#anyways this is my chaotic rogue I hope you like him :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arcaneglitch · 5 months

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5 and 19 for your all your main OCs?

oh gosh I hope you know what you just asked for lmao

5. What's their moral compass like?

19. How do they view the world? Are they an optimist? A pessimist? A realist?

I think I'll use alignment answers here to simplify a bit (also starting to think that I should include a quick breakdown of my various OCs in my pinned post)

Harley

Neutral good: What others deem to be right doesn't necessarily factor into his decision-making as much as what his conscience says is right. He wants to help people and is willing to make personal sacrifices to do so but is willing to bend or even break the rules Pessimist-leaning realist: He tries to balance his expectations by what's most likely to happen regardless of positive or negative outcomes. The Red War triggered a more negative shift in viewpoint that only became exacerbated by Cayde's death (he blames himself for not preventing it, due to having seen a simulation in the Infinite Forest)

Fyr

Chaotic good: He does things for (usually) the right reasons but how he goes about doing them can be unorthodox and he can come off to others as unpredictable/uncontrollable Optimist: Fyr's generally a very positive person and tries to look on the bright side. Sometimes when things mount up, it can grow to be too much for him, but he's generally able to hang onto his optimistic outlook when others give up

Jade

Lawful good: She has a very strong sense of justice and what's right and is generally unwilling to compromise her values (though she will make occasional exceptions if she feels there's unfairness in the way things work out) Realist-leaning optimist: She knows her optimism can sometimes make her seem naive or idealistic, but she also sees it as worth hanging onto. She's aware that positive outcomes aren't necessarily the most likely, but she believes it's important to try reaching for them anyway

Bazzle

Lawful good: He's very by-the-book in his values, and it takes a lot to convince him to make exceptions. However he's entirely capable of recognizing when the system is rigged (such as Harley's persecution by the Praxic Order) and is willing to step in and help (within the boundaries) Realist: He's very practical-minded and doesn't let himself get carried away by imagining positive or negative outcomes. He believes in doing the best he can in any given situation without getting caught up in what might be

Kaedro-22

Chaotic neutral: I would almost describe him as "recklessly responsible." When he's around older Guardians (his age or close to it), he tends to embrace more of his chaotic side, but when he's around newer Guardians, he tames those instincts a bit more in an effort to set a "good example" Realist: Kaedro would say he's been around too long to be anything else. He's seen both the bright sides and dark sides of humanity. While others might see his outlook as a tragedy born from his centuries of experience, he would view it as a triumph to not have fallen into pessimistic and cynical ways of thinking

Rogue-12

Chaotic good: He doesn't have much respect for the Vanguard as an authority, but he does respect them as people. He's fully willing to act outside Vanguard jurisdiction if he sees it as the right thing to do (which is why he wasn't one of the people sent to the Tangled Shore to stop Harley lol) Optimist-leaning realist: To some extent, Rogue believes in the power of positive thinking, but he believes even more in the power of positive action. His optimistic tendencies are a tool that shapes the way he acts and how he handles sistuations

Rae

Chaotic neutral: She's been around the longest, so she's pretty ambivalent toward institutions like the Consensus and the Vanguard. She cares about her clan and her fireteam and doesn't really care to listen to anyone outside of those two groups. She will drop a cause at the drop of a hat if her values stop aligning with it Pessimist: Rae tends to look on the darker side of things, which she would probably describe as "necessary." It's not that she believes that things can't get better, just that she doesn't think it's likely

Liv

Chaotic good: She's headstrong and willing to disobey orders that go against her morals, such as Zavala's order to not push into the Titan Arcology when none of them had the Light. Sometimes this tendency gets her recognized as a hero and sometimes it gets her in trouble Realist-leaning optimist: Liv is firmly committed to not letting herself sink into cynical thought patterns. Granted, it became much harder for her in the wake of events such as the Red War, Cayde's death, and Harley's apparent death. Still, she thinks it's important to hang onto the hope that she can change things for the better

Kai

True neutral: She's one of the older Sunbreakers and remembers what it was like when she wasn't welcomed by Zavala or the City. She's often able to separate her feelings from her actions and can come off as impersonal as a result, but she cares about her fireteam and clan Pessimist-leaning realist: Similar to Rogue, Kai tends to favor actions. She doesn't really put much stock in picturing a good result when she can get involved and make that good result reality. After her teammates fell in the Great Disaster, she's taken on more pessimistic traits but doesn't let negative thought patterns take over

Tristan

Lawful good: The difference between right and wrong is firmly ingrained in him and he generally respects the Vanguard and the Guardian Code. Like Bazzle, he favors a by-the-book approach but can be pressured into other methods depending on the situation Pessimist-leaning realist: Tristan is fully aware that things may not work out in the best way possible, but he still tries his hardest to promote that outcome. He's conscious of his negative thought patterns and does his best to combat them or put them out of his mind

Kyler

Chaotic neutral: He has no problem rejecting the rules or systems that he lives under if they don't suit him. When his adoptive father was killed in a Taken incursion, he began working for the Underlord to get back at the Guardian he saw as responsible. He can develop loyalty to others, but he looks out for himself first and foremost Optimist-leaning realist: Kyler started out as a more cynical realist due to getting dealt a sucky hand by the universe, but has since made an effort to change his viewpoint. Just because he's had some darker times in his life doesn't mean there hasn't also been good and now he consciously tries to seek out that good

Tysm for the ask!

oc asks

#answered asks #ask game #kare--kare #destiny 2 #my ocs

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astro-naut9 · 3 months

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I know nothing about your OCs, so consider this a request for any infodumps about any characters you feel like talking about.

Educate me about your lil' guys.

OH BROOOTHHERRRR OK SO !!! PREPARE TO READ VERY CONFUSING STUFF !! and trigger warnings for mentions of self-sabotaging and anything related to it.

this is Francis Wry !!

They're 16 and they use he/she/they pronouns! Their identity is loosely based off of me but so are my other characters tbh. ANYWAY!! He's a very chaotic person but also very caring towards his friends (alex)! They love destruction and they also love peace, which makes his morals questionable. Francis will do anything for his wants, as long as it doesn't affect his friends at all. He will go through lengths for it (will include self sacrifices and world destruction). BUT!! overall, he's not too complicated to understand. jsut that friends > others

ANYWAY !! story time

Francis, was legally named Vanessa, was born in a poor family of three (including him). She spent her time ltierally working for her family. anyway, no, she did not live with peace when she was with her family. BUT, she did find a friend, Neil, when they were both 7 years old and then they grew up together cuz their family is friends with each other and they have the same hobbies. (unfortunately i dont have pics of them tgt) however, this did not cure francis' depression (she didnt know she had it), so yeah !! anyway, long story short she unalived herself by jumping off a building BUT GUESS WHAT !!!! SHE DIED, BUT SHE GOT REVIVED !! TO ANOTHER WOOOORRLLLDDD !!!

with that process, lets go to the revival thingy first.

in order for people to be revived, alien scientists grab their wandering souls in their planet and bring them outside the universe (to the multiverse) where a rogue sun and planet travel. The souls are then magically revived by a god who the alien scientists had held hostage (the god does not mind the reviving too much, however, he wishes for them to treat him kinder). ANYWAY, the aliens then take dna from the deceased bodies and put it in a cloning machine.

no, the scientists does not care who they revive. it is for the sake of experiment.

so, that implies Francis was taken as an experiment :3

niszen is the scientist in charge of him. they have some sort of sibling bond as the scientists are tasked to act very kind to the subjects as a manipulation tactic, so their relationship is either genuine or just a hoax. Anyway, you could tell what francis went thru with the experiments as it had always been painful and exhausting. then one day he couldnt take it anymore and js went batshit crazy. with the mix of other dnas mixed in his blood, his strength and abilities were a bit crazy. with that, francis escaped from his cell and went to the fuel room. he grabbed jugs of gasoline and poured it eevrywhere he went. the aliens had a room filled with stuffs that are alien to them which was where he found the match box. this then led to him burning down the laboratory, causing it to explode yada yada. (there are details i didnt include because it will take this very long)

then he proceeded to live in the wild. since the planet, Astrylis, was made for the preference of different species, the woods was js like the woods from the Earth. anyway, he lived there for like 2 weeks until a grandma saw him and then helped him with ways and stuff. then he was exposed to the outside world after 4 months of in denial.

then he met uhh Alex!!

alex was 14 when they were 13 !! then they uh became best friends for 4 years (present time, which is 6036). anyway, i actually have no more to add unless im asked about specific things auuughgh but

anyways here are some of the uhh arts w them :33

i have more ocs but,, idrk,, i cant seem to describe some stuff without the questions beign specific for some reason??? but hey i hope i did give u a little about my guy here !!

#ask #original characters #francis wry #i love my ocs sm but i wish i could explain everythign about them #i dont have that abilitie

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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Could I pls have a #7 off the fluff prompt list for the Batman rogues? I just love the chaotically dumb/troublesome S/o’s that drive their rogues crazy but are still loved by them at the end of the day and put up with their shit. I just love when the rogues are all “you’re an idiot but you’re my idiot.” Pls and thank you, your work is wonderful ☺️

Riddler + whoever else you feel like adding pls #7 “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

You're An Idiot/But You Love Me

Rogue Scenarios/Ficlets kjhkjhasd ok this was cutie and i liked writing it. i know it's not usually my thing to be soft and gentle so i hope this was ok! thank you for submitting it ;-; 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: nothin' it's just fluff, but no lil friends come near this shit anyway

riddler

"i thought that was the answer!" he scrutinised you with his narrowed eyes, trying to tell whether you were joking or not, making a fool out of him, mocking him. "are you being sarcastic?" you walk over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. " a little bit, but that was the easiest riddle ever, do you think i'm an idiot?" he grabbed your waist as you turned away from him, spinning you back around and kissing your forehead. "you are an idiot." snuggling your head into his neck you whispered "but you love me anyway."

two face

"god! you're an IDIOT!" you cowered slightly at the yell, trying to maintain eye contact so you could break through to him, past two face. "i'm so sorry, i didn't realise, i made a mistake, but we got out alive!" he spat his words at you, "barely! god you're so stupid." reaching out tentatively you placed your hand on his cheek, desperate to reach harvey. looking into his eyes you risked a kiss. "but you love me?" his hands wrapped around your waist in a soft embrace, kissing the top of your head, voice softer now. "of course."

scarecrow

so maybe you should have known better, given that you were dating jonathan crane. but you were too focused on watching the horror movie he had put on. you just put your hand to the side and picked up the first cup your fingers landed on, taking a sip and putting it back down. it took him a few minutes before he realised why you had suddenly become far more terrified of the cheesy slasher. when he eventually got you calmed down, you noticed how tight his grip on your hand was. he let go when he realised you were smiling at it. "you're an idiot." you grabbed at his hand again. "but you love me!" he neither confirmed nor denied it.

