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seraph-starman · 1 month ago

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admit it | s.w.

pairing: sam winchester x reader summary: sam’s sleep schedule finally catches up to him word count: 1.9k remi’s notes: i had sassy, early seasons sam in mind for this (so you should too !) even though the plot doesn’t match <3 (-2 degrees celcius is close to 28 degrees for our american friends)

You had advised him to wear a jacket. It was raining, and -2 degrees outside as you trekked through the forest in an attempt to retrace your steps and find where the Impala was parked. You had gotten lost after the hunt for the burial site of an angry ghost. Usually Dean was pretty good at remembering where he parked his beloved car, but it was dark when you arrived and this forest was much bigger than anticipated. At the sound of sniffing behind you, barely audible over the sound of leaves crunching in your path and tapping of rain, you stop and turn to Sam. He shoots you a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. And rain can’t even make you sick,�� he says in response to your stare before continuing to walk past you.

“Sure, rain can’t make you sick. But being cold and wet for prolonged periods of time can. We’ve been out here for an hour. And you don’t get a healthy amount of sleep, which can put you at risk for illnesses,” you reply, paraphrasing the article you had memorized just for this occasion as you catch up with him.

“I get plenty of sleep. Trust me, I’m not sick.”

Dean then looks back to you both, shaking his head in annoyance.

“You two are being a real help here.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

The older Winchester stops and turns back, looking offended.

“Of course I know where we’re going!“

You both stop as you reach where Dean stood, eyes peering through the curtain of rain over the river that stood before you, to the trees that stretched for acres. The sun was rising over the tops of the woods.

“Here,” Sam says, sniffing between the actions of reaching into his pocket and then handing Dean a crumpled map. Dean groans, throwing his hands up before snatching the map from him.

“You had that this whole time?” He asks rhetorically before unfolding the map and turning to face the forest. Sam leans over his shoulder, before turning sharply into a forceful sneeze. Both you and Dean turn to stare at him. Sam wipes his nose as he’s met with both your looks, Dean’s grimace and your amusement. He frowns irritatedly before waving it off.

“I’m fine! Figure out where we are, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, gazing back over the map.

“I think… that we’re here,” he accentuates with a jab to the river on the sodden map, “so that means that we need to go that way.“

He gestures up a soft hill and begins walking again, you trailing behind and Sam bringing up the rear. You fall into step beside him, lumbering along in Dean’s wake. Up close you could see the dark circles under his eyes, the undeniable consequence of his sleeping habits. Hell, none of you had gotten good sleep in a long while. But you knew Sam had it the worst. Occasionally you’d hear his low-voiced discussions with Dean, spoken only when they thought you were out of earshot. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, not at all, despite the teasing and the way he seemed consistently annoyed with you. He hated talking about his dreams, feeling like he was burdening someone with his own issues. Even with Dean he struggled. You’re interrupted out of your psycho-analysis of Sam as he realizes you’re staring. Again, but this time he could see the subtle concern in your gaze. It bothered him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head as you turn back to look ahead. You recognize the pullout a few feet ahead, where Dean was already brushing leaves off the Impala. You’d never been happier to see that car, and Sam seems to have a similar sentiment as he sighs in relief.

The ride back to the bunker was quiet. Dean was too tired to put any music in, and the rain had quieted to a gentle tapping on the hood of the car. Cas was waiting when you got back, offering a quick congratulations on your success with the ghost before baiting Dean into another hunt. Sam had relentlessly tried to convince all of you that he was functioning as usual, that he could go with Dean and Cas. He was soon after proven wrong by the hellish coughing fit that followed his lame debate. So now it was just the two of you, and Sam had locked himself in his room with a box of tissues. All the better for you. It wasn’t like you wanted to listen to or take care of an irritated, fever-ridden Sam. You’d offered him some tea to help with his throat before he left to sulk in his room, which he’d accepted begrudgingly. He still refused to accept the fact that he was ill. You had attempted to research for long enough, disrupted in your focus each time Sam came in or out of the kitchen. You finally decided to check on him, whether he liked it or not.

“Sam? I have soup,” you say through his door, bowl in one hand and the other on the knob.

“I don’t like soup,” he grumbled hoarsely from the other side.

“Too bad.”

You push the door open, receiving a huff from him. He was laying back, four blankets over his lap and a fan pushing cold air towards him from a few feet away. Empty mugs littered his bedside table, along with a bottle of aspirin and a half empty pack of cold medicine capsules. A few tissues had been balled up and tossed around the trash can. You held in a snicker.

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” you quote. Sam sighs again, exasperatedly. You set the soup (mushroom) on his bedside table before turning to the TV.

“Love Island? Seriously?”

He furrows his brows at your judgement.

“It’s really not that bad. I mean, obviously it’s fake, but it’s somewhat entertaining. Better than whatever’s on cable, I guess.”

You shrug, picking up tissues and tossing them into the garbage before gathering the mugs, Sam watching your tidying carefully.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he says, turning the volume down on the TV.

“It’s fine,” you reply, carrying the stack of mugs out of the room, when Sam’s voice stops you.

“Can I… have more of that tea that you made earlier? Please,” He asks. He much preferred coffee over tea, but ever since you had made him earl grey, (with a bit of milk and honey) it had become a quick favorite.

You turn and smirk.

“You like it?”

“It’s not bad,” he said, shrugging.

Your smirk remains as you walk to the kitchen and set the empty mugs near the sink, setting the kettle back over the stove. For some reason, you were happy he liked your tea. And that he wasn’t being as stubborn as usual. You had been slightly caught off guard with his change in demeanor, from irritated to benign. After a few minutes of breathing in steam, the kettle whistles, announcing that it was finished boiling. You pour the water into one of the only remaining clean mugs and follow the routine of what you’d made before, when a shadow moving in the corner of your eye almost causes you to knock the still-hot mug over. The thing clears its throat roughly and you realize who it is.

“Jesus!” You say, steadying the mug.

Sam’s eyes meet yours, expression shifting from hard-set to attentive, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“D’you need help?” He asks, taking the mug and holding it in his hands, looking down into the swirls of milk in the dark like he was searching for an untold prophecy. You watch in amusement as he sips the tea, making a face as it burns his tongue.

“It’s hot,” you add, smiling as he scoffs and sets the mug aside.

“You need to get back to bed.”

He rolls his eyes.

“What, so I have a curfew now?”

There goes soft, polite Sam. You sigh. This was going to be a long night. You usher him back to his room and somehow convince him to more medicine. He lays back on his bed, observing you as you lean in the doorway.

“You just going to stand there?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug.

“I can leave. You need to sleep anyways.”

“I’m not tired.“

You roll your eyes, when a grin starts to spread across your face.

“Y’know, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you get sick. Between the awful crap you come into contact with and your sleeping tendencies, you’d think there would’ve been at least one instance. But no. Somehow you avoid any illness. How’d you do it? Bribe a god? Is it something in those so-called ‘health shakes’ of yours? Honestly, it’s a medical mystery. You should be studied.”

Sam listens to your slight ramble, face growing more and more skeptical.

“Those shakes are actually good for you,” he replies.

“Out of everything I just said, that’s what you choose to defend?” You say, resisting the urge to scoff.

Sam rolled his eyes.

You look him over for a moment, before walking toward the desk to pick up the few newer balled-up tissues.

“Seriously though, you should at least try to get some sleep now. Even if you don’t want to. And, you’re probably too fatigued for the dreams-”

As soon as it slipped out you knew you shouldn’tve said anything. Sam looks to you as soon as it comes out, narrowing his eyes.

“Lemme guess— Dean?” He asks, irritation flooding his tone.

“No, no. I’ve heard you talk about them. With Dean. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I swear,” you add, “but I’ve heard enough.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“You could talk to me about them, Sam. If you wanted to. My opinion of you won’t change,” you say, voice much lower than it was before.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just not your problem,” he says, sucking in a breath.

You sit down in the chair, facing him but avoiding his gaze.

“It can be our problem. All of us. This is really corny, but you’re not alone, Sam. Really.”

He sniffs.

“That was corny,” he agrees, laughing and then smiling slightly, “but… thanks.”

The lamp light cast shadows over his face, and you could see the dimples of his genuine smile. You suddenly wanted to kiss them, a thought that a you’re alarmed by, before it slips away.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, leaning forward to press the back of your hand to his forehead. He looks surprised, eyes flicking up to yours. They stay there, his lips parted like he was going to say something but never does. You smile, and his smile returns, softer but still present. And despite his runny nose and fever-flushed face, you kiss him. It isn’t rushed, or passionate or lustful or wanton. It’s just a kiss. But it means so much. Finally feeling comfortable. Safe. Needed. He goes rigid for a moment, before finally catching up and kissing back. His lips are slightly chapped, but also soft. You kiss the sides of his lips, his dimples as he grins into you. Then he grabs your shoulders and pulls back slightly, breathlessly, still smiling.

