#I know it's a very specific AU but I really hope it's comprehensible anyway

[seyaryminamoto]

Leap of Faith: Sokkla Saturdays 2022

Day 4: Sokka dresses Azula

On FF.net//On AO3

And here's the first sequel I've written this year... the sequel to my Dragon Age AU from last year :'D about half as long, so still ridiculously long, but yet again... you can't expect better when adapting such a long game, not even when you're only centering it around secondary characters.

Anyway, it was a wild ride and I was very happy to finally fulfill my main headcanons in that franchise regarding a potential way to save a certain someone from being trapped in the Fade forevermore...

Hope you enjoy it! Read in either link above, since, yet again, Tumblr won't allow me to post the full story here.

Now, as for thoughts you may read after you finish that story...

Regarding the controversial ending... I can't be the only person who finds Aang and Solas can be disturbingly similar x'D There's obvious differences between the two, but even the fact that Bryke described Aang as a "trickster", and the Solas is notoriously known for being the Trickster God? Stuck in an iceberg for 100 years, and dormant for over 1000 years? Both are struck by tragedy when their civilizations were completely wiped out -- and both struggle with guilt over it, though I hold Solas far more responsible for it, in his case. In short... this was a no-brainer. The reason why Aang was never around in the first part of this story, the Prince Sokka and Peasant Azula prompt from last year, was because the minute I wanted to write a Dragon Age AU, I knew Aang would be the ideal Solas if I ever got around writing the Inquisition sequel. I know it was probably weird back then, but I hope it makes some sense this time, especially for people who have played these games.

Regarding Ursa... Flemeth is another big question mark in the future of Dragon Age's franchise as a whole. I recently watched a video with a lot of crazy theories about her being the source of all that's wrong with Thedas, but going by DAI's ending, with that epilogue in which Flemeth/Mythal kind of dies (?) in Solas's arms and Solas takes in her essence? It doesn't feel like Flemeth will be returning as herself in the future, at the very least, hence why Azula is sure she won't see Ursa again. Ursa is such a strange, gray character here because that's what Flemeth is like, but until the universe proves otherwise, I elect to believe that Flemeth's cruel treatment of Morrigan was actually a very twisted way of breaking her own cycle and setting her daughter free from the burden of inheriting Mythal directly... even if, by drinking from the Well of Sorrows, Morrigan is connected to Mythal all over again anyhow. Anyway. Well. I don't know what else is there to be said about this, but the point is Ursa's characterization wasn't so sketchy and strange for no reason, it's all because of the source material.

Regarding Dragon Age 2... I honestly wish I knew who to cast in the place of DA2's cast. I have a soft spot in my heart for most of the DA2 party characters, but unfortunately, I've already used soooo many ATLA and LOK characters, and finding some that correspond really well with the DA2 cast was so difficult it became virtually impossible. I actually thought June would be a perfect Isabela at first. I switched her to Hawke when I realized that I had no Hawke, and I NEEDED a Hawke for this story X'D my personal preference for Hawke is female Hawke too, which helped in that decision, but I couldn't possibly figure out who to turn into Merrill, Fenris, Aveline, let alone Anders (hence why he's not mentioned by name, I really have no idea who he'd be), and so, I chose to just reference a potential physical relationship between Hawke and Zevran (in this case, the old fandom-favorite obscure ship of Jet and June) rather than confirming a more traditional DA2 romance for this Hawke, since I just couldn't sort out who the rest of the DA2 cast would be. I didn't leave them so far out of the story because I wanted to, it's because I kiiind of had no choice, the shortage on characters rendered me helpless.

Regarding the Inquisitor... writing Inquisitor Korra Adaar made me happier than I imagined possible from writing that character. I thought about making her just a warrior, but I suppose she's a kind of physical mage, a warrior-mage hybrid of the sorts I don't think exist in this franchise. In her case, I didn't go all-out to confirm any DAI romances because I honestly didn't want to push a pairing for her, since it was also not exactly important for the story? Therefore, I left it up in the air. If you want to believe Korrasami happened, well, Josephine/Asami is certainly willing to be romanced by any Inquisitor, so that's a valid conclusion to reach X'D I suppose a case of the sort could be made for Mako/Cullen, but I realize Cullen isn't supposed to romance Qunari Inquisitors. Still, eh... it's up to whatever readers would like to imagine in the end, fic writers have been notorious for disregarding all of the canon preferences for characters anyway. Weirder things have been written in fandoms.

Anyway. I think that's basically all the notes I had to give for this particular chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

[rose-colored-amy]

So, this is a continuation to my extremely short one-shot Last Moments, Last Regrets, but it can be read as a stand-alone. Regardless, I'll leave the link of that one in here:

Also, thanks to @coeurhh for suggesting I write a second part. You're a sweetheart 🥰

She made a lovely fanart/gif, which I'm also sharing, of course:

Prompt: AU. Sakura's death goes unnoticed to everyone but the squad she protected with her life and Tsunade. Team Kakashi doesn't find out until the very end, when Naruto and Sasuke have already had their fight, and there's nothing to do about it but mourn the absence.

Warning: Mild Sasusaku and lots of angst. Team 7 sort-of-fluff (?)

—Blue Bird, Let Go—

"Hey, bastard... I know they really let us down, the village, I mean."

"Aa... "

"But I really think it's not all that bad. When we were I team, I knew you understood. It felt like having a brother, believe it."

They were watching their lives go by, shadows of unknown faces passing by them, not noticing their pain, or not caring whatsoever. Their backs were touching, but it was all cold and bleak; a bad memory. A clan slaughtered, a demon sealed. Two lonely boys wallowing in their own sadness.

"Well, even if I don't make it, I'm glad it was you, bastard—"

"Shut up, idiot." His voice sounded strained, even for his standards, but Sasuke was so tired he couldn't even bring himself to care.

"We're really dying, ah? Wanna say something? I do have things to say, 'cause there's no way I'm dying—"

"In silence?" Sasuke interrupted, but Naruto payed him no mind.

"Without telling you how much of an asshole you've been! I couldn't even keep my promise to Sakura-chan! She's gonna be so damn mad when she finds out, I'm sure she'll drag me back to life just to cave my face in—" He was rambling at that point, but it was just so comforting and normal to Sasuke that he didn't even acknowledge it anymore.

"Hn. Sakura... She..."

"She still loves you, asshole. I don't have any idea how it can be possible but—"

"I'm sorry..." It sounded rushed, but Naruto heard it perfectly, and in the darkness of their shared consciousness, Sasuke heard a resigned sigh.

"Well, it's not that bad. I cannot imagine dying beside anyone but you, bastard."

"Idiot..." He made a pause. "Me neither."

"You're both a pair of idiots!"

Suddenly, the unreadable mass of unrecognizable faces around them cleared, and one figure stood in front of them, pink eyebrows frowned in annoyance. Though this version of Sakura looked familiar, it was one none of the boys had seen in a long time. Genin, long-haired, Sakura was glaring at them, arms crossed.

"Sakura-chan! What are you doing in here?!"

Her eyes softened. "What, so I'm supposed to let you two die, after everything? No way in hell!"

"Sakura..."

"You!" She pointed at Sasuke, who flinched slightly at her rudeness. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I don't care. Lighten up and start being your moody self. We love you just like that! Don't act so repented and shit! If you're sorry stop looking like a lost puppy and start doing something about it, you asshole!" Her voice was raising with madness and it was slightly off putting to see what used to be a stuttering lovestruck preteen talking to him like that.

Naruto snorted at that, obviously delighted for not being at the receiving end of her wrath for once. It was short-lived, however.

"And you!" She pointed at the blonde; then crossed her arms. He jumped back in fright. "What is this? How dare you even consider dying after you promised to be the best goddamned Hokage in history?! Here I am, rooting for you, while you lay around like a lazy pig with your edgy bro there. You should be ashamed of yourself!" She scoffed.

Naruto's mouth was so wide open he could have caught a fly. "Lazy pig? Are you kidding?!"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, half amused, half annoyed. "Edgy?"

Suddenly, the edges of their vision began to blurr, like a genjutsu being unravelled. "Ah, someone came to help you at last." Sakura seemed relieved. Strangely so.

"Hey, Sakura-chan! You know what? You're right. I'll be the best damn Hokage ever, believe it! Just you watch!" He threw a punch to the air.

Seemingly placated and pleased with his answer, she nodded. "I know so." Then, she turned to her other teammate, who was concentrating solely on her face, mismatched eyes softened as they'll ever be. "And you'll make sure he doesn't mess up, right?"

They shared a long silence. There was something strange about Sakura aside her appearance. He could tell. "Hn. I will..."

"Hey! I don't need him watching over—"

"Sure you don't." He countered sarcastically.

"Also..." They turned to her again. "I'm sorry."

"Wha—" Naruto stuttered. "What the hell would you be sorry for, Sakura-chan?! If anything, it's the bastard here who should be apologizing to you!"

"Sakura..." Sasuke seemed to be searching for the right words, but she couldn't let them go without them listening to her. To what she needed them to know. There wasn't much time left after all.

"I'm sorry, because I wasn't what you needed..." She closed her eyes, her pretty minty orbs. Her appearance suddenly shifted, before then now standing her true self, still dressed in the standard shinobi uniform of the alliance. Her forehead protector lost to whoever knows where. "And thank you. You both made me stronger. You made me appreciate what I had. And I'll always, always love you. Our moments together like team seven... I'll treasure them for all eternity."

"Sakura-chan..."

"I know Konoha wasn't the best to you both, but don't forget the good... The wholesome moments. It's all that matters in the end... Our bonds, the bonds you managed to forge with sweat and blood... The world we live in, the world that gave me the chance to meet you. To me, that's to be cherished. Forever."

The white light started overwhelming the rest. Even Sakura's features started dissapearing.

"Live. Just live." For that, she specifically stared at Sasuke, a soft smile playing on her lips. "And thank you."

Sasuke started racing towards her, hand stretched, a forebonding understanding shaking his bones. "Sakura!"

And then, they both lost consciousness.

When they woke up, aside from feeling like shit, the first thing that crossed their minds what the finality of Sakura's words. Tsunade was beside them, patching them up, with Kakashi beside her, silently watching over them.

"About time, brats! What were you think—"

"Baa-san." Naruto interrupted her, his voice the most serious she had heard him until then.

"Where's Sakura?" Sasuke finished for him, his eyes icy and detached, trying to keep his worry at bay.

But she didn't need to answer. Her chakra flow hesitated, spiking with sorrow. Her eyes glistening with unbearable loss. Kakashi, at her side, stared, eyes widened in comprehension.

She was gone by a long shot.

And they were just finding out.

...

Everybody had different ways of dealing with loss. Naruto helped rebuild the village along with everyone else, but he skipped his usual meals, his ramen left forgotten in his kitchen counter. His movements when sparring were sloppy at best, not just because of the new prosthetic limb, but also because his mind was clearly somewhere else. Usually, Shikamaru would drag him out his makeship house, like he had done when Jiraija was gone for good. Sometimes, he would bring Ino with him, who was suspiciously skinny and messier than normal. No makeup covering the dark circles under her eyes.

Kakashi spent more than usual at the memorial stone every day, tracing the newly marked name of the girl who once remained him of Rin but that had come to claim a place for herself in his heart. Also, he took more missions than it was allowed in a month, going so far as to pick up his ANBU mask again, which caused an altercation with Tsunade, who hadn't been sober in a long time and had been hoping to hand the Hokage seat to him.

Sai avoided the color pink for a long time.

Sasuke... Well, he dealed with loss the same as everyone else... Longing for the missing person to be there, itching to have the opportunity to say what he couldn't at the time. Wanting to be alone whenever they would reach for him... And he built a tomb for her in hopes to find some closure. Not that official, because there wasn't a body to bury, and it had no name, but it was enough for him. He would bring with him camellias every day, buying them at the Yamanaka's, where Ino would always glance at him in silent understanding.

One morning, on his way to her tomb, he spotted a young shinobi leaving a white lilly for her. When he came by, the child spoke without a care, like they were acquaintances. "This is Sakura-san's, right?"

"Hn." It wasn't really an answer, but the child seemed to understand anyway.

"You know? Mama and big sister are also buried in these grounds... I always talk to them and tell them about my day and stuff I want them to know!" He turned to the Uchiha, a smirk on his cherubic face. "I'm sure she would appreciate it as well." And just like that, he left without another word.

Sasuke sat on the ground, just in front of the stone, mismatched eyes half lidded. Sensing no one in the vicinity, he exaled a shaky breath, and his dam opened up, the words longing to be said broke the silence he had been wrapping around himself since he knew of her death:

"I miss you... I've been missing you since I first left."

[pencilofawesomeness]

Author Self-Interview

tagged by: @ljf613

Name: Pencil

Fandoms: *deranged laughter* Too many. I have written (and published) work for Fairy Tail, Genshin Impact, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Voltron: Legendary Defender, the Arrowverse, ~Disney~, RWBY, and Transformers: Prime. I have also written for Seven Deadly Sins, My Hero Academia, DC/Batman, Avengers, Danny Phantom, and soooo many others, but those are all WIPs and such. As for fandoms, well, there’s Miraculous Ladybug, Tales of Arcadia, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Tower of God, and more. I bounce around, and I never really leave anything behind, even if other interests are more at the forefront.

Where do you post: AO3. I used to, waaaaaay back in the dark days, post on ff.net, but not only have I forgotten my password, but I don’t like the interface as much, nor the things I posted when I was a Child, so AO3 it is.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Of Dragons and Fairies, so says my AO3 statistics.

