#original outline compliant

[thelustybraavosimaid]

"...Jon!"

"Arya," he snapped his head up and leaned back in his seat. He eyed her suspiciously. "You heard, haven't you?"

"It's all Robb wanted to talk about to everyone," she pressed her lips together, plopping down with a huff. "And now they're all talking about it. The next person who calls you the Black Bastard of the Wall is going to get a clout on the ear."

"Robb and his big mouth." She vaguely heard Jon laughing but it died as quick as it came. "Still, I wish you had heard from me first. Are you going to try and stop me?"

"No," Arya said, much to his unhidden surprise. She brushed her fingers over his knuckles, finding some semblance of reassurance in the familiar dark grey of his eyes. She found herself praying he wouldn't sense the doubt coiling in the pit of her stomach. "I think you should go. This is something you've wanted for...for a while now. You told me before that you were going to do something important with your life..."

But then I used to cling to you and tell you to never leave me. You always kissed my forehead and rustled my hair and said you weren't going anywhere without me. But now...what happens, Jon? What do we do?

Jon didn't respond, and the silence dragged until all she could hear was her breath.

"...and this would be the best way to go about that, right? What kind of person would I be to stop you from getting what you want?"

"You're...the only person who could," Jon finally said, filling his goblet with wine he stole from the kitchens before he drank some, offering the rest to Arya. "Are you sure--"

"I, uh...know you're worried about me. Worried that I wouldn't be able to bear it...but trust me, Jon. I'll be fine. You'll be okay, and I'll be okay, and, eventually, we'll see each other again soon." She looked at the gift he had made for her, just for her. The gift that they named together...Needle. The representation of all that she had...and all she could lose. "...I could always send you a raven when I'm feeling the distance."

Were the words calmer than she felt?

"You can. And I'll try to respond as often as I can, I promise." His smile was strange. Was it sadness or resolve? She did not know, but she welcomed him placing his forehead against hers, their breaths slowed and in sync. He held up his hand and Arya spread her fingers apart and filled the open spaces, curling her fingers as he had done the same. The heat of his hand warmed her cool digits. "This is for the best, little sister. I'm glad you understand."

But I don't. She held her tongue, sitting with him in silence. The minutes passed by, and the quiet was almost stifling. She looked down at the stupid light blue dress her mother had picked out for her and crumpled the fabric in her fists. I don't want to understand.

[yesimwriting]

Understanding

Part 2:  Untethered  

A/n the reader in this is not the same reader as the one from my aemond fic, they just have a similar background for plot (and bc i love rhaenyra's child x alicent's child trope, it's so montagues and capulets)

Summary: After speaking to his mother and small council, Aegon begins to doubt the unspoken understanding between himself and Rhaenyra's intended heir, who agreed to be taken by the greens in exchange for her brother's life.

Warnings: there are some plot deviations (mainly the implication that aegon and helaena are not married), the whole ethical 'dating someone you're technically holding hostage' dilemma, and canon compliant incest

----

The groan of the floorboards takes its time floating through your apartments, the sound so soft you don't even stir.

Aegon sighs. You've been a ridiculously heavy sleeper since childhood. He can still recall the way you'd leave these very apartments for breakfast, hair unbrushed and eyes drowsy. He dismisses the thought as he takes another step forward. You're no longer a princess with the luxury of leisure. You're staying in what you consider 'enemy territory'. One would think you'd have the decency to struggle to find sleep. If nothing else, the decency to miss him.

He swallows. Thoughts of the corner of your mouth tugging itself into a smile you didn't mean to share, of your gentle whispers felt more than heard in the darkness, of the warmth of your fingertips dragging against his skin have plagued him since he left you this morning. Aegon has not been able to release you from his mind, and here you are, perfectly content without him in a room you are only allowed access to because of his favor.

If you continue to indulge her, she'll never feel like a prisoner. The echo of his mother's words feel sharper than they should, a needle piercing his chest. Aegon had originally dismissed the sentiment. Despite the complicated nature of your presence here, the two of you have found a sort of rhythm. An inconvenient understanding.

So what if he offers you privileges that none of his half-sister's children should be allotted? You dismiss your instincts in favor of being there for him in a way no one else is. You talk; and you listen; and you lay next to him in the dark, your fingers tracing patterns against his arm until you fall asleep.

Aegon had never felt affronted by the casualness of your unspoken arrangement until his mother brought him back to reality. As long as you allow her to exist in this in between without asking for anything in return, she will remain loyal to her mother. A mother who is desperate enough to marry her off to secure alliances.

The floor creeks as he takes another step forward, this time the sound less dismissible. You shift, body twisting as you move from your stomach onto your side.

A pinprick of something akin to guilt dulls the beginning of his spiral. You mumble a sound that feels like a question. Aegon studies your movements as you wipe at your eyes. You lift your head slightly, eyes squinting in the darkness.

"Aegon?" Your features seem to ease, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as you lift your head. "I didn't think you had time for me tonight."

There's a gentleness to your voice that leaves his stomach in knots. He's lapped at your affection like a wounded dog finally stumbling onto water. Has it all been a ploy?

If his silence affects your disposition, you give no indication of it. Instead, you beam at him before allowing yourself to slump onto your back. You pull at the blankets in an attempt to create space for him.

Aegon keeps his back to you as he sits. He takes his time laying down, one of his arms resting in the space between the two of you. Still half asleep, you reach for him. The back of your palm brushes against his wrist. You turn your hand over, fingers beginning their familiar path up his arm.

His eyes remain open, his attention set on the ceiling. You've yet to finish outlining his forearm before Aegon's turning his arm. The shift is subtle, more of an implication than an actual attempt at dismissing you. The subtlety of the movement is not enough to prevent your reaction. Despite his jokes and teasing comments, Aegon knows better than to do anything that offers you an opportunity to overthink about your your time alone together. There's a moment of stillness, and then your hand leaves him.

You turn onto your side, the weight of your stare making it nearly impossible for Aegon to remain still. "Are you--are you alright?" The question is cautious, tinged by an uncertainty that makes you sound smaller than you ever have before.

Have you ever experienced any type of rejection before? You're Rhaenyra's first born, her intended heir. The beloved princess, doted on by your mother, cared for by your supposed father, spoiled by your grandsire. His father's illness was never enough to keep him from you, the only child he had the strength to get out of bed for. You don't know what it's like to long for anything.

