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happilyhertale · 9 months

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hello! I was hoping to send in a tom bennett x reader request that I have in mind.

basically, reader is sent off by her father to have an arranged marriage with an older, rich man. she's young and still has a whole life ahead of her however she decides not to fight against her father and does what pleases him. reader feels miserable, her husband barely acknowledges her and when he does, he says nasty things.

one night, she stumbles upon a man, tom bennett. two end up beginning a secret love affair of sorts. please? 💜

Life anchor – Tom Bennett x female!reader, Part 1

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warnings: Misogyny, light violence

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A little Tom Bennett story requested by the wonderful @chainsawsangel 💕

Sorry it took me so long to write this! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2.9k

Part 2, Part 3

Other stories of mine

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"No discussion. You will marry him"

You just looked at your father in disbelief. A burning spread through your eyes, brought on by the tears that blurred your vision.

Yet you refused to give in.

"You can't be serious... He is almost your age, father!" you tried to say in a firm voice, but your voice threatened to fail.

A sigh left your father, "It's our chance..."

"... your father. It's your chance," you had interrupted him.

"It's our chance for me to cement my place in politics. To earn more money. He can guarantee us that. You just have to agree to marry him," your father said to you.

Single tears now ran over the rim of your eyes. You looked to the side and tried to suppress a sob. A heaviness spread through your chest that would not let you go for a long time.

"Father... please don't do this to me..." you whispered without looking at him.

But at first there was no reply from your father and you had to make sure that he had not left the room. But when you looked to him, you saw that his gaze was fixed on you.

"We have no choice," he said to you quietly.

From then on you knew that you had no choice - you had to marry William.

In those moments, your suffering began to grow. In the prime of your early twenties, you found yourself married to a man who had outlived nearly fifty years of his life. Since that union, a heavy unease has settled in your chest that refuses to go away.

William has a face that is not far from attractive; some would even dare to call it attractive. If only his inner character didn't cast a shadow over his outer appearance. While his physical stature is tall and his mane of hair exudes a lush darkness, it is the elegance of his clothing that always graces him, coupled with the incessant curve of a smile on his lips.

On the surface, he treats you with an almost warm politeness. And yet, in this realm beyond the surface, he remains uninterested in the totality of your being, unmoved by your passions or aspirations that truly define you as a person. In his perception, you are nothing more than a decorative facade, a charming companion on his arm. The words between the two of you are sparse, relegated to a realm of brevity.

When confronted with problems or troubling circumstances in his immediate environment, he brandishes his wealth as the ultimate remedy. His conviction is based on the notion that the amount of financial resources directly correlates to a person's intrinsic worth. He conveys this conviction by subliminally making his interlocutors feel inferior compared to him. You find disgust in this pretense and detest the artificial facades he puts on.

The house in which you live is surrounded by a huge green space. It is a really pretty property, but still you feel lost there. It is oversized, its rooms reflect emptiness. And those who share most of your time there are your employees. The fact that William is rarely present doesn't bother you - solitude is a cherished companion.

In the midst of this house there is a room set aside just for your comfort. When the burden of your heart becomes too heavy, you retreat there to rest. It is a refuge to bear the burden in your chest.

William's return often takes place under the gaze of the moon, the late hours being his time of arrival. But at times, a communal dinner graces the quiet nights. Occasionally, when you are already in bed together, he becomes a nocturnal partner. His body language varies - sometimes averted, sometimes seeking closeness. Almost like a dance between your husband's ignorance and his desire to be intimate with you.

There is an undeniable lack of zeal in this scenario. You endure it with unwavering stoicism and wait patiently for him to complete his act. As soon as sleep catches up with him and he has his back turned to you again, you rise and quietly retreat to the bathroom. Hidden in a cabinet is a small vial of diluted acetic acid. Using an pipette, you wash his semen from your body with it. The weight on your chest, which never leaves you, is almost unbearable at such moments.

One evening, William opens up to you that you are going to visit an adjacent naval ship. It is of great importance - well, not to you.

The naval ship is docked in your city's harbor, almost like a symbol of England's maritime power and importance. Politicians of the highest importance have been invited to join an expedition aboard this ship, meet its dedicated crew, and make connections.

William has agreed to participate in this momentous event, and by his side you will find yourself in his presence as an escort. On a quiet afternoon, you set out on your way. First you will visit the berth of the ship and later you will move on to a nearby banquet hall, for a small celebration with the crew and the politicians.

In the midst of this journey, a gentle rain falls from the sky, decorating the window panes of the carriage in glistening rivulets. The reverberations of William's words ring dully in your ears, and your nods of time punctuate the conversation as you are drawn to the fleeting ballet of raindrops on the glass.

As the car approaches its destination, the port's towering cranes wave like sentinels of industry, drawing your gaze to the ships resting on the calm water. Your gaze falls on the naval vessel. "H.M.S. Keith" you read as the car passes the ship. A strange name for a ship, you think to yourself. The car stops, a sign that you have reached your destination and it is time to put on a smile.

Even before your feet hit solid ground, William stands resolutely in the midst of his comrades-in-arms, deeply engrossed in a speech.

A smile curls your lips as you make your way to his side. Your smile is reflected on the lips of the other wives, who also stand beside their husbands.

In the midst of the gathering, your gaze falls upon the captain of the ship, a prominent figure emerging from the sanctuary of the vessel. He embodies the essence of a leader. His portly figure is crowned by a cap, behind which hides hair made silver by time and experience.

He greets the ladies with a gallant gesture and gives each hand a gentle kiss. Inside, your familiar heaviness weighs on your chest, a weight that threatens to impede the rising and falling of your breath, but you wear your smile undaunted like an ornate mask.

With a fluid movement, the captain turns his attention to the gentlemen, and together they enter the waiting ship. The men walk ahead of their wives, almost like obedient dogs you trot along behind them. You are led to the upper deck and find yourself in the midst of cramped quarters. You realize that the men are doing their work in this confined space day after day, entangled in the toils of war.

Your thoughts are momentarily interrupted as you come face to face with the assembled crew. A disciplined line of sailors stands before you, and as the eyes of the sailors notice the presence of the women, a chorus of whistles sounds playfully through the air. Quickly, the captain steps in and restores decorum to his ranks. With a mixture of curiosity and fascination, you gaze at the unfamiliar faces until your gaze lingers on a pair of steely blue eyes. Unable to break the connection, you feel trapped as his gaze seems to peer into the depths of your soul.

Suddenly, a faint smile graces his lips, making your heart flutter. As if in a trance, you avert your gaze, and a blush of surprise coats your cheeks as you notice William at your side. His arm wraps around your waist. You return his gaze. There is a slight irritation in William's gaze as he notices the color of your cheek. But the blank smile replaces his irritation almost immediately.

"Come on, let's leave the smelly guys behind, we're going to the banquet hall," he whispers to you. You make an effort to agree with him with a gentle smile and a subtle nod. You turn and follow William down the path into the hall, steel-blue gazes lingering on you until you disappear completely from his view.

Entering the banquet hall, you are led to a table where influential elite are gathered. An interplay of cigar smoke and the amber swirl of whiskey dances through the air. Laughter resounds like a melody, even if some of the banter is not particularly sophisticated. The tightness in your chest almost incessantly present.

From time to time you eat a snack from your plate and occasionally take a delicate sip of wine, but the moments drag on like an eternity. The steel-blue eyes do not leave your thoughts. At some point you are so absorbed that you no longer notice much of the conversations around you.

"What do you think of that?" William asks you suddenly. You look at him a little startled, "Apologise. What did you mean?" you ask him.

"Little silly... Caught up in your thoughts again...", he chuckles lightly.

"George here just had the idea that it would be a wonderful idea to join the sailors on the ship for a day," William says to you.

"Why would that be?" it slips out. William laughs lightly and the other men agree.

"Well, so that we can show that the elite care about these men," William answers your question.

You look at him. You have little to no desire to spend time on a ship. But you smile slightly and nod slightly.

"Excuse me," you say quietly and stand up from the table. With purposeful steps you walk towards the bar as a slight ache returns to your chest, almost overwhelming in its intensity, seeking comfort. The bartender greets you with a warm smile and your request for a martini is effortlessly fulfilled. Conversation is minimal, words an unnecessary bridge to your needs.

As the martini stands before you, embodying in its clear form the calm you wish to feel within you, you do not hesitate for long. With practised ease, you lift the glass and its contents find refuge within you in a single, deliberate movement. You pinch your eyes shut briefly as the liquid fire flows down your throat, leaving a stimulating trail in its wake.

As you awaken from this fleeting reverie, you become aware of a presence beside you. A subtle jolt of surprise runs through you, only to be quickly replaced by recognition - those steel blue eyes, captivating and familiar, are upon you again. A soft blush adorns your cheeks once more, accompanied by a barely audible clearing of the throat, a modest attempt to regain your composure in the face of this unexpected encounter.

"Hello, love...", he says in his deep voice, "... I'm Tom," he smiles at you.

You can't help but surrender to his voice. A smile spreads across your face.

His gaze bores into yours again and he too begins to smile. Only his seems to be surrounded by a lightness.

"Don't ya want to tell me your name?" he finally says.

You chuckle lightly and shake your head gently.

"Excuse me. Hello Tom, I'm y/n," you finally say.

His smile widens and exposes his slightly crooked teeth. His smile makes you feel warmth in your chest where otherwise there is only room for the usual heaviness.

"Hello y/n. And... ya like to drink alone?", he asks you without his gaze leaving you.

Your gaze goes from his smile back to his eyes, "Well... Sometimes that is the only thing that helps you," you say honestly and order another drink.

