#'but he can't ride a pegasus!' well he gets a horse then. and then when he goes to fates he finds a pegasus

[honeydots]

i love olivia's flying dancer alt so obviously inigo needed an outfit too.....

[thelovelymissbigbadwolf]

Herc's Day Off

After months or even years postponing this, Hercules, the mighty hero of Olympus, finally could have a day to relax and do something he's been meaning to do with his full attention: to visit an old friend.

As he left the town with a simple bouquet of flowers in hand, he walked around the forest, the calm air, the lively animals, all seemed almost too calm even, knowing how Hades could be. But if there weren't any sightings of Heartless, why not take the opportunity?

He walked past the forest and climbed a mountain, all the while, Pegasus followed him, as if offering him help, but he refused it. It was something he had to do on his own.

Upon arriving at the mountain top, there it was a lone blade stuck to the ground, with a helmet on top of its hilt. The marked tomb of a fallen warrior. Hercules sat in front of the grave, taking a deep breath.

"Hey pal," he began. "It's me, Herc. I know I haven't visited in a long time like I used to, to just sit and talk to you. I know I come as often as I can, but... I can't help but feel like... You're lonely sometimes."

To this day, it still felt odd to him to do this.

"Remember when we were teens? Begging Phil to train us and all that... At that time, we both wanted to be heroes. We both had the same objective. In the beginning, I guess we could call ourselves full on rivals." He chuckled. "Both competing to see who would be trained by Phil. He made us fight against each other and I won."

There was not only nostalgia, but longing in his voice, as if he wanted to reach for the past, but knew he couldn't.

"At the time, I thought you would come up with some speech about how this wouldn't be the last time or something, but... You just laughed." The smile he beared slowly faded. "Laughed and congratulated me. You weren't upset by losing, at all. You were genuinely glad for me. You were always that honest... I guess that's why Phil chose to train us both."

He sniffed, taking a brief break to breath. He just got there, he didn't want to cry in front of his friend.

"We both... Worked hard. From sunrise to sunrise. And if one of us wasn't feeling so "heroic", we got each other's back..." He looked down. "Though it was usually you who had to help me when I was feeling like that, right? I always wondered... Why you were so positive about it. I think I asked you sometime right? Yeah... Yeah, I did. I remember your answer."

"If I got sad everytime I fell off the horse, then I would never learn how to ride a horse!"

"I didn't get it at first, but... I think I get it now. Being a hero is not just about doing heroic acts, it's not just about saving damsels in distress, hunting beasts or saving cities... It's about heart. About what's inside your heart."

He sighed, looking back at the helmet, so many battle marks not only on it, but in the sword as well. Hercules always made sure to at least check on both every now and then.

"I know that now, after knowing this kid named Sora. You'd like to meet him. Remember Ven? I thought of him the very moment I saw Sora." He had a big smile on his face, remembering the first time he met both. "Young, cheerful and friendly. They looked a lot alike, honestly."

He looked at the bouquet he brought, taking off the withered bouquet away in favor of the new one.

"But not only that, he reminded me of Terra and Aqua too." He said excitedly as he told his old friend of Sora. "He was strong like Terra. He was skilled at fighting against the Heartless, even more than Terra, honestly."

He put the bouquet in front of the grave, keeping the flowers in a dent there was there.

"He was skilled at magic too, like Aqua. He knew how to link his magics in a way I didn't even seen her do it." He sat back, looking at the grave.

He could almost see his friend there, supporting his weight against his sword. Bright and comforting was his smile, it matched his blue eyes. His black hair flowing against the wind. Guilt running down Herc's back.

"But... Honestly..." He took a deep breath. "Whenever I looked at him, I could only think of you. He too helped me up when I was at the bottom. He too helped me protect the people I love. And later I learned that, like you... He too sacrificed for the people he cared." His voice breaking.

He couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't just about missing his old friend, but missing his companion. The one who was always there by his side as Hercules became a hero with him. And in the end, only Hercules prevailed.

"I wonder if... You'll meet him someday. If you do, please, tell him my regards... I think he was even younger than you when he sacrificed." He wiped his tears off.

He put his hand on his heart, finding difficult to muster what he wanted to say.

"I remember that day all too clear. It was... A few years after we met Terra, Aqua and Ven. The Heartless started roaming around and... There was this strong and nimble Heartless." He could vividly remember that day. "We were both fighting it, with all we've got, but... The key difference between you and me was always that you were faster than me. And like so, I wouldn't be able to dodged that attack. I wouldn't be able to protect myself in time. I wouldn't be able to save myself..." His voice broke again.

He was breathless for a moment, feeling his heartache at the sheer memory of that day.

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here. You put yourself in front of me and took the attack instead of me..." He whispered. "Your heart was taken from you, right in front of me."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Trying to remember his friend's help from the times he felt like that in the past.

"I confronted Hades about it, I was ready to fight him for it, but... He said it was 'out of his control' or something..." He said frustrated, sighing. "I know now that he was right for an extent. He really didn't had control of what happened to you after you became a Heartless, and thus, he didn't know what would be of you..."

He looked at the sword and helmet, tears falling down his face. "You were a true hero, Zack. All the way through... Until your death." He stood up, knowing he had to go back soon. "I'm... Sorry for the short visit... I talked with Phil about making some sort of memorial for you and he wanted to talk about it with me..." He sighed. "I wish more people recognized what you did. You... Deserve better."

