#a fireplace that is both traditional and plaster
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Seattle Home Bar Family Room
#Inspiration for a large#open-concept#contemporary family room remodel with beige walls#a fireplace that is both traditional and plaster#a bar#and a hidden television mid century decor#home bar#seattle design center#bookcases#kevin kurbs#family room
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Enclosed in Portland
#Inspiration for a mid-sized#enclosed#traditional living room remodel with white walls#a standard fireplace#a plaster fireplace#and laminate flooring that is both brown and brown. living room#laminate custom#laminate floor#wood laminate floors#custom flooring
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Granada Place
(CC List + Links)
World Map: Oasis Springs
Area: Skyward Palms
Lot Size: 30 x 20
(4 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms)
Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish
Packs Used
Expansion Packs
Cats & Dogs
City Living
Cottage Living
Discover University
For Rent
Get Famous
Get Together
Growing Together
High School Years
Horse Ranch
Seasons
Snowy Escape
Game Packs
Dream Home Decorator
Jungle Adventures
Spa Day
Kits
Desert Luxe
Build Mode
Felixandre
Chateau Pt. 1
Chateau Pt. 2
Florence Pt. 1 (Armchair, Bouquet, Fresco Mural)
Harlix
Baysic Bathroom (Floor Tiles, Modern Wipe, Trash can)
Harrie
Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Arch Medium, Traditional Door Medium)
Klean Pt. 3 (Painted Wall w Wooden Skirting, Painted Plaster Walls)
Lili’s Palace
Folklore (Skanzen Big Barn Door - 1)
Sooky88
English Country Wall Set – Wallpaper with Subway Tiles
Scandinavian Wall Set – Wallpapers with Tiles
Buy Mode
CharlyPancakes
Lavish
The Lighthouse Collection
Precious Promises (Lustre Small)
Telly
Felixandre
Chateau Pt. 3
Chateau Pt. 4
Chateau Pt. 5 (All decorative items)
Chateau Pt. 7 (drawer, silk rug)
Colonial Pt. 2 (Potted Palm Tree)
Grove Pt. 1 (Potted Olive Tree)
Grove Pt. 4 (Potted Lemon Tree)
Harlix
Baysic (Double Beeding w Blanket, Packs Clothing)
Livin’ Rum (Coffee Table Tray, Phone and Keys)
Orjanic Pt. 2
Harrie
Coastal Pt. 5 (Foot Stool, Rug)
Coastal Pt. 6
Coastal Pt. 7 (Double Bedframe, Full Length Mirror, Lamp, Wool Rug)
Coastal Pt. 8 (Coffee Pouffe Table, Ottoman, Roman Blinds – 2 Tile)
Country (Ottoman)
Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switches)
Myshunosun
Lottie (Throw Blanket)
Macaron Kitchen (Bar Stool)
Gale Dining (Wine Bottle, Wine Glass)
Peacemaker
Elsie Bedroom (Upholstered Chair)
Gwendoline Sofa
Hampton Retreat (Seaside Prints)
Vara Office (Desktop PC)
Pierisim
Domaine Du Clos Pt. 2 (Armchair, Fireplace)
Domaine Du Clos Pt. 3 (Nightstand, Wall Lamp Left & Right)
MCM Pt. 3 (Narrow Rug Long)
Oak House Pt. 4 (Accent Table, Folded Towels, Moisture Cream, Shampoo, Shower Gel)
Oak House Double Bedding
Oak House Double Bedframe
Oak House Pt. 6.2 (Narrow Leather Shelf)
Vera Bathroom (Bathrobe, Mounted Hook, Mounted Towel Holder, Soap, Toilet Kit)
Woodland Ranch (Both Double Bedframes, Nightstands, Old Rug, Wardrobe Small)
Woodland Ranch Pt. 3 (Lamps, Paintings, Wooden End Table)
Pyszny
Oak & Concrete (Magazines)
Ravasheen
Clothes Minded
Motivational Speaker
Severinka
Industrial Light II – Ceiling Lamp A
Simplistic
RusticLife Rug
Sundays
Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow Solids)
Sumba Pt. 1 (Pillow Set I)
Yarra Pt. 3 (Bed Pillows)
TaurusDesign
Eliza Walk in Closet
DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.
DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.
DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.
Tray Files: DOWNLOAD
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Vitae et Mortem: Implexis
It was a gloomy day, perfect weather according to The Curator to enact his plans for his beloved Bookkeep.
<full fic under the cut>
[@valentinesparda here we go!!!]
He had been thinking about this since last November, but not sure if he wanted to go through with this; despite knowing the answer he would receive. He had taken the year to pick out the perfect ring, the perfect box for Vitae, the perfect moment to finally go through the motions. This is so frivolous, he thought as he walked the halls of the repository, thumbing the dark blue velvet box he had concealed behind his back, humans have such strange ways of showing affection.
His thoughts were interrupted by the beautiful sound of strings of a violin being played. He chuckled, immediately recognizing the song as Humoresque Op. 101 No. 7 by Dvořák that the two would play together if no guests had arrived. It was perfect, but then again, what about his partner wasn’t perfect to him?
The Curator walked into the library fiddling with the box, his eyes immediately went to his beloved who stood playing in front of the fireplace. Their body swaying to and fro with the music, eyes shut as always. He stood there, enjoying the music until it came to a graceful end. Vitae opened their eyes as they brought their violin and bow down, smiling brightly seeing the Curator before them.
“Enjoying your own personal concert, Mortem?”
He smiles, stepping forward, “As always Vitae.”
They shook their head, giving him another teasing grin before putting their instrument away. “Have any guests arrived yet?”
“No. In fact, I closed up the repository for a time so we can spend some quality time together. That is, if you do not mind.”
“I do not mind at all my love. Any sort of occasion?”
This was it, the perfect moment. He moves close, to be directly in front of them. The Curator nods, albeit a bit shakily, and goes down on one knee. He brings the box forward, a small gasp coming from Vitae; opening it to reveal a simple silver band embedded with a decently sized opal stone front and center. The Curator looks directly at the Bookkeep, a genuine smile plastered on his face.
“I know we both find traditions frivolous and meaningless, but you mean so much to me Vitae that I could not help myself. We are already entwined by fate, the red string circles us more so unlike any other. So, my Bookkeep, my world, my Vitae… My love is yours, if you’re willing to take it.”
“Yes, you silly man, yes!”
#special event f/ovember#the curator.tm#s/i: vitae the bookkeep#dark pictures anthology.tm#otp: death tolls in literature#my art.exe#my moodboard.tm#dzv writes.tm
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Andropause
Sarah and I are gabbing while Walt is snoozing on the couch, and the convo shifts towards a documentary we've caught on Andropause, the debatably-present masculine counterpart to menopause.
I'm in my forties. I'm aging, I have less libido than I did back when I was in my teens or my twenties, but I'm still active. Sarah is turning 39 in a few months, and she openly says that she's in what you could call a sort of pre-pre-menopause. She still appreciates sex, but craves it a lot less than she did back in her twenties. She gets tired more easily, her mood shifts more noticeably by her own admission. Speaking to her GP, she was reassured regarding her sex life, a few weeks back. The older you get, the more flat-out hanky-panky loses its lustre. You start to want to explore your partners in less overt ways and, well - lucky for her, the two guys in her life are in the same boat. Actual balls-in-holes sex is now reserved for those instances where either one of the three of us feels a sort of emotional surge of endearment, and now expresses profound levels of attachment.
In clearer terms, we have sex not because we're horny, we have sex because we love each other, and have reached a point where no traditional means of saying "I love you" suffices anymore.
