#and the song ends there the rest of it doesnt exist god it really does suck | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

funkzpiel · 5 years ago

Note

Another consideration (sorry) is if Jaskier did lose his voice permanently from the Jinn and Geralt feels guilty and doesnt stop trying to find a cure even though he knows there isnt one (or lies to Jaskier that he's trying to find one til Jaskier finds out)

He doesn’t sing again. That prickly part of Geralt that’s been traveling alone for most of his life gruffly thought he’d enjoy that result. After all, he did his level best to have the issue resolved. It wasn’t his fault that the bard got involved. He hadn’t invited him along – he had just wanted to fucking sleep for fucking once in his life, damn it. It had been his wish though, however unintentional, that brought the bard into this new life, this silent existence. A world without Jaskier’s singing.

It is like biting into a pie only to find it has no filling.

Those words haunt him in the lingering silence of Jaskier’s presence. They hang between him and the bard as heavily as any wraith might – leeching him just as much as actual conversations exhausted him. Jaskier, like the birds of the woods, was born to sing and talk and fill the world with the litany of his voice and his perspective and his life; and Geralt had taken part in shattering him.

Yennefer had, in her way, tried to heal him. They had released the Djinn – much to the mage’s dismay – and that should have been the end of it. Jaskier’s swelling went down, his bleeding stopped.

But when he opened his mouth to greet Geralt when finally he woke, nothing more than a wheeze passed his lips. In that moment, the witcher watched a part of Jaskier die. He saw it in the bard’s eyes – a small bit of the light that constantly filled him fading away like a cloud passing over the sun.

Jaskier stayed with him. Geralt doesn’t understand why. It was his fault, his words, his hasty and ill thought out wish that had crushed the bard’s vocal cords to dust. Jaskier should hate him, and yet he stayed. Geralt thought pragmatically that it was because alone, Jaskier would struggle. He was a man who had independently crafted a life and a career for himself off his voice, and now that was gone. He had his fingers, his lute, of course – but drunken pub-goers relished the bard’s songs, his lyrics, and with nothing to sing along to, it left Jaskier’s lute playing, while lovely, pale and hollow by comparison to what patrons expected to hear when they recognized who he was.

Geralt did that to him. So it was the least he could do to keep Jaskier by his side. To provide a safe place for the bard to sleep, coin for him to eat. And that must be why he stayed, he reasoned. Why else?

As they passed through villages, he asked for healers, for mages – anyone who might have insight into the bard’s situation. He even began to direct their travels in the direction of famous herbalists or sorcerers (or sometimes even creatures), all without ever making it plain, just in case they might stumble upon someone who might have a cure.

‘Sorry’ hung heavy on his heart, weighing it down between his ribs, pressing in on his lungs, strangling him. He spent his nights, already so prone to sleeplessness, on his back and staring up at the sky as though the stars might suddenly align and spell out the answers he sought. His eyes drifted to Jaskier, curled by the fire. Small and quiet. So fucking quiet.

Geralt was really beginning to fucking detest the quiet.

It made him admire Jaskier’s penchant for conjuring a conversation seemingly out of nowhere; particularly when he began to try and solve this problem of too much fucking quiet by doing what Jaskier could not: talking.

“Pleasant day,” he growled one morning, eyes on the meal he stoked above the fire as Jaskier silently worked on lacing up his clothing. Blue eyes sought him out over the fire. He could feel the weight of them, the surprise. But what else was there to say? His words had been efficient. The day was pleasant. What should he say next? Describe the color of the sky? Foolish.

He grit his teeth, hating himself for his blatant inability to provide even so much comfort as this. But he keeps trying. He practices. Only because when he does, Jaskier’s gaze falls to him – keen in a way those blue eyes had not been in some time since the silence started – and for a moment he feels as though his bard has returned again.

Jaskier, for his part, does not simply melt back into the stone of a garden wall like a shrinking violet. His voice was not what made him so lively, so vibrant; it was a side effect of all the life and sunlight and existence that the gods had seen fight to cram into a body as lithe as Jaskier. He learned how to speak with his hands and Geralt, a man who had only spoken through body language for so long, found it easy to listen. It was an act of communication that drew no end of curious looks when they went to villages. How could two men speak so silently? Some even began to suspect Jaskier was a familiar of Geralt’s – which made the bard wheeze silently, laughing.

Geralt couldn’t even be annoyed by that. It was good to see the bard laugh.

Jaskier’s hands grew more and more fluent as they travelled until he learned how to fill the silence in an entirely new way. And if Geralt’s attention were distracted, his eyes not on the bard, Jaskier found ways to grab his attention. A pebble to the shoulder, if annoyed. A hand to his side, to the small of his back, to his bicep if not.

But still, Geralt looked for a cure. He did not ask for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it – not while Jaskier was still unable to say the words to pardon him for his wish. Wishes. How Geralt hated them, hated the word. His wish had driven Yennefer away. His wish had bound Jaskier to a life in which he could not do what he loved. Geralt didn’t deserve forgiveness. So he did not ask.

And then came the contract about the witches of the bog.

Ancient hags. Magical ladies. So old that Geralt wasn’t even sure if the word ‘witch’ truly befitted them anymore. He didn’t even know what to call them, what to research in his bestiary. Three witches of the bog. Complicated and powerful, hand in hand. Some of the village worshipped them. They kept the forest rich with game. They protected birthing mothers. They warded off those from foreign lands that might colonize their home, change it, urbanize it. It left the area like a capsule from another time; perfectly preserved.

Others hated them. Virgins tended to disappear now and then. Children too. Livestock would die, men would suddenly fall dead. Believers called it penance, divine and unknowable justice for deeds the public might never see or fathom. Nonbelievers called it terrorism at the hands of monsters. Geralt found himself stuck in the middle.

He insisted Jaskier stay in the village. This was beyond even his expertise. Even with normal monsters there was always the chance that he might fail, not protect Jaskier, however slim. Now? He would not tell Jaskier that he had a healthy fear for what laid ahead, but he made it known that for no reason should the bard follow him this time.

He approached the bog with his swords on his back but his hands nowhere near their hilts. Women as old as these, there was a chance he might be able to reason with them. Negotiate.

There was just as big as chance that he might offend them by trying.

His heart thumped in his chest as he kneeled in a dry spot in the bog. He set out the offerings the believers told him would attract the witches to him. He rested his hands on his thighs. Closed his eyes.

“Bog women,” he said, calling to them in a hushed, croaking voice, “Ladies of the North, Winter Women… I have no request but to parlay with you. I humble myself, I kneel, knowing I don’t deserve an audience. Would you speak with me?”

At first there was nothing. He wondered if the believers had lied, if the nonbelievers were far more stable by comparison. He was just about to stand, to leave, when a wind brushed the faint hairs not held back by his hair tie to wisp about his face. The willows around him swirled and sang a sorrowful tune. The fine hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms rose.

“What is a boy’s name?” A witch sung to him. A boy. Despite his years, he felt very much like a boy kneeling at the feet of those women.

He nearly responded. Nearly. But there was power in a name for folk such as them.

“You may call me witcher,” he said instead, careful in his wording. Another witch laughed, delighted.

“Clever witcher-boy,” the laughing witch chirped, stepping out of the fog. She was lovely. Her red hair hung down to her bottom. Her face was round like a peach, her cheeks pink like one too. She wore a gown unlike one he had ever seen before. She looked kind, her smile pleasant, but her eyes – if he looked too long, he could see the predatory glint in those eyes. Her glamor blurred around the edges and if he peered too closely, he could almost see—

His pupils dilated, huge and blown out as he tried to make sense of what he saw. Limbs, so many limbs. A body distorted with tumors; or what he thought might be tumors, but perhaps just did not know the right word for them. Too many mouths, eyes, faces. The punishing visage of those warped by black magic or simply the form of a god not meant to be seen or understood by mortal men? He didn’t know, but he did register something wet beneath his nose. Hot and dripping. His heart thundered. He wondered if it might burst when finally another woman came up behind him, bent over him, and gently rested a hand over his eyes.

“A strong boy with keen eyes,” the woman behind him hummed, “Few have seen past our glamor. Fewer still remained sane enough to tell the tale.”

The first witch cackled, having appeared from the fog as well, and sneered, “You steal our fun,” then said a name that made Geralt’s lashes flutter sickly. The name sounded more like the mad tumble of rocks down a mountain side that any human word. His stomach lurched. He was so fucked. “I wished to see how far a witcher-boy’s mind might bend.”

“A boy came to us in good faith,” the witch whose name sounded like falling rocks said. Her voice sounded like the voice of many women, but also, one woman. His mother. He wondered if that was part of the glamor as well. If that magic was seeping into his mind, collecting fragments and details that might sooth him, lure him into a false sense of security.

Too bad it was the voice of the woman who had abandoned him. It only served to wake him up.

He decided to call that woman Earth Mother. The name pinged something familiar in the far recesses of his mind.

“Laws of matronhood,” said the second to the first, naming her as well. He gritted his teeth against the sound of it – glass shattering, wolves howling. It made his muscles tense, ready to flee the jaws of a wolf. When the feeling passed, a human name appeared in his mind seemingly from nowhere: Beast Mother.

“Aye, I know the laws,” said the Beast Mother, then a final name. Geralt’s stomach dropped sickly like missing a step on a staircase. This name sounded like the wind – both tame as the first warmth of spring thaws the fields, and wild like the storm that punishes a village. Sky Mother, his mind supplied.

Geralt bowed his head as those final, hind-brain instincts washed over him and eventually dulled. He felt suddenly exhausted. Word thin by the mere presence of these women.

“What does a witcher-boy call to women such as we for?” Asked the Sky Mother.

“Does a witcher-boy come to kill us?” Laughed the Beast Mother cruelly, and even with the third woman’s hand over his eyes – cool and soothing and dark – Geralt knew the Beast Mother was grinning with too many predatory teeth. More teeth than any human mouth should have. Teeth and teeth and teeth—

“The village placed a contract on you,” Geralt forced himself to say. “But I’m quickly realizing this is no monster hunt.”

He was in the presence of gods, or at least as close to gods as reality might ever get. Every story, every religion, stemmed from something after all. These land spirits, these witches, these women – they were so much more than a contract to be hunted. They owned the land, the wood, the swamp, and all inside it. Fuck.

“If you know this, then why come?” The Earth Mother asked gently.

“Some of the villagers are suffering,” Geralt explained, “I’m here to help. To parlay.”

“Life is to suffer,” laughed the Beast Mother cruelly.

The Sky Mother said instead, “And what can a witcher-boy offer us? How can a witcher-boy help?”

The Earth Mother was against his back, matronly and kind. He felt like a boy hiding behind a mother’s skirts – or more accurately Vesemir’s legs. It felt both nostalgic and sickening at the same time, his mind peeled apart like an onion so easily in their presence.

“I am nothing and no one to you Mothers,” Geralt acknowledged, “But I cannot turn my back on suffering. If I do so here, I have no right to my namesake.”

“A witcher-boy wanted to be a hero,” cackled the Beast Mother, fangs gleaming in his mind’s eyes, pearly and wet with hungry spittle.

“A witcher-boy is kind,” whispered the Mother blinding him with her mercy, her hand.

“A witcher-boy is doomed,” offered the Sky Mother clinically, but not dispassionately.

“What did the village ask?” The Beast Mother spat, “Did they whine about their lost babes? Their disappeared virgins? Their dead men? Their cows?”

“The milk had spoiled in their udders, so we killed them,” the Sky Mother said simply.

“The men had raped and stolen and marred the virtue of our lands, so we removed them from the grace of our hospitality,” the Beast Mother growled.

“The virgins sought escape from abusive homes, sought freedom and peace, so we guided them to happier places,” the Earth Mother hummed.

“And the babes would have died a painful death from winter, from illness, from genetic deficiencies – so we lured them to that better place in peace instead,” the Sky Mother finished.

“Life is cruel,” the Beast Mother growled like the sound of hooves on earth, pounding in chase after the fox, “But we are not. A witcher-boy cannot fathom our motives, so we pardon him once, but question our intentions again and a witcher-boy will understand punishment for himself.”

Geralt bowed his head intentionally this time, hands in tight, humbled fists on his knees.

“Apologies, Mothers, I knew not what to expect.”

“As we said, a witcher-boy is pardoned,” the Sky Mother said simply.

“We know a witcher-boy,” the Earth Mother sang behind him, her voice the laughter of a babe’s first smile, the song of a mother kneading dough in the morning. “A witcher-boy withholds his name, but we know him.”

