#a day in the life of a wandering paladin

[radioactive-reactions]

How would the companions react to discovering not only Vault 111 but also the frozen Sole Survivor

Whether they saw it as a potential treasure trove, a nostalgic relic, or just a safe, quiet refuge, Vault 111 always seemed to attract the odd scavenger or adventurer. After slipping past the door, however, this particular intruder would end up stumbling upon something far stranger than they could expect...

Cait hadn't really taken the time to scope out the Vault before diving into it headfirst- having a pack of feral dogs nipping at your heels will do that to you. Coming face to face with the frozen Sole Survivor down there is freaky enough to give her a heart attack, but as the perfect audience for her rambling stories and a nonjudgmental drinking buddy they soon become the centerpiece of her impromptu hideout. As for actually getting them out? Fuck if she knows how.

Codsworth knows full well what the Vault up the hill contains, of course. How could he not? Much of the aging robot's time is spent tending to his owners' pods: tightening every bolt, polishing the glass, keeping the steel casing free of even a single speck of rust. The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that on some level, under that thin layer of frost, they might know he's there for them.

Curie's unbridled excitement at making contact with another Vault is quickly tempered once she actually sets eyes on the denizens of said Vault. With nothing but time and centuries' worth of medical expertise to work with, she immediately sets to the task of bringing Vault 111 back to life- not just the Sole Survivor, but everyone consigned to a cold and inglorious fate in those cryopods. This is a mission worth spending another two hundred years on.

Danse has been assigned to scour the Vault as part of a routine sweep for useful technology- a task entirely beneath a Paladin, but what he finds there more than makes up for it. Immediately, a whole field research team is dispatched to the vault and the cryopods are airlifted out one by one. The Sole Survivor's first memory of the new world is waking up to the harsh white light of a Brotherhood lab, bombarded with questions and shoved blearily through a battery of tests. Not a great first impression.

Deacon still thinks the Vault would make an ideal fallback hideout, even with the rows of corpsicles. The eerie blue glow and residents in cryosleep are pitched to Desdemona as enhancing the ambience, but the suggestion is soundly denied for the Vault's visibility. Even so, Deacon maintains a post outside, just in case one of those poor bastards stumbles out one day.

When Hancock inexplicably wakes up in the Vault after partying a little too hard, he immediately assumes he's still hallucinating- that, or he's been picked up by Zetans. It takes him hours of trying to pry the Sole Survivor's pod open in a hungover haze to finally give up, writing the place off as another of the Old World's many sins and decent subject matter for his next speech.

MacCready almost feels at home in the vast underground chambers of the Vault. Almost. No matter how convenient the Vault is as a last-ditch hideout, its residents creep him out too much to stay there for any real length of time. He tries his hardest to avoid their frozen stares, endlessly grateful that it's them in there and not him.

Valentine relates to the frozen Sole Survivor a little more than he'd like to admit. Two abandoned relics, used to serve a greater purpose and then thrown out like so much junk when they were done. He knows more than anyone what a harsh awakening they're going to have- if they do wake up. Every so often, he'll wander back to check on them, sharing a yarn about his latest case and watching for any progress. On the day that pod does unseal, he'll be there to lend a helping hand... but until then, all he can do is maintain a file. It's one hell of a cold case.

Piper feels a little guilty that her first thought is how good of a story this will make. 'Pod people slumber among us', maybe? She doesn't want to risk the Sole Survivor's life by touching anything, but maybe if she spreads the word someone out there will be able to help them. That's how she justifies it to herself, anyway- now if only there was some concrete link to the Institute she could work in...

Preston has been surveying the area around Sanctuary for potential threats to the burgeoning settlement... and he still isn't entirely sure that this doesn't count as one. It takes a moment to line up the resident registry with the names on Sanctuary's rusted-out mailboxes, but once he does, he has the Vault sealed up again out of respect for those who came before. If he and his scant resources can't help them, he can at least let them rest in peace.

Strong hammers away at the pod to no avail before stomping off in a huff to seek his next victim somewhere else. Canned food clearly isn't his thing.

X6-88 is here for a routine checkup - nothing more, nothing less. Although the Director had been cagey about what exactly he wanted to be kept safe down here, there was nothing X6 wouldn't be prepared for... so he thought, at least. The sight of a person, frozen and contained, gives him a rare moment of pause and elicits an uncomfortable, involuntary comparison to the dormant synths rolling off the assembly line. Nevertheless, he makes sure the cryopod is still functional and returns home, all the while trying to forget their strange resemblance to the Director.

[sukisheadlights]

hey there!!! could you make headcanons for all the Voltron guys for when they realize that (she/her) reader is like actually someone they could date/ end up with? like they get turned on by something she did or something like that? you don't have to but thanks for reading anyway </3

Voltron Paladins realizing Reader is someone they could end up with!

req: yes words: 873 pairing: voltron x reader content: fluff a/n: I was actually planning on writing something similar so thanks for the ask anon! <3

Keith

Keith isn’t interested in love (until he realizes he can date you) BUT FOR THE MOMENT HE’S NOT!

Both of you are still determining when you got close as well. You protected him once in battle, and since then, you’ve just stuck together.

And he of course protects you when he can because he's grateful you saved his life.

So you guys became friends,,, that was news to Lance btw.

Slowly you let each other into your lives, and now you train together often.

You were never ‘better’ than him at fighting (you actually just made yourself lose sometimes) and Keith sometimes ‘lost’ to make you just a little happy (little did he know hehe)

But today? Oh, you weren’t playing that’s for sure. He was super confused at first, then he was impressed, and then he was turned on. Which is fair because you looked straight out of a magazine, the ‘hot’ sweaty and perfectly messy hair.

When did you get so hot?

And boom. He felt he was on earth again because realization hit him like a TRAIN.

You were his age, and you were hot, and you could totally be a thing. And wtf is wrong with Keith? He's never thought of you like this.

Yeah, so that’s that.

And then he gets all awkward around you, and you guys haven't had a training session together since then. He always conveniently has something to do when you try to ask him.

Goddamnit.

Lance

You’ve been friends with him since the good old garrison days.

You grew to like the dork’s presence

You’ve always known he’s flirty, that’s just Lance.

Getting you flowers (sometimes), flirting with you in the hallways, and even when you’re fighting with the galra.

You always rolled your eyes, scoffed at him, or brushed him off but today?

Violence

You were so ready to mess with him too

You woke up with mischief on your mind

And mischief you created

BECAUSE BECAUSE BECAUSE

OK SO

Lance was flirting with you while fighting the galra

And he expected you to react normally but nooooo

You flirted back

AND THEN YOU WINK AT HIM

SHOOT A GALRA SOLDIER

AND LEAVE !???!!?!!!?!?!?!!?!?

Lance MALFUNCTIONS

Like lance.exe has STOPPED working

DECEASED

Keith’s snickering in the background! (And Shiro too but he won’t admit that, for Lance’s sake)

“Shut it.” is all Lance says for like 10 minutes

You’re hot, He’s hot, and you guys could end up together

You’re a woman now

And you could have him ENTIRELY at his knees.

Hunk

Hunk misses earth

So much

He stops talking as much and wanders around the castle

He didn't think anyone noticed

But you did

And you felt SO bad for him

So when you stop at the mall to get teleduv lenses you seek away

And get the closest possible ingredients to make his favorite treat

Ice cream sandwiches (real)

You’re testing weird white heavy cream adjacent substances and so much more all for him

You might get sick

Oh well

You sneak back and he gives you a weird “Where were you?” look,

But you just ignore

And then you slave away in the kitchen and finally end up with something that’s ice cream sandwich adjacent 

“What’re you making?”

“Ice cream sandwiches”

“Oh for the team? You should have let me help”

“No”

Confused hunk

“It’s just for us” and you hold up an ice cream sandwich for him

His face LIGHTS up and he gladly accepts it

Then you guys sit on the floor and just talk about life and how both of you feel

All night.

It's freaking adorable

He realises how much he adores you, and how he absolutely loves you and all of your little quirks

It doesn’t even matter when the ice cream starts melting, he’d much rather focus on you and talk. Only occasionally taking bites when you do

Pidge

Pidge always knew you were datable

And an amazing person

But she started falling for you when the paladins were trying to tell her to not go find Matt

You stepped in a stood up for her, gaining Shiro’s support.

And then when she was ready to leave she saw you putting your stuff into your lion

“You don’t think I’ll leave you alone, do you?”

She knows it’s because someone will need to be there for her in case Matt is gone

But she doesn’t complain

It’s a silent brewing of love and appreciation

And she’s so grateful to have you in her life

Shiro

When Keith was confused and stuck without Shiro, you stepped up and found him

He was surprised at first

But you took care of him and helped him out as he got better

You were there for him to lean on. Always.

Literally and figuratively 

His appreciation turned into adoration and then his adoration turned into pure, genuine love

Once he was fully healthy again

He’d try to pay it back to you

By protecting you when you went against any threats

ESPECIALLY when you were out of your lion

And then it just becomes a thing where you protect each other

It’s adorable

He loves you and he protects you

And vice versa

Adorable, I say.

[redstonedust]

tell me about your ocs :3 anything you wanna give

definitely not answering these several days late hiii hiii i love my home grown blorbos. i have many others but my main brainrot rn is for my characters for adnd style modern fantasy rp group my friends and i have been doing for a few years now

i play 4 characters (and a few one-shot npcs) and i love them dearly:

esme, psychic who has somehow becoming a magnet for tragic plot circumstances. they have the rizz of a prey animal that is actively being hunted and their only comfort in life is their relationship with their equally socially awkward t4t emo girlfriend

sushi, siren from an isolationist human hating colony that ran away because he found out land has like, cooked food and anime and the internet. kind of guy with enough backstory induced attachment issues to fill a 20 page analysis post

bones, ancient moody druid that answers the age old question 'what if you gave the lorax a gun.' spent about 200 years wandering around the desert before deciding it should go figure out why people keep building cities everywhere and what the big deal is

aaand jupiter, slightly less ancient fae paladin with the energy of a cheerful hippie who seems harmless but you just know is probably secretly antivax. spends most of his time doing oil paintings and if you asked him to use a computer he'd faint

thank u for letting me share my kids i think about them. constantly. too much. every day

[fallout4-reacts]

An actual prompt this time! I know you're busy and have plenty of things to write yet, take your time.

Soo I was thinking that maybe companions (and Maxson) horribly failing at confessing to Sole. Like for example they could clear out some Raiders, companion is impressed, tries to confess BAM Sole gets fucking decked by random raider they didn't kill. I feel like you could get pretty creative with that one. Like deathclaws, something exploding, just settlers running in, other companions interrupting etc.

Yeah! Sorry for my waiting list but this one just take me out of my bed literally Maybe it's better then just writing nothing and you all will forgive me... I will not taking it as an habit but it was just what I needed I think And maybe an EPIC ask... I think it will be (not in the sense I'll do an epic job, in the sense hmmm Titan Quest like the F.E.V. one and all) Oh, and take note you ask for... horribly

Part 1

Danse / Deacon / Nick Valentine

(Part 2 : Hancock, Preston, Strong)

(Part 3 : X6-88 alone because of a bug)

(Part 4 : Gage, MacCready, Piper)

(Part 5 : Cait, Curie, Codsworth, Dogmeat, Elder Maxson)

Danse : Sole returns. Sole returns to the bunker after a few days. Danse had time to clean and make the space more comfortable. He didn't consider establishing his new camp there because, after all, he didn't consider living at all.

But now he did.

And Sole came back.

Danse kept himself occupied during his few days alone, trying not to worry about what was happening to him. But he pondered his new envision of himself. Beyond the initial distaste, he felt a sense of conviction, similar to how Sole stood.

Whatever he is, he is a person with convictions for which he fought. He was a man of honor —a synth?— whose his brothers and sisters could trust.

He'd come a long way. His damned way into this group that turned his back on him after he had dedicated his blood and soul for them. And Maxson, whom he almost considered a friend, treated him as if he were a worm to be crushed.

After being reassured that he agreed with Sole on his right to life, his thoughts couldn't help but wander.

He recalls Sole standing in front of him, defending him against Maxson.

And even more.

More, a lot more.

He can't help but replay in his mind all of these events, all of these moments. When Sole emerged as an avenging angel, slaying all the ghouls in their way, Danse was convinced that his squad's final hour had arrived. They entered the paladin's life as a mythical entity, too great for regular mortals, an enigmatic spirit of the times sent to save them.

Then there's how they forced a comedy at Fort Strong while killing mutants. Danse had admonished them a few times for their lack of seriousness in the face of a critical assignment, but he couldn't keep a smile from rising on his face in the midst of their antics.