Most popular oneshot: Sparks in the Night, which I by no means expected, being that it was a fun little thing I wrote pretty much in one night. Technically it’s two chapters, but I originally wasn’t going to post the second part I wrote, but decided to later, so I would’ve made it a one-shot, probably, had I thought things through. Besides, it’s only 3k, so that’s a one-shot in my book. 

The “real” most popular one-shot would be Never Forgotten by Pencil-actually-made-it-one-chapter logic.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: F-favorite? Oh. Oh well, um, I have really, really enjoyed the How to Raise Your Dragon Slayer series, far more than I thought I would when I started Of Dragons and Fairies for the kicks and giggles. That said, my favorite installment so far is probably The Eighth Tower, but one of my favorite things I think I have written is a massive one-shot that’s an MHA-style FMA fic, except that I lost it in a harddrive crash and haven’t re-written it. ;-;

Fic you were nervous to post: I don’t know if I’m ever really nervous? I generally post things and accept whatever outcome (even though I always hope it’s well received, because I’m a selfish author who likes validation). That said, it would definitely be United. That story was, and still is, one of my favorite brain-children, but I guessed that it wouldn’t be popular, and I was right. I haven’t written on it in a long time, though I have always wanted to circle back to it eventually; I just figured I had time to follow my current interests, since nobody else was chomping at the bit. One day my child, one day...

How do you choose your titles: Heh. Heheheh. HAHAHAHA. Very carefully, actually, even though sometimes I try to just slap something on a page anyway because it needs one. Most of the time, I try to capture the theme of the story—or at least one of the core ones—and allow it to both serve as a descriptor and as a note that would tie the story together and highlight the theme. Though I do appreciate allusions, and I like to include those as well. (If anyone wants to send me an ask about how I came up with a specific title, I will gladly give my thought process.) Unfortunately, chapter titles—as much as I try—rarely get as much inspiration as the fic title.

Do you outline: Y— Yesssssss.... Sort of. I try. Ironically, my most comprehensive outlines exist as Spotify playlists. That said, HTRYDS probably has the best outline of anything I’ve written, though Tales of Valor had a decent outline as well. 

Complete: Mostly just one-shots—I’m actually pretty bad at completing things, heheh—but there’s a few. Outside of an ongoing series, Finding Home is my only completed multi-chapter. Inside of a series, but existing as comprehensive arcs, I have Of Dragon and Fairies and The Eighth Tower. 

Edit: Oh! And it’s short, but The Recruitment Spiel is an Art But Destiny Took the Fun Out of It is complete! And multi-chapter. Yeah.

Do you accept prompts: Kinda. I’m accepting prompts and ideas for extra scenes for the HTRYDS series, though I’ll tailor them to fit my canon if necessary. Generally, I have so many things of my own to write, any prompt I got would be placed in the back of the line (unless I got super inspired, which happens) but I do enjoy prompts, provided they’re not super shippy or specific.

Upcoming story you’re most excited to write about: Well, that untitled I-have-to-write-it-again oneshot for FMA that I mentioned is definitely something I want to do and post eventually. As for what I’m actively working on, I am really excited for the next HTRYDS arc (I’ve been trudging through TLS to get to it, ngl) which will be titled Demon Tales. There’s also this Seven Deadly Sins TOG AU I’ve had rolling around, though I may not continue that the way I had planned because 4KOTA gave me more ammo. 

Stories you’re most excited to read: Hmmm. I have quite a few things queued in my Marked for Later list, some that I’ve started and some that I wanted to check out, but as to what I have been currently reading/following, the Poisoned Dreams Continuity by StrangeDiamond (AO3), which is currently inbetween fics, and Homuncular Nature by Otaku553 are a couple of things I have been following. I also read a lot of Webtoons, and I have some Tower of God to catch up on, and Room of Swords and Lore Olympus are always welcome updates. I’m currently perusing some of my Marked for Laters, and in regular searches, to see what my next few reads will be. (Feel free to send me recs, but I also got a hefty stack of ATLA fics to check out, I know.)

tagging @therosefrontier @ladylynse and @blueskyscribe (if y’all want to, of course)

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt47

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

Damian sat in the apartment, suited up as Robin, and waiting for Ladybug to show up so he could call Oracle. They’d decided that it would be better if everyone thought they only knew each other as heroes for now, to stop any questions they wouldn’t be willing to answer. Marinette didn’t want her identity compromised and since she didn’t know Damian was a Wayne he felt it best if his family wasn’t given a reason to compromise their own identities by giving away his. He fully expected one of them, likely Todd, to make that mistake anyway which was another reason to hope this business would be concluded quickly.

Ladybug entered through the balcony, slightly out of breath. He raised an eyebrow at her but she just shrugged at him. Most likely she and Chloe had lost track of time. Alone, neither was very punctual, together you were lucky if they remembered they were supposed to be somewhere at all.

“Are you ready for me to call Oracle?” She hesitated before answering and Damian wasn’t certain he wanted to know why. Eventually she just nodded at him, but he had a feeling whatever was on her mind would make an appearance once they were done. But he hit the send button quickly just in case she changed her mind. Oracle picked up immediately.

“Robin are you going to be available to accept a delivery there around six in the evening tomorrow?” Damian couldn’t help but frown. Gordon didn’t ever just get down to business.

“Hello to you too.” Oracle just blinked at him while Ladybug hit his arm.

“Look, I’m about to tie Red Robin’s record for days without sleep so my etiquette is a bit lax. Can you be free to accept the delivery or not?” Damian could hear the strain in her voice. They’d refused to keep him updated on what was happening in Gotham because they were afraid if he left Ladybug wouldn’t let him back into Paris. He’d tried to explain that wasn’t going to happen but none of them would listen.

“Yes I can. What exactly are you sending and why?” It was bad enough that they kept him in the dark about Gotham, but she and Drake weren’t really keeping them apprised of what they’d found out about Paris and their quest to find Hawkmoth. It was unacceptable.

“Didn’t Red Robin update you?”  It took everything he had not to throw a knife at the screen.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if he had. No one’s given any sort of progress update and while I’m used to your complete lack of professionalism it’s beyond bad taste to leave Ladybug out of the loop on your investigation of her city.” He watched her let out a tired sigh and rub some tension out of her neck. He’d feel bad if anyone had bothered to talk to him.

“I apologize Ladybug. I was under the impression that you knew what we were looking at. As you’re aware our focus is finding out Hawkmoth’s identity. The data you gave us was very comprehensive so we were able to narrow down to a specific part of the city quickly. Within that section is a blind spot where one of your primary suspects is. I’m sending Robin some cameras and other surveillance devices to place there so we can gather more data.” Ladybug let out a sad sigh.

“Gabriel Agreste.” It wasn’t a question but Oracle nodded anyway. Ladybug looked at him and he could see exhaustion. “Do you think you can wire his office? Video and sound if possible. If we’re going to get any useful information it’ll be in there.”

“It would be best if I can get him out of the house.” She hummed in agreement.

“There’s a fashion show featuring up and coming talent this weekend. I believe he’s planning to attend, but I’ll try to make it a certainty.” Damian felt his eye twitch. He’d completely forgotten about the show. He knew she was working for pieces to show in it but hadn’t asked when it actually was. Was that something he was supposed to ask? Either way it looked like he’d be missing it now.

“Have you found anything else useful?” Oracle just glared at him.

“Given Ladybug’s wish for us to not look to closely into her or her partner’s movements there isn’t much to find. The Akumas never appear when Gabriel is out of the country and we haven’t found any patterns to the one that are created that Ladybug hasn’t already mentioned. As of right now we just need concrete proof that Agreste is Hawkmoth.” Damian noticed Ladybug rubbing her temple and knew that she didn’t really need any more proof but she did feel the need to get it so she’d be able to justify her actions to others. “Oh, there is one other thing. Not long after his wife disappeared Agreste paid for a lot of work on his house but we can’t find out what was done. Bets are that missing construction is involved somehow.”

“Send me the name of the contractor and we’ll see what we can find.” That was actually a promising lead that would allow him to do something. Oracle just nodded absently and he felt his phone buzz as she sent him the information.

“If there’s nothing else, I should try and sleep.” He looked to Ladybug who just frowned in thought.

“No, I don’t think there’s anything else. Thank you for your help.” Damian ended the call and Marinette detransformed. She really did look tired. “I was hoping I was wrong, but he’s the only one that ever really made sense.”

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

Kofi

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[patchdotexe]

explorers of arvus: camp vengeance / 11.24.20

OKAY HERE’S TODAY’S SESSION . HERE’S WHAT I WAS ACTUALLY GONNA POST BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED. OKAY

(solar and jorb wanted to see my notes bc i mentioned they are Very Bad)

LAST TIME, ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS................... i didnt take any notes because i didnt have my pc and was hanging out w solar. we found a cave behind the waterfall and then i died of having a migraine. now we get to Kill!

jorb is afk waiting for his food to Arrival so im eating a tootsie roll pop and thinking about dreamout au

jorb is here! kaepora tries to distract the troll we found and Extremely Failed. sieron uses wand of wonder! it was super effective! (he hit the trolls w lightning and it was pretty pog)

throne: that was fucking sick! charlie: [dies]

charlie got talked out of fireballing it bc burning potential treasure would suck ): HOWEVER she did get to use her fiery crossbow to do some radical shit so !! Fufk Yea

thorne: [obliterates the troll] charlie: YOOO! THORNE, THAT WAS FUCKED UP! DO IT MORE!

silje's got a cursed weapon!! his cool ass sword enjoys blood, apparently. good thing he's a blood hunter! They're Made For Each Other.

charlie tried to hit the guard drake in the nads but a) it doesnt have nads and b) i missed, so. f. charlie flipped it the double bird

taure did a Very Cool Kill and then charlie set its corpse on fire as a "fuck you"

im currently suffering from the curse of constantly aying "pog" but its ok bc charlie is a halfling and theyre just Like That

charlie: YO SIERON, COOL SWORD! you're a swordboy now, right? you like swords? (god i missed playing charlie. she's very fun! she's a squeaky rowdy bastard)

leo: just guys bein dudes bein dead in a cave!

I STILL HAVE MY GIANT DOG i missed justin!! charlie brought her giant dog to arvus and i fucking love him. apparently i named him after justin mcelroy and i dont remember doing that but thats on-brand

charlie: we're the hope's guard! we brought supplies n we brought friends! ... [dabs]

anyway yeah we made it to camp vengeance! its kinda a shithole but we are in the middle of arvus's undead zone so. hopefully the supplies we picked up from the troll cave will help?

Taure Has Leukemia (she does not)

we've met Knight-Captain Ord Firebeard! taure and sieron are doing healing, charlie and silje were fucking around with cards before ord showed up and charlie had to Try And Be Professional, which is always fun. charlie temporarily being the party representative bc shes very friendly and the other 2 people are socially awkward

silje's gonna disrupt the econony ):

charlie sees taure walk up to some guards and talk to them abt "ok who needs to take watch off" but charlie cant hear what shes saying so she just sees the guards scurry off after taure looks Intimidating and is just like FUCK YEAH, TAURE!!!!

commander is Niles Ryder (thats such a cool name wtf),  there's a bunch of native arvusians that we're hanging out with and learning stuff abt! the camp vengeance guys arent really prepared for how fucked up arvus is so thats why theyre in such a bad state. we're helping out, but ryder is very much not like... not the right sort of commander for dealing with the wilderness of arvus.

meanwhile, charlie teaches silje to play go fish!

charlie: [quietly] when the fuck did i become party spokesman

entire call: uh ohhhhh, stinkyyyyy! (apparently me and penn are the only ones that dont instantly hate commander ryder On Sight which like. valid. i do want to set him on fire if he gets any more douchebaggy tho)

camp's sick because water's poisoned! specifically there's some sort of magical disease coming downriver from the aldani basin, so we need to go up there and check shit out. plus thorne & silje heard about "heaven's brazier", an eternally burning watchtower, when they took night shift.

man everybody is sick. camp vengeance blows.

WE LOST IREL. WE LOST IREL,,,,, okay good news charlie found irel. irel made a friend! speicifcally irel woke up ulfric, the head arvusian scout, and is pretending to be a normal feathered snake and not A Bastard. i am now realizing im not sure if im spelling irel's name right (irrel? yrel???) but i am Committing To This Spelling apparently

ooh, old arvusian legend abt the aldani basin! the aldani tribe angered fjolnir [? spelling???] and got turned into lobster monsters, supposedly.

Charlie Has Become Snake Parent aka charlie is the one trying to babysit irel. irel knows the definition of bastard! and also was born with endless knowledge beyond charlie's comprehension. charlie does not like this answer. i, however, adore irel

i checked fallen london and now we've named a npc "jeremy jared sonofabitch". i think. wait no i think michael found a spider. farewell jeremy jared sonofabitch

[loads crossbow] river's haunted

[cant-icle]

Hello! Big fan of your stuff!!! You inspire me so much I'm actually working on a pegoryu fic after years of not even writing OG content... BUT ANYWAY! Can I ask why you HC p5 protag as a Scorpio, specifically born on the 21st of November? Does he have a personality of a Scorpio? I only know my own sign haha. And that date is a particularly bad one for him in game as well. Not hating on your HC, I'm just curious as to your reasoning&trying to wrap my head around writing a blank slate character

hey thanks!!! congrations on coming back into the fanfic pool, the water’s great!!! 

the very very very shallow answer to your question is, perhaps disappointingly, that i really enjoyed the thought of him carrying bday trauma for the rest of his life (: it started out as a mean joke i made to my friends and then i accidentally got serious about it 

the deeper answer is: as a blank slate character you can put just about whatever you want on him and have it stick. the akiras i like to write start out mistrustful and wary, a little walled-off, but with a gooey inner core that’s really just waiting for someone to break through and get into it. i like writing akiras that are passionate, determined, and loyal beyond comprehension. those work well enough with the stereotypical scorpio traits that i’m more than happy to label him as one. 

it’s hard to find a good voice for akira at first! i know i have a couple wildly different ones depending on au, but they all share core traits that make them, i think, recognizable as akiras written by me across the board. my old stuff maybe not as much as the newer ones? probably definitely yeah.  hope this helps! 

