#dndads fic

[hermanunworthy]

The Curse of... Whatever His Name Was!

Hermie is a dead student haunting the school, but nobody remembers them... Except for Normal, who swears on his life that his school is haunted, but nobody believes him.

5 chapters, 66k words, oakworthy, ghost hermie au, angst, enemies to lovers, normal pov

the LONGEST siren solo fic is now here!! the idea for this one has been a year in the making, and i am so excited to finally share it w u guys!

read on ao3!

[strivia]

Aka, a spin on my fic Let's Play With My Other Knife in Jodie's Timeline.

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jodie "Joe" Foster & Ron Stampler, Dennis Anderson | Mark Likely & Ron Stampler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Jodie's Timeline, Episode 34: Dedicated Involved Loving Fathers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ron still brings up his concerns in Episode 34 but Mark doesn't reveal herself, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Chapters 1 & 2 of LPWMOK are canon to this fic, and from then forward it is divergent by virtue of Jodie's Timeline, Gaslighting, Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst, False Memories, Memory Magic, Mind Games, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Protective Jodie Foster (Dungeons and Daddies), Ron & Jodie's blood bond 

Summary:

Sanctuary: You ward a creature within range against attack. Until the spell ends, any creature who targets the warded creature with an attack or a harmful spell must first make a Wisdom saving throw.

Aka, a spin on my fic Let's Play With My Other Knife in Jodie's Timeline.

If there’s one thing about me I’ll be a freak about Ron & Jodie’s blood bond.

[apricior]

getting back into rhythm (one step at a time)

Hermie's life has been shit lately: his acting career has not taken off, he's had to come back to San Dimas and, worst of all, he got an audition for a role only because he lied about his dancing abilities. When he meets an old friend from college who tells him that his boyfriend is a dance teacher and that he can help him get that role, Hermie feels that, for once, things might be going well for him. That is, until he sees that the teacher in question is Normal Oak.

[read on ao3]

happy sixth anniversary to dndads!!! i couldn't miss the occasion, so here is the first chapter of an oakworthy fic i've been working on recently <3

[froggieco]

Hi y'all, I'm trying something new so bear with me.

So, to make a long story short, I'm in this lovely campaign that takes place in the dndads universe where they never got home from faerun. Now, a group of four moms and their children have been sucked to faerun where they are now looking for their kids and why they are there. It's really awesome and cool and I'm so honored to be apart of this group of amazing people.

Why am I telling you all of this, you might be asking yourself. Well, due to my insane nature and need to go into more detail than necessary I have been writing what is turning out to be a book about my character.

I haven't written anything before but being apart of this whole process has inspired me and rather than keeping all of this to myself I thought I would post it, maybe someone else would end up liking Christine as well! This is also a chance to hopefully improve my writing skills lol

So! In the link below you'll find my wonderous fic of the Life and Diary of Christine Dotson. I do hope you'll give it a peek!

TL;DR

I wrote a fic about my dndads based campaign character and it's my first time writing, I accidentally threw my whole ass into it and I'd love for people to see it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60604318/chapters/154737262

[cosmiado]

what if i said. 12k hurt/comfort post-canon oakworthy where Hermie's a zombie. what would you even do

[cookies-over-yonder]

right there where you left it, lying upside down

The teens spend some time resting and recovering at the Oak-Swallows-Garcia household.

It's been days, and Taylor hasn't said a word.

[title from everything stays from adventure time]

for @cookies-over-yonder (yes, me. i wrote this for me. fuck.)

ao3

“How—how are you guys? I—I—I’m… I’m—I’m not fine… but—but I’m… just…”

Normal sucks in a breath and swipes at his tears. Sparrow squeezes his shoulder. There’s fresh burn scars scattered across his body, but his eyes are open, and he’s breathing, and he’s alive, and stable—physically anyway—and that’s really all she could ask for. It’s been days. She doesn’t know how many. She doesn’t think anyone does. Lark isn’t happy, and neither is she. The kids need to rest.

And one of them is dead .

A backyard burial without their own parents. Lark thought it was unnecessary and that they were just losing time. Sparrow thinks he’s the only one who didn’t cry.

“I’m, uh… I guess I’m okay, Norm,” Scary answers, still holding his hand like it's his last lifeline. Sparrow isn’t sure she’s let go at all, or if she ever will.