And all of their nonsense, every time they could.

Danse had pieced together Sole's intentions and the horror of their past, and he couldn't help but admire this person's trustworthiness. When Danse expressed concern about Sole's moral status following such heinous ordeals, Sole merely grinned and remarked that the companionship they were blessed with helped them get through.

Even after they returned from the Institute, learning the injurious truth, they had held on, had rounded the corner, and Danse felt better to know he had been by their side to help. To morally support them.

And now that Sole is standing in front of Danse again, slightly smiling and wondering what's next for him, Danse feels his throat tighten.

Because Danse has realized that he has strong affections for Sole.

Much more than a simple friendship.

He nods slowly.

"Perhaps we should consider venturing to Sanctuary. I am unable to endure it any further. First and foremost, I am a soldier, and a soldier without a purpose doesn't progress very far. I humbly express my desire to align myself with the esteemed Minutemen's structure. In the utmost, their cause is righteous, and they shall not forsake me nor open fire upon me. I have received word that their General harbors a troubling acceptance towards synths."

"They tolerate and love them a lot," Sole admits with a half-smile.

They proceed without adding anything. Thus far north, there is no road that crosses directly, at least not according to Sole. As best they can, they cross the countryside in wreckage, cutting valleys and hills.

And Danse remains quiet, lost in introspection.

Yes, he likes Sole a lot more than simply as a friend. There's a lot more. Soon, Sole will return to their Rail Road operations, to which Danse has never been requested (and he now understands why), while Danse will begin his Minutemen duties, most likely limited to the Castle for the time of his training. And, while it appeared to him at first to be the finest way to fill his days, he now has a peculiar uneasiness at the prospect of leaving Sole without delivering anything of what he feel upon them.

They are in the midst of the wreckage of a plane that crashed there two centuries ago. They passed through a few Minutemen (apparently, it is in the profession to check out every nook and cranny of the Commonwealth), but they are now alone and isolated in front of the cabin of the downed craft.

He clears his throat slightly in an attempt to catch the attention of his partner.

Sole looks at him.

"Something's wrong, Danse?"

When the realization occurs to the fallen Paladin that he would never again have his title before his name, he swallows hard. But that's not the issue he's having right now.

"I…I'm not really a man of words but…"

Sole erupts in laughter.

"Are you not a man of words? Yes, you ate a dictionary at birth!"

For a few whiles, the poor man panics, unable to restore balance after the sting of Sole. He had seized his courage in both hands in an attempt to open his heart, and his partner had fallen back into amusement. But he needs to tell them. He has to. He knows deep down that he has to.

"Sole, please."

They instantly calm down, recognizing that the man in front of them appears to be death serious.

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't be like that. What I'm trying to say is this—

Sole's expression shifts from calm to dread in an instant, while Danse hears the anger of a beast he despises beyond all in his back. He despises her much more now that she's interfering in such an important situation.

He turns, weapon in hand, to fully answer to the deathclaw, and then follows a long and deadly combat. The beast is fierce and perhaps ancient, and it not easily defeated.

When they eventually prevail against the monster, with a few bites and scratches here and there, Danse don't dare trying again to express himself. And Sole now has to patch them up as soon as they find out a settlement, so they regretfully didn't think to inquire furthermore.

Deacon : His deathly bunny and he jumped into a plethora of wolf dens. Nothing, however, tops being in his favorite den.

The spy like it when Sole stays for the evening and then retires to the back of the HQ for a well-deserved rest. Despite the fact that he does not require sleep himself —as a synth, eh— he enjoys lying on the mattress next to Sole when they ask it, with a roll of the eyes at his answer.

They normally spend a few more moments on their mattresses talking about everything and nothing until one of them falls asleep —more often then none Sole, because Deacon is a synth, yup.

"Tell me again how he almost swallowed his beard."

Sole bursts out laughing.

"I told him to go to hell. That I was only in their camp for my friend Danse, and that by turning their back on him, the entire organization may roast, I would never support them again. Anyway, it's irrelevant now. Let them go to fight like the big boys they are against this blasted Institute and get the heck out of my territory."

Deacon like it when Sole becomes engrossed. The fire in their eyes awakens his heart's hearth. He would never have confessed to them. Never. Never previously has it's not have seems important.

There is still a serious moment, which Sole elaborates on.

"It's very little Deacon, to remain silent and, moreover, serious. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, you know. There isn't much to eat here. Perhaps a programming error. Perhaps I should run a diagnostic."

Sole's chuckling is priceless. Deacon smiles quietly as he listens to the pleasant melody in his ears. They stare at him again when his friend grows still serious.

They sit on the mattress and motion for Deacon to do the same. As he straightens, the spy stares down. Sole is right. He has words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't dare to voice them for the first time in his holy life. Sole gently takes his hands in their, searching for his eyes.

"Deacon, you know you can tell me anything?"

The man glances into the other side and swallows cautiously. Yes, he has the right to tell Sole anything. But what about that? Can he? He has to. He has a debt to Sole. He owes them a frank and honest sincerity. And even the thought seems weird to him. A straightforward and open sincerity? He has no recollection of what it tastes like.

"I'll be honest then," he says, hesitantly, as if he must step into the void. "It's been a while since I should have told you."

He takes a deep breath, ready to blow it all, when an unusually powerful vibration is noticed.

Sole turns their gaze towards the headquarters, and suddenly they hear screaming and gunshots.

"But…"

Deacon leaps to his feet. This kind of roar his still heard in his worst nightmares. Just like the day the Coursers assaulted the old HQ. But isn't Tinker Tom meant to put cameras? How did the Coursers gain access to the facility, this time?

"The Brotherhoods!" yells someone from within.

Sole and Deacon are already on the front lines of defense, positioning themselves to hold the soldiers for as long as it takes for the others to flee. They didn't even need to talk. With Gloria, they hold the line and exchange gunshots with their enemies, keeping them in respect for so long that Deacon is confident their friends will have no problem to disappear in the ruins of Boston. Gloria then makes a strangled gasp and collapses to her knees, her gun no longer firing shots. Deacon peers at her, fear on his face as he realizes his friend has been badly shot.

"Glo!"

A grunt and a thud behind his back make him fear the worst. He attempts to hold the BoS at bay, but his weapon is too slow without Gloria's gatling and Sole's assault rifle.

Desperate, he throws a couple of grenades into the tunnel to gain time, and he manages to push the invaders back slightly.

He rushes alongside Sole right away.

"Eh!"

His friend clutches their bowels in agony, or what remains of them. Deacon wraps his arms around them and softly cradles them.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright. Let's go locate Carrington."

As he glances around, searching in the room... he realizes that the doctor is among the casualties. He growls and attempts to drag Sole further away, hoping to hide them.

"We're going to get through this," he said. "We're going to get through this, I promise" he repeats dejectedly.

“Liar,” breaths Sole before becoming limp in his arms.

Nick Valentine : They came to a halt near the GNN, in the ruins of an abandoned house of which he believes was once a settlement.

He finds it weird that the occupants simply vanished overnight, leaving no trace.

It happens occasionally, such as at University Point, although there are traces. There are dead settlers, downed synths, evidence, and clues.

But here, just the emptiness of tranquility, as if no one had lived there since the war.

But Sole is worn out, hungry, and thirsty, and all he wants is one evening off, possibly one night.

While his companion actually runs aground on a dingy old mattress in the living room of the modest house, Nick ensures that nothing threatens them. When the synth returns from his excursion, his partner hasn't moved one inch.

He moves careful closer.

"Well, ya gotta keep that belly of yours satisfied. And imbibing a beverage would assuredly be a wise course of action."

He was met with a growl in response. He looked around. The previously residents provided a fire pit. He reaches over, takes Sole's bag, and begins cooking something for them.

"I'll rouse you from your slumber once the soup is ready."

Another grunt joins in. He can't help but sneering. Of course, he finds a cauldron (even two) and every necessary instrument in Sole's backpack to prepare the thrifty dinner. Water canes, carrots, and a piece of meat that he starts cutting into small cubes. He whistles merrily, converting himself into a maid of the household, as he frequently does with Sole.

"Ah, the pangs of nostalgia for the flavors of garlic and cilantro doth visit me on occasion. Parsley and mint!

“Salt, pepper,” Sole mumbles under their arm, their head shifting slightly to reach a more comfortable position.

Nick digs deeper into the bag and uncovers a pepper and salt shaker.

"Well, I must say, this here stuff seems to possess quite the remarkable dose of radiation, and it should lacks any discernible flavor."

“Still good,” corrects the other.

Nick chuckles a little and adds the condiments, pleased to be able to improve the soup he's making.

He sits down and glances around the room while waiting for the meal to be ready. It had to have been a nice house. Here had to live a lovely little family. He takes note of the stairs. The bedrooms should be on the second floor. Children, most likely. A pleasant existence.

Normal.

His gaze is drawn to the limp figure on the mattress. His artificial lips slowly form a tiny smile. Sole, in all their magnificence, is a stunning, authoritarian, and noble individual. But the visual of Sole spread out, blindly trusting their companion for safety, entirely abandoned to the sleep that stole them, is something that few can boast of seeing.

And Nick owns it.

He has it all and meticulously details his friend.

And once more, this odd sensation arises in the hollow of his components.

It happens from time to time. Often. More and more. When their gazes cross. When they cheer at a triumph. When a file is closed. When they're simply the two of them at the end of an evening by the fire. When Sole departs for a while and then reappears on his doorstep.

And Nick can no longer mislead himself.

He experiences a feeling. This is not a programming error. His circuits are flawless in that. It's just a true, intense, genuine emotion.

He serves a bowl of soup and kneels next to Sole, softly shaking their shoulder.

"Stand up, Sleeping Beauty, lunch is served!"

Sole scolds and growls but sit in front of Nick, gratefully taking the bowl that their friend hands them. They begin to eat it carefully, as if lost in contemplation. And Nick can't stop admiring them, always fascinated by the elegance of their features and the brightness in their eyes.

His companion frowns as they glance back at him. "I got something stick in my teeth?"

Nick sighs and laughs a little.

"There's absolutely nothin' on here. None of it, pal."

"So what?"

"It seems that this, ah, old carcass of mine hasn't been spinning as smoothly as I'd prefer for quite some time now."

Sole places the dish on the ground, their face etched with anguish and earnestness.

"Nick, what's wrong?"

The synth is astonished.

"Oh, nothing to be awry. Not quite how you're envisioning it. It's just a tough nut to crack."

"Say so, and we'll figure it out together. Perhaps I am able to help you."

He places a sympathetic hand on Nick's metal one, the synth constantly amazed at how tactile Sole is with him despite his nature.

"How can you…help me?"

Even though Sole is the organic, it's Nick who swallows with difficulty. He lowers his head, his eyes hidden by the brim of his fedora, but Sole's hand rises from his to tuck beneath his chin.

"Hello, I'm here. I will always be there for you. No matter what."

After getting some good breaths, Nick takes the plunge to opens his bag. He opens his mouth to respond, but then a radroach erupts between them, knocking the bowl of soup over and driving both to rush to their feet and draw their weapons.

After the "vicious" opponent is dispatched, a nice laugh and a new bowl of soup, Sole raises an eyebrow.

"But what did you want to tell me, before our surprise guest wasted your delicious soup?"

Nick swallows and makes a dismissive hand motion.

"Nothin', absolutely nothin'. Drop it..."

[freetobeeyouandme]

Chapter 9: The Party at the End of the World

It's an early update today because I'm on a train (and might not have time later)! In this one Mike makes some bad decisions, the party goes to a party, and- oh! Someone gets murdered.

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

The morning of the carnival feels chaotic and unstructured compared to the week and then some they’d spent on the road. Hop forgoes their training, and instead he and Mrs. Byers head into town bright and early to find whatever empty rooms might be still available to rent for the night – the one and only time they will do so on this journey because they need somewhere safe to store their things while they attend the festivities. Will and Dustin head out with them to get everyone costumes; it’s a masquerade after all.

They plan to rendezvous at the southern gate at lunch time, which gives the rest of them plenty of time to take down camp and do whatever else they please. Now that he has free time Mike isn’t sure what to do with it, though. He tries going back to sleep after the others leave for town, but finds the day too light already and his internal clock disturbed enough that he can’t. Lucas practices with his own sword after breakfast, so for a moment Mike joins in. But he’s not in the mood for sparing, and without Hop there he doesn’t feel compelled to, so when they’re done going through fighting stances and Mike’s arms begin to feel heavy he calls it a day. Lucas doesn’t protest, just quietly continues on his own.

