#I made dried orange slices and they rock

[pilferingapples]

tagged by @lizardrosen (hello!<3)

last song: Sleigh Ride, the Ronettes version!:D

favourite colour: STILL GREEN, GREEN FOREVER, ACTUAL GREEN NOT TEAL OR KHAKI OR "YELLOW BUT WE'RE CALLING IT LIME" . ...I've been betrayed so many times.

last book: The Secret to Superhuman Strength, by Alison Bechdel. a very fun graphic novel I find almost impossible to effectively sum up!

last movie: Rod Serling's Carol For Another Christmas, which is on youtube now!

last show: Murder She Wrote ! I really need to watch some holiday goofiness soon...

sweet/spicy/savory: but I love them all ;__; Savory, maybe? but ask me again and I'd have another answer...

relationship status: extremely married

last thing i googled: how late (STORE REDACTED FOR LOCATION ) is open

current obsession: ...I'm gonna be honest. In this moment it's the stroganoff I made for dinner. It's too good. This is my universe now.

looking forward to: ...more of this stroganoff please send help (and also: CHRISTMAS VERY MUCH and the Les Mis Hols reveals!!)

I gotta tag people!! uhhh @lemurious @bundibird @lemeute @thevagueambition ! Only if you want to! And anyone else who wants to play, please do!

[tastesoftamriel]

I hate hot food. For many reasons. I know a lot of Argonian meals are served cool/cold, but do the other races have meals intended to be the same way?

While not particularly common in some Provinces, chilled dishes can be found across Tamriel and are the perfect refreshment when hot food feels a little too weighty.

Altmer

Probably the Tamrielic masters of cold dishes, the High Elves are probably best known for their cold raw seafood dishes. Fresh fish, prawns, squid, octopus, sea urchin, and much more are sliced with a deft hand and served with wasabi and saltrice sauce. Sometimes, the seafood is placed atop rice and wrapped with a thin slice of nori to hold it together. While the idea of eating cold raw fish may not appeal to many, it's one of my favourite foods in Tamriel.

Argonians

Keeping clay or metal vessels submerged in water is an age-old Argonian technique of keeping their food cool, which is an absolute must in the hot and muggy climate of Black Marsh. Cold swamp jelly and seafood salad topped with grilled prawns and chilled marinated snails is a customary dish offered to visitors, and it's delightfully refreshing! The swamp jelly doesn't taste of much, but its soft, jelly-like texture complements the crunch of the seaweed.

Bosmer

Cold food isn't much of a thing for the Wood Elves, but one exception jumps to mind: the humble cottage cheese dip. Cottage cheese made from timber mammoth milk is aged in caves for two days, seasoned, and kept chilled. The dip is served cold with dried cured meats to dip with. It's not terribly exciting, but there's nothing quite as satisfying as eating meat and cheese in one bite!

Bretons

Chilled soufflés are all the rage in High Rock, and require lots of patience (and swearing) to master. Both sweet and savoury soufflés are served in this manner, from orange liqueur to parmesan and rosemary. My personal favourite is the chilled chili chocolate soufflé from the Rosy Lion in Daggerfall, part of their seasonal menu. The combination of rich dark cocoa with a touch of Alik'r spices is out of Nirn!

Dunmer

Chilled foods aren't an integral part of Dunmeri gastronomic culture, but certain Houses, namely the Telvanni, Hlaalu, and Redorans, do enjoy them. A Telvanni specialty is a cold chicken salad, where the chicken is marinated overnight in a blend of matcha, fire fern, saltrice sauce, and secret spices. It grilled and shredded, and served cold with hackle-lo leaves and gold kanet seeds atop steamed saltrice. However, don't let appearances fool you; any Telvanni with cold chicken salad leftovers can probably be found gobbling it at midnight straight from the cold cellar.

Imperials

The Gold Coast is famous for its chilled seafood soup, made with a creamy tomato and fish stock base, and loaded with all manner of fish and shellfish. While the hot variant from Bruma is more popular in colder climes, the cold seafood soup is a delightfully refreshing meal when beating the summer heat, especially when served with a mojito on the side.

Khajiit

If there's an excuse to make a food cold, the Khajiit will find it, and for good reason: the Deadlands-like heat of Elsweyr. Cold vegetable curries are a notable mention. Three or four small bowls of different curries, from mild okra to spicy potato, are served with moon sugar, saffron rice or tandoor flatbreads, and are meant to be eaten with your hands. I must say, though, that there's a rather jarring contrast between the cold curry and the searing heat you get from biting into a bird's eye chili.

Nords

Unlike the Khajiit, Nords look for any excuse to make food hot, with a couple of exceptions. Cold smoked salmon, mudcrab, or trout with dark rye bread is one of them. This rustic lunch dish is served with chilled horseradish cream, goat cheese, and fish roe topping, and is the perfect meal for when you want something filling that won't send you straight to sleep.

Orcs

Glass noodle salad is an Orcish delicacy said to have originated in Wrothgar in the early Second Era. The noodles, made from sweet potato starch, are thick and chewy, and are served chilled. To turn it into a salad, simply throw in some cold shredded daikon radish and carrots, sweet frost mirriam vinegar, peas, cold rare beef tongue slices, and fried chorizo. Easy and delicious, while packing lots of flavour!

Redguards

Cold foods are a welcome treat in Hammerfell, where the searing heat can be just as unbearable as Elsweyr's. Cold, pulled goat in a chilled tomato and harissa-based stew is eaten as a soup, and is a filling meal when mixed with bulgur or cous-cous. While it may sound and look a little like last night's disappointing leftovers, one bite of this on a Midyear day in the Alik'r will have you moaning with delight.

[frozen-fountain]

ROYGBIV Tag

Thank you @late-to-the-fandom for the tag!

Rules: Search your WIP for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpt. (I'm bending this and taking from a variety of fics, so they're all present.)

In turn I tag: @visualheresy, @runicmagitek, @keioschaos, @ourspecial, @frogs-in3-hills, @hrh-spinach, and @bees-and-sunshine!

Red

"The reddish light in the corridor, just like the lamp in their room, stopped her in her tracks. She hurried along to the wide window and stumbled back at the sight of it. It festered like an abscess in the sky, a black void ringed with red, glowing with palpable malice. Small and far away, but drawing all eyes toward it" - You Grow the Flowers Yourself.

Orange

"'Looks like we're good to go,' said Elena, standing vigil over the bubbling kettle. She'd set out their food on paper plates, arranged in a colourful flotilla; sliced beef cured with woodsmoke and lemongrass, spicy dried seaweed, pumpkin cookies, glutinous rice balls, a grab bag of nuts and seeds, and wedges of orange melon salted and preserved in lime. Yuffie would have made the journey with a skin of water and a pack of jerky in her bag, for the mountains provided their own bounty of bitter berries and mushrooms hidden under fallen leaves – if one knew where to look, and which were only edible once" - Spiced Black Tea.

Yellow

"The town watched from a distance as the Saucer went up, a prized gem that crowned the rolling beige beneath it, a bauble hung in the air over cracked, necrotic ground. “I wanna be Master Tonberry!” went the cry on the playground, every year as one ended and another began, and a higher-pitched “No, you were Master Tonberry last year, gimme the trowel!” followed. The cut-throat competition for the starring role spilled out after school hours and into the streets on the walk home, boys and girls in short pants brandishing any shiny metal implement they could get their grubby hands on. The winter play lost a little of its dark magic once you got behind the stage and saw how they made it happen – two tiny yellow bulbs poking out of a black cloth.

It took shape out of the darkness as the gate was raised, Dio's voice booming overhead while Barret reloaded, a trail of blood washed across the neon and noise of those suspended corridors on the way to the battle arena. The roar of the crowd, two little lights emerging from the pit and then a head took form, a roughspun robe with a lantern swinging in one hand and in the other, the knife, sharpened on the rocks of the underworld and gleaming in the spotlight. Barret let his jaw fall only for a moment, put up his shoulders, took aim -

Easy when they don't speak, ain't it? Just those two evil little eyes, shufflin' towards you" - Aperture Priority.

Green

"Celes trailed a hand dark with soil among the lotuses. The mirror-flat of the water shattered at her touch, the only movement in the greenhouse. Edgar built it just for her, her green hideaway below the dunes – probably, and she smiled to herself, after she expressed but a momentary speculative doubt that he could. But the sands had never bested him yet. Water summoned from springs deep below the earth passed through the engines that gave life to the castle, where it warmed on its way to trickle down among the seed beds. Dense condensation lent a ruddy glow to the windows, an invitation to all in passing to find her fragrant patch of green, and all the colours that bloomed there. A rainbow under skies that turned grey nary twice in a year" - Fogged Windows.

Blue

"Elena followed and took the rope uncoiling from the ground in both hands, wrapping her legs around it as she jumped into nothing. Her shoes fell from her feet, one after the other lost to the blue, and she laughed. The Highwind lurched forward and took her with it, hanging in mid-air over the glimmering sea sprawl of Costa del Sol. From some new and unknown cavity of her chest she found the air to laugh some more, buffeted by the salt wind as she clung to the rope and the women above her who held it. Below they swarmed in their all-black uniforms. Ant-like and indistinguishable from one another as they raised arms to take back something that was never theirs" - Dulosis.

Indigo

"They touched down in the foothills on what the crew swore was a morning, but the northern winters saw no sun for most of the day and they made their way from the ship into cloud-banked indigo gloom. Elmyra carried her materia in a small black briefcase and stepped onto the ground with a stamp as the snow cracked under her feet. 'I've never seen it like this,' she said, with a few falling flakes catching and glittering in the hair that strayed about her face. 'Where I grew up, we got frost on the ground and nothing more'" - Into the Night Uncharted (yes! I have one!).

Violet

"Outside the window was a grove of slim cedars, the herb garden, and Mireille hunched over on her knees. As Elena whisked oil with the sherry vinegar brewed by Runa over the river, Mireille sat transfixed by late summer flowers. Deep violet, dark red. Small splashes of violence against the drab earth colours the old woman made her uniform" - Dulosis.

[tryingtimi]

Ash and Rot PART II.

PART I. | PART II. | PART III.

It is quite the read, so I advise you to start it cautiosly. It's Cronyl's darkes moment in the story, which was inspired by If I Surrender by Citizen Soldier.

Context: Cronyl drank the previously offered na’koro juice, so the ritual could began. This is how it goes for him after it.

BOOK 3 EXPLORATION | BLOOD | DEATH | MENTION OF DEATH | VERY DARK PLACES | GRAPHIC VIOLANCE | WC: 1,121

Cronyl was falling. Cronyl was floating. He smelled ash, the itching, choking stench of dirt and dust. He danced and turned on his heels when he realized he was on a battlefield. His ankle spike sliced up one of his enemy’s throats with the movement. Just in time.

The Vessel’s body collapsed onto the ground; a swirling wisp of dust followed behind. Consuming black eyes stared at him, hollow echoing inside.

He was bleeding from a million cuts on his skin, his face aching, his wounds deep.

However, he vowed to protect.

Cold sweat drenched his forehead as he slammed his piercing wrist spike into another’s neck. A punch on his side made him grunt, but the Vessel fell when he pulled them down on the ground, his knee at their neck finishing with it a crunch. He didn’t feel tired, but he was panting. Exhausted. He didn’t know how long he fought, nor how long he has to continue doing it. There was no sign of the enemy, yet he felt as if there was no end.

Cronyl.

He killed another one with a kick, turning towards the calling. It came from Eldnar.

Cronyl!

Now, Darmon. The Vessels did not stop, they were attacking him, coming out of nowhere. They were all standing in a reddish-orange desert, black sky towering over them. Fresh blood spilled on the dried splashes on his body. When was this ending?

Cronyl! Syon screamed. Cronyl! Izohr shouted. Lad! Bra’aka roared.

He turned a hundred times, searching for the voices, but all he faced were growling enemies. Another Vessel. And another, and another. They walked up to him, trying to corner him, and surround him. But he didn’t give up however exhausted he felt. However heavy his limbs turned with every movement. He panted, his chest tight as if rocks weighed it down.

Yet, he was holding on so he could continue, so he could protect them. He could save them. He must do that. Always save them.

He saw the enemy’s weaknesses, their muscles. That... It couldn’t be. He touched his forehead when he turned to face a Vessel yet again. His eye, his red eye was free and working. It helped him. It controlled him.

It ruled him.

One look. Cronyl needed one look at his surroundings, to realize he was raging.

“Cronyl,” a familiar whimpering made him turn immediately. Avelyn was standing over the field of lifeless creatures laying on the ground, alone, abandoned… except they were no Vessels. Cronyl’s eyes widened as he stumbled forward, looking at Eldnar’s blood-covered figure. At his face. It was almost unrecognizable, the unmistakable cuts of spikes deforming his features. Beside him, Bra’aka’s head hit the dirt, face forward.

Cronyl saw his own hands tremble as he tried to reach after Darmon’s twisted body over the draar warrior. He was still holding Syon’s hand, her whole figure blanketed with cuts.

Chocking bubbled up in his throat when he turned his hands.

All of their blood dried to his wrists and palm.

“No.” He looked up at Avelyn. Who wasn’t before him anymore.

Her motionless body weighed his arms down when he glanced at them again. His knees sent a whirl of dust into the air as he fell to them, staring at the fresh cuts blooming on her face just like on Eldnar’s. Her chest never rose again.

Red throbbed in the corner of Cronyl’s sight while he held her closer.

“No!” Ice-cold dread froze up his veins, the smell of ash, rot, and death twirling into a visceral vortex. The touch of her cheek felt just as cold as his own, as he pressed his face to hers.

“No, no, no,” he quivered, voice cracked and raw, “this can’t be real. I can’t… I can’t lose you too.” He held her even closer, his hot tears meeting her almost frozen skin.

She seemed so fragile now, even more delicate.

Warm wind blew the blood-soaked sand far away, the grains sticking and nestling into his wounds.

“I…” Cronyl’s throat turned hoarse from agony scratching its walls. “I told you to stay away, but still you didn’t listen. None of you did! None of you… How? How could you imagine me as the rescuer of all?” He choked on a bubbling whimper, squeezing her closer to him.

Under all the various scents of terror, he could faintly smell ink and old books.

“It was their dream. My parents, it was theirs to save everyone, to change the world. Not mine, theirs, so I held onto it. I needed to, so a piece of them stayed alive. The cost didn’t matter.” Cronyl bent forward, rocking her and sobbing into her neck. “You didn’t know, Avel. I tried to tell you, not once, but I never could. You called me a “good man” for saving others. For caring. But you didn’t know.”

Burned flesh and blood; the stench blanketed her scent, devouring it all, his friends’ desperate voices echoing inside his mind constantly.

Then, the world began to spin.

“I cannot sleep, nor stay awake without seeing them. No matter if I open or close my eyes, all I can see is their death.”

Black clouds blended into the reddish dust whirling up from the ground as the world just spun, faster and faster. Cronyl was falling, crashing, drowning, breaking apart. The cracks on his soul widened, his chest merely ripping up to let everything out. Darkness erupted from him, gathering around, the monstrous sounds of the Vessels’ fading as it swallowed the rotting scenery.

“I don’t want to save anyone, Avel!” He rasped so loudly as if trying to shake her from a deep slumber. ”I never did. I don’t care! I just… I just want my parents back. That’s all I want.”

Everything shattered into nothing.

Cronyl heard only his own desperate weeping echoing as he pressed his empty hands to his wide-open chest, his forehead touching the earth. He squeezed his eyes shut, not being able to open them, yet he knew he was kneeling in a completely black, empty space. Alone.

There was no one and nothing left. He lost them all for the only, most vile one he couldn't proctect them from. Himself.

It didn't matter anymore, there was nowhere to hide, nor to supress. He had said it, he had shown himself.

He sorrundered, finally.

And with that, like the caressing of a gentle sunlight, a faint touch really; a hand slid onto his shoulder.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Since it's an off-week for YCDHN, here's a preview of Chapter Seven featuring Fjord and Beau!

It was hours later, after Fjord had become consumed with Camella’s ledgers and maps, that a courtesy knock on the door to the captain’s quarters heralded Beau’s arrival with a plate of dried sausage and sliced oranges and a look of deeper annoyance than usual etched across her face.

“I’d have brought you something from the mansion, but it vanishes the second you try to take it with you.” She laid the plate at the edge of the desk and then crossed her arms expectantly.

Fjord lifted a brow. “Did I do something wrong?”

She shrugged. “I mean, you kinda became captain and ghosted us a little.”

That couldn’t be the truth… Could it? He squinted at Beau, hunting for any kind of a tell and came up empty, so he dared to throw caution to the wind and call what might be a bluff. “Nah. I don’t think that’s it.” He leaned back in the captain’s chair and it creaked audibly, destroying his illusion of swagger and confidence. “You know what all this is about.”

“Making sure they don’t mutiny five seconds after electing you captain ‘cause they suddenly realized they made a mistake in a stressful moment?” Another shrug. “Sure. You don’t have to kiss their asses and ignore us to do it, though.”

Fjord leaned forward in the chair again, folding his arms on the desk and then suddenly becoming keenly aware of the fact that he just leaned right against fresh ink from his paperwork. It was sinking into his bracers and staining his sleeves and he simply brushed past it as if it wasn’t happening. Just commit to it. “I can’t look like I’m playin’ favorites, Beau.”

“You can’t look like you’re goin’ mad with power either. I’m not gonna say ‘oh you’re making some shit choices lately’ ‘cause we’ve all had moments like that, and so far your last one’s worked out, but isolation doesn’t help for future shit choices that might not work out. You need someone to pull you back.”

“That would be the quartermaster’s job.” He almost moved his arms to check his notes, realized what would happen if he did, and doubled down by leaning forwards just a bit more. “You want it?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I saw Camella’s running around all the time before he got ganked. Sounds like it might interfere with my barrel making.”

Fjord jumped upon the little detail, half out of curiosity and half to keep her from talking about him, like she might, well, barrel over his thoughts to get to the meat of the issue. “Yeah, what is with that? That’s not usually a job people are gunnin’ for.”

“It’s so stupid.” She collapsed into the extra chair in front of the desk. “When I was a kid and nobody could keep up with me, my dad would make me make barrels for the wine. It ended up being really soothing. Kinda like therapy for a shitkicker kid who couldn’t just sit still and wear dresses. He had, like, these really specific kind of barrels that were just for Lionett wine.” She paused. “And then when I got really good at making them- like absolutely fucking amazing at it- I could fill that shit up with grape juice and siphon the good stuff into shitty barrels and sell it on the sly.”

Fjord slowly blinked several times. “And you’re the one who pulls people back from the edge?”

