#reminder that zombies in this AU are actually Just vampires! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kozzax · 4 years ago

Text

so recently the folks over at @petrichormeraki have been working on a silent tommy au because of a few asks talking about mute!tommy. and one of the things that’s canon in that au is the fact that xisuma is the only mortal hermit. i took this as free reign to work out why each of the other hermits is immortal. some of them are gods, some of them are demigods, some of them are supernatural beings, but none of them (except xisuma) can be killed through feasible means.

because of the sheer amount of immortal hermits there just to live out immortality in peace, i like to think hermitcraft is sometimes referred to jokingly as ‘the retirement zone’ by other immortal beings. most mortals outside of hermitcraft wouldn’t know the hermits are all like... gods and shit.

hermits + their immortality under the cut because oh god this was supposed to be a fast post but i accidentally wrote... a lot. whoops!

Grian is a watcher. He was a watcher before he joined hermitcraft. That’s... just. Canon Grian Lore TM. Not much to explain with him.

Cleo��and Joe are both immortal by virtue of no longer being capable of being mortal. As both of hem are undead beings (cleo a zombie and joe a ghost), killing them again isn’t... possible. In addition to this, at some point during their afterlife, they managed to gather enough power between the two of them to be labelled as the “Twin Gods of Life and Death”. Which one is life and which one is death? That depends on the day.

Cub and Scar are definitely not gods. But the deals the two made with the Vex are almost more of an insurance on their immortality. The Vex protect their ConVex as a dragon protects its hoard. Not only can the two of them hold their own in a fight, but their respawn is insured by the fact that even if they were to permadie, the Vex would bring them back anyways.

False is the Queen of Hearts, Heads, and Body Parts. She’s also a vampire. In a similar vein, Ren is a werewolf. Both of them can only be killed through very specific means, and neither can die of old age. Throughout their many years in the worlds, they’ve gathered tons of skills and allies. Although now they’ve both stepped down, content to enjoy their peaceful lives and chill out in Hermitcraft, each of them was once a ruler of their respective factions. The ‘queen’ part of False’s title was never just a title.

Etho was granted immortality by a council of gods, after they took a liking to his interesting antics and kept an eye on his longstanding worlds.

Doc, BDubs, Beef, and Etho (again) were all brought to Hermitcraft as the last ‘mortal’ members to join. The general idea was that maybe they could give Xisuma some company and relief from the antics of his immortal and godly friends. This did not happen. Instead, the universe decided it was going to give all of them godly powers in their own right. Etho himself may have been immortal, but he and the rest of the NHO all grew infinitely more powerful after leaving the jungle of season 5.

Stress is a dryad. She can control and warp the nature around her in strange and beautiful ways. In addition to this, were her body to ever get fully destroyed in a way that would prevent her from respawning, a new body would instead form for her out of the nature wherever she died. This is how ice queen stress came about in season 6.

Impulse actually bullshitted his own way into immortality. Where most of the other hermits were either brought into it by someone else or born into it, Impulse actually discovered the secret of immortality while he was trying to figure out how totems of undying were made. He now knows how to create totems and how to become immortal, though he won’t tell anyone else if they ask. Part of the process of creating totems involved...

...Tango, who is a demon. As a demon, his powerset includes but is not limited to both pyrokinesis and an affinity for very very large and very very deadly animals. He doesn’t use those abilities on Hermitcraft often, but they’re in his skillset for sure.

As a byproduct of the immortality, Zedaph showed up in the current timeline. His immortality is... strange, because it’s not technically immortality. Zedaph, as a person, is mortal and can die. Zedaph, as a being, though, is one of billions of Zedaphs in the universe; each of whom is nearly identical to the others; and whenever one Zedaph dies, he is replaced instantly with a new Zedaph; a functionally identical Zedaph to the one who died. Nobody’s quite sure how this process works, but Zed claims it’s through “time travel”.

Jevin, as a slime, can actually inhabit any portion of his slime that he wants; no matter how small the amount. Even if he were limited to one singular molecule of slime, he could still exist around that molecule and regenerate slime until he was fully present again, though it might take a little while for him to complete that process. The only way to kill Jevin is by fundamentally altering the chemical makeup of every single molecule of slime he’s ever had anywhere. It simply won’t happen. He does use his abilities to get out of conversations, if he’s feeling particularly annoyed at the time.

TFC is potentially one of the most interesting hermits, in his prior responsibilities. It’s easy to forget that he’s not mortal, considering how frighteningly average he acts in his day to day life. One peek into any of his bunkers, though, and you’re hit right in the face with a bold reminder. TFC used to be one of the gods responsible for shaping the very worlds players would walk on; more specifically, he was in charge of cave systems and mineshafts for a long time. He’s retired from that life and is having a lovely time in Hermitcraft, just vibing.

Wels gained his immortality through a deal with the patron god of the kingdom he grew up serving. He made this deal as a young knight and watched for decades as the kingdom grew and prospered, Wels himself known far and wide as quite probably the best warrior of them all. After being dismissed honorably by the kingdom, as he’d been protecting them for many decades now and the rulers honestly felt he deserved a break, the god he’d made a deal with finalized this immortality. He joined Hermitcraft not long after, and has taken up a spot doing his part to protect the hermits.

Iskall was somewhat of an enforcer, for the gods. Were a god to be acting particularly out of line, Iskall would be called in to bring them to the council for trial. Sometimes his targets came peacefully, sometimes he’d have to use force to bring them in. No matter what he had to do, there wasn’t a single target he missed. He both can and will kill a god if he must. Technically, Iskall’s still on call, but generally councils don’t call on him unless absolutely necessary anymore.

Hypno made a deal with a god many years ago, trading his mortality for the ability to see hundreds of thousands of alternate paths for the future. He wanted to chronicle them, and he still spends one or two days a week writing out winding paths of the future. When he’s not working, he wears his bandana to cover up the third eye that allows him this insight. This helps him focus on the now, rather than the futures that may or may not be.

Xb is an eldritch being with reality warping abilities. He has them under fairly good control, most of the time. They really only become an issue when he gets too much pent-up magical energy at once; examples of this being things like season changes. His season 7 base is built around what happens when he needs to release. It’s a post apocalypse world, and the apocalypse was him.

Mumbo is definitely both magical and immortal, but the specifics of his powers are incredibly unclear. The hermits know it has something to do with redstone, maybe, and that the unpredictability of Hermit Challenges are a reflection of his strange and confusing powerset, but nobody’s really sure where his immortality stems from. Every time you ask him he gives you a different answer. The mumbonis are all different joking theories as to where his powers came from.

244 notes · View notes

lazyneonrabbitt · 4 years ago

Text

Night shifts.

Daryl Dixon x Reader Werewolf AU

You are new to the prison and Rick takes you on your first night watch shift. When something catches your eye he sends you after it. When you wake up the next morning you discover things you would have never guessed were real.

Running from walkers was not how you wanted to spend your first week alone after months of being with a group and to be fair, you were done. You were close to passing out from dehydration when you made it out of the forest lines and onto a highway, spotting a gas station to hole up in only a minute away. running in and barricading the door with your last bit of energy, you passed out almost immediately after.

"Hey, we're here!" Glenn called out to Maggie when they passed the treelines and went onto the highway where Rick had sent them. "That old place? Are you sure there's stuff left in there?" Maggie wasn't sure about it all but at least there weren't any walkers around it it'd be easy to check out and be gone without wasting too much time. They tried the main doors but they wouldn't budge, like they were locked down from the inside so they went around to check for another entrance. With a little effort they managed to take down the door in the back and went in to scope out the place and listening in for any walkers and finding none. They felt relieved when there wasn't a fight to prepare for and started digging through what was left of the supplies in the back room, making their way to the front, towards the blocked front exit. As they expected they found nothing useful in the small gas station, but when they rounded past the last supply rack they found something they weren't expecting.

"You think she's alive?" Glenn wondered, slowly stepping forward to check for any injuries but found none. "I don't know, doesn't look like she's turning so I guess not." Maggie replied as Glenn was already close enough to shake her. As he did so, she jolted awake and unsure of anything that was going on. Maggie had her gun readied at her side and Glenn moved back to a safe distance. "What the hell?" Was all you could groggily manage to speak. The two of them asked you a few questions that you barely managed to answer and were given some water when you regained enough consciousness to move at least somewhat well again. Thanking them you asked why they were here and they explained they were just looking for supplies and the place seemed to be abandoned. "We could ask you the same, though." Glenn chimed in. You told them your story of being alone and running from walkers for a while before eventually ending up here and passing out, how you hadn't eaten anything all day and drank your last bit of water this morning.

When they finished clearing the place, Glenn and Maggie agreed to take you with them to the prison where their group lived. On the way there, which took longer than their way to the gas station, seeing what state you were in, they mostly kept quiet about their current living environment even with you asking questions every now and then. It was close to nightfall when you all arrived at the prison and you were stopped by a man in a sheriff's hat. Immediately on you and not letting you take another step onto the property after answering his questions. He sat you down and talked to Maggie and see what info she had on you ans so she repeated everything you had told her, getting approving nods from Glenn who was keeping an eye on you while also reassuring you Rick was less scary than he currently came off as.

After all the talking you were allowed to stay under constant surveillance. This only lasted a week, after which you were allowed to roam around on your own and were set on shared watch with Rick so he could teach you all their ways in case walkers would breach the fence. During the early hours of the night nothing much happened and you had to admit the view of the forest edge looked nice under the moonlight. From time to time you heard a walker rustling through nearby bushes but Rick reassured you to was nothing to worry about until they would start to pile up on the fence. After a long stretch of silence you saw something run across the field and you shoved Rick's shoulder to make sure he'd see it as well. The moment he looked it ran out of sight towards the other side of the building before emerging on the other end again after a short moment. This time Rick saw it as well and sent you towards the fences to go check it out. You ran from the watch tower towards the edge to check out whatever it was that you saw but you couldn't get a clear look at it so after a minute of walking back and forth across fence you decided to go through them, you were armed after all.

The thing was near the treeline and wandering around, seemingly not noticing you watching it. When it ran off you were so intrigued that you followed it out into the woods, not giving a single thought to what you were even following or all the other dangers out there. you followed the thing for a while, getting a better look at it and seeing it resembled a large dog of some sort. Honestly it only reminded you of your favorite monster movies you always watched back in the day, but that was all just suits and CGI. You loved those movies, zombie movies were cool as well until you suddenly all started living in one of course. But that was different, right?? No way other monsters were real as well. you weren't gonna run into a group of murderous vampires living as cannibals, but this creature in front of you did look an awful lot like a werewolf, and not even a small one. while it was hunched over and on all-fours it still reached almost to your shoulders.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't watch your step and tripped over a branch, causing the creature to jump up and tread towards you. As you got up you couldn't take your eyes off it, afraid it would jump you so you backed up until you hit a tree. You were stuck between a large tree with no branches to climb onto, and a huge, murderous, and now that you saw it up close, clearly werewolf.It snarled at you, getting closer to sniff the air and snapping its teeth at you only an inch away from your face.This was gonna end bad.

