#alas i am a grumpy old man before my time

[sempersirens]

so often i open up this app with the intention of being more active, see a five paragraph long rant about something entirely nonsensical that elicits this exact response in my head

and just have to call it a day

[katyspersonal]

Ayyyy 3 years of Bloodborneing! I am old now xD 🎉

I checked my @katyahina main, that existed many months before this blog, and.. damn, I really HAVE been into Bloodborne for 3 years! Not just that, but I've kept missing the proper day because I misremembering joining in Spring and not Winter. But.. yeah!

^ This meme was how my Bloodborne fan era technically started. It was the first thing I've posted on it, after about a month of passionate discussions with my friends who played it.. and then fishbowlcarnage, a super based Soulsborne blog that unfortunately deactivated year later, liked it and followed me instantly. I've just started to take first steps towards being "properly" online in social media after a seriously horrible and long period in my life, and having that sense of 'a cool person' giving me attention again, after all that time? Yeah, I felt like I could not pull the 'it was just a joke, I do not intend to post more Bloodborne!!' after something so significant. Look, I was very sad, and in shards from after leaving abusive relationship that were a huge part of my "isolation" from sane people. Still, I think it is funny that I might not even have stayed around in this fandom, had it not been a single person giving me a hand at the most important time. She never knew how meaningful it was for me, and never will now (genuinely hope she is fine, wherever she is..)

But afterwards I started drawing and loredigging more! This aesthetic and this type of storytelling was absolutely nothing like what I was used to, so it was very hard to whip my art into a more "serious" shape after years of round, cute and cartooney stuff. And even harder to connect so many vague hints and scattered lore scraps! I thought I was losing my mind upon discovering my first theories. Heck, I swear I learned what growing eyes on the inside felt like XD @val-of-the-north was there for me on every step on the way, he remembers me screaming at how bad it hurt my brain and how I was losing sanity dsfhjdfs In the end, my brain did get completely rewired in terms of media analysis and how I create things. I think I will never be the same. Admittedly, I am so, so, SO thankful to my former self for discovering all theories on my own, instead of instantly socialising and taking hot takes, theories and designs in the fandom as a reference. Talking with other fans significantly improved my interpretations and theories, but the best way to go is to first have your own version, so it can be refined upon interactions. Rather than just letting what's already there decide for you, you feel?

Granted, it's been painful 3 years for at least 5 significant reasons, and time flew really fast. Sometimes I regret having joined the fandom instead of being the 'unreachable' fan (the one that just posts theories and fanart without ever actually interacting with other fans). Watching the best, the most level-headed and interesting fandom in my life rot into a clown mess of 'cool kids' cliques, hierarchies and division, discourse, passive aggression, toxicity, gospel headcanons, snobbish treatment of any fan that didn't grab a beer with an "influencer" at the Discord and resentment towards fans who are actually passionate was PAIN. I hoped this kind of rot that kills every other small fandom could never touch US, but alas.

On the other hand, accepting that all good things should rot one day is important part of any engagement. Resisting what's natural end only makes things worse. ...that sounded like a very Soulsborne-moment. Besides, all pain (personal one or 'on behalf of my community' one) was worth the knowledge and insights on nature of people I've gotten! I understand so much more, it is only fair that the price was so heavy. ....and that also sounded like a very Soulsborne-moment. And at the same time, while I was raving like a grumpy old man about "better simpler times", even older fans came towards me to admit that actually this is not a novelty but just a more annoying form of it, and the community knew at least two previous 'cycles' of rising and then rotting like this. So in the end it doesn't matter, and some day things will improve again, only to get ruined again. ..... *sighs* and is not it a fucking Soulsborne-moment yet AGAIN.

I am still glad that I was able to find the interest in these awesome stories, and that I've found such good friends. I think in the end, the biggest reason why these games have such unreal grip on me is that they understand me like no other piece of media did. With all previous things I've been into, I was the one trying to understand them, but here, ironically considering my lore essays, it is understanding me. The despair, the endless existential crisis, the traumas, the doubts, the struggle to remember what's the reason to even live and hope is, observations on society I've had on instinctive level despite intellectual disabilities but could never articulate... the nightmares, too. But this is even better that I've found people who can understand me through how I understand it. I can't go back to how I used to socialise before the nightmare everything has been spiralling as for several years, the trust issues run far too deep and control me far too much, but I feel as alive as someone in my position could be here. And this matters.

[daincrediblegg]

How did you come up with Lady Terror?

OH THAT'S A GOOD QUESTION!!! Well. The short answer is that I watched The Terror again after a few years and needed to jump that grumpy old irish man immediately because he's so sad and outcast and pathetic, so I did what I usually do, which is wedge myself as hard as possible into the canon, slap a cool nickname onto it, and that was that.

But as many of you know, I'm not into short answers. So here we go.

Honestly, the process of developing Lady Terror has been a really interesting one. As I've explained before she was initially meant to be part of a more sci-fi centric AU based loosely off of 1899 in which she is a physical manifestation of the ship, but the way she developed from there is entirely due to three factors, 1) my friend's staunch encouragement (some of whom are still around, some of whom have deactivated, alas), 2) the Gothic Literature, film theory (which was very philosophically heavy), and the women gender and sexuality classes I was taking last year and 3) my staunch love for Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre reemerging in my consciousness at the time. These elements combined really gave me a sense of purpose when thinking about the relationship dynamics that I wanted to put forward with Francis and Lady Terror because I can absolutely never in my life just throw my self-inserts in all willy nilly because I am of the firm and staunch belief, which has been reinforced by my studies of all genres, that romance has the capability to be as radical and philosophical as any other, and where Crozier is concerned, I think he has so much potential as a romantic figure to break a lot of the common conventions that proliferate the genre, and put together with a figure like Lady Terror, it just makes my brain go brrrrr in a way that a lot of pairings with him just... don't.

Because the focus of their relationship is on the complexities, horror and fear of love. These are two people who have been ostracized in different ways but recognize in each other that ostracization, but beyond that, their capability that continues to be stifled by a social order that is designed to keep them in their place. I've talked a lot about how Francis is probably my favorite to do think work on because he's both a colonized subject but he's also a colonizer and that's his big struggle throughout the series (mirrored, perhaps, only by Hickey), but Lady Terror mirrors him in a unique way in that she is a privilaged colonized subject, and the unique experience that that entails connects them in a way that he doesn't share with a lot of characters, and one that I think is fascinating to explore.

Because like god. What if you were all that but also truly loved? Not to be confused with devotion, adoration, admiration, or with simply being seen. What if you were loved with those things, but also then for your mind, your humor, your ability to reject and rebel against that social order, and still be loved in a way that was barred to you because the social order that you were born into is designed to continue to reject you on every level? What if then you found it in a place that wants you dead? What do you do with that love? Knowing and fearing that you will be rejected again or, even more horrifying, that it could be ripped away from you at any moment because, again, this place wants you dead. You could not be more equally as lucky and as damned. But then also you wonder if this small and sacred thing can do anything at all? does it have the capacity to change things? Does the reinforcement that the union brings matter at all to anyone else? And how do you cope with that? All questions that I'm hoping to pose with them. I don't have strict answers for all of those questions, of course, but perhaps some hints in certain directions. But I hope to put them through their paces in this way.

... but also. Fundamentally, at the end of the day, I did come up with Lady Terror because I want to fuck that old man so bad it makes me look stupid. But also I'm a lit major and if I don't get freaky with it I'll die. Just how it goes with me, I guess.

[thebirdandhersong]

The Year So Far Book Ask

Tagged by @madamescarlette <3 thank you, darling!! (I DO SO LOVE TO TALK ABOUT BOOKS!!!!)

1. Best book you have read in 2021 so far?

HOW can I answer that!!!! Here is a top 10 because I cannot narrow it down!!

Middlemarch: read it twice this year (liked it the first time, LOVED it the second time)

David Copperfield: my new favourite Dickens. There is a lot of joy and compassion at the heart of this book, and I Loved it very much.

The Mill on the Floss: can’t explain the feeling I got from reading this book (tbh if you know, you know!! It warms your heart but it also makes you want to stand in the rain and cry)

The Queen of Attolia: a roller coaster. Very overwhelming. Was incredibly Shocked many times. (Also, who’d have thought?? Gen??? In LOVE??? Fantastic in concept and in execution)

The Adventures of Sally: a new favourite Wodehouse. You will laugh so hard tears will spring to your eyes.

Night Watch: this one stuck a knife in me and twisted..... but in a good way.

Anne of the Island: much-needed comfort read!!!

Leave it to Psmith: another new favourite Wodehouse. Modern rom-coms wish they could do rom-com like Psmith, Eve, and the umbrella that was Definitely Not His.

The Penderwicks at Point Mouette: A DELIGHT (speechless!!)

The Penderwicks on Gardam Street: ALSO A DELIGHT (still speechless!!)

2. Best sequel you have read in 2021 so far?

Ohohoho. All the Discworld sequels. (Especially A Hat Full of Sky, Night Watch, Thud!, I Shall Wear Midnight.)

Also, The Queen of Attolia. That book decimated me. Admittedly no one’s emotions are very stable at two in the morning, but I was an absolute Wreck that night (morning?).

3. A new release you want to check out?

I am behind on the times so my idea of ‘new’ is rather skewed.... I still really want to read Spin the Dawn, The Goblin Emperor, and Spinning Silver. And am making my way through Queen’s Thief.

4. Most anticipated book release of the second half of the year?

I... don’t follow new releases that much, to be honest. I am currently looking through the lists and don’t see anything I recognise s;lfdjsdlk;

5. Biggest disappointment?

The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I knew how it was going end, but i was still mad. (These days I like books with a hefty amount of Hope and that one.... definitely did not have that.) I also read Tess of the d’Urbervilles for the first time and remember being just... really frustrated with all the characters and about the lack of Hope in that one, too. I was also hoping to love I Capture the Castle and was a bit grumpy about the second half of the book!!

6. Biggest surprise?

The books I read because my friends loved them!! Such as The Blue Castle (Eden), The Man Born to be King (Magpie), Gourmet Hound (Eden), Queen’s Thief (Fran), Blandings Castle/Psmith (Rebekah), Discworld (I think I started reading it for the first time because of Fran as well)...... I also reread a bunch of old favourites (Lord of the Rings and a few Jane Austens) and they were even better than I remembered!! Which was just wonderful!! (though not very surprising, I guess!!)

7. Favourite new author (either new to you or debut)?

MEGAN WHALEN TURNER. I also have a new appreciation for P.G. Wodehouse (after crashing through all of his Jeeves books and most of the Blandings Castle audiobooks) and Terry Pratchett (after bulldozing through a good number of Discworld books, most of them two or three times) and Georgette Heyer (read my first few Heyers this year and had SUCH a blast).

8. Favourite new fictional crush?

In general: Ik-jun from Hospital Playlist (He’s not from a book sksfjkl ;sdfj k I wanted to mention him because I just love him a Lot)

In terms of books: Sam Vimes (sdlkfjs;kls) and Henry Tilney (I loved him before, but this year cemented him as one of the top, if not The Favourite Austen hero in my heart). I don’t know if Gen counts, because I feel very friendly towards him, and alternate between wanting to make soup for him and wanting to bonk him on the head with a cardboard tube.

Mal (from S&B) had some Really Good lines, too. Especially in the last chapter of Ruin and Rising.

9. Newest favourite character?

A whole PLATOON of them. Sasha and Lysander from @magpie-trove​‘s story, Beatrice and Romeo from @imissthembutitwasntadisaster​‘s story, Emilia and Lily from @itspileofgoodthings​‘s stories, Tiffany Aching, Granny Weatherwax, Helen and Irene and Costis from Queen’s Thief, Dorothea and Maggie from George Eliot’s books, Sally from The Adventures of Sally....

10. A book that made you cry?

Literally cried so many times this year over all sorts of stories. But a few off the top of my head:

The Penderwicks (all of them): cried from sheer joy!!!

Seven for a Secret: there are so many lines in the most recent chapters alone that brought tears to my eyes.

The Keys of Fire: which is The definitive Fairy Tail fanfic for me. I just love this story so much. And i was surprised all over again by the forgiveness and the love and the grace and the healing in this story this time around!!

The Queen of Attolia/The King of Attolia: cried out of surprise and joy at nearly all the Gen/Irene scenes (not the beginning ones sl;fksdsdlfk jd but my heart did a great leap when Gen remembers seeing Irene dance)

Ruin and Rising: cried at the ending. Also because I was so happy. (There is no such thing as an ordinary love!!!)

Crooked Kingdom: cried at what Kaz did for Inej (couldn’t help it. That moment was beautiful)

(It has been quite an emotional year. The waterworks are triggered by the smallest things. But I’m happy to say that I’ve cried out of happiness mostly in the book department.)

11. A book that made you happy?

(Nearly all of them tbh!!! I have so many new favourite books from this year’s reading list alone!!!)

The Penderwicks series. Was in bliss for the whole week. I was also incredibly happy listening to the Discworld audiobooks, and reading new installments of Emilia and Seven for a Secret and The Stars Hold No Part In This!!! All the Wodehouse and Heyer books I read were delightful.... David Copperfield was so full of joy and grace and it made me want to prance in a field. All of the Anne books I reread were comfort reads. And of course The Keys of Fire, which kept me smiling for hours: I feel like a kid being handed an ice cream cone with three scoops and a cherry on top whenever I read it. Incredibly happy.

12. Most beautiful book you have bought or received this year?

The second-hand Vintage Classics Jane Austens!! :’) especially Northanger Abbey, which was in Excellent condition. Very floppy (unlike the longer Austens..... alas for Mansfield Park, which is harder to flip through) and fits comfortably in my hands.

And the Tundra Classics edition of Anne of the Island. (I liked the way the paper felt and the text was a really nice font and size!)

13. What book do you need to read by the end of the year?

OOH TONS. I’m still reading Anna Karenina (stopped because I thought: I need a happy story right now). Would love to keep reading Queen’s Thief (I’m taking it slow because they’re books that should be savoured), make some headway in Dorothy Sayers’s Lord Peter Wimsey books, read more Georgette Heyer, start on The Goblin Emperor and a Bunch of books I've been meaning to read for a while (The Eagle of the Ninth, Piranesi, Phantom of the Opera, Surprised by Joy, Crime and Punishment, War and Peace are the main ones. This is an ambitious list but I’d like to read at least two of them before the year is out sl;kffdksl;dfjslk;)

tagging: @imissthembutitwasntadisaster​ @soldier-poet-king​ @septembersung​ @lady-merian​ @called-kept​ if you would like to!! And YOU, if you think it looks fun and want to give it a try!! :D

[fafulous]

Take Me Home (4/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Chapter Warnings: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS (BOOK Ending), Reminiscing the Loss of a loved one.

Andy soon came to realise that walking out on you was never ever really a solution. In reality he knew with his current state, without you he was doomed.

He needed you because he has no one. He needed you because it was his chance at something new; something no one would understand.

He needs you because in between all those shenanigans in these few months, he was falling hard for you.

But he did what he had to that day because he just wanted some space. In his head it seemed to be fine, but alas it hurt like a bitch.

On the other hand, Nikolai had no idea what was going on. It only took him minutes to fall in love with his new room. The lights, the colour of the room made him so jubilant, later on only to see you a bit unhappy. You were able to deflect from your son’s questions, but how on earth were you going to tell him that Andy won’t be meeting him anymore.

It hurt. So hard. All you needed was one conversation with him to settle things away but he wanted his space and so you half heartedly respected it.

Nikolai on the other hand was hitting a real low seeing you unhappy the whole day sporting stuffy red eyes. Like any other kid, Nikolai jumped to the conclusion that their mother is crying because she got a boo-boo or lost her favourite toy.

But that little brain of his pieced it slowly once he realised Andy never visited them for any of the dinner nights.

“Mommy pwese don’t cwy” his nimble fingers wiping your fat tears rolling down your cheek.

“I know peaches. I’m trying so hard to get Andy back okay. I’m sorry for crying around you like this baby.”

“B-but Wandi pwomised he neva gonna hurt you mommi…”

“Oh Niko,” you wiped the cookie crumbs around his tiny lips, “Your little brain won’t get it. It’s okay.”

“No. Not owkay. Wandi hurt you. Wandi bad. I don’t wike Wandi cahr now.”

You couldn’t help but surpass a giggle. “Niko. Andy is never bad. Never. He is just feeling sad and lonely. We just need to tell him we have him and love him okay?”

Love? Too soon. Maybe it’s more than like but it was too late to change it for your son and for yourself. You always saw how Niko’s eyes sparkled whenever Andy was around; he was soon accepting him to be a member of the household.

“Owkay,” he dug his head to your neck, “I wike Wandi and his cahr.”

–

The following week were hard for you and him. From sharing couches to kisses, now the only thing you both shared were small talks.

Yes. Small Talk. Or texts rather.

Andy told you he finally found a therapist to speak to and slowly expressed his wish to still visit Nikolai till you both figured out what was happening between you two.

Why did this have to get so complicated?

You on the other hand replied he was free to do so because to be real, the little kid missed him too. So, the next day he asked you for permission if he could take Nikolai on a car drive.

You had no idea what would go on in his head at times. From seeing Andy’s perspective, he was denied of the choice of telling you his story. It was his fucked-up childhood, his story that he wanted to tell you. Not a pity tatter-tale gossip story that was to be heard from your characterless, ex-husband.

Andy later in the evening sent a message that he was ready, and you saw the man your heart so longed for.

His eyes were back to being sunken, those blue irises not having the guts to meet yours. His hair was ruffled like he just woke up from a nap. Looking at him made you realise how much your hands were twitching to just hug him. You were reminded of the first night you spent at his house; that blue sweater he gave you while you two made out on his couch for the first time was now worn by him.

You walked towards him as you held Nikolai’s convertible baby seat to be fixed in his car and he was kind enough to open the door for you.

Andy on the other hand knew he had to- no, wanted to strike a conversation with you; but didn’t know what to say.

Hey long time huh?

Y/N. Hey, how are you?

Hey listen…

Nope nothing came out of his mouth while you fixed the seat.

He took in your appearance too; that ray of sunshine that beamed from your smile was non-existent; replaced with a forlorn look that he hated to see on you. The past few days were definitely much harsher on you than it was for him. Andy knew he couldn’t get any more foolish. He had to get back to what you two had before.

He needed it.

“Have we gone back to square one? Because of what? My ex-husband?”

Andy came out of his tiny reverie and focussed back on you. He didn’t pay attention, but he did realise you said something bitter that meant to sting him.

“Honey listen-”

“Oh, don’t you honey me Andy. How could you? How could you be so- so-“ you tried so hard to not break into a stream of tears.

How could you be so hateful to yourself Andy? Did you not trust me?

“How could you just desert me like that? D-did you think I was going to throw away my second chance at life for something you father did? Did you want to throw away your second chance at life because of your father who has no role in our lives right now?”

He sighed dejectedly, disappointed with himself. Hearing your voice break wrecked him, “I know Y/N. I was an asshole that day, leaving you without an explanation.” He found himself taking steps towards you and cupping your cheek, tilting his forehead onto yours, “I am so sorry hon- Y/N. I am sorry.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him, his eyes still closed; now content that he and you could just touch each other after a very long time.

