#also a teal one named scar that you find out in the wild

[pythonscrypt]

had the most brilliant cursed idea in class today: hermitpuffles.

[sockablock]

hey are requests still open bc I am still FULLY CRYING about Molly coming back to life holy SHIT. I have a thing I want to request and that’s Molly having to come to terms with whatever changes his body went through - new blood hunter abilities, longer hair, the much larger scar from Lucien’s v gory death - after he comes back to life.

Molly doesn’t ask what happened to Nott. He doesn’t ask them where they are. He doesn’t even ask who Essek is, and only gives Caduceus a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning away and wandering off.

His feet are bare on the soft teal grass. This time of year in the Blooming Grove, faint glowing insects hover around his ankles. The leaves of the old blue wisteria trees hang like a sheet across the sky. He is wrapped in a cloak of quiet moonlight, grey on the graves as he passes by.

Eventually, he comes to a lone headstone. It is long, and flat, and smooth. He sits down.

If he is different in any way, nobody says. It’s taken him a few days to find his words again, and it’s clear that his memories are still trickling back. Veth had joked that he used to be more entertaining, but they all know that his returning in any capacity is already nothing short of a miracle. To the Mighty Nein, he is still as miraculous as before.

To himself—to Mollymauk, he thinks he’s a bit leaner. He’d never really been one for rigorous training—not aside from what it took to throw a sword and catch it—and yet, this body seems hardened, now. It’s still a bit sore in some inconvenient places, and the tall one, Caduceus, mentioned that he shouldn’t do anything too strenuous to avoid opening his scar. This newest mark runs like a seam down his shoulder to his navel, making the rest of his scars look like paper cuts. He isn’t exactly sure how to feel about that, yet. Beau offered to help him design a tattoo to cover it, and he isn’t sure how to feel about that yet, either.

A faint breeze runs through the Grove, tousling his hair. It’s longer now, and Molly might have liked that more if he’d been around to enjoy it. He suspects that he might have been, in one way or another, though not nearly present enough to make the executive choices. Otherwise, he might have tried braids. Maybe hair dye. Not  only that, but the...what had Caleb called him? The “previous occupant” had taken off Molly’s horn charms and necklaces. For the second-life of him, Molly can’t remember if he’d kept them. He can’t remember much about the last ten months—which might be alright. He doesn’t know if he wants to.

(He does remember some things, though. He remembers taking his shirt off the first night at the Grove and seeing the other scar left behind. It is closed now, and healed well over with blood magic, but when Molly reaches up and traces it down, he can feel how the cut drips into his abdomen. He remembers how it felt to have the blood pouring over, to boil with fury and die of shock, under the stars.)

He looks at them now. They haven’t changed a bit.

Another wind kicks up. Molly isn’t sure exactly what time of year it is, but he shivers. The Clays are kind, but the whole family towers over Molly, so their spare clothes fit him poorly. Firbolgs are also—well, furred—and Molly suspects that this borrowed tunic is on the thin side. His tail curls inward as he realizes he’s going to sneeze. He feels his muscles tense, he breathes in—

And suddenly, something warm is draped across his shoulders. He glances up.

“Oh. Yasha?“ His voice is strained. It feels as if Molly hasn’t spoken in a year, but at the same time, he feels like his throat is worn. Almost like he’s been giving frequent speeches with wild abandon. Now that he’s had some time to recover, the combined effect sounds like someone trying to remember how to talk, but only being allowed to do it through a rusty pipe.

“Come to join me in my musings?” he still says, stubbornly.

“She’s not the only one. ‘Sup.”

Molly doesn’t have to turn to know that Beauregard has walked into the rows of graves just behind Yasha. The two of them have been pretty attached to each other lately, except for when Yasha comes to check on Molly. The strongest part of him, the part that hung on the longest, is privately quite pleased by this.

“And you’ve given me your cloak.” He grins, but just at Yasha. “How kind of you, my dear.”

Okay, so not that privately.

“I was worried you’d be cold,” Yasha says, concern endearing. “Sorry your old coat wasn’t doing better. Jester says she can probably Mend it, or try to paint you a new one—“

Molly waves his hand. “No, no need, dear. I should do it. It’ll give me a thing to work on.”

Yasha nods. “I’ll let her know.”

Distantly, Molly can hear footsteps approaching. He counts four, maybe five pairs, if one of them is lighter. After a moment, there’s the sigh of cloth, and six pairs are walking.

Movement joins Molly on the headstone. He turns, and now Beau is seated beside him. Yasha stands like a guardian at his back.

Both of them are much, much wearier, Molly notices. Even though it’s been less than a year since his “death,” Beau is riddled with new scars from combat, and Yasha’s tattoos have gotten much bolder. Oddly, that’s reassuring.There’s something in the fact that Molly’s body changed, but theirs did too. And even if he can’t remember it, that’s something they have in common.

On the other hand, though, it makes him feel...he shakes his head. He gazes outward.

He asks, “Why did you follow me, then?”

Beau responds first. She does so with a snort. “Of course we’d follow you, you idiot. You were our friend—or...okay, technically, at the time you’re actually a crazy cult leader—“

“No, I meant—“

She cuts him off. “Right, yeah, details. Not important. Listen, it...it was a whole long thing, and it was complicated, but the important part is that we really, just really wanted you back. That’s why we did any of it. All of it. And why nothing could stop us.”

“Not even me?”

“Hell, no. Since when could you stop me?”

Molly chuckles at that. He glances at Yasha. “Is that true?”

“Which part?” she says. Then she says, “Yes. It is.”

He matches the tiny smile on her face. Then he turns back to stare at the woods past the graveyard while behind him, the rest of the Mighty Nein come to a halt.

His smile widens. “What I was actually trying to ask, though, is why you all followed me here. Just now. I thought you were going to prepare for dinner?”

“My parents took over,” Caduceus says. “They told us to take a break.”

“Besides!” With a burst of jewelry and her flouncing skirts, Jester squeezes onto the other end of Molly’s headstone. “We wanted to spend more with you!”

“Now that you’re interesting again,” adds Nott, taking a seat at the base of the stone with Fjord. He reaches up to wink at Molly, “Hey, roomie.”

“I thought I should get to know you as well,” says the new voice. Molly remembers that his name is Essek. “We, ah...we are both purple, so that is something we already have in common.”

Molly laughs at that. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Caleb. “It’s like there are two of you now. Like your shadow. Or a duplicate.”

“I am still the funny one,” Caleb says. “I plan on defending that title. Even from you.”

Molly laughs again, and this time, he does turn. He can see that the whole group have gathered around him now, sitting beside him, standing behind him, in the grass.

They are all so tired. They are all much stronger. Molly has gathered from the scars on their bodies—as well as from the scars on his own—just how powerful they must be now. He knows that he isn’t the same, either. Sometimes his blood feels like its boiling. Sometimes he is moving, and he can swear that it’s through snow.

But the Mighty Nein are here. There are nine of them, now. And that, he thinks, in and of itself, must be a miracle. And as he looks at them now, drinking their presence in, he thinks...

Maybe some things haven’t changed, after all.

—

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[fangirleaconmigo]

Hi! If your prompts are still open, would you consider perhaps Jaskel with them being soulmates? Hope you have a good day!

Hello dear! Once again, after saying I would answer these with 500-1000 words, I've written a full story arc of about 7500 words. Typical!

I started with this: In the books, Jaskier is extremely famous. What would the repercussions of fame be in a 'first words of your soulmate written on your arm' AU? How would people manipulate or weaponize it to get a piece of you?

What would it mean for a witcher, when so many 'first words' said to you are invectives?

And how would Jaskier and Eskel, with existences that seem at complete odds, navigate the cruelties of such a world, and fall in love?

Content Warnings: Brief references to past manipulative or coerced sex. Brief references of past self harm (to get rid of a soulmate mark). But it is a fully happy ending with loads of comfort.

It's Hard to be the Bard it's also hard to be the witcher, but that doesn't rhyme

As a rule, Eskel liked to keep things simple. Philosophy was for mages, who had nothing to do but plot and scheme. Ruminating never once helped a witcher.

However, there were occasional moments when he let himself drop down into his thoughts, despite his propensity for reigning in that sort of thing. And Eskel was right in the thick of one such moment.

He was in a Verden tavern, watching a man with a lute.

The man sang as he stepped playfully around the tables, soaking up the enthusiastic attention. He didn’t avoid the intense gaze of the crowd. He looked each of his admirers directly in the eyes. He drank it in like a desert flower soaked up the only rain of the season.

The man with the lute was handsome. Charming. He had a spare but lilting voice. Townspeople crowded in, hanging on his every note. Men sighed. Women cried.

But Eskel wasn’t thinking admiring thoughts. He was bewildered. Slightly perturbed. What did it feel like to be this man? To not pull away from such intense, focused attention? What was it like to have people habitually look at you with admiration instead of fear? To be the recipient of fevered lust instead of disgust?

Eskel couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He wondered if two people with such diametrically opposed experiences of living in the world could even be thought of as belonging to the same species.

But the longer Eskel looked, the more interesting the man became. It was like moving closer to a painting and picking out the red and white strokes that combined to make the pink. The singer had a fair youthful face that contrasted with his filthy mouth. He wore the most elegant ensemble Eskel had ever seen in an ordinary tavern, but his doublet lay open rakishly and an obscene thatch of chest hair peeked out.

On closer inspection, he was gorgeous.

Then suddenly, the man was looking him in the eye. He locked into Eskel’s gaze before the witcher could avert his eyes. Eskel froze, fingers hovering over the handle of his mug. He waited for the man to look away to more pleasing vistas. But instead, this confounding man broke easily into a wide, wild grin. Even the warbling lusty note he held couldn’t dim its shine.

Eskel smiled back, with no thought to what his own face looked like.

And then the man with the lute winked at him.

That small gesture sent a thrill of excitement up Eskel’s spine. But that was only the beginning. The spirit and the spark Eskel now saw in the man’s eyes grabbed him by the heart and screamed “Pay attention. This is important.” It was a chain reaction, like one of Lambert’s experiments. It ignited a buzz, which transformed into a lightness of being.

It was infatuation.

Eskel hadn’t felt that in ages. Maybe not since he was a youngling. He couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

Well look at that, you’re still alive, old man. He murmured to himself.

He knew that the wink was the totality of the connection he would have with this man. So he tucked it away in some recess that he could visit later. He would think of it again when he was alone and the world was quiet. No one could judge him for it, because no one would know.

A voice cleared.

The alderman had arrived. This was the part Eskel had been dreading.

“Eskel.” He said Eskel’s name the way one would point out a rotten fleck of cheese. Eskel had made an effort to bathe after his messy hunt and before meeting this man. He had used a fragrant soap and scrubbed until his skin was pink. He had flattened and spit down his hair until it gleamed. He had shaved around his scars so that he didn’t have scattered sparse hair on his cheeks.

He knew it wouldn’t matter. And it didn’t. But he had tried.

“Carlen,” he answered evenly. He kept his voice low, as was his habit. He had been told it sounded like barking dogs.

The alderman didn’t deign to sit. He stood beside the table and dropped a bag of coins. Even looking at it, Eskel knew it wasn’t enough. He picked up the bag and Carlen cocked an eyebrow.

“You don't trust me, witcher?”

He said it like it was absurd. Topsy turvy. Backwards.

“Just business,” said Eskel. He dumped the coins and looked up at Carlen. “This is half of what we agreed to.”

“I gave the rest to the other witcher,” Carlen insisted.

“Lambert took half. I get half.”

“He took more.”

No he fucking didn’t. Eskel knew Lambert would never short him. Carlen was a lying piece of shit.

Eskel hadn’t even responded when Carlen spoke again. “Don’t get upset!” he said theatrically, looking around at the tavern. Eskel instinctively surveyed the place too. The singer had finished his set and was putting away his lute. He was crouched on the ground. A ribbon tied his trousers together at the back. Even in his irritated state, Eskel noted the ridiculous, adorable bow.

“We all know how witchers get,” Carlen said to the tavern, which was now silent other than clinking of glasses. “We wouldn't want any trouble.”

Eskel knew what this was. It was a threat. Carlen was gambling that he could turn the crowd against him if he pressed. Eskel turned back to Carlen, calculating his risk. Calculating how much money he absolutely needed...how much was non negotiable to let him survive to the next job.

Eskel opened his mouth but then startled because suddenly, the singer was right next to him, a vision in teal. How had he moved that quickly? He positioned himself right between Carlen and Eskel. He took up space like a man who had never had to shrink to be found palatable. He placed his hands on his hips like he was a man who belonged anywhere he chose to be. He tipped his head back to look down his nose at the alderman.

“Carlen,” he said imperiously. “Surely you aren’t trying to cheat the man.”

Carlen shrunk backwards. “Oh well hello, Viscount Julian.”

Viscount. What was a viscount doing performing in a tavern? Eskel figured this Viscount Julian should be in court somewhere or enjoying his land. Of course the tavern was packed with an adoring crowd. Maybe he just liked the attention.

“Don’t hello Viscount Julian me,” he sniffed in Carlen’s direction. “Pay the man what you’ve promised him. Do you want witchers to deny us their services? Are you prepared to do battle with a beastie? Well I can’t imagine that,” he cackled mockingly. “You’d piss yourself the minute you were in any real danger.”

Carlen’s eyes hardened, but he was clearly outranked. “No, no, of course no. A mere misunderstanding.”

“I would hope so,” snorted Julian. He picked at his doublet, straightening the buttons, as though Carlen was beneath his notice.

Usually an outsized air of entitlement like that grated on Eskel’s nerves. But it wasn’t so bad when it was deployed in his defense. Most people assumed he didn’t need defending. And he didn’t need it, strictly speaking. But secretly, he liked it.

Julian looked at Carlen again but gestured at Eskel. “After all, how often do we get such brave, handsome men in this godforsaken town? Valiant men who have quite literally slayed monsters, like heroes of old. And that smell of--” Julian sniffed the air, “orange blossoms.”

Eskel’s heart sank as soon as he heard the word handsome, and it kept plummeting like a stone at the words ‘valiant’ and ‘hero’. This was all bullshit. Another performance. He knew he wasn’t handsome. He knew that for a fact. And no one thought that witchers were valiant. Useful maybe. But this was all way too over the top to be true.

Viscount Julian was mocking him.

Wasn’t he?

There had been times when women in taverns would dare each other to go talk to the monstrous man in the corner, as a test of courage. They thought Eskel couldn’t hear them chatter to each other before sending one over to say hello. It always made him feel sour inside. Humiliated.

This had to be the same.

Eskel clenched his fists, bunching up the knees of his trousers. His heart rebelled. This man had smiled at him so brightly. It had felt real. It had felt so real.

There was only one way to find out whether Viscount Julian was mocking him. He had to ask.

“Did Lambert put you up to this?” asked Eskel.

Lambert had been in here collecting his pay on the contract just before Eskel. He might still be around. Eskel leaned back to sweep his eyes around the tavern. He searched for Lambert’s smirking face. He didn’t find it.

He looked back at Julian, and was startled to see a stark transformation. Julian’s face had fallen. It had gone completely slack. It had just been full of verve and charm for Eskel, and righteous disdain for Carlen. Now he looked hurt, and stunned, as though Eskel had just slapped him flat across the face. Carlen didn’t notice, he was busy pulling out more coins.

Eskel panicked and ran through what he had just said. In retrospect it didn't make sense, of course. Lambert wouldn't have put Julian up to this. If Lambert had wanted Carlen put in his place he would have done it himself. And he wouldn’t have gotten anyone to mock Eskel’s looks. Lambert was an asshole but he wasn’t cruel. There was a difference.

But in the moment, Eskel had just instinctively grasped for someone to blame for a trick on him, and had come up with Lambert out of rote habit. And now Julian was standing before him, his eyes hardened into little blue points of wounded betrayal.

And Eskel had no idea why.

“Here you go, sir witcher,” smiled Carlen falsely. Eskel looked back at the alderman to gather his coins. The man dropped a second bag into his hands and turned on his heel. The doors of the tavern clattered in his wake. Eskel turned back to Julian, but he was gone.

He was up front again. A smile was back on his face, but it was brittle. It was nothing like before. The barkeep cupped his hands around his mouth and exhorted the crowd to “give a hand to Jaskier!”

Jaskier. Must be a stage name.

The crowd went absolutely wild. Eskel picked out squeals and shrieks from people who Jaskier honored with a wink. But it looked forced. Eskel felt slightly ill. He felt responsible for this reversal of moods. He shifted in his chair and drummed his fingers on the surface.

Eskel didn’t know why he cared so much, why his mind churned and guilt settled on him like a shroud. Geralt and Lambert always told him that he cared too much what other people thought of him. He knew they would advise him to leave the tavern. He had his money. And he hadn’t said anything rude or disrespectful. He had nothing to apologize for.

And yet.

Eskel hadn’t been offered a friendly expression all spring. Then, when he was greeted with a joyous open smile, Eskel had chased it away. Worse yet, he didn’t even know how he had done it. It irked him. He wasn’t going to be able to leave here until he found out. He lifted a finger to call over the server. His appetite had mostly withered, but he needed a reason to be at the table for the rest of the evening. The server ignored him. After a long wait, the proprietor himself came out to serve him. The server must have refused to help him. It was fine.

Eskel ordered his supper, then sat there as dusk settled outside. He nursed his pint. He clanged a spoon around in his soup. And he trained his witcher hearing on Jaskier, who sat with his back to him across the tavern at the bar.

Over the next hour, people approached Jaskier in an unrelenting stream. Apparently, he was a singer of some renown. Some people asked him for a song. Others wanted good wishes for their families. Some told him their personal problems in lurid detail. Some grabbed him and kissed his cheek. Others propositioned him in such obscene terms that Eskel’s ears turned pink. He wasn’t shy about sex, but he was uncomfortable with aggressive, public propositions.

Jaskier responded to them all in a practiced, cheerful tone. He laughed and squirmed subtly away from caresses. He smiled into cheek kisses. But Eskel could tell that by comparison to his earlier vivacity, this was pure performance. His mood was sour, but he was hiding it remarkably well. And he was throwing back pint after pint, growing intoxicated.

A protective instinct bloomed in Eskel, but he resisted it. Jaskier clearly liked fame, he must know how to handle it even when drunk.

