#also sorry for slow posting it's hard to fit in art asks when I'm working on ch5 lol

[danganronpa96]

Yo, same person who suggested the otome DR96 crack idea. I have an idea that if this were an actual game, then the Island of Love mode is unlocked where it just a scenario in which Hayasaka bonds with new and old friends without the death game and capture the hearts of his possible love interests. Shenanigans ensues, especially Mai causing the shenanigans.

the show was quickly cancelled due to lack of enthusiasm for choice

[nebulousfishgills]

Yours

Request by: Anonymous - Can I do an anonymous request for a Loki x reader where he returns to the reader after a few years and he is surprised to see that she has a child, but it turns out it is his child he didn’t know about.

Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Mild angst, I guess?

ฯฯฯ

"How was school today, (D/N)?" You asked, carefully looking at your five year old daughter in the rear-view mirror. She looked at you with her bright green eyes and a wide grin. Her front tooth was missing, the beginnings of her new tooth starting to poke out from her gums.

"Good! We read a Curious George book and talked about colors!" Your daughter said enthusiastically.

You smiled, crinkling your tired eyes. "Do you have a favorite color?"

"I like yellow."

"Yellow's a very pretty color."

You turned into your neighborhood, scanning the street signs to find yours. It was a brief moment of quiet before (D/N) spoke again.

"Miss Amy also said Parents Day is soon. She sent this home for you to look at." She said.

You only slightly paled at your daughter's words as you pulled into the driveway and took the envelope from (D/N)'s hands. Parents Day was a day in mid September where the parents could come into the class and their child could show them what they were learning. They could ask questions to the teacher about how the children were being taught.

"It's on Friday? At noon?" You half asked to yourself. Gently, you turned around in your seat to face your daughter with a sad smile. "(D/N), I have to work that day. I don't think I can go."

(D/N) frowned and slightly slumped in her seat.

"You can never go to anything." She sighed. It crushed you to see her so sad.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I've already missed too many days for when you or I get sick. I can take you out for frozen yogurt that afternoon, though. Would that be okay?" You asked, biting your lip.

"I guess. I wish Daddy were here." (D/N) sighed.

"Me too, kiddo." You said, getting out of the car and shutting the door. She followed suit, dragging her Minnie Mouse backpack on the pavement behind her. "Me too."

You had seen the other parents' glances whenever you dropped (D/N) off at kindergarten in the morning. It was mostly mothers who dropped off their kids, so you coming in alone wasn't totally abnormal. Though it was like High School all over again: cliques of girls whispering about you in groups of three or four while glancing at you with pursed lips. Being a single parent was the abnormal thing. Your town was small, so gossip spread like wildfire.

"...Got knocked up by some foreign guy."

"...Left her to pursue an art career."

"...He left town as soon as she told him he was pregnant."

You honestly didn't know how some of those rumors spread. People's imaginations were limitless, you figured. Well, the detail about the father being "some foreign guy" wasn't too far off. But you couldn't really say the father was an actual god, they'd think you were crazy for sure. So, you let the rumors spread and eventually they had less and less effect on you. The side glances didn't exactly make you feel good, though.

You entered the small house, following (D/N) inside. She put her backpack on the hook and sat at the kitchen table.

"Do you want something to eat?" You asked. She nodded and you went to rummage around in the pantry for something. (D/N) wasn't particularly picky about her snacks. You settled on a half empty bag of pretzel sticks and poured some into a bowl. (D/N) took it and started to go up the stairs. "Remember, clean up your crumbs."

Once you heard her door close, you pulled a (favorite soda/seltzer) out of the fridge and sat at the table, resting your head in your hand with a sigh. You wanted to go to the parent night, you really did. But it wasn't worth risking your job over. Your boss already made it hard for you because she knew your situation. She was the type of person who believed in marriage before children and gave you your work with a slightly disgusted glance every day. This was your life, and the sooner you accepted that, the better.

There was a quick knock at the front door that shook you out of your thoughts. Sighting, you stood up to get it. You hoped it wasn't your nosy neighbor, always offering to babysit (D/N) because "there's only one you and I can make it easier." She always asked for a ridiculously high payment that you couldn't afford along with the offer. Luckily, you had most of the weekends off and (D/N) went to full day kindergarten on the weekdays.

"For the last time, Donna, I don't need your charity babysi-" you started as you opened the door, but abruptly cut yourself off. It wasn't your neighbor, or your mom that brought you pies sometimes, or the Amazon guy for that matter.

"Loki?" You asked, eyes wide. Sure enough, there was your estranged ex boyfriend. He nervously picked at the pilling green sweater he wore, barely meeting your eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I... Well..." Loki stuttered, biting his lip. You sighed and opened the door wider.

"Get in and pull yourself together." You said cooly. Loki nodded as he slowly entered the house, sitting on the edge of the sofa like there were needles poking out of the back cushion. You sat down next to him with your arms folded.

"I'm sure you're very angry with me." Loki started.

"What gave you that impression? My folded arms, my tone, or the fact that you've been gone for five years?" You snapped.

