#and I'm able to move them the get the exact gesture and angle I want

[canisalbus]

On the subject of hands are there any tips you have for studying hands? I’m decent but I’ve been trying to get better because I’m not enjoying the current process I use to draw them.

Figuring out that I can reference my own hands unlocked something for me, personally! I'm often eyeballing them while drawing, or using a mirror to get a better look at a difficult angle.

Capturing hands well has been one of my top priorities artistically ever since I was little, and it's been a long and frustrating, but eventually rewarding battle. They're still difficult to get right sometimes, but these days it's more of a pleasant challenge than a neverending struggle.

[httpvomitello]

AHH HI! i dont know if im going to be able to describe my request in a good way but im gonna try my best.

i was thinking something about ROTTMNT sleeping hcs. maybe where y/n (gender neutral) falls asleep on their shoulder and they get all flustered or if not just how they react to it.

sorry if its not too detailed lol its my first request. thanks!! <3

Awwwn, I'm glad your first request is here! And I hope it's just the way you imagined it~ ♡♡♡♡

Rest On My Shoulder *⁠.⁠✧

Leo tries to act cool when you fall asleep on his shoulder, but inside?

Total panic.

He smirks to himself, thinking, "Of course they trust me, I am the best."

But his smugness doesn’t last long because you shift slightly, and his heart does a flip

He freezes, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement

If anyone walks in, he’s quick to gesture for them to shut up

Sneaks glances at you like a lovesick idiot and gets caught once or twice by Donnie or Mikey, who don’t let him live it down

When you wake up, he’s back to his usual teasing self: “Comfortable, huh? Can’t say I blame you; I am pretty irresistible.”

Raph tenses up immediately when your head lands on his shoulder

His first instinct is to make sure you’re okay: "Did they fall asleep? Are they sick? What’s happening?"

Once he realizes you’re just resting, he lets out a soft breath and relaxes a little

He doesn’t want to move an inch in case he disturbs you

Looks down at you every so often with the softest expression

If Mikey or Leo walk by, they give him teasing grins, but he just glares silently, daring them to say something

Secretly, he’d let it happen again in a heartbeat.

Donnie is startled when your head lands on his shoulder, but he quickly recovers, though his cheeks are bright red

“Ah, well, this is... unexpected,” he mutters under his breath, trying not to freak out

He’s not used to physical closeness, so it takes him a moment to adjust

Once he does, he sits as still as a statue

Absolutely takes a mental note of the exact angle and time of this event, because he’s secretly very touched that you feel safe enough to fall asleep on him

When you wake up, he’ll act all nonchalant

But his voice might give away how flustered he actually is: “Oh, you’re awake. Did you, uh, sleep well?”

Mikey is ecstatic when you fall asleep on his shoulder

He immediately starts grinning like a dork

He doesn’t sit still, though

He’s constantly shifting slightly to make sure you’re comfortable, whispering things like, “You good, sleepyhead?”

Takes a selfie with you

(with your sleeping face hidden, of course)

and sends it to his brothers with a caption like: "I’m the fave! 💖"

Low-key proud that you feel safe with him and will brag about it later

When you wake up, he’s all sunshine and sweetness: “Aw, you woke up? You looked so peaceful!”

Might even ask if you want to nap on him again because he loved the experience so much.

[avyssoseleison]

Hi! Please could you write a short hurt/comfort for destiel? I'm in an angsty mood and I'm not sure why

Woops, I hope you consider 2.2k ‘short’. And I hope you’ll feel better soon! ♥

“You feeling any better, Cas?” Dean asked into the dimness of the room, only illuminated by the hall lights behind him. From his vantage point, he could only vaguely make out the shape of Castiel on top of his comforter, spread out like a starfish and eerily still. The weird position probably would have made Dean laugh any other day, but he didn’t feel like laughing in that moment -- the images of the last hunt were still burned too freshly in his mind. Of himself being struck down by one of the harpies and almost torn from limb to limb, had Castiel not arrived in the nick of time, deftly striking them down with the wrath of God, and looking so fucking lost and shell-shocked right after.

