#the ifs story

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

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[rocketbirdie]

fateful encounter

[ponypickle]

I will never not be sad by the de-fangification of our female characters on hotd. we could've had all of them serving cunt and warfare/bloodthirstiness but instead they are all 'peaceful' and everything is the men's fault 🙄🥲.

a cersei-esque alicent dead set on having her kids on the throne at all costs because she believes it's their gods given right, ready to slay everyone who gets in her way

rhaenyra asking her feral husband to eliminate anyone and anything that offends her, like vaemond, a son for a son, etc. stopping at nothing to get HER throne because SHE wants it, not stopping at anything to achieve her goals

rhaenys ready to ride into war for her queen to slay all her enemies instead of feeling bitter as she came across in the show a lot of the time

baela truly being the embodiment of her father in female form, being feral and ready to eliminate everything at once, etc.

oh, the show we could've had if they just weren't scared of the audiences reactions to powerful decisive women that aren't apologetic about their claims to power and what they believe is their's.

[urfriendlywriter]

what ifs.

i love myself. i love myself and i believe it because i hold myself when it's too cold to sleep and tell myself i did well when nobody seems to notice.

i love myself but i also have hatred towards myself for being patient, kind, loving, hopeful and positive because what has it gotten me? i look at people around me and it breaks my hope in life, love and diminishes my longing for someone to hold me and make me feel at home. i love myself so much im scared someone will scar me and it won't go away, break me and i won't be able to collect myself, or tell me what i thought was love wasn't love and what is going to suffocate me is what I'll be left with.

why does social media's "if you're in a relationship and they do this.." break me and make me resent the idea of it all. why do i have to love if there's a chance i won't be loved back the same way? why is the society instilling fear that I'll end up with losers that'll crush my heart between their finger, manipulate me, hurt me, break me and watch me bleed and WHY most of it all it affects me?

even if i hope and believe and manifest otherwise. why?

how.. will.. i.. commit.. to one person who may or may not change for the worse? and why is this a fear that's pressed on me by the conditions and the events of the world?

but on the good days, i tell myself I'll be loved the way i love, touched the way i want, talked to the way i do, and held by arms that's full of warmth and seen by eyes that's full of loving. but what if.

what if it's my last straw

what if my dreams break with it

but what if i make it out alive

stronger, healthier, a better version of myself. what if i believe that what i believe will happen and I'm the happiest person on earth? what if we don't set our happiness on somebody else's treatment towards us? what if we believed, hoped, manifested, changed and grew and what if i become what i need and even if that somebody else messes up...

I'll still be there for me. and so will some people I've chosen to call family.

[mocamagical]

Charlie is not immune to getting cute outfits. She's just a NYC girl making it in New Orleans so she doesn't have to inherit her father's mafia enterprise and maybe one day, she can open a rehab centre or soup kitchen, like Al Capone.

[nibbelraz]

Warning! Warning! Character No longer Exists!

[leashybebes]

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

tommy must live in a perpetual state of confusion over buck

do you think the longer buck allies the more tommy realises that "oh, he really is like this but he's definitely some flavor of queer"? because i see tommy maybe gently testing buck's jealousy to see what it'll take to make him break

oooookay once again this is not a snippet (sorryyyyy) but is more me attempting to understand wtf is going on in tommy's head throughout all this that he keeps "sure, okay"-ing himself into ridiculous situations with buck, so apologies for just unloading the contents of my brain on you

there are a few things i've been chewing on in terms of figuring out how tommy reacts to the buck of it all, which i hope will make it make sense that i actually don't think tommy pushing or testing for jealousy is on the cards in this fic (although i do love the idea!)

so first of all, this is a younger tommy than we've seen interact with buck in canon (of course), so whatever happened to make him Like That in the breakup hasn't happened yet (and won't, because i am a slut for a HEA). he's newly out and in my experience, a lot of newly out people, particularly people who are a bit older have something of a second adolescence. so yeah while this means he's incredibly horny (horny enough to let a self-proclaimed straight guy give him the absolute best sex of his life) it also means he just wants to have fun!! and buck is SO. MUCH. FUN. he's spent so long so tightly controlled that he's trying really hard to just go with the flow.

