#fallen Claude AU

[artnijna]

Once upon a December

Fallen Angel sebaclaude au…before darkness. Based off Sebastian and Claude’s original designs for their hair.

Yall, I got so many aus for these idiots

[mayashesfly]

Thinking about The Proxy AU and its offshoots...

While I first made this AU with the idea of an empty robot with nothing else, thus the tag for "Hollowed Proxy AU" Now that I'm attached to the dynamic of Proxy and Kitty as well as the plethora of possibilities Sentient Proxy provides, "Sentient Proxy AU" as a tag is starting to become rather redundant. Though Proxy does start off as being rather blank until it starts to slowly become its own person.

Meanwhile, unfortunately "The Redeemed and Fallen Proxy AU" scenario isn't canon in my mind. Vox is sadly not accidentally redeemed and still alive in Heaven in The Canon Proxy AU.

It personally just doesn't fit my vision for this AU and there's no logical way I can convince my autistic mind that Vox could've been redeemed with the actions he had made prior to his permanent death into nonexistence.

Vox did not become a better person for sacrificing himself to save Alastor when that's something he would've always done.

For all the evil that he has commited and the rot that coats his soul, he still has that small kernel of goodness he reserves for those he loves and cares about. His family.

But that single act doesn't repent for all the evil he has made when that was something he would've always done.

He didn't change for the better- and thus, he did not redeem himself.

A part of the story of The Proxy AU would be handling that grief, and the eventuality of having to fully face that grief.

(Even though I cannot promise I can fully touch on that in my posts/writings since I doubt I have the energy to write an actual fanfic)

To have Vox actually/secretly be alive in Canon Proxy AU defeats that purpose.

But just because he's gone doesn't mean that he's forgotten nor has fully faded into nonexistence.

When there's still people around that carry the memories of him, even beyond the void.

[viv-url]

hi!! i really love your art, and really like seeing your claude/sylvain fanart ^^ would you happen to have any fic reccs for them?

thank you!!! and oh howdy thank you for asking because BOY DO I HAVE SOME RECS FOR YOU !!! and for everyone else here too (I'm making this everyone's problem)

Heretical by howlish (post azure moon) - this is the bible, the gateway drug to claudevain. an actual novel of slowburn romance, political drama, attempted assassinations, heists, and more. the way this writer understands Sylvain and Claude, both individually and together, is so real and thoughtful and perfect.

all this riot of light by asael (post crimson flower) - this one is melancholic but bittersweet in its nostalgia. Claude and Sylvain find themselves bereft in the aftermath of the war, but their unexpected reunion is light and hopeful.

fox trap by omobot (white clouds) - cute and sweet! Sylvain gets turned into a fox and then runs into Claude?! Ohhh the absolute fluff in this... my heart melts.

Salt, Stone, and Secrets by timehopper (mermaid AU) - Claude finds a new face in Derdriu, mysterious yet alluring... I love the world this writer sets for this AU, it feels like a dreamy and romantic fairytale.

The Tent by retikrit (verdant wind) - I can only give you this summary: "Claude discovers that people are having a lot of sex." There is so much pining and fleeting touches here. the banter, the tension ... I adore their interactions, the inner turmoil Claude goes through in trying to understand how he feels about Sylvain. It's a little horny, a tiny bit angsty, and very endearing.

and a super special mention to Ruined Sky, Fallen Star: Claudevain Anthology which is coming out soon! this zine is made up of an all-star team of talented artists and writers, plus I drew a postcard with a naked Sylvain. Here's a preview:

please enjoy, make sure to comment and kudos if you liked any of the fics, and please spread the good word of our lord and saviour claudevain

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Turning Pages

Start of Claude in Husbandry AU!

Past – Next

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Author’s note: Start of Claude in Husbandry AU! Claude is now in the Husbandry AU! OG goes to Kit-williams. She’s amazing, so are all the other people who write/make art/writing in the Husbandry tag. Seriously!

Summary: Claude wakes up, still almost dead on a forest floor on a planet he for sure was not on.

Warnings: Pain, wounds, injuries. Uh… let me know if I need to add any in the tags please.

Claude wakes up with a painful gasp and is more than a little surprised that he’s alive. He had thought as the Xeno scum fell out of the sky that it would crush him to death. He opens his eyes and tries to assess how he’s feeling. Pain- pain, is good and bad, pain is good, which means he can feel that his wounded. Pain is bad, he’s wounded badly enough to feel it. As he slowly looks around with a frown and furrowing of his eyebrows, he doesn’t recognize the flora and fauna of the forest that he’s in. The last thing that he recalls, he was in an open battle field that didn’t have much in the way of forests and bushes, at least the part of the world that he and his squad was fighting in. He starts by cautiously wriggling his fingers and opens, they move easily and without much pain.

His armor, from the alerts he’s getting is broken, wrenched in places from the claws of the Xeno-scum that he had been fighting. Also, his body is badly wounded from the fighting, and getting almost crushed by a falling giant flying Tyranid that had fallen… not at terminal velocity, but it was a giant beast of a Xeno-filth. While he, his brothers, and chapter are taught stealth, they’d been pulled to help another chapter when the Tyranids had attacked, and the losses he’d heard of his vox device for the wounded and fallen of his brothers had him knowing that direct, confrontational battle isn’t what he and his chapter are trained for. He’s covered in blood and gore, his own, and the Xeno’s he’s killed. He sends out a vox call for help, and as he tries to send a message his voice crackles and croaks and he coughs. He wheezes, unfortunately, he must have had his lungs semi-crushed. He’s thankful to be a Primaris Astartes, after all, his healing factor is better than a first born, and he’s still alive.  

He closes his eyes and he knows for certainty even if panic is starting to flicker into his hearts. He doesn’t want to die. Not like this, alone, and out of battle. If he’s to die, he wants to die saving base line humans, or his brothers, or in Glorious Combat. Not choking on his own blood with nary an ally or enemy in sight. The cackling and giggling hasn’t started up, usually when his emotions start to slip his hard fought control they become louder and the voices cackle and jabber lies and false honey promises. He’s no apothecary, but he’d been taught basic first aid, as a stealth operative, getting help, even from squad mates was unlikely to happen, at best they wouldn’t be close enough to help, at worst they would ignore his calls for help in order to complete the mission. He slowly shifts himself onto his hands and knees, slowly, carefully as he crawls over to a tree to lean against.

It’s slow going and his vision fades in and out as dark spots speckle across his vision as he wheezes and coughs. He knows what it feels like to be badly wounded, had been trained how to push through the pain and persevere. The Mechanicus was very through in their training of the Primaris Marines, and his Elder Brothers, among the First born have specialized his training and ensured him and his brothers would be even more fit for their holy mandates as Angels of the Imperium. He takes the few medical supplies that he has on him, and to his dismay nearly all of them are broken or busted in such a way that using them would be more dangerous than useful at this point in time. He leans against the tree tries to take slow deep breaths as he closes his eyes and reaches out, it’s harder, much hard than it should be as his spirit fades from his body and he tries to find a mind that he knows, that is familiar.

To his dismay so many are baseline human and the Elder brothers are all strange, as his spirit walks and wanders before his hearts soar with hope as he recognizes one of the minds as a friend. As someone who he helped and helped him in training back on Holy Mars. Cedric.

[Cedric. Please. Help me.] He calls out to Cedric.

It’s never certain if his brothers can actually hear him or not when his soul is out of his body. He reaches and touches one of Cedrics arms and notices Cedric twitch.

[Brother-cousin please, I’m bleeding out in the forest three hours south of here. I… I don’t want to die ingloriously. Cedric please]. He calls out to the young Apothecary.

