comment_fic | Thursday: Changes

Thursday: Changes

Hi, everyone! I’m

templefugate, your host for the week. As a reminder, for January, we will be trying a new posting schedule. Sundays are for Lonely Prompts and sharing the fills that you completed during the week, Tuesdays and Thursdays are for new themes and prompts, and Saturdays will remain a Free for All.

With that being said, today's theme is changes. Prompts can have anything to do with change of any sort.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ The X-Files, Dana Scully, realizing how different her life is after her father died
+ DC, any sidekick(s), training their successor
+ Spy x Family, Anya Forger & Yuri Briar, struggling with the fact that he's starting to like her

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2024 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? You can use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

While the use of LJ's advanced search options is available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching in the future.

If you are viewing this post on our Dreamwidth site, please know that fills posted here will not show up as comments on our LiveJournal site but you are still more than welcome to participate.

If you have a Dreamwidth account and would feel more comfortable participating there, please feel free to do so…and spread the word! comment_fic

tag=changes

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Any, any, seeing how much their hometown has changed after a long time away

It was years since Lucas had been home, and he wouldn’t have been there now if his aunt hadn’t contacted him to say his mother was ill. The town, he was pleased to see, had moved with the times, although he did experience a pang when it also meant some of his favourite shops as a teenager had been swallowed up by the town centre regeneration. They followed a bus up the hill towards his parents’ house, still a number 12, although the livery was new. Most of the houses in the cul-de-sac had been modernised over the years, so his parents’ house stood out, looking just as it had been when he’d left for the final time.

Ah, thank you so much for this fill! I have never imagined Lucas’s family outside his father before and this was fascinating.

You won't be surprised to hear I have head canon about his family! And thank you.

Any, any, their favorite song is Changes by David Bowie

Any, any, the only thing constant is change

Any, any, a leopard that changes its spots

Any, Any, Moving to a new (town, country, etc.)

Any, Any, starting a new job

This was it, Sanha’s big break. Not his big break. He wasn’t going to become a celebrity or anything. It was dangerous for Downworlders or really any non-humans to put themselves in the human spotlight. More circumspectly, he was on his way to being a regularly and gainfully-employed musician. All those nights busking on the streets of Hongdae even when it was bitterly cold and any human’s fingers would have frozen had finally paid off.

So Sanha stepped up to the reception desk and held out his ID. “Hello, I’m Yoon Sanha. I’m here for producer Kim Seori. I’m one of the session musicians for today.”

The receptionist, a pretty woman with eye makeup that was probably too bold for this small recording studio — was she an aspiring recording artist herself? — nodded and looked at his ID, scanning his name, and then checked something on her computer.

“Yes, welcome, Yoon Sanha-ssi. You’ll be in Studio C up on the fourth floor.”

Even after three months living fully among the humans, Sanha still thrilled whenever he interacted with one closely and he passed. He’d never been able to pass as a demon, half-breed though he was. His mother had tried to get him to fit in.

Demons, as expected, didn’t make very good mothers. That she’d even bothered to carry him to term was some kind of miracle, he supposed.

And now here he was, making his way up the elevator and down the hall past a row of actual real life recording studios. He was going to make his mark on the world forever. Even if little mortals didn’t know it, they’d hear his music and think of him. The thought was intoxicating.

Studio C was in the middle of the hallway, just as the receptionist had described.

Sanha knocked on the door.

It swung open a moment later, and — oh.

The creature standing before him couldn’t be human. Surely he was half-fae? With his delicate features and sun-bright smile.

“Hi! You must be the guitarist. Come on in.” The boy stepped back and gestured for Sanha to enter the studio.

“Ah, yes, I’m Yoon Sanha. I thought Producer Kim was a woman…? At least, it was a woman I spoke to on the phone.” Sanha clutched his guitar case, nervous. Had the receptionist sent him to the wrong place?

Two people were seated in front of the instrument panel, and two more people were sitting on the sofa tucked against the wall opposite the window of the recording booth.

The man who’d answered the door for Sanha plopped himself down in the middle of the sofa, giggling as he squeezed his way between the two women there.

