#dungeons & traffic au

[silverorchideon]

"Tango of the Tek Variety, the Master of the Pyramid, a structure proudly standing in the Orange Oasis. He'll introduce you to the pyramid, promising treasures if you find it.

Though... Nowadays, after one of the levels of the pyramid sunk under the Orange Oasis's sweet desert landscape, the Master of the Pyramid has gone missing, his role filled with the Pyramid's Spoon Dealer, Skizzleman.

Where did Tango go, I wonder?"

"You're Destroying Yourself, Dreamer. You're Destroying All Of Us"

[fleetinggill]

Hey fellas. I just watched episode 19 of Dungeon Meshi and OH BOY AM I BEING VERY NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT. You know what else I’m not normal about? Life Series, and Hermitcraft as well.

I might finally get back into fic writing exclusively to write a Dungeon Meshi crossover. It won’t be a direct 1:1 thing; like, it’ll keep the same basic premise of “this member of our party died and we have to go back into the dungeon to resurrect them!” and it will retain the core plot elements. A lot of the same monsters would appear, especially ones that hold more weight to the plot, but some of the earlier ones will be replaced with Minecraft mobs to tie the universes together more and to force me to get more creative with the food descriptions.

However, the character dynamics will be different. The person who they’re trying to rescue may not be a sibling. The number of people in the other groups they encounter may be different and such. There will be no X = Laios and Y = Kabru and so on. The most direct parallels will be Falin, Senshi, and the Mad Mage; even they will not retain the same personality, dynamics with other characters, or backstories.

It will have the same world-building and a similar but not identical plot line. I think it would be way more interesting than a 1:1 direct translation into one specific season of either Hermitcraft or Life series.

More on this to come as I flesh it out more!! I might just do fics, but I may try to do art for it or ask someone else to do art for it…

I dunno. I guess, like, let me know if this sounds interesting? Or not lol. I’m gonna do it either way but I might invest more time in it if people actually like it

[verdantglow]

Welcome to the table the first player in my Dungeons & Traffic AU, Joel!

Dungeons & Traffic will feature the entirety of the Traffic SMP series cast playing several campaigns of Dungeons & Dragons at a rotating table. (This is so we aren’t limited to just a few players- didn’t want to leave anyone out- but it’s a bit more believable that there’s a party with like 18 people in it lol.) The campaigns are loosely based of the various seasons, though the AU will also include things that happen between players away from the table.

My goal is to have this AU consist mostly of drawings & comics, but first I’m gonna at least get a handful of character sheets done so I know what I’m working with.

Whose character sheet would you like to see next? Let me know in the comments or in my ask box!

[sameatsfunions]

I thought of a steddie AU-

Skate rental Eddie, passing out skates for hours.

“Here you go-“ Eddie says as he passes out the ice skates to a group of preteens.

His shift goes like that for another hour, and mainly it’s people returning skates because the free skate hours are nearly over, which Eddie is grateful for because that means so is his shift.

Finally, 20 minutes after his shift should’ve been over, he grabs his things and clocks out. The next event at the arena is private lessons. Usually they last an hour each, and Eddie usually leaves on time.

But not today, today he had so many returned skates to clean and put away he stayed over his usual time, and when he was leaving the sounds of arguing came from the ice box; It caught his attention and he looked down onto the ice while he was leaving and saw someone getting onto the ice.

He was in black leggings and a tight long sleeve shirt, his hair flew around in the wind from him effortlessly skating around warming up.

Eddie didn’t realize he was walking closer to the glass, being drawn by the perfect man he saw. Eddie was pretty inexperienced when it came to dating, he barely had friends let alone any girlfriends, there was that one girl he took on a date, but it ended with him alone, and a whole bucket of popcorn to eat. After that he just decided maybe it wasn’t for him anyways.

He sat down at the back of the arena, praying that he wouldn’t be seen, the stadium seating lowly lit, perfect place for him to observe.

Eddie watched as the guy skated around with his eyes closed, the only sound coming from anywhere was the scraping of the blades from his skates, cutting and carving through the ice with each turn and twist.

He looked off to someone Eddie couldn’t see, and watched him nod, slowing at the center of the rink. He took a deep breath and the music started. Eddie didn’t recognize the song, it wasn’t some fancy professional song, just one that anyone would listen to. Eddie didn’t know much about ice skating other than the sizing of shoes and the fact that ice was cold and it hurt when you fell on it.

He watched as the guy started to skate, with the most emotion he’s ever seen, just gliding around like he was born right there, on the ice.

It honestly took eddies breath away, his eyes latched onto the angelic creature who was effortlessly skating, and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He quickly grabbed it out and realized he completely forgot about the plans he made earlier that week with his few friends, and the fact that he was already late.

“Shit-“ he said quietly and stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible and slip out of the upper side door of the arena.

—

He made it to his dungeons and dragons session only 40 minutes late. Of course he blamed it on work and traffic and anything he could other than the pretty skating boy knowing that he would get torn apart by his friends for being a creep and watching a complete stranger skate.

The last thing he needed was a reminder that he wasn’t normal like most of the people his age.

—

It was two days later when Eddie saw the guy again. He definitely didn’t wait around the last two shifts to see if he was scheduled for the private lesson after the free skate, and he absolutely wasn’t upset when it wasn’t him who skated onto the ice.

He quickly sat in the same chair as he once again just admired the way the guy could glide across the ice and not even look at where he was going. He skated with his eyes closed half the time he was out there.

It went on like that for about a month. Eddie watching him skate mainly every couple of days. Sometimes the guy wouldn’t show up, and Eddie would hide his disappointment and leave frustrated. Eddie didn’t realize how much it made his day to see someone else have a passion like he did. Of course his wasn’t as beautiful and graceful as figure skating, he played guitar.

Just as Eddie got into a routine of hanging around to see the private sessions, and who was renting them out, he was asked to Zamboni the ice for a week or two while the guy who usually did that job was out on vacation. Eddie said he would, not because he wanted to, but because it was an excuse to stay longer and see who was coming out onto the ice.

He left his stuff in the little rental office, and quickly made his way down to the back area where they kept the Zamboni. They taught him the first week of his job, and originally he was going to do this and maintenance, but the job in rental opened up around the same time and he opted out for that.

He threw his hair up into a sloppy bun, and got to work, pulling it out onto the ice. He let the machine do its job as he zoned out just making sure to keep it from running into things. The whole process took about 5 minutes and he was so focused on pulling it back into the area it was kept in the arena - he didn’t notice the guy had come in and started to put on his skates.

Eddie was walking back to grab his stuff when he got stopped in his tracks by someone calling out a kinda hostile “hey!”

Eddie looked around and saw him, down by the glass box, staring up at him. He stood there like a deer in headlights, thoughts pouring through his head.

Did I not Zamboni right?

Does he think I did a bad job-

The guy waved at him, telling him to come over with one simple hand gesture- so Eddie did. He walked down the steps and before he knew it, he was standing there just on the other side of the glass. “Uh… hey?” Eddie said, quickly looking at the ice to make sure it was smooth and a decent job.

“Why do you watch me when I skate?” The guy asked.

Oh shit- Eddie thought, his eyes snapping back to the guy, which now that he was closer noticed so many more details that made him somehow even more perfect.

He had a few small moles on his left cheek, one on his neck. His lips were pouty, cheeks puffy and red from the cold already, and his hair- his hair was so thick and this honey brown, just like his eyes.

“I uh- I -“ Eddie stuttered. “I just like to watch you skate-“ he said. It was so awkward he felt himself cringe deep inside. “I work here.” Eddie said again, trying to help his case- realizing quickly it absolutely did not help him at all.

“Okay…” the guy said his eyes flicking around, “it’s kinda creepy…” he followed his last statement. “Can I give you a tip?” He said, looking up at Steve as he Bent down to check and make sure his skates were tight and ready to go.

“Uh, yeah-“ Eddie knew he didn’t Zamboni right-

“Yeah of course, it’s also like the first time- I’ve done that- Zamboni the ice-“

“At least introduce yourself, you know- before you stalk someone.” The guy said, looking up at him with knowing eyes.

Oh he meant- oh shit-

“Right yeah- yeah of course-“

Eddie stared at the guy whose eyes waited for more of an answer. “Eddie.”

He said, giving the guy a sheepish smile, holding out a hand.

The guy stood up, and shook his hand finally telling him his name. “Steve.” He skated backwards away from Eddie, nodding slightly, and calling out “the ice is nice… better than the other guy who does it.” A smile peaking up on his face for the first time since the interaction. “You should take a seat, gonna be here for an hour.” Steve called out to him as the blades on his skates cut through the ice, the sound echoing around the arena.

So Eddie did just that, he sat down and he watched Steve skate.

[artifeast]

Cursed Dungeon Meshi AU, with a vague attempt at the manga's style. They are 17 inches shorter than their canon heights. Maintained the height differences though!

Telesphore is an elf of course, Colette is a half-foot/tallman, and Eisen is a gnome. WAY too many miscellaneous thoughts about this AU under the cut. There miight be worldbuilding spoilers if you haven't read the DunMesh manga and bonus material

Telesphore is an elf because, obviously

Eisen's a gnome because that gave me a decent height difference with Telesphore while still giving him strong magic capabilities. He might have a bit of dwarf in him, though

Colette's mother was a half-foot, and her father is a tall-man with a half-foot grandparent. Colette is still taller than the average considering her heritage (I did MATH about this. and jsyk the numbers worked beautifully). I wanted her to not be particularly innately magical, and also this would give her an appropriate height in comparison to Telesphore and Eisen. Like, the AU is already gonna be cursed with how Telsie has to get shrunken, but it'd be even worse if Colette was a tallman and 8 inches taller than him LMAO

Colette still has the Kingmaker in this AU, though I forgot to draw it. In this, it's an ancient elven magical artifact.