"We had an arrangement--an agreement." Aegon pushes himself away from you as he sits. You prop your head up, staring at him. Aegon cannot bring himself to look into your eyes. "That I'd be honest with you, and you'd be honest with me."

You sit up. "What?" You bend your knees, the sheets slipping down your legs. Aegon presses his nails into the skin of his palm. "I've--I've been honest. I've never lied to you."

The defense comes out so quick and innocent it nearly strips the accusation of any weight. It's a response that'd better suit a child caught stealing extra sweets or rough housing with a younger sibling.

He finally turns his head. The room's lack of light is not enough to diminish your wide eyes. You're radiating such innocence Aegon could choke on it. He's reminded of why he kept you at arm's length throughout your childhood. The good, perfect daughter. The future heir.

"You said your mother had no intentions of marrying you off. That you were not betrothed--"

"I'm not."

Aegon lets out a breath. "Then why did I have to spend most of my evening listening to my small council discuss your mother's latest potential alliances and addressing rumors about your mother's plan to marry you to some lord as a way of securing their support?"

You're quiet for a moment, hands clasped tightly around your knees. "I cannot help rumors." Some odd feeling gnaws at Aegon's stomach. "And you know that I haven't been home in some time. I can't control my mother anymore than you can control yours."

What a politically appropriate answer. He scoffs. "I find it difficult to believe that your mother would ever use you as a bargaining chip without--at the very least--mentioning it to you first."

If there's one thing that doesn't come naturally to you, it's deception. You tilt your chin downwards, your attention falling onto anything that isn't him.

Aegon reaches for your hand. You let him untangle your fingers. He pulls your hand forward, his thumb dragging against your knuckles. His hold on you tightens as he brings the back of your palm to his lips. A part of him is repulsed by how much he means the gesture.

He doesn't let go of you as he brings his hand back to the mattress. Aegon allows himself a moment to embrace the stillness, and then he's shifting forward. His available hand finds your shoulder. His weight presses against you, forcing you back until you're pinned against the headboard.

He holds his breath, waiting for some kind of protest, some insult or attempt to push him away. All you do is watch him, the slightest crease between your eyebrows. "Aegon."

"Tell me." Aegon's fingers press into your shoulder. "Tell me it isn't true and I will believe you. I want to believe you."

Your lips part, but you do not speak. An uncomfortable heat burns its way up his neck. "I--I did not lie." You hold his gaze. "I am not betrothed, but before I was brought here, my mother did mention that she was beginning to consider it."

All of the time he's spent indulging in your presence, living out some ridiculous fantasy of having your attention, believing everything you've told him--he's been nothing more than a fool.

"I wanted to mention it when you asked, but I was..." Your voice wavers. "Honestly, I was afraid."

His gaze falls downwards, his eyes unintentionally landing on your lips. "Because you needed me."

"No." You shake your head slightly, the motion rigid. "Our understanding," you pause, lips briefly pressing together, "Our friendship, was so new and uncertain--and I was afraid of ruining it, of being alone here, of--of the potential engagement. All of it." Your eyes are shinier than they were a moment ago. "I wanted to pretend it didn't exist."

This is the first time you've ever given any indication of not naturally taking to your responsibilities. You agreed to be taken hostage in exchange for your brother's life with little complaint or theatrical martyrism, but the thought of marrying a stranger to aid your mother's war effort shakes you to your core.

Sympathy and petulant satisfaction blend together uneasily, a continuation in the cycle of wanting you while also desiring to take everything from you.

His thumb drags down your shoulder, the warmth of your skin nearly dizzying. "Would you do it if she asked?"

You swallow. "It wouldn't matter. I'm here." He continues to trace a pattern against your shoulder. You squeeze his hand. "You can't have a wedding without the bride."

You're holding onto him with an intensity that's easing. "And if you weren't?"

As silence falls over the two of you, Aegon studies your expression. You're giving him very little to work with. "I wouldn't have a choice." Anything you've had with him has been out of the sake of convenience. It doesn't matter to you. "Aegon, you--you understand that." His lips part, but he has no response worth giving. "You have to understand that."

Aegon's hold on your hand tightens, fingers digging into into the skin of your palm. "Why?" The desperation in the question turns his stomach. He shifts his weight away from you, his hand trailing down your arm. "Do you care for me?"

Your straighten, back pulling away from the headboard. Aegon cannot will himself to read your features. "Do I care for you?" There's a barely there lilt to your voice that only makes it impossible for him to just sit there.

He forces himself to focus on the crumpled sheets in front of him. Something warm finds its way to his cheek--your hand. Your thumb drags itself across the side of his face. Aegon allows his eyes to fall shut. Gently, you guide his head forward.

"Aegon." He opens his eyes. "How many times have I been alone with you, have I--have I slept in the same bed as you?" You stumble, eyes briefly leaving his. Aegon can't help his slight smile. While you've always known about the impropriety of sleeping next to him, he doubts you know why it's viewed that way. You let out a breath in an attempt to recover. "I have risked my reputation, risked betraying my own mother--and you have to ask."

Aegon's vision blurs. He presses his lips together, forcing himself to not look away. "Of course I care for you."

He places a hand over the one you placed on his cheek. There's a lot of responses that Aegon should offer you, some declaration, some assurance of his fondness for you, but he's never been particularly talented at expressing the sentimental.

His fingers bend around your own, carefully pulling your hand away from his cheek. He sets your hand down on the mattress gently. You blink at him curiously, but before you can overthink the action, Aegon's shifting forward.

He presses his lips against yours. You're rigid, body still until he pulls your bottom lip between both of his. Aegon moves closer, one hand finding the back of your head. You lean forward, arms wrapping around his neck. You move your weight onto your knees, Aegon's available hand coming to your waist to keep you stable.

Aegon's head tilts back, creating space that you're more than ready to fill. His teeth tug at your bottom lip. You hands slide away from his neck, down his shoulders, settling on his chest. Aegon's hand moves away from your hip, coming to rest on your thigh.

The need for air brings him back to reality. Aegon breaks the kiss slowly, pulling away without letting you go. For a moment, all he can do is grin at you as you both catch your breath. "If I had known you had it in you, Princess..."

The use of your title seems to make you realize that you're still practically on his lap. You move back, making a point of sitting up straight. You roll your eyes, but between your ragged breaths and inability to lift your gaze, the look falls flat.

You keep your legs between the two of you, a barrier that bends at your knees. Aegon's smile broadens. He's not sure he's ever seen you so unsure of yourself. "I--that wasn't..."

