#what do I even call this niche au

[torra-and-the-toons]

A wip... 👀

[nostalgia-tblr]

.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader / Pietro Maxmioff x fem!reader

Summary: Nothing is as it seems.

Prompt: "You look familiar. Where do I know you from?"

Warnings: crossover au, death, pietro, reader, and james are all sixteen, ending is very much up to interpretation (open-ended lol), confusing on purpose 😉

~ @simp-for-fictional-people this is SO niche and so different then anything I usually write! i hope this is what you wanted, lovie!! ~

ps: while i personally fan-cast James as Aaron Taylor-Johnson in my head and use him for headers, i try and write his physical descriptions more ambiguously in my other james works because i know there are plenty of other amazing James fan-casts (including poc!james, which i really love)! however, for this story's purposes, he's supposed to look like pietro 😁 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

Dead.

The word rings in your ears but you don't register it. You slide through the rubble, knees scraping the pavement to reach him. Alive? You hope as you see a glimmer of those blue eyes you love so much behind the strands of silver. You whisper his name, the letters feeling wrong on your tongue as you kneel beside him. 

You see the blood seeping through his costume and your heart sinks. Dead. Dead. Dead. It's a taunting chant as you push him up to lean his head on your knees, pushing his hair away from his eyes. His eyes, which are staring at you but there's no life behind them anymore. 

"No," your voice is shaky as you clutch him, your skin vibrating as your vision blurs. "No. No. No. No," you chant to counter the voice in your head. You bend over and kiss his forehead. No response. You try his cheek as tears stream down your cheeks. "Pietro," you plead, "wake up."

Anger courses your veins as his blood stains your hands. Your head is pounding so loudly you can barely think. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The team calls your name. You feel like the world around you is spinning as you feel your powers acting up as you hold him closer to you, crushing his face into your chest as you sob. You feel hot and misplaced as your head is throbbing. 

Your name is screamed again but this time, you can't even see them as a blinding green light surrounds you, catching the gimmer on your wrist—the small silver bracelet Pietro had given you for your sixteenth birthday—and you fall unconscious. Your head hits the pavement, making everything turn dark. 

His hand touches yours, the background blurry. He looks like a carefree kid again, those rosy cheeks so full of life and future. "Y/n/n, wake up," Pietro whispers, grinning as you stare into his blue eyes. "Wake up now."

You startle awake, sitting up as your chest heaves. You blink, dried tears still on your cheeks. You glance around the room, it looks ancient. You're dressed in clothes you don't immediately recognize as your head continues to throb.

From your bedside, a boy jumps up. He's wearing the same clothes, only his with red accents as opposed to your green ones. His dark hair is curled messily across his features and his glasses rest lopsided on his head. "Thank Merlin!" he exclaims, his British accent thick as he rushes up to you and leans over you, smiling. "Are you okay?"

You blink, looking at his features intensely. His smile, the way his nose curves, the swoop of his hair. His eyes. 

The same ones flash in your head. 

"You look familiar," you whisper, tilting your head with confusion, "Where do I know you from."

The boy laughs. "Y/n/n, it's me. It's James."

James? James? James? For some reason the name sticks on your tongue. You look at him as your memories rush back. James. Pietro? James. 

"Jamie, right," you shake your head, touching your scalp and frowning. "Shit, what happened?"

"You fell and hit your head pretty damn hard, love," James kisses your forehead tenderly. "Madam Pomfrey says you have a small concussion," he smiles and again you have a weird sense of déja-vu.

"I had the weirdest dream," you tell him and look down at your hands, almost expecting to see the green light from around them. Your frown deepens when you see the silver bracelet from your dream. You hold your wrist up. 

"James? Where did this come from?"

James looks at the bracelet and shrugs. "Why're you asking me? It's yours." 

You turn the bracelet around, frowning again as you see a hint of two small initials engraved onto the metal.

P.M

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg, @tansgirlfriend, @brokeaesthetic , @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

[abejaenacuarela]

"PRINCESS" HARROWHARK AND GIDEON THE UNDEFEATED... This is very fucking niche and I might be the only person that would care about this (so reblogs even more appreciated than usual) but.... Griddlehark (tlt) Malevolent (podcast) AU.............

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dialogue from Malevolent episode 47

•do not repost• shares appreciated • sketch, yellow version and close ups under the cut

Griddlehark malevolent AU,,, in which ¿investigator? harrow gets possessed by kiriona, a piece of an entity (can't decide if said entity is John, the King in yellow [BC of his personality and connection to Gideon], or Alecto, the Queen in yellow [BC she kinda sorta IS an elder god in tlt canon]. In whichever case the creepy yellow eyes just WORK).

only similitude between Harrow and Arthur might be the parent trauma. And the ghost/demon/possession shenanigans (they both get possessed every five minutes it's so... Funny? Sad?? Funny?). And the sword/chest plate/ knight aesthetic (Arthur just got a rapier like an episode ago!!!!)..... And the religion/god/faith issues. But still. I got obsessed with this idea and I had to draw it. You can pry this concept from my cold dead hands... If anyone GETS it please let me know, otherwise I'll just feel like I'm losing my mind......... Okay bye....

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I really like how this one turned out the only problem is I think harrow didn't turn out looking harrow-like. Idk what it is. Something in the vibe idk.

I was using the word search function to see if anybody else had talked about a tlt/malevolent connection and I found this post which called me out greatly. And also this one.

[idanit]

ok now i need to know about your niche country-specific jeeves AU

"Every valet takes great pride / in cooking what his husband likes" an edit of a makatka by @maidblues

(You've probably forgotten about sending this ask. I almost forgot I had a reply sitting in my drafts.)

This is incredibly niche and very hard to do for numerous reasons, but I've been thinking about a Polish Jeeves AU for a good while now. I'm not the best person to come up with the best way to cut almost all politics out from a story set in the 1920s in a country that has just become sovereign and is about to go through some further enormous transformations, so I'm not going to try very hard. Wodehouse's stories already take place in an idyllic sort of fantasy on the theme of interwar and postwar Britain, so I suppose a Polish AU would have to just lean into that even harder.

(Polish aristocracts lost their legal protections in 1921, but let's not think about it too much. Don't think about how you could possibly make "Comrade Bingo" work in a post-1920 Poland either. Etc., etc.)

So we've established that this would have to be some sort of barely recognisable fairytale Poland. But something in me is compelled by the idea of trying this out anyway because there are not a lot of wodehousian stories in Polish literature of the time. Not a lot of comedy without other genres mixed in in general. And one does wonder what it would look like.

Names are tricky. I want Bertram to be Bartłomiej or Bartosz (Bartek in the diminutive). @maidblues likes to give him the surname of Kogucik (rooster) and I toyed with the idea of giving him the Kur (another word for rooster) crest.

As for Jeeves's name, his case is more complicated because as far as I know servants in Poland were usually called by their masters by their first name, and the most common servant (as well as Polish in general) name would probably be Jan. So I'm tempted to make Reginald Jeeves a Jan Regulski or a Jan Reguła (reguła means "a rule").

This choice has the advantage of turning the "Jeeves?" / "Yes, sir?" exchange into "Janie?" / "Tak, jaśnie panie?". It rhymes. I find this amusing.

Servants at the time were overwhelmingly female, especially those who worked alone and for a single person/household, but we're going to ignore that.

Bertie is an aristocrat living in Warsaw, since it's the capital city, but his family is from some Mazovian dworek (manor house).

Aristocracy was not quite as much of an exclusive club as it was in Britain (some historians say it made up 10% of Polish society). Bertie probably says his ancestors fought at Grunwald, but he would likely bring up the Romanticism and the XVII century a lot as well, because they were as alive in the Polish public consciousness of the time as Middle Ages were in the mind of a certain kind of Englishman. Bertie could lean into something commonly called "the pride of the Sarmatians" (duma sarmacka).

Bertie's school is important. Everything depends on this, I think — Bertie's language, his friends, his club. Wealthy aristocrats did send their children abroad sometimes, so he could even have a typical British public school education even if he'd be unlikely to attend Eton and Oxford, specifically, but this feels like a cop-out, so I'm going to assume he was a student at some Polish university and not think about it too much lest I get caught up in the timelines of what university in what partition of Poland it would make sense for him to attend.

