#Pike Tyke

[mothxart]

The critterrrrs

[exgirlfiend]

this is old art but I don’t think I ever posted it. warmup page I did using a random number generator to give me familiars

[demigoddessqueens]

OH! I got one, it's with Vox Machina + Cassandra and Archie. "honey, I'm home!" Prompt combined with "Look what I found, can we keep it?"

Where the S/O comes back home with a stray, feral child. And being completely unfazed at the fact that the feral child is attempting to escape by trying to bite their arm off.

🤣🤣🤣 just another day for everyone

Vex’ahlia - very hesitant and wary at first, but can’t help but feel sorry for said kid as well

Pike - this is a lot to take in all at once!! But if this kid needs guidance and protection, so be it!!

Vax’ildan - he admired you for your kind heart, but this kid seems like they would be a lot. He swears he has the patience

Grog - absolutely! Completely onboard! “First, we will name them and then they get their own axe!”

Scanlan - oh he’s putting his foot down, completely against this, until says child gives him a tight hug and then he’s like “oh ok, they’re not so bad”

Cassandra - bit of a similar reaction to Percy’s, but if Whitestone has the best staff and nurses on hand, this kid has a new home!

Percy - if his hair could get more white, it would. He admires your kind heart but dearest, please, he can only take so much at one time

Keyleth - this kid is a handful, no lie!! But frazzled at almost at her wit’s end but luckily she has you to help out (when you can)

Archie - surprised but not completely unfazed. Poor little tyke probably lost their family in the rebellion, but since that’s over maybe starting a new life is a new chapter

[fictitious-little-stitious]

Breeze

Read on AO3

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x GN!Reader

Summary: Reader takes in the sight of Jack with their child while they’re all hanging out with friends.

Word Count: ~430

Rating: G

Warnings: Toddlers, fluff, parenthood

A/N: I came up with the ideas and arbitrarily wrote with Marcus Pike. But I was just about to post this when I thought, “Wait - wait a minute! What if… this was Frankie. Or Whiskey!?” So I had to debate who needed these 400 odd words of Dad Mode fluff the most. Anyway this is some easy going, gentle, summertime fluff 🥰 ☀️Thank you @hnt-escape for the support and beta reading! 💙

~≈~≈~

The shade of the trees and the heat persuade you to sink into the lawn chair. A once cold drink in your hand is half empty. One of your friends offers you another, much colder, and you gladly accept. Today was a long time coming, a day that has your cheeks and sides hurting for all the laughter. Any warmth you feel is just as much from good company as it is from sunshine.

A breeze that’s just a few degrees too warm to be refreshing carries a rambling conversation to you. You turn your head to the side to see Jack’s profile. In his arm is your son, tuckered out from taking in all the sights and sounds of the day. The little one managed to lose and find his water shoes twice. His other finds consisted of a popsicle stick, a handful of dirt, a broken frisbee, and several “lady bugs”. Most of them were actually grasshoppers and ants, but every bug was a lady bug these days. Your mini entomologist’s cheek is now smooshed against his dad’s shoulder where he’s held upright by a capable arm. He’s dragging out his fight against sleep for as long as he can.

Without warning, he slumps across Jack’s chest to lay belly down across the left arm which has reflexively risen to brace him. His sun hat flops to the grass below. He shifts to rest his cheek on top of the crook of Jack’s elbow. Jack doesn’t flinch or pause his conversation, simply squats down to pick up the hat, somehow managing to not jostle your son. Once he stands back up, Jack adjusts his arm around your son’s thighs. Both of you knew well enough by now that there was no use in making him change positions. No matter how unusual, he would either find that spot again or contort into an even more uncomfortable-for-you position.

Jack sways from his hips back and forth. There’s no music besides the easy conversation and rustling leaves. Before too long, the little one is down for the count. You chuckle at the sight of your friends unintentionally mirroring Jack’s movements despite none of them holding a sleeping tyke. He says something you can’t parse out, but he gets hearty laughter in response. Jack nods to the crew and leaves, his amusement turning into affection with every step he takes in your direction. Condensation and your diverted attention let your drink slip in your hand, but you catch it before you spill. As you take a refreshing sip, you make a mental note to ask him about the story later.

~≈~

Tag List 🥰💞

I don’t have a tag list form yet (I am an absent minded procrastinator, after all), but feel free to message me and I will add you to my list(s)!