Tom watches you intently, his gaze fixed on the fine furrow in your brow and the heaviness that envelops your smile. The fact that your smile does not reach your eyes strikes him almost immediately. Clearly a weight rests on your thoughts. He chooses silence rather than words, however, and lets his attentive gaze rest on you.

As you also take your next drink almost in one go, Tom reacts gently yet firmly as you put the glass down. He grabs your hand, an unspoken invitation for you to follow him. A shock of surprise runs through you, but the alcohol in your veins transforms your reaction into an unexpected giggle.

Amidst the pulsating rhythm of the dance floor, he brings you to a standstill. Couples sway and spin around you, a sea of movement and you in the midst of it. You can't help but smile, and your joy is reflected in Tom's expression. His hand is on your hip, and his other hand tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours.

"What are you doing?" you ask quietly, but still smiling.

"Well... love... I think it's called dancing," he says cheekily as he begins to lead you across the dance floor.

Enveloped in an irrepressible lightness, your laughter blends in harmoniously. His steps, which deviate from the usual dance steps, find a unique cadence that stages a dance all its own. Amidst the elegance emanating from the neighbouring couples, your finesse may differ, but with each passing moment, his rhythm becomes a familiar melody for you.

A perpetual grin adorns Tom's face, proof of the joy that unites you in this improvised waltz you dance together. With each successive step, the distance between you decreases and the feeling of his touch makes its way through your bodies like a gentle current. The longer the dance goes on, the more its warmth becomes an embrace that you long for. The outside world no longer exists for you.

But like a curtain falling over a fleeting act, the pleasure is abruptly interrupted. Unexpectedly, William appears in front of you and interrupts the enchanting choreography.

"Y/n. What are you doing?" he asks you, without even giving Tom a glance.

"Well... I think it's called dancing," you say before you realise how cheeky your answer is. The alcohol and Tom's lightness rubbing off on you make you answer.

William looks at you, doesn't make a face. But suddenly a small smile appears on his lips, but you know that smile.

"Of course..." is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you along. You cast a fleeting glance over your shoulder and see Tom looking after you, his steel-blue eyes gazing at you almost longingly. In this quick moment, you don't get a chance to say goodbye.

As your attention returns to William, you realise that his gaze is fixed firmly on you, an intensity that makes you shudder.

"You will not disrespect me like that again, is that clear?" he hisses in your ear as he pulls you closer to him.

"You can't just dance with the pack!" he adds.

You glare at him as he literally pulls you outside and comes to a stop.

"You want to spend a day on the ship with this pack, but I can't dance with this pack?" you ask him.

Your head flies to the side as you feel the blow against your cheek. A beeping sounds in your ear and you gasp slightly. Your eyes are squeezed shut and tears rise almost simultaneously, but you try to ignore the pain.

"Do you want to offer yourself as a whore because you disagree with something?" he hisses at you.

Your cheek throbs and you have trouble following William's words. You hold your cheek with your hand, hoping that the pain will subside. Slowly you turn your gaze back to William.

"I will not tolerate my wife behaving like this. And you will obey me," he almost shouts at you, emphasising every word with his raised index finger pointed at you. You say nothing, not a word passes your lips. You just nod slightly, your hand still on your cheek.

Silently, William leads you to the car, his grip tight and locked around your upper arm. He literally barks at the smoking driver that he wants a ride home immediately.

Your cheeks are on fire, the blow leaves a rosy hue, and your tears, by now running down your cheek, give your skin an almost glistening touch.

A heavy silence prevails the whole time, and you do not perceive a single word from William's lips. When you arrive at the house, you retreat to your room without many words. Seeking refuge from his presence that night.

Nestled in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, your gaze rises to the ceiling as your thoughts weave a tapestry of memories. Your mind wanders to Tom - his laughing gestures, the way his touch ignited as he led you across the dance floor. The abrupt end, heralded by William. You roll onto your side and snuggle against your pillow, its soft embrace giving you comfort. But before you can think about it further, sleep envelops you and takes hold of your consciousness.

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Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @bellaisasleep @snh96

#tom bennett #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fluff #world on fire #lois bennett #ewan mitchell #hotd #tom bennett x reader #tom bennet x reader #ewan nation #tom bennett x ofc

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yuhi-san · 5 months

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The fact that vash doesn’t age and will outlive anyone, including any possible love interest, is something that shapes him and the way he interacts with others. Its tragic. Knowing that even if no violent death comes for them, he will watch them get old, remain the same himself and outlive them.

But while writing my fanfic, I thought but what was before that? Like in stampede, vash came to live on ship three when he was still a young child.

They knew absolutely nothing about independent plants. They had no idea about tesla, no access to any records. All they knew was what vash could tell them. (that he was born less than two years ago and apparently went from newborn to young child in that time. That he had a brother but unlike said brother he couldn’t create anything.)

And that’s the thing. They knew vash looked, ate, bleed, hurt and generally appeared far more human than plantlike except for the fact that he grew so fast. It did slow down some because in 5 years on ship three he went from young child to young teen. Still maturing faster than a human would.

At some point he would have become an adult. But at what point did they realize he was not only physically fully matured but did not age further? Like talking as someone who was regularly mistaken to be in my late teens until at least my mid to late twenties, how long did it take for anyone, vash included, to realize his body didn’t age anymore? I don’t think they really had any reason to expect vash life span to be that much longer than a humans. They had nothing to go on when it came to figuring out what his deal was and neither did vash really.

In fact, what was before that turning point when they realized vash was no longer changing?

He grew from a newborn to a young child in less than two years. From a young child to a teen in roughly five years. Asides from his plant healing ability, vash was painfully human in most ways but matured so much faster. Did luida, brad and the others worry about what that meant for vash? Did they wonder if it meant that he would die young, maybe just after 20 years or so? Like a cat that is fully grown and all by two years, in contrast to a human baby, but will likely not make it past 20. Were they worried that vash rapid maturing would also mean rapid aging, rapid dying, like a human live condensed into a forth or so? Was there a time when they realized vash wasn’t rapidly aging anymore but at some point the relief about that must have turned into a new kind of concern. If vash stopped aging completely, for how long would that be the case? How long would he live if nothing cut his life short. What would it mean for his mind and soul?

Yes vash is an independent plant rather than a human but one of the things that sets him apart from his dependent sisters is in fact his mind. That he has a sense of self, more conscious, complete thoughts and feelings as an individual. Vash is mentally very human, especially because he clings to said humanity a lot (in contrast to knives).

But humans and their mind aren’t really made for immortality or such an extended lifespan. And plants normally don’t have the same sense of self and awareness and interpersonal connection. So as the bridge between plants and humans, where does that leave vash with this?

#trigun #trigun stampede #trimax #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #trigun brad #trigun luida #ship three trigun #trigun meta

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recurring-polynya · 9 months

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Do you think Byakuya had any special advice for Rukia after she was suggested as Captain of the 13th after the war?

I think that when Byakuya was a lieutenant, he didn't get a ton of leeway, it was Ginrei's way or the highway (or as Ginrei put it, you think you're smarter than twenty-seven generations of Kuchiki?) So every time he thought of a better way to do something and wasn't allowed to try, he wrote it down, a record of all the good ideas he wasn't allowed to have.

A few years passed and a wedding too and Byakuya's notes on How to Be a Good Lieutenant turned from a pissy burnbook into a hopeful letter to his someday successor.

When it became obvious that the successor was not a thing that was happening, Byakuya took a break from the notes for a bit. He made captain, and then he could do everything exactly the way he wanted, but at that point he wasn't interested in writing things down or really thinking too hard about anything at all.

Much, much later, he acquired a lieutenant who had a lot of ideas about how things should be done. Byakuya let him try them even when he knew they would turn out badly, partially to spite Ginrei, and partially because he enjoyed watching his lieutenant get hoist by his own petard (which didn't happen nearly as often as Byakuya predicted it would). Sometimes, Byakuya had an opinion on the ideas that he didn't actually want to say out loud, so he wrote it down, usually starting with "When you are a captain..."

There was a war, which they won, but it occurred to Byakuya that captains don't last forever, so his "when you are a captain" letters became less personal improvement advice and more "please take care of this when I no longer can." Also, he started keeping them filed neatly and in order and told a few people where he kept them, so that they could eventually be delivered, if it became necessary.

Despite the fact that Captain Ukitake was centuries his senior, Byakuya had never really considered the possibility of outliving him. What even was the Gotei--what even was Soul Society--without Ukitake?

No one could ever replace Ukitake, which is why Rukia was a fine choice, in Byakuya's opinion. Rukia was her own, a replacement for no one.

The evening after she passed her preliminary qualification exam and was named interim captain, she confessed to him that she felt a little nervous about it. "Do you have any advice?" she asked.

"I am always here, should you have questions about specific matters of paperwork and procedure," he told her. "But I think that being a captain is simply something you have to figure out as you go."

#byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #is this...microfiction?#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#idk what came over me 😂

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catofadifferentcolor · 1 year

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Terrible Fic Idea #31: A Maiden Dark and Fair, but make it f!Jon Snow/Jon Arryn

Perhaps I've just not searched the darkest depths of AO3, but I've seen relatively few fics where it's The Vale that's key to Jon Snow gaining the Iron Throne. There are tons where he relies upon the might of The North, more than a few that join or replace it with The Westerlands or The Reach or even The Crownlands, but almost none where the primary stepping stone to the throne is the might of The Vale.

And because I have a slight obsession with female Jon Snow fics, my mind immediately went to what if Jon Arryn, in need of an heir, married f!Jon Snow?

Just imagine it:

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an unmarried lord of a Great House, must be in want of a wife - and Jon Arryn is facing the end of his house if he doesn't produce an heir.