He was startled for a moment, feeling a strong hand in his shoulder, as he looked around, he couldn't see anyone there. He chuckled.

"I'll see you again someday, pal. I'll bring Meg along, so you can meet her. Okay?... See you another day, hero."

Hercules turned around and left back to the town, the sky looked incredibly beautiful that day, no clouds and no signs of rain. Herc knew it must be his doing.

[cloudninetonine]

No because imagine this goose/horse hybrid player head and wings of a goose the body of a horse just terrorizing the yiga sounds hilarious. So now I have to know how would the chain react to the player turning into what is basically a Pegasus with a goose head and hissing at them.

Horse was chosen since who doesn’t like steeds and I gauretee the Bois would want to ride gorse player around the sky

Even better gorse player meeting sky’s friend groose

AAAAAAAAAAAAA HONEY NO BECAUSE NOW I CAN IMAGINE A FUCKING MASSIVE HORSE (Shire horse is my go to with this) WITH A FUCKING GOOSE HEAD JUST RUNNING FULL SPEED AT A COUPLE OF YIGA HONKING AND HISSING.

Everyone is allowed to ride atop their back, even Legend, but one false move, word, anything- he gets bucked straight off. Also you know how geese can turn their heads around quite far?

Legend: You're not so bad when you can't talk-

The Player, turning their head 180 degrees to look at him directly in the eyes: *Honk*

Legend: Never mind this is thousands of times worse

But also, have you seen how swans hug???

This but Goose!Player with Hyrule, Wild and Wind.

GOOSE PLAYER MEETING GROOSE.

Groose: Is think another animal from the surface, Link?

Sky: Well, yes but you see, my friend actually turned into it- it's called a Goose! But my friend's name is (Name) *Holds out Goose!Player* Why don't you hold them? They're very friendly! :D

The Player, remembering how much of a bully Groose used to be: *Menacing honk*

Groose:....I don't think this is a good idea-

Also Capybara Player being the chilliest thing in existence. The Chain? Chilling. Bokoblins? Chilling. Stalfos? Chilling. On the back of Epona? Chilling.

Also just this video because I love it and you all need to see it

[bookwyrminspiration]

My cousin is in middle school and she's currently obsessed with KOTLC (thanks to me) but now she's done with it, and since I recommended it to her, she's asked me for more recommendations. And I am just blank. I mostly read Y/A stuff now (which I don't think a 12 year old should read) and I can't remember any good middle grade fantasy series/ books besides the ones she's read (Harry Potter, Rick Riordan's series, Wings of Fire, LOTR, Chronicles of Narnia) Please help! She keeps pestering me!

Oo Nonsie I have read so many middle grade books, I'd love to help!! I'm gonna list a bunch with quick summaries so you can pick recommendations that you think would be best suited based on your counsin's interests, as I don't personally know her.

The Pegasus Series by Kate O'Hearn: The first book (of six) is The Flame of Olympus, where young Emily is trying to get over the loss of her mother when her world is turned upside down as Pegasus, the winged horse from the myths, crashes on her roof. It turns out he has a mission, and now that he's injured she has to help him complete it to save Olympus. It turns out the Roman Gods are real and his quest is what will save them from ruin. This world also has another series called Titans set after the events of the first series, but I haven't read it yet. I believe her Valkyrie Series is disconnected from the Pegasus world, however, though I haven't read it.

The Companions Quartet by Julia Golding: The first book (of four) is Secret of the Sirens, where Connie discovers that magical creatures exist and that there is a secret society that exists to protect them. Different people have different connections to specific magical species, but it turns out Connie has an invaluable talent, rare and dangerous. But it might be just what's needed to fight against the growing threat to the society.

The Land of Stories by Chris Colfer: The first book (of six) is The Wishing Spell, where two twins, Alex and Connor, find themselves falling into a magic world of fairytales where all the stories they've read about--Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, etc.--are true. Their story follows them through all these encounters with the stories they grew up loving as they try to find their way home. This author has other books as well that are connected to TLOS series I believe, but I haven't read all of them yet.

The Magisterium Series by Cassandra Clare and Holly Black: The first book (of five) is The Iron Trial, where Callum (Call) gets an invitation to The Magisterium, a school for mages. He's hesitant about going, however, as he knows how dangerous magic can be. He decides to intentionally flop the entrance exam, but for some reason ends up getting accepted despite all his efforts otherwise. While trying to get through a year so he can put magic behind him forever, a mysterious enemy is growing and he finds himself in the middle of the conflict as he learns something about himself he has to keep secret.

The Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins: The first book (of five) is Gregor the Overlander, where Gregor discovers a whole other world underground when his little sister, Boots, falls through an open grate in the laundry room. The underland is full of creatures like rats and roaches and bats, but they're all enormous and human sized and intelligent. While down there, Gregor learns of a prophecy that apparently is about him and his sister, two Overlanders. He's doubtful, but when it turns out it could relate to his missing father, they embark on the quest to try and fulfill the prophecy alongside a few friends they've met.

I think these are all middle grade, but I have never once in my life paid attention to age recommendations when reading a book. It's always confused me how books are associated with an age when all people of that age are different in terms of interest and maturity and will inevitably not apply to everyone.

