#Temporary AU fanfic

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Pray For Us, Icarus (series)

For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

Length: 65,836 words

AO3 Rating: Teen and Up

Best for: Safe in Public, At Home, Human AU, Canon AU, Angst, Romance, One Sitting

Triggers: Temporary Character Death

Read it here, fic by Atalan

*Minor Spoilers* There's nothing I can say about this story that probably hasn't already been said. It is one of the most popular and well-known Good Omens fanfics, and for excellent reason. I know for certain that I'm not the only one who has wept while reading it. Today was my third time with this story, and, whoops, I cried again.

I've tried to express my thoughts in this post in a few different ways. I can't wax poetic about how much I love this story—my writing skills just aren't there. And much of what I've tried to say feels redundant. I even had a whole paragraph comparing it to the themes in this art by chernozemm which is how this story feels to me.

What I've settled on is that you should read this story because it is intrinsically Good Omens Fanfiction. This series only works as Aziraphale and Crowley, and you could not repackage or retell this story for any other fandom, or, God forbid, traditional fiction. All the emotions we feel reading this come from the intimacy we already have with this world and these characters. The story, and the author, know we can read between the lines. Thus, it can drop a simple line and have us crumple because we already know the subtext behind it. That's why I am so addicted to fanfiction! I'm not saying this is the only story that has accomplished this. But I do think it's one of the most successful.

This series, in my opinion, must be read all the way through. In my eyes, this is a singular work and no one should be skipping any part of this saga. It bothers me that the hit counts between the parts is not equal. The first part has 99k hits and the final 47k. The drop off is criminal! Every section of this story is important and critical to the full picture. So if you read the first part, Flowers for Anthony, and did not proceed to the rest of the story, please get on this!

Completely safe in public, but if you can, I really suggest you read this one at home in one sitting. You'll want to devote all your attention to this story. If, for some reason, you haven't read this one yet, please make it a priority! This is one of the most heart-wrenching and romantic stories I've ever read, and it deserves its spot as a fandom classic.

Read it here, fic by Atalan

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Pray For Us Icarus #Atalan #long #no spice #temporary character death #angst #romance #safe in public #at home #human au #canon au #pre s2 #through the ages #one sitting #memory loss #flowers au #marriage #fandom famous #faves of the blog #flower shop au

[castrian-amore]

Bitter had the Heart

Dead Tired(Tim Drake x Danny Fenton), Tim Drake-centric, unfinished, the author is plotting, temporary character death, please check out ao3 for full tags list

3/46 Chapters | Chapter Length: 3584 words

Chapter 3: We are Not Translating Fanfiction

Tim didn’t understand why he had even picked this class for this particular credit. He technically didn’t need it. Then again it seemed more interesting than the other classes and Tim had been hoping for a challenge for once. The teacher was big on working as team and while, yeah Tim could do it. He preferred to work alone on his topics and thankfully there was an odd amount of people in his class so when he requested to do the group assignments he allowed it. 

Until today. 

One Daniel “Danny” Nightingale, was a late transfer into the class for unknown reason. It was also the mysterious kid in the alley. He looked a little better in person but the vote was that he was definitely sick, whether just right now or long term had yet to be determined. He leaned heavily on a cane at the moment walking with a heavy limp.

Tim could point out his handsome features though. The higher cheekbones. The stunning raven hair, his piercing blue eyes. The kid definitely wasn’t immune to the streets. The way he held himself on the verge of running. The sunken wary eyes. This kid was far too comfortable with living in fight or flight mode. If he even knew anything else it would be surprising. 

The teacher pointed to Tim giving him the spot right next to him advising sitting next to the person he would be partnered with. It wasn’t required by any means but it certainly was an option, and he did. 

“So, now that that’s out of the way, where was I? Oh yes the IPA. The International Phonetic Alphabet.” Professor Kaivan began his speech as Danny pulled out a piece of notebook paper and pencil sitting next to Tim. 

“Uh, hi, I’m Danny,”The kid held out his hand and Tim shook it. A cold chill going up his spine from how cold he was, damn. 

“Tim Drake-Wayne,”he introduced with ease, expecting the man to back away or at least move seats because of his name. The Wayne name caught most people off guard but Danny seemed unfazed by it all. In fact he didn’t even flinch or stutter or reel at who he was talking to even. 

“Nice to meet you Tim,”Danny gave him a bright smile. “Apologies for having you stuck with partnering for me after I’m already a late transfer.”

“No issue. Can I ask why you had to transfer?”Tim raised an eyebrow at the man. Their words quiet as the professor droned on. 

“I was in Latin, and I can fluently speak and read latin. The professor kept getting things wrong and I kept correcting them. They kept insisting because they’re the ‘professor’ but I kept insisting I was right, which I was. She didn’t like that so she kicked me out. She got so annoyed she refused to teach me. Thus leaving me with about to loose my credit I really needed this semester so I asked if I could late transfer into another language based class.” 

“And here you are?” 

“Here I am. Only teacher that was willing to give me a chance.” 

Tim snorts a little. Tim had only almost been kicked out of a class one, and that was one of his law classes. Tim kept correcting the professor over and over and over again, and it kept pissing off the professor so bad. Tim had a sneaking suspicion he was going to like this guy. He just hoped the guy was as intelligent as he seemed. 

Being fluent in a dead language was no easy task. None of the bats were fluent in a lot of dead languages but they all knew several spoken languages and a little of a few dead ones. Tim more than others. Books were always his specialty. He preferred to spend the house researching alone in his room or the bat cave. It was part of the reason the other claimed he had a coffee addiction. He did not by the way. He didn’t know what Dick was even talking about. 

“Professor Kaivan is pretty relaxed about that kind of stuff. He assigns minimal homework and prefers to do the group projects over everything else.” 

“Yeah his rate-my-professor score is pretty high.” 

“Sounds about right,”Tim agrees, turning back to the topic at hand for the moment. 

“Now, learning the International Phonetic Alphabet is not for the faint of heart. Having someone to listen and assist when learning this is vital. One of the many reasons everyone in this room has a partner. Learning it is vital for the rest of your success in this class. Breaking down specific sounds a language makes and making it easy for everyone to read any language in this format.” 

Professor Kaivan was an interesting man. Until four and a half years ago he had some of the worst rate your professor scores, but it was rumored that after the death of his partner he sobered up and wanted to help people. Since then, he has been a great teacher. Using his partner method to teach people, becoming a caring professor, giving students days in class to study and work on whatever work needed to be done. He wasn’t a super hard professor to have. 

His hair was graying as the man was into his late 40s going on 50s. Sideburns and his beard graying though. He dressed pretty chill too, half the time coming into class wearing a casual cardigan and a beanie. He was an accomplished guy with a full on doctorate in linguistics. Masters in Psychology and bachelors in the study of Italian. Most of his focus seemed to be on the intricacies of the Italian language but Tim was fluent in Italian and didn’t care to take any of his italian classes. Not that the man had many. 

“I know the 107 letters can be difficult and if you don’t know what to listen for they can sound similar to each other, but that’s why this whole unit is just on breaking down the IPA, and making sure all of us can read, and understand it. Okay?” 

Mummers of okays and yesses echoed through the lecture hall. Tim opened his phone, scrolling to Dick’s phone number and clicking on it. 

Timmy Boi: Guess who just walked into my Linguistics class as a late transfer?

Dickie Bird: Who? 

Timmie Boi: Alley kid

Dickie Bird: No fucking way. Is he that rude in person?

Timmie Boi: No not yet at least. We’re partnered up for the semester though, so plenty of time for me to find out heh. Dude’s got a cane. 

Dickie Bird: So not our so-called mystery vigilante Jason wants us to meet?

Timmie Boi:  Unlikely, He also looks sick as a mother fucker Dick. Like it’s bad. 

Dickie Bird: Damn, so still no leads until Friday? 

Timmie Boi: Unfortunately not. Cams still distorted as fuck with those symbols?

Dickie Bird: Just like all the others. Only copies we have are hand drawn references. No one can get a clear pic. 

Timmie Boi: Anyluck on the Distortion dude? Anything on him?

Dickie Bird: Uhh, he showed up 3 years ago? Works for Jason mostly. Started as a runner, then became body guard and personal protection for a lot of the shipments going in and out of Jason’s domain. That was only after bribing over 15 inmates too. 

Timmie Boi: How the fuck did Jason keep someone, a meta namely, from us for so long? 

Dickie Bird: Who knows. One guy said something about protecting a child. The child is Jason’s guard dog. Brutal when he needs to be. Maybe he’s scarier than he looks? People kept quiet over fear? 

Timmie Boi: You’re the people person, but even then if people are scared we would have heard something else. I just think we have something else in the picture here that we’re missing it all. 

Dickie Bird: Well, any cameras he passed by that night went to static. I had Barb check it out for us. 

Timmie Boi: So his gift can mess with cameras? Only mildly concerning. 

Dickie Boi: Wait, why are we having this conversation right now Tim? You’re in class?!?!?! I’m leaving you alone. Pay attention, and don’t fall asleep, and DRINK WATER FOR ONE IN YOUR CAFFEINE ADDICTED LIFE. 

Timmie Boi: YOU CAN’T STOP ME DICK. I’M GETTING COFFEE RIGHT AFTER THIS. 

Speaking of coffee, he could probably get mystery-dude’s phone number for their homework and stuff. Maybe he could even get coffee with him and help him with his classes. And maybe find out more about that night in the alley. 

“What are you doing after class?”Tim spoke up to look over at the man. Danny wasn’t even paying attention to the lecture. He was… drawing? Way better than anything Tim could draw that was for sure. Maybe he would get along with Damian? Tim liked the easier stuff, taking pictures. He could draw but he didn’t like it nearly as much as being able to get behind a camera and take some beautiful photos. Man, he should get back into that again. Dick was always pressing him to get back into a hobby outside of crime solving. He liked to stick with what he was good at though. 

“Oh? Uh nothing really, just contemplating existence. Why what’s up?”Danny gave a soft shy smile. Oh no. His smile was cute. Also wait, contemplating existence?

“Well, I figured if we’re gonna be stuck together all semester we could get coffee and talk about the project and get to know each other a little better.” Tim could watch a wave of anxiety slip over the man. 