She snatched a handful of the rock candy that was sitting in a conch-shell bowl at the edge of Camella’s deck (well- it was his desk now, he supposed). “Shitty is relative. If we wanted a moral guardian for all our shady calls, we’d have Caduceus on our asses all the time.”

Fjord did have Caduceus on his ass, albeit subtler since the Abundant Terrace. And then, of course, there was Molly who was half a hypocrite and the other half a self-righteous asshole to a degree that Caduceus could never compete with. What he needed, in this moment, was a middle ground. “So you wanna make barrels?”

Beau tossed a piece of candy into her mouth. “Helps me meditate.”

“All right. How about this- First Mate.”

“Wouldn’t that rank higher than the quartermaster?” She shifted the candy into her cheek so she could talk around it.

“Not exactly. A first mate would be more of a captain’s assistant on a ship like this, someone to keep me in check and keep tabs on the temperature of the crew. You can’t make barrels all the time.”

She considered that. The idea of being able to integrate herself among the crew and keep tabs would probably appeal to her and he really and truly wanted someone to fill that space, someone who would be discreet. Beau being unfriendly to the average person meant that most wouldn’t take her for a spy. Honey and vinegar and all that. “Okay, fair. I can do that.”

“That still leaves me short a quartermaster. None of the crew want it, so I’d need someone in the Nein to step up. Someone who’s got leadership qualities, who’s responsible…”

“Caleb?” Fjord made a face and Beau relented. “Yeah, he would laugh in your face if you asked him. What about Jester?”

“Jester? She’s not-“ He shut his mouth before he could say anything that Beau might punt him off the ship, mutiny be damned, for. “I don’t know if that’s a role for Jester.”

“But did you never consider asking her because you don’t think she’s qualified or because you’re avoiding her?” His cheeks started to burn. “Yeah, see? That right there? That’s suspicious face. What’s going on with you two?”

Nothing. Because I’m avoiding it until I can be sure I won’t break her heart again. He ducked his head so that he cough against his chest without lifting his hands. “That’s, uh… That’s not what we’re talkin’ about, Beau. There’s gotta be someone-“

A shadow darkened the light of the half-cracked door and Fjord heard a familiar, soft contralto voice singing just under her breath as she passed.

”I’d wait my turn on the broke stair Get me the girl with the gold hair.”

Fuck. Fuck. Now there was an idea. Forgetting his ink-stained arms, he leapt to his feet and darted for the door before Cree could slip away. Beau watched him go without getting up, yelling at him as he fled.

“Talk to Jester, man!”

“Don’t eat all my candy! Or my dinner.”

[obligatecarnivore]

Foods i want to try/ ingredients that intrigue me/ food I want to eat again

Linden 'chocolate', Miracle fruit berry, ruby chocolate, Mangosteen, Candied/chrystalized violets and rose petals, candied orange peel, watermelonr rind pickles, freeze dried strawberry, Parma violet candies, a salad made of pansy petals, freeze dried/ regular dried cornflower/rose/marigold/certain orchids/jasmine buds, tea bombs that are made of tightly compressed flowers wrapped around a ball of tea that explode outwards when put in water, sodastream, gold leaf sheets, slices of candied or freezedried citrus, rose syrup with rock sugar 😋, basiron ‘black cheese’, laba garlic (purple and blue also??), binari cheese flavoured seaweed rice crisps,

Flavour combinations?

For ice cream: Yuzu and matcha

Matcha and grapefruit

Raspberry and bee pollen

Hay and honey (made by marcus made a delicious pint of this)

Fav dishes

Pho, uzbek rice with raisins and meat, caraway seed german breadsticks,

[maya-eden]

First School Day

A/N: Hey, everyone! This is my first story on Tumblr so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: WandaNat x daughter!reader; Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Genre: Fluff; Angst if you squint

Pls, keep in mind that in this fic I named the daughter Elizabeth, 'cause I thought it was cute.

Word Count: ~3.9K

"Cut the apple in half. Place in the main compartment of the lunch box. Slice a piece of cheddar cheese in the shape of his mask. Use a little white cheese for the eyes and nori (roasted seaweed) for the mouth. Surround Iron Man with orange crackers.

Check ✔

Cut circles out of red wax on cheese round. Replace one so it appears as though there are red and white circles. Use a toothpick to attach a blueberry to the center and put a white star sprinkle on top to complete Captain America's shield. Place inside compartment and surround with raspberries...

Double-check ✔." The red-head smiled to herself, satisfied at her work, before continuing.

"In the second side compartment put dark-colored dried fruit. Cut out a fist shape from a spinach tortilla as shown. Place on top for Hulk's fist...

Final check ✔

Wanda ticked the third mental box off her list and clapped slightly to herself, closing the avenger's lunch box and reaching in the fridge for a mango juice.

Right as she placed the beverage beside the small water bottle she had just gotten, silent footsteps that she almost didn't hear, caught her attention.

A loud gasp escaped her at the sight that greeted her when she turned around.

"Who is the cutest little bunny in the world? I'm not letting you leave the house like this, everyone is gonna be head over heels for you." She reached the little four-year-old girl by the entrance of the kitchen area and picked her up.

"Mommy." Little Elizabeth whined and tried to hide her reddened cheeks by burying her face in her mother's neck.

"Aww, my baby." Wanda rubbed her daughter's back soothingly, knowing the girl was shy and despised the feeling of blushing.

Walking to the counter again, the witch let her daughter rest in her arms while she clung to the warm and calming feeling it brought her. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, finishing up her daughter's launch.

She was new at this, so she hoped Elizabeth wouldn't get hungry during the day and run out of food.

"Mommy loves you, bunny. You know?"

Wanda heard a soft little humming sound of confirmation in her ear and smiled at how cute her daughter was.

Just thinking about the fact that today was Eli's first day of school almost brought tears to her eyes.

It seemed as if yesterday Wanda was rocking her back and forth for the first time in the fancy private hospital room Nat had booked.

The spy wouldn't accept anything other than the best for Wanda and their daughter.

That feeling was maintained as their daughter grew up. Natasha wanted the best quality clothes, toys, food, etc. Whatever was for their daughter had to be checked by either Wanda or Natasha first. The protectionism over their child took some time but eventually eased up when it came to the rest of the Avengers.

Now Eli would be calling the rest of the group aunties and uncles as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It always made everyone feel like a real family. Like they weren't alone.

The child's fondness for the Avengers only continued growing with time.

Her favorite superhero was Iron Man, which greatly worked to inflate Tony's ego a whole lot. He even ended up accidentally boosting about it during an interview, and that is how the world found out the Black Widow and Scarlett Witch were together and had a young daughter.

Saying Natasha almost beat Tony up to pulp after that would be an understatement. Wanda had to use her powers to pry her wife away from the billionaire while also trying to keep herself in check and not attack him.

And when Wanda finally managed to calm Natasha down, the ringing of the elevator was heard and Tony dropped to the ground, trembling as the electricity from Yelena Belova's widow bites ran through his body.

Speaking of which...

"Mini-me! It's your very first school day, how excited are we?" The Russian accent rang throughout the room and made the child immediately perk up in her mother's arms.

Iron Man may be Elizabeth's favorite hero...but he didn't come close to reaching the love she felt for her aunt. It was unparalleled. She looked at the blonde spy as if the latter had hung the stars up in the sky for her.

"Aunty Lena!" Wanda carefully set her daughter back on the ground and watched with a smile as Yelena dropped her grocery bags on the floor and crouched down with open arms to meet and reciprocate her niece's affection.

"Oh my God, oh my God, little me...I'm gonna miss you so much. Who am I gonna take my naps with if you're at school? It's not fair!" Yelena closed her eyes tightly as she picked her niece up and held her in her arms, swinging her gently from side to side.

The adult's green eyes suddenly opened with a rather serious expression and she set her niece down in the kitchen isle to look at her. Eli's smile settled down at the unexpected change in her aunt's mood.

The Belova's hands rested on the isle, each one beside the sides of Eli's tights in a protective matter. "Okay, I wanna hear it. What do we do if some little freaks try to mess with my mini-me, Mini-me?"

"Tell you and you beat their bums." The response was immediately heard from the child and Wanda's eyes widened slightly before she shook her head with a chuckle.

Once again, Wanda almost missed the silent footsteps that walked into the kitchen area.

"Are you inciting my daughter to violence, Belova?" The sudden raspy voice startled the blonde woman but then made her roll her eyes as a smile grew on her face.

"Well, I'd be then one doing the beating...so no."

The response makes Natasha roll her eyes slightly before turning to her daughter, "Bubba, you ready to go?" She gently pat her daughter's head and walked to her wife, leaving a soft kiss on Wanda's lips.

Yelena's reaction was to cover her niece's eyes as they both simultaneously let out an 'ew'- something the blonde had very proudly taught the little girl.

"Go save yourself, Mini-me. I'll protect you." Yelena put her niece back on the ground and shielded her away from the view of her mothers kissing, acting as if they were some kind of enemy.

Elizabeth played along with a giggle and ran out of the kitchen area to her bedroom.

"The monster is coming for you!" Natasha suddenly ran after her daughter.

All Yelena and Wanda heard from their places was a loud squeal followed by adorable giggles that could make anyone swoon.

It didn't take long for the mother and daughter to be waltzing right back in, this time Elizabeth had her small vibrant green frog backpack and sat on top of her mother's shoulders.

The superspy had already made sure her daughter ate breakfast, brushed her teeth, and prepared her backpack for school. She was also the one who had prepared Eli's clothes- which consisted of a sleeved dress, with a long coat on top and boots. Her hair was pushed back into two braids that made her look even more adorable. She was ready.

"Remember baby, if you're feeling too hot ask the ladies there to help you take your jacket off. They are very nice and are there to help you."

Natasha repeated now for the third time.

Needless to say, she was nervous. The spy never thought she'd be able to have a child, so when Elizabeth was born, Nat treated her like the most precious diamond ever. Seeing her child leave for the first day of school made her heart clench at how fast her kid was growing up.

She was also worried about the fact that Elizabeth was younger than most of the other kids. Her birthday is late in December but they didn't want her to miss out on an entire year so she would start earlier than most of the other kids...Natasha's blood boiled at the simple thought of older kids trying to pick on her daughter.

'Positive thoughts, Natasha. Positive thoughts.' She inwardly repeated.

Wanda spent a good ten minutes saying goodbye to her daughter. She had a mission to prepare for so she couldn't take her to school, much to her dismay.

So she fussed over her daughter's outfit, explained and described every little food and ingredient in the lunch box, repeatedly kissed and hugged her, and ended by promising Elizabeth they'd have a Disney movie marathon and cuddle when she came back.

Natasha knew they weren't late so she let it happen, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a wide smile on her face.

By the time Wanda was finished though, it was time to leave. Otherwise, they would be late.

This is exactly why the ringing noise of the elevator arriving at their floor, followed by loud talking and clattering footsteps made the redhead spy's eyes widen.

"Oh hell no." She whispered to herself with a sigh.

Less than a second after that, a yell was heard. "Where is my biggest fan?!"

Tony waltzed into the kitchen with his suit on, followed by Steve, Bucky, Clint, Bruce, Peter, and Kate. They had left for a mission two days ago and it had gone visibly well, their excited smiles and continuous chattering a clear sign of that.

The moment their eyes settled on Elizabeth ready to go to school a ruckus was created.

Each one of them wanted to have a go at holding her and kissing her, wishing her a good start to school. And while when she was younger, Eli would start crying at everyone fussing around her, now she accepted it with a shy smile. As a baby, the girl barely let any of them, besides her mothers and aunt Yelena, hold her. Even them touching her left her grumpy. It took her a while to get used to all the Avengers, especially because she was so shy.

"Alright, guys we have to go. I don't want her late on the first day." Natasha tried to get her daughter from the billionaire's arms, only for him to pull away slightly, wanting to say something else to the child.

"Everything I have prepared you for is being put in question at this moment, kiddo. What is the square route of 81?"

"9." She answered immediately.

"Pythagorean Theorem..."

"a²+b²=c²"

"Area of Circle?"

"π * r²"

"A cosine is..."

"Adjacent to the hypotenuse." As Elizabeth finished off, proud tears reached Tony's eyes.

"They grow up so fast." He shakes his head, handing Eli back to Natasha and discreetly wiping his small tear.

"Right, we'll be back later. Say bye-bye, Eli." Natasha took her daughter's hand in her own as they walked to the elevator.

"Bye-bye, Eli." The child waved the rest of the Avengers away, receiving small chuckles at her unexpected joke and a nudge from her spy mother.

Yelena joined Natasha and her god-daughter on the ride, wanting to be there for the child's special day.

"Okay, baby. Do you have everything you need?" Natasha raised an eyebrow as she strapped her daughter to her baby seat, Yelena already seated at the front.

"Yes, mama." The child nodded, her feet rocking back and forth with excitement.

"I love you so much. Never forget that." Natasha kissed her forehead before closing the door and walking to the driver's seat.

The preschool wasn't very far away. A mere eight minutes from the compound, safely tucked away in a more calm part of town. There wasn't a better school to start in. Tony recommended it to them, after also having Morgan enrolled there.

"You'll be good, right bubba?" Natasha asked as she unstrapped her daughter and helped her out of the car.

"Course." Yelena rolled her eyes softly and held her god-daughter's free hand so the child was walking between them, hand in hand with them both.

Elizabeth was the most well-behaved person grown Yelena had ever seen, she'd never cause any trouble.

"Course." The child repeated after her aunt, receiving a prideful pat on the head from her and a snort from Natasha.

"Okay, baby." They stopped at the door of the school, two smiling teachers already waiting there for Elizabeth to reach them. They knew the whole 'saying goodbye for the first time' gig like the back of their hands.

"Off you go." Yelena found herself feeling quite sad at seeing her god-daughter go, even just for some hours.

The two sisters expected tears, denial, or even a tantrum. They were fearful of the child's reaction. Especially because Eli never dealt well with being away from her mothers. She ended up forming separation anxiety after having to watch her mothers go away on missions so frequently ever since she was a baby. Elizabeth wasn't dumb and knew how to read a room. Whenever her mothers were leaving for more difficult missions, worry and tension would spread across the compound, making the child understand they were leaving for something dangerous.

It also didn't help that sometimes they'd come back with injuries and blood all over their bodies.

The daughter worried for her parents so she began always trying her best to make them stay. Be it by pretending to be sick, throwing tantrums, or clinging to her mothers.

Hence why Yelena and Natasha weren't expecting this reaction.

"Okay." Elizabeth walked to the teachers and the doors closed behind her.

She didn't try to hold on to her mother's or aunt's hands. She didn't cry or look sad. She didn't even look back at them to wave goodbye.

Natasha felt shocked and then dejected.

"What the hell just happened?" Yelena let out also in shock.

"She dealt with that way better than I thought she would." The redhead's eyes were trained on the ground with confusion.

She guessed this was the better outcome. Her daughter wasn't distressed. Things went by smoothly. Natasha had to be thankful for that- no matter how much she would have loved to see a bit more reaction from Eli.

Wanda's eyebrows rose once Natasha told her what had happened. The red-head lay on their bed and looked up at the ceiling with a frown while the witch changed and prepared for her mission.

"Perhaps what gives her anxiety is watching us go. Not leaving herself." Wanda tried to pounder on an explanation. It was hard to get there and she found herself just as confused as Natasha was.

"I don't know. It was odd. I'm used to her clinging to me and not letting me go, you know? She's like a little koala." Natasha huffed, a faint pout coming to rest on her lips.

Wanda couldn't help but smile and lean in to kiss the pout away. She rested her forehead against Natasha's in hope of reassuring her wife.

"If something had happened, they'd call us. That means she's fine, detka. Don't worry so much, our baby is growing."

The two found themselves staring into each other's eyes in silence. As if reality had finally caught up to them.

Tears reached their eyes but then a knock at the door of their room was heard, followed by Steve's voice.

"Wanda, it's time to go." He called.

"Right." The auburn-haired woman wiped the little tear off the corner of her eye and watched Natasha do the same, "Coming!"

The two shared a long, passionate kiss. They didn't want to let go but knew full well if they didn't get up now the blond man would be knocking at their door again.

So Natasha accompanied Wanda to the Quinjet, softly rubbing her thumb on the back of the witch's hand.

"Please, call me after picking her up. I wanna hear her voice and ask her how it went." Wanda turned to Natasha once they reached the Quinjet.

"Nice to see you caring about how my day will go too." The red-head teased with a glint in her eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Wanda leaned in and took her wife's lips in her own for one last time before leaving.

"I'll see you, darling."

"In a minute, detka." Natasha nodded back at her and did her best to repress a sad smile as she watched Wanda board the jet.

They waved at each other as the doors closed and Natasha found herself looking at the watch on her wrist and then at the empty little spot beside her left leg. Her daughter would usually be holding on to that same leg when they watched Wanda leave.

This would be the moment where she'd turn to Eli and ask her what movie they should watch while waiting for Mommy to come back. And her daughter would always choose 'Nightmare Before Christmas' with an excited little jump in her step.

Not today.

It was already two o'clock, though. Elizabeth would be out at three.

So Natasha occupied her time by doing laps around the compound. She thought a little exercise would help her clear her mind.

It didn't, so she found herself arriving at the pre-school, half an hour before the correct time.

Somehow, she preferred waiting here. Here she felt closer to Eli. If something was to happen, she could just bolt inside.

Once more parents began arriving and waiting by the front door for their children, Natasha left her car and nervously rubbed her tights, joining them.

She noticed a few people gazing at her with shock and wonder. A few gasped and others stared mesmerized.

Natasha wasn't here for them, though. She came for her daughter only.

All the eyes on her began getting a bit too much, and the heavens above seemed to take pity on her since the children finally started leaving the school.

Elizabeth took a while to come out. She didn't appear too pleased, a blank expression attempting to cover her wide, fearful eyes.

"Gosh, why are you so much like me?" Natasha whispered to herself before raising her hand in the air and waving to get her daughter's attention.

The moment Elizabeth's eyes connected with hers, the child was sprinting to her mother's arms.

"Hey, bub. How did it go?" Natasha picked Eli up with a bright smile, now managing to fully ignore the eyes of other parents on her as she took her daughter's backpack in her hand and carried Elizabeth to their black BMW.

Natasha expected a response as nonchalant as Elizabeth had been that morning. A simple 'it was good' or maybe a cool shrug.

But when she pulled her daughter away from her chest and sat her in the child's car seat, her eyes widened at the endless tears running down her daughter's cheeks.

"Baby, what happened- why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?" Natasha immediately blurted out with a deep frown.