Any other situation, you wouldn’t let a man walkover you so easily after fucking up. But this was Andy. The man who made you believe in second chances. You gave him a first chance already, and now it was again your turn to give him one more.

“You weren’t an asshole Andy,” you held on to his hands, “Its just, I don’t know…”

“I know you know exactly what you want to say Y/N. Just say it.”

You could hear Nikolai running around his circles with his unicorn plush doll behind you, “I was angry when you left, but at the same time I tried to understand your point of view, your emotions and your feelings about this whole situation. But I think or- or I know that I didn’t deserve to be ghosted like that Andy, because I liked you for you, not what your father did, especially when we had something so good going on.”

He removed his hand from your cheeks and looked down like a disappointed child. He knew he was at fault and so he didn’t say anything; head hung in shame looking at the little, carefree boy that he loved so dearly.

“It’s only had if you want it to be,”

“What do you mean?”

You saw a glint of that eagerness that Andy always had with you before, “I told that we had something good going on? It’s only had if you want it to be…“

Andy took some time to find his words. Again. It was the second time he fucked up so bad and here you were, taking him back even after he exploded like a mine. Was this woman for real?

“Of course, I want this honey. I always want us. You’re always so good to me.”

He reached out to graze your cheeks, but he was blocked by your squealing son.

“Cahr Wandi! Can we gooo?”

You were surprised that you weren’t interrupted by your son sooner, but nevertheless your son’s new founded patience was found to be a blessing in disguise.

The cutest sight unfurled before you as Andy made grabby hands at your son, only for the latter to be scooped into Andy’s arms like a cocoon.

“Come on Y/N, join us wont you? For a drive?”

You shook your head, “I think I’ll pass.”

“Y/N. I want to really make it up to you. Like real time. Please come with us?”

“I know Andy, but who will make dinner if I come along with you boys?”

Andy slowly grinned at your implications. He never ceased to be impressed by your gracious generosity and the small acts of kindness.

“I’m not mad, not as much as I was before I promise,” you dared to but tiptoed to place a kiss on his cheek, “We can talk over dinner today.” You saw how his cheek sported a cherry red tint, slowly creeping up till his ear. A teenager in a old man’s body.

“Peaches,” you turned to your son right now jumped into Andy’s arms, nuzzling his face in that soft sweater, “Be good and behave okay peaches? Don’t trouble Wandi- I mean Andy for anything on the way okay?”

Everything drowned inside a chorus of laughter when Andy realised how you had called his name. Niko had no idea what the humour was for but joined the chorus when he found his two most favourite people in the world giggling.

Were you forgoing all that pent-up sadness that this man gave you this week? Yes. Yes you were.

And you would soon realise that it was the best decision you made.

Hours passed by and the boys came back home. Nikolai was gleefully pulling onto Andy’s beard and curiously asking him when he was going to get a ‘bweard’ like him and heard both the boys animatedly inhaling; the smell of aromatic food that stirring their tummies.

“MOMMY IS MAKING PAWSTAHH!”

Andy was so confused. You always made the best Italian food for your child.

“Let’s just say after that episode we had with Chad, I was cooking boring greens and ordering takeout for the little one and me. I lost the will to cook. Thought I’ll revive the poor kid’s taste buds.”

It was always these small gestures that pulled you towards Andy; like this one. He tugged you by your shoulders and placed a soft kiss on your forehead and then cupped your cheeks so lovingly.

“Sorry Momma bear.”

“Shhh. It’s okay grumpy cat,” you winked.

Dinner on the other hand did go relatively smooth than you expected it to. Andy explained himself, his feelings and what he felt that day when he left you and tried his level best to process your emotional state that day.

The baked pasta was licked clean by your two boys and you while Andy also spoke about his past few days with his therapist, who seemed to help him more than he possibly could ever think of. Over a glass of wine, Andy held your hand promising you that he wouldn’t do any more foolish stunts that ended up hurting all of us in the process.

But as you and Andy were doing and drying the dishes, you felt that he was holding back something.

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing.”

“That thing you used to do when I used to pick movies that you don’t like.”

His grin could make your whole body mushy and soft like a teenager having their first crush “So? Is that my fault honey?” he feigned hurt, glad that he could now call you back with his favourite sweet name.

“Nah,” you playfully tapped his shoulder. “You give me that look so prominently so that I understand that you want something from me, or you want me to do something for you.”

Andy looked so lost and you knew something was biting his thoughts because he enjoyed doing domestic chores with you; his favourite being you washing the dishes and him drying them out and keeping them inside the cupboards. He didn’t reply until the last wine glass was kept inside the cabinet

“It’s just-” hesitated Andy. You waited patiently for him to find his words.

“It’s about Jacob.”

“Oh.”

For a startling few seconds, you held your breath; thinking about Andy’s son was something wrecked your thoughts and heart every single time.

“My therapist says that I haven’t, you know, fully processed Jacob’s death. Like I’m holding on to something. But parents don’t, right? They can’t move on from their child’s death right? It’s practically impossible.”

You weren’t sure what to say but you nodded, gripping on to his arm and gesturing to sit with you to the couch where little Niko dozed off with two of his stuffed dolls clenched in his hand.

“But she did say one statement that made sense to me, I don’t know. It made sense about how we can’t forget our children who are no longer with us but we can learn to accept the fact that they are no longer with us.”

Oh bub, how much have you been through? “Do you agree with this Andy?” You asked him to keep yourself strong during this conversation for him, and you did.

“Of course, yeah. Maybe. But the thing is I think I haven’t accepted it honey.”

You took both of his hands and squeezed reassuringly, “I have no idea what you are going through bub but I’m glad you are talking to me about this. Take your time; its going to be hard, but I’m right here okay? Whatever you need, I’ll do within my best ability.”

He hummed, but still hesitant.

“Andy its okay, tell me. Talk to me bub.”

He squeezed your palms even more tightly, turning towards you completely. “C-can I ask you a favour? I mean you can say no, I will understand.”

I’m ready to give you all the happiness in the world to you bubba. “Anything for you Andy? Tell me now.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, but instead shifting his focus to trace your knuckles, “My therapist told me to visit Jacob’s grave whenever I was ready, to mourn him, to accept he is no longer with me and you know…talk to him I guess. To process my emotions. And um…Oh god I am a bubbling mess Y/N.”

“Hey its okay baby take your time. There is no pressure.”

“I can’t do this alone honey…I need you there with me. Can you come with me to the graveyard?”

How could you ever say no to this solemn situation?

“Of course, honey. Absolutely anything you need.”

And what seemed like after ages, Andy Barber enveloped you into his signature bear hug. Both of you left a huge sigh of breath, relief washing over that both of you were slowly getting back on track.

Until you heard a rugged whimpers from the little boy beside Andy.

You didn’t want to tell Andy about this, but Nikolai’s nightmares were back and the little boy was finding it difficult to sleep at night. The new nursery still did not work for him, so he ended up sleeping on top of your chest; your heartbeat probably soothing him to sleep.

But Andy the experienced father he was, quickly scooped him into his arms and started cradling him, rocking him side by side with his arms protecting him, humming a familiar soft tune that seemed to calm you in the process too. You saw how Niko’s head was cushioned between Andy’s pecs and muscles, slowly relaxing and nuzzling into his touch.

Niko’s scrunched up face was now back to a peaceful baby lost in slumber. 

Andy met your gaze and blinked at you with a smile and it conveyed so much than you think.

We got this baby. We all gonna get through this.

��

The decision to take Nikolai along with you and Andy was refuted by the latter saying that a young boy like him shouldn’t be visiting such desolate place.

“Children are the embodiment of new birth, new life. And graveyards, quite opposite.”

But you knew secretly he also didn’t was your son to see him in such a vulnerable position. You were grateful for the fact that the rough patch between you and Andy was solved; for the little boy saw Andy as his new father figure with Chad gone away with a new girlfriend.

Talking about Chad, he did not make efforts to meet his son; and you didn’t bother contacting him. Better off without him you wondered.

The drive to Jacob’s grave was a couple of hours away and ride in itself was a quiet one. Andy and you were informally dressed in dull colours, hearts dull too. You knew it was a big step for Andy and you were going to support him till he thinks he is over it. Car windows were rolled down, the fresh air making efforts to refresh you both.

You could also see Andy’s urge to interlink his hands with you while your drove and you did; Gripping onto his palm or occasionally rubbing his shoulders or thighs throughout the ride would help him calm down and relax his creased forehead.

When you both got down from the car it was so hard to read Andy’s thoughts. He came over to you and interlinked your palms and made way to the place where his son was buried.

Jacob’s grave was flowerless when arrived. Andy soon fixed that after leaving a wreath of Jacob’s most favourite flowers, daisies.

A graveyard, a place of death, sprouting trees filled with life here and there. The irony of life.

You didn’t know the boy but the aura of the graveyard, the impersonal feeling towards the dead even though you have no idea who they were beneath the stones made you heart sink. It then came to your senses.

The boy was just fourteen.

Both of you sat down near his grave, not caring about the grass and mud staining your clothes. He finally took away his palms from yours.

Andy spoke some kind words, rekindling memories of his son’s favourite pastime, his favourite stories and one of his embarrassing yet kind-hearted moments. He sought an apology on behalf of his mother, trying to make Jacob understand that his mother loved him so much, that it unfortunately ended tragically.

Another thought popped into your head, how couples these days separate over trivial matters, over materialistic matters, and infidelity. But Andy? He separated because his wife- No no. You didn’t want to complete that thought.

But after a while passed and you decided give Andy some needed space. He was probably going to be anxious, but it was for the best.

“Andy, you feel a bit better?” you whispered.

“You can say probably.”

Here we go. “I’m going to leave you two alone okay?”

“What? Honey. If I can’t-”

“You can Andy. He is your son, remember that. So, don’t hold back. I know you wanted me to be here with you and I did and I’m so proud of you, bubba,” you stroked his hair. “But unintentionally you may be holding back on expressing because I’m here and that’s normal.”

Why are you so good to me?

“I’m just going to be near the parking lot okay? I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him with a peck on his cheek and made your way back.

You shed your tears while you sat inside his car, thinking about the little boy. It was difficult thinking of losing a loved one that you gave birth to. He was too young. Too fucking young.

Oh, this cruel world, how you hated it so immensely right now.

Half hour passed by and you saw Andy making his way towards the car. It was so strange to think of this, but he didn’t look red eye rimmed like you; he looked the same with much more solemnity. He didn’t cry and that slightly bothered you. Maybe you had to accept the fact that different people process emotions differently.

He got into the car and took in your red eyes. He knew you had cried. Seeing you like that made his pull your lips onto his for just a chaste kiss, the first time you two felt each other’s lips after an eon. All he breathed into your lips was that we are going to be okay and drove back home with no word exchanged. For the upcoming hours, the fresh air offered you comfort, drying out those spilt tears along with the lingering touch of his palms; interlinked like their souls.

After coming back, you took advantage of Andy’s silence and maneuvered him to your home. He seated himself on the couch pulling out his phone and wallet from his pants and placed it on the coffee table.; trying to steal a quick nap while you picked up Nikolai from your neighbour Mr. Arthur.

Andy sleeping gave you an immense sense of peace, but for the little boy in your hands; not so much.

“WANDI!!!!”

He groggily woke up thanks to Nikolai running towards him, lying on his chest like he does with you. “Hey buddy.”

“You home yaay!” Probably meant that he was excited to see the man in house like the usual dinner nights. Nikolai calling him and telling he was home pricked him and at the same time felt so right. As cliché as it sounds, he always has heard this quote where Home is never a place with four walls to cover your head; home is where the heart is.

His heart was with you and Nikolai.

After eating Andy, and you began to do your dish washing routine, this time he washing the dishes. He was slow, but that was alright, you had all the time in the world.

Niko on the other hand was singing all the rhymes he learnt from daycare in different pitches, earning a chuckle from the both of you here and there. He was also carelessly playing with Andy’s phone and wallet, both of you seeing that the little boy had dropped all the contents of the wallet on to the floor. Once they were done Andy picked up the falling things patiently without chiding the little one like any other adult would. 

He picked up his Dollar bills, receipts and then a forgotten thin strip of a photo roll.

It was him and Jacob.

The roll had four pictures of him and his son posing for the silliest pictures, the first three with their tongues sticking out in the goofiest angle possible. The last one however was so pure; Andy giving a  forehead kiss to Jacob because he was so proud of his son, remembering he had bagged the highest grade in English that term in school.

Minutes pass and he didn’t notice his waterworks brimming. A blink and they would fall down.

And they did, when he heard Nikolai nudging him by the thigh. “Why you cwyin Wandi?”

That startled you enough to stop whatever it was you were doing and went to see what was happening.

Oh bubba.

You sat near Andy, touching his thigh for comfort while your son got closer to the photo that was in Andy’s slightly quaking hands.

“Who that Wandi?”

“Th-thats my son buddy. His name was Jacob.”

“Can he play with me Wandi?”

Everything just pricked. The boy’s innocent questions and Andy’s realisation of his emotions. This was too much to bear.

“No buddy he can’t-“

A hand around his shoulder, it was you. When he looked up his eyes were blurry from the tears that were falling. He was so upset he didn’t even realise you were next to him. It was you. Only you.

It was then you realised it finally that it hit Andrew that his son was dead.

“You don’t have to answer that Andy. He’s just a kid. It’s okay.”

The little one feeling that he had said something wrong hugged his arms with his little arms. “I’m sowwy Wandi. Don’t cwy.”

“I’m not buddy, I-I’m not.” He reassured the kid, and falsely assuring himself too.

“Wandi, I’m feelin sleepy…” “Yeah, let’s get you to bed buddy,” he cooed with his quivering voice.

“Andy I’ll take him-” But he refused to and took the child. You took a few minutes to pull yourself together after witnessing Andy so vulnerable. Even in these moments, he took care of your son. When you reached the nursery, Andy was whispering a lullaby to a dozed off Niko for a good ten minutes. He even spoke to the little boy, telling him that the measly Audi car painting he did in the room was going to protect him and his nightmares; and the boy believed because Andy said so.

Few minutes later and Andy didn’t refuse to hold back.

“I held Jacob like Nikolai, put him to sleep like Nikolai. My sweet precious baby,  my innocent child Jacob. He didn’t do anything and he is away from me Y/N. Far far away-”

Andy let out a loud whimpering cry, the sound swallowed when he buried his head into your neck and your tears began streaming, him sobbing uncontrollably the next minute.

Andy and your tears began streaming; you pulled yourself together soon but Andy? He was weeping uncontrollably. You only could take him in your arms and offer him comfort. No words could heal his wounds instantly. He buried his face into your neck, his safe place, which made you remember the initial days with Andy when he lent a shoulder when you cried. Now it was your turn.

You whispered in ears how it was best not to do this near Niko and maneuvered Andy to your room. He held onto your arms as you took him to your room. You urged Andy to talk to you if the visit to the grave was still bothering him. He sought recluse in your safe place again, lying down on the bed, head tucked in your neck.

“Andy you can tell me anything. I promise it won’t affect whatever is between us.”

It was too twisted, he was distraught. He ranted about Laurie and how she unravelled into killing her own son. He slipped some details of how Laurie always kept bringing up past incidents of his son to prove that Jacob was the possible killer. He kept blaming himself that he was too weary with Laurie and that he should’ve seen her actions. Your whole body pricked; he was crying as he said all this.

You couldn’t imagine Nikolai and yourself in that situation. It brought tears to you eyes but wiped them off before he could see it. You let him talk as much as he wanted to, calming and soothing Andy in the process, running your fingers through his hair gently. You comforted him as much as you could and kept reminding yourself that this was the first time he came to his senses and realised he was crying out for his dead son; and so you were patient.

“My own wife murdered him Y/N. My Jacob. If I had been more attentive”

“Shhhhh Andy,” you cooed into his ear “Your circumstances were horrible. Don’t blame yourself bubba, none of this was your fault okay? Jacob’s death was out of your hands, it was an unfortunate accident Andy.“

Andy could stay all day in your embrace, his head on your gentle shoulders while your soft hair caresses made him doze off to sleep.

But his head felt like it was going to explode and he couldn’t let you see that.

“I’m going back home honey. I think I need to be alone tonight. I- I am not abandoning you okay, I promise, I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

“Andy are you sure? Stay with me, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I- I think I need to be alone for sometime you know? Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m never ever upset okay? As long as you are sure bubba; whatever you think is best for you okay? This house is always open to you.”

Kisses on the cheek were exchanged before he left your home. But you stayed awake, in the hopes he’ll be back because deep down you knew, he needed you.

You would give him space, and why not?

He was your home.

–

Andy soon realised he couldn’t. Staying alone was the worst decision he made.

Yes he did get the desired space he absolutely needed for like an hour and he did try to cease his crying, but his heart, oh his heart was pounding like nobody’s business. Anxious. Alone. Not cared for.

The walls of his room closed around him, his breathing becoming rugged, the laughter of his dead son echoing in his head. But he remembered he was cared for. By you. He had only you now.

He wanted, needed your soothing embraces, your kind words, your optimism, your affection. Everything.

He just wanted you now.

He had to forget.  It was a bit past midnight, but it was you. His reliable rock; soon to become the love of his life. He had to forget what he was going though and in a moment of desperation, he texted you. His thought was confirmed, you would always be there for him.

—

Last and Final Part 5 on its way :)

[bittydragon]

Costumes and Candy

Notes: I tried super hard to get this out before Halloween was over. I still have 10 minutes where I’m at, so I think I did it. (It may be a bit rushed though, whoops). Thought some cute Halloween shenanigans were in order. Happy Halloween!

“Despite being a borrower, this is still my favorite time of the year. Do you wanna know why~?”

Bad looked over at Skeppy, who was carelessly sitting on the countertop edge swinging his legs. He stared at Skeppy in silence for a few seconds debating on if he really wanted to know the reason. With a sigh of resignation, he gave Skeppy his full attention.

“Don’t make me regret this, Geppy. Why is this your favorite time of the year?” He regretted it as soon as he asked because of the shit-eating grin that appeared on the borrower’s face.

“I can pull so many pranks and humans either blame it on each other or ghosts! Like you did! Except it was not pumpkin day.” Bad groaned and settled his face in his hands. He should have expected an answer like that from the little trickster. It was no surprise to him that Skeppy’s pranks would amplify on the day that was literally made for mischief and scares. Bad himself liked the costume and candy aspect more of Halloween. It was so much fun dressing up as whatever you could think of. And the faces of the kids he handed out candy too every year made his day every single time.

He remembered trick-or-treating back when he was younger. The excitement from the candy surplus he managed to acquire every year was the most amazing feeling in the world. He wanted to spread that joy to any kid he possibly could. So as soon as he had his own home, he always sat outside with a pumpkin basket full of sweets. He had such a reputation around Halloween that even teenagers would come to his house shyly asking for candy themselves. Bad gladly gave in to their requests. Nobody was too old for trick-or-treating in his mind. He would attempt it if he didn’t want to give candy out more.

Suddenly, realization of something else Skeppy had said came to Bad’s mind. “Pumpkin day? Is that what you borrowers call it?” Skeppy stopped swinging his legs and looked up at Bad. Confusion was written all over his face.

