I want to make an au or a story or shine thing where time messes up. And a bunch of versions of the main character are pulled through time to one specific time period. One from about every 3 years. Except theyâre not pulled through space. So the first part of the story is two high school aged main character (including the one who didnât change times and stayed in their correct time while everyone else moved to them) freaking out, and then they start receiving confused texts from their bffs from middle school who are responding questions that theyâre not receiving. Anyways, they figure out pretty fast that thereâs a version of them from middle school running around as well, and have to manage to pick that kid up from school. Next issue is getting their elementary school and preschool versions of themselves. They may be slightly wanted by the police for kidnapping a child from daycare, but does it really count if the child you are kidnapping is yourself?
Theyâve also discovered by sending emails and DMs to themselves and praying that the older versions of themself still have the same accounts and that their devices still use the same network connection protocols, that thereâs at least two college aged versions of themself floating around as well.
Basically the first part of the story is everyoneâs panicked journey to figure out what the hell is going on, how many of us are there, and how to get everyone in one place.
This is of course complicated by the fact that people only traveled through time with what was on their person. Thankfully, one of the college versions was in their car at the time and the car came with them. (They have no idea how they didnât crash). Although they were more than a little worried about driving around in a car with license plates from the future, as well as being only two years old with a hundred thousand miles on it.
College versions of mc go on a road trip to get back to their hometown, and pick up the rest of the kids. Having two cars (one from senior in college, and one from high school) comes in handy when youâve got multiple kids that need car seats. (The car seats were stolen from a local store. Theyâve already got kidnapping on their record, why not add theft?)
Older versions are annoyingly vague about the past, trying to avoid causing a paradox. But thereâs also only so much that you can hide. (Think of going back to November of 2019 and trying to be normal when you see a news article about this new virus going around in China)
Anyways I have no ideas for what could have possibly caused this, or what to do with the gang once they all regroup.Iâm guessing they would try to fix the issue. Everyone would go back to their home time, probably with a memory wipe to avoid paradoxes.
They could probably manage to leave behind some little notes or letters or something for the version whose home time it was.
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Spare Georgebur royal au please? I really like your au and feel like it's been years since I read about it!!
anon i am on my hands and knees for you,, oh my god. idk every time i talk about my georgebur royalty au i always feel like the only clown in the whole circus so it really means so much that you enjoy it, so much so to seek it out omgfhgdf iâm crying thank you. this oneâs for you anon i put my heart and soul in it, as i always seem to do when it comes to this AU lmao don't tell the others i have favorites x
send prompts pspspsp
âYou love me,â his voice is so soft Wilbur nearly thinks he imagined it, a mere little thought wondered, pondered out loud. Itâs clear to Wilbur that it was not something he was meant to hear, but he responds anyway.
âYou say that as if it is hard to believe.â Wilbur reaches over to tuck a piece of Georgeâs hair behind his ear, fingers grazing against the jewel attached to his lobe. An icy teardrop, a tiny thing in the grand scheme of things, and yet it still makes Wilburâs heart swell due to what it represents. âAre you not as beloved here, as I am in my kingdom?â George turns his head, letting Wilburâs touch stray against the warmth of his cheek, and smiles quietly at him.
âMaybe itâs because itâs me, and you.â An echo of a former conversation that makes Wilburâs smile turn even more honeyed, and this time he finds that he doesnât quite hate the term nearly as much.
âYouâve not said it back,â he remarks, his tone making it clear that heâs only teasing. Though Wilburâs strength lies with his words, he does not need them to feel secure. Not when he already knows that his feelings are reciprocated, if only from the way that George brandishes his earring so proudly and only ever seems to smile and laugh and blush as much as he does when heâs around him.
Their moonlit garden seems even more lovely in the reflection of Georgeâs dual-colored eyes as he smiles wider, tilting his head further into Wilburâs touch, and he once again is reminded of a cat due to his loverâs antics. âWonât you rather me say Iâm yours?â
âNo,â is his pensive reply after not even a beat.
George quirks an eyebrow. âNo?â
âYou donât have to be mine, though Iâll have you if thatâs what you wish. What I want is your love, not you necessarily.â Wilbur captures Georgeâs lips in his, who softly sighs into the kiss. Part fondly and part exasperatedly.
âMust you always out romance me at a time like this?â
âWell, wonât you humor me and say it? Why are you so shy?â George turns back to gaze at the roses, leaning his body into Wilburâs side and therefore his warmth.