Compare and contrast with the documentary we saw, where an ex-bodybuilder and strongman converted into a media personality here in Quebec looks absolutely shocked, in his mid-fifties, when a female sexologist reminds him that there's different means of eliciting desire in a partner, outside of straight-up intercourse.
I remember giving Sarah a look as we put the Apple TV on Pause. "Wait. You're telling me this slab of meat, this certified mensch that was shown driving a fucking F-150 and chopping wood for his fireplace, who is in better shape at 55 than I'll ever be in the entirety of my life, is saying he thinks he's underperforming?! Doesn't he realize from how high he's started?! I used to watch strongman competitions with my grandfather, when I was a kid, and I saw the same guy lift a small chopper with both hands!"
Sarah nodded. "Yeah, he's setting the bar pretty high. You'd figure there'd be hormonal shifts once you hit sixty, but calling it an underrepresented medical condition at his level feels a bit cheap. I'd be more concerned if they showed us a guy like you, Grem, and plastered tests onscreen saying your testosterone levels would've dropped like a stone in way too short an amount of time. The guy's not plumetting, he's leveling out."
Our talking had woken Walt up, and the big guy had gone from giving us bleary half-awake looks to eventually having a good sense of the start of our conversation. "I mean, there's still something there, on some level," he tells us. "We've studied estrogen, progesterone, estradiol - all of it back to back - but we're still at the stage where guys pump vetenarian-use hormones or think reading, of all things, lowers your hormonal levels. The real issue isn't andropause so much as men not having access to the same levels of support as women, on the cusp of entering what you could biologically call old age."
I nod. "Did you ever get night sweats, Walt? I'm talking, Sarah and I both remembered to check the thermostat, the condo is certifiably not overheating, Palpatine is totally offline for the night and there's zero heat sources unaccounted for - and you still wake up with your chest and shoulders drenched?"
The big guy gave it some thought. "Not at my age, no - but ten years back? Absolutely. I'd dial everything back down to save on heating at night, and I'd wake up as if we were in the middle of a heat wave four hours later, with barely a single linen sheet on top of me."
I nod. "Mood swings, irritability, drops in energy levels?"
That one made Walt laugh. "I'm queer, Grem; being a tad more sensitive than most is kind of part and parcel of the whole experience. As for drops; I really couldn't say. You know me; I can fall asleep anywhere."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "But did you feel exhausted, about ten years back?"
Walt shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't have a CPAP routine and I was too stupid to check, so chances are I was already snoring like an outboard motor and maybe got half an hour's worth of decent rest out of eight hours of sleep. I can't really chalk it on andropause, considering."
I nod. "So if we pack this all in, andropause is sort of hard to quantify."
Walt nodded. "Either that, or men just aren't affected in the same way as women are with menopause, and being an ex-strongman trying to keep his hormone count up with no chemical assistance and just a controlled diet and a lot of training, well..."
He gestured at the documentary host's fridge-sized back blades. "My man's lacking perspective, here."
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Hallsville: French Country Influence
In a style reminiscent of French Provincial, our latest home impressively stands its ground, unique in its surrounds. With angles and bends, it wraps around its site so that on approach visitors are greeted with a full view of its elegance.
This is no regular home. Ten gables - some of which are doubles that stand below and then join onto another - help form the shape, each pointing skyward and giving height to balance the impact of the steep roof with its 35 degree pitch. (Roofs more commonly have a pitch around 22½-25 degrees). It was no simple feat working on this roof; care had to be taken to grip tightly and after a while the calves of the legs were aching as they were stretched out! With its terracotta tiles, this roof will look as good long into the future as it does today. These tiles actually came with a warranty that the colour will not change for the life of the tile; and they have an amazing 100 year warranty! That is peace of mind.
Solid dry-pressed bricks from Namoi Valley Brickworks have been split into two sections: face brickwork at the base, and painted above; reminiscent of traditional whitewashed walls. They join at a soldier course of face brickwork which travels around the entire home. Soldiers also stand boldly above the windows and doors. Not all corners are 90 degrees (square), so squints have been used to form a solid brick bond up those angled corners. You can read all about squints and how they do this here.
The wide frames on all the windows gives them a bold look to balance their appearance with the rest of the home. And for energy efficiency, all are double glazed. In keeping with the French style, arches feature prominently across the gables with arched windows to suit. These aren’t items that can simply be bought off-the-shelf. Custom-made windows, lintels, and architraves were called for; each manufactured to match the specific radius of the arc called for by the design for that window. As well as using our carpentry skills it was an opportunity to get into the workshop and do some steel work as well. You can read more about these arches in the second half of this post here.
Step inside and the sense of height continues. With a mix of ceilings between 9 and 10½ feet high the home feels open and spacious; glazed highlights above doors reinforcing this feel.
This home is built with entertaining in mind. The generous kitchen allows plenty of room to work: huge island bench, loads of cupboard space, quality appliances and a glorious view to the hills of Daruka. A separate bar area allows the drinks zone to be kept separate with boiling/chilled water and everything else needed; appliances, sink, and storage. Both tie together with their genuine stone benchtops.
Relax in the lounge; its stacked stone feature fireplace gives that place to “back up to” on a cold winter’s night that we all look for. Or in milder weather, open the twin sets of double-doors directly onto the Alfresco area.
The French theme continues with custom timber beading adorning the walls in the lounge and formal dining areas to form a focal point for decorating. Instead of sharp edges along the arched walkways, soft curves with bullnose edging prevail. Look up and solid plaster cornices and ceiling roses provide a focal point. Look down, and wide skirting boards that balance the cornice then lead on to flooring which has been meticulously laid with a wall perimeter then feature beading, all filled in with herringbone.
In the living areas, doors can open four-wide for entertaining, or close to better suit family life or for noise control.
The sleeping wing is a quieter and cosier area, with lower ceilings and carpeted floors - ideal for rest and comfort. Bedrooms with built in or walk-in robes to suit. Bathrooms with tiles to ceiling height and heated towel rails. Walk-in linen and storage room. All perfect for day-to-day family life.
As with all our houses, the timber work (doors, architraves, skirting boards etc) have been finished with a traditional brushed paint finish.
There are still some fittings yet to be chosen for this home but we’re sure the owners will enjoy finding those perfect items with which to finish it off. And we are also excited to see the landscaping put in place, to make the house look at home.
A bold and beautiful home for the ages.
This is another truly unique home we have built, designed by Urban and Abode for our client. The initial construction schedule was impacted by constant rain but once that settled down and the slab was poured, progress was smooth to the end. The design and style is very different to the previous house we built last year, but that is the thing with custom homes. Each is unique because every family finds joy in a different style, and their house must fulfil the needs of their site, and how they will live within the home. What remains the same though is that every J & S house is built with care and attention to detail so that it does fulfil those needs and bring joy for years to come.
If you missed the drone fly-over of this house in our previous newsletter, you can see it here
And if you’d like to see some more photos of this house, visit our website here
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Sculpting with Blades: The Aesthetics of Wall Cutting
In the realm of artistic expression, the creative impulse knows no bounds. Artists continually seek innovative ways to redefine conventional notions of art, pushing the boundaries of imagination and materials. One such unconventional medium is wall cutting, a distinctive form of sculpting that transforms the very architecture that surrounds us into a canvas for artistic expression. This article explores the aesthetics of wall cutting blade, delving into the techniques, inspiration, and the profound impact it can have on both the physical environment and the viewer's perception.