The child crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed out softly at her mother, turning to look away.

"Eli, look at me," Natasha said in a firm tone and reached to turn her daughter's chin to her. "What made you cry?"

Pouted lips and kicked puppy green eyes from the child got Natasha's heart clenching impossibly tightly.

"Why didn't you come in with me? You left me." More tears left the child's eyes until she found herself sobbing.

It took her a second until Natasha realized what had happened and a small smile formed on her lips as she leaned forward and hugged her daughter, "Oh, my baby."

Elizabeth must have felt so sad and scared when she turned to look back and didn't see her Mommy and aunt following her.

"Shh, you're okay. I'm here, baby. Mama's here." Natasha found herself using her softest tone and rubbing her daughter's back when the latter started to hiccup because of her irritated diaphragm.

"Shh."

Natasha eventually ended up joining her daughter in the back seat of her car and pulled Eli to her lap, trying to calm her down.

The child usually never cried this much, so seeing her this distressed left Natasha anxious. Her cool demeanor didn't fit the panic in her eyes, but she played it off.

It was almost four o'clock when a sudden ringing noise alerted Natasha. Her head had tilted back in the seat as she held on tightly to Elizabeth.

She answered the phone in record time, not waiting for it to also alert her daughter.

"Hello?"

"Darling, how did it go?" Wanda's voice came through, followed by a few unfamiliar grunts.

"My evening? Oh, yes. It was quite eventful." The joke slipped off her lips with ease after she looked down and saw the peaceful expression on her daughter's face. A stark contrast to her tear-stained cheeks and little sniffles that were still escaping her mouth.

"How's our bunny?" Wanda tried sounding annoyed but Natasha easily heard the smile in her voice.

"She's better now, fell asleep in my lap not long ago."

"Better now? What happened?" The confusion and worry immediately seeped into Wanda's voice and made Natasha smile.

"Well, remember how nonchalant she was this morning?"

A painful groan followed by screams and a small huff answered her before Wanda did, "Yes."

"Well, she thought Yelena and I would also be going to preschool and stay there with her. She must have turned around when she was inside and, all of a sudden, we weren't there. She cried a lot just now when I came to pick her up...said I left her."

An audible coe was heard from the auburn-headed woman on the other line. "Nooo, she must have been so scared, poor angel."

"Right? I felt so bad, Wands." Natasha shook her head and once again looked down at her lap, brushing back a few curls that had fallen to Eli's eyes.

"Tomorrow you come in and spend the day with her here in pre-school."

The sudden comment from Natasha had Wanda gasping before she chuckled, "As much as I'd love that, I'm pretty sure that is not allowed."

"You have powers, though. Everything's possible to you."

Another chuckle was heard from Wanda and Natasha smiled happily to herself, very gently setting Elizabeth down on her child's seat and strapping her in as she listened to Wanda fight off more enemies.

"Is she okay now, Nat?" The question is let out after Wanda found herself in silence. Her voice was gentle and still filled with worry.

"She is sleeping like the baby she is," Natasha replied as she pulled out of her parking spot and left the school venue.

"Okay, detka. I should be back tomorrow morning."

"Please, be careful, Wands. Don't try rushing it, I prefer you taking longer but coming home safe rather than quickly and injured, okay? I'm sure Eli agrees with me."

The witch sighed out, "Fine, Nat. I'm pretty sure my position has been uncovered so I should go. Free to call tonight?"

"Whenever you want, Detka."

[dickwheelie]

jmart first kiss? mayhapse in an au?

another merperson au, only this time Martin gets to be the monster!

______________

Jon was frankly shocked with how quickly Martin had taken to him. He knew he was hardly the most appealing of people, and wasn't sure what a human would see in him, let alone a merperson. But when he'd chanced upon Martin, sunning himself on the rocks by the beach where Jon often took his morning walks, it didn't take them long to strike up a sort of . . . rapport. Jon had been more than a little starstruck, distracted by the light reflecting off Martin's lovely blue scales, but he must have managed to say something right, because Martin had asked if he might find him on that beach again, sometime soon.

So, two days later, Jon was keeping his promise, heading back towards the beach from town where he'd picked up some breakfast for them both. He wasn't sure what Martin would like, or even really what he ate, so he'd brought some of everything: fruit, meat, fish, bread and cheese, and some pastries for good measure. He was a little nervous, which was silly, because this was only their second meeting, and it was hardly a date. Still, the thought of seeing Martin's dark, pretty eyes again made Jon wish he'd worn a slightly nicer outfit.

When Jon arrived at the rocky outcropping, Martin was already there, lounging on his side and letting the waves crash over his tail as he stared out at the sea before him, much the same as he'd found him two days ago. He really was stunning, Jon thought; his dark skin, dotted with freckles, shone in the pink morning light, his cloud of hair all but dried in the sea breeze, his magnificently long, broad tail almost glowing in the sun. He looked like a king surveying his kingdom.

And then, as Jon began to climb the rocks to join him, Martin looked down at him and a smile broke across his face, bright as the light coming off his scales. Jon could see that his mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth. "Jon!" he called, and Jon, panting a bit, waved back as he crested the rockface. "You came. I didn't think . . ."

"Of course I came," Jon said, a tad breathlessly, depositing his bag of food and sitting down next to Martin. The seaspray up here was welcome but constant, and he set about untying his boots to let his feet get wet. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"You didn't have to," Martin said. "Most people don't. It's not exactly convenient." He gestured at the secluded area around them.

"It was no trouble. I live close by this beach and it's very beautiful, here." Jon glanced over at Martin, trying not to appear too smitten. "And I really enjoyed our talk. After I left the other day, I kept thinking about you. I couldn't wait to see you again." Jon forced himself to stop talking; he had a sinking suspicion he'd said too much already.

Martin was staring at him with those pretty eyes of his, his expression soft and intrigued. "I had a really nice time too, Jon."

"I, ah--I brought breakfast," Jon burst out, and pulled his bag over to show Martin what was inside. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so . . . I got a bit of everything. Take whatever you like, please."

Martin eagerly examined the goods, eventually choosing a trout, which he ate whole and raw, and several oranges, which he used his sharp claws to peel in record time. Jon tucked into the bread and cheese and a few of the pastries. He and Martin shared the oranges, passing slices back and forth, as they continued their conversation from before almost seamlessly.

It was remarkably easy, talking to Martin, and fascinating as well; Jon had never properly met a merperson before and Martin had so many stories to tell. He was eager, too, to hear about Jon's life as a human, but Jon suspected that was merely polite interest.

Before Jon knew it, they'd nearly emptied the bag of food and the morning had all but passed. Jon had errands to run and work to do, but he didn't want to leave Martin's side. Up here, on the soaked rocks with the sea stretched out before him, with such lovely company, Jon couldn't recall feeling so at home before.

"I should go," Jon said at last, trying not to sound as morose as he felt.

"Oh," said Martin, shoulders drooping in disappointment. He peered closely at Jon's face. "You have to," he said, a statement, not a question.

"Yes. Unfortunately." Jon slung his bag over his shoulder, and reached for his boots. "But listen, this was--this was very nice, and we should do it again soon."

"Tomorrow?" said Martin, perking up a bit.

It was so soon, but Jon's stomach fluttered in excited anticipation. "Ah--y-yes. Tomorrow is good. If that's alright with you?"

Martin grinned wide, and there was another flash of two rows of sharp, white teeth. "Tomorrow, then." And, before Jon could finish lacing his first boot, Martin leaned in close and kissed him, careful but insistent, on the cheek. He kept his mouth closed, mindful of his teeth, but Jon nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise anyway, and Martin pulled away almost at once.

"Oh, Jon, I'm sorry--I-I thought--" Martin looked horribly embarrassed, biting his lip nervously with one of his fangs.

Jon's face, he imagined, was probably about the same color the sunrise had been, but he shook his head repeatedly. "No, no, Martin, it's alright--" He leaned back towards Martin and took his clawed hands, wanting to reassure. "You--you caught me by surprise, is all. I--that was--" Jon made a little noise of frustration--words!--and instead leaned forward and pressed his lips to Martin's.

He felt Martin go still against him, but after a second or two he relaxed, leaning into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Jon's waist. Jon felt something damp and scaly against his legs, and when he opened an eye, he saw Martin's tail winding around them, the bright blue standing out beautifully against Jon's dark skin.

Though Jon had initiated the kiss, Martin quickly took charge, pressing himself insistently close and putting his teeth to good use by nipping at Jon's lip in a way that made his legs go weak. Jon couldn't recall ever being kissed so thoroughly before, and for a few minutes he happily lost himself in it, basking in Martin's careful attention, until they both had to come up for air. Or, at least, Jon did; he wondered, in the back of his mind, whether Martin needed to breathe, or if his gills took care of it for him.

Martin pressed one last closed-mouth kiss to Jon's lips, and began untangling himself. "You should get going," he said, sweetly and perhaps a bit self-assuredly.

"Right," said Jon, looking down at his one unlaced boot, dangling precariously from his foot. He tied it carefully, and then moved on to the other one, as Martin looked on curiously.

"That must get so annoying," said Martin.

"It rather does," Jon said, and, feeling bold, pressed another kiss to Martin's cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Sharp fangs made their appearance again, standing out against an adoring expression. "See you tomorrow, Jon."

[ohhicas]

hey I got bored at work and made a KH Cafe ‘Menu’ but entirely Org13 themed some are suppose to be the ‘main’ things while the others are me panicking and like “WELL, SHIT,” throwing ideas out against the wall

all for funsies cause im fully aware these won’t look cute on a plate, but hey. it’s the org. they’re the edgy emo kids.

Xemnas:  

   Meal: Hayashi rice with pickled ginger on the side and the cream swirl. The rice is dyed yellow and in the molded to the shape of a heart. Complimentary clear red chopsticks come with the meal.    Drink: Shaken espresso served in a martini glass. Lightly flavored with vanilla and a cinnamon sugar lip    Dessert: Affogato with vanilla ice cream, cinnamon sugar dusting, and shaved chocolate. An acrylic of his weapon (however hard it is to make two laser swords look cool) comes laying against the serving plate.

Xigbar:  

   Meal: Pumpernickel, cream cheese, and salmon half-sandwich. Side of a spicy cucumber salad and toothpick skewered tomatoes. The acrylic of the arrow gun is attached to a toothpick, which is holding the sandwich closed.    Drink: Black peppercorn infused blackberry syrup with club soda. Served not stirred for layering effect. Comes with an acrylic of his arrowgun attached to the stir-stick       Dessert: Two slices of roll cake, chocolate outside with an anko cream filling. Plated so they're half laying on each other with a thick chocolate drizzle going across the left side of both cakes. The plate is dotted with whipped cream with a fanned strawberry leaning against it. 

 Xaldin:    

   Meal: Chicken omurice with three strips of seaweed across the egg. Comes with three mixed skewered vegetables on a small bed of lettuce.    Drink: A delicately layered drink with blackberry puree at the base, a rose jelly and syrup layer,  and carefully topped with soymilk. Stirring with the provided berry skewer on a themed Xaldin lance stick will blend the flavors.    Dessert: A single slice of a dense chocolate cake with edible, dried rose petals. It’s more of a torte than a true ‘cake’, and has three blackberry glaze drizzle stripes across the slice.

 Vexen:    

   Meal: A small bowl of cold cucumber soup with four cream cheese tea sandwiches. Each tea sandwich has two to three small heart-cut pink radish across the top.    Drink: Blue cream soda carefully layered to fade to clear on top. It’s topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and some white snowflake shaped sprinkles.    Dessert: Two scoops of coconut flavored ice cream dressed up with whipped cream and coconut shavings. The ice cream balls have a stripe of strawberry preserve and a few dots of mango to pose as buttons to theme it like a snowman. An acrylic standee of his Snowman shield is stuck in the whipped cream

Lexaeus:  

   Meal: Curry plate with chicken katsu cutlet. Instead of laying on a bed of rice, the chicken lays against side vegetables with the rice is shaped into a mound, placed center of the curry. An acrylic image of Lexaeus's skysplitter is placed into the rice, handle sticking up.    Drink: Hot orange spice tea. Nothing too special, but there is a slice of orange pressed to the bottom of the shallow cup that can be eaten after, if you’re in to warm fruit.    Dessert: A caramel cake baked in a rock shaped mold. It sits on a bed of five banana slices and drizzled with caramel sauce. A few dark brown and orange candy chocolate rocks are also scattered around the base.

 Zexion:    

   Meal: An open face sandwich on toast, layered with lettuce, cheese, and ham. The top of the ham is decorated with the Organization's logo in mayonnaise. Comes with leafy side salad and fruit.    Drink: Blueberry fruit syrup layered with club soda and edible pearl powder to give the drink an illusionist shimmer. Topped with just enough cream to reach the top of the glass and a dusting of dried blueberry powder.    Dessert: Six small shortbread cookies decorated in icing fondant to look like the cover of his book. Served with dipping chocolate. Comes with an acrylic souvenir of his book.

 Saix:  

   Meal: Hamburg steak plate with a decorative X shape of mayo across the sauced top, served on a small bed of rice. Comes with a side salad of mixed vegetables and crescent moons of baked kabocha squash. An acrylic of the Claymore is pressed into the center of the steak as if it was slammed in.    Drink: Lavender syrup mixed with American lemonade only until the drink resembles a light grey color rather than a heavy lean into yellow or purple. Decorated with a lemon slice cut to resemble a moon.    Dessert: Dome mousse cake with a deep blue finish. The mousse is lightly lemon flavored with a center of blueberry jam, and resting upon a vanilla cake base. The cake is decorated with a fondant crescent moon and a dusted golden X. Comes with a candied lemon wedge.

 Axel:  

   Meal: A slice of pepperoni pizza, piled high with small cupping pepperoni, and dusted with chili flake. A side of a tossed, leafy salad is provided to help cut through the heat. A chakram acrylic comes attached to the salad, skewering a tomato wedge.    Drink: Tomato juice and beet juice layered together to make a light gradient-- heavier on the tomato than the beet. Top is sprinkled with cayenne for a little bit of an added kick. Decorate with a small celery leaf.    Dessert: A blood orange flavored cake, square cut and layered into three small tiers with raw edge sides. The top is sugar crusted and crisped in a brulee, with a sun fondant decoration wedged into a few peaks of cream. A twist of candied orange is also placed as decoration

 Demyx:  

   Meal: Small dish of seafood doria with a side of green vegetable to cut through the heavy dish. No broccoli is in the doria itself, and is instead decorating the side leafy salad. An acrylic of his sitar is laid across the salad.    Drink: A tall glass with a clear, bubbly ramune flavored soda. Blue soda-candy jelly is at the base. It’s served cream soda style, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream balanced at the top and a long blue straw.    Dessert: A raindrop cake with a soft blue-green gradient. The top is dusted with kinako powder. For how simple the dish is, it comes with a side of seasonal fruit and a plastic spork styled at the top to resemble his sitar's handle that you can take home.

Luxord:  

   Meal: Caprese bites on a bed of lettuce. The cheese and basil base remains the same for each, but the cherry tomato on top varies between a bright red tomato or a dark purple skinned tomato. The salad has a balsamic drizzle and card suits cut vegetables.    Drink: An espresso served with a small container of cream and two sugar cubes, chocolate-dotted to be dice.    Dessert: Chocolate lava cake with a deep red filling, dusted with powdered sugar. It's served alongside thin cookies decorated into playing cards. It can be turned into a meal set with the drink option. 

 Marluxia:  

   Meal: Salad full of mixed greens and colorful radish. Designed to be incredibly colorful, it’s got a few little blooms of edible flowers wedged around the plate. Comes with a few flower shaped breaded chicken ‘nuggets’ along the rim.    Drink: Rose syrup infused sparkling lemon soda, decorated with dried rose petals. There’s the smallest bit of strawberry syrup at the bottom of the cup to really make a pink color. A wedge of lemon decorates the rim.    Dessert: A thin, crisp almost crepelike shell in a low dish holds mixed berries, mint, and thick soft chunks of pound cake. The whole thing is drizzled with a sweet rose syrup. An acrylic of his scythe hangs out among the cake bits.

 Larxene:  

   Meal: Two skewers of karaage laying on a bed of cabbage with tartar sauce and two wedges of lemon. The other side of the plate has fries with a bit of mustard drizzled across the tips.    Drink: Layered cream soda, blue syrup at the bottom that fades into a pale yellow. It's topped with whipped cream and comes with sour popping candy meant to be mixed into the drink to activate the light carbonation. Comes with an acrylic charm of one of her daggers.    Dessert: Shaved ice with yuzu and orange drizzle. It’s a stretch to include it under the Larxene umbrella, but the sour notes should bring forth thoughts of lightning and shocks.

Roxas & Xion:

   Meal: Roxas and Xion share the same half sandwich, as if it was once part of a whole sandwich and split into two meal plates. They differ in that Xion gets a side leafy salad with radish and carrot, and Roxas gets french fries. [ and then i gave up makin them desserts & drinks, since they have the seasalt milk ‘drink’ at the actual cafe ]

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 12- Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: The battle for Sodden Hill is not over yet, your forces are almost all dead and the Nilfgaardian army is close. Things have been better, maybe by destiny they will?

Warning: blood & gore, feels, angst, fluff

Masterlist

You scream in fury as hot white lighting sparks from your opened palms and into the bodies of countless Nilfgaardian men, they fall in agony, their bodies twitching as they quickly meet a violent and painful end. You've been in battle all day, the forces of the enemy holding much better then you'd anticipated, nonetheless you've held your ground the absolute best you can.

You will not fall.

The sun has long abandoned the land and let darkness consume her whole, the woods around Sodden Hill on the other hand have been alive with the sounds of screaming and swords clashing. In the jumble of bodies and angry soldiers had you unfortunately managed to misplace your dagger, while also getting yourself sliced by a silver blade across your collarbone and left rib cage. Resorting your self defensive weaponry to the use of your destructive dark gift. And now more then ever have you been glad to make use of it.

It feels not enough.

The opened wound adorning your collarbone is small enough that it's not much of a bother for the time being, but the slice to your rib cage burns and seeps with hot wet blood as you move through the brush. You're certain that the leaves you part away are leaving a blood trail when you skim past them as you walk through the woods.

You wander though the thick underbrush in search of Yennefer and Tissaia, you've made sure to keep yourself hidden from Nilfgaard for as long as possible as you hunt for them in the darkness, also considering you're injured and bleeding, better to not draw any attention to yourself.

A few stray droplets of shining red fall to the forest floor while you stumble across a small downed log, praying that they're still alive in the woods somewhere, they have to be, your numbers are already dwindling every minute as Nilfgaard progresses.