“Well, I don’t know maybe,”a small shrug then a quiet moment of contemplation. “Actually, sure that’d be nice!”  

“Great!”

“Wait, we already have a project?”Danny’s eyes widened looking from his doodle of something? Tim couldn’t make it out but it was pretty? Looked like a pool of swirling water sketched in a gray scale. Who knows. This guy must have been so distracted he didn’t hear the teacher’s words about their project. Rewriting a speech in a non-english language into the phonetic alphabet. 

Tim couldn't help but laugh a little at him. 

This caught a small look from the teacher and Tim stifled his laughter a little even as Danny began to fight his own laughter as the two looked at each other. That was so dumb. Why was he even laughing at that?

“I’ll explain after class.” 

“Sounds good to me, I’m just sitting here… doodlin’.” 

“I see that..” Tim gave him a smile as Danny chuckled himself turning back to his drawing. The man stretching his arms upwards turned to actually pay attention to the teacher. A small frown coming across his face noticing the thin spindly scars edging up the side of his neck across the back of his neck. What the fuck was that? He shook his head. 

Tim stayed mostly alert the rest of the hour long class. Kaivan had started going through the various letters of the IPA and their origins and why they were chosen. It was interesting to say the least. He had learned a lot and the class was definitely different than what he was used too. Danny on the other hand. 

Fuck Tim hoped the dopey smiles and spaced out stared was how he payed attention or their partnership was going to be a lot more strenuous than he originally thought. He swore he saw him falling asleep a couple times there before jerking himself awake. Not that Tim could blame him. He averaged only about 3 hours a night if he was lucky. Then again, Tim didn’t exactly play the whole “catch up on sleep” game. 

It did take a gentle nudge from Tim to get the man away and on their way to the coffee shop. He was slow as he walked with the cane but Tim didn’t say anything about it. Everyone had their little quirks and issues. Lord knows Tim had his. 

The cold autumn air in Gotham was settling around them. 

“What’s your major?” It was Danny who spoke up with a quiet smile. 

“Oh, business. I plan to take over my father’s company,”Tim replied. 

“Wow, impressive.” Danny looked up at the sky with a small chuckle as Tim raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Thanks, what’s yours?”

“Engineering, I was going to do Astronomy but we’ll the Gotham Skies aren’t exactly the clearest.” Danny chuckled softly as Tim gave a nod. 

“The smog helps no one. Glad you found a major you like though.” There was a silence settling between them but it didn’t lessen the mood in fact it almost felt welcomed in a quiet way. 

“Same to you!” Danny looked up at the crows stopping the duo in their tracks. There were almost 10 crows just watching them. Tim, had never seen that. All them staring at Danny. “Boo.” The man whispered and with a small chuckled, all 10 flew off the branches and into the air leaving Tim to watch and then follow. Missing how the birds simply landed up ahead. 

Tim was sort of lost in thought about the revelations they could possibly have about the whole Distortion situation. 

“Heyo, Timmy,”Danny’s voice dragged him from his thoughts and his slow pace holding the door open. “Don’t hurry up and you’ll be soaked.” He hadn’t even noticed a slow drizzle starting to fall from the sky. He held his hand out before running to meet the man. 

Tim joined the man into the warm coffee shop. The scent of pumpkin spice filling their noses as they moved to get in line. 

“Didn’t get too wet did you?”Danny asked concern surprising Tim. 

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me though.  I might be more concerned for when we leave here though.” 

“I’m not too worried.” The man gave a nonchalant shrug. “Can’t kill me worse than I already have been.” Was that a death joke? 

“Oh?”Tim gave a smirk. He wasn’t normally one for puns, those were Dick’s thing but also… Dick wasn’t here. “Did it have you rolling in your grave?” Dick could never find out about this but then Danny’s shit eating grin only widened across his face. 

“Oh, for sure it was to die for after all.” 

“I can’t I’m sorry,”Tim laughed with a smile. “What’re you getting? I’ll pay since I invited you out.” 

“Oh, I might scare you with my order.” 

“I promise you won’t. Mine is insane myself.” 

“One of those extra large pumpkin spice lattes with 10 shots of espresso.” 

“Extra large americano with 8 shots of espresso,”Tim quipped. “I see you’re a man just as insane as I am.” 

“Oh, for sure. I’ve never met someone with an order just as bad as mine,”he admitted as he stared up at the menu. “How are the sandwiches here? Are they pretty dead-licious?”

“Oh god..” 

“Or I don’t know, pretty frightful?” 

“Please Danny.” 

“I bet they’re boo-mbastic.” 

“Who ever uses that word anymore.” 

Okay Halloween was coming up admittedly. Yes there were halloween and fall decorations coming but, but god dammit Danny. It was like having another Dick around. 

“You decided to fuel this.” 

“I did not decide to fuel anything!”Tim complained just as they got to the counter ordering their coffees. It was a barista Tim was familiar with. A kind girl named Sarah who seemed to be all too familiar with the two of them. 

“Oh! Can I also get the mac and cheese please!”Danny offered another charming smile putting some money in the tip jar. “I can pay you back Tim.” 

“No worries.” Tim gave a shrug. 

“Alrighty and here you are Tim.” Sarah handed him his card back with the receipt as he himself put some money in the jar. 

“Damn, she knows your name?”

“I know you too Danny, Mr. 10 shots of espresso at midnight last week. You also fucking work here.” 

“Love you guysssss, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Danny practically purred out with an innocent smile. 

“You two together, scare me,”the barista motioned between the two of them. “But honestly, we were waiting for you two to meet.” 

“I’m innocent,”Tim vouched.”Also wait, what?” 

“I watched you order an extra large cup with only espresso shots in it for Finals last semester.” Sarrah refused to answer the apparent group that had been waiting for Tim and Danny to meet each other. 

“I was busy!” 

“You weren’t sleeping!” 

“Anyways I’m going to go over there,”Danny pointed to an empty table by the window. 

“Yeah, Tim. How about you go over there. With your little Date,”She emphasized the word as Danny was already over sitting down unpacking his backpack onto the table. 

“He’s not my date! We literally just met!” 

“Yet. Next in line please!” 

“Sarah-- no-- I swear to--”Tim could have sworn he saw an exchanging of cash behind the counters. Were they betting on something. What the fuck were they betting on?!? He hissed and moved to join Danny in the opposite seat. 

“So did you even catch what the group project is? How much have you studied of the Linguistics 101 class anyways?” Tim pulled out his laptop setting it in front of him. He logged in giving a small smile of the silly chaotic and group picture they had gotten last year at Christmas. Bruce stood on the far right and Jason on the far left Dick’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. Damian was trying to stab Tim again who was moving to dodge it. Steph chaotically cheering the gremlin on. Cass quietly wondering if she should intervene in the middle. Duke full on panicked at what was going on as it was his first Christmas with the family. Barb covering her mouth in laughter in front of Bruce. He wanted to make sure she was included. It was his favorite photo of him and his siblings. 

Fuck. Danny had been talking to him. 

“Earth to Timmy.” A wave of a hand in front of his face. 

“Please just Tim,”he laughs. “Sorry, yes?”

“I was asking about the IPA. Are you familiar with it? I have no idea on anything about it.” 

“I know like half of it? I’ll have to learn the other half,”he admits. “But yes, the project.” 

“Fuck, yeah okay what’s this project?” 

“It involves reading.” 

“No! WHY!” 

“In another language.. That neither of us speak.” 

“Oh god.” 

“Yeah, so we’re supposed to write down a 1,000 minimum word speech, or chapter from a book or whatever and put it into the International Phonetic Alphabet.” 

“I don’t know about you but I speak a lot, like A lot of languages.” 

“Yeah.. I feel the same way.” 

“What do you speak?” Danny playfully pushed Tim’s computer screen down from booting up the program the professor had given them to use to type out the phonetic alphabet. It was still apparently a nightmare program, but he had decided to type it so he wouldn't be deciphering shitty handwriting. 

“Mandarin, Chinese, Italian, German, French, russian, Japanese, tagalog, spanish, I think that’s all of them?” 

“You speak Tagalog too!” Danny’s words switched with ease to the language. 

“No fuckin’ way,” Tim had to laugh at that one. “What else do you speak?” 

“Same things are you but, Esperanto, Swahili, Cantonese, javanese, Sardo(technically a dialect but you know same difference),  Ukrainian, I think that’s all?” 

“I thought I was the Polyglot. Oh! I also speak ASL and BSL.” 

“I know bits and pieces of ASL, definitely no BSL though,”he laughs softly. “But wait what other languages does that leave?”

“Well, a lot but I mean. We could always pick an easy one we both know.” 

“Italian?” 

“Yeah, please. I do not want translate someone in a non-latin based alphabet. It registers funny in my brain.” 

“I gotta ask though Danny… Esperanto?” 

“Okay, leave me alone! I had a friend who spoke it and taught me it so we could shit about others.”  

“That’s fuckin’ hilarious though,”he smirked. “But what should we translate?” 

Danny looked like he was about to burst out laughing. “What if we just fucking translated the Divine Comedy.” 

“Danny Nightingale, are you telling me we should rewrite one of the most famous works of Italian writing, ever. That is also notoriously translated, a lot? And is--- you know.”

“Ma Divine Commedia,”Danny laughed. Tim could not with him right now. “E la fanfiction Tim.” 

“YEAH I KNOW, that’s why I can’t believe you’re suggesting it.” 

“COMMEDIA.” Danny proclaimed with a snort. Fuck that was cute. Thank god his name was called to grab their stuff. He could ignore the small twinge in his chest as he brought them their coffee and the food for Danny. 

“Let’s get this over with I guess.” 

“YES!” Danny threw his first into the air in excitement. “This is the start a beautiful friendship Tim, I promise.” 

“Are we about to be nightmares to our poor professor?” 

“What? Nooooo.” 

“Oh yes we fucking are,”Tim rolled his eyes and smiled as he sipped his drink pulling up the original document. They were so fucked, but at least it would be funny. If Danny was his new partner for his class maybe Friday would come sooner than he thought. 