The Essence of Wall Cutting
Wall cutting is a craft that requires precision, skill, and an understanding of the medium. It involves the deliberate act of carving into walls, ceilings, or other structural elements to create intricate patterns, shapes, and designs. This process employs a variety of tools, primarily blades, which, when wielded with expertise, can result in breathtaking works of art. The act of cutting into walls itself is a metaphor for transformation and innovation.
Techniques and Tools
The tools of a wall cutter are extensions of their artistic vision. Blades, chisels, grinders, and saws are employed to manipulate materials such as concrete, plaster, or wood. The choice of tools and the depth of the cuts dictate the intricacy and texture of the final piece. Intricate filigree, abstract patterns, or lifelike reliefs can be created through the careful combination of these tools. Masters of this art form possess a deep understanding of the materials, allowing them to manipulate and sculpt with remarkable precision.
Inspiration and Vision
The inspiration behind wall cutting is as diverse as the artists themselves. Some draw from the world of nature, incorporating organic forms and patterns into their work. Others find inspiration in the human experience, using wall cutting to tell stories or convey emotions. Historical and cultural references, as well as contemporary issues, often serve as muses for wall cutting artists. In essence, the process of wall cutting is a means of expressing the artist's vision and narrative.
Impact on the Environment
Wall cutting transforms the mundane and functional into the extraordinary and artistic. It can breathe new life into an otherwise uninspiring architectural space. In both residential and commercial settings, it adds a touch of uniqueness and creativity, enhancing the ambiance of the environment. Whether it's a decorative wall panel, a striking ceiling design, or an ornate fireplace, wall cutting redefines the aesthetic of the space, creating a lasting impression.
The Viewer's Perspective
The aesthetics of wall cutting extend beyond the physicality of the art form. It invites the viewer to engage in a sensory and emotional experience. The interplay of light and shadow on the intricate cuts and patterns can evoke a sense of wonder and intrigue. The tactile nature of the textured surfaces invites touch, forging a connection between the viewer and the artwork.
Conclusion
Sculpting with blades in the form of wall cutting represents a captivating fusion of art and architecture. It challenges traditional notions of space, turning walls into canvases for creativity and innovation. The aesthetics of wall cutting are boundless, guided by the artist's vision and skills. This art form transforms the environment, captivates the viewer, and continues to push the boundaries of what is possible in the world of art and design. The blades become not just tools but instruments of a symphony, carving beauty into the very essence of the places we inhabit.
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What is a Media Wall in the UK?
Media walls are gaining traction in UK homes, thanks to the latest technological innovations. They offer an integrated setup for smart TVs, gaming consoles, entertainment devices, and even electric fires, helping you create a clean, unified look in your living or entertainment spaces. Are you planning to install one in your home and are looking for modern media wall ideas? Evolution Fires offers customisation options to make the media wall a perfect fit for your room.
Why media walls are a versatile choice for your home
A media wall serves as a specialised spot for your flat-screen TV and a modern electric fireplace. This setup offers an expansive, unobstructed viewing area for watching shows, playing games, or enjoying movies. The unit can be customised to house larger screens and optimise sound quality, all while blending technology and aesthetics in a pleasing manner.
Stay ahead with innovative features.
Modern media wall ideas are continuously adapting to align with current design trends and technologies. As smart home devices become increasingly common, media walls now come with advanced options like voice control or remote management through a smartphone app. Evolution Fires even offers touchscreen-controlled media walls that allow you to adjust lighting, flame brightness, and temperature.
Efficient use of space
One of the best things about media walls is their multifunctional design that maximises space utility. These units are skilfully crafted to house all your media and entertainment gadgets in one place, offering both convenience and functionality. Hidden cabinets or shelves can be incorporated for a cleaner, more organised look. The embedded electric fire not only adds a cosy ambience but also eliminates the need for a bulky traditional fireplace, making the unit suitable even for smaller rooms.
A boost for your home's aesthetics
Media walls offer various design benefits, such as sleek finishes and clean lines that can transform a room into a luxury space. And there’s no shortage of modern media wall ideas. You can choose from a variety of colours, materials, and storage options, allowing the unit to seamlessly match your existing decor.
Ready to jump in?
Evolution Fires is ready to help make your modern media wall ideas a reality. They offer a variety of pre-designed units that you can personalise based on your needs. The media walls are delivered either professionally spray-finished or ready for painting. Plus, you can easily install it yourself in less than an hour, with no need for plastering.
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The Beauty and Grandeur of Ceiling Medallions Explored
Ceiling medallions, often regarded as the unsung heroes of interior design, possess a timeless elegance that adds a touch of opulence to any space. These intricate decorative elements have graced the ceilings of grand ballrooms, stately homes, and cultural landmarks for centuries, infusing a sense of beauty and grandeur into architectural spaces. By seamlessly blending artistic craftsmanship with architectural functionality, ceiling medallions have transcended mere embellishments to become symbolic representations of sophistication. This exploration delves into the captivating world of ceiling medallions, uncovering their historical significance, artistic evolution, and their continued relevance in contemporary interior design.
A Glimpse into Timeless Elegance
Ceiling medallions hold a deep-rooted historical significance, originating as ornate embellishments in classical architecture. Evoking the opulence of eras gone by, these intricately designed focal points adorned grand palaces and stately homes. Through the passage of time, ceiling medallions have transitioned from symbols of aristocracy to accessible elements that retain their captivating allure. Today, they offer a bridge between history and modernity, adding a touch of timeless elegance to contemporary interiors.
The Artistry Behind Exquisite Ceiling Medallion Designs
The creation of ceiling medallions involves a fusion of artistry and craftsmanship. Skilled artisans meticulously carve, mould, or cast intricate patterns, capturing the essence of various architectural styles. From delicate floral motifs reminiscent of the Renaissance to bold geometric shapes inspired by Art Deco, each design tells a unique story. The process often encompasses a blend of traditional techniques and modern materials, resulting in medallions that are not just decorative elements, but true masterpieces.
Elevating Spaces with Ceiling Medallions
The installation of a ceiling medallion can instantaneously transform the ambiance of a room. Placed strategically around light fixtures or chandeliers, these medallions draw the eye upward, creating a sense of vertical depth and architectural interest. Their ability to seamlessly blend with diverse interior design styles enables them to enrich both minimalist and elaborate settings alike. By effortlessly marrying the old with the new, ceiling medallions breathe life into ceilings and spaces, infusing them with a newfound grandeur.
Exploring Materials and Finishes in Ceiling Medallion Artistry
Ceiling medallions are fashioned from an array of materials, ranging from lightweight polyurethane to timeless plaster and even modern metals. This diversity in materials offers a broad spectrum of textures, durability levels, and finishes. Whether left pristine in a crisp white, adorned with metallic accents, or intricately hand-painted in vibrant hues, the choice of finish further defines the character of the medallion and the room it graces.
Innovative Applications and Unconventional Placements
While traditionally associated with ceilings, these medallions have expanded their horizons, finding placement in unexpected areas. From enhancing the appeal of fireplace mantels to serving as decorative bed headboards, their versatility is boundless. Adorning walls, they assume the role of striking wall art, while oversized medallions on floors offer a captivating twist to conventional rugs. This dynamic adaptability reflects the medallions' capacity to inspire creative interior design ventures.
Incorporating Ceiling Medallions into Contemporary Design
The resurgence of interest in classical and vintage aesthetics has prompted a reimagining of how ceiling medallions can integrate seamlessly into contemporary interiors. Designers and homeowners alike are exploring novel ways to juxtapose ornate medallions with sleek, modern furnishings, resulting in a captivating juxtaposition of styles. This juxtaposition creates a visual dialogue between the past and the present, transcending time periods and cultivating interiors that are uniquely captivating.
