#Getting to know Mislav

[ominous-feychild]

✦ Character Voice Tag ✦

Following tag from @honeybewrites!

Characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, and Daleira Characters from the Arcane Rifts: Gene, Tazin, and Mislav

Lines to be used: - "Move over! I wanna watch too." @honeybewrites - "A little help, please?" @the-golden-comet - "Unhand me!" @the-letterbox-archives - "Okay, someone has to come up with a plan" @fractured-shield

"Move over! I wanna watch too."

Freya: "Move! Ugh--please, sorry!" *has already shoved her way past* Crow: *teleported through shadows to get to a better vantage point* Crow: "Excusez-moi!" *at the same time as slapping them aside with their wing* (note: they are not French.) Daleira: "Excuse me, please. I want to watch this too." Gene: "Uhm... ex-excuse me... please..." Tazin: "OUT OF THE WAY!" *meanwhile shoving people way more violently than necessary* Mislav: *way too quietly* "excuse me? I... excuse--vynost, I SAID MOVE!!!" *will shove if they haven't jumped out of the way of the screaming 9-year-old*

"A little help, please?"

Freya: "A little help over here!? Sooner rather than later???" Crow: "Ey! Over here! HELP!" Daleira: "Hey, could I get some help please?" Gene: *is not physically capable of asking for help* Gene: "Uhm... could-could I... please get some help?" Tazin: "Get your ass over here and HELP ME!" (note: read in a nasally, obnoxious 9-year-old's voice) Mislav: "hey, um... could I get some help? Please?"

"Unhand me!"

Freya: "what the--let go of me!" *will tear away from who/whatever grabbed her if she's able* Crow: *combat mode: engaged. Duck into their own shadows and teleport to get a moment to process the scene before reacting further.* Crow: *calmly, making eye contact* "you have less than five seconds to let go of me. Five. Four--" Daleira: *making eye contact, but trying to figure out if the grabbing was malicious or well-intentioned* "what's wrong." (hint: you do NOT want to be on her bad side.) Gene: *at the top of his lungs, voice cracking from under-use, and simultaneously yanking away with more strength than a 7-year-old should have* "LET GO OF ME!!!" (*panik attack*) Tazin: *insert unintelligible demonic screeching here. And imagine the grabber being set on fire. Because both will be the case.* Mislav: "LET GO OF ME!" *will yank away with, yet again, more strength than a human child should have. In fact, even more than a human adult if the grabber is intimidating. Will headbutt and leave a GNARLY bruise if necessary.*

"Okay, someone has to come up with a plan!"

Freya: "Guys??? What are we doing??? Don't tell me I have to figure something out!" Crow: *deadpan* "Don't make me break out Plan B. Trust me, you do NOT want Plan B." Daleira: *taking a deep breath and tying her hair back with a hairtie that JUST magically appeared* "alright, here's what we're going to do." Tazin: "GENE, COME UP WITH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW!!!" Gene: (regardless of whether or not ^^^ just happened) "I... I think I have an idea..." Mislav: "ohvynostpleaseno--does anyone have a plan??? Anyone??? Anything??? Ohvynostno--PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO USE IT!!!"

Your line: "Well, you see, Perry the Platypus, it all started on the day I (...) AND THAT'S WHY I PLAN TO CONQUER THE TRI-STATE AREA!" (in other words, if you don't want to Doofenshmirtz it, "This is why I'm about to do this No Good, Very Bad Thing. That is also why you are not going to stop me or change my mind." I thought it'd be fun with Doofenshmirtz's way, but either should work!)

Tagging (with no pressure) @darkandstormydolls @yourpenpaldee @.honeybewrites @.the-letterbox-archives (avoiding double-tags) and whoever else wants to join!

Divider from @cafekitsune

[eycsnow666]

Hey! You asked me, and I love these sort of games, so I'm paying it forward.

If you want to do the character aske, I'd ask for your take on Geralt of Rivia 🥰

ah Geralt, my beloved most neutral witcher and bestest monster killer in all the land (/s ^^)

Sexuality Headcanon: once upon a time, a young Geralt fancied himself strictly as a woman’s man, and that his same sex dalliances w other witchers were simply bc of lonely nights in Kaer Morhen. Until he left KM and found himself not averse to bedding women and men alike. Life is full of surprises and sometimes they are children, sometimes the discovery that cock is prettty good. And since life as a witcher is Toil and Labour, he wasn’t about to over-complicate smth he personally had no objections with just because some rando noble might be uncomfortable. Quite the useful attitude for a witcher living on the outskirts of civilisation, so that worked out for him.

This is just my hc for a TW3 timeline with overt homophobia, based on the encounter with Mislav. Because CDPR have proven themselves cowards by not showing a single dick in the entirety of the games and therefore cannot be 100% trusted with canon, I like to also imagine another where homophobia is less prominent (and non-existent in most regions) where geralt is…exactly the same. no fucks given except for in bed ;)

Gender Headcanon: a cis man, and pragmatic and doesn’t give a hoot if prudes shake their heads at his gender non-conforming habits. if a warm, comfy article of clothing in his possession happens to be a dress, it’s being worn, and how majestic. he knows how to braid hair, bc it doesn’t hurt to know how. Bonus: kid!Ciri adored him for it. Besides, gender-coding things sounds like an Other People kinda problem, and he is but a simple witcher with potions to brew and blades to oil, so…

A ship I have with said character: Geralt/Emhyr is my current obsession💖 Geralt/Regis and Geralt/Dettlaff are two close faves. All simultaneously within the same timeline bc my blorbos love to share

A BROTP I have with said character: a begrudging understanding between Geralt and Mererid, whose dislike of Geralt rose exponentially when he heard of Emhyr taking on Geralt as a lover. But Geralt worked some magic (read: really good sex and perhaps some axii for the nerves) to make emhyr’s mood do a 180 or maybe just a 90, he’s still a grump sometimes

and mererid was like, ‘you. you can stay.’

A NOTP I have with said character: none particularly? m8 if I encounter a ‘squick’ ship (think themes of incest for example) that’s also well-crafted, count me in for eating the dead dove

Random headcanons:

The only time he seriously reassessed his sex life was: 1) after falling for Regis, and even then it was more bc of the mental image of Papa Vesemir scolding him that he was meant to fight, not fuck this creature, and 2) falling for Emhyr, but then he seriously contemplated many other things too…

No way is he not a good cook what with those witcher-level potion brewing skills and olfactory senses

he has really nice hands! when they’re not encrusted with monster gore, anyway. and he takes good care of them too

General Opinion over said character: one of my fave things abt his character is that even though he’s pushing 100, he’s still a big awkward turtle. and also that his hero complex pulls him in directions he wouldn’t intentionally go makes him even more fun (see: every single bit of politics shenanigans his allegedly neutral arse gets swept into). I love him. my babygirl.

that was fun, thanks for the ask!!

[ominous-feychild]

Absolutely a mood though!

Most of the Arcane Rifts's characters are straight-up criminals, haha. Though! (And I personally think this is really cool, though it's kinda the point of tAR...) The main REASON a majority of tAR's characters are criminals is because society rejects them for one reason or another.

Like Gene is disabled and autistic! (Y'know, ignoring the fact he gets kicked out of the orphanage. But who knows why Caspar did that? 👀) (Me. I know. But I'm not telling obviously 😂)

Tazin is a minority/discriminated race, Jhandan, and copes with a traumatic experience with an obsession for arson. (Though to be fair he's also obsessed with fire because he's the equivalent of a fire-sorcerer and inborn magic users tend to have a fondness for their elements in my writing. But he's obsessed with arson specifically because it's his way of coping with a deeply traumatic incident.)

Mislav kinda outs himself from the rest of society due to the fact that he KNOWS he "doesn't belong" and that "if his secret got out (that he's a berserker), people would oust him anyway." Which... he's actually right about, and in fact comes true in that even most of his allies turn weary of him when the Berserker Curse starts showing outwardly.

Then the "main villain" of the first book (I'm actually going to give this honor to the technical sidekick), Rieka, not only looks Jhandan (she's not but is actually "from" a neighboring country) but also acts "different" due to her own past trauma. Like, she's alienated from the very criminals she works for just based off of those two facts. Even though she's their healer! And you know, realistically, she could destroy every single one of them... and only doesn't because she's both been trained not to and conditioned to expect terrible treatment.

Then the technical, "actual" main villain, Oska--the leader of a literal gang who ends up even kidnapping the main child protagonists!!! (I mean he's mostly nice to them but STILL!) Know why he's in the position he is? His family was torn apart by a war before his generation/poverty, his protective older brother started the gang, Oska took over after his death, and now he sees the gang as his family because he doesn't have anyone else!!!

Idk, I just love the themes of tAR (I mean I know I wrote it but I can still love it) and how a majority of the problems that exist are because of 1, discrimination, 2, people with power actively exploiting those vulnerable, and 3, generational trauma!!!

I don't care if I wrote it, I will NOT shut up about how much I love tAR and its themes, haha.

Recently, I've come to the realization that all of my characters either don't exist to the government/make no money, or are felony tax evaders. Not sure what this says about me, but it is kinda funny

[ead13]

That conversation with Mislav

I know there were other options for dialogue that could be used, but I can’t get over the fact my Geralt responded to Mislav’s “I’m a freak” comment with what equated to “Dude, same.” Then when Mislav tried to clarify that it wasn’t what Geralt was thinking, he basically goes “Gotcha, but don’t worry, I know a guy who can cure lycanthropy”. LYCANTHROPY is what he thinks of first! While it could be that it never crossed his mind that the guy was gay, I prefer the interpretation that it never crossed his mind that being gay was a get-driven-out-you-freak offense, and Geralt knows enough about being driven out.

[mislavthehunter]

In the woods, dawn

Mislav buried himself a bit deeper into the furs as the sun managed the twists and turns between the  trees, chasing the mist away. It was still very early. The forest had just started to come alive around the little shelter he kept in the woods south of the Broken Bridge, and even if he should get up and on with his day, Mislav closed his eyes and listened to it.

Forests were surprisingly noisy early in the morning, when the night-prowlers settled down and the birds started their day, brimming with energy and hell-bent on defending territories and attracting mates. Some monsters, probably drowners, were croaking and shrieking as they settled down by the river to wait out the day. The more subtle sounds were made by mice scurrying about the now dead camp-fire, looking for scraps from Mislav's late supper, though they could barely be heard over the rustle of leaves in the trees around him.

He was almost asleep again when a squirrel raced over the roof of the shelter, bouncing through the dry grass down the hill and into the safety of the trees. It was enough to make him sit up, and that made the cold morning air chase away the heat that had cocooned him in the bedroll. He grunted as his stomach complained and without getting up ate a cold breakfast thanks to a left over sausage and a bread-roll from last night.

