#but i didn’t go on the camping trip because i was a loner and i had exactly zero friends in my class | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cutegayorc · 2 years ago

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Adopted by a Werewolf Chapter 2

So I promise that every other chapter won't just be the same events from a different perspective. It's just the one time thing for random lore exposition. Again, please feel free to comment what you thought. I love getting comments. Makes the dopamine in my head go up. Editors credits below.

Perky: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/perk0/ Lan the Orc: https://lantheorc.sofurry.com/

Link to chapter 1

Jeremiah didn’t like the idea of heading to his long abandoned home town. Bright Rock was not a place filled with happy memories. But he was the only Head who wasn’t busy with other business. Plus leaving a found Sensitive for possession was not an option. So homeward bound he was. The trip was not far, so he traveled light. A pack of his travel clothes, camping gear and cart with his trusty donkey, Beatrice. There was also some emergency gear that he really didn’t think he would need but his family had insisted it was better to be safe than sorry.

Instead of heading to the main entrance of the city, Jeremiah veered into the forest. Staying in a hotel in the city was too risky since he might be recognized. The less time he spent there the better. So he found a nice clearing in the forest. Deep enough to be hidden but not so deep that making it back to the city on foot would be a chore. After setting up camp, he made his way to the city. The Watcher would be waiting for him and he had arrived sooner than expected.

The walk to the Watchers’ cabin was familiar. It was the same as when he last saw it. Sure, some of the trees had grown taller but the old decrepit cabin was still there. He hesitated, readying himself for what was going to be an awkward situation.

He knocked.

An old man came to the door.

“Holy shit.” The old man said. “I was not expecting to see you here ever again.”

“Nice to see you, Elder. It’s been a while.” Jeremiah said, trying to stay polite. “I was the only Head available. But I promise to be quick.”

“You better be. If your father finds out, he’s going to be pissed.” The Watcher said. He walked further into his shack, motioning for Jeremiah to follow.

“That man is not my father. Not anymore,” Jeremiah said, crouching down to fit in the door. “Besides, it will harm the treaty if he does anything stupid . But I will try to remain discreet.”

“Ugh. Stupid werewolves and your weird culture. The man’s your father whether you like it or not. Just because someone turns you into a wolf doesn’t mean the identity of your parents changes.”

The shack was filled with shelves of different herbs, flowers and jars with unknown contents. A table in the corner was piled high with apothecary tools and the floor was nothing more than dirt packed down from being walked on for years.

“I’m not here to argue. The sooner you give me the Sensitive’s info, the sooner I will leave,” Jeremiah pointed out. He was going to take a seat but realized the only chair there was next to the apothecary table and didn’t look like it would support his weight. So he crouched down and waited.

“He’s a little tall. Not as tall as you but taller than most. Light brown hair. Looks sad and mopey all the time. Just turned eighteen a couple of months ago. God, how I hate the youth.”

“You hate everything.” Jeremiah interjected.

“I hate the youth a lot more than I hate most others though.”

The Watcher entered a door in the back corner. Jeremiah did not follow, opting to wait by the entrance. The sound of clutter being thrown about crashed through the shack before he finally returned with a pair of glasses and a stack of papers.

“He’s a cadet at the guard academy,” The Watcher said. His spectacles sat at the edge of his nose while looking over his notes. “Seems to be a loner from what I can tell. Likes to frequent the pub on the weekends. Also spends a lot of time out in the forest. Didn’t follow him when he went into the woods. God knows what I would have seen. Do you know what happens when young men wander off to be alone? Masturbation! Filthy! Disgusting!”

“You don’t say. Which pub does he frequent?”

“The shit one by the academy. Mad Eyes is the name.” The Watcher waived his hand dismissively.

“Do you think he’ll be there tonight?”

“Let’s hope so, it’s the only place he loiters about that allows for interaction without suspicion. Unless you want to catch him in the woods. That’s what you gay guys do, right? Meet up in the woods and jack off?”

Jeremiah growled a warning at the Watcher.

“Watch it.” Jeremiah said. “Just because you were my elder does not mean I will stand for lupophobia and homophobia.”

The Watcher did not look impressed.

“I’ve given you what you wanted, werewolf. Unless you are here to buy one of my potions, I’m going to need you to leave. I recommend the fleas-be-gone potion for your kind.”

Jeremiah snapped his teeth in the Watcher’s direction but took no further action against the old man. He left the shack, not bothering to close the door behind him. The door slammed shut behind him.

---

It was late evening on the last night of the week. Jeremiah headed towards the old town district where the academy was stationed. The old town was the part of the city occupied by the semi well-off. They were not rich enough to live in the new district but not poor enough to live in the slums. Whereas the new district looked fancy and clean, the old town felt alive and well lived in. The streets during the day were filled with vendors, delivery men and newsies. At night, the city guard walked the streets keeping the less desirable elements sequestered to the slums. At that late in the afternoon, most were at home with family. But a few hit the taverns and pubs for a good drink. Or a bad drink. Sometimes the destination of getting drunk was more important than how you got there.

The Crazy Eyes wasn’t anything fancy. It catered to the city guard, the cadets and the few who lived nearby. Jeremiah stepped inside and took a quick look around. Sitting in the back was a large group of cadets acting rowdy and rude. Everyone sitting around them appeared annoyed but no one seemed interested in standing up and doing something about it.

Jeremiah stepped to the side for a second and closed his eyes, trying to see if he could feel the pull of a nearby Sensitive. He felt the pull immediately. Whoever they were, they gave off a strong pull and would need to extract them quickly.. It wouldn’t be long before a demon or ghost would find him and possess them if they weren’t careful. Jeremiah scented the air to try and pinpoint the location. Sensitives had a certain scent. It turned him towards the bar. Sitting alone was another cadet nursing an ale. He was the only one sitting at the bar.

Jeremiah took the seat next to the loan cadet. The young man didn’t seem to notice his presence. Whatever was going on in his head had him too preoccupied to pay attention to anybody. Not even when the barkeep took his drink order for a single glass of white wine.

“Mother fucking…shit mouthed…” the Young Man whispered to himself. It would have been too quiet for most to have heard. Jeremiah’s werewolf ears heard it all clear as day. The cursing continued on and off for a couple of minutes. Jeremiah soon grew bored with it and decided to intervene.

“You look like you’ve got a thorn stuck in your paw, Lad. Care to share your woes?” Jeremiah said. The Sensitive looked confused at first. Then he turned his head and saw Jeremiah. His eyes went wide when he saw the huge man that had somehow snuck up on him. Jeremiah was used to people reacting in this way to his extreme height. But to the Sensitive’s credit, they tried to cover their surprise quickly.

“Sorry, sir.” He said to Jeremiah. “Don’t mind me. Just a long day.” He looked away from Jeremiah back to his drink.

“I’m surprised you’re not over there with the other young bucks,” Jeremiah asked, trying to draw the other man back into the conversation. He needed to create a rapport with the young man. It would make convincing the Sensitive of what he was and why it was so important to leave much easier. “Most cadets at the academy stay pretty tightly knitted together.”

The young man stiffened up and looked back at the man with suspicion.

“How did you know I was a cadet?”

Jeremiah made a mental note. This one is not quick to trust others. Will have to be careful not to offend in some way. Will make extraction a bitch if I can’t win his trust.

“You’re still wearing your training uniform. As are they.” Jeremiah said.

“Oh.” he said back. He looked down at himself like he just realized he had still been wearing his uniform. “I’m fine. I’m happier alone.”

Jeremiah heard the Sensitive heartbeat quicken for a second. He was lying. He definitely was not happier alone. Jeremiah could play off that if needed. He felt a little gross about having to think about manipulating someone else. But it was for the Sensitive’s own good.

“Then why have you been mumbling obscenities into your mug?” Jeremiah said, trying to keep the accusatory comment light and playful. It worked, the man gave a half smile out of the corner of his mouth.

“Heard that, huh?” he said.

“I did,” Jeremiah said back. “It does the body no good to let such thoughts fester. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jeremiah pushed a little bit of the Wild into his last sentence. To make it a command. Something that the man would have trouble resisting. He tried to keep the pressure small so that it wouldn’t be noticeable.

“It’s nothing. I’m just a little frustrated at my Commander.” the man said. “I got in a fight with another cadet. He’s been saying things about me. I lost my temper and punched him. Got in trouble. Was forced to give an apology I didn’t mean. But when I asked for an apology back, I was told I didn’t deserve it.”

The Sensitive took a sip of his ale before continuing.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Must have had one too many tonight.” He began to stand up. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

“You’re not a bother,” Jeremiah said, trying to keep the Sensitive from leaving. “I was the one who asked. Is the shit talker here tonight?”

“Yeah.” The man said, sitting back down.

“I’m surprised the guard hasn’t been called to deal with them yet,” Jeremiah said. “Trash like that would have been better off staying in their daddy’s balls.”

The man started to cough as he choked on his drink. He seemed to be recovering quickly though. He began to laugh. Something about that laugh made his inner wolf take notice. That was not something Jeremiah was expecting.

“Don’t say stuff like that when I’m drinking,” the cadet said. “That’s funny though. I’m going to have to remember that one.”

“You’re welcome to it,” Jeremiah said. He smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. Now to plant a seed. Something to make it easier for him to leave. He took a sip of the wine he had ordered earlier but mostly ignored. He was the type to distrust authority. That would be his plan of attack. “What are you going to do about it?”

“About what? The rowdy ones back there?”

“No. You’re not responsible for their actions. I meant about your Commander. He’s letting a member of his team talk disparagingly about another member of the unit. Doesn’t bode well for morale. Doesn’t lead to a cohesive unit. Thought about asking to be transferred to another team?”

The Sensitive didn’t respond right away. He began to look over his shoulder before leaning in closer. Jeremiah leaned in as well.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to toughen up.” The Sensetive’s heartbeat stuttered again. Another lie. Another mental note. He either makes a habit of lying about what he believes in to get out of having a difficult conversation or he’s a people pleaser who will throw himself under the bus. Jeremiah wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“You don’t believe that. Try again.” Jeremiah said.

“It’s not a good idea to talk badly about a commanding officer. Besides, it would be the same with any other unit I got transferred to. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this stuff.”

The Sensitive downed his ale and started to stand up again. Jeremiah held up his hand and grabbed the man’s shoulder to hold him in place. The moment he made contact with him, Jeremiah felt his wolf half jump with joy. Jeremiah’s own heart rate began to spike. He had to concentrate to not let the shift start to happen. Jeremiah had to admit that there was a chance this Sensitive was compatible with the powers of the shifter. He tried not to think that far ahead though. First they needed to establish a connection and convince him to leave. To get him somewhere safe.

“It’s because I asked. You don’t have to apologize for speaking your truth to me when I was the one who requested the info.” Jeremiah rubbed his shoulder to try and calm the young man down. He was then surprised to find that the Sensitive’s heart rate suddenly jumped from the touch. He took a quick test sniff and scented arousal. The man was attracted to him. Suddenly his inner wolf’s attention made a little more sense. He tried not to let himself get too distracted by this though, even though the little moan his little friend made under his breath drove both Jeremiah’s human and wolf sides crazy.

“Tell me, why did you join the guard?” Jeremiah asked, trying to get himself back on track. Adding a bit of the Wild in to try and regain control but accidentally using way too much.

“It was my only option. Family kicked me out and I don’t have the skills to apprentice anywhere.” The man responded quickly.

Jeremiah cursed to himself, letting himself lose control of his power like that. He shouldn’t be making such rookie mistakes. As he tried to get control of the situation, the smell of arousal increased and Jeremiah looked down to see that his new friend had a rather large bump in his trousers where his crotch was. The Sensitive must have noticed too as he suddenly leaned forward to hide it, trying to pretend he was just leaning on the bar. Jeremiah couldn’t help but to give a low chuckle that came out more as a growl. His wolf was not going to let his human half take charge. It wanted in on the conversation and it was very hungry for attention. Jeremiah needed to cut this short and fast unless the bar wanted to see him suddenly grow a large amount of hair in a very short amount of time.

“I’m sure you felt that it was your only option. But I’m sure another opportunity will present itself. Maybe try to keep an open mind.” Jeremiah said before giving the man’s shoulder one final squeeze before forcing himself to let go. He pulled out some coins and dropped a pile on the table. It would be more than enough to pay for both his and the Sensitive’s drinks. The rest would be a tip. He didn’t have the concentration to bother counting.

“This should cover the boy’s drink.” Jeremiah said to the bartender to let him know the wine and ale were on him. “Name’s Jerimiah by the way. What’s yours?” He said to the Sensitive.

“Rodrig.” he said.

“It was nice to meet you, Rodrig. Hopefully we will meet again soon.” Jeremiah said and left to leave. He made sure to try not to run out of the establishment but he needed to be gone and quick. He could already feel his nails starting to extend into claws. He ducked his head to leave out the door. The moment he was out of sight of the bar, he ducked into an alley and gave out an exasperated growl.

There was no question about it. The Sensitive had a high compatibility with shifters. He had to dig his claws into his hands to keep from running back and slinging the young man over his shoulder. If the other Head’s hear about that, he would be in deep shit. They would accuse him of hoarding the new Sensitive without giving him a chance to choose where he belonged. He pulled back on the wolf with promises of soon. Be patient. We can’t claim him without his permission. Wouldn’t be right. It calmed down somewhat. At least enough to pull back his shift so that he looked more human again. He brought the hood of his traveler’s cloak up. He needed to make himself scarce. Leave the city and let his wolf out for a run. He made his way to the city

limits towards his campsite. Hopefully, Beatrice the donkey had stayed out of trouble.

---

Beatrice had long since been desensitized to humans suddenly changing to wolves and vice-versa. Plus everything in between. So when Jeremiah stripped naked after setting out some food for her and suddenly turned into a wolf that stood a donkey’s head bigger than her, she did not seem impressed. In fact, she seemed downright bored. She went back to eating her food, turning her back to the predator. Beatrice was sassy like that.

When in wolf form, Jeremiah’s human mind took a back seat. When fully shifted, he was letting the wolf spirit that shared his soul and body take over. He could still give suggestions, like stay away from the city. He could still understand sentences, even though he was no longer capable of saying anything back. It had been a while since the spirit had a chance to drive so it quickly took full advantage of the situation. Running. Smelling. Hunting. He caught a rabbit and quickly feasted. The warm blood and meat tasted good to his more animal body. It also meant Jeremiah could save his travel rations for another night.

Going wolf also gave him the opportunity to sniff out any rogue elements that might be lurking in the city. Or at least on its outskirts. His hometown had seen better days since he had been run out of town. The slums were flooded with the smell of angry spirits. If Rodrig ever went through there, he would most likely end up possessed by an angry spirit. He returned to his camp before the spirits noticed his presence. The undead were not a big fan of other supernaturals approaching their haunts.

When he made it back to camp, he stretched his wolf body before allowing himself to change back into human. His naked body now stood where the wolf had. The night air felt good against his skin since shifting often led to him feeling overheated. He slipped into his tent and got under the covers. He would need a fresh start tomorrow if he was going to keep tabs on his target.

—-

The next morning after giving Beatrice a short walk through the woods, Jeremiah headed back towards town. He wore his traveler's cloak with the hood up again and stayed in the back streets and alleys, making his way towards the guard academy. The last time he visited here, it was to inspect the school and make sure it was up to snuff. If he was being honest, he had no idea what he was looking for back then. Now as he approached the practice field, staying in the shadows, he could tell that it was mediocre at best.

Instructors were more likely to scream at their students than actually teach them . There was also definite favoritism. The equipment was in disrepair. Overall, the graduates would be ill prepared to do their job of protecting the city. But that wasn’t why Jeremiah was here. That was no longer his responsibility. Rodrig was and it didn’t take Jeremiah long to spot him.

Rodrig was standing off to the side. Jeremiah wasn’t sure if he would call what Rodrig was doing “practicing”. The form was stiff and his attention was less on the movements he was making and more on making sure no one was watching him. Based on what Jeremiah was seeing with the other cadets unlucky enough to earn the attention of the instructors, it was pretty easy to figure out why Rodrig would be looking over his shoulder.

A few moments later, one of the instructors screamed Rodrig’s name.

The instructor's coat was decorated with multiple patches indicating he was of a higher rank. He was surrounded by students who all did their best to kiss his ass while the rest stayed far away. Rodrig was stiff as he marched over. When the screaming began, Jeremiah wasn’t surprised. What did surprise Jeremiah was the subject of the instructor's interrogation.

The instructor asked Rodrig about the “mysterious man” that had approached him the night before. Jeremiah felt a bit of panic grab at his chest. Had he been recognized that quickly? Or did the Watcher tip someone off? God knew that Bright Rock barely abided by the treaties set by the King in regards to supernatural affairs. It wouldn’t surprise him if the Watcher owed his loyalties more to the local lord than to The Organized Supernaturals.

Jeremiah took a deep breath. He could worry about that later. For now he needed to pay attention. He tuned himself in to conversation, blocking out the other conversation and distractions. Rodrig was playing dumb about the whole situation. But his heart rate was all over the place. Rodrig feared this man. Even after the red faced instructor finally dismissed him and Rodrig returned back to his small corner of the practice field, his body language and beating heart gave away his state of panic.

Luckily, the rest of the day’s training went by uneventfully. Jeremiah stretched his back after having sat and watched all day. Jeremiah was also taking a moment to stretch. The young lad put his practice sword away. Jeremiah expected Rodrig to start heading to the barracks with the other students. Instead he started heading towards the forest and right to where Jeremiah happened to be watching.

Jeremiah quickly jumped into a nearby bush, holding his breath as Rodrig passed right by him. Rodrig on his part was completely unaware. Jeremiah was beginning to get the impression that Rodrig spent a lot of time in his own head. That worked in Jeremiah’s favor though. Would make it easier to follow and spy on him. Or maybe even approach him. Pretend that it was completely by coincidence and continue their conversation from the night before.

Unless the Watcher was right and Rodrig really was going out into the woods to masturbate. If his sons were here, they would probably make a joke about stumbling upon a free show. He shook his head to clear his mind and decided that it would probably be best to keep to recon for now. And the best way to do that would be from his hybrid form.

Jeremiah stripped his clothes off, leaving them in the bush before pulling on the spirited wolf. Hybrid form required him to merge both himself and the wolf spirit living inside of himself into one being. It was something that took years of practice. Jeremiah had only just recently mastered it. Soon he grew black fur across his body like he would a normal shift. Instead of falling to all fours though, he still stood on two. His back grew a tail and his hands had large claws on the tip of each finger. His face elongated into a snout like a wolf and his height grew by another foot. He stood tall. What was once two spirits in one body was now one. Everything about him enhanced far beyond what it was before. Strength, dexterity, hearing, sound, smell all pushed beyond what they were before. He slowly began to stalk his target, remaining as far as possible. Rodrig didn’t have to even be in sight for Jeremiah to follow. The scent trail Rodrig left behind was enough to keep him on track.

Rodrig eventually settled on a spot by a large tree, sitting down with his back against it. He breathed slowly and his heart rate dropped to a relaxing slow thump. Jeremiah slowly stalked his way to the opposite side of the tree. Each step carefully planned to not make a sound. Jeremiah climbed up in the foliage of the tree so that he was able to see down to the ground. Once he was right above the Sensitive, he watched. As he watched, he listened to Rodrig’s heartbeat. It was relaxing. Jeremiah found himself wanting to do nothing more than curl up and nap as the sound of the heartbeat lulled him to sleep. Now that the human and wolf side of Jeremiah were one, there was no conversation about what they wanted. Jeremiah could feel how similar Rodrig’s spirit was to his and to his three sons. He was compatible and Jeremiah knew as soon as it was appropriate, he would petition for Rodrig to join the pack. But that was a far way off. For now, he could simply relax and listen to the calm breath of the man below.

Then a chill ran down Jeremiah’s spine. The smell of a specter carried across the breeze. It would be invisible to anyone who didn’t have some sort of spiritual awareness, so Rodrig would be blissfully unaware of the creature lurking nearby. But the specter definitely took notice of Rodrig.

It appeared as an old man, an ax thrusted through his gut. The specter must have been a murder victim. It was slightly translucent like most undead without a physical body were. Its eyes fell on Rodrig and stumbled towards the oblivious Sensitive.. Jeremiah gave a warning growl to try and get the spector’s attention. One he tried to keep as quiet as possible. The specter took notice and stopped in its tracks. Unfortunately, so did Rodrig.

Jeremiah cursed at the gods for putting him in such an awkward position. The specter began to shamble forward again. Jeremiah gave another warning growl. Rodrig was on his feet looking for the source of the noise. The once pleasant and slow beat of the man’s heart had now picked up to a rapid pulse. Jeremiah could smell the adrenaline coming off him.

The specter didn’t stop this time. Jeremiah silently apologized to Rodrig who was about to get the biggest scare of his life and let out a loud growl right above Rodrig’s head. Rodrig looked up. For a split second, Jeremiah could see Rodrig’s brain trying to process what it was seeing.

There was confusion.

There was understanding.

There was fear.

Rodrig ran. The specter gave chase. Jeremiah took off after Rodrig.

Jeremiah chased after Rodrig, moving just fast enough to keep up and heard him away from the spector and back towards the academy. Rodrig was surprisingly fast for a human. Which was good because they soon lost the specter. Jeremiah stopped chasing right before they passed into sight of the academy. Rodrig was just about to make it over the hill before his foot got caught on an overgrown root. The young man fell over the horizon of the hill.

Jeremiah cringed as he heard what sounded like a painful descent down the hill. He didn’t stay to check on him though. The screaming about a wild beast chasing him through the woods was enough of an indication to prove that Rodrig had survived the fall. Jeremiah grabbed his clothes and bolted back to his camp. He prayed the other Heads didn’t hear about this.

—-

Jeremiah approached the hut of the Watcher. His plan was to ask if the old bastard had told anyone of his arrival. Jeremiah was ready for an interrogation. Not a rescue. But a rescue he had. For when he arrived, the shack was half destroyed.

Jeremiah scented the air. He could smell the traces of a small group, most likely city guard scent to harass the Watcher. But why? Jeremiah slowly approached, making sure no one else was there. Then he heard a weak cry.

“Help. Please.” The Watcher cried from inside the shack. Jeremiah stepped inside, the place was trashed and the roof had caved in the middle. Sitting next to the debris was the Watcher, his leg caught under a support beam. Jeremiah ran over and easily lifted the beam out of the way before picking up the Watcher and carrying him outside. He set the Watcher down and looked him over. He had a gash on top of his bald head that was leaking blood down his face. It would need stitches. His leg also appeared to be fractured. But he would live.

