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actual-changeling · 4 months

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Do you think Aziraphale has been verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused by Heaven as well?

I will answer this question like one asked in good faith even though my gut is telling me there's a 50/50 chance it is very much not one.

So!

There are two parts to his answer, or rather one question is actually two.

Firstly, we have to talk about whether heaven is abusive, what that abuse looks like, and how it differs from hell.

Secondly, how did the results of question one affect Aziraphale, if it is different from what the other angels in heaven face, and what additional trauma might he have experienced due to being on earth.

I could write a 10k meta post about this and go into the finest detail, but I will just try and stick to the main points for now. It's still going to be way too long because I am so fucking tired of people accusing me of 'hating' Aziraphale or harassing me on my posts or in my inbox.

Is heaven abusive? Yes, and it applies to both heaven as an institution and the Archangels running it.

Getting to know Muriel and what their life looks like was extremely helpful in properly defining this, because they showed us that although the Archangels tend to travel and work as a group, most of the angels are incredibly isolated.

The result is complete emotional neglect, which not only impairs your ability to form and maintain healthy relationships with other people, it also stops your from learning emotional regulation and how to behave and feel as a part of (angelic) society. We see the consequences of that in Muriel, who comes across as overly naive, socially awkward, and out of touch with not just people but themselves.

When your entire life has been shrunk down to what happens inside your own head, suddenly being confronted with having to live outside of your mind is jarring, overwhelming, and foreign.

How do you talk to people when no one ever taught you how to do that? How do you behave around someone after a lifetime of being alone? How do your regulate your responses to their behaviour?

Who are you when there is someone else to perceive you?

Figuring that out is complicated and it takes time, and while most of the angels are only distantly aware of how humans live and what kind of interactions some of the other angels might have, the effects of that neglect stay the same whether they are aware of it or not.

Muriel shows us that angels are not born/made as a blank slate, and neither are humans for that matter. Tabula rasa as a philosophical belief is one thing, but reality is very, very different.

Angels also appear to have the same inherent need for connection, for a caretaker that loves them unconditionally, for someone to help them figure out how to be, and that provides a safe space to make mistakes. Without some or all of that, you grow up into a disregulated, socially awkward if not inept person who does not know how to have relationships or how to properly exist.

It is one of the reasons why autistic people are a) almost always traumatized to some degree and b) do not know how to socialize. No one ever works with our brains, and the resulting neglect is very similar to not receiving any help at all.

If you are now curious what happens if you're both autistic and were completely socially neglected, the result is uh. me. Hi! Not nice, but at least I am very sure I win the award for being my therapist's most fucked up client, so that's something.

Yet the angels are not solely emotionally neglected, the system/household they live in demands a low self-esteem, a lack of individual identity, and complete adherence to a defined ideology and behavioural pattern. In short, you are told how to be a useless, tiny part in a bigger machine, that your only purpose is to succeed at your tasks, and any opportunity for individual development is removed or destroyed.

If you are now once again curious what that might be like, uh, yeah, hi once more. Obviously my childhood was not exactly like an angels life, but the core characteristics were the same, just realized differently. Again, not pretty, really, really fucks you over.

Take that and the neglect, combine it into one person, and then drop them in the Garden of Eden—hello Aziraphale! Crowley got dropped into hell first, experienced more abuse, and then dug his way up into Eden before joining him.

Aziraphale experienced everything Muriel (and Crowley, and every other celestial being) also experienced, with one main difference: He is the one who got away.

We have to remember that out of every single celestial being, Aziraphale got the best deal. He did not fall, he got out of heaven (more or less) permanently, and was then largely left alone.

Does that erase anything I laid out above? No, of course not!

It simply provided him with the opportunity to heal, to take his cPTSD and who knows what other disorders he developed as a result, and start recovering.

Canonically, heaven did not bother him, like, ever, except for the odd note about 'frivolous miracles' or ten minutes of catching up every millennia. They only started monitoring him once they started to suspect he was involved with Crowley and trying to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Aziraphale worked on some things, he got better in many regards, especially with Crowley there to support him, but after six thousand years, many aspects have stayed the same or regressed back to the start over and over.

I will tell you a hard pill to swallow now: If you refuse to acknowledge your issues to instead live in a world of nicer denial and compartmentalization even when you have been offered the chance to change it, that is partly on YOU.

Is it fair? Fuck no! It's not fair at all, and I have had so many breakdowns over that fact. I did not break it, this is not my FAULT so why should I have to fix it all on my own? Why do I have to do the work, not them? How come they get away with it while I am going to have to carry this for the rest of my life?

I still have to do it though. I have to do the work, no matter how uncomfortable and exhausting, because I want to get better.

This conversation has so many facets and is a lot more complex, but this is already long enough, so if you have any questions or want to know something specific (while asking politely and in good faith) just send me an ask; I will do my best to answer it.

We are now only missing the last part of question 2, and that one is also so fucking complicated reducing it to the main points almost feels wrong, but I will do it anyway. Again, just ask if you have questions.

Abusive households are horrible, and you want to get out and away, but they are also the only thing you know. The world is scary, too big, too open, where did all the rules go that were previously defining your life?

Surviving in an abusive environment means you establish routine after routine after routine for every possible horrible scenario, you write a mental rule book to try and reduce the abuse (don't make them angry, don't cry when they're already shouting, don't do this, don't do that, do x but not y), and THAT is your socialization. THAT is everything you know, everything you are, everything you know relationships to be like.

Once you are away from that, you are completely and utterly lost. Even breathing feels like making a mistake, you feel watched, judged, rated, berated, you have them stuck in your fucking head. So you keep sticking to what you know, your behavioural patterns that have kept you safe your entire life.

The problem is that they kept you safe, past tense. In a healthy environment, all of those coping mechanisms are now maladaptive and harm you instead of keeping you safe.

However, breaking out of them and starting from scratch is terrifying. So, so, so terrifying. I live in constant fear, I feel judged and unsafe in my own flat with the curtains shut and the lights on. I feel like I am about to get subjected to another one of his fits for daring to use the stove.

No matter what you do, your body and brain are SCREAMING at you that diverging from what you know will kill you—and then you have to do it anyway.

Do it alone and afraid and awkwardly but DO IT. Otherwise you will always find a way to recreate the environment you grew up in, whether that is people getting into unhealthy relationships and replicating the patterns they know (which Aziraphale does with Crowley, e.g. the push-pull of his affection) or eventually even returning to it because they ruined you, but a part of you is so, so attached to them you just have to try and change them.

Some people can move on from it without going back, but sometimes you need to try and experience that failure for yourself before being able to move on, and that's where Aziraphale is at.

He needs to try and fail to be capable of finally committing to recovering.

So, to summarize this entire shitshow: Yes, Aziraphale experienced emotional neglect and abuse, and while it is different to what Crowley went through and objectively less intense and physical, it is still just as valid and horrid.

Just because a car accident is objectively worse than falling off a bike doesn't mean the biker's pain is unimportant. Both can kill you, both can hurt you, and both deserve to get their injuries treated.

Questions?

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #heaven is terrible #trauma discussion #long post

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infraczern · 6 months

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Yeah, I'm incredibly late..

Vampire Bertie au ^-^

So. The story behind it. I'll try to make it sound properly..

"Some chap from the Drones was throwing a party at their house and of course I decided to go and have a jolly good time. Unfortunately some bothersome blonde Lady found me interesting and tried to flirt with me all night following me anywhere I went. When I eventually managed to escape her somewhere at the back of the huge mansion I found myself a bit lost. I was roaming the corridors, slightly too drunk to concentrate on returning to the main hall, when someone who was lurking in the niche grasped and pushed me to the wall with unnatural strength. The fact it was a woman seemed even more threatening. You have to know that even though I'm not the strongest chap I'm definitely not of a shape that can be easily tossed around by some fragile Lady. Unfortunately she didn't appear fragile and her nails were painfully tightening around my wrist. Before I fully understood what was going on she unbuttoned my shirt and was biting me. I might have fainted for a moment because when I managed to collect my thoughts I was laying on the ground and the blonde Lady I met before was there and shouting. She must have seen the scary woman but when I spoke to her she suddenly seemed clueless and denied seeing anyone. Then she left expeditiously mumbling something about indecent behaviour. I was in a morbid mood, drunk and sore. I didn't even notice when I was heading home. I jolly well hope that those crazy Ladies will stop waylaying gentlemen on every corner!"

And then Jeeves have to handle the vampire Lady situation because she is trying to kill Bertie so he wouldn't become a vampire. Bertie is not really aware of what happened and tries to ignore those weird new appearance features that are starting to pop up here and there. But it's getting harder when the desire to drink blood appears...

You see, I don't really know how vampires work so I made up my own mechanics. When the vampire bites someone they have to kill them afterwards otherwise the victim has a chance to become a vampire. To achieve that, the victim has to bite someone else and drink their blood, in that case the original vampire loses their immortality to the new one. If the victim doesn't do anything they can be sick for a while and then continue regular life or just die in a couple of days if they lose too much blood. The victim is more likely to become a vampire because they start to feel a strong urge to bite somebody. What is interesting about this case is that the first person the victim bit can't become a vampire cause the victim still isn't one. The vampire Lady would kill Bertie but she was interrupted by the Blonde one and now in order to not lose her immortality she has to kill him before he bites someone. There is also a second way to solve this problem but it needs Bertie and the vampire Lady to take part in some ritual that would connect their souls but neither Bertie nor the vampire Lady are eager to participate in it.

I hope I made it clear hah

#Joosterween #jeeves and wooster #reginald jeeves #bertie wooster #pg wodehouse #vampire bertie au

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itscherrylipsforme · 1 month

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Did not expect: Rodrick Heffley x fem!reader

Blurb. Reader is a "gold star" student and a good influence for him, but also a hardcore rock lover. Slightly spicy at the end so +16. Incredibly self-indulgent

Masterlist Characters I write for

If someone had asked Rodrick what type of girl he was into he would have answered that any groupie nice and enthusiastic about him enough would play the part. After all he was sure that thousands of them would be after him the moment Löded Dipper became a smash. What certainly did not expect was... Well, falling for you instead.

And he did not mean that to sound rude. It's just that you were not in his plans (he barely knew if he had one most of the time, but if he had it you were definitely not in it). He couldn't find the way to put it in better words. You were not his type, wait no... That wasn't the truth actually. You were, but not in the way he had expected.

In one of his meeting with his bandmates they started to talk about their "dream girl". Among other less innocent requirements Rodrick added this two: "Great music taste" and "must copy with my humour". You had both, nevertheless he still believed himself to be out of his mind when he realized he had caught feelings for you.

He had seen you around in High School, it was weird to someone not to know your name. Popular was not the word he would use to describe you. Surely you were not among the people in the top of the social pyramid. Known, that was what you were. Perfect student. Nice most of the time, sarcastic and witty when needed. Most of the teachers relayed on you if they required a tutor for some of their students. That's how you started to properly talk with him.

He did not expect you to find him sitting in the library with his black headphones on. He hadn't planed that you would be his last opportunity to pass literature this year. Yet you were, so he waited for you to come. Same way he wasn't aware that his headphones weren't fully connected to his mp3. He did not expect that the drums' beat coming from there was quiet enough not to anyone else in the library to notice, but you.

"Hawkins is the best drummer ever, just after Roger Taylor of course" He did not expect that you would say that as you left your books by his side of the table.

"What?" A small confused smile appeared in his lips.

"Taylor Hawkins I mean" You shrugged "You have a great taste, I love Foo Fighters too. The Mp3 was unplugged, that's why I heard it. I thought it could be a good icebreaker to start with. Y/n by the way"

He wanted to come up with an intelligent remark, ask more about which groups you like it. Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it, your words had surprised him more than you had expected. A whispered "I am Rodrick" and a nod was all you received as an answer. Books were opened, and you decided to start working.

Surprisingly, in the following weeks Rodrick did not only manage to learn more about the subject he was struggling with, but also about you. A strong bond was created with the time. Gifted CDs with songs he thought you would like. Singing 18 by Harbour in the front passenger seat of his van. Shared glances and jokes. Being one of the few people allowed to his band practices and that he really feel comfortable talking to... Beautiful things and memories that only made you closer. Feelings that neither of you was ready to stay out loud until one day he did.

At his house. You were trying to teach him how to do his eyeliner properly, as he still needed more practice. Eyes glued to each others, your hand resting in his face to keep him in place, your focused expression too cute to resist... So he just did it, kissed you out of the blue like his life depended on it. And instead of pushing him away as he had predicted, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Hands tangled in his messy hair. The eyeliner pen long forgotten, and the make-up scattered around his face, but neither of you cared about it.