Eskel watched carefully as the next man approached Jaskier. He had a doublet and trousers on that were similar to the outfit Jaskier wore. He smiled lasciviously. Then he said something quietly in Jaskier’s ear that made Eskel’s hair stand on end.

“Did Lambert put you up to this?”

Jaskier exploded. He slammed his stein down on the bar. “Put me up to what?? Who would put me up to sitting on my ass drinking ale? It doesn’t even make sense! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The tavern fell silent and tense.

Jaskier hopped down from the stool and almost stumbled forward onto his face. An empathy response made Eskel jerk forward but he stopped himself. He was too far away, even if Jaskier wanted his help. The man who had spoken tried to steady him but Jaskier yanked his arm away. He grabbed his lute and pulled it over his shoulder. Then he rushed towards the exit. As Jaskier passed Eskel on the way to the door, he kept his eyes trained forward, steadfastly avoiding looking at him.

Jaskier burst out the door and into the night. Several people jumped from their seats and followed him, whispering frantically to one other.

Eskel desperately wanted to know why that man had said what he said. He almost moved to go ask. But then he nervously glanced at the door. Those overbearing people were stalking Jaskier in his vulnerable drunken state. Alright, Eskel was stalking him too. But he was keeping a respectful distance.

Eskel pushed to his feet. He dropped a sufficient amount of coin onto the table and followed the trickle of people outside. Verden was no backwater, so the streets were wide and lined with shops all closed up for the night. The mercantile district was built close to the banks of the Yaruga so the air smelled of wet earth, fish, and tar.

He spotted Jaskier headed north in the direction of the docks. It was a bad idea. Generally, when one was drunk, one should avoid large bodies of water.

Eskel walked down the cobblestone street, keeping to the shadows. It was quieter outside and his ear rang slightly, adjusting from the loud noise of the tavern.

Two young men who had been tailing Jaskier, reached him and touched his shoulder to get his attention. Eskel was close enough that he could see Jaskier turn around. The streetlamp shone warm gold on one side of Jaskier’s face and the moon lit him soft and gray on the other. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. His eyes were watery and his mouth was set in a grim line.

Eskel’s pulse quickened when he heard one of the men lean in and ask, “Did Lambert put you up to this?”

Jaskier flipped them off and took off further down the street.

The men gave up their mission, and turned back, only for Eskel to emerge from the shadows, glowering down at them. One of the men shrieked like a frightened child.

“Why did you say that to him?” gritted out Eskel.

The two men skittered backwards, eyes wide, stammering apologies. “I’m not the only one who’s tried it,” said one man, his round face pinched in fear.

“It can’t hurt to try,” said the other, holding tight to his hat as they scattered away.

What in the fuck did that mean? There were three more people behind Eskel who had come out of the tavern to follow Jaskier. He whirled around, stepped towards them, and growled. They all yelped and retreated.

Eskel surveyed the empty street in satisfaction. Then he hurried to recapture Jaskier. He calculated how close he needed to be to pull Jaskier out of the water if he pitched off the side of the pier.

But thankfully, Jaskier found a seat on a wide, squat, wooden beam safely away from the edge of the pier. He lowered himself carefully and raised his face to inhale the soft breeze cooling his face. The lapping of water and the chirp of crickets soon swallowed every other noise.

Eskel drew closer, debating what to do. Then he came to a decision. He approached and knelt beside Jaskier.

“Hello,” said Eskel gently.

Jaskier turned slowly to look at him. His bleary eyes focused, lit up briefly, then extinguished.

“Fuck off.”

There was no fire behind it. He sounded drained. He didn’t slur, but his words were fuzzy. Slippery. He looked back at the water and inhaled, as though he meant to block Eskel out of his mind.

“My name is Eskel.”

Jaskier rubbed his face then dropped his hands heavily back in his lap. “Th-blazes do you want, Eskel?” His face looked drawn, all efforts at jolliness had vanished. Eskel wanted to touch him to comfort him, but he knew it wouldn't be welcome.

“Why are people saying that to you? About Lambert?” he asked.

Jaskier chuckled bitterly. “You tell me. You said it too.” He stood up and walked to the edge of the pier. Eskel almost stood up, in order to be at the ready if Jaskier fell. But then he heard the telltale sound of him pissing in the water.

Jaskier returned to his seat on the beam and settled in, looking out over the water once again.

“Yes, but I know why I said it,” insisted Eskel, picking the conversation up where he left off. “I have a brother named Lambert. He likes to play tricks sometimes. What I want to know is, why did the others say it?”

Jaskier picked up a bottle sitting on the docks between his feet. Eskel hadn’t noticed it there before. Jaskier pulled out the cork and took a sip. Then he lowered it and licked his lips. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it's true.”

Jaskier’s shoulders shook. He was giggling. But it wasn’t a nice giggle. It was bitter. “I really thought you were different. For just a moment.”

Eskel had thought the same about Jaskier. It had felt awful when that belief turned to ash, when he thought Jaskier was mocking him. He replied softly, “you don’t even know me.”

It was quiet now. The sounds that were left of the town were far away. There was only the ripples of water and the rustle of reeds. Each time they spoke, their voices broke the silence like a pebble in still water. It made their conversation feel intimate. Eskel supposed that should have been weird. They didn't know each other, and Jaskier didn’t trust him. But oddly, that was exactly how it felt. Intimate.

Jaskier shrugged. Eskel thought that meant “fine, don’t believe me,” and that the line of inquiry was dead. He opened his mouth to try a different tack.

But Jaskier cut in. “It was your smile,” he said. The words sounded like truth dragged up from the depths of his soul. “It was...utterly sincere.” Jaskier paused and pondered, his lips frozen mid utterance. Eskel waited until he continued. “I could feel it. I was drawn to it. And when Carlen came in, I saw you were a witcher.” He lifted the palms of his hands and shrugged. “So you were also brave, and a man who didn’t deal in bullshit. I admired you straight away.”

Eskel flushed. He had a hard time with compliments. But this was even worse, because Jaskier was using the past tense. These nice words were things Jaskier used to think of him.

Jaskier fiddled with the cork he had pulled from the bottle. “And when Carlen tried to cheat you, you were humble. Quiet. Like you didn’t want to be too big or too much. The fucker instantly took advantage of that. And it did silence you.”

Eskel couldn’t protest, because it was true.

“I relate to that,” said Jaskier. “Being afraid of being too much. Perhaps for different reasons. But I do. It was a small thing. But I connected with you.”

He threw the cork out into the water with a flick of his wrist. It made a soft plunk when it hit the surface, and it bobbed downstream. Jaskier took another sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Plus, you’re handsome. It made me stupid.”

He really did think Eskel was handsome, after all.

The wooden beams were digging bruises into Eskel’s knees, so he sat back and crossed his legs. Jaskier glanced at him, watching him getting comfortable. He raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t ask him to leave.

“Why did the others repeat my words?” He had to persist until he got an answer.

Jasker snorted. “It’s a trick.” He held out his arm in the moonlight and shoved up his sleeve. Up his forearm ran the neat line of his soulmate words in stark black against his pale skin.

It sounded absurd, but Eskel often forgot about the existence of soulmate words. He had gotten so practiced at blocking them out...pretending that they didn’t exist.

Lots of people didn’t put stock in them anyway. Believing in soulmate words was a leap of faith, like spending all season tilling new ground, or trying for a child. You hoped for the best. But sometimes the winter was harsh. Or the baby had a head too large for birth. Or you had terrible soulmate words. Words that were common. Words that were cruel. Or worst of all, words that were both common and cruel.

It was a mess, bordering on a clusterfuck. But now, looking at Jaskier’s forearm, Eskel was flooded with emotions so potent he had to concentrate on pulling in breath to slow his pulse. On Jaskier’s forearm sat the following words:

Did Lambert put you up to this.

Eskel’s heart pounded. His hand came up to his own arm, covered by his sleeve. He was almost a hundred years old. He hadn’t thought of his own soulmate words in decades. He had practically forgotten they existed. But now he made the connection.

His spirit eased. A fear he had been guarding and allowing to fester ever since he was twenty one, began to slip away.

Jaskier pulled his sleeve back down. “See, you seem genuinely surprised.” He shook his head slowly, eyes hollow. “And something inside me still fights to believe you.”

The light went on and Eskel understood. He hadn’t been overheard. Jaskier’s fans had already known the words on his forearm. The man in the bar, the people chasing Jaskier in the street, they had all been trying to trick Jaskier into believing they were his soulmate. Eskel had trundled right into an existing situation like a bull in a china shop.

“So, your fans have seen your words, I take it.”

“Fine,” said Jaskier. “If you want to play this, I’ll play it.”

He turned around and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. The full force of his expressive doe eyes looked straight into Eskel. Fuck. He was even more beautiful under the stars. Eskel wanted to touch him. He didn’t.

“Tell me,” said Eskel.

“I have never been in a hurry to find my soulmate,” began Jaskier. He had the air of man who was going to tell a story with a beginning, middle and end. Eskel settled in. He was curious. Jaskier’s life sat in the starkest contrast to his own. He wanted to know what it was like, living under such different conditions.

“I wanted to fuck my way across the continent,” Jaskier continued, though he spoke softly now. “I wanted to enjoy every flavor of person. Life is short. And I do love the attention. But--” he raised a finger and tilted his head, “I am still a hopeless romantic. And people have found a way to---” his breathing stuttered, “--use it against me.” The last few words were so quiet, even sitting this close to him Eskel might not have heard were he not a witcher.

At some point this had shifted from shoving his story defiantly at Eskel, to telling it sincerely.

“How?” asked Eskel.

Jaskier lowered his eyes, seeming to build courage. It plucked at Eskel’s heartstrings. “Well, first it was my lyrics. You know how your words don’t come in until you’re twenty one? I was famous by eighteen. So I was out in the world, meeting new people every day, I had no idea what my words would be. So it was easy for them to write my lyrics on their arms. Ink them. Paint them.”

“Your lyrics? Of the songs you sing?”

“Yes,” Jaskier rubbed his forearm absently. “When I walk into a tavern or entertainment hall and begin a song, technically, those are the first words I say to the entire room of people. And there’s no instructional pamphlet. No rule book. Does singing count? It doesn’t. But I didn’t know.”

“So they would ink your lyrics on and claim they were you soulmates because you said those words to them.”

“Yes. And since I didn’t have words of my own yet, I had no way of knowing if it was true.”

“I see,” said Eskel.

“Do you?” Jaskier’s voice turned metallic, rage simmering below. The rage wasn’t for Eskel. It was directed at some memory. “Because the first time a man claimed to be my soulmate, I believed him. He had my lyrics on his arm. He said that I had locked eyes with him across the room when I’d sung them. I was young. Stupid.”

“Trusting.”

“Seeing my lyrics, words I had composed from my heart, on his arm, moved me. I thought it so romantic,” he said, in a tone mocking his past self. “It wasn’t until we were somewhere private, I was divested of my clothes, and I’d--submitted to him that my fingers slid down the sweat on his arms and the words smeared.”

The full reality of what that moment must have been like, dawned on Eskel. “What a piece of shit.”

“The soulmarks were fake.” His voice grew thick with the threat of tears. His vulnerability was almost painful to look at. But Eskel wouldn’t turn away if he didn’t. “The man had lied. Tricked me. I felt like an imbecile. Like an idiot. I may be a slut, but I still like to make my own decisions about who I have sex with, and under honest circumstances.”

Eskel ached in sympathy. He didn’t want to ask how far the tryst had gone before Jaskier knew he’d been lied to. He didn’t want to ask how he’d responded, whether he pretended he hadn’t seen and finished? Or whether he had pulled away and fled.

“Am I boring you yet?” asked Jaskier.

“No.”

Jaskier slid his hands through his fringe and tucked it behind his ear. “I thought I had learned my lesson. So when my words were ready to appear, just before my birthday, I had my mother sew loops onto my sleeves to hide my soulmate words. I didn’t want anyone to learn them and try again to take advantage of me. But one day, the string caught and rode up. Someone saw my words, and I didn’t realize it.”

“Fuck,” whispered Eskel.

“They had my lyrics. I had their words. I thought...I thought I’d found the one again. I fell right into bed with another liar. Another trick.” Jaskier’s throat closed and he fell silent.

“I’m sorry,” said Eskel. “I’m a witcher. People reject us. Hate us. But to have people use your body, to take a piece of it whether you want to give it or not...I don’t know what’s worse.”

“It’s not all bad,” said Jaskier, forcing some levity into his voice. “Most of the time I love fame. Wouldn’t choose anything else. But no rose is without its thorns.”

“I suppose so,” said Eskel. “But you don’t deserve that. No one does.”

“I was stupid.”

“You were brave.”

Jaskier looked doubtful.

“It’s brave to hope in the face of cruelty,” said Eskel. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jaskier fiddled with his fingers. “Some of my fans are lovely, though. The first man who lied to me? He boasted all over town that he had taken me. That he had tricked me into fucking him. It didn’t go as well as he hoped. Not everyone admired him for it. In fact, a gaggle of adolescent girls, they call themselves Jaskier’s Angels,” a smile curled on his lips, the first real one to occupy his face since Eskel had spoken his soulmate words, “cornered him in an alley and thrashed him with sticks until he cried.

Eskel chuckled. Jaskier joined in. Soon they were both giggling. It wasn’t funny. But they laughed anyway. And it helped. Jaskier sat up and grabbed the bottle again. He chugged it this time.

“I have learned, Eskel,” he said loudly with sharp corners in his voice, as though telling not only Eskel, but the Yaruga itself, “That a pedestal is not love.”

Chug.

“It is just something to fall off of.”

Chug.

“I have learned, Eskel, that someone can be on you, and in you, all without ever fucking seeing you at all.”

Chug.

“I have learned, Eskel, that someone can have your name endlessly on their lips and never care to know who you really are.”

Chug.

Then he swept the bottle to the side in a grand gesture, looking at Eskel, increasingly unsteady. Then he sat in silence, again looking at the water, as the alcohol hit his system.

Eskel swallowed hard. The loneliness that dripped from Jaskier was so thick it felt corporeal. He knew exactly how that felt. He ached to do something, anything to assuage even a bit of it. To reassure him.

He settled for reassuring Jaskier about him. “If you want to check on my story,” he said, “you can ask Carlen. He paid my brother Lambert for the job and made a receipt in the town ledger. I’m a lot of things. But I don’t force people or lie to them for sex. I would never--”

He knew it sounded false. He stopped, letting the words trickle away. Jaskier didn’t respond. They sat in silence as Jaskier downed the rest of the bottle. Eskel watched his throat bob, and vowed to stay and make sure Jaskier got back somewhere safe.

“Where do you live?” he asked. Jaskier didn’t answer. He finished the bottle. Then he turned to face Eskel once again. He hadn't heard his question.

“S-sorry,” he croaked. “I s’pose I'm having....a bit of a night.”

And then he leaned over and vomited into the Yaruga.

Shortly thereafter, he laid down on the slats of the pier for a nice nap.

Eskel carried a snoring Jaskier back to the tavern, bridal style. His sweaty body curled against Eskel’s chest, tranquil and without defense. His fingers pinched periodically at the fabric of Eskel’s shirt. The lute dangled over his shoulder, gently thumping against him as he walked. The proprietor showed them to a modest room upstairs. Eskel settled Jaskier down on the cozy bed with a creak. He took off his shoes and stockings for him, but left the rest. Then he pulled the quilt over him and tucked it against his sides.

He was careful not to touch Jaskier unnecessarily, but he watched him sleep for a few moments. It was good to see him like that. Peaceful. Chest rising and falling.

He found a chair and pulled it out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

And he took up watch.

----

The next morning, by the time Jaskier stumbled downstairs to try to pay for his room, Eskel was already gone, heading north on his horse Scorpion. Pines towered above him and the wind was at his back.

He had slipped away as soon as he’d heard Jaskier groan himself awake. He didn’t know how much Jaskier would remember of the previous night. But he would always remember it. He would remember sitting on a creaking dock, listening to Jaskier entrust him with his story. It had been so different from his own, yet he had recognized himself in it. He knew what it was like not to be able to trust. He knew what it was like for people to see you as an object, not a person.

He had wanted to stay longer, maybe for breakfast. But if Eskel had stayed he would have been weak. He would have been selfish. He took a less traveled, dirt road out of town. Not that he thought in a million years that Jaskier would try to follow him. But he took precautions as a rule.

Still, he couldn’t help that his heart leapt to his throat in joy when about five miles out, he heard hooves pounding up the road behind him and Jaskier’s voice shouting his name. “Eskel! Eskel please! I’m still dehydrated. Don’t make me chase you anymore! Have mercy! Stop in the name of Viscount Julian!”

Eskel pulled Scorpion to a stop and turned around, a laugh burbling from his throat. Jaskier looked absolutely ridiculous and splotchy. He was disheveled. But the bright light was back in his eyes. He was smiling from ear to ear.

“I caught you!” He chortled when he was close enough for their horses to eye each other warily.

“Jaskier, what are you doing here? You look...”

“Like shit?” asked Jaskier, panting and running his hands through his hair. In the morning light, the firmness of his muscles, the broadness of his shoulders, were more apparent. Eskel’s body warmed, and he reminded himself that he couldn’t have this man. He shouldn’t.

“Let’s get down so we don’t have to yell at each other,” Jaskier suggested.

The both slid from their saddles and stood in front of one another. Eskel had no idea where this was going, but the full body relief he felt to be standing close to Jaskier again took him by surprise. “I was going to say, you look better. You look happier,” he said.

“Yes,” conceded Jaskier, shading his eyes from the sun. “Last night was rough. But sometimes you need to cleanse your demons with whinging and whiskey.”

Eskel chuckled. “I get that. Have done it more than once.”

Jaskier smiled and it was the first time Eskel had seen him look...shy. If you’d asked him when he’d first laid eyes on Jaskier whether the man was even capable of looking shy he would have said no.

Be strong, you ridiculous witcher, Eskel thought to himself.

“I also benefited greatly from a patient ear,” Jaskier continued. “I benefited from the kindness of a man who carried me back to a room, then apparently sat outside my door all night and chased away several fans who wanted to wake me.”

Eskel’s had frightened a few people away. It had felt sort of good, actually.

“And you paid for my room out of your hard earned coin.”