“What happened?” Jeremiah asked.

“Someone at the bar recognized you. Was keeping a watch on the Sensitive.” The Watcher said.

“Why would he have known?”

“I told them. Before you arrived.”

Jeremiah’s fury rose. He wanted to strangle the old man where he stood. He almost did. But then he wouldn’t get the info he needed. Jeremiah needed to remain calm. He took a deep breath.

“Why?” Jeremiah asked. “The treaty states-“

“You think they care about the treaty?” The Watcher interrupted. “Your father only abides by it because of the king’s wishes. But if he had his way, all Sensitives and Adapts would be put to the stake.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you told him?” Jeremiah’s hands were shaking as he held the old man by his shoulders.

“Because of this,” the Watcher said, waving his hands at his destroyed shack. “This is what happens if I don’t play nice with the thugs he sends.”

Jeremiah took a moment to center himself. He knew the lord was a spiteful man who thought anything supernatural should be shot on sight. But to do this. To blatantly break the terms of the treaty. The other Heads would want to know.

“You can’t stay here.” Jeremiah finally said. “Is there somewhere safe I can take you?”

“Yes, I have a friend in the old town. She can patch me up. Then I’m leaving.”

“You’re abandoning your post?” Jeremiah roared.

“Yes! Yes damn it I am!” The Watcher screamed back. “Because if I stay, they will kill me!”

Jeremiah sat there holding the old man as he began to sob.

“It’s not safe here. For any of us.” The Watcher said between sobs. Pleading with Jeremiah to understand. “Get the boy. Fuck the process. He’s not safe here. And neither are you.”

They sat there for a moment in silence as Jeremiah processed everything he heard.

“Where’s your friend?” Jeremiah eventually asked. He would consider the Watcher’s advice later. For now, he needed to get the old man to safety.

——

Jeremiah left the Watcher with his friend. Before he could leave, the Watcher said one more thing.

“They know what he is. And they are mad that you were the one sent to pick him up. They want you out of the city. Get the boy tonight. We can’t wait for him to come with us willingly. Do your duty.”

“Do not speak to me of duty when you are abandoning yours.” Jeremiah spat back before stomping away. He hated that he agreed with the man. Rodrig was in danger. There was no time to wait. If he had to, he would knock him out with a sleeping potion and kidnap him.

He made his way back to camp first. It was growing dark so he had to shift his eyes to see better. The camp was undisturbed. Beatrice the donkey greeted him with a big smile. He patted her head before rummaging through his things. He was looking for his stealth gear. He had just found the sleeping potion when a voice called out for him from deep in the woods. “Come on out Jerimiah. I know you’re back in town.” A voice called for him. It was far away but his enhanced hearing picked it up along with the scent of Rodrig, the instructor he had seen earlier that day and a third smell. One that he couldn’t place but it felt familiar.

“Decided to hunt yourself another young buck? Well, guess what? You can have this one on me. He’s a fucking loser with no family. Won’t be missed. All you gotta do to have him is leave town. For good this time.” The voice of the instructor continued.

Jeremiah dropped everything he was doing and ran, shifting the muscles in his legs so that he moved faster than any human had any right to. As he ran, another voice echoed through the forest.

“And if you don’t come and claim your prize, I’ll gut him.” A new voice said. It sounded so familiar. But any thought of trying to identify the voice was cut off when Rodrig suddenly let out a muffled scream through the forest.

“Hear that? The young buck is calling for you.” the unknown voice said. The instructor and the unknown voice continued to talk amongst themselves but it was unintelligible over the rising heartbeat of Rodrig which was in full blown panic. Jeremiah approached the clearing where the trio currently resided and came to a skidding halt.

Jeremiah saw three figures. The first he saw was Rodrig lying on the ground, hands bound behind him with shackles and a piece of fabric that bound his mouth. He was breathing heavily and smelled of blood, but beyond being scared out of his mind seemed to be okay. Standing above him holding a knife was the instructor. The knife's tip was red with blood. Lastly was a man. A man that Jeremiah hadn’t seen in close to a decade. In fact, the last time Jeremiah saw this man, he was still a boy. Barely ten. His younger brother, Eldin.

“There you are.” Eldin said. “Was wondering when you would show up, Monster.”

“Hello again, Little Brother.” Jeremiah said, trying not to let the hurt of seeing his younger brother again cross his face. “It’s been too long.”

“We are not family, you freak!” Elden said. “I don’t know why you thought it was okay to hunt here but I will not stand for it. Take your prize and leave here.”

Jeremiah wasn’t sure what Elden was talking about. He wasn’t here hunting humans like a diseased lycanthrope. He was here as part of the treaty. To protect the Kingdom by finding those who were at risk from the supernatural and help them.

He focused his attention on Rodrig. The instructor had grabbed the cadet by his shackles and pulled him from the ground to a kneeling position. His cheek was bleeding from the fresh cut on his face and there appeared to be another on his back from the looks of the blood stain on his shirt. Jeremiah met his eyes and Rodrig. His eyes looked devoid of hope. This was a man who had been broken and was ready to give up.

“What did you do to him?” Jeremiah said. “Why would you do this to him?”

“Because he’s a useless freak,” the instructor said. “ Had to rough him up a bit for wasting my time. Besides, can’t your kind smell the blood of your prey?” He then pushed Rodrig forward and kicked him in the back, launching him forward. Jeremiah launched forward and grabbed Rodrig before he could hit the ground. The bound man didn’t mov once caught. He just laid against his chest. He was in some form of shock.

“I’ve got you kid.” Jeremiah whispered down to Rodrig before turning back to the two men still standing on the other side of the clearing. “Care to provide the key to his bonds?”

“You’re a big strong beast. I’m sure you can tear them off.” the instructor said. He began to laugh and it reminded Jeremiah of one of those over the top villains in the operas his birth father used to take him to see all the time. The instructor picked up his lantern and began to walk away. Jeremiah looked over and met his younger brother's eyes. They were filled with disgust. Eldin followed after the instructor, taking the other lantern with him and leaving both Rodrig and Jeremiah in darkness.

Jeremiah shifted his eyes again so he could see in the dark. Rodrig would be completely blind in such low light so there was no chance of him noticing the sudden change in his eyes. He helped Rodrig to a sitting position and let the young man lean against him for support as he untied the gag.

“Are you all right?” Jeremiah asked. Rodrig wasn’t looking at him but staring blankly into the darkness. His face was scrunched up as he took a few deep breaths, small pools of tears building up on the side of his face. But Rodrig held his emotions back and his face went blank.

“I’m fine.” Rodrig said. It sounded rehearsed. Something he always said whenever he was actually anything but fine.

“We’ll get you to my camp where I can check your injuries.” Jeremiah said. He helped to pick him up before noticing that there was a bag over by where the instructor and Eldin were standing. “Is that pack they dropped yours?”

“I don’t know.” Rodrig said. “I can’t see. Probably. They did have me pack my bag before…” He trailed off and shivered.

“Stay here.” Jeremiah told Rodrig. he then went over and picked up the bag. It was light. The trip back to the pack land wasn’t long but with such a small bag, they might need to buy some clothes if he ran out. They would be too busy traveling to wash their clothes. But they would figure it out as they went. He went over and stood behind Rodrig.

“Hold still.” Jeremiah said before he shifted the muscles in his arms. He carefully pulled on the chain, trying not to put any force on Rodrig’s arms as he snapped the flimsy metal. Rodrig brought his arms in front of himself, flexing and stretching them.

“How did you break them?” Rodrig asked.

“Now is not the best time to explain,” Jeremiah said, wrapping his arm around Rodrig’s. “I have good night vision so I will lead you back to my camp. Can you walk?”

“I got my ankle stomped on.” Rodrig said.

Jeremiah had to stop himself from interrogating Rodrig on who was responsible. There would be plenty of time for that later. He prayed it wasn’t Eldin.

“I might be able to carry you,” Jeremiah said before scooping the young man up. He didn’t weigh that much, even without shifting the muscles in his arms. But then Rodrig started squirming in panic.

“Down! Put me down!” Rodrig cried.

“Shh you.” Jeremiah said, adding a bit of the Wild into his voice. “Unless you want to walk to my camp on a hurt ankle.” Rodrig stopped squirming.

“I could make it.” Rodrig pouted. His heartbeat skipped.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Jeremiah said. He had to give Rodrig points for trying to act tough but he needed to learn when to ask for help. Another thing that could be worked on later. “Now stand still. It’s easier to move if you stay still.”

Jeremiah held tight and rushed forward, only going at about half speed. Rodrig pressed against him for stability. The closeness made Jeremiah feel hot. His wolf perked up and started dancing around inside his chest. “

Yes, yes, yes!” it said in his head. “Ours. Finally ours.”

Jeremiah had to push back. No. Not ours. Not yet.

The spirit wolf backed down, but still remained right at the edge of his mind.

When they finally reached his camp, he set Rodrig down on a small wooden folding stool.

“Stay here. I’m going to light a fire.” Jeremiah told Rodrig before grabbing his flint and steel and striking them together. A few seconds later he had a fire going. He then went to his pack and grabbed some Jerky. He pushed it into Rodrig’s hands.

“Eat this and wait here. I’ve got some tools that can pick the locks on those shackles.” Jeremiah told him. He then went and started digging through his bag for his tools. Of course, since he wasn’t expecting to have to use them, they were all the way at the bottom of his bag. He would have to thank Alfonse later for forcing him to pack all these extra tools.

“Just in case, Father.” Alfonse’s voice rang inside his head.

When Jeremiah finally found his tools, he headed over to crouch next to Rodrig. He noticed that Rodrig had already finished the jerky he had given him.

“You can have another piece after I’m done with these,” Jeremiah said before pulling one of his wrists forward. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know. The Captain suddenly told me to stay in my quarters and when he came to get me, that guy was with him. I thought they were going to kick me out of the academy but then they brought me to the woods. Then that...fancy asshole pulled a sword on me. Told me if I didn’t move, he would gut me. Then they tied me up and gagged me.”

Rodrig had to stop himself from laughing when he heard Eldin being referred to as a “fancy asshole.”

“Did they say why?” Jeremiah asked. One of the shackles came undone. He grabbed Rodrig’s other wrist and got to work on the second one.

“No. They didn’t tell me anything. But I get the feeling it has something to do with you.”

There it was. The connection Jeremiah hoped Rodrig wouldn’t make. But it would take an absolute idiot not to notice he was associated with this in some way. Especially after calling Eldin his little brother in front of Rodrig. It was stupid. But seeing someone he thought he would never see again had rattled him.

““Yeah.” Jeremiah said. “I do. But the explanations are going to have to wait until morning. We need to be out of here at first light.”

“Leave? I can’t leave.” Rodrig said as he tried to pull his hand back. Jeremiah held firm.

“You can’t stay either.” Jeremiah said. “You’re not safe here. That man, the fancy asshole as you called him, won’t let you live if you stay.”

Jeremiah hoped that wasn’t true. He hoped his younger brother wasn’t capable of killing and that it was their father’s terrible influence that was causing the once sweet and tender boy to act in such a way. Rodrig wasn’t the only one Jeremiah wanted to take with him. Even though he knew he couldn’t.

As he finally got the second shackle off, Rodrig pulled his hands close, rubbing his wrists. The skin where the shackles had lay seemed irritated.

“Why? I didn’t do anything to him.” Rodrig asked.

“It’s not about what you did. It’s about what you are.”

Jeremiah was getting ready to break the news. That he had a hole in his soul that supernatural elements could next in. That he was different. Before he could say his piece, Rodrig spoke.

“I didn’t ask to be like this.” Rodrig said. “I didn’t ask to be a faggot.”

Jeremiah’s heart broke for Rodrig that moment.

“That’s not what I...oh kid.” Jeremiah said, pulling Rodrig into his arms. He remembered the dark times from his own past. The holding back who he was for appearances. Refusing to accept who he was. It was what made leaving so much easier. “That’s not something you can control. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, it is.” Rodrig sobbed. Jeremiah could feel Rodrig’s tears soak his shirt. “The scripture says a man must procreate. That wasting your seed in another man is akin to murder.”

“Kid, sorry to break this to you but the scripture was written by a bunch of assholes with sixteen slave wives apiece.” Jeremiah said, holding the young man tight. Even though Rodrig was having a crisis, just holding the man made something inside of Jeremiah feel right. Like the first time he had held the three men who would eventually become his sons. He didn’t want to give this one over to another group. He wanted to keep this one. Which was bad. “They weren’t exactly the height of moral standings.” That last line was a dig on not just the holier than thou prophets but himself as well.

“But I...” Rodrig tried to argue.

“No buts.” Jeremiah said, holding him at arm's length. He had switched into what Lucin, his second son, called his “dad lecture voice.”

“You being gay isn’t a bad thing. It doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated less than. And don’t say faggot. If I hear that word come out of your mouth again, especially in reference to yourself, I’ll tan your hide. Understood?”

Rodrig looked bewildered but eventually gave a little nod. Jeremiah handed him another piece of jerky.

“Good. Eat this while I prepare you a bedroll.” Jeremiah said before leaving the stunned Rodrig to prepare the spare bedroll he always brought when he was expecting to pick up a Sensitive. Technically he brought 2 extra in case the Sensitive had a spouse or child they couldn’t leave behind. He finished with the bedroll before leaving Rodrig’s bag in the corner of the tent.

“Bed’s ready. Come on, let’s get you laid down so I can take a look at your wounds.” Jeremiah said before going over and helping Rodrig to stand and lead him over to the tent. Rodrig limped the short distance. He wouldn’t be able to walk on it for a while. Thank god he had the cart. Beatrice would give some attitude for the extra weight though.

“Before you lay down, I need you to take off your shirt.” Jeremiah said as he helped sit Rodrig on the bedroll.

“Why?” Rodrig asked, suddenly panicking.

“You’re bleeding on your back. The wound needs to be cleaned. I also need to look at that cut on your cheek and your ankle.”

Rodrig did as he was told. Jeremiah felt a bit ashamed to say that a part of him enjoyed watching the young man take off his shirt. He had a well toned chest but he seemed a bit skinny for someone his height. Something that was easily remedied. Rodrig laid on his stomach so his back was in place.

“Good boy. Now wait here while I get my first aid equipment.” Jeremiah said. He left to grab his stash but by the time he came back, Rodrig was fast asleep.

“That makes sense.” Jeremiah said. He got to work cleaning and disinfecting the wound on Rodrig’s back. It wasn’t deep. No stitches needed. But it would need to be bandaged in some ways. Jeremiah didn’t have one long enough so cloth wraps would have to do. Surprisingly, Rodrig slept through all of it. The face was a bit more deep, that one would need stitches. Again though, Rodrig slept through the process. This one he did have a bandage that would fit. Lastly was the ankle. He rolled it around. The muscles popped but nothing appeared broken. If he stayed off it, Rodrig should be walking within a week. He wrapped it so that it would be hard for him to move it but not so hard to cut off circulation. When Jeremiah was done, he grabbed a blanket and laid it down on top of the man.

Jeremiah then got himself ready for bed. He fed Beatrice, who nuzzled his face and nipped at his hair. He then ate some travel rations and stripped off his shirt and boots. He decided to keep his pants on tonight. Lastly he pulled out a small alarm clock and set it to go off right before first light. He took one last look over at Rodrig who was lightly snoring. Jeremiah joined him in slumber shortly after.

#gay #gay werewolf #creative writing

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neecxle · 4 years ago

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Not So Berry Extended

I finished the Not So Berry Challenge but wanted to continue for a few more generations because I adore my family. So I’ve written up my own version of things I want to do and accomplish per generation. Now this is a small extension most likely 3 generations that will be updated as I play. Rules may be subject to change whether that be adding or removing things, bc I am playtesting all of this currently.

If you want to follow and watch my playthrough of my Not So Berry Extended, you can do so HERE. ♥

Hope you enjoy and have fun with it!

Generation 11: White

From a young age you grew a fascination with acting, the idea of being able to step away from reality and take on a role of someone else excited you. So with the supportive parents you had, they enrolled you in drama club for the entirety of your school life. You begin to strive for something more, becoming a global superstar actor! With focusing so much on your career, keeping serious romantic relationships is difficult because you always prioritize work over love. You eat, breathe, sleep acting and you were happy keeping it that way. But with a one night stand gone wrong... you find out you are now left with an unplanned child.

Traits: Self-Absorbed // Music Lover // Non-Committal

Aspiration: Master Actor

Career: Actor

Goals:

enroll in drama club as a child and teen + get promoted to junior artiste (lvl.4)

master acting skill

reach level 5 in singing, dancing and an instrument of your choice

master the actor career and master actor aspiration

become a 5 star celebrity

have at least 1 celebrity best friend

never get married

have a one night stand and “accidentally” get pregnant/impregnate the sim* - this will be your only child

* if you choose to impregnate a sim, once the sim gives birth they give you the child to take care of

side note: if you don’t have access to custom content feel free to use silver hair in replacement for white and dress them in white if you please

Generation 12: Brown

Growing up in the shadows of your parents spotlight was a little hard on you. Although you knew how much they loved you and tried their best to spend every free moment with you, you still felt...alone. Thankfully being a part of the scouts club gave you a sense of family, which you deeply cherished. Scouts club also made you truly fall in love with the outdoors. Being out in nature didn’t make you feel like you were so alone anymore, which is why camping became something you loved to do. There were tales that in the Deep Woods of Granite Falls a hermit resides away from everyone, so naturally the curious bean you were you had to find out for yourself. Forever alone felt like a motto you started to live by and thought you’d never get married like your parent, but someone finally came along and you were really happy with the way life was heading. Unfortunately down the road things didn’t end up working out. You’ve always secretly had this crazy idea of making a robot best friend since you were a kid. The thought of having a robot who was there for you every waking moment felt like something you needed in your life, so it was time to make a crazy idea… a reality!

Traits: Loves the Outdoors // Loner // Erratic

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast

Career: Gardener

Goals:

join scouts club as a child and teen + get promoted to llamacorn scout (lvl.5)

master outdoor enthusiast aspiration (i give you permission to cheat sleep 5 nights in a tent - it’s quite annoying)

master gardening career (floral designer branch)

master gardening and flower arranging skill

complete the insect collection

have a pet cowplant

master herbalism skill (craft each recipe at least once - 13 recipes total)

master robotics skill and create your robot best friend

have 1 failed marriage and have at least 1 child w/ them

go into the deep woods > meet and befriend the hermit

Generation 13: Black

Ahh books… you love em! You always enjoyed a good read that could take you on a journey in a whole new fantasy world. So naturally starting a book club at school to share your love for reading was the thing to do. Thanks to the club it brought you your best friend, who you later fall in love with and get engaged to. Instead of going off to university like everyone else you got convinced to join the military, but that didn’t last long so you quit and went off to study psychology. Whilst away at uni you discovered the Encyclopedia Vampirica, and got extremely curious about vampires to the point you took a trip over to Forgotten Hollow to find out if they were real. You end up meeting a vampire who you become completely mesmerized with and fall in love so quick as if you were put under a spell. This is where you decide to ask “could I be turned into one?” Without hesitation their teeth sink into your neck and the process of you turning has begun. You decide to drop out of university and call off the engagement because you have fallen for another and want to live out your new vampire life. Becoming a Simlish online teacher was your only option after dropping out of uni, and with working from home you had more time to yourself so you started writing your own books. Unfortunately your job started to feel mundane, so you have the bright idea of running your own business! Not being able to have children has always upset you, but with your new powers creating your own vampire family is only one step away...

Traits: Bookworm // Cheerful // Insider

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Career: Military/ Education/ Business Owner

Goals:

start a book club as a child and meet with them at least once a week

get engaged to your best friend shortly after aging up into a young adult

join the military career reach lvl 5, then quit

go off to university and study psychology - drop out after first semester

fall in love with a vampire and ask them to turn you

break off the engagement after you drop out of university

master bowling, vampire lore, and pipe organ skill

join the education career reach lvl 4, then quit (only work from home)

write and publish at least 5 books

complete the master vampire aspiration

don’t have kids or adopt - instead create a vampire family of sims you turn (at least 2)

run your own business

(optional if you want to end the legacy) burn to death from being exposed to sunlight

If you have decided to end your legacy here, congratulations on completing my not so berry extended! I hope you enjoyed the challenge, if you did, thank you for taking the time to give this a go!

- Much love, Nicole ♥

#nsbe #nsb #not so berry extended #not so berry #neecxle

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that-vigilant-yaksha · 4 years ago

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Requested by Anon: can I request hcs with xiao, albedo, and childe x reader (separately) about the reader asking them to play truth or dare, just the two of them? it went slightly towards nsfw because the reader teases the character a lot and thus SEXUAL TENSION!!

Pairings: Albedo x GN!Reader ; Childe x GN!Reader ; Xiao x GN! Reader

Warnings: Sexual Content! Nothing graphic but mentions of sexual acts

A/N: My first request! Thank you for asking! I had so much writing these. Teasing these beautiful boys and how they might reacting to it during a game of truth or dare.

You were bored. The reality didn’t match the fantasy you’d had when you decided to accompany Albedo up to his camp in Dragonspire. He actually wanted to focus on work, instead of you.

Which honestly, you shouldn’t have been surprised by. The man was obsessed with his work.

Sitting on a stool, you simply stared at his back as he pondered over the pinned papers on the board. How could one man look so sexy while reading? But you were still bummed that he wasn’t paying attention to you.

“Hey, Albedo?”

No response.

“Albedo?”

Still nothing.

Getting off the stool, you snuck over him, admiring and hating how focused he was. “Albedo!” You nearly shouted his name, throwing your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his back. “Let’s play a game!”

He agreed to play only to satiate you, because although his work meant a lot to him, he also had such a hard time saying no to you. You’ll have to explain the rules to him, as he’s never played before.

Once he has a basic understanding, Albedo plays the game seriously. He leans toward truths in the beginning. He asks strange questions, sometimes pertaining to his work. It was cute, and you let him get away with it.

But when it was his turn, you teased him endlessly. Truths were riddled with leading questions, and dares were filled with some kind of touching or kissing. You started out small, daring him for a kiss or asking for the truth of how much he thinks about you when you are apart.

Albedo isn’t stupid. While at first, he isn’t fully aware of what you are doing, he quickly puzzles it out. He’ll play dumb, calculating the best way to deal with you being so brazen.

And when he does. Oh, you are in for it. You leaned toward dares, wanting to see how far he’d take it. You’re obviously fake innocent smile as you waited to hear what he’d dare you to do only fueled him to make the dare something dirty.