One of the women at the instrument panel turned and smiled at him. She had a pale, oval face and sharp, half-moon eyes. “I’m Kim Seori. Thank you for being here, Yoon Sanha-ssi. This is Kim Byeol, the sound engineer for today’s session. And this is MJ. He’s here warming up while you record your part.”

MJ. The singer. Sanha remembered him now, from that first day in the city. He’d seen MJ’s face around here and there, on billboards and other advertisements, on television. Had he ever heard MJ’s voice? He’d spent so much time diligently learning everything he could about playing the guitar, from folk to punk to metal to classical to jazz, that he hadn’t thought about much pop music.

Not that he couldn’t record pop music. It was mostly four chords, after all, and he had learned to play the guitar parts of some popular songs when he was out busking. He’d even learned to sing some, too. He just hadn’t bothered learning the names of the artists or their faces.

Yet.

Sanha bowed politely. Humans were big on formality. Demons were big on formality, but that had less to do with bowing and more to do with shrieking and claws and spraying ichor everywhere.

“Thank you for having me. I’ll do my best,” he said.

“I look forward to working with you,” MJ said. “I picked you myself.”

Sanha blinked. “Pardon?”

“I saw you out busking one night and knew you would be perfect for this album.” MJ beamed at him, and he really was like sunshine.

Sanha was pretty sure the man wasn’t actually half-fae, though. Fae didn’t like being in the human realm, and half-fae didn’t fare as well in the human world. Even if they were capable of lying and less susceptible to iron and rowan, the human world — and especially an ultramodern city like Seoul, full of cars and machines — wasn’t much friendly to them.

And a half-fae, like a half-demon warlock, knew better than to throw himself into the public eye anyway.
Or did he?

“Thank you for choosing me. I’m very flattered,” was what Sanha said instead of, Are you really human?

Kim Seori handed Sanha a stack of sheet music. “You can sight-read, can’t you?”

Sanha smiled sweetly at her. “Yes, I can.”

At Kim Seori’s direction, he headed into the recording booth and found a stool to sit on. He put on a pair of headphones while Kim Byeol arranged a microphone stand near him. He tuned his guitar, then spread the sheet music on the nightstand.

“Ready?” Kim Seori asked.

Sanha nodded and flashed her an okay sign, and at her signal, he began to play.

After, Kim Seori’s voice flooded his headphones. “That sounded great! Let’s run it by MJ-ssi and see if he wants to make any tweaks, and then you can record the whole thing.”

Sanha nodded. He was surprised when MJ stepped into the studio and stood at one of the mics that came down from the ceiling. Gone was his sunny smile, his face slack with concentration, as he put on a pair of headphones and listened, nodding along to the beat.

He had sheet music in front of him and was marking it with a pencil as he listened. After, he pulled the headphones down to rest around his neck, and he graced Sanha with another of his sunny smiles. “I really like what you did. I just have a few suggestions for dynamics and a few changes in tempo. Have a look.” He held out the sheet music.

Sanha read through it, nodding at the changes. They were subtle. He could handle them. “All right.” He turned to Kim Seori. “Shall I go again?”

She nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”

Sanha began to play — and MJ began to sing.

Sanha knew his voice immediately, golden and honey-sweet, clear and high and strong. Sanha loved this voice. He’d listened to this voice a dozen times and learned a dozen songs in this voice. No wonder MJ had chosen him. He thought Sanha was a fan.

Sanha just knew a magical voice when he heard one.

MJ was one hundred percent mundane, but his was a voice that could drive certain demons to the edge of destruction. So Sanha played his best.

Hours later, when recording was officially finished, Sanha hung back while MJ’s staff coordinated with Seori and Byeol.

“Hyungnim,” Sanha said to MJ, “I really enjoyed working with you today. Can I buy you a meal?”

“I’d like to go out for a meal, but it’s on me. I’m hyung, after all.” MJ grinned at Sanha, and Sanha said,

“Thank you. You’re too kind.”

I'm glad to see things are going well for Sanha! I love that he had a connection to MJ and didn't realize it until MJ started singing. That's really sweet. This 'verse is so intriguing, I love it! Thank you!

Thank you for continuing to enable my weird writing whims. MJ and Sanha have a special connection, it’s true!

Any, Any, assuming a new identity (for any reason)

He stared at the little pale, plastic card with a picture on it, and a name and birth date and resident number and even an address.