second, when i say newly out tommy, i mean newly out. like, it's one thing to "stop lying about who i am" - to me, there's a non-zero chance that just means "stop making up girlfriends" rather than "actually grapple with the life-long process of coming out (again and again and again)". so in my head (and it might come up in the fic, idk yet) the scene early on where he tells buck he doesn't want the cute girl's number because he's gay is probably one of the first times he actually said the words out loud. which ties into...

third, we know tommy was work friends with sal (at least and again, don't know that it'll come up in the fic but for the record, he 100% had a monstrous crush on him, like it made him ILL how much he wanted sal, i will hear no arguments), and that he developed good - again, work-based - friendships with hen and chim, but i feel like for a deeply closeted guy under dadt with a shitty childhood buck might be his first actual friend who knows all of him and likes him. spends time with him. doesn't care that he's gay. actively supports his gayness. doesn't recoil and in fact actively encourages tommy to talk about it. so i think tommy is just...deeply, deeply grateful for this confusing train wreck of a man

fourth, while i think there are definitely times that tommy thinks "he...he's flirting with me, right? is something gonna happen here?" this is a guy who has spent his entire adult life not looking at that kinda thing. not letting himself wonder if a guy (particularly a friend) is into him. or really, even if he's into them. he's really, really good at compartmentalising, and buck's pretty insistent that he's straight, so tommy's taking that at face value. hey, buck makes compelling arguments ("tommy, straight men have prostates too!")

aaaaand there we have the contents of my brain as it relates to one tommy kinard. even in my own incredibly stupid AUs, i am frankly obsessed. i want to gnaw on him. i'll settle for having buck do it instead.

[salty-an-disco]

I disagree with Narrator in a very fundamental and philosophical level, but you know, even if I agreed 100% with his worldview and the reality he wants to bring about, I’d still think he’s wrong for taking matters into his own hands and changing THE VERY FABRIC OF REALITY affecting people in the entire universe, simply because HE thinks he knows what best for the world.

Like– that’s why I find him so fascinating, it’s not only the fear of death or disgust towards the very concept of change (tho that is very funny and interesting in its own right), but the utter arrogance to champion himself Savior of the World without EVER considering that maybe– just maybe, people might not agree with what he plans to do.

Like. Hubris indeed, and he even has the gall to say, “you can still do what you must and kill her” when we call him out on it. Like. Wow. I want to study this guy under a microscope.

[ofswordsandpens]

one day, ONE DAY, I'll write (rewrite) my Alaska au where Annabeth chose to go with Luke in botl, changing the trajectory of everything, meaning Percy chose godhood in tlo.

[liakunemui]

they say that the way to a man's heart... is through a cat!??!?

i love rayyan and i couldn't resist. also thank you anon—wherever, whoever you are!—for the silly little dialogue prompt and of course the author, for such a cool IF that i think about on a daily basis. @collegetennisoriginstory

[moonshine-nightlight]

So i just read Nothing's Wrong With Dale for the 4th time, and I just wanted to say thank you. I fucking love that story so much it's insane!!

I have a few questions that I keep thinking about of their life after the story ends. (Some of them are silly, sorry!)

1. Would you ever consider doing a sequel?

2. I feel like personally Dale would be an amazing father, but do you think they would ever have children in the future? If so, would they be half demon?