“Fantastic… that’s how I feel. But also- sick. And I don’t want you to-”

You laugh, “Oh, so now you admit it?”

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester x reader #remitober 2024 !#flufftober #sam winchester #writing event #sam winchester fluff #sam x reader #sam winchester x you

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astralnymphh · 1 year ago

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just imagine ellie with a tongue piercing giving u head…. lord🤕🤕🤕

ran the fuck over when i saw this. lordd please pierced!ellie>>>>>

she would convince herself that going under the needle n getting her tongue pierced would make her head game better prbly. so it's half for her own ideals and half for you.

the way the cold ball would continuously hook under the hood of your clit, and with purpose. her wormy pink muscle would glide between your pearly wet folds and then plunge in just enough that the piercing would prod at your bud. and her head game is good.. so she knows exactly how to incorporate that little ball of steel while she toys with u, coddiling your clit. i just know she would slap her tongue down on ur clit, perfectly positioned so it would make contact each and every time, watching you jolt and tense up with a pride filled grin, ear to ear. she slinks her tongue out, and a husky voice croaks, "y'like that, huh? got' it done just f'you." and strains with pitch when you bear down in search of her tongue, "fuck, mhh– okay, okay.. i'll stop talkin."

has her eyes peeled constantly– eyeing your expressions over the hill of your crotch. it gets her own panty sodden with slick, her own pussy beating red wantonly, engorging and pushing on the inseam of her denim– watching your eyes wrinkle up in bliss and your jaw unhinge in release of those honeyed moans, mewling her name, "ellie, elliee– fuck, s'good.." you start to wriggle and writhe, pussy lips convulsing around her working muscles and she catches on– you're about to cum. so she flattens the plateau of her tongue and caves it over your bud– piercing jabbed to your clit, wagging her head with stifled gasps flowing through her open mouth, cracking a few chuckles feeling ur juices coat her tongue in delicious spurts. coos "fuuckk, keep cummin' babygirl, thats it– thaats it, don' hold back. m'wanna taste you." in a slurred flub cause she has her tongue unfurled and hanging out. after the last squirt of cum, she retreats her tongue, drawing webs of spit and serumy cum connecting from the head of her tongue– and the piercing– from your sloppy enraged labia, watching the strings snap or drape over her chin. goddess, if that wasn't electrifying enough, she glides up your body, gaining on all fours and swooping her head in for yours, damn near shoving her tongue down your throat so you can taste yourself, and feel the piercing screw.

this dork definitely got told it makes oral better

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams concept #pierced!ellie #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble

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thirteenducks · 1 year ago

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smoke and wine

(diluc x fem!reader) [suggestive, but SFW]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader wears a dress and is referred to as 'her'), some suggestive content, no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~4.7k

༻❁༺ tags: self indulgent stormfic, adelinde best mother figure AND wingwoman, flustered diluc supremacy, reader does not want to cause trouble for diluc, diluc desperately wants reader to cause trouble for him, diluc wears boxer briefs because i said so, rampant use of ellipses

༻❁༺ author's note: i am back to offer you this with my hands outstretched before i vanish into the void for another six months :/ regardless, thank you for reading! <33 this fic was inspired by this lovely art by @mmmairon https://www.tumblr.com/mmmairon/733185437964926976/hi-mairon-i-love-the-self-insert-comfort-you-did?source=share please go check it out!

Diluc is a simple man. If there's something he can provide, he'll go out of his way to do it. And if that means allowing you to stay at his home for the night during a fierce storm, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort.

Before today, you had considered yourself rather proficient in predicting the weather for your forays into the Mondstadt hills. Experience had given you somewhat of a sixth sense for which afternoons would yield sunny skies and which would leave you huddled under a tree during a downpour.

This storm, however, had truly come out of nowhere.

When your feet finally find the steps of the vineyard path ahead of you, you’re already too drenched to bother running from the rain. Your shoes, unfit for travel through the rain-soaked countryside, leave puddles behind everywhere you step; your dress is so soaked through that it must leave nothing to the imagination.

You shiver, thanking Barbatos that you seem to be the only unfortunate traveler caught in this downpour. At least the grates of the grapevines above you give you some form of cover from the lashing sheets of rain.

Through the raindrops in your eyes, you gaze at the herbs in your basket, their delicate leaves sodden and dripping. Once the storm has passed, and you've returned home, you doubt they will be much worth keeping. So much for freshly-gathered, you lament.

Distracted by your mournful predictions, you hardly notice the dirt beneath your feet has turned to stone and you’re suddenly before the imposing building that dominates the landscape. Above you, lanterns on posts swing wildly in the wind, illuminating the grand wooden door of Dawn Winery.

As you huddle beneath the scant protection of the balcony above, poised to knock, you’re inevitably reminded of the only other time you’d encountered the owner of this estate.

In the many months since, you’d learned which places to avoid in the Mondstadt countryside due to high monster traffic. That morning, however, the abyss mage had appeared out of nowhere in the sunny meadow of sweet flowers, leering at you and your lack of a weapon. You had barely gathered the presence of mind to drop what you were holding and run when the noise of boots, fast approaching, came from behind you. In another second, a blur of red and black had sped by and a gloved hand was pushing you down to the ground. Overhead, a blast of ice meant for your heart had split the sky above you instead.

Before you could regain your wits, the horrible sound of what you could only imagine were the monster’s last words tore through the air and flames, red and deep orange, surrounded you. The blue of the sky above you was ringed with fire.

Pushing yourself up by your elbows, you had scrambled to your feet, fear shooting through you like lightning as the flames licked higher and hotter around your boots -

And then they were gone, extinguished in an instant. Your breaths coming fast and shallow, you had inspected yourself for injuries and found nothing amiss but a few singed pieces of hair.

The gloved hand had appeared again in your field of vision, hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.

“Are you alright? That attack didn’t hit you, did it?”

The voice was low and unfamiliar, and you had followed the sound until your eyes caught a mane of red hair in a sea of black. He smelled like smoke; you could see it emanating off the massive sword he held in his other hand.

“I’m not hurt, thank you. I had no idea this area wasn’t safe...” You murmured, gazing at the now-scorched patch of flowers you had stood so peacefully in a moment before. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, sir.” You offered your hand and name in introduction, and he had taken both with a gentle grace. His questioning eyes alighted on your belongings, dress, and hair before returning to your face.

“Please, call me Diluc. Of Dawn Winery,” he answers, anticipating your question. “I’m the one who should apologize. This one -” he glances down at the ground in distaste, where a few shining leaves are all that is left of the abyss mage - “got away from me last night, and I’ve been chasing it down ever since. Really, it’s my fault.”

You duck your head in gratitude. “Thank you regardless, Diluc. I’ll make sure to avoid this area in the future...” You trail off sadly. This had been the best hill in the area to collect sweet flowers...

His face had changed a bit at your vow, so quickly you might have imagined it, before his handsome features returned to an unreadable expression. The exchange had not lasted long past that point.

“Keep yourself safe,” were his brief parting words, leaving you with a nod before starting at a brisk pace toward the building in the distance.

And now that same building is before you once more. Drawing your bag closer to you in trepidation, you knock, the sound barely reaching your ears over the roar of thunder overhead.

You don’t have to wait long in the harsh wind before the giant door swings open and you’re face to face with the same man from all those months ago, staring at you with his mouth slightly parted. You blink at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to say, until a woman’s soft voice calls from behind him in the doorway.

“Master Diluc? Is there someone out there?”

A middle-aged woman with a kind expression peers over Diluc’s shoulder at you and gasps.

“Master Diluc! What are you doing, keeping her out here in all this rain?” she chides, pushing Diluc’s shoulder to punctuate her sentence, and he blinks as if coming out of a trance. He steps out of the doorway and allows the woman to grab you gently by the hand and lead you into the warm, carpeted foyer. The great door swings shut behind you with a soft thud and you allow yourself an exhale of relief at being out of the storm, if only for a few minutes.

“Goodness, you’re soaked through.” The woman, who wears a maid’s uniform, putters around you, taking your belongings from your grasp and hanging them on a stand next to the door. As she circles you, murmuring with concern, you take the opportunity to explain yourself.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, ma’am, I was just gathering herbs near Stone Gate when the downpour started...” You lock eyes with Diluc, who has not said a word yet. Your resolve wavers, but a drop of water cascading down your back causes you to shiver and you remember your situation. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I impose upon you until the worst of the storm passes?” Your teeth chatter a bit as a draft catches your soaked clothing. “I promise I won’t make too much trouble for -”

You’re cut off by the sensation of something large and warm surrounding you. It smells of smoke and wine and you look up in surprise to see Diluc, now bare to the arm, settling his overcoat on your shoulders. A light shade of pink dusts his cheekbones.

