#anyway im gonna think about a modern au where they are in a fucking office just bc i think its funny as hell

[bl00dalchemist]

Ah, love~

#il dottore #scaramouche #dottoscara #genshin impact #genshin impact fanart #fanart #doodles #they are so good for my brain #they live rent free in my head #anyway im gonna think about a modern au where they are in a fucking office just bc i think its funny as hell #if anyone got ideas throw them at me am bored and depressed

[amymel86]

Inspired by this post

A while ago I made @vivilove-jonsa​ a promise - that I wouldn’t post anything new (bar my drabble event entries) until I’d finished Redamancy. I could work on new things - but not post.

So here’s my chance to sort of cheat (Ssshhh! No one tell Vivi!)

This is a kind of modern post-apocalyptic ish au (and is currently untitled) - basically a couple of decades after a global pandemic, the majority of the world’s female population is left infertile and the government are providing incentives and schemes to try and boost the efforts to repopulate.

Guess which girl is left fertile?? (I know, I know, predictable, right? I don’t even care - I’m having fun) 

You’ll see this is very rough - there’s notes in there for myself where I’ve not made up my mind about stuff - even stuff that’s already there may well get changed. 

But I’d like to share some of what I have already if you guys don’t mind (and Vivi doesn’t kill me)...

I’d also like to invite other authors to share some of their WIP!

“They’re offering money now,” Anya’s plummy whisper carried through from the kitchen. Sansa paused. She’d been getting ready for hers and Harry’s night out - one of many, but she loved them. She adored the heady buzz of her dirty margaritas and the belly-warming glow she felt when Harry would keep her close, proud to have her on his arm. Sansa found that she craved distractions and her well-to-do boyfriend certainly was that. “There’s a whole package of incentives, Harry, you really should consider it.”

With fingers rolling the cut jet beads of her long-looped necklace, Sansa hovers between seconds, waiting to hear Harry’s answer. She’d asked him before; about having a baby. The new normal is not having to worry about all that – or worrying far too much.

Just over a decade ago, the highly contagious disease, [[NAME DISEASE]] spread its vicious reach throughout the population of Westeros; a disease that the infected had a coin’s toss chance of surviving, but left a staggering amount of surviving women barren. Left in the virus’s wake, there were also women like Sansa – anomalies. With seemingly no medical explanation, the [[disease name]] allowed them to keep hold of both their lives, and their ability to reproduce.  

Sansa had thought, what with her having the rare ability to give Harry children, he would have been enthused by the idea when she’d broached the subject. Instead, he’d brushed it aside, seemingly uninterested.

And now his mother is getting involved. Anya Waynwood; a greying woman whose age has left her no less formidable both on a personable level and on a business one. Sansa knows this since she works directly under her at Waynwood’s Estates and Lettings.

“Think of it,” Anya whispers, filling the silence, “a baby of your own, with beautiful sandy hair and chubby cheeks. Just like you. You were such a happy babe.”

“Mother,” Harry starts. Sansa can hear him place his beer bottle down on the polished marble kitchen island. She begins to worry her lip as she listens. “Just because Sansa’s a peach, it doesn’t mean we’re going to have a baby.” She winced at that. ‘A peach’ – it’s not quite a derogatory term for a woman like her – a fertile, but it’s not considered polite either. Still, it’s better than when creeps find out what she is and start to tell her she’s ‘ripe for the plucking’... she supposes. She’s a novelty to them – her and women like her. They’re the kind of guys that search that subsection of illegal porn dedicated to the genre of ‘peaches’ for filthy connoisseurs with a breeding kink.

Harry’s not like that. He’s always been careful when they were intimate... well... he’s always finished in a way that would be biologically impossible to result in a pregnancy anyway. And... he cares for her... doesn’t he?

The thing is, Sansa really would like to have a child. The gods allowed her that ability for some reason, surely? Having a child might bring a sorely missed smile to her mother’s face – a smile that hasn’t really appeared since the virus took father and Robb away. They could bundle up their precious babe and take a trip up north to Winterfell and-

“I don’t even like children,” Harry continued, making Sansa frown. “I can’t even remember the last time I saw anyone under the age of... I don’t know... sixteen? I wouldn’t know what to do with a baby.”

“Well, that’s what Sansa’s for.”

Sansa rolled her eyes so hard they hurt. She’s tempted to go out there and show her face so that this conversation can peter off into the silence that that particular comment deserves. She could picture Anya’s expression perfectly during her next words; brows raised in expectancy, a devious twinkle in her eye and her coral pink painted lips twitching upward in a smirk.

