#vm fics

[angelsdean]

love watching a totally random show and immediately being jumpscared by an spn actor

[allthevmff]

We Provide... Leverage

by @happilyeveraftereveryday

Veronica is the mastermind of the best crew. Weevil Navarro's name alone does half of his hitting work for him, Mac is the undisputed queen of computers, & no one can beat Wallace's ability to pickpocket..

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Uh hi! So I know you usually do ship stuff, but I am desperate for some Isaac Henderson angst content. I’ve found a few here and there but most of them aren’t actually super angsty and a lot somehow feel more about the other characters even if they’re meant to be about Isaac. They’re good but nothings really scratched that itch so far. Could you write something using #12 from the angsty dialogue prompts? Or honestly if you’d rather not do that one, any one of the prompts would be great. I’ll leave it up to you what exactly it’s about and who the line is directed at, I just wanna see my fave go through it.

hello!! i'm sorry this took so long! i would like to clarify that i started it ages ago, but it was at less than 1000 words yesterday evening, and then it was finished at 2am last night. (i got so into it i'm currently in the mindset of "that's it, i'm going to try and post at least a fic a week now 😤", but we will see if that actually happens.) so, i hope if nothing else it's sufficiently angsty and not too ooc. you did give me quite a bit of freedom, and it remains unclear if that was a good choice or not 😅 anyway, enjoy!!

12. "Help me."

Post-prom, Isaac felt out of sorts. 

His situation with James and his odd encounter at Elle’s exhibition had been eye-opening, to say the least. Angela Chen’s Ace still resided on his nightstand, though he’d finished reading it two days after lifting it from the library. He couldn’t bring himself to return it just yet; he found himself going back to it at night, rereading sections over again as if they would tell him something new, feeling he was still missing something. And anyway, they were still on summer holidays. The school wouldn’t miss it for now. 

No one seemed to be missing him much, either.

It was becoming more noticeable, this summer break, how he was the odd one out. He’d been aware his friends were essentially coupled off for months now, and Paris had cemented it, but Paris had also kept them stuck together as a group. 

(Plus, most of the Paris trip had been before things had become royally awkward with James, but he was mostly avoiding thinking about all that.)

The situation with Darcy had understandably taken a bit of a priority in the past couple of weeks, but it didn’t explain the shift that had seemed to happen within all his friends since prom. Isaac had figured for a while that Elle would be leaving, and he assumed it was why she and Tao had been attached at the hip. He didn’t begrudge them it, really. He had watched them pine over each other long enough that leaving them this time together felt warranted. Besides, it wasn’t like they were asking Charlie to movie nights recently, either. 

But it also wasn’t likely Charlie was waiting to be asked, these days. He and Nick had seemingly re-entered their honeymoon phase, which was fair given that they finally could be as coupley as they wanted wherever and whenever they wanted. Isaac just found it odd that it seemed to be more since prom than Nick’s coming out, but he was not going to ask about that. It made sense he didn’t want to think about. The intense, somewhat dark cloud that seemed to still hang over Nick around Charlie was more worth questioning, but it was also part of what kept Isaac from encroaching on them recently. 

Everyone seemed to have something going on. His going-ons felt a little unworthy, in comparison. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling shit about himself because he didn’t want to put an extra burden on his friends and it was a bit sad he considered his feelings a burden, or if that was an excuse for not having to talk about it because he didn’t really know how and it was making him feel shit. 

So, yes. Out of sorts. 

Out of sorts and alone, most of the time. 

He was not in the habit of pitying himself, however, and he was not about to start now. So what if he was having some life-defining realisations about himself and he had no one to share them with? He’d coped with life mostly on his own so far and he’d continue to do so. 

And he was coping. Perfectly. 

Kind of. 

Sitting in one of his best friend’s houses, surrounded by their other friends and staring into a book was how he always coped, so this was perfectly normal. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t absorbing the words and everyone seemed louder than usual. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He was tired. That’s all he was feeling. 