Yeah, Rodrick Heffley did not expect to fall for you. He did not foresee that you would be the one he introduced to his parents. He did not anticipate that his first official girlfriend would be called a "good influence" by his mother. Neither would he have guessed that he would end up dating the nerdiest and prettiest girl in High School to his eyes. It was astonishing that he actually smiled when you played with Manny and told him tales. And that he was not so annoyed with Greg when you were the one listening to his multiple complaints about High School. He was not prepared to giggle like he was crazy every time "Walking after you" came on the radio, and he daydream of having you on his arms.

And yet, you had a few surprises left for him to find. Late at night, coming home from a small gig his band had had. The house just for the two of you as the rest of his family was visiting his grandfather. He had to deal with a serious "Use protection" coming from his father so they could finally let you stay with him.

A trail of kisses from his lips and cheeks to his neck, too messy and sweet to ever forget them. Muttered "I love you"s. He was playing with the hem of your shirt until you nodded giving him permission to toss it aside. He certainly did contemplated the idea of finding a lacy pinky bra below the leather jacket you had borrowed from him. Furthermore, he wasn't prepared to find it so hot and cute at the same time.

"You know what, pretty girl?" He whispered as he started kissing your collarbone "You were unexpected. But what a wonderful surprise you are"

#rodrick x reader #rodrick x y/n

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slxsherwriter · 8 months

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Hand Picked

Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera

Pairing: Luigi Largo x female reader

Word count: 1,881

Warnings: Cursing, canon typical violence, Luigi being himself, organ repossession

A/N:It had been years since I watched Repo and at the time I had watched it for Anthony Stewart Head. Rewatching it for Bill was an experience. This is a bit of a tease for another fic idea that expands upon the ground work here. I warned you all the Moseley brainrot had set in.

The relative quiet of the office was a stark contrast to the constant noise coming from right outside the building. Then again, in today's day and age, quiet was a rare commodity. The streets were always alive with the noise of the desperate and downtrodden. In most of the city. The few spots where those with wealth resided tended to be a little more quiet. No Zydrate addicts at least.

The quiet was welcomed though, needed even. An opportunity to reset from the long day. Uncommon it was for you to experience the sort of hours that you pulled today and all the trouble that came with it. Ten hours scouring the streets, fighting with those that were terrified at the mere sight of you. Everyone feared the Repo men. Contrary to popular belief, there was more than one of you. With the business that Geneco did and the way that people defaulted on their debts, one man wouldn't cut it. The Largo's would have been out of business a long time ago, despite being one of the only names in the game. The numbers were small, though. And recently, the numbers had gotten even smaller. Down to just two of you now.

Organs already returned to the store rooms, you were simply finishing up a few pieces of paperwork to close the accounts. Dull work really and something that you could have left for someone in a lower position. But, it was those moments that allowed you to calm down from the high of the hunt, recenter yourself back into a controlled semblance of a human being rather than the monster that the public know your masked face to be.

It would be a lie to say that you didn't get some sort of enjoyment out of your job. A fact that you would have ventured to guess when you first started several years ago.

*****************

You didn't come from a family with money, just an incredibly scrappy will to survive in a world where money often meant survival itself. Instead, you had been blessed with intelligence, enough smarts to prove your worth to society and the company that ran the world. Geneco had pegged you for medical school when you were nothing more than a smart mouthed teenager with a problem with authority.

True, your trust in the company had been low. Practically, nonexistent if you were honest. But, it was a chance to get out of the streets, away from the constant fight and scrap. Sure, you knew you were trading one devil for the other, but at least with the opportunity to become a doctor, you may be able to properly make something of yourself. Taking the offer that had been presented on a silver platter, you signed the contract and unknowingly sealed a fate that neither you nor the company could have ever really anticipated.

School had shown your true potential. A skilled, deliberate hand and the ability to not only quickly pick up information but react to it as well had all of the professors singing your praise. Top in the class, across the board. Of course, those at GeneCo were kept aware of the process that you made, like they were each and every student who signed a contract with them. Apparently.it was enough praise that two of the Largo's themselves decided to come and assess your value when you closed in on graduation.

The first time that you met Luigi, you had been standing over a fresh cadaver, ready to give a presentation as part of a final project for one of the last graded classes you were taking. Rotti stood beside him, both in watching you with an intent that bordered on dangerous, making you feel like the piece of meat that was laying on the table before you. But being under pressure had always forced you to perform well. Dissecting away flesh and muscle with ease, you began to show the proper method for organ removal to allow them to potentially be used by the company. Not for resale exactly but for the scientists that were making continued improvements on them. The entire thing took half the time it took several other students once they came up to attempt the process themselves, a fact that you snickered about to yourself.

It was only when you were washing the blood off of your hands that Luigi approached. Rotti had chosen to speak with the attending surgeon who taught the class rather than you right off the bat.

"Not half bad with a blade…" You looked up from the station you were at, a kind smile plastered to your lips. The last thing that you needed to do was piss off the man before you.

"I appreciate the kind words, Mr. Largo." It even sounded level, and you gave yourself a quick mental put on the back for it. The words seemed to amuse him rather than piss him off another win. Up close, you could appreciate the blueness of the man's eyes. They didn't seem unnatural. While GeneCo was very good at what they did, it was going to be your job to know the difference. "You and your family, your company, has been more than generous in putting me through school. The least that I can do is make sure that the debt is repaid in full, to the best of my ability." There seemed to be something else on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak any further, he was called away by his father. The senior Largo didn't approach, seemingly having nothing to say to you at the moment. That suited you fine.

Of course, you had no way of knowing that the wheels had been turning in the man's head after seeing your presentation. Graduation came and went, with another contract signing, this time for employment. Wages were garnished some to make up for what had been paid out to send you to school. That was fine by you since it made life easier. One less thing to worry about. That was how you looked at it. It also brought you back into contact with Luigi. Apparently, he was the one that helped manage accounting and financing.

The Gentern that had been there to help was a bumbling fool of a woman. Clearly new, she couldn't keep her face neutral, nor could she actually do her job as every paper that they had needed wasn't present. When Luigi shoved the knife into her gut and tossed her carelessly to the side. You blinked before pointing down to the body.

"You want me to salvage what I can from that? Before they are no good?" He blinked, seemingly caught off guard by your lack of reaction. It pulled him from the mess of anger that had overtaken him. "I imagine that the intestines are punctured, but the liver, stomach, and obviously any organs in the upper torso would be fine." This was the way of the world. You couldn't afford to blink at death. Especially working for this company and around the family that owned it. All the body was now was a sack of meat with some useful parts.

"Yeah, go take care of that. We will meet in a couple of hours, and I'll have someone less incompetent this time. And we will be negotiating new terms of employment." There was a bit of a growl to the words, showing that the simmering rage was still there. But there was something else in the look. A heat that made a shiver run down your spine. Well, that was interesting. You were wordlessly helped by another Gentern that appeared, giving you time to think over your own reaction. Luigi was a good looking man. There was no denying that. But he couldn't possibly be interested in you. Nol-when he had women hanging off of him all the time, well, mainly the Genterns, but they still counted. Plus, he could really have anyone he wanted.

**** **** ****** ***

The sound of the door to your office slamming open pulled you from the memories. Your start at GeneCo was definitely something unique. No one else had been set on the path that you had but you didn't mind in the least.

"For fuck sakes woman, are you planning on being in this damn office all fucking night?"

"Hello to you too, Luigi," you greeted him, a smile coming to your face and amusement tinging the words. He paused at the edge of the desk before plopping right down on the corner.

"Fifteen repossessions today. Maybe I should piss you off more often. Clearly, it's good for business." There was a playful edge to the words as he looked through the few files that remained on the desk. He would have kept up with your long day, the smug bastard that he was. Probably wanted to see how the argument from that morning affected you. Even through it, you couldn't help but smile, not feeling an ounce of frustration over the reaction. "You ready to go home?" You stretched your legs out under your desk, debating if you were going to try and make him sweat it out a bit. Not that he really worried over much besides acquiring GeneCo.

"Yeah, I am. Are we ordering in tonight?" You pushed up only to have him wrap an arm around your waist and pull you close. Resting against his side, you waited for the next response from the man, unsure where this was leading right then and there. Luigi was unpredictable even to you. Dating for the better part of three years or not, his temper often made him react in unexpected and unanticipated ways. But even outside of anger, he wasn't the easiest to read.

Sure, to some degree, your relationship had curbed some of that volatility. But, Luigi would always have a temper. The outlets that you had come up with only went so far. That didn't count the times that perhaps you encouraged it a little, at the very least agreed with the actions. Sometimes, people made it really easy to remember that most of the population was a bunch of idiots.

Not another word was said as his lips pressed against yours. Ten plus hours was probably the longest time that you had spent apart in recent weeks. As busy as you had been, you would be hard pressed to say he hadn't been on your mind. Add to that the fact that he did often like to watch you work, and today had been a challenge in far more ways than simply a long day.

"Shame you didn't save any of them for a show…" The words came murmured against your lips, his barely parted from yours.

"I guess we'll just have to skip the foreplay tonight then." His hand began to slide downwards sIowly, lips twisting into a far more egear smile. "Or we can head out and see who else may just have defaulted on payments…"

"That's my girl. The rest of that paperwork can be done by some useless fuck we are paying to do some job they likely aren't doing correctly. Can all be handled tomorrow. Let's get the fuck out of here."

#slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #bill moseley #luigi largo #luigi largo x reader #repo! the genetic opera

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cosmikazie · 7 months

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RAINED WORLD RASCALS RELATIONSHIP CHART IS HERE!!!!

<NOTE: SUBJECT TO CHANGE>

Nobody asked for it, but I decided if I wanna get to know the personalities and types of my main AU's scugs better and more properly nail them down, this is a way of doing that!

The Rained World Rascals AU is another one of those ones where all the scugs end up in the same point in the timeline (approx. Surv/Monk's time) and have to work together. Much like those ones, this one has LORE!!! And no shortage of it, despite me still hammering out the details. But I've been working on this for as long as I've been a part of the community, and it makes me happy to finally be able to share this stuff around!

BTW, no line just means that the character isn't known well enough by the other character to constitute an opinion either way.

(I'll elaborate on this a bit more under the cut)

Survivor & Monk

Hunter: They were the first one who the duo properly got to know, and thus became incredibly tight-knit as time went on.

Gourmand: Auncle/parental figure! Back at the big OE tree they watched the siblings grow up, but the Gourmand stuck in the superstructure watershed is much younger and timeline-wise hasn't actually met them yet.

Artificer: Survivor has their disagreements with them, but ultimately respects their rule as a leader. Arti admires Monk, on the other hand, for their innocent youthful attitude towards life. They remind them of two pups who used to be in their life.

Rivulet: (i forgot to draw the line oops) Monk really likes Rivulet's fun-loving attitude towards everything around them, and enjoys playing games with them. They are good friends with Monk.

Saint: Survivor isn't a massive fan of Saint's aloof, uptight and spiritual nature--a fact that Saint is very well aware of--but overall still manages to get along. Meanwhile, Monk spends a lot of time around Saint simply because Saint's got a good listening ear.

ENOT: Neither of the siblings really have any major grievances with ENOT, but Monk is a little bogged down by their tendency to hide behind something when around them.

Hunter

Survivor & Monk: *see above*

Gourmand: They have massive respect for Gourmand for keeping Monk safe while they helped Survivor search for their sibling.

Artificer: Look me in the eyes. No, look me in the eyes right now. You knew this was gonna happen.

Spearmaster: Hunter really likes having spears at the ready whenever they need them, and while they don't approve of Ol' Spearsy's spear-producing methods, you can't fix what ain't broke.

Saint: Hunter cannot stand how "above everything" Saint is. Their cool, calculating, disciplined behavior is no match for a hotheaded, rambunctious action-lover like themselves.

Gourmand

Survivor & Monk: Doesn't actually know the siblings all that well yet, but knows they're supposedly their family members from the future, so will do anything to keep them safe.

Hunter: Has great respect for them guarding and escorting Survivor to help Monk find them.

Artificer & Spearmaster: Sorta like co-workers to both of them, seeing as how the three of them together are the pack leaders. Even in disagreement, they are peaceful and kind to the others.

Saint: Not sure how they became so close, but they're pretty sure a blood pact was formed somewhere along the way.

Artificer

Survivor & Monk: Arti has taken a liking to Monk, as they remind themselves of their own pups from back before... the incident. Survivor on the other hand is a little disobedient and is seen by them as a bit of a troublemaker, but they still make themselves useful, so it's not a big deal.

Hunter: yeah

Gourmand: Gourmand is good at being resourceful and calm, even when the going gets rough. This orange fellow literally has no enemies.

Spearmaster: On the other hand, Arti and Spears have very different ideologies and methods of dealing with problems, especially when it comes to scavengers. For every "if we can be friends, we should be friends" from Spears, there's an "easy for you to say" from Arti.