[omgkalyppso]

"You can trust me. I hope you know that." your FE3H or BG3 characters of choice

I decided I'd write something I'd probably never have written otherwise! Shahid's surrender.

I'm not sure which AU it fits into. Avery is there, my shez oc. And Nader briefly.

The whole thing is 2,193 words and I'll probably put it on ao/3 later. No editing has been done.

Thank you for the ask!!!

.

Shahid felt the noose tightening. Khalid was the leader of this Leicester Alliance, he should not have been upon the field — what else could there be for him to prove? Unless he simply wanted to kill him personally.

In victory, Shahid imagined he would find his brother at the back of the army, or further still in the walls of some city. Why wouldn't he run away again, as he always had?

In defeat, Shahid would have expected to die at the hands of a stranger, or to be brought violently back to his brother's heel for execution.

Yet here they were, landing wyverns across from one another in a field already stained with blood, no action or subordinates to distract from their acknowledgement of one another.

“It really is you …”

“I'm here to stop you from ruining Almyra's reputation, Shahid.” Claude’s wording was careful. If he could appeal to his brother’s Almyran pride he might be able to turn the leadership of this fight elsewhere.

Shahid pulled on the reigns of his wyvern, causing the beast to rear back with a roar. “Her reputation in this land of weaklings and cowards?”

Claude sighed, disappointed that he’d stumbled on the wrong phrasing for Shahid’s current mood.

“Even now Fodlan's only glory is from the heels of Almyra's weakest link. Without you, this country will cannibalize itself within the decade,” Shahid spat, charging his mount forward, knowing that turning the wyvern would only give an archer lie his brother a larger target.

Rather than accept the clash, Claude took off, spinning thrice to avoid the thrown axe he’d known was coming.

“Almyra knows her worth!” Shahid shouted after him in chase. Whispering under the rush of wind and wings, “And mine.”

.

Shahid’s axes came close. A single strike to a winged shoulder would have been enough to risk a deadly fall and a lost friend, so Claude paced himself, not meaning to toy with Shahid, but timing sudden drops and careful acrobatics to his advantage. Arrows riddled Shahid’s wyvern before Shahid had managed more than a single scratch on the hide of Claude’s wyvern. Shahid’s mount’s movements had steadily become more choppy, but the final arrow sent the beast to the ground in a steady decline.

Claude wished they’d landed earlier. Shahid’s mount didn’t die gracefully, but Claude had some relief that his brother jumped down and across the wyvern’s wailing body, axe still raised in accusation.

“Give it up, Shahid!” Claude shouted, landing across the field, bow still raised. “It's over. You lost.”

Shahid’s eyes flickered to where a Fodlani soldier rushed forward, skidding to an angular stop to his brother’s side. Beyond, he could see his own fallen guard, and bared his teeth in rage.

“Let fly that arrow, then!” He taunted. “I'll never kneel to the likes of you!”

“But that isn't what I'm asking for you to do here!” Claude insisted. He threw his arms down in frustration, lowering his weapon as he thought of how Shahid would have demanded his allegiance, if not his death — and how he should be doing the same, whether because of Almyran custom, to hide his identity as planned, or for the safety of both Leicester and Almyra. He dismounted. “Let's end this, come on!”

Claude dreamed of the children they had never been, playing together, teaching one another, and reflected on how Shahid’s natural gravity and subtle intellect had inspired the methodology of his plans all the same. Even with how their environment had pit them and their siblings against one another, they were more similar than they were different, even if he would have to convince Shahid of the worth of people not from Almyra. He was his brother, and Claude wanted him at his side, even ahead of him, so long as he would listen, as long as he would try.

“You little brat …” Shahid hissed, holding his left shoulder as though his axe was heavy and he was supporting himself. “I'd sooner die!”

The knife flying in Claude’s direction wasn’t a surprise, but it also wasn’t an attack he should have been weathering, with dreams of reconciliation.

Avery was in front of him in the blink of an eye, easily parrying the thrown blade with the strange, summoned sword that acted as an extension of his arm.

Claude sighed hopelessly, and then donned a different mask as he addressed his classmate, “Thanks for that.”

With his dual blades still at the ready, and without looking away from Shahid, who took three more heavy steps forward, Avery squared his posture, tightened his jaw and tossed his head slightly to adjust his bangs.

“Look, Claude …” Avery said, low. “If you can't do it, then I can.”

Shahid heard him anyway and chuckled darkly as he swung his axe up to hold the weapon in both hands. “Yes, Claude,” he mocked, “loose a mongrel on a prince of Almyra. Even that would be more dignified than to be ended by the hand of an impertinent, soulless—”

“Prince Shahid—” Nader shouted, as if to interrupt him — royalty, while he had the impertinence to land his wyvern at his brother’s side.

Shahid would have none of that, and took off towards him in a run. “How dare you speak to me! You fucking turncoat.”

He expected his brother’s guard dog to cut him off and ignored the roar and shout as he readied to swing up towards the defensive maw of the wyvern on which Nader sat, catching an arrow in the upper arm at the last moment. His weapon faltered, and he should have died, but Nader pulled hard to turn his well-tamed beast aside and into flight again, leaving Shahid on the ground, injured and shamed.

“Why?!” he called up after Almyra’s supposedly staunchest general. “Why did you come with me at all? Why did I trust you?! How could you trust him?!”

It hurt. His pride, his arm, his heart. Yet when the soldier rushed his side, Shahid was able to spin his axe in a wide arc and send them crashing aside.

He expected that might earn him a moment to breathe, to rethink his retreat, but then Claude tackled him and Shahid lost his grip on his weapon as he met the earth unceremoniously.

They’d never fought before, not really. Claude had been a babe, a child, and Shahid had injured, annoyed and abused him if Claude had had the misfortune of being left without a sympathetic authority in his presence. Perhaps that had led Shahid to believe he’d never fought before at all, or to see him still as that helpless child.

Claude clamped a hand around Shahid’s throat, allowing his brother enough momentum to try to sit up from his place prone on the ground before shoving him back down, choking him briefly and cracking the back of his head against the ground. Shahid reached up to claw at his face with one hand, punching back against his brother’s left shoulder with his left hand. Shahid’s wild eyes shook and his vision swam, but he could make out the glittering pieces in Claude’s outfit at this inescapable proximity and despite how Claude decked him in the temple, he was able to steal one of his brother’s many knives with his left hand as his right clung to Claude’s chest, Shahid’s brain rattling in his skull.

Shahid drove that knife into his brother’s thigh and did not release the hilt through the resulting scream, nor as he used Claude’s shock to force them to roll aside.

Shahid longed to berate his brother, to banter and rage and tell him exactly why and how he would never take Almyra, but all he could do was grunt as he pulled out the blade and struggle with his right arm, still plucked by his brother’s arrow, to try to drive it down into the side of Claude’s head. Claude only had to raise his arm to redirect the blow into the earth, where Shahid left the knife and reached forward to grab his brother’s hair and knock him into the ground as Claude had done to him moments ago.

They tussled, all hands, and teeth, and hidden knives, and the rush of wind and dirt as Nader’s wyvern landed somewhere nearby, and Shahid knew he was going to die here.

Claude’s injured leg kneeled down on Shahid’s arm, the retrieved knife held down by Claude’s left fist, deep in his shoulder. Claude’s right forearm extended across Shahid’s chest, Shahid’s right arm twisted on the ground, the arrow now broken and its tip lost somewhere inside the wound. They both gasped for air, the same air, Claude wished he could shout, blood stinging down the side of his forehead getting caught in his brow.

“Shahid,” Claude asked again. “Don't make me do this.”

Shahid hissed through a false smile of teeth again, until Claude pressed the blade harder.

