#plot with me you ass.
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Part 2/2
By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.
In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.
So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.
When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.
He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.
The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.
The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.
It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.
And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.
However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.
Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:
Children.
Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.
Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.
They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.
It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.
When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:
Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.
Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.
"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.
Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.
He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.
Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.
He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.
Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.
He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.
He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.
"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.
He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.
All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?
#OKAY SO YOU KNOW THAT ONE SCENE IN THE BOOK OF BILL OR SMTH WHERE THEY SHOW ALL THE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE VERSION OF DIPPER AND MABEL#WHEN THEY WEREN'T AS LUCKY AS THEIR ORIGINAL COUNTERPARTS#THAT'S WHO STAN MEETS HERE#I need you people to know that I had to rewrite this whole thing like 3 times because my dumbass#was writing a whole ass fic in TUMBLR DRAFTS so obviously it kept deleting itself <3#but it was worth it for the Stan angst <3#watch how many trigger warnings I can fit in this post#tw child death#tw death#tw dead animals#tw graphic description#tw graphic violence#tw graphic#tw body horror#tw scopophobia#tw gore#TELL ME IF I GOTTA TAG MORE!!#gravity falls#gravity falls au#HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU#stanley pines#stan pines#grunkle stan#dipper pines#mabel pines#pines twins#absolutely not beta read- so if there are any grammar mistakes or plot holes... shhhhhh you saw nothing...#my writing#my fic#my art
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Ok ok Johnny but he can’t accept the fact that people love him?
First girlfriend. Went south real fast and realised he was gay.
First boyfriend. Was bi-curious. First heartbreak too.
Second boyfriend. Only wanted him for his body. Self explanatory.
Third boyfriend. Way too emotionally unavailable, felt like they weren’t even dating at a point. Turns out he already has a partner.
You get the gist.
At a very young age, Johnny was aware of his unfortunate personality. School fights, family scoldings, bedroom sobbing, it’s all just a blur to him now. It’s not like he had the worst life out there, no. But he can’t shake the fact that he can’t really remember anything about his childhood. The trauma stuck though, unfortunately.
He could never really seem to shake off that “unloveable” blanket on his shoulders.
It’s not that bad, in retrospect. His friends like him, sure. They tolerate him. He knows he’s loud, he knows he’s brash, he’s a lot to deal with! He understands. So every once in a while, he’ll just…back off. Leave everyone alone and just spend some time alone. The horrors do get to him when he’s alone in his room, clutching the fabric of his shirt and trying to get ahold of his breathing, but it’s basically nothing to what everyone else has to endure! He’s selfish, he knows it already, always needy, always wanting. This is the least he can do to make sure that his loved ones aren’t tipped over the boiling point and actually leave him for good.
He doesn’t know what to do with himself at times.
Then he meets ghost.
Powerful, strong, admirable Ghost. He blew his fucking lid. He’s even bigger than the rumours suggest. He’s professional, clean. He’s everything that Soap wishes to be.
He’s jealous right off the bat. How could he not be?
Honestly, he feels a bit bad for the guy at the start. Soap’s laying it on thick with the touching and the questions. He’s obviously fucking with him a bit, bit to be fair he’s not really doing much to stop him either. As time goes on, it becomes a weird sort of admiration/jealousy thing. He still is jealous of Ghost, but not to an extreme extent that he could be.
Ghost is another very peculiar case, one that Soap doesn’t seem to mind prodding. After a few missions together, he could see why he was so infamous. But still, Ghost wasn’t pushing back. Has anyone done this to him before? Why was he just letting this happen? Ghost might find him weird, sure, but he’s the most curious disturbing motherfucker soap’s ever met.
The army isn’t exactly a place to find someone to get their dick wet, homophobes around the corner at every turn. Soap’s just accepted it as part of life now, not really wanting to think much on it but having that fact lurk at the back of his mind. It’s a bit depressing, sure, to not have anyone get to know his actual self, but then again he was sure that anyone who truly got to know him wouldn’t talk to him ever again. If it’s not the gay thing, it’s the army thing. If its not the army thing, it the personality thing. Whatever. John’s gotten used to it.
However, though some unexplainable force (the SAS and Price), Soap and Ghost had become some sort of dynamic duo now. They’d fought together, lost together, gone through some of the most horrific weathers known to man, and they’d both survived under some miracle. Well, soap survived. He never doubted ghost would.
He got very close though. Way too close for Soap’s liking. They were in some fuck-ass country upside down the earth, down to his last mag and ghost clipped in the shoulder. They were hauling ass just- away. They didn’t know when exfil would get there, or where. Their main objective was just to survive. Ghost was making a very vulnerable wheezing sound from his throat and Soap’s gun was overheating, burning though his gloves.
“Soap- Sargent.” Ghost whispered, somehow always remaining calm in the most chaotic situation Soap’s been in so far. Either that, or he’s just really fuckin tired.
“No’ now, L.T, tryna get us to safety.”
“Soap, leave me behind.”
“What? Listen, I’ve got no time for your stupid heroism crap, okay? Just- shut up.”
“MacTavish, im serious. I have nothing waiting for me. I’ll be okay. Just go. Stay safe.”
“Whot the hell did i just say?” He snapped, turning towards him. “I’ve go’ no time for this. You’re coming wit me whether you like it or not.” Soap jabs a finger into his chest, leaning in close until he’s sure Ghost can see the faintest scar on his right eyebrow from screwing around with a razor with his friends, trying to give himself a eyebrow slit.
“You’ve got me, haven’t ya? You’ve got Price, and the people on your team are counting on you. I’m counting on you. So you can die somewhere else, in the bumfuck a’ nowhere, but you’re not allowed to die today, now. Ya hear me?”