Your eyes scan over the near distant patch of evergreens weeping low to the ground as a sudden flicker of light catches your attention, your eyes keenly follow as a torch and many soldiers charge through the thick conifers in the opposite direction of you to your great relief. They are oblivious to your existence as they hunt relentlessly for any sign of movement in the forest. Suddenly your ears prick to the tell tale individual beats of the heiress' and Yennefer's nervous hearts, walking further, you emerge from some bushes to find Tissaia and Yennefer on a grassy hill. Tissaia's hands outstretched as she casts some type of defense spell while Yennefer clutches her arrow wound, breathing heavily in the night air.

A feeling of great relief washes over you as a tired smile breaks out upon your dirt smudged face, "You're alive! Both of you!" You cry, sounding the most eased of your problems in quite some time. Yennefer finds your eyes, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as you shuffle closer to the two of them, your ribs hurting with each step.

Tissaia slowly turns, her face is an absolute mess, her clothes dirty and her hair a disordered nest upon her head. She smells of sweat and blood and fear as you catch her tired blue eyes with your crimson ones, "Y/N." She rasps, reaching a hand out to you, you take it, keeping the other pressed firmly against your opened flesh.

You take a heavy breath, "Sabrina needs your help. Yennefer told me, she probably said...why are you not...where are..." You pause for a moment to take another breath and regain your words, it even hurts to breath, they notice your discomfort as an explosion sounds from the near distance, "We all do."

She lowly smiles before her face contorts into a pained expression, a whimper escapes her lips as she clutches the side of her stomach before falling to her knees. You quickly kneel down, a look of deep worry upon your own bloody face as you gently touch her arm, "No! No! Not now Tissaia, the Northern Kingdoms are close..." You plead desperately, she stares back at you through dazed eyes as Yennefer joins your huddle upon the dewy grass, "We can't give up." Your voice a rasped whisper.

Gods my throat is dry.

More explosions sound in the far distance as you grasp her shoulder, her face is sad with defeat and fear as tears fall down her sweaty blooded cheeks, "We need you, what do we do now?" Your voice is shaky and desperate, a frustrated tear falls down your face as you feel more sticky blood oozing out from your fresh wound.

Tissaia says nothing, her eyes taking in everything you're saying but looking rather vacant at the same time, you nod in understanding before releasing her shoulder. She sits down and turns to stare off lost into the far off firelight flaring through the thick woods. Understanding her exhaustion you move away from her to seat yourself atop the grass as you grimace in pain. Gods your deep battle wound hurts like a bitch, the fucking skin not immediately healing due to the silver. This may suck but in retrospect you've done one-hundred times more damage to Nilfgaard then a simple slash to your ribs.

You can be an optimist Y/N, but you know they hit bone. It bleeds too much.

Yennefer takes your once close position next to Tissaia, she looks desperately into the blue eyed mage as she grasps onto her shoulder, "You...you saved me. I won't ever forget that." Says Yennefer, her voice breaking as tears well up in her violet eyes.

Tissaia smiles a pained one, touching Yennefer's cheek before letting her hand fall, her blue eyes playing downcast as she looks out into the exploding woods. Yennefer's head falls as her lip quivers, her lavender irises trailing over to you in a last hopeful effort to find help. She kneels down by your side, her face expectant as you stare up at her, feeling almost in a blurry daze.

Yennefer blinks, her voice but a determined whisper, "Y/N, we have to fight. I can't do this without you, I can't." You breath through heavy painful breaths as a small trickle of your own blood trails out from your mouth, her brows furrow in deep worry as she finds your bleary eyes, "Y/N?"

Your breathing is almost ragged now as you gently reach out to touch her arm, "It's your turn...to save the people, this Continent. This is your legacy."

Her face is pained, "How? I can't!"

"You can!" Your voice is stronger now, "Everything you have ever felt, everything you've buried..." Your free hand softly touches her cheek, a small smile upon your lips, "Forget the bottle, forget the djinn. Let your chaos explode." She looks deeply into your shimmering crimson eyes, not an ounce of falseness lacing your words. She furrows her brows as the two of you lean your sweat covered foreheads against one another in a comforting manner.

"Be a dragon."

She slowly pulls away, rising to her feet as she parts from you, knowing exactly what must be done if you're all to survive this night. You watch as she slowly stumbles over across the grass, standing in between two large boulders, she faces the Elven Keep that is currently aflame. She pauses for a couple long moments before turning and climbing up the giant heavy stone, a small stream of blood drips out of your nose as you keep your eyes on Yennefer the whole time.

You feel so tired.

Tissaia gently touches your shoulder as she wills you to stand, rising to your feet the both of you wait in anticipation for what she's about to do next, her vessel atop the highest rock, she looks down upon the grassy woodland valley. Mages fight close by as you ignore their hardships and the terrible sounds of Nilfgaard soldiers as they charge in your direction. You ignore them all as Yennefer makes eye contact with you, she nods before thrusting her hands down, a scream of fury erupting from deep within her lungs.

Fire emits from her opened palms like a fearsome dragon throwing her wrath across the land, the bright hot flames dance in your direction as you and Tissaia fall to the ground for cover. Though you know better, it's no use, the fire will certainly end your long life in an instant.

I'll miss you Geralt. I'm sorry.

You cover your face in dreaded anticipation as the hellfire of heat passes you and Tissaia without giving you so much as a burn. You can hear the piercing screams from the nearby soldiers as they burn in agony from Yennefer's grand display of chaos. Your glistening eyes look around you, nothing but a hot orange glow surrounding yourself and Tissaia as you suck in astonished ragged breaths.

Yennefer you amazing woman. Burn those fuckers.

The flames consume around you, hot wind brushing past your face and conveniently drying away all the sweat as you let the blaze swallow whole the forest full of soldiers. Then just like that does the fire end, the spewing wrath of Yennefer going almost as suddenly as it had come. Your eyes lock with Tissaia's as she helps you stand, your sights finding nothing but charred ground and smoky ash in the aftermath.

You take a small step forward, you can't hear her heartbeat anymore, she's gone.

Nothing.

"Yennefer." Whispers Tissaia, unsure of where the violet eyed mage has gone, she suddenly walks past you in search of the missing sorceress, "Yennefer!" She shouts again and again while looking all around the scorched field.

"Yennefer!"

A couple stray tears fall down your ashen cheeks as a quivering smile forms across your face while you fight the urge to laugh at how terribly everything has gone, dried blood cracking on your skin as you grin, "We're alone Tissaia." Your voice is hoarse, the blue eyed mage turns to you, her eyes wide.

"No. We can't b...she can't....she can't be gone." Her eyes are sad with fearful grief.

"I can't sense her near." You shake your head, "No heartbeat but yours and mine. She did the most bravest thing she could have done, there is nothing more we can do now..." Your eyes fall to the smoking grass, "I don't know....I can't sense her anymore...she's just....she's....gone..." Tears fall freely now at the loss of your friend, heavy breaths hurting your rib cage as you try to stop yourself from sobbing.

Not another friend, gone. Not her too.

The hollow and empty feeling of loss consumes your entire vessel as you stand among charred Nilfgaard soldiers and fallen mages, you take another step forward, your face downcast with sadness and anger.

Your fist clenches, pain and anguish coursing through your heart, "It shouldn't have ended this way!" You shout in a fury, your ribs falling into agony as you start to cough.

Tissaia casts her eyes away from your fuming desperation, "No, it shouldn't have."

Taking in ragged breaths you look out into the scorched forest, "I guess now I'll truly be alone forever. How terribly sad." You snicker though there is no humor in your words, "Huh, I should have never left Geralt." More tears and blood patter to the charred grass as you hold your side, "Tissaia, go back to Aretuza. Leave this mess, go before it's too late. She may have killed everyone in the woods, but more still live beyond her flames. I can't have you dead either."

"Where will you go then?" She wonders, glancing down at your sliced flesh hidden behind your fingers, her voice laced with concern, "Y/N, if you stay you'll die."

"I know." More blood patters to the ground, "I need to feed, human blood is the only thing that can heal this type of wound." You grimace in pain once more, "I can't help what I am, it's the only way I will survive this."

She nods in understanding, "Be careful Y/N. It is not safe."

You lowly chuckle despite the pain, "Thanks for the forewarning, hopefully any surviving soldiers know that. Because I don't intend to keep a single one of them alive if we cross paths."

She hands you a small smile in return, "Till we meet again."

"Goodbye Tissaia."

She watches as you trudge into the burnt and smoky forest, out of sight in an instant as you wander into the night. She stands alone atop the singed earth as you wander through the blackened trees, letting the scent of Nilfgaard soldiers lead you to your first victim, if any are still alive that is.

Hopefully soon, gods this knife wound hurts.

Your eyes adjust perfectly to your surroundings as they had in the beginning of the night, all colors now of dull greys, blues, purples, greens, and black. No one but a Witcher could see as well as you. For some time do you stumble through the charred trees and logs until finally have you made it to the other side. You walk out into a grassy opening, the air is fresh and cool as you scan the area in search of life.

You walk forward and notice the tell tale signs of Nilfgaard, they were undoubtedly here, the grass is matted and horse shit wafts into the air. They are still very close, you can almost....suddenly a stick cracks from your left alerting you to a new sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Two heartbeats. Hooves thudding against the dirt.

A slender faced man appears from the tree line atop his steed, his face dirty as his piercing blue eyes squint at you in curiosity. He is without a doubt from Nilfgaard, his strange black armor giving him away instantly, a crest of the golden thin star marked on his chest. Oddly enough he still looks rather attractive, in a sadistic cold hearted kind of way, Geralt would without a doubt be making fun of you if he was here to read your facial expressions.

You and the blue eyed stranger make eye contact as he leads his horse closer, once he's close enough to better see your face does he click his tongue signaling the horse to halt. If he's nervous he sure doesn't show it, most men would either cower away or immediately show aggression once they've glanced at your ruby irises.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Another heartbeat. Another man.

An armored soldier breaks from the tree line and stops, staring at the two of you, unsure of what's to happen next. The first man eyes you suspiciously as he lays a careful hand atop his sheathed sword.

"You are not human?" He wonders in a questioning statement, eyes trailing up and down your body in a cautious way rather then anything else more sinister. You stare up at him through irritated eyes, a hand still covering your wound, as your free one taps the side of your thigh.

"I am not the only monster to stand upon this land. You inbred Nilfgaardian cocksucker." He grimaces in disgust, clearly not anticipating that kind of blatantly bold answer, nonetheless he stares on still unsure if you're a true threat or not.

The other soldier takes a couple proud steps forward, instantly his ragged sword is out in an act of dominance, "You foockin' bitch, how dare ya call The Black Knight Cahir aep Ceallach by such a derogatory name." Huffs the loyal soldier as he spits in the direction of your feet, his black sword flashing in the bright moonlight.

You tilt your head to the side, a fangy smile stretching across your ashen face, "Oh, forgive me then. But as it would turn out, I don't give a fuck." You sneer with hatred, Cahir's eyes darken at your words.

Oh, you've got him now.

"Sebastian. Kill her." Commands The Black Knight with a simple nod, his loyal man smirks before raising his sword and charging at you like a wild animal.

Cahir watches in anticipated curiosity from atop his horse as his devoted soldier makes quick thunderous steps in your direction like a raging blunderous fool. You take one last even breath, enjoying the dull throbbing of your wound before you send it into agony once again.

You steady your feet, staggering them as you turn your shoulder so it faces the charging man, when your scarlet irises catch the brown of his bulging eyes do you launch yourself over his head swifter then he's able to comprehend. Flipping in the air above him you quietly land upon the soft earth once again before using all the strength you have left to throw yourself atop the man. His sword is ripped from his hands as you pin him to the ground in a fury.

His glossy brown eyes lock onto your flaming red ones, he shakes in fear before you push his neck to the side and bite down hard into his soft warm flesh. His scream pierces through your ears for a few seconds as he struggles underneath you, a moment later all goes silent as his body turns limp in your grasp. His blood is warm and absolutely delicious as it pours down your throat and seeps into your system, you can already feel your silver inflicted injuries healing as you drain the life from the soldiers body.

Once all his satiated and you feel one-hundred percent you again, do you release him, standing to your full height you turn around to face the wide blue eyes of Cahir. He quickly pulls his sword out as his horse neighs in nervousness underneath him.

"My god you're a vampire." He reveals astonished, swallowing hard as you study his fearful expression.

Blood trips down your chin and onto the grass below as an amused smirk plays at your lips, "A dhampir my good knight, sorry to disappoint." You chuckle, "Now I must be off, your friend was all I needed and now I am satisfied." He stares intently as you continue, "From here I plan to leave this fucking place and I intend to do so in peace. So I warn you, if you try and stop me I will end your pathetic life, you can try to slice me from atop your weak legged detestable meat-bag of shit. But if you dared raise that filthy sword at me, you will lose."

He blinks, thinking over your threatening proposition, just then he slowly brings the sword to his side and carefully sheaths it, his eyes never leave yours, "I will accept these terms." His hands tightly grip the leather reigns of his nervous horse. His face stoic as he clenches his jaw, he doesn't appear to appreciate being told off.

"Good." You smile politely, your face falling in an instant, "Now fuck off."

His face is stone as he clicks his tongue once more before kicking the sides of his steed, you watch as he hastily gallops on past you from a safe distance and out of sight into the thick brush.

This is a Knight of Nilfgaard, interesting.

——

After cleaning yourself up with crystal clear water from a nearby stream did you begin your search for a trail, anything that could take you to some kind of civilization or a fucking tavern for that matter. You wandered in bored frustration for almost the entirety of the day, your vampiric stamina keeping you awake and on guard as you trudge your way through the woods.

Your stomach growls, you haven't had a proper meal since Aretuza, and right now you're honestly desperate enough to take a bite out of anything. Though with the gracious scent of a deer wafting into your nostrils, your more primal instinct kicks in, your eyes narrow as you stalk your way through the bushes. The scrawny bastard stands near a tiny stream, you take another step and crack, a damn stick, the deer finds you standing in the greenery and books it away in the opposite direction.

Letting out an annoyed "fuck" you make good use of your legs by racing after the doe, your chase is short lived when she runs out of the wood line and closely past a horse and it's rider, though you're moving so fast that you don't have time to register what's in front of you until its too late. With a thud do you smack right into the front of the powerful mare, she neighs loudly in alarm while you stumble clumsily into the dirt.

Letting out a breathy huff, you inhale sharply, your sights fuzzy and spotted as you blink hard, trying to collect your bearings once again. Holding yourself up by your elbows you try and shake off the whiplash you've just received when the rider suddenly speaks in confused astonishment, "Y/N?"

Raising your head to the gruff voice your crimson eyes go wide in shock, your heart practically catching in your throat as you stare, "Uh, Geralt?"

His big beautiful golden irises trail across your disheveled state as you continue to stare, mouth a-gap, before he quickly jumps off of Roach and takes swift steps to your side, looking rather concerned. He reaches a hand down for you to take, that you willingly accept without a second thought he pulls you to your feet, quickly letting go of your hand, his brows furrowing as he tries to find his words.

"Y/N. How are you here...I though that you were....well, uh....where did you come from?" He questions, just about tripping over his words he's so confused but also incredibly relieved to see you nonetheless. It's been weeks.

"I...was hungry." Immediately slips out, nice one you idiot. His brows furrow once again, unsure what to do with that information and honestly taken so far aback by your random intrusion in the middle of nowhere.

He finally sighs, his eyes finding yours, "It's been almost four weeks."

You swallow, "Oh.....Has it now? Didn't notice." Your voice is smaller then you'd intended, but he can see right through your nonchalant answer. He knows you.

Clearing his throat he look to the ground then at a bush to your left, awkwardly avoiding your gaze as he thinks of what to say next, "Uh...I went to Cintra, and well, um....I didn't get the child surprise...the kingdom, it's gone to..."

"Shit." You nod, "Yeah, I know. I uh....went with Yennefer to Aretuza and uh.....happened to learn about Nilfgaards reign of terror from Triss." He looks at you with a puzzled raise of his grey brow, you give him the tiniest of smiles, "Long story." You shrug, "Even longer one if you really wanna know how I got here." You add with a familiar tinge of humor lacing your words that he's always loved.

His smile is small, but you catch it all the same as he finds your eyes once again, "Guess we both have a lot to catch up on. Although you might laugh when I tell you this," You raise an interested brow as he continues, "Calanthe wasn't very fond of my arrival in the slightest, so she had me set behind bars....and well," His eyes falling downcast, "I couldn't do anything to stop Cintra's destruction...."

"Sounds about right." You remark with a humored snort as you attempt to lighten up the mood once again, he lightly chuckles while you let a couple more friendly laughs slip out before falling into an awkward silence.

He looks to the ground as you shift your eyes to the trees before whispering, "Okay fuck I can't do this." He immediately snaps his attention over to you looking a tad bit afraid, shaking your head you shrug, "I'm skipping the heartfelt shit because Geralt, I wanted to shatter your kneecaps on that mountain...but, stay with me here...leaving you alone for a couple shitty weeks seems like enough of a fuck you." A small grin tugs at the corners of his lips as you break out into a smirk before your face falls once more, "But I am...Geralt I'm sorry for just leaving you there and I just...."

You let out a breath, yours eyes darting around his face as you try and figure out what he's feeling, he takes a cautious step forward, "You had every right to hate me, and even now. I can live with that and I can live without you by my side if that is what you choose." He says, not a shadow of falseness in his gravely voice.

You shake your head, blinking tears away that you didn't even realize started to form, "I could never hate you. Not now, not ever." A small grin tugs at the corners of his lips at your heartfelt words while you grace him with an affectionate smile, "I love you too much, you fucking idiot."

He takes another step closer, "I don't deserve you." Is all he's able to say as he gently opens his palm for you to take.

Slowly reaching out, you take his calloused hand, placing it upon the side of your cheek as you blissfully lean into his familiar touch with a warm smile adorning your features, "You definitely don't deserve me." He wraps his other arm around you, a genuine laugh reverberating from his strong chest as he presses himself against you.

Your foreheads pressed comfortably against one another now, "I've missed you so much." He whispers gently into the breeze.

You move your arms to hug him even closer, "I've missed you more then the moon and all the stars combined," You kiss the tip of his nose, "Though I won't hesitate to break both your legs and leave you a crippled man if you ever do that shit again." He chuckles at your passive aggressive yet loving threat, before pulling away to stare adoringly into your eyes.

His big golden irises shine like shimmering coins as he studies every inch of your face, his own one hides nothing as he shows pure love and admiration for you through his beaming grin, "I love you Y/N. Please never doubt that." He speaks softly as he presses his head flush with yours for the second time.