penguin

"haha! see sweetheart, that's why you can't play a player." he began raking in the chips after settling his cards down on the table. "four of a kind, it feels good to win." you smiled, pleased to see him so happy. "don't worry, kid, one of these days you'll win. i'll teach you how to beat everyone, except me. so what hand did you have?" you lay them down, shrugging. "none of them matched, oz. total bust." he stared at them, then back at you, then back at the cards. "you're an idiot." you tilted your head to the side, staring blankly at him. "that's a straight flush, doll, you beat me! you didn't notice?" you smiled, "no i did, i'm just good at bluffing." his mouth was screwed shut tight, and as you leaned over to collect your winnings, you pressed a kiss to them. "but you love me."

zsasz

"let's go then!" you dove around the corner, guns blazing, firing what might have seemed at random to the untrained eye, but victor watched you, trying to cover you, a pointless attempt because every wild shot you took was right on target. but you hadn't accounted for the one officer who had been hiding, who burst out as you realised you were out of ammo. quickly to the rescue, zsasz took aim, rushing up behind you and turning you around. "you're an idiot! that was reckless, and dangerous, and...kinda hot." he kissed you, arms gripping at your waist, "but you're still an idiot." you took his head in your hands and rubbed your nose to his "but you love me." he smiled into you, stepping back to reload his weapons. "of course i do, you're my idiot."

harley

it might have been your fault that she'd been beaten up by batman, but it still hadn't warranted the absolute tirade she'd gone on once you were back at her hideout. "you're a complete idiot, y'know!?" and as your eyes fell to the floor she realised that it was the moment to break the cycle. it horrified her how much she sounded like him, scolding you and berating you. staring back up at her, your eyes met, and you spoke meekly. "but you love me...?" harley fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around you and holding you to her chest. "more than words, dumplin', pinky swears."

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mrcrowblargs · 1 year

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Finished Astarion's personal quest and whoof. I need to lie down. It was so good. I wanna give him such a big hug. But I suppose asking for a kiss works.

Spoilers under the cut, but I will leave a protip: if you bring the Daylight spell into the big boss fight, DO NOT cast it as a sphere! Cast it on a weapon and stow the weapon after the fight. It'll save you some trouble.

So I definitely overprepared going into the Szarr Palace. I already had respecced Gale as a Knowledge Cleric and Shadowheart as a War Cleric so I brought them both along because of course you're going to encounter undead vampires in a fucking vampire den. I think entering the palace was supposed to feel a little too easy since Cazador wanted Astarion there anyway. But they wrecked everything.

Astarion, you are a fucking rogue... why are you running in for an unarmed attack... AND GETTING CAPTURED I was not happy about losing him for the first round but luckily getting Aylin out of drama meant I knew exactly what to do for Astarion.

The fight didn't go too badly, I cast Daylight smack in the middle of the area because I didn't want to fry the suspended spawn. But then the cutscenes after felt... abrupt and lacking. And I didn't get Cazador's staff needed to free the prisoners. Looked it up online and turned out having Daylight present makes the spawn flee as soon as they are freed oops. So I had to redo the fight.

And honestly, I was glad I redid it. It was a little more chaotic but the double cleric team worked GREAT. Turns out the spawn aren't affected by daylight while suspended so I was able to cover more of the field instead of giving Cazador corners to hide in. 2x Spirit Guardians to clear out the GODDAMN BATS. 2x Spiritual Weapon to camp on the ritual spots and deny Cazador his boons. Honestly having two clerics is just great. Casting the Heroic Feast or whatever beforehand was also a great move.

And best of all? Astarion got the finishing blow on Cazador with an absolutely epic sneak attack.

Admittedly struggled with dialogue options because the previous issue meant reloading and fucking around a lot and uh, accidentally letting Astarion ascend oops, but after doing things the right way I hit the sweet spot for dialogue and got him to stand down the ritual of his own accord instead of like "stop him" or "I won't help."

All of Astarion's acting is phenomenal??? like??? his VOICE his EXPRESSIONS just god there's so much here. really felt this howl.

Chose to free the spawn. 7000 predators suddenly released into the Underdark is sure to cause some ecological issues BUT it was so good seeing Astarion stand up for them and give them the chance to be saved and free. The chance he should have had long ago. Break that cycle, babey.

Oh man that whole post I made connecting the mirror scene to the entire person Astarion was being just gone, forgotten was so on the nose. AND FEY YOU WERE RIGHT He's gonna make himself his own person. Free. Even if that means living in the shadows... Aldrich will always be with him. And their githyanki child because I still have that egg hanging in my inventory and I don't think it's safe with any of the quest parties involved. Just gotta uh. beat the game and hope I can have that epilogue. I'm still nervous about having undergone partial ceremorphosis but uhhhhh maybe Astarion won't mind tentacles?

Astarion finally answers, "You're not a victim, not a target, so then... what are you?" I have another act 2 comic script sitting aside that touched on this and I kinda really wanna do it now haha. It's satisfying when things you speculate about a character fall into place.

but also, maybe a sillier doodle comic, of an earlier moment (after the spawn ambush you at night) when you can tell Astarion "if you open up and care about others, they will care about you" and he's like "no one cares, not like you do" and then like 10ft away is Karlach who is like I LOVE MY BITEY FRIEND I'LL TEAR DOWN THE WHOLE PALACE IF THEY TAKE HIM!!! And her reaction after just enforcing that. All the party gossip of being proud of Astarion was so nice.

Next I gotta rescue Lae'zel from Orin and hope that she's still alive because uuhhh it's been a few long rests oops. She's got all the anti-shapeshifter gear from Emperor's old pad it's cool it's fine she's probably already turned orin to mincemeat.

I intended to play all day today but i think I'm gonna leave off here. Digest. Bask in that I rehabilitated and socialised the feral kitten I plucked out of the gutter so long ago.

#crowbar plays bg3 #aldiirn bg3

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geesuv · 2 years

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My Favourite Kobold Buddies

In the past five years of my fort, the great halls of Towerwhispers, we have had the usual mix of menaces to deal with. Snatchers, sneaky plotters and the odd siege. But one thing has stood out amongst the rest. Three absolutely useless kobold thieves! It’s the same three little guys every time and they come back every few months only to get immediately spotted and run off. Yet they persevere! I’ve become very attached to them. I’m properly worried they’ll get close enough to get caught in a trap or taken out by a guard. If I could, I’d invite them to join my fort and live honest lives. But then who am I to take them away from their thieving calling? Let me introduce you!

First up, we’ve got Bogobrimbis! She’s the silver-tongued rogue of the bunch. She favours eloquence and will flatter anyone she speaks to. Clearly this has worked out for her, because she’s the only one to have a spouse. Don’t let her gregarious nature fool you, though. She’s tough as nails (For a kobold) and appreciates sharp skills! Just don’t ask her to give anything up or actually make something herself. She prefers to let others do the hard work.

Next we have Stlakachayder! He’s the serious one of the team. Doesn’t like to have fun and appreciates skillful thieving. But despite this dour nature, he actually had a pretty good handle on social situations! Alas, Stlalaka here also has a bit of a dark streak. He’s moody and quick to think the worst of a situation. He’s also pretty paranoid and will suspect the motives of anyone he meets. Which, as a thief, might be pretty sensible...

Finally, my favourite, we have Chufuluthanker. It was this little guy that got me paying attention to the thieves. Chufulu is the wild card of the team! A real chaotic element! He hates the notion of ever holding back! If he wants to do something, he’ll do it now and he’ll do it directly! No sneaky plans for this kobold! What a disaster. I love him. He’s also shy, which I can relate to, but I wonder if anyone notices when he’s bouncing off the walls doing whatever enters his little mind? Something else to note, Chufulu here is the only one with the Organiser skill! Is he the leader?! Is that why this team’s only tactic to walk directly towards our gatehouse from the same direction every month and run off when the fisherdwarves spot them? Who the heck put him in charge? And why do they listen to his bad ideas?! Anyway, I hope nothing ever goes wrong for them and they get to pick over the ruined halls of this fort once everything inevitably goes wrong for us.

#Dwarf Fortress #kobold #fun #little guys #chaos gremlin #character #fantasy

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april-doodles · 2 years

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A silly little doodle of my other dnd character named Flint

#my art #doodle #dungeons and dragons character #Flint dnd #okay listen Flint is totally not a rip off of Flint Cragley from Super Paper Mario no siree /s #anyways this is my chaotic rogue I hope you like him :)

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blueberryrock · 2 years

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Bananas

A/N okay so i couldn't find a good gif, but just pretend those cookies are a cake okay? But anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROGUE!! Sorry, this is 3 days late, I got busy! I hope you enjoy this chaotic mess and sorry for dangling it in front of you in the discord 😅

Rule, Requests, and More!

Two eggs, and four bananas.

Pippin sighs as he shuffles towards the large pantry, glancing at the mess he never got around to fixing. Stepping over the fallen bags of potatoes, he opens the curtains of a dinky window in the very back. With the new light pouring in, Pippin squints around the crowded pantry.

What was he here for? Eggs! That's right!

Quickly, Pippin digs around the packed pantry, moving over the palates of bread rolls and large wheels of cheese in search of the two eggs. A frustrated groan escapes Pippin's lips after a few minutes of searching with no success, but that's okay! H-he can just use a substitute!

With a small frown, Pippin turns to grab a large container of plain yogurt and quickly turns on his heel towards the pantry's door, grumbling about the lack of eggs. Shutting the pantry door, Pippin sets the container of yogurt and turns to his mixing bowl on the counter, humming as he tries to remember how much he would need to substitute for the missing two eggs.

As he carefully scoops out what he thinks to be the right measurements and drops them into the bowl with a satisfying plop! A small smile grows on his face as he begins to quickly mix the plain yogurt into the other wet ingredients. It had been a long time since he had last baked something, but today is a special occasion that he just had to show off his somewhat rusty skills.

After the yogurt had fully mixed in with the other wet ingredients, Pippin decides to check his small wood-burning oven and finds it to be the ideal temperature. A large grin spreads on his face as he excitedly turns back to his mixing bowl.

All that is needed now was the dry ingredients, like flour and baking soda! Immediately Pippin digs through the kitchen cabinets and drawers, searching for hopefully open bags of what he needs. Then he spots it, the large heavy bag he needs had shoved to the back and hasn't been used in a while.

Furrowing his brows, Pippin falls to his hands and knees in attempts to grab it. His fingers brush against the bag before he shuffles deeper into the cabinet to finally grab it tightly.

"Pippin!" A voice calls from somewhere in the house, causing Pippin to immediately jump and bang his head against the top of the cabinet, letting a quiet curse slip from his lips as he scurries out.

