#FOUGHT FOR MY LIFE TO FIND THIS!!!! (turns out it was on twitter)

[womansfilm]

Portrait of Deborah Kerr by Don Bachardy, 1961

[circuscrypt1d]

i said this on twitter but ill say it here too just because

i hate how silco was written

just bear with me

if silco and vander were friends with felicia, close friends at that, he was probably around when the girls were born. at LEAST, when vi was born. i mean felicia told them both at the same time, vander helped pick a name right in front of him, he agreed to help make zaun a better place for those girls.

and maybe he and vander had a fall out due to clashing interests in how to go about piltover (though i find this unlikely), but their real fight only happened after felicia died in the war at the bridge, as vander stated in his letter to silco. a letter which also implies that they could have gone back to being close (as they do in the powder timeline).

this all makes sense to believe that silco knew the girls, and helped raise them. however young they were, he was around. and despite his fight with vander, the powder timeline also tells us that he wasnt SO resentful that he would abandon them forever.

so why? WHY in hell did silco consider killing both vi and powder when he kidnapped vander?

he was okay with killing vi with his shimmer monster and all his other goons, and only wanted her as a weapon later. he considered killing powder with a knife when he found her near vander's body. he called her "little girl", as if he didnt know her. both her and vi knew about silco's abd vander's ex friendship. at least later on in life, they did. if they didnt they definitely would be more surprised by finding their stuff together and the letter.

still, s1 silco acts like he doesnt know the girls. considers killing them, or using them. as if jinx only grew on him later on and wasnt someone he already knew.

i feel as if the writers wanted to make a "big bad guy" out of him in s1, and didnt have the full scope of his moral compass and background in mind when doing it. he is inarguably made to be the villain, and they did it all to try and make him the worst possible, so that when he "turned out to actually love jinx and do things for her good" it would be more of a surprise to the audience.

except s2 breaks all of that. and its not to say i dont like his backstory, or him as a character. he was definitely one of my favorites since i first watched years ago, and i was so sad when he died. but if they intended on bringing him so close to vander, and at such a point in time too (because he could have been friends with vander BEFORE felicia, and then they had their fall out), why write him so detached in the first place?

not to mention, the reason why he and vander fought is left to interpretation for the most part. we have implications: that it was after the war; that they had conflicts of interest; that both of them were very shocked by felicia's death. and we also have others: that had he read the letter vander left him, they might have become friends again; that he wasnt SUCH a terrible person as to not forgive his closest friend.

but it is very confusing what the intentions were with his character and backstory, and it makes me sad because it could have been so much better.

[beom-pyu]

my wips! ★⋆⁺˚⋆｡ °₊*️

see what's coming soon:

(more under the cut!)

I CAN'T SWIM, IDIOT (choi beomgyu x fem!reader) POSTED.

SYNOPSIS:

your best friend just so happens to enter you both into a married-couple-greece-resort-stay-all-expenses-paid giveaway hosted by some random insurance company he found on twitter. but those things are always scams—there's no way you'd end up having to pretend to be beomgyu's wife for one week in a foreign country. and there's absolutely no way you'd end up seeing your childhood best friend in a different light after your stay. nope—not a chance.

RESET (kang taehyun x fem!reader)

coworkers to lovers, rivals to lovers, fluff, comedy, smut

SYNOPSIS:

working as a game developer has been your dream for years. you fought long and hard to work your way up to the top, and you've finally secured a stable, well-paying position at one of the lead gaming companies in the country. things are going well—until your head hires a new programmer to work alongside you for a new campaign. while you are excited to see fresh faces in the office, a problem quickly arises—you can't seem to get along with your counterpart. his know-it-all attitude rubs you the wrong way from the very beginning, and each day, you find it harder and harder to get anything done when he's over your shoulder, critiquing your every move. you don't know how much longer you can put up with his nagging until you downright lose your mind... and maybe your job as well.

(current word count: 3.24k)

TEASER:

“um, hello! nice to meet you. i’m y/n y/l/n, lead character designer,” you introduce yourself with a small bow, looking up to see taehyun smiling at you with those pretty wide eyes.

“i specialize in character design as well. i guess we’ll be working side by side this year,” taehyun shoots you with a blinding grin. your heart stutters a bit at his unwavering eye contact, nodding with a small smile.

“i guess so. you sure you can keep up, though?” you playfully flirt towards him, a low and quiet ‘ooooo’ coming from soobin and yeonjun on either side of you. taehyun remains unfazed at your comment, shrugging slightly at your words with raised brows.

“i’d like to believe so. i’m looking forward to seeing what you got, y/l/n.”

you smile a bit, your gaze unbreaking with his cat eyes.

“likewise, kang.”

END CREDITS (choi yeonjun x fem!reader)

underground boxer au, exes to lovers, heavy angst, fluff, smut

SYNOPSIS:

yeonjun feels as if he's stuck in a loop. every day is the same, boring, painful drag—work, fight club, dinner for ma, and repeat. he's completely numb to everyone and everything around him. why shouldn't he be? the only person he's staying alive for is his mother—if he were to die today, earth would continue to spin without a second thought. that is, until you pop back up into his life—and now everything he knows is flipped onto its head. you left him because of the way he is... so why are you staying this time?

(current word count: 4.6k)

TEASER:

“i think i’m just gonna head home. ma is probably waiting for me.” yeonjun forces a small, strained smile towards beomgyu, watching as the younger’s shoulders droop in disappointment.

“you are so lame,” beomgyu huffs, pushing yeonjun’s shoulder lightly. “dude, just come celebrate with us tonight. i swear i won’t ever ask you again.”

yeonjun shakes his head, shrugging on his gray zip-up before turning back around to walk out of the locker room, beomgyu still hot on his heels. “don’t feel like it, beomgyu. just drop it.”

beomgyu chases after yeonjun as he walks back into the crowded arena, shoving his way through all of the sweaty bodies as another fight starts up.

“you’re the most boring person i’ve ever met,” beomgyu shouts.

“and you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met,” yeonjun shouts back, not even bothering to turn around and face the younger.

to be added:

rockstar!yeonjun x lead singer!reader - exes to lovers

farm boy!taehyun x city girl!reader - strangers to lovers

soon-to-be-married!soobin x wedding planner!reader - exes to lovers

[mixtape-timeout]

It’s baffling to discover that certain authors have blocked me since I made that post. Let me reiterate that holding people accountable for Zionism is not drama, and refusing to platform people with such ideologies is an important part of activism. It always begins with your own community. I have been isolated from many people in my own, real life community for my strong activism for Palestine. I find it very offensive for users who have never spoken about Palestine to pretend I’m just an online Twitter-fingers type person when I have sacrificed so much in my life and fought so hard both in real life and online for Palestine. To act like I am attacking someone on the internet just to feel morally superior is a completely ludicrous statement and diverting from the true issue.

If you think that someone:

1.) Blocking countless Pro-Palestine people ((including other authors))

2.) Taking issues with boycotts and refusing to boycott, calling boycotting “pathetic”.

3.) Making many Pro-Israel posts calling Palestinians terrorists then deleting them only because of backlash.

4.) Making almost every conversation about the genocide about how Israel is the victim, refusing to acknowledge Israel’s crimes, and sharing “activism” posts that skews the genocide as a "war" where both sides are suffering instead of what it really is: The oppressors commiting genocide on the oppressed.

5.) Saying a Zionist propoganda movie which glorifies a Zionist war criminal is your all time favorite.

6.) Using Zionist talking points such as “Zionist is just another word for Jew” and is just another way to be anti-semitic.

If you think all of these examples don’t indicate where that person’s loyalties lie and don’t warrant being called out, I truly don’t know what to tell you. I think it’s ridiculous to act like I’m grasping at straws to look morally superior when there is so much clear evidence. I was terrified to make that post for days because I have been constantly attacked and ostracized for supporting Palestine in real life. My friends advised me to turn off my DMS and Inbox because they knew I would get hate for it here, too. I made that post purely to warn Stays of an individual with dangerous beliefs in our community, and if you see that as something to block me for, you need to re-evaluate yourself.

[aftgtandn]

We’ve been saying it this whole time but let us repeat just once more: you are INCREDIBLE. Your support of the fest and of everyone’s works is what made this possible.

We are so so grateful for your support and the reception the fest has had — we can’t take you enough for it.

It’s really been a blast, and you guys made it all possible. The guessing game and all of your attempts have been incredible to see (not to mention the bingo cards and all the memes you made!) and we know you’re all excited to see which of your guesses were right and who managed to fool you all the way until now…

We know it’s been a lot to keep up with (7 stunning art pieces, over 270k words worth of fic!!) so please continue to leave comments and kudos for our incredible participants and keep giving them ALL the love they deserve as you catch up post reveals. 🧡

To our amazing creators: Be sure to tag us when you're posting your work on your Tumblr & Twitter accounts, so that we can keep promoting you!

You can find all of the fest works in our AO3 collection, but we know what's you're really wondering right now... WHO MADE WHAT??

Without further ado… here’s the full list of works and their creators:

(JOHN 16:24)

by jinjjasyuga Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 0 words Summary: Andrew asked so he received. (Literally.)

You Know I'm Good On My Own

by sambutwithbooks Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Gen // 4568 words Summary: Andrew breaks his arm two games into the season and it feels a little bit like Neil’s world snaps with it. (A snapshot of Neil and Andrew between Andrew coming home from the hospital and going back home to Palmetto State.) ------- Written for the AFTG Then & Now Fest prompt from alecgo: Andrew breaks his arm. They deal with everything that follows.

10 Times We Fell a Little More in Love with Kevin Day

by gleefulfoxes Kevin Day Gen // 2897 words Summary: Ten times Kevin Day stole our hearts and earned his rightful place as the internet's jock bf

Hold Me Like a Knife

by Moondal Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 1068 words Summary: What touch Andrew can tolerate he has wrestled from the minefield of his past, fought a one-man guerilla war against long-gone ghosts. The ground he has gained for himself is massive as is. He can stay within known spaces and be safe. And yet. - Thoughts on touch and an exploration of new intimacy.

nocturnal animals

by animediac Abby Winfield, Betsy Dobson, Gen Gen // 11621 words Summary: “He was an addict,” Taylor says roughly, turning away to unplug the blender. “He wouldn’t accept help and he didn’t care who he hurt with it by the end.” “He was our brother,” Abby says, sadly. “I know,” Taylor tells her. “That was the worst part."" — Memory takes the graveyard shift. Abby Winfield works nights.

Peaches and Cream

by Random2002 Aaron Minyard, Katelyn Explicit // 7119 words Summary: It's certainly well known that Aaron Minyard was head over heels for his girlfriend, Katelyn. In fact, when they are inspired one evening to try something new in the bedroom he's all for giving it a shot even though he's nervous. Who knows, maybe he'll discover something new about himself? Or: Aaron gets Pegged

Reaching Out

by TogeMythia Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 6154 words Summary: ‘What are you thinking about getting?’ Neil smiled as he propped his chin in his hands. Andrew sat himself back against the leather of the booth and gestured to his chest. For a moment Neil didn't understand, but then the realization hit him all at once. ‘Oh.’ - or Andrew gets his nipples pierced

Invisible Smoke

by ScornedEthnographer Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Mature // 1233 words Summary: Smoking was one of the very few things in Andrew’s life that he could count as his. One of the very few constants that he allowed himself to rely on, to expect, to trust. It came from years of repetition, the same billowing taste of acrid smoke on his tongue, the stale stinging in his lungs. It was the same, over and over and over again. It was a rare constant. One of the ""few and far between”s. Unusual. Uncommon. Peculiar. But not the only one.

Quit Horsin’ Around

by JosenlovesMinyard Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 2486 words Summary: Kevin persuades the Foxes to take part in a trail ride whilst staying at the cabin. Neil finds it a lot more enjoyable than he thought he would.

Victory Lap

by justadreamfox Kevin Day, Jeremy Knox Explicit // 7665 words Summary: Kevin gets two things he's always wanted: Olympic gold and Jeremy Knox.

Truck driver POV

by Habakos Neil Josten Gen // Art Summary: First truck driver that lets Neil tag along at the gas station

on the cusp of getting it right

by orionauriga Aaron Minyard, Andrew Minyard Teen // 11145 words Summary: “So,” Neil begins, with a smirk that informs Aaron in the space of one syllable that his mood is about to take a running leap out the car window and splatter gorily across the interstate. “Is it true that you don’t have a license?” -- Andrew teaches Aaron to drive. It goes...about how you would expect.

The Golden Pipe Dream

by Gforce Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day Gen // 8564 words Summary: Neil, Andrew, and Kevin compete in the 2012 Summer Olympics.

Last Straw

by mrskrementz Neil Josten, Mary Hatford Teen // 3478 words Summary: What happened in the Wesninksi household in the week leading up to Mary taking Nathaniel on the run? A look at the pre-canon events from Mary's POV

Goner

by gus_47 Kevin Day, Aaron Minyard Mature // 4871 words Summary: Aaron is the first to notice that Kevin’s alcoholism is an actual problem. He’s an addict, too — he never misses the signs.

I hate you

by itsdill01 Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Mature // 1233 words Summary: Andrew finds out about Nicky’s sexual assault on Neil.

Trials and Tribulations of Wrangling Foxes

by HalfpintPeach Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Gen Gen // 8419 words Summary: When the girls graduate, Neil is standing on his own as Captain of the Palmetto State Foxes.

I find you a little distracting

by lazarusthefirst Neil Josten, Kevin Day Explicit // 6562 words Summary: Kev and Neil fuck on the foxhole court

Weight Bearing

by Justthislazy Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 4385 words Summary: Prompt: Andrew is Strong He carries Neil around and Neil is not ok. Can lead to NSFW but mainly I just want Neil being flustered about how strong Andrew is.

probably be fine

by foodforthot1 Allison Reynolds, Renee Walker Explicit // 8978 words Summary: Once they go pro, Renee and Allison end up on the same team. Now that they’ve made it out of the college/mafia drama, they can finally stop denying the spark between them

Andrew Minyard has no problem carrying around Neil Josten

by emry_stars Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Gen // words Summary: Three images (two full/one chibi style) of Andrew carrying Neil in various situations. One image (chibi) of Neil attempting to pick up Andrew

in the middle

by stabbyfoxandrew Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, Kevin Day Explicit // 9900 words Summary: After a night of drinking has them talking about sex, Andrew reveals that his biggest fantasy is taking Neil and Kevin at the same time. They're both surprised, but very willing to make it happen. Andrew just has to decide if he likes the idea now that it's out of his head. [Set ten years post canon. Kandreil are married and living together and sooo in love.]