3. How would Dale react if another woman hit on him? I have a feeling he would be so oblivious at first.

4. What would Dale do if 'reader' is jealous of said woman?

5. What do you think would happen if someone in the 'readers' family accidentally found out?

Sorry if this is a lot, I'm just love this story so much! You are such a wonderful author 💜

Damn! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story enough re-read multiple times! That's so sweet!

i love questions about my stories, especially Dale! Since some answers will be spoiler-y and speculation, please see below :)

(Mild disclaimer: all of this is just speculation and half-baked ideas, nothing is canon because nothing is written etc even if i am the author. if anyone personally disagrees with any of this for their version of the reader and Dale--I fully support you)

I have considered it and while i do have ideas for some little spin off/side short stories, currently i don't plan for a full sequel. I just don't have a compelling idea for the overall plot/character ? Some of my bonus ideas are: POV story from Miss Adir&Mr Murray called "Peculiar Creatures" about reader and Dale; Dale hunting down Two; dale confronting the patrons of the assassination; a Midwife POV story; and a mini-romance story with Breighton and Teresa. I also do want to write more stories about different romances set in the Dale universe, with potential cameos by Dale and reader (each with at least 1 human and 1 demonic person).

Dale will certainly put his all into being a father. Not set in stone, but I think they'll have three kids and they are all part demon. If i ever was to write a full sequel it would probably combine some of the above short stories into one longer story covering readers pregnancy with their first born and the ramifications of a partially demon pregnancy lol while learning to take over Northridge. Dale felt very alone when he was young and so he'd put a lot of effort into making sure his child wouldn't feel that way--especially since the kid will be singular (no swarm) which Dale would see as very lonely. Both want multiple kids so that gets alleviated in time. They do have to be careful about letting Dale's grandparents around their children until they can control themselves lol

You're right, he likely wouldn't pick up on the nuance between "general manners" "sucking up to powerful people" "general flirt" and "flirting with him specifically". If he did notice, he'd be relatively polite but also ignore it or, if persistent, just leave to find the reader lol. If reader was there, he'd just be like "my lovely spouse" in greater and greater frequency/emphasis--like the other person is oblivious to the fact that he already has the best spouse.

I don't think reader would be jealous, they're married and stupid in love, but Dale'd probably just be confused if they were. Like, jealous of what? lol (I mostly find jealously fun to write/play with either before the couple is together or if its about non-romance things)

Reader's family finding out is a very interesting idea. It would definitely depend on who and when they find out. Callalily is the most protective so she'd be worried about the danger to the reader and generally everyone, not just violence but also manipulation. Douglas would be suspicious and wary and would need to interrogate Dale directly--fearing the reader being controlled in some way. He's seen the damage demons can do and takes it super seriously, but knows individual demons vary wildly. Marigold and Asher are both the most likely to hear the reader out and not jump to conclusions, for different reasons. They have more open minds and trust the reader to know themself/trust their judgement the most. All are more likely not to run screaming the longer they've known him/any children the couple has. The reader's parents would immediately tell everyone, they would have to be actively kept from spreading the word.

thanks for sending this ask and these questions in! It was a lot of fun to think about and share, especially since i hav basically no time for anything but work (which i should be doing now lol)

I'm always happy to talk about Dale ^^

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Absolutely adore your IF, ugh gosh felix and sam PLS HUMP ME

But do you happen to know any other college IF's? of any sort honestly

1000/10 on the enthusiasm.

College IFs... I remember a high school one though it's also a thriller named Conspiracy at Emerson but other than that... nothing else off the top of my head -- if anyone else has ideas, shoot away in the comments!

[fandom-susceptible]

AU where the Moonshadow assassins' bindings were specifically bound to avenge the death of the dragon prince, and when Rayla confronts Runaan on the ramparts he realizes the egg being alive renders their mission impossible, and he ends up rallying the other assassins to help bring the egg back to Xadia. They send an illusion to keep the guards distracted while they slip the boys out with the egg.

Everyone still ends up thinking Harrow is dead because the illusions aren't real so they aren't getting hurt by the guards, and it gives Viren an excuse. He realizes they're illusions but uses them to kill Harrow's body anyways, and pin the blame on the elves.

