#I love my crossovers a little too much

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Afterlife

The steaming mug of coffee sits untouched on the table in front of Nico.

It’s not what his body wants.

Not anymore.

The waitress who set it down had a defined blue vein snaking across her jawline.

He wraps his hands around the mug and swallows a scalding gulp.

Rain ticks on the windows, each drop that slides down reflecting the pink and yellow neon of the sign that proclaims the establishment is open twenty-four hours a day. 

Grease hisses in a fryer in the kitchen. Dishes clatter and people chatter in a mixture of languages and a radio plays a scratchy, fading in and out pop song about a cheating lover. Cars outside splash by through the puddles, water trickles down the storm drains with strangely metallic, echoing plops, horns blare and sirens scream. 

The sounds are the worst.

He can sort of block out the smells. Apparently, having had your nose busted a decade ago on a hunt does in fact make a dent in even vamp super-senses. He can pick out the bacon grease and the yellow peppers and olives and sweat and perfume, but it’s almost a manageable level.

Sight isn’t really a problem. He’s been highly attuned to small movements for all of his adult life. It’s like being twenty again, able to catch a rat’s tail whipping around a corner.

But the sounds. 

The sounds are overwhelming.

He shouldn’t have come here.

It’s too soon. He’s not ready.

He shoves a few bills under the barely-touched coffee mug and bolts out the door, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt as a protection against the driving rain, and against whoever might recognize him as the man who used to be a teammate.

He has to get this under control. 

This isn’t what he wanted.

But it wasn’t his choice.

His family was so desperate to have a little more time with him that they let him turn. 

And then he almost killed them.

Memories of his hands around Vanessa’s throat, Ricky screaming at him and trying futilely to pull him away, the hot, salty, iron-tangy blood gushing from his son’s arm when he caught it in his teeth pour down on him, colder and more brutal than the rain.

He’s not sure either of them want to see him again.

He’s not sure trying to get himself clean and get the hunger under control is worth it. They wanted him back in their lives then, but they might never again. Not after seeing what the monster he returned as is capable of. They have every right to bar him from their door forever. To cut him out of their lives like a cancer that would eventually destroy them. 

Maybe he should just stop running and hiding from the Sunrisers. Let one of his old friends stake him through the heart and end this.

But something in him wants to survive. Desperately, like a feral animal caught in a trap.

He’s not sure he should listen to it. Vampires who give in to their urges are the most dangerous predators in the world. He’s staked dozens of them. Captured countless more. 

And now, he is one.

A disaster waiting to happen.

A massacre with a ticking timer on it.

A bloodthirsty creature that can hurt even the people that meant the most to the dead man whose face he’s wearing. 

He can hear the heartbeats of every person who brushes past him.

He can smell the blood on the chin of the man who must have cut himself shaving, under the Avengers bandaid on the finger of a kid with a blue rain slicker. 

He turns aside into an alley, crouches behind a dumpster, and pulls his last packet of synth-blood from his pocket.

Four hours.

He made it four hours between feedings this time.

It’s not good enough.

He swallows down the cool, slightly bitter saltiness and squeezes every drop he can from the plastic before tossing it into the trash. 

He lowers his head into his hands, shoulders shaking, tears burning his eyes. This is what he’s become. This is all he has to look forward to. 

The scent of something earthy and not quite canine enough to be right drags him back to the present. His head snaps up, eyes scanning the alleyway.

There’s a man there who wasn’t a second ago. Not particularly tall, wearing a long coat and a flat wool cap that’s spilling rain down over slightly sharp-tipped ears.

Fae. A shifter. The closest thing to a real werewolf that really exists.

Nico snarls.

He may want to die, right here, right now, but the thing inside him will be damned if it goes down without a fight.

Truth be told, it’s damned already.

“Not sure who you are, but seems like you could use a little help,” the shifter says, his voice carrying the distinct sound of Bay Ridge born and raised, but a life spent in various slices of the city’s underbelly. Probably one of the unregistered fae making a living doing private detective work for cash.