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#danny phantom #danny phantom au #dcxdp #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #batfam #danny phantom is a little shit #tim drake #dc x dp fic #tim drake x danny fenton #graphic depictions of violence #archive of our own #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #red robin #temporary death #tim drake robin #timothy drake #jason todd #red hood #nightwing

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

As Sunflowers Do by martilla will break your heart over and over again for 14 long chapters, and gingerly but lovingly heal it for 3 more. AU modern setting, Luffy has amnesia.

Hi there <3 Thank you so much for your wonderful recommendation!

As Sunflowers Do by martilla

“How is he?” He asks as soon as he reaches them. “I want to see him.” Chopper sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “We need to talk about something first.” “No, we don’t,” Law states and tries to calm down. “I want to see him now.” “You cannot, Trafalgar,” Serena interjects. He looks at her with eyes burning with concern. “The situation is not the best right now and you need to listen to us carefully.” Sabo and Ace are not looking at him, Chopper seems sorry and Serena is way too serious for his liking. “Can any of you tell me what the fuck is going on with my-” “He lost his memory,” Chopper blurts out. “The last ten years of his life have been wiped away.”

-Mod Raiya

#lawlu #lulaw #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law #lawlu fanfic #lawluffy #Modern AU #Amnesia #established relationship #background relationships #temporary amnesia #slow burn #explicitly lawlu #aged up characters #angst and fluff #happy ending #unreliable narrator #angst with happy ending

[randomnameless]

what do you think would realistically edelgerd's fate post AG?

We know Doylist wise she was Supreme Puppet'd to have her, somehow, survive (when we know how she reacts to military defeat in AM!) and removing all of her agency - Supreme Puppet was Puppet'd, so she cannot be hold accountable for what she did as Lobotogard, or with her regressed state, cannot be accountable the things she did with her mind intact.

I've already ranted about this special plot device to make sure the waifu escapes the axe and its sexist undertones, but damn if thinking about it to this day pisses me to no ends.

Faced with Regressed!Leader, Dimitri dgaf and moves on (or rather, away from her, reminiscing of AM - he has other things to do than to linger on his relationship with Supreme Leader).

I'd say -

Dimtri dgaf and leaves her to her own devices (which would be a nod to the "parley"? Now that Supreme Leader became one of the "weaks" what is she going to do? Bootstraps or rely on a support system she so much decried?) and move to Enbarr to put an end to the War.

But thinking in more serious terms?

His bannermen, friends and people wouldn't settle for anything else than Supreme Leader's death (maybe not on the gates on Enbarr?). She's the one who started this war and had so many people killed in her imperialist bid, so the only way Supreme Leader escapes death is with the Church.

Now, Supreme Puppet'd by Thales and maybe acknowledging Supreme Leader's second crust, Rhea might be more partial to her - she had been used as a plaything by Agarthans (hopefully she developped her racist tendencies after the experiments?) - and could see her as a victim.

On the other hand, she did start this war, and had more agency than expected given how she petitionned the CoS to war against the Agarthans who infiltrated her Empire - and yet, she still launched her attack on the monastery of her own free will.

Rhea is a compassionate person (Yuri still exists even after killing her knights!) so I think, with all things considered - Supreme Leader's status as a victim of Agarthans, Supreme Puppet and Lobotogard, but also, the war she declared and planned, sacking Garreg Mach, attacking the CoS both spiritually (the Southern Church thing was meant to be a direct "contradiction?" to what she preaches?) and martially, and MAGA > Peace - I'd say Rhea'd agree on not killing Supreme Leader, but at the only condition that she remains with the CoS, in something like her sentence will be to rebuild what she destroyed and mend the wounds she caused so that she might have a different outlook on Fodlan and its people (aka, not going all "i don't mind sacrificing them to reach my goals") when she will remember what she did/who she was, and/or will not become the same "tyrant" she was when she will "grow up" (mentally speaking?).

But that's at the only condition that she never gets to rule anything ever again or hold any kind of political power returning to Adrestia/Enbarr - if those conditions aren't met, she will be executed.

(and maybe to appease the people she's now supposed to work with, Rhea will lend her some old bottle of hairdye, maybe people will not see her as the former emperor who bled the continent for her whims, but as someone who is living a new life)

Rhea might thus "request custody" of Supreme Puppet and while the Kingdom might want her dead, the Church, as the main victim of the war, can have the last say (besides Dimitri might be relieved that Supreme Leader will not be executed), however, the Church asks to everyone present to tell their people that the "Supreme Leader who declared this war of unification died and is no more", maybe taking her crown and Aymr away, as proof she's "dead".

It sounds a bit too merciful coming from Rhea, when we see her in Tru Piss and with her history as Seiros the Warrior - but post!AG!Rhea imo is in a different mood, first of all, with Thales gone there are no people who will target Nabateans because of their race (so no genocide PTSD anymore?) and/or try to make new relics, and unlike the events of FE16, Rhea spent the last few years living with humans who demonstrated they could be trustworthy and actually helped her when she was in need (tfw Rhea doesn't know about Dimitro).

I can see her having more faith in humans and a future in Fodlan for everyone post!AG, as Dimitri and the Kingdom people seem to be trustworthy, than in FE16 when all of the events we play through in WC are basically triggering her genocide trauma (people hunting bones and crest stones, killing Jerry, turning her beloved wards in demonic beasts, some people targeting her for no plausible reason (unless the Western Church knew she had pointy ears?), Hresvelg becoming the new Nemesis, etc...)

That being said...

If Clout tries, during the epilogue, to take a shot at Rhea - when people are celebrating the end of the war - I cannot see things not turning sour for him.

Granted, if you want realism, Clout and GW cannot function because they expect the people involved to be completely stupid, but for this AU's sake, let's say Clout and Dimitro had their heart to heart in Zahrofl, he holds her at Failnaught range and demands her death/resignation/removal of her church.

If he shots and kills her (because Rhea would have dropped her guard, thinking she is surrounded by allies!), I cannot see anyone/anything preventing Claude from being dismembered/slaughtered in the seconds after Rhea's death - not even Dimitro because, hey, Clout said he will accept the consequences of his actions to "change" Fodlan, right? - by Church forces, Kingdom forces and, if we want to push the realism card, even Alliance forces (why the fuck did he do that? Maybe it's a weird doppelganger like those dark mages use! Or Erwin will behead him himself - sure this guy did that, but he doesn't represent the Alliance!).

In the chaos and confusion following Rhea's death, Supreme Leader is executed ("if she never started her war, nothing like this would have ever happened") and Fodlan is fucked when Sothis eventually pops up.

If Clout only holds Rhea at "Failnaught range" and she wonders wtf and asks him to explain - while the entire host of people from, again, the Kingdom, the CoS and KoS, the former BL and maybe some peeps from the GD and Leicester are there - Clout gives his bonker

"Who steals your freedom and gives you an endless list of duties and obligations simply because you have a Crest? Who forces you and your friends into a bunch of unwanted marriages and positions of power? The church even forbids any official contact with outside regions! Not exactly great for Faerghus, right? Being as close to Sreng and Albinea as you are."

reasons, Rhea's first reaction might be to crush him (because now she's on guard!) but if Dimitro says this is not a matter partaining to Faerghus and would rather stay aside (which would throw a wrench in Rhea's previous belief that humanity can be trusted again!) the CoS/Kos, Kingdom and Alliance people might just call crap and bullshit and debunk his baseless accusations (rekindling Rhea's faith in people and Fodlan?) from Annette telling him that they already trade with Albinea, Duscur generals and even Dedue telling him they witnessed the Church helping them regardless of their place of birth, Ingrid saying that her marriage to Glenn had not be organised or planned by the Church, but out of the affection they both had for each other and Ashe telling him those obligations and duties he seems to resent don't exist because he has a crest, but out of a genuine desire to help people.

Maybe we can add Judith wondering wtf is going on with Clout-boy, has he forgotten people get responsabilities and duties because they want them or because Nobility exists well beyond Fodlan's borders? "And I thought you had more common sense than this!"

A Goneril bannerman/loldier might add that the Archbishop asked them to treat Almyran as something else than nuisances and parasites when she came to visit and left with an Almyran kid in tow, but hey - they always attack them for no reason and create strife in Goneril for no reason, haven't they attacked just before the Academy closed?

Basically everyone debunking his claims, Clout realising that said claims were sprouted from his ass so he gets some tissue and wipes it clean.

Clout then relents (tfw no allies to support him) and the Alliance's roundtable finally vote to elect a branch member of the Riegan fam as head of the House - Clout leaves Failnaught and departs "somewhere far away".

(maybe he returns as Almyra's King later on, or as a crown prince, with a treaty/offer of peace, wishing for prosperity between the two lands).

-> all jokes aside and in a more serious setting, even with Dimitro not outwardly condemning him, Clout's course of action would be frowned upon by every party - Alliance included - and depending on his involvment, Dimitro himself might be challenged by his vassals/friends "Sure it's not about Faerghus' safety, but are we really going to let this guy target and ice and bring more chaos by eliminating our ally - who repaid our hospitality with kindness and supported our war efforts - when the Alliance refused to assist us when the Empire swore to Make Adrestia Great Again and warred against us?"

Granted, in this more serious setting, Dimitro doesn't exist because the plot doesn't bend backwards to accomodate Clout so...

Even if Clout doesn't try to ice Rhea asap and waits maybe 8 months after GM's recovery and the end of the war, I cannot see the Lords of the Alliance - when they can try to do "business as usual" with the former Adrestia lands - endorse a military campaing against the Church to, uh, decalcify Fodlan's current order to put YOLO in place. Clout suggesting this is basically handing to Erwin/anyone reason enough to depose him from his seat as Riegan's representative (the alliance has more to win with rebuilding Adrestia/Fodlan than to wage a pointless war that will alienate everyone and leave their backs open to an Almyran attack), and he either runs away to Almyra or dies in a pointless attempt to start a civil war/rebellion to garner troops to target the Church.

For sure this looks like an ideal "and everything ends good AU!" but in a more serious setting, where people have common sense and don't suddenly hold idiot plot balls to make sure Clout seems to have a point... his POV doesn't hold under scrutiny and no one can normally follow him, unless they have another agenda (Make Leicester Great Again?)