Rivulet: Arti has no strong opinions on Rivulet, other than that their speed is insanely impressive.

Saint: Arti has ample reason to be terrified of Saint. But they are a great confidant.

Spearmaster

Survivor: Had a short friendship that didn't really end suddenly, but more just... decayed. No reason in particular, just more important stuff came up, I guess.

Hunter: Hunter values their skills and cares about their hobbies and talents. That's enough for them.

Gourmand: Gourm caters to their digestive predisposition by crafting meals of all kinds that let them use their spears to consume them. They're a real ally, that Gourm.

Artificer: Spears can't understand why Arti could ever hate scavengers. They're funny little guys who love to tell tall tales and have plenty of folklore. What even happened between Arti and scavengers, anyways?

Rivulet: Queerplatonic couple. That is all.

ENOT: Constantly being asked how kissing works if you have no mouth tends to wear you down over time.

Rivulet

Survivor & Monk: Rivulet is especially curious as to what it's like to have an older sibling, and figures that even in the scary land of the superstructure watershed, Monk can be as carefree and joyful as they usually are, then Survivor's probably a good sibling. Monk is one of two people in the crew Rivulet feels comfortable being immature around.

Gourmand: Rivulet likes to share seafood cooking insight with Gourmand from time to time.

Artificer: Rivulet doesn't like being ordered around, but likes to be speedy and run around, so it's kind of a double-edged sword.

Spearmaster: Queerplatonic.

Saint: Finds them weird, but is ultimately fine with them as long as they aren't being ominous.

Saint

Survivor & Monk: They don't have much of a connection with Survivor, but Monk reminds them of their childhood--mind you, they can't even remember when they were a pup. That's how much Monk affects them.

Hunter: Hunter is far, FAR too hotheaded for Saint to handle. Too undisciplined, too violent, and too impulsive. They can never get along with each other.

Gourmand: Saint has a pact with Gourmand. If they ever, EVER try to ascend anyone in the pack, Gourmand has the right to remove them from the cycle permanently, by any means necessary.

Spearmaster: Saint shares some sympathy with Spears for being stuck well outside of their temporal extreme of the timeline. They find some solace and peace in knowing they're around.

Rivulet: Just another over-the-top small slugcat to them. It doesn't really bother them, though.

ENOT: ENOT is actually quite interesting to Saint. They're the only other one in the pack who sees the world through a warped lens, albeit a much different one than the one they do.

ENOT

good lord man.

It doesn't really take much of an explanation for this one. ENOT is just a being with the express purpose of... well, they'd like everyone else to think it's just to love. But there's something else going on here. Something mysterious...

On the other hand, we also have...

Monk: Out of all the slugcats, Monk is the only one that actually manages to TERRIFY ENOT. Why, you ask? Well, considering how ENOT sees the world around them as some horribly distorted, half-finished mess, and Monk just happens to be a pup, then...

...yeah.

#rain world #rw au #rain world au #rw survivor #rw monk #rw hunter #rw gourmand #rw artificer #rw spearmaster #rw rivulet #rw saint #rw enot #rw inv #rain world downpour #rw shipping #artihunter #rained world rascals

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river-of-wine · 5 months

Note

Give another Molly O'Shea rant

I gladly will!

It is always very strange to me how mad people seem to be about Molly not seeming to like the rest of the gang. Yes, we as the player like them. We are not in Molly’s position. We are playing the game from the perspective of somebody who is largely liked and respected in the gang and we will experience the gang members as such, and neither of these things apply to Molly. She is in a group of 20+ people, she is in an abusive relationship that everybody is aware of, and no one is on her side. It doesn’t matter how much they dislike her or not, because no one really does like her for whatever manner of reasons that person has, and Molly can certainly feel that. Not only is she in an abusive relationship, she is in an abusive relationship with their leader. That’s not exactly a comforting thought, especially not when everybody can hear you arguing day and night and don’t do a thing.

The gang don’t all hate Molly the way she eventually perceives but when she’s around, the majority of them do not spare a single thought for her, even when she’s right in front of them. When she tries to properly reach out to Arthur, somebody who knows Dutch well and could feasibly help her somehow, even if it’s just easing her worries about Dutch that she never gets to properly voice, she is interrupted in favour of Uncle of all people and swept aside. She will argue with Dutch and sob in the wide open and no one really cares, leaving her alone to cry on the floor.

There are exceptions to this, but it’s very few. Abigail does earnestly try to give Molly advice in chapter 3 when Molly is trying to talk about something we don’t ever get to hear, blunt as it is, and Karen reaches out to her in chapter 4 and defends her when she’s gone. However, these are two people, and though most of the gang are not directly hostile towards Molly she is still drowning in a sea of indifference at best. She’s being abused and everybody knows but nobody with any real power - wether their attempts would have worked or not, which knowing Dutch is incredibly unlikely - does anything to help her or put a stop to what is happening.

This is not me trying to say Molly’s perspective is entirely correct. She becomes more and more paranoid as the game goes along and while some people were talking about her - Karen namely - it certainly isn’t everyone all the time the way she seems to think it is. The gang is not all against Molly, it’s just that most of them don’t care, but that still hurts her deeply. I am also not trying to villainise the entire gang for not dropping everything in exchange for saving Molly from this relationship. That wasn’t going to happen and I didn’t expect it to for a whole variety of reasons. However, Molly’s perspective on the people around her is one that is rarely considered yet important to take into account when it comes to her attitude towards people, her isolation and her worsening mental state in the environment she finds herself in. Yeah I don’t blame her for not liking them

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #molly o'shea #the amount of people who have used her calling the gang parasites and lackeys in her poem as a reason why they hate her is small #but not insignificant #god forbid a woman not like people I suppose #same shit happens with Abigail on a much smaller scale because she doesn’t like her deadbeat bf being a deadbeat. oh nooooooo

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razieltwelve · 6 months

Text

Technicality (Final Rose)

Lightning groaned as Fang shoved her back onto the bed. A fortnight apart due to missions had left neither of them in the mood to wait. Their lips met, and Lightning tasted blood. That was fine. There was a time for making love, and a time for fucking.

And right now, Lightning wanted to be fucked.

Fang pulled away, and Lightning reached up to drag her back into another kiss. The dark-haired woman put one hand on her chest and shoved her back, so she could grab Lightning shirt properly and pull.

The garment ripped with hardly a moment of resistance, and Lightning experienced a momentary flash of sanity. That shirt had been made of the finest combat fabrics available. It was stab-proof, projectile resistant, and largely impervious to any form of chemical attack. It was also Aura sensitive, which meant that channeling enough Aura through it would render it capable of withstanding heavy weaponry, up to and including artillery.

In other words, it was exorbitantly expensive.

Lightning couldn't bring herself to care. Who gave a shit about a shirt when Fang was looking at her like that? Besides, she could always use Saviour later to fix it. What was the point of having one of the most stupidly overpowered Semblances in the world if she couldn't indulge now and then?

Lightning's bra soon followed, and it wasn't long before the rest of her clothing was in tatters on the floor too. Fang had always had a penchant for destroying her clothing, not that Lightning minded. As easy-going as Fang could seem, she was every bit as possessive as Lightning was.

Eyes practically glowing, Fang used strips of Lightning's ruined clothing to tie her hands above her head. The makeshift bonds wouldn't do a damn thing if Lightning actually wanted to get free, but there was something incredibly alluring about putting herself at Fang's mercy even if her helplessness was completely illusory.

"Do you remember what we said to each other when we first met?" Fang growled. She was in constant motion now, touching and tasting with almost manic hunger.

Lightning's back arched, and she lifted her hips to give Fang better access. "You need to stop talking," she said. Her vision blurred for a moment as Fang settled between her thighs and found that perfect spot...

In the depths of her mind, Saviour asked her if she wanted to suppress all emotional and physical stimuli. Her Semblance wasn't serious. Saviour knew exactly what they were doing and how much Lightning had been looking forward to it, but her Semblance just couldn't resist the urge to troll her.

Lightning made a mental note to berate her Semblance later before shoving the thought away. No suppression of any kind. She wanted to feel everything. Her vision was already beginning to tunnel as two weeks of Fang-related withdrawal was swept aside in a haze of pleasure so heady it was a miracle she could think at all.

And then Fang did that, and Lightning came undone.

She might have cried out. No. She did cry out.

Thank Dust she and Fang had both had the foresight to layer the room in privacy measures.

It went on and on, and Lightning was vaguely aware of Fang's low rumble of amusement. Let Fang be amused. Lightning was having the time of her life. She rode out her climax with hardly a care in the world, even as Saviour noted, with no small measure of amusement, that the force she was exerting with her legs would have killed just about anyone who wasn't Fang.

Eventually, Lightning's body went limp.

She opened her eyes. When had she even closed them? And found herself staring up at the ceiling. A second later, familiar green eyes filled with mirth appeared above her.

"So..." Fang drawled, licking her lips. "How'd I do?"

"Idiot." Lightning gave her a half-hearted punch. "I give you a one."

"A one?" Fang snorted inelegantly.

"Yes, a one. Do that again, and I'll upgrade it to a two."

"Ah." Fang rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "So I have to screw your brains out another nine more times, huh?"

"At least." Lightning wiggled her arms, and Fang rolled her eyes before untying the tattered clothing. "Thank you."

"As if you couldn't break free yourself."

"That's not the point." Lightning sighed contentedly as Fang wrapped her arms around her. They weren't close to done, but some of the manic edge had been taken off their desire. "I'm your wife. You need to pamper me."

"I could say the same," Fang replied.

Lightning stretched, loving the way her body felt against Fang's. "About what you said earlier... if I recall correctly, you called me a frigid bitch when we first met."

Fang's eyes twinkled. "And you called me a stupid asshole."

"And here we are." Lightning's lips twitched. "Still think I'm frigid?"

"Well..." Fang grinned as Lightning bonked her over the head. "Still think I'm stupid?"

"Well..." Lightning laughed as Fang rolled on top of her.

"So..." Fang looked down at Lightning.

"So...?"

Fang smirked. "Ready to go again?"

X X X

Author's Notes

The Lightning-Fang betting pool that started shortly after Team LFSC formed resulted in one of the biggest payouts of Vanille's life. Nobody else thought it could happen, and neither did Vanilla. But she mis-clicked while placing another bet and decided to just leave it because she found the idea of Lightning and Fang getting together funny since they spent most of their time trying to murder each other. Lucky Fox once again came through for her.

If you're wondering where the kids are, Serah invited them next door, so they could play with Claire for a few days. Little sister with the clutch manoeuvre.

A few days.

Yeah.

#final rose #fanfiction #lightning farron #oerba yun fang

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marcholasmoth · 1 month

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OSRR: 3513

went to the doctor. she gave me antibiotics and told me to start taking the inhaler again.

rad.

got some advice and creative support on the quilt for my friend, which was really nice! my mom's been incredibly unhelpful saying how she would do it instead of accepting that this was going to happen how i wanted it to happen.

i had gotten so discouraged last night about the fabrics mom was pulling out and i hated how it looked and she was pushing me to use different fabrics and use a different design because she wasn't being helpful with what i wanted. but the people at the quilt store were so supportive in helping me realize the vision i had - WITH the original pattern i created, so i'm more than happy about that.

i'm super excited to sew it all together tomorrow. then i'll need a backing and a binding and batting and figure out how to fasten it together. and part of me wants to put lace in the edge because my favorite blankie as a little kid had lace in it. i liked it so much because it was soft and yellow and had lace. i still like it so much because of the same reasons. so i'll work with the colors and see if i can find a cotton lace for it. if i can, that is. if not, that's okay. i'll make something else with lace.

maybe a different quilt for a different friend's baby!

i am ambitious. for the other baby i'll probably do more traditional baby-esque fabrics. they'll be appreciative of it, i'm sure. i'll have to wash it before i give it to them, though, unless i just bring it straight to them from a quilter. that friend is allergic to cats, very much so, so having several cats around the fabric isn't exactly the best idea. i'll probably wash and dry the fabrics before i make it, if im totally honest. make sure when it does get washed it doesn't lose its shape.

count me in for making dozens of blankets for these two little babies i know who have the same first name.

i'm so happy.

i love making things. i'll make a crocheted one next, i think! since flannel is for the fall/winter.

anyway. i took a nap today after angrily washing pots for dinner. i didn't feel good and i was upset that the dishes hadn't been done - again - and so impeded my ability to make dinner.

which, for dinner, i made steak. and i fuckin KILLED it. not the cow, the cooking. first time to cook steak, did a great job. flavorful, properly cooked, cut like butter. moist inside despite being well-done. (while i am aware this is a culinary abomination, neither my sister or i can eat meat that is raw in any way. it makes us violently ill so we just. don't do that.)

but the nap and the steak occurred before the quilt cutting and pinning. the quilt is all ready to go for tomorrow. i'm hype.

also i am not going in to work tomorrow. the doctor told me to take it easy tomorrow while the antibiotic works into my system.

and because i'll be home it means i can actually get to joel's for game on time tomorrow night! that'll be nice.

and in the meantime, i have heartburn so i am gonna take some tums and try to sleep.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #3000s #3500s #sunshine boy

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miscsinners · 1 year

Note

I guess the princess and her knight can't defeat Ganondorf even working together~ It's good that he knows what to do with slutty elves like them~ He'll fuck Zelda and Link until both of them submit to their new king like proper sluts~

"Oh no, you defeated us~... What are you going to do~?"