Buzz cut season

by H_bee69 Neil Josten, Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick Teen // 2192 words Summary: Neil's bored but Nicky and Aaron keep him company

Complexity of the aftermath

by tathatisbrightassun Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Allison Reynolds, Kevin Day, Dan Wilds, Matt Boyd, Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick, Renee Walker, Betsy Dobson, David Wymack Gen // 6545 words Summary: Betsy didn’t know what to say. When David called her after the holidays and said that some of the foxes would require an extra session with her she got a bit concerned. However, when every single fox, including Neil, booked a session, she had only one question in mind. What the actual fuck happened in Baltimore? Betsy learns about Baltimore events and she has thoughts.

Dream clouds, ghost ground (I’ve been looking at the sky to show me where I went wrong)

by Ateiluj Gen Mature // 11457 words Summary: Cass Spear deals with her son’s death, the truths that it reveals, and how it all reshapes her past with Andrew.

The Foxes go to Disneyland

by KittKatAttack Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Dan Wilds, Matt Boyd, Nicky Hemmick, Kevin Day, Aaron Minyard, Allison Reynolds, Renee Walker, Katelyn, Erik Klose Gen // 1547 words Summary: The foxes go to Disneyland and chaos ensues

Give, Bequeath & Devise

by the_greater_grief Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 2502 words Summary: Neil inherits the Baltimore house.

worth it

by mostly_maudlin Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 1960 words Summary: ""What makes you think I want you fighting on my behalf?” Andrew asks. Neil pulls the ice pack from his face, features tightening with a new spark of anger. “What makes you think I care if you want me to?” he asks. “It’s my choice. And I will always choose to fight for you.”

Andreil Marriage

by TeoMoy Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Gen // words Summary: Andrew and Neil getting married in the woods, with Wymack officiating and the foxes there.

right here every day

by rwnjun Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Mature // 8855 words Summary: Neil's new cat does not like Andrew.

i needed someone i could run to

by seasy33 Kevin Day, David Wymack Teen // 8608 words Summary: The idea of a father didn't occur to Kevin until after his mother died. The story about a letter, and the terrifying ordeal of finding your family.

The Later Parade

by hourafterhour Kevin Day, Jean Moreau Mature // 41152 words Summary: No such thing as a bad pass to Kevin Day.

andrew gets his nips pierced

by maddervanilla Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten Mature // words Summary:

What Makes a Family

by Aquared46 Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 9671 words Summary: Post-Baltimore, the Foxes take a vacation in the mountains. During that time, the Foxes get to know Neil better, and Neil gets to know himself better too. OR 8 times Neil is taken care of by his teammates and +1 time Neil learns what it means to take care of himself.

Andrew Doe, Juvenile Delinquent (Art)

by WymackAndCheese Andrew Minyard Teen // 0 words Summary: Digital illustration of Andrew Minyard in a Juvenile Detention Center, pre-The Foxhole Court

Mind over Matt-er

by Twolipsliterature Dan Wilds, Matt Boyd Teen // 2633 words Summary: ""The first time the girls saw Matt shirtless, it was distraction enough to forget their conversation."" -AFTG EC Dan likes to pretend she's unaffected by Matt's charms and unbelievably hot body. Even she knows what bullshit that is.

A wall at your back

by djhedy Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten Teen // 4628 words Summary: Foxes get married

our gentle violence

by foxbyeol Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 1996 words Summary: The opposite of cruel is always gentle and that is what everyone expects from you when you care for someone else. They treat it as a delicate, breakable thing. But the connection between them wasn't hanging on my thread of porcelain. Hands that were never taught to be gentle only know how to ground by a firm touch. A touch that is not punishing like so many of those who preceded them but a pushing want which is not only welcomed but desired. And there is a freedom in that, getting the space to be rough without ""cruelty"", a gentle violence they have made their own. OR, Andrew and Neil roughhouse and play around together without much consequences - the only being the rewarding kind.

Against The Wall

by Mystrana Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 2882 words Summary: After years together, Andrew's finally gotten to a point where he can request exactly what he wants from Neil. And in this case? He wants to be railed up against the wall.

transferable skills

by decaflondonfog Jeremy Knox, Jean Moreau Explicit // 11111 words Summary: It’s the way Jean watches his own hands as he guides the thread through the paper, pulling the gathering tight to the spine. It’s the way Jean bends, strong and handsome, over a tiny embroidery hoop to get the details exactly right. Jeremy Knox is supposed to be spending his senior year worrying about what comes next. Instead, he’s mesmerized as he watches each stitch come to life and finds, there in between the threads, something completely unexpected.

a mother's love

by Greenfallleaves Neil Josten, Mary Hatford Teen // 9259 words Summary: In the hell that was Neil's childhood, there were good moments too. Almost all of them included his mother. Mary cared about her boy. Or 5 relatively peaceful moments from Neil's childhood.

we're one (there's nothing to be done)

by wesawbears Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 2345 words Summary: After Neil is injured, he and Andrew come face to face with how quickly everything they've worked for can be taken away when the Moriyama's check up on their investment. The two will be forced to face the emotions created by the deal that was made so long ago.

When Did You Learn That?

by Geneat Neil Josten, Gen Teen // 2635 words Summary: ""I thought Andrew was the lockpick to watch out for,"" Matt said dryly. ""It's a Masterlock,"" Neil said dismissively. Then, with no finesse at all, he jiggled the rod violently and the lock popped open. ""A toddler can open it.""

glittering eyes, sweet smile

by starscrossingfates Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Gen // 0 words Summary: Whenever Neil laughed, Andrew looked at Neil as if he was the sun itself. And Andrew was a planet unequivocally caught in his orbit. [Art]

Not fast enough

by OhThePain_333 Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 2797 words Summary: Andrew has a violent nightmare in which Neil dies. It unsettles him a lot. He needs comfort and Neil's hugs. They talk about their respective nightmares and cuddle.

Layover

by justadreamfox Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten Explicit // 3064 words Summary: The geography is fucked, but he has Neil tonight, even if it's barely more than a layover. Or, prompt #17: Andreil bang ON the mas.

hot girl bummer (we've shipped kevin to california it's fine don't worry about it JUST KEEP GOING)

by alcego Kevin Day, Jeremy Knox, Jean Moreau Explicit // 9258 words Summary: For the first time in his life, Jean has the opportunity for a quiet, uneventful summer. Instead, he has with two (fake) boyfriends who keep flirting with each other by proxy, a bone-deep weariness that's doing more to his skin than the sun, and a looming sense of inevitability about it all. He can handle one of those problems.

dashboard saints

by nanatsuyu Kevin Day, Andrew Minyard Explicit // 7750 words Summary: Andrew stands in his own way when it comes to most things in his life. Kevin Day is not an exception.

Local Man Gets Injured Getting Friend (?) Off, Says “Worth It”

by kunimi Kevin Day, Aaron Minyard Mature // 7645 words Summary: “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Neil says. There’s something thoughtful in his tone, and it takes all of Kevin’s willpower not to immediately glance at Aaron. Instead, Kevin lifts his head slowly, scanning over all his friends’ faces with a deliberate casualness. As soon as his gaze crosses over Aaron, though, he realises he has no idea what to say. They haven’t – talked about it. Not really. (Two hours ago, Aaron was teasing him about being in a rush, and Kevin’s focus had been on how flustered he was in the moment. Now, all he can think about is Aaron’s first comment. Romantic, Aaron says dryly, shaking his head. Romantic, romantic, romantic. Kevin wants. Kevin aches.) There are probably worse ways to reveal new developments in your love life than getting benched, baffling your team’s medical personnel, and accidentally announcing your sex-related mishaps to your entire professional team’s management and several members of your college one. Kevin can’t think of any right now, though. —is it a 22-night stand or a relationship? kevin day's guide to soft-launching your new man [it’s long 💀💀💀 so the bottom part is more useful for a summary, the top bit is excerpt]

hypocorisms

by mostly_maudlin Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard Teen // 2183 words Summary: Three times Andrew calls Neil “rabbit,” and one time he calls him “bunny.”

Thank you all SO MUCH!!

With all the love and appreciation in the world,

Your Then&Now 2023 fest mods

[cosmicarcanist]

hii, asking here because i’m shy lol

i saw on twitter that you (and chër) have been working on psychonauts aus. i think the concept looks really cool so i was wondering if you could tell us a little about what you’ve been cooking !! love your work btw <33

oh thank you so much! yeah me and cher talk a lot abt intricate aus (and canon) so i can share some of my viktor stuff for the psychonauts au (under the cut its long)

viktor was originally an intern for the psychonauts! He mentored under sasha, and he has the special ability of like tech psychic powers (he can remotely control any tech w his mind, hes also adept in most other abilities except he cant read minds at ALL)

He met chuck (pre mundo) who was working security there and decided to help him try to awaken and stengthen his powers while also testing his own devices! Sasha (and otto) rly believe in him so his machines begin to be used by the psychonauts and hes being tracked to join them!

The other psychonauts tho are p worried abt some of the stuff he talks abt, some of his aspirations and ideas, theyre... concerning (unless ur otto). Sasha still vouches for and defends his pupil cause hes just misguided his hearts in the right place hes just very intense and passionate and ambitious but he can be put on the right path! Some stuff happens, a kid dies, viktor thinks its the perfect opportunity for him to test his robot he built that requires a brain (it was originally built for an adult brain but viktor saw a kid in need whose life was cut short and he decided to take the chance now). The psychonauts see this as an affront to humanity, that viktors trapped a child in a construct and turned them into a monster, that this is unethical and dangerous; viktor sees the psychonauts as wishy washy centrists that twiddle their thumbs rather than help a child by any means necessary.

he gets kicked out.

hes stripped of any accolades, any prospects, even his own inventions (they choose to keep and USE THEM). Sasha fought to keep him, otto genuinely thinks what he did is right and Cool, but hes deemed a danger so they kick him out. Sashas concerned what this will do to his pupils psyche and that this is a surefire way to create an enemy for the psychonauts and he was CORRECT

viktor goes and becomes a weird hermit in the woods, sets up a lab out there. He got separated from chuck and he cant go back to talk to him, but after a short while he founds out chuck left and thinks he just left of his own volition without saying anything. He has drones survey the woods as a means of security but also kind of to see if he ever finds chuck (his drones act as a sort of hive mind of which he controls and can see through). Blitz comes with him as his now adopted robot son (gender nonspecific). Theres quite a few things viktor can never forgive the psychonauts for but one of them is treating blitz as if theyre a monster and not a CHILD

fast forward quite a few years and chucks come back from the asylum, now as mundo, and escapes hq into the woods where viktors drones find him. Viktor being psychic and also chucks ex?? boyfriend recognizes him immediately and is horrified to find him transformed and not himself, so he takes him back to the lab and hooks him up to a machine that he can astral project his own cosciousness into mundos head

where he promptly gets trapped

YOU as the player have up till this point heard nothing but horrified whispers and terrible rumours about viktor. Hed been stripped of the records as the man that had invented much of their tech, but you hear enough to get the impression hes a deranged, dangerous monster that killed a child and put their brain into an unfeeling unthinking automaton to do his bidding, and that he lurks the woods looking for more victims. You start to hear other stories tho that may pique your curiosity, so you go looking for his lab and have to brace yourself for whatever dangerous psychic youll have to face

instead you find viktor and mundo hooked up to this machine unresponsive, and for god knows how long. To advance youd have to enter mundos mind to rescue a trapped viktor, who is very hostile to you as a stranger that has suddenly entered this space, and a trespasser, but because hes been lost in the labrynth of mundos mind for god knows how long, he will reluctantly work with you to get out.

(im sure youve seen chers description for mundos mind/level but the tldr is viktor just cant wrap his head around navigating it alone so its a bit of an escort mission except viktor cant die so hes kind of just tagging along. You get to see moments of chuck/mundo and moments and memories of viktor and how he responds to them until you get to the end and fight mundo as the boss and can unite chuck and mundo as one entity hereafter referred to as atlas)

once the two of you are spat out and atlas has come to, viktor will reluctantly offer his services to you for the rest of the game, where he acts as a kind of shop and upgrade system, but at this point its fairly limited and hes still pretty standoffish.

If you want to fully unlock him and get i guess the true ending for these two, youd have to do viktors level which is completely optional because its BRUTAL. Just a completely unnecessarily harsh difficulty spike.

Viktors mind/level is a hostile environment. When you first enter its just a void with a small matryoshka in a spotlight. As you approach some wacky camera shit zooms in to find you on the surface of the now giant matryoshka, and the environment remains extremely dark, only your immediate surroundings are lit, save for the odd flash of bright light that will only briefly light up your environment. This place is overrun with enemies that are already difficult enough to deal with while trying to navigate in the dark as you look for the way to advance. The matryoshka acts as a giant safe where each doll is another vault you have to unlock to step down into the next level (each doll is also modeled after another "mask" for viktor, the outermost being the terrifying machine herald youve come to associate him as).