There are undoubtedly many more great fantasy middle grade series, these are just some of the ones I specifically remember enjoying when I was in middle school! Hopefully that's helpful, but I'm sure I could think of more recommendations if needed <33

[digimonloving]

Platonic pegasusmon with a male equestrian reader that tacks him up in black english horse tack snd rides him around doing dressage and other show horse events

Pegasusmon with male reader - Platonic show horse riding

It may be a bit difficult to explain his wings, unless it's with a group of friends and they understand exactly what Pegasusmon is, and that, no, he isn't just a regular horse or Pegasus. Maybe making an excuse it's all a costume is your best bet, considering his armor and the like are pretty tough to pass as regular horse attire

The black tack mixes incredibly well with his golden armor and tone. Even he can't deny it looks rather good on him. While slightly not used to it at first, he grows accustomed to it quickly without too much fuss and looks forward to when you place it upon his body. He likes to admire himself when he gets a chance, but is always by your side and focused moments after

He does prefer to fly rather than actually run, but that doesn't mean he isn't as fast when running. He picks up the pace if a challenge is silently presented, and always out-speeds any who try to take him on with you on his back

He does his best and listens to commands and anything else that is required, acting like a perfect horse aside from his strange looks and armor.

Pegasusmon really does enjoy the shows and does them for fun with you. He's humble, and so never takes things too far, mainly when talking with you about how they went. He's rather excited by them and can't wait till the next one comes and he gets to present himself even more.

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Firelight

Gerlion Rated T and up for minor swearing and minor nudity.

Also, I'm sorry I'm bad at technology and I've only got mobile and they updated it and I dont know/can't figure out how to put a read more break in.

Geralt and Dandelion reunite after a long time apart. Its fluff, complete fluff. They're so soft with one another.

This lovely piece was inspired by art created by @johix with permission I'll figure out how to link it. But I recommend checking out all the art.

It had been nearly nine months since he last saw his bard. It wasn't unusual for their paths to cross and diverge like the threads of a tapestry twinning around one another; close but never consistantly together. Dandelion was often called away to court, to Oxenfurt, or some festivity or other and he always went where he was wanted. Geralt never stopped him; though he often wanted to reach out, grab a slender and deceivingly muscled arm and say, "stay you're wanted here more than they want you anywhere else." But his lips stayed stubbornly shut as he watched the blond ride away on his muleish stead. He would turn his back and tend to the nearest contracts he could find. At first he'd been glad for the others departures, now they left him aching in a way he feared to define. So he would focus on his work, on the Path and push all thoughts of the Bard away until he was alone with inky night and moonlight for company. Then and only then he would wonder what his friend was doing.

This year he had been eager to get back on the path and left the keep far to early. The others had warned him but he was restless, concerned even. He hadn't heard anything from the bard in the three months leading into winter. It was May now. Summer had yet to grace the continent and snow continued to stick stubbornly to her. He hadn't made it to town, and that was okay. He was freezing but he'd dealt with worse. He stoked the fire up and leaned against the tree behind him. He flexed his fingers in his gloves to keep them from growing stiff.

He knows he should have found a cave or some other shelter but he'd been loath to leave the road. The more time he spent on it the more likely he was to run into Dandelion. Instead he began to meditate and wrinkled his nose at the scent of rain permeating the air. He hoped it would hold off until the morrow. He didn't mind rain when he didn't need to be out in the path. Meaning, he liked the rain if he was cooped up in an inn with Dandelion. He always tried to keep him from getting sick, despite the need to be on the oath. But tonight he wasn't in an inn with Dandelion. He was in forest clearing bustled against a dry spot beneath a tree with snow and ice all around him. The thought of being at a warm inn with his musician made his chest ache desperately. Slowly he managed to meditate. Meditation turned to sleep as soon as he chose to lie down in his bed roll. Roach shifted to his left to keep herself warm but never went far.

 

He woke cold and stiff to blue grey light. If he were a normal human and not so fucking cold he'd have probably rolled over and gone back to sleep. But instead he was a witcher and rain scented heavier on the air. That alone is enough to incline him to get a move on with the day. Carefully he stood rolling his joints, they cracked and popped at the movement sore from the last hunt and the cold. He breathed through his nose and set about feeding Roach. Then he turned to begin gathering his supplies. His heart jumped in his chest at the sound of distant music. There was a troupe, if the noise was anything to go by, traveling up the road. They were a ways off and he couldn't make out individual instruments yet. The music was to far away. Still, he forced himself to slow and methodically work through packing everything up at a more subdued pace. He had no way of knowing if Dandelion was with them, but he hoped he was. It was safer for the trabedour to travel with a group and more to his and the bards liking as well.

Satisfied that the group would catch up if he kept Roach to a walk he rejoined the road. This way he would be far enough ahead not to bother them, and close enough that if Dandelion was with them he'd be able to see him. He kept Roach at a careful pace and she seemed content to meander. His coin purse was currently full at his side, and the season was early. He could dally a little. Still he wondered at the futility. It would have been better to write to Oxenfurt or go himself. They would know where to find the poet. He listened as the music drew closer. There were several lutist. Which he could say wasn't uncommon as it was one of the preferred bardic instruments. He strained his ears none the less, Toruviels lute had a specific sound and he was well aquanited with it. He smiled and forced himself not to turn back towards the musicians. He was a witcher, he'd scare them off. He slowed Roach as much as possible. And then he heard it, the stutter of a chord gone off tune and forgotten. They way it would if he complimented the musician while he was playing. He always made the best faces.