“White. Wolf.” The Beast Mother is grinning with too many hungry teeth again. Geralt shivered.

“You helped a Godling not far from here,” says one.

“Spared a group of trolls in the eastern mountains,” says another.

“Helped a succubus escape the fires of the cities and the purge of daft men who put their faith in nonsense,” says the last.

“The list is long,” the Earth Mother says, her other hand stroking through his hair now. She’s untied it, let it fall loose around his ears. She tsks and says, “At least a witcher-boy tried to bathe for us. You need fine oils for hair such as this.”

He feels disoriented, exposed. Unsure of his footing.

“I will explain to the village—” he begins, but clicks his jaw shut audibly when the Beast Mother howls, “We were not done, witcher-boy!”

He swallows dryly. His very bones shiver. The Earth Mother shushes his fears and continues to pet him like a dumb, beloved dog warming her feet. It feels… nice. He has to shake his mind awake not to fall for that glamor, that lulling sense of safety. There is no safety. Safe is an illusion.

“Clever witcher-boy,” the Earth Mother says proudly, fondly.

“You’ve helped people and creature alike on our land,” the Sky Mother said.

“But you’ve also taken justice into your hands, as if we were not suitable to maintain it,” snarled the Beast Mother.

“What are three Mothers to do with their witcher-boy, their kind hearted wolf, their man of stone?”

They might kill him. They were not wrong, he had taken their affairs into his own hands unknowingly when fulfilling contracts in these lands. If their territory extended as far as he thought it did, he had only done so twice perhaps. Maybe thrice. A werewolf that had gone mad, slaughter their family. A cockatrice that had been spoiling the hunt for another township, killing the best of their providers. A wraith left behind by a widow spurned.

“We would have gotten to them in our own time,” the Beast Mother said, answering his unspoken question of why, if they protected these lands, had they not handled it?

“Or perhaps we did handle it in our own right,” the Earth Mother offered with a chuckle. Working through him, he realized. A pawn in their ways just as he was a pawn to fate. He shuddered helplessly, a little flame of offense rising in his gut as it always did at the concept of ‘fate’. She brushed his hair back in apology, stroked his cheek. “You need a shave.”

Disoriented didn’t begin to cover it.

“Spoil sport,” the Beast Mother snorted. So that had been it, then. He had acted as unwitting representative for them and their will.

“You are a trustworthy wolf,” the Sky Mother said, “Good in intention, civil in mercy.”

“You will go to the village,” the Earth Mother continued. “You will explain the way of things. Those who cannot abide by those ways can flee freely or be dealt with accordingly… They will not pay you, witcher-boy. Their hearts are selfish and easy to see reason why they should keep their coin despite your bravery, despite how you put yourself between we women and their cowardly souls.”

“For this, for the works you’ve already done unintentionally in our name and for the works you will later do intentionally in our name, we women shall pay you instead.”

He stiffened. Every bone locked in his body like rusted hinges on a door, painful and tight. That was a dangerous offer. He could not deny it and live. But one wrong word would spell a world of pain unending. He swallowed.

“You are too kind to someone as undeserving as me,” he managed to croak.

The Beast Mother laughed cruel and amused, high like a harpy’s screech and low like a bear’s roar. He shuddered visibly. The Earth Mother smoothed down the hackles that rose on the back of his neck like a master calming a spooked dog.

“Correct, we are too kind. Wise of you to notice,” the Beast Mother said.

“What does a witcher-boy want?” The Sky Mother asked.

Geralt clenched his jaw, feeling more like a mouse caught between a cat’s paws than a witcher. It was an uncomfortable, greasy feeling, and he hated it.

“I require nothing –”

“—Ha! A man says he requires nothing from gods!” The Beast Mother howled like a pack of wolves.

“You would spit in our eye and refuse our gift?” The Sky Mother asked diplomatically.

“Do not let them frighten you, witcher-boy,” the Earth Mother hummed, stroking his hair again. “We Mothers are unused to debt.”

He could ask for a token from them; small enough so as not to ask too much, but enough to appease their debt. He could ask for some tidbit of knowledge; the location of a cache in their lands, perhaps. He could ask for hospitality in their woods; safety and peace whenever he visited. But as their champion, which he was quickly coming to find that he was unknowingly, he inherently knew he need not ask for any of this. They had always provided for him, had always shown him the way. He never went hungry or thirsty in these woods. The birds called when anything deigned attack him, warning him. He slept here. To ask for what they already provided would be turning a blind eye onto their gifts – a dangerous thing.

He should find something else – something small, something humble. And yet…

“My friend… what would it cost for you to heal him?” Geralt finally asked.

“Aaah,” the Beast Mother crooned, “A witcher-boy does not love silence after all.”

“A witcher-boy did not know what he had until it was gone,” the Earth Mother said, her voice if possible even more fond.

“Witcher-boys tend to be clever, and yet dumb as rock trolls,” the Sky Mother said blandly.

“Please,” Geralt said, leaning into the cradle of the Earth Mother’s hand which blinded him, protected him. She hummed soothingly behind him.

“We women are powerful and old. We saw the mountains form and the rivers fill. We were there for the first storm, the first wind that graced the ground, the first sprig of grass, the birth of the first land beast,” said the Sky Mother.

“But alas, this boon you ask for is not as simple as you think,” the Earth Mother said sadly.

He nearly asked ‘so you can’t help’ before he caught his tongue. What a stupid way to die, offending gods. The Beast Mother cackled. She knew what he had almost asked.

“It is not that we are not capable. You ask for something more than what we owe,” the Beast Mother said, fangs glinting, her words the framework of a hungry maw in his mind’s eye, waiting for an excuse to eat him. A merry chase, a dangerous game. It thrilled her to chase him like a rabbit through their laws and customs and loopholes, waiting for him to trip and yet hoping he might not so the game would continue. “And you cannot afford a cure outright.”

“What is the cost of an outright cure?” He asked. He had to know. Maybe he could—

“Souls. Innocent souls. Blood. Flesh. Creation and death. You request to overwrite a Djinn’s will, witcher-boy. That sort of magic by human means, by the means in which you could pay us, would change you fundamentally. You’d no longer be worthy as champion of our will. We have no intention of warping a witcher-boy and losing a pawn such as yourself. Too dull, too boring. Too simple. A witcher-boy offends.”

He hung his head again. His debt to his friend was more expensive than his morality, the makeup of his being, than his use to the world and to these witches, these gods. His stomach became a stone inside him. There was no outright cure…

His head rose a little.

“What cost for his voice?” He asked. Not a cure. A voice. The Earth Mother stroked him approvingly. The Beast Mother smiled with impressed fangs. The Sky Mother considered him.

“A steep price,” the Sky Mother said, like spring rain.

“A generous price,” snorted the Beast Mother, like boars stomping in the brush.

“A fair price,” hummed the Earth Mother, like the sound of a gentle hands guiding a plant into fresh soil.

“Name it,” Geralt said, something unidentifiable to his knowledge of himself in the edges of the words, though he recognized it in others. Pleading.

They named it.

He agreed.

“But first,” said the women with too many voices, “What is a witcher-boy’s name?”

They already knew it. Geralt knew that they did. But he hadn’t given it to them. There was power in giving a name.

Geralt paid.

–

He returned to town feeling exhausted, hollowed out and reed-thin, and yet he held the light of dawn in his chest, weightless and hopeful. He carried it with him over the hall and down the path that led to the village, leaving behind him his Ladies and the offerings he had placed on their humble altar.

He followed their instructions precisely.

He went first to the village alderman – a believer – and the man who had posted the notice – a nonbeliever. He explained that this village was not in fact their home, but the home of the women, and it was by their mercy that their crops flourished and their lives went by in relative peace. When the nonbeliever questioned him, cheeks red with rage that Geralt had not done as he was tasked, Geralt merely offered precisely what the women had told him to say.

“If you do not like living in the lands of the Ladies, you are free to relocate somewhere with no matronage. But if you stay and presume to keep calling the lands your own, and living outside the laws of matron and guest, there’s nothing I can do to spare you from them. This was their land first. They’ve upheld every law, provided every mercy. Live by their terms, live somewhere else, or find out for yourself why men have disappeared from among you by becoming another face on a flier.”

They had bid him not over explain. There was no faith to be had otherwise, no trust, and the Ladies asked for little more than that from their guests. To explain would be to condemn these villages to eviction. So he left the nonbelievers’ fate to themselves. Heed, flee or perish.

They didn’t pay him, just as the women had warned. The nonbelievers accused him of solving nothing. They called him a charlatan and a cheat. The believers claimed that they had not asked for help in the first place – and honestly, that was fair.

He didn’t need their payment anyways, not now. He would not go hungry or thirsty while in their wood. They’d tide him over until he left their lands in pursuit of his next contract. That was more than enough.

He brushed off their accusations, their thanklessness, like kicking dirt from his shoes. He wondered if that was what endeared him to the Ladies, or at least part of it – for both he and the god women understood thanklessness despite service.

He went to the inn, carried himself up to the room he had left Jaskier in. He could hear his lute from halfway up the stairs. It was a pleasing sound, something cheerful to wake to – it’d have to be, not to received complaints from other patrons also guesting at the inn.

The moment he walked in, he found Jaskier seated on the window sill, face to the early morning sun like a plant soaking in daylight as he played with mindlessly fluent fingers. Geralt leaned against the doorframe and enjoyed watching the dance of those fingers over the strings, plucking, always searching for the next note. He let himself bask in that moment, in the portrait of his bard in peaceful domesticity. Then, knowing the Ladies would not wait forever, rapped two knuckles against the doorframe, drawing Jaskier’s attention.

The bard let his song lull to a stop, his face lighting up at the sight of him returned unharmed. There was relief there, plain and naked as Jaskier was in most ways; unabashed and quick to feel, to express. He set his lute aside with the same sort of care that Geralt might give one of his swords and immediately his hands went into action, his whole body speaking to Geralt as easily as he once did with words.

Well, what happened, don’t keep me waiting? Were they in fact witches or something more nefarious? Well? Come on, Geralt, these stories don’t write themselves!

He smiled. There was a weight in his chest he hadn’t realized he had been carrying until now as it slowly lifted, so close to resolution as he was. He stepped forward without a word, amber eyes locked on his bard, his traveling companion, his friend, his partner. It drew Jaskier’s hand to a stuttering motion not unlike ‘um’ or ‘uh’ or ‘what’s going on?’.

“Months ago, I stole your voice from you,” Geralt finally said, standing in front of the bard, close enough to touch him – but not yet. A puzzled look spread across Jaskier’s face.

I don’t understand.

“I wished for peace not knowing I already had something better. Already had peace in my hands. I was just to blind to comfort, to kindness, to know that I had it.”

Jaskier gave him a baffled look that both said ‘well aren’t you chatty today?’ and ‘who are you and what did you do with my witcher?’

Geralt did not know this language, this new tongue he was trying to learn: intimacy, apology, love. He reached to cup Jaskier’s jaw and paused nearly there feeling foolish, blushing, because words and intimate touches had never been a language of his. It felt foreign. Like a crude imitation, rusty and weak for what he was trying to convey. But Jaskier just watched him patiently, brows drawn into a curious frown as he met him halfway and nestled his jaw into his calloused hand.

‘Geralt?’

He brushed a thumb over Jaskier’s smooth jaw, freshly shaven and smelling of sweet oil. Memorized the lines of Jaskier’s face, the soundless paragraphs of his expression, and tucked it away in his mind for later.

“I am sorry knowing me left you silent,” he finally said, croaked, hushed, admitted.

Jaskier’s brows drew tight, his mouth a strange line. He shook his head.

“I understand if you cannot forgive me,” Geralt looked away. “I should have apologized the morning you first could not speak, but it felt wrong to ask when you could not answer. But now… Do you trust me, Jaskier?”

There was still that expression – anger, grief, confusion, all deserved. He’d leave him after this, no doubt. Geralt had pushed too far, presumed too much. But he pressed on. He had to see this through. Then he’d let Jaskier return to his normal life. Let him make his choice. Set him free.

He thought he heard a womanly sigh.

Jaskier’s hand came up to cradle Geralt’s on his jaw. In his touch and in his face, Geralt heard him: Of course I trust you, you daft excuse for a witcher.

Do or die.

He leaned down. Watched as Jaskier’s eyes widened. Watched until he was too close to see anymore. Got closer until their lips brushed – his so chapped against the bard’s meticulously cared for lips, soft and pleasant. The bard felt like a canary in his hands, all fluttering energy; fragile with hollow bones, more melody than flesh. He pressed, then swiped a tongue across trembling lips to ask permission.