Tara tugged at his foot from where she and Darcy were perched on the floor by his armchair. “Isaac, we're gonna play a boardgame. Put the book down and come join us!”

Isaac looked, but Tao and Elle were still wrapped up in each other in the corner and Nick and Charlie were nowhere in sight. He raised an eyebrow at Tara. “We are?”

“Yes! Nick and Charlie are away to get them right now, so come get comfy.”

Darcy snorted. “Good idea, because we could be waiting for a bit.”

Tara slugged her shoulder and Darcy only giggled again. 

“Shouldn't they have passed the honeymoon phase by now?” Isaac asked, lowering his book slightly but not yet closing it. 

“Nick and Charlie?” Tara grinned. “I'm not sure those two will ever come out of it.”

“Well, I can't say I don't understand,” Darcy quipped, leaning in to Tara with a grin. Tara turned towards her, and their smiles melded as they kissed.

Isaac snapped his book closed. “Actually, I think I'll go to the loo while we're waiting.”

No one gave any sign of hearing him, so Isaac slipped quietly out of the room and up to the bathroom. He rolled his eyes at the giggles coming from Charlie's room and didn't pause. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he finally released a sharp breath. He perched himself on the edge of the bath and pulled out his phone.

Instagram was a distraction he did not often indulge in. His follow count was small—only his friends and favourite authors alongside a small cluster of bookstagrammers he'd found to have good taste. He saved a couple of recommendation posts, then began clicking through stories, pausing when he reached James's. 

The story was almost timed out, all of it from last night, seemingly at a party. Isaac had stopped on a video where James appeared to be singing along to the song playing with another boy. In the middle of it, the boy had swooped forward to kiss James on the cheek. 

Isaac stared at James’s delighted expression and something complicated clenched in his chest. He quickly locked the phone and set it beside him, directing his focus to the wall. 

It was good, he rationalised. James was wonderful; he deserved to be going out and having fun, and he deserved, without question, to have a handsome boy having fun with him. Whether they were friends or something more didn't matter, but the something more definitely seemed possible, if not likely. And James deserved someone who could give him that. 

Isaac had not been able to give him that—did not want to give anyone that, could not derive any joy from it, even from the chance of it giving joy to someone else. 

He was not incapable of love. He knew that. When he looked at his family, when he looked at Charlie and Tao and Elle, he was always so full of love he felt he might explode from it. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't physical, but it was love, in its purest form it seemed, to him, given he did not want anything in return for it but their happiness and their continued place in his life. 

It was love, uncomplicated, unconditional love, and why wouldn't that be enough? 

He never seemed to be enough. 

He always did what he could to be a good son and a good friend, and he had never doubted it until recently. James had been one of those good friends. He still was, as far as Isaac was concerned, but their relationship had undeniably changed. Maybe it was simply in an awkward phase that would pass, but Isaac, at the moment, could not believe it would ever be the same. For a time, James had been something of his best friend—not because Isaac liked him more than Charlie or Tao or Elle, or because he really spent more time with him, but because James was Isaac’s friend in a way they were not. They spent time together, the two of them, and shared interests the two of them, and when they had been together they had not felt the need for any company outside of the two of them. 

But that had not meant the same to James as it had to Isaac, and Isaac could not give him anything more. He understood that his rejection would not be taken without consequence, but he hadn't been prepared to be, in a way, rejected in return. 

Was this all he would ever achieve? Having friends who would always be somewhat distant—who would always have someone closer, someone better—or having someone close who would eventually want that closeness in a way he did not. Before, he'd worried he was not worthy of that want to begin with. Never had he thought it would be his inability to return it that would be the issue. Could he be upset, that it was his not wanting to be too close that lost him all closeness as a result? 

He was alone on an island of his own making. He couldn't blame anyone for leaving him there if he wasn't going to invite them in, could he? 

Was this, then—alone in the bathroom of his best friend's house with his phone locked beside him and tears in his throat—all he was destined for? 

Isaac Island, party of one. 