Back at the prison, Rick was slapped across the shoulder by Maggie. "Did you really just sent the new girl after him? Are you insane?" She whisper-yelled at him. She had been awake and saw you run into the woods after he had snuck out. "Trust me, if you saw how he's always starin' at her, you'd do the same thing. He's not gonna hurt her." The two of them discussed their views for a while with Maggie being totally against the whole idea and Rick feeling like he did a great job. "Come on, Maggie. There's no way he's gonna do anything to her. He's been staring at her like a lovesick puppy ever since they first talked." Rick tried to convince her again. "And you have to admit that she tries her hardest to be around him and actually gets along with him pretty well." He was right, Maggie had talked with her from time to time and it was clear that she liked being around him. Whenever she didn't have any tasks for the day she'd always tag along on hunts with him and she'd be the first one at the gate when he would return from an early morning run to see if he needed to be stitched up. "Fine, I'll give ya this round. But if she gets hurt, you are the one who tells everyone what happened." She jabbed her finger at Rick's chest to make her point that much more clear and returned to watch the horizon for any movement.

Both stared into the distance in peace until they caught movement out in the field. "See? Told you I was right!" Rick called out while Maggie grabbed a pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "That's not a deer in his mouth, Rick." She spoke softly as she shoved the binoculars into his chest, urging him to take a look. It was indeed him who was walking back onto the property, probably on his way to his usual hideout. He followed his steps and tried to focus on what he was carrying that according to Maggie wasn't a deer. "Oh shit." He let out as he lowered the item and rushed off the stairs towards the abandoned back of the building. When he rounded the last corner he had almost caught un with them and saw him now carefully placing you down in the emptied shed, on top of the cloths they had put there for when he'd turn back. The pile of clothes neatly folded next to the door. He deemed the situation as safe and left back to the guard tower to finish his shift.

You woke up before the sun started coming up and were shocked to find out you weren't in the woods anymore. Truth be told you couldn't remember what happened. The creature snapped at you, looking like it was ready to chow down on you and then everything went black. Taking in your surroundings you learned you were in some kind of shed, you were on a pile of fabric and there was a pile of clothes, illuminated by the moonlight near the open entrance. Trying to get up you learned that it wasn't a heavy blanket that was on you, but an extended arm draped over your waist coming from behind you. You quietly wiggled out from underneath the arm and went to investigate. Your first move was to go outside and look where you were. You were at the prison, but on a side of the building you had never been before. After being sure you were at least somewhat safer than you expected you went back inside, passing the pile of clothes again and decided to take a look. There was a pair of boots, a larger size so you assumed they were a guy's, together with some torn and patched up jeans and a shirt with sleeves torn at different lengths. Taking away at the pile one piece at a time, you found something that you immediately recognised. "Daryl?" You said out loud upon seeing his winged leather vest. A low growl came from behind you. You had been so focused on the clothes that you hadn't realised you might had woken up the slumbering beast.

You got up and ran without thinking of it and ended up cornered within seconds, Daryl's vest still clasped tightly to your chest. Eyes wide, you couldn't cast your gaze away from the creature in front of you. Now, on its hindlegs you were able to fully take in it's size. You were even more terrified than before in the forest, this time there was really no way out. You dropped to your knees, hugging the vest of your dear friend closely and cried, begging for someone to hear you and come save you but no sound other than sobs left you. You saw the light shift in your vision and carefully looked up, seeing that your cabin partner had now sat down and was staring at you. Blue eyes staring right into yours before getting back up and crawling underneath the pile of blankets in the corner, completely covering itself except for its tail poking from underneath it all. Every time you tried to take a step closer you were growled at, louder each time until you gave up and sat back down in the furthest corner. Eyes trained on the pile, you saw every small movement that happened and every breath the beast took. Its breathing became heavier and now started to get louder and snarls and growls would come out more and more until another sound broke your concentration and had you jump up a little. It sounded like a bone snapping in half, joined with other nasty snapping and tearing sounds. The pile moved but you couldn't make out what was going on as you covered your ears, trying to block out the gruesome noises until everything stopped moving and the shape beneath the piles had shrunk to half its size. All you heard now was breathing like someone had just ran from a herd of walkers. While everything seemed safe, you were too afraid to move from your spot so you stayed. Sitting there with Daryl's vest still in your hands you waited for the sun to come up and go find your group again. You companion's breathing had evened out and you assumed they'd fallen asleep again. Gathering all your courage you creeped closer to the pile and took in its shape, making out the shape of a person and carefully taking the first blanket away, sadly not revealing anything. The next one only uncovered an arm, lazily thrown over what you assumed was a head still covered in blankets. You sat there contemplating your next move. Were you going to take away another layer or were you gonna leave this one alone and let them wake up in peace?

Yeah, you were seeing who it was that terrorised you throughout the entire night. Taking a deep breath you took the edge of the next fabric and carefully lifted it, but before you could get a look your wrist was grabbed tightly and you were thrown on your back with whoever it was over you, snarling and ready to attack. You let out a surprised yelp as you were thrown down. At least now you could get a good look at who it was, and it wasn't who you expected to see. "Daryl?" You sighed, on one hand relieved he wasn't killed like you thought before when you found his vest. On the other hand completely out of it now that you figured out his probably biggest secret. Did others know about this place? Did they know about him and weren't they afraid?

Keeping your eyes on his you had to try your hardest not to let them wander off when you remembered he was in fact still very naked. "Please," You quietly pleaded. "get dressed.." You mumbled as you covered your eyes with your free arm, making sure you wouldn't see anything and trying to make him feel maybe less uncomfortable.He grumbled something you couldn't make out before you felt him move off you and heard rustling of clothes. "Where's mah vest?" You heard him ask and moved a bit only to feel it underneath you. Sitting up you slowly moved your arm away from your face and relaxed when you saw Daryl was dressed enough to be less distracting at least. When you were about to get up to hand him his vest, he'd walked across the shed and sat down in front of you like he did earlier tonight before he has changed back. "M'sorry." It wasn't much but it was enough for now.

You handed him his vest and stayed quiet for the most part. Not knowing what to say and what could set him off like when you woke him up scared you enough to not talk to him at all except for answering his questions or comments. It took a while for the two of you to get comfortable around each other enough to go out on a morning hunt but after words could be exchanged well enough to make a plan you were good to go. You left through Daryl's secret way out and started tracking a deer that had walked close to the forest's edge. Closing in on it you came across the spot where he had you cornered and almost attacked you, causing you to stop in your tracks and freeze up all of a sudden. The area was nothing special, just a small spot with no low bushes and some large trees. The thing that set you off were the claw marks that were now as clear as day on a lot of the surrounding trees, showing just how much strength was behind those claws. You didn't hear Daryl call for you and you didn't realise he had taken down the deer by now without much of your help in the end. "Hey," He called again, not getting a reply and put a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. "Ya alright there?" He looked concerned at first, but there was something else underneath. You shook your head to get out of your daze. "Yeah I'm good. Sorry." You apologised without really knowing what there was to apologise for. You didn't even realise you had frozen that bad. Daryl looked around him and only now really connected the dots. He let out a sigh as he walked over to you, showing you his hand. "S'normal again now. See?" He held his hand up, turning it so you could get a good look. "I aint hurtin' ya." It was more than just a statement to him. This was a promise he was going to keep no matter what would happen from now on. You accepted his words and agreed to move back to the prison with your freshly hunted deer.

After you both finished your morning routines, Daryl walked over to your cell, asking you to follow him outside. The two of you walked back to the shed behind the building and sat down to talk properly this time. It wasn't that you were scared anyone, it was more of an anxious 'what if' feeling that kept gnawing at your thoughts. How were you gonna be sure he wouldn't get angry at a wrong question or what if you couldn't agree with something he insisted was right? "Hey," was all he said to get you out of your thoughts again. "Yer almost panicking here. Ya still scared of me." It wasn't a question but more of a statement and truth be told, he was right after all. You were scared of your friend and you had no idea how to change that. You didn't want to be but the feeling was still there, it kept eating at you that there was a chance that you'd do something wrong enough for him to snap. Being unable to stop those thoughts, the tears joined rapidly after. You didn't know what t say or how to even stop crying but you knew that letting out the emotions was a good way to show that you had no clue how to handle all of this and needed the help. Daryl wasn't sure what exactly to do but he knew that touching you wasn't going to help. He had brought his pack and dug around for some leftovers that he didn't finish before turning last night and offered what he found. You accepted the food and kept in in your lap, being unable to eat anything while you were still crying. You mumbled a thankyou and moved over to Daryl, dropping yourself onto him and letting him know you were okay with him getting closer and you weren't afraid of him touching you when he wasn't angry. Daryl was surprised with this turn of events, it was a turn for the better at least. "Can ya tell me what's up? Cus' this shows ya ain't scared of this me at least." He didn't want to pry but he had to get at least something out of you now that you had some privacy. You were still softly sobbing but it had gotten less already. Taking deep breaths helped to calm down, and having Daryl's arms around you now in a protective manner was really getting rid of most of your fear. "You scared me last night." This was the first time Daryl had to go through something like this. Yes, he had to tell others in the group about his issue and it ended in Rick almost shooting him during a full moon before Daryl saved his life, and Carol hadn't spoken to him for days after she saw him turned but she came to his cell on her own to apologise and accept him for what he was. He also hadn't attacked either of them. Not that he really touched you, but he scared you enough for you to pass out, and again afterwards in the shed enough to make you cry almost twice.

"I ain't hurtin' ya, ever." He said again, hoping to convince both you and himself because truthfully he had no idea if he was ever going to hurt her if he wasn't in control."I like you. This is all new." Small sentences were your way to go for now and Daryl accepted that immediately. He nodded and hummed in approval of your confession, hugging you a bit closer and moving to sit more comfortable. "I like ya too. Tha's why ya ended up in that shed." You let out a huff of laughter at that, making it sound like he had some other plans if you hadn't passed out. "Ya I was gonna tell ya all this, but now ya saw everythin' already.." He wanted to talk, but he had no clue where to go at all, nothing that he wanted to say felt like the right words so he opted for a question. "Wha'cha think of all this?" He motioned at the shed and the cleared off area and himself as well, hoping that your answer would spark some more conversation and solutions.

Sighing, you thought hard about your words. Some things popped into your head and before you could lose your thought again you spoke. "I'm good with it. You're good and you're you and you kept me safe, you know." He did know. He knew he kept you safe last night, but the words that hit him the hardest were the ones no one had told him before. He was still him, even if he looked different or had a second nature that could be dangerous, he was still him. "Thanks for tha', girlie." You were regaining your smile and laughed. "Yeah, my friend's a dog. what's your story huh." You joked laughing out loud. It was a sound Daryl had heard before when you and Carol were on tasks together and laugher would fill the prison hall. He couldn't get enough of it.

"So, yer okay with bein' here with me? Gotta admit ya kept me calm last night." He now wasn't looking at you but at the ground and you were sure you could see a small blush creep up on his face. "Daryl," You turned in his lap so you could look at his face properly. You took his face in your hands to make sure he wasn't going to look away. "I'll stay with you for as long as you need." You made your statement as clear as you could possibly make it, hoping he'd understand everything behind those words. "Hell, I'm just gonna say this now before I lose the courage.." You took a last deep breath and just went for it. "I've kinda wanted to ask you if you'd want me as your girlfriend, but all of this happened before I got a chance to but you have to know I still want that, even after learning all of this."

Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh happily and pull you close to him, nuzzling your cheek and accepting your request with more glee than you had ever seen on him. "I love ya." He admitted finally, kissing your cheek to not overstep his boundaries in true Daryl fashion.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #twd daryl #imagine #x reader #twd fanfiction #fanfic #sometimes I write

124 notes · View notes

rubykgrant · 3 years ago

Text

I’m gonna write out little high-lights of my RVB Monster AU for Halloween reasons~ Things happen in a mostly normal-world modern setting, but obviously with monsters/fantasy creatures and such. Things plot-related happen almost the same way, but some stuff is earlier/later, shuffled around to work for my own purposes (so some of the key moments still happen, but occasionally in a different order). Here is the beginning, which as always, starts with two morons asking a big question-

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“Well, that’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?”

The two men were standing on the rooftop of an old warehouse. The building had gone through several owners, being used as a storage facility, a garage for fixing up cars and various vehicles, a shipping business, a veterinary clinic for large animals and livestock, a recycling center… and possibly some kind of drug lab at one point. It was none of these now, but if a stranger saw the inside, they would assume the new owner was a combination a mechanic/pet doctor, using the left-behind equipment (and considering how shady everything appeared, a stranger would also probably assume this was a front for yet another drug lab). It was still none of these things. In truth, it was much stranger.

One man stood slouching with the late-afternoon sun on his back. The other was leaning against a vent that came out of the roof, in the shadows. He had a red long-sleeved button-up shirt on (despite the hot temperature), and black jeans. His shirt was neatly tucked-in, and his matching red hair was trimmed short in what was decidedly a “going to a job interview” style. His eyes were two different colors. Once, they had both been a soft brown, but now one was glass, the color of the iris some kind of magenta… or maroon. The other eye (the one that was still organic) was a golden-yellow. He looked like somebody who had gone through a growth-spurt some years back, and still hadn’t settled into himself; too lanky and gawky for his own good.

His companion in the sun was a little shorter, and considerably larger, but completely at ease with his shape and his weight. His skin was mostly a warm copper brown… but he had several patches of mis-matched skin tones on his left side; around his eye, his chest, his arm, his leg. Each area also showed several scars, signifying that it was the result of surgery and skin-grafts. His dark brown hair was parted in the center, falling down around his shoulders in long curls, and stubble on his chin. His eyes were so dark, they almost looked black. He wore an old faded baseball shirt (once white with orange on the collar and short sleeves, now a dingy-peachy color), and loose gray jeans that were worn-out at the knees. They were quite the odd pair, opposites in many ways that were obvious (and more that were evident in their interactions), yet it was clear they were used to each other’s company.

“Why ARE we here?” the man in the sun continued, answering the question from his friend in the shadows. “I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a god watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night…”

“WHAT?” the other man stood up a little straighter, but remained behind the vent. “I meant why are we out HERE, in broad daylight? Sarge KNOWS it’ll burn me, and there’s not even anything for us to do! The only reason he sends us out to keep watch is because there’s that building over there he thinks is haunted, but we can’t see anything from here… and if there WAS anything going on over there, like ghosts or whatever, they could definitely see US! We don’t have any cover on the roof, but whoever might be over THERE is hidden behind the windows!”

“Oh… uh, yeah…”

“What was all that stuff about god?”

“Nothing,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

They both decided to just skip it, and move on.

“But seriously, why ARE we out here, and why does Sarge care about that building so much?” the taller man waved his arm, gesturing to the building in question.

“I guess he wants to try catching ghosts next, or something?” the shorter man shrugged.

“Then we should just GO OVER THERE, right?”

“Pfff… nah, are you kidding? Just standing around, looking at a building? This is the easiest job I ever had,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Grif, you- OK, first of all! This isn’t a JOB, we aren’t getting paid! Second, you don’t even remember most of your life before a few months ago, you have no basis of comparison!”

“Fair point, but come on Simmons… seriously? What job could I have possibly had that would be easier than this?”

From his spot in the shadows, Simmons looked away for a moment, thinking.

“Hmm… well, I remember reading about people being paid to take part in sleep studies. You just nap and keep a dream journal, or whatever…”

“Oh man, are you kidding!? I WISH that was my life!” Grif kicked at an old rusty can, causing it to fall off the roof. “Instead, here I am, stuck in this stupid building, in this stupid town, in this stupid canyon-”

“Where we have to look at a potentially haunted building, at random intervals, day and night…” Simmons added.

“All because Scruffy the Vampire Slayer is paranoid!”

Despite himself, this caused Simmons to snort laughter. Grif grinned, pleased that his pun was appreciated.

“Even if that building IS haunted… it doesn’t seem like something bad, you know? I never see anybody running out of there screaming bloody murder. If we just ignored it, what would happen? Nothing. It would just be a boring building with boring ghosts, and we’d just be another boring building with boring… whatever we are,” Simmons leaned once more on the vent, glaring up at the sky that was still dangerously bright.

“I think monsters sums us up pretty good,” Griff suggested.

“Right, monsters who don’t do anything. Over there are ghosts who don’t do anything. Whoopty-fucking-doo…”

“You gonna actually SAY that to Sarge? Hmm? Gonna finally stand up to him, use your big-boy voice, and tell the crazy old man you don’t wanna follow orders anymore? Is this beginning of your rebellious phase?” Grif reached over, shoving Simmons lightly on the arm.

“Well… no… but! I’m gonna remind him that me being outside in the day is a bad idea! YOU should get the day shift, and I should get the night shift. It just makes sense,”

“Aww, but Simmons… then we wouldn’t get to spend quality time together, having all these deep and meaningful conversations!” Grif gave him a look of fake-concern, like he was hurt and might start crying.

“Oh, right. I forgot. We’re philosophers discussing the secrets of the universe, life’s great mysteries, right?” Simmons smirked.

“Exactly… like, if you could only taste one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? No matter what you ate, it has the same flavor?” Grif asked.

“That’s a stupid question for a vampire, man. Everything I eat DOES have the same flavor now. It all tastes like blood, because guess what? I have to drink blood. Because I’m a VAMPIRE,” Simmons shook his head.

“No, but I mean, if you could magically taste something ELSE, whether you were drinking blood or eating a salad, or whatever, what would you pick?” Grif pressed on. “I’d want everything to taste like chocolate. Milk chocolate. That’s my favorite, and I’d never get sick of it…”

“Jeez… it would’ve been impossible to get you to chill out if you tasted chocolate every time you tried to eat a person!” Simmons replied, remembering how it had been with Grif when they first found him.

“Yeah, I don’t know what those other zombies were on about… brains and human flesh is GROSS. Chocolate, though? MMM, I could do the zombie-shuffle-walk for days to get some good chocolate,”

“Uh-huh, and that’s EXACTLY how we caught you!” Simmons almost reached out to return the arm-punch, but managed to hesitate and stop in time… Grif was still in direct sunlight, and Simmons would get scorched if he left his little patch of shadow. Grif seemed to realize this, in that quiet and easy way that caused both of them to somehow pick-up each other’s habits. Grif leaned over to nudge Simmons with his shoulder, and they both laughed together.

#red vs blue #rvb fic #monsters #vampires #zombies

21 notes · View notes

tintinwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Poe Dameron Imagines Masterlist

I haven’t made a masterlist in a while and some people have asked for one!!

Series:

fifty ways to kiss someone (has NSFW chapters)

love (Modern)

the stars were made for falling

tonight (has NSFW chapters)

a friend in me (has NSFW chapters)

the light side | one two three

soft | one two (Modern)

arranged | one two (1800′s AU)

provocative | one two (Professor!Poe)

captain dameron | one two (Pirate!Poe)

a stranger in paradise | one

please never fall in love again | one two (Bartender!Poe)

phobias | snakes heights blood draws claustrophobia the dark/power outages spiders thunderstorms

not while i’m around | one (SVU AU)

you will be found | one (Zombie Apocalypse AU)

what kind of fool am i | one two

forbidden fruit | one two (NSFW) (First Order!Poe)

first series | first commander first time (NSFW) (First Order!Poe)

forgive me, please forgive me | one

out of my dreams (Modern)

the fallen soul | One (Priest!Poe) (Regency Era)

One-Shots:

Smut

hypnagogic: You can’t sleep, so Poe suggests another activity.

Fluff

ineffable: You and your husband, Poe Dameron, are captured and need to escape.

quixotic: Poe is always there for you when you fall which happens often.

dulcet: You don’t want to make friends in the Resistance, but Poe is gonna try anyway.

contentment: The war is over and you and Poe have a daughter who wakes her father up at night because you fell asleep in her bed.

caf: You need caf and Poe took the last of it.

benevolent: You and Poe try to do some things in a closet and are brought in for a talk with Leia.

redamancy: Finn and you apparently love each other. Except you don’t and a certain pilot has a problem with all of this.

Angst

eccedentesiast: Poe is hurt during a mission and just wants to see you smile.

eunoia: Poe imagines you freeing him as he’s being tortured by the First Order.

latibule: You comfort Poe when he has a nightmare about the First Order.

desideratum: You express to Poe how much the war is affecting you mentally.

the wasted years (Modern AU): You go to see the Phantom of the Opera and find yourself relating to the title character.

Poe singing Dean Martin (Modern AU): Poe sings Everybody Loves Somebody and the two of you dance.

gli occhi belli

figure

pour some sugar on (NSFW)

requited (NSFW)

something stupid

characters witness their baby’s first laugh (Modern)

character introduces their baby to their pets (Modern)

bloodlust (Vampire!Poe)

enceinte

alone

romance

dawn

c’est lui pour moi

i’ve got my love to keep me warm (Modern)

insatiable

mistletoe underwear

procrastination

but beautiful

if you are but a dream

you are not alone

i never before loved life so much

the story of a starry night (1950′s AU)

so this is love

hold my hand (NSFW)

the beach

ignorance then bliss (NSFW)

pretty moon

reader meets Poe’s corgi (Modern)

perfection (Modern)

i do, you know

how you might have met Poe (Modern)

forget about the boy

you don’t have to convince me (Regency AU)

sympathy, tenderness

melts in your mouth (NSFW) (Modern)

ghosts would be preferable (College AU)

you can see me? (Ghost!Reader) (Modern)

the sky is blue (Soulmates AU) (Modern)

with only a word (Modern)

and then they are bored of me

mr. pilot

everything else goes away

“Shit, are you crying? I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

Christmas sweaters

have yourself a merry little Christmas

the arena

rain

try to remember

entitled

some enchanted evening

reunited and it’s kind of awkward

wisdom? (Modern)

breathe, baby (NSFW)

bondage and discipline (NSFW)

yes, general (NSFW)

“How would you like to have a sexual encounter so intense it could conceivably change your political views?” (First Order!Poe)

they’ll never believe me

when love is all that i recall (NSFW)

sweet mystery of life (NSFW)

“You know, hiding one’s face behind a mask only works for Ren and his Knights.” (First Order!Poe)

“We all have our reasons, love.” (First Order!Poe)

“For a spy in hiding, you’re making a lot more waves than I expected...I like it.” (First Order!Poe)

“Well, we’re both stranded, so you have no choice but to work with me, sweetheart.” (First Order!Poe)

Poe taking you over a small desk (First Order!Poe) (NSFW)

“Sweetheart, panic as much as you like, but you can’t hide what you want from me.” (First Order!Poe)

Poe hates your daughter’s boyfriend of course

Poe singing to his little son (Modern)

till there was you (NSFW)

“I’m sure the Resistance can’t give you what I can give you.” (First Order!Poe)

A, B, C (Modern)

sanisteamy (NSFW-ish)

above ‘em

Poe holding you

a table for two (Modern)

“You can’t just take the X-wing whenever you want, young lady!”