Her voice is shaking like her hands, and her eyes are wide. No tears now, but her face is red from the way there were earlier.

She spares a quick glance to Link before bringing her gaze back to Normal, and then to the Doodler— Dood , lying in Normal’s lap. Asleep? Can it sleep?

She’s been pressed up against Normal nonstop, leaning on him, laying on him, like an eldritch weighted blanket.

“Yeah, same,” Link says, though the way he’s been anxiously wringing his hands together for the past few hours says otherwise. It… reminds Sparrow a little of Grant. The anxious mannerisms, the inflections of his voice, it’s… he’s left an imprint. For sure.

“Taylor?” Normal asks, glancing over at the kid half in his sleeping bag, half sitting up against the wall with a pillow wrapped in his arms.

And there’s nothing but silence.

At first, Sparrow thinks he’s asleep, but through the darkness there’s the faint glow of his sclera. A trait Sparrow knew well from Nicky. The demonic glow seems to have passed down, reflected in little Taylor. Normal’s spare clothes seem to fit him a lot nicer than the other two, probably since he’s quite short in stature.

“Taylor?” Link echoes. They’re all looking at him now, and still, he doesn’t say a word.

Link reaches out a hand and taps Taylor’s ankle.

He’s awake, eyes wide and staring straight ahead. His breathing is slow and steady, but still, he’s not responding.

…

Come to think of it, Taylor’s quite chatty, and yet Sparrow isn’t sure he’s spoken since they got inside the FBI’s headquarters.

He hasn’t said a word since Hermie…

Oh, Taylor…

The others glance at each other worriedly. Sparrow puts up a hand when she sees them start to move closer to him—crowding wouldn’t be the best idea.

Instead, Sparrow lets herself leave Normal’s side only for a moment, and she crawls over to him. Taylor’s eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape, revealing the point of a fang. His lips are horribly chapped and bloody—some of that blood looks fresh.

“Taylor,” Sparrow says so low it could almost be a whisper, lifting a hand to his shoulder, before placing it down slowly for little chance of startling him. “Can you hear me?”

Taylor blinks and continues staring off.

Sparrow thinks she might cry again. Had he been dissociating this whole time and she hadn’t noticed?

She squeezes Taylor’s shoulder and starts to run her hand up and down Taylor’s arm.

“Hey, okay, just listen to me, hon. I know it’s really scary, but you’re safe right now. I need you to try and focus on me.”

Taylor still shows no sign of acknowledgement.

“What’s wrong with him?” Scary asks, matching Sparrow’s volume.

“He’s just in shock,” she answers, though she’s not sure what she can do anymore. Grounding techniques… many used and many forgotten…

“Lincoln, could… you get me an ice pack from the freezer?”

He nods, and he’s off immediately.

Here’s to hoping that’ll work, she thinks, carefully prying Taylor’s hands away from the pillow and holding them in her own.

Link returns swiftly with the ice pack and she takes it, lets go of Taylor briefly to wrap it inside a loose pillowcase, and places it in his hands, holding the backs of them steady, making sure he can feel the ice.

It’s something that worked for Lark growing up, she remembers. Something about strong physical sensations pulling you out of your head and back to the present.

Taylor’s gaze breaks away from whatever distant spot it was locked on, and he’s looking at their hands and the ice. That’s good. This is good.

“Can you feel that, Taylor?” she asks.

“‘S cold…” he mumbles, his voice so small, so fragile, she almost can’t hear it.

“It is. Keep focusing on it, okay?”

Taylor closes his eyes, and his hands start to shake. Sparrow suspects it isn’t purely from the cold.

Especially when it spreads. Anxious trembles running across his body. After a while, he speaks again.

“I…” he mumbles, opening his eyes, “Wha…”

He looks at Sparrow. And actually at her. Not past her. Not through her.

“Can you hear me?” she asks again.

“Ye…yeah… hi…”

“Hey, kiddo.”

Taylor looks at the walls, and then at the floor, and then at the ceiling, and then out the window. “Um…”

“We’re at your friend Normal’s house. We’ve been staying here for a little bit,” she tells him, sensing his confusion.

“Right. I… I knew that…” he says, looking over at Link, then Scary, then Normal. Sparrow takes her hands and slides them up and down his arms once more, when he starts another question…

“Where’s… where’s—”

He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, and oh, it hurts .