You chuckle, "Then never doubt this." He doesn't have time to reply as you hastily pull him in for a heated embrace, his lips are gentle and warm as you taste him. He's the same as you'd remembered. Full of fiery passion and feather light care all at the same time as his lips move with yours, hands trailing your sides as you feel him up just the same. Making sure to fully memorize each and every curve of one another that you'd both desperately missed from your time apart.

You slowly pull away, he follows your lips for a second before turning his head to find your scarlet irises, "As much as I'm wholeheartedly enjoying this, and much anticipating how you're going to make everything up to me later. I think we should get-a-riding before I decide to eat Roach."

He shakes his snowy mane, chuckling at your innate ability to always make him laugh, "You wouldn't dare." He jests, mock serious.

Gently squeezing his muscular bicep you eye him real close, your noses just about touching, "I would. And I bet she tastes, delicious." You add with a dramatic shift in your voice for humored emphasis of course. You'd never really eat Roach, well unless you happened to be desperate.

He suddenly hugs you even closer, his lips brushing against yours, sending shivers down your spine, "I know what could satisfy your hunger, my love." He whispers darkly, shifting the mood to your surprised enjoyment.

You lightly kiss his bottom lip, "Oh please, you may be a Witcher but there's no way you could handle me when I'm starved."

You can feel the electricity in the air, his scent and aurora shifting to that of lust, "I wouldn't mind your beautiful face as the last thing I see before I fall into darkness, never to wake again." Muses your Witcher with a small grin, "Sounds rather pleasant."

He bites his lip as you study his alluringly handsome face, "Too bad." You smirk as he watches your lips, "I'd miss your annoyingly attractive face and that ever enticing body of yours way too much to discard you like a forgetful rotten apple tossed to the side of the road."

In reply Geralt presses his plush inviting lips to yours, sending a pleasurable warmth beginning to blossom from deep within your chest, you can't help but to tug him even closer now. He's missed you a thousand times more then you'd first realized, and he is not disappointing with making a fraction of it up to you.

Roach snorts impatiently in the background causing you to laugh and Geralt to sneakily stick his tongue in your opened mouth.

You enjoy the surprisingly delightful sensation before a sudden thought sparks into your mind, pulling away from his enticing lips do you look up at his pouting face, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head at him.

"Where's Jaskier?"

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[thevoilinauttheory]

Fire

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 2: Aberrant ]

The Five Part “In the Dreams of Ashley” series is done! Go read the others here! {Prelude} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Wind} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Fire} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Water} {In the Dreams of Ashley: The Earth}

[ HEAVY CONTENT WARNINGS - THIS PIECE IS TO EXPLORE ONE OF MY DEEPEST FEARS CONTAINING: mentions of death/blood, regrets surrounding said death, nightmares, detailed suffocation, detailed description of burning to death, suicidal ideation ]

[ also decided to do a music theme this month and all of these will have musical accompaniment lol ]

To dream that you or someone is being burned alive suggests that you are being consumed by your own ambition. To dream that you are being burned by fire indicates that your temper is getting out of control. Some issue or situation is burning up inside you. If you are setting a fire to something or even to yourself, then it indicates that you are undergoing some great distress. You are at the brink of desperation and want to destroy something or some aspect of yourself.

==

“So how did you even get here?” Ashley shoved a dumpling into his mouth, having yanked it from the pot as soon as he realized it was ready. Ruta had set up a fire, a large heavy pot on top of it, filled to the brim with broth and vegetables. He didn’t question where she got it, or even how she carried it - though common sense dictated that she borrowed the pot from the fishermen in Isari, as well as bought the food; they *were* set up right outside it, of course.

“Hm?” Ruta had her mouthful already, slurping up what noodles were left in her mouth. It took her a good minute to finish chewing so she could talk; and in that time, Ashley had already taken to swishing thin slices of fish around until they were cooked enough to eat.

“Y’know, get here. Back in the cells, you said you were from Kugane… but, uh… no offense, but.” “Because I’m Xaelic?” “...Yeah, sorry. That’s rude of me to point out.” Ruta only laughed. “Yeah… I left that part of me in the Steppes. I was capable, but… I thought, as a kid, if they’re gonna leave me tied up to a tree, I might as well go my own way. What’s to say that it’s not going to happen again?” “Tied to a tree? Oof, that’s rough.” “Made it all the way to Kugane and ran into some nice folks who thought ‘who in the hells let this child run around on her own!’.” She laughed. “They adopted me. Real nice people.” “They still with you?” ”Hope so, it’s been a few years.”

He stared at the flames, leaning back on his hands after he filled himself up on food - thinking about her words, how everyone he knew would have moved on with their lives without him. “Where’re Colette ‘n’Hunter? They’ve been gone a while.” “I think they went ahead to scout for a boat. We gotta leave in the dead of night, if we want a chance at getting past those pirates. You know how to swim?” “Uuhh… I’m gonna say “I’ll figure it out”.” He laughed. “Grew up in a desert, don’t really have time to learn to swim.” “You might have to! If we have to jump off the boat and swim our way there. I’m sure Hunter wouldn’t mind dragging you with him - guy loves to swim.” “Does he?” “I mean… he’s told me as much, at least.” “Hm.” That grin on her face only told him how much she was judging him. “What! Leave me alone! Stop staring like that, gods, it’s weird.”

==

“Don’t y’think you’ve been “retired” long enough?” Ashley leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs up on the table in front of him; he stuck the tiniest crumb of paper under his tongue, then closed his eyes. “Nope.” “Kid, you have to *move on*. Shite like this? This happens all the time - you’ve been sheltered way too long--” “Who died and made you th’boss of my life, huh? If I’ve been sheltered, then y’leave me to be the little bitch I am until I’m *ready* to “move on”. You haven’t experienced what I have. I haven’t experienced what you have.” “How’re you going to make any money to live with an attitude like that.” “Off my savings? My life ain’t your business - you can either sit here and enjoy a drink with me, or you can piss off. I don’t care either way, I ain’t working yet.”

==

He didn’t really need the road down memory lane - but it helped ease the pain, just for a little bit. His boots crunched over the shells and rocks that made up the shores of the Ruby Sea, staring at the water as he strolled. He had always questioned why they had referred to it as “ruby”, there was nothing as brilliant or red about it… back then, of course. He had taken its beauty for granted. The crimson kelp that made up the depths against the sparkling reflections from the sun, everything was so… peaceful. To a degree. He couldn’t account for the Garlean control over the area, and had to be on his toes because of it, but it was nice.

He wished his friends were around to witness it - it was dark when they were able to see it, if one could even call it “seeing”, as much as it was a black pit of unknown they were diving into.

He made a stop in Crick - he wasn’t necessarily welcome, but he wasn’t unwelcome either. They regarded him with impassiveness there, letting him relax as he wished or needed to - which happened to be in front of a fire with a pot attached to it, boiling water. How much longer could he stand to be here? The memories were starting to hurt now, they ached, and suddenly he felt ill to his stomach. That was when he decided it was best to leave, standing up to turn back the way he came - watching the ocean once more with the unevenness of the shore beneath his feet yet again.

There was a fisher’s boat floating in the middle, a small Auri woman casting out a line with a basket of fish next to her. Living a carefree, or… mostly carefree life. Living life as she could, and it seemed she was doing well enough. She turned her head and made accidental eye-contact with him-- those eyes, that face.

“Ruta?” He questioned softly, then smiled brightly and waved. “Ruta! You’re safe! Gods be!” As he watched the woman wave back, his vision blackened - flashes of the body of his fallen friend bleeding out on top of her girlfriend’s, looking behind him as he ran.

The next he knew were flames - and only flames. His whole body was searing, the heat too much for his skin. He tried to pull his foot from the ground, to try and run for the ocean, but he could not move. He stayed in place and it only seemed like the relief of water got further and further away the more he longed for it. It started with his legs, that’s where his eyes turned to next. One foot stood solid in the slowly creeping fount of lava, threatening to take the next one over. What happened? How did he get here? There was no way he would have done this of his own volition, was there? But no, he did - he stepped right into it, a wonder, no, a *knowing* of what the consequence would bring. A solace in knowing that this would be the price he paid for his inadequacies.

Even as he tried to change his mind - tried to scream for help that could not hear him, the fire climbed only higher. All he could do was cry out in pain as he watched his clothes set ablaze, and his skin begin to blacken and peel. The pain of it all, the searing pain of his skin melting from his bones wasn’t even the worst of it; it was the agony of seeing it happen slowly - the scent of the hairs and flesh charring; the popping, bubbling, cracking noises that followed until he was swallowed whole by it. Each scream, each breath, he was forced to swallow the flames until they choked him - then each cough cooked his lungs; his vision was nothing but reds and oranges until it had gone black, and what was left of him could only fall to try and drag itself to an escape out of pure need for survival. Only to be overtaken by the slow and searing pain of pure fire covering the entirety of his body - the last he heard was not the crackling of his bones like tinder, but the paddles of a boat hitting the still water as it passed right by him.

==

His awakening was a slow one this time, feeling the tears that had dried against his cheek. He woke up next to the flames of the dying fire, left alone by the people of the town around him. He was disoriented, confused. When it finally settled that it was a nightmare, he let out a heavy and relieved sigh.

Not quite the same as the last, but no less painful and terrifying.

[ghost-at-the-masquerade]

The Little Things

Rating: PG, for talk of preparing an animal carcass

Count: 1856

Summary: Link has dinner with a stranger out on the road

A/N: Yes, I’m going to make Link use they/them pronouns, no I don’t take criticism on this, don’t @ me

----------------

The smell of blood still wafted toward the camp, from where they had let the deer drain. They started at the collarbone, slicing all the way down to the groin, then up the inside of each of the legs. Someone could always use more leather, so they wanted to keep the hide well intact.

Sitting across from Link on a tree downed long ago, Stemm - a traveling chef, by his own description - started to peel carrots and potatoes. The skins he let fall among the grass, the clean vegetables he dropped into a large stockpot to wait. It was much too soon, but he needed something to do.

When Link went to wipe the sweat from their forehead with the back of their arm, they left a little smear of blood that caught a lock of hair and matted it to their eyebrow. The sight of it had Stemm’s face twisting into the most polite agony he could manage.

The time came to split open its belly and he excused himself to stoke and adjust the fires - meat and organs did better in different temperatures at different times, he said.

Link twisted around to grab another, larger pot to drop the more palatable organs in, and the rest were given back to the earth, that Farore may put them to better use.

Their boots were soiled as they worked to separate the carcass into manageable cuts, the better part of an hour drifting by them as they were engrossed in the work. Every now and again their gaze flicked over to Stemm, tutting around the camp proper. Always seeming to produce more cookware and utensils and little bottles of spices from his pack. He had a rather fine set of glass bottles he kept water in, too - as well as some spirit that stank all to hell. Highly impractical for travel compared to a waterskin, but lovely nonetheless. A pair of the ones filled with water were sitting in a half-rotted bucket with a pilfered ice rod.

They piled the meat onto a spare sheet of leather they had so they could haul it all the few feet to the fire, hefting it over the log with a grunt.

Stemm spared them a smile for all of their work. “Thank you, yes, it’ll be fine there.”

He took the opportunity to go on while they paused to take a breath, “It makes me feel like such a fraud, not doing all my own prep, but butchering is just… such ugly work.”

Link couldn’t help but cock the bloody eyebrow at him. The lock of hair came loose with the movement.

“Don’t look at me like that - it’s not that I had some… pampered upbringing, my parents did their own hunting when I was young. We just moved to a bigger town before it was my time to learn. And if someone has already prepared the meat for you, well…”

They wondered, at times, if people in their previous life had spilled their guts to them like this. Their silence left a lot of room for it.

“I suppose I was so excited to travel and to do it all myself that I didn’t think about what ‘doing it all myself’ would entail.”

Link’s expression softened some. They could sympathize with being in over one’s head.

“… What are you waiting around for? I can handle this part, you wash up.” He shooed them with one hand, pulling the meat toward himself with the other.

They huffed through their nose at his tone, but they didn’t need to be told twice.

-

Twilight’s somber blanket settled over the grass, made the soft sands twinkle as Link stepped into the shallow waters. Going in almost up to their knees, they found a rock to settle on, dipping their arms into the cool river flow and scrubbing the deer’s blood free from their arms and boots. Blood dried on skin is rather like the first layer of paint on raw wood, thin and clinging seamlessly.

Pulling back, droplets on their skin became flecks of gold in the dying light. They reached into a pouch at their hip for a bar of soap and comb. The bar was only about the length of their palm and a third of the width, off-white in color - not unlike honey diluted in milk. They rubbed a conservative lather into their palm; it would be some time before they returned to Hateno for more, but they wanted the copper smell off their hands. They only just remembered the smear on their face before rinsing off.

The comb was simple, a chunk of birch wood carved and left unfinished, but with much thicker teeth than their last one. Hair tie held between their lips, they dipped the comb into the river, closed their eyes and began to run it through their hair. Their ears twitched with every rustle of the trees behind them.

Clean and calmed, they took a deep breath and rose to return to camp.

-

Stemm greeted them heartily, in much higher spirits now that he was in his element. He already had several pounds of meat salted and packed into leather satchels, while another had been cubed for their supper.

Link took their seat at an angle to him, not quite next to him. Stemm was proving to be quite the multi-tasker around the cook pot, moving seamlessly between preserving the meat and prodding the chunk of fat he had rendering out in the bottom of the pot. It had been strung up by a chain, held aloft by three metal rods - an incredibly handy contraption, Link would have to see about finding one.

At each step, Stemm explained how staggering each ingredient’s addition would change their texture and flavor. Link sipped their chilled water and decided to keep their disagreements about what the texture should be to themself; they could deal with mushy onions in their stew for one night.

With everything coming together, he whipped out a smaller wooden spoon, took a taste and pursed his lips, looking up to the sky. “I wish I had a little sweetness to take that edge off, but I’ve just run out…”

Link’s ear twitched with a thought, and they dipped their fingers into another one of their hip pouches. From it they drew a flower, not unlike the Silent Princess, but half the size and without its luminescent qualities. They held it up as a suggestion, “Maybe this?”

“That?” Stemm leaned close to scrutinize the flower, “No, I’m afraid those are quite bitter.”

They shook their head and insisted, “Cousin of the star flower. Breeding out the glow takes out the bitterness.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Usually, yes, but they’ve been moving back that way for a while. Have you been under a rock?”

Rather than argue the point further, they popped the flower in their mouth - only to immediately stick out their tongue and let the mushed petals fall off.

Stemm laughed victoriously. “I told you!”

With their eyes unfocused on the grass, something deep within them wavered, but only momentarily. It was too silly a thing to unsettle them. Even if it was one of the few things they thought they remembered.

“The one thing I was prepared for was finding tasty plants!” He glanced again toward the dying light while digging something out of his bag.

“Don’t know how much you can do by firelight, but here-” He held out a small, leather-bound notebook, “You can copy this.”

It was soft in their hands, telling of its relative youth. The cover crackled quietly as they opened it. The pages detailed a number of edible wild plants native to central Hyrule and Necluda, including flavor profiles and notable lookalikes.

Link set it on their knee so they could sign, “Thank you, but, I don’t have anything to copy to.”

For a moment he seemed surprised. Then he shrugged, a relaxed smile crossing his face. “Keep that one, then. I can make another.”

Their mouth worked and they struggled to make the sign feel sincere enough, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It won’t do me much good when I head out to Akkala, anyway.”

With that reassurance they relaxed some, settling in to skim the notes while he finished.

The sun ducked away behind the far trees and its last light vanished, turning the camp into a bright bubble in a dark ocean.

Turned out Stemm was right about it needing a bit of sweet, but it was far from inedible. Link was more than glad to take a second helping. Simple, but warm and filling. He was definitely still wrong about onions, but the potato was good.

Stemm had no stories to tell and his sign wasn’t strong enough to keep up with Link’s, so the night air was left to the crickets, crackling of fire and the tittering of breeze through the grass and leaves. In time, they agreed to part in sleep.

Link settled down into the embrace of a nearby elm. Stemm stayed closer to the fire, with his sizable pack to prop him up. Firelight faded, gave way to the silver grace of the moon, orange glowing embers not unlike the shrines waiting for them in the distance.

——

Link woke at first light. Hummed deep in their throat and stretched, scratched their shoulder against the bark before even bothering to open their eyes. They could already feel the knot that had formed in their hair.

Sitting up, they saw Stemm still asleep, his mouth dangerously open to the sky. They shook their head, starting to fix their hair when they noticed a small line of leaves laid parallel on their thigh - korok mischief. A little smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. They carefully stacked the leaves and tucked them away in a pocket.

It was time to go - their deal was done and a number of important tasks awaited them. Link stood and took a final stretch. But still, they looked over to their companion. He had done them an extra kindness.

Stemm’s rig was still set up - perhaps they could make use of it. Link knelt with a bit of bounce, considering the remnants of the fire.

They reached into the depths of a pouch and grasped the handle of a short sword - though not short enough to keep them from having to bend over at a funny angle to get it out, falling onto their hip. Exposed to the open air, the blade flared to life with eerily silent fire. A bit of tinder, another log and the tip of the blade was all that was needed. A little extra kindness, then they would go.

Three eggs scrambled into fine curds, peppered with fresh herbs and salt flakes, gently folded over on itself with a wooden spoon. A hopefully respectable omelet they set nearby under a korok leaf.

Link put their hands on their hips and regarded a man they would likely not see again, one more time. The Dueling Peaks loomed. The sun crept higher. And strangers parted.

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 1

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 1: Just Walk Away From It

Sometimes we try to change the past

The fresh air of the Brisban Wildlands greeted Ceara as she exited the waypoint beam in the sylvari village at Zinder’s Slope. The warm environment was welcoming compared to the frigid cold she had just experienced at the Durmond Priory. The pleasant smells of the village greeted her nose, which she breathed deep. The sounds of the forest filled her ears, a stark contrast to the deathly silence of the halls of the priory. She looked over the surroundings. Citizens of the village going about their daily lives, paying no mind to her. Unhooking the clasp of her cloak, she started walking up the gentle incline of the hillside towards Amaranda’s home.

“Home…” she thought to herself as she looked at the small sylvari structure at the top of the hill. She thought back to the years spent travelling around in her life, never settling in one place for very long. Until dark times took control of her. She paused her ascent, taking a moment to look out over the river that ran nearby. Her thoughts drifted to those months living in the damp cave under the Durmond Priory.

“I never thought I would ever have a home.” She said quietly to herself as she looked down at the dirt path. She kicked at a small stone that lay in front of her.