"(Y/N), I can explain-"

"You left me, Loki. In the middle of the night, no explanation. Just a note on the pillow saying that you love me and how much it hurt that you just had to leave right then. You didn't think that maybe explaining it to me when I was awake would be a better idea? No, because you just had me wake up the next morning with no you and a half assed note. So, yeah, I'm angry!" You yelled, not even trying to hold back.

"I know, and I'm so sorry. It's just... I was scared-" Loki tried to apologize.

"Scared? Of what? Loving a mortal? I thought that it didn't matter to you." Your tone started to form into a more hurt one than anything.

"No, it's not that." Loki said.

"Well, then what is it?"

"I was scared for you, your safety. I've done wrong in the past, my darling, and I've had people hunting for me, bad people. I didn't want you to get swept up in it. That was part of the reason why I left. But I wanted to figure out how to fix it. I always intended to come back, but not until I was sure we were safe." Loki explained. You sat in silence, considering his words.

"Well, you can't expect to be able to waltz back into my life like nothing happened." You said in a tone that probably didn't fit the words you were saying. A sympathetic tone with harsh words.

"I didn't expect to."

"Mama, I heard you yelling.... Mama, who is that?" You jumped at the sound of your daughter having come back down the stairs. You cleared your throat, trying to find the right words.

"Uh... Well..." You spluttered. "He's..."

"Have I been gone long enough for you to find the comfort of another man?" Loki didn't sound angry, rather he sounded sad.

"No, there's been no one else. (D/N), come here please." You said. Timidly, the little girl climbed into your lap and watched the strange new man intently. "(D/N), this is your daddy."

Both Loki and (D/N) looked at you in surprise.

"I found out a week after you left. She's your daughter. She has your eyes." You said shyly. "She's yours."

(D/N) took a second to process the information before giggling. She lept out of your lap and into Loki's arms. He caught her with an "uff" from the impact. He looked at the little girl carefully and did notice her eyes were the same shade of green as his. He felt a sort of familial bond with her as she hugged him tightly.

"Now that you're here, Mama can go to Parents Night!" She said enthusiastically.

"(D/N), slow down, he just got here." You laughed. "And we still have to figure things out. I still work, you know."

"Oh, right. Well, at least I have a daddy now!"

"If you'll have me back?" Loki asked you. You looked from Loki to the daughter you shared clutching him like a koala bear. You sighed and smiled. (D/N) needed her father, more than you wanted to admit. And you still loved him more than you wanted to admit.

"I can't forgive you right away, but we can build it back up." You agreed. "But in the future, just talk to me, okay?"

"Of course, my darling." Loki said, kissing your temple lightly.

ฯฯฯ

Hope you enjoyed this, Nonnie!

Requests are open! Rules and characters are on the pinned post on my profile!

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Firelight

Gerlion Rated T and up for minor swearing and minor nudity.

Also, I'm sorry I'm bad at technology and I've only got mobile and they updated it and I dont know/can't figure out how to put a read more break in.

Geralt and Dandelion reunite after a long time apart. Its fluff, complete fluff. They're so soft with one another.

This lovely piece was inspired by art created by @johix with permission I'll figure out how to link it. But I recommend checking out all the art.

It had been nearly nine months since he last saw his bard. It wasn't unusual for their paths to cross and diverge like the threads of a tapestry twinning around one another; close but never consistantly together. Dandelion was often called away to court, to Oxenfurt, or some festivity or other and he always went where he was wanted. Geralt never stopped him; though he often wanted to reach out, grab a slender and deceivingly muscled arm and say, "stay you're wanted here more than they want you anywhere else." But his lips stayed stubbornly shut as he watched the blond ride away on his muleish stead. He would turn his back and tend to the nearest contracts he could find. At first he'd been glad for the others departures, now they left him aching in a way he feared to define. So he would focus on his work, on the Path and push all thoughts of the Bard away until he was alone with inky night and moonlight for company. Then and only then he would wonder what his friend was doing.

This year he had been eager to get back on the path and left the keep far to early. The others had warned him but he was restless, concerned even. He hadn't heard anything from the bard in the three months leading into winter. It was May now. Summer had yet to grace the continent and snow continued to stick stubbornly to her. He hadn't made it to town, and that was okay. He was freezing but he'd dealt with worse. He stoked the fire up and leaned against the tree behind him. He flexed his fingers in his gloves to keep them from growing stiff.

He knows he should have found a cave or some other shelter but he'd been loath to leave the road. The more time he spent on it the more likely he was to run into Dandelion. Instead he began to meditate and wrinkled his nose at the scent of rain permeating the air. He hoped it would hold off until the morrow. He didn't mind rain when he didn't need to be out in the path. Meaning, he liked the rain if he was cooped up in an inn with Dandelion. He always tried to keep him from getting sick, despite the need to be on the oath. But tonight he wasn't in an inn with Dandelion. He was in forest clearing bustled against a dry spot beneath a tree with snow and ice all around him. The thought of being at a warm inn with his musician made his chest ache desperately. Slowly he managed to meditate. Meditation turned to sleep as soon as he chose to lie down in his bed roll. Roach shifted to his left to keep herself warm but never went far.