Bertie's way of speaking. My heart wants to make Bertie use some elements from the Warsaw subdialect because it's very fun and it would fit him, but regrettably, I think it's too working-class for him. I am fascinated by the idea of Bertie borrowing words from German and Russian in addition to French, though. He'd probably make use of some form of gwara uczniowska (student slang), too.

And Jeeves could know the Warsaw subdialect well, even if he would probably not use it while speaking to the members of the aristocracy (I'm pretty sure an early version of canon Jeeves spoke with a subtle Cockney accent, calling Bertie "guv’nor"). I wanted to make him a Warsaw local, perhaps with some family in the countryside, perhaps in the former Prussian partition, since I think the level of literacy was higher there and I need a way for Jeeves to have a chance of getting some education.

The Drones. There were no gentlemen's clubs, so I think the Drones would have to be a coffeehouse, a restaurant, or a szynk / pub called "Truteń"/"U Trutnia"/"Pod Trutniem". It's a significant change because they were not exclusive places, but it's the best I can think of. Coffeehouses in particular had a rich tradition as cultural places where people spent hours and hours on discussions. I think a Polish equivalent of a Drones Club could even serve as a tongue-in-cheek satire on artistic groups like Skamandryci. The Polish Drones would just have to take their gambling elsewhere. (@maidblues came up with another name for a Drones-like place that served food: Darmozjad. I love the pun — the word means someone useless, lit. someone who eats for free.)

As for the Junior Ganymede (Ganimedes), I think it would be a stowarzyszenie (club/society) without its own venue. Its members would probably meet at regular conventions. Here, I see an opportunity of some comedic nods to the tradition of "zjazdy", which in the centuries past were politically significant meetings of the aristocracy.

Bertie sings Mieczysław Fogg's songs.

Jeeves knows quotes from Mickiewicz and Słowacki (Polish Romantic poets) by heart.

Bertie is bi/multillingual enough to run off to Paris instead of New York City every now and then. Not quite putting an ocean between you and your aunt, but far enough for Ciotka Agata not to follow him.

I'm unlikely to ever finish writing anything for Jeeves in Polish, so, to finish things off, have this contextless excerpt from some draft of mine:

Mam na myśli tyle tylko, że podczas półtygodniowego pobytu, w którym jaśnie panowi udało się wpaść do sadzawki, zaręczyć, zostać pogryzionym, rozsierdzić Spodkowskiego i obrazić trzy stateczne matrony, choć nie dokładnie w tej kolejności, Jan ocalił mój ulubiony garnitur (bez krawata), zgrabnie mnie odręczył, opatrzył i odwiózł do Warszawy, a skroni jego nie zrosiła nawet mgiełka potu. Wspaniały człowiek. Obsypałem go, rzecz jasna, pewną ilością marek, ale wydawało mi się to zgoła niewystarczające. Dusza moja śpiewała, wolna jak ptak bez obrączki, a mój wybawca miał z tego tylko trochę świstków papieru, które i tak natychmiast wyśle rodzinie spoza stolicy — znałem go doskonale.

[kenobers]

just read your Obi-Wan mafia story...What about a Jason Todd mafia au 👀

ngl i think about this a lot bc one thing about me is that i love a good mafia au (not in a dark romance way) and i'm surprised they aren't more common in jason todd-batfam spheres. but i've specifically been thinking about the incredibly niche arranged marriage subgenre of mafia fics and jason quite a bit lately

Like always, Wayne is a prominent name in Gotham, but they're just as prominent in the criminal underworld as they are in high society. Instead of a fearsome vigilante, the Batman is an elusive mafia Don that only a few outside of the underworld know is really Bruce Wayne.

Your parents are District Attorneys working under the table for Maroni, a rival of the Batman. Maroni brings up your name to Bruce while discussing potential ways to marry their two families in an alliance. After all, Maroni has no daughters of his own and marrying you to one of Bruce's wayward boys would ensure your parents stay under his thumb. The idea of an arranged marriage is a little old fashioned to Bruce, but he thinks it might help rein in Jason, the most unruly of his sons.

So without getting much of a say, you and Jason get hitched. Needless to say neither of you are happy about the situation, but Jason's got a lot more attitude about it. He's cold, he's mean, he's scary. He's the most mysterious Wayne child, both in the crime world and regular society. So all you've heard about Jason is that he's violent.

Thankfully, he never seems to be home enough to prove whether or not that's true. When he is home, he hardly talks to you unless it's absolutely necessary or you're in his way.

At first you try to remedy the stiffness. You try making dinner, reading books from his shelf, asking if he wants to watch a show together, inviting him out with your friends. You know this isn't a marriage of love, but that doesn't mean you have to be enemies. It's nice to have a friend. However, he's stubborn. The more he ignores or sneers at your attempt, the more miserable it makes you. He looks at you like this is all your fault, like he's comparing you to the hook-ups you're sure he's having. It all just makes you feel like complete shit. After a few weeks, you just start glaring back.

It's frustrating. It's frustrating to have a moody husband that doesn't want anything to do with you. It's even more frustrating when you through in the whole mob situation on top of that. Of course you had your suspicions about your parents connections. Of course you already knew to look over your shoulder, to not say anything. But at least you didn't have to know anything.

You're not supposed to ask when Jason comes home with blood on his hands, but you always know what it's from. You know what the unlabeled packages hidden in your bathroom are. You know which cops to call if Jason gets arrested. You know which important figures are being paid off, which ones are secretly in the Family; including your father-in-law because on top of all this, you also have to be a Wayne now.

You can't see your friends as much because you might accidentally blab to them (and you're too paranoid to risk getting any of them in trouble). You can't explain to them why you married Bruce Wayne's son out of nowhere. You can't even talk about Jason to the friends that stuck around after your big 'reveal' was received as a slap in the face to your entire friend system. You just had to lie that you'd been keeping you 'relationship' with him a secret. You've been "asked" not to work until the powers that be are absolutely positive you can be trusted. Although you have a sinking suspicion that it's just a ploy to turn you into a housewife. It feels like there's always someone watching you, making sure you're behaving and keeping quiet.

All this for a husband who frankly couldn't give a fuck about you.

Maybe you should be glad that Jason ignores you. You've heard the stories about mob wives. You know that he could be worse. You'd rather have a husband that can't stand to touch you than one who puts his hands on you.

But still.

It's lonely.

At least Jason's siblings are nice. Dick's made it a habit to check-in on you and Jason once a week. Mostly on you, you think. Since he mostly swings by when Jason's out of the apartment. Dick is good company. He's easy to get along with, appreciates your cooking and is sympathetic to your struggle with being thrust head first into this life. But he never stays for long and he always looks at you with so much pity. Even if he is interested in getting to know his sister-in-law, you both know he's really here because he knows his brother is a jerk.

Once he let it slip to the other siblings that you make bomb cookies, they start showing up unannounced every now and then. They're weird, but they're fun. You would make more of an effort to form an actual friendship with them if you didn't think it would lead to arguments with Jason. You're not willing to risk your peace, even if it's miserable.

Still, you let yourself feel some satisfaction at the way Jason's temple throbs every time he comes home to find Tim and Duke have accidentally gotten sucked into whatever you're watching.

Months of marriage purgatory come to a head when Jason comes home in the middle of the night to find you drunk off your ass. It's your friend's birthday. You haven't spoken to her since your engagement to Jason was announced. If you had to guess, she probably didn't feel like she could trust you after you had to make everyone think that you just casually hid a serious relationship. She probably assumed you just didn't trust her. You sent her a 'happy birthday, I miss you' message, only to realize you'd been blocked. Which stung more than any bitch face Jason could ever make at you.

So you celebrate her birthday with a bottle of gin. Fuck it, no one's here to judge you. Until your meanass, killjoy excuse of a husband interrupts you by having the audacity to come home. Jason discovers you hunkered down on the couch, lips to bottle, scrolling pathetically through old pictures from when you actually had a life.

Jason rolls his eyes at the sight. He probably would've just gone to bed and left you to your own devices, but the contents of that gin bottle have been utterly depleted since he poured himself a glass last night. He's not about to risk waking up to see you've choked to death on your own vomit. Dick would never let him hear the end of it.