“Come home, my child.” the voice of the Pale Tree drifted through her mind.

“Mother…” she whispered.

“It’s time for you to come home.” The voice of the Aspect thundered through her memory. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing at the thought.

“No…” she thought to herself, forcing the image of her ghostly doppelganger from her mind. She sighed and continued up the path.

“There, there. Now, you’ll grow stronger.” Amaranda spoke softly to one of the plants outside of her home.  Tending to their needs, nurturing them gently when she noticed Ceara coming up the path.

“The prodigal daughter as returned.” she spoke softly to herself as she smiled lightly. She went inside and started gathering together a bowl of fruits and getting a container of juice ready. She placed them on a low table as Ceara entered the home. The pleasant smell of lavender greeted Ceara’s nose as she stepped through the threshold.

“Welcome home. Any news from the Priory?” Amaranda asked.

“Nothing new.” Ceara replied removing her cloak and hanging it on a nearby hook. She sat on a small stool and removed her boots, stretching out her legs before kneeling at the table. “They said that…since the demise of Mordremoth, activity in the blade had diminished but they still keep it heavily warded.” She plucked a strawberry from the bowl. Amaranda poured a leafy cup full of juice and set it front of Ceara before sitting across from her sister.  

“Do you think…Do you think it gone?” Amaranda asked grabbing an orange from the bowl and slicing it open.

“I don’t think so. I could still feel it while I was there. It was trying to break free, but it’s severely weakened. The asura cutting it off from any energy source really did damage to it.”

“Well, I hope it stays that way. I would hate to think what would happen if it got out again.” Amaranda started cutting the orange into slices.

Ceara stared out of the front door, watching a pair of dragonflies dance around a small bush just outside. She slowly chewed on the strawberry as she thought about Amaranda’s book in the Priory. Amaranda looked up at her sister, realizing she was lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” Amaranda finally asked after a few moments. Ceara turned back to her, staring at her somewhat blankly.

“Well?” Amaranda asked, taking a bite of one of the orange slices.

“Tell me about Malyck.” Ceara finally said taking a drink from her cup.

“Malyck? Why?”

“I’m just curious, is all. What was he like?”

Amaranda sighed as she remembered the strange sylvari Trahearne had brought to her. A sylvari not of the Pale Tree, but another tree. A sylvari with no connection to the Dream nor Nightmare.

“He was an enigma, to say the least. Not a sylvari like us. Different. No connection to the Dream. His pod was found just up the river actually. A pod from another tree possi-“ Amaranda paused as she looked at her sister, who was smiling impishly.

“What are…” Amaranda paused a moment. “No!” she snapped sternly when she realized what Ceara was thinking.

“What?”

“No!”

“Why not!?”

“I am not going to help you look for him or some other tree!”

“But why not!?’

“I’ve had enough adventure recently to last a lifetime!”

“But it will be fun!”

“Remind me to discuss your definition of ‘fun’ sometime, Ceara.”

“Oh, come on. Do you just want to stay here for the rest of your life? Live a little!”

“I am living. And I don’t consider travelling right into the front yard of our creator ‘fun’. You’ve heard about the creatures roaming around in the jungle. Some of them were sylvari at one time.”

“But Mordremoth is dead. There’s nothing that we couldn’t handle. Look what we did in Lion’s Arch.”

“Yes, and it could have killed us. No thank you.”

“Feh!” Ceara spat.

“How about finding someone to settle down with. To spend your time peacefully enjoying a quiet life with someone else?’

“Well there is-“

“Someone not named Lord Faren.” Amaranda spoke bluntly.

Ceara looked at her sister somewhat perturbed. “He’s a fine man!” she rebuttled.

Amaranda looked at her, a look of disbelief on her face before snorting a small laugh.

“Really?” Ceara shot back at her. Amaranda shook her head.

“Dear sister…you have much to learn.” She said with a smile on her face.

“’You have much to learn.’” Ceara repeated, snidely mocking her sister. Amaranda laughed as she finished her orange.

“I’m leaving in the morning to travel into the jungle.” Ceara said abruptly

Amaranda looked up at her. “You’re seriously going to look for this other tree? It’s not even known if it exists. And even worse, if it does exist, we don’t know if Mordremoth attacked it as he attacked mother. It may be full of his creatures now.”

“Well, that’s what I’m going to find out.”

Amaranda sighed, as she took a sip of her juice, shaking her head lightly. “I know I can’t stop you. But…just…be careful. Make sure your waypoint device is working.”

“Aren’t I always?” Ceara asked with a smile. Amaranda slowly shook her head as she gently set her cup on the table.

 The sun was rose slowly in the morning sky as Ceara arrived at the waypoint furthest west for which she had coordinates. She exited the beam near an area in the far southwest part of the wildlands dubbed “Tangle Root”. Most likely due to the fact that the area is believed to be where Mordremoth had managed to break through and spread his influence throughout Tyria. The dry air gave a hint of where she was heading. A slight shudder went down her spine as she saw the remains of Mordremoth’s large vines protruding from the limestone ridges that surrounded the area.

“You were my champion.” The jungle dragon’s voice rumbled through her mind. Closing her eyes, she focused the memory away. She breathed deep before slowly opening them. It would still take her a day to get through the chasm filled borderlands between the wildlands and the desert wastes of Maguuma. She had decided to stop by the small mining town of Prosperity to check to see if any of the things she left behind were still there.

“This would have been so much easier with my old transporter.” She thought to herself. She had left it behind when she moved her operations from the cave in Lornar’s Pass to the Breachmaker. “I guess the Priory has it now.” She wondered. “Or that little asuran girl with the crooked walk.”  Her brow furrowed at the thought.

The Seraph outpost near the edge of the canyon that would lead her to the Dry Top region of the wastes was quiet. Two guards manned the perimeter. Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she had passed through this area as she approached.

“Im just passing through to the desert regions. I’m going to study the plants that live there! I’ve heard they are so much different than anything I’ve seen here!” she happily lied to the Seraph that were stationed at the outpost at the time, covering up her true reason for heading into the desert. To this day she still wasn’t sure if that was a lie she made up as her own or if it was brought forth by the Aspect that was residing in her mind in those dark days. The outpost seemed lightly manned. Just a few troops scattered about going about their mundane tasks.

“Hopefully, this works.” She thought to herself as she opened a small panel on one of her gauntlets and pressed a tiny, illuminated button. She was enveloped in a light bending field that caused her to turn seemingly invisible. She quickened her pace as she knew the field would not last long.

The hours passed by as she made her way through the twisting canyon. She rarely saw a Seraph patrol, and when she did, she was able to easily hide and get passed them. A few travellers were also passing through the canyon as well.  

“This was a bandit route in the past. I guess the rise of Mordremoth changed things.” She thought to herself. Midday had come and gone, and the walls of the canyon had started to change. She recognized the vines that were weaving throughout the limestone rock. She approached one slowly, cautiously reaching out and placing her hand upon it. The outer skin dried and fragile, broke and splintered at her touch. She slowly closed her fingers, digging them into the dried vine, pieces of it splintering in her grip as her hand closed into a fist. A feeling of anger was forming in the pit of her stomach, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“This thing. This took control of me. This is what drove me to madness…” Her angered scream echoed through the canyon as she smashed both of her fists down, shattering the section of vine, sending shards in all directions. She choked back the tears as she cleared her thoughts. She stood in silence for a moment, her breathing heavy as she calmed herself.

“I’m sure someone heard me.” She thought as she looked into the distance, down the path her journey was taking her.

The hours rolled on. The sun was low in the sky as Ceara neared the western end of the canyon. Soon the desert expanse of Dry Top would stretch out in front of her as the path curved slightly northward. As the mouth of the canyon gave way to the arid desert, she paused at the scene that lay before her.

“The Zephyrites?” she thought to herself as she gazed upon the wreckage of the Zephyrite airship. Its structure strewn across the desert, twisted and broken like a pile of twigs she would find in Caledon Forest. Off in the far distance, she could make out the small buildings of the town of Properity. Dimly lit windows dotted the dark face of the far cliffs. She took a drink of water from her canteen before making her way down the pathway along the cliff face.

“What happened here?” She thought to herself as she surveyed the wreckage during her decent. As the pathway emptied out at the bottom of the cliff, she felt uneasy as parts of the airship slowly creaked and groaned in the desert breeze. Not even the smallest of animals were to be seen throughout the crash site.

“Did… was this Mordremoth’s doing?” she pondered quietly to herself. She paused a moment. “If it was…then…” Her heart sank. She closed her eyes a moment before taking a deep breath. “I…I can’t think about this now.” She continued moving through the wreckage. She took note of possible remains of footprints in the sand around large pieces of the destroyed structure.

“Someone survived, I guess. Or bandits. Looks like some asura as well. Also, I haven’t seen any of their special crystals.” She glanced at the sun, which was dipping below the far cliffs.

“The wind is picking up. Maybe a sandstorm blowing in.” She thought. She pulled her scarf up, covering the lower half of her face and placed her goggles over her eyes. Lastly, she pulled the hood of her cloak up.

“I may not make it to the town in time.” She thought as she quickly scanned the wreckage for anything to make a temporary shelter. Grabbing some broken beams and some battered panels, she managed to fashion a small shelter against an alcove in a pile of nearby boulders. She quickly grabbed more materials to help reinforce it against the blowing wind.

“I guess I’m staying the night here. Not what I had planned at all.” She said to herself as she closed the makeshift door, securing it behind her as the wind buffeted the small building.

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The mid-morning sun shone brightly over Properity, a small mining town that also acts as a waystation for travelers passing through the Maguuma Wastes. The towns inhabitants were going about their daily routines. Some heading towards the mine to work, others taking care of business around the town. A particular duo was busily leaning against the town well when they noticed a familiar sylvari approaching. They watched as she crossed one of the bridges over the river of quicksand that helped to protect the town from danger.

“Is that…is that who I think it is?” the asura spoke to his charr compatriot.

“I…I think so. Never thought we would see her again.” The charr replied.

“I hope she doesn’t want to see her place. Think she’s gonna be a tad upset when she sees what that crew did to it.” The asura said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Ceara paused while crossing the bridge into Prosperity. She could see remains of Mordremoth’s giant thorned vines sticking out of the cliff walls surrounding the northern part of the town.  

“It’s amazing they survived him.” She thought to herself. She continued across the bridge, immediately noticing a waypoint beacon set up nearby.

“Well that’s very convenient.” She smiled to herself as she pulled out her waypoint device and calibrated it. She then turned and started walking to the building where she lived for a time. She paused when she saw the duo at the well gawking at her.

“Those two…still standing in the same place the last time I was here…” she said, squinting at them. “They must have grown roots by now.” She shook her head and approached the room she called home for a while. She paused several feet away, looking at the door that had been blown off its hinges.

“Someone set off the trap…” she thought to herself. Cautiously stepping inside, the pit of her stomach sank. The room was completely empty. All her things were gone.  

“Well, I should have guess something like this would have happened.” she said to herself. Sighing, she stepped through the hole in the far wall into the cavern beyond. She illuminated a small light from her satchel and cautiously descended the wooden stairway into the cave. A lot of things were still there. Random parts of asura tech, broken odds and ends that she had no use for. Everything that was of any value to her in those days was gone.

“Thorns!” she spat. She climbed back up the makeshift stairs and exited out of the room. Spying the duo at the well, she started marching over to them.

“Uh-oh.” The charr grunted.

“Um…turn around. Act like you didn’t see her.” The asura sputtered. The pair turned and started walking away.

“OH my! You actually don’t have roots!” Ceara shouted. “Now, I have a question and I think you two know the answer!”

The pair started quickening their pace, but Ceara caught up to them, grabbing the asura by the collar.

“Don’t hurt me! It wasn’t us!” he screamed. The charr turned to find the barrel of Ceara’s pistol in his face.

“Whoa! Whoa! We didn’t do anything!” the charr stammered.

“What happened to my things!?” Ceara barked.

“Look! It wasn’t us. It was some other group! An asuran girl. With some humans. And a charr and a norn! They destroyed the door to your place and the asuran girl had a krewe come in and move everything out.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“Why should we!? They were heavily armored and carrying around big weapons!”

“Heavy armored…” Ceara thought for a moment. “You said a norn and charr? And some humans?”

“Yes.”

“Was the charr a female? With funny looking eyes? And the asuran girl? Did she have a crooked walk?”

“Um…yeah”

“And the humans… two women, one with dark hair and wearing dark armor, and the other looking like a princess?”

“Yeah. They came in here asking a bunch of questions about you and what you were doing here.” Ceara let the asura go and holstered her pistol.

“What I was…” Ceara thought back to those dark days.” “Oh no…oh no!” she exclaimed; her eyes wide. She bolted back to her room. Darting through the cave, she quickly found the exit that led into a canyon that would take her to a place she had not seen in a very long time.

Ceara journeyed through the canyons of Dry Top as fast as she could hoping to find the cavern where she first found and studied leylines. She didn’t know what lay waiting for her there, only that she had to stop anyone from using that machine.

“That infernal device.” Her mind drifted back to that fateful day.

“At long last I’m going to see it. I’m going to see the Eternal Alchemy itself.” She remembered saying as Omadd was securing her in the isolation chamber.

“I’m so sorry…” she thought.

“Come, young one. Let me show you the truth.” She heard the deep bellow of the jungle dragons voice through her memory.

“If I had only known.” She thought. “If I was only better prepared.” She stopped to rest a moment as the midday sun beat down on her. She opened her canteen and started taking a drink when she heard footsteps in the distance. Hooved footsteps from the sound of them. She turned and could make out centaurs approaching from the direction she was travelling.

“That’s right. I remember there being a centaur camp along this route.” She placed her canteen back in its satchel and started walking towards the approaching group. As she got closer, she counted three of them. She remembered that they were seemingly friendly back during those days, but she undid the clasp on her holster as a cautionary measure.

“Look. Another sylvari.” One of them spoke.

“Another?” Ceara asked puzzled.

“Yes. Tell me, traveler. Do you need any assistance in getting through the canyon?” Another asked Ceara.

“Uh…if you are offering it, then yes. I need to get to the Uplands as fast as possible.”

The trio looked at each other, then back to her, seemingly judging her. Ceara felt uneasy.

“We’ll take you as far as the pass that leads to the desert, but no farther.”

“That’s good enough.” She replied. She climbed onto the back of one of the centaurs. After securing her things, they galloped onward towards the west.

“Well…Ventari would have just made me walk…” she said snidely under her breath. “At this rate we’ll be in the Uplands in no time.” she thought.

Time passed as the trio raced through the canyons. Ceara saw other centaurs along the route, patrolling or hunting. She couldn’t tell, nor did she really care. Her thoughts were only on one thing at the moment.

“If it is still there…if it still exists…” she hesitated at the thought of what that machine did to her and it possibly could do if another entered it. Soon the canyons started fading away, and the desert once again started looming out before her. The centaurs slowed their gait, coming to a full stop.

“This is as far as we can take you, sylvari. Your journey from here is on foot.” One spoke as she climbed off his back.

“Thank you.” She said looking up at him.

“Safe journeys.” He said to her before they turned and headed back into the canyon.

“Well, this looks somewhat familiar.” She commented as she looked out at the rolling dunes of the desert. “Time to get moving.” She thought back to the days of when she lived here before. She remembered making the trek through the desert many times and let her instincts take over, remembering landmarks along the way. She knew she was on the right path when she came across the remains of one of her steam minotaurs partially buried in the sand near a cliff wall, it’s steel carcass blasted clean by years of blowing sand.

“I remember you…” she said, kneeling down, brushing the sand away from its lifeless face. “Thanks to you, and the others, I was able to haul all my equipment into that cavern.” She stood and moved on. Cautiously making her way down the incline, approaching the cavern entrance, she found remains of asuran golems and some security turrets. They had been damaged beyond repair and left where they lay. She picked up a crystal from one of the golems.

“Inquest…” she spoke, looking at her reflection on the surface. “They must have been here studying the ley line…and someone…or something didn’t like it.” She dropped the crystal into the sand and took pause. A giant steel door of asuran design had been constructed at the mouth of the cavern, and it too had been destroyed. She cautiously stepped through into the cave, her heart racing as she was met by the cool air of the cavern. The smell of ozone filled the air, getting stronger as she descended into the cave. Energy she had not felt in a long time washed over her as the path emptied into the main room of the cavern. Its walls illuminated brightly by the river of energy that coursed through it. Ceara gasped as she stood in silence, staring at the beam of leyline energy that flowed from the far end of the cavern to the other, piercing the stone wall and flowing beyond. Her thoughts returned to that day so long ago when she first discovered it.

“Look at that. It’s beautiful.” She thought. “and it still is.” Her thoughts snapped back to the present. She looked around the immediate area, noticing more asuran tech set up in various locations. She slowly walked over to a small terminal that had been set up near the flow of energy.

“The inquest were studying it.” She spoke softly as she ran her hand down the damaged control console. “If they were here…then…” She slowly turned, her eyes gazing up at an opening at the end of the cavern. She felt anxious, as if an icy hand were slowly closing over her heart. Slowly she made her way up the small ridge, each footfall more carefully placed than the last. The ridge was lined with damaged inquest equipment as well, but one console next to the cave opening stood out in particular. It wasn’t of Inquest design. It hummed softly, sounding a periodic beep as lights flashed in time on its control surface. Her breathing labored as she neared it. She paused before reaching the threshold as she thought about what lay beyond in the cavern. Turning her gaze through the opening, she gasped, her eyes widened as she laid her eyes upon what she knew lay in the cave below: Omadd’s isolation chamber. The very machine that allowed her to view the Eternal Alchemy, that showed her secrets she wanted to know, and that allowed the jungle dragon to consume her.

“No…” she shook her head. “NO!” she screamed as she ran into the cave entrance, only to be repulsed by an invisible shield. She screamed again as she slammed herself into the field, trying to crash though it, but to no avail. The shield held fast. She turned to the console.

“No…no….it can’t be here…it has to be destroyed…” she gasped as she frantically threw switches and pressed buttons on the control panel. ‘THORNS!” she screamed, slamming her fists on the unit as nothing seemed to drop the shield. She turned and slammed her fists against the barrier.

“No…” she whimpered as she slowly dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“If I understood the stories correctly…” a voice echoed through the cavern. Ceara drew her pistol, spinning around pointing it randomly behind her.

“The last thing anyone, you of all people, should want to do is be near that machine.” The voice continued.

“Who’s there!? Show yourself! NOW!” Ceara hollered, her voice echoing through the cavern. She heard the sound of an ethereal chime that reminded her of a mesmers teleportation spell.