Eskel felt awkward being at the receiving end of all this gratitude. He liked it, but it made his insides squirm. So he changed the subject. “Did you go by Carlen’s house?”

“I did. On my way here. I hope you don’t take it as an insult.”

“I’m grateful you did. I don’t want any doubt left between us.”

Jaskier stepped closer, and Eskel’s heart thumped in his chest. He could usually hear the other person’s heart and gauge it, but Jaskier was still out of breath from the ride, so his heart was already thudding. But his intentions were clear when he reached out and took Eskel’s hand.

Eskel let him. He revelled in the curl of Jaskier’s fingers around his own. His eyes even fluttered closed momentarily when Jaskeir squeezed him. He wanted this touch. He wanted more.

“Eskel, I think you are the best man I’ve ever met.”

There was no way Eskel could process that fully. He squeezed Jaskier’s hand. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You couldn’t have known,” replied Jaskier. “You innocently stumbled into my mess.”

Their clasped hands swung between them. Scorpion whinnied. Jaskier’s horse moseyed to the edge of the trail and sniffed around.

“What does your arm say, Eskel?” challenged Jaskier.

Eskel’s smile melted into concern. “Jaskier,” he pleaded. “You don't want to know. I’m not right for you. My life is hard and cold. I move from place to place, and sometimes I don’t even know when the next coin will come.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what is right for me?” Jaskier asked. His voice was gentle but there was the slightest edge.

Eskel thought about Diedre, and how he had tried to protect her from herself by keeping her out of his life, and how disastrous the consequences had been. He realized that this was similar. The thought that he was repeating a mistake distressed him greatly. Perhaps he needed to stop protecting people and start trusting them. Perhaps he needed to have a little faith.

Eskel looked above Jaskier’s shoulder, towards the horizon. He slowly pulled up his sleeve, turning his arm so that Jaskier could see his soulmark words.

Jaskier’s lips moved as he read them.

Fuck off.

They were the first words that Jaskier had properly said to him. Jaskier ran his finger over the bumps of scar tissue surrounding them. “What happened?” He looked into Eskel’s eyes with naked concern.

Eskel didn’t like talking about it, but Jaskier had shared his story. It was Eskel’s turn.

“People tell witchers to fuck off pretty regularly. And it would be weird to offer yourself up as a soulmate when they do.”

“Oh,” said Jaskier. His shoulders slumped, looking distressed at the thought. "You deserve so much better than that, dear man."

This kindness caused Eskel to pry his heart open just a little bit more.

“Every day I am outside of Kaer Morhen, I have to prove that I’m a person, and not a monster. Trying to destroy the marks was my way of rebelling against a destiny that wanted me to hate myself. Against accepting a soul mate who I would have to convince not to hate me.”

Jaskier’s face pinched in sympathetic pain. He pulled Eskel’s forearm closer and pressed a kiss to the ridge of the burn scars running along the words. Eskel melted.

“I stopped when I got these,” he pointed to the scars on his face. “After that, I didn’t have the stomach for more scars. So I just tried to forget.”

Jaskier chewed his lip. His hand was warm and comforting in Eskel’s palm. “You know that’s not the reason I told you to fuck off,” he said. “It had nothing to do with you being a witcher.”

“I know,” said Eskel. “You thought I was trying to take advantage of you, like the others.”

“You have my deepest apologies, darling Eskel,” said Jaskier.

“You didn’t know. You stumbled innocently into my mess.” He repeated the same sentiment that Jaskier had offered him. “This might be weird, but I was relieved when you said my soulmark words. I had always assumed it would be the words of someone disgusted by me. Someone I would have to convince that I am a person. But it wasn't that after all. You and I, we just...had a bit of a misunderstanding.”

Jaskier reached for Eskel’s other hand. “Can we begin again? Shall I beg? I’m willing to beg.”

They stood clasping hands as though they were about to dance in the middle of the dusty trail. When Eskel didn’t answer him, he pressed again.

“I always pictured myself being dashing and romantic,” Jaskier said plaintively, “if I ever met my soulmate. I’m a poet, for fuck’s sake. I can do better than fuck off. If you give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll write you a hundred poems.”

Eskel released Jaskier’s hands and took a step backwards, giving him an out if he wanted it.

“Jaskier, this life is bloody and dangerous. The life span is short. The food on the road is shit. The monsters are absolute cunts.”

Jaskier closed the distance between them, grasping his hands again. Butterflies fluttered through Eskel’s stomach.

“I’m hardier than I may seem,” he insisted. “And I happen to be looking for a change of scenery.”

“What about your music?” asked Eskel.

“Adventures and brave deeds make the best ballads.”

Eskel chuckled. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Yes. I hope you aren’t used to winning arguments.” Jaskier grinned mischievously, and it was obscenely endearing. There was so much more to this man than first met the eye.

Yes, he had been imperious and entitled. But he had weaponized it to defend Eskel. And Jaskier’s breakdown by the docks had shown how trusting he still was, under it all. It was resilience. It was courage. It was hope. Eskel remembered hope.

“There are no beautiful boys and girls here,” he said.

“I am looking at the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

Eskel blushed and smothered a smile. But he wouldn’t be dissuaded yet. He had to be sure that Jaskier knew what this would mean. “But every night you play, you get your choice of the partner. You can have anyone. You can taste any flavor.”

“But I am ready for something more. Something better. Someone better.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“I want to find out,” said Jaskier. “Please, Eskel. Grant me the chance to find out.”

The sincerity of his pleading gave Eskel the courage to drop the last of his defenses. He allowed hope to rush in like the tide. He pulled Jaskier against him and cupped his face in his hands.

And he kissed him.

Jaskier whimpered in delight and melted against him, fingers sliding up to rest against his neck. It was a kiss of promise. It was the beginning of a journey.

Eskel drank in his eager lips and the press of his warm, enthusiastic body. Then he pulled back to look at Jaskier closely, a smile tugging at his lips once more.

“Very well, Viscount Julian,” he said with a teasing flourish. “Would you like to crawl around in the brush with me and be menaced by a bloodthirsty bruxa? Because that is what comes next.”

“I would,” said Jaskier. “I do”

“Don’t you want to go back to get your things?”

“I’ll buy more. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Pieces of Eskel mended at that. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier and held him for several long moments, feeling their hearts beating against one another. Jaskier rested his head on his shoulder with a sigh, and ran his fingers up and down Eskel’s back.

Then they mounted their horses and rode off together, towards the first adventure of many.

[dont-tempt-me-frodo]

The Jaskier Effect

Also on ao3

The first time that Eskel noticed things were changing, he was collecting the payment for a contract on a wraith in Velen. The alderman handed him a leather coin pouch with a wink, saying “Toss a coin to your Witcher,” and then proceeded to hum some tune as Eskel turned to leave.

Not every interaction was as odd, or as pleasant, but he did find that over the following months there was generally a slightly more tolerant attitude whenever he walked into a village or town, and less people tried to cheat him out of the coin he was owed for his work. If he hadn’t spent the better part of a century being shunned or ridiculed for being a Witcher, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? But he still kept his guard up. Aired on the side of caution. People don’t just change, and he was suspicious about this new growing respect for his kind.

It was in a tavern in Redania where he heard the song in full for the first time. He was perched at a table in the corner, thumbing a tankard of piss-poor ale when a young female bard started up and one of the patrons requested it.

It took Eskel a good few minutes to process that the song was about Geralt.

He didn’t know what was more surprising. The fact that his brother in arms had let a bard tag along on a hunt, or that he had allowed a song to be composed about him after the fact. Then again, he knew how much the title of ‘The Butcher of Blaviken’ upset Geralt, so maybe being sung about as a hero wouldn’t be so bad after all. Eskel had certainly noticed how this one song had started to affect people’s perceptions of Witchers, however subtle.

After the performance, Eskel had approached the female bard and asked if she was the one who wrote it. Essi, he later found out to be her name, had humbly thanked him but told him that a dear friend of hers had composed it. A bard called Jaskier.

Jaskier.

Eskel was very intrigued.

That winter he waited impatiently for Geralt to join them at Kaer Morhen. He asked Lambert if he had noticed the change and, Lambert being Lambert, had jumped on the chance to use it as a new way of getting into people’s pants. Not that he needed any help with that in the first place, but this new growing respect for Witchers definitely had its advantages.

Vesemir, like Eskel, advised on the err of caution.

“It won’t last,” he had warned, “It never does.”

“All the more reason to reap the benefits now, right Eskel?” Lambert threw him a lewd wink.

Eskel had grunted but not really given Lambert an answer.

When Geralt eventually showed up, just as the first snows started to fall, Eskel quizzed him mercilessly about the bard. He wanted to know how on earth the young human had found himself in the prickly Witcher’s company.

Geralt gave a very stunted story of how he met Jaskier and the adventure that followed but Eskel knew him well enough to see that the bard and his songs had affected Geralt in more ways than one. The White Wolf held affection for Jaskier. His hard edges were slightly softer than they had been last time they met. There was a new warmth to his amber eyes. Geralt, usually so closed off to the world, had unwillingly, or unwittingly, let someone in.

Witchers don’t tend to have friends outside of their own kind, and even then, they usually stick to their own Witcher School, and even then, sometimes ‘friend’ was such a strong word, but Eskel could see that this Jaskier had the potential to help Geralt find that part of himself so many believed was stripped from him when he underwent the mutations.

Geralt of course, insisted that Jaskier was not his friend and, come spring, when Eskel asked him if he was going to travel with the bard again Geralt shrugged with a grunt.

“If our paths cross, our paths cross,” the white haired Witcher answered nonchalantly.

Eskel just rolled his eyes.

“Well thank him for me if they do,” he rumbled.

“What for?” frowned Geralt.

“For the good work he’s doing for all Witcher kind,” Eskel grinned with a wink.

Geralt scoffed, mounted his faithful mare and disappeared down the trail.

As the years passed by and more songs about the White Wolf emerged, Eskel found his job as a Witcher to be less monotonous and more interesting. People were actually willing to converse with him, even offer him better rates for contracts. One barkeep even gave him a free beer because he recognised the wolf medallion around Eskel’s neck.

“You a wolf Witcher? You know that Geralt? Drinks on the house!”

Eskel was sure he’d never get used to it.

And, as he expected, not everyone was keen on the new perspective of Witchers. Some still slandered him in the streets, threw stones, spat at him, tried to pick fights with him that he knew they’d never win. But, thanks to Jaskier and his influence, life as a Witcher had improved considerably.

When Geralt returned to Kaer Morhen each winter, he always brought more stories of his time spent travelling with the bard. Eskel could see the brightness in his eyes and the soft way he spoke about Jaskier. Geralt was warm and open and laughing and joking, and it had been a long time since Eskel had seen him like this. The affect the bard was having on him, it was nice. Good.

Lambert insisted that Geralt should invite Jaskier to Kaer Morhen the next winter. Geralt had laughed it off, saying that Jaskier would much rather spend his winters warm and cosy in Oxenfurt than freezing his balls off with the likes of them, but he could see the thought playing in Geralt’s mind and he really hoped that Geralt would introduce them to the bard next year.

Eskel didn’t have to wait that long though.

It was nearing the end of summer and Eskel was passing through Novigrad. He usually avoided the big cities, but he was running low on a very specific herb to brew his potions and he knew the herbalist off Hierarch Square was the only place for miles around where he could get it.

He had wrapped his travel cloak around himself, making sure his hood hid his face as he ventured into the city. The general attitude and acceptance towards Witchers was better than it had ever been but, in Novigrad, where the majority of the populace was still out to get anyone non-human, he couldn’t be too careful.

His transaction with the herbalist went as smoothly as he could have hoped, and he pocketed the small pouch of herbs carefully. By now though, it was starting to get late and his horse was tired from the long day of traveling so, he decided to stop off in a tavern for the night.

He left his mount in the capable hands of the stable boys and slunk into the ‘Kingfisher’ without drawing too much attention to himself.

The heat of the tavern hit him in a stifling cloud. The tang of alcohol and sweat swirled about him, and the wall of noise was a mixture of shouted conversation and singing along with whomever the entertainment was for the evening.

Eskel wove his way through the many patrons and quietly discussed a room for the night with the barkeep.

Wary of the Witcher, the squat man had warned him if there was any trouble, he’d be out quicker that you could say Gwent. Eskel accepted his terms and found a stool at the edge of the bar to inhabit as he nursed a tankard of ale.

Hood still drawn to shadow his face, he cast his keen eyes over the patrons and his attention was drawn to the musician in front of the hearth.

The bard was a few years shy of thirty. Dark brown windswept looking hair and bright blue eyes. He was stood on a stool and was stamping in time to the beat of his wild lute playing. His voice was rich and just as colourful as the teal doublet and breeches he wore, embroidered and patterned with navy blue.

There was something about him, like he was familiar somehow. Then it hit him. He knew exactly who this bard was.

“Ho Hey

But the Witcher knew

Took a Witcher’s brew

And the Witcher slew.

Ho Hey

And the village knew

That their beast was through

And tossed his way some coin and ale and stew.”

Jaskier beamed as he sang, the patrons around him joining in with this chorus, stamping and clapping in time.

Eskel couldn’t tare his eyes away. Geralt’s description of the bard had been spot on but he could never have been prepared for…well this.

The confidence, the elegance that came with his playing. The animated charm. The way he had everyone around him engaged and enjoying themselves. Eskel could understand why Geralt was drawn to him.

He was barely listening to the lyrics. Just staring at the man who had won over his brother in arms.

Jaskier sang the chorus again then finished with a flourish, grinning at the rambunctious applause.

“Thank you,” he winked at a passing barmaid who swooned, “I will be taking a short break but fear not. I will return.”

There was a mixture of cheers and protests as the young bard skipped through the crowd and leaned over the bar, very close to where Eskel was sitting.

Gods above, Eskel thought to himself, his scent!

Jaskier smelled like lavender and sandalwood, fresh parchment and woodsmoke. It was a scent that Eskel had picked up on many occasions throughout the last few winters. Lingering on Geralt’s clothing, on Roach’s saddlebags.

With a goblet of wine in hand, Jaskier thanked a woman who was excitedly complimenting his singing and when she finally melted back into the throng, he took a long drink and then rested his gaze on Eskel.

Amber eyes met blue and Jaskier quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, well, well,” the bard crooned, voice thick with curiosity, “Dark and mysterious stranger who has been ogling me since he came in turns out to be a dark and mysterious Witcher.”

Eskel swallowed hard, not quite sure what to say to him. Not that it really mattered because Jaskier barely paused for breath before he continued.

“Let me see. Wolf Witcher,” Jaskier indicated the medallion just visible through the folds of grey cloak then narrowed his eyes at him, “You must be Eskel.”

Eskel absently touched the long scar tracking down the right side of his face. Of course Geralt had talked about his brothers with the bard, described them to his friend.

Jaskier’s expression softened.

“No,” he smiled kindly, “It’s the eyes, the jaw. You look a lot like Geralt. Except, you know, he has white hair and you’ve got – is it dark brown? Black? Anyway. I’m Jaskier.”

Eskel hesitated before taking the offered hand and Jaskier shook it enthusiastically.

“I imagine Geralt has mentioned me. Though not all bad, I hope. So, what brings you to Novigrad? Some monster lurking about? You doing some Witchering?”

Eskel was baffled by this young man.

Jaskier talked quickly without much pause for thought, true, but he was talking to him like…they were equals. Friends even. The bard was warm and open and ridiculously handsome, though Eskel would never tell Geralt that he thought so. There wasn’t an ounce of the usual fear he experiences when talking to people. No guarded expression. No hidden motivation. Just an imploring gaze and friendly smile.

Eskel understood completely why Geralt had given in to allowing Jaskier to travel with him. He didn’t see what everyone else saw. Didn’t see the Witcher, the monster, the savage killer. He saw Geralt. And now, he saw Eskel.

“Thank you,” Eskel heard himself say.

Confusion twitched in Jaskier’s expression and he tilted his head slightly.

“For what?” he hummed.

For what? Eskel bit his cheek. For helping to improve Geralt’s image? For being Geralt’s friend? For changing how people see Witchers? For increasing the payment prospects of contracts for Witchers across the continent? For everything?

“For your songs,” he settled on.

Jaskier flashed him a dazzling smile.

“You’re welcome,” he smirked.

Eskel realised that Jaskier had no idea how much his songs had actually affected the Witchers and their place in the continent. He had no idea that singing about Geralt was just the start of a ripple that had spread across the lands and changed people for the better. He had no idea of the legacy he was building, for himself, for his friend, and for all the working Witcher’s who used to struggle to get a decent price for even a few Drowners.

The fame of Jaskier the bard wasn’t exclusive to the high courts and bustling taverns. Jaskier had no idea how big his impact actually was.

And Eskel didn’t have the first clue on how to start telling him.

“You staying in Novigrad long?” Jaskier asked breezily, taking a sip from his goblet.

“Not if I can help it,” the Witcher shrugged.

“No jobs enticing enough to make you change your mind?”

“Unfortunately no one puts out contracts on Priests of the Eternal Fire,” Eskel grunted.

Jaskier snorted into his wine and Eskel felt his lips pull in a small smile.

“Fair enough,” Jaskier composed himself, eyes blazing with mirth, “We can’t always be so lucky.”

“What about you? How long are you here for?” being drawn into conversation with the bard was easy. It felt natural and relaxed and safe.

“Meh, who knows? Until I bore of the markets and politics and need to get back out there on the Path,” Jaskier frowned at the dregs lining the bottom of his goblet and Eskel flagged down the barkeep to order more drinks.

“Going to look for Geralt?” Eskel glanced at Jaskier over the top of his tankard.

“I might,” Jaskier shot him a playful grin, “Unless you want the company on the road for a while.”

It was Eskel’s turn to choke slightly on his drink.

“A new muse could be just what I need. How about it Eskel? Not all my songs have to be about Geralt, you know.”

Eskel caught those blue eyes and held them for a moment.

“Sure. Why not?” he rumbled.

“Excellent,” Jaskier clapped his hands together gleefully, “You and me Eskel, we’re gonna change the world.”

You already have, Eskel thought to himself, and I’m going to spend whatever time we have together making you see it. Making you understand. Showing you what you’ve done for us. For me. And for Geralt. The affect you’ve had on all Witchers and the world you have created for us. Just you wait and see.