Jaskier let him in. He sealed their lips together. Let his hand move from the man’s jaw to cup the back of his neck, crush him close without actually crushing him. Then he felt it. It began in his throat, behind his Adam’s Apple, and slowly crawled up – warm, not unpleasant but certainly not normal. It rose. When it met his tongue it tasted of night and bestiaries; earthy and deep. His voice. It passed by his teeth, slipped through their lips, then felt Jaskier jump in his hands. He leapt as though stung, or perhaps shocked like walking with socked feet and touching a door knob – surprising, sharp and fleeting. Then settled in his hands.

Geralt pulled away to mumble three words against Jaskier’s slack mouth, his own stomach twisting when no words actually bloomed despite his tongue and mouth doing what needed to be done to make words. He was mute. It had worked. The price had been paid.

He should have said it before he lost the chance to, and yet, there was a pathetic sort of comfort in murmuring the words soundlessly against Jaskier’s lips instead – like hiding behind a mask, bold because he could do so secretly.

Jaskier pulled away, speaking on instinct out of shock, “Geralt, what’s wrong with you—” then he stilled, eyes owlish. His hands shot to his throat. Patted and fluttered and searched for something that might give away what was going on.

Geralt smiled. His throat vibrated as it would if he had chuckled, but no sound followed.

“My voice,” Jaskier croaked, pale from shock and relief and all manner of emotions he wore as plainly on his face as he did his clothes. “How?”

Geralt felt relief bloom in his own belly: that weight lifting fully now that he had made amends, had fixed his wrongs. Relief that Jaskier’s voice was his own and not Geralt’s because that was a level of weird even the witcher couldn’t handle. He tapped his own throat with his fingers and looked at Jaskier pointedly.

Color leeched from the bard’s skin.

“You gave me yours?”

Geralt nodded, then blinked – confused – when Jaskier suddenly sprung to his feet, all pent-up nervous energy, and slapped faintly at Geralt’s chest with a sharp, “Take it back!”

Geralt’s brows drew tight, his lips pursed, utterly baffled.

“You lummox! Don’t you give me that look! You can’t—I can’t—this is too much!”

Geralt shook his head.

‘I had to make it right’ he said, using his hands, with his face, with his body; a pale imitation of Jaskier’s fluency.

“It wasn’t yours to make right! The Djinn did it, not you!”

‘My wish—’

“Was an accident! You thought the Djinn was under my control anyhow, it hadn’t been intentional. I honestly don’t recall if you even wished for it or said ‘I just want some damn peace!’ – you had warned me it was dangerous! If I had just listened—”

Wait. Wait.

Geralt shook his head. How had this spun away from him so quickly?

‘This wasn’t your fault.’

“It was no more yours than mine or mine than yours!” Jaskier pointed out, as if that had been his intention all along. He threw his hands out to his sides, pacing quietly – quiet, he hadn’t expected that, as if it had become a habit. He watched as the bard fluttered nimble fingers against his lips, eyes darting to Geralt distractedly, and mumbled, “Lovely kiss, by the way,” and when Geralt smirked he continued haughtily, “Which we will further discuss later, you oaf!”

Geralt chuckled without chuckling.

“You are,” Jaskier said slowly, finally stopping his pacing, “Insufferable. Your hero complex will see you into the ground one day, I swear, and no one will even know now because you can’t talk.”

Geralt gave him an obvious, deadpanned look. This? This felt right. Natural. Things had always been this way. Jaskier just hadn’t realized that yet.

‘You have always been my words.’

Jaskier stilled. In the lines of his body Geralt saw the quiet sway of wind through a garden well cared for; buzzing with bees, home to all manner of flowers, beautiful and soothing to its guests. So alive, so open. Jaskier was a garden. Geralt had merely returned the birds that had lost their way.

He waited. Waited for the inevitable. He had taken Jaskier’s voice, then made parlay for it without his permission. Surely the bard would leave him. He no longer needed the witcher, after all, and in his silent days had seen more than enough journeys to sing about for the rest of his life. Geralt waited.

“You bloody imbecile,” Jaskier breathed, his face going slack with subdued outrage and realization. “You daft man, you uncommunicative bastard!”

Geralt looked away. He didn’t need his voice. It was better suited in the bard. He didn’t need Jaskier. He had been on the road alone for years before him, and he could do it again.

But there was something in his chest – heavy, prickly and unfamiliar. Want.

He swallowed. He didn’t approach him, but also did not shy away when Jaskier stomped forward and reached for his face. He waited for the slap, for the slam of a door.

Jaskier guided his gaze back down to him.

“Don’t belittle my affections by presuming I stayed because you were convenient. I do not need my voice to live a comfortable or enjoyable life. I need you.”

He felt like shattered glass in a repair man’s palms, all his broken edges grinding together in wrong ways.

“What’s done is done,” Jaskier finally said, his hand reaching back to cup the back of Geralt’s neck as he had done to him not long ago. “And… you’re right. We’ve never needed words to speak and they have never been a tool you enjoyed using. I shall be your words. I’ve been with you long enough to know how to explain your creatures to townsfolk and gods above know I am a better haggler than you – you let that bastard swindle you into this contract for 250 crowns, for gods sake, Geralt! I was dying – ahh,” he shook his head, refocusing, “Nevermind. Point is, we’ve always made it work. We’ll make this work too. But for the record, I wasn’t broken, Geralt. Not with you.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to the witcher’s mouth, smiling and soft at the sight of Geralt’s baffled look, his inability to collect himself to react in the face of such an unexpected confession. Jaskier was the one to whisper into his lips this time between kisses, “Not that I don’t appreciate your sacrifice. The songs I’ll sing about the gift you’ve given me, Geralt – gods above, I’ve missed singing.”

‘I’ve missed it too,’ Geralt thought, perhaps said with his touch and the way he leaned into every peck Jaskier gave him, every breath against his lips.

“Fucking knew it,” Jaskier said, grinning against his mouth, “Filling-less pie, you emotionally constipated dog. And don’t think for one moment I didn’t hear you. We’ve been talking without talking for too long for me to have missed it, you know.”

Geralt felt heat rush to his cheeks and crawl up his neck, making a home in the tips of his ears. He turned away to hide it as Jaskier pulled back, but it was too late. The bard chuckled fondly and when Geralt finally chanced looking back at him, he grumbled embarrassedly – silently.

“It’s not the first time you’ve said you love me, Geralt,” Jaskier said, smiling with all his teeth, skin aglow like dawn breaking the night. “You’ve been saying it for ages.”

Jaskier drew his face back to him when Geralt tried once more to look away, bristly and unsure of himself and self-conscious that all this time he hadn’t been half as secretive – or aware himself – as he thought.

Jaskier took his time looking him over. Memorizing his face, Geralt realized, as he had memorized the bard’s when he found him on the windowsill. He felt exposed as he had at the Mothers’ feet. Known.

He leaned into Jaskier’s hand. Enjoyed the brush of a thumb over a sore scar on his cheekbone.

“I don’t need words,” Jaskier said gently, “But I am grateful to have them. Thank you, Geralt. I’ll use your voice wisely.”

The witcher leaned in, loose like a puppet with his strings cut now that it was finally done, and pressed his forehead to the bard’s. Power thrummed between them, the magic of being known and kept.

Silently, love spoke for them

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #gaskier #prompt #wtf do I even tag this #i don't think I've ever written so much back to back fluff as I have for this fandom #who am I?#witcher writing

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sometipsygnostalgic · 4 years ago

Note

whats the rational behind those classpect assignments... 👀

Finn: Knight of Hope. Superficially, a Knight of Hope is the classpect you’d assign to a protagonist character like Finn, someone who fights for his moral code. And this is what he does early in the show. However, the Hope aspect connects with Finn in a much more intimate way later on. In Homestuck, “Hope” characters include Cronus, Eridan, and Jake, who are HOPELESS when it comes to romantic relationships. They’re terrible partners too. Jake has tons of people lusting after him but doesn’t know how to deal with any of them. His friendships with them all collapse, just like Finn. They also lose hope at some point in the story and have low self esteem. Finn in season 4 starts to do some shady stuff to impress women. He becomes a creep. He tries to get Flame Princess to fight Ice King literally so he can get off on it in his dreams (no joke, no exaggeration, that’s what the story tells us), and he doesn’t think about her at all, so he loses her trust and she breaks up. Finn rebounds onto PB - who he already knew was not interested in him at all - and acts creepy with her, but messes up HER trust in him too. He ends that episode with her disappointed that he can’t take an adult situation seriously. Then Flame Princess tries to rebound on FP, and does creepy Eridan/Cronus stuff like touching her shoulder and not respecting her at all. It doesn’t work and he just... falls into despair.

Finn tries to cover his teen angst, and save face by saying he doesn’t want to date princesses because he wants to focus on his “knight” duties. Finn disguising his feelings, by acting as a knight, screams “knight” to me. And everything about his relationships screams “hope”.

But... Finn REGAINS hope in the episode “Breezy”. By being knighted!!! He has a hallucination that he’s being reknighted and suddenly the flower on his arm blooms and he’s able to function again.

For the rest of the show he’s a sincere champion of hope. He deals with things more maturely. At one point he puts hope into the universe to save his life, and it does. At another point he protects the world by using nightmare juice against his own boss, hoping it’ll knock some sense into her, and it does. But Finn can fall into despair again, as he does when the Finn sword is smashed, and sometimes his blind hope can cause him to fall into naive traps, like when he was used as a trojan in Gumbaldia.

Jake: see this post

PB: PB is just Dirk Strider if Dirk was a better character. Seriously you could absorb Dirk into her and nothing would change about her other than maybe adding his fondness for smuppets (...though there’s nothing proving she DOESNT have a fondness for smuppets already). They’re both shut-ins, they’re both heartbreakers, they raised themselves from childhood, they’re both tech geniuses, they both ride hoverboards, theyre both repressed gays incredibly clingy about a specific bisexual who have to push away advances from pushy straight people, they both make killer robots, they both have 10,000 splinters of themselves represented as other characters who often become evil due to their shared characteristics, they’re both coldhearted parents, they both have hero complexes, they both have god complexes, they both make the weirdest shit for no reason, they’re the most neurotic in their ensembles, they’re both scared that they can become monsters because of their most natural instincts, and they both DO unfortunately become monsters because of ultimate self shenanigans outside of their control, with the main difference being Dirk’s ultself breaks the fourth wall and isn’t undone, but PB sings the fucking intro song in the elements series so I guess that can count as a 4th wall break. PB is literally an extension of what Dirk would become if he were a candy girl, he didn’t meet Roxy, Condy wasn’t around, and sburb didn’t exist. They even have a similar parallel where they didn’t become as evil as their splinters because they had a brother, and some early influence from family to be good.

BMO: Okay, so like I said BMO could have been a Hope player as well, or a Bard, and it wouldn’t have made much difference. I chose Rogue of Mind ultimately because BMO is so creative, and can be unexpectedly helpful. BMO’s mind is dangerous and lead them to go on crazy misadventures. But he can show up out of nowhere and change a situation for the better. BMO’s also incredibly cheerful with some hidden depths. I FEEL Rogue of Mind for BMO. It’s hard to justify how, becuase what would a Rogue of Mind even be?

But BMO is a gremlin wild with imagination just like Terezi. You can’t deny that at all.

Marceline: I will admit I put less thought into Marceline’s than Finn’s. I always saw Marceline as a Time player though, and I always wanted her to be a passive class like a rogue or a page! Marceline has always fallen victim to being passive in her circumstances.

She is like Tavros and Jake because she feels like she can’t control what happens to her. Marceline gives up really quickly because she think she can’t improve the world or her situation. Like how Jake thinks he’s full of hope, Marceline is superficially seen as a master of time, because she’s a vampire. She’s lived a long time, right? But actually she hasn’t come to terms with her immortality. She hates it, and she hates that time keeps repeating itself. Marceline is intimidated by the prospect of living forever and sees it as a burden put on her by the Vampire King’s assault. A traumatic experience she can’t move on from.

There are many ways in which she relates to Aradia and Dave as well - how she handles traumatic experiences. Marceline pretended to be a monster because she was fed up of people abandoning her, and thought she WAS a monster, and if she put on a facade and acted like a huge jerk, it would push people away so they can’t get close to her and hurt her. But this only made her unhappy. Dave did something very similar, with his cool kid persona. Aradia dealt with being dead by pretending she was a robot who had no feelings. Marceline tries to shed her vampire identity and thinks this is going to make her feel better, but it wouldn’t have done. She’d have spent the rest of her life still hanging onto that trauma even as a mortal. She is filled with overconfidence which all collapses, like Jake and Tavros, and she spends a good chunk of the final episode having given up on her ability to change fate.

