#[Okay I'm wheezing at another unrelated one but]

[unwaveriinghearts-a]

How Adorable Are You?

“...no he’s not. That’s not even a number, that’s a keysmash!”

[bluemoonpunch]

I just discovered your website and fell in love with your readings! I love how you give your insights and your approach to the reading. One thing I want to ask is does the group energy reading represent the energy of the group at the time of the reading, or just the energy as the group exists? This is mostly towards the Stray Kids group reading. I'm curious, because as a fan watching them from afar, I think there has been a dynamic shift among them. (1/2)

(2/2)This is not me asking you to do another reading for them though, and I also believe it's not the time yet. They are still in the middle of a shift that is not yet ripened. They are going to join a survival show with big exposure this year too, so they might drastically change as a group after that. On a totally unrelated note though, I let out the ugliest wheeze as you refer to page of wands as the Signature Jungkook' Card.

📕 Referencing:

Stray Kids Group Energy Analysis Part 1 (2018)

Stray Kids Group Energy Analysis Part 2 (2021)

A: Yes, any reading I do should be looked at as more of a "snapshot" of the state of things there at the moment of doing the reading, which is why I always provide the date that the reading was performed as well as when the reading was posted as I can sometimes do bigger readings a week or so in advance. I've done two different group energy readings for Stray Kids and there is a noticeable change between them, but, for example, before the first group reading for them I posted, I had done the reading a couple of times before that and got a lot of negativity which didn't really change that much between those first couple of readings.

It's good to keep in mind that with group energy readings, I look at what the individuals project into the group, which is sometimes a lot different from the general energetic projection of the individuals separate from the group. I then look at how those projections mix together, how they interact with each other, which can vary between conscious level interaction and energetic interaction. Then, after all that, I look at the overall projection, the general ~vibe~ of the group as a whole, how they function as a unit, what they are able to produce physically or energetically through the group projection. It can be quite complex and fluid, but there are many factors to take into consideration, so just because some things seem different doesn't always mean that things have changed in terms of their energetic balance and connection.

Of course, major changes in career or how things are done superficially in relation to their work and routine, as well as any dynamic changes with members leaving or even changes in contracts, can alter the energetic projection of the individuals and change up the overall balance of the group. So, for sure, in the future, I'll probably look into them again if there's a demand for it, but yeah, they do need some time to settle into new things before anything would come up as being different.

XXXX

Q: thank you for the reading!! I'm glad that there has been progress for them personally, that was good to see. I've been getting that vibe from them and it seemed like taehyung's core was no longer split so I'm glad that it actually isn't. I hope that even with the not-so-good energy that they'll be okay. the end of the reading had me feeling kind of 😔 it would make sense if it has something to do with any kind of enlistment. im hoping it's not disbandment. im aware it could happen but it'll still hurt lol i just want them to be happy either way =( but thanks again -Anonymous @ BMP Tumblr

📕 Referencing:

BTS OT7 2021/2022 Outlook Reading

A: Yeah, the reading was a bit of a bummer toward the end, but overall things were relatively balanced for them as individuals on a more personal level. However, I do think we're seeing a lot of that general tension now with how a lot of fans are responding to the new music, specifically their last three releases. I'm sure that's stirring up some debate and conversation behind the scenes both with the group and the company overall. So, it seems like one of those things where work-life can be a bit stressful going forward, but personal work and personal life for them can be relatively smooth and enjoyable, which can be more rewarding in the long run.

XXXX

Q: oh wow, I did not expect ur 2022 outlook to hit me that hard lol, I was hoping for something more positive for BTS but on the other hand they have been doing all this for over a decade so it's natural for it to finally come to close. still feeling emotional tho hahah -Anonymous @ BMP Tumblr

A: Same, honestly. 😥 But yeah, it tends to be a natural progression for a lot of artists that get that big, almost as if their careers grow past them and they just ride the wave the rest of the way. Still, a fascinating thing to watch play out over the years, definitely something to appreciate and be proud of.

XXXX

Q: love love love your dream and georgenotfound reading! I agree dream's reading is especially interesting, and an individual analysis on either of them would be amazing!! -Anonymous @ BMP Tumblr

Q: This might sound crazy but I read your tarot reading on DNF and remembered you mentioning Cecil? I'm watching their geoguessr stream happening live rn and just saw them go past a sign that said Cecil. I thought that was a funny coincidence -Anonymous @ BMP Tumblr

Q: Hi! All of your readings are so well written and I loved your reading you did on Dream and George and I was wondering if you could do a reading on Dream. You mentioned maybe doing one. -@glimmercherr

📕 Referencing:

How do GeorgeNotFound and Dream connect?