Personalizing Spaces through Ceiling Medallion Selection and Installation
With a surge in DIY culture, ceiling medallions have become a favourite canvas for personalization. Homeowners can choose from an array of sizes, shapes, and designs, allowing them to infuse their personal tastes into their living spaces. The installation process, once considered complex, has been streamlined through user-friendly methods, enabling enthusiasts to embark on transformative home improvement projects. This hands-on approach not only brings a sense of accomplishment but also reinforces the medallion's role as a conduit for individual expression in interior design.
Conclusion
In the realm of interior design, where every detail contributes to the overall ambiance, ceiling medallions stand as artistic marvels that bridge the gap between historical charm and modern luxury. From their origins in classical architecture to their evolution into diverse styles and materials, these ornamental masterpieces have proven their enduring allure. As we navigate the ever-changing landscape of design trends, the beauty and grandeur of ceiling medallions remind us that some elements are truly timeless. Their ability to transform a mundane ceiling into a canvas of elegance cements their place as cherished accents, offering a glimpse into the rich tapestry of architectural history while inspiring new waves of creativity in the present and future.
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“Teach me how to fly”
Hermione Granger was fucked. And not at all in the sense that she would’ve wanted.
All seemed normal. She and Draco were sitting at her dining room table after staying late to finish reports.
It had become an unspoken tradition that whenever they were the last to leave the office, they’d head out to one of their flats and order takeout to unwind.
“Granger, all I’m saying is that the Gryffindor courage you once had isn’t the same anymore.” She knew he was teasing her.
“Meaning?” Her eyes narrowed at him.
“You don’t want to face your fears anymore.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
Not wanting to back down from a challenge, she downed the rest of wine before declaring, “okay then, teach me how to fly.”
A Cheshire Cat-like smile appeared on his face. “No take backs.” Was all he said before he apparated them onto the Malfoy Manor grounds.
“Accio broom.” He held his outstretched arm out, catching a broom.
He gracefully mounted it before holding his hand out.
She raised a brow, trying to think of a way to get out of this.
“Ready when you are Granger.”
Sighing, she took his hand and sat in front of him.
His arms wrapped around to hold onto broom’s shaft before taking off.
She watched as they were 5 ft high. Then 10 ft. Then 15 ft. By 30 ft she shut her eyes willing her body to stop shaking.
She felt him move her hair to the side, exposing her neck. “It’s okay. I won’t let you fall.”
Not trusting her voice, all she did was nod.
“Your eyes aren’t even open, are they?”
She shook her head.
“Granger, just open them.”
Slowly, opening one eye at a time, she looked down below. They were around 100 ft up. The Manor’s garden was a beautiful quilt of flowers. The image of the full moon was reflected onto the still pond. Despite being high up, the winds felt calming. The image of the full moon was reflected onto the still pond. Despite being high up, the winds felt calming.
“It’s really nice up here.”
He chuckled.
“Okay, now that you can see how nice it is, we’re going to slowly take a few laps around the grounds. Is that okay?”
She nodded in response.
They spent the next hour slowly flying about. The whole time, Draco have her a tour, telling her memories from childhood about the bushes he got stuck in. Or the time a peacock chased him into the pond.
Not once did Hermione get the anxiety-inducing feeling that she gets when her feet aren’t on the ground. For the first time, she felt at peace.
When they both landed back down safely, she glanced at him.
A giant grin was plastered on his face. His eyes crinkling with delight. His skin was tinged with a healthy flush of pink due to the biting cold. His usually artfully styled hair was windswept and messy, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
This was one of Hermione’s favorite versions of Draco. Carefree and unburdened. She couldn’t help but smile at him.
“I see you smiling, did I help you conquer your absurd fear of flying?”
Rolling her eyes, “just a smidge.”
“I’ll take it.” If possible, his grin broadened even more.
He led them inside the Manor where they sat in front of a fireplace drinking hot chocolate. He was telling her about his favorite quidditch memories from school.
Again, she was hit with the realization that this version of Draco was one of her favorites, the passionate version.
Come to think of it, over the past few years that they’ve been working together, she’s accumulated a lot of favorite versions of Draco. There was the one that brought her scones every morning. The one that challenges her. The one that hums to himself when he thinks no one’s listening. And so on.
Then it hit her: she’s in love with Draco Malfoy.
She couldn’t be in love with him. Even if he showed some semblance of interest, there was the possibility of ruining their friendship if it ended badly. After all, it took ages for her and Ron to start speaking again after their breakup. To this day, some awkwardness still lingers around them.
She couldn’t risk losing him for this unknown. So she decided, she needed to quash her feelings for Draco.
Week after week, she brought a new date to pub nights hoping that one of them would keep her mind away. But week after week, she couldn’t help but still think about a certain blonde man that she loves.
Part 1 below:
https://at.tumblr.com/lunnettewrites/sectumsempra/s7d06i6zqwzv
#dramione#dramioneprompts#hermione granger x draco malfoy#flying#different version of draco malfoy#twitter drabble
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Would you write something about x reader wanting to Chris do his tap dance and refuse to but gets convinced by his girlfriend? ☺️
wrapped around her finger
pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader
warnings: age gap, language, fluff, mentions of alcohol i guess
word count: 1.4k
a/n: hey! thanks for this request, it’s something i didn’t know i needed in my life😂i hope you like it!!
i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform
gif from TMZ
In the two years that you had been in a relationship with Chris, you had never seen him dance. Like an actual dance. Obviously, you had both attended numerous parties together and he always did stupid dance moves to make his friends, but mostly you, laugh.
You would think that with you being a dancer, Chris wouldn’t mind busting out some of the dance moves he learned when he was younger, but he never did. You asked all the time, mostly when he wasn't 100% sober and, thus, less self-conscious, but he always said that he didn’t remember.
It was the holiday season and this year, Chris and you had decided to spend it in Boston with his family. You both had a lot of things to take care of and you couldn’t afford to abandon them to travel halfway across the world to be with your family.
It was your first holiday season spent at the Evans’, which meant that you were about to witness a lot of their family traditions for the first time.
The first tradition that had been explained to you was that on December 23rd, the men went to get a tree while the women decorated the living room, followed by everyone decorating the tree when the men came back.
The next tradition was that, after Christmas Eve dinner, everyone had to open one present: matching pyjamas for the whole family.
The third tradition was the Christmas Day breakfast in the pyjamas from the previous night followed by games and a talent show.
You were currently seated in one of the chairs in the living room, watching as Scott and Chris were failing spectacularly at Pictionary.
“Time’s up!”, Shanna signals.
Scott groans, throwing his head back, “It was 'twist', Chris! Come on!”
Chris frowns at his brother, looking at the drawing, “How the hell was I supposed to guess that?”
“I drew a game of Twister!”
Chris crosses his arms, “It looks nothing like Twister, Scott.”
You snort before laughing at their bickering. You get up, leaving your glass on top of the fireplace, “Come on, Steve, it’s our turn!”
Scott groans, handing you the Sharpie as you get a piece of paper from the box. You open it, seeing 'gold medal' scribbled on it.
You smirk and turn back towards the family, nodding at Shanna so she can start the timer.
“Okay… GO!”, she announces.
You turn towards the paper, drawing a gold bar. Steve looks at you, inquisitively, before saying, “Umm, chocolate!” You shake your head, adding other gold bars to create a pyramid.
Steve looks at you, trying to figure out what you’re drawing, before screaming, “Oh! Gold bars!” You make a wavy sign with your hand, indicating that he’s almost there.
“Bar?” You shake your head again.
“Oh, okay, gold!”
