#satisfied with the knowledge that vox will never step to him again

[masterqwertster]

Have you ever done an AU of what if the starting pairs were different? Like if Laudna found FCG instead somehow, or Chet had been in EXU crew with Orym?

I've seen a brief fic where Fearne and Ashton were a starting pair (because Fearne pulled him out of Hexum's courtyard and Ashton ended up with flower filled cracks instead of gold), so FCG got thrown in with Orym and Dorian (it just went to initial Bells Hells meetup), but I can't say I've given that sort of thing much thought myself before (besides the slight Ruby Hells AU reorganization), so...

Partner Swap AU

Bells Hells starting mini-groups are organized differently.

Ashton & Dorian

That time Dorian got his purse stolen in Jrusar? It was Ashton. There was absolutely no fucking way that fancy-pants blue boy couldn't afford to lose his coin

Except the next day, they see him performing on the street as a simple bard, and when they pass by again later, Ashton sees some thugs trying to take everything the guy's got because they're not satisfied with Dorian's earnings for the day

Feeling kind of bad that he put Dorian in that situation, Ashton steps in, kicks ass (with some help because Dorian is not completely helpless, just a bit clueless), and somehow ends up taking the other genasi under his wing

Look, the blue boy is just so clueless and anxiety ridden that the suppressed sibling instincts kick in

And Dorian is so lost in this big, strange world outside the Silken Squall that another genasi, even a surly earth one, is a comfort (even if Ashton is an asshole and a criminal. Please stop involving me in your crimes. Please. Never!)

Orym & FCG & Laudna

Dancer, FCG, and the Division of Public Benefit manage to adventure their way out of Marquet, and instead set off FCG's murder-mode somewhere in Tal'Dorei

Laudna just sort of stumbles upon the scene by accident, but FCG is conscious and greets her. They talk, becoming fast little friends, and Laudna takes them with her (which isn't easy because FCG is probably a little heavier than her and their wheel is bent out of shape)

With some collaborative work between Laudna's fixer-upper skills and FCG's basic knowledge of automata (and a little bit of input from Delilah on advanced arcana) they get him back in working order

Laudna and FCG become part of the Crown Keepers alongside Orym (Laudna gives Opal advice on making goo work)

Laudna may not have put together Keyleth being part of Vox Machina by the time her, Orym, and FCG bounce through Zephrah for marching orders to Marquet

Fearne & Chetney

Fuzzy be(a)sties!

Morri gave Fearne a little more direction than just shoving her through Artagan's Gate, instead directing her to head to Marquet to find her parents

Somehow, Fearne and Chetney end up on the same ship to Marquet (maybe Artagan's Gate wasn't the fey rift Fearne was sent through? or a layover in Tal'Dorei for a ship from Wildemount to Marquet)

Anyways, the two chaos gremlins make eyes at each other, possibly some pickpocketing (at least by Fearne to Chet, not sure if he steals back), and decide to keep going together since Marquet is a big place and Fearne doesn't actually know where her parents are to be found beyond that

Imogen

Finally got sick of Gelvaan and decided to hop a caravan (circus?) out of town. At least strangers won't look at her funny until she actually does or says something

Heard about the Starpoint Conservatory in Jrusar and decided looking for research/answers to her powers was as good an idea as any

Runs into the same lack of clout problem to gain access, and ends up running with the Hells to get Lord Eshteross's patronage

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

water rippling

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, please let me know what you think! 

Summary: could you do a young losers x reader where the reader can’t swim but richie convinced her to come w them to the quarry bc he’ll teach her. but while he is pennywise comes underwater and tries to drown her so they have to save her

warnings: this whole chapter is basically about drowning and the fear of it so please don’t read it if that triggers you. 

‘I’m not getting in.’

‘If you don’t get in than I can’t teach you anything either. Fuck, just get in already.’

‘I told you I didn’t want to go swimming Richie, this is all your stupid idea so at the very least be fucking patient with me’, you bite as you dip in foot into the water, then lift it up higher again so the water can’t reach you. The scowl on your face deepens.