"S-stay over there!" Pippin cries out as he rubs the sore spot on his head.

"Pippin?" Y/N's voice seemed full of curiosity and a little worry.

"Don't come into the kitchen!" Pippin hurries to scoop out an amount of flour, barely measuring it before he dumps it into the mixing bowl.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes!" He says quickly, fumbling to grab the container of baking powder and dump it in the bowl. "Yes love, just umm, just don't come over here please!"

He can hear Y/N walking off, no doubt to change out of her work clothes from the tavern. Pippin huffs as he begins to quickly mix the dry ingredients into the wet, his arms getting increasingly sore as he goes.

"Pippin?" Y/N's voice became scarily closer.

"Give me a minute!" He says, sliding towards the baking pan he put out to dump the poorly mixed batter in. As soon as Pippin had shoved cake pans into the oven Y/N had rounded the corner, a small smile tugging at her lips at the sight of a flustered Pippin.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Her eyes shifting from the red-faced hobbit before her to the mess of a kitchen behind him. "Or making for that matter?"

"Oh umm," he begins, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I decided to take up baking, to get help get my mind off of...stuff...."

"So what are you making right now?"

"Banana bread!" That immediately makes Y/N scrunch their nose. "You don't like bananas?" Pippin tries to not frown, his heart instantly sinking down to his stomach. "C-cause that is a major ingredient of what I made."

"I like bananas alright, but I'm a bit allergic to them," Y/N sighs, her feet carrying her to one of the only clean counters. Carefully, she lifts herself up to comfortably sit on top of it.

"More for me then," Pippin laughs nervously. How could he have forgotten such an important thing about Y/N! Bananas are the most important part of the cake he made...he wants to smack himself for forgetting such a thing, but all he can do now is glare at the cake currently baking in the oven.

"You better get started on cleaning this mess Pippin," Y/N sighs, she drags her finger across the top of the counter beside to grimace at the sight of flour on her fingers. "Better make it fast before your cousins come over for my birthday."

Pippin sighs, wiping his forehead before he continues to scrub at a particularly stubborn stain from melted butter. The smell of sweet cake had been filling the room as soon as he had put it in the oven, he had been praying that Y/N didn't know the difference between a cake smell and a bread smell.

So far she hasn't said anything.

Tossing the wet rag he had been furiously scrubbing with onto the counter, Pippin turns towards the wood-burning oven. Curiously Pippin grabs the handle of it and slowly opens it, the hinges creaking loudly in protest as it's pulled open.

Both cakes have a nice golden outside, the sight of which brings a smile to Pippin's face. Turning on his heel, he turns to search for a pair of large oven mitts, grumbling as he rummages through the different drawers.

Finally, after a few minutes, Pippin finds the large pair of polka-dotted oven mitts and pulls them on. He can't help but beam with excitement as he turns back to bend down and pull out the cakes.

A low whistle breaks the quietness of the kitchen as Pippin quickly turns tomato red. "Pulling out banana bread eh?" He can practically hear the smile in Y/N's voice.

"I-umm-happy birthday?" Pippin states awkwardly as he grabs the hot pan and turns to face Y/N's amused gaze. With a defeated sigh, Pippin sets the hot pan onto the counter beside him and goes back for the other golden cake.

Y/N chuckles softly before she moves around Pippin to examine the golden cake. "I assume this is supposed to have bananas in it?" Y/N leans over to breathe in the cake's deliciously sweet smell as Pippin places its twin right next to it.

"Yes," Pippin sighs as he yanks off the oversized mitts on his hands and tosses them onto the counter beside him. "Though now that I think about it, I'm not sure I even added any!"

"Well lucky me then," Y/N smirks. "Better get these out before the bottoms burn," she notes before moving to pull out large serving plates from a cabinet above them.

Pippin silently nods as he quickly steps away to find their silverware drawer, pulling out an intricate silver butter knife, he turns on his heels and quickly heads back towards the steaming cakes. As Pippin begins to scrape the sides of the cake pans, Y/N later takes the first one to flip over onto the plate.

"They do smell good Pip!" She grins as she lines up the cake pan with the plate. "I can't wait to-" the cake, or the cooked part of it at least, fell onto the serving plate with uncooked goo rolling off of it. "YOU DIDN'T CHECK IT?"

"I guess I forgot to," Pippin frowns deeply before Y/N shakes the cake pan in her hands and the cooked bottom half of it falls onto the top with a wet splat! With the collisions of the two cooked half and the raw middle, the uncooked cake batter had splattered in every direction, coating everything in its path. A yelp escaped Y/N's mouth at the sudden spray of batter before a shocked silence fell over the large kitchen.

Pippin so desperately tried to fill it, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say as his eyes flicker from the cake halves on the plate and the batter-covered Y/N. "I am so sor-" Pippin begins before giggles spill out of Y/N.

"I can not believe that just happened!" Y/N cries with laughter, their face slowly turning red as she stares down at the top of her now ruined dress. Her loud laughter seems to be contagious as Pippin begins to laugh with her. "And how did you not get hit by any?" Her voice is now high-pitched as more giggles escape her.

"I'm just lucky."

"C'mere," Y/N says, her laughter had died down enough for her to regain control of her breathing but Y/N's face was still tinted with red.

Pippin doesn't even acknowledge the mischievous grin on her face as he takes a step closer. "Should I grab you a towel?" He asks. "Maybe you should run a ba-" Y/N cuts him off by grabbing a handful of the now soggy cake and smearing it against his shirt.

A shiver runs through him at the feel of the thick batter now rolling down his shirt. "Oh...it's on," he growls before grabbing two handfuls of the mushy cake, but Y/N had already begun to run as soon as the cake had hit his shirt. "Get back here!" He yells, immediately running out of the kitchen to chase down Y/N.

Y/N's giggles had echoed through the entire house, making it a little confusing to follow, but the sight of her dress rippling in the corner of Pippin's eye made him turn quickly to catch her.

"Nooo!" Y/N yelps when she spots him, but instead of running more, she just backs up against the cool wall of their house.

"But it's only fair Y/N!" Pippin grins as he stalks towards her, his hands overflowing with the mushy cake.

"I'm already covered in cake Pip!" Y/N cries, trying not to show her creeping smile.

"But I wasn't the one who put it on you!"

"I-hmm," Y/N frowns before hearing a wet splat by her ear. Immediately her head turns to look at the cake batter now dripping down the wall. "PIPPIN YOU GOT IT ON THE WALL!"

A laugh escapes Pippin as he quickly steps forward to smush his last bit of mushy cake into Y/N's cheek. "PIPPIN NOT ON MY FACE!" She shrieks, her face fighting against a smile.

"You were asking for it."

"I don't think I was!" Pippin just continues to laugh as Y/N scrapes the large glob of cake off her face.

"There! Now we're even!" Pippin grins just as Y/N lunges forward to shove the mushy cake in his face, accidentally knocking them both down to the floor.

"Now you have to clean the wall," Y/N begins before wiping her hand against Pippin's cheek. "And the kitchen again!"

"You could always help me clean?" He says innocently.

"No."

"What if I get you honey buns from the market tomorrow?"

"Hmm..."

"And some.....peaches too?"

"That sounds very intriguing," Y/N hums as her finger swipes a chunk of mushy cake off of Pippin's chin. "I think I will accept as I am a fair birthday person." She ends with a grin before popping her cake batter-covered finger into her mouth, enjoying the sweet taste with a hum.

"I suppose we better start cleaning then," Pippin sighs. "Before my cousins come over right?"

"Hmmm right..." Y/N grumbles before placing a small kiss on Pippin's lips. "Race you to the kitchen!"

"Hey wait!" Pippin cries as Y/N scrambles off of him and heads towards the kitchen. "Wait for me!"

Join the Taglist!

@starryeyedrogue

#fotfics #pippin x y/n #pippin x you #pippin x reader #lord of the rings #pippin #pippin took #reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fic

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abyssal-ali · 2 years

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Yet Forgives the Butcher's Knife

It's finally here! Yet Forgives the Butcher's Knife is my submission for the Jaysteph Weekend 2022, filling the prompts "Do I Want to Know?", College, and the chaotic bonus the Trifecta of Trouble.

Disclaimer: This follows Canon events up to a point, but since DC has the inability to stick to one timeline or version of events without retconning it, I'm taking liberties with some plot points.

(Canon-complicit to a point)

Rating: T TW: non-graphic talk about death/torture

(Read the teaser first as the first scene picks up directly from there :))

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

“Okay, J. Are you trying to be a vigilante? I gotta warn you, it's brutal. It's actually why I'm here. My dad's a D-list rogue, Cluemaster, and I hated how he ruined my mom's and my life, so I became Spoiler, spoiling his plans. Batman didn't like me running around as a tween without his approval, even though I was older than, like, all the Robins.

“Anyways, I ignored him, he kinda accepted I was there to stay, I had a couple months internship with as Robin before he fired me, and I went back to being Spoiler, started a gang war by accident, got caught by an A-list rogue and tortured...I flatlined in Leslie's OR and she faked my permanent death and moved us here to teach Bats a lesson about his kids or something.

“So, now you know Steph Brown,” Steph laughed easily.

“Wow, that's, um, a lot to process. Are you okay? Seeing a therapist or something? That sounds like a trip.”

“Oh yeah, it was. I'm okay-ish now...I mean, your black helmet isn't really helping my PTSD, but they're pretty common and it's not blatantly skull-like so...I'm okay.”

“You got caught by Black Mask?”J's jaw dropped, though Steph couldn't see it. “And survi-I mean...”

Steph grinned at J's faux pas. “It's fine, I have dark humour—being a Gothamite, and from the Narrows at that, it's kinda a prerequisite.”

“You're a Narrows kid? You hide the accent well,” J commented in surprise.

“Thanks? You know another Narrows kid or somethin'?”

“Wasn't it speculated that Robin 2 was from the Narrows?” Jason deflected, hoping Steph would bite.

“Yeah, he was my favourite. Street kid, Narrows like me—we might even have been neighbours!--fought smart but dirty, and he understood us in a way Bats and the first Robin didn't...he cared about us, y'know? The others cared more about stopping crime than the victims—I mean, obviously the crime needed to stop so there wouldn't be more victims, but Robin 2 was one of us and could connect with us. Batman and Nightwing are strangers, practically. Once I was on my way home from stalking my dad and some creep was trailing me. I could tell, but Robin swung down and took 'im out before I was in danger, and then he followed me home...it was so sweet. I always had the biggest crush on him...I was so sad when I heard he died. He was one of ours, one of us...sometimes I wonder what he'd be like if he was alive.”