Rayla's cases to the other assassins for allowing her to return after being Ghosted are essentially their reasons for going along with this

Runaan didn't sign up for two more goddamn kids but here he is he guesses

I just started the rewatch so like, a lot would change because of this, but idk where to start. I think the boys would find out Harrow is dead way earlier, because all six assassins would notice their ribbon drop, and Runaan would just tell them the truth. Ez wouldn't head back immediately though, because there's legal processes to go through after a king's death and it should have taken longer to move on. They won't know about Viren moving up the timetable or Corvus trying to find them until the same time they do in the show.

For some reason I also keep imagining Corvus and Callisto with similar personalities so the idea of Corvus chasing six Moonshadow assassins and two little kids across Xadia, and one of the assassins clearly gets his vibe, is very entertaining to me at the moment.

One or two of the elves may even return with Corvus and Ezran when he does go back. Zym's forgiveness of Rayla would cause all of their bindings to fall off (based on Runaan's binding disappearing in the show), and they'd go back to Katolis at the new king's side. Ram and Callisto, maybe. And then we have a whole new plot with new stakes as Viren whips up animosity against them when they've appeared in allegiance with Ezran.

I might have more thoughts on this later.

[cinderacequeen]

Congratulations! Your Pooky has evolved!

[lurkofyourlife]

Oh look. It's the basement story. [m/f, captor/captive, whumper-as-caretaker, kidnapping, dark romance stuff, all that fun violent drugging and torture business, you know how it goes 🩷] Even the opening got a bit of an edit, but if you want to skip what's already been posted, just click the read more to get to the new stuff.

⛓️1️⃣

Her limbs are leaden. Her head feels full of cotton, wrapped in it, muffled and foggy. Drifting back to consciousness, but still dozing. Finally, bleary eyes blink open, only half aware of strangely pale surroundings and a single black-clad figure beside her before falling closed again.

Wait.

Quickly they open once more, sluggish heartbeat gradually lurching to life, bewildered as she tries to clear her foggy vision. Grey walls, white mattress, man in black. Shit— who— why…

She doesn’t think to be scared at first, confusion overpowering fear, but when she shifts to sit up there’s a drag on her leg, a noise like—

She stares at the chain for a moment. It’s a shock, like she’s been drenched in ice cold water. She knows the difference between reality and dreams— or she thought she did. But this can’t be real. Her stomach drops, gradually taking in what’s at her feet. There’s a shackle around her ankle. A chain, thick and silver, linking her to a pipe that bridges dusty concrete floor to unfinished wood-beamed ceiling. It can’t be real. This isn’t a thing that happens. And— she’s shaking a little as she returns her attention to the man whose presence had jarred her into wakefulness, sitting on the far side of the bare mattress. 

He’s familiar, and she’s not sure why. No— as her brain clumsily tries to piece it all together, she registers that she does know him. Knew him. Spent one long night with him, at least, what feels like ages ago. Tall dark and handsome, the guy from the concert. Big bad wolf to her little red. Her head is spinning, overwhelmed. The look in her eyes is helpless, confused. Lips open, but she isn’t even sure what to say. What’s happening? Why is— what is— who—

She blinks, a short croak choked in her throat as it tightens. It’s a dream. She’s dreaming. 

Go back to sleep. Close your eyes. 

She slumps back to the mattress, trying not to look at it, at him, at anything. Numbly, she pulls her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie and rolls over, curling up even as it tugs the chain on her ankle. The heat of sleep gradually leeches away the longer her mind keeps working. The gap of practically bare skin between her skirt at the top of her long knit socks is suddenly very chilly. She tries not to think about how vulnerable that chill makes her feel. 

Dream. It’s a dream. Sleep.

She’ll close her eyes, set her mind to fix her current situation, and steer her dream back in the right direction. Her thudding heart only obeys when she holds her breath, slowing its rush, eyes stubbornly closed. She can fix this.