“Yoon Sanha.” He tested the syllables on his tongue and made sure not to let it flicker like a serpent’s tongue. “Yoooon Saaaaan Haaaaah.”

But no one really said the H in Sanha if they said it fast.

The little card said he was only twenty-four. He supposed that was about how he looked in his natural state, though as a warlock he could use glamors to change his appearance at well. Except to disguise his warlock mark, the smattering of beautiful dragon scales across his lower ribs. As long as he kept his clothes on, he looked fully human.

Which had been quite the source of mockery, among the other Downworlders — and at the lesser demon he’d laughed at one time, resulting in him being kicked out of Edom. As if he wanted to stay in that hellish mirror of the human realm.

He’d show them. Sanha threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin. He smiled at the woman on the other side of the counter.

“Thank you for all your help. Having my wallet stolen was such a bother,” he said.

She smiled back at him, no doubt charmed by his round cheeks and sweet features. “I’m glad I was able to help. Sorry about the mix-up with the paperwork earlier.”

Sanha knew he owed that little half-fae a good meal after the creature had helped him procure the necessary documents to assume a human identity, made from scratch.

“It wasn’t your fault. Have a lovely day.”

“You too,” the woman said, when he bowed. “And welcome to Seoul.”

Sanha strode out of the government office, guitar case in hand, and paused to look up at the sky heavy with clouds and threatening rain. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the city — cars and buses, music spilling from nearby establishments, people talking on their cellphones or to each other, the giant digital billboard playing bouncy pop music. He opened his eyes and watched the people swirl around him, people who, for all intents and purposes, looked just like him.

Human.

When he glanced up at the billboard, a creature with soft golden curls and a bright, sweet smile was crooning into a microphone about love that was like a red rose. Half-fae, Sanha would have guessed. Someone important, if a whole billboard was playing a video dedicated to their birthday a whole week before said birthday.

MJ, whoever that was, was born on March 5. Sanha’s new birthday was March 21. Should he rent himself a billboard?

First he needed to find work, he supposed. Not that he couldn’t conjure money from the ether at least temporarily.

Sanha headed down the street to the real estate office the nice government worker had recommended. If he wanted to live among the humans, to enjoy the comforts and delights of their world, he had to do it properly. Somewhere out there he had a birth certificate, and a family register, and old school report cards, and even some school photos in which he was wide-eyed behind round glasses and even more round-cheeked. He had a driver’s license and he’d already done his military service and now —
Now he was free to live his life as he chose.

And he was choosing music.

In Hell, there was no music.

Only screams.

Sanha pushed open the door of the real estate office and smiled at the middle-aged woman in a professional dress suit designed for someone two decades her junior.

“Hello, I’m looking for an apartment to rent.”

“Welcome, customer. What’s your name? What’s your price range?”

“My name,” he said, “is Yoon Sanha, and my price range is modest. I’m a musician.”

All those years hanging on the edges of the human world, listening to music and watching people play, which the other demons had dismissed as a strange perversion, would finally pay off.

“Oh, what do you play?”

“The guitar, mostly.” He hefted his case for her to see.

“Anything I’ve ever heard?”

“Not yet.”

I love that this is turning into a 'verse! It's interesting to see Sanha's journey into the human world. Him making the transition for music is so cool and so fitting. So cool!

Thank you! I am glad you are liking it so far. I am shamelessly making a verse and I appreciate your enabling thus far.

Any, Any +/ Any, change to relationship status

Dongmin felt a whisper down his spine when someone crossed his wards.

He reached out with his magic, tracing the magical signal, and recognized the seal of the person who’d been granted access to his wards. Anyone who had one of those seals could enter Dongmin’s apartment building. But they’d only get as far as the door.

Dongmin didn’t hand those seals out to just anyone, though. For petty mundanes and downworlders, he had a storefront where he did business. Someone with a seal was more important, or demanded more discretion.

So Dongmin rose from his armchair, where he’d been rereading the Narrative of Zosimus in the original Greek, and smoothed down his shirt. He reached up absently and ran a hand over his antlers, feeling the soft velvet of them. In June they grew rapidly, and he could no longer wear a hat to cover them when he went out, so he stayed in — or went out to places where a man wearing deer antlers for fun wouldn’t be looked at twice.