Like this, gunpowder and dust making his nose itchy, looking intensely at Ghost to make sure his point is drive home, there’s a look in his eyes that soap thinks he’s never seen before. He- he kinda looks like-
How Soap looks at Ghost.
With admiration.
Oh.
So, yeah. They ran out of there on the air of their asses, Soap laughing as the final hits of adrenaline pulses his heart, Ghost leaning against him with the same look in his eye, and they’ve never exactly been the same after that.
Soap chalked it off as it being in the heat of the moment kinda thing, but he’s been consistently catching Ghost’s eye staring at him from a distance away, just staring, with that strange look in his eye. Not always with the same emotion, Soap guesses, but still. It’s close enough. He doesnt know what’s happening, or what he did, but something changed. And it’s driving him insane. It’s not that Ghost wasn’t already friendly in his own weird ghost way, but now he’s being friendly in a normal way.
It’s so weird.
He’ll be waiting at the gun range for Soap like he knows he’d appear there, toss him an apple when he feels peckish, slap his hand away when he needs to change bandages muttering something about him not doing it properly. It’s weird, and it’s nice, and it’s making soap feel all itchy and hot. he can’t even scratch himself anymore as a soothing tick, Ghost will just slap his hand away and grumble a “stop that.”
It’s weird, and soap can’t help but enjoy it.
He feels a bit selfish, feeling like he’s somehow taking advantage of ghost’s kindness, but for what? He’s feeling guilty but what exactly is he being selfish about? Maybe a mental checkup is in order, he’s losing his mind a bit. They’re friends, that’s all. It’s not…that unheard of that ghost would have friends, isn’t it? He should feel honoured to be his…fist? Again, Soap doesn’t know a lot about him.
Time passes. He dips his toes in guerrilla warfare for the first time, can’t say he’s a fan. Been backstabbed, shot, and survived. Hes earned his nickname, and sticks by it. (Hah) Though thick and thin, Ghost’s been there throughout it all. An angel guiding him to the churches, a leader who he would follow to the pits of hell, a friend when he needed one. After all that, the questions just never seemed to slow down. About his family, himself, his hobbies… to keep him awake, to pass the time, just whenever. Mostly Soap would get grumbles and short answers, proper sentences if he’s in the mood (which is all the time) or drunk enough. He’s flustered under all the attention and he knows it, itching beneath the helmet and the layers of armour. Soap is brash, and loud, and a little bit of a pyromaniac. He knows it. He’s fine with it. All jagged edges, no slowing down in sight. He doesnt know what to do with the change coming. He does the only thing he knows to do. He runs. After all of it is said and done, with makarov in the streets now, not much is to be done other than waiting for further instruction.
Applies leave for a few days, rented a airbnb online, have some alone time. Reset. Easy. Simple. Hes done this all his life. But when he was just about to slip out, Ghost suddenly appeared right in front of him.
“Gah- Jesus, fuck, ghost. What’s wrong?”
“You’re leaving.”
“Yeah, I am. You signed off on the papers.”
“Why?”
“Just…some time. To myself.”
“Is that it?”
“…yeah?” What else does he want me to say?
Ghost looks like he.. squirms a bit, which is weird. Ghost doesn’t squirm.
“Just… the countryside. And stuff.” This is the worst casual conversation he’s ever had with Ghost.
“Um… i got you something.” Then he’s holding something out.
“Huh? Really- this is a rock.” What the fuck.
“It’s a rock from Las Almas.”
“You… kept a rock. From Las Almas. What, you couldn’t have stopped by an actual gift shop just around the corner? I think i saw one right around where i found your knife lodged into-”
“-You done yet?” He snaps.
“Apparently not, sir. You wanna explain the rock?” Soap’s being a bitch.
“Just that… you’re going to be alone… and. Makarov.”
“It’s a legitimate place, ghost. you wont find anyone there.”
“Not just that, it’s like-” He groans slightly and scratches the back of his head. “You’re going to be alone, and the last time you were alone..”
Oh.
“It’s just a reminder that like, I wasn’t going to give it to you this soon but, i was there. With you. You weren’t truly alone, johnny. And.. you’re going to be alone now. Actually alone. And i just….its. I’m here. At Redhill. I’m going to be here. You know where to find me.”
You’ve got me, haven’t ya?
Oh shit.
Soap doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the tip of his ears burning, pricking down his cheeks and flush down his neck. He doesnt know how to stand properly, what to say, how to think. Because everything he;s thinking right now should not be applied to his lieutenant.
This doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t change anything. It’s still the same. Soap knows that Ghost cares about him. He’s his Sargent. He’s his Sargent. But not in that way. They’re friends. The rock from Las Almas. He’s fine. They’re fine. It’s just like the rock is a physical manifestation and real evidence that Ghost may or may not like him. Jesus, he shouldn’t think like that. He’s too quiet. He should say something. His lips twitch.
“Thank you.” THAT’S IT?? SAY MORE.
“I’ll know where to look, then.” Soap gives the most half flustered, half assed smile he’s ever given to anyone. He cant even begin to imagine how he looks right now. His heart pulls. Ghost looks away. He feels like he’s going to be swept off his feet in a bad (good) way.
“Right then.” He clears his throat, disappearing down the corner of the hallway. Soap gapes as he stares after him. What was that? What was him? What? He looks down at the heavier-than-it should-look rock in his sweaty palms, and swallows.
This doesn’t change anything. They’re still working together. They’re the lieutenant and Sargent of the 141 Taskforce. He’s fine. They’re fine.
Everything is okay.