Road trip with Poe and your kids (Modern)

“His finger was right on the trigger, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“We need to understand that we did love each other, but that wasn’t enough.”

Reader dominating Poe (NSFW)

First Order!Poe taking you against the wall (NSFW)

“If you hurt her...” (First Order!Poe)

“I can’t believe I got the first date, let alone a year.” (Modern)

the drop (Modern)

“I can’t believe we’ll actually be parents in a few days.” (Modern)

“I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen.”

“Well, I’m not in school anymore, but you could teach me too, if you’d like.” (Modern)

“I just want to take my time with you.” (First Order!Poe)

“You’re all I have too, you know.”

that reminds me of you too (Modern)

please say you’ll think of me (Modern)

it was a pretty good bad idea, though (NSFW)

Headcanons:

being married to Poe (Modern)

domestic Poe x Reader (Modern)

Poe teaching reader how to dance (Modern)

deciding with Poe not to have kids and then wanting them later (Modern)

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #masterlist

4K notes · View notes

palimpsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Medieval History AU

for @carryonthroughtheages

For my piece for the medieval era, I took inspiration from illuminated manuscripts.

(Please click the image for better quality.)

Read more about the piece below the break.

I want to first say a huge thank you to @bazzybelle for organizing this event and also for just being a really great human. ILY! Despite the fact that I of course left everything to the last minute, I have had a blast working on my two posts and can’t wait until I have time to actually look at what everyone else has done.

About the artwork:

This is a haphazardly researched piece at best.

I initially planned to simply do a group drawing, showing the gang dressed appropriately for their places in my medieval AU. I had that sketch sitting around for months and never felt inspired. Then I started to think about how I could adapt my arsenal of art supplies to give the effect of something more suited to the time periods. And then I thought about a lovely comment that someone made on one of my drawings, that it reminded them of an illuminated manuscript. And then the book art nerd in me was activated. Thus, I spent the next week pulling references from various illuminated manuscripts that have made it online in some form or another over the years. Next came the design. I wanted to find a way to still include the whole group, but a simple line-up no longer made sense. I wanted to make SnowBaz the focal point, for obvious reasons, but I found a way to include the others in insets, as some full page illuminated manuscripts depicted smaller scenes around a central idea.

I knew that I had to include at least one dragon for Simon and somehow reference Baz's vampirism. Monsters appear all over illuminated manuscripts, after all, and I saw no reason why they shouldn't be in mine. Vampires in medieval folklore were different to the way we think of them now; they weren't living people who turned into blood drinking creatures, but rather reanimated corpses. These revenants are usually depicted as some variation on a rotting corpse or skeleton. I decided to stick with our modern understanding of vampirism, because I'm not wholly sold on the zombie thing. A skull and some rats chilling around it probably gets the point across, and ties in Baz's years in the Catacombs, which definitely still exist in this AU. Also, I see medieval Baz as a minor feudal lord of some kind, which plays into the classic vampire metaphor. Simon is a former knight errant who gave up his questing days once he faced the reality that perhaps he wasn't all that different from the monsters he hunted.

The vessel at their feet, which sits over flames, is a crucible. Because of course I was going to include a crucible in my medieval AU. The crucible is an ongoing metaphor in Simon and Baz's story, and I wanted to carry that motif into my piece, too. I based the shape off a couple different depictions I found that related specifically to alchemy. Alchemy is all about transmutation, rather fitting for two half monsters who continuously challenge the roles they've been assigned. (One of the crucible drawings I found even had a tiny dragon looking down the spout and blowing fire into the vessel!)

The alchemy theme continues to the top right corner, with a green lion eating the sun. This is a very common image in alchemical texts, a metaphor for vitriol purifying matter, which would then leave behind gold. Next to the green lion is Agatha, who finds far more to interest her in making friends with unicorns than in the attentions of any courtly suitors. The larger panel in the center shows the castle, the hub of medieval life, inspired by the look of Watford as depicted in the map at the end of Carry On. This version of Watford is also protected by a moat filled with merwolves, because they are exactly the sort of unholy beast that would appear in the marginalia of an illuminated manuscript. (Maybe the Mage got the idea of the merwolves from one of the "four-hundred-year-old texts" he dripped gravy on.) Stars fill the sky, because we all know how important those are. On the castle's other side is Penelope, bent over a parchment in a room filled with thick books, living her best scholarly life, now that she's retired from life as Simon's shield bearer. She and Shepard are both modeling the latest trend in eyeglasses, which is to say, the only trend, because that was cutting edge technology back in the day. (Would either one of them have had access to that kind of fancy tech in their respective positions? Idk, but they have unicorns, and flying sheep, and merwolves, and dragons, so let them see is all I'm saying.) Shepard is, if you couldn't guess, a shepherd, because I had to. But he's still a nomad at heart, and this new flock was acquired in a rather secretive deal during his last adventure. Lastly, the slogans on either side of Simon and Baz are the Google Translate Latin equivalents of: "Magic separates us from the world. Let nothing separate us from each other" and "Light a match inside your heart, then blow on the tinder." (If you can actually read my writing, and you actually know Latin, and these aren't correct, just pretend that they are.)

Illuminated manuscripts were usually embellished with gold leaf, and my budget version is metallic gold marker, which I used sparingly throughout the piece for fire and other objects of note (though it's probably hard to see in the scan).

That's all, I think. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!

Bonus! Process shots;

207 notes · View notes

platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Tanning Rock

Harringrove April prompt 28, Tanning--Creatures!AU (This one grew to nearly 6k and I’m so sorry) @wasting-time-again HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, HAVE A MERMAN! XD

The lawyer who summoned Billy—about an inheritance, he said—was...weird. Straight out of a movie, with long incisors and a cravat, and he steepled his fingers as he talked.

Max said he was probably actually a vampire, and Billy agreed—which was weird, because as far as Billy knew, his mom’s family wasn’t exactly old money, and it was hard to imagine a vampire getting on a plane to fly clear to California and summoning him to a crypt full of file cabinets, all just to read a will about his mom’s collection of surfing stickers and pile of old National Geographics.

Billy knew his father had disowned him, so he bit his lips together, waiting to hear that his mother had died.

“I am here about the estate of your grandmother,” said the vampire lawyer, and Billy drew a shaky breath of relief. “Your mother was disowned—” he said, and Billy almost snorted a laugh—like mother, like son, he thought, “—and so her domicile has passed to you.”

“Wait, what,” Billy breathed, wide-eyed.

“It is an unusual case,” said the lawyer—Fangun and Stayk, est. 986, read his card, but Billy wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Fangun or Stayk, or whether the whole thing was a joke yet, so he kept his mouth shut. “You will take ownership of the house and land, however, you may not live there—that is, not year-round, not unless you are given an invitation by a resident. It is a closed community.”

“...can I sell it?” Billy asked, and the deepset eyes of the lawyer stared back at him, bloodshot and dry.

“At well below market value,” he said, steepling his fingers again. They made a dryish noise. “As I said, they dislike outsiders. And a stranger will be even more of an outsider than you, in whom runs...the blood of the place.”

Billy wondered, dully, whether he’d inherited a haunted graveyard, or a den of werewolves, and groaned into his hands. Maybe he was part zombie somehow. Just his luck. “Where is it,” he sighed.

“It is not on commonly available maps,” said the vampire, and Billy nodded. It figured, he thought, though his ears perked up considerably when his grandmother’s lawyer laid out a map of Hawaii.

They got a ride from the shore on a fishing boat at four o’clock in the morning. “It’s barely tourist season yet,” said the fisherwoman, showing Max how to steer. “There will be a ferry, in a week or two, but I can give you two a ride out the day your visa’s up if the ferry quits sooner.”

“We want enough time to look around,” Max said, glancing at Billy. They’d let their lease run out, and sold most of their things, because a few orange crates of records were a small price to pay for never running into Neil Hargrove around town. “You could get a job on one of the normal islands,” Max had suggested, quietly, over and over. “If they don’t like us enough.”

Billy’d never suggested moving Max so far away, but she’d assumed they were going, and after a while he went along with it. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, getting a job in a hotel somewhere after the islanders threw him out. Max would probably love it, in Hawaii.

A fresh start, she had said, and it sounded good.

He and Max were greeted by a woman in a wheelchair, who stamped their passports. “Technically, we’re a different country,” she said, smiling. She had very brown skin, and looked contentedly half-asleep in the sun. “You’re the only visitors on the island, for a week or two,” she said, cocking her head. “We’re not always in a big hurry to scrub up the ferry for the summer. We love the money, but the tourists...” she laughed, shaking her head. “Three-month pleasure trip visa. Have a nice summer,” she said, waving them away.

Her benign lack of interest lessened Billy’s initial fears that he’d inherited membership in some rich, yoga-pants-wearing, white Human Superiority cult.

The house was traditional-ish, with a grass roof and walls, big open windows with no glass, only shutters, and a wide shaded veranda all the way around. It looked over a beach with rolling waves, and Billy couldn’t wait to get his board out there.

“I’m gonna look around the house,” Max said. “See if I can find any neighbors. Maybe I can bring them cookies.” She set her jaw, frowning around at their luggage, and the scattered pillows. “Maybe we can buy some furniture somewhere.”

“...we can always just come here for summers,” Billy told her, breathing it in.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have a great time getting a tourism job where you don’t work summers,” Max said, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, and Billy realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that she expected him to figure it out. Find someone who wanted him to stay, here, on the island, at his grandmother’s house.

“I’m no good at making friends, Max,” he reminded her, and she snorted.

“Better get out of my hair, then.” She folded her arms, taking another deep breath of the smell of grass in the sun. After a long moment, she looked back at him again. “...we’ve got a little over three months, Billy.”

He suspected it sounded longer to her.

When he wandered down to the beach, Billy could see someone’s tanned shoulders lying across a jutting rock about fifty feet out, and he paddled a ways towards it on his surfboard, getting the lay of the ocean. There was a rip tide, dark and eerily quiet, to his right, but the rest of the beach had shallow, warm, clear waves over white sand and coral until a dark dropoff about fifty feet out where the rolling waves began.

As he paddled closer to the rock, he could see the man on it—asleep, Billy thought, just lying in the sun as the waves lapped at his skin. As Billy drifted closer, paddling with his hands, he could see a long-fingered hand hanging in the water, and he paddled faster, suddenly wondering whether the man wanted to be out on a rock, or whether he was a Dude In Distress, his leg cramped, needing a ride to the beach on Billy’s surfboard and a trip around the boardwalk, and maybe some shaved ice.

As Billy approached, the guy opened his eyes, frowning over at Billy with wide, half-awake brown eyes. He pushed himself up on the rock with his arms like the goddamn Little Mermaid, Billy thought, amused. His throat went dry watching the flex of muscle, and the water droplets where the dude had lifted himself out of the bay.

Billy paddled at random, a little, unable to tear his eyes away. He cleared his throat. “Just, uh, making sure you didn’t need any help,” he said, staring at the tanned arms and swimmer’s chest in front of him, nearly triangular, like a superhero. “I, um. Guess you’re fine.”