“Don't you want to see home again?” Claude asked desperately, close to crying as he watched Shahid’s eyes squint closed in pain. “The southern beaches, the western desert…”

Shahid’s eyes opened slowly, staring blindly at the blue and white sky above.

“Don't you want to see the sun tomorrow?” Claude bargained. They both winced, shoulders shrinking in shame and humiliation as Nader corralling a crowd could be heard at a distance.

“Shahid,” Claude begged. “Please.” He pulled the knife free, letting the tip press into Shahid’s cheek, not piercing the skin. “Keep your eyes. Keep your tongue.”

Shahid let his gaze drift to Claude again, the fight draining out of him as he thought of home, tears swelling with the realization of all he’d lost, and all he had yet to lose by agreeing.

“I mean to treat you with dignity and respect,” Claude promised, “and that means I won't seek to humiliate you if you just stop … But this respect also means I'll kill you if I have to, brother.”

Shahid smiled again, not at ease, but less malicious than before — more impressed.

“We don’t need to be enemies. But even as enemies,” Claude said, sliding the blade down to press up into the soft flesh under the corner of Shahid’s jaw, “you can trust me. I hope you know that.”

Shahid scoffed and felt the knife draw blood. He swallowed just to feel that he could, and endeavoured to memorize Khalid’s face in this moment: No joy in his victory.

“Get. Off. Me,” he declared, low and regal. He fully expected Claude to refuse, to press a promise of reconciliation, alliance, vassalage, or exile, but on his shaky leg, Claude slowly lifted himself up and stepped away. Shahid lay in the dirt barely a moment longer, reaching up to touch first his neck and then his forehead, bare, now that his circlet had rolled away on the ground during their fight.

Shahid looked over to the purple haired soldier that held their broken ribs in a crooked stance where they stood by the rubble he’d tossed them into, and then turned his attention back to Claude as he sat up with a grunt and a hand on his chest.

“Shahid—” Claude began again, silenced by a raised royal palm raised not so high as usual for the pain and exhaustion Shahid was subject to.

Shahid stretched his neck back, and closed and stretched his hands before making strides to pull himself to his feet, one knee, split open, nearly giving out on him, bleeding copiously through his armor.

“You,” he demanded of the purple haired soldier. “Ask for my surrender.”

Avery answered before looking to Claude in confusion. “What?”

“Please,” Claude said, an open hand facing the ground extended towards Avery to ensure he stayed his weapons. “Do as he says.”

Keeping in-line with the standard set by the nobles in his presence, Avery forced himself to stand though he kept his arm around himself, still feeling the weight of the Almyran prince’s blow.

“In the name of the Leicester Alliance, I demand you … call off your forces. And, uh, submit … to a total surrender.”

Claude’s wince and Shahid’s lowered brow reinforced how Avery had not done that correctly.

“Do I have any forces left?” Shahid asked Claude.

“We’ll take care of it,” Claude answered cryptically.

After a roll of his eyes, Shahid addressed the soldier again, “You will have to bind me.”

“There's no need for—” Claude began to object.

“Shut up,” Shahid said ineloquently. “I need no more than my hands to best you.”

Claude had to hold himself back from pointing out all the evidence to the contrary, and could see how his irritation earned another biting smile from Shahid.

“I will need to be bound,” Shahid told the soldier despite the bile in his throat.

“Yeah,” Avery agreed, sparing a glance at Claude. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Take him straight to the keep. And find him a subtle healer,” Claude ordered Avery. “He’s not a spectacle.” Shahid laughed openly. Claude hid his eyes in his hands and rubbed feeling back into his face, and then swept back his hair. “I have stuff to finish up here.”

[that-one-pretty-bitch]

An au where Reader is Anastacius daughter from a one-night-stand but the mother died and Anas took her to make her his heir

[before the whole Claude Penelope thing]

and like after his death Claude didn’t kill her just put her in a random palace and then when one day Diana met her while walking around in the garden she asked Claude who she was and if she could spend some with with reader

And after a while Claude saw Reader wasn’t like Anastacius at all and took care of her but like didn’t neglect her reader and Athy became besties

[The last part isn’t important I only would like to see how Diana as a mother figure would be ^^ btw reader should be 5 years older then Athy]

✨ - Anon

[feel free to ignore <3]

𝒴𝑒𝓈𝓈𝓈𝓈, 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝒶𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾'𝓂 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝑜! 𝒜𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝒾𝓉, 𝒴/𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝓊𝒷𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓊𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝒹, 𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓃𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓎/𝓃. 𝒴/𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒴/𝓃'𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽 "𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈" 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒟𝒾𝒶𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓊𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓊𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓎/𝓃 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓎/𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃.

A tall man held a small baby wrapped in a pink blanket. The maids informed him that the baby was a girl. She slightly opened her beautiful jeweled eyes and reached out her tiny fingers for Anastacius, his heart melted at the sight of this. He would name her ‘y/n’, she would be the next empress of Obelia. He lightly cradled the small baby that was gurgling happily and smiling.

“Y/n, you must grow up to be a strong woman, you will rule Obelia one day,” He smiled down

She simply smiled and moved around excitedly.

Slightly afterwards, Y/n’s real mother had been cradling her in her room when Anastacius banged the door open, he pulled Y/n’s mother outside the room and stabbed her

“I apologize for this [insert mother name] however Penelope was feeling uncomfortable with the fact that I had another woman in my life,” He muttered, holding onto his concubine

“Ah, I forgive you but please take care of Y/n for me,” She cried, her last words

A few years later Claude had met Diana at a banquet. He was slightly confused as for why she was not scared in the least. The royals present were staring at her like she was delicious. They looked like they would devour her but ignoring the looks she had been getting she danced her heart out. This act gained Claude’s interest in her. She was so brave and confident. He gave Diana the ruby palace where she could stay and Diana had graciously accepted. Within a few months he had fallen in love with Diana, everything about her was so loveable. He would love her till the end of time. Anastacius had also taken an interest in Diana but it was only for her body, he would use her and throw her away like he did with every one of his concubines and y/n’s mother. Claude however was not willing to give Diana up, unlike for Penelope he would fight to keep Diana. The fight resulted in the death of Anastacius. He made his way to kill Y/n as well, since she was Anastacius’s daughter and anything that belonged to that monster deserved to die. He got his magic ready to kill her, but then he saw her happy face shining with innocence as she hugged him,

“Papa!!” She was too young to differentiate between Claude and Anastacius.

His heart hurt thinking about what he was going to do to the poor girl, he slowly bent down and hugged her tightly, she may not have been his daughter but he was definitely going to protect her with his life.

Claude would often offer her delicious treats or take her for walks and let her do anything she wanted. Y/n had a lot of freedom. One day when Y/n was 4 she was running around the garden and happened to see a beautiful ruby palace, she ran towards the gorgeous palace and a beautiful woman caught her eye. He had the most beautiful gold hair and striking ruby eyes.

Y/n had lost memories of her mother, so she ran up to Diana and hugged her leg. Claude had come to visit Diana that day and his heart melted at the sight of Diana brushing little Y/n’s hair and reading her a story book.

“It seems you two have met,” Claude spoke

“Daddy!!!!” Y/n screamed getting off Diana’s lap and jumping into his arms

Diana looked slightly confused, after all Claude was only 23, how could he have been a dad?

As y/n spotted a butterfly and ran after it Claude walked over to Diana and explained to her the situation with his brother

“Ah, Claude… How could you have ever thought of hurting a child?” Diana smiled angrily as she pulled Claude’s hair harshly.