Not that Dongmin wore antlers for fun. They marked him as a warlock, and downworlders and Nephilim alike sneered at him, called him half-breed. But they still paid for his services, and they paid handsomely.
Dongmin was at the front door right as someone knocked.

A knock meant a Nephilim, luddites that they were. A downworlder or a mundane would have known to use the doorbell, with its camera intercom.

Dongmin summoned a politely neutral expression and opened the door.

And stared, at a pretty Shadowhunter boy dressed in an alluring combination of leather and lace. Tattoos curled at his throat and his wrists.

“You’re not Park Jinwooo,” Dongmin said.

Park Jinwoo was a skilled hunter and leader, up-and-coming at the Seoul Institute. The Council expected great things of him. He’d been trusted with one of Dongmin’s seals to request magic for especially tricky hunts.

“I’m Park Minhyuk.” He bowed, deep and respectful, then straightened up. “I’m one of Park Jinwoo’s teammates.”

Dongmin let a smile curl his lips. “Ah, yes, Moon Bin’s parabatai. Won’t you come in? How is lovely Binnie? And the very pretty Sua.” He stepped back and gestured for Minhyuk to enter, which Minhyuk did, casting a wary glance about him.

Dongmin’s threshold wards shimmered briefly. Of course Minhyuk was armed, but he wasn’t possessed of ill intent toward Dongmin — yet.

“So, what can I do for the Seoul Institute?”

“I need poison,” Minhyuk said.

Dongmin raised his eyebrows. “Come again?”

“The kind of poison that can render vampire subjugates unconscious at a specific time interval after consumption,” Minhyuk said.

He was unsmiling, utterly serious. His voice was deeper than Dongmin had expected, a little husky, but then Bin’s voice had been higher and sweeter than Dongmin had expected. Where Bin was tall and broad, Minhyuk was slender and lean — but for his large, strong hands.

“You need a sleeping draft?” Dongmin echoed.

Minhyuk nodded. “Yes, High Warlock.”

“You call it a poison?”

“A substance that harms is a poison; a substance that heals is a medicine.” Minhyuk sounded like he was reciting out of a textbook.

Dongmin drifted toward his bookcase, the one stocked with Ancient Egyptian texts, and pressed against two spots on the third shelf, causing the entire bookcase to swing open and reveal a cupboard full of glittering potions vials. “One substance in the right dose is a medicine and the wrong dose a poison — depending on your point of view, of course. Even life-giving water at the wrong dose is lethal to a human.”
Minhyuk went utterly still, blinking, processing. Then he nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

“The Academy is so uptight these days,” Dongmin said. He studied the rows of bottles and vials and considered which one would be the best for the task. He reached for a cut glass bottle of gleaming amber liquid.

“A sleeping draft that is tasteless when dissolved in water or another drink would be preferable,” Minhyuk added.

Dongmin veered toward a bottle of mingled sapphire and jade. “I didn’t realize the Vampire Courts were being unruly again.” He picked up the bottle and unstoppered it, sniffed its contents, and then carried it over to his workbench to decant a smaller amount into a vial. “How many humans do you need to knock out?”

“The total number is unknown, but at least three, most likely double that,” Minhyuk said.

Dongmin filled a small vial and stoppered it with a cork and a dash of magic. Then he flicked his wrist, and the larger bottle whisked itself back into the cupboard, and the bookshelves resumed their previous position. “Well, just a drop in about eight ounces of water will do the trick. Pay me and then you can be on your way, one well-compensated merchant, one satisfied customer.”

“Thank you,” Minhyuk said, and then paused. “What do you want in payment?”

Dongmin smiled and leaned in to meet Minhyuk’s gaze, letting his eyes flare magical blue. “You probably should have asked that before you accepted that vial, shouldn’t you?”

“I have money,” Minhyuk began. He paused. “I have some mundane cash.”

“Council coin not good enough for little old me?”

The tips of Minhyuk’s ears turned faintly pink, but his expression remained blank.

“Ah,” Dongmin said. “This isn’t for a Council-sanctioned hunt is it? Then I think our relationship status has changed from merchant and customer to co-conspirators, hasn’t it?”

“High Warlock,” Minhyuk began, but Dongmin pressed a finger to his lips, hushing him.

