#–the-smartass-under-the-mountain

[fandomsandfairytales]

Reblogging this post because I saw it a while ago and went "cool post" and then moved on with my life.

Then I saw this email subject line in my inbox and IMMEDIATELY. and I mean IMMEDIATELY. thought of this post:

Like, my first thought was something along the lines of "Turgon would be happy about that."

So of course I had to open the email to zoom in properly to take the screenshot, and I noticed the rest of the email.

ROLLING FILE CABINETS. Heck yeah, Turgon would love those. Might help to save on building wagons, but I think there would be plenty of things for those wheels to get caught on if you're rolling them across Beleriand. Just saying. I'm with Caranthir on this one, the expanding file folders are way more portable and efficient.

Turgon invented the filing cabinet.

how does it feel to be the most correct person on the internet today

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 2

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: After the first week at the Night Court the Archeron Twins are going back to the spring court. But Y/N comes back with a souvenir of her own a parting gift from the High Lord of the Night

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.1K

Chapter 1

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl

A/N: Honestly I am blown away by the love and support you all sent me for the first chapter. This is kind of a fluffy chapter. I have been sick so I apologize if this isn't as good!

It was the end of the week and Feyre was thrumming with excited energy. I knew she could not wait to go back to the Spring Court. After that night and meeting that handsome male-Cassian, I didn’t venture out around the manor at night nervous to run into him again. When I had a Nightmare, I just sat at the armchair in the room and watched my sister’s chest rise and fall until I found my eyes drooping. I always awoke with a blanket wrapped around me the next morning.

Feyre smiled, “Ready to go ho-“She paused, “Back today?”

I shrugged, “Ready as I’ll ever be, but right now I just would like some breakfast.” I paused and gave her a pointed look. “Do you think you can try to be nice to our host.”

Feyre straightened her nose sticking up in the air, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am as civil as always.” She looked beautiful in her Night court outfit. It was teal with sheer sleeves that show a bit of midriff with matching pants. I was in something similar in peach tone but mine was a skirt with slit that ran up to my thigh.  Feyre looped her arm into my own and when we opened the door, we found Rhysand on the other end ready to knock. “Oh hello, High Lord we were just coming down to have breakfast with you.” Feyre put on her fakest smile that enticed an unladylike snort to come out of me.

“Oh wonderful, if you don’t mind Feyre Darling,” I noticed she scowled at the nickname, but Rhysand continued, “I would like to speak to your sister in private for a moment.”

Feyre’s nostrils flared, “Absolutely I mind, you wil-”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed interrupting her, “Fey, it’s fine. We’ll meet you in the dining room.” Feyre looked at me and I gave her an affirming nod and squeezed her arm.

Feyre released my arm and bumped Rhysand’s shoulder with force and the High Lord smiled in response, “Are you some kind of masochist, High Lord? Its almost like you enjoy getting hurt by my sister.” I raise a brow as I see him rub his hand behind his neck and…Blushing. “Oh my, you do like when she’s mean to you.”

Rhysand puts his hand down, “I do not, hush, you remind me of the General of my armies. He’s a smartass like you.”

I smirk, “I look forward to meeting him sometime.” Rhysand’s face shifts to something more serious, “Am I in trouble?”

The High Lord’s brow furrowed, “Not at all, should you be?”

I began rocking my weight back and forth from each foot out of nervousness, “I may have snuck into the library the day we got here.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh, “Hope you found some good reading material, but no. I just wanted to make sure you are doing since…” he didn’t need to finish his thought for me to know what he was talking about.

I give him a smile, “I’m fine, Rhysand-“

“Rhys. You can call me Rhys.” He interrupted.

Rhys is what Cassian had called him in the library. “Okay, Rhys, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think you need to worry about me.” I bit my lip. Its Feyre you should be worried about she won’t talk to me about what happened Under the Mountain.

“I can worry about multiple things at once,” Rhys countered I met his violet gaze and noticed that stars that winked out at the seriousness in his tone, clearly not realizing that I had said that out loud. He took a step closer and gripped my hand to lift my eyes, his eyes drifting over to the yellowed bruise from Tamlin’s grip a week ago. “Are you treated well in his court?”

I was taken aback by his question, “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Rhys.” I murmur lightly tugging my hand away and he lets me. “Tamlin has made is love for Feyre known. He is…good.” I gritted out the last word.

Rhys tucked his hand into his pocket. “You don’t have to say or tell me anything if you don’t want to. I know you are protective of your sister. I just want you to know that if you want to talk or need to let out some steam, you are free to do so, while you’re here.” He gave me a tight smile and was about to exit.

“We don’t like each other.” Rhysand paused at the door not turning to face me I kept going, not sure why I was sharing, “I think he didn’t like that Feyre and I are a package deal. I don’t know for certain why he is cold and…aggressive toward me. I can tell you that the wedding was the first time that he put his hands on me.”

Rhysand turned around and walked toward me and gripped my hand, “Make a bargain with me.”

“What for? I’m not dying anymore.” I felt Rhys give my hand a light squeeze, “I can take care of myself you know..”

Rhys smiled, “I know you can, Y/N, I am specifically asking for a bargain, because if we have a bargain, we will have a direct line of communication.”

I gave him a doubtful look, “Why would I need that?”

Rhys smile fell and his face turned serious which caused me to straighten my spine, “In case you need my help, I’ll know where to find you.”

My brow furrowed, “Why do you care? What do you benefit from ensuring I’m safe?”

Rhys sighed frustratingly, “Maybe I’m concerned with how your sister would feel, if something would happen to you. Maybe it’s because you were the first person to look me in my eyes and tell me you trusted me and looked at me as something other than Amarantha’s Whore. Or maybe I’m just trying to be your friend because correct me if I’m wrong, you could really use one.”

I looked at our entwined hands, and I met his eyes again, “A friend would be nice. What are the terms?”

“All I want is for you to ask for help if you need it. In return I will do whatever you wish within reason of course.”

I playfully sigh, “So turning Tamlin into a rat is not an option, got it.” He chuckled low and deep as you thought about what you want, thinking back to that night in the library and drifting to the warm honey eyes I met there. Rhys’ cough brought me back from my thoughts for a moment I thought he had brief smirk but, in a blink, it was gone, “I can’t read very well.” I blurted and that caused his eyes to widen, “Would you be willing to teach me how to read and write?”

Rhys blinked, and then smiled, “Of course. A bargain then.”

I shake his hand, “A bargain.” A light flashed and an intricate black tattoo of whirls and stars wrapped around my wrist. “These really are beautiful.”

Rhys took my hand and looped that arm around his, “Come now, we must not keep that ill tempered twin of yours waiting.”

You laughed as we left our room, “What do I say about this,” I raise my wrist, “when they inevitably, ask about it. When she asks about it?”

Rhys shrugged, “Whatever you see fit. If you want to paint me out as the villain who tricked, you into a bargain say so. I just wanted you to have a way to reach me.”

We reach the dining room Feyre quietly talking to Mor, Rhys’ cousin that we met in the middle of this week, “Careful, Rhys, keep this up and I am going to start thinking you’re a nice Fae male.” I kissed his cheek and made my way into the dining room.

Feyre stood, and gave me a warm smile, “Are you ready?” I gave her a nod and look back at Rhys who tucked a hand in his pocket and Feyre lifted her chin, “We would like to go home now.” I bristled at her calling it my home but let it slide.

Rhys nodded and held out both his hands and I extend the arm without the tattoo, in his hand Feyre taking the other, and Mor calls out, “See you next month, Ladies.”

I turn and give her a smile and wave and I can see Feyre’s eyes go wide at the tattoo. Darkness begins to swirl as I look back at the door to the hallway and my breath hitched seeing Hazel eyes and flashes of red before the darkness consumed us.

In a moment we were back in the warm heat of the Spring Court. “See you next month, ladies.” And with that he was gone, my gaze lingered on where he was.

I was whipped around by my sister as she lifted my left arm, “What did you do?”

I whipped my arm back and walked toward the manner cross my arms tucking my tattooed wrist hidden, “Rhys offered something I wanted, I made a bargain.”

“What could he possibly have that you could have wanted,” Feyre hissed trying to keep up with my pace. “Especially something that Tamlin can’t provide here.”

I glare at her, “Like how he has been so great at providing you the emotional support when you throw up every night. Right?” Feyre went silent, “That’s what I thought. Feyre as I said before, I love you, but I am my own person and can make my own decisions. Please stop treating me like I’m a child.” Lucien was standing in front of the manor, and I storm inside ignoring the red headed male and make a beeline for my room and slam my door and sitting in the armchair by my window. I felt a warm tingle on my wrist. I looked at my left arm and another wave of warmth tingled my wrist. “Thanks Rhys,” I smiled and leaned my head against the head rest and drifted off into sleep thinking of those warm eyes and beautiful smile.

Cassian POV

I spent every evening in the library this past week, in hopes I would see Y/N again. Rhys had told us that we wouldn’t see Feyre but when I had walked into that library and saw her soft eyes that gleamed in the dark fae lights and the ease it was to talk to her.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Mor questioned her brow quirked. Her face brightened, “Is there a lucky male or Female warming your bed Cas?”

I choked on the bite of my breakfast, “Mother above, Mor. Why would you think that?

“Because you have been staring at your eggs like they wrote you a beautiful love sonnet to you. I would have to assume that someone is warming your bed.” Mor’s threw him saccharine grin.

Before I could answer Rhys returned, his face tight, his eyes met mine, “Well that went as well as I anticipated.” Rhys muttered sitting at the table and the house provided him with breakfast. He began to eat, “I made a bargain with Y/N.”

My eyes snapped to my brothers, “You did?”

He nodded and took another of bite, I move my gaze to Mor, she shrugged and asked, “Why?”

Rhys mouth tightened, “Tamlin got a little aggressive, when I picked them up on Feyre’s wedding day. He had gripped her tight,”

I gripped my glass firmly and I thought about our brief encounter. There had been a bruise on her arm, I just didn’t know where it was from. “Did you ask her about it?”

“She chalked it up to those two just not getting along but I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.” Rhys smirked, “Though I will say she may have had hazel eyes on her mind this morning,” He met my gaze as heat crawled to my face. “Any particular reason why, Cassian?”

Mor’s gasped, I shot her a glare, “I may have met her in the library the day the two of them got here.” I took a sip of my tea, “I didn’t do anything nefarious, just talked with her,”

Rhys held up a hand to stop me, “I know, her thoughts were loud, and it just feels like she was comfortable here and comfortable with her interactions with both of you.” He gave a smile, “Thank you, both.”

I took another sip of my tea and murmured, “Can you imagine when those two meet, Azriel?”

Mor giggled, “Cauldron spare them.”

Rhys smiled, “Indeed.” Then the three of us finished our breakfast and my mind drifted to red silk, and doe eyes.

Chapter 3

[milkypompon]

Pink Interface

pairing: Nathan Bateman x F!Reader

summary: Nathan made you a period tracker... but it's nothing you'll find on the public market.

content: Fluff, talks of sex, period pains

wc: 1.1k

a/n: Nate... baby, your love language is being smart, an ass, and being a smartass.

Ex Machina Masterlist || Main Masterlist

–

A blanket of snow coats the ground, steadily thickening as it dusts the sky. Foxes usually come out to frolic, but today, there weren’t pawprints pressed against the white fluff.  They’re probably curling up in a hollow den. 

It’s hardly to be jealous about, given that you were pressing against shoulder to shoulder with Nathan as you trek up the mountain together — his warmth, a welcome pleasure, seeps into your body.

But this morning, out of all the goddamn days, you saw a familiar red stain. 

You wanted to postpone the hike, but he looked forward to it all week, and you didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. If anything, your hand-washed panty hanging on the towel rack would’ve been a giveaway, but you steered him away from the bathroom before he could see it. 

You claimed you nuked the toilet after drinking the annoyingly healthy green smoothie he made before the hike. 

Nathan frowned, “That’s an oddly graphic scene I didn’t need to imagine.”

At least it worked. 

Now, here you were, suffering from your own doings because you didn’t want to see a pouting Nathan. 