A: Yes, most likely I'll be doing an Elemental Alignment reading for Dream at some point and maybe I'll include some stuff about his birth chart as he has some underlying cosmic imprinting that I think is really interesting. And yeah, coincidences like that are my favorite, just the little things that pop up that seem to tie things together in a funny way, lol. I'm sure there's always some underlying meaning to it somehow.

XXXX

Can you do a mini reading on jimin and jungkook? Whether it’s more equal now? Idk maybe because I am a Pisces I have been able to read other people’s vibes (I call them ) better I am no expert but I feel jimin thinks of jungkook as like an individual grown-up but still would always see himself as a protector kinda like powder siblings too? Also because this doesn’t show up consciously Like they always seem like equal and above sand all in behind the scenes too? Can you explain or clarify if I am right? -Anonymous @ BMP Tumblr

A: Yes, things are definitely more equal now. There's a very interesting progression for them that plays out energetically and even as deeply as on a soul level, lining up with their personal development and separation from the Soul Body. Of course, with Jimin being older and having had known Kook for so long, I have no doubt that no matter what, some part of him would always feel protective of Kook, the only difference is that Kook is in a headspace now where he can be protective back, be more of an equal support for Jimin right back. And, I agree, behind the scenes when they're not performing and not "in character," they can definitely display more of that equalizing push and pull, more so reflecting their energetic connection on a conscious and physical level, which tends to show a very strong soul bond that is being supported on both sides.

If you haven't already, I recommend reading these readings in order as they can really display that development between them over the past few years:

Relationship Reading for Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook P1 (2018)

Relationship Reading for Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook P2 (2020)

The Internal Alignment of Park Jimin (2020)

How do Jimin and Kook connect? (2021)

[make-sterek-canon]

That night I saved you || PolArm oneshot (KinnPorsche The Series)

Getting hurt being somebody's bodyguard is part of the job. It's inevitable.

Getting killed is another thing entirely. In Pol's eyes, it's unacceptable. Even more if the one at risk is Arm.

·

·

“That night I saved you”

[Pol’s POV] (Italics = emphasis/others; italics and bold = thoughts)

·

·

Extremely warm night. Sticky climate. His suit is completely ruined from all the sweat and dirtiness. There's also some blood mixed in there. Snot too, probably. Pol can't tell.

He's holding Arm down with one hand and the gun with the other. Arm is unconscious and not even responding to any external stimulus. All Pol can feel is his heart beating in his chest. Too slow to be noticed but it's something, some hope in the dark situation they're in.

Pol needs to get Arm out of there and fast or he'll lose him, and he's definitely not ready to say goodbye just yet. Maybe not ever.

He pushes the button on his earpiece but dead silence welcomes him from the other side. He takes off the damn thing rather violently.  Time to put into action his last resort then.

"Pete! Pete!" His shouts fill the air. The bullets are still flying around and there's too much noise. He waits a few seconds, then tries again. Calling Pete desperately. Unrelenting sweat is falling down his face and neck, wetting even more his white (not anymore) shirt.

"Here!" He hears, and he sighs in relief.

"Listen! Can you handle it? I need to get Arm some help, he's in bad shape!"

"Go, I'll cover you!

That's all he needs to get going. Ducked behind a pile of sturdy-looking boxes, Pol tries to pinpoint Pete's position so he'll know where to move. Judging by his shouts he might be somewhere to the right and if Pol remembers correctly there's an exit that way. He needs to move to reach it though and it's easier said than done since he still has to protect both himself and Arm from getting hit by stray bullets. The only way is staying crouched while dragging Arm's motionless body.

Unresponsive as his fellow is, Pol is taking longer to do just that. He also needs to call someone to come and get them because they took Pete's car this time and of course he's the one that has the keys.

Pol curses under his breath. He'll definitely make a copy for next time. If there was a next time. There is still the possibility that none of them will survive the night after all.

After countless and torturous minutes he finds himself closer to the right side exit. This abandoned warehouse is big but not enough to get yourself lost.

Fortunately, no one has seen them and Pol hopes it stays that way for a bit longer.

"Hang in there, Arm. We're almost out."

He hasn't moved yet and Pol is starting to think that he's been dragging a corpse all along, but the sole thought is quickly getting to him and there's no time to lose.

The air is even more stickier and dense outside than inside the building, and Pol is heavily wheezing from the effort. Resting Arm's back against the facade, he places a hand on his chest to support him while taking the phone out with his free hand. Scratch that. He decides against it when not even two seconds have passed. They were not going to make it if they had to wait for someone from the major clan to come.