“You’ll have to pay me not only for the potion but for my silence.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard.

Dongmin straightened up. Then he said, “I want you to dance for me.”

Minhyuk blinked. “Right — right now?”

“I can only assume you stole your team captain’s seal and came to get this potion from me on the downlow because there’s an emergency, so no, not right now. But after your mission is finished, come here, and dance for me.” Dongmin smiled.

Minhyuk blinked. “I don’t — I don’t know how to dance like mundanes dance. Like in clubs or — or music videos.”

Judging by the flush creeping up his throat, Minhyuk was thinking Dongmin wanted something salacious, like a lap dance or pole dance or strip-tease.

“I know. I’ve heard that you dance beautifully, and that you’re trained in the classical Shadowhunter arts as well as traditional Korean dance. I want you to dance for me,” Dongmin said.

At that, Minhyuk nodded tightly. “Yes, High Warlock. Do you have a preference…?”

Dongmin smiled. “Surprise me, co-conspirator. And impress me.”

Minhyuk nodded again and bowed, clutching the vial to his chest the way some women clutched their pearls, but then he spun on his heel and strode for the door, all confidence.

Dongmin fluttered his fingers, and the door opened, which made Minhyuk startle and recoil before he glanced over his shoulder at Dongmin and bobbed his head in thanks, and then he was gone.

The door closed behind him, and Dongmin sank against his work bench, considering. It had been a long time since he’d seen a truly gifted dancer, and by all reports, young Park Minhyuk was one of the best dancers in a whole generation of Shadowhunters, his younger brother Jeonggeun still a student at the Academy but showing some of the same promise as his brother.

It had been an even longer time since Dongmin had thought of one of his creations as medicine, but then he’d long been disabused of the notion that he could one day become a doctor. After all, the people who’d lived in the village on the edge of the woods where he’d been raised would never have wanted healing from a monster.

Dongmin smoothed a hand over the velvet of his antlers once more, and then he resumed his seat and picked up his book. He’d see Minhyuk again. Till then, he hoped his part in the conspiracy was ended.

This is so moody and cool! Dongmin seems super badass here, and I love that his choice of payment is to see Minhyuk dance. Thank you so much, friend!

You’re so welcome! I do enjoy me some badass Dongmin.

Any, any, a whole new world

Myungjun stepped out of the perpendicularity — and into a blazing riot of color.

There was color everywhere. On every building. People’s clothes were all shades of color and some Myungjun might not have imagined before. Was it dye? Was it from many-colored plants? Were humans here capable of having hair blue or green? The crowded city square was decorated with random statues of soldiers. Each of them was unique in face and form, frozen mid-strike or mid-march. Though the statues were of stone gray, they had all been adorned with colored scarves and shawls and swathes of cloth. Some of them looked silly, as a result. Others were sweeping and dramatic. An ordinary foot-soldier had been turned into a commanding general with the addition of a long, fluttering cape.

Another soldier’s spear had been turned into a pennant, a length of light cloth tied beneath the spear tip and floating in a breeze.

No one had noticed Myungjun’s entrance because everyone was trying to be noticed. Men and women alike wore outlandish hats and headdresses and hairstyles. There was no unified fashion sense, not like the high-collared dresses that noblewomen wore on Roshar, or the tattered streamers of mist cloaks on Scadrial. Some people wore vests and shorts, some long dresses, some trousers and blouses. One woman wore what was pretty much a single length of cloth with a hole in the middle for her head. It was belted at the waist and showed off everything down both sides.

Myungjun supposed if he’d had such fantastic curves he’d wear an outfit like that too.

But he had no such curves.

And he was wearing the double-breasted jacket of a Rosharan military officer, which probably didn’t look out of place at the moment, but as soon as he interacted with a local, they’d notice something was amiss. He didn’t understand the fashion codes here — yet.

But he needed to learn, and fast.

Because he had to enter the Court of Gods, and he had to find Vasher.

Myungjun shrugged off his jacket and draped it over one shoulder, and he stepped into the flow of foot traffic. He had to use his Connection so he could understand the local language.

Unsurprisingly, it was full of colors too.

Literally.

“By the God of Colors, how could he do such a thing?”