“I dare you to touch yourself.”

You.exe has stopped working.

You were not prepared to hear those words come from his lips. But he was staring at you without an ounce of joking, completely serious. Your silence prompted him to tilt his head. “I believe that’s within the rules, yes? Are you refusing my dare?”

Oh, you were in for it. It was freezing up in the mountains. And he wanted you to expose yourself and masturbate? The thought did thrill you, and you realized that this was an inevitable outcome.

You comply with the dare, and things only become more heated between the two of you. Dares becoming the only thing you both chose, becoming bolder with each one.

“Perhaps next time you’ll think again before attempting to fool me, hmm?”

Occasionally, late at night, you could find Childe at Northland Bank, on night duty. He needed no assistance from the other Fatui, as the single Harbinger was more capable than a dozen of his subordinates. You weren’t supposed to bother him while he was working but you’d caught him talking to himself in different voices, showing how utterly bored he was.

In your hands was a bottle of wine and some snacks you’d swiped from Wanmin Restaurant. Childe wasn’t the best influence on you, apparently. You tended to do some shady things after spending more time with him. “I come bearing gifts.”

Childe is absolutely thrilled that you came. He hates having to be on guard, all alone. He’s a sociable person. “Oh, I see you brought some wine and food too.” You were always a treat to be around, and the Harbinger found himself wanting to spend time with you.

The two of you spend a little time talking and drinking, snacking, and more drinking. The wine had gone to your head a little, and you thought perhaps his guard was a little down after an entire bottle. “Wanna play a game with me?”

He’s ready when you suggest a game of truth or dare. He’s played with his younger siblings often and he loves the idea.

Childe takes the game very seriously but wasn’t ready for you to take such bold actions against him. He finds it utterly adorable that you are trying to trick him. But he allows it for a little while.

He’ll pretend to not notice that your dares are getting more and more intimate, and he’ll play dumb when you ask him to tell you the truth on how much he cares for you.

It’s the tipsy side of you that is unaware that is totally playing with you, biding his time before he could turn the tables on you. Childe is the puppeteer, and you are simply the marionette, but you were always unaware.

I dare you to kiss me anywhere but on my lips. A test. To see how far the harbinger was willing to go. You'd expected the neck, maybe. Where he'd find that sweet spot to nibble on. Or he might try for your chest, as a way to return your taunts.

The world flipped, and you were flat on your back against the floor. Blue irises staring at you with such intense lust. His mouth hovering above your most sensitive part of your body.

"Ah, the look on your face is so adorable. I could just eat you up."

And he follows through with his promise. Both of you secretly glad that he always works alone. Otherwise, someone might overhear all the pretty noises you make for him.

You liked taking overnight trips to Wangshu Inn, begging Boss to go along with your little white lie that the inn was full, and you had no room to stay in. Which meant you made a plate of Almond Tofu and went to the top floor to find the resident Adeptus.

“Xiao, I made your favorite,” You said, casting a glance around the seemingly empty balcony. He was here. You could tell, since you spent so much time with him, despite his constant complaining about tainting the human world.

“You are trying to bribe an adeptus? Humans are so brazen.” But he lacked the typical irritation that he had when speaking to anyone else. He could fake it all he wanted, but you knew he liked being around you.

You snickered, offering him the plate. “Inn’s full, so you’ll let me stay with you, right? You wouldn’t want me to sleep out here in the cold and get sick, would you?”

Xiao sighed, but accepted the dish. “I would not wish to see you fall ill. I’ll allow you to stay the night, as long as you behave.” He hadn’t intended the words to be received as you took them.

The more you thought over it, the more you wanted to twist them just a smidge. Alone in his room, you sat on the bed and waited for him to finish eating. “Xiao, let’s play a little game! To pass the time.”

What is this game you speak of? It sounds childish. He doesn't partake in silly human games.

But your bottom lip sticking out in a pleading fashion paired with your big puppy dog eyes, and the adeptus caved, unable to say no to you.

"I surrender. Explain this game to me."

Honestly, bless this man. He tries so hard, but he is taking the game way too literally. You have to explain again that he can ask whatever and dare anything. It's easy to take advantage and get away with a lot of teasing.

You start out with daring him to let you sit in his lap and touch his hair, and for the loner Xiao, this is considered a treat. It's rare that he lets you be so affectionate.

You up your game and start asking for lingering hugs and kisses. Just give a few wiggles in his lap and you'll have him turned on. He's a bit embarrassed but finally catches on after some questionable dares. Why were you wanting him to kiss your thighs? Not that he minded because he quite liked them.

It's so cute how unaware he is. He's got a band of pink across his cheeks, finding it harder and harder to resist you. Until he finally understands what is going on. Bless him for being so naive to human teasing.

"I see." He'd ponder his next move and be brutal about his execution. You choose dare simply to see how he'll react. "My dare for you is this. Strip, completely."

You eagerly comply, doing it ever so slowly. Revealing your bare skin bit by bit. His golden irises watching every moment.

Xiao is quite annoyed that you managed to confuse him for so long and get in a lot of teasing. He plans to skip your turn for a while, giving you more and more risky dares until the game ends but the night has only just begun.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact childe #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact xiao x reader #genshin impact albedo x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact fanfiction

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years ago

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LOVE IS STRANGE

PAIRING: Poe Dameron x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: The union of Ireca and Mohash may seem a typical cliche of love in comparison to your depressingly lonely state, but when a certain poster boy pilot emerges during the celebration, you wonder if love works in other underlying ways. A/N: I found this in my google docs, first written about a year ago. so, wohoo i present to you my first ever poe dameron content, i think? he's so charming and carelessly beautiful. please leave a comment and tell me what you think or what else you'll like to see from me 💖 gif by @john-seed from this gifst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, space swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

Love is strange. Delicate yet fierce. So forceful that it manages to seep through the cracks created by bombs and gunfire of war. Unexpected at times, appearing out of nowhere. Yet, it’s beautiful because it brings those with beautiful hearts and minds together, entangled in the constant dance of intimacy and devotion.

It’s what Ireca and Mohash have.

Ireca was from the Logistic division, a mechanic herself and your colleague. She was to be married to her long-time lover, Mohash, a flight engineer for the Cobalt Squadron. As far as cliches go, wartime love falls along the lines of a romance cliche. Yet, war was all you’ve known. It’s what everyone has ever known. It’s common to develop some kind of a feeling other than the constant emotions during battle—fondness, the feeling of falling in love with someone. It’s truly what we stay alive for.

Maybe that’s why you hate it so much. The absence of the feeling that everyone describes as so fucking amazing that it completes you. You feel empty most of the time. It’s definitely the reason why you put all your effort into fixing things you can rather than complicated problems and issues that continue to reside in your mind, especially in the wake of midnight.

You find yourself sitting by the makeshift bar, tucked away from the crowd of friends and colleagues. There’s music playing, the sound of drums, and the seven-string hallikset reminds you of your brief visit to Naboo three cycles ago. You’re nursing a warm cup of something that tastes closer to acid water than alcohol.

Ireca emerges from the crowd with flowers in her braided hair. She approaches you with a bright smile and calls out your name wistfully. You shoot a strained smile her way, feeling the bags under your eyes weigh a little more. “What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?” she asks, leaning against the bar with a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired. Last night was rough. Plus, I’m behind schedule.” you sighed heavily, running your fingers through your hair. She flashed you a smile of sympathy as you continued, “I’m sorry, Ireca. Don’t let me ruin your night. Go, have fun.”

She raises an eyebrow as you take another sip from your cup.

"Go. I'm sure you don't want to miss Mohash's special performance." You gesture to a drunk Mohash, who seemed to be searching for the woman. Ireca merely laughed. "Oh, it sure is going to be special." With a gentle touch to your back and wave, you watch her make her way into the swarm of bodies. You're left alone once again.

You’re still trying to figure out how Mohash even got hold of any sort of alcohol and managed to smuggle it into the base. Someone must have nicked it during one of the previous missions in the Mid Rim.

You rub your eyes, half-awake at this point; your cup is placed beside you as you rest your head against your folded arms on the table. Your mind is in a daze and incapable of irrational thought, deciding it would be best to just camp out here, by the makeshift bar, for the night. You were too tired to drag yourself all the way to your quarters, which felt like miles away, in the first place.

As sleep began to weigh heavy upon your eyelids, you suddenly felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. A soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted your head, still resting on your arms, just enough to peek at your sleep intruder.

It’s Poe Dameron. Commander and Black Leader. Incredibly talented, confident, and effortlessly handsome.

Ugh, you hate this guy.

Yet, you don’t feel so tired anymore.

“Are you drunk?” There’s amusement in his voice with a tinge of mockery. It made you realize the stun you were pulling. Classic Dameron. It was supposed to be a happy ceremony, but it was truly Ireca’s fault for manipulating you into coming tonight. Parties, events, and social gatherings were never right up your alley. You prefer spending time with machinery and your greasy hands.

Poe’s eyes are gleaming under the fluorescent lights, filled with concern, but you spot the smugness in his emerging smile. A flash of a thought, you kind of want to feel his lips on yours. The image immediately stings. You want to gag.

Poe is irritating, arrogant, and careless. Not charming. Nope, definitely not charming.

You straighten yourself, trying to shake off the burning image, shoving it to the back of your head. You lift your head, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the heel of your hand. “You actually think I’ll even touch that bantha shit?”

Tearing your eyes away from Poe, you reach for your cup only to realize it was empty. He casts you a look. Your eyes shoot daggers with an extended pointer finger his way, “Don’t you dare say anything, flyboy.”

Poe raises his palms in defense, lips pursing. “Wasn’t going to.”

You catch a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, one hand discreetly reaching under his tawny leather jacket. Then, a bottle of Corellian whiskey emerges, shining under the lights of the Resistance hangar. Your face lights up at the recognition of the bottle, memories of your rare trips to Corellia, sharing whiskey drinks with your colleagues. It was the only planet you’d been to ever since you joined the Resistance.

You’ve only tasted Corellian whiskey once because of how expensive it is. You’ll happily get drunk to that in a heartbeat. Drink the worry and sorrow away with the lingering taste of frankly exorbitant whiskey.

Like a child with grabby hands, you reach for the bottle, but as your fingers brush his, Poe quickly lifts it to the air and away from you. He smacks your hand away. You whine, feeling a little lightheaded. The contents of the mysterious drink are starting to kick in.

What the blinkin' mradhe muck was in that drink?

“What do you want from me? It’s not like I have a drinking problem.”

He’s giving you that look like he’s judging you, but with a hint of amusement at the slight tug of the corner of his mouth. “You definitely have a drinking problem, but... i'll let you drink this on one condition.”

“For kriff’s sake,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, glancing away. “I’m not doing any weird wacky favors for you, Dameron.”

He scoffs, expression bewildered. “Hey, I don’t ask for weird wacky favors,” He articulates his words with a defensive tone, index finger stretched to your face. You simply smack it away as Poe clicks his tongue and continues to clarify his proposition. “All I’m asking is for you to fix my ship.”

Your wide-eyed gaze flies to him, shaking your head furiously. “Oh, no, no. No. Never in a million cycles. Never in a million millennials. Nuh-uh—”

“Hey, quit being dramatic. It’s a simple job.”

Your eyes grow even wider, voice raising. “A simple job? You fly that ship of yours like we have hundreds of spare ones. I’m not putting all my time and effort into fixing a lost cause.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“No. I’m not fixing your ship, and that’s final.”

Poe blinks and you’re back to fussing over your empty cup. The chatter of the crowd grows louder as a group of pilots of the Cobalt Squadron began rendering verses of an unknown traditional drinking song to your ears. You steal a look to only find Ireca and Mohash amidst a dance, tangled in each other's arms.

He eyes closely, noticing the turn of your lips, trained eyes deem melancholy. He knows the face of a loner very well—usually recruits with lost family and homes. They enlist in a mass community of freedom fighters for the restoration of good in the universe, and to finally feel a sense of familiarity and belonging. He doesn’t know much about you but he knows you don’t truly have anyone to depend on but yourself. It’s the reason why you’re constantly fierce.

Poe clears his throat, shifting closer to you as he watches the way you carry your gradual gaze to hold his. They then flit to the space between the two of you, raised eyebrows acknowledging the weird close proximity of his presence to yours.

“Look, you’re the best mechanic there ever was and probably ever will be. So, fix my ship, and you get to have this Corellian beauty. All of it.” He sways the bottle in the air, but you don’t look at it.

“You know, that’s bribery.”

“Yes, and it’s working.”

You scoff. “No, it isn’t.”

Poe laughs. “Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

Another scoff, you look fully aggravated. “How dense do you think I am?”

“Oh, very, but let’s not get into that.”

Bickering was the only language the two of you spoke fluently when you found yourselves tangled in a conversation with one another. Thrown insults were spoken lies—saying you hate each other when you know that isn’t true. Well, at least you don’t mean it and you hoped Poe didn’t either.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. For once, kindness and acceptance seem to be the easiest route.

A sigh passes your lips as you blink up to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer for blessings from the Maker above. “You’re right. I am dense. Truly dense. So, yeah. Okay. I’ll fix that stupid X-Wing of yours.”

Poe blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait, really?”

With a roll of your eyes, they meet his very own wide ones. “Yes, really. Only because you complimented me. Now, hand me that Corellian whiskey before I change my mind.”

He then makes a sound that resonates between a cough and a pleasantly surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with delight. Poe happily and absentmindedly passes the whiskey to you, still reacting like your agreement is some sort of object of ridicule in the best way possible.

“Wow—Maker, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re saving me from. If the General ever found out—man, pfft. Thank you. Thank you so much—”

A swift and unexpected motion, he is reaching you, palms clasp and either side of your face, and plants a quick peck on the side of your left temple.

Poe isn’t thinking straight.

There you are, mid-swig, lips so close to the rim of the bottle with eyes so wide. You steal a steady glance at the pilot whose expression seems to reflect yours. His hands are still on your cheeks. He’s unbelievably close to you and he’s staring with that stupid look of his.

‘Maker, preserve me.’

A cheer erupts from the crowd from across the space and just like that, the moment is gone. Whatever the moment even was. His touch is no longer on yours and his gaze shifting away.

The tension, however, is still very present.

You finally take a swig of the whiskey, wanting to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You hum at the stinging sensation on your tongue. You catch a glimpse of Poe from the corner of your eye who busies himself with tapping his fingers nervously against the surface of the bar.

Then, in an awkward motion, you stretch your arm to him, offering the drink.

A beat. His gaze shifts between you and your hand. When he finally gives in, a smile curves upon his lips, fingers brushing against yours. They’re delicate and you smile at him. It's small, but it makes his heart skip a beat and you wonder to yourself about the strangeness of love.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron oneshot #star wars

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years ago

Text

Punkinhead (spooky mini series)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: horror, drug usage

Summary: On a camping trip with their friends, Harry and Y/N awaken an evil unlike any other.

Friends to lovers, spooky series

Part One

1963

Hellen jumped, woken by the sound of her Father's drunken screams. She tip toed to the door of her bedroom.

"Bout as smart as them cows you're supposed to bring in! An' ya couldn't even do that!" Hellen winced, hearing her father's hand come down across her brother's cheek. Hellen watched her brother stumble, only to be yanked back up by her father.

"I'm sorry Pa." He whimpered.

"Know wha? You're gonna keep watch over them cows tonight. Give that scarecrow a break." Hellen heard her brother take in a sharp breath, struggling against their father's hold.

"No Pa! Please-"

"An' maybe Punkinhead'll take ya off my hands! Only need one Scarecrow right?!" Hellen watched her father grab a lamp and some rope, dragging her brother behind him.

Hellen put her boots and coat on quickly. Surely he was kidding about Punkinhead. Punkinhead wasn't a real thing. He didn't exist. Twenty minutes later she heard her Pa come back inside, slumping into his chair. She waited until she heard his soft snores before sneaking out into the night after her brother.

It was windy, the pumpkin patch was eerie at night, like little goblins waiting around, ready to strike at any moment. She shined her flashlight up where the scarecrow should have been. In it's place her brother, shivering in the cold.

"Abel!" Hellen shouted. She held the light between her legs, reaching up to try and untie him.

"He….he's coming." Able wheezed. His eyes were wide, staring at something in the distance. "He's coming for me."

"What?!" Hellen shouted, but she could feel it, the chill on the back of her neck. She looked up, Abel's eyes were red rimmed and filled with fear. He looked down at her.

"Leave." Abel gasped. "Go Hellen!" Hellen kissed her brother's cheek before turning away.

The wind howled and as she ran a piercing scream, blood curdling and filled with agony shook the night. Hellen glanced over her shoulder. What she saw would haunt her for the rest of her days.

Present Day

“I can’t believe you invited her to go with us.” Kennedi rolled her eyes as she hoisted her gym bag over her shoulder. She stood in the lobby with her boyfriend and their friends. Her dig was aimed at him though, Harry, her boyfriend, who had a female roommate she was not fond of.

It wasn’t that she was afraid Harry would sleep with Y/N. No, that would never happen. It was more so the fact that they were so close and she was so weird, yet Harry fawned over everything she did. Like she was the greatest person ever….it was annoying.

“Y/N is my best friend Ken. I can’t exactly leave her behind.”

“Yes you can,” Kennedi hissed. “You’re not joined at the hip.”

“I think Y/N’s cool,” Niall interjected before Harry could say anything. “She looks like she could kick my ass.” Niall had liked Y/N from the moment Harry introduced them. She was more on the punk alternative side with ripped leggings, diy vests and a plethora of band t-shirts. Let’s not forget her Doc Martens that were entirely kick ass by themselves. Kennedi rolled her eyes.

“Whatever Niall, you would.” Kennedi turned her attention back to Harry. “You live with her. You see her everyday. Do you have to invite her everywhere? That’s all I’m asking.” she wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist. “Don’t you want to be alone with me?” Niall rolled his eyes when she bat her lashes at Harry. God she was annoying.

“We will be alone baby,” he kissed the tip of her nose. Niall smirked at the way Kennedi’s face fell, annoyance furrowing her brows. “She’s my best mate. I can’t leave her behind.”

“You can, you just choose not to.” Kennedi pouted. Harry sighed, dropping his arms. “I’m sorry.” she said quickly. “I just...I worry sometimes.” Niall wanted to be sick. She played Harry so easily. He knew the real reason Kennedi hated Y/N was because she knew Harry. Y/N was first, all the time, and that pissed her off. Harry could deny it all he wanted. But everyone knew.

“Look. I gotta go home, but Y/N and I will meet you guys here bright and early in the morning so...be ready to go.” Harry kissed Kennedi once more before leaving the gym.

Harry skipped steps as he made his way up to the flat he shared with Y/N. They had met three years ago when Harry had moved to the states for school. She needed a roommate and he needed a place to stay. Though it had taken a couple months for them to get used to each other, it was true, they were practically joined at the hip at this point.

“Y/N!” he shouted, kicking the door shut with his foot. Their dog, Scrappy, bounded up to him. They weren’t sure what he was, he had been a stray, living outside of their building when they found him. Maybe it was weird for friends that lived together to have a pet. But they did.

“Hey boy,” Harry knelt down, scratching behind Scrappy’s ear. He could smell food cooking in the kitchen and hear what sounded like Iron Maiden, from the kitchen.

Y/N was cooking something Thai, a red bandana around her head, keeping her bangs out of her face. “Hello love,” Harry said, sneaking around her towards the cupboard. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. Anyone watching them would think they were a couple, but they knew better.

“Hey. I’m making chicken teriyaki. Know you’re not much for meat but-”

“No, no,” Harry interrupted. “It’s good.” He filled a cup with tap water, leaning against the counter. “You ready for tomorrow?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer was no.

“You sure I can’t just stay here? I mean, then my mom won’t have to come take care of Scrappy and I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends.” Harry studied her. Y/N was gorgeous, her humor was dark, but she was such a good and caring person. He hated that people judged her for the way she looked, especially his friends.

“Y/N you don’t embarrass me,” he said, grabbing two plates for her and another glass for her to drink out of. “You’re always home. You never go out….I think you could have fun. Kennedi is...tricky,” he said, unable to find the right way to say it, “but Niall is great. You’ll love Elenore and Gigi. Maya and you could get along really well...Louis , Liam and Zayn, they’re fun.” He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I want them to get to know you. To like you as much as I do.”

“Harry,” Y/N said, turning to look at him. Harry was extremely close. Their noses almost brushing as she looked up at him. She’d had feelings for him for a long time, but she knew he would never date her. Guys like him didn’t date girls like her. She was lucky just to be his friend. “I don’t want you to think you always have to invite me.”

“I don’t. I’m asking you.” he poked his lip out, giving her puppy dog eyes. “Please.”

“Harry.” Y/N said, trying not to smile. “Don’t.” he wrapped his arms around her, placing his chin on her shoulder. “Don’t give me that look.” he fake whimpered, giggling at the end and hiding his face in her shoulder. “Okay. Okay.” she laughed, tugging at his arms. “Get off me.” she smirked. “Like I could say no to you anyway.”

That night Y/N crawled into bed, burrowing into the blankets.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to be friends with his friends. She was a loner, granted she had a couple of friends of her own, she preferred her own company. That was until Harry entered her life. He was sweet and fun to be around, he didn’t care how much she liked horror films or if she preferred the pit at a rock concert to front row tickets to see Ariana Grande (she’d gone, much to Kennedi’s dismay.) Harry just fit. He was her one ‘normal.’ Her one piece of consistency. But she hated feeling like she was holding him back.

“I’m going to have fun tomorrow.” she sighed, looking at the ceiling. “I’m going to have fun on this trip.”

It was a grave. Six feet deep, already laid out in front of her. The cemetery was dark, wind howling around her. The headstone was blank. She stepped forward, fear gripping her belly, she looked down into the grave-

Beep. Beep.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open. Her body drenched with sweat. She threw her hand over her face, groaning. Why did she agree to get up at six am. Why did she agree to this.

Harry was already awake when Y/N came out of her room. Dressed in sweats and an oversized Meat Puppets t shirt, her hair tossed into a messy bun. Harry was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, phone in one hand, cup of coffee in the other. He was shirtless, his basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. He smiled up at Y/N, pointing at a plate of eggs and toast on the table.

“Made you breakfast.”

“Thanks.” Y/N smiled, sitting down. Harry watched her as she scratched her head, stretching her arms up before digging in. He smiled to himself. He thought she was always prettiest like this. No makeup, baggy, comfy clothes, hair out of her face. He could watch her all day. It was moments like this, when he was alone with her here, he would pretend they were more. He would pretend she was his wife and this was their home. He would never tell her that, he didn’t think she could ever like him as much as he liked her. That’s why he was with Kennedi. He needed to get over it. Y/N was his friend. Only his friend.