#PLS READ UNTIL THE END I SWEAR ITS WORTH IT#did yall catch that tv girl reference#me winging this entire thing and pulling the plot straight from my ass#can you tell I’ve been studying other people’s writing styles#anyways this draft was from… (blows dust) Jesus July??#wow#sure glad that’s gone huh#pointedly ignores the 12 other drafts#robs ramblings#call of duty#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghoap#ghostsoap
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text transcription:
Many springs ago, I perceived a sea of flowers upon a lake. I thought to myself that those fleeting colors held indescribable beauty.
The next time I perceived those colors was many years later, when the medic’s tent had blinded me to all but red. The radiance of that shining star was lost on my eyes.
Now, my eyes no longer perceive the subtleties in the colors around me.
But I am content.
For I can now see the most brilliant colors in my universe.
anyways yeah why did they fucking do that to jiaoqiu bro
the planning for this experimentalish comic is under keep reading
#artwork#digital art#hsr fanart#art#hsr#honkai star rail#jiaoqiu#hsr jiaoqiu#moze#hsr moze#feixiao#hsr feixiao#moqiu#feiqiu#moze x jiaoqiu#feixiao x jiaoqiu#it can go either way tbh depending on how you read it but i personally don’t ship feiqiu#this was mostly just jiaoqiu character exploration#hsr 2.5#hsr spoilers#just in case because i actually got fucking spoiled on the plot twist and it made me so mad#experimental comic#being in art school for like 3 weeks really experimentalpilled me#(i just wanted to do something other than lineart lmao)#painted it almost entirely with a singular noise brush because i was going for those memories vibes + jiaoqiu’s blind now#so i was trying to give the impression that he can’t see clearly#for anyone who’s about to like idk get on my ass about depicting blindness wrong#i based all of these visuals off of what i see when i take off my glasses#ill do more research when i wanna get in depth with this concept but for now my -300 degrees eyes are gonna have to be the reference#im imagining jiaoqiu with prescription bottlebottom glasses now
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fanfiction is incredible. right now i'm trying to write a character i know next to nothing about, for a single scene, and realizing i have no idea what's going on. who the fuck hangs out with zatanna? i don't fucking know. i'm gonna put together the most random line up of heroes for this mission because i can do what i want
#“actually zatanna and martian manhunter don't get along”#-someone reading chapter 15 probably i don't know i'm making that up out of my ass#“well they have to for this rando mission that means nothing to the plot”#-me who has spent two hours trying to figure shit out#i just wanna move on to the next scene hrhghrghhrgh#erinwantstowrite#ao3#leap of faith ao3#ao3 fanfic#leap of faith catch me if you can#leap of faith
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will you promise that i'll see you again?
summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.
word count: 2.3k
-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail
-> gn reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk
< masterlist >
“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”
dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…
this was more than he expected.
he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.
he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.
you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.
he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.
“…leading light?”
you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.
you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.
“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.
“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”
you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…
and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?
his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”
he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.
“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”
it’s the earth that leads you from danger.
it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.
it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.
it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.
it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.
it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.
it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.
and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”
you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.
you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.
he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?
he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.
he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.
he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.
your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.
he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.
…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.
he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?
he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.
that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.
perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.
but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.
“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”
you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”
his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”
he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.
“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”
twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#dainslef#sagau dainslef#dainslef x reader#genshin dainsleif#dainslef x you#gender neutral reader#genshin impact x gender neutral reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x gn reader#hes so shaped.... ily dain <3#just... shut up about dain's perspective of the creator. shh. its for the plot.#filtering should pick up on the warnings section and its very brief but to be very safe#tw sui ideation#tw suicidality#< popular tags; someone please tell me if i should use others too#to answer your unasked questions No i was not ok writing this. my ass was Exhausted#to be very clear i am better now were all good i was just having an awful two days#but we are so fucking back#had this marinating for a while just to like scrub out the more indulgent parts of it#there was a whole monologue about 'i cant fix it but i will be there for you. i cant make it go away but i can make it easier.' but. yk.#didnt fit the plot el em ay oh
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thinking about al haitham picking you up from work with a motorcycle hskdjskdjsl
#rin releases a plot bunny into the wild#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#al haitham#al haitham x reader#i feel like sumeru city in modern!au would be a huge metropilotan city with crazy ass traffic#so he'd choose functionality over comfort when going to certain places#besides this way he gets to feel you fully against his back#win win situation if you ask him#look at me trying to justify my thoughts#but basically my thot process was: al haitham + motorcycles = hOT
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hyper fixation too strong… life going too well… may have to pick up the pen and go back to ao3
#for the plot#ao3 author curse#last time i wrote a fic more than 16k words i was diagnosed with dka and in the hospital for a week#i have diabetes now and i fully blame solangelo#fuck you will solace look what your gay ass has done to me#anyway i can’t escape the x men#if i write scott summers fluff do you think the ao3 gods will curse me for it#x men#scott summers#x men comics#ao3#ao3 fanfic#deadpool#wolverine#deadpool wolverine#logan howlett#cyclops#jean grey#x men 97#x men evolution
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Well, I finally finished Dragon Age: Friendship is Magic and that is *my* biggest regret.