The real kicker to his level, though, is you are being pursued by an unkillable, unrelenting, furious and desperate machine herald through the entire level. The further down you go, the closer you get to the center, the more desperate your pursuer becomes, and the more relentless. If he catches you you will get thrown out and have to start all over, and the layout and puzzles will change. Every single part of this level is doing everything in its power to keep you from getting to the center

once you DO though, maybe you expect some kinda final boss fight against that pursuer, but once you reach the center you just find... viktor. viktor the day he got kicked out, just younger, fully human, small and afraid and extremely upset. No boss fight, just talk to viktor and help put him on the path of healing from this moment!

after finishing viktors level you unlock his shop/upgrades fully! His demeanor also changes towards you where he still feels a lil standoffish and awkward, but hes a lot more receptive to you now. His lab has also taken on more of chucks qualities since now atlas and viktor are reunited and can live together :) viktor seems more relaxed finally, sometimes he even sleeps now! he still refuses to return to the psychonauts but hes less obsessed with revenge against them, he just kind of wants to start his life over now with atlas

arguably this is the HAPPIEST au for him, psychonauts is a lot abt healing and how its a process, itll never be perfect but its all abt trying and accepting help so he gets to heal a lil as a treat here :)

uhh sorry this was the tldr version i just like coming up with fake levels, gameplay, idle animations, dialogue etc etc so its fun to stick him in a world like this and see what stays the same and whats different

[trickstarbrave]

heyyyy im making a pinned post as that is a feature and seems good to keep info all in one place esp for ppl on mobile

❤️im brave!! or rua works if u want to but brave is by far the most popular name i go by. he/him pronouns

❤️art commissions/art trades are NOT on the table rn sadly. i used to offer commissions and did art trades with friends but for the most part im really busy with work/health conditions. if i have a bit of free time i may change this or make a few exceptions on a case by case basis depending on my schedule. for the most part tho i just want my art to be a stress relief activity

❤️art requests i do take from time to time now, but there is no guaranty i will take it. please do not spam requests hoping i’ll do it and please do not get mad if i don’t do it. they’re requests for a reason. if i am particularly inspired i’ll be happy to get around to it if life lets me

❤️technically multifandom blog i would say, mostly i have been focused on the elder scrolls series lately. you will probably see me rb stuff from like, a bunch of series. if this changes i’ll prob edit this post LMAO (i do not control the special interest)

❤️not just an art blog but also personal. my art can be found in my #my art tag. wips can sometimes be found scattered on my twitter if they arent on here. and writing that i publish can be found on my ao3 (though i have like a million wips that dont get published and be warned much of my ao3 is rated E and not for everyone)

❤️ been doing a lot of oc posting so i can do a run down of them currently for anyone that wants to follow along/know the lore:

/// OCS ///

(under cut)

🌟 Eyja: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. past life incarnation was konahrik, alduin’s head priest, murdered by miraak. uses a bow and magic primarily. story can be found here

🌟 Senna: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. proud two handed weapon user and leader of the companions. fought and lost to the world eater who took her back to his den and make her his partner. proof prophecy can be a complicated thing. story can be found here.

🌟 Baldur: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, he/him. grew up on the streets stealing to survive, and certified trans of gender. fought and lost to the world eater who decided to force baldur to be his champion. helps him take over skyrim. story not yet published but will prob contain a lot of mentions of transphobia as a cw :(

🌟 Ansa: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. orphaned at a young age, and just a weird, feral child. learned to steal, and ended up joining the thieves guild. killed mercer and turned the guild over to karliah and is helping rebuild it when she finds a weird rock that turns out to be a dragon egg. story not yet published

🌟 Ahkrinaak: general elder scrolls oc, he/him/any pronouns. he is based off me as a sort of self insert/persona character purely for comedy, not a serious au. dragon/god who was corrupted in the war with lorkhan/shor and became more so an agent of lorkhan. he spends most of his time pretending to be a mortal and causing problems. he’s just sillay. looks like a falmer/snow elf and nord hybrid making pretty much everyone just in general uncomfortable. dragons dont have gender he just likes tits. divorced with alduin

🌟 Lyre: not a skyrim oc (yet) but my beloved dnd character i have made a million aus for, including one that has turned into a full on novel lmao. will update everyone when i start uploading the novel (its not gonna be too serious just a fun lil webnovel that is pg rate) and you can see me post illustrations for. depending on the AU uses either he/him or she/her. i just think theyre neat

🌟 Anthial: nerevarine bosmer, tired, angry, nb spellsword. he/them pronouns. just wants to cover their entire body until you cant tell what gender they are. vivec never got them the drink he owed them. was convinced as nerevar that voryn never liked them back all that much. had an open marriage with almalexia. this incarnation was emotionless and lacked a moral compass due to the betrayal in their past life.

🌟 Steren: nerevarine, technically. not actually the reincarnation of nerevar, but the reincarnation of nerevar’s son. nerevar never reincarnated bc he was too busy haunting his descendants, too upset to move on. steren has a couple of aus but mostly its him with vivienne the dragonborn who belongs to @mulberrycafe. calls voryn “ata” and nerevar “dad” because he technically grew up in cyrodiil but remembers his first lifetime in bits and pieces where voryn raised him for the first few years.

feel free to send asks abt my ocs i love answering them

[filenetaylor]

40 Years Old; Moved; Threats; Death of Dragoneer; About Filene, Me

[cw: Child Trafficking, Sex Crimes, Genocide, Nakba, Crimes against Humanity, War Crimes, Security, Panopticon, Child Abuse, Commercialized Control, Systemic Violence, Healthcare Violence, Systemic oppression, Death, Grief, Coercive Control, Stochastic Violence]

Bismillah, in the name of Allah'; If you're a minor, you need to ask an adult you trust to read this post instead.

Look no further than the death announcement of the person known as Dragoneer, and you'll find folk promptly celebrating due to one small scandal of virtue or another. None of this compares to the people Preyfar (aka Dragoneer) stood up to, folk who insulate and stop conversations about the Israeli Defense Force's Nakba continuing in Palestine, about the invasion and threats on Ukraine (Feb 4th) which threaten the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Plant to cause another Chernobyl Disaster as well as the people of Ukraine themselves. He fought those who will turn education about human and reproductive rights into sex crimes. People (like a former president) who have said "Jeffrey Epstein" is a good guy despite being at the center of an international child sex trafficking ring that coerced people in positions of power to becoming his assets and clients. And Dragoneer? He was a kind-hearted, jovial artist (to those who knew him) who was allowed to take over Alkora's FurAffinity project in 2007, as Alkora was already being targeted for scandal. Dragoneer worked internationally as a contractor prior to IMVU's purchase, and in the last ten years, he has fought to keep FurAffinity together despite his own impoverishment.

Dragoneer tried many ways to keep the site going. After FurAffinity was blocked from being paid by the major payment processors, after he changed the content permissions to be ethically and virtuously clean with regards to content and these payment authorizers' tightening rules, and after temporarily allowing IMVU to be in possession of the site's legal entity before Dragoneer purchased it anew, he was without health insurance in Virginia. Virginia, for those of you not aware, has regularly sued people on the USA-funded poverty healthcare option, Medicaid, under claims of bills that should not have been paid. Even though I was familiar with Dragoneer on a first-name basis as he was a long-term acquaintance and friend of mine, Twitter's purchase and gutting by Elon Musk left his reach and visibility erased. I had no idea Dragoneer, my friend, was suffering from a life threatening condition for months, and was repeatedly being failed and deferred by healthcare providers he saw. Of course he would be, when you know doctors also need to be paid by a healthcare system founded on austerity and punitive lawsuits against needy peoples. (This is compared to the President Donald administration getting paid to forcibly sterilize undocumented refugees and migrants. I don't have the link about my Medicaid claim right now.)

And so, Dragoneer died last night. I had found out at 4am, because my complex household needs means I was up at 1:30am. (You'd think merely 'being awake' can make praying the Salaat easier, but it doesn't even as a Queer, Trans, and 2022-recently Islamic Muslim.) I am so beside myself with grief, as I am aware my own father needs 24/7 healthcare and care work but can't afford it. He is the same age as the DoorDasher who humbly needed my help to provide our needed groceries (like toilet paper) that we 'financed' on the exploitative APR credit cards we need to get by. Even if my dad has pushed Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer back to its smallest this year, he still needs help to recover his memory. In my house, we are 24/7. So when followers show up with tags like "im_1nside_your_house", or when I am subject to a "Miscreant In the Middle" attack while at the laundromat, I am as ready as I can be on hours of sleep and gratitude from constant prayers.

He didn't need to die. My dad doesn't need to be nickle-and-dimed for healthcare. And people don't need to go broke paying for health insurance for themselves, their dogs, or the life of their land. If you're as angry about this farcical austerity--treating currency bills like they're invaluable and limited-edition collector's items only fit to be horded ala the Panama Papers--then I pray fellow furries like me and Dragoneer can still do something about it.

In his last tweets on TwXtter, you can still see Dragoneer fighting fascists. I'm no expert on fascism, so let me try to summarize it by the line: "Might makes right." This 'might' being people or organizations employing technology (ala "Djinn," "Egregores," or in this case, just corporate bodies and the 'thoughtforms' employees have) exploiting these massive systems of power to create a lie into reality by the fact their power enables it to happen. Why else can some of the most far-right Israelis feel like they're protecting their homeland, when it only exists in the dwindling darkness of ignorance a Hebrew-only state (no Yiddish allowed) birthed in children? This kind of dark enlightenment is still poisoning us today, even as it is one JD Vance advocates for.

And, today, someone from a popular UNDERTALE world record holder's Discord community found one of the other places I am also combating this international system of exploitation: VANtics. If you think I'm against lies being used to control children, which I am, look to your own television, or your YouTube Kids app. Therein, besides Elsagate and the USA's weak attempts to stop this via KOSA, you will find a surreal INTERNATIONAL normality. This normality has existed since before USAian Cigarette Marketing invented marketing: paid commercial advertisements.

VANtics is my hope to reveal that, not only do non-consentual airing of commercial publications exploit the children who might see them, they exploit the children cast within them. You can see Nickelodeon-network scandals regarding content that unnecessarily and unhealthily pushed child actors to pose for scenes that graphically held on their bodily features that were unnecessary to the plot. Am I using more words than a 14 year old might understand? No, as I was a very clever 14 year old who could not dispel the images, their realism, and the intimacy in their performances in these ads. Who could be OK participating like this in an ad for a large audience? Why would this piece of art be made to be aired when I would see it, to plausibly and intentionally shape my thoughts for a lifetime? It's called "Image Marketing" and executives are as aware of this as the Exxon executives were aware of the problems of climate change.

I had no idea this crossover would happen hours after Dragoneer's passing, and continue to expose the internet-wide exploration, presence, and communities I'm a part of. My act of boldly or humbly living my life as a visible trans* person since 2014 has required me to have faith in higher powers, all the way up to a single unifying Creator: as I've survived multiple attacks completely outside of this SansIsSleeping art project. These attacks aren't merely physical violence, but legal, social, economic, and bureaucratic. The fact I am here today is not just because of my faith in One transcendental Creator (Tahwid) keeping all of this order on Earth quietly operating despite chaos. It's because of people like my spouse. It's because of my children who lead and inspire me. It's because of the community members I've met who wonder why commodity fetishism is a normal and accepted marketing tactic for children. It's because of old friends who still continue to commune with me, and other friends who don't hesitate to help with money, or networking, or other aid. It's because of people like Mari who is also facing a similar healthcare and financial crisis like Dragoneer did. It's because of people like atax1a , aka Alex, who inspire me and teach me by xer own dictionary-like addressing of all the space xe hold. This is just like the Bo Burnham special "Inside," tackling this same topic (and the Outtakes which are great): my inside is outside now, and we're entering a world where "Everybody Knows." This even reminds me of the coercive/puppeteering blackmail-like control that I found suggested by lyrics within a music video composed by Toby Fox but I am soon courageous enough to finally witness. This is much like SnowGrave for me, which I had put off for months out of fear I would, again, be haunted ala the Genocide/Ecocidal ending of UNDERTALE. Does "No Mercy" even cut such a story of increasingly consolidated power choices?

I'm in my final days of work on the architecture of Slumberer Sentinels. I don't know if I will have a complete platform architecture drawn out before I begin, but this is another one of this era's "clarion call" attempts. Just like Tim Berners-Lee believes in a decentralized web rescuing us from this terrorism-technology panopticon, I believe a universal networked system state that Slumberer Sentinels can provide open-source would be an open book all of you can read and teach me from, as the next generation and current generation of experts.

Yes, I'm weird. But I understand consent enough now to refuse power being proof of consent. Perhaps might can create the lie of what is right, but informed/FRIES consent is mightier. Like my welcome new Vice Presidential candidate Tim Walz says: it's weird to have this power and say these wrong, revisionist things about living beings. It's beyond weird, it's wrong to claim ability to divine who at our scale deserves to die and live. That's not our job, we need enough of us fools and all living beings alive long enough to learn an unforgettable lesson. We are already living in a time of Genocide, of Nakba.

What are YOU doing?

You're reading this? Thank you. Preyfar, may Ar Rahman Ar Raheem, the Most Gracious and Most Merciful be pleased, and peace be upon you.

Filene "Natalie" Taylor B August 7th, 2024

(v1: got most of the links in there, not all of them, such as a talk Cory Doctorow referred to where "AI" is actually considered Organizations, and their growing authoritarian control is the problem. I think the talk is like, "How did we mess up this bad?" or something)

[jtl-fics]

Fic Writer 40

8, 9, 10, and 20

Meme for Fic Writers Ask Game

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Oh I'm really really proud of a scene in Math Nerd where Neil and Andrew are having a game of truth up on the roof.

"Ask." Andrew says.

"Are you happy?" he asks. Is he...happy? "That's your question?" Andrew asks despite himself. "It is." Neil says not looking out at him, "You can think about it. I don't need the answer right away I guess." Neil says. Is he happy? He thinks about his life, more specifically his life after Alex. He still wants to find his friend, wants to thank you and smack him over the head for the risk he took. He thinks about having a brother, having a cousin, and even his friendships with Renee and Kevin. "Why do you want to know?" Andrew asks. "It's still my turn Andrew." Neil reminds. Is he happy? "I wouldn't call it happy." He says because Andrew doesn't do that. "What are you then?" Neil asks. "Why do you want to know?" Andrew returns. "I care about you, I'd like for you to at least be...content with your life." Neil answers. Content feels safer, feels less like an admission. "I'm content." Andrew gives back and Neil smiles still not looking at Andrew at all. "That's good. I'm glad." Neil pushes himself away from the ledge, "See you tomorrow Andrew." he says leaving Andrew alone on the roof.

I just like the whole conversation though this bit had me in tears when I was writing it. The whole conversation has some jokes ("He went somewhere I couldn't follow." "Arizona?") but I think it really shows how lonely Neil has been made by his time travel. He's so desperate for there to be something good that came out of it. If that good thing is that Andrew is happy or at least content? Maybe it's okay.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I mean like emotionally? "I'll Take Care Of You" devastated me for a while.

Writing as in like it fought me the whole damn way there are a lot of parts of Fluent Freshman that have fought me. I always know the joke I wanna tell by the end of a part but so help me building up to it or transitioning to the next one is always super duper hard for me.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Man I banged out "Sometimes Life is Accepting That Things Get Hard" in like an evening. The imagery that Lex put on twitter was just SO DANG GOOD that it shot out of me.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions. (Answered before)

It is immediately before an arbitrary deadline I have set for myself that no one else is focused on. I have hold music playing. I have a cherry coke within easy reaching distance. I have muted discord because i am categorically bad at not chatting.