Mike does what he can to help Max and Jonathan take down the tents, then wanders around aimlessly. He ends up slipping between the trees and away from camp, searching for the small creek they had passed on their way there yesterday. After three days of non-stop running through the woods trying to make it in time the clear water is a welcome sight: Mike has reached the point where he is turning into his mother in regards to his personal hygiene. Dry sweat clings to his shirt and his skin, his hair hangs heavy with grease, and there’s no way the sharp, unpleasant smell that had begun to hang over their camp isn’t what his sister had called teen boy stink. Sure, the rest of them had slacked as much as him, but since they have some time off Mike might as well try to get rid of some of the discomfort – the old fashioned way, since Prestidigitation is not a Paladin spell.

The creek isn’t particularly deep, which makes washing his hair difficult, but Mike kneels at the edge of the water, tries not to flinch at how cold it is, and gives it his best. Lathering up his skin is easy, even though the water makes him shiver, but trying to get the soap to foam in his hair is more difficult. Mike gives up when some of the suds run into his eyes, quickly washing off and drying himself with his undershirt. Then he soaks the shirt and tries to scrub out the worst of the sweat. He doubts he’s really successful, but the soap they’d bought in Loch Nora has a fresh, lemon-y tang to it that at least makes his nose feel better.

He only realizes his mistake when he sits, with a bare chest and a wet shirt, in the chilly early spring air. The day is clear and the sun shines onto his little spot in the woods, warming him, but the goosebumps that had broken out while he washed up don’t retreat. He hangs the undershirt over a low bough to dry and pulls on his tunic for some warmth, then sits down against a tree to wait. He hopes the shirt will be at least mostly dry by the time he has to head back to his friends, but he fears it won’t be.

For a long moment the woods, now no longer interrupted by his splashing, settle into a quiet hum around him. Mike feels himself nod off, then jerks awake when the bushes on the other side of the creek part to reveal a deer. It looks like the proverbial deer in the headlights when it spots him sitting a few feet away from the water. For a second the two of them look at each other and when Mike remains still and seated, the animal carefully approaches the creek. Mike hopes the water has washed away his dirt and soap so that drinking from the creek wont make the deer sick, but the animal seems to be happy enough to lap at the small stream, so he guesses it can’t taste too off.

He and the animal share a peaceful moment – and then the underbrush rustles, again, and it shoots off, startled.

A thin, red cloaked figure steps into the little clearing with Mike, one hand raised as if she wants to plead with the deer to stay. But the animal is already gone.

El pulls down her hood. “Sorry.”

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my posts about this fic, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @generalstorecashier @snixx @camel-casing @bylersbear01 @turningsoft @casatoan @maru-chu @mid13s @goldentrunks @bunnybylerfangirl @willbyersenthusiast @letterstomichelangelo @drowninginideas @fluffyfangirl @artsyna @absolutelynotyouidiot @bymarara @unknowmiau @are-you-reddie @elherself134 @longtallglasses @kennahjune @easilyentertained99 @bylerschapter @eli-being-silly @bylerina

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hello. What’s up? It’s me. Anonymous. You’re good old pal (okay I’ll stop). The Josh drum lesson fic was so cute btw! Gosh I wish I had writing talent. Btw, I’m not sure if you want me to pick an emoji to identify as or if you will pick it, but feel free to assign me one if you want.

So………I had another request………but it’s Tyler this time…..kinda.

Could you do a angsty one shot from when Clancy is in Dema and is forced to make propaganda (Scaled and Icy era. Look, I like Tyler with pink hair okay). He meets the reader (how? It’s up to you. Makeup artist, manager of some sort, etc.). They bond, he tells her in secret about life outside the walls and stuff and sort of gets her on the Bandito’s side. After he escapes (as seen in Saturday), she expects him to somehow get in contact with her again and help her escape Dema, but he never does.

You could end it there or maybe flash forward to the events of Paladin Strait and do something with that, it’s up to you. Thanks for always taking my silly ideas to the next level and making me smile with your work.

Number 16 Cotton Candy - Clancy x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph/Clancy × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, anything related to Dema or the Trench story that's generally triggering

Word Count: 1813 (it’s a big one!)

Summary: Check the request!

Part 2: link

A/N: I’ll give you the 💛 emoji for the yellow banditos! And you’re definitely not alone anon, I freaking love pink hair Tyler (I have a whole pinterest board section dedicated to SAI and Ty’s pink hair) :)

I’d never expected to be working on ‘Good Day Dema’. My family had a long history with the bishops, working for them that is. I remember when the letter came, asking me to be the talent manager for the next season. This ranged from making sure makeup and hair was done to keeping talent company before the show. Except, they didn’t tell me the talent was Clancy, the Clancy. We’d spent a couple days together, me running him through the show, him not saying a single word but listening to all instructions. He’d learnt the choreography, every step and change for the show, but not spoken a single word to anyone but the bishops when asked. I was escorted to a light blue door in the hallway of the soundstage building. 

“He’s in there. You’ll be dying his hair number 16 cotton candy and ensuring he’s ready to film,” one of the assistants said. 

“Thanks,” I smiled sheepishly before walking inside and closing the door. Clancy sat in the corner of the room, his blank eyes staring me down. I nodded over to the chair. He rose to his feet, quietly wandered over and sat in front of me. I’d heard things about him, how he’d escaped into Trench, and was dragged back here. I’d also listened to the new album ‘Scaled and Icy’, a complete 360 from the themes of his letters��not that we were allowed to be reading them. 

“It looks like they’re wanting number 16 Cotton Candy. We’ll have to bleach it,” I said, grabbing the bleach and color from the cabinet, “You good with that?” His eyes darted up to me. 

“You’re asking me?” he asked, his brows furrowed. His voice sounded exactly how it did on the record, except tired. I tried to hide my surprise that he’d responded at all. I nodded. 

“Of course I am. It’s your hair.” Deep down I knew I shouldn’t have been talking to him like this. I was being paid to ensure he looked exactly how the bishops wanted him to, not asking his opinion. 

“Why don’t you just do your job and we can both get this over with?” he spoke with sarcasm dripping from each word. I nodded and got to work with the bleach. The room was quiet except for the radio which was playing SAI on repeat–it was up to Shy Away. 

“I’m sorry about what you’ve had to go through,” I mumbled, completely unsure if I was overstepping a boundary. 

“That’s the price of attempting to escape,” he shrugged and I nodded knowingly. “Have you ever dyed your hair?” he asked, watching me place the foils on his head. 

“Once before. It was a hotter pink, back when we were still allowed to have coloured hair. Do you remember that?”

He nodded. “Yeah I do. My friends were the reason they banned it. They dyed it yellow.” Everyone in Dema knew yellow was a color of rebellion, the color of the banditos (if you even believed in them). Wearing it was almost an instant detainment, or worse. 

“Ah, I remember that,” I smiled softly, remembering the story on the news. “So the bleach is going to take about 30 minutes and then we can do the color. I’ll stay here though, there’s not much for me to do.” The song on the radio switched to Never Take It. “It must be weird to hear your own voice on the radio,” I commented, glad that I was a manager rather than a talent.  

“Yeah, it kinda is. Especially since it’s full of the bishops’ propaganda rather than my own thoughts.” I had a feeling the changes in theme were related to the bishops. “It’s hard to be creative when they’ve got you locked up and use you for entertainment.” The sigh that escaped his chapped lips revealed a level of exhaustion only he knew. 

“Your letters are so different from this,” I spoke, knowing I’d crossed a line and couldn’t go back. He turned around to face me, a confused look on his face.

“You’ve read my letters? How? They’re not allowed in the city.”

“They passed by me when they were first here.” The letters were initially spread from house to house before the bishops found and burned them all. 

“And… what did you think?” I couldn’t tell why he was asking this. What his intentions were. But I could tell he was trying to piece something together. 

“You have a lot to say about our lives here,” I paused before adding, “and Trench. It didn’t end well for you to end up here though.” 

“That’s because I believe everyone deserves to know the truth, whether or not I’m taken back here and used for propaganda is irrelevant. People need to know the truth.” He was ambitious, I’d give him that. I removed the foils and washed his hair before starting with the pink. I grabbed some gloves, mixed the color and started applying it evenly. “You know, you’re pretty for a Dema girl,” he remarked. 

“Does that mean bandito girls are prettier?” I laughed. He shrugged, clearly showing his perspective. “I’m surprised you’ve still got a sense of humor after everything you’ve been through.” His face dropped slightly at that. It was clear that despite being held in a prisoners’ cell this whole time he still had the spark that made him Clancy. It had to be hard but he still had it. 

“I mean it Y/N, you’re pretty… but you should try to leave this place. Out there in Trench everything is different. The colors, the freedom, the creativity. You’ll never want to come back.” His eyes were full of hope. It was clear he was the right person to lead the rebellion. 

“I–I can’t… I’ve got a life here, Clancy,” I sighed. I wanted to, I did. But if he was caught and sent back here then there was no chance I’d even make it out of the walls. He nodded knowingly. 

“I understand. Just know there is always a place for you at the camp.” I finished up his color, washed the dye off in the sink, and styled it for the show. We continued talking about Trench and the banditos, what life was like out there. I reminded him that the bishops wanted a performance for the annual assemblage, slightly disappointed that I hadn’t been invited to manage him. Once his hair was finished and makeup done I turned the chair around. A soft smile grew on his face. 

“I like it. Thank you,” he got up and pulled me in an embrace. His hair smelt of the shampoo I’d used, vanilla. 

“You’re welcome. I’ve got your jacket over here,” I reached to the side and picked it up, the brown fabric soft against my hands. He turned around as I helped him into it. What he did next surprised me. His hands reached up to cup my face. His forehead leant against mine, a few tears escaping his eyes before turning into sobs, his face scrunching up. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” I hushed, trying to calm him down. 

“I’m scared Y/N,” he stuttered. His eyes darted left and right, searching for something. I tried my best to reassure him that it was okay. 

“You don’t need to be,” I lied. He had every right to be scared. At any minute the bishops could kill and seize his vessel. It was then that I made the decision to kiss him. It was a quick kiss, an unsure one. 

“Oh so now you decide to do that,” he chuckled before pulling me close and walking us back till we hit the wall. Our bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as our lips danced. I could feel the thud of his heartbeat, terrified of the consequences if we were caught. The song on the radio switched to Redecorate, my favorite on the record. I ran my fingers through his coloured hair before pulling away. 

“You’re going to get called on soon,” I said, knowing that I’d likely never seen him again after today. 

“Ok,” he nodded. “I need you to know that this,” he gestured between us, “wasn’t just for the sake of today. I like you Y/N, there’s something special about you.” There was a loud knock on the door and we stepped away from each other. 

“Are you nearly done in there?” the assistant's voice chirped from outside. 

“Yep, we need about 10 more minutes and he’ll be ready to perform!” I shouted back. I could hear her footsteps leave. 

“I like you too, Clancy,” I hummed, once I knew we were alone again. 

“If I ever get out, just know I’ll come back for you. I promise, I’ll get you out,” he vowed. I embraced him and pressed my lips to his one last time before escorting him out to the soundstage. 

“Good luck out there,” I tried desperately to not cry, saying goodbye for the last time. 

Two years later the bishops had released a search notice for Clancy. The submarine that the annual assemblage had been held on sank due to “an unknown number of errors on board.” It took everything in me not to believe he was dead. The bishops insisted he wasn’t and what would they gain from lying about their enemy’s death? I was sure he would reach out, tell me he was okay, but it was radio silence. I’d removed myself from Good Day Dema’s set and spent all my time in my room. It was the same thing every day, work. Working to please the bishops and brainwash the entire city that Vialism was the only way. Except for one night, exactly one year after the notice was issued, three years since I’d heard anything from Clancy. I was reading through a new manuscript for the show and making notes for the new episode. The air in the room went still, I wasn’t alone. A man with curly brown hair with the underside dyed red stood by the door. He was wearing a black vest and a bandana with ‘torchbearer’ written on it. It had scared the shit out of me.

“I know you,” I stood up, “you’re Clancy’s friend.”

“Indeed I am,” his expression remained blank, a calm and stoic leader—exactly how Clancy had described him. I couldn’t decide whether to hug him or kill him.

“He’s alive?”

Torchbearer nodded. A wave of relief flooded over me.

“We request your presence at the town hall tonight. Please do your best to come. I was directly asked to ensure you attend.”

I was going to see him. Clancy had survived. He was coming back. Coming back for me. I was getting out of here. I was going to get to hold him again.

Except it wasn’t him. He’d seized a boy and pretended to be there. Clancy wasn’t even in Trench.