You nod excitedly, moving on to the next part of the drawing. You draw a circle, writing 1 in it, and add a lanyard on top.
“1st place!” You shake your head at Steve, encircling the entire drawing, indicating that the answer is the whole thing.
“Umm, medal?” You frantically nod your head.
“Gold medal!”
“Yes!”, you scream in response. Steve gets up and hugs you excitedly before you both start doing your winner dance.
Scott and Chris both look at you, mouths agape, while a look of fake offense draws itself on Scott’s face, “How in the hell do you have a better connection with my boyfriend than I do with my brother?”
You chuckle, before shrugging your shoulders and replying, “Don’t worry, Scott. That was the last round so we're done winning everything…”
Scott and Chris both look at you with pouts on their faces as you laugh loudly, throwing your head back. You raise your hands in surrender and back away before plopping down in your seat, taking a sip of your drink.
“So, I believe I was told a talent show would be happening?”, you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.
Lisa smiles widely before nodding, “Indeed. Chris and Scott, do you want to start us off?”
Chris and Scott turn on the TV, playing their music. You didn’t know what they had planned because as Chris had said: “you have to wait for the surprise”.
You immediately burst out in laughter as the melody of “A Whole New World” from Aladdin starts.
Chris had made you watch Aladdin at least three times in the past couple of weeks (you had stopped counting) and you were confused, but you didn’t particularly mind since you loved the movie.
You smile throughout their excellent rendition of the song, clapping and cheering when they’re finished. Chris smiles, sitting down next to you before Lisa announces that Shanna and Carly were next with a scene from Lilo & Stitch.
As his sisters are playing Lilo & Stitch hilariously well, Chris turns towards you, smiling, before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, whispering “I love you”. You feel heat rising to your face, smiling back at him and kissing his cheek before laying your head on his shoulder.
As Shanna and Carly are bowing after their performance, you see Lisa turning to you.
“Okay, Y/N, your turn.”
Your eyes widen as you stare at her, “Wait, what? I didn’t know I was supposed to prepare something.” Lisa raises an eyebrow before looking over at Chris who was getting redder by the second.
You look at him intently before he stutters, “I… um… forgot to tell you?”
You groan at him, throwing your head back. Lisa chuckles silently before saying, “Well, then, since you forgot to say anything, maybe you should join her.”
Chris’ head snaps up towards his mom, “What? Ma, no. I already went.”
Lisa looks at Chris before shrugging her shoulders.
“Well, then. You heard your mom. Up.”, you tell Chris while standing up.
Chris looks up at you, raising an eyebrow. He clearly had no intention of getting up.
“What are we even going to do?”
You smirk at Chris.
“Well, I intend on singing ‘I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’, now what you do next to me is... Dealer's choice.”, you say, shrugging your shoulders.
Scott’s face lights up, “Oh my God, Chris, why don’t you tap dance while she sings?”
Chris shakes his head rapidly, crossing his arms over his chest, “No. Absolutely not.”
Chris’ family members all start to plead, saying that they haven’t seen him tap dance in so long. He doesn’t budge, continuing to shake his head. As his family abandon their mission, falling silent, Chris looks up at you.
You give him a pleading look, mouthing "please" before biting your bottom lip. He uncrosses his arms, maintaining eye contact with you, before sighing loudly, “Fine…”
You smile at him, leaving a kiss on his cheek, before asking, “Okay, well, where are your shoes?”
He sighs again, starting to get up, “They’re in my closet, I’ll get them.”
You hold up your hand, replying, “I’ll get them. I wanted to get myself some water anyways.”
He nods before settling back down in his seat.
You climb up the stairs, entering Chris’ room before heading to the closet. As you’re looking for his shoes, you can hear that the family has started to talk, rather loudly.
As you’re getting a glass of water from the kitchen, you hear Chris’ mom.
“She really just has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, yeah, she does.”, you hear Chris reply, love evident in his voice.
You enter the living room, a large smile plastered on your face, dangling Chris' tap shoes with one hand, “Well, then, Mr. Dancer, let’s do it.”
#chris evans#chris evans x black!reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans imagine#chris evans fanfic#chris evans x black reader#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x woc#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fanfics
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Best Medicine
KiriBaku w/ Lee! Kirishima & Ler! Bakugou
Summary: Bakugou is sad and Kiri cheers him up!
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It was finally winter break and Class 1A finally got a chance to go home and spend their Christmas break with their families. Everyone was ecstatic, everyone except Bakugou.
“I can’t wait to see my mom!” Midoriya beamed, eyes sparking with excitement.
“I will be visiting my mom everyday.” Todoroki said with a small smile.
Excited chatter filled the halls. Stories filled with family traditions, past experiences, all laced with happiness. Everyone rushed to their dorms to start packing to head home.
Bakugou sat in his room, curtains shut, under a blanket, staring at his wall. He felt alone.
Bakugou loved Christmas, ever since he was a little kid. He loved waking up on Christmas morning to the smell of his dad’s cooking, the sounds of unwrapping presents, the warmth of a fireplace. He loved the feeling of his family being whole.
But in all honesty, Bakugou was afraid to go home. Scared his parents wouldn’t be proud of him, scared they would be disappointed that he’s not a good hero, that he wasn’t doing good enough. Tears started running down Bakugou’s face as his thoughts clouded with fears.
“I just want to be good enough for them.” He whispered out in a cry.
Kirishima knocked on Bakugou’s door, and slowly pushed the door open, letting light from the hallway flood in.
“Hey Bakubro do you still have my charger— Hey! Bro what’s going on?” Kirishima was met with a sobbing Bakugou. He quickly shut the door and locked it, caring about Bakugou’s privacy when he was in a vulnerable position, making sure nobody saw the blonde at his lows.
“Please shitty hair not right now.” Bakugou sniffled, trying to hold back any more tears from escaping, but failed.
Kirishima made his way over to the blonde and started to rub the explosive blondes back sweetly. Bakugou winced at first, not used to being touched, but quickly gave in to the comforting.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kirishima hastily asked, trying not to push the blonde into doing anything he didn’t want to, especially since Bakugou wasn’t in his right mind.
“Not really I just-” Bakugou said through tears, unable to bring himself to complete his sentence.
“It’s okay buddy, when you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here to listen, you’re gonna be okay.” Kirishima comforted. What the red head didn’t know is that was what Bakugou needed. Someone to reassure him, someone to vent to. Bakugou needed a friend.
“Do you want something to drink? I can get you some water?” Kirishima offered, hoping to brighten up the sulking blonde’s mood.
“I’m okay, thank you Kiri.” The blonde finally sat up, looking at the red head and flashing him a sad smile.
The smile made Kiri’s head fill with a bit of concern. The red head just wants to make sure his friend is okay.
“I’m not leaving until you’re happy.” Kirishima said while swinging his right hand over the blonde’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. And surprisingly, the blonde let it happen. Enjoying the warmth and protection of the red head.
Kirishima thought about his childhood, and how his mom’s would cheer him up when he was sad. The red head had an idea.
“Bakugou, when I was younger and was feeling sad, my mom’s would give me this special medicine, and it always made me feel happy after!” Kirishima explained, smile spreading from his lips, gently swaying the two of them back and forth.
“What kind of medicine does that?” Bakugou asked, genuinely confused, really thinking Kirishima’s parent’s drugged him or something.
Kirishima laughed out and tackled Bakugou. Bakugou’s back laying flat on his bed as Kirishima straddled the blonde’s waist.
“Kiri-WHAT!?” Bakugou was taken by surprise, struggling to get out from under the red head. “What are you doing?” He asked, truly not knowing where this was going.