There was not much of a view, here in the low woods that had been made Mislav's realm. It was flat, more hilly than his knees liked these days, and difficult land to farm on. From the main road crossing through White Orchard to the abandoned village by the lake, all the woods south and east of these two markers belonged to him, and he belonged there. Exclusively.

He tried not to be bitter about that. There were many other things they could have done, after all, other than not allow him to be seen in the village while the sun was up, not let him talk to kids or women, ever, and not let him stray from the cut of forest they had considered his to hunt and protect. They could have hanged him, to start with, as he imagined was Florian's fate despite everyone's insistence that they had no hand in it. The only reason he could give them the benefit of the doubt was that he had not met the same fate.

Mislav realised he was getting bitter about it, so he broke camp and made for a quick walk down towards the main road, the bundle of furs heavy on his back.

Soldiers moved on the road through White Orchard, towards the north which was now bristling with Nilfgaardian soldiers, and where soldiers marched, merchants followed. It was easier to trade with them on the side of the road than to go into White Orchard after nightfall and hope the villagers were in a good mood and would indulge the freak on that day, besides he often got better prices for furs and meat from travellers who were hoping to reach Novigrad at some point, where goods could be sold anywhere. Come winter he would have a good income on winter pelts, for now he settled for soft furs from squirrels, foxes, rabbits and deer, and this time he even had a wolf pelt that was not stripped by mange.

All in all it was not a bad life, he figured, as he settled down on a grassy hill by the road, close enough to see and be seen, but not so close that he got in the way of soldiers and horses. He had what he needed as long as he respected the boundaries set for him by the villagers. A roof over his head, forests that no-one but himself roamed. Usually. Occasionally some wayward bandits looking for a place to lick their wounds. Witchers also tended to roam around the place, attracted to that odd rock that stood in the middle of no-where like a moth to a flame. He had studied the rock a few times himself, and never understood why they liked it so much, they kept kneeling next to it, forgetting the world around them for a while before moving on to wherever witchers went.

The last few years had been rather odd like that. Much had changed, he remained the same person banished to the edge of the same old village, and as he watched a long line of Nilfgaardian soldiers march past, he contemplated whether or not he should change some things as well.

[the-ic-corner]

A guide to Dinamo Zagreb

An introduction for my Milan mutuals, by your local hrvatskaboo who occasionally watches Dinamo.  

Goalkeepers

Dominik Livaković (or Livi) is the first goalie and vice captain of the team. He’s been with them for god knows how long because he refuses to sign for some shitty english club. He often has a worried expression on his face, but he has seen horrors beyond your comprehension as the goalie for Dinamo and the Croatian national team. Looks like a tall worried frog when he’s wearing green. Don’t underestimate him though. He’s saved our asses so many times.

On the bench: Daniel Zagorac, Ivan Nevistić

Defenders

Dino Perić is the tallest guy on the pitch at roughly 1,98 m. This absolute unit of a man is one of my personal faves. But don’t be scared, he’s a gentle soul. He will cry if he’s injured or gets a red card. Literally, there’s multiple sad photo’s of this. He’s an avid reader and very smart, but dumb enough to fall for crypto currency. We’ve nicknamed him Finance boy. 

Stefan Ristovski might be a familiar name for some of you. He captained North-Macedonia when they beat Italy in the World Cup qualification. Please don’t hate him! He kinda looks like Ante if you squint (and you’re missing Ante really badly) so I’ve nicknamed him Makedante. 

Rasmus Lauritsen is a surprise name. Somehow a Danish guy got lost in Croatia and signed for this club. He seems to like it a lot, but the hot weather sometimes gets too much for him and then he decided to shave his entire head. Hence his nickname Baldritsen.

The others (I don’t have much to say about them): Sadegh Moharrami, Daniel Štefulj, Kevin Théophile-Catherine, Josip Šutalo, Emir Dilaver.

Midfielders

Robert Ljubičić is the one with that big head of curls. You can’t miss him, unless he decided to wear a bun, which is a crime. He’s a young talent and really surprised us this year!

Luka Ivanušec has made a couple of appearances for the national team and is definitely one to watch. How do you find him? Well, he appears to have a big d*ck as it’s basically always on display, bulging out of his shorts. Yeah I’m serious.

Martin Baturina looks baby, is baby. He’s 19 but you better watch out. Consider yourselves warned about this massive talent.

Arijan Ademi captains the team and you may also know him from that lovely North-Macedonian squad. You laugh at his underbite while he fouls the shit out of you. 

Petar Bočkaj was deemed too fat by Dinamo officials at the beginning of the season, but in this house we don’t judge. It’s called thicc and he proved he can definitely score goals with that plump body.

Also there: Antonio Marin, Josip Mišić, Marko Bulat.

Forwards

Mislav Oršić is a name you should know. He has scored hat-tricks in both the Champion’s League and the Europa League before. Famous for kicking out Spurs last year, for that he earned the nickname Daddy. Last week he scored the goal against Chelsea. He seems to hate English clubs in particular but who knows what he’ll do against Milan...

Bruno Petković is that handsome man up front who will bodyslam his way to goal and then try to do a bicycle kick. He can be really good, but sometimes his goal-drought is worrying. Together with Ivanušec he makes Team Big D*ck and not just in energy.

Also watch out for: Mahir Emreli, Josip Drmić, Gabriel Rukavina, Luka Menalo, Dario Špikić.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Non Geraskier Fic Masterlist

HELLO LOVELIES!

Due to the MASSIVE support and interest I’ve gotten on this post (and oh boy I did not expect it, sometimes I forget how big the fandom really is) I will be moving this post to a new blog that will be dedicated solely to non-Geraskier content! I’ll have some help keeping things updated over there so things should go more smoothly and maybe I won’t fuck up all the links/pairings lists anymore. Head on over to @morethangeraskier to continue submissions! And once I get this list up over there I’ll reblog it!  

The new list is now up and located >>H E R E<<

I WILL NO LONGER BE UPDATING THIS LIST!

@acemoppet​ AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Yennefer/Triss, Triss/OFC

@andordean AO3 Cahir/Ciri, Ciri/Regis, Ciri/Tankred Thyssen, Detlaff/Regis, Ciri/Cerys, Gen/No Pairing, Regis/Natanis the Succubus, Regis/Beauclair Succubus

@bard-llama AO3 Iorveth/Roche, Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier, Calanthe/Eist

@bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher AO3 Triss/Yennefer

@brasskier AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier, Yennefer/Jaskier

@childoffantasy AO3 Eskel/Geralt, Eskel/Triss, Eskel/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier, Ciri/Cerys, Aiden/Lambert

@elliestormfound AO3 Lambert/Aiden, Yennefer/Jaskier, Eskel/Jaskier/Geralt

@fangirleaconmigo AO3 Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, Eskel/Jaskier

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde AO3, Lambert/Aiden, Jaskier/Lambert, Jaskier/Eskel, Jaskier/Yennefer, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel, Gen/No Pairing, Jaskier/Valdo Marx, Yennefer/Renfri, Vesemir/Guxart, Borch/Eskel

@geraskier-trashh AO3 Geralt/Eskel

@ghostinthelibrarywrites AO3 Yennefer/Triss, Aiden/Lambert, Yennefer/Renfri, Eskel/Jaskier, Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier

@hailhailsatan AO3 Eskel/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier, Eskel/Jaskier/Geralt, Yennefer/Jaskier

@handwrittenhello AO3 Yennefer/Jaskier, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Geralt/Regis, Eskel/Jaskier

@herbalina-of-yesteryear AO3 Regis/Reader, Cerro/Lara Dorren, Regis/Natanis the Succubus, Regis/OC, Cregennan of Lod/Lara Dorren

@hoomhum AO3 Lambert/Eskel/Geralt

@hungarianbee AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Ivar Evil-Eye/Keldar, Erland of Larvik & Arnaghad 

@inexplicifics AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Lambert/Aiden, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, Eskel/Geralt, Eskel/Jaskier, Lambert/OFC, Gweld/Serrit (possibly more pairings? there were are a ton of amazing fics to look through)

@jaskiersvalley AO3 Aiden/Cahir/Lambert/Eskel, Lambert/Aiden, Eskel/Lambert, Cahir/Eskel/Lambert, Cahir/Eskel, Aiden/Eskel/Lambert

@jaskierswolf AO3 Lambert/Aiden, Jaskier/Dandelion, Dandelion/Priscilla

@jawanaka AO3 Gen/No Pairing

@kate-river AO3 Eskel/Geralt

@kueble AO3 Eskel/Jaskier, Lambert/Aiden, Jaskier/Dandelion

@leevila-today AO3 Eskel/Reader

@lovelyrita1967 AO3 Regis/Tissaia, Eskel/Lambert, Eskel/Letho

@lynge81 AO3 Lambert/Aiden (trans-masc Aiden)

@major-trouble AO3 Eskel/Jaskier, Jaskier/Lambert

@miahclone AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Eskel/Lambert, Vesemir/Monster

@namesonboats AO3 Ciaran/OFC, Iorveth/OFC, Detlaff/Syanna, Detlaff/OFC

@octinary AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Lambert/Aiden, Jaskier/Lambert, Lambert/Keira Metz, Lambert/Geralt (linking a fic I read yesterday or the day before that was so fucking good I rec’d it to all the goobs), Lambert/Eskel/Geralt, Yennefer/Geralt

@ohnomybreadsticks AO3 Aiden/Cahir/Eskel/Lambert, Eskel/Lambert, Aiden/Lambert, Cahir/Eskel, Calanthe/Eist, Cahir/Eskel/Lambert, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

@ooksaidthelibrarian AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Eskel/Geralt, Crossovers, Aiden/Lambert

@poledancingdinos AO3 Eskel/OFC

@queenmevesknickers AO3 Gen/No Pairing, Meve/Reynard Odo

@rawrkinjd AO3 Arnaghad/Erland of Larvik, Aiden/Lambert, Eskel/Lambert, Geralt/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt, Gaetan/Letho, Eskel/OC, Eskel/Jaskier, Eskel/Letho, Letho/Auckes/Serrit

@round--robin AO3 Eskel/Geralt, Jaskier/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt/Lambert, Lambert/Aiden, Gaetan/Letho (I’m 1000% positive I missed ships because there are a ton and they’re all great so just go and start reading)

@rubberduckiemel AO3 Iorveth/Roche, Filavandrel/Jaskier, Geralt/Iorveth/Roche, Elihal/Hattori, Dijkstra/Iorveth/Roche, Cedric/Iorveth/Roche, Avallac’h/Lara/Cregennan