@acrossthesestars

@hnt-escape

@mesmorales

@oonajaeadira

Banner credit @ acrossthesestars 💚

[usagichronicles]

BEGIN RECORDING...

  “Name fer the record -- Clara Maracewicz. Rank, Constable. I’m from the Mounted detachment headquartered in Barton-in-the-Beans, responsible fer the mobile towns up in North Victoria. Today’s my hundredth day on the job since graduating the police academy. That means it’s my first solo patrol!” After a grin to the camera, this very youthful Kuranta clipped her body camera to her vest. “Let’s make it a good one!”

Fast forward...

  For a brief moment, Constable Maracewicz had removed the camera from her vest and was looking directly into it with a confident - naïve - smile. 

   “I’m at me first call of the day. Right now I’m on the corner of Baffin Building and Ontario Building, down deep in the slums. Real high-crime area, I were despatched with my pike and everything, but there ain’t no fight ter be had. One of the mums ‘round here called on a phone box, reported that three kids had been left locked in one of them flats up there with a lit paraffin stove. The residence is in the name of a couple, Molly and Richard Taylor. I’m going up there ter and seeing what’s what.” The young constable took the steps three at a time, not entirely out of urgency, but still out of a sense of cheer. 

  Certainly, the crowd of smoking onlookers didn’t want to miss a thing. 

  “Right!” Clara called with a cheerful disposition almost pouring out. “What’s all this, then?”

  “Oh, they sent ‘lil Clara!”

  “Clara, my girl! It’s been a bit sent I last saw yaouw luv, what fer, three, four years?”

  “Yaouw want a cuppa, luvvie, once yaouw done the business?”

  “Didn’t think yaouw’d go off and be a Mountie! Why, I heard all the rumours, didn’t think fer a moment they’d be true!”

  Cheerful polite laughter from the constable belied what she was actually doing, gently but forcefully pushing her way through the crowd. Right on up to the door, which she knocked on. “Constable Claracewicz of the Mounties! Anyone home? Open up!” Perhaps one of the parents were still here. Perhaps not.

  There was no initial response. She knocked again, shouted again. By now she knew there was no parents home. But the mail flap opened. 

  Grani bent down to look, and her eyes met the pale green of a child looking through. As quick as she’d spotted the little kid, they shied away from the little opening. Quick as a flash, the hand not holding her pike lunged forward and stuck into the slot, keeping it open for her to look.

  There were no lights on in the one room flat. The body cam moved with Grani’s gaze, she was using her whole body to move and try to get a glimpse. There -- a pram, baby-blue. Next to it, another kid. “Two little tykes and a little infant... Okay...” All three were utterly silent.

  Then the constable audibly sniffed, and sniffed again, and gagged. “Oh, bloody--them’s feces I’m smelling!” Moving out of the way of the light, Clara let some shine through the slot. What she saw instantly made her close it.

  “Back! Everyone back! I’m knocking off this blimming lock!” Onlookers shouted in surprise, with loud commotion while they backed up on this crowded balcony. With no hesitation, the constable attached the blade head to her pike, and swung it. A perfect strike knocked off the lock. Another quick motion saw her kick the door with hard force, breaking the hinges and forcing it open.

  Sunlight shown into the flat, showing everything in terrible detail to the constable’s camera. By the instant gagging sound Clara made, the stench was putrid. The room was full of flies, old food, a heap of excrement and dirty diapers in a corner crawling with maggots. 

  Clara visibly recoiled, taking an instinctive step back, but then forced her way forward. She made a beeline for the stove, shutting it off instantly. Then it was checking on the baby -- the infant was sleeping soundly. Unlike the rest of the room, and the visibly grimy kids shying away from the constable, the infant was clean and well cared for.

   Gently, Clara approached the two. Assuring them they’d be fine now in a voice that audibly showed her inexperience, her lack of knowledge of what to do in this situation. The pike was placed against a wall, her hands outstretched to take theirs. It took a couple of minutes of coaxing before a pair of little hands grasped her own. Even with the size of the small Kuranta, they barely wrapped around two of her fingers each. 

   Clara pushed the pram out to the balcony, the kids clutching her hand, out of sight of the camera. The moment she was out of the flat, there was a loud gasp for fresh air. “I’m going ter get the parents fer this,” she muttered to herself. She turned to her right just in time to see a woman push through the crowd. 

   “Lemme through! Lemme through! I’m them kids’ grandmum! Lemme through!”

Clara didn’t prevent it when the woman dove to clutch at the kids, tears pouring from her eyes. She recognised the woman.