“It was my brothers and I didn’t mean it - UGH… I’m sorry Diana, please just take care of her,” Claude said in pain as Diana loosened her grip on his hair

“Y/n dear!! Come here~” Diana waved

Y/n walked towards the pretty lady,

“From now on I'm your mother, alright dear?” Diana bet down to speak to the girl

“Yes mommy!!” She hugged Diana

“*sniff* My cutie,” Diana hugged Y/n tightly

Within a year Diana and Y/n were very close, Y/n believed that Claude was her real father and Diana was her birth mother and neither of them bothered to correct Y/n. After all, they did love her and she did not need to know her origins.

Diana would often braid Y/n’s hair and read to her, she refused for a maid to do anything for Y/n after all as Y/n’s mother it was her duty to know and understand her daughter

Diana was patting Y/n’s hair as Y/n told Diana about her teacher praising her for doing well on her test.

“Good job my daughter, i’m very proud of you,” She smiled as she leaned down to kiss her forehead

Y/n blushed at being complimented by her mother. Diana was definitely her favorite parent, however it all changed when Diana announced she was pregnant

Y/n was very happy to know that she would be an older sister, she hugged her mother as Claude held Y/n up to Diana’s stomach so she could “talk” to her sibling

“Hello! I’m Y/n and i’m your older sister, I promise I will love you,” She smiled and just then Diana felt a kick

“Fufu~ It seems that your little sibling likes you already!” She smiled

“I’m going to be the bestest big sister ever!!!” She screamed happily as Claude kissed her cheek

Within the next few months, she did not understand what was happening, Claude always seemed upset but still managed to try and love Y/n. Y/n was waiting eagerly as her mother gave birth but Claude had come out of the room in tears. Y/n was scared, what could have happened? She was about to run into the room when Claude picked her up and took her away

“You don’t need to see that,” He muttered

Y/n tried to peek out of his back, when she saw her favorite maid Lily holding a baby. What happened to her mother?

“Daddy? Is my Mommy okay?” Y/n asked gently wiping his tears with her tiny hands

“Y/n… your mother is gone,” He said gulping down the pain

Y/n didn’t understand, what did he mean that her mommy was gone? Did she leave them?

The next few days Y/n tried asking everyone in the palace about what had happened to her mother but everyone said the same thing as Claude.

That's when she saw Lily cradling a baby, she walked towards the two

“Is that my little sister??? CAN I HOLD HER???” Excitement gleamed in her eyes as Lily sadly handed her the little baby

Y/n struggled to hold the baby, so Lily had to help manage the weight as Y/n started to talk to the baby. She was happy, she wouldn’t be alone anymore!

[rain-and-a-nice-nap]

Hello! This is a continuation on the childhood au, but you could probably just read it on its own if you wanted. I’ll probably make a part two at some point. It’s kinda edited, kinda proof read, gender neutral and shouldn’t have reader physical descriptions. Wasn’t meant to be this long, but I initially wrote it wonky so I’m splitting it into parts. 2,666 words, please let me know if you have constructive criticism lmao I don’t do a lot of creative writing.

It started with a bump.

You were getting your lunch in the dining hall, planning to go sit with your Blue Lions afterward. Filled with anticipation for the delicious-smelling food that you were piling onto your plate, you had no awareness of your surroundings.

Behind you was a group from the Golden Deer house. If you were listening you would hear that they had just begun bickering about which food on the menu today was healthier. But you hadn’t, you were unaware. Focused on other things.

Unlike you, however, was a green-eyed boy who had been dying to talk to you standing just a few steps away, at the head of the group. He was always aware of his surroundings and the way he expressed his every thought, more than most would give him credit for.

“No, no. The beast meat Teppanyaki is surely better for bulk than anything that you were suggesting! Though I can’t deny that the flavor is quite good.” It was a polite argument, to be sure. It was mostly between Leonie and Raphael, though Claude couldn’t be sure which had spoken, now that he was setting his plan in motion.

“Woah, Woah,” he chuckled, deliberately taking steps backward as he was speaking, “Now, I feel like-!” He cut himself off with a gasp, as he pulled a little too good of a fake trip, now actually teetering backward into you.

You had felt a shoulder hit yours and spun around and caught him just in time, your face showing genuine surprise, and his face lightly mirroring yours. Luckily, you had just set down your plate so you could grab a glass of water and some silverware and had free hands.

“Hey, thanks, stranger!” Your attention re-focused on the smirk that your dear friend replaced his shock with.

Helping him stand straight once again, you huffed a light chuckle, practically choking on your emotions. You caught on to what was going on and took a moment before neutralizing yourself and your facial expression, despite the emotions running through you at seeing your friend so close.

“Sure! You’re the golden deer house leader, right? I think I saw you at the practice battle just last week.” You said, desperate to form a connection again, “with your talent with the bow, and your professor's undeniable tactical skill, you might be quite the challenge at the battle of the eagle and lion!”

This caught the full attention of his friends, who had been watching the interaction as soon as their house leader had fallen onto you. Leonie perked up as she figured out where she had recognized you, almost pushing past Claude.

“That’s where I recognize you! Y’know, you were pretty good yourself! You were also there for the bandit fight on that excursion!“ She remarked excitedly, retelling how she watched you hold your ground amidst the bandits before most of them tailed the house leaders. She began to recall how surprised she was to hear that they had been rescued by Jeralt and their newly dear professor.

With the “oohs” and “aahs” of the other group members and the telling of their own stories, you were invited to join them for dinner. Claude sat in front of you, the gleam in his eye ever twinkling as he winked at you, and tapped your boot with his own under the table. Both of you are overjoyed to see each other again, both pretending the joy is coming from the conversation at hand.

Then a hug.

One of the things that you and Claude did for years was take a nap together. Sometimes that was just how he would get his sleep in. Occasionally you would have sleepovers so that he would get a full night's rest on the rough days. Even if you weren’t together napping, just knowing that you were within walking distance had always helped to ease his mind when he needed it to.

Another one of your things was goofy hugs. This started at the beginning of your friendship and was one of the ways that Claude could subtly make sure you still wanted him there. You had run into each other in a corridor and he had an odd smile on his face, one that you now know means he wants something. It was a silly hug, one that you barked a laugh during before you both headed off in your respective directions to perform your palace chores.

It had been a few days since the group dinner, in which you would run into some of them and share a greeting. One of those folks is Claude. On this particular day, you were going opposite ways in the courtyard.

The gold of his cape caught your eye as you turned into the courtyard. Holding back the depth of your joy, you gave him a smile and a wave. One that he returned with glittering eyes and his odd smile.

“What do you want?” You laughed stopping in front of each other. He shared your laugh as he opened his arms to you, knowing that he would be welcomed by yours.

“How dare you accuse me,” he said in jest, “a friend can’t just stop and say hello to another?” You barked a laugh and gave in, walking further towards him and embracing him with a tight hug.

“Not when you make faces like that, Goldie.” He scoffed at the name and began to squeeze you. Now he had you.

He let out a huff as he picked you up and spun you around. You had more muscle than last you met that was for sure, he made a note to lift more in his time here.

You weren’t expecting him to do that and yelped, hands flying to his shoulders and eyes wide as he spun you. He hadn’t been expecting you to do that either and began to laugh as he set you down, laughter getting stronger by the second.

The few students that were in the courtyard had their interest piqued by the sound of howling laughter. If they turned and looked, they saw a deer folding over in laughter and the flustered lion he was depending on for stability staving off the urge to laugh too.

—

People who often spent their days at Garreg Mach might have noted seeing their very own golden deer and a blue lion around the academy together from time to time. Not always, as they were their own people, but enough to shake their heads and laugh at their antics. “These two couldn’t have known each other for more than a few months, but it seems like it could’ve been years!” They would joke.