Colette's still 25, while Telesphore and Eisen are the same age (190). I made an age comparison chart for the Dungeon Meshi races a while back, taking into account both age of maturity and life expectancy, and according to it, 190 makes Telesphore the equivalent of about 29 and Eisen the equivalent of about 47.5, which is close enough. This AU loses the dynamic of Telesphore being alive for hundreds of years longer than Eisen, and in fact makes Eisen the older one of the two (aging-wise) from the very start, but eh, I think it still works. There's still lifespan angst since Eisen only has 50 years before he hits the average life expectancy for gnomes, while Telesphore has another 210 years. Also I think them remaining the same age, as opposed to canon, but still aging differently is kinda fun.

The Kingdom of Valor is somewhere in the middle of the Eastern Continent, landlocked like in canon. The population is primarily half-foots, but there are also a good deal of gnomes and dwarves, as expected from the region. More interestingly, there is a community of elves.

Within Valor is the Seltsamwald, a bizarre and massive surface-level dungeon in the form of a dangerous forest that stretches for miles, held in check by incredibly powerful ancient magic forming a barrier around it. The elves are investigating it and maintaining it. There is no immortality spell in the Seltsamwald. The lord of the dungeon has not been found, but doesn't appear to be particularly active; in fact, despite being clearly contained and rather active in terms of monsters, it retains many properties of a natural dungeon. Some have theorized that it actually is a natural dungeon that's spread too far, perhaps cultivated by a mage in ages past, that was then sealed closed when it grew too powerful. However, it's not sealed entirely shut, and is kept alive mostly by the elves investigating it. There is very limited non-elf foot traffic, with it mostly being criminals that sneak into its maze-like forest. The Seltsamwald has been kept stable like this for hundreds of years. More recently, a group of elves have formed a small town within the dungeon as a sort of research post, named Sorbus.

Also within Valor are at least two magic schools, located there due to the plentiful mana from the Seltsamwald. One is for gnomish magic, and one is for elven magic.

The Desrosiers were half-foots. Ariadne is a tallman that's managed to prolong her life using ancient magic. (Though even still, in this AU she probably murdered Eisen's parents when he was the equivalent of like... 37, rather than 18)

I've spent a LOT of time thinking about it and I've decided not to try to translate the revolution and the closed Kehrseite portal situation into this AU. It's much easier to say Telesphore not being able to go home is just… a personal issue, because he's a wanted criminal on the Northern Central Continent, LOL. And the revolution's just a huge mess... I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I excluded the Good Neighbors/elves from the proceedings, though. These fantasy medieval ages are allowed a little populist revolution

[shepscapades]

YAY Week 1 prompts in-detail are here! The Hermitcraft Character Design Event arrives! Feel free to go wild with these prompts as inspiration, or use the above suggestions to help form ideas for creating character designs, drawing, writing, scene-making, anything you like!

1.] Non-Life-Series Hermit on their Red Life: death-game-ify your blorbo of choice! Imagine your character as though they were taking place in one of the Traffic SMP Life Series, and how they may look or have ended up on their Red Life. You could go for one series specifically, or just go for the vibes!

2.] As a D&D Class: Throw your blorbo into RPG Dungeons & Dragons— is it that your mcyt character has been dropped into the world of D&D? Is it an AU? Is it D&D mechanics and features in the world of Minecraft? Up to you!

Reminders: Anyone is welcome to participate, in whatever way and however much! Feel free to apply these prompts to any mcyt blorbo of your choosing! Feel free to use the tag #ShepsHermitDesign23 and/or @me in your posts! I look forward to seeing what everyone creates!

[artaxlivs]

My Masterlist -

Featuring mostly Steddie, Winterhawk & now - Sterek 💜

Steddie (Stranger Things):

HomeSteddie Farms: Rated T - Steve and Eddie had a farm and on this farm were a bunch of critters with awesome names. Plus art by Doomcheese!

End of the Beginning: Rated T - Eddie gets a do over and finds himself in the Upsidedown with Will. Can they save everyone this time? Art by @alduade-art

Do You Hear What I Hear?: Rated T - Steve brings home a mogwai, Eddie's never been good with rules

Nobody's Baby: Rated E - Steddie Dirty Dancing AU Steve & Robin best friends, Eddie & Chrissy best friends, 80s movie campiness, light BDSM, traffic light system for dancing and sex. With art by @lexplexdraws

Like a Mythical Virgin: Rated M - Eddie finds out the hard way that feral unicorns don't chase virgins for nice reasons

Let Me Be Your Man (i want to hold your hand): Rated E - Mike gets help from Steve with making a mixtape for Will. Eddie learns that there's an art to mixtapes. mike/steve bonding, laughter, fluff, little pining, smut (You can find the podfic of this one here. Read by the amazing RattleandHum (@thirdeye1234))

Destroy the Silence (Drummer Steve) - Rated E - Steve joins the band and Eddie discovers he has a thing for competent drummers, healthy bdsm communication, laughter, fluff & smut. Art by @carcrash429 (You can find the podfic of this one here. Read by the fabulous @rufusbear)

Off the Shelf - Rated E - Stripper Steve give Eddie a private show. Eddie discovers a new kink. Modern AU, basically porn with a smidge of plot.

Screw Todd, Steve's Her (His) Daddy Now - Rated E - Steve keeps calling himself Daddy "unintentionally" and Eddie's about to lose it, light bdsm, non verbal communication, daddy kink (or is it?)

The Second Worst Trip to Mordor Ever Taken - Rated T - Steve takes the boys & Eddie to Indy to a nerd store and flirts his way into trouble, Steddie, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings

Even Flowers Have Their Dangers (Series: No One Is Alone)- Rated E - What if the tunnels turned Steve & the kids into shapeshifting wolves? S4 rewrite and my own write up of S5 but with half the party as shapeshifters, smut, graphic imagery, battle scenes

There’s Something Wrong With Steve (WIP ch2/4) - Rated M - I’m not gonna tell you, Steddie, Suspense thriller, creep factor 6/10 and climbing

Let the Music Play -Series - Rated T - The music that plays every time Steve gets Vecna’d, Stobin besties, Steddie pre relationship, hurt/comfort

An Accidental Flogging - Rated E - Steve has questions about Eddie’s kinks, Eddie would like to have answers but he’s actually a virgin, friends to lovers, Top Steve, accidental kink discovery, laughter, fluff, & smut

Drabbles that aren't full fics: Happy Summer, Steve's Thighs, i was afraid to follow, Personal Space, can you read the letter for me (Part two), Pillow Talk, Steddie First Kiss Challenge, Constellations, Artax is a New Horse, To Do List

Art made by amazing artists that goes with something I wrote (eek!): Crabs, Drummer Steve, Dirty Dancing, Homesteddie

Clint Barton Centric (Marvel):

True Colors Series (8 Parts/complete) - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: The Snap didn’t dust half the universe, it turned them into soulmates who can only see colors when they find each other, Clint & Bucky don’t mean to find each other. Almost strangers to soulmates, smut, background Steve/Natasha and others

The Case of the Missing Purple Sweatshirts - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: Someone is stealing Clint’s sweatshirts…my excuse to let Clint talk about Scooby Doo

Through the Looking Glass - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Instead of talking, they miscommunicate themselves into being sex dungeon fuck buddies, BDSM Dungeon fic, miscommunications, learning through bad negotiations, so very much smut, background Steve/Darcy, past Clint/She Who Must Not Be Named

Something to Tweet About - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: Someone tweets a series of photos of Clint & Bucky hanging out and mutually pining, they deal with it by avoiding it obviously. friends to lovers, social media ship to lovers

A Life Well Lived - Rated T - Clint/Bucky: just a glance at Clint’s last day

Make it Permanent - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Secret dating, hickeys and tattoos and a little bit of healthy possessiveness

And the Stockings Were Hung - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Christmas Exchange fic, Bucky's first Christmas at the tower, fluff and smut

Porn & Prose - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: some backstage smut between Mr Bingley (Clint) and Mr Darcy (Bucky)

Bucky, Lemme Smash - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: I just wanted to turn Clint purple and use this line from that meme, smut

Both, Both is Good - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Bucky avoids Clint until he realizes Clint has been avoiding him, fuck buddies to lovers, smut & miscommunication

The Happiest Place on Earth - Rated E - Clint/Bucky: Bucky plays Hawkeye in Disneyland because the actor who plays him is short and he’s real pissed that some guy named Clint is tall enough to play the Winter Soldier, enemies to lovers, Clint in eyeliner, smut

Three to Tango - Rated E - Clint/Bucky/Natasha: James & Natasha teach Clint’s dance class, then they invite him for private lessons. Healthy communication, smut and Clint’s self degradation

A Bird By Any Other Name (Series) - Rated E - Clint/Steve: Clint as the Winter Soldier thru WW2 & the present, hurt/comfort, mental struggles, smut

Body Count - Rated E - Clint/Steve: tumblr prompt hitman meets a sex worker, just so much smut

Friends Don’t Let Friends Wait Too Long - Rated T - Clint/Steve: Steve is too nervous to ask Clint out, Bucky’s gonna help in an helpful way. Misunderstanding, fluff, laughter, Natasha being a troll

Marvel/DC Crossovers:

Draw & Release (2 part series) - Rated E - Clint Barton/Jason Todd: Clint gets a tattoo & finds a new boyfriend/Dom

Sterek (Teen Wolf):

UNLESS - Rated T - A Fern Gullyish AU where Stiles is a fairy, Derek is a 3 inch tall werewolf and Kate is even more toxic than usual, bookbinding by @eviscer-8

Take a Glorious Bite Out of the Whole World - Rated E - Stiles has known for ten years that Derek is his soulmate, Derek didn't even know Stiles existed. Soulmates, happy ending, alive Hale family. With art by @angeleyz4ever

Lie On My Front - Rated E - Derek & Stiles find themselves trapped inside a crate in a compromising position. Porn with a teensy bit of plot

Somewhere Under the Rainbow - Rated T - Wild geese can't be bothered to catch sidekicks. Fluff, magic, leprechauns, banter

[waltwhitmansbeard]

I don't know if you're taking just random prompts right now but if you are... may I request GWTF vaxleth when keyleth finally gets pregnant?🥺

this is the au!