//

Hope you liked it 💛! I’m definitely open to writing a part two but not sure where it would go… keep requesting tho bc ur requests brighten my day!

[enigmatist17]

100% unrelated, but @timethehobo 's Zevlor art is a balm to the soul, so check them out 👀

But have some Zevlor whump, I adore the hell out of the tieflings as a whole, and this man is my absolute favorite of them all 🥺🥰🥺

------------------

Tav wasn't an inherently violent person, they really weren't. Their philosophy was to give kindness and ask for nothing in return, especially in a world ruled by fear and suspicion these days.

So the snarl that comes from Tav when they come across a truly pitiful scene is enough to startle a group of people crowded over someone on the ground, the hero having caught sight of a familiar figure.

"You have five seconds to run, or you're not walking out of here." Tav doesn't have enough time to pull out a dagger before the group is scattering further down a nearby alley, Astarion following after with a smirk after Tav nods their head.

"Zevlor, are you alright!?"

There's a groan of pain as the hunched figure on the ground shuffles to push themselves off the ground, the tiefling looking worse for wear as Tav moves to kneel down by his side.

"I've been better." The bravado the hero had always known in his voice is gone, and Tav's heart clenches when Zevlor recoiled for a moment when they reach out to examine his injuries, the paladin giving a weak cough and glancing away. "Sorry, I'll be alright."

"You are not alright, let me help you." The tiefling shrugs as Halsin helps Tav get Zevlor up and onto his feet, acting the stronger anchor as the man discovers one of his ankles refuse to hold his weight. "Come on, camp isn't far."

"There's no need for me to impose, surely."

"Nonsense, you require aid, and we provide." Halsin's gentle but firm tone quiets any other protests Zevlor has, and the paladin carefully limps along cobbled streets with Tav hovering not far behind. "It is good to see you friend, however dire the circumstances."

"Story of my life." Zevlor's chuckle is dry, missing the look Tav and Halsin share when Astarion seems to just appear on his free side, looking quite pleased with himself and Zevlor's noticeably still full pack slung across his shoulder. The camp seemed to be gearing up to begin settling down for the evening, Shadowheart handed over the knife she'd been using to prep some vegetables to Lae'zel when she noticed his limping.

"You changed your hair." The cleric gives him a brief smile as they lead him to one of the spare tents dotted around the dock he couldn't name, getting to work once he'd been set down on a bedroll.

"Thank you." She was still curt as ever, but the tiefling just sighed in relief when the pain subsided dramatically a few minutes later. "I'll have someone bring you dinner once we finish, you're to not walk on that leg at least for the night."

"I couldn't possibly impose.." Shadowheart just raised an eyebrow before getting up to her feet and heading back, and Zevlor just sighed and laid back with a quiet groan. The barely visible stars were of some comfort as he listens to the nightlife beyond their little corner ramping up, such a strange thing after being in the Shadowlands for a spell. Well, he supposed he couldn't quite call it that anymore, but it had still taken the man days to travel through the remains of the twisted area.

Zevlor blinks, and suddenly the sky is dark and the stars shine bright, someone gently shaking his side.

"Was wondering when you'd decide to wake up." The familiar voice catches his attention, and to his dear surprise Rolan is standing a few feet away with a bowl in one hand, and a mug in the other. The man looks almost....smaller than Zevlor remembered, dark bruises littering his face that made his blood turn to ice. "Time to eat, you're lucky I managed to save you anything."

"I -"

"I said eat." Zevlor blinks when the other pretty much shoves the food into his hands, but keeps his tongue quiet as he gratefully devours everything. Rolan had wandered off while he was eating, but returned soon enough with a sturdy pillow and some folded blankets, setting them on the edge of his bedroll.

"Thank you." The sorcerer hesitates while Zevlor carefully stretches, eyes flickering around the camp before he clears his throat.

"I am...pleased you are safe." The former leader glances up with a small smile, and for a moment they just stare at each other. "I'm sorry, for what we said."

"What do you have to apologize for? I let everyone down, and it's my burden to bear the lives I helped extinguish." Rolan frowned as Zevlor held his gaze, and slowly knelt down so they were eye to eye. "I'm the one to apologize."

"This Absolute is an insidious poison, which breaks down anyone, no matter who they are." Rolan shook his head with a sigh. "It's no balm to heal what's been done, but you don't deserve to languish in the streets."

"I'm not sure what I deserve these days...but thank you, friend." The ache in his heart eases when Rolan pats his shoulder, surprising from the normally haughty man he'd known.

"Get some rest, we'll have use for you I'm sure." Rolan sniffed and got to his feet, looking down at Zevlor with a slight hum. "Pleasant dreams."

"Same to you."

The tiefling watches the camp inhabitants chat amongst each other or keep to themselves, and the burden in his heart eases even more when he's sent small smiles or waves, instead of anger or hatred that he'd been expecting.

He rests easy that night, dreaming of the time to come instead of that past he had lost.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 40

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Heart of the Scorpion by crystalklances

Lance has a big old crush on the school's Soccer Captain, Keith. He tries to deny having a crush even while their every interaction sends his heart aflutter. Romantic horoscopes and secret love letters? Totally not related to Keith. Luckily, heart and stars align to prove him wrong.

i will fucking miss crystalklances every single day of my life he was a PILLAR. i wish he had kept his account and just abaondoned it but im grateful at least that he only orphaned his fics and didnt delete it. he had so much to write about the college scene and soft klance and them being tender and soft and open about it!! he also often gave keith parents and he almost ALWAYS wrote trans lance like he invented the tag!! crystalklances i miss you and this was one of my favourite fics of yours

2. It's Not Spying If You Don't Call It Spying by @jilliancares

Turns out everyone is spying on Lance and Keith's blossoming relationship.

this is truly so goofy and silly and the team is SO so nosy and they need to be involved in 110% of klance's shit. as they deserve tbh. theyre all so annoying and i support all of their crimes

3. i wanna love you (but i don't know if i can) by @rickybowens

So, of course, that was when Hunk had said, "You know, it's really good that we're all friends here. I feel like it always gets awkward when two people in a group start dating, you know?" "Well, I don't think we have to worry about that with this group," Pidge had piped up, "I love you all, but there's no way in hell I'd date any of you." Everyone else had murmured their agreement, except for Lance and Keith, who had shared a look before trying to discreetly scoot away from the other. (Or, Lance and Keith decide to date in secret so their relationship doesn't make their teammates uncomfortable. It goes about as well as is to be expected.)

secret relationship you will ALWAYS be famous. its literally my favourite trope idc!! and this arc made SO much sense in terms of a reason for them to be dating in secret!! i loved how the team was the problem but that was very much not their intention but it made sense why klance was afraid and just...this whole fic was cinema truly i love it so so much

4. Of Pidge, Perception, and Prosecution by @erinnovelist

Of all the paladins, Lance knew Pidge was the one he had to watch out for. The only time her guard was down was after she woke up. She didn’t talk, glasses discarded after long hours staring at a screen, and she couldn’t function properly without her daily cup of coffee-equivalent alien juice. Which was why, when he wandered into the kitchen that morning, Lance hadn’t expected Pidge to zero in on him and ask, “When did you and Keith start fucking?”

teehee this one made me giggle its so ridiculous. and yes i did scroll thru the secret relationship tag again idc its so good!! i love the idea of klance thinking theyre so so sneaky and the whole time pidge is like yeah bitch ive been knew yall aint subtle in the slightest

5. Shifting Rock by @ohcontrary

Shiro is back with the team and things are... difficult, but getting easier. But even as he feels more and more like himself, he notices how his relationships have change. It's possible his relationship with Lance is changed irreparably. Luckily, the mission they go on gives them a chance to talk. But on a trip so perilous, they'll need to pay attention-- It isn't just their relationship that's on shaky ground.

lance and shiro NEEDED to talk fr. if ur gonna pretend the later seasons happened then they needed to CHAT. and what better place to chat then mortal peril and the threat of being crushed to death!! holy metaphors!!

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[sparrowsong-7]

Character Dump Time!

Figured I'd keep an up to date primer on all my OCs, since some of their details have changed.

(Updated as of 9/26/2024)

Ayami Ami (formerly Ayami Tsukimori)

Age: 22 (post EW)

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Trans Woman

Jobs: Black Mage, Red Mage, Summoner, Pictomancer, Reaper, Samurai

Born as an Au Ra to the Tsukimori Family, Ayami had a rather rough childhood, something that reached a head when she ran away from her home at the tender age of 11. Her lonesome journey took her to Ul'Dah, where she'd live on the streets until Cocobuki of the Thaumaturge's Guild took pity on the girl, bringing her inside and changing her life forever. Eventually she would hear the call of adventure and set out with her best friend Mel in search of glory.

Throughout her journey, Ayami has gone from a meek, unassuming adventure to a veritable force of nature. She would also transform from an awkward Au Ra to a confident Lalafell thanks to a rather potent Fantasia. Rather than seeking fame and fortune, Ayami instead used her new form to fake her death, leading the world to believe that Ayami Tsukimori perished during the Final Days.

Now going by the name Ayami Ami, she wanders where her heart may take her, taking in the sights and knowledge that she stumbles across.

Memello Mello

Age: 25 (post EW)

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Cis Woman

Jobs: Machinist, Gunbreaker, Dark Knight

A Sharlayan runaway, Memello (often simply Mel) grew up as a magitek prodigy in a family that had no care for the machines. In a fit of desperation, frustration, and fear Mel stole as many supplies and gadgets as she could from a gleaner store house and caught the quickest boat to Eorzea, hoping to start a new life using her skills. While Mel had nothing to her name her prowess made waves that would soon reach the ears of one Cid Garlond, who would quickly offer the young girl a job at the Garlond Ironworks.

She would eventually cross paths with Ayami Tsukimori, irrevocably changing the course of both their lives. Some years later, they would set out together in search of adventure, hoping to strike it big. What they never expected was to be recruited to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, eventually becoming Warriors of Light.

Unfortunately, after Zenos took her leg and her confidence in their climactic battle at the edge of existence, Mel was left unable to continue her adventuring. This, followed by the loss of her love Crescent, Mel spiraled into a deep depression, one that she had only recently recovered from.

Crescent Sparrowsong

Age: 31 (?)

Pronouns: They/them

Gender: Non-Binary

Jobs: Reaper, Paladin

Born to the Seventh Epopt of Troia 31 years before the Flood of Darkness, Crescent was seen as an enigma by their people. Eschewing from the traditional norms of Troian society, Crescent instead took up the blade, spending their life training to one day lead Troia's military. That day eventually came, and with it the Contramemoria...

When the dust had settled and the world was consumed, Crescent took to floating aimlessly in the abyss the their world, their memories slowly fading until one day they stumbled upon a void gate with a voice that beckoned them forward; Hear, Feel, Think

Crescent would find themself in the snows of Coerthas, body formed back into its original shape. From there, they would attempt to pick up the pieces and figure out just where they were and how they wound up here.

L'vinia "Fay"

Age: 1500+

Pronouns: It/Its

Gender: Ungendered (Doll)

Jobs: Machinist*

*L'vinia doesn't fall under the standard job umbrella, drifting closer to being a gunslinger than a machinist.

Dormant for over 1500 years, L'vinia was discovered by an expedition team in the ruins of a Amdapori fringe town just on the outskirts of the Twelves Wood. Its dormant body transferred hands countless time as a curiosity before winding up in the hands of the Seedseers of Gridania. There it would remain until its body came into direct contact with Ayami, stirring L'vinia to life once more.

Once obedient to a fault, L'vinia was freed from the enchantment placed upon it by its former master with the help of Ayami and Cait Sith. Now truly free for the first time in its life, L'vinia chose to steal a Manacutter and fly off to parts unknown, leaving only a note begging its former friends not to follow. Where it's been all this time is a mystery to everyone, though talk has been spreading in Shaaloani of an unkillable gunman who bears a striking resemblance to the wayward Doll...

Corin "Fay"

Age: 27

Pronouns: She/They

Gender: Intersex Woman

Jobs: White Mage, Pictomancer

An orphan left for dead by the mages of Mhach, Corin was found by the enigmatic Lady Fay and brought in to study the arts of White Magic in kingdom of Amdapor. There, she wiled away the hours, growing closer with her fellow apprentice L'Vinia. All seemed right with the world.

But then Mhach attacked, sending legions of voidsent to attack Amdapor Keep during what would one day be called the War of the Magi. Panicked and afraid, Corin was shepherded along by Lady Fay into being the centerpiece of a ritual drawn up to fling her through time. Unfortunately, the ritual put Corin into a half stasis, locking her in the rift until the appropriate point in time had been reached. Now over 1500 years late, Corin awakes in a bed in Mel's cottage, bereft of memories.