“Yea. Pumpkin day. The day where children get into strange outfits to get free candy, where older humans go prank each other and get scared for fun, and where humans put pumpkins with silly pictures on them out in front of their homes. Do humans call it something else?” Skeppy looked confused. Bad just smiled at him. He moved his hands to rest directly below Skeppy and the borrower didn’t hesitate to slide himself into the awaiting hands.

“Us humans actually call this day Halloween. But pumpkin day is actually a good name for it too!” Skeppy smiled up at Bad and let out a short laugh.

“Halloween doesn’t even sound like it means anything! You humans are strange.”

“It’s a long explanation for the name. You’re right, we are pretty strange.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments before an idea popped into Bad’s head.

“Hey, Skeppy? Would you like to participate in a special Halloween tradition of mine later tonight?”

---

George decided very quickly that he was glad Dream was now another one of his roommates. 

They were all putting on the final touches to their costumes (even Dream, he was going to sneak around with them in George’s pocket) when Sapnap decided he wanted to bring a flamethrower with them. A real flamethrower. As a “part of his costume.” Sapnap was going as a werewolf.

He and Dream were both explaining that a flamethrower was a bad idea and that a flamethrower does not go with a werewolf. Sapnap was not pleased with his roommates tag teaming him against his case.

A few hours and a grumpy Sapnap later, they were standing on the porch in their costumes preparing to go out.

Sapnap grumbled to himself as he adjusted the ears on his head, mumbling about how George and Dream were no fun. George was just happy that the chances of arson were lowered. He looked down at his slightly torn shirt to check on Dream in his chest pocket. The small borrower had a small stretch of fabric running over his shoulders, mimicking a cape. Honestly, his vampire costume was rather cute, but George would never say that aloud for his dignity and Dream’s. 

Dream smiled up at him and gave him a thumbs up. George nodded and looked back up to see Sapnap already halfway down the yard. 

“Hurry up! I now know why you’re a zombie!” He shouted, suddenly making a break to the road.

“Oh shut up!” George quickly took off after his friend. He smiled at the laughter coming from his shirt.

A few minutes later, they found themselves standing in front of a small house. It was decorated with a few plastic bats and a few pumpkins were also found on the porch. There was also a familiar man sitting on the porch in the same chair as every year with the same pumpkin basket. George and Sapnap quickly ran up to the man, waving as they did so. 

“BAD!” Bad smiled as he saw two of his closest friends run up to him.

“Hey you muffins! Should have known you two would stop by.” Bad paused to dramatically put his hand over his heart and put on a faux sad face. “But alas, you only want the candy and you no longer care about your good friend Bad!”

A small laugh rang out for a second before cutting off. George nervously brought his hand to his pocket, afraid that Dream just gave himself away. But Bad didn’t look suspicious, only slightly panicked. It was quickly replaced with laughter of his own, which George and Sapnap joined in on.

“Anyways, I am aware you two actually do want candy. Just take some, you know I can’t stop you.” George and Sapanap quickly dug into the bucket and pulled out a few pieces of candy. As soon as Bad looked down when he pulled the bucket back, George slipped a small candy into his pocket.

“By the way Bad, did you seriously dress up as an angel for Halloween?” George lifted an eyebrow at Bad, who just chuckled. “Kinda ironic because you’re pretty much a, y’know-”

“Yea, yea. I know. Thought it would be fun!”

After laughing for a bit, the duo said their goodbyes. As George was turning around, Dream decided to sneak a peek at this ‘Bad’ person. And he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or if there was a tiny devil perched on his shoulder. 

---

“I should have never let this happen.” “Yea, you shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“...This may be more my fault, guys.”

Phil, Techno, and Wilbur watched on as Tommy once again tried to vault himself through the toaster while pretending to be a ghost and while Tubbo kept making attempts at flying by throwing himself off of whatever ledge he could find.

Their costumes were one of the main reasons for this all. Tommy wanted to dress up for this fun holiday and decided a tissue with ripped holes for eyes was perfect. And now that he was a ghost he thought he could phase through walls. He was probably very close to an injury. And Tubbo, with the cute bee outfit Phil put together for him, decided he could fly with the plastic wings on his back. Though, the sugar from the candy wasn’t helping either.

“Wilbur. How were you supposed to know they would be this way on sugar? This isn’t something you said you all had access too, you nerd.” Techno tried looking at Wilbur, who was perched on his shoulder. Wilbur just pat his cheek and redirected his gaze to Tubbo. Techno sighed and put his hand out right as Tubbo jumped again. 

When Tubbo landed in Techno’s hand, he began to pout. Techno ignored this and just sat Tubbo back on the counter with a huff. Tubbo got over it rather quickly and was smiling and running again in a few seconds.

“Guess you got me there, Tech.” Techno smiled.

“Well yea. I’m always right. I’m Technoblade.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw an annoyed Phil walk away from the crime scene. He returned moments later with his signature bucket hat. Wilbur and Techno both gave him a questioning glance, but Phil seemed focused and promptly ignored them.

As soon as Tubbo jumped again, Phil slid his hat under the boy. Tubbo let out a surprised shout when he fell into the hat instead of someone’s hand. Tommy stopped ramming into the toaster as soon as he heard Tubbo’s shout. He didn’t get a moment to react before Phil reached out and swept him into the hat as Tubbo.

Techno and Wilbur both stared in shock at Phil, processing what just happened. The two boys were shouting a storm from the hat, clearly annoyed with their endeavors being interrupted. Phil just stared back at Techno and Wilbur, clearly looking tired and annoyed. 

Wilbur was the first to break. He started laughing, and Techno joined him soon after. Phil smiled at that. At least they found his solution funny. Though, without anything to do, the two young borrowers quickly crashed from their sugar high. They began settling in the bottom of the hat and started to fall asleep.

“I am gladly giving up my hat if those two are sleeping now. That was horrible.” Despite Phil’s words, he looked adoringly at the two boys in his hat.

“Y’know, that one guy definitely had a borrower with him.”

“The devil one?”

“No, the vampire one.”

“Oh, ok.”

Wilbur, Techno, and Phil stared at the two boys who just fell asleep in shock. They didn’t see anyone with a devil or vampire costume. Which meant there were other borrowers who had dressed up and were with other humans.

Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.

For everyone.

[devendrasbeard]

The Goat Is Part Of The Family

Prompt: Meet The Family Relationships: Ciri/Cahir Rating: T Content warnings: Just a slice of life, oh and Lambert being Lambert Summary: Ciri and Cahir are newly engaged, so it's time for the guy to meet her family. He quickly learns Ciri's family is unlike any other. And there's also a goat.

Also on ao3! 

My final prompt! I DID IT FOLKS!

"Hey mom," Ciri put her phone on speaker as they drove through the interstate.

"Hey daughter, grandpa wants to know how far away you are - he and Eskel are too eager to start grilling but they don't want the food to grow cold before you arrive." 

Ciri shot Cahir a questioning look and he quickly checked his watch. "Thirty minutes," he whispered.

"Yeah, we should arrive within half an hour," Ciri smiled at her phone, even though Yennefer couldn't see her. She listened for a moment to the background noises coming through the speaker. "Is there... Did you really invite the whole family over?" she huffed.

"You know that if it were for me, I wouldn't even invite your father," Ciri could exactly imagine that evil grin and raised eyebrow on her mom's face and she was damn sure she's heard Geralt's groan in the background. "Your family has invited themselves over, as soon as they've heard the big news. You better prepare your lover for the goat." With that she hung up.

Cahir gave Ciri a suspicious and only slightly scared look. "Is 'the goat' like your family's code for something?"

"No, unfortunately," Ciri laughed. "It's a literal goat. My uncle owns it."

"I'm both intrigued and scared," Cahir admitted. "I thought I was only going to meet your parents first... As in mom and dad."

"Yeah, I thought so too," Ciri looked out the window. "But alas! You're gonna meet everyone," she slapped her knees, her palms tightening around her thighs for just a second.

"Then walk me through it, is there anything I need to know about anybody before we arrive?"

Ciri looked out the window, worrying her lip between her teeth. A smirk was dancing at the corner of her lips and Cahir noticed that little spark in her eye that always showed up when she was deeply amused but didn't want to admit it. She turned to him after a while and exhaled.

"The only thing you really need to know is that my mom hates hugs and kisses, so don't try that with her. My uncles on the other hand are extremely huggable people, so expect to become a part of a hugging pile as soon as they feel comfortable around you."

Cahir hummed. "I think I can work with this," he smiled.

"Oh, and of course don't put any valuables on the floor or the goat will eat it," Ciri said with an absolutely serious expression. "Last time I was home and Eskel brought her over, she ate my brand new pair of Converse, and I've only put the box on the stairs for a moment to hug Dad!"

Cahir couldn't help but laugh, which earned him a smack on the shoulder. "Okay, It seems that we're here!"

They parked the car and got out, Ciri leading the way to the house. A white haired man, clearly Ciri's dad, leaned out of the kitchen window and waved at them with a slight smile on his lips. "Get in the backyard, everyone's waiting for you there!" he shouted at them.

"Ready?" Ciri asked, grabbing Cahir's hand reassuringly.

"I guess I never will be, so let's just do it."

Ciri opened the little gate to the backyard and they stepped into the garden.

"I swear to god, I'm gonna kill that fucking goat!" A red-haired man, equally red in the face was screaming at a taller, bulkier man. 

"That goat is part of the family, so watch your tongue, you bastard!"

"I'm gonna kill it and I'm gonna cook it! Next week we're gonna eat goat shish-kebabs!"

"Don't you fucking dare!"

Ciri and Cahir stopped in their way and stood dumbfounded in the middle of the garden, watching the two men, Ciri's uncles, fight. The goat's bleating was heard above the men's raised voices. Cahir squeezed Ciri's hand just a little bit tighter.

A man materialised suddenly at Cahir's side, moving smoothly and quietly like a cat, and patted his shoulder. "Welcome to the family, boy. I hope you don't mind people being loud." 

Ciri rolled her eyes and turned to the man, hugging him. Cahir watched him discreetly, noticing his tall muscular physique and the long dark hair and beard, and the tattoos.

"I was hoping that Mom and Dad would be the first ones to introduce themselves to you, but as you have probably noticed, my family is unlike any other," Ciri smiled and introduced the man to Cahir. "This is Aiden. He's married to my uncle - the shorter but definitely louder one."

Aiden shook Cahir's hand and raised a brow at Ciri. "Since I'm married to Lambert, your uncle, this makes me your uncle too, kiddo. Time to call me that too," he pointed finger guns at her and started walking backwards to the garden table. "C'mon kids, let's get you something to drink, you must be thirsty after the trip, and then we can introduce Cahir to the rest of the family." 

As they took the first sips of their cider, a man, seemingly in his late twenties, came out of the house, carrying a big plate of various cakes. His jeans were ridiculously tight and he wore a flowery shirt that had already half of the buttons open.

"Ah kids, finally! I couldn't wait to meet you, Cahir!" the man stretched out his arms to hug both Ciri and Cahir and then he placed kisses on both their foreheads.

"That's uncle Jaskier - definitely the most affectionate one," Ciri winked at Cahir.

"Hey! I hear you call him 'uncle' and he's also only married to your dad's brother," Aiden shouted at them from the snacks table and frowned theatrically.

"Ugh, that's because uncle Jaskier has been around since I was a child," Ciri replied sheepishly. "And you're," she gestured towards Aiden. "Well, you're pretty fresh!"

"He's fresh meat!" The shorter of the quarrelling men shouted to their group, loudly. "As in his meat is-" he got cut off by the other man's big hand on his lips.

"Jaskier, can you please tell your idiot husband to stop fighting with my idiot husband while we're having guests over?" Aiden sighed.

"Excuse me, but in my marriage, I am the idiot husband," Jaskier flicked his hand. "And also, what is today's fight about?"

"Lambert wants to grill Lil' Bleater again," Aiden replied deadpan.

"Same shit different day," Jaskier sighed and turned to Cahir. "Okay, since you've already met the cutest members of the family, besides Ciri of course. Are we doing mom and dad, or dad's crazy brothers?"

Cahir looked even more dumbfounded than in the moment they'd arrived, so he gave Ciri a questioning look. Or maybe a desperate plea for help, since his pupils were unnaturally wide and his eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

Ciri grabbed his hand and moved her lips in a silent "I'm sorry" and then dragged him into the house.

They made their way straight into the kitchen, lured in by delicious smells and the sounds of quiet chatter. The first people Cahir noticed were the two completely different women, who were chopping vegetables for some salads. One of them had deep black hair and was wearing black skinny jeans and a simple white t-shirt, her only jewelry being a thin choker with a purple stone. The other woman had fiery red hair, freckled skin and was wearing a maxi dress with a flowery print and a lot of bracelets.

"Hi everyone!" Ciri shouted, pulling Cahir to her side.

The woman in black nodded at them with a delicate smile from her spot over the kitchen counter. The other one left her stuff immediately and approached them, pulling Cahir into another hug this afternoon. "Ciri has probably told you that her mom hates hugging, but luckily I'm quite the opposite," she laughed.

Ciri rubbed the back of her neck, sending her mom a faint smile and getting a nod of approval in return. "So, this is my mom, Yennefer, and her wife, Triss, and these two grumpy snowmen in the back, these are my Dad and Gramps."

"Hey, I might be old, but I can still hear ya," the older white-haired man pointed his fork at Ciri. "Hello, boy."

The younger of the men stepped closer to them, wiping his hands in a towel. "Hi, Cahir, I'm Geralt. Nice meeting you in person and not seeing you sneak out of Ciri's room while we Face Time," he laughed, stretching his hand out to shake Cahir's.

Ciri suppressed a groan. "For gods' sake, Dad, just once could you not embarrass me on the spot?"

"Not possible." Geralt replied with a grin and returned to his station at the kitchen counter. "Cahir, care to help me and Vesemir with the steaks?"

Cahir felt his cheeks turning redd and he smiled sheepishly at the men. "Guess it's not the right time to tell you I'm a vegetarian?" he said quietly.

"There's room for everyone in the family," he heard a low, rumbling voice coming from the back door. One of the men who were quarreling earlier entered the kitchen, taking up almost all the free space. He was tall, bulky and would've looked threatening if it wasn't for the soft eyes and the baby goat cradled in his arms. "I hope you like goat cheese, though, 'cause we have a lot of that," he laughed.

Ciri gave up on trying to pretend that any of her family members were normal, letting her arms drop to the sides. She motioned towards the man with a smile and he approached her and hugged her awkwardly while also trying not to drop the goat. "Yes, this is my uncle Eskel and his baby goat, Lil' Bleater. He, obviously, owns a goat farm and is married to Jaskier."

"Hi," Cahir waved at him, laughing at the way the goat stayed cradled in Eskel's arms like a baby, but also silently admiring the man's strength and posture. "I love the goat," he added.

"Great, you're already one of my favourite family members." Eskel smiled.

"Okay, get that dirty baby out of the kitchen," Yennefer let out an annoyed huff and ushered them all out into the backyard. "I don't want her eating up all the apple pie again."

"Yeah, bring her back here, you fucking coward!" the red-haired man shouted at Eskel, clicking theatrically with the grilling pliers. "Asshole ate up all my bacon and broke half a dozen of my beer bottles," he complained while approaching Ciri and Cahir. "And this bastard still keeps defending her, can you believe?"

Ciri threw her head back in laughter and turned to Cahir with a theatrical whisper, "Final family member to introduce - uncle Lambert. He taught me all the cuss words I know," she added with a grin.

"And did a fucking good job while at it," Lambert laughed, shaking Cahir's hand firmly. "Alright, let's start eating, before the fucking omnivore wreaks even more havoc. C'mon, kids!"

Later that evening, with their bellies full of delicious food and eyes still prickling from tears of mirth, Ciri and Cahir snuck out to her room upstairs. They sat on her bed - or rather Cahir did, while Ciri plopped on her back with a resigned huff. 

"Okay, so this is my crazy family. You sure you still wanna marry me?" she asked with a cocky smile. She tried to play it cool, but a flicker of doubt was seen in her eyes.

Cahir cradled her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Of course, stupid. What you have is so different from what I had, being just me and my mom for the most of our lives... So this is totally new but so exciting. I can see your family loves you and they all have each other's backs. Even the uncles that have different views on the goat issue."

Ciri laughed and sat up. "So we're doing this?"

"We're definitely doing this. But I will have to think of a way to keep the goat out of our house. Don't tell Eskel."

------

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[letsperaltiago]

a merry little christmas

Welcome to (once again belated) door four of four! 

Behind my Christmas calendar’s fourth door is a... baby’s first christmas, pure fluff oneshot ♥️ 

Summary: It's Baby's First Christmas and Jake and Amy are taking it all in - both presents and tiny surprises from their son. Pure domestic fluff for days.

Rating: G

Words: 2.2k

Read on AO3 here

Right then and there keeping a straight face, or just anything that looks somewhat close to it, is beyond impossible.

It’s Christmas morning, six AM to be more precise, and the still rather new, little family of three is slowly making their way through the presents waiting for them under this years’ Christmas tree. As a matter of fact, it’s rather Jake opening gifts meanwhile Amy is on the couch with their two-month-old son eating his second breakfast - that is if his previous meal at three AM can be considered breakfast. Jake likes to call those meals Midnight Mac Snacks.

“They really need to communicate more,” Amy chuckles, which causes her chest to jolt just the tiniest bit, alas apparently enough that it earns her a grumpy little cry from Mac to which she immediately reacts by stroking and repositioning the tiny infant’s head. “No need to complain, Mr. Mac. Mommy and daddy are just having some fun.”

“He’s bitter because all he got for Christmas is ‘Baby’s first Christmas’-ornaments.” Jake hasn’t stopped laughing since he opened the third ornament, from auntie Roro, which came after uncle Charles’ ornament. Upon unpacking this second ornament, from Charles, matching the first ornament from Holt, it didn’t cause much worry. The new parents simply saw it as a matching coincidence and they’d just keep both. Although upon unpacking a third one, they should’ve known: it was a perfect, hilarious 99th precinct-disaster.

Fast forward to present time, Jake is sat on the living room floor with not three but six ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornaments for his son. Sure, they’re all different styles and designs but Jake can’t help but laugh. In retrospect, he and Amy had told the squad that baby Mac didn’t need anything grand for Christmas as he was still so small and had everything he needed so far. They told their friends to save the money and spoil Mac for next Christmas, a Christmas he’d understand much better than the current. Turns out great minds think alike and everyone’s creative take on Mac’s gift had been the same.

“It’s kind of cute that they all had the same idea.” Mac has gone back to quietly suckling on Amy’s breast, allowing her time to chime in on perhaps this Christmas’ funniest moment yet. It’s too soon to declare it the funniest as they’re headed to a huge Santiago Christmas-dinner in the evening and anything can happen there.

For Christmas morning though they very early on, already before Amy gave birth, decided to stay home as they knew it’s what they’d prefer with their very new son. Sitting there, in the moment, looking at gifts from their incredible friends and Mac quietly eating in the lights coming from the Christmas tree, they’re both thankful to have made that choice. Sure, Santiago-Christmas morning was an event that you didn’t want to miss out on but this year, with very few hours of sleep behind them and vomit on both clothes and hair, it’s nice to be able to soak in the sweet surrender of their little trinity.