“This storm isn’t likely to pass before tomorrow morning at the earliest,” he rumbles, avoiding your eyes. “Adelinde, please tell Moco and Hillie to prepare a bath and fresh sheets in the downstairs guest room.”

The warm timbre of his voice is tinged with something you can’t identify. Before you can protest, the woman, who must be Adelinde, gives him a nod. She curtsies to you with a smile and takes her leave.

Now standing alone with Diluc, you hurriedly voice your objections and promise to be on your way after you dry off a bit and perhaps borrow an umbrella. The man in front of you, however, refuses to acquiesce.

“You’ll at least let Adelinde feed you dinner, won’t you? It’s quite late already,” he remarks, glancing out the bay window at the darkened sky. “Have you eaten?”

At your dissenting response, he nods as if all is settled. You stare down at your shoes in mingled embarrassment and relief, watching the pools of water sink into the rich carpet.

Diluc clears his throat and moves his hand to hover behind the small of your back as he walks towards the fireplace. “Please, wait here for Adelinde to return. I’ll speak to her about getting you some dry clothes to wear for the night,” he says, gesturing to the couch in front of the fire.

You grimace as you sit, the damp fabric of your dress sticking to you and probably ruining the plush velvet of the sofa. Not to mention Diluc’s coat...

Before you can dwell too long on that, Adelinde reappears with a steaming cup of tea that she sets in front of you. She appears to be in conversation with Diluc about something across the table as you sip your tea, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into your bones.

“It’s awful luck that everything had to be taken in from the clotheslines when it started to rain,” she sighs. “There’s not a dry piece of women’s clothing in the house, I’m afraid.”

Diluc hums in contemplation. “I suppose mine will have to do, then. As long as it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, of course...” He trails off as he turns to you, his cheeks pink again.

You laugh a bit, good humor returning to your body as the warmth does. “I’ll take any clothing you have to offer, Adelinde. Truly, thank you.”

She smiles, and before you can say anything else, Diluc has gotten to his feet and is already halfway up the stairs. Your eyes follow him as he goes, afraid you’ve said something wrong, but Adelinde just laughs and gestures for you to stand.

“Don’t mind him. The young master’s always that straightforward. Let’s get you into a warm bath, hm?” She starts for the hallway at a brisk pace, ignoring your concerns about the water you’re tracking across the floor.

As the head maid leads you to the guest room, Diluc stands in his own quarters, staring at his bureau with a look of deliberation that a complex military maneuver might inspire. All around him, various pieces of clothing lay rejected. He’s glaring daggers at his pants drawer, which he now realizes contains only neatly folded black slacks and pairs of underwear.

Do I really only wear slacks and boxer briefs?

That’s a question for another day. For now, he lays out his options.

He can’t... he can’t offer you his underwear to wear. That’s out of the question. Few things could be less appropriate to lend to a guest, let alone a pretty...

He shakes his head. His face is burning just thinking about it.

But wouldn’t you be uncomfortable in dress pants? They’d hardly fit you, anyways, so you might have to wear a belt as well just to keep them up... And could you really sleep in them? You’d probably end up shedding them, right?

He shakes his head again before he can go any further with that... dangerous thought.

He huffs. This is going nowhere. He’ll have to bring them both to Adelinde and see what she has to say, he thinks as he descends the staircase with a stack of clothes in hand.

Meanwhile, you stand with Adelinde in the most lavish guest bedroom you’ve ever set foot in. The bedspread, softer than a lamb as you run your hand over it, matches the curtains of the four-poster bed it rests on and the wall behind it. She opens the door to the attached bathroom, where a steaming claw-foot tub stands in the center. The aroma coming from it is like that of the lampgrass you had been collecting that afternoon before the storm hit, and it draws you to it like a moth to flame.

Adelinde curtsies to you and asks you to simply leave your wet clothes by the door and she’ll send someone to pick them up and deliver dry clothes in a bit. With that, she shuts the bedroom door behind you and leaves you to disrobe in the sweet-smelling bathroom.

After so long with your soaked garments clinging to you, peeling them off feels incredible. The water is the perfect temperature as you slide into it, feeling the stress of the afternoon melt away from your shoulders. The soaps next to the bath are thick and luxurious, perfuming the air with a thousand faint floral scents.

You don’t know how long you sit there, half-awake and submerged to the nose in the sweet-smelling water, until a knock at the bedroom door brings you back to reality.

Thinking it to be Adelinde or another maid, you straighten up and stretch your arms. You’d rather not get up and let her in yourself, so you merely call out your permission to let herself in. After all, the water’s so nice, and you don’t have anything to cover yourself with but a towel, anyways.

The door opens quietly and a heavy step can be heard entering the bedroom and shuffling around a bit until it suddenly pauses.

That’s odd. “Adelinde?” you call, rising a bit in the water to peek into the bedroom through the open door. No answer comes.

Furrowing your brow, you move to get out of the tub when the panicked voice of a man rings through the room.

“Wait! Wait, please... Archons, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you were - the door is - ”

It’s Diluc. He sounds more flustered than you thought was possible of such a stoic man.

“I just came to drop these off,” he continues, voice discomposed, and there’s a sound of something being placed on a chair. “Please forget this happened. I- I apologize a thousand times. I’ll, um, wait outside - please, forgive me... I’m leaving now, I swear.”

And with that, the bedroom door closes with a thunk. You’re left frozen, your hands on the rim of the tub, your face a fetching shade of scarlet.

Diluc, on the opposite side of the door, is in no better shape. Not only had he walked in on you while you were- not only had he imposed upon you, but he had completely forgotten his objective of having Adelinde choose your clothing. Which meant, of course, that you were about to walk out of the bath and be faced with an odd selection of things to clothe yourself with.

It’s not like he can go back in and tell you it’s a mistake, though. Diluc sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, willing his heart rate to go down. Idiot. He’s an idiot.

Since the least he can do now is protect you from any further embarrassment, he thinks, he takes up a guard position outside your bedroom door.

It helps to know that at least it’s just him and the maids in the house, so you have no one else to worry about. It doesn’t help to know that you’re currently bare and covered in soap a scant twenty feet from him.

He buries his head in his hands again.

Meanwhile, you’ve removed yourself from the tub and are drying off while waiting for your pulse to return to normal. The towel in your hands is probably the fluffiest thing you’ve ever touched, yet it barely registers in your mind at the moment.

You weigh the ethics of telling Adelinde you’ve suddenly fallen violently ill and cannot come to dinner, but eventually you’ve gathered yourself enough to inspect the clothing Diluc brought you. There’s a black dress shirt, which is softer against your skin than it first looked as you button it up to your collarbone. Like his coat, it too carried a familiar fragrance of smoke and wine.

Turning to the rest of the stack, you’re confused to see a pair of dress pants and a pair of men’s... underwear?

They also smell like him… you think, as you pull them on.

Diluc, still fighting a blush, is leaning against the wall outside your door when Adelinde finds him. A hurried conversation ensues that you don’t catch much of from inside, but it’s clear enough that Adelinde is laughing at her master’s expense.

She knocks, asking if you’re dressed, and waits for your affirmation before she enters. You hold up the slacks to her, a question on your lips, but the head maid puts her hand on yours before you say a word.

“You don’t have to wear those unless you want to. I know they’re far from the most comfortable pants in the world. Besides, it’s only Master Diluc and us maids here,” she assures you. “You have nothing to worry about, dear. It’s up to you.” You return her smile and fold the slacks, passing them to her waiting hand. “Why don’t you come sit by the fire while I set the table?”

Thus assured, you leave the safety of the guest bedroom in only Diluc’s shirt and boxer briefs. Outside, the lord of the manor himself is standing in the hallway with a look of contrition on his face.

He turns at the sound of the door and his eyes meet yours.

It’s fatal. You offer him a smile, hoping to pretend the earlier situation never happened, but you’re met instead with a blank stare that makes you falter. Was he… angry?

Archons, did he think you had let him into your room on purpose while you were undressed? The thought sends you spiraling. This was bad. You have to fix this. You fiddle with the hem of the dress shirt and prepare to apologize.

Across from you, Diluc is fighting an uphill battle with his self control to keep his eyes on yours as you stand before him in only his underwear.

You were supposed to be wearing pants. Not… fuck, you’re staring at him like he has three heads. He has to say something. He has to set your mind at ease. He has to be a gentleman.