So instead he scoffs and chastises you, subtly trying to get you to explain why you're plastered without making it seem like he cares. He's expecting some swallow, 'whoopsie-daisies' response, but instead he accidentally opens up your floodgates.

You tell him all about your friends, how this marriage destroyed your life, how lonely you are. That...That strikes a nerve for Jason. He's been so frustrated with suddenly having to share his space with a stranger, that he hadn't stopped to think about how much of an actual change this was for you. To be roped into the mafia, of all fucking things.

"...This must all be so terrifying for you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. You look at him with sad eyes, glazed over with gin and dark with exhaustion.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Jason will never forgive himself for the fact that this is the first real connection the two of you have shared this entire time. He feels even shitty that it took him seeing you like this to decide to be nicer to you.

He isn't sold on being a husband yet, but he supposes he knows a thing or two about being a friend. And maybe it would benefit him if you knew a thing or two about being in the mafia. He would feel better about leaving you alone at home if he was confident in your ability to handle a piece.

He can't fix everything overnight, but this...this is a start.

[havenesc]

the "everything is the same but jason was a low-key horse girl AU" (bear with me here this is what i call....niche)

jason doesn't take anything for granted when he's newly minted as bruce wayne's newest ward, fresh ink on his adoption papers and no complaints towards the long hours of training that it takes to be molded into robin, boy wonder. he's granted access to everything he could ever want, everything he ever wanted to be. his biggest hurdle is the private school, with the children of the upper echelon, who cannot and do not want to relate themselves to him aside from what bruce's name gives him. the feeling's mutual; he can't relate to them any more than they can to him, and he oftentimes struggles with social situations. it's incredibly isolating at times, but he's batman's robin, so most days, it's enough.

batman and robin end up working on a case with a string of animal thefts when a murder turns up at the local stable yard not far from wayne manor. when batman is investigating, or interviewing the nightcheck crew for the yard, robin ends up having a moment with one of the horses who hangs his head over his stall door and tries to nip and nibble on robin's hair, his ear (tickles), his cape, his costume, until jason relents and gives him attention.

"sorry," one of the night checkers says, when robin barely stifles a laugh as the animal lips at his cheek, "he can be a handful."

this becomes a habit for the duration of the case -- if robin is looking for clues, or in general in the vicinity, he will seek out his nosy-ass four-legged friend with quiet eyes and a penchant for being too in his personal space.

all of this does not go unnoticed by the batman.

bruce, for what it's worth, has minor investments in the racing industry. it's a good way to get leads on bookies and crime cases, as horse racing tends to be rife with corruption and embezzling funds in gotham city -- that, and the first boy wonder saw 1979 classic The Black Stallion and briefly took an interest in horses himself when he was small enough to entertain the idea of jockeying. the wayne family had a string of polo ponies in the early 40s and 50s, and alfred grew up watching foxhunts in england. bruce is also aware how beneficial equine therapy can be, and in jason's case, how it may help him have an outlet that is not violence but is also not a thinly veiled attempt at networking through sports like tennis and lacrosse.

bruce asks one morning at the breakfast table, "would you like to learn to ride?" and at first, young jason snorts and waffles a little on his answer, because it's mostly girls at the stables, and he would encounter the same issues of upper echelon, but bruce simply says, "it could be a good skill to know," framing it in context of their other work, and it's enough for jason to be convinced that it's alright to want to be at the stables.

so he takes lessons after school, once a week first, then quickly switches to twice when he learns fast and outgrows his first lesson horse. alfred takes him -- he quickly becomes the old butler all the horses recognize with nickers when he comes down the alleyway, because he carries peppermints in his pockets, and where jason is, alfred-the-treat-bringer usually follows. bruce comes to watch here and there when he can, but he also wants it to be something jason has to himself. something jason enjoys, not because bruce asked him to do it.

jason finds that he does -- he likes riding. he likes the smell of the hay, the sound of animals chewing grain, the science of biomechanics in riding and how the horses are usually better companions than people. he starts helping out here and there at the stables where he can, and the workers grow fond of the wayne heir. he likes being there when he needs to cool down after a long day of school, he likes sneaking out to sit in the loft after a night of patrol or maybe the unsettling arguments with bruce. he sits in the stalls and he listens and even, yes, still gets harrassed by the same horse that initially introduced him to horses. it helps him regulate his emotions more when he's robin. it gives him the outlet bruce hoped it would.

moreover, he's good. he can ride out hot horses without fear, channel that abundance of energy into something productive and competitive. people start asking him to take on problem cases, or timid riders ask for tips from the fearless kid with guts and a velcro seat. the first time he ever competes, he sweeps his classes. even dick hears about it when alfred sends him a photo of young master jason, smiling and proud and holding a blue ribbon next to his infamous cheeky horse, and then another photo, when jason's face is buried in the neck of his horse, because bruce revealed that he bought it for him.

(this also leads to dick showing jason the same movie that had enamored him as a kid, and for a brief moment jason thinks of alec ramsay washed up on that island all alone, and feels in some kind of way a kindred spirit.)

even when bruce and jason begin to butt heads, and the fights increase in both frequency and tenacity, jason still finds solace in the stables. he never stops being offered horses to ride. he makes the time to compete, even when he has to get up at 6 a.m. to braid his horse's mane, but patrol ended at 4. his anger doesn't reach him in the smell of hay and sweet feed.

and then he dies.

bruce never sells the animal. can't make himself do it.

he doesn't visit -- visiting the stable aisles feels like visiting a crypt, and he can't snuff his grief long enough to reach the golden plaque that engraves JASON TODD as the owner of the horse. alfred comes by every once in a while, but not as often as he used to. the horses stop turning their heads in recognition.

when jason comes back as red hood, it takes him a long time to make himself go back to the yard. but when he does, an old friend still turns his head to him, ears pricked, eyes quiet but looking for attention all the same.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The Current event makes me smile since it kind of confirms a headcanon I had that the Great Seven have animated movies based on them. Makes me wonder about the plot of the movies

Disney should get on the Twisted Wonderland AU Animated Remakes. What is Ursula was a good witch, what if Scar was right to take the throne and did he take it from Mufasa? (Or whoever is the stand in for him)

The Evil/Beautiful Queen...actually GOOD?

Yeah, it makes sense! Since the Great Seven are historical figures and the stuff of legends, surely there would be popular media made in their image. It’s like how the Disney fairy tales borrow from stories in the public domain or how there are historical retellings and reinventions (Hamilton, anyone?).

I believe TWST has mentioned films based on their own stories and history before too, but purely in the animated sense rather than live action. In book 3, Ace and one of the Atlantica Museum guards talk about an animated movie based on the tale of the mermaid princess and her prince; this movie is said to have come out ~30 years ago, which corresponds with Disney’s animated The Little Mermaid. Ace compliments the movie’s soundtrack too way to stroke your own ego, Disney/j.

Later on in Tapis Rouge, the characters discuss other films based on the Great Seven, including one Queen of Hearts movie. A Sea Witch movie is also mentioned; in it, she “goes gigantic” and also sings as she brews potions. The Octatrio quite enjoy this particular film.

(Side note: Another anon once suggested to me that people probably also write fanfics of Neige and Vil since they’re celebrities… Think like “My mom sold me to One Direction?!” Wattpad kinds of fics, but replace One Direction with Vil or something. You can read those post here!)

It’s… interesting this event specifically has Vil promoting a live action adaption of an in-universe animated film about the Beautiful Queen—an animated film which was the first full-color animated movie AND it originally released close to 90 years ago. They also reference the funding issues that Disney suffered while producing Snow White + inviting bank employees in to preview the movie to acquire more investments, stating that the studio that made the animated Beautiful Queen experienced the same. The in-game live action is even slated to come out “NEXT YEAR”. They’re not being subtle here with TWST’s references to their own version of the irl Disney Snow White (the live action is coming out in 2025, the OG is also almost 90 years old, etc.). I wonder if the EN server will actually get Tapis Rouge around the time of the irl release of Disney’s live action Snow White as part of a promotional campaign? 😂

UPDATE: There are even more not-so-subtle references to Disney animations in part 4 of the event, including discussion of cel animation, rotoscoping, adding blush to the characters, and how Disney brought in real animals/observed the “real thing” to help with animating similar scenes or subjects. They also cheekily say that most animation nowadays is CG 💀

I know some books under Disney publishing try to show alternate tellings or show the villains in a more sympathetic light, but I don’t know that they would ever commit to fully animating a film like that. It definitely would not happen in the style of traditional animation, Disney no longer seems well-equipped to handle that task 😔 I feel like it would also be pretty niche or might not get overwhelming positive reception with recent audience calls for “true bad guys” instead of twist or sympathetic villains (though I’m not sure what percentage of people watching Disney actually have this opinion).