A knock on the door startled him, and he swore quietly as he knocked his phone onto the tiles. As he picked it up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and blanched. There were no tears, but his eyes were red and his face was blotchy and the tears were waiting in his throat, they surely would be there if he went back downstairs to—

Another knock.

“One—one minute,” he tried, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. He quickly turned on the tap and ran his hands and wrists under the cool water, but it did nothing to steady his breathing. The thought of his aloneness had choked him, but the thought of returning into company strangled him. It was not his friends’ fault—he refused to make it his friends’ fault—but at the moment, he couldn't bear them all the same. 

He cupped more cold water in his hands and scrubbed it over his face, but it did not shock him out of the spiral of his thoughts. The third knock barely registered over the growing ringing in his ears. 

“Isaac?” Not Charlie, like Isaac had thought. Not Nick either, or Tara, or any of them. “Are you okay? I'd really like to use the loo.”

His island, he thought deliriously, was sinking; he was drowning, and still, he could do nothing but soak his hands under the tap and soak his face in turn and suck in breaths that did not hold enough oxygen. He was drowning, he was sinking, he could not see it but his body felt it and his lungs were going to seize, he was dying—

He cut the knocking off by throwing open the door and gasping, “Help me.”

Isaac had one second to appreciate Tori’s bewildered expression before it turned serious and she took to action. “Isaac? Hey. Look at me.” She set her hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around his middle, still heaving. “I'm assuming you didn't just get diagnosed with asthma,” Tori said, still impossibly calm—perhaps he was actually the sea, he thought, undefinable and raving, and she the island, unravagable. Isaac shook his head. “Alright. I think, then, this is likely a panic attack. Would it help if I get Charlie?”

Isaac shook his head more vigorously. 

To her credit, Tori only considered him for a few seconds, and didn't argue. She guided him back into the bathroom and gently kicked the door closed. “Sit,” she told him. He did, and she crouched in front of him. Immediately, with his knees pulled to his chest and the bath supporting his back, it was better. He was not so adrift. “You're alright. It will pass. I know it's stupid, but you really do just have to focus on breathing.”

She started counting. It was only when she'd repeated the numbers four times that he understood she was telling him how long to breathe in and out for. Then he tried to follow it, and slowly, air felt like it was moving through him regularly again. 

Isaac wiped at his cheek. To his embarrassment, his fingers came away damp. He didn't look at Tori, but he said, “Thank you.” Then, “Sorry.”

She didn't brush off his apology, or tell him to get out now so she could actually use the loo—both of which would have been fair and not unexpected responses. Instead, she turned and sat next to him. She leaned against the bath to his left, a few inches between their shoulders, and stared at the wall quietly with him. 

When his skin stopped vibrating, he tucked his arms around his middle again and breathed out. “How did you know what to do?” he asked. 

She glanced at him and shrugged. “I didn't, really.”

It was all she offered, but it seemed honest. Isaac decided not to push. He was too grateful to care much. 

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?” she asked, softly. 

Isaac looked over at her. She was looking back, unsmiling but not unhappy. She reminded him a lot of Charlie, Isaac had always thought. They seemed similar in ways they likely weren't even aware of. It was both comforting and unnerving. “Do you really want me to?”

Tori shrugged again. “I'd prefer it if you told Charlie or your other friends, because I think that would be more helpful. But I don't think you want to. So you can tell me, if you need to tell someone.”

That was—exactly what Isaac needed, really. He didn't exactly think it should be Tori. They'd known each other a while, and they liked each other well enough, but they weren't friends. Plus, Isaac knew she and Charlie were actually close; it felt weird and unfair to tell her something and then ask her to keep it from him. 

But in this moment, he could not think of a better option, and the mere thought of getting the weight off his chest was a relief. 

“I think I'm going to end up alone,” he said, blunt and ridiculous. Tori, completely fairly, raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Not because I think I'm unlovable or something like that.” Although that was part of it. “But because—” Could he say the actual words? “—I think I'm asexual, and aromantic, so I don't think I'll ever love love anyone, and I think that means I'll always be a bit alone.”

