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skelswritingcorner · 1 year ago

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A Vessel, A Stranger, An Experiment

A/N: This took half a week to write, and is significantly longer. Also, the reader character's canon name is Ailith, but I use Y/N since this is the reader character. She behaves like a stray cat. I mostly consulted tvtropes because the wikis aren't exactly helpful with getting a nail on the bots' personalities. Also, the translator is an idea I took from @tripleglitchwriting's Ignition fics,

This is a partial rewrite of An Unfamiliar Place.

Part 2 can be read here!

Word Count: 3K

Reader character is written with gender-neutral pronouns. POV changes and timeskips are designated with three stars.

Warnings: SFW, mentions of blood and injuries, communication problems, G/T (giant/tiny), mentions of unethical experiments

You knew about your injuries before going on the little ship you called home. It’ll be fine, you remember assuring your most recent client after you got your payment, I know how to mend myself.

Clearly, based on the spike that impaled your torso, you were indeed not. Your client didn’t need to know, you had the money to pay someone to fix you up if you can’t do it yourself. Perks of being a bodyguard for hire; the money makes up for any injuries sustained. At least the cloak hid that from the client; you knew they’d prevent you from leaving the planet if they saw.

You removed your mask and cloak, peeling your gloves off your hands as well as removing your grappling hook, and limped toward the mirror. Shit, you thought to yourself, the injuries are more severe than what you assumed. The spike in your torso was the one you knew about, but there were also bullet holes in your left calf. You checked your sleeves, mostly just small scratches and scrapes. Nothing you couldn’t fix.

Grabbing the medical kit, you went to work. Cleaning the wounds of blood and possible grime, then applying the bandages and wraps. The spike would have to be removed by someone more professional, you need to navigate to the nearest space clinic. Plopping onto the chair, you set the ship to go to the nearest clinic. However, as a precaution, you turned on the emergency signal in case a larger ship with someone more skilled in medicine could help. Hopefully the trip will be quick, and smooth-sailing.

Oh, how much of a fool you were. Oh-so foolish of you. You thought this was going to be anything but a disaster? You fool, you absolute buffoon.

There was a massive ship, you knew it was for something gigantic. How and why did you end up in this situation?! You weren’t sure what to do, so you kept the ship where it was. The ship you were facing was ten miles wide at least, and you might be its target.

Something grabbed the ship. It pulled you closer and closer to the gigantic vessel, until you knew you were inside it. Launching yourself off the chair as fast as you could, you hurriedly fastened your magnetic grappling hook on your right arm and grabbed the smallest weapons you had. No time to grab anything else, you needed to run as soon as you could. You held the handle of one of your smaller blades between your teeth.

Clearly, what was holding you was massive, footsteps jostling both you and your vessel, but eventually the ship you were in was put down somewhere. Once everything went silent, you cautiously opened the front hatch.

The vessel you were in was truly massive. Whatever crew is inside this thing must be members of species ten times larger than you at least. No time to dawdle, though. You needed a place to hide, and with haste.

Using your grappling hook, you descended down to the floor. It gave out midway, however, and you unceremoniously fell. Waves of intense pain overwhelmed you, fortunately the knife in your mouth prevented you from shouting out in pain. You’d check what happened later, though. You needed to find a hiding spot some distance away from your ship.

Holding onto your bloodied side, you scurried to a wall and started searching. Fortunately for you, there were some boxes that were open on its side after a few minutes of sprinting. You used your grappling hook to get to them, and entered one of the boxes. Now all you needed to do was wait. See if the crew is friendly, or if they’re going to kill you. Or if you end up dying from blood loss, which is the most likely option.

✩✩✩

It was Ultra Magnus out of anyone who noticed the object at first, and the blood trails coming outside of it. It’s an organic, and an injured one at that, he thought. Using his comm link, he informed all upon the Lost Light of the injured “intruder.” As they were minibots, Tailgate and Rewind were delegated the responsibility of investigating the interior of said object; see what it was for and if anything about what was inside could be discovered. Fortress Maximus chose himself not to look for the organic, for his size made it difficult for him to detect the source of the blood trails. That, and he didn’t want to squash them, so he checked all the cameras in the ship. Ratchet and First Aid were to prepare a berth, as the blood implied potentially life-threatening injuries. Brainstorm and Perceptor were to prepare some restraints and trapping items, in case said organic was being difficult. Now, to figure out who to find the organic…

Much to his dismay, however, Rodimus declared to find the organic himself. “I’m the captain of this ship,” he argued, “I’m going to search for them!”

Magnus pinched his enstril, a deep sigh coming from his intake. Rodimus has always been stubborn, refusing to heed anyone’s advice and acting without plans. Which, given the potential gravity of this current situation, could be disastrous. “I’d suggest not running off by yourself, Captain. At least bring one other Autobot, two pairs of optics are better than one.”

He could feel Rodimus roll his optics.

“I’ll go with the Captain.” Drift sighed. “I know you don’t trust me, but I’ll do the best that I can.”

Magnus grumbled, “Fine. You go with the Captain. I’ll remain by the object the organic came out of. Based on the size, they shouldn’t be too far off. Follow the red trail, and once you get them, bring them to the medbay.”

✩✩✩

POV: Tailgate and Rewind

When Tailgate and Rewind entered the ship, it was relatively empty, yet had signs of life. The blood on the floor made Tailgate panic a bit, but he carried on with reassurance from Rewind.

There were a few items of note, mostly the mask and cloak on the floor. The mask was birdlike in appearance; midnight blue in color with signs of wear. Mostly scratches. The cloak was a similar shade of blue, and rather bulky. There was a cut on the back of it, with blood around where the cut was.

Tailgate turned on his communicator. “Oh, this is bad.”

“What is it, Tailgate?” Magnus questioned.

“There’s an item on the floor, there’s a deep cut on it and… and I think the organic’s injuries might be way more severe than we think!”

“Ten four. I’ll inform Ratchet and First Aid of this.”

Rewind noticed a container, opening it up to see several weapons. Most of said weapons were blades. “We’re not dealing with just any organic,” he muttered, “this is one that knows how to fight. They could be armed as well.”

Rewind opened his comm link to Rodimus.

Tailgate investigated thoroughly, there could be a bomb on the ship. Every container he opened lacked bombs, however. Replacement parts, some stuff written in an unfamiliar language, and… diagrams?

Tailgate looked at the diagrams more closely. Based on the shape, the form was of a human. There were peculiar additions on the chassis, left bitarlueus, and right side of the midsection. Likely something Perceptor and Brainstorm could figure out.

“I found what looks like a recording device! It seems rather old, but I think it might work.” Rewind’s words broke Tailgate out of his trance, “We should activate our translator modules so we can figure out what it’s saying. Once everyone’s translators are online, I’ll play the recording.”

Once everyone confirmed that their translators were online, Rewind pressed the play button on the device. The words that came out were steel cold.

“If you’re listening to this, you’re on my ship. You’re a sneaky one, ain’t cha? I’ve been given many names; The Masked Merc, The Bodyguard Who Shot That One Guy’s Eye Out, and many other names. You’ll be getting my real identity from my cold, dead corpse. If you’re expectin’ me to cooperate with you if I’m alive, you better be polite about that. I’m willing to throw hands if you try to force anything out of me. I might be a mercenary, but I’m not one to throw hands just for the sake of it.”

The recorded message on the old device ended. The two bots looked at each other, and back at the device.

“Wait, there’s another button next to it.” Rewind pressed the button, and another recording played. The voice this time was much softer, and younger. Likely their first recording.

“Hello. I am Y/N. I’m not sure what I really am in this world, this is my first time experiencing many things. Heh, the consequences of living your first decade of life in a lab, I guess. I doubt I can find my ‘real family’ at this rate, if they even miss me at all. I’m a bodyguard for hire. Rarely need to use my weapons, guess some people find me too scary. Goodbye for now. If you see me, you see me. If you don’t, you don’t.”

Silence.

“So the organic’s a bodyguard. Y/N, huh? Must be a pacifist, from the sounds of it.” Tailgate pondered.

“Or is powerful enough that most don’t even try to challenge them since it means swift deactivation.” Perceptor rebutted through the comm link.