I do wonder how those “AU” films would work though…? It wouldn’t be as simple as suddenly turning the G7 into “good guys”. The scenario and other characters would also have to drastically change. TWST doesn’t necessarily make the original “good guys” “bad” in a world where the villains are historical figures; we still hear plenty of positive or neutral stories about the achievements of the mermaid princess and other Disney heroes.

There are also times when the same story diverges into multiple separate stories that seemingly have no connection to one another. For example, there is a story where a princess marries a street rat (clearly referencing Aladdin) and they live happily ever after in spite of the difference in their social statuses. However, there simultaneously exists a story in which the Sorcerer of the Sands saves a princess from being deceived by a fake prince (also referencing Aladdin). The same goes for the mermaid princess (Ariel)—there is both a story referring to a “mermaid princess” who married a human prince and also a different story (clearly still pulled from the same film) about a mermaid who made a deal with the Sea Witch to find true love but broke her contract in the end.

Very cool idea, just not sure where it would lead or it it’s feasible or worth it monetarily for Disney.

[gallavichthings]

Gallavich Masquerade 2024

Let's have a New Year's Masquerade Ball!

This time it'll be a mixed one, for fic writers and fanartists! The fanworks will be revealed on December 31st and people will have up to January 31st to cast their votes.

As you now know, in a Masquerade, creators (fic authors and fanartists) will produce their works anonymously. These fanworks will all be revealed at the same time on December 31st - our New Year's Masquerade Ball! - and fans (previously called readers and admirers) will have a month to attempt to guess who's behind each mask, that is, who made what. Creators are encouraged to try to fool everyone!

Details after the read more, but don't forget to please spread the word. This will be fun!

Requirements

All fics must have between 2,000 and 5,000 words. For art, there are no requirements. (Needless to say, AI "works" are not allowed.)

No theme is required or forbidden, but, as this is an event in which the goal is to have as many people checking out our work as possible, fanworks in niche categories are not advised. Regardless of what you do, please tag accordingly.

I don't know what to write/draw about!

You can get inspiration from anything you want. It can be canon-compliant, canon-divergent, after the show ended, AU...

But, if you still need some ideas, you can find some here, here or here (not to mention @callivich always has tons of prompts lists).

Sign-ups

Signing-up is required and can be done here. For this event, sign-ups can be done up to the time of posting. Unlike other events, this is one where you will need to sign-up only at the end, after the fanwork is done. You'll be required to add your AO3 username and the title of your fanwork.

What if I don't have an AO3 account?

Then I'm very sorry, but in this case, you won't be able to participate (as a creator). For this event, having an AO3 account is mandatory so that you can post in the collection. That being said, a lot of people have AO3 invites, so ask right now and someone may be able to send you one.

Posting

Posting will be done on AO3 and AO3 only! This is because the Masquerade Collection will be unrevealed and anonymous. All posting must be done until December 29th. On December 31st, all fics will be revealed and available for the readers. (The two days different is to ensure that everyone has posted before I reveal them.) The fanworks will remain anonymous until January 31st, when the game ends. (Please take note that this may be extended if there are a large number of fics). On February 1st, the authors' identities will be disclosed (and your fic will appear under your account just like any other fic).

As an creator, all you have to do is, when posting on AO3, choose to do it under the Gallavich Masquerade 2024 Collection (as in the picture below). I'll take care of the rest. It's important to do so when posting and not after, or it won't work. You can go to My Works > Works in Collections to confirm that it worked.

Voting

Voting will be done via a new form, which will be disclosed only after the fanworks are posted. All titles will be displayed and fans will chose from a menu who they think the creator is. This time, voting is mandatory in all three guesses. If you don't know who to vote for or if you haven't had a chance to read a fic, for example, just take a guess. Also, you might as well guess three different creators to increase your chances, even if you think you're sure who it is.

Points

There are two ways of winning this game, as a creator and as a fan.

Creators are awarded 1 point for each person who correctly guesses their fic/fanart on the first try, 2 for correct second guesses, 3 for correct third guesses and 7 points for each person who wrongly guesses it (that is, matches three different creators to your fanwork). That's right, you get more points if you're actually able to deceive everyone.

Fans are awarded 5 points for each fanwork they guess correctly on the first guess, 3 for each correct second guess and 1 for each correct third guess (obviously the points are only awarded once, so there's no need to guess the same work more than once). No points are being deducted this time.

Creators can also be fans, so they have twice the chance of winning. There will be separate winners for artists and writers.

Prizes

Winners will get boasting rights! XD Plus, of course, a special post for them.

If anyone would like to make fanworks for the winners (like art for the winning writers, fics for the winning artists, edits, whatever), please let me know, that would be super nice!

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

Ford getting jealous of his younger counterparts part getting horny over Stan kills me. Like, wdy mean man, he’s YOU!!!!

GOD YEAH i have the conclusions that ALL fords are ridiculously possesive over their stans while also completely delusional enough to believe they deserve to have every single stan out there. you put one ford in a room full of stans (across all ages mind you) and he'll be all well clearly i have a duty to take care of every single one of you

OH AND A BIT OF A TANGENT BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I HAVENT SEEN YET BUT WOULD BE FUNNY AF? a 2Fords that takes place in the present day PRE weirdmageddon. due to some rift or bottomless pitt bullshit it spits out a young teen ford randomly right infront of the shack. a young teen ford BEFORE stan broke his machine and even got offered a spot in WCT. they take him in, and to prevent fucking up the timelines they have to keep details of how the mystery shack became the mystery shack shut and spin a lie about how stan just found his calling and ford works downstairs.

teen!ford latches onto older version of his brother IMMEDIATELY— with no decades of resentment and "you made a MOCKERY of my lifes work" angst attached, he would actually be SO proud of Stan for finding his niche, when everyone told him his brother would be a failure, here stan is a thriving business man! him and his brother get to work together! ford is probably kinda famous and praised around these parts too if he's allowing stan to use his discoveries like that! and sure theyre not sailing around, but in his perspective this is a really good life for the both of them, especially when he hears ford went to college and got a bunch of phds. its not like ford ever let himself dream of anything besides stanley (because this is before the wct offer).

with this life its almost like theyre married, and ford with his still huge and untainted feelings on his brother is kind of giddy about it.

old ford is ofc an asshole who wants to burst his bubble so bad but cant do that so is pushing him away instead by locking himself down at the basement to send a way to send his younger self back. this ends up being so great for teen!ford and for stan tho. teen!ford gets to hang out with stanley— and moses stanley grew up incredibly well. all chiseled and huge and looking INCREDIBLY good in and out of the suit. especially out when he realizes stanley turned out to be an incredibly hot bear when he sees his belly out and hes just. not normal about it. hed be on stans side like glue and is just ENAMOURED by him.

and stan LOVES this ford, he loves him. this ford is, while still a nerdy brainiac know it all, is the ford he knew and loved before everything turned bad. they have a fucking blast together, this ford makes him feel young again and looks at him like hes begging to be pounced on all the time. he wont because he cant taint the kid like that but! who knows! he thinks the best part is lowkey how much it pisses off HIS ford too. Ford would be glaring at the way stan has his arms around teen ford across the room while hes yapping and teen ford is looking at him all heart eyes, or how stan has him close all the time and how his younger self is such a clueless .selfish brother stealing bitch as if his hands are completely tied.

the eventual climax being that hes gonna catch them making out (initiated by ford ofc) and either doing the correct thing to do (telling teen ford the whole truth) or the smart thing (fuck stanley right infront of his teen self and claim that it doesnt matter what happens, stan you only belong to ONE ford at a fucking time and in THIS time itd me and istg i will travel back in time to fuck you in the past for revenge for this while teen ford is both mad cockblocked and super into it)

sorry again for the tangent but this 2fords au kinda grabbed my brmy the throat while i was answrring dhdbdhdb

[improvapocalyps]

Stale blood caked Cleo's armor as she dragged herself through paradise. Gods below that sucked, she thought, that really sucked. They ignored the colorful birds that swooped overhead, disregarding the cloudless sky and brilliant sun that cast down gentle rays upon her green skin. What was the point of indulging in something that didn't exist?