[wombathos]

so a while back I started thinking about an AU where Willow recruits Faith after Buffy’s death in S5 and since I wanted to play around with their relationship specifically I wrote something for that, specifically Faith arriving at Buffy’s house the first time. 2.1k words, POV Faith

Same old house. That’s the weirdest part. This place must’ve been smashed up a couple dozen times by now, but they put it together pretty much exactly the same. Faith half-expects Buffy the high school student to come and greet her, all blonde and perky in some floral shirt or pastel coloured tank top or… She swallows. Willow’s hovering behind her and she’s not going to hesitate too much around the little witch, so she enters boldly, as if she owns the place.

Does she? No. Of course not. Faith is just here to do a job. She’s not Buffy, could never be Buffy. Not for lack of trying. It’s hard to imagine trying any harder than Faith has.

There’s no Buffy anywhere. No Joyce either. Willow told her on the way, probably appraising Faith’s reaction all the while. Faith hadn’t let her, instead turning to stare out of the window, hiding her face from Willow, giving herself the moments she needed to compose herself. Joyce had always been good to her. Then Faith had punched her and held her hostage and stolen her daughter’s body and been given a false hug by her and…

Faith steps further into the house, and she’s unsure of where to go. She doesn’t want to let on that she doesn’t belong here, even though she doesn’t. Kitchen’s to the right, living room’s to the left. She should’ve let Willow go in first.

She chooses left, entering the nice, comfy, soft interior of the Summers’ living room. It is a museum of things she has never had, but it’s hard to stay jealous of a dead woman. This is where things are starting to look a little different to how she remembers. Mostly just portraits being arranged in a new way, the couch maybe placed a bit further to the right. She lets herself fall onto that couch, sinking into the soft cushions as she throws down her half-empty travel bag next to her - then wonders whether she’s being disrespectful. It’s hard to ignore Willow who’s moved to hover at a new doorframe - but she tries her best, looking around the living room as if studying it. Mentally, she’s doing a catalogue of sorts, separating the familiar from the unfamiliar items, wondering whether the unfamiliar ones were put there by Joyce before her death, Buffy before her death, or someone else since then. She suspects there’s not much of the latter. This is a house of dead women.

But not entirely. Willow had also explained about the whole Dawn sitch before instructing her never to bring it up again - and it’s an easy instruction to follow. The thought that the girl she knows was never real, or that Faith had never in fact known her at all, that it was all just false memories… That the girl who had acted all sullen around her before suddenly embracing her on Christmas Eve, who was withdrawn and then exuberant and then furious when Faith’s treachery was revealed, the idea that all that is just a lie…

This town’s too weird. It’s mostly terrible memories, anyway, but if she lets herself acknowledge that those ones are lies, where would that lead? How much more would she prefer to forget?

“Would you like something to drink?”

Faith looks around, meets Willow’s eyes. She’s changed too, in ways Faith can’t quite place. Whatever it is, Faith doesn’t trust her - and she knows the sentiment is entirely mutual. “Sure.”

A pause. Willow hasn’t stopped hovering. “What would you like?” she asks, tilting her head from one side to the next and waving her hands around a bit - and it’s all very Willow, somehow, in a way that makes buried resentment flare in her.

“I don’t mind,” says Faith, with a little shake of the head. She almost cringes at the self-conscious gesture.

“Water? Coffee? Juice? Dawnie goes through cartons a week so we’re always well-stocked. I say it’s important for a growing girl.” That whole bit is accompanied by a jaunty raise of a fist and a smile and a change in voice for the last two words and it’s obvious Willow is just as unsure how to act as Faith is. Strange. She’d have thought the long bus ride would’ve been enough to get at least slightly used to the other’s presence but… no such luck.

Faith is about to say that she doesn’t care, but makes an effort. Tries to remember what the polite thing to do would be, though she never was quite sure what that’d be among these people. “I’d love some juice,” she says, aware her lips are twisting into a half-smile.

“Great! It’ll come in just a minute,” says Willow in a tone one might use for a toddler and flees to the kitchen. Faith almost laughs, even though she’s not much better. Dealing with hardened convicts is somehow a lot easier than this.

It takes her about ten seconds and the sound of a fridge opening for her to get restless, so she gets up and decides to have a poke around. They haven’t moved much of Joyce’s knick-knacks around, probably unsurprisingly, and there’s a familiar blend of newer and older objects interspersed between the photos. There’s not a speck of dust to be seen, which means someone here is cleaning more rigorously than Joyce had. Faith wonders who: she doubts it’s Dawn, could imagine that Willow has made the jump from neat to obsessive. Or perhaps someone else. She draws closer to one of the photos, inspecting the grinning faces of Dawn and Buffy Summers looking back at her. Buffy looks younger than Faith ever knew her, and she wonders whether this might still be an LA photo. Dawn’s still a kid, eight maybe by the look of her, possibly a bit older. Buffy’s holding Dawn close, but Dawn doesn’t seem to mind. They could be plenty acrimonious in real life from Faith’s recollections, but here - frozen in time - they’re happy sisters. Or… she supposes she doesn’t remember the two of them, and this photo must also be… is it fake? Just a remnant of some weird-ass magic? How had Buffy felt, looking at this photo and knowing it had never really happened? How does Dawn feel every time she walks past it now?

Speaking of.

Faith hears the footsteps thundering down the stairs and a moment or two later she’s faced with little Dawn Summers herself. She’s still short and still got that massive scowl and it’s like nothing has changed - except, obviously, everything has changed. When she stops several feet away from her, the look she’s giving Faith is enough to make her turn away from the photos.

“Hey Dawn,” she says, just as Willow too enters the living room, her trepidation obvious. Faith assumes Willow must have let Dawn know, but that can only do so much. She wonders whether she should offer condolences, knows that might be a bad idea but is about to do so anyway - yet Dawn cuts her off before she has the chance to.

“Here to murder more people?” she asks. Her arms are folded so tightly she might as well be hugging herself and Faith decides to cut her some slack.

“I hope I can save some,” she say, doing a forced smile. Willow watches them like they’re two grenades that might set each other off or… could grenades do that? Well. Two things that could make each other explode, anyway.

“Faith is here to help,” says Willow and it sounds like something she’s repeated a hundred times already. Her smile is no less forced than Faith’s.

Dawn takes a step towards Faith in a very ‘I’m not scared of you’ way - and maybe she isn’t. Must take a lot to frighten a girl like Dawn. “Didn’t do a lot helping last time, did you?”

Lifetime of amends, Faith reminds herself. It’s her first time back in Sunnydale. Time to do the whole damn guilt tour. “Yeah, well, I’ve changed.”

“You should still be in prison.”

“Maybe,” she admits. “But the Hellmouth needs a slayer so… here I am.”

Dawn shakes her head and she’s giving Faith a look of disgust that would put her sister to shame. “You think you can just come here and play the hero?”

“I’m not -”

“You’ll never be half the slayer my sister was!”

And with that Dawn turns tail and sprints back upstairs. Willow yells after her but Faith isn’t paying attention any more, exactly as stunned as Dawn wanted her to be. That kid sure knows how to deliver one hell of a kill shot.

Willow’s turned to Faith and it’s time for the platitudes. “She doesn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, she does.”

For a moment the witch considers arguing, wisely realises there’s no point. Instead she weakly says, “She’ll come around.”

It’s tempting to make a stinging remark, but Faith just shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Willow hesitates, looking as if she wants to say something else, but decides against it. Instead, she gestures towards the kitchen. “Your orange juice is ready.”

Faith almost laughs because Willow makes it sound like she’s prepared a fancy meal or something, but that’d be rude and she’s determined not to be rude. She nods and enters the kitchen, picking up the glass and sipping at the sickly sweet liquid. Willow has poured in a generous amount and Faith isn’t sure whether she’ll get it all down. With slight irritation, she realises Willow is hovering behind her again.

“Tara will be back soon,” she says and Faith turns around mid-sip. Once the sip’s all done, she nods her comprehension. “You remember Tara, right? You briefly met when - well, I guess technically it wasn’t you then, except it was when we were with Buffy, and that was actually Buffy-you, and - and…” She trails off. They’ve finally reached peak awkward.

“Yeah, I remember her,” says Faith, doing her best to salvage the unsalvageable. “You two still…” She waves her free index finger from one side to the other. Willow stares at it, almost blushing, and Faith is tempted to clarify that she meant ‘Are you still together?’, not ‘Are you still boning?’.

“We’re dating,” says Willow. “You know. Two girls, dating, all normal style.” She jiggles her hands around again.

Faith very nearly does laugh then. She’s curious whether Willow is still this self-conscious around everyone or whether it’s a special privilege reserved for her. “Right,” she says. She gives Willow an ironic salute with the glass before sipping at it again. Willow stares at her as if trying to figure out whether she’s being mocked. She does a little shrug, then gestures at the door before heading out, which is probably her way of saying ‘I’ll wait for Tara’.

So Faith is left unsupervised, for pretty much the first time since leaving LA beyond the occasional restroom breaks at whatever miserable pitstop they had to change buses at. Willow had been watching her even then, maybe thinking that Faith would make a run for it. Maybe she’s waiting outside right now, magic held at the ready. Faith wonders whether she could take her. She’d like to think so, but magic’s a messy business and from the scant indication she’s gotten, Willow hasn’t been idle in developing her powers. No wonder they sent her. She wonders what Buffy thought about that. She wonders what Buffy thought about a lot of things.

Faith takes another gulp of orange juice because for some reason she can feel tears coming and she doesn’t even know how to begin dealing with that. She can’t let herself think about how Buffy and her had parted ways, how Buffy had never forgiven her, how she would probably hate for her to be here and would much rather Faith were still stuck in her cell. Faith is here because she has a job to do. She’s here to take responsibility, to fulfil the role she was always meant to. This is the best chance she’s going to get to make amends.

Some orange juice spills down Faith’s chin. Willow’s talking outside. Presumably Tara has arrived. Dawn must still be upstairs, sulking. Or maybe grieving. Who knows when she’ll come down again. Faith needs to wipe away the juice before the two witches come in here. First impressions and all that. Instead, she’s just staring out of the window of Buffy Summers’ kitchen in Sunnydale as she hears the voices of Buffy’s friends. She’s never belonged here. None of these people have blood on their hands like she does. Buffy went to her death a better person than Faith had been in a long time.

But she’s here now. There’s nothing else for her to do but try to make this work. Faith swallows and finally wipes away the orange juice - which had begun dripping down from her chin onto the spotless floor. She wipes her shoe over the spot. Time to meet the witches. Time to do her job. She can’t ever be Buffy. But maybe, just maybe, Faith could be the slayer.

[bookburnt]

a primer course on T.MA for my mutuals who followed me from other blogs and would like to know what the fuck i’m talking about!  (hi, guys.  love you.)  GONNA BE SPOILER-HEAVY IN HERE.

First off, big ups to the T.MA wiki, which you can consult on anything here, but this post is intended to serve as a very basic overview of the concepts relevant to this blog without forcing y'all to go into wiki levels of detail.  The first part of this post is some general TMA terms and concepts, and the second part is some characters who have been relevant to Gerry's story specifically.  If you're here for a better understanding of Gerry’s arc and don't care so much about the worldbuilding, scroll down to where I start talking about “who’s...?” and that should help you out.

what’s a “Leitner?”  A Leitner is a book but spooky.  They make bad things happen and, optionally, give you weird powers.  They're usually tied to one of the fourteen(ish) Entities, which I will get into in a bit.  Gerard hates these goddamn books, and has a knack for finding them and destroying them.  His mother, Mary Keay, ran an antique bookstore that did serious business in them.

what’s an “avatar?” An avatar is a (former?) human working closely with one of the Entities. Over time, the influence of their Entity changes them, often granting them certain powers in exchange for a psychological and physiological need to serve their Entity.

what are these “Entities?” / what’s this “Hunt?”  Put as simply as possible, the Entities are, like... fear elementals.  There are roughly 14 different entities, though the boundaries between them aren’t clearly drawn in all circumstances.  As follows, a quick overview:

The Eye. Fear of being surveiled.  The need to know the answers to questions that may destroy you.  The Eye is tied to the Magnus Institute. Its avatars can have the ability to magically Know things, understand all languages, and compel others to answer any questions they ask.  Gerry was tied to the Eye and had some capacity for Knowing stuff, but wasn’t fully its avatar - or if he was, he refused to feed it, which must have hastened his death.

The Desolation.  Fire, but without the warm fuzzy bits.  Pure unhinged destruction.  Desolation avatars can and will set you on fire with their minds.  Gerry’s extensive burn scars are the result of fucking around with a Desolation cultist and finding out.   (The cultist also fucked around with Gerry and found out.  He’s not around anymore.)  