#anon #replies #3 nopes #tbh if you want a serious setting in Nopes #erase GW from the plot #while I can see an alliance with Adrestia I can't see the Federation existing without serious civil unrest in Leicester #we bow to no king and no emperor cannot be overthrown in one night by Clout who listened to Barney #in b4 Supreme Leader when she recovers her memories still want to throw a continental war to unify the world #it will depend on how far in MAGA + lizards bad Supreme Leader was before the experiments #Rhea's anger at Supreme Leader is qualmed in this AG AU bcs she realises Supreme Leader was puppet'd by Agarthans #and yet actions have consequences #let her heal and help the ones she maimed #what happens in Adrestia though? I guess it's under Faerghus' jurisdiction #and it either becomes a hell hole or is a temporary hell hole until some random becomes Emperor or tris to make a government #maybe a republic? Even if we know how they end in the FE verse... #sorry anon i disgressed on clout when you asked about supreme puppet but #they go hand in hand in this game #and i happened on a fanfic i'm not fond of so here goes

[best-fanfic-trope]

Round 1: Amnesia AU vs. Modern AU

(Temporary) Amnesia AU:

whether permanent or temporary, someone forgets stuff!! this could lead to angst, or maybe something funny! who knows!

Modern AU:

your favorite characters have been relocated to our world! maybe this is an upgrade for them! maybe this is a downgrade. now they have to deal with regular things like kpop, taxes, and global warming

(Read propoganda submitted by our lovely followers here :) )

#bracket related #round 1 #round 1 part 1 #poll #temporary amnesia au #amnesia au #modern au #fic tropes #fanfic #fanfic tropes

[aroundthewaygirlao3]

Have you ever thought “what would happen if we dropped the characters from HSMTMS in an early-2000s-WB style teen drama?”

Don’t worry, I got you.

It’s summer on Martha’s Vineyard, where Gina is once again the outsider, sharing a little white bungalow with four strangers, all with pre-existing ties to each other. Things only get messier when Gina immediately falls for Ricky, the very recent ex-boyfriend of another housemate, Nini. EJ, her lifeguarding partner and housemate with his own mysterious reasons for abandoning his affluent life in the city for a summer of hard work among the have-nots, tries to warn her off Ricky, but she’s determined to make Ricky her first mistake.

As the summer unfolds, Gina finds that this little white bungalow may be the place she finds family, and that love is about a lot more than first impressions as EJ slowly works his way into her heart in ways that take her by surprise.

A Portwell Summer Romance AU inspired by White Houses by Vanessa Carlton!

#Portwell #portwell fanfiction #portwell au #portwell fanfic #gina x ej #gina and ej #ej and gina #ej x gina #Song Fic #inspired by Vanessa Carlton #White Houses by Vanessa Carlton #this one is going to bring the angst kids #Temporary Rina #you've been warned #aroundthewaygirl on a03 #aroundthewaygirl on ao3

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

unnamed Hellcheer AU snippet

vaguely modern au // eventually will include: a dash of diners, Americana, teenage rebellion, and cryptids 

I definitely want to turn this into at least a long oneshot, but for now it’s at a “vibes only” stage. It’s also a bit of an exercise to just letting myself writing casually so fuck it, I’m sharing it on here for now where it has a place to live while I figure out where it’s headed!

Chrissy hadn’t been able to stop watching him since he’d come into the diner. 

Tall, wiry, a head full of curly hair that was currently pulled back in a low ponytail. She’d never even seen a guy wear a ponytail before but there was something attractive in the way he did it. Very off-duty rockstar vibes, especially with the leather jacket he’d thrown on the booth seat across from him and the numerous chains and jewelry he was wearing. Another thing she wasn’t used to guys wearing. 

He was on his third cup of coffee and halfway through a horrendously giant Rueben sandwich—not that she’s keeping track. 

Because watching strange guys isn’t something Chrissy Cunningham does. 

She’s a good girl, who works waitressing jobs twice a week to add to her weekly allowance, has an above average GPA as a student athlete, and had been dating the same guy since she was in eighth grade. It all fits perfectly into her pink ribbon, cheerleading, peppy box that she lives in. She even still goes to church every Sunday with her family. 

Ogling at strange guys, who look potentially older than her and definitely are more hardcore than anyone else she’s met, was not an option. 

“You know you can just go talk to him.”

Chrissy squeaked as she jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. Whirling around, nearly jamming her thumb in the cash register, she was greeted by the unimpressed stare of one of the other waitresses. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Chrissy whispered fiercely. 

Trish arched an eyebrow and stayed silent. 

Which was all Chrissy’s anxiety needed to bloom and have her run her mouth. 

“I didn’t mean to, he’s just been here for a while. I’m making sure he’s not… loitering,” she finished lamely. She had to fight the urge to not turn around and glance at him again. 

For her trouble, Trish simply snorted and moved on. Leaving Chrissy to pick at her cuticles and the rest of her shift not looking over at the guy. 

Because the problem is this:

Chrissy and her boyfriend from eighth grade have been on the fritz ever since he left for college and she decided she didn’t know what she wanted to do. So she still lives at home and thinks about all of the ways he’s probably cheating on her and he laments on their weekly calls about how she’s ruining their life plans. Being at home also means that her mom is still controlling her life, even though she’s nineteen. She’s not even sure she believes in God anymore either, so she usually spends Sundays daydreaming the sermon away on a hard wooden bench.

All of the reasons she’s not supposed to stare at could-be rockstars are built on a house of matchsticks and she can feel the flames drawing nearer.

So when Melinda, the old chain smoking waitress that likes to clock out early moves to refill the guy’s coffee, Chrissy steps in. It doesn’t take much to convince her to head out early and that Chrissy doesn’t mind covering her last couple tables. 

She approaches his table, nervous for reasons she can’t even name. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t spill coffee all over his lap and mess this whole unknown thing up. 

But when he looks up at her and she becomes locked into his smile and big brown eyes, she knows she’s opened a Pandora’s Box.

#hellcheer #hellcheer fanfic #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #stranger things au #kathryn writes #kathryn writes: stranger things #eddie munson #fic: hellcheer americana #temporary fic tag while I figure this thing out!

[glacierruler]

Infinite Respawns: Stories About Those Who Have Been Chosen

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1

CWs: Death, Temporary Main Character Death, Gore, Child Death, mentioned animal death

Chapter Summary:

Virgil loses his family to zombies, and finds out that he doesn't die quite like the rest of them.

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @nebulous-astronaut

Words: 309

Please tell me if you'd like to be added/removed!

Masterpost | Next Chapter

Virgil had been five when he first died. It had been because of the zombies, they had ruined everything, they had destroyed his town, his family had been turned. His mother, and two year old sister had come home from the farm unrecognizable. Skulls ripped open, their brains leaking out. And his sister, his two year old sister, had killed him. Thinking he would become a mindless, flesh eating organism like them, he’d been surprised to wake up in his bed. He didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t know what was happening, all he knew was he had to get out of there, so he broke his window, and the wall around it, collecting the wood planks automatically, and he ran towards the rest of the village. Only to find that none of them had survived. So he kept running, into the woods, which he knew were dangerous, and didn’t stop.

It had been eighteen years since then, and he hadn’t gone back. Virgil had learned how to chop down trees with his bare hands, how to craft tools to make things easier. Learning how to mine, how to dive into the depths of the caves and underground areas. Fighting mobs the first few days with a wooden sword, and quickly getting a bow after killing a few spiders and collecting their string. He honed his skills in the forests, killing the animals he needed, for food, clothing, and beds. Oh so many beds.

Eventually he learned to do basic farms, bringing grass down into his mines, putting the animals underground as well. Growing crops and trees in a big, lit up area of the mine, and barely ever going out of the caves. It was safer there, he had escapes, he knew the routes well. He wouldn’t easily die there. So he stayed in the mines.

#death #main character death #temporary main character death #gore #child death #animal death #briefly mentioned animal death #sanders sides #virgil #virgil sanders #ts virgil #tss virgil #sander sides virgil #sasi #sasi virgil #sanders sides minecraft au #glacier's fanfics

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Don’t Forget to Write

AO3 -> next

Fandoms: DC (Batman comics

Summary: From Dick’s POV. Damian happened to win a contest to illustrate a new book by an up and coming author. Being the good brother he is, Dick decided to check the book.He quickly realized he was reading a very first hand account of one of Jason's old cases, and deciding to act like a normal person would, he decided to read some of the author's other works. What he found shook the very foundation of what he thought was true?  

Warnings: rated T - mostly for swearing and questionable mental health. Amnesia

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr

Dick took a few quick breaths and double checked he was still holding the book he had swiped from Damian before he knocked on the door frame of Bruce’s office. It wasn’t like Bruce wouldn’t appreciate the distraction from whatever paperwork built up, but the situation he wanted to bring up sounded insane, even to him.

“Hey, Chum, what’s wrong?” Bruce gave him a tired smile. From what Dick had heard from Tim and Damian, he’d been working on dismantling a massive arms smuggling ring recently. Word on the street suggested it was connected to Black Mask, but there was currently no concrete evidence to support it.

“You know how Damian recently won that contest?” he asked, deciding that was the easiest way to start.

Bruce nodded and his tired smile was briefly replaced with something warmer. While he had a hard time expressing his feelings, the man was genuinely happy for their accomplishments. The congratulations letter that Damian received which let him know he won an art contest had been placed on the fridge so anyone who would walk in could see it.

“Since the prize is the chance to illustrate an upcoming book, Damian decided to read some of the author’s other works to get an idea of the style.” Dick paused for a moment. “He said something that struck me as weird. I guess this author tends to write detective stories, but after criticizing how the cases were solved, he mentioned they sounded similar to a lot of our cases. I got curious and decided to read a few too…” He shifted his weight as Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “It’s unsettling.”

“How so?”

Dick fidgeted a moment. “This is going to sound crazy, but I wouldn’t bring this up to you if it wasn’t this weird. Bruce, these stories are nearly identical to the cases we worked on with… with Jason.”