“WE FOUND ‘EM!”

✩✩✩

POV: Rodimus, Drift, and Reader

Once the two reached Ultra Magnus, Tailgate, and Rewind, Drift began checking the blood. “There’s a splatter on the floor here,” he mentioned, “must’ve had a nasty fall before they started finding somewhere to hide.”

Rodimus winced trying to imagine the pain. Why couldn’t the organic stay put until they got help? Weren’t they the one sending out the emergency signal?

“Let’s go find that organic!” Rodimus started walking while looking down at the blood trails, Drift swiftly following.

The two walked slowly, optics scanning for where the blood led towards and listening to their comm links. They heard Tailgate and Rewind’s notes about the organic’s possible injuries, the weapons, and the recordings.

Rodimus noticed a slightly open crate, where the blood trail ended. A squeak from inside was all he needed to justify putting a servos on the crate’s side, and opening it up.

“WE FOUND ‘EM!”

Well, you got caught. Took what you believe is half an hour, but better than dying. You weren’t going to hop onto them instantly though, they might try to kill you. More likely than not, they might not be super cautious. Especially the orange one, they seem like they’ll accidentally manhandle you and make your injuries significantly worse.

Wait, how can you understand them? Are they using a common tongue? You have some handle on certain languages from your years as a mercenary, but you weren’t sure how they knew any of the languages you knew. Nobody mentioned giant sentient robots when talking to you. Actually, they probably did it in whispers since most people are scared of you. Dammit.

The white one tilted their head, “You’re clutching your midsection with your servo. Are you hurt there?”

Well, shit.

You slowly removed your hand from where you were covering your injury. The spike got pushed when you fell, and is currently jutting out from your stomach. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it didn’t end up on the side of the subspace pocket the scientists installed on you, so you can hide that for a little while longer. Your hand, however, was covered in blood.

The orange one held out their hand, or what they called a servo. You did not trust him to handle you gently, and walked further into the crate. They grumbled, something about you being difficult.

“Let me, Rodimus.” The white one held his servo out, “I think they don’t trust you with holding them.”

You approached the servo with caution, touching a digit with your not-super-bloody hand. When they didn’t try to grab you, you slowly crawled onto their open palm. Another squeak of pain came from your lips when your injured leg touched the hand, though.

The servo slowly brought you close to their body, and the one you assume is Rodimus put a servo on the side of their helmet. “Drift’s holding the organic, I’ll go with him to the medbay and have Ratchet look at ‘em.”

“Percy and I will be there too,” another, more younger-sounding voice said, “I think I found something of note.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. What did they find? The medical kit that’s pretty low on supply right now, your sewing kit, or…

They found the files you took with you when you escaped, didn’t they? All those diagrams and logs about your conditions and states, and how your body responded to the implementations. You should’ve kept that in the subspaces, in hindsight.

“Don’t worry,” the one holding you, Drift, comforted, “Ratchet’s a bit grumpy, but he’s one of the best doctors here.”

He’s gonna struggle with the spike since it’s so tiny compared to them. Unless he has some sort of assistant closer to your size, you’re probably gonna be the one to remove it for the doctor.

They started walking, Drift making sure that you were safe, and that you wouldn’t be jostled too much.

You heard a door open, and heard another approach.

“This is the injured organic? The berth is ready, First Aid and I will take care of them.” you assume that was Ratchet.

Drift walked closer to a large metal slab, gently lowering you onto it. A pair of smaller servos held you, lowering you so that you laid supine.

“What’s the thing they’re holding in between their dentas?” the voice from who you infer as being First Aid asked. You removed the switchblade from your mouth without saying a word. With a flick of the wrist, the blade went out, but you then put it back in its original position.

A red servo took the knife away. You wouldn’t need it right now anyway, but they better give it back once they’re done fixing you.

“We should take care of what’s poking out of them first. It’s incredibly tiny though, I doubt my servos can even grab onto it without slipping.” Ratchet prodded around the injury, making you wince.

You sighed, grabbing onto the spike. A growly voice came from your mouth, “I can remove it for you.”

First Aid grabbed onto your bloody hand, “You’re injured! We should be the ones removing it!”

“And you’re literally twice my size,” you rebutted, “I’ve had worse done to me. This is nothing.” You weren’t bluffing either. Those researchers have done worse things to you with their twisted experiments.

Ratched sighed, “They’re probably right. I know it hurts your spark to have a patient removing something that you can, but it seems that they have… experience with removing things from themselves. Clean the wound and stitch it up once they remove the object.”

First Aid looked into your eyes. Despite the plate on their face and visor preventing you from reading his expression, you knew from his tone of voice and body language that he was worried. He reminded you of yourself, in a way. That hyper-empathy that frequently decides to say hello when you least expect it.

“Ready?”

You nodded, slowly pulling the spike out. First Aid held your hand during this, not caring about the blood staining his servos. Comes with the job, you suppose. Once it was removed, a cloth was put over the gaping, bloody hole.

It took a decent amount of time before all injuries were cleaned and stitched up. They also made you digest some kind of liquid that Ratchet claimed to help speed up the healing process. Throughout, you were as obedient as a dog.

During the time the procedure was happening, Drift left. In his place, two other robots were there. First Aid was lifting your upper body so you could sit.

“The patient was rather pleasant, didn’t try fighting me or anything.” Ratchet reported to the red and blue one.

“Eh,” you shrugged, “You spend half your life as a lab rat, you get used to followin’ orders and getting weird things injected into your body.”

Everyone went silent and stared. Some looked confused, others horrified. First Aid stopped.

“Y’all’re lookin at me funny.”

The white and blue bot, who was likely the one who went into your ship, said those six words you remember hearing years ago, “What did they do to you?!”

Not this again.

“Based on those documents,” the red and blue one spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, “many things. I translated all of them. It appears that the patient,” he gestured to you, “was used in experiments to see if subspace entrances could be added to organic bodies for purposes of smuggling items. Clearly, they were successful.”

Welp, cat’s out the bag.

“Do these documents have any information other than that?” First Aid asked, “Where they’re from? Their name? If they have a family?”

You scoffed, “I was taken when I was a baby, as far as I’m concerned I’m an orphan. And I’m confident it’s too late to try and find my biological relatives, if they’re even alive.”

The white and blue bot covered where their mouth would be, “But do you know what planet you’re from? We can start there.”

“The documents say they’re from Earth, and therefore a human. From that recording Tailgate and Rewind found, their name is Y/N.” The taller bot said.

“Thank you, Perceptor. I’ll look over the documents once we clean and sanitize the berth.” Ratchet nodded.

You were exhausted from the chaos of today. Closing your eyes, you quickly fell asleep.

✩✩✩

Ratchet carried the sleeping human to the scanner, looking at the screen as it was scanning.

“There appears to be multiple points of trauma, both new and old. Along with those, signs of experimentation are shown especially on the upper chassis, left bitarlueus, and midsection. The peculiar crescent scar below their tank shall be noted for later questioning.” He noted on his datapad. “For now, it’s best that they rest.”

After the scans finished, he brought the human to a berth meant for the minibots, and sat on a chair nearby to monitor them.

#transformers x reader #transformers first contact au #first contact au #Mercenary!Reader #transformers rodimus #transformers ultra magnus #transformers tailgate #transformers drift #transformers ratchet #transformers first aid #transformers perceptor #transformers rewind #first aid x reader #transformers g/t

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sillymillipede · 2 months ago

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I've been thinking about a Ark & Magnus Archives crossover so much and I've finally gathered my thoughts. Major spoilers for both beyond the 'keep reading'

Tagging people who mentioned being interested in my yapping @katie-the-bug @rainesaur

I really want to write something, and it might just be short stories about some of the characters, but the general idea of what I want to do is the Ark story but the fears are there. It would be cool to rewrite the story of Ark and considering how the fears might influence the story or the characters' actions but I doubt I have the energy for that. I'm sure there's a lot of interesting things I could do with Earth getting corrupted by element too. Maybe it somehow caused a less intense version of the apocalypse in Season 5 as well, because of a failed/partial ritual.