You clutch your midriff and come to a halt. “Nate, could we take a break?”

He frowns at your pained expression. Usually, you were the one dragging him up the mountains — pointing to the fox tracks or the last place you two sat down to drink hot chocolate. But now you’re a few paces behind him. There was definitely something wrong.

Snow crunches underneath his boots, making his way to you to hold you. His hand slips underneath your puffer jacket and thermal long-sleeve, you writhe under his touch. He’s confused at first before he begins to connect the dots. 

“Jesus Christ… are you pregnant?”

Your mouth gapes at the stupidity of his question. 

The pause was long enough for him to ask again, “Are you… pregnant?”

You huff and shove his shoulder. “What the fuck? The opposite, you dumbass! I’m bleeding out my uterine lining!”

“I know what a period is!”

“You had me there going for a sec because you spend more time with your vaginaless androids.”

He gives you a sideways smirk. “Hey, give me some credit. I started doing that when we got married!”

Then, Nathan sighs, a mix of relief and embarrassment washes over him. “Besides, can you blame me? We fucked in the rest-stop cabin after our hike last time.”

A ping catches both of your attention.

Your eyes land on his smartwatch. “I thought it was your scheduled wellness day today. Still got people messaging?”

He presses on the square screen and mumbles, “Oh, there was a bug in the code. Now it makes sense why I’m only finding out now.” 

“Huh?” 

Nathan gives you his signature smile — pearly whites that made women swoon and closed business deals… or when he was withholding information.

You were positive that it was the latter in this case. 

He wraps an arm around you and walks back to the facility. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

The last time you let him build up anticipation, he revealed an android clone. He claimed it was for you to use when he was out on business trips as long as he had access to the live feed. You weren’t shocked, to say the least, considering this was Nathan Bateman.

Equal parts genius and horny. 

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if he made one of you, too, so he could watch the androids fuck each other. 

–

You shed your jacket and settle into the crook of the couch, curling in on yourself to suppress the pain.

Nathan kneels in front of you, combing his fingers through your hair. “Baby, tell me what you need. Tea? A hot pad? Snacks?”

“You’re stalling.”

“Am not.”

“We’re not toddlers, Bateman. Give it to me straight.”

“Don’t get weird with me, ‘kay?” He sits on the couch and tugs you onto his lap. 

You roll your eyes, shifting your weight on him comfortably. “If you made an android of me so you can watch it have sex with Masturbateman, then color me utterly not surprised.”

He frowns and thumbs your hipbone. “I spent hours perfecting it, and that’s the name you gave my android?”

“That’s what you got out of that conversation?”

Nathan cups your asscheek and squeezes it. “If you keep getting snappy with me, I won’t show my new project.”

You huff but give in, nudging your face into the curve of his shoulder. 

He leans forward to grab his tablet from the coffee table, the screen displaying… a period tracker?

“What’s up with the pink interface? That’s such a gender stereotype.” You prod just to piss him off, but it does the opposite.

He grins as if he’s been waiting for you to ask that question. “The color is sampled from your urine mixed with endometrium when you’re nearing the end of your menstrual cycle. It’s aligned with hex code #FAA0A0–”

You steal his words from earlier today, “That’s an oddly graphic scene I didn’t need to imagine.”

“But look at this. It detects your four phases by inputting your BMI and medical history.” Nathan’s lips curl up. “You have a really regular cycle, y’know?”

You snort. “You’re the only man who would say that as a compliment, you fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just telling you the facts.” He pats your thigh. “Anyway, do you have a preferred date when you want your period?”

“Uh, what?”

“I can program the app to delay your period indefinitely. Want a three month break? It’ll happen. Want it to never return? Easy. So, what’ll it be, baby?”

“You’re doing overtime on the god roleplaying…”

He laughs, amused at your reaction. “Hey, I’m just answering your question. I can tell that it’s a big headache for you, so I figured I’d extend you an olive branch.”

“Wait, how did you link this up to my body in real time?”

“What do you think I’ve been sprinkling into the green smoothies?”

You pinch his cheek. “I’m not one of your androids, Nathan.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. “But, you’re right. My androids wouldn’t complain.”

You hide your teasing grin behind a hand. “It could be easily solved if you get me pregnant, but we both know how you feel about that.”

There’s a quietness as he places the tablet down. Neither of you discussed this unless it was in passing when you’d comment on how cute baby mittens are and wondered what their blended food tasted like. 

He was well aware that raising a child wasn’t like building his projects. Raising a human was more difficult than creating artificial intelligence that could pass as a human. 

Nathan blurts, “I want you to have my babies.”

–

Nathan's hips thrust into yours, he leans into your ear and whispers, "The tracker tells me when you're ovulating too."

You say in between moans, "Mmm, I'm gonna shove you off, if you don't shut the fuck up."

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Okay since we were talking about our beloved Lorcan earlier 😂

What about Lorcan falling in love with one of the newer fae in Aelin's court? Like a fae who took over for one of the Lord's after the war?

*smiles in evil fox* I had way too much fun...

Smartass

Lorcan always knew that he liked his females strong-minded. He liked the bickering. He liked the teasing it brought. A game of some sort. Chasing and catching. Charming. He wasn't picky about the looks. It's the brain that he valued. Had spent way too many nights in taverns, with ladies who only knew how to bounce their breasts but the words that came out of their mouths made him want to rip his hair out. He was sure his life was going to be doomed by careless messing around. One night adventures and fleeting the moment he was done.

But you just had to walk into his life. And turn his ancient world upside down. He was accompanying Aelin in one of her meetings regarding the reserved army she wanted to recruit. She said that she needed Lorcan as her formal army commander to run over the details with a commander of allay troops just in case.

Well, one thing Lorcan wasn't expecting was a female. Tight armor like a corset, pants that accompanied the high slits of your dress shirt. Lorcan had forgotten his name for a moment as he watched you walking towards them. "See something you like?", you smirked at the male, making Lorcan swallow thickly, your voice alone could send you to his knees yet all he said was, "No, but good to know that you're so full of yourself". You let out a chuckle as you walked past him. The scent of you made Lorcan growl slightly.

It was a torturous week. Watching you. Sensing you. Hearing you. You were a tough cookie. Every time Lorcan had tried to jab you. You had always come out on top. "There's no way to cross the mountain", he said in one of the last meetings of the day. You just turned to him, "Oh, really? You are now an expert in that too?", you chirped. Fenrys snorted across the table. That man had attended every single meeting now that Lorcan was being put in his place daily. "I've traveled through that area countless of times, sweetie", he swilled his drink in his glass, "You haven't even been born yet".

Crickets sounded across the room as you watched him for a moment. "Careful your old age is showing", you chirped, dabbling your nail on the map, "I can ask a healer to make you a tonic so you would not forget to button your pants in the morning".

Lorcan let out a warning growl, grip on his glass tightening. Even Gavriel let out a chuckle. You threw the male a sympathetic look, "Did I bruise your ego, baby boy?", "You're walking on thin ice, dove", he pointed a warning finger at you. You leaned over pretending to bite it, "I'm commander Y/N to you".

And this went on and on. As if you two were in a silent battle with one another. Leading one another on. Yet there was something about you. The way you laughed sent shivers down Lorcan's back. Even if you pissed him off, he still walked right beside you as you monitored the training of the soldiers. He listened as you spoke to his man. His gaze kept them all in line because, maker, help them if Lorcan sensed their thoughts going elsewhere.

When the time for you to go came, Lorcan found himself dreading the moment. His mood dropped then he saw you saddling your horse, humming under your breath. Yep, you were the prettiest, strong-minded female he had ever seen. "Came to wish me a smooth journey back?", you straightened your posture, and brushed your hair away from your face. Lorcan leaned against the wall of the barn. "Nah, wanted to cut your saddle's leather", he breathed, making you let out a laugh. Even Lorcan felt his lips curving upwards.

"And here I thought you genuinely liked me", you stepped closer to him, shaking your head. "I hate smartass females like you", Lorcan growled, predator eyes piercing at you. You nodded your head, before quickly pulling at the flaps of his shirt, yanking him closer to you. Your lips met his and Lorcan's hands instantly reached for you. It was desperate and messy. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that you couldn't hear anything else.

You pulled away breathlessly, "A parting gift of sorts", you muttered, brushing your finger over Lorcan's lips, trying to get the red tint off, "So you wouldn't forget just how much you hate me". Lorcan growled as you stepped out of his embrace, turning to walk towards your horse. "When I'll get my hands on you...", Lorcan called after you, voice deep. "Actions speak louder than words, commander", you chirped over your shoulder. So Lorcan stepped forward, more than happy to show you the power of his actions.

[tenaciouschronicler]

Narratively Important Kids: The Similarities and Differences Between Them

Tentatively labeled The Beta Kids, these four teens make an unlikely friend group. Each has a different personality and upbringing that in other circumstances wouldn't have meshed well. As it stands they Do have areas of common interest and the online medium brought them together.

I don’t write essays, I really hate the structure and I have never been good at them. So I wont label this an essay but more of a compare/contrast breakdown. I did make some interesting realizations about their relationship to the Narrative, however. I'm interested in how it might play out if at all.

Let's start by establishing some points about our characters.

(1.8k words under the cut)

John Egbert

Zoosmell Pooplord- he and his shirt scrunch their faces as the text changes into [Try Again Smartass] in red

Guardian- Dad obsessed with Harlequins

Associated Color- Blue although his shirt icon is green

Sylladex Modus- Stack (FIFO at start)

House- Two story building with a roof deck in suburban neighborhood

Web Browser- Typheus

Strife options- Aggrieve/ Abjure/ Accede/ Abscond

Rose Lalonde

Flighty Broad- frowns in displeasure as the name fades away

Guardian- Mom obsessed with wizards

Associated Color- Purple

Sylladex Modus- Trees

House- Two story building with observatory and separate back extension (unexplored) in the forest

Web Browser- Cetus

Strife Options- Aggrieve/ (passive)Agress/ Abjure/ Abstain

Dave Strider

Insufferable Pri(ck)- interrupts typing by slicing the text box [This guy doesn’t have time for this sort of bullshit]

Guardian- Bro obsessed with puppets

Associated Color- Red

Sylladex Modus- Hash

House- 1 bedroom apartment in the middle of a city

Web Browser- Hephaestus

Strife Options- (Unknown)

Jade Harley

Farmstink Buttlass- is not awake and so does not try to correct or deny [Uh… I guess… I guess her name is Farmstink]

Guardian- Grandfather obsessed with (unknown)

Associated Color- Green although her shirt icon is blue

Sylladex Modus- Memory (out of 12 choices)

House- (unknown) story building atop mountain on an island

Web Browser- Echidna

Strife options- (unknown)

Just looking at these we can already find some similarities among the differences. John and Rose both have parental guardians, though in a technicality John also shares having a grandparent with Jade. Although not listed, Jade and Rose also have pets mentioned. Location wise, John and Dave are located in more populous areas while Rose and Jade are in rural areas. I've noted it before but John and Jade are the only two whose shirt does not match their text color. There's also the notion that John and Jade have what we can so far consider good relationships with their guardians compared to Rose and Dave. Also looking at this I realized the kids all have four letter first names and six letter last names. Very cool, wonder if that means anything.

Now lets explore some specific moments the kids share.

Before we even get to naming them, each kid gets a little intro. John and Rose are called young man or lady and ‘we’ are asked what their name is. For John, it is specified ‘What WILL’ as opposed to Roses ‘What WAS’ when mentioning names. Really helps add on to the fact John is just getting his name ‘today’. Dave and Jade are called cool dude and silly girl respectively. For these two we don’t get asked at all, instead we can guess or give their names. I find it very interesting that for John and Rose, the intros are kinda detached in talking about them. For John we barely get anything about him compared to the other kids while Rose its more about how we got here and is also the only intro where we talk about another character (John). Dave and Jades intros are more personalized. Dave's reads like he himself wrote it while Jade's is written about her but with fondness.

After the naming, we get to learn more about each kid. John and Rose once again are very similar here.

You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. [...]You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, […] You also like to play GAMES sometimes.