"Geralt." He kept Roach moving, gripping the reigns hard in anticipation. Then he heard the murmurs of surprise as Dandelion ran ahead and called out,

"Geralt of Rivia, you gigantic oaf, I know you can hear me!" The indignant tone of Dandelions voice pulled him over the edge of his little game and he stopped. His heart beating a little faster, a little stronger than it ought, as it always did around the poet. He dismounted his horse and held out one hand to give or receive a hug. Something he was growing accustomed to doing with Dandelion. The bard rushed forward unabashed and wrapped his arms, one hand still holding his lute firmly, around Geralt and squeezing with all his strength. Geralt returned the favor, one armed, the other still outstretched to hold Roaches reigns.

The hug lasted longer than it ought to have, and then some. When they finally came apart Geralt raised an eyebrow and absently reached a hand out to brush shoulder length blond curls. He smiled softly amusement curling in his stomach with something far more dangerous.

"What are these?"

"Curls Geralt. You've seen them before."

Dandelion notes with brightness in his eyes. Geralt is being very tender he thinks as he flicks his eyes to the hand still in his hair.

"I know. But I've never seen them on you before. Nobles. Whores. The like."

Geralt says simply and something like sadness tugs at Dandelions heart. He was prepared with a quip but it slips from his tongue and instead he whispers out a breathy,

"You don't like it."

He looks to the ground, body language changing. Geralt smells the acrid scent of disappointment on him almost instantly. Even if he hadn't he'd have realized his mistake. He brushes his hand down and catches the lutists chin pushing it up and then dropping his hand to his shoulder. They have an audience.

"That's not what I said, nor is it what I meant, Dandelion. Introduce us?"

The poets meets his eyes and blinks. Right. Okay. He smiles,

"There isn't much to be said in introduction. I only met this lovely group last night. I don't even know all their names yet."

A short brunette in bright colors hands him his geldings reigns. They know he won't be continuing with them.

The brunette nods to Geralt and speaks softly,

"It was a pleasure to play music with you master Dandelion."

And with that the group turns down the path to the right. Geralt must have worked hard to time it so he'd be seen before they had a chance to turn down the other path. Though Dandelion would not have gone that way anyways.

Geralt looks him up and down again and and he flushes under the scrutiny and then speaks through a genuine smile.

"What is that on your face?"

He nearly reaches up to brush his hands against the white beard. He refrains barely as Geralt does it himself. He's fairly certain the man had forgotten all about it.

"Left the keep early this year. It's warmer like this."

Then he watches Geralt glare at the sky and take a deep breath.

"You'll want to put that in it's case. Smells like rain."

Dandelion moves quickly to follow his instruction and nearly jumps when thunder claps across the mountain range. He shivers and mounts Pegasus.

"Where to?"

Gerlat hesitates a moment. He shouldn't be caught off gaurde but he is. It's always this easy with Dandelion. Easy in a way it has never been with Yennefer, or with anyone else. It's natural almost to the point of being dangerous. He knows that Dandelions will follow him anywhere. Hen wont ask questions, but will walk beside him loyal and true.It eases something in his heart to see the other man beside him again. He settles something in him the way Yennefer never did. He realizes Dandelion is looking at him with raised eyebrows and a cheeky grin.

"That glad to see me?"

He swallows and clears his throat ignoring the second question.

"There is a village up ahead. If you're mule moves fast enough we may make it before the rain gets bad."

Dandelion laughs and the remnants of tension in him depart. They ride in companionable silence for a while before he asks,

"What are you doing all the way out here? The roads and weather are hardly fit for traveling, even for me."

He glances over and meets pools of bright blue sky. The poet is quiet for some time and it's only broken by the wind picking up around them and whispering through the woods as boughs bend beneath its force. The rain comes next and Dandelion finally speaks. Geralt remains facing forward carefully neutral.

"I hadn't heard anything about you in months. I had no idea if you even made it to Kaer Morhen. So, I thought to myself, Dandelion if you get closer to the keep you might hear something. Now, here I am hoping to find out if you're still alive. Figured being close would increase my chances of running into you too. And I suppose it worked."

He seems almost embarrassed Geralt thinks. Only embarrassment isn't an emotion he's ever seen on the musician. He was shameless and full of mirth. He felt deeply, certainly had had bouts of sorrow at times. But embarrassment… no this had to be something else. He seemed sombre. Almost sad as he fell into a silence that meant his thoughts had hold of him. Geralt shook his head, grateful when Dandelion did not ask him the same. Unfortunately he fell unusually quiet, normally he would grumble or speak his thoughts allowed. The silence upset him and he could sense the poet growing morose and gave him some space until he noted the bards teeth chattering. He looked miserable, lips pushed together to keep his teeth from chattering, curls gone limp with the rain. His fingers were probably just as cold as Geralts own. He slowed Roach.

"Wheres your cloak?"

" Forgot to pull it out of my bag."