Even working together, neither Zelda nor Link were able to defeat Ganondorf in a direct confrontation. But rather than seem scared for her life, Zelda's attention has already shifted to the pillar of meat that's being presented to them both. Although he doesn't say anything, judging by where Link is staring it's obvious what he's thinking about as well.

With this powerful cock all but ordering them to worship the man who defeated them, neither of the two have the will or strength to resist. Pathetically, the hero of time and the princess of Hyrule are using their mouths to worship Ganondorf's enormous, incredibly strong cock, not putting up any resistance while they mindlessly devote their mouths to him.

The two of them are equally matched in their skills of cock worship, but they're well aware that their new owner will reward whichever Hylian slut does a better job by letting them be the first to get slammed full of his cock and properly broken into cock-enslaved whores. He doesn't even need to say or do anything, the two of them are competing with each other and fervently pleasuring the massive monstrous cock that makes both their brains turn to mush just from the taste. Neither of them deserve their titles; they're both cock addicted sluts who couldn't even resist becoming their sworn enemy's cockslaves, let alone defeat him.

#ask #loz;; zelda #loz;; link #loz;; ganondorf

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fancytrinkets · 5 months

Text

Bits & Pieces

Little ficlets, set before Dreadwolf, in which former Inquisitor Trevelyan is now living in Minrathous with Dorian. (The ficlet below continues a subplot where Trevelyan's ex-boyfriend Marcus from the Ostwick Circle, formerly Tranquil and now unexpectedly cured, has been staying with them as he recovers.) Link to the full collection of Dorian/Inquisitor ficlets.

The guest room where Marcus slept had been transformed. Plants spilled their greenery over every surface. The floor was covered by pots and planters. As if that weren't enough, so were the dressers, the corner shelves, and the chair by the window.

"A bit excessive, in my opinion."

That had been Dorian's only comment thus far. The plants were too much, but he hadn't made an issue of it. Of late, he had neither the time nor the stamina to spare for domestic squabbles. For weeks he'd been overly preoccupied by his work in the senate. Of course, it didn't help that nearly two months had gone by and he still wasn't sure how to properly relate to Marcus, the uninvited interloper in his household. So he left the burgeoning matter of indoor flora entirely to his husband.

Galen seemed to think it was a good idea — an aid to recovery, he called it, and promised it would hasten the eventual departure of their convalescent guest. Dorian remained unconvinced, and this evening he could take no more of it.

"That man is broken. He needs some other sort of arrangement than whatever this is."

"Probably," Galen agreed, "but I'm not turning him out and neither are you."

He summoned his best Inquisitorial voice to make that point clear. And while that was incredibly infuriating, it was also ridiculously arousing — and so the argument was set aside, abandoned in favor of more pleasurable activities between the two of them. Lying in bed afterwards — with all the worst of his annoyance and tension having been siphoned off and swallowed down by his husband — Dorian felt relaxed enough to offer a piece of unsolicited advice.

"His appetite is better than it was. He almost looks properly fed. We ought to consider that his libido will return — if it hasn't already. He'll need companionship."

"Companionship?" Galen sounded shocked to hear it.

"Don't you think so?"

"I'm not going to drop him off at a brothel, Dorian. If that's what you're suggesting."

A brothel wasn't at all what Dorian had in mind. "Why not host a small dinner party?" he asked. "We'll introduce him to a few of our finest friends and associates." Mostly, he was curious to see if Marcus and Rilienus might find each other interesting. It would make such a good story if they did hit it off.

But Galen wasn't ready to hear it.

"Broken," he said, sounding both annoyed and accusatory. "That's what you just called him. And now you think he's ready for entertaining at dinner and welcoming gentlemen back to his room?"

"Well, sex always helped me sort things out when I was a broken mess."

Galen sighed. "I think the plants are helping. That's always been his area of expertise."

"Perhaps you don't want him to find other men." It was simply an observation. Dorian was trying to be helpful here. Nothing more.

"Perhaps you want to hurry him along in this regard," Galen said. "For some unexamined emotional reason of your own."

Dorian rolled his eyes. He was well aware of his own jealousy. It wasn't entirely unexamined. "He's fixated on you." Dorian pointed it out in a reasonable and helpful fashion.

"From twenty years ago!" Galen objected. "I'm not that person now and we all know it. The only thing he feels when he looks at me now is rage."

"Galen." Dorian chuckled, genuinely amused by that assertion. "I don't think so."

"Really?"

"You don't see it?" How could he not see it? How could he possibly miss the way Marcus looked at him sometimes — with trembling lips and eyes full of uncontained longing.

"No, I mean–" Galen sighed in frustration. "Yes, all right then. We can introduce him to some friends of ours. Gently though. Not all at once. He'll find it overwhelming."

That was not the response that Dorian had expected. More defensiveness, perhaps? More strident objections? Yes, in fact, he'd been bracing himself for a flurry of those.

"You honestly don't want him anymore, do you?" Dorian asked.

And that was a strange question to consider. To accompany it, he felt a twinge of some unpleasant emotion. He'd first thought it to be jealousy, but maybe it wasn't. Perhaps it was something more akin to disappointment. But why would that be? Dorian tried to puzzle it out, but the answer wouldn't come. All he could do was repeat himself, his voice sounding flat and dull even to his own ears.

"You don't want him."

"Honestly?" Galen propped himself up on his scarred left elbow, lifting his head from the pillow to gain the higher ground. "You want to have this conversation now? We can wait, if you like. Maybe when things are less stressful with the Magisterium–"

"A glorious day that will never happen," Dorian said. "Best get it over with now."

"Right then." Galen paused, brow furrowing, as if it took him a visible effort gather his thoughts.

Their discarded clothing was scattered across the bedroom floor. Dorian wanted to sort it all neatly, to fold it, and put it away. Wait, he wanted to say, don't tell me. You're right that I'd rather not know. But his own curiosity kept him rooted in place.

"Here's how it is," Galen said. "I can feel it here." He touched his chest. "Little sparks of attraction sometimes. And I've thought about sex — a mental image here and there during lessons. But that's it. There's no version of him that's matured for twenty years along with me — emotionally speaking, of course. There's nothing we could bring to each other now that wouldn't be fraught and painful."

Dorian frowned to hear it. A mix of jealousy and disappointment churned within him.

"If it were me," Dorian said, "I'd want you to risk everything to win me back."

Galen nodded.

"If it were you, I would."

Stunned speechless, Dorian couldn't tell if his confession was something to welcome, or else condemn as hypocritical. Lacking a clear sense of what to do with it, he opted for a clarifying question.

"Oh?" he asked. "And where's the difference?"

"The difference," Galen said, "is that you wouldn't have left me the same way he did."

Dorian sighed. The jealousy slipped from his grasp like a bottle he'd grabbed with spilled oil on his fingers. "You're right about that. I would have fought against Tranquility with all the strength I had."

"I know it," Galen said. "And I know it's not Marcus's fault that he didn't. But it changed me."

"I understand it."

Dorian could feel himself relaxing. He'd had a long day, after all. Another exhausting day of politics would rear its ugly head tomorrow, but for now, he could rest, reassured by the comforting presence of his husband beside him.

But then, he remembered the guest room, overwhelmed by a chaotic mess of plantlife — a trivial remedy that wasn't doing nearly enough to soothe the room's sullen occupant.

"Maybe not a dinner party yet," he said. "But at least he ought to meet Rilienus."

#dragon age inquisition #inquisitor trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian pavus #ostwick circle #dragon age tranquility #custom inquisitor #mage inquisitor #pre dread wolf #post trespasser

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dainty-baneberry · 1 year

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24. Vicissitudes

“Well met my friend, I thank thee for…hastening to mine side so promptly.” Dainty heard the catch in Urianger’s voice that he tried to suppress and gave the tiniest of a smirk. She knew exactly what had occasioned his normally smoothe, fluid voice to fail him. She had not worn her hair curly in years, normally brutally taming the riot of naturally occuring corkscrew curls with a variety of expensive potions. The last time he would have seen her curls was shortly before her triumph over the Primal Ifrit. She had awoken in his bed after a rather ill advised bottle of entirely too potent brandy and attempting to soothe an insecurity stricken mind with sex when the alcohol failed to soothe her nerves. Neither had ever spoken of it again, agreeing that having emotional ties to each other would not be a boon to their work as Scions of the Seventh Dawn. But Urianger had enjoyed being forgiven certain untruths that would have earned other Scions a nasty grudge. And Dainty had occasionally enjoyed walking past the handsome Elezen man in less clothing than she ought solely for the way pale gray gaze would linger on her before darting away. “A message were mentioned?” Dainty drawled. “Aye. Thancred did wish me to convey just so. Firstly, that he regrets that a third, thineselve, hath been involved in what he suspected thou did wish to keep concealed. Secondly, his undertaking produced naught of value until very recently. His luck experienced many vicissitudes upon a chance meeting a retired Geiko. He feareth t’will take an extended sojourn to properly charm the required information from her. He wished me to impress upon thee that his lingering abroad indicate only the gravity with which he hath taken thine task to heart.” Dainty gave an indelicate snort, and shook her head, the riot of curls bouncing around her pretty delicate features; “I’m impressed you managed that with a straight face.” “I know not of what thou speaketh.” Urianger replied with dignity. As if they weren’t both entirely aware that this retired Geiko was likely incredibly beautiful and it was wholly debatable whether Thancred needed or wanted to charm any and all information she may or may not hold from between her likely ruby red lips. “Sure.” Dainty scoffed but there was no maliciousness in her voice. “Thank you, for the message. Let me know if you hear anything else.” “Of course.” She turned to leave, glancing back behind her for just half an ilm to see if Urianger would call her back but he made no move to do so. Even to this day, no matter what pangs he may occasionally hold, he yet agreed that anything between them was pure folly.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2022 #writeseptember #late oh so late #oh so very late #doing it anyway #still trying my best

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time-is-an-allusion · 2 years

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Okay so this is the story of how Ford and I met. It's super long and detailed! Cw for addiction/substance abuse (pills and alcohol), suicide, and self-harm (and a masochism mention).

The year was 2017. I had more or less gotten over the suicide of Sebastian, my alcoholic friend whose existence had fascinated me for the 6 years I'd gotten to know him. Unfortunately, I'd also developed a nasty polysubstance addiction, with Benadryl (or diphenhydramine, or DPH) being my drug of choice. 2017 was right in the middle of the four years I spent on that drug.

Ford found me first. He was looking for Withnail and I-related material and of course he found some of my old posts And //then// when he saw that I posted about Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (a shared interest), addiction (a shared affliction), and DPH (a substance he was considering fucking around with), he followed me. And //then// he found my music and art, which he thought was Really Good, and I quickly found his writing (he writes sci-fi stories, which I didn't know at the time were fictionalized accounts of his own adventures) and formed the same opinion of it. And we were both INCREDIBLY open about our addictions, like...open to an extent that made most people uncomfortable and understandably so but that, in a situation where two such people meet each other, meant that we could talk to each other about Everything in a way that I couldn't with anyone else I knew.

So we spent 2017-2018 messaging frequently. It was not immediate love, but it was immediate mutual fascination. We were also both Really Worried About Each Other, because yknow he's a pretty severe alcoholic himself. Not to mention we both have self-harm problems. I didn't have to worry for him in the same way I had to worry about Sebastian (i.e. to the point where it frequently traumatized me), but there was a lot of "hey are you okay" messages between us.

Around late 2018 was when I started going to concerts, partly out of a sense of "fuck it I'm bored and I want to have interesting experiences" (a sentiment that drives a lot of Ford's behavior, too), partly because Ford mentioned that he went to concerts for the exact same reason, even when he didn't like the music very much. He mentioned that he liked getting dragged into the mosh pit. He liked the pain.

Also in case anyone's curious of when we first became aware of each other's interest in kink: we were aware to an extent of each other's masochism before ever properly talking about kink. (In case you're curious how you can talk about masochism without kink - we talked about it more as just a quirk of how we're wired that we find pain pleasurable). He found out I was a masochist because I talked about it very openly on Tumblr, especially when I talked about Hellraiser, which was one of my hyperfixations. I found out he was a masochist when he mentioned enjoying the pain from getting pushed around in the mosh pit. And by "found out", I mean I asked him if he was a masochist and he said yes. And we were both kinda like "hey same hat!" about it and didn't talk about it any further.