Y/N could feel Harry’s eyes on her. She cleared her throat, looking up at him. He was watching her with such intensity, she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Harry?” he blinked, looking at her. “Might want to get dressed. We gotta leave in like an hour.” she smiled softly, watching his cheeks go red.

“R-right.” he stuttered. Y/N watched as he downed the rest of his coffee.

“You know, you could have gotten into the back seat after we picked everyone up.” Harry said as he pulled the van up to the gym. His friends were waiting outside. Y/N rolled her eyes, tapping away on her phone.

“And let the princess see me sitting next to you? God forbid.” Harry’s jaw twitched but he didn’t say anything. He knew she was right. If Y/N was sat up front by him, Kennedi would blow a gasket. That wasn’t something Harry was looking forward to. He had hoped maybe on this trip they’d get to know each other. Maybe get along. But he was doubting that seriously.

“Harry!” Kennedi squealed, she hopped into the front seat, pressing her lips to Harry’s. Her eyes flickered to the backseat, disappointed to find Y/N wasn’t watching. She would get it through her head this weekend though. Harry was hers. And she wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that.

Y/N took her head phones out as the back door opened and Harry’s friends clammerd in. The one named Niall sat beside her. “Hi,” she did her best to smile at him.

“Hey,” he gestured to her phone. “What are you listening to?” he asked.

“Oh,” she held out an earbud. “Black Flag.”

“No shit.” Niall sounded impressed. “Lemme listen yeah?”

Harry couldn’t stop glancing into the rearview mirror. Niall and Y/N sat closely together, talking and whispering to each other. He felt the weight of Kennedi’s hand in his but also the raging jealousy. He wanted to be back there with Y/N.

About an hour into their trip Harry pulled up to a rundown gas station. As he pulled in an old man and his son came out of the building.

“Everybody out! Stretch ya legs!” Harry shouted. Niall let Y/N go first, before hopping down out of the van after her. He stumbled slightly, reaching for her hand as he righted himself.

“Careful there,” Y/N smiled. Niall reached out, gently grabbing her waist. Y/N felt herself leaning up, eyes closing softly-

“Y/N!” Y/N’s head turned sharply. Harry was glaring at her and Niall. “Can I talk to you?” Niall smirked, letting her go.

He was gonna get through to both of them by the end of this trip. It amazed Niall how blind the two of them could be. I mean, he didn’t even know Y/N but could tell she had some major feelings for Harry.

“What’s up?” Y/N asked as Harry pumped the gas. Harry looked down at her, trying not to let his irritation at Niall show.

“What’re you and Niall doing?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“Just….just be careful please. I love Ni but-”

“Harry.” Y/N cut him off. “Harry this is what you wanted. For me to get along with your friends. That’s what I’m doing right?” Harry huffed, looking away. “Harry you’re not my boyfriend….you can’t tell me you want me to be friends with your friends and then two seconds later get mad when I do.” she glanced over his shoulder. “And Kennedi’s watching….Look I don’t want any drama okay.” Y/N turned away quickly. Just as Kennedi was walking up on him. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright babe?" She asked. Harry nodded.

They got in the van and continued on their way. Louis and Zayn passed around a joint. Y/N talked with Gigi and Maya. They were sweet and Liam was adorable with Maya. Harry stayed up front with Kennedi. He hated hearing Y/N's laugh and not knowing what she was laughing at. He hated that she was having fun without him.

"Hey! Hey!" Gigi crawled over Y/N's lap, pointing out the window. A sign reading 'Grover's Pumpkin Patch' was passing them by. "Come on Harry! Let's stop!"

"We haven't even gotten to the cabin yet." Kennedi complained. Gigi rolled her eyes.

"So? We can take some with us to carve." Kennedi huffed, crossing her arms as Harry made the turn towards the pumpkin patch. Y/N took Niall's hand as they made their way down the dirt path. An old house sat at the top of the hill, the wood rotted and flung apart. An old woman came out to the porch as Harry parked in front of the house, everyone filing out of the van.

"Welcome to Grover's Pumpkin Patch. How can I help ya'll?" She had thin white hair and coke bottle glasses, crows feet withered around her watery blue eyes. Her gingham dress blew gently in the breeze. Harry stepped up, shaking her hand.

"Hi! 'm Harry. We were wonderin' if we could get some pumpkins?" She smiled, her eyes meeting Y/N's, there was something about the woman that put Y/N off though. She wasn't comfortable.

"10 dollars. You each can pick one." Harry grinned, reaching into his pocket. "Just stay away from the Scarecrow." She pointed over their shoulder. A scarecrow stood in the middle of the field, with a jack o lantern head. Kennedi snorted.

"What's that supposed to be?" Harry pinched her side and the woman narrowed her eyes.

"That is the alter to Punkinhead."

"Punkinhead?" Y/N repeated. "Who's that?"

"He's a demon. He fetches souls for the Underworld. If you done someone wrong they can summon him, and he won't rest until you're dead." Y/N's blood ran cold, the dream the night before flashing once more in her mind.

"Sounds scary." Kennedi said sarcastically, "lets go Harry. Get the stupid pumpkin so we can get to the cabin." She tugged on his arm as the group followed them. Y/N lingered by the old woman.

"It's true you know….you seem like you have sense." Y/N nodded.

"I should….I should go."

"Godspeed."

"Kennedi." Y/N said, her voice shaking with unease. "I don't think you should do that." She looked to Harry, hoping he would say something to his girlfriend, but he only glanced at Y/N and pursed his lips.

Kennedi had made her way straight to the Scarecrow. The old woman had annoyed her and she was gonna show her. She wasn't afraid of anything, especially not some stupid story.

"Kennedi." Her eyes flickered towards Y/N, she looked genuinely terrified. "Don't."

"Ooh." Kennedi said, her tone mocking as she grabbed the scarecrow's head. "Is Punkinhead gonna get me?" She yanked the head off the scarecrow, throwing it to the ground. Y/N shivered at the noise it made on impact, squishy as it split apart. Kennedi hopped down from the post, wiping her hands.

"Kennedi." Niall scolded. She rolled her eyes.

"Come on. I don't believe in stupid horror stories. Punkinhead is about as real as the Boogeyman." She nudged Niall hard in the shoulder as she yanked Harry back towards the car.

Y/N stood rooted to the spot, staring at the smashed pumpkin. A chilly breeze swept over her and her stomach was churning.

"She shouldn't have done that." She finally said, turning to look at Niall. "I have a really bad feeling." Niall shook his head, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turning them back to the car.

"I don't like her either Y/N but you shouldn't worry. Punkinhead is just a story....an urban legend." Y/N looked back at the house as they got into the car. The old woman stood on her porch, still watching them. As they made eye contact the feelings grew. Y/N didn't know what it was, but something bad was on the horizon.

Hellen went back into her house. She went into her bedroom, kneeling down she ripped up the floorboard and pulled out an old book. She brought it to the kitchen, slamming it on the table.

"Stupid kids. They'll learn." She growled, flipping through the pages. "Here it is." She said, stopping suddenly.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, please keep me blinded from the sight. When Punkinhead appears tonight. Appease the soul, save the right, bad blood will feed this patch tonight."

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #hs fandom #hs imagine #hs fanfic #hs2 #hs1

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magical-grrrl-mavis · 4 years ago

Text

Sibling AU

because apparently this is a thing I've got on my mind now. (Probs won't be writing it any time soon but I have a primal need to info dump, and maybe I'll inspire someone else.)

Characters

Eda Clawthorn - Canon Eda: She's Eda. She loves all 3 Noceda girls but is closest to Luz

King - Canon King: He's King.

Lucia Noceda - Beta Luz: Her weirdness is sorta toned down compared to Canon Luz. She's a bit more angsty. Reeeaaaally needs to smile more. Absolute D E L I N Q U E N T. Get’s into trouble on purpose, be gay do C R I M E. Feral. Totally down to help with Eda’s less honorable schemes. Tries to seem more “over it” and grown up but is secretly just as enthusiastic as Luz. She's more closed off, her life’s been a bit harder. Very protective of Luz and Laia, DO NOT fuck with them in front of her. Ready and willing to throw down. Deeeeeefinitely not hopelessly in love with Amelia. Age 17

Luz Noceda - Canon Luz. You know her, you love her. Age 14

Laia Noceda - Pilot Luz: Just as weird as Luz but a bit more laid back and shy. Doesn’t like putting herself out there quite as much as Luz, but gets dragged into her schemes a lot. Huge nerdy bookworm but perfectly capable of being flirty. Actually pretty confident with Anna. Too precious for this world. Is babey. Sits back and observes her sisters antics bc she's actually got a little sense. Age 13

Amelia Blight - Beta Amity: Cold but F E R A L. Doesn't even try to be the little miss perfect anymore but will pretend in front of parents. C H A R I S M A. Will fuck you up. Sorta pyromaniac but not like crazy, just good w/ fire magic and feels calm when she watches flames. Will burn you to ash if you hurt Amity or Anna. Rolls eyes at the twins antics. “You were going to do WHAT with Amity’s diary!?” Lotta internalized shit from her treatment by her parents. THIS CLOSE to burning down Blight manor. “If I have zero friends nobody can hurt me”. Lucia really throws a wrench in that plan. Toooootally not madly in love with Lucia. Natural greenhead but constantly dyes her roots brown as a form of small rebellion and solidarity with Amity and Anna. Age 17

Edric Blight - Canon Edric: You know him. Age 16

Emira Blight - Canon Emira: You know her. Age 16

Amity Blight - Canon Amity: Our girl! Age 14

Anna Blight - pilot Amity: Is babey. Loves books. Shy and tries to stick silently to the background. Just so sweet and precious. PROTECC HER. Tries to do the right thing. Like, ALL her siblings do their best to protect her from her parents. Not good with people at all. Age 13.

Winona Park - Beta Willow: You've seen Dana’s drawing of her. This shady bitch. She knows all your secrets. She will use them against you. Likes a little trouble but doesn't get caught. Ever. By the time you figure out what rule she broke she's already won the game. Don't. Touch. Willow. T R O U B L E. Loner until Lucia came along. Just does not care about anything. Doesn't even try in school but is still almost as good as Amelia. Not quite as powerful as Willow but still powerful. “What happens if I press this button.” Age 17

Willow Park - Canon Willow: You know her, stronk cinnamon roll. Age 14

Gus Porter - Canon Gus: Boy needs more character development. Age 12

(Story might not go quite like I'm describing it here but it's pretty close.)

Eda was going to eat King when they first met, they tell it like it's just some cute story.

Camilia was going to send both Luz and Laia to normal-person-camp but didn’t even try with Lucia bc she's clearly a lost cause. Lucia waited for the bus with them though, and she and Laia both followed Luz through the portal. Luz was the one who decided to stay on the isles, Laia just agreed bc she also hated the idea of camp, and being a witch sounded fun. Lucia agreed bc “well I'm not leaving my fucking siblings in another dimension on their own” but also was jumping up and down inside at the idea of being a witch.

Lucia and Laia were just vibing at the owl house during Witches Before Wizards because nobody told them shit.

Luz and Laia both went to the school in I Was a Teenage Abomination, Lucia didn’t bc “school? Why would I willingly go to school?” so she wandered off to town to do GOD knows what. Laia just hid in the bottom of the pot, but wandered off, Anna helped save her and get her out in the end. Later, at the covention, Laia gave Anna the “thanks pal” drawing.

Luz and Laia were both captivated by Eda’s magic lesson in Intrudor, Lucia was just hanging back with her arms crossed like she didn't care but inside she was going “I'm gonna be a witch! I'm gonna be a witch!”. Luz discovered the light glyph but Lucia came up with the idea of sticking it on the wall.

At the covention, Lucia saw Amelia and was actually gonna go over and be flirty bc Hot Witch Girl, but then she overheard her talking to Amity about her fighting Luz and instantly big sister mode. They got into a fist fight out back over “my sister’s better than yours.” their relationship after that is just Lucia constantly antagonizing Amelia and almost getting burned. Anna just stayed by the sidelines at the covention and Laia didn't see her until the very end, talked a bit and gave her the drawing b4 being dragged out by Eda.

Laia helped w/ the moonlight conjuring, but Lucia heard "night market" and sneaked off there. She didn't see Eda'z predicament but did run into Winona, who was making trouble and just being generally shady. Lucia helped her out with the shady business because why not and they were instantly friends, their friendship has a lot of Lucia going “you scare me sometimes.”

Laia went to the Library with Luz, she saw Anna just hanging out reading in the corner and immediately went over and sat by her. They were in Amity’s hideout sitting real close reading when Luz and the twins walked in, they left immediately, Anna red as a tomato.

The second Eda said body swap Lucia scooped Laia up and noped on out. It sounded fun to Lucia but for some reason she didn't feel comfortable subjecting Laia to that.

Laia and Lucia went with Eda when she talked to Bump abt enrolling them and just sat back and watched Eda clean up all her messes. Lucia was impressed.

Laia was just as excited to go to Hexside as Luz. But Lucia hated school, even magic school. She only decided to go to keep an eye on her sisters and fuck with Amelia.

Neither Laia note Lucia were interested in going to the Grudgby match. Laia stayed home and read (on the couch. She was so engrossed in her book she missed king walking out with half-transformed Eda) and Lucia went to hang out with Winona.

Laia and Anna worked together on a book for the writing contest. It won. Lucia wrote one too but it git rejected for being too graphic. It made one of the judges who read it start seeing a therapist.

All three went to the knee. Lucia went along with Eda'z crazy teaching because it seemed hysterical to her crackheaded mind, she missed the whole Slitherbeast thing bc she was off with moss in her ears, dirt over her eyes and pine needle mulch in her nose. Laia was incredibly disappointed that Anna wasn't there with the other blights. She didn't even try to stop Luz from stealing the wand bc she knew she wouldn't listen. She was just as impatient as Luz, just not rash. They figured out the ice glyph together.

Lucia chose the bard track in First Day bc she wants to be in a band. Laia couldn't choose just like Luz and got stuck in the Oracle Coven. Lucia got caught just like Luz and ended up in the detention track, Barkus was a bit more wary about her. She helped fight the basalisk I guess. Laia just stayed in class. Both Luz and Laia got to be in every track, Lucia chose only Bard, Beast Keeping and Illusion.

When Luz and co were shrunk at the carnival, Laia was off hanging out with Anna, and Lucia was doing something crackheaded with Winona. (Seriously, you could write such good fluff fics about Anna and Laia, and insane crack fics about Lucia and Winona.)

Idfk what Laia and Lucia were up top in Understanding Willow

Anna and Laia went to Grom together. They're such unassuming people that the only people who noticed were Eda and King bc they helped Laia get ready, and Amelia. Who had very mixed feelings bc 1- that's Lucia's sister, but 2- she actually kinda likes Laia and Luz.

Lucia begged Luz to let her take over as Grom queen but no dice. She ran to help too when Luz ran off but was too slow, she didn't get there until the very end of the dance.

Look, Laia is too much of a bookworm to care about sports and Lucia just thinks their stupid, so neither of them watched Luz play in Wing it like Witches.

Eda made cloaks for all 3 girls. Lucia and Laia were in the wrong year to go on the field trip to the emperor's palace. After school Laia went to the library with Anna and Lucia went to hang out with Winona. Laia and Anna fell asleep reading in Amity's secret room and Lucia and Winona lost track of time hanging out, neither got home until the next morning, and they found Luz crying on the floor.

Imagine with me, all 3 noceda girls breaking into the conformatorium to save Eda. All three wailing on Belos, Laia with a fuck ton of glyph papers, Luz with Eda's staff and some glyphs, and Lucia with a red aluminum bat covered in glyphs. They don't beat him but they do a lot more damage than just chiping his mask.

Imagine all 3 sisters agreeing silently to destroy the portal. For Eda.

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calitraditionalism · 4 years ago

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Arc Two: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Mistface would be lying if he said he wasn’t entirely disgusted with his task.

He could see Snowshine from here – she was a pretty white molly with yellow eyes, and she was currently pulling a squirrel from the oversized prey pile. She looked a little anxious… perhaps ‘stressed’, rather, was the right word. Her fur was fluffy, and Mistface could guess that it was normally very well groomed and smoothed down. Right now, it looked like she had slept on it wrong, and then kept turning over in her sleep to make all of it stick out at odd angles.

“Prime for flattery and a kind conversation,” Darkpelt had said to him. “So pour on the charm and pretend you give a hoot about her problems.”

Mistface didn’t like other cats at the best of times. Actively having to seek one out and act interested in them was like finding a stinking, rotting piece of meat in the grass and being told to eat it with a genuine smile.

Nevertheless, he had a mission (why had he agreed to this again?), so he gently shook out his fur, let it settle, and sauntered forward for the prey-pile.

Snowshine glanced up as he approached and blinked in surprise. He smiled pleasantly at her and sniffed a mouse.

“They make prey so much better ‘round these parts,” he said in his news-and-weather voice. “Marshes must take the taste right out of whatever StarClan sends down.”

Snowshine relaxed and some of her fur flattened, though it was still awkwardly angled. “I haven’t really been anywhere but here. You’re from the south? Scattered, I'm guessing?”

“That I am.” Mistface tilted his head and crinkled his eyes in fake amusement. “Accent give it away?”

She laughed a little. “Just a bit.” She looked him over with roaming eyes. Mistface tried not to get annoyed. “I don’t think I heard your name when you came in. You were with that blind molly, right?”

“Mm.” He tilted his head a little to the left with a winning smile. “I’m Mistface.”

“Oh!” Snowshine perked up even more. “Then you’re Greyleaf’s brother! He’s always talking about you and your mother.”

“Oh, dear.” Mistface made a face of pretend worry. “Must not have a real good impression of me, then.”

“Actually, he has nothing but nice things to say about you,” Snowshine hurried to reply. “He says you’re really charming and kind.”

“We’ll have to see if that’s the case, then, won’t we?” Mistface said, giving her an appraising look. She suddenly seemed a little shy. He wanted to vomit.

Snowshine shuffled her feet and pointed with her tail to a rare grassy spot just beyond a pair of houses. “I, um, usually eat over there, if you want to come with. It’s a lot warmer than anywhere else in the village.”

“That’d be nice.” Mistface picked up a random piece of prey (a black bird of some kind) and waited for her to do the same with her meal before walking with her to the grass. He was very grateful he didn’t have to say anything now that his mouth was occupied.

Once they were settled across from each other, Mistface started pulling some of the feathers off of his prey’s belly. “I do have to ask – you’re a seer, I'm guessin'. And a real good one, goin’ by your suffix. What are you doin’ here in Clast?”

“Oh, well…” Snowshine swallowed the mouthful of squirrel she had already taken. “Everywhere needs a seer. And now, with Redheart doing her… thing... the actual Clast cats need someone to sort of be in charge.” She gave a weak chuckle, seemingly to herself. “They’re not too happy with her bringing in a bunch of strangers that don’t want to fight.”

“Y’all have plenty of loners come in, though, don’t you?”

“Yes, definitely, but they’re at least here to test their strength, and then they leave.” Snowshine sighed. “Not that I like them barging in all the time, but the rest of Clast does. These new cats are just here because of Redheart’s new ideas. They turn down too many fights for Clast’s liking. And, well, Redheart acting so odd anyway…”

Mistface had the sneaking suspicion that Snowshine did not voice her thoughts too often to anyone around the settlement. Suddenly, now that someone was listening and apparently caring, she was off. Mistface simply nodded and let her go about her new duties and how Redheart was this and that, and on and on, while he ate his bird.

“…I mean, I haven’t even been able to go to the Lighthouse, I’ve been so busy. StarClan can speak to us anywhere, I know, but sleeping at the very bridge to heaven is the best way to talk directly.”

She paused for breath, and Mistface took the opportunity to comment, “And StarClan can’t reach you at all if you leave with Redheart, I’m guessin’.”

“She’d like that,” Snowshine said, with a sudden darkness. “She’s always been weird about StarClan. Never even thinks to just have me ask them what to do about whatever problems come up, even for big things.” She looked around and leaned in a little, Mistface copying her, and whispered, “I think it’s just because she has these nightmares now and then. She thinks that StarClan’s giving her the silent treatment, so she’s getting bad dreams instead of visits from our ancestors.”

Nightmares… Mistface hummed in thought, keeping his voice low. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but my brother has the same problem.”

“Really?” Snowshine’s eyes widened.

“He’s had nightmares all his life.” Mistface knew that Greyleaf didn’t consider this particular fact a secret, but pretending to share some intimate detail with Snowshine would only help her trust him more, so he continued with his conspiring tone. “StarClan’s never talked to him, either.”

Snowshine nodded like he had given her the answer to all of life’s questions. “That must be why they get along so well, then.”

“Mm.” Mistface drew his head back, but stayed quiet. “Any other seers ‘round here that could help?”

“Well, we have the one that came in.” Snowshine made a slightly distasteful face. “Starkfeather. But he’s… not exactly someone I would go out of my way to talk to about stuff like this. I don’t know that he’d be particularly helpful.”

Mistface winked. “Not on your level, at least, I take it.”

Snowshine smiled bashfully and Mistface silently cursed Darkpelt for making him do this. “Maybe not… an apprentice arrived one day that used to train as a seer, but she’s going to be a warrior instead, so I didn’t want to bother her and ask.”

Snowshine started again on her rambling, this time about the various new cats that had come in recently. Mistface listened solely because she could say something important.

She didn’t.

He did not like her.

---

When night arrived, everyone settled in to sleep, except for Beetlefoot. He instead took the opportunity to pretend take a walk and enjoy the night sky. When he was far enough away from the eyes and ears of the Clast camp, he took off north, never once looking upward (it was a waste of time).

He was lucky enough to meet no one on his path – during the living years, everyone stayed in underground dens or moved to whatever trees or shelter they could find to escape the rain. There was no rain tonight, but clouds were coming again from the coast. Even this far away, Beetlefoot could gather that Petrichor and Derecho, the aspects of storms, would be arriving soon with a determination to soak the earth.

Which means he would leave footprints on his next trip, if he wasn’t careful.

Beetlefoot caught a scent of a familiar cat and slowed down to a loping canter. He lifted his head up again, keeping his chest puffed out as well as he could while staying at his current speed. He already knew how this was going to go for him. Drop off the information, be dismissed, leave without another word. Other Fleet members liked to swap conversations. Just not usually with him.