#datv spoilers#great game - nothing but respect for most of the game devs (even if the music was hella bland)#but the writing was atrocious on all fronts imo - plot worldbuilding codices dialogue#and for all this yammering on about “great stories are about change” I'm still 0/2 for the rebellions I wanted to see in this universe#world's been sanitized to hell and back#(and yet funnily enough they still found the time to shit on the Dalish by having them whine about their “responsibility” for the gods)#i did really like all the lore reveals (except the ILLUMINATI) but hated how they factored into the game plot-wise#there were no believable repercussions regarding faith and society which is just a crime#plus the execution via fetch quest was lame imo#current Thedas deserved better#and this was the first Dragon Age game where I just wanted my companions to stfu more#(grown-ass adults telling me *to my face* they won’t focus on stopping the apocalypse unless I fix all of their shit)#(are you so serious right now)#eh well now I'm finally free to mourn properly#I still love the Dragon Age that was#but in the spirit of change I guess I need to accept that my time as a fan of the franchise post Trespasser is done 💔#veilguard critical
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When you absolutely despise something a lot of people like, and no matter what way you look at it you cannot see the appeal, but you know you can’t talk about it in public or else you’ll get dogpiled to hell and back, so you just kinda sit there frothing at the mouth like this
#spaghetti speaks#minor blood#I know this image is typically used in positive contexts but it felt fitting here too#Also you probably know what I’m talking about if you’ve spoken to me before#The AM speech but aimed toward this one particular series because the rage it causes is GRAHH#it had so much potential#it could’ve been so so good#YOU COULD'VE KEPT THE PILOT PLOT INSTEAD OF INSTANTLY ABANDONING IT IN FAVOR FOR ONE OF THE WORST ROUTES A STORY CAN GO IN#I’m so mad because I WISH I could like it#I WISH I could make art for it- the character designs are fun to draw#but I’m not a fan of it#I have a visceral hatred of the series and its creator#but I’m alone in the opinion#minus my friends who agree with me#but I just#I don’t understand#I feel like if it was made by a bigger studio- people would hate it as much as me#Steven Universe was written significantly better than it- I’m sorry#SU got so much shit for years- this is praised everywhere I see#I could explain every single problem I have with this series and people will defend it#it’s so popular despite nothing being resolved or making sense#The people behind the studio were revealed to be shitty to employees but no one cares because this series got a new episode#GRRRRRGHGGHH#I hate the characters- I hate the nonsensical plot- I hate the plot holes- I hate the villain- I hate the wasted potential#I’d hijack this series and make a Snoot Game type thing if I could- my autistic ass will make this better#I'm not arrogant I’m just saying the writing is on the floor and it doesn’t take much to just fix it up and make it pretty#I’m ranting#sorry#I’m very passionate about things like this#Inorganic killers
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Whatever Man and Whatever Sword
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#season 1#wei wuxian#lan wangji#jiang cheng#lwj gets so fired up about wwx disrespecting his swords name#I suppose its like taking the lord’s name in vain. It being a ‘spiritual sword’ and all#god you knnow that if wwx continued as a cultivator he would have pissed off people for his laisser-faire attitude#maybe it was always in the cards that he was to be ‘twink to be obliterated’ of the century#maybe if he took things seriously he would notice he’s about to be dragged underwater!#of all the scenes I cut/could have done a comic on#the subian name bit in the audio drama was 1) very funny to me and 2) it does have some significance later on#i sure do oscilate wildly between thinking about plot vs thinking about parody#ah well; this one was fun to draw. Hands are still kicking my ass#maybe because i’m drawing them so small? but even in my larger drawing practice im still deep in the wonk zone#poorly drawn hands of mdzs it what they’ll call me
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it never stops being funny to me that people are bkdk antis in the year 2024 like “katsuki bullied izuku!! how dare you ship izuku with him” ??? take it up with izuku he’s is the one pining his ass off for him. I can’t make izuku not yearn for katsuki ??? I’m sorry I have observational skills?? izuku is just like that you think I can stop him??
#bakudeku#bkdk#izuku thinks he’s so blessed to even have an almost normal convo with him and gets all misty eyed thinking about it#izuku stares at katsuki like he’s the light of his life his hero#izuku swoons into his arms and has a pure rage form for whenever something bad happens to him#kacchan v deku pt 2 was him being like I FUCKING LOVED YOU OKAY I ADORED YOU YOU SHINE SO BRIGHTLY I LOVED YOU#like he’s just in love with him he was his first love and then they got divorced#and then they’re slowly coming back together and izuku falls even harder this is simply the plot of the manga#also how dare you be like Stop Shipping and tag the ship like who… are yiu??#some raggedy ass bitch thinks they can tell me what to do with my precious little free time uhhh#maybe go outside and touch grass
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In my quest to keep myself distracted from the temptation of watching leaks I finally started digging into league Machine Herald lore and how come none of y'all never told me league lore is actually amazing wtf
Like not only is jayvik the funniest shit ever with this new context but also Viktor is genuinely very conflicting and my brainrot for him has only increased. Watched a 20 min video and I was actually captivated.
Bro really helped a sad kid by giving him a treat and a brain implant and telling him to go beat the shit out of his bullies. He canonically heats up food with his goofy shoulder arm. Man fell into depression and got even more depressed over the concept of being depressed. He drinks choccy milk. Jayce saw him as a friend and Viktor thought he was "flamboyant and arrogant." I adore him. We are all league Viktor on this day.
#villain arc my ass he's kinda based in a disturbing way#ima start digging into the rest of the league lore because uhh wow#just hold me accountable and make sure I never actually play league it will severely damage my mental health I believe#Why he so sassy too though???#I'm also obsessed with how Jayce is constantly thinking that Viktor is plotting his revenge and gonna jump him any minute#meanwhile Viktor is like oh yeah that guy he was a dick anyway you want a mechanical arm#I LOVE HIM#jayvik#viktor#machine herald#league of legends
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yumeno kanata gentaro
+ bonus process gif under the cut!!