But where the Page aspect shines is its potential. Marceline speaks to Ice King and realises that, in being a survivor, she has a kind of strength. She decides to use her strength to grip onto the wheel of fortune, and in one fell swoop, ANNIHILATES the vampire king with her massive hidden potential. Then it is locked away once more.

Marceline doesn’t understand the extent of her abilities. She’s at a very early stage in her immortal lifespan. But she’s learnt that even though everything repeats itself, it changes ever so slightly each time, and she DOES have control over her fate. She shares this epiphany with Aradia, who took control of HEr own fate in Homestuck. Marceline will only get more and more acquainted with her aspect over time! She has so much potential because she will live for many years.

#adventure time #homestuck

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thecringefailintherye · 4 years ago

Text

Oliver! (1968) Live (re) watch!

i have already seen oliver!, but not in ages, so i decided to watch it again, enjoy

very long post warning

fuckin hell these opening credits are LONG

i love the fact instrumentals of songs in the movie are playing

i have chocolate popcorn, apple lucozade and oliver! on, life is good

yes i know mark lester is oliver ive seen this like 20 times can i watch the film now

OH ABOUT FUCKING TIME

god is love

IS IT WORTH THE WAITING FOR IF WE LIVE TILL 84 ALL WE EVER GET IS GRUELL

i forgot how much of a banger food glorious food is

LOOK AT BABY MARK LESTER 🥺🥺🥺

ads in middle of movie be like

its harry secombe!

AMENNNN

oliver gets bullied the movie

look at this poor kid

MOREE????????

oh yes oliver i love this song

O L I V E R

poor kid

without any bannister yikes

the one who named him........O-L-IV-ERRR

oh were outside now

olivers just been kicked out oh shit

but on the plus side he has a cute ass hat on

BOY FOR SAY AL

look at oliver 🥺 he deserves better

SOWERBERRY MORE LIKE SHITTERBERRY

theres a severe lack of thats your funeral and i shall scream

noah claypole more like noah clayprick

“perhaps... if i had a tall hat?” BABEY

HES GOT HIS TALL HAT ON YES OLIVER

oliver said dab on them haters from your old gaff youre a funeral advisor now and theyre still homeless

DONT INSULT HIS MUM FUCK YOU NOAH

YES OLIVER KILL HIM

yes stuff the nine year old in a coffin and sit on it well done

"OLIVAH ??" "Yes im here: ((("

ITS MEAT!

oliver deserves better man

im gonna cry and were like 25 minutes in.

ik its not mark singing but whoever it is CAN SING WTF

i want to give him a hug

OH SHIT HES RUNNING AWAY

hes in the lettuce

LONDON YOU MADE IT !

yes oliver trains exist

DODGER!!!

whach you starin at aint ya ever seen a toff

the beak

look at lil jack wild

me more hintimate friends

cockney accent™️

the artful dodga

CONSIDERR YOURSSELF AT HOEME COSNIDER YOURSWLF OEN OF THE FAMILY !!!!!!!!!!

im sorry i love this song

look this scene is awesome, but it would be COMPLETE with charley oh wait he was demoted to extra and everything interesting abt him was given to dodger

he should have gotten the nobody tries to be ladeeda or uppity bit I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

this cast is BIG

okay i am a Charger Enthusiast but do we all agree there is something oddly homosexual about oliver and dodger in this song

note how dodger is scared of the police FORESHADOWING

ive taken to this SO STRONGITSCLEARWEREGOINGTOGETALONG

how many extras is this ???? yall better be gettin paid

its dodga comin up

this set is sraight out of the book i love it

CHARLEY MATE IM SORRY THEY MADE YOU AN EXTRA

“oh not again” does dodger just always show up with random workhouse kids

ah yes fagin the character whos still a negative jewish stereotype

more and more big cast

THESE SAUSAGES ARE MOULDY! (am i going to freak out whenever charley does anything because i love him? yes)

stfu drink your gin

is this a laundry?? no fam

THE BEST FUCKING SONG IN THIS MUSICAL

IN THIS LIFE ONE THING COUNTS

sorry if i dont add to this until pick a pocket or two is done bc its a straight banger

this song is EVERYTHING

hard at work lol ok

did he make those himself??? no

couple a wipes

EMBROIDERED THEM??? no

petition for all oliver twist adaptations to refer to charley as master bates like the book and for him to have actual lines and not have his actor switched at least three times

i dont even now who charley is at this point because his actor is switched many a time im just gonna say purple blazer kid is charley

anyway charley bates supremacy

whos bill sikes??? NO

fuck bill all my homies hate bill

rum tum tum is a banger

go bed now

take your hat off in bed dodger

movie fagin has rights

fagin leaving where will he go

BET IS THAT YOU

FUCK OFF BILL NO ONE LIKES YOU

NANCY NANCY HES HERE !!!!!! bet deserves everything and more ily 💖

NANCYYYY!!!!!!

its a fine life more like its a banger

wheres all of bets lines gone

bet 🤝 charley (being demoted to extras)

its not funny anyore bet.. bet girl please sing youre the best fucking thing about this song

such a happy song about domestic abuse

THERE SHE IS THATS MY GIRL BET I FUCKING LOVE YOU

bullsye rights!

i hate how this movie made fagin more symathetic but he’s still a “greedy jew” stereotype

oliver?????

at this moment fagin knew he fucked up

nancy you deserve better than bill

oh hi dodger forgot you existed

and the rest of you except oliver

ah yes charley “sausages” bates i missed you

THESE FUCKING KIDS THEY ALL LOVE BET AND NANCY MY HEART

im a regular gent i am. no dodger you arent

why is “permit me to assist you across the road” so fucking funny

pov dodgers back on his bullshit so you have to pretend to be a horse and cart for him

not “sir artful” 😭😭😭

anyfink for youu

WHAT FISTICUFFS???!!!

i feel sorry for the child extras man theyve prob had to film this scene like ten times

THESE KIDS CAN SING

the boys dancing with eachother is too fucking wholesome i love this

again, movie fagin rights

weed riissk lifee and limmbb

you promised we could go see the angin!!!!!

ats on boys time were off

THIS IS MY FAVOURITE SONG

HOW COULD WE LET HOW COULD WE FORGET OUR DEAR OLD FAGIN WORRY!!

mate that aint single file did you not hear him

am i the only one who can hear london bridge is falling down in the back??

our pockets hold a watch of gold that chimes upon the hour!!! a wallet fat an old mans hat!!! the jewels from the tower!!!

WE KNOW THE NOSEY POLICEMEENNNN

dodger and charley (i am SURE charley is purple blazer kid even if havent seen this film in ages) are GETTING INTO THIS

oliver 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

movie fagin rights pt 27238227

DODGER OLIVER COME ON!!!!!!!!! alright dude chill

ARE YALL SEEING THIS SHIT, I WAS RIGHT, I TOLD YOU THAT THE LAD IN THE PURPLE BLAZER WHO SINGS “a wallet fat an old mans hat” WAS CHARLEY BATES AND GUESS WHAT HE FUCKING IS. I WAS RIGHT, PURPLE BLAZER KID IS CHARLEY YOU CAN LEAVE NOW

no dont were only an hour in

three kids on the back of the omnibus what will they do

dodger and charley said be gay do crimes

ah shit now look what youve gotten us into dodger

IT WASNT EVEN OLIVER IT WAS CHARLEY AND DODGER GO AFTER THEM

are dodger and charley straight up framing oliver for a crime they commited while also helping him escape

yes they are why are we surprised

i hate to break it to you dodger but hiding oliver in a meat sack doesnt work

OLIVERS ON THE ROOF????

charley and dodger got oliver into this mess and they are not going to get him out

WHY DIDNT YOU LOOK AFTER HIM????? right calm down fagin

how could i help it :((((

no bill!

stan nancy

“two other boys stole it” no shit

BROWNLOW !

run bitch run

right intermission time now

AND WE’RE BACK!

entr acte

who will buyyy

strawberry girl is carrying this

oliver owns my heart pt 278983728938728

this is a banger wtf

okay its done now right

right?????

UHH BILL???? DODGER???? BITCH WHY TF ARE YOU HERE

have bill fagin nancy and the boys been stalking oliver???

NO SHE WONT FAGIN!

shit.

fuck bill

this scene is far more sadder when you think of how the boys have just seen the only woman they see as a mother figure been hit to the flo or, im not crying, you are

as long as he needs me :(

FUCK YOU BILL

rose maylie is that you?!

look at lil oliver!!

BILL FUCK OFF

i hate bill

“look at his togs! he’s got books too!” charley and dodger are my emotional support kids

anyway have i mentioned i hate bill, bc i hate bill.

I REALLY REALLY HATE BILL

even fagin aka the guy whos keeping these kids as pickpockets has more morals than bill

WE STAY CALM!!

no bill i havent heard a dying chicken

act one was just childish antics now we have THIS

fuck bill

YOURE TELLING ME THE BOYS WATCHED THAT????

jack wild is a banging actor. he genuinely looks terrified 🥺

this film..

a mans got a heart hasnt he?? yes you do!!!

a full song dedicated to movie fagin rights?? did i ghostwrite this?? probably

banger

ithinkidbetterthinkitoutagain!

villains theives and nine year olds

MR BUMBLE?????!!!!!!!!!!

fuck bill pt72898376728909878199

bill youre traumatising him

cmon nance do something!!

also completely forgot abt this but uh does monks exist in this i forgot bc we have had no mentions of him yet

nancy tell him who bill is!!!

bullseye deserves better

uhm what is going on

bill sikes more like bill yikes

oliver what are you doing

BILL TERRIFIES ME

FUCK

omg oom pah pah????

leave oliver alone bill hes like nine

oh banger

OOM PAH PAH THATS HOW IT GOES!!!!!!!!!

just asking are nancy and bet lesbians bc they look it

COULD IT BE OOM PAH PAHHHHHH

god i love this song

IT SHOOOOOWSSSSSS

its the same oom pah pah

“She was from the country but now shes up a gumtree she let a fella feed her then lead her a long” foreshadowiinnggg

OOM PAH PAH! OOM PAH PAH! OOM PAH PAH!

nancy is so fucking smart

getting the whole pub singing and dancing to smuggle out oliver? clever

fuck

bill.. no.. bill.. bill????

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKC

BILL GET OFF HER

NANCY NO

HE STRAIGHT UP COMMIT MURDER AGAINST THE NICEST CHARACTER

BROWNLOW DO YOU NOT HEAR NOTHING

nancy deserved a better death than to be killed by bill fuck bill

EVEN BULLSEYE HATES YOU BILL

ARE THEY ACCUSING BULLSEYE OF MURDER

FUCK YOU BILL

movie fagin rights + fuck bill combo?

youre telling me fagin had an ESCAPE ROUTE??? AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HOUSE THING??? THE WHOLE TIME???

BILL DONT KILL THE CHILD

BILL

fuck, well. #

“WHAT DO I DO!?” “LIVE UP TO YOUR NAME, DODGE ABOUT”

ten quid says dodgers been caught

oh no all fagins shit is gone

BILL DONT KILL THE CHILD PT 2

FUCK YOU BILL

GOD I HATE HIM

OLIVER MATE ARE YOU OK

never have i been so happy to see a character die

rest in shit bill

hi dodger thought you got caught n went to australia

god, this film is so fucking good.

reviewing the situation 2.0 goes hard

MOVIE. FAGIN. RIGHTS!

FAGIN YOU CAN BE A GOOD MAN YOU KNOW YOU CAN

DODGER??????????