@skai6 AO3 Jaskier/Dandelion

@sleepyxcoffee AO3 Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier/Lambert, Ciri/Cerys, Eskel/Geralt, Eskel/Geralt/Lambert 

@smmorewtchrstuff​ AO3 Lambert/Aiden

@sternenstaub28 AO3 Eskel/Jaskier, Letho/Jaskier, Geralt/Regis

@stinawrites AO3 Lambert/Aiden, Yennefer/Renfri, Eskel/Reader, Eskel/Succubus, Jaskier/Eskel/Geralt, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

@teamfreehoodies AO3 Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, Yennefer/Jaskier, Yennefer/Renfri, Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier

@thecomfortofoldstorries AO3 Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Triss/Eskel, Reader/Jaskier, Reader/Geralt

@thehornedwitch AO3 Geralt/Iorveth

@tumbleweedtech AO3 Aiden/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt, Gen/No Pairing, Jaskier/Vesemir, Gaetan/Letho, Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert

@unremarkablegirl AO3 Gen/No Pairing

@witchertrashbag AO3 Eskel/Geralt, Eskel/Yennefer, Geralt/Yennefer, Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier, Eskel/Natanis the Succubus, Emhyr/Geralt, Geralt/Lambert, Jaskier/Yennefer, Geralt/OMC, Jaskier/Valdo Marx

@wordsablaze AO3 Eskel/Jaskier, Jaskier/Lambert, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Yennefer/Jaskier, Geralt/Yennefer

@yenngeraskier AO3 Geralt/Yennefer, Gen/No Pairing, Eskel/Geralt, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer 

@yoursummerfrost AO3 Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Yennefer/Renfri

I don’t have a tumblr for the following, if its you or anyone knows them please let me know! 

Bawdy Bean AO3 Hjalmar/Eskel, Eskel/Mislav, Gaetan/Letho, Gaunter O’Dimm/Geralt, Lambert/Keira Metz, Gen/No Pairing, Aiden/Aldith, Eskel/Geralt, Eskel/OFC, Eskel/OMC, Detlaff/Regis, Eskel/Gaetan, Eskel/Letho, Eskel/Lambert, Crossovers

Infinitefire AO3 Calanthe/Eist

Caelanmiriel AO3 Valdo Marx/Jaskier, Jaskier/Lambert

Lunacosas AO3 Eskel/Jaskier, Eskel/Geralt

Rutherbird AO3 Cahir/Ciri

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapter 14: In the bottom of my bottle

*cover picture by Dai (bookscorpion)    

Chapters: 14/?

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Kiyan (The Witcher) / Adrien (The Witcher)

Characters:  Kiyan (The Witcher), Adrien (The Witcher), Original Male  Character(s),  Original Male Character(s) of Color, Joël (The Witcher),  Guxart (The    Witcher), Ireneus var Steingard, Original Female  Character(s),   Sigismund  Gloger (The Witcher), Gottfried Oss (The  Witcher), Marco  Gedl  (The  Witcher), Michelle Sabina Ruxer (The  Witcher)

Additional Tags:  Canon Rewrite, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Bisexual Kiyan,  Unbury The Gays, saving  Kiyan, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher),    Witcher Senses, Racism,  Canon-Typical Violence, Sexual Tension, Murder    Husbands, Cat School  (The Witcher), The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Demonic    Possession, Rare  Pairings, Rare Characters, Just two growly tops,    Possessive Behavior,  Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Get Together,   Main  Character(s) of  Color, Est Tayiar, Oxenfurt Academy (The  Witcher),   Based on Scavenger  Hunt: Cat School Gear quest, game canon  mostly,   Swordfighting, The  Witcher Lore, Developing Relationship,   stubborn  idiots to lovers,  Emotional Slow Burn, assholes in love,   Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism,  Suicidal Thoughts    

Chapter 14: “In the bottom of my bottle” summary:

Titus didn't immediately realize something was wrong. He had had a sleepless night after his turn on watch at the camp, and on his way to Oxenfurt, he hadn't noticed the mood in the group. In truth, he didn’t pay it any mind even after they had settled in at the Marywil Inn near the harbor. All he had in mind was a decent bed on which he could finally sleep. Of course, everyone was glum. On top of the fact that they had witnessed the death of their escorts, the fate of the entire expedition was in question, and the prince and Professor Gloger were furious with each other. So in all of this, the captain easily missed the fact that Adrien and Kiyan were strangely tense with each other.

_____________________________

Yas! First of August and it's Chapter 14!

This is a special date because our Cap is celebrating birthday today! In general, August is a birthday month for us because Gav and I also celebrate birthdays! So happy birthday to Cap, happy birthday to Gav and happy birthday to me! Yay! :D

We also thought that since we have the advantage of Leos in this group, Adrien will also be a Leo and we also set his birthday at the beginning of August. I mean, who's to stop us? As for Kiyan, it's hard to tell since even he doesn't know his birthday, but I can feel the strong Virgo vibes from him. But I'm also very curious if you have any theories about the Kiyan zodiac sign? Maybe you feel different?

Anyway, this chapter is interesting not so much because of the action (no, I know, there is no action here), but because of the small cameo (young Mislav! He's a baby! <3) And a few other little easter eggs from the game. However, the name of the inn - "Marywil" - comes from the name of the first hotel in Poland. So consider this as a kind of historical easter egg. The location of this inn is in the building complex where in the game we can find Tamara, the daughter of the bloody Baron. The plot of our story takes place some 30 years before the events of The Witcher 3, so in this place, so many decades earlier, there could also be an inn. Because why not?

ALSO we celebrated reaching 600 hits when we published the previous chapter a few weeks ago. Now we're celebrating 700 hits and thank you all so much for that! It means a lot to us and we are very happy that you are here with us! Ask meme is still active and you can still send us a question about our lovable bastards, and we’ll tell you our thoughts!

We have already answered a few questions, you can read the answers here and here.

As always, please let us know how you like our project so far. We are always very happy to hear from you! <3

A.

_____________________________  

After lunch, everyone started packing up the camp and getting ready for the road. Kiyan tracked and recovered the horses that had bolted during the rotfiend attack. Thankfully, they were all grazing calmly and had no injuries beyond a couple minor saddle sores. The healer had continued on his way to Novigrad before Kiyan had even woken up that morning. Adrien asked the hunter's son who had accompanied him to go to Drahim Castle and inform Klemens of their situation so the majordomo could send a group of guards to Oxenfurt to be the scholars’ new escort. However, before the boy went on his mission, he asked to speak to the prince in private.

"Please forgive my boldness, Prince," the boy said as they moved away from the camp. "I really appreciate the payment you gave me, and of course I will deliver your message, but instead of coins, I'd like to ask for something else. If you allow, of course."

Adrien looked at the boy, intrigued. The sum Adrien had offered the kid was quite a lot of money to a peasant hunter. Contrary to what was said in the area, Adrien wasn’t stingy, and he appreciated the help of those who offered him their service selflessly. Though apparently the boy’s motives were less than selfless. He only wondered what could be more valuable to a village boy than coins.

"You’re always allowed to ask." Adrien gave the boy a cold look. "However, whether you will get what you ask for is a completely different matter."

The kid swallowed nervously, but summoned the courage to look the prince in the eye. "I'd like to work for you."

"Work? For me?" Adrien eyed him incredulously. The boy was very young. He was definitely younger than Gisbert. "How old are you?"

"Does it matter?" The boy grimaced slightly. "I can hunt, I'm really good at it, I could--"

"Okay, slow down," Adrien cut him off. "Isn't your father a hunter? Shouldn't you be helping him?"

"Father and I-- We don't get along well lately."

"Ah, so you want to run away from home." Well, the kid was smarter than the prince had been the first time he’d tried to run away from home about the same age, too. At least the boy had a plan. Finding a rich lord to work for wasn’t even that bad a plan, all things considered. "It's interesting that you chose me. I doubt anyone around here would recommend me as a good lord."

The young hunter shrugged. "I've heard rumors, if that's what you mean, prince. But I also saw here that you care about your subordinates. You’re taking the dead guards home to bury them."

That was Titus’s doing, not mine , Adrien thought. It’s not that the prince was against the idea, but in light of recent events, his attention was rather focused on those who remained alive. Death for Adrien was a simple thing - the dead will remain dead no matter what you do, regardless of how you commemorate them or where you bury them. But the prince would carry these dead bodies all over Redania if that would ease Titus's conscience. Adrien's conscience would always be disturbed anyway; so many people had already died because of him, and he had no illusions that a worthy burial would change anything. He had just learned to function with his guilt.

"You took care of those who were wounded, you brought a healer for them," the boy continued, and Adrien mentally rolled his eyes.

It was Marco's idea to go for a healer , Adrien thought, but he didn't correct the boy aloud. There was something engagingly naïve about this child trying to convince them both that the prince was a good person. It was a nice feeling, though it was fed with a lie. Like most of the nice things in Adrien's life.

"And you were worried about the witcher even though he’s a freak," the boy finished, and the prince gave him a stern look. He didn't like the word freak . He liked it even less when it was applied to his witcher. "So you aren’t such a bad lord as they say. Besides, you paid me in advance, even though you have no guarantee that I will deliver your message. So I figure serving you wouldn't be so bad. I don't want to go home, but wandering around nearby villages and hunting in forests that belong to someone is asking for trouble."

"I don't need a hunter," said the prince at last, and he saw the hope in the kid's eyes fade. He could understand his reluctance to go back to his father, really, better than most, but he couldn't take in all the orphans around. "However, I can write you a letter of recommendation for one of the local noble families. The Bilewitz are my distant cousins; they are honest and wealthy, they will gladly take you on."

The boy shook his head. "I know this family. I thought about them, but it's too close to home."

"Where are you from?"

"Brunwich."

So the Garin and Moldavie families with whom Adrien did business were also out of the question. Their estates were also at Gustfields. No wonder the kid had chosen Adrien: Castle Drahim was the farthest noble estate from Brunwich in the area. And the greatest. Further from Grassy Knoll there was only Temerian Velen, but Baron Dieter wasn’t worth taking into account, for obvious reasons. Things weren't going well with Reardon manor, the neighboring estate to Dieter’s, so there was only one place left that was both far enough away and somewhere Adrien's letter of recommendation would be worth anything to the boy.

"Do you know where the White Orchard is, the lands of Ignatius Verrieres?" Adrien asked

"White Orchard?" the boy hesitated. "It's in Temeria, isn’t it? It's very far away."