"Think, Pol. Think..."

Raising his eyes he suddenly notices an old gray Sedan some meters away, parked on the side of the smaller building, part of the main one but detached.

"This better work."

Hauling Arm as carefully as his own banged up body allows him, he walks to the vehicle. It should be easy to open since its windows are not armored as Pete's and the rest of their cars. Or if it's a getaway car as Pol suspects he could probably find the keys nearby, placed there for the owner to grant a fast escape. 

First things first, he rests Arm against the car and checks to make sure it isn't open before looking for the keys. Crouching close to the driver's side tire Pol sticks his hand in the space between the car's fender and the tire, finding the keys on top of it. Bingo. After grabbing them he gets up and when a shot rings out, his hand opens on instinct dropping them to the ground. The bullet impacts against the gravel right next to where Arm is and Pol's breath stops working for a second, scared that he might have been hit.

"Where do you think you're going, scum? Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly."

Pol does as he's told, facing the man. He's pretty much average looking, not as big in size as Pol and he's definitely tired if his labored breathing is any indication. He has to take him down. And fast.

The quietness doesn't last long when the man steps forward with his gun still raised. The distance is shorter and Pol takes that chance to surprise his enemy, crouching down and getting some gravel to throw it to his face. That gets him a shout in response and he promptly throws himself against the man next to take the gun away. It flies off somewhere. But that's not the end of it. The man only needs a moment to collect himself and he attacks Pol. Avoiding blow after blow, he counterattacks when he has the opportunity, but he's not fast enough to block a sudden kick to the ribs. Falling to his knees in agonizing pain, Pol raises his head to look at the man, who's got a karambit and is brandishing it right in front of his face.

"Very nice... Just stay there like the dog you are. Fucking useless." He snickers and Pol flinches in disgust. "Your fuck-buddy must be dead, huh? Don't worry, you'll be following him soon enough..."

Pol glances Arm's way and his eyes tear up but he bites down hard on his lower lip to prevent the tears from falling. It's highly efficient since the pain distracts him from feeling anything else. He's not going to give the bastard the satisfaction to seeing him cry. Not for his own life, but for his fallen friend. The defiant look Pol sends the man's way makes him smile sadistically.

"Ah, that look... I'm so gonna enjoy butchering you like I would do a pig..."

A sudden movement causes Pol to look behind the man, a bit to his left. The man notices but it's not enough for him to turn around or even move. There's no time since he already has a bullet embedded in his skull. The dead body falls forward right into Pol but he moves before it touches him. 

Still kneeling, he looks up at the shooter. Vegas.

"Empty promises... I hate people who are all bark and no bite the most." He says, with a gravely tone full of disdain. 

And suddenly it's like a staring contest. But this time there's neither winner nor loser.

"Where's Pete?"

Pol is not sure if he should answer though he somehow knows that Vegas means no harm to his friend.

"Still inside."

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll finish you off. Less Kinn's bodyguards means less threats to my clan."

"Why won't you then?"

"What?"

"Finish us off."

"Let's just say that a certain someone wouldn't like that. Be grateful."

Guess who.

With nothing more to say, apparently, Vegas turns around and walks to the main building, gun in hand and ready. You can still hear some commotion happening inside. Pol watches him go for a second before getting up to get the keys from the gravel to open the car. He checks on Arm then, looking for his pulse in the neck. It's there. Weak, but there. Pol heaves a sigh of relief. 

Getting him inside the car is not as easy at it looks but he manages to lay him down on the back seats. Pol is still not sure how is he that unconscious but he suspects he was brutally hit with something, and he worries that Arm might have a concussion since he's bleeding quite profusely from the head.

·

·

·

The road is completely empty on their way back and Pol speeds through it with too little care for anything else than getting Arm the help he needs.

Pol is so focused that he swerves and almost goes off the road when his phone rings unexpectedly, strident in the silent car. 

His heart still in his throat, he answers after a few more tones ring.

"Pol, it's Pete."

"Hey... How are things there?" He asks the best he can, trying to steady his racing heart so it could return to normal.

"Calmer. I- I think we did it. The cargo is ours" Pete's voice is wavering a little, and Pol is not going to ask how they got it since he already knows. They had outside help and if Boss Korn found out he'd be anything but happy. But he won't say a thing. He's never been a whistleblower and he won't start now.

"Casualties?"

"Not many. We came prepared after all."

"Yeah..." Pol distractedly says, looking at Arm through the rearview mirror.