He’s just a kid.

They’re all kids .

Sparrow thinks she might cry.

Taylor stands up fast, dropping the ice and breathing faster, and Sparrow is quick to catch him when he starts tipping over. His body temperature much higher than before, much like Nicky when he’d start to panic.

“Let’s sit back down,” she says, guiding him back to the sleeping bag. He’s hyperventilating now.

“That—Hermie—tha… that’s… that wasn’t real, right?” he asks between breaths.

“Taylor, hey, slow dow—”

“It wasn’t, right? ” he asks again, his voice gaining more strength however strained it might be.

Sparrow doesn’t know what to say.

“I mean—he’s, like, freakishly resilient! Or—or—or—or just lucky… either… either way! There’s no way!” he continues, yelling now, locking eyes with everyone one by one and bordering on hysteria. “Why aren’t you guys saying anything!?”

Scary starts, “Taylor—”

“We buried him in the backyard,” Link finishes.

Taylor lets out a choked squeak sort of noise, and the waterworks start. It’s not sobs, just a steady stream of tears as the frantic breaths continue. “Maybe it was a—a—another scam…?”

“It’s been days, Taylor,” Scary says.

“ Days? ”

“Ye—”

Before Scary can finish her sentence, Taylor is booking it out the door and into the yard, nearly tripping over himself but stumbling out nonetheless.

“Taylor!” two simultaneous calls from Link and Scary as they get up and chase after him.

Sparrow’s about to follow when she sees her son has stayed put.

Curled in on himself.

Crying.

It’s something she’s seen much of lately, and every time, more of her shatters.

Dood stirs, and turns to wrap his arms around Normal’s waist. The purple static is exceedingly hard to look directly at, but Sparrow’s heart aches nonetheless.

She just wants to make it all go away…

“Oh my god!”

“Taylor, stop! ”

Screams from the backyard.

Sparrow runs out.

Taylor is squirming in Link’s grip, breathing harder and faster than before.

“ Let me go! ” he screams, punching Link in the arm repeatedly with dirtied fists—

Dirtied fists…?

Sparrow’s gaze slips from Taylor to Scary, who’s standing in front of the grave with her arms outstretched, like she’s guarding it. And the grave… oh…

It’s a mess.

The flower has toppled over, and bits of dirt are spread around it.

Oh.

Oh, Taylor .

“ Ow! ” Link shouts. Taylor is kicking at his legs now.

“Fucking— let go! ” Taylor screams again, and the sheer volume could wake up the whole of San Dimas.

“I won’t. You’re—you’re not stable right now, man!”

Taylor lets out a whine, and Link yelps in pain, claw-like nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

“Put me—put me down!” he whines. His face is red, he’s trembling worse, and he’s sucking in breaths like he’s trapped underwater and his lungs have lost their air.

“Taylor, breathe !” Link shouts, his voice strained. Blood trickles down his arm from where Taylor’s piercing the skin.

“Let me go!”

“You know that I won’t.”

Taylor only wheezes in response, pulling his hands away for a moment, revealing bloodied nails, before feebly attempting to pry Link’s arms off him once more.

“Taylor, listen to me,” Link says, holding him tighter and taking on a gentler tone, “stop fighting, it’s not worth it.”

Somehow, this calms him some—well, it stops him from actively attacking.

His head tips forward a little, and his eyes start to droop.

“Taylor, hey, hey, hey, breathe. Breathe. You’re gonna pass out,” Link says, turning Taylor around so he’s pressed up against Link’s chest, and taking an exaggerated breath in for Taylor to follow. He doesn’t.

“But…” he whines.

“There’s no use,” Scary says, taking a step closer to the two. “He’s gone, and I don’t think… looking at his body will change that. It might just make you throw up.”

Taylor lets out a small squeak, and, at last, a sob rips through him.

And another. And another. And another.

A cacophony of sobs becomes muffled in an instant when Link holds him closer, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back, his eyes glassy with newfound tears. Scary holds his hand in one of hers and rubs his arm with her other, tears sliding down her face as well.

Sparrow approaches the grave.

She moves the dirt back where it belongs, restoring the even surface it had before, and she’s careful to pick up the flower and not hurt it when she replants it, upright and steady, patting down the dirt around it to keep it secure.

She hopes this didn’t disturb their rest, but if it did, she hopes they know how much Taylor cares.