Element is somehow related to the Web. It could be related to a lot of different things, but I think the main thing I want to focus on is how it seems to be somewhat alive and convincing people to use it I’ve been mainly thinking about associating fears with Ark characters and this is what I’ve got so far (based on vibes.)

Helena - The Eye The Magnus Archives Wiki says that the Eye includes "drive to know and understand, even if your discoveries might destroy you" and I think that fits Helena really well. (This could fit Rockwell too) In the beginning her motivation for exploring the Island is to learn all she can about the animals there, and later turns into her finding out that the Island is stranger than she realized. One of her motivations throughout the story is to find out the truth about what the Arks were made for and she is putting herself into dangerous situations just to discover more. On the Island, if she had never started to search for more knowledge of what it was, she never would have gotten captured by Nerva and put in a life threatening situation. Despite that, she wouldn't have changed anything, she couldn't have ignored the desire to know more about the island.

In the end, I doubt Helena fully becomes an "avatar" like Jon did, in the notes, Mei tells Helena that she's starting to sound like Rockwell, she decides that she will only use the prism to save her friends, and not to make a discovery about the Arks.

Not sure how I'll include the Homo Deus in this but I'll figure that out if I do decide to write something. Homo Deus Helena is watching over all the Arks, and the character you play as in-game. Maybe in this story, the Homo Deus/One Who Waits really is the Ark version of an archivist, though I doubt Helena would like the whole "feeding on fear and haunting nightmares" thing.

Rockwell - The Web I was going to say the Corruption because “haha funny Ark reference” and just based on physical appearance the Eye or Flesh might work but finally I decided he had to be the Web. He’s manipulating everyone he meets. Nerva, Timur, The Tek survivors, some of the graduate students, Gabriel, etc. He hints at the Obelisks being weapons to Nerva even if he knows they might not be, because he knows that’s what Nerva wants to hear and that’s what will get Nerva to agree to investigate them with him. He allied with Timur just to convince him to fight the Manticore and then steals the element and poisons him. He hides his true intentions from Helena and Diana so he can get what he needs from them. Pretending to be a “kind old man” so he can get their hospitality and supplies and avoid suspicion. And he’s secretly the one behind all the issues on the Genesis Ship and in the simulation. The branching arms and tentacles of Rockwell Prime resemble a web.

In this version of the story the Element itself is manipulating him too, he says he hears it calling to him in the notes.

Nerva - The Slaughter The guy who started one of the first large-scale wars mentioned in the Island notes would be associated with the entity related to war and violence. Nerva thinks that the gods brought him to the island to bring order, and in this version of the story, he will soon realize that while "the gods" do want him to keep causing wars, they are not any of the gods he knows. He gives the Slaughter the violence it wants, and he and his army become strong enough for him to accomplish his goals.

Meiyin - The Hunt I'm sure the hunt really loves the Arks, because now humans are afraid of being hunted a lot more often. It's the fear of being hunted and being prey, and who better to represent that then the character who has gained the reputation of being the "beast queen" because of how she fights and hunts with her tamed dinosaurs

There is also her desire to find and kill those who have harmed people she cared about, and people she was trying to protect. She said she would follow Nerva to whatever Ark he travelled to, if she hadn't killed him in the Tek cave.

In this version of the story she has the ability to communicate with her pack of dinosaurs, and while she won't be able to have full conversations with them or anything like that, she can understand them and how they are feeling even more than she could in the notes.

Santiago - The Extinction (which I know some might not count it as one of the entities but it counts in my heart okay) Obligatory "Extinction? Is that an Ark reference?!?!"

Santiago could be part of the "oops I caused the apocalypse club", while it wasn't him specifically who did it, in the notes he realizes that the Element corruption came from the Element War, which was fought using weapons he designed, and he seems to think he's responsible for it. He even says "Either I'm a horseman of the apocalypse, or I'm nothing at all."

And by the time of the Element War the Extinction could have been around for long enough to be like the other entities. It includes the fear of humans causing their own extinction, and while humans don't go extinct in Ark, Earth ends up being destroyed by their actions. There are no humans left on Earth until Santiago and the others have arrived. It also includes the fear of humanity being replaced by something else, which I could stretch to include how most humans alive are clones of people who have already died, aside from maybe some people on the colony ship.

I don't have a lot of thoughts for other characters. I could say Diana had an encounter with the End, considering how she died and was resurrected by Helena.

Gabriel could be associated with the Stranger or Spiral? He has the engrammic matrix of two different people, and therefore the memories/personalities of two people. Which could be connected to the "your mind is lying to you" aspect of the Spiral, or the uncanny "something isn't right" aspect of the Stranger.

I could also connect the Desolation to what happened to Nosti. it's described as the fear of "pain, loss, burning, and destruction", and not only was the city itself destroyed, but also the lives that Raia and John (the Ark John) had created for themselves and those who lived there, as well as Raia's chance of having a life with John after he dies.

Raia does not work for or become an avatar of the Desolation. I considered going that route with the story, but in order for her to do that she would have to start causing that kind of destruction herself, and that does not seem like her character. She does cause destruction, but she specifically fights creatures that attack other survivors/villages, in order to make sure what happened to herself and Nosti doesn't happen to others. She would not help the 'god' that destroyed her city, and took the one she loved from her.

#ark survival ascended #ark survival evolved #the magnus archives #helena walker #sir edmund rockwell #mei yin li #gaius marcellus nerva #I really hope I didn't forget anything

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haoboutyou · 7 months ago

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idk if ur reqs are open rn but i was thinking maybe.. a titanic au with mingyu? hehe.. i love angst. honestly it's up to you to twiddle around with the plot but mingyu as jack dawson.. my mouth is watering rn BUT LIKE HE DOESN'T DIE YK AAAA what am i doing

I’m genuinely sorry this is now a headcanon fic. I cannot for the life of me string this into a coherent story. also real sorry 1) it's not angst 2) it took so long :'))

divider credit

right so

this is a strangers 2 lovers type beat

also modern-day cruise so it passes all the safety checks (no dying here)

oh gyu is on the boat with hao because they’re on a cruise with a friend group and y/n’s on the cruise with her family

gyu’s just like “Ugh why cruise? there’s no internet or whatever. with the same amount of money, I could’ve gone to Italy.”

y/n’s like “Omg cruise!!! I love young Leonardo Dicaprio!!!”

they bump into each other at like the swimming pool deck and y/n’s like “Why are you so grumpy? It’s a cruise!"

and he’s like “It’s a cruise. you’re stuck on a ship miles away from land. Have you seen the Titanic?? we can drown and die!!!!”

to which y/n’s like “Bro I fucking love the Titanic. I want to do all the Titanic things minus the r21 parts and the dying parts.”

he’s like “Recreating Titanic? I guess that’s not so bad. Do you need some help?” and y/n’s all “omg please I don’t want to recreate them with my family members”

titanic is where “you jump, I jump” came from right? cause I can totally imagine y/n and mingyu doing this at the cruise’s pool just before they dive in

“If you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in after you.”

mingyu is saying this to y/n because they’re on the diving board and y/n is too scared to jump, so he brings up that line.

y/n’s surprised he knows the exact lines “I thought you said the Titanic was stupid” “Well, Leonardo Dicaprio was hot” and with that, she manages to steel herself for the jump and goes “Well, if you jump then I’ll jump, right?” and then they jump together

(meanwhile, hao's watching on the sidelines like "... that is not how the movie goes but okay" hao is waiting for his turn to jump behind them)

They hear that there’s a caricature artist on board and mingyu’s like “I can’t draw very well, but we can pay this guy to draw us?” “neat. a souvenir!” (they go up to him and mingyu’s flabbergasted that it’s hao because remember: he doesn’t actually work there; he’s also a passenger, but he’s so bored out of his mind that he started drawing and people were noticing that he was drawing and going up to him like “omg artist?? can you draw us????” so he’s like hmm sure ig more money for me)

(i know it's dumb but hao was just this random character that keeps popping up no matter what they do. breakfast? he happens to be sitting at the table they pick. pool? he happens to be tanning there when they stroll past and she almost trips into the pool. drawing? he's the artist. photos? he might as well.)