But now he's outlived three wives. Marrying a girl as young as Lysa was a mistake, but even he couldn't see his third wife throwing herself and her only living child out of the Moon Door after she was discovered to be cuckolding him with Peter Baelish.

And so, thrice widowed and eight decades old, Jon Arryn must marry and produce an heir before he dies lest The Vale tear itself apart over succession.

Shortly after Jon Arryn comes to this decision, he receives a letter from his foster son, Ned Stark, sharing all the usual information and expressing deep concern for his bastard daughter, Serena Snow, whom he fears his wife will force to marry the first man who asks for her hand just to get her out of Winterfell.

Jon Arryn, seeing a solution present itself, asks to marry Serena himself.

It is, perhaps, a stupid decision for the Hand of the King and Defender of the Vale to wed his foster son's bastard daughter. Except: 1) There are very few potential brides from the Vale he can chose without offending a significant faction of his bannermen, and those that remain are still objectionable for one reason or another; 2) Lingering resentment from the Rebellion means that no lord from Dorne, The Westerlands, or The Reach would offer their daughter to Jon Arryn, even if he's the Hand of the King; and 3) Of the remaining kingdoms, Ned Stark's bastard might very well be the best choice if he wants a wife from a large family of some standing with a decent head on her shoulders.

Plus, Jon Arryn genuinely feels guilty that he wasn't able to do more to prevent the Rebellion. He feels that it's partially his fault that Ned wasn't able to wed Ashara Dayne, Serena's presumed mother, and thus his fault the girl is a bastard to begin with.

The result is the same: Serena Snow becomes the fourth Lady Arryn of the Eyrie.

It is a remarkably successful marriage, given that Jon Arryn would be of age with Serena's great-grandfather had he lived. Other than the requisite attempts for heirs, they live more like uncle and niece than husband and wife. This is in part helped by Jon Arryn's role as Hand, which keeps him in King's Landing most the year, while Serena stays in the Eyrie managing the Vale in his stead.

Before his death, they have three girls: twins, Emma and Elys, and little Elena, who was no more than twenty-four hours old before a raven arrived from King's Landing saying her father was found dead in his bed.

And so as we come upon the events of canon, Serena Arryn, 18, is now a widow of a Great House and regent to her two-year-old daughter, Lady Emma Arryn.

In her time as Lady of the Vale, Serena has made herself beloved by the banners and commons alike by the simple act of being present. There hasn't been a Lady Arryn in The Vale for any significant amount of time in decades. Add to that Serena has a good head on her shoulders and support from The North and The Riverlands through her family ties and, well, she's much more secure in her position than Lysa was in canon.

As for what follows, I see the real meat of the story taking place after Serena is widowed - in fact, I see the message that her husband is dead being the opening scene of this theoretical fic. Rather than exploring the dynamics of a May-December relationship, it's about being a young mother and widow - about being a young woman in a more-or-less secure position of power, growing into that power, and coming of age despite being a mother thrice over already.

There's politics in the background, of course, with Ned unfortunately losing his head in King's Landing - but here Serena throws the weight of The Vale behind Robb early on and is on scene to provide much needed, peer-to-peer advice. This keeps the Red Wedding from happening, either by forcing Robb to keep his betrothal or keeping Catelyn from making it in the first place.

Additionally, the strength of The Vale makes The Reach decide throw their lot in with Robb rather than Joffrey after Renly is killed. As part of this, Serena agrees to marry Garlan Tyrell.

The combined forces of The North, The Riverlands, The Vale, The Reach - and those parts of the Stormlands that didn't go over to Stannis after Renly's death - defeat Joffrey.

Stannis holes up inside Dragonstone, in largely the same position Queen Rhaella was tactically shortly before her death. The island is eventually stormed and he choses to burn rather than be captured.

Shireen, the only legitimate Baratheon left alive, is made Lady of Storm's End. Robb, never raised to kingship, goes back to Winterfell. Jaime, never released from captivity, is sent to the Wall. Tyrion gets Casterly Rock - and marries Sansa Stark, which to everyone's surprise is one of the most successful marriages of the age.

And the Iron Throne? The next male-line claimant is Doran Martell, through his distant grandmother Daenerys, daughter of Aegon IV. Few would accept that, especially if he refuses to leave Dorne and abdicates in favor of his brother Oberyn. Robb could claim it by force, but he has no desire to rule and not even his allied Great Houses would accept that.

Except, while all of this has been going on, Serena has quietly learned the truth of her heritage - and the secret has slowly made itself known despite her best efforts otherwise. (I'm inclined to say she becomes the Mother of Dragons, finding a cache of dragon eggs either in the Eyrie from Daella Targaryen's time or in the crypts of Winterfell.)

Plus, Serena has distinguished herself as Lady and Regent of The Vale. During the war, all of Robb's allies saw how she was his most trusted advisor - and how it was she who brought The Reach into the fold, and negotiated peace with Tyrion. And The Reach has always wanted their blood on the throne.

And so Serena becomes Queen of The Seven Kingdoms as Visenya Targaryen I. Her eldest daughter, Emma, remains ruling Lady Paramount of the Vale. Her children with Garlan Tyrell take the Targaryen name, with the eldest named heir to the Iron Throne.

Bonuses include: 1) Catelyn and Serena fighting like cats and dogs at all opportunities, for all the expected reasons. This reaches peak drama around the time Catelyn tries to release Jaime Lannister as in canon, only for Serena to prevent it. They eventually reach an accord, dealer's choice how grudging it is. 2) So much family bonding. As Robb's alliance is basically held together through his mother and sister's marriages, it is family drama to the utmost degree. To which end, Robb is a doting uncle and Garlan a beloved stepfather to Serena's daughters. 3) Realistic travel times, depictions of the difficulties of medieval travel, and the breathless liberation of flying on dragon back and overcoming it all.

And that is... surprisingly more than I thought I had. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #female jon snow #jon arryn #jon snow is a targaryen

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

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Anyrhing for a roach birthday drabble bc 1. I love the angst and 2. I wanna eat your writing

OKAY ITS FINISHED NOW YOU GUYS CAN READ IT

Idk if this is very angsty but I'm sure you can eat it if you try hard enough :)

"I'm giving you a heads up, they're throwing you a surprise party."

If Roach could have, he would have shot up in his bed. Unfortunately the still stinging injuries around his chest and abdomen prevented that. He settled for giving back a quick word of, "What! I told them I didn't want a party!"

He could hear Jackson give a faint chuckle over the line, "To be fair to them, I think its only supposed to by family plus me, but your mom did call it a party."

Roach gave a groan, "That means they're going to make a big deal out of it."

"Yep," Jackson playfully popped the p in the word. Roach could practically hear his grin through the phone. "Hey, it could be fun. Big number thirty one, thats a big deal isn't it?"

Roach shifted a bit in his bed, his chest constricting as he thought about Jackson's words. The man was right, it technically was a big birthday for him, though only the two of them knew it. Number thirty one, it meant that he'd officially outlived his first life. Despite the fact that it should have made him happy, all that it actually made him want to do was curl up in a ball and cry.

He remembered Jackson's twenty seventh birthday, when he'd officially outlived his first life. His friend had appeared mostly fine at the beginning of the night, but at the mini celebration that Roach had held for him, he'd gotten himself drunk.

He remembered that day clearly in his mind. Jackson had stormed around his house in a drunken stupor, tearing up any of his military things that he could. Roach had done what he could to control the damage, but in the end he hadn't been able to do much.

The night had ended with his friend sobbing into his arms until he'd passed out. Roach was hoping to avoid a similar fate, which was why he'd asked for only a small celebration. Not a party. A party made things more real.

"Hey," Jackson's voice was soft through the phone, "You know I'll be there. I'll help divert attention away and give you an excuse for a break if you need it. You won't be alone on this."

"I know," Roach commented quietly, "I know. It just," he gave a deep sigh, "its just a lot to deal with."

Jackson was quiet for a moment, "Would it help if I invited the 141?" There was a pause, "Your mom hasn't invited them, I'm sure she'll be pissed at me but hey, its your party, not hers."

"Its her house though," Roach commented quietly.

"We can keep them in the yard," Jackson's voice took on a teasing tone, "Should be a nice day, I'm sure they won't mind."

Roach gave a small snort, feeling his chest lighten up slightly with his friends teasing, "You just want to invite them so you can see Gaz again."

Jackson gave a gasp, "I am deeply offended by that Roach. How could you think that?"

"Because it's the truth," Roach called over the phone. "My brother will be heart broken, devastated. He's still claiming that Soap and Ghost are acting and not actually my boyfriends." Calling Soap and Ghost his boyfriends made his heart flutter a bit and he felt a grin tug at his lips.

"I've broken his heart by not actually dating you."

"And taken a lot of stress off of Eddie," Roach teased the man, "He's been trying to convince me to break up with you for years now."

"He'll be happy to see the 141 then, I'll bring them along. I'm sure Ghost and Soap will be more than happy to get to cuddle up to you for a bit." And that was that. If Roach was going to have to sit through a surprise party, he could at least do it with his friends.

Just as Jackson had warned him, when his birthday came around it was clear to see that his family were planning something. His sister-in-laws had obviously been tasked with keeping him out of the house until things were ready.

They'd woken him up early in the morning to drag him to one of the local restaurants in town for breakfast. He'd eaten his food rather fast, but they'd taken an almost ridiculous amount of time to finish theirs off. After that, they'd taken him to one of the small strip malls that their town had, forcing him to walk around with them for hours.

If he hadn't known about the party from Jackson, and hadn't picked it up from their odd behavior, the ride back home certainly would have told him that something was going on. Alice and Melissa spent almost the entire ride sharing secretive excited glances with one another and asking him if he was ready for his birthday "dinner."