   “Mrs. Jenkins, weren’t it? Yaouw know of the conditions they been in before now?” The woman shook her head, the kids hugged to herself. “Where’s the mum or the father?” Clara asked again, her voice hard, brimming with anger.

  “My baby girl’s gone out on the game,” the woman sobbed. “That Richard, he’s a bad lot, I tells her he’s a bad lot, but she luvs him, yaouw see. Yaouw don’t want nuffink to do with ‘im. He’s no good ter her, and now she’s gone out on the game!”

    By now the crowd had begun to disperse. Part of it was the excitement seemed to be over, part of it the smell, part of it the horror of the situation. It took only a bit more until Clara was satisfied that the grandmother would take them. Clara turned back to the flat, held her nose, and went in to grab her pike.

  “Nevermind my luvvies. Nanna’s got yaouw... Nanna’s got yaouw...”

  A man’s voice, an angered voice.

  “I told yaouw ter stay away from my kids yaouw old crone! Why’s my fucking door broken off? What did yaouw do?!”

   The sound of an impact. Palm against flesh. A cry of pain.

  Quickly, the constable rushed back out to the balcony. What greeted her eyes was a man with a hand raised. Mrs. Jenkins reeling with tears of pain glistening in her eyes, a red impact on her cheek. 

  In a moment it was over. Clara’s pike whipped around, the blunt side whapping the man right in the chest, slamming him into the wall. Without another instant to react, she had him pushed onto the ground, forced down, barely able to struggle. 

  “Richard Taylor, yaouw are under arrest fer neglect of three children under the age of five, and assault against a female. Yaouw do not have ter say anything unless you wish ter do so.  Yaouw have nothing ter hope from any promise of favour, and nothing ter fear from any threat, whether or not you say anything.  Anything yaouw say may be used as evidence...”

  There was no mercy in that voice. It was likely the hardest edge Clara had ever put in her voice in her whole life so far. 

The handcuffs came out, and slapped hard down on his wrists.

It was Constable Maracewicz’ first arrest.

[megabees]

extraordinary magic

Their love is magic. 

Hers, divine. His, some learning and some passion, but never a solid answer. 

His, harnessed through song, hers through prayer.

Throughout their lives, though they seem to blend into each other. His music, a form of prayer, her devotion, almost a song.

 -----------------------------------

After the defeat of Vecna, after everything calms down, Pike still works at the temple. It’s a sort of peace she gets there, despite being the Chosen of Sarenrae, despite knowing she can call for her intervention whenever needed. There is an odd form of respect inherent in a temple, a calmness and a comfort in the idea that things are bigger than you. 

Pike yearns for that quiet some days. Her bad days usually find her there at the temple, searching for just something to calm the mind, calm the racing thoughts, make the heart stop beating as if every single threat is coming towards her, like she will have to watch all of her friends die and not be able to save a single one. She already couldn’t save one. Anxious. Afraid. Alone. 

In the temple, she is never alone. Sarenrae is always with her. 

Scanlan’s bad days take a different form. 

Scanlan has never been good with a loss of control, a loss of knowledge, not having the upper hand. He’s done a lot of stupid shit, he knows that his actions have consequences, but his worst moments come when he can’t control what people think of him, or when he can’t change other’s minds. On his bad days, he replays Vax’s death over and over again, knowing that he could have controlled this loss, knowing He Could Have Saved Him. In this case, he didn’t have the upper hand. He couldn’t outsmart a god. 

When the crushing weight of his lack of control hits him, when the grief is overbearing and there is nothing he can do to change it, the only option for him is to sleep. For Scanlan, there is no “working through the pain”, no easy solution to help him find peace. Music becomes too loud, light becomes too bright, nothing can bring him numbness other than sleep. It is the rawest form of escapism, the truest form of freedom. 

Pike knows this. Usually, on one of Scanlan’s bad days, she will allow him to sleep as long as he needs, until the sun begins to set and he needs to eat. She will bring him dinner, and then they will sit in bed and hold each other, knowing that the pain may be everlasting, but the current wave is only temporary. 

On one of these such days, Scanlan wakes before Pike brings him dinner. For some reason, the grief isn’t as crushing as it usually is when he rises, so he sneaks out to the kitchen to surprise Pike. He is unprepared for what he sees. 