When Bruce’s expression hardened, Dick made sure not to say anything. His brother’s name was still something everyone tried not to bring up in front of him unless absolutely necessary. It has been six years since Jason’s death at the hands of the Joker, and Bruce had never forgiven himself for it. While he had long since moved past the self-destructive phase of his grief, largely in part to Tim taking the lead on keeping him in check, it still lingered below the surface.

“Are you certain?” The intensity of the man’s voice almost made Dick shiver.

“Bruce,” he kept his voice even as he handed him the book, “I’m certain enough to bring it up to you. Take a look and let me know what you think. Maybe I am just misremembering, but there are details about characters who seemed to be thinly veiled versions of us and our rogues that only we know. The one in your hand talks about what happened when he ran The Gauntlet. It’s too spot on.”

“I will take a look.”

Dick nodded. “Let me know what you decide. Even if you don’t decide to act, I’m going to look into it. I just have a gut feeling.”

…

“I know that name,” Stephanie mentioned later that evening as Bruce began explaining why they were looking into the author, who went by the pen name ‘John Doe’. “He’s really popular with a lot of high school students.”

“Bernard really likes his books,” Tim added. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks which he stubbornly ignored. “One of the things a lot of people talk about is how it feels like they’re reading a more personal account of what it’s like to be Robin. It’s why it’s so popular. He started writing in online forums before being picked up by Gotham Publishing.”

“That’s what brought him to our attention,” Dick explained. “His books match a little too closely with some of ours, especially from…” He glanced over at Bruce.

“From when Jason was Robin,” he finished as he pressed a button on the Batcomputer. Behind him, a comparison between one of John Doe’s books and one of their cases. Several highlighted areas could be seen.

Steph, Tim, and Cass shared looks. Even Damian seemed moderately surprised. Bruce almost never brought up Jason, unless it was to remind them what they were risking if they went out unprepared. The fact that he was willing to say his name made it much more serious, especially because all of them could hear the note of pain obvious in his voice.

“I can verify our systems weren’t hacked,” Barbara’s voice drifted over from her comm line. She’d been helping Dick after he messaged her with his original suspicions. “Since that’s not the problem, I’ve been helping Dick research him. John Doe, also known as Jay Peters, doesn’t legally exist.”

“So, he forged a new identity? Or is he an illegal immigrant or trafficking victim?” Steph questioned.

“No, amnesia.” Babs paused as she brought up a contract with a couple signatures on it. “Here’s our writer’s contract with Gotham Publishing. You can see the name of Maria Valencia, one of the leading victim’s rights advocates in the city, vouching for him. So, I checked her records and found a very interesting medical file.”

“John Doe forty-seven was brought to Gotham General approximately five and a half years ago after being found dazed and severely injured in the middle of the night,” Dick spoke up as the medical file and related police report appeared on the computer screen. “Even after several surgeries, he spent a year in a coma before waking up without an idea of who he is or what happened to him. Babs, can you bring up the images?”

Dick shifted uncomfortably as he waited for Bruce’s response. At first, he thought they were dealing with a new Rogue, someone too skilled at hacking for their own good, or even a meta with an ability that allowed them to tap into thoughts or computer records. But after seeing the images, Dick was presented with a possibility he wasn’t emotionally prepared to handle. He should have waited until he finished his own investigation before he brought it up to Bruce.

“These images… are from the police reports?” Bruce questioned, emotion breaking through his normal façade. He noticed the similarities that had unsettled Dick when he first reviewed them.

“Yes,” Babs confirmed. “The GCPD were unable to find any missing persons cases that matched his description. Looks like they tried to get fingerprints, but his hands were too mangled at the time for anything useable.”

“I used the Batcomputer to see if we could get a hit. Bruce,” Dick made sure to look him in the eyes as the results were shown on the screen, “they’re a partial match to Jason. And it’s not just the fingerprints. With the exception of the injuries on his fingers, all of his other ones match his autopsy report. I know it sounds crazy, especially because these photos were taken six months after his death.”

“His hands…” Tim murmured as he reviewed the images. “It looks like he had been digging.”

“That appears to be the case.” A slight frown appeared on Bruce’s face. Dick had known him long enough to know he was trying to consider other possibilities. There had been too many tragedies in their lives for him to immediately jump to the idea the person in those images was his son miraculously returned from the dead. “Barbara, do you have any recent images of him?”

“Just one. Give me a sec.”

An image of a young man standing near Valencia, caught off guard by something, possibly the camera, appeared on the screen. Even though he appeared older, the facial structure was the same as Jason’s, even down to the slightly crooked position of his nose, something that occurred after a nasty fight with one of Two-Face’s goons. And then there were the scars. There was a particularly noticeable one over his left eye that occurred sometime before Jason came to the Manor.

Dick glanced at Bruce to see if he had the same sort of recognition he had when he first saw it, but he instantly regretted it. There was pain and an aching longing he’d rarely seen in Bruce’s expression. While he wouldn’t be convinced until he ran his own tests, he couldn’t deny the similarities.

“I’m going to double check the prints,” Bruce’s voice was thick with emotion, “and run a facial recognition.”

“Father, are you really entertaining the idea that this person…” Damian didn’t have a chance to finish his thought when Cass placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He fought to bring you back,” she reminded him as Bruce began a fingerprint and facial analysis of the author against Jason. “Let him hope he can bring another son home.” Damian didn’t have a response to that.

A few moments later, the computer showed a ninety three percent match against Jason regarding appearance. The difference in age and some newer scars, including the one that was just visible under his hairline, could be enough for why it wasn’t a complete match. The print match finished a few moments later and confirmed the partial match Dick had gotten.

“Is there a chance this Jason look alike is a clone?” When Steph caught Bruce’s glare, she held her hands up. “What? It’s a valid question.”

“It’s a possibility,” Dick stated slowly. With how delicate the situation was, he needed to make sure he properly explained his thoughts. None of them needed Bruce spiraling again. “But it doesn’t feel right. If he is, whoever made him went through a lot of work to match the injuries on his body. They wouldn’t just let him go after all of that. But instead of some diabolical plot, he’s just writing mystery novels and keeping to himself.”

“There’s something else weird,” Tim spoke up. “Look at the date he was admitted to the hospital. It matches up with when the Superboy Prime incident occurred. He was also found along the road that leads from the cemetery.”

Dick tried to forget about that. Superboy Prime, a teenaged version of Superman from another universe who got trapped in theirs. His ill-fated attempts to return home combined with his insane plans to attempt to rewrite their reality to make it closer to the one he knew had far reaching effects that they were still discovering several years later.

Bruce turned and pin one of the most intense stares Dick had ever seen on the teen. “What are you suggesting?”

“B, no one has touched his… Jason’s grave, right?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Oh, Tim was treading a minefield. “That is correct.”

“Hypothetically, if someone broke out of it, would it have set off any alarms?”

“No, but the likelihood…”

“B, that was a reality shattering event. With everything else we’ve seen over the years, is It really so strange that he came back?” Tim pointed to the computer screen where the injuries on the author’s fingers were still visible. “Whoever this is, he dug himself out of something. Even if that’s not what happened, we should at least rule it out.”

As a Bruce took a moment to process the idea, Dick decided to speak up. “Maybe I’m misremembering, but I seem to recall a report talking about how a couple members of the Doom Patrol came back to life after everything was said and done. And I’m pretty sure there were rumors of that happening to civilians too.”

“There were,” Tim stated as he stepped forward so he could bring up some files on the Batcomputer. “Five confirmed cases in Gotham and three in Bludhaven.”

Dick felt his eyebrows raise. He hadn’t known that, and neither did the others, judging by their equally surprised expressions.

“B, I’d say that’s enough to warrant considering it. Tim and I can check the grave.” Dick sighed. “We’ll also have to rule out he’s an alternative version of Jason too. But, if I’m honest, I hope this is real.”

“I know you’re gonna want a DNA sample from him,” Steph mentioned as she glanced at the photo again. “Babs, you didn’t happen to figure out where this guy lives, did you?”

“Not yet,” she admitted.

“I did.” Everyone turned to look at Tim. “I got curious why an author would go by the name ‘John Doe’ and investigated his forum posts a while back. He hasn’t provided a lot about himself other than some of the books he likes to read. Thought it was weird, so I tried hacking his account. Most of the original posts were made from the library at the corner of Park Row, and the later ones are all from a computer owned by the publishing company. So, I hacked the publishing company instead, and it appears they’re paying for him to stay in a small apartment.”

Sighing, Dick glanced at his younger brother. “Let me guess. You already staked out the property.”

“Yeah. There’s not much in it, just basic furniture and some books. He keeps it tidy. Both times I’ve stopped by during a patrol, he’s been asleep.”

“That saves me some work, but I might have something better. What if I told you the perfect time to break into that apartment to get some evidence would be between 8am and 9am tomorrow?” Amusement crept into Babs’ voice. “Turns out he’s doing an interview with Vicki Vale. And if anyone would like to go view it in person, I have no doubt the producers would gladly welcome and save some seats for one Bruce Wayne and at least one of his children.”

…

The next morning, Dick found himself waiting with Tim, Cass, and Damian in front of the TV station while Bruce pulled some strings. While they were there, Stephanie worked on getting into the author’s apartment to attempt to get some DNA evidence for Bruce. She kept sending occasional updates. With how controlling Bruce could be when it came to things involving their family, Dick was surprised he was willing to let her do it.

If Dick had to guess, the reason dealt with what they discovered. Jason’s grave was indeed empty. The lid had been broken from the inside, giving credence to Tim’s theory. Afterwards, they headed to the apartment where the author lived. The man had been sleeping in his bed when they took their places on the building across the street, but he must have felt their eyes on him seeing as he woke up just long enough to get up and close the curtains. If Dick wasn’t mistaken, Jason had briefly glanced at them.

Even though they had to continue their patrols, Bruce kept going back to the vantage point. Seeing as he was more non-verbal than usual when he returned to the Cave, Dick doubted he got another glance at the author.

After checking another update from Stephanie, Dick mulled over the fact he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about possibly seeing Jason again after so many years. The wary optimism from the previous night had changed into a nervous discomfort.