[elysiumnotes]

I am putting this list out there with absolutely no explanation. It is justified in my heart and I take only some criticism.

p.s. this is based purely off of vibes and not actual character building or stat blocking techniques.

Jason Gideon - Aberrant Mind Sorcerer/Way of the Astral Self Monk

Aaron Hotchner - Oath of the Crown Paladin (no question)

Spencer Reid - Order of Scribes Wizard (also no question)

Penelope Garcia - College of Creation Bard (absolutely no question)/Life Domain Cleric(very likely subclass)

Derek Morgan - College of Swords Bard/Battle Master Fighter

Jennifer ‘JJ’ Jareau - Fey Wanderer Ranger/Cavalier Fighter

Elle Greenaway - Echo Knight Fighter or Way of the Long Death Monk or Warlock of the Undying

Emily Prentiss - Phantom or Assassin’s Rogue (definitely the first one)

David Rossi - War Caster & Enchantment Wizard/Ancestral Guardian Barbarian (okay, this one I’ll actually give an explanation for…. He is through and through a Wizard main, but back in the day when the BAU was first started with Gideon, neither of them were good fighters. Especially Gideon being kinda lanky back then, so Rossi took some levels in Barbarian to ensure they had some muscle when they got into a few scrapes. Eventually when they separated as partners, he went back to focusing on his Wizard stats)

Tara Lewis - Divination Wizard (no doubts)

Luke Alvez - Champion Fighter or Totem Warrior Barbarian/Tempest Domain Cleric

Matt Simmons - Devotion Paladin/Champion Fighter

Stephen Walker - Oath of the Crown Paladin

Kate Callahan - Hunter Ranger/Twilight Domain Cleric

Ashley Seaver - Great Old One Warlock

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 2

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title:  Traitor

Notes: /

Warnings: Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn...

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  2/ It's a secret.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By the second day alone in the woods, you were starving and exhausted from the walking. A few berries was all you had eaten. With the sword, you at least had a way to protect yourself, it came in handy when scaring off predators who lurked in the wild, even if it was only by tapping the steel loudly against a rock to do so.

The circumstances weren’t good, but at least you were free from that dungeon and the Monk had killed the Brothers.

The Hidden had made you heal a traitor and left you drained. It bothered you to no end and you took consolation in the fact that the bastard had at least gotten rid of those sadistic Brothers in return.

The first drop of rain falling on your hand had you cursing to the high heavens. How long could you survive like this in soaked clothing? By closing your jacket more, you hoped it would protect your bodice and shirt from getting wet.

Minutes of gushing rain turned into hours and that hope was long gone by the time you finally reached a village in the evening.

The cross-bearing sword of the Church would draw attention in the hands of a Fey, still you would not part with the only weapon you had.

If you could ‘find’ something to eat while avoiding curious eyes it would have you one step in the right direction.

A merchant was loading baskets of wares on his wagon and you waited for the right time to run past and steal a loaf of bread. The shouting of the merchant drew unwanted attention and you ran through the streets to avoid getting caught.

It had been quite some time since stealing was necessary, being imprisoned in a dungeon had prevented you from doing so.

By hiding behind stacks of crates, you lost any pursuers and began to eat the bread.

Where were the days were you could sit in the grass with friends and family to eat together? Now a meal was eaten behind crates filled with smelly fish. The life of a Fey wasn’t easy.

The running had exhausted you further, the healing of a heavily wounded person took a lot of energy.

Across the cobblestone street, you saw a child, Fey kind.

The young boy was chewing on an apple and drawing the attention from Manbloods, if one of them snitched to a Red Paladin…

You left your hiding spot to approach the boy, quickly taking him by the shoulder. “Boy, why are you wandering the streets alone like this?”

The boy looked you up and down. “That’s none off your business.”

Oh, really?

You whispered, “Then it will be none of my concern if one of the Manbloods tells a Paladin about a Fey wandering the streets.”

“My Fey camp was attacked by paladins.” He admitted.

You understood that he had fled a massacre and ended up here alone. “I’m sorry. Are you wounded?”

Apart from a healed cut on the side of his head, the boy seemed healthy, he shook his head.

“My name is y/n, what’s yours?”

“Squirrel.” He answered, feeling less wary of you after you had shown concern over his well-being.

You thought you had misheard him. “Squirrel?”

He nodded while taking another bit of his apple.

With those chubby cheeks filled with food, you began to understand it was probably a nickname given to him. “I like it.”

“Are you here alone too?” Squirrel asked.

“I am. I just escaped the Weeping Monk.” You admitted.

The boy’s eyes widened. “You escaped too? He caught me in the woods not long ago and killed the ones who tried to save me from him. Then he let me go.”

You were astounded at the news that the Weeping Monk had let a Fey child go. “He let you go?”

Squirrel nodded. “He said to tell the Fey that he was coming for them.”

That wasn’t something you hoped to hear, it was a blatant threat to your kind from that traitor.

“Typical for a paladin to scare children.” You quietly mumbled.

“Where did you find bread?” He looked at the bread in your hands.

“Where did you find the apple?” You shared a grin.

With a mischievous smirk, Squirrel just about admitted that he had stolen the fruit too.

You proposed the idea, “If we stay together, we can help each other?”

He squinted his eyes for a moment, then agreed to it. “Sounds fine to me.”

You broke a piece from the bread and offered it to Squirrel, who eagerly accepted it.

At last you weren’t alone anymore and you took Squirrel to walk into streets that were less crowded.

While chewing, he suddenly asked, “Isn’t that the Weeping Monk’s sword?”

Once you had had your own sword, it was stolen from you by Ives, now the sword of the notorious Monk rested at your side.

“It is. I stole it from him.” You told the boy the truth.

It piqued his interest. “Did you steal anything else?”

Well, the boy clearly had nothing against theft…

You sighed. “No. I wish I had stolen more of him. We could have sold it and used the coin for food.”

Squirrel patted you on the arm amicably. “Don’t worry, y/n. We can just steal food.”

Some merchants even refused to sell to Fey kind. “I wish we didn’t have to steal.”

The boy offered what was left of the apple and you took a single bite before handing it back to him. “Are you Sky Folk?”

“Yes. What sort of Fey are you?” Squirrel asked.

You thought of lying about it, but it felt wrong to lie to a child who was Fey just like you. “Dawn Folk.”

Squirrel was in awe, Dawn Folk were considered rare. “Really? Is it true that Dawn Folk can heal people?”

You held up a hand playfully. “Yup. I’ve healed quite a lot of people already. "

He brought up another rumor about your kind, “And you can hear the Hidden?”

It was true, the Hidden often made themselves known to Dawn Folk. “Sometimes. Hey, listen. We should find a place to rest tonight, do you know of a place?”

Squirrel did not worry about that at all. “I’ve been sleeping in a shed, it’s big enough for both of us.”

Thank the heavens for this boy and his will to survive. “Excellent. Lead the way.”

The young Fey boy showed you the way to this abandoned shed, and after ‘borrowing’ some wool sheets from around the village the two of you were able to turn it into a small cozy space to rest in.

It wasn’t much but it held the rain and cold out quite well. It was enough.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After spending a few days with that young rascal whilst hiding in the village, you grew quite fond of him.

Squirrel sure had his wits and he often disappeared from your sight, leaving you worried sick until he returned like nothing ever happened.

The two of you worked together to ‘retrieve’ the necessary things to survive. The food you were able to gather wasn’t much, but it was enough to survive day by day.

During one of these plans to retrieve some freshly baked goods, it all went terribly wrong.

A group of paladins had been scouring the market as well and spotted poor Squirrel, the boy had to run.

You darted after the group to try and save Squirrel from them.

“Hey!” You shouted at them when they did not stop chasing the boy.

One of them stopped, took one look at you and then called out for his red Brothers, “Brothers! IT’S THE GIRL!”

How could you have known that the Monk had given them your description, what you wore and how you looked like, to find you?

By darting into the other direction, you led them away from Squirrel.

You rounded a corner, by the time you saw the paladin he was already swinging at you with the pommel of his sword and it struck against the side of your head.

It was like the light had just went out instantly, long before your body hit the ground.

The group of paladins stopped to watch you lay on the ground unconscious, the one who had struck you down quickly left and returned with the Monk.

“Is this the girl, Brother?” The paladin hoped for good news.

The Monk had awoke alone in the forest, covered in blood but alive and healed.

After the disorientation had passed, the search for you began.

His brothers had received one order from him personally, to find the Fey girl and bring her to him.

His Weeping Brother knelt down briefly, barely acknowledging his presence now. “Put her on the wagon. We return to Father at once.”

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

The wheel of the wagon hit a rock on the road and woke you. That headache…

It was still daylight so you could not have lost much time, at least you hoped that was the case.

Your hands were bound in the way that you remembered they had been before. The sword at your side was missing and when you lifted your head up a little, you saw the Monk riding on his horse not far behind the wagon.

The cold steel of a sword touched your cheek suddenly.

“Stay down, Fey whore.” One of the paladins, who rode the wagon with you, warned and made you remain as you were.

The wagon hit another rock and pain shot through your head. It was like they had picked the most rocky road on purpose, maybe they had.

By the time you arrived at the Red Paladin’s camp, you felt sick.

They had to pull you up and out of the wagon, they weren’t careful in the slightest.

The Monk took over and steered you towards one of the biggest tents in the middle of the camp.

“Traitor.” You hissed at him when no other could hear.

He stopped dead in his tracks to look at your face, hatred had it’s home in the way you looked back at him.

The will to please Father overrode the fear that his secret could be exposed.

You were pulled into the tent by him and put on your knees in front of Father Carden.

“Is this the girl?” The priest looked at his Monk with expectation.

“Yes, Father.” The Monk replied obediently, then told you, “Speak your name.”

The priest cared not for your name. “Her name is of no importance. Tell me, girl, is it true you can heal the wounded?”

The cloak of silence fell over you again, you weren’t willing to converse with that paladin scum.

Father Carden was not impressed. “Ah, she is stubborn. Bring her along.”

The priest walked out of the tent and towards another large one, the Monk had a strong hold on your arm to make you follow.

Once inside this tent, it was clear that this one was used as an infirmary for sick and wounded paladins.

One was chosen, a large blood stain on the paladin’s stomach had ruined his robes.

“Heal him, or you will burn like the rest.” Father Carden threatened.

The Monk placed you next to the cot with the dying paladin.

This would hurt. The heavier they were wounded, the more energy it took from you to heal them.

You didn’t even notice how much you were shaking until you had to place your hands on the paladin’s chest.

The paladin’s breathing rattled, he was dying.

You wanted him to die.

They must have seen your hesitation and reluctance.

The Monk came close enough to whisper, “Heal him. Set your anger aside or it will cost you your life.”

A murderous glare was send his way and you wished he had died in that forest so you wouldn’t be here now.

You were anything but gentle and pushed on the wound a little while letting your magic flow to heal.

When it was over, you were on your knees on the ground and shaking heavily while the paladin looked like he had never even been wounded.

“God smiles on us today, my son.” Father Carden expressed his joy to the Monk. “The girl will serve her purpose here. After she has healed all, bring her to the tent, make sure she cannot escape.”

The priest grabbed hold of your chin, demanding you look up at him. “You serve the Church now, girl.”

By spitting in his face, you brought across your opinion on the matter.

Not a tear went to waste when he slapped you in return, the Brothers had gotten you used to it.

Father Carden left the tent and wiped off his face with his sleeve.

The Monk hooked an arm under yours and helped you to your feet again.

That bruise on your cheek must have just healed and now another was in it’s place.

This defiance would bring you no gifts from Father.

“Heal them. The weakest ones first.” He steered you to the ones who had lost a lot of blood from various injuries.

By the time you healed the last one in that tent, you could barely stand.

The sun had gone down about an hour ago.

The Monk walked you out of the tent and you lost the strength in your legs just outside the entrance. The cold grass under you wasn’t helping in the slightest.

There was some form of mercy from him as he let you remain on the ground for a while to regain your strength.

You were exhausted, hungry, and parched for a sip of water.

The mixture of discomfort had you into a state were your head felt oddly light.

With a distant look in your eyes you stared at the ground, and it almost felt as if the energy of nature was very slowly healing you through the soil.

In the meantime, the Monk stood beside you and waited. There was little trust, because his hand never left the pommel of his sword as it rested at his side.

A little while later, he touched your shoulder and then pulled you up.

He brought you to a tent guarded by paladins and walked inside with you.