“We do have the best friends.” He picks up the ornaments, hanging them on his fingers to put on display for his wife. “What do we do with these?” A sheepish smile replaces the goofy grin from before.

“I don’t know…”

The doubt on Amy’s face, biting her lip, thinking hard, is clear as day which is understandable since Jake himself doesn’t hold the answer for their little dilemma. Giving them back to their respective giver is not an option - what would Holt do with a ‘Baby’s First Christmas Ornament’? -  and getting a refund also seems too cold. Fact is that each of their friends has had the same idea: they wanted to mark and somehow be a part of Mac’s first Christmas. Jake and Amy can’t, nor want to, take that away from their son nor their friends. All in all, there seems to be no good solution but one: keep all six ornaments.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake cocks an eyebrow, implicitly suggesting what his wife is already thinking.

“If you’re thinking that we should keep them all and put them on the tree, then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking.”

At just the right time, almost as if he’s agreeing, Mac lets go of his mom’s nipple before letting out a small, hazy gurgling sound. A sound he’s never made before. Both parents freeze on the spot, forgetting all and everything about the ornament-issue.

“Did you hear that?” Amy asks, making it sound as if she doesn’t believe her ears and a second opinion is needed. Having studied all and everything for her first child’s arrival, everything this could possibly imply, Amy shouldn’t be surprised that her two-month-old is finally introducing his first small noises. The fact resides very clearly on the Milestones to Expect-index, page 2, in her ‘Two month’-binder. Yet here she is, Jake right there with her, surprised by this new accomplishment of her newborn - one of many accomplishments that she both loves and, even two months in, still is a bit nervous about discovering as she just rather know her baby fully by heart already. On those occasions where Mac’s changing, something she swears happens daily, makes her feel uneasy as if she doesn’t know him at all, she holds onto Jake’s reasoning: Some tests can’t be studied for.

And no matter how much she hates that fact, Amy knows her husband is right and she does love him for reminding her whenever she happens to fall down a spiral of doubt and frantically tries to grasp for the control that lies within facts, books, and lists.

Jake jumps from his spot on the floor as if it were lava and falls into place beside her on the couch where he can hover over his incredible son.

“I did but I didn’t fully realize where it came from right away, but oh my gosh, Ames! Our son is a genius!”

“Perhaps… Or simply in accordance with average-”

“No, Amy - a genius! Like his parents.”

Her husband looking as if he could burst any second, a firecracker of sorts and there’s no stopping the explosion, Amy hurries to put down her before lifted shirt and places Mac against her shoulder. Here she hopes he can both burp and, hopefully, make another glorious sound for them to be proud of. Jake leans in as though he and Mac are to exchange secrets behind Amy’s back and the milk-drunk infant, unable to control a whole lot, waves around his arm and just so happens to grab Jake’s index finger. During these first two months of Mac’s life, this has happened a few times already, the first time being at the hospital which caused Jake to cry happy tears Still, every single time, Jake feels reaffirmed by the fact that creating this tiny human being is one of his best decisions ever - that and telling Amy Santiago that he wished something could happen between them - romantic stylez.

“C’mon, mister. Show daddy how you talk.” Jake coos even though the little man of the moment seems far from interested in or bothered by his parents’ admiration and swooning over his new talent. His mommy patting his back does feel good though, especially when it helps a burp escape and Jake, of course, has to laugh because Mac is truly and fiercely his son. “Now that’s talking!”

“Not what I had in mind but nice to know he’s burped.” Amy chimes in and replaces the soft patting with small loving strokes, hoping to soothe her boy to sleep as the next step in his ‘eat, burp, sleep’-routine - even if Amy wishes Mac would make another sound. Just to confirm that she wasn’t hallucinating before.

“Make a sound for mommy, baby. Just a tiny one.” Amy takes her turn cooing a plea but it happens to be very much in vain.

“Aaand he’s dozed off,” Jake chuckles quietly whilst using his thumb to caress the tiny fist still wrapped around his index fingers, a fist that doesn’t let go even though the owner is already fast asleep with a mix of drool and milk caught in the corner of the gaping mouth.

“That was fast.”

“I don’t blame him. Life is exhausting.” Jake is carefully pecking his son’s head covered by thing, soft, black hair and even though Mac on her shoulder blocks the view, Amy smiles and wonders how she got to lucky with these two boys.

“Bedtime?” Amy asks, expectant of confirmation of whether or not Mac is far enough gone to be moved without waking up and throwing a tantrum that’ll mean they’ll have to spend another half hour or so lulling him back to sleep.

“I sure wouldn’t mind. I did prepare breakfast though.” It comes out mid-yawn, proving Jake’s point further, as he nods his head in the direction of the pancakes, courtesy of Jake, and hot cocoa, courtesy of the local bakery that has blessed their lives by opening at five AM, waiting for them in the kitchen.

“Not you, silly. McClane. You and I are definitely having that delicious cocoa. The smell of it has been tempting me since I sat down to feed.”

They mostly call him Mac. Mac or a thousand other things like Mr. Mac, Magic Mac, baby, monkey - one time, macadamia nut - and the options are limitless and renewed every day. Jake doesn’t know for sure but this might be the reason why the full name McClane being said, the context being that it’s his son’s name, makes him feel butterflies in his belly.  Either that or because he still can’t believe they named their son that. Perhaps it’s a bit of both reasons.

“Still can’t believe you agreed to that name.”

“Must’ve been a moment of weakness for me. I was pregnant and delusional.”

Amy teases and proceeds to carefully remove sleeping Mac from his spot on her shoulder, relocating him to the safety of her cradling arms.

“Delusional from the incredible round of sexy timez we had just prior to picking his name.”

“Jake,” she scolds as if the sleeping baby, which doesn’t even grasp the concept of speaking yet, were to be scarred by their explicit flirting.

“What?”

Amy’s already up on her feet, heads down the hall and into their bedroom with Jake close on her heels.  “I remember it so vividly.” Jake points to their bed. “We were right here, post incredible sex, and we got talking about baby names because a new suggestion had stroked your mind right before I came in and wooed you with my good, amazingly hot looks.” Amy’s head whips around from where’s she’s just focused on placing Mac in his cradle, double-checking that he’s still asleep, now displaying a cocked brow and overall expression that challenges his recollections of that conclusive night. Defeat hits him and his shoulders drop with a sigh.

“Okay, you were seven months pregnant and going through a particularly horny phase - which I, by the way, loved - and I, being a dutiful husband, couldn’t decline your explicit requests. But I do still stand by the fact that I boinked my way to the name McClane.”

“Oh my god,” Amy groans, partly in reaction to her husband, partly in reaction to her sore back making an appearance when she straightens up from tugging in the baby. “Stop besmearing our child’s name. I can still change my mind.”

“I’m right though.” In the meantime, Jake has approached his wife and wraps his arms around her. Pulling her closer, back to chest, and she instantly relaxes under the pecks he places on her neck. “And it’s an amazing name for an amazing little human.”

They smile in unison as they admire the life they created, carelessly and contently sleeping Christmas morning away, before them. Wrapped up in her husband’s arms and their perfect little son to look at, a fuzzy feeling that is way beyond and greater than happiness flows through Amy’s veins. The pecks to her sweaty and tired-feeling skin pick back up where they left off, systematically and how he knows she likes it, going around her neck and shoulder-area.

“I really wanna give in to how inappropriately horny you’ve suddenly made me, but…” she trails off with a sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about the hot cocoa.” He finishes her sentence and the pecks are replaced by a muffled chuckle that tickles her skin. “It’s okay, Ames. I’m right there with you.”

“Thank God,” she groans.

“Hot cocoa and a Christmas movie we can fall back asleep to?”

This suggestion of Jake’s that will allow Amy to give into her tiredness is what she’s wanted to hear all morning.

“Sounds perfect. Grab the baby monitor?” She turns around to follow him back to their kitchen only to see him already holding the gadget with a tired, knowing smile plastered across his face and to Amy, even with his messy curls and shirt clad with stains of baby-vomit, her husband looks absolutely perfect.

Baby’s First Christmas might just be her favorite Christmas so far.

[mizzztery]

Any original story involving a bored princess and a traveling bard

(Gaz x Zim *cough*)

(Ooh I always wanted to try a royalty au!)

She wasn't exactly the most elegant of women, though she enjoyed a dark dress or two and doing her hair nicely, Gazlene Membrane was rough around the edges to say the least. She wasn't polite, she wasn't graceful and was a secret thrill seeker. Being incurably bored around the castle, she would often sneak out whenever she could to find SOME sort of excitement! More often than not however she was constantly met with disappointment and would return to her home being scolded by her annoying big headed brother about how "dangerous" it was for a princess to wonder outside the castle walls alone.

"Dangerous? Ha yeah right! I wished! Maybe then something exciting would actually happen around here, something to make me actually feel alive" she rambled to herself in the mirror undressing for the day's end.

"Yay I can't wait to go to sleep just to begin the same old boring routine all over again tomorrow" she thought to herself as she got into bed. She tossed and turned unable to truly sleep. She punched her pillow a bunch of times before burying her face in it to scream. She got up and looked out her bedroom window into the starry night sky. "What is the point of all this? What purpose does my life have?" She pondered internally "It's a pretty well lit night...maybe I should just go for a walk...outside the castle walls. It's not like I can sleep anyway" she decided

She braided her hair and dressed in the least formal clothes she owned, a plain black long sleeve shirt and black leggings. She peeked outside her door to see if her father and brother were around. The only ones nearby were the royal guards, and they looked like they were sleeping on the job. "Good thing I'm not a helpless girl or that would be a problem" she thought to herself.

This worked in her favor however and she smirked while she effortlessly left the castle without a problem. She continued her walk actually enjoying the cool night air on her trek, it wasn't the most exciting event but it was serene.

Before she knew it she was long past the castle walls, she turned around to look back at it not really wanting to return, wanting instead to continue forward into the unknown. Leaving behind all the dullness and responsibilities of being royalty.

So she did, she continued forward not knowing where she was going nor did she care. She knew the dangers that awaited her and welcomed them. It would give her a reason to unleash the wicked powers she possessed, an excuse to use her abilities to the fullest without mercy.

"HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING? RELEASE ZIM AT ONCE!"

"What the hell?" She thought to herself. She sprinted forward hoping to catch the action.

In the distance she saw two taller figures beating the hell out of someone. She grinned "Finally!" She laughed. Her eyes glowed red and from her palms purple fire emerged she fired upon the figures engulfing them in flame.

"What the hell? Oh my God! We're on fire! How are we on fire?" They screamed and writhed while the smaller figure they were previously beating upon stood up victoriously

"Ha! See what happens when you mess with Zim? My brilliance will burn you!" He shouted and laughed manically

"Hey! I did that! Not you!" Gaz shouted

"Eeh? Who are you purple female?" He asked

"None of your concern you... Weird green guy?" She asked with a raised brow

"ZIM! I AM ZIM! And I was just ehh waiting to for the right moment to strike! " he retorted before kicking one of the already injured assailants with a grin.

"What are you doing out here Zim? And who are these guys?" She asked

"These two FOOLS were so compelled by my melodies that they felt the need to steal from me, steal my money and talents" he explained proudly with a smug grin.

Gaz rolled her eyes "So you were getting mugged basically?"

"SILENCE! I could ask the same of you... A danity maiden so far from home in the middle of the night DO YOU HAVE BRAIN WORMS? Do you not know of the dangers of this land?" He asked shouting and pointing

Gaz chuckled lightly "I fear not the dangers of this land but they should fear me"

Zim's eyes got wide with wonder "That's a good one" he said and got out a pen and paper seemingly writing down what she said.

"Are you seriously writing down what I just said?" She asked

"YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!" he screamed. "But if you must know I am a wandering bard, I tell tales of bloodshed and war throughout the lands!" He proudly proclaimed

"I didn't ask that... But bloodshed? Tell me more?" She asked with piqued interest.

"First things first uhhh"

"Gaz"

"Gaz come with Zim and I will spend the night showering you with all tales of battle I can muster... For a price of course" he smirked

Alas the sun began to rise and with it Gaz's adventure came to an end. "I'd love to... But I have to get back home now" she grumbled

She started to leave but his hand grabbed hers "WAIT! Don't go yet!" He yelled and narrowly dodged a punch from the grumpy princess

She looked at him impressed that he was able to dodge, she normally never misses. She sighed and looked upon the depressed looking green man in the morning light. She felt intrigued by him and wanted to see him again.

"Meet me here tomorrow night" she ordered

@savythenillerwaffer. Here you go sorry it took so long I just whipped this up real quick hopefully it's not too cheesy. Stopping before it gets even longer! Lmao

[terrm9]

CHAPTER 8 - Closure

Never in her life would Chiara expect to find herself getting ready for engagement party of Harper Emery, of all people. But alas, neither would she think that her biggest accessory to the said party would be a wooden cane and yet here she was.

She felt equally nervous and excited about both, the process of getting ready and also the fact that after almost three months, she was going to spend the whole evening in the company of so many people. Considering the fact that Decembers in Boston were disgustingly cold compared to those back in San Francisco, Chiara decided not to test her own ability to not to freeze in the tiny, back cut out navy blue dress she wanted to wear initially, instead reaching for tight, long sleeved emerald green ones. She also succumbed the idea of wearing a thigh high boots, since she still needed to use a cane in spite of walking steadily. She grabbed the pair of black Doc Martens instead, put her hair into purposefully messy bun and stepped into the living room, where Sienna and Jackie were already waiting for her.

“Look at yourself!” Sienna smiled widely when she first noticed her. “Ready to blow some minds tonight?”

“Please, Sienna,” Chiara laughed shortly. “It just felt nice to put some make up on after such long time.”

“Well, you definitely dress to impress, Chiaris,” Jackie nodded, grinning. “I personally prefer undressing to impress, however. Is Lahela joining us?”

Chiara shook her head, going through her purse once again, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything and without looking up, she shrugged: “He decided to spend tonight with Keiki.”

It was only a half truth. He was spending his night with Keike, but also with Kyra, who wasn’t feeling very well and wouldn’t really enjoy an evening spent at a party. The something going on between Bryce and Kyra, whatever it was, wasn’t exactly top secret, but Chiara knew that Bryce hasn’t told anyone about them yet and she didn’t feel like she should just spill it now.

“Whatever. Aurora is already there and she just texted me saying that the place is full of old doctors and even older teachers, so we really need to hurry up and get drunk with her.”

Sienna grabbed her coat and looked at Chiara, her face concerned.

“Are you sure you want to take the T, Chiara? We can always call a cab.”

“Thanks, Si, but I really want to take the T. I am going back to work in two days, remember? I kinda have to handle the basic life at this point.”

˜

It only took them about 20 minutes to get to the place where the party has been held and it was only when Chiara stepped through the main door that she fully realized that she would probably be meeting Ethan tonight.

Before she could drown herself in the sea of panic, nervousness, doubt and even sadness, she almost got crushed in a hug.

“Chiara, it’s so good to see you! We are all so, so happy that you are getting back!”

Chiara had to take two steps back and blink several times to match the face to the voice and the arms around her.

“Ines,” she smiled wholeheartedly. “I am the happy one. I missed you all. Yep, even you, Zaid,” she laughed as she noticed the older doctor to roll his eyes at the sentimental scene in front of him.

“I haven’t missed you at all, Ray,” he responded without missing a beat. “But I am glad to see that you are doing well.”

He took a sip of his drink and returned to the conversation he had with Ines before and as hard as he tried to look casual, Chiara knew very well that he just told her he actually did miss her.

˜

Ethan Ramsey was sitting at the bar, watching the crowd of people that all came to celebrate the happy couple. He really wanted to go home already, not feeling any of the happy vibes reaching him. The picture of scotch, book and comfort of his bed, was enough for him to dream about leaving, however he couldn’t bring himself to actually do so. It wouldn’t be impolite towards Harper and her fiancé, as he already congratulated them and the speeches were told and nobody really cared about the grumpy doctor at the bar. He stayed because he believed he’d see Chiara somewhere among the crowd, he hoped to at least catch a glimpse of her. Two hours ago, Ethan spotted Dr. Varma dancing with Aurora Emery and so he expected to see Chiara nearby, but two long hours have passed and she was nowhere to be found.

Just as he started to concede the possibility of her not coming to the party, the familiar voice behind his back startled him. He turned around abruptly on his bar stool and suddenly found himself staring in those beautiful green eyes, the eyes that were wide with surprise as they stared back at him.

“Chia- um, Dr. Ray. Nice to see you,” he nodded towards her, remembering her wish to keep things professional.

“Hi, Ethan,” she smiled softly as she grabbed the glass of wine she ordered and his shoulders visibly relaxed when she called him by his first name.

Chiara wished to go home. As happy as she was for Dr. Emery and Mr. Banks, she felt her legs slightly trembling after the pressure she kept putting on them for the last three hours and her head was hurting. Clearly, she was overwhelmed by all the noises and fellow doctors wanting to talk to her and foreign teachers asking her how did she – so young and beautiful – ended up with a cane. All she dreamed about was her bed and medical journal and some lovely, slow, silent music in the background. Sienna promised to take her home anytime she wanted but seeing how much she was enjoying her time with Danny on the dance floor, Chiara couldn’t bring herself to ask her to leave. And so, she decided to at least order a glass of wine and just observe the others from a corner of the room.

The possibility of meeting Ethan at the bar hasn’t crossed her mind even once, when really it was the only place she could imagine him spending the night at.

He looked as handsome as ever and it took Chiara by surprise. She believed she could face him and maintain the cold distance she decided to put between them this time. She wasn’t prepared for him, dressed in black button up shirt and black pants, to look so unfairly awesome.

“You look like you are attending a funeral,” she blurted out, trying to save herself from telling him how attractive he looked.

“I hate parties almost equally much,” Ethan replied, observing her from head to toes, admiring her beauty. Her cheeks were blushed pink, few strands of her hair sticking out of her bun, the dress flattering both, her figure and her complexion.

You look so beautifully alive, Rookie.

“Why are you here then?”

“Because I respect Harper and, as much as it may surprise you, I am sincerely happy for her to find the right man. Well, I would definitely be happier if the amount of “darlings” and “sweethearts” in their speeches was radically decreased, but nonetheless, I am happy for them.”

Chiara, despite trying to keep her expression cool and distant, had to laugh at the dissatisfied expression on his face as he said the words darlings and sweethearts.

“You hate nicknames in relationship. Obviously.”

“Yes, obviously,” he repeated. “I mean, they have their names for a reason.”

“But you call me Rookie,” the pointed out, sipping slowly on her wine.

Ethan’s expression softened immediately, remembering the first time he called her so.

“I called you Rookie on your first day in hospital, because I didn’t know your real name back then. That’s the difference. These two, I mean, Harper and Thomas are pretty decent names, why can’t they just use them?”

Ignoring his rage about Harper and Thomas not using their actual names, Chiara couldn’t help but tease him.

“Yeah, you didn’t know my name back then, but now you do, and you still call me Rookie. So I guess the nicknames are not all that bad.”

His cheeks blushed in dark pink colour as he realized that she was indeed right. He gave her a nickname and they both grew so fond of it, that he didn’t want to stop calling her that.

Clearing his throat, Ethan decided to change the topic before they would tangle themselves too deep in the memories and therefore regrets.

“So, have have you been doing?”