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

Share support through likes, comments, and reblogs! Find my kofi here for further support and early chapter access.

summary: “I’m sure I can handle it. And you? You’re not going t’say a word, got it? Not t’anyone.” It’s a warning—a threat—as his finger points like a gun, holding him hostage until he surrenders. Steve can only accept his fate—one worse than Hopper’s anger—as he pictures her face contorted in rage. His arms raised to rest behind his head, fingers locked with a gaze far off beyond the parted blinds at the other's back. “Lying t’a superhuman. Great. I’ll get my will ready. Seeing as, y’know, she’ll definitely kill me.” warnings: Steve is an angel, emotional avoidance, secrecy, some Jopper wc: 3,750

The night is long—nearly never-ending. It was far past any normal dinner time, but their situation wasn’t exactly deemed normal. Together, the pair sit in the living room with paper plates of warmed food. They bicker over who gets the unsturdy sofa, knowing it’ll buckle with their weight added together. She uses the excuse that he’s worked all day and needs to rest. He argues against her, willing to sacrifice his comfort for a girl in distress. But she falls to the now-cleaned floor across from the couch, ignoring his words as a fork cuts away at the lasagna. Briefly, he fumes. He was nearly red in the face at just how stubborn she was, but ultimately chose to sit on the floor as well, disregarding the ache in his back. They talk about little things—from how his day went at work to what her favorite classes were to how she managed to find her way back out of the woods on her own. He’s impressed by her bravery, yet he's still frustrated at her inability to listen. It’s how kids are; he knows that.

Through a mouthful of noodles, she asks about her home. If that level of destruction was truly at the hands of one man, paired with her own curse, Hopper seems reluctant to give clarity, thinking over his words carefully before choking down his mouthful, wincing at the lump as it slithers down. “It’s a cover-up,” he mumbles, preparing another bite to pile onto his fork. There’s a pause between them both, chewing behind her hand before asking, “For what?” He waits, his eyes fluttering elsewhere as he continues on this false path. “Don’t know yet. I just know that he’s not a good man.” What comes in reply isn’t what he anticipates. A hearty snort to echo in this small space shared. “Yeah, no shit.” They fall silent just after—a look of wonder and worry in his stare, watching as she so casually pulls apart her meal. Unaware of the torment to twist and tear at her mind, she was unable to escape the sight of the grayed woman and the girl she connected with in that space. A girl who seemed very much alive and aware. Somehow pulling Autumn’s mind into her own, where there was only fear, blood, and the man to invade her home. It’s an unsolved mystery—no simple man could give an understanding of the storm she fought through. Yet still, she speaks. “He’s not the only one I saw.” Her voice is soft, like a gentle summer breeze. Warm, and barely heard beneath the crickets from just beyond the front door. He questions who, and the passionate pace she held for a hot meal slows to a standstill, shrugging in response. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like... I’m just seeing someone else’s story. Their life, y’know? And he’s right there. I don’t get it.” There’s a beat, and then the atmosphere around her seems to shift. Nightmares are lifted, or rather forced back into the closet, to live in ignorance as she stands from her place to discard her plate. Her hand extends down toward him, waiting for his own, and he can’t help but offer a nod in thanks, though the smile he wears is fake. As they turn from one another, he allows the weakness to creep in, his grin falling flat as a stare burns holes through the floor. Words rush forward before being swallowed back down, shards of glass to rip at his insides, and his pain goes unheard as she scrubs at the utensils. He wants to give her the space she needs to move at her own pace, but the secrets are a slow and unseen torture within him. Slowly, he lets them trickle out for some sort of relief from the pressure. “He knows your father,” he states with a cracking voice, picturing the way her eyes shoot daggers toward his back as if he misspoke. “Works with him, I think.” She doesn’t budge from her place in the kitchen, turning at the handles until the water eases its flow. He’s not even entirely sure if she heard him. But she asks, “Doing what?” She already knows. At least she knows enough to where the idea is less surprising. He wonders what she’s seen—what he’s told her, if anything at all. “I’m not sure,” A lie. Too fearful to look her way in anticipation of a glare, plucking out the weeds of an ugly truth. He’s hesitant, ready to cast away his gaze should tearful eyes find him, but she remains facing the sink, fingers gripping the edge.

In a breath, she turns with arms crossed over her chest, seeming more irritated than disturbed by the idea of the girl's father working with a man on a mission to steal her away. Then, the denial comes in like a burst of wind to blow away the heavy fog. Eyes lit with new energy and purpose. “Well,” she says, cutting through the silence. “You better figure some shit out. I can’t imagine how much schoolwork I’ve missed. I’m probably failing right now, Hop. Failing.” His mouth is hung agape, with a slight twist at the corner of his lip in pure disbelief. He’s seen this behavior before, staring right back at him in the mirror. The switch you flip, leaving the room dark and a mind ignorant of reality, so that you may live. “You were almost abducted, and you’re worried about school?” She makes a face, shoulders shrugged with palms out to the sky, as if to say, “Duh,” and he’s baffled. “CPS will come knockin’, and then what?"

He knows the girl is right. He knows her empty home echoes with numerous phone calls from the school, searching for the missing girl. He’s not ready to let her walk through those doors and out of his sight. Not without a plan. So, Wednesday morning comes, and he’s back in the office, plotting and making secretive phone calls to the only other person who’s familiar with the situation, Steve Harrington. The boy was eager to help in any way that he could, though cut short the moment he attempted to mention her name over the line. Hours pass, and the sound of sneakers scuffing along the tile brings his full attention toward the shut door, listening to the sounds of complaining as the door is forced open. It’s well after hours of school coming to an end, and the boy's face is still holding remnants of sweat with flushed cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kicking the door shut behind him as he flipped a thick stack of paperwork with a single hand. “Had practice after class. It must’ve slipped my mind. Life’s been so crazy,” he finishes with an uncomfortable laugh. Hopper is left unimpressed or amused by the boy. Arms folded over the table to support his weight, as his stare burns through freckled skin, a smile quickly falters. “Y’know…because of?” He waits in silence, studying the other man's expression carefully, yet all he offers is an extended hand, waiting with great impatience. “Yep, anyway,” he states quickly, slipping the collection into Hopper’s grip. Now satisfied, the officer sits back in his chair to sift through the work. Specific things he’s requested.

Autumn’s homework.

Steve watches as the man's face twists up in familiar annoyance, saying a silent prayer that the girl would never ask for his help with precalculus. “Good job,” he sighs, letting the stack fall to his desk with a “whap,” before leaning further back in his chair, hands running along his tired face. “All she can think about are her grades,” Hopper snorts. The humor isn’t lost on Steve, his lips turning up in a smile as he settles into the chair just across from the chief. “That doesn’t surprise me.” The man casts a glance in the boy’s direction, a subtle frown developing the more comfortable he gets. Like he belonged in a place like this—a secret agent working undercover for Hopper and a wanted girl. His thumbs twiddle, and his focus shifts around the shared space, taking it all in with his lips parting before closing again. He wants to speak but feels small under Hopper’s stern stare, swallowing his words. The police chief can hardly handle the growing tension, snapping, “What?" Earning a wide-eyed look from Steve in surprise. “What?” he repeats back with an innocent tone, his ignorance not once fooling Hopper. “You’ve clearly got something on your mind. Spit it out.” He’s uncertain, lips pursed with an avoidant focus as scrambled thoughts collect. His hesitance is visible in the way his Adam’s apple bobs, fidgeting hands now frozen though his knee bounces. “I just, uh,” he pauses, now chewing at his still-healing lip. "How—how is she?” A heavy intake of air fills the man's chest, exhaling, “She’s fine,” he said, his eyes now locked on the quiet phone at his desk, waiting for a ring of interruption. What he gets in return, however, is a hard snort just across the way. “Yeah, I’m sure. She seemed real fine before I left.” Steve leans with his back against the chair, arms folded over his chest, and a look of light amusement in his expression. “Can’t imagine being in the best mental state after finding o-” “She doesn’t know,” he cuts in, watching how it all shifts into something of disbelief. Like all he had known was ripped out beneath his feet, now unbalanced and incapable of processing this new reality. “What?”

The teen waits in silence. He was hoping for a shift in the atmosphere or a twist of a smile to suggest he was only joking. But he’s stoic and empty. “Are you kidding me? You haven’t-? How can you explain-?” “It’s complicated, kid,” the man mumbles behind the hand to scrub away his frown lines. A glare soon lands on the boy as he scoffs, following with, “Yeah, no shit, it’s complicated.” Steve seems ignorant of his tone or the lack of respect shown to not just a peer but also an officer. He sees them as companions, a duo linked together through unsettling times. A friend in the darkness, when no one else could understand. "But it’s going t’get about one hundred times worse if you don’t tell her.” He feigns a smile, replying, “I’m sure I can handle it. And you? You’re not going t’say a word, got it? Not t’anyone.” It’s a warning—a threat—as his finger points like a gun, holding him hostage until he surrenders. Steve can only accept his fate—one worse than Hopper’s anger—as he pictures her face contorted in rage. His arms raised to rest behind his head, fingers locked with a gaze far off beyond the parted blinds at the other's back. “Lying t’a superhuman. Great. I’ll get my will ready. Seeing as, y’know, she’ll definitely kill me.” With a roll of his eyes, Hopper stands with the paperwork in hand, making his way towards a discarded duffle bag, plunging them into its depths where few other secrets remain hidden. The last thing he needed was for someone to stumble into his unoccupied office, his mind filling with a thousand questions after finding homework scattered across his desk.

He waits in silence, hands hung on his hips, while he watches as the boy lives out what he believes to be his very short future and torturous end. His stare glazed over with anxiety and unavoidable doom. “I need another favor,” Hopper speaks up, immediately regretting his lack of control once he sees the curl of a smile. “I seem t’be doing a lot of those lately.” He doesn’t allow enough room for the response to evoke annoyance, pushing through with a clear mission ahead. “I need you t’watch her.” “Watch her?” he questions, tone dripping with uncertainty and confusion. “I don’t know where those people are. They could be out there,” he gestures towards the space out just beyond the closed door, where people filed in to provide complaints against their neighbors. Hell, it could have been Florence, for all he knew—keeping tabs on a man who threatened the secrecy of their operation. “I can’t be there all of the time. I’ve got t’keep up some sort of illusion here. Just-just watch her at school for me.” “Oh, she’ll love that. Being spied on.” Hopper pulls from the wall, fingers curled into fists as they press against the desk that separates them. It’s then that the boy feels as though he is being buried alive, with Hopper holding the shovel as he looms over the grave. It’s intimidating, and he feels himself shrink away, looking for a quick escape. Preparing to scale the walls of his demise. “You got a better idea?” He’s unable to find his voice at first, his lips parting to speak and nothing coming forward until he clears his throat, carving a shaken path. “Jonathan? She actually likes him,” he finishes with a heavy-hearted sigh, a look of sadness in his eyes as his arms fall to rest lazily over his torso. The officer isn't exactly the most knowledgeable when it comes to teenagers or their strange behaviors. But he isn’t blind to the clear disappointment and longing, and he uses that to his advantage, taking a softer approach to tug at his strings. “She asked about you,” he offers in a light tone, pushing himself back to give the boy the space he needed. “She asked if you were okay. Seemed worried t’me.” The boy doesn’t respond just yet, taking it all in with great caution, weary of this sudden shift after all of her verbal lashings.

But it was different now, right? Autumn had opened the door for him and given him a place of rest when he felt lost. He had pulled her from the fire at the risk of his life. Should he dare be hopeful that maybe she found a familiar security in him? Even at minimal, a tolerance. “I strongly recommend leaving your bullshit behind, kid. Get over whatever happened between you two. We’ve got bigger problems than some... ’Lovers quarrel,’” he adds with fingers raised in a quotation. He doesn’t miss the way freckled skin flushes with embarrassment, nearly shooting out of his seat to argue. “Not lovers! We never-” “Save it, kid. Are you going t’help me or what?” A steadying breath fills Steve’s chest, his foot nearly kicking at the carpeted floor as he thinks it all over. The two had barely scratched the surface of friendship—he wouldn’t even call it that just yet. The ties of their connection are still blowing in the wind, torn in two. Could he force himself into her space for her safety, but at the risk of her pushing back? He sees the face of every teacher in that school, posing as an educator but keeping a close eye on the girl as she lets her guard down behind a book. He thinks of them isolating her just as she tries to leave the class—another sedative to keep her from screaming—before carting her off without detection. Some things are worse than her anger—her annoyance and lack of understanding as he lingers at her back, so he nods. “I’ll keep her safe.”

By the time the end of Hopper’s shift comes, he’s found some form of relief. The crushing weight on his chest is lifted, but only just. Knowing she would be looked after in places he could not go gave him comfort. No, he didn’t expect Steve to rush in head-first and fend off monsters disguised as humans. A sinister gleam in their eyes and eager hands ready to snatch. But he hopes, with his presence by the girl's side, that any plans of disruption will be discouraged long enough until she’s under his watchful eye once more. But the iron that lays out across him, threatening to concave, has names for all the things he has yet to solve. Her father and the medication he forced upon his daughter. The girl named Jane, and what role did she play in all of this? What role did Autumn play? The sheriff needs more than just the camaraderie between himself and Steve, a mere boy who stumbled into this chaos by chance. Hopper seeks solace in someone familiar with the turmoil. The struggle of having their life flipped on its head. So when the sun sets just over the horizon, leaving a glow to spread through the evening, he finds himself standing at the Byers’ front door, taking in the calm as all seems to stand still behind the door. Joyce had pulled the newspaper from the windows, now pulling the curtains shut to hide from anyone too nosey to get a look at the undead boy. He would have thought it empty if it weren’t for the glow of a lamp and a sudden clattering followed by, “Shit.” A smirk graces his features, knuckles tapping against the wood, and he imagines the look of surprise on Joyce’s face. “One second!” She calls back.

The ruckus inside continues as she sets things down in a hurry; the click of an undone lock is heard just before she peers out through the crack. Light shines on his face, a low "Hi" drifting through the cold air. “Hopper,” she calls in surprise, now pulling the door back to welcome him inside. “I’m so happy t’see you,” she states with a shuddering voice, shoulders hunched as she fights the breeze that slips through before the door can close. “Things just... it all just got crazy, and..." she pauses, arms crossed over her torso for further warmth. She seems almost embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. Teetering back and forth until the words finally come through. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” The man makes a face of confusion at her apology, amused by her seemingly scattered priorities. “You just got your boy back, and you’re worried about a phone call?” Of course, she was. He could see the guilt in doe eyes as they looked up at him. Together, they had marched through the devil's door and made it out alive. She thought of him daily. Where he had gone and if he was okay. Her days were long and dragging, filled with exhaustion as Will cried in the night, seeking comfort from his nightmares. Her body was too tired to reach for the phone, but she took the sight of his SUV in town as something positive. “It’s fine, Joyce,” he reassures with a smile—one that she returns in full.