Though, ‘wrath of God’ was probably the wrong phrasing, seeing as Castiel had completely lost his grace not so long ago, and was just as human, even if a bit more awkward, as the rest of them. 

Dean guessed that was also the reason for his dramatic position, and his withdrawal from all of them once they had finished the hunt. Down in the dirt with them all, it must have sucked to have had such close calls, whereas before, he could have smote them with so much as a glance.

“Go away, Dean,” Castiel said, and his deadpan delivery actually made Dean laugh.

“Alright, princess, but only if you tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean could see Castiel turning his face towards him, the light from the hallway briefly catching in his eyes. 

“Because you always tell me what’s wrong whenever you are suffering.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Dean grumbled, feeling himself flush for some inexplicable reason. “Have it your way. I actually just came here to ask you if you wanted to come for dinner, but I’m guessing that Mr. Mopey Pants probably wants to eat about as much as he wants to talk.”

“That’s correct, Dean,” Castiel confirmed.

“Jesus,” Dean sighed to himself, regretting all of his life choices (as usually). Instead of doing the sensible thing and just walking away to let Castiel sulk by himself, he stepped into Castiel’s room and shut the door behind himself, extinguishing almost all of the outside light. Without bothering to turn on the ceiling light in return, he drew closer to the bed, stumbling in the darkness. Although he could not see with his eyes unadjusted to the lack of light, he knew the layout of the room well enough not to bump into anything -- besides, all he had to do was follow the always palpable existence of another human being in the room. Without so much as hitting his foot, his knees sank into the soft give of the mattress.

He wanted to sit down at the edge of the bed and have a calm and collected conversation with his best friend, as any normal person would do. What he wound up doing instead was not to stop there, for whatever reason: once his knees hit the bed, he suddenly found himself climbing on top of it, and since Castiel was all spread out on it, there was nowhere for Dean to go but on top of him. Not on top-on top of him, of course -- he did not press his body up against his, like some sexual fiend. No, all he did was try to lie down next to Castiel, and lied down on his arm and part of his thigh instead, though he tried to minimize the contact. However, he was apparently the only one interested in doing so because, despite their awkward positioning, Castiel made no move to withdraw from him and instead stayed rooted where he was, all spread out. 

As Dean adjusted his body, he thought he heard Castiel’s breath catch in the darkness, just so. For his own sanity, he decided to discard it.

“Cas, listen,” Dean began, “I know I’m not exactly the poster child for talking out your issues, but, uhm, I’m trying to do better. And encourage myself and other people to say when they got a problem. Be more open and all that. It’s a bit weird at first, I get it, but it does help.” That flush again, heating his skin. “Me, at least. It makes me feel better. Less alone, I guess. Less responsible for,” he made a throwaway gesture that could only be heard in the room, not seen, “everything, I guess.”

Castiel remained silent for a while, probaby mulling over Dean’s words. Then, he made a quiet sound of assent. “You do,” he agreed evenly, “feel responsible for everything.”

Dean could not help but groan. “Yeah, thanks, man. That wasn’t my point, though.”

“Yes,” Castiel said easily, “your point was that I should talk about whatever bothers me.”

Dean felt like rolling his eyes again. “If you got it, spare me your jokes.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, his arm twitching under Dean’s weight. He sounded surprised that Dean had gotten that his flat assessment had been an attempt at a joke and maybe a deflection -- as if Dean hadn’t known him long enough to be able to recognize his weird sense of humor that others often misunderstood as him being socially awkward.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed out, but there was no heat behind it. Just feeling Castiel’s arm and thigh under him was enough to keep him calm and somewhat endeared to the former angel, strangely enough. Maybe he needed to go out more.

“But,” Castiel began, pausing for yet another moment before commencing again, “but what if whatever bothers me is lying on top of me and trying to get me to talk about what bothers me?”