You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for RATHER OBSCURE LITERATURE. […] You have a fondness for the BESTIALLY STRANGE AND FICTITIOUS, […] And on occasion, if just the right one strikes your fancy, you like to play VIDEO GAMES with your friends.

John and Rose also, right after their name, state ‘As was previously mentioned’ showing how we are introduced during the present narrative. Dave was our first character intro that was not aligned to the timeline. His blurb is more personalized with flavor text that matches his personality. There are some bits that follow the formula of John and Rose like ‘variety of INTERESTS’ and the following list of those. Jade is the outlier in these, honestly shes the outlier in a lot of ways but we will get to them slowly. While the other three kids only get a single page, Jade gets three! When we first meet Jade she is asleep in the Atrium, not her bedroom, so we don’t actually get the whole thing until we reach there and even then we have to see the other half of her room to finish the picture. Jade has so many more words to describe her interests and is the only one to also mention her guardian.

Next is the reoccurring bit of retrieving arms. Johns is simple letting us know he does have arms but they are in his magic chest while Rose is more concerned with keeping her package private than refuting the lack of arms. Dave is super simple stating ‘Nah.’ when told to retrieve arms from the cinder blocks. I like the implication he Does have some there but he isn't gonna listen to us. For Jade, seeing as she is asleep at the time, the Narrator quickly stops us from even finishing the command:

THEY'RE RIGHT THERE. IN PLAIN SIGHT. LOOK, THEY ARE FLASHING RED.

The Narrator really shows their favoritism here.

Carrying on to another bit, ___ like a ___ and ___, each kid gets a different command and reacts differently depending on their personality. John admonishes himself for [the dumbest idea [hes] had in weeks!!!] while also admitting the idea is tempting. Where we are now in the comic, we can realize that John is actually more susceptible to the commands especially after we witnessed WV messing with John and implanting ideas, like the can opener. Rose just outright rejects the idea with the panel showing her physical disgust at the notion. We know shes not above silly moments, so this feels more like a rejection of following commands. Dave was our first moment where someone actually considered the command. While he rejects pissing on the turntable, he does consider bleating like a goat at a later date. Re-reading Dave's portion made me realize there's a couple of levels of irony beyond just the earth destroying meteor. We saw a piss-adjacent liquid in the form of apple juice spill on the turntables which he was so sure would never happen, much like the meteor or having to play the game. It seems like while Dave would consider following parts of commands, he actually has no choice to fulfill the whole of them, even if not to the letter. Jade in opposition to everyone, wholeheartedly embraces the command. She makes a show of finding the notion silly and a waste but then immediately after is willingly fulfilling the command.

These two bits when combined actually give us a lot of insight into how these kids might play SBURB. John is our reluctant party who wants to make his own choices but doesn’t have the means to Not follow the narrative. Rose will forge her own path and will not be swayed by the narrative. Dave also wants to be in control of himself but will be forced to carry out the narrative, against his wishes. Jade is favored by the narrative and so does not see reason to not follow the commands and does so wholeheartedly.

Let's carry on and explore the house. Looking out the window, John is the more ‘normal’ of the four showing the front yard and is very to the point in writing style. When he leaves his room we get to learn about his DAD's fondness for Harlequins. Rose sees her cats mausoleum and the neighboring lab with more prose that fits her writing syle. She also gives us a taste of her relationship with her MOM. Upon her departure we learn of her MOM’s fondness for Wizards. With Dave we don’t get to see out the window with him until much later. He is also interrupted by the change in narrative to Rose. Dave leaves his room before we look out this window (I'm going in order of what John did). His sentences are very short, blunt and to the point and we learn of his BRO’s fondness for Puppets. Jade sees the volcano in the distance and talks a little about her Grandfather. Jade does the reverse of everyone and Enters her room. This also has the added downside of not yet showing us what her GRANDPA is fond of.

The last thing I can write about is the songs the kids play. John’s is the first sound page in the story that he performs on the piano. Here we as the reader also learn how sound pages will function in the future. Rose plays on a violin and actually gets some narration about it. I'd mentioned when it first happened but its very sarcastic towards Rose and lends to the idea that the Narrative does not like her as someone who rejects it. Dave himself does not play his sick beats, instead we get to select what to play. He still afterwards feels as if he Had played. Even if he doesn’t know it the Narrative has control of him. Jade gets two instruments to play. The first is the flute we also get to play. The difference between her and Dave is we actually see her ‘playing’ the flute. Afterwards she comments that this is not what she knows how to play and she only did it because of the Narrative. Once in her bedroom we get the standard haunting song but it differs by showing the the surrounding landscape.

There's some parts that we don’t have for all the kids just yet such as them exiting the home, strifes and misattributed quotes.

This last bit will just be some random bullets of things the kids do or have, I'm sure there's some I have missed:

John and Jade both examine chests

John and Dave both go into the bathroom

John and Dave make forts

John and Dave both break windows in sylladex shenanigans

John and Rose needed to equip strife specibi

John and Rose both examine books (Grimoire / Sassacre)

John and Rose read Problem Sleuth

Rose and Jade have the same pillow but different colors

Dave and Jade both have puppet piles (Jade more willing)

Dave and Jade have dangerous items strewn about

Rose and Dave both have open concept kitchens

John, Dave and Jade read Midnight Crew

All kids read/ know of Dave’s SBAHJ

[rose-l-20]

Home sweet home ~ T.I.K

Masterlist

Blurb: After completing the mission, Iceman returns home to his Girlfriend (Y/N) Mitchell; the sister of Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. All her nerves evaporate as she looks into his blue eyes.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff.

[(Y/n) - Your name] [(y/h/c) - your hair colour] [(y/e/c) - your eye colour]

Tom “Iceman” Kazanksky x Fem!Reader. Will include Pete being Pete. Romantic and sibling interactions. She/her pronouns used. vague mention of a small age gap (6 years). Pet names “Angel” and “Babe” used. Short but sweet

Sitting in the living room, knees tucked under your chin, ‘Great balls of fire’ playing at a medium volume and staring absentmindedly out the window. The waves of the beach sparkled through your window, but it didn’t help your nerves. The blue water reminded you of your Boyfriend’s eyes, which you were scared that you would never get to see again. You knew that being the partner of a Navy Pilot came with its up and downs, but you always felt the same mix of hope and dread when your Boyfriend would go on missions. It also didn’t help that your older brother was also in the same profession. So not knowing if you would possibly loose either one, or both of them made your breathing shake and throat dry.

You got up with a sigh and went into your shared bedroom, getting one of his white dress shirts from the wardrobe and put it on like a cardigan. You brought a sleeve to your nose and inhaled the smell of his cologne, letting your mussels relax at last. “I need to take my mind off this for a while” you spoke your thoughts out loud while grabbing your bag and keys. So with the house locked, you made your way to your motorbike. Hopping on and the engine roaring to life.

You had no destination in mind, letting the bike lead the way. Your hair blowing in the wind, the cool breeze stroking your cheeks and the smell of the salty sea in the air brought you peace. Turning left, the bike led you up to a cliff on the nearest mountain. The gravel and soil crinkled and crunched unter the tires, finally getting to the cliff. Parking it in the shade, you walked to the edge. Sitting down with your feet dangling while taking in the view. You felt a tickle on your thigh and looked down in curiosity. Sitting on your thigh, was a green gecko which gazed its small eyes on you. You smiled, being fond of all animals leading you to stroke it’s back. The small reptile seemed content by the action, so it cutely rested its head and drifted off to sleep. Your smile grew, knowing that the little guy trusted you enough to sleep on you made you feel warm inside.

Letting time drift by as you took in the view while caring for the reptile, you realise that your Boyfriend and your brother could be home any minute. Carefully putting the creature onto the warm rock, you got up and rushed to your bike. You carefully but quickly made your way home, with your heart beating hard in your chest. You and your brother weren’t raised religious, but you were praying to God that they were both safe. As you approach the drive way, you don’t see either of their vehicles which made your nerves and adrenaline increase. You parked in your spot and got inside, as you wanted them to come home to a snack and a beer. You set out 2 large bags of Doritos and a six-pack of bottled beer.

You cleaned the non-existent dust off your hands and mumbled “Perfect” under your breath.

-

Ice and Maverick made their way off the boat, bags in hand. Their bodies in fresh, clean civilian clothes. They chatted to one another while they got to their vehicles. “When are you going to get a car Mav? God, you and (Y/n) are so alike it’s insane” Ice through his bag into his trunk. The brunette chuckled and answered like the smartass he is “when pigs fly!”, coaxing a laugh from the Pilot. Getting into/onto their vehicles, they drove to the Kazansky-Mitchell household. They both felt extremely excited to see you, as they had both expressed how much they missed you and hoped you were ok without them. Being gone for up to 6 months obviously would’ve had its ups and downs, so they didn’t want to waste another minute of letting you be without them.

They pull up into the driveway and park in their respective spots, getting out/off with haste to the front door. Ice got his keys out and unlocked the door, his key chain of an ice cube that you had gotten him for his birthday hitting the wood of the front door. Pushing the door open, the sound of fast paced walking was heard. All Ice saw was (y/h/c) and all he felt was arms going around his neck. He didn’t need processing time as his arms rushed to be around you, his head resting on your shoulder and a smile on his face. Light and muffled sobs were heard coming from you as you were officially not boyfriend-and-brother-less.

“Hey Angel, it’s ok. I’m here, I’m here” Ice ran his hands up and down your back to sooth you, which was muscle memory. “Babe, please look at me” he pushed you back a bit, wanting to look into your gorgeous (y/e/c) eyes. Your teary eyes looked up at his and everything you had been worrying about, evaporated. Your face lit up and you let out a sigh. As ice wiped any remaining tears from your face, the moment was interrupted by your brother feeling ‘left out’.

“Wow, this is a lovely wall! I’ve never seen anything like it! I just love how-” you both look at him as he stands with his hands on his hips, looking at the wall. You both laugh and roll your eyes, you went to Maverick’s side and slapped his shoulder. “-Ok, you can shut up now!” You silenced him and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, putting a hand on the back of your head. “You’re 6 years older than me and yet I question who really is the oldest here” you let go of him and it’s his turn to slap you, he chuckles. “I missed you too”

After you all settled down and you helped Ice bring in his bags. You all sat on the couch with the snacks and beer, making up for lost time. You laughed together, listened to each others stories of the past months and it felt like they never left.

“Alright guys, I’ll be back for dinner. I’ve just got a meeting with Viper about my Instructor position” Pete stood up and kissed the top of your head and shook Tom’s hand.

Once he was out the door Tom wasted no time in kissing you. His hand reached up and cupped your cheek, which you instantly melted into. Tom picked you up and placed you on his lap, hugging you close. He kissed your cheek, while his fingers played with your hair.

“Home sweet home” Tom’s lips stretched into a soft smile at the cheesy saying. You smiled back at him, mapping his face with your eyes. You still felt like you were dreaming, which is understandable given the length of time you were separated.

You placed your lips to his forehead and then to his lips, pecking them. “I love you Angel” Tom declared. Your smile grew and you didn’t hesitate to reply.

“I love you more Ice cube”

—————————————————

I hope you enjoyed my second imagine on Tumblr!

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I finished ACOTAR! And man, you were right. It got so much better! I’m still in a fuck Tamlin mood (Rhys and Lucien out here doing the most to help Feyre under the mountain while Tamlin didn’t do fucking shit!) but I can accept that he couldn’t do much bc of the curse.

BUT RHYS HAS MY WHOLE HEART! THIS MAN REALLY FOUGHT BESIDE HER TO HER LAST BREATH!

YESSSSS!! Just wait, you're gonna hate Tamlin even more and fall in love with Rhys more and more the further you go. I just love his little comebacks and his sarcasm and smartass mouth. I dunno how Feyre resisted him for so long. I mean the way he calls her "Feyre darling"...my legs would've been wrapped around him so quick 🤣🤣.

I just think of him having this smooth sort of purring kind of voice and I just

[missathlete31]

Left Behind- Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here- aka the chapter where Javy lets Command have it for leaving Jake behind.

Masterlist for all my angst Hangman stories is here

Chapter 2 Summary: We check in on what happened to Jake after he is abandoned behind enemy lines.