Think of Varka. Think of Seamus Pegg. Think of fucking Barbatos. For the love of Celestia do not think of anything else. Now SAY something.

“...How was your bath?”

You blink. “It was… lovely, thank you.”

DO NOT THINK OF HER IN THE BATH.

By the grace of whatever archons are watching over him, Diluc manages to carry a stilted conversation with you in which he apologizes profusely for his behavior earlier.

You do your best to reassure him that it was an honest mistake and no harm was done (except to your heart, but you’d hardly admit that). You soon find that he’s also asking your pardon for the “inappropriate” selection of clothes he brought you, however.

“Please, don’t apologize. They’re very comfortable.” You smile at him and Diluc feels his heart skip far too many beats. “Thank you again for your kindness, Diluc.” Archons, he loves the way you say his name. You’ll kill him at this rate.

Soon he’s falling into step behind you as Adelinde leads you into the dining room and seats you by the fire with a blanket. Satisfied that you’re comfortable, he turns and prepares to return to his study for the evening.

Before he can, though, he’s arrested by your voice, innocently asking if he wouldn’t be joining you for dinner.

“I’m afraid I have… work to attend to,” he murmurs, glancing up to his office. “My apologies. I hope you enjoy- ow, Adelinde -”

The maid in question has two fingers wrapped around Diluc’s ear and is wearing a look of exasperation as she tugs on it, ignoring his words of protest. In a voice that suggests this is a common occurrence, she strongly forbids him from doing any more work tonight.

“Is it not the job of the master of the manor to keep his guests company?”

“Adelinde...”

“Master Diluc.”

He sighs, meeting your eyes with a sheepish look. “It appears that I’ll be joining you after all.”

With that, he settles himself in the armchair adjoining your couch, allowing his large frame to relax into it. A pleasant quiet descends as you watch the fire, listening to the maids readying the meal in the kitchen and the storm as it continues to rage outside.

You’re brought out of your reverie by Diluc’s voice, softer than you’ve yet heard it.

“May I ask how you found yourself out in the downpour this afternoon?”

You smile. “For the same reason I was out the first time we met.” He nods in recognition, glancing at the gathering bag and basket that still hang by the door to the winery.

“So, you’re a botanist, then? Or maybe an herbalist?”

The two of you continue this way, Diluc asking you questions about yourself in a low voice, and you answering them in the same soft tone. You lose track of time in the easy back-and-forth.

After what feels like only a few minutes, a maid alerts you that dinner is ready; you rise and stretch, the blanket falling away from where it covers your bare legs. Diluc pointedly looks away, but you’re too distracted by the lovely smells coming from the table behind you to pay him any mind.

Walking ahead of you, Diluc draws out the seat adjacent to the head of the table and waits for you to sit before taking his own seat. The maids have been busy: a pot of tea, a bottle of sparkling wine, plates of roast beef, green beans, buttered potatoes, and stuffing, a tray of candied pecans, an apple tart, and a myriad of smaller dishes all line the ornate table. For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to take a portion of anything.

Fortunately, Adelinde appears beside you and asks which and how much of each dish you would like, and soon your plate is as full as it can be.

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you eat. The food is beyond reproach. Either the maids and Adelinde have pulled out all the stops tonight for you, or wealthy estate owners eat like this every night. You’re not sure which makes you feel more out of place, but the food is too delicious and you’re too tired to dwell on such things now.

Periodically, Diluc asks how you’re liking a certain dish or if you would like more of what you’re drinking. As the maids top off your glass of wine and you begin to feel the day catch up with you, however, your responses to Diluc get slower and shorter until you can barely keep your eyes open.

Through your lowered lids, you’re graced with the sight of a rare smile as the man next to you takes you in. He stands, offering you an ungloved hand in a silent offer to escort you to your room. You’re too exhausted to notice the color that comes to his face when you gladly take it and get to your stumbling feet.

By the time you’ve reached the door to your room, you’re leaning more on him than you are on your own legs. Offering Diluc a drowsy smile, you bow a little and thank him once again. He returns it in kind, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little bit. He’s never looked more handsome.

“Have a restful night. With any luck, the storm will abate by morning. Please, if there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to come ask me.”

And with that, he leaves you to the plush sheets of the guest room. You’re asleep almost before your head hits the pillow.

You dream of smoke and wine.

In the small hours of the morning, you awake to a cold draft that makes you shiver and a mind fuzzy from sleep. You try in vain to return to sleep, the soft silk sheets beckoning to you, but a peal of thunder seems to shake the house every time you close your eyes.

Sighing, you sit up and rub your eyes. It’s almost pitch black in the room; the sun won’t rise for several hours yet.

Maybe you could make yourself a cup of tea? You shiver a bit, drawing the covers tighter around you. Sitting by the fire doesn’t sound bad, either.

Your feet are quiet on the carpeted floor as you gently open your bedroom door and step into the hallway. Sure enough, there’s a flickering light from the main room; the fire must be still alive in the grate.

You gather the blanket around you and hurry towards the warmth, only to stop short at the silhouette of a figure sitting where you were earlier. You take another tentative step onto the floorboards, but a creak gives you away. The figure stiffens and turns to face you.

Diluc’s face and frame relaxes when he sees you, but there is still a hint of worry in his tone when he asks, “Is there something wrong? Are you warm enough in your room?”

You nod, stepping gingerly around the couch to sit next to him. He shifts a little to give you more space as you pull your legs up beside you. “Everything’s fine. I just went to bed a little too early,” you assure him. “Could I trouble you to let me into the kitchen? I’d like to make myself a cup of tea, if it’s alright.”

“Please, allow me,” he murmurs, producing a pot and a second cup from the table next to him, where he was apparently enjoying one himself.

You sip it gratefully, allowing the taste to linger in your mouth. “May I ask why the esteemed Master Diluc is still awake at this hour?”

He smiles a bit at that and mentions that he never sleeps well during storms.

The two of you watch the flames as you sip your tea, listening to the patter of rain on the roof. Even at this hour, the fire is still going strong. A thought strikes you and you turn to Diluc’s lap.

Sure enough, his vision is glowing, pulsing in a gentle bump-bump pattern that you’ve heard matches the wielder’s heartbeat. It relaxes you to see it so steady and dependable.

Before long, the warmth of the fire and the tea have lulled you back soundly to sleep.

For the first time today, Diluc allows his gaze to rake over you unhindered.

You, asleep on his couch in his manor. Smelling like him. Dressed in his shirt and underwear.

In only his shirt and underwear, the least helpful part of his brain reminds him, and he has to stare at the fire for a while to curb that train of thought. It’s difficult when his gaze keeps flickering back to you anyway.

He counts himself lucky you’re not awake to see how the fire in the grate has grown in size and intensity, or how the vision on his hip is flickering in a wild bmp-bmp-bmp.

After reciting everything he knows of Mondstadtian foreign policy in his head a few times, he’s able to tone down the blush on his face enough to be manageable. As for the familiar, tight ache in his pants, he regards it as a lost cause. For now.

Diluc stands, stretching his arms with a quiet groan before turning to your sleeping form. He gently scoops you up into strong arms and wraps you tighter in the blanket you’re still clinging to, careful not to wake you. As he begins the slow walk to your doorway, a small smile adorns his face.

Upon ducking into your room, careful not to hit your legs against the doorway, he frowns. It’s much colder here than it was in the living room. He’ll have to do something about that.

As he places you under the covers, he unclips the vision from his thigh and folds it into your hand, where it thrums with a gentle rhythm . You drift awake for a moment, recognizing the red mane that hangs over your chest as Diluc tucks in the blanket around you.

Seeing your eyes flicker, he calls your name gently. “Are you comfortable?” You nod with a smile that hurts his heart in the best way.

“Thank you, Diluc,” you murmur blearily, and he laughs a bit. You have just enough consciousness left to decide it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard as you slip back under the blanket of sleep.

That night, as the storm continues to rage outside his bedroom windows, Diluc sleeps better than he has in a long time. Downstairs, his vision pulses in your hand to his steady heartbeat.

You dream of warmth.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #fem!reader #genshin x reader #flustered dilu.......#pls let me live at the winery i swear i'll be good #dilucposting

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perseruna · 6 months ago

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Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate.

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks.

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill.

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible.

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one.

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters.

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc.

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #long post #i do believe that i have an interesting vintage point because ive been in this fandom since the show premiered so some people might not be #even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo #i don't like the formatting of asks when you reblog them so im making this a separate text post

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thisisourlovestory · 10 months ago

Text

Everything Has Changed

part 1- the chronicles of a stargirl and her sun masterlist

Luke Castellan x reader

Summary- you travel to camp and end up meeting a certain someone for a brief moment but it's enough.