#this art was brought to you by that one theory i read that gentaro's block party song name might actually be his real name#also bc ive been listening to beyond the dream on loop bc it makes me insane#oh my slightly deranged poet......... godspeed always ily 🙏🔥🔥💯💯#rly hope we get to see more of his wack-ass side that isn't trying to be “gentaro” this far into the main plot#anyways i hope i got the mood i was trying for w this piece through ............#was not gonna post it yet but ive stared at this for like 90 hours total so . off you go 👋👋#hypmic#hypnosis mic#gentaro yumeno#fanart#character art#made by me :))
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Adopt a Jock Part Four / Part Five P 1 YOU ARE HERE / Part Five P 2
As always I own my soul to @chalkysgarbagefire and Hayley for helpin out with this one!
The problem with D&D games was that the drama room was only available on specific days.
As in, the days Hellfire was scheduled as a club for, much to said club’s distress.
This led directly into the second issue Hellfire faced--finding a place to host them all when they wanted to do something as a group outside of the main campaign they played.
(At least anything D&D related, with all of the screaming, ranting, and frantic dice rolling that came with it.)
Gareth knew Eddie had been lying through his teeth when he'd try to pitch Steve's house as a Hellfire hangout. Accepted that they’d never get to use all the sweet, sweet space Steve was known to have as much as he’d accepted Steve himself.
It was a lot, after all. Particularly when Eddie’s one-shots were known to last a good chunk of the day.
Once again, Steve had proved them all wrong.
(“We can use my house.” were five words not a single person at the table had ever expected to hear out of Harrington’s mouth, and it showed in the shocked silence that followed when he actually spoke them.
“What?” Steve asked, as six pairs of eyes stared at him. “Space is the problem right? So my house is the perfect solution.”
“Are you sure dude?” Grant asked hesitantly. “You know this one-shot isn’t gonna be a like, two hour thing, right?”
To their surprise Steve just gave him a flat, almost dead-eyed stare in return. “I’ve hosted the kids at my place before. Believe me, I am well aware.”
“As long as you’re absolutely sure…” Jeff had added, and could only roll his eyes when he got a sassy response from Steve.
Gareth of course, caught the way Steve kept seeking out Eddie’s eyes, as if hoping to make their oldest friend smile simply by offering up his house.
He didn’t even need to look to know it was working.)
It had taken some creative thinking (and a few wild excuses) to finangle things so that he could show up to Steve's literal castle of a home before anyone else without alerting Eddie but he'd managed it.
It was in fact, looking to be the highlight of Gareth's month.
Possibly the year, if they managed to pull off the little plot he had cooked up.
“I still don’t get how this is a prank.” Steve said, as Gareth prepped him before the others arrived.
"Trust me. If Eddie is anything, it's a jealous bitch." Gareth replied, seated on one of the countertops. "We dethrone him and he's gonna make an ass of himself for the next week. It'll be hilarious."
"I fail to see how that's different than usual." Steve grumbled as he bustled about.
Upon arrival Gareth had found him elbow deep into making cookies and what appeared to be themed cocktails, among several other bowls full of snacks of all kinds.
There was even little finger sandwiches, the kind that absolutely looked homemade, and Gareth would have teased him about that except he’d instantly stuffed two in his mouth.
("I won't be able to host since I'm playing, so I just want everything done before anyone comes over." Was Steve's explanation, when Gareth did manage to get out a few teasing quips.
With the proud lack of manners so many teenage boys possessed, Gareth talked right through his mouth of food. "God you’re a dork. How the hell did you get popular?"
"Shut up Emerson, you're wearing two jackets." Steve snipped in response, as if he didn’t look like the poster boy for Nordstrom.)
"Don't bring logic into this." Gareth continued, as he tried to snag some cookie dough.
Steve smacked the back of his hand with a spoon.
"Get a bowl and a spoon if you're going to eat the dough!" Steve grumbled at him, already bustling to get said bowl and spoon himself. “God you’re worse than Eddie. And the kids!”
Gareth waited until Steve turned before he stuck his tongue out at him. "Whatever you say, mom."
He got an over exaggerated eye roll in response.
"Anyway, the point is you're gonna witness something we'll get to tease Eddie about for years." Gareth said, as he watched Steve dole out some dough.
"You get to watch the little hamster on the wheel that powers Eddie's brain lose its shit and cause him to do something really stupid.” He made grabby hands for the bowl and spoon, and tucking in delightfully the second Steve handed them over.
Steve himself treated the entire exchange like he was feeding a particularly vicious and wild animal, making a show of yanking his hands back like Gareth might just go for his fingers. "I just don't understand why the thing you wanna fight about is cuddling."
"Bragging rights. The jokes we can make. The fact that your thighs look like they were made out of clouds, take your pick man.” Gareth counted off, in-between bites of dough.
"Clouds?" Steve asked, tilting his head.
“Big muscley clouds, Harrington. Also Grant’s here.”
Steve blinked. “How do you-” He asked, right before the sound of a car with an engine far too loud pulled into his driveway.
“He drives an absolute piece of crap. You ride in that thing one time and you’ll be able to hear it coming for the rest of your life.” Gareth explained, as Steve peered out the kitchen and down to his front doors.
(Plural, because he had two.
Gareth had never felt more judged by slabs of wood in his life than he had when he’d walked through them.)
"Last chance to bail, Stevie.” Gareth teased. “I won't hold it against you if you call it off mid-show though."
Steve didn’t answer for a moment, too busy disrobing from his baking apron—a bright yellow and red garment that practically swallowed him whole, complete with an embroidered ‘Claudia Henderson’ over the right breast. The embroidery gave rise to a few questions but Gareth decided to save them for later.
"No, something this fucking weird has to have a story behind it and I want to witness the fallout.” Steve finally replied, before rushing out of the kitchen.
He ripped open his front door, right after a knock echoed loudly throughout the house.