Warnings: Angst, injuries, and being captured by enemy forces. This is a very dramatic story folks- be prepared. Also Jake Seresin would be a smartass no matter the situation- we all know it.

On a frigid hill, hundreds of miles from home, Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin woke with a start. His senses immediately became overwhelmed, pain radiating through his body in waves of agony. Opening bleary green eyes slowly, Jake managed to catch a glimpse of his predicament; he was crumbled into the smoldering ruins of his F-18's cockpit, there were excruciating spasms seizing his entire body and the cold mountain air was biting at any exposed flesh it could find.

The memories came back to him slowly, like all meaningful things do, and Jake recalled his heroically dense plan of shielding Rooster from missiles while leaving himself open and unprotected. A part of him wanted to chastise himself for his actions but another part was proud; the others could chide him all they liked but he didn't leave his wingmen and under his leadership the impossible mission was a miraculous success. He wished he had made it back, if only to spare his best friend Javy from the heartbreak, but if someone had to lay their life down, Jake would always choose to sacrifice himself; he had less to go home to.

But Jake wasn't dead yet, no matter how hard the universe tried to make it so.

There was blood running down his face, catching the corner of his eyes from the angle that he laid. His neck felt too sore to move so Jake was stuck blinking the offending liquid out every few seconds, an action that was getting old real quick. He tried to shimmy to move instead, getting rewarded with a shock of pain that left him breathless and on the verge of passing out. When he was able to tamper down the blackness from his vision, Jake spared a better look at his situation and injuries. His head was throbbing with the telltale symptoms of a concussion, his ribs sore with each breath and shift. His left side was squashed into the broken debris of his jet, his head lulled to that side and his shoulder feeling out of its socket. His right leg lay at a sickening angle, his hip holding a piercing ache. His left leg was crunched under the wrecked remnants of his Super Hornet’s dashboard console, only a dull pain which was worrisome to his frazzled mind. He vaguely felt stickiness along his back but Jake couldn’t pinpoint an origin point; the pilot could only hope it wasn’t too fatal.

His synopsis of his state of affairs left one vital fact clear for the American: there was no chance of Jake getting himself out of this dilemma alone, especially when even the slightest movement caused a whimper to escape his throat.

Jake's eyes took to the skies on instinct, but there was no hope there. The sun has risen all the way by now and there was barely a cloud above him. Even more concerning, there was no plane. No teammate or even a foe circling, no one to see the stranded pilot stuck in his craft, locked in a battle over what will kill him first: blood loss or hypothermia.

There was a rational part of Jake's mind that knew command would have ordered his team back, to save who could be saved after Hangman was shot down with no ejection or parachute. But there was also a part, albeit a tiny one, that couldn't help the twinge of disappointment to see no one had turned back for him. Perhaps his parents were right; he amounted to nothing; nothing worth caring about at least. His team had abandoned him and from the lack of any sort of rescue in the sky, it seemed his country had as well.

The day flitted on, and if his wrist watch wasn't broken perhaps Jake could have gauged it better. Instead after an indiscernible amount of time, the sound of voices reached the American's ear. He tried to prepare himself but he was limited. His body still ached, and though time and the temperature had dulled and numbed most of his body, he was still trapped under his jet's debris. Jake had his sidearm, but it was on his left side, crushed into his side as he teetered towards that angle. He knew he had a full magazine, and some extra rounds stashed in his gear but he was in no condition to scale a defensive stand. He would have to be patient and read his opportunity.

Jake hated being patient.

Soldiers trekked into his vision, their uniforms informing Jake that not only were they enemies but the burns and dirt meant they came from the tomahawked airfield a few miles away. They all took peeks into the cockpit with raised weapons, catching a glance at the injured American and sharing smug expressions. The parade of onlookers seemed endless and besides putting into numbers how outgunned Jake was, it didn't help the steady throb in his head. The annoyance pushed Jake into an eye roll that made him border on a nauseous attack, stopped only by his desire to not seem even frailer to his capturers. Instead Jake deflected to where he always went when he was uncomfortable or in pain, his Hangman persona. Channeling his inner asshole, Jake snapped towards the nearest soldier, "Yeah, I know, I'm a vision" he sneered arrogantly, "now will you all stop your gawking and help me?" He was ignored, like he knew he would but Jake felt some vindication when he startled the young soldier back a few paces and the line of guests receded.

The men who surrounded him spoke in a language that Jake should have recognized but couldn't at the moment with the pounding in his head. They talked fast, almost as though excited and Jake could hear the sounds of a pair of footsteps running in the opposite direction, perhaps to alert someone. The others lowered their weapons and while that was at least a little comforting for the injured American, he knew it was because in his current state he didn't pose much risk of escape.

Jake was in a bad situation if he was honest with himself. Alone, surrounded by armed enemy soldiers and injuries that were progressively getting more dire as time went on. It would be easy for the man to start to panic, or beg to his adversaries for some kind of pardon or peace but that was never Hangman's style. Instead he decided to use the language barrier to his advantage and to do the two things Jake was best at besides flying: talking and annoying the crap out of his company.

So Jake talked.

"So since we're all friends" the blonde began sparing a look at the un-amused group around him, "I'm going to let y'all know a few secrets." There were looks of interest from his companions, but all of them carried the faraway look of misunderstanding. "The first" Jake raised a bloody index finger, not noticing he had skimmed it in his crash. He paused a moment looking at it, the blood bringing back some of the pain he was trying so hard to forget about but he shouldered on, "Okay first secret" he got back on track, "Phoenix- she's a female pilot" he made a face, "I know- I know, your culture probably frowns on that but Billy" he called, choosing a random name for the closest soldier to him and going with it, "you really got to embrace the 21st century man, feminism and women's rights. It's very big right now" he lectured. 'Billy' merely stared silently though, so Jake continued his story, "anyway Phoenix, she has these yogurts that she keeps in the ready room fridge which I mean is her first mistake and  even worse, she leaves them unmarked! I guess she does it because she knows everyone is too scared to piss her off directly but how is anyone supposed to know for sure they are hers, you know? Play stupid games win stupid prizes am I right Fred?" he turned to the soldier on his left who also ignored him. "Alright maybe Fred doesn't get it but anyway I ate two of them because I mean look at me" he gave a wink to his audience, "a man like me needs his sustenance." Jake gave a chuckle until he felt the pull of pain in his abdomen and he winced. The inflection of pain seemed to get the most reaction from his capturers as something was shouted by the goon named 'Fred' and another puny private was ushered away. Jake spat onto the snow on his side and felt his heart stutter at the red tinge in his saliva. "Well that's not good" he mused softly, seeing 'Billy' share a look of concerned interest. "But alas-" Hangman refused to stop his show, "where was I" he continued, "ah yes Phoenix's yogurt, I ate two of them and she noticed of course, the feisty little bird, and well, I might have blamed Yale. Which-" he gave a grimace, "wasn't the nicest thing to do but he hip checked me during dogfight football so the jerk deserved it. Besides Phoenix was way nicer about it to him than she would have been with me” Jake sighed animatedly, “that Phoenix, she loves to pretend to hate me but how can you hate all this?” he flashed a smile to which his only answer was the sound of wind drifting through the snow and anxious fidgeting from the men around him.

In the distance Jake could hear what sounded like a jeep coming closer which meant the Calvary had arrived. It didn't take a genius to know that the decision about whether Jake was worth the effort to extract was going to be made by someone other than the lowly foot soldiers that had found him but Jake was hoping for a little more time. His stomach churned at the thought of his possible final moments on earth, anticipating a bullet into his brain if his enemies were generous or being left to freeze to death if they weren't. His mind went to Coyote, his promise to his best friend on the deck this morning that he would come back, that they would take a leave together and just be young and stupid like they were in the academy days. Jake stifled a sob at how much his heart ached for his brother Javy, a wet shudder earning him a pleased look from 'Fred'. Jake scowled back and prepared for his next verbal diatribe.

"Alright next secret is that I hate roller-coasters" the American mused loudly, noticing a few of the soldiers sigh from the trademark Hangman annoyance. He really did impress himself with how quickly he could exasperate a room, "ironic I know" Jake jested as he persisted, "especially with this line of profession but something about not being in control" he huffed a sigh, "just never sat well with me you know?" He looked over to see one soldier watching him with narrowed eyes. "I think I'm going to name you Evil Henchman Four." Jake announced to no one in particular, "You're clearly not in charge enough to be one through three." When the man gave no reaction, he continued his monologue, "so anyway back to roller-coasters, I hate them but J-Javy," he ignored the way his voice broke on the man's name and hoped the others did too, "my best friend, the guy loves them, so every time we are on break he makes me go to a Six Flags like a bunch of middle schoolers." He turned to a different soldier, "have you ever been?" When he received no reply, Jake just sighed, "Right communism, not usually big with the amusement parks. Anyway" he drawled, smirking when he noticed a few guys exchanged looks, "I promised Javy that we would go to the New Jersey Six Flags after this mission and ride Kingda Ka which for those of you playing at home might not know is the fastest roller-coaster in the United States." Jake announced the last bit like a game show host, smirking until the newly named Evil Henchmen Four tilted his head. "Have you heard of it?" the blonde asked, strangely excited at the prospect of being understood, "Kingda Ka?"

"No" a deeper voice that was heavily accented answered from his other side, "he hasn't."

Jake turned his neck so fast at the sound of English words, if he didn't already have whiplash, he did now. The pilot winced before recovering, peering out from a hole in his wreckage to catch the insignia of a captain standing before him. "What a chatty little American" the commanding officer reproved with a smirk that looked cartoonishly evil, "all stuck in his plane."

"That's me" Jake smirked cockily, "now would you mind asking one of your silent brooders over there to get me the hell out of here? I think my leg fell asleep."

"And why" the man leaned down to face Jake directly, his brown eyes distressingly wide, "would I have them do that?"

Hangman offered as much of a shrug as he could manage in his position, "because I asked oh so nicely" he brokered, his unease rising as the captain gave a merry laugh. "Oh you are entertaining aren't you? A real Johnny Carson."

"Jesus" the cocky blonde scoffed, "I know I made the joke before but really, what century do you think it is?"

The commander ignored the jab, instead inspecting the ruins of Jake's plane. "Quite the predicament you have yourself in American, all broken and alone."

"Not alone now" Jake knew he should keep his mouth shut but he was never good at following his own advice, "not with my friends Fred, and Billy and Evil Henchmen Number Four." He smiled sideways towards the Captain, "I can give you a name as well but the ones popping up in my head might not be the most flattering."

"You can laugh with your cheerful jokes all you want pilot, we will laugh when your blood finishes coloring the snow." He motioned to under Jake where a steady pool of the vital fluid seemed to be seeping. Jake's body instantly lurched, coming back to the pain that he had spend so much energy trying to ignore and feeling the sticky wet liquid that was dampening even more of his flight suit. Jake raised shock-widened eyes and was rewarded with chuckles, the captain announcing something in his native tongue to the group that had them all looking haughty.

Jake moved his right hand across his body to where he knew his gun was kept. The situation had turned progressively worse and though he had no illusions that he could get out of a gunfight alive, Jake figured it was better than being at the mercy of Captain Chuckles and his band of Merry Men. His movements must have alerted the others because frantic foreign calls started at once and a few weapons were drawn. Jake froze before turning back to the Captain. “What did they say?” he asked, not expecting the truth.

“They are all fighting for the right to shoot you dead. It is quite the honor it seems.”

The blonde pilot gave a short smirk at the news of his impending death,  “Well I always like to inspire a crowd” he spoke.

“But you are no use to me dead,” the Captain informed icily, sending a chill down Jake’s spine, “besides lessening a headache.” He reached a hand through the slit and captured Jake’s jaw harshly in his grip, “but I think I can find a better use for that large mouth, don’t you?”