Impalaloompa on ao3

[rohad93]

Worth the Fight: Chap 4

Early the next morning Luz quickly made her way from the inn to the town square with King trotting along at her side, allowing her to make her way through the crowds easily as people moved to get away from the furry, black beast. Luz rolled her eyes at the occasional witch who would practically dive out of the way at the sight of him, she was sure he seemed amused by it though. Her demonic companion just had a way of conveying himself that was easily translatable for Luz and Eda. She finished stuffing the last of her breakfast of bread and cheese into her mouth and tossed King the last scrap of the dried meat as they walked, he caught it, teeth making a loud snapping noise as his jaws closed around it, making a couple of passerby's jump. Without ever actually talking about it, ownership of King had just sort of shifted to Luz, though Eda claimed she’d never owned him, to begin with, he’d just started following her one day. He'd appeared one night, injured and one of his horns freshly snapped off and fell down at her fireside. Eda had tended to him and he’d just never gone away, just like Luz herself. The older knight seemed to have a way of collecting the hurt and hungry.

The sun had only just risen over the city walls, but already the streets were alive with noise and movement. People hocking things on every street corner, yelling to be heard over the crowds, and the other vendors all trying to shout over each other. It was invigorating actually, the liveliness of it all, especially after the dreary little town of Beldville. That and the fact that she didn’t need to walk around with the hood of her cloak pulled up to cover her ears. No one seemed to even look at her twice as she walked around, they had places to be and stuff to do, no time to be needlessly condescending to her it seemed.

She watched the people as they passed, the market was the obvious melting pot of the city, there were beggars lined along the streets, as there were in every city, but there was also common folk, dressed much like her and nobles, easily identifiable by their manner of dress, not fit to work in, and the way they walked around with their noses stuck up in the air.

What Luz didn't see, no matter where she looked, were humans, not that it was very odd. Luz couldn't remember the last time she'd run into a fellow human, maybe not since her mother had died seven years ago. They had lived away from everyone, human and witch, in a little shack on the edge of the woods, in bothered until…

Luz shook her head, casting away the thought, today was the start of a brand new chapter of her life, she wasn't going to dwell on painful memories today.

She straightened and forcefully shoved those memories to the farthest recesses of her mind and with renewed focus made her way to the center of the market, the jovial sounds of the people around her now sound distant and muffled.

The job boards are easy enough to find, three tall, large wooden plaques on stands in the middle of the town square, sitting in front of a large fountain, with various pieces of parchment tacked to them, advertising people's need for labor.

Luz pursed her lips as she looked at all the different jobs, hope falling quickly as she scanned the papers

The job boards are filled with all kinds of tasks, deliveries, or pickups mostly, but a few odds and ends, such as finding someone's lost rooster or foraging for herbs in the woods, none of which interest Luz in the slightest. She was hoping for something a little more exciting, like fighting the cockatrice the other night had been, but the city seems to be rather lacking in beasts running amok at the moment.

She reached up and scratched her new scar with a blunt nail as she thought about that wild adventure. She would be ready next time. She still needed to study her book when she had the time, but later. She focused on the boards.

It’s mostly a lot of the same grunt work or manual labor. She frowned to herself as she looked over the many papers and even a few wanted posters with silver or even gold rewards, but that’s probably a little beyond her experience, wise at this point, that’s going to be a plan 'Z' right now.

She sighed to herself and pulled the slip of parchment out of her pocket, it had a guy's name and the name of a pub Eda had told her was down by the docks. He was supposedly the go-between for the noble families looking to hire and people looking for work.

She really hadn’t wanted to do that, but Eda gave her and King her last meal this morning, from this point on she had to make her own way or go hungry.

She sighed again and squared her shoulders as she turned to make her way down to the docks, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she needed to eat and maybe if she did enough boring grunt work for some nobles she could save up to give herself a cushion so she wouldn’t need to worry about going hungry while looking for other work that was a little more like what she wanted.

‘Hexside’ is already full of patrons drinking the day away when she arrives.

It doesn’t take her long to find the pub in question, it’s sitting right on the water and it looks like every other pub Luz had ever seen in her seventeen years. A large, building with worn, sun-dried wood and drunkards hanging around out front, looking for money to buy more of their liquid diet. She wrinkled her nose at the briny fish smell that filled the air of the docks as they walked up to the doors.

“Wait here, Bud.” She scratched King’s head, leaving him sitting outside as she wedged her way into the dim watering hole and made a beeline for the bar. For being just after sunup the place is already half full and reeks of alcohol and body odor. She would prefer the fishy smell of the docks.

The barkeep gave her a sideways look as she sidled up to the bar, no doubt looking at her ears, she barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“I’m looking for Morton?” she asked him uncertainly and he nodded toward the back, where a skinny guy in dark brown monk robes and a strange conical hat was sitting at a table, a pile of papers in front of him and a mug of mead in one hand.

She pushed her way through the bar toward the little table in the back.

“Morton?” she called and he looked up, tensing, eyes darting around.

“Who wants to know?” He was looking at her cautiously.

“I’m Luz Noceda, I’m looking for work,” she explained.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you’re Eda’s apprentice, right?” he asked and she nodded. “Yeah, she said you’d be by, I saved a job for ya.” He flipped through the papers and picked one up. “Guard duty for a noble family.”

“Guard duty?” Luz slumped, disappointed as Morton looked back up at her.

“Look, Kid, this is a well paying and relatively easy job, anyone I’ve seen today would kill for this, but I held it back for you as a favor to E, it’s also the only work I have left for the next couple days, so take it or leave it.”

Luz knows that she needs to work, even if it isn’t exactly what she had in mind, it is work and thus, food in her mouth; that motivates her more than anything.

“I’ll take it.” she took the paper being held out to her.

“Good, the noble family are the Blights'. A lot of their usual guards have been sent across the sea to fight in the war, they need to replace the ones that guard their manor, head over there now, that paper will get you in.”

“Thanks,” Luz nodded and turned to go, paper in hand. King jumped up and followed after her as she walked out the door.

“I guess a job is a job if we want to eat, right, Bud?” she looked down at the furry beast that stood as tall as her waist and patted his head.

She had to stop and ask for directions a few times but finally found the large manor on the eastern side of the city, just outside the main walls on a large plot of land and surrounded by a tall, black, wrought iron fence. It was at least three stories and made of smooth almost white stone.

"I guess this is it…," Luz spoke aloud, mostly to herself, but also to King.

A single guard, not much older than her stood outside the gate, looking bored, but he seemed to perk up as Luz approached.

“State your business.”

“I’m here to see… Hieronymus Bump?” Luz glanced at the paper in hand. Was she saying that name right?

The guard took the paper and looked it over before nodding and handing it back.

“Right, follow me.” He jerked his head and led them inside the gate to the manor doors.

“Stay here, King.” She held up a hand and the beast stayed where he was, sitting just outside the gate as she disappeared inside the manor.

“Whoa…,” Luz mumbled to herself as they stepped inside. The reception area is large with smooth polished stone floors and a large staircase that leads up to the second floor before it splits off to the left and right while the sconces that lined the walls glow with fire that she can tell immediately isn't natural, magic of some kind.

The house seemed to be decorated in a dark green and burgundy color scheme. The banners that line the walls feature both colors, with a serpentine creature that could be a dragon or maybe a malformed snake, twisted across the two fields of color and thorny vines wrapped around it.

The rest of the house is just as lavishly decorated as the entryway and she looked around owlishly at everything as the guard led her down the halls before they finally stopped at a door and he knocked.

“Yes?” a deep voice drifted through the door.

“A new recruit, sir.”

“Send them in.”

The guard gestured to the door before walking away as Luz stepped inside, looking around.

It’s a study, the walls are lined with bookshelves, fit too near bursting, and a desk on the other side of the room, from which a man is sitting behind, looking at her with serious, teal eyes.

“We don’t have all day, come in.” He motioned with a hand and she quickly scurried inside, closing the door behind her and moved to stand in front of the desk. The man was elderly and wearing some kind of creature over his head. Luz had to admit, for all the strange things she had seen over the years, that was a new one.

“Your papers?” he held out a wrinkled hand with long pointed nails. Luz handed over the parchment and he scanned it quickly. “You came for one of the guard positions?”

“I did... um, sir.” she nodded and he finally looked at her, really looked at her, and Luz swallowed thickly as his gaze lingered on her ears. Stupid, rounded ears!

“You are?” he questioned.

“Oh, Luz Noceda… sir!”

“I don’t suppose you have any qualifications?” He drummed his fingers impatiently across the polished wood of his desk.

“I’ve spent the last five years training under Eda, the Owl Knight…,” she trailed off. Eda’s name usually garnered one of two reactions, contempt or reluctantly impressed. She was just that kind of person.

The man’s face turned thoughtful for a long moment, stroking his chin with a hand.

“You’re Edalyn’s student, hmm?” His eyes narrowed. “I take that to mean she’s back in town…, just what we need,” he grumbled tiredly. “Very well, hopefully, you won’t cause half as much mayhem as Edalyn,” he grunted, standing and walking around the desk, hands folded behind his back. “I am Sir Hieronymus Bump, the steward of Blight Manor, I see to most affairs in Lord and Lady Blight’s stead as well as serve as a tutor to their children.” He introduced himself as he came to stand in front of Luz. “You will take your orders from me, or a member of the Blight family, and no one else, understood?”

“Uh, yes sir!” Luz saluted, back going ramrod straight and Bump nodded, pleased.

“Let me outline your duties then, you will stay here, in the guard barracks six days of the week, night and day, to perform guard duty for the manor and family as needed…”

Luz mentally deflated at that, she would need to live here until this job was finished. Maybe this wasn’t the job for her. She was just about to voice as much when Bump continued on.

“Meals will be provided to you and every fortnight you will collect your payment of thirty silver a day from me.”

Luz almost choked on her spit at that. Thirty silver a day? That was… a lot of money, She could put a lot of money away for future adventures and she wouldn’t need to spend any of it on food..

“Understood?” Bump is looking at her with a considering gaze and Luz nodded.

“I understand, sir.”

“Very well, go, collect your things and be back before sundown, I will give you your duties to commence first thing in the morning.” He turned and walked back to his desk at the dismissal.

Luz wasted no time disappearing out the door and back to the front door. King’s ears perked up when she approached, trotting across the yard and through the gate.

“Let’s go, Bud, we gotta tell Eda!” She grinned as they raced back through the city toward the Redstone inn.

She couldn’t believe her luck, sure, it was a far cry from the exciting adventures of slaying monsters or hunting down bandits that she had envisioned, but it was a good place to start, for sure.

Eda isn’t there when they get to the Inn, which she should have expected, she was still out on a job no doubt, but Luz had time, she could wait for her mentor to return before she left.

She gathered up her meager possessions in a sack. Some spare clothes, her new magic book, and a small, wooden box that carried her most cherished possession. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood and smiled sadly to herself before she set it carefully in the bag.

It doesn’t take long before Eda returned, looking haggard from her day doing who even knew what.

Luz immediately launched into her story about the job, sparing no detail. Eda whistled.

“Thirty silver a day? That’s a lot of money to stand around looking like you’re busy. This must be one rich family.” Eda hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“I’m not going to help you rob them…” Luz frowned, already knowing by the look on Eda’s face what she was thinking.

“You’re no fun,” Eda grumbled, leaning back on the bed, and crossing her arms. “Good job, Kid. You’ll be great.” She grinned.

“Thanks…” she smiled but Eda could see the unsure look on her face and her voice lacked its usual amount of pep.

“What’s the matter?” she cocked her head. Luz shrugged, making a face.

“I guess it just feels real now, we’re not gonna be traveling or staying together anymore, I’m going off on my own… I’m not your apprentice anymore… I’m going to miss you,” she admitted, looking at Eda, eyes glazing over.

“You’re such a sap,” Eda huffed but smiled as she stood from the bed to stand in front of Luz. “No, we won’t. You’re as ready as you’re ever going to be, you just need experience, and you’re not going to get it following me around, but hey, I think I’m gonna stay in town for some time, so as I said, I’ll be around if you need any advice or just miss this lovely face.” She batted her eyes, making Luz snort. Eda slapped a hand atop Luz’s head, even though she was just as tall as her now, a far cry from when they first met five years ago and ruffled her hair. Luz grinned as she did. “But yeah, I’ll miss seeing you every day too, Luz.”

Without warning, Luz threw her arms around the older witch and squeezed, and for once, Eda didn’t complain about the hug, just squeezed her back for a moment before pushing her back to arm's length.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough affection, you got places to be and it isn’t here being emotional all over me,” Eda smirked, planting a hand on her hip.

“Right!” Luz picked her sack up off the bed and tossed it over her shoulder.

“Don’t forget that one.” Eda jerked her thumb at King, laying sprawled out on her bed without a care in the world. Luz nodded and stuck two fingers in her mouth, giving off a high pitched whistle that made King shoot up off the bed and hop to her side. Eda reached out and scratched the spot between his horns.

“You take care of her, furball,” Eda smirked at him.

King seemed to huff in response, but his eyes narrowed pleasurably as she scratched his head.

“Now get outta here, we’ll see each other again before you know it.” She smiled and Luz nodded, smiling back before she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She sighed and straightened up as she turned to King.

"Okay Bud, it's you and me against the world, a woman and her demon wolf!"

King let out a deafening bark in response.

"Get out of here already!" Eda's voice called through the door.

Luz laughed to herself as they trotted down the hall and out of the inn.

[pinktatertots99]

numbered trolls: be idiots! aka yes i fell down the rabit hole BAD. anyways abouts:

your name is jiyugo scaped. your a mutant blood that the queen specifically has you forced to stay in your shared living space with your roommates. you don’t give a crap bout how sour she is about your ancestor making her look incompetant but what you do care is getting your lusus guard’s veins pumping everytime ya try to escape before falling on your ass back into your living place. but you do care bout finding the jackass who put these weird ass accessories on you that make you become troll scissorhands when you unlock your syladex, which is rare.

8 1/2 sweeps. rogue of breath. derse. quirk: (_at the beginning and ) at the end of a sentence. also 1 = i and 5 = u (_ and yes you know your moirail uses the 1 too fuck you he said it’d be cool)

your name is uhnuoh amgleb. you may have the knack of reading minds, but you’d rather read bodies...yes you use that on all the cuties~. anyways you have a knack for card games, gambling, and keeping your weird ass roommates from getting into shit situations. you love offering your syladex to others to have them pick what syladex to choose as if your a magician asking if that is their card...or to pull pranks cause need a good smart chuckle.

9 sweeps. seer of light. derse. quirk: 1 = i

your name is nikcow nijugo. you love your troll animes troll rpgs troll cosplays troll-...your a troll weaboo basically. you carry around in your syladex medications otherwise your as unhinged as a bard player...or a makara but uno told you not to break the fourth wall so much.

8 sweeps. heir of life. prospit. quirk: 2 = T and 5 = S

your name is rockuo juukuu. you live in a cycle of eating, using your strength to get you outta places, pet wild beasts and eat again as the cycle repeats. your also able to speak to the dead which is kinda funny when you scare the webs outta uno. otherwise your roughhousing and trying to have an alright time

9 1/2 sweeps. knight of heart. prospit. quirk: 6 = O and 9 = B

your name is tsukum oshinb. your a very famous fusia actor who was stolen by your family, a group of fusia shinobi who had no interest in the royal life when you were just getting out of your first molt. now your here in the giant shared living place trying to find your self and get back to your troll shinobi roots and hoping no one can see through your obviously perfect disguise. for now you go train with one of the lusi guards and hang with jiyugo.

11 sweeps. page of void. derse. quirk: 9 = N

your name is musasi harson. long ago you were just a regular troll going to school making your ancestors proud...until they died and you were framed for it. instead of getting culled you were sent to be imprisoned by a bastard with a scar, using your weirdly warm blood despite your teal status to have you use elemental fire in attacks. least your gone from there and honestly your cold collected lusus guard and barkbeasts he has around is alot more better. you spend your time reading and trying to socialize...doesn’t work alot but ey better then what you had before, which was nothing.

10 1/2 sweeps. mage of time. prospit. quirk: 6 = S, 3 = R and 4 = F

[thestoryofustaylorsversion]

Folklore perspectives ✨

As Taylor said, each folklore tale is told from either her perspective, her friends’s perspective or perspectives of those she has never met before.

Here’s who’s perspective I believe each tale is told✨

The 1- taylor’s perspective looking back at a past friendship (most likely in her 20’s) she may have thought would be more OR betty’s perspective on how she wished things worked out different with james (during the roaring 1920s?)

‘If you really wanted me then you really should’ve shown’

‘Roaring twenties, throwing pennies in the pool. And if my wishes came true, it would have been you”

‘It could have been sweet, if it could have been me’

‘In my defense, I have none. For digging up the grave another time’

‘It could have been fun, if you would have been the one’

cardigan- betty’s perspective on her & james relationship when she’s older (reflecting on what she was told she knew vs what she knew)

‘When you are young they assume you know nothing’

‘But I new you...’

‘When I felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed. You put me on and said I was your favorite.’

‘Chase two girls, lose the one’

‘Tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.’

‘I knew everything when I was young’

‘I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs’

‘I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired. And you’d be standing in my front porch light. And you’d come back to me’

the last great american dynasty - rebekah & taylor’s perspective on similar circumstances of being perceived as loud, mad and shamless

‘there goes the loudest/ maddest/ shameless woman this town has ever seen’

‘And then it was bought by me’

‘She/ I had a marvelous time ruining everything’

exile- james & betty’s perspective when they are a bit older on how they fell apart; how they refuse to listen to each other

‘I can see you standing honey, with his arms around your body’

‘I can see you staring honey, like he’s just your understudy’

‘I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending’

‘We always walked a very thin line’

‘Took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it’

‘Second, third and hundredth chances.’

‘You didn’t even hear me out’

‘You never/ I gave so many signs’

my tears ricochet- taylor’s perspective on the story of her masters being stolen from under her

‘Even on my worst day. Did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me?’

‘Cause I loved you, swear I loved you.’

‘I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace.’

‘And if I’m dead why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed, look at how my tears ricochet.’