With a sigh Steph shook off the melancholy and turned to J. “Sorry for the infodump. So, J, thanks you for the assist. And don't become a vigilante for fun.”

“I won't. Thanks for livening my evening. I liked your right hook...but saw your form was off on a couple moves. Did Batman not train you? I thought all his little birdies had a Ph.D in karate or somethin'...”

“Well, I was never a true Robin. Barely got any training from the big guy. He didn't even let me know anyone's ID or anythin' cool—basically all I got was the suit and a ton of lectures, more than Spoiler ever got. What a prick,” she muttered.

“He sounds like a huge prick,” agreed J. “If you'd like...I could improve your skills a bit? I've had a few professional trainers myself...”

“Sure, I'd love to get some formal training for once! When and where?”

“I have a building in town. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah, all day.”

“Be ready at 9 a.m., then. Night, Doll!” J left her on Leslie's doorstep and Steph went in to Leslie's worried questioning.

At 9:00 sharp J pulled up on a black motorcycle. Steph was waiting with a duffel and hopped on, driving to a nondescript warehouse-style building 15 minutes away from Leslie's. J walked to the door and went through fingerprint, retinal, and password locks. Finally J and Steph walked in to see an enormous gym, with mats, weights, ropes, a shooting range, archery range, pool, and various intense workout equipment.

J showed Steph to the bathroom and she changed into a tanktop and shorts before joining him in warmup stretches on the mats. “You're flexible,” J noted.

“Thanks— I took gymnastics lessons for 3 years before my dad got worse. I liked it and kept doing what I could...and that was one thing Batman helped with.”

For the next month J drastically improved Steph's form, skills, and stamina.

“How do you know all these skills? Do I want to know?” asked Steph one day during a water break.

“Can you keep a secret?” J asked, leaning in. Steph nodded. “I'm the second Robin.”

Steph stared at him, then started laughing. “Fine, then, keep your secrets.”

J stared back. “Fine. My mom has been training me for the past 3 years with various martial arts forms and weapons and some other fun stuff, like poisons and bombs and strategy. Happy?”

“You're serious,” Steph said flatly.

“Yes!”

“Huh. So...you're a ninja-in-training?”

“I am a ninja, but sure. I was just here to take care of a couple things for my mom when I met you.”

“You...stayed...here? For me?”

J nodded. “I really like you, Steph. A lot.”

“You like me too?”

J blinked. “You like me?”

Steph nodded emphatically. “Even if i still don't know if you're a 10 or not with that dramatic mask you always wear,” she joked.

“Will you go on a proper date with me, Stephanie Brown?”

“No.” J's face fell, but Steph continued, “I will join you in a spar and I will kick your butt one day.” She sat up and moved to the mats again. J laughed, “You're perfect.”

After their training session J walked Steph home as he always did. In sight of Leslie's, J paused and Steph turned to see why. He took her hand and took a breath. “My name is Jason. Jason al Ghul.”

Stephanie smiled at him. “Thank you for telling me, Jason. Jason...I like it. It suits you.”

~♡~

The next morning before their warm up began, Jason opened up to Steph. “Do you have time to hear my life story? It's depressing, at least for a non-Gothamite.”

“I'll always listen,” Steph said softly, taking his hands in hers. It always seemed to ground him and lately he'd started to do it unconsciously. Jason smiled at her and began.

“I'm a street kid from Crime Alley. My dad was a two-bit goon and my mom had a heroin addiction since she had cancer. She died when I was 8 and my dad was...gone, so I hit the streets. When I was 12, I was adopted by a wealthy man and I was actually safe—he was one of the few good ones. Sometimes we'd go back to Crime Alley to help my friends or the street kids. I had an older brother, but he was gone in Blüd most of the time. He didn't like me too much at first because our dad “replaced” him with me, but we'd started to get closer when he realized he was being a Dick.” Jason smiled at some joke Steph didn't get yet, then continued. “When I was 15, my dad and I got in a fight and I was grounded...I found my bio mom in Ethiopia and flew there to meet her. I thought she was blackmailed by Joker and tried to get her out, but she...she sold me out to him and smoked a cigarette as she watched him beat me half to death. Then he tied her up and left us in the warehouse with a bomb...I managed to get my mom free but I was caught in the explosion. I'm strong considering I'm from Crime Alley and the beating and bomb didn't finish me off," Jason smirked at that absolutely devastating tidbit. “The smoke and dust inhalation got me. I woke up in my coffin 6 feet underground and dug myself out with my belt buckle and left my fingernails in the dirt there. I wandered around, catatonic and relying on muscle memory for a few months until I started beating up some of my third mom's men and she came to see what the fuss was about. When my catatonia didn't lift, she put me in a pool of magic life juice, which healed me and upgraded my trauma to insanity and bloodlust. Once the Pit Madness settled, Mom sent me around the world, training with masters to become the best.

“I know it was partly to stall me, because my dad is her baby daddy and she doesn't want him dead, while I did. He never killed the Joker for me, for everyone else's safety, and I almost killed him and my brothers. Thankfully the Madness subsided, and while I'm still mad he didn't kill Joker, I'm not going to kill him over it. He won't kill, so I'll leave him alone and do it myself. I need a moniker for when I make the statement that I'm a better man than him, and since you don't like my black helmet, I'm thinking of stealing the clown's old name as a last laugh. So, could you stand a red helmet?”

Steph blinked. “Wow, your life is sadder than mine. Yeah, a red helmet wouldn't bother me at all. You look good in red, anyways.” She understood deflection very well, and let Jason steer the conversation away from what he'd just unloaded.

“Then meet the Red Hood,” Jason bowed to Steph and she giggled.

“Your story sounds kinda familiar, though.”

Jason removed the domino mask he normally wore around Steph (since he didn't wear the helmet around her). “You weren't kidding?” she gaped. “ You are Robin 2...wait, you look familiar...”

“My headstone says Jason Peter Todd, if that helps,” offered Jason.

“If Jason Todd was Robin 2, then Robin 1 has to be Dick Grayson, which means...” Steph's eyes grew larger. “Brucie Wayne, Ph. D in idiocy, is Batman?!”

“Got it in one, Doll,” Jason winked.

“That makes so much sense,” moaned Steph. “No wonder he never told me his name!”

“Your friend Robin 3 is Tim Drake, Bruce's newest adoptee. Looks like Drake finally died and B got custody again.”

“Wait,” interrupted Steph. “Why did Bruce adopt you? You met him as Batman, right? Well he caught me and never adopted me...how unfair!”

“You don't have black hair, Blondie,” Jason teased. “Step 1: dye your hair black. Step 2: Be a smart aleck and make Batman laugh because you stole the Batmobile's tires. Step 3: Reverse psychology: Hit 'im with your tire iron and run. Be reluctantly caught and thus adopted when he finds out you're a homeless orphan.”

Steph wheezed with laughter. “Of course you stole the Batmobile's tires! Oh man, the look on B-man's face must've been legendary!”

Jason grinned proudly. “At the time I was scared to death, but looking back, it was pretty funny....So, what'm I like, since I am alive?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Ughh, why? I can't believe I rhapsodized about you to you! Oh, kill me now. And I told you I had a crush on you...whyyyy?!” she wailed dramatically and Jason chuckled at her expense, the brat. Steph glared at him through her fingers.

“Sorry, I kinda like you, so Imma have to pass on the offer to murder you.”

“Stoppp,” she blushed, glad she was already hiding her face from him.

~♡~

This is a shorter chapter because my two sentences referencing tomorrow's prompt come directly after this 😆

Hope you enjoyed and feel free to Nicely leave constructive criticism!!

@jaystephevents @demonandangeltwins

#Jaystephweekend2022 #Jaysteph weekend #Jaysteph #Jason Todd #Stephanie brown #Ayftbk #And yet forgives the butchers knife #ali writes #Fic

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miraculous-trinity-leo · 4 years

Text

Ok so... I know I already have a fic going on right now, But... me writing Harley and Ivy as moms/parents to Marinette got me thinking about other fics I could write, so hear me out.

Either Harley or Ivy as Marinettes bio mom... (or both due to a crazy person's experiment...) it will also be a Damianette fic so yeah.

Ok, here are the options:

A. Harley is with Joker... they have a 'special' night or something, and then Joker tried to kill Harley for the something-ith time, and she finally leaves him thanks to Ivy. Ivy and Harley have been friends for a little over 3 years, and Harley may have started feeling happier around Ivy for awhile, and only realized after being free of the Joker that she really loves Ivy, and they start dating like a week or so after that realization.

After some time Harley will wake up with morning sickness, she gets cranky not wanting to go to the docter, but they go anyway, and that's when she finds out she's pregnant. They get back and Harley is in and out of horror, excitement, and all the weird moods a soon to be mother goes through. After a talk with Ivy, they decide to keep the child, and then Marie Quinzel-Isley is born 8 months later. She will still have midnight hair and stunning vibrant light blue eyes, and she'll grow up learning tricks like slight of hand, gymnastics stuff, self-defense, the proper technique to use a bat, and the other usual child of rogues things... (like love for the environment, and extremely exotic pets...).

B. Harley is long over the Joker, and is with Ivy, they are known for their environment protectiveness, and the occasional theft thanks to something Selina drags them into. During two separate occasions, one with Harley getting kidnapped, and then like a week later Ivy, some villain gets their blood, and fusses both their blood, and with plot magic and unknown science, they create a child, when the vilian steels some sort of plant Ivy really loves (and can enhance the baby's meta-powers) Ivy and Harley stumble in on the villian preparing to give the baby some sort of weird something in a needle, they beat the life out of him, asking what the hell he's doing with some random kid. said villian will then tell them it's not just any random child, it's your child (insert some crazy laugh) he gets beat up more, because wtf? who makes a baby out of people's DNA without their consent?(ehem, Talia ehem!!)... anyway they see this child, and it just so happens that in the moment, the baby opens her eyes, and they fall in love with her, effectively keeping her and naming her Mary Quinzel-Isley.

Now for her powers:

For option A. She can just be born with abilities that are a good chunk above the average person. She will learn how to fight with anything and everything, and will be great at reading people.

For option B. She can have both above average physical abilities, and plant manipulation/communication, and will still be good at reading people to some extent. She will learn how to use anything to fight, and will be a little chaoticly creative ball of joy to be around.

and for either option she can also learn magic and stuff, or just have a natural affinity for it, and is also taught by the Riddler so she can kick butt and Riddle me the f-ck out of anyone.