“Why don’t you scram and leave me be.”

“Not really my thing.” 

Actually, he thinks he knows who this might be. At least as far as family affiliations. One of the Phelan pack. His Sunriser team crossed paths with them a few times. Sometimes, they had the same objectives. Sometimes, at odds. 

He’s not sure which this is going to turn out to be.

“Fae and vampires don’t mix.”

“You saved my dad’s life once on a hunt. The pack owes ya.” The wolf crouches on his heels in the alley, coming down to Nico’s level, clearly none too worried about being outmatched in a fight. “Word of advice. Get outta this borough, sooner rather than later. Sunrisers are plannin’ a huge dragnet operation. Too many people complainin’ about vamp activity.”

“Thanks.” 

The wolf turns away, disappearing into the wind-whipped rain.

Where he was standing, there’s a chipped slice of shale stone with a few numbers and letters scratched on its surface.

The calling card of an earth-fae.

An address.

Nico almost tosses it down the closest storm drain.

He tucks it into his pocket instead.

He can’t be sure these fae would actually trust a vampire. They’ve warned him he’s in danger. To them, that might mean their life-debt is cleared up, and that he has no favors left to cash in with them.

But if he gets desperate enough, maybe at least they’d kill him quickly.

He can’t say the same for the Sunrisers.

(You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @whump-place @the-lovely-wren

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[elitadream]

Mario kept reminding me of someone and I couldn’t figure out who until it suddenly hit me.

I can’t believe I’ve been both a fan of Mario and Asterix for years and had never noticed the similarities before. Shame on me. xD

[lovelesslittleloser]

I had a realization that everyone else has probably already had but I need to say it

Robin = Danny

Raven = Sam

Cyborg = Tucker

Starfire = Valerie, maybe??

Beast Boy = Cujo?????

[crismakesstuff]

cleaned up this old doodle so I can officially hop on the mlp invincible au

alicorn nolan and earth pony debbie are very special to me

[kiruamon]

Minish AU - Sketch dump 3

More Minish AU sketches, side notes and a bit rambling about a few things I thought about.

Also imagine having like a life-sized plush of Moon and Sun to cuddle with:

Y/N: "Sun! Look! I found you and Moon, but tiny! Now you can give me all the hugs you want! See?"

_

While Sun and Moon might not be able to really hug you, that doesn't mean you can't give them a hug instead.

_

It definitly has it perks to be so small. You can easily ride along on Moon's nightcap while you sit safely in it's brim and enjoying the view. It's also so much faster as to scurrying around on your own tiny legs.

-

Moon: "Enjoying yourself, Little Thief?" Y/N: *continues shaking the bell* Y/N: "Very much! It's such a pretty sound. And... " Moon: "And?" Y/N: "It also tells me when a friend is close by. So I really like it." Moon: *mumbling to himself* "Heh. So that's what you see in us...."

_

Aaaand more arts and craft with Sun!

Sun: *pulls the paper slowly apart* Sun: "Aaaand who might that be?" Y/N: "That's me! Sunny! You made me! How cute! I love them!"

_

Before your discovery by Moon, you followed the classic Minish rules. Which meant not showing yourself in front of other beings, but also giving something back for the things you took. This included patching up damaged stuffed animals and small things like that.

Sun and Moon always wondered over the fact who had repaired the toys when neither of them recalled any of the staff members taking care of such things.

_

And for the finish a little sketch of the place that you made your home. It's hidden in a neat little crack inside one of the walls inside the Daycare area near to where the shop is:

You used a bottle cap from a Fizzy-Faz as a table and with some adjustments two buttons could be used as new stools. A glowy mushroom spends you some light as well as the glow stars that Sun and Moon gifted you and are sticking now on the wall close to your bed. It's too bad you can't invite the two inside. (I used a few ingame pictures in order to draw this one and added a few extra things to it.)