“I’m down here.” The voice called out. Ceara slowly peered over the edge of the ridge to see a dark colored sylvari woman in white dress looking up at her. She was holding a very odd-looking staff.

“Are you going to shoot me?” the woman asked almost playfully.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?” Ceara replied sternly.

“My name is Liathlas. And I’m not here to harm you, secondborn.” The woman shouldered her staff and started walking up the ridge. She stopped when Ceara fired a shot at her feet.

“Don’t come any closer.” Ceara barked at her. “I asked you why you are following me?” aiming her pistol at the womans face.

“I’m not following you. I am following a group of Nightmare Courtiers that are apparently travelling into the jungle. They seem to be looking for some great item of power. You just happened to catch my eye as you were travelling across the wastes and my curiosity got the better of me.”

Ceara narrowed her eyes. “Nightmare Courtiers? The last I heard Faolain had been killed in the battles against Mordremoth and the Nightmare Court fractured without her leadership.”

“Indeed. Faolian was slain, and in turn resurrected by Mordremoth as one of his champions.”

“You were my champion. My chosen one…” echoed through Ceara’s mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“Are you ok?” Liathlas asked, noticing Ceara’s momentary lack of focus.

“I’m fine.” Ceara snapped at her.

“Well, anyway, as for the Court, they have indeed fractured, their top ranks warring amongst themselves for control.” Liathlas continued. “This particular group seems to have developed a plan to take control of the Court using whatever it is they are looking for in the jungle.”

“And who is this group led by?”

“A sylvari named Nafiona. A practitioner of necromancy.”

“A sylvari necromancer?”

“Yes.”

“An item of great power…” Ceara muttered. She looked at Liathlas unbelievingly. “How do I know this is all true? Maybe you’re here to kill me?”

Liathlas returned her look in disbelief, shaking her head. “I’m not here to kill you. As a matter of fact, I think we should work together, at least until we get into the jungle. There are still plenty of mordrem wandering the wastes, and they won’t waste a second to try to kill anyone that crosses their path.”

Ceara closed her eyes, breathing in deep. She knew this sylvari was right, and it would benefit her to have someone watching her back during the journey.

“Ok…” she reluctantly agreed. Sighing deeply, she slowly lowered and holstered her pistol. Liathlas cautiously walked up to her, turning her gaze to look at the device that lay inside. She looked back at Ceara, who was looking at the machine, before cutting her own eyes at Liathlas.

“I think you need to forget about that machine.” Liathlas stated looking down at Omadd’s device.

“That will be impossible. That machine-“

“Just walk away from it, secondborn.” She turned back to Ceara. “The past is gone. It can’t be changed. Just walk away from it.” Liathlas turned and started walking down the ridge.

“Feh…” Ceara sneered at her, glancing one last time at the machine that was a blessing and ultimately a curse in her life before heading down the ridge herself.

The pair travelled back through the Uplands, eventually back to the canyon that brought Ceara here. The trek was long on foot.

“Tell me, secondborn, which name do you prefer to go by now? Your birth name? Or the name you have chosen for yourself?” Liathlas asked.

Ceara pondered for a few moments. “It doesn’t really matter. Some call me by my birth name. The rest of the world now knows me as Scarlet Briar.”

“I see. Well, how about we just call you…Ceara Briar?” Liathlas giggled.

Ceara looked at her somewhat dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Well, it fits.” Liathlas grinned.

“No, we’re not doing that.” Ceara stated. “So…what’s your story?” she asked the dark hued sylvari.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your story? A wyld hunt?”

“I didn’t have a wyld hunt. I’m not one of the lucky ones.”

“Maybe you are a lucky one for not having one.”

“And why do you say that secondborn?”

“Doesn’t it feel better not being tied to the Pale Tree? Not having to answer some call, some preordained destiny set before you?”

“I think it would be something remarkable, to have been chosen to have one.”

“That’s delusional.”

“What’s wrong secondborn? You didn’t like yours?”

Ceara’s bioluminescence flared at the thought of being tied down with a wyld hunt.

“I didn’t have one and I am very thankful I was not chosen for one!” she said sternly.

“A touchy subject, I see” Liathlas replied.

“It’s best to just let it go.” Ceara sneered.

“Now, I’m curious.”

“I don’t have one…” Ceara growled through her teeth.

“Ok…ok. There is no need to get upset. Anyway… we should make a stop by the centaur camp to stock on supplies…and maybe rest for a bit.” Liathlas suggested.

“I agree.”

“This trek will take us a while to reach the jungle. I also suggest we make stop by Camp Resolve as well.”

“Camp Resolve?” Ceara asked, pausing.

“Yes. The camp from which the Pact launched their attack on Mordremoth.”

“I’m fully aware. And they weren’t successful.”

“Sadly, no.” Liathlas sighed. “But in the end, Tyria did prevail.”

Ceara’s face dropped. “And it was because of me.” She thought to herself. “It would probably be best if we do not visit that pact camp.” She paused.

“Hmm?” Liathlas looked over her shoulder at Ceara.

“I have the feeling that I wouldn’t be wanted there.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure it would be fine.”

“I don’t think so.” Ceara muttered.  “So, tell me about this Nafiona.”

Liathlas pondered a moment. “I don’t know much about her. She’s a necromancer and member of the Nightmare Court as I said. And I’ve been tasked with stopping her from finding whatever this item of power she seeks. Stories tell of her being at the Nightmare Tower in Kessex Hills during its construction.”

Ceara stopped in her tracks, looking at Liathlas. “The Nightmare tower?”

“Yes.” Liathlas turned to her. Ceara pondered a moment, remembering the giant spore plant.

“There were so many Nightmare Court there.” She paused, shaking her head lightly. “My memory from those days is fuzzy. I don’t…I don’t remember her at all. How powerful is she?”

Well, she’s a necromancer. Maybe as powerful as Trahearne was. I’m not sure.”

“So, it’s just you against this Nafiona and her slice of the Nightmare Court?”

“Well, since she’s travelling into the jungle, I was hoping to get some of the Pact to help, honestly.”

“I think the remnants of a splintered faction are beneath their worries at the moment.” Cear stated.

“You’re probably right. So, I hope you’ll help instead!” Liathlas grinned at her.

Ceara slowly looked at Liathlas. “Why do I feel like I just got played at my own game.” She sighed heavily.

The trek through the canyons was arduous on foot and took longer than Ceara had remembered. The sun was very low, the blackness of night slowly creeping across the sky. Long shadows were cast through the canyon as they continued.  It wasn’t long before they were approached by a pair of patrolling centaurs who offered to escort them to the camp, which they gladly accepted. Arriving at the entrance, Ceara held her breath.

“It still smells as bad as I remember.” She thought to herself. “What was I thinking agreeing to rest here.” She slowly exhaled and tried to breathe as shallow as she could. Looking around the torch lit area, she saw a handful of other individuals. One looked like a possible merchant, other looked like wayfarers making their way through the region.

“Is there a place where we might rest for the night?” Liathlas asked a one of the centaurs.

“There is a communal structure at the far end of the camp.” He replied.

“Oh, thank you so much.” Liathlas motioned to Ceara to follow.

“Do we really have to stay here?” Ceara asked quietly, a look of disgust on her face. “The smell is terrible. I’ve been trying not to gag.”

“Would you rather stay out there in the desert in the blowing sand and wild beasts? I’m sure any mordrem that might be out there would just love to meet you.”

“That’s…that’s not funny.” Ceara hissed at her. Passing through the camp, they were approached by an aged centaur with a noticeable limp.

“You there.” He said, his voice deep. The pair stopped as he lumbered up to them, setting his gaze upon Liathlas. “What is your name?”

“My name is Liathlas!” she replied happily. “And this is Ceara.”

“And you are?” Ceara asked, almost commanding. The centaur cut his eyes at her for a moment, then back to Liathlas.

“I am Ganthar. You look familiar. The same as your kind that came here a great many years ago.”

“Oh, who was that?” Liathlas asked, her curiosity brimming.

“Her name was Wynne.” He spoke. Ceara gasp slightly at the name.

“Wynne? The firstborn?” Liathlas asked surprisingly.

“Hmm...” the centaur nodded slightly. “She was a gentle soul that visited my tribe many years ago. She was very eager to learn our ways. And very interested in Ventari.” He paused a moment. “Until more of your kind arrived. They attacked us, taking us by surprise. Slaughtered my tribe. I barely survived the assault and escaped with my life.” He told them as he narrowed his eyes at Liathlas. The two sylvari looked at each other momentarily before turning back to him. Ceara slowly placed her hand on her pistol under her cloak.

“It took me a very long time to forgive. To realize there are some amongst your kind that would see the world burn rather than to live in peace. You reminded me of her.” He continued.

“I’m sorry but I did not know her. I was born from the tree much after her. I understand that she was quite peaceful in her demeanor.” Liathlas said, looking at Ceara. Ceara stared at the sand in front of her, slowly releasing her grip on her pistol. She knew of Wynne somewhat, and knew what had happened to her.

“Secondborn, are you alright?” Liathlas asked. “You’ve fallen quite silent.”

“I’m fine. I’m just…just a little sleepy is all.”

The centaur nodded. “You should rest then. I will not take up anymore of your time this night.” He bowed his head slightly and trotted past the sylvari.

“He was rather nice, wasn’t he?” Liathlas said joyfully.

“Yes, I guess so.”

They arrived at the communal structure. A large leathery tent with makeshift beds laid out in two rows.

“Well, this looks healthy.” Ceara stated as she looked over the dimly lit area. A few other travellers were using the area as well. Liathlas made her way to the back of the structure and plopped down on a heavily worn cot.

“Just like being a newborn sapling again, living in the bottom of the Grove.” She said almost whimsically.

“Yeah, except with this terrible smell in the air.” Ceara replied to her, a tone of annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, come now, secondborn. It isn’t that bad.”

“No, it’s bad.” Ceara stated, unstrapping her rifle and leaning it against the next cot. Liathlas looked upon it, various gauges and holographic images glowing softly in the dimly lit area.

“Your rifle seems very vibrant.” She said curiousily, kneeling down waving her hand through the holograms.

“It is. And even more so when when it’s powered up.”

“Did you make it?”

“No, I did not. A pair of asura in Rata Sum constructed it. I am merely…borrowing it…until further notice.”

“Oh, I see.” Liathlas stood and sat back on her cot. “I guess we should get some rest.” She said laying down.

“I guess we should.” Ceara muttered Ceara muttered as she unlatched her shoulder pauldrons and set them beside the cot. The makeshift bedding creaked as she wrapped herself in her cloak and laid down. Staring at the roof of the structure, her thoughts drifted through the recent events of her life and the people she met. Mender Seoras, the asuran pair in Rata Sum whose names she couldn’t remember, and Ventari. She was briefly interrupted by the sound of light snoring coming from her sylvari compatriot in the cot next to her. She smiled lightly for a moment before her thoughts drifted to the Aspect that had been a part of her at one time. A piece of Mordremoth’s will fused with her own mind. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and slightly shaking her head.

“I was so foolish.” She whispered to herself as she tried to drift into sleep.

[nonbinary-renfri]

inspired by this post by @elliestormfound

It’s Lambert’s turn to cook dinner tonight for the witchers wintering in the keep and he’s feeling rather inspired, after Geralt and Eskel went ice fishing and came back with four lovely large trout. Going down to the root cellar while the other two witchers were taking care of the gutting and cleaning and de-scaling of the fish out in the yard, Lambert picked out some onions and some potatoes and some garlic. He also took a container of the goat milk butter they’d started making after Eskel had insisted on getting the keep its own mini goat herd. The animals themselves were stinky, ungrateful bastards, but even Lambert would admit having the fresh milk was nice. Once they finally figured out this goat cheese thing, it’d be even nicer.

But for now Lambert’s heading back upstairs with a basket full of potatoes and onions and garlic and is greeted by some absolutely beautiful fish fillets laid out on the kitchen counter. A lesser man- such as many high-class chefs with their fancy restaurants in the cities- might shed a tear at the sight of such divine knife work. Lambert is so glad Eskel let Geralt do the filleting this time.

He dices onions and garlic and preps the potatoes, washing them and piercing them in several places with a knife. The wood-stove is already lit, doing its best to spread fingers of warmth through Kaer Morhen’s cold stones. Opening up two of the burners, Lambert plunks down a pair of heavy iron saucepans onto the stove. He makes two batches of an onion-butter sauce, one with garlic and one without. While that’s simmering, he seasons the fish with rock salt that he’s fairly certain Vesemir collects and grinds himself, and then divides the fillets out evenly between two baking pans. Lambert pours the sauce over the fish before sliding them, along with the potatoes, into the large oven to slow cook.

With some time to kill, he washes the dishes he’s created so far and then starts poking around in the kitchen cabinets. He finds things he knew were there, like shelves filled with jars of different spices and a section dedicated to baking supplies, and things he didn’t, like glass bottles of apple cider in a bottom cupboard. Lambert uncorks one and sniffs it, and, yep, that is apple cider and it’s still fairly fresh too, probably squeezed and bottled by Vesemir this past autumn. He doesn’t think the old man will mind awfully if Lambert commandeers some of it; it’s for a good cause, and it’s not like Vesemir won’t also get a share of it.

Putting a larger pot on the stove top, Lambert mixes up a hot drink made with apple cider, a splash of squeezed fruit juice, and spices. Sticks of cinnamon and dried orange and lemon slices float in bubbling amber liquid as it simmers on the burner. Dinner will be done before the wassail is, but that’s alright; they can have it as a nice follow-up afterwards.

Lambert glances up from stirring the drink as Vesemir enters the kitchen. The old witcher is carrying a basket with fresh broccoli from the winter garden, tiny bits of ice glimmering on green buds from being washed outdoors in the cold. Taking a deep breath in, he smiles appreciatively. “It smells delicious.” Yellow irises find the bottles of apple cider out on the countertop. “Ah. I see you got into my juice stores.”

“For a good cause, old man.”

Vesemir’s nostrils flare as he leans towards the pot. “Yes, indeed. An after-dinner treat?”

How does he always know these things. “Yeah,” Lambert admits.

“Would you be willing to trust me to watch over your handiwork for a bit? I thought I would add broccoli to the menu tonight, but the table in the hall could really use a wipe down before we sit down to eat.”

“Sure, I can go do that. Stir the pot on the stove occasionally and don’t fucking burn my food, okay?”

Vesemir acquiesces with a nod and waves the younger witcher out the door.

The table is rather dusty and bread crumb-covered from a multitude of meals, so Lambert wipes it down with a dry cloth and then a wet one. He also takes the opportunity to set the table, putting out plates and silverware for all the witchers, though not in the pompous, shitty way a noble household would. Just a fork and a knife, thank you very much. The butter dish and the ceramic howling wolf salt and pepper shakers Eskel had brought back one winter go on the table too. Vesemir keeps his eyes on the broccoli he has searing on the stove as Lambert comes in and out of the kitchen, pretending not to notice as the younger snags napkins for the table that he knows will be neatly folded beside their plates. And he thinks they don’t know that he cares.

Eventually all the food is done cooking and the old witcher lets Lambert take care of the plating of things, helping him carry the platters of roast potatoes and fish and broccoli into the hall. The smells must reach the other witchers in the keep as Geralt and Eskel quickly appear at the door, dressed in clean clothes with cheeks pink-flushed and the slightly spicy-sweet scent from the witch hazel soap they keep in the hot springs wafting off of them.

“Wow, that smells good,” Eskel comments. Geralt’s nostrils flare in agreement and the two are quick to take their usual seats at the table, eagerly eyeing the spread in front of them.

As soon as Vesemir fills his plate, the rest of them are free to dig in as well. Scenting the air, mouth partway open, Geralt gravitates towards the fish without garlic and scoops a good chunk onto his plate. Eskel takes a smaller piece from the same pan and a similar one from the other as well. Like Vesemir, Lambert takes a big serving of the fish with garlic. They all take potatoes and cut them open, steam wafting into the air from the well-cooked soft white insides. Goat butter melts quickly from the heat and they sprinkle rock salt on top of potatoes now drenched in gold. Broccoli joins the rest of the food on their plates and they eat in silence for a while, too hungry from the day’s work and grateful for a good meal to have the wherewithal to interrupt it with conversation.

Eventually though, as Vesemir and Geralt go back for second servings of their preferred fish and Eskel takes more broccoli, they find themselves able to take their concentration enough off the food to talk.

“Thank you for making dinner, Lambert,” Geralt says, because sometimes he can be a polite bastard. Lambert suspects it has something to do with all that time the white-haired man spends around a certain uppity sorceress.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eskel parrots, talking through a mouthful of potato because he doesn’t have a questionable influence in his life to teach him courtly manners. “’S delicious.”

Vesemir nods in agreement. “Quite.”

Resisting the urge to shrug off the praise, Lambert pretends the tips of his ears aren’t turning red. “Mhmm. Yeah. Uh. You’re welcome, I guess.” He remembers the wassail he has simmering in the kitchen still, and takes the excuse to flee the room. “Hot drinks, for after dinner. Should be done, so I’ll, uh, go get them.” Getting up and walking away, he waits until he’s completely out of eyesight of the others, because Vesemir would somehow fucking know if he didn’t, before he lets the bubbling warm feeling in his chest spill onto his face. He smiles the entire walk back to the kitchen.

Returning with a big wooden pitcher full of hot wassail that drifts the sweet scents of apples, citrus, and spices into the air with curls of steam, he pours it into the mugs gathered at the far end of the table, placing one in front of each witcher.

Vesemir, the madman, doesn’t even blow on his before gulping down a large mouthful. He swallows and immediately goes back for a second, humming his approval.

Slightly more cautious, Eskel blows on the surface of his drink before trying it. His face changes to a contemplative look and then he nods, seemingly in approval.

Geralt takes a sip from his mug with an unreadable expression. Lambert watches him carefully, knowing the other witcher can’t stand to drink apple cider on its own. Taking another sip, Geralt lets out a quiet grunt.

Lambert’s voice gets ahead of his head. “So? Is it good?” Shit shit shit way too pushy, what, do you need validation or something-

Shrugging, Geralt says, like he’s simply stating a fact, “Everything you make is good.”

There is a pleased yet embarrassed heat rising in Lambert’s cheeks, because Geralt doesn't say nice things when he doesn't mean them. “Fuck you.” Dammit, why can’t he be the kind of person who just goes speechless in moments like this.

Geralt doesn’t reply, but he’s smiling in that tiny way he thinks is unnoticeable, with the very corners of his lips and the tilt of his eyebrows, or something. The white-haired witcher doesn’t go back for seconds of the hot drink like Eskel does, or fourths like Vesemir, but he finishes the mug that Lambert poured for him, which is compliment enough in the younger’s opinion.