The Hunt.  Being tracked by something that won't stop until it kills you.  The thrill of the chase.  Hunt avatars are capable of killing other avatars, even those who would otherwise be unkillable.  The possibility of Gerry being tied to the Hunt is never discussed in canon, but I’ve got my theories.  (That last phrase is a link to a post discussing those theories, it just isn't showing up like a link on desktop for some reason.)

The End.  Death and dying.  Manifestations of the End often involve disruptions of the natural processes of life and death.  For instance, the fucked-up necromancy book that Gerry got trapped in after dying was an outcropping of the End.

The Corruption.  Bugs, disease, rot, etc.  The Corruption's avatars may spread disease wherever they go, or they might just be chock full of worms.  Potential of controlling a worm army.

The Flesh.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a body.  Cannibalism. Flesh avatars may be hulking, twisted parodies of the human form.  They might steal your bones, turn you inside out, eat you, or all of the above.

The Distortion.  The inherent weirdness of existing in a mind.  Doors that shouldn't be there.  Getting lost.  Being unable to trust your own thoughts.  Distortion avatars look, well, distorted when seen in reflections or through glass.  Will probably try to get you to go through a door that wasn't there before.  You won't like what's on the other side.

The Slaughter.  War.  Violence.  Man's inhumanity to man.  The Slaughter often manifests in groups as well as in individuals, so you could get an episode of mass hysteria where an entire small town turns to butchering one another, or you could get an office assistant who just aches to do murder.

The Web.  Spiders.  Being controlled by external forces.  Can operate in extremely subtle ways.  Can also just be an unkillable spider who wants you to have a bad time.

The Vast.  Really big things.  Heights.  Your own terrifying insignificance on the cosmic scale.

The Buried.  Claustrophobia.  Being buried alive.

The Lonely.  Being completely alone.  Like, completely alone, and never coming back.

The Dark. What it says on the tin.

The Stranger.  Something that's not quite right.  A joke that you're not in on.  Clowns and/or mannequins that might kill you and take your skin.

BONUS: The Extinction. While the other 14 fears have been established for a while (the most recent is the Flesh, which only really came into its own with the advent of mass meat farming), the Extinction is a nascent entity born of anxiety around the idea of the human race destroying itself, and/or being replaced by something else. The boundaries of what constitutes an Extinction manifestation, rather than just a warping of one of the other fears, are unclear.

what’s a “ritual?”  Rituals are ways the Entities’ followers and avatars try to influence the world, usually with the end goal of making our world somewhere their Entity can live and feast full-time instead of just sporadically popping in.

what’s the “fearpocalypse?”  The only successful ritual to date, as of the end of S4.  Possibly the only successful ritual ever, given that it ended the world as we know it and let all 14 fears fully through the gate to fuck everything all the way up.  The sky is full of eyeballs now and that's not even the biggest problem.  This happened a while after Gerry’s death, but I have a verse where, due to his previous ties to the End and the general befuckening, Gerry is brought back to have a bad time with everyone else.

who’s Mary Keay?  Gerard's mother, founder and proprietor of Pinhole Books.  Had ambitions of starting a dynasty of supernatural power, starting with her only son Gerard, who ended up having other ideas.  Flayed herself in a ritual to make herself “beyond death” via the fucked-up necromancy book mentioned earlier.  Gerard was primed to take the fall for her seeming murder, but was let go after the book disappeared from evidence and several key witnesses retracted their testimony.  Despite the ritual being incomplete, Mary remained tethered to the world of the living for five years before Gertrude Robinson finally wrapped that up.

who’s Gertrude Robinson?  Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, and a stone-cold BAMF with a habit of sacrificing those close to her for (her idea of) the greater good.  The late Eric Delano asked her to look after his son Gerry, so naturally she let him live in torment with his abuser’s revenant for five fucking years, then swooped in when he was truly desperate.  She got rid of Mary Keay for good, and got Gerard to travel the world with her attempting to prevent various apocalyptic rituals.  The two would often pose as mother and son to strangers.         Being tied to the Eye, Gertrude seemed to be aware of Gerard’s impending death.  After he passed away, she bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book and left him behind.  (More on that here.) Gertrude was shot to death about a year later while trying to burn the Magnus Institute down and thereby prevent its head, Elias Bouchard, from doing anything apocalyptic.  (Tragically, she did not succeed.  SEE:  “fearpocalypse.”)

who’s Eric Delano?  Gerry’s father.  Died too early to ever really get to know Gerry, despite the sacrifices he made to restructure his life for fatherhood.  (We don’t need to go into the why of it here, but he did have to gouge his eyes out to try to be a stay-at-home dad.  And he did it.  We stan.)  Unfortunately, he’d fallen in love with Mary Keay, who used him to produce an heir for her planned empire, then murdered him with a pair of garden shears and bound him into that fucked-up necromancy book.  She later passed his page off to Gertrude Robinson, who spoke with him.  In that conversation, he asked her to look after Gerry and begged her to burn his page, as being bound into the book was a world of suffering. 

who’s Jurgen Leitner?  A rich, reclusive Norwegian who thought it would be cool and smart to start a library explicitly for corralling forces beyond human comprehension.  (He was wrong, and also stupid.)  Collected spooky books and put his name in them, giving them their common name.  Gerard hates this guy, associating him with the books that dominated his mother’s mind and indirectly ruined his life.  He hunted Leitner down and nearly beat him to death for personal reasons.  Upon meeting Leitner, he came away with the impression that this was just a scared old man, and couldn’t possibly be actually responsible for Jurgen Leitner’s library.  Ultimately, he chose to spare Leitner's life.  Unless we're talking about my canon-divergent Hunter!Gerry au, in which case he did not.

        Anyways, hope this has been helpful.  There's... a lot going on in TMA, but hopefully I've hit the parts that are most relevant to my writing here.  If you have any questions about canon, please feel free to ask!

[albapuella]

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience. 

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her. 

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly. 

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally. 

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture. 

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally). 

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake. 

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning. 

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.” 

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could. 

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should. 

He stayed where he was. 

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too. 

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals. 

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them. 

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him. 

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic. 

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time. 

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink?  Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower??? 

[outranks]

i hope this isnt a weird request but like..... could you write f!dep/sharky/john threesome pls? Cult or non cult au, your choice.

NONNY LISTEN, THIS REQUEST CHANGED MY DAMN LIFE. I never even thought about John/f!dep/Sharky before and now?? I talk about it all the time. so, thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I hope this is what you wanted???

There are a lot of benefits to John’s ridiculous oversized bed, made to fit at least two grown men and their smaller girlfriend with room to spare. It means that Rook can stretch out at night, practically spread eagle without touching anyone. And it means Sharky can twist and turn, nearly rotating halfway to the other end of the bed, without waking anyone up. And it means that John can get a full night’s sleep without getting kicked or squeezed by either of his chosen bed mates.

Or at least it should mean that.

More often than not Rook ends up draped over John, trying to leach the warmth from him as he is the worst blanket hog. And Sharky will have somehow ended up with his head at the other end of the bed and his foot somewhere near John’s throat. It’s always an accident, and Rook is trying to get better, but she hasn’t slept as well in years and sometimes maybe it’s important to leave well enough alone.

Except how there are times, though few and far between, that she’ll wake up to find someone missing.

Usually John.

Rook yawns and stretches, trying to pull herself out of sleep enough to crawl out of bed. “Where’s John?” she murmurs, poking Sharky in the side. “What’d you do with him.”

Sharky grunts, dragging the corner of a blanket over his head. Absolutely useless at this hour. The weather has been growing colder and John’s house is frustratingly difficult to heat and Rook knows the floor outside of the bedroom will be cold. She really doesn’t want to step on it.

Reluctantly, she does so anyway.

Rook grabs her pajama bottoms from where they were tossed on the floor earlier, and pulls Sharky’s hoodie from the chair it’s draped over. It’s not that she minds walking around the house naked, but there are always guards wandering the property and with Sharky around they’ve already seen enough. He has a habit of stepping out onto the balcony without a stitch of clothing on because the sunlight feels good on my junk, Rook.

Eventually John is going to stop finding him so endearing and start siding with her on the matter.

“John?” she calls softly, not wanting to wake up Sharky even though he absolutely deserves it. The floor in the hallway is as cold on her feet as she thought it would be, and sometimes being right just isn’t worth it. She checks the other bedrooms first, feeling a little guilty for poking her head into Joseph’s room when he’s not even there, before heading downstairs.

There’s a soft glow coming from the living room and the crackle of a fire in the fireplace. Meaning that’s where John is. From the moment the weather started to turn toward winter he’s been finding every way he can to make himself, and the house, warmer. It’s not even that cold yet, but if John wants to start a fire Rook can’t stop him.

She’s tried.

But with Sharky on John’s side it’s two against one. At least the Peggies have started practicing fire safety drills since Sharky became a regular presence at the ranch. So Rook will at least give them credit for that. The Peggies take John’s safety very seriously.

“John?” Rook steps into the living room, spotting John stretched out on the sofa, one arm behind his head. There’s a book on the floor beside him, and she would think he’s asleep except for how he turns to look at her as she gets closer. “What are you doing down here?”

John sighs, long and weary, though Rook suspects he’s only being dramatic for emphasis. “The people I have chosen to share my bed with were, apparently, both raised in a barn,” he says without a hint of true venom. “Sharky kicked me in the shoulder— I can’t even say how he got that turned around— and you cling so hard I thought you might strangle me.”

“You steal all the blankets and I was cold.”

“I— they’re my blankets.”

Rook hums, not willing to argue that specific point when she’s still partially asleep and John looks so comfortable. Instead she considers the best way to drape herself over him without hitting any sensitive spots. She ends up wedging her knee between John’s hip and the back of the sofa, and bracing herself on his thighs. “I guess we’ll just have to sleep out here,” she says.

John only gives the faintest protest as Rook makes herself comfortable on top of him. “The two of you are so—” he shifts until he can get an arm around her waist, fingertips just brushing the exposed skin of her side where the hoodie has ridden up.

“Charming?” Rook offers, “Delightful?”

“Frustrating.”

“Yeah, but you like us anyway.”

Rook can’t really see John’s face from the position she’s in, but she knows him well enough to guess at the soft, pleased little smile he’ll be wearing. The one that only shows up when he thinks no one is looking. Even after they’ve made all their vows and promises, he’s still guarded around them.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

There’s a creak of the floorboards and Sharky slowly walking into the rook, naked as the day he was born. “I guess we’re moving the party down here,” he says through a yawn while rubbing at his eyes. “The bed was empty and I can’t say that I like that.”

“I tried to wake you,” Rook says, reaching a hand out to Sharky and pulling him closer.

“I can be difficult to wake, I admit,” he says. “So, is this a late night, in front of the fire, sex thing? Because I could get it up for that if it is.”

“It’s a sleeping on the couch because the two of you don’t know how to sleep like normal people in a bed thing,” John says.

Rook considers the position she’s in— John between her thighs and Sharky standing completely bare beside her. “It could be a sex thing.”

“Great,” Sharky says, nearly flinging himself onto the sofa, sandwiching Rook between himself and John. “You always say the sweetest things.”

“Sharky.” Rook can’t decide between laughing and trying to push him off. On the one hand, there’s not a lot they can do like this, but on the other hand it’s almost nice having her two favorite men pressed so close. Except for John’s annoyed huffs and attempts to wriggle himself free. Being at the bottom of the pile probably isn’t the most comfortable place.

John gets a knee up and one arm free, pushing at the two of them. “Can’t you behave?” he asks, dumping them on the floor.

Rook laughs, even as she hits the ground, though her fall is broken almost completely by Sharky. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you chose us.” At least for the most part. And either way, she knows John wouldn’t have them any other way, no matter how much he likes to complain. “We should probably take this back to the bedroom.”

“No need,” Sharky says, pushing off the floor and grabbing the blanket from the sofa and one of the pillows John had been using. “We’ve got a nice fire going, we’ve got this nice set up—” he carefully lays out the blanket on the floor in front of the fire— “and, we have all the supplies we need.”

“How do we—” Rook starts, only to be cut off by Sharky shuffling over to the small table beside the sofa and pulling out a bottle of lube and some condoms.

“Gotta be prepared for anything,” he says.

John sits up, looking at Sharky with an expression that is absolutely perplexed. “You stashed that in here in case we decided to have sex in the living room?”

“Again,” Rook adds.

Sharky grins, tossing both items to John. “I stashed the necessary supplies in every room of the house, just in case,” he says. “Including Broseph’s room because you never know when he might need it.”

“Oh, God,” John says quietly.

Rook tries very hard not to laugh, especially at the utterly pained look on John’s face. Is it the idea of his brother using Sharky’s gifts that’s the problem, or the idea of the Father using them? There’s definitely a distinction there, but Rook is still trying to sort it all out. The Seeds’ relationships are a tangled web of unnecessary complications that she hasn’t even begun to unravel. “That was very thoughtful of you, Sharky,” she says instead.

“I’m a thoughtful guy,” Sharky says, grabbing Rook’s ankles and pulling her onto her back so swiftly that it startles another laugh out if her. “And I plan to show you just how thoughtful I can be.”

“Yeah?” Rook hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her pajama pants and pushes them down her hips as far as she can, only to be helped along by Sharky nearly ripping them the rest of the way off of her. “So what’s your— oh.” She feels light and practically giddy when Sharky lifts her up, hooking her legs over his shoulder, and running the flat of his tongue over her clit. “Fuck.” Her nails dig into the soft blanket that’s been laid out on the floor, needing something to hold onto.