yes so they do the whole “king of the world!!” and they’re getting another kind passenger to take a picture of them (not hao). he still has an arm around her waist when she takes back the phone from the passenger and the passenger goes “oh to be young and in love again. you guys are such a cute couple!” y/n’s cheeks are red and it’s not because she forgot to reapply sunscreen

he leans over y/n’s shoulder to peek at the phone. “can i see?” y/n is suddenly hyper aware of his close proximity and she’s gone super still as he’s scrolling through the photos.

and then he selects all the photos he likes and airdrops them to himself

mingyu: "do you know what else jack and rose did while they were at the top deck? "

y/n, whispering, well aware that jack took rose’s first kiss (idk that’s what wiki said): "i don’t remember all of a sudden"

mingyu, leaning in: they kissed

ok so there’s a bar on the ship and hao’s asking gyu to come because “bro the cruise is gonna end (it literally just started) and you still haven’t gotten your money’s worth of booze” so gyu naturally invites y/n. she’s skeptical at first but he goes “didn’t (jack and rose) go dancing too?” she relents and so she goes with him and gyu is just STARSTRUCK at how pretty y/n is even at day ?? of being out at sea

when mingyu and y/n disembark from the ship after the week was over, and mingyu realises that for all the time they spent together they did not exchange numbers At All so he RUNS. the hug when they found each other is so cute. like, it's peak romance.

i want that.

#mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen #kim mingyu fluff #svt fluff #kim mingyu #svt #seventeen scenarios #mingyu #seventeen headcanons #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚

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tyk-tyk-tyk · 3 months ago

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How about, for the meme: good ol’ lodger, and Maxwell if you want to do another!! :3

Sorry this took so long to answer! Going to start with The Lodger, and I’ll put Maxwell from Don’t Starve under the cut!

First impression

I remember the most striking thing was the art style, his eyes were absolutely haunted and I loved them. His design alone is what got me looking at the game.

Impression now

He’s such a little gremlin. I mean, come on, look at him! He’s such a little shit being an unreliable narrator, and I think that’s my favorite character flaw I’ve ever had the pleasure of observing and writing.

Favorite moment

Which leads into the next point, I think the most haunting part of the game was The Lodger constantly contradicting himself and abruptly saying “Help me.” with no other explanation. I know the gameplay is clunky, grindy, and completely unfair—But I will ride and die for the atmosphere at least.

Idea for a story (Mentions of disease/rotting/minor horror elements! Skip to the next one if you don’t want to read this!)

I’ve had this draft called ‘doppelgänger’ in my WIPs for ages, but it was meant to be The Lodger finding a wounded stranger out in the woods and nursing them back to health. There’s a funeral custom about draping things over mirrors, so The Lodger hasn’t seen his own reflection in years. Prattles on and on about how this poor stranger should have taken better care of themselves, they look uncanny! Their eyes look hollowed in and their skin is a deathly pale and their red hair looks like it’s falling out—

By the time he realizes it’s a living and breathing copy of himself, he’s already invited it into his home, and he has to decide what to do from here on out.

Unpopular opinion

Is this fandom even big enough for popular opinions I think the lodger would be an antivaxxer in modern times, you know bro would PANIC about conspiracy theories

Favorite relationship

Him and his bed (and if you’re not with the government, I’ll ship him with basically any other man even if it’s toxic just to try and experiment with what he would do in a relationship. Please for the love of god keep him away from the girl in the woods though her Steam card is LITTLE GIRL not grown woman, that’s his daughter not his date)

Favorite headcanon

I always struggle to decide which is more heartbreaking and plausible, if The Lodger is some guy that a nearby town/city sees every now and then and never sees him again for months on end, or if no one even knows he exists and his house is just a stop in the middle of nowhere.

Though while we’re on that note, I think regardless he is insanely lonely and LOVES company of any kind. To the point where it can be kind of overbearing. But he’s trying his best.

Now, about that Maxwell guy

First impression

I haaated him, but only because I always imagined him smugly laughing every time I died to something stupid in Don’t Starve. Everything felt like concentrated spite towards my journey to the throne (that never even got past King of Winter)

Impression now

I like him so much as a character. I remembered unlocking Maxwell with cheats just to run through his dialogue in game (even though I could have just looked at the wiki, I wasn’t smart okay) and watching someone else get to his throne. It was such whiplash for me to realize that someone who (allegedly) was taunting me was actually just in an insane amount of endless misery.

Favorite moment

“Even the king is bound to the board.” Such an iconic line for me.

Also any time he whines about physical labor or his clothes getting dirty always makes me laugh

Idea for a story

It’s hard to say, I don’t tend to do a lot of writing for Maxwell since my amazing and most best friend in the world often writes him. Though I’ve always found the concept of Wilson interacting with William funny. I think once upon a time an ancient moon ago, I wanted to draw a mini comic where Wilson and William were spying on Maxwell using bush hats. Wilson goes ‘Alright, go talk to him.’ and William replies ‘No way, I scare me!’

Sigh, simpler times.

Unpopular opinion

I haven’t interacted with the fandom in LITERALLY YEARS so this could have changed, but I think people like to try and pull like… Internet cancel culture on this old man. Saying that just because he was evil once, he’s evil forever. And while I don’t think he’s entirely sunshine and rainbows, the man was poor and I get why he literally made a deal with the devil. You can tell that he never wanted at least Charlie to get involved, and he quite literally was gaslit back into the dark side, so. I dunno, be kind to your elders or something.

Favorite relationship

Initially I was so off-put by Maxwil, but as I’ve gotten older I think it’s one of my favorite opposites attract tropes.

I love Maxlie more than anything though. 10/10 friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, no notes.

Favorite headcanon

I think he likes to do magic tricks for the kids. Or anyone who will watch and won’t make fun of him. He may put on a refined gentlemanly front but I think he’ll always be a nerd.

#knock knock #knock knock game #knock-knock #mini speaks #тук тук тук #don’t starve #dst maxwell

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dustycrustyx · 25 days ago

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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 The fall of Hawkins || Looking for writers (Canon)

Hey everyone! I'm part of a server that’s on the hunt for dedicated Novella writers! 🎉

We have a few open spots right now due to some recent changes. Please check out the Wiki(s) to get a feel for the characters and stories we’re building!

Canon Roles Available

Eddie Munson (Wiki link)

Our previous writer had to step back from Eddie due to personal reasons, but they’ll return later as an OC around S5. We’re looking for someone to take over Eddie’s story!

Chrissy Cunningham (Wiki Link)

Our previous Chrissy writer has decided to focus on their other role (Mabel), so Chrissy’s spot is open for someone new.

For both roles, we’ll provide you with a detailed rundown of everything that’s happened so far and where the story is heading. We’re looking for writers who are passionate, dedicated, and have a strong understanding of these characters. Hellcheer is on the table for exploration but not a requirement—you’ll have creative control over that direction!

Extra role

Chance (Wiki Link)

Chance is ready for some drama and depth! We’ve got an active Jason and Andy in play, and there are intriguing plans involving Chance and another OC, Mabel. This is a great opportunity to bring him to life and explore some exciting dynamics!

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

What We Offer

A supportive and active community of Advanced Literate/Novella writers

Nearly 3 years of consistent activity and storytelling!

A fun and collaborative experience with writers who are passionate about the Stranger Things universe

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

Rules

You must be 18+ (minors DNI)

Write in Adv Lit/Novella style (detailed, multi-paragraph posts)

Be active and communicative—let us know if you need a break; we’re super understanding!

Engage with all characters, not just your ship

Be kind and respectful

Most importantly, have fun! 🎉

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

Interested?

Leave a comment or send me a message on Discord: _thinkincap.