[nostalgia-tblr]

having a vague "why am i writing this horrible story?" crisis about the anglo-saxon au fic that has taken over my mind since *checks* about two days ago. i have approx 2000 words of it written so it is going fairly well in that sense but i have gone a bit niche with my fics recently and am starting to think "nobody wants to read this, people will be annoyed at you if you post this" a bit more often, even though they probably won't because it's a free cake and it's rude to complain about free cake.

[enquire]

Legacy and Tragedy (background story 1?)

I think it's time to talk about what the deal is with Saber and his dad.

This little backstory is going to be a smidge more dark for the my little horse show alright.

It's fineee, ok, ponies die in MLP.

To be honest it's not that bad. I mean it could be worse like uh... certain things that happen in the original dra canon.. ehem anyway this may be a little out of left field but bear with me here. I felt Saber needed a backstory of somewhat equal weight for it to still feel like it's him, and fit in the way I want it to...

ANYWAY I am rambling about my dra pony au again so buckle in.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Ever since he could remember, Saber Frost knew who he was supposed to be. Being raised by his father Cold Steel, his life was surrounded by the Equestrian Guard since he was just a foal. He watched his father rise through the ranks, until he held the title of Captain of the Equestrian Guard.

They were different from Day and Night Guard; ever servants of the royal family. Instead of performing meaningless ceremonial duties, and being easily swept aside by almost any threat, the Equestrian Guard actually protect and serve everypony.

That's what Saber had always been told, and believed. He strove to follow in his father's hoofsteps and become the kind of pony who saved lives, and kept everyone safe. The kind of pony who ensured justice was done.

Cold Steel taught him everything he knew. How to defend himself. How to track down missing ponies. The proper way to care for your gear, and the best methods of investigating crime scenes. How to subdue criminals. How to prioritize during an emergency. How to make necessary sacrifices.

Everything Saber understood about the world, he saw through the same lens. And so, he, and his best friend, a unicorn named Keen Blaze, vowed to become heroes together.

Saber and Keen rose quickly through the ranks. Though Keen was always a few steps ahead, Saber was proud of his accomplishments. Even if his father was disappointed when Keen gained the rank of Lieutenant instead, Saber wasn't competitive. Maybe, part of him preferred to stay in Keen's shadow, where the pressure was less. Supporting his friend, and protecting each other.

But safety never truly lasts. This is a lesson Saber thought he had already learned. It had been drilled into him ever since he was a foal. The reality was, he had never truly known it. Until the day changelings descended down upon Canterlot, taking the castle and incapacitating the Royal Guard.

Spies had already infiltrated the Equestrian Guard, claiming their headquarters and taking several of their own as captives, including Keen Blaze. When the Captain of the Equestrian Guard realized what had happened, it was far too late to recover lost ground.

Changelings swarmed the city, attacking civilian and soldier alike. The princesses were nowhere to be seen. It seemed as though the few brigades of the Equestrian Guard still standing were the only thing left between Canterlot and annihilation. And if Canterlot fell, the rest of Equestria could, too.

So, he came up with a plan to destroy their own headquarters. Doing so would take out the great number of changelings using it as a base of operations and remove access to the catacombs below, stopping the invading army from escaping underground.

Two birds, one stone.

But when he gave the order, Captain Steel was met with resistance for perhaps the first time. Many of the ponies under his leadership had qualms about the hostages still trapped inside, most of whom were sworn members of the Guard, just like them. Companions, and friends.

Cold Steel pointed out that they could very well be changelings, disguised in order to prevent retaliation. And that if not, their comrades' sacrifice would protect the safety of Canterlot and ensure the changeling menace was driven back before the worst came to pass.

But hesitation was natural, wasn't it? Nopony spoke. Until Saber, seeing his father without support, came forward and stood by his words.

After that, more ponies fell in beside him. A tide shifting in favor of the Captain and his plan.

Saber was among the unicorns whose magic took the building down. When it was done, at first, the guard was triumphant. Black, broken carapaces and shattered bug wings signaled their success. The bugs still left alive fled to the other side of the city, leaving the district quiet at last.