You never understood why people swim as a hobby. You’d get why everyone has to learn how to swim - even if you didn’t and never learned-, but actually enjoying swimming? No, those people must be out of their minds.

Richie laughs, mocking you, but all in good fun. ‘Start with one step. Just until the water reaches your ancles. You can’t drown from that Y/N.’

‘I could trip and drown.’

‘Literally how? I’m right here, the losers are further up keeping an eye on us, and all you would have to do is stand up. It’s not deep here.’

You sigh, but know that ultimately, Richie has a point.

Most people don’t automatically back away from water as soon as they catch a glimpse of it, but people hadn’t had a trauma related to it either.

Swimming always reminds you of the day you nearly drowned. It was on vacation, in the same resort your parents took you every year, and then left you in the Mini club while they went off and had a relaxing day. The animators who were supposed to be watching you, spoke a language you, at that time, hadn’t been able to disaffirm, and that’s where an almost deadly mistake was made.

The leaders lured you away from the club house, and you, like every other little kid present, followed them along unfearingly. They were older, and you trusted that they would keep you safe. Until one of them picked you up near a pool, and threw you in without any warning.

At the time, you hadn’t been able to swim by yourself without help, and so the second your feet left solid ground, you panicked. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you tried to wave your arms for help, none of the animators were glancing your way.

You can’t figure out how you somehow managed to reach the edge of the pool, but you did, only to get thrown right back in after by the animator, who thought you were having the time of your live.

Of course, you didn’t blame them. It’s not like you could tell them you couldn’t swim, so they had no way of knowing that, but it still scared the life out of you. For the rest of the trip, and after, you refused to go anywhere near the water. Not even your parents trying to persuade you with promises of ice cream and candy if you were brave, made you take another change in the thing that nearly killed you.

You never tried to swim again, and that meant you had no knowledge of how to do it. It was embarrassing, to decline going to swim during P.E and being forced to explain why. Your peers often ridiculed you for it, and it made you feel like a losers for being such a coward.

 But, cowardness is easy, especially when compared to facing your fears, and you never tried to learn how to swim, even after all the mockery. Only your new best friends hang out in the quarry all the time now, and you’re sick of being the one who has to watch from the shore as the others have fun.

Nothing bad has occurred to them in the water, -you’ve seen them go in about six times in three weeks now, and no one has come close to trouble - and Eddie, who is the most cautious person you’ve ever met, told you that statistically, there’s very little chance of you drowning. At your wits end, the only person you can think of asking for help, is Richie.

Richie might be an add choice, but he’s the only one who wouldn’t turn the lessons entirely boring and practical, like the others might. Richie jokes around a lot, brings humor into any situation, and you need that. You can’t get in your hard about the rippling water, or you’ll back out again.

‘Fine, I’ll go in, I’ll even sit down, but if I freak out and want to get out you’ll let me okay?’

‘Yeah I’m not gonna force you to stay. I’m not Eddie’s mom.’

Maybe you’ll be embarrassed by the motion later, but in the moment, you reach for Richie’s wrist, just to have some sort of support. Richie doesn’t mention it, just careful takes the same steps you do and lets you pick the pace at which you’re going.

It goes slow, but not at any point does Richie try to speed the process along. He does drop down in the water, on his ass, choosing a spot that just covers both of your torsos but is close to the shore.

You copy his every move, breathe deeply when you feel the water ripple around you and adjust to the new intrusion, until your closely packed to Richie’s side, in the water.

It takes a second to set in, that you’re sitting in the water and nothing is happening, but then you let out a breath of disbelief.

‘See, told you you could fucking do it. Repeat after me, you’re a woman who don’t need no man.’

‘You’ve been watching to many soap operas rich’, you tell him when you feel like you’re not on the verge of panicking anymore.

Inside the water, something pokes your leg, but you try to ignore it. You focus on breathing through the initial panic, remembering that nothing bad had happened to the losers despite being in the lake for a long time, and that pretty much ensures nothing would happen to you either.