Hopper gives himself a moment to drink in the changes in her home. The hole was still boarded, and clutter had been cleaned up from the floor after the monster's attack. One thing he noticed above all else was a lack of multi-colored lights that once hung in his face. Instead, they lay dim inside a box, ready to be stored away. “Not leaving those up for Christmas?” he teases. “I don’t want to see those lights for the rest of my life.” They find happiness together, laughing in unison as if the horrors they experienced didn’t loom over their backs. “You got any suggestions for that?” She turns to gesture towards the still-painted wall—letters once serving a purpose, now an ugly memory as they stain the paper. He wants to make another joke to keep the air light, but a new presence creeps in, dressed in pajamas with damp hair clung to his forehead. Will stands in the doorway, eyes wide with surprise and the slightest hint of a smile, though faltering. An innocent and tormented mind thinks of only bad news—nothing good to come from the hero who stands in his home. “Hiya, kid,” the man states with a softened grin, noting the apprehension. “Just wanted t’come check on you and your mom. See if you guys need anything.” Hazel eyes shift towards his mother, finding comfort in her brilliant smile. “He’s going to help me put up new wallpaper.” Hopper laughs in return, a deep chuckle echoing through the small home to lift low spirits, though their weight is too much to carry. “I did not say that.” Will remains distant with a hesitant grin, not yet full, as he's forever haunted by the shadows he ran from. Not confident enough to face the man who pulled him from death's grip, gratitude was left unheard on his tongue as he slipped back down the hallway. Hopper waits before he speaks, hearing the click of his bedroom door before asking in a hushed voice, "How is he?" Joyce takes a breath, letting a hard sigh fall through, no matter the reassurance in her expression. Not wanting to worry anyone with her stress or troubles as they adjust back into normal life. "Oh, he's, y'know, as good as he can be. He's still really shaken up. Not-not really himself yet."

With a gaze still locked on the now empty doorway, he hums in acknowledgment. “It’ll take some time,” he speaks in a gentle, reassuring tone, watching as her fingers curl up around the fabric over her chest with anxiousness. “Yeah, I know.” His focus is shifting, mind slowly tearing itself in two as he debates himself over the reason for coming here. To bury his burden and drag his feet through the mud, or to risk the need for some relief by unleashing that weight for someone else to carry. Joyce was in her own world—her own mess. It’s selfish to ask for her ear and her support. Fingers press into closed eyes as if the arguing voices shattered every nerve, leaving him distressed. He’ll bid his “Goodbye’s” and apologize for interrupting her evening by slipping out that front door and into the dark. But she holds on—a gentle touch to his arm with sweet words to ask, “What’s wrong?” The walls come crumbling down—Joyce breaking through with little effort, ready to pull him from the prison he keeps himself in. “We need t’talk,” he says, just low enough for only her to hear. Together, the pair slip out the front door with a freshly lit cigarette between their fingers, Joyce watching as the officer paces across her porch, spilling his guts and theories over the wooden planks. Both are unaware of the boy creeping out from the shadows, leaving his ear pressed to the door to take in their secrets.

[daxwritesstories]

New Nails

[A/N]: A little Ace and Cyra hypnosis drabble. Short read, ~1.3K words.

Cyra was in the middle of responding to one of her fans on twitter when Ace sat down on the ottoman, directly across from where Cyra was sitting on the couch. She knew what this meant. Ace wanted her full attention right away. 

Cyra immediately turned off her phone and set it down next to her. She looked at the femme but he wasn’t looking back at her, staring down at one of his hands instead.

“I got new nails today,” he said. He then held his hand out for Cyra to see. “Do you like them?”

A jolt of excitement shot up Cyra’s body and her face lit up as she got a closer look at the acrylics. Taking a risk, she gently put her hand under Ace’s fingers and pulled them closer. It turned out to be a safe move. Ace let her pull his hand right up to her face. He waited patiently for her response.

“They’re so pretty!” Cyra exclaimed. “And… so intricate. How did you get such a thin spiral pattern?”

Satisfied with the praise, Ace snatched his hand away. “I found a new nail tech and she’s a genius.”

Cyra sat back and fought the urge to try grabbing him again. Instead she fidgeted with her hands as she waited for Ace to continue. He was definitely going somewhere with this. It wasn’t normal for him to randomly fish for compliments from Cyra, she gave him enough already on her own free will. The anticipation about where this was leading made Cyra squirm and fidget.

“Anxious about something?” Ace asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

“You’re fidgeting.”

“Oh, um…” Cyra trailed off, trying to come up with an explanation. She didn’t want to rush Ace, or make him think that she was trying to rush him. Thankfully, Ace came up with an answer for her.

“You’re wondering why I’m showing you my nails?” It sounded like a question but it wasn’t. Cyra knew better.

“I usually have to ask to see them,” Cyra agreed.

Ace smiled and examined his nails again. Cyra wondered what he was thinking about. Was he thinking about her? Did he ever think about her? Those were questions she never had the answers to.

“I’m going to teach you something, Cyra,” Ace explained. “I thought it would be easier for you to learn if you had something pretty to focus on. So I wanted to make sure you liked them first.”

As he spoke, Ace held up his hand in front of Cyra, slowly waving his slender fingers back and forth. They moved one after another, creating a ripple effect. A gentle wave of sparkling spirals. Cyra didn’t even have to try to focus on them, her eyes just naturally followed the movements.

“Good, you’re already fixating,” Ace praised.

Cyra let out a weak giggle. “They’re… pretty.”

“They are,” Ace agreed. “You’re going a bit wide-eyed looking at them. And you’re hardly blinking. Just so focused on how gorgeous my nails are.”

Cyra nodded in agreement. It was hard to focus on anything else.

“Your eyes are following every tiny movement I make with my fingers. And you’ll find that with each motion you’re tuning out everything else even more. Well, everything except me, of course.”

The femme’s words were all true. Everything except for Ace was quickly fading away around Cyra. The only thing that existed in her world at that moment was Ace. 

“You’re staying so focused for me,” Ace continued. “That’s good. You know that I’m the most important person in your life. That I know what’s best for you. So when I tell you to pay attention to every little sparkle and swirl, you listen. You notice the way they shine in the light. You can imagine how they would feel on the back of your tongue, how they would feel inside your throat.”

Cyra shivered. She could practically feel the light scratching and tickling sensations the nails would cause inside her. It almost made her gag and she had to swallow to relax her throat. Ace noticed this right away.

“Cyra, bring your attention back to the way my nails look,” he commanded. “Watch the way I move them. With each movement, you’ll notice your focus expanding.”

Ace flicked one of his fingers with a bit more intent than before. 

“You’re now more aware of my fingers…”

He flicked a different finger.

“My tattoos…”

Another flick.

“My skin…”

And another.

“Your focus is expanding to my entire hand. All the way down to my wrist, where the first two rows of triangles are. That’s where your focus ends.”

Cyra now knew exactly what to look at. Ace’s triangle pattern tattoos began right below his palm and the second row ended half an inch below that. And she could have told you that without even looking.

“Good, Cyra. Your gaze is exactly where I need it and it will not move until this lesson is finished. Pay very close attention to what my hand does here.” 

Ace slowly but deliberately brought his thumb up to meet his index finger. He then curled the rest of his fingers around his thumb, the tips of his long acrylics just barely tapping the skin. His wrist twisted ever-so-slightly until the inside was facing him. Then he relaxed his hand before repeating the motion. He repeated it a couple more times and Cyra watched carefully.

“Notice how each of my fingers curl,” Ace instructed. “Notice how my wrist turns and where it stops. Notice the speed of this motion. These are all very important things that I need you to remember for me.”

Ace kept doing the gesture over and over again. Cyra couldn’t take her eyes off of it. Even though it was such a simple movement, there were so many subtle details to look at. 

“When you see me do this with my hand, you will not be able to speak until I say your name,” Ace said. “In fact, if you were planning on saying something before you see me do this.”

Ace repeated the motion yet again.

“You will forget what you were going to say. And you will not be able to remember it, even after I say your name. I will repeat this one more time. When you see me -and only me- do this with my hand…”

He did the motion again.

“You will not be able to speak and you will forget what you were going to say, if you were going to say anything at all. When I, and no one else, just when I say your name, you will be able to speak again. Nod if you understand.”

Cyra felt herself nod.

“Perfect!” Ace praised. “Now, you may return your focus to normal in three… two… one.”

Cyra leaned back and glanced around the room. It wasn’t long before her attention went back to Ace though. It was just natural for her to stare at him.

“Do you remember what I said?” Ace questioned.

“Mostly..” Cyra replied, still a bit dazed.

“Can you repeat it to me?”

“I’m–” Cyra immediately closed her mouth when Ace quickly curled his fingers around his thumb, flicking his wrist a bit to the side. Cyra didn’t even try to speak again. She couldn’t remember what she was going to say anyway.

Ace’s expression remained unreadable. He was definitely observing her but it was impossible to tell what he was watching for or if she was doing what he wanted.

After a long moment of silence, the femme spoke again. “You were saying, Cyra?”

“Um.. I forgot.” Cyra couldn’t help but giggle. It wasn’t often that she lost her train of thought so when it did happen she found it amusing.

Ace smiled at her, seeming pleased about something.

[lesbocs]

ROUND 1 POLL 9

MARIYAM BASKERVILLE (she/they) (@upvote)

"hiii!!! this is a character from a horror rpg maker game series that perhaps one day i will make.

mary is a poor pathetic meow meow final girl who has doomed the narrative itself. she has the ability to see anomalies (ghosts, demons, spirits, etc-- basically anything supernatural) but nobody believes her. she's a student at an all girl's catholic school in rural ohio in a vaguely post-apocalyptic timeline who is relentlessly bullied by her peers for being weird and neurodivergent and she has a sucky home life so all around she's having a terrible time. she's kind of eccentric and super into the occult, which in the good catholic town of woolwick is not accepted at all. her only ally is her older brother, callum, who she is very dependent upon but he apparently runs away from home shortly after a fight between the two of them. (it's a misunderstanding, he has his own demon stuff going on) and she's left in her senior year of high school feeling like shit.

so yeah life hates her and she hates life back. but !!! her solution to her very vitriolic misanthropy and unhappy circumstances is to open a portal to hell and allow her fucked up town to be consumed by it. on devil's night (the night before halloween, where kids play pranks and throw toilet paper at houses and etc) she sets her plan into motion and manages to find her way into getting roped up in the hijinks of a group of misfits (all students her age at the catholic girls school and all wlw and most of them are pretty nice actually) and horror game shit ensues with her getting involved in too because she's just a strange beast motivated by years and years of resentment and didn't really plan shit out… but she survives in the true end yay ^__^ sort of. schrodinger's cat girl.

she plays a vaguely overarching antagonistic role in the series over all but her intentions slowly become more benign as the story progresses… also she develops weird homoerotic enemies to allies to friends to STABS YOU IN THE BACK relationships with two of the other girls in the cast. idk mary is just a silly quirky trans autistic lesbian and yes she wants to destroy the whole world in her grief for her brother and the life she never had but she looked cute doing it!!!"

you can learn more about them here! (art for mariyam by pommeplisa on twitter)

-----

XENIA (she/her) (@mossboss030)

"She's my D&D character, the first one to reach level 20. She had amnesia when I created her and worked in a fighting pit because she was very big and strong. She killed her boss when he made a pass at her and then began her life as a mercenary when she had to leave town. Over the course of the campaign she found out that she was half troll, that her father (the troll) was killed by an adventurer, that her mother had traded her to a devil for a new kid that was fully human, that she was turned into a demon that killed a lot of people (including her mother and replacement). She took that all in stride I think, killing several dragons, dying once and coming back as a demon again that the party had to fight, looking like her actual half-troll self when she came back and meeting the two loves of her life. She later became a full devil after befriending a devil in the campaign and plans on usurping Asmodeus as King of the Hells one day but for right now is enjoying retirement with her two wives. She fought with a big maul and was a multi-class of barbarian and fighter and she was the second smartest person in the party behind the wizard and the ranger's animal companion (a ferret). She adopted (bought) two babies in the city of brass because she felt bad that they'd been abandoned. She also briefly dated two villains in the campaign and tried to date another one but it didn't work out. In conclusion, she's a 6'9" trans butch lesbian, vote for her!"

you can learn more about her here!

[tacticalhimbo]

HOME IS WHAT ME MAKE IT; NOT WHAT IT'S DESIGNED TO BE

WORDS: 2.2K

FANDOM(S): Fallout 3

WARNINGS: Mothership Zeta spoilers, Mentions of Major Character Death, Themes of Isolation and Homesickness

NEOCITIES MIRROR

Now that we got that a-okay, I wanted to post the fic I wrote for the War Never Changes Fallout Fan Zine! [ Official Twitter ]

This zine was started by Chunklet with the goal of uniting the Fallout fandom in fundraising for the PCRF (Palestine Children's Relief Fund) ... and BOY DID IT WORK. The amount of pre-orders for the physical copy* were huge, and IIRC... totaled over $10k USD !!!!!

* Idk when digital pre-orders will start, but they will soon I'd imagine! Right now all the manufacturing stuff is being done :}

But with that said, here's a post-canon piece about my Lone Wanderer and one of my favorite side characters <3

Things could not have been any weirder. Genuinely! It was bad enough hearing whispers amidst the snow fallen camps about bright, blue lights lurking about the night sky. But to see them? To feel the tingling warmth radiating off of them? That was one thing. Feeling your muscles turn to mush, then waking up some hundreds of years later was another. And it. Was. Terrifying. Panic set into frozen bones. Eyes scanned the vicinity to land upon similar pods with very dissimilar folk. The one that’d stuck out most to Elliott, besides the young child who only just reached hip height, was what appeared to be another. A young person who claimed to be from the remnants of D.C., and seemed just as lost as he was.

But they, along with the others, made it through hell together. They fought off the strange spacemen. They navigated Mothership Zeta, or at least that was what they’d dubbed it, and took control of its helm. They, effectively, saved Earth. Then, one by one, they went their merry ways. Some of them had, anyway.