"What about Arm? Where are you taking him?"

"Where do you think?"

"Dr. Top? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Pol grips the steering wheel so hard that both his hands start hurting, and he asks with his teeth clenched. "I don't have many options at the moment, or do I?"

He doesn't trust the man either but it's also true that there's nobody else they can go to. Dr. Top is as mysterious as he is a good doctor, and he'll treat Arm fairly. 

"Ok, ok. Do what you have to do."

Running a trembling hand through his thick and slightly sweaty hair, Pol exhales slowly. "Pete, Arm... he... I'm not sure if he's alive. He hasn't moved or anything since before we left. He had a pulse when I got him into the car, but it was weak. He... he may be dead for all I know and fuck, I'm not okay with that..."

"Pol, you need to calm down," Pete says softly. "It's going to be okay, you hear me? He's gonna be alright. He's one of the toughtest men I know. So stop thinking. It's definitely not helping."

"It's just-"

"No, and whatever you might want to say? Just keep it for when he comes around. Okay? Call me when you get there."

"Yeah."

"Pol."

"Yeah, alright. I'll call you."

"And... ?"

"Stop thinking. I got it the first time, Pete."

"Just in case you forgot."

"Right... See you."

"See ya."

Then Pol hears a "Vegas, what the f-" and suddenly the line is cut off. 

He doesn't move or says anything for a while, but the silence becomes too much and he feels the need to fill it.

"Vegas came to help... Can you imagine? That sadistic bastard helping us... Well, more like helping Pete." Pol mumbles, looking in the rearview mirror from time to time. "He saved my life. I'm not sure if I should be grateful or scared. I owe him, big-time." He doesn't know what comes into him but in a flash, Pol hits the steering wheel quite violently. "Fuck, Arm. Talk. Open your damn eyes. Can you at least hear me?" Regret washes over him the second he explodes. "I can't believe I'm doing this... I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I should have been there for you sooner. If you die...” Don't you dare die on me.

·

·

·

The Anakinn residence comes into sight, imposing and in complete darkness except for the lights on the front facade. 

Next to it, Dr. Top's house lies. It kinda looks like a cabin and it has all the comodities and necessities but if he lives there is basically because it is in his contract. Other than that, he comes and goes at will. No questions asked.

Getting out of the car Pol opens the back door to take Arm out. He doesn't even care about leaving the car open since it's not his and carries Arm bridal style towards the house. The entrance light turns on before he reaches the wooden door and it opens, showing the doctor in silky maroon pajamas. He's the definition of tall, dark and handsome. That's probably why Boss Tankhun and Vegas' brother Macao are head over heels for the man.

"Sleeping, Doc?"

The man smirks for a microsecond and urges Pol to get inside. "Leave him on the dining room table." He quickly follows the orders. It was like someone had told the doctor that they were coming because the table was clearly prepared for an emergency. Leaving him there, Pol steps back. That's when he takes a moment to evaluate Arm's state by himself. He's too damn pale. But other than that he looks like he's sleeping.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?" The doctor asks while checking Arm for vitals and shining a light into his eyes.

"I don't really know. I wasn't even close when it happened." Pol explains. "But I guess he was hit with some kind of weapon or thrown against something..." He stops talking, swallowing hard when he notices that his voice is breaking.

"It must be a concussion... Has he been unconscious the whole time?" 

So I was right. Pol nods, not trusting his voice just yet. 

"I'm gonna need you to be vocal, Pol. Get yourself together and talk."

"Y- yeah, he's been like that since I found him lying on the ground."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Pol clenches his fists. Son of a...

"Okay, you can wait outside. Drink some water. Eat something. Do whatever you want, but get out of my sight."

"What? No-"

"Yes, Pol. You're making me uncomfortable, and you don't want Arm to suffer the consequences, right?"

Frowning and still with his fists clenched, he barks a resounding negative, storming out of the dining room after glancing at Arm for a brief second.

If he lets himself get carried away and closes the door with more force than necessary nobody can really blame him.

·

·

·

Pol doesn't know how much time he spends sitting on that awfully orange colored sofa, but he's been dozing off for a while, his eyes opening and closing non-stop. 

But he knows he obviously lost the battle when he's startled awake by a hand shaking him. His own grabs that hand determined to get it off him in the worst way possible but he's promptly stopped by a familiar voice calling his name. "Pol, it's me."

Pete's delicate face welcomes him when he opens his eyes. "Pete. You're here." Surprise follows and he sits upright. "Why are you here? I thought you were with V-"

"He dropped me off and went back to work. He's got some unfinished business to attend..."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Pol snorts, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat. He feels it scratchy, like something got stuck there.