It took Dean a minute before he got what Castiel was driving at with his weird wording, and then he felt his body stiffening up. “You calling me a bother?” 

Right, he hadn’t come there to hear that kind of crap. If Cas wanted to be alone, then so be it.

Just as inelegantly as he had climbed onto the bed, he attempted to roll off of it. But before he could quite get up and leave the moody angel behind, there were hands grappling at his shoulder and hips, pulling him right back.

Dean grunted as he fell back against Castiel, who only tightened his grip to keep Dean in a weird kind of embrace. 

Suddenly finding himself winded, Dean could do nothing but stay where he was, Castiel’s arms around his chest and his face burrowed in his neck.

Cas smells so good, Dean thought in a moment of stupidity, incapable of not enjoying their unexpected proximity, Castiel’s hands and breath on his body. He wished they could stay like that forever, close and under cover of darkness, nothing but the two of them.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, the warmth of the spoken name not just in Dean’s heart but also on his skin. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to see you like that?”

Dean, dumbly drunk as he was on Castiel, was far from understanding whatever Castiel was hinting at. “Wha--?”

“See you almost ripped asunder from those harpies, crying out and yelling my name--,” Castiel faltered, swallowing. 

Dean didn’t even remember calling out for Castiel specifically. He thought all he had done was scream and curse and hoping for either Cas or Sam to come and help him.

“And had they succeeded, there would have been nothing I could’ve done for you. I could not have healed you, put your body back together the way it belongs. The way it is right now.” 

With any other guy and under any other circumstances, the way one of Castiel’s hands suddenly roamed his body while the other held Dean tightly against his own body probably would have felt like someone trying to cop a feel against Dean’s will. Especially since Castiel did not exactly hold back, but panted as though holding back a sob while he touched any part of Dean’s body he could reach. As it was, Dean knew it wasn’t Cas’ intention to molest him or make him uncomfortable: it was self-reassurance, pure and simple. Something Dean understood instinctively, had needed more than enough times himself. Which was why he didn’t shy away or tell Castiel to stop. No, instead, he relaxed himself into his hold, and nuzzled back against his head.

“This what all of this is about, Cas?” Dean asked in a hoarse whisper. “You feel bad about not being able to mojo it all better anymore?” He could have probably been more precise in his words by asking if he felt bad about not being an angel anymore, but as much would have been understood; he did not mean to hurt Castiel any more than he already was hurting.

“I feel bad about seeing you like that,” Castiel deflected. Then, “I was scared when seeing you like that. Scared of losing you. And of being helpless to prevent it.”

There was a sudden lump in Dean’s throat. “You didn’t lose me, though. And you did prevent it.”

“Had I arrived even one moment later, Dean,” Castiel objected, pain thickening his voice, “then you would’ve lost an arm or two, or even your life. And I could not have healed you, restored your body. You might’ve died, Dean, and there would’ve been nothing I--”

That was about as far as he got because with a press of his lips, Dean cut him right off. Despite the shocked little noise that Castiel let out, he kissed back right away, his hand returning to angle Dean’s head to kiss him deeper, taste him wholly. 

It was Dean’s turn to be surprised when he felt Castiel’s tongue and lips immediately claim him that way, without any hesitation.

By the time they broke apart, both panting and staring at each other in the dimness, Dean had ended up with his back on the bed, Castiel hovering over him. 

“Don’t--,” Dean pressed out through heavy breaths, “don’t be a child, Cas. You didn’t come late -- in fact, you came at the exact right time to fucking save me. And you saved me with what you can do now, as a human, not as an angel. Without you, things might’ve gone downhill. Or they might’ve not. Who knows, maybe Sammy would’ve saved me.”

He could practically feel the frown above him.