Pike, lit by the setting sun, her white hair reflecting orange and gold and pink. Haloed almost, how fitting, he thinks, and she is breathtaking. She’s humming a small tune, softly and under her breath, shaking her hips in time with her own little beat while stirring a pot of stew. In this light, Scanlan has never been more in love with her. She is capable of healing with magic, but for him, in this moment, her music, it makes him whole. 

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

Occasionally, when Vasselheim or Emon’s temples come calling, Pike has to leave Scanlan in Westeruun to go assist with a resurrection or rebuilding or some other form of clerical duties. 

They don’t like to separate. Scanlan would like her to tell all of the other religious figures that he’s her constant plus one, but Pike knows that if they were to go together, she wouldn’t want to do her duties, she would just want to cause chaos with him. It is a hard life to constantly be devout. 

For her, leaving reminds her of loss. She has missed so much, she has been unable to save her friends so many times due to not being there. She has been so saddled with responsibility that she isn’t always able to help, she has been gone so often before that home didn’t feel like home. You go away for a time, and when you come back, everything is the same, but everything is different. There are events you miss, and jokes you can’t be a part of, and even if people miss you, everything is not the same. 

But what do you do when that happens? You still have a duty, you still must serve, you made a commitment. Pike loves her goddess, this is a fact, but she also loves and has loved so many others. She can not be like a dragon and just hold all that she holds dear to her close. 

So she serves, and she goes to Vasselheim, and she goes to Emon; whoever, wherever needs the Champion of Sarenrae. Her problems, her feelings of loss and missing out do not compare to other people’s problems, so she leaves Scanlan, and teleports out with Allura, or Keyleth, or whatever magical authority needs her at that moment. Perhaps it will be a short trip this time. 

Scanlan hates it when she leaves. He is so afraid for her safety, so worried that something will happen and she will dedicate herself to saving someone else, rather than save herself. She will fight, rather than run. She is brave like that. 

It’s not that she’s not incredibly powerful, because he has seen what she can do, it is just that she is so selfless. She is so good. That’s why she’s needed, after all. He can not have her all to himself, she needs to help. She needs to be needed. 

But everytime she leaves, Scanlan trusts in the one thing he knows has Pike’s interests at their heart. Other than Grog and himself, the only person Scanlan trusts is Sarenrae. Although he is the Champion of Ioun, and isn’t a big “God Guy”, Pike loves Sarenrae. So every time she leaves, whether it be early morning or mid-afternoon, Scanlan sees her off and then walks to the shrine they have built to Sarenrae in the backyard, prays for Pike’s safety, and then goes on with his day. 

It is one of these early mornings that Pike discovers Scanlan’s prayers. She headed off to Zephrah with Keyleth, then promptly forgot her mace at home, and had to go back to get it. While rooting through their adventuring gear, tangled up as it is with Scanlan’s instruments and swords, she catches a glimpse of Scanlan, arms up to the sun. Grabbing her mace, she heads out to speak to him, overhearing what he is saying. 

Please, keep her safe. I can not do it all on my own, and you know she will never admit weakness. Show her that leaving does not mean abandonment, and that there is a way to heal from a distance. Touch her with the rays of the sun, with every freckle that appears, it is just a sign of our love. Guide her, provide her hope, and when she is done, bring her back to me. 

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

They tell all their friends about the baby coming at the same time, at a picnic thrown on the anniversary of all of them meeting. It has been long enough that the occasion, while still sad is not riddled with grief over Vax, and is one of the few times that Keyleth will come in from Zephrah and the De Rolo’s (all of them!) come in from Whitestone. Grog is overjoyed, and the announcement provides for an excuse for them all to get together again in four months for a shower, and three months after that to meet the little tyke. 

It’s a tough pregnancy, mostly emotionally, for both Scanlan and Pike don’t have much to go on for parenting, and certainly don’t know how to prep for an infant, but both of them have always done better in crisis rather than in stasis, so they make it through okay. 

And when she is born, little Wilhelmina Juniper, she is the cutest thing they’ve ever seen, with lungs of her father and the fierceness of her mother. 

They settle into domesticity with Mina pretty quickly, but one thing they learn about their child is that she, much like her mother and father, is prone to wandering and escaping and staying awake because there’s just too much to do during the day. Suffice to say, she’s a bit rowdy. Vex describes her as a little terror, and Grog is thrilled but exhausted by the whirlwind that is the littlest Shorthalt-Trickfoot. 