The house is empty. She makes sure of it, invents some dire need from the grocery store to get Vax out of the house. She can't take Simon's staring eyes, curious and always a bit too knowledgeable, so she locks herself in the bedroom, sits on the foot of the bed, and waits.

Her leg jiggles. Up and down. Up and down. It vibrates the bed, sets the headboard knocking into the wall. The sound of it almost makes her laugh, if laughter were a thing she were capable of right now. Simon scratches at the door, mewing pitifully, as if he were trapped in a torture dungeon and not the hallway. She tells herself she's not going to watch the clock, the fancy one Vax got her for her birthday that uses artificial sunlight to wake her up gradually, and yet her eyes dart to it every fifteen seconds, over and over and over. Her leg jiggles.

The phone she left on her dresser buzzes, and the leg stops. She stands mechanically, animated by some force outside of herself. She walks into the bathroom. Oh, hope is such a treacherous beast, clawing and cooing and sharp and soft, all at the same time. She left the test waiting just on the sink. Until she looks, it could say anything. Until she looks, she cannot be disappointed, cannot be rent apart by hope's talons, which have latched into her ribs and are clinging on for dear life. Until she looks, she will not have to see the falling of Vax's face when she breaks his heart again.

She looks.

.

Vax won't admit that they've moved to the suburbs, because they haven't. They're on the edge of the city now, the liminal space between urban and suburban, but just because they have a postage stamp of a backyard and two floors that are both theirs doesn't mean he's not still a city boy, and it doesn't mean he doesn't find the traffic out here absolutely enraging.

So he's grumpy when he comes home with Keyleth's oat milk and a pint of gelato because it was on sale, which should not have taken forty-five minutes, for fuck's sake. He shoves open the door, Grow with the Flow tote bag on one arm, and he's nearly sent back toppling down the steps when he's attacked by flailing arms and a curtain of red hair.

"Kiki!" He barely catches her, the bag of groceries flying painfully into his knee as he does. "What the—are you crying?"

And she is, but she's also talking, a thousand words a minute, tripping over her tongue as she tries to tell him something. He pries her off of him as best he can so he can get a good look at her face. "Keyleth, what's wrong?"

She takes a deep, shuddering breath and falls silent. She presses something into his hand, and when he looks down, there's a pregnancy test, one of the ones he's seen all too many of these past few months.

Oh. OH!

The bag is abandoned in the foyer as he throws his arms around her, now babbling and crying himself. They're going to be parents. He kisses her, her lips, her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, his miracle wife, his magic woman, already so good at growing and cultivating and fostering life, now with a new seedling for them to tend to together. He thumbs away her tears, ignoring his own entirely, and says in a laugh that borders on manic, "I don't think I've ever been happier than I am right now."

She's glowing like the sun, so radiant he thinks she might blind him. "I can't believe it's real."

"I can." And he can. As happy as he is, he's always known that this would happen. Call it destiny or fate or a will so strong he would defy the gods themselves—he's never doubted for a second that they would get to here. He kisses her again, stomach flipping as she melts against him, grinning against his lips. They're going to have a family. He feels like he could grow wings and fly, shoot up into the clouds and float back down to earth, to her plants in the soil and his knives in the drawer and their little second bedroom, where someday, new hands will crawl and new lungs will shriek and a new life will sprout up, vibrant and reaching toward the sun.

[mildlylesbian]

Intro Post

Current Theme: Minecraft/Pink & Purple Main Fandoms: Hermitcraft, Traffic Series, RTGame DNI: Terfs, pro-lifers, transphobes, homophobes, trolls Do Interact: MCYT fandom, hermitshippers, writers, oc makers, friends Please tag me in posts you think I'll like and feel free to ramble in my ask box!

Basic Info

+ a bit of history ig

Hello! I'm Nesquik, but I also go by Nes, Azelea, Az, Mon, and Anura. I'm fine with any nicknames, am genderqueer, and go by She/They/He pronouns. I cannot guarantee my blog to be PG 13, so minors interact at your own risk!

I've been writing original works since I was 11 and started writing fanfic in November of 2022. A master post of all my finished, ongoing, and planned fics/original pieces can be found here!

Aside from writing I also play and DM Dungeons & Dragons, love board games, hanging out with friends, cooking, listening to music, and creating shitposts that no one but me finds funny.

My Tags

#nes talks - Any original post by me

#nes rambles - lil silly goofy rambles about headcannons and youtubers and things I love

#nes rants - Posts featuring me yelling into the void about stuff that makes me mad for petty reasons

#nes vents - Posts featuring me yelling into the void about stressful stuff

#favs - My favourite posts

#moots hijinks - Posts about/responding to mutuals

#my writing - Writing by me

#asks! - Any ask answered by me

#ask game! - Game posts where you send me an ask and I answer it

#tag game! - game posts I was tagged in

#picrew chain - picrew chains I started or took part in

#anurapoda - posts from my writing account @anurapoda

#bread poll saga - every post that is related to that one bread poll I made that got like 20k votes

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#reblogs - a post I've reblogged and have added to either via the post or tags

#of songbirds and watchers - My Jimmy and Grain centric Hermitcraft AU

Credit

[shadowspellchecker]

Hold my beer...

1. 1. Anyone would be a better teacher

#Crossover #Open-fandom #Harry_Potter

2. 1. Lost in Space AU

#Fusion #Open-fandom #Lost_In_Space

3. 2. Main Character is raised Imperial 

#Canon_Divergence #Fusion #Fandom_Specific #Star_Wars

7. 6. North and South AU

8. 7. Timer AU

#True_AU #Open_fandom

9. 8. Roman Empire AU

10. 9. Male lead is Cohortes Urbanae 

11. 10. The obligatory Ghosts (USA) AU.

12. 11. They are your coworkers

Write a scenario where they work wherever it is that You, IRL, work. What do they do? Do any of them like the job? Who do you most get along with?

13. 12. New in Town AU

X is an ambitious upcoming corporate executive coming to shut down a factory. Y is the union representative. Featuring Z as Blanche Gunderson.

14. 13. New in Town AU… in SPACE!

15. 14. Hospital Procedural 

16. 15. Civil War AU

16b. Gone with the Wind-inspired AU 

17. 16. Civil War Hospital AU

Because Mercy Street is Awesome

18. 17. Spanish American War AU

19. 18. Western

20. 19. Dragons AU

21. 20. Pern AU

22. 21. American revolution 

23. 22. Braveheart AU

25. 24. Naruto AU

26. 25. Deathworlders AU

28. 27. Zealot AU

29. 28. Atlantis the Lost Empire AU

30. 29. NCIS AU

31. 29. DnD AU

33. 31. The one where they're the Tabletop RPG players and canon is an RPG

34. 32. Raiders of the Lost Ark AU

36. 33. Raiders of the Lost Art AU (not a duplicate)

42. 39. Napolitano Vampire AU

Watch Commissario Ricciardi and you'll understand where this idea is from. Really, it's all about the mood. 

43. 40. Moody Victorian Crime Solving Drama AU

See above, but set in Victorian or early Edwardian England. You might even have a variant of Miss Scarlet and the Duke. 

44. 41. Epistolary Victorian AU

Any excuse for Flower language 

45. 42. Green grocer AU

46. 43. Weed distributors AU 

…your One Stop Shop for legal Marijuana!

47. 44. Beauty and the Beast AU. 

48. 45. The Lawn Ornament AU.

Like Toy Story but with lawn ornaments. 

Featuring Benny the Gnome, Cleo the Flamingo, Shaibel as one of those ceramic tree faces… 

49. 46. The Honest Star Wars AU: TQG in Star Wars

50. Covid AU

Main Characters. Covid lock down. Go.

51. Corvid AU

They might be crows. They might be ornithologists. If you want to get adventurous, they might be both. If you're really adventurous (or out for heartbreak), there's one of each.

52. 49. Redwall AU

53. 50. Wizard of Oz remixes

54. 51. Manifest / Twilight Zone Odyssey of Flight 33 AU

They're all passengers on this flight. What happens next is up to you.

55. 52. Wildcats AU

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Film/WildCats1986

This, but Beth is the main character and Shaibel was the one raising her. 

