#Minor canon divergence

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - April 2023 - Canon Divergence/AU

(("I’m not great at writing AUs" I say in the March post, not realizing I'd picked up my clown makeup that day. I meant to write something else out of the possible prompts; this happened instead. More notes at the end. Year of the OTP prompt list here. This is 3550 words of an alternate Shadowbringers timeline.))

Crack

His gunshot struck true, the familiar dissipating with an ear-splitting screech and burst of aether.

“Bastard!” Ran’jit shouted. Still moving too fast, going from stumbling to rushing in, fists connecting with a suddenly fragile-seeming sternum and ribcage.

Air knocked out, he flew backwards.

“Zaine!” Thancred’s voice sounded far away.

Crack

The gunblade’s last shot filled the air, bursting with the girl’s aether.

There was a gurgled cry, and then a slumping sound. Ran’jit said something Zaine couldn’t make out as he made himself partly sit up—just in time to watch the general finish falling to the ground, dead.

The point of Thancred’s gunblade dug into the dirt as he fell to a knee, panting. He was bruised and bleeding, having taken the brunt of Ran’jit’s rage while Zaine dashed around with his revolver and automatons, trying to get in shots past nearly impenetrable defenses. It had been hells, but together, they’d done it.

Thancred tried to stand, then fell, splayed out on his back in a puff of dust.

“Thancred!” Zaine rasped. He tried to get up, but oh, that hurt; he definitely had some cracked—maybe broken—ribs, his cuirass the only thing holding him together, and none too well. He crawled to his companion.

Whatever rogue’s trick Thancred had been pulling to vanish so completely from Ran’jit’s preternatural senses—even Zaine, familiar with Thancred’s aether and abilities and with a few tricks of his own, hadn’t been able to sense him—had taken its toll, perhaps even more than Ran’jit’s martial arts and magicks had.

Zaine knew what a dying man looked like, and Thancred was standing on Thal’s threshold.

“No no no you don’t,” Zaine rasped as he finally reached him. Thancred’s injuries were extensive, but it was definitely the aetheric drain—in a man who couldn’t properly manipulate aether—taking its toll.

And yet Thancred, with an arm over his eyes to shield them from the unrelenting Light above, smiled, the whisper of a word finishing with a last breath as Zaine reached him.

“C’mon, Thancred, stay with me,” Zaine begged, searching through his comrade’s many pockets and pouches. “Godsdammit, where are your potions?”

He knew some had been used in the battle, but wasn’t certain when Thancred had last restocked; surely before they had returned to the desert. Zaine finally found the remnants of two vials smashed from one of Ran’jit’s crushing attacks, and swore in Thavnairian.

“If I find whoever taught you that aetheric cutoff trick, I’m wringing their neck,” he muttered. He barely had enough energy for himself, but something had to be done.

“The girl needs you,” Zaine said, certain of her choice. “Aeryn needs you. You gotta stay with us, brother.”

He wasn’t nearly the mage his sister was, but he had no options. Drawing on what little he had left, he cast his own rudimentary healing spell.

Were those familiar voices calling their names, or his own wishful thinking?

Zaine blacked out as Thancred coughed in a breath.

—

The night sky over Amh Araeng was clear and cold. Looking out over the shadowed landscape from the balcony of the old inn, Zaine could almost imagine himself back in Thanalan, if not for the great glittering wall of translucent crystal along the southern horizon.

“Farewell, sweetheart,” he whispered, tears prickling at his eyes even as he smiled.

He had given up his last chance to see her, but couldn’t regret that decision.

Not when he had looked up to see his sister’s relieved, tear-streaked face. It was the damn rogue she had embraced first, her eyes bright with joy.

Zaine didn’t regret it when they’d caught sight of the girl and her changes, inside and out. Couldn’t regret, seeing the look on her face when Thancred gave her a new name.

Perhaps, Zaine thought, he had let Minfilia go long ago without quite realizing it, his and Thancred’s contentious relationship one of habit and a lack of honest discussion, even as they stood side by side to keep their Scion family safe.

“Gil for your thoughts?” the man in question asked from right beside him, having silently joined Zaine, knowing he hated it when Thancred did that.

Zaine managed not to jump, only shrugged and smiled. “Thinking we had a helluva day and I’m going to be sore for a moon, even with our friends’ expert healing.”

“They’re certainly better at it than you are,” Thancred agreed.

“It was enough to keep you alive.”

“It was, and I am grateful. Though I wish it had not come with risk to yourself.”

“I’d do it all again—including the lecture from Y’shtola—in a heartbeat,” Zaine replied. Their sorceress had not been amused by the levels of aetheric drain both of them had committed.

“Brave man,” Thancred deadpanned. “Though I feel the same. Thank you, for having my back. Even if I haven’t always been as gracious about it as I could have been.”

“Thank you for always having mine. Even if I haven’t always been good about it, either.” Zaine looked at the Floodwall again. “It’s funny how much we’ve been pricks to each other, when it’s the last thing she’d have wanted.”

“Well, you are quite stubborn,” Thancred said, smiling.

“Says the most aurochs-headed man I know,” Zaine answered with his own grin.

“I suppose that’s better than what you usually call me; what was it? Hamsa-headed?”

“That too, but we’ll ignore that for now.”

They laughed, then winced, as not all of their injuries could be magically healed and the foray into the depths of the well hadn’t helped. They were both similarly attired in simple spare undershirts and trousers, the Scions having retired to Twine before returning to the Crystarium on the morrow—and their gear was in desperate need of cleaning and repair, only some of which could be done in the mining town.