Now on to the Miraculous part, which can be in either option A or B:

Marinette will spend most of her life in Gotham until the Bats start getting a little to curious as to why a mini Harley/Ivy is running around fighting both wannabe villians and on occasion some Teen Titans hero (Beastboy, they become buds after she kicks his butt for the 10th time. and will later be friends with Raven). Selina is also dating Batman so when Selina tells them the Bat is looking for Marinette, she gets stuck with taking care of Marinette until the heat dies down. So when Marinette is 10 she and her Antie Selina go to Paris, where family friends of Selina own a small yet wonderful bakery. Marinette is then introduced to Tom and Sabine, she later meets a crazy girl that lives on her skates named Alix Kubdel and they become friends, since she is kinda board with the school system there, she starts to take up hobbies, like Sewing, more gymnastics, and fencing, where she meets and befriends Kagami Tsurugi. The three are joint at the hip, and are always daring each other to do stupid and or silly things. Marinette always goes back to Gotham on both summer and winter break, but is alsmot never allowed to go out just in case the Bats find her... (almost) she sneeks out sometimes to hang out with Beastboy to see how he and the Titans are doing.

When Marinette is 12 thats when things get a little weird... as in she starts feeling extremely creative/(more)Chaotic at the same time when she's doing something. During one of her Creative/Chaotic moods/feelings she goes out for a walk, noticing a man that fell in the middle of the road, she instantly goes to help him up, leading him to the sidewalk. When she handed the man his cain, she gets a VERY sudden feeling of power, when she looks the man in the face she sees he is also slightly shocked. She wished him well and darted back to her house not looking back at the shocked man. on the way back she starts seeing things... like seeing the dark thoughts of everyone around her, as well as their life energy/force it overwhelms her, and when she gets back to the Bakery where her and Selina are staying she quickly greets everyone and goes to her room. She thought her room would be safe from the weird energy she was seeing but no. There on her desk would be a small box of either Chaotic energy or Creative energy (I'll let you decide which Kwami She gets, 🐞 for Tikki, and 🐈‍⬛ for Plagg(if you choose Plagg Selina will be happy, and Plagg will cackle with Marinettes' mom Harley...just saying)) anyway, she doesn't touch the box until the next day, most of the weird energy looking stuff is gone except for whats surrounding the small box. The Stone heart thing will still happen, (I can see either Alix or Kagami weilding Tikki, but more Kagami. Alix can still get Fluff if she doesn't get Tikki, but I'm not sure what Adrien will get in the future... Maybe Roar(So he's still a Catboy, or Tiger boy)) So they'll face Stone heart and so on, the rest of spring is crazy, she quickly realizes the old man was the one who gave her the box, found out where he was (due to the crazy energy around his shop, which for convenience is maybe 15 or so blocks away from the Bakery). She has a talk with him and tells him she leaves Paris every summer and winter break, and is then given Kaalki... (permanently bc... plot, and bc she is a special f-cking girl that could rule the whole world if she willed it damit!). So she becomes a hero, and she blows it during her visit to Gotham, and ends up telling her moms and antie about the tiny cat god ("OMG Kitten! I knew it!No wonder you started using more Cat puns around me!" - Selina at some point) and the tiny horse god ("Dey're so f-ckin' cute!" - Harley) So more shenanigans ensue.

•—–·★·–—

So these are my Ideas for a Harley and or Ivy Bio moms to Marinette fic, please let me know whether you want option A. or B., whether you want Marinette to have either Tikki🐞 or Plagg🐈‍⬛, and whether you want her to be called Marie, Mary or just Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Hope you're all having a wonderful day, stay safe, and saty positive. !BUG-OUT! 🐞💮🐞

#Harley Quin Bio mom #harley and ivy #maribat #fic ideas #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damimari #damianette #maridami #chaotic marinette #badass marinette #maribat fic idea #maribat fic

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sweetestpopcorn · 3 years

Note

why do you think daemon left king's landing that easily in 111 ac if he really intended to marry rhaenyra? as far as we know viserys sent him back yes but daemon wasn't an obedient man. he could have just take rhaenyra (would she even refuse 😩😩 i mean... i wouldn't..) , secretly marry her and have children much earlier. viserys would forgive them anyway in the end

*daemon and rhaenyra escapes and marries*

viserys: hOw Can tHeY Do tHiS! 😵😵*almost having a heart attack*

*after aegon's birth*

viserys: okay now they have become parents, i think i can forgive them.. 🤔🤔

*after viserys' birth*

viserys: my daughter and brother named their second son after me 😍😍😍 *sends a raven and welcomes them back*

daemon: *whispering to rhaenyra* i told u 😉

THAT WOULD BE THIS EASY 😩😩😩😩

Hi there, Anon :D

I hope you don’t mind me answering both asks on the same post haha 😂 I mean you mostly answered yourself.

Well he left because he wasn’t really given a choice… going against the king’s direct orders was high treason and it would give Viserys the right to either throw Daemon into a black cell or sentence him to die. And let’s not forget the likes of Lyonell Strong even urged Viserys to sentence Daemon to death on the spot for seducing Rhaenyra, it was Septon Eustace who advised him against doing it.

On a side note, you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble later on Lyonel if you just let the Rogue Prince have the Iron Throne, ups, Rhaenyra. But whatever it was on your head not mine.

Given Viserys’s extreme reaction I can understand why Daemon left, and let’s not forget that while he did challenge Viserys from time to time, not even Daemon went against direct orders. For example, when Viserys ordered him to send Mysaria back to Lys, return the egg and return himself to the Vale and Rhea Royce, he did do these things. So as rogue as Daemon was, even he had his limits.

As to why he didn’t get rid of Rhea before easy: plot convenience. Rhea was the only thing stopping Daemon from marrying Rhaenyra in secret. If Rhea didn’t exist I have no doubt Daemon would have done it and convince Rhaenyra to only tell her father once she was pregnant. That way there would be no denying the marriage. Babies have a way of proving people had s€x beyond any doubt 😂 (when they look like their father at least 🤭 sorry Laenor). But because George is a cruel man who denied us the chaotic union that was promised for eight years, he needed something to stop them from just getting married. And this came in the form of Rhea Royce aka the Meg Griffin of the Dance Era.

And yes, Rhea is just ruining everything for everyone here!!!! 😤😤😤😤 Godamn it!!!!!!!!!! She stopped Rhaenyra from making an honest woman out of Daemon! This is why no one likes you Rhea, this right here!!! How dare you exist 😤😤😤

I am NOT pleased!

All the best to you, Anon 🥰

#rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhea royce #ugh this was why daemon hated her!#ruining everything for everyone by existing!#godamn it!#popcorn rages #and answers

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sapphim · 3 years

Note

please tell us about the kirkwall campaign and warden hexcrawl too!

the warden hexcrawl is this massive game that's been running in vigil's keep for over a decade now. with a west marches campaign you don't need to get a consistent group together, you can just collect anyone who's available to play at a given time and throw together an adventuring party. at this point the map is enormous, spanning multiple planes of existence. they've cleared entire megadungeons. everyone ends up collecting a stable of characters they can choose from based on party comp and desired level of play. dm-ing your first session is something of a rite of passage. it spun off from whatever informal game they played around the campfire during the blight but since then it's evolved into what is essentially an institution.

the kirkwall campaign is. something else entirely lmfao. varric's a really well-practiced and flexible dm now but booooy did they get off to a rough start because he built an entire campaign around the party behaving essentially as he expected them to, and that plan was ruined the moment they rolled their characters.

I’m cutting this for length here bc christ it’s so much. if it’s too much then blame @sandayuoda

anders. ruins everything immediately because varric was expecting him to play a healer and instead he turns up with this extremely chaotic revenge-motivated edgelord of a character. he's tired of being nice and sometimes he just wants to go apeshit, you know? this is the only outlet he has for stress release these days. he shows up to session one and shows varric his character sheet and varric's like "what the fuck" and then he hands varric his 20 pages of tragic character backstory (he read the campaign document and tied his character's backstory into the setting) and varric's like "what the everloving fuck blondie." varric had littered that thing with red herring villains and clever misdirection (he thought) and anders immediately pinpointed the intended bbeg of the campaign (not!Meredith) and made his tragic backstory revolve heavily around her. who actually reads the campaign document??? well that was lucky for him, since eventually leaning on this backstory becomes one of the only ways he can keep the campaign moving forward. also, anders outs himself as a closet furry by playing catfolk, to the surprise of absolutely no one.

aveline. predictable human paladin type. claims to be LG but ultimately plays more like LN. at the start she's one of the only things keeping the party on the rails but eventually just ends up following them around and tutting disapproval (much like in real life). she's that player who writes a completely normal character with a completely normal backstory and family waiting for them back home so the dm has to continually jump through hoops to provide them with character motivation to continue adventuring.

bethany. absolutely does not want to play a spellcaster. plays instead a sort of martial ranger/hunter build and dumps everything into animal handling. essentially plays a pretty disney princess except everywhere she goes she’s followed by a small army of feral animals she's befriended and trained to fight.

carver. plays some sort of magus/gish type, because yeah ok magic is cool, but swords are cooler. crossplays as a female character and it's no big deal but it's also really, really hard for the party to keep the pronouns straight because she's a hot-headed veteran so he's essentially just playing himself.

fenris. just a fighter guy. (varric: "really, broody? an elf with a big sword?" fenris: "I was told I could be what I want. is that not allowed.") his character has no backstory and needs no backstory. he is here to roll dice and his character is a single child and an orphan with no ties to anyone or anything so stop asking. deals the highest dpr in the party as he eventually gets sucked into reading charop guides and thus becomes the only one among them who is even a little bit optimized.

isabela. every party needs a chaotic neutral rogue and she is happy to oblige. something fun and sexy and chaotic like a tiefling. (isabela: "what? I'm optimized. I put all my skill ranks into seduce and fuck" varric: "those aren't things and you haven't found a single trap since the game started") on a mission to get loot, start bar fights, and flirt with every npc she encounters. (she always asks to touch their chest hair. she may just be flirting with varric. it becomes a running gag that every barmaid in varric's world has a lustrous carpet of chest hair.) tbh isabela is one of the only players behaving exactly as chaotically as varric expected, he just hoped she'd be outvoted.

merrill. plays a chaotic good barbarian type, some massive dude. she does the best deep growly voice she can manage. she just wants to try something fun and different! her barbarian is also a real sweetheart and probably the most unoptimized character, with the highest intelligence of anyone in the party.

sebastian. also ruins everything immediately with his character. (varric: "choir boy, you can't play a fiendpact warlock, you're... you know... you!" seb: "...but this is a roleplaying game, right? I was told this was a roleplaying game.") also plays a tiefling, which is his repressed slutty side coming out. he and isabela didn’t plan this out but she finds it hilarious and they get together after the session and plot out a joint backstory in which they do crimes. after he makes one too many off-handed jokes about his dark patron being "basically [his] evil grandmother" varric starts playing her like elthina but he'll never admit it.

eventually the party's rolling up into town followed by a pack of wolves, an owlbear, an alligator, and a murder of ravens

isabela and hawke ask simultaneously where the nearest tavern is

seb's like "oh varric remember it's getting time I need to appease my dark patron again"

aveline sighs and says "I'll be making donations at the temple I guess"

varric just holds up his stack of notes for the town and tears them into pieces in front of them

"I may as well just rip these up right now and get it out of the way because we all know how this is going to end"

"how is it going to--"

"in disaster, merrill, that's how it's going to end. that's how it always ends."

anyway that was then. they've been playing the same characters for years (as varric has pulled increasingly absurd threats for them to face off against out of his ass) so now they're prestige classed epic level abominations of characters. hawke highkey prestiged into dragon disciple and later found a way to permanently polymorph into a full dragon at some point, I'm sure.