 

He woke cold and stiff to blue grey light. If he were a normal human and not so fucking cold he'd have probably rolled over and gone back to sleep. But instead he was a witcher and rain scented heavier on the air. That alone is enough to incline him to get a move on with the day. Carefully he stood rolling his joints, they cracked and popped at the movement sore from the last hunt and the cold. He breathed through his nose and set about feeding Roach. Then he turned to begin gathering his supplies. His heart jumped in his chest at the sound of distant music. There was a troupe, if the noise was anything to go by, traveling up the road. They were a ways off and he couldn't make out individual instruments yet. The music was to far away. Still, he forced himself to slow and methodically work through packing everything up at a more subdued pace. He had no way of knowing if Dandelion was with them, but he hoped he was. It was safer for the trabedour to travel with a group and more to his and the bards liking as well.

Satisfied that the group would catch up if he kept Roach to a walk he rejoined the road. This way he would be far enough ahead not to bother them, and close enough that if Dandelion was with them he'd be able to see him. He kept Roach at a careful pace and she seemed content to meander. His coin purse was currently full at his side, and the season was early. He could dally a little. Still he wondered at the futility. It would have been better to write to Oxenfurt or go himself. They would know where to find the poet. He listened as the music drew closer. There were several lutist. Which he could say wasn't uncommon as it was one of the preferred bardic instruments. He strained his ears none the less, Toruviels lute had a specific sound and he was well aquanited with it. He smiled and forced himself not to turn back towards the musicians. He was a witcher, he'd scare them off. He slowed Roach as much as possible. And then he heard it, the stutter of a chord gone off tune and forgotten. They way it would if he complimented the musician while he was playing. He always made the best faces.

"Geralt." He kept Roach moving, gripping the reigns hard in anticipation. Then he heard the murmurs of surprise as Dandelion ran ahead and called out,

"Geralt of Rivia, you gigantic oaf, I know you can hear me!" The indignant tone of Dandelions voice pulled him over the edge of his little game and he stopped. His heart beating a little faster, a little stronger than it ought, as it always did around the poet. He dismounted his horse and held out one hand to give or receive a hug. Something he was growing accustomed to doing with Dandelion. The bard rushed forward unabashed and wrapped his arms, one hand still holding his lute firmly, around Geralt and squeezing with all his strength. Geralt returned the favor, one armed, the other still outstretched to hold Roaches reigns.

The hug lasted longer than it ought to have, and then some. When they finally came apart Geralt raised an eyebrow and absently reached a hand out to brush shoulder length blond curls. He smiled softly amusement curling in his stomach with something far more dangerous.

"What are these?"

"Curls Geralt. You've seen them before."

Dandelion notes with brightness in his eyes. Geralt is being very tender he thinks as he flicks his eyes to the hand still in his hair.

"I know. But I've never seen them on you before. Nobles. Whores. The like."

Geralt says simply and something like sadness tugs at Dandelions heart. He was prepared with a quip but it slips from his tongue and instead he whispers out a breathy,

"You don't like it."

He looks to the ground, body language changing. Geralt smells the acrid scent of disappointment on him almost instantly. Even if he hadn't he'd have realized his mistake. He brushes his hand down and catches the lutists chin pushing it up and then dropping his hand to his shoulder. They have an audience.

"That's not what I said, nor is it what I meant, Dandelion. Introduce us?"

The poets meets his eyes and blinks. Right. Okay. He smiles,

"There isn't much to be said in introduction. I only met this lovely group last night. I don't even know all their names yet."

A short brunette in bright colors hands him his geldings reigns. They know he won't be continuing with them.

The brunette nods to Geralt and speaks softly,

"It was a pleasure to play music with you master Dandelion."

And with that the group turns down the path to the right. Geralt must have worked hard to time it so he'd be seen before they had a chance to turn down the other path. Though Dandelion would not have gone that way anyways.

Geralt looks him up and down again and and he flushes under the scrutiny and then speaks through a genuine smile.

"What is that on your face?"

He nearly reaches up to brush his hands against the white beard. He refrains barely as Geralt does it himself. He's fairly certain the man had forgotten all about it.

"Left the keep early this year. It's warmer like this."

Then he watches Geralt glare at the sky and take a deep breath.

"You'll want to put that in it's case. Smells like rain."

Dandelion moves quickly to follow his instruction and nearly jumps when thunder claps across the mountain range. He shivers and mounts Pegasus.

"Where to?"

Gerlat hesitates a moment. He shouldn't be caught off gaurde but he is. It's always this easy with Dandelion. Easy in a way it has never been with Yennefer, or with anyone else. It's natural almost to the point of being dangerous. He knows that Dandelions will follow him anywhere. Hen wont ask questions, but will walk beside him loyal and true.It eases something in his heart to see the other man beside him again. He settles something in him the way Yennefer never did. He realizes Dandelion is looking at him with raised eyebrows and a cheeky grin.

"That glad to see me?"

He swallows and clears his throat ignoring the second question.

"There is a village up ahead. If you're mule moves fast enough we may make it before the rain gets bad."