“What I’m trying to say is: on a hunt, anything can happen. Might go good, and yeah, might go bad. It’s what we’re used to -- known all our lives. All we can do is give our best and hope it all pans out. And work with what we got. Same as you. Yeah, you can’t magically mojo all my injuries away, but you can kill any bitch with a blade like it’s nobody’s business. You’re quick and precise, and a damn asset to our hunts, if you ask me. And that’s what you should be focusing on. Thinking about the shoulda woulda coulda doesn’t help in any way -- think of what’s right in front of you, not what’s in the past or in the future. Ain’t nothing we can do anything about anyway. Well, not much, at least.”

Dean was proud of his little joke by the end there, but Castiel did not laugh. Did not even chuckle, that bastard. Instead, he made a contemplative noise as he listened and thought Dean’s words over again. 

“What’s right in front of me, huh?” Castiel reiterated thoughtfully, one of his thumbs tracing the line of Dean’s jaw and his lips.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the urge to kiss that teasing finger. “Not exactly what I meant, but yeah.”

“To me, that’s exactly what you meant,” Castiel said, with unprecedented lightness. “To not dwell on how badly you could’ve been hurt and how you screamed my name, but on how whole you are right now, how alive, thanks to me, and how much pleasure you could still receive.”

Dean was glad that Castiel could not possibly see how flaming his cheeks must have been. “That an offer, Cas?” His voice came out much lower than he had been going for, which however seemed well enough.“‘Cause lemme tell you, if it is, I wouldn’t mind showing my savior how thankful I am. How fucking alive.”

“It could be,” Castiel replied, his voice dipping in kind.

Which was an unexpected turn of events, if Dean had ever experienced one, and he had actually experienced many. But, true to his own words, he should focus on what was in front of him. What had, in fact, been in front of him for a whole damn while now, he had just been too chickenshit to reach out for it. 

Not anymore, though. Instead of drawing back and laughing it all off, diminishing the heat and warmth he felt for the weirdo on top of him, he laid a hand on Castiel’s cheek, let out a sigh, and pulled him back into another kiss.

[neakco]

Wait For It

AO3 Fanfiction.net

Inspired heavily by the song "Wait For It" by Leslie Odam Jr from Hamilton an American Musical.

Red Robin calls a meeting for the Justice League. Everyone is there except Red Robin. Instead one of the monitors flickers to life.

Brief mention of some past character deaths. Very mild violence.

The Justice League had gathered when Superman looked to Batman, “Red Robin called this meeting, since he isn’t here what's this about Batman?”

Before he could answer a screen flickered to life. The angle was strange and it took a few moments for them to realized that the camera was attached to a person.

The person wearing the camera appeared to be setting up a larger camera. A women's voice could be heard from off screen speaking in accented English.

“Are you sure this is a good plan Birdy?”

“I am just worried. What if Batman shows up to take you away?”

“Positive LB.” The voice of Red Robin answered.

There were a couple confused or shocked faces around but no one looked away.

“I have been gone over a month and no one has called or tried looking for me, I promise no one from the Justice League are going to interfere.”

Batman frowned, he was sure he had seen Just the other day. Had it really been a month.

Tim turned and they could see a women in red and spotted black spandex with a wide smile. “If he was too busy keeping Gotham in line to notice than he can keep Gotham, you're all mine Birdy.”

She came forward and the screen filled with red for a moment as she was too close to Tim for it to pick up images properly.

When she was fully in frame again had a look that she was heading to her death.

“This is the last fight LB, everything is set, we just need to wait for it.”

The women, LB, smiled nervously and spoke softly, “Si quelque chose m'arrive, sache que je t'aime.”

“Pareil ici LB. But nothing is going to happen, we planned this months ago. Now get in position, I will let you know when we are world wide.”

Batman was frowning harder at the screen. Tim had been in contact with this LB for months apparently. Did Alfred know?

He replaced the camera on his suit and started pressing keys rapidly, there wasn’t much for the league to see but when anyone tried to speak Wonder Women glared them down.