But anyway, a thing about the two of us: we NEVER thought to ask each other where we lived. Neither of us had it as publicly-available info on our blogs, and we just. never mentioned it. I had no idea what fucking time zone he was in because his sleep schedule was really fucked and he'd mention having "just woken up" at a wide variety of times. So I didn't know that, when he was going to hardcore shows, he was going to the same hardcore shows as //me//.

This changed at a show in late 2018. A bunch of local metal bands were playing, including a blackgaze group (this genre being black metal crossed with shoegaze, so yknow not something you get to see very often). In-between band's sets, I had gone to the smoking patio and consumed several DPH pills in front of a group of metalheads to get a shock reaction from them (which I did) and was waiting for them to take hold.

I went back in where the next band was going to play, and I see a rather short, rather thin red-haired guy - I presume he's a guy but I get the sense that I should ask about that - dressed completely inappropriately for the occasion. Everyone's wearing battle jackets and ripped denim and leather and he's wearing...fuck, what was he wearing? I want to say it was a blue-red-yellow striped blazer with an argyle sweater under it and a floral shirt under //that// and like. Magenta corduroy pants or something. And a scarf. This fucker was wearing a //scarf// at a metal show. Firstly, I don't know how he doesn't overheat, secondly, how does this not get him dragged into The Pit when he least suspects it? (I later ask him about this and he says: "Firstly, I was thin enough at the time where I was always cold anyway, and secondly, it did, in fact, do exactly that, and that's part of why I wore it.")

I'm about to say something to him but he starts things off by saying, "Nice Chomsky reference." He is referring to my handmade patch that says "Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously", a sentence created by linguist Noam Chomsky. "I've got a friend who made a similar patch for themself," he goes on.

THEN he notices all the synthwave on my jacket and I say, "Thanks, it seems like the only person around my age who likes Depeche Mode as much as I do is my internet friend Ford."

Two things happen at once.

One, we both realize who we're talking to.

Two, the drugs begin to take hold.

The world goes sideways for me at the worst possible time and after trying to react appropriately to seeing this person I've been talking to most days for the past year or so for the first time ever, we both become aware of what a Terrible time I'm having and Ford, who's drunk as fuck as a matter of habit but not actually having a bad time and is thus in a position to sort of Take Care Of Me, takes it upon himself to do so and makes sure I'm safe for the rest of the show. I make sure to get us a spot right at the front, far away from anyplace he could get dragged into the mosh pit.

Ford remembers none of this. He was, after all, very drunk.

He didn't even originally know this //happened// until we were talking years after the fact about "the first time we met". //He// thought the first time we met in person was at a different show at a different venue that we'd decided to meet up at. I hadn't really said anything about our first meeting afterwards, and when I started making plans to meet up with him at other shows, he just kind of assumed that we'd had a conversation in which we'd found out we lived in the same general area, it was just another case of alcoholic amnesia.

The second time we met (and the first time he remembers) wasn't very eventful, honestly. It was a music festival with a bunch of random bands playing - a weird mix of hardcore and indie. When a guitarist sliced his finger open on a guitar string by accident at the end of his band's set, I lent him the little towel I always carried around with me as per Ford's suggestion. (A towel is the most massively useful thing an intergalactic hitchhiker can have with them, yes this is a thing from the book.) Ford was proud of me for that.

He was drunk this time too and I was a LITTLE high but neither of us devastatingly so, and we started out by actually paying attention to the bands, but we found out that hanging out in-between the stages where the bands were playing and just talking together was much more fun. I brought the zines I made at the time and showed them to him. We just. hung out. like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we'd known each other for much longer than we really had.

But yeah, there are sort of three stories about "the first time Ford and I met", but those are all three of them.

#txt #self ship au #addiction /#suicide /#self harm /#also the friend sebastian was completely real

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pantoneyoongi · 2 years

Text

i promised i would never let me hurt anymore

title ; i promised i would never let me hurt anymore for you to be you to me, feels new to me

notes ;

part of the till the night is over drabble series. drabbles are not released in chronological order, but the masterlist is set up as chronologically as possible. :)

title is from alessia cara’s “i’m yours”

word count ; 2.4k

tags ; nothing really, just sweetheart tae, pls go to masterlist for more / general tags

kissing taehyung should have been a mistake. you should apologize for it because you know you haven’t cleanly cut off your feelings for jungkook just yet, and it feels incredibly selfish of you to kiss taehyung when you’re aware of this.

it doesn’t stop the giddy feeling in your chest every time you think about it, though.

your mind replays it on a loop. the soft press of his lips against yours, the way he waited for your go-ahead, even when you could tell how badly he wanted it - how badly he’s been wanting it, for so long. your lips still tingle from the memory, cheeks heating when you recall the way he’d pulled you to him at that party, how slowly he went just for you, knowing you were new to all of this. he didn’t push you for anything you weren’t - couldn’t - give. just looked at you with that grin that had somehow become such a familiar thing to you.

it’s butterflies, that flutter around your stomach when you think of him. you can recognize it now. you’re not sure when exactly fear gave way to hope, but you do know it has everything to do with taehyung. there’s no use in ignoring the flutters anymore, the way you look forward to seeing him, the way you search for his fluffy head of hair in every crowd. he’s warmth and silly playfulness and sweet words and real promises cradling your heart, finding a way to sneak past all your defenses to settle in and make a home out of you.

but you know. you know that you can’t start anything genuine with taehyung until you properly close the chapter on your feelings for jungkook. and that means tying up all your loose ends - doing the very thing you’ve been avoiding since you were fourteen.

“so…”

the girls lift their heads up from whatever each of them were doing. the five of you - yerin, jihyo, sana, jeongyeon, and yourself - had a rare day where all your schedules aligned, choosing to rest comfortably in sana and jeongyeon’s shared dorm room. they all put their attention on you, as you lay with your hands on your stomach, staring at the ceiling, twiddling your thumbs.

“um, taehyung and i kissed.”

there’s silence for a moment. the kind of silence that is both so loud and so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

then it descends into absolute chaos.

“WHAT?”

“WHEN?”

“OH MY GOD?”

“if you’re joking, bitch, i swear to god-”

the girls hop up from whatever position they were in throughout the room - off chairs and beds to surround you on the floor, jeongyeon excitedly hitting you with a pillow while you half-laugh, half-shriek at the assault, too breathless to even explain from the way they pester you. when all of them have calmed down a little and you can breathe again, now sitting cross-legged with the rest of them, you tell them about it.

you tell them about the party taehyung had (yet again) managed to convince you to go to, but neither of you even mingled, hardly speaking to other people, instead sticking close to each other. you tell them how taehyung twirled you in circles on the dance floor, how stupidly happy it made you for no reason at all, laughing as he danced with you. how taehyung didn’t even drink this time, drunk only on the loud music and buzzing energy, as you somehow found yourself pressed against the wall as he asked for your permission to kiss you. and how you caved, because it’s taehyung.

“i think…” somehow it’s less scary to say it out loud in front of your friends than it is to taehyung. it feels safer. “i think i actually like him.”

it sets off another round of squeals and laughter, and you have to catch your breath. “wait, wait. no, wait,” you laugh. “wait, i have something important to say, stop making me laugh.”

there’s snickers and chuckles but they quiet obediently.

“taehyung’s…” you mull over it, trying to settle on the right word. “he’s different. he’s just…” you hesitate. “he’s so different from jungkook, that’s kind of the only way i know how to say it. i mean that’s all i have as a reference, but it’s - it’s like it’s not even comparable. you know?”

you don’t know why you feel tears welling in your eyes, but you blink them back down. jeongyeon rubs your arm comfortingly, encouraging you to continue.

“but the fact of the matter is that i’ve…” you swallow. you rarely say it out loud, if ever. you know it’s true, can say it to yourself in your head, but you’ve always made a point not to let it escape past your lips, because it leaves a cut in you every time you let your mouth form the words. “i’ve been in love with jungkook for so long.”

you stare down at your lap, fingers from one hand pulling at the other. your nervous habit. “i think i need to tell him,” your voice shakes but you push forward. “jungkook, i mean. i think i’ve always known it but it was just so scary to think about. i was just so afraid of losing him if he found out how i felt. but i have to,” you lift your eyes. “i have to tell him everything, eventually.”

“it’s closure,” jihyo affirms. one corner of her lips rises upwards. “i think it would be good for you, y/n.”

sana wraps you in a hug when you tremble a little, pulling you close to her. “we’re proud of you, y/n. i’m so glad you found taehyung, that you found someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

you smile weakly. your heart still hurts when you think of jungkook. the thought of telling him you love him - that you’re in love with him, because you are, you still are, even if you’re slowly letting yourself open up to taehyung - all of it is terrifying. falling out of love with jungkook is one thing, but the thought that this could irreversibly change your friendship - possibly even shatter it - scares you on a level you don’t think you’re capable of voicing aloud. it’s not something you know how to explain.

but you take a breath, and promise yourself. this time you won’t run away. you won’t lie to yourself, can’t let your feelings quietly fade into the background anymore. you need to tell jungkook. no matter what it costs you. and -

“i think i need to talk to tae, too,” you glance up when you feel yerin gently take one of your hands, keeping you from digging your nails into your skin. yerin holds one hand while jihyo holds another, grounding you. you smile at them. “i think he deserves to know that i’m not ready yet. i still need to get over jungkook. and maybe if i’m lucky, he’ll wait for me, but… he has the right to know where i’m really at.”

“that’s fair, y/n,” jihyo says gently. “we’ll be here for whatever happens, whether it’s jungkook or taehyung or anything. you know that right?”

you smile. your feelings are a complication you’ve avoided for years, burying them in an attempt to be strong, stand tall. but when your friends pile you into a hug, a few tears slipping out (which makes sana bawl even when she’s punching you in the shoulder and telling you taehyung better wait for you or she’ll have some choice words for him) and you feel like your world is settling in place for you, balancing on an axis that feels manageable. no longer constantly tilted with you struggling to keep everything from slipping away.

all of the conversations you need to have are scary. unpredictable. but whatever the case, you know you can at least come home to your friends.

taehyung waves at you with eyes so bright you almost turn around and go right back out the door of the boba shop. your heart is racing in your chest just thinking of him, but when he looks at you like that, all your thoughts fly right out of your head.

you make your way to him, wincing at the loud screech the chair makes when you pull it out to sit down. taehyung slides a cup to you, having already ordered. “boba for the princess,” he beams.

“what happened to sailor?” you quip back, wrapping your hands around the cup in case he plans on stealing it back. taehyung paid for it but he also handed it to you, so it’s yours now. no take backs.

he smirks, noticing the protective way you pull the cup towards you. “it’s yours, whether or not you let me call you princess,” he reassures teasingly, and you bite the straw to avoid responding. he chuckles. “no particular reason for this one, though,” he runs his eyes over your features adoringly. “just like calling you princess. think it’s fitting, since you’re so pretty. don’t you?”

taehyung’s always been a little flirty, but ever since he kissed you, he’s cranked it up to a hundred. the messages in your phone that left you flustered and (not that you’d ever admit it) giggly are written evidence of that.

“shut up,” you mutter, snagging his drink from him and taking a sip. it’s taro flavored, today. taehyung always rotates through different drinks. taehyung’s lips press together in amusement at your petulance.

“you said you wanted to talk?” he asks, and you’re afraid to look up, look into eyes that you know have their full concentration on you, soft and patient, always, for you. you pretend to take your time sipping your drink, teeth sinking into tapioca. you can tell he senses the change, but he doesn’t say anything, letting you take your time.

with a breath, you force yourself to look up. as expected, taehyung’s blinks back at you, head tilted charmingly with a soft smile. your heart aches for how handsome he is.

you open your mouth to speak but nothing seems to come out. you huff, frustrated with yourself. “i’m sorry,” you mutter, ducking your head. “this is really hard for me.”

taehyung reaches for you, fingers brushing against your cheek. he touches you so carefully, hand moving slowly to tuck your hair behind your ear. despite the way he touches you, still, he says, “then say it to me like i’m any other friend.”

“but you’re not,” the words spill out by accident, but they propel you forward. “you’re not like any other friend, tae.”

one hand comes up to grasp his before he can pull away properly. “friends don’t do this,” you’re finally able to meet his eyes. “i wanted to believe they do because that’s how jungkook has always treated me but if i’m being honest it’s a part of how i ended up falling for him. because friends don’t touch each other like this. don’t look at each other the way you’re looking at me right now. isn’t everything we’ve done, everything you’re doing right now, isn’t all of that a testament to how friends don’t - don’t do shit like this?”

you don’t feel like you speak with any sort of grace. it’s a little more like desperation, frustration. you don’t want to treat taehyung like friends because he’s not. he’s more. you’re tired of pretending that being treated the way jungkook treated you, the way taehyung treats you, that it’s friendship. it’s not.

taehyung looks surprised but also a little flattered, which confuses you. “you’re saying we’re more than friends?”