Dandelion laughs and the remnants of tension in him depart. They ride in companionable silence for a while before he asks,

"What are you doing all the way out here? The roads and weather are hardly fit for traveling, even for me."

He glances over and meets pools of bright blue sky. The poet is quiet for some time and it's only broken by the wind picking up around them and whispering through the woods as boughs bend beneath its force. The rain comes next and Dandelion finally speaks. Geralt remains facing forward carefully neutral.

"I hadn't heard anything about you in months. I had no idea if you even made it to Kaer Morhen. So, I thought to myself, Dandelion if you get closer to the keep you might hear something. Now, here I am hoping to find out if you're still alive. Figured being close would increase my chances of running into you too. And I suppose it worked."

He seems almost embarrassed Geralt thinks. Only embarrassment isn't an emotion he's ever seen on the musician. He was shameless and full of mirth. He felt deeply, certainly had had bouts of sorrow at times. But embarrassment… no this had to be something else. He seemed sombre. Almost sad as he fell into a silence that meant his thoughts had hold of him. Geralt shook his head, grateful when Dandelion did not ask him the same. Unfortunately he fell unusually quiet, normally he would grumble or speak his thoughts allowed. The silence upset him and he could sense the poet growing morose and gave him some space until he noted the bards teeth chattering. He looked miserable, lips pushed together to keep his teeth from chattering, curls gone limp with the rain. His fingers were probably just as cold as Geralts own. He slowed Roach.

"Wheres your cloak?"

" Forgot to pull it out of my bag."

He laughs. Gerlat could kick himself for not reminding the bard, but then, he was a grown man. Still the thought of him sick…. Absently he removed his outer cloak and handed it over. It wouldn't do to much now but it was a kind gesture none-the-less.

"Geralt, no sense in both of us being cold."

He simply cast Dandelion a withering glance and the trabedour smiled as he took the cloak. Geralt returned to his normal speed and missed the way Dandelion smiled into the fur and breathed deep. He almost missed the whispered "thank you" as well, but the wind carried it to his ears and he held it close.

By the time they passed through the archway of a sleepy little village he didn't know the name of, Dandelion was shivering from the cold. It had started as a thunderstorm and quickly devolved into a snowstorm. And while he had already been soaked through he was grateful for Gerlat's cloak around him. Though he was sorry too. He knew how cold Geralt often got, likely from having a slower heart rate.

They made their way with practiced ease to the local inn. Dandelion watched in slight awe as Geralt made arrangements with the matron. She had known his name, no one had so much as even batted an eye at the witcher. He shivered and tried to focus on keeping his feet warm.

The matron knew the witchers who passed this way every spring and winter. She'd been quiet young when Geralt had first met her, now she was a mother who had aged kindly.

"I'll have the boys tend to your horses. Jason's getting a fire going for you. He'll bring up some more wood in a bit."

As if on queue, summoned by his name, he came around the corner of the desk and nodded at her before heading out the back door. She smiled and handed Geralt the key. "Go on go get warm before your friend catches a cold "

"Thank you."

He handed the key to Jaskier who moved quickly forgetting his bag in his rush to get himself and his lute dry. Geralt smiled a toothy grin and shook his head shifting his own bags to gather Dandelions.

"Oh dear, I had better ask, will you be going out for supper or shall I bring some up when it's ready?"

" If it wouldn't be any trouble. And maybe a demijohn?"

She winked,

"Vodka?"

"Please."

"No problem, off you go. He's waiting."

He would have blushed if his biology allowed it. There was something about the way she looked between them and spoke that made Geralt feel vulnerable.

He followed damp footprints to their room and stepped in the door left slightly ajar. Dandelion had already hung his cloak up and stripped out of his shirt and boots, and was currently putting his lute on the chair a good distance from the fire to draw out any moisture.

"Finally Geralt! I was half naked before I realized I forgot them. And the fire was so nice I couldn't bare to go back and get them. What kept you?"

He stepped back as the bard reached for his bags and started removing his armor. He shook his head,

"Supper arrangments." He says simply.

"Then were staying in?"

"Yes."

"Excellent!" He watches the musician swap a change of clothes for his night clothes.

Although he was fairly dry beneath his armor and cloak Geralt was freezing. He removed his boots and looked up only to freeze. Breath stilling in his lungs as he swallowed tightly. He followed bare leg, muscled and lean, from floor to hip, over the curve of the poets ass, over the dip of his back and up the curve of his shoulders. He let out a breath and pointedly averted his eyes. His armor needed cleaning, he was sure of it.

He hadn't thought it possible to make Geralt uncomfortable at this point. But what he'd seen out of the corner of his eye told him otherwise. Though he'd only caught him looking away. He could have looked for a moment, or minutes he'd never know. Slowly he dressed in his sleepwear. The fire had been nice against his skin and he hadn't wanted to dress damp. You got sick when you did that. He dried his hair out with a thin towel from his pack. He'd need to replace that. He made his way back over to Geralt as he pulled his shirt on.

"The fire is nice." He says gently as he sits beside him. Geralt looks up at him from his armor and nods. They stare at one another for a moment then Geralt speaks.

"You seemed upset earlier. Was it just the weather?"