“Talked to Ryne yet?” Zaine asked, trying to sound conversational. Her new name took no getting used to, fitting perfectly.

“Just finished; there was much to say. And now we both needed a bit of…Well.” Thancred shrugged.

“I can see that. But you and her’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.”

“Thancred, it’s been obvious you love that girl, even though you were a bloody idiot about how to show it for too long. And she adores you, even though she was too scared to say it—due to you being a hamsa-head.”

“Ah, there it is,” Thancred drawled. Yet they both remained relaxed, the interchange containing none of the tension and heat that even a day ago Zaine would have expected out of one or both of them.

They had left it in the sands with Ran’jit’s corpse, where it belonged.

“But,” Zaine continued. “So long as you remember how to use that silver tongue of yours to actually talk like a person to her, it’ll work out.”

“I do think we’re on our way.”

“There is one thing you ought to do tonight yet, though.”

Thancred raised a brow. “Oh?”

Zaine let out a breath, and then gestured to a nearby window, interior view blocked by thin curtains. “Go talk to Aeryn.”

The shift was subtle, but Thancred’s demeanor went blank in an attempt to disguise his feelings.

“I know you two were sneaking about like a couple of adolescents back in the Source,” Zaine said, holding up a hand to forestall Thancred’s protest. “And there’s been at least one rendezvous here in the First, unless I miss my guess about what you two got up to in Rak’tika.” Now Thancred looked away, not embarrassed, but not willing to look Zaine in the eye, either. “And there’s still much to do and a lot going on…”

The way Aeryn had gasped and clutched her chest after taking in this last Lightwarden’s aether was concerning. His mind went back to Y’shtola’s privately mentioned concerns, and Urianger’s recalcitrance.

“…But if this adventure has taught us anything, it's that we shouldn't keep putting off what needs to be said. And any fool can see how you two feel about one another. Waiting on it won’t make it easier—and the opportunity may slip by at all.”

“Speaking from experience?” Thancred’s gaze remained on Aeryn’s window.

“A little,” Zaine said. “When I found out five whole years had passed, and with everything happening…Minfilia and I decided to take it slowly, especially since it seemed we’d barely begun before Carteneau. We wanted to figure out where we stood after she’d lived so much more time, while I hadn’t. We were really only just sorting ourselves out again when…well, when the Banquet happened.” He shrugged. “And now here we are, where you’ve lived five whole years while no time’s passed for Aeryn, after you’d both barely got your heads out of your arses to begin with, and Twelve only know what tomorrow’ll bring.”

“Right.” Thancred took a breath and straightened “And you’re not going to be bothered if aught does happen between…us?” He forced the last word.

“‘Course I’ll be bothered; that’s my baby sister. And if you hurt her, once she’s through with you, I’ll beat down whatever’s left.”

Thancred laughed only a tinge nervously (and with another wince), his practiced suave demeanor holding a tide of doubts and concerns at bay. “I seem to recall a similar sentiment spoken between us before, if in reverse.”

“I never claimed to be original. You said it prettier though, sounded way more threatening.”

“Thank you, I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“In all honesty though…I just want her to be happy. You too; you both deserve it. Don’t you dare,” Zaine said, when Thancred immediately tried to argue. “You two are disgustingly cute together, especially when you think no one’s noticing, but it’s good for you. So go talk to her, cuz after all the shite you’ve pulled, it’s needed.”

“Very well,” Thancred said. “Assuming all is well between you and I; ‘twas my reason for coming out here, after all.”

“‘Less there’s something I don’t know about, I think we are good. Finally.”

Thancred smiled slightly, clapping a hand on Zaine’s arm as he stepped away. He paused and took a breath before heading inside. A few moments later, a shadow crossed Aeryn’s window as she moved to answer her door.

“I need a drink,” Zaine said, waiting until two shadows crossed the window again to go inside himself.

—

A bath almost had Aeryn feeling clean, and now she sat cross-legged on the narrow bed in the tiny room. There was no point sitting at the small square of a table to write; it and the chair were the only spaces available for her pack and other gear. So she had out her little lap board for sketching and writing in her journal.

More messy sketches tonight; words were proving difficult, though she had a few random, broken phrases thrown in. Notes to herself for when she was in a better mindset to properly record the long day’s events.

They ought to finally sit up for Minfilia, in the tradition of their people for a lost loved one. Not tonight; she was not going to be able to stay awake all night, nor was this room good for doing so. She needed space, and things to do, and to convince Zaine to begin with…

She had a feeling of someone nearby; nothing concrete, no sound, yet something caught the edge of her empathic senses. After a long wait, she just about gave it up as imagined when there was a tentative knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Thancred’s voice was soft and further muffled by the old wood. “Might I come in?”

Aeryn set aside her journal as she unfolded and stood. It was a few short steps to unlock and open the door. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, fine, I just wished to…talk.”

Her brow raised. “He really did beat the sense into you, didn’t he?” She stepped aside to admit him.

“Very funny,” Thancred replied dryly as he looked around. “One would think the Warrior of Darkness warranted a larger room.”

She wrinkled her nose at the title. “If I was sharing with Alisaie or Y’shtola, perhaps. But Alisaie’s rooming with Ryne, and Y’shtola and I decided ‘twould be best to have our own spaces, small as they are. I’m surprised this inn has so many rooms.”

“Likely from far more prosperous times; this building’s pre-Flood,” Thancred answered, sitting on the edge of the bed for lack of anywhere else. “But I didn’t come to speak of our accommodations.”

“You and Ryne have spoken?” Aeryn sat next to him.