‘Oh gross’, you utter as your try to force the slimy thing away from your feet. ‘You didn’t tell me there would be fish in here.’

Richie snorts, rolling his eyes as he grabs a handful of water and aims it at your face. He misses -Richie’s aim is always horrible whether you’re playing dodgeball or he’s trying to pass something on-, but he doesn’t care.

‘This is your fear Y/N/N, don’t try to scare me now. Besides, I’m not afraid of fish, Eddie’s mom vagina’s smells like a few died down there.’

You can’t focus on how disgustingly distasteful that joke is, because all you concentrate on is the slimy sensation, slowly sliding up your leg higher and higher.

‘Richie’, you beg, your voice reduced to that of a scared toddler. ‘Then what the fuck is touching me right now?’

A louder, slightly strained chuckle is produced by Richie, like he too is getting worried but is trying hard to convince himself everything is alright.

‘Stop fucking with me Y/N.’

Richie pushes the boundaries a lot, keeps going until somebody gets really annoyed and about ready to shut him up for a longer time, but the sincerity in his vox is so present that you’re instantly convinced he’s not messing around now.

‘I’m not fucking with you’, you raise your voice to a shrilled scream, so loud that the other losers, engaged in a game of chicken in the middle of quarry, also become aware of the situation. ‘Something is down there.’

It’s too late for them to help. The slimy blob, muddled by the water but visually a hand, tightens around your ancle, and snatches, hard.

Richie’s scrawny arms can’t resist against the strong haul, but he tries to hold on for as long as possible. His nails dig into your flesh, and the more you get pulled inside the water, the more marks his nails dig as you slide forward.

You shriek, arms flailing around now that the water is still too shallow for you to not be able to touch the bottom.

Plunges of water drip onto your face, both from your doing and Richie’s, and the others are advancing rapidly to come too your aid. Unfortunately nothing else can be done. Richie has no other options but to let you go, and the hand drags you to the middle of the lake.

Once you’re far enough away that you can’t touch the bottom with your feet anymore, the hand lets go, and you’re left to flounder on your own. Your legs slap around, trying with all your might to stay afloat and give the losers an opportunity to save you. A haunting chuckle breezes over the shell of your ear, and then the hand returns, satisfied with watching you struggle and panic for a while, but now ready to increase the terror.

You get one more chance to scream and suck in a handful of fresh air, and then your sinking down, under the surface.

The water douses your ears, muffles your ability to hear and see, and suffocates you with her insistence. You open your mouth, but it can’t produce a scream anymore, and you realize that you are completely as utterly doomed.

The hand has yet to free you, and it continues to pull you down. With each second that ticks by the fire in your chest spreads, and is unable to be ignored. After barely a few seconds, your movements turn sluggish, and you stop fighting against the hand. It’s at that time that it finally loosens his hold, but the fire has dilated up so much you can’t focus on anything other than the pain. Without ever learning how to swim, you wouldn’t be able to make it to shore anyway.

You read somewhere once that as soon as you swallow in water and it fills your lungs, you’ll die, and the pain will stop.

Your life plan hadn’t included dying this young in your life, but if you must go, you’d rather have it be quick. Losing the strength to hold out any longer, you open your mouth, and feel two separate pair of hands unclasps around your arms. The anxiety inside of you spikes, but you lack the energy to struggle against the grip, so you allow yourself to be guided. It’s not until your head breaks up from the water, and o2 greets you in plenty, that you see that the hands have brought you back up, instead of down.

You gasp, coughing up water, feeling as any minute you could pass out on the spot.

‘Jesus Y/N, stop struggling. We’re going to get you out.’

The two pairs of hands that saved you from drowning turn out to be Mike and Bill, and the float with you to the side of quarry where Eddie is gearing up to perform cpr if needed. If you had some breath back in your body, you would laugh at the sight.

Bev and Richie help drag you onto the dry rocks, away from the water, but still too close for your liking.