Paulson, the man who’d lost his wife and boy and came from a time long before them, found himself in the Capital Wastes as a daring desperado—well, truthfully he’d found himself bounty hunting. Going after the real daring desperados of the wastes and protecting innocent folk who found themselves outside settlement walls. A real noble cause. Somah, one of the first people the lone wanderer came across, found herself eager to return to the wastes. Space life wasn’t for her, and she had other obligations which needed attending to. What they were was unclear, but whatever it was, the lone wanderer never came across her again. And then there were those that stayed. Toshiro Kago, the samurai, had remained on Mothership Zeta, as it was an odd place of comfort. Generational differences aside, the lone wanderer and he had built a steadfast bond through steady communication, with their own dialect of Japanese just understandable enough to mesh with his. So, he’d figured staying with Elliott would be his safest bet, if the stories they swapped were anything to go by. Sally, the younger child of the bunch, also stayed with Elliott aboard the starship. It was safer among the stars, and she couldn’t deny the awestruck wonder that’d washed over her once she’d seen how unique the technology aboard was. Plus, if parts needed fixing, and they were lodged in some vent… There was no way one of the adults would be able to reach it. It was like a game, a jovial task that her—and her alone—could complete. Then there was the lone wanderer. Tomo was their name. Otsune Tomo. A peculiar individual with an even more intriguing past. Supposedly born in one of those vaults, then forced out by circumstance at the meek age of 19. Traveling alone across the remnants of Washington and its surrounding areas, all to find their father, who’d suffered a horrendous fate shortly after their reunion. A real tragic case, but a real trooper nonetheless. They’d briefly returned to the wastes to finish what they’d started, but as soon as they were fitted with a clean bill of health, they’d returned to the crash site where it all began.

And Elliott couldn’t have been happier.

The two would talk for hours, with Tomo catching the pre-War soldier up on everything going on below. Likewise, Elliott would tell them all about the different things he’s seen hovering above Earth, and all about the skeleton crew’s shenanigans. Yet the more and more he’d heard about life down below, he realized that maybe he’d like to go back. To feel the irradiated soil under his boots and breathe in the sights of the places he’d traveled to whilst under the government’s payroll. He was homesick, and terribly so. So one day, whilst Toshiro and Sally studied the view from the port, Elliott decided to broach the topic whilst Tomo inspected their Pip-Boy for notes they’d taken.

“Say… You ever, y’know, miss your home? I mean, I know you and your vault left off on some pretty bad terms, but… surely ya miss it, right?”

Brown eyes peered past the flickering display.

“Of course I do. Why?”

A pause. Hesitance lingering in his tone.

“Well, I… I know things ain’t the same down there. But with the boys gone and this,” he gestured around them vaguely, voice softening, “being all I have left of them… I think I miss home.”

The words struck Tomo hard enough for them to abandon their search and set the Pip-Boy down on the console beside them. They’d known that feeling more than anything. The only relic of their vault life was, frankly, the very device they’d just set aside. That, and the subtle inking that sat below their shirt collar. A permanent remnant of the trouble they’d get into with Amata in their earlier teen years. A permanent etching of the very thing that, beyond the realm of the vault, kept their mother so near. XXI: VI. 21:6. ‘I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end…’ They could still hear the reverence in their father’s voice as he’d recited the passage to them; it sunk their heart. Wordlessly, they sat forward and set a gentle hand on Elliott’s arm.

“I just don’t know what I’d do. I mean, I got Sally to take care of now, and I ain’t really familiar with D.C. I’d been, but I got no way of knowing how to get back to my home. Oklahoma’s a pretty far trek, and there’s no transport system. Least you ain’t said there were… It probably isn’t even safe there anymore, anyway.” He sighed. “I just… I want to do the right thing by her, y’know?”

“I know.” They patted his arm, nodding. “I know people that Sally could stay with. They’d keep her safe, and she’d be able to access tech that’s… less advanced than this, but it’d be new all the same.”

“Really? You’re sure?” Enthusiasm trickled back to him; revitalized his hope in things. Tomo smiled. “I’m sure. I’ve told you about them, the Brotherhood? They’re the ones that helped me do… everything. Saved me after that deal with the Enclave; saved me again, when I’d activated the Purifier. They’ve got children, too. It’s the safest place she could be.”

“Yeah—yeah, I remember ya sayin’ something about them. Alright. Yeah. When do we head out?”

[…]

The air was stiff when boots hit the ground. A burning sensation wracking the soldier’s lungs as he’d breathed in the lingering radiation for the first time. It hit Sally, too, bringing about a series of surprised coughs which immediately caught the wanderer’s attention. They stopped and crouched to her level, setting a gentle hand on her back to offer a series of steady pats. Around them, Brotherhood soldiers simply continued on their ways, some breaking off to enter the surrounding wings whilst others loitered about.

“I’m okay!” She chirped, taking a deep breath and exhaling to relieve any unease. “It’s not so bad, right?”

A nod. “There are some areas that are still heavily irradiated,” Tomo began. “But many of them are liveable. If you start to feel sick while Elliott and I are gone, I want you to talk to Dr. Li, okay? She’ll help you.”

“Is she nice?”

“Of course. But she’s busy, too. If she can’t help you, then look for Sarah. She’s a very close friend of mine.” There was hesitation on Sally’s face; it didn’t escape Tomo. So they leaned in and grinned. “Want to know a secret about Sarah?”

An enthusiastic gasp, and Sally leaned in too.

“Sarah is the Elder’s daughter. If you ask her nicely… she might show you some of the cool technology they’ve collected.”

“Woah! Really?” Sally beamed and drew back, rocking on her heels.

“Really. Now, we won’t be gone too long, yeah? A couple of days at most, since it’s a bit of a hike to D.C.” Tomo offered a reassuring look as they stood. Sally gave them an enthusiastic wave and sped off to explore all that she could. Like her, the remaining duo quickly prepped their gear and set off on adventure.

The ruins of D.C. still stood before them; still towered over the desecrated streets below. They, too, had their own scarring from the event to end it all, but they stood. And that fascinated Elliott. Blue eyes were wide with wonder as he could point out and recall everything as it was some two-hundred plus years ago. Detail to Tomo how pristinely white the monuments were, their contours shining amidst a blue sky and green grass. Now, they were much duller. Blending in to an almost invisible degree, if not for their sheer size. It was a troublesome sight for the former medic; one that quickly humbled that otherworldly wonder and soured it. Home wasn’t all it was meant to be, it’d seemed, and if a resourceful city like this could be reduced to atoms… He shivered at the thought of what little ol’ Stillwater would look like. And Tomo noticed the shudder, watching as he’d stepped forward and parked himself on the seats of the Museum of Technology. Flushed cheeks puffed as one came to rest on the palm of his hand, elbow balancing on his knee as he’d slumped forward. The exhaustion from walking through the downtown area was more than enough to prompt the gesture, though something more was clearly weighing on him. Tomo lingered on their feet, shifting their weight from side to side as they watched blond locks fall into the man’s face.

“It really is all gone, ain’t it?” He uttered. “‘sides the little bits you can find rummagin’ the rubble.”

“It… has been a while.” They started hesitantly. “But that doesn’t mean everything’s gone.”

Elliott peeked. “How’d’ya figure? Look at it. It’s… I mean, I guess because this was the center of America back in the day, it makes sense it’d be the most impacted. But even when you’re up in the stars, you can’t hardly see nothin’ anymore. It’s all so… empty.” The wanderer found themselves parked beside them, shimmying off their backpack and rummaging about to produce two bottles of Aqua Pura. They extended one to Elliott, who’d accepted it without a second thought. The gesture brought a small smile to their lips, a lithe elbow coming to nudge his side.

“What—”

“That’s proof that not everything’s gone. All the irradiated water people were drinking before…” They paused, biting back the memories that the train of thought conjured; the sacrifices it took to produce that bottle. “The point is, just because things as you knew it were gone doesn’t mean everything has to stay gone. For decades, people looked at my father like he had three heads. Purifying all the water in D.C.? That was pure imagination. But now, people have it in their hands.”

Confusion sprawled across the man’s features, though a spark of recognition ignited in his gaze. Tomo smiled a little more, continuing.

“It’s tough to get used to, I know. When I first left the vault, I thought things were hopeless. That I’d never find my dad, or that I’d die out here because I had no idea what I was doing. But then I found Megaton, and the people inside it. I found Moira, and Simmons, and even Moriarty, even though he’s kind of…”

“A jerk?”

“Yeah, a jerk. But he still led me to Three Dog, and to Sarah. And they led me to my dad. People out here are different than they were before the war… probably…” They spared a glance and Elliott gave a lighthearted shrug. They were; they weren’t. “But at the end of the day, they just want the same things: Safety and community—to belong somewhere. And many of them are more than willing to put the effort in to build it; to rebuild the remnants.”

“Makin’ them something new?”

“Exactly.”

A slow sigh escaped Elliott as he fidgeted with the bottle in his hands. Back and forth he’d moved it, opting to adjust his posturing and lean back against the steps as the bottle moved from hand to hand; as the water within it sloshed quietly and rhythmically. “It still hurts.”

A pause.

“… It’s going to, for a while.” A quiet affirmation, followed by a gentle hand coming to rest on Elliott’s arm. “It’s not easy admitting how different things are.”

A hand abandoning the bottle of water, and opting to reach across and rest upon the other’s. A friendly gesture; an acknowledgment of the homesickness that still shook their cores.

“And that’s what community’s for, yeah?” He smiled, eyes once more bright with motivation.

Tomo mirrored his smile. “Exactly. Now, you want to see if that exhibit’s still running? I’d be amazed if it was, but considering I accidentally triggered it when I’d gone in to retrieve that piece for Three Dog…”

And with that, the duo were on their feet and off again. Off again, with the realization that neither of them were truly lost in the hellish world around them, they both just needed to find someone who’d understood what it was like to live and lose. Someone who, like them, had hope in the future that lay ahead.

[wren-of-the-woods]

Geralt pulls over to help a man whose car has broken down and finds that he has accidentally rescued his daughter's favorite musician. A few days later, Ciri gets a wonderful birthday surprise.

Geraskier, 5k. Also on AO3!

Geralt was, as usual, thinking about Ciri.

There was not much else to do as he drove down the highway; the trip to pick his daughter up from her friend's house was long and dull. At the moment, Geralt had an excellent reason to think about Ciri even more than he usually did. Her birthday approaching at a terrifyingly fast pace. It was the first birthday she would have as Geralt's adopted daughter, and he desperately wanted it to be as happy as possible.

Ciri had already lost so much in her short almost-fourteen years of life. Geralt knew she loved him, but he couldn't help but feel that he was not doing enough for her. He did not know if he could ever be an adequate parent for a such bright and lively young girl. He knew, though, that he would do almost anything to make her happy. The realization thrilled him as much as it terrified him.

Ciri often spoke with fond longing of the extravagant birthday celebrations her grandmother had thrown for her, so Geralt wanted her to experience joy like that again. He had to figure out how to give her the best birthday he could.

Geralt thought the best way to achieve this would be to ask what his daughter wanted. Unfortunately, it seemed that his question had been far too open-ended.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” he had asked.

“Can it be anything?” she said, eyes widening in that way Geralt could never resist.

“Anything.”

“I want to meet Dandelion!” she said with a grin. Geralt suppressed a groan.

Dandelion was her favorite musician. She listened to him constantly, while doing everything from reading to homework to drawing to staring out the window. She asked to play his songs nearly every time she was in the car with Geralt. Hardly a day went by without one of his songs getting stuck in Geralt’s head.

Geralt would go to the ends of the earth for his daughter, but he didn’t think any amount of dedication could get Ciri a private meeting with a quickly-rising pop star.

He tried his very best but had no luck. All of Dandelion’s concert cost so much more than Geralt could afford that it was ridiculous to even contemplate going, in addition to at least being several days’ drive away. Geralt went as far as finding Dandelion’s manager’s Twitter account in the hopes he could somehow ask for the singer to call her briefly, but nothing looked promising. None of Dandleion’s PR team seemed like they would respond to a message from a single father who couldn’t pay them. After a long evening’s research, he was forced to give up the idea.

So now Geralt was here, whiling away the long drive to pick Ciri up from her friend’s house by trying to think of anything he could do for her birthday that might live up to both her hopes and his ideals of parenthood. He was so distracted, in fact, that he nearly didn’t notice the man waving his arms on the side of the road.

The man was standing beside a car that was pulled over. His colorful, once-neat outfit was thoroughly disheveled, and he looked desperate as he shouted something Geralt couldn’t hear.

Geralt slowed, pulled over, and rolled down his window. “What’s wrong?”

“Thank you so much,” the man said the moment Geralt’s window opened. “Nobody else would stop for me. I just fought with my best friend and my phone is dead and my car broke down and I’m running late to an important appointment and I would really, really appreciate it if you could give me a lift? It can just be to the next town, or maybe until my phone is charged if you have something I can use?”

Geralt thought about refusing. It was probably unwise to let a total stranger into his car, and he was already almost late to pick Ciri up. On the other hand, the man looked so desperate and sad and earnest that it seemed cruel to even think about turning him away.

After so many months of raising a thirteen-year-old girl, Geralt should have been immune to the power of enormous, pleading eyes. He was not.

He opened his car door. “Get in.”

The stranger blinked. “Wait, really?”

Geralt huffed. “Do you want me to change my mind?”

“Please don’t!” The man darted back to his own car for a moment to grab a backpack and presumably dead phone from the passengers’ seat.

“Don’t worry,” said Geralt, somewhat amused at the way the colorful man nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get his things. He clambered in next to Geralt and pulled the door shut quickly, as though afraid Geralt might actually change his mind and throw him bodily out of the car.

“Thank you so, so much,” gushed Geralt’s new companion. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stopped. This means the world.”

Geralt grunted. The praise made him feel strangely uncomfortable. “It’s fine.”

He pulled back onto the highway and continued driving.  

“What’s your name, by the way?” said his passenger. “It’s fine if you’d rather I didn’t know. I understand. I’m just curious about the man who completely saved my day, is all.”

Geralt frowned a little. The man’s voice sounded oddly familiar when he spoke like this. He was sure he’d never seen his face before, though, so Geralt put the thought out of his mind.

“Geralt,” he said after a moment, answering the question.

“Ah, perfect! A wonderfully heroic name for my wonderful hero.” The man was grinning now, looking frankly too happy for someone who was recently stranded on the side of the road. “I’m Jaskier!”

Geralt grunted, unable to figure out how to respond, grunted. He didn’t think he’d ever received so many compliments per minute in his life.