IM TOTALLY NOT CRYING RN

FAGIN NO DONT TAKE IT

FUCKING PLOTTWIST

IT MADE IT LOOK LIKE FAGIN WAS GONNA GIVE THE WALLET BACK TO DODGER BUT NO

once the villain you’re the villain to the end

i completely forgot abt this scene since i’ve been reading the oliver twist book and in that dodger gets arrested and fagin gets hanged but here they get away?

god this is bittersweet

I THINK WE’D OUGHT TO THINK IT OUT AGAIN!!!!!

thats where the film should have ended, i get olivers the main character but it ending on dodger and fagin walking out into the sunset is such a pleasing ending man

oliver gets his happy ending abt time

YES CONSIDER YOURSELF AND BE BACK SOON (THE BIGGEST BANGERS IN THE FILM) CREDITS SONGS!!

well.. that was a journey and half

#oliver!#oliver twist #oliver #oliver! 1968 #oliver 1968 #charlie’s comfort movies #oliver twist 1968 #oliver! the musical #oliver the musical #musicals #1960s #1960s movies #60s #mark lester #jack wild #oliver reed #ron moody #shani wallis #and everyone else in the huge ass cast

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clumsyclifford · 3 years ago

Note

hello bella i would like to ask you about future hearts, not in chronological order, and stories for monday -hazel

WAIT i pressed send too early i also wanted to throw a curveball and ask about the newsies original broadway cast recording :) -hazel

yeesh you picked some good ones hazel. okay. i'm gonna put a cut because four albums is a Lot.

send me albums!

future hearts - all time low

the first song from this album I heard: uhhhhhhh i don't remember, but i......hesitantly......say.......cinderblock garden. but i have no idea why i say that. no i don't really know at all.

do I own the album?: nope

my favorite song: don't you go but also if we're counting b-sides which we should be then how the story ends. and........edge of tonight. and runaways. i know that's a lot of songs i don't care.

my least favorite song: satellite i like it but it's unremarkable compared to the rest of the album and the structure of it is just a little weird to me

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: there were two future hearts songs that for some inexplicable reason didn't download when i bought the album on itunes back in like 2015 when i used itunes and this album came out so i just didnt know they existed for several months, and those songs were bail me out and edge of tonight. this isnt really relevant since i love both of those songs but i just wanted to share. i guess...i think runaways has grown on me. honestly i think thats a result of including it in baby driver fic, lmao

a song I used to like, but now don’t: well i used to LOVE cinderblock garden and now as you can see i don't list it among my favorites. and the same with dancing with a wolf. and for that matter, also satellite lol

my favorite lyric: another impossible question <3 this doesnt really count but the line in tidal waves "say i'm your filthy little, filthy little-" always makes me smile bc when i was younger and my older sister and i would listen to that song whenever we got to that part we'd both yell WHORE at the top of our lungs. and in fact i still do. real talk though, i think the bridge of missing you might be my favorite lyric in here. "grit your teeth, pull your hair, paint the walls black, and scream 'FUCK the world 'cause it's my life, i'm gonna take it back' and never for a second blame yourself" yeah thats the GOOD shit. WAIT I LIE I HAVE ANOTHER ONE: "beautiful scars on critical veins" (mmm and also "roll like thunder, burn like stars") from kids in the dark. mmmm. and all of edge of tonight. man this album has some gooooooood gaskarth lines.

overall rating out of 10: honestly? 10/10. even with satellite. this is such a good fucking album i constantly underrate it but i love it so much it can do no wrong

not in chronological order - julia michaels (this one is gonna be trickier because i haven't listened to the whole album that many times but i'm gonna put it on while i answer the rest of these so hopefully i can have some real opinions here)

the first song from this album I heard: it would've been lie like this i think, because that song was out before any of the other singles

do I own the album?: nope :)

my favorite song: that's the kind of woman, pessimist, lie like this, all your exes. i really LOVE about half this album and the other half i just don't really know well enough

my least favorite song: orange magic just Does Not do it for me. idk man

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: well i'm very much still working on familiarizing myself with these songs so i might still be in the phase of "didn't like at first" (betcha anything orange magic will grow on me lmao). there aren't any songs that i've changed my opinion on at least not yet

a song I used to like, but now don’t: see previous answer lol

my favorite lyric: "i love myself, but i'd love her more; that's the kind of woman i'd leave me for" from that's the kind of woman (that shit HITS), also "i'll stop checking horoscopes to cope with all my misery" and "you took a pessimist and turned me into something else" from pessimist because it gives me a lot of hope. and "it was you before i ever decided" from little did i know because :') romance

overall rating out of 10: 8/10 miss michaels KNOWS an album. this would probably be higher if not for orange magic lmao

stories for monday - the summer set

the first song from this album I heard: according to my spotify, all my friends! the first time i listened to this album was on shuffle while writing a prompt fic that was entirely unrelated. i know, it's appalling.

do I own the album?: no <3

my favorite song: MMMNNGNHHGJ i think. i think it's figure me out. and missin' you. yeah. those two

my least favorite song: honest to god i want to say all downhill from here but the little bass riff at the end of that song basically forbids me from saying that. so i'm gonna say change your mind instead. it's the vibiest but thats not why we COME to stories for monday now is it

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: don't know, maybe all in? i can't remember ever not liking one of these songs tbh. ironically maybe the answer to this is change your mind lol

a song I used to like, but now don’t: well i listened to all my friends about five million times when i wrote that fic based on it so it's in the same situation as i think he knows now. i need a little bit of an all my friends break.

my favorite lyric: bro this is literally an impossible fuckign QUESTION!! the entirety of figure me out. "i'm a bit too punk for the pop kids, but i'm too pop for the punk kids" and "i believe there's more to life than all my problems" both are really close to my heart. the bridge of all in about it being 4am in the parking lot we'll be singing blink songs til the sun comes up, that too. wait wait okay and also: "forever nineteen somehow" from jean jacket and "growing up can make you stupid, why is everyone so scared?" from wasted. okay okay i'm done i'm done

overall rating out of 10: fucking 11/10 bro this is in my top 10 albums ever i'm pretty sure

newsies - original broadway cast recording

the first song from this album I heard: no fuckin idea. it must have been the overture because i never listened to the cast recording before watching the bootleg so!

do I own the album?: i do not

my favorite song: mmm i. LOVE once and for all. but i also love watch what happens reprise. and brooklyn's here. and carrying the banner. ugh fuck i love so many of these songs.

my least favorite song: the bottom line reprise lmfao easy

a song I didn’t like at first, but now do: i don't know, i guess i like the bottom line a LITTLE more than i used to but it's a very low bar. wait actually, the overture. i have a much greater appreciation for an overture than i used to.

a song I used to like, but now don’t: i honestly can't think of one. maybe similar effect to something to believe in? i like it SLIGHTLY less but i still really like it so?

my favorite lyric: EASY answer, this lyric is among my favorites in all of musical theatre, i had it written on my mirror for a long time in high school. this part from seize the day: "behold the brave battalion that stands side by side / too few in number and too proud to hide / then say to the others who did not follow through / 'you're still our brothers, and we will fight for you'"

overall rating out of 10: 9/10. fucking banger of an album. i always say this is the best cast recording for a car ride and i stand by that

#ask #anonymous #hazel #allsassnoclass #i have not listened to newsies recently enough #or enough at all #what a great score #and i love that lyric from seize the day i really really like that it talks about how we fight for everyone not just--#--the people who were brave enough to step up #we fight for the cowards too #it just. yeah.#newsies has one of the best scores #as well as bandstand falsettos and gypsy #the former three are my favorite musicals so there's a slight bias there #but gypsy is just. objectively so fun #and so good #i regularly quote that musical lol #in case anyone was wondering the other lyric that i always cite as my favorite in musical theatre is #'what matters when things happen is what happens after'#from everything happens from bandstand #anyway #great questions hazel thank you #damn guys not in chronological order is a really GOOD fuckin album. aside from orange magic this album really hits

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ask-the-crimson-king · 4 years ago

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Tales from D&D: The Campfire Song Song

[It is I, your friendly neighborhood Hermit back with another tale from D&D. And this one is... Certainly a saga. LONG POST AHOY.

IT IS ONCE AGAIN FROM MY CURSE OF STRAHD CAMPAIGN! The characters, in brief, are:

AETERNUS -- Goliath wild soul barbarian, played more like a golem than a goliath. Stoic, remembers almost nothing of his past. ARAZEL -- Blood angel (aasimar x tiefling hybrid) bard, has a patron because he used to be a Warlock and the player wanted to keep the patron. Very much a Bard. Has tamed a fucking dire wolf who is now named Boris. He is a good boy. LEON -- Human time domain cleric, worships a god of time called Tempus. Old retired soldier sent out into the world because his god has plans for him. CALEB -- Vampire desperado gunslinger, a vampire hunter who wants revenge against the creatures who turned him and killed his family.

In the last session, the players had made it to the Old Bonegrinder and met the three hags living there. Thanks to a Fifth Nat 1, the hags became hostile because Arazel mentioned how he had a pet dire wolf and the hags thought he was sent by Strahd.

I told them at the beginning of this one, “If you can talk your way out of this encounter, I’ll let you level up right now instead of waiting for Friday.”

What the fuck happens right after I say that?

Arazel fucking crits on persuasion and the party is now LEVEL FOUR! HURRAY!

Caleb is dealing with the two sisters upstairs, his gun is mentioned, and then Arazel’s player says, and I quote,

Arazel had also purchased a pastry, and Aeternus ends up charging upstairs and Arazel turns to him and says, "Hey Pebbles, eat this okay?" Aeternus made the con save, so instead of having weird dream visions, he instead felt this weird sense of nostalgia that he cant place his finger on. Seeing the cakes were safe, the rest of the party all pay for a cake themselves and they all. fail. the save.

So they get to fall into a pleasant, dreamlike state, for 1d4+4 hours... and OF COURSE I roll a 4. So eight hours of them being in this trance. Arazel, Leon, and Caleb, all conked the hell out. Which meant Aeternus was alone with this Night Hag who was now cackling.

And so he asked the witch what was in the cakes, and she simply said “some very rare and exotic ingredients. it is an acquired taste.” aeternus then took many hints, scooped everyone up, and left with Ismark (Kolyana and Ireena were waiting outside in a cart, not trusting that place one bit, but Ismark went in to help guard the party and keep an eye on Caleb.)

They run back to the cart and Kolyana is asking what happened. Aeternus explains the situation with the cakes, and Kolyana then facepalms. He says,

"You didn't eat any, did you?" "I did, why?" "Those are dream cakes. they're popular in Vallaki -- you'll see why." "I do not dream." "Everyone dreams, my boy. daydreams, plans for the future, or-" "I have nothing to dream about." The cart goes quiet before Ismark speaks up. "What do you mean?" Aeternus then says, "I remember nothing but war from my past." "A miserable existence, then." "Heh, makes you sound like a barovian," Kolyana says with a snicker. "We're all miserable bastards."

More silence.

"You really don't remember anything?" Ismark then asks. "Nothing but war." Aeternus shakes his head. "How old are you?" "... I do not know. I have been wandering for some time, but I know I am quite old." "I don’t remember any wars in our recent history. You don’t seem to be old enough for any of those." "Definitely not," Kolyana agrees. The cart is silent, and Aeternus goes quiet.

Hours pass, and the cart is pulled off to the side of the road. Ireena and Valerie, a Vistana woman they had met, (who owned the cart), go off to build a fire, while the rest stay back in order to wait for the others to come out of their trances.

When they do awaken, the world is darker. More grim, more miserable. The mists seem to cling to them, and they long to be back in their dreams.

Arazel awakes with a start, drawing out his magic string and wrapping it around Leon's neck while a thin knife hovers at Caleb's throat. Kolyana, Ismark, and Aeternus all stand to try and apprehend him as he asks, "What the HELL happened to me?" "You were dreaming," Aeternus tells him. "We didn’t do anything to you." "Put the weapons away, you're around friends here," Ismark says, his sword half out of its sheath. Slowly, Arazel backs down, checking his wings to see if any feathers are out of place. Boris looks up at him expectantly, and Arazel takes him to the fire as the rest of the party files out of the cart.

They all go and head down to the fireplace, and enjoy a nice thick stew. Some of the vegetables are freshly picked from the lands around them, although they are thick mountain-dwelling plants. They are a bit higher up in elevation, though more surrounded by foothills instead of mountains.

They enjoy their dinner and Kolyana asks them what they saw in their visions. Leon goes first, recalling his home. recalling the people he loved, the community fostered, everything. It felt warm. It felt safe. But that wasn't here anymore. Kolyana gave him a small reassuring pat on the shoulder before Arazel spoke up.

"I saw my mother." "Your mother?" Aeternus asks. "Okay, well, here's the thing. My mother was this holy angel, and my father was a damned and hated tiefling. And my father kinda dipped on me when i was younger. My mother served a very holy god who didn't want to be sullied with such a sinful abomination," he then gestures to himself, "and so my mum had to leave me." "Wait, wait, your mom left you because her god said so?" Caleb asks. "Well yeah but I mean I get it. if she didn't then she would've lost her powers, and-" "That’s pretty selfish of her." Caleb shrugs. "sorry, man." "Not really. I’m sure any parent would do that." "I can tell you, as a father myself, I would never do that to my children. No matter who the god was. I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kolyana tells him, giving Arazel a meaningful look.