57. 54. The Cleanup Crew

Set in the universe of Indiana Jones. After Adventure Archaeologists like Indiana and Aphra go busting through ancient secrets and forbidden temples, your main characters are the team that goes in to smooth things over with the local governments, silence strategically unsafe witnesses, set up cover stories, replace death traps and transport eldritch objects into high security. While living in hope that maybe, just maybe, the paperwork will be finished sometime this century. 

58. 55. Animal shelter AU

59. 56. Main Character is in Make Way For Ducklings

Reasoning:

Benny Watts is in New York

Make Way for Ducklings is in New York

New York traffic jam caused by duckling train

Benny reacting to being stuck in said traffic jam

Why is he upset 

Traffic jam from ducks keeping him from a chess game

Ducks block Benny from chess game

Ducks land on Benny's chess game in Central Park 

Benny sues duck 

Chess Federation sues Ducks

Chess Federation v. Duck et al, 1970. 

59b. 56b. Your main character places a frivolous lawsuit.

60. 57. ATLA AU

Beth Harmon as Azula. Azula as Beth Harmon

63. 59. Pokemon Red AU

64. 60. Or a more general Pokémon AU

65. 61. Pokemon Mystery Dungeon AU. Pick your version. 

66. 62. Kanto AU, but they're all pokemon. 

67. 63. The Rookie (2002) AU (skip, too similar)

68. 64. Renaissance AU

69. 65. Edwardian AU

70. 66. Edwardian silverware AU

The characters are sentient silverware commenting on the behaviors of the people eating the meal. That's it. That's the fic. 

71. 67. Victorian-style Toy Story AU

72. 68. Antiques Roadshow AU

Pick two media. The mains for one are hosts and antiques experts on the show; the other are the guests. Who gets what specialty? Who brings in what? How do they react?

73. 69. Things [your fandom main characters] are no longer allowed to do

74. 70. House AU. 

75. 71. The Death Star and the Executor are both sentient. And the Executor is either Territorial or Jealous.

76. 72. Darth Vader's Suit

...has a mind of it's own

77. 73. Your favorite Main Characters decide to passive-aggressively install a gazebo on someone's lawn. 

78. 74. The Sannin in Star Wars

79. 75. Group of Main Characters vs Paperwork

80. 76. Vienna Blood AU

81. 77. And then there were none AU

82. 78. In a kinder universe…

The mains never meet because they live very different lives

83. But say in a slightly less kind universe…

But say in a slightly less kind universe, still miles kinder than Canon. 

84. Period Piece Fight Club

Your MCs all come from different historical settings. They are kidnapped by… something and forced to duke it out in a tournament or round-robin to decide which setting they get to be dropped off. Not all of them are even fighters! From whence does each character come, what was their occupation, how do they fight, are they even able to fight given their circumstances at the time of kidnap (i.e. are they injured, do they have ammo, are they sworn never to touch a blade?), who wins. Fill in blanks in the premise: can the characters communicate, is it to the death, can they communicate with each other (i.e. translator microbes), is there healing, can they communicate with each other off the field and/or without being observed, what are the tournament runners motivations and what are the rules?

86. Wacky marriage proposal

87. Galactic food blog AU (for space operas)

88. Ghosts + Downton Abbey + 3rd fandom

Your MCs are in a modern AU and staying at Downton Abbey, which has been refurbished as a B&B. One of your characters sees ghosts. Downton has a lot of them. 

Bonus corollary: if your MCs are from Downton Abbey how do they handle meeting themselves?

91. Crossdresser Zorro remix.

92. Conventional Zorro remix

93. "Where is New Jersey?!" 1776 crossover 

94. Name your time Lord. 

95. Amnesia au

96. Warring states au

97. Warrior cats au

Pictures would be great. 

I know I got my statistical human to cat coat color correspondence chart somewhere…

98. Labyrinth AU

99. Jack Ryan but with your mains instead of Jack. 

100. They are superheroes

101. You Got Mail remix

102. Middle Ages au

103. The mains recognize each other from their dreams 

104. Soulmate geese transformation 

105. Your mains are the leads in Mythbusters-style TV show 

106. Poker AU

107. Turn left at Kirk's Rock…

Even if they are in Star Wars

109. Designated Survivor au

110. Pirates and privateers

111. Jurassic park au

112. Jurassic Parking; all your mains use the same car park. It's dinosaur themed. 

Bonus: "And then someone just shows up and buries a dead king under it."

113. Main Character is Cursed by angry old woman. Any time he swears, he is mobbed by seagulls. 

116. A heavily-armored X lands on Palpatine. Yes, you know which fic I'm cribbing here. Yes, this is the plot. Everything else is just icing.

117. A clear and meaningful assessment of your main character group's alcohol tolerances.

118. Young Tom Riddle is raised by Main

119. Main Character is a fairy-doctor

121. /Anyone/ showing up in The Martian 

122. Police Academy AU 

As inspired by Lucillia

123. My Little Pony Fusion

124. Zombie apocalypse strikes your canonverse

125. Main Character, olympian runner

126 - Dreamingverse

Everyone had a second set of false memories that grow with them as they age. We call this one's Dreaming. These false memories depict another life, superficially similar to one's own circumstances or even resemblant of historical figures – but they are false indeed, in truth quite unreliable in history, personages, and even natural laws (please don't test this; even now children regularly die trying to fly if left unsupervised before becoming acquainted with the Waking). It would be an untruth to equate the dream-self to the self; they can be quite different people. Similarity can be quite random. Often people who strongly affect each other may find their Dreamings overlap, even recognizing each other from drawings if one is of an artistic bent. We call this sharing a Dreaming. 

Key characters are born with the memories of other lives and another world. What do they do with them?

Rule:

Memories they have access to correspond with equivalent physical age.

129. House Hunters AU

130. How to Winnebago without even trying.

[shadowfloofster]

My monkie kid fixation is crumbling so I'm clinging to it for dear life while falling onto my Pokémon mystery dungeon safety net

So PMD Monkie kid au

First is MK (Grookey) Mei (Axew) and Red son (Bipedal Torracat)

Team Traffic light

They are part of Flower fruit guild (Run by Monkey king)

The team was founded by MK and Mei as team dragon noodles

Red son was originally part of the demon bull guild until deciding to transfer to Flower fruit guild, joining team Dragon noodles, now team traffic light

MK is an orphaned shiny grookey who'd been best friends with Mei for years, both wanting to join a guild since they were young

As soon as Mei and MK were old enough they tried to join any guild in the area, but were unable to

Got accepted into Flower fruit guild after helping Pigsy, Sandy and Tang when they ran low on supplies in a powerful dungeon (though the pair had followed them into the dungeon in the first place)

Monkey king wants MK to take over the guild when he retires

Mei is a distant descendant of Reshiram

As they were in rival guilds, Red son and team Dragon noodles usually ran into eachother trying to complete missions

After MK and Mei helped Red son escape a dangerous dungeon, he decided to join them

They have accessories with one of the others corresponding colours (MK has a red bandana, Mei has an amber bandana and Red son has a green arm band)

Might add more to it whenever I can

[verdantglow]

Okay so @plumadot’s posting about her D&D Traffic AU has made me remember how much I love my Dungeons & Traffic AU & I Must Talk About It Now.

Basically all the characters are in a modern setting, playing a rotating cast D&D game DMed by The Watchers. (I never really decided how that works. Plan was for everything in out of game space be completely mundane except for the floating purple eye behind the DM screen lol.)

But yeah! So I picked classes & heritages that the characters would pick themselves based on play styles & preferences. &, uh, here they are!

Bdubs: Firbolg, Light Domain Cleric of Helios

Of course he’s a light cleric. Of course his god is literally the god of the Sun. This man does not fuck with the night & darkness At All. (Also he wanted to be tall lol.)

BigB: (???), (???)

Okay, gonna be honest, BigB is the last one I need to make decisions for ‘cause I feel I have too many knowledge gaps about him to figure this out. Was thinking Paladin maybe??? But I will totes take input, please help me here. Only restrictions: I’d prefer if he doesn’t double up on heritage or subclass with anyone.

Cleo: Reborn, Circle of Wildfire Druid

Cleo’s gotta be a zombie, so Reborn is perfect. & who can deny Cleo the opportunity to have a skill set based entirely around setting shit on fire?

Etho: Shadar-Kai, Way of the Shadow Monk

He’s a ninja lol. Also in this AU I was thinking he & Gem would be siblings, so having him play an emotionally flat dark elf played nicely with what Gem goes with. Which…

Gem: Eladrin, Eldritch Knight Fighter

Gem had to be a fighter, that girl is a fighter through & through, but she’s definitely not playing a boring character. Eldritch Knight adds some magical flavour that goes well with her being an Eladrin. & she had to be an elf of some kind; I think she’d like the versatility & expressiveness of Eladrin.

Grian: Changeling, Pact of the Tome Warlock of the Archfey

Okay, I know this is probs controversial but hear me out. 1) Grian being a Warlock I think is just very in character. 2) Pact of the Tome lets him cast catrips from other classes & you unknowingly he’d get a kick outta that mechanic. 3) His patron is a homebrewed version of The Traveler, half way between 5e canon & Critical Role canon. Trickster vibes are real. 4) This dude has had so many skins. Changeling energy. (Also I just love changelings & Grian made the most sense to me.)