"I thought you wanted to distance yourself from your father as far as possible." The prince laughed. It wasn't far at all, but he supposed that to such a young boy who only knew Gustfields, it must seem the end of the world.

"Please don't mock me," pouted the young hunter. "I've never even been this far before. This Verrieres, he’s a good lord?"

"I don't know him well," Adrien admitted. He had no interest in lying to the kid. "But I did a large deal with him once, and he made good money thanks to me. Let's say he owes me, so my letter of recommendation should work. Verrieres has a lot of land and vast forests, he could use a hunter for sure."

The boy hesitated, and he glanced at the purse he had received for agreeing to deliver a message to Drahim Castle. The boy had declared he would give up the money if Adrien gave him a job. He was probably wondering now if there was a chance to get a letter of recommendation and the money. It gave the kid more options. Adrien smirked. The kid wasn't stupid. He was starting to like him.

"What's your name?" asked the prince, for he realized there had never been an official presentation between them.

"Mislav," replied the young hunter, as if surprised that the prince was even interested.

Read on AO3

[sunflowersupremes]

What blackmail do we think Dijkstra has on Jaskier??

“You spy for anyone who pays you,” Dijkstra interrupted coldly. “You inform on anyone who has something on you. And I’ve got a few pretty good things on you, Dandelion. So don’t be saucy.”

“I won’t give in to blackmail!”

“Shall we bet on it?”

In Blood of Elves when he’s spying for Dijkstra he refuses to give up as much information on Geralt as Dijkstra wants (he actually tricks him into thinking Geralt has left Oxenfurt, when in fact Geralt is in Dandelion’s room fucking Shani). 

More than once during the conversation Dijkstra references that he’s got SOMETHING on Dandelion, but neither of them give us any additional information on what it might be. Even when Dandelion DARES Dijkstra to blackmail him because he’s that determined to protect Geralt, neither of them tell us anything!!! So what could it be?? 

I mean, the most obvious form of blackmail against someone would involve people they’ve slept with, but this is Dandelion, so that’s off the table (for now, we’ll get back to it). 

Theory 1: His Degree

Something to do with his degree/education. 

We know that Dandelion fucked everyone while he was at Oxenfurt and that he showed up to class hungover most of the time. We also know that he surprised his teachers by graduating top of his class. 

So while he definitely did work for his degree and didn’t cheat, this is Dijkstra we’re talking about. I would not put it past Dijkstra to have cooked up some fake “proof” that Dandelion cheated to get his diploma.

Theory 2: Something to do with Geralt

I would not put it past Dijkstra to have something on Geralt. It’s probably fake (maybe it’s the same fake stuff that Ferrant made in Season of Storms), but whatever it is it’s convincing. 

Geralt wouldn’t care (too much) about his reputation, so there’s no point trying to blackmail him with it. But Dandelion would care about Geralt’s reputation, so he would try to keep whatever it is from coming to light. 

Theory 3: He’s a Spy 

Obviously revealing that Dandelion has been spying for him could hurt Dijkstra... but it would hurt Dandelion even more. His job is to travel from one court to another, playing for kings and other nobility. If they were to suddenly realize he’d been tricking them all along they would stop inviting him (or even murder him) and his livelihood would fall apart. 

Theory 4: Sex

He slept with the wrong married person/persons. 

Okay so we know he does this... a lot. But what if Dandelion’s gotten into a few beds that he maybe shouldn’t have gotten into, like the wife of a King? Maybe the king doesn’t know about it and would kill Dandelion in retribution. 

Theory 5: He’s Gay as Shit

I mean, there’s no canon proof that he fucks men... but there’s no proof that he doesn’t and we, as a fandom, have collectively decided that he’s more queer than a three dollar bill.  

As per Mislav in The Witcher 3, we know homophobia is alive and well on the Continent. Maybe not everywhere, but enough places that for someone like Dandelion - who relies on being able to travel safely and at will - to want to keep his sexuality on the downlow. Particularly if his relationship with Geralt is sexual, that could/would spark a lot of problems.  

[oxenfurt-archives]

Chapter 14: In the bottom of my bottle

*cover picture by Dai (bookscorpion)    

Chapters: 14/?

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Kiyan (The Witcher) / Adrien (The Witcher)

Characters:  Kiyan (The Witcher), Adrien (The Witcher), Original Male  Character(s),  Original Male Character(s) of Color, Joël (The Witcher),  Guxart (The    Witcher), Ireneus var Steingard, Original Female  Character(s),   Sigismund  Gloger (The Witcher), Gottfried Oss (The  Witcher), Marco  Gedl  (The  Witcher), Michelle Sabina Ruxer (The  Witcher)

Additional Tags:  Canon Rewrite, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Bisexual Kiyan,  Unbury The Gays, saving  Kiyan, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher),    Witcher Senses, Racism,  Canon-Typical Violence, Sexual Tension, Murder    Husbands, Cat School  (The Witcher), The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Demonic    Possession, Rare  Pairings, Rare Characters, Just two growly tops,    Possessive Behavior,  Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Get Together,   Main  Character(s) of  Color, Est Tayiar, Oxenfurt Academy (The  Witcher),   Based on Scavenger  Hunt: Cat School Gear quest, game canon  mostly,   Swordfighting, The  Witcher Lore, Developing Relationship,   stubborn  idiots to lovers,  Emotional Slow Burn, assholes in love,   Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism,  Suicidal Thoughts    

Chapter 14: “In the bottom of my bottle” summary:

Titus didn't immediately realize something was wrong. He had had a sleepless night after his turn on watch at the camp, and on his way to Oxenfurt, he hadn't noticed the mood in the group. In truth, he didn’t pay it any mind even after they had settled in at the Marywil Inn near the harbor. All he had in mind was a decent bed on which he could finally sleep. Of course, everyone was glum. On top of the fact that they had witnessed the death of their escorts, the fate of the entire expedition was in question, and the prince and Professor Gloger were furious with each other. So in all of this, the captain easily missed the fact that Adrien and Kiyan were strangely tense with each other.

_____________________________

Yas! First of August and it's Chapter 14!

This is a special date because our Cap is celebrating birthday today! In general, August is a birthday month for us because Gav and I also celebrate birthdays! So happy birthday to Cap, happy birthday to Gav and happy birthday to me! Yay! :D

We also thought that since we have the advantage of Leos in this group, Adrien will also be a Leo and we also set his birthday at the beginning of August. I mean, who's to stop us? As for Kiyan, it's hard to tell since even he doesn't know his birthday, but I can feel the strong Virgo vibes from him. But I'm also very curious if you have any theories about the Kiyan zodiac sign? Maybe you feel different?

Anyway, this chapter is interesting not so much because of the action (no, I know, there is no action here), but because of the small cameo (young Mislav! He's a baby! <3) And a few other little easter eggs from the game. However, the name of the inn - "Marywil" - comes from the name of the first hotel in Poland. So consider this as a kind of historical easter egg. The location of this inn is in the building complex where in the game we can find Tamara, the daughter of the bloody Baron. The plot of our story takes place some 30 years before the events of The Witcher 3, so in this place, so many decades earlier, there could also be an inn. Because why not?

ALSO we celebrated reaching 600 hits when we published the previous chapter a few weeks ago. Now we're celebrating 700 hits and thank you all so much for that! It means a lot to us and we are very happy that you are here with us! Ask meme is still active and you can still send us a question about our lovable bastards, and we’ll tell you our thoughts!

We have already answered a few questions, you can read the answers hereand here.

As always, please let us know how you like our project so far. We are always very happy to hear from you! <3

A.

_____________________________  

After lunch, everyone started packing up the camp and getting ready for the road. Kiyan tracked and recovered the horses that had bolted during the rotfiend attack. Thankfully, they were all grazing calmly and had no injuries beyond a couple minor saddle sores. The healer had continued on his way to Novigrad before Kiyan had even woken up that morning. Adrien asked the hunter's son who had accompanied him to go to Drahim Castle and inform Klemens of their situation so the majordomo could send a group of guards to Oxenfurt to be the scholars’ new escort. However, before the boy went on his mission, he asked to speak to the prince in private.

"Please forgive my boldness, Prince," the boy said as they moved away from the camp. "I really appreciate the payment you gave me, and of course I will deliver your message, but instead of coins, I'd like to ask for something else. If you allow, of course."

Adrien looked at the boy, intrigued. The sum Adrien had offered the kid was quite a lot of money to a peasant hunter. Contrary to what was said in the area, Adrien wasn’t stingy, and he appreciated the help of those who offered him their service selflessly. Though apparently the boy’s motives were less than selfless. He only wondered what could be more valuable to a village boy than coins.

"You’re always allowed to ask." Adrien gave the boy a cold look. "However, whether you will get what you ask for is a completely different matter."

The kid swallowed nervously, but summoned the courage to look the prince in the eye. "I'd like to work for you."

"Work? For me?" Adrien eyed him incredulously. The boy was very young. He was definitely younger than Gisbert. "How old are you?"

"Does it matter?" The boy grimaced slightly. "I can hunt, I'm really good at it, I could--"

"Okay, slow down," Adrien cut him off. "Isn't your father a hunter? Shouldn't you be helping him?"

"Father and I-- We don't get along well lately."

"Ah, so you want to run away from home." Well, the kid was smarter than the prince had been the first time he’d tried to run away from home about the same age, too. At least the boy had a plan. Finding a rich lord to work for wasn’t even that bad a plan, all things considered. "It's interesting that you chose me. I doubt anyone around here would recommend me as a good lord."

The young hunter shrugged. "I've heard rumors, if that's what you mean, prince. But I also saw here that you care about your subordinates. You’re taking the dead guards home to bury them."

That was Titus’s doing, not mine , Adrien thought. It’s not that the prince was against the idea, but in light of recent events, his attention was rather focused on those who remained alive. Death for Adrien was a simple thing - the dead will remain dead no matter what you do, regardless of how you commemorate them or where you bury them. But the prince would carry these dead bodies all over Redania if that would ease Titus's conscience. Adrien's conscience would always be disturbed anyway; so many people had already died because of him, and he had no illusions that a worthy burial would change anything. He had just learned to function with his guilt.

"You took care of those who were wounded, you brought a healer for them," the boy continued, and Adrien mentally rolled his eyes.

It was Marco's idea to go for a healer , Adrien thought, but he didn't correct the boy aloud. There was something engagingly naïve about this child trying to convince them both that the prince was a good person. It was a nice feeling, though it was fed with a lie. Like most of the nice things in Adrien's life.