“taehyung!” you scold, because he’s grinning from ear to ear, clearly pleased. you stutter nonsense before managing to say, “we kissed, taehyung, for god’s sake-”

he laughs wholeheartedly, shifting his hand to tangle properly with yours. “sorry, i’m sorry,” he bites his lip. “i’m just teasing. i’m sorry. it just makes me happy when you say it out loud.” he squeezes your hand. “i just wanted you to relax. we can be more than friends and still be friends, like we always are, sailor.”

you purse your lips, but you know he’s right, and whatever he did, it worked, because you do feel more relaxed. taehyung always makes it easy for you to be around him.

“tell me what you wanted to say,” he encourages, lowering your hands to rest on the table, though still held together.

your shoulders lower. you take a steady breath. “i wanted to say… well, i guess it’s more of a request,” you bite your cheek. “you know how i feel about jungkook.”

he nods.

“i want… to move on.”

something in taehyung’s expression flickers. it makes you braver. “so i’m… going to confess. to him, i mean. because i don’t think that i can move on if i don’t at least tell him once.”

subconsciously, your hand grips taehyung’s tighter. “so if you could just give me some time…”

“as much as you need.”

the promise comes quickly and easily from taehyung, and you swallow hard. he’s serious, lips set firmly together, but when he sees your nerves he smiles at you. “anything you need, princess.”

you try to laugh but it comes out more like a relieved sigh. “you know that it’s - you’re not -” you’re struggling to find your words. but you need him to know that you’re serious, too. “you’re not a rebound.”

he chuckles. “what was it you said earlier? friends don’t look at each other the way you’re looking at me right now?”

you blush furiously in spite of yourself, moving to yank your hand back but he holds on, even pulling your arm across the table to cradle against his cheek. “you’re more obvious than you think, princess.” it’s hard to look away when he’s looking at you like that. “more sincere than you think, too.”

your heart thrums pleasantly in your chest, a kind of race that you never thought could feel the way that it does, a mixture of excitement and mellow contentment. you know taehyung’s too good for you, yet somehow, he’s never made you feel like you weren’t good enough for him.

it leaves you with a determination that you’ve never felt before, to for once put jungkook firmly in your past, so you can finally look at taehyung and say it aloud, without trembling, and watch those coffee brown eyes illuminate with happiness.

i like you.

other drabbles in the series: can’t call you mine || let me love you

series masterlist: till the night is over

taglist: @mwitsmejk @doublejeon @landl7xoxo

#taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung #kim taehyung #series: ttno #fluff #does this count as fluff? i think so? LOL

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ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Dimensional Displacement [FFN | AO3]: Danny has a love-hate relationship with the Fenton Booo-merang. This time, it didn’t do him any favours. This time, it knocked him through a portal—and from what he can glean from the Water Tribe siblings he meets, odds are, there’s a reason for that.

-|-

For @geronimo-alonzi as a thank you for donating to my ko-fi. (Yes, they won my fic giveaway, but I finished this one first.) Loosely based on this three sentence fic.

-|-

Danny had been clobbered in the head by the Fenton Booo-merang more often than he’d like to admit, let alone count, but this was the first time it had knocked him through a portal.

That wouldn’t have been a particularly bad thing if the portal hadn’t immediately closed behind him.

One minute, he’d been minding his own business in the Ghost Zone, coming back from a visit with Frostbite that Jazz must have forgotten about if she’d sent the Booo-merang after him. (Sam was stuck with her parents at some fancy dinner party thing somewhere and Tucker was working on designing a computer game for his comp sci assignment, a class neither Sam nor Danny was in, so it had to have been Jazz.)

The next minute, Danny was…. He didn’t even know where he was. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He’d caught the Booo-merang before either he or it had hit the ground, but once he’d righted himself to look around, there was no familiar skyline or something equally useful to him. There were only trees and rocks and dirt roads as far as the eye could see, even from a considerable distance up in the air.

Well.

That wasn’t quite fair. He could see a silver river cutting through the trees in a path roughly parallel to the road, but in terms of helpful things, he was coming up empty.

He didn’t even know which direction he’d need to fly to get to a city. It was too light out to see any distant glow of city lights against the scattered clouds, and all he could smell when he breathed in was fresh air and pine needles and something else—moss? The general mix that was pretty much mulch on the forest floor?—that was decidedly natural, not the signs of human activity he’d been hoping for. Sure, following the road or even the river would get him somewhere sooner or later, but what was he supposed to do, pick a random direction or go eenie meenie minie moe?

Danny did another loop above the trees, looking for some sign of anything, and came up with nothing.

“Come on!” Danny yelled at the patch of blue sky where the portal had closed. He spun in a circle, the Booo-merang clutched tightly in his fist, but it didn’t pull in any direction, and he didn’t catch so much as a glimmer of the familiar green of the Ghost Zone. “Just open up again already!” It was as effective as he’d expected it to be, which was not at all, but screaming out his frustrations made him feel a bit better. “Now! Please?”

Unsurprisingly, the portal didn’t listen.

Out of appealing options, Danny threw the Booo-merang. Logically, he knew it wasn’t the Infi-Map. Logically, he knew that the universe did not often do what was convenient for him, even if he sometimes got incredibly lucky in a fight. Logically, he knew that the chances of the Booo-merang deciding to reprogram itself to find portals just because it had done it this one time (likely coincidentally) were slim to none.

Illogically, he didn’t expect the stupid thing to circle around and hit him in the back of the head again.

Danny cursed and landed to retrieve the fallen Booo-mang from the roadway, muttering under his breath about how much he’d like to just dismantle the thing and hide the pieces. He wouldn’t, of course. It worked too well to risk Sam, Tucker, and Jazz losing the ability to find him if they really needed to. It had been dicey enough the few times his parents had decided to try to ‘fix’ it, only for disaster (Vlad) to strike in the meantime.

That didn’t mean Danny couldn’t fantasize about bashing it against a rock, though. There were plenty of those around.

“That’s a weird looking boomerang,” someone said from behind him, and Danny nearly jumped into the air right there.

He didn’t, mostly because he was getting used to Sam and Tucker trying to surprise him, but it was a near thing.

He wasn’t used to people sneaking up on him. His ghost sense was reliable, Dash made more noise walking around than even Jack Fenton, and, well, most of the people who hunted him couldn’t be subtle if they tried, especially since a good chunk of them liked hearing their own voice. He’d only ever really had to worry about Jazz, and self-preservation in the face of tickle attacks had given him the ability to be extra sensitive to her presence whenever she was in a certain mood.

The two who’d caught him by surprise now must have come from the trees on the other side of the road, and he hoped that meant they hadn’t seen him do anything particularly ghostly. Granted, neither of them was screaming, so he should be safe. They didn’t look terrified, either. Wary, maybe, but not scared.

Danny guessed that they were both somewhere around his age. Siblings, by the looks of them, but probably not twins even if they’d both decided to leave the house wearing oddly styled blue clothes today, at least compared to the usual jeans and T-shirt combo Danny was used to seeing. Unless he wasn’t anywhere near the States anymore? Or unless he’d been flung through to a different time. But the boy had spoken English, and it hadn’t sounded funny to Danny’s ears, no lilt of a foreign accent or strange phrasing that he associated with Shakespeare or something.

The girl was his height, the boy a bit taller, and they were both staring at him.

They probably thought he was the one who was dressed strangely.

The boy pointed. “Your boomerang,” he repeated. “It looks weird.”

The girl elbowed him in the gut—none too gently, judging by his immediate wheeze—and hissed, “Sokka!”

Yeah, those two were definitely siblings. And even if the girl wasn’t older, she definitely had the annoying (and annoyed) sister tone down pat. Danny had heard (and been on the receiving end of) the same from similar exchanges with Jazz more than once.

“Sokka’s going to apologize, right, Sokka?”

The boy frowned and then threw up his hands. “Right. I apologize for saying your boomerang looks weird. It looks interesting.”

The girl stepped on his foot, and he yelped. “What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Maybe the portal had dumped him out in the middle of some historical re-enactment thing. Granted, there should really be more people around if that were the case—or at least hidden cameras. He was better at spotting them now. Vlad and his creepy spy tendencies aside, Danny had gotten good at noticing (and avoiding) cameras so he didn’t let his secret get caught on tape. (There were a surprising number of places in Amity Park not under video surveillance, or at least not under real video surveillance even if they had fake cameras out; he could practically transform in the middle of the street sometimes.)

Still, nothing about this felt staged. It didn’t even feel like one of his enemy’s tricks, some giant setup that was meant to trap him or whatever. That’s not to say Danny was wholly convinced this meeting, whatever it was, was merely chance—he didn’t particularly trust Clockwork not to arrange things as he saw fit without warning anyone—but it didn’t feel overly contrived, either. There was just….

Something felt off, and he couldn’t explain what it was.

“It’s fine,” Danny repeated, since the two were looking at him dubiously, but the familiar phrase felt strange on his tongue, almost like—

Wait.

“Okay, this is going to sound like a weird question, but where are we?”

The boy, Sokka, blinked. “Did you hit your head or something? We’re in the Earth Kingdom. Or, wait, do you mean where in the Earth Kingdom? Look, if you need new supplies, there’s not much in the last few villages, but we’re about a day from—”

The girl elbowed him again, and he fell silent. Danny could see the growing suspicion on her face for what it was, could see suspicion settling on the boy’s face as well, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d asked the wrong question or because he’d asked something at all. He’d been paying attention this time, watching Sokka’s lips, and Danny didn’t have to be a good lip reader to know that he hadn’t been saying the words Danny had heard.

Well.

More accurately, he hadn’t been saying them in English.

And Danny, in answering, had somehow not been speaking English.

That was not, as far as Danny was aware, something Clockwork could do to him.

He didn’t know a ghost who had power over language, though, unless the Ghostwriter had something else up his sleeve and this mess was it. Nocturne would be able to pull anything in a dream, but Danny couldn’t see why he’d bother including something that would be an obvious tell like this, so it shouldn’t be him even if he had decided to come back. More likely, it was someone he hadn’t fought before, someone who had targeted him, seen an opportunity when the Booo-merang had hit him and seized upon it to throw him…here.

Wherever here was.

The Earth Kingdom, apparently.

“Um.” The girl still looked like she expected him to start fighting, and her stance…. Danny didn’t recognize it, but he did know that she looked ready to move at any moment. Her brother had taken her cue and, while Danny hadn’t been paying attention, pulled out a boomerang of his own. That couldn’t be good. “Look. I know how this sounds.” How he sounded, more like. If he had some accent he couldn’t hear because he wasn’t speaking their language properly, whatever it was, this had to be a setup after all.

Someone had sent him here to be dealt with. By this world, this dimension or construct or whatever it was, if not necessarily by these two people.

Granted, Danny wasn’t sure why someone would go to the trouble of letting him understand and be understood in the first place if that were the case, since he could get in just as much trouble without speaking the native language.

Surely he wasn’t actually supposed to help someone here, right? This wasn’t even his world. Or the Ghost Zone. Whatever was going on here was most definitely not his business.

Except now he was in the middle of it, so if there was something going on, it would be beneficial to find out what it was sooner rather than later.

This wasn’t some Jumanji kind of thing where he’d been tossed into a game and had to do whatever it was to get out again, was it? It didn’t feel like the time he’d gone into Doomed, but that had been intentional, and this….

Okay, no, he didn’t have enough information to speculate, which meant he needed to get some information out of these two in order to get somewhere. “I just…. I was kidnapped and dumped here for some reason, and I’m trying to find my way home.” That was close enough to the truth that it shouldn’t raise any red flags. Hopefully. “My name is Danny.” Introducing himself as Phantom, even in ghost mode, wasn’t something he wanted to do when he had no idea how these people felt about ghosts. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d ever see him as Fenton. He just needed to stick to the ground and pretend to be a normal human being, which he could most definitely do—at least when the sun was bright enough that his slight glow was basically nonexistent. He doubted it would be terribly noticeable even under the cover of trees.

“Danny,” the girl repeated, not relaxing her stance. “That’s an unusual name.”

Sokka just cocked his head at Danny. “Why would anyone kidnap you?”

It was spoken like it was an innocent, thoughtless question, something that could be brushed away with a laugh, but Danny could read an underlying tension in each of their faces. Sokka was waiting on his answer, and so was his sister. Danny’s response might very well determine what happened next.

Consequently, Danny didn’t miss the fact that Sokka didn’t offer up any potential explanations that he could jump on.