He laughs. Gerlat could kick himself for not reminding the bard, but then, he was a grown man. Still the thought of him sick…. Absently he removed his outer cloak and handed it over. It wouldn't do to much now but it was a kind gesture none-the-less.

"Geralt, no sense in both of us being cold."

He simply cast Dandelion a withering glance and the trabedour smiled as he took the cloak. Geralt returned to his normal speed and missed the way Dandelion smiled into the fur and breathed deep. He almost missed the whispered "thank you" as well, but the wind carried it to his ears and he held it close.

By the time they passed through the archway of a sleepy little village he didn't know the name of, Dandelion was shivering from the cold. It had started as a thunderstorm and quickly devolved into a snowstorm. And while he had already been soaked through he was grateful for Gerlat's cloak around him. Though he was sorry too. He knew how cold Geralt often got, likely from having a slower heart rate.

They made their way with practiced ease to the local inn. Dandelion watched in slight awe as Geralt made arrangements with the matron. She had known his name, no one had so much as even batted an eye at the witcher. He shivered and tried to focus on keeping his feet warm.

The matron knew the witchers who passed this way every spring and winter. She'd been quiet young when Geralt had first met her, now she was a mother who had aged kindly.

"I'll have the boys tend to your horses. Jason's getting a fire going for you. He'll bring up some more wood in a bit."

As if on queue, summoned by his name, he came around the corner of the desk and nodded at her before heading out the back door. She smiled and handed Geralt the key. "Go on go get warm before your friend catches a cold "

"Thank you."

He handed the key to Jaskier who moved quickly forgetting his bag in his rush to get himself and his lute dry. Geralt smiled a toothy grin and shook his head shifting his own bags to gather Dandelions.

"Oh dear, I had better ask, will you be going out for supper or shall I bring some up when it's ready?"

" If it wouldn't be any trouble. And maybe a demijohn?"

She winked,

"Vodka?"

"Please."

"No problem, off you go. He's waiting."

He would have blushed if his biology allowed it. There was something about the way she looked between them and spoke that made Geralt feel vulnerable.

He followed damp footprints to their room and stepped in the door left slightly ajar. Dandelion had already hung his cloak up and stripped out of his shirt and boots, and was currently putting his lute on the chair a good distance from the fire to draw out any moisture.

"Finally Geralt! I was half naked before I realized I forgot them. And the fire was so nice I couldn't bare to go back and get them. What kept you?"

He stepped back as the bard reached for his bags and started removing his armor. He shook his head,

"Supper arrangments." He says simply.

"Then were staying in?"

"Yes."

"Excellent!" He watches the musician swap a change of clothes for his night clothes.

Although he was fairly dry beneath his armor and cloak Geralt was freezing. He removed his boots and looked up only to freeze. Breath stilling in his lungs as he swallowed tightly. He followed bare leg, muscled and lean, from floor to hip, over the curve of the poets ass, over the dip of his back and up the curve of his shoulders. He let out a breath and pointedly averted his eyes. His armor needed cleaning, he was sure of it.

He hadn't thought it possible to make Geralt uncomfortable at this point. But what he'd seen out of the corner of his eye told him otherwise. Though he'd only caught him looking away. He could have looked for a moment, or minutes he'd never know. Slowly he dressed in his sleepwear. The fire had been nice against his skin and he hadn't wanted to dress damp. You got sick when you did that. He dried his hair out with a thin towel from his pack. He'd need to replace that. He made his way back over to Geralt as he pulled his shirt on.

"The fire is nice." He says gently as he sits beside him. Geralt looks up at him from his armor and nods. They stare at one another for a moment then Geralt speaks.

"You seemed upset earlier. Was it just the weather?"

Oh. He wants to lie but he would never. Besides, Geralt can read him like a book, never mind the enhanced witcher senses. He'd never stand a chance. Instead he looks away, towards the crackling fire and let's silence reign while he thinks through what he means to say. The truth but not all of it. Just enough. The only noise is the wind rustling the shutters against the walls and the gentle crackling of the fire.

"I wouldn't know." He starts voice gentle and far away. "If you died. I wouldn't know. And if I ever did find out it would be from some rumor in a tavern passed through far to many drunken mouths to hold much truth. There's no one to tell me if you die while I'm not there Geralt. And that… scares me a little. I worry for you and it would pain me to never know or to find out so late. And know that I'll never know the truth of what happened." He looks to the witcher now and meets molten sun with ocean depths.

"But," he continues, "we're both here now. No sense in dwelling on something like that."

Something shifts in Geralts face like he wants to argue. He's already working out some way to change the topic so he doesn't give himself away. He loves the man next to him that's why it scares him. The knock comes loudly from the door and he moves to open it grateful for the matrons timing.

He smiles and opens the door wide.

"Thank you." He says to both the matron and her husband as he drops wood near the hearth and she places supper and a flagon of something on the table.

"No problem. Enjoy, its roast." With that they leave them to their dinner and Dandelion is grateful for the distraction. Geralt joins him at the table but neither speaks.