“Shit! What the hell man, were you just waiting to do that!?” Stewart yelped, prompting Gareth to snicker quietly and Steve to apologize.
Like the wealthy housewife he’d been no doubt raised by, Steve went through a whole spiel as he ushered Stewart and Grant in, pointing out bathrooms, letting them know where the game was going to take place (the giant fuck off table that looked like it should be hosting some kind of high-stakes negotiation instead of a bunch of nerds) and where they could put their things (into a closet dedicated to just guests.)
The trio of Eddie, Tiffany and Jeff arrived next, the latter two having been roped into helping Eddie haul his “D&D To Go” bags around.
Steve started his little host speech over, much to Gareth’s amusement, fluttering about and entirely forgetting about his cookies until the oven dinged, causing him to swear and rush back into the kitchen.
“Dude, breathe.” Gareth told him, almost done with his bowl. “It’s a D&D game, you don’t gotta go full out for us.”
“I just want to make sure everyone has a good time.“ Steve said with a shrug. Like none of the effort he’d gone to, was a big deal.
“Careful Harrington, say stuff like that again and we’re going to start thinking you enjoy hosting us.”
“Shut up Gary.” Steve said, setting his cookies on a cooling rack. “And put that bowl in the sink!”
Gareth jumped off the counter, trying his best to remove the shit eating from his face.
He failed entirely.
xXx
As far as pranks went, this one required quite the set up.
They couldn’t do it in the beginning of the D&D game--too obvious, and too easy for Eddie to call bullshit.
Doing it at the end wouldn’t work either. Eddie would know they were trying to rile him up and would no doubt find a way to ruin it.
Years of being Munson’s best friend had afforded Gareth the knowledge that this was going to have to be split in two parts, and the first part, the setup, started now.
Slowly. Methodically.
In a way that wouldn't spook Steve, or trigger Eddie's sense for trouble.
Gareth began by selecting a seat as far away from Eddie as possible, knowing his lovestruck idiot friend would be pulling out all the stops tonight in order to impress Steve (and get him to keep playing, of course.)
Sure enough, as soon as Eddie was done setting up he crooked a finger in Steve's direction.
“Harrington you’re here, next to me.” Eddie flashed him his most award winning grin, the one that said he was up to trouble in that charming, ‘aren’t I just a charming ol’ rogue?” sort of way.
“I made you a human fighter, just to start you off." He continued, as Steve took the seat next to him. "You can always make your own character later if you don't like playing this class, but I made this set up as straightforward as possible.”
“Human fighter huh?” Steve said, glancing down the sheet. “Okay.”
“You have any questions, you just ask. I promise I won’t bite. Not for your first time anyway.” Eddie winked, dipping in and out of Steve's space as he did so.
“Dude, I am begging you to please stop saying shit like that.” Jeff said with a long suffering sigh.
“No.” Eddie replied promptly, sticking his tongue out.
Steve just ducked his head to hide his smile.
A harsh clap halted any further response, as Eddie settled back into his seat and dipped into his DM narrator voice.
"Alright my little adventurers! Are we ready to begin?" He looked around as everyone looked towards him, the energy shifting instantly in the room.
Eddie grinned gleefully. "Perfect. You all wake up at an Inn, with no memory of how you got there…"
A story was quickly spun, one of mysterious memory loss and a sense that the group needed to stay together. Introductions were given once everyone came into the tavern of the inn, cut short when they were interrupted by a lone barkeep.
“Is the barkeep a human?” Steve cut in.
Eddie paused, temporarily thrown, but nodded encouragingly. “Yes, he is actually!”
Grant and Jeff both went to open their mouths, no doubt to tease, but Harrington beat them to it.
“Okay, I roll to fight him, or whatever.” Steve said.
“I--what?” Eddie asked.
“I roll to fight him.” Steve repeated. “Oh and my character screams “Death to humans!” before he attacks.”
He sat back with a smug little grin, and watched as Eddie froze in surprise, while Grant and Stewart's jaws promptly hit the floor.
“Harrington, you menace.” Tiff cackled, delighted.
Eddie just threw his head back and laughed.
It set the tone quite nicely for the rest of the one-shot.
xXx
“Grant, why are you looking at me through a fork?” Steve asked, about thirty minutes into the game.
“I’m pretending you’re in jail.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Grant, whose character had to physically carry Steve's fighter out of two altercations he started, just gave him a flat look. “It’s spiritually healing.”
"Hey Jeff." Gareth asked quietly, as banter was traded. "I'm catching a hell of a draft over here."
Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?"
"Switch me seats?"
Jeff rolled his eyes, but gave in easily enough.
"Fine." He said.
Gareth did his best to keep his grin off his face.
Step one, complete!
xxx
"You come upon a door." Eddie said, sitting deep in his seat while steepling his fingers. "It's a normal door, unremarkable in every way except for two things."
Groans filled the room, startling Steve.
"Oh god, not again." Stewart moaned, raking his hands through his hair. "I can't do this again!"
Eddie's grin merely grew. "The first odd thing you notice is that the door has been put into the wall at a tilt."
"I'm gonna kill him." Tiff snarled, writing something frantically in her notes. "Munson is a dead man walking."
"What is happening?" Steve asked, glancing around.
"The second thing is that you recognize this door." Eddie's grin was Cheshire cat-esque, smug in the chaos he was causing among his friends. "It's the same door you saw at the beginning of this adventure, leading into the room the Innkeeper asked you to stay away from."
"We're boned." Grant announced, throwing himself dramatically back against his chair.
Gareth made his own dramatic, frustrated noise, banging his fist on the table.
The full glass of soda next to him wobbled dangerously.