Luckily nothing that he'd done with the women was too overwhelming, but he did find an oddly sickening feeling that had formed in his stomach. He'd tried to keep his mind off of the fact that he had now officially outlived his first life, but it was rather hard to do.

He nearly rolled his eyes when they got to the house again. Jackson and the 141 hadn't even tried to hide their vehicles and the thought nearly made him laugh. He managed to keep it down to nothing more than an amused smile as Melissa and Alice helped him back into the house.

As soon as he stepped inside he was met with shouts of "happy birthday!" from all around him. He was certainly a little upset at his mother for throwing him a party, despite his desire not to have one, but he couldn't control the bit of delighted laughter that erupted from his mouth when he spotted his team.

His mother had clearly made everyone put on the hats, but it didn't stop him from enjoying the sight of each of the usually gruff and tough military men wearing bright green cone party hats on their heads.

He could see his mothers bright grin in response to his laughter and he couldn't help but meet her with a smile. Surely he could handle a party if the 141 and Jackson were there to help distract him.

"Happy birthday, baby!" His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I know you said no parties, but I figured a small get together couldn't hurt anything."

"Thank you, mom," he gave her a small smile. A moment after and there was a hand ruffling at his hair. "Hey!" He made a swipe at the limb, turning to pout at Jonathan.

"Happy birthday, little man. What are you now, 20?" Roach rolled his eyes at his brothers words. He sounded far too much like their grandpa used to around their birthdays.

"Alright, grandpa," he playfully shoved him away.

"Hey now," Jonathan warned, "you may be military but I'll still put you in a headlock!"

"You better not," That was Eddie's concerned voice from across the room, "If you rip his stitches Jonathan, I swear to god!"

"It was only a joke Eds," Jonathan gave his younger brother a grin.

"It better be," Eddie grumbled out. He turned his attention to Roach with a small smile, "Happy birthday, bubs."

Roach gave him a quick flash of a grin, "Thanks Eds."

"Alright," his mother clapped her hands together, catching everyone's attention, "Let's move out to the backyard with the kids. I have all the food and gifts and everything set up out there!" Roach wanted to complain about the gifts, but a quick look from his father had him shutting his mouth with a start. There really had been no need for anyone to get him a gift.

He gave a small huff, but quickly his mind moved away from the topic, instead focusing on his team. He used the momentary chaos of everyone shuffling to the backyard as a chance to make his way over to the men. "Thank you guys for coming, I hope my mom didn't give too much trouble."

"She, uh," Gaz glanced at Jackson nervously, "actually didn't seem too surprised to see us. It was like she was expecting Jackson to invite us, though she did chew him out good for not telling her."

Jackson waved him off before pointing at the group and meeting Roach's eyes with a smirk, "They've experienced a southern mothers anger now, needless to say they're scared shitless." Roach couldn't help but snicker at his words.

"Well, I appreciate you guys enduring it for me. I am really glad that you guys are here," he gave the group a smile. His words were the truth. Just their presence seemed to help calm down the sickness that had been pooling in his stomach.

"Course, son," Price slapped his arm slightly, giving him a smile, "c'mon, we'd better move outside before anyone notices we're missing."

The group moved together, Roach found himself settled between Ghost and Soap as they provided him a careful hand to help him outside. "Glad you guys are here," Roach muttered to them quietly as they walked. He gave their hands that were clasped in his own a short squeeze.

"Course, Bug," Simon spoke softly, his voice only slightly muffled by the face mask that he wore.

"Happy birthday," Soap added a moment later, giving him a small peck on the cheek after saying the words. Roach felt his heart fluttering in his chest. Perhaps the day wouldn't be so bad.

"Uncle Gary look! I'm so tall!" Roach couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips, absolute delight filling his chest as he watched the scene in front of him.

Soap and Ghost had been rather quickly commandeered by his nephews and nieces as soon as they'd made their appearance outside. The two men had barely been allowed to eat before one of his nieces was tugging at Soap's shirt and demanding that he put her on his shoulders. Soap, despite the calls from Jonathan and Melissa that he didn't have to, had agreed. Ghost had fallen into a similar fate moments later and Roach had been watching the two be used as climbing posts for the past half an hour.

His nieces and nephews had been constructing an elaborate story around the two men as well. Apparently they were giants from a kingdom in the midst of a civil war and now we're being ridden into battle by their fierce leaders. Which essentially meant that the two men were allowing two of his nieces to play sword fight while on their shoulders. They each had a child around their legs as well, the children giggling as they were lifted into the air with each step. The sight of it all had nearly bowled Roach over with how adorable it was.

His family members had seemed content to just watch the show, occasionally calling out teasing remarks before going back to simple conversation. Roach had noticed that Gaz and Jackson seemed quite occupied with one another. Jackson had managed to pull several fits of laughter from Gaz and, based on the grins on their faces, Roach could assume that things were going well for his two friends.

After several more moments of watching the pretend war between his nieces and nephews and his boyfriends, Roach had turned away briefly, just long enough to request that someone fill up his cup for him and observe the breakout of conversation at the table. Gaz and Jackson were speaking with one another quietly and it seemed like Price had found himself in a conversation with his parents, from the smile on his parents faces he could assume it was going well. As per usual, his brothers and their wives were chatting in a group together.

He gave a small smile over the rim of his cup when it was handed back to him, it was so nice to finally get to spend some time with his family. And it was nice to see that his team seemed to be getting along with them well.

There was a tug on his shirt that interrupted his train of thought. He turned to look down, his eyes meeting the mischievous grin of Marie, Jonathan's youngest, and Kinsley, Eddie's six year old. "Hey girls," he gave them a small smile, "What are you up to? I trust nothing bad?"

The two girls glance at each other, some form of silent communication passing between them. After a moment, Marie looked back to him with a smile, "Uncle Gary, will you play with us?"

Roach gave a sad sigh, "I'm sorry girls, I would love to but I'm not supposed to be moving around." He glanced up at Eddie before back down to the girls, "I think your daddy would be very mad at me if I tried to Kinsley."

"You don't have to move!" Kinsley told him excitedly, "We want you to be the princess!"

"Princess?" Roach had to hide his laughter behind his hand, "thats all?" He didn't quite believe the girls and their little giggles when he asked told him that they had something else in mind for him.

"Thats all!" Marie confirmed with a toothy grin. It was quite adorable as she was missing one of her front teeth, having lost it only a week ago. She'd shown it off to everyone proudly as well as the dollar that the tooth fairy had left her.

"Alright," Roach agreed with a smile. He would take whatever else they had planned for him, surely it couldn't be too bad. "I'll be the princess then."

"Yes!" The two girls said nothing else to him before taking off running over to where several of their siblings and cousins were waiting so that they could whisper to them excitedly. It only made Roach more suspicious of their plans.

He turned, watching them quietly. After a moment, the group scattered, running back over to Soap and Ghost. His nieces and nephews who had been around the men's ankles had moved off to join the chatting group, so all his nieces had to to was gain Soap and Ghosts attention. "Hey! Hey! Put them down we have an announcement." Roach watched Marie stamp her foot at the two men, her face serious.

As they were told, Soap and Ghost released the two children that were on their shoulders. Marie pushed them apart, stepped between them with a bright grin before beginning to yell, "People of Dinosauratopia!" Roach covered his mouth again, trying not to laugh. His nieces yelling had caught the attention of everyone at the table and he could hear the conversation behind him fall silent with a chuckle, "We have an announcement to make! The terms of the war have changed! This fight is now between the giants alone!" She motioned to Soap, "Sir Sudsy!" Then to Ghost, "and Sir Simon!"

Even from his distance away, Roach could hear Soap grumbling about having been called "Sir Sudsy" while Ghost got to use his actual name. It pulled yet another laugh from his lips. He felt like his face might split apart with how much he'd been grinning.

"Now thats a fight I can get behind!" Jonathan called out playfully from the table, "For the betterment of Dinosauratopia of course." His words pulled laughter from the entire group.

"The prize!" His niece called out with a bright grin, catching everyone's attention again, "The winner will be gifted with a kiss from the princess!" Roach felt his face go bright red. So this was what his nieces had been plotting. Marie paused to run over to him, pointing up at him with glee for Soap and Ghost, "If you win! The princess will give you a kiss!"

Soap shot him a bright grin, amusement in his eyes, "Oh my, what a prize that is. I'll have to win, apologies Sir Simon." He gave a teasing wink to Ghost who merely rolled his eyes at him.

"Sir Sudsy," Ghost spoke flatly, "I'm afraid I can't let you win."

"A challenge!" Marie cackled from next to him, excitedly jumping up onto the bench, "Everyone gather around and witness the fight of a life time!" Roach wanted to comment that Jonathan had clearly been letting her watch too much wrestling, but he didn't get a chance as she continued, "Begin your fight men! Me and my army," she motioned to her siblings and cousins, "will guard the princess until a victor has been declared. Fight, fight, fight!"

Roach was more than a little curious on how the two men intended to fight each other. After all, he could assume that they wouldn't just start sparring in his families backyard. Or at least he hoped they wouldn't.

He was pleasantly surprised when the men simply locked arms and began to wrestle at one another, clearly overexaggerating their movements in a show for the now cheering children. Behind him, Roach could hear Jonathan give a cheer as well.

"Should we take bets," Jonathan called, "I think we should take bets."

"Five on Simon," Price called playfully, "If you want to lose your money."

"You're on," Jonathan called. "Let's go Sir Sudsy! Get him! Choke him out!"

A moment later and Marie copied her fathers words, "Get him! Choke him out!!" Roach couldn't help but laugh at the adorable display.

The two men wrestled playfully for several minutes before finally Ghost was able to pull Soap into a headlock, ruffling his hair playfully until Soap was calling out an over exaggerated, "Mercy! Mercy!"