There was a pathetic wool blanket on the floor, stale bread and a tankard of water you doubted was clean. And still you let him sit you down on the spot, the short walk was already too much.

All you wanted to do was sleep and hope your energy was returned by morning.

He was looking down at you, seeing you suffer after using your powers.

Had the healing truly weakened you so?

Was this what had happened after you had done it to him?

You turned to face away from him, weakly calling him, “Traitor.” again.

At that, you heard him walk away and leave the tent.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

They did not even allow you time to sleep until you were rested. Paladins came to collect you at dawn and brought you back to the infirmary where a fresh batch of wounded paladins waited to be healed.

Why had the Hidden cursed you with this power?

At least they did not appear to be as wounded as the previous ones had been.

It didn’t cost much energy to heal them and you did it slower.

One made a filthy comment, “I know someplace else she could put her hands.”

Around his throat to strangle him?

His Red Brothers laughed, further fueling your hatred for those drapes.

Only when your eyes glowed green upon healing, did they fall silent.

“Witch…”

You heard them utter the word among each other.

A paladin entered the infirmary tent. “Brothers, Father ordered for the girl to be taken to the monastery. Others are waiting to be healed there.”

Your heart sank at the announcement, if they forced you to heal others today it could result in your health declining rapidly after yesterday.

The entrance of the tent was unguarded for the first time when the paladins were too distracted by talking to each other.

They really did underestimate you…

When you sprinted out of the tent, they no longer ignored you.

You didn’t stop running and collided with others in your track, baskets with fruits your stomach so craved fell over as you bumped into them.

A couple of horses stood tied with their reins at a hitching post, loosely tied…

From experience you knew that the black steed would not let you get on, so you aimed for the brown mare.

The mare’s reins were untied swiftly, you put your foot in the stirrup and began to pull yourself up into the saddle.

A firm tug at the back of your vest had you falling backwards into the Monk’s chest.

He had been busy caring for Goliath when he noticed your escape.

Freedom was so close and your will to fight returned, you tried to claw at his face.

He must have anticipated it, the bastard moved you a step back and used his lower leg to make you lose your balance.

You were on the ground, looking up at the Monk who had yet to draw his sword.

The paladins rushed over to aid him.

With a gesture of his hand, he ordered them to stay where they were.

Surrounded by enemies, the Monk seemingly offered you the chance to surrender.

He came closer and tried to take hold of your arm, you smacked it away bitterly.

“Bastard!” The insult was thrown at him.

With an agitated sigh, he ignored your protest and roughly pulled you up from the ground.

The paladins bore witness to how you tried to hit him.

It was far from an equal opponent, he had your arm blocked behind your back within seconds, your back against his chest again. You hated having the enemy breathing down your neck, it was instinct to be unnerved by strangers being behind you.

“Bring the wagon!” He barked the order at his red brothers.

They scurried off to do his bidding.

When you didn’t stop struggling, he used his other hand to grab your throat, it stilled you instantly.

“Stop it.” The Monk was far calmer than you were.

He was quiet for a moment, and then you heard him inhale close to your neck.

You recoiled upon sensing it happen, he stopped immediately and acted like nothing strange had occurred.

As a woman being held a prisoner in a camp full of men, it scared the living daylight out of you when something like this happened.

The Monk let go off your throat when noticing the fear in you. “You will heal those at the monastery. Do as you are told and I will see to it that you will not sleep with hunger tonight.”

By trying to step on his toes, he took that as a ‘No.’

“I see you have made your choice.” There was disappointment in his tone.

A paladin who had returned piped up, “Hit her, Brother!”

The Monk gravely disliked to hear how a paladin tried to command him now. “Why? Can you not handle one Fey girl?”

It was to remind them who had let this happen in the first place.

Once the paladin was put in his place, he ordered for a rope to be handed to him.

He bound your hands in front of you again, it made you think that he preferred to be able to easily see them, just in case…

The wagon was brought forth and the Monk placed you on it, then appointed the two paladins himself who would travel on the back of the wagon with you.

After the Monk went to retrieve his horse, the red priest came out of the large tent and seemed oblivious to what had transpired moments ago.

It would not surprise you if they all kept information from the priest in fear of repercussions.

The mist that hanged in the air made the weather feel colder than it actually was, your trousers, vest and worn down boots did little to shield you from it.

This time the paladins on the wagon weren’t as hostile, alert yes, but not as aggressive.

Considering you would be forced to heal more at the monastery, you took the liberty of trying to get some sleep against a bag filled with linen to be washed. A time would come where they would be distracted again, and you would flee the hell you had found yourself in.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​​  @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda​​

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[whatanightmaregrinch]

Paladin Danse x Fem! Sole Survivor- it’s all over but the crying

[ note: this is set after the events of the main story, sole followed the BoS route. This drabble deals with themes of mental health, and loss. Please read at your own discretion! ]

All was quiet in Sanctuary. Night had descended, and the gentle hum of the Bloodbugs were far away. If you pretended hard enough, it reminded you of the way Cicadas used to shout into the night, giving the evenings a natural ambience. This was similar, but Cicadas couldn’t turn a man into a drink carton, insides sucked out and carcass discarded for Bloatflies to feed on in the morning. You lent further back into your chair, which squeaked in discomfort at your actions. You’d taken to relaxing by the back door on nights like this, unable to stop your eyes wandering to the night sky to gaze at the moon. Before the Great War, it was normal to hear the sound of vertibirds, giant monstrous things, storm through the skies over the suburbs as they traveled to bases and distant lands alike to fight their wars. Now they only ever made pace from the Prydwen, and the sky was no longer a reminder to you that you had lived on the very edge of peace and destruction. Your deep thought was disturbed by a light turning on in the kitchen, and a soft but firm footfall approach from within.

Your companion, Danse, appeared. He hesitated upon seeing you lost in thought, but you smiled at him and his stiff posture relaxed somewhat, feeling more confident that he’d not interrupted a preferred solitude. He faltered for just a moment upon noticing there was only one chair which you were currently inhabiting, but decidedly shut the back door and came to sit down on the floor next to you. He seemed to have difficulty for a moment, before settling into a more comfortable position. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him, he looked so awkward , even if he did seem settled. He looked up at you, his usually stern expression soft in its mild confusion. “Is something wrong?” He enquired, and you found yourself shaking your head. “I just didn’t expect you to do that, I suppose I found it funny.” You explained, and he just nodded, following suit as you returned your gaze to the stars.

Since his expulsion from the Brotherhood (and subsequently discovering his true identity) he had been quieter than usual, but you understood well that pain took a long time to subside, especially great traumas such as his. It was difficult for him to grapple with all he’d been indoctrinated to believe and all that he was- how poorly he had acted to those you considered friends, allies and family. On his shittier days, he’d allow that guilt to fuel his self-loathing; and in turn, his mood would sour. He’d retreat as far into himself as he could, moving around the wasteland with you on autopilot. You minded not, you knew not to take his feelings and tone towards you personally. He was never rude to you anyway: sometimes curt, but never had he offended you or made you feel unsafe. You’d been in a similar way after your incarceration and staggered escape from Vault 111. You didn’t know who to trust with your pain, so you did not speak of it. Not until you stumbled through the gates of Cambridge Police station, responding to the somewhat desperate shouts of Danse and his team as they battled feral ghouls. Not until Knight Rhys (of all people) questioned you about your motives, swearing you intended to shit on everything he held dear. Back then, your priority had been finding Shaun. Now? It was picking up the pieces that your son had left behind, wounding the already scarred landscape with more radiation and debris in order to stop the organization that had grown him into the monster he had become. Trying to return to whatever normalcy life in this time offered was difficult for both of you, and neither of you judged each other for having battles too big for you to fight. You had seen him at his worst, held his shaking and crying form as he cursed his existence into the night. He had been your stability when you mourned Nate, and you often visited the grave you’d made for him together. He would sit silently by your side, listening to you as you spoke to Nate, talking about all that he had missed and never got to experience. Together you’d drink a Gwinnett Stout in his memory, and Danse would sometimes talk to Nate too. He would sternly promise the headstone that he’d been keeping you safe in his absence, and it brought you much comfort.

The relationship that you two shared had no name attached to it, not that you minded. Without words, you’d almost settled into a domestic partnership. Even though Danse was now aware he could not sleep for days with little consequence to his well-being, you’d approach him each time you felt tired and you would lie down together on a mattress (or bedroll, situation dependant) , and as you were both on the edge of sleep he would settle his arms around your waist, and you’d curl back into his chest. It would send your heartbeat wild, but you didn’t desire an answer to his actions. You just wanted to experience it. You ate together (even if a few times you argued when supplies were limited, him wanting you to take the remaining cram tins because of his synth status, you reminding him that synths like him had the same food need as yourself), and you’d even bathe together if you were on the road in the commonwealth. There was no awkwardness between the two of you, sometimes you’d even converse-albeit both of you faced in opposite directions, less out of discomfort and more out of respect for each others autonomy.

In a way, the both of you knew each other's intentions. Neither had denied the other. You tore your gaze away from the inky stillness above to look at him, hoping to steal a private glance, but you found he was already looking at you. He flushed, a welcome look on his face. “Can we discuss something?” He broke the silence, and you gave him your full attention, turning your body to face him to indicate agreement. He fiddled with the material of his trousers as he spoke. “Are we… are we in a relationship?” His words made you feel like an open book. How convenient it was for him to be bringing it up, like he knew you were thinking of him. The cool summer breeze caught some of your shorter hairs, and you swept them behind your ears and out of view. “Do you.. think we are?” You asked with uncertainty, and he searched your expression for a clue to how you were feeling. For a moment he held you, suspended at the end of your question. Embarrassment crept up his neck, and he stumbled over his words slightly as he spoke. “Yes, I mean-I hope so. Otherwise I feel a bit.. wrong?” He offered nervously, and you offered him a small, but amused smile. “ I’d consider us so as well.” You confirmed, and Danse would openly admit he felt relieved. “Good.” He muttered softly, slightly nodding as he spoke. Feeling satisfied, you both returned to stargazing. There was a brief silence as you both stared up in a silent appreciation.

“Can we hold hands?” He asked, without breaking his relaxed look at the stars. “Yeah, we can.” You replied, and you felt his hand reach up for yours, and you firmly interlocked your hand with his. He squeezed your hand for a moment, and you allowed yourself a smile. For tonight at least, you were allowed to be in peace.

[emblazons]

"I think it would be easier if we were a team."

Day Five of @bylerweek2023 - Secret Identities aka - the Modern!Byler + DnD AU no one asked for

The details for their character sheets came from here + here, though only Mike's is confirmed secondary media. The details + story behind these versions of byler under the cut!

The Secret

The Cleric (Will) & The Paladin (Mike) have been playing digital campaigns together for nearly five years now, after Mike‘s then-newfound investment in Critical Role inspired him to hunt for an online DnD game to play for himself.

Inseparable on the pixelated battlefield, their half a decade of campaigning together has slowly turned them into the best of (digital) friends, as they’ve shared their deepest secrets in the anonymous-but-meaningful way you can only online. From Will admitting that his main concern even outside being ridiculed for his sexuality is healing from childhood PTSD to Mike admitting that his picture-perfect family hates his interests and would never accept that he likes guys, both of them have learned to defer to each other in and out of campaigns—they have grown deeply fond of each other through their characters’ adventures…and chats that mean more to both of them than they would dare admit aloud.

Even so, all the Cleric and the Paladin really know about each other on a practical level is that they’re both 20 this year, are both in college now, and that they both come from the Midwest—though they do hope to meet one day if it ever makes sense.

There really is nothing like a friend who gets to see the sides of you you’re not allowed to show in any other space—and neither of them wants to live their entire lives without someone who treats them as well as their longtime D&D companion.

The Identities

Mike Wheeler and Will Byers have been in each other’s orbit since elementary school in Hawkins, though Will’s been pretty distant about keeping tabs on Mike since he dated (and subsequently broke up) with his sister El during freshman year. Mike always enjoyed the time he spent with Will and could tell that Will felt the same, though Mike knew from the second he broke up with El that Will’s love for his family was going to take precedence over their mutual interest in the same (nerdy) things—the same way it did for his sister Nancy when she broke up with Will’s brother, Jonathan, when they went to college.

It’s been years since that happened now, though—and the last time Mike spoke to Will was when they gave each other a friendly hug goodbye the day of high school graduation. Now well into his 3rd year of college, Mike only knows that Will goes to IU just like he does…but on a campus of over 30,000 people and as an English major to Will’s Visual Arts, it’s not like they see each other.