He chuckled. “Aye, and we’ve come to an understanding, I believe, though she required some space to think on all that was said.”

Aeryn nodded. “Quite the day for all involved.”

They sat in silence for a breath, then both tried to speak at once, staring at each other for a blink before sheepishly chuckling. She knew her usual easy blush already crept across her cheeks.

“You first,” Thancred said.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be there with us,” she said. “I wish we’d made certain of Ran’jit’s fate in the Ronkan ruins so that you could be.”

Thancred shook his head. “We had no way of knowing he had his own tricks to survive that fall. And perhaps…it worked better that I was not present. I never wanted to influence Ryne’s decision—though I hadn’t realized that no matter what I did, that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“But I know how much you wanted to see Minfilia again. I made sure she knew…though it seemed she did already.”

“I said my piece, lying there in the sands. And I am at peace with that. So please; think no more about it. I did what I had to, to ensure Ryne’s success. I have no regrets on that matter.” He frowned a little, as if wishing to continue but unsure how.

“Just one more thing then: Thank you. For letting Zaine stay.”

Thancred raised a brow. “He didn’t give much choice. I wish he could have gone with you, wish he had not taken such injuries. Yet I cannot regret that he stayed either.”

“I was scared for you both; I was afraid of what would happen if either of you tried Ran’jit alone. I…” she paused in thought. “I’m happy you’re here,” she finally said, quickly, not quite looking at him but smiling as she carefully covered his hand with her own.

He turned his palm up to grasp her hand, idly running his thumb along a thin scar. “I’m quite happy to be here as well,” he said quietly. “Alive…and in this room.”

Her blush was in her ears. “You um, wanted to say something a bit ago?”

He took a moment, holding her hand. “If I were to have…further regrets this day, Ryne is not the only one to whom I owed a conversation. I know we’ve…tried, and it did not go well.” She nodded and managed to not cringe at the memory of their argument in his Crystarium apartment. “But I cannot go longer without…speaking my mind.”

“Zaine put you up to this?” she tried to joke.

“More ‘strongly encouraged.’ A relief, really, given our own contentious history.”

“Are you two all right? Given…everything.”

“I believe so; I went to clear the air with him, and found it already so, strangely enough.”

Aeryn thought about how to ask her next question. “And…are we all right?” She wanted to wince.

“Well, that rather depends, doesn’t it?” He turned to face her, still holding her hand. “I’m no longer angry about that argument, and wish to apologize for not being more forthcoming about…a good number of things.”

“I ought to be the one apologizing, what I said was horrid.”

Thancred huffed out a laugh. “Not entirely unwarranted, and I know why. Nor was I terribly reassuring. I must say I do prefer the…discussion we had in Rak’tika.”

Her blush’s heat crawled all the way down her neck. “I appreciated the um. Reassurance there,” she said.

He lifted her hand, brushing his lips over her fingers. “It made me realize how very much I’d missed you. I thought I already knew, after years spent dreaming of your memory, as well dreams of seeing you again.” Her breath caught, unable to look away from those warm golden-brown eyes as they watched her. “You know,” he continued. “I wrote you letters.”

“What?”

“Just after the turn of the year, when Norvrandt would see the equivalent to your nameday. I knew time was not passing for you, yet there were so many things I did not risk forgetting. It gave me an excuse to put down a good many thoughts. Some feelings.” His free hand played with a lock of her long, loose black hair.

Aeryn’s heart was pounding. “What sort of feelings?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Ones I hesitated to name, but after today, and whatever’s happening with you and the Lightwardens…Well I should like to think I have learned my lessons.”

“Didn’t you once claim you were a terrible student?” she teased.

“Only when I did not care for the subject.” His hand cupped her cheek now. “But you I could study forever, in an attempt to learn every detail.”

“…Oh,” was all she could answer, her mouth suddenly dry. She ought to be able to say more than that, but her head was spinning and her pulse was rapid.

Thancred cleared his throat. “I…love you, Aeryn,” he said. “I am in love with you. I don’t expect aught in return,” he added quickly. “But I’m here, and I’m yours, if…if you want.”

In Aeryn’s mind, a puzzle piece clicked into place as a sensation she had been unable to define clarified. A feeling she had held close inside, sensing the same within him but afraid they had been simply reflecting one another—it was not a reflection, but a connection, and it had a name.

She leaned forward, pulling him to her for a kiss. He took a moment to relax, due to the surprise, but quickly recovered, arms around her, sighing into a closer embrace.

Aeryn reluctantly broke away, resting her cheek against his. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I think for a while, I just didn’t realize it. Now that I have, all that I want is you here.”

Thancred let out a deep breath against her neck, a last level of tension melting as he held her. “Well, certainly less awkward that way,” he tried to joke, but emotion thickened his voice.

Aeryn couldn’t help a brief giggle. “Can you stay tonight?”

“If that is your wish. Though I’m afraid I’m not fully recovered.”

“That’s all right; just you being here is enough,” she replied as they shifted, until lying side by side on the narrow bed, holding one another close in assurance and comfort after the day’s events.

She recalled the first time they had simply held one another like this, talking until they had fallen asleep, in an officer’s bunk the night before the assault on Ala Mhigo. Thinking back, her brother had made some oblique comments the next day.

Aeryn grinned. “Although, if you don’t mind, I’ll still want to borrow your shirt briefly in the morning.”

—

Morning dawned clear over Amh Araeng, all pinks and golds before becoming blues. It was still cool, and most folks were yet in bed, the novelty of the night sky keeping many awake longer than usual the evening before.