Impulse: Hill Dwarf, Forge Domain Cleric of Tharmekhûl

Another controversial one, but I’m not a fan of demon/tiefling/horned Impulse. & he legit has been a dwarf before. Hill dwarf because they get a Wisdom buff & that makes sense for Impulse. Cleric of Tharmekhûl because forge/light vibes & also he’s the god of smiths & that feels… like something Impulse would choose. (Impulse’s character is also min-max’d to hell. This man is going to win at D&D.)

Jimmy: Human, Oath of Glory Paladin of Tyr

Jimmy got overwhelmed by all the heritages & just went human for simplicity. He takes regular human rather than variant because he doesn’t want to learn all the feats & getting +1 to all stats is pretty good, right? Oath of Glory Paladin of Tyr because he really, really plays into being Lawful Good, & being The Law of the party.

Joel: Half-orc, Path of the Berserker Barbarian

Half-orc for being the closest I could get to an ogre. Path of the Berserker because he’s all about The Rage.

Lizzie: High Elf, School of Enchantment Wizard

Idk Lizzie just has big Wizard vibes to me, but like. Not the best wizard. Like she’s powerful, but rolls shit. She couldn’t get anyone to sleep in the Secret Life campaign because her DC is kinda low & everyone kept making their saves. (Except Joel. He failed his save on purpose. <3) High Elf for Queen Lizzie.

Martyn: Tiefling, Swashbuckler Fighter

Another natural fighter choice imo, but Swashbuckler for The Performance. Tiefling because he’s a bit impish & also so he can have Thaumaturgy to constantly scare everyone with monster/mob noises.

Mumbo: Rock Gnome, School of Evocation Wizard

I need to Mumbo to be a glass canon. School of Evocation Wizard does that so well. He can blow shit up so good, but he takes one hit & he’s out. Rock gnome because he just wanted to be a little guy & so he can be a Tinker.

Pearl: Wood Elf, Beastmaster Ranger

Beastmaster Ranger so she can have Tilly as an animal companion. Also more combat than magic focused, ‘cause that feels right? Elf because that’s her vibe, wood elf because it made sense for her build.

Ren: Werewolf Shifter (Doglike), Bannerette Fighter

Ren really wanted to be a fighter, but he put all his points in charisma RIP. So yeah, he’s the fighter class that does the least actual fighting lol. Doglike werewolf because of course.

Scar: Half-elf, Wild Magic Sorcerer/School of Eloquence Bard multiclass

His first few levels were in sorcerer, to reflect his absolutely bonkers all or nothing luck. School of Eloquence because he’s the type to talk his way out of most any situation he can. Also: Scar is 100% a charisma caster. (He still uses a longbow, don’t worry; he gets proficiency with it from being a half-elf.)

Scott: Fairy, Lunar Sorceror

I have changed my mind the most about Scott. Landed on Fairy, because the Vibes. Sorcerer because I felt he’d have innate magic, Lunar because it gives him access to a wide variety of spells that make sense for him. (Like Shield. He uses Shield all the time. Can’t hit this man, no sir.)

Skizz: Protector Aassimar, Path of the Ancestral Guardians Barbarian

He attac, he protec. & most importantly, he place high value on bonds between folks. So giving him Ancestral Guardians just… yeah.

Tango: Fire Genasi, Battlesmith Artificer

I don’t think I need to explain this much. His Steel Defender is an Iron Golem.

[sabraeal]

Provocateur, Prologue

[Read on AO3]

Written for @krispy-kream in honor of her birthday. Many years ago, back when I first joined fandom, I came up with the idea for an Obi Works For Izana AU, and both Sharon and I ended up writing small pieces of a much larger whole. And now FINALLY...I’m actually writing the very beginning 🤣

When it comes down to it, in terms of area and amenities, the royal dungeons has some of his last few flats beats.

There’s light, for one. He’s never liked basement apartments-- he’d take a stifling attic room over a place with only one exit any day-- but the windows here are high up on the wall, enough that he can watch the sun paint his cell floor as the hours pass. They’re ground level, at least by the foot traffic outside of ‘em, and with how loud these guards gossip, he’ll know whose girlfriends are pregnant and who’s nursing a nasty boil by shift change. Just like sitting in a tavern for a few hours, only with less ale.

There’s a cot too, straw-stuffed and a little too soft, with a blanket that doesn’t even itch. Seems like it might be warm too, for when the nights get cold. Not that he has an intention of testing out that particular hunch.

The guard down the hall is decent in the way authority figures never are; when he calls out to ask where his piss bucket is, the man-- boy? It’s hard to tell beneath those helmets-- ushers him down a hall to a water closet, and when he pops out, reminds him to take care to wash his hands. He’s prompt about mealtime too; when supper comes, the man says to expect three square and leaves him with with a dinner that would put most publicans to shame.

All in all, this isn’t the worst trouble he’s gotten himself into. Worlds better than that stint he’d had in Eurikenna’s gaol. Or that night in Port City.

Still, he’s got no plans to linger. No point in sticking around for a punishment when he's got no interest in redemption. But he’s got a prince to wait for.

Oh, His Highness might say he’s above getting his hands dirty, might look down that noble nose at a man like him who makes his living in trade, but he’d seen his look. Not the first, when his little mistress was watching, all puffed cheeks and disapproving brow, but the second, that glance over his shoulder as the Big Man frogmarched a dirty rat down into the dungeons.

That one was a man who had found the right tool for the job. Hands don’t stay clean without gloves to cover them, especially if they mean to hold a mistress who collects trouble like some ladies collect hairpins. If he wants to keep his side piece quiet, it’s only a matter of time before he’ll have to make a statement. And nothing says don’t touch what’s mine like a few accidents. All he has to do is wait out a royal conscience.

The light fades as he waits, just the last stretch of dusky light yawning on the sill. It’s almost time for all good little princes to be in bed, but this one-- this one will be working instead. The hand that grabbed him had been stained with ink and calluses both; the kind of man who longed for action but was stuck behind a desk. He’ll be up late, managing men and supplies miles away on paper, but in his head--

Oh, in his head, he’ll be thinking about the man he’s left to rot in the dungeons. The one that might be just the right fit for what he needs, for the jobs he can’t give that giant or the pretty girl at his side. It’s the sort of idea that’ll eat at him when the lamps are low and the night is quiet, and oh, how a conscience can gnaw when there’s no more work to feed it. There’s a reason he’s never idle. Not usually, at least.

He casts a long glance down the silent hall; the guard sits at his table, log book spread in front of him, another smaller one laid atop. A novel, by the slack-jawed look that’s slapped across his face. In Eurikenna, his reputation had preceded him, and they’d bound him hand and foot, bolting his wrists to the wall and his feet to the bench. Viande had put him in a cell with a single window and stone on all sides, his only escape leading into a moat rumored to be prowled by sharks.

Here he has a single guard and bars he could probably squeeze through if he skipped a meal or two. It’s insulting to be so underestimated-- or it would be, if he wasn’t already planning to stay. He’s paid out his room at the inn for a week; a few days to enjoy the impeccable food and passable mattress he’s got here won’t hurt-- just as long as he makes it back before the innkeep tosses all his worldly goods in the gutter. And if he does need to make a quick escape--

Well, it’s hardly the first time he’s slipped the noose. But it won’t come to that. Younger Highness is on the hook.

The door to the dungeon clanks open; it’s a softer sound, barely loud enough for him to hear, but he hasn’t made a name for himself by being the sort of person who only hears what he ought. The guard’s gone-- book too-- and his hand itches to have something that ends with a point in it. He should have known, this was all too easy.

A shrouded figure sweeps through the threshold, prowling with the easy confidence only men born to power possessed-- or a professional. His hands flexed, too empty. He’s a loose end, an embarrassing stain on a proud man’s reputation, and there’s only one thing to do with that-- rub it out.

“You’re not the prince,” he says, keeping his voice even, maybe a bit petulant. Boldness wins a bluff; all he needs is time. Just a second, a hesitation--

Which he gets; the figure’s boots scuffing to a stop. Its head cocks, curious. “Is that so?”

It’s a man’s voice, higher than he expects, but resonant. The sort that people listen to when they’re not looking for a way out. The sort that won’t care for a man turning his back on it.

“You’re too tall.” He saunters to his cot, the mattress sinking under his weight. Not quite the attitude he’d been hoping for, but close enough. Gives him enough time to realize his cloaked friend isn’t talking-- no, instead he catches the barest tremble of cloth before a gloved hand tugs it smooth.

“How...astute,” the man hums, a strange lift kicking that first vowel before he smooths that out too. Everything about this man is slick, from the shine of his boots to the way he says, “That must be the observational skills that tempted even the marquis to hire you.”

His grin flicks into a grimace, but habit wipes that all clean before he says, “I wasn’t hired by anyone. Just wanted to...advertise my skills. In case anyone with a fat wallet found themselves needing a problem taken care of.”

Another pause, this one heavier. “And this girl seemed like a likely target?”

“A commoner nosing around a prince?” A laugh huffs out of him. “What about that isn’t a problem? At least when it’s a lady, she doesn’t have pockets that need filling, but some little herbalist girl? There’s a long way between lady slippers and slippers for a lady. And not everyone wants to kiss hems to get a mistress in their pocket.”

Not when it’s just as like to be covered in mud. If there’s one thing he’s learned about these bluebloods, it’s that they only suck up, not down.