“And what about you, vampire?” the old man asks. “What did you see?”

"I saw my home. I saw the old homestead. I saw my parents, and my siblings. It was nice." Before Kolyana responds, a conspiracy of ravens descends from the sky. one lands on each of Aeternus' shoulders, cawing. The three Barovians all gasp.

"What fantastic luck," Kolyana mutters. Arazel is tempted to have Boris pounce on them, but Kolyana quickly says "DO NOT ATTACK THEM! That would bring nothing but doom and misfortune. Ravens are symbols of good luck, not evil. At least not here."

Arazel shrugs, and tosses a piece of his stew at them. They caw and hop off the giant's shoulders, peck at the food, then flutter off into the night. The party all decides to settle in for the night, and this comes my FAVORITE fucking part of the session;

Dream Chats with Strahd!

(Yes I’m bending the lore a bit but it’s for the rule of cool okay)

I bring each of the players into the Special Corner (Discord call, we have a D&D voice chat and then Special Corner for 1-on-1 with the DM) one by one.

First in was Arazel.

Arazel feels the presence of his patron. He feels a warm, golden glow about him, even if he cannot visualize Sanguinius himself. He soon finds himself within a hall. It seems to be that of a cathedral. Polished stone, nearly gleaming, is under his feet. But everything feels... a bit fuzzed out. Just barely out of focus. He sees a lectern at the end of this great hall, with, what 40k fans would recognize, as the BA symbol, inscribed into it.

And then he hears a very familiar voice, and sees a very familiar figure walk out from behind a pillar.

Familiar dark clothing, familiar face, familiar dark eyes.

It is Strahd von Zarovich, and he has come for a chat.

And he doesnt greet arazel with hostility. He says that he is impressed with this place of worship, and that he knows very little about Arazel’s patron. But he would love to learn more about him, and about Arazel himself. Arazel asks “why are you here?”

Strahd takes a sip from his glass before he says, “You and your compatriots all fascinate me. So I want to learn just a little more about you. How you think, what your morality is." He shrugs, and then explains that he does not have too much time to speak. An invitation will be given -- soon, though he does not know when -- and tells him it is within Arazel’s best interests to accept it. He wants to be able to have an open, honest chat with him and his friends.

He also asks that he does not discuss this meeting with anyone. A measure of trust. Arazel agrees, and Strahd disappears.

Next up, Caleb.

Caleb is dreaming of his homestead. He feels grass beneath his feet, but none of his family is here. Everything around him feels fuzzy, blurry. The only crisp image is of the homestead itself. Strahd appears to him as well, coming out of the homestead, and says similar things to what he told Arazel, namely the reason for his arrival and his interest in him and his friends. However, he also remarks on how similar the two of them are, referring to their shared vampiric nature. Caleb says,

"Actually we're probably very different. I think we became who we are through very different ways."

Strahd agrees, but he offers a solution to Caleb's little bloodthirst-issue, (which luckily has been able to be curbed thanks to Leon being generous), and potentially knowledge about his abilities. Caleb recently gained the ability to be able to shift into bat form, and he thinks he may have other skills locked away.

An invitation is mentioned, along with the same condition. He cannot tell anyone of this meeting.

Caleb, begrudgingly, agrees. Strahd vanishes once more. Interestingly, Strahd does not mention how one of Caleb’s current goals is to go into van Richten’s tower to find the old hunter in order to find a way to kill Strahd.

But we’ll get to that.

Then we go to Leon.

Leon appears within an old library. The books around him are nothing more than vague shapes, and there is a musty smell from the bookshelves. Ahead of him is a strange device, a piece of machinery made of many different concentric rings, which he realizes must represent the different planes of reality. It slowly moves, casting around shadows as an unknown light source dances around the room. This is a representation of how Tempus views reality and its many potential timelines, he realizes. Just a very, very simple model, but it resembles the one from his own church.

Enter Strahd, a warm smile on his face.

“I’ve been waiting to speak with you for some time. You and I have much to discuss.”

Leon asks why he is here, and Strahd explains what he had told Caleb and Arazel -- though he also adds he wants to learn a little more about him, here and now. He wants to also extend the offer for Leon to learn more about Strahd himself in a sort of private talk, and expresses interest in learning more about Tempus and Leon's nature and relationship. He asks Leon to tell him a few things, and Leon agrees to tell him a bit about his past -- his life as a soldier, the village he had settled within, how he found Tempus, that sort of stuff.

Then Leon cuts right to the point, saying, "Why are you really asking me this? I don’t like to associate with bad people."

"Well I wouldn’t call myself bad. I have made my mistakes, and I am no saint, but I’m not a horrible person." Strahd shrugs. "I ask because I’m fascinated by you. By all of you, honestly. You're quite the interesting little crew."

He mentions the invitation, but also gives a different message.

"I know Caleb is going to be going to van Richten's tower. I want you to stay behind in Vallaki when he does. I will send my invitation then. Our conversation will be a little more... private, for lack of a better term, then the one I shall have with all of you."

He gives the same terms -- that Leon cannot tell anyone of this meeting -- which Leon agrees to, and Strahd disappears once more.

Last but not least...

Aeternus.

Aeternus doesn't dream, but his mind does come to a daydreaming-state. He comes to one of the few scenes he remembers. A field, with the rubble of a broken house nearby. Nothing else is clear, or even blurred. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a vast void.

Strahd appears once more, commenting on how grim this place was. Aeternus is on edge at the appearance of the vampire, but simply replies, "this is all I can remember."

"Oh, I know. All you remember is warfare. But even then, of no clear battle. Just fragments of death and misery. A shame, really." Strahd sighs. "I know of a way for you to begin remembering all you had lost. My libraries may hold some of the answers you seek, as do I."

Aeternus is quiet. Before he speaks, strahd smiles.

"Petting that wolf made you remember something, didn't it? And the cake you ate? You remember something about a raven, too."

Aeternus is caught way off guard. Strahd has, somehow (rule of cool and plot reasons) gotten into his head. He goes on guard, but Strahd puts his hands up.

"I can offer answers. I will be sending an invitation, soon. I do not know when. But I need to be able to trust you. Tell no one of this encounter."

"How can i be able to trust you?" Aeternus responds with a grunt. One hand is on his axe. Strahd chuckles. "Caleb wants to go to van Richten's tower. Go with him. There is something waiting for you there."

And then he disappears, and that is where the session ended.

#very long post #sorry about that #D&D stories #tales from D&D #moonclaws dm bullshit #i need to come up with a D&D tag #D&D

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lemonietrinket · 5 years ago

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Dinosaur ||| Doyoung x Reader

Summary: Doyoung was worried to meet your family, but he needn’t have been. Genre: Fluff, Comedy, heated elements bc who doesnt want to make out with doyoung Warning(s): None Word Count: 2133 Theme Song: Fade Into You - Mazzy Star AN: December 17th prompt, meeting each other’s families (credit @songi-writes) Sorry this one is so much shorter than the others, I’m working on some bigger oneshots so needed to get this one done and dusted in a short period of time :(( EDIT: now I’ve edited I have realised how bad this was in places I’m so so sorry

~~~

You lay on your bed, taking in the sight of the man you loved. A single beam of light shone through the ajar door, falling in a golden haze at the strike of his jaw and gently illuminating the rest of his face for your eyes alone.

God he was so beautiful.

You stroked your hand across his cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin there, slightly puffed in his sleeping state.

Relief washed over you like the waves on the beach of a calm summer’s day, sinking into your breath, steady and paced. He’d been so worried that morning, so tense throughout the whole drive there, and to see him finally resting let you finally allow yourself some peace.

You were staying round your parents’ house for the weekend, and he’d been absolutely terrified. They’d never met him before, and though you’d told them a fair bit about him, you’d tried to keep the details as unobtrusive as possible, knowing Doyoung was quite a private person—you preferring your relationship to remain that way too.

However, it meant your parents had no idea what to expect, and he was afraid they were going to struggle with his blunter energy.

Or, in his words, loathe him with every fibre of their beings and banish him from ever laying eyes upon you ever again.

As you tempted your eyes to stay open by taking in the shadows of his features, your lips spread into a smile remembering his panicked ramblings, and at how misguided they were.

You knew they were going to love him. Even if your parents rambled on about things you should watch out for and things that make a man a keeper, and even if they pestered you or seemed blissfully ignorant of your choices, they still retained that it was your decision, deep down. Even if they made a fuss about it first.

Nevertheless, Doyoung checked many of the boxes your parents required. Smart, polite, respectful, who was undoubtedly in love with you, with no eyes for any other. There was no doubt that they’d make a fuss about how good of a choice he was.

Still, your encouragement had proven little use, as the man—ever the pessimist—wouldn’t quite believe he was the perfect choice until he could see it for himself. And even then he would never admit it. You just worried for what this did to his heart, as he inevitably paced around, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched and lips pursed before you left.

Now he was peaceful again, and unbearably adorable as he twitched a little in his sleep. You pulled your hand away and let him nestle into a more comfortable position, content with just tracing the lines of his fingers instead.

When you’d entered through the door, you knew instantly that your mother recognised him. You knew it wasn’t a deep recognition, only that she’d seen his face before, and she’d questioned you about it while your dad spun Doyoung away to give him a tour of the house.

“Y/N, I swear to you that I’ve seen your boyfriend before,” she said, “is he a model? I-in one of the magazines?”

You’d chuckled, explaining that he was handsome enough to be, that she’d been more likely to have seen him on TV.

“Oh,” she’d said, “well I’m not sure about that, we don’t watch TV as much anymore, we only really have it on to watch the news, or big shows.”

Laughing, you asked her if Doyoung looked like he could be a big name to her.

She’d replied with a strong shake of her head. “No! No no. He’s too nice and gentle for big showbizz, hun. Why? He isn’t is he?”

You’d merely smiled in an effort to hold in your laughter, as well as slight pride, as you walked off to bring the bags in from the car.

Doyoung rolled over to face the other way in his sleep, and you shifted a little closer so you could still garner some warmth. You slipped your arm over his waist gently in order to not wake him, and rested your head against his shoulder blade. A sigh left your lips at the mere feeling of his being, as he existed, and he was here with you. You couldn’t even believe it sometimes, and he was one of the more down-to-earth members of his group. The thought led you to stifle a chuckle at the thought of who was going to end up dating Jungwoo, or Yukhei, or god forbid Ten or Donghyuck—they would all be hard work in different ways, but those two really required something extra. Still, they were all such catches. Nuzzling your cheek into his skin, you breathed in the scent of Doyoung, fresh and unintrusive, unable to hold yourself back from softly pressing a kiss into his back.

The truth had come out at the dinner table, when your father had asked too much detail about Doyoung’s career.

He just wanted to know how much he earnt, but it ended up being a full on presentation of how all of the NCT units worked. Eventually your boyfriend had multiple pieces of paper with in-depth diagrams placed upon your grandmother’s old easel in the corner, using a bread knife as a pointer.

Throughout the entire thing, and bless it took your parents a while to get it, you were laughing so hard that by the end that you felt lightheaded. You had to give your family credit however, for paying so much attention to him—the fact that they stuck with it proved to him somewhat that they didn’t hate him as much as he feared, and consequently you found his words coming together much smoother afterwards. Though you had to admit it came as quite a surprise to you. You hadn’t expected them to behave in such an interested, genuine and determined manner, even for one that they held in such high esteem.

Before you could dwell on the complexities of your parents’ behaviour—something that you would much prefer to leave in the past—Doyoung sat up in your bed, taking half of the blankets with him.

Ignoring the sudden cold across your torso, you lazily joined him, propping yourself up on an arm and gently holding his shoulder concernedly. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

He turned to you in the dark, the sliver of light from the hall barely showing his face and leaving you to search his bleary eyes in the shadows. “I’ve met your parents, haven’t I?” he asked hesitantly.

You watched him bemusedly glance around the room, wanting to hold him closer and console him but not being sure if it was what he even needed. “Yes, you have.”

“Do they like me?” His voice was stronger this time, still grappled by sleep but no less worried about some part of his fate.

“Yes! They certainly do.”

There was a relieved sigh, as your boyfriend slumped back onto the bed. “Thank the world for that.”

“Why?” you enquired, shifting your weight so you could see him better in the dark. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” he reassured, turning over to face you, “no, just a... really weird dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it? It may help,” you suggested, though as you leant in you saw how his sweet features twisted into a sheepish smile. You caught onto his train of thought, “Or do I not want to know?”

“Probably not.”

You hummed, resting your head on your hand as you sent him a playful grin. “I don’t know, I’m kind of curious now... Give me five words.”

He peered up at you incredulously from the pillow where his dishevelled hair framed his face perfectly. “You...? You know why am I surprised.” He sighed, biting the inside of his lip as he thought. “Let me see... ‘your mum was a dinosaur’?”

You mouth fell open in giggly shock as you gasped and playfully kicked his leg. “Excuse me, sir! My mother does not look like a dinosaur!”

“I know! She doesn’t! Of course! But she like,” he searched for the words desperately as he tried not to laugh while you gave into them yourself, “she-she was like half a dinosaur in my dream and it was really weird, I told you that you didn’t want to know!”

“What the hell, Doyoung?!” you questioned aimlessly with a cackle as you joined him back on the mattress, a hand reaching out for his. He accepted your hand reluctantly, playing with it surprisingly petulantly, thumping it into the duvet. “Genuinely only my boyfriend would worry so much about his girlfriend’s mum not liking him that she would appear as a dinosaur in his dreams to... what,” you took a wild guess, “eat him because she didn’t like him?”

He faked hurt, his cheeks puffed out which only made the urge to pepper him in kisses stronger. “You better be proud of me, then!” he insisted, before shaking his head, leaning in a little closer to you. “And no, she just sat down with me beneath this big, shiny tree and just lectured me for what felt like hours—it was actually much, much worse than being eaten.”

You laughed a bit too loudly at the image his words provoked, which incurred Doyoung to hush you. “Keep it down...!”

“Or what,” you snickered, rubbing your eyes, “I’ll wake the real dinosaur and then she can lecture you for real?”

“Aish, shut up!” he whined at your childish teasing, but this time your giggles didn’t stop. Rolling his eyes, he decided to take the opportunity and rolled over so he could press a kiss to your lips. Chaste and quick, he’d hoped it would do the job, as he feared what a deeper kiss would do to his system—he could get lost in you so easily after all. For a few moments you settled into a amused silence, and he smiled in relief, hovering above you.

Unfortunately, it didn’t quite last.

“Is that all you’ve got? For the love of your life?” you pestered, smirking proudly. “A tiny peck to make me be quiet? When I know you’re capable of much more? Doyoung, quite frankly, I am ashamed!”

He guffawed, his lips smushing together in humourous indignance, before he let himself take revenge and tackle you into a deeper kiss. Your noses brushed as you met his lips, this time much hotter and deeper. Practically straddling you, your body was engulfed in warmth as Doyoung reached up to hold your cheek with a cold hand. The contrast made you squeak at the sudden iciness, but it only led him to sink into the kiss more.

Clutching at his shirt, you felt your laughter die down and a more comfortable haziness settle into your bones. You slowly slipped your hands up across his lithe waist, across his torso, toned yet supple beneath your fingers, finally knotting your hands behind his neck. He shuddered at your caresses of his chest, dropping onto his side so he could rest but hold you closer—his predominant aim, as he couldn’t sink into you how he wished with space between you. And so his hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and traced calligraphy into your skin. The movement was so tender, but it did startle you, leading you to hum into his touch as you instead wrung your hand in the soft tresses of his hair.

Gradually you pulled away, your breathing slightly laboured and your lips plump from his ministrations; despite how he presented himself, Doyoung knew exactly how to steal your breath away, and he didn’t fail to do so. You gazed at him lovingly in the dim light, the auburn from the lamp beyond you revealing his flushed cheeks—reminding you of what you could do to him no less too. Slowly dipping in to kiss him once more, your touch ebbed with lethargy, he murmured as he pulled away, “Are you a little more tired now?”

“A little,” you admitted, letting yourself fall away from him and into the pillow. He nodded, feeling successful and proud but nonetheless exhausted himself. Reaching across he dipped into kiss your cheek, coming to rest just beside you. Meanwhile necessity implored you to seek cooler air to finally settle into sleep and so you rolled to face away from him, eyelids already feeling heavier again.

He hummed in acknowledgement, satisfied with the results he’d earnt, and joined you, his arms wrapping around you as he took the role of the big spoon. Nestling his nose into your neck, he whispered, “Goodnight love.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, closing your eyes and willing yourself into the world of sleep at last.