Oh. He wants to lie but he would never. Besides, Geralt can read him like a book, never mind the enhanced witcher senses. He'd never stand a chance. Instead he looks away, towards the crackling fire and let's silence reign while he thinks through what he means to say. The truth but not all of it. Just enough. The only noise is the wind rustling the shutters against the walls and the gentle crackling of the fire.

"I wouldn't know." He starts voice gentle and far away. "If you died. I wouldn't know. And if I ever did find out it would be from some rumor in a tavern passed through far to many drunken mouths to hold much truth. There's no one to tell me if you die while I'm not there Geralt. And that… scares me a little. I worry for you and it would pain me to never know or to find out so late. And know that I'll never know the truth of what happened." He looks to the witcher now and meets molten sun with ocean depths.

"But," he continues, "we're both here now. No sense in dwelling on something like that."

Something shifts in Geralts face like he wants to argue. He's already working out some way to change the topic so he doesn't give himself away. He loves the man next to him that's why it scares him. The knock comes loudly from the door and he moves to open it grateful for the matrons timing.

He smiles and opens the door wide.

"Thank you." He says to both the matron and her husband as he drops wood near the hearth and she places supper and a flagon of something on the table.

"No problem. Enjoy, its roast." With that they leave them to their dinner and Dandelion is grateful for the distraction. Geralt joins him at the table but neither speaks.

Geralt presses his lips together. What Dandelion said nearly ruins his appetite. He won't press but it makes his gut twist to think of the pain his friend would be in. The agony of not knowing. Though those same thoughts run through his head when he doesn't keep them in check. He knows if anything happens to his poet there would be hell to pay. He shakes his head and focuses instead on eating. The quiet of the room is unsetteling. They should be talking, reminiscing about their time apart and it's almost grating that he can't move past the last conversation. But then Dandelion uncorks the vodka and pours them both a generous amount. He hands a cup to Geralt and raises his own.

"To reunions." Geralt smiles and clinks their glasses together. Grateful that they're falling into their rhythm.

Dandelion asks how the winter went and Geralt sighs. It's always the same. His brothers are great but he always find himself missing his poets softness and sound. He wont say this of course. He wont say he lays awake wondering what he's doing in Oxenfurt. Who hes with. If hes happy. He won't admit that loneliness creeps in on him when they're apart, that he misses pulling the bard close to his chest when they sleep.

Instead he tells him that they repaired the battlements, the walls, the stables. That Vesimir had made them clean and catalogue the library. The library he knows Dandelion wants to see and would have to be forcably removed from and he knows that the poets only joking when he says "you'll have to show me one day" but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to grab him by the wrist and take him there. He talks of training and running the trail with Lambert and Eskel like they did when they were young.

"And what of you Dandelion? How was your winter?" The musician smiles and takes a drink straight from the bottle.

"Boring Geralt. This bach of students don't care. They have no heart and less inspiration. It's like they're only there to please their parents or something. To mingle. They don't care about learning what the truth behind folk tales are or why they're wrong. The composition courses are a bit better I suppose," another drink, his face flushes pink in the flickering light of the fire," at least they can make things rhyme even if it's meaningless. And it was so lonely Geralt. I missed traveling. I know it's better for my purse, retirement, and the like to work straight in the winter and travel in the summer months but honestly, I regret it this winter. Not that I could have traveled much alone."

He's rambeling now and Geralt loves it. Loves listening to him talk about nothing and everything. The way his face goes soft and his eyes grow bright and he can only be described as whimsical. How his voice dances always lulling and pulling him in. He takes the vodka and drinks a long pull from the bottle, he shouldn't let Dandelion have much more if they want to start out early. Though if the storm keeps up they might be stuck a few days.

He acknowledges the ard with a soft hum as he gets up to stoke the fire and add a few logs. It's gotten late. He makes his way back towards the bed and brushes his hand down the poets shoulder and his arm before passing on. He crawls to the far side of the bed and waits wondering if he'll understand the invitation and join him or take the other bed. He hopes that the Dandelion understood the gesture. The poet stands and looks at him.

Dandelion takes a breath to steady himself. There are two beds and he desperately wants to join Geralt, help him stay warm, bury his face against his chest, breath in leather and earth and musk. He blinks looking at Geralt for any sign of what he's supposed to do and just as its growing uncomfortable long in his slightly tipsy mind Geralt reaches out and hand and he knows he's wanted.

"It's cold."

Geralt offers quietly as he shuffles under the blankets next to him. He needn't have bothered Dandelion doesn't need an excuse. But if it makes him feel more comfortable he'll roll with it even as it feel like lead on his chest. He rolls onto his side and buries his face into the blankets between them. The bed is small for two but they'll make it work, they always do. He watches as Geralt lounges beside him thinking about how beautiful he is with shadows dancing against his skin as hes bathed in firelight alone. Then Geralt sits up so abruptly and swallows so that Dandelion joins him instantly.

"Is everything alright Geralt?"

"Yes. Just. Don't move."