Red Robin appeared to sit down in a TV station’s control booth, but from what they could see an entire wall was missing. The camera moved suddenly and Red Robin's face came into view, his mask appeared slightly different than normal but it was clearly him.

“If any of the league interferes and ruins this plan then I will use any and all blackmail I have to ruin all of you. You are watching as witnesses only, don’t you dare forget it.”

Another monitor flickered to life. This one showed Paris, or what was left of Paris. Buildings were crumbling, the Eiffel Tower was on its side, dust filled the air and not a speck of movement could be seen. Then the camera changed to show the women in Red standing tall on a pile of rubble near the tower.

Batman was thankful, it meant he had time to think of the answers to questions he was sure they had.

“Okay LB, we are live in 3…2…1”

Someone let out a gasp, the women who had appeared okay before was now badly injured. One arm hung limp at her side, there was a long gash freely flowing from her shoulder, she was limping and a bruise was forming on one of her cheeks.

Yet she stood tall and proud as she addressed the camera in her accented English.

There was a gasp, though Batman couldn’t place it, he was too focused on the screen. How did no one notice this was happening? He had more questions then answers at this point.

“My name is Ladybug, I am one of Paris' heroes. Many that know of me will be able to tell you that I have been protecting Paris for ten years now with my partner Chat Noir. What many of you don’t know is that we were 13 when we were chosen. You don’t know that my father was a baker, my mother an amazing women that commanded respect with her very presence. They are both gone now, all I have is left is their legacy.” She gestures at the rubble with her good arm, “Thankfully they died in a fire so they never had to see me fail all of you so badly. There is some good news, the original villain, Hawkmoth, also died before this. The fire was devastating, it didn’t discriminate between the sinners and the innocent.”

Her look grew murderous, “But I live, like bread I rise. I refuse to break, even when all of my loved ones have died.”

The women, Ladybug, shifted painfully before smirking, “Despite all you have done and thrown at me I am still here. Try as you might you can not be me, I am I am inimitable, Paris's original hero.” She threw her good arm into the air, “Here I am Lila! My arm is broken, I can barely walk, so now is your chance coward! You have taken everything from me but my life and my pride. So here I stand, just as you asked.” She chuckled darkly, “I'm not even late. I am standing still, lying in wait. You take too long and blood loss will get to me long before you do Rossi.”

The camera changed to the wider view they saw at the beginning. Though now you could see the red that was Ladybug. You could also see a bright spot of purple making its way towards her through the rubble.

The camera switched to a third that was still zoomed out but now you could see that the person in purple moved like they knew they had won.

The villain began yelling in French. Thankfully Red Robin was typing out subtitles for the world with very little delay.

The members of the league were all tense, they didn’t like what they were seeing. Only a few were more relaxed, Red Robin had said there was a plan, surely he wouldn’t be idly sitting by if it was falling apart.

Ladybug laughed insanely drawing all attention back to the screen as she addressed the figure in purple.

“Is this what you wanted Lila? Countless dead, everything destroyed? All this, just to kill me because I asked you not to lie about me in front of a boy. So relentless.” The last part was barely audible.

“I worked hard to get this win. Paris is everything I deserve, it is my reward. All I need to do is take your earrings and then I can fix everything.”

“They won’t love you. Hawkmoth was bad, yes, but you raised the stakes. You chose to thrive off all this death and chaos.” Ladybug stood straighter with a wince and glared, “You, Lila Rossi, will never be a hero.”

The purple villain, Lila, finally stood before the weaponless and defeated Ladybug. The camera changed again so that everyone could now see what was happening with clarity.

“Now hand over your earrings and I may let you live.”

Red Robin was moving fast now, they could hear the grapple. Was this part of the plan or was everything falling apart enough that he was panicking and moving to save the women that loves him?

Ladybug laughed, “Is what you have left me with really living?”

“Fine, give me the earrings and I will kill you painlessly.”

When Ladybug didn’t move Lila backhanded her and sent her sprawling on the ground.