Geralt presses his lips together. What Dandelion said nearly ruins his appetite. He won't press but it makes his gut twist to think of the pain his friend would be in. The agony of not knowing. Though those same thoughts run through his head when he doesn't keep them in check. He knows if anything happens to his poet there would be hell to pay. He shakes his head and focuses instead on eating. The quiet of the room is unsetteling. They should be talking, reminiscing about their time apart and it's almost grating that he can't move past the last conversation. But then Dandelion uncorks the vodka and pours them both a generous amount. He hands a cup to Geralt and raises his own.

"To reunions." Geralt smiles and clinks their glasses together. Grateful that they're falling into their rhythm.

Dandelion asks how the winter went and Geralt sighs. It's always the same. His brothers are great but he always find himself missing his poets softness and sound. He wont say this of course. He wont say he lays awake wondering what he's doing in Oxenfurt. Who hes with. If hes happy. He won't admit that loneliness creeps in on him when they're apart, that he misses pulling the bard close to his chest when they sleep.

Instead he tells him that they repaired the battlements, the walls, the stables. That Vesimir had made them clean and catalogue the library. The library he knows Dandelion wants to see and would have to be forcably removed from and he knows that the poets only joking when he says "you'll have to show me one day" but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to grab him by the wrist and take him there. He talks of training and running the trail with Lambert and Eskel like they did when they were young.

"And what of you Dandelion? How was your winter?" The musician smiles and takes a drink straight from the bottle.

"Boring Geralt. This bach of students don't care. They have no heart and less inspiration. It's like they're only there to please their parents or something. To mingle. They don't care about learning what the truth behind folk tales are or why they're wrong. The composition courses are a bit better I suppose," another drink, his face flushes pink in the flickering light of the fire," at least they can make things rhyme even if it's meaningless. And it was so lonely Geralt. I missed traveling. I know it's better for my purse, retirement, and the like to work straight in the winter and travel in the summer months but honestly, I regret it this winter. Not that I could have traveled much alone."

He's rambeling now and Geralt loves it. Loves listening to him talk about nothing and everything. The way his face goes soft and his eyes grow bright and he can only be described as whimsical. How his voice dances always lulling and pulling him in. He takes the vodka and drinks a long pull from the bottle, he shouldn't let Dandelion have much more if they want to start out early. Though if the storm keeps up they might be stuck a few days.

He acknowledges the ard with a soft hum as he gets up to stoke the fire and add a few logs. It's gotten late. He makes his way back towards the bed and brushes his hand down the poets shoulder and his arm before passing on. He crawls to the far side of the bed and waits wondering if he'll understand the invitation and join him or take the other bed. He hopes that the Dandelion understood the gesture. The poet stands and looks at him.

Dandelion takes a breath to steady himself. There are two beds and he desperately wants to join Geralt, help him stay warm, bury his face against his chest, breath in leather and earth and musk. He blinks looking at Geralt for any sign of what he's supposed to do and just as its growing uncomfortable long in his slightly tipsy mind Geralt reaches out and hand and he knows he's wanted.

"It's cold."

Geralt offers quietly as he shuffles under the blankets next to him. He needn't have bothered Dandelion doesn't need an excuse. But if it makes him feel more comfortable he'll roll with it even as it feel like lead on his chest. He rolls onto his side and buries his face into the blankets between them. The bed is small for two but they'll make it work, they always do. He watches as Geralt lounges beside him thinking about how beautiful he is with shadows dancing against his skin as hes bathed in firelight alone. Then Geralt sits up so abruptly and swallows so that Dandelion joins him instantly.

"Is everything alright Geralt?"

"Yes. Just. Don't move."

And he laughs gently, breath coming out calmer now. He catches the way Geralts throat bobs as he swallows and the shadows dance across his throat. He both wants to kiss it and compose about it. Instead he shifts a leg underneath himself and leaves the other outstretched. He's not sure what's going on but he will do as told. But then Geralt moves and lays his head in his lap and when he looks down comatose pools of cooling gold meet his own cobalt depths and his breath catches. He stutters in another one and then smiles fondly. Geralts eyes flutter shut and he can't help himself as he places a hand in white hair and runs his fingers through it. He's certain it's been months since he had physical contact that wasn't violent.

He doesn't hum or sing. This moment is precious. It will be locked in his heart, witnessed only by the firefight and remembered in the lonliest of winter nights. But then Geralt looks at him again so he smiles softly and starts to open his mouth but theres a hand in limp gold locks by his face and he stops. Heart rate picking up, but not in fear and distantly he knows Geralt knows the ways he's affecting him. But he makes no move to pull away even as the calloused hand in his hair moves up to cup the back of his head and pull him down. Instead he closes his eyes and smiles. The kiss is everything he imagined it would be and then some.

[imagine-lumpygrab]

Just realised that in the second episode she appears in LSP says she can drive a car, and that lemongrab has probably never ridden in a car and can't drive so... Imagine her giving him driving lessons and him giving her horse riding lessons.

Omygosh yes! Imagine them crashing the car and LSP grinning like “don’t worry I stole it from breakfast princess”

(Idk if you can tell but I hate breakfast princess so much)

Also I will forever believe that LSP drives that car with legs instead of wheels.