Never a change in that, until Nettlecloud and her strange sons.

He saw a cat rise from the grass and turn to face him, soon followed by four others. He slowed again, this time to his regular trot, and nodded sharply once he was within earshot. He stopped a few feet away from the leader, a grey molly with a heavily scared muzzle, and stood about as tall as he could. He was still much shorter than everyone else.

“Beetlefoot, yeah?” the molly said. “Clean path here?”

“Yes.” Beetlefoot dipped his head. “No thorns on the way, Shreddednose.”

He didn’t particularly like trading the common polite phrases with other members of the Fleet, but it was all he usually got in the way of conversation, so he took it. It was just good to be greeted at all by one of the more prolific patrollers in the Fleet.

A lanky black molly took several long steps forward. “What’ve you got for us?”

This, he thought, was Striderfoot. He had only met her once, and she had been similarly brisk. He could respect that. “Information about Redheart.”

He recited everything Darkpelt and Mistface had gathered and given him – leaving out, he noted with pride, absolutely nothing. Striderfoot narrowed her eyes, listening carefully, until he concluded. She looked at Shreddednose.

“You got everything?” Shreddednose said.

“Everything,” Striderfoot affirmed. “Want me to head off now?”

“You might as well.” Shreddednose tapped Striderfoot’s side with her tail. “Frostclaw can go with you, if you want. That predator and all.”

“What, and be slowed down by her lumbering rump?” Striderfoot said, and grinned when a white molly came up and bopped her. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be light by the time I get there.”

“Then try to be safe for once,” Shreddednose said fondly.

“Of course.” Striderfoot turned, nodded at Beetlefoot, and said quiet goodbyes to the rest of her team before taking off at a sprint (I could outrun her, Beetlefoot thought snippily).

Shreddednose smiled, then returned to professionalism when she looked back at Beetlefoot. “Nothing else?”

Beetlefoot pretended he didn’t feel a little deflated. “Nothing else.”

“Chase the wind, then.” Shreddednose bowed her head.

“Only the warmest breezes.” Beetlefoot mirrored her gesture to her, then to the others, who looked indifferent to his existence. He whirled around and sprinted off, hastening to leave the situation before it turned awkward.

He was right, at least. He could outrun her.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter four #dullard #mistface #snowshine #beetlefoot #shreddednose #striderfoot

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walkingdeadjunkie · 5 years ago

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Southern Comfort [Merle Dixon x Reader]

Requested by: negansgirl06

I was hopping for something where the reader promises Merle that she doesn’t cut he/her self anymore and when Merle our she’s been doing it agin he makes her promise to stop and it ends in some really cute fluffy cuddles? (I’m not sure if you write about angst but I figured what’s the harm I’m asking)

Summary: Merle Dixon was the last person on earth who you thought would give a shit about anybody but himself. But the man had a soft spot for loners. And that's what you were.

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: self-harm, swearing and attempted suicide.

Word count: 2,885

GIF isn’t mine, but please check out the blog for the lovely person who made it!

You’ve cut too deep this time and now blood is dripping all over the tent floor. You throw your overshirt onto it and wipe it up as best you can then bring your arm to your chest and slide outside. You need to get to the water and clean it up before it attracts the attention of the others or walkers. It’s dark out here but with one arm out of commission and the other supporting it, you aren’t able to carry a lantern and instead rely on the moonlight to help you down the small walkway and rush to the lake. Stumbling on this and tripping over that. You think of them as you make your way down so carelessly. Your brother, sister and mother. All of whom were torn into ribbons right in front of your eyes by neighbors you’d known longer than your runaway father. People who cared for you since the tender age of three- people who were also dead.

You come to the water and kneel at it. There’s no tears that escape your eyes because they’d dried up a long time ago, that’s why the cutting helps. It gives you an emotional release that nothing else does. You’re about to stick your arm in when a hand wraps around your shoulder and you look up to see the frightening half of the Dixon brothers looming close. You startle then fall back onto the cut arm and cry out. He makes no move to help you and your arm returns to the cradled position it was in before.

“Don’ wan’a puh ya arm ‘n there darlin’, shit’ll make ya sicker than a man who sticks his dick ‘n a mule.” His back is against the moonlight and it reaffirms just how hulking he is. Merle squats down and holds a hand out. Your heart is racing by his sudden attendance. “Ain’ gon’ hurt ya fancy lady. Done ‘nough a tha’ ya self.” You chew on your lip and think about the risks. It doesn’t seem like he has ill intentions at all and so you lay the back of your arm on his open palm. He brings it close up to himself then tuts and clicks his tongue. “Well fuckin’ ‘ell, did a numb’a on yaself didn’ ya?” You stay quiet and he looks over. “Got anotha shirt?”

“What?”

“Got anotha shirt?” You didn’t want to answer, the question felt unsafe. “Oh fuckin’ ‘ell, course ol’ Merle’s tha fuckin’ cunt who gotta tear ‘is shit up for a damn city woman.” He lets go of your arm and your eyes widen when he grips the bottom of his singlet and lifts it high. You shift yourself back and begin to whimper.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You beg softly. He freezes for a moment, then lets the singlet fall back down.

“I ain’ a fuckin’ rapist ya bitch. I ain’ even lookin’ at ya skeleton ass- uppity lil shit ain’ ya?” He says roughly. You feel guilty instantly. “Ya need ta wrap ya fuckin’ arm ‘for ya blackout ‘n die.” He pulls the singlet all the way off and tears the bottom of it like butter. Quickly he lines up the fabric at the beginning of the cut, loops it around the limb and looks up. “’s gon’ fuckin’ hurt fancy lady so bite ya otha arm.” You do as he says and when he tightens it your teeth sink into the skin and you let out a muffled moan. “Now hol’ it up.”

You do just that. The thumping and pulsing in your arm is worse than the cutting was and the man throws his singlet back on. You’re too busy floating around in your own world of pain to really pay attention to him until a shuffling sound catches your interest and you look up to see him with his hand out again.

“Need’a get ya ass inside woman.” You look at his hand again and back at him. You still can’t make out his expression but he helped you and so there’s a slither of trust between you both. You put your hand in his and he helps you stand then lets go. “Why’d ya do it?”

“I’m sad.” You reply simply.

He laughs loudly.

“Well, fuckin’ do some oth’r shit.” Your brows come together while he steps away to create more space.

“It’s not that easy.” You reply with mild frustration.

“Well ol’ Merle’s got drugs if ya wan’ black out ‘nstead?” He offers easily, like it was normal to do so.

“No. Those are bad for you.”

“An’ cuttin’ ya shit up ain’? Least ya’ll die happier bein’ high on rocks den bleedin’ out by a blade.”

You realise then just how monumentally different you are regardless of the background or personality. He’s a tweaker and you’re sober. You should have picked up on the signs a lot earlier- but at least he was nice.

“I’m fine.” You reply stiffly. He lets out an amused chuckle and stretches out.

“Nah, ya ain’ tha’s why ya fuckin’ did tha’ and told me ya sad.” He sighs and faces you completely with his arms crossed. There’s a long silence before he continues. “Dun do tha’ shit ta yaself fancy.”

The glare is instant. Your face is exposed to the light unlike his so you know he can see it.

“Why the hell do you care? We don’t know each other. This is our first conversation.”

“I see ya wanderin’ ‘round woman, all mopey and alone. I’m a lon’a too, buh I goh lucky wit’ lil Darylina. You didn’. Us kind gotta look out for one anoth’a.” He replies simply.

“Is that why you’re out here? You’re following me?” He laughs heartily and you feel embarrassed for what he’ll say next because it seems like you were the last thing on his mind.

“Get off ya fuckin’ high horse lady. I came ouh ‘ere ta smoke a bowl ‘nd saw ya dumbass trippin’ down tha hill.” He cracks his knuckles before continuing. “I’m gon’ need ya ta reassure ol’ Merle ‘ere sugar, cause he’s worried ‘bout ya. This ain’ normal shit and it’ll only get worse.”

“Why do you need my word?” And why are you worried about me, you think.

“Cause this is fucked up. If ya sad talk ta me, if ya hate me talk ta Darylina. He’s soft like ya. Ya don’ need’a do this ta ya’self. Shit’s hard- yea. Buh ya makin’ it harder.”

Maybe he really was just trying to be nice but you’ve never spoken to this man before and you sure as hell did not need to promise him anything. But he seems like the stubborn kind and so you grind your teeth and answer stiffly.

“Fine. I won’t.” He rubs his hands together then points one of them up the hill.

“Well tha’s dandy fancy pan’s. Now get back ta ya tent and ol’ Merle’s gon’ carry on ‘is night.” You roll your eyes and move around him to return to the camp. You owe Merle nothing and you will do whatever the hell you want.

It’s been a week since your run in with Merle Dixon and you haven’t spoken to him since. He leaves you alone and does whatever he does but every once and a while Daryl will give you a nod when your paths cross. The group here is flimsy and there’s a lot of competing egos and personality clashes in it. It’s enough to make you realize how much you don’t want to be here anymore. You spend the morning helping the women clean, barely listening to their conversations but nodding along with what they say like you were. You’ve already made your mind up on what you want to do and stole one of the men’s blades when they weren’t looking since yours went ‘mysteriously’ missing the day after you spoke to Merle.

You’re deep in the woods now. You had hoped to come across a walker to throw yourself at but all of the ones you see have arrows in their heads already. So now it’s left up to you.

This spot is nice enough.

With a flick of your wrist the blade is unsheathed from its handle. You fall onto your knees and cut your hand to check how sharp it is, it’s decent enough to get through a windpipe. With one last prayer and the smiling faces of your family in mind, your eyes close and the metal presses against the skin of your neck. You only manage to slide it less than an inch across when your wrist is squeezed so hard that you cry out and drop it. When you look up Merle is the one you see, his expression is furious and it panics you instantly. He kicks the knife far before yanking you up with a grunt.

“Wha’ tha fuck are a doin?! Ya fuckin crazy bitch. Tha’s tha fuckin worse way ta die!” His volume stings your ears and makes you feel small. But the shock wears off fast and you remember why you’re out here.

“Let me go!” You scream while struggling to pull yourself away. “I’ll fucking stab you before I kill myself if you don’t do it!” You continue to struggle against him but the man is made of concrete and he easily keeps you in place.

Your threat is nothing anyway, one half-assed slap and he could knock you into next year.

“Ya gave me ya word.” He growls. Brows together and creasing a line between them.

“I don’t care! My choices aren’t yours you hick. Fuck off!” He doesn’t flinch at the insult. He’s been called a lot worse no doubt and something so generic bounces off of him like styrofoam.

You kick at his legs and he waits until the steam runs out and you’re left breathing heavily. When you stop resisting he lets you go with a frown. For some reason or another you find yourself wrapping your arms around his middle and bunching the back of his shirt with your hands. You feel it then, a wetness on Merle’s shirt that tells you that you’re finally crying. After so long of nothing it comes out like a burst dam and you can’t stop. Your body is shaking and his hands are on your back while his head rests on yours.

“Ya gon’ be alrigh’. Shit’s jus’ hard at tha’ momen’. Life ain’ tha same way.” He says.

After a while the sobs turn into sniffles and then become whimpers. He’s warm and hard, like a stiff hot water bottle that makes you feel a comfort you hadn’t in a long time.

“I don’t want to be here Merle.” You admit. The grip on you is tightened a little more. “I hate these people, I hate what we’re doing, I hate everything.” He puts a hand on either arm and keeps you in place so he can step back. There’s nothing particularly soft in his expression, but he does seem aware and his attention is yours completely.

“Hate it all baby doll, buh don’ let it kill ya off. We’re all gon’ die. Buh die fightin’ fa somethin’, helpin’ someone- ya don’ like these people? Hell, neith’a do me or Darylina. Buh it works fa now, it ain’ gon’ be forever.” He replies.

You shake your head and break the stare for a moment.

“I can’t help anyone.” You whisper. “I couldn’t help my family so how the hell can I do anything?” Your gazes meet again. “These people don’t need me.”

He lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes. You didn’t expect something like that in such a sensitive situation but it does make everything feel less tense.

“Ya don’ know tha’. Ya migh’ be tha one cunt ‘round who will kill a walker tha’s about ta bite someone. Don’ blame yaself fa wha’s already done. Ain’ no manual on how ta survive a dam’ apocalypse and keep ya people ta’gether.” There’s nothing in his words that feel forced.

“I should have done more.” You say softly.

“Do more now.” He counters.

“But what if I do something wrong? What if somebody needs my help and I fuck up again?” The tears threaten to come back and you have to chew on your lip to keep it together.

He shakes his head.

“At leas’ ya fuckin’ tried fancy ‘n tha’s wha’ matters.” He stands tall again and brings you in for another hug that feels more intimate than it did before, like he cares. “ Ol’ Merle’s gon’ teach ya a few thin’s. Shit that’ll help ya feel strong an’ safe.”

“Like what?”

“Fightin’, huntin’, how ta kill a dam’ walker so ya don’ feel like ya can’. Shit that’ll make ya see how important it is ta be alive fa yaself an’ other fuckers.” He lets out a sigh that you feel deflate in his chest. “Ya ain’ gon’ be alone again.”

“You don’t know that.” You reply with a scoff.

“I fuckin’ dam’ well do woman. Only a Dixon can kill’a Dixon. An’ Darylina ain’ killin’ me yet.” The comment doesn’t make any sense to you because it isn’t true but you don’t correct him. His words feel nice. “And if he do, then ya still go’ ‘im. He’ll watch ou’ fa ya.”

You laugh at the comment and if your head could shake you’d do it.

“We’ve never spoken before Merle.” You say. “I doubt that.”

He lets out a laugh and once again you’re thrown off.

“Well don’ cause he’s tha only reason I knew ya fucked off ou’ ‘ere. An’ why ya didn’ get ya ass eaten by a fuckin’ walker. Cause he don’ wan’ ya dead neither.” You loosen your hold a little and the pieces begin to come together.

“He saw me come in here? Those arrows were his?” You ask.

“Sure as shit did. Boy walks like tha wind. Got a head’a ya ta kill ‘em off while I followed behind. Told ya woman, us lon’as gotta stick ta’getha like flies on shit.” He boasted proudly.

Despite the crudeness of the comment you hold Merle tighter and the tears come back again.

The Dixon brothers were the last men on earth that you ever thought would give a shit about you, yet they did. They cared enough to keep you alive, to show you that they were worried and gave you the time of day when nobody else has. Because they were alone too.

You pull far enough away to still be in his hold and he looks down, eyes widening a little as you tug him down by the front of his singlet. You stretch high enough to reach his cheek and plant a soft kiss on it. When you pull away from the embrace Merle stands tall with a high brow then looks you over slowly. He hasn’t said anything yet. But you know that whatever comes out isn’t going to be as platonic as it was when he was comforting you.

He lets out a low whistle.

“Well goddam’ fancy, if I knew ya would’a done tha’ ol’ Merle ‘ere would’a turned ‘is charm on ta get a little more.” He says throatily with wiggling brows.

Your eyes roll and you wipe at your face with a tired sigh.

“Don’t ruin the moment Dixon.” You say dryly.

“Oh I can make this momen’ even bett’a darlin’. I’m a givin’ man with a lotta love in ‘im.” He says playfully with a wink that you can’t help but smile a little at.

You walk around him and find the blade easily. The weight of it is heavier than you remember. Maybe because now you realise how close you came to leaving because of it. The scent of sweat and something like burning plastic comes close and you look to the side and see Merle staring back. You hold it out for him to take but he shakes his head.

“Shit’ll keep ya safe an’ give ya life instead’a takin it away. Hol’ on ta it. And don’ do this ‘gain.”

“I won’t.” You promise. And this time you mean it.

The sentiment is something you didn’t expect to come from somebody like him. But you take the advice with a smile, sheath the blade and pocket it. Instantly Merle wraps an arm around your shoulders that feels like a tree trunk and directs you back to the camp while whistling. Strangely enough it feels good to be held by him. A part of you wants it to stay that way even when you do get back.

“Merle?” You say while looking up at him with a smile he focuses on. “Thank you.”

He shrugs and let’s out a long sigh.

“Shit das wha’ friends is for fancy! Buh now it’s time ta show ya how ta skin a squirrel so ya can make ol’ Merle ‘ere some food when he too pissed ta cook.”

Squirrel?

“Why the hell can’t you make it? You have hands.” A laugh vibrates through his thick chest and his tone switches back to the flirty one he gave you after the kiss. His eyes brush over your tense expression and he grins.

“Cause tha’s wha’ lady friends is for sugar, well, tha’ and kissin’ ol’ Merle’s cheek.”

#the walking dead #twd #you #merle dixon #merledixon #merle dixon x you #merle dixon x reader #twdyou #twdfiction #twdreader #twdimagines #twddixon #daryldixon #dixonbrothers

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penny-anna · 5 years ago

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@abluescarfonwaston as I said I got like 4 stars for this meme and no specific requests, so I’m just going to talk at length about the fic I have the most to say about, which is sandstorms and hazy dawns

hooray!!

She comes to him in the night, breath hot against his ear, and says, “can we keep them?”

This opening scene takes place between the 2nd and 3rd scenes of the story... this is probably needlessly confusing as the rest of the story is in chronological order but, this is where I wanted to start & I can do what I want.

“No,” he says.

He feels her weight shift as she lies down beside him. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

She noses at his neck, at the side of his head, nuzzling him. He feels the beginnings of a purr down in her chest, feels it in her and inside himself. “I like them.”

He touches her head, burying his fingers in her coarse fur the way he hasn’t for years. It’s been a long time, since they were as close as this. When they are together she sleeps an arm’s length from him. For days at a time they’re apart. He knows her only as a flash of white on the edge of his vision, a scent in the air. She wanders for miles, for weeks, following her own path, and he sees her not at all.

so let’s talk about the break up!!

Geralt & Dag used to have a more ‘normal’ person + separated daemon relationship (like most witchers), in which they would only split up for long periods out of practical necessity. they broke up for several years following events in blaviken. here is my extremely rough rendering of how that went

geralt: why you let this happen. you’re supposed to be my conscience :(

dag: umm how is this my fault? you asshole?

geralt: fuck off

dag: fine i will!! *fucks off*

geralt: wait no i didnt mean it :(

i have no intention of ever writing this scene as i don’t think i could do it justice. in my head he also throws a rock at her tho. bcos he’s an angry boy & an asshole.

however!! the strain in their relationship would not have started there. when i was writing this fic i was imagining that the fact of being separated would in itself put a strain on any person/daemon relationship, which i felt was implied by the HDM books. & then since writing it I read The Secret Commonwealth which more or less confirms that separating does just cause people’s relationships with their daemons to break down sometimes.

I think I said this in another post but, I imagine that the newly acquired ability to have separate experiences would make them more and more able to seriously disagree on things. and physically separating for long periods (even if only for practical reasons) would force them to get better at functioning alone which could in turn make them more and more emotionally distant from each other.

He scratches at the join of her neck and jaw, and that purr grows, long and deep and contented. She lays her head down beside his, and he holds her. He’s aware of her tail flicking, restless. She’ll be awake a while yet and so will she. They always sleep and wake at the same times, no matter how many miles separate them.

Geralt loves her, his lion, his dæmon. He loves her with every fibre of his being. He loves her strength, her grace. He loves that she can take any shape she pleases, be a bird or a fish or a snake when the moment calls for it. He loves the distance she can walk from him. He would not have her any other way. He cannot imagine her any other way.

i was always going to have witchers w separating daemons for this fic. however i got talked into the idea of witchers w mutable daemons by someone in a witcher discord I’m in... whoever you are I have forgotten your tumblr so can’t credit you for your idea properly sorry!!

i was originally reluctant bcos it seemed to me that mutable daemons implied innocence & youthfulness, which is kind of at odds with how witchers seem to be perceived. however following the above discord conversation i realised it can also imply 1) that witchers don’t really have ‘fixed’ personalities, which ties in with their supposedly not having feelings; 2) ‘innocence’ but in a negative way, in the sense of immaturity & not having a properly developed mind and sense of morality.

obviously none of the above is actually true and witcher daemons are just shapeshifting adult daemons but, that is how people perceive it.

additionally, given how superpowered witchers are it seemed to fit that they would have found a way around all the weaknesses that having a daemon bring.

He knows that she loves him too. He understand why sometimes she despises him. He has cursed her, with his words and his thoughts, and she hates him for it. She has left him alone, and he hates her for it.

They say witchers feel nothing and they are not wrong. It doesn’t pain him when they are apart. He hasn’t felt that pain since he was a child. He barely remembers what it feels like.

She stops purring. Her breath puffs against his skin. “Stop thinking so hard,” she says. “Go to sleep.” Her tail has stopped twitching. “Go to sleep.”

“I think you and I might have got off on the wrong foot – as they say.”

this scene is supposed to take place offscreen shortly following the gutpunch haha

“White hair – no visible dæmon – two very – very scary looking swords – I know who you are.”

I don’t like when daemon fics recap entire scenes w the addition of daemons but I wanted to get this 1 change in so. here it is in a brief flashback. i elected to take out ‘big old loner’ bcos 1) listing 3 things is neater 2) I felt that not having a visible daemon would be a more notable characteristic for jaskier to point out.

not having a visible daemon is not necessarily a ‘tell’ that someone is a witcher or part of another demographic that can separate as people’s daemons are just out of sight sometimes.

It had surprised him, the ease with which that word visible had tripped off the bard’s tongue; that unhesitating acknowledgement that just because he couldn’t see something did not mean it didn’t exist.

He says, “hm.”

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?”

“No,” he says.”

“You can call me Jaskier,” says the bard. With a jerk of his shoulder he indicates the songbird-dæmon perched atop his lute. “This is Tansy.” The dæmon peeps a greeting. Receiving no response the bard goes on, “she’s a nightingale which I think is very sexy of her. You know,” he adds. “Because I’m a singer. And she’s a – a songbird.”

i realised while i was writing this that jaskier never actually introduces himself on screen. which seems like an oversight on the part of the writers tbh. means we can do what we want tho.

as i said in the a/n on the fic itself, I got the idea of giving Jaskier a nightingale daemon from two halves of a whole. usually I try and avoid just straight up copying other people’s form ideas but i just. fell in love with nightingale.

other forms I’ve seen for jaskier seem to tend VERY strongly towards birds which I find interesting! i’ve think I’ve seen maybe 1 daemon fic where he doesn’t have a bird daemon.

moving on to the name! this is tansy:

I do intend to get into this in potential future installments of the series, but Tansy is not her birth name (none of the main daemons in this AU use their birth names, completely independently of each other). she started going by Tansy relatively young and when he later changed his to match.