Batman was frowning at the monitor Something was odd.

“The earrings now!” Lila pulled a sword from what they thought was a cane, “Don’t make me take your ears too.”

“Cataclysm.” The pike of rubble they were standing on collapsed into dust at the exact moment a yoyo came and wrapped around Ladybug to prevent her from hitting the ground far below.

“Go ahead and try bitch.” Ladybug spat.

Batman’s eyes widened when he saw it, Ladybug wasn’t wearing any earrings.

Lila hit the ground hard and was pinned by some of the rocks that hadn’t dissolved. Two figures landed gracefully in front of her.

Ladybug no longer looked broken and bruised. Her black outfit was pristine and shone like scales in the sun as the light illuminated her. She had small cat ears and a more reptilian tail. Red Robin's outfit was similar to normal except it was subtlety spotted and he seemed to have gained a fox tail.

Through the main camera it looked like Lila was cowed but through Tim's camera they could see the raw hatred on the women's face.

“Congrats Lila.” Ladybug smiled, “They world now knows your name, just as you wanted.”

Red Robin approached and plucked a broach from her. A bright purple light engulfed her as she transformed into a regular women. “Enjoy your infamy in prison.”

“You think I am going to prison then you are delusional. I will be free in an hour.” The women spit as she slowly reached for something.

Ladybug kicked the downed women’s arm hard enough to break it. Tears in her eyes as she glared. “That was for unknowingly killing Chat Noir in one of your senseless fires. I should let the kwami curse you.”

Red Robin placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her the yoyo.

She shook her head and walked behind Lila as she started to take something out of a baton.

While they were focused on watching Ladybug they didn’t see what Red Robin had done but suddenly a white butterfly was taking off out if the yoyo. He threw it in the air, “Miraculous Ladybug.”

There was a light and magic swirled out from him. The Justice League watched in awe as buildings repaired themselves and people appeared uninjured in the streets.

Lila glared in shock as Ladybug zipped her arms together.

Red Robin laughed, “Did you really not notice us defeat your akuma?” he opened up the yoyo to briefly reveal a computer screen where he appeared to send something. “Police now have all the video evidence they need to keep you locked up for a long time Rossi.”

Ladybug used her baton while Red Robin used the yoyo as a grapple to land in front of the camera.

Batman tried to study the weapon. It had some sort of dimensional storage, a computer, and worked as a grapple. He refused to be jealous of his son.

Red Robin put his arm over Ladybug's shoulders as they smiled for the camera.

They spoke together, “We are proud to announce to the world that Paris is finally free of emotional terrorism. We thank you for bearing witness to this historical event.”

The livestream ended but Red Robin's camera was still going for the Justice League. He removed it and turned it so they were both in the shot.

Ladybug smiled, “Hello Justice League, I assume you are familiar with my partner.”

He laughed as he looked to her, “You assume they are intelligent, the costume change may throw them off too much.”

“On topic Renard Tacheté.”

“Right, sorry Arassas.” He turned back to the camera, the soft look evaporating to a harsher one. “Don’t know if you dense lot noticed, but Paris is under our protection. So no one from the league is allowed to operate here without our permission.”

Ladybug smiled not unkindly, “If you do find yourselves needing any help though all you have to do is ask.”

The video feed ended eruptly and left the Justice League staring at empty screens. After a moment of silence everyone started to yell questions or try to find answers on there own. Batman felt a headache coming on as he tried to answer questions he didn’t know the answer to.

During the chaos Diana smiled to herself and waved to Batman as she walked out. She didn’t need answers. After all, she was the one that had given Ladybug Tim's number.

