazes me. So much of what could have been, so much info fans have theorized just kinda confirmed in some cases. I wish they'd talk about this stuff, because this is all genuinely interesting to see. Genuinely, I want to know the thought processes going on for some of these ideas and designs.

[buffygiles]

tumblr user buffygiles' buffy/giles fic rec

hi, friends. i know i said i'd do this last week but i am nothing if not a procrastinator. i've come across some wonderful works throughout my years in and out of the fandom, so i wanted to compile them into a easily read post (for my own future reference, as well as anyone who might come across this in the future and find it helpful). in order to keep everyone's dash clean, i'll be putting the recs under a read more. lastly, if there are any fics you love that you don't see on this list, feel absolutely free to send them to me so i can read them and then add them to this post! there are over 2k bg fics on ao3 and i've only just barely scratched the surface of them. not to mention the og ones on ff.net. i'm always excited about new material to read.

rec format: fic title by author (rating letter, word count) - synopsis [my own personal thoughts/ramblings]

so! in no particular order:

I Need A Bad Idea by Skyson (WIP E, 550k) - Giles finds Buffy after she’s run away into the city, and instead of a scolding and dragging her back home, he supports her. They spend a few days together, reaffirming their bond and their friendship, forging a new and more mature respect between them. In the months to follow, that has a ripple effect on how they handle the coming events in their lives. [starting out very strong here. this fic was recommended to me just a few weeks ago in the bg discord server and i happily let it take over my life for a few days. if you're looking for something long to throw yourself into for a bit, this one is perfect!]

Friends and Lovers by LadyRa (M, 30k) - An AU story of what happens if Angelus didn't kill Jenny, and how that affects, over time, the relationship between Buffy and Giles. [there's going to be a LOT of LadyRa on this rec post. i have found so much joy in their work and the way they write both buffy and giles. this fic in particular was so so cute. i love them being absolutely obsessed with each other and i love meddling joyce having to nudge them to realize their feelings.]

A Different Life by LadyRa (M, 47k) - Buffy is given the opportunity to make a wish. Then she is told she must undo it and give up the life she always wanted. [this fic didn't hit me until the day after i read it and i couldn't stop thinking about it all throughout work that i came home and reread it. i think it's so beautifully written and i love curator giles so much. someone asked me to point out soulmate au fics so if that was you, here's one!]

A Day of Surprises by littleotter73 (T, 7k) - When his niece finds herself without a babysitter, she asks Giles to step in and take care of her daughter for the day, only Giles has no experience with babies. Thankfully he has a very helpful Slayer with babysitting experience. [was in the mood for a cute fluffy baby fic and thats exactly what this is]

Moral Flexibility by LadyRa (E, 11k) - Giles gets turned into a vampire.  He’s ready to take over Sunnydale now, with Buffy at his side. [i am begging BEGGING any writers who might see this to write more vampire!giles. everything i wanted from an undead watcher. this is a good quick smutty read if you're on the hunt for one.]

Candy Man by gilesbabe (T, 23k) - Ripper turns Buffy's world upside down. [can never go wrong with a band candy au, and i personally will never ever have enough of ripper]

Second Chances by LadyRa (M, 19k) - Giles dies. Ethan brings him back, but he’s not the Giles Buffy knew. [the mixture between giles and ripper here is incredible. man of buffys dreams and honestly mine as well]

Into The Dark Ages by Sadbhyl (E, 33k) - Visiting London after her stay in Italy, Buffy makes a wish that takes her back in time. In this time, her boyfriend is Ethan Rayne, and his partner in crime Ripper seems to have a certain claim on her attention as well. [I have many mixed feelings about this one. i loved the relationship of the three of them, i will always love any glimpses of both ripper and ethan, plus the smut was great. my only downside was that i didn't love the ending. so it's on my list of rec's for everything but the ending! still totally worth the read for the rest of the story though. consider this me begging writers to also write more multi-chapter fics for giles/buffy/ethan]