"You can relax." You finally look up again, eyebrows drawn together in what he assumes is a display of skepticism. "I won't tell anyone." His hand find your lower leg, fingers tracing a delicate pattern against your skin. "And if anyone accuses you of anything, I'll have their tongue."

He sets his hand against your knee, his touch growing in security. You stare at your leg incredulously. "Aegon."

"What?" His thumb trails across your skin. "Would you prefer their head?"

You tilt your head, expression unamused. Aegon smiles, leaning forward to place a quick kiss against your knee before moving towards his original spot. You turn your head, watching him carefully.

Aegon lets out a sigh as he sinks into a pillow. "I'm tired."

You lay down next to him. "I didn't realize I wore you out."

The grin in your voice is audible. Aegon uses his forearm for support as he lifts himself to lean over you. "Do not start something you can't finish."

The corner of your mouth pulls itself upwards, the look similar but not quite the same as the accidental smiles Aegon has grown accustomed to. He smiles as he lies down, his head resting against your upper stomach.

You're quick to accept the proximity, your hand moving to smooth through his hair. Aegon's arm settles against your waist. This newfound closeness is nearly overwhelming in the relief it offers him. The feeling grabs at him, forcing out words he is not ready to say, "We could always get married." He tries to swallow, but the dryness of his mouth makes it impossible. "Then your mother wouldn't be able to marry you off to anyone."

Your fingers stall against his scalp. "Aegon--"

"I'd be a good husband to you."

At your silence, his fingers press into your side as if you might slip away if given the chance. After a beat, your nails begin to brush through his hair again. "You are thinking of the war, of your claim, of--of your small cou--"

"I am thinking of you."

You let out a sigh Aegon feels more than hears. "We need to be realistic. Would my mother's retaliation not concern you?"

He forces himself to focus on your tangibility. "The only thing concerning me is figuring out how to keep you here as long as possible." He drags his knuckles against your hip. "You once told me that you'd never get married, and that instead you'd spend your life riding dragons and eating cake."

You let out a soft laugh. "I can't believe you remember that."

"You sounded very serious." Aegon releases your side in favor of finding your hand. His fingers trace patterns against your palm. "We could get married and spend our days riding dragons and eating cake."

Your drag your hand away from his head, palm settling against his back. You begin to smooth circles against the fabric of his shirt. "Now you be serious."

Aegon intertwines your fingers, squeezing your palm to his. "I know better than to jest about cake."

You're so quiet he'd assume you fell asleep if it wasn't for the patterns still being traced against his spine. "Can we just...can we give it some time?"

He's not sure what you expect to get from time. The realm will still be divided, his half-sister will only grow more desperate and willing to marry you off for support, and his mother will continue to question why he's keeping you in this limbo. But the request is far from a rejection.

You've always been practical, the kind of person to think through prospects instead of trusting your instinct. Aegon is your best option, the closest thing you have to a lifeline. The way you feel about him has already encouraged you to cross lines you would have never considered approaching. Perhaps time and his attention will be what it takes to put it all into perspective for you.

Aegon lifts your hand to his mouth, his lips brushing against your knuckles. "We can give it all the time you need, Princess."

You mumble something he can't quite make out. Before Aegon can ask about it, your hand stills against him. Without looking up, he knows that you've fallen asleep.

----

A/n i had to throw in a little alicent and rhaenyra parallel <3 i could see myself writing a part 2 to this so if you like that idea lmk!! or if u want more hotd in general :)

[annawayne]

Hi Anna!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!!! And that you have been well 🩷 I wanted to ask you about what your favorite AOT alternate universe is! And if you were to make your own, how would you write it? Sending you hugs!!

Oh, Stella, hello-hello!

Thank you so much for asking, and I had so much fun while answering and thinking about it, so I might accidentally wrote an outline for a fic...

You know, I really love canon-compliant and canon-divergent scenarios, but I have a very weak spot against the historical AUs or mythology AUs. In general, I really love AUs which take canon and transform into AU, without changing the main topic/character arcs too much, but adapting it into the new scneario. And I really love Medieval AU, Ancient Greece AU, 1900-1920's AU, but now, I want to stop on another AU which was sitting in my head for a while, and with your ask, I gave it more thought and structured all these ideas into something more proper, so here I present you -

Here, I want to make a quick disclaimer that I took as a base the whole period as a whole and in my AU, there's the fictional geography which is based on original AoT, but some events are inspired by real historical events and the whole vibe of the epoch. Plus, I focused on some general points of this plot without too much details and it's written more like the outline, rather than some fic (so sorry if it's not very good...)

Far away from home she never saw, Annie is raised by the man who is in slavery, among others people from the conquered lands - but there, in complete secret, they raise their children as Warriors - someone to give revenge for the King bloodline, who sent them there and who conquered their lands.

They worked from a very young age on the fields, and at night - they train, they are raised to be weapons and with the solo goal - to buy themselves freedom and then, to use for the killing. So when times comes, Bertholdt, Reiner and Annie are sent to Paradis Kingdom.

They know that the King is quite not sane - by age and illness he gained by various sexual connections, and he has three children: the oldest son, Erwin, twins Historia Armin, the youngest son. Erwin is an heir, a talented warrior and promised leader; meanwhile, Armin is much younger and not so strong, but his intelligence, bravery and the desire for knowledge is enormous. However, their father didn't really favor Armin, and always neglects him, sending him to battlefields, which are already meant to be lost. Erwin, on the contrary, recognizes Armin's talent and they are close; he, as an older brother, teaches him a lot and they like spending time together. Historia and Armin are close too, not only as twins but as allies: Historia isn't really loved by their father as she's a daughter and can't heir the throne, and by gossips. she has love affairs with one of her guardians, Ymir, which is also not approved by their father - but Armin always supports his sister and her lover, trying his best to cover Historia's missing for nights.

Annie, Reiner and Bert, when they arrive to Paradis Kingdom, they join the Warriors who didn't belong to any village, gathered only by desire of fight and war, the legendary order of Viking mercenaries. There, they meet Zeke, Pieck, Porco, Marcel, and many other people, who was informed of their arrival, and so starts the years of the battlefields. Endless, endless battlefields, full of blood to prepare themselves for the King killing.