The guy raised his eyebrows, starting to smirk, and then his eyes widened, and Billy realized in a flash of blue and foam that he’d drifted right into the fucking rip tide. Right in front of the gorgeous dude on the rock, Billy thought in the back of his mind, trying to hold onto his surfboard and let the rip tide take him wherever it would. Just his luck, he thought, dying because he was so damn gay he saw nice shoulders and his brain switched off. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to breathe before he got sucked down, and his lungs and sinuses were starting to ache worse than the rest of him, even as he was buffeted around against his board, when an arm slid around his waist.

He wanted to yell at the guy—and he did, in an explosion of bubbles—because what the hell good was it gonna do, swimming into a rip tide, but the muscles against his back and butt flexed, and they were moving sideways out of the rip tide, and then Billy’s head was above water. He gasped and choked, coughing up half the sea. The ocean moved soothingly around them, as this dude had no trouble holding Billy up, and Billy tried to clear his throat and eyes.

“Have you seriously never seen a tail before,” the guy groaned, hauling Billy along like he was no more effort to lift than a little kid at the pool. Billy felt rock against his thigh, suddenly, and scrambled onto it, coughing and wiping his eyes to see he was on the jutting rock the dude must have jumped off of, to save him.

“How-how fucking humiliating,” he gasped out loud. “Can’t believe. C-can’t believe I fucking p-paddled into a rip tide.”

“You drifted back into the...yeah,” his hot rescuer said, still in the water, with one hand on the rock to hold him steady as he frowned at Billy. His voice sounded a little odd—Billy was reminded of the Chinese grocery by his house, where their English was perfect, but they had a lilt as they tried to speak an atonal language with a tonal ear. Up close, he was even prettier, with moles Billy wanted to track down his neck and shoulders, and a doubtful, scrunched-up mouth Billy wanted to kiss.

“Sorry,” Billy wheezed, still coughing. “Sorry, I’m such a moron, sorry.” He tried to keep his eyes above the water level, but some part of his brain kept looking for tanned legs kicking under the surface, and he suddenly registered that the moving colors weren’t just fish and anemones. “Holy shit,” he coughed out. “You have a tail.”

His rescuer frowned harder, probably worried Billy had brain damage. “I figured that’s why you swam into the rip tide,” he said slowly, and Billy shook his head, groaning.

“No—fuck, I’m sorry, you—you’re just hot as fuck, I’m just a moron, I’m—damn it,” he sighed. “Sorry, jesus, I’m so fucking rude, sorry, I just didn’t notice, I was like ‘How the hell did he get me out of there? OH!’, sorry,” he muttered, sighing. “...drown me.”

“I am though, right,” the merman said, grinning, “—hotter than you,” and Billy realized he’d found the only person on the island more annoying than he was.

“Yeah, yeah, just laugh at the poor gay moron who nearly drowned staring at you, that’s nice,” he huffed, lying back against the warm rock to catch his breath.

“Was it love at first sight?” asked his rescuer, and Billy opened his eyes to glare.

“Shut up, asshole,” he grunted.

“Just asking,” his tormenter asked. “Are you gonna pine away, sighing over me? Hey, d’you think you’ll always do that? If I swim over in town, you think you’ll fall off the boardwalk?”

“Fuck you,” Billy told him, leaning his face in his arms and laughing. “Yeah, probably, you shithead. Are you gonna...follow me around? So I can look like more of an idiot?”

“Mmm, can you though…” the gorgeous merman asked thoughtfully, and Billy growled into his arms, feeling his whole body warm. He blamed it on the sun. “Why,” his rescuer asked, pulling himself up to laugh against Billy’s ear. “—you want me to follow you someplace?”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned, laughing harder. “Are you afraid to leave me alone now? What if I try and eat my surfboard?”

“...are you gonna?”

“Maybe?!” Billy told him, then pushed himself up, frowning around to look for it.

“I’ve got it, it’s right here,” the smug asshole told him, waggling the surfboard in the water. “Want me to take you back to shore?”

“No!” Billy laughed, sighing. “I’m going surfing, just because I nearly died making an ass of myself doesn’t mean—”

“Hrm, maybe I should keep an eye on you.”

“Why,” Billy asked, then pitched his voice just a little lower. “You like what you see?”

“I could get used to it,” the merman said, and Billy started to preen, but the dickhead finished with “—kind of a comedy special, kind of thing,” and Billy reached over and smacked a big splash of water at him.

He laughed, his throat arching back, the gills along it thin dark lines that Billy fantasized kissing around.

Just as Billy was considering grabbing the surfboard and using it as a weapon of blunt force trauma, the merman leaned in close, his smirk widening around pointed teeth, and his cool, salty lips pressed firmly against Billy’s. Billy made a weird gulping noise in his throat, and the asshole started to pull away, but Billy leaned in, and fell clean off the rock. His weight dunked them both, and they rose sputtering and laughing, Billy held securely in his merman’s arms as his surfboard floated away. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“...my name’s Billy,” he panted.

“...Steve,” the mer-dickhead said, raising his eyebrows, like it was weird to want to know his name.

“...I inherited a house here,” Billy told him in a rush, drunk on kisses. “I’m from California. My mom used to talk about this place when I was a kid. Surfing here. With her mom.”

“...is she here?” Steve asked, steadying them with one hand on the rock, and glancing back at the beach.

Billy laughed, shaking his head. “Fuck, sorry, you don’t need to know my shit. We can make out. You’re short-circuiting my brain.”

“...I should probably get your surfboard,” Steve told him, grinning, but he leaned his head in again, gentle with his sharp teeth, and Billy inhaled shakily as the points grazed his lips and tongue.

“Jesus,” he whispered, once he could talk, and then he licked his lips and wrenched himself away to swim after his surfboard, just so his smug rescuer wouldn’t have to fetch it for him. The waves got bigger as he got out to where the trees weren’t acting as a windbreak, and he clambered up on his board, glaring back as Steve wolf-whistled.

When he let the tides pull him back towards the gorgeous merman on the rock, he lost his mind again, telling him his tail looked like a peacock butt, and Steve cracked up, grinning at him.

“...so, neighbor, you have to win someone over enough to invite you to stay,” he said, cocking his head.

“Yup,” Billy told him, pointing up at the house he’d inherited, built into the hill, the old grass vacation cottage blending in with the trees.

“And your method is to tell me I look like bird ass,” Steve continued, and Billy grimaced, waving his hands.

“No! No, I don’t—I know people have to get to know you. Here. I’ll…” he sighed. “I’ll try for a few months and see what happens. If nothing...clicks, maybe I’ll try again next summer,” he said, grimacing, and wondering what Max would do, if they weren’t allowed to stay. Leave, maybe, he thought—she was seventeen, and she could get a job herself.

He ended up teaching Steve to surf, after showing off his best efforts. When he swam back, panting, Steve looked properly impressed, and even more tanned. “Teach me,” he said, and Billy leaned in to kiss him again, nodding.

“That gonna get you to like me enough to let me stay?” Billy asked, and Steve frowned at him, but Billy laughed, and leaned in for another kiss.

“Tomorrow?” Steve had whispered against his lips, and Billy got no sleep at all that night, he just rolled over every couple hours to check the clock, and see that another two minutes had passed.

Steve was fascinating to watch on the board, his tail trailing as he controlled it with his hands around either side, his abs flexing as he held himself in a kind of plank pose with the support of his tail. Billy watched, and realized he was drooling.

“You like me enough to keep me?” he asked that night, teasing, and Steve laughed.

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

Merpeople—or at least, Steve, Billy corrected mentally, realizing he was dealing with a sample size of one—loved bread. Like a cat, Billy thought, watching Steve eye his croissant, or bagel. He started just bringing one every morning for Steve, and some coffee, and it was hilarious watching the fluffy flesh of a croissant dangling between Steve’s shark-like teeth. He waited every morning, and even though Billy wasn’t sure whether Steve was waiting for Billy or the bread he was carrying, he got heart palpitations every time he came down the ramp to the dock, and he could see the little lump of Steve’s head on his folded arms, the rest of him hanging off into the water.

“A few bagels aren’t enough to win me over,” Steve told him, and Billy’s stomach twisted, a little. He wished he hadn’t brought it up, kind of—the knowledge that he might have to leave hurt, like a sore tooth he couldn’t stop worrying at in his mouth. “Maybe more croissants,” Steve said, smiling, and Billy brought him more croissants.

When they’d arrived, they’d discovered the town was filled with mermaid stuff, and at first, Max and Billy had snickered at it, because surely even if there’d been a merperson or two living near a human town once, they’d died decades ago, or they just traded with fishing boats, far out at sea. They hadn’t considered the amount of people in wheelchairs, or the spray bottles close to hand.

When Billy suggested he bring lunch down from town, Steve swam over to haul himself up—his tail flashing in the light—through the bottom of one of the little sheds on the dock. Moments later, he banged the door open, wheeling out in an old rusty wheelchair. He spun it in a circle, waiting for Billy to climb out of the water, and then zipped ahead up the ramp to the path.

“Wait up, jesus,” Billy yelled after him, and Steve laughed, the muscles in his arms mesmerizing as they spun the wheels. He slowed down eventually, panting, enough for Billy to jog and catch up. “...lemme know if you want me to push,” Billy told him, and Steve snorted.

“Touch my chair and die,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Billy said, holding his hands up, and Steve laughed.

“It makes me…” he squinted, thinking. “...seasick…?” he offered, and Billy nodded, trotting along next to him.

“Motion-sick, probably,” he suggested, and Steve mouthed it as he rolled along.

The lady at the shaved ice stand leaned out and folded her arms on the edge of the little window, laughing at Steve. “You know they make those that work!” she called, and he flipped her off. “They don’t have to be electric! They make ‘em that just move smoothly.”

“It’ll just rust in my shed,” Steve told her, shrugging. “It’s fine.” As they waited for their tacos, Steve pulled up to a table, and his rusty, janky wheels kept rolling backwards, until Steve sighed and bent down to stuff some rocks under there.

“My friend Robin and I went in together on a nicer one,” he said, “—but I can’t park it in the shed. This one’s not so bad,” and Billy’s perception of it shifted a bit—maybe it was more like getting stuck with an old beater car occasionally, instead of something Steve needed help with. “...want to wander around, after?” Billy asked. “I haven’t got any souvenirs yet.”

Steve paused, then licked his lips. “Planning your trip home already?”

“...dunno yet,” Billy said, the invitation unspoken between them. It seemed ridiculous to want to stay so badly just because he’d met a pair of gorgeously tanned shoulders and a teasing smile, but it also wasn’t...hard to imagine, lingering on the island to go snorkeling with Steve, and learning about the reefs—he’d absorbed enough for a few semesters of marine biology, he was fairly sure, but told as stories, just off-handed things Steve had seen—and Billy was already wanting a drysuit, so he could go in the fall. Maybe Billy could get a job on a fishing boat, he thought vaguely, or help out in one of the shops.

If Steve would invite him.

Steve had slid his hands under Billy’s swimsuit a few times, pressing him back on their rock, or on the docks, rocking into him as Billy panted and gasped and fell apart under his hands—but he never said anything, after, and Billy hesitated to ask whether it was...anything, to Steve. Maybe he picks an idiot every summer, he thought, watching Steve smile at the depictions of mermaids on every surface of every shop on the main street.