With Arms Wide Open by jaybird023 (WIP 280k, E) - It's been a few weeks since Sunnydale sunk into the desert leaving all of the Scooby gang up in the air at what to do with their lives. Buffy's decided to settle down with Dawn in Rome, trying to live her own life, and forget about the things that have gone wrong between her and Giles. Just as she's settling into a routine working for the Italy branch of the new Watchers Council she finds out she's pregnant. There's only one problem… she hasn't had sex since over a year before the potentials started showing up at her door in Sunnydale! [no spoilers but the home giles builds for them all <3 i wont ever recover!!! again, to the person who asked: definitely a soulmate au!]

One Wish by LadyRa (M, 16k) - For revenge, Ethan makes a flippant wish of Buffy’s come true. [great hurt/comfort read. TW: mentions of SA but no actual SA]

And It Shall Come to Pass by LadyRa (M, 52k) - The Council wants a Slayer again at its beck and call and Buffy's not interested. Will Giles pay the price? [it was fun to read an evil faith one (as much as i love her!!) and i would also consider this one to be a soul bond au]

♡

and as im finishing up, im realizing this is mostly a shrine to LadyRa's writing. please like and reblog if you've found this rec helpful, and again, if theres any fic you think i should check out please send it my way. happy reading!

[theyellowhedgehog]

Goldfish

Snippet of my Ripple Effect AU.

Don't worry kids, it's not drug. - Probably Tim Drake

It was a nice Sunday. Damian was minding his own business in the living room casually reading his book on poisonous animals. He would focus on his book, but it is rather hard to when you have two people looking at you with judgement as if he is like a nuisance existence of a gum sticking on someone's else shoes.

"What?" he asked gracefully.

Neither Jason nor Stephanie answered for a while, only giving him stinky eyes. And when they decided to reply, it make Damian wonder if he heard it wrong.

"Excuse me?" Damian looked at them confused.

Jason puffs his chest up and hisses out, "I ask, what's like being friend with a drug dealer?"

Nope, Damian didn't hear it wrong.

Damian slowly close his book, bookmarking the page on poisonous tree frogs before looking at his one official brother and one unofficial sister.

Damian was in a good mood, so he asked them patiently, "What make you come to that conclusion?"

This time it was Stephanie that answered him, "Your rich friend that just appear out of nowhere," Tim, which Damian automatically translated, "I saw him at the corner of the alley, giving out packets to children!"

"What? Tim would never sell drugs." Damian put his full faith in his best friend.

"Yeah? Then why else would a young white rich guy with sketchy clothes be standing at the corner of the burger alley with a box behind him?" Jason shove his phone into Damian's face.

Damian saw the photo Jason took was of someone who look like Tim. Nope, that's Tim alright. The picture is taken when Tim was handing out an inflated white packet to a 6 years old child, who was smiling so brightly.

"Guys, whatever he is selling, it is not drugs." Because it clearly doesn't look like how a normal transaction with dealers would look like.

"That's what he wants you to believe!" Stephanie points at Damian.

Damian just looked deadpan at his unofficial sister, and whipped out his phone. "Want me to call him for you?"

Before they could have a chance to stop him, Damian was already on speed dial with Tim.

After three beats, Tim picked up. "Hey,Dames, What's up?"

Damian just looked amused with the look his two siblings were giving him, "Where are you right now?"

"At the burger place at Crime Alley. Why?" Tim answered without missing a beat, ignoring the 'Aha!' from Damian's call background.

"Nothing, I'm coming there. Wait for me."

Damian hung up with an 'okay' from Tim and looked at Jason and Stephanie. He stood up and grabbed his keys. "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Jason and Stephanie grumpily followed saying, "If you warn him beforehand, he is going to hide his evidence!!"

"Yeah!"

"Just get on the car already."

When they arrived, they saw Tim. Jason looked behind him to see the cardboard box still there.