Ghost released Soap just as Marie called out, "We have a winner! Sir Simon has won the war of Dinosauratopia and the love of the Princess!" She ran over to Ghost, grabbing his hand and tugging him over to where Roach was sitting. She motioned between the two with a bright grin, "Claim your prize Sir Simon!"

Roach could feel his face heat up again. Ghost gave a rumbling, low chuckle at his nieces words before leaning down, tugging his facemask down just enough that he could press their lips together in a short, but sweet kiss. Roach gave him a grin when he pulled away, unable to contain the adoration on his face.

A moment later and he heard a dramatic cry from Soap. He turned to see the man with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, "I am heart broken! My chest, ah! What is this pain! I must be dying!" There was a gasp and suddenly three of Roach's nieces, including Marie, were surrounding Soap.

"No, Sir Sudsy!"

"I think," Soap gave a fake cough, " the only thing that could cure me is a kiss from the princess!" Roach could hear his family snickering behind him, he didn't care.

"Quickly then!" Marie started pulling Soap toward him, "Princess you must kiss Sir Sudsy! Its the only thing that could save his life."

Roach was sure he had a goofy grin on his face as he responded, "Quickly then, my good sir. We must save your life!"

"Indeed!" Soap leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth, this one a slight bit longer than the one he and Simon had shared. The man pulled back after a moment, a bright grin on his face, "I am cured! Thank you, Princess!"

Soap and Ghost were allowed to finally sit down not long after that, his brothers wrangling their children into their own seats to force them to eat. Roach was pressed between the two men on the bench, his head leaned against Soap's shoulder while his hand was clasped tightly together with Simon's under the table. He was listening to his family chat around him. He'd never felt quite so content before. Any anxiety he'd felt about the day had all but disappeared.

It was an important birthday for him. A terrifying one. One that had threatened to send him down a road of panic and hurt. He was more than happy to have Ghost and Soap there, providing him a barrier from that. He knew they didn't know. It didn't mean that they hadn't helped him.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by his mothers excited clapping, "Alright, I've waited long enough! Its gift time!"

Roach gave a small groan from his place against Soap's shoulder. He'd felt close to passing out from how warm and happy he'd felt in the position. "You guys shouldn't have gotten me anything." He pushed himself to sit up.

"Nonsense!" His mother called as she loaded the, frankly, giant pile of presents onto the table in front of him.

"Oh my god," Roach looked at everything with furrowed brows, "What the fuck, why are there so many?"

He felt Soap wince next to him and he looked over to meet the man's sheepish gaze, "Ghost and I may have went a bit overboard."

His head whipped back and forth between the two men for several moments, "You guys-?" He let out an undignified squeak. It was a bit overwhelming for him to know that the two men had apparently gotten him so many gifts.

"Alright," his mother grinned at him brightly, "Lets start with these. Here is the one from your dad and I!" She handed him one of the larger boxes in the pile, he took it from her hesitantly.

He stared at it for a moment, mentally psycing himself up as he looked at it. He hated opening presents in front of people. He always felt worried that he would give the wrong reaction and hurt someone's feelings.

After several moments of quiet staring, he reached up and started to slowly peel the paper away from the gift inside. Pleasant surprise filled his chest as he looked at the gift in front of him. They'd bought him a Polaroid camera. He could feel his mouth quirk up into a grin as he looked at it closer. "We know your old one broke a while back, so we thought we'd buy you a new one. That way you can start sending us pictures again and you can take some for yourself."

Roach had kept a small Polaroid camera with him during his first few years in the military. He almost always had it with him, ready to snap a quick picture of himself or something he saw so that he could send it home to his parents. His first camera was why he had almost an entire photo album worth of embarrassing pictures of Jackson. His camera had broken during his first year with the demon dogs and he hadn't gotten a chance to buy himself another one.

The thought of getting to take pictures again, of himself, of Jackson, and of the 141, made his chest feel warm. "Thank you," he gave his parents a bright grin.

"Damn," Jackson muttered out, "After all the trouble I went through to get rid of the first one," he joked.

"Watch your back Jackson," Roach responded, "Those embarrassing pictures of you are going to start rolling through again. Who knows, I might even share them with the team." He made a point to look at Gaz specifically as he spoke. Jackson answered him with a groan.

Roach continued through the presents, opening everything gratefully. He'd received gift cards from his brothers, their usual gifts to him. Jackson had wrapped up his, now repaired, scarf as well as gifted him a rather large crocheted blanket that he'd made with his grandmother. Price had given him a rather nice bottle of wine and Gaz had put together a large box with a variety of snacks and candy inside. All that was left were the several small to medium sized gifts in front of him, all apparently from Soap and Ghost.

He looked at the pile of gifts, trying to decide where to start. "Any that I need to open first?" He tilted his head at the gifts, eyeing one in particular.

"No," Soap still sounded a bit guilty, "any order, Bug."

Roach reached for one of the gifts, grabbing the one that looked and felt like a book in his hands. He could handle a book. It would be a good start. He carefully pulled the wrapping of the paper from around it, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he took in the leather-bound journal that rested in his hands. It was clearly a nice thing, likely expensive based on the feel of the leather. Emblazoned on the front of it was a beetle, golden paint outlining it clearly from where it was indented into the material.

"Thought you might like one," Soap spoke lowly, "I hope you don't mind, but I started it for you." Roach tilted his head at him, unbinding the journal so that he could flip to the first page. He felt a grin cross his face. Soap had drawn a little sketch of the three of them together. He carefully closed the journal, wrapping the leather cord that held it closed around it tightly before turning to place a kiss to Soap's cheek. He turned to do the same to Ghost a moment later, "Thank you two, I love it."

He turned back to the table, feeling his face heat up a bit as he realized just how many more things he was going to have to open. It was going to be a process.

By the time Roach had opened his last gift from Soap and Ghost, he was exhausted. He was thankful to the two men, but very exhausted. Everything that they'd gotten him had pulled a grin to his face, each of the gifts making his heart flutter in his chest. There was the customized knife, one that fit well enough within the regulations that he'd be able to take it into the field with him. A small journal filled with drawings that Soap had done for him. A little tea set, with a tea infuser that he could use to make his own blends and dip into his mug. An adorable mug to go with it (it had little frogs and bugs glazed onto the sides). Then there was a new jacket, warm and tactical enough that it could go into the field with him as well. A cute little skull necklace. A gift card to his favorite ice cream place near base. A new bat plush for his collection. A nice pair of obviously expensive sunglasses. A little leather corded bracelet with a metal piece attached that had a little engraved message from the two men on it. It was needless to say, that they'd gone all out with his gifts. It was both adorable and overwhelming for him.

Still, it didn't stop him from sending them a beaming grin with every gift that he opened. It also didn't stop him from, hours later, being wrapped up on the couch inside with his new bat plush tucked against his chest as he snuggled up to the two men.

His family were milling about the house, things winding down as they put left over food up and chatted idly with one another. Roach knew it was late. He knew that the 141 would be leaving soon. He didn't want Soap and Ghost to go.

"Stay the night," he muttered into Ghost's chest. He could feel the rumbles of laughter from both Soap and Ghost at his request.

"You know we'd love too, Bug," Soap's hand stroked along his arm before landing temptingly on his thigh, "we would really love to."

"But your mother would likely kill us," Ghost finished for him, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm an adult," Roach whined low in his throat, "It's my birthday. She has to let you stay."

"I don't think thats how it works, Bug."

Roach pulled himself away from Ghosts chest, his face grumpy as he looked around the room blearily. He knew who would help him. "Jackson!" He called with a groan, "Come here for a second."

He didn't get a response, but a moment later and Jackson was standing in front of the group, a grin on his face. "What's up, buttercup!"

He seemed very cheery. Almost too cheery. Roach squinted at him, looking him up and down for a moment before asking, "Gaz invited you back to the hotel with him didn't he?" He could see the blush that rose to cover his friends cheeks and he could hear Soap snicker in the seat next to him. "I don't care," Roach raised a hand as Jackson opened his mouth to speak, "Good for you guys, I need you to do me a favor."

"Whats up?"

"I need you to get my mom to let Soap and Ghost stay the night with me." Roach tilted his head at the man, "I know its a hard ask, but-"

"Hard ask?" Jackson clicked his tongue, "Always doubting me Sanderson. I'm your mothers favorite child you know. I'll be right back." Just like that, Jackson disappeared into the kitchen.

"You think he'll actually get her to say yes?" Soap pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then his cheek, before finally bringing his hand to his mouth to begin pressing kisses there.

Roach shivered, feeling Ghost bury his face into his neck to begin placing kisses on the skin of his throat. "If anyone is going to get her to say yes, it'll be Jackson."

The three sat together, just sharing lazy kisses back and forth for nearly ten minutes before Jackson popped back into the room, a big grin on his face. "Am I the best friend in the world or what?"

"She said yes?" Ghost asked, surprise leaking into his voice.

"Just for the night," Jackson responded with a grin, "you'll have to leave in the morning and she said that you guys have to keep things quiet or she'll send you home early," he winked at them after the last part and Roach felt his face go warm. He couldn't find it in himself to care about his embarrassment though, not when he would get to have Soap and Ghost to himself for the entire night.

"You're amazing," he shot Jackson a grin, "thank you."

"Happy birthday," Jackson replied simply. He shot him another wink. "Have fun," he teased before leaving the room once again.

"Quick," Roach grinned at the men next to him, "upstairs before my mom changes her mind or one of my brothers notice."

"So eagar," Soap teased with a grin as he stood. The two men helped him from the seat, guiding him toward the stairs quietly. It was a miracle they made it up the stairs so quietly, especially with Soap's hands becoming more and more grabby the closer they got to Roach's room. Ghost was able to mostly control himself, though Roach did feel one of his hands sneak down for a quick grab of his ass as they walked.