Can’t wait to hear from you! 💥

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sapphire-weapon · 1 year ago

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so this whole thing with the shadowban has been really fascinating to me from like a fandom sociological perspective because like

my analytics have always been shit. probably 80% of my posts are sub-10 notes, but i don't really care about notes. having you guys engage with me via ask is way more important to me than having you guys engage with me via likes.

but moving blogs has really put into perspective just how small this community actually really is

i have 564 followers on this blog

only 62 of you have actually moved over to follow @agonycrossbow so far

but what's really been fascinating about this is realizing that

despite the fact that my posts get almost no engagement

and my active follower count is less than 100

i'm still showing up at the top of google searches for some ships

my analytic points are getting repeated by complete strangers on totally different platforms

my posts have been featured by complete strangers on tiktok numerous times

my analysis has been taken so seriously that it's actually affected the RE wiki and RE fandom's understanding of canon shipping

aeon fandom finds my content to be so distressing and so threatening that they've been actively harassing me for months, shittalking me on other social media, and worked to get my blog shadowbanned

and so it's this really interesting phenomenon where like

people clearly agree with me, but no one wants to be seen doing it with their names attached

which, i think, is a really interesting statement about the current state of the culture in RE fandom in general

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rphunter · 23 days ago

Note

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 The fall of Hawkins || Looking for writers (Canon)

Hey everyone! I'm part of a server that’s on the hunt for dedicated Novella writers! 🎉

We have a few open spots right now due to some recent changes. Please check out the Wiki(s) to get a feel for the characters and stories we’re building!

Canon Roles Available

Eddie Munson (Wiki link) Our previous writer had to step back from Eddie due to personal reasons, but they’ll return later as an OC around S5. We’re looking for someone to take over Eddie’s story!

Chrissy Cunningham (Wiki Link) Our previous Chrissy writer has decided to focus on their other role (Mabel), so Chrissy’s spot is open for someone new.

Extra role

Chance (Wiki Link) Chance is ready for some drama and depth! We’ve got an active Jason and Andy in play, and there are intriguing plans involving Chance and another OC, Mabel. This is a great opportunity to bring him to life and explore some exciting dynamics!

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

What We Offer

A supportive and active community of Advanced Literate/Novella writers

Nearly 3 years of consistent activity and storytelling!

A fun and collaborative experience with writers who are passionate about the Stranger Things universe

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

Rules

You must be 18+ (minors DNI)

Write in Adv Lit/Novella style (detailed, multi-paragraph posts)

Be active and communicative—let us know if you need a break; we’re super understanding!

Engage with all characters, not just your ship

Be kind and respectful

Most importantly, have fun! 🎉

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

Interested?

Leave a comment or send me a message on Discord: _thinkincap

Can’t wait to hear from you! 💥

#dustycrustyx #stranger things roleplay #stranger things rp #group roleplay #group rp

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sadistpet · 11 months ago

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Meet the Writer

it's munday everybunny you know what that means

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

i love choosing muses that aren’t very. canonically fleshed out. it gives me a lot of opportunity to make them into my own ig :3

raikov is generally a pretty blank slate besides the little we know about him ( being violent / sadistic, being in love with volgin, u kno ) and i think he's potentially a really interesting character from what little we see of him. im personally not ascribed to the eva theory bc i think its kinda silly and robs him of a lot of his personal agency, but it is a common theory, so i kinda wanted to build up a characterisation that was more. faithful to canon rather than fanon u kno. plus sometimes my autism just latches onto specific random characters for no reason and in this case it was raikov JDSFHDFKJ my partner loves raiden and when we were scrolling his wiki page for the funnies obviously raikov's page comes up at the top as a "maybe you meant this" and i just kept coming back to him

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH i hate writing anything with like. eating?? which is ironic considering . raikov . but i just never know how to word it BUT aside from that i think combat is really the only thing ! just cause i feel like it relies heavily on input from both parties and i constantly feel like im overstepping kjshkfjhg

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

fluff angst smut grins. they just come a lot easier to me, especially angst because i always have a LOT to say about silly little internal thought processes and i love writing sadness and pain ^-^ it makes me very gleeful ironically jdkhfdjhg i get very emotionally invested in angst especially. smut is a little bit harder? kinda like with combat ironically it heavily relies on the input of both parties but i do feel for the most part its pretty open ended fun :3

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

i just know. BUT NO SERIOUSLY sometimes it's just Vibes, sometimes it's through reading canon stuff and linking it back to my backstory for him, sometimes it's through interactions with others. there's a lot :3 i do put a lot of thought into my headcanons though, maybe like. too much lmao. but i enjoy it i really love doing a lot of analysis to get to my headcanons

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

a bit of both ! rn i'm writing in silence and i think last night i was mostly writing in silence on my phone and then listening to music while i finished stuff on pc. i think it depends ? sometimes i just get really distracted when listening to music and end up completely neglecting actually writing HDFJGHED so i think overall i prefer silence, or something in the background that i've already seen before so i don't need to pay much attention to it

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

i love winging it :3 i like the unpredictability of it but i think i tend to like. outline ? replies before i actually write them properly. ive never really plotted with anyone besides a vague kinda outline or premise, because i do really like the unpredictability :3 but im always open to plotting grins cutely.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

Yes. not just romantic shipping; sexual, enemies, rivals, whatever, idgaf I LOVE CONNECTIONS!!!!!!! i love being able to write relationships between characters. even if its like, familial relationships or whatever, i think it's SO FUN like ourgh. grins really big

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

frances ! it’s not my irl name but the one im most comfortable using online. i also go by rosalind, neo, and vanya :3 one of these is closest to my irl name but youll never guess

ᴀɢᴇ?

22, 23 this year somehow

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

september 17th !

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

pink. fairy tale pink. baby pink. any shade of pink

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

UM im not sure ?? of all time maybe dysph.oric reverie by [redacted] and the art of suicide by emilie autumn and valley of the dolls by marina atm though its a stranger i remain and holding out for a hero

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

the thing (1982) !! oh it was so fucking good i really really enjoyed it. theres a bunch of old classic horror films ive never seen so im glad i could tick one off the list :3 the effects in it were absolutely stunning my goodness

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

i think it was blue eye samurai ?? i gen dont remember

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

im so sorry for my crimes but it was the stains of time and then holding out for a hero

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

meat. and sweet things. i dont think i really have any favourites in particular besides liiiike caramel

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

spring ! all the other seasons make me depressed in some way somehow

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

i have avoidant personality disorder so im too scared to explicitly call anybody my friend in case they hate me so unfortunately i will not think of us as friends unless yuou tell me we are. but if i talk to you / interact with you regularly just know i consider u a friend ok. snf

#im so slepey. thank uou #g: ¦ ❝ ooc. ❞

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novella-writers · 4 months ago

Note

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 The fall of Hawkins || Looking for someone interested in our OC Beatriz

I'm part of a server that is looking for dedicated Novella OC writers! :D

For this role we're crafting a new detailed biography that aligns with canon events and has meaningful connections with established characters, including smaller or lesser-known roles.

Bea has been part of the story for some time, but due to her previous writer’s inactivity, we're reopening the role. Here's some info on her: https://stranger-things-the-fall-of-hawkins.fandom.com/wiki/Beatriz_Narvaez (Remember she's currently being reworked and we would love to get your input!) Some quick info on her rework: - She's a waitress at a Hawkins Diner - She suffers from anxiety and takes pills for this (she rambles) - She has a secret love for DnD - She knows how to wield a gun - She carries a lot of guilt that she's trying to hide (These are all suggestions, you have all the freedom to make her your own)

Also, Robbea (Robin x Bea) is a ship we've developed and cherished since the server's launch, and we're hoping to find someone eager to bring Bea back to life! Her role is inspired by Vickie and is meant to replace her.

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

We can offer you a great experience with a group of fun and very supportive Adv lit/Novella writers! We're active and have been going strong for over 2 years now :3

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

Some rules:

- You must be over the age of 18, minors DNI

- Must write detailed: Adv Lit/Novella posts

- Be an active member

- Interact with all characters, not focus on your ship only

- Be kind

- Have fun!

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

Interested? Comment or shoot me a message on Discord _thinkincap.

Message if interested!

#fandom rp #oc rp #stranger things rp

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cynoirs · 4 months ago

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𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙻𝚈𝚆𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺. ─────── an independent interpretation of "PHILIP MARLOWE", an american private detective from raymond chandler's 1940s hard boil crime - grime series. investigated by cece. twenty - five. any pronouns. black. no minors. temp info.

𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚂: deadpan snarker, genius bruiser, the hardboiled detective, knight in sour armor, vice city. 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: gotham city, the long halloween, the wolf among us, classic hollywood films.

¹ as stated, i'm cece, and this is a blog for a private detective, philip marlowe. while i don't own this character in any regard i will be treating him more or less like an original character, heavily taking inspiration from his source material. please click temp info to be redirected to his wiki page to get a brief idea of who he is. you can also find me on my multi [ @burihal ]

² if you're uncomfortable with any darker material / adult themes i'd advice you stay away from this blog. i focus heavily on the noir genre which touches on topics that are often violent and cynical. philip isn't a bad guy per say, but he isn't nice either. i'm not watering him down for anyone. that said, the source material was made in the 1940s. racism will be eliminated in this case.

³ as a general rule, i don’t roleplay with any of the following: k-roleplay accounts, minors, real life muses [celebrities, serial killers, school shooters, criminals, etc], nor will i write anything non - consensual, incestuous, pedophilic, or based around police brutality or the military.

fandoms: attack on titan, hazbin hotel, stranger things, harry potter, our flag means death, my hero academia. characters: makima [ chainsaw man ], mei mei [ jujutsu kaisen ], hisoka [ hxh ]

⁴ i'm too old, too autistic, and too tired to care too much about unspoken rp rules or whatever. be chill. general rp rules apply? idk. don't be weird. furthermore: i love pre - established dynamics. i only rp with mutuals and i'm willing to write with anyone. shipping is cool, marlowe is flirty, but don't force anything. i like other dynamics just as much. sexual material probably won't make an appearance here.

#﹟P.#﹟UPDATED: 1O/2O.

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strawbattyshortcake · 1 year ago

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Read Over My Shoulder

Awful Glad We Met (1/3) Words: 4665 Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

(I wrote a thing! Meant to be a two-parter, this got way longer than I was expecting, so now it's three. Title is from To Err Is Human by Will Wood <3 Drow words from the Forgotten Realms wiki's Drow Dictionary) ********

It’s difficult to tell if things are going well with her new companions.

Triel'dra is used to being away from home. She patrols the borders of their territory for potential encroachment, she wanders both the underdark and the surface for days at a time when it's needed, tucking herself away beneath brambles and roots to curl up and wait for the sun to set.

But she'd never been alone before, not like she was waking up on that beach in the wreckage of the haszak ship. Even if she knew where she was, if she could just find the direction and walk until she was home, she couldn't. Not with this thing in her head, not when it would bring danger down on everyone she loves. Her family, her community, this small enclave that’s all she’s ever known.

It's hard, admitting to herself that she's lonely, harder still to admit she's afraid.

So, when she'd found the half-elf she had been trying to free, up and well and pounding on a temple door, Triel had been all too eager to stay close to her, and had no idea how to go about it. They had the same concerns, the same ends, and it made sense even if Shadowheart didn't seem thrilled by the prospect, nor did Lae'zel, when they had found her shortly after. Lae'zel is sharp and impatient, Shadowheart taciturn and withholding, but perhaps this is simply how it is, to be with strangers. She'd been warned all her life to expect hostility from colnbluth, anyway, and had assumed that this was the chilly process by which all new acquaintances acclimatised.

Then they had found Astarion.

She'd never seen a surface-elf before, though she'd known at once what he was. No one hated ilithiiri like darthiiri did, and she'd been ready to defend herself, but he'd looked at her, full in the face, seen exactly what she was, and asked for help. And her foolish, lonely little heart had leapt, desperate for a friendly face, even if she hadn't quite let her guard down. He needed something hunted, she knew how to do that. It was familiar and simple in the way that nothing had been since she'd been taken.

She'd even given him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he'd simply confused the boar for one of the brain-creatures in the chaos of the crash site, but she'd caught the glint of bright light reflected off metal dancing through the dry grass and turned just in time to avoid the knife.

But Triel had misjudged him. It wasn't about that at all, just a misunderstanding based in justified fear of their captors. It sends a wary chill down her back, knowing he'd seen her and she hadn't noticed him— she's used to being the one observing, unseen— but more still, that she'd evidently walked past him without trying to help. Despite this, Astarion was, from the first... friendly.

Astarion had actually smiled, sighing in relief when he realised she wasn't a threat. He'd been pleasantly talkative once the initial shock of their prognosis had passed and he'd agreed to join them in search of a solution. It was a relief from the stilted silence she hadn't known how to break. Astarion had introduced himself, and was the first to actually answer when she asked him about himself—then been kind enough to translate into Elvish when she hadn't know what the Common word 'magistrate' meant ('arbiter of legal disputes', she'd learned).

Not something she had considered, needing someone to rule on conflict. It made sense with so many people in the city he'd mentioned. The glimpse of it she had caught in his mind was unlike anything she'd seen, like dozens of the sleepy little surface settlements she watched from afar piled on top of one another. It was overwhelming and fascinating. Her people were few, their lives so closely intertwined, matters that couldn't be worked out amicably were always resolved by—

Triel is struck with a pang of homesickness that knocks the wind from her lungs and settles as a lump in her throat, but if Astarion has noticed he's polite enough not to comment as she collects herself.

"Is it bothering you?" He does say, after a time walking in silence.

Triel looks up, startled out of her diversion.

"The sun, I mean," he prods when she doesn't seem to follow. Astarion gestures to her. She's wandered off the dirt road, preferring the shade cast by the trees alongside, even if it means negotiating the uneven terrain. "It doesn't seem to be affecting your vision."

"Oh." So he's observant, too. "No, I... I can see, though I have no idea how. I would normally be completely blind in daylight like this."

“Ah,” he says brightly. “Well, this must be a treat, then.”

The strange expanse of surface is hot and sundrenched, the patches of shade only a momentary relief. Triel can feel it beating through the dark leather of her armour. She’s been above ground in daylight before, but only as something she’s endured through bleary, watering eyes. The sky is an open, endless blue, empty save the scorching ball of the sun and useless wisps of white cloud that do nothing to obscure its fury. There’s no pain, but now that she can see, familiar sights of mountain path and forest are alien— too bright, too loud, and she finds herself anxious for the gentle darkness of night.

But Astarion loves it. He seems to glow where the light catches his pale skin, his white hair, head tipped back as he basks, taking in a deep breath of warm noonday air. “It must be the worm, mustn’t it?” He says, snapping her out of another nervous scan of the open sky. “They want us alive, after all. Can’t have you wandering off a cliff, or eaten by direwolves, or, well,” he laughs, apologetically, “eviscerated by a paranoid high-elf?”

She’s surprised by the laugh that she has to stifle. How at ease he makes her feel, despite the overwhelming circumstances that make her dizzy when she tries to think too much about them. It feels…. Good, to have people around her, again. Lae’zel is certain the Githyanki crèche is nearby, and that they can cure the infection, provided they don’t find another healer first. They have a plan. There is a course of action to be taken, and that’s kept her from despairing, but she thinks this is the first time she’s smiled since she was home.

“Almost makes you want to keep it, doesn’t it?” He’s crept into the shadows beside her so he can lower his voice, conspiratorial, eyes on Lae’zel ahead to be sure she hasn’t heard.

Triel raises an eyebrow. This isn’t the first time he’s said something along these lines. “I am very eager to be rid of it,” she replies, “by any means necessary.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, I’m certainly not advocating… Mindflayerism. Perish the thought,” he makes a face, shudders theatrically. “I mean, perhaps there’s a way to render the worms harmless. Control them. It must be nice, being able to see in daylight? Useful. You could enjoy it, even. It’s lovely out there, you know.” He gestures to the sunny side of the road, drifts away as they walk to step back into it, then motions for her to join him.

She can’t.

Triel’dra stops at the edge of the pool of shadows cast by copse of trees and can’t bring herself to look at him watching her. It’s just a stretch of sunlight but it feels like fording a river— an undertaking, something to be endured to get to the other side, to the next blessed patch of darkness. It’s early afternoon, and the shadows are few and meagre, the next patch of shade a long way off.

She’s being ridiculous.

She’s travelling with surface dwellers. They sleep at night and travel by day, she’s going to need to get used to this.