And so Zaine found himself in the inn’s kitchen—with permission from the sleepy Ronso grandmother usually reigning over that space—to start the coffee and a simple breakfast for his comrades. They would have to set out to return to the Crystarium before long.

A familiar step caught his ear, and he braced himself. A moment later he had acquired an Aeryn backpack, her arms over his chest, legs hanging behind his, her toes not quite reaching the floor.

“I’m trying to cook y’know.”

“I just wanted to thank you,” Aeryn replied, way too close to his ear.

“For breakfast?” Zaine asked dryly.

“For last night.”

“Dunno what you mean, and don’t want to.”

Her arms tightened briefly in a hug, and she brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Well thanks anyroad.” She let go, landing lightly and turning to the coffee pot.

Zaine glanced her way, then looked again. She was preparing two mugs which was questionable enough, but what had truly caught his attention was the familiar shirt that certainly did not belong to her, hanging on her slim frame in a way it did not when he’d seen it worn by its broader-built owner the night before.

“Ugh,” Zaine grunted as Aeryn gave him a bright, sweet smile, before carrying both mugs back upstairs. Given how sore and achy he still felt this morning, could they truly have—

“No,” he said to himself. “Not thinking about that.”

Back to focusing on breakfast and what would come next once they returned to the Crystarium. There might even be a few changes, he thought with a glance at the stairs, before they considered the last Lightwarden.

And while he might take a brother’s prerogative to grouse about a certain change, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

((My usual canon divergence of "Ran'jit shoulda died at the trolley by Thancred's hand" is present; in mainline, Ran'jit's tactics are for 1 opponent, and Aeryn had helped Ryne with some magic that was incorporated into that special practice Cartridge. Here Ran'jit knows how to fight against two, but Zaine's presence both disrupts and makes up for the lack of Aeryn's aid in the cartridge.

That Zaine's here at all is a major divergence from my usual Aeryn WoL canon; mainline, Zaine doesn't come out the other side of Louisoix's spell, diverted by Hydaelyn and making a choice to aid the injured divinity directly. She chooses to send him back here instead of accepting his offer. With Zaine present, Aeryn gets to share the burdens and responsibility of being a WoL, so in some ways is lighter in mood and has more fun, though her imposter syndrome's worse, as she initially sees herself as second to Zaine for too long; it's only in ShB and EW that it becomes more apparent to her whose story this is (Zaine figured it out awhile ago).

The other major change to my usual story, is with Zaine to talk to, Aeryn also doesn't have her same regrets about Haurchefant, and here, the "I love you"s exchanged with Thancred comes earlier than in the main story (where it happens before facing Emet-Selch in Amaurot, though Thancred also says it in a letter after Mt Gulg). Zaine is a mediator and counselor at heart, and keeps the Scions grounded a lot of times in this AU.

Aeryn and Zaine just getting to be siblings has been described as "bittersweet" given his loss in the main wolverse. They're their own kind of bond, in more ways than one.

I have a whole outline of "Zaine Lives" up to 6.1. This is ridiculous. I have enough to write for my main WoLverse. Darn blorbos.))

[goober-37]

I’m trying to make comics again, so stay tuned for a potential mini series on my stitchpunk OC, 10 👀

[gothamite-rambler]

People in Gotham questioning the Robins (in this headcanon some of the villains are aware that Batman is his father and some aren't)

Penguin: Why is the younger Robin… why is he brown?

Batman: The younger one?

Batman looked at Damian, who was in his Robin suit and munching on a granola bar. The kid suddenly glanced at his own brown skin and gasped dramatically.

Damian (jokingly): Oh my God, I am!

Sofia: He's funny; we respect the diversity.

Batman: My oldest son is Romani.

Sofia: Really? Fascinating. Isn’t that fascinating, Penguin?

Penguin: Eh, I still think he gave the kid the suit to use him as target practice. But seriously, why is the current one brown? I'm not trying to be rude, but he looks the same age as the first Robin.

Damian: Awesome! I can't wait to tell Nightwing.

Batman (annoyed): His mother is Arabic. When a white guy and an Arabic woman have a baby, a mixed child is born.

Penguin: Wait, Talia is brown?!

Batman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Damian: How did you know about her?

Sofia: I got nosy and found out you're related. Talia adores you so much and you're dad's lucky she hid any photos of what you both might look like. Seriously though, you hooked up with Talia and had a kid, Batman? I knew it would happen with her or Catwoman.

Sofia laughed, which made Batman growl in offense.

Damian: Hooked up?

Batman: He didn’t need to hear that, but yes, he’s my youngest son, and he’s related to her.

Penguin: Now see I forget sometimes that she's brown. I heard she was mixed with something, but never crossed my mind.

Batman: Her father is Ra's Al Ghul.

Penguin: Wait… so he's brown?

Batman: Can you please stop saying "brown"!

Damian: It's fine; I feel like I’m going to hear worse later in life.

Sofia (sympathetic, her brows furrowing): Aww… yeah.

Batman: All right, we're going to leave now enjoy prison.

Penguin: We'll both be out soon. We’ve just been curious about that for years. I almost reported you for kidnapping a little brown boy.

Damian grabbed his father's arm, dragging him away before he could retaliate against the man.

Damian: Let it go. We’ve heard worse.

[blanze]

It feels good to be back.

(A more risque version under the cut)

[archer-kacey]

Problems with erasing Bendy Book canon:

With the FNAF books, we were told they were canon-divergent fairly early on. For Bendy, this was never specified, leading many to believe this was all just straight-up canon information that they were running with for theorycrafting. For a long time.

Why the hell would you de-canonize the ENTIRE origin story of Boris? He's a central character to Bendy and the Ink Machine.