Roach had been worried about his birthday. He'd been more stressed than he wanted to admit. But now, as he quietly closed the door to his room, feeling warm lips latch onto his neck and another pair of hands lovingly feel around his body, he couldn't even remember why he'd been worried.

#you asked luke #something in the orange #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #ghost x roach #ghostroach #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #soap x roach #soapghost #soaproach #soapghostroach #ghostroachsoap

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trashcatsnark · 5 months

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Wip Christmas Eve

Hewwo~ I was tagged by @nightcxty to share some WIPs a while back, I have finally done some writing I feel good about sharing so- have words~ TW: mentions of gore and blood

First WIP: Can You Feel The Sun- Chapter 85

“There is no Samurai without Silverhand,” Nancy says, V feeling a cocktail of melancholy and pride stirring in Johnny’s chest. His eyes staring at the back of Nancy’s seat. V’s hand finding his leg where his feet are propped up, squeezing the muscles there to provide a modicum of comfort or something. “Well, on the technical level- I’d be filling in for him.” “Hahaha... You?” “Kerry vetted me himself,” V assures her, “Know I don’t exactly seem to the type, but different person on stage- trust me. And sides, way I see it, concert would be Silverhand’s honor.” “That so, what's got into Kerry all of a sudden? Thought he got over this ages ago…” Nancy muses more to herself than to V. “I mean, maybe just the timing,” V suggests, shrugging her shoulders and trying to feign ignorance as she delicate tries to steer the conversation,”I mean, fuck- Silverhand’s birthday is right around the corner. Another life, another timeline- be turning 89 in just a few days.” “Swear to fuck, only number that sticks in your head is how old I’d be..” “Doubt it,” Nancy whispers, but there’s almost a breath of a laugh around her words, “Don’t think there’s anything that could have stopped that gonk from putting himself in an early grave. Hate to say it, but people like Johnny die young and they die violently, way of the world.” “What do you mean, people like Johnny?” “Should know, you’re one of ‘em after all,” Nancy mutters, eyes lingering where V bleeds against the leather. V swallows a lump in her throat that tastes like blood. She wonders how she must look to someone like Nancy. Dex’s old question, to burn out young and die without seeing thirty or to have a long quiet life. She said back then, all that time ago, that the world doesn’t give a choice. That she wasn’t meant to choose, that sometimes those on a long quiet like find their plans cut short by a single stray bullet. But she can’t deny that people like her, like Johnny, like Jackie, like Bug- they rarely get to see their hair turn gray. Nancy sits here, deep into her eighties with gray curls and soft wrinkles lining her face. She’s got her quiet life, she’s lived long enough to see her later years, made enough of a name and enough money to stay looking relatively young while doing it. And here’s V, freshly twenty-one, riddled with bullet holes and face a mess of bruises and blood. She’s lived on the brink of death since she was born, even if not for the relic- she’d probably find her end young. At the hands of a gang member, at the hands of her father, her sister, or any of the dangers that lurk in this city. She wonders how Nancy feels- knowing she’ll likely outlive V. V can’t imagine, can’t imagine seeing someone so much younger- a child to her and just knowing their story will end before her own. The merc sucks in a lungful of smoke, lets it settle into her blood before blowing it out the window; “Point is, Ker wants to put on a show.” She tries not to linger too much on wondering how long Johnny will live this time, beneath her skin once she’s gone. He’s not a man meant for a long life, it crushes her heart but she knows Nancy is right. Even with his edges softening, he’s not the kind of man to seek peace and quiet. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less deserving of more time, of a longer story- once more chapter, one more paragraph, one more line, one more word- he deserves that much.

Second WIP- been writing a bit from my durge's POV, early game stuff~

No name. No home. No connections. No idea where he is. But he knows he’s fucked. So, there’s certainly that- he heaves a heavy sigh, scratching black claws over his short dark horns. He’ll have to figure out how to pluck the tadpole from his head and make sense of the abyss sitting inside of it, but perhaps the first step should be just figuring out where the hells he is. His boots crush through sand, the leather thuds softly against a limp corpse. One of many that decorate the beach, crimson streaked rags cover the body. Hair matted to their greying forehead with a mix of blood and sand. The heavy gash across their skull giving away the cause of their death, the smell of drying blood burns at his nose stirring something inside of him. An ache settling within his bones, fingers twitching as thoughts of sinking his fingers through the soft meat flitter in his mind. How easily he could crack the already fractured skull, feel it break within his fingers, play in the viscera he finds inside. Only a pity they're already dead, that he'd never get to hear them scream. What the fuck,no, no- he shakes his head like a dog throwing off water. That's, no, no, he blinks through a haze he can't name. Nudges the body again with his boot, seeing where half their body is turning purple where the blood settles. And as his heel hovers above the corpses head, impulse strikes it down, hard and swift as he crushes their skull- a smile pulls at his lips when he hears the crack of the bones and the squelch of viscera beneath his weight. Then he jolts back, as if struck, smearing blood through sand- why did he do that? Is that the tadpole, making him violent- monstrous? Despite the gnawing gap where a memory should lay, he can't shake the idea this isn't the first corpse he's stood over. Not the first time he’s heard the crunch of bone, watched crimson seep into the edges of his boots, nor smiled at the sight. He shakes his head, pushes through again and leaves the crushed corpse behind as he begins his march across the sand.

#cyberpunk 2077 #baldurs gate 3 #cp2077 #bg3 #aidan becker #johnny silverhand #fem v #durge #dark urge #silas durge #i don't have a proper tag for my durge oc yet lmao

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hallwords · 11 months

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just a silly lil one-shot

...

tw for terminal illness, allusion to possible suicide, death, and grief total word count 3980 status completed(?)

He meets her in a café.

She is not the first and she will not be the last, but she is different, unique, and he knows the moment he sees her that she will break his heart.

She's new. He can tell because she looks stressed as hell, clumsily preparing a customer's order and following after her more experienced coworker like a lost puppy. Her blonde hair is in disarray, looking more like hay than anything that belongs on a person's head. Strands of gold have slipped free of her ponytail, cascading behind her like the path of water on too-shallow streams. Her eyes are wide with something akin to hysteria, rings of blue darting to every corner of the small space behind the counter.

She looks like she's on the verge of a mental breakdown.

She has also not noticed him standing directly in front of her. He's been staring at her for the past ten seconds now.

Make that fifteen.

Now twenty.

He clears his throat, loudly, pursing his lips against a smile when she jumps out of her skin. She straightens up, wheezes through a breath of air, and barely has the mind to put on a smile (grimace) before she sucks in another harsh breath through gritted teeth and says, "Hi, howareyoudoinghowmayItakeyourorder?"

He blinks, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs.

She huffs out a pained chuckle. "S-Sorry," she tacks on, wringing her hands together behind her back—a common nervous gesture. "I... I'm new. Like, very. Real— Really, really new. Ha." She shakes her head, as if to scramble her mind back into working order, and yanks her hands up to grip either side of the register. "Yeah, you-you probably knew that. Uhm... Right. Order. What... What can I get you, sir?" Her eyes widen impossibly further at that, and she hurries to correct herself: "I-I mean... Sir, right? It's... Uhm. I didn't mean to-to assume or anything. I—"

This time, he can't stop his laugh. He tries to hide it by clearing his throat again, but the way her face twists into a pout (Adorable, comes an unbidden thought) proves he failed.

"You're fine," he says. Despite already knowing exactly what he wants, he allows his eyes to stray back to the menu on the wall behind her, letting his gaze linger in however much time it'll take for the poor girl to get herself back together. When the student behind him starts tapping an impatient rhythm on the counter, he says, "I'd like one of your soy iced vanilla lattes. Eight shots of espresso, seven packs of sugar, three creams. Largest size. Maybe add in some caramel, I've..."

His eyes return to her.

She's staring at him in a daze. Probably has been for longer than socially acceptable. Not that he's one to say, considering he'd done so for longer when she was zoned out behind the register.

"What," is all she says.

His lips curl into a smile. This might take a while.

——

"What's your name?" she asks, marker in shaky hand and cup in other shaky hand.

"Sage," he says.

"Oh, cool," she replies. "I'm Zoey." The introduction is brief, automatic, off-handed. She's stumbling away through his order before he gets the chance to comment, to tell her that it's a nice name.

Zoey. It's Greek and stands for "life," appropriately representing "eternal life." If she wasn't spilling coffee grains all over the floor, he'd tell her that it was ironic, considering that she'll die within the next three years.

————————

Sage spends a lot of his time in cafés. The popular ones, especially—the ones always bustling with people. You'd expect someone like him to be on the opposite side of reality from anything that breathes, but Sage has learned that avoidance leads to nothing. The inevitability of outliving everyone is just that—inevitable. To try escaping fate is a feat reserved for fools, after all, and Sage's curse of an immortal body and a mortal heart is something he must simply accept.

Though if he hadn't the knowledge of when and how everyone he will ever come to love will die, then perhaps keeping himself sane throughout the years would be more... manageable. Perhaps if the countdown was not reserved only for those he is destined to love but for everyone, he wouldn't be as broken. But for him to see numbers hovering over people he wouldn't bat an eye at otherwise, for him to be told who he is to love and for how long he is capable of loving them...

It hurts.

Alas, the world despises everyone unfairly and unequally, and Sage is no exception. He can only live. Forever, in an eternal cycle of heartbreak.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Zoey asks him one day.

Sage sometimes finds it amusing how his younger self wouldn't be here with her. He was harsh and bitter then, unwilling to accept what had happened, what he had done to himself, froth dusting his lips as he snapped at anyone who dared to get close, afraid to get his spirit torn to pieces again. Because there was always something to tear, he found out eventually, no matter how empty he felt.