‘You wear the same jewels that I gave you, as you bury me’

‘I can anywhere just not home’

‘I still talk to you, as I’m screaming at the sky’

‘And when you can’t sleep at night. You hear my stollen lullabies’

mirrorball - taylor‘s perspective of her career

‘I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight’

‘I can change everything about me to fit in’

‘But I’m still on my tallest tip toes. Spinning in my highest heels, love. Shining just for you’

‘I know they said the end is near’

‘I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try try try’

‘I’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me’

seven- taylor‘s perspective as a child, before she is forced to grow up and become a woman

‘Picture me in the tree’

‘I peaked at seven”

‘We can be pirates’

‘Please picture me in the weeds’

‘Before I learn civility’

‘I used to scream ferociously’

august- james’ summer fling’s perspective on their summer romance

‘Are you sure? Never have I ever before’

‘I can see us lost in the memory’

‘August slipped away to a moment in time’

‘Cause you were never mine’

‘I remember thinking I had you’

‘For me it was enough’

‘So much for summer love and saying us’

‘Back when I was living for the hope of it all’

this is me trying- told from the perspective of James when he’s a little older, who feels he lost his way and is trying to find his way back after losing betty

‘I have a lot of regrets about that’

‘They told me all my cages were mental. So I got wasted like all my potential’

‘Fell behind all my classmates now I’ve ended up here’

‘But I’m here in your doorway’

‘It’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound’

‘It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you’

‘You’re a flashback on a film reel on the one screen in my town’

illicit affairs- a young woman’s perspective on having an affair with someone older

‘I tell my friends I’m out for a run, you’ll be flushed when you return’ (makes me think she’s in college, living with friends)

‘What started in beautiful rooms ends with meetings in parking lots’

‘That’s the thing about illicit affairs and clandestine meetings and longing stares’

‘Take the words for what they are. A dwindling mercurial high’

‘They show their truth just one single time but they lie and they lie and they lie a million little times.’

‘Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby’

‘Look at this idiotic fool that you made me’

invisible string- taylor’s perspective on fate bringing her to her lover, joe; time heals all things

‘isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me’

‘a single thread of gold tied me to you.’

‘green was color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial park, I used to think I’d meet somebody there ’

‘Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop’

‘Bad was the blood of the song in the can on your first trip to LA’

‘Bold was the waitress on our three-year-trio getting lunch down by the lakes. She said I looked like an American singer’

‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, but now I sent their babies presents’

‘Time, mystical, time, cutting me open and healing me fine’

‘Gave me the blues then purple pink skies (lover)’

‘Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial park’

‘Hell was a journey but it brought me heaven’

‘A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms and to that dive bar’

mad woman- taylor‘s perspective of how she (and other female artists) has been persecuted by the media, celebrities and her former record label

‘What did they think I’d say to that?’

‘They strike to kill and you know I will’

‘Does she smile? Or does she mouth “fuck you forever”’

‘Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy’

‘Women like hunting witches too’

‘I breathe fire each time I talk’

‘It’s obvious wanting me dead has really brought you two together’

‘Cause you took everything from me. Watching you climb, watching you climb. Over people like me’

‘No one likes a mad woman, you made her like that’

epiphany- a soldier’s (her grandfather’s) perspective, a medial worker’s perspective, a hero’s battle story

‘crawling up the beaches now, I think he’s bleeding out’

‘some things you just can’t speak about’

‘hold your hands through plastic’

‘keep your helmet, keep your life son’

‘Something med school did not cover’

‘with you I serve, with you I fall down’

‘watch you breathin in, watch you breathin out’

‘doc, I think she’s crashing out’

‘only 20 minutes to sleep, but you dream of some epiphany’

betty- james’ perspective when he was seventeen, after he came back from his summer with ‘august’. He chased two girls and now he wants betty back.

‘would you tell me to go fuck myself or lead me to the garden’

‘you heard the rumors from Inez, you can’t believe a word she says, most times but this time it was true’

‘it was only a summer thing’

‘plus I saw you dance with him’

‘the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you’

‘I’m only seventeen I don’t know anything but I know I miss you’

‘I was walking home on broken cobblestones’

‘i slept next to her but I dreamed of you all summer long’

‘I’m here on your doorstep’

‘will you have me? will you love me?’

‘will this fix your broken wings?’

peace- taylor telling joe she knows she can’t give him everything he may need (peace) and is asking if that is still enough? Also a promise to do everything that she can do for him.

‘Would it be enough if I never bring you peace?’

‘You paint dream scapes on the wall, I talk shit with my friends. It’s like I’m wasting you honor’

‘People think love is for show, but I’d die for you in secret’

‘Give you my wild, give you a child’

‘The rain is always gonna come when you’re standing with me’

‘I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm’

‘You got a friend in me’

hoax- taylor making promise to joe that no matter what happens she will always be there for him; also makes references to how he’s the only one who understands her and her pain just like she understands his

‘Don’t want no other shade of blue but you’

‘No other sadness in the world would do’

‘I left a part of me back in new york’

‘You know it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart’

‘Stood on the cliffside screaming “give me a reason”’

‘Your faithless love is the hoax I believe in’

‘My broken drum, you have beaten my heart’

Although so many songs are written from many character’s perspective, I absolutely adore how certain lines in most songs are clearly about taylor. She’s such a magical author to weave her life into her character’s lives in her folklore stories ✨🖤🧚‍♂️

I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS ALBUM 🖤🖤🖤

@taylorswift @taylornation 🖤✨🧚‍♂️

[aerisdraws]

Owl & Raven

My entry for @tyrias-library’s Valentines writing event. The prompt is Soulmates. I hope everyone feels loved, by themselves and others, this Valentine’s season!

Fire and snow. Mountains and valleys. Tradition and innovation.

All of these things complete each other in an eternal cycle. Without one, you could not have the other. No matter how far apart, the two would find each other. The very axis of Life and Death was centered on this principle. Time and space could not withstand the impossible, all-consuming inevitability of fate.

These are how immortal bonds were forged. The great scales of balance would swing, back-and-forth, forever seeking true equilibrium. Occasionally, this pure balance was reached – if only for a second, before the sway of destiny continued.

This unbreakable bond defined everything: from the rise and fall of empires; the life and death of the Dragons; the ebb and flow of money, magic, love, rain… It is what created mortal enemies and destined lovers.

The Norn have a complicated relationship with fate and destiny. On rare occasions it is said that a particular Norn is ‘destined for greatness’… or to fall. Creating one’s own legend, carving their name in stone, is no small task. To give credit to fate for your own blood, sweat and tears would be an insult to any Norn. It is not destiny who decides whose story shall be sung by the skaalds; it is the people… yet one cannot help but wonder what thread binds us all together.

Kàra has gazed up at the stars on many nights, pondering the question. Do these faraway glinting lights hold the answers we seek? Does the past decide the future? She lived a simple life, deep in the snow-capped mountains of the Shiverpeaks: her and her six sisters, along with her parents. They led a secluded life, but Kàra was not one to wander far. Family was everything to her. What point was there in going on grand adventures, if you had none with whom to share it? What did your successes matter, without people to celebrate along your side? She took immense pride in helping raise her sisters and caring for her elders. The biggest adventures for Kàra were her trips to Hoelbrak every few months, to gather supplies her family could not obtain in the wild… and also hair dye. Even hermits have their frivolities.

The teal-haired giantess still remembers the day of her fateful trip to Hoelbrak. Her second sister, Astrid, had told her to keep an eye out for omens. Astrid had always been an odd one, dabbling with death and dreams. She’d taken to practicing reading palms, which had earned her quite a bit of mockery among the nearby villagers – what kind of self-respecting Norn would believe in a story pre-written? It was known, you make your own fate. Still, Kàra kept a lookout for those omens.

Some internal pull, a curiosity, had led the giantess to the Spirit lodges. Her family had a long history with Owl, but since her sacrifice, they turned to Bear. She was going to visit Bear Lodge first, but… when an owl crossed her path and perched itself upon the ice sculpture of Raven, Kàra was compelled to follow. Omen or not, she could visit Bear later.

It was at that moment that the threads of their fate intertwined.

He was sitting at the back, by the fire. A great feast lay on the table nearby, pecked and picked at by the shamans and visitors. This great man, sitting by himself, had one small plate in front of him. What intrigued her about him was that this man was satiating his hunger not with food, but with a book.

He spotted her. She stood out like a sore thumb, a wild animal in a library, tall and dark-skinned with teal hair. She looked about the room and walked as though the walls would close in on her. The raven-haired giant had handled fire before, an untamed and primal force. With a warm smile and a warmer voice, he invited her to join him at his table. So she did. She introduced herself as Kàra Skögul, daughter of the Hermit. He was Thorvald the Ironclad, forgeman and follower of Raven.

Fate was sealed.

From that day forth, Kàra would venture to Hoelbrak not only for supplies, but also to visit him. Over delicious homemade meals, he expanded her world: from reading and writing to tales of lands beyond the snow. Of course any follower of Raven would enjoy teaching, and Kàra was an eager student. In exchange, she told him of her life in the mountains, the stories behind her scars, hunting with her sisters. Thor was an odd one, wearing human clothing, sipping wine from strange nations, and generally being… very unlike other Norn. They were each unique in their own way.

Snow falls, and snow melts. Fire blazes, and smoulders.

In time they were brought onto their own paths, drawn apart. Months would go by without any word from one another, but Kàra knew she would see him before long. Her sisters wondered why she was suddenly so excited to return to Hoelbrak – didn’t Kàra hate crowds? – but she never spoke a word of it.

Their threads wove together, and apart. The wheel turned, as did the seasons.

Kàra returned for supplies.

She returned for stories.

For comfort and help, after her youngest sister was murdered.

For healing when strange new powers overtook her.

And, finally, for a home.

It was not the first time Norn had been through an exodus – but it was a first for her, to be exiled. Banished from her homelands until she won the favour of the Spirits once more.

The threads that bound Kàra and Thorvald together finally united as they swore their loyalty to one another.

With whom better to forge a legend, than one of the greatest smiths?

With whom better to hound glory, than one of the finest huntswomen?

[loyalflutist]

I’m Yours (F!Byleth x Edelgard) *R-18+

Challenge: Edeleth Twitter Week (09/29/2019 - 10/05/2019) Day 6: I’m Yours

A/N: I was busy on 10/04 the entire day, so the fictions are starting to be backed up by a day or two. Also, since I’m not sure why Tumblr is hiding my lemons... (I wrote one for Dorothea and there was an older one with Edeleth that somehow disappeared from the search results...) Hence, I’ll begin to tag them as “LEMON THE LEMONADE” rather than the usual tag. 

Also, beware of minor implications of nonconsensual activity and massive spoilers about Byleth’s origin and the following characters: Sothis, Rhea, Seteth, Flayn, Jeralt. 

---

People sometimes think the world revolves around them. A singular entity in a vast space that shines the brightest. It was their life, and it was their life alone. No one has any control over it. Not their family. Not their friends. Not their enemies. No one. Absolutely no one. They were who they were. No one can define their existence.

Yet fate is sometimes cruel. That singular entity— that person, can be manipulated and placed under a hold from their oppressors. Brutal methods were enforced to brainwash the individual. Terrorize them. Drag them down with metallic chains fit for wild beasts. Mouths muffled by hands tainted with their very own blood. Blindfolds concealing the truth from them. False beliefs instilled into them. Obedience a necessity to survive the next day. And when a savior appears, they are taken away just as quickly as they appear. Oh, how terrifying it must be to open up to their significant other! Everything can go south so quickly… as for Byleth Eisner.

‘ I don’t want to be used. ‘

A shudder ran down her spine amidst her violent trembles. The teal-haired can be spotted in her private quarter, seated on her royal mattress in her loungewear. Legs pulled close to her chest, Byleth’s fingers tangled with her locks, her nails digging into the sensitive scalp. The weak heart that finally came back to life thumped heavily upon her chest; its pounding reaching her eardrums. These symptoms were becoming more and more frequent as the days crawled by… She gritted her teeth and felt her respiration hastened.

‘ I’m scared. ‘

How out of character, one may ask! She stands strong in adversary with features relating her to the infamous nickname, “Ashen Demon.” She commands the armies and battalions with ease. She commends those with their valiant efforts. She becomes a sly fox when teasing her alumni. She pridefully married an emperor of the Adrestian Empire. Hark, is this the Byleth everyone has come to respect and love?

The aftermath of the war was over, but the physical and emotional scars remain. Upon learning the truth about her origin from Rhea, Seteth, Flayn, and Jeralt, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under a hole and stay put. A rush of emotions that she had been bottling up over the years was becoming to rear its head from the corner— That wasn’t right… It came crashing into her fragile mental state like a tsunami. War had kept her emotions in check, but now that the main conflict was finally over with the staggering defeat of Rhea, nothing was keeping them back. Accompanied by poor coping mechanisms, it was inevitable PTSD would terrorize the ex-mercenary every night.

“I’m sorry to leave you behind like this, Byleth...”

No…

“We’re like family!”

No…!

“It is my duty to protect you.”

No!

“Mother, you have returned.”

“NO!!!”

“Byleth?!”

“?!”

She instinctively lashed out to the speaker with her hand. It stopped mid-air by a powerful grip. Dread overwhelmed the older woman as she tugged away from its captor. A couple of attempts failed, their hold was overpowering. Fear clenched her throat and choked her as whimpers trickled out. Why can’t she get away?! Through her blurred vision in the dark room, she began to cry; tears flowed down her cheeks like a waterfall.

The figure holding her was none other than Rhea. She had that holy smile, that holy aura, and that holy title glued to her physical existence. Yet the maiden stared directly into her shivering soul. Those same loving eyes that she once possessed similarities to. The one that she could easily call her “daughter.” Byleth quivered as she used her other hand to weakly push away from the female.

“Don’t call me Mother!”

“BYLETH!”

Rhea instantly disappeared in a blink of an eye. At that same moment, warmth immediately enveloped her entire body and blackened her sight. It was like a protective bubble… a blanket that someone had draped over her physical and spiritual body. Scarlet carnation’s aroma fluttered to her nose from the person’s bosoms. Their arms tightened its hold on the professor as said-person whispered,

“Byleth, it’s me.”

Now it wasn’t the voice of Rhea that vibrated her eardrums. It was the voice of her wife; Edelgard von Hresvelg had pulled her into a firm embrace.

Acknowledging her presence froze Byleth in place. She tried to peel away from her chest only to find it a futile try, the emperor resting a hand on the back of her head. The professor deeply inhaled her scent. Then, she exhaled her shaky hot breaths into Edelgard. This was embarrassing. Her meltdowns were meant for private eyes only, and those private eyes belong to herself. The fact that her wife just witnessed her disastrous distress might color her in a different light. She is her professor, she is older than her, and she has more experience in life than the white-haired. She wasn’t supposed to act this way.

“Byleth…”

“…”

Silence ensued afterward. Not a peep came out of Byleth’s mouth. The noble softly exhaled and pressed her lips upon her wife’s head. Fingers eventually ran through the teal hair, her nails gently scratching Byleth’s scalp. Small bursts of euphoria washed over her scrambled mind from Edelgard’s heavenly motions; drowsiness nearly making its way forward. Byleth adjusted the position of her head as a melancholic tune filled the quiet atmosphere.

“The footsteps of the lost child cease to be heard

Replaced only by that song of prayer

The song soon becomes that burning lamp

Guiding on that wandering traveler…”

It was rare to hear Edelgard sing. Whenever she participated in the fine arts, she would never dare express her interest with them to the public. Not even to her own wife out of embarrassment. However, tonight was an exception. The sorrow that dripped from the lyrics, yet there was a sense of consolation from those words showered to the listener.

Footsteps from the lost child…

That would be Edelgard.

Replaced only by a song of prayer…

That would be Edelgard.

The song that soon becomes a burning lamp…

That would be Edelgard.

Guiding on the wandering traveler…

That would be Byleth.

The two shifted their posture so Edelgard would easily hug Byleth on the bed. They laid down with Byleth holding onto her wife for dear life. Their legs tangled and a blanket providing additional warmth to the solemn night. Peering through the windows was the moonlight basking their resting figures. Despite the height difference, it appears Edelgard was the tall one in the relationship at this moment. She continued to scratch her wife’s head as she sang.

“If you feel afraid, just shout it all out loud

And you will know that I am right by your side

Holding you close with this trembling body of mine

To let you know that you are not alone

It’s alright if we can’t smile like before

For one day we will reach that place for you and me, that place… for you… and me.”

“…you should sing more often,” Byleth mumbled into her lover’s chest. She nuzzled into Edelgard and added, “But I think you should sing something happier.”

“Happier? You must be feeling better if you’re able to suggest something to me.”

“…”

Edelgard had to stifle her chuckle when the older woman reburied her face into her bosoms.

Oh, how the role has been reversed. She remembered the nightmares that had plagued her when she was a student. Numerous visions and hallucinations of her deceased siblings and classmates came to visit her from their grave. Their cold hands pulled her into the darkest abyss. She eventually finds herself strapped onto the wooden chair, the scalpels and needles jabbed into her exposed flesh from multiple non-consensual surgeries. Flaming aches throbbed from her hidden scars. They were unbearable to sleep through. It was always a surprise to Edelgard whenever she was able to function like a fully conscious person during her time as a student and as an emperor. Perhaps it was due to Byleth’s presence.

Byleth had always showered her with more love than she had expected. She would always sneak away from her own dormitory to sleep with her girlfriend. This was not merely an act of romanticism. This was an act to retain Edelgard’s sanity. This was furthered emphasized when Byleth went missing for five years. Nightmares that were shooed away had returned to haunt her. Lysithea and Caspar were unable to kick them to the curb despite their best efforts. Not even Hubert was able to quell those internal demons. She needed Byleth so badly. Byleth is her anchor. Without an anchor, the ship would float mindlessly from its path.

The emperor kissed the top of her head again. Now it was her turn to care for Byleth.

“Can you tell me… how long you’ve been having these breakdowns?”

“…”

“Are you scared of telling me?”

A hesitant nod. Then, Byleth rose until their face was on an equal level. The moonlight shone over their features, and the professor’s were mixed with fear and shame. Edelgard instantly brought her hand up to cup one side of her face. Her thumb rubbed among the cheekbone as she said,

“Don’t be afraid. Whatever you tell me, I won’t judge you.”

“…promise?”

“I promise.”

She deeply breathed.