Supossed translations according to google:

Pareil ici LB - Same here LB

Si quelque chose m'arrive, sache que je t'aime. -

If something happens to me know that I love you

Renard Tacheté - Spotted Fox

Arassas - mythical reptilian cat

[ahhhhhhdonna]

Summary: I really just wanted to write Jaskier getting locked up in a pillory!  Like this one:

And then this Yen and Jaskier fic just happened.(Warning for swearing, if that’s not your jam.)  Is there more to this? I don’t know.  For now, though, this:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

High heeled shoes walked into his line of vision; beautiful, impeccable, without a single speck of road mud on them.  The hemline of a black dress in some expensive fabric.  Silk, maybe.  Or satin? Organza... If that was a fabric.  Didn't really matter, he thought miserably. What mattered was the insidious owner of said shoes and fancy dress was standing close enough he could feel the chill of her shadow and smell her perfume.

Somewhere above him, she laughed. Not a demure lady-like chuckle either, oh no, a real belly laugh.  Downright rude, if you asked him. He straightened up, as much as he could straighten while being locked rather piteously in a pillory.  

“You know, I was beginning to think this day couldn't get any better,” Jaskier said, amicably, “and yet...ahh, here you are.”

“Oh, Jaskier,” she said, with that tell-tale edge of sarcastic delight. It felt on his ear like a finger-nail catching in a pill on a silk coat.  “How did you get yourself into this little predicament?  Did you get caught fucking the alderman's wife this time?  Or, oh dear... did she catch you with the alderman? I know you aren't terribly...discerning when it comes to your pitiful little conquests.”

Jaskier's mouth opened with a huff before he snapped it closed, unsure which bit was more offensive.  

“I...I'm- I am discerning,” he managed, “and for your information, Yennefer, none of my...my conquests- as you so charmingly put it- would consider the encounter pitiful in the slightest....not that you will ever know...you...you could be the last woman alive, and I promise I would rather put my-”

“If your usual debauchery didn't land you here,” Yennefer cut him off, the smile still in her voice, “then what else would warrant such a public shaming? Was it your big mouth?”

He sniffed and went silent, fuming. He heard her long lacquered nails ticking on the wooden slat above his head.  One lovely shoe tapped impatiently.

“Well,” she said, after it was clear Jaskier wasn't going to be forthcoming, “whatever it was you did, I'm sure the punishment is well deserved... However, I do find it hard to believe Geralt would have allowed them to put you in the stocks.  He has a soft spot for your antics, no matter how stupid.  So, where is our witcher?”

Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Jaskier immediately thought but didn't say. Regardless of what Yennefer thought, he wasn't that stupid.

“Our witcher is not here,” Jaskier ground out, instead.  “He's on a hunt.  He picked up a contract here.  Actually, he's...well, he's... he’s missing.”

The tapping of nails stilled.  

“Oh, it's not like you're going to help,” Jaskier spat, “so why even bother?  Why don't you just portal off somewhere else and leave me alone?”

“Jaskier.” Her voice was quieter but impossibly more dangerous. “Geralt is missing?”

“He's...more late, really,” Jaskier said.  “He was due back three days ago.  I tried to tell the good alderman that monster hunting is not an exact art,  but...it was quite a well-paying contract, and Geralt was given half up front...and the alderman thinks Geralt has just taken off with the gold.  So--”

He waggled his hands in the holes beside his head.

“--they decided that since they can't punish Geralt for the alleged thievery, why not punish his faithful companion instead?  They locked me up this morning and I'm to be kept to the pillory until Geralt eventually returns or... or they tire of all of this, or I die, I guess.  I don't know.  On orders of the alderman.”

He swallowed.

“I'm rather...worried about Geralt, actually.  He's fine, I'm sure, he's always fine but it's not like him to-”

“-He'll return,” Yennefer said, decisively.  “In the mean time, I could free you but far be it from me to interfere with local politics...  I think it would be rather more interesting to see this sort itself out, don't you?”

“I knew it,” Jaskier muttered.  “I knew it!  Why did I even bother?..”

“I’d best be going,” she said, and he could hear her infuriating smile again, “Lovely chat, dear. But It does looks like it might rain.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yennefer listened to the rain pounding on the inn roof that night as she sat by the fire and drank mulled wine.  She tried to think of Jaskier and glean some satisfaction for his suffering but now, as the wind howled a bit in the rafters and the night's chill crept in, she frowned into the depths of her cup.