And he laughs gently, breath coming out calmer now. He catches the way Geralts throat bobs as he swallows and the shadows dance across his throat. He both wants to kiss it and compose about it. Instead he shifts a leg underneath himself and leaves the other outstretched. He's not sure what's going on but he will do as told. But then Geralt moves and lays his head in his lap and when he looks down comatose pools of cooling gold meet his own cobalt depths and his breath catches. He stutters in another one and then smiles fondly. Geralts eyes flutter shut and he can't help himself as he places a hand in white hair and runs his fingers through it. He's certain it's been months since he had physical contact that wasn't violent.

He doesn't hum or sing. This moment is precious. It will be locked in his heart, witnessed only by the firefight and remembered in the lonliest of winter nights. But then Geralt looks at him again so he smiles softly and starts to open his mouth but theres a hand in limp gold locks by his face and he stops. Heart rate picking up, but not in fear and distantly he knows Geralt knows the ways he's affecting him. But he makes no move to pull away even as the calloused hand in his hair moves up to cup the back of his head and pull him down. Instead he closes his eyes and smiles. The kiss is everything he imagined it would be and then some.

[akathecentimetre]

Hey there, so I really like history as a subject, and I'm pretty good at it. The thing is, I don't know what my career options would be if I studied it, or if I would be able to make money. My parents are heavily discouraging me from taking it as a major. As a 'historian' in training' what's your take? Thank you

Hi there! Sorry for the delay, ‘tis the hectic season…

Oh man, I have so many thoughts for you. Full disclosure: this is something I have worked on a LOT over the course of my graduate career both at my uni and on a national level; most of my advice, however, comes from a PhD candidate’s perspective and may not be directly helpful to an undergraduate, and I should also emphasize that everything I can say on this is very firmly based on the U.S. market only. That being said, a lot of what I can say can be universally applied, so here we go - 

The number of history undergraduates in the U.S. has plummeted in the last decade or so, from it previously being one of the most popular majors. There are many interacting reasons for this: a changeover from older to younger, better-trained, energetic professors who draw in and retain students has been very slow to occur, partly because of a lack of a mandatory retirement age; the humanities have been systematically demonized and minimized in favor of the development of STEM subjects, to the occasional benefit of students of color and women but to the detriment of critical public discourse and historical perspective on current events; with many liberal arts colleges going under financially and the enormous expansion of academic bureaucracy everywhere, resources are definitely being diverted away from social and human studies towards fields which are perceived to pay better or perceived, as mentioned in the article above, as being more ‘practical.’ (We do need a ton more healthcare workers/specialists, but that’s a different conversation to have.) But now I feel like quoting a certain Jedi Master: everything your parents say is wrong. Let’s dive into why being a historian is a positive thing for you both as a person and as a professional - 

You will be a good reader. As you learn to decipher documents and efficiently and thoroughly read secondary literature, you will develop a particular talent for understanding what is important about any piece of writing or evidence (and this can go for visual and aural evidence as well). This will serve you well in any position in which you are collecting/collating information and reporting to colleagues or superiors, and evaluating the worth of resources. Specific example - editorial staff at publishing houses either private or academic, magazines, etc. 

You will be a good writer. This will get you a good job at tons of places; don’t underestimate it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been astonished (not in a punitive way, of course, but definitely with a sense of befuddlement) by how badly some of my Ivy-league students can write. Good writing is hard, good writing is rare, and good writing is a breath of fresh air to any employer who puts a high premium upon it in their staff. History in principle is the study of change; history in practice is presenting information in a logical, interesting, and persuasive manner. Any sort of institution which asks you to write reports, summaries, copy, etc. etc. will appreciate your skills. 

You will be a good researcher. This sounds like a given, but it’s an underappreciated and vital skill. Historians work as consultants. Historians work in government - almost every department has an Office of the Historian - and in companies, writing company histories and maintaining institutional archives. A strong research profile will also serve you well if you want to go on to work in museum studies and in libraries public or private/academic. As a historian, you will know not just where to find information, but what questions you have to ask to get to the answer of how to tackle, deconstruct, and solve a problem. This is relevant to almost any career path. 

You will provide perspective. Historians react to current events in newspapers and online - not just on politics, but culture as well (my favorite article of this week is about the historicity of The Aeronauts). Historians act as expert witnesses in court proceedings. Historians write books, good books, not just meant for academic audiences but for millions upon millions of readers who need thoughtful, intelligent respite from the present. Historians work for thinktanks, providing policy analysis and development (a colleague of mine is an expert on current events of war in Mali and works for multiple thinktanks and organizations because of it). Historians work for nonprofits or lobbying groups on issues of poverty, environmental safety, climate change, and minority and indigenous rights. In a world when Texas school textbooks push the states’ rights narrative, historians remind us that the Civil War was about slavery. Historians remind us that women and people of color have always existed. In this time and world where STEM subjects are (supposedly) flooding the job market, we need careful historical perspective more than ever. We need useful reactions to the 2016 election, to the immigration travesties on display at the southern border, to the strengthening of right-wing parties in Europe - and history classes, or thoughtfully historical classes on philosophy and political science, are one of the few places STEM and business students gain the basic ability to participate in those conversations. [One of my brightest and most wonderful students from last year, just to provide an anecdote, is an astrophysics major who complained to me in a friendly conversation this semester that she never got the chance to talk about ‘deep’ things anymore once she had passed through our uni’s centralized general curriculum, which has a heavy focus on humanities subjects.]