“You all spend so much time keeping everything dry and dead,” he said, grinning over at Billy, who’d been anticipating a comment on the mermaid’s hourglass-like proportions, not her lack of water damage.

“...oh,” he said.

“I have a figurehead like that, but covered in anemones,” Steve said, cocking his head. “It’s beautiful.”

“I mean...you could...plant a vine on it, maybe?”

Steve nodded. “Put it outside in the rain, let it grow.” The lady behind the counter sighed, rolling her eyes, and Steve laughed.

“There’s a whole movement to ‘preserve’ our art,” he whispered to Billy. “Which mostly means they don’t let it become our art.”

“Huh,” Billy said, wondering whether human houses looked like museums, or mausoleums, to merpeople.

“Not to say that I’d pour water on your television set, or drop your mattress in the bay,” Steve said, grimacing a little, and watching Billy’s face. “I get that much.” He looked kind of uncomfortable with the lady behind the counter glaring at him, ducking his head.

Billy leaned to kiss him. He nearly steadied himself on the chair, and then remembering it would roll, and just held his hands away. Steve grinned up at him, particularly at his outstretched hands, and yanked Billy down on his not very much of a lap, hurriedly curling his tail up and around Billy’s waist as Billy threatened to slide down the smooth scales to the ground. Billy threw his arms around Steve’s neck, wide-eyed, as Steve held the wheels firmly, keeping the chair from rolling backwards under the weight of two grown men.

“Let’s go,” Steve whispered, and Billy nodded, breathing Steve’s sun-and-salt smell, and wondering whether it was okay to ask whether Steve would consider inviting him to stay—just until the next season, Billy thought, as the chair and Steve’s tail moved under him. Until the next summer, when he could ask whether Steve wanted him to stay again, or whether he wanted Billy gone.

After staying a whole year, Billy thought he might not have it in him to ask whether Steve was tired of him yet, but the thought of waking every morning to run down to the docks with coffee and banana bread was addictive, and he tried not to think about the end.

Billy ran into the lady who’d stamped his passport, and caught himself staring at her tanned legs propped up on the railing. “Oh, I’m human,” she said, laughing. “But I love it here. I can even shop in the little bookstore, imagine,” she said, and now that Billy thought about it, he realized it had an elevator in the back, and little lifts for the walkways along the higher shelves. “I’ve never had someone offer to lift me into their cafe, here,” she said, her nose wrinkled, and Billy nodded slowly.

“Shoot that thing!” she yelled, when she saw Steve’s awful old wheelchair, and he flipped her off.

“We can only invite a few people,” Steve told him, as they ate noodle bowls. “It’s for somebody you marry, you know, their family, maybe. Or if you leave the island, and have a kid.”

“Yeah,” Billy said softly, hearing the message clearly—invitations were not to be wasted, and Billy wasn’t special enough to keep. He finished his lunch, trying not to feel all butthurt about it. Max would probably understand.

Steve kissed him again, on the docks, and Billy leaned into it, feeling the familiar pressure of tears in his sinuses, and behind his eyes. He had three weeks left, he told himself. Three more weeks. Steve slid a hand up the back of Billy’s head, humming against his mouth, and Billy let himself go soft in his arms.

When they returned to the docks, Steve dug a big beach blanket out, and they spread it out on the sand, and Billy stayed out that night, losing himself in Steve’s warm hands and mouth, under stars like he’d never seen before.

Steve was watching his face the next morning, with a little frown, and Billy pulled away, sitting up.

“Better than croissants?” Billy asked, smirking a little, and Steve sighed.

“Was that what this was? Fucking me won’t make me give you an invitation,” he said. He didn’t look amused, the way he had over the bagels, and Billy wondered whether it had worked, a little. Billy’d always had a talented mouth.

“I won’t know if I don’t try, will I,” he said, laughing. “Maybe another round will help?”

“...I have to go,” Steve said, and he didn’t even fold up the blanket, just pushed himself off the edge and slid over the wet sand into the water, gone in a flip of tail. Billy watched for long minutes to see whether he’d come back—they’d been spending every day together, but probably Steve had stuff he needed to do, all the things he’d done before Billy had shown up at the island, easy with his body and his affections.

Billy folded up the blanket, and sat it in the shed, looking around. There really wasn’t much in there—it was the size of a small bathroom, with some knives for fishing, and a frayed net, and the beat-up wheelchair.

It smelled like Steve, and Billy stood and breathed, his eyes blurring with tears.

Steve didn’t come back, and after an hour or so Billy walked home, and ran into Max returning. “Billy!” she said, with a wide grin. “Nice night? I was out getting breakfast.” She told him about somebody named El, and somebody else named Lucas, and a Dustin.

Max was making friends too, he realized, which kind of made everything worse—she was doing her best, and Billy was just mooning over some guy who thought he was barely good enough for a fuck on the beach. She’d even met their families, he realized, listening, and registered that he hadn’t met any of Steve’s friends. He groaned into the pillows tossed around on the mat floor, and sighed.

“Should I stop seeing him?” he asked, mostly at the ceiling.

“I dunno why now,” Max said. “You’re not gonna find somebody else in a couple weeks.”

“Shit,” Billy groaned again.

“We can try again next summer,” Max said. “I like it here.”

The idea of returning the next summer, once Steve was bored, was enough to make Billy clench his jaw tight against the pillow he was hugging, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. “...yeah,” he said softly.

“God, you sound tragic,” she sighed, wandering over and dropping to sit on his butt. He grunted. “It’s fine, jesus. Worst case scenario we have a, like, vacation home. The vampire dude said we didn’t have to pay taxes on it.”

“Yeah, just pay for plane fare,” Billy sighed.

“He’s out there, y’know,” she said, “—tanning,” and Billy scrambled up so fast he dumped her with a drum noise on the taut mats.

When he swam out, Steve just stared out to sea, and Billy clung to the edge of the rock, biting his lips.

“I’m not giving you one of my invitations,” Steve said. “So stop trying to manipulate me into it.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, kind of wishing they’d never met. “Yeah, okay. Do—is that all, or are you sticking around?”

“I’ll stay,” Steve said, frowning at him, “—if you still wanna waste your time on somebody who’s not—how do you say it? Putting out?”

“...it’s not a waste of time,” Billy told him, swallowing hard. “I just wanted it to last longer, is all—” and Steve’s eyes narrowed intently. He grabbed Billy around the back of the neck, and yanked him into a kiss.

The remaining weeks, he took Billy snorkeling, and they had sex every night under the stars, Billy panting Steve’s name, and Steve holding him so tightly it almost hurt. Billy took him to meet Max, and she eyed him warily, but Billy fought and succeeded at securing Steve a plate of brownies, and he was vocally appreciative. She softened a little, at that.

Two days before they had to leave, Steve was lying next to Billy on the wet sand, the waves lapping up nearly to their waists. His shoulder was warm under Billy’s head, and smelled like the high ocean waves.

“...d’you think you’ll come back next summer,” Steve asked, and Billy snorted.

“Depends on whether I can afford airfare,” he said, sighing. “Depends on whether I can get a job somewhere that doesn’t need me in the summer.”

“...so I might just never see you again?” Steve asked flatly, and Billy laughed, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” he said, “—do you want to?”

“...fuck you,” Steve sighed, and Billy pushed himself up to frown at Steve’s face.

“I don’t know what you want,” he said, glaring back at Steve’s narrowed brown eyes. “You wanted me to shut up about staying. What am I supposed to say?”

Steve bit his lips together, and looked away. “...you know I’m gonna give you an invitation. You can just tell me.”

“What,” Billy whispered, scrambling to sit up, his heart pounding as Steve flopped over to scrabble around under his wheelchair, his tail flapping around a little in concentration, like a cat’s. He held an envelope out to Billy without even looking over.

“There,” he said. “All yours.”

“What,” Billy breathed, and then he half-crumpled it, opening it clumsily. “You—you’re giving me one?”

“Two,” Steve said, flatly, frowning down at the sand under his hands. “You and Max, right?”

“Holy shit,” Billy whispered, scrambling over to kiss him, once, then twice, relishing the little noise Steve made in the back of his throat when his lip slid between Billy’s teeth. “I have to go tell her,” he said, half laughing, his vision blurring with tears.

“Okay,” Steve said, quietly, and Billy hugged him before scrambling up and running back to the house.

Max stared at the two calligraphed invitations on the odd plasticky “paper” the merfolk used, written in Sharpie, and shook her head slowly. “You did it,” she said, and Billy laughed, nodding.

“He wanted me to stay enough,” he said, wiping his eyes, and desperately wanting Max to offer to handle the paperwork, so he could run back and kiss Steve.

There was a knock on the door. Max ran and opened it, and a short-haired woman wheeled in in a rainbow overall dress, and a small, fancy electric wheelchair, her tail the reds and oranges of a sunset. Billy never quite stopped being envious of how pretty the merpeople were.

“Steve gave you his invites, didn’t he,” she said, and Max slid them around her back, her eyes narrowing.

“...yeah,” Billy said, warily.

“Give them back to him,” she ordered, glaring between them. “He’s been saving those a long-ass time. He’s got plans for those, and he doesn’t need guilt-tripping by a pair of manipulative orphans, jesus.”

“I didn’t guilt-trip him,” Billy said, feeling guilty, suddenly, and remembering Steve’s stiffness as he handed them over. “I didn’t,” he said, less certainly. “...he...he just likes me, he wants me to stay—”

“He’s known you three months, and you told him you fucked him to get someplace nice for your sister to live,” she said crisply. “Give them back.”

“He’s not giving them back,” Max hissed, but she was staring at Billy in horror.

“I didn’t say that,” Billy said, waving his hands. “I didn’t! Not...exactly.”

“Fuck you,” the woman said, glaring. “You pressured him.”

“Fuck,” Billy agreed, his eyes tearing up again. “Lemme—lemme go talk to him. Max, give—give ‘em here.”

“No,” she said, sounding choked, but he walked over and grabbed them, and hugged her.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said under his breath, for her ears only, and ran back out.

Steve was perched up on his rock again, and Billy grabbed his surfboard and sat on it to glide out, paddling with his hands. The water was clear under him, his shadow passing over the anemones on the reef, and he watched the fish darting around, swallowing repeatedly.

“Hey,” he said, when he got close enough, and Steve’s head jerked around, glowering warily.

“...you came back,” he said.

“...you want me to stay, right,” Billy said, cutting straight to the chase. “You gave me these because you want me to stay.” Steve frowned back at him, and Billy’s heart sank. “Answer,” he said, his throat closing around the word.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it,” Steve said, reaching out, but he just grabbed Billy’s board before he could drift into the rip tide again. “You wanted to stay.” He was tense, and he wouldn’t meet Billy’s eyes.

“What do you want,” Billy asked again. “...because I think your friend Robin’s in my house, and she says I guilted you into it, talking about Max. Do you...if I didn’t need an invite. Would you want me to stay?”

“...I guess,” Steve sighed, and Billy swung his leg over the board, dumping himself straight down in the water, because he was definitely about to make some kind of awful noise, and the sea felt good on his hot, wet cheeks. Steve couldn’t see him crying underwater, he thought, grabbing a jut of rock to keep himself from floating back up.