Word count- 5k

Notes- my first Luke fanfic! It's going to be a series of sorts with each part based vaguely off a different Taylor Swift song. I was not planning on it being this long, I thought it'd be max 3k but no the gods of creativity struck. Thanks to @imaginingmoonlight for the beautiful vibe up top and also to @fangirlfreak08 for helping me choose the song. I love you both mwah

“Run!” A voice yelled from behind you, a hand placed on your back to push you forwards even as your legs started to give out beneath you. Rain poured down around you, soaking through your clothes and making the muddy ground harder to run on. Your hair fell in a limp curtain around your face, raindrops catching on your lashes and obscuring your vision. The sun had set and you had only the pale light of the moon to guide you up the hill and towards the pine tree at the top of it. A roar echoed from in the trees and you whipped your head around in a panic. The trees were falling, hitting the ground hard, the thundering noises rippling through the air. That was your mistake. Within a second you tripped on a tree root protruding from the soil, tumbling to the sodden grass, scraping your knees on the rocks hidden underneath moss. Then you heard the roars again. Closer this time. The trees continued falling, crashing down with louds boom, and with them fell your hopes of survival. your scrambled to your feet and started to run. But they were faster. So much faster. The loud thudding as they lumbered after us made your heart race. You looked to the side to see Ash limping beside you, his hooves sinking into the hillside and a gash on his leg leaking blood. He was pulling along Maisie, her green eyes wide with fear as her little legs struggled to keep up with him. you stopped in your tracks. Ash turned to you quickly.

“What are you doing? We have to run.” You shook your head, shoulders slumping as you whispered.

“We won't make it,” You gestured to the falling trees, the monsters coming closer with each second, ”Go Ash, you'll be fine.” Your voice was small and unsure, barely a whisper but you smiled and looked him in the eye. “You'll be fine. Get her to safety.” He opened his mouth to speak but the last tree snapped and they stood there, waiting.

There were more than you had thought there was. Or maybe they had just collected some more along the way you thought. They stood tall, ugly hulking builds covered with thin scraps of cloth, they locked on you and sped up, practically leaping closer. You pushed Ash forward and he started running again, looking back at you for a moment and you smiled at him before you ran sideways. They took the bait and chased after you, swinging clubs in the air and slamming them down so the ground shook. you dodged their blows that they rained down on you, darting over tree stumps lining the hillside. Your breath came fast and heavy, blood rushing in your ears, heart feeling as if it would burst out of your chest as you ran. Legs taking long strides like a gazelle, flying over the earthen ground.

Suddenly a club whizzed down past your ear and you let out a cry, slipping and tumbling to the ground. They surrounded you as you stumbled back up, slipping your hand into your pocket to grab your pocket knife.

“Well, well, well if it isn't a little demigod.” One of them sneered, their big round eye focused on you. “Unlucky for you we're hungry.” Your eyes flicked around taking note of the monsters, a few cyclops, some weird giant things that were just as disgusting but had two eyes, and a hellhound. All looking to eat you. One of the cyclops reached out to you eagerly. your slashed down on its wrist, drawing golden blood and it let out a howl of pain. Its face contorted and for a moment the rest of them took their gaze off you to focus on their injured friend. You took your chance and jumped to your feet, shooting into the woods. Branches scraped your skin and dirt stuck to your clothes, your felt warm blood dripping from a cut on your forehead and wiped it away with the palm of your hand. A large hand gripped onto your shoulder and lifted you into the air, dangling you like a ragdoll, shaking you viciously and sneering in your face. A sharp blade plunged into their arm and they disintegrated into dust, leaving the rest to gape at you first in shock then anger as they resumed the chase through the undergrowth. Lightning split through the air and thunder rumbled as you ran, it seemed never ending. Were you to be stuck in this circle until they finally caught you and ended your life?

One by one the monsters lunged at you, and one by one you swung your blade and they became dust. They apparently didn't learn that the knife was bad for them and they should avoid it. Eventually there was only one left but you were tired. So, so tired. You had been running for what felt like days and you wanted to give up. Your footsteps slowed down and came to a stop. In a flash the last cyclops standing snatched you up and began gloating. You tuned it out. Eyes barely staying open and brain fuzzy. You were bruised all over and your body was weeping red. This wasn't important anymore. It was done, your death warrant signed. You were done.

All of a sudden you were dropping to the floor, landing on your back and gazing up at the sky full of stars, your vision darkened blotting out the moon. A face appeared above you. Dark brown eyes and curly hair barely distinguishable in the dark, but the light grew. Closer and closer, brighter and brighter.

“-Hear me.” You made out as the buzzing in your ears grew louder. You turned your head to the side and reached out a hand to grab your knife laying just inches away. The cool metal was a comforting presence. In that moment you clasped it in your grip and looked up into the eyes above, a small smile on your face as you drifted into darkness, the boy's lips moving, yelling things you couldn’t hear.

You wake up with a start, laying on the floor, head resting on a mossy log. You pull yourself off the ground, looking around quickly. You stood in a clearing, bright green grass dotted with flowers of every colour, tall trees lining the outside, separating it from the dark forest beyond. Water rushes behind you, clear blue falling and gathering in a pool surrounded by rocks. You climb up and stare down at your reflection, a look of confusion paints itself on your face. You're wearing a cream dress with flowers intricately woven into the fabric and somehow the same flowers are twined into your hair, almost as if they were a crown. You reach down into the water as if to check it was really you and it ripples out from where your finger touched, the reflection changed to the hillside.

You hear the monsters again. They chase after you, teeth bared, eyes glowing red as they taunt you.

“You couldn't save them.”

“We ate them both.”

“The girl was especially tasty.”

You scream and they surround you. There is no end to the torment as the wind bites your skin and rain soothes the burn. They do not stop. Their growling voices stamped into memory as their claws start to tear into your skin. You scream and shout, arms waving around but this time there is no knife to help you. Blood gushes out of your body in waterfalls, staining the grass and mixing with muddy puddles that start to form. The pain starts to fade as you let go and a figure hovers over you.

Your eyes blink open, vision blurry and body aching. You turn your head and the boy is standing next to you.

“Go back to sleep.” He says. “You're safe.” You listen and slip back into dreamland.

This time you're at home. Your bedroom is cluttered with clothes and school supplies. Not a single part of the floor is visible. It's dark outside, snow falling, flakes spinning in the gentle breeze. You remember this night, the night you found out the truth. But nothing changed, you continued to live normally. Until now that is. You creep down the stairs and hear voices. Your parents, arguing over you. Their words are indistinguishable, muffled by a buzzing sound that covers your ears almost like a blanket. You sit halfway down on the steps, the wooden panels cold to touch as you tap your fingers on them. Your mum appears at the bottom of the steps and smiles, her brown hair tied loosely in a ponytail. She was at work all day and her eyes are tired but she holds her arms out.

“C'mere.” She says simply and you crash into her as she strokes your hair, whispering softly and planting gentle kisses on your hair. Soon your dad joins the hug, his large body smelling of chocolate and cinnamon as he encases you and your mum. You feel safe like this. As if nothing could ever hurt you and you sit on the couch in between them laughing at the TV as you sip on hot chocolate-your dads specialty-topped with whipped cream and marshmallows that melt into a gooey mess in the mug. And in that moment all is right in the world. But the universe is cruel and wicked and loves us just that little bit too much that it can never let something else have that which is theirs. Because that, that is the exact moment when you wake up.

Your eyes opened slowly and you stared up, nests perched on the wooden beams across the roof home to tiny baby birds that chirped demandingly for their parents to feed them. You groaned and sat up, the covers slipping off the bed, exposing your bare legs to the cold air that swept through the room. You shivered, pulling on the orange top with black lettering and a pegasus on the front that was definitely not yours and was way too big so it hung loosely on your body, a pair of black leggings-the only thing that fit right-and a hoodie next to your bed, again not yours, in fact the hoodie was so big on you that you had to roll the sleeves up three times, on the upside it was incredibly comfortable and it smelled nice, like freshly picked mint and lemon. Your clothes had been pretty ruined, you thought, it was nice of them to give you some new ones. You tugged on your pair of trainers that had been laid on the floor, the only things that belonged to you. No longer pure white, instead pretty much black. Standing up unsteadily you breathed deeply, fighting off the feeling of nausea and grabbed the glass of water on the side table, downing it in one, gasping at the coldness as it slid down your throat. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked horrible, pale with dark circles under your eyes accentuated by the shadow of a bruise on your cheekbone and a plaster stuck to your forehead. Your arms were covered in tiny scratches and plasters that had little pink hearts drawn on them with a shaky hand.