"Have you drank or ate anything? I don't want to be that person but you look bad..." And it must be true when his friend is looking at him in such a worrisome way. He doesn't even get upset for not having called him.

"I just can't... I feel like throwing up every time I think about it. Arm..." The reality hits Pol in that exact moment he remembers why he's in the state he is in. "Fuck. Arm. Pete, how is he? Do you know? Has the doctor talked to you? Is Arm... ?"

"Stop. Man, you're freaking out and that's not going to help either of you," Pete tries to calm Pol, taking his hands between his. "He's alive. He's fine. But he's not waking up. Dr. Top said that it'll probably take some more time for him to come to his senses. He also said that he's suffering from a severe concussion and that he's lucky he has no brain damage. So it's just a matter of time until he..."

"I want to see him." Pol declares, getting up in such a rush that it desestabilizes him for a second.

"You're going to hurt yourself even more. So stubborn..." Pete mutters, frowning while holding him by the elbows. "Has Dr. Top checked you up? Ah, don't bother answering. I already know what you're gonna say. Sit, for fuck’s sake."

"I need to see him," Pol almost begs. He just wants to see with his own eyes that Arm is alive. Is that so hard to understand?

"No, it's not." It's almost as if his friend had read his thoughts but he just said it aloud. "You know, it should have come as a surprise... but it just makes perfect sense. You are always together, and don't let me get started with those meaningful stares and little touches... Say, when you do you think it all started?"

"What do you mean?" He's still not ready to admit it out loud. Not if he can help it. So he chooses to play dumb instead.

Too bad Pete doesn't think the same.

"When did you fall in love?"

"You're being more nosy than usual..."

"I'm just curious."

"Should I ask you the same then? About you and that... man?" Pol answers back, quite forcefully.

Pete stills for a moment, with his eyes being the only thing giving him away. "I guess I deserved that one."

Feeling bad, Pol quickly backpedals. "No, I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it. It's not the moment nor the place."

"You're right," Pete shrugs sending him a tiny smile. "But don't think this is over."

"Oh, trust me. If I know you, and I think I do quite well, I just know you're not dropping it out anytime soon."

"Just delaying it. Because you look awful and I pity you."

Pol can barely contain a laugh. Pete is that good. He's a ray of sunshine among the darkness that lives within them. Even when he's had it really bad himself. Being a ball of happiness is his greatest charm.

"Okay, jerk, now make yourself useful and take me to him." 

“Methinks you should ask nicely,�� Pete pouts, obviously faking being upset.

“Well, me thinks you're being ridiculous.”

“Ah, you're no fun...” Sighing, Pete puts an arm around Pol's waist, and he instinctively puts his right arm around Pete's shoulder as support. "Alright then, I'll take you to your lover boy. He's rocking the Sleeping Beauty look, let me tell you."

"I'm telling him once he wakes up."

"Oh yeah? Then I'll tell Boss Tankhun to punish you later.

Pol snorts. "As if I hadn't had enough beatings for two lifetimes..." 

"At least you weren't almost killed like a million times. Those guys were ruthless. The bullets kept coming and I thought I was a goner."

"You don't know the half of it," he mutters shaking his head, remembering how Vegas had saved his ass. Probably the same way he had saved Pete's if you think about it.

·

·

·

It seems like while Pol was asleep Dr. Top had moved Arm from the dining room to the guest room that was next to the kitchen and the toilet. Not by himself, of course, but with Pete's help. 

The bedroom is neither big nor small, and it looks cozy with that warm wall decor paper beige colored with golden motifs. There are some paintings and portraits here and there, and a wardrobe in the bottom right corner, not too far from the full sized bed. 

Arm lies there, still a bit too pale but he doesn't look like he's dying anymore. Pete was right in his Disney comparison and Pol cracks a smile.

"Whistle if you need me. I'll be in the living room." Pete interrupts his train of thought and he just nods, following his friend with his gaze as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. 

Turning around, Pol walks to the bed and sits on the right edge, facing Arm. His hand moves before he can think about it and he places it over Arm's heart. His heartbeat is steady and Pol closes his eyes to calm himself. They're both safe and together. Together... As if the touch was burning him he removes his hand from Arm's chest.

"I'm going crazy... There's no other explanation." Pol sighs, running a hand through his hair as a nervous gesture. "You really need to wake up, Arm. That doctor freaks me out and I don't like the thought of you spending the night here. I want us to go home."