“If you think I’m telling you anything useful” Hangman started, “you might as well kill me now-“

“Where’s the fun in that” the older man turned to two soldier, barking orders that didn’t sound anything like ‘let the nice American pilot go.’ Jake couldn’t contain the shudder through his body as the men came close and began pulling at the debris surrounding his legs. “Stop- shit!” he moaned as a wave of pain assaulted him. But like before no one listened, instead they kept shifting until a particular large piece of the jet came off his leg, a flash of white light blinding his eyes until the sweet relief of unconsciousness beckoned the American under.

When Jake came back to awareness he was being held by Evil Henchmen Four and another soldier that looked so much like his old High School Principal Jake’s concussed mind wondered if Mr. Sergison might have enlisted with a foreign country’s army. His injured body held none of his own weight, instead falling lulled between the two sets of arms. Pain was overpowering his senses, the pilot barely able to comprehend that he was out of the wreckage of his F-18 until a harsh slap smacked against his cheek.

“Where is my talkative American now?” the Captain jeered, slapping two more times and laughing when Jake hissed at the battering. “We rescue you, American, where is our thanks?”

“Thank you” Jake deadpanned, forcing his green eyes up to face his adversary. “Now you think you can drop me off at the airport, oh wait we bombed that to shit right?” His sass was rewarded with two punches to the gut, blood hacked out in rough coughs as he lost his footing and was once more at the mercy of the men who held him.

“Funny you say that” the foreign man explained, “because the good men you kill have new uses.” He motioned behind him where Jake watched ‘Fred’ and another soldier lug a dead body forward. “Strip him” the captain ordered and Jake didn’t have a moment to focus before his tattered remains of his flight suit were ripped off him and he was left in his wife beater and boxer shorts in the harsh winter weather. “At- At least buy me dinner first” Hangman tried to joke but he was pushed into the wet snow without a second glance. Between the pain of his injuries and the numbness of the freezing snow on his exposed skin, Jake cried out with devastating whimpers but all he got for his trouble was a sharp kick to his kidney.

A soldier leaned over him with a hand outstretched and for the strangest moment Jake thought it was to offer him help. Instead the man ripped the dog tags from his neck, leaving the American feeling even more naked than how he felt after his clothes were taken. “Wait-“ he groaned, pushing his body as much as he could to see where the precious metals were going. The soldier handed it to ‘Fred’ who was putting them over the dead foreign body along with Jake’s flight suit. The pair stuffed the body into the wreckage remains then hollered for one of their comrades who stepped forward with an old fashion flamethrower and started to get it ready.

Jake watched it all with a detachment born from his concussion. He couldn’t seem to comprehend what he was witnessing until he was pulled along the snowy terrain until he was a safe distance from the impending flames. The enemy forces gathered together to watch, talking excitedly and with a look of glee as the orange glow seemed to erupt in front of them.

The Captain moved down the line of his men to stand right in front of Jake. “Now they will never find you” his capturer explained, the fiery glow of Jake’s burning Super Hornet washing over his face and making it even more menacing. Jake was slung back over the two enemy soldiers and shuffled forward, away from his jet and the man wearing his dog tags, away from any chance he might ever have of rescue.

One week later a highly trained Navy Seal team was deployed behind enemy lines to the last listed location of Lieutenant Jake Seresin. The soldiers found the crash site quickly, noticing the burned ruins of the Super Hornet and an unidentifiable body inside. They radioed their base headquarters, filling them in on the remains in the pilot’s seat. A calloused hand of the Seal’s leader reached forward, finding the dog-tags that hung from the charred corpse and pulling them gently towards the moonlight. There, reflecting in the lunar glow was the name ‘Jake Seresin’ engraved in the metal. With confirmation back from command, the team carefully extracted the destroyed body and packed it with respect to bring home.

A moratorium was issued the next morning to all Navy personnel, stating that Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin was officially KIA.

When Javy Machado received the news, he collapsed to the ground in an anguished cry. His friends and teammates huddled around him; working together to try to provide even the smallest semblance of comfort but it was futile. Javy cried for his best friend and cursed the Navy, the Daggers, and everyone else to all hell for taking his brother from him. He and the rest of the team were put on a mandatory grievance leave while the details of Jake’s funeral was set in Coyote’s hands; the only person in the world to claim Jake as family.

Meanwhile the man Coyote and the rest of the team mourned for laid in a bunker tied up. His body tortured over the past week, bleeding and battered and disfigured. Jake’s larynx hurt from all his abuse but still he found just the tiniest voice each night to pray, whispering out to the stars for his friends and his country not to give up on him.

[geraskierficrecs]

End of the Year Updates (2022)

Thank you all for hanging around and continuing to be amazing friends, writers, artists, and readers for the Witcher fandom!  You have all been incredibly supportive and make me so glad that I am a part of this too.  To that end, I’ve collected all the fics I’ve completed or are in progress this year.

Links and descriptions under the cut.

In-Progress:

The Sin Eater

“He doesn’t have much time now,” the demon observed, “Even Witchers need oxygen. This is your only hope of saving him.”

Jaskier’s face went firm and determined, turning back to the creature with no sign of his earlier hesitation.

The demon looked amused. “Are you sure he’d worth giving up so much?”

“All that and more,” Jaskier whispered.

Then he stepped into the circle. ————————— To save Geralt, Jaskier lets himself be possessed by the demon he was hunting. Will there be anything left of the bard for Geralt to save?

The Fixer

In the world of the wealthiest members of society, there is only one man who you call when there is a problem that needs to disappear. Whether it's killing off your competition or ensuring you have the blackmail you need to keep your enemies at bay, Jaskier--better known as Dandelion--has made a living getting his hands dirty.

So, when the offer comes to track down the missing child of a billionaire CEO, Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is more than happy to go undercover and get the information they need to ensure Geralt doesn't become a problem.

But what happens when he starts to have feelings for the kind, smartass barista and his strange family?

Completed Multi-Chapter Works:

Lark of My Heart

“What do I smell like to you?”

Geralt looked up from where he was sharpening a blade to frown at the bard. “What?”

“You’re always sniffing around me,” Jaskier explained with a smile that covered the sheepish blush on his cheeks, “And I've read that Witchers have a keen sense of smell so tell me, what do I smell like to you?”

Home. ___________________________

After the mountain, Geralt faces the reality of what his temper has destroyed and tries to pretend like he's fine with that. (He isn't.)

Call Me Sunshine (Jaskier/Eskel)

It becomes a habit to keep an eye on the front door every Wednesday. Jaskier told him after the second week that he tries to grab the flowers on his lunch break. It’s how he found the shop in the first place.

“I tutor a kid near here,” he tells Eskel as he watches the florist trim the thorns off some David Austen roses. “He’s a menace, but his mom wants him to learn piano and is willing to pay for all the grey hairs I’m getting.”

“You play piano?”

“And a few other instruments. My favorite is the lute.”

Eskel grins a little. “A lute? Do you moonlight as a bard too?” ___________________________

Or, a florist AU with enough misunderstandings and pining to fill an entire season of a CW show.

Dying for You (Again and Again)

By his understandably shoddy memory, Jaskier had died over 1300 times since he first drew breath several hundred years ago.

Somehow, none of those deaths ever seemed to hurt as much as the dreams of Geralt. ___________________________________

Or, the Old Guard AU no one asked for, but I wrote.

With My Last Breath

Jaskier is tortured by Nilfgaard--angst, whump, and fluff follow.  In that order.

Wolves and Men

There was a challenge in his expression. A dare for Geralt to cast him aside once more.

Like he had on the mountain.

If life could give me one blessing—Geralt shook his head to banish the memory of those vicious words. Words he’d had plenty of time to regret in the years since Jaskier had walked away. Since Gerat had sent him away.

“Jaskier,” he whispered, voice thick. ________________________ Jaskier thought he'd found the perfect alpha to follow for the rest of his life only to be cast aside. He should have known better--the White Wolf always hunts alone.

If Wishing Made It So

Geralt stared down into the ravine and the glittering rocks below and wished the rumors of the Witcher’s missing emotions were true. He wished for a lot of things, then, staring down at the smear of blue silk stained red.

None of them came true. ———-

On a hunt that goes bad, Geralt is forced to imagine a world where his bard will no longer walk at his side.

Series:

Villainous Universe

Series featuring a supervillain Jaskier falling for the superhero Witcher, Geralt of Rivia.  Contains explicit content as well as all my favorite angsty tropes.

The Sentinel/Guide Verse

Jaskier was half way through a lackluster rendition of one of his least popular songs when his world went static.

In his ears, a foreign heartbeat thundered, ragged and wounded. It felt as though his lungs had gone sideways with the sensation. Even the air itself tasted like it was charged with lightning, bright and bitter as ozone. Deep in his gut, he felt something urging himself forward, pulling him like some invisible string towards an unknown destination.

Something brushed across his senses, rough as tree bark, and sinking into his skin to crawl like ants beneath. He froze, eyes darting around the room like he could spot whoever it was that had sent his senses scrambling against the hard earned shields he was always careful to maintain. In his hands, his fingers faltered, melody disappearing beneath the wave of wrong that felt like it was choking him.

The answer was simple--and impossible.

There was a Sentinel here.

The Full Cops and Robbers Verse

An enemies to lovers story revolving around a charming, mysterious thief and the cop that is absolutely done with his shit.

The Witcher Soldier Verse

Geralt barely managed to slam the pommel of his sword up in a glancing blow that shattered the metal latch holding the Soldier’s mask in place. The Soldier rolled into the movement with a dancer’s grace and came to his full height just as easily. For a moment, his hands reached up to run over the exposed skin, before he slowly turned to face Geralt once more.

The Witcher froze in a mixture of horror and near-frantic hope.

He stared into the eyes of a dead man and whispered, “Jaskier?”

The Soldi--the bard frowned at him in confusion and spoke with a voice rough with disuse,

“Who the hell is Jaskier?” ___________________________

Or, the Winter Soldier AU.

A Light in the Dark Series

One will rise And one will fail, But none can escape destiny’s call. ____________

Jaskier is a bard with a secret. For all the world knows, he strolled onto a stage ten years ago and made a name for himself as the sidekick of the White Wolf. But what came before? And will he be able to escape destiny's call?

A Three Part Series Exploring My Take on a Feral Version of Jaskier

One Shots:

Star Crossed

“It’s not true.”  The man’s voice is rough as a knife over gravel and is short enough to make the bard falter at his tone.  It takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the story he’d told as part of the festival.

“You don’t believe in the lost lovers?” he asks, offended to the very core of his romantic heart.  He stands a little straighter to glare up at the larger man.  “I’ll have you know that my story comes from the works of Master Essi herself--she knew the lovers herself.  It's the foundation story of our whole town and this festival!  How can you say the story isn’t true?”

A shadow crosses over the stranger’s face and eyes that flash gold flick away from the bard to stare at the trees and the lonely hill.  Despite himself, the bard feels his heart ache at the grief in his expression.

“He didn’t come back.”

Burn For You

Jaskier twitched helplessly as the women filed out of the mill and left him where he was bound on the floor.  He arched his back slightly, trying to see to where the fire was slowly creeping from the bed to drip onto the floor.  It hit the edge of the floor and he closed his eyes, going limp with exhausted pain.

His body ached as he lay on the ground, bleeding.  The floor was cold at his back and noise came through staticky and broken like a voice through a waterfall.  He could just vaguely hear footsteps thudding toward him accompanied by shouting.  Still, his vision refused to focus, and the only thing he could identify around him was the flickering red of the flames reflected in the cloud heavy with rain that would never be enough to stop the fire spreading through the mill.

All he could hope was that the smoke killed him before he began to burn.

Gilded With Blood (Aiden/Lambert)

Aiden watched the slowly growing pool of his life’s blood dripping onto the red rock below him. His chest rose and fell in ragged little gasps made awkward by the sword still pinning him to the earth. Pain was far away now and he knew only the cold chill of death would replace it.

As his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but think:

This was going to destroy Lambert.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Seducing Your Fiancé

It is a truth universally known that Geralt fucking hated Viscount Julien de Lettenhove.

Their rivalry was the stuff of legends, the sort that drew the eye and the idle gossip of members of court. It ensured that each time they came within five feet of the other, the entire room would go still, watchful. Eager. For what could be more delicious, more exciting than a fight between the Crown Prince and his new betrothed?