âMy family never did any of that âlove is weaknessâ bullshit,â Wilbur raises his eyebrows at the sudden vulgarness of his words, but stays silent as George continues, âbut theyâve always equated vulnerability to weakness, and I know love makes even the strongest men vulnerable. Itâs hard to unlearn something that Iâve been taught since before I could even walk,â he pauses, a breath.
âBut I think Iâd like to try if itâs with you.â
(âyou are the first person to make me speechlessâ :handshake: âyou make me feel like itâs safe to be vulnerableâ georgebur in my royalty au making me want to throw up /pos)
âCareful, dove,â Wilbur murmurs. He must be drunk on moonlight and their time spent together; he doesnât even realize that the words had escaped his mouth until George turned towards him.
âDove?â George questions, pulling Wilburâs hand away from where it covered his mouth as though he could take the words back. âWhat is that? Not âloveâ?â He tilts his head and Wilbur pretends as though the word in the sense of a term of endearment in Georgeâs voice doesnât make his heart stutter. Most things, in that sense, make his weak heart tremble, but Wilbur is but a weak man himself when it comes to his lover.
âItâs nothing. Forget it, please.â A sliver of desperation to cover up his mistake. He doesnât even realize, once again, how his words seem to mirror something from a past conversation that flickers almost dangerously across Georgeâs face.
âWe know what happened the last time you told me to forget about something,â George says remorselessly, in both a forgiving and unforgiving way that makes Wilbur wince the tiniest bit. âDonât we, dove?â He leans towards Wilbur with a curious âI wonât let this goâ kind of expression, repeating the word mockingly to show Wilbur that he wonât just forget it this time. Not that he did any other time.
âItâs-itâs something my parents would call each other, sometimes. Iâm sorry. It just-it slipped out.â The vulnerability that comes with admittance makes Wilbur almost want to shrivel up. The underlying meaning behind âit slipped out,â the idea that at Wilburâs most honest self, he mirrors the way his parents act is, to put simply, embarrassing. Wilbur thought that he was past embarrassment at this point.
Georgeâs eyes soften. More like, his whole expression both melts and brightens, eyes flickering with a hint of shyness that seems to bubble and bubble until he turns away, looking back to where he had been looking before. âDonât apologize for something like that,â he coughs, bashful. The hand thatâs holding Wilburâs tightens.
(woahh george pov moment!! not sure how i feel about this one. honestly i don't know how i feel about his character as a whole in the fic but I'm trying it out a little and what better to test it out than to write bits and bobs of george's pov of their first meeting?))
âLook, George. All those sparkling lights in the sky are the twin godsâ tears blessing you, and our land.â George cannot remember his motherâs face. No amount of portraits scattered across the castle nor remarks that he and his sister carry her countenance well would ever amount to the gentleness in his motherâs expression that he fights every single day to remember and hold on to til his hands are balled into fists and shaking. He cannot remember her face, but he remembers the sweetness of her voice and her gentle touch on his head as he cranes his head up to look at the blanket of stars that seemed so unfathomable to him, only a childâs mind at the time.
Every time he looks at those same stars, he wishes he had looked longer at his mother instead. What was her expression on that night? Had she known her fate? George does not often lie, but he will admit now that to him, it is not the twin godsâ tears that stain the night on this supposed momentous day.
Frankly, heâs not sure why he said such a thing to the boy with the beautiful starstruck eyes, nor does he know why heâd asked him to stay when normally heâd force him to leave. Maybe itâs because his eyes, if George could go back in time to see his child self, must be the same as his that night. Maybe itâs because of âfate,â as his mother might say if she were still-
If she were still-
Maybe he had been desperate for a distraction. Not from the celebrations, all meticulously prepared, all meant for him when all he wanted to do was count stars til his vision was too blurry to differentiate constellations from each other, and all else that was happening just beyond the closed doors to the balcony they were in. And maybe it was fate after all, though there was something in George that somehow knew that this stranger would be the only one to humor him when he asked to pretend. Pretend. As though foregoing his name and his title and abandoning his claim to this land and the stars above would make everything that happened on this terrible momentous day only a lie and not something that George will have to live with for all his life.
Well, it works. The twin gods must truly favor George, or perhaps they pity him, perhaps they are apologizing and perhaps George simply chose well. The kind and beautiful stranger told the most vivid and alluring tales and spun life with his voice both in speech and in song and George did not forget. How could he, when he knew too well what those icy blue eyes represent? But maybe, he allowed himself reprieve; he laughed harder than heâd had in years and smiled, genuinely, eyes creasing and heart both heavy and oh so light, and for that night that was more than enough.
He laces their pinkies together on top of the pavilion his mother loved. The stranger takes the rest of his hand and George would only find the gentleness to be half-familiar and remember it for years to come.