I think Jaskier settled relatively young - maybe 2 years before the time this fic is set - and being the overdramatic little punk he is hasn’t quite got over the ‘have i mentioned how cool my daemon’s settled form is today’ phase yet.

& finally before moving on, p much the first thing we learn about Jaskier & Tansy is that he is very happy and at ease with her and the form that she takes. this is important.

He grunts an acknowledgement – if only to get the bard to stop explaining.

“You’re not the best conversationalist, are you?”

A sudden tension, inside his chest. She’s close. He looks up and there she is, slipping into view on the clifftop.

“It’s just usually when you have a conversation you take it in turns to speak,” says the bard. “Rather than one person doing all the – oh.”

Dag makes her way down the ragged cliff, leaping from perch to perch in languid motions till her white paws touch the earth and she’s beside him. Stooping Geralt runs his hand over her head in greeting. Her eyes narrow.

this is another thing I have mentioned Elsewhere but i did fall in love w geralt’s daemon’s name in two halves of a whole (linked above) and went looking for something which had a similar feel to it. sorry.

i’m aware that Dag is technically a man’s name but given the kind of, inherent gender-bending nature of opposite sex daemons it seemed appropriate.

i confess i was also thinking of the dag in fury road.

seen a lot more variety in daemon forms for Geralt than jaskier! most common choices seem to be 1) wolf and 2) roach is his daemon. I’m really not into ‘existing animal companion as daemon’ bcos I’m firmly in the camp of ‘daemons as a manifestation of a person’s inner voice’ rather than ‘daemons as Companions’ so I can’t get behind daemon!roach (I actually find it actively offputting gfdlkjfskdh)

wolf is a p good fit imo but I find it a bit on the nose and I wanted to do something different. so. he is a giant kitty cat. & as someone (I forget who sorry) correctly identified she is leucistic rather than albino.

white mountain lions do exist but best as i can tell there’s like 1 photo on the entire internet. bummer.

He’s aware of the restlessly silent presence of the bard behind them shifting his weight, his dæmon fluttering about his head, aware perhaps that he’s intruding on something intimate.

Geralt straightens, and the bard takes that as his cue to begin again. He clears his throat and says, “what can I call her?”

It’s been a long time, since anyone has asked for her name so brazenly; in fact he isn’t sure anyone ever has. Geralt shoots the bard a look.

“Well, you must call her something,” he says, unintimidated.

“I do,” says Geralt. “You don’t.”

The nightingale-dæmon, now resting upon her bard’s shoulder, is eying Dag curiously, but she’s cautious enough not to approach.

one thing I’ve noticed when re-reading HDM is that characters very rarely refer to other people’s daemons by names, even when they know them. generally i’ve loosely kept to this in my own daemon AUs bcos 1) i find that when fics us each daemon’s name every time i get a bit lost as to whose daemon is whose and 2) I like the idea that using someone else’s daemon name is a very hm. intimate thing. hence geralt is reluctant to call tansy by her name, even though he knows it.

“Right,” says the bard. “Well, then.”

Come morning, Dag is gone, but not gone far. Out of sight, but not so far away he can’t feel her. She’ll come back when it pleases her.

He readies Roach for the path ahead, half-listening to the lilt of conversation that carries from the bushes; Jaskier’s voice, and the pretty voice of his dæmon.

The bard stumbles out into view, tousled and bleary from a night on the ground. “G’morning.” He ambles over to join Geralt.

i genuinely wanted to specify here that jaskier was having a piss in the bushes but i couldn’t find a way to get it in that didn’t seem kind of tasteless. that is what is happening here tho.

“What will it take to get rid of you?” says Geralt.

“My, someone woke up on the wrong side of the – ground,” says Jaskier. “More than yesterday. Where are we off to next?” He puts his hand on Roach’s saddle. Geralt swats it away.

“I’m going north,” he says. “You go wherever you want.”

“Maybe I want to go with you,” says Jaskier. In a flutter of wings his dæmon comes to rest on the pommel of Roach’s saddle, and he can’t shoo her away. He wouldn’t dare put his hands near her.

They say of witchers that they have no souls. They say their dæmons are something else, something monstrous. They say they have no respect for the great taboo. When they see him mothers’ dæmons snatch their children away.

“You don’t,” says Geralt.

“You sound awfully sure,” says Jaskier.

You don’t know what you’re asking for, Geralt wants to say. He doesn’t know how to say it in a way the bard would understand. He glowers at the nightingale-dæmon until she takes the hint and flies back to Jaskier’s shoulder.

He feels Dag before he hears her, the padding of her feet on the ground as she emerges from the bushes, the soft sound of her breathing.

Jaskier nudges him. “You don’t fool me,” he says. “You’re a big pussycat really. Don’t think I didn’t hear her purring all last night.”

did u know that mountain lions are the largest cat than can purr! here is a video of one purring. it’s very cute but also a little scary.

“You’re imagining things,” says Geralt.

“I absolutely am not,” says Jaskier. “She was practically shaking the ground.”

At that Dag actually laughs, a short and bubbling laugh of real amusement. Geralt shoots her a look. Jaskier is looking at her too, looking at her curiously, startled by this, the first human sound he’s heard her make.

Looking away from them Dag stretches out on the ground, lounging as if she has nowhere to be. Jaskier tears his eyes away from her and says, “is she always a lion? It’s just –” His dæmon pecks him hard on the neck. “Ow – it’s just I heard witchers’ dæmons don’t settle.”

He fastens the straps on Roach’s saddle bag, and his hands still. “They aren’t unsettled,” he says. “They’re mutable.”

“I don’t follow,” says Jaskier.

“They settle,” he says. “But they keep the ability to change, after settling.”

“Ah, I see,” says Jaskier, nodding. “But is she –” His dæmon fastens her beak around his ear lobe and tugs. “Ow – ow – alright – there’s no need to be like that,” he mutters to her.

“I’m leaving,” Geralt says. “As I said. Go where you please.”

The bard and his dæmon follow him north.

Chimney smoke rises down in the valley. He doesn’t know the name of the town.

Dag is waiting for him, draped in the branches of a tree. She’s been scouting ahead, or perhaps she’s restless, or perhaps both.

She yawns, showing off her teeth. “Did you lose them?”

“You know I didn’t,” says Geralt. He can hear Jaskier’s voice behind them in the woods, and so can she.

Her tail swishes. “Why not?” she says, and he knows at once what she means.

bouncing off what I was saying above re ‘manifestation of a person’s inner voice’. I like taking opportunities to show that a person & their daemon are 2 halves of the same mind.

“You know why,” he says.

“Tell me.”

And she says it in that particular tone, a tone with steel in it, and he has to answer. “He’s soft,” he says. “He’s young. What he’s asking for will break him. He doesn’t understand.”

“Hm,” she says.

“It’s best he realises sooner,” he says.

“You don’t know how soft he is,” she says. “You don’t know him at all.”

“You’ve seen her,” he says. “That’s what he is.”

Tansy is delicate – pretty – fragile. She weighs almost nothing. She comes close by him as few dæmons will and every time he tenses for fear that he might touch her, without meaning to – hurt her – break her.

u know that post about the person whose boyfriend was afraid of holding babies in case he didn’t know his own strength and accidentally hurt them? thats geralt.

Dag’s tail is moving in the air, no longer swishing, flicking in sharp, angry jerks. “We both know that’s not how it works.”

He knows what she’s thinking. It hangs between them, unspoken. Another little bird dæmon they had once known, a pretty, charming robin-dæmon who had melted away like smoke before his eyes.

I’ve only seen 1 daemon fic featuring renfri (and I don’t think it was strictly a conventional daemon au) and it gave her a shrike daemon, which i do think is fitting. however as w wolf for geralt I find it a bit on the nose.

additionally, giving renfri a daemon has the potential to kind of, shift things wrt the ambiguity of her character, so you have a choice to make wrt whether you want to shift it more towards ‘she’s outwardly scary’ or ‘she’s outwardly innocent’ and I went for ‘outwardly innocent’, in part so I could do this specific parallel but also bcos I just preferred that vibe.

i went for european robin bcos it’s a very nice match for renfri’s aesthetic, and 1) I’m a slut for aesthetics and 2) helps to make sure readers will know who this is about.

He might say don’t. Don’t make me think of it. But he doesn’t. This thing has been unspoken between them for so many years. He doesn’t know what will happen if he breaks the silence.

They’ve been on the road for five – almost six weeks. He’s growing used to the chatter and the birdsong. Jaskier hasn’t complained – hasn’t complained much – hasn’t complained as much as he’d expected, not even when his feet bled in his fancy shoes. He’s generous enough to share the coin he gets from playing. Geralt’s had worse travelling companions.

Jaskier blunders out of the trees. “There you are,” he says. “Trying to shake us?”

“Yes,” says Geralt.

Jaskier snorts, as if that’s a joke. He looks out over the valley, the distant strings of smoke hazy in the twilight. “Do you think they have an inn?”

“I don’t care,” says Geralt.

“I want to sleep in a real bed,” says Jaskier. “And I want a bath.”

“I’m not stopping you,” says Geralt.

“It’s going to be freezing tonight,” says Jaskier.

“I’m used to it,” says Geralt.

Jaskier nudges him. “C’mon,” he says. “You could use a bath yourself. I don’t like to say so, but you are a very – unusual smelling person.”

“You’ve said so several times,” says Geralt.

“Have I?” says Jaskier innocently.

“Yes,” says his dæmon.

“So I have,” he says.

“Go and find an inn if you want,” says Geralt. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” says Jaskier.

“I’m being ridiculous?” says Geralt.

“Yes,” says Jaskier. “Alright, how about this. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I can buy my own drinks,” says Geralt.

“But I’m offering,” says Jaskier. “A kind and magnanimous offer, out of the goodness of my heart. And also I think it’s going to rain and I want to get in doors, so stop being ridiculous.”

“Hm,�� says Geralt.

They go to the inn. It’s begun to rain by the time they reach the town. Tansy hides herself away within Jaskier’s cloak. Dag doesn’t follow them down the valley, preferring to find a dry spot in the woods, preferring to avoid prying eyes.

The inn is crowded with people sheltering from the rain; two more strangers with hidden dæmons don’t get a second look. The rafters are lined with bird-dæmons, safely away from the crowd. Sitting alone in his corner he watches their movements, the beating of their wings. There was a time Dag might have changed her shape and joined them. A space like this is never comfortable for a large dæmon.

reading back over this story I think it’s hm easy to think of Dag as the Emotionally Mature one of them but she’s the one whose making a choice to like... hide from Regular People and has been doing it habitually for a long time, either by changing her form or just leaving him alone.

Geralt & his daemon do this for a number of reasons I think, in part for practical reasons, but also because he doesn’t want people go be able to get a fix on what kind of person that he is, and on some level wants people to see him and be immediately repulsed by his not having a daemon... this is a self-destructive behaviour that Dag is an active participant in. stop it Dag you’re supposed to be the smart one.

There’s a bard playing, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. He doesn’t sing as nicely as Jaskier. He’s made a poor choice of song, too, a quiet ballad, one of many about the beauty of the touch.

“Her hand upon my dæmon, the first in my life – it was like roses in the summer and I knew then she’d be my wife –”

1) i hate writing rhyming poetry and i am very bad at it. got away with it this time i hope bcos this is supposed to be kind of trite.

2) this is is what we call Planting. lol.

Jaskier pushes his way through the press back to their table. “As promised,” he says, sliding Geralt a mug of ale. Geralt grunts a thank you.

Jaskier sits, and regards him. Tansy flutters down to perch on the rim of his mug, dipping in her beak. Absently Jaskier strokes her downy back and Geralt tracks the tiny, intimate motion with his eyes. “Is this it, then?” says Jaskier.

one thing I was trying to convey throughout this fic is that spending time with Jaskier & Tansy is the first time Geralt has been around someone who has a Normal relationship with their daemon (as opposed to the ‘it’s complicated’ that geralt & dag have) for a long time and he’s very aware of the contrast.

“Is this what?” says Geralt.

“Is this how it goes?” says Jaskier. “It’s just that I can’t help but notice there hasn’t been a lot of witchering.”

“That’s not a word,” says Geralt, and takes a draft of ale.

“What?” says Jaskier. “Witchering?” Geralt grunts. “Maybe I’ll put it in a song and get people saying it.”

“Don’t you dare,” says Geralt, and Jaskier laughs a little.

“Really, though,” he says. “Is this it?”

“How many monsters do you think there are in the world?” says Geralt.

“How should I know?” says Jaskier. Still perched on his mug Tansy whistles along with the ballad. A moment later Jaskier’s fingers begin to tap along. “What d’you do when you can’t get any work?”

“I make do,” says Geralt.

“Hmm,” says Jaskier. Sensing he isn’t going to get any meaningful answers – or perhaps just bored – his gaze wanders to the bard. For a few moments he listens quietly. “Have you ever done it?”

“What?” says Geralt.

“You know.” Jaskier ducks his head in the direction of the bard.

“Been a bard?” says Geralt.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” says Jaskier, mock-stern.

“No,” says Geralt. “Not like that.”

He’s had another’s hands on his dæmon, more than once. He and Dag have sworn to themselves: never again.

“Hm,” says Jaskier. “No. Me neither.” Again he strokes Tansy, perhaps imagining it.

Tansy is still whistling along with the bard, giving the final notes of the ballad a few extra flourishes, and Geralt catches himself thinking that she and Jaskier would sing it better.

“I’ll be having the bath first – if you don’t mind,” says Jaskier.

“Hm,” says Geralt.

“Though don’t think I’m going to let you get away without bathing,” says Jaskier. “I know what you’re like, and, and your aroma is really starting to bother me.”

“Hm!” pipes up Tansy in agreement.

“Find someone else to annoy, then,” says Geralt. He sits on the edge of the bed, still in his armour. Jaskier is meandering about the washstand, unfastening his doublet, restless as ever.

He tosses his doublet onto the bed, and looks Geralt up and down. “You’re not planning on sleeping in that, are you?”

“Maybe,” says Geralt.

“What, do you think the inn’s going to get attacked in the night by – werewolves, or something?” says Jaskier.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” says Geralt.

“I can never tell when you’re joking,” says Jaskier, and unlacing his undershirt as he goes he wanders behind the screen.

“I don’t joke,” says Geralt.

“See?” Jaskier’s undershirt drapes over the top of the screen. Tansy, perched beside it, tugs at it with her beak, neatening it up. “There you go again.”

one of the biggest (& most underrated imo) challenges when writing a daemon au is characterising daemons... they’ve got to be like, recognisably the same person as the character, but at the same time ideally their own entity with their own personality. i found Dag came quite naturally, probably bcos Geralt is a character who definitely hides a lot of aspects of his personality, but Tansy was harder.

i imagined Tansy being very quiet with people who aren’t Jaskier & also very much the ‘put your clothes away don’t leave them all over the floor’ type of daemon.

Alone – or what passes for alone – Geralt begins to divest himself of his armour.

Jaskier’s trousers appear atop the screen. A moment later there’s a gentle splashing of water. A sigh.

geralt is definitely not thinking about the fact that jaskier is undressing. nope. he is not thinking about the fact that jaskier is naked in the same room as him. this is of no interest to him at all. He Does Not Care.

“This soap smells like pig fat,” he remarks.

“That’s because it’s made of pig fat,” says Geralt.

“Well. Yes,” says Jaskier.

Tansy is looking at him curiously from atop the screen. Caught staring, she opens her wings and drops out of sight to join Jaskier.

“Does Dag not come indoors?” says Jaskier.

“Now and then,” Geralt answers, before he has fully processed what Jaskier said. His hands still on his armour. “When did she tell you her name?”

this is something I do intend to cover in a future fic but I also don’t intend for it to be especially dramatic

“A few weeks ago,” says Jaskier. “I didn’t think much of it. Why? Do you mind?”

“Yes,” says Geralt.

Behind the screen water splashes. “Why on earth would you mind?” says Jaskier. Geralt doesn’t answer. “Well – I suppose that’s another one for the list of things I’ll never understand about you – like your sense of humour, and why you spend hours talking to your horse when you’ve a perfectly good dæmon.”

an extra dimension of geralt talking to his horse in this au is that he is used to having his daemon there.

Rising, Geralt begins setting his armour on the chair. “She isn’t always there,” he says.

“Well, yes, but it’s not as if she goes very far,” says Jaskier.

“Sometimes she does,” says Geralt.

In a sudden fluttering of wings, Tansy reappears atop the screen.

“How far does she go?” says Jaskier.

“As far as she pleases,” says Geralt.

A gentle sloshing of water. Tansy turns on her perch, peering down at her bard, something wordless passing between them. “Does it,” says Jaskier. “I mean, do you – I don’t know how to ask.”

“Spit it out,” says Geralt.

“Can you still feel her?”

“Yes.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

so this scene is (obvs) a kind of a call back to That One Bath Scene in canon. this is the first time they’ve been hm ‘domestic’ together and it’s a little awkward, especially for geralt, who is not used to it. all of which is in contrast with how comfortable they are around each other later.

& this is the most frank (probably) conversation they have over the course of the entire fic and it happens when they are physically screened from each other. and also jaskier is literally naked while geralt is opening up to him. this is all very notable for obvious reasons I hope.

“I see,” says Jaskier, though Geralt doubts he does. It’s difficult for humans to get their heads around the way he and Dag experience the world. Most aren’t interested in trying.

geralt here actively ignoring the fact that jaskier is making an effort to understand

He hears the water moving, and the padding of Jaskier’s bare feet on the floorboards. His clothes are whisked back down from the screen and half a minute later he emerges, his hair towel-damp. “All yours,” he says.

Geralt sits in the still-warm water, and soaks, and listens as Jaskier putters about on the other side of the screen, getting ready to sleep, listens to the steady back and forth of his conversation with Tansy. He hums, and she whistles along.

uh so if you’re an introvert I imagine you’ve probably had the experience of being Alone and Unobserved for the first time in an uncomfortably long time... i have this experience every day when i leave work fjgksfkgjfg

tansy & jaskier talk p much non-stop when they’re (semi)alone

When at last, the water cold, he ventures out from behind the screen, Jaskier is on the bed, scribbling something down in his little book.

“You can have the bed,” says Geralt. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Jaskier shifts over towards the wall. “We’ll both fit. I don’t mind if you don’t.” He glances up from his writing. “Though just to warn you, I’m reliably informed that I kick.”

“He does,” says Tansy from the headboard.

The room smells like candle smoke, and pig fat. The scent of the outdoors still clings to them to their clothes, to Jaskier’s hair. He sleeps facing the wall, the warmth of his body pressed to Geralt’s side. Tansy sleeps with her head tucked beneath her wing. Geralt lies awake, listening to Jaskier’s breathing.

geralt is not affected by this situation at all. he is not even a little bit uncomfortably attracted. nope. nuh-uh.

they don’t ever share a bed in the show but i gather it’s a normal thing to do in the books so for the purposes of this fic, this is a thing that it later becomes normal for them to do.

He mumbles now and then in his sleep. And true to his word, he does kick.

Morning comes grey, but dry. They eat breakfast in the tavern. Jaskier chatters, about the weather, the food, the song he was writing in the evening. Geralt tunes him out, and lets his eyes roam over the other patrons. His gaze falls on a pair of old men smoking long pipes. They’re looking at him, at the absence beside him, the empty space he occupies. Caught staring they look away.

Jaskier pokes his arm. “Are you listening to me?” he says.

“Hm?” says Geralt.

“I said you’re even more sullen than usual this morning,” says Jaskier. “What’s got into you? Trouble sleeping?”

Geralt turns his attention to his porridge. “You kick.”

“I’m aware,” says Jaskier. “I did warn you. Well, I dare say –”

A woman is approaching their table, purposefully, stoically. Geralt recognises her attitude. Jaskier is savvy enough to guess.

“You’re the witcher?” she says, as if it’s a question. Her dæmon, a large, horned beetle, clings silently to her sleeve.

always hard w daemon AUs to strike a balance between making it clear to the audience that everyone in this world has a daemon & including superfluous information about daemons who aren’t relevant to the story. originally didn’t include this woman’s but then decided I didn’t have enough background daemons.

this is something i actually paid a lot of attention to while reading the secret commonwealth bcos i wanted to see how pullman handles it.

additionally I think insect daemons are under-represented in daemon au fic so I have been trying to get in as many as I can.

“Well, he’s a witcher,” says Jaskier. Geralt nudges him to be quiet.

She says, “my sister has a job for you.”

The wind is picking up. The day is getting thin. Ahead, on the hilltop, the dark outline of a hay barn, stark and flat against the grey sky.

He dismounts, and ties Roach to a tree.

“Is Dag not joining us?” says Jaskier.

“She comes and goes as she pleases,” says Geralt.

“What, did you two have an argument or something?” says Jaskier. Geralt grunts. “Did you? About what?”

“You,” says Geralt truthfully, and Jaskier laughs as if he’s made a joke.

Dag is in the air somewhere above them. Irritated with him as she may be, she hasn’t gone far, this time. She’s watching the valley, her keen hawk’s eyes searching for any untoward movement.

He starts to climb the hill. Jaskier makes to follow. Turning Geralt holds up a hand, halting him in his tracks. “Stay with Roach.”

Jaskier adjusts the strap of his lute. “I can handle it.”

“This won’t be pleasant,” says Geralt.

“Honestly,” says Jaskier. “How do you expect me to write about all this if you never let me see anything?”

“I don’t,” says Geralt.

“Anyone would think you didn’t want me to immortalise your deeds in song,” says Jaskier.

“I don’t,” says Geralt.

“It’s stifling to my creativity, not to mention rude,” says Jaskier. “And wholly unjustified. I have a strong stomach.”

Wavering, Geralt glances at Tansy, on Jaskier’s shoulder. She hms in agreement. He drops his hand. “If you’re sure.”

In the doorway of the hay barn Jaskier turns his face away and retches. “Oh gods,” he moans. “Oh heavens. Fuck me –”

“Go and wait with Roach if you want,” says Geralt.

One hand braced against the door frame, the other over his mouth, Jaskier looks at him. He takes his head from his mouth. He shakes his head. Tansy flutters in the doorway, from the shadow to the light, and resolves. She flies into the barn, up, up to the rafters, and there looks down upon the bodies.

This is where they have brought their dead, this most remote outpost of their village, with the spiders and the rats and the dust. They brought the bodies here, a dozen or more of them, and piled them up, meaning to burn them, meaning to burn this lonely place to the ground.