Until one day they learn the news from their spies: Erwin, the heir, should be on the battlefield not so far away from their location, and they decide to capture him to manipulate the King, that will eventually lead to his death, but... Instead of Erwin, they find Armin and his army. Armin at the age of 17 is already an excellent strategist, however, his subordinates mocked him for being too merciful, kind and coming up with strategies that save lives, so commanders didn't obey his orders that led to almost his own capture. Annie, Reiner and Bert and their order used this situation, and they helped Armin to win, but... They caught him as a hostage. Not Erwin, but Armin is still an heir.

Firstly, there was an obvious tension, but Annie couldn't miss that Armin was different from what she imagined him to be, how... Royal should be. He is kind, smart, very attentive, and yet, he is manipulative and he never choose to opt to violence, only as a last resort when he could save someone important to him or when he realizes that there's no other choice. It's strange, Annie thinks, and she doesn't understand him. He is the first person in this cruel world who is so unconditionally kind - and yet, not without venom in him, and she couldn't just wrap up her mind how to understand him. She always thought she was nice at reading people. But with Armin, she realizes that she never was.

After some time, Armin and Annie start to speak with each other, and Annie hates that she starts craving these conversations. She hats that this boy should paint his hand - beautiful hand, maybe, more suitable for some crafter or painter - with blood. So when she hears Armin speaks with Marcel that he wants to train to become stronger and more capable in fight, Annie bursts in anger. At this moment, she was practicing with her daggers, and so she throws one of the daggers to the tree trunk, just a few inches away from Armin's face, cutting a few strands from his locks. She hopes it would scare him. She hops he would just step away and refuses to train to become a Viking. To become a Warrior.

She hopes.

But Armin looks directly at her, with his hazel eyes, so deep, like the autumn foliage in the sunset, and the determination in his gaze chokes her with the tight grip.

"Teach me.".

"Me? To teach you?" Annie snorts, trying her best to stay indifferent. "You're helpless. Don't even try."

"I know I am now," Armin nods, taking a step to her. "But with your help, I can become stronger."

"And? What benefit is it for me?"

"I'll teach you reading and writing. And I can also pay you. For you being my guard. When we come back to the capital, I can make you my guardian."

Annie looks at him, and she couldn't fight against his gaze. It's beneficial for her mission, isn't it? It is. And so-

She agrees.

Their training starts, they stay together, since she's now his guardian and his teacher. Armin struggles at first,, failing and failing miserable, but after every fall, he gets up with no complaints, the same determined fire in his irises, and... In one year, he really becomes stronger.

And they become closer. Annie learns about his twin-sister, how close they are, about Erwin, about their crazy father, about all the intrigues and horrors happening in the royal court. She learns that Armin loves to read, that his dreams - not to conquer lands but to see them, experience every single land with respect and admiration, that he never really wanted to be a King. She learns that he knows how to braid hair exactly thanks to Historia: she did it to him, and he did it for her, and now, he does it to Annie's hair too. She learns so many things about him, and she learns another thing, that braided hair by his hands looks so beautiful on her. So beautiful and she doesn't deserve this beauty.

One day, Armin cuts his hair, and Annie suddenly realizes that he grew up. And so she is, too.

And so grew up something in her heart she didn't know a name.

Reiner, Bert and other Warrior pressure her that she started losing her head and betraying them, but she always fight back., defending herself and always dismissing their accusations.

Until, one day, both she and Armin train on the cliff, the sea shimmers at the horizon with molten gold, and just at the very end, their bodies suddenly pressed so closed, caught between the daggers and their battle stances. Eye to eye, torso to torso, their jagged breathes wash each other with warm waves.

"Don't be so cocky," Annie says, her dagger stops inches away from his neck, . "If you think that you can win easily in the battlefield, someone will kill you faster that you can even imagine."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he whispers, and it sent shivers down her spine.

Confusion furrows her brows, and Armin nods down, somewhere to her abdomen. When she looks down, she sees Armin's dagger pointed right into her gut.

Something coils right in her abdomen - impression, surprise, pride and something else. Something she is afraid to name our loud.

"Not so bad for a dead man," Annie whispers, and instead, with the effortless maneuver of her hands, perfected by years and years of war, she flips him.

Armin falls on his back, right into the long grass, but instead of groaning or insults, he smiles, starting laughing.

"You're honestly amazing," he says and looks at her with so much joy and tenderness, and it just makes her blush intensely.

That day she realizes that she can't run away any more from her true feelings. She realizes that she really loves him. And it terrifies, and excites her at the same time.

Weeks later, their hands touch for the first time longer than a sudden brush, and decided to stay for a few minutes longer interwined. Months later, their first kiss happens. A few more - their first intimacy.

But time goes on, they're closer to the capital. And once they arrive in the capital, the King is not really happy to see Armin having his own subordinates. He feels that he's not safe anymore - and he plans to kill Armin after the celebration of his return.

Warriors plan to kill the King, some high-ranked vassals and King's advisors plan to kill Erwin because they see that Armin his more powerful army with him now, and King also has his own plans - none of the sides know what the other plan, so during the celebration, the total mess happens. Both the King and Erwin are killed: King when everything happens, he orders to kill Armin right away, and Annie protects him by killing the King; and Erwin - is killed by Zeke.

Armin becomes a King.

But since Annie killed the former King, she should be now executed, and it's Armin who should ordering since she killed the King in front of his vassals and subordinates. If he wouldn't do it - they wouldn't recognize him. She understands that she failed. She put her feelings first, and now, when she sees Armin in blood and with bloody crown, his eyes so terrified and so... Broken, she sees his heart broken in his gaze when she realizes that she was lying all this time, she just realized that she failed something that was more important than her mission.

She succeeded in her mission.

But she failed him.

"Since when... You... Started to look at me with these eyes, Armin?"

She mumbles, as the hands of soldiers dragged her away. Armin is devastated, but to save her life, he orders to sell her to slavery - he couldn't leave her with him, and he couldn't execute her either. He asks only for one condition - to find a farm where she can work with not so grave conditions.

Then, 4 years pass.

Armin was immediately dragged into wars and he won them, by his excellent mind and strategies. But all this time he was utterly depressed and totally alone, the weight of the crown and responsibility killing him bit by bit, and all this time he was searching for Annie - when he asked the farm of the slaves where he ordered to sell her, his vassals lied to him and told him that she died, not wanting to see her near the new King. Armin was devastated, but searched for her for 4 years, not leaving this hope that she was alive.

Until one day, they met again, on the random market place, when Armin was with his guardian Connie, eating a pie.

And so she was. Alive. And so beautiful, even with the stuffed cheeks and startled gaze, but for him, she was the most beautiful and strong woman he ever met.