But not al the bodies left in the rubble belonged to changelings. The captured ponies had not been fake. Saber was the first to spot burned, brown fur. He forced the wreckage aside, but it was too late. Keen was already dead.

The cheers faded as more and more comrades were found broken and lifeless in the remains. And before the guard could recover enough to take back the rest of Canterlot, a wave of magic exploded from the palace, expelling the invading changelings and rendering the sacrifices made completely, utterly, pointless.

Saber kept staring, half expecting the body of his friend to be wreathed in green flame. For the corpse of a changeling to be revealed instead. But when the bugs were purged from Canterlot, Keen's body remained there, untouched.

Even as several years passed, part of Saber was left behind in that moment. Nightmares and shadows, ever present, almost cemented in his mind by the familiar parapets and streets of Canterlot. And echoing in his father's cold voice and stony expression.

Perhaps that is why Saber chose to leave Canterlot, going over his father's head by giving in to his friends' advice to request reassignment. To a small town Thrift, and two friends he had yet to meet, called home.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

here's an alternate untinted version for color reasons

It was fun getting to write down some of the deeper lore for this silly little au... I will likely do more of this sort of thing in the future. Hope anyone who read all that enjoyed it. I might actually write some stories too, who knows.

p.s. If you're curious, Steel left the kirin village (or some other kirin location) a long time ago. Probably because he had a difference of opinion with them, or didn't have any interest in being 'silenced.'

Saber was born in Canterlot, so he doesn't remember the village or have a connection to his heritage. His mother (an unnamed unicorn) isn't around anymore, and Steel raised Saber by himself.

p.p.s. I uh kinda forgot to mention this but I am working from the idea that there are three factions going on, two of which are Celestia and Luna's respective royal guards, and the other which takes on the role local authorities, militia, etc would fill. Kinda how the Wonderbolts are essentially an air force. The Equestrian Guard might have its headquarters in Canterlot, but it's based throughout Equestria. The Day/Night Guards (who let's face it, are indeed often kind of useless and largely ceremonial) are not Equestria's army, internal security force, or anything; that's where the Equestrian Guard comes in.

[capybaraonabicycle]

Martha Dunnstock and Ruth Fleming would worship each other send fic

[starheirxero]

ME WHEN SCARY THEMED LORE VIDEO: YAAAAAAYYYYYY 💖😍👍💘💓💞🌸🌺💫🥰‼️

[hauntingblue]

Try not to make fights between two women look homoerotic challenge level impossible

[electromignion]

My Little Pony: Bridgewater is Magic

This is what happens when I have my specific interests making crossovers in my mind: you end up with myself asking to myself: what would the Bridgewater characters look like if they were ponies? So here you go with our mane 3: Olivia Hoskins, Vipin Khurana and Jeremy Bradshaw! Nobody asked for them but my own silly brain but here they are 🙏

I spent a good amount of research time for them not gonna lie especially as it is the first time I draw ponies ever!!

After the read more a close up of the ponies and a few explanations:

I forgot to take a pic of Jeremy when I put the white hair of beard on him sorry! So the brown scheme is because I picture him with his brown corduroy coat, the hair going grey, with his glasses. The bag with his usual pins of course, and also his cutie mark is a reminder of him since he was a foal, trying to seek for the truth through research hence the bulb lighting up on the written paperwork! And a unicorn because he kinda believes in magic although he doesn’t so I don’t think he would use much his power at least at first!

Our best earth pony: Vipin!! Red is for his hoodie, my brain is simple, he has a bag too because Jeremy’s TA with the matching pin, and the sunflower cutie mark is because he’s that sunshine person with everybody, happy to help and just here with a lot of joy and optimism! However I do feel like he had unicorn ancestry so as Pinkie Pie he’d have that kind of Pinkie sense which saved the trio quite a lot

Then here’s Olivia!! Purple colour because I think it’s her fave colour, and the hair represents the hair I headcanon her with. The cutie mark is a heart in three parts because it shows how caring and loving she is, the outer heart is for anypony, the second heart is for her family and friends, and the inner heart is for herself because she learnt to love herself <3 and she is a fashion icon hence the piercings and makeup 🫶

I chose her to be a Pegasus because of that thought I had (do not read it if you’re not done with Bridgewater and that you understand MLP ways of pony genetics although it might be off slightly)

I hope you enjoyed!!! Thank you for bearing with my brain <3

[phoenixcatch7]

The problem I'm having with one of my stories is that it is compelling - but not clicking.