You're going to throw out THE ENTIRE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF YOUR MAIN VILLAIN? THAT'S.......NOT A GOOD IDEA!

(And before it's pointed out, no, we don't "need" Illusion of Living for "gay evidence." The point here is y'all released an autobiography for one of your two main characters and you're saying it's not canon. That's ludicrous.)

Things that were explained/brought up in the novels that apparently "aren't canon anymore": how Sammy got infected, Thomas's conflicting feelings about the machine he created, the origin of Boris the wolf, several instances of Joey's gaslighting and manipulative behavior and his slow descent into madness after Henry's departure, a look into Gent technology and the Gent experiments that took place after they switched over to "research", Abby Lambert (who SHOULD be in the mainline games all things considered), Joey Drew's ENTIRE AUTOBIOGRAPHY including his PHILOSOPHIES AND REAL ASS LIFE, ANDDD the themes of classism, racism, and sexism that were VERY present at that time in history. Among other things.

You're taking out several new characters for no reason. I'm not saying they all need to return, but it makes zero sense to introduce a bunch of new guys and then immediately abandon them...only to introduce a bunch of OTHER new guys.

I've seen a few comments in response to Mike that go along the lines of "oh thank goodness now I don't need to read the books to understand the lore!" No disrespect, but I think that's a fundamental misunderstanding of what the books do. They enhance your understanding of all the background plot. You don't need to read the books to understand the games. But that shouldn't mean erasing the existing information's canonicity because not everyone wants to read it.

Bendy isn't FNAF. Bendy has a much more streamlined plot. Not everything fits perfectly of course, but to take out such a large chunk of what we THOUGHT was the plot (or plot-adjacent) is headscratching to me. You claim to care about the plot, characters and worldbuilding and then you decide that some of the BEST written interpretations of these characters and their world just aren't "legitimate" now? .......All of a sudden?

I want to punch something

[wangxianficrecs]

An Unscheduled Stream by trippednfell

An Unscheduled Stream

by trippednfell (@trippednfell)

M, WIP, 29k, Wangxian

Summary: A viral video sweeps through the internet, which appears to show the 1st disciple of Yunmeng Jiang take on a full nest of evil beings in an attempt to protect five juniors from his sect. The unscheduled livestream captures everyone's attention, but there has to be more there than meets the eye. The Lan assign their own 1st disciple, Lan Wangji, to investigate. That investigation will take him years into the future and miles away from Gusu as he seeks to find the truth. When he does find it, it has a far greater impact on his life than he could ever imagine. Kay's comments: I just stumbled over this story and immediately binged it, because it ticked all the right boxes for me. The Wei-Wen found family vibes are impeccable and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian just met in the most recent chapter after Lan Wangji has been obsessing over Wei Wuxian for the last years, so I'm really excited to see where the story goes next. Excerpt: The matter was closed. Lan Wangji had spent hours at his desk, typing and formatting the report for its inclusion in the Lan Archives. He needed to stretch, move his body, meditate and quiet his mind. But he hesitated, before shutting down his computer. The mystery of Wei Wuxian worried at him, pulling his focus. He navigated to the official cultivator rankings, and searched his name. There were zero hits. That was impossible. Every sect had to register their disciples, it was required. People who could wield power of any kind had to be identified and traced. He pulled up Yunmeng Jiang, and visually scanned through their listings. Jiang Wanyin was now listed as first disciple and heir in waiting, and Wei Wuxian’s name did not appear, not even in the “formerly affiliated” section. Yunmeng Jiang had erased any evidence of his existence. Lan Wangji then navigated to sites he typically avoided as much as possible. But needs must, and if all the official sites no longer contained any information on him, he would have to go to the fan sites. Immediately he found that he was not the only one looking into it. Yunmeng Jiang dominated the forums, with the number one thread being one titled: What the fuck happened with YMJ? Lan Wangji settled in to read.

pov alternating, canon divergence, modern setting, modern with magic, minor character death, rogue cultivator wei wuxian, demonic cultivator wei wuxian, bamf wei wuxian, lan wangji/wei wuxian get a happy ending, time skips, not yunmeng jiang sect friendly, families of choice, getting to know each other, developing relationship, slow burn

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[falmerbrook]

Not to be too corny but the new year has got me thinking and I really appreciate this blog because this is pretty much the only site/community/fandom where I don't stress out over posting every single thing I post, afraid I'll be shit on for... something (my brain is very good at coming up with hypotheticals). I know, I know I'm way too sensitive and i shouldn't care about what others think and the internet isn't real so it doesn't matter etc. etc. but unfortunately I just don't know how to get my brain to work like that. I mean, I'm still too afraid of being cringe to draw/write/yap about everything I'd hypothetically like to, but I've been way more social and open to posting my thoughts on here than I've ever been before, and it's made me more confident online overall. So thank you all for being so welcoming and chill!

[paalove]

be whatever you need me to be

Bison is chewing.

He adds pork to the rice on the spoon, which means it’s for sure not meant for Kant, but he opens his mouth – really watering – and leans over anyway, because Bison wants him to be his dog today and Kant is willing to give him that, and he needs to see it in Kant’s eyes, now, no matter what Bison does next.

The moment stretches and the ocean waves grow louder as he stares into Bison’s reddened eyes.

In which Bison makes a slightly different call with the pork and the rice - they still end up in the same place, though.

my absolute favourite thing about kantbison's little beach escapade is that bison keeps kant barefoot and is constantly wearing sandals himself. this fic is not about that detail, except for how it is.