Jason, and Dick was pretty sure it was their Jason, had been alone for over five years. He didn’t know who he was or what happened to him. He likely didn’t even remember them. It hurt in a way Dick wasn’t familiar with. He was used to the sharp pain of loss that slowly dulled over the years, but this was a gnawing pain that seemed similar to guilt or longing. Maybe it was a combination of both. Dick didn’t want to have to treat his brother like a stranger after all this time.

There was also the possibility that by simply approaching him, they risked pulling him back into the vigilante world. He’d been out of the game for years. None of them knew how much of his training he may or may not remember. Would he want to come back to it? If he was honest, he didn’t want Jason to deal with the dangers and trauma of the job ever again, even if he wanted to once again fly across the rooftops of Gotham with his brother.

“Are you ready?” Bruce was back. He looked worn out in a way Dick had rarely seen. The combination of grief and guilt must have been taking a toll on him. The man was also trying to fight against hope because if this was just a doppelgänger or clone, it might break him all over again.

About ten minutes later, they were shown to their seats in the studio. Several members of the audience noticed their presence and began whispering. Didn’t they have anything better to do than gossip about them? Probably not. Keeping up with their family was a pastime of the city after all.

As the show started, Dick had to do has best to keep from fidgeting. He wasn’t interested in the stories or gossip of the first half of the show. Sure, sometimes that information was useful to their main job, but everything presented that particular day was old news to him.

Then the second half of the show started, and Dick’s breath hitched as he saw his brother walk on to the set. Although he’d seen a slightly out of focus image of his brother the previous night, this was different. Jason was tall and broad and looked as if he’d never been dead. But he didn’t look completely healthy. There was an unnatural leanness about him, much like he was when he was first brought to the Manor. Had he been eating properly? Or was it an unfortunate result of the recovery process? His coma had been long enough to cause muscle atrophy.

Then there were the scars. In the fluorescent studio lights, they could easily see the slight discoloration of the scars that littered his face and bare forearms. It made him look dangerous, and Dick could almost feel the rest of the audience recoil. In Gotham, scars like that tended to suggest involvement with criminals.

Interestingly, when Vicki caught sight of Jason for the first time, her eyes briefly widened in recognition. She’d interviewed their family enough over the years to be familiar with their appearances, and Dick could still remember the debate over whether or not she ever figured out their identities.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doe, or do you prefer Mr. Peters?” she asked in a friendly but professional voice as Jason sat across from her after a handshake.

He chuckled. It was a hoarse but pleasant sound. “Jay’s fine, but I should probably explain my pen name. I’m considered a ‘John Doe’, an unidentified person. I have no idea who I was before waking up in that hospital, and no one else seems to either. When I started using the writing forums, I used ‘John Doe’ as a joke, and it’s kind of stuck.” His posture was open and appeared relaxed, but his eyes hardened slightly. So he wasn’t as unbothered by the situation as he appeared.

“I had been wondering about that.” Vicki was all smiles. “Is that why you’ve remained out of the spotlight?”

“You could say that.” He flashed her a crooked smile Dick recognized as the same one Jason used to try to charm people.

“What changed? I’m surprised you were willing to come on the show.”

He seemed to look past her for a moment. “Part of it was the contest. I’ll be working with the winner, and since it looks like I got into a fight with a blender and lost,” he traced some of the scars on his left arm, “the publishing team thought it was a good idea to prove I’m not secretly a Family enforcer or associated with any of the Rogues. But if you want me to be honest, I’m just tired of not having a provable identity. I want to be able to buy my own damn cigarettes.”

That statement caught Vicki and most of the audience off guard, but Dick had to stifle a laugh. Of all the things he could have said, he brought up his addiction to nicotine. He had thought Jason had quit by the time he died, but maybe it was a piece of his old life he somewhat remembered. They had theorized he started regularly smoking to help stave off hunger. Maybe that’s why he picked it up again. But since Jason was smirking, he said it to at least partially throw Vicki off.

“Of all things, cigarettes?”

Jason shrugged as he shifted positions. “Why not? That’s one of those rite of passage things, and I’m getting tired of having to bum them off of everyone. I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions… I think.”

She gave him a polite smile. “Let’s move on to your books. They’ve become extremely popular among the teens and young adults of Gotham. Why do you think that is?”

“Just like any writer, I’d like to think it’s my skills on telling an engaging story. But if I’ve learned anything from Internet forums, the real answer lies in how connected the readers feel to the main characters and how easily they can make fan fiction out of it.”

While Jason’s smile remained pleasant, Vicki’s became forced at the mention of fan fiction. She probably found the very explicit fics between her and other prominent figures of Gotham, including Bruce. Dick was still mad at Stephanie for making everyone aware of the fiction that existed about their hero personas. He could have lived without knowing.

“I think it’s a little more than that,” Vicki compromised as her expression returned to a more natural one. “How about taking us through your writing process. I’m sure the viewers would like to get a glimpse of the process.”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head and bit his lip, something he used to do all the time when he first came to the Manor when he wasn’t sure how to phrase something. It was one of the few hints of insecurity he’d let them see. “There isn’t really a process. A lot of my books started off as me writing random phrases. Like ‘the button to open the door was under the name plate on the desk’. Or ‘the only way to disarm the explosive was hitting the blue marker on the other side of the room’. There are days when I’ll spend hours doing it because I need them out of my head, but…” He lifted his hands and flexed them a few times. His fingers looked stiff. “I can’t physically write for long periods. Too much damage.”

He shifted again. “So, I started putting them in a computer document since it was easier to handle and organize. Some phrases just went better with others. Eventually, I realized I had these summaries of fictional events written like a police report. But it didn’t feel right to leave them like that, so I started adding more details that just seemed right. Then the next thing I knew, I had a bunch of stories. I still write like that.”

Dick found himself shaking his head. “He died, came back, doesn’t remember anything, and still writes reports? I don’t know if I should be in awe or concerned,” he whispered to himself which made Cass and Tim chuckle.

“Are you sure they’re fictional?” Vicki questioned. “I’m sure it’s been pointed out to you that your works almost feel like they’re written from the point of view of one of Gotham’s vigilantes. Perhaps someone in your family worked for the police, a stenographer, or even one of the city’s newspapers.”

He snorted. “The GCPD couldn’t identify me, so I doubt I had family there. Unless whoever it was happened to be that corrupt, and when it comes to the GCPD, that’s a possibility.” When Vicki’s eyebrows rose in surprise, Jason gave her a wry smile. “Just because I don’t remember my past doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I know the Commissioner has done a lot to help, but things still aren’t great. As for the others, that’s a possibility, but they don’t feel right.”

“And today on what you don’t say on live TV in Gotham,” Tim murmured, stunned. Almost everyone in Gotham knew there was corruption in most levels of office, including the police, but there was a real danger in acknowledging it publicly. Jason hadn’t said anything that pointed fingers at anyone, yet, but he might not realize some of the knowledge he had wasn’t public knowledge.

Vicki also knew it was a dangerous topic and quickly shifted the conversation. “Let’s talk about the contest itself. There have been a lot of criticism about how the winner of the contest is Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s youngest son.”

Dick could feel how Damian tensed so he put a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the time,” he whispered to him. “Wait until after the show.”

“I haven’t heard anything like that. How about you enlighten me.” Jason’s voice sounded light, but there was an edge to it. He also shifted forward so his forearms were resting on his thighs. He absolutely knew what these criticisms were, and he wasn’t happy about it.

The reporter caught it too. “People believe he should have been disqualified because of his status in Gotham,” she explained with an apologetic smile, suggesting she didn’t agree.

“And if I happened to choose someone from the Bowery or Crime Alley, there would be complaints about the person being a charity case.” All previous humor had vanished from Jason’s expression and voice. “I specifically requested two things from Gotham Publishing when they brought up the contest: that all Gotham middle and high schools would be allowed to participate and that I wouldn’t be allowed to see any names. Money and home life had nothing to do with my choice. Everything was based on talent alone.”

He shifted so he was sitting up straight which allowed the fluorescent lights to highlight the scars on his face. “The winner has a rich dad, so what? Just like anyone else, he should be recognized for his own talent instead of being forced to walk in his parents’ shadow all the time. The only way I’d find issue with my choice is if we found out the kid’s dad was the one who actually drew it.”

During Jason’s explanation, Dick kept an eye on Damian. His youngest brother’s eyes had widened slightly in surprise followed by a slight smile. While he was sure Damian would never outright admit it, he was pleased by Jason’s response.

Though Damian was surprised by the defense, Dick wasn’t. Whether it was when he was acting as Robin or just being himself, Jason dealt with a lot of people judging him and their family. Although he wasn’t supposed to admit it, one of his favorite memories of Jason was finding out he got into a fight on his behalf. It wasn’t often his brother got into trouble at school, but he was being teased by boys who didn’t appreciate his former status as a street kid. It hadn’t been until they insulted Dick that he leapt to action. Alfred had personally called him to relay the story. Feeling oddly touched, Dick then liberated his brother from his room and treated him to ice cream. Even though he knew otherwise, he liked to believe Bruce never found out.

“Out of curiosity, do you think the Bruce Wayne would have done that? What?” Vicki genuinely looked puzzled when Jason snorted.

“I’m absolutely positive Bruce Wayne didn’t sketch a scene from my book. It’s not his style.” Confusion briefly crossed his face as he finished his statement. He clearly wasn’t sure why he knew that.

Vicki noticed it too. “You sound pretty certain of that. Have you met him before?”

“Since I woke up after whatever happened, no. Before that… I’m not sure.” He leaned back and briefly closed his eyes. “There are places and names that are familiar to me, but I haven’t been able to figure out why.” A sigh escaped him as he shifted again. “No one knows if I’ll ever get my memories back, not all amnesiacs do, and looking at the remnants of what happened to me, I’m not sure I want to. But at the same time, if someone’s missing me, they at least should know I’m here even if I don’t know who they are.” A sardonic smile crossed his face. “But seeing as I didn’t match any missing persons cases, I was probably never missed.”

His brother’s words felt like a slap in the face. Jason thought he’d never been missed, but that was so far from the truth. His death nearly destroyed their family. Bruce spiraled into a self-destructive depression, and Dick… The guilt had eaten at him to the point it manifested as nightmares and hallucinations. While they did lessen over the years, they never entirely vanished.