Chiara wasn’t looking at him as she answered: “I like to think that I am doing fine”

“What exactly does that mean?”

She shrugged, not really wanting to elaborate. She only wanted to talk to him about work and the money she owed him, the concept of the “how-has-life-been-lately” talk not fitting into her plan.

“My back doesn’t hurt much anymore, only when I stand for too long or sleep on one side for too long. The legs are fine, except the stability in my left leg – I don’t trust myself with it enough, I guess. That’s why I’ll have to use this little friend of mine-” she chuckled as she lifted her wooden cane up, “-a little bit longer than I initially expected. Other than that, I am totally fine.”

“And the nightmares?” he couldn’t help but ask, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

“Manageable,” Chiara responded way too quickly and before he could accuse her of lying, she changed the topic. “Honestly, I think I should be the one to ask you if you were okay. I mean, this is 16 ounces glass you are holding in your hand and it’s filled with pure liquid. So you’re either drinking insufferably huge amount of vodka or you are drinking water, which in your case, is just as weird. Are you sick or something?”

Ethan couldn’t suppress his laugh anymore, hearing Chiara like that reminding him all the conversations they had while she was in the hospital.

“It’s water, which, for the record, I drink quite often, since as a doctor I know how important it is. And as much as I’d prefer whiskey tonight, I came here by car. Therefore, I just have to stick with the water until I get home.”

Chiara laughed at the tone of his voice, indicating just how very much he already wished to be home with a glass of said whiskey in his hand.

It was Ethan’s turn to observe the crowd, not knowing if Chiara still insisted on keeping their distance or if he could finally talk to her about all those things he wanted to talk to her about.

Chiara’s whole chest was tight, and she felt her heart breaking all over again at the sight of him. She missed him so much and she wanted to forget all the hurt he caused her and all the trust issues she’s had, because this light conversation they just managed to have, that was her relationship with Ethan. Laughs and teasing and caring for each other. For him to hate sweet couple nicknames and for her to tease him about not drinking alcohol in the middle of the party, it simply felt so natural.

This is who we are. This is what we could be if only he could stop leaving me in the dark. If only I could trust him.

The tears threatened to fall out of her eyes and she was thankful for the fact that Ethan wasn’t looking at her. She quickly blinked them away and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you?”

Ethan’s head snapped back at her, his expression surprised and also somehow… pleased?

“You were?”

“I wanted to let you know that I am officially getting back to work on Monday. I missed a lot, so if you have some work for me to catch up, you can send it and I’ll get through everything until then.”

“Please, Chiara,” he smiled softly at her, falling for her even deeper at those words, seeing how dedicated she was. “You’ll catch up just fine on Monday. Enjoy these two free days, the work will wait for you.”

“As you wish,” she shrugged, knowing better than to try to persuade him. “I also wanted to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about the rents you paid for me and as soon as I am back to work, I will pay everything back. Just give me another week or so, please.”

Ethan didn’t want her to pay him back. He didn’t miss the money and the fact that he could do at least something for her made him feel good. But just as Chiara knew about his stubbornness, Ethan knew about hers and so he knew that when Chiara Ray made her mind about something, there was no point in persuading her otherwise.

He was about to nod when he noticed Chiara wincing in pain and gently massaging her lower back.

“So much about no back pains,” he frowned. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“I’d really like to, but I am forbidden to go home without Sienna’s supervision, and she is having such a great time. I don’t want to make her leave, so I guess I’ll just drink wine until she decides to go home.”

“I was about to leave. I can take you,” Ethan offered without a second of hesitation.

She knew she shouldn’t accept. She knew that it was her idea to keep a distance and that stepping into Ethan’s car would ruin her dedication to maintain it. But in this moment, she also knew they both deserved a closure, the talk about them. The talk where both sides could talk and explain.

She hoped for them to be best friends again.

Chiara missed Ethan.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let me just text Sienna. You can go first and I’ll follow you in a few minutes, so that people don’t talk about us leaving together.”

“Please,” he laughed loudly, for the first time in the evening. “People already are talking about us.”

“What?” she gasped, eyes wide with shock.

“I think it started at the softball game, when I’ve gotten a little bit too protective over you. That and the fact that not once in my eleven years at Edenbrook I attended a softball game. Until you asked me to play,” he chuckled, but after a brief moment his expression hardened. “And well, my, uh… breakdown in the E.R. after your accident, my visits by your bedside, I guess all of those things sparked the rumors.”

Not sure if she felt more amused or embarrassed, Chiara sent a quick text to Sienna, explaining that Dr. Terminator would give her a ride home and after putting her phone back to the purse, she grinned at Ethan: “Let’s give them something fresh then, shall we?”

Ethan put his hand at her lower back lightly and with a smug smile on his face lead her out of the party neither of them wanted to attend in the first place.

˜

The car ride was peaceful, Boston streets unusually quiet and empty, fresh snow reflecting the streetlights, making the street look brighter than it really was.

Ethan was being extremely careful to make sure the ride was smooth, not braking abruptly, not taking sharp turns. As okay as Chiara pretended to be, he was a doctor after all, and he knew that dealing with trauma came in waves. That anything could trigger a bad memory back.

His thoughts were disturbed by a sudden cry coming from Chiara’s mouth.

“Ethan, stop!”

He slammed the brakes, sighing with relief when he made sure that there was no car following them, as his sudden braking would definitely cause a crash. He turned to Chiara startled and despite wanting to respect her wishes, he reached for her hand.

“What is it, Chiara?”

“I am sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I just felt like the opposite car was about to crash into us.”

At this point, her whole body was trembling, her breaths short and shallow. She was at the beginning of hyperventilation, her face ghostly pale.

“Just let me park and we can step out of the car, okay? We’ll catch some fresh air and everything will be alright,” Ethan squeezed her hand and slowly pulled out, parking the car by the carb as soon as he could. Turning the engine off, his whole figure turned towards Chiara.

“You haven’t been in car since the accident?”

After taking a few deep breaths to steady her senses, Chiara look at Ethan and with a weak voice, she replied: “Only once, when Bryce drove me home from the hospital. But that was at the noon and I could see the whole car on the opposite side of road. I could see that the car was in its own lane, I could even see the driver. But now it’s night and it’s dark and the only thing I see are the two front lights getting closer and closer and…” she trailed off, not able to finish the sentence as her lower lip was trembling again.

Ethan cupped her cheeks with his hands and with voice so soft it broke her heart, he whispered: “It’s okay, Rookie. You are okay, you are safe. We don’t have to continue, we can just sit in the car until you feel better, okay?”

She nodded, leaning into his touch as she closed her eyes. The comfortable silence in the car was only disturbed by occasional car driving by them and for the first time in almost two weeks, Chiara felt safe.

“I guess we should talk,” she muttered into his hand.

“About work? Because as I said, there’s no need-“

“About us,” she cut him off, straightening on her seat.

Ethan raised his eyebrows in surprise, but soon his expression was utterly vulnerable.

“I would like that very much. Do you want to talk here in the car? Or at your place? Of course we could go to my place, as it provides more privacy, but I am fine with whatever you want. As long as you feel comfortable,” he felt the hotness creeping on his neck, realizing very well how nervous he must’ve sounded.

“Your place sounds fine,” Chiara smiled at him, amused as she, too, realized just how nervous he suddenly was.

˜

As they stepped into Ethan’s apartment, the first thing he made sure of was that Chiara was sitting comfortably on his couch.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

“I’ll have whatever you are having.”

“Uhm, I am not going to have anything, so I recommend you to change your mind.”

“You came home to have scotch.”

“Yes, but that was before I knew that you would join me. I’ll be taking you back home,” he shrugged, pouring himself another glass of water.

“I’ll just take a cab,” she rolled her eyes. “Get us both some good scotch, please.”

“There’s no way I am letting you take a cab,” he shook his head. “I promised you a drive home and I intend to give you that.”

Chiara wanted to fight him, to tell him that she was a big girl and didn’t need to be supervised all the time, but she came here to talk about them and so she let the topic of whiskey go.

“I think it’s rather fair to both of us to know where we stand, now that I’ll be back to work and things will go back to normal.”

Ethan joined her on the couch, his expression thoughtful as he kept looking not at her, rather at the coffee table. He nodded slowly and even though he realized that it was not a gentleman thing to do, he started to speak before she could say anything else.

“I am sorry, Chiara. If I am to tell you only one thing tonight, I want you to know, most of all, that I am truly and infinitely sorry for everything I’ve ever put you through. I am sorry for leaving you when you most needed me, for running away when things got hard, for pushing you away only to pull you closer. I now see just how huge coward, how huge asshole I’ve been all that time. And I know very well that one damn ‘sorry’ doesn’t make up for everything I’ve caused you to feel. But still, I am sorry.”

“You weren’t all that bad, you know,” she grinned. “I have forgiven you a long time ago, Ethan. I don’t hate you, obviously. I am not even angry. And I missed you. I mean, there’s no better target of my teasing than you, old man. What we had, while I was in the hospital, it was more than I’ve ever imagined we could be. Being close friends with internal jokes and deep talks, I miss that, Ethan, but I am so afraid to trust you, because every time things got actually good between us, you’d take a step back. So I need you to tell me what you want and once it’s said Ethan, I need you to stick to your words. No matter what.”

Ethan stood up and started to pace nervously around the living room, preparing himself to tell Chiara everything he wanted to tell her for such a long time.

“Not so long ago I told you that there was no such a thing as unconditional love or soul mates. That I am not capable of love, because I don’t believe in it in the first place. But sweet Lord, seeing you in the I.C.U. after the accident, believing that I would never see your eyes open, that I would never hear you laugh again, it made me think. And as terrible as I am at expressing my emotions and my feelings, I no longer feel that way. I know now that whatever it is that you feel for me, it’s unconditional. It must be, because otherwise you would just give up on me already. And I know that what I feel for you, whatever it is, is unconditional too.”

He took a deep breath and sat back down on the couch next to her, taking her hand into his.

“For a long time I believed that the thing I wanted the most was to have you all to myself. To selfishly call you mine. But now I know that is actually not what I want the most.”

“Oh?” she interrupted him for the first time, her expression visibly pained.

“What I want more than anything in this world is for you to be happy. You deserve the whole world Chiara and you deserve to be happy and nothing else but happy. And I know myself. I am broken man, destroyed one. Cynic. Asshole. Unable to express what he feels, enable to show affection. No matter how much I care for you, there are still men out there, that would be so much better at expressing it. Even though they wouldn’t care as much as I do, they would show you just how much they do. If we were together, we would have to keep our relationship a secret. I wouldn’t be able to take you out for a dinner, to accompany you to the parties as your plus one. You deserve so much better than me, Chiara, and I want you to have the best.”

There was a long pause after that. Chiara was staring at the wall, obviously way too deep in her thoughts, considering everything Ethan has just said. Her brows were furrowed, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress without her mind actually realizing so.

After what felt like forever, she turned to Ethan and looked straight into his eyes.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Ethan. As noble as it is, for you to want me to be happy even if it’s with someone else, if you selfishly want me all for yourself, just say it, damnit. I can decide if that’s what’s best for me.”

The fire in her eyes as she looked at him made Ethan’s throat dry. Before he could compose any meaningful sentence, Chiara added: “But remember, I need you to stand by what you say. I need you to keep your words this time, Ramsey.”

“Well, then I selfishly want you all for myself, Rookie,” he smiled at her, the fact that she didn’t retreat the hand he was holding giving him a tiny bit of hope. “And I wish I could be the one to make you happy.”

“You mean it?”

She wanted to come with a comeback, with response that would break this tense, vulnerable, raw atmosphere, yet she needed him to ensure her that he wouldn’t change his mind in the morning.

“I mean it. With all my heart, if there’s something of it left. I mean it with my whole being, Chiara. If you ever decide to give me, give us, a chance, I promise not to give up on us, not to leave, not to push you back. I can't promise you happily ever after and I can't promise to never disappoint you again, because I likely will disappoint you again. However, I can promise to learn how to change. I promise to work on the relationship harder than I’ve ever worked on my degree.”

They both laughed, knowing that such promise meant more than any other could mean.

“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing that I selfishly want you all to myself too, Dr. Ramsey,” her words almost a whisper as she let them out.

For the first time ever, their lips met in a kiss that didn’t taste like regrets, doubts and sorrow.

For the first time ever they kissed with hope and promises and happiness.

[lunarthedragon]

Demon!Jaskier Part 2

Part 1: here

+++

He had been so many things in his past. So many iterations and forms. So many bodies and lives.

A boy with bones so fragile he needs braces to walk, but who never dies. Never dies. Never dies. His smile bringing joy to his small village.

A girl, deaf, who is shunned by her family but taken in by the sirens that cannot sway her with their songs. She is vengeance on the tide, her hands louder than her tongue.

A man filled with anger - at the world, people, himself - who sets into motion some of the most gruesome wars known to man.

A woman with thunder in her steps, mighty and heroic, wearing armor forged by poor workers and wielding a damaged sword she found lodged in her father’s ribcage.

An elf who slips along the blood-drenched fields, washed with the screams of his people, delivering mercy upon the suffering and as his tears mix with the blood.

So many lives. So many timelines. So many worlds.

Nothing ever looks the same, feels the same, but it is always him-her-they. Returning and returning, wanting to live and learn and grow in a way his brethren refuse to. 

He will be better.

+++

Sometimes, when people want to get at Geralt, they choose the cowardly method of going after his bard. They believe him to be an easier target and hope for an easy prize.

Geralt always worries, even though he never says it. Jaskier can feel it, wafting off of him as he charges into the temporary prison and sees the dead bandits-mercenaries-fools already strewn across the ground.

Over the years the Witcher has learned and accepted that Jaskier has a profound talent for getting into trouble, but also getting out of it.

Still he worries.

Even when he knows of Jaskier’s true nature.

A group of bandits abscond with him to their camp, set to bribe the Witcher.

The night has barely fallen when Jaskier runs into Geralt on his way out of the bandit camp, blood smeared over his hands and face, yet his clothes miraculously untouched.

“Are you okay?” Geralt still demands, reeking of concern.

“They tore one of the buttons out of my doublet. How do you think I am doing?” Jaskier grumbles, ignoring the concern, even though it makes him feel all warm inside. Like the shadows are stretching with a brighter sun. Like some of the darkness boils back.

It is a good warm.

He does not need worrying, though. He does not need rescuing. He has been a damsel before, but he has never been in distress. 

Still... it can be a little nice... on occasion.

+++

Jaskier tells Geralt some of his own stories.

His words have been prettied and empty for so many years, the occasional story bracketed from when “Jaskier” began and the present. 

Now, he tells Geralt anything and everything. Of worlds far beyond his own. Places hidden away unless you know where to look. History long forgotten.

Geralt pretends not to listen, but his awareness is firmly planted on Jaskier when he talks of these things. It appears these stories can even intrigue a grumpy, old Witcher.

“The monsters in your song,” Geralt suddenly cuts in one night when Jaskier is recounting his life as Damalt, a “Wastelander” from far, far away many years ago, where he hunted monsters not unlike a Witcher. “I said they didn’t exist, but...”

The Witcher looked deep in thought and it takes Jaskier a moment to realize he is talking about when they first met. “You were not incorrect,” he assures, smiling, “They do not exist... in this world. Alas, I occasionally get my histories jumbled up when high on adrenaline. Terrible habit, that.”

“It must happen often, then,” Geralt huffs. His pride is wounded. He is meant to be the monster expert, and yet...

“I often call out the wrong name in bed,” Jaskier replies with a shrug.

“That’s hardly terrible,” Geralt’s lips twist and a brow arches.

Jaskier shrugs. “Sure, unless you say it like, ‘G̸͙̅̀Ŕ̸̠̖ḥ̶̀͋h̸̘́K̸̥̇͒̐͛͋͗̏b̶̥͕̠̪͉͛̆ą̶̘͈̟̼̰̟̓̌̀̐T̶̝̠̙̍̽̈́̄̈́C̶̥̫̝͐̄͋́̏̀ḧ̶͍̟̟̠̫̎́̇̈́h̸̬̅́Á̸̬̱͎̗̓̃͂̇͊͠L̴͕̗͛̀̓̔̾̂̈́ͅ.’”

Geralt has leant back as if smacked, his eyes so wide the whites are visible all around his irises, and his mouth is hanging open.

It makes Jaskier laugh for five minutes straight.

+++

He cannot eat salt. It will not kill him, but it causes the closest thing to an allergic reaction in him that he could ever have.

It burns where it touches tongue or skin or organs or bone. He feels it deeper than the flesh, the body, and he writhes, like a black, foaming slug. It makes him screech but no one hears, air running cold until icicles form but no one shivers, a chittering vibration that sets ears bleeding but no one cares.

He cannot eat salt.

+++

The thing in the mansion is ancient. Almost as ancient as him. He can hear it long before the mansion - dilapidated, abandoned, hopeless, taken back by nature - comes into view.

Geralt doesn’t hear it. He keeps walking, looking out for the monster on the contract.

The monster is gone, if it was ever here to begin with. Dead, dead, dead. Like the air and the earth and the sea. Dead but ancient and crawling without moving.

And Geralt doesn’t hear it.

“We shouldn’t go closer,” Jaskier finally says - voice not-quite-right at the edges, like a burning photo - because Geralt knows. Knows what he is. Accepted what he is. It is fine to speak up and protect that which he holds dear. That which he cares for more than he should.

Geralt is looking at him now, confusion in his eyes, and he wishes he could put into words that they need to stay away from that mansion because the thing inside will be the Witcher’s undoing.

He can move on, find a new body, find a new life, but the flesh bodies with the fleshier souls of mortals do not have that privilege. And he quite likes this particular mortal.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asks, voice low, stepping towards Jaskier as if to protect.

“E̴v̵e̶r̴y̷t̵h̷i̶n̴g̸,” his voice twitches around something too big and forces it back down. “It will kill you. You need to get away.”

“Is it a spirit of some kind?” Geralt asks, his face set in concern. Jaskier offers a nod. “Is it like you?” Jaskier opens his mouth to reply and it rushes out.

“Me but not - screaming where I whisper - the fly in your soup the fly on a corpse - bear trap on your leg gnaw it off gnaw it off - viscera from an eye split in half - war as bloody as birth - ”

Geralt grabs ahold of his arms and drags him away, sprinting in the opposite direction as the mansion, and Jaskier has never sensed fear on the Witcher like he does in that moment.

They don’t return to the town they came from. They never completed the contract. There was no monster to kill.

Instead, in complete silence, they make camp and Jaskier curls up tight to Geralt’s side under a thick fur. If he shakes a little, drained from a battle that never happened, Geralt doesn’t say a word and only holds him closer.

+++

Djinn are an ancient spirit as much as Jaskier is. Not horrors, but rather entities. Embodiments. Powerful and feared and unable to flee from the imprisonments of man.

They hate the things that Jaskier is. Envious of him and his brethren. They are not as ancient as he, but they possess powers long forgotten.

Jaskier should have stopped things sooner. “I can’t sleep,” Geralt had said as he fished for a djinn. Jaskier had seen the problem, seen the issue, knew the outcome, and he should have just stepped in forced a stop.

Instead, he tried to talk Geralt down. Claim a lovely cup of chamomile tea with honey and whiskey would do the trick! Perhaps a back rub to sweeten the deal? Just please get away from the water. Please.