The shroud shifts, arms folding across a chest too slender to be called broad, and shoulders too wide to be scrawny. Lithe, perhaps, the perfect size to slip through a man’s guard.

“The job is over, you know.” Boot heels clack as the man draws closer, just enough to see a defined chin beneath the shadows of his hood. “There’s no need for all this cloak and dagger. Haruka has already confessed to the crown that he was the one to hire you.”

His fingers flex behind his head, longing for something besides bristle to cross his palms. “Don’t know why he’s going through all the trouble. I don’t know him.”

This isn’t his first interrogation, but it’s certainly the slowest. The man stands silently outside the bars, a single finger lying along his diamond-cut jawline. No questions, no speculation, just a shadow staring out of a hood, observing. This must be what it’s like to be boiled alive; put in the pot when it’s barely a simmer, the heat raising so gradually that it’s not until his chest is near bursting to speak, to fill the silence, that he knows he’s been cooked.

“What would you have done?” the man says, finally. “If you had your way with the girl.”

The girl who, in the face of danger, tore an arrow from the wall rather than run. “Nothing permanent.”

What little he can see of the shroud’s mouth curves. “How very vague. So many unpleasant things only take a moment.”

“The job was to scare her off,” he admits, wondering why his belly quivered in his gut. There’s bars between them, and his hands are faster than any nob’s, no matter how good the costume. But still, his muscles lay coiled against his bones, ready to strike. “Seduce her, if she seemed...amenable. Bribe her if she didn’t.”

“And what then?” It’s a quicker response than he expects, but the man isn’t agitated-- far from it, he’s never seemed calmer. “If the girl proved impervious to your more...gentle measures.”

There’s a question in that, one the shroud won’t voice. But he hears it, loud in his ears as a bell’s gong.

“I’ve killed before,” he says, each word on thin ice. “And I still sleep at night.” Barely. “I could have done it again.”

“But would you?”

For once, he hesitates. Imagines looking into those bright eyes, the ones that flamed so fiercely in defiance, and with the flick of a wrist, snuffing them out.

“It’d be a waste.” His hands tremble where they cradle his head, a command he hasn’t given them. This is the last thing he needs right now, losing control. “That girl’s got a lot of pluck. And if rumors around the pharmacy are right, a lot of brains too. Besides, bodies make more talk than bribes.”

“That they do.” There’s a lilt to those words, almost amused. “You know, you called it a job. Implying that you received compensation for your services.”

It’s a sting to realize he’s slipped. “Doesn’t mean it was the marquis.”

“It certainly doesn’t,” the man agrees, and if this room weren’t so dark, if this conversation wasn’t so serious-- well, he’d be tempted to say this guy is laughing at him. “Do you have a name?”

He turns to him real slow-like, one utterly dubious brow arched toward the guard’s register. “You want me to believe you can’t read?”

That shadow of a mouth lifts again. “Am I to believe a man of your skill gave your birth name to the royal guard?”

His mouth cocks into a grin. “You must if you think I’m gonna give it to you.”

The man comes closer still, one gloved hand wrapping around his bars. He’s visible to the tip of his nose; a long, patrician one.

“Of course. But you must have something you would like to be called.” His lips-- bowed, the most fashionable in Clarines’ court-- twitch toward a smile, but fall perilously short. “An alias, if you will.”

“Obi.” It’s too short, too quick, but already he likes it. It’s a more playful name than he’s had in a long while. Easy to lose, too, if he needs it.

“Well then, Obi.” His arm rests over one of the cross bars of his cell. “I believe I have a proposition for you.”

“Haah.” He hops to his feet, hoping to seize the high ground. “I appreciate the interest, but I’m already waiting on an offer.”

To say the hood recoiled would be an overstatement, it merely pulls back, barely more than an inch. “An offer?”

“Well, maybe more like...I have prospects.” Obi restrains his grin to little more than a twitch. “I just gotta see if they’ll pan out.”

The hood stills, thoughtful. “What if I could guarantee you a better offer?”

“You couldn’t.”

The man hums, amusement changing his pitch. “I quite sure I could.”

“Nah.” Obi shakes his head, almost wishing it weren’t so. This guy seems like he could be real fun, if he got his hands on his reins. “I don’t think so.”

“Please.” He opens a hand; an invitation. “Try me.”

“Fine.” There’s nothing to lose by telling, besides some face, if he’s wrong. Which Obi knows he’s not. “I got a feeling the next guy through that door’ll be His Highness.”

The man rocks back, like he’s been hit. “Zen? You think...?”

Obi expects some bargaining, some disbelief, maybe even some haggling, but--

He does not expect the laugh.

“Oh,” the man coughs, lifting a hand as if he might wipe tears from his eyes. “I promise you, I can give you a...far more attractive offer.”

Now that’s a rich one. “What could be better than a second prince?”

The man’s hand raises past his eyes, right to the edge of his hood. With the barest flick of his fingers, the cloth falls back, baring bright gold and Wisteria blue.

“Why,” drawls His Highness Izana Wisteria, crown prince, soon to be first of his name, “the first.”

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander���last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

[janetfraiserdeservedbetter]

Pins And Needles (Chapter One)

Rating: G

Words: 1738

Fandom: Stargate SG1

Pairing: Sam Carter x Janet Fraiser

Summary:  Janet is a single mother and owner of a tattoo studio. Sam is a florist who has just moved into town. Janet's infatuated. Sam's a disaster gay. Flower shop/Tattoo parlour AU.

Read Chapter Two here

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Chapter One

Janet Fraiser was running late. She’d never understand how teenagers coud sleep so much! She struggled every morning to get her 14 year old out of bed. Every day was a constant struggle to be a good parent, especially hard when she was doing it alone.     She’d at least fed her daughter and dressed herself, an even bigger victory when they seemed to be on time. It wasn’t until they were halfway to school that Cassie realised that she’d forgotten her entire bag and so they had to turn around and now Janet was running half an hour late and she’d not even had her morning coffee yet.

    She pulled her pickup into the staff parking behind the store, fumbling for her shop keys as she raced toward the door where her Vala was waiting.     Vala was taller than Janet by a mile and the two couldn’t look more different; besides the height difference, Janet had auburn, borderline red, hair that she very rarely left down when she was working whereas Vala had dark locks that almost reached her waist, a waist that was often exposed or at least accentuated by various leather garments. Janet’s smaller frame meant that her body was curvier than the other woman’s and she certainly seemed to dress more practically than Vala, choosing to stick to jeans and a cozy cotton turtleneck.     “I’m sorry, I know I’m late again…” She unlocked the door and let the other woman in before her.     “No, no, that’s fine, dear, I only just got here. Trouble with Cassie again?”     “Mm, teenagers.” Janet ran a hand through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic band from her wrist as she looked around the tiny studio. She’d opened ‘Pins and Needles’ two years ago in an attempt to finally do something for herself. She’d quickly come to realise that maybe she was in over her head; being a single mother and the only artist/owner of a tattoo parlour was practically impossible.     Thank god for Vala. She had been passing through town - all tattoos and attitude, fresh out of her apprenticeship - got herself into some trouble and then never seemed to leave. They’d hit it off immediately, though, with two women as feisty as they were, there was bound to be chaos, not to mention that between Janet constantly being late because of a stubborn teen and Vala just struggling with time management, they wouldn’t get anything done if they hadn’t scheduled their working hours earlier than they needed to be. The store didn’t open for another hour but there was always something to set up or sanitise and that also meant there was time for coffee.     “Did you see that they finally got someone into that store across the street?” Vala set her bag into the cupboard and plopped down into the nearest chair, producing a bagel from god knows where to nibble on. Janet looked up from the till she was now counting, only now taking notice of the new coat of white paint that had given life to the old building across the road. “About time, too,” Vala continued. “Mr Yang kicked the bucket months ago. I wonder if there’s going to be any handsome boys working there...”     Janet shot her friend a look and closed the till draw, tearing off a receipt for the books and storing it in a folder under the desk. “I’m going to get a coffee. Can you get set up?”     Vala sat up and waved a hand at her dismissively. “Oh oh, say hi to Danny for me, will you?”     The other woman couldn’t help but laugh as she rolled her eyes. Vala was very popular with a lot of the men around here; she loved the attention but what she loved even more was a man playing hard to get. Not that Janet was sure Daniel was playing hard to get or just too naive to realise that the woman wanted to rail him into next week.     ‘The Lord of the Beans’ was an unassuming shop; tucked between a grocery store and a newsagent, the bookstore come coffeeshop didn’t do much to put itself on the map. The storefront sported the original tall windows but piles and piles of books blocked the warm spring sun from penetrating the dungeon like atmosphere. Not that the place was unwelcoming; anything but! Daniel Jackson owned the place, a man who looked as humble as his store. He was handsome but he definitely didn’t know it, hiding his slim frame in oversized sweaters and with a mop of light brown hair draping his face. It was only him that worked there and he never seemed to take a day off; he seemed most content to sit in his den of old books and interesting artifacts, as if the store was built solely for his enjoyment.     Janet wiped her boots before she stepped into the shop, being hit suddenly by the smell of fresh cinnamon scrolls and ground coffee.     “Morning Daniel,” She greeted warmly as she placed her $10 note on the counter, the man poking his head around a bookshelf. He smiled when he saw her and, setting down the book he was inspecting, he rounded the counter and started working on her latte, ignoring the money.     “Hey! How’s my only customer this morning?” They shared a smile; he wasn’t exactly telling the truth but he definitely didn’t get enough traffic to keep him in business. She’d found out not long ago that he wrote articles for history journals in his spare time and apparently, he was quite good at it. That would explain how he stayed in business.     “In need of my favourite barista’s magic bean juice.” She leaned her hip against the counter, wiping her hand across the cover of an old ‘Chaucer’. “Cassie’s going to a friend’s sleepover this weekend so I’m looking forward to some ‘mummy’ time.”     The man passed the paper cup over the counter to her, nodding out the window at the new store. “Have you, uh, been over there yet?”     “To the florist? No. Just got in.”     “I saw her park her bike in front of the store when I got in...she looks like your type, you know.” Daniel took a sip of his own coffee, giving her that look over his glasses. It wasn’t a secret that Janet was a bisexual - she didn’t flaunt it but most of her friends at least assumed, with the tattoos and the pickup truck.     “Daniel Jackson, are you trying to set me up?” A laugh of disbelief left her before she could help it but she was still looking out the window at the florist.     “I’m just saying...someone needs to go say hi, at least before Jack does.”     She looked back at him quickly and he shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose.     “You’ve got a point. We can’t have Jack scare her away on the first day… Can you make me another latte and I’ll go take it to her? Get you a little advertising while I’m at it.” She shoved the money into the tip jar while he started on the other coffee.