[guiltandrecourse]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/68044731/chapters/195124381#workskin

updated !! yay !!

[tech-sapphy]

the dndads brainworms won’t let me go and i’ve been listening to a lot of broadway these past few days while thinking about dndads. a dangerous mix for my emotions. that means i Had to write some fic (marloakworthy you’re canon and real to me)

also i hc hermie as genderfluid. so here’s a thing i wrote on a whim

-

Makeup is, generally speaking, something that Hermie is more than used to. Stage makeup was always necessary, after all, and so that was what they were used to doing.

It’s also why, when he, Normal, and Scary got ready for their date night, Hermie was thrown for a bit of a loop seeing how she did her makeup.

He watched her relax as she did it, even as she was explaining it to them. She opted for a pink eyeshadow, using some black eyeshadow at the creases of her lids and blending it down to make it all a little darker, giving it an ombré effect. She also started to add extra wings to her eyeliner, smiling as she did. It already looked good, but she liked it.

Hermie admired how she did it to express herself rather than a role.

Neither he or Normal could stop staring at her. She was clearly basking in the attention, but he didn’t care.

Normal was the first to speak up. “…Can you do some for me?”

His eyes were wide, soft, with hope. No doubt an excuse to get close - which Scary probably clocked, by her smile and eye roll.

“Whatever floats your boat, Norm.”

Luckily, she had colors more than black - so Normal’s look was one with some brighter blues and greens, and she gave him some eyeliner too, at his request, with less of a sharp wing than her own. Her hand cradled each of his un-made up cheeks as she worked, and Normal leaned into it.

It was sickeningly cute.

Hermie’s heart leapt in joy, seeing them be so sweet. It was also beating, fast.

He admired them and he wanted to be close to them too, but he knew his heart beating was partially him wanting to be on that makeup chair.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s dedicated to doing the right makeup for his roles…but he doesn’t have one right now, and he still finds that he wants to do some makeup anyways.

Maybe it could help him find who ‘Hermie’ really was.

“What do you think, Hermie??” Normal reaches out to him, grabbing a hand. Hermie holds it in return, planting a kiss on the back of it.

“You’re radiant.” Normal blushes.

As Hermie sets Normal’s hand down, he can’t help but glance down at the makeup still set out on the counter. Some colors catch his eye. He looks to Scary, who he finds is smiling at them. She almost looks away, but Hermie is inclined to ask his question before she does.

“Well well well, we can’t go out on a date together if we’re not all matching. Scary, if you would be so kind…”

Hermie picks up a compacted container of eyeshadow, one that caught his eye earlier. A dark purple.

Scary groans, but is all smiles. Maybe she’s trying to hide it, maybe not, but Hermie can tell she’s more than happy to do it. Especially since she quickly reaches for a tube by the sink.

“You guys are so cute. You need primer first, otherwise it’s gonna stain or it’s not gonna stay. And it’d be suuuuch a tragedy if it didn’t stay.”

Indeed it would be, Scary. Indeed it would.

—

For how much of a powerhouse Scary has proven herself to be, Hermie understands why Normal leaned so close into her touch.

She’s incredibly gentle as she holds his face. He admires her range.

He also enjoys the feeling of the makeup. The eye primer was cold - but the brush it was blended with was firm, warming it up quickly.

Then there was the eyeshadow. Hermie kept tapping at his knees, in rhythm to the music that was playing softly from Scary’s phone speaker.

He closed his eyes as Scary raised the brush from the compact, covered in purple. He also leaned into the hand on his chin, just a little- he didn’t want to mess up the angle too badly. But he was right across from the mirror, so he couldn’t quite help…

“Wow, you’re really good at this, Scary!” Normal exclaims.

“Yeah, well, it might be easier if you stop trying to open your eyes, Hermie.”

“Sorry, sorry, my dear. Shouldn’t try and get a glance before your masterpiece is complete, I know.”

Normal laughed and Scary huffed at the nickname, her bangs blowing up as she did.

“You’re lucky the eyeshadow is done, but we still need some eyeliner. Close your eyes, you dork.”

Affectionate as could be.

He’s glancing down at the liners she has laid out - there are two. Both are black, but one is liquid and one is a pencil.

Both she and Normal had liquid eyeliner. He wanted to match with them, right?