Of course, you had, but they didn’t need to know that. Now that you’d built a reputation as infamous goofballs together, and your respective identities apart, you could begin being closer. First, there was spending late nights studying at the library, then moving the studying outdoors and getting back to having your forest naps together. Finally, it was lounging around in each other’s rooms turned into occasional secret sleepovers.

Sometimes, Claude goes to your room. While he wishes you were there too, sometimes you are not. In those times he clings to the comfort of your smell, and how it reminds him of home, and all the good outcomes of his goals. He thinks about how he has someone who truly knows him and what he wants and who supports him still. Wants to be there for him. Still thinks that he’s a good person. He thinks about how maybe some of those traits are showing up in the likes of the professor as well, and he feels less alone.

On this day, that very professor gave their golden deer a task. The professor had begun to look towards the blue lion house for recruitment. While they already had recruited a few, their sights were set on you. You were, after all, quite the combat talent. Typically, our dear professor would invite you to lunch, but today they wanted tea and you were nowhere to be found. Usually, this is all good and fine, but the professor wanted to ask if you would assist the Golden Deer for the month.

It was the weekend before the new month and Claude planned to nap for quite a bit of it. He finished his breakfast and stretched as he made his way to the dorms when the professor put him up to the task. So, he sauntered over to your dorm and flopped onto your bed, ready to nap until you got here and pretending his stomach didn’t flip when his favorite smell reached him. It was an efficient plan, really.

Until he started having a dream with you in it.

————-

Originally, you weren't supposed to even be in Fodlan. You were to see him again when his mission to unite Fodlan and Almyra bore fruit. He was pretty insistent on it, to the point where he completely avoided you for a month and a half. That was until you finally got a hint of what was going on and cornered him on his way to one of his chores. It was a long talk filled with tears and heartache. To make it worse, admittedly he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up, because napping together had become your thing and sometimes his source of sleep.

So, after conversing with his Fodlan people, the plan was to send you to Faerghus a few months before he would go to Fodlan, and you would have to find your way into the officer's academy. Of course, there were many contingency plans, and that wasn't even the original plan, but you came in and told everyone to have faith in your abilities, and you stuck to your guns. Your way would be much less of a hassle to everyone, and you already knew how stressed they all were. Adding more stress for them by making them figure out your future was not going to be one of those stresses, not if you could help it.

It was only after sparse and vague letters and finally meeting up with you at the officer’s academy did he find out what happened to you.

After you had said your long and heartbreaking goodbye to Claude, you were snuck into Fodlan on a ship that first stopped at an Almyran port for supplies. Their destination was the empire, but they had to get around the Kingdom first. You lived as a crewmate for about a month before you left the ship and set out into the freezing woods of Faerghus, where you fell ill because you came from the polar opposite climate.

You had bumbled through the woods, vision darkening, as you heard the roar of some giant wolf that you had caught a glimpse of maybe a day before. You really hadn't intended for this, you figured that maybe if you had read up a bit more, this could be been avoided. When you turned to check behind you, you came to see the large wolf was only a few paces behind you.

In the absence of your hazy vision, you had shuffled into the root of a grand tree. Your attention was pulled forward as your body was pulled to the ground. You couldn’t even feel the pain because you were so cold. Rolling onto your back with closed eyes and a shiver, fate was accepted, whatever it may be.

Upon this acceptance, fate did indeed act, as you had heard a yell and the sound of a weapon making contact with its target. The snarling of the beast followed, with several more shouts from the person before you.

Unbeknownst to you at the time this was to become the mother of your Fodlan family. She was quite strong. One has to have such strength to survive so deep in Faerghus. She would call out to you, pleading with you not to sleep, as she carried you home to her wife and several of their kids.

Their kindness brought you guilt when you had to lie to them upon waking. A sympathetic, “oh no!” Or two as you told them a story you had come up with during your time on the ship. Your family lived on the outskirts of the region, but a legion of bandits ascended upon the town and set fire to it all, and your family sent you out of your charred home to escape into the woods. But you had a friend from home who had just gone off to the officer's academy, so you had planned to meet up with your only neighbor that lived by joining the semester that overlaps his.

Claude had once brought you to a theatre, where you watched a play together and the two of you proceeded to spend months learning how to fake cry. He wasn’t so good at it, but it became a tactic that you used here. Again, you felt bad, truly you did, especially when they pitched in some money after you had worked several jobs to afford the officer's academy. They had taken up a few jobs for you too, and every time it comes to mind your eyes water.

They were kind people and truly hold a place in your heart. So much, so that you write a letter to them at least once a month, especially before missions.

———-

Only, in Claude’s dream, upon reaching Faerghus from Almyra, your fake back story became true in these later times. In his dream, upon trying to run from a camp invaded by bandits, you were grabbed and there were too many for you to fight on your own.

But you were alone, and out of his reach. Crying out as they dragged you to the duke of the alliance’s doorstep. You had been figured out after being held by these bandits and brought before the hand of judgment for crossing the border. He couldn’t expose himself to save you, and even if he wanted to, he knew you wouldn’t let him. He cares for you deeply, and you are his everyday priority, but he can’t put you above his goal. You both knew that.

Fear and adrenaline pulse through him as he thinks maybe he could figure out something else, he couldn’t let this happen to you. He can’t lose you! But before he could even begin strategizing you were sentenced to public execution. His stomach dropped, and his head hurt. This is wrong, this can’t be happening.

But in front of his wide and teary eyes, there you were. Claude could do nothing but stare as-

You walked into the room and closed the door with your foot which made it slam. Claude jumped and his eyes flew open, wildly looking around the room and processing. He watched as you set down your bags, he supposed that maybe you were out in the shops. His body shakes at the memories his mind came up with. Claude recalls having similar thoughts and dreams before.

A deep-rooted doubt surfaces once again. One that makes him pull on a mask, even in front of you. He fears being caught. He fears that even though you change your hair and words and actions to one that someone from Faerghus would have, they would figure out you had known Claude far longer. This outcome would cause the loss of you and his dreams.

He can’t help but overthink the outcome. His mind screams at him to run from you, keep you away. Keep you safe and his dreams alive.

Even now as you turn and smile at him, with such genuine care, he wants to run even as his heart feels the warmth of your gaze. He wants to go back to pretending he doesn’t know you.

He flashes you a smile, one that he doesn’t use for you. “Hey! Uh, Byleth wants to see you.” He says, getting up from the bed and stretching, trying to stay cool so that you remain none the wiser. Claude smiles once more before he leaves your dorm.

You still your movements, shocked that that just happened.

[silmarwentelrunya]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Oh no, I've been hit with the self-promo beam! I need to think. It's almost 8 am I don't want to thing, I say thinking over my answers. Also everything is gonna be Dimiclaude cause I only write one thing. xD

Chasing Ghosts (Dimitri/Claude, 53558, M) This is my masterpiece, my dimiclaude long fic that I adore! A what if Claude was kidnapped by TWSiTD during the 5 year timeskip golden route-ish fic. Also contains wonderful art as a banner for each chapter.

To Catch a Fallen Star (Dimitri/Claude, 49502, E) My dimiclaude bigbang piece which I also love and I love the wonderful art that got done for it too! A dimiclaude demons and angels au with demon Dimitri and angel Claude and the friends they make along the way.

Of Mask and Marriage (Dimitri/Claude, 4452, G) A short masquerade and arranged marriage dimiclaude piece that I love dearly.

No Need to Say Goodbye (Dimitri/Claude, 4461, E) Mer-au dimiclaude where Dimitri is a pirate and Claude the merman he rescues and they fall in love. :3

To Light A Dark Sky (Dimitri/Claude, 4360, G) A fairy tale au dimiclaude where Dimitri goes on an adventure to save the Sun god from a Mage who years ago stole the Moon god from the sky and runs into Claude along the way.