He could. 

It still seemed sad and pathetic when he said it out loud, maybe even more so, but the act of it—the unretractable reality of it—settled something in him. 

Tori's expression, a little confused but free of judgement, only added to that feeling. “So, you don't feel romantic or sexual attraction,” she said slowly. “At all. Is that what you mean?”

Isaac was vaguely impressed. He nodded. 

“When did you figure this out?”

Isaac took a long, heavy breath. “I think, properly, I started to figure it out in Paris, when I realised this guy liked me and I was trying to figure out if I liked him back? But I think I'd been starting to realise it long before then. I just…hadn't known what to call it, or what it meant.”

Tori, he noticed gratefully, took time to process this before nodding. “And now?”

Isaac blinked. “Now?”

“What do you think it means now?”

Oh. Isaac hadn't expected the question, and he found himself unsure of how to answer. “I think it means I'm always going to be lonely.”

Tori tilted her head. “But you didn't think that before.”

“What?”

“You said you don't think you're unlovable. And I agree. I think Charlie loves you a lot. I think most people would, because you are a very nice person. You didn't think of that as less important because it wasn't romantic before. What changed?”

Changed? Nothing. Everything. They were growing up, and love had more meanings when you grew up, and some of those meanings became less important. He looked at the wall again. “They have other people they love more,” he said softly. 

“And you won't ever have that,” Tori returned, equally soft. Not a barb, not a rebuke, nothing negative at all. Just realising; working through it alongside him. “So you think you won't ever be the most important person to someone.”

Isaac swallowed, unable to answer. Not because he didn't know the answer—because it was yes, it was true, she was right, of course she was—but because it was impossible to admit. 

“I think that's the case for most people,” Tori said, at once blunt and thoughtful. Isaac looked back at her, awaiting an explanation. “Think about it. Even the most in love people usually have children, and then their children are the most important people, or at least equally important. And if they have more than one child, no one of them is the most important, and neither of the parents are the most important to the other. I think, instead of having one supremely important person, most people have a group of important people in their life.”

She looked over at him and continued. “There probably are different levels and different kinds of importance, but I don't think that necessarily means one is worth less than the other.”

Isaac sat, for a moment, and absorbed that. Could it be true? He thought of his family. He was lucky, in that scenario. His parents were kind, were wonderful, and he knew without question that they loved him, and he loved them. Neither one of them, he realised, was more important to him than the other. He had different relationships with them both, but each of their losses would leave an equally sized hole in his heart. 

He knew that probably wasn't the same for most people, but if he could find that one example in his own life so easily, he couldn't deny it was possible in others. 

“I suppose,” Isaac said. “I think I know what you mean. I don't think it's the same, but—I know what you mean.”

Tori did smile, now. A barely there thing, but warm and kind, all the same. “It probably isn't the same. I know me saying I love my brothers equally and neither of them are less important doesn't mean anything for your friends treating you the same as their partners, or even other friends. But I think—every relationship is as important as you make it. And sometimes, people might not know they aren't making it important, if they don't know what's important about it to you.”

“Has important stopped sounding like a real word to you, too?” Isaac asked. 

“About six ‘important’s ago,” Tori agreed. 

Isaac laughed, and his relief grew. Tori's smile also grew, just a tick. 

“You're saying I should just talk to my friends,” Isaac noted, eventually, and Tori's smile grew wry. 

“I did say that at the very beginning, yes.” Isaac laughed again, and she shook her head. “But I am saying you should explain to them. I can't promise you're wrong, or tell you everything will be fine,” she said truthfully. “But I don't think you can assume people can't give you what you need, if you don't tell them what that is and let them try.”

Isaac’s chest tightened again, but it was different to the breathless feeling from before. Instead of hopelessness, it was an anticipatory sort of buzz. There was a sureness that hadn't been there before. 