It doesn’t work and the jug in Geralt’s hands sends Jaskier into a panic, shooting out to grab ahold of it and tugging. Geralt doesn’t let go. Just glares at him.

“Seriously, Geralt, you’re being ridiculous! This isn’t going to help you. They’ll trick you and put you to sleep for good, never to rise again. How can you not see--”

The jug opens with a “pop!” The engraved lid in Geralt’s hand, jug in Jaskier's, and he can FEEL the energies around them shift. Compress. Tug and squeeze until it is hard for him to breathe.

“Nothing happened,” Geralt growls to himself, looking around, growing more and more frustrated, but Jaskier’s attention is glued to the surface of the lake. There is a shadow there that hasn’t taken form. Watching without eyes. Laughing without lips.

A djinn’s aura is not a scream or a cry. It is a vibration. A roll of thunder and the long, belting roar of a giant.

They stare at each other, through eyes beyond this plain. Eyes that see each other for what they truly are. Wind is picking up, actual wind, the sky darkening, and with the first bolt of lightning the djinn attacks.

He screeches, unholy and enraged, as claws-talons-teeth, dig into the parts of him that go unseen. Black veins form on his body, growing and growing and growing, hands and eyes pitch black as he lashes back. A piece of him catches on a piece of them, rendering-cutting-ripping, until lightning flashes above like a scream. Like a scar.

Black oozes from his mouth with the next clash, veins surging along his face, his stomach, his legs, everywhere. His hands are grasping without moving - so many hands, too many hands - and he tears the djinn in two, flinging it away, but a bolt of lightning like a blade severs an arm. A leg. There’s a hole in his chest that bleeds black.

He hears a voice, deep and frantic in a way he isn’t used to. Terrified. He’s not meant to be terrified. Not for Jaskier. He...

“Stop!” Geralt yells out, loud as the storm, and time holds still. The djinn is still there, present, hovering, deliberating, before it pulls back and away with a thin smile despite having no lips.

Ah. Geralt has the wishes.

Isn’t that lovely?

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, sounding desperate and too close and Jaskier looks to his side to find he is laying on his back and Geralt is kneeling beside him. He looks horrified, his emotions apparently so sudden and strong he is unable to hold them in.

“Hi,” he says, black blood gurgling out with the word, smiling in such a way his dark eyes crinkle. He doesn’t think it puts Geralt at ease, though, with the way he seems to flicker. Stutter. Then lurch forward like he wants to hold Jaskier but stops himself short.

“You’re... you...” Geralt isn’t one for words, but when he does talk he doesn’t usually stutter. Jaskier doesn’t like this.

“Djinn and demons like me do not get along,” he offers. He feels tight in his skin, too much wanting to leak out. To crack more of his skin and ooze free. Fill the air. Fill the world. Fill everything.

He holds it in, but he can feel more of his body turning dark with more and more veins. The hole in his chest hurts.

“Could you pass me my arm and leg, please?” he asks kindly and, apparently too shocked to argue or question, the Witcher lurches sideways to scoop up the severed limbs. He hands them over and Jaskier takes them gratefully, before setting his arm to the bleeding stump.

It stinks, like rotten eggs, and Geralt’s nose wrinkles up but he doesn’t move away. Jaskier wonders if he’s in shock.

The limb knits back onto his body, slower than usual, but not unexpected for a wound like this. He does the same to his leg, pleased to have all four limbs back, less of himself wanting to leak out. He is still covered in black veins, though, with dark eyes.

Still, he turns to Geralt, who looks lost. He reaches out to lay a hand against Geralt’s cheek, the Witcher flinching but then pressing back into his palm. “See? I am fine. Death means very little to me,” he assures, his voice still full, like he has too many teeth-tongues-throats, but far more normal than it once was.

“You have a hole in your chest,” Geralt says lowly, seeming unable to speak much higher. Jaskier tries to think about what this must be like from Geralt’s perspective. His only friend, a demon of unknown power, changing horrifically  and having a fight with an invisible force. Then, being torn apart before his very eyes...

Yes, perhaps this response was a bit more understanding...

“It will heal,” he says, but looks down at the hole, black blood gushing from it still, coating his front and back. He hadn’t gotten that from a bolt of lightning. This was a cursed wound.

Not enough to kill something like him, but enough to be a nuisance.

“I may abandon this body,” he considers aloud, “Find a new host. This will take years to heal.”

“No,” Geralt says suddenly, moving forward and grabbing Jaskier’s shoulders. “No. Tell me how to help. This is my doing--”

“This is not your doing,” Jaskier says, head tilting.

“I should have listened.”

“You should have,” he agrees, “But this is still not your doing.”

“Just...” Geralt looks down and away, avoiding eye contact. Jaskier still tries to catch his gaze anyway. “Tell me what I can do...”

“It is a magical wound,” he begins and brings a hand up to run his knuckles over Geralt’s jaw. It is so close and vulnerable, he can’t help it. “It needs magical treatment so that I might do the rest. I sense a sorceress in Rinde, the next town over. Powerful.”

Geralt looks up, listening intently. His face is set again, under control as it usually is, and his eyes are determined. He nods. “To Rinde,” he says as he stands and carefully urges Jaskier up, too.

There is a sense of vertigo upon standing and the black veins flair, spreading then receding. He feels disoriented, deep to the core. Perhaps the cursed wound was doing more to him than he thought.

“I think...” he begins slowly as Geralt leads him towards Roach, who is far enough away not to be spooked by the fight, but close enough to still be within sight. Geralt has a firm hand on his closest arm and the other arm wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulders, trying to support him.

“I think I need to pass out, now.” And he goes down to the sound of Geralt’s worried exclamation, the world blurring until it is void. It is nothing. It is all.

+++

Definitely gonna make a part 3! Also likely to put them all together, eventually, and put them on Ao3 later! Tell me what y’all think!!

Tagged users that commented on part one: @meody90 @zoeyszone @patrycjami-chan @emthegiantnerd @onelonelyforgottenbiscuit 

[kaydeefalls]

9, 12, 25, 34, and any other you want to answer??

Sweet! Thank you!

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

In TOG, Andy, which is strange for me because she's, you know, the protagonist and stuff. This is not a diss on Andy, who I think is a FANTASTIC character, just one that I can't personally wrap my brain around to write well. The biggest roadblock to me adding more desperately needed Andy/Quynh or Andy/Nile to this fandom is the fact that I cannot get Andy's voice in my head at ALL. No idea why. She's amazing and I love her and I never ever want to write from her POV. (I don't particularly like writing Booker, but not because I find him difficult. He's easy enough to write. I just don't enjoy being in his head.)

For X-Men, Shaw. Fuck that dude. Worst villain ever. Incredibly boring and difficult to write.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

...oh shit, I have no active WIPs right now and I don't know what to say! I mean, I will damn well finish the Poe/Finn soulmark AU, that IS going to happen even if it kills me. But I feel like the past few months have just been me powering through all the looming deadlines and refusing to indulge in any other fic ideas, and now I'm just about over that hump and my brain is an absolute wasteland. I have a few vague ideas knocking around that I'm hoping will come to fruition, but they're still at the fragile don't-look-at-me stage. So! I am super excited to finish my Festivid this weekend so that I can start thinking about WIPs again!

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them! LOL, all the time! For example, I ABSOLUTELY know what the next plot for The Conspirator's Gift (Charles/Erik medieval mystery AU) verse would be, but I will never write it because no one cares except me, and also the entire thing would unfortunately hinge around the reader not knowing Rogue's mutant power so obviously that wouldn't work so much as a mystery anyway, alas. There are also "scenes I never got around to writing" from various fics that play on loop in my brain, because they just didn't fit in and I knew that before I bothered starting them. So, like, I know exactly how Charles/Erik originally hooked up in Boden's Mate well beyond the fragment actually shown in the flashback (along with BUCKETS of CIA backstory with Inception characters). 

For TOG, there are a number of sections in lessons exquisitely crafted that were not from Nicolò's POV, and therefore his perspective was never explained, but 1. that time they died of thirst like 20 mins from an oasis, only Yusuf actually died, Nicolò just pretended to have as well so that he could save face; 2. Nicolò absolutely had sex with Yusuf's ex-twink on the road to Mecca, and probably had a few other one-night stands over the years but was VERY good at hiding them from Quynh and Andy because he's capable of fucking discretion, thank you very much. I also never found a way to include the conversations Yusuf/Nicolò definitely would have had about all their near misses and weird shared connections over the years apart, but like, they definitely talked all that shit through, and Nicolò told him everything about the meeting with Maryam and her son, and Yusuf cringed his way through the conversation about their mutual twink friend Robert-the-physician.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. UGH I'm terrible at picking these things, but this is a kind of silly and overlooked exchange from Travellers from an Antique Land:

"Well, you look damn good for forty," Nile tells her. "Or, you know, three thousand and forty, whatever." Quỳnh laughs at that, the sound bright and sparkling, and it warms something in Nile's chest to have made the boss laugh. "Man, it's weird to think about, though, you know? I'm twenty-six. My body is gonna be twenty-six, forever. I mean, most people would kill to look this good for the rest of their lives, right? But the thought of being a crotchety old lady someday, still stuck in the body of a twenty-something…" Quỳnh regards her thoughtfully. "It's not quite like that. Yes, we grow ancient in our own ways, with the sheer weight of those years of experience. But…" She shrugs. "In another sense, we don't age. Not just in appearance; I mean that our bodies are constantly healing, rejuvenating themselves. It's not that you will always appear to be twenty-six; in a very real way, your body and your mind remain twenty-six. Our brains do not decay with senility. We still learn and adapt with the ease we had at our first deaths. You don't realize," she goes on, somewhat conspiratorially, "how lucky we are that the boys died at the ages they did, and not as younger men. Can you imagine being stuck with twenty-year-old male hormones for the rest of eternity?" This is something Nile genuinely had not considered, and it is absolutely horrifying. "Oh, my God. They would just be fucking all the time." "All the time," Quỳnh agrees, world-weary. "You don't even know. Lykon used to--"

This is kind of a primary thesis I have about how age works for the immortals, though. Like, I find all the takes on how they're grumpy old people in young bodies entertaining, sure, but I genuinely think fundamentally they're not. They are as young as they were when they first died, just with a fuckton more lived experience than your average thirty- or forty-something. Lykon was twenty years old forever with all the godawful hormones that entailed and he would just fuck all the time. This is crucially important information.

[kathyprior4200]

Inside Alastor’s Head (sensitive content warning)

Part 1

 “Use the princess to convince Lucifer to hand over Hell to me. Get to know Charlie and her family, see how this so called Happy Hotel works. I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes it’s actually the Hazbin Hotel. Has a better ring to it, anyway. May as well speed up the process by bringing in Niffty and making grumpy Husk join in. It’ll be everything Charlie’s dreamed of…and when it all blows up in her face, I’ll be enjoying my popcorn.”

 “So Charlie likes music and dancing, too? How marvelous! These hotel residents can enjoy my singing and illusion magic. (They won’t know what’s coming next.)”

 “Who, me? Evil? Why would you think that? It’s totally unlike me to broadcast my massacre of demon citizens who stand in my way. (Except it is.) Man, seeing them running and sacred…reminds me of game I used to hunt when I was alive.”

 “The demon princess wants to redeem sinners. Ha! Probably the silliest claim I’ve ever heard. A nice refresher from the usual grim news on the Picture Show. Her singing was a nice bonus. Oh, the good old days of being on the air…basking in the attention and glory. I told jokes, advertised shows, announced fun events. I even got to report on murders for the news, probably my favorite part. Soooo close to being able to advertise Jambalaya. Several other announcers got the part, so I wore a disguise, snuck in one day and sliced their heads off. Still loved the expressions on their faces. Here in Hell, I have no opponents in the radio business. ”

 “Those overlords look scary and cocky, but they’ve heard the tales of me…they’re scared deep down, for good reason. Sir Pentious didn’t stand a chance when I summoned black tentacles to wrap around him and his ship. Along with my powers, I have shadowy spirits to do my bidding. That’s why you can sometimes see them when I attack. You don’t need brute force and insults to win someone over. All it takes sometimes is some illusions, a little help from the Loa…and just smiling all the way through.”

 “My microphone cane surly comes in handy. It’s what allows me to project events in front of me and broadcast them on the radio. It has a life of its own, but I’m in control, of course. All part of the magic deal with the Loa.”

 “I enjoyed watching the picture show and going to the circus when I was a boy. Watching the animals and the performers was lots of fun. I may have burned down the circus tent after being rejected from a comedian role. But it was only an accident: my fingers slipped when I was getting cigarettes for father. Whenever I got sad, my mother told me “You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” Her motto still rings true to this day.”

 “I enjoyed hunting deer in my human life, yet I also feel some connection to the animal. They’re majestic, agile, and are free to travel pretty much anywhere. Though they’re often attacked by hunting dogs…or in my case, police dogs. The beasts mauled me just before I died. It was back in 1933. Thus, for my so called evil deeds, I arrived down here in Hell. And I gotta say, it’s quite a fun place to be!”

  “Sex and romance don’t interest me. Don’t get me wrong; Charlie is a charming demon belle, and Vaggie is adorable and feisty…but they’re just a means to an end. Maybe I’m too self-absorbed to want to deal with being judged by others. More fun, less responsibilities when you’re on your own. Though, I’ll admit, I did meet a lovely lady in my human life, but, certain circumstances led to a tragic end. Don’t get me started on Angel’s disturbing sexual remarks. That gross stuff makes my skin crawl. (Heh, that stuff bothers me but seeing the blood of my victims does not. Go figure.)”

 “When I smile and touch people, I’m in control. It’s the quickest and obvious way to show my dominance. Frowning shows doubt, weakness, and I can’t afford to appear weak. When other’s try to touch me, it’s always unexpected. I can never tell what it will feel like on me. My space, my rules. Touch me too much, and I hate it. Like when he…my father…did things to me…in front of mom. Abuse, molest, he did it to both of us when the drinks were in his system. You can see why I was shocked and overjoyed when I finally stabbed the life out of him. I fled into the woods in the hours before dawn, the police hot on my tail. Saw the faces of deer before I got shot in the head. The dogs came upon me and…nothing.”

 “I got my love of cooking from my mum. One of her favorite things to make was jambalaya. A tasty cuisine of rice, chicken, sausage, shrimp, a whole bundle of things. She added so much spice to it (and accidentally burned herself making it), it almost killed her. I thought it was fabulous, the heat invigorating to my taste buds. The secret spices she used by accident? Ghost peppers and Wasabi. It reminds me of home in New Orleans…a world of music, daily life, and alas, racism. People who didn’t know me at the radio station, white people and sometimes black people, badmouthing me for my mixed Creole heritage. Once I perfected my shooting with my rifle, well…they got what they deserved in the dead of night.”

 “Ah, I loved the stock market crash of 1929! There were so many orphans, so many kids in distress! Perhaps it made me feel better to know that there were those who had it worse than me. I’ve had my share of bad luck, it was about time for others to experience some of their own.”

 “I sometimes kill people at random, when I’m especially mad. It’s sort of like a game: the more you kill, the more dominant you’ll appear. I’m not fond of killing innocent children or chasing people, I mostly prefer to catch people off guard. To slaughter them behind the curtain, if you will. I would never rape or eat another person…such uncouth, disgusting behavior. Chasing my victims takes too long. Best to go at my own pace and decide their fate for them. But no worries; for women and innocent strangers, I make their deaths as painless as I can. Gotta keep being a gentlemen in some aspects.”

  “Voodoo had been practiced by my ancestors, way back in Africa. I read about the Loas and many of them were just like me: well-dressed, powerful, lovers of food, wine, the good life. From what was passed down to me, I was able to communicate with them. They granted me their powers to use in my afterlife…but only if I was willing to suffer an “early, gruesome death,” along with the loss of a potential lady partner… you know the rest. I know some of the symbols and they provide me with visualization of the spells I want to conjure.”

 “Singing, swing music, the radio, dancing, and dad jokes…those hobbies brought light to my otherwise mundane, grim human life. Even if other people don’t find those jokes funny, I always get a kick out of them. They’re so simple…a basic for any comedian. Though I do wish I knew how to tap dance. Maybe my magic can help me out...”

  Part 2 (Sensitive Content Warning)

 “Hello mortal humans, wherever you may live. For those who may not know me, I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon from Hell. Thank you for tuning in to 66.6FM, the only radio station in Hell and the only one I can talk into in your world.

 You may be thinking, demons aren’t real. Hell and Heaven aren’t real. He’s probably just using a low radio voice for effect. Well in a way I am, (laughs). But I can assure you…I’m very much real, though not really alive anymore. You see, with the help of some imps from Immediate Murder Professionals, my shadow has access to portals from Hell to Earth. He is Rotsala, and he can travel through radios like I can. He’s been lurking everywhere; in your car radios, those alarm clock radios you have in your homes. And recently, (with Vox’s help), he’s figured out how to access online podcasts, if that’s what they’re called. Thanks to him, I’ve gotten updates on your modern world. It’s very strange and very wild…I’ll never really understand it. Mostly because I’m from the early 1900s and I’ve been in Hell for decades.

 Now, if you remember from last time, I discussed my thoughts on the Hazbin Hotel in Hell and Charlie. About how she was a lovely friend and you she would be of great use to me to take her father’s place on the throne. And you got a glimpse of my love of cooking, sewing, singing dancing, along with the obvious killing and eating people part. I could talk for hours about myself, but not this time. On this broadcast, I’m here to talk about all of you.”

 “No, no, no, don’t try and turn the radio off. I have it stuck on full volume, so much that even covering your ears won’t do. You probably already know that I constantly smile to show my dominance and power. Frowning indicates weakness. But…I have learned there are a few exceptions when it comes to showing other emotions. I am…actually upset. Very rarely do you find me in this state. So unless you want my shadow to rip you apart from your insides, I suggest you listen very, very, carefully.”

 “First, let’s discuss this global pandemic that you all are dealing with right now. You refer to it as the corona virus or Covid 19. It seems that everywhere, people are dying right and left as this virus rapidly spreads. Jobs are being lost, entertainment sites shut down, people stuck in their homes for months, wondering if they’ll make it through all this.”

 “I’ll admit, this pandemic is just as entertaining as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. So many orphans, so many hungry people waiting in line for food, or not being able to be with their loved ones. Mostly it’s fun to watch because I’m already dead and I like watching others suffer. (sighs)”

  “But yes, it’s also a mixed bag. When I took a peek at modern New Orleans I was frankly stunned like a deer in the headlights. (audience laughter). How utterly lifeless it was! Bands not playing live anymore, restaurants closed. Even more shocking, Mardi Gras was cancelled! I grew up with the parades and the laughter and music in my previous life. To have all that taken away…I might as well have died sooner. It really is a shame how we take everyday life for granted…we’re not concerned about death or loss until it hits us right in the face. Trust me, I’ve been there. Back when the 1918 Spanish Flu killed my mother. Back when I cried at her gravestone even with a large smile on my face. That day that I lost all sense of humanity and became the demon I was destined to be.”