~~~

AN: I don’t like it. I don’t think it ended well. I’m sorry, I had to write it fast, I’ll edit it one day I promise.

I also just realised this isn’t very christmassy. That being said, I wasn’t in a very christmassy mood when i wrote this so it’s no surprise really Sorry :((

Check out my other stuff it is undoubtedly much better lol

EDIT: ok so, this was pretty bad when I first wrote it, but like, now it’s much much better. I think? I feel the tone is very different though.

still don’t feel the end is amazing but I’ve got bigg bois to write so this will do for now I think. hope this does doyoung a better service than the original did

[edited: 12th April 2020]

Masterlist

#doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #doyoung fluff #doyoung x reader #doyoung christmas #nct #doyoung oneshot #im so sorry doyoung i dont want to let you down

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nobeliumoxygenoxygenmisc · 6 years ago

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Kagaminette headcanons

just a few headcanons i came up with because i love these two too much ajskjask someone send help (also my first time doing headcanon things so I hope they’re good??)

Ships: kagami x marinette and some adrien x nino

first of all, they definitely indulge in each other's hobbies

kagami teaches marinette fencing and a bit of martial arts because "you never know when you might need to defend yourself" and when mari is better than she expected she's just ten times more impressed but also "how did you get so good?? those skills are not beginners luck" and mari just...sweatdrops

but they have a few fencing rounds together and yes kagami defeats her every single time but mari is surprisingly decent so it's not too one-sided. it's thanks to her superb reflexes

of course, when they stop and kagami runs a hand through her hair mari melts and is like ohhhhhh no she's hot

kagami knows what she's doing come on this girl never hesitates

and when it comes to fashion, mari helps style her girlfriend for events where she's usually the plus one herself

she always makes kagami shine though and kagmai's always like "hey save the best clothes for yourself" "nope they're definitely yours"

kagami is the best model in marinette's opinion

she's unnervingly still when mari takes measurements and mari is so thankful for it until she looks up and meets kagami's intense gaze and is like oh no she's hot x2

kagami is just thinking "how is she so cute when she's focused oh my god stop great just great she's bleping she's bleping like a cat"

she barely even notices mari's noticed her but really even if she did, she wouldn't care because like...this girl is sure of herself and loves any opportunity to fluster marinette

sometimes tho, kagami talks about ladybug when ladybug and chat noir do a particularly great save that day

and she unintentionally goes on - well not on and on but mari knows her well enough to know when kagami really respects and admires someone

and when kagami talks more than like, five minutes about ladybug, mari just slowly gets more and more flustered

warning bells are ringing and of course tikki in her purse can hear it but she's not worried about anything other than marinette's obvious flustered reaction. it's quite funny

kagami notices and is like "oh i didn't mean anything mari. you're the only one i have eyes for" and mari's not sure if it's better or worse that kagami thinks she's jealous of...well...herself

still she finds it amusing that her 'competition' is .... well. herself once more

kagami is a flirt too

they go on another ice skating date this time with just the two of them and the ice rink is much more crowded but it's fine because kagami's got her hand in mari's or her arm around her waist and she spins mari a lot and gives her a lot of intense stares

And if its a movie date kagami doesnt even bother with the yawning trick she just wraps her arm around maris shoulders nonchalantly and basically forgets her arm is there but mari does NOT forget poor girl is burning up and then kags is like "are u okay mari?" And she takes her arm off to better turn to her and mari is like "yep im fine totally fine!!!" But inside shes like "..pls..put ur arm back.."

mari hates and loves it because half the time spent on dates is just her blustering and blushing

but

on the rare ocassion that mari gets kagami flustered

oohhhh boy

kagami is Shocked and she's thinking "thank you lord that this girl is my girlfriend how did i get such an amazing girlfriend thank you" and she tries to hide her shock but it's not working

mari is sooo proud of herself in those moments

she's thinking "i actually made her flustered omg!!!"

tho really, it was all alya's idea - alya's pick up lines and 'training'

alya: girl we need to get your flirting game up

mari: i...really dont think we need to

alya: hustle up. alya's flirting lessons one oh one have begun

it's a mess of smolders and smirks and two-eyed winking but by the end, alya's lessons pay off and mari pulls off a smolder that gets kagami fuming in love

on the other hand, kagami is the one to give lessons to adrien

"first lesson, adrien. learn to figure out if they're just a friend or more than that for god's sake"

adrien is SufferingTM

kagami offers firm advice but... this boy doesn't really... want to use any of it

and his firm insistence that "nino is just a friend!!!" just makes kagami want to rip her hair out

but when adrien and nino finally start going out, the two fencers talk about their significant others loads during matches

it's a mess

"marinette made me another scarf today it's so cute" kagami says as she thrusts forward with her sabre

"really??? that's great!! nino made me a playlist of songs. i still don't understand how he gets them to be so right" adrien replies as he flips backwards in the air to dodge (because he obviously can)

the rest of the class stares in wonder

and if mari and nino come to watch

if it's mari there, kagami defeats adrien effortlessly and vice versa if it's nino

oh but heaven help if they both come

they did once

and the two were so desperate to Impress that the match went on forever. it was more intense than the first one they ever did

mari and nino both pledge never to watch together again

also concerning lila and chloe and stuff

Kagami does Not Tolerate Any Of Their Crap

if they so as much as glance in mari’s direction wrong, she’s whipping out her sabre that she keeps somewhere because reasons and mari’s like nooonn onono it’s okay

hell hath no fury like kagami when she learns that lila threatened mari ooh boy

(and this is since i believe that chloe would have gotten a better redemption arc if well...certain people had cared about the storyline and actual character development)

so even after chloe is ‘redeemed’ and working to become a better person and even if marinette is like “it’s okay now kagami. that’s all in the past!!” kagami does not trust her yet

if they have a group outing kagami subtly makes it that chloe stays on the opposite end and that the two are never left alone

but she really makes sure that no one is left alone with chloe because marinette’s friends are...welllll not really her friends too, but marinette’s friends are people to care about at least

so kagami’s a bit protective but when she knows the extent of how much marinette is used for her kindness she’s just....she does not want her girlfriend to be used anymore

they help each other in that account

kagami helps marinette be a bit more ‘selfish’ and learn to put her happiness equal, if not in front of other’s happiness and to ‘never hesitate’ and marinette helps kagami to be a bit warmer to those she’s just met and have had a bad first impression on and to wait things out a bit just in case because whilst never hesitating may be good sometimes it’s not good for all things

so from what we’ve seen i think we can gather that kagami’s family is like, high pressure and all?? if that’s the word because of kagami saying stuff like “second chances don’t exist in my family” and all (i’m paraphrasing tho...oof reminds me of adrien too much. are all the rich families in miraculous just gonna have bad homes....)

so i think when kagami meets tom and sabine she’s shocked

she hides it well but it’s so....different from home... especially when they all have snacks in the lounge and they all eat on the couch whilst talking and it’s so informal but so....nice

and kagami learns a bit of baking

she’s stiff at first because it gets messy

and marinette notices a bit of dough on kagami’s face and it’s so out of place from her girlfriend’s usual neatness that she just laughs and kagami starts to laugh as well and it finally breaks the tension in her and then baking becomes fun and they do it like every week because kagami lowkey demands to do it and she buys all the ingredients herself

they make some new products for the bakery actually!! after a lot of experimentation and adjustments, tom and sabine find one of their cake recipes too good to hide away

and the two spend a whole afternoon trying to name it

or more like, kagami puts in loads of suggestions because again she never hesitates (im sorry i mention that too many times) and that’s great for brainstorming and all but half her suggestions are.....

“the sabre” “will people actually...eat something like that...”

“the ladybug” “the cake isn’t even red and black themed!”