The others have noticed. Up ahead, Shadowheart and Lae’zel have stopped and turned.

“Is everything alright?” There’s a tinge of impatience in the cleric’s voice. Her gaze turns to Astarion and her brows furrow, she thinks he’s done something.

“Chk!” Lae’zel makes that irritated hissing click in her throat. “We do not have time for this! I will drag you along or leave you behind if you cannot keep up.”

“Yes,” Triel calls back. “It is fine. I am fine. I will be right there.”

Triel takes a breath, shades her eyes and steps into the sun, falling back into step beside Astarion who is smiling at her, though there’s something else to it that she can only assume is him reevaluating his estimations of her. She can feel her face burning, and not just from the heat.

“Well,” he begins, briskly, trying to change the mood. “You really aren’t a fan of it, are you? But see, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

She has to admit, it isn’t terrible. She would still prefer night, obviously, but this is alright, what the heat is likely doing to all the wheels of cheese in her pack, aside. Slowly, reluctantly, she lets her hands fall back to her sides, lets her eyes adjust to the tadpole-tempered light. She tries not to think about how open the yawning blue void of the sky is above her, how exposed, how visible she is.

“There is a saying, in my language: oloth zhah tuth abbil lueth ogglin. The darkness is both friend and enemy.” She sighs, finally daring to really look up at Astarion. He’s watching her carefully, intent. Those red eyes send an instinctual shiver down her spine, but she brushes it aside. “The light has only ever been an enemy—” She cries out, her hand flying to press against the sudden stabbing pain behind her eye.

Oh no. No, no, not again.

She can feel the tadpole shifting in her skull, sifting through her thoughts, dragging a memory to the surface.

The pain she expects washes over her, the light piercing, tears streaming down her blood streaked face, one eye struggling against the brightness, the other swollen shut. Triel is on her back, doused in sweat, baking under the sun and too weak to crawl for cover. The pain radiating from the festering wound in her hip has long since gone numb, poison spread through her veins as the day stretches on in a feverish daze of delirious terror just waiting to die—

With a cry, Triel wrenches herself free of the memory’s grasp. To her horror, Astarion is clutching at his head again too, his chest heaving as hers is, still recovering from the feeling of it. He’s seen. Her mouth works uselessly, that mortified heat creeping back into her cheeks, small and pathetic and desperate to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“I did not mean— ah. I am sorry, I do not understand why that happens, I—” Gods all help her, she’s stammering like an idiot.

Astarion straightens, clears his throat. His hand moves away from the shared pain in their heads to smooth down his clothing, reclaiming that noble, put together kind of air he has in a moment. “Yes, well, no harm done. We’re all adjusting to our…. Uninvited guests.” He smiles, but she sees those red eyes tracing the ugly scar across her face.

Merciful Sehanine, strike me down now.

Triel’dra hadn’t realised Shadowheart had turned back until her armored hand is on Triel’s shoulder, studying her with a quirked eyebrow. “You alright?” The cleric eyes her sceptically as she nods, breathless, pushing aside damp hair that is not there but that she can still feel plastered to her face with sweat.

“Yes, I am fine,” Triel assures her. “The tadpole was acting up, but it has stopped.” Thankfully, a feeling catches her attention, saves her from this awkward interaction. Especially before Lae’zel can chime in; Triel is certain that she’ll have thoughts on increased parasite activity and she’d rather avoid another argument if she can.

It’s strange to consider the differences between the invisible bonds tethering her to other creatures. This tadpole is unnerving and invasive, crawling behind her eye and reaching out to probe the thoughts of everyone so afflicted, offering up her weakest moments for all to see. Her connection to her familiar, though, is a comfort.

Triel’dra feels Erelae’s presence before she sees the dark spot in the sky as the raven wheels overhead and swoops back down to light on her shoulder. She’s being such a good sport about this form. Erelae is usually a bat or an owl, but the surface in daylight isn’t kind to either creature, and she’s far less conspicuous this way. Erelae ruffles her feathers, nips at her ear with her beak, anxious but not panicked.

“There is something up ahead,” she tells the others, before turning back to her friend. “Like before? More wreckage?” The raven rasps a sound she understands as affirmative.

Refocused, the party sets off carefully towards the far-flung debris of the nautiloid in hopes of anything of interest but all they find is a dying haszak— Mind Flayer, in Common, Astarion tells her, though he and Shadowheart have heard the Undercommon ilithid, too.

She is so tired of things prying into her thoughts, twisting them, manufacturing them.

The injured mindflayer tries to claw its way into her brain, so she puts her boot through his.

She’s not sure who suggests making camp, but skull pounding, heart racing, spattered in haszak ichor, Triel’dra can’t disagree.

They decide to circle back to the temple they’d explored earlier in the day, take another look for anything they might be able to scavenge for bedding and shelter, especially with another pair of eyes and arms. Filling Astarion in on the details of the morning’s escapades was a welcome relief from their earlier conversation, though it did nag at her. Left hanging, unresolved.

Triel tries, as they set off in search of a campsite near the river with better access to water not contaminated by bodies and a ship made from one hundred tons of rotting crintishik. She falls into step beside Astarion again, a feat given his much longer stride. He slows for her, and something tightens in her chest. The tips of her ears are uncomfortably warm.

She makes an effort not to falter when the shadow of the temple, finally lengthening as the afternoon dwindles into evening, ends, but she still tenses visibly, bracing herself, and sighs at her own failure. “I know it’s alright,” she tries to explain, once again taking a moment to thank blessed Sehanine that she has someone to talk to. “The thinking part of my brain knows, but… When something has always hurt you, it is difficult to believe it will not again.”

Her Common is poor, and she must be talking nonsense, because Astarion doesn’t answer. He just hums thoughtfully, to be polite, she imagines, and thankfully it’s not long before she spots an ideal place to make camp and then there’s too much to do to feel uncomfortable.

She helps set up, to gather water, to make a fire pit and gather wood. This is what she’s best at, and keeping busy, feeling useful, soothes that nervous ache like nothing else.

Astarion disappears for a while— he says something about tidying himself up, which makes her laugh to herself, secretly. He’s the least battered of them all, but there’s smoke and ash and probably mindflayer fluids (thanks to her) and he strikes her as the fastidious type.

“Avoiding the hard work,” is Shadowheart’s take on it.

Triel doesn’t mind. Honestly, she’s used to doing these things alone, and inexperienced help can be more harm than good. Her only worry is that he seems to be gone for a while, and alone, but Astarion returns just as she begins to think she should go look for him. Sure enough, the elf saunters back into camp, his hair damp, his face scrubbed clean, and sets right back to arranging the pile of cushions he’s hoarded.

Triel’s pack is heavy with every edible thing she’s set eyes on all day, but these provisions will keep and it seems wise to save them for leaner times. Here, game and foragables are plentiful, and with a quick word to the others she sets off after one of those boars she’d been lured with earlier.

She returns later with an ample supply of herbs, plants, and a few river fish.

From where she’d set up her tent, Shadowheart smiles, a wry smirk as she eyes Triel’s catch. “No luck with the boars, then?”

“There is something wrong with the boars.”

“Sure there is.” Shadowheart rises from where she’d been knelt in prayer, following Triel to the campfire.

“I found a dead one,” Triel says as she continues her work. She sets the plants aside for later, then arranges the fish over the fire on cleaned sticks. “I could not tell what killed it. It may have been sick; I do not think we should eat them.”

Across from the fire, Astarion is watching them, a book he’d taken from the temple open in his lap. He’d been as interested in the many dusty tomes as she had, and between the two of them they’d amassed quite a little library. His gaze is intent, and those red eyes give her another misplaced jolt of panic. These are not the eyes she knows to fear, and she admonishes herself quietly.

It’s hardly this surface-elf’s fault he has the eyes of a Lolthite.

“These should not take too long,” she assures him, forcing a smile as she stands, gathering up the plants to take down to the river to wash. She’d found wild onions and blushcaps that would be satisfying if cooked now, and plentiful herbs to be dried for later.