With a cough, he made another loud "ugh!" smacking his fist down a second time, closer to the glass.
As intended, it spilled all over Tiffany.
"Dude!" She exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards and jumping up.
"Oh shit Tiff, I'm so sorry!" Gareth gasped.
It was hard to keep a straight (albeit very sorry, least Tiffany hit him with her papers) face, but he managed.
Barely.
"You got my shirt wet you dick!"
"Here, switch it with this." Gareth stood, unwrapping the red and black checkered sweater from his waist. He offered it up with an apologetic face as Tiff snatched it out of his hands with a glare.
"I'll switch you seats too!" He called as she stormed off towards the bathroom.
Jeff and Grant both stared at him with raised eyebrows as Gareth quickly shuffled his and Tiff's stuff around, taking her now sticky chair.
"Maybe we should take a break?" He suggested, trying to act embarrassed when he was anything but. "This whole area needs to be wiped down."
"Five minutes." Eddie conceded. "I wanted one of Stevie's delicious cookies anyway." He stood, putting his arms up in a lazy stretch.
Steve stood with him, leaning over to examine the mess Gareth had made. “We can wipe this down but this wood’s kinda funny, it’s gonna be wet for a bit no matter how much we dry it.”
“Well shit.” Gareth said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the table man.”
Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, the kids spill on it constantly. You are probably going to need a different chair though unless you’re fine with your ass getting wet.”
“Do you have another chair somewhere, Stevie?” Eddie asked, making a show of looking around. “Cause I’m not seeing one. Not that I care if Gary-Berry sits on the floor.”
Steve had several extra chairs in fact, but he and Gareth had hidden them all away before anyone else had arrived.
“I used to, but Mike broke two.” Steve said, and Gareth found himself insanely impressed by the improv on display.
He hadn’t thought Harrington had that level of acting in him.
“If you’re okay with sharing though, the chair’s are big enough that we can kinda squish together.” Steve continued, completely ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes about bugged out of his head.
“Only if you’re sure, man. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” Gareth put on his saddest, ‘I dun fucked up’ face, and shuffled his feet a little, just for dramatic effect.
This was the performance of a lifetime and Gareth wanted his Grammy after it, because he and Steve had planned the entire thing right down to the shared chair bit.
“You’re not, Dustin does this constantly.” Steve replied easily.
“Or we could just put down a towel.” Jeff said, with a look on his face that said he thought everyone in the room was a fucking idiot.
Gareth could’ve strangled him.
“That’s probably a smarter idea.” Steve agreed, like the traitor he was. “I dunno if that’s gonna work for your papers and shit though, so you can just hedge into my space.”
Which wasn’t what Gareth wanted, but he had to give Steve props for the quick thinking.
At least it was just a minor setback.
“I’ll get a towel.” Jeff continued, and at least they all got to witness the look that graced Eddie’s face upon realizing that Jeff of all people, knew where Steve kept his towels.
xXx
"What the hell else can we do to try and open the door!?" Jeff snarled a while later, slamming his pencil down.
They'd tried multiple different approaches and so far nothing had worked to set off whatever trap Eddie had set up. Something that made their DM absolutely delighted, while frustrating everyone else.
"I still don't get why we can't just try to turn the knob." Steve complained, staring in confusion at the absolute riot Eddie's "completely normal" door had caused among the rest of his party.
"Do not touch that door Harrington!" Grant bellowed, pointing at him.
Steve raised his hands in the air placatingly. "Easy, easy, I was just making a suggestion."
Gareth, wedged as close into Steve's space as he could get, tapped his fingers on the table twice. It was the little code he’d come up with to alert Steve that he was about to do something to piss off Eddie related to the prank (mostly, so Steve had a heads up Gareth was about to touch him, not that Gareth had spun it that way when he’d explained it) before patting Steve’s shoulder, hooking his elbow on it and leaning over. “Not gonna lie man, it’s not a bad idea. We’ve tried right about everything else.”
He could feel Eddie's eyes burning a hole in his skull from here and he delighted in it.
“Do not encourage him.” Grant said through gritted teeth.
Gareth leaned his face on the arm perched on Harrington, his hair tickling Steve’s cheek as he tried to look as angelic as possible. “I couldn’t possibly know what you mean, Grantman.”
He was flipped off in response.
xXx
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Stewart howled, and even Gareth’s jaw dropped when Steve finally gave in and tried to turn the knob--only to succeed and swing the door open.
“Well Munson? What happens to him?” Tiff said, having refused to call Eddie anything but his last name since the door had first appeared.
“Nothing.” Eddie practically purred. “I told you, it’s a totally normal door, and the only weird thing about it was that you recognized it and that it was put into the wall a little tilted.”
“Fuck you dude.” Stewart practically growled, balling up the piece of paper he’d been doodling on and flinging it towards their DM. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck. You!”
“No thank you.” Eddie replied cheekily, twirling a finger in his hair.
“We spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to open a regular door.” Jeff said, clearly processing. “An hour.”
Eddie just shrugged, shit eating grin plastered across his face.
Gareth once again tapped his fingers twice against the table, waited a moment, before banging his head gently against Steve’s shoulder. “I hate him.” He groaned.
After a long moment, Steve gently, if not a little awkwardly, patted him on the head.
“There, there, Gary. We defeated the door in the end.” He said calmly.
Gareth laughed, absolutely delighted. His head jerked up and a grin crossed his face as he immediately looked to see what Eddie made of that.
Pure murder, going by the face Eddie poorly tried to cover.
Perfect.
xXx
“With his last few moves, Sir Carrington-”
"I refuse to let that be my character's name.” Steve interjected, as he had every time Eddie brought up the name they’d apparently argued over. “If I have to figure out how to change it legally in your dumb game I fucking will."