"And you were worried about the witcher even though he’s a freak," the boy finished, and the prince gave him a stern look. He didn't like the word freak . He liked it even less when it was applied to his witcher. "So you aren’t such a bad lord as they say. Besides, you paid me in advance, even though you have no guarantee that I will deliver your message. So I figure serving you wouldn't be so bad. I don't want to go home, but wandering around nearby villages and hunting in forests that belong to someone is asking for trouble."

"I don't need a hunter," said the prince at last, and he saw the hope in the kid's eyes fade. He could understand his reluctance to go back to his father, really, better than most, but he couldn't take in all the orphans around. "However, I can write you a letter of recommendation for one of the local noble families. The Bilewitz are my distant cousins; they are honest and wealthy, they will gladly take you on."

The boy shook his head. "I know this family. I thought about them, but it's too close to home."

"Where are you from?"

"Brunwich."

So the Garin and Moldavie families with whom Adrien did business were also out of the question. Their estates were also at Gustfields. No wonder the kid had chosen Adrien: Castle Drahim was the farthest noble estate from Brunwich in the area. And the greatest. Further from Grassy Knoll there was only Temerian Velen, but Baron Dieter wasn’t worth taking into account, for obvious reasons. Things weren't going well with Reardon manor, the neighboring estate to Dieter’s, so there was only one place left that was both far enough away and somewhere Adrien's letter of recommendation would be worth anything to the boy.

"Do you know where the White Orchard is, the lands of Ignatius Verrieres?" Adrien asked

"White Orchard?" the boy hesitated. "It's in Temeria, isn’t it? It's very far away."

"I thought you wanted to distance yourself from your father as far as possible." The prince laughed. It wasn't far at all, but he supposed that to such a young boy who only knew Gustfields, it must seem the end of the world.

"Please don't mock me," pouted the young hunter. "I've never even been this far before. This Verrieres, he’s a good lord?"

"I don't know him well," Adrien admitted. He had no interest in lying to the kid. "But I did a large deal with him once, and he made good money thanks to me. Let's say he owes me, so my letter of recommendation should work. Verrieres has a lot of land and vast forests, he could use a hunter for sure."

The boy hesitated, and he glanced at the purse he had received for agreeing to deliver a message to Drahim Castle. The boy had declared he would give up the money if Adrien gave him a job. He was probably wondering now if there was a chance to get a letter of recommendation and the money. It gave the kid more options. Adrien smirked. The kid wasn't stupid. He was starting to like him.

"What's your name?" asked the prince, for he realized there had never been an official presentation between them.

"Mislav," replied the young hunter, as if surprised that the prince was even interested.

Read on AO3

[ominous-feychild]

✦ OC Questionnaire Tag 3 ✦

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling!

Characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, and Valyarus Characters from the Arcane Rifts: Gene, Tazin, and Mislav Featuring tAR's children at ages 15, 17, and 17! (Aka mid book 2.)

Questions: - Do you have a tell when you're lying? - What other media genre would you do the worst in? - Are you confident in yourself? from @the-letterbox-archives

Do you have a tell when you're lying?

Freya: Um... not that I know of? I'm not really in the habit of lying? (*remembers that she does, in fact, lie a lot... but mostly through omission of the truth!*) Haha... yeah! ... ugh, okay, um. If I had to guess... (*shifts uncomfortably in place*) it would probably be that I struggle in what to say? Though I kinda do that anyway? Ugh, I don't really know. (A/N: the easiest sign to tell that she's "lying" is that she avoids the subject completely. She'll change the subject or "get distracted". She also fidgets more, but that's something she does a lot anyways because she's awkward.)

Crow: Of course not! I don't lie anyway, so how would I find out? 😉🥰 (psst... Crow...) What? (You're supposed to basically be under truth serum for these Questionnaire posts...) Okay. And? 😘 (So you're telling me that you, a detective, have never told a lie once?) ... (See the issue there?) Nope! 😄 (A/N: WHELP! Uncooperative Crow understandably won't tell you, so I will. They're a very good liar, so it's hard to tell when they do. The best indicator is that they'll stumble slightly in their speech when almost saying something "they shouldn't" or they'll hesitate while trying to come up with a lie. The falters are always subtle though.)

Valyarus: (*snorts*) I would think not. Besides, I'm not in the habit of lying. There's too much magic that can force you into Truth-telling to be able to rely on it--no, best is operating in half-truths and implication. The best method of deception is allowing the one you wish to deceive to come up with the answers for themself. For example... (*slowly smirks, quirking an eyebrow*) I never said I don't lie just now... did I? (A/N: ahhh, our beloved douchebag faerie living up to his species's reputation. In other words: he's a fantastic "liar".)

Gene: I... don't know. I'd... like to think not. Maybe... maybe that I... (*takes a slow, deep breath, collecting himself*) ... I probably act more confident when I lie. I... I'm not confident. And probably don't... stutter as much. Or hesitate... So, speaking patterns? They--they change, I mean. My speaking patterns. When I lie.

Tazin: (*snarls*) I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, you got me? I--I-- (*struggling to lie because of the whole "these questions are answered under basically-truth serum" thing*) FINE! I don't fucking lie because I can't, okay? I avoid the subject! Or I just--I don't know, I just fucking lie??? How am I supposed to fucking know if I have a "tell"??? Don't you think I'd fucking fix it if I knew??? (A/N: he gets avoidant of the subject and/or highly aggressive to dissuade the asker from continuing at the moment... or generally asking again.)

Mislav: Um... this is a weird question?... I guess I don't really--(*remembers he lies literally all the time*)--lie... (*lets out a slow, pained sigh, running his hands back through his hair in frustration*) I don't know? I just--try my best to bullshit it? Try to make people feel better, or avoid giving them the information they want? I don't know??? (A/N: best indication is that he answers too quickly. He usually practices/rehearses his lies before it comes time to actually tell them. Otherwise (if he didn't expect to have to lie/doesn't have one prepared), he freezes up, stutters, and smiles/jokes too much as he tries "appeasing" or distracting the questioner.)

What other media genre would you do the worst in?

(we're going to be implanting Forbidden Knowledge of our Real World genres and whatnot for them to be able to best answer this!)

Freya: The horror genre. (*shudders*) I cannot deal with scary stuff, okay? I think I would be the first to die. I'd scream, or cry, and break down--probably try hitting the monster or whatever over the head with a chair when it turns the corner and, well... that never goes well in those sorts of things, does it?

Crow: Fairy tales. I'd either be the "lesson"--"don't do this or look what happens to you! You'll become Crow!"--or I'd be whatever the horrifying monster or villain is. I mean... (*laughs awkwardly, looking away and rubbing their shoulder feathers*) when you're me... you get used to knowing you're what's wrong with the world. (*beat. They realize what they've just said--*) I mean, romance. I'd probably annoy my love interest to death. 😎

Valyarus: (*fake gags, then with disgust:*) Romance. My only "biological" child was through magic, and I would not step foot near anyone with that sort of intention. I don't understand how others do. Much less why my daughter is so interested in Freya. They just met! (note: he's aroace and is equally disgusted with romance and sex. Also, yes, I know that's not how all aroace people are. I have plenty of other characters everywhere else in the spectrum. This is just where Valyarus is.)

Gene: Um... probably romance. I...'m not interested in it... not really. Be-besides with Mislav, I mean... and I... I don't even know why he likes me? 😅😓 ... people think I'm creepy. They don't say it--not to my face--but I know they think it. And I... I struggle to talk with people a lot. I try to say one thing, but they think I mean another?... I don't understand why. It's hard. And I--... I don't think I'd do well in that kind of story.

Tazin: The kinda thing where I'd have to teach. I don't have that kind of fucking patience, are you fucking kidding me? I think I'd explode on them. Maybe even literally. (*He pauses, considering it... and grins darkly*) Actually, wait--I take it back. I want to try. (I want to tag in and say traditional horror/thriller. I think the degree to which he'd freak out or curse out the monster would be comical and/or break the immersion, haha.)

Mislav: I would not be able to participate in a talk show or be in the news. A talk show? (*scoff*) Regardless of the subject, it wouldn't take long for me to be driven mad by their endless talking and pretending they know everything. The news? Even worse. I think I'd snap their mic in half. And only because I'd be struggling not to snap other things. <.< (read: necks, limbs, etc.)

Are you confident in yourself?

Freya: Ha... no, not really. I act like I am, but... y'know, it's just that--an act.

Crow: What's not to be confident about? I'm the greatest, I've never made a mistake in my life, and every decision I make is the best one I possibly can! 😘

Valyarus: (*poised on a grand chair; sipping tea elegantly with one hand while the other hangs over the side of the armrest. A nail file magically hangs in the air and is filing his nails while he sips tea*) Hm? What did you say? Oh. (*chuckles*) Of course I'm confident in myself. My abilities, my character, my decisions--everything. 😉💅

Gene: Depends what you mean by "myself"... (*goes quiet, looks away, and debates*) ... I... I try my best to make the right decisions. The best ones... that I possibly can. I--as hard as it is to not question them, it's--it's not good to worry about past decisions. I do my best, and that's--that's all I can do. So... (*takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts*) I'm not confident, but I try to be.

Tazin: (*snarls*) Of course I'm confident. I've gotten this far, haven't I? (*and slowly starting to smirk instead--*) I mean, look at me. (*leans back and gestures at himself with both hands*) I used to live on the streets with Gene. Now I have a girlfriend. People used to be terrified at my name--and they still would be if I didn't have to stop with the whole "Svarog" thing. (*oops, snarls again and leans in close; threateningly*) Look, I don't care what anyone else says, but Gene wasn't the only reason we were successful! He wouldn't have gotten anywhere without my strength, got it!?!? (Is actually less confident than he thinks he is--overcompensates for that by having convinced himself that he's the greatest. Hm... wonder if that fits the diagnosis criteria for anything?)

Mislav: Ha... not at all. (*swallows and looks down at his hands, fighting back tears*) I... one of these days, this curse is going to take over me. Will I even know when it does? Or will it be slow enough that I never even recognize that I've changed? I... (*looks back up at asker*) I worry, one of these days, I'll only know it when I've done something I can't come back from...

Your questions: - Same as the ones I answered!

Tagging (with no pressure) @yourpenpaldee @honeybewrites @fantasy-things-and-such @wyked-ao3 @the-golden-comet

@paeliae-occasionally @ath3alin @mysticstarlightduck @the-letterbox-archives + open tags!

Divider from @cafekitsune

[coachtfd]

My Europa League Thoughts: 3/18/21

1) PREMIER LEAGUE TEAMS AREN’T AUTOMATICALLY BETTER THAN EVERYONE OUTSIDE OF THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE. You see it with the media, the fans, and tonight you saw it with the players -- they always think they’re better. I’ve said it before, there is quality in the Europa League and it’s not just a throwaway tournament anymore. With winning being a ticket into Champions League, more clubs are improving to do just that.