He wished he could take a few slow breaths, he thought, closing his eyes, and then something brushed his arm. He opened his eyes on Steve’s wide-eyed face, his hair swirling in the water. Billy bit his lips together harder, his hands clenching on the rock, and Steve shook his head, pointing up.

“Up,” he mouthed. “Come on.”

Billy let himself be hauled upwards, and pushed up on the rock again, like when they’d first met.

“What are you doing,” Steve asked, hanging on to Billy’s surfboard.

“Nothing,” Billy said, keeping his voice level. “I thought you wanted me to stay. For me. You can have your invites back. I didn’t—” he took a deep breath, hearing Steve’s voice say stop trying to manipulate me, and Robin’s guilt-tripping. “I fucking know I’m pathetic, okay, you don’t have to pity me. Sorry I—sorry I fucking tried, jesus, I just—” he shut his eyes tightly again, laughing as he imagined Robin’s disgusted look knowing Billy’d gone out and cried.

“Wait, fuck,” Steve whispered, clambering up next to him, where Billy barely fit by himself, since it was high tide. He was warm from the sun, his tanned skin gleaming with water droplets, and Billy salivated, because his dick obviously hadn’t gotten the message it wasn’t wanted. “Wait,” Steve said, half on top of him, his weight grating Billy’s shoulder blades against the rock. Billy didn’t really mind. “You only want to stay if—if I want you, what—what does that mean—” His brown eyes were huge.

“...don’t really know how to be clearer,” Billy told him, unable to pull his eyes from Steve’s mouth.

“You don’t want to stay unless I’m happy about it,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s hands.

“Yeah, that’s kinda how it gets, when you fall for somebody,” Billy told him, raising his eyebrows, and Steve took a shuddery breath and kissed him again. He didn’t stop, though, he just kissed Billy and kissed him, laughing shakily, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, as Billy clung to him and the rock, trying to keep them from tumbling off. “I want you here, I want you. Stay with me.”

“I’m what you want?” Billy asked, startled, his brain hazy from warm kisses, and the scrape of pointed teeth. “‘M yours then,” he whispered. “All—all of me. S’yours.”

They laid there so long, whispering and giggling, that Billy had tan lines of Steve’s fingers on his shoulder for months.

Here are the other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done!

#Harringrove April #Mermay #Almost #Harringrove #Steve's got a tail #Billy's got a surfboard

51 notes · View notes

nekoprankster218 · 3 years ago

Text

Finally binging Marvel’s What If…? Here’s my thoughts so far.

Episode 1:

Continuation is a must have.

I realize that like the tall Resident Evil vampire lady, the reason I didn’t know I needed a woman like Captain Carter is because media doesn’t usually give us women built like her. This should change.

Episode 2:

I must know what happened to Rocket and Groot in this universe. I was so sure they’d appear in the Collector’s collection. Gamora being MIA is sus too.

Star-Lord T’challa Thanos is the only valid Thanos. Also seeing him getting his shit kicked in by his own former employees was hilarious.

Honestly gonna be sad when I see this batch of characters again and get reminded this was just an AU.

Also continuation is a must have.

Episode 3:

You know, I kinda thought Loki was gonna join the new version of the Avengers. And then his address to his new subjects happened. Damn.

Wait actually, why didn’t Fury contact Captain Marvel for the original Avengers? Was that something covered in her movie?

Also haven’t gotten to the Ant Man movies yet, so idk what specifically happened here that made Hank Pym go evil.

Speaking of…eh, wasn’t feeling the “it was evil Hank Pym all along” explanation. For the exploration of the Avengers systemically getting murdered before they can form, I guess I expected something else. Actually for awhile I thought the twist was that Loki was doing it; either ‘cause he knew what was gonna happen or he spied on Earth first an got intel or something else.

Episode 4:

Man I really hoped sane!Strange was gonna win.

Also Dr. Strange is another Marvel movie I skipped at first so I have no idea who Christine is or what happened to her in the main timeline.

Also I know from trending that episode 8 is gonna have another Watcher “fourth wall break” so is this gonna be a reoccurring thing every four episodes?

Episode 5:

The number of universes Hank Pym has personally ruined in the name of family is now two. I expect this number to raise.

Also number of universes Tony Stark has died in…four since he wouldn’t gone out with Episode 4’s universe, too.

Honestly having a hard time with the super zombies here. Guess it just feels off that they retain their skills.

Also that cape did a number on five super zombies. Why the hell has cape just been sitting on the rack when cape could’ve just ended the whole apocalypse with that kind of power?

WHY CAN ZOMBIE FALCON FLY.

Oh wait I forgot to add this earlier but what even actually happened. What change in the universe caused the quantum virus? What does it even do? Idk I was kinda expecting every change in the timeline to get highlighted in the same obvious fashion as the Captain Carter one. And there could’ve been many different routes they could’ve taken to reach “zombie apocalypse”.

WAIT WAS THE BABA YAGA CALLBACK FORESHADOWING WANDA?!?! BECAUSE WITCH. OH MY GOD-

I fucking knew it. I knew it. Giant zombie lady. Should’ve put a bullet in her head first, why did everyone eat dumb-dumb crackers simultaneously, even horror movie expert Peter?!

You seriously going to just end it on a zombie Thanos cliffhanger…God fucking dammit. What does it mean?! What does it mean?!

Episode 6:

My mind was all over the place with this one; I was so engrossed. Damn. What a savage evil plan. Where did Killmonger even get the idea?

Also of course Shuri figured out the truth. Wish they explained how and why a bit more, if only as her flexing.

Oh btw, Tony Stark total death count is now at five.

Episode 7:

FINALLY! ROCKET MAKES AN APPEARANCE! Please tell me it’s not just a silent cameo…

Oh my god I love the chemistry between this Thor and Loki. “I couldn’t tell you. It’ll ruin the magic.” with that tone and pose…fantastic.

Love the idea of the whole galaxy being so terrified of Frigga they’ll clean up a whole planet for her.

Just as I was thinking of how I hoped this Thor and Jane’s relationship would work out better than the main verse…ULTRON?!

Also I am dying to know how Rocket ended up in Jane’s apartment. Please give me fanfics of that. And of Rocket and Groot in the Star Lord T’Challa universe, actually. And in the zombie verse. And on every verse.

Episode 8:

The Tony Stark death counts goes up. Also how did the Avengers not get the cradle? Bet it was Hank Pym’s fault again.

Also love the “Ultron is actually the true major threat of the MCU he just got cut off early enough” thing. Hate that it came at the cost of Rocket and Groot and Mantis. Didn’t even get to see them on screen…

Also love that juxtaposition of the Watcher narrating as Ultron realizes there’s a fourth wall. Reminds me of SAO Abridged Episode 2. And looks like not even the Watcher knows what he’s about to narrate until he’s reading it. Nice.

Natasha’s got a shield. Clint’s got a robo arm. They’re Captain Apocalypse and End of the World Soldier.

CLIFFHANGER?! REALLY?! Also what happened to Party Thor universe, I must know. And does that mean we’re reaching a season finale? What’re the rest of the episodes gonna look like from here on out?

#marvel what if #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #live blogging #i think this is how it works at least #long post #under the cut #read more #my posts #spoilers #marvel spoilers

7 notes · View notes

fanfoolishness · 3 years ago

Text

Interview with a Fic Writer

Tagged by @novantinuum, thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3?

242 works. The actual fuck??? Wow, me. Of course, this does span about 9 years, so I guess that's not that insane?

What’s your total word count on AO3

549,737! But that averages out to only 2271 words per story, haha. You got me! I think I have less than 10 fics that have more than 1 chapter. I love one-shots, what can I say?

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Oh, you want to get into this? All right. We'll get into this:

The X-Files, proto-fandom, ur-fandom, first OTP ever... yeah, 15-year-old me went. WILD. Many horrible Mulder/Scully stories, and some Doggett/Scully and character study stories as well. Mostly not very good, but with occasional flashes of decent writing. Really had a difficult time writing romantic feelings between 30+ year-olds given a) I did not date in high school and b) was 17 and not an emotionally stunted FBI agent.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - not a huge volume of stories, but definitely some very angsty Spuffy and Spike tales.

Harry Potter - just one published fic (Lupin grieving Sirius), and one with Snape and Harry having a heart to heart I could never quite get right.

Then came the dark times (vet school) where I was exhausted and hard at work for a few years and I thought, horribly, I might have outgrown fandom. Thank god for...

X-Men First Class and the undying love of Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr! I'd never fallen for a slash ship before but my god I fell hard for this one and wrote my first fandom smut and my first real AU (mutants with zombies) that I never finished.

Then.... let's see...

Quantum Leap drabbles!

Two Avatar the Last Airbender fics!

Agents of SHIELD fics, mostly focused on Coulson and FitzSimmons, and super angsty.

Bioshock Infinite sads (god I love writing the sad bad dad)!

And then the juggernauts of Mass Effect (my longest fic to date with 30 chapters!) and Dragon Age, which were endlessly productive and are still productive given the variety of different protagonists you can create, different choices, and different relationships to canon characters. I'm still working on a Hawke/Varric fic in the back of my mind here.

There's one random Gravity Falls fic (wish I could have got a little more obsessed with it, or gotten into it while it aired) of Stan sads, and one tiny Avengers ficlet of a sad Tony and Peter.

There's one Wheel of Time fic! Dammit I wanted Rand and Tam to reunite so much sooner than they did.

40-odd Steven Universe fics! So many SU fics!

One random Schitt's Creek fic of David and Patrick!

And finally, The Mandalorian, with 47 fics. Phew!!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Invitation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again. A promise is kept.

2. The Outstretched Hand, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin is a man of action, but sometimes, the quiet finds its way in. Din reckons with the aftermath of the events of Chapter 14, the Tragedy. (My very first Mando fic!)

3. Not the Sentimental Type, Steven Universe. Priyanka Maheswaran has long prided herself on keeping her emotions in check. But a mother's love can only grow, and sometimes it expands to people she never anticipated. Like the Universe boy.

4. Translation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages. Some might have thought the Child had no language at all. Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.

5. Full Disclosure, Steven Universe. Just as the world begins to recover from Spinel's attack, Steven starts having nightmares. The more he ignores his fears, the worse they become, until he's left with no other choice but to ask for help. (My thoughts on what would drive Steven Universe Future, and I wasn't far off.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really try to! Even sometimes years later if I realize I've missed some. I appreciate each and every one, and have definitely made friendships through comments <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, hell... I'm too lazy to link these but if anyone wants to read them let me know or find them on my AO3!

A Stopped Clock from Bioshock Infinite has Booker DeWitt ravaged by Korsakoff's amnesia from his long-standing alcoholism. Is Columbia real or imagined? Hard to say.

The Viscount's Way shows Varric Tethras having become his parent, and a cruel, hard viscount of Kirkwall.

Songs in the Key of Red shows how Cullen fared under the dark future in Redcliffe in DAI, and they write happy endings, don't they? shows what happened to Varric. Both horribly depressing in different ways!

Two by Two, Hands of Blue shows a not unexpected end to lyrium addiction :( Poor Cullen, he got a lot of angsty developments, didn't he?

