#majorxwriteyxboy

Yes!! Several.

Ben likes candied lemon peels.

He wears a ribbon because a girl complimented hair ribbons while he was at Yale.

OH MAN.

His dragoons, John Andre, Robert Rogers, Simcoe, Hamilton, Laurens, literally any of the other aides, Lafayette, NATHAN HALE...

Musketeers kind of...small town AU i guess? where Treville owns this sort of hotel/diner called Gary’s Inn, and he’s in constant brutal competition with Rochefort, who owns a sort of tavern situation called Patch’s. Also Bonacieux runs a high-end clothing store, Aramis is an ER nurse or EMT, d’Artagnan’s dad gets murdered on Christmas, Louis is the mayor. apparently Athos is kind of considered the Weird Neighbor and then at some point is just in d’Artagnan’s house. past!me didn’t elaborate on how or why that happened but it says that d’Artagnan calls Porthos about it and then attacks Athos, so that seems pretty much correct.

 The fake!married saga where d’Artagnan goes undercover as Charlotte, Aramis’ charming bride, and then in the sequel Aramis is undercover as Rene, Constance’s charming husband. i feel like there was a part three somewhere involving Athos but i’ve not found it yet

 a Merlin au that’s just (intentionally) the plot of Emperor’s New Groove

Merlin au set in the Freya episode and i guess Merlin panics and turns Freya into an actual cat in order to buy her some time

turning characters into either cats or ghosts is all i know how to do what can i say

outline of a TURN fic that’s literally like, after outlining the Problem of the story, “Washington reacts with more sympathy than is even remotely in character but we can dream”

[Question from @majorxwriteyxboy.]

‘Thera Time’, in the sense that it really is Thera Time, is always spent alone. Not in the sad way but in the chilled out, joyous, ‘nobody around to judge or interfere’ way. No disturbances, not even the innocent ‘walking across the room’ or ‘turning the page of a book’ sort of noises that happen if someone else is around.

Nobody is there to care what she looks like or what she’s wearing or what she eats or drinks. Nobody cares if she decides to work out, or read pulp novels or do the vacuuming at midnight while rocking out to a mixtape featuring Mama Mia, Can The Can and Mi-Sex’s Computer Games.

Nobody cares about the huge bowl of mac, cheese and bacon with chili sauce while she sits watching 70′s kids’ shows and cheering for Witchiepoo, or spends 3 hours in the bath pampering herself from head to toe.

Nobody cares if she goes up to the rooftop garden of her place in New York and just lies there, looking at the sky.

No judgement, no justification. Nobody sitting around just a little on edge because ok fine, but they don’t understand. They don’t mean to hassle her, but there’s always at least a tiny edge, in her own mind at least, that sayd at any minute they might.