“the marinette” “no” “!! why not??” “...why”

in the end, they name it something relating to chat noir because it’s chocolate and dark enough to pass as black

kagami secretly sulks because she really wanted to honour ladybug

(chat is ecstatic and was once seen buying a whole cake of it. nadja had lots to report that day)

so marinette responds with helping her make a ladybug themed cake

both of the cakes become a hit with birthday parties

and marinette would never have realised how much trouble it would’ve actually brought her

because when chat made one appearance at a party using his cake, paris went wild

it was never spoken aloud but then ladybug was expected to show up so now she and chat have ‘surprise’ appearances at parties - not all of them of course but they make an effort and marinette knows when a party is happening because the parents obviously get the cake from their bakery

kagami is lowkey so happy though that something she made had such an impact and connection with ladybug

mari is so happy seeing her girlfriend happy but they are not doing that again

#miraculous ladybug #kagami tsurugi #marinette dupain cheng #kagaminette #marigami #marinette x kagami #kaganette #kagami x marinette #kagami tsurugi x marinette dupain cheng #my work #headcanons #th sksks this posted before it was ready #fhsjlakfkald never using the app again

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hecallsmehischild · 6 years ago

Text

Recent Media Consumed

Books

Divorce and Remarriage in the Church by David Instone-Brewer. Before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, no, I’m absolutely not considering this. Friend is going through this and said it should be a general read in the Christian community because it also teaches theology and what questions you ask when reading the Bible, and how not to say things like, “Well, guess you can never get remarried,” to your friend going through divorce because it isn’t true. That prelude being said... I’m still not done yet, but I’m at least 3/4 through and it is blowing my mind almost every chapter and I will be reading this book aloud and posting it to Youtube, as I’ve been doing with other books recently, because it’s THAT important.

A Map of Days by Ransom Riggs. I’m not entirely sure what to think of this book. It definitely made me feel better about the too-many-coincidences-helping-our-heroes-out issues of the previous book. I think I’ll trek with this series a bit longer (she says, having come to the end of the book which cliffhangers off, promising ANOTHER in the works).

Watership Down by Richard Adams. I read this book a few times as a child and then again as highschool required reading (I was mortally offended when classmates referred to it as “the bunny book” as if it was some cute little hoppity hop hop fluff novel). It’s pretty much how I remembered it. Gritty. Puts you in with rabbits and the mindset of the animal (can’t really count higher than four, get to know each other through touch and smell and breathing rate and play, revere stories of tricksters, etc) and is overall a wonderful and absorbing read. I also greatly appreciate the inclusion of a glossary of terms in the back whenever the text doesn’t immediately explain a word. 2/3 through my re-read and it’s a comforting book to go through again, after all these years. My copy doesn’t even have a front cover anymore and the back cover is dogged and all the pages are near-brown and all the swear words are blotted out from my super puritanical phase where I wanted to censor all my books as a teen. It’s a lovely relic of bygone days and a comforting read. Though now I’m irritated at myself for all the blotted out words jarring me out of a good reading flow.

On Deck: Trauma Stewardship by Laura Van Dernoot Lipskey and Connie Burk.

Shows

Watership Down (Netflix). (before re-reading the book) I guess this could be classed as “miniseries” or “very long movie broken into four parts”. Last time I read Watership Down was in high school for assigned reading, though I had already read it as a morbid little kid and loved it. I can’t remember all details, but whoever made this show quite obviously loved the source material. It does similar things as the book, like dumping you into the rabbits’ vocabulary without explaining and allowing you to pick up what things mean as you watch (or hoping you read the book and already understand the words). Nothing rings very false to what I remembered. This is a well done adaptation. It’s a little hard to distinguish most of the rabbits from each other, but stepping back and watching with a general comprehension (instead of getting absolutely stuck on figuring out which rabbit is which) is useful in this case. Overall? Good watch. (revision of opinion post re-reading the book, see above point) So I’m starting to see where the Netflix version took a bit of a left turn. It did a fairly good job, though actually the book didn’t drop us into the terminology as sharply as I thought I remembered. The thing that stands out to me the most is that Netflix brought more females to the front of the story and that does actually bother me to a certain extent, and here’s why: where is the sense in dropping human morality onto an animal STORY? An animal FABLE is a whole different kettle of fish. An animal FABLE is like Animal Farm, where animal characters are intended to stand in for human counterparts to deliver hard truths. An animal STORY is like Watership Down or The Promise of the Wolves or Venus Among the Fishes and all stories that take place WITHIN the animal world as if we, the reader, are experiencing things from the animal point of view entirely. In the book, Watership Down, the female rabbits (does) are looked on mostly as acquisitions to be made and are not very plot relevant beyond that, but this is understandable because, simply, they are animals. This isn’t about human morality, this is about prey mammals figuring out survival, both day to day survival and survival of their warren. To this end, the males (bucks) do most of the planning and fighting and trickstering wherein lies the action of Watership Down. By bringing the does to the forefront, it feels like Netflix was trying to shoehorn in some human morality because saying otherwise would be distasteful to people watching. But. It’s. About. Animals. So this is a bit of a sticking point for me that does bother me. However, overall, I saw nothing that truly gutted the heart of the book and still consider it worth a watch.

Steven Universe: The Recent Upheavals. I don’t know. I love the new fusion designs. I absolutely adored That Scene (got chills when he shouted). But I’m not sure how I feel about a lot of the rest. Very conflicted.

Ditched after one episode list: Dragon Pilot (Netflix), Last Hope (Netflix).

Movies

Albion: The Enchanted Stallion. Okay, I guess? Writing was kind of mediocre, but another one where they were obviously trying with beautiful sets and costumes.

Shrek. It’s been a long time but it was a good rewatch. The gross stuff always gets to me a bit, but the thing is they built it to be totally in character and part of this creature’s fairytale existence which earns it more points. Shrek has always been one of the most loving fairytale deconstruction mockery movies and now I want to rewatch the second one because I remember it being superior in every way to an already wonderful first movie.

The Prince of Egypt. It’s been a long time. I was struck again how beautiful certain songs on that soundtrack are (any of the large chorus songs and the Heaven’s Eyes song especially) and the utter despair of coming to repeated dead ends, but how in spite of that, no. God was always there. I have a million questions about why the dead ends and heart-hardening was necessary in the first place BUT. God was still always there. And the Jews exist to this day. This movie isn’t, of course, completely accurate but it is beautiful and it reminded me of things I needed reminding about.

Games

Life is Strange 2, chapter 1. Conflicted on a couple of points. Character Caricatures don’t sit well with me in general. But it’s beautiful and gripping and I’m looking forward to continuing with chapter 2 soon.

#n00b gamer child #child loves books #child loves movies

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britneyshakespeare · 6 years ago

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top 5 britney spears songs, top 5 female marvel characters, top 5 movies

i just did 5 britney songs here but since i love my mom i’ll do 5 more i definitely got it in me

don’t go knockin’ on my door GOD IF THIS SONG DOESNT MAKE ME WANNA PUNCH EVERY MAN IN THE FACE and that’s a quality i fuckin love in a song, that’s all i need to say on that

the hook up ANOTHER ONE FROM IN THE ZONE THAT EVERYONE FORGETS ABOUT but it’s so goddamn irresistible, it just jumps from line to line and britney’s voice fits it perfectly, she carries it w exactly the swagger it is due, people give britney shit for her singing voice (which considering she’s naturally an alto and sings in a soprano range most of the time, she really deserves more credit for if you ask me), but it is undeniable she knows how to deliver her lines like an actress, and that’s a damn important quality in a pop diva that gets overlooked in the pop discourse

the beat goes on okay another cover and i named two in the last one, but she does covers really damn well. the way it closes an otherwise quintessentially bubblegum pop album w an avant-garde electropop song is brilliant. it certainly hinted at things to come, pushing borders of contemporary pop music. and it suited baby brit SO well.

perfume i constantly think back on all the missed opportunities of britney jean era, i’m still not over it. it’s been 5 years i really should be but i’m not. but this song really could’ve used better promotion, it’s one of my favorite britney ballads, and one of the few songs in her own discography where she gets to sing in an alto range!!! she sounds GREAT and to her it’s a very personal song and i respect it deeply

coupureélectrique i have nothing to say about this entire album other than that in 2016, y’all were either with us (the loyal gays who supported glory) or against us. this album deserves so much more love like every britney fan cherished it immediately even the fans who were let down by britney jean and afraid to trust again but the rest of the population was just crickets. a shame too she worked w so many talented female songwriters and producers, bc mom understands the importance of uplifting women not just as starlets but behind the scene producing the music being marketed to women. bless. oh and she sings in french which is extremely welcomed.

top 5 female marvel characters:

jennifer walters/she-hulk, i love her so much. she’s so underrated i’m so upset that the mcu has yet to even touch the subject of her, her characterization is so strong and much more interesting than bruce’s if you ask me, she’s hardly the same creature as bruce banner but since she’s a female spin-off character people assume she’s this lame character w poor characterization when ever since john byrne took the action comedy spin on her book w the sensational she-hulk in the 80s, she became marvel’s wisecracking fourth-wall-breaker before deadpool even existed, not to mention she’s unapologetically feminine while wielding masculine powers for which she doesn’t suffer any consequences which is so different not just for female characters in all of fiction but especially in her genre and time of conception. actually. no. lemme use this video to illustrate my thesis bc it does it much more eloquently than i can at this moment blasting britney in my pajamas. but yes, jennifer walters is one of my absolute favorite characters in fiction.

oh i just realized i can do non-superheroes. this is kind of obvious coming from me but *clears throat* mary jane fucking watson. she works as a wonderful complex supporting character and i love how her relationship w peter parker isn’t just rewarded to him but they both go through so much character development alongside each other, but it’s not entirely dependent on each other. she’s such an important piece in just about all good spider-man stories that have come after her inception. i love mj. but i’ve gone off about it many times before.

kamala khan/ms. marvel. a newbie but such a good and relatable and important character, already, especially for someone who didn’t even exist 5 years ago. i love what she means for teenage girls in comics, for muslim/brown representation. i love the cultural references infused into her books, it makes it all feel so much more authentic. i love how human all her supporting characters are. i love g. willow wilson’s sense of humor. but i feel like she’s rightfully acknowledged for being the groundbreaking character she is so i don’t need to write any more on that right now, i don’t think.

jean grey. comics only, i haven’t seen any of the xmen movies, whoops. basically i used to live vicariously through her when i was younger bc she looks like me and telepathy has always been my dream power of all powers, and i love her character history, she’s so complicated for a female character who began as just a simple good girl of the team type of tropey character. i think she’s a prime example of how interesting and convoluted comic book continuity can be and how retcons and arcs seemingly out of nowhere can be done well and how they can add to the characterization of a formerly bland character and benefit the story, how to utilize the underutilized.

dazzler. i don’t think she’s actually one of my favorite female marvel characters but you gotta give major props to a character whose superpowers are literally to be a disco queen. yeah it was very much trend-hopping in the 70s on behalf of the marvel staff but they’ve made it work in some very interesting ways in the year, again i’ll redirect you to a youtube video about her and also this photo

top 5 movies

hmmm i always say the spider-man trilogy (2002-2007), but it’s true and i should say it

i’ve really loved rebel without a cause (1955) since i started my james dean obsession/non-phase when i was in eighth grade. and i really see why a lot about this movie and james dean as a character resonated w me at that age and continues to hit home, i mean, he’s sort of an embodiment of pent up teen angst and feeling misunderstood and out of touch w oneself at the same time, like a walking contradiction. i feel like james dean was one of my first paradoxical role models that i’d continue to build my identity around in my teen years. but i mumble. this really is a great movie w an interesting story to tell, it’s not just coming of age sleeze, it’s really damn well-written, well-acted, and well-directed.

the day gentlemen prefer blondes (1953) fails to make me smile is the day it all ends, man. i’m so attached to that movie, not just because it’s great (though it is), but it’s just one of my comfort movies. i’m always in the mood to watch it. it’s not even the best film marilyn’s in but how can one not love it, you know?

american psycho (2000) is really damn well remembered for a reason. it adapts a difficult and abstract novel with complicated themes and characterization in the best possible way it can, mary herron doesn’t get enough credit for that. bret easton ellis gets his recognition as the author of the book it’s based off of but i don’t think people talk enough about just how well herron pulled it off. the book has chapters spread throughout of just incomprehensible character building in the most skeptical ways, the way patrick always describes what he is wearing in exhausting detail, as well as the wardrobe of every single person around him at all times. the chapters where he just out-of-the-blue gives his reviews of contemporary popular music. his materialism fixation. his unintelligible babbling. patrick bateman’s a character that by all rules of film shouldn’t be able to be adapted to film as well as he is in this movie. i can honestly only think of one or two details from the book i wish weren’t cut, out of such a long and meandering character study of a novel. it’s really, really a gem.

a fool there was (1915) bc theda bara is my original goth gf and she really fucks it up in this film. i love silent horror films so much, especially ones where rich men are corrupted. oh yeah. that’s just a personal niche though. but it is a good film.

ask me for my top 5 anything

#THANK YOU julia im sorry i spent so much time bbabling i had a lot to say though #doitforparamore #dianswered

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