"Tim," Damian greeted. He put each of his hand on each shoulder of his two siblings' . "Jason and Stephanie are curious of what you are selling in those cardboard boxes."

Tim looked behind him, and looked at Jason and Stephanie again confused. "Do you guys want to buy goldfish?"

"I knew it!- What?" Jason stopped in his track.

Tim took out two bags of goldfish, "You want one? I'll give it to you for free." He gave one to Jason, "This one is Marti, he likes to eat alot. So you must feed him moderately." He handed one to Stephanie, "This is Juice. I think it's a female, but it's still too small to tell."

Both Jason and Stephanie were speechless.

"You were selling goldfish this whole time?!"

"Yeah?" Tim looked at them confused and looked up to Damian.

Damian hold back a smile, "They thought you were selling drugs."

"Oh..." Tim came to a realisation. He looked at his clothes and at his set up, "It does look like that, doesn't it?" he hums.

Jason points at him in frustration, "Why are you even selling goldfish in crime alley?! Scratch that, why are you even selling goldfish? you are rich!"

Tim was about to reply when they were interupped by a small voice.

"Hi, are you Tim?" it was a young girl at least 10 years old.

"Are you Risa?" Tim asked and the little girl nodded. Tim searched for something in the cardboard box and pulled out a bag of goldfish. "Here, this is the one you ordered."

"Thanks you," the little girl carefully hugged the bag and ran back to her mom who was waiting not far from here.

"Well, they were ordered. I came here so it'll be easier for them to pick up their order."

Jason and Stephanie looked like they do not buy it at all.Tim looked at his goldfish in their hands, "So, you aren't here to buy goldfish?" Ready to take back his goldfish.

"No!" both of them shouted in unison.

Damian dropped of his brother and sister and drove to the Drake manor to sent Tim home.

"Oh, you should totally come see your grandchildren!"

"Excuse me, my what?"

That evening, Damian learnt that he had 2 batches of grandchildren in Gotham and another batch in Montana.

Tim Drake's side hustle is selling Goldfish.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

I don’t have the brain power to really flesh this out, but I think it’d be really cool to have an AU where the union leaders can still communicate with each other after being scattered in time via magical group chat. So each message has a different timestamp, decades(/centuries?) apart from one another.

The later leaders can sometimes see the results of the actions the earlier leaders took long ago and they can freely talk about it, maybe throw some jokes at each other in the chat as they all work together to make adjustments to see what works and what doesn’t. Basically, timey wimey ripple effect dramatic anime movie stuff. As you can imagine, this starts out pretty fun but would get sadder and sadder as it goes on

[cuffmeinblack]

Encore

Drummer!Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Tags: explicit | public sex | blowjobs

2.2k words

Summary: Garreth always gets worked up after a gig, and tonight is no exception.

A/n: Just a quick one for this week's WW theme: AU. I said I'd do a Drummer!Gar fic ages ago but never got around to it so here's a little smutty one shot instead!

The lights were dim as you tapped your foot impatiently on the ground, gaze fixed on the empty stage in front of you. Not a bad turnout, considering the state of the venue, but their regulars were loyal enough to follow them to even the most dilapidated dive bars. This was a palace in comparison to some of the earlier venues. So many scantily clad young women milled about, some utterly gorgeous, though you knew your boyfriend would only have eyes for you. Sebastian would likely be lapping up the attention later though, as well as other, more unsavoury things.

Finally, the band filed onto the stage to a round of cheers as they began to sound check, still shrouded mostly in darkness. Your heart pounded with anticipation, though you'd seen them perform dozens of times before, the main event was what awaited you after the performance. Sipping your drink, you waited patiently until you saw the ruffled red hair as the lights finally came on, and the onlookers erupted into cheers. Garreth's green eyes scanned the crowd, finding you and flashing you a wide smile before he sat down behind the drum kit.