‘Get away’, you retches, crawling back in your arms. Eddie, who has been checking you over, tuts, but you don’t let it stop you.

‘It grabbed me. It fucking grabbed me. Get away from the water.’ You think you begin to cry, out of relief and alarm, but you can’t disentangle the water with your fluid.

‘There was nothing out there Y/N’, Ben tries to sooth, approaching you like a frightened animal. Eddie is less cautious, and stamps towards your with a frown on his face. He turns you on your side, his instruction not too brazen but still firm.

‘There was though guys. I swear on Eddie’s mom that something pulled her away.’

‘I saw it too,’ Eddie conforms, not looking away from your body, checking for any permanent damage.

‘Guys,’ Bev interject with a head shake. Her eyes gesture to you, shivering with wet clothes and crying hysterically. ‘Not now.’

‘Yeah. We’ll t-t-talk about it l-l-later.’

It’s Bev that gently ushers Eddie’s prodding hands away, as she opens her arms and awaits to see you reaction. You, once you pick up on what’s happening, accept gratefully, your tears subsiding only slightly once your wrapped up. The others join the cuddle pile soon enough, until there’s a shield of people protecting you and obstructing your view of the water.

‘Promise me we won’t ever go in there again. Not any of you. Please,’ you beg, afraid not solely for your life but for theirs as well.

‘Okay, okay Y/N. We promise.’

[dancerwrites]

Familiar Faces

Day 2 (yes, I know it’s late) of CritRole RS week is complete, with Shaun Gilmore & Lady Kima of Vord, who ended up being an interesting challenge to write for. Hope you enjoy!

(Set after Episode 45 - “Those Who Walk Away”)

Summary:  Something about this Gilmore fellow reminds Kima of Allura. It's strangely comforting. Words: 1.2k [AO3]

Kima slammed her warhammer into the side of a wooden training dummy, the thud of the metal and the splintering of wood doing little to chase away the worry and fear that was eating away at her chest. She had been in Whitestone for only a short while, and while Keyleth had scryed on Allura and said she appeared to be safe, there was a consistent nagging doubt that was only fueled by the knowledge that things could change at any moment.

Dragons were fucking terrifying, Kima had learned. Especially ancient red ones. And though she knew Allura and Drake were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, she couldn't help appealing to Bahamut with each strike she landed on the effigy before her.

“Let them- return-” she muttered, taking a breath before landing another series of blows on the dummy. “And give me- your strength- to protect them.”

She'd already lost enough friends to dragon fire.

Kima stepped back, breathing heavily but not winded, wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow. For all the shit she gave Vord about early morning training sessions, they really did help her stamina.

However, about to start another volley of blows, Kima saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and she whipped around, hammer raised in preparation.

She came face-to-face with a wide-eyed Shaun Gilmore, who seemed to have just lowered himself onto the bench on one side of the training field. She'd actually never met the man in person, but how many other people in Tal’dorei were of Marquesian heritage, had flowing purple robes, and a distinct air of magic about them?

(She could only determine the latter from spending as much time as she had around Allura, and it conjured up a strong sense of nostalgia for when they travelled together, all those years ago.)

The man looked resplendent as one could when they were involved in a dragon attack less than a week prior, which, Kima thought, was pretty damn good. Granted, for anyone besides one Shaun Gilmore, their presence would not have been quite as refined. She’d only ever heard tales of the man from Allura and Vox Machina, but if he was managing to look so well less than a week after dragons rained fire, acid, and ice on his city, then most, if not all, of their stories seemed to hold some true weight.

“Lady Kima, I presume,” Gilmore said, inclining his head slightly, the movement ginger in its execution, but still elegant. “A pleasure.”

Kima realized she had been staring, and bowed her own head in greeting, thinking she shouldn’t be surprised the man knew her name. Vox Machina could never keep their mouths shut. “You’ve got that right.”

She transferred the hammer to her other hand and hefted it onto her shoulder, a clang of metal on metal ringing through the yard. “And you’re Shaun Gilmore, archanist extraordinaire.”