Dust, Flesh, and Bones, by @pattonscribe

“Death!” she called, a hoarse quality to her voice, clutching tighter onto Etho’s body as their army of the dead went onwards to protect them. “You— this wasn't what I wanted!”

before we lose the sound of our own mouths calling mine, mine, mine., by @kanda-franca

In participation of MCYTblr AU Fest Summer 2024 hosted by @mcytblraufest!

I feel incredibly lucky and honored that two(2) writers decided to pick up my niche af AU pitch! They knocked it out of the park with their fics, please check them out !!

[Some behind-the-scenes ramble and close-ups under cut]

My AU's ao3 equivalent tag is "Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses", specifically drawing inspiration from Khelren's Godsend TTRPG setting (though you do not need any knowledge of the ttrpg to enjoy the fics):

In Godsend you roam the lands as the avatar of your god, cursing mere mortals and presenting gifts to the chosen ones. Your memories are numerous, made of the lives of your predecessors, your power is almost limitless. Will you use it to fulfil the will of your god? Or, as the end times draw near, will you try to save the world? 　(from the itch.io page)

I had my heart set on making Clethubs AU (to no surprise of anyone's i'm sure) so that's the main characters/ avatars settled- but who shall be the gods?

There are 6 domains in the Godsend setting: Death, Justice, Knowledge, Nature, Trickery, and War.

To me, it was obvious to put Bdouble "moss" O100 under the Nature domain, and Zombie "zombie" Cleo under Death. Then after some comtemplation Etho "free glass" sLab was slotted underneath Trickery.

What remains is to find the Hermist/ Traffic-lifers that are 1) connected to the domains 2) related to the avatars.

(fyi i drew all those feather strokes manually by hand with my lineart brush) (why? well,)

Grian came to mind immediately when I thought of "Trickery" (Though Cub, Scar, and a couple of other Hermits also fit). I wanted to build the god-avatar relationship on the Etho-Grian dynamic specifically.

Scar was chosen based on his S9 theme (wood elf) and his history with Bdubs (S7 mayor race). Baiscally the concept of King maker/ Second-in-command Bdubs was stuck in my brain. (Sorry Stress :[ )

Death was a trickier one. While it would be funny to have Grian-Scar-Mumbo to be (half of) the pantheon, Mumbo fit the Knowledge domain better. (ignoring his Peace, Love, and Plants deal for a sec; even then I think that's more Nature-aligned) so I went with the classic option of Zedeath.

Beyond this point (until "===") is me overanalysing/ blue-curtaining the black & white piece. You have been warned (/silly)

This piece's composition used a circle/three-parter as its base, witih the circle centred on the castle/city in the middle of the map. Etho was fully isolated in Grian/Trickery's third of the space, but Nature crossed over into Death's space easily the two domains are closely related imo. It was natural for things to end (death), and endings fueled the next cycle of nature life.

It seemed that all the gods are looking at the world/map, however since their pupils are obscured (non-existent in Scar's case) it was difficult to say for certain. Though you might be able to tell where their interest lie, if you look at the distance between the deities and the mortal realm and where their hands rest.

Death carefully rested his elbow on the line separating him and Nature, but his left hand was dangerously close to Bdubs. And it looked like it was ready to come down and press direcly onto the corner of the map, tilting or even flipping the chessboard over. In his right hand held the scythe, posed to swing. The edge of his scythe faced Cleo, pointing towards them like he could harvest their life whenever at his whim.

He also looked at the world from directly above (though you could say he was biased towards Cleo's point of view since he's not centered+ he was positioned behind them), meaning that he saw all lives as "equal", or have an especially detached but not uncaring view regarding the world (like a scientist looking microorganisms in his petri dish).

In contrast, Grian/Trickery leaned in close to the world, lowering his head so his eye level was almost at the ground level of the world. Like he was looking through the mortals' point of view, understanding the state of affairs through humans' moralities and values (through Etho, even, since Grian was positioned behind him).

His eyes were wide in anticipation. While he carefully kept his hands close, they were also touching the world directly; which was a thing no other god did in the piece. It was like he was waiting for the right moment to reach out and disrupt whatever that's happening on stage. As we all know, no matter how much Grian tries to restrain himself, he will press the button.

Scar is the most... detached/ distanced from the world as a whole? He reclined backwards, his visible hand resting on his knee. He might be looking at the world, or he might be looking at Grian, or was his attention on bdubs? Even with the signature :J smile on his face, he got this air of indifference. Maybe Nature believed that everything will run their fated courses without his influence.

The flowers on Scar's clothes were sunflowers (sides of his corset), roses (back of corset and forearm), and a very specific lilac brush I had to download. Flowers that were closely related to a certain series :3c

Shoutout to w4r (War for Rayuba) for the chessboard map idea. ily octs It's really funny that Bdubs, Cleo & Etho all start/ were currently standing on black tiles (<- did not count the tiles and only realised that after i started to fill in the black)

Let's talk (more) about body language and outfits and black-white ratio (I am Reaching here) (not that I wasn't in the previous part) (but I am Reaching even further)

Etho has a very clear cut B&W shading with minimal grey/cross-hatch areas. He is the least ink-blocked. He knows what his beliefs are and the lines that he will/won't cross.

He has a semi-relaxed stance, tilting back slightly. He has one hand on his hip but the other by his side remain open-palmed. He isn't not listening to new proposals, but he is considering (and judging) them carefully.

Bdubs' moss cloak and boots has a clear divide in b&w, but not his outfit (pants)/headband. Both the cloak and boots are nature-aligned: cloak is, well, made of moss; and boots to walk the earth, the only thing separating him and the dirt (though at the same time, supporting him).

Nature is clear in what it wants. While there may be bright parts mixed in shadows, and flecks of shade within the "light", Nature holds a firm stance based on layers and layers of understanding.

Bdubs is also reaching out with an open palm. He is open for dialogue, perhaps preaching/ prompting others to communicate as well.

Cleo is the darkest/ most shaded among the three. She has highlights on the edges of her armour, but overall her armour is mainly shades of grey. Unlike Etho/Bdubs whose outfits' base color is largely white/empty, the visible parts underneath her armour (gloves and pants) are solid dark. She is dressed for blood and combat. It also gives the impression that she has this fierce determination/ conviction (darker tones being more "serious").

Her posture- legs wide, slouched/ leaning forward- makes her look aggressive/ stressed. Her hands are balled up into fists, one of them holding onto the flag/banner (of Death). Even then, the way she holds the banner isn't one that says it's for morale. She holds it like a spear, like a weapon.

There's also something about fabric/ extra fabric on the characters.

Etho has the least fabric on him but he has this shawl wrapped around himself. And the shawl itself is very still/ motionless. Bdubs' outfit is very round and gives like a grounded/soft vibe while the ribbon around his head drags behind him. but Cleo has neither of those, the only fabric that waves in the air is her banner which is outside of her body/not connected to her.

=== === ===

The composition of my 2nd piece aimed to imitate the playbook's cover art (illustrated by Vash Taylor), with the slightly faded background and wispy banner. The path of the smoke meant to mimick Cleo's face stitches (as how I usually draw them), where it crawls up her right cheek, crosses her nose bridge and passes through her eye.

Shoutout to "google search: zombie hands" stock photos and silhouette images, they saved my life when I was struggling with the foreground.

If you read through all this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and hope everything will be going splendid for you in the month of August!! Even if you didn't and just swiped past after realising there's too many words behind the read more I wish you the same :D

Once again, please check the fics if you are interested in the AU!! Dust, Flesh, and Bones is a multi-chaptered long fic and before we lose the sound of our own mouths calling mine, mine, mine. is a 9k one-shot! They are both so dear to me I hold them close to me heart,,

[illusivedelights]

Call of Neighbors (König & Horangi Neighbors!AU)

Part 1

.....ok this one's really more for me. I just think they're both neat and I like 'em. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

They're roommates in this AU! But not in that way y'all. This house is a nightmare LOL.