Even so, time away from his exacting family has made Mike more comfortable, and he has slowly realized that it’s time to branch out of his solely hypothetical “rebellious” spaces and into meeting real people who share his interests—to fully embrace is love of DnD in real life to learn the fine art of figurine painting, soak up all the wisdom to be found in classic printed dungeon master guides, and experience the ruckus of a well-strategized in-person campaign. That’s why, on one rainy Friday night in March, he wanders into the Hellfire Club—the on-campus DnD group he’s heard of but never been brave enough to join.

Given his knowledge of Will from all those years ago, seeing the guy he grew up with sitting next to him for Eddie Munson’s grungy basement campaign wasn’t all that much of a surprise, actually. What was a surprise was what happened when he looked down at the table in front of the boy next to him….only to see “Will the Wise” at the top of Will Byers character sheet, plain as day.

tl;dr - you're 20, and your long-time online crush bestie who knows all your secrets turns out to be the brother of the girl you dated for five seconds at 14. Chaos ensues.

[adobedragon]

The Collected Works of sitehound

All my stories, in one place, listed by fandom—which means, mostly Voltron: Legendary Defender—and by romantic ship (if applicable). Ratings vary from G to E.

Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU)

Darcy/Loki

A Morbid Taste for Ice (Complete at 200K words | Rated M | Mystery | Romance | Contemporary | Eventual Sex | Mental Health Issues)

My magnum opus! More than a decade after I started posting it, it still, IMO, holds up well.

Following the events of Loki’s attack on New York, Thor, Loki, Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster find themselves unwilling roommates, living in a crappy trailer home in the New Mexico desert.

Original Work

Elrekki Chaosbringer/Kelly Marquez

Lost in Paradise (Ongoing story | Rated M | Space Opera | Romance | Graphic Depictions of Violence | Eventual Sex | Inspired by MCU's Thor & Loki)

A bookstore owner’s life is turned upside down by a mysterious young man who turns out to be a criminal from an alternate universe.

Voltron: Legendary Defender (VLD)

GEN (No, or minimal romance, although Plance does sneak in…)

How to Impress Your Pidgeon (14K words, Complete | Rated T | Mild Violence | Dragons | Dragonriders of Pern crossover)

Pidge, an apprentice in the MasterSmith Crafthall, meets a very opinionated young dragon.

I’ll Stand by You (3K words | Rated T | Bullying | Friendship | Pre-Canon)

In which Pidge, aka Katie Holt, finds that impersonating a male cadet presents challenges she never thought of.

Three (Would-be) Paladins and a DeLorean (5.7K words | Rated T | Garrison Trio | Pre-Canon | AU | Humor | Reckless Driving | Back to the Future DeLorean)

Pidge, Lance and Hunk sneak out of Galaxy Garrison for some unauthorized R&R in the nearby town of Torre Siena. When the inevitable happens—they get kicked out of a bar—they wander the streets and encounter a very strange car.

Lance/Female Reader

A Little Artistic Nudity (9.2K words | Rated E | Post-Canon | Second Person POV | No use of Y/N)

On a planet zillions of light years away, you meet a cute guy in a café and instantly strike up a rapport.

Shiro/Keith

The Color of Joy is Brown? (7.8K words | Rated T | Mild Violence | Dragons | Dragonriders of Pern crossover | Meet-Cute)

An unwanted orphan bounced from Hold to Hold, now a murderer consigned to hard labor in the mines of Crom, Keith is grimly resigned to a short, miserable life. But when a chance encounter leads to him standing on the sands of Benden Weyr's hatching grounds, a Candidate for Impression, he dares to hope for something better.

Keith/Lance

The Scarecrow (19K words, Complete | Rated T | Mild Violence | Pre-canon | AU | Happy Ending | Queerplatonic Relationships)

In the wake of crushing loss, Keith, Pidge and Hunk, once Galaxy Garrison cadets, now conscripts in the Galra war efforts, plan a desperate escape from Sendak’s estate in the New Mexico desert.

No Good Deed… (2400 words | Rated T | Fantasy AU | Urban Fantasy | Wolf-boy Keith | Fey Lance | Ambiguous Ending)

Lance has an encounter in the woods with a wolf-boy.

Pidge/Lance/Keith

Well, There Goes Our Security Deposit (2.1K words | Rated T | Fluff)

Keith comes home one day to find that his partners in love and life have wrecked the apartment.

How I Met Your Chabbit (1.7K words | Rated T | Drunk Pidge | Fluff | Pet Adoption | Domestic Bliss)

Everyone has an origin story. This is Rogelio the chabbit’s.

Centaur’s Rising (Ongoing story | Rated M | Mild Violence | Grief Mourning | Eventual Sex | Pacific Rim Crossover)

The last place Lance wants to be is in a Conn-Pod, but it may be his best chance at a new beginning, provided he can move on from the past. A retelling, of sorts, of Pacific Rim, featuring Pidge, Lance and Keith.

Keith/Pidge

Stop Thinking (9.2K words | Rated E | Post-canon | First Times)

On a dark and stormy night, after years of waiting, Pidge Holt gets what she wants.

Pidge/Lance (Plance, Pidgance, FlirtyRobot, my OTP)

St. Elmo’s Fire (150K words, Complete | Rated M | Post-Canon | Eventual Sex | Grief/Mourning | Graphic Depictions of Violence | Eventual Happy Ending)

More than a decade before, Lance ghosted Pidge. But a chance encounter leads to a journey together in a small spaceship across the Earth’s solar system, offering the opportunity to repair a friendships and fall in love.

Mind the Hardwood (4.5K words, Rated E | Post-Canon | Cut scene from St. Elmo’s Fire)

In which Pidge and Lance get busy on in the cockpit of Pidge’s small spaceship.

Us, Only Us (5.2K words | Rated M | Post-Canon | Angst | First Fight | Makeup Sex | Romance | Cut scene from St. Elmo's Fire)

Lance stumbles upon Pidge’s attempt to comprehend and model their relationship using math.

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (11K words, Complete | Rated E | Canon | Canon Divergent | First Times)

Pidge successfully seduces Lance.

A Rain of Terror (3.6K words | Rated T | Post-Canon | Angst | Grief/Mourning)

Pidge Holt can repair anything. Except a broken heart. In the gathering fury of a dangerous Altean oort storm, she struggles with her terrible people skills, needing to get a depressed and nearly catatonic Lance out of the storm’s path.

If a Door Slams in Outer Space, Can You Hear It? (2.9K | Canon | Canon Divergent | Story in a Story)

Lance makes like a bard and courts Pidge with a good story.

To Find a Princess, You Gotta Kiss a Green Paladin (7.6 words | Rated T | AU | Actor AU)

In which Katie Holt, girl genius, finds herself cast in a movie playing an Altean princess to Lance’s Paladin of Voltron.

Turn Over a New Leaf (8.8K words, Complete | Rated T | Fix-it | S8E1 rewrite | Romance | Allura and Lance friendship)

All his life, Lance has craved attention. To be seen as more than the farm boy from Cuba. On the eve of the Galactic Coalition’s final offensive against the Galra, Lance finally learns, with a little help from his friends, that growing up means letting go of what you want and accepting what you need.

In Deep Space Where the Wallflowers Grow (2.4K words | Rated T | Post-Canon | Pidge Salsa Dances)

Pidge Holt is so done with being paraded about the universe, expected to mingle and meet and greet the Galactic Coalition's bigwigs. During a brunch on a Galra cruiser, she retreats to a quiet spot in the stateroom by a vast window to do some stargazing, but her solitude is interrupted by a certain social butterfly.

A Pidge in a Dress is Still a Pidge (5.6K words | Rated T | 1950s AU | Science Fiction)

“Just one dance,” Pidge’s mom had stated. One dance with anyone and Pidge can leave the gala at the Altean embassy, go home, take off this beautiful but totally not-Pidge ballgown and go back to being a tomboy girl genius. Alas, the only available dance partners are creeps who are trying to suck-up to Admiral Sam Holt through his daughter. It's gonna be a long evening

Shapeshifter, Shapeshifter, Shape Me a Match (6.1K words | Rated G | Fantasy AU | Shapeshifter Lance)

On a quiet little farm, a mischievous shapeshifter meets his match in a studious girl.

It Is You I Have Loved (A Collection of Plance Fanart and Short Fiction) (Ongoing project)

What it says in the title: drabble plus fanart.

The Tithe (Ongoing story | Rated T | Teen Romance | Pre-Canon | Garrison Trio | Inspired by Tam Lin | Sex Magic)

Katie Holt, masquerading as Galaxy Garrison cadet Pidge Gunderson, is on a mission: to find the truth about her family’s disappearance. But an unlikely romance leads to the startling discovery that otherworldly forces are at work in the Garrison.

I Crave None of Your Blood (Ongoing story | Rated M | Post-Canon | Graphic Depictions of Violence | Character Turned in a Vampire | Grief/Mourning | Eventual Sex | Rough Sex)

Lance, Pidge and Keith, three Paladins of Voltron, each carrying a permanent legacy of their Voltron experience, and now pawns of forces that might save or destroy the universe.

Centaur’s Rising (Ongoing story | Rated M | Mild Violence | Grief Mourning | Eventual Sex | Pacific Rim Crossover)

The last place Lance wants to be is in a Conn-Pod, but it may be his best chance at a new beginning, provided he can move on from the past. A retelling, of sorts, of Pacific Rim, featuring Pidge, Lance and Keith.

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

22 - Answer’s Gonna Come Somehow

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter. these specific panels are from the digital zine juno posted. go buy and support!!!!! there’s so many phenomenal works in there and it’ll warm your little heart.

cw: n/a :)

Year: 1995

“And what’s that?” Bobby pointed to Dustin’s book.

“That’s a character guide,” Dustin smiled.

“And that?”

“Guide to NPCs.”

“What’s an NPC?”

“Non-playable character,” Dustin chuckled.

“And those?”

“Villains. Bobbs, did you know that your papa is a dungeon master? He knows a lot more about this stuff than I do.”

“Whoa, really!”

“Yes, really.”

“And what’s the game called again?”

“DnD.”

“Got it. Papa!”

Bobby ran from her play room into the living room. Eddie was sitting on the couch, completing the finishing details for the campaign he’d be running later that day. Bobby crashed into the couch and rested her chin on the arm rest. 

“Papa?”

“Hi, pumpkin,” Eddie smiled.

“What’s D-n-D?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open as he looked to his little girl. He set down his pencil and notepad as he slid to his knees. He braced his hands on Bobby’s shoulders and pulled her close.

“Bobby Judas, my sweet, sweet girl. I need to tell you, with every fiber of my being, that this is the best day of my life.”

Bobby smiled proudly as her father whisked her into his lap and explained what he was doing with his latest campaign. She reclined back onto him as she was sucked into the enchanting fantasy world.

“And what’s your character, papa?”

“I was initially a bard, but since becoming dungeon master, I’ve been a vampire—Kas—Vecna’s second lieutenant.”

“What’s daddy?”

“Daddy doesn’t have a character.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, pumpkin.”

“Daddy!” She yelled.

Steve’s ears rang at his daughter’s shrill shriek echoed throughout the house. He dried his hands on a rouge dish towel and wandered off to find the hell spawn.

“Yes, Bobby?”

“How come you don’t have a DnD character?” she asked.

“Because I don’t play.”

“But why not?”

“I never really understood it.” He shrugged and tussled her hair.

“Hey,” she whined.

“Oh, sorry, bug, I forgot you had hair clips in. Here, let me fix them.” He knelt to her height and unclipped her barrettes, promptly fixing them. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” She kicked her legs, accidentally knocking Eddie’s knees and shins.

“Ow, Bobbs, be careful, please,” Eddie said.

“Sorry, papa. So, do I have a character?”

“You do, actually,” Eddie smiled proudly. “On your first birthday, we threw you a DnD themed party where everyone came dressed as their characters. Since you didn’t have one yet, I made you one.”

“What am I‽” She gasped.

“You, my dear, are a first level Neutral Good Human Paladin.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are destined to be the best person you could possibly be. You’re adaptable and take adventure seriously—I noticed all that when you were a baby, and I still stand by it.”

“Papa, can I play with you guys tonight?”

“I can ask the rest of The Party, but there shouldn’t be any issue, pumpkin. Dustin!”

“Yeah?” he hollered back.

“Why’re you still in my daughter’s playroom? Come here, please!”

“What?” He asked, running down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

“No, Henderson, why would you introduce my child to DnD?” Steve asked, hands resting on his hips. “Now it’s two against one,” he teased.

“Ignore him,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Would you mind if Bee joined us during our campaign tonight?”