“The government are offering a 15k incentive for the first baby, and all medical bills taken care of. There’s even talk of a new housing development especially for breeders. Now doesn’t that sound like it’s worth considering?”

Urgh. ‘Breeders’. Sansa hates that one too. There’s been rumours of these ‘repopulation incentive packages’, but she hadn’t realised they’d be so... generous. If-... if Harry’s convinced then she could send some extra money up to her mother for Bran’s chair – might even be able to get some to Arya wherever she is, off backpacking, living from youth hostel to youth hostel.

“Mum,” Harry lowers his voice, the deep timbre of it only just making it to Sansa’s ears. She moves closer to the bedroom door, tilting her head as if that would help her hear better. “I... I can’t.”

“Nonsense, of course-“

“No, Mum. I can’t. I can’t have children. I’ve been tested.”

Sansa’s heart thumpity-thumped against her ribs. She’s not meant to be hearing this... and yet at the same time, she feels like she should be hearing this.

Anya sounded aghast. “What do you mean? Of course you can have children!”

“You remember Cissy and Saffron?”

Harry’s exes. But he’d said that Sansa was his first girlfriend who was also a fertile so why-

“Your other peaches? Yes.”

Oh.... Oh no.

“Well it wasn’t like I was careful with them. It never happened because it can’t. I can’t... It just... never happened and so I got tested and I’m... I’m okay with never having kids.”

Sansa’s gut started to roll.

Where was that damned dirty margarita?

***

“And what’s your marital status, dear?” the older woman asked over her wire-rimmed glasses.

Sansa swallowed. “Single.” It hadn’t taken long for her to come to the conclusion that Harry was no different than all the others. She, as ‘his peach’ was purely a status symbol to hang on his arm. Oh, she could kick herself now for all the times she enjoyed his attentions and how he loved to show her off. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? Harry didn’t care about her. He didn’t see a future with her. All he cared about was his own significance and status. But, of course, as soon as she’d broken things off with her darling son, Anya had made her working life a living hell. Sansa needed more options but she knows Anya is loathed to give her a good job reference and she’s hardly qualified for anything above partying her life away to distract herself and minimum wage. She can’t afford to stop sending her mum money for her medication, and Bran needed his physiotherapy sessions and a new chair. All the equations point towards sticking it out at Waynwood Estates but -

“A pretty thing like you? That is surprising!” the woman – a Mrs S Mordane as per the name plate on her desk – says with a small smile.

Sansa shrugs, not wanting to get into the nitty-gritty of the failings of her love-life – and especially not with a stranger in a little cubicle at The Vale Council Offices. She clears her throat. “I-I heard there was some sort of matching service?”

The woman’s eyes light up behind her spectacles. “Oh, yes. Is that something you’re interested in?”

Well, she needed to do something.

“I... I don’t know. Can you tell me more?”

A bundle of leaflets were handed over to Sansa before Mrs Mordane tap-tapped on her computer to print out even more information for her. “We have a whole host of potentially lucky fellas for you to choose from. They’ve all been extensively quizzed and along with the answers from your questionnaire –“ she paused, nodding her head towards the handful of papers now in Sansa’s grasp, “ – we’ll be able to narrow down who might be best suited for you.”

Sansa’s eyes fell to the leaflet on top. There was a photograph of a smiling, gummy baby. “A-and then what?”

***

“That fucking dipshit crook! I’m gonna fucking kill him the next time he’s at Hobb’s I’ll-“

Jon opened his trailer door with a creak and a slam to see what all the racket was about. It was Mance, of course. No one else ‘round here for miles anyhow. He squints his one good eye at the sun reflecting off the sandy dirt that led up to Mance’s farmhouse.

“I’ll kill ‘im, Jon! I will!” the man exclaimed when he’d caught sight of him, right before he kicked up some of the dust beneath his tattered leather boots.

Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, Jon smirked as his sight adjusted to the blinding sun. “Who you killin’ this time old man?”

“That damn bastard Slynt, that’s who!”

Jon straightened. Slynt owned a chain of used car lots in the area. His branches in the two nearest towns always sent cars for fixing straight to him and Mance. It was a slow but steady influx of work and meant that Mance could afford to keep his property and his land from falling into the hands of the tax man – which also meant Jon could continue to live there too; in his trailer parked up beside the farmhouse.

They really needed those cars to fix.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. ‘Shit’ is ‘bout right, boy.”