It's a sephiroth gets reincarnated into mdzs. Straightforward. I've got several branching paths: lwj, jc, nmj (my personal fave) and the jade twins (one mind in two bodies). All five of them have great potential, but for some reason my heart is set on sephiroth!lwj, because the aesthetic is sublime.

But! It's! Not! Working!

My main problems are a) despite similar surfaces, sephiroth has fundamentally different morals and life experiences to lwj and lwjs morals are a huge part of his and wwx's stories. B) I can't NOT have wangxian. I don't ship often at all, but when I do I'm pretty set on it lol. I don't want to deny soulmates. Unfortunately I HATE writing romance. C) I do not think sephiroth should be in any sort of romantic relationship at all nor can I see him wanting one. I've read tons of fics where he is in relationships (healthy or otherwise) and they're amazing, yes, but... Under my pen it's just not in the cards. And I do feel pairing him with wwx would just amplify wwx's worst traits, which is the opposite of what lwj does for him.

Everything's in conflict, but the lure of sephiroths second childhood in strict gusu and his complicated feelings about it, wwx being a perfect mix of all his important people with a spine of steel and righteousness that they all lost as everything fell apart, the relationship between sephiroth and his new mother, and how he'd inexplicably lose her too, the white on white aesthetic, the older identical brother, the cruel angels aesthetic with the benevolent demon, the angst of wwx's defection and death, his relationship with qi as a planet's overflowing life force, the tragedy of the mourning angel, monster x monster.... It calls to me.

But there's also the way wwx becoming a demonic cultivator was so vital to winning the war, and the way that affected things, gave him a legitimacy. Involve the silver soldier, and well. Everything else becomes a little extraneous lol. And sephiroth himself is such a big mover and shaker, I don't know what I could do to manage that without wiping out 80% of the remaining jianghu after the burial mounds siege with sephiroth appointing himself king lmao. He's not the kind of person to make small ripples, you know?

And I'd love a twin jades au to sort of turn the chaos inwards a bit (nmj and jgy would be Excellent foils) but again, I can't separate wangxian and imagining scenes feels a bit too close to incest for my tastes, even when it's ONE PERSON in identical bodies!

It's frustrating, wanting to write a non romance fic set in a love story lol. I just. I hate writing romance. But wangxian just don't want to be parted.

But the image of lwj in the xuanwu cave secretly covering a feverish wwx with his wing, only to notice a handful of white feathers pushing through the black as he unknowingly becomes a better person through showing care for other people, shaking his own deep belief that he is a horrible irredeemable creature incapable of love. Caught in an act of love. Hnggh.

Any ideas?!

[widowshill]

man some of those tags on that "why did you follow this person" post got to me. man !!! !

[jankwritten]

hi hello I saw hockey au in your tags and came as fast as I could. hand it over

OAIOSUdoiaSUDoiASUdoAISduAISODu Oh buddy it's my. PJO OMG Check Please crossover fic right. Consuming my life. The thing is it's like, over 600 pages but it's nowhere NEAR ready to see the light of day *i am hiding* but i will give a summary synopsis because oh my god i love it so fuCKING MUCH

Percy and Nico are on the Falcs alongside the canon OMGCP Falcs, and there are 2 sides to the story - Percy and Will's side, and Jason and Nico's side. Lately I've been focusing on Jason and Nico's side.