König

He is either somehow the most unassuming giant of a man or the most unintentionally really awkwardly off-putting guy you're going to meet.

Honestly it's not intentional, he just kind of doesn't know how to act properly/is slightly tone deaf.

He's quiet for odd pauses because he's either trying to practice what he says in his head or he's overthinking it a little.

He honestly hides his social anxiety well if you get him to talk. He'll sound pretty confident when he speaks/can come off a little arrogant (but that's really his way of masking his anxiety. 'If I sound confident enough, they can't tell' mentality.).

It's a hard adjustment and can piss some off, but when you look underneath it, it has sound reasoning and sincerity.

Lot of folks find him either a bit tough to approach or deal because they don't want to go beyond the superficial and he's kind of got a not so good rep, but he's used to it.

Honestly the really old folks are probably the ones who understand him the best/look past all the nonsense. He finds comfort in it and looks after them in his own way.

People always assume the worst in what he's doing, but then they see he's actually just doing normal stuff. It's a bit of a running gag. ("OMG! He's totally getting ready to bury a body!!" Actually he's trying to rake this elderly neighbor's yard because she's in a lot of pain, he just forgot to let her know he was doing it, and also he's a dingus that just makes it look like that).

You're gonna know cause you're gonna see this oaf awkwardly hang around and look like he's trying to do something. (He is trying to approach you, he really just doesn't know how.) He wants to show off to you about all the cool things he knows and can do and will talk to you for what seems like ages. (But it can come off abrasive and strongly opinionated)

It's his way of saying he wants to spend time with you and likes you. (And dear God if you can make it past it, still like him and interact again, he's sold).

Hobbies

Housekeeping (Ok hear me out, he's a pretty clumsily dressed guy and joined the military at stupid young teen age; but I think people would complain and once he moved out, he was like oh.)

Cooking (He's not really happy with the quality of food/lack of food he wants, so he has a "Well I'll make it myself then"/"They can't make it like home")

Antique/ Item Hunting (He likes trying to find things that remind him of home or his childhood or fits a specific niche he enjoys).

Community Service (mostly helping the neighborhood. He likes keeping it nice and safe.......in more ways than one)

Competitive Games (He's kinda garbo though, but trying to get better. But he can't help but get competitive regardless. Heskindaasoreloserthough.)

General Perception

That One Creepy Big Guy Who Doesn't Talk a Whole Lot.

Big Guy

Terminator

Lovely Young Man/Strapping Lad (by the elderly folks he helps)

Horangi

Neighborhood's local really aggressive Korean man. He's not even angry most times, he just talks like that.

He just doesn't like wasting time, and in his mind time is precious for everyone so he just doesn't mince words and just wants to get to the point. ("Tell me what I need to do to fix it and I'll do it.")

This behavior can be misinterpreted, so people assume he's just being insufferable.

I think he's actually really popular with cranky old men because he can keep up with them, throw it back easily and they don't take any offense to it. Do not approach if they're all shooting the shit, the conversation is indeed insufferable. (Good men but Jesus, they can complain).

Didn't want to bother with the pain of fronting the cost of living fully by himself , so he approached König about it because honestly König isn't too much of a hassle to him.

Left to his own devices, he's doing side gigs a lot, so he's in and out a lot of times.

He is a good character foil to König being the way he is and they bring out very honest facets of one another by accident. If you wanna speed run seeing their personality, just hang out with the two of them.

People jokingly wonder if he's a K-Pop idol because he often wears his sunglasses and a face mask. (It actually kind of annoys him because he's trying to keep a low profile and it's also been said mockingly to him too many times.)

Despite not being home a lot, he's actually really tidy and a neat freak. He will get slightly exasperated by uncleanliness or if certain things aren't the way he wants it.

You'll know with him because you make him pause. He's pretty much snappy with everything, so if you actually make him go quiet and think, you got him hooked. This man's tone and actions will be a bit more.....deliberate in between his usual self.

He is actually surprisingly clingy but in the way of "I want to be around you a lot during my few free moments, even if it's not doing anything productive" You make him actually want to waste time.

Hobbies

Cars (I feel like he has a light fascination with cars and mechanics of it, probably a 'I don't have this so it's fascinating' note. He wouldn't want to own one, but he has appreciation for sports cars)

Boxing/Sparring (A way to get out some aggression at times and solitary so he doesn't have to worry about most things. Probably a meditative act)

Cleaning (Probably a habit of covering his tracks, and is just oddly really good at it)

Side Gigs (they're mostly legal, trying to stay on the up and up, old money making day habits die hard, he's the guy who knows a guy from these things)

General Perception

That One Angry Korean Prick

Loud Guy

Angry Idol

Mr. Sensitive (sarcasm)

Bonus: The Roommates' Dynamic

Obviously this one's a bit special because they share space. So, extra HC time!

At a surface level, you'll think they probably actually hate each other because of how aggressive they talk and seem to butt heads.

But in reality, it's just two really nitpicky and straightforward people bantering. Plus working in the line of field they do, they're just both solution oriented and way too comfortable using coarse language with each other. ("Why the HELL is your shit laying around on the floor?" "I literally just put it down, I'm cleaning the tabletops?" "YOU DON'T THROW IT ON THE GROUND." "IT WASN'T THROWN." etc.)

Despite how they are, nothing's ever done in genuine mean spirit. They're just honestly two guys who are bad at talking in different ways but they mean well ......in their own way.

König is definitely more of a homebody and the common areas are more of his style of decorating. They actually have somewhat similar tastes so it works out, but if you look closely you'll see bits of Horangi's flare. ("I'm hardly around. Decorate how you want.")

They're particular about cleanliness in their own different ways, so they clash.

Both are living in a place with no family/have no family, so they're each other's emergency contacts.

It's definitely more of a roommate/coworker you live with situation. They don't actually have many hobbies they share.

They kind of keep each other in check honestly.

OK I FEEL THAT'S ENOUGH FOR THIS POST. IF ANYONE ELSE WANNA KNOW MORE JUST IDK. ASK. OR ILL POST ANOTHER LATER.

[archangeldyke-all]

Here's my Sevika request again. Hopefully it won't get eaten this time 😅

Modern AU here? Sevika is a streamer on a streaming platform who primarily plays fighting games. And she is VERY GOOD. Good enough to compete in tournaments, which she goes to frequently, and does pretty well.

Reader has been friends with Sevika for a while, and is a mod in her stream. But there is some subtle tension between them. They've flirted a little here and there and even sent pics back and forth to each other over time, both friendly and flirtatious. Aaaand one tournament weekend they finally meet in person and all that tension comes to a head after they hang out and go back to someone's hotel room 👀

LOVE

forgive the lack of video game knowledge, all i play is fortnite and stardew valley

men and minors dni

you're one of her first loyal subscribers.

you become obsessed with a niche, ancient video game, that practically nobody's heard about before. sevika's the only streamer you can find who plays it. it's love at first sight.

sevika's incredible at everything she plays, she rarely takes more than two tries to beat a level. she's just one of those people who can pick up a video game and master it in one go.

sevika knows your username, she's seen your selfie-- compressed into the little icon by your name, but that's as much as she knows about you besides the fact that you're one of her favorite, funniest, loyalest subscribers.

at least at first.

about a year into you watching her, sevika starts getting really popular, out of nowhere. she hesitantly reaches out to you, dm'ing you with a quick message, asking if you'd consider being a moderator for her. you agree happily.

sometimes you guys send each other memes. you like taking ugly screencaps of her mid-word or bite of food and sending them to her later, you like the frustrated, pissed off responses it gets you.

she likes casually flirting with you-- which always makes you swoon a bit.

that's about as far as you assume the relationship will ever go.

until you bump into sevika at a gaming convention.

she seems to notice you staring. of course, she doesn't know you're you, but she assumes you're a fan. she approaches with an easy smile that makes your knees a little weak, and she reaches a hand out to introduce herself.

you quickly introduce yourself, and watch in fascination as sevika lights up, leans in to hug you, then pulls away at the last minute. she chuckles awkwardly.

"s-sorry, i just... i've never seen you before. you're..." she trails off. you raise an eyebrow at her, and giggle when she ducks her head in embarrassment.

"i'm what?"

"you're my favorite moderator." she says, shrugging. you giggle.