“Laughter silly! Laughter is the best medicine! And Doctor Kirishima is here to help!” Kirishima replied, wiggling his hands over Bakugou’s toned stomach, making Bakugou’s eyes widen in realization.
“Kiri-No dohohon’t even think about it.” Bakugou tried to hold back an anticipation giggle, trying his best to sound stern and unaffected.
“I’m not even doing anything yet BakuBro.” Kiri flashed the explosive blonde a smile and started to lower his hands. When Kirishima’s fingers finally made contact with Bakugou’s stomach, the blonde instantly caved in to suppressed giggles.
“Nahahaha Kihihihihiri noohohohoho!” Bakugou let out steady flows of giggles.
“But look you’re happy already!” The red head shot back a huge smile to the giggly blonde. Still teasing Bakugou with his fingers.
“Ahahhahaaha thihihihihis ihihihihihihis tohohohohohorture!” The blonde laughed out, desperately trying to remove the red head’s hands off of his tummy.
“No, this is treatment, not torture. You’re laughing! This is good! Tickle tickle BakuBro!” Kirishima laughed out, moving his fingers to the blonde’s armpits, resulting in stronger laughter from Bakugou.
“NAHahahHaHa NoOHOHoho MohOHoHoOre! Ihihihihi’m BEHEHEHEtter!” The blonde squeezed his arms down to protect himself, but ended up just trapping Kirishima’s hands in his tickle spot. “Ohohohohokay! HahahahahHa Ihihihihi’m HahaHaHappy!
“Hmmm, maybe you are, but I just need to make sure.” Kirishima teased as he inched his way down the laughing boys’ torso, hitting a sweet spot right underneath Bakugou’s armpits, but right above his upper rib. This cause the blonde to go into hysterics.
“NAHAHAHAHA KIHIHIHIHIHIRISHMA NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE NOHOHOHOHO!” The blonde was practically screaming as Kirishima dug his hands into his most ticklish spot. “BAHAHAHAHAH IHIHIHIHI’M HAHAHAHAPPY IHIHIHIHI FEHEHEHEHEEL BEHEHEHEHETTER!” Bakugou could feel his eyes fill with happy tears.
“Almost done! You’re doing great! There’s one more dose of medicine you need to take!” Kirishima giggled as he pretended to play doctor. He flipped over to face the blonde’s feet, pulling both legs into a headlock, then securing the boy in place with his hardening quirk.
Kirishima raked one finger up the boys right foot.
“NGA Nohohohoho Kiri! Nahahaha-” The blonde’s pleading was interrupted by Kirishima raking all his fingers up and down the poor boys’ sole.
Bakugou would never admit it, but the tickling really did help him feel better, as he laughed all his problems away.
“AHAHAHHAA KHIHIHIHIHIRI NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Bakugou’s happy tears finally making his way down his cheeks.
Kirishima was now tickling both feet, hardening one of his fingers and scratching at each foot carefully, not missing a single spot. That drove Bakugou insane. It tickled like hell. And Bakugou couldn’t even escape. He just had to endure the tickling.
Bakugou flew from side to side, attempting to wiggle his way out of the tickle prison. He used all his willpower to sit up and try to push Kirishima off of him. Bakugou strength was dramatically weakened because of the tickling.
“OHOHOHOKAY EHEHEHEHEHENOUGH AHAHHAHAHA!” Bakugou’s laughter finally going silent.
“Just a few more drops of medicine!” Kirishima responded, softening his tickle attack on the blonde’s feet.
After a few minutes (which felt like forever to Bakugou), Kirishima slowed the tickling, and stopped, helping the blonde up to a sitting position.
“You okay buddy?” Kirishima asked sweetly, smile still plastered on his face.
Bakugou, residual giggles still escaping his lips. “Haha yeah.” He turns to face Kirishima, “Thank you.”
“Anytime BakuBro.” The red head said as he pulled Bakugou in to another hug.
#boku no hero academia#bokunoheroacademia#bnha#my hero academia#myheroacademia#mha#mha tickle fic#bnha tickle fic#bakugou#bakugou katsuki#kirishima#kirishima eijiro#kiribaku
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Holiday Character Tag
You Bring Me Home edition // Alani Hale
hi friends!! I saw this really cute trend started by @oh-honey-styles and I wanted to join the fun so without further ado, here’s Christmas—Halani—edition from our girl Alani herself ♡
• How do you plan to spend the holidays?
Sooo since Harry and I both have very low tolerances for snow, we’ve decided to spend Christmas with my family in Hawai’i! H actually hasn’t been back to the island since he started recording his first album and he’s excited to catch some much needed sun and waves. We’ve talked about maybe getting a place of our own in Kona some day, but New York City has grown on me quite a bit and Harry says he’s home wherever I am, so for now we’ll just visit. We also plan to stop in London for a few days and see his family before heading back to NYC for New Years. Anne sent me a photo of my very own stocking above her fireplace the other day and I nearly dissolved into a puddle of tears on the floor. Needless to say, I think it’s going to be the best Christmas yet ♡
• What’s your favorite holiday tradition?
Christmas parades are kind of a big deal in Hawai’i. Every year, the café serves as the staging area for all the carolers, dancers, and workers who put on our local parade, so it’s kind of like one big neighborhood party. It’s a little too warm for hot chocolate, so we usually serve what Pua has nicknamed “Santa Smoothies,” which are basically just watermelon slushees with a bit of whipped cream on top. Afterwards, my family usually heads down to the beach and has a little campfire with kalua pork sandwiches. I can’t wait for Harry to experience it.
• Will you be kissing someone under the mistletoe this year?
Hmmm, good question. I asked Harry if he thinks James Marsden will kiss me under the mistletoe this year and this was his reaction:
• What is the best thing that happened to you this year?
Reuniting with Harry was definitely the best thing that happened to me this year. We both grew a lot in our time apart, and in many ways I think that made our relationship stronger, but it also made me realize how much I never want to spend another second without him. Harry is my best friend, and we understand each other in ways that no one else quite can. When we were broken up, I kept finding myself thinking about him in the most mundane situations. There’s a little record shop near my apartment and I’d sometimes imagine what songs he’d pick out for me. Even the sunrise itself seemed to bring back fond memories of the one person I wanted to be with the most. It didn’t help that his face was plastered on every goddamn skyscraper in Times Square, but I digress. Anyways, we’ve been back together now for almost a whole year, and it feels as though we never missed a beat. Harry still looks at me like I’m made of gold, kisses me like I’m his only source of air, and holds me like he doesn’t ever want to let go. And he won’t, neither will I. So to offer a more serious answer to your previous question, Harry is the person I will kiss under the mistletoe this year and every year for the rest our lives.
Mele Kalikimaka friends! ♡ Alani
#thank you for reading!! maybe check out ybmh while you’re at it👀#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry styles writing#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fluff#ybmh
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The Love We Have
Part 2/5 - AO3 - Previous - next
Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen… only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.
Ship: Geraskier
Rating: T
Warnings: None?? Maybe… I’ll add them later if I remember any.
_______
They’d reached Kaer Morhen by dinner. The keep was… not as impressive as Jaskier had imagined. Deep down he’d known that the home of the wolf witchers had been severely damaged long before Jaskier had taken his first breath, but in his head he’d always imagined a beautiful awe inspiring castle that rose from the mountains and dominated the horizon.
It was barely more than a ruin.
A very pretty ruin, one that Jaskier would normally find absolutely fascinating from an academic perspective, but… he was supposed to be living here during the harsh cold winter.
Perhaps this really had been a bad idea.