“Where were you going?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

The man — Jaskier — replied with the name of a town. Geralt frowned. Taking Jaskier there would add half an hour to Geralt’s drive, but based on the state Jaskier had managed to end up in earlier, Geralt had a feeling he might somehow get himself killed on the way if Geralt simply left him at a bus station. He sighed. He didn’t particularly want murder on his conscience, nor did he want to worry about this strange man any more than he had to.

"I'll drop you off there," he said before he could change his mind.

Jaskier's grin widened. He looked genuinely delighted. "Oh my god, you really are a superhero in disguise, aren't you?"

"No,” said Geralt, feeling oddly defensive. “Just a decent human being."

"Tell that to all the people who drove right past me without stopping," said Jaskier. "I was there for nearly half an hour."

Geralt didn't know what to say to that. True to form, he therefore said nothing.

“I should call a tow truck for you,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, yes. That would probably be wise.”

Eventually, Geralt arranged everything so that Jaskier’s car would be repaired. He sighed in relief. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments before Jaskier cleared his throat and spoke up.

“So, what is a handsome fellow like you doing out here?”

Geralt held back a sigh. He hated small talk. He couldn’t bring himself to ignore Jaskier after the day he must have had, though, so he forced himself to answer the question.

"I'm going to pick up my daughter. She's at a friend's house."

“Oh god, you have a daughter? I was just thinking you couldn’t get any more perfect. It seems I was wrong. How old is she?”

Geralt was suddenly grateful that he was driving and had an excuse not to meet Jaskier’s eyes. Such enthusiastic praise made him feel wrong-footed.

“Almost fourteen,” he grunted, ignoring the rest of Jaskier’s words.

“Oh, a teenager! What fun. I hope she’s more well-behaved than I was at that age,” Jaskier said with a laugh.

“She’s much better than I was,” said Geralt. He couldn’t help but sound fond; Ciri was the brightest part of his life, after all. “I’m very lucky to have her.”

“I’m sure she thinks the same,” said Jaskier. “You seem like an excellent father.”

“Hmm. Thank you.” Geralt winced internally at his own awkwardness. Why did one person being nice to him throw him so off-balance?

Jaskier seemed to notice something of Geralt’s discomfort, because the car descended into slightly awkward, silence for the next several minutes. Geralt kept his eyes on the road, trying to recenter himself after this whole exchange.

Once again, Jaskier spoke first.

“You’re doing me a huge favor, you know,” he said earnestly. “Let me repay you for this.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I insist.”

“No.”

“You just took hours out of your day to help some random stranger you found on the side of the road. The least I can do is give you something in return.”

“I don’t want your money. What else could you give me?”

“I’ll think of something.”

Silence fell again.  Jaskier leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes with a small sigh. When Geralt glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he looked so tired and worn all of a sudden that Geralt felt a little ache in his chest. He spoke before he had time to think it through.

“You fought with a friend?”

Jaskier’s eyes opened.

“Yeah,” he said, and Geralt discovered that he did not like hearing sadness in this man’s voice.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Geralt held back a grimace at his own awkwardness.

Jaskier sighed again. For a moment, Geralt thought he was going to ignore the question, but Jaskier took a deep breath and started to speak.

“I thought we were good,” he murmured. “I thought we were close. I thought we would be friends forever. Then he stopped returning my calls unless I happened to try the exact right time, and before I knew it I hadn’t seen him in person for months. I know he’s busy with his own projects, but he could have at least tried to find time for me. I did it for him.” He huffed in frustration. “So I went to his place to try to talk to him, but he didn’t like me showing up with no warning even though he used to do that to me all the time. He yelled at me. Said some things I don’t know if I can forget.”

Geralt, once again, had no idea what to say. He hoped his silence did not feel insulting. Jaskier didn’t seem to mind.

“I hate this,” Jaskier continued. “I put so much effort into that relationship, and he blew me off like it was nothing. I was still trying to collaborate with him. I have projects that I need to figure out how to do without him now. I tried so hard and it didn’t work. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did.”

Geralt was very out of his depth. He hummed, hoping it at least sounded sympathetic. Jaskier closed his eyes again.

“I feel so small, sometimes. Like nothing I do will ever matter. The world is big and cruel and I’m so insignificant. All I want to do is make someone happy. Is that too much to ask?” Jaskier’s voice was hardly more than a whisper by the end. Then he seemed to realize what he’d said and he blushed. “But you don’t want to hear a stranger ramble about all his problems. I’ll be quiet now. Better stay out of sight.” He chuckled humorlessly, turning to look out the window.

Something the way Jaskier said those last words snagged Geralt’s memory. Better stay out of sight. Geralt recognized the phrase.

He had heard Ciri hum it while she helped him wash the dishes. He’d heard her shouting it from her bedroom, singing so loud that Geralt could hear perfectly well from across the house. He’d heard it played in the car when Ciri asked to listen to her favorite band, sung by a strong voice full of feeling.

No wonder Jaskier sounded familiar.

“You’re Dandelion,” he said. “The singer.”

Jaskier drew in a surprised breath. “Yes, I am. That’s my stage name.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” said Geralt without thinking, caught off guard by the sudden swell of hope rising in his chest.

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

“I think I know a way you can repay me.”

“That was an ominously sudden change of opinion.”

“Come visit my daughter.”

Whatever Jaskeir had been about to say vanished abruptly. He looked at Geralt with wide eyes.

“She’s… a fan of yours,” said Geralt. “She asked to see you. For her birthday. But I can’t afford to take her to a show, so I told her it wouldn’t work. Didn’t think I’d end up rescuing you off the side of the road.”

“Oh! Really? That’s adorable! Of course I’ll come to visit your daughter! I’m always glad to meet a fan.” Jaskier sounded genuinely delighted.

A small smile spread unbidden across Geralt’s face. “Thank you. She’ll be thrilled.”

"Of course! When do you want to meet? I'll have to check my schedule and such but I'm sure I can make time for such a sweet request."

Geralt paused. He could, in theory, suggest bringing Jaskier with him to meet Ciri now, but Jaskier said he had somewhere important to be and Geralt didn't want to make him any later than he already was. Besides, waiting would give him time to warn Ciri ahead of time. That way, she would have time to plan what she wanted to say.

"How about next week?” Ciri’s birthday was in two weeks. Scheduling their meeting for a week before would give Geralt room to plan if anything went wrong.

“Next week is good!” said Jaskier, and that was that.

They arrived at Jaskier’s destination not long afterward, and Jaskier left after a quick exchange of contact information and a promise to text Geralt soon with scheduling details.

Geralt passed the remaining forty-five minutes of the drive feeling happier than he had in days.

~~~

“Really?” Ciri squealed. The volume and pitch that she managed to achieve was, quite frankly, a show of impressive vocal talent.

“Yeah,” said Geralt, grinning at her. “You get to meet Dandelion.”

“I can’t believe this. You found Dandelion on the side of the road? That’s insane!”

“It was very lucky.”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

Ciri was grinning so hard that Geralt wondered if it was making her cheeks hurt. Her joy was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in months.

“I’m glad you’re excited,” he said genuinely. Ciri tackled him in a hug.

After some texting back and forth with Jaskier (it made Ciri incredibly excited to discover that Geralt had Jaskier’s contact information), the time was set for the coming Saturday. All that remained was to wait.

~~~

“Geralt! Hello!” said Jaskier as soon as Geralt opened the door. He looked almost nervous, rubbing his thumb against his fingers as he shifted his weight on Geralt’s doorstep.

“Come in,” said Geralt, stepping aside to let the musician enter the house. “Thank you again for doing this.”

“You’re more than welcome!” said Jaskier, looking around Geralt’s house curiously. Geralt did his best not to feel embarrassed. He and Ciri worked hard this morning to make the place look presentable (“It has to be perfect, Dad!”) but nothing they did could hide the fact that the place was small, the furniture was rather mismatched, and the shelves were cluttered in an attempt to fit all their belongings into what space there was.

“So, where is the lovely person I’ve come to meet?” asked Jaskier, shaking Geralt out of his thoughts.

“In her room,” said Geralt. “I’ll go get her.”

Geralt fetched Ciri, watched fondly as she jumped up and down a little in nervous excitement, and accompanied her back to their living room. Jaskier visibly perked up at the sight of her.

“Hello, darling!” he said, bounding forward and holding a hand out for her to shake. “You must be Cirilla.”

“Ciri,” she said shyly, taking the offered hand and shaking it.

“Ciri,” Jaskier repeated, looking for all the world like he was trying to commit it to memory. “It’s a beautiful name!”

Ciri’s small smile grew wider. “Thank you!”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” said Geralt with a small smile. He and Ciri had planned this out beforehand — Geralt would wait in the kitchen while they spoke, letting her and Jaskier have privacy while still being able to hear most of the conversation and come back if necessary. “Would anyone like tea or coffee?”

Jaskier declined, but Ciri requested tea, so Geralt went to prepare it.

For a moment, the other room was silent. Then Jaskier spoke up.

“So, I’m told you’ve heard my caterwauling?”

“I love your music. I listen to it all the time.”

“Thank you so much! I’m honored,” said Jaskier. Geralt could hear his grin even without being able to see his face.

“I wanted to thank you, actually,” said Ciri nervously. Geralt listened closer from the other room, prepared to intervene if necessary. Ciri had been wanting to say this to Jaskier ever since she learned she would get to meet him, and if something went wrong there was potential for an emotional disaster.

“Oh? What for?” said Jaskier.

Ciri took a deep breath. “So, um, my grandmother died a little over a year ago. She raised me. It’s been a rough year. Geralt adopted me, and he’s great! I love him, and he loves me, and I’m really glad I get to have him in my life but things have still been hard. I found your music about a month after my grandmother died and it’s helped me a lot. There’s so much life and hope to it, you know? Even when I was having a really bad day, I could listen to it and feel like maybe things might get better. There are so many bad things in the world, but there is also some good, and you helped me remember that. So. That’s why I wanted to meet you. To say thank you for everything.” She shifted awkwardly. “Um. Sorry if that was weird. You don’t know me and that might have been a lot to dump on a stranger.”

“Ciri, darling,” said Jaskier in a voice that sounded choked with emotion. “May I hug you?”

Geralt peeked into the room just in time to see Ciri nod and Jaskier envelop her in a crushing embrace. Ciri made a startled sound before hugging him back. She was hesitant at first, but her confidence grew quickly. Geralt smiled. Ciri gave good hugs.

“That was… possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Jaskiersaid quietly without breaking the embrace. “I’m so glad I could make a difference in your life. I always hope I might, but I’m never sure I manage. It means the world for you to tell me that. Thank you.” He let out a shaky breath. “And I’m truly sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

“Thank you,” said Ciri. “It’s… better, now. Time helps. Geralt helps, too.”

“I get the feeling that he’s a wonderful father,” said Jaskier with a smile.

“He really is,” said Ciri, her voice filled with what sounded like pride. Geralt was suddenly glad that no one could see him, because he was sure that whatever expression he was making was unbearably sappy.

Jaskier and Ciri moved on to talking about less serious matters, making jokes and small talk and discussing Jaskier’s music. Geralt delivered tea to Ciri and settled in the kitchen with a book, only half-listening to them now that the most emotionally difficult moments had passed.

After an hour, Jaskier reluctantly informed them that he had to leave. Ciri was disappointed, of course, but handled it gracefully. Geralt watched her say her goodbyes and walked Jaskier to the door.

“You must be proud to have such a wonderful daughter,” Jaskier said to Geralt as he stepped outside, turning back to smile at him.

Geralt smiled. “I am. Always.”

“Good. It was wonderful to meet her,” said Jaskier. “Would you tell her that? I said so earlier, but I’m not sure if she believed me.”

“I will,” said Geralt. He wondered if Jaskier knew that he was digging further into Geralt’s heart with every kindness he showed Ciri. “Thank you.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” said Jaskier with a smile. “I had an excellent time.”

“I’m glad,” said Geralt. They stood in companionable silence for a moment.

“I should probably get going before someone starts calling me,” said Jaskier with a sigh. “Thank you again for inviting me over.”

“Thank you for coming,” Geralt said. “Ciri and I appreciate it.”

Jaskier grinned. “You’re very welcome, dear heart.”

Then, with a wave and a shouted farewell, he was gone.

~~~

Geralt thought that was the last he would see of Jaskier.

For the next several weeks, the only contact he had with Jaskier was through Ciri playing his music. Geralt found himself oddly disappointed by the idea of not seeing Jaskier again, but told himself to stop being ridiculous. The fact that he was funny and kind and genuinely good with Ciri didn’t necessarily mean they could have been friends, even if the up-and-coming pop star had decided to keep in touch with a single father of limited means and even more limited social skills.

His attempts at putting Jaskier out of his mind were not as successful as he would have liked. He hoped that if he ignored this, it would go away eventually.

Then, over a month later, Geralt woke up to a text from a very familiar number.

Jaskier: hi geralt! so i know this is kind of out of nowhere, but i wrote a thing that may or may not be inspired by you and ciri and i was wondering if the two of you could listen to it and tell me if you’re all right with me showing it to anyone else and maybe putting it out there for the public? Jaskier: it’s totally fine if not, of course. i can absolutely keep it between the three of us indefinitely. Jaskier: believe it or not, i am actually capable of shutting up about some things Jaskier: though i’m not giving you very good evidence of that with all this rambling Jaskier: i’m just gonna send the files now

The next two messages were audio files. Geralt fumbled for his earbuds and started the first track.

Thirty seconds into the song, Geralt already liked it. It was in Jaskier’s normal pop-adjacent style, upbeat and energetic, but the lyrics were more poetic than was usual. It was about unexpected kindness, he thought, and he could easily see the connection to their acquaintance despite the lack of direct reference. The idea of having played a part in inspiring someone to write a song — Ciri’s favorite musician, no less — made something startlingly warm blossom in his chest.

He paused the music, stood, and went to find Ciri. She would certainly want to hear this.

Many delighted exclamations later, Geralt and Ciri sat side by side in front of the speaker Geralt had plugged into his phone. Geralt went back to the beginning of the first song and let it play, this time watching the expression on Ciri’s face as she listened. Her glee was contagious, and Geralt found himself enjoying the song even more than the first time. The song continued in a similar vein to what Geralt had already heard, complete with a cheery chorus that was certainly going to get stuck in Geralt’s head.

“Oh my god,” Ciri squealed when the song was done. “He really wrote a song about you. Dandelion wrote a song about you!”

“It’s not about me,” Geralt protested. “It’s just indirectly inspired by something I did.”

Ciri ignored him. “Can we listen to the next one?”

Geralt wordlessly pulled up the next file and pressed play, smiling at the excited noise Ciri made.

Immediately, Geralt could tell this one was different. It started with strumming on a lone guitar, and Jaskier’s voice was tender and full of emotion when he started to sing. The lyrics, as far as Geralt could make out, told of grief. It was unclear who or what the singer had lost, but the sadness in Jaskier’s voice made whatever it was feel all too real. Ciri’s eyes widened in shock, and Geralt had a feeling that his own expression was similar. This was definitely not what he had expected.

The chorus of the song started, and suddenly Geralt could think of nothing but the music. Other instruments joined the guitar as the tone of the song shifted. Jaskier began to sing of hope.

He sang of starlight shining through clouds on dark nights, of flowers growing through cracks in concrete, of song staving off the silence of hopeless midnight. Jaskier’s voice was filled with emotion, with light and dark and fear and hope.

By the time the song was over, Ciri’s cheeks were stained with tears

“That was beautiful,” she whispered. Geralt couldn’t help but agree.

“He wrote a song for you,” Geralt said in disbelief. “After your conversation when he came over, he wrote a song for you.”

“Fuck,” said Ciri emphatically. Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to chastise her for the language.

Geralt was grateful that this had happened on a Saturday. He and Ciri might need all day to process.