#catgirlalchemist

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

Text

Stiles thought the best way to end things was to never let them start in the first place.

That’s what his case seemed to be anyway.

See, if something started, it had to end. Stiles had learned that the hard way over and over again during his life. His mom’s sickness came and didn’t go away until it had stripped her from him in every way possible. Then he’d been thrust into the chaotic world of werewolves, banshees, and hunters, and he was pretty sure it was all going to end with his inevitable doom.

Things always came to an end one way or another. So eventually, Stiles had decided it was easier to just never let them start.

That began with the case of Lydia Martin.

Stiles’s mom used to tell him that if he put his mind to something, there was nothing that could stand in his way. Of course, that hadn’t worked when she’d gotten sick and he’d decided there was no way she could ever die. Fate couldn’t be that cruel. Stiles had told himself one day that parents couldn’t die and fully believed afterward, that if he set his mind to that fact, she’d live forever.

That changed the day of the funeral. Not before, not even when he’d been alone in the hospital and the heart monitor had gone flat. No, it’d taken him a lot longer than that to realize she was gone and… and parents could die.

People could in general.

The next thing he set his mind to was Lydia Martin. There was something about sharp green eyes and the way she looked when solving a problem that made him think maybe, maybe, this was what his mom had meant. That some things were just meant to be.

Stiles was ten when he set his mind to Lydia Martin.

He was sixteen when she set her own to Jackson Whittemore.

Or maybe, he thought, it was less of her mind and more of her heart. And that’s what really mattered, wasn’t it?

Seventeen-year-old Stiles ended up being determined. Not in any way particular anymore, no. He was determined in general; determined to survive, determined to get through the rest of his teenage years without becoming werewolf chow or prey to whatever else Beacon Hills brought.

It all started with the case of Lydia Martin. It ended that way too.

And honestly, Stiles didn’t think it was all bad, necessarily. He was the sidekick, the token human. He had this baseball bat, a can of wolfsbane pepper spray, and his trusty jeep. Stiles Stilinski was the kid in the red hoodie, where it was darker in certain spots from bloodstains that never fully washed away. Things didn’t need to start with him, because they had already begun with the people who actually mattered.

But then there was the matter of Derek Hale.

The first time Stiles had run into the werewolf in the middle of the woods, his brain had gone nope, scary, bad. There was something about Derek that Stiles couldn’t put his finger on. The man scared him half to death for the entirety of his freshman year and then one day, Stiles realized he wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

Derek Hale was difficult to figure out. When Stiles was faced with a problem, he liked to take his time. Figure it out.

With his mom, it had been something involving hope. See, Stiles had known she was sick. He wasn’t young enough to think that couldn’t happen. But he didn’t quite put it all together until after weeks of watching the nurses move in and out of his mom’s hospital room, with their notepads and checklists that he could never make out the words of.

One of the nurses gave him his own pad and red-inked pen one day. She told him to draw whatever he wanted, as if sitting in the same chair for hours on end wasn’t healthy. Looking back now, Stiles supposed maybe it wasn’t.

That was probably the first time he’d tried to solve a puzzle like the adults did. He’d always sucked at drawing anyway.

Red was unsolved.

Stiles still owned that red pen.

For Lydia Martin, Stiles tried to step up his game. He made this ten-year plan that was destined to go right. The more details, the better, he thought. Except maybe ten years wasn’t enough, or maybe he’d skipped over some important step, because it never ended up happening.

Stiles bought the whiteboard when werewolves became a thing. A whiteboard with red string, yellow string, and green. Then at some point, there was blue too. Stiles couldn’t really remember when that happened.

It kind of snuck up on him. Like the matter of Derek Hale.

Oh— fucking Derek Hale.

Things started to end when fucking Derek Hale kissed him.

Stiles couldn’t exactly remember what had put Derek in a bad mood, but the man had been stomping around for weeks with an expression that constantly promised murder. Stiles supposed if he was smart, he would have stuck with the rest of the pack and avoided the man like the plague, but Stiles never claimed to be smart.

Clever, sometimes. But not smart. Not often, at least.

Erica thought his bad mood was caused by the last threat they faced; a rather bloodthirsty hunter who had shot Derek in the chest. It’d taken the man three days to fully heal, so Stiles thought that was possible.

But he could never get a good read on the werewolf, okay? Red was unsolvable. Derek was unsolvable. The man was like a riddle Stiles hadn’t been able to solve and no matter what angle he looked at the werewolf from, he hadn’t been able to figure Derek Hale out.

Not yet, at least.

And then there was the argument.

To be fair, Stiles didn’t argue with Derek as often as he did someone like Jackson. Sure, he often drove Derek to flash red eyes or occasionally threaten to rip his head off, but that was just their relationship. Stiles drove him crazy and when Lydia gave him that knowing look, he pretended the man didn’t exist until their next ‘I’ll rip your throat out’ type of conversation.

But this time was different. This time, Stiles had almost— only almost though— gotten himself ripped apart by a rogue omega. And then Derek was red-eyed right from the beginning.

And Stiles sometimes had a tendency to push.

“I’m just saying,” he said, crossing his arms to Derek’s rather murderous expression. “If I were any one of the other pack members, you would have clapped me on the back for taking the omega out.”

“You nearly got yourself killed, Stiles,” Derek growled. “You were stupid and reckless, and you put yourself and the pack in danger!”

“I have a baseball bat for a reason, asshole! I can take care of myself!”

The man looked livid, the red in his eyes not even close to the minor turn-on that Stiles sometimes found it to be. But it wasn’t like any of this was his fault, really. Sure, he’d gotten a little scratched up, but it wasn’t like the rest of the pack had gotten off scott-free. Stiles had seen his chance and he’d taken it, knocking the omega right out with his recently upgraded steel baseball bat.

If anything Derek should be thanking him, not flipping out.

“It’s just because I’m human,” Stiles said hotly. Derek growled again.

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what else is it, Derek? All my limbs are still intact and there’s still life in this token human’s lungs, so I think that counts as a win! The omega was about to rip Isaac’s throat out anyway, so I did a good thing!”

“You did a stupid thing.”

Stiles drew back, seething. It wasn’t like this was the first time Derek had chewed him out for doing something ‘irresponsible’ or ‘stupid’ but usually Scott was around to keep one of them from committing murder. The loft was empty this time, though, the rest of the pack having gone out to celebrate while Derek had all but forced Stiles back to the loft to take a look at his injures.

Which were scratches. Stiles got worse at lacrosse practice.

“Whatever,” he said, turning away. “I’m going to meet up with the rest of the pack. Scott said he’d buy me fries for being a badass. Which I was, asshole.”

“Dammit, Stiles!”

Stiles clenched his jaw and spun back around. The red had faded a little from Derek’s eyes, but he still looked murderous. And wouldn’t that be unfortunate it Stiles had survived being torn to shreds only to have his throat ripped out by Derek Hale?

“I just—” The man took a step forward and then grimaced, folding his arms over his chest again. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“But just me.”

“The others can heal.”

“Allison can’t.”

Derek’s eyes flashed. “Allison is a hunter. She’s had training.”

“I have a baseball bat!”

“That is not—” Derek glared. “That’s not good enough. You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a giant ass!”

Derek growled again, uncrossing his arms. And if Stiles was being honest, he wasn’t sure how one thing turned to another. But one moment, he was pretty sure he could punch the man out, stepping forward and lifting his chin, and then Derek was yanking him even closer, kissing him hard before Stiles could even react.

Derek was kissing him. Derek Hale was kissing him.

Stiles was pretty sure his brain short-circuited for a second, but he probably wouldn’t have pulled away even if it hadn’t. And he’d totally blame that for the moment it took him to respond, because Stiles had been so sure one of them was going to murder the other. Not… this.

Though, he would happily let this be how he died.

Yeah, this could be how he died.

Derek’s nipped sharply at his lower lip and Stiles groaned, his brain coming back online slowly. If he would have known this would happen when they really argued, he would have started picking fights with the werewolf a lot sooner. Though, maybe it was all built up over time. The man kissed him like they were still arguing, the one way Stiles couldn’t mouth off to win the fight.

He could be okay with that, though.

Stiles was still dazed with Derek eventually pulled back a few inches, the man’s breaths warm against his skin. He wasn’t the only one panting, Stiles realized, his own heart thudding like a drum against his chest.

For a moment, they both just stood there. And for the first time that night, Stiles’s mind was completely empty. And it was nice, in a strange way. Like he’d been drugged.

Then Stiles blinked a few times and stared. Except Derek wasn’t even looking back at him.

The man avoided his gaze like Stiles wasn’t there, posture rigid with his arms folded over his chest again. Like that was the only defense he had against Stiles and the few inches between them. Stiles’s brain didn’t even have a chance to catch up before Derek’s voice broke the silence— low and shaky.

“You should go.”

And just like that, the haze was gone. Stiles stiffened, staring incredulously at the man, but Derek definitely wasn't meeting his gaze. “I should… what?”

“You should go, Stiles.”

Stiles stared. Slowly, a lump formed in his throat.

Because this was what happened, right? Something started, something ended. Stiles stood rooted to the spot for another long moment, feeling like he’d just taken a blow, until Derek fixed him with one of those red-eyed looks. And Stiles didn’t even know how to categorize it. The man’s face was carefully blank. He didn’t look mad, repulsed, or even regretful. He just looked—

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Nodding silently, he turned away, starting toward the loft door. And despite it all, some part of him thought Derek might call his name before he reached it. Or at least say something. Anything.

But the man didn’t. And Stiles didn’t glance back.

Going after the omega earlier hadn’t been the stupid move, he realized. No, it hadn’t even been close.

But this?

This was the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

Fuck Derek Hale.

That’s what Stiles would like to say. Fuck Derek Hale and the radio silence that stretched on for two months after that one night.

Stiles used to secretly look forward to the few nights a week when his window would be shoved up and Derek would pull himself through, always with some excuse about the monster of the week or research. But the only time Stiles had seen the man since had been during pack meetings and he could’ve sworn that Derek was keeping as much distance between them as possible, never saying a direct word to Stiles unless he had to.