You walked over to the door and opened it, carefully stepping out and closing it behind you. You turned and took in the sight in front of you. It was a summer camp, kids roaming about in bright orange shirts, all laughing and joking together. Not one of them noticed you. You made your way to a conservatory type place and stopped dead in your tracks as you noticed a man sitting in a chair, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping, greying hair and beard looking as if he had been electrified. And he was wearing a leopard print shirt, bold choice but okay.

However he wasn't what stopped you. Not at all. That would have been the centaur, standing there dealing cards to the other man and Ash. Your eyes widened, that was an actual centaur, he was literally half horse, like in the myths. A quiet snort of disbelief escaped your lips, a hand flying to cover the noise. Ash turned around and saw you standing there like a bloody lemon. He stood up hastily, his hooves, his bloody hooves, clicking against the stones.

“You're awake.” He patted the chair next to him and you sat down hesitantly.

“What's going on here exactly? Is Maisie safe? What is this place?”

The centaur sent a stern look to Ash.

“You didn't tell her.” Ash smiled weakly.

“I didn't have much of a chance to. What with all the cyclops, hellhounds and gods knows what else that were on our tail.” The centaur sighed deeply, his bushy grey eyebrows drawing closer together as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No matter. I suppose I will just have to do the explaining now.” He smiled at me. “Welcome to Camp-Half Blood.” You nodded slightly and Ash caught the look of confusion that crossed your face. He pointed to the centaur and then the man.

“Chiron, activities director. Mr D camp director.” Chiron bowed his head slightly in greeting while the other guy sipped on a can of diet coke.

“Hi,” You muttered, “But I was serious, who's going to tell me what's going on here, and is Maisie okay? And when you say Chiron do you mean Chiron or Chiron?” You questioned, looking around, Chiron opened his mouth but Ash beat him to it.

“Maisie is fine. She's settled in pretty well here, everyone loves her so don't worry about her. I do mean Chiron Chiron, as in immortal trainer of heroes. As for the other question, that might take a bit longer to explain but I'll give it a shot.” Ash always was the confident one you thought as he stood up and went over to Chiron, always better than you in these types of situations. Ash clapped his hands together and took a deep breath before allowing everything to spill out in a jumble.

“So you know how you could see those monsters and they wanted to kill you?” You shivered and nodded. “Well the reason you could see them is because you're a half-blood. Half god half human, also known as demigods.”

“God? As in the Bible, Christianity and the Garden of Eden. That God.”

“Not quite.” Chiron answered. “Not God, the gods, the Ancient Greek Gods, the Olympians if you will, and one of them is your mother or father.” You stared at him blankly.

“What? But they aren't real, they were just stories.” The diet coke man sat up with a jolt and eyed me.

“The gods are very real and this one is trying to sleep.” You gaped at him, eyebrows furrowed as your mind worked.

“Mr D,” You muttered, “You're Dionysus, the god of wine and madness. And you're just here. At a summer camp?” The man grumbled under his breath.

“This is where chasing after one of dear old dads nymphs lands you. Looking after a bunch of teenage half-wit half-bloods. As if not being able to drink properly wasn't enough.” He lamented. You frowned and were about to ask before Chiron beat you to it.

“Lord Dionysus has been forbidden by his father, Lord Zeus, to consume alcohol as a punishment. His presence here is also part of the punishment. He must be camp director for 100 years before the ban is lifted and he can return to Olympus full time.” You nodded, not quite understanding but choosing to leave the subject at hand.

“So I'm a half-blood?” Ash shoved a metal can in his face and nodded.

“Yep, you wouldn't have been able to get past the boundary line if you weren't one, you wouldn't have been able to see the monsters and they definitely wouldn't have been trying to eat you.”

“How do they know?” You asked softly.

“Know…”

“How do they recognise half-bloods?” He shrugged.

“There have been lots of theories but the one that has been proven is that demigods have a certain smell, it's kinda in their blood. Obviously mixed in with the human there's a bit of godly ichor, only the tiniest of bits but it's enough, and when that kind of blood mixes with the human blood in demigods bodies from the mortal side, it creates a smell that only monsters can notice.”

“So like a chemical reaction.” You said quietly to yourself. Somehow the others all heard, Chiron chuckled and Mr D sent you a look of disdain while Ash contemplated the thought.

“That's not a bad way to describe it actually, I'll have to use that next time. But back to the monsters. Naturally they can smell demigods from miles away so they have a better shot at killing them and they always follow the smell because they know that at the other end of it is usually a snack for them, if not two. Of course some kids smell stronger, usually those ones are more powerful, so more monsters will go after them. And usually those kids die pretty quickly unless a satyr brings them here.” You glance down at Ashs hooves.

“You're a satyr.”

“Yes I am.”

“And your job was to get Maisie and I here.”

“It was. I'm your protector, my job was to watch you and see if you were a demigod then when I was sure I had to bring you here. I found Maisie as well by sheer luck, she probably wouldn't have lived much longer out there.” He picked up another can and bit into it.

“What do you mean?”

“Most monsters.” He started with his mouth full and you made a disgusted look. He grinned sheepishly then swallowed, “Sorry. Most monsters only start to really go after demigods when they're about the 5th or 6th grade. That's when the weird stuff starts to happen as they start to get more powerful.” I opened my mouth. “Before you ask no, I don't know why you've managed to last this long. There's only a few demigods who make it to your age without being found but they're typically the children of minor gods whereas you are definitely not.” You blinked.

“I'm half god, I'm constantly going to be running and trying to not die and you bring me to a summer camp.” You started, voice growing slightly louder with each point.

“When you say it like that it does sound a bit stupid.” Ash mumbled as Chiron clopped over and placed a hand on your back.

“Come child, take a walk with me.” You followed him out the doors, turning back to see Ash giving you an awkward smile and a thumbs up.

“Ash, get me another diet coke.” Mr D demanded and Ash jumped up, scuttling out of the room with the old can in his hand.

Soon enough you were out of sight, walking slowly through the camp.

“The life of a half-blood is never easy.” Chiron began. ”That is what this camp is for. It is a safe haven where you can live peacefully and make friends. We train you so that whenever you do go back into the mortal world you can protect yourself from monsters if they should choose to come after you. I have seen many a half-blood pass through here and each one has emerged with skills that help them survive. You may leave if you wish but you will always be welcome here.”

“What if I fail? What if I get someone killed? I almost got Maisie killed. ” Chiron smiled pityingly.

“You may fail over and over but you can only get better with time. The greatest heroes in the past never got it on the first try. They had to practise hard to get to the top, to be remembered. And so will you. You fought bravely out there, you have great potential to be a formidable hero and make your godly parent proud.” You stared at him.

“How will I know which god or goddess my parent is?” Chiron chuckled.

“They will send a sign and claim you if they wish.”

“You mean they might not even want me?”

“No but the gods are busy and they do not always have the time to claim all of their children.” His tail swished behind him and he led you over to a small girl, her long braids tied back in a ponytail. “This is Annabeth Chase. She will show you around and help you adjust, she was one of the campers who found you in the forest.” Annabeth scrutinised you, her large brown eyes locked on the way you twisted your fingers nervously. “She is one of our year round campers and has been here for almost a year now. I think despite her young age and apparent lack of experience you’ll find her very capable indeed.” With that he trotted away leaving you alone with Annabeth who merely remained staring at you. And more closely at the clothes you were wearing. You shifted uncomfortably at her unwavering gaze.

“So, Annabeth,” You began awkwardly, voice as quiet as possible, “Who’s your godly um relation?” She regarded you silently before sighing.

“My mother is Athena, goddess of wisdom. And I don't have to be a child of Athena to tell that you are very confused.”

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, she levelled a look at you that read really.

“Yes it is that obvious. Walk with me. I'll explain everything about camp that Chiron didn't.” She set off towards a lake, leaving you to trail behind her.