She bites her lip, trying to stifle the whines that keep slipping from her throat. Sharky isn’t going slow at all, his lips and tongue are so wet and eager to make her come.

There’s movement beside her and John finally joins them in front of the fire, cast all in warm light. “I suppose it’s worth putting off sleep for this,” he says, running one hand through Sharky’s hair and the other up under her hoodie to gently rub at her breast. “Do you know what you want?”

Rook barely knows her own name. Sharky’s mouth is skilled beyond her comprehension, even after they’ve been together for a while. Every lick and gentle suck has her breath hitching on sobs she doesn’t get a chance to rein in before he does something else that has her soaking wet and hovering right on the edge. “I— fuck— I want you,” she says, wishing desperately for some kind of leverage to push against Sharky’s tongue. “Both of you, in me.”

Sharky gives another wet lick to her clit before pulling off, just long enough to say, “I like the sound of that.” And to emphasize his point, he moves a hand off her thigh to tease at both of her entrances.

“Good, I—” Rook can hardly breathe as she squirms on Sharky’s tongue. “I—” She’s so close she can’t hold any words in her mouth, especially not with Sharky’s fingers just the barest amount inside of her. It’s not enough and she reaches out, grabbing for John and pulling him down into a kiss that’s frantic and messy as her orgasm hits her fast. She moans, rocking her hips to ride out every last wave as Sharky draws it out with his clever tongue and John catches the sounds she’s making before they ever have a chance to escape.

“Exactly as I planned,” Sharky says, slowly lowering her to the floor and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “My ideas are always this good.”

“That’s not—” John sighs, slapping a condom to Sharky’s chest. “Come on, we’re not done here.” His hand travels down between Rook’s legs to touch at where she’s wet and still aching to be filled.

And she hasn’t even had a chance to catch her breath.

Rook sits, with a little assistance from John, then gets up onto shaking thighs to position herself in Sharky’s lap.

“You good?” Sharky asks, running a palm up and down her side.

Rook nods, eyes slipping closed, and sinks onto his cock with a groan. She’s still too close to her release, feeling right back on the edge with the gentle slide of him against her walls. “Fuck,” she whispers, knowing damn well that between the three of them, she’s the one who won’t be able to last very long. “Yeah, yes, fuck.” This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and it certainly won’t be the last, but Rook is still getting used to keeping up with two men determined to have her naked and wanting as often as possible.

“I’ll take it slow,” John murmurs, pressing against her back, fingers wet with lube as he trails over her ass, gently slipping inside. “I’ll be good for you.”

Sharky snorts. “You say such sweet things.”

Rook huffs a laugh, curling closer to Sharky as John carefully stretches her open. “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Sharky says, as if there isn’t pink staining his cheeks. It’s still hard to admit how easily John’s charm caught both of them so unaware, though it remains the best thing to happen in their lives. No matter how embarrassed Sharky gets at the thought of it.

John brushes her hair off her shoulder and leaves a gentle kiss against her neck. “Just relax,” he says, lining up his cock and slowly pushing in until he’s fully seated inside of her. “There you go.”

All the air feels punched out of Rook’s lungs and there’s a fullness she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to. She makes a sound like a whine, fingers spasming where she’s started to grip Sharky’s biceps. In the morning there will be bruises exactly the size of her hands and she knows she’ll be proud to see them. But for now, she’s just trying to keep from falling apart between these two men. “God,” she says, finding her voice for a moment. “I’m—”

John presses another kiss to her neck, reaching around her to play with her clit. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Rook shivers, unclenching one hand from Sharky’s arm to grab for John’s waist. “Just… go slow.”

“Of course,” Sharky says, sliding his hands to her ass and spreading her open. “We are going to make you feel so good.”

“I already— fuck.” As slow as they’re going, there’s nothing that can ever prepare her for that first, perfectly in sync, push inside of her. Rook is stuffed full and she can already feel herself adjusting to them, wanting more. And John hasn’t stopped touching her clit which is only helping to speed up that process. She’s going to come on both of their cocks and soon. “Yeah, yes, just— you can— go faster.”

“You said you wanted us to take things slow,” John says, dragging his cock out almost torturously slow before pushing back in like he has all the time in the world. “We only wish to make you happy, my dear.”

There’s not a lot of leverage Rook can get, but she manages to lift herself enough to start her own rhythm, making both of her men groan. It’s music to her ears. If she’s going to come apart between them, then she’ll take them down with her. “Come on,” she says, finally feeling Sharky tighten his hold on her so that he can have her bouncing on his lap, his cock dragging perfectly against her walls. “I—” love you, she wants to say, but instead she drags him into a wet, open mouthed kiss, letting him swallow down all of the breathless words she can’t say.

John laughs again, soft and quiet, picking up his own pace and changing the rhythm again. He tangles his fingers in her hair, pulling her back until her moans are exposed to the open air once more. “Think you’ll last long?”

Rook can barely think at all, but she knows that she won’t. Especially not with the way John continues to rub at her clit and Sharky has started snapping his hips up to fuck her deep. She grinds down, clenching around them as her muscles begin to twitch and her breath catches. There’s an ache inside of her that only they have ever been able to calm. “Harder,” she says, and that must finally be enough because John places a hand flat against her back, pressing her to Sharky’s chest, changing the angle.

“Damn,” Sharky says, “guess it’s gonna be like that,” and moves her up and down on his cock while John fucks her just the right side of too hard.

Rook’s mouth drops open, unable to get any sound out. She’s so close that she can do nothing but ride her two men as John’s clever fingers finally pull her back over the edge. She goes taut for a moment as the pressure builds and then crashes through her in waves. It’s too much and for a moment she thinks she’s going to break apart; every nerve alight with currents of electricity. And somehow, impossibly, all she wants is to pull John and Sharky in deeper. Like they should be trying to claim her from the inside out. She moans, feeling Sharky’s cock become wetter with her release, as the rest of her body becomes pliant and loose.

“Fuck,” John hisses in her ear, his own rhythm speeding and becoming stuttered.

“Yeah,” Sharky says, “fuck.”

Rook would laugh at them if she had the energy, but all she can do is hold on while they use her for their own pleasure. It’s good, though John still had his finger pressed to her clit like he plans to make her come again. As much as that idea has some appeal, especially with the little aftershocks of her orgasm, she doesn’t have the energy for a round three.

Not that she wants him to stop.

Sharky groans loud, pulling her down and slamming his hips up to meet her, and goes still. His face is flushed, cheeks pink even in the low light of the dying fire. He’s cute and Rook can’t help but to kiss him again.

John’s breath is coming out in soft pants against the back of her neck, practically in time with every hard push of his cock inside of her. He moves his hand from her clit, running slick fingers along her belly and up, over her breasts, before cupping her chin and turning her head just enough that he can share in the kiss. There’s a sound caught in his throat, halfway between a moan and a growl, that threatens to break free as he gives another demanding thrust, and another, and presses himself flush to her back as he comes.

They’re sweaty and sticky, and Rook knows she’s going to be a mess, but she feels like she’s never going to want to move from this spot.

“I would live in your pussy if I could,” Sharky says, the only thing louder than John’s breathing while he tries to catch his breath.

“Thanks?” That’s definitely a compliment, though Rook is too tired to understand it.

“You’re such a romantic,” John says, a soft hint of humor in his voice, no matter how much he likes to pretend otherwise. He is utterly charmed by the both of them.

“I hear that a lot.”

John hums, bracing one hand on Rook’s lower back to pull out slowly. She is probably going to be sore later, but it’s always worth it.

“Come on,” he says, gently lifting Rook off of Sharky’s softening cock and helping her stretch out in front of the fire.

“We really should get cleaned up,” she says, not making a single move to do anything about it.

Sharky ties off his used condom and tosses it in the vague direction of the trash can, like John isn’t going to lecture them about doing that. Again. Except he doesn’t. Instead John follows Sharky’s lead, with a small shrug, and joins them stretched out beside Rook on the floor.

“This is the life,” Sharky says, finding a way to sprawl across the both of them, careful to keep elbows and knees away from any sensitive parts.

Rook yawns and shifts closer to John. “I guess we’re staying down here.”

Sharky doesn’t say anything, but he does pat her on the hip which is probably an answer.

“I’m getting a bigger bed,” John murmurs, curling an arm around Sharky and pressing his face to Rook’s hair. “No more sex on the floor.”

“Yeah,” Rook says, knowing perfectly well they’ll have sex anywhere in the house, “sure.”

John grumbles, but doesn’t say anything more, and Sharky is already back asleep.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

NOTES: Witches, Chapter 8

One of the most annoying things about Dual Destinies is the constant secret keeping where the character you’re playing as knows way more than you and you aren’t even given the hints to figure out what’s going on until it’s dropped on you as another big shocking twist. Like Edgeworth asks Phoenix to try and clear Blackquill of suspicion, but then Phoenix is shocked to find out from Juniper that Athena has any connection at all to the Space Center, like, how the fuck much does or doesn’t he actually know. We never actually know!

And that bothered me, too, so I hashed it out on my own terms and I’ve tried to weave it into this fic so far, but also since everyone reading this (I presume) already knows the plot of the game, I can jump ahead and spell it all out.

[maybe go read Chapter 8 first if you read the Fae AU]

(but this is more a meta post than AU-heavy so if you don’t and are just curious what I’ve done with this, it’s comprehensible)

My personal interpretation is that Phoenix doesn’t know jackshit.

This is Phoenix’s default state so it kind of works.

(Edgeworth does say in Turnabout for Tomorrow that he regrets not being able to tell Phoenix about the “spy and sabotage” angle because that was highly classified, which implies that he did tell Phoenix a little more about the case. But that’s only an implication so I’m just tossing that aside because it’s easier to make sense of everything that way. Anyway.)

Even before this chapter I tried to drop in a couple hints that Phoenix is very much flying in the dark with Blackquill’s case. From Chapter 1:

That was a case on tight lockdown, details unknown to Phoenix, but whatever happened was damning for Prosecutor Blackquill, who pled guilty and was convicted in barely a few hours.

And then Chapter 3, when he’s on the phone with Edgeworth:

“I know, but you know I’m very good at keeping secrets. Which – no, that’s not my pitch to get security clearance, that’s my pitch for you to just tell me even though I don’t have clearance t—” He sits up slowly, laboriously, and saying nothing, obviously being chewed out by whoever is on the other end of the line. “I know, I know. I get it. I’m just telling you that solving a cold case where I’m not allowed to know much more than the defendant’s name is not going to be a cakewalk.”

-

Whatever’s going on with the government in the abstract and the Space Center is not good. In Cosmic Turnabout, Cosmos gets the threat that the center is gonna get attacked and the government is like “no, fuck you, do the launch anyway” and Cosmos has to take matters into his own hands to try and keep his people safe because The Government doesn’t care. And then the entire disaster of the HAT-1 launch, the sabotage and the murder, was covered up. 

So what I’ve determined is that the government very much doesn’t want the Cosmos Space Center to be connected to any murder stuff. Edgeworth canonically wasn’t allowed to tell Phoenix about the phantom, but here I’m stretching and extrapolating that to: Edgeworth isn’t allowed to tell Phoenix anything that he could use to connect the crime back to the Space Center. Which includes the name Cykes, both the victim and the little one who barged into the trial screaming that Blackquill was innocent. When, in Chapter 3, Phoenix mentions security clearance, the trouble isn’t that Phoenix doesn’t have clearance with the Prosecutors Office. Edgeworth’s Chief Prosecutor. He could and would tell Phoenix, if he also didn’t have the ~government leaning on him.

-

Which now brings us back to Chapter 8, and most importantly, Edgeworth’s reaction to learning Athena’s name. Because Phoenix doesn’t know jackshit, but we, the readers, do, and I’m hoping that you could guess: Edgeworth, even at this point, knows the name Cykes, and more than that, he specifically knows the name Athena Cykes.

Because, I decided, and here’s where I’m really taking a leap away from the bits we get of canon, that after Blackquill is convicted, the matter of the phantom case is given to Edgeworth. 

Edgeworth’s got the credentials, honestly. He’s dealt with assassins (and he knew about de Killer even before Farewell, My Turnabout) - he’s dealt with several international incidents (a smuggling ring, arresting a diplomat; that entire fuckery with the president of Zheng Fa) - and he’s proven to be a damn good prosecutor. He’s the best person we know of to pick it up.

And actually, if I’m considering it, between Shih-na and the president’s body double, Edgeworth also has decent experience with people literally not being who they seem, and that’s the phantom’s entire MO. 

So Edgeworth is privy to the details of Blackquill’s trial (one of the very few people who weren’t there who’s allowed to know) in case it could in any way help him with the phantom case. Though since the rocket launch happened, they’re all pretty sure that the phantom will have simply disappeared, with little more they can do on that front for now. So Edgeworth has some level of personal investment in Blackquill’s case, more than the “he’s the other catalyst for the dark age of the law” because honestly fuck that plotline, that when he’s Chief Prosecutor he’s determined to do something about it. And so Edgeworth knows the victim’s name was Metis Cykes, and that her daughter, Athena, knew something. 

And then Phoenix, in Europe, meets Athena Cykes.

And that’s the other thing for Chapter 8 - that Edgeworth acquiesces to give Athena his contact info too, only after getting her name. Because he knows that name. And he can’t tell Phoenix, but still, he figures, if they keep in touch with Ms Cykes, help her out and gain her trust - well, maybe eventually he can ask her about Blackquill.