But now, Sage is too tired to be at war. Let the world be cruel. Sage knows that she only has so much time, so he might as well make the most of it.

Sage is allowing himself to fall, is the one pushing to be closer, is someone who wants to love. Perhaps it's delusion. Perhaps it's a mistake. Perhaps he has grown so used to the pain that he now actively seeks it. Perhaps he's lost his mind. The details are irrelevant.

Sage has chosen to approach Zoey, ignored the numbers floating above her strawberry-blonde head, and has said, a gentle smile on his lips, "I'd like to get to know you better."

And he has. He wants to know everything about her. He's too old to continue drowning in regrets.

In the past year he's spent listening to her every word, he's learned so much. She likes the color brown, prefers cats over dogs, and killed a cactus when she was thirteen. She has a family: an annoying older brother named Zach and a mother named Zaira. She considers it creative that their names begin with the letter Z. She has a crush on her classmate, Elijah, but can't bring herself to confess. She spends so much time reading fanfiction and binge-watching anime that she worries she no longer has a life.

She wants to be a fashion designer. She wants to go to France. She wants to marry the stranger she met at a bus stop when she was fifteen years old. She wants to summon the courage to write her number on a napkin for a cute customer. She wants to get enough money to buy a house by the ocean. She wants three cats. She wants a good husband. She wants to raise two kids.

She won't be able to graduate.

Sage wants to be young again. He wants his anger back so he can curse the world for everything it's done. It would be a human thing to do.

He thinks being human again would be quite nice.

"Sage?" she prompts, and when his eyes clear and he snaps back to attention, she only smiles endearingly at him, rolling her eyes as she inhales what's left of her watermelon slushy—her favorite.

"Sorry," he says. He isn't. She's used to this by now. He curls the edge of his lip the tiniest bit, tilts his head in a way that would make many swoon. "I was busy admiring your eyes. They're quite beautiful, you know? Ravishing, almost. Do you know of the word 'pulchritudinous?' Well, I must say that those rings upon your pupils are most effervescent azure—"

She merely rolls those beautiful eyes again, unfazed. He knows she does not love him romantically, so he does not love her romantically either. He thinks he lost all ability to love someone that way. He thinks he's going to lose all ability to love at all. But Sage needs to have fun sometimes or he'd lose his mind.

"Flirt," she accuses.

"If the shoe fits."

She pops another of the café's crackers in her mouth. Not the crackers sold at the café she works at, mind. The ones at the rival café are better, she says, bold traitor that she is, so she always drags him here whenever she's on break for the "superior treats."

("Isn't there some kind of unwritten law that prohibits baristas from ordering from their employer's greatest fiends?" Sage had commented when they took their place at the end of the line.

Zoey simply huffed and turned to tell him, "Last I checked, no one gives ten shits about me wearing a Café le Restaurant apron at Grains de Café." He's always thought the names uncreative. "I'm free to come and go as I please... On break, of course."

Sage leaned down their six-inch height difference to conspiratorially whisper, "That barista is side-eyeing you. Perhaps he's dredging up a contingency plan to eliminate his vile competition."

Zoey punched his shoulder. Hard. Enough for him to flinch, actually, and it made him happy, seeing that she was still so strong. "Shut," she said, "and stop talking like you were born in the late Victorian Era... or some... overly pretentious, nerdy madman. You're making me feel decades younger than you. I'm pretty sure our age difference is only four years, not four centuries."

Sage only smiled.)

Now, at the table farthest from everyone else, with another ten minutes left of her break, she adds, impolitely (her mouth is very much full), "You haven't answered my question."

"Hmm?"

"Yep," she goes on. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

He arches his brow. "What brought this on?"

"I read too much fanfiction," she answers curtly. "Now, c'mon, tell me, tell me, tell—"

"Alright, alright," he says. "No need to get so rowdy."

"Ew. I hate that word. You should die."

She's so silly sometimes.

He makes a show of thinking, and she leans forward, impatient. Hand on his chin and forehead creased, he makes a low, noncommittal hum, and says, "No."

I believe in doomed souls, he never says. Souls that split each other apart.

Her eyebrows fly into the heavens. "Wellllll, okaayyyy," she says. "Ignorance. 'Tis ignorance that makes you think such, surely. I'm fixing that. What if I tell you all about them—" she glances at her watch— "with the seven minutes I have until I go back to being a suffering member of society? Maybe I can convince you that they exist, hmm?"

He chuckles. "Sure."

At that, she lifts her cup of hot chocolate (she ordered it despite Sage's warning that it doesn't mix well with watermelon slushies) in an offer for a toast, just because she can. He humors her, again, his own mug of hot chocolate clinking gently against hers. She tips her head back and chugs it all down like some sort of drunkard.

She could drink if she wanted to, he thinks. Alcohol, that is. Today's her twenty-first birthday. She could do whatever she wanted, including getting piss-drunk. She has time.

She has a year and a half to live.

...

still interested?

this funky mess is a part of my still-growing collection of one-shots on my wattpad page. you can read the rest here!

i'm planning on turning this concept into a novel one day. if you're interested in seeing what happens after the events of the one-shot, be sure to vote and interact with this post by any means you'd like!

(that way, i'll know people want to know more.)

let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

#writeblr #original fiction #original work #short story #one shot #reblogs highly appreciated!!!#as this allows more people to see my bullshit :)#my writing #my work #ew1n0 #sage #zoey #my posts

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mega-ringsandthings-world · 5 months

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Huh, what other characters haven't I thought of?... Oh my god, I forgot about Law!

My boy, I forgot him!

But, okay, if I'm being honest, I don't really see a lot changing for him. Flevance is still destroyed, his escape might be harder, seeing as the world government is going full military dictatorship, but he'd still have Amber lead, and hopefully, he'd still find Doflamingo.

Corazon could be interesting, though. When exactly was he sent to spy on Doflamingo, and is the warlord a lot more aware that the WG are keeping an eye on him? Seeing as the government is cracking down on pirates hard. Wait, was he even a Warlord at this time? I forgot. But all his illegal activities would have to be either extremely underground, even more so, or maybe, since politicians and nobles are cashing in on the Marines and Pirates even more now, he can take advantage of the corruption? Weasel his way in through his Celestial Dragon's blood and connections and still continue to do everything he's doing, and everyone knows it, but no one can do anything about it because he's made himself indispensable.

I don't know why they'd have Corazon on the inside, maybe to find blackmail? Less to bring him down than to find ways to make him less inclined to go against the World Government. Does Cora know? And what will happen when Law shows up?

I can see canon happening or maybe something different. I don't think Cora could jaunt around the North Blue with Law so easily with the military presence unless he pulled rank. But then again, he's undercover, so he could tied to Cipher Pol in some way? I don't know. Cipher Pol seems more is nepotism had a three way with the CIA mixed with the FBI than the military-police that are the Marines.

Anyways, just realized, will Cora be with Doflamingo when the news breaks about Loguetown? Will he be horrified? Will he question his place in the Marines and what he's doing? Again, I don't know. What are your ideas for them?

Because I can see this storyline going the same way as canon with a few missteps

LAW!!! There's my baby!! In this AU, it's likely that Flevance is destroyed with the help of the Marines/World Government. Which leads to Law barely barely reaching Doflamingo. Hold on while I perform open-heart surgery on the timeline. Okay, Doflamingo was seventeen when Roger was executed and twenty-four when Rosinante came back to him, and at twenty-five he picked up Law. If you fudge Rosinante being around five-four years younger than Doflamingo, it'd mean Rosinante was around twenty-ish when he was sent to Doflamingo. At seventeen Doflamingo probably wasn't a Warlord, but for this AU, perhaps the Marines/World Government made him one right after the Loguetown sweep. As far as his illegalities, he'd do his more suspect ones on the low-down and commit the ones he knows he can get away with more publicly. He'd play both sides, cashing in on what the marines are doing while setting aside a nest egg to fall back on when they finally turn against him. Because he knows they will, because of what they are doing at Loguetown. So if they make Doflamingo a Warlord at seventeen in this AU, (which they also do because they figure the job will get him killed) then they also send Rosinante in earlier to report back to them on Doflamingo and be a sleeper agent primed to take Doflamingo down when he outlives his usefulness. Which would be extremely coincidental timing, but Doflamingo would chalk it up at first to Rosinante being driven out of hiding by the Marine witch-hunt. Up until that happens, Rosinante would be safely cradled in the loving arms of the Marines/Sengoku, and now nothing about what's going on. He knows he's there to work against Doflamingo, but he has no idea of the state of things until he's sent to Doflamingo. And it's with Doflamingo that he's exposed to the treachery and evils the Marines/WG are committing. When he learns the entire scope of what is being done in Loguetown and abroad, he'll lose faith and his loyalty to/in the Marines/WG. And when he meets Law and finds out how the Marines massacred Flevance, he'll turn his back on them entirely. Rosinante is also, like fourteen here too. So there's that. Since the AU shifts/inverts canon, the plan was for Rosinante to join Doflamingo for real, because the Marines/WG will seem a bigger monster than Doflamingo. Vergo is sent into the Marines and Rosinante becomes the Corazon. And when he becomes Cora, he starts feeding the Marines false information on Doflamingo. In this AU, Doflamingo would find out about Cora working for/being a Marine almost immediately, but since Doflamingo is seventeen, and arguably somewhat less, uh, intense, he'd let Cora live/forgive him. But he'd hurt him, and Cora loses almost all of his voice due to that. So Cora is able to go abroad with Law like in canon, because he's pulling a Vergo 2.0. Speaking of which, maybe Doflamingo sets him to infiltrate the Cipher Pol, and get secrets the CP has extracted from the pirates in Loguetown. In the future, Cora is killed by Tsuru's men due to them finding out Cora has betrayed them for Doflamingo, and Law blames Doflamingo for it/for not saving Cora, because Cora used himself as a diversion to let Law escape. So Law comes to hate Doflamingo almost as much as in canon.