There is one thing that is guaranteed to put little Mina to sleep though, and it is a lullaby sung by both of her parents. Passed down by Wilhand to help put Pike to sleep, it is a hymn from Sarenrae’s temple, one of returning home, of seeking redemption, of compassion for all. There is no place where the two of them feel more at home than singing over their child, showing her the intersection between music and the divine. 

It is one of these such nights, with the two gnomes holding hands over Mina’s bed finishing the song, when they notice faint sparkles in the air. Shocked, the two look down at their child, watching sparkles explode from her hands as she clapped. 

With Mina having magic, they learn quickly how to stop a firebolt in its path, as well as how to control a child who does not know how their magic works, and eventually, she goes off to learn how to control it at a school and becomes very powerful, as expected. 

The Trickfoot-Shorthalts have two more kids, all who grow up incredibly loved, and they sing the same lullaby to all of them, each one growing up knowing that music can be a source for divine magic. 

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

A bard, a sorcerer, a monk and a wizard sit in the front row of the Temple of the Sarenrae, the Everlight in the early morning. They are celebrating the renewal of vows of Pike Trickfoot-Shorthalt and Scanlan Trickfoot-Shorthalt, Champions of Sarenrae and Ioun, and they are the children of the lucky couple. Kaylie, the bard, attempts to appear as she is not crying, while Mina, the sorcerer, is openly weeping. The monk and the wizard, the two youngest Trickfoot-Shorthalts, grin, watching as their parents descend from the front of the temple. Others are there, Vex’s eyes bright clutching Percy’s hand, Keyleth wistful, Grog right behind Pike on the altar, but the two gnomes at the front have eyes only for each other. 

As they descend, without any warning, a breeze blows both of their hair back and a sunbeam seems to illuminate them in golden light. A chorus of violins begins to play, and they suddenly find themselves floating above the crowd. Giggling, the gnomes hold hands and wave, noticing how shocked some of their guests look at the show, despite no one seeming to cast anything. 

It makes sense though, for Pike and Scanlan. After all, their love has and always will be magic.   

[robotpoetry]

WORN

"Worn" Through The Voices Of Ease Tomkin Its Voice Of Youth Now Been The Dismal Care Like A Tyke Stain Her Mother S Vanschaick The Ancient Bard Youth Pined Away Gleich The Painted Birds D Pike Weep He Who Sets Maybin And A Father What The Medlin

[graywyvern]

( @elegiacimages / "gnostic turpitude" via nightcafe )

The Tired Tree.

now, while the cloudlets coalesce completing my metempsychosis, the void discloses struggles that none could guess:

shards of selves the Road's long buried emerge & shove the one aside whose faith has died; idolatries i've parried

convene anew & issue counsel i've no strength to countermand. another hand avows the plans i'd cancel...

--enough of plaints against the seasons' round! in all the realms this is the only Lost-and-Found.

Obliteration.

"Hedgehog Suave"

i found a name i like: the town of Hope. consider if it's worth the hike to grope. in Dallas i so gripe because of all the hype. i wonder what it's like to live in Hope.

once started on the 'pike i'm sure i'd cope. my predilection is to strike & mope whenever i've a yoke; i cannot see the joke. i shit on ev'ry Reich that'd make me soap.

even as a tyke i would be Pope. awhile i thought i'd plug the dike with dope... resentment in my pipe, i shuffle through the smoke & dream i'll meet my like --outside of Hope.

What a Banquet Hall on Asgard Might Look Like.

the weeks slip by, the hours drag; i spin my otherworldly web & play the pleb on this unscenic crag so i don't have to beg. but in the Lab all jewels are mine to freely grab --call me an honorary yegg.

Experiments in Attaining Escape Velocity.

[2022-moon]

☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️ October 10, 2021 ☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️ Angel Food Cake Day ☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️

☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️ <̬̂ⓐ̬̂ⓝ̬̂ⓖ̬̂ⓔ̬̂ⓛ̬̂>̬̂ ̬̂<̬̂ⓕ̬̂ⓞ̬̂ⓞ̬̂ⓓ̬̂>̬̂ ̬̂<̬̂ⓒ̬̂ⓐ̬̂ⓚ̬̂ⓔ̬̂> ☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️

☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️ #AngelFoodCake #NFT ☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️

☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️ https://youtu.be/91vWU1qcLDI ☀️🟠☢️🥮☢️🟠☀️

w we know what we like - we will create and make - we will have what is ours take - speaking the truth in mic - increasing the stream lake - we keep going wake - angel food cake

m I am ready highest ranking duke - I speak truth for all sake - It's easy as cake - I will call out the jokes - so that everything is jake - celebrate with a drink of a coke - angel food cake

w we love to bake - we will pierce through pike - our adventure in this hike - until we have poked - the center of the yoke - to get attention and celebrate with juke - angel food cake

m we are real no hoke - people don't like truth puke - but we will be famous nuke - we're genuine not deke - full of nutrition hake - heal our inner tyke - angel food cake

w we don't toke - we will get our justice in soke - we will catch all of our customers fyke - we are no moke - we cook all the way cuke - found our third lek - angel food cake

wm We increase the power in the sike - we will make an impact shake - no one is alike - our sales will spike - we know what's at stake - I will do what it takes - angel food cake - fortune we will partake

[mothxart]

Drew some familiars again with my friend’s markers

[curiokhan0113]

Complicated

you and I were meant to be

Then why aren't we free

Cause even the blind will see

That It will take more than bended knee

But always learn to agree

Why we make the wrong things flee

And the obvious is a mistery

There's things we both like

But differences is no reason to strike

While trying to reach the pike

By walking driving plane and bike

Let's start with this psych

Cause neither are tyke

To yell I'm Ike

But find out what to spike

So let's come together

Despite any kind of weather

Ending up light as a feather

And the color is more than heather

To have fun and not fight in leather

Being far from nether

Being sure not whether

[block-writes-babes]

CROSSOVER TIME

“So how exactly did you get these burns?” John questioned as he began to cut away the blackened skin. He glanced up at the red haired man on his table and shook his head at the man’s grin.

“I told ya’, it was a bonfire gone wrong.” The man shrugged and John sighed before setting his scissors down and settling into his chair.

“You say that, and yet I’ve seen a man burned alive and his burns weren’t as severe as that one right there. Your arm shouldn’t even be attached to your torso still.” John tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a challenge. “So tell me, how does a fellow like you survive dragon burns with a smile on his face?”

The man’s smile fell away as his mouth dropped open.

“Squib,” John supplied with a grin. “My mum was a muggleborn.”

“Don’t scare a mate like that!” The man groaned and his head hit the wall behind him.

“So why didn’t you go to Mungo’s for this?” John questioned, leaning forward to pike at the arm with a gloved finger. “Surely they would be able to do this better than I can.”

“I... didn’t exactly have clearance to be working with this dragon.”

John raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t keep any burn potion on you because?”

“It was a last minute thing? My brother called and when I was about halfway back, the little tyke got a case of the hiccups and took me out.” He chuckled and sent a lopsided grin and a wink in John’s direction. “Not that I’m complaining, ‘acourse. It lead me to a handsome bloke like you.”

John chuckled. “Well this handsome bloke is wanting to know the real name of his patient, Mr. Longjohn.”

“It’s actually Weasley. Charlie Weasley, at your mercy.”

@saurasaurusrex @saurasaurus

Written for these two lovelies!

[demigoddessqueens]

Baby-non here for an ask

Baby decides to play hide in seek/Boo! How do reader and parents react?

Reader x Percy

Reader x Vax

Reader x Dorian

Reader x Dariax

Reader x Will x Orym

Reader x Scanlan

Reader x Ashton

Reader x Grog

Reader x Mollymauk

Reader x Caleb x Essek

Hdjahdkwjdje this is too cute! Tiny one would just be giggling from their small spot, waiting

Percy

“Where did my little tinkerer go?? It’s such a shame, I was really looking forward to this project…”

Popping up from under the desk “here I am papa!!”

Vax’ildan

“Oh no, it’d be a shame if I couldn’t share these boots with someone…too small for me”

Sees bare feet sticking out from a spot and sends Simon to them, followed by tiny ones shrieking laughs

Caleb and Essek

“Fraudlein, you hear something? Hhmm, I don’t know Caleb dear, sounds as if a certain someone isn’t studying”

“But I am, pappas. I have my bwooks with me”

Dorian

“I have a great idea for a song…but alas I’m missing my lyre. Nope, no idea where they went.”

*hears off tune strumming and a snicker 🤭

Scanlan

“Where or where is that little songbird?? Hmm, might need some help with a little song treat I had planned”

*tiny hands around him* “oooh can I help?? Pwease!”

Dariax

“Hum..nope not here. Not there either. Darn, I guess I’ll have to go shopping by myself then.”

Tiny one scampers in with a coin “wait! Wait! Wanna go!”