Another lie wasn’t going to do him any favours, not when he knew so little. “I don’t know.” He could guess, but he didn’t know. From the looks of it, though, these two wouldn’t be satisfied with that. Chances were good they wouldn’t be particularly satisfied with his suspicions, either, which was that someone wanted him out of the way for whatever they were planning—or maybe that someone had decided they wanted to have a little fun with him at his expense, if world domination wasn’t on the table. “My parents are inventors. Maybe that’s why?”

“That doesn’t explain why whoever took you would leave you here,” Sokka pointed out, and Danny wished these two weren’t so smart. “If you were taken because you were valuable, you wouldn’t have been left behind unguarded.”

“So maybe they kidnapped the wrong person and realized that I wasn’t who they wanted?”

Sokka exchanged glances with his sister before murmuring, “We can ask Toph. I mean, it’s possible they found us, but if he is really a Fire Nation plant picked solely for his eye colour, they’d have at least dyed his hair and given him some normal clothes.”

Danny decided not to ask who the heck picked people for something based on eye colour and not skill or merit or experience or something normal like that. Aside from derailing the conversation from anything potentially useful, Danny was pretty sure Sokka hadn’t realized he’d been overheard, and it wouldn’t be in Danny’s best interests to let them know how good his hearing was.

Still, he took the opportunity to tuck away the Booo-merang before they could ask any questions about it that he wasn’t up to answering. Maybe it would make him seem like less of a threat if they didn’t think he was ready to use it as a weapon—not that he knew how to use a boomerang as a weapon, but he was pretty sure Sokka hadn’t pulled his out to see which of them could throw it farther or throw it properly—and maybe then they’d trust him enough to answer his questions. Hopefully. He was perfectly willing to meet this Toph if it meant figuring out where he was and how to get home, especially since it would be easy enough for him to cut and run later.

The movement was enough to draw the attention of the siblings, though, and both pairs of eyebrows rose. Had they not expected him to make what he hoped would be taken as a gesture of trust or were they wondering how the heck he’d gotten it into his pocket? Maybe they thought he was trying to hide it, which wouldn’t help matters at all. Then again, if they thought that he thought it had been a subtle move, then maybe—

No.

He had to stop doing this. He didn’t know enough about these two to try to guess their thoughts, let alone what actions they might take against him.

Danny shifted on his feet, glad they hadn’t jumped to attacking and that they weren’t even asking questions about the Booo-merang, since practically anything about it would be difficult to answer. At least they hadn’t seen him flying. Even for people familiar with ghosts, unknown ones tended to be cause for concern until their threat level was assessed, and Danny didn’t want to invite trouble and immediately find out what this world had that messed with ghosts. Sure, he wanted to know what could hurt him here, but finding out while it wasn’t actively being used against him was infinitely preferable.

“Where did you say you were from?” the girl asked after a beat, even though they all knew he’d never said anything about that.

“Nowhere you would know,” he hedged, which was true enough.

“We travel a lot,” the girl said, and her brother snorted.

“What Katara means is, try us. If we can help you get back to your family, what do you have to lose?” Sokka offered Danny a grin, and his stance had visibly relaxed, even if he hadn’t put his boomerang away. It might be just for show, especially since he still had a weapon out, but at least the girl hadn’t drawn any knives or something like that. “Look, from one guy to another, you don’t need to make up some crazy story if you’re a runaway or something like that. We’re basically runaways.”

“We’re running towards something, not away from it.”

“We were almost runaways.” To Danny, Sokka added, “Gran caught us, but she let us go.”

Katara rolled her eyes, and Danny looked between the two of them as Sokka continued talking. It was obvious that they’d changed tack for some reason, no doubt trying to get him to trust them, but the blatant switch made him uneasy. Did they not realize how obvious that was or was this just their usual dynamic?

“I’m from Amity,” Danny eventually interrupted. He knew from the way that they were looking at him that neither of them had forgotten he had yet to answer the question. He’d already told them they wouldn’t know the place, so technically he could’ve said Amity Park, but for all he knew, these two had been sent to get information out of him, and the less he told a potential enemy, the better.

Come to think of it, maybe he shouldn’t have told them his real name, and maybe he should’ve just made up a village name rather than dropping heavy hints about his hometown.

“Which is near—?”

Danny ignored Sokka’s prompt. He didn’t even have a good enough idea of the geography of this place to make that up, especially when there was a chance they knew the area, runaways or no. “Do you know where I could get some water? I haven’t found any since I woke up.” That wasn’t true, but they wouldn’t know that unless they were getting some more intel about him from someone unseen.

The siblings looked at each other again, and then Katara faced him and said, “We’re headed to the river. Come with us. You can get your water, and we can share our catch if we get anything.”

“Wait, I didn’t agree to share my meat!” Sokka exclaimed. Katara’s only answer was a dirty look, but it was enough to have Sokka subsiding into grumbles.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Danny said, which also strictly wasn’t true, but he knew he didn’t need to eat much.

“You might be hungry by the time we’re finished,” Katara said over Sokka’s griping.

Danny hesitated, trying to figure out how weird it would be if he made up some excuse not to go with them. What were the chances that this was a trap when he’d brought up the river—or at least water—before they had? It wasn’t that he thought they’d be able to take him out if it came to that, even if Jazz had more experience fighting normally than he did, since he typically relied a lot on his powers when he could.

These two might be better fighters than him—there were almost certainly better hunters, given how silently they could walk—but he’d always have something like intangibility in his back pocket if it came to it, and they wouldn’t. Still, when it came down to it, he wasn’t used to fighting humans. What if he didn’t pull his punches enough and seriously hurt one of them?

“You can tell us about Amity,” Katara added. “We’ve never been there.”

Danny really hoped that was true and that there wasn’t a place in this world called Amity that they knew well. Still, when they started walking, spreading out so he was always in sight and they never had their backs to him, even when they hit the trees on the other side of the road, he kept pace with them. “It’s pretty much like you’d expect.” Except for the ghosts. At least his ghost sense hadn’t gone off here. Yet. “This is probably the farthest I’ve ever travelled from home.” He couldn’t get much farther away than a completely different dimension that (probably) wasn’t as connected to his world as it was to the Ghost Zone, anyway—unless he counted when he’d time travelled, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

Katara opened her mouth to ask another question, maybe to press him for details, so Danny cut her off. “What about you two?”

They looked at each other again. How many times were they going to do that? Hadn’t they already decided how far to trust him? Danny knew it wasn’t very far, but they’d clearly decided he wasn’t going to straight up attack them at this precise moment, so even if they didn’t tell him the whole truth—

Sokka gestured at their clothes. “We’re Water Tribe.”

He said it like it was obvious, like Danny should’ve known already, but of course it explained absolutely nothing.

“Southern Water Tribe,” Katara added unhelpfully, despite Sokka’s frown. “We wanted to see the world, and now we are.”

As cover stories went, it was better than Danny’s. Barely. “Right,” he said, wondering again why he’d been dumped in the path of these two. “It’s a nice world to see.”

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, because they were both looking at him like they’d expected him to say anything but that. “What?”

“There’s a war on, you’re supposedly kidnapped and dropped off somewhere in occupied territory without any of the proper paperwork, and the best you can come up with is it’s a nice world to see?” Sokka turned his incredulous look from Danny to Katara. “He cannot be Fire Nation. This kid is more sheltered than Toph was supposed to be.”

Danny, who had stumbled at the word war, kept walking and hoped they hadn’t noticed. If they had, maybe they’d think he’d tripped over a tree root or fallen branch or hole or something. They weren’t following a trail, so that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, right?

“It’s all right,” Katara said as she reached out to touch his arm, and, okay, from that gentle tone, which was a complete change from anything earlier, it must mean she had noticed, knew he hadn’t tripped over anything in the terrain, and—from how she was looking at him now—thought it wasn’t surprise that had tripped Danny up, either. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to be a little naïve until you have a chance to leave home for the first time, but unless you’re got a camp around here, you’re not prepared at all.”

Sokka finally put his boomerang away and smirked at Danny. “We at least left home with supplies.”

“Did you have to run without any warning?” Katara asked, giving her brother a pointed look.

“Oh, uh, kinda.” Danny winced, knowing that had to sound like a lie. “I…I didn’t really plan on leaving when I did. This just…happened.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, but Katara said, “You don’t have to worry. We’re the last people who would turn you in to the Fire Nation.”

Right. So the Fire Nation were the bad guys, at least according to the Water Tribe and, if he was putting things together correctly, the Earth Kingdom, where they were. Meaning the Fire Nation had invaded the Earth Kingdom if this was occupied territory. Danny thought about asking why these two had come into occupied territory themselves and then decided he didn’t want to risk getting into a discussion that would show off how little he knew. If they had decided he was a runaway who knew practically nothing about the world, well, that worked in his favour.

“Thanks.” Danny wasn’t sure what else to say. “Why are you helping me, though? Won’t that put you in danger?” That had to be a fair question in this situation.

“We can’t help everyone,” Katara said quietly, “but we can help some people, even if it’s just a tiny bit. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”

Danny really didn’t know what to say to that, because she certainly wouldn’t understand if he said he knew the feeling, so he smiled weakly in thanks and let the conversation drop.

They were still watching him, but they were more subtle about it now, and it didn’t look like they were watching him more closely than they were watching everything else.

Being downgraded from a threat was a win, though. Danny hoped he didn’t do anything to mess it up.

“There’s no shame in being a refugee,” Sokka said after a moment. “Being from a richer family might’ve bought you an isolated childhood, but it wouldn’t guarantee your safety.”

“We won’t try to hold you for ransom if you tell us where you’re really from,” added Katara.

Danny glanced at her. “I said I was from Amity.”

“I could say I have a platypus bear as a pet,” Sokka interjected. “That doesn’t make it true.”

“We know what it’s like, thinking you understand the way things are and then realizing how little you know,” Katara said quietly. “It can be overwhelming.”

“And it would explain why you’re in your nightclothes,” Sokka said. He’d come in range of Katara’s fist, but he danced out of the way as she swung in his direction. He hadn’t even needed to look at her to know it was coming. “You didn’t know enough to keep your valuables hidden and got robbed your first night on your own, didn’t you?”

“I—” Danny knew it was an excuse for his ignorance being handed to him on a silver platter, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up with a lie like that when he knew so little. “These aren’t my pajamas,” he said instead. Let them believe what they wanted to believe; that would make his life easier. Even if it blew up in his face somehow, he could truthfully say he’d never said they were right.

They might be suspicious that he hadn’t outright denied it, but then again, he’d already told them something a lot closer to the truth.

“Uh huh.” Sokka glanced at Katara again, and she gave a slight shake her head that Danny didn’t understand.

“Let’s get you some food and water first,” Katara said. “Then we can see about finding you other supplies.”

Danny decided not to point out that they’d already told him it was slim pickings for supplies around here. Not that he had the money to pay for anything, but Sokka had already guessed that. Besides, they thought he was running around in his pjs.

Judging by the sour look on Sokka’s face, he’d evidently translated his sister’s words to mean that she wanted to give him some of their supplies, something Sokka clearly wasn’t sure he approved of.

Katara must have had similar thoughts on Sokka’s expression, since she murmured, “It’s this or bring him with us, and you know what’s safer.”

Katara might not have minded that Danny could overhear her last words, but Sokka closed the distance between them, pulling his sister farther away from Danny before hissing, “It’s not the only option, and you know it. We can’t afford to give away any of our supplies, and just because Toph can make sure he’s not coming in with the intention of stabbing us in the back, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t blab to anyone once he figures out who we’re travelling with. You know as well as I do that that wouldn’t take very long.”

“He’s just kid.”

“Technically, like Aang keeps reminding us, we’re just kids. Who very much cannot afford to so much as drop him off in the next village. Show him the river and teach him how to catch and cook his meals? Fine. Picking him up as a stray when he’s not bringing anything to the table? Not fine.”

“He’s lost.”

“So? He’s not hurt. He’s already in a better position than some refugees. He’ll survive until he can walk to the nearest settlement. Then he can try to get help from people who can actually give it.”

Katara bit her lip and slowed to a stop. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

Danny very much wanted to know the answer to that—what had Katara figured out?—but he tried not to react so they didn’t know he’d been listening in. He deliberately turned away and stared around the trees instead, a mix of deciduous and evergreen. He couldn’t pick out any specific types of trees—nothing distinctive like oak leaves that he could see—and, as far as he could tell, the woods were utterly devoid of critters. He had no idea if that was because this world wasn’t real or if it was simply because all the animals in the region had had warning of their coming and hidden accordingly.

Danny knew his disinterest wouldn’t be very convincing, but if he was lucky, they’d think he’d given up on trying to eavesdrop.

“There’s something…off about him. Not necessarily something wrong, but something different. I can’t…. When he asked about water, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding any on him or nearby in case it was a trap, and— He didn’t feel the same as you or me. I can’t explain it. Toph might have a better idea than I do. Or…or Aang.” The last word was a barely audible whisper.