“On a lighter note, do you think you could give us a quick preview of your next book?”

Jason gave a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that? But I will give you this hint: sometimes a mask is more than a mask to those who wear it.”

“That’s not ominous at all. But that’s it for time! Thank you so much for coming on the show.”

“It was my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

depending on which version you’re reading, either Dick had an extremely antagonist relationship with Jason during the latter’s years as Robin, or it was good but distant. I prefer the good but distant..

In a mostly a Nightwing centered comic during the Discowing era, which I think is Nightwing: Year One, we learn that Bruce has a test to see if his Robins are ready for being in the field. It’s called “the Gauntlet”, and it’s a mock situation. Dick happened to be in town when Jason was running his, and of course, it went from a mock situation to a real one.

John Doe 47 – I’m not sure how many people are aware of this, but John and Jane Does sometimes get numbered if there are a lot of unidentified people discovered in a specific geographic range.

Damian did die, and Bruce literally went to Hell and back to bring him home.

In case the events of Infinite Crisis weren’t well known, Superboy Prime didn’t start off as evil. In his world, superheroes were comic book characters, but a chance encounter with the main universe’s Superman caused his own powers to manifest and then he ended up following Superman back to the main universe. He got super homesick and somewhat manipulated, and then went off the deep end. Due to plot, he ended up punching the “Source Wall” a couple times which caused ripples in reality which caused things to change across the universes. You’ll also hear it phrased as “punching the timetime.”

Jason’s resurrection is probably the best-known change that occurred outside of the creation and destruction of some of the alternative universes. But the Doom Patrol was very effected by it too – Elasti-Girl and Negative Man came back to life, and Chief was returned to his original body. A lot of back stories were also re-written. Do we know if civilians were affected? Not really. Am I going say they were? Yes

I am making a nod towards Arkham Knight and how Vicki Vale had her own talk show. This is my AU, and I conduct things as I want. I know she’s mostly a photojournalist in the comics. She can do both.

Nicotine does suppress appetite as well as increasing the rate of metabolism. It’s part of the reason a lot of people who stop smoking tend to gain a little bit of weight in the months that follow.

It’s also well known that muscle often atrophies if you’re in a coma for long periods. Jason was in one for several months after his resurrection per Red Hood: the Lost Days. Realistically, he’d be thin afterwards.

As a fan fic writer, I know that we sometimes do God’s work. I also know we sometimes make crimes against humanity.  You also can’t tell me that Stephanie wouldn’t go searching for hero-related fanfiction to use as a weapon against the family.

#DC comics #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #Jason todd #Red Hood #Writer AU #tw amnesia #temporary amnesia #fanfiction #fanfic #Jason is an amnesiac writer and is just living his life

[annie-mit-ie]

Temporary - Chapter 1 (Agatha/Wanda Story)

Story-Overview // >>> next chapter

Chapter 1 - Prologue

WordCount: 1.3k

A/N: Hey y’all! I am back with another story that is so twisted I had to write several spreadsheets to get the storyline right and reproducible. This following chapter is short, but sweet and as a prologue just right to set the tone for my new baby. Here we go again - let’s see where this goes.

As always, thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoy whatever I am coming up with now!

Song: The idea for this story title came to me when I listened to Halsey’s Bells In Santa Fe and I really do believe you should give it a listen to, because it certainly inspired parts of the overall story-idea. :) Agatha-Tag List: @danvers97 @ara-a-bird @queennoella087 @our-blood-is-our-ink @harknessesbae @dazzlinghahn @emril-osvigne @kusenpai​ Temporary-Tag List: @drukkari-forever​ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter One _______________________________________________________________________ Agatha Harkness didn’t mean to fall for Wanda Maximoff. Long, elegant fingers fly over her computer’s keyboard, as the brunette stares at the screen, trying to put her thoughts into the right words. The carefully curated letters are reflecting in the blue of her eyes and her face is bunched up, leaving a trail of deep lines in her forehead. 10.38am. Agatha sighs and rolls her shoulders back a couple of times before stretching her fingers and adjusting her posture. It has taken her way too long to find the right time and place to meet the woman occupying her every thought to screw this up now. Closing her eyes for a short moment, she takes another deep breath. To her right, there lies a well-read book with a dark, broken in cover. Glistening red letters decorate the front, the name „Wanda Maximoff“, practically yelling at her in bold lettering - next to it, the book’s title jumps right at her as she carelessly traces the word with her fingernail. „Scarlett“. A fond smile finds its way onto the brunette’s lips while her soft fingertips come to a stop at the end of the second ’t’. She taps it a couple of times thinking back at the book’s content. Right as she found it online a few weeks ago, she devoured it within a couple of hours, drawn in by this story of a devilish witch going after a baby witch to find her destiny and fulfill her life wishes. The magic described within feels almost too huge and majestic to be real. Too murderous to come from such a lovely author’s mind. Shaking her head, Agatha lets go of the cover and looks back at the screen. Struggling to find her words, the brunette huffs and puts the author’s name into google once again, simply staring at her perfect face. The cursor hasn’t moved in a long while and time is slowly but surely running out. Writing the letter again and again, Agatha ends up erasing it all and starts from the beginning - writing a whole paragraph only to delete it yet again. This letter needs to be perfect. It has taken her ages to find a chance to meet the author, her favorite author and tell her how much she adores her. Wanda Maximoff has been a firm part of Agatha’s mind for quite some time now and she has watched every single interview she could possibly find, desperate to take in every single facet about the red-heads mysterious personality. An annoyed look on her face, she sighs once more and finally slams the computer shut before looking at the wall opposite of her where a huge mirror is placed to make her office appear more spacious. She stares at herself. “What?“, a huff escapes her lips as she raises an eyebrow, allowing the blue of her eyes to shine even brighter in the sunlight coming in through the wide-opened window. Agatha shakes her head and gets up from her desk, picking up a scruffy bunny as she leaves the room. Stroking his little head, the brunette makes her way into the kitchen, desperate for a cup of tea to calm her nerves and finish this god-forsaken letter. --- Unaware of the restlessness she causes in the other woman, Wanda also stares at her desk, a script covered in notes, scribbles and thin colorful markers right in front of her. Next to her pen, that she carelessly put down after taking her last note, a phone has been ringing non-stop for the past few minutes. The author stares at the screen with blank eyes before she closes them and leans back in her chair. A nagging feelings runs up her spine, urging her to take a look at her phone again. Rolling her eyes, she sighs and finally takes the call. “What?“, thin fingers run through ruffled red hair that desperately needs to be washed. The last couple of days have been stressful and Wanda does not know where to find all the time she needs to write a new book, organize a book-tour and answer fan letters she gets from her readers. Some ask her about her personal life and work, some talk about her books and characters, and some are full of stories and emotions, getting Wanda teary eyed whenever she reads. “Wanda, are you still there?“, a concerned voice halls through the speaker. “What? Uh, yeah!“ Wanda rapidly shakes her head to get her concentration back on what’s most important right now. “You… You want to stock up on seats for the book tour? Are you sure? Are we selling enough tickets?“ She quints and bites her lips, waiting for a response. Her manager doesn’t take long to respond and his answer is short: Yes. Yes and Wanda desperately needs to stop worrying and asking this many questions. Her work is good, but not good enough to start acting like a Diva now. The redhead suppresses a groan, a flaming red sensation piling up in her whole body. This is giving her a headache. All she wanted was to share her stories, to give her running thoughts a space to exist to keep them from occupying her dreams and every part of her brain, even when she is awake. The young author doesn’t pay much attention to whatever her management is telling her. It has to be something about the upcoming tour date. Probably time management. They will send her an e-mail anyway, so why bother clouding her brain with this kind of information now? Wanda scuffs, losing control over herself. “Come again?“ The manager must have heard her and she rapidly moves her hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just… I have to go now. Bye!“ Wanda speaks faster than ever before, nearly yells the word and throws the phone away as soon as her finger hits the red button, “Fucking men.“ She shakes her head again and gets up, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. As the key clicks in the lock, her shoulders fall. Rolling them back, she forces a cracking sound in her spine before straightening out her arms by pointing to the floor with her hands on each side of her body. If she closed her eyes, she might as well start elevating just like Scarlett does in her books. A wicked grin appears on her face before she releases a long breath, ready to take the night off. --- It’s the middle of the night as Agatha Harkness makes her way back into her office. She nearly trips over yet another copy of a Maximoff novel that must have fallen from the couch as she hurries through the dark. Cursing herself, gives the book an annoyed look before picking it up and taking it with her through the heavy wooden door. A dream kept her up and forced her into an upright position, urging to finish her letter. The brunettes eyes scan the dark as she once again tries to come up with the right words to convince the red-head to meet her in person. Stroking the scarlet letters as she thinks, she bites her lip until it bleeds. The moon is mirrored in her crystal blue eyes and a cheeky smile appears on her face when her fingers finally grasp the pen and start scribbling a single line in cursive lettering.

#agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #agatha fanfiction #wanda fanfiction #Kathryn hahn #Elizabeth olsen #wandavision #wandavision AU #Not so AU AU #Temporary AU fanfic #wagatha #Wanda & Agatha #lesbian Agatha

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: It's Not the Fall (It's the Landing)

To save each other from Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley become human. Things, predictably, do not go as planned. Crowley thought about what he’d come there to do. He thought about what it meant, in the context of God’s warning. Really thought. There wouldn’t be hopping from restaurant to restaurant with his best friend for the next six thousand years (give or take). There wouldn’t be any more miracles, or tempting. There wouldn’t be any skirting Hell’s wrath for eternity. And when it was over, the deepest, darkest, horriblest pits would be reserved for him. Crowley said, “Will you make me human, too?”

Length: 66,731 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, One Sitting, Angst, Canon AU

Triggers: Temporary Character Death, Alcoholism

Read it here, fic by Ginger_Cat

*Minor Spoilers* Alright buckle up, this one is insane! This has to be the craziest, most unique plot I've read for Good Omens. Every moment just punches you into a different direction. I found myself just going, "what the fuck? what the fuck?? WHAT THE FUCK??" I'm not even going to try to summarize the plot, there's too much to say and I think you should go in as blind as possible. Just trust it, let it whisk you away on this journey.