His smile is tight, wincing. “I’m… actually not particularly hungry,” he admits. “Nothing against your… very resourceful culinary skills, of course,” from the wary way he’s eyeing the campfire, she suspects he has concerns. “Today has been… a lot. Not to worry, I’ll just scrounge up something later.”

“Alright.” Triel’s brows furrow, and she tries not to look him over too obviously. When would he have eaten last? Today was taxing and tomorrow promises more of the same. “Well, there is plenty of food in my pack, please feel free. You need to keep your strength up.”

He’s giving her that look again, like she’s said something odd, and she isn’t sure if it’s her Common or something she doesn’t understand about surface-folk. Is it her tent? Perhaps he doesn’t want to go into her space to retrieve something. Is it because she’s female? She knows colnbluth have strange (hilarious, honestly) customs about gender, but she supposes walking into a strange drow man’s sleeping quarters and helping herself to something would be…. Yes, that would be highly questionable. “I’ll leave it by the door,” she reassures him.

He thanks her as she starts off for the riverbank, but he’d sounded somewhat baffled and she gets the impression she’s said the wrong thing again.

She is so much better at making campfires than friends.

The sun is finally setting and she can’t help but sigh with relief at the dimming twilight. The air is cooling, the sunset reflected in the dark water. She’ll wait until night falls properly before praying for the evening.

If ever there was a time for it, it’s now.

Triel’dra manages to put together a decent enough dinner, but even the smell of cooking meat and onions doesn’t tempt Astarion away from his book. Shadowheart seems to have warmed to her a little as she sits down around the fire to eat with the others, but Lae’zel is restless and irritable, wolfing down her fish and then stalking back to her tent muttering about what a waste of time this is. She won’t speak to Triel afterwards, either.

Of all of them, Triel’dra is probably the least inclined to rest now. The sky is beautifully dark, the moon is clear, the world crisp and calm and welcoming, but she’s bruised and her magic exhausted from the day’s battles and she’ll be far better equipped for whatever lies ahead after a trance.

She excuses herself to the edge of the clearing, back to the river. It seems like the best place to clear her head. The water shimmers, stars glistening above and reflected below. She’d invited Shadowheart to join her, but the cleric is secretive in her devotions and vehemently refused.

Triel kneels, taking a deep breath of night air, and takes the necklace from beneath her shirt, clasps it in her hand. The thin metal pieces are familiar and comforting in her hands, three phases of the moon, full, half, and crescent, for She Who Is Three and Is One.

Her heart aches as she thinks of home, prays for Sehanine to watch over her people, her family. But selfishly, she can’t help but pray for herself. I want to go home. She tries to focus on the things that matter but beneath it the thoughts are there, betraying her. Please, help me.

Triel sighs, and rises back to her feet. If she was the kind of person who deserved The Lady of Dreams’ blessing, she wouldn’t have asked for it. She never has been.

Her gloom lifts for a moment when she spots a painfully thin figure amongst the reeds on her way back to camp, and finds Withers has followed them. She smiles, acknowledges him, and he responds with a solemn nod of his head before returning his attention to the heavy book in his desiccated hands.

“Before anyone is alarmed,” Triel announces as she makes her way back to the clearing and the glowing embers in the firepit, “the mummified fellow from the ruined temple is by the riverbank.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” Astarion looks up from the pile of pillows and blankets he seems to be continually rearranging. He’s a little frazzled, pushing white curls out of his face, on his hands and knees trying to get everything just so. It’s like watching a very industrious stoat nesting, and she shouldn’t find it as amusing as she does.

“Withers. Did I not get to Withers? We found him in a sarcophagus in the ruins. Very cryptic, but harmless, I think.”

“Well. I missed an interesting morning.”

Astarion is used to his city and struggling with the outdoors. This isn’t his idea of a comfortable night’s rest, but he’s making the best of it.

She has red clover and valerian drying by her tent, and she’s maybe a little too eager to offer to brew up a nice tea, something to help him settle in. He declines politely. “You sleep,” he assures her. “I’ll keep watch.”

She should stay up. She should stay up and protect the camp herself, but… she trusts him, and besides, Erelae is perched in a nearby tree, keeping careful watch, and she’ll be alert enough to rouse easily. She’ll trance, trade off with him when she’s rested. Between two elves, they’ll have the night well covered.

“Thank you,” she replies. “I will rest better for it. Wake me when you’re ready to switch out.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Those red eyes look into her own and he smiles in that way that makes the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Sweet dreams.”

Trieldra’s stomach flips, her heart does something fond and foolish in her chest. She knows better than to pay them any mind.

As she turns to retire for the night, Astarion cracks open a book and she remembers something else she’d been meaning to ask him. “Oh, ah,” she turns back, “there is one more thing. I hate to trouble you again, you have been so helpful already,” he looks very pleased with himself, “but I found a book I do not understand. Reading Common is difficult for me; there is another word I do not know featured prominently. I was wondering if you would mind translating?”

“Of course, darling. I’d be happy to,” Astarion obliges, snapping his own book shut again and waiting as she hastens to the pack she did indeed drag to the opening of her tent, and fishes out the item in question.

Darling. That is awfully familiar, isn’t it? Endearment? She shakes her head, chastises herself. She barely speaks Common, she has no idea about connotation.

“Here,” she offers the dusty volume she’d found in the ruins with its worn green leather cover. The title might have been on the spine but it’s long since worn away so she flips it open to hold up the first page with its large, dramatic lettering. “‘Curse of the…..’ This word. What is this?” She taps the oddity excitably.

Astarion doesn’t answer.

If anything, the little colour he has seems to drain from his face, leaving him ghostly pallid in the moonlight. His mouth quirks for a moment like he’s going to say something, jaw tightening, but he just stares at her in mute horror.

“Oh. Oh no. It is not profane, is it? I found it in a temple, it did not occur to me—”

“No. No, it’s nothing like that.” Astarion’s voice is soft, distant. His mind is somewhere else and she’s now certain she’s done something horribly wrong. “You don’t know what a vampire is?”

“I may? I do not know the word, I may know the thing. What is it in Elvish?”

“The same— there isn’t one, It’s…” he stops, thinking, resting his mouth against his knuckles. “A vampire” he begins carefully, “ is an undead creature that drinks blood.”

“Ah, yes!” She brightens. That description does spark something, something alluded to occasionally, but not often. He looks so uncomfortable. Was he afraid to scare her? Is he afraid? “We say qu'lithplynn in Drow. Blood-thief. Is this what you mean? With the sharp stick?” She mimes stabbing something and he laughs, a high, tight sound.

“Hm. Yes. Yes, that.” Astarion clears his throat, regains his composure in an instant, and that easy smile is back. “Tell you what, why don’t you give that to me? I can trade you…. Hmm,” He glances down at the book in his hands, its cover bright red and well-worn. “Journey Through the Jungle,” he reads. “Honestly, I’m getting the impression this is more suited for children, so not a bad read for someone’s… third? Language.”

“Fourth, if you consider Undercommon as distinct from Drow,” she sighs. “This is the only one that uses Thorass.”

“Nine sweet Hells, no wonder.” He plucks the first book from her grasp and deftly presses the new one into her hands. “I’ll take a look at this, maybe jot some elvish beside anything unusual.”

“Thank you!” Triel takes the book, drops her arms when she catches herself hugging it to her chest. “Thank you,” she repeats more calmly when she’s reigned in the mortifying warm feeling in her chest. You’re dying, she reminds herself, and that does it, a splash of cold water to her skipping heart. She needs only to think about it and she can feel the thing writhing in her brain; her stomach roils.

Much better.

It’s ridiculous, but focusing on this one little glimmer of… of humour, or warmth, or whatever it is, is so tempting in the chaos and terror of everything else, desperate to latch on to anything she can as if to keep from drowning.

Triel’dra knows better.

She bids him goodnight, and retreats to her tent, closing the doorway, pack still just inside, and curling up in the small space to let herself drift into that misty, in-between place of reverie. In her mind she recites familiar prayers, verse after verse to each of the Seldarine until the thoughts stop deep in her trance.

It takes far longer than it should.

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#astarion x tav #my tav #Triel tav #Triel'dra Helvimtor #AG writes things #bg3 #bg3 tav

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