He was only human, after all.  A weak, stupid, annoying human, to be sure, who prattled on and on and wrote nasty songs about her and pretended they weren't about her when they clearly were. But...Three days late, he'd said. And Jaskier-for all his glaring and numerous faults- did harbor a deep and unyielding love for their witcher.  Her witcher, she thought, unbidden, and drank.

It had been a surprise when she had come into this blighted town and saw the familiar bard clamped into the stocks in the town square.  Another strange coincidence. Since their fateful and brief meeting in Rinde, she had run into Geralt on two separate occasions and now this... She had only come here to provide a service, a round of cures and magical remedies, to fill her purse for another dose of that probably useless fertility treatment with the cost of it ever increasing.  It was better to keep moving to different towns, she found, some were more friendly to magic than others. 

A town that treated friends of witchers so poorly might not have a high appreciation of mages either.  Best to move on, she decided.  In the morning then.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Yennefer cursed herself as her legs led her back to the town square, her velvet cloak enchanted to keep her dry as the rain continued pouring down and the mud pooled around her boots.

Jaskier was soaked to the bone and looking twice as pitiful as ever, bent as he was and trembling with cold.  When she approached, he contorted his neck to do his best to look at her, squinting and sniffling.  He looked as pale and red-eyed as a wet white rabbit.  

“Yennefer...I, uh, to... to what do I owe this... odious pleasure?”

Ah, he had been crying then.  It wasn't just the rain.  She bit back the worst of her responses- a decided act of charity, if there ever was one- and went straight to the point.

“What was he hunting then, bard?”

Jaskier blinked at her with swollen eyes. He certainly seemed no longer up to their usual verbal sparring and she was glad to not waste time.

“The alderman didn't know what it was, just that it smelled terrible and was killing villagers who wandered too far into the woods.  Geralt thought it was a rotfiend.  Should just take a day, he said, maybe two if it was hiding...”

“And it's been five,” Yennefer mused. Yes, Geralt should have been able to handle a single rotfiend in a leisurely afternoon.  And while the man could certainly be accused of moving on without saying good-bye, he would have at least returned for the payment.  Priorities, she thought, wryly.

“Nearly six,” Jaskier said and then his teeth chattered loudly enough that Yennefer could hear it over the din of the rain, like a tin cup full of dice. He once again tried to look at her, lifting his head an uncomfortable angle.  

“...Are you going to go looking for him?  Please.  Please, please tell me you're going to go looking for him. Please. If he's hurt, only you can...If anyone can find him, it's you, Yen, it’s you....”

“I'll look for him,” Yennefer said and watched the bard sag against the restraints with relief.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, in a voice soft enough that she was sure she wasn't meant to hear it.  She was sure he expected her to leave him there and, oh gods, did she want to.  Especially after his last ballad about the 'violet eyed siren of Vengerberg, with generous bust, who eats men's hearts for sport and lust'--  Ugh!  He deserved to stay here in the stocks, all ruined silk and wet lace and aching back! It might humble him and he certainly needed some humbling for all his lyric writing to the contrary.

But... Geralt would not forgive her easily if she left his companion to starve or freeze in the stocks and, fuck, if the thought of his disapproval didn't strike an irritating chord inside her. And if she was somewhat swayed by the bard's sudden spell of repentant gratitude, well...he'd never have to know it.  Bound and begging was surprisingly a good look for him, she thought.  And she was feeling absurdly generous this morning, so...

Yennefer made a little gesture and the thick padlock on the pillory unlocked itself and fell to the ground with a thud.  Jaskier startled and gaped at the fallen lock.

“You...you just...?”

“Come on, then, and don't make me regret it, Jaskier,” she said, in a tone she hoped implied that she already did.  “Lead the way.”