You hadn't seen him before the gig—in fact it had been a very long week away from him, both of you busy with your jobs and various hobbies. Laying eyes on him now had you all kinds of worked up. He looked fucking fantastic with his effortlessly mussed copper hair, endless freckles that mingled with his various tattoos and the simple black t-shirt he wore that showed every toned muscle of his broad chest. Sebastian was busy pandering to the crowd, flirting with the girls in the front row and strutting around like he owned the place, but Garreth kept his eyes on you and only you. 

"Are you fucking ready?"

The fluffy-haired brunet shouted at the crowd, who responded with a rabid cheer amongst the shrieks and wolf whistles. Garreth gave you a final wink that had your insides squirming before he counted them in and the band launched into their self-titled track. The atmosphere was electric, in no small part due to Sebastian's overexuberance with a microphone, but the whole band was on spectacular form tonight. You downed the rest of your drink and pushed your way into the throng, weaving through sweaty bodies until you were near the front, with an excellent view of Garreth.

You knew all the words by now, even the throaty growls that Sebastian spat out and the backing vocals that Garreth screamed from behind his drums. As they switched tempo to a slower tune, you were thankful for the breather, swaying to the unfamiliar track and finding Garreth staring straight at you with glittering eyes. His hair stuck to his glistening forehead and chest heaved, but it didn't stop him from giving his performance everything. As the song started to build to the chorus you realised why he'd been keeping his gaze locked on you the entire time—he belted the harmony of the chorus about a man hopelessly in love, and you realised this was one of his. A song for you.

Your breath caught in your throat as the realisation dawned, apparently presenting on your face as Garreth smiled as he sang. As the last chord rang out, Sebastian thanked the crowd for coming, to a cheer for more—you'd usually join in, but all you could think about was getting your hands on the redhead currently pouring water over his head and drenching his already damp t-shirt. Fuck. You were pretty sure he was doing that mainly for your benefit, no matter how hot the musky bar was. It was certainly having the intended effect as a ripple of tension shot through your abdomen and by the time he looked back at you, pushing the curtain of wet hair out of his face, you were practically salivating.

As the band carried on with an encore, you snaked your way back out of the pit to stand at the side of the stage, eagerly awaiting their finish. Finally, finally, as Garreth stood up and bounded off the stage, he made a beeline for you and picked you up effortlessly in his strong arms. You were vaguely aware of the rest of the band being intercepted by fans, but Garreth carried you through the grotty door with far too many layers of paint that led to the backstage area. In reality, it was a poorly furnished kitchenette, but he didn't intend on stopping there. 

"Are you going to put me down at any point, Gar?" you laughed, kissing his fiery locks.

"When I get you somewhere quiet," he rasped, his voice hoarse and dripping with lust.

He always got wound up after a set, the adrenaline pushing his already rampant sex drive into high gear, and you were happy to be on the receiving end. Post-gig sex with Garreth was incredible, no matter where it ended up taking place. He finally put you down in a dark corner near a fire exit; not the most romantic spot, but it was quiet. Your heart pounded into the silence, impossibly loud.

"That song…," you sighed, before his lips crashed into yours.

He hummed in assent, confirming that yes, it was for you, but there would be time to talk about it later. Your fingers threaded through his damp hair, tongue slipping inside his hungry mouth as you succumbed to his desire. He tasted of beer and sweat with lingering undertones of the single cigarette he smoked before every gig; a sort of ritual he'd performed ever since the band started touring, but it was so Garreth and not at all unpleasant. His musky scent sent your head spinning, the overwhelming urge to run your tongue over his skin writhing inside you.

"You look…beautiful tonight," he hummed as his mouth trailed down your neck with gentle nips at your flushed skin.

Your skirt was already above your hips, his hands working to rid you of the enticing lingerie he wouldn't get to appreciate before it hit the floor, absolutely drenched in your arousal. Next came the zip on his trousers, freeing his deliciously girthy cock, already hard and throbbing with desire.