The eerie empty echo of the room is broken by a soft chuckle rumbling in her companion’s - her captor’s - chest. A sound of fabric on fabric, heat nearing her side in a way that makes her skin feel tight and nausea bubble in her gut. She flinches as a hand comes to rest so sickeningly gently on her shoulder. 

“Nuh-uh, c’mon now, Sammy,” he coos at her, pulling her rigid body toward him, a frustratingly warm solidity in the cold room. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart, but you gotta wake up.”

A new wave of shock hits as he calls her that. Sammy. It feels like a punch to the stomach, and the shaking is back. He knows her. She could swear— she barely remembers his name, and she could swear she remembers the stress over maintaining a false identity to match her fake license that night, giving him a fake name— but he knows her.

Panic is hungrily chewing up her attention, biting at the back of her mind, and tears prick the corners of her eyes as she wrestles herself out of his hold, shifting herself closer to the wall. She won’t fucking cry. Not going to happen. Never, especially not around whoever this fucker thinks he is. A mattress on a concrete floor. Shackled to a pipe. It has to be just a dream. 

Then he’s hushing her gently, and a hand - too big, too heavy - strokes at her hair, as if he could somehow calm this panic. “Hey, hey, you’re ok. Breathe, puppy. Just breathe, relax. You’ll be ok.”

She hates that— hates the name, the too-smooth tone, the way he thinks he can just touch her. 

She jerks away, movements stiff as she tugs her hood up and the drawstrings tight, anything to avoid seeing reality, curling up and retreating further toward the wall until her knees are pressed against it. The chain isn’t taut, but she can feel the cold metal through her socks, and hear the soft metallic noise as she jostles it. A cold sweat dampens her forehead, jaw clenched in determined denial.

Go away. Leave me alone. This isn’t real.

He sighs, holding her shoulder with a bit more force than before. “Don’t pout, Sammy.” It’s edging on an order. “Sit up. Don’t make me repeat myself.” His previously soft tone turns harsher by the second, a grim discipline that expects to be obeyed. 

She jerks her shoulders again, forcing him off. Her hands come up behind her head, tucking herself into a ball, nails digging into the back of her hoodie like she can claw right through to her skull.

Go away go away go away go away.

“Are you really gonna make me count?” he grumbles, and she can sense the challenge in that tone. He hasn’t snapped yet, but… 

“Fine,” he states, pulling his hand back. The sudden chill of that loss doesn’t feel any better than the burn of its presence. “If I get to ten and you’re still being a petulant brat, we’re gonna have a problem. One… two… three…”

She’s shaking— a disorienting combination of fear, anger, and anxiety. Her heart rate is too fast, breath quick, trying to resist hyperventilating.

Fuck you. Go away. I hate this, I hate you, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, go away go away go away-

Her grip tightens enough that she can feel her fingers digging into her own muscles through the fabric. Focus on that. Focus on the pain. Let the rest disappear. Let it stop. Go to sleep- wake up- whatever it is she has to do to be back in reality. 

“...Seven… eight… nine…” He pauses. She waits, feeling the glare he’s sending her even if she refuses to see him. He practically growls: “Ten.”

Without mercy, he grabs the back of her hoodie, harshly gripping the fabric and anything underneath it to yank her upright. Not hard enough to pull out any hair, but hard enough for it to hurt like a bitch. 

She yelps, and hands clawing into his, prying at his grip even as he hauls her up and shoves her face into the wall. All she can do is try to push herself away from it, her cheekbone ground against the concrete as tears once more spring to her eyes, threatening to finally breach her defenses. She keeps eyes screwed shut, lips pulled back in a snarl. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His tone is acidic and sarcastic. “Well too bad, you don’t get to hide from me. Not here.” With that, he jerks her back towards him to grab her jaw with his free hand, yanking the hood away from her face. “Now, sweetheart, are we gonna behave, or will you continue pushing my buttons?”