Eddie didn’t even look in his direction.
“--Sir Carrington leaps into the air, swinging the sword of truth. It cleaves right through the Innkeeper, revealing him to be the dastardly villain you’ve heard so much about, Tareth the Trait. He’s gained an unusual amount of power after stealing the Inn from the former Innkeeper--”
“Really bro?” Gareth said, sending Eddie a flat look. “Tareth the Trait?”
“--With this final blow, Tareth collapses to the ground, dead. The Inn returns to its prior form, a safe haven for adventurers, instead of a trap.”
“Shut up guys, we did it!” Stewart said, throwing his hands up in a victory pose.
“Not gonna Eddie, I liked the twist.” Tiff complimented, a rare thing from her.
“Thank you, thank you.” Eddie stood up, sweeping an arm across his chest as he bowed. “Give yourselves a round of applause as well, especially for our dear Steven, who just completed his first D&D game!”
A cheer went up, causing Steve to flush red.
Gareth pretending to drum, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s much the way he had seen Eddie do as Steve sent an embarrassed smile around the room.
“We should celebrate.” Jeff said, as the chaos finally died down.
“I conquer, Jeff the Chef!” Eddie hollered, putting his foot on Steve’s chair. “Stevie-boy, you gotta have some good stuff around here for those big basketball wins!”
“Get your foot off the chair, Eds.” Steve groaned, but stood up (forcing Gareth to get up as well considering how far he’d been leaning into Steve’s space.) “And yeah we can order like pizza.”
“Pizza and beer?” Grant suggested.
“Oh my friend. I can do better than that.” Steve replied, a flash of his old, charming self coming through. “Allow me to raid my father’s liquor cabinet.”
“Hell yes!” Grant yelled, pumping his fist.
Tiffany rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, and neither Gareth noted, did anyone else.
Which was exactly what he wanted, because he hadn’t managed to land the perfect ending he and Harrington had planned.
Gareth would make it into Steve’s lap tonight, even if it killed him.
(Or worse, even if Eddie got there first, a thing that may very well happen considering Eddie was clearly annoyed with how Gareth had been hogging Steve.
Just as intended.)
SOME NOTES: I don't play d&d so writing it always requires a lot of research. Several pieces here (like the human fighter bit) are based off of/stolen from memes, videos or stories I read. If I fucked it up thaaaan idk squint and pretend its right LOL.
This one doesn’t have a bonus because I had to split Chapter Five into two parts. This is Part One, it’ll be one chapter on A03. It just kept going.
Also Adopt a Jock is officially going up ON A03 so I will no longer be accepting tags ( Ch. One is already uploaded I’m just struggling with the summary lol. I will make a post and link it to my pinned post when it’s up.) I will still be updating here since I am only updating chapters on A03 as fast as I can edit them, which is not fast at all, so I imagine the next few chaps will be here before there but eventually shits gonna even out, so those who did not get onto the tag list can subscribe to the A03!
Finally, Sorry this took so long, I have a prior ongoing medical issue and getting laid off fucked up my insurance. Had to cram in some procedures before it ran out. Long story short all I've done is sleep, go to a doctor or rant about one of the two lmao. Legit slept 18 hours yesterday ahaha k i l l m e
#this is more of an intro to lap wars than lap wars itself#but Part Two turns into Drunk Movie Night Sleepover Time so you bet your ASS lap wars is coming#Gareth continues to be both a gremlin#and a g#steddie#pre steddie#slow burn#steddie LOL#gareth emerson#Eddie Munson#steve harrington#0o0 fanfics#this chapter fought me#ngl I actually extended this whole fic out bc I wanted to write more hellfire shenanagins before the summer hit#and thus Robin and the S3 plot that I'll be messing up LOL
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look I love my boy carmy DOWN and I want him yo be happy and healthy and find love. I also believe he needs to be INSANELY jealous of Luca being with syd, syd spending her free time with Luca, bringing him to the restaurant and shit, and not being able to articulate WHY
#the bear#sydcarmy#sydluca#like I just need a jealousy plot idk what to tell you. it would be so delicious to ME#also. if we have to suffer Claire’s unseasoned ass making Sydney jealous#I’d like to be compensated with hot good listener Luca sweeping syd off her feet
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Girl help I wish to travel to different dimensions just to watch a movie/show I really like a little to the left
#years of dreaming on it#OR WHEN A SHOW IS CANCELLED LIKE FUCK YOU#give me me ending even if i have to rip it out if the multiverse hands#but sometimes i just wanna see more of characters interacting together just give me uncut 50 hours version of them#rn it's#deadpool and wolverine#and i wanna know#final space#ending already#and a better#supernatural#ending. and my cancelled gems like#infinity train#inside job#the midnight gospel#lego monkie kid#BUT FRAME MY FRAME FLYING BARK I MISS YOU SO MUCH BBY PLEASE COME HOME wb did a good job but my obsessed ass want eye candy lego animation#our flag means death#I WOULD GIVE MY BLOOD FOR THAT SEASON 3 THEY WERE SO STUPID AND UNFAIR TO CHANCEL IT#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#BELOVED BELOVED BELOVED come backkk mm and you can coexist#oh and let's not forget. what the world would look like if the trollhunters movie didn't SUCK ASS horrible movie -7383/10 DELETE#i can go on all day i have been done wrong by many cancelled shows😭#neh what's up with everyone doing multiverse🙄 don't they know i was making these stuff up since ehh before spiderverse came out forsure🙄🙄#/j#but I really didnit was like my go to plot for falling asleep i hade self insert lore and universal police and empty space and cool shit
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