[angst-in-space]

wip....thursday!!

i was tagged by @zenstrike - ty zen!! 💖 technically i guess a late wip wednesday, and also zen tagged me last week too and i forgot to post anything lol so here is a wip at last! i’m bad at tagging people but if you want to want to participate then go ahead 👍

anyway here’s a bit from sylvix pacific rim au... for context, this is before sylvain and felix pair up, and felix and ingrid try to drift together and it goes... Very Badly LOL. anyway cw for some implied death/violence (not described in detail or anything).

The sky flickered—a stutter like a lightbulb about to burn out. The water shifted and blurred. The placid water darkened and churned into a raging sea, and—

“Glenn!” 

His own voice this time, but deeper. Older. Raw in this throat. Wracked with pain.

Pain, everywhere. Unimaginable agony ripping through his veins and seizing his limbs as his brother’s presence—his very soul—was torn away.

Aegis’s haul was ripped wide open and rain slashed down. Outside, the kaiju roared—a horrific blur of yellow eyes and razor sharp teeth and claws and—

Glenn… he was in the monster’s clutches, far out of Felix’s reach. All Felix could do was scream until his chest ached with it, a raw cry of fury and agony as the connection to his brother snapped, as the unbearable weight of drifting alone slammed down on him—

A new surge of pain sang through his skull, but it was different this time. More like a sudden jolt. Like a strong magnet repelling him. 

Other sounds broke through, splintering the memory apart: A frantic, incessant beeping from inside his helmet. A voice—Claude’s, he was pretty sure—saying something in a rush, something Felix couldn’t quite make out except “... out of alignment.”

The scenery came back into focus in painful, colorful bursts. He was back in Aegis’s hull, his holographic controls flashing red in front of him. The back of his skull throbbed like he’d received a powerful blow to the head. Nearby, someone was gasping loudly for breath. Ingrid.

Felix’s whole body was numb, but he managed to wrench himself free from his controls—like he could physically rip himself away from the remnants of memory. He’d almost forgotten how real it all felt—and also how horrible a failed drift felt, like the contents of his head had been slashed to bits and rearranged in the wrong order.

He fought to suck air into his lungs. A cold bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Even if he’d escaped from it for now, the horrific memory of Glenn’s death still gripped him in his clutches.

Then the guilt knocked into him, like a punch straight to the sternum. 

He turned to Ingrid, his head swimming as he struggled to think what to say. He was sorry, he’d fallen too deep into the memory, he’d thrown them both out of alignment...

The words died on his tongue when he saw the look on Ingrid’s face. Her skin had gone white as a sheet. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused at first—then the horror set in. Almost like she was scared of Felix himself.

[francis-writes]

CW: Death mentioned.

This is a very weird thought but I have been thinking about Watcher AU Claude Frollo.

So Watchers are essentially a demi-god like creature within Minecraft fan lore, more specifically Minecraft Youtuber fan lore, stemming from Grian. It’s also interesting that Watchers’ Biblical reference implies that Watcher!Frollo is a sort of fallen angel.

Watchers created a world in which people have three lives. (Yes this is a 3rd Life SMP series AU lol) When people are on their last life, they become bloodthirsty and hostile. Watchers created the world to prey on the anguish from all the betrayals and all the bloodshed. Watcher!Frollo, craving human connection, decided to go against Watchers’ code and joined the world himself (watchers are forbidden to interfere their own creation).

So in my little Minecraft YouTube series rip-off AU, Frollo met other Disney villains there. The villains have no magical powers other than anything Minecraft mechanics grant them (including Frollo, who was one of the creators of this cursed world). Frollo accidentally shot Jafar (on his 1st life) to death when Jafar was chased down by a pack of skeletons. He felt guilty over this, deciding to “serve his life” to Jafar until Frollo loses his first life as well.

……then Jafar accidentally jumped off an cliff and there goes his second life. Frollo is forced to become a mercenary of rampaging Jafar (last life curse), thinking to himself every day that creating this cursed world and joining it himself is the worst idea ever while doing all the killing, torturing, and burning with Jafar. The duo is chaotic and unstoppable despite Jafar foolishly threw his first two lives and Frollo is basically his reluctant sidekick and they secretly hate each other and it’s toxic relationship at it finest but they can’t leave each other.

When Frollo eventually lost his own first life with an arrow to his heart at a worldwide war, his first reaction is not “screw it, I finally lost my first life so by my own promise, I am FREE from Jafar”……NOPE he goes straight back to their base in the desert for another mayhem and more tnt minecarts.

Thank you again for my weird fan fic idea. I know your blog normally don’t do non-romantic ideas here, but still want to share with you.

Thanks for sharing! It's very interesting, even though I am not a specialist in terms on Minecraft (I'm more a sims person and recently I made Frollo a serial killer in my little sims world but nvm)

Also... Frollo and Jafar is literally my favourite duo. I have them both on my wallpaper. I don't know what do they have in common (old evil men?) but I always like to think about them working together... or just annoying each other

[beezonia]

I can’t stop thinking about a fe3h cuphead au.

Like, shez and her twin brother Shen are cuphead and mugman respectively and end up getting caught in a deal with the ashen demons rulers of hell under inkwell isle.

So with the help of Lady Rhea of Gareg Mach and her league of Seiros they have to collect the souls of the three gangs that reside on the different islands.

The blue lions - The Northen isles

Leader - Dimitri

His battle is called “The Two faced tournament” and he changes from pre to post skip Dimitri in three sections of the battle.

You have proper noble Dimitri first, then the slightly feral Dimitri and finally absolutely insane Dimitri at the end.

It’s set in like a snowy mountain type landscape idk.

To face him you have to defeat each member in any order (apart from Dedue cause he has to protect Dimitri from the twins)

The Golden Deer - Eastern Isles

Leader - Claude.

His battle is named “The storm of torment/Arrow of the verdant sky” you face him in a oasis sort of area and his three phases are like him and his bow shaping into different weapons.

And finally

The black eagles - The southern isles

Leader - Edelgard

Her battle is named “The Hegemon husks final dance or The Eagles fallen solider” you face her slowly turning into her hegemon form each phase and she utterly destroys her own weapons in the battle.

Now before they face the Ashen Demons you first have to flight the now known as Church of Seiros before you can get to the twins due to Rhea needing them to stay alive to keep Sothis safe.

[dmclemblems]

I'll ask you 1 and 2 in return! :D

Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

I don't know if I'd rewrite it completely, but my first chaptered dmcl fic, probably mostly. The worst part is that it's still ongoing but I don't have the willpower to redo 33k words. I'll probably do minor tweaks or something at some point, but there's a lot of it I'm unhappy with. It's a CF AU and I still want to go with that plot, but

I was trying to stay true to at least part of CF... which meant... Rodrigue died. 0/10 do not recommend.

Ingrid also died but I'm more distraught that I let Rodrigue die and I may never be whole again.