#one piece #op #opla #donquixote doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon #op rosinante #op corazon #corazon one piece #donquixote corazon #op law #trafalgar law #law one piece #trafalgar d water law #loguetown au

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doctorbeverlycrusher · 1 year

Text

I have some thoughts about Geordi from the latest episode of Picard.

He did seem a bit out of character but I thought about it and it kind of makes sense. Having his best friend die the way he did, especially when Data very likely could have outlived them all being an android, would have absolutely affected him.

That combined with the whole ban on synths, the world of Starfleet seemingly getting more and more dangerous and life threatening, and becoming a parent, I understand why Geordi would be way more cautious about things than he was back in the day.

These characters have lived through a lot in the last twenty years and sometimes, things change. However, Geordi’s face lighting up when Data says his name is eternal. That was the first moment I could genuinely see the TNG era Geordi starting to come through.

#kaitlyn speaks #star trek picard #picard spoilers #picard #geordi la forge

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spicywhumper · 2 months

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@femslash-february bingo 2024: came back wrong + whump bingo: near death experience

series: crimson history // rating: teen and up audiences

cw: survivor's guilt

She’s trying.

She’s really, really, really trying.

Just-

It feels like what happened at the warehouse has broken her. What happened at the warehouse, not during the last almost-two years, twenty-two months that don’t exist in her mind (or they do, Caroline can they, it’s there, the memories are just locked. They’re in a box, hidden away, she feels like it’s for her own sake. For her safety. For her sanity.) It’s almost a logical conclusion, being the only survivor out of a team of nine members. The doctor that evaluated her once she was taken into the HQ commented about how whoever healed her did a great job.

An almost flawless job… but there’s still scar tissue on basically all of her organs, somehow her bones have scars, and it’s a miracle that she’s not in constant pain.

Even without the memories, the psychological scars are there. The therapist frowns at her, when she tells him that it feels like her brain is trying to make her remember. He says she doesn’t remember what happened because her mind is trying to protect her – doesn’t make sense, she came back with a better health than the night she was sent to the warehouse with eight other members that didn’t make it, why she survived, why she sur-

Her mother always said she’s too much like her father. Her emotions turn into anger, her baseline emotion is rage. She doesn’t cry, she punches walls and yells at whoever doesn’t get the hint that she wants to rearrange someone’s face with her fists. (She’s always her mother thinks she’s worse, actually, Caroline doesn’t need alcohol to be angry, to be dangerous.)

She feels… numb.

So numb, so empty, she misses the rage.

(She misses whatever she felt in that time. There are echoes of it. Something nicely warm lived on her ribcage, behind her heart, neatly nested between her lungs.

She misses it more than the never-ending inferno of her anger.)

“Do you still blame yourself?” Her therapist asks every other session.

“How am I supposed not to?”

He tells her again, again and that it’s not her fault. She didn’t lure the team here, she didn’t order them to investigate without any kind of guarantee that wasn’t a threat. They didn’t have a competent magician in a team of agents meant to take down the strongest, most powerful magical criminals.

It’s almost treason, isn’t it? The way he tells her it’s the higher ups fault, for sending agents to face the devil without holy water.

It’s the higher ups fault that she came so close to death that it feels like she came back without a soul. (I nearly died a hundred times, someone tells her, soft voice on her ear, warm hands on her back, soft presence in the dark, comforting her after what must have been a nightmare.

It feels wrong, and it feels write, to be hold this gently when she was supposed to be dead. I- sometimes I feel like I’m just a ghost, a dead thing in a meatsuit. Somehow, her confession feel like comfort. How I make it stop? Caroline asks. I don’t know. But you’re not alone.)

Caroline lays awake on her bed, staring up at ceiling like the vastiness on top of her will give her the answers she seeks. The dark makes her feel a little less empty, she thinks that maybe beyond life, there’s only cold darkness. And it wants her back, she’s outliving what she was giving, and is being punished for still being around.

She went there, died for minutes (for hours, for years, maybe she’s still dead), and was yanked back. Now the beyond wants her back, after letting go of a broken, wrong version of her. Warped core that maybe it can’t be fixed.

(She doesn’t like to think too much about the warm, foggy dark memories that makes her want to come back home.

But Caroline isn’t sure where, who home is.)

#femslash feb bingo #whump bingo #whump #whump community #whump blog #whumpblr #lady whump #whump writing

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hayleysayshay · 2 years

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Okay what r ur thoughts on Percy and vexs kids i must know

Omg anon thanxxxx I have many thoughts. I don't know why i gave a few sentences for the de rolo siblings but for the kids you're getting a good chunky boi lol.

One thing is that I keep flip flopping whether or not they’re half-elves or quarter elves (as Vex has the blood of a full elf in her, they could be half elves in an interpretation of lore). I tend to just prefer half-elves so I know they’ll outlive Vex tbh though I am not wedded to the idea.

Vesper: She is the oldest child and acts like the oldest child. She loves Whitestone and as soon as she turns into a teenager she wants to rule. She feels a bond with Pelor as she's plane touched, and will often pray for her family's sake when they're going through difficult times, especially when her parents and aunt seem sad, lost, stuck in grief and trauma. She differs with Percy on this a lot, but she gets along well with both her parents, other than matters of Whitestone. She gets along well with Cassandra, who does eventually cut through to Vesper that she can't just give her whole life up to Whitestone at a young age, so I like to think she agrees and Vesper spends time in other cities learning and studying for a year or so, keeping close to Pelor's temples, but just feels homesick for Whitestone so would never leave long-term. Enjoys riding but doesn't enjoy the outdoors much and never liked hunting or anything to do with the grey hunt as a special force, and isn't physically inclined and only knows 'a few' offensive cleric spells. Men and women throw themselves at her feet with marriage proposals, not sure if she'd ever accept any.

Wolfe: Slightly older than Leona and proud of it. He is a smarmy lil boy who think he's the absolute shit, and think he's more charismatic than he actually is. Of all the siblings he wants the glory of being a hero like Vox Machina the most, and becomes a fairly good all-rounded fighter. However, despite being a bit of an apparent fuck-boi, he has a childhood sweetheart he marries early on.

Leona: More level-headed than her brother. She's less of adventurer and has Percy's tinkering spirit. Unlike Percy, she sits and talks his ear off when she's tinkering. She is very chatty and friendly. She loves building things mechanically but doesn't have the aversion to magic her father does. Bit more of a flirt than Wolfe, string of broken hearts behind her. I could see her moving away to help continue with the rebuilding of Emon when she's in her twenties.

Wolfe and Leona: Vex notes how as the pair are twins they're close, but they don't have that intense, dependent bond that she and Vax had, which is probably a good thing becaue these two grew up not needing to depend on each other. Unlike Vesper, both enjoyed the outdoors, exploring, the grey hunt. Both are far more extraverted. When they're adults, they decide to travel, and Leona keeps Wolfe in check. They join an adventuring party and do some good deeds (far more minor) EDIT AS I AM WRITING THIS WHAT IF THEY JOINED THE DARRINGTON BRIGADE??? like they become loyal members throughout their lives, they sometimes just join an adventure as a twin bonding exercise despite living apart.

Vax'ildan: They call him 'Dan.' A mumma's boy when he's young. Good with animals, the grey hunt makes him cry, and he becomes a vegetarian (at least for a period of time). Close with Auntie Keyleth and enjoys Zeprah a lot, I could see him joining the Ashari as a druidy boy. I think when he's young, because he's so close with Vex he just doesn't see much of his father. But as he gets older, he likes taking his textbooks on animals and nature into his father's workshop and quietly reading whilst his father works, enjoying the background noise his father makes whilst he creates. Both get that the other needs space (this quiet time is sometimes ruined by Leona, who eventually realises that she should maybe leave them alone), and Dan is close with both.

Gwendolyn: A little angel girl who just happens to look like a devil. When she's a baby she cries a lot and Percy soothes her better, I think because he had the pact with Ipkesh. Vex and Percy are honest with Gwen and the children (as their other kids could have a tiefling because of Percy) that Percy is the reason they have a tiefling BUT with the rest of Whitestone and visiting parties Vex is like 'yeah?? maybe it was me??? what of it??'. Whitestone accepts Gwendolyn as she is (said before but I think after everything that happened in whitestone, the people of whitestone would be quick to realise that tieflings are not a cause of evil or pain) and Gwen has a very peaceful, loving childhood. Still daddy's little girl growing up, but as she get's older she enjoys the grey hunt with her mother, and I just picture Gwen with a full body camoflage outfit on with only her eyes visible to give her the ability to blend in. She does enjoy combat sports a little, but is mostly 'dainty' and charming and friendly, Whitestone adore her. People start proposing marriage to her as well. Maybe she's a little chaotic and accepts a few, before ending them shortly after, but she would settle down and be adored by a loving partner. I think she could rule Whitestone in Cassandra's place on the council with Vesper--- I think Gwen would be a little naïve/easily swayed on her own, but would be a very dedicated ruler for the people and adored.

#vox machina #de rolo kids #de rolo family #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #gwendolyn de rolo #critical role #vesper elaina de rolo #maybe i just want a tiefling ruler okay #like honestly i have no sexuality hc's for these characters so imagine who you want #but now im imaginging wolfe's childhood sweetheart to be a boy and im in love so #i have been waiting for so long for someone to ask me cr headcanons #thank you #i mean ill dump them at some point anyway but

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