I’ll Sleep Forever Next to You

“Geralt?” Eskel’s voice distracts him from his spiraling thoughts. “What’s wrong? Where’s the lark?”

Geralt seizes on his brother in arms, near desperate for someone who might know what to do. “He’s sick. He’s, he’s coughing, feverish--”

“How long?” The older Witcher looks like he does before battle, steady and fierce.

“I, I’m not sure.” Abruptly, Jaskier’s early night has all manner of new meanings. Had he been feeling poorly that long? His brow furrows. “He sounded like he was having trouble breathing last night.” _____________________________________

Or, three Witchers freak out over a bard with a cold.

Don’t Leave Me

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--”

“Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.”

“S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?”

Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

Between One Heartbeat and the Next

Please. Please, not this.

Don’t make him listen to Jaskier’s voice beginning to strain in a way it never did on stage even as he continued to reassure Geralt.

“It’s okay… Geralt, you’ll be okay.”

Not without you.

“You’re...gonna be fine in...just a little while.”

You won’t.

“ ‘s...not...so bad...like going to sleep.”

Nononononopleaseno

Waiting for the Sun

Jaskier was dying.

The confirmation came with each cramping, shallow breath and spots of grey drowning out the mottled stone walls that would become his tomb. After all the years he’d spent terrified of this moment, it was almost anticlimactic to realize he was too tired now to fight back any longer. He was dying. The world would continue without him.

Blood dripped from his fingertips and formed erratic patterns against his own skin. Over the sound of his racing heart he could hear footsteps and murmured voices that made him want to vomit or rage in fury.

They were watching him. He didn’t need to look up into the window to see the strange faces twisted into cruel smiles, pleased at his suffering. He hated them.

Not a Damsel, Not in Distress

The one closest to him raised his trembling sword with a panicked expression at the unexpected violence. “Wh--what the fuck? You’re just a bard.”

Jaskier’s smile was more a baring of his teeth, made more alarming with the blood sprayed across his skin and clothing. “Your first mistake was believing that.” _____________________________

Geralt and Jaskier are ambushed by a pack of mercenaries. It was really their fault for believing the yellow eyed Witcher was the only threat.

Frantic

Geralt was hanging limply against the rough bark. Two daggers kept him pinioned like a bug in place and left dark streaks of drying blood down his arms and exposed chest. Silver hair was matted close to his forehead from a sluggishly bleeding would that left golden eyes hazy and unfocused. Worst still were the bruises littering every inch of exposed skin like a collage of torment.

His Witcher had been tortured.

———

There was a name for the emotion burning like fire in his blood, eating away at the dandelion bard that had made his living seeking the pleasure of others. A simple phrase that barely encompasses the new tension in his bones and made his mind focus with singular, violent intent.

Wrath.

A Blade in the Back

There was a flicker of movement at his side and he felt something slam into his unprotected flank.  Magic blew past him, ruffling his hair but leaving him unharmed. Surprised by the sudden attack, Geralt stumbled and whirled to face whoever had hit him.  

Only instead of a beast, he saw a bard.

Jaskier clutched at his chest where a dark stain seemed to spread over his heart.  His bright eyes stared at Geralt helplessly, mouth opening and closing without sound.  Geralt stared back at him in shock until Jaskier dropped heavily to his knees, collapsing like a puppet with his strings cut. ___________

In the midst of a battle, Jaskier is hit with an unknown curse. All at once Geralt finds himself locked in battle with the only man he wants to protect.

The Sweetest Poison

“And what do you want in return?  Your freedom? Your safety?”

Jaskier didn’t flinch from her scorn and Geralt could see his knuckles go white with the force of his grip around the small vial.  “Save him.”

The mage stared at him for a beat before letting out a burst of laughter that echoed off the wall like the flutter of vultures wings.  “All this trouble for the Witcher?” she asked incredulously, “Tell me, boy, do you really think he would do the same for you? That he cares at all what happens to the bard who follows after him like a lost puppy?”  She stepped forward, confident as a soldier preparing his death blow. “Oh, I know who you are, bard. I watched you trailing after the Witcher, eager for every scrap of affection or interest he’ll toss your way. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jaskier was breathing heavily now, jaw clenched tight enough that Geralt could see the muscles fluttering with effort.

“Were you hoping this ill-conceived rescue mission would be enough to make him finally notice you?” she murmured with a mocking smile, “Poor little bard--always singing of love but never truly experiencing it.”

Into the Jaskierverse Additions:

Interlude: The Thief

Jaskier opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, anything, but it was ripped away by the jagged shards of reality tearing through him.  It was the djinn all over again.  The agony of watching Geralt disappearing beneath the rubble of the house.  The first chill that always signaled Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen.  The pull of power and magic that he now recognized as the moment before a spell hit and he was left with no option but to wait for the pain to hit--helpless in the whims of an unnatural force.  

Only this time there was nothing to stop the raw power that seemed determined to unravel him down to his very soul.  

He

     was

                remade.

Not Without You

“Geralt?” he finally whispered, a fragile hope in the familiar word.

“I’m here,” Geralt said as he crossed the room to stand next to the table.  “I’ve got you.”

Kicking aside the corpse of the mage, he fumbled with the restraints until he was able to release Jaskier’s arms and legs.  They twitched weakly against him and Geralt ran his hands over the rough shirt and pants Jaskier had been dressed in, searching for any other injuries.

“Geralt?”

“It’s me,” Geralt soothed. “They won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

Jaskier’s hands found an anchor against the front of Geralt’s shirt and he shuddered violently.  “I thought...I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

[lamppostss]

"Fevers" [1/3] (Disc)

“These mountains fucking suck. We should’ve gone around.” Concludes the woman with a mild coughing fit following her words. “M-maybe it’s… Malifex.” Quietly peeps the bard from behind everyone’s back. “Shush, ye eejit, stay quiet.” Interjected the staunch dwarf, pensively running his stubby fingers through his luxurious, dark beard. “We’ve seen malifex. It did nae look like this.” An awkward pause followed suit, as everyone stood frozen in place, contemplating one thing or another. They have been going through the mountain pass for the last week or so. The endless myriad of afflictions one could easily catch in those lands couldn’t be ruled out easily. Not without a medical specialist on hand. “Wizard.” Grumbled the dwarf, turning to the gaunt figure propped up against the wooden wall. “We need diagnosis.” The quiet, thin man, slightly titled his head to the side. His icy eyes were filled with anything but positive emotions. “Me? A doctor?” he scoffs. “You must have mistaken me for someone else. I am no expert on lizards. You should get a veterinarian or something…” “Crouton-eating smartass.” Hisses the young woman, still in bed, turning her head away from the pale mage. “Hope your nuts freeze off…” “Children. Silence.” Interjects the dwarf. “For now – everything points to the Mountaintop Fever. Which…” “Which sounds like a good title for a song!” pipes up the bird musician, before almost getting a good heavy-handed slap from the squat warrior. “Told ye to shush, Lavender. As for you two…” he turned to the wizard and the rogue. “Vallarys – you will stay in bed for the next few days. Soleil – you will also stay and watch over her. Got it?” The reception of such plans was… mixed, to say the least. The fair-headed young man let out a noise that can best be described as a growling sigh. “Merde de chien et gravier…” The scaled rogue, meanwhile, seemed conflicted. “I am not some doddering hag! I can still…” the words of protest were interrupted with a series of heavy coughs. “Fucking hells… Sure. Baguette-boy, fetch your mistress some coffee. And more pillows. And scratch my back while you’re at it.” she adds, with a smug snicker.

“Master Dwarf, is this… really necessary?” with a sheepish annoyance to his tone mumbled Soleil. “Yes. You are the best cook out of us three. Besides – those books of your must have some notes on basic care of sick people.” “Hey! I am not sick! Just… under the weather, that’s all. If only my callboy was more responsive…” interrupts the dragonborn, theatrically leaning back with her hand over her eyes. “Mhm.” nods the dwarf. “Me and Lavender will go and talk to those diggers from the camp ahead. And you two will stay put.”

The warrior left the room, with the bard following and giving the other two a slightly absent-minded hand-wave. As soon as the heavy footsteps and claw scratching quiet down, the young rogue tries springing back into action. “Well, so much for my coffee and pillows. You’re a shit nurse, has anyone told you that before?”

Having finished her defiant rant, she gets up from the bed, adjusts her armor, stands fully up, takes a step… Falls forward onto a single knee. Wide eyed. Scared. What kind of fever is this? Her whole body felt like it was made of papier mâché – weightless, empty, with nothing to put behind it. Shit. And that wizarding rat was staring. She had to put on a brave face, she had to… “Are you hurt?” suddenly asked the pale man, crouching before her and trying to get a look into her eyes. “ME? Hurt? No? I’m fine. What’s it to you anyway? I am not a child, I don’t need you to kiss my boo-boos or whatever…” “You are an ass.” Concluded Soleil. “Get back to bed. I’ll get you your coffee and breakfast. And some clothes too. You won’t be needing armor right now anyway.” Vallarys tries to look as prideful and stoic as possible, all while the dastardly academic awkwardly, but gently helps her get onto the bed again. “Don’t forget a dessert.”

“Well, right now I can offer you a sugar sandwich or sweet nothings. Be right back.” The wizard folds his black robes into a neat square and pushes them aside, walking out of the room as well. “Loser…” she mumbles, stacking pillows under her head. Maybe, a part of her did prefer the company of a poncy bookworm to the company of literally no-one. Maybe… The kitchen in this particular house was a rather old, brick-and-wood type of deal. The stench of dust and soot assaulted the wizard’s senses as he got around to making breakfast for himself and his newly acquired patient. Lighting the stove with a finger click, he pondered to himself about a great deal of things. First of all – the rogue was right in one thing, the mountains did fucking suck. Second – what did he do to deserve being left alone with a free-spirited verbally abusive glorified lizard? The bitter aftertaste of being told to serve. Bring that, place this, fuck off to a closet until called. So ever familiar. So ever suffocating. Blue-blooded know it all. He should spit in her coffee. Lock her in a dark room like THEY looked HIM. And almost forget to put the food on the stove. Again… He wouldn’t. He was above such pettiness. Besides – what kind of monster responds to banter with actual abuse? She was at her most vulnerable. And despite his anger – the thought of hurting her alone made the fair-headed man wince in disgust. As the fire crackled under the newly set frying pan, Soleil let out a heavy sigh. It will be difficult. But he will endure. He’s been through worse. Being dramatic about a spoiled bed-ridden frog is… Unnecessary.

[feyresdaughter]

A Court of Wings and Ruin, chapter 41:

Every time Azriel spoke, I heard his roar of pain as that bolt went through his chest. Every time Mor countered an argument, I saw her pale-faced and backing away from the king. Every time Rhys asked for my opinion, I saw him kneeling in his friends’ blood, begging the king not to sever our bond.

I barely touched my dinner. And I barely slept that night, twisting in the sheets until Rhys woke and patiently listened to me murmur my fears until they were nothing but shadows.

I love them, your honor. I love their little moments

The usual attire— except my own. I had not found a new gown. For there was no other gown that could top the one I now wore as I stood in the foyer while the clock on the sitting room mantel struck eleven. We had taken my gown from Starfall and refashioned it, adding sheer silk panels to the back shoulders, the glittering material like woven starlight as it flowed behind me in lieu of a veil or cape . If Rhysand was Night Triumphant, I was the star that only glowed thanks to his darkness, the light only visible because of him.

Feyre loves her Starfall gown 🥰🥺

I caught Cassian glancing at me for the third time in less than a minute and demanded, “What?” His lips twitched at the corners. “You just look so …” - “Here we go,” Mor muttered. “Official,” Cassian said with an incredulous look in her direction. He waved a Siphon-topped hand to me. “Fancy.” - “Over five hundred years old,” Mor said, shaking her head sadly, “a skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complimenting ladies is still something he finds next to impossible."

I love their sibling energy, it's hilarious

Azriel, wreathed in shadows by the front door, chuckled quietly. Cassian shot him a glare. “I don’t see you spouting poetry, brother.” Azriel crossed his arms, still smiling faintly. “I don’t need to resort to it.”