“Poor thing, she’s a dun now. All her color’s gone. But it’s for the good of her family, isn’t it? To be blessed by gods so.”

“ — Palaces are an absolute masterwork of color. I know, it all seems like red to you, but once you achieve the right heightening you’ll be able to see that the outer colors are a perfect combination of shades in fifths. Seeing them is like music to your ears. Or, well, eyes.”

“By the Iridescent Tones, could she be any more maddening?”

“He represents all colors, not just one, unlike the other gods.”

Myungjun filed that away. He knew on a superficial level about Biochromatic breaths and how color could be fuel for doing seemingly magical tasks on this planet, but it hadn’t occurred to him that colors would be part of the religion and worship.

It should have been obvious, he supposed. Peoples across space and time used religion to explain what went on in the world around them, especially things that seemed supernatural. Sucking all the color out of a piece of cloth to animate another piece of cloth surely seemed like magic.

The best way to get information, Myungjun knew, was to play dumb. He cast about for what might be a local watering hole and saw, on a sign, a picture of something that very much resembled a lobster. Given that there were tables scattered around the establishment near the sign and everyone was eating, Myungjun was confident that this planet — or at least this society on this planet — had the economic robustness to afford restaurants.

People were always more tractable with food and drink in them.

Now, what constituted currency around here?

Myungjun would have to earn some.

He’d do what he did best — sing. After all, he was a Worldsinger, and a Worldbringer — and a Worldhopper. He had songs no one else had ever heard. Time to see if the locals would find them beautiful.

And if busking was a thing here, too, because the last thing he needed was to get arrested.

Although that would get him a meal.

So. Myungjun reached into his pack for his small lyre, and he climbed up onto the plinth of one of the statues, and he began to play.

This is so cool! I love that, in a world where color is so important, it informs everything from language to religion to custom. That seems like it would be tricky to just pop into and navigate, but I like that Myungjun has some strategies and experience enough to figure things out. Love it!

Thank you! None of the cool worldbuilding is mine. But the color world is one of my favorites! Let's be real poor MJ spends a lot of time being a beggar and a madman on foreign planets...

Oh, what a fun fill! I'm not familiar with the Cosmere (Sanderson is perpetually on my tbr list), but the way you wrote it here is really neat, making the world feel so intriguing. And now I'm curious about how Myungjun got where he is--and is he a real military officer, or just borrowing a coat? Thanks for the fill :D

You’re so welcome! This fill is set in Warbreaker, which is a standalone in the Cosmere, and a great place to start. Myungjun did come by the jacket legitimately, but calling him an officer would be a stretch…

Oh, I didn't know Warbreaker was a standalone, thanks! I have a copy of The Way of Kings, I think, but I just haven't gotten to it yet (they're just so chonky!).

Thankfully Sanderson has multiple standalones in the Cosmere. My favorite is actually a novella called The Emperor’s Soul and it’s a great place to start.

Thanks! :D

Torchwood, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, it all changes (for the better?) after Jack's immortality gets fixed

The Owl House, Luz Noceda + any, life after losing glyph magic (X posted)

The X-Files, Dana Scully, realizing how different her life is after her father died

DC, any sidekick(s), training their successor

Spy x Family, Anya Forger & Yuri Briar, struggling with the fact that he's starting to like her

Any, any, hair beginning to turn grey

Any, any, missing the way things used to be

Star Wars, any family, not a little kid anymore

author's choice, any, a positive change in their life happens but even so they can't help but worry

author's choice, any +/ any, visiting an old hangout after years away (how much has changed and how much hasn't?)

Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric+ any, adjusting to no longer being able to do alchemy (xposted)

The Owl House, Hunter + any, everyone knows he's a Grimwalker, now what happens?

The Owl House, Luz Noceda + any, life after losing glyph magic (X posted)

Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric+ any, adjusting to no longer being able to do alchemy (xposted)

The Owl House, Hunter + any, everyone knows he's a Grimwalker, now what happens?

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Thursday: Changes

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Spooks (MI5), Lucas North

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Fill: Astro, Shadowhunter AU, Sanha + MJ + OFCs

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Fill: Astro, Shadowhunter AU, Sanha

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Fill: Astro, Shadowhunter AU, Dongmin + Minhyuk

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Fill: Astro, Myungjun, Cosmere fusion

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