This isn't a dark fic necessarily, it ends in a very good place, but there are moments that were pretty brutal. It pushes Aziraphale in particular to places we don't usually see him. He is the reckless impulsive one here. At first his actions seem super out of character for him, but trust the process. There is more under the surface and an explanation for his behavior. By the end I was so excited about this characterization for him. Crowley, poor dear, goes through the ringer here. He slips up and confesses his love and suddenly his entire life is flipped upside down. Kind of literally? At any point he could have just said, fuck you guys I'm done, but he doesn't. His love for Aziraphale and humanity keeps him in the fight, even though I wouldn't blame him for turning to resentment.

Excellent dialogue, it really brings a lightness and humor to scenes that keeps everything balanced. The side characters are also top notch. Even Gabriel get's his moment of redemption. Pacing is lightning fast. You have to pay attention and keep up or you will get left behind. I think this could have used a little more breathing room in some areas, but it's a want more than a need. It's not a negative that it moves fast is what I'm saying. If I could have added time anywhere it would be to Chapters 15 and 16 because I am so intrigued by the concepts there. I could read an entire story of Aziraphale in those conditions (I really don't want to spoil).

I think based on how fast paced this gets, it should be read at home. There are a couple smut scenes, but it's really an at home read for the plot. And I would make the time to read it in one go. There's just a lot of threads that I think would make it difficult to leave and come back to. Plus you aren't going to want to stop! I didn't! I only planned to start it, but suddenly it's 3 AM and I've finished it. What a wild ride! A joy to read for that alone, but it's an excellent work of redemption and the lengths they will go to for love.

Read it here, fic by Ginger_Cat

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #It's Not the Fall (It's the Landing) #Ginger_Cat #canon au #reverse au #temporary character death #angst #at home #one sitting #four flames #turning human #this is a hard one to characterize #just fuckin read it

[slushyextrachaos]

(Temporary/implied character death and maybe horror-like elements idk, read at own risk)

It looks human, it moves human… it even sounded human when he heard it speak.

But whatever Graves saw following Lieutenant Ghost, it wasn't human. All of his instincts screamed at him to get away as one too green eye bore into him, the other eye pitch black (but… not an empty socket the eye itself was a void), staring into his soul. It looked like a walking corpse that wasn't decomposing, does "healthy dead body" even make sense?… Then it SMILED at him, with too white teeth and fangs.

Watching him. That's all it did at first.

Graves was being haunted by SOMETHING. It all started after he had a very long and vivid dream of being blown up in a tank. Though that thing wasn't the only creature he saw, just the most human and seemed to be the only one actively aware of him at all times.

Whenever people died there were these vaguely humanoid shaped beings in dark clothes with hoods and red eyes. Corpse like as well but these things actually looked dead and even more inhuman than the other thing. A few would occasionally spare him a glance, he did his best to pretend he didn't see them. Maybe he finally lost it.

…

He realizes, after everything plays out all over again, that maybe it wasn't a dream but a premonition. He could see those red eyed creatures staring at him, waiting. Looking like they were pulling straws and taking bets, almost human-like and yet… nothing like humans at all. Eagerly awaiting to drag him away to who knows where… he doesn't want to know what those things would do to him.

Then suddenly, despite the searing heat surrounding him, there's an icy hand on his neck.

.

Graves snaps back in time for the birthday song they've been singing to one of his Shadows, Jason, to come to an end. He gives Jason his gift and soon has to excuse himself. Everything seems far away, he feels like he's floating.

That… that had to be a dream right? A cold chill runs down his spine.

#time loop #cod graves #phillip graves #au idea #idk #fanfic idea #cod fanfic #au prompt #call of duty modern warfare #just for fun #horror elements #temporary character death #read at own risk #spooky #supernatural elements #Death as a character #cod oc #One day I'll put more cod stuff on the actual main blog but not today #Because I realized my Death OC has some visual similarities to Danny Phantom and they're not the same but...

[uptoolateart]

Breaking Free #3

Mature - Graphic depictions of violence

*PLEASE READ TAGS – key points from the previous fics in the series are summed up in the Chapter 1 end notes*

Read at Ao3

#married adrinette #ml au #ml fic #ml fanfic #time travel #hawk moth 2.0 #miraculous used for evil #rat apocalypse #temporary character death #stephen king style violence #but with warnings so you can skip through it #no real smut #magical powers #psychic abilities #grave robbing #theft #kidnapping #teleportation #sentimonsters #clones #hell beasts #total Armageddon #nathalie sancoeur redemption #chloe bourgeois redemption #parenting #heavy angst #hurt and comfort #infertility #My beta told me to abbreviate the fic name to PTSD #But there IS a happy ending to this series. I PROMISE.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

so where’s the sacrilegious fanfic where gaea won the second giant war and the demigods proceeded to over throw her and start a new age as they reign over the world as the gods once did.

cause I’ve been trying to find one and I haven’t yet.

#what would that age even be called #like golden age is over as is the silver bronze heroic and iron #galea’s temporary reign would either be the age of blood or the age or earth but the age of blood just sounds cooler #idk what the demigod age would be tho #percy jackson #gaea #percy jackson and the olympians #gaia #heroes of olympus #greek gods #demigods #rick riordan #percy jackson au #fanfic prompt #fanfiction prompt

[shylittlefrogg]

So taking out Au's idea book , Au where the Calamity box changes its dimension to 5d, which is where supernatural beings live.

Now they must survive on it.

Anne ends up with the Dryads

Sasha with Grave Guards/Undead

And Marcy with the fairies (the kind that will trade kids and make deals for your name)

Surprisingly, I have things on this Au so if you have any questions I can answer them.

Marcy's four fingers are on purpose 👀

#Fanfic ideas that one day I will write #Sub Magic! Au #temporary name #amphibia #alternate universe #anne bounchoy #sasha waybright #marcy wu

[writezeel]

A Kindling of Sorts - SBI OneShot

A Kindling of Sorts (12035 words) - A OneShot I wrote for the @dsmp-bigbang 2021 Accompanied by this beautiful art from @theslyvoid9 please check him out!! 

Tags:  Temporary Character Death, Amnesia, Grief/Mourning, Alternative Universe - Tommy Died, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Alternate Universe - Wings

Summary: 

"There was a ghost on the porch. Because that person in front of him, that child, the lost piece of his heavy, guilty heart, his little brother, was dead."

After a year of grief and hurt spent tucked away in the safety of their childhood home, the rug get's pulled out from underneath them. Because Tommy is back, whole, healthy and alive. Wilbur is overjoyed, Phil is tired and Techno for once does not want to fight. A night spent in the snowbound family home brings up all the things that they had done their best to avoid.

Excerpt: 

There was a ghost on the porch. Thanks to him, that person in front of him, that child, the lost piece of his guilty heart, his little brother, was dead .

~*~

The knock came when he was listlessly looking through the bookshelf near the ever-burning fireplace. The dark furniture, much older than he was himself, was filled with books and curiosities from far away servers, places his family could only try to describe.

While they had persevered, prospered, lived , he had done the opposite. The suspended purple crystal and the always flourishing chrysanthemum shoving this fact into his face every time he allowed himself to look at them.

He almost welcomed the sound, something to occupy his mind and for a moment he expected a curse or at least a sigh to follow it. He had figured it must have come from his father knocking something over in the kitchen. Teasing his dad about it would give him something to do other than sitting around and watching the flames.

He had always hated dormancy, even though the only thing he seemed to be doing the last year was being idle. Stagnant.

But no further sound came from the kitchen, it left only one other source.

Slowly he limped his way over to the thick, wooden doors, his stride - step, drag, repeat - essentially silent on the rugs he had played on as a child. In the right light, he could almost see his younger self chasing his little brother around and stumbling over the raised edges. His brown wings, as much a steady companion as his twin, showed his uneasiness, hiding behind his back. Dread was rising in his stomach, making him nauseous. Talking to others was getting harder and harder with every interaction.

He sighed quietly, his chest rattling with a deep breath. He had been good at talking once.

~*~

“Power isn't gained from diplomacy and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky,” His voice was sure, smooth, confidence oozing from his words, wings spread wide, “It's gained from swords, Quackity; it's gained from blades, it's gained from steel, iron.”

~*~

Stilling in front of the door he thought about who could be outside, there weren’t many faces that still showed themselves in these parts. As a child he had hated how far away the house was from any other kind of civilization, now he enjoyed the quiet, as unnatural as it still seemed.

His old friend, family at this point, would look at him with pity in her eyes, trying to empathize with his regrets. Her own woes were being pushed away, always prioritizing others over herself. The little ram, looking more and more like his old friend - enemy - would be far worse. The grief and resentment making them both cruel and callous. Their talks, few and far between as they were nowadays, ending in an even deeper chasm between them. To think they were as close as family once. The enderman hybrid, an outsider, had no real connection to his past. He didn’t see what sins he committed. Maybe the child’s naivete was why his twin had taken a liking to that one. He was sure the bright eyes and big smile reminded his twin of their younger brother. The fox would break him, even more than he already was. Someone who used to look at him like he hung the stars in the sky once, now glaring at him with the same disgust he felt for himself. Anyone else, just a speck of dark grey on his periphery.

Even though he was almost ready to call for his father to let him handle the visitor he started leaning on the cumbersome door handle, a leftover remnant from the time he was still a child.

Heavy doors kept children inside. At least that had been his father’s plan, once upon a time. It had never worked when he was small. It worked now, ever-present fatigue making him feel weak and useless. A burden more than anything, no matter what his family told him.

With a deep sigh, one he wanted to join, the door opened up to the cold air of the plains and trees that surrounded the house. The spruce trees were covered in snow with no color showing through the frost. The porch had been taken over by snow again, it coming up to his knee. The need for an awning was something he would have to bring up with the rest of the house. The cold pressed deep into his lungs. In between the piles of white was a flash of red, an odd sight in this color scheme. For the first time in months, his eyes focused on a set point.

“Tommy ?” The name was like a prayer on his lips.

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