It's right then when Pol notices that Arm's hand is palm up on the sheets in a clear invitation. After clenching and unclenching his fist a few times, he closes the distance and grabs Arm's hand with his own, lacing their fingers. He's almost tempted to kiss the back of his hand, but what he does is leaning towards Arm to whisper in his ear in a soft tone: "Are you going to leave me hanging? I didn't peg you as a cruel man..."

At first Pol thinks it's his brain playing tricks on him or maybe a muscle reflex but when it happens again it makes him lose his breath. Something is squeezing his hand. Leaning back a little, he looks into Arm's chocolate eyes, unblinking. Awake at last.

"We're even then, because neither I pegged you as a romantic man..." His voice sounds extremely hoarse but it's like music to Pol's ears.

Wetting his lips, he smiles from ear to ear. "Ass."

This time, neither of them smile in solitude.

~~o~~

~~o~~

~~o~~

Hi!

Writing this second oneshot was a challenge. It almost killed me, haha. But it was fun and I loved writing it. So worth it!

I hope you guys like it ^^

Here’s the first ArmPol oneshot I wrote. This one is a continuation. Kind of~

I’ll probably write a third one (last?) and maybe a Vegas/Pete spin-off!

Now go  give the teaser for the series some love.

Thank you! <3

~Aeriel

[dhwty-writes]

Oh, I just read your vacation is a mess, I'm so sorry!! How about 6 (maybe with Jaskier?), I'm always down for 11, 27 is... oh yeah, 34 is pure chaos and I love it, 39 makes me!!!, 43 with sickness?

Whew, that’s quite a lot of prompts, thank you so much for them! Luckily, I hade quite a lot of time, too, so I’ll be queueing them up.

For the sick fic, feel free to check out Surprise the Child Surprise, there’s a sick!Jaskier in that one and I’m not sure if I’m up to writing another one without shamelessly copying that.

For now, here’s 6 - Jolting awake after a nightmare and being comforted.

Read on AO3

The man laid on his back, writhing in pain as an immortal warrior stood above him, her hands outstretched to deal the killing blow. "No," he begged, "no, please don't, please, mercy-"

Thick fog engulfed him, choking the air from his lungs, making him cough and wheeze, forgotten on a table with the faint scent of apple juice.

"Mercy?" a cruel man's voice mocked. "Who are you to deserve mercy? You're no son of mine."

"No," he pleaded again, "no, father, please. Please don't do this, you don't have to, you-"

"You are not worthy of my name, boy," he hissed. "You don't even remember it."

A boot hit him in his broken ribs but he barely registered it, the sharp ache of panic taking over. His name? What was his name? He had a name, he knew for sure, a proud name, and ancient, but he couldn't quite recall it. The air was growing thin. There was another name, too, a different name, a name he chose himself, free of all the duties and nightmares, a name to bring warmth and light and lo-

"Jaskier!"

Jaskier woke with a start, looking around frantically. "Wha-what?" he stammered, quickly taking stock of his surroundings. He was drenched in sweat, so much that for a moment he feared he wet his pants, and wouldn't that be embarrassing? "What's happening?" he tried again.

"You were shouting," a deep voice beside him said and before he could stop himself, he flinched. "I, uh- I tried to wake you up."

'Geralt,' he realised with relief and relaxed. Geralt, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from his body. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark — it had to be the dead of night, still — and he saw that the witcher had one hand outstretched and was still talking and-

"I'm sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought-" He moved to pull away, over to his own bedroll on the other side of the fire and panic welled up inside Jaskier again.

"Wait!" His hand shot out, grasping his wrist firmly. "Wait," he said weakly.

"You're scared," the witcher assessed.

"Yes."

Geralt winced.

It took Jaskier an embarrassingly long time to catch up with what was happening. "Not of you, you big oaf," he said softly. "I had a nightmare."

"Oh," the witcher said slowly. He seemed to hesitate before continuing: "Is there something I could do?"

A blush crept up his cheeks faster than he cared to admit. He quickly shook his head.

"You're embarrassed," Geralt noted.

"That's correct, too."

"So, there is something."

He chewed on his lip unsure. He imagined the blush on his cheeks grew brighter still, impossibly visible for Geralt to see. 'Melitele have mercy,' he thought.

"Jaskier," Geralt said imploringly. "I can still smell your fear. I can still see your embarrassment." He scooted closer and when Jaskier made no move to pull away he came closer still. "I've seen you drunk out of your mind, held you upright while you puked. I saw you stumble off a stage more times than I can count and caught you in someone's bed more times than you can count." He paused. "There's nothing you could ask for that you need to be embarrassed of."