It wasn’t normal to be this nervous; it was just a fellow business owner, right? She hadn’t even seen the woman yet. She probably wasn’t even gay, despite what Daniel said about her motorcycle. The store had been repainted from the garish red that used to be the asian grocer to a nice, bright white and immediately, Janet was hit with the smell of flowers, a pleasant smell except for the fact that spring disagreed with Janet. She thanked whatever powers that be for antihistamines and stepped into the partially opened door. There were boxes everywhere, some empty, some stacked precariously on top of each other; a long shelf lined the front window, a few healthy looking plants basking in the sun. There was a litter of empty coffee cups on the front desk and Janet suddenly felt a bit silly. SHe almost had the mind to turn and leave when the door bell finally announced her entrance. A head of blonde hair poked up from behind the counter, blue eyes wide with surprise.     “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not open for a few more days yet.” She seemed flustered and Janet smiled at the woman, holding up the coffee for her to see.     “I work over at the tattoo parlour. I saw someone had moved in here and I wanted to say hi.”     The woman stood, all long legs and a bright smile as she dusted soil from her hands. “Oh, hi!” She held out her hand to Janet. “I’m Sam.”     Janet shook her hand, trying not to pay attention to the woman’s short nails and cuffed blue jeans and white tee with the sleeves rolled up.     “Janet.” She let go of her hand and offered the cup of joe. “I brought this over for you but I see you’ve had a lot already…”     “Oh god, no, I’ll always have another.” She flashed a dimpled grin at the woman Janet felt herself falling already. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.” Sam took a sip of the coffee and hummed. “That’s good coffee!”     Janet smiled at her enthusiasm. “It’s from ‘The Lords of the Beans’; Daniel may be a little antisocial but he knows coffee and he knows books. He’ll chew your ear off about aliens if you let him.”     Sam laughed gently, looking at the mess around her. “I’m running behind with all this but maybe later, you could show me around the town?” She said it so innocently that Janet wasn’t even sure if it was supposed to sound flirtatious. Not getting her hopes up and definitely not mentioning that there wasn’t much to see in town, she smiled back at her.     “Of course. Just swing by whenever you’re free and I’ll take you for a tour.”     “It’s a date!” The blonde grinned and got back unpacking her boxes as Janet saw herself out. God, she felt like a teenager again. She didn’t have too long to daydream about the new florist because Vala was waving at her from the shop window and she was reminded that there was only 20 minutes until opening. She finished her coffee, dumping the empty cup before she headed inside, finally feeling human enough to get to work

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 64 - The Cursed Necklace

Noragami x Harry Potter AU 

Words: 2,977

Summary: Things take a dark turn during a trip to Hogsmeade.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

“I’m just saying that what Bishamon did was illegal!”

“Yato, she went over your head and caught the snitch before you.”

“It was practically in my hand!” Yato clenched his fist in front of him, eyes woeful and furious at victory being snatched under his nose.

Yukine rolled his eyes and focused on the frozen path leading them back towards the castle. This conversation was going nowhere.

Hiyori bit back a smile and attempted to brush her tangled hair back behind her ear with her gloved fingers. A few stray snowflakes caught on her jumper sleeve as she did so, melting instantly from the heat radiating from her body.

“Better luck next time.” Hiyori’s tone turned teasing as she looked at Yato’s forlorn expression. “I don’t think we’ve ever won a game that quickly.”

Yato grumbled under his breath, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold and embarrassment. So much for going out with a bang. He knew he should have used that luck potion.

“Either way,” Yukine called back, his breath lacing the air with clouds of white, “It’s not even lunchtime. I say we get butterbeer to celebrate Hiyori’s first victory.”

Yato would’ve pointed out that it wasn’t Hiyori who caught the snitch but kept his mouth shut when he saw her beam up at Yukine’s back.

The warmth of the castle embraced them as they entered, shivering and stamping the dirt from their boots before they split up. Hiyori headed up to Gryffindor Tower, her snow-sodden cloak trailing behind her like a victory banner, whereas Yato and Yukine headed towards the dungeons. Hufflepuff’s assorted wooden barrels and an oaken door marked the point where Yato would leave Yukine, and he descended further to Slytherin.

Yato changed quickly into something warm and dry, opting to wrap his Slytherin scarf around his neck like a badge of honour despite their newest defeat as he walked out the door. He found Hiyori and Yukine already waiting for him at the front of the castle, and together, they made their way to Hogsmeade.

The early November snowfall had picked up and sent flurries to obscure their paths and the faces of other students who pushed and shoved each other playfully in the sleepy roads that led into Hogsmeade. They pulled their hats lower to cover their reddened ears and tucked their faces further inside their scarves as they avoided the stray snowballs and laden shoppers; no doubt starting on their Christmas shopping.

The trees had long since shed their leaves, leaving their branches stark and imposing against the white sky. Just beyond their vision, the Shrieking Shack stood quiet and still.

Yato tore his eyes away from the structure as they meandered through the village and its quaint shops. Images of Sakura, a shell of herself and husked, flashed through his head, reminding him of the woman who risked everything to find him.

As if reading his mind, Hiyori broke the crisp winter silence between them. “Have you had any luck with your visions?”

Yato shook his head in response and a breath of a sigh escaped him and clouded the air.

It had been over a month since any new visions had come to him. Only one was recurring; the locket and ring in Grimmauld Place. Yato beat his brain, trying to work out the connection between the ring’s insignia and the Sorcerer, but none came. He wished he paid more attention to Ancient Seals class. It seemed that Sakura’s ghost haunted him with untold answers.

Hiyori hummed. She knew she couldn’t help, and it would be no use to put pressure on Yato; he already knew that he was the key to finding horcruxes.

The Three Broomsticks lay ahead of them, tucked to the side with snowdrifts already heaping at the doorway and against the frosted windows and empty flower boxes.

The door burst open when they were only a few meters from the entrance. The snow put up little resistance against the man who swung the door open and held it, allowing a small woman to pass under his arm. It took Yato a moment to recognise the way that the man had to duck his head under the door's wooden frame, but the realisation came quickly when he saw the pink curls tucked under a snowy white hat.

“Yato, Hiyori, Yukine!” Madame Kofuku exclaimed, equally surprised to see them outside of the castle.

“Hello, Miss,” the three replied. Yato’s attention would’ve turned to Daikoku if movement around his legs hadn’t caught his eye.

A boy, no older than a toddler, was tucked between Madame Kofuku and Daikoku. Big, curious eyes peered back at Yato, and then Hiyori and Yukine, before the child hid himself away in the folds of Daikoku’s coat. A small, mitten fist wrapped around Madame Kofuku’s gloved finger, and she looked at the boy with a smile.

“I don’t suppose you’ve met Daigo,” Madame Kofuku said humorously, looking at the three blindsided faces in front of her. “Our son.”

Daikoku wore a smile – one that seemed too soft for a man they’d seen obliterate countless Deatheaters – and urged Daigo forward with gentle words and a guiding hand. His eyes, brown and wide and slightly mistrusting fixated on Hiyori.

Hiyori cooed at the boy, and Yukine bent over with his hands on his knees and attempted his friendliest smile, which only resulted in the child wilt away against his mother. Yato, on the other hand, was having a crisis. 

His head swirled. She wasn’t pregnant the last time they had seen her in Potions class. No, that wasn’t right, this child was, what, three years old? Yato tried to do the math and failed. How could Madame Kofuku and Daikoku have a child? The question escaped him before he could stop himself.

“How?” Yato asked stupidly.

Four sets of eyes burned into Yato, either in amazement at his lack of education or the rudeness of the question.

Yato backtracked. “I mean, not how, I know how you… y’know, but how are you… how long…”

Yukine felt his face flame in second-hand embarrassment and buried his face in his hands, silently begging Yato to please, please, shut up. Hiyori seemed to blush the more Yato rambled on, but Madame Kofuku seemed to be humoured by his flailing. She squeezed Daikoku’s hand and pulled Daigo closer.

“No love potion was needed to make this one,” Madame Kofuku interrupted, though her answer brought further embarrassment to Yato, as well as Hiyori and Yukine. “We adopted him.”