“You think this might be a spirit thing?” Sokka’s response was closer to a suppressed shriek than anything else, and Danny winced.

“I think he might be spirit touched,” Katara answered, and Sokka’s sharp inhalation was painfully audible. “I wasn’t good enough back then to notice anything about Yue, but—”

“Fine.” Sokka’s voice had gone flat. “I don’t want to shun someone and accidentally anger the spirits. I’ll teach him to fish. You go back and interrupt advanced earthbending practice and pick a meeting place, but make sure everyone’s packed in case this doesn’t go the way you think it’ll go.”

“I know to be careful.”

“We all know to be careful. Some of us just need more reminding than others.”

Katara didn’t say anything else, but she must have nodded or done something similar because Danny heard Sokka stalk back over to him. “Katara’s going back to talk to the rest of our group about what we might be able to spare,” he said as Danny turned back to face him, “and I’ll show you how to fish in the meantime. If you don’t catch anything, I’ll give you one of mine.”

Danny wasn’t about to admit that he’d overheard their entire conversation, so he smiled and said, “That sounds great, thanks.” It didn’t stop the uneasiness from settling in his gut, though. Sure, now he knew these people believed in ghosts, and Sokka’s response made it clear he didn’t want to get on their bad side, but Danny had no idea what being spirit touched meant. He didn’t know if that was seen as a good thing or a bad thing.

More to the point, if it was a bad thing, he didn’t know if these people had something suitable with which to attack spirit touched people, since if they did, chances were good that it would work on him.

He was not lucky enough to get a free pass here.

Still, the odds were good that he’d be able to escape if they did attack since he’d know to be on watch for something, and he wasn’t about to turn down an offer of food. He had no idea when a portal would open and he’d be able to go home. Until then, the best he could do was survive.

He’d survived this much, and his life had hardly been a walk in the park since the accident, let alone before. He wasn’t about to let some ghost fling him into an unknown world and succeed in taking him down. He needed to get out of this to kick their butt and prove to them that they couldn’t get rid of him that easily.

Assuming this wasn’t all a series of genuine coincidences and not the result of the careful manipulation of events.

Danny didn’t want to think about that, though.

He had a much better chance of getting home if there was someone he could beat, and he was going to get home.

Somehow.

(see more fics)

#danny phantom #atla #avatar the last airbender #danny fenton #sokka #katara #crossover #fanfiction #dp fanfiction #atla fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #geronimo-alonzi

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saphirered · 3 years

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Percy and Bad first times? I love these asks thank you!

I do not know why it took me approximately an eternity to write this but I finished it. I hope it will have been worth the wait. 😘

(Percy)

The moment Percy walked into your life you thought he was very much the egotistical rich kid. First impressions weren’t great as he concluded that wether or not you came from money or status, you rebelled against the social norms of high society. You two were polar opposites and anyone who said opposites attract; you were the proof against that claim for the longest time.

At the realisation you wouldn’t be leaving any time soon Percy tried to school you in manners for his sake correcting your behaviour and even words like you were some insolent child. You did not take this well and the argument that followed, unavoidable. Many things were said, some neither of you are proud of and you didn’t speak for days unless it were some snide remarks.

Then it came to a job to interact with high society people and you got to show Percy how wrong he was as you properly addressed the people, held your posture correctly and picked every word eloquently. Taken aback by your complete 180 in behaviour a conversation was in order. You got the pleasure telling Percy his ‘lessons’ had nothing to do with this and unlike some people you’d rather not be a pompous ass with a superiority complex like some people.

This lead Percy to dive into some research trying to find your name and family name, tapping into all resources at his disposal to figure you out telling himself you might be a threat if you were hiding things. He was not prepared to find out what happened with your family and faced you with the fact he found your past. The first one on one you had was Percy quite literally cornering you so you couldn’t avoid him. Admittedly not his proudest moment. You needed to talk so talk you did.

Telling Percy your story and trusting him with it might have been the first time you’ve told anyone since you left your home. In turn to set the record straight he told you what had happened with his own family. You came to the conclusion you’re not so different after all. A mutual understanding and trust formed between the two of you, though your arguments did not end with you disagreed on a matter. Rarely did you give the other the silent treatment and instead came to an agree-to-disagree conclusion if compromise was not an option. In time, they’d cease to be arguments all together and simply turn into conversations.

At this point you might even have considered yourselves friends. You found yourselves spending more time together. Percy was raised the so-mani-eth child extremely unlikely to be the heir of his family but with the tragedy that befell them, only he and his sister remained. You were raised to continue your family’s legacy but had lost everything. When Whitestone was returned to the surviving De Rolo’s you promised to give aide in any way you could.

Vox Machina, taken in a different direction you stayed behind with Cassandra. You took no titles or lands no matter how many times, Cassandra and the council offered them. In his time away from you and his home he came to realise he’d begun missing your company, the conversations and having to be the smart and semi-responsible one of the group. Not only that, you’ve been a rock in the current that’s his chaos and with you away he feels he’s more likely to fall to the temptations placed in front of him. Proof of that; the trip to the city of Dis.

When this realisation hits Percy he’ll take any opportunity to spend more time with you. He doesn’t inject himself into your daily life but any time there’s a reason for him to be present he’ll take it. Him coming clean about the contract and handing it to you for safekeeping trusting you that no matter the circumstance you’ll never give it to him, you absolutely go apeshit on him. How could he be so damn stupid. A deal with a devil? Really?! All the what ifs… It made you realise your anger and disappointment came from a place of affection.

You made Percy promise he’d tell you when he’s thinking of doing something stupid he’ll tell you before doing the thing. Before he leaves for another adventure or comes back from one you’ll go on a walk, have dinner or just relax somewhere. Sometimes you’ll talk, sometimes sit in silence, whatever you feel like in that moment. You’d begun holding hands, hugging or a kiss to the cheek before departure or upon return, tiny displays of affection.

You were informed Percy had died, but as Grog told you, he got better. Reasonably so you freaked out but you were also aware of the risk of the adventurer lifestyle, more accurately the lifestyle of someone with enemies like Percy. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel like your heart just shattered in that moment. You cared for Percy until he recovered. It’s the first time you truly saw Percy weak, not of mind wavering to a pact with an entity or the likes, but mentally done.

Percy first realised he might hold more than affections for you when you promised him that you’d always have one more thing for him to do. No matter how messed up the world looked, there’d always be a place for him with you. He’s not stupid enough to think this doesn’t come out of a deep affection of your own but he can’t be too sure it’s love either. It’s obvious you care for him, and maybe you do love him but are you in love with him? He’s not sure. Is he in love with you? He’s unsure. He knows he cares about you immensely and loves you just as much and that’s enough for him.

Percy is a man of impulse. This comes in especially handy when someone lacks courage to do something. He doesn’t approach you for your first ‘official’ date. It was just like any other outing you’d gone on or time you spent together except for the fact Percy asked you out, letting slip it was a date. If just asking you this was already so difficult he definitely would need a bottle of courage or two admitting his feelings out loud.

You’re clever enough and know how to read people enough that you weren’t oblivious to Percy’s recent changes in behaviour towards you. You were also clever enough to place them and, when courage fails you’re not one to beat around the bush. You called him out and half fearing you’d turn him down, he was proven the opposite when you pulled him in by the ascot and kissed him. Surprising but not unwanted.

Seeing no need in defining your relationship for others, you also didn’t ease the others into this development. Watching you kiss Percy passionately before he was off on another adventure leaving everyone around very surprised. So surprised they missed the mark on Keyleth’s transport via plants. Bombarded with questions about when or how this happened Percy didn’t want to indulge them with answers and instead spent more time with you.

Of course you had shared sleeping spaces before. You weren’t strangers to sharing a bed but you can comfortably say, it became much more comfortable after you first shared your bed together as lovers in the afterglow, waking up like a sweaty mess. Sharing baths after became the norm to freshen up and relax. The perfect excuse to spend more time together and have everyone else gagging after the look you’d share when asked why you missed breakfast… and lunch…

It took a long while before you first found yourselves able to exchange I love you’s but when danger came knocking at your door and you were thrown back into the fight for Tal’Dorei with Vox Machina’s allies it was now or never. Seeing things go south you got the pleasure of teaming up with a brass dragon to kick some undead ass.

“Before we both do something incredibly stupid I want you to know I love you.” Simple and efficient and to the point.

“I am tempted to hold these words for myself until after we’ve saved the world. Call it motivation to stay alive but since you made such an effort already. I love you too, dear.” Asshole. What did you expect. The feeling was mutual.

(Caduceus)

The first time you met Caduceus you’d killed someone in not too far out from Shady Creek. The down side, you killed someone important. They came after you, you protected yourself but then you had a body to deal with. You heard about the cursed place, and decided to just bury it there. You didn’t expect to find a dopey pink haired firbolg to be living at the heart of the place. He was surprisingly helpful in burying the body you brought to the point you were almost sure you’d be buried right next to your victim soon. Luckily for you you were proven wrong.

You couldn’t really return to Shady Creek and it’s not like you had much of a home there so you wandered the forests hunting and gathering for food and warmth at night avoiding the cursed places and dangers as much as you could. You couldn’t and returned to the safety of the Blooming Grove. So you made a deal, you’d stay with the firbolg, help him out at his graveyard, cemetery, whatever it is and he’d give you a place to sleep at night.

You resorted to staying inside the small temple sleeping on the floor but soon enough, Caduceus invited you to just take one of the beds in the house and stick around instead of leave at dawn to find food, removing some weeds, watering some plants, and return at dusk. No more wandering you fell into more domestic tasks solidifying your roommate life with the man. It had been a while since either of you were in (good) company so you appreciated anything that could talk and wasn’t trying to murder you.

In your time spent with Caduceus you heard bits and pieces about his family but what didn’t add up for you were the beds and belongings he didn’t touch or did so with care to keep them clean. When you got the courage to ask Caduceus told you the story of Clay, Stone and Dust and how his family left to save the Grove and perhaps even the Savalirwood as a whole. It felt odd to actually talk to someone about them that’s not him to himself. He appreciated your compassion, telling him that they’d come back home and with the stories he told you hope you’d get to meet them one day.

Caduceus’ expert prepping of meals left you wanting to be able to do the same. Of course he was happy to teach you and with his guidance you cooked your first meal. It wasn’t the best but definitely beat anything you could make on the road by yourself. The spices are to die for. You found yourself falling into the habit of cooking together; a nice way to end the day.

You were having a particularly tough day and ready to just curl up and let the world consume you, there was no hiding from your friendly firbolg roommate. He knew what’s up but gave you a chance to come to him. You didn’t so he came to you. He didn’t say anything, just sat next to you with a cup of tea, set another one in front of you and stayed quiet until you were ready to talk or get back to your business if you didn’t. He wasn’t going to pry in personal matters unless you asked him.

An encounter with a nasty creature you were unable to scare off and away had Caduceus pinned to the ground. With enough courage and some knowledge of physical combat you managed to get the creature off and injure it enough so it fled. Pulling Caduceus to his feet you were engulfed in a hug with a thank you. As is common knowledge Caduceus hugs are the best hugs you found yourself asking for more. Caduceus wasn’t at all opposed to keep this a thing as he’d always enjoyed hugs.

With the two of you growing closer, living together you decided to sit down and talk about what you had and where it was going as neither of you wanted to accidentally lead on the other or set expectations that could not be met. Neither of you were looking for romantic love or romance at all. Some might refer to you as bestest of friends or life partners but that didn’t really seem to fit. You’re just you and Caduceus is him and you liked hugging and spending time together, going through the motions of life and that’s all you needed.

When the Nein came along looking for help, Caduceus offered for you to stay behind, the Blooming Grove was just as much your home as it was his but you went along anyway. You’d never left the forest. Never travelled south either but many adventures found their way to you and you’d be spending them with you with Caduceus through all the ups and downs. The Nein got so used to your dynamic they never questioned it. It was just something that existed and was happening and quite frankly, one of the few normal things about you and the firbolg.

When the day came you found the Clay family you got to be there for Caduceus as he had for you. Meeting them for the first time they lived up to the stories you’d been told. The Clays were very happy to meet Caduceus’ friends but upon learning about your connection to him they were relieved he hadn’t been all alone for all those years they were gone and had some company. They offered you to come back with them but just like Caduceus, there was still some unfinished business and these people, the Mighty Nein still needed your help.

Then, when everything came to a close, you returned to the Blooming Grove and spent the rest of your days there living content. It had been your home and would continue to be your home. The Clays became your family and for the first time in forever you could see yourself content at home leaving with Caduceus to travel at times but always return to that little spot in the Savalirwood.

#critrole x reader #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caduceus x reader #caduceus clay #critical role #percival x reader #percy x reader #vox machina x reader #vox machina

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