"Nothing, huh?" Jaskier tried to tease, yet the suggestive smile that normally accompanied such a question didn’t quite rise to his lips.

"Nothing," Geralt confirmed seriously.

To his never-ending astonishment he managed to blush even more. 'No mercy for me then,' he decided. "You could, ah- You could hold me? Maybe?"

"Hmm," he said and for one terrifying moment Jaskier feared that the witcher would decline, regardless of the promise he'd made. Then: "Move over," he grumbled, "won't be sleeping on wet leaves because of this."

"O-okay." Relief rushed over him, the gruff tone much more like their usual conversations. 'When did this start to feel comforting?' he asked himself and quickly decided that it didn't really matter.

What mattered was that he moved over just like Geralt had asked him to and that he was pulled tightly against the witcher's chest, arms like iron bars, but not trapping him, never trapping him, instead keeping out whatever might cause harm. He realised very belatedly — after a few moments of struggling to fit into the bedroll together — that Geralt intended to sleep like that.

'Now, that's unusual,' he thought. 'Not that I'd complain, though.' It had been far too long since he fell asleep in a lover's embrace. 'Huh.' And wasn't that a strange thought?

'That's a dangerous thought,' he decreed. ''Cause we're not lovers. Never have been, never will be.' Not that he hadn't thought about it, that wasn't the issue at all. It was more that he had thought about it too much, and that Geralt had never made any indication, and that this, the witcher curled up around him was too close to forbidden fantasies, hidden from view for anyone but-

"Bard," Geralt grumbled, "you're thinking very loudly."

"Huh?" Jaskier made, ice cold fear gripping his heart. "What do you mean, thinking loudly? I'm not thinking loudly, I'm thinking very quietly, in fact, in the privacy of my own mind, so it would be appreciated if you kept your nose out of tha-"

"Jaskier," he sighed and buried his nose in his hair. Jaskier's heart skipped a beat. "Relax. You’re not relaxing. So. What're you thinking about?"

"I, uh- nightmare," he blurted before he could say anything more incriminating.

"Hmm." Geralt began tracing soothing patterns on Jaskier's arm. "Do you, uh- want to talk about it?" For a moment he wondered if this made the witcher feel just as fuzzy in the head as it made him.

"No, I don't think so." He sighed at the sensation of gentle, oh-so-gently fingers in his hair. After a moment of hesitation his resolve shattered and he leaned closer into the touch. "Pity your silver sword can't slay those monsters."

"Hmm." He thought he could feel lips ghosting over his hair. No, that had to be a mistake, surely. "Maybe your silver tongue can."

Jaskier's eyes shot open and he would've sat up if not for the unrelenting arms holding him down. Instead, he opened and closed his mouth uselessly. "Geralt, you- what-"

No, Geralt's lips were definitely pressed against his hair, he could feel the smirk, the bastard. "Speechless, bard?"

"Never!" he replied hastily, desperately trying to think of an answer to prove his point. He wasn't very successful. "You just caught me off guard," he tried.

"Hmm." He was very smug, the asshat. "Will try to warn you next time."

"Oh no. No, no, no," he babbled. He could do that very well. Babbling. At least that way he could try to save his face. "I won't be caught off guard ever again, thank you very much. Not now that I know that you are capable of such poetic lines."

"Hmm. We'll see about that," Geralt didn't sound any more convinced than Jaskier felt. The witcher tugged him closer against his chest. "Try to sleep now, Jaskier. There's still a few hours before dawn."

He knew that the witcher was right. Come sunrise they would set out again, in search of another contract, another adventure with monsters for Geralt to kill, and ballads for Jaskier to write. So, he tried to relax in his friend's arms, to the rhythm of deep breaths rustling his hair and soft circles drawn on his skin. It wasn't very hard.

He was almost asleep when Geralt moved one last time. This time there was no mistaking the soft kiss pressed to his cheek, nor the softer words that followed: "You're safe with me. Now, always, forever."

[shadowofthelamp]

I wonder what pilot dib would think if he found out she was his, how he finds out I'm not sure, manages to snoop through some personal objects, if she has a skool id? something that reads Twix Membrane and he has questions

Dib didn’t like the new kid. He didn’t like new kids on principle now- the last three before this one had been a vampire, a girl who tried to give him a wedgie within two minutes of meeting him, and then Zim. She was quiet, and had said she was only going to be here for a few days. Strike one- what parent signed their kid up for school for just a few days? His own Dad had tried to transfer him a few times because of ‘negative influences’ and ‘his personal space issues’ but apparently it was a pain in the butt to do.