And so... The new story begins. But, this is completely another story :D

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts. 

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely. 

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!” 

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered. 

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–” 

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow. 

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state. 

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing. 

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions. 

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you. 

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble. 

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in. 

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his. 

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything. 

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?” 

No response. Argh. 

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!” 

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you. 

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state. 

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet. 

“You are… good with him.” 

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.” 

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing! 

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly. 

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged. 

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.” 

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly. 

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it. 

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.” 

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.” 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness. 

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way. 

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii

[brekwrites]

Hi! I'm Brek (she/her), I'm 22, and I mostly write stuff. I do occasionally draw, but I make no promises about the quality of my art, haha. If you're a minor and want to follow my tumblr, you can! I try to keep things sfw here, but my ao3 does have some nsfw content (all tagged and rated tho).

Here's some facts about me, I guess:

I collect duck and cat figurines. I've had an obsession with skeletons, robots, and Mars rovers since I was really young. I really like Portal, all the Spyro games, and Outer Wilds (and their soundtracks!). Right now I'm pretty much just posting fnaf and tsams stuff, but who knows what the future holds.

Here's generally how my blog is organized!

#reblog - Anything I've reblogged

#meblog - Any of my own original content. Some stuff has its own tag, but shorter fics and the like will probably end up here.

#brekwrites - stuff I write (tag in progress)

#brekdraws - stuff I draw (tag in progress)

#answeredask - Take a guess. (It's my answered asks.)

#fnanf - Five Nights at Not Freddy's: It's Sun and Moon's Show Now - Big long fnaf dca fanfic I'm writing. My take on the "new handler meets Sun and Moon and maybe they kiss eventually" trope, set after Security Breach and outlined before Ruin came out, so not canon compliant anymore.

#chance4redemption - A Chance for Redemption - Big-ish long-ish Sun and Moon Show fanfic I'm writing. Canon divergent, dragging Eclipse V3, kicking and screaming, through his redemption arc.

I can't think of much else, other than the link to my Ao3, which is right here. If you wanna talk to me about anything I've made, or anything I like, or anything you like, feel free to shoot me an ask or smth.

[moonlitphoenixflight]

In Stars and Time AU with shapeshifting aliens (Of Void and Light) [part 1]

[part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

When I play new games which I enjoy I often come up with AUs and such while I am playing them because my brain gets too full of hyperfixation and it has to do something with all that. A lot of this ends up being large amounts of original worldbuilding. For Isat, I had a couple little things, but the one that developed the most was an AU in which Siffrin and The King were twin shapeshifting alien royalty.

My cousin and I have done a little bit of work on an AU that's based on this one but more canon compliant than the barely at all that this is. There's some progress on a fic outline but I'm bad at finishing projects.

Beneath the cut is information on the non-canon compliant version.

The Shapeshifting Aliens

I call them changelings because I really like the word changeling. Their origin is that at some point in the past, there was a war between various different alien species in some other galaxy. The main reason they were fighting was because of communication barriers.

The Stars saw this, and decided that they should probably intervene.

In this AU, both 'The Stars' and 'The Universe' each refer to two different things. The definitions that we have in real life exists, but also, 'The Stars' are gods that are fundamental parts of the world, rather than existing because mortals worshipped them into existence (a god trope I like to use). 'The Universe' refers to the collective council of Stars.

The way The Stars decided to fix it was to create a species that could go and solve the problems. The Stars took some Void essence, and combined it with some Light essence to create a base. Void and Light essence separately are very powerful but very unstable, but combined they balance each other out, and make for a good base for a soul.

Void and Light essence are also both amorphous in physical form, meaning that the bodies of the species created would be as well. Because of this, The Stars gave this species the ability to shapeshift. It would also allow the new species to join the societies of each of the warring species, and eventually bridge the language barriers. This power would result in other species naming them changelings when they found out about it.

The changelings' shapeshifting combined with their connection the The Stars, which gave them both a constant benevolent motivation, and immense power, managed to end the war and unite the various species. A politics developed in which changelings were frequently in charge, because of the above connection to The Stars, though not always. Its called an empire not because of similarities to real life empires with Bad Politics (the Bad Politics comes later) but because empire is a fun word.

Over time, the changelings expanded, reproducing through what is essentially mitosis. Some groups of changelings decided to split off to explore other parts of the universe (notice the lowercase). To do this, they built ships the size of artificial moons, with ecosystems on them. The purpose of the size was for the long term sustainability, since to get to anywhere it would take an extremely long time. (my reason is that its fun)

The tradeoff for the size was that the amount of energy required to move the moonships was immense. Because of this, most of them traveled in trips from the main portion of the empire, to a single destination, then back again.

There was one exception to this, a moonship by the name of Xiriel.(the X pronounced like cks, not z) Xiriel was an exception to quite a lot of things, including the assumption that changelings are always benevolent creatures.

This is getting long, so I am going to make this be multiple posts. Next part will be about Xiriel.

[ten-cent-sleuth]

Please send in Stargate fic requests! :)

Specifically, please send in (via askbox or DMs) a prompt from one of the following bingo cards, then give me some idea for what direction you want me to take it in. Like, “This prompt jumped out at me because it made me think of ___,” or, “This prompt would be so perfect for a post-ep to ___ where X and Y have a conversation about ___,” or, “This prompt goes really well with my favourite trope of ___.” Be as incredibly detailed as you wish!

The reason I’m sharing my cards is to hopefully use people’s requests to give me a breather from my current main Stargate WIPs, so I’d like to focus on the writing part and not the coming-up-with-an-outline part here—and that means you cannot possibly get “too” detailed!

Since this is a Halloween Horror Bingo, I am open to dark themes and unhappy endings. Include any content warnings you’d like! Conversely, I am equally open to playing around with the prompts and with the aesthetic of the whole event to squeeze out some fluff and schmoop. If you specify no preference, I shall go wherever the wind takes me.