He swallowed, debating hiding behind Geralt as they entered the keep, but there was a reason that he’d become a bard instead of inheriting his noble title. If there was one thing Jaskier could do, it was perform. He took a deep breath and plastered a blinding smile onto his face. It was time to act. He laced his fingers with Geralt’s and flashed his witcher a wink before pulling him through the big heavy wooden gates. Another silver-haired witcher grunted as Jaskier flew past him.
“We made it!” he cried with false cheer, spinning both him and Geralt round in a circle. The witcher thankfully loosened his grip on Roach’s reins and she trotted off towards the stable. “I can’t believe we finally made it, oh darling it’s beautiful.”
Geralt’s flushed, a pretty pink that was stark against his pale skin. “Jask,” he groaned but let himself be pulled around, much to Jaskier’s delight.
The other witcher cleared his throat and Jaskier ground to halt, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and pressing his face into his chest with a giggle. “My deepest apologies!” he exclaimed, pulling away from Geralt but keeping an iron tight grip on Geralt’s hand as he bowed deeply. “I am Jaskier, Geralt’s partner.”
He gave the witcher a charming smile and winked as he extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, as the other witcher stoically ignored his greeting. “Stop flirting.”
Jaskier pouted, but sighed and curled back up into Geralt’s side, taking advantage of the heat. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Geralt had been blessed by fire nymphs. It would explain the smokey musk that followed Geralt everywhere, even when they hadn’t been near a campfire in days.
“Geralt, what is this?” the other witcher grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his face clear in its stony disapproval.
“Jaskier, my bard, partner,” Geralt muttered. “He’s staying with us this winter. Jaskier, this is Vesemir.”
“Hi,” Jaskier said with an awkward wave.
“Take him to your room and then come down to the library.”
Vesemir walked away before either of them could argue. Jaskier let out a low whistle. “Well, shit. That didn’t go so well.”
“He’s just protective,” Geralt insisted, squeezing Jaskier’s hand.
Jaskier looked down at their linked fingers, surprised that they were still together. As far as Jaskier could tell, Vesemir was the only witcher at the keep, and thus the only one they had to convince for now. There was no need for Geralt to keep hold of his hand… and yet, here they were.
“I just want them to like me,” Jaskier sighed.
“They will.”
Jaskier scoffed. “Darling,” the pet name rolling off his tongue without thought, “It took you years to warm up to me.”
“That’s not true,” Geralt grumbled.
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, it is!” he said as he poked Geralt in the chest.
Geralt hummed and stalked away, pulling Jaskier with him as if he’d completely forgotten they were even holding hands. Jaskier yelped and tripped over his own feet, gripping onto Geralt’s arm to steady himself. It was going to be an interesting winter indeed.
_____________
Geralt’s room was very lovely. He had a large double bed pressed up to the one wall. It was covered in furs of varying types, mostly wolf fur by the feel of it. There was also a large heavy rug in front of the fireplace that was blazing. As a result, the room was actually warm, almost too warm after the numbing cold of the mountain. There was a warm scent of lavender in the room that Jaskier hadn’t expected. It was a scent he enjoyed himself and he frequently chose perfumes and oils that were lavender based if the coin allowed. He found a small incense on the windowsill, the source of the smell. He inhaled deeply and smiled. Whilst Geralt was away he could imagine that the witcher had chosen this particular scent to keep Jaskier with him over their months, sometimes even years, apart.
It was nonsense, nothing but a dream, but it warmed Jaskier’s heart nonetheless. He flopped down onto the bed, exhausted in both mind and body. It was larger than the ones they’d had to share at the inns on the road. He was strangely grateful for that. It meant he’d be able to put at least some distance between him and Geralt. He would need that if he were to survive the winter. He rolled onto his front and pulled his lute case from off the floor. Once his precious instrument was safely unpacked and in his hands, he rolled back, staring up at the ceiling as he plucked tunelessly at the strings.
The cold had ruined the tuning just like he’d suspected it would. It was hard enough to keep the damned instrument in tune without the sudden changes in temperature, but at least it gave him something to focus on. He closed his eyes and fiddled with the pegs one by one, plucking at the strings with possibly more force than necessary, until his darling instrument was once again the envy of all the Continent.
He sighed dramatically and began to pull a heart wrenching melody from his baby. It had no words yet, but the message was clear to even an untrained ear. It was melancholic, full of longing, heartache… and lust.
He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until a sob tore from his throat. He cradled his lute to his chest and let the tears flood down his cheeks. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was crying. Perhaps the whole journey up the mountain had just been a bit much for him. Physically he was completely exhausted. He wasn’t sure his toes would ever recover from the cold and even though they’d taken it slowly, the mountain path was called The Killer for a reason. It would have been hard enough even without the emotional toil that had accompanied it.
The hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He gasped and shuffled until his back hit the headboard. It took him a moment to notice the soft yellow eyes looking down at him.
“Ah, Geralt,” he greeted with as much cheer in his voice as he could muster.
“You’re crying,” Geralt whispered, behaving uncharacteristically soft for the witcher. Jaskier bit back a groan of confusion at the concern lying in those familiar amber eyes. His heart was too fragile right now for this emotional whiplash and Geralt’s odd behaviour was opposite of what he needed at the moment.
“Just tired,” he muttered, wiping the tears from his face.
Geralt carefully took the lute from his hands and returned it to its case. Jaskier felt an urge to hug Geralt and never let go. No one had even treated Jaskier or his belongings with such tenderness. Gods, he was a mess. He was almost crying again because Geralt had touched his lute and didn’t break it.
“You’ll feel better after some food and then we can come back upstairs. Vesemir won’t be expecting our company this evening. We won’t have to pretend.”
Jaskier chewed his bottom lip to stop himself from blurting out that it wouldn’t be a pretence. That would be far too dramatic even for his tastes. Instead he nodded and let Geralt pull him from the bed. Of course, being the disaster that he was, he tripped and practically fell into the witcher’s arms. Geralt caught him but Jaskier hadn’t expected to be so close to the witcher. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as he glanced up at Geralt. Well… more across. Geralt really wasn’t that much taller than him despite his fearsome appearance.
They were close.
Too close.
Jaskier could feel the tickle of Geralt’s breath on his lips, that smokey musk mixed with leather and oil washing over him. He licked his lips, speechless for possibly only the fifth time in his entire life. For a moment he thought he saw Geralt’s eyes flicker down to his lips, but that couldn’t be right. That would just be an illusion, wishful thinking. He cleared his throat and patted Geralt on the shoulder.
“Alrighty! Thank you, Geralt,” he stammered and pushed away.
Gods, when had things become so difficult. They’d been friends for years and Jaskier had never been afraid of physical contact with Geralt before. Why couldn’t he just relax, be himself? He was going to ruin everything. Vesemir would never believe their performance if he kept acting like a scared rat, and Geralt would likely start becoming suspicious if he didn’t get a grip soon.
“I’m sorry.”
Jaskier’s eyes flashed up in surprise. Of all the reactions he’d expected from Geralt, an apology hadn’t been on the list. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re scared of me.”
Jaskier gaped, opening his mouth and closing it several times before letting out a long sigh. “No, I’m not.”
Geralt snorted. “I can smell it, Jaskier. There’s no point in lying to me.”
Jaskier swallowed. “And what else can your witcher senses pick up?” he asked. Okay, so maybe he was a little afraid, but not for the reasons that Geralt would think. If Geralt could smell fear, then it was only natural that he could smell other emotions, love for one, lust for another. Oh gods, how many times had Jaskier come back to camp after a moment alone to himself? He’d never even considered that Geralt could smell it on him.