"you're my favorite streamer."

"are you here competing?" she asks. you laugh.

"me? no. just watching. as always." you tease. sevika grins.

"well. i'm glad you're here. i always do better when i know i've got someone good watching." she says, winking.

sevika wins the tournament. you'd just come to watch for a while, but upon realizing sevika was competing, you stayed to watch the entire thing.

she catches you afterward, giggling and grinning as she runs over to you.

"hey!" she calls. you smile as she approaches.

"hey big winner." you tease. sevika grins.

"so, do you live around here?" she asks. you nod, and sevika's smile grows. "me too." she says, giggling. you raise an eyebrow.

"really?" you ask. "what're the odds?" you ask. sevika bites her lip.

"do you want to maybe like... get drinks or something?" she asks nervously. it's strange to see her fiddling with her hands instead of cool and confident and holding a controller.

"i'd love that." you say. sevika grins, her hands clenching at her side in excitement. you smile and grab one of her fists, and sevika's smile only grows wider.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PURSUIT // PROLOGUE

Series Synopsis: When your cousin goes missing right before he can challenge the Champion of your region, you must embark on a journey of your own in the hopes that one day, you might finally find him — wherever he may be.

Chapter Synopsis: Your cousin, Shoei, sets out on his journey, leaving you behind with a final gift as a farewell.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Barou & Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.5k

Content Warnings: pokémon au except i make the world emo and infest it with blue lockers, angst, character death, familial bonds, found families, male-female FRIENDSHIPS, a slow burn so insane the main love interest isn’t even in a solid amount of chapters, it’s my world i do what i want which means liberties are taken, near death experiences, this story is long bro literally everything happens in it the amount of arcs i have planned is insane, original characters because reader will NOT be the only girl i refuse to write in conditions like that, this is being written as if gen vi is the last generation to come out because i cba to catch up on new pokémon lore

A/N: this is SUCH a niche crossover i’m actually crying but ykw at least it’s different from the typical aus LMAOOO anyways um please be sure to read the warnings and if you enjoy this then like…reblog or comment or send me an ask or smth HAHA (only if you want though i can’t control you)

tag list (send an ask to be added): @sharkissm

The last time you saw Shoei Barou, he was pressing a Pokéball in your hand. His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his typical scowl on his face, and his Houndour sat at his feet, wagging its tail at you. The surface of the Pokéball was glimmering, ruby on top and a pearly white on the bottom, and because you could not bear to look at him, you trained your gaze on the watery sunrise it reflected.

“She’s yours,” he said. “I registered her under your name.”

“Guess that makes me a trainer, too,” you said.

“Don’t start on your journey for a while,” he said. “Or else you’ll catch up to me. Wait until I’m good enough that I’m someone you want to chase after, and begin then.”

He was embarking on his journey later than usual, but you had no doubt that he’d quickly surpass those with five or even ten years of experience on him. Shoei was like that, and so was his Houndour. What they lacked in battle prowess, they made up for with dogged tenacity, and it was impossible to imagine either of the two struggling for any amount of time.

“I won’t,” you said.

“Good,” he said. “Look, she’ll probably be better off if you just leave her in her Pokéball until you start training seriously, so don’t worry about that.”

“Won’t she get bored?” you said. He shook his head.

“Being in the Pokéball is a kind of stasis for them. She’ll know the time has passed, but it won’t be the same as if she were actually living it. It’s better that way, trust me. She’s the destructive type, and I won’t be around to help you if she acts up,” he said.

“Ah,” you said. “I see. I’ll do as you recommend, then.”

He reached out and placed a hand atop your head. You swallowed, staring at the dirt path beneath your feet, the worn toes of your old sneakers, the frayed cuffs of your too-short jeans — anything but him. You couldn’t bear it if it was him.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you sniffed, though you had sworn to him so many times that you wouldn’t cry.

“You’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I promise.”

“Yes,” you said again. His hand balled into a fist, and then he knocked it lightly against your brow. Unlike you, he was smiling, and you did your best to quell the trembling of your lower lip when you made eye contact with him.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Enough with the bawling, okay? How am I supposed to call you my cousin when you’re like this? We can’t be related if you get so upset about every little thing. That’s not how it works.”

“I can’t help it,” you said, and then he sighed, hugging you tightly. His Houndour barked, rubbing his head against your calf, which was the only method the small Pokémon had of comforting you. “I can’t help it, I know I should be happy but—”

“Be happy,” he commanded you, letting you go and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N L/N. Be happy. I’m going to be Champion one day, and that’s nothing to be sad about.”

“Will you come back home once you are?” you said.

“No,” he said. “No, of course not. I’ll be busy with the duties of the role. Have you seen how many television appearances Mr. Mikage does? But I’ll bring you there with me, you and your parents and mine, and all of us can live there together. Is that enough of a consolation?”

“Okay,” you said, even though it really wasn’t. But it’d be a cruelty to stop Barou, akin to clipping the wings of a Pidgeot and telling it to fly. He was as restless as his Houndour, who even now sat and stared out at the horizon instead of the home it was leaving behind. The both of them were turbulent, impossible to cage, and if one tried to hold them back, then they were little more than a brazen fool.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he said. “Try not to be to sad without me, alright?”

The Pokéball was cold and heavy in your hands as you watched him and Houndour walk off. Neither of them turned back, not for a moment, and then they were over the crest of the shallow hill in the road which led to the nearby cliffs, disappearing from your line of sight for good.

“Y/N!” It was the same boy again. He had been bothering you since you both had entered secondary school, mostly because that was around the time that Shoei had begun his league challenge. Of course, he had obtained all of the gym badges in quick succession, but conferences were only held every four years, and so he had had to wait until the next one before he could attempt to storm through it and reach the Elite Four, hence the delayed interest in his talent.

“Hello,” you said. He had never bothered introducing himself to you, and you were at the point now where it would be awkward for you to ask, so you generally pretended like you recognized him and hoped your conversations never grew to be too long.

“Did you hear the news? I mean, he’s your cousin, so of course you did, but still, still, can you believe it?” he said.

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“Barou!” he said. At the mention of Shoei, your Pokéball grew warm against your hip, and your left hand instinctively flew to the thin chain around your neck. “He’s actually done it — he beat Noel Noa!”

“Noel Noa…the last Elite Four member, right?” you said. The boy nodded at you. He was grinning as hard as if it were his own cousin who had mastered the league, or indeed as if he were the victor, but the truth was that besides you, there were very few in the entire city who could claim to know Shoei, so his pride was unwarranted.

“Yup! No one’s ever beaten him but Mr. Mikage,” he said.

“Well, Mr. Mikage is the champion,” you said. “So what’s next? Does he battle Mr. Mikage?”

“Pretty much,” the boy said. “Although he’s allowed to take his time in between and train his team. The conference win and Elite Four victories are only prerequisites, but it’s not like you have to do it all at once. In fact, hardly anyone ever does. Your team needs to rest in between battles, and besides, challenges to the Champion position are so rare that they need time to set it all up.”

“What do you mean, ‘set it all up?’” you said, sitting down at your desk at the back of the classroom. The boy didn’t usually sit with you, but today he was too excited, so he collapsed rather awkwardly in the chair at your side, leaning over with his elbows digging into his thighs.

“Didn’t you know? All Champion matches are televised!” he said. “The entire region will be able to see him battling. He’s amazing, you know.”

“Of course he is,” you said matter-of-factly. “That’s good that it’ll be filmed. It’s impossible to get tickets unless you’re a league official or have more money than you know what to do with.”

The boy coughed, his face turning red. Your eyes flicked to his belt, which was conspicuously devoid of any Pokéballs, just like the rest of your classmates, and then you curled inwards when you once again recalled that amongst your peers, it was only you who required the league-issued stipend for trainers to afford your tuition.

“Anyways,” he said, pursing his lips — a reminder to you that he had sat in the stands of the last league conference and was in fact one of those such types that you had been referring to earlier, “I’ve heard they’re thinking of moving towards broadcasting the entire conference andany Elite Four challenges instead of just the Champion matches.”

“Really?” you said, eager to change the subject. He nodded.

“Yup, it’s the case. The TV studios and news stations have been pushing for it. As long as they can throw in some advertisements and sponsorships between the battles themselves, their profits will shoot up like crazy,” he said.