You will be an educator. Teaching is a profession which has myriad challenges in and of itself, but in my experience of working with educators there is a desperate need for secondary-school teachers in particular to have actual content training in history as opposed to simply being pushed into classrooms with degrees which focus only on pedagogical technique. If teaching is a vocation you are actually interested in, getting a history degree is not a bad place to start at all. And elementary/high schools aside, you will be teaching someone something in every interaction you have concerning your subject of choice. Social media is a really important venue now for historians to get their work out into the world and correct misconceptions in the public sphere, and is a place where you can hone a public and instructive voice. You could also be involved in educational policy, assessment/test development (my husband’s field, with a PhD in History from NYU), or educational activism. 

If some of this sounds kind of woolly and abstract, that’s because it is. Putting yourself out there on the job market is literally a marketing game, and it can feel really silly to take your experience of 'Two years of being a Teaching Assistant for European History 1500-1750’ and mutate it to 'Facilitated group discussions, evaluated written work from students [clients], and ran content training sessions on complex subjects.’ But this sort of translation is just another skill - one that can be learned, improved, and manipulated to whatever situation you need it to fit.

Will you make money? That’s a question only you can answer, because only you know what you think is enough money. That being said, many of the types of careers I’ve mentioned already are not low-paying; in my experience expertise is, if you find the right workplace and the rewarding path, usually pretty well-remunerated. 

Specific advice? Hone your craft. Curate an active public presence as a historian, an expert, a patient teacher, and as as person enthusiastic about your subject. Read everything and anything. Acknowledge and insist upon complexity, and celebrate it when you can. 

And finally - will any of what I’ve said here make it easy? No, because no job search and no university experience is easy these days. It’s a crazy world and there are a lot of awful companies, bosses, and projects out there. But I do very firmly believe that you can find something, somewhere, that will suit your skills, and, hopefully, your passions too. 

Resources for you: the American Historical Association has a breakdown of their skills-based approach to the job market, reports on the job market(s) for history PhDs collectively called ‘Where Historians Work,’ and a mentorship program, Career Contacts, which could connect you with professional historians in various workplaces. There is a very active community of historians on Twitter; search for #twitterstorians. For historians who identify as female, Women Also Know History is a newer site which collates #herstorian bios and publications to make it easier for journalists to contact them for expert opinions. ImaginePhD provides career development tools and exercises for graduate students, but could probably be applied to undergrads as well. The Gilder Lehrman Institute is one of the premier nonprofits which develops and promotes historical training for secondary school teachers and classroom resources (U.S. history only). Job listings are available via the AHA, the National Council on Public History, and the IHE, as well as the usual job sites. And there’s an awful lot more out there, of course - anyone who reads or reblogs this post is welcome to add field-specific or resource-specific info. 

I hope this helps, Anon, or at least provides you with a way to argue in favor of it to your parents if it comes to that. Chin up!

[franeridart]

i love your art so much?? like the comics and stuff are fantastic and i'm sndhwahsjsbdjd about them

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much!!!! Oh my g o d s!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Thank you for always providing us with such good soft kiribaku 😍 also, I’m obsessed with the Bakusquad in big comfy sweaters in that last comic! Omg they look so cute

!!!!!!!!!! I’m happy you liked them!!!!!! *O* big comfy sweaters are my weakness, honestly hahaha

Anon said:Hello! I adore your comics, they’re all so good I cri. There’s not a single comic you’ve made that I don’t like. They’re all just so cute and you always draw things I could see happening in canon. It’s like you understand every character so well and is able to draw them in character because of that, if you know what I mean?? And also your art is so pretty and unique I just!? I lov.

Anon said:I scream and cry *in a good way* very loudly everytime you update. So thank you.

You’re!!!!! so cute!!!! Oh my gods!!!!! Try not to scream if it’s too late tho haha

Anon said:Um… hello. I just wanted to say that i really love your BNHA and HQ stuff especially your Kiribaku. It has replenished my soul so thank you very much!

I’M GLAD YOU LIKE THEM!!!! Oh my gods!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Anon said:Hi! I was wondering what your main account is! Have a nice day hon, love your work ❤️

Thank you!!!!! And it’s @franeridan !! :D

Anon said:lol on your recent post i read “*Denki voice* the only fast thing about those two is their speed during NIGHTS” and I thought ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) they be getting it in bed. but then i re-read it and was a bit disappointed lol

A n o n they’re not even dating yet!!!!! They don’t even know they wanna date each other yet!!!!! They’re two small slow turtles!!!!!! Two cute little baby snails still unaware of their very much romantic feels for each other!!!! Also nothing is ever n s f w on this blog anyway lol

Anon said:I LOVE HOW YOU DRAW KIRI YOUR KIRISHIMA IS TOOO CUTE

OH MY GODS THANK YOU!!!!!!!! I love drawing him and I’m g l a d I can make him at least a bit as cute and adorable as he is in canon!!!!!!!!