It made him feel… dirty, almost. Wrong. If he could go back and keep that night from happening, Stiles would, because that’s where it all went wrong. That’s where it all went wrong, right? It’s not like it had been a long time coming or anything.

He hadn’t— Stiles didn’t— dammit.

Fuck Derek Hale.

The way Stiles saw it, if Derek was going to go around pretending he didn’t exist, then he was going to do the exact same. That started with completely ignoring the werewolf at each pack meeting and then Stiles started skipping them in general, getting the information through Scott. The boy seemed beyond confused but Stiles refused to give his reasoning for pretending Derek didn’t exist.

The Alpha was an asshole, was all he’d say. And then Lydia would give him one of those knowing looks.

Stiles really hated the pack sometimes.

He did his best not to think about it had felt when Derek had kissed him, or the way the man had tugged at his hair, bit down on his bottom lip, and how that feeling was literally imprinted into his brain. He didn’t look at his window and wonder what the hell was so wrong with kissing him— what was so wrong with wanting him?

So Stiles stopped going to pack meetings. And when the betas started following him around school asking questions, he pretended he had no idea what they were talking about.

One month passed without Stiles seeing Derek. And he was fine.

Then the next monster of the week came to town and there was a knock at his window.

When Stiles glanced up from his laptop to see Derek crouching on the roof, he stared for a long moment before completely ignoring the man. It wasn’t like Derek to knock; he used to just let himself in, sometimes already waiting in Stiles’s room when he came back from lacrosse practice. And yeah, Stiles had always complained. It was creepy after all.

But it was also Derek.

A few seconds passed before his window was pushed up and Derek pulled himself into the bedroom. Stiles kept his gaze firmly on his computer screen.

Derek had to be insane if he thought he was getting any research help.

“Stiles—”

“No.”

Derek went silent for a moment. On Stiles’s computer, his movie continued to play, and he continued to be watching it.

Then, “Stiles, the pack needs your help.”

“The pack?”

One more moment of silence, followed by; “I need your help.”

Stiles finally hit pause, glancing up at the Alpha coldly. He did his best to ignore the way his heart twisted at the sight of Derek, because Stiles didn’t care. He could’ve gone another long month— he could have gone two. And why the hell was Derek here, anyway? Stiles wasn’t the only one who knew how to use a computer. “Go ask Lydia.”

Derek’s expression did something strange. “Lydia?”

“She’s a genius, you know.”

“I don’t— the pack doesn’t—” Derek blinked, then clenched his jaw. For a moment, the man actually looked frustrated. “I need your help, Stiles, not hers.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said, gesturing to his computer. “I’m busy.”

He told himself he didn’t take a little bit of pleasure in the way that Derek’s face tightened. But the man was definitely looking frustrated now and honestly? he shouldn’t have expected this visit to go any differently.

“There’s something ripping apart animals in the preserve,” Derek said through gritted teeth. Stiles shrugged.

“A mountain lion?”

“Stiles.”

“Or maybe it’s a bear.”

“Stiles.”

“What, Derek?” Stiles said, shutting his computer harder than he meant to. But the man’s tone was nothing but angry now and he was looking at Stiles like this was his fault. Like it hadn’t been three months of absolutely no contact and Derek hadn’t kissed him before literally throwing him out of the loft like week-old trash.

It made Stiles feel dirty. Yeah, that’s what it was.

And he couldn’t figure out why.

“I don’t want you here,” Stiles said, dropping his gaze. He hated himself a bit for how small his voice sounded. “I don’t want you here, Derek.”

The silence continued to reign. And when Stiles glanced back up, Derek was just looking at him. Silently, blankly. Just like that one night, Stiles couldn’t read his expression.

He swallowed hard at the memory. “I’m done, Derek. This— all of it— we’re done.”

There was a flicker of red in the man’s eyes. And Stiles had thought that telling him off, sending him away, would be a victorious moment. He’d felt so crappy after being the one kicked out first, that he thought it’d make him feel better to be the one sending Derek away this time.

But it really didn't.

“Do the research yourself,” Stiles said, opening his laptop back up and clicking the play button of his movie. “Or ask someone else to do it.”

He didn’t get an answer. But Stiles just locked his gaze on his computer screen and waited a few long minutes before he dared to glance back up again.

And when he did, Derek was gone and his window was still open.

Stiles was mad.

He was mad, he was hurt, and he was so freaking confused, it was starting to affect his sleep. His day-to-day life. Scott kept him updated on the comings and goings of the pack and Stiles got even madder, even though he couldn’t explain it.

Then at some point, after he’d stopped keeping track of how long it had been since that night, he decided he was done. Done being so pissed at fucking Derek Hale.

He showed up to the next pack meeting and Derek looked so surprised, Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug. He was thrumming out of his skin a little bit, but tried to act like it was the complete opposite, letting the betas practically bowl him over as fingers traced along the back of his neck and Derek continued to stare.

The man only broke his gaze when Lydia snapped fingers in front of his face. And he gave her a red-eyed look at that.

Stiles stuck next to Scott’s side and kept his gaze anywhere but Derek.

He thought everything could have gone worse.

By the time the pizza was gone, the betas were still moaning about how hungry they were, only to get a twenty from Derek and a growled ‘get out’, Stiles felt a little less nervous. Scott had one arm slung over Allison’s shoulder with plans to hang out after, even as he asked Stiles sheepishly if he wanted to tag along.

Stiles had been the third wheel for long enough to know he really didn’t want to be around when they decided to hang out this late on a weekend.

“Come with us, Batman,” Erica said, latching onto his arm. Stiles snorted.

“And wind up paying for dessert when you three eat through twenty dollars of pizza in five minutes? No thank you.”

The girl pouted, giving him a batted-eyes look, but Stiles shrugged her off.

“Nope, I’ve got homework,” he said. “And my own fridge at home where werewolves with infinite appetites won’t eat all my food.”

“You can’t do homework on a Friday,” Isaac said. “That’s so lame.”

“You’re so lame.”

“Great response, Stilinski,” Jackson said, sneering. Stiles just smirked back.

“Whatever, lizard boy.”

Lydia gave him a sharp look, grabbing Jackon’s arm and pulling him toward the door before the beta could say anything back. Stiles rolled his eyes, letting Erica grab his arm again as she started to drag him after them, but then someone cleared their throat behind him.

Erica let go in a second. Stiles froze, slowly turning around to see Derek standing near the table with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I need Stiles to stay.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat and he cursed silently. “Actually, I’ve really got to—”

“It’s fine,” Boyd said, cutting him off. Stiles shot the beta a venomous look, but Boyd pointedly avoided Stiles’s glare. “Stiles can catch up.”

“Or, I could just—”

“Stiles,” Derek said. Stiles looked back at him reluctantly, but the man’s expression really wasn't as threatening as he’d expected. If anything, he looked a little pleading.

Words stuck in Stiles’s throat, so he just nodded, dropping his gaze again. And Erica traced fingers over the back of his neck one more time before the betas followed Jackson and Lydia out the loft door.

Silence fell over the room. Stiles swallowed hard and slowly raised his eyes. “What?”

“I was surprised to see you here tonight.”

“I’m still a part of the pack,” Stiles said. Derek looked surprised.

“Of course.”

“So you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I just thought that after last time—”

“Oh hell, no,” Stiles said, stalking forward. All the anger he’d felt before came rising back up at Derek’s words and he jabbed a finger into the man’s chest, making Derek stiffen even more. “You don’t get to pull that card. It’s all so shitty, Derek, you know that? These past few months have been so shitty.”

Derek just looked down at Stiles’s finger, as if he was surprised at something. At the reaction, at Stiles’s anger, whatever.

Stiles was still pissed.

“I know you don’t like to talk,” Stiles said. “I know you’re the big bad Alpha werewolf who doesn’t need anyone but himself and especially doesn’t need the token human. But you kissed me, asshole. You kissed me and kicked me out, and do you even know how fucked up that is?”

Derek’s gaze finally traveled back up to Stiles’s face. His hands were still stuffed into his pockets and Stiles didn’t know if that was better or worse than when the man would keep his arms barricaded over his chest.

“If it was a mistake, fine,” Stiles said. “But you should have told me.”

“Stiles, it wasn’t… I don’t…”

The man sucked at talking. Stiles could accept that. But as Derek trailed off, he thought he might go crazy if he had to leave the loft again without any answers.

Derek was still saying half sentences. Biting back a curse, Stiles surged forward.

The first time Derek had kissed him, Stiles .exe had completely stopped working. He didn’t quite get that reaction with Derek this time, but the man definitely froze for a moment. And Stiles figured this could go two ways. Derek could kick him out of the loft with reason this time, or the absolute whirlwind that Stiles had been going through these past few months would finally stop.

He kissed Derek hard and hungry, and it was so much different than last time.

Then the man was kissing him too. The hands that had been stuck in his pockets moved down Stiles’s sides, down his thighs, and then Derek was picking him up, turning away from the loft door and heading toward the couch.

So it’s option two, Stiles thought hazily.

Thank fucking god.

Derek lowered him onto the cushions and drew back a few inches, green eyes searching Stiles’s face. And for some reason, Stiles was terrified again for a moment. Because things always started and things always stopped but god, he didn’t want this to stop.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Derek said softly. “You’re not a mistake.”

Stiles held his gaze, almost waiting for the ‘but’. Except it never came, Derek hesitated for another moment, some unreadable expression flickering across his face.

“Is this okay?”

Was this okay?

Stiles could have laughed for a moment. Some sharp, shocked laugh. Because fuck, if this wasn’t more than okay. Everything leading up to it sucked, yeah, and some part of Stiles wanted to chew Derek out. But another wanted to make sure that the constipated idiot knew that he was okay, this was okay, it was okay.

“Dammit, Sourwolf,” Stiles breathed out. “It’s okay.”

Derek’s eyes flickered red. And Stiles nearly choked on his own breath as the smallest hint of a smile tugged at the Alpha’s lips. One he’d never seen before— soft, almost a little nervous.

Yeah, this was more than okay.

Because red was unsolvable, right? And Stiles was pretty sure he was still figuring Derek Hale out. But this didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon.

And the first time in a long time, Stiles set his mind to something new.

Or, maybe his heart.

Tagging @roricomplex for the amazing prompt, I hope it turned out okay! I had a ton of fun with this one, thanks for sending a number <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #prompts #roricomplex #teen wolf au #sterek au #teen wolf moodboard #sterek moodboard #light angst #light fluff

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chews-erotically · 4 years

Photo

Waxing Gibbous

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Angst/violence/gore/blood/mentions of prostitution/SMUT(eventual)/veryinaccuratesurgicalprocedure

Honestly words have been fermenting in my brain for many moons. I am new to this, so please be gentle. I have written before, however never for a fandom. Special thank you to @yespolkadotkitty and @rzrcst for their support and encouragement, it truly means the world to me.