I’ve never driven a car but I’ve had a few horse riding lessons and my mom does horse racing for living and let me tell you, it is hard as heck! Because you’re not riding a bike or driving a car, you’re sitting on a sentient creature that is bigger and stronger and sometimes it decides that the leaf in the middle of your track is just too darn scary to avoid in a less than five mile radius, while you decide it’s just a friggin leaf, and this conflict then results in dancing back and forth on the track. Usually this ends with either the horse forgetting what was so scary and you continue on your way, or (and this is much more likely) you’ll end up having to get down from the horse and dispose of the life threatening object like an SCP Foundation agent.

This means that LSP, who’s equally as headstrong as these animals tend to be (lemon or not), would have to spend a lot of time with the horse, not just riding it, but also grooming it, feeding it, cleaning up in the stable... so the horse would get used to her. Imagine how she starts doing all this without Lemongrab really telling her to do it beforehand, and when he asks why she just went and started making a relationship with both the lemonpegasus and the lemoncamel (as well as any other additional animals in their stables), she smiles and tells him “Well I heard it’s about taking baby steps and building a relationship because the horse gets scared easily and I remembered how when I met you I had to do the same thing.”

Also now... there’s two people to ride the animals, and that means the camel and pegasus (who are the same ones since the creation of the first Lemongrab) can go on rides together again, for the first time since their previous owners disappearing. And Lemongrab can tell that they’re happy. It’s kinda like having two dogs and taking each of them on walks separately. I don’t know about camels but horses are used to living in herds and being alone makes them stressed and anxious. We have this one old grandma horse and mom was going away with the other two horses we had at the time to go race, and we had to get this really smol pony to keep the grandma horse company because she would get super stressed otherwise and in these kinds of situations horses can even kick down their door in frustration!

Imagine LSP and LG racing! And when LG flies up LSP straight up grabs the camel and flies up to them with the animal in her arms because she’ll be damned if her non-flying boyfriend outflexes her in flying

[iturbide]

#1 OR -- /OR/ -- #42 grima and emmeryn I NEED GRIMMERYN HANDHOLDIES AND I CAN'T CHOOSE HELP

@gunhorse​ you realize that if you ask me for my crack ship my answer is naturally going to be why not both? ;D

also you get sibling au because i know how you feel about it

Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Grima scowled as he stalked through the shadowed halls of Ylisstol Castle, adjusting the lay of his heavily ornamented gorget.  The collar was slightly too small, forcing him to stand with shoulders squared and back straight if he wanted to so much as breathe or speak (and some bitter part of him felt certain that it was intentional, a cruel ploy to ensure that his posture befit the king of Plegia).  He dreaded yet another afternoon spent among the Ylissean nobles with their haughty airs and ostentatious attire…but it might not be so insufferable if the Exalt attended again, for her presence seemed to keep the aristocrats on at least slightly better behavior than they were otherwise…

“Your Grace, you must let me escort you.”

He paused, tilting his head to catch the echoes of the unfamiliar voice.  He did not recognize the speaker, but the address was one he knew well–

“That’s quite alright.  I’ve no need of a chaperone.”

He did recognize that voice – but the tension hiding beneath the soft laughter set his nerves on edge.  

He was moving before he knew even what he intended to do, robes swirling around him as pursued the echoes of the conversation as it continued somewhere out of sight. 

“How can you say that, Your Grace?  Everyone knows that Plegian is not to be trusted.”

“He’s done nothing to deserve mistrust.”

“Your kindness knows no bounds.  But come now – you recall what happened with Dale and Morley, how he would have gutted them had you not stepped in…”

“He had no weapons, how could he have done such a thing?  And besides, his anger was justified, given the slurs they cast at him and his brother.”

“Harmless japes!”

“Cruel prejudices that paint Ylisse as a land where my father’s ways still hold sway.”

“Come now, don’t say that.  The halidom has seen marvelous changes under your reign.”

“And yet, its people still look on Plegia with fear and contempt.”

“Can you blame them?  Especially when their king bears the name of that wicked divine?  You know, my father told me once that your sire’s war was for Ylisse’s salvation: he heard that their fell god was reborn and endeavored to keep the world safe from the destruction sure to follow – where are you going, Your Grace?”

He could hear their movements now, the soft rustle of the Exalt’s gown on the stone floor, the sharp clack of heeled shoes…and as he rounded a corner into the next passage, he saw a man with red-gold hair clutching the woman’s hands, holding her near even as she attempted to pull away.  “My dear, please, you must allow me to protect you – that man cannot be trusted, but I swear I will keep you safe–”

“From who.”

Grima’s voice boomed through the passage.  The Ylisseans both looked up when his shadow fell over them, and for all that the stranger loomed over the Exalt, the Plegian king towered over them both – and he felt a smirk carve its way across his lips as the nobleman’s face paled in fear. 

But the Exalt herself did not hesitate, withdrawing her hands and stepping to Grima’s side.  “Well met, Your Majesty,” she smiled.

“Eavesdropping hardly seems befitting of a king,” the aristocrat huffed, attempting to recover himself – only to quail as Grima turned a cold stare on him. 

“It is no fault of mine if you raise your voice for others to overhear,” he growled, watching the man tremble for just a moment before turning to the Exalt.  “Do you plan to attend the noble gathering this afternoon?”

“Yes, I had,” she agreed. 

He bowed very slightly, offering his hand to her.  “Might I accompany you, Your Grace?”

“She has no need of your company,” the nobleman protested – and as he moved, Grima cast another sharp glare in his direction, cowing him once more.  