 “But what of you folks? You wear facemasks every day, you wash your hands, you pray every day that somehow, you and your families and friends and loved ones will get through it in several years. Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t. One good thing about the pandemic: the enforcement of the six foot rule. Social distancing is essential, and I think it should be mandatory in Hell! I hate being tainted and touched, that’s why I wear my gloves all the time. If only Angel Dust had that rule drilled into his head, it would make my afterlife so much easier. I always wash my hands before and after cooking, and especially after getting my victims blood all over them. You should too. Pure common sense. You can never be too clean and careful no matter where you are.  But enough about that.”

  “Hell is being more overpopulated than usual, and now I can see why. Thousands of people dying and being sent down here…I bet that stuffy hothead Stolas is having a party now that he’s not lonely anymore. You all are careless fools. You huddle close together during protests or pool parties or fight each other in grocery stores. All you think about is yourselves, hording toilet paper and food and not thinking of those who might actually need it more than you.”

  “That drama gets old fast, even for me.”

 “Many believe they have their rights taken away just because they can’t go to the Picture Shows anymore. Well let me tell you this: nurses, teachers, policemen, caregivers…they’re all risking their lives on the front line trying to heal others and slow down the spread of the virus. They witness deaths all the time and for every person they don’t manage to save, they feel guilt that will weight them down for weeks, months or even years. And the majority of you laze around, too absorbed in your own worlds to take notice.”

 “Want something to do to cure your agonizing boredom? Well, sadly, killing and cannibalism isn’t recommended as you would put your health at risk. But you can try new recipes at home. Learn how to make classic foods, especially good Creole dishes like Jambalaya. If you can make it better than me and my mother, I’d be impressed but we all know that’s not going to happen. Sing along to some songs. Listen to the radio. Watch some classic musicals.”

“Or for the online folk, watch the Hazbin Hotel! Make art and stories about me torturing my enemies. Laugh at all those who ship me with other characters because we know that I’m not interested in sex and romance. But to be heard…those who attack other people in the fandom over tying me down with Charlie and Angel and whoever else…stop it. Enough is enough. Respect other people’s fan works and let them indulge in their crazy imaginations. I belong to no one and I will befriend and flirt with others however I see fit. “Some asexuals and aromantics can still fall in love and enjoy sex.” Yes, that’s true, but my standards are different. Back to the virus…there are some people that deserve to get sick from it. The whole world could get infected and die but I’ll still be thriving in Hell…provided that I don’t get killed.”

 “I don’t really care about any of you. I’m just here to bring you the harsh truth. Doctors and essential workers are trying their hardest to make sure you all and enjoy your mundane lives. There’s no need to glorify them as heroes either. Just treat them with respect and move on. Patience is a virtue…I know that many of you need to go back to work, but putting others and the community at risk will just create an ongoing vicious cycle of misery. But if you want to expose yourself in the name of “making America great again” or wherever else you are, then be my guest. I’m always up for more prey to hunt down here.”

 “Now, onto the second topic: protests. Believe it or not, I, too, was saddened and shocked by the death of African American mortal George Floyd. He’s up in Heaven, not with me, so don’t fret.”

 “Yes, I’m entertained by the violence, cars setting on fire, the screams and yells, very thrilling! But to be honest, sometimes I feel safer in Hell in comparison to what’s going on in your world…and that’s saying something.”

 “All the riots going on, protesters being sprayed with teargas, being hit with batons. Looting, shooting, all of this madness going on. Charlie says that inside every demon is a rainbow, but I say inside every demon is a lost cause. Perhaps we’re both right. Though they’re may be some good inside everyone, we’re all imperfect lost causes. We’re subject to sin, violence, discrimination, and endless chaos. We are failures. It’s inevitable. There was no hope for me, and now there’s no hope for any of you.”

 “Police brutality needs to end. They are supposed to protect you folk, not use power to push everyone back for no reason. The rioters who looted stores, set cars on fire and put others in danger like that, need to take full responsibility for their actions. They don’t need to unleash their pain and rage onto the city and others. Killing and chaos is my job, no theirs.”

  “Racism, sexism, homophobia, they’ve been around since mankind became civilized. Black Lives do Matter. Those who have been downtrodden, beaten up, pushed to the side like dirt, need to have their voices heard. Otherwise, those in power will keep using and abusing their power and authority until there’s nobody left.”

 “Just take those white police and your president for example. The policeman arresting George Floyd and pressed a knee onto his neck for no apparent reason, other than he was a person of color who so happened to be caught doing something wrong, at least to them. He kept saying “I can’t breathe” and no one stepped in to stop the situation. The policeman was arrested but that’s a mere slap on the wrist in comparison to a life lost. The cops involved need to experience the same fate.”

 “And don’t even get me started on this Trump. A narcissist who sees himself as America’s God and has a cult of brainwashed voters and supporters. One who throws tantrums whenever someone disagrees with him. He sees women as sex objects and minority groups as tools and trash to be disposed of. Tear-gasing innocent protesters while holding a Bible posing for pictures. Satan himself would be shaking his head at this. Life on Earth was Hell for me and apparently it’s gotten even worse.”

 “And not to mention Trump boastfully claiming that he’d unleash vicious dogs and military force on protesters. Only a few people would see that he inadvertently made a reference to when African Americans and ethnically diverse people were attacked by police dogs when protesting and trying to make their lives better. As a biracial French Creole who was mauled to death by dogs, I’m offended and appalled.”  

 “Oh but I’m just a fictional character who can love or hate anybody. I bet I love Trump and Angel and world suffering and sex just because I’m a crazy furry demon. Right? Right?”

 *intense static and screeches*

 “GROW UP. WAKE UP. IF YOU THINK ANY OF THOSE THOUGHTS, THERE’S A SPECIAL CIRCLE IN HELL FOR YOU.”

 (deep breath) “Apologies.”

  “All Lives Matter? Wrong. A pathetic way to derail from the main problem and include white people so they can play the victim. The truth is, no lives matter except my own. Second to my life is my mom, Charlie and her friends. (Except Angel). Charlie’s project of rehabilitating sinners will eventually come to an end when humanity suffers a Greater Depression and all fall down into Hell. I have all of eternity to witness the end.”

  “Onto the last topic. You know that I secretly desire to take over Hell and spread chaos to Earth and Heaven, yes? If Charlie behaves, she’ll get to rule by my side along with Husk, Niffty, Mimzy and Rosie. Will that happen? Who knows? You’ll have to stay tuned for the next episode, if it even comes. (laughs). You’ll never know what happens next, just that everyone enjoyed my jambalaya at the hotel.”

 “Oh dear, did I strike a sensitive nerve? Did that hurt your insides and your mind more than our previous topics? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

 “But have you ever considered any underlying reasons as to why I enjoy spreading chaos and destruction? I may not be God but I do have god-like powers.”

 “The obvious answer? Sheer absolute boredom! I’m always seeking new forms of entertainment to enjoy. And what better way to do that then to watch sinners scream and tremble at my presence? Of course, I would always like my friends to smile and have fun with me, singing dancing, making deals, or whatever.”

 “But let’s say I was God? Why send Exterminators to reap Hell of demons every year. To curb overpopulation, yes, but to also remind demons of their place. God and the angels and the chosen reside in “paradise.” Only those who are fully “good” and devoted to helping others and believing in God can enter. It’s the perfect fear tactic: remind demons that they are lost causes who deserve to suffer and potentially met their end.”

 “Perhaps I do want to help Charlie with the hotel. Not just for entertainment but to introduce her to the way real life works. Seeing others fail will happen no matter what and that will be a pleasing sight. Demons reside in Hell due to the lives they’ve lived before. There’s no undoing what is done. Even if she does manage to redeem a sinner or two, there will always be those who try to claw their way up and then tumble back down to failure. I am a deal-maker, perhaps the most untrustworthy one in Hell. I want to test others, see how powerful and smart they really are.”

 “This all ties in to a larger lesson that is bigger than any of us can comprehend. With the pleasures of drugs, sex, killings and sin, comes the cost of knowing you are seen as outcasts deserving of death by those in the heavens. Whether it’s Angels, Exterminators, Overlords or people in politics and management, the elite have always used power, fear, rules, and any means necessary to keep people in line in the name of “order” and “God’s will.”  Lucifer would explain this better than me as he has centuries of experience. I’m willing to bet that Charlie will learn this the hard way, sending off sinners to “paradise,” only to find that she and her parents are stuck down here forever. Earth is between Heaven and Hell; it is full of good and evil, the sins and freedoms of Hell but also the passiveness and illusions and sheep mentality of Heaven. It’s all too easy to blame others and deny what’s going on around you. Go to Heaven for an enlightened life and forget about the criminals, the homeless, and the misfits below your feet.”

 “Let me tell you what my name means. It means “tormentor,” “avenger.” I’m a seeker of entertainment who loves to torment others to boast my status. But I am also one of vengeance. Retaliation against anyone who takes advantage of others. Those in Heaven, Vox, Valentino, Lucifer, my father, all of those who treated me like dirt for who I was… my magic is there to benefit myself…but it is all used to teach others a deeper lesson in mortality and what one believes.”

 “And me being an anti-hero could somehow lead to my redemption? Ha! No. As long as more episodes don’t come on the air, then I will continue my rampages and broadcasts in Hell. And if anyone lays a hand on me, my mother, or Charlie and my friends, then they will wish they had met their fate from the virus instead.”

 “Agree or disagree with me. I don’t care. Thank you for listening and as always, stay tuned.”

[tempthornton]

😴 - have you ever given up on a blog and regretted it?😘 - what charectors are you currently writing?😫 - do you prefer fluff, angst, or smut?

Okay, time to sit down for a long post, doing these out of order cause... I got a list:

have you ever given up on a blog and regretted it?

I don’t really ‘give up’ on blogs. I might not be active with them, but I never give them up. The few I’ve had to delete were crackpot ideas I didn’t get to really start. I have a lots of characters, but my characters never vanish. I might have someone I wrote about once and three years later I’ll be like ‘oh! I have lore now to back this character up. Part of that is what happened with Temperance. I wanted a witch from Drustvar and started to make her. But then I made another character who took my interest and Temp was put on the side until inspiration hit.

With Shadowlands coming and the fact that Drust magic is necromantic I thought I would mix one of my favorite books series as a child to reinspire me to play Temperance. So far it’s working. It also helps I have some amazing RP friends who want to meet my innocent witch. I find if I have at least a friend or two who want to play with a character the character stays as a more active blog.

do you prefer fluff, angst, or smut?

Ummmm.... All but with different reasons. I love me some good fluff because it helps give my character times to lick their wounds. Angst is fun if I want to torture a character. Like Temperance with her crush on Laurent is all me wanting to have some angst with her, Son’Ispa, and Alexander. As for smut... I have Quin for that. Quin is my hypersexual, bi to pansexual, Dom. He’s just, just the most controlled asshole I have and man he makes writing smut fun. I don’t write smut publically and I’ll only write smut with people I know well. It’s not something I do all the time though since sex gets really boring to write if that’s all you write, but I am always good for some foreplay scenes with him and his soulmate. They are my OTP and I will never change my mind about that.

what characters are you currently writing?

*cracks knuckles cause this is going to take a bit* I play the following characters. Complete with their Tumblr names:

Malura Underchild: @maluraunderchild

Mal is my oldest WoW character, before warcraft, she was a D&D character. Malura is a half high elf Timewalker and she has done everything. The last ten years in game playing her I have had her living with the Forsaken, being a soldier, being a ranger, living with the Tauren, she was a spy, a political manipulator, a leader, and just so much more. She’s really got a lot of baggage but she plays stuff off because if she focuses on it for too long... she realizes just how messed up her life as been. But Mal will always be my main, I might not play her as much, but she’s always in my heart.

Earl Darsa Carrington: @darsacarrington

Darsa is my loud mouth half Gilnean half Lordaeronian noble. More he’s a lord of Lordaeron but his dad’s family is Gilnean. He’s a giant of a man but has a heart of silver. Darsa used to be a drug dealer until a lot of stuff happened, he found out he was a noble woman’s bastard and now has an island outside of Tirisful Glades that lets Forsaken and humans live together. He’s also a monster hunter and wants to give monsters the option of a place to live if they won’t kill people outright.

Duchess Alle Beithloch: @allebeithloch

Alle... oh Alle. Alle is based on the Grimm’s Fairytale ‘Of All Kinds of Fur’, or as I lovingly call her ‘a Lovecraft Disney Princess’. She’s a very careful woman and has her Duchy as a haven for people who can’t fit in with the Alliance. There’s a lot of homebrew lore I use for her and I normally try to warn people before they RP with her. But if you ever need something for a storyline, Alle might have it. Her family specializes in making deals, but everything you ask for will come with a price. It might be as simple as a strand of hair, or your firstborn child, you’re never going to know with this woman. I am not including them separately, but Alle lives with 10+ sayaad who she considers her family. The woman has a soft spot for monsters and demons.

Quin: @subjectragnar

Quin is going to be going through some changes this year. With Shadowlands coming he’s about to find out some stuff about how he was born. Quin was an experiment by a select group of Kirin Tor, the experiment that made him ‘failed’ and as the product of the experiment he was banished and sentenced to death as a baby. His adopted father a then High Elf found him starving in the streets of Dalaran. Quin is something most mages fear though, he’s a black hole for all magics if your skin touches his skin your magic is negated for as long as he is touching you. It’s a big boon for him but he’s always seen it as a curse. Instead of using magic to solve his problems he became an engineer and after some really messed up stuff, Quin also became a serial killer who targets slavers and other horrible people of the world. I always joke Quin is what would happen if Batman and Jigsaw had an anti-magic baby. He’s really on the top of my list as one of my favorite characters though... And he’s half of my favorite OTP with him and his soulmate Alice ( @alas-ward)

Lorcan Beithioch: @lorcanbeithioch

Lorcan is Alle’s distant cousin. Yes they have really similar names, I messed up naming Alle at first and decided when I made some extended family for her that they would have the correct name. Lorcan is my Drustvar witch... the one who distracted me from Temperance. Lorcan is more on the Drust side, he’s paraplegic and uses Drust constructs to walk. He’s a bit of a savage, but his family is all like that. They’re not... normal and are very tribal in their thinking. For the last 100 years, they were preparing for a massive face-off with another family, now that they don’t have to worry about that anymore Lorcan’s clan has been relaxing and trying to reconnect to their noble cousins. Lorcan is also Olivia Lovecraft ( @olivia-lovecraft)’s biological cousin and Lorcan is very devoted to keeping his newfound family safe. This includes his soulmate @vermilion-valentine who is right now a ghost after being murdered in front of him. Lorcan actually feels the pain of her being dead, but he’s working on getting her a new body so they can be together again.

Lord Anthion Soulshade: @anthionsoulshade

Oh Anthion. Okay, Anthion is my grumpy vampire. Unless someone else plays a san’layn or other vampiric creature I normally keep him away from people. He has very limited morals and only cares about a few things. 1. His mate Alle Beithloch. 2. His children Quin and Alice 3...... nothing else. If your character is an enemy of the people he loves, he won’t think twice about trying to hurt people. Hence I keep him away from most RPers. Now, after that disclaimer, Anthion is a massive homebody and a bit of a grump. He’s undead but has a love of beautiful things and loves being around clever people (At least clever people who don’t insult him). He loves to cook, even if he can’t eat and he would be a psychologist in our world. His old experiments were studying the mind and seeing how it could heal or be broken. Now he supports Alle while pretending to be a void elf in the Alliance.

Dr. Carl Krogen: @carlkrogen

Technically one of my ‘newer’ characters Carl is loosely based on the Hellboy character Karl Kroenen. Carl is a relic hunter who is searching for immortality. After the fall of Lordaeroon he had a mental breakdown and started to have horrible survivor’s guilt. Being a skilled doctor he replaced his heart for health reasons and slowly made himself look undead. He’s not actually Forsaken but he looks like one and lives between the factions working for whoever will pay him the best. He’s currently dating Olivia Lovecraft and I am all down for this ship cause romantic immortality is so freaking adorable.

Isola Dia: @goddessinthemachine

Isola’s real name is The Machine. She’s one of Anthion’s experiments who... well her greatest wish was to become a god. She now lives as a living island in an undisclosed location and I originally made her be able to stop Quin if he went off the rails. Well people saved Quin and made him his vigilante self and Machine was given a body that looks like a living person. She’s been using it to travel the world and collect any technology she can so she can integrate it into her larger body. She’s a fun romp into me figuring out how someone would act if they believed they were a god, and Isola also scratches my H.R Giger love... cause she’s basically body and cosmic horror.

Temperance Thornton: @tempthornton

.... I almost forgot to write down Temperance. I don’t think I need to make too many introductions, but, Temperance was me watching Penny Dreadful and saying ‘it would be funny if the demon possessing the girl was just protective but still a monster’. Son’Ispa was made to be Temperance’s ‘guardian’ and I built up a few other cast of characters that might one day get their own blogs. Like Alexander, a void entity stuck in a human body? It just sounds like so much fun to write. I love it when big horrific monsters have to be human. It just makes me smile.

I have a lot of other characters I play, but these are the ones with blogs. I am debating about making Malura’s future boyfriend a blog, but I’m still feeling that out.

((Thanks for the ask @jacobdcheshyre))

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 31

Last time: Roy gave Riza his number, war was hell, and there could only be one Doc. Onwards!

Envy is not happy to change jobs from Doc Marcoh’s waiter to Scar’s maid, cleaning up his latest mess of brain matter. And so much for the guard dog. Or dogs? There’s an empty collar… Riza’s seeing Ed out after tea, when Ed worries about her new job as a hostage she waves it off as a better chance to kill him in his sleep. That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. One message to pass on about Scar being back, and thanks for talking about Ishval, and Ed’s off. Quick, go save your brother from his new admirer! Episode 31 - “The 520 Cens Promise“ Cens? Is that like an Amestris version of a penny, or what? Ed catches up with Al at a clock-fountain, you can tell how much hearing about Ishval got to him when he calls himself “practically a kid”. And it definitely casts a light on Roy’s drive to become the Fuhrer, if it’s really just setting himself up for Mob Justice. Speaking of the future, they talk about their plans after they regain their bodies. Food for Al, of course, he should still be carrying around that “Stuff to Eat” book. Ed claims that he’s been so busy just trying to get his limbs back he hasn’t thought about what comes next. Maybe some courtesy calls NO NO NO NO Leto-damn it, boys! “Let Granny and Teacher know we’re all right”? “They’ve both helped us out so much”? “They’ll be smiling when they see us”?!?! Stop it, you’re signing their death warrants! Oh my Leto stop with the optimism, you are painting great big targets on yourselves for the Irony Gods. Moving on, moving on! Ed talks about his plan to get around Uncle’s Anti-Alchemy Field with Alkahestry, I’m a little concerned about that seeing as Uncle changed his method to counter Scar’s mixed style, but it’s still a starting point. Time to get lessons from a little girl! A little girl who has skipped town, apparently! Doc says she left his house/hospital that morning. Wow, I get that you’re upset Ed, but there’s no need to just hang up on the Doc like that. And people wonder why he’s snippy all the time. Now, how to track down the little princess? It’s not like she has a unique identifier like a foreign animal companion OH WAIT Elsewhere in Central, Havoc gets visited by Breda and a gift of dumbbells, a farewell gift before he gets shipped off to the West. Fuery and Falman catch up as well as the latter goes to drop off a chess board, Falman griping about the cold of the north. I feel ya buddy. Up in Roy’s office Riza stops by as well, to get a few things she forgot but also to tell him about Scar being back and tell him to take care of himself. Then it’s just Roy, on his own in a big empty room. No pawn (what, just because Fuery’s short he gets the pawn?), no bishop (always serious Falman), no rook (stocky Breda), no knight (poor Havoc), and no queen (CAN’T STOP THE SHIP). But don’t count out the wannabe-king just yet! He’s still in play. And so is the Conspiracy, hidden message in the king! Go Falman!