There was a clatter from outside, and this time it was Charlie's voice that called out. “Isaac! Are you still up here? We have the game set up.”

Isaac looked from the door back to Tori. She gave him another smile and nodded. “Go on. I have really needed to pee for about ten minutes now.”

Isaac laughed, again, and got to his feet. Tori passed his phone up to him, and he thanked her once more. He knew she could tell he meant for everything, and she wouldn't appreciate him making more of it, so he took his leave without another word, leaving her to pee in peace. 

Charlie was hovering at the top of the stairs. His face broke into a smile at Isaac’s appearance. “There you are. You've been up here ages.” His smile drooped slightly as Isaac came closer. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Isaac nodded. “Sorry, I got caught talking to Tori.”

“In the bathroom?” Charlie huffed, bewildered but amused. For a moment Isaac pictured Tori's expression when he'd opened the door to her, and he smiled. 

He only hesitated for a second before saying, “I wanted to talk to all of you about something, actually.”

Immediately, Charlie's expression softened. “Yeah?” When Isaac nodded, Charlie smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him towards the staircase. “Come on, then. The game can wait.”

[keyleth-clay]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Venture Maidens (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kara Brynehilde/Gidget Glitch Characters: Kara Brynehilde, Gidget Glitch Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, (up to the end of campaign 1), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, (and by that I mean the legacy games aren't real and can't hurt me), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Fix-It Series: Part 2 of We Ripped Up the Pages and Wrote Our Own Ending Summary:

Two months. Two fucking months since the gods fell, and it still felt like absolutely no progress had been made.

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

Heyyyyyy, my post-canon Kara/Gidget fix-it is (finally) done! The biggest of shout-outs and internet hugs to @sketchy-fey for being an awesome cheerleader for the final stretch of writing 💚💗.

[blorbologist]

I rewatched s1 of vox machina again and at the feast where they meet the briarwoods are Percy and Vex wearing matching necklaces? Any headcanon behind why only Those two would wear something matching?

Hi anon!

For anyone who hasn't memorized their Feast costumes unlike me, this is what they're referring to:

They're even in inverted colors - Percy's gold star with the black chain [?], while Vex's is black with the gold chain.

It's been frequently headcanoned that those matching stars are (on a Doyalist level) nods the stars of Whitestone, as seen on the city's sigil:

Those stars represent the past champions of the Dawnfather, one of Whitestone's patron gods ;3

From a Watsonian perspective, my personal guess is that when preparing for the feast, Vox Machina were probably herded by Percy to one or two stores with clothing up to his standards, and thus they probably each got their accent pieces from the same shop.

I like the idea of Percy, with his dream from the night before still fresh on his mind, gravitating towards the star jewelry. Wanting to carry a piece of Whitestone with him to this return to nobility. And Vex loving the look and plucking a similar necklace for herself, potentially gently prying for information or making a comment about looking good on his arm if they match. Maybe Percy clears his throat, makes a cryptic excuse for his choice, but takes comfort in the support Vex is showing - even if she doesn't know what it means to him.

[cadykeus-clay]

whooooooooo wants a vox machina dalen’s-closet-to-post-campaign time skipping poymachina (specifically half elves + percy) fic that’s kinda sad but mostly a comedy that i’ve been writing for my friend for . oops. 5 years ?

[xjustakay]

and if i write another hockey james/figure skater regulus microfic in the interim between the full fic happening what then

[exhaustedwerewolf]

one thing that is continually bugging me about tlovm (taking into account I love it very much and it is a near perfect adaptation) is the lack of percy&keyleth. their closeness and love for each other is so incredibly important to me as I have said extensively many times but I also think it makes scanlan’s isolation hit way harder, because he kind of is the seventh wheel? vex and vax are best friends. percy and keyleth are best friends. grog and pike are best friends. scanlan kind of falls into their trio but he didn’t grow up with them. he doesn’t have their history. if any one of them was picking someone to buddy up with he would get picked last.