[profoundbondfanfic]

A Fabulous Evening’s Apocalypse

A Fabulous Evening’s Apocalypse by MrBotanyB @mrbotanyb Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 62k

Look at it this way: Their trip to the far end of space and time to chase a (very) long shot at freeing Dean from the Mark of Cain could have ended a lot worse than it did. It wasn't even the worst idea they'd ever had. The so-called Restaurant At the End of the Universe loops endlessly in time through the final hours of Creation while guests dance, eat, and drink until the very last of last calls. A consequence of it being a time loop is that anybody who visits can meet everybody else who was ever there. Even a centuries-dead witch who likes the challenge of lifting unbreakable curses. It didn't work out like they'd hoped, but they didn't die. And Cas did get stranded there for a bit but they got him back. Eventually. So it was fine. That was then. And now, Sam and Dean are out of ideas for getting Cas out of the Empty. Dean has been thinking a lot about realizing important truths too late, and missed chances, and (very) long shots. And he wonders if the key to rescuing the Cas he lost might just be enlisting the help of the Cas he left behind nearly ten years ago. If it doesn't work, at least he'll get to see Cas one more time.

I'll admit I am the number one target audience of this fic. I am a massive Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy fan. That being said, you don't have to love that series to enjoy this story.

Expect Dean and Cas in increasingly ridiculous surroundings, fun aliens, working conditions that would make OSHA weep, and some timey wimey ridiculousness that is really quite clever and fun. Also pining. So much delicious pining.

The OCs are a treat as is the setting at The Restaurant at the End of the Universe aka Milliways. If you ARE a fan of HHGTTG, you will also have fun spotting the references.

And, of course, like any good fix-it, we get a happy ending for Dean and Cas.

[thesnailtail]

;; proper clover and ice references!!! finally... it's only been five months..

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Hello! I have a request

I recently forgot to bookmark this specific story and I erased my history before I even noticed. :(

I was wondering if you might know what the name is:

Law used the immortality surgery on Luffy during battle knowing he would die, but ended up surviving because I believe he had luffy's heart in his chest while Luffy had Law's in his own. If it helps Luffy was in gear 5 during battle.

Hey there, we got you!

Hearts Spring Eternal by riverofnara (E) Law swore he'd never perform the Perennial Youth Surgery. But in a desperate moment during Luffy’s final battle against Blackbeard, the opportunity comes and Law doesn't hesitate to take it…only to wake up alive afterwards. He deems it a failure, though in the end it doesn’t matter - Luffy still defeats Blackbeard and becomes the King of Pirates. But Law’s fateful decision that day leads to consequences he never could have imagined. And as he faces the rest of his life, he realizes he can’t escape what he’s done…nor the man he did it for.

-Mod Raiya

[steddieunderdogfics]

we can be heroes by hairstevington

@hairstevington

Rating: Not Rated

70,129 words, 20/? chapters

Archive Warning: Chose Not to Use

Tags: Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, season 4, Slow Burn, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Deaf Character, Deaf Steve Harrington, American Sign Language, Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Chrissy Cunningham Lives, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson Friendship, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Drama & Romance, Everyone Has Trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Plot Twists, love conquers all and all that jazz, Idiots in Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, like please know this fic does diverge from canon QUITE A BIT as it goes on, Vecna's Curse (Stranger Things), Not Canon Compliant

Summary:

Eddie’s got a bad habit of running away from things when they get too complicated. But when it comes to Steve, he always finds his way back.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @hairstevington. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Locked Away by lemonchase Pairing: Gen, Harry & Sirius Rating: T Word Count: 3k “You cannot throw a ten-year-old into Azkaban, minister!” “We aren’t throwing him anywhere. Besides, it’s just a temporary-” “You cannot punish a child for their accidental magic!” “How sure are you that it was an accident? For all we know, he could be dangerous. He killed three people and doesn’t show any regret.” “Of course, he doesn’t! Look at him! He’s in shock! I’m not even sure he can hear us.” Harry blinks and closes his eyes. Why do they need to be so loud? Why can’t they just shove him into a cupboard and leave him alone? He’s so tired. The adults keep talking, but Harry doesn’t try to listen to them anymore. Why bother? They will do with him whatever they want, either way. That’s how it will always be.

[sneak-pieck]

🩸⊹.What makes you human?  .⊹🩸

🩹𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐬? 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐫?🩹 𝐓𝐖!!! (𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞) 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬! Word Count: 2240 𓂃🖌 Art At The End! 🖌𓂃

Eren found himself asking that question an awful lot ever since he’d grown aware of what he was… what was done to him. For yeah,he was still himself, still looked the same and all that, but on a deeper level. What was he? Hell, who was he? The questions would haunt him, day and night they would make him grow tired and gain headaches as he scrambled his brain to find any crumb of an answer. Never emerging victorious from this battle with his own subconscious. 

   The breaking point was perhaps the moment it all came to him. Flooding his poor mind with the strength of a natural disaster, the memories- all of it feeling like a rock slowly but surely crushing him from the inside. Yet he said not a thing, keeping all of this to himself. Letting the storm ruin his insides first before ever thinking about allowing anyone to feel its sting and strength.

   Now more questions arose as the boy grew, as the memories flashed constantly before his very eyes, making him question what was real and what wasn’t sometimes. It was annoying,to say the least…until it became scary–until it became a bit too concerning even for him.

   From countless images that scattered themselves all over his retina, to one very specific set playing over and over again. 