“I did not ask you.” 

He felt her fingers brush against his, and once more turned his attention on the Exalt.  “I would be pleased to accompany you,” she murmured.

“Then I will join Your Grace–”

“That’s quite alright,” she insisted, smiling at the nobleman.  “Please tell the court that we will arrive shortly.”

As the man drew breath to protest, Grima draped a silk sleeve over the Exalt’s shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.  Instead he merely bowed, his voice clipped as he forced the words out through clenched teeth.  “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Grima watched as the nobleman retreated from sight, narrowing his eyes each time the man cast a glance over his shoulder.  “Who was that man?” 

“Percival.  Son of the Earl of Wister, and second in line to inherit the title.”  Which meant very little to Grima, all told: Ylissean politics frustrated him with their pointless intricacy. 

“Are you familiar?” 

She glanced up at him, seeming puzzled by the words, and Grima struggled for the proper phrase…but before he could find it, her expression changed, a dim smile replacing her frown.  “The council believes that I should wed, for the sake of the halidom,” she murmured.  “He is their favored choice for consort.”

“And what are your thoughts on the matter?” 

“They have not asked.”

He drew a breath…and paused, holding his hand out to her.  She blinked up at him, hesitantly settling her fingers in his palm again…and he could feel her trembling as he folded his hands gently around hers.  “What say we delay a while,” he murmured.  “The weather is pleasant.  It would be a shame to waste the whole of the afternoon indoors.”

“You don’t care much for the court, do you?” she giggled. 

“As much as you do, I imagine,” he replied. 

Her laughter quieted as she looked up at him, the shaking of her fingers only growing more pronounced.  But he held them even so, letting the silence stretch and waiting for her answer. 

“…would you care to take a walk in the gardens?” she offered.  “They’re quite lovely at this time of year.”

He smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze.  “Lead the way, Your Grace.”

“Emmeryn,” she corrected, turning away from the hall the nobleman vanished down.  

He raised a brow, moving easily at her side through the bright sunlight.  “I doubt your council of nobles would take kindly to such a familiar address.”

She beamed at him, bright and soft as moonlight.  “They don’t take kindly to many things I do.  But that hasn’t stopped me before.”

Grima could not help smiling at that.  And as they retreated from the chill stone corridors and into the warmth of the palace gardens, she shifted her hand in his – not to break away, but to return his gentle grip with one of her own. 

Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

Though the noble court remained convinced that their Plegian guests could not be trusted, Emmeryn had grown quite fond of their company.  The king and his brother were good, kind people for anyone with eyes to see – and she was deeply pleased that her brother had realized that, vanishing with the Plegian prince most afternoons.  As for the king…despite his fearsome name and intimidating demeanor, he had proven himself a true gentleman in every sense of the word; even now, walking through the quiet corridors at her side, he listened intently when she spoke, and conversed with her rather than talking over her as so many of the noblemen did in the council and at court.

“So you were not taught to ride a pegasus?” he asked.  “I was led to believe that they were emblematic of Ylisse.  It seems odd that you would not be trained for it.”

“It was deemed too dangerous,” she sighed.  “I was given instruction in horseback riding, and even that was…cursory, at best.  It was mostly for the sake of ceremony, as best I can tell, and I rarely have an opportunity to make use of it.”

“Strange,” he muttered.  “I was given extensive training in wyvern riding.”

“Was the one you arrived on a personal mount?”

“…not exactly.  Black wyverns are considered blessed in Plegia and used exclusively by the Grimleal.  Given the…circumstances…” he muttered, lifting his right hand, “it was deemed appropriate that I have a mount of a suitable color.  I did not raise or train her myself, and have had few opportunities to bond with her, but she is responsive and easily handled.”

“Perhaps you should spend more time with her,” Emmeryn offered.  “Most pegasus knights don’t raise their mounts from birth – Phila certainly didn’t with hers – but that doesn’t change the bond between rider and mount.”

He glanced down at her, canting his head to one side as he grinned.  “Perhaps you would join me?”

“Could I?” she asked.  “She wouldn’t take poorly to a stranger?”

“Wyverns are handled by humans from the moment they hatch.  They all have their own personalities, of course, but they are not aggressive with humans and attack only when trained to respond to a command.  From my own experiences…I believe she will take to you with curiosity.”

“I would love to, then – though it might be best to wait for the weather to improve,” she suggested, muffling a giggle in her sleeve as she glanced out the rain-washed windows.

“…a fine point,” he conceded, following her gaze.  They quieted for a moment, watching the rivulets wind down the panes as they passed…and in the silence, she reached out to take his hand. 

He looked down at her, raising one brow in unspoken question – but she only smiled, continuing along at the same unhurried pace through the nearly deserted corridor.  “I know that your royal procession arrived on wyverns, but do Plegians raise horses, as well?” she asked. 

“…we do, though not in the same numbers,” he agreed, his fingers curling gently around her own.  “At least not in the desert, given that few areas can sustain them.  They are more common in the west, but the desert horses are rather interesting: they are much smaller than any of the Ylissean mounts I have seen…”

They paid no mind at all to the glances cast toward them. They gave one another their full attention, instead, and the conversation continued on, quiet as the rain washing over the palace windows as they walked hand in hand through the soft light.