See below for more request parameters but the long and short of it is shoot your shot with an idea and I just might write it. 👀

What I can definitely do:

Sam/Jack focus (UST, MCD, hand-wavey happily married during canon shut the heck up, any other flavour except smut)

genfic, incl. solo character stuff

^ including-including your favourite nameless/background character getting their time in the spotlight if you want!

canon compliant, canon divergence, pre-canon (I would include post-canon but I’ve only just started s9 of SG1 and s2 of SGA 😅)

AUs (from within the show or your own idea)

What I might do (i.e., feel free to send it in but I hope you don’t mind if I get back to you and am not feeling it):

other Canon x Canon ships in the background of a genfic or S/J story

Canon x Reader

Canon x OC (gimme deets and I’ll see what I can do)

What I will NOT do:

SGU or Origins because I haven’t watched them, sorry…

any of the movies except the original because I haven’t watched them yet, sorry :/

any of the books because—three guesses why

smut (if you send in a spicy prompt, I will find a way to make it T-rated 😂)

You can make multiple requests, but send them as separate asks please. And try not to combine prompts, but I won’t mind if you really want to!

Anon is on. Judgement is off. Let me write your highly specific plot bunny? :)

(It helps me along and betters your chances if you do, but you don’t have to give me a load of details! <3)

[therealvinelle]

trick or treat :3

You get a trick!

Behold, the original outline for the fic that @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin have been working on for the past three months, that has consumed our entire existence and made us cast aside all our other fics:

Start of the semester, Dippet gets up to introduce the new exchange student: Asgeir Thorstensen!

“He’s in Slytherin, but not because Slytherin’s for evil people. So he’s in Hufflepuff, where the socialists are. But he’s your roommate.” 

“What?”

“Have you heard of planned economy, Tom?”

“Well, Asgeir, let’s take a tour. Oh, you’re in every OWL class. That’s nice. Not sure how it’s possible, but that’s nice.”

No, no, he’s TA-ing because he’s actually done with the curriculum in every class.

“Then why are you here?”

Tom’s friends suddenly like Asgeir better

Tom loses standing in the Slug club, he’s just there to look beautiful now. No networking for you, Tom.

“Oh Tom, we made you a prefect before we knew Asgeir would be attending the school. Terribly sorry, but we can only have so many and would you mind handing over the badge?” “We’re not even in the same house!”

Asgeir introduces skiing to Hogwarts, they stop the Quidditch tournament and replace it with a ski race. Tom has to participate. Everybody laughs when he falls on his face.

Tom comes across a giant dead snake in the hallway. Myrtle’s dead body is next to it. It’s gross. On the wall is “Tom Riddle left this here and I am Tom Riddle”. Tom has to get rid of the evidence.

Asgeir comes to gloat. SO, CAN’T KILL MYRTLE NOW CAN YOU BECAUSE SHE’S ALREADY DEAD.

“The fuck is wrong with you”, Tom is convinced this guy is a Nazi 

Tom tries to tell his friends first, doesn’t work out. He then goes to Dumbledore, doesn’t work out

Lily point of view: her son Harry is terrible at school and it’s getting embarrassing

Lily ends up having to take care of the acromantula which, sadly, also eats Myrtle. Somehow. Some bloke named Tom Riddle is blamed for this. 

An American auror comes in, “I have a gun.” His name: John Magnum.

The Tom Riddle guy makes a scene when Magnum shows up, “you’re a fucking nazi, aren’t you? I know it!”

“No… but my gun eats nazis” the American says this while pulling out another gun from his coat. With each line delievery, he pulls out a new gun from an increasingly unlikely place (we’re at nostril holster by the end of this)

(Accidentally shoots Myrtle when the gun goes off during this conversation)

Lily decides to talk to this Tom Riddle guy, since the Myrtle Warren thing has been bothering her, can’t put her finger on why

“Have you ever tried leaving Hogwarts?”

They walk off the edge of the world and fall, until they land in the 21st century and in the middle of a wizardy lab.

The fic is called Asgeirs eventyr, which translates to Asgeir's Adventure. We have written 329707 words, and it's not done.

(And no, The Man Who Would Be King will not be updated until after Asgeir is done because the fics are now compliant with each other. We're playing with the idea of a crossover.)

[beatriceeagle]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Characters: Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett, Bren Aldric Ermendrud, Original Male Character(s), Yasha (Critical Role), Essek Thelyss, Astrid Beck

Additional Tags: canon compliant through Mighty Nein Reunited, canon inspired through Echoes of the Solstice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, technically this is kidfic in both senses of the term

Chapter: 1/24

Summary: Six months ago, Beau adopted a teenager who loves the Cobalt Soul, but can't stand her. Ten minutes ago, Caleb accidentally summoned his own teenage self into his living room. So you know, they're both going though some shit.

At least Caleb's got experience befriending novice monks with attitude problems. And Beau's got experience befriending Caleb.

Chapter Summary: Beau reads a bedtime story. Caleb makes a phone call.

_____

Beau had barged in on many unwelcome scenes in Caleb’s house, including Caleb bleeding (from a magical accident), Caleb bleeding (from a cooking accident), and in a sight she would never scrub from her mind, Caleb bleeding (from a sex-with-Essek accident). Still, she never could’ve predicted what she found.

A first glance showed her Caleb huddled on the floor of his sitting room, back pressed into a corner, knees folded up to his chin. He stared across the room, almost-but-not-quite looking at a boy, sixteen or seventeen, lying apparently unconscious on the couch. A second glance showed her that the boy was wearing a wizard’s robes, and that he was likely unconscious due to the familiar Iron Shepherd manacles around his hands. A third glance showed her that the boy’s robes were at least twenty years out of fashion, that his jaw cut a very familiar outline, and that his hair, while shorter than she’d ever seen it, was a dead ringer for Caleb’s color.

Beau rounded on Caleb. “Have you been fucking with time travel?”

Caleb’s face paled. Gods above, he looked so bad. Bad like sitting on the beach after storming Vergesson. Bad like collapsing to the ground after defeating Ikithon. It’d been years since all of that, and Beau had thought he’d settled, found some kind of peace. But whatever this was, it had shaken him into the kind of state Beau had really hoped she'd never see him in again.

“No,” he said emphatically. “I would not… I have put that behind me, you should know that.”

Read more

[jamiesfootball]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Tagged by @asteria-argo and @altschmerzes

EDIT- I DEFINITELY TAGGED THE RIGHT PEOPLE THE FIRST TIME

1. How many fandoms have you written in?

24 going back to college, more before that. Unless you mean written in published, in which case 3

2. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I wrote my first thing at 10

3. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Up until last year, read by far. But since I've started more focused writing I have woefully fallen behind on the reading. Right now I'm reading about 3 small fics / updated chapters a week.

4. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Outlining comes a lot easier now than previously. That used to be the most intimidating part, but I've learned now how to keep myself in a trajectory. If there's truly something else I want to explore but that doesn't fit within the outline, then that can simply happen in another fic.

5. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I have no semblance of weird any more. But I did read an entire book on foot injuries with absolutely gruesome photos of foot fungi infections.

6. What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love it when it feels like the person commenting resonated with something I wrote. It doesn't have to be long (though I do really love that), but a certain amount of passion behind the comment is always lovely to see.

7. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I'm currently rotating a time travel au of characters from a fic set in the future coming back to visit characters during the early seasons of the show. This one is fringe because only I would know what the fuck is going on with half the cast.

8. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

You know how there is a sub-genre of fic where a character basically gets to have their day calling everyone else out on their behaviour about some canon-gripe? Those fics. I just can't do it. I can read them, but writing them always feels too mean. Also nihilism for the sake of nihilism. I think it's because in both scenarios, it would require curbing my inner need to fix whatever is going on.

9. What is the easiest type?

I! Like! Fixing! Things! In! A! Canon! Compliant! Way! Or at least, like, canon install-able. You can install canon into this and it won't break too bad.

10. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Right now I'm still using Living Writer despite not liking it very much (for a variety of reasons) because while I meant to switch over, I got overwhelmed exporting everything and missed the renewal date. So stuck with that another year I guess. But the big thing for me is to have cloud and offline access, and this does that.

11. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I finally started outlining on of my original fiction projects! Huzzah! It's going to be longer than I thought help

12. What made you choose your username?

Dyslexia and a writing typo

I tried snooping around to see who got tagged already, but my dash was freaking long today. If you've not been tagged, consider yourself so, thanks!

[jules-writes-stories]

Sad to see Heart of Gold finish 💛 it was such a good fluffy summer read. Just wondering with that complete and with JEL almost done being drafted, are you working on any other projects or planning on working on any projects in the future?

Omg yes! I’ve actually started drafting a story that everyone is going to hate. 😝 It’s the origin story of Amarantha. I want to try and get some of it done for SJM villain week, but I’m so excited about it. I’m reading Madeline Miller’s “Circe” right now and it’s making me think of Amarantha and how Jurian seduced and then crucified her sister… like… I dunno, that’s a bad ass (tragic, horrific, sadistic) villain origin story? It’s also so complex with how humans are enslaved, and seen as inferior?

I dislike how SJM polarizes places, families and even characters. Like: Clythia fell in love with Jurian, enough so to go against her beloved sister, her entire family and country, her army during a war. And then Jurian gets information from Clythia and after getting that info, proceeds to torture her brutally and crucifies her. But don’t worry. Everyone from Hybern was awful and evil and deserves whatever they get…?” I mean, Jurian is a great character in the series. Poor guy pays a big price. But I have a sister. And damn. I can’t imagine… like… probably gonna get hate mail for this… what would Feyre do, or Nesta, if someone did that to Elain? You know? I bet some of our most beloved heroes would turn villain over an act like that.

So that’s my next idea. It’s in the outline phase though. So I have no idea if it will be a one shot or multi-chapter. If multi, def not very long. I’m only writing pre-UTM. Thanks for asking!

Oh, I also have a CoN Azris idea that’s just a bunch of voice notes on my phone lol… but it’s an arranged marriage non-canon compliant one. And there’s a CoN fight club. I may bring Mithras back for that one… super early stages there.

🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

[flowerbloom-arts]

The Laughter Mask (reimagined) would be a reimagining of the Shin Muumin episode of the name. Instead of the canon timeline of the original series, it would take place in a separate fan-timeline that would be an in-between of the early books and comics.

The story takes place in October during Moominvalley's Mask Festival. Still new to to the larger community of Moominvalley (and by extension, uniformed of the festival until too late), the extended Moomin family are given little time for preparation, so the kids look to the traveling mask salesman to help things along. A particular mask catches the attention of Sniff, although the salesman doesn't seem willing to part ways with it for mysterious reasons.

And the Beast Whimpered! is a book canon-compliant story taking place post-Moominpappa's Memoirs (a year after Moominpappa rescues Moominmamma, to be exact), in which the Muddler happens to be a newly made werewolf for unknown reasons. I already made a plot outline for this one but details are almost certainly subject to change.

-

I can't promise that the winning fic will be finished by Halloween but I'll try my best not to abandon it like alot of other story-based projects and make sure it does get posted (eventually), since both of these will be one-shots (possibly divided into chapters for a more structured reading experience)

[caeli0306]

For the writers’ ask game thing (please and thank you!):

❤️🎁👻

———————

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

🏷 Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

⏰️ Do you like to post fics on a schedule or at random?

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

🐇 Do you write for yourself, for others, or both?

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

💎 Do you often write about a relationship or focus on an individual?

🔥 Have you included any sexy scenes in your fics? If yes, do you find them easy or difficult to write?

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

🔎 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

🤖 Are non-fandom friends aware that you write fanfic?

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

🎯 Do you have a writing milestone you’re working towards?

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Ooh thanks for asking!

❤️ - This is so hard. A few options b/c I can't choose!

from castles crumbling chapter 2

I want to scream, but I can’t get the air into my lungs. This isn’t fair. If Malek had to take anyone, he should have taken me. Not this innocent child. Not these people celebrating their gods. Me. A murderer. Someone who so long ago lost my humanity that I barely even remember what it felt like to be human.

This line from the present, the past, and you in between:

The war was long, but my life with her has been longer. I used to say that I've lived on borrowed time, and I accepted that my life was destined to be short. Then I began to pray to Malek, begging to borrow more, all to spend with her.

Combined with this line:

I begged Malek for more time, and he gave me too much.

From Did Someone Say Shots?:

Instead, I slept with her when I knew how horrible of an idea it was, and it fucking destroyed me when, in the morning light, she called it a mistake. Look at me, dealing with the consequences of my own actions.

Last but definitely not least, from chapter 6 of castles crumbling:

I laid my old self to rest a long time ago, but he is still there at the wake, trying to make sense of her demise.