“No, not at all. What would she be doing?”

“Well, I’ll start her off as second in command as dungeon master, then when it’s safe enough, we’ll work her in. Does that sound good, Bobbs?”

“Yeah!”

“Wonderful.”

“Does this mean it’s gonna be more tame?”

“Please,” Eddie scoffed, “as if my hell spawn couldn’t handle my sadistic campaign. Who do you think I raised?”

By four o’clock, the entirety of The Party arrived at the Harrington residence for an early dinner, prepared by Steve. The boys (and Bobby) dug in and by five o’clock, the game had started. Eddie lugged Bobby into his lap and leaned back in his masters thrown.

“Bee, you may begin,” he said.

In the deepest, gruffest voice she could muster up, Bobby leaned forward, only eyes peering over the master guide, and she set the scene for the campaign. Her voice changed with each character, however, sputtering a bit whenever she couldn’t pronounce something. Eddie would match whatever voice or tone she was putting on and sound out the words with her.

When Eddie knew it was safe for Bobby’s character to enter, he sat his daughter down in her own chair and set the stage to introduce her. He flipped his locks back and smiled proudly at his little twin.

“As you clear the luscious green hills after conquering the stampede of trolls, you encounter a lone traveler. Human, state your name and class,” Eddie announced.

“I’m Bonnie Priest, a level one, pala… pala… papa, help, please…” She leaned forward in her chair, kicking her legs aimlessly.

“Paladin,” he whispered.

“Level one paladin!” she cheered. “And I’m ready to defeat Vecna!”

Eddie quietly chuckled as he admired his daughter’s spirits. As she continued with her opening speech, he whispered, “that’s my girl.”

Unfortunately, the night came to an end quicker than usual, as Bobby’s bedtime approached faster than most assumed. Steve entered the basement at eight sharp to collect Bobby and get her ready for bed. With much protest, he managed to get Eddie to wrap up the one-shot and persuade the spawn upstairs.

But as soon as Steve scooped her up in his arms, she was dozing off within seconds. Eddie was left to say goodbye to The Party as Steve was doing Bobby’s nighttime routine. When it came to her bedtime story, she refused to sleep until Eddie read to her.

“Pumpkin, you’ve spent all night with papa—I’ve missed you. We usually have our movie and coloring night tonight. Can’t daddy read you a story to make up for it?”

“But papa does voices,” She pouted.

“I can do voices too. What do you want to read? Just tell me what you want, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll get papa, okay?”

“Okay…”

“What do you want to read?”

“Tell Tale Heart.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again…”

“Alright, I’ll grab it.”

While Steve put in a valiant effort, Bobby still demanded to be read to by Eddie. For days to come, Bobby clung to Eddie more than usual, taking a particular interest in his hobbies.

One day, when Steve was stuck at work, Eddie picked Bobby up from school on his own. He sent her into the den to complete her homework—he was over in the next room plucking his guitar and scribbling down new lyrics. When she was finished, she wandered in and sat at Eddie’s feet.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he smiled.

“Can I play?” she asked.

“You can try,” he chuckled. “It may be a bit too big for you, but go for it.”

He handed the acoustic guitar over to her, sitting behind her to hold it and guide her hands. While her strumming was deafening, Eddie still egged her on, not wanting her to give up on any potential hobbies.

“You know, daddy used to sing to you before you were born,” Eddie said.

“Did he?”

“Oh, yeah, it was horrific.”

“Was it?” Bobby giggled.

“No, it wasn’t bad,” Eddie smiled. “God, he has loved you since day one, pumpkin.”

“You didn’t?” she pouted.

“No, of course I did, but… I dunno… I initially never wanted kids, but daddy? He wanted like five of them. He was so excited when he found out I was pregnant. But me? Lord, I was terrified. I love you more than life itself, Bobbs, but I was so, unbelievably scared at first.”

“That’s okay, papa. Babies are scary.”

“Yes, they are,” he laughed.

“Hello?” Steve called, walking through the front door.

“Hi, honey,” Eddie beamed.

“Hi, daddy!” Bobby cheered, storming the door and attacking him with hugs.

“Oh, bug, it’s only been like eight hours,” he chuckled.

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, pumpkin. What’re you doing? Playing guitar with papa?”

“Mhmm!”

“Learn anything?”

“Not yet.”

“But she’s getting there,” Eddie added. “Just a little more practice and she’ll be a pro.”

The family went about their evening as normal, ending with the boys putting Bobby to bed with a story of her choosing. Once she was sound asleep, they headed back downstairs to tidy up before hitting the hay themselves. As Steve washed the dishes, and Eddie scrubbed the counters, Steve let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think… have you noticed… uh…”

“Uh? What’s wrong, Stevie?”

“Do you think Bee’s been a bit, I dunno… off lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s just been bouncing from hobby to hobby. A lot more than most kids her age do.”

“So? She’s just curious.”

“No, Eds, what I’m…” Steve trailed off.

“What?”

“I think she has either ADHD or ADD…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it, Eddie. Her grades have been slipping a bit, she had that weird stint with a temper last year, and now she’s trying to take on a million new hobbies at once. Her brain is going a million miles a minute.“

“So? I was that same way when I was a kid.”

“And you graduated high school three years late.”

“Yeah, alright, you make a good point,” he sighed. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I think we should take her to see someone… or at least start with talking to her teachers to see how she’s focusing and participating in class.”

“If you think it’s necessary, then I say let’s go for it. After all, this is your line of work.”

“Sorta.”

“Closer than mine,” Eddie shrugged. “But, Stevie, even if she has ADHD, would you really want her to be on medication so young? I mean, she’s barely seven.”

“I mean, kids can start taking small doses of medication as young as six. There’s a lot of research in this. I think it would be more beneficial to treat her and hopefully benefit her in the long run than to keep her off it.”

“If you say so…”

Several weeks passed and after a lot of conversation with several professionals, Bobby was eventually diagnosed with combined type ADHD. To accommodate both the boy’s wishes, she was initially placed in both behavioral therapy to try and gain control over some of her outbursts, then if that failed, they’d move on to medication.

Bobby wasn’t taking the treatment as well as they boys had hoped. She always threw a fit whenever they brought her in for her weekly appointments. She said that she felt like an outcast—a freak—and that was the last thing Eddie wanted for her.

Steve tried explaining that it was totally normal for some kids needing extra help in school, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. Instead, she barely spoke or even participated in her treatment sessions, so the boys were left with no choice but to start medication.

“I hate this,” Eddie sighed. “I really, really hoped she wouldn’t get any of my bad traits.”

“Bad traits? Ed, honey, it’s not a ‘bad trait’… she just learns a bit differently than others, and that’s okay. It’s normal.”

“She said she feels like a freak, Steve,” he teared up. “I grew up as the freak. Hell, even you, my own husband, used to call me a freak. I never wanted that for her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a freak, Ed. Hell, I was labeled a ‘King’, and now I’m nothing but a lowly social worker. But you? Eds, you have albums out, you open for huge bands, and you’ve been on tour. There’s worse things to be than a ‘freak’.”

“I guess so,” he sighed. “I just know the feeling and it sucks. Kids are so mean. I just hope no one’s being mean to her at her new school.”

“If they are, then we pull her completely and just home-school her. At least that way you’ll be able to tour again,” Steve teased.

“Pfft, please. I’d rather her stay in school.”

“Why?”

“So she gets socialized and makes friends. At her age, it’s more important than traveling.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Steve took a sip of his coffee before glancing at the time and choking on his gulp. “Shit, we haven’t gotten her up yet. She’s gonna be late.”

“Fuck, I’ll get her. You start breakfast. Go, team, go!”

[ria-777]

There is not enough letters in the alphabet for me to tell you how much I love you

C - Cute

Keith has no idea why the realization even surprised him in the first place. But now, as he looked at her eating some sort of space watermelon on a beach situated on Étoilistia, wearing a two-piece swimsuit, he wondered how this wasn't his initial thought concerning the girl.

Pidge was adorable, pretty, gorgeous, mesmerizing. Whatever you want to call her kind of beauty.

Hell! He was sure even Lance would be able to agree with him. Maybe she wasn't as hot as the girls the blue paladin crushed on, she still had a lot going on.

Maybe it was her big eyes, or the way she carried herself, or how she stared at things that interested and fascinated her.

Maybe it was the way she would pout when something wasn't going how she wanted or the smile on her face when she had the last word.

As usual.

Maybe it was her cheeks, freckles adoring them that he now realized seemed to have gotten even more visible ever since they landed on this sunny planet.

Often, Keith thought he was the only one to notice the green paladin's adorableness. They were all too busy being blown away by her intelligence, like he was when they first met. He was proven wrong today, to his displeasure.

Upon seeing the sunlit beach when they arrived, Lance and Hunk had begged Allura to let them spend at least a complete quintant enjoying it. In need of a relaxed day off duty as much as the teenagers, the princess easily accepted.

Originally, Keith was enthusiastic about it too, but after witnessing more than one étoilistians fail at trying to flirt with Pidge, he just wanted to leave this place, as beautiful as it is.

Couldn't they realize she was very obviously uncomfortable with their wandering eyes!? Like seriously, who could think that someone as smart as Pdige would fall for cheesy and honestly bad pick lines. He heard a few that were so horrible that even Lance wouldn't be able to come up with. Some people truly had no manners.

The red paladin had managed to scare a few of them by standing protectively by Pidge's side, glaring at anyone who observed her the wrong way.

Maybe he was acting a bit jealous, or perhaps possessive, but did they really need to see more of her skin exposed to find her somewhat attractive? Creeps.

Thankfully, she hadn't told him off. Yet.

Keith hoped deep down that she'd let him protect her. She was already aware he thought of her as a strong person, which didn't mean he never felt the urge to keep her safe from perverts in a mostly unknown environment.

By the end of the day, everyone in team Voltron had complimented Pidge, all except one.

*******

It wasn't bugging her at all. That's what the girl kept repeating in her brain, over and over again.

Why should she care?

Upon stepping out of Allura's bathroom, the princess exclaimed how pretty she looked. Once they met up outside the castle with the rest of the team, the older girl hadn't wasted a tick before showing off her excellent choice in picking an outfit for the genius of the group. Dramatically explaining how she knew this was going to be the one from the start, ignoring the many failed tries before Pidge found one she liked and felt comfortable wearing.

They all said she looked beautiful. Except Keith, who only stared at her silently. Was he judging how she was dressed? The green paladin was aware that at some point in their life, people began wanting approval from others, regarding how they were perceived by their entourage. She just never thought she would be one of them. Was he disagreeing with the others in his brain? Once more, Pidge cursed his poked face.

So no, she wasn't disappointed in the slightest. It didn't bother her at all- Yeah, this strategy wasn't working. Who could have guessed telling herself she didn't mind would fail? If her twelve-year-old self saw how much she cared about some boy's opinion on how she looked, Pidge is sure she would get kicked in the knees. Hell, even the version of her when this whole adventure started would be disappointed. This wasn't what she was in space for.

"But it's Keith, not just any boy." That's what her brain kept repeating . Maybe he was planning on saying something later, when they were alone? She could only wish he would.

No matter how much Pidge tried ignoring how fast her heart was beating during the entire day.

Hope rose in her when he spent vargas staying by her side, driving away anyone who disturbed her. She prayed he did that in an "I like you and I don't want other people to eye you up and down way" and not "I care for you like an older brother would way."

Yep, she officially sounded insane.

Katie "Pidge" Holt was losing it because she had a stupid crush on her teammate and not because of how emotionally and physically battling against the Galra while simultaneously searching for her father and Matt was.

Currently, they were both seated a few metres away from their friends, appreciating the scenery by watching the impressive sunset.

She could feel his eyes on her. Should she ask him what was troubling him? What if it pissed him off? Would that be too intrusive? But what if it concerned her? What if he said the swimsuit didn't fit her? What if-

"Pidge." She turned her head to the side to be able to stare at him in the eyes, humming in response.

God, why did he have to observe her so intensely, her heart was about to tear itself out of her skin.

"You look cute today, but so do you most of the time."

Oh, she'd never recover from that one anytime soon, that was for sure.

If only she knew he wouldn't either, after seeing how her face flushed a pretty shade of red. Saying those few words had taken all the courage Keith had in store for the day.

"Thanks, uhm... so do you?"

If his face wasn't rosy before, it was now for certain, possibly even more than hers. But she was smiling and so was her.

Maybe he might actually have a chance after all.

*******

Note: For the name of the planet, I wanted something to go with space so I went with the word étoile which means star in french!

(Posted on ao3 and Wattpad)