It's kind of just following them in their lives. Jason is the top prospect for the upcoming draft, Nico is the backup goalie for the Falcs who got drafted the year before (he's like, UNREALISTICALLY good because I wanted to make him Special oaiudsoaisudaoiuds) and they meet in a bar in Vegas after the Falcs get their asses kicked by the Aces. Jason, unsurprisingly, is friends with/mentored by Kent Parson, they met once after an Aces game and the rest is history. Jason and Nico are both like, trying to teach each other about hockey and falling in love but they're not boyfriends but they want to be but they can't and they're supporting each other even though Shit keeps Happening.

Will and Percy's side of the story is kind of similar, except Percy has been with the Falcs for a few years. I honestly need to rewrite their side because So Much has changed in my views of their characters and the characters involved with their side that it's just not accurate anymore. There are moments where it crosses over with Jason and Nico's side too which don't align anymore since I've edited it to death, but basically Will and Percy's side is like, meetcute moment turns into a weirdly coincidental second meeting which turns into an "are you stalking me?" third meeting kind of vibe (Will works for the Stars and Percy just doesn't pick up on the Stars being in town every time he bumps into Will LMAO). It deals a lot with Percy figuring some shit out about himself and his past and his emotional situation.

I'm half considering adding more of the actual demigods from PJO in as the other characters on the Falcs/Aces - right now I have OCs, because it seemed easier and gave me more room to play with, but also the idea of like. Frank being the Aces goalie is....very fun, even though I also HC that Swoops is the Aces goalie

All the ages are fucked with because I Wanted To - all the Falcs/Aces are like, as old as they would be in 2018/19, but then the PJO characters are ALL fucked up. Percy Annabeth and Will are all around the same age, Jason and Nico are 18, Hazel is 16ish, and then I haven't really used any other PJO characters (though Leo and Piper have made an appearance in a side story that is becoming more and more canon, they are also both 18-19 ish). Frank is also around Jason's age I think, but he was only ever mentioned in reference to Jason's backstory and never in the actual story (yet).

SO YEAH HOCKEY AU MY BIG PROJECT MY BABYGIRL MY EMOTIoNAL SUPPORT FIC I have written up a full Falcs roster of OCs and have made timelines of events and even created my own hockey team set in Maine specifically so if I ever wanted to make this into an original fiction piece one day I could.

[hailsatanacab]

hey guys

so I do understand that this is a  v e r y  niche crossover, but now that it’s in my mind, I cannot stop thinking about it - DP x Thrilling Adventure Hour Beyond Belief - and you know what?

It’s time to send the little ones to dreamland

And set your radio’s dial to spooky

Bolt the doors, lock your windows, and steal yourself for mysterious suspense in today’s feature... Beyond Belief

Meet Frank and Sadie Doyle, toast of the upper crust, headliners on the society pages, and oh yes... They see ghosts

“Who cares what evil lurks in the hearts of men?”

“Unless evil’s carrying a martini tray, darling!” *clink*

Join the Doyles in today’s spooktacular episode: “In the Spirit of Help”

Our story begins as Frank and Sadie make their way home from an auction, in which they both take great joy, and come across a gravely injured, glowing, ghost boy.

“Look, Frank! A gravely injured, glowing, ghost boy!”

“Yes, Sadie, so I’ve heard.”

“It looks like he’s been in a fight, don’t you think? What should we do?”

“Walk right on by, I say. Nothing to do with us.”

“Frankenstein Misery Doyle, how could you be so heartless? I know you lost out on that 150 year old bottle of scotch to Secular Charlie again, but she had the faster paddle and we have to respect that.”

“The only fast paddle I will respect is yours, Sadistic.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way! Now, Frank, look at him. He’s just a poor, sweet, spirit of a child, and we can’t leave him alone out here in the cold.”

“While you do make a compelling point, Sadie my dear, there are some other, sweeter spirits that I’m itching to pour back at home. What say we wrap this up and get us both a martini?”

“Well, go ahead then, wrap him up and let’s get home. That liquor cabinet is calling my name.”

“And mine too, I should hope! Daddy’s coming, liquor cabinet, don’t worry!”