I don't think I focused enough on Claude slipping up with his identity (barring his real name). While it technically would happen the same way, I don't think I put enough... weight to how much Love Made Him Stupid. I was planning to focus on it in the upcoming chapter, but I really think it comes across as a bit less of a big deal to him than I intended for it to. Basically Dimitri wanted everyone to know they were together, and with it being the first time Claude had fallen in love, he was less alert about politics and such, because woooo new feelings and Dimi accepting him no matter what, so he felt more fearless about it. After it was out in the open he ends up regretting it and talks to Lorenz about it in the chapter that is currently a wip, but my main issue with all of it overall is that I feel like I glossed over the fact that Claude let himself go, which was because he wanted Dimitri to be happy and he felt like between the two of them that they could actually get to the future Claude was fighting for. It was basically like... he felt like it could actually happen for sure now, and he's intentionally (by the writing, not from his perspective) supposed to drop the bomb too early than he would actually be comfortable with. Like, you wanna do something and you actually believe for that moment that you can, but you forget patience because something made you motivated and happy for it and you just kinda ??? fuckin oopsie ??? So yeah, that... has kinda been part of what has kept me from continuing that fic for so long now lmao. I wanted to fill in those gaps before continuing with the fic because they feel too important to leave out.

I wanted to implement Sylvix into the fic more than I have so far. I mean okay sure, it's only three chapters so far so it's not like I don't have time, but I was worried about my wordcount and cut an entire Dimitri+Sylvix bonding scene over them anguishing about Ingrid and Rodrigue. I kept part of it, but I chopped out a pretty decent chunk. I might still write it in a later chapter, but I wish I'd done it when I'd originally planned to.

Rodrigue tho.

Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

Darker, more mature themed AUs. Things probably bordering on dead dove, maybe not quite, but the thing stopping me is that I keep being like, no, I have to write everyone in character. Obviously that prevents me from going past certain boundaries, because in my mind if it feels ooc (even if it's not by the context of the fic), I start backtracking. If I can't find a probable way for something to happen then I usually don't write it. Unfortunately in this case pretty much any instance of dead dove or anything bordering that for most characters in the Fodlan series would be ooc anyway technically, and it keeps me from actually writing any ideas.

I can read that stuff just fine and I enjoy fics I've read that definitely ignore canonical personality boundaries, but for some reason I still struggle to write those things.

Honestly, anything that feels ooc is a struggle to write, and by ooc I don't mean just their characterization or personality, but things they would or wouldn't do. think like, i don't know, byleth as a telemarketer. i would have no idea how do that. now yuri, i could make him a telemarketer, but byleth? confusion. but hey, maybe you could write a telemarketer yuri calls byleth and that's how they met and hooked up jfkhsiuftg

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

You know a short oneshot that has an interesting idea for a Fallen!Claude AU? "Something From Nothing" by Buddythemeanpeacock. Dunno if you ever read it, but basically: Claude - or Khalid in this case, since he never has to go by Claude - has become so hardened by his life in Almyra that he has a genuinely hard time parsing what emotions he's feeling due to becoming so numb from everything he's had to do to become king (with a lot of those things he's done not being Very Nice).

The fic itself is more implicative with that idea than outright delving into it, with it's focus being more on the dmcl aspect of that idea (and being set in FEH, with Khalid thinking about Dimitri and the way he views Khalid), but it'd be kind of neat if anyone were to explore that idea a bit more 👀

AO3 user BuddyTheMeanPeacock my motherfucking beloved. Their stuff is so so so good, hands down one of my favourite dimiclaude authors 😭🙏🏻

I'm a sucker for Claude fics with that trope. I'm chewing on the idea of writing one (very far down the line) as we speak. That's a complete 180 I'd love to see for his character, where the inciting incident of his character arc as we know it (years of attempted murder and abuse amalgamating in the decision to yeet over the border to see What's Up) is either twisted or removed altogether. You still get the same core dude (wants respect, if not love; is tired of being hated for Existing, etc) but with a completely different output. I love it. I love it I love it I love it.

I actually read the fic right now because I have no self-control, and it's just--UGH it is so fucking good. This passage hits so hard, and it boggles my puny little writer's mind that the whole thing is as beautifully written as this is:

If anyone posed a danger to his life he would kill them. Be they stranger or kin, covered in rags or dragged by riches. He has done this - he has told the king this. His Claude may well be a myth, for all that he was him, could ever be him.

[piasgermany]

[Album] Alan Palomo veröffentlicht Solo-Debütalbum "World of Hassle" am 15. September!

Alan Palomo, Musiker und Produzent hinter dem langjährigen Avant-Pop-Projekt Neon Indian, hat seine erste Veröffentlichung unter eigenem Namen angekündigt. Das Solo-Debütalbum "World of Hassle" wird am 15. September über Transgressive erscheinen.

Eigentlich sollte ein neues und viertes Neon Indian-Album erscheinen, an dem Palomo schon einige Skizzen ausgearbeitet hatte. Der selbst auferlegte kreative Arbeitsprozess erwies sich aber eher als Maulkorb und die Arbeit geriet nach einigen Wochen bereits ins Stocken. Ehe die Pandemie ausbrach, Deadlines verstrichen und der kreative Faden vorerst fallen gelassen wurde und dann endgültig ins Trudeln geriet. Palomo warf die angesammelten Skizzen und auch seinen Bandnamen über Bord und startete komplett bei null. "I said what I'd wanted to say with that project", erzählt der Texaner, der sich für die neuen Produktionen selber das Klavierspielen beibrachte und auch dadurch in unerwartete musikalische Richtungen gedrängt wurde.

"World of Hassle" ist ein lebendiges Album, das die Zuhörer*innen in eine leicht surreale Dimension voller Angst und Nostalgie entführt, in der Jazz-Funk und breitschultrige Claude-Montana-Anzüge nie aus der Mode gekommen sind und die Kälte des Kalten Krieges, die Leonard Cohens "I’m Your Man"  durchdrungen hat, nie so ganz verschwunden ist. Die 13 Songs sind ein dichter, komplexer Ort, vollgepackt mit träumerisch-absurden Charakteren und Situationen - Guerilla-Freiheitskämpfer, die in "The Wailing Mall" in einem Regenwald-Café kampieren, traurige Ex-Popstars in "The Return of Mickey Milan" oder tropische Fantasien in "Nudista Mundial ’89 (feat. Mac DeMarco)".

Die spürbare Unruhe mit ihrer bunten Klangpalette ist dabei vollständig dem goldenen Zeitalter der 80er-Jahre entlehnt, als Rockstars wie Bryan Ferry und Sting als jazzige Solomusiker durchstarteten. Das Album ist eine Parodie auf die Egotrips dieser Koryphäen, den Größenwahn Amerikas und unsere eigene Selbstbesessenheit. Aber zwischendurch wird es ist auch todernst, wenn die Weltuntergangsuhr ihren Höchststand aus der Reagan-Ära überschritten hat und die Angst vor einem Atomkrieg genauso präsent ist, wie digitale Synthesizer und schrille Saxophonsoli. Je tiefer es einen in seine eigene unheimliche Realität hineinzieht, desto deutlicher wird allerdings auch, wie sehr eigentlich die Grenzen zwischen Alan Palomos Traumwelt und unserer eigenen mittlerweile verschwommen sind.

Tracklist "World of Hassle": 01. The Wailing Mall 02. Meutrière (feat. Flore Benguigui) 03. La Madrileña 04. Nudista Mundial ‘89 (feat. Mac DeMarco) 05. The Return of Mickey Milan 06. Stay-At-Home DJ 07. Club People 08. Alibi for Petra 09. Nobody’s Woman 10. Is There Nightlife After Death? 11. Big Night of Heartache 12. The Island Years 13. Trouble In Mind

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[ausaplenty]

Paperwork

Aziraphale Kiara. Crowley LiLi. Ineffable AU

This was going to mean a mountain of paperwork if it didn’t work.

She fussed at a spot on her skirt, massaging the dirt out of the ivory brocade.

Kiara jumped as the thud of a blade meeting bone and flesh echoed through her cell. The manacles felt heavy on her wrists, binding her to the rough walls. She flinched at the thunderous cheer filled the square outside.