"Fucking hell, Gar. You were incredible…"

And he was. There was nothing quite like watching your boyfriend effortlessly twirling his sticks and throwing you cheeky smiles between songs to get your blood pumping. Garreth let out a soft growl against your neck, gripping your behind with both hands and lifting you clean off the floor. He had you pinned against the cold wall with his weight as if you were nothing, a frail waif of a thing as your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. The way he usually threw you around in bed was nothing to the frantic manhandling you received now, all bites and bruises and searing kisses.

"I've wanted to do this...all week, you have no idea…," he whispered in your ear.

"I think I have some idea."

"Yeah?" he asked, his cock probing teasingly at your entrance. 

A whimper left your mouth, your heart fluttering and core throbbing for his attention.

"Fuck me, Gar, please."

His performance had been the foreplay, and with nothing more he thrusted inside you in one swift motion, the satisfying burn only lasting a second before any discomfort was muted by the utterly incredible feel of him inside you. His cock pressed deep, hitting you just right as he pulled you down hard onto him with a groan. The perfect fit, he filled you completely and perfectly. The gutteral moan that clawed its way out of his throat indicated he'd needed this just as much as you.

"God, you're so fucking wet…you weren't joking."

All you could manage in reply was a whimper as he started thrusting in earnest; a slow grinding that teased every nerve ending you possessed, your head lolling back against the wall with sheer pleasure. His grip on your backside was bruising, kneading the flesh in rhythm with his hips as his mouth attacked the sensitive skin of your neck. He'd mark you up prettily as he always did, making his claim for all to see. You were his, and his alone.

You managed to look down at him with hooded eyes, just as he relinquished his mouthful of skin with a gentle bite. His own eyes were dark, glazed, with a fire behind them that threatened to burn into your very soul. He picked up the tempo, his arms beginning to shake but still fucking you into the wall with everything he had. It was working wonderfully, your blood rushing to hour heat with an intense swell of arousal, fluttering around his cock in anticipation of your impending release.

"Yes…," you managed to gasp faintly.

"That's it baby, I can feel you getting close."

His sultry, rasping voice sent tingles across your body, your lips finding his in a desperate kiss as you fell apart. Garreth groaned and pinned you hard against the brick, carrying on shallow thrusts as you rode out your orgasm and gasped into his mouth, gripping his hair for dear life. Your ears rang with the intensity of your climax, left as a shaking and limp mess being held up by Garreth's body.

"That feel good?" he asked with a grin.

You nodded through bleary eyes with a lopsided smile as Garreth finally let you down onto the floor, the rippling muscle in his arms twitching in protest. He was still hard, desperately rutting against your hip with renewed vigour; he attacked your collarbone with his mouth as you tried to catch your breath. Without another thought, you dropped to the ground, ignoring the state of the floor and focusing on his cock; red and dripping with your mixed arousal. With a salacious moan and drawn out swipe of your tongue along his shaft, you watched his reaction.

"Yes…"

Garreth sighed as you ran your tongue over his head, lapping up the beads of precum with another moan for his pleasure, though you thoroughly enjoyed sucking his cock. Taking him in your mouth with a gentle swirl around the tip, you were about to end his world with a mind-shattering suction until you heard voices approaching. Looking up at Garreth with wild eyes, he stared back at you with a finger on his lips and a gentle tug of your hair to keep going. With an upward curl of your lips, you took him deeper, teasing his length with gentle pressure as the intruders stood nearby, lighting up cigarettes with the telltale spark of a lighter. 

"Too cold outside, they won't grass on us for lighting up in here."

A grunt of agreement and the men lapsed into conversation, utterly dull and not worth paying attention to when you had much more interesting things to focus on in front of you. Garreth's breath grew heavier as he controlled the urge to moan, but you wanted those delicious sounds echoing in the hallway, company be damned. With a firm grip at the base of his cock, you dipped your head to take him into your throat, sucking hard on the way back. Garreth's hips twitched, his grip on your hair growing tighter with every movement. 