🎁 - a lil blurb from an unpublished one shot, if it pleases the court :)

Then Xaden walks into the conference room. He has the kind of presence that makes people shut up and pay attention, and I hate him for it. The chatter that permeated the air dies away instantly, replaced by the silence of worshippers waiting for words from their god on high. I guess Xaden fulfills that role here. Those golden eyes of his find me almost immediately, and I school my expression into a glare. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. That's the message I want him to receive. Instead, he only smirks, and then turns to retrieve a folder from Bodhi, who followed him in. Xaden takes a seat at the head of the long table, sitting as casually as one would in their own living room. He props his elbows on the table, the movement causing the muscles of his arms to bulge under the rolled up sleeves of his black button up shirt. I hate that he looks that good without even trying. I hate that I know what he looks like under that shirt even more. As if sensing that I was thinking about him, about That Night, he meets my eyes again, and his grin this time is downright filthy. "Shall we begin?" he asks. "Sorrengail, you're up. Tell us how you plan to save our asses, and try to make it quick." Oh, fuck him. I plaster on my most fake smile, and stand. Liam gives me a look from where he stands, that basically says Don't do something you'll regret. Luckily for me, I've about expended my regret reserves when it comes to Xaden Riorson. If he wants to be an ass, then fine. I'll be an ass in return. He needs me a whole lot more than I need him.

👻 - IDK if it's a headcanon, but I like to think Xaden sometimes needs assurances that she's not going to leave and that she loves him because he doesn't think he's worthy of her. Not in like, a toxic way, or in the "I need to know you'll be there" way that he brought up in IF, but more every day, like "Hey I'm feeling x right now, and need to hear that my brain is creating scenarios that aren't real." IDK if I'm making any sense.

[minor-deity-of-chaos]

Almost a year ago today, I made a rant about how cool it would've been if the accidental-lost-incident-backup storyline given half-heartedly to Bohman during season 2 was a full season plot (not using Bohman because we can do better) and not just a random, unimportant thing. A couple days after that I had written a short-form script for that potential season, only to forget about it the next week.

Well, I found it again, and I decided to turn it into a complete season breakdown fic! This is now a VRAINS Season 3 reimagining, and since I've had massive writer's block for years now, I decided to go easy on myself and write this in 'episode summary' format. I means that I'm basically outlining each episode in detail, but not writing actual 'prose'. I will post each episode as they are written, and the season will be 20 episodes same as the original S3.

My intention is to stay mostly canon-compliant, just pushing the seriousness of the show even further to give it weight.

And yes, it's going to be Aiyusa, but so is the canon ending of the series and no one can convince me otherwise 💚

[runawaymarbles]

finally finishing that crowley fic i started in 2019 and i realized. i could make it season 2 compliant. the original outline had a soft landing but what if i made them worse actually

[grayintogreen]

Pinned Post II: Electric Boogaloo

Hi, I'm Chris! I'm updating my pinned post to be more streamlined so here we go.

I liveblog Critical Role every week and tag with "cr spoilers" up until Monday. This tag also gets used for Candela Obscura and any one-shots. Dimension 20 spoilers are labeled “d20 spoilers.”

This is primarily a Critical Role and Dimension 20 blog, but I contain multitudes. You will see a lot of random shit depending on my mood. I’m really into Hazbin Hotel right now, for example, so my blog is kinda inundated in that. Honestly I might as well admit I am also a Hazbin blog at this point. Sorry, women.

I write a lot of fic, which can be found on my AO3 here. I primarily write fic centered on minor/supporting characters. I'm also the author of the life in the margins of redemption and red roses and dead things series- more about these below.

I have a ko-fi if you'd like to give me a tip for any reason.

I am the assistant manager of a convenience store that is part of a large retail chain and if you tell me that you shop there because “Wal-Mart is crooked” I’ll kill you. Mine is worse.

My two big series are as follows:

red roses and dead things (or Roseverse), a canon divergent Hazbin Hotel (goes AU after 1x06) series that deals with working on continuing the story while I wait for new material. It is lore-heavy, Team as Family, and redemption-focused with focus on Huskerdust, Alastor and his deal, Lucifer and his relationship to Heaven and Hell and his family, and Charlie continuing to pursue her dreams. Also contains significant amounts of Helluva Boss because we’re not beholden to copyright here.

life in the margins of redemption (or LitMoR), a For Want of a Nail CR2 Canon Divergent series, is a duology (with additional side stories) that takes the alternate path outlined in the Harvest's Close session notes- Cree rescuing the Nein from the Gentleman's wrath should they betray him- and takes it a step further with Cree reviving Molly on the Glory Run Road and traveling with the Nein in the hopes of finding a way to bring Lucien back. It is extremely Canon Divergent, but does feature CR2 plots under radically different circumstances and with additional characters. It's worldbuilding heavy, character-driven, often dark, but has a guaranteed happy ending. You may heard of it as "that 1.5 million word fanfic series."

It is not canon compliant with TNEOL as I had finished OUADYA before TNEOL came out. While I use some elements from the novel, the backstory presented for Lucien and the Tombtakers in the series is entirely different.

More details, including links to the fics, beneath the cut.

THE MAIN STORIES.

Note that while the series features Fjorester, Beauyasha, and Widomauk as primary ships, it is above all a gen fic that focuses on the platonic relationships even more than the romantic ones. I cannot in good faith rec this fic to you if you HATE any of those ships, but I can say if you're indifferent/just want a plot and platonic relationship focus, this fic will appeal to you.

once upon a damn-you-all. Cree saves Molly on the Glory Run Road, sending the Nein's trajectory off the rails in a story about redemption, change, fate, and team-building. Also Molly having to contend with the Somnovem.

you can't deny high noon. The Nein continue their journey with an additional member- a reluctant, captive Lucien- as they continue to face numerous challenges while enemies lurk in the background. While OUADYA is mostly original plotlines, this fic follows the majority of the major plot beats of canon albeit a bit twisted around and out of order.

THE SIDE STORIES

While not necessary to read in order to understand the main duology, I feel like not reading them causes a loss of impact, as often events/characters from them are referenced in the main narrative and having more perspective on the events adds more oomph. This is an extremely detail-oriented series and barely anything goes in without some thought put into it. For the sake of not overwhelming my audience, I'm only listing the side stories I think are actually important to the overall narrative, but please do read the others if you have the time.

there's something divine in the way screams can sound. The events of OUADYA as seen through the eyes of someone trapped in the Astral Sea- or Lucien's utter breakdown, now with context. Introduces several backstory elements that become super relevant in YCDHN.

as in the painted parlor, ophelia dreams. The story of how Ophelia came to the Run, became a Mardoon, and gave up her son.

all of the dreamers defying convention. A fic that takes place in the two month gap between the two duology stories and bridges the two narratives.

OTHER LINKS

original character guide. A guide to the many original characters featured in the series.