“You know we're demigods, half mortal half god, yes?” She nodded and continued. “And you know about monsters and all that? So you know when they're ready your mum or dad will claim you?” At your nod she continued. “While you're unclaimed you'll live in the Hermes cabin which I will show you later. It'll be our last stop so you can get settled in immediately and Chiron already had your stuff taken over so that'll be waiting.” She stopped in her tracks as we got to the beach. “This is the canoe lake. Watch out for the nymphs, they can get a bit violent sometimes but only if you do something stupid to provoke them.” She pointed to a wall dripping orange in the distance. “That's the climbing wall, the lava is an incentive to actually climb and not fall. But you'd be surprised at the amount of people who still end up getting sent to the infirmary to be treated for burns by the Apollo kids. Some of their stupidity astounds me, then again it is only ever the boys so maybe it's just that boys are stupid.” You smiled slightly at her logic, while not entirely true it showed a tiny crack in her otherwise unflappable exterior. She shook her head as if in disbelief of her own words. “Anyway, the amphitheatre is over there.” She gestured to a mass of stone and turned around, marching back up the sandy path. You both walked for about half an hour until she stopped. “Over there are the strawberry fields, that's what our cover is. Delphi Strawberries.” She grinned. “Can't have people knowing this is really a place where kids learn to kill stuff. Besides they can't see through the barrier so even if we did tell them the truth they'd just think we were lying.” Your face spoke for itself, yet another thing you didn't understand. “I'll explain another time.” She pointed to a huge stone structure that reminded you a little of the Colosseum, then two other much smaller shacks. “That's the arena, when you've learnt how, you can practise fighting with weapons there, that's the forge where the Hephaestus kids make the aforementioned weapons. Of course anyone can use it but they can get a bit territorial. And that there is the armoury where we store all the weapons and armour. We’ll probably take you there tomorrow and if not then it'll be sometime this week at least.”

“We?” You asked and she blinked.

“My brother and I. He's good with weapons so he’ll be able to help you find one that suits you. Better than I would be able to at least.” You nodded in understanding, looking up at the darkening sky and then the watch on your wrist, the strap barely held together. Annabeth followed your gaze. “It's getting pretty late. We've probably missed dinner but there'll be plenty of leftovers for us to just grab quickly from the Big House. But we should hurry up just in case.” She turned on her heel and started sprinting along the grass. You followed hurriedly, ignoring the pain that shot through your legs with every footstep. As you ran you looked around camp. Illuminated in the glow of the setting sun it was beautiful, the greenest grass you had ever seen and deep woodlands rich with vibrant wildlife. The strawberry fields seemed to be rolling and endless across the hills, pink dots seeming to engulf the green. Annabeth halted in front of the huge farmhouse you had come from earlier and brushed the dirt off her cargo pants and the same orange shirt as you before entering.

You both made your way to the conservatory area and as soon as Annabeth entered she piled up a plate with food. You followed suit, grabbing a few slices of pizza, some chips, cucumber and a chocolate cupcake. Your eyes followed Annabeth as she walked up to a bronze brazier and flicked in some food, Bowing her head and muttering something under her breath. She looked at you and tipped her head.

“Your turn. You just scoop in some food and say a quick prayer.” You raised an eyebrow and she sighed. “I'll…”

“Explain later, I know, I know.” You dropped a slice of pizza into the flame and mumbled.

“Whoever you are, accept this delicious slice of pizza and just yeah.” You finished lamely and stepped back, immediately biting into the pizza and marvelling at the taste. “No wonder they like burnt pizza, this pizza would be good even if it was charcoal.”

Chiron walked into the room unexpectedly.

“Ah, there you both are. I was wondering when I'd see you again. I trust Annabeth has given you a good enough tour.”

“She did.” You said in affirmation.

“Good. Well your belongings are all in the Hermes cabin waiting for you so off you go. And leave the rest of the pizza here. I haven't had it in months and I've missed it.” Annabeth dragged you out the door as you pulled down the sleeves of your new hoodie so they dangled down. She released your arm once you were outside and began to walk just across the path to a clearing full of cabins. You were startled as a blur collided with you, screeching with excitement. Maisie.

“You're alive!” She practically screamed in your ear and you laughed quietly.

“I am but if you keep being this loud I might not be for long.”

“I missed you. But I've made some new friends as well. Like Annabeth, we play hide and seek together and it's really fun!” You tapped her on the nose and crouched to look at her properly.

“Really now? What else has happened while I've been gone?” Maisie puffed out her chest proudly.

“I got claimed. By Dem-Dem-” She cut off unsurely.

“Demeter?” She nodded furiously.

“Yes! And big sister Rosie is teaching me to control plants.” She said the last part in a whisper. “I've got superpowers and it's awesome.” You smiled gently

“I'm sure it is and I can't wait to talk to you again Maisie but right now Annabeth and I are a bit busy.” You gave an exaggerated yawn and looked at your watch. “It is so late. Way past your bedtime missy so off you pop.” Maisie grinned toothily, planted a kiss on your cheek and sprinted off back to a cabin with a rooftop of grass. You looked over at Annabeth to see her smiling fondly before she shook herself out of it and stopped you in front of a different cabin.

“This is me. Cabin six.” She stepped into the doorway. “ Cabin eleven is over there.” She pointed across the clearing. “Since it's spring there's only two or three people staying there at the moment so you'll be able to grab a bed.” She hesitated for a second before giving you the briefest of hugs. “I think we’ll be good friends. You seem nice and Maisie has been singing your praises.” She flashed her white teeth at you in a small smile. “Night.” With that she disappeared from sight and you dawdled across the clearing, taking your time to get to the cabin and standing outside it for a good ten minutes.

Eventually you plucked up the courage and walked in. Immediately tripping on a loose floorboard and falling towards the floor, arms outstretched in front of you to try and break the fall when you hit the ground, bracing yourself for impact. But it never came.

Instead you felt a pair of warm hands wrapped around your waist, stopping you from falling. Pulling you away from the floor and turning you around as you tried to right your bearings.

“Hello.” A voice spoke, sounding amused.

Thank you.” You stammered, still slightly shocked as you stared down at the floor and shuffled your feet.

“Nothing to thank me for, I wasn't about to just let you faceplant. Funny as it might've been.” The person responded smoothly. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” You muttered, “Just a little embarrassed is all.” The boy laughed and you finally looked up. Your breath caught in your throat. It was the boy from that night. His curly hair messy and warm brown eyes sparkling as a small grin pulled at his lips.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He responded. “You must be Y/N. I'm Luke. Luke Castellan, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

All I know is we said, "Hello" Your eyes look like comin' home All I know is a simple name And everything has changed

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #annabeth chase #young annabeth being cute #but I might be biased #taylor swift lyrics #luke castellan imagine #pjo tv show #pjotv x reader #pjo x reader

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southfarthing · 2 years ago

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Eowyn tells Faramir it isn't necessary to write all of Rohan's songs and legends in a book lest they be forgotten. The Rohirrim do not read and write: they are oral storytellers, and they have great respect for their minstrels and their history. They will not forget anything.

She says it to reassure him and save him the trouble, but it does not seem to soothe his mind.

He smiles quickly at her before turning to the window. He looks out at the hills of Emyn Arnen as though watching for a storm on the horizon, and then Eowyn understands.

She grasps his hand.

At his touch, an image rushes through her mind: a grey, mutinous sea; and among the froth and the fury – sodden books, orphaned heirlooms, and a tapestry that will never again be seen or re-made, with both story and skill lost to the devouring waters.

The water washes over them both before slowly receding, leaving only a mist that she blinks away, and the distant glint of the Anduin to the west as it flows down to the Sea.

'Have I ever told you of Eorl the Young?' she says. Her voice is rough; she clears her throat.

'We know much about Eorl in Gondor,' Faramir says softly. 'His friendship with Cirion and his aid in our time of need was great.'

'And what about after?' she asks. 'What does Gondor know about that?'

Faramir turns to her with a wry smile. 'Very little.'

'Would that you had someone to teach you a little history.'

The mirth in Faramir's eyes mirrors her own.

'Would that I did.'

#AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY SAD NUMENOR MAN #this was meant to be a text post idk what happened #faramir #eowyn #farawyn #tolkien #lotr #my fic #oneringnet #lotr: fic #*lotr #lord of the rings #lotr fic

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astaldis · 11 months ago

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Inferno - Fire and Doom

@whumpers-monthly

@whumpcember

@hurtcember

#whumpers-monthly #issue no 23 #inferno #the witcher netflix #the witcher season 1 #poem #fan poem #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #cahir #sodden hill #eamon farren #whumpcember2023 #whumpcember day 17 #fire #hurtcember 2023 #depressed

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mamabearcatfanart · 1 year ago

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"Inuyasha, I'm cold."

"I'm not fuckin' surprised", he snarled, trying to move her closer to his body. Any closer and she'd actually be sitting in his lap, which normally he'd be feeling some mighty strong feelings about, but right now his strong feelings weren't the happy kind. He'd already removed her sodden shoes and socks, but before she could get changed into some drier clothes they needed the fire going.

Shippo and Kirara were doing their best with damp kindling and an even damper cave, while Sango sorted through Kagome's backpack for dry clothes and medical supplies. Thankfully, no one else had been injured during their battle against the boar youkai.

Just Kagome.