They’re unmarked. The air is thick with the smell of death. The most recent lies near the door, her eyes open, staring up at the roof. She’s young. Her hair is fair. She’s dressed in an apron, as if she’d just stepped out of her kitchen – to the water pump, perhaps – when she was attacked.

One death such as this, two, they’d bury. This many, in as many days, they know what haunts them, and they fear it like nothing else.

“What killed them?” says Tansy from the rafters.

“Hm,” says Geralt. He crouches to look at the dead girl, to be sure there are no marks on her, as the village healer had said. Taking off his gloves, he touches her face, tilting her head towards the light.

why does geralt take off his gloves. bcos later i had a scene where he’s washing his hands and then it was pointed out to me that he normally wears clothes and so wouldn’t need to. shush.

It isn’t his place to interfere with how these people treat their dead; but this isn’t right. There’s nothing to fear here. They are only dead. The danger, the thing that killed them, has passed. There’s nothing to be gained in consigning their dead to this bleak, anonymous fate.

A scuffling, above. Tansy moving on the rafter.

“Geralt?” says Jaskier. “What killed them?”

“Shh.”

Geralt glances up, at Tansy. She’s perched quivering on the rafter. “What is it?” he says.

“Something moved.”

tansy being a very hm fastidious sort of person translates to being quite perceptive

“I didn’t see anything,” says Jaskier.

“You weren’t looking,” says Tansy.

Geralt rises. He reaches for his sword.

The barn reeks of death. In the semi-darkness he had taken it for one of the bodies piled around it. It’s rising now to its feet, its movements stilted, unnatural. You might take it for a lumbering thing, a slow thing you could outrun. You’d be wrong.

Tansy takes flight, flashing in and out of the light from the doorway, and as she does so it begins to move, crawling forward over the piled bodies with the speed of a darting insect, snatching, grasping at the air above it. Jaskier cries out. “Run!” Geralt barks, raising his sword.

this whole scene was hard for a number of reasons... firstly i don’t know a lot about witcher monsters and spent a while trying to find one that fit the kind of scene I wanted before saying ‘fuck it’ and inventing my own

and secondly I don’t know about anyone else but uhh whenever i want a story to include an action scene in my head it’s just like ‘and then a fight happens!!’

+ w this one as well as planning out the fight i had the extra issue of, how it manages to get hold of Tansy which I. hope i explained satisfactorily.

The sight of silver gives the dæmophage pause. It halts, its eyes wide and staring, its shoulders heaving. It’s a fluid creature and it no longer needs its human disguise. Its limbs stretch, its spine bends at an unnatural angle, its slit nostrils flaring. It has no mouth. It has no need of one. Frost spreads from its fingers, coating its hands and arms, the bodies beneath it, the packed dirt floor.

He’s aware of laboured breathing behind him. He’s aware, suddenly, that Jaskier has not run. He risks a glance over his shoulder and sees him pressed to the far side of the door frame, gripping the wood with one white-knuckled hand. His other hand is held, clenched, to his chest. The colour has drained from his face.

“Run,” Geralt says. “Run!” Still Jaskier doesn’t move, and stepping back, not taking his eyes off the dæmophage, Geralt reaches blindly behind himself, finds Jaskier and shoves him backwards.

He resists, and in that resistance Geralt feels what has happened, feels it before Jaskier lets out a pained sound, before he says, choked, “Tansy.” For it’s not the resistance of one who doesn’t want to go; it’s the resistance of one tethered, of a tied-up dog trying to run from a fire.

The dæmophage is crawling forward again, one-handed. It’s holding something in its other hand, in a hand thick with ice. He can’t see what it is. He knows what it is. “Geralt –” Jaskier wheezes, and whatever he means to say next he can’t find the breath.

There are many vile ways to die, in the world. Few worse than your dæmon becoming meal to a creature like this, the life crushed from it, your soul slowly, torturously drained away.

He takes off the dæmophage’s arm first, the arm that holds Tansy, and its whole body jerks spraying dark blood across the walls, across the bodies. As its severed arm hits the ground its fingers fall open and he sees her, a fistful of icy brown feathers, but there’s no time to dwell on her, no time to dwell on if he was fast enough, if there is anything left to save. The dæmophage lashes out at him with its other hand, with its sharpening claws; he dodges, swings, and its arm falls to the ground, cut at the elbow.

It takes two strikes to cleave off its head. Its body remains half-upright, swaying, blood bubbling from its neck. He stands over it, sword raised, breathing hard. They’re fluid creatures. Half-shadow. You can never be sure.

It falls. It is still. He lowers his sword.

Behind him Jaskier falls heavily to the ground. Geralt turns to find him on his knees, shuddering all over, gasping, but still conscious, his eyes alert. He slumps forward, catching himself on his hands, and empties his stomach onto the dirt.

“Tansy,” he croaks. “Oh gods, Tansy –” He sees her, still in the dead creature’s hand, melted frost dripping from her feathers. He tries to rise. His legs won’t hold him.

She had been in its grip less than a minute. It must have felt like an age. Geralt is surprised he didn’t faint. Perhaps he’s made of sterner stuff than he looks.

so I don’t imagine this being as much a matter of Inner Strength as much as (as established early) Jaskier & Tansy having a very close and intimate bond, which in turn is a reflection of Jaskier being at ease with himself and the kind of person he is.

in short this isn’t a matter of jaskier being like, exceptionally brave so much as being like ‘hey! don’t you dare! fuck you!’

Stepping closer Geralt takes his arm and heaves. “I told you to wait with Roach,” he says. But the look Jaskier gives him, of mute, numb disbelief at his coldness, silences any further reproach.

He hauls Jaskier to his feet, but Jaskier tugs his arm from his grip. He wipes his face on his sleeve and staggers forward, falling to his knees once again beside her, reaching for her with shaking hands.

When he picks her up he lets out a gasp of relief – or terror – it’s hard to say which. She doesn’t respond to his touch. She lies limp in his hands.

Jaskier looks up at him, and voice unsteady he says, “she’s cold.”

He sets the barn alight. By the time he’s done it’s growing dark, and the wind has died away. He leaves it to burn on its hilltop, to be sure the creature is dead. He’ll tell the villagers to come back when it’s burned to the ground, to take the bones of their dead and bury them properly. They’ll do it, if not for the right reasons.

The barn is a red-orange blaze in the distance. Down in the valley there’s a chill in the air. He can see Jaskier’s breath, though it’s not cold enough for that. He hasn’t stopped shaking. Geralt builds a fire, so he can warm himself, and sets about fastening the dæmophage’s head to Roach’s saddle.

“Geralt, she’s still cold,” says Jaskier. He’s kneeling too close to the fire, Tansy clutched to his chest, hidden in his cupped hands. He’s stripped off his filthy doublet, dark with the creature’s blood. “Geralt. Geralt. She won’t wake up.”

i don’t know if it actually makes sense for jaskier to have got blood on him but listen i will take any excuse to have him take his doublet off bcos i’m just into it.

“She’ll wake up,” says Geralt.

“Are you sure?” says Jaskier.

“Hm,” says Geralt. He isn’t sure. You can never be sure. But if it had drained enough of the life from her that she was beyond waking, Jaskier’s mind would have broken. She’d be fading away. She was in shock. That was all. She’d wake.

If he’d been fast enough to kill it, but not fast enough to save her – he’d seen it before. He’d seen men and women, their minds broken into icy fragments, spending their last days terrified, in pain, alone. Unable to understand what had happened to them. Sometimes it was more merciful to let the dæmophage finish its meal, and kill them outright.

Not this time. He’d been fast enough.

“She – she won’t wake up, Geralt, she –” Jaskier breaks off in a ragged gasp. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Give her some time,” says Geralt. He fetches a blanket, and tosses it to Jaskier.

Jaskier doesn’t take it. “I can’t wake her up,” he says. “Geralt, what do I do?”

“Stop panicking,” says Geralt.

It’s no good. Jaskier understands what he’s saying, but he can’t keep his thoughts straight long enough to act on it. His mind is clouded. Where his connection to Tansy should be there’s nothing but confusion.

this was a fun opportunity to get a little bit into how the connection between a person and their daemon works :3

“I don’t know what to do,” he says. “I can’t think – Geralt, I can’t –”

His name falls again and again from Jaskier’s lips and it carries a silent plea. Help me. Do something.

He doesn’t know what to do. Or rather he knows what he ought to do, to offer comfort and warmth until this passes, but he doesn’t know how.

If he had seen it sooner. If he hadn’t let Jaskier talk him into taking him into danger. If he’d been quicker, smarter, harsher.

Tansy will get better. Jaskier will walk away from this.

double meaning in ‘walk away from this’ as in ‘survive this’ but also ‘will walk away FROM GERALT because of this’

Tension, behind him. He feels her long before he sees her, long before she ghosts into the firelight on owl-wings. She lands and with a soft rushing of air she’s herself again. Jaskier falls silent, startled at seeing her change, though he knew she cold.

“Jaskier,” she says. “Do you trust me?”

Half-watching, Geralt sees him nod.

“Put her down,” she says.

Jaskier hesitates. “But –”

“I know what I’m doing,” says Dag. “Put her down. Let me see.” Again he refuses, a wordless stammer of protest. “Jaskier. You’re panicking. Breathe deep. Put her down.”

Jaskier lays Tansy down. His hands are still shaking, but his breathing has slowed. That’s something. “What’s happening to her?” he says. “It hurts –”

He’d known it must. But Jaskier hadn’t said so, to him.

Dag noses at Tansy’s tiny, limp body. She licks her, once. “She’s just cold,” she says. “She’s just fainted. She’ll be fine.”

The back of one hand pressed to his mouth, Jaskier sobs.

“Shh,” says Dag. “Jaskier. Be calm.” Then she ducks her head forward, and touches him.

She touches her head to his face, nuzzling him, and at that contact a tremor goes through Geralt like a static shock. It’s only for a moment. Jaskier jerks away from her, as one would if a dæmon came too close by mistake.

this scene was inspired a bit by the part in The Subtle Knife where Pantalaimon physically comforts Will bcos he doesn’t have a daemon to comfort him. Obviously Jaskier does have a daemon, but he’s experiencing her being unconscious while he’s awake for the first time, making him essentially bereft of her.

He turns to look at Geralt, standing by Roach, no longer pretending he isn’t watching this. Their eyes meet. Geralt says nothing. Does nothing.

Jaskier turns back to Dag. Her eyes are lidded. Gingerly, Jaskier raises a hand to touch her. Geralt should cry out stop. He should go over there and drag them apart. He doesn’t.

Jaskier runs his hand over her head, the touch barely-there, just enough pressure to be felt through her fur. Geralt feels that touch like a gentle nudge somewhere within his ribs. It doesn’t feel bad.

He can feel, somehow feel birdsong in that touch. He can feel silk, and music, and laughter. It feels like the smell of perfume and candle smoke. Polished wood beneath his fingers. He’d had another’s hand on Dag before. It did not feel like this.

and THIS description of what touching (or being touched by) a person’s daemon would be like was inspired by how it’s depicted in Disciples of Apollo which is an a+++ daemon AU you should read if you like daemon stuff regardless of whether you’re a fan of M*A*S*H or not... please read it it’s so good.

He wonders what Jaskier feels, touching her.

i do intend to cover this. eventually. if i ever get around to writing more of this series.

Jaskier runs his hand over Dag’s head a second time. She purrs, low and deep in her chest. On the ground, Tansy gasps for breath.

my intention here is that Jaskier’s distress is part of what’s keeping Tansy from waking up, but then as long as she’s unconscious he can’t calm down, so by acting as a kind of stand-in daemon for him Dag is helping him Chill The Fuck Out sufficiently for Tansy to pull herself together.

“Tansy.” Jaskier’s hand falls from Dag’s head, and he reaches for her. “Oh gods, Tansy –” He cradles her in his hands. Her whole body is trembling.

“Jaskier,” she says, and at the sound of her voice all of his breath leaves him, his shoulders shaking, limp, weak with relief. He kisses her, holds her close by his face. Neither of them speak.

Geralt looks away. He meets Dag’s eyes, and she holds his gaze. He understands why she did it. He wouldn’t take it back. He’d do it again, and again. He still doesn’t like it. Dag turns away from him. She lies down beside the fire.

He tucks the blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders, and Jaskier murmurs thanks. He sits. He cleans his sword. The air smells like smoke. They shouldn’t linger here, in the dark. Jaskier’s breath is still fogging the air.

“We should go back to the village,” he says.

“Okay,” says Jaskier. Unsteady on his feet, he levers himself upright with one hand, the other cradling Tansy to his chest. “Okay.”

In the village lights are still burning in the windows. Geralt unties the dæmophage’s mouthless head.

“Should we,” says Jaskier, “talk about this?”

“Hm?” says Geralt.

“You know what I mean,” says Jaskier. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” says Geralt, and taking the creature’s head he marches away.

“I’ve heard of mixed signals,” calls Jaskier in his wake. “But this is ridiculous!”

am not actually 100% happy with this part, i wanted to get this line in but i couldn’t get it to mesh w the tone of the scene

The village is too small for an inn, but as well as coin the monster’s head earns them a bed for the night in the alderman’s house, and an invitation to dinner.

The monster’s head, and perhaps Jaskier; Jaskier, whose boyish smile and pretty dæmon had charmed the alderman and his wife at once, Jaskier, who had come back from the hunt pale, and shivering in a way they must recognise.

geralt thinks Tansy is very pretty. that’s just how his tastes run and he genuinely has no idea that most people don’t think nightingales are like, notably pretty.

There’s only one bed in the room they’re given but the alderman’s daughter makes up a cot. He tells Jaskier to take the bed. Jaskier doesn’t argue. Jaskier says nothing at all.

Since his outburst when they reached the village he’s spoken only to say yes and please and thank you. He lies upon the bed, staring at the ceiling, one hand stroking a slow, contemplative circle on his own stomach. Tansy sits on the pillow beside his head, plucking at his hair, grooming at him like a mother cat with a kitten.

Geralt washes the dæmophage’s blood from his hands. It has dried into the creases in his palms, under his fingernails.

“Will you come to dinner?” he says.

“Not very hungry,” says Jaskier.

Stretched out upon the cot, Dag raises her head. “You should eat,” she says.

Geralt sees her indoors so rarely. It takes him off-guard, sometimes, how large she is compared to human things. The alderman and his family must have been startled, to see him go on a hunt without a dæmon and return with one, but they had said nothing about it.

i did not mention that dag is in this scene before she speaks to emphasise that her presence indoors is unusual and unexpected. i am very smart.

She lies alert, tail flicking, watching over Jaskier.

His hands don’t feel clean. He washes them again. “You’re quiet,” he says.

“Hmm?” says Jaskier.

“Are you alright?” says Geralt.

“Since when do you care?” says Jaskier. “I thought you wanted me to shut up.”

“What will it take for you to give me some peace?” he had said, more than once.

“Hell or high water, probably,” Jaskier had answered, sunnily smiling.

If he hadn’t been fast enough. If the creature had taken something that could not be brought back – the light in his eyes. Warmth. A smile he’d never see again. Not like this. He didn’t want it like this.

once again double meaning re geralt thinking that jaskier is going to leave him because of this

He leans heavily upon the washstand. He breathes out. He’d been fast enough. Jaskier was shaken. That was all. He’d be fine.

“I’m just,” says Jaskier. “Thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” says Geralt.

“What’s it to you?” says Jaskier. A moment’s quiet, and he says, “why don’t elves have dæmons?”

this is my no 1 issue w this fic (which i am otherwise happy with), I really wanted to get this conversation in but wasn’t quite sure where to put it. originally i was going to include it much earlier, and have it be in response to meeting the elves, but i couldn’t get it to work with the pacing and i needed something for them to discuss here so. here it is. i’m not 100% sure it works. i think i understand why jaskier is bringing this up now but i’m not sure how to describe it properly.

The question jars him. It’s like something a child would ask. Why it’s on Jaskier’s mind now, of all times, he can’t imagine. “You know why.”

“I want to hear what you have to say about it,” says Jaskier.

“It’s the way the world is,” says Geralt. “Humans have dæmons. Elves don’t. Others don’t.”

“You’re not human and you have a dæmon,” says Jaskier.

“You know why,” says Geralt again. He can feel Dag’s stare on him, accusing, but he can’t help his frustration. He has the sense that Jaskier is goading him – or trying to catch him out in a lie. He doesn’t know what Jaskier wants from him.

“Do you think it’s lonely?” says Jaskier.

“Being an elf?” says Geralt.

“Mm,” Jaskier agrees.

tbqh it’s just occurred to me now as im re-reading it that part of this is jaskier obliquely asking geralt about his own feelings about having a daemon.

Geralt begins to dry his hands. “You can’t miss what you never had.”

“I don’t know,” says Jaskier. “I miss all sorts of things I’ve never had.”

Geralt waits for him to expand on that thought. But he’s lapsed back into silence. “Elves find dæmons distasteful,” he says. “It bothers them. Like seeing someone with their insides spilling out. They think half-elves born without dæmons are stronger for it.”

At that, mystifyingly, Jaskier laughs a little. “Hear that, Tansy?” he says. “Maybe I would have been stronger if I didn’t have you, like a half-elf. What do you think?”

gjlkghjklghdfj i had so much trouble w this line bcos my beta fully believed that this was jaskier professing that he was half elf so i had to re-write it and somehow at least one reviewer has still thought that was the implication... he’s 100% not half elf in this AU sorry. if i ever get around to writing the sequel it will be evident that he’s not half elf (or like if he is he has no idea)

Tansy clicks her beak. “I think you’d miss me terribly,” she says. “Even if you’d never had me.”

His hands are dry. He stops running the cloth over them, and sets it aside. “Dag’s right,” he says. “You should eat.”

“If you insist,” says Jaskier. “Where are we going next?”

Geralt turns to look at him. He’s gazing up at Tansy, running a finger over her neck. “After dinner?” he says.

“Tomorrow,” says Jaskier. Geralt says nothing, but his silence must speak for itself, for Jaskier looks at him and says, “don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

“Why?” says Geralt.

“I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose,” Jaskier says. “Anyway. I’m working on a song and it isn’t finished.”

“Hm?” says Geralt.

Jaskier’s gaze drifts back to Tansy. “Still needs an ending,” he says.

i wasn’t sure how to end this story and this last line is very cheeky eheheh. i can do what i want.

thank you again for requesting!! i hope u enjoy this commentary. it has been a fun diversion. i’m very pleased w this fic and i love talking about daemon AUs. <3

#witcher daemon au

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peace-coast-island · 4 years ago

Text

Diary of a Junebug

A magically spooky adventure in the woods

Pippa and Mariposa are back at the camp for a magical adventure! Angie and Willow are with us as well, making it the first of hopefully many fun camping trips for Team Magic. Hopefully next time Luna and Skully - and maybe even Cassie, in an unexpected turn of events.

After having a great time during her first gyroid adventure, Pippa wanted to design her own gyroid themed furniture so she and Daisy Jane have been working on that for the past few months. Then Mariposa got involved with planning the event and it went from a fun scavenger hunt in the campsite to an all out adventure in the Moonlit Woods! So along with collecting gyroids we're also collecting trinkets and herbs for Luna and Skully since the woods are full of them during this time of year.

It's also a good excuse to explore this area since we rarely go out this far. Tom Nook warned us that the Moonlit Woods can be tricky to navigate, which is why I've been kinda avoiding that spot. There's still a lot of places outside the camp we have yet to explore and now that I've gotten familiar with the camping grounds after three years of living here, it's time to venture into the unknown.

I'm glad that Pippa's enjoying the camp. Since she and Almie first made the trip here Almie had been saying that being out here has lifted up her spirits a lot. Visiting the camp, training with Luna, and becoming friends with Mariposa, Angie, and Willow has helped her come out of her shell a lot. Things have been looking bright for her - she's doing well in school, her latest blood work is promising, and she's learning more and more about her magic every day.

Mariposa's the one who brought Team Magic together. Pippa and Angie were sort of loners, Willow part of the popular crowd, and Mariposa's the new kid in town. In the short time she's been in Rosevine, Mariposa has shaken things up for Luna and the gang in ways they never expected. She and Pippa haven't known each other for long but it seems like they've been friends forever!

A lot has happened since I last saw them at Emmaline and Minnie's wedding. Luna and Cassie have reached a truce so now they're trying to reconcile. The gyroid event happened to be perfect timing as Mariposa and the others felt it was best to give the sisters some space and privacy. No one really knows how they feel about Cassie but they're willing to hear her out, especially since she willingly threw away everything she worked hard to help Luna, Skully, and Mariposa. Cassie always struck me as someone who wants to bring out the best in others but at the same time won't hesitate to walk all over them to get ahead.

Angie's been coming out of her shell too. Now she's been doing some training with Luna and her magic has tremendously improved. She and Pippa were the kind of friends who mainly stuck together because they didn't fit in anywhere else. It's not that they didn't get along but they were just kinda shoved to the side and ignored by everyone else. Then Mariposa came along and they became notorious for getting caught up in magical shenanigans. It's good to see her perform spells with confidence!

Willow was an unexpected surprise. She comes from a powerful family so she and her siblings carry the weight of their family name. Before Mariposa came along Willow wasn't exactly friendly towards Pippa and Angie. She didn't antagonize them like some of her friends did but more like gave them the cold shoulder and walked all over them for her own personal gain. Turns out that she and Mariposa started off on the wrong note because Willow felt threatened by her. But after a few more missteps Willow grew to like her, and in turn she made amends with Angie and Pippa.

If the timing of the gyroid event wasn't already good, the fact that Willow's parents are out of town is even better. If her parents were home, they probably wouldn't let her come out here. Good thing Emmy and Eddie aren't strict, plus they like Mariposa so they're more than happy to let their baby sister go out on a week long camping trip, even if she has to hobble around in crutches.

Although she can't go climbing and running around, Willow didn't miss out too much on the fun. Not too long after the wedding shenanigans happened and Willow managed to save the day but took a nasty fall in the process. Basically, she landed in a way that not only badly broke her leg but also messed up her back a bit as well. So for a couple weeks she had to use a wheelchair until her legs felt normal again and since last week she's only needed crutches to get around.

We arrived at the woods around 9 so we can make the most out of the day. The thing with these gyroids is that they're easy to miss, especially in a place like the Moonlit Woods. Rare gyroids are always in places that are either difficult to navigate or hard to get to, which is why they're rare. I've rarely come across gyroids that can glow and I've never seen gyroids that can turn transparent like a ghost. It seems fitting for something like that to only be found in a place like the Moonlit Woods.