2) “You nailed it.” My friend’s text today in response to my prediction that Zagreb could knock Spurs out. Why did I think that? Simple: Spurs put in that sad performance against Arsenal and lost, while Zagreb (who I’ve been tracking lately), thrashed NK Varaždin 5-0. When I saw that scoreline I instantly feared for Spurs if they didn’t come to play. FYI: Mislav Oršić scored two goals at the weekend and a hat trick tonight, no surprises here. The media and fans can point fingers at whoever they want, but the better team won. Spurs have a lot of players that are better, yes, but Zagreb is a better team, period. 🙅🏾‍♂️

3) Manchester United, I’m glad you’re through, but you didn’t get the best Milan in this fixture; sorry, but you didn’t. If you played this team when they were flying just a couple of months ago, they would’ve destroyed you. So, congratulations, but I’m not declaring you winners yet.

4) Arsenal, Liverpool, or Chelsea: sign Nicolás Tagliafico and your second-choice left back and thank me later. 😉 (Southampton: sign him as your first-choice, because Bertrand is AWFUL 😂)

5) Spurs: I know he’s 28, but he has 19 goals and 8 assists in all competitions this season. Sign Mislav Oršić and thank me later, I think he could be a fine stand-in when Son gets hurt or Bale leaves. 😉 (I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been tracking this team)

6) Dean Henderson is going to be a fine replacement for David De Gea. I have to tell you, it’s been nice watching matches and not even thinking about whether he’s going to make a shocking mistake or not. He might make a mistake, but it’s not on the forefront of my concerns and it’s brought more enjoyment to watching. 😌

7) I felt Rangers could go through, but I feared they lacked the quality to go through. I know it’s Slavia Praha, who is punching WELL above their weight, but Rangers just don’t have that “next-level” quality and it continues to hold them back in this competition.

8) Keep an eye out for 19-yea-old right back Nathan Patterson.

9) Unai Emery finally found a team that suits him and he’s got Villareal flying in this competition. I would strongly advise their next opponent not to underestimate them. I also think it would be poetic justice if the center back Spurs loaned out because they didn’t think he was good enough, Juan Foyth, got to the final.

10) Praying Manchester United doesn’t face Roma in the quarterfinals. 🙏🏾

11) What I love about many of the teams left in the competition: they are fearless! On to the next quarterfinals! 👉🏾

[sciencespies]

We just got unprecedented new images of supermassive black hole M87*

https://sciencespies.com/space/we-just-got-unprecedented-new-images-of-supermassive-black-hole-m87/

We just got unprecedented new images of supermassive black hole M87*

Telescopes from across the globe have teamed up to take unprecedented images of supermassive black hole M87* as it blasts matter into space at 99 percent the speed of light.

This is the same famous black hole that was captured by the Event Horizon Telescope and unveiled in 2019.

That first release was a spectacular achievement. It took many years of work, and an array of radio telescopes that spanned the entire globe, combining their observations to image a region of space not much bigger than the Solar System from 55 million light-years away.

Now a team of scientists has added data from more telescopes across multiple wavelengths of light, each of which reveals different characteristics of the black hole M87* and the relativistic plasma jet it’s blasting into space.

“We knew that the first direct image of a black hole would be groundbreaking,” said astronomer Kazuhiro Hada of the National Astronomical Observatory of Japan.

“But to get the most out of this remarkable image, we need to know everything we can about the black hole’s behavior at that time by observing over the entire electromagnetic spectrum.”

There’s a lot more to a black hole than what we see in the zoomed-in image we see of M87*’s shadow and halo above. The supermassive black hole is active, slurping down material from the hot disc of dust and gas around it, which means some pretty complex things can happen.

One of these is the ejection of relativistic jets being launched from the black hole’s poles.

Nothing that we can currently detect can escape a black hole once it’s passed the critical proximity threshold, but not all the material in the accretion disk swirling into an active black hole inevitably ends up beyond the event horizon. A small fraction of it somehow gets funneled from the inner region of the accretion disk to the poles, where it is blasted into space in the form of jets of ionized plasma, at speeds a significant percentage of the speed of light.

Astronomers think that the black hole’s magnetic field plays a role in this process. The magnetic field lines, according to this theory, act as a synchrotron that accelerates material before launching it at tremendous speed.

In the case of M87*, that’s 99 percent of the speed of light – about as fast as relativistic jets can get – and the jet we can see extends about 5,000 light-years into space. The light it emits spans the entire electromagnetic spectrum, from the least to the most energetic, so observing it in only one wavelength band would mean missing some information about the energy of the structure.

So, the team added data from telescopes observing the jets in multiple wavelengths, including the Hubble Space Telescope for optical light; the Chandra X-ray Observatory and the Swift-X-Ray Telescope; the NuSTAR space telescope for high-energy X-rays; the Neil Gehrels Swift Observatory for ultraviolet and optical; and HESS, MAGIC, VERITAS and the Fermi-Large Area Telescope for gamma radiation.

M87 in multiple wavelengths. See high res here.

Above: Click here for full caption, credit and high res version.

The primary purpose of this, the researchers said, is to produce and release a legacy data set that astronomers will be able to use for years to come to study M87* and its jet, to try to gain further insight into this phenomenon and how it occurs.

“Understanding the particle acceleration is really central to our understanding of both the EHT image as well as the jets, in all their ‘colors’,” said astrophysicist Sera Markoff of the University of Amsterdam in the Netherlands.

“These jets manage to transport energy released by the black hole out to scales larger than the host galaxy, like a huge power cord. Our results will help us calculate the amount of power carried, and the effect the black hole’s jets have on its environment.”

The team’s first analysis of their data is interesting. It shows that, at the time of the Event Horizon Telescope observations in April 2017, the region around it was at the dimmest we’ve ever seen it. Contrary to making the black hole’s shadow harder to image, this actually made things easier, since it meant that M87* was the brightest thing in its immediate environment, unobscured by glare.

They also found that gamma radiation – which can be produced by interaction with cosmic rays, whose origin is currently unknown – wasn’t emerging from close to the black hole’s event horizon at the time of those observations, but somewhere farther out.

Precisely where is still a bit of a puzzle, but that’s the beauty of this work – it’s something that scientists will be building on for a long time, particularly as the Event Horizon Telescope continues to operate. It’s conducting an observing run right now, at time of writing, and that data will give scientists a lot to mull over.

“With the release of these data, combined with the resumption of observing and an improved EHT, we know many exciting new results are on the horizon,” astrophysicist Mislav Baloković of Yale University said.

The results have been published in The Astrophysical Journal Letters.

#Space

[elliotjgdb427]

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[mislavthehunter]

The Cemetery, night

Night had fallen when Mislav got to the crossing east of the garrison. The moon pulled the tide in as it climbed the star lit sky, and he was soaked to the knees by the time he made it across to the other side. He paused only to tip the water out of his boots and wring out his socks before pulling everything back on and continuing on the path east, putting distance between himself and the garrison until the panic died and got replaced by exhaustion and shame.

The commander had likely just tried to be friendly and aimed a bit high. Nilfgaardians often did, they seemed to do everything in the extreme. Punishments and retaliation were usually brutal and often final, but in return, their hospitality was just as overwhelming, particularly for a northerner. It was easier to see it for what it had been now that he was alone in the woods again, the comfortable anonymity of the dark closing in on him to the point that he had to stop and dig his lamp out of his pack.

The prepared rushlight brought colour back to the woods as Mislav placed it in the holder and closed the little door. It was but a short walk away from the narrow path and to the low stone fence that circled the White Orchard cemetery, a fence to keep the many headstones and the crypt separated from the world.

He was surprised to see that there were some candles set up on the stones that circled another of those strange stones that the witchers seemed to like so much. Some of the vegetation had been taken down by the local deer population now that the wraith was gone, and a few darker shapes down by the entrance to the graveyard showed that the cemetery had been reclaimed by the locals as well. There were fresh graves there now.0

Mislav walked down to the witcher-stone and saw how the grass had been trampled in front of it.  Mislav ran his hand along it as he walked past it, feeling nothing, and knew he was stalling.

There was no real need to look for the grave he was both seeking and avoiding. It was much larger than any other, and stood out like a sore thumb. A big, white ledger slab and a tall stone both in pale granite, framed with pillars of darker rocks stood by the outer borders of the cemetery, a monument fit for a lord's son, a massive construction among the simple headstones granted to the lesser folk.

It had been at least six months since Mislav last visited, so the moss had already dulled the pale granite that usually shone, be it in the light of the sun or the moon. Mislav sat on the edge of the slab and brushed away leaves and moss until he revealed the engraved figure of a young man, resting with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest. It did not look like him. It never had looked like him. Mislav still removed all the moss, all the leaves, and he was starting to shiver from the cold by the time he had to replace the rushlight in his lamp. He did not clean off the standing stone, nor the words engraved on it. He knew them by heart, the lamentation over Florian's too early passing, his lack of heirs, blaming his death on apoplexy while hunting when he had been found hanging in the woods, the only slightly veiled accusation as his father begged Melitele for forgiveness for his son's sins against nature and its laws. The moss and the weather would erase the words from sight, if not from Mislav's memory.

“Laws of nature...” Mislav mumbled, taking his glove off so he could press his hand to the crossed arms, right over where Florian's heart would have been, feeling that familiar tightness in his chest as if his ribs were trying to collapse over the hollow Florian had left behind when he died.

“What the hell could have been more natural than you and me,” he said, trying for anger but that had faded many years ago, perhaps it had dried up like the tears had done, like the agony of coming here had done. By now it felt almost as meaningless as everything else. Whatever remained of Florian was gone, after all. Bones and clothing might remain, sealed up tight under the granite slab, but he knew he was talking to memories, and even those were fading under the wear and tear of time. Like the carving on the granite, Florian's features had faded from his mind. It had been years, decades since he could last recall the sound of his voice, what he smelled like, the feeling of their hands touching or what the stolen kisses in the woods tasted like. The only things that lingered was the loss and the love. Memories tangled together with dreams and the plans they had made until he was not certain what was real and not and he hated it.

“Would you blame me if I left?” he whispered, putting words to the idea that had been festering in him since he first told his story to the witcher who thought Mislav was a werewolf, of all things. The witcher who was kind enough to label himself a freak as well, Mislav had not missed the look on Geralt's face when he realised the truth and he was not sure if he had imagined it or not, but he thought he had seen understanding there as well. “If I wanted to escape the banishment and go where I could love you and your memory in peace?”