The jangle of keys drew her attention to the cell door, a robust man in a scarlet overcoat and a sash in the colors of the French flag draped over his chest. He spoke in French, gesturing to the exuberance outside her jail.

The blonde frowned, maybe slightly cursing her terrible grasp of the language.

“Ah, excuse moi,” Kiara started, recoiling as the man reached for the chains linking her wists. “C’est un grandeur … errr mistake.”

Rising to her feet to address the newcomer, she put a bit more space between them. She opened her mouth to continue to plead her case but he held up a hand to silence her.

“I speak English,” he offered bemusedly. A new clamor of blade and exuberance drew both their gazes to her window. “Listen to that. The fall of the guillotine blade. It is terrible, no?”

“Yes,” Kiara muttered in sympathy. “Cutting off that poor woman’s head. Terrible.”

“It is Pierre, an amateur,” her jailor explained. “Always, he lets go of the rope too soon.”

The angel rolled her steely eyes.

“You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude, who will be separating your traitorous head from your shoulders.”

Really, celebrating your role in a murder. Uncouth, to say the least – downright barbaric to do so with the level of glee. If Lilian did not appear soon, Kiara would have to abandon the ruse and then this whole debacle would have been for naught.

“There has been a terrible mistake,” Kiara interjected. “I don’t think you understand –“

“I have good news,” the executioner – Jean-Claude – told her jovially. “You are the 999th aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand … but the first English.”

The blonde gave a tight, polite smile.

“Now … shall we begin?” he said, moving behind her as his hands shifted to her neck.

“Please. No.” Kiara darted away from him, glaring at him indignantly. “Dreadful mistake, discorporating me. Oh, it’ll be a complete nightmare.”

The paperwork alone would take her months to finish.

The guillotine crashes. The crowd cheers. And the executioner chuckles as he looks out the window, his hands lifted as he stilled unnaturally.

“Animals,” she scoffed.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, Angel, only humans do that,” a familiar voice drawled.

“Lilian!”

The blonde wouldn’t stop the delighted smile that spread across her face, but she quickly controlled it as she turned around. The demon was lounging on a stool by the cell door, her hand draped over her knee in dark garb marking her as a revolutionary – a chance for Kiara to mask her joy with disapproval at the choice.

“Oh, good lord,” Kiara tsked, ignoring the pleased lilt on the demon’s lips.

“What the deuce are you doing locked up in the bastille?” Lilian pressed while she straightened. “I thought you were opening a gallery.”

“I was!” she tittered indignantly, shifting from one foot to the other. “I got peckish.”

“Peckish?” The word was incredulous.

The angel rolled her eyes. “Well, if you must know, it was the crepes.”

She paced back to the wooden bench in the center of the cell, the chains rattling with every step.

“You can’t get decent ones outside of Paris,” she explained sheepishly as she sat. She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “And the brioche.”

And a certain inkling that at the center of all this turmoil, she’d find one fallen angel to dine with her.

“So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution because you wanted a nibble,” the demon drawled, languidly gesturing to the angel’s ivory outfit. “Wearing that?”

“I have standards,” Kiara sniffed, smoothing the panel over her corset. “I’d heard they were getting a bit carried away over here but –“

“Yeah, this is not getting carried away. This is cutting off lots of people’s heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine,” Lilian interrupted. “Why didn’t you just perform another miracle and go home?”

“If you must know, I was reprimanded last month,” the blonde supplied quietly. “They said I’d performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel.”

She’d been especially stringent with herself in the weeks leading up to this excursion, working to make sure the higher ups didn’t have cause to do an audit.

“Well, you’re lucky I was in the area, then,” the dark-haired woman teased dryly.

Yes. Lucky.

“I suppose I am,” Kiara admitted. “What are you doing in here?”

Lilian looked away. “My lot gave me a commendation for excellent job performance.”

Kiara’s eyes widened. “So all this is your demonic work?” she pushed as she rose to her feet, glancing out the window where the world had frozen.

That didn’t make sense. Lilian’s machinations were never specifically bloody (Job’s kids and his children were a technically – the demon hadn’t actually harmed a hair on their bodies, save for a little mental scarring and Kiara’s nagging suspicion that the youngest of Job had spent years trying to scale walls once again.) And this was brutality, raw and swift.

“No, the humans thought it up themselves,” Lilian answered. “Nothing to do with me. I told you, clever machines to kill each other.”

She snapped her fingers and the manacles dropped from Kiara’s body, clattering on the stone floor. With a small noise of relief, Kiara started massaging her wrists.

“Well, I suppose I should say thank you for the um … rescue,” the blonde said.

Lilian rose gracefully and fluidly from her seat. “Don’t say that. If my people hear that I rescued an angel, I’ll be the one in trouble and my people … do not send rude notes.”

“Well, either way, I’m very grateful,” Kiara retorted. “What about if I buy you lunch?”

“Looking like that?” A smile tugged at the demon’s lips.

Kiara sighed, scrunching her nose in distaste as she miracled the executioner’s clothes onto her body and vice versa. “Well, it barely counts as a miracle, really,” she commented, stepping shoulder-to-shoulder with Lilian.

The demon raised her hands and snapped her fingers, letting the world start to turn again as the executioner continued his statement.

Realization dawned on Jean-Claude as his hands touched the finery now adorning his body and the guards strode through the door to escort him out.

“Dressed like that, he’s asking for trouble,” Lilian drawled sardonically. “What’s for lunch?”

A mischievous smirk danced across the angel’s face. “What would you say to some crepes?”

~*~

“So tell me, Angel, what really brought you to this hotbed of turmoil and sin?” Lilian asked as she pulled the knife through the crepe with an ease that belied the strength in the action.

“I told you, it was the crepes,” the angel insisted. She fiddled with her own utensils.

“Oh come off it, you and I both know that you could have popped in and out before any of those bumbling fools noticed you,” Lilian retorted as she took a bite. She stabbed the air between them with her now-empty fork. “No, I’m betting there was something else.”

“It could be crepes,” Kiara muttered. “You know I’ve always been fond of them.”

Before humans had had proper time to devote to art and leisure and were toiling all day in the fields, foods had been her gateway temptation, with Lilian and Kiara sneaking away from their realm’s gazes to partake in whatever new delicacy the demon had stumbled upon.

“Yes, I suppose, but I know you’re fonder yet of fine art and, in particular, several rarer pieces that I know for a fact were housed in the palace of King Louie XVI and his … extravagant wife. That would be perfect tinder for a mob’s bonfire,” the demon drawled with a knowing smirk. She leaned across the table, her glasses sliding lower on the bridge of her nose so she could peer at the blonde. “Have you been looting the palace, Angel?”

Kiara fidgeted in her seat, stabbing a strawberry with an unnecessary amount of force. “Well, I couldn’t just let them be destroyed.”

“That’s positively sinful of you,” Lilian cackled as she threw back her head.

The blonde blushed, feeling the flush creep up her cheeks. “It’s not really! I’m not keeping it for myself or anything so … selfish. I’m redistributing it to people who could have potentially owned it if the piece’s previous owners had been aware of the peril!”

“You say tomato, I say breaking a commandment,” the demon teased. “Thou shall not steal, Angel…”

She should have been more affronted by a demon’s insult to her honor, but this was Lilian.

“Well, I couldn’t sit back and allow another Alexandria situation. All that precious knowledge – gone forever,” Kiara rationalized before she took a bite. She closed her eyes in delight as the taste hit her tongue. “I told you no where makes them like Paris.”

“Would it be worth all the paperwork if you’d have been discorporated?” Lilian prodded, her eyes gleaming playfully.

Seeing Lilian was worth the paperwork. The crepes were just a nice bonus.