     The day he lost his father. The day this curse was put upon him. The day he ate him. Hm…ate. Devoured maybe- dismembered…with such hunger. Sometimes Eren could swear he still felt that hunger somewhere deep within his stomach, perhaps his very core even. Long before the memories came to him, he’d soon realize,and that was concerning. Now staring down at what seemed to be a mass of meat resting on his plate, the boy would take a big bite out of it. Unable to hear whoever was sitting by him, in front of him, around him, he’d chew. And he’d ponder.

   Was this how it felt to eat his father? Was it this fulfilling to the creature that resided within him? Was it..this tasty?Did he taste him? Could he even taste while in that state? As disturbing as it sounded, the boy attempted now to focus on trying to remember…trying to search through the library of memories he had been offered against his will. Chewing the meat in his mouth still, hoping the muscle memory would too come to his aid.

   And he’d stop. Upon finding it, he would completely stop, growing pale. Comparing the taste of the meat he was digesting now to…the divine flavor of his father’s flesh felt like a crime. A sin even. Eyes wide and full of fear that things will never be the same stared ahead of himself, noticing that his body had made him spit out what he’d been chewing for a good five minutes without stopping.

   His friends had for sure begun worrying about him and the wet mess that now resided in the middle of his plate,corrupting the food that remained. Yet…upon looking up,the only thing Eren noticed was the darkness that surrounded him. That and the empty tables. He was alone- for how long had he been alone? Didn’t know…didn’t care. With a swift push the boy would be up and walking, headed outside to air his poor mind.

   That wasn’t to help. The image of his father’s ripping flesh would cloud his vision,and a loud growl left poor Eren. The blood running down his hands and face..soaking his chest and filling his mouth. Quenching a thirst that he didn’t even know was there. A thirst that now ravaged through his body,burning his lungs like hellfire, making him want to scream. But he couldn’t make a sound, no, for his focus yet again fell on the memory of that flavor…that taste- if he were to let out even the slightest of sounds, the flavor and the imagery would for sure vanish and leave him feeling empty.

   Yeah…empty. That’s what he felt on the daily, what he’d been feeling until this blessing was bestowed upon him. The gift of knowledge…the gift of tasting…of feeling the blood of the man that had offered him life trickle down his throat. 

   Eren made his way to his bed at some point, struggling to stay awake, yet by the grace of Ymir- he was struggling with being asleep. It was as if that very day a demon decided to begin tormenting him, tearing at the foundations of his being,making him question his humanity and his sanity.

   His days became a blurry mess, each time he transformed for battle, for Hange’s experiments or trivial tasks making it more and more hard to renounce the warmth of the flesh enclosure that became his new self. Each time Eren ached to stay inside for longer, for it was warm and cozy and silent.

   And he could kill. The absolute euphoria he felt whenever he got to kill a titan was indescribable. Perhaps someone should have noticed…could have noticed that Eren was not himself, yet nobody did. Everyone busy with their own fair share of work and tiring tasks, he couldn’t blame them.  He would perhaps blame himself for the tragedy that this sudden change in his core being would bring...but who cared? 

   Not him. Not as he held one of the newer recruits into his hand. They’d been fighting, and his instinct got the best of him- for Eren had grabbed the poor man and had bitten his leg clean off. The fifteen meter tall beast nearly crumbled at the marvelous tingling in his mouth. He’d made sure not to be seen, and he’d also made sure the recruit was alive…for now. Exiting his titan faster than he had in perhaps months, Eren was buzzing with a raw excitement that nobody understood. He himself didn’t either, nearly forgetting what got him going! 

   He had stashed the injured man away in an abandoned building, having used the heat of his titan to cauterize the wound instantly after biting. And now…Eren was on his way back towards that building. Having snuck out, praying nobody needed him in the dark of the night. His emerald eyes nearly sparkled as he spotted the passed out man leaning against a wall…not quite where Eren had left him,but it didn’t matter. A wicked smile spread across the titan shifter’s face as his gaze seemed devoid of all consciousness. A look you’d only get from a wild,perhaps even feral animal.

   Approaching with silent steps, Eren knelt by the recruit, pushing hair out of his sweaty face. Watching as he breathed,as he trembled…not yet aware of the fate that was to befall him. And what a cruel fate that would be- what God would allow its subjects to live through such events? Unless the one licking his lips at the thought of the other’s flesh in his mouth was in fact God..?

  Eren leaned in, taking a deep breath as he pressed his face against the man’s neck, feeling his pulse against his lips and nose. So slight, yet so enticing. Beginning to nip at his skin, just that was enough to cause a deep and rough shiver to run down Eren’s warm spine.

   The man whose heartbeat made the titan shifter tremble would soon begin to awaken, flinching away from Eren- or trying to. 

          ‘’Wh-what is going on-’’ the man stuttered,fear clear in his drowsy eyes.

          ‘’What’s your name?’’  Eren’s question was swift,coming before the other got to properly end his own.

          ‘’T-Tomas. What are you…doing?’’ 

          ‘’Tomas…hm, interesting name.’’ Eren muttered against the man’s skin,his hands reaching up to grip onto his scout jacket- removing it,and then ripping at his shirt. This caused Tomas to panic, the man trying to push away from the other now, eyes wide.

          ‘’Tsk- stay still.’’ Eren nearly growled as he grabbed a hold of the man’s shoulder, slamming it into the wall. He’d have to waste no time with the first bite…

   And he didn’t. Moving to the poor man’s shoulder that he had bared moments earlier,his rather sharp teeth would dig themselves into Tomas’ warm flesh, a gentle moan erupting from his busy lips as a loud,pained scream came from the other. The feeling of his comrade’s blood pooling in his mouth was enough to have Eren’s trembling get more severe, his hands gripping onto the injured man’s frame tighter now,dirty nails digging into poor Tomas until blood came out.