Where having to admit out loud that he had loved a man who died because of it was met with quiet sympathy and not blind hatred. Mislav watched the carved figure on the slab for a long while, running his fingertips over the stone that was worn smooth by now, dipping his fingers into the hollows that water and ice had formed, lost in thoughts until the rushlight flickered in the lamp and the horizon brightened.

“I don’t think you would. You were many things, Florian,” Mislav said, stroking his thumb over the rounded cheekbone of the crude carving. “Stubborn. Noble. A shit archer.” He smiled as his vision blurred. “Great dancer, even if you never managed to teach me properly. And so... damned kind. Always.”

He got to his feet, his legs were numb from the hours sitting on cold granite. It was the complete opposite of everything Florian had been in life.

“You loved life so much, you loved me and I love you, that'll never change,” Mislav said, swallowing past the grief as best he could as he put words to the guilt for the first time. “I did not return in time to save you, back then. Not returning now... that is me saving what's left of myself, me and my memories, before that rots and wither away like everything else.”

Mislav did not ask for forgiveness, he knew Florian would have said there was nothing to forgive. He did not say goodbye, for he carried the memories in his heart, and all he left behind was a father's hatred, old bones and cold stone that would soon enough be swallowed by the forest and forgotten by everyone but the one lone hunter leaving the White Orchard cemetery for what proved to be the last time in his life.

[notgonnarememberthis]

Beautiful - Chapter 10

This is it! Wow I can’t believe I’ve been writing this story for over 2 years. I finally got enough of an idea together to piece together the final chapter. Thanks a lot to Mislav again for requesting this fic, it’s truly been a treasure to write and to receive help from you when I got stuck and it was great to get your lovely holiday messages. Thanks to everyone else who stuck through with this one even when I take long breaks because I do dumb shit like lose my laptop charger for a month straight. But this is it for Beautiful. Hopefully I’ll get another one cranking out soon enough. 

Sherlock rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration. It's been nearly a week since they had taken the case against Liam Miller and thus far they have no sign that the man had ever even existed. Any lead they found turned to dead ends and even Everyone seemed at a loss for this mystery man. He’s had Mason go through every database to see if he could find a facial match for this man, but still to no avail. Either they were all making up this man or he’s effectively disappeared.

The sound of the door opening calls his attention but he does not look up. Watson greets the delivery man kindly and engages in polite pleasantries before closing the door once more. “Thai’s here!” He follows her footsteps until she stops right behind him. “And you haven’t moved since I left.”

“We’re missing something.”

“You’re obsessing.”

“Of course I am. There’s a missing sociopath on the loose and we don’t even know his name.”

“They could be lying. Delays their cases in court until they can get solid attorneys to reduce their sentences as much as possible.” She shrugs unpacking the food from the paper bag.

“What would be the point in confessing? Besides, I refuse to believe an imbecile like Simon Lee could fool my lie detection.”

“Even though he and his wife were literally designing a machine that could track lies better than a polygraph.” She deadpans. “No case while eating, you’ll get food all over the papers.” She plucks the file from his hand tossing it onto the ever growing pile of folders and loose papers. “They only packed one set of chopsticks you’ll have to go get a fork from the kitchen.” She folds herself neatly into the spot next to him crossing her legs beneath her.

“Why do you get the chopsticks?”

“Finders keepers.” She shrugs simply. He ponders her for a minute teetering between giving in and going to fetch a fork or arguing his point. He settles for another tactic in the end delivering a swift jab to the side of her ribs. He’d discovered one night when she flinched away from his touch that Watson’s sides are extremely ticklish. She lets out a cry of betrayal folding in on herself to protect from further attacks. Using her brief moment of distraction he snatches the chopsticks from her fingers with a triumphant grin.

The look on her face displays utter shock and a flash of determination. He’s now tempted the beast inside of her and he knows this is going to be a battle between the two of them. She moves quickly on him using high ground to try and reach for the utensils, which he now held high in the air. Even with her sitting atop him she’s just out of reach of them. However, he realizes far too late that reaching them was never her plan in the first place. Using the diversion of her raised hand, her other attacks his exposed underarm tickling him just as he had her. Yet she doesn’t stop when she retrieves the chopsticks once more. Rather, she continues her assault while he squirms beneath her.

“Watson!” He pleads between laughter. Still she doesn’t stop, he does the only thing he can think of doing and leans forward nipping at her exposed collar bone. Her movements cease immediately and she stares at him in shock.

“Did you just bite me?” She laughs, a melodic tone that chases away all of his playfulness. He loves her laugh almost as much as he loves her frustrated shout of his name. “You’re such a child.”

“Weren’t you just the one who said finders keepers?” He fires back but still he’s enraptured by the sight of her. Her cheeks are flushed from laughter, loose tendrils fallen out of the messy bun that had secured her hair to the top of her head. They’d mainly remained in the Brownstone, aside from him taking a short trip to retrieve new copies of the files, so she’s without makeup allowing her freckles to shine through the dim light of the living room. Her legs are straddling his waist making the moment all the more difficult to contain himself. He waits, though, until her eyes seem to settle into the same mood as he. Her dark gaze flickers from his eyes to his mouth and back again, her breath catches as he takes the small signal as permission to press his lips against the smooth column of her throat.

“Sherlock,” A gasp escapes her as he trails over the spot he just bit. His tongue laps against her skin sending her hips bucking against his. Her fingers pull his shirt free from their tuck into his pants making quick work of the buttons along her way. His own trail up her bare thighs teasing the edge of the pj shorts she’s wearing. Once she’s finished with the buttons he leans forwards so that she can push his shirt off of his shoulders, exposing his chest to her. With his new position he nudges aside her tee planting kisses and bites to her collar bone.

She shucks off her cardigan first and then her tee shirt revealing her breasts to his willing gaze. He takes advantage of the new expanse as his hands roam up her back. As he catches a nipple in between his lips, he pulls her hair free burying his fingers in the dark strands. A sensuous moan vibrates from her chest as her hands hold his neck, clinging him to her. He kicks off his shoes before flipping them on the couch so that she’s pinned beneath him. She pulls her head to his as their lips finally meet, tongues tangling in a secret dance. She whines into his mouth as he presses his hips against hers letting her know just how much he wants this.

Finally they pull apart for air and he sits up to remove his pants. He kicks them away along with his boxers as she does the same. “I need you.” Her voice is laden with lust as she pulls him back to her, wrapping her legs around his back. He braces his hands next to her head as he lines up. What’s remaining of his sense screams a word at him, condom. They’d been exclusive since they kissed the second time, when she wasn’t drunk. Still, every time they’ve had sex they’ve used protection. However, this being their first journey outside of the bedroom he’s beginning to wonder if he should hide them in possible places throughout the Brownstone that are more accessible than his previous ones. Though previously he was hiding them from her. Now he needs them for her. His mind wanders momentarily picturing some lovely hiding spots on the roof where they could get carried away.

“Sherlock.” Her plea brings him back.

“Condom.” He groans in return. He doesn’t want to leave her touch. Not now.

“Desk.” She hums against his skin, perfect teeth marking him as her own. She smiles against his shoulder as if she could see his expression as his mind connects the dots. She’s already hidden some. The thought sends electricity up and down his spine and he kisses her once again telling her exactly how wonderful she is with no words spoken. Excitement burns within him to find all the places with her. He reaches up pulling out the drawer and sure enough a condom sits just within his reach.

He makes quick work of the packaging sliding it on to himself. She watches his face the entire time lips slightly parted breathing heavily. He lines himself up sliding into her easily. The movement pushes her head against the arm of the couch as her nails dig into his back. He starts his rhythm slow and torturous only dragging against her. He mimics the movements with his lips, just barely brushing the skin of her neck allowing her to feel his hot breath fanning against her. He lets the thoughts of the case, of Liam Miller and the mystery surrounding them fade into the background. His focus is too preoccupied by the small noises that he can feel against his mouth. Little whimpers that wouldn’t be heard if he were anyone else. She’s holding them in, he can feel it in the tension in her jaw.

“I want to hear you.” He rasps brushing his stubble against her skin. He’d long ago discovered that she loves the feel of it against her, especially when he’s buried between her legs.

“I want you to go faster.” She challenges tightening her legs around him. He can do little but obey. He wants to know all he can about her. He can’t get enough of it. He can’t get enough of her. His strokes gain grow quicker and harder and as his reward she tosses her head back, her moans and sighs mixing in the air with the sounds of them coming together.

He groans her name against her skin as her ankles dig into the backs of his thighs. Her nails are scraping down his back sure to leave angry red marks in their place but he can’t bring himself to care when she’s thrown all abandon out the window and let him see her a glimpse at her so out of control.

“Fuck!” Her hips buck as he hits a spot deep within her interrupting their rhythm. He curls his in response hitting again the same spot repeatedly. He can feel her thighs trembling against his and her breathing escaping arrhythmically. It only takes three more taps against that spot before her jaw drops open in a silent scream and she shakes apart beneath him. He allows himself to let go as well since he’d been holding himself against the edge since her whimpers began. As he falls into the abyss he’s struck by the thought that there’s no other he’d rather cling to in oblivion than her.

He places one last rapturous kiss against his shoulder as they both come down from their highs. When her legs release their death grip on his hips, he slips out of her tying off the condom and disposing it in the trash can that he’d initially dragged into the room for discarded theories but he much prefers this use.

He flips them over so that she lies against his chest as they cool down in post-coital bliss. He can feel her lips huffing breaths against his shoulder, he can feel it in how her diaphragm expands raising her back. Her fingers find the tattoo on his hip tracing the design in peaceful tranquility.

The doorbell quickly breaks their moment, eyes flashing up to each other in alarm. Relaxing, forgotten they pull on their clothes as quickly as possible. He goes to the door while Watson disappears into the back rooms, likely to make herself look less ravaged. He opens the door finding a tired looking Marcus holding a file.

“Is there a reason you two aren’t answering your phones?” The detective questions upon seeing him.

“Apologies. We were conducting an experiment.”

“Just keep your phones near you okay?” He asks to which Sherlock gives a jerky nod. He casts a glance to the archway when he sees movement from his peripheral. Watson stands listening into the conversation but otherwise doesn’t make her presence known. “We found the kids.”

“Are they unharmed?”

“Their at a hotel in Massachusetts. I got some guys keeping an eye on them but for now we’re just going to let them be as long as they’re not causing any trouble.” He passes him the file and he flips it open to see a capture from a recording that caught the son of Lena Murphy on it. “He checked in under the name Tom Marvolvo, had an ID and everything. How the kid got the money and resources so fast I couldn’t tell you.”