-

I don’t think canon actually tells us how well Athena and Edgeworth know each other, if at all, even though Phoenix was abroad with Edgeworth when he met Athena, but personally, I am of the opinion that they know each other quite well and that Athena looks up to and admires Edgeworth just as much as she does Phoenix.

Mostly because that makes it that much more heartbreaking when Edgeworth the one so callously laying forth the charges that she murdered her mother and then tried to disassemble her on the lab equipment.

[kleeboy]

okay im deleting and reposting this because i put a swear word in the tags and it wasnt even showing up in searches for my personal, and i don’t trust the mobile editor to fix my problems but its time 4 me to make a post

Here's what I’ve got for a Thunderbirds D&D AU! I'm not gonna get into numbers and stats and levels because I do that enough when I play normal d&d and I'm gay and tired. Also, there’s probably gonna be a touch of rule bending not only to reconcile d&d with the Thunderbirds canon but just to boost the fun factor a bit. It’s not like we’re setting up a playable campaign so it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re not making it unrecognisable as part of the d&dverse. At that point, you might as well just call it a fantasy AU (still lit tho lmao). This is mostly TOS based but I’ll add some notes on TAG stuff now and then in italics because I’m here to provide. It’s hefty, so everything's under the cut. Hopefully comprehensible.

IR (presumably going by some other name but we’ll just stick with that for sake of ease) is still a rescue organisation - it operates on a somewhat smaller scale but access to magic means it’s got a pretty big reach for typical d&d technology. It’s centred around an ancient deity that few people have heard of and even fewer worship. There’s only one known temple dedicated to said deity and it had been abandoned for a long time before they found it, so it’s currently being restored - if rather agonizingly slowly. Anyway, IR is deity-based because nothing screams “fight for a cause” like paladins! They’re paladins, mostly, is what I’m saying.

Jeff is likely an ex-adventurer, probably a paladin but I’m seriously considering cleric just for interest’s sake so sue me, I love clerics. His party did some pretty cool stuff back in the day, and adventuring pays well as long as you don’t die, so he’s pretty well off. He left the party and settled down in one place when Scott was born, and the rest of them presumably disbanded and went about their own lives eventually. Or maybe they’re still out there causing a ruckus. Who knows. Pretty easy to just say “and he’s not there anymore” for TAG, rationalise his disappearance as you please. Either way, at some point he decided to start an organisation that would make saving lives a bit more structured than the usual “Let's hope a squad of adventurers stumbles on our predicament” that people have been relying on.

Scott is a Battle Master archetype fighter who multiclassed into paladin. Battle Master provides the most appropriate mechanics for a field leader, and also seems like the sort of thing Scott would have been doing previous to IR. He’s the least proficient spellcaster of the group if only by virtue of his class, but access to paladin magic gives his fighting an extra kick which, along with the Battle Master maneuvers, makes him pretty damn dangerous with a sword. It also means he can cast Find Steed, and because said steed’s form can go beyond normal when permitted by the DM and we’re making the rules here I’m giving him a pegasus, which is about the fastest flying mount you could get as far as the monster manual goes. A roc would just be too much. Very VERY cool. But too much.

Virgil is a College of Lore bard into paladin. When it comes to support classes, nothing beats a College of Lore bard for versatility. He’s got the range, darling. Slap an arsenal of magic items on that and you’re well on your way to the d&d equivalent of Thunderbird 2. He has some good offensive spells and weapon training but mostly works to keep others from getting hurt. With a high constitution, the Tough feat, good armour and a shield he pretty much becomes a mobile wall to be put between danger and anyone who can’t take too many hits. Find Steed again lets me give him something interesting to ride, and what better than an owlbear. A big one. Not quite as appropriate stat-wise as the pegasus for Scott but when it comes to aesthetics I’m yet to find something as good as a bear-shaped and -sized owl.

John is predominantly a Divination wizard, with a low paladin level - two maximum - giving him access to a lot of powerful magic but leaving him, how do you say, squishy. Divination is gameplay-wise pretty underwhelming, with not many spells to its name, but for someone whose job is centred around keeping an eye on things, the ability to see very far away and receive premonitions is gonna be useful. The system by which distress calls are sent is giving me some concept trouble but when it comes to receiving it’s as easy as a focus with some capability to project images and sound, gear already necessary to cast Scrying. So, as in canon, rather than going out on missions (at least for the most part), it’s John’s job to keep tabs on incoming signals and active operations. This is all based in the previously mentioned temple - out of the way enough to let me call it a T5 equivalent. He also has the secondary job of making sure nothing else tries to take up residence in the decrepit building. They had to clear it of goblins the first time. As far as Eos goes I don’t have room for all my thoughts (so many) but let’s call her a sentient magic item. Additionally, TAG John probs gets a level or two in cleric.

Gordon is a paladin into druid, Circle of the Land (Coast). He and Alan didn't have any previous class levels before becoming paladins. Neither of his classes give any bonuses for it beyond proficiency for paladins but nobody can stop me from making his primary weapon a longbow, plus the Sharpshooter feat is helpful. Coast druid is the only subclass of any d&d class that has a specific focus on water and what could go wrong if we let him turn into animals? It also has some good circle spells, when he gets to that point. He’d probably have a lot of fun with Mirror Image. There was probably an incident that catalysed his becoming a druid, I'd like to think it's the equivalent of the boat crash just placed on a different point in the timeline. Might get into it at a later date.

Alan is just pure paladin, it's all he's really had time to do with his life so far beyond being a kid and growing up, y'know? I’ll get a little into the subclass here, all of IR’s 3rd level or higher paladins take Oath of Devotion. From the PHB: “These paladins meet the ideal of the knight in shining armor, acting with honor in pursuit of justice and the greater good.” Devotion’s core tenets are honesty, courage, compassion, honor, and duty. Also their Channel Divinity: Sacred Weapon is just really cool. Who doesn’t like glowing stuff, man. Alan's got some more powerful paladin abilities than any of his brothers but probably has the lowest total level regardless. Giving him the Athlete feat, which lets him jump and climb a lot easier, feels appropriate. He snuck a griffon home when it was a baby, and is trying to train it. It's not very well behaved and causes a ruckus when it gets bored but he adores it. One day it’ll make a phenomenal companion. For now, it will continue to attempt to eat his fingers.

Brains is an artificer! Love that class. Artificers, rather than casting spells (though they can do that), make magic items. The artificer class is from Unearthed Arcana and a lot of the mechanics can be hit or miss, it’s been revised many times by lots of different people. But when it comes to the basic idea, it’s the obvious choice for Brains. The less common a magic item, the longer it takes and harder it is to make. The higher level an artificer the more, and more powerful, their creations are. Pretty simple. Also pretty much every version of artificer you come across has some sort of option for a mechanical companion so there’s MAX for you.

Tin-Tin is also an artificer, with a few levels in paladin for good measure. Her time is split between making and repairing gear and going out on missions, and when on call is incredibly useful for lightning fixes and is incredibly creative when it comes to the ways magic items (and nonmagic items) can be used to get out of predicaments. This is the character who constantly has Inspiration. Kayo is an Assassin archetype rogue into paladin. Assassins do… a lot of damage. If you know much about d&d rules (I don’t expect you to), the only thing scarier than a bard, stat wise, is a rogue. +10 to stealth is pretty easy to get by 5th level, combine that with Sneak Attack and Assassinate and you can deal up to 26 damage in one hit with a dagger alone. I said I wouldn’t do any maths but I lied.

Penny doesn’t necessarily have any class levels, though rogue would be appropriate. She falls more under the NPC umbrella, somewhere between Noble and Spy, perhaps? NPCs have a lot less restrictions when it comes to what they can and can’t do laterally, but it’s harder to make them powerful without assigning a class. I also think it’d be really neat to use the fantasy setting to make her nonhuman. High elf would be fitting and cool, but she’d also make a fantastic tiefling. Though, like, call me biased, everyone would make a fantastic tiefling.

I think that’s all I’ve got to say on the matter right now. I have a lot more specific details that I’ll get to eventually but this post is more of a jumping off point listing some options for anyone else who might want to mess around with a d&d AU but doesn’t know where to start. Pick out things you like, ditch things you don’t, add whatever sounds cool, and honestly? Congratulations on getting through this whole thing. This post is kind of in shambles. And thanks! I love taking any excuse to pore over these books.

Shoot me an ask or something if anything’s too incomprehensible or there’s something up with the formatting. Later, skaters.

[weirdochick56]

Past Lives- Dean Winchester AU

Dean Winchester x Photographer!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. Talk of cancer. 

Disclaimers: None.

Word Count: 965 words

***

PROLOGUE-

You take another handful of popcorn into your mouth, munching on them obnoxiously loud. 

Not that it mattered anyway. You were the only one in your ridiculously lavish penthouse. (Trying to convince your fiance to buy a small, modest house like normal people was pointless.)

Except for Partick Swayze’s beautiful ass of course. 

“Dirty Dancing” and a huge bowl of popcorn seemed like the only option you had as far as entertainment went. There was no work to do and no Dave.

You sigh sadly, fiddling with the big diamond ring on your left ring finger. You only wished he was here with you, but some big business trip had required his presence all the way on the other side of the country which wasn’t very ideal considering you were in the middle of wedding preparations. 

You were pissed. Livid, even. He still had to help you pick out the invitation font, color. The venue, church and even better: he still had to meet your parents. Ugh.  

You fisted your hand. It got you all riled up just thinking about it. He ditched you. And of course you understood his multi-million dollar business was important, but so were you. So was the fact that you had accepted to spend your entire life with-

RING. 

RING.

RING.

The loud ringing of your phone snaps you out of your infuriated train of thoughts. You furrow your brow, bewildered. It was late. You look down at your wristwatch for verification. A bright “12:00 am” stared back at you. 

Yeah, late. 

Your clients understood this wasn’t- your frown deepens. ‘”Mom” flashed on the screen, weirding the fuck out of you even more. 

You pause the movie, pressing the green button on your phone. As you raise the device to your ear, you can distinctly hear heavy breathing, only concerning you beyond belief. “Mom?” 

Your mom sniffles on the other line. “Oh Y/n honey! I’m so happy you picked up! I-it’s I...” and then she breaks down, exploding into a frantically sobbing mess. 

You immediately begin to panic. “Mom? Mom. What’s wrong?”

She answers with jumbled, sob-filled words you can barely register. “What?”

She takes a deep breath. Then she somehow manages to choke out a somewhat comprehensible sentence. “It’s your dad Y/n...He-he-” more sobbing, sniffling. 

Your heart rate immediately speeds up. He’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few years ago and this could only mean...oh God please no. Your worst fear- no. But what if he-

“I-is he...mom, is dad-” you can’t bring yourself to say it as tears threaten to push themselves to the surface of your eyes and spill over. 

Your mom seems to understand what you mean. “N-no. Fortunately not, but he’s really sick Y/n. He woke up so suddenly with this sharp horrific pain in his stomach and then he started vomiting.” She sighs tiredly. “We rushed him to the hospital and...I’m scared Y/n. I’m really scared.”

You blink a few times, trying to wrap your head around the situation being told to you and the relief that flooded your body followed by even more concern. It was all so confusing. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you ask quietly, “has it ever been this bad?”

“No. We thought the treatment was working Y/n. This is the first time I’ve seen him in so much pain. You should've seen him, bent over the toilet just,” she pauses and sucks in a sharp breath. “He asked for you.”

“Where is he right now?” 

“They’re keeping him in the ICU, they want to evaluate how far along his cancer is and what should be done next.” She sounds impatient. “Did you hear me? He asked for you.” 

You nod repeatedly but realize that she can’t see you. “I’ll buy the next flight to Darkwell.” That was your immediate answer. There was no doubt in your mind. No what if’s or but’s. Your dad was in trouble and needed you. You weren’t abandoning him. 

Not like you had been the past few years.

She lets out a small noise of approval. “If you could. I wouldn’t want him to leave us without being able to see you first at least.” her voice cracks and you try not to cry.

“Mom, c’mon that’s not going to happen. I’ll pay for another treatment. We’ll have him apply to new technology. I’ve been doing my research and there’s a lot of helpful technology being developed right now for this specific type of cancer.” Your voice drops down a pitch. “We’ll figure something out together.”

She breathes out shakily. “I hope so. I really hope so.”

***

THE NEXT MORNING

The phone rang three more times before it sent you straight to voicemail. Again.

You groan, seriously contemplating the idea of chucking your phone through a huge glass window. Stupid Dave wouldn’t answer your calls. 

You called again and waited for the voicemail. “Hi, this is Dave Larrson and this my personal phone number. If you’re looking to schedule a meeting please call my office.” BEEP. You sigh into the phone. 

“Dave, I had a family emergency to take care of, Dad’s sick. And I’m guessing by the time you get to this message I’m already going to be in Darkwell. Make sure to check in with the wedding planner. I’ve l already sent her an e-mail but-” BEEP. 

You sigh exasperatedly, tucking your phone away into the pocket of your Burberry trench coat. It was fucking chilly out in NYC.

Looking behind you, you quickly scan the space that had been your home for the past three years to make sure all the lights are turned off. Check. You whirl around, tugging on your tiny suitcase and locking the door behind you. 

You exhale heavily. “Here we go.”

***

I’m actually really excited about this!!! IK it seems shitty now, but I promise it’ll get better!!

Y’all know the drill: reply, send asks, tell me if you want to be tagged...I love you guys!!