For once, Miroku was keeping his trap shut, understanding that now was not the time for teasing. After one glare from Inuyasha as he had pulled the shivering Kagome close to his body, he had busied himself by walking further down into the cave to make sure it contained no more unwanted surprises with pointed teeth and a large appetite for shikon shards. Thank goodness for small mercies.

"You're angry at me, aren't you", Kagome whispered. It didn't sound like a question.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he muttered, rubbing her back gently as she shivered against him.

"Oh, I don't know. The growling maybe. Your shoulders feel like rocks you're so tense."

Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

"I'm not angry at you, I'm angry near you. There's a difference."

"It doesn't feel like a difference", she said in a small voice. "Why won't look at me?"

Inuyasha pointedly kept his face turned aside and she sighed, tugging on his sleeve.

"Hey. I didn't know that bit of hill was going to give way."

That earned another growl. He almost looked at her, then turned his face away again.

"Why do you think I put you and Shippou over near the trees Kagome! You're the one who's meant to be smart with all that reading you do. Even you should have been able to tell it was unstable with all this rain!"

She tugged on his sleeve again.

"I couldn't get a good shot from where I was, so I moved to a better spot. And I took him out too! Before I fell I mean. But I helped! And we got another shikon shard!"

"For fuck's sake Kagome, you could of been really hurt!"

"But I wasn't."

"You've taken half the skin off your face! And your leg and your arm!"

"It'll grow back. Sango'll help bandage it up and it'll be good as new in a week or two - you won't even be able to tell it was there at all. And because I ended up in the river, it's washed all the dirt away, see? I'm just a bit cold, but I'll warm up. Inuyasha? Please? I don't know why you're so upset."

He growled again; she could see him biting the inside of his cheek as he stared out into the heavy rain outside the cave.

"Inuyasha, look at me. Please?"

Grudgingly he turned his head. She could see the concern in his eyes, the worry, the self blame, even though none of her injuries were remotely his fault. She tried to smile, but had another attack of the shivers.

He sighed, rubbing her back again. He tucked a long dripping lock of her hair behind her ear.

"You look like a sad wet cat."

"I kinda feel like one", she smiled, and then hissed, because smiling actually hurt quite a lot right now.

"A sad wet stupid cat with mush for brains", he sighed again, using his palm to turn her head gently so her uninjured cheek rested on his chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Help keep me warm?" she shivered, wrapping her cold arms tight around his chest.

He rested his cheek on the top of her head, and she smiled, even though it hurt, and then giggled. She could feel his grumbles rumbling against her body as he pressed her even tighter against him.

"I guess I can do that. But you're grounded."

"What? How do you even know what that means?"

"I know plenty. And you're grounded. No more stupid heroics from you, or I'm taking away your keeping warm privileges."

"You wouldn't!"

"Watch me."

#inuvember #inukag fanart #inukag ficlet #mamabearcat fanart #inukag

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blood-inthefields · 4 months ago

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Summary of all my Yennefer/Tissaia fanfics so far...

♠ All we are (is dust in the wind) ¬ It takes four days for Tissaia to find Yennefer after the battle of Sodden.

♠ Pynk (is where it all starts) ¬ In which hot-shot lawyer Tissaia de Vries unknowingly walks into a strip-club and finds herself hypnotized by one of the dancers there. Not how she’d planned her evening to go.

♠ Get naked (i got a plan) ¬ The phone rang, drawing her attention. With a sigh, she picked it up. “Phil, is that you?” Distorted by the line, a muffled voice answered her. “Johnny got clipped.” Tissaia’s hand balled into a fist. “You know what to do,” she replied curtly. The line went dead. She hung up, ran a hand through her hair. A bath would do her good. And then she would go find Yennefer.

1920s AU.

♠ I’m your sinner (and your whore) ft. JZXR7 ¬ Due to circumstances entirely beyond Tissaia’s control (Yennefer. Due to Yennefer), she’s found herself trapped in her bedroom with a human whirlwind during a minor pandemic.

She has decided, in all her collected wisdom as Rectoress, that the girl has ten minutes to stop talking before Tissaia takes drastic measures.

♠ Want you, yes i do (bet you never knew it) ¬ The first time that Yennefer considers throwing Tissaia on a bed is in Rinde.

♠ I’ll be loving you (til the end of the night) ¬ Tissaia comes home after a hard day at work to find that her girlfriend has a couple of surprises in store.

♠ The one where Tissaia is a freestyle dance teacher ¬ “It’s Tissaia,” Triss told her, concern evident in her voice.

“What’s with her?”

Now closer to the window, Yennefer leaned forwards and watched as her former mentor, way down below, was shaking her arms and upper body in very strange ways. Had the woman finally lost it?

♠ I will let you down (i will make you hurt) ¬ She feels the blade against her throat before she’s even done with her sentence. Tissaia remains calm, despite the cold metal piercing the skin ever so lightly. Something warm runs down her pale skin and she knows it’s blood. Still, her eyes never leave Yennefer’s.

“Why,” Yennefer begins, almost shouting, as she stalks forward until she’s all up in Tissaia’s face. “Why did you let them send me to Nilfgaard?”

♠ My immoral ft. thinkbucket ¬ What’s up preps, I’m Yennefer Fireball Darkness Purple Mist Vengerberg and I’m a teacher at Aretuza.

or, a parody of legendary fanfiction My Immortal.

♠ Didn’t wanna believe it (but now you are all I see) ¬ It’s on their third date that everything goes to shit. In hindsight Tissaia should have known crushing hard on the whirlwind that is Yennefer would mean her life would be turned upside down. However, she had never imagined it would land her in jail.

♠ And now the surface ripples¬ She’s been scouring the Continent, desperate for a cure for her barrenness when word reaches her.

Tissaia de Vries is dead.

♠Find my place (in the warmth of your embrace)¬ A look at some entries of Tissaia’s diaries about her ever-evolving relationship with Yennefer.

♠ Stay a while (and be mine) ¬ Post Sodden Hill, Yennefer and Tissaia are back at Aretuza. One night changes their relationship forever.

♠ After hours ¬ Could the torture be any worse? Yennefer wondered. It was bad enough to have to spend entire days with Tissaia stuck in a classroom together with noisy, dirty children but being around her after the day was over and the children and other teachers had left was pure torture.

♠ Wanna kiss you (til I lose my breath)¬ The woman is not just a powerful sorceress, she’s an absolute witch and Yennefer tries to hide but it feels pointless. One look from Tissaia and she becomes an open book.

♠ I will reach for you (when you’re feeling low) ¬ Set in 2.03 after Yennefer shows up at Aretuza and gives Tissaia a gay heart attack.

They know, they all know what Yennefer means to her, how long she’s spent trying to find her.

♠ I used to float (now I just fall down) ¬ Post 3.08. Petals descending from the ceiling. Yennefer knew right away it was Tissaia, from way above up in her study, honoring her fallen girls. She looked at them, admired how they fell silently to cover the freshly dug graves.

Then the pain came.

Sharp, burning, unexpected.

Yennefer gasped.

♠ For neither ever nor never (goodbye) ¬ Missing scene from 3.08. Drabble.

♠ This is a glove story ¬ Tissaia receives a gift.

♠ If you wanna go (then I'll be so lonely) ¬ When she finds Tissaia on the floor surrounded by her own blood, Yennefer’s first instinct is to run to her, so she does. Her knees sink to the floor and she wails, cradling Tissaia’s body, hovering over her as if to shield her from harm. But the harm is done, and Tissaia’s the culprit, and Yennefer curses her name.

♠ Sinking fangs (into pumpkin delights) ¬ It is Halloween and Tissaia's been invited to a party where she meets a bewitching stranger… one that could potentially bite her, if asked nicely.

♠ Somewhere in the darnkess (us together for a while) ¬

“You’re playing with fire, Yennefer,” Tissaia warned, a hint of regret in her voice.

The younger mage closed the small gap between them, gently but firmly grabbing Tissaia’s hands with hers.

“Maybe I've always been drawn to the flames,” she replied, her eyes never leaving Tissaia’s.

♠ Do not stand by my grave and weep (I am not there, I do not sleep) ¬

“What did she mean to her,” Ciri bluntly asks after a while. The question’s escaped her but now she can’t take it back. She wishes she could when Geralt remains quiet and a slight frown appears on his face. He doesn’t know, she realizes. Or he does not want to tell her.

And that, in itself, is the beginning of an answer.

♠ Oh, my lover (you made me feel like no other) ¬ Freshly divorced, British architect Tissaia de Vries embarks on a journey to Italy where she finds herself caught in a whirlwind romance with a beautiful and enigmatic young gondolier.

#Yennaia #Tissaia de Vries #Yennefer of Vengerberg #The Witcher #Yennefer x Tissaia #Fanfic #Mine #feel free to reblog

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