Ashton

“Hhmm…auntie Fearne couldn’t find you. And Chetney made such a nice toy for someone…oh well”

Little one comes barreling in “wait! I’m here!”

Grog

“Oi now where did my little one run off to? I’m sure they’d like Auntie Pike’s

*gasp “where?? What surprise?”

“THERE YOU ARE!”

Mollymauk

Pretends he doesn’t see where little one is hiding, but let’s his tail flicker where they’re hiding before they bat at it. Scoops them up with a purring laugh

“There you are, little tyke!”

Will and Orym

“Dear, did you hear something from the garden today? I don’t know, maybe it was just a nosey mouse”

Tiny one pops up, “I made us flower 🌸 crowns!”

[gleefully-macabre]

I’m not actually sure where I’m going with this, if anywhere.

A Scanlan/Pike story where Vox Machina never met Pike, taking place after the Underdark.

1/?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Pike burst out when her great-great-grandfather announced he had contacted a distant relative to arrange a marriage for her.

“You’re of marrying age, young Pike,” Wilhand stated, his stout arms crossed.  “It’s your duty to carry on the Trickfoot line, for Her sake.” He gestured to the small prayer corner, and the statue of Sarenrae, their patron deity.

Pike wilted under his gentle chiding.  “I know, Pawpaw,” she conceded, then immediately brightened. “But all the gnome villages are so far away.  Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to travel there instead of him coming here?”

He chuckled and patted her head.  “Young Grog doesn’t bring you enough tales of his adventures, eh? Want to run off and have your own?”

Pike tried not to grimace at the condescending tone.  Wilhand was several hundred years old, and still saw Pike as a child.  “We could travel with Grog,” she offered. “No one would bother us with a goliath around.”

Wilhand’s smile grew sad, and then vanished entirely. “I know Westruun can be dull, but most of the family has already turned from Sarenrae’s path for us.  And you, Pike. You’re special.  For you to lose Her blessing would be…” His voice cracked and he pressed quavering lips together.

Guilt struck her like a blow.  The story of how Sarenrae changed the course of the Trickfoot family had been told and retold throughout her life.  Yet one by one, each of Wilhand’s children and grandchildren had gone back to the old ways of trickery and thieving.  Pike’s parents had turned to piracy shortly after her birth.  She still dreamed, sometimes, of joining a crew herself and perhaps finding them, even though she had no memory of their faces.  They were most likely dead anyhow. Gnomes did not last long on adventures.

She squeezed his hand. “Grog should be passing by soon,” she said. “Maybe… maybe he can deliver the letters for you?”

Wilhand smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a good girl, Pike.”

She smiled weakly. If only that were true.

*   *   *

“I’m running out of rhymes,” Scanlan complained.  “Like, bike, tyke, that one Vax won’t let me say anymore.”

Vax grunted from the back of his sister’s pet bear.  He had emerged from the Underdark somewhat worse for wear, with half his foot destroyed. The healers in Emon were occupied in undoing Lady Kima’s paralysis. The state of a thief’s foot meant little compared to the life of a paladin.

It was Grog, of all people, who had the solution.  “Me buddy, Pike,” he’d shouted.  “She been healing things since we was li’l.  Probably grow the whole fuckin’ foot back.”

“Probably charge a fortune for it as well,” Vex muttered, thinking of the heavy purse of gold waiting for them in Kraghammer.

“Grog wouldn’t lie to us, would he?” Keyleth asked, not as quietly as she had intended.

“Not intentionally,” Percy answered.  “But I wouldn’t be surprised if this friend peddles false potions.”

“Then why did we come all this way?”

“No one had a better idea.”

Scanlan plucked absently at his lute while the kids bickered, but inspiration remained out of reach.  He had some idea of what this Pike chick looked like based on Grog’s infrequent stories of his childhood friend.  “She’s a monstah,” he would growl with pride.  Probably another goliath, Scanlan thought, fingers dancing across the strings.  Or an orc. Huge, scarred up from fighting. The only way to earn Grog’s respect was to kick his ass, and Pike was clearly Grog’s favorite person.  Scanlan sighed with much drama, his ennui ignored by the rest of the crew.  He had been bereft of female companionship since Kraghammer. That elf had been a monster in her own right; he was in the mood for something softer.

Maybe Westruun had a brothel.