[stupidsexpotflanders]

VM Franchise:Amateurs and professionals upside down

Fics on AO3 making Logan Echolls a good guy:he becomes a philanthropist in ways that showcase character development(getting into a position of power and prestige and using it to help the same kind of poor people he screwed up in his youth and/or using it to fight the corrupt elite) or that faced the same struggles as his(abused kids). Besides,he gets to make genuine connections - including people with good moral compasses - and making efforts into not being the same old jackass and is a much healthier person overall.

Canon VM making Logan Echolls a good guy:hE's iN the ArMeD fOrCeS bEcAuSe iT sTaNdS a ChAnCe To HeLp PeOpLe(but there are no hard calls,much less a corrupt elite using it to get even more money and power) aNd rIdEs a bYcYcLe(never mind that all kinds of pollution are much more complex problems than that). To the writers' credit,tho,Logan is shown as struggling with trauma and mental health. But he doesn't grapple with the ethics of whatever he's doing.

Even that could be interesting,tho. The contrasts between Logan's being nicer and healthier but still morally apathetic and ruthless,and between Veronica's leaving a clean but morally bankrupt lawyering firm to dig up the dirt in Neptune "accepting the mud and the tendency [she] has the tendency to find [herself] rolling in it" while Logan gets to be on an ultra-dangerous version of said lawyering job and not giving a shit about/learning to ignore the unsavory bits about his service(bonus points if he bonds and takes care of his fellow officers and subordinates in the battlefield but still is morally apathetic about everything else). That would've been a more believable source of conflict between Logan and Veronica in s4 without butchering either character,IMO. Alternatively,he has a similar arc to Veronica's - using the Navy to run away from the clusterfuck that's Neptune(bonus points if he imagines the armed forces as flawless because of his veteran grandpa),finds out the Navy has a very rotten side and becomes disillusioned with the whole thing. However,unlike Veronica,Logan fights the corruption on the inside. Perhaps,there's even a spin-off focusing on Logan Echolls fighting corruption in the Navy AND honouring the good people inside it,not to mention it's importance and grey areas.

[kiaraalazulu]

Your opinion on Stryfewood, please :3

they make me feral but tbh I didn't ship them until I started trying to draw fanart and discovered I suck at drawing Vash so I just drew Meryl and Wolfwood together over and over until I realised how hot and how interesting their dynamics are

[duchesschameleon]

you know who i am. you know what i want. i want vox machina. vex/percy.

please. i beg. my palms are open <3

you ask, I deliver

pairing: vex/percy, from Vox Machina (critical role campaign 1)

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, chants the voice in her head. Percy is here, alive, and Vex is so happy her heart could burst. She knows she needs to repeat her words from the ritual to him, needs to make sure he hears them, consciously this time, so he knows how important he is to her. That he has a reason to live, to stay alive, and not be so reckless with himself. She has to make sure that Percival Frederickstein von Mussel Klossowski de Rolo III knows that she, Vex’ahlia, loves him with everything in her.

send me five sentence fic prompts!

[allthevmff]

The Facts Were These…

by @petpluto

Logan can wake the dead. He hates it.

cover art would not have been possible without @troublescout. Thank you friend!

[astrid-beck]

The world is so beautiful I went into ao3 to see what the fandom response to episode 140 was like and it's a lot of what you'd expect (shadowgast, widomauk, mollymauk stuff, resurrection stuff) but also a lone vax/pike cock cage porn fic to remind you that the world is large and life goes on

[keyleth-clay]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Venture Maidens (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rem/Isolde Tristane Characters: Rem (The Venture Maidens), Isolde Tristane Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Campaign 1 (The Venture Maidens), Fix-It of Sorts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, does it count as getting back together if they never technically broke up in the first place?, Bittersweet Series: Part 1 of We Ripped Up the Pages and Wrote Our Own Ending Summary:

Almost exactly two hours after the gods fell, Rem found her.

[needle-noggins]

It makes me sad to know that my fic doesn’t get as much traction as many others simply because it’s not Vashwood