“Well, that makes sense,” you said. “Why hadn’t they implemented it earlier?”

“They’ve been trying, but supposedly, there’s been a lot of pushback from some of the league officials. They think they’ll lose money if people can just watch battles online, since there’ll be less of an incentive to buy tickets to watch them in person,” he said.

“Ah. So what changed their minds? Aren’t the league officials notoriously stubborn?” you said. He snorted.

“That’s what my dad says. He’d rather deal with a Slaking than any of them,” he said. You couldn’t quite remember what his father did for a living, but if you had to guess, it was something financial-related, given the boy’s unnatural interest in the field. “Apparently, they tried it out in Johto to great effect, so they plan to give it a go here in Kalos as well.”

“Interesting,” you said. “I guess it doesn’t mean much to me now, since Shoei’s already through, but I’m sure it’ll be helpful to someone or another in the future.”

“Maybe we’ll see you onscreen next, eh, Miss Trainer?” he said. You rolled your eyes at the nickname; coming from him, it wasn’t so horrible, but it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, you hated when the others brought up your trainer status, because it only set you further and further apart from the rest.

Of course, almost everyone had a Pokémon or two as a companion or to make the activities of their daily living that much easier, but there was a difference between a Pokémon owner and a Pokémon trainer. Trainers were the ones who were registered with the government, who were sent a monthly stipend by the league to pay for their and their Pokemon’s upkeep, and who made a career out of the sport. At least, that was what they were supposed to be, but nowadays, genuine trainers were few and far between; more often than not, those with the distinction were like you, with a single Pokémon that had never known the heat of battle and a desperate need for the extra income that their status, passive though it might’ve been, brought them.

The school-issued Gogoat that was designated to escort you home trotted along beside you, its tail bouncing with the gaiety of its pace, its ears perked against the wind as you went along. You sometimes wondered if the Pokémon you supposedly owned was anything like that, but based on Shoei’s description, you had mostly decided it wasn’t.

“Thanks for taking me back, Gogoat,” you said, patting it on the forehead when you reached your doorstep. It bleated at you, nuzzling you happily and then bounding away. You watched it go with a smile, incredibly fond of it though you knew it wasn’t actually yours — just a vehicle assigned to you because the school knew that most of its students weren’t proper trainers. The institute didn’t want to be held liable in case there was some kind of an attack, so the Gogoats had been trained to accompany students to and from their classes as well as to protect them as best as they could.

Supposedly it was a common practice, one that had been invented in Aquacorde Town, but there they used Arcanines instead of Gogoats, so privately you thought that those of you in Coumarine City got the better deal.

“Mother?” you said, peering into the kitchen, smiling when you saw her there, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. “I’m home.”

“Y/N!” she said. “How was school today?”

“It was fine,” you said, self-consciously drumming your nails against your Pokéball. “This guy told me that Shoei’s going to challenge the Champion soon. Mr. Mikage. They’re going to film it and everything. We should ask Uncle and Auntie if they want to come over and watch with us.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she said. Shoei’s father, your uncle, was her brother, and they had remained so close throughout their adulthood that it felt at times like Shoei was less your cousin and more a genuine brother of your own who occasionally slept in another house. “Imagine if he can become Champion!”

“He will,” you said, unclipping your Pokéball from your belt and setting it on the table, where your mother’s Espurr was sleeping. At the movement, she sat up, giving the unassuming ball a disgusted look and climbing to the top of a shelf where she could continue to nap. “All everyone talks about is how strong he is. There’s no way he’s losing, especially if he beat Noel Noa.”

“It’ll be great for the family,” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “And for him.”

“Do you know when the match is scheduled for?” she said. You shook your head.

“No, I don’t. The guy said people usually take a break in between defeating the Elite Four and challenging the Champion, so that their teams can rest and all. I’m sure it’ll be announced well in advance, though. It’s not everyday that somebody fights Mr. Mikage himself,” you said.

“That’s true,” she said. “In the meantime, how’s this for dinner?”

“Looks good,” you said, though it was out of distraction, not approval. Your mind was racing as you tried to picture how the battle between Shoei and the Champion might go. Would he look different? Of course, he would have to, it had been a while since you had seen him last, and it might be a while more until you saw him next, depending on how long he took to put in the formal request to battle. Two weeks, or maybe even three.

Yet weeks turned into months, which turned into years, and still he did not appear to face Mr. Mikage. Eventually the excitement faded into a distant memory, and soon, if his name was brought up at all, it was as nothing but the Never-Champion, the one who was too frightened to fight against the undefeated head of the league and the Mikage Corporation alike.

At first you weren’t worried, but as time stretched on, you resorted to begging the police, the local Gym Leader, anyone who would listen, just for a chance at finding him. Yet one by one, they each refused. After all, what could be done? He was a top trainer, they worked in mysterious ways, everyone knew that. Any day now, he would reappear and that long-awaited battle between himself and the Champion might finally happen. Nothing about the situation was abnormal in the slightest. Maybe the cowardice was a bit uncharacteristic, but otherwise? There wasn’t any cause for stress.

And so, for that reason, nobody but you ever thought of actually looking for him — they never even knew that they had to.

[blue-rose-soul]

Love ur au!!! You have so many interesting thoughts I just adore reading everything you’ve posted!

You’ve already established that Alastor would have exactly zero interest in any sort of bond with his dearly detested sperm donor but I was curious as to what you thought on whether Lucifer would want a relationship with Alastor? How would he approach that?

Hey, much appreciated! Honestly, with the first post I expected it to be a weird niche AU no one besides me would enjoy. I'm really glad you and others are enjoying it and I'm enjoying you guys' questions!

I do think Lucifer would want to try forming a relationship with his long lost son (that feels so weird to type, imagine how weird it would be for Lucifer to say the phrase aloud, lol). From what we've seen of him, he seems like a loving and sweet man who adores his family, even if he's not always the best at expressing that love. I think if he found out he had a kid out there, no matter who that kid was, he'd want to form some kind of relationship with them. Of course, Alastor being Alastor complicates things quite a bit.

They didn't exactly make a great first impression on one another, on top of which Lucifer harbors a lot of guilt for leaving Nicaise to raise a child alone, and Alastor to grow up without a father. Especially when he learns what happened to Nicaise later. Lucifer thinks it's his fault Alastor is the way he is, which... kinda sorta fair? Alastor definitely had an unstable childhood which certainly played a part in Alastor growing to become an unstable adult. That being said, ultimately there were a lot of outside factors contributing to that instability, and at the end of the day, Alastor's choices were his own.

I go with the 'Dexter-like moral code' interpretation of Alastor's murder targets. But I also think there was a fair amount of disproportionate retribution. A man who beats his wife definitely deserves to get beat back and then divorced, but not butchered like an animal. Granted, the culture being what it was at the time, it's doubtful Alastor's targets would have faced any other kind of retribution than what he gave them.

All this to say that Alastor feels perfectly justified in the horrible things he's done, and Lucifer blames himself for Alastor becoming this warped, vengeful person.

Lucifer's attempts to get close to Alastor are horribly, painfully awkward. Remember how he answered Charlie's phone call with, "Heeeeeeeey, bitch!"

Yeah.

He tries, he really does, but a lot of the times Alastor just shuts him down before he can even open his mouth. So he tries going to Charlie for help.

"Ooooof, see, here's the thing, dad... I want to help, I really do! But I'm trying to do this thing where I'm more respectful of other people's boundaries. I mean, I'd love to see you and Alastor getting along! But if he doesn't want to talk with you, I'm not going to force it? As long as you guys aren't fighting? I'm sorry."

And that's as far as Lucifer gets with Charlie. So he tries talking to Niffty and Husk, the two people in the hotel who know Alastor best. Niffty is... sweet, but not entirely helpful. Husk gives what advice he can, but he's got his own chip on his shoulder regarding Alastor, understandably.

"Look, Alastor's a mean son of a bitch who lives to make my life more of a hell than it already is. He's fucked in the head. Always has been. You might as well cut your losses."

That's disheartening to say the least.

I do want there to be a happy-ish end where reconciliation happens. But it would take a loooooooot of time and patience on Lucifer's part. Especially with Alastor making an active effort not to get close with anyone at the hotel.