Lie he def would

Mor let out a crow of laughter, and I snorted, earning a jab in the ribs from Cassian. I batted his hand away, but refrained from the shove I wanted to give him.

THE SIBLING ENERGY

Even as a merchant’s daughter, I could not calculate the worth of any of it.

See, Feyre was matching since she was a kid. Why do people think she's bad at it

“Glowworms,” Rhys told me as the tiny, bluish globs crusted in the arches of each nook seemed to glitter like the entire night. [...] “Pick one,” Rhys whispered in my ear. “A glowworm?” He nipped at my earlobe. “Smartass.”

Thehehe adorable. I love Feyres sass

I had been terrified once, in Tamlin’s court, of being given a crown. Had dreaded it. And I supposed that I indeed had never fretted over it when it came to Rhys. As if some small part of me had always known that this was where I was meant to be: at his side, as his equal. His queen.

No fr, the fact that she was so scared that Tamlin could gift her a crown but didn't even question it with Rhys is such an amazing detail

Rhys had crowned me at each and every meeting and function we’d had, long before I was his mate, long before I was his High Lady. Even Under the Mountain.

Always his queen

And as Rhys appeared at the top of the stairs, resplendent in that black jacket. Now striding down the town house stairs, Rhys’s attention went right to that crown atop my head. And the emotion that rippled across his face was enough to make even Mor and Cassian look away.

PLEASE GIVE ME A FEYSAND WEDDING SARAH, I KNOW RHYS WOULD SOB WHEN FEYRE WALKS DOWN THE AISLE

My crown was crafted of silver and diamond, all fashioned into swirls of stars and various phases of the moon. Its arching apex held aloft a crescent moon of solid diamond, flanked by two exploding stars.

I want that crown, it sounds amazing 😭

Rhys stepped off the stairs and took my hand. Night Triumphant— and the Stars Eternal.

NIGHT TRIUMPHANT AND THE STARS ETERNAL SLAPS

[sigridhawke]

some asks for crimson 💅 👁 🐙 📚

Thankyou for emojis from We need more snippet ask games !!

I love getting to talk about Crimson ahh this was a little hard to find specific snippets without dropping whole sections lmao. More under the cut but please enjoy!

💅 share a snippet showing a character embracing their lgbtqness

“I’m Abel, by the way.” The fox said with an outstretched hand. “Partner of Dancer and Bubo.”

“Nice to meet you.” She replied, taking his hand.

“Bubo is just adding you to the board,” with a pointed claw Abel gestured to a sizable chart hanging on the wall. Similar rounds of wood hung carved with the likeness of what she could only presume were who Isabela had described as the long term commitment group of the polycule, “it's a convenient way to keep track of who is here with who if we bring short term or recurring partners into the home.”

👁 share a snippet where the character is very visually engaged/a snippet with description

Far down the mountain was a beautiful tree. Seemingly out of place in comparison to the rest of the landscape, the leafless branches reached into the sky in two parts like multifingered hands.

On closer inspection she noticed it wasn’t a tree at all, it was antlers.

Half submerged in the snow the body of the long serpentine creature appeared to have become a part of the very slope itself. She couldn’t make out the head beneath the antlers, but following the line of his body she picked out a scaled back with two large spikes jutting out, and maybe three sets of legs. Furred to the elbow and black to the claw.

It seemed to go on forever, down over the edge of the mountain and splitting into what she could only assume was two tails trailing down to the sea.

At first she thought the creature was asleep, her heartbeat quickening with a spike of adrenaline and self preservation. But then she noticed the holes. The sections of bone. The cave-like structures burrowed into its body where wolves of all things sought shelter.

“What is that?” Her voice felt so weak through the thinner air.

Nikolai stopped a few steps ahead, turning back to follow her gaze.

Their tail flicked, a slight snarl curled upon their lip.

“A corpse.”

🐙share a snippet where the character is being a brat/smartass

The faun's longer goatlike tail flicked in mirth. One leg crossed over the other as he leaned forward, propping his arms across his knee and resting his chin in hand.

"You're a long way from home, Princess."

Her mind reeled trying to place his face in her memories.

"How did you...?"

"I didn't." The faun's grin widened. "You told me yourself just now. My name is Enfer, shadow to the Lord of Greater Ekatha. Kann here is the face, while I pull the strings." He raised a finger to his lip, and had he had both eyes she could have sworn he was winking. "But don't tell anyone that."

📚 share a snippet where the character is being academic/is in an academic setting/is showing off their knowledge

The libraries of Lunaria could not hold a candle to the grandeur that was the Aviary Archives. While she had no way of knowing yet how much of the library would be useful to her, it did not stop the sheer amount of awe and envy for the shelves upon shelves upon floors of books that seemed to stretch on forever.

The sight made her both homesick and hopeful that something buried here may hold an answer to what had been disrupted in the world.

A clacking of talons across the dark marble floors caught her ears as a masculine looking harpie draped in heavy scholar robes peeked out from behind a tall bookshelf cradling a collection of scrolls.

His feathered neck ruffled in that familiar way of a harpie in thought, before shaking the notion free. The bun of his silver hair miraculously held strong.

“Welcome. I understand you have been granted passage by our Queen. My name is Ibilis,” the owl said with near perfect pronunciation of common tongue and a deep bow of his long neck, “and this is my library.”

[amayadartan]

CHAPTER 2

Just when Amaya felt like she was going to pass out from lack of Oxygen from her chest being squeezed, she found herself in complete blackness but able to breathe.  Falling to her knees, she tried to look around but there was no light.  She could feel what felt like leaf litter under her hands and knees, but the air didn’t smell the same as where she’d been before.  It also made no sense that she had been in her tent, which had a canvas floor and had been setup in a clearing where all sticks and leaf litter had been removed.  There was no way she could have gotten out of the campsite area in the short amount of time that she felt trapped by the fog.

     Slowly,  her hands reached out around her, trying to determine if she was contained in anything.  They met only air, cool air.  Once more she got to her feet and took a couple of steps in each direction.  Again, there was nothing that impeded her way, only more air and the sounds of dried leaves and twigs crunching under her feet.  So, she was outside somewhere, but she still could not determine where.

     “You have got to be kidding me.”  An exasperated, deep, male voice said off to her left, making her spin in that direction quickly and almost lose her balance.

     “Who’s there?” Amaya called out.  She tried to sound self assured, but failed.  Not that she thought that she would have been too convincing anyway, she was lost, in the dark, in some unknown place, with no weapon, and she was short.  It was not like she was going to intimidate anyone.  Her head whipped from side to side causing her dark hair to fan out around her as she tried to see in the inky darkness that surrounded her.  “Where have you brought me?”

     “You fucking summoned me.  Are you telling me that in addition to landing us here that you didn’t pay enough attention to know who you were even calling on?” Now the voice seemed even more exasperated and anger was seeping in.

     “What do you mean I summoned you?  I cast a protection spell.  Not a summoning and transportation spell. You are mistaken.” Amaya bit back before she even had really thought about whether it was smart to be arguing with an unknown being, of unknown origin, of unknown size, of unknown power, and unknown true disposition.

     “Are you a complete idiot?” There was a heavy sigh after the question.  She could hear heavy footsteps coming nearer to her.  Since she could not tell one thing about her surroundings, she held her ground.  Whether this was a smart move or not would be determined in the next few moments, but for now it was all she could really do.

     “Listen, asshole.  I was trying to protect my crew on our expedition in the Himalayas.  The Shaman of the tribe that we were camped near said that the spirits of the mountains would not recognize my protective spells, so he gave me one that was from his people.  I’m sorry I’m not versed in all languages.  It was supposed to be protection, not whatever…THIS…is…” Amaya spit back at whoever it was that had gotten drug along with her.  Obviously not one of her own teammates, and he spoke too clear of English to be someone from the tribe they had been near.  Which meant he was someone else.  Or something else.  Wonderful.

     Dartan took in a deep breath through his nose and tried to quell the rising desire to snap the neck of the witch in front of him.  Mouthy bitch had invoked a binding spell that had them stuck together and had somehow also managed to damn them both to fucking Hell.  Well, now he thought it was called Imperium where they were, but fuck all if that meant any different.  Hell is Hell.  Modern witches could be dumb as fuck and think they knew far more than they did.  This one was about to end up on her ass if she didn’t watch that big ass mouth of hers.

     “Well, smartass, you have managed to bind yourself to a spectre and damn us both to Hell.  Congratulations, dumb fuck!”  Dartan slowly clapped in the darkness.  Being dead and immortal, he could see in the dark which amused him since the witch couldn’t and she was stumbling around like a new foal.  “And you did  it in the middle of the night on a new moon. Sucks for you that you don’t have night vision.”  There was so much sarcasm in his voice that his disdain for Amaya could not be missed.  Nor could his building intolerance for her ignorance that put them in their current situation.

     “I’m sorry, did you say BIND?” Amaya had to have heard him wrong.  There was no way that a protection spell could end up as a binding spell with an incorporeal spirit, let alone teleport them to another realm or reality.

     “Are you partially deaf as well as ignorant as fuck?” He had no reason to be polite at this point.  Not with the trouble that she was going to cause him.  How this fuck up of hers could be fixed was something that he was going to have to figure out and it wasn’t something that he thought was going to be easy.  Cleaning up others’ fuck ups normally wasn’t.

     “No.”  Her answer dripped with venom as she’d finally triangulated approximately where he was based on his voice and was facing in that direction.  Obviously whoever was there wasn’t going to do her imminent harm, so Amaya was still being confrontational.  Self preservation would kick in if anything changed.  “It was a fucking protection spell you smug ass.  I did it perfectly.  I practiced for hours.  I should not be bound to anything and have not ended up anywhere other than in my tent unless I was lied to.  And how would I have known that was going to happen?” 

     “Have a brain.”  Dartan’s response was flat and he sounded bored.  He wasn’t, he was just trying to keep from summoning the power to affect the physical world and strangling her.  Then they’d both be spectres and that meant that neither of them would have a corporeal body.  Sometimes it was better for at least one of you to be living, and for the time being that was the dumb ass witch in front of him.  “You were on the land of people you didn’t know, and couldn’t speak their language, yet you didn’t think you might be offending them, little witch?  It never occurred to you that they might use the first opportunity to get rid of you?  Or did you just think that they’d be so grateful that modern people were around that they’d worship you?” He was going to enjoy pushing her buttons since she had damned him to this existence of being tied to her.  At least she wasn’t too bad to look at till they figured out how to fix this shit.

     Amaya was so mad and frustrated she wanted to cry, but she also didn’t want to look weak in front of whoever it was that was being the asshole.  “No, and we weren’t the first to visit the tribe.  There was a research group before us that had to leave due to weather.  They told us that the tribe was friendly and helpful.  We were advised what the tribe wanted and needed so we could take it with us as gifts for their help.”  She sighed as her head pivoted in the pitch blackness, wishing she could see anything.  She’d gotten into some messes before, but nothing like this. Never like this.

     “Maybe they didn’t think you were as friendly, or like what you were doing.  Someone really should have had a long talk with them, especially before you went taking spells from them.”  Dartan sounded like a reproachful parent, chuckling a little as he moved closer.  “Now you have both of us in quite a predicament.  This isn’t going to have an easy solution, little witch.”

     “My name is Amaya, so you know who you degrading.” She stated flatly, tired of fighting.  “And how do you know what the situation is?  You’ve been stuck in it as long as I have and I have no clue what it is.”

     “Because I’ve been dead longer than you’ve been alive, this isn’t the first time I’ve been bound to someone, I’ve been to this realm before, and being dead has some advantages when it comes to knowing what is going on, little witch.” Dartan heavily enunciated the last two words to dig them in harder.  “You can call me Dartan, and I suggest ONLY calling me that.” There was a menacing undertone to his voice.  The more he was finding out about how clueless this female was, the more he was sure that he was going to be stuck here and with her till her death.  Given the current location, it shouldn’t be long.

     “Fine, Dartan, since you’ve been here before, how do we get out of here?”  Even though she was standing in what seemed to be absolute blackness to her, she crossed her arms over her chest, having a feeling that he could see her since he was moving around easily enough. 