~~~

Geralt did not respond to Jaskier until much later that day, after he and Ciri had time to discuss their thoughts on Jaskier’s question. It wasn’t until after dinner that night that Geralt finally felt ready. He settled in on the sofa with Ciri sitting next to him, gathered his courage, and sent a response before he had time to overthink it.

Geralt: They’re beautiful. Geralt: You made Ciri cry, but she says it was in a good way. Geralt: She also says I shouldn’t have said that, because now you might worry about having made her cry. Geralt: She says not to worry. Geralt: She says thank you. She loved them. Geralt: I liked them too. Thank you. Geralt: You can do what you want with them, as long as there’s no personal information shared about Ciri or me.

Jaskier responded within five minutes of Geralt’s last message.

Jaskier: i’d apologize for having made your daughter cry, but i get the feeling she wouldn���t appreciate that Jaskier: i hope she’s all right, though?

Geralt: She will be. It was just more emotional than we expected.

Jaskier: ah. mission accomplished, maybe?

Geralt: Yes.

Jaskier: thank you for your permission!! I’ll keep you up to date on what’s going on, of course. and yes, definitely no personal information will be shared! Jaskier: by the way, have i thanked you yet? i was having a terrible week plus songwriters’ block and you and ciri were absolute lifesavers. Jaskier: you made me remember why I started doing this in the first place.

Geralt: I’m glad. You made our week better, too. Thank you.

Jaskier: you’re very welcome!

Thinking the conversation over, Ciri grinned up at Geralt.

“That went well!” she said.

“Yes. Do you think you can get ready for bed now?” asked Geralt.

Ciri sighed. “Fine.”

She stood and left the room, and so, fortunately for Geralt, missed the ridiculous expression on his face when he glanced at his phone to see another message waiting for him from Jaskier.

Jaskier: oh, and before i chicken out, i have something i want to ask you

Geralt was undeniably curious.

Geralt: What is it?

Jaskier: do you want to meet for dinner sometime?

Geralt drew in a surprised breath. That was unexpected.

Geralt: To talk about the songs?

Jaskier: yeah

The three dots that indicated whether Jaskier was typing appeared, disappeared, then reappeared again. Geralt was about to stop waiting and come up with his own response when, finally, another message appeared.

Jaskier: and maybe more, if you want?

Geralt’s heart stuttered a little. He sent back a reply before he could second-guess himself, nerves afire.

Geralt: Like what?

Jaskier: whatever you want Jaskier: i’d like to get to know you better if that’s all right Jaskier: i know we haven’t talked for very long but i really like you Jaskier: and ciri. she’s an absolute darling, obviously Jaskier: and so are you Jaskier: obviously Jaskier: feel free to tell me to shut up. i ramble a lot.

Geralt looked at his phone with wide eyes. Was Jaskier — his daughter’s favorite musician, and possibly the kindest and happiest man of his recent acquaintance — really interested in talking to him again? It seemed too good to be true.

Geralt: I don’t mind.

Jaskier: oh, good. Jaskier: the rambling, or the dinner?

Geralt: Both. Geralt: Neither Geralt: I mean, you’re good.

Jaskier: great!! Jaskier: maybe sometime next week?

Geralt: Okay. Geralt: My place?

Geralt knew he would feel more confident on his home turf.

Geralt: You haven’t met my dog yet.

Jaskier: aslkdjfalsdfj YOU HAVE A DOG?? Jaskier: I MUST SEE THIS Jaskier: WHY DIDN’T I KNOW ABOUT THIS

Geralt: My brother was taking her for a walk last time you were over. We didn’t want her to get in the way.

Jaskier: YOU HAVE A BROTHER?!? Jaskier: that does it. i most certainly must visit and meet your dog. Jaskier: the brother is optional but embarrassing stories are more than welcome Jaskier: sound good?

Geralt chuckled quietly at his phone screen, somehow unable to stop smiling.

Geralt: Sounds good.

They settled on a time and date. Geralt felt warm. Their acquaintance was no longer so temporary — they were, perhaps, friends. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they could become even more.

The thought made Geralt frown a little. What did Jaskier want from this? Would it be worth asking for clarification? It would likely be best to clear up any potential misunderstandings now things went very far.

Geralt hummed nervously to himself before gathering his courage and sending his next question.

Geralt: By the way, is this a date?

For a moment, there was no response. The dots indicating that Jaskier was typing appeared and stayed there for a very, very long moment.

Jaskier: It can be whatever you want it to be.

Geralt stared at the message for a moment. Jaskier was using proper punctuation and capitalization, for once. It seemed he was serious.

Geralt: First dates don’t usually involve someone’s daughter

Jaskier: eh, “usually” is boring anyway Jaskier: Unless her presence would make you or her uncomfortable, of course

Geralt thought for a few moments, then made up his mind.

Geralt: I think it’s fine. She’ll be more than happy to see you again.

Jaskier: so… it’s a date?

Geralt: Yes.

Jaskier: excellent!! see you then! <3

Geralt stared at the little heart on the screen for a moment with a silly little smile on his face. He was going to see Jaskier again. Jaskier wanted to see him again.

Geralt found himself humming as he went to find Ciri and tell her the good news. After a few moments, he realized that he was humming one of Jaskier’s new songs. His smile widened.

Perhaps that Ciri would not be the only one getting a gift next week.

[eclecticmiasma]

They'll Inherit Your Blood Ch. 1 (Pantalone x Reader)

There are fates worse than being purchased by Snezhnaya's wealthiest elite.

Now a multi-chaptered fic! [Chapter 2]

NSFW

[Warnings: afab reader, degradation, forced prostitution, threatened violence]

Art credit: @Yeoboさん on Twitter

The man is serpentine in every sense of the word. You hold your breath as his gloved fingers slither across your skin, tracing your features as if appraising a fine piece of pottery rather than a woman. He hums lightly to himself, eyes like upturned crescents as he voices his approval. His aura wraps around you and constricts.

"This one."

Gratitude drips from the madam's voice, saccharine. In less than thirty minutes her establishment has made more mora than any of the women could have hoped to see in their entire lives. Even as they offer you glances of pity, the workers can't hide their elation. Not only have they been spared a life of servitude under the Fatui, under a Harbinger no less, but their meager lives are much improved when the madam is happy. And she's never been happier.

You are escorted without fanfare to a stagecoach at the back of the decrepit building. Various trinkets and personal items you've amassed over the years are left in your second story bedroom. No doubt they will be fought over and doled out within the hour. Your eyes linger on the frosted window you so often hung out of in an attempt to feel anything- even if it was just the frigid breeze on your skin.

When you turn back to the main cabin, the Harbinger there waiting. He waits patiently, door held for you, same unflappable smile plastered to his face.

Reluctantly, you enter, crossing your legs as you sit upon black crushed velvet. To your dismay, the Harbinger squeezes in next to you. Though you try to make your body small, there is no escape. His presence is suffocating.

As the stagecoach starts to move, you keep your eyes glued to the floor. The wooden slats gleam as if they've been polished recently, perhaps for your arrival. Resentment bubbles up. Just what about this man begets that everything is to be a show? So he bought himself a whore, does that too deserve such royal treatment?

In your brooding, you barely notice that the man is touching you. He's leaned close, breath ghosting across your cheek. His fingers twirl a few strands of your hair as he merely looks on, observing.

"You're unaware of your worth," His voice is deep, but lilting. Your brows furrow as you consider his words, vague anger continuing to build. What worth? The worth you have lies in the last man to purchase your time. There's more value in the glittering white jewel atop the Harbinger's cane than there is in you.

You try to mask a shudder as his hands wander, fingers dancing down your chest. Even though you refuse to meet his eyes, you can see them clearly boring down on you. Pupils like slits as they take in their property. As he closes in on your neck, you brace yourself. His fangs are bared, he's ready to strike-

The Harbinger doesn't sink his teeth into your skin, he presses his lips to the pulsating flesh of your jugular and squeezes your clothed breast. You can't help but breathe in his scent, a lightly spiced aroma with a hint of bergamot and something metallic, like the concentrated smell of mora itself.

"There are clients all over the world who will be fighting hand over fist for your to warm their beds," You swallow hard as he continues massaging your chest, kissing his way up your neck and pressing his nose against your ear.

"Clients?" You find yourself asking against your better judgement, though your voice sounds small. You feel the Harbinger grin against your ear. Before he answers you he drags his tongue along the outer shell. Your breathing hitches when his hand slides under your bodice, one of the rings he wears catching your pert nipple.

"Yes, prelest*, do you think I clean out my coffers without the intention of making a profit?" Though the air around you is thick with tension, the Harbinger carries on exploring your body, twirling his tongue in the opening of your ear and nipping every so often at your earlobe, "Though, you'll have to be much more engaged than this if I'm to see a return on my investment."

You're well aware of his subtle nudge to open yourself up, to let him have his way with you and prove yourself valuable, but you can't bring yourself to move. It's too difficult to breathe. Belonging to the Harbinger is a prospect terrifying enough, but to be sold over and over to the men that would deign to partake in his business dealings is more than a single woman can bear.

"I...don't..." You don't realize you're crying until a thumb drags across your cheek. For the first time you turn to look at the man, it's like coming face to face with death itself. His pupils aren't slits, you find, but they're narrowed all the same. Deep indigo irises the color of a darkening sky glow with delight as he soaks in your fear. The corners of his lips are permanently pulled in a genial grin, so much so that you wonder if you aren't peering at a mask. Another thumb joins the first and the pair trace your cheekbones as the Harbinger sighs.

"There's another habit we'll have to break you of, it seems," You try to pull your face away, but he's managed to lock your head between his palms with an iron grip. Fear that should have settled in your bones the moment you met him finally starts to rear its head, "Name a single man that would want to bed such a haughty, sniveling little slut."

He waits, expression ever still. Fresh tears fall as you continue to try to wrestle out of his grasp. You know he expects an answer, but the words die in your throat.

"You left the whorehouse mere minutes ago, have you already forgotten your place?" You shake your head violently, but continue to push and prod in an attempt to get away. The man is deceptively strong. He sighs again, jewels tinkling softly against his glasses as he shakes his head.

"No matter..." He somehow manages to smile wider, baring his teeth in delight, "...training is one of my specialties."

*precious

*do not edit or re-upload without permission. please consider reblogging as mature content is often buried by Tumblr!

[Chapter 2] [RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[bestiarium]

Humbaba [Akkadian/Mesopotamian mythology]

In ancient Akkadian mythology, the pantheon of gods lived in a magical and sacred cedar forest. This mystical place was protected by a mighty creature called Humbaba (Huwawa in the Babylonian version), who was appointed as the forest’s guardian by the deity Enlil. In modern interpretations, the creature is sometimes called an ogre or a demon.

Humbaba was thought to be undefeatable, for not only was he a physically powerful giant, he was also clad in 7 magical radiances (called ‘auras’ in some translations) that protected the fearsome creature. He was a giant, humanlike creature with a strange face that resembled the entrails of a slain animal (which, if I understand it correctly, was a reference to the Mesopotamian practice of ‘reading’ the guts of animals to find omens. In addition, if the entrails happened to resemble the pattern on Humbaba’s face, this was considered a specific omen). His hands ended in dangerous lion-like claws. When Humbaba spoke, his voice was like thunder and his breath was deadly. It was said that his speech was (like) fire, but I’m uncertain whether this was meant to be taken literally.

Georg Burckhardt’s translation of the Gilgamesh epic provides a more detailed physical description: the monster’s head was adorned with bull-like horns, his body was clad in scales, his feet ended in bird-like talons and his penis was a snake. Humbaba also had a tail, which also ended in a snake. To my great annoyance, I have not been able to acquire a copy of this translation so I had to contact someone who did own a copy and ask for the description.

But I’m digressing. As it turned out, even the mighty Humbaba proved no match for the eponymous hero of the Epic of Gilgamesh. After Gilgamesh and Enkidu travelled to the sacred forest to find the creature, Humbaba appeared before them to deny the heroes entry to the sacred forest. He fought fiercely, but the god Shamash commanded the winds themselves to blind Humbaba (as Gilgamesh was favoured by the sun god Shamash). After a long and fierce clash, the monster was defeated. He pleaded and begged for his life, but was slain nonetheless. Gilgamesh and Enkidu then cut down some of the holy cedar trees to make a giant door, with which they adorned the temple of Enlil.

It is also worth noting that effigies/images of Humbaba were used to protect against evil. Also, Humbaba might originally have been derived from the Elamite deity Humban. To my knowledge, this theory remains unproven.

Sources: George, A., 1999, The Epic of Gilgamesh: The Babylonian Epic Poem and Other texts in Akkadian and Sumerian, Penguin Books, Great Britain, 228 pp. Burkhardt, G., 1922, Gilgamesh, Brandus, Berlin (secondhand description) Black, J. and Green, A., 1992, Gods, Demons and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia: an illustrated dictionary, University of Texas Press, 192 pp.

(image source 1: Citrushark on Twitter and Reddit. I had to cut the bottom part of the picture because someone said I shouldn’t post a penis snake. Here is the full image, in all its uncensored Mesopotamian glory) (image 2: an idol representing the head of Humbaba. Image source: Osama Amin on worldhistory.org)