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

Never really got into crossovers or AUs. Just... meh for me!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don't think so.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Charles/Erik, Shepard/Garrus, Shepard/Liara, Shepard/Tali, a mess of different f/f femShep drabbles, and most of my Dragon Age pairings have gotten sexytimes. On the other hand I helped start the NoRomo Mando tag for the Mandalorian to help find non-pairing Mandalorian content. Depends on the pairing and the fandom, for sure.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, thank goodness!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so! There used to be a Spanish-language wiki linking to some of my old X-Files stories XD

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but friends and I definitely will beta each others' things to help with sticky points.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ALL-TIME? Just, why? So many ships I loved in years past turned out to have pretty damn problematic elements I didn't see at the time, so it's hard to say... Mulder/Scully actually has a ton of issues, Buffy/Spike obviously has issues... so maybe Hawke/Varric (except not canon!) or Garrus/Shepard or Brosca/Alistair.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Still need to finish my Hawke/Varric fic for after Adamant! I have 3 chapters written that I haven't posted. Maybe posting them will help inspire me....

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and POV writing from different characters; I feel fantastic writing Steven and Greg, though totally at sea trying to write from Connie's POV, randomly. But I think my dialogue and emotional beats are what people tend to tune in for. When I do write romance, it's usually very sweet and silly and pulled from life. I also love writing nature scenes and settings to help establish mood. Mood and emotion and catharsis are my bread and butter, and I like my poetic prose.

What are your writing weaknesses?

What the hell is a long, well-thought-out plot? Like what even is that???? My longest fic with 30 chapters is basically "Shepard has PTSD and hangs out with her crew. They have some funerals." THAT'S IT. How the heck people actually come up with plot that ties into the lore of a fandom I genuinely have no idea and it's the biggest thing that's held me back from finishing original work. I can come up with a setting and characters and then trying to make them do stuff that's more than just talking to other characters and deepening their relationships with them... how the fuck???

I also definitely have 10-20 words that I am in constant danger of reusing like every other paragraph, LOL!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't speak any other languages so I always avoid it as much as possible. I've seen people describe sign differently in fics and picked one way to depict it that made sense to me for Grogu, but that's about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, of course!

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Towards Another Day, the tale of how Cullen went from being a templar in Kirkwall to commander of the Inquisition, is definitely up there.

Reverberations is one of my rare multi-chaptered fics and one of my favorite for the catharsis at the end. It makes me tear up every time. 5 times Din and Grogu encounter the Dark Side, and one time they find the Light.

Either a world for the birds (Steven develops a closer relationship with his Uncle Andy, learning birdwatching along the way) or on the subject of rocks (Steven and Jasper finally reach a peace) might take the prize for favorite SU fic.

Tagging (if you’re super bored and would like a fun thing to do) fellow writers:

@lastwordbeforetheend, @runrundoyourstuff, @honestlyhufflepuff, @art3mys, and @fake-starwars-fan if you would like to play!

#fandom #writing #on writing #fanfiction #damn look at me go #memes

8 notes · View notes

nothinglost1976 · 4 years ago

Text

Stan Headcanons (Incomplete)-

Various AU-verses

•Hogwarts House - Ravenclaw

•Daemon (His Dark Material): Weasel named Eriphus.

•Circus Au: Stan would do aerial ribbon and aerial hoop. It’s the closest thing to actually flying he can get and despite the distance from the ground, he absolutely loves to let himself go when he performs. Sometimes during a hoop performance, he’ll involve some of the birds that perform. They’re his favorite partners.

•Subject(Maze Runner) - A23: The Intellect (Immune: Med-Jack)

•Zodiac House(Zodiac Novel Series): Cancer

•Fraction(Divergent) - Erudite

•District(Hunger Games) - District 3

•Half-Blood Camp(Percy Jackson) - Son of Pan

•Superpowers - Zoolingualism (Communicate with Animals), Biokinesis (Biological Manipulations), Thiriokinesis (Animal Control)

•Omegaverse(ABO-verse) - Depends on who his partner is.

*As an Alpha, he’s highly protective of his mate. His normally cool and composed behavior is still mostly there. His usual disposition slips a bit when a rut is active. He scents his mate a couple times daily. His scent smells similar to a pine tree.

*As a Beta, Stan is basically his usual self. He’s good at keeping both alphas and omegas calm.

*As an Omega, he’s a highly doting omega. Still his usual composed self unless he’s in a heat. He’s mildly more aggressive when trying to give himself to his mate. His scent is close to s’mores. He likes to be scented as often as possible.

•Darkest Minds - Orange

•Zombie Apocalypse AU: Weapon of Choice - His bird book and a club decorated with nails

•Supernatural Creature: Either Vampire(has purple eyes, Omni-Psionickinesis) or Witch

•Assassin AU: Bow & Arrow (tips usually dipped in an undetectable poison) or knives/blades of some sort (also dipped in same poison as his arrowheads). His Creed tattoo (located on his wrist where he can cover using a watch or a wrist band/cuff):

Headcanons

•Despite not having seen his friends in years, Stan has every book by Bill (as well as any movie adaptation) and every performance done by Richie(Saved/Downloaded). He also has merchandise from Richie’s shows (usually shirts). Anything that was made and sold by the other Losers, he has (at least a few of each product).

•The only two pets Stan has are a parrotlet named Galaxy and a canary named Lady. He cleans their cages and dishes twice daily.

•He listens to a lot of The Beatles and The Mamas & The Papas but when he’s alone, he listens to a mix of basically everything.

•Stan tries to get over his fears by attempting to watch horror movies by himself but he usually shuts it off ten to twenty minutes into the movie.

•Stan can play piano and violin like a pro. He doesn’t play in front of his friends or anyone really. He’s shy about anyone hearing him.

•He’s demisexual. He’s only had a handful of close enough connections that he’d even consider being in relationships with. He’s a (mostly) gentle lover and is versatile (Switch). If you obey what he says (because he likes his control) then he stays pretty gentle with things. If you don’t, he gets more firm/rough/Dominant

•Stan has six tattoos in various spots. One for each of the Losers. Each tattoo is the size of either two fingers or the palm sized. The tattoos on his waist are all below his pant waistline. You have to remove the pants to see them.

*Richie’s tattoo. It has a ribbon wrapping around that says Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. It’s palm sized and is located on his lower (almost on his upper thigh) left hip.

*Eddie’s tattoo. The words are replaced with Eddie Kaspbrak. It’s the length of his wrist and the size of three fingers. It’s located on his right hip, just as low as Richie’s.

*Bill’s tattoo. It’s angled. The scribble line is written to say Bill Denbrough. It’s the size of two fingers and the length of his middle finger. It is located between Richie and Eddie’s tattoos.

*Bev’s tattoo. Beverly Marsh is written in neat little red scrawled letters along the box lines. The size is of two fingers. It’s located just below the neck between his shoulder blades.

*Ben’s tattoo. Instead of birds, it has Ben Hanscom floating away in a cloud of colorful dust. It’s palm sized. It’s located on Stan’s right shoulder.

*Mike’s tattoo. It has Mike Hanlon written on a ribbon that flows between the flowers. This is actually his biggest. It goes from the middle of his fingers to his wrist. It’s located on the middle of his back.

•Each tattoo is Stan’s reminder of who his friends are, who his family is and the six people he loves the most in his life.

•Sometimes if Stan can’t find the words he wants to express the way he’s feeling, he’ll use music.

•Stan doesn’t drink much. One or two is the most. If he drinks more than that, he tends to get flirty and very touchy. And pretty horny.

•Stan likes musicals. He won’t admit he does but he does. He can sing along to most of them (usually his favorites). He also enjoys Disney movies for (most of) the music.

•He can wield a sword as well as shoot a gun and bow & arrows. After the Losers ordeals, he learned to protect himself by fighting back.

•In one verse, Stan is actually a tattoo artist. Still canon divergent but after the first clown incident, he changed and when he left he became a tattoo artist. He’s the one that made Richie, Bill and Eddie’s tattoos and tattooed them himself.

•Stan doesn’t verbally say I love you often. He prefers to show it in the things he does for his loved ones. If he tells you I love you it’s because he does and feels the need to vocalize it.

•Stan won’t sing in front of anyone. Not even the other Losers. He gets shy and embarrassed if anyone hears.

•Stanley would convert his religious beliefs for the one he’s with if they asked him to.

•Stan doesn’t like people touching what’s his. Be it an object or a lover, he hates people touching. Least of all without permission. He’s okay if someone has asked to touch whatever/whoever but not without permission. If you don’t ask his lover for their permission, he’s going to be upset even if he doesn’t say it.

•Stan has actually had a few thoughts/dreams where he’s had a complete meltdown. One that always triggers him into panicking is the Losers having failed in their first battle against Pennywise and he has to watch as It tears each of the Losers apart and devours them slowly. His own death is never what brings him to tears. It’s the whole idea that his only friends and family that he truly loves and adores could be taken from him because he couldn’t save them. Usually if he’s around the others, he dismisses himself to hide away and let it all out. Then he cries a lot and hard and he becomes a total mess. One of few times that Stanley Uris loses his cool and collected disposition.

•Stan suffers from depression and PTSD(because let’s face it, after THAT ordeal, who wouldn’t??). He gets in modes of depression where he does actually inflict self-harm. He chooses to inflict his wounds in spots that he doesn’t think will be caught or seen by any of the other Losers. He has made two actual suicide attempts. One with a bottle of pills (his mother found him and he was brought to the hospital) and once by cutting his wrist (again found by his mother. She freaked out(for obvious reasons) and had him committed for four days). His usual inflicted locations are his upper thighs (hidden by shorts), the underside of his upper arm (usually hidden by his shirt sleeves), hips (below the waistline of his pants), and if he’s in a really dark spot then the side of his neck (really close to his jawline).

•If something comes up (usually when he worried or scared) he’ll grab onto someone’s hand or wrist and just hold onto until whatever has him panicked or freaked out is gone or over with. Sometimes he tucks his face away in their shoulder or neck

•Stan doesn’t say I love you often to people but when he does it’s because he truly loves them and completely trusts them with his life. Rarely does he ever actually say the words “I trust you.” out loud.

•Stan is hard to read as is but sometimes if you check his eyes (that’s where all of his emotions can be read if you’re good at reading how he’s feeling) you’ll know if he dislikes someone or holds hostility towards them. That and the venom and ice in his words.

•While Stan is shy about singing, he will sing while drinking/drunk. He will also serenade people in those moments. (It doesn’t happen often. It’s SUPER rare! Plus he has to be far enough gone (Like nearly blackout drunk) for it to actually happen.)

•Stan is master at Avicii Invector (Nintendo Switch game). He is also a Pokémon Master! He likes playing various games.

•The only way you way you know if Stan is drunk is because he is completely different than he is sober. He’s far more outgoing and boisterous. He is a hardcore flirt (a minx as Eddie so kindly put it) and it’s pretty easy to convince him to get into your bed. On top of that he likes to sing/serenade people and dance. He’s no pro but he is pretty good at dancing.

•Stan is a quiet person. He doesn’t yell or scream (even when he’s upset). It would take a lot for Stan to scream over anything (his nightmare of Pennywise ripping apart and devouring the Losers is one).

#it stan #it 2019 rp #it 2017 rp #it 2019 #it 2017 #it roleplay #it rp #stan uris #stanley uris #stan uris rp #stan uris roleplay #stan the man #imstantheloseruris #headcanon #headcanons

18 notes · View notes