As thought deliberately adding to the tragedy of Scanlan’s life, Grog led them passed the entrance to Westruun to the outskirts of town, near something called a Bramblewood.  Long practice of keeping up with taller people did not prevent him from falling somewhat behind, and he brought up the rear of the party when Grog motioned for them to stop.  Peering between legs, he caught a glimpse of a house far in the distance, mentally groaning at the thought of so many times more.  Instead of striding ahead, however, Grog leaned his head back and let out a battle roar.   Everyone grabbed for their weapons, Vax slipped from the bear’s back to snatch daggers from his belt, all looking around for whatever Grog spotted that they had missed.

The door to the distant house flew open, and a pale creature darted out, headed straight for them. Grog, his weapons untouched, ran forward with a cruel cackle.

Percy blinked, dumbfounded. “Do my glasses need adjustment or…?”

“No,” Vax replied, stunned.  “We see it, too.”

The house was not so far away as it seemed. Rather, it was small. And the small creature that ran from the building met Grog in the center of the field, leaping into the air and punching his fist in a display so pathetic, her fingers should have squeaked.

Keyleth gestured towards the duo.  “I was not expecting… anything like that.”

Scanlan, for once, had nothing to say.  Not a goliath or an orc or a particularly fearsome dwarf.  Grog’s friend Pike was a gnome.  A lovely, hopefully single female gnome.

He cast Prestidigitation on himself to banish the dust from the road and cursed his sturdy armor.  The burgundy leather was a flashier color than most people preferred, but he had nicer clothes tucked away in his pack. No time to get to them, or get changed. He’d go for Rakish Swashbuckler and hope for the best.

“You can call him ‘Percy”,” Grog said following Percy’s inevitably long introduction.  And, uh… who’d I miss?”

“You saved the best for last, of course,” Scanlan declared, parting the twins’ cloaks like a curtain and stepping into the center of the group before Pike’s startled blue eyes.  She was even prettier up close, he

decided with a thrill.  “Scanlan Shorthalt, the leader of this motley group.”  He bowed with a flourish, stepping closer as he straightened, and slipped his hand under hers. “We’ve heard much of your might,” he said, leaning close and allowing his voice to drop to a honeyed murmur. “But not nearly enough of your beauty.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes wide.  Scanlan was just about to discard subtlety altogether and steal a kiss from those perfect pink lips, but a hand pulled him off his feet by the back of his shirt.

“This ain’t no Lady Favors House,” Grog hissed.  Not in anger, but in explanation, as though trying to stop Scanlan from embarrassing himself. Hah, fat chance.

“I was just being polite,” Scanlan lied.

“You really travel with them?” Pike asked, fascination written clearly across her face.

Scanlan struck a pose, ignoring the fact that Grog still held him aloft. “Why, dear, in my time, I’ve traveled all across Tal’dorei and beyond. I’d be happy to tell you of my travels, perhaps over dinner?”

“As fun as it is watching Scanlan get shot down, I think gangrene has set in.”  Vax held onto his sister while he pulled off his boot, much to her disgust.

“Ugh, brother! Your feet smell terrible.”

“If someone would heal me, it might not smell so bad.”

“Oh, dear!” Pike rushed over to examine the remains of his foot.  Scanlan shot Vax a glare for stealing her attention away. “You’d better come inside.  I might need to pray over this for a while.”

To everyone’s surprise, they all fit in the tiny house.  Grog, ducked in and settled near the fireplace as though he had done so every day of his life. Which, Scanlan realized belatedly, he likely had.

Pike settled Vax on a chair near a small alter in the corner. “Pawpaw’s at the market right now, but does anybody want some tea?  I mean, I can’t actually make tea very well…”

“Foot please,” Vax demanded, sounding very similar to Trinket when he was begging at the table.

Abandoning her uncertain hostess duties, Pike knelt over Vax’s partial foot, took the pendant hanging around her neck into her hands and closed her eyes in prayer.  Scanlan took the opportunity to admire her profile.

To everyone’s shock, after only a few minutes had passed, a bright glow sifted through her fingers.  Pike pressed the symbol to his stump with one hand and held his heel with the other hand when he tried to pull away. A few more minutes passed in silence aside from Vax’s panicked yelps, then the glow faded. Pike sighed in satisfaction and opened her eyes to examine the newly grown foot.

Vex blinked at her twin’s limb. “Wow.”

"Indeed," Percy echoed in an awed tone.  "Well done."

Scanlan said nothing, a thousand verses suddenly running through his mind.  In Pike, he had found something far better than a fling.  

He found a muse.

[boldlyholycollectorblr-blog]

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