Summary: You are a nurse on the Green moon contracted to care for a group of prospectors. An act of violence forces you to flee your camp. Ezra finds you.

Words: 2376

PART ONE

The first time Ezra fell, it was with the Saters. You’d been hunched in a cordoned-off section of tent, dust motes waxing and waning against the haze of thick, dank air. At least you could breathe, a small mercy it was to remove your helmets and sit unfettered in the musty inner folds of the makeshift barracks.

The Sater stank. When he sneered at you, his grey lips parted to reveal the jagged tombstones of his teeth. When you had first sat down and dispelled with the perfunctory greetings, choking down the offering of what always reminded you of unsweetened Turkish coffee mixed with engine oil, his eyes made no attempt to hide the way they had raked over you as if you were some shiny toy. Or a bag of meat. You were under no delusions when it came to the fact that you, by nature of being female, were going to be ogled. Still, it left you no less disgusted as you fought to keep your face impassive while his eyes honed in on your chest.

Ezra sat beside you on the narrow bench, hunched forward with forearms balanced on knees that were spread to allow for his head to clear the sunken canvas ceiling. His expression was equally neutral, the only hint of tension showing in the tight bunch of muscle at his jaw. He knew as well as you that if the sater did not accept the barter, things would turn dark.

Ezra had been here longer than you. Stranded with no transport after the crew he’d arrived with turned on each other over dig locations and payload disbursement. The pod they’d arrived in had been burned, irreparably damaged and left no more than a husk in the Green due to the short-sighted fury and bullheaded ire of his hired compatriots. In the fracas, he’d sustained an injury to his right arm from a rogue thrower shot. In retrospect it could have been much worse, but the spores of mold that made the air so toxic had worked its way into his flesh the same way selfishness and suspicion had seeded the demise of his partners.

You were hired as a nurse to tend to your own hired prospecting crew, lured in with promises of adventure and treasures beyond your wildest dreams. You had known there had to be a catch, you were not so naive to believe that consequence could elude you, but you had signed the contract anyway hoping for more than the dreary clinic you’d worked in for the past five years. You were alone, you were lonely, you had no family. Your few friends had steadily drifted away from you as they met their own partners, started their own families. You were left to the ether. So you signed almost without thought when the recruiter came, signed before you had time to think it through, because you were aware that if you thought too much you’d talk yourself out of it. You knew all too well how adept you were at talking yourself out of things.

So, you’d arrived on the Green and things had proceeded as planned, uneventful for the most part. The others on the crew were respectful, if a bit distant. Nothing untoward had happened until a contractor by the name of Jorin began to take a particular interest in you. At first you’d been able to politely deflect his advances. Showing up in your tent unannounced, he feigned all manner of illness and injury to get your attention. Over time he became more aggressive, invading your space until you had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was not welcome. It was not until he’d followed you back to your cot and tried to push you down that you’d snapped. You hadn’t meant to kill him, but the scalpel you had hidden in your fist had found its way to his carotid artery nonetheless. So you left, and you were blank and in shock and covered in someone else’s blood when Ezra found you.

He’d stood, imposing and straight-backed, hand on hip while his head followed your shambling approach. Your adrenaline was waning, and you shuffled forth on trembling legs, hands held aloft in supplication. When you reached his clearing in the midst of dense vegetation you noted his mouth moving at light-speed, the hand on his hip twitching toward the thrower he had slung across his back. As you got even closer you noticed his eyes were wide. You were not on the same transmission channel so you could not hear him. Your hands gestured as if underwater, left hand tapping your transceiver while your right held up three trembling fingers. When Ezra understood he switched the channel and immediately his animated drawl was filling your helmet.

“.....cannot fathom how you are standing in my sights looking like you’ve been baptised by Lady Bathory herself, alone? Please do tell this lonely old prospector how in Kevva’s name above you’ve found yourself in such a state of affairs?”

You noticed immediately that he did not seem at all frightened or wary of your appearance, just confused, and….excited? You gazed up into the visor through a constellation of blood spatter and freed your tongue from its bone-dry cavern, swallowing thickly.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. He tried to, to…..he came after me.”

Ezra stepped forward in what seemed a conspiratory move. You froze. Taking note, he’d immediately stepped back, but his dark eyes fastened to yours with an intensity that made you feel as though he could see through you into your very essence, every shameful childhood memory, every flaw and triumph as readable as prose on paper.

“Intention rarely informs the realities of snuffing out the flame of mortality. Between intention and action there lay an endless array of variables, something I know as well as my own name. In all my time on the Green the one thing that continues to ring true is that people here take. If you have nothing to offer, they will find something to take.”

He straightened before continuing, “Given that you are appreciably female I can imagine what it is he believed himself entitled to. You have none of that to fear from me, little stranger. I am but one lost soul amongst this verdant hellscape.”

You were still processing the events of the past several hours, and it took you some time to accustom your ears to the man’s mellifluous cadence. The people in your previous company had been stilted, blunt, mostly monosyllabic. This man before you spoke as if convinced his words would alight and manifest whatever sacred force or unimagined color the universe deemed fit to spew forth. It was incongruous. You considered your next words carefully before you spoke.

“Do you have a dwelling? A tent? I hate to impose, but this is my only suit and I’d like to get as much blood out of it as I can.”

That was how you’d become acquainted with Ezra. You’d exchanged names as you walked to his tent, and all the while Ezra pontificated. The tent was modest, two cots arranged across from one another. Equipment stacked along one canvas wall, while texts and notebooks spread across a folding table toward the front entrance. Ezra explained where the water source was located as you both disconnected your helmets and stripped your suits. The blood splashed across yours had dried to a dull rust. Almost as if it could be something other than blood. Almost.

You’d set the suit to soak in cold water and truly noticed the man in front of you for the first time. He was tall and broad-shouldered, thick locks jutting chaotically from the dome of his head and curling around the lobes of his ears. A shock of blond colored the seam of his hairline. His brow was lined with years of tension and unrest. Wide, dark eyes below pronounced brows. A prominent aquiline nose. His mouth, still moving. Always moving, as if he were trying to get every thought he had out of his head before the hourglass ran out on him.

Your eyes were next drawn to a dirty bandage circling his arm. You’d been so lost in your head over the strange turn of events that you did not notice the barely perceptible wince as he inventoried what appeared to be dried ration packets.

“What happened? To your arm, I mean?”

Ezra sighed deeply before answering. “Merely a flesh wound from an errant thrower blast while my crew and I were in the midst of parting ways. It was a most unsavory affair, I’m afraid. I don’t believe the weasel wielding the staff even meant to shoot me.”

You stepped closer, eyeing the torn, worried cloth. “You have to be careful. The spores in the air will seep into everything, especially an open wound. Your bandage is filthy. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“You have experience with dressing wounds?”

“I’m a nurse.”

You were wholly unprepared for the brilliant smile that split his face. Suddenly you could see the younger, roguish man that he had undoubtedly once been. You were suddenly overwhelmed, you could not understand how the heart in your chest fluttered as desperately as a bird beating its wings against the cage of your ribs. You felt close to panic as you realized that you were reacting this way to a man you did not know.

Careful.

“Kevva above, I must have done something right in a past life as I’ve done nothing in this one to deserve such a fortuitous gift! A nurse! An angel of mercy, a dove of benevolence!”

You felt heat rush to your face, and you cursed your feeble emotions as you turned quickly away from him. Please, ignore my abject idiocy.

“Med kit?”

“Ah, of course. My apologies, Dove, I forget myself.”

You pointedly ignored the unprompted endearment as any further contemplation on this new development would lead to literal hysteria. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Ezra sat at the table near the entrance, sweeping the array of notebooks and papers to the side. You pulled up a crate once taking the med kit and unwrapped the soiled bandaging. You understood how awkward it had to be to dress a wound with one hand, and so you were able to forgive the haphazard application. He hissed and winced again as you revealed a very red, open and angry wound bed assaulting the meat of his right bicep. Black had begun to settle in around the ragged edges. It did not look good. Your gut sank as you noticed the purplish pucker of skin surrounding a crater that oozed and tunneled, purulent drainage saturating the underlying gauze.

The mold had done a spectacular job of decaying what would have normally been a straight forward traumatic thrower wound. You were shocked that Ezra was not screaming in pain.

You kept your face studiously blank as you set out supplies: a vial of Ancef, sterile saline, bandaging, gauze, antimicrobial foam, hydrogen peroxide, a basin, and the scalpel you’d kept clutched in your fist as you’d fled. There was an injectable narcotic preloaded, you offered this to Ezra and he shook his head, his eyes still and worried. He knew it was bad, and he was scared. A wave of melancholy slammed into you and without thinking, you reached out and laid your fingers gently on his wrist.

“Hey.” He met your eyes, and they were old. Ancient, and filled with what was akin to an existential weariness. You had to dig the toe of your boot into your calf to keep your eyes from filling with tears. You cleared your throat. It did not sound like a noise you’d make. You wondered who you were, really, before speaking.

“I’m going to do the best that I can. It won’t be pretty. Your wound is badly infected. The black bits are necrotic, and if I don’t debride your wound it will spread. I’m going to try my hardest to save your arm. This is going to hurt, so I really think you should take the injection.”

Ezra’s solemn gaze swung to fasten on yours. After a pause of internal debate, he simply nodded. You filled the basin with hydrogen peroxide and placed the scalpel in. You picked up the preloaded syringe and sterile gauze and quickly discharged the narcotic serum into Ezra’s left deltoid. His eyes soon took on a haze of detachment, pupils constricting to pinpoints.

You picked up the scalpel and got to work, and Ezra finally screamed.

He kept his arm impressively still while sweat cut rivulets down the planes of his face. His jaw clenched so tightly you feared his teeth would crack and splinter- you’d finally and wordlessly paused your work to place a length of spare leather strapping between his teeth, which he clamped onto like a feral dog.

You worked quickly and wordlessly, cutting ribbons of spoiled flesh from the blessedly granulating bed of tissue and muscle beneath. Your mind worked in circular prayer, asking forgiveness from the universe for killing, for hurting. Ezra’s flesh was a sacred scroll and you were inscribing your texts upon it, begging for deliverance. It was not lost on you that the same scalpel you’d used to snuff one life was carving death out of another.

When the deed was done, you reconstituted the Ancef and injected it into the meat of his buttock. You did it quickly, too wrung out and disturbed to feel impure. There was nothing prurient about what had just happened, nothing sexy in his agony. For all of its intimacy it was brutal and ugly and traumatic. At that moment you were inextricably bound to one another.

#Ezra Ezra Prospect

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