Anon said:OC’s?

If you’re asking if I have any, then they’re in my original art tag!!

Anon said:The only word I can find to fit that last comic is "mushy." Fran, they're tough boys, how can you make them so soft. (No complaints tho)

....................they’re soft boys anon, mushy babies, as soft as marshmallows, squishy and fluffy for each other (glad you like it hahaha)

Anon said:Dude, I want someone to look at me the way Kirishima is looking at Bakugou in that drawing

*whispers* it’s loooooooooooooveeeeeeeeeeeeeee~ I’m happy I managed to portray that right hahaha

Anon said:is bakugou singing all star or despacito

……………welp, I did say you’re free to imagine whatever you like best, so if that’s your pick go for it hahaha (but if you pick despacito may I suggest you go for Eddie Van Der Meer’s fingerstyle guitar cover cause honestly that’s A+++)

Anon said:Kirishima’s eyes in that newest drawing blow me away. I mean, the whole thing blows me away, but holy shit, those eyes.

;A; thank you so much oh my god !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (っ˘зʕ•̫͡•ʔ

Anon said:Fraaaaann I have a biiig problem, I either keep sending asks but forget what they were or I keep *think* about sending asks and forgst if I did or not??? So “wait, did I sent this???” Is what I think when I read %80 of your answersssss. Fran help meee my forgetful ass is gonna be the death of meeee ahhh

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wELP! I answer to nearly all asks so either you were the one to send it or not 99% it’ll be answered anyway! But if you really wanna know which are yours you could put a ✧ at the end of your asks, so that you’ll recognize them!!!! :D

Anon said:Asdfghjkll ohh you and your art are so lovely I’m dead I’m never gonna stop staring at that last bakushima. Baku with a guitar singing to Kiri would already have been enough AND THEN IT HAD TO LOOK THAT GOOD I WAS BLOWN AWAY the colors are so wonderful and the shadows and postures on both of them and the details on the whole thing and even their clothes AHHHHH it’s so good 20/10 highest quality I’m staring at it and zooming in at everything and just !!!! Bless you

*REALLY GROSS SOBBING* thank you so much oh my g o d !!!!!!!!!!! this ask means the world to me??? Holy heck???? (* ;A;) bless you

Anon said:Okay but the “K” around his neck as me cryin

You guys notice everything oh my god hahaha I’m glad tho!!!!! makes me weirdly super happy~

Anon said:I honestly love seeing you babble in your tags, it’s so precious and I look forward to it every time I see you’ve posted something :D

…………..h e c k  that’s such a cute thing to say I’m !!!!! (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Anon said:You: a quick doodle Me, and intellectual: a fucking masterpiece worth all my money ily kami-senpi

o h m y g o d you guys are out to kill me I swear (∗∕ ∕•̥̥̥̥∕ω∕•̥̥̥̥∕) (also you said Kami and I thought Kaminari and I just, yes, that’s good, I’m Kaminari, I’ll accept this title with 90% of all it entails l m a o)

Anon said:Lmao, I’m the franswers anon, let go with rice(cakes), anyways I’m sorry for the l existential dread about it, riipo

The dark secret I’m sure no one had realized yet following this blog is that I’m weak for puns and I can’t believe I hadn’t realized I could make one with my replies tag j f c shame on me

Anon said:Thanks to you i started to ship kaminari and sero so much, i have been writing some little fics cause they are so adorable, anyway thank you so mich for introducing me to this amazing ship💞

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH you’re MOST welcome!!!!!!!! Thank you for providing more content for this super tiny ship!!!!! ( *¯ ³¯*)♡

Anon said:What are your feelings on bakumina because I love this pairing (I actually love the whole bakusquad as a big ot5)

I love them!!!! I also drew them, once! Definitely my fav het ship for Bakugou, they look super nice aesthetically next to each other and their personalities would mesh super well, too! Also I’m still of the opinion they should have a kid. Like. Just to have the kid with the strongest quirk ever. Like, if they feel like it. Just saying. 

Anon said:*WAVES HANDS FRANTICALLY* YES HELLO!!! I also ship serobaku!!!! Like so freaking hard!!!!!!!!!!! ASDFGHJK I’d die if you drew them bc they’re so rare!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SOON!!! LIKE, SUPER SOON!!!!! Cause I found out I’m not alone and that’s!!!!!!! Pumping me up a lot!!!!! I love that ship it deserves a lot more love

Anon said:I wish that some day… Class 1-b will have more screen time…

After this arc, probably? They’re having some classes with 1A, so they’ll be around more! Probably!! I can’t wait to know what Hiryuu’s quirk is actually about ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Anon said:Why isn’t Kamisero also called ElectricalTape? The second I post some kamisero, I think I’m going to tag it ElectricalTape somewhere…

They should be called that! I usually only go for names-combinations for the ships names (so kamisero and serokami and seronari and so on), but I’m sure if they were a bigger ship that would be the name! It’s not kamisero, but there’s a fic by @shizuumi151 in which they call themselves that, by the way~ (……….it’s honestly one of the fics I’ve read the most times in recent times so tbh if you feel like it you should check it out (σ･з･)σ )