A special thanks to:

@jessikared97 @sherlockedtash88 and @lilypalmer1987 my sweet forevers!

And @multifandomdisappointment my only Dean Sweetheart

[aki-chan2014]

The happy, sort-of-slice-of-life AU that nobody asked for.

Under the cut in case of inadvertent spoilers (from having some details mirror things that occur in canon). Also, I couldn't find an AU role for all the characters (specifically Hitsuji, Snake, Dragon, Uuma and Usagi so if anyone wants to join me in the fun and suggest how they'd fit in then feel free to lol)

The story here centres around Misaki Yuki, a young woman from a wealthy, well respected family that's been around for generations. Her parents died when she was a baby, and she's been brought up by both her grandparents and a great uncle. As she's the only grand-child, she's basically been given the most ridiculously comprehensive, expensive education (fancy academic private school, all sorts of tutors for activites ranging from combat techniques to flower arranging) and also indulged ridiculously-she literally wants for nothing. But the upbringing is a good one, and she is happy/loved/popular, and she grows up into a likeable person with a strong moral compass. Though it shocks her guardians when she initially announces she's going into peace activism, and in truth they'd hoped that as the heir she'd take on some of their military enterprises, they figure that being who she is that the path she's chosen is the right one for her, and so they have no qualms with it. She spends a lot of time both on the front lines and behind the scenes in her job as a peace activist, and progresses up ranks quite quickly, and becomes fairly well known. And though many dislike her for halting wars, even more hail her as a hero.

One thing she didn't entirely expect was that she'd encounter Toshiko Ino very often in her work. Sure, the Ino family was a lot like hers, a long standing one with military connections, but even so. Misaki's never got along with Toshiko, being some years younger than her, but was childhood friends with the younger Ino sister, Kiyoko, who died in high school. Toshiko, for her part, finds Misaki meddlesome and annoying, but apart from snide comments, she's never done too much to her because of their families' connection. And now they see each other more often as adults, they both try to stay as far away from each other as possible. For the most part, it works.

Misaki does meet all sorts of interesting personalities in the course of her work, and none more interesting than Eiji Kashii and Kanae Aira. Eiji is a legend in the military, often known as the 'Genius' or the 'Natural Born Killer'. Someone like that, Misaki expected to be ruthless and the type to take pleasure in killing. The person she encountered was wise, careful and had a good sense of what was right and wrong, even if in some senses his definition of those things differed to hers. She ended up having an interesting debate with him the first time they meet, and though she doesn't manage to change his stance on warfare by the time they part, a mutual business-like interest has been established between them, and every so often when he has some downtime and is in the country, he breaks his reclusive streak to have dinner with Misaki in a fancy restaurant. They talk all sorts of matters, though nothing personal at all, so Misaki never learns what, exactly, Kanae is to Eiji. Someone important for sure-he seems to care for her and she seems to be his other exception to his reclusive streak, but beyond that, nothing. Kanae herself, the few times Misaki meets her, doesn't offer anything though her alcohol-soaked mind makes her more talkative and uninhibited. All Misaki knows of her is that she is a fighter who took up alcohol to stop her from being haunted by the horrors of the battlefield, and she hasn't been able to change Kanae's mind, either. Still, though they are not friends or anything like that, Misaki does look forward to these very sporadic dinners.

Back home, life is mostly ordinary. She meets her boyfriend (since he doesn't have a name in canon, let's just call him Rin) in fairly ordinary circumstances (while shopping for baking supplies), and they hit it off fairly quickly, though since they're both careful and sensible they wait until they've been together a year before moving in together into a very nice apartment with a great view. Though well off himself, Rin, a computer programmer,  is decidedly more ordinary/ has had a more mundane life than Misaki has, and so he has a little trouble adjusting to being a part of Misaki's colourful life. He also struggles with the image so many people have of her being a hero, though he admires what she does and doesn't try to stop her (even if he constantly worries). Rin does manage to reconcile his understanding of her with all this though, and really becomes her rock when she comes home after a failure ((He even meets Eiji one time though honestly the guy gave him nightmares for a week straight)). Basically, Rin and Misaki are perfect for each other.

In all truth and honesty though, the really weird part of their life together is decidedly a part of the more domestic side. Specifically, the two teens that the two of them somehow end up taking in: -The first is Tsugiyoshi Sumino, who is fifteen at the time. Misaki finds him asleep in the entranceway to the building her apartment is part of one morning in the summer holidays. She wakes him gently, and thinking that he's homeless or something, invites him up to feed him breakfast. Rin is surprised to see an unexpected guest and is a bit sceptical as to why an otherwise healthy, clean looking teen would fall asleep there like that, but Misaki overrides his concerns and makes breakfast for Tsugiyoshi, and proceeds to question him until she finds out his name and his circumstances. It turns out he has a home, but he's alone there, and always has been. He falls asleep a lot because he has a sleeping disorder of some sort (he doesn't explain it very well), and essentially has nobody in his life. And upon hearing that, Misaki decides to change that. Rin draws the line at Tsugiyoshi living with them and Misaki agrees, given he does have a home he seems happy with, but in every other way she tries to be the adult guidance that Tsugiyoshi has never had. And, sleepy, slightly apathetic, introverted teen he is, he pretends to resist but secretly likes it, and he blossoms visibly under the attention. He's a regular fixture in the apartment-other visitors will often be greeted with the sight of Tsugiyoshi sleeping on the sofa, eating cheese while playing smartphone games, attempting homework at the kitchen table or helping Rin or Misaki with chores.

-It is Tsugiyoshi who brings in Ryoka Niwa, a severely abused street girl who seems a few years older than him, though her exact age is never made clear. He finds her foraging in bins around the corner from the supermarket one evening as he picks up things Rin asked him to buy on his way to them. For reasons known only to him, he brings her to them with little explanation, whereupon he decides to flop on the sofa and sleep, leaving them in an awkward situation. Misaki is the first to recover, apologising on Tsugiyoshi's behalf, and trying to get a sense of who Ryoka is and where she came from. The girl reveals her name, but is too skittish and afraid to reveal more, and eventually Misaki just cleans her up and patches up her injuries, and they give her a meal. Ryoka seems to relax a little, but the moment Rin and Misaki's backs are turned she bolts out of there. But, the next evening, she comes back, and next evening, and the one after that, always bolting after a while and occasionally lashing out, apparently overwhelmed by the kindness. But each time she comes, she stays a little longer, and each time, she seems a little more relaxed. Eventually, she reveals snippets of her frankly horrific background, and eventually, Rin and Misaki end up having a talk and deciding that she has to live with them. So, she does. Given she's not used to a normal family life, there are a lot of problems at first, but she settles in eventually and just as Tsugiyoshi blossomed under Misaki and Rin's guidance, so does she, though in her case it's more like they redo her childhood with her for her so she learns to be a part of the world again. She befriends Tsugiyoshi too, forming a particular attachment to him because of how he found her.

But anyway, time goes by. Tsugiyoshi graduates from high school and drifts from job to job before finding what is apparently his dream job at a cheesemakers' while Ryoka, attending adult learning classes in lieu of school, eventually goes onto university and pursues a high-flying business career, and in the process discovers a love of hot springs and makes it her life's goal to visit every single one in Japan before she dies.  She pursues lot of problematic romances before eventually settling down, while Tsugiyoshi doesn't even seem to care about that kind of thing, and both are aware of Misaki's low-key hope they get together but cheerily ignore it. As for Misaki and Rin (very proud of their two little ducklings, as they often think of them as), they do eventually get married, and have a few kids of their own (two daughters, Kiyoko and Asami and a son, Ryuu-Asami is the youngest, Kiyoko the eldest, named for the childhood friend). Naturally, those kids are very much loved, with great grandparents and a great-great uncle as well as all Rin's extended family to spoil them, not to mention Tsugiyoshi and Ryoka (plus her SO) who become something of a cross between a much older sibling and an uncle/aunt to the kids. It helps considering that Misaki never does slow down her peace activism career, meaning she's away from home a lot. The kids all go to Michio Tsukui's daycare when they're little and love it a lot. Kiyoko is a similar age to Michio's adopted daughter and they also become friends, so Michio ends up a permanent part of Misaki's life as well. Kiyoko, Ryuu and Asami go through their schooling, pursue their paths, enter relationships and marry and have their own children and all that too. Misaki and Rin are incredibly proud of them too.

And when Misaki eventually dies peacefully after a long illness when she is very, very old, she is surrounded by all her family, both blood and chosen, and many friends too, secure in the knowledge that she lived the best life that she could.

[haberdashing]

Since some of you expressed interest in hearing about my OCs, here is the promised rambling about them!

Note: I’m leaving out ones that I’ve already published fic for, and there are probably (definitely) more that I can’t remember off the top of my head.

Putting this under a readmore since it's rather long.

First, the fandom OCs that I haven’t written fic for yet:

I’ve made a few posts referencing Ophelia Jane Smith, but I haven’t given any general description of her, so here goes.

She’s my character in a Pokemon RPG campaign, with @lordlyhour as a fellow player and @verldra as the DM. (If you’re intrigued by the idea of a Pokemon RPG, I can throw a copy of the rulebook and associated info your way, just say the word!)

She’s a twin- or was, anyway, the tense changes depending on who you ask. (Her name wasn’t actually chosen for the Shakespeare reference, but because I was poking around on baby name sites looking for twin names, and found the suggestion of Ophelia and Ezra, which both mean “help” but from different languages of origin.) See, when she was... seven or eight or so (haven’t quite pinned down the timing), she went for a walk in the woods and lost track of her brother. And nobody ever saw him again... at least, not in human form. But while searching, Ophelia did find a Phantump that felt strangely familiar, and- knowing, perhaps, about the lore that Phantumps are the ghosts of children lost in the woods- she decided that the Phantump was her brother transformed, and brought him home and treated him as such from then on.

(...this backstory was approved specifically with the caveat that the Phantump in question is NOT actually her brother. Sorry, Ophelia, everything you think you know is a lie. Whoops.)

Also, like most Pokemon protagonists, by the time she heads off on her journey she has a mother but no father in the picture. In Ophelia’s case, a few months after... whatever happened to Ezra, her father left for what she had assumed was a business trip (her father is/was a freelance occult specialist, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to leave abruptly to go on a trip to where his expertise was needed), but he never came back. Ophelia’s mother knows more about what happened to him than Ophelia does, but she gets upset whenever the topic is broached, so Ophelia still doesn’t know what exactly became of him.

On the topic of her parents: Ophelia’s mom is the town medic for the little town in Orre where she resides, and as mentioned above, her father was an occult specialist; Ophelia’s inherited some of the personality of them both. Like her father, she loves to learn new things, even if the knowledge isn’t something terribly practical, and is fascinated with the occult (much to her mother’s chagrin); like her mother, she cares deeply about helping people and Pokemon and wants to make the world a better place, at least in some small way.

The campaign’s still in its early days, but right now her team consists of “Ezra” the Phantump and a Houndour from the woods near her hometown that willingly joined her team and was given the nickname Queen.

(I’d promise that these aren’t all going to be this long, but... well...)

The other fandom OC I haven’t touched via fic yet is Franklin Clark, who’s from the world of the Avarice AU. He’s Ford’s first reincarnation, and is as much of a nerd as you would imagine based on that information. He’s also black, has a very noticeable case of vitiligo (mostly on his face and neck, with some spots on his chest and upper arm as well), has a single mother (his dad died shortly after he was born) who struggles to keep their family in the lower-middle-class range rather than plunging into poverty... And he lives in the small town of Mud Bluffs, Arkansas.

...yeah, his school years would be tough enough even without getting into the whole “friends with a demon” thing. As it is, well... at least he gets good grades?

He’s an only child, but is somewhat close with his relative Ellie, who is technically his niece even though she was born a couple months before him. (Weird family trees are weird.) As time goes by, he eventually gets to know the Pines family as well, and learns more about who exactly this “Ford” person was and why it’s such a big deal to Stan/Mercuriat that they have the same soul.

As an aside, his name is Franklin. If you call him Frank, he’ll ignore you, or at least try to do so. And the only two people who get to call him Frankie are his mom and Stan, and even then he rolls his eyes and plays annoyed half the time.

On to the original OCs! Otherwise known as characters in search of a story... or, really, characters for whom I have a small snippet of story in mind but have no idea how to turn that into a whole Thing.

I’ll start this section with Scott Carlin, who I came up with way back in high school and hadn’t touched for some time before I started thinking about him again for some reason a couple weeks ago.

I can’t decide whether I’m going to use real place names and such in the story I have in mind or fictionalize them all, but for the sake of comprehension I’ll use the real names in this description.

Scott Carlin’s a teenage genius with particular aptitude for math and science who skipped a grade or two to get into college. He really wanted to get into a top-tier school- Caltech, MIT, Harvard- but all of those schools didn’t accept him, so he ends up going to NYU, or a school like it- not a BAD school per se, but not what he was really hoping for. It doesn’t help that it’s annoyingly close to his home in NYC when all he wants to do is revel in being away from his less-than-supportive father and their small, cramped apartment.

Another thing that annoys Scott is that of all the roommates he could’ve been placed with, he got stuck with Ryan (last name tbd because the one my high school self picked is super unsubtle). Ryan seems in many ways to be the opposite of Scott- he’s super-wealthy, takes luxuries for granted, and spends more time partying than studying. What Scott doesn’t quite realize until some ways into the story is that there’s more to Ryan than meets the eye- yes, he’s a rich kid, but he’s also something of a genius himself. (I imagine Ryan as being a bit like a young Tony Stark- yes, he’s brilliant, but he hides that part of himself often, being content to be seen as a rich playboy alone.)