He tasted divine, and looked even better with his flushed skin and pink, kiss-swollen lips. You ran a hand up his t-shirt, over his taut stomach, raking his burning skin with your nails as his cock twitched eagerly in your mouth. With a teasing smirk, you popped your mouth off his cock, resuming the agonisingly slow swipes of your tongue as he looked down at you with silent, begging eyes. Yes, it was slightly cruel, but it was so fun to toy with him when he couldn't even protest; the two voices were still nattering on in the background.

Your plan fell apart when Garreth took matters into his own hands, gripping your head with both hands and sliding his cock into your mouth. The surprise intrusion made you gag, but he didn't stop, pushing himself further down your throat with every thrust. You knew he was close, desperate for his release; his breath stuttered and legs shook as you braced yourself. He pulled back at the last second and spilled his load into your mouth, coating your tongue as you let out a satisfied moan before you could stop yourself.

Your hand pumped the last drops of his cum onto your tongue, aware that the voices had stopped talking and Garreth was too far gone to pay them any mind. 

"I think we've interrupted something," one of the men muttered.

The other chuckled, their footsteps receding into the distance with the creak of a door.

"I thought they'd never leave," Garreth sighed, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped against his arm on the wall.

"Didn't stop you from nearly choking me, did it?"

Garreth gave you an apologetic look and a cheeky smile, as if to say, 'can you blame me?'. You swatted his arm playfully as you stood up, wiping your lips with your thumb with a low hum. You took a minute or two to redress and fix your hair until you were finally ready to join your other friends, walking hand in hand with Garreth back towards the bar.

"So, that song…"

"You like it?" he grinned.

"It was beautiful," you said, kissing his cheek.

"Of course it is, it's about you."

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: Sept 13/24

Happy Friday the 13th, everyone!!! Hope y'all had a wonderful week and are excited to start off the weekend with these five fantastic fics!! Be sure to give the boosted fic some extra llove as well!! Enjoy!!!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Understanding by avalanching effect (T, 2,465 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Kissing, Aftermath of a Case, Love Confessions, Developing Relationship) – After a case that nearly goes wrong, John and Sherlock come to a new understanding in the foyer of Baker street.

RECENT MFLs

This is Family by Calais_Reno (T, 2,471+ w., 1/2 Ch. || WiP || Post TFP, Alternating POV, Childhood Memories, Repressed Memories, Idiots in Love, Missing Scenes) – Events leading up to the Final Problem; conversations we didn't hear. Part 1 of The Final Problem

Clean Start by standbygo (T, 4,535 w., 1 Ch. || University AU || Strangers to Lovers, Happy Ending) – John meets an odd man at the laundrette who deduces people from what's in the dryer.

En Pointe by nbcravenstag (T, 9,968 w., 1 Ch. || Ballet Dancing, Insecure Sherlock, Overprotective John, Bullying, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending) – The thought of John Watson, his John Watson finding out about his love of ballet was terrifying. John was a soldier. Robust, muscular, almost rippling with strength, and he could only imagine what said soldier would do if he found out. Of course, in the back of his mind, he had a dream once of his rugby-playing soldier doctor meeting him after show, teasing him lovingly about the leotard and tights, wiping away the sweaty stage make up that fell down his face as he leaned in for a kiss... But it was wrong. John wasn't gay, Sherlock wasn't a ballet dancer, and love was a horrible thing to think about after a murder.

The Part Of You That Stays by Accident & holmesian_love (E, 85,957+ w., 6/7 Ch. || WiP || Mental Breakdown, Hallucinogens, Hallucinations, Scars, Mental Institutions, Sedation, Past Drug Addiction, Past Torture, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock comes home a broken man and after serving as John’s best man he seemingly has a mental breakdown. In order to put his mind back together he checks in to a seaside mental rehabilitation center. The medicine he needs is his Doctor but will John be able to put all of Sherlock’s broken pieces back together in time before losing the mad genius forever?