What I've learned about the woods is that you can't let it outsmart you. Another reason why the stars have aligned for this event is because of Team Magic. Whatever challenges the woods throws at us, the girls always find a way.

Angie's the expert at herbal magic, no cluster of overgrown weeds and thorns is too difficult for her to untangle. Like I said, she's really improved with her magic, especially since discovering not too long ago that she has an innate connection with plants. I can also see that Mariposa has been taking Luna's training to heart, connecting with nature and conjuring spells with the elements. Pippa's magic is different from Willow and Angie's because she's not a witch like they are, but like Mariposa she's found ways to apply Luna's guidance with what works for her. The three of them make a great team!

While searching for treasures, we came across a bunch of signs scattered throughout the woods. We got curious so Mariposa and Pippa decided to try and translate the symbols. The codes turned out to be clues left behind by someone who embarked on a quest to find the ultra rare cocostar tree. Of course, we had to go out and find the tree too because none of us can resist a quest!

According to an old journal left in a log by the explorer, the cocostar tree is a valuable resource. The bark can be used for tea and potions, the tea is believed to relax those in distress and extreme emotional turmoil as well as stomach troubles in general. The fruit of the tree is edible, the taste described as sweet with a browned caramel flavor, good to pair with sweet and savory foods. The leaves are also edible and is said to have a distinct, bittersweet flavor that's good for cooking and making tea.

What puts many off from exploring the woods is how unpredictable it is to navigate. Retracing your steps would drive you crazy because the paths always change. A lot of things about the woods don't make much sense so we just have to accept that. In this case, it makes the adventure a lot more fun!

So while collecting gyroids, we stocked up on berries. Mariposa carved light glyphs in the dirt so we can see where we're going. Angie was able to communicate with the plants and use them as a guide. Willow used her crutches to test out some areas that looked like they might be full of pitfall seeds, saving us a lot of trouble in the process. Pippa researched the codes and puzzles scattered throughout the woods.

By putting our heads together, we managed to find the elusive cocostar tree! Mariposa was the first to spot the tree, a happy accident as she misfired a light orb while we were fighting off vines that ambushed us in the dark. The explorer was right, the tree is massive! The fruit is unlike anything I've ever seen before - it looks more like a fancy dessert than something that grew from a tree. Because the tree's so big, there's more than enough fruit for us to experiment with and for the girls to take back to Rosevine. It took a lot of work, but we did it!

Getting out of the Moonlit Woods was an adventure itself. Since we didn't expect to go on a cocostar tree quest, I wasn't sure how we were gonna lug all this stuff out. Of course, Team Magic found a way to carry the extra stuff that can't fit into backpacks. We'll be back in a couple days to retrieve more gyroids and maybe go on another quest if we stumble across something.

As soon as we got back to the camp, we got to work crafting gyroid stuff and trying out the cocostars. Pippa and Daisy Jane really outdid themselves with the gyroid designs and now the others want to help plan future events. Looks like the camp's all set for gyroid events in the next few months. I can't wait to see what kind of designs the others will come up with!

After spending all day in the woods, it's nice to hang out at the campsite and relax. Since Angie and Willow didn't really get to explore the hangout spots today, that's what we're gonna do tomorrow.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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szopenhauer · 4 years ago

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Have you ever tried to walk on a moving vehicle and fallen over?: I didn’t fall When was the last time you were a passenger in a car and sat in the back?: I always sit in the back

What is the longest your hair has ever been?: to my butt Who does the grocery shopping in your household?: we all do but me and dad most often What is the best thing you’ve ever bought at a thrift shop?: I bought so many things! Have you ever been pulled aside by security at the airport?: not applicable Do you watch The Simpsons regularly?: I don’t but I like this show anyway :) Did you ever go to summer camp when you were younger?: twice Do you know anyone who is fluent in a second tongue?: me Have you ever been pressured into doing drugs? Did you say yes or no?: I said no

When you were younger, did you have a swing set or a playhouse in your backyard? had a swing Do you burn incense? I heard it causes cancer :(

Does being in love make you nervous? yep Have you ever been so quiet that nobody noticed that you were there? from what I remember Did you ever stop having feelings for someone and then started having those feelings again for them? yeah Do you stay home when you are sick or do you still go out? stay home What’s your relationship with the person you last texted? we’re datinh Have you had more than 3 gfs at the same time? nooo Are you in a good mood right now? sigh... Have you kissed someone with braces? I have XD Who’s your favorite redhead? real, celeb or character?

How do you feel about being in the house alone? cool When was the last time you burnt your mouth from eating something too hot? it happens often as I don’t feel it being hot most of the time :( Do you prefer instrumental songs or ones with lyrics? lyrics Do you have any old friends who you still kinda speak to but it’s awkward? sigh... When was the last time you used a quote from a movie in real life? today? Do you forget things easily? depends/some

Would/Do you like having brown eyes? maybe Do you spend a lot of time on the internet? too much Have you bought anyone a Christmas gift? not yet

What is one of your favorite compliments to recieve? compliments are awkward :x Do you compliment other random people? rarely What do you use Facebook for? texting mostly Do you love cartoons? some are nice Do you paint your own nails? I did

Describe your style in one word. comfy Describe your current personality in one or two words. complicated Are you afraid of child birth/pregnancy? it’s one of the reasons why I don’t want any kids What are you favorite bottoms to wear? leggings or pajama pants Do you like dresses? not really Do you eat cake with a spoon or a fork? tiny fork but spoon is fine as well What is your favorite sex position? ;) I'm not a fan of sex What color will you paint your nails next? black if any Are you afraid of ghosts/hauntings? kinda What is your favorite game to play with family/friends? board games and/or car racing games with dad What is your beer of choice? I don’t drink beer Do you like glitter? could say so Have you ever owned a Ouija board? hell no Do you like to text? it seems If you had to be an animal for Halloween, what would it be? bat, cat or wolf (eventually a raccoon but it’s not a Halloween related animal) Do you have more dry skin or oily skin? mixed

Name something that starts with the first letter of your first name. zoo Name something that starts with the first letter of your middle name? - And your lastname. chicken Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle? no way What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? hmm... Twilight or Harry Potter? HP Would you rather be a vampire or a mermaid? vampire P.E or Math? Math or Science? dunno What do you do when someone is really rude to you in public? hard to tell Do you argue with your significant other a lot? we don’t argue Have you ever had a really painful breakup? they were painful to me What do you like to write with? my hands lmfao Do you prefer to be pale or tan? Don’t say in between. pale What is your favorite thing about Christmas? decorations and gifts but also spending time with my parents Do you prefer white or black electronics? black A stranger comes up to you and gives you a big hug, what do you do? :o Do your eyes tear up when you’re nervous? might Apples or Bananas? apples Water or Milk? water Would you milk a cow given the chance? it’s weird Where do you shop for your underwear? I don’t have a fav place to do that

Do you feel more comfortable sleeping in your own bed or in a hotel bed? my own

Do you prefer to travel by plane, car, or boat? car

Who is your favorite travel buddy? dad

What’s the best souvenir you have ever purchased? can’t choose

What’s your favorite book to read during a long ride? I don’t read while travelling

What’s the most entertaining story you have about getting lost? me and my father been talking so loud that someone on the street just stopped by and told us where the place we’re looking for is ^^”

What was the most expensive trip you have ever taken? ask my family

Which songs are on your travel playlist? whatever

Which travel blogs do you follow? none

Do you complain when you are bored, or look for something to do? I’m never bored so I don’t complain about it

Do other people’s complaints ever get on your nerves? some/depends

How did you develop your specific taste in music? can’t explain that

If you drink coffee, how do you like it (with cream, black, etc)? I don’t drink coffee

Did your parents sign you up for things like piano lessons and ballet? no and now I’m a loser

What is your favorite children’s song? Kokoszeczka

Are you good at telling jokes? I am

Other than gas, what do you frequently purchase at a gas station? I don’t purchase anything there

Ten years ago, did you think that this was how the world would turn out? ...

Ever think you might be better off living in a different time period? yup

Do you walk regularly? not regularly but often

If you could have the answer to one question, what question would that be? personal

Do you like any bands from other countries? obvi, most of those I like aren’t from Poland, I don’t like polish music

When was the last time you mailed a handwritten letter? years ago

Do you still receive Christmas cards? my mom does

Do you know anyone who is really hard to please? sadly

What gets you through the day? I wonder myself

If you found out your bf/gf was homosexual, how would you react? I know she is - elseway we wouldn’t date (ok, she could be bi, I know)

If you are homosexual, and you find out your bf/gf is straight, then what? we break up

Have you ever sung karaoke? What songs? Was it fun? it was Ich troje song *embarassed*

Have you called anyone today? What did you talk about? not today

Do you drive around the neighborhood to look at lights around Xmas? I like to look but I don’t ride around just for that

Why are so many single people bitter on Valentine’s Day? because they’re lonely and because this day is fake

What is one tradition you hate participating in? personal

Have you made a fool of yourself today? probably

When was the last time you did something for someone else? recently

Do you let other people choose the radio stations in your car? but I don’t have a car

Would you say that you are an accepting and openminded person? am not

Have you ever been convinced to try something you didn’t want to do? I have been

When was the last time you cheated–at anything? last time I used motherlode in The sims 4 game?

When you are mad at someone, how do you show them? depends

When was the last time you felt you had a reality check? blergh

Have you ever felt out of touch with reality? dissociation, derealisation, depersonalisation etc.

Have you ever had a tooth pulled? not since I was a kid

How long do you you usually chew a stick of gum? didn’t check the timing

Was there any teacher that made life living hell for you? it wasn’t THAT bad but it wasn’t good

How about any student(s)? I’ve been bullied if it’s what you’re asking me about - still could be much worse

When was the last time you felt overwhelmed? 24/7

Do you have any coffee mugs with funny pictures/sayings? Did I just rolled my eyes out loud

Describe something strange that you own? where should I start...

Do you think graffiti is a valid form of artistic expression? I don’t approve of it when it vandalizes property

Are you afraid to walk places at night if you are alone? I’m a petite woman so...

What do you think of people who are shy? hard to keep contact with them

Have you ever gone through a time when you had no friends? How did you deal with it? not counting my family - last several years - I was ok with it as I’m a loner, homebody, introvert

What is something that shouldn’t bother you, but does anyway? fuck off!

Has any food ever made you sick to the point where you’d be afraid to try it again? that happened more than once already

Can you hear traffic right now? I don’t hear anything :3

Have you taken a painkiller today? no

Have you had a nap today? neither

Are you currently in a relationship? If so, do you think it will last? don’t feed my paranoia...

Do you have a hyphenate name or know anyone with one? (eg. Carter-Brown) my sister

Do you take your Christmas decorations down before or after New Years? after

Have you made a large purchase today? I didn’t buy anything today, it’s Sunday

Have you ever used a leaf blower? we don’t own one, we’re not rich

You see someone running around naked in the street. Your reaction? if it’s neighbor’s kid that’s no surprise

Has someone close to you died of murder? no one close to me but still a family member of some sort

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? done

Do you abbreviate when you text? that’s lazy of me, I know

Is anyone in the room on the phone right now? I’m playing a game

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cats-obsessions · 5 years ago

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Mark Your Love in Ink Part 2

A Geraskier soulmates au

Part one - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Rating: T

Chapters: 2 of 5?

Notes: I decided to split this up into 5 parts, but on ao3, I posted parts 2-4 in one chapter. So, if you want to read ahead, read on ao3

It turns out, Geralt can run from ‘fate’ but not Jaskier. Somehow, Jaskier worms his way into his life. Forcefully. And deeply. What he expects to be shared milkshakes and parted ways turns into Jaskier following him to the warehouse, determined to set his eyes on some monsters- lucky for them, the ‘monsters’ weren’t werewolves or noonwraiths like he had expected. Nope, they were elves. Angry elves that captured Geralt and Jaskier, bashed the starving artist’s guitar and kicked them both in the gut. Geralt was able to reason with them, and Jaskier was given a lute for his troubles, but he didn’t get any money for his troubles.

As the sun began to rise over the city, bright lights reflecting off of the buildings, they parted ways. The younger man smiled at Geralt with sunshine in his eyes and said “I’d offer you my number, but I suppose you already have it,” which was true- even if it weren’t on his body, Geralt’s had it memorized for years. He was surprised, though, when the musician added “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime,” with a genuine warmth that told Geralt he wasn’t lying. He was sure that misadventure would have driven the boy away, but he didn’t seem deterred. If anything, he seemed more interested.

Geralt practically passed out once he got home, eager to sleep rather than focus on the situation. He was more alarmed to find the familiar number texting him once he awoke. How did he even get his number?

It didn’t seem to matter much. The next thing Geralt knows, he’s getting roped into going for coffee or drinks, then just hanging out doing things he’d never bothered spending time on before, like playing video games. Then, Jaskier starts showing up at his apartment whenever he wants. Geralt tried to argue, but Roach, his cat, loves Jaskier almost as much as she loves Geralt, which is odd considering she scratches up most strangers.

Every step of the way, he tries and tries to push back against this odd little human that seems set on getting close to him, and every battle he picks, he finds himself losing. When Jaskier starts following him to jobs, he knows he’s gone too far to turn back.

That he was not fond of, but Jaskier is the most persistent thing he’s ever met- like a weed. At first it was just local jobs, things he knew Jaskier could watch without getting in the way, but then he started following him on longer jobs. And, well it’s kind of nice to have someone to camp with, especially when he can convince the musician to stay at the camp while he hunts. He even proves to be useful once or twice. Six months later, Geralt finds himself with an intrusive friend with blurred lines and a lack of respect for personal space.

But it’s not bad, surprisingly.

Geralt finds himself smiling more. Jaskier is tactile and unafraid to show emotion in a way that’s almost frightening after so many years of being a loner. And Geralt, he puts up with it- at least that’s what he says. In reality, he does his best to keep his emotions from spilling out of ‘friends’ and toward something more.

Because he doesn’t believe in fate or destiny.

A soulmate bond is a social concept made up to explain magical connections that only go skin deep.

That’s all it is.

So, he doesn’t fall for Jaskier as if he could prove how fake Destiny is by refusing to feel.

Geralt hums some song that’s been stuck in his head for days- certainly not because the dumb musician had been playing it last time they saw each other. He’s cooking dinner one late evening when he hears his apartment door handle jiggle followed by several knocks. Does he really expect it to be unlocked for him all the time?

As soon as he unlocks the door, it’s being opened by the musician on the other side. He’s a little flushed and his hair is messy as he complains “If you gave me a key, this would be easier.”

“If I gave you a key, you’d never leave me alone.” Geralt rolls his eyes. “Did you bike here in the middle of the night?” he asks, noticing the helmet in one of his hands, a duffle bag in the other, and his lute thrown over his shoulder “and what’s all this?”

“My stuff- for our trip.” Jaskier answers as if it were obvious. He throws his bag down, slips off his shoes, and begins to make himself at home. Geralt watches as Jaskier moves to the living room, stopping to pet Roach on his way. The brown tabby shoves her head into Jaskier’s palm, meowing happily to greet him. Geralt does his best not to smile at the sight.

Their trip. Geralt had tried to convince him to sit this one out to no avail. It will be a week-long trip at the least- granted he can even find the beast. He got reports of a possible griffon terrorizing an isolated town a few days north of them. They’ll have to drive part way, then hike through the forests and camp there for however long it will take to find and defeat it. But Jaskier hasn’t seen a griffon yet, and he’s enamored with them- that’s probably Geralt’s fault, though.

“We don’t leave for two more days, Jaskier.” Geralt reminds him.

“It’s better to be prepared early, isn’t it?”

Geralt lets it go, turning back to his cooking. Jaskier can entertain himself if he’s so set on showing up unannounced. Though, Geralt throws an extra pork cutlet on the pan; the gods know the boy doesn’t eat enough real food.

He can hear the musician talking to Roach in the background. He’s almost surprised Jaskier hasn’t pestered him about his day yet. But, he doesn’t refrain from taking advantage of the momentary silence. With the meat on the pan, crackling and popping while it cooks, there’s nothing to do but wait. So, he pulls out his phone and scrolls mindlessly through the local news. He doesn’t care much for politics, but occasionally things will pop up that point to creatures, monsters, and jobs.

‘Local YouTuber Dies in Attempt to Catch Kikimora’

A dark figure can be seen in the background of what he assumes is a screen shot from the recording. “It’s an Ekimmara, you morons.” Geralt scoffs under his breath. Typical. Mankind has been chasing after monsters since the dawn of time. The widespread use of cameras only made things worse. He scrolls down further, and another headline pops out to him.

‘Local Dive Bar Found to be Drug Front: Shoot Out Between Owners Leaves Renters Evicted’

Also not terribly surprising; humans are always doing these kinds of things. Over his near century of a life, he’s seen more deaths from greed than monsters could ever cause. But, wait… he looks closer, picking up the details of the image provided. Isn’t that-

“Jaskier, what the fuck?” he barks, turning to face the man now sprawled out on his couch.

“What did I do?” he asks innocently, though the cringe he’s trying to hide tells the witcher he knows exactly what he did.

“You didn’t think to start with ‘Penellie’s had a shoot-out.’!?”

“Ah,” Jaskier starts uncomfortably. “Right- well, you know, it didn’t seem like the most important thing.” he looks down to fidget with his nails- a telltale nervous habit.

Geralt bites back his urge to press for more information “Are you okay?” He asks, finding himself out of his comfort zone.

“Of course! I’ve seen a lot worse.” Jaskier shrugs.

“Wait, were you there when it happened?”

“No, no, dear witcher. I was in my apartment. Apparently,” He starts with renewed energy, “the whole building has drugs in the walls! Those possums that were always making racket- Probably thugs shoving drug packets into our shared walls. I guess Penellie and James had a disagreement about how to split the funds. It wasn’t so much as a shoot out as shooting each other in the close confines of their office.” Jaskier makes a gun shape with his hand as he says it, pretending to shoot at Geralt. “Guess renting from your boss isn’t that good of an idea, huh?”

“Who woulda thunk.” Geralt murmurs flatly, remember the exact words ‘don’t rent from your boss’ coming out of his mouth when Jaskier moved to that dump six months ago. Of course, Jaskier was working as a bartender, and Geralt expected him to get fired and evicted in one go rather than an unknowing renter of drug lords. “They didn’t make you ID the bodies or anything, did they?” he pushes. He’s not sure why it matters to him.

“Oh, come on now. It’s very nice of you to think you have to protect my innocence, but like I said- I’ve seen worse. Specifically, I’ve seen you do much worse. You know, most people have never seen the intestines of anything much less helped dig a liver out of a cave troll or pull teeth from a foglet while brain matter is splattered around them. You’re quite lucky I’m so well adjusted.” Jaskier rambles, accentuating his words with wild gestures of his hands. Geralt ignores it, though.

“You’ve never seen me kill a human.”

“Well, you haven’t recently, right?” he says nonchalantly like he wouldn’t be bothered if the answer were yes.

Geralt shakes his head “Not supposed to, though I’m tempted often,” he grumbles, shooting Jaskier a glare. The musician sees the fondness behind it though and chuckles a little. Somehow, he seems to know Geralt’s only so exasperated because he cares- against his best efforts not to, of course.

Geralt finishes up in the kitchen and pops the caps off two beers, handing one to Jaskier along with a plate of food.

“Oh, thanks! You don’t have to, though,” Jaskier smiles, a little blush tinging his cheeks. Geralt pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Had extra,” he murmurs, shoving Jaskier’s feet off the couch so he can sit and eat as well. After a few bites of food and a long drink of beer, he finally asks “What now?”

“Well, the place across the street will probably have a drop in price,” Jaskier smirks.

“Seriously? Should live somewhere safer.”

“I would, but you know I can’t afford that… I suppose I could get a roommate” Jaskier says, biting his lip as he stares at Geralt.

The witcher grunts. He knows exactly what Jaskier is asking even without the words leaving his mouth.

“Come on, Geralt! It’d be fun!” He pesters “You live in a dump, too. Roach deserves better than this! Don’t you, Roachy?” he coos, the cat mewls at him as though she’s agreeing. Traitor. “We could afford something a bit nicer together. And I promise I won’t get in your way more than usual. No jam sessions late at night or early in the morning. I’ll even cook sometimes. Please… Unless, you want me to find some stranger from Craigslist to live with me… But hm, isn’t that how the Craigslist killer found his victims?”

Geralt grimaces. “No- he killed a masseuse he hired through craigslist.” Is Jaskier even old enough to remember when that happened?

“Ah, I thought he asked them on dates,” Jaskier muses.

“No, you’re thinking of the Grindr- no, the Tinder killer.”

“Ah, so Grindr is a safe app to find roommates with then?” Jaskier asks, tilting his head as if it were an innocent question; he bites his fork as if he were thinking- fucker even flutters his long eyelashes. Geralt does his very best not to stare at his over obvious flirting. He knows exactly what Jaskier is doing, yet that doesn’t seem to prevent it from working.

Geralt groans, pinching the bridge of his nose “Mac n’ cheese doesn’t count as cooking. No unannounced guests, and do not touch my swords when I’m gone.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t make me regret this, Pancratz.”

“Yes! You won’t- I promise.” Jaskier beams.

A silence falls over them while they eat before Jaskier pipes up again “Wanna watch the Monster from Brokilon? it’s the one with the Leshen!”

“Witchers don’t even know that much about Leshens; I can only assume what kinds of inaccuracies are in this movie.”

Jaskier smirks, “You can lecture me about it afterwards.”

It has become somewhat of a past time for Jaskier to find various old and horrible horror movies to force Geralt to watch. At first, he was simply curious if there was any truth in them, but once he found Geralt ranting about their atrocious and uneducated portrayals of even the simplest beasts, he seemed determined to put the witcher through more.

For some reason Geralt puts up with it. Jaskier usually ends up talking over it half the time anyways, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having someone to share his monster facts with. There’s something that lights up in the musician’s eyes whenever they talk about creatures and adventures; he doesn’t shy away from it like other humans.

So, he hums contentedly as Jaskier sets up the movie. When it starts, Geralt rests his arm on the back of the couch as he always does. It’s not his fault if somewhere in the night, Jaskier scoots closer and closer until he’s pressed up against the witcher. He’s just like that. And if he falls asleep, his head drooping to rest on Geralt’s shoulder, the witcher only lets him because Jaskier’s had a rough day.

#geraskier #geralion #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #soulmates au #tattoo au #oh gosh I hope the read more button works #fic #geraskier fic #fic rec #fluff #modern au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my stuff #roommates

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