“I’ve had them since the war ended. It first started when I was in the infirmary, recovering from my wounds.” Byleth’s lips firmed into a thin line. “I… I remember the way they looked at me.”

“They?”

“Lady Rhea… Flayn… and Seteth.”

Those names… How long has it been since Edelgard last heard of them? Though Flayn and Seteth had escaped from the war, Rhea was long gone. Still, those three played an important part in Byleth’s life. She knew that for sure. Their importance wasn’t subtle anymore the moment Byleth had merged with Sothis in order to combat their adversities. All three of those individuals began to bow down to the professor as if she were a holy being. Their words were articulated with precision in hopes of proving their devotion to her. It was as if Byleth Eisner was the goddess; her humanity long gone after the fusion. Edelgard always found it baffling. Byleth is Byleth. There is nothing different about her, save it for her insane strength growth. Just what made them so keen with her girlfriend?

“They used me.”

Indeed, they did. That was for certain. Sweet nectar stained their statement the moment Jeralt and Byleth stepped foot into Garreg Mach. Soldiers from the monastery were oblivious and blind to the manipulative threads that dangled overhead. Everyone was dancing to the beat of the Church and Those Who Slither in the Dark. The worst one of them all had to be Byleth, an outsider with little knowledge of politics, who was forced to join the mass. Not even Jeralt could save his daughter from their hands.

“I’ve killed so many innocent lives…”

But that was not her fault. She was simply following orders from Rhea during their time at the monastery. The same fault could lie upon her students too. They were the ones who delivered the final blow to every mortal foe that stand against the Church of Seiros. Villagers from various parts of Fodlan begged for forgiveness as Byleth slaughtered every one of them. Their crimes? Abstaining in the religious teachings of the Goddess Seiros. Regret gnawed at the ex-mercenary each time she received praised from Rhea and Seteth.

“Lady Rhea told me I’m her Mother…!” Byleth curled her fingers inward, unintentionally digging her nails into Edelgard’s back. The young lord bit back a yelp as her wife blubbered, “Can you believe that? I’m her Mother! She told me it was destiny— It was my fate that she be my daughter!”

She began to shed another round of tears and bit the bottom of her lip. Memories began to seep into her mind once more as she confessed her terrors. A child of a mother born of the progenitor god’s Crest Stone and a father who carried Rhea’s blood… She was literally related to Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn. She tried to reject the notion. She objected against Rhea of the ridiculous blood connection they had. She fought against the idea that Rhea is her daughter.

Obsession was something Rhea had to cope with her mourning. The lingering desire for a love Rhea desperately seeks for after the death of her mother extended out towards Byleth. Wet sensation overwhelmed her body, the revolting shudders that pulsed throughout her figure, the fingers that dared made her sing broken melodies unfit for the apparent goddess squeezed nausea into Byleth. It was all in the name of forcing the projected image and mentality into her. It was all there to say that Byleth was hers.

“She did so many things to me, I—I don’t know anymore!”

Disgusting.

“She told me I was hers! I was hers alone!”

Absolutely revolting.

“Byleth—”

“El,” Byleth sharply inhaled and eased her bruising hold. The abrupt pacification was alarming. Though her tears were now long gone, her intonation was grave. “I don’t want to be used by her. I’m not her Mother… and I don’t want to be used by anybody anymore… I’m scared of losing myself.”

“Rhea is long gone.” Edelgard kissed her weeping wife’s forehead. “No one will use you ever again. If anyone does, I’ll cut them out before they can do anything to you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

From Edelgard’s perspective, it was heartbreaking to hear all of this from her professor. She had known about it. She didn’t know the extent of the details, but she knew these experiences were bad. What she did not gauge was how BAD Byleth had it during her time at the monastery. The façade was well-kempt and hid her inner turmoil well. Whenever the topic was brought up, Byleth would brush it aside with an “another time” excuse. When they did have the scarce time to become lethargic, Edelgard would always forget or hold back on the matter, the fear of ruining the positive energy that surrounds their dates.

It was her fault for having it reach to this level. Everyone has the possibility of hiding something behind their smiles. It just so happens that Byleth was one of them. If only she had noticed it earlier… If only she had suspected it sooner… All these times they spent together, Byleth was afraid to succumb to the lowest point of her emotional health before her wife. Edelgard may have recovered and rightfully moved on from her past after a year from the war… but that was not the same for Byleth. Edelgard lowered her hands to her sides.

“I’m sorry it got so bad for you, my teacher… I won’t ever let it happen again.”

“…it’s not your fault.”

“But it is.”

The blanket began to move in place as the Adrestian Empire’s emperor shifted her position. She eventually sat upright and straddled the older female; both of her hands pressed upon Byleth’s abdomen. From all the times they’ve spent together, Byleth knew where this was going. This kicked up the temperature within her head and caused her heart to beat faster— and for a different reason too.

“Please, let me make it up to you.”

“You… don’t have to.”

“I do. The fact that the archbishop dares call you hers infuriates— doesn’t sit right with me. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. Besides…” she cupped her chin and hummed. “I heard that sex is a good way to increase one’s mood.”

“?!”

So, it really was going down that route. It had been some time since they’ve last conducted this passionate activity. After all, they were both important individuals leading the united Fodlan and the Adrestian Empire. One acts as a war hero, and one acts as an emperor. Both always ran about their businesses. Various occasions forced them apart from each other. Whenever they had time to spend, they were either too tired or weren’t in the mood. They might as well diagnose themselves with TBD, also known as the “Too Busy Disorder”!

Edelgard blinked a couple of times when Byleth appears thunderstruck.

“…why are you giving me that bizarre look?”

“I’m confused. Who told you that?”

“Dorothea.”

“…”

“Byleth?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…I’m going to kill Dorothea when she returns from Brigid.”

“Please don’t.”

Imaginary fumes puffed out of the noble’s head as beads of sweat flew out of the professor. It was followed up with chuckles and giggles from the pair. The heavy atmosphere that hung over their shoulders began to lighten up. That was the first step towards recovery. Postures still the same, Byleth reached up to pat her wife’s arm. Red discoloration continued to thrive on her cheeks as she murmured,

“I’m yours.”

It may have been soft, but low and urgent. Edelgard felt her core tightened from the intonation. She leaned down and kissed her spouse’s lips. It was brief and simple; an act of consensual agreement for the upcoming event.

“Very well. I’ll make sure to chase your fears away.”

The white-haired fumbled to strip Byleth’s dark shirt. It was a slow and excruciating process as the tactician would lift her upper body every now and then to rid of the attire. Shirt tossed to the side, Byleth urged Edelgard to do the same.

“It would be unfair if it’s just me.”

“Are you sure you aren’t saying that just to see me naked?”

“There’s… that too.”

How bold of Byleth! Then again, wasn’t she always this bold? She had always teased her students of silly remarks. When it came to Edelgard, those teasing were more in line of flirting and outright full of suggestive innuendos.

No— it might have been more so with her underlying desire to indulge in her beautiful wife’s figure. Scars and sutures did not matter to Byleth. She loved Edelgard no matter what she looks like; her love for the lord transcends beyond physical affections and wants. Edelgard heeded to her words and took off her tanktop. It was thrown to the floor without a second thought.

Now, the two bore themselves half-naked to each other. As they were wearing their sleeping attires, there was one less hassle with regards to their bras.

“Breathtaking…” Edelgard commented, her hands sliding up to Byleth’s peaks. “I will never understand how I can make mine as big as yours.”

“Don’t say that. Yours has a charm of its own.”

“Maybe if I drink more milk…”

“El.”

Byleth pulled the young woman down with a single tug on her arms. Their lips crashed together. The way they kissed contrasted greatly from their previous one. Their tongues danced with one another as Byleth held the back of Edelgard’s head. Edelgard whimpered into her mouth the instant Byleth began to sweetly suck on her tongue.

“Mmm…”

In retaliation, when they parted for oxygen, Edelgard leaned forward to litter suckles and kisses onto the woman’s neck. She pushed her hips into Byleth, their neither region softly pulsating from the friction. A quiet groan slipped out of her wife’s mouth. That tickled Edelgard’s raw instincts as she retracted from the abdomen. Then, she pressed against it again. Not too gentle to be considered an annoyance, but not too harsh to elicit a full-blown euphoric trip. Just enough to justify the occasional moans from the older woman. The back and forth motion continued as Edelgard tenderly sucked and nibbled on Byleth’s smooth neck.

“Hah— Y-You’re… good at this as always— Hah…”

She closed her eyes and basked herself in the feeling of Edelgard’s hot mouth. To gain further access, Edelgard pressed her thumbs unto Byleth’s jaw, lifting it up so she could continue to explore the new premise. Byleth shivered from her profound action. The grinding against their private regions wasn’t helping either. She would softly gasp whenever pressure was applied to the soft nub. That turned on Edelgard and encouraged the continuation of her ministrations.

“I’ve learned it— Nngh… from the best teacher.”

“And w-who… who would that be?”

She concluded the hickey spree with one last smooch and raised her head. Sweat began to formulate on their forehead from the ensuing assault as Edelgard smiled. Though she did not offer an answer in return, the teasing question had a predictable response. They knew all too well who it was. In lieu of the lack of verbiage, Edelgard slowed her hips. Byleth had to resist the whine that nearly slipped from her throat.

The white-haired could tell she was frustrated. This was mildly amusing for the noble. How the mighty hero of Fodlan yearns for touches to satisfy her sexual hunger! And Edelgard would be the only person to ever deliver the salivating content to her front door. They exchanged another fleeting kiss, though more so to ease the impatient teacher.

“You’re so cute.”

Their roles were completely reversed in this case. Normally, those were the words whispered into the alumni’s ears while the professor’s fingers were buried deep into Edelgard’s flower. They would thrust in and out of the moist region. Heartful cries were proclaimed to the whole world as the bed creaked and rocked. Tonight, it was different; it was Edegard’s turn to make her wife tremble under her magical spells.

Edelgard proceeded to straighten her back and conduct adjustments to her straddling. Both her hands were kept busy by roaming Byleth’s bare figure. Pleasure zipped like electrical currents through the teal-haired thanks to the sensitive touches of her wife’s fingertips. They brushed, smoothed, and tapped on the elongated scars. Compared to Edelgard, they were not as numerous. Yet they were more haphazard and susceptible to touch.

She traced Byleth’s side.

This blotched scar came from a bandit’s brass knuckles. It derived from protecting Bernadetta. His vicious fist dug so hard into the ex-mercenary’s side, it managed to shatter a small portion of her ribcage. Crimson substances leaked from the corner of her mouth as Dedue and Felix avenged their fallen instructor. A miracle must have been in place to survive the aftermath. Had it not been for Linhardt’s and Marianne’s healing specialties, she would have been long gone.

She traced Byleth’s stomach.

This horizontal scar came from Dimitri. His dagger jammed into the teacher’s already-bruised tissue, breaking through the epidermis and slamming the hilt against it. Tears streamed down his face as he tore through her muscles. Blood splattered among the dirt road with a single flick of his wrist. Hubert and Ferdinand had tag-teamed to exterminate the dangerous noble. This time, Lysithea and Mercedes used plenty of white magic to keep their professor from walking over to the afterlife.

She traced Byleth’s chest.

This burnt scar came from Rhea. It was during the first revolt against the Church of Seiros at Garreg Mach. The archbishop conducted electricity through her open palm. Its incredible voltage charge nearly destroyed the Crest of Flames that kept the tactician conscious after stillbirth. Edelgard and Sylvain went in a frenzied state when the archbishop knocked Byleth into the abyss with another strike of her potent spell. Sothis was likely the one who assisted in the healing process during the five-year coma Byleth succumbed to. Without the female, Byleth would have never woken up from the rubble.

Each of these scars told terrifying tales. Close encounters with deaths were all too common for the students and teachers at the monastery, and their odds increased drastically after the war’s initiation. Edelgard’s scars mostly consist of her surgical implantations, but none ever met drastic battle scars like Byleth; the most she ever had were nicks and small lacerations from arrows and lances. (The army would never let harm fall upon their emperor!) She shook her head and settled her hands onto Byleth’s breasts.

Edelgard’s thumbs glossed over the brown nub, her fingers started to work on the mounds. A gentle squeeze emitted a burst of air from Byleth. She gazed downward and saw the woman furiously blushing from the said-action. The professor raised an arm up to conceal her lower facial features, her navy hues silently staring at her wife. Another squeeze caused a muffle this time. Then, she massaged the pair at a consistent pace. Every now and then, she would pinch the nipples between her thumb and index finger. A pinch would elicit a stronger reaction from the 26-year-old.

“Nngh— Y-You’re getting rough— Hah!”

“You think that’s rough?”

That remark was eventually joined by the returning gyrate of Edelgard’s hips. Byleth’s arm retracted as an uncontrollable moan erupted. A combination of the two activities were driving her insane!

“Hah..! Can you— Can you let me— Haah! Let me take off my pant! P-Please!”

Edelgard nearly laughed. Now her professor was begging for more? This never gets old. She adheres to her request and removed her hands. Another pause took place as they transitioned to the next phase. The blanket over her shoulders threatened to slip off as she yanked on their casual pants. After pulling it off, she tossed it carelessly aside like the other attires. Now it was time to move onto the main course. Edelgard’s predatory eyes darkened. She can’t wait to get her mouth all over Byleth and drive her to the edge of the cliff.

Previous sessions normally had Byleth lead the intercourse. This time, Edelgard took control. It had been so long since she acted as a ruler in their sex life. Another kiss was in a tall order for her lover. Hot bated breaths puffed at their faces upon departure. Edelgard flushed her body with Byleth, the blanket shifted to move alongside with the royal, and planted kisses over every inch of her wife’s alluring body.

“Hah…”

She licked the brown nub.

“Hah—!”

She swirled her tongue around the nub.

“Ha—AAH!”

She bit the nub.

“NNGH—AH!”

She used her teeth to rub the nub.

Byleth’s outcries were escalating in volume. It would be to no one’s surprise if they would earn a few dubious and flustered expression from fellow allies and soldiers. (The worst one of them all would be Hubert. He would hunt after Byleth and skewer her if he could!) But she didn’t care, and she’s certain her wife didn’t care either. Her licks, bites, and roaming hands continued almost as if she were making up the days they hadn’t showered in love. She would occasionally kiss as if to replace the traumatic events with their blissful memories. All in the name of making Byleth forget about those individuals… even if it is a temporary solution.

Edelgard lifted her mouth from Byleth’s breast.

“I’m going to move down,” she said. “Can I?”

“Why are you asking me that?” came a hoarse whisper. “You already know the answer.”

“Just making sure, my teacher. Can’t forget about consent, can we?”

The teal-haired would have playfully knocked on the female’s shoulder had they not been in the middle of having sex. Edelgard was always the careful one in the relationship.

“A-Ah…”

It felt good. Way too good. Byleth’s consciousness was starting to float into Cloud Nine as Edelgard made her way slowly down the writhing body. Pauses were made to plant fluttering kisses and strokes on the curves of Byleth’s belly, her hipbones, and silken skin on the inside of her thighs. Whatever negativity that strangled the professor had dissipated completely. Her body was engulfed in a fiery need of quenching as her walls were slick with arousal. Now all she could focus on was the pleasure.

“AH?!”

She unconsciously pressed her hips into Edelgard’s first stroke of her tongue. Byleth knew Edelgard was eventually going to descend to her neither region, but it had been so long since she had someone relieve her of the pent-up tension through oral means.

“Nngh—!”

God, it felt so GOOD. The strokes from her tongue were slow and steady, yet it managed to drag out the best sensation. Up and down her tongue went, Edelgard tasted as much as she could from the blossoming pink region. Byleth groaned and shuddered when her spouse tried to keep her thighs apart.

“A-AH! E-El—!!”

Byleth bucked from the powerful sensation. Her clitoris— Her clitoris! Edelgard became drunk from its scent as her mouth worked wonders upon the sensitive head and greedy lips. Had it not been for Edelgard’s strong arms keeping her hips down, she would have tossed the other female out of the mattress by accident! A faint grunt came from the busy white-haired. Enough blood had pooled into Byleth’s abdomen to cause a feminine erection of the pink nub.

“I’m not holding back.”

“Hnngh?!”

An index finger greeted the entranceway in the midst of her lavishing. First, its fingertip lightly brushed upon its surface. Vertical strokes croaked immodest sounds from the older woman. Eventually, the lord dug not one, but two fingers into the wet region.

“D-Deep!”

That was the remark after Edelgard wiggled the two body parts into her body. It was a foreign sensation for Byleth since someone other than herself is feeling the inner walls. They naturally clenched around the slender fingers. Its squeeze and release intervals were synched with her core’s reactions. Byleth’s hands immediately flung to the bedsheets. She trembled when Edelgard curled her fingers.

“AH! That— Hnngh!”

Words were discombobulated; sentence structures fractured. The state of her verbal speech was similar to the state of her mind. They were clearly in another plane of existence. Byleth lifted her head as her hips moved on its own.

SLICK, SLICK, SLICK

The sound effects were not helping. In this dead night, the steamy room amplified the wet motion coming from Edelgard’s fingers. Paired with their fast, hot breaths, bliss clouded their mentality and overwhelmed their hearing.

“S—So good— Haaaah!”

Byleth wasn’t the only one to be pleasured. Edelgard felt herself become wet; wanton desires starting to override her sense of self. Unlike Byleth, she had close to zero self-restraint when it came to achieving the climactic finale.

Thank goodness multi-tasking was her forte. A quick prayer to a godless entity sprung forth as she removed her remaining hand on Byleth’s thigh. It went down to her dripping nether region. She grimaced in Byleth’s hypersensitive labia, her fingers making quick work of her own clitoris. If there’s something she wanted to do, it was to be shoved off the edge alongside with her teacher.

“Nngh...!”

“E-El!”

A glance at her spouse drastically sky-rocketed the pleasure by tenfold. Byleth squeezed her eyes shut and found it impossible to remove the burnt image of Edelgard masturbating during their hot intercourse.

“I— Something… it’s coming— AH!”

The way the teal-haired’s face twisted… her looks were becoming desperate as Edelgard relentless tortured her with the thrust of her fingers and flick of her tongue on the clit. She was occupied with three matters at once, but Edelgard had always kept her lilac hues pointed at her significant other. There was so much to take in. She had to record them and burn them to memory. The amount of beauty that glistened from her wife… A dictionary would not be able to fully convey the radiant perfection of a being that is called “Byleth.”