     “Since I don’t know how you got us both cursed here, it’s hard to tell.” He was circling her.  It was clear she had no night vision at all and didn’t know how to cast it from the way that she was acting.  She was human, at least she looked human.  For her to have so fallen prey to a trick that damned them both there, most likely a mortal human as well.  “You said that you have the spell memorized?”  A thought occurred to Dartan as he watched her.

     “I told you I practiced it for hours.  Of course I have it memorized.”  Amaya sighed and shifted position, clearly frustrated and annoyed.  This was not her fault.  She hadn’t planned this, she’d been tricked.

     “Then show me your movements and recite the words without invocation.”  Dartan made himself visible to her and moved towards her slowly.  “Do you think you can do that without fucking it up?”

     Seeing him appear startled Amaya and she took a step back.  He wasn’t a small man, and he was certainly intimidating looking.  At least a foot taller than her, broad shoulders, Persian features, his eyes and hair were dark, but complexion was hard to ascertain the way he was visible in the complete blackness of the night.   “I’ll do my best.” Her reply was curt, but not overly hostile as he continued to come closer.  Since he might be the best shot that either of them had of getting out of the situation anytime soon, she might as well try not antagonizing him.

     “That would be helpful.  Show me whenever you’re ready.”  Dartan stopped a few feet from her and waited.  He hoped that whatever language she used that he would recognize it and have some clue how they were bound and cursed.  At least then he might have some idea how to undo it and get back to where he’d been rather enjoying his afterlife before it was so rudely interrupted.

     Amaya took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  Concentrating on everything she had studied and practiced, she began the recitation again with the enunciation that she had perfected and the movements of hands and body that were supposed to have granted safety and security, but had instead landed her in this foreign realm with the hostile stranger.  During the entire process she did not rush and was fully focussed on making sure she did it perfectly, save for the invocation.  Doing that again might have consequences that she didn’t even want to consider.  Once she was done, she stood still and opened her eyes to look to where Dartan was still visible.  “Any idea how whatever spell that was delivered us here, bound to one another?”

     At first, she hadn’t thought he was going to answer.  He had just stood there with one arm across his broad chest, hand holding the elbow of the other as he propped his chin up thinking.  “I know exactly what you’ve done.  It’s undoing it that I have no idea how to do.”

     “And that means?”

     “We’re not just bound, we’re married.”

[ass-blasting-bitchaloid]

BATTLE ROYABB 2023 PROFILE - FRIGID TEAM

Information under cut...

BARB

Origin: Unknown

Species: Human?

Pronouns: She/They

Abilities: Flight, Extreme Endurance, Extreme Stealth, Cryokinesis

Fighting Style: Barb, despite the worrying efficiency at which she can incapacitate an opponent-- even from a distance-- is a pacifist and will try to talk things out if she can. Alternatively, she’ll simply leave the opponent in Gay Baby Ice Jail and walk away.

Associated Contestants: None

A magical girl who can invoke the power of urban legends. Barb is intelligent and extroverted-- but they’re also kind of a massive smartass, with a bit too much confidence in herself. However, they seem to be well aware of this, as they usually put a lot of thought and contemplation into everything they do. Hopefully that habit will come in handy...

GINNY

Origin: Counterverse

Species: Dark Counterpart (Gray-Yellow Base, Red Gradient)

Pronouns: She/They

Abilities: Deletion (dampened for Royabb regulations), Extreme Agility

Fighting Style: Ginny isn’t used to doing much in a fight beyond “delete the opponent or run”, so she hasn’t really established a style yet.

Associated Contestants: Malt Winehouse

An intimidating mountain hermit who assists lost hikers with finding the way back home; the dark counterpart to Malt. She’s very withdrawn and unsociable, but isn’t quick to anger in the slightest, and always tries to at least tolerate the people she interacts with. Ginny has various hobbies, and is familiar with taking advantage of natural resources; maybe she’ll have an advantage here?

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Rings of Flames. Ch 9: Where?

 Flooyd moved uncomfortably in his chair, his arms and legs were tied up. A sweat ran down his face. “So-” before the red haired male can say anything. Zoot stopped him. 

“Where did they take Teeth!?” yelled the dark blue haired male with anger all over his face. His green eyes look deep in Flooyd’s pitch black void of eyes. The saxophonist wasn’t happy with the moopet. 

“Why should I tell you?” replied the red haired male with a smartass tone. The saxophonist’s eye twitch. 

“Janice, get my gun” said Zoot in a voice that sent a chill down the blonde female’s spine. 

“Zoot, maybe we should try asking more questions to get through his shell?” replied Janice with a nervous smile on her face. Sweat ran down her face. She never seen the dark blue haired male this mad before in her life ever. 

“Janice. Get. My. Gun.” replied the saxophonist. Janice quickly went upstairs and headed into Zoot’s bedroom. She grabbed his shotgun that was in his closet behind his saxophone case. The blonde female carried the gun down stairs with care. Janice hands the shotgun to Zoot. 

He points the gun at Flooyd. “Now. Are you going to speak?” asked the dark blue haired male. The red haired male gulped with fear. 

“Alright, alright! I will tell!” replied the moopet. Zoot lowered the gun  and set it on the table. Flooyd took a deep breath before speaking. 

“They took him to a secret fighting ring! Our boss runs a wereanimal market!” said the red haired male. The band gasps in horror. A wereanimal market is the worst thing ever for a wereanimal to be at. It was a hell hole! 

“Where is this fighting ring?” replied Zoot. 

“It is up in the mountains,” replied Flooyd. 

“You only can get in if you’re with a member of the workers there,” he added. The dark haired male thinks a bit.

“We need to save Teeth even if it means to bring this idiot” the saxophonist thought to himself. He groans. 

“Alright,” said Zoot. The dark blue haired male turns to the band. 

“Floyd packs some first aid kits and food. Animal and Lips guard Flooyd. Janice, you and me will pack some clothes for us, especially some for Teeth” said the saxophonist. The band nods before doing the jobs they were assigned to. 

Floyd went to the kitchen and grabbed the cooler under the sink. He packs some drinks with ice. The red haired male takes out an old cloth bag and starts to pack some food in the bag. He packs chips, bars, some leftovers, etc. 

Meanwhile, Zoot was in Dr. Teeth’s bedroom. He got a suitcase out and started to pack it. The dark blue haired male packs some t-shirt and blue jeans for the doc. The saxophonist grabbed some boxers for him too. He took the suitcase outside of the bedroom and set it on the floor. 

Zoot heads to his bedroom to pack some clothes for him. The saxophonist packs some hoodies and sweatpants. After he packs his things, he walks out of his bedroom. The dark haired male picks up Teeth’s suitcase and takes it down stairs. Zoot takes the suitcases outside to the van. He placed the suitcases in the back of the van. 

Janice came outside with some suitcases stacked on top of each other. She placed the cases in the back of the van as well. “Got them all,” said the blonde female. 

“Good,” replied Zoot as he shut the back door of the van. The two head back inside. On the table next to the shotgun, a red cooler and an old cloth bag filled with food sat there. Animal and Lips were standing on both sides of the red haired male. 

They weren't going to let Flooyd out of their sight. “Everyone ready?” asked the saxophonist. 

“Yep!” replied the band. 

“Good. Now let’s go before it is too late” replied Zoot before he headed to the van. He hopped into the seat next to the driver seat. Floyd walked out and got into the driver seat. Animal and Lips bring the moopet outside and throw him into the van. 

“Ouch!” yelled the red haired male. “Watch it!” he growled at the two. The drummer growls at Flooyd which shuts him up. The blonde male went to one side of the van and got in, sitting next to the moopet. The wild man got in on the other side of Flooyd. 

Janice walks outside with the food and drinks. She puts away Zoot's gun, she places it back in his closet. The blonde female didn’t want the gun to be out when no one was home. Janice got in the van and set the things next to her. 

“Alright. Let’s start going” said teh dark blue haired male. Floyd Pepper started to van and pulled out the driveway. They were off to save their band leader. 

Meanwhile in the mountains, Lops and Zot got done unloading Dr. Teeth from the trailer. They put him inside of a large cage. The chains that were on him were removed after they set the sleeping feline inside the cage. 

Janooce walks up to the two. “Where is Flooyd?” she asked. The two froze. 

“Flooyd? He…He was with us” replied Lops as he scratched the back of his head. 

“Yeah” replied Zot with a huff. 

“You two don’t have a clue what happened to him, do you?” replied the black haired female with a scowl on her face. 

“Yeah” replied the two in a sad tone. 

“Great! How are we going to tell Tooth!?” replied Janooce as she placed her hand on her face. She has short black hair. Her pale greenish mint color eyelids shine in the light a bit. Janooce was wearing a purple shiny tank top with black leggings. 

Her silver color hoop earrings move a bit as she stands there thinking on how to tell their leader about Flooyd being missing. Janooce have a lip piercing that was just a small silver color hoop. She stomps her black platform boots against the floor. 

“Maybe we could lie and say Flooyd has a plan and is doing that plan” suggests Lops as he holds his finger up. 

“Maybe. Tooth is not the brightest box of rocks” replied Zot. 

“I agree,” replied the black haired female. “So, a plan?” she added with an evil smirk on her face. The three let out evil laughs before walking away to head to their boss' office. 

Hours later, Dr. Teeth woke up. The wereblood got up and popped a few bones. He stretched and looked. The Cheshire smilodon noticed he wasn’t in the backyard at the band’s home. The area around him was dark and had the smell of death in the air. 

The ground outside the cage has rotten meat and mud everywhere. There were trucks with trailers everywhere. The feline felt the coldness of the metal cage. He felt his heart starting to beat fast. Something in his gut told him that he was in danger. Teeth start to hit his body against the cage to try to break out. 

The wereblood roars as he tries to break out of his cage. He grabbed the bars of the cage and started to put pressure on the metal bars. The bars started to bend and crack as the cheshire smilodon kept going. Before the bars could fully break, a sound of a gun filled the air. 

Dr. Teeth felt his eyelids getting heavy and his body fell to the ground of his cage. On his back was a tranquilizer dart. 

Tooth blows smoke out of  the barrel of the tranquilizer gun. A smirk was on his face. He walked over to the cage. His spike boots digging into the mud and rotting meat. Dr. Tooth’s long dark ginger hair blows a bit as he walks. The dark ginger haired male raises a light brown fluffy eyebrow at the now sleeping wereblood. 

“Not so fast, kitty,” said Dr. Tooth with an evil laugh. He has a gold tooth like Dr. Teeth. His black eyelids shine in the light, three black eyeliner spikes sit under his eyes. Tooth ran a hand through his long beard. He placed the gun back in the pocket for it on his leather jacket. 

[alizjay]

I'm an opinionated smartass who demands to be heard.

Confident in all I know with all my many words.

And according to the lady who carried and gave birth to me, I came out of the womb talking and I always loved to sing.

Laughter has always been inside my heart and soul. “I love to laugh” was my favorite song from the Mary Poppins score.

There has always been a peppy beat and rhythm in my brain. I have always been so fascinated by the sky and by the rain.

Sunrises & sunsets, rivers & trees…if I wasn't raised in church I would've bowed my knees…to the earth and grass and rolling hills and mountains up so high. I've always thought each tree and river had a story to unwind.

I would've been the girl who would dance around and talk to trees…and maybe even the ocean waves if I had seen them before age nineteen.

I love the feeling of dark rich soil under my feet and between my toes. I love to take deep breaths outside and feel the fresh air go up my nose.

I love music. I love nature. I love the music of birds singing and the sound of flowing water is so healing for my being.

I love to get excited about tiny little things. I love to snuggle newborn babies and listen to windchime bells ring.

I'm a badass warrior mama bear of my two beautiful kids and I'm a badass mama bear teacher who won't be intimidated by that or this!

I love all people who are willing to be honest about their mistakes & flaws. If humankind knew how to be honest and loving, there would be no need for prisons and laws.

I despise tradition. I abhor hypocrisy. And I feel so intensely that it sometimes feels like it'll soon be the death of me.

So there you have it, everybody. This is me. Take it or leave it.