***

It didn’t take too long for Mance to come and find him later that day. Normally, unless they’re working on a vehicle together, Mance leaves him well enough alone until dinner time which suits Jon just fine. But here he is peering into the old barn, finding Jon working on the project he has going for himself. The old man had told him not to purchase it – the broken down compact utility tractor – but they’d been visiting a farm closure auction for possible parts and Jon fancied himself to be able to fix up the piece of machinery and sell it on. Turns out, it needs more parts replacing to get it going than he’d originally anticipated, but Jon was nothing but determined to make this baby purr into life again. Jon straightened, wiping his oily hands in an old rag while his one good eye followed Mance as he approached.

“I been thinkin’.”

Jon snorted quietly.

Mance ignored him. “With what we got in the bank, those council folk will be sniffin’ ‘round here, comin’ to take my land from me in little more than 4 months – 6 tops.”

Fuck. OK, he knew they’d needed Slynt’s cars but he hadn’t known it was this dyer. He felt his tongue roll around his mouth as though he could find a solution between his teeth. “We need more cars to fix.” Mance pierced him with a ‘no shit, dumbass’ kind of look making Jon sigh. “We can go into town, post flyers, fix folk’s cars up ready for their M.O.Ts, fuckin’ clean and polish ‘em too if it comes to that.”

“[[INSERT NAME OF TOWN]] has a population of about 200, 202 if yer countin’ us. And half of ‘em are either poor as dirt or just as handy with a wrench as you an’ me. Ain’t nobody keepin’ us afloat from that town, boy.”

Jon’s gaze drifted around the dusty old barn. “We could go further afield, to [[INSERT TOWN]] or [[INSERT TOWN]], even go as far as [[INSERT TO----]]

“It’s not gonna work, Snow.”

“Well we gotta try somethin’!” Jon hollered, slamming the rusted hood of his tractor down with a loud clang. He paced away, dirty hand running through dirty hair. “What about the land?” he asked, staring at the ancient farming equipment abandoned in the corner of the barn, left unused for a few decades a least. “Your family used to farm the land. We could too.” He turned to look at Mance. Sure, they’d have to clear at least one field of decaying vehicle carcasses and other miscellaneous rusted objects, and the rest is currently being strangled by a carpet of brambles. But they could do it, couldn’t they? The Rayder’s used to be grain farmers before the land was handed down to Mance and he, already a mechanic by trade had had no love nor want to carry on the tradition.

Mance blinked at him, his lips twisting in consideration. “That would take a long time to get going, Snow. Longer than we can afford.”

Jon felt a prickle up his spine. The words ‘well have you got any smart ideas, then wise-ass?!’ right on the tip of his tongue when Mance interrupts.

“I’ve been on the phone with a woman. A woman at the council.”

Jon flung his arms into the air, giving his back to Mance while he shook his head in dismay. Great. Now they know we’re in trouble. They’ll be sniffin’ ‘round here sooner.

“She was talkin’ ‘bout a scheme,” the old man continued

“Financial aid?”

“Not exactly. You sign up for the scheme an’ if yer selected they... well, they go easy on yer for taxes an’ they give yer some money too.”

Jon turned to face him again, a furrow to his brow. “That don’t sound right. Why would they go easy on taxes and give us money? They ain’t gonna do that, old man.”

“They will if there’s gonna be a wee baby on the property.”

What?!

#Jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #wip wednesday

[paybackraid]

Incoming Message

FMA AU Week Day 4 Prompt L: Overused but Well Loved

Words: 1998

This time it’s a modern AU. Based on some lovely art by @ignicule with their permission, ofc. Warnings for strong language from Edward.

It should also be noted that I do not support Roy/Winry in anyway; they are messing with Ed and in this, Roy loves Winry like a daughter.

Please don’t tag as Roywin

“I can’t believe I trusted him with her. I. Cannot. Believe that I trusted him. What was I thinking? I should have called Al home. What was I thinking?”

Riza sighed silently to herself, glancing to her companion who clutched nervously to his phone. She and Ed were away on a mission, too far from Resembool or Central to return quickly should anything arise. She was a little nervous too; Roy had a knack for getting himself into trouble when she wasn’t around, but he was also a grown man who could take care of himself and those around him. Ed had been aware of that when he asked Roy to check on his heavily pregnant wife who was taking up a hotel room in Central. Alphonse was away in Xing with his wife Mei visiting her family, otherwise Winry would have stayed in Resembool with him. Riza wished that Ed would remember why he had trusted Roy to keep her safe and well taken care of in the first place.