If I stick with the story idea I came up with in high school, the plot starts with Scott, who’s bored with his classes and needs to occupy himself with some project or another, cobbles together a machine that theoretically could act as a time machine. He turns it on, not really expecting it to work... but it does.

...It also explodes in the process, stranding him several decades into the future.

Scott struggles to find a way to get back to his own time while learning what he can from the future, including the surprising (or at least, surprising to Scott) news that his old roommate Ryan turned out to be quite the successful entrepreneur.

All I’ve decided thus far while thinking about this story lately is that Scott’s trans and mixed-race, and that the love interest I had initially thrown into the narrative is entirely unnecessary.

Next up is Niklass (last name tbd, though it’s possible that he doesn’t go by a traditional last name, or any at all), who I first came up with in high school as well.

Niklass can’t lie. Or, more specifically, he cannot say something that he knows or believes to be untrue.

If you were to ask Niklass about this, he’d tell you that he was something of a spoiled brat as a kid, causing all sorts of problems at school and then lying when asked by his father what he had done, leaving his father more disenchanted with the school than with his son. Eventually, one of his teachers- the one who specialized in the study of magic- got sick of having to put up with Niklass’ chronic lying and cast a spell on him; Niklass woke up one day and found that when he tried to tell a lie, the words just wouldn’t come out. His father was (understandably) not happy about this, and tried to get the teacher to reverse the spell, but to no avail.

All of this is, of course, true.

But what he leaves out is that his father wasn’t just some random guy who spoiled his kid- he was an evil dictator that controlled the region. And the teacher who put the spell on Niklass didn’t just get a stern talking-to, but was tortured for days, maybe weeks, in the hopes of getting him to reverse the spell and finally was killed once it became clear that the teacher wasn’t going to give in.

Niklass got into the study of magic himself, initially with the hopes of reversing the spell himself, but later on he learned to admire magic on its own merits. He never did find a way of reversing the spell, but he’s made his peace with it. What he hasn’t made peace with is his father; Niklass has spent years running as far as he can from his father, even possibly into other dimensions (that was the original story line I had in mind for him, but now I’m not so sure).

Also, if you’ve noticed some loopholes in the “cannot say what he knows/believes to be untrue” phrasing of the spell... well... let’s just say Niklass has noticed them, too. Just because he’s stopped trying to get out of the spell entirely doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to test the boundaries and use what loopholes he can find to his advantage.

Last but not least, a relatively new one among the original OCs (from college or shortly afterwards, I forget exactly), Isaac Kaufman.

Isaac was raised in a Conservative Jewish family. He’s trans, and when he came out to his family in his teenage years, they continued to misgender/deadname him repeatedly and also made it crystal-clear that once he turned 18, he was on his own, and they weren’t going to give him a cent for college.

Between student loans, scholarships, and work, Isaac was able to scrounge together enough money to go to college on his own. While there, he got involved in the party scene, using his newfound freedom to indulge in some things that his parents definitely wouldn’t have approved on.

While walking to a nearby bar to join some friends in festivities there, a mugger pulled Isaac into an alley, got out a gun, and said to give him everything he had or else he’d shoot.

Isaac had gone through some rough times before, but this was the first time that he’d really feared for his life in an immediate sense. His brain went into fight-or-flight mode, and he chose flight.

Adrenaline rushing, Isaac sprinted away from the alley, not really concerned with where he was going so long as it was away from the mugger...

...and got run over by a car.

...several blocks away from the scene of the mugging.

While in the hospital, Isaac noticed that it felt like the rest of the world was slowed down, like people were drawing out every syllable they spoke. At first he wasn’t sure what to make of it- was it a side effect of some medication they’d put him on, or his brain not quite working right because of the accident? But after a while, Isaac figured out what was really going on.

It wasn’t that the rest of the world had gotten slow; instead, he was the one who had gotten fast. Super-speed fast.

For a bit, after getting out of the hospital and struggling to coordinate his return to school, Isaac didn’t really do much with his powers, save for things like snatching an expensive bottle of wine from a store too fast for anyone to spot him. But that all changed when he happened upon an old lady who was getting held up at gunpoint by a mugger; Isaac remembered when he had been in the same situation and decided to intervene.

The old lady’s improbable escape from the mugging made local news, and one clip in particular went viral- the old lady’s statement that she couldn’t see her savior’s face or make out anything about them save for “a black blur” (he happened to be wearing black clothes that day). Isaac weighs his options and decides to embrace the name Black Blur and become the superhero that some of the media had already proclaimed him to be, fighting crime in the city whenever he can.

He also ends up becoming a philosophy professor, one who deals specifically with the subject of superheroes and others who act to carry out vigilante justice- and his view of the subject as published in papers isn’t all positive. (It’s not that he’s faking the perspective, either- Isaac does grapple with the morality of his own actions on a regular basis.) He also has a loving wife and, eventually, a daughter, and he cares for them both very, very deeply.

Balancing work, family, and superheroics might be hard for some people... but hey, Isaac’s got the time for it.

Also, word to the wise: don’t mess with his family. Just don’t. He’s got literally hundreds of plans drawn up for various things that could go wrong re: his superhero identity interfering with his personal life, and none of them end well for the one who forces his hand.

(I do actually have a few half-formed ideas for other superheroes in Isaac’s world- a college student who doesn’t realize for a while that he’s turned invisible to others’ eyes, a mother-and-daughter pair who both don’t realize that the other is also a superhero- and I’ve considered combining them all into some sort of superhero autobiography anthology, but if that ever happens, it won’t be any time soon.)

[nighttimefjaeril]

As promised, here’s more info on the middle-schooler quartet of my Ibun “Kids investigating mysteries with shady uncle Jikaku” AU :’3

Houmei is 12-year old going on 13 (his birthday will happen during the vacation). He lives in Yokohama and is sent to visit his Great Uncle Jikaku for the summer, who used to live and work in Tokyo but has retired in a rural village in the Tohoku region, where he hails from.

Given we literally don’t know anything about Houmei’s backround, I’m having a hard time coming up with anything too specific linked to his family life; as a general rule, I’d say his family situation isn’t the easiest. He lives with a caretaker, and Jikaku is related to them. The two are completely estranged, and the reason he was sent to him was because of issues between him and his caretaker; as he’d become increasingly rebellious and problematic growing up, hoping that Jikaku would straighten him : D But caretaker definitely has issues with their life as well. Overall, things at home aren’t the best and Houmei isn’t all too unhappy to live at his uncle’s for a couple of months, despite having troubles adapting to such a different lifestyle at first : D He’s an extremely intelligent and curious kid, a day-dreamer, and an avid reader of mystery and fantasy novels. He comes off as extremely well-mannered at first, which surprises Jikaku given the situation he was told, but he soon learns that it’s all an act of course : D He knows how to hold a façade in order to get away with things, and is extremely manipulative towards adults and kids his age alike. At first the other boys find him odd as he talks of weird stuff and acts ditzy at times, but as they’re all misfits they end up taking the outsider in pretty much right away. He’s the type to hide his problems , real feelings and thoughts behind a dorky smile. He doesn’t have much interest in leadership, but thanks to his natural charisma and adventurous spirit he ends up being the driving force of the group by default. On the other hand, he can be a bit of a slob at times and gives into laziness easily. Much like Sho'un, he has a problem with authority, but unlike him he’s able to find sneaky ways to break the rules. As for now he has no definite life plans nor dreams; he knows that if he’d work hard enough he could easily enter any college and take on any career, but he also very little interest in formal studies and he’s the type who prefers researching stuff on his own (he has a very broad knowledge for a kid his age, but he’s not driven enough in his studies for his level of intelligence and pretty listless). His favorite subject is literature, but he wouldn’t have troubles with anything if only he applied himself. His hobbies include reading and writing, skateboards, videogames and daydreaming. He’s learning to play guitar but he’s too lazy to practice often (he also has a pretty good voice).

Jyoan is a 13-year old going on 14 (his birthday is in late September). He lives with his mother and two sisters (one older and one younger) and his younger sister’s father. His biological dad is not in the picture. He doesn’t have a good relantionship with his step dad and his family situation also isn’t ideal, and for that reason he tries to stay away from his house as much as possible (he usually stays at Ganpuku’s house most days of the week). His family was also struggling with money a lot in the past, even though nowadays they’re doing better economically after his mother got married again, he’s still known as the “poor kid” at school, and he was being made fun a lot for being… extremely feminine (no day has gone by without him being called a fag by classmates or his step dad). He used to be bullied a lot more in the past, until he started to clam back (also his friendship with dangerous kid Sho'un made the transition easier :D He’s considered a bit of a punk himself by his peers). Of all his friends, he’s the one who hates living in the village the most and dreams of moving in the city as soon as possible. He’s an extremely ambitious and driven kid, and puts his status above all; he lives for receiving praise and attention by others and puts a lot of efforts in everything he does for that; he has good grades but he’s the type to truly shine only in what he likes (he excels in arts). He’s a sensitive boy, pretty mature and deep for his age (or so he thinks lol), but at the same time can act pretty bratty and and has a really bad temper; the more he’s obedient with teachers and authorative figures the worse his attitude towards with his friends and siblings. He’s also extremely foul-mouthed and gets reprimended for it a lot by adults. He may or may not have a one-sided rivalry with Houmei, as he basically represents everything he wishes to be… or so he thinks (not that he would dare to admit that of course). His hobbies include fashion, drawing, pretentious movies and books that are way beyond his comprehension level for his age (but he still watches/reads them anyways ‘cause that’s what cool kids do right?) and singing.

Malcolm (aka Ganpuku) is 13 (he was born the same year as Houmei but has had his birthday already). Being born in May he started school one year earlier and so he’s in the same grade as Jyoan and Sho'un (they’re all classmates as there is only one class per grade in the local middle school, too). He lives with his parents and one older sister, and his family owns the local convenience store. Ever since he was a child he has been helping his parents carrying it voluntarily as he really likes working there, so he spends a lot of time inside the shop. He has quite the business acumen and loves money and hopes to be able to better his family’s average income someday with a business-oriented job. He has a very good relantionship with his parents, especially his mother. His family hails from the US, but he and his sister were born in Japan. Because of their western appearance and names, they have been both seen as outsiders in the village small community and could never really fit in, if not with the other misfits. For that reason he hates using his real name and goes under “Maru” instead, as it’s close to the japanese pronunciation of “Mal”. He and Jyoan have been best friends since kindergarden, and he gets along with his sister a lot too. He’s a very bright, loud and cheerful kid, he’s the friendlist of the trio and he’s the one who accepts Houmei into their group right away. His hobbies include eating and cooking, as well as manga and videogames: one could say he’s a bit more childish than the others, but he’s often more insightful and smarter than people give him credit for. He’s also extremely affectionate and protective of his friends and family. His grade are pretty good, and he’s basically excels in everything his deskmate Jyoan doesn’t and viceversa :D He’s good with maths, science and economics (and English ofc as it’s the language spoken home), while Jyoan is better at humanities and art. He has pretty clear plans for the future and he definitely wants to go to college and land a high-paying job in the economics field, to grant his family and himself financial stability. Much like Houmei, he also falls victim to laziness pretty often, which may be a hindrance to his dreams of success :D (I’ve talked about his hobbies before, I would include that he’s learning to play the piano but wishes to switch to something more “fun”, like drums; he’s also into soccer and baseball and fantasy books/videogames)

Sho'un is 13 going on 14 (his birthday is in December). He’s an only child and his father is a monk and owner of the local temple (in Japan monks can marry and have children). As you can imagine from his appearance and rebellious attitude, he isn’t exactly the dream heir his father wishes, and for that reason his relantionship with his parents are extremely tense. He also tries to avoid being at home as much as possible and sleeps over at either Ganpuku’s or at his cousin Ryuzen’s student apartment in the city(he doesn’t really get along with him all that much, but he likes his cooler roomates better lmao). From a very early age he was considered a “difficult kid” for a his rebellious strike and attraction to… darker things (he’s the type who idolizes yakuza, smokes in the school bathroom and steals shit as a test of courage). For his reason he has a pretty bad reputation in town and peers and thier parents are pretty scared of him. That, coupled with the failed expectations of his parents, just reinforced his bad attitude and made things worse. He used to be pretty lonesome until he became friends with Jyoan and Ganpuku when they started middle school, thanks to their involvement with the music club. In fact music is his biggest passion, he plays bass and guitar and wishes to start a band someday (school band secondary plot? Probably lol). Music and art are the only subjects that interest him, as for the rest he’s a pretty much a slacker who doesn’t put effort in his studies and has terrible grades. He often says that if he can’t make as a musician, he would open a tattoo and piercing studio. Despite his “tough” exterior, he’s actually a pretty laid-back and reserved kid, not very talkative but mindful, and once you get to know him he’s actually very caring and approachable. He’s the type to defend his friends no matter what, and follows his own moral code that doesn’t accept dishonesty nor ambiguity. He has a somewhat melancholic and pessimistic streak that he tries to conceal with his insolence; of all the four he’s the one who has more… grown-up interests (meaning he’s the only one who’s very much into girls, the others are a bit of late-bloomers in comparison^^’); he’s also the one who tries to bond with the older guys via his cousin, and he tries to emulate them. His hobbies include gravure magazines gangster movies, rock and punk music, playing instruments and sketching out tattoo design.