Another groan burst from Edelgard, her fingers rushing to the finish line. The intensity was burning into her core and gathered enough aroused energy to strongly throb her rubbed nub.

“El… EL!”

“Byleth—!”

She was close, and so was Byleth. In an effort, to reach the mountain’s peak, Edelgard pulled back her fingers. They were pulled enough just enough to leave the remaining tips inside of the pulsating walls. A few rough rubs on the outer flesh were made. Then, she slammed it right back inside, curving at the most sensitive and erogenous area of the vagina: the G-spot. This was immediately followed up with her lips closing around the clitoris and sucking hard on it.

“A-AH—!!!”

“!!!”

Byleth’s muscles began to jerk, her figure stiffened, and her knuckles white as a huge explosion implored upon her body. As for Edelgard, she felt her body quiver from a sudden flow of euphoria throughout her figure. She retracted from her own area. Yet it wasn’t over for her teacher. She made sure to drag out Byleth’s climatic experience for as long as humanly possible, her tongue taking in the fluids, licking the moist premise, and swiftly rocking her curved fingers in and out.

“W—Why is it—! No— It’s coming again— NNNNGH!”

Right when she came down from her high, her professor bounced right back up to another orgasm. Though it was not as powerful as the first one, it still sent her spiraling upward to the clouds once more, pleasure rippling through her body until it faded into nothingness.

Their figures finally plopped back down on the mattress. A whimper came from Byleth’s direction once Edelgard removed her soaked fingers. All forms of heat excluding her spouse’s body evaporated instantly; the drug they undertook began to wear off. Now, they were basked with pleasant aftermath. Eyelids half-closed and head fuzzy, Byleth arms were extended outward on the bed to stare at the noble.

Edelgard crawled up as the blanket (with great wonder) continued to cling onto her shoulders. Upper body raised in a cobra position, not long afterward, she inserted the wet fingers into her mouth. Byleth’s eyes widened at the sight.

“T-That’s dirty!”

“Not if it’s from you,” she smirked. “You’re always a dessert I never tire from.”

“…”

Geez, when did Edelgard learn how to talk like that? Did she learn it from Dorothea…? No, it had to be Sylvain, right? No… that can’t be it… Just who and/or where did she learn that from? (Silly Byleth, it was from you!) The professor’s features became bright red, an embarrassed chuckle heard.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, my dear teacher.” She leaned down to tenderly kiss Byleth. Strands of her white locks fell upon Byleth’s rising chest as she proclaimed, “I will always be yours, and I won’t let anyone ever take that away.”

“El…”

That’s right… Though her PTSD is not easy to overcome, she must remember that she has Edelgard von Hresvelg. The woman whom she first protected, the woman whom she first taught, the woman whom she opened up to, the woman who became her wife. Past trauma may be ebbed into her history book, but the future can be built on top of them.

Their fingers intertwined. Then, Byleth closed her eyes and beamed.

“I will always be yours too.”

[rebornghostgirl]

Character Sheet!

Basics FULL NAME. Athena Tesla Scott

PRONUNCIATION. Uh-the-na

NICKNAME. Nutjob, thena, crazy science girl

GENDER. Cis female HEIGHT. 5'5

AGE. 14 when she died, but has grown to 19... Her body accommodates from a 14 year to a 19 year old body as well as mentality. Making the character appropriately 18+.

ZODIAC. Aries SPOKEN LANGUAGES. English, High school German, Bits and bytes, Gaelic.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 ! HAIR COLOR. White EYE COLOR. Both are silver eyes... Dark brown in life

SKIN TONE. In ghostly form she's a very darkish blue. If she tries to seem more lifelike she's a chocolate skinned black girl. BODY TYPE. Very thin and pettite, she forgets to eat and is in her lab reading to really have some weight.

ACCENT. Oof, she has a british/Scottish accent that mixes in with a southern one. VOICE. An alto. Often sounding bubbly and cute. Shaky at times, but when she yells she sounds more stern.

DOMINANT HAND. Ambidextrous at birth. POSTURE. Hunched over something always. A book, computer, invention, most of the time you'll always see her back till she turns to you and pops it. Other than that she stands up in a relaxed posture.

SCARS. She has scars on her hands and fingers from hurting herself with her science experiments. Her thighs have slashes from a related experiment. She has a stabbing mark in her back from the betrayal of someone she thought was her friend. She has scars that look like lightning covering her body starting from her left arm and coarsed it's way to her left shoulder and torso. All scars are covered by her attire minus the hands.

She doesn't like to talk about them.

TATTOOS. None BIRTHMARKS. None MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Her white short hair as well as her eyes are one. She also sparks from her body when she emotes and it changes color for each mood. She can have multiple colors for mixed feelings. Red for angry, orange for hunger, yellow for happiness, green for sick, blue for sadness, indigo for tiredness, purple for thinking, white for excited, black for fear, pink for lovesick. When she's neutral she emits gray and teal sparks.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 ! PLACE OF BIRTH. In the basement of a university science lab. HOMETOWN. London

BIRTH WEIGHT. 6pounds, 8 ounces BIRTH HEIGHT. 16 inches

MANNER OF BIRTH. Natural, mother had help from medical students.

FIRST WORDS. Safety glasses on...

SIBLINGS. Aries and her dog pallas which she considers a sister. Adoptive brother Timmy whom she adores.

PARENTS. Dr. Zeus Washington Carver and Dr. Metis Curie (Yes my greek mythology fans or/and science history buffs you are sensing a pattern with the names here)

Adoptive parents are Sen. George and Madame Maddie Scott

Beauregard Ghast: the Ghost Host

PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. Dr. Zeus is a power hungry mad biochem scientist hell bent on world domination. He believes that since the world is burning up that he shall be its savior; unfortunately thaat plan involves killing millions of innocent people.

Dr. Metis was a fresh biochem graduate and fell in love with him before she knew of his evil tendencies. She got pregnant and had twins: Athena and Ares. Zeus was angry and lashed out at her at the news imploring she gets rid of them, but Metis wanted them and when they where born Zeus forged her signature to give up the babies and she dissapeared without a trace. Its unknown where is she today.

Ares grew up in a abusive orphanage while Athena was adopted into a life of luxury. But it didn't made her happy. Her adoptive father and mother was neglectful to her and her little bro, Timmy. George really just wanted the people of colors' votes.

In death Athena found the haunted mansion after seeing a Disney ad. Where she found Beau and he has became her adoptive father who loves and respects her. She loves him dearly.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 ! OCCUPATION. College student, bio major...

CURRENT RESIDENCE. Gracey Manor, aka The Haunted Mansion. She uses her portal gun to attend Monster's university. (She goes there because she can *blows raspberry*)

CLOSE FRIENDS. Ares (recently they used to be enemies), Pallas, Drossy (kind of, she has a feeling she doesn't like her), Caitlin: the butler of the mansion(low key calls them mom),

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single

FINANCIAL STATUS. I could write she's a ghost she don't need money but nah... Right now she has 3 dollars and is in thousands of dollars in debt. Thanks college!

DRIVER’S LICENSE. Apparently she does have a licence for every vehicle you can think of. But she drives wild and has a lead foot.

CRIMINAL RECORD. None, but her science antics has caught the attention of the FBI numerous times, unbeknownst to anyone. I mean the girl went to space numerous times. Secretly, she steals alcohol from the cellar...

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ! SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Pan ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. Pan

EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch

LIBIDO. High. Really high. I mean... To the moon high...

TURN ONS. Sensitivity, hugs, impressing her with extensive knowledge. Telling her that she's yours and yours alone, Role playing that she's your slave with safety words. (Trying to keep it kinda pg), Any roleplaying with safety words, exploding stuff in a lab. Finding a new piece of scientific knowledge. Mutual pleasure

TURN OFFS. Lies, breaking a promise, not making sure she's all right with anything, the partner isn't having any fun, hurting her sensitive areas. Mentioning her scars.

LOVE LANGUAGE. Introverted and shy, she's not an easy one to get close to. She has walls and barriers around herself, but once she trusts you and has fallen in love. She loves you to death and will protect you fiercely. She makes sure you're all right before herself, even if its not good for her. She's very cuddly and will hug, kiss, and cuddle you as much as you want. She does want your attention though and will squeeze her way near you to get it. She's a little yandere-ish but not psycho and will give you some space. But its the obsessive clingy behavior that makes her in the catagory. Tootie from the fairly odd parents is the best example.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. She's a little yandere-ish to everyone she loves so she always wants to spend time with them and will over protect them. This is due to her neglectful parents emotionally abusing Timmy and especially, the death of Pallas. But she can be reasoned with and she will try to control her anxiety. She apologizes constantly and doesnt want to harm anyone so she makes sure everyone is alright. Other times She's a little distant but only cause she thinks you need space.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 ! CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. 'Lucky Orb ft. Hatsune Miku' or 'Contact by Daft Punk' couldn't pick

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. In the lab doing science s***, or in her room doing homework. Or She's all over the mansion exploring, taking samples, trying to figure out that interdimentional staircase, in the pool. Gazing at the organist from afar. Playing with Pallas. Riding her motorcycle. Binge eating food, scowling Ebay for Hatsune Miku figures and stuff. And then passing out, sleeping for hours after doing all of that for 2 days straight.

MENTAL ILLNESSES. Depression and anxiety.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. None

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: Left brained. But does lean a little to the right.

PHOBIAS. Insectiphobia and Arachniphobia... Just all bugs... Fears that her loved ones will get hurt by her hands or by something else she could've protected them from. Fears that She's useless and crazy.

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. Off and on. Some cases she knows something is going to work and is proud. Other cases she thinks she's going to fail and that she'll get yelled at again. She's working on it though. Learning how to fail, why its ok to make mistakes, that betrayal isn't the end of the world. That yes bad things happen but good things will too.

VULNERABILITIES. Physically: Her sparks can give her location even when invisble. She hasn't figured out how to control them yet. They can also catch something else on fire and electrocute somebody else. If its bad you can smell her burning.

Weak knees... Go for her legs.

Emotionally: Go for the guilt trip. She can easily be made to think something is her fault. She can also be manipulated into thinking 'rationally' and may end up doing a henious act when she thought she was doing good. Easily pressured to do anything you want especially if it will 'help' people.

TAGGED BY: @asktheghosthost

I tag @unto-myself-together @aliypop @r0bofactory @inkandfeatherdusters @catinabag @ask-the-hatbox-ghost

And anyone who wants to to it.

[wlwtsubomi]

Well, uh, I have to admit I somehow never even saw your OSAS stuff until you mentioned it and I looked through the tag?? And I can’t really get what it’s about from just the art but it looks rad and I’m always down for original works (I feel you on drawing shit for your own stuff instead of actually progressing the story) so have at it! Tell me about OSAS, anything from what the world’s like to what the characters like to eat!

akgajdagh honestly thats valid!! osas tends to fly under a lot of peoples radars 😔✊

and also algjakdg thank y ou!!! ive been trying to work on osas for a long while so im rly touched that u think its cool and also that im still Relatable™ ;;w;; i can,, talk a lot,,,, abt osas,,,,,,,, im answering the two questions u gave (what the worlds like and what characters like to eat) and just gonna sneak it under a cut

yeehaw!! 

ok so the world?? ive mentioned it several times but the worlds called uxordra!!! if u go back and find stuff u MAY find that like. i have called it uxodra or uxorda and honestly?? im not sure which one was right so i mashed the two together called it uxordra and called it a day

its ruled by kingdoms bc its. kinda like every other fantasy world like that. note that i started working on osas when i was like. in 6th grade so u have to rly bare with me here bc all the ocs have those 6th grade oc Tragic Backstories or are ocs from a fandom that ive reworked to put them in here. and also if u look closely u would be able to pick out the inspo for some parts of osas.

ALGJAD but yeah its separated into kingdoms!! surprisingly, there isnt a lot of conflict between the kingdoms in the story. surprisingly bc like. thats the plot for several fantasy stories huh. but thats mainly bc 6th grade me didnt even think abt making a fuckin map of uxordra. like ok i get it. but why. 6th grade me i couldve evolved the story so much if only i had a map but instead i didnt and now the story that i came up w rly only mentions only a few different kingdoms and im too invested w it so im too lazy to change it and figure out how to change it. and also they have like. no names

and for that im serious i mean. the kingdom that osas is mainly set in? thats like. the only one named so far. its called valkarie and yes its like valkyrie but just iwth an a instead of a y. see its bc one day 7th grade me realized that i needed a name and came up with one on the spot. but ive been thinking of it and refering to it as valkarie so much that now thats what its called. its a big oof. its arguably one of the biggest kingdoms next to this other one that i dont have a name for??

five out of the main group was born in valkarie!! while iovita ( hes the one w curly hair thats mainly sketched in green) was born in that other big kingdom!! that other kingdom (which is REALLY need a name for considering its the origin place of one of the MAIN CHARACTERS) is like. ok so valkarie is rly just. powerful as a kingdom. but that other kingdom?? theyre just funky! theyre a big trading hub and outsource of crops and everyone thinks theyre cool.

valkarie is. kinda mess. as ive mentioned before yeah no one rly likes them but?? theyre powerful?? they have a big military and iovita comes over here and immediately hisses thru his teeth bc man this is. hm. this seems Excessive. but in their semi defense there was already a good amount of guards and knights and shit but then this whole entire thing happened in ruresi and now all them from there moved to the capitol and its just agakdagjajd Too Many Guards! but yeah like. they also are kinda hggjghjdjg-ing bc there was this whole entire thing called the idarist war which will eventually be elaborated in osas once i actually WORK ON IT!!!!!!!!!! and like it rly just depleted a lot of resources and threw people out of wack

oh my god and i like. just realized i forgot to put this here. but like. theres also gods!!! whenever theres a character in the osas tag that doesnt look human?? tahts a god!!! they just kinda exist and give people things and sometimes start droughts like a fuckin idiot!!!!!!!!! aglajdajg ill probably explain them more in osas. again if i actually WORK ON IT!!!!!!

but yeah. the kingdoms are rather peaceful when it comes to each other. the real conflict most of the time is within the kingdoms themselves?? and at the start of osas its not even that full of conflict. the real peak of hardship was like 80 years ago during the idarist war but most (i say most bc. ruresi.) of valkarie has recovered or at least. recovered as much as they could.

and uhhh what the characters like to eat??

bodil (the ginger one with the teal-ish coat!!) likes salty things!! admittedly its bc her diet kinda. Sucks??? she lives off of preserved things and things merope serves (which is all bar food so. lots of salt.) she also likes milk. she is a simple lesbian she sees milk she drinks

merope (the one w an eyepatch and vitiligo and also sharp chompers………..) really likes stew!!! his aunt used to make it a lot when he was younger and its been his favorite food since!! he makes so many salty things that at this point hes kinda exhausted

aludra (the one with those red marks and blank eyes?? shes mostly drawn in red) cant eat anymore. shes a ghost. BUT anyways she also likes stew. but she also loves dry food that is rly easy to snack on (like crackers or smn!!) bc she kinda used to like just sit in her room and Brood.

iovita (yeah ive mentioned him already. hes the one in green) likes pies!! he likes fruits and as such was like “holy shit you can bake SO MANY fruits into pies. he really likes everything really?? bc yeah his kingdom is known for their abundance of farmland which means lots of fruits and meat and vegetables and its just. wild. but he really doesnt like sour things. conan eats a lemon in front of him and iovita realizes that Their Gods Will Not Save Them.

alfjadka yeah conan (has the light hair w dark roots, that emo bang, and drawn in grey) likes sour things. or so he says. he really likes sweets actually. especially caramel. his mom used to sneak him candies and its a mixture of just that positive association and also just. sweets good. that just makes him really love candy.

sorin (has the bandage over eye and the burn scars. also a ginger. mostly drawn in a yellow-gold) does really?? have??? a favorite food???or a favorite thing to eat???? he takes what he gets and at the least he knows that bread at the least is semi-reliable. ruresi while it was still up wasnt especially known for their food and it really shows?? well at least, sorin says that but conan has noticed that sorin sometimes stares at cakes for a long time………..

(conan buys every cake he sees sorin staring at then always eat a bit before going “oh wow!! i cant finish this sorin u can have it”. sorin is always a bit skeptical abt actually getting it and every other bite asks if conan is Really Sure He Can Have All This. but he eat its every time.)

[feroluce]

Day 1: Haunted

For @shouritshou and their event, Ritshou Fall Week! 

Warnings for major injury (its just like a bg thing, though, its not described) 

“Ritsu blinks. A shadowy form appears in front of him. It's gone again before he can scream.“

Ritsu can't sleep.

This isn't too unusual. It's been his normal since...for a few years now. It's just that it's never been for three days in a row.

Something twitches in his peripheral vision, but disappears when he tries to look straight at it.

It's also been three days since Reigen Arataka very nearly lost his life during an exorcism gone wrong. He's still in Chili Powder Hospital, laid out on an ICU bed with his body full of tubes and more medicine than the pharmacy on the bottom floor. Ritsu had gone in to see him once on the first day, when Shige and Reigen had both been hospitalized. His brother had been released the same day, but his emotions have been...running high since then.

Ritsu jumps when he hears something crash from the room next door. It's probably Shige's bookshelf hitting the wall again. It's the fourth time today. His brother has stopped bothering to pick up the spilled books.

There's been one explosion per day, at least that Ritsu knows of. On day two, he had come home from school to find Momozou and Shige floating in the living room, glued to each other's sides as half the furniture whirled around them. Something had happened with Reigen while he was gone and caused Shige's emotions to run so wild that they trampled all over Momozou's mental barriers. He'd been left helpless against the onslaught until they were both drowning in Shige's feelings, to the point that they had shared in the explosion.

Shige's eyes had been too wide and white, his obsidian hair flying above his head too much like that one time...

They both had turned to look at him, both had murmured his name in the same ominous tone, synced together through their shared thoughts.

"Ritsu..."

Ritsu had nearly screamed and passed out right then and there.

(He kind of wishes he had. At least it would have been some kind of rest.)

The sound of glass shattering reaches his ears from Shige's room. He hopes it's just another light bulb and not the window. Shortly after, an oil slick of yellow and teal makes itself known, a tiny swirl in amongst the rainbow hues that have been tinting his home for the past three days.