Gilmore chuckled, one hand jumping to his ribs, but he smiled again. “Good to know my reputation precedes me.”

“Likewise,” Kima said, cocking an eyebrow. “Though it seems hard for it not to, with such excellent advertisers.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his eyes lighting up warmly, the corners of his lips pulling a bit more at his mouth.

“Vox Machina mentioned your glorious goods in the Underdark once or twice,” Kima said, thinking back to those days underneath Kraghammer. They blurred together, what with the lack of sun, but a few things stuck out in her memories. “Granted, they always seem to bring up your wares in the middle of battle, while fighting the darkest of beasts.”

“That sounds like them,” Gilmore said, laughing out loud again, though it looked it pained him to do so, as he winced, a hand rising to his ribs.

Kima understood.  

“When you get your shop back up and running I’ll have to stop by sometime,” Kima said, shifting her weight to one side and cocking her hip. “Vasselheim isn’t really the city for fanciful magical wares, but Allura says you’ve always got interesting trinkets in stock.”

“I aim to please,” Gilmore said with a nod, just barely covering another wince.

“So, what brings you down to the training grounds today?” Kima asked, swinging her hammer to the ground so she could lean against it. The man looked like he could collapse at any moment and Kima knew, having been in her own fights against dragons, that they left you beat up for a long while. “The new militia had their first practice session a couple hours ago and something tells me you’re not here to attack dummies or go over sword forms.”

“I’m simply getting out of the castle getting some fresh air,” Gilmore said, glancing over his shoulder at the tall white form on the hill behind him. “Thought I might see a bit of Whitestone while I’m here.”

Kima narrowed her eyes.

“The training grounds isn’t exactly a tourist site-”

“For now?” Gilmore interrupted, his lips pursing, “It’s enough.”

Kima debated whether the issue was worth pursuing, but she noted the quick rise and fall of his shoulders, his quick breathing and the paleness she hadn't seen at first glance due to his dark skin, and she thought better of it.

“Anyway,” he continued, stretching out his legs, “don't let me keep you from your training.”

“I was nearly finished,” Kima said truthfully, looking back at the dummy, its side smashed in and a good chunk of its leg lying on the ground. “But I'll walk up to the castle with you after I'm finished.”

“I would appreciate the company,” Gilmore said, a small grin returning to his face.

Kima nodded, and returned to the wooden figure, which would probably need to be replaced. Steadying herself, she tried not to think about the fact she was being observed and took a few more minutes to deal blows to the dummy, circling around it as needed. She finished a final series of attacks with a high swipe and took off the dummy's head, which had already been disfigured by an earlier strike.

It landed on the ground with a soft thump, and Kima nodded, the knot in her chest a bit looser than it had been.

“It looks satisfying,” Gilmore noted as she came over, grabbing a drink from her waterskin and leaning her hammer against the bench he sat on.

“It is,” Kima said, eyeing the man in front of her critically. “Have you never sparred with a weapon before?”

“Oh gods no,” Gilmore laughed. “I learned some basic self-defense, but I've never formally trained.”

Kima thought of Allura, of how she had hesitated to take a dagger Kima had offered her on their third day after they'd met so long ago. She remembered scoffing at the arcanist, then discounting all of her previous assumptions once she'd seen the woman in combat for the first time. Allie could hold her own.

The thought lifted her spirits.

“Magic is enough for you?” she guessed, tucking away her waterskin and the rest of her belongings.

“Always has been,” Gilmore said, pushing himself to the edge of the bench and rising gingerly. “It's gotten me through plenty.”

“Then I'm sure it'll get you through plenty more,” Kima said with a nod, waiting easily for his slow and careful steps to reach her side. “Well met, Shaun Gilmore.”

She held out her hand and he shook it, and they started back to the castle.

(And if Gilmore had noticed the small rush of divine healing energy Kima had given him, keeping his legs from shaking and making his breathing easier, he didn't say anything to her about it.)