Roy absolutely adored Winry, after all, and would do just about anything for her, even more so now that she was with an unborn child. Riza wouldn’t be surprised when she got home if she found out that Winry ended up staying in their guest room, or Roy spent all day in her hotel room.

“He’s going to fuck up. He’s going to fuck up royally, and I’m going to lose my child. And probably her. ...That’s it, I’m call--”

Riza strode over and plucked Ed’s phone right from his hands, where he had been staring at the still phone app for over a quarter of an hour. He protested and flipped onto his back on his bed, just in time to see her pocket it. “Edward. Winry still has two months to go. Winry can take care of herself. Roy is a responsible adult who knows how to take care of a pregnant woman.” His sister had gotten pregnant a little over a year ago, and he had Googled just about everything he had needed to know even though he obviously wasn’t the father, and had stayed with her the last half of her pregnancy. The baby had been born happy and healthy. Not to say that was Roy’s doing at all, but at least his doting hadn’t harmed his new niece in the least. “They’re going to be fine. If you want to ensure that the baby will be fine, then focus on the mission so we can get home as soon as possible. Alright?”

Ed stared at her with wide, stricken eyes like he thought he had been betrayed. “But he’s useless!”

“Only on rainy days, and the forecast called for sun today. At least take a break from your phone. If Roy texts me that anything goes wrong, I’ll tell you immediately. Please take a look at the case files.”

Ed ground his teeth, waited for a second to see if he could wait her out, then deflated. “...Fine. But as soon as they call, you tell me!”

“If they call, I’ll tell you.”

Ed grouched for a moment and stormed over to the table, yanking out the chair and dropping into it like a brooding child. Riza laughed to herself and shook her head; though it had been over five years since Ed had gotten Al’s body back, sometimes she could still see the same sullen child she had come to love. A small part of her hoped that part of him would never grow up. She took a seat on her bed (she and Ed had agreed that sharing a room would be easier and would pose no problem) and tucked into her own case file, hoping for some clues.

After a small amount of time, both phones in her pocket buzzed. Curious, and a little nervous, she pulled out her phone. Roy was a responsible adult, no way he had let something happen to Winry.

She rolled her eyes, a small smile drifting over her face. A group chat, from Winry, sent to her, Roy, and Ed. And the picture, no doubt Ed wouldn’t be terribly pleased with that, the jealous little thing he was.

’Stay safe! We love you! See you when you get home!!’

“Ed.”

Ed shot up like a hunting dog, staring with wide eyes at her, clearly waiting for the moment she called for him. She rolled her eyes again, but pulled out his phone and stretched out the small distance to hand it to him.

“Take a look.”

He took the phone and opened it up without looking at the message. Slowly, his scowl darkened into something unholy, which made her smile. Oh how pleased Roy would be if he knew that he had caused a face like that only by taking a picture with Ed’s wife. After a solid minute of scowling at the picture, Ed started typing back furiously.

The picture that Winry had sent was really just a picture of the two of them smiling, pressed close to one another. The background suggested they were at Gracia’s--the half of the wall painting she could see looked like the one above Gracia’s living room couch. Either Gracia or Elysia had probably taken the picture. Roy was holding Winry to his side, his shoulder behind hers a little, although Winry seemed no less enthusiastic to be with him. Their outer hands were curled together, forming a little heart between them. Winry’s grin was huge, showing off a tongue piercing that she and Roy had nearly had a spat over three years back. Roy’s smile was soft and warm--though he seemed happy to pose for the picture with her, he had likely had to be connived into it. 

It was a cute picture, one that made Riza smile if for no other reason than to see these two she thought of as family to get along so splendidly. She saved the photo and set it as her home screen just in time for Ed to send back, ‘Get away from my wife, you pervert.’

‘Oh Ed,’ Riza thought, but didn’t bother saying aloud. She waited to see what the two on the other end would say.

Their end was silent for five full minutes. Finally, when the chat pinged again, it was another picture. It was a selfie done by Winry, her arm extended forward. The selfie was staged in a bedroom, as the two of them seemed to be seated on a cushy bed, likely Gracia’s. Roy sat behind Winry, his legs drawn around her. His arms swam around her pregnant belly, and his chin was nestled on the crown of her head. He was making the same bedroom eyes he made at Riza when he was messing around. She could tell that he was joking around, and that Winry was as well, but would Ed see that? In a state of heightened agitation, probably not.

Winry was making a delighted face, but also was trying to pull off her best goofy-but-sexy face. She turned her face up to Roy only a little bit that it made her look like she was going to kiss him, her free arm curled up so she could stroke her fingertips on his jawline.