          ‘’Wh-What the hell are you doing?! Get off of m-me!!’’

   Eren did nothing more than taste the man…for his desperate words soon had the shifter pull back with an annoyed groan. Yet his eyes still looked empty…he looked so hostile to the injured recruit that helplessly trembled on the ground. The helpless Tomas…that slowly got led into a bloody kiss, one of Eren’s hands gripping onto his jaw so roughly he feared he might break it. And perhaps for a moment Tomas relaxed, perhaps he figured he was safe after all! But oh how wrong he was. In relaxing, he had allowed his lips to part, granting Eren passage, his burning hot tongue pressing against Tomas’. The sweetness of the now bleeding man’s saliva caused Eren to whimper, and before Tomas could perhaps feel the nature of the sound cause some reaction within his body,his tongue would be sucked in- into Eren’s mouth. Where it would remain, for the moment he got the chance, the titan shifter would bite into the tender flesh of the tongue…all the way through.

   Letting Tomas scream and cry in pain,Eren had pulled back, and hesitantly he would begin chewing- there was no going back. His eyes had been empty until now, yet the more he chewed, the hungrier the look in his eyes got. He couldn’t even care for Tomas’s cries and screams as he leant in again, the image of his crying and screaming father burned into his mind permanently,in the moment damaging him more than any of the others could.

    Tomas could feel his poor little heart racing like crazy as his own blood trickled down his throat and his face,and for whatever reason it seemed Eren could,too. Like a wild beast having cornered its prey, the boy smiled- no, smirked as he leant down,beginning to pull at Tomas’ pants. Having barely any strength to fight back because of the pain and the dizziness that began to set in,Tomas could only watch horrified as Eren now seemed to plan his next area of attack. The thigh it was-  and not long after the mental choice,he’d dig in. Only this time he would not just bite, no. The moment the beast was sure he had a proper grip on the struggling recruit’s flesh, he’d yank back,moving his head so ripping his thigh apart would be easier. The screams were bone chilling, good thing Eren’s own flesh was hot enough that that didn’t seem to affect him. The only shivers he’d get would be because of the immaculate taste- though not comparable to his darling father, no, he was something truly touched by the gods.

  Chewing, moaning and groaning were the only noises that filled the abandoned building once Tomas lost his ability to do anything but occasionally whimper, his hands too having failed him when he tried to grab onto Eren’s hair to stop him from splitting his stomach open- this resulted in Eren breaking both of his wrists. So he lay there, bleeding and twitching, praying death would come to him faster. Yet the longer his pain lasted,the more he wondered why he wasn’t dead already. It seemed…although Eren had grown more beastly with each bite he took, he was keeping Tomas alive on purpose. Yet that finally came to an end as the shifter ripped his fellow comrade’s heart out from his chest, feasting on it as if it were some prize. But he watched…before that he had watched as Tomas took his last pained,laboured breath. He offered him that respect,and then nothing more- for after he ate his heart, his lungs followed. Lungs that used to help the cheery man whistle and sing and laugh,now nothing more but a stringy mess of flesh and blood in the hands of his killer. Then came his eyeballs, for Eren did not want those to go to waste, didn’t want them to have the time to spoil. So he’d savour the gelly treat, humming against it, wondering. Would other colors taste different? And what about the skin? Sasha usually grew darker than most during the summer- hm. If anyone would understand his curiosity right now, it would certainly be her. 

   Eren left nothing to the rats and bugs that crawled around the old,dusty place, not even bones. Sucking the bone marrow out of the deceased recruit’s spine and then beginning to chew at his bones. Feeling his teeth crack and splinter even as he struggled, but not once had he thought about giving up. This was too fulfilling, too delicious, too…good. Whoever it was that he’d just eaten - he couldn’t remember. But they’d done a good job at making him realize something, no- understand something.

Just how thin the line between a shifter and his titan really is.

[lockwood-fic-recs]

No One Cares About the Nightwatch

by Nomolosk on ao3

Rating: T | Category: F/M | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy

Lucy Carlyle is a Listener, a failed agent, a runaway, and now works the nightwatch in London. One might think her life a failure from start to last- but Lucy has goals. She will get a grade four certificate, and reapply to all the best agencies, and her life will get immeasurably better.

However, firsthand experience of the treatment most people give the nightwatch, and a chance encounter with Lockwood and Co. have her reevaluating those goals... maybe she can do some good before she moves on...

[kimium]

Chapters: 4/7 Summary:

God AU. Multiple/Switching POVs.

"Every thing has to have an origin story. Even gods."

An AU where all the housewardens are gods and require an origin story. (In where the answer to "How to Become A God" is "Get Possessed".)

~

Kalim's Story.

"Kalim smiled warmly. The duty thrust upon him at an early age was fulfilling but it left him without people to call true friends. Jamil, who was the son of one of their high ranked workers had grown up alongside Kalim due to being the same age. Their friendship had made the lonely days and nights not allowed to always play with the other kids a little less painful.

“Jamil!” Kalim greeted brightly.

“Your parents were looking for you,” Jamil said with a narrowing of eyes. “It’s time for your lessons.”

“Oh…” Kalim glanced around the room and found a clock hanging on the wall. The hands indicated he was twenty minutes late. “Oops. I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

Kalim may be a bit lonely growing up but at least he has Jamil, his best friend at his side.

~

Hello everyone!!! Here is my chapter for Kalim! This one was one of the harder ones to plan but I’m so happy where I landed! It’s also the longest chapter so far... oops. Anyways, I hope you like it! Let me know!!!