It’s a good night, he thinks, as they finish their drinks and Geralt and Eskel take the dishes back to the kitchen to scrub them clean. Even better as they all pile into the study, with it’s warm wooden walls and bearskin rugs a ballast against the winter’s chill. They quickly have a fire burning bright in the hearth, and the room becomes cozy and comfortable. Vesemir settles into his armchair with the old bestiary he’s currently annotating and the three younger witchers tangle together in a pile on the fur splayed before the fire. They wrestle lazily for a bit before sprawling out drowsily, serene and drifting somewhere close to sleep.

In the early hours of the next morning the armchair is empty, bestiary shut neatly on the accent table beside it, and the fire has reduced itself to cold ashes. Lambert wakes up to white hair tickling his nose and his feet tangled with Eskel’s, the other man’s calves laying on top of Geralt’s knees. Soft fur brushes his chin from the bearskin that had been spread over the three of them sometime in the night, keeping them warm beneath it with their combined body heat long after the fire had died out. There’s no window in this room but Lambert has a feeling it’s still not late enough for them to need to get up, so he lies there with his eyes closed, simply enjoying the weight and warmth of his brothers beside him.

[jaskiersvalley]

So I'm sure that a lot of people tell you this and that I myself told you not even a few days ago, but you are an amazingly talented person

With so many people being so nice (repeatedly!) I need to watch my ego XD I honestly have no idea what I can do to return the kindness other than offer the only thing I have which is more stories. Today it’s a hurt/comfort kind of day - heads up for blood, infection and injury.

Of course Geralt had warned Jaskier to stay out of the way, to follow Roach and leave the fight to him. But could he? Not in the slightest. Jaskier had stayed close to watch, to draw inspiration for his next epic. Well, first epic. Usually, he was more for happy ditties and memorable drinking songs. But a bard could dream! So he had stayed and watched Geralt battle the...something. It had a name that simple wouldn’t be fit for singing so Jaskier had promptly forgotten it in favour of taking note of the swirling blackness that shifted along barbed tentacles. The dripping fangs and the spider like body heavy with the grey-green sludge that trickled and dripped from the wounds Geralt had inflicted. The stench of it hit Jaskier all at once and he was hard pressed to keep breathing, retching noisily. Which only served to draw the creature’s attention and a tentacle shot out. Jaskier turned but it was too late, barbs sliced through his back, sent a burning agony through him. The pull which tried to reel him in stopped and Jaskier let out a cry of relief, the tentacle fell limp from his back. Turning,he was Geralt had sliced it clean off and was now on the creature’s back, sword raised for the final, killing plunge.

Black eyes looked over to Jaskier. “Alright?”

There was no way Jaskier was going to admit to being foolish and being injured as a result so he gritted his teeth and shot back a tight “peachy”. It seemed to do the trick as Geralt hopped off the monster’s back and set about his post kill ritual. Parcelling up useful parts of the creature, bits to sell and the head to claim the bounty. Then it was a matter of finding Roach and heading back to the tavern. It was slow going, Geralt led the way, holding Roach’s reins while Jaskier tried to keep up. His back was a burning somewhat fierce and he wondered whether he could slip off to see a healer while Geralt was sleeping.

His hopes were dashed when, as soon as they were back, Geralt was telling him to pack up, they were leaving as soon as he picked up the bounty. No amount of wheedling and nagging seemed to change his mind. So, Jaskier did the only thing he could. Put on a dark coloured shirt and a leather overcoat. It was too warm for it probably but it was the only thing he had which wouldn’t soak through with blood. He tucked his shirt into his trousers, keeping he waist looser than usual. That way, any blood would trickle down the shirt and not soak the back of his clothes.

Leaving the town, Jaskier sighed. It hurt to play his lute, each breath pulled at his back. So he opted to stay quiet and tried to keep pace with Geralt who was leading Roach rather than riding her. Probably because she had a fair few things attached to her saddle.

The first night, they settled under the protection of some trees, a little way off the road. Remembering Geralt’s superior sense of smell, Jaskier was sure to stay downwind form him and also liberally applied his scented oils to drown out the smell of his blood. His whole back was sticky, the shirt clung to his skin. It was quite disgusting but Jaskier refused to admit his foolishness. Now, it was more because Geralt would be angry at the fact he didn’t mention it at all, rather than the fact that Jaskier, once again, failed to listen to him.

Sleeping on his back was out of the question, so Jaskier ended up on his front, breath only hitching once as he turned. It took a while to fall asleep but he hoped it would do him some good at least.

It did not. Jaskier woke feeling cold but sweaty. His whole back felt tender and stretched, like someone had taped a balloon of molten metal to it. Breakfast was out of the question as nausea made him squeeze his eyes shut. Still, he got up, applied his scented oils, ignored how his shirt had dried to his skin and pulled with each move. He let Geralt go ahead with Roach and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Up front, Geralt was saying something about a hunt, some creature or other. Jaskier honestly couldn’t care less though, his attention eaten up by moving forward, by trying to keep up. His foot caught on a rock and he tumbled, hand shooting out to catch himself. Something on his back gave, warm sludge trickled lower, slowly, too thick to be blood. Geralt didn’t even notice, he might have been talking to Roach for all Jaskier knew. It was certainly more than Geralt usually spoke.

“Geralt,” his voice was strained, “stop.”

Silence engulfed them. Jaskier blinked, patches of dark were dancing in his vision but he could still see the frowning glare Geralt sent his way. A few steps were all Jaskier could manage when a sudden gust of wind from behind picked up. He saw Geralt’s nose twitch and his eyes widen.

Warm hands were on Jaskier, guiding him down slower than he would have met the ground at his own pace. Words rumbled near him but other than knowing it was Geralt’s familiar voice, Jaskier couldn’t focus. His back was hurting, shoulders being forced to roll to slip out of the jacket. Behind him, Geralt sounded angry and Jaskier tried to shy away, not wanting to cause more problems than he already had. However, a hand held him down and something was cutting the back of his shirt open.

Pain was the only thing in Jaskier’s world after that. Pressure on his back increased but the pressing discomfort that radiated from within seemed to ease. The burning of something being poured over his back might have made him scream, Jaskier couldn’t tell if his voice was more than whimpers now. Finally, he slipped from consciousness.

Occasionally he roused. The rhythmic jostle of a horse moving under him while an arm was curled around him to keep him upright. It might have been night or Jaskier could have had his face tucked against a warm chest, he didn’t know.

Another moment where there were people gasping, the world tilted and the sound of feet running while Jaskier floated on a bed of pain.

A bed, it didn’t smell like tavern or Geralt or home. His back was on fire, a thousand tiny prickles which only got worse as he tried to move. Solid hands held him down, there were words somewhere near him but Jaskier couldn’t make out what they were saying. All he knew was that he was in pain and wasn’t being allowed to escape it.

The sheer agony was less the next time he was aware of the world. More bearable but he still didn’t want it. Jaskier was on his front, a few blocks of ice along his sides which made him shiver. Someone brushed a warm hand over his forehead before offering him a few sips of tepid water that tasted sweet yet rotten.

“Geralt?” he called out the next time he woke, a little more coherent.

“He’s sleeping,” a voice called and Jaskier twisted to look. Yennefer sat next to him, looking as beautiful as ever. Even if her eyes betrayed the fatigue she’d never actually show. “Once he knew you were going to pull through, he crashed. It’s been almost a day for him, eight for you.”

Guilt washed over Jaskier at that. Eight days of people fighting to keep him alive. All because he had been stupid and not listened to Geralt.

“Sorry.” It wasn’t often Jaskier apologised but this time, he felt he ought to. “And thank you.”

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with a Witcher,” Yennefer replied haughtily and Jaskier’s stomach tightened. He dreaded to think what Geralt had traded this time. “Relax, he didn’t do anything stupid. Paid me in scented oils - orange and lilacs. Said he couldn’t face their scent after they had been tainted so badly.”

Maybe it was fair that Jaskier’s scented oils were traded for his treatment. And if Geralt couldn’t stomach them now that they reminded him of Jaskier, oozing puss and blood as he fought for his life, well, it was perhaps for the best to be rid of them.

“You said you’d wake me if he came to.” It didn’t sound like Geralt was particularly impressed with the world. More so than usual.

“He’s been awake for three whole minutes. I had to check he was fit for company.”

There was a rumble of response from Geralt as he approached, sat on the edge of Jaskier’s bed and reached to smooth hair from his face. It was a move that felt familiar and Jaskier pressed into it.

“How are you feeling?” It was such an honest question, heartfelt in a way it rarely was from Geralt that Jaskier could only reply honestly.

“Like I’ve spent the last week dying. I certainly smell like it.” That drew a snort from Geralt, not quite filled with humour but close enough. It made Jaskier brave, he wrapped weak fingers around Geralt’s wrist and tugged lightly, adoring how easily the other followed. “This is your signature smell on a good day, you won’t mind a cuddle with someone who smells as bad as you.”

The cuddle was gentle, more like Geralt was cradling the most fragile, precious thing in the world. And to him, he might as well have been. Jaskier let out a sigh and burrowed closer to him, basking in the warmth and comfort.

“I should have listened.” His half-assed apology was lost to the muscles of Geralt’s chest but it didn’t stop him being understood.

“I don’t say things for the fun of it. But if you hide an injury from me again, I will personally kill you.” Geralt replied, his arms tightening just a little. Behind him, Yennefer snorted and stood.

“Well, that’s all on the up. I’ll check in on you in a couple of hours.” She made to leave but turned. “And Jaskier will not be up for any bedroom acrobatics for another couple of days. Don’t even try it.”

While she didn’t get any response to that other than some soft snickering, she wasn’t surprised when she returned, as promised, that Jaskier was curled up into Gerlat’s bare chest, both of them sleeping and looking rather dishevelled yet smug. Idiots, the both of them. Very deserving of each other if they couldn’t listen to simple instructions.

[stardewshanebae]

It’s so fluffy Im gonna die

Stardew Valley had been blanketed in night. Dark clouds rolled overhead, blocking any view of the starry sky. Rose loved walking in the woods south of her farm. There were few people and she could sit on the edge of the cliff and stare at the horizon. Her stomach churned as she approached the cliff. She knew what lay ahead. She held her breath even though the stench of beer already made its way into her nostrils. Her heart was either racing or stopped entirely as she waited to see if the familiar shape was breathing. Shane coughed and sputtered.

“Man, what’s to stop me from rolling off this cliff right now?”

“Shane, please! We’re having a baby, you were excited for this!”

Shane stood, this tall, looming figure and stumbled toward the edge of the cliff.

Thump. Thump. THUMP!

Rose lurched out of bed, panting and heart racing. 

What the hell? She thought. Who is here this early in the morning?

Rose quickly threw one of Shane’s hoodies on over herself before answering the door.

“Good morning, babe.” Much to her surprise, Shane stood before her clean shaven with a bouquet of roses and a to-go container.

Still half asleep, Rose took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Oh umm do you want to come in?” Rose stepped aside to let Shane in the farmhouse.

“Thanks, I won’t be long, since I have to get to Joja on time, but I wanted to ask you something.” Shane stepped in and set the container and flowers on the table. “First,” Shane kneeled down and kissed Rose’s belly, “Good Morning baby” Rose giggled. Shane stood up. “Rose,” Shane put his hands on her waist and pulled her in closer, “make yourself available tonight at 6:00. I’ll meet you here. “ Before she could reply he leaned in and kissed her. Before pulling away he smirked and whispered, “I’m not asking”.

Rose smiled. “It’s a date then.”

Shane pulled away and turned to leave. He commented, “By the way, you look good in my shirt”.

Rose laughed as Shane closed the door behind him. She couldn’t help but smile to herself. 

It was just a bad dream, Rose. He’s better. He is. 

It was so good to see him on the upside. He was even beaming since they found out they were expecting, though they hadn’t told anyone yet. Since that day he always brought her breakfast and dinner, often staying over, and helped her with the farm. 

She turned to the to-go box on the table— inside was a delicious homemade breakfast scramble of eggs, sausage, peppers, cheese, and tomatoes. Shane was a phenomenal cook when he set his mind to it. Those Rose still struggled with food, she couldn’t bring herself to turn down such a kind act from Shane

After her breakfast she cleaned up and went to tend to her farm. She started by letting all the animals out, grooming, and collecting, then proceeded to work in the fields. By the time she was finished, it was well past lunchtime. Rose decided to head inside and shower to wash the grime off herself. 

As she washed her hair, she wondered what on earth Shane could want. He looked so excited, and confident. She smiled. He has been gaining confidence recently. A part of her always worries though, she knows what that darkness feels like, and how easy it is to relapse. 

Rose stepped out of the shower and dried off. Looking through her wardrobe, she tried to decide what would be best to wear. 

She looked through her drawers until she found a long brown skirt, a white shirt, and a soft blue cardigan. She cinched her belt around her waist. She was starting to notice the baby bump, but it was easy enough to cover up. She pulled up some socks and tied up her boots. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. It’s been a while since she’s gotten all dressed up, but she was happy to be dressed up for once.

 She didn’t love wearing makeup, but the occasion seems to call for it. Rose dug around in some of her boxes until she found it. “Aha! The makeup pouch”

Rose looked at her reflection and applied some light makeup. She dabbed some blush, added some mascara, and finished by applying some light lipstick and smacking her lips together to fade it out. She reassessed herself. Now for this hair. She brushed her hair out, and pulled two of the front pieces back with a blue ribbon. 

A few minutes later, Rose heard a knock on the door. She opened the door to see Shane with yet another bouquet of flowers, dressed in jeans and a grey button down shirt. His hair was combed back and he stood in the doorway. “Wow” he breathed. 

Rose blushed and smirked. “You should wow yourself” 

Shane handed her the flowers. “I know I already got you flowers, but I really wanted to get you more.”

Rose took the flowers and put them in a second vase. “Thank you so much” She kissed Shane on the cheek. He was warm. “So where are we going tonight, Mr. Bossy?” 

Shane held out his hand for Rose. “I suppose you’ll have to trust me”. He walked her out of the farmhouse and down toward Cindersap Forest. 

They strayed from the path to a small clearing in the center of a grove by the lake. There was a blanket with a basket in the center. Bowls with candles were scattered around the clearing. Some string lights were strung from the trees. Some throw pillows were scattered on the blanket. Shane led Rose to the blanket, took a seat and patted the blanket next to him. Rose obliged and joined him on the blanket. Shane opens the basket to reveal an assortment of fresh foods and artisan goods. He moved the basket off of the wooden board and started spreading the food out. Shane layed out various cheeses, crackers, cut bread, oils, pepperoni, pepper jam, grapes, sliced oranges, and deviled eggs. Shane held up an egg to Rose’s mouth. She took a bite. It was so good. The filling was creamy and flavorful. Shane smiled “Charlie lays the best eggs.” Rose smiled back, “She sure does, huh?”

Across the lake, Rose could see the pier where she and Shane shared so many memories together, drinks, making out like reckless teens, swimming, their first time… 

Shane has always had a warm aura. He was the kind of warm that Whiskey made you feel on the inside after a shot. He was warm in the way that the sun warmed the floorboards of the farmhouse in the afternoons. He could also burn you like a hot pepper if you didn’t know how to cut the heat. His cold front never got to her though. 

Rose and Shane snacked on the board as they talked. 

Shane looked across the lake at the pier. “You know, I’d like to say I knew you were different the moment I met you, but that would simply be a lie. I didn’t know you were different until we sat on that pier and drank beer together with our feet in the water. You sat with a depressed drunk everyday, even when I gave you the cold shoulder and cut you short. You were always there. You saw me on that pier and you sat with me. No judgement. Just kindness. It sounds pitiful that kindness is what made me see you differently. It wasn’t that I didn't feel anything for you, I was scared of getting my hopes up. So I tried to push you away. But it didn’t deter you. “ 

“Of course it didn’t Shane. You’re special and I love all the parts about you, even when you’re a grump.” 

“Rose, I love you so much. You are a light. I chose this spot for our date tonight because, well, that night you joined me on the pier, for the first time I could see past the night through til tomorrow. I started to look forward to seeing you in passing, even if I couldn’t express it. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself or ruin the friendship. But you kept being kind, you kept going out of your way to see me, and you melted me. It wasn’t until you helped me get to Harvey’s that I knew I couldn’t live without telling you how I felt. I was so scared but you smiled and loved me more. I didn’t deserve that from you. You gave me tomorrow over and over and over again. ”

“Of course you did Shane. You’ve always deserved love. Even when you were at rock bottom, you deserved love. And I'm happy to love you.” 

Shane smiled and cupped Rose’s cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too”

Shane reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a necklace with a small blue shell at the end of it. It shimmered and glowed before Rose’s eyes. “Rose, I can’t imagine a day without you by my side. I know I still have a long way to go and grow, but I want to grow with you. I know you’re going to think this is because of the baby, but I’ve had this planned for a long time. I love you. Jas loves you almost as much as I do. I want tomorrow with you, forever. Rose, will you marry me?” 

Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes. She was feeling a rush of joy and excitement, “Yes, yes of course. “ 

Shane fastened the necklace around Rose’s neck before pulling her into a kiss and wrapping his arms around her. “I promise to love you and cherish you and grow with you as long as I can”

Rose pulled away and cupped Shane’s face in her hands. “I promise to love you and our babies as best I can.” 

“Babies? Plural?” Shane looked worried. 

Rose smiled and nodded, “Jas and our sweet baby girl.”

Shane smiled and grabbed Rose’s hand “I don’t want to wait. Let’s get married in 3 days. We can get everything together for it by then, hell, the only thing you’ll need to do is get your dress ready. I think Emily could certainly help you with that.” 

Rose laughed. “Yeah, she’s gonna be so excited too. Say, did you tell anyone you were doing this?” 

Shane smiled, “Well, I did talk to Emily about it, and I asked Jas about it about 4 months ago. “

“Four months? But tha-”

“I told you, I’ve been planning this for a long time, Rose.” 

Rose leaned into Shane. “Spend the night tonight?” 

He smiled and hugged her. “Of course.” 

They cleaned up the picnic set, and started to stroll around the lake, just enjoying each other’s presence. 

“I’ll have to call my parents and let them know we’re getting married. “

Shane smiled. “Yeah, you’ll be Mrs. Caulfied come Saturday.” 

Rose blushed. Her fingers intertwined with Shane’s and everything felt right. The cool fall air nipped at her cheeks and the leaves crunched under their feet. 

Shane dropped the picnic basket off in front of the ranch and they walked to the farm together.