Those two were going to get themselves in huge trouble with Ed when they got home. Riza? She could let it slide this time. Really, Ed was kind of asking for it.

The picture was on their phones for nearly half a minute before Winry finally explained. Ed was silently fuming; Riza could practically see smoke spewing from his ears. She lifted her phone to snap a quick picture to send just to Roy, saying ‘Look at what you two are doing to him.’

Winry’s text was simple and only barely explained the picture. ‘oh yeah didnt you hear? We’re eloping sorry boo ;) xoxo’

Ooohhhhh no. Ed was definitely kicking Roy’s ass when they got home.

Within seconds, Ed answered, ‘I’m kicking your ass if you dont get away from her!!!!’

Riza feared that they’d send another picture, perhaps of them kissing, which she wouldn’t be too happy about. Thankfully they both had the common sense not to respond with that. The text that followed was from Roy: ‘how you feeling, Fullmetal?’

He was stirring the pot. Of course he was.

‘How am i FEELING?!?

Like youre gonna get an ass kicking is how im feeling!!!

And im not an alchemist anymore!!!’

‘With a temper like that, youll ALWAYS be Fullmetal, Fullmetal.’

Ed just about put a hand through the wall, and Riza just about choked trying to suppress a laugh. Ed shot her a look but he must not have seen her laugh, because he immediately turned back to his phone.

‘And you’ll always be a piece of shit, you piece of shit!’ popped up on Riza’s phone seconds later. Riza shook her head and looked down to her forgotten case file. Well. So much for getting closer to going home.

‘:OOOO’ Winry texted immediately after. Roy’s response was a simple, ‘creative, Fullmetal’, just as Winry continued with ‘I’M SO SORRY GENERAL OMFG EDWARD’.

‘Don’t be, I’m not.’

‘That’s no way to speak to your commanding officer.’ Riza informed, then set her phone aside. Ed shot her a look that was half-betrayal, half-surprise, then turned away from her when she looked at her file.

‘...

Yes ma’am’

The phones were silent for probably ten minutes, blessed silence, during which time Ed actually sat down and took a look at his files.

Her phone suddenly chirped with Roy’s newest addition. ‘You know, Ed...’ was all it said, although the indicator said he wasn’t quite done. Riza could feel in the pit of her stomach that whatever he would say, it would spur Ed’s furious rage on further. Not that Roy’s very existence didn’t seem to do so most days.

‘What.’ Ed replied, and Winry’s addition was a nervous little ‘...’.

‘You’re stuck working all week, while I get to care for a beautiful young woman all alone.’

‘General’ Winry cut in, likely in the hopes of quelling her sure-to-be-raging husband.

‘Just me...

And her...’

‘THATS IT IM COMING BACK HOME AND KICKING YOUR ASS MYSELF YOU FUCKIN CREEP’ Ed responded, jerking up out of his bed and toward his suitcase like he intended to pack up and head out.

“Ed!” Riza squawked, hopping out of her seat and to his side. She cut him off from his suitcase and shoved him back, just as Winry replied, ‘OMG Ed it’s fine he’s just joking!!!’

‘Your wife gave me permission to drop kick your ass to next year so be ready for that.’ Ed snarked, crossing his arms. He dropped onto the bed, face souring at his phone.

Riza squeezed the bridge of her nose tiredly and held her hand out to Ed, who stared at her with suspicious, narrowed eyes.

“...What?”

“Give me your phone.”

”What?! Why?!”

“Because you have work to do, now give me your phone, go sit down, and work. You know Roy’s only messing with you.”

Ed stared between her face and her hand, as if unable to believe that he, an adult, was about to be grounded from his own phone. But when Riza wiggled her fingers a little and did not back down, he realized that she was being completely serious. He scowled and slapped his phone into her hand, probably unnecessarily hard, and stormed to his case file. He dropped into the chair like a petulant teen and went about actually doing something useful.

Riza rolled her eyes and pocketed his phone.

‘I most certainly did not,’ she responded on her own phone, taking a seat beside her own case file. ‘But keep it up, Roy Mustang, and I may just change my mind on that.’

To which Roy simply responded, ‘heh... okay okay. ...Love you?’. And Riza, if only to make him sweat a little, did not respond.

#creative aces #fma #fmaauweek2017 #prompt L #implied royai #implied almei #edwin #my writing #I'm sorry ignicule this didn't come out quite right #but I still kinda like it #accept my offering :)