He may have a hold on her chin, but she’s got arms and legs (or at least one– one and a half?) to fight with. No more simply retreating; he’s too close, and she wants him off. Sharp elbows jab behind her. Her adrenaline has finally arrived, stampeding through her with the urge to fight. Her legs had been busy trying to keep her upright, but now she doesn’t care about that— she kicks, and stumbles, forcing him to hold her up if he wants to keep her on her feet, or to let her drop back onto the mattress if he can’t hold her up. She doesn’t have words, just frustrated snarls and thrashing limbs. Hot tears have finally started to fall, streaking black down her cheeks, but she refuses to sob. Just anger— so much anger.

He lets her drop, coming down to the mattress over her. The hand on her chin moves down to her throat as he changes position, kneeling and holding his captive to his chest. His grip tightens until she’s just barely getting enough oxygen to breathe. 

“I’m a little tempted to rip off your fingernails for scratching me up,” he growls into her ear. “Apologize, and I’ll let it slide.”

She’s practically feral— hissing, snarling, doing all she can to fight him— even with his hand on her throat. Wheeze as she might, she refuses to reply. The threat of losing her nails gives her unpleasant goosebumps all over, a shock of fear trying to break through the raging thrashing thing she’s become. She leans into his hand, spitefully. 

Choke me out, bitch, do it. Send me away from here. Make it stop.

He ignores her fists, her elbows, every hard bone jabbing back at anything she can reach. He stays calm, collected, seemingly unbothered, but she bitterly hopes he’ll feel them tomorrow. Today. She hopes he’ll never stop feeling every strike she lands, the bastard. 

Rising to his feet, he holds her with one hand on her neck, the other around her waist. A few steps forward and she’s pressed into the wall, the furnace of heat that is his chest engulfing her back, while the concrete’s chill sinks through her hoodie.

Pinned between a rock and a hard place, she still doesn’t stop her fight. The closeness, the contact, the confined space all has alarms ringing in her head, but she’s not in her right mind to panic. There’s more energy to go, more fight left in her. She hasn’t hit her limit yet. There’s so much rage left to vent.

Her vision swims, and part of her is twistedly delighted at that. That’s a win condition in her head, now. Unconsciousness is a win condition. 

Staying close - too close for her to get leverage for a strike - his pressure on her throat lessens, ragged breath returning to her. His sigh whispers down her neck, tone beleaguered: a tired owner dealing with a rowdy pet. “Are you done with your little tantrum?”

She growls hoarsely, bucking her body back against his, angrily. Still no words. Still just animal rage. 

No. Never. Fuck off or kill me. Better make it fucking count. 

Even without the space to really hit him, her struggle hasn’t flagged entirely, hands still clawing at anything she can reach, legs refusing to touch the ground, forcing him to use his strength to hold her up. 

His little growling grumbling noises at her back seem to point to her fight having some kind of effect, even if he never lets go. Until he does. The hand that had been around her throat disappears as he simply forces his body against her, sandwiching her against the wall instead of holding her there. For a second she thinks she might be getting somewhere– only to spot a flash of glass - metal? - and then there’s a pinching jab at the side of her neck. 

No. 

It’s all she gets a chance to think before the drug rushes her system. It makes quick work of her energy, limbs crumpling, letting him hush her gently back onto the mattress as she’s swallowed by sleep once more.

(also thanks to @hypno-mccroquette for the beta!)

[timefall-if]

i was just wondering if the gender of the ros get set once u pick the mc's sexuality (e.g. heterosexual mc = all male ros)? this isnt rlly a problem but a lot of ifs do this and sometimes i just wanna be able to pick their gender yk? also i rlly like ur if so far and cant wait to see future chapters! <3

you'll be able to pick the RO's genders individually! i'm hoping to put the option to either choose before the prologue or upon meeting them ^^

(also MC isn't gender locked, so if MC was heterosexual it wouldn't automatically mean all the ROs are male! ik you probably meant it for your own personal MC, but i just wanted to specify so no one would be confused haha)