Hey, Ed? You might wanna work on your drawing skills, or at least don’t inflict your own Angry Gremlin art style on a poor panda. At least Al’s there to show people what it actually looks like, but the day goes by and they haven’t gotten anything. Suddenly the Colonel drives by and offers them a ride, as well as any leads on May he finds. Anyways, about that- Leto, watch where you’re driving man! Anyways, about that money that Ed borrowed to panic-call Winry? [Ed]: “You remembered?! C’mon, how much did I borrow, 500 cens?” [Irate!Roy]: “It was 520 cens!” Titledrop! Ha, nice. “I’ll pay you back when you become Fuhrer.” Now he has even more reason to wait why is the music menacing? Seriously, Roy? You’re asking how Ed learned of your ambition to become Fuhrer? It’s not like you’ve kept it a secret. A bit of snarking about paying back pocket change after each time Roy improves the country, seriously though the music is making what I would normally be chuckling at depressing as heck. Stop it. Alright, back to their ro- Person in the room, look out! Wait, who. Oh jeez, it’s Ling’s other bodyguard, uh… *rifles through past posts*. Fu, right! Last we saw he was escorting Ross to Xing. Yeah, so while you were gone a couple of things happened… Really, Roy? One day without your Conspiracy, and you go drinking. I am- [Roy]: “Hey.” [Bar full of ladies]: *turns* [Who dis?]: “It’s Roy! Well I’ll be damned. Long time!” What. Who are you and why are you hugging Roy. What is going on. Riza, Riza I need you to get over here now. Uh anyway, we have a new character in the owner of this ‘establishment’, Madame Christmas. *Sigh* Come on Roy, I know that you and Riza aren’t official, but you just called her your queen! Show some- Oh. OH! The epic plotting music has started up, Roy’s passed a note to the Madame asking for something special. Secret informant group, go! One that has a direct line to General Grumman, no less!

Mid-episode pictures of Roy scowling at his King, and That Ass Kimblee strutting around in his white suit from the intro. Uh oh. Fu is not happy with the bodyguard he left to watch his liege. Lost her arm, Ling got Goth’d, and now moping in a dingy basement. Look dude, with all the foes WHOA nope! No hitting the lady! I get that you’re upset, but she did the best she could! Then it finally sinks in that Lan Fan lost her arm. Wait, what? [Lan Fan]: “Please forgive me, Grandfather.” He’s your grandpa? I thought it was just a teacher/student job, but they’re family? Ouch. Still very upset with you for hitting your granddaughter, dude, not letting you off the hook. But yikes, this has got to cut deep. You leave for half a season, and come back to this. Alright, time for a roadtrip! Lan Fan needs to meet up with Winry in Rush Valley to get her new arm. Or not? Come on gramps, this it not the time for foolish national pride, you can’t just- Oh. Ok yeah, the Goths have seen Lan Fan’s face now and have already threatened harm to Winry unless Ed toes the line. If she patches up one of their foes? It sucks, but they have to find another way. Fu thanks Doc for saving Lan Fan’s life, and I’m sorry this is a touching scene and all but I can’t get over the magically floating cigarette whenever Doc talks. Sweet scene of him blustering and trying to act grumpy and all, but really. That cigarette. Later, ninjas. Gather your strength, save your young lord, and give that old fart back in Xing immortality (again, ruining any chance of Ling advancing, but whatever). Greed? You just take care of Ling’s body until we can kick you out. The Doc’s resting on his couch, now that he can actually use it, thinking about… um. Thinking about a basement operating table with corpses strewn around the room. Um. Whatever THAT was, it’s compared to May and Lan Fan thanking him for his treatment, which he scoffs at. Yikes. His grumpy attitude and self-dismissal make a lot more sense now. Knock at the door, Doc goes to answer- “Uh, g-good evening Dad. Good to see you.” “It’s been awhile, how are you?” This is his family? His ex and son who were in the area and decided to stop by? And for the son to say he plans to become a doctor? To the tune of tinkly music? Yeah, no. I call bullshit. This is some Goth nonsense right here, I’d say a trick of Envy except there are two people so I don’t know how. But no way this is happening, especially after the giant middle finger to the Irony Gods earlier in the episode. Bracing for awfulness! Dude is crying as he gets some cups for coffee, asking God for a break. Just asking to enjoy some time with his family.

Next day in Central, looks like a cell with OH FOR LETO’S SAKE NO. How does Kimblee have that Stone? Wow, really officers? You gave this Blood Knight the most powerful MacGuffin in your setting, and after he did your dirty work you expected him to just hand it over and file a report on the power he once wielded? How have you survived this long? So it seems Kimblee got arrested for their murders, but no one else knew he swallowed the stone so he’s had it since. But if that’s true, why the heck has he just been sitting around in a cell all these years, not even escaping when Mr. Freeze tried to recruit him? He’s being released? Wrath, what are you up to? I can only assume that you knew he at least had a Stone because the Goths spearheaded the whole process, so why keep Kimblee locked up all this time only to release him now? How does this help you? Could be a distraction for the Protagonists, I suppose. Oh! I see it now, it’s for Scar! Throw the murderer of his people and family at him so he stays away from you. Kimblee’s walked out by a grumpy Warden who might as well be talking about his retirement party in three days. Death flags everywhere for this fool. Kimblee’s outside at an open gate, turns around to shake the man’s hand- and Transmute a bomb to his wrist. Leto, that’s- a baby chick? Wow, ok. Strapping a fake bomb to the man, just to see his freakout? You’re an ass. So now that the jerk’s free, he gets waved into a car by a MP who yup is Envy in disguise, here to give Kimblee a job. Marcoh’s gone. Or maybe not? Oh yeah, that missing guard chimera. If Marcoh could transmute living tissue to make a fake body, ala the Ross Deception, then he could have escaped with Scar. So the job’s to kill Scar and retrieve Marcoh, and then wipe a- A town?! Holy Leto, they’re gonna target Resembool! Scar, kill this ass! Ugh, and then in addition to his hidden Stone Kimblee gets a fresh one from Father, made from the assistants of Marcoh that first time. Makes sense in a jerk way, I guess. If you have to kill off the witnesses, why not grab those souls they aren’t using any more? Scar and Marcoh are hiding out in an alley, Scar explaining that Marcoh’s more useful alive to provide info on Kimblee and info about his brother’s research. Right, there’s that whole thing about Amestris’ alchemy being strange, and not just in that it’s different from alkahestry. Oh, and May’s caught up! She’s curious about their new companion, Scar’s quick to shut that idea down. He’s just the guy who made the Philosopher’s Stones-

Bleh. May hears “immortality” and jumps on it, she’s tugging on Marcoh’s sleeve and begging him to teach her how to make a Stone. Little one, stop. You have no idea what the true cost of a Philosopher’s Stone is. You can’t- Ah. I can see Scar’s logic here: better to remove the temptation now. I guess Marcoh is… still alive after that HoD? Oh yeah, the doctor is kinda recognizable, needs a new face. But wow dude, dick move to just grab him without any warning. Now, time to go and get his brother’s notes… In the north. Looks like everyone’s going to Drachma! Time to break out the winter outfits!

[ikemenfics]

A Kennyo Valentine

Happy valentine’s day...I had meant to write a thing for every guy...and uh...didn’t.

@daeva-agas for being Kennyo’s number one fan.

Word Count: 2481

You sat in a tiny shack in the woods, counting on your fingers.  First, you counted how long you’d been in Azuchi, then with Kennyo, eventually coming to the conclusion [It must be February now...Valentine’s Day, even].  You glanced around the empty hut that you shared with the warrior monk.

Kennyo had taken you, intending to use you to goad Nobunaga into an ambush.  Sadly, every skirmish since then had forced Kennyo to retreat, not to mention he had to shift bases more than once, always taking you along with him.  Things had taken an...interesting turn to say the least.  Kennyo had long ago removed your bonds with your vow that you wouldn’t run.  It seemed keeping a woman tied up and helpless went against Kennyo’s “demonic” sensibilities.  You kept your vow, though, although you were certain Kennyo might have broken one or two of his own.

It had started with the earnest desire to see Kennyo stop tormenting himself in his quest to be damned.  To make him stop calling himself the monster he so clearly was not.  Over time, earnestness became passion, and passion became love.  You were in love.  And you weren’t alone on it, either.  Mishaps and passionate moments and Kennyo had started to open up to the idea, even if he did still believe he was undeserving.  [Baby steps…]

You looked out the tiny window in the hut, a breeze making you shiver.  Though it was technically his shack, he was more a visitor to it now that you were the main occupant.  Again, those “demonic” sensibilities.  You had to laugh at the memory of Kennyo, face tinged in a rosy hue, explaining the impropriety of unbound men and women living together.  The warrior monk was currently too married to his revenge plan and monkhood to fully want to explore this newfound relationship the two of you had begun.

Thus, you found yourself, sitting alone, wrapped in a blanket, and wondering about Valentine’s Day.  The holiday of love.  Were you 500 years later, you would be in your kitchen making the best chocolate you could create and perform the act of the blushing hopeful presenting the treat to the special intended man in hopes that he would return your affections.  Alas, the Sengoku Era was not exactly known for its abundance of chocolate and you were no Sasuke, but even your calculations deduced that konpeito might not be the best treat idea.

[Ok, but what if…] Your mind ran off with another idea to contemplate and subsequently shoot down.  Dates weren’t exactly a thing during this era and old fashioned courtship was a foreign concept to you.  [What I wouldn’t give for Hideyoshi right now to ask relationship advice of...Not that he’d approve of this one..]

You were so lost in thought, you missed the sound of the door opening and closing.  “Considering running, after all?”  Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks reddened, and you all but jumped from your skin at the soft voice.  Kennyo gave you a wry look, telling you that his question was meant more in jest (though, if you were being completely honest, you thought Kennyo might still harbor such beliefs that you might regret being here with him.)

“N-no,” you stammered out, then took a centering breath and continued, “I was thinking about home.”  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  You knew it was going to have to come out, at some point.  Sasuke had said three months and you were sure you were nearing such a time.  You weren’t sure how Kennyo would take to the news that you were from the future.

“Home?  You don’t speak much of your village.  I had begun to wonder if Shingen’s outlandish claims of your celestial divinity might actually be correct,” his voice was light as he referred to the missive his Ikko Ikki had intercepted regarding movements of the two main armies in this little war ballad that you had found yourself in.    

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes at the monk, “I am beginning to think there’s a theme with that one.”  You stood, realizing that Kennyo hadn’t seated himself.  Uncurling from your position left cold spots all over you, your hands rubbing on your arms as you tried to warm yourself.  It was still a bit warmer than much of the outside, save right by the fires, but being a native of the modern era spoiled you to the comforts of electric heating.

Kennyo noticed, one hand taking your wrist ever so gently as he pulled the appendage to him, the rest of you left to follow.  His free arm wrapped around you and soon you were enveloped in his embrace.  He rubbed your back, friction from his hands and the warmth of his muscular chest warming you enough to stop the shivers.  You snuggled into him, breathing in his scent.  He smelled of earth and musk.  The scent of a man who spent much time outdoors.  It was a comforting scent.

“If I have something to say of it,” Kennyo was saying, his voice adorably serious, “you won’t ever be privy to his ‘themes’.”  You giggled, you couldn’t help yourself.  You tried to cover your mouth, attempting to stop the mirth even as it tumbled from you.  He stared at you, his expression one you had long grown used to.  The one that said, “I’m not sure how it is you are so innocent and strong at the same time.”  

“Sorry,” you managed, looking up to the man, “I am still unused to a jealous you.”  His expressed move to “not funny” as chortles destroyed anymore attempts you had of controlling your zing of happiness.

He huffed, stating, “I am so glad I could provide some entertainment.”  His tone was grumpy, but even he couldn’t stay that way.  In the face of your merriment, even his scarred visage managed to melt into a smile, your laughter ceasing in a moment.  It always struck you each time you saw it.  It started with small self deprecating ghosts of curved lips, but over time, you saw the lips curve more, little bits of light breaking through Kennyo’s stormy heart.  The way his face transformed with it always had you in such awe.

The moment stretched and you began to realize that your faces were drifting towards each other.  You closed your eyes, expecting the feel of his lips at any moment.  You waited, breath held, lips parting ever so slightly in anticipation.

The moment never came.  Cold air greeted you, though, as you took notice that you were no longer held in his arms.  Opening your eyes, you noticed his were glancing off to the side.  You turned your own head, seeing that a small audience had crowded the entrance to the shack.  Various faces all seemed intent on watching the action, but had collapsed into guilty looks as their leader gazed them down.

“Excuse us, abbott,” one stepped forward, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to interrupt…” he fell quiet, probably knowing his excuse fell flat considering the small crowd that had joined in watching.

Kennyo sighed.  Though it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Kennyo had grown close, the stubborn monk was not much on PDA.  You were beginning to damn sensibilities all the way down to the bottom of the seven hells.  Kennyo was now moving towards the door, your romantic interlude now spoiled.

“We’ve received word…” the apparent leader of the voyeurs started and off Kennyo was to talk war, movements, and whatever else he discussed when he left you to talk with his men.  You pouted.  You couldn’t help yourself.  [It’s Valentine’s and I can’t even get a kiss.  Boo]

“We apologize, Princess.”  Not all the men had dispersed, a couple staying behind to apologize especially to you, it seemed.  “The abbott seems so much easier with you around.  We’re all cheering you on.”  They smiled and nodded in affirmation.  You couldn’t help but return the looks.

“It’s alright.  But next time, perhaps, maybe not watch from the actual doorway…” You shook your head, deciding to exit the shack and help tend around the camp.  It’d be a while before Kennyo returned.

You gathered wood for fires, prepared the afternoon meal with some of the other warrior monks, Hozuki even popping out to help taste test the ingredients as you worked to cut them.  Hozuki had taken to napping in your haori when Kennyo was absent and sometimes you even could forget she was there, at least, until she wanted food or pets.

You snuck her a bite of rabbit, telling the small creature, “Here.  It’s not chocolate, but happy Valentine’s, Hozuki-chan.”  The weasel took her prize, disappearing back into the pocket you had stitched into the garment just for her.

“Barentain?” You glanced up, not realizing you had been overheard.  Curious eyes looked at you, “What is Barentain?  How happy is it?”

You laughed.  Valentine’s Day was a concept introduced by the west.  To the men of Sengoku Japan, it was about as foreign as the moon.  You explained that it was a couple’s holiday.  You spoke of how gifts were exchanged, chocolates, what chocolate was, and that it was the holiday of lovers.

The men were enraptured by your explanation, heat radiating from your face the more you went on.  “We interrupted such an important holiday of the Princess!”  Dramatic overtures were shared, men who had witnessed the two of you now distraught that such an important moment had been ruined by them and on such a day as this.  

No no, they decided, this would not do and suddenly you were alone.  You blinked, unsure of what just transpired.  Hands had taken your cooking implements and you were left standing over a pot completely at a loss for words.  

[I guess this is my cue to stop working?  There are plenty manning the cooking fires.]  You made your way through the camp, unaware that those same men had elected members for a very important mission.  Some tailed you in the camp, but others…

“We must make this up to the Princess!  We will get the abbott right away…”

Soon, you were on the border of the camp.  Beyond the camp, a little ways through the brush, you knew there was a lake.  You decided to search for water chestnuts and entered the woods.  It was colder away from the camp and close to the water, small squeaks of complaint coming from your haori as your shivered anew.  

It wasn’t long before footsteps alerted you to a new presence.  You turned to see Kennyo appear from the brush.  “My men said you had left…” he started and you realized he was breathing heavily.  [Did he run here?]

“I just came to the lake.  It seemed that the camp was covered, so I thought I could forage for stores…” your voice sounded unsure and bummed.  You didn’t even realize that you had started sulking over the day’s events.  

His eyes tightened as he stepped closer, “I had thought...it doesn’t matter…” his voice matched his eyes and you wondered what he was thinking.  [He really did run here...why?]

“You had thought?” You pressed.

“I was told that after your…” he paused, his brow creasing in concentration for a moment, “Barentain had been ruined that you had left camp and the men were afraid you were upset.”  [Word travels fast] you thought, dryly.

You reached out a hand to cup his face, his own chilled fingers covering yours.  He pulled you close with his other, his eyes staring down with intense emotions that you couldn’t even begin to untangle.

“Can’t ruin something you weren’t in on…” you whispered up to him, attempting to smile to reassure the big man, “they...and you...shouldn’t worry so much.”  

He didn’t respond for a moment, your hand dropping to rest on his chest as you stared up at him.  You began to count seconds, wondering if he was just going to stand here with you in his arms like this forever or not.

He glanced around, you glancing around with him, wondering if there was something you were supposed to be finding.  Your eyes returned to find him looking at you in a quiet surrender, the proverbial white flag wavering in those midnight eyes.

Finally, he took a deep breath, “Sore ni tsuite wa nanimoshinai….” he muttered, his head moving to yours too fast for you to react accordingly.  His kiss was harsh, his teeth taking your bottom lip, turning you to jelly in a heartbeat.  He shifted, his strong arm holding your weight while the other held your head just right to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking yours with wild abandon.  He groaned into your mouth, a floodgate washing a wave of sheer heat the went straight to your core.  You gripped his robes, trying to keep up with the rush that had swept you away.  He pressed, forcing you to tilt backward ever so slightly, your balance now entirely in his quite sturdy arm.  You whimpered, dizziness threatening to overwhelm you.

His lips broke from yours, but he was nowhere near through with you.  Nips and kisses trailed your jawline, moving down your neck, leaving you to moan as he pressed teeth into that spot where your neck met your shoulder, delicious ripples of pleasure dancing through your system.  You knew even without seeing it that there’d be a mark left behind once he released you.

He pulled back, the both of you panting as you pressed your foreheads together.  He straightened the both of you, but made no other movements.  You were quite happy to remain that way, too, heat coiling back into the deepest parts of you until you both were ready for another move.

“Forgive me for ruining such a holiday for you,” Kennyo murmured.  You smiled, peeking up at the man.  He stared down at you looking quite penitent.  You gave a small chuckle at how adorable he was in his seriousness.

You opened your mouth, intending to tell him it wasn’t that big of a holiday, but a thought struck you.  Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, nuzzling into that juncture where his jaw met his neck, placing a delicate kiss upon his pulse.  He sighed and you shifted, your arms reaching behind him to hold his back, “I’ll take it…” you whispered, “Happy Valentine’s.”

Unbeknownst to you, your small audience from before watched from behind the bushes.  All of them bore smiles as they watched the fruits of their labor.  As quietly as they could, the retreated, pleased as their plan succeeded better than they’d hoped.

“Think he’ll be mad when he finds out we lied to get him out there?”