The penny dropped, and Yato let out a long ‘ah’. That made sense. He spared another glance at Daigo, not that he saw as his head was under his mother’s coat. “Well, he’s very… cute.”

“Just like his daddy.” Madame Kofuku smiled. “You’ll have to excuse us, we’re Christmas shopping for this little one.”

Yato, Hiyori, and Yukine bobbed their heads with a mix of ‘of course’ and ‘see you on Monday’ as Madame Kofuku and Daikoku moved around them, Daigo holding each of their hands as he tottered through the snow.

“What a cute family,” Hiyori remarked. In the distance, Daikoku hauled Daigo onto his hip and placed an arm around Madame Kofuku’s waist.

“Yes,” Yukine agreed. “Who would’ve thought they’d have a kid together.”

Yato couldn’t help but feel slightly sad as he watched the small family vanish from view. Sakura would’ve loved that boy. Auntie Sakura, he would’ve called her. Yato shook the impossible fantasy from his head and pushed open the inn door.

A wave of heat washed over them and instantly melted any lingering snowflakes that clung to their clothes and hair. It was as busy as expected, with most third-year students on their first Hogsmeade excursion crowded around old sticky tables on mismatched, rickety chairs. Butterbeer seemed to be flowing freely from the number of glasses they could see cupped in hands and abandoned on uncleared tables, the noise drowning out anything they could say.

Yato spotted an empty table in the corner and wrestled his way over to it, dumping his hat and scarf on a wooden chair closely followed by Yukine and Hiyori. He gestured for Yukine to help grab the empty glasses before turning back to the bar, leaving Hiyori to scoot herself into a wobbly chair and guard the chairs from theft.

Three warm mugs of butterbeer – two in Yato’s hands and one in Yukine’s – found its way to the table. Hiyori had hung her scarf over the back of her chair on top of her coat, but her hat was nowhere in sight. Yato dropped into a chair once Yukine had slid into his own and took a big gulp of butterbeer.

They chatted idly, about Potions and Yukine’s accusations that Yato must be cheating and he better not even think about cheating on his N.E.W.T.s. Yato rolled his eyes with a smile and bought the next round of drinks, and the next, until his pockets were empty and they couldn’t drink anymore.

They began to pull on their chilly coats and hats and scarves, but Hiyori frowned when she turned in her seat.

“Have you seen my hat and scarf?” Hiyori asked. Yato and Yukine both peered on the floor and shook their heads. The red and gold stripes of her scarf were no longer draped over the back of her chair.

“Your hat wasn’t there when I came back the last time,” Yato said, then thought back. “Actually, think your scarf was gone too.”

Hiyori muttered something under her breath and shuffled through her coat. They had both vanished into thin air, though she suspected that one of The Three Broomsticks poltergeists had mischievously hidden them; they liked to prank the third-years.

“Well, they’ll show up,” Hiyori said. She stood and shrugged her coat on, and Yato looked at her doubtfully. The scarf was probably hanging like a banner from the trees by now.

The snow had piled even higher, making it more of a challenge to get the pub door open and to keep their footing as they crunched through the fresh snow towards Honeydukes. Yukine led the way, tailed by Yato and Hiyori as they trudged up the path, now sleety from the heavy foot traffic which had turned the snow to mush.

Hiyori felt the chill of a melting snowflake slip down her neck. A violent shudder ripped through her which she tried to suppress, but Yato quickly caught on. He looked at her face which had been bitten by the frost, her cheeks and nose scarlet in the winter air. A hundred snowflakes had already found a home in her hair.

“Cold?” Yato asked.

“N-no…” Hiyori said, trying to keep the shake from her voice. She looked down at her boots, her toes feeling cold already, and hoped they would get home soon.

Hiyori crossed her arms over her chest, more to hide her shaking than to warm herself up. Yato bit back a smile at her stubbornness as she sped up to keep him from noticing her clenched jaw keeping her teeth from chattering.

“Liar.” Yato breathed.

Yato unwound his scarf from his neck, the snow crunching under his quickening his pace as he jogged up behind Hiyori and deftly wrapped the scarf around her neck, flinging the tail end of it over her head like a make-shift hat.

Hiyori stopped short, vision impaired by the green wool which had quite literally been pulled over her eyes. She tugged the scarf down, the fabric piling around her nose and mouth, effectively stopping her from protesting – if that’s what she wanted to do. Instead, the second thing she noticed after its warmth was its smell: deep and familiar, completely filling her senses as a warmth spread over her cheeks. Hiyori was glad that Yato couldn’t see her blush as he smiled at her stupidly.

“Better?” Yato asked.

Hiyori nodded meekly as Yato watched her rearrange the scarf around her shoulders, the green contrasting well against the grey of her coat. Yukine huffed and complained, snapping them out of their moment as he began traipsing through the snow again, eager to get to the shop. 

Honeydukes was just as busy as the Three Broomsticks. There was a wall of students lining the outer shelves and the sound of jars clinking and sweets spilling over the counters. A kaleidoscope of sweets and chocolates and boxes in pretty ribbons lined every surface, the jars themselves stacked high on the walls and drifting down every now and then at the whim of a curious student.

Yato swiped his neck with his gloved hands and began to shoulder his way through the crowd. Yukine and Hiyori split in different directions, their attention taken by the multitude of choices as well as the swarming mass that moved them apart.

The shopkeeper looked harried, his hair a mess and running back and forth along the counter as knuts, sickles, and galleons poured from eager hands and the shoppers left stuffing their faces.

Yato looked over the sweets; not that he could reach them as at least three people were practically queuing to get close to the shelves. He could see Yukine had battered his way to the front with no problem and was already trying to sneak peeks at the cards inside chocolate frogs.

Yato’s eyes swept around the room, and movement beyond the ajar storage room caught his eye. For a moment, he could’ve sworn he’d seen Nora’s familiar black hair, but then again, a lot of girls had hair like hers.

Nevertheless, Yato cautiously scanned the faces around him, looking for any hint of his father or the Sorcerer. Though nothing was out of the ordinary, he found that Hiyori was not among them.

With a spine-chilling realisation, Yato knew that he had just seen Nora, and that – without any proof – she had done something to her.

“Yukine!”

Crossing the room in three long strides and hauling Yukine out of Honeydukes, Yato wasted no time explaining. He didn’t know what this feeling was, but Yukine would understand even if he did take the precious time to explain.

His gaze whirled up the street just in time to hear the air-splitting scream.

Hiyori.

Yato broke into a sprint that outmatched Yukine’s, the ground slipping out from underneath them every now and then when they hit a slushy patch of snow. A few stricken shoppers had paused and stared, hands covering their mouths, at the fallen figure on the bridge.

“HIYORI!” Yato shouted.

He had only come within a few metres of reaching her crumpled body when, as if possessed, she was dragged upright and thrown into the sky. Yato skidded to a stop, mouth open as he watched Hiyori, her body suspended, arms and mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Hiyori's body was tossed from side to side, so dangerously Yato feared her neck would snap as he helplessly watched. Her body froze, whatever paranormal force that had taken her hostage, released its grip on her. Her body plummeted to the bridge in a cloud of powdered snow.

"Hiyori!" Yato shouted, his voice hoarse. He ran through the snow as fast as he could, trying to stop himself from slipping on the icy sludge until he reached her side.

Hiyori's eyes were closed, her face half-pressed into the ground and her body limp like a rag doll. A few feet away a ragged cloth lay half concealing something glittering in the snow.

Yukine had stumbled to their side, heaving and asking if Hiyori was breathing. Yato roughly pulled the scarf away from Hiyori’s mouth before tentatively turning her face and pressing a hand to the base of her neck.

A pulse.

What could have been relief rushed past Yato's lips in a sigh, but he didn't notice. Yukine had caught sight of the necklace that seemed to belong to Hiyori, though neither of them had ever seen her wear anything as old as that.

Yato felt a prickling on the hairs on the back of his neck as Yukine reached to pick it up. There was something dark about it.

"Don't!"

A new voice came from behind, and Yato’s head snapped to look. Daikoku, running and heaving for breath with a flushed face, came to a stop at their side. Madame Kofuku approached at a slower trot, Daigo balanced on her hips and face dark with worry.

Yukine's fingers stopped short as he gave a questioning glance at Daikoku, who in return gave a shake of his head. His face darkened as he took in the necklace and its cloth, and its victim unconscious on the floor.

"Don't touch it. Only the cloth," Daikoku instructed him.

Yukine carefully wrapped the cloth around the necklace and gingerly picked it up, thankfully for his thick gloves. Yato cupped his hands around Hiyori's cheeks. Whatever had happened to her, that necklace had something to do with it.

Daikoku crouched beside Yato and, as delicately as he could, scooped Hiyori up. Her arm hung limply by her side whilst the other curled in her lap at an awkward angle, surely broken.

“We need to get back to Hogwarts,” Daikoku rearranged Hiyori into a supportive embrace and began to trudge cautiously towards out of the village, leaving Yato, Yukine, and his family to follow in his wake.

The dark green scarf trailed behind Hiyori, dampening as it dragged through the snow like a fallen banner. Her head bowed forward, resting in a way that Yato could see the pallor of her cheeks and the stark contrast of her eyelashes against them. Yato’s heart thundered so hard he thought it would burst, and he knew in that moment that he would make Nora pay for this.

Silent as a grave, Hiyori remained senseless to the white world around her.