“On you?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier would praise all the gods if he never had to hear that again. For once, he would just like Geralt to use his damn words! He was tired of trying to translate all the bloody grunts. Whilst he was unusually proficient in it, he was also a troubadour, a poet, a wordsmith. He took a deep breath, ready to give Geralt a piece of his mind when Geralt cut him off, pressing his palm to Jaskier’s lips. He huffed and glared at the witcher.
“Let me think, Jaskier,” Geralt said softly. Jaskier rolled his eyes and did the only rational thing he could think of. He licked Geralt. The witcher snarled and pulled his hand away. “Urgh!”
Jaskier cackled and put his hands on his hips. “Serves you right, darling.”
Geralt growled and shoved Jaskier lightly in the chest so he fell back onto the bed. “You stink of many things, bard.”
“Oh?”
“Lust mostly, bloody hell I’ve never known anyone to reek of arousal every fucking hour of the day,” Geralt grumbled but there was a fondness in his voice. Jaskier felt himself blush at the witcher’s words. He didn’t mention that his arousal around Geralt didn’t necessarily equate to feeling it all the time. That was a fun little fact for another time, possibly never. One to write into his songs perhaps. “and then something… sweeter.”
“Sweeter?” Jaskier asked, his heart beating faster than any percussion at Oxenfurt. There was still time to run right… maybe the trek down the mountain wouldn’t be as hard as the journey up.
“Not sure what it is,” Geralt admitted and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.
Oh.
Jaskier’s relief didn’t last long at all. Geralt didn’t know what it was… because he’d never experienced it. Didn’t have the knowledge to put a name to it. He knew fear, and lust… probably anger too.
But he didn’t know love.
Jaskier wanted to kiss him. He wanted to worship him. He wanted Geralt to know how much he was loved, adored, but he was a coward; a fucking coward.
“Ah, right, well… I have no idea what that could be. New perfume perhaps?”
“Hmm,” Geralt answered, not sounding very convinced and Jaskier didn’t blame him.
“Shall we go?” Jaskier asked quickly, changing the subject before Geralt could press. “I am starving!”
Geralt led him through the stone corridors of Kaer Morhen, occasionally pointing out rooms that Jaskier might need to be able to find. He learnt that they were expecting two more witchers for the winter; Geralt’s family, Eskel and Lambert. He’d heard rumours that Lambert had made a friend on the road but, like Jaskier, he wouldn’t be allowed to winter with them unless they were in a relationship.
Jaskier scoffed haughtily. “You do realise that that is a stupid rule, right?”
“It protects us.”
“And you need protection from your friends? Is romance really that much stronger than friendship?” Jaskier muttered. It was bullshit, but he was a little smug that Geralt was prepared to break the rules for him.
Their friendship meant more to the witcher than he’d realised.
“Geralt, bard,” Vesemir greeted with a grunt, gesturing to the bowls of stew that didn’t look too dissimilar to the bowls of food that Geralt pulled together on the road. Jaskier was grateful for his years of acting training at Oxenfurt, because otherwise he would have pulled a terrible face that would have only offended Geralt’s father figure.
Instead, he swiped up his spoon with a cheerful smile and slid into the bench. Geralt silently moved to sit next to him and Jaskier, taking advantage of their situation, pressed a little closer than he would normally dare. Their thighs touched under the table and Jaskier felt a blush creep up on his face. He hooked his foot around Geralt’s, ignoring the startled look he received.
“Good evening,” Jaskier greeted with faux cheer “Oh this. This smells delicious, I can certainly see where Geralt’s gets his culinary skills from.”
Geralt almost choked on his food. Whilst Jaskier’s words sounded like a compliment, they both knew how much Jaskier had complained about Geralt’s cooking over the years. In fact, Jaskier had taken to bringing his own seasoning and herbs on their travels. Anything to save him from the bland never-ending stews of the road.
Vesemir smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Geralt has the culinary skills of a queen, bard.”
Jaskier flushed; rumbled. “Ah well, it does look rather similar.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
Jaskier dropped his head, feeling sufficiently shamed. Only he would accidentally insult their hosts on the first days whilst trying to make a quick-witted joke at Geralt’s expense.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and ate a spoonful of his soup. The flavours exploded in his mouth and he moaned around his spoon. “Oh, dearest Melitele, this is good! My sincerest apologies, Vesemir. Lesson learnt.”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. Whilst their cooking skills were vastly different, Geralt and Vesemir’s conversational skills were apparently not so far apart.
“Oh, you have got to tell me how you made this, it’s bloody delicious! Not even the finest banquets in all the Continent can hold a candle to—”
“That’s enough now, bard,” Vesemir growled but there was mirth in his eyes.
Jaskier nodded and went back to his soup. Dinner was a quiet affair. Vesemir asked Geralt a few questions about life on the path, mostly professional curiosity from one witcher to another. Geralt’s answers were monosyllabic and boring, hardly a story to tell. Jaskier vowed to retell their adventures to the Kaer Morhen witchers over the winter. He would do them justice, and contrary to what Geralt thinks of his ballads, he would even tell the truth. They only needed a minor embellishment here and there. The winter would hopefully give him plenty of time to work on a new set. The time he’d normally spend teaching could be spent creating masterpieces, the likes of which the Continent had never seen before.
“Well, this has been very lovely, I thank you once again, my dear Vesemir, for the exquisite dining, but it’s been a long day and we really should be getting to sleep,” Jaskier announced with a flourish, giving Geralt a wink.
“Just remember, bard, that witchers have better hearing than you can even imagine,” Vesemir said with possibly the best poker face that Jaskier had ever seen. It was only the slight twinkle in his ancient eyes that gave away the joke.
Jaskier laughed and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek. “We’ll be sure to remember that, thank you.”
_________________
By the time they got back up to Geralt’s—no, their room—Jaskier was panicking. It had been an innocent joke on Vesemir’s part, a warning that privacy was not something they could expect. It was possibly even a plea to keep any sexual activities as quiet as possible and at reasonable hours of the day.
But…
Jaskier was panicking.
“Geralt?” he asked as he paced around the room.
Geralt was busy stripping off and getting ready for bed. Normally Jaskier would try to peek little glances, but he was too anxious. He didn’t have the luxury of ogling Geralt at that moment. They had a problem.
“Hmm?”
“Geralt, we have a problem.”
Geralt snorted. “We always have a problem, Jaskier, and normally you’re the one causing it.”
Jaskier gaped, his hands flying to his hips in a display of outrage. “Geralt! That is just rude! Mister-Let’s-Call-The-Law-of-Surprise-Even-After-We’ve-Just-Seen-How-Bad-It-Can-Be. You are rude and grumpy, and I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”
Geralt turned, giving Jaskier a rather lovely view of his bare torso, and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have been there at all if you could keep your dick in your pants.”
“Oh ho ho! No, no, no. You are not blaming that one on me.”
Geralt rolled his eyes. “Focus, Jask.”
Focus…
“Oh bollocks, yes, yes. Focus! Where was I?”
“You have a problem?” Geralt reminded him gently.
“We have a problem, darling. Witcher hearing,” he announced, his arms wide.
Geralt just stared at him blankly.
“They’ll know if we don’t… you know?” Jaskier hissed, but Vesemir’s words still rang in his head.
“So?”
“Oh come on, Geralt. That’s just not realistic! I assume you have at least mentioned me in passing over the years and the umm… well the trouble my umm… my habits can cause.”
“Fuck.”
“Precisely!”
#the witcher#geraskier#witcher#kaer morhen#kaer morons#eskel#lambert#vesemir#geralt of rivia#jaskier pankratz#wolfie’s witcher writing
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