He watched her using his pocket mirror, four desks behind him. She sunk into her seat, always looking around with goggles thick enough that Dib couldn’t see her eyes behind them. Strike two. That was just weird. Her skin was off-colored, like someone had reanimated her wrong. Her hair was bushy and so thick he couldn’t see them, but he wouldn’t be surprised if something was wrong with her ears too. Strikes three and four. Extra mega out. 

Zim was still nursing his wounds from an explosive badger that had nearly blinded him yesterday, so Dib felt safe focusing his efforts on the girl. She was almost always fiddling with some small device when Bitters wasn’t looking- a clue to her origins, no doubt.

When the bell rang, she was pulled into the mass of children heading for the cafeteria, but she managed to peel herself off and head down the hall. Dib followed, ducking behind other, taller kids and lockers whenever she turned back.

She was paranoid. Strike- okay, strike five didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but the point still stood! She had something to hide, if she was so worried. Nobody without something to hide would care about being followed right? Yeah, exactly. Something was freaky with her.

She slipped into the girl’s bathroom, and Dib grimaced only for a moment before sliding in after her. Luckily, they were the only ones there, and she clicked a stall shut. Dib climbed on top of the seat in the handicapped stall next to her, whipping out his recorder.

“Okay, day… three? Four? Ugh, I’m too tired to keep track anymore because I’m still sleeping in the Voot and it was freezing last night and the heater is broken. At least I still have the coat. I know I need to fix that, but I can get food at skool so I need to come just enough to not be suspicious. I’d skip last period but the Bitters here is the only one that’s pretty much the same as back home.” She laughed bitterly, and Dib leaned against the silver bar above the toilet paper. “Good thing the IDs here look the same or I’d need to have more of those rations, and I don’t think my stomach is ready for that whole debacle again.”

Back home? He climbed up on top of the bar, boots teetering as he tried to keep balance. He ended up with one foot on the bar and one on the toilet tank cover. 

“This is jump… five, I think? I need to find another version of Dad that’s sympathetic to me and knows how to fix it better, because if it keeps jumping randomly I’m going to lose it.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Ugh, and I can’t- Dad’s the safer one in most of these. Think positive. At least none of them have been underwater or anything, or had either of them explicitly trying to kill me. Well, that one had Dad, but that really wasn’t Dad, he was just the worst.” 

Dib leaned up on his tiptoes, the bar creaking under his weight. 

“Why am I even making these? I know, I know, “document everything because you never know what will be useful.” She hugged. “I don’t know how useful it is to repeat ‘this sucks’. There isn’t even any rhyme or reason, for all I know the version of me here is just some other kid. If she isn’t, she won’t be born for another… seven or eight years, at least. I think he’s eleven.”

Time travel? Oh, this was gold! Dib had only met a few “time travelers” and he had no idea how legitimate they’d been. At least one had just been a very confused ghost,. 

She sighed. “Anyways. Tonight I’ll give it another go. Maybe that hotwiring lesson won’t be a total loss, I’ll see if I can jumpstart the Voot with-”

Dib slipped as he leaned forward too hard, hitting the floor in a split with one foot dipping into the toilet water. She yelped, slamming the door to her stall open and tugging on his hard enough that the faulty lock gave. She stared down at him, eyes hidden behind the goggles, but her shocked open mouth was enough. 

Dib scrambled up, starting to advance on her. “A time traveler, huh? What are you looking for, your parents? “I think he’s eleven”? Trying to manipulate the timeline?”

“N-no!” She held her hands up, freezing as she was backed against one of the sinks.

“What else could you be up to? Are you from some future where frogs have taken over and interbred with humans? Are you hiding a transparent eyelid under those goggles?” He reached for them, and she slapped his hand away.

“No, of course not! Why are you even in the girl’s bathroom? I checked under the stall!”

“Looking for you.” He grinned, slamming his hands on either side of the sink to keep her pinned in. “I knew something was wrong about you. You said your ID was the same, let’s see if I recognize the last name, if your parents go to this skool.”

“Get off me!” She slammed her knee up, digging it deep enough into his stomach that he collapsed to his knees with a wheeze. She bolted, but in her haste, she dropped something.

Dib picked the card up- huh, it did mostly look like the ID he himself had stuffed in his pants pocket. He flipped it over.

The date lent credence to the time travel theory- it was for nineteen years from now.

The first name had been scribbled out with sharpie. The rest of it, however, made his stomach turn for reasons entirely unrelated to the fact that it had just been pummeled.

TWIX MEMBRANE.