So he doesn’t quite know why he reaches for the pencil. But he does, and hands it to her. She looks a little surprised, but not opposed.

“Oh, sure.”

“Oooh, good choice, Hermie! I think that’ll look good with the eyeshadow! Y’know, since it’s a bit darker!” Normal points out.

Hermie closes his eyes as he replies, “Of course. As you know, I have impeccable taste in style.”

Scary snorts.

“Oh, how you wound me, Scary.” He responds, leaning into the hand on his cheek.

The pencil felt weird. Not bad, just different. Not quite as smooth, but not bad. Eventually, Scary’s hands left his face.

He opened his eyes to look in the mirror, but Normal turned the swivel chair around before he could.

“Normal, what are you doing?”

“Can’t look at the masterpiece before the artist is done, remember?” He grins.

Hermie sighs, just as Scary - also grinning - is applying some bits of blush to his cheeks. He probably won’t need it tonight, knowing his reactions to his partners doing so much as holding his hand (as much as he tries to hide it), but he doesn’t protest.

She then holds out some tubes to him. Lipstick and lip gloss.

“Want any?”

He’s… he’s only ever worn it for his roles. Only ever red, bright enough to be befitting of The Joker and Poison Ivy.

Looking at the labels on the tubes, there’s one that is bright red. He’s about to reach out to point to it when he sees it - it’s almost second nature.

But before he can gesture to it, Scary pulls them away, looking through them.

“Not all of these would look right with your eyes, though.” She picks through a few of them, Hermie hears her set some down on the counter. Over his shoulder, he sees Normal point to a couple tubes, but he can’t see what colors they are.

“Good eye, Norm.”

They both turn back to him, each holding a tube. Both matte, one of them is a dark blue that almost looks black and the other is a nude pink. It's one he recognizes as a color his co-stars often used in their stage makeup, a shade that wasn't too noticeable.

“Wanna do half and half?” Normal suggests.

“It’d look metal as hell.” Scary points out.

He likes that idea. He really likes that idea. So much that he almost wants to cry. He nods, and immediately looks up just a little bit.

To stop himself from ruining the makeup? So that they don’t see?

Either way, both happen as Normal and Scary each apply a color on his lips at the same time.

“No, wait, stop there Norm-“

“But hear me out, we could also do a different pattern!”

“No, we’re not going to do that.“

Hermie is tempted to laugh, but refrains, so as to not mess anything up. Their bickering makes him feel… comfortable. Content.

At home.

He’s never really known what that felt like. His characters never did, either. So he really has no frame of reference, nothing more than observations of his friends with their families.

But he suspects that this new feeling, of contentment and of his mind Not racing with thoughts and clever lines - just needing to do what he wants rather than live up to some expectation or role -

That might be what home feels like. He's not sure, but it's enough for him.

“Okay, ready for the final reveal??” Normal and Scary both hold one of his hands after they turn the chair to face the mirror.

He opens his eyes.

He looks different. So different.

The eyeshadow and lipstick are darker and give a bit of a shadowed look. The pencil eyeliner makes his eyes look softer than his partners’.

Both of whom are blushing. Normal squeezes his hand.

“You’re so beautiful, Hermie!”

“Like midnight.” Scary whispers.

Beautiful. Like midnight.

Beautiful. Beautiful.

It’s so… feminine. Hermie feels feminine.

He loves it.

Tears are welling up in his eyes, and he tries to look up, but a tear slips down his cheek. His partners swoop in at the same time.

“Oh no- what’s wrong Hermie?” Normal wraps his arms around him.

“Oh shit, what’s wrong? Do you not like it?” Scary squeezes his hand, running a thumb over his wrist.

She doesn’t even care that her hard work is at risk. She just cares about his feelings.

He’s overcome with adoration, at their reactions and at his reflection. It’s why his usual quick wit is completely out of commission, and he can only respond with a few words.

“I love it.”

He gets up and maneuvers around them, to bring them both into a hug. They’re both quick to return the hug, wrapping their arms around him. He can feel their hands link on his back. Normal leans into the crook of Hermie’s shoulder, and Scary’s drawing little circles on his shoulder blades. It’s reassuring, it’s grounding.

They had plans for tonight, but Hermie doesn’t want to let go.

For once in a life riddled with shit luck, Hermie feels like they’ve hit the jackpot.