Teruki has stubbornly stuck around to be with Shige throughout the whole ordeal, taking him back and forth to the hospital for visiting hours and cleaning up messes every time his aura lashes out. Ritsu is grateful for it when he's not steeping in pettiness. Because Teruki has never been afraid to navigate that minefield. He's never hesitated to get close or to touch. He's never been Haunted by visions of a figure fully wreathed in black, giving off unfathomable amounts of energy and instilling paralyzing dread...

Footsteps out in the hallway. Ritsu holds his breath as he pulls his covers tighter around himself.

The soft padding sounds recede and Ritsu let's himself breathe again.

A light flickers somewhere in his room. Or maybe it doesn’t. It's getting hard to tell what's happening and what he's imagining.

...He wants Shou.

He wants someone who has even an inkling of what he's feeling right now. At least Shou already knows what he's been through. He's the only one Ritsu has opened up to about the equal measures of love and fear and the blurring line between them.

When he checks his phone, it says...something fuzzy and illegible. Ritsu squints his eyes until the letters and numbers stop overlapping. Friday, ten at night. He just needs to make it a couple more days. On Monday, Shou will hopefully be back from whatever Claw-related misadventures he's been having for the last week. Just a little longer. Just a little longer.

Ritsu blinks. A shadowy form appears in front of him. It's gone again before he can scream.

Just a little longer.

It's somewhere between two minutes and two hours later that he Feels a familiar aura carefully approach his balcony. It's not Monday yet, is it? Is he losing track of time?

The glass slides open and a head of wild red hair peeks around the curtain. Ritsu feels his heart rate finally slow. Shou grins and waves before pulling the door shut behind him, tiredly crawling into his waiting boyfriend's lap.

"Ritsu, I missed you!" As soon as he's settled in, Shou starts nuzzling and touching everywhere that he can reach. He tends to act like they haven't seen each other in months, even when it's only been a few days.

"Is it Monday already?"

"I came back early, you're more important. Pops and Joseph can handle the rest without me. Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye, it-" Shou stops his rambling to stare. Ritsu's not sure what it is he sees, but he is sure that he looks like shit.

"Are you ok? You look like shit." Ah, there it is. "You told me about Reigen. How is Shigeo taking it?" Ritsu just shakes his head. He's pretty sure Shou can already guess what's been going on. "...When was the last time you slept?"

"...Not since it happened." Shou frowns up at him and for the first time, Ritsu notices the pink and red under his eyes. He hasn't been sleeping well, either.

"Shou...what was this branch like? Was it bad?"

"...Yeah. Child Awakenings. We didn't know until we were already there."

He doesn't say anything after that. Shou's eyes take on the same Haunted look that Ritsu's been seeing in the mirror lately.

He looks off to the side for a moment and feels his breath hitch. Something is flickering again.

"Hey. You're ok, there's nothing there." Shou's freckled hands come up and gently push until Ritsu is facing him again. He supposes if anyone would know about the effects of sleep deprivation, it would be Shou. He's had to be on the run for days at a time before. Ritsu has heard the stories.

The exhaustion is starting to weigh him down, but the fear and the paranoia refuse to let him sink. He sits and stares blankly until Shou finally decides to pick him up and physically throw him down onto the bed.

"C'mon, Ritsu, time for bed. You sleep. I'll take first watch." He doesn't even fight it or give any lip as Shou tucks him in in a way that's just motherly enough to be mocking. What on earth does he mean by first watch?

Ritsu gets his answer when Shou sits criss cross on the edge of the mattress, faced to watch the door. Calloused fingers play with his dark hair, combing through the fine strands. Ritsu closes his eyes by reflex when a palm sweeps over them, only to find his eyelids are too heavy to open again.

"I'll stay up, so you don't have to be paranoid. You know I would get you out of here if anything happened, right?" He does. He can't answer right now, but he does know. Shou is reliable and responsible where it counts.

Hours later, when he's jolted out of sleep by the mirror image of his brother that Haunts his dreams, Shou is still sitting in the same spot. He splutters just a little when Ritsu lays his head in his lap, but then goes back to petting his hair. His fingertips occasionally trace along the jagged pink scar peeking out of his bangs.

It's the first time Ritsu's ever been able to go back to sleep after a nightmare.

[existentialburden]

What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about? What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin? How tall is your OC?What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances?Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar?How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?What does your OC’s bedroom look like?

oooooh. gonna answer for anyone I feel like answering for!

Enny’s a nickname! her name is actually Enlightener, but Echo was like hm I’m going to call you Enny now bcause that’s a mouthful (and horrorterror Enny gets the nickname from [REDACTED] because Enslog’ph is a mouthful). and it stuck. [REDACTED]’s nickname for Enny is Firefly and I can only assume it’s because she’s small and she glows. West has a nickname and it’s East! for obvious reasons. uhhh Deux is called Captain or Cap’n because she’s the captain. and it’s her ultragod name. Hope gets called gingersnap because she’s ginger. no one has a decent nickname except Enny.

Enny has brown hair and brown eyes! Aila’s the same. West has light blue hair they dye themself and purple-blue eyes bcause fuck u one of these kids gets to have wild eyes. Hope has orange hair and light blue eyes. Deux is. uh. well. she’s. an angel? with LITERAL golden skin. it’s. she doesn’t look like a person at all and we’ll leave it at that. glowing eyes an all that. Luca has blonde hair and brown eyes. Enzo keeps dyeing his hair different colors but he also gets brown eyes. Theo and Fate are both blonde with green eyes. Fantra and Dukkel have black hair- Fantra’s eyes are starting to show some red and Dukkel’s are quickly going teal.

Enny is 5′1″ and so is Aila. Hope is aroooound 6′4″ or something?? I forget. Deux is. uh. taller than that. Luca is 5′3″ and Enzo is 5′6″. West is 5′2″. fuck everyone else’s heights except Fern is average height, Haze is Tall, Alex is tall, and June is short. Theo and Fate are both p small.

Enny has four arms and literally glows, plus she has some scars that I always forget about. Deux is a LITERAL ANGEL with six wings. Aila also glows but it’s fainter. Hope’s still growing into her proportions so she looks a lil wonky (and she has freckles). West’s hair is blue but besides that they usually have exaggerated facial expressions. Fern’s surprisingly buff for ur average gamer. Haze has Noticeable eyelashes. Alex has dimples when they smile. June’s smile is wider on the right side of xir face than on xir left. I guess it becomes pretty obvious that Theo’s mute even if you can’t See that. some of Fate’s teeth didn’t grow in straight. Luca also has dimples when he smiles! his grins are also p small compared to other people’s because he’s self-conscious about his teeth- there’s nothing abnormal, he just. ehhh. Enzo’s ears and neck go bright red when he’s embarrassed at all (and, again, wild hair colors).

Enny typically wears long-sleeved shirts and dark colors. her wardrobe got fucked with because of the extra arms but y’know you do what you can with what you have. pants vary but she favors long skirts. she doesn’t really have any special outfits :(. West wears pastels and bright colors! they like hoodies and sweatpants and “jeans” that aren’t denim. they’ll wear a button-up for anything fancy but they don’t really dress up. Hope loves turtlenecks and cozy sweaters and long pants. she likes skirts, too, but she’s always cold so depends on the temperature. she’s still trying to figure out how she feels about dresses (she thinks she likes them, probably), but they’re way more comfortable than dress shirts that never fit her proportions right (what are those sleeves? that’s not how her arms work!) so she’ll wear them for any sort of event. she still thinks she looks killer in a suit, too. and she’s right. Deux doesn’t uh. well. the angel form doesn’t have anything to hide and there’s no way anyone’s about to try tailoring anything for that so. fashion not allowed for Deux. she used to just wear her god tier outfit anyway. Aila wears bright-colored t-shirts and shorts and OCCASIONALLY a skirt. but they aren’t SUUUPER her thing y’know? she’ll dress up for stuff and wear a sundress or something but she isn’t gonna put up with anything uncomfortable. she always gets too warm smh. Luca typically goes in his binder and some neutral-tone pants. he’ll switch into a tank top. if he has to he’ll wear a suit though. he looks very good in one. Enzo wears wild t-shirts and shitty button-ups and adores bright colors. he wears pants and skirts in about equal measure and sooometimes throws on a coat just to have pockets. he can captchalogue stuff but STILL. he might wear an actual dress shirt or he might wear a dress. nobody knows least of all Enzo. depends on his mood. Fate wears absolutely wild colors and likes coats. she never stops wearing one pair of shades. she dreams of having one (1) nice skirt but as things are she doesn’t really have a Special outfit. Theo wears whatever- he’d like more good long-sleeve shirts but it’s cool. he also doesn’t have a Special outfit.

Enny: edgy. Aila: cheerful. Hope: comfy. Deux: terrifying?? West: cute! Luca: tame. Enzo: chaotic. Fate: ...interesting.

ultragod Enny has some scars! some around the bottom right side of her face and some in less noticeable places. Alex has some acne scars but they always cover them up :(.

Enny’s voice doesn’t vary much when she speaks and she keeps a flat tone most of the time. Theo’s just mute. don’t really have voice hcs for any of the others though.

Enny’s bedroom in her house doesn’t have a lot in it and it’s always very tidy. her bedroom on the ship is slowly being converted to a room that is Just A Bed. Bed Room. Bedroom. for now though there’s a desk and a dresser and a LOT of notebooks and papers but that’s about it. Aila’s bedroom is messy as all hell and there’s an organizational system but sometimes things don’t get organized and put away. most of the time. oh no. the walls are painted a red-orange. Hope’s room is mostly tidy but there’s some stuff just laying on the floor. she has one of those plushie nets you hang in the corner of a room and yeet stuff into. it’s great. she also has a collection of beanie babies in there. she has Care Bears wallpaper don’t @ me. Deux’s room is legally required to be neat but that just means there’s no loose papers lying around. everything’s technically put away but it’s not organized. it used to be an absolute MESS but then she became ship captain and ughhhhh. West’s bedroom is a little messy but the floor’s clear. only because it all gets piled up on any surface available. they totally have a corkboard and the walls are blue :). Luca’s room is uh. messy but manageable. there is a trash pile though. the walls are mint and he definitely has fairy lights that didn’t ever actually get put up. Enzo’s room is also messy but manageable but there’s the addition of a Corner O’ Stuff that’s just. there. any time he goes through it he finds One (1) cool thing and gets distracted for the rest of the day. the walls are bright fucking green. he definitely has a lava lamp.

[guhudude]

Tagged by: @omuii le geef

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

LAST:  1. Drink: coke 
2. Phone call: probably my mom 
3. Text message: to my girlfriend: ^_^
 4. Song you listened to: Free -6LACK 
5. Time you cried: uhhhhhhhhhh I think it was two weeks ago when I was frustrated with my family for not treating me like an adult

 HAVE YOU: 
6. Dated someone twice: nooo
 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: yes but I barely count it as a kiss lol. I was in 8th grade and gave my boyfriend a peck on the lips and the whole thing was so forced it was stupid 
8. Been cheated on: don't think so
 9. Lost someone special: yes 
10. Been depressed: heck yeck 
 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yeah I was at a party with some friends in college and it was a great party most of the people were LGBT and everybody was really chill but I just really wanted to get wrecked lol. I started with beer because I thought that was all they had but then I found out they had Smirnoff ice and I started drinking those, and I played a drinking game with shots of Long Island iced tea.... best party ever even though I did get sick twice 

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:
 12-14: I can't believe this is just a clever way to skip my favorite number in the questions but ok: ultramarine blue, lime green, umm. Plum purple? Not all at once lol 

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:
 15. Made new friends: yes
 16. Fallen out of love: yes (only romantically) 
17. Laughed until you cried: yes, usually because of The Squad, my Skype group 
18. Found out someone was talking about you: yupperooza. 
19. Met someone who changed you: hmmmm. I followed someone on tumblr does that count? 
20. Found out who your friends are: yes 
21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: my gf ;) 

GENERAL: 
22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: almost all of them, so around 200
 23. Do you have any pets: Sasha, a 6 year old border collie-husky mix who is black with blue eyes (she's a little brat who tries to trip everyone by tackling their feet), and Gretchen, a 11 year old German shepherd mix with a big belly (and a bigger heart) and a curly tail 
24. Do you want to change your name: yeah, my legal name is both too feminine and too biblical. Hopefully someday I'll get to change it legally to Peri. 
25. What did you do for your last Birthday: I honestly don't remember :') it was probably boring 
26. What time did you wake up: I woke up at 9 surprisingly well rested 
27. What were you doing at midnight last night: watching Jupiter Ascending which is one heck of a movie 
28. Name something you can’t wait for: going to visit my geef in New Jersey again
 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: I'm sitting next to her on the couch watching family feud right now 
30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: GIVE ME THE HECKENING MOTIVATION!!!!
 31. What are you listening right now: G-Mix: Russel on Spotify. I'm goin through all of their playlists. B) 
32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: there were a few different guys named Tom at the campgrounds we used to go to every summer. 
33. Something that is getting on your nerves: my LACK!! OF MOTIVATION!!!!! 
34. Most visited website: tumblr, YouTube, kimcartoon 

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 
35. Mole/s: a few on my arms
 36. Mark/s: fuckin perpetual acne and scars from it on my shoulders and back : ) a birthmark on my left side and supposedly one on the back of my neck but ofc I've never actually seen it -squints- a few freckles here and there 
37. Childhood dream: to be literally every fucking profession. I wanted to be a princess, a fire fighter, a veterinarian, a cop, a psychiatrist...
 38. Hair color: brown
 39. Long or short hair: short, I look like one of the Beatles lmao 
40. Do you have a crush on someone: does my gf count 👀 
41. What do you like about yourself: I'm a good friend and I got a nice body 😘
 42. Piercings: just 2, one traditional piercing in each ear. I really want a bar of some kind, at least one cartilage piercing. 
 43. Blood type: O+
 44. Nickname: saoirse, seersh, peri, peridot 
45. Relationship status: taken by my gf 46. Zodiac: sexy, sexy Sagittarius ;)
 47. Pronouns: they/them or... ya know what idc actually any pronouns lol
 48. Favorite TV Show: Steven Universe, Rick and Morty, Community 49. Tattoos: none YET 
50. Right or left hand: right-handed though I am slightly better with my left hand at frisbee for some reason 
51. Surgery: once I had a surgery on my tooth that never came down because the teeth on either side were too close together. 
52. Hair dyed in different color: never :c
 ... yet 53. Sport: I used to be in track/field for one year in middle school, I was horrible at it but I did the 200, high jump and long jump. When I say I was bad at it I mean I was Literally The Worst on the team by far. I like to watch hockey especially in the arena because it gets WILD in there. You get to hear all the crazy shit all the drunk fans are saying and watch people get into fights and yell at each other 54. was there a 54 before bc i lost it i guess? and i just copy-pasted the whole thing 
55. Vacation: a nice little cabin in the woods with hiking trails around it would be perfect 👌 I'd also like to go on a cross-country road trip someday 
56. Pair of trainers: these black ones with neon laces that I wear to work, my favorite ones right now that are black with stars that glow in the dark (I don't wear them to work so as not to wear them out), a pair of black converse and a pair of black and teal vans, both of which I've had for years MORE GENERAL:
 57. Eating: nothing right now 
58. Drinking: coke  
59. I’m about to: READ A FUCKING BOOK FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 2 YEARS 
61. Waiting for: me to get my shit together 
62. Want: a raise? No? Damn. motivation??? .... shit. 
63. Get married: someday, u know it -finger guns- 
64. Career: artist/illustrator if I HAD THAT FUCKING MOTIVATION 👏👏👏 i have been wondering how I would do as a plumber tho.. 🤔 

WHICH IS BETTER 
65. Hugs or kisses: hugs
? 66. Lips or eyes: eyes
 67. Shorter or taller: maybe.. a LITTLE taller????????????? if ANYTHING??
 68. Older or younger: I am 19 and too far in either direction is Uncomfortable 😐
 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: What Does This Mean (in general tummies are nice tho) 
71. Sensitive or loud: hm?? I'm sensitive to loud noises???? I really don't know what this means
 72. Hook up or relationship: relationship
 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: "i’m a hesitant trouble-maker" -my gf and honestly, same 

HAVE YOU EVER: 
74. Kissed a Stranger: no 
75. Drank hard liquor: hell yea 
76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I've briefly been unable to find them but I always find them again 
 77. Turned someone down: yes have you ever been friends with a Nice Guy 
78. Sex on the first date: what is this... Sex
 79. Broken someone’s heart: probably since I've turned people down 
80. Had your heart broken: yeah
 81. Been arrested: nope 😏don't plan on it either 
82. Cried when someone died: umm I cried like a week after someone died does that count? My emotions are delayed sometimes
 83. Fallen for a friend: ;) ye 

 DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
 84. Yourself: barely
 85. Miracles: not technically 
86. Love at first sight: sometimes 
87. Santa Claus: again not technically but I think he's a good symbol for kids and in general positive vibes during the holiday season
 88. Kiss on the first date: yeanoooo.. it takes a while for me. When in doubt just ask. And listen to my response lmao (someone kissed me after I said no and MMM 😬) 

OTHER:
 90. Current best friend name: I can't just pick one 😫I have like 10 REALLY great friends I trust with my life 
 91. Eye color: grey-green
 92. Favorite movie: the only movie I can think of right now is Jupiter Ascending because i just saw it last night and it's the first movie I've seen in months lol. OH FUCKING HECK INTERSTELLAR THATS MY FAVORITE MOVIE I LOVE INTERSTELLAR 

NOW, TAG 20 PEOPLE: imma do what tessa did and tag the last 20 mutuals in my notes so don’t feel obligated to do this or even read it! also if you don’t want me to tag you in these in the future let me know and i’ll do my best to avoid it. @gordamnramsey, @mysteriousquartz, @celestialmoonlights, @viviannevendetta, @carryonmywaywardplanet, @jamesxfilesthemeroach, @lordsardine, @woahdaleks, @prettythinker, @belleweather, @squidego, @reck2468, @sexyninjakitty96, @animeandmanga-bearcat, @thesamanthagossamer

im actually gonna cut it off there at 15 bc i don’t have that many active mutuals lol oK HAVE FUN EVERYBODY make sure to tag me if you do this!