“Do you think one of the parents helped them escape?” Marcus shrugs rubbing between his eyes. “Thank you Marcus.” He says goodbye to the detective offering to greet Watson for him despite her standing just out of sight. Once the door closes he turns to his partner who is laughing quietly.

“Well that was close.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock glances at the clock for the fourth time that morning, waiting for an “appropriate” time to wake Watson. They had long ago agreed on a minimum time he could wake her unless it was absolutely imperative to the case at hand. As the hand on the clock crosses to 5:30 he bounds up the steps two at a time ready to go wake her with a checkers table boxed and tucked beneath his arm. He pushes the door open slowly allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room. When his sight is clear it is very apparent that Watson is not in her bed.

Unreasonable panic seizes in his chest. He hadn’t heard her get up to go to the bathroom but he checks regardless. Empty. Against logic he checks every room on the top floor with absolutely no sign of her. “Watson!” He calls her name unable to control his fears now. There’s no signs of a break in, the logic screams but it’s quickly snuffed by fear. He runs around the next level shouting her name not caring about being a considerate roommate or neighbor.

In a last ditch effort he faces the cold without a coat, running to the back door where their basement entrance is. He pushes the door open immediately noting light filtering from the other room. He holds his breath not knowing what he will find as he rounds the corner.

He nearly weeps in relief when he spies Watson asleep at her desk on top of a pile of papers. Allowing himself a moment to catch his breath he gently wakes her with a hand on her shoulder.

She startles despite the gentle touch, glasses finally slipping off her face and clanging loudly onto the floor. She blinks blearily up at him murmuring apologies. He feels the panic edge away and he sighs settling into the chair beside her. “You didn’t hear me shouting your name.” Even in her sleep ridden state she can register the lingers of fear. Concern clouds her gaze pulling her into full consciousness quickly.

“I was down here all night. I thought you heard me come down.” He shakes his head. “I must’ve fallen asleep.” She picks her glasses back up pulling one of the files closer to her to show to him. “After Marcus left I couldn’t shake that something was up with this whole thing. Like Liam Miller exists but we can’t find any record of him whatsoever.”

“It’s an alias.”

“Lena Murphy’s son used the name ‘Tom Marvolvo’ to check into the motel, right?” He nods in confirmation of what she surely already knows. “Well it’s from Harry Potter. It’s an anagram by used for exposition by the villian. The anagram is ‘Tom Marvolvo Ridde’ but he reveals it to mean ‘I am Lord Voldemort.’ So I thought, ‘What if Liam Miller is an anagram?’” She stands walking over to a chalkboard with nearly 60 results written neatly. She points to one she underlined glancing back at him.

“Rille al mim?” He echoes, confused.

“I knew it sounded familiar so I did some digging. ‘Rille Al Mim’ is a spell. It’s appeared in one of the books in the first issue of Doctor Strange. I recognized it because Oren had a replica of this book when he was growing up. He and a couple of his friends made it.”

“What does this have to do with Liam Miller?”

“I’m getting there.” She moves quickly back to her desk. “A couple weeks ago Oren called laughing about how one of the original prints for the first issue of Doctor Strange sold for $1.2 million. The buyer was an absolute fanatic and boasted on issues that he had entire collections. But, in the interest of keeping himself private he insisted that no pictures be taken of him and any interview would use a pseudonym.” She turns the computer to him revealing the headline of the article she was pulling up. “Rille al mim. So I contacted Everyone and tracked this guy’s IP Address. It leads back to a business, Dorian Entertainment which nobody has gotten a photograph of the notoriously private CEO. Only drawings.” She switches the tab revealing one of the photographs to be a nearly perfect match for their mystery man.

Even after all of these years he still feels a swell of pride in his chest when Watson makes a successful deduction and this time is not an exception. He can’t help the smile that blooms on his face. “Remarkable.” He places a kiss to her forehead unable to contain his pride in her. “You’re remarkable.”

“We would’ve found it out eventually. We always do.” She blushes but her own smile says it all. He drags out the chair not far from her to begin formulating their plan on how to catch this man.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the end it’s a stakeout that requires their expertise. They lack evidence to connect Dorian Lancaster and thus retrieve a warrant. All they need is to get a photo with the man in the background, question one of the parents if this is the man they knew as Liam Miller, and that should be enough.

Sure enough a press event on a yacht provides a perfect cover for the two of them. Posing as his date and aided by his father’s overwhelming influence, he and Watson infiltrate the party. He does his best not to fidget with the bowtie considering the heavy dress Watson needed to succumb to. She flashes him a quick smile before they part. They’d agreed two days prior that splitting up would be the best tactic at getting the picture they need. It would aid them to work as quickly as humanly possible. Should he strike again or should there be more families this man is blackmailing it could be mere moments before another body gets added to the list.

Combing through the crowd turns out, is easier said than done. The boat is flooded with press and celebrities alike. It does not do well for his senses and he finds himself overwhelmed quickly. The flashing of cameras constantly calls for his attention as well as the music that thumps so loudly he can feel the bass shaking his chest. He keeps focused on the tip of the boat to keep himself grounded, so to say. Watson would suffice as an anchor but he hasn’t spotted her since they arrived nearly an hour ago now.

Finally, it’s a blue suit that captures his attention. The man moves too quickly for Sherlock to say with certainty that he’s the man they’re looking for so he follows in pursuit. The man stops occasionally to make small talk but he seems to move with a purpose across the boat. His eyes remain focused on him, now able to drown out the other distractions. He simply needs the man to turn so he can snap a picture.

He considers throwing his voice and calling for the man to get his attention. This thought is interrupted when he spies the midnight blue dress Watson was sporting straight ahead. Surely enough, her back is turned to the steadily approaching two. Yet, it’s her phone held above her head that tells him she’s all too aware of their presence. In the guise of an innocent selfie she’s able to snap a picture of the man moving. He smiles with pride yet again, leave it to Watson to beat him to the punch. Since that’s all they need they can slip right out with none the wiser knowing they were even there.

“Miss Watson!” Sherlock’s heart sinks as a voice that is very much not his, calls out her name. Even staring at the back of his head, he knows the shout had come from their suspect. How did he know who she is and what does he want from her.

She spins around with an all too innocent smile. She raises an eyebrow as if she didn’t know who he was or how many were killed under his power.

He’s too far to stop what happens. Two hands grasp her by the shoulders and push her over the railing. She disappears over the edge with barely a shout of surprise.

“Watson!” Panic seizes through his entire body as he moves into action. He kicks off both shoes and shucks his jacket off his shoulders without a thought to it. In the seconds it takes him to rid of clothes that could pull him down into the black depths, he’s calculated exactly how much air she’d have. Should she be unconscious there’s no telling how he could find her. Only the ripple of the dark waters marks where she was. Still he leaps over the side. He gives not a moment of thought to their fleeing killer. He can’t spare a moment when he can’t see her coming back up.

He breaks the surface after his dive, water flicking off of him as he desperately looks around for any sign of life. “Watson!” He shouts again. He can hear the distant screams of onlookers spotting him in the water getting help. He’s not the one who needs it though, can’t they see.

He dives under the water despite his better judgement. In the dark of the night there’s not a chance he’d be able to see more than five feet in front of him beneath the surface. Her dress will weigh her down. Even if she’s conscious, she won’t be able to fight that for long.

A flash of a light and frantic shouting pulls him from his doubt. Following the flashlights’ beams he sees it just as they do. Pale skin breaks the surface for a moment before disappearing again. He swims to her as fast as he possibly can, heart pounding in his ears. Slim fingers grasp the front of his dress shirt and he almost sobs with relief.

He pulls her by the arms above water where she takes gulping breaths of air. It’s awkward, holding her up and keeping them both above water at the same time but he has her. She’s breathing.

Another boat rescues them in record time thanks to the assistance of those who were on board. On shore they’re separated to check for injuries. Despite his many protests, he relents to the check up. He hadn’t suffered from the fall at all, in fact he dove into the water. The paramedics, however, don’t seem to see it from his side at all. He taps his foot waiting to get the all clear so he can just see her damn it.

Just as they were finishing, however, damp black hair catches his eyes. She walks towards him slowly, still shivering despite the heavy blanket draped over her shoulders. No amount of paramedics could keep him seated as he rushed to her. He grips her neck pressing her forehead against his as if she’d disappear if she strayed any further. Emotions rush to the surface all at once as he imagines all of the horrific ways he could have lost her over the years. But for her to just be gone without him ever knowing if she lived. It was the worst fate.

“Hey,” Watson whispers shaking fingers coming to rest on his cheeks. “I’m okay. I’m here.” He can’t stop the tears that slide down his face as he mentally thanks those who spotted her before him. Had it not been for the obnoxious amount of people, god. “Sherlock.” He opens his eyes meeting her dark ones, a soft smile on her face. “I’m here.” A gentle thumb brushes away the tears and he allows her presence to sweep over him. Her all too calm nature, the smell of her shampoo, the once silky dress pressed against his front.

God, they must be a sight.

With a little bit of time they find that thanks to the police force surrounding the boat, Dorian Lancaster was swiped up as he attempted to make his escape. The press pictures of his arrest would be more than enough to identify him whether Watson’s phone survives the ordeal or not. It’s Marcus who dismisses him that night. Any further investigations could be done in the morning. For now they needed to get home and rest.

But rest is the furthest thing from Sherlock’s mind. Not when he had come so close to losing her. Not when should she have died there’d be so much left unsaid.

Still Watson takes the advice seriously, taking a short shower before retiring to her bed. He tries all he can to do any sort of work but the memories are too fresh. The pain and panic resting in his chest all too real. He’d only felt the tempting of it when he thought she was gone, but to watch her fall. It was horrific.

The flashing of the memory is what leads him here. Standing over her bed with her back turned to him. Any other time he’d recognize the arrhythmic breathing as an indicator that she was still awake. Any other time he’d be able to resist the pull of his emotions. Any other time but right now. He pulls his shirt off before climbing into bed behind her. His arms wrap around her frame, wrapped in her cardigan, pressing his face between her shoulder blades. He feels more than hears her sigh in content as she settles into the embrace.

So many words rush to the forefront of his mind. Words he thought he’d never say to anyone. He wants so badly to tell her how much she means to him, how important she is. He can’t bring himself to. Not when it’d be so easy to lose her. Not when so many people seem more than eager to pull them apart.

Yet it’s the gentle squeeze on his hand that tells him more than enough. She knows. She feels the same. She is okay.

He makes it his mantra as he drifts off to sleep holding her in his arms.