#do i appreciate the irony of all but saying 'die to your self' in the same breath as discussing my Weird Religion Issues? yes

[zepumpkineater]

I want to talk about my personal favorite fanon interpretation of Hank.

It all begins with Hank driving through a ruined Nevada, not an uncommon scene at all in Madness Combat. This cartoon begins with the typical expectation, in classic Hank fashion he's on his way to cause untold violence unto those who wish him harm.

And in no time flat, Hank does exactly that. One by one, the bodies of AAHW begin to rack up, incorrectly colored blood Engineers and all. All in all, it's a pretty good action scene. Not the smoothest animation the Madness animation scene has provided, but pretty impressive for 12 years ago.

But here's where this cartoon changes pace, and begins to divert from your traditional Madness animation. We see Jeb and Sheriff, characters that we're used to seeing in an antagonistic role, promising a better Nevada with their brand new Factory. Kind of wild how this parallels Jeb's misguided attempts at saving Nevada in the main series, when this one aired in 2011, before we even had Nexus Classic to give us Jeb's backstory. It's clear this factory is doing Nevada no good, and the story changes from here.

Here we see a looming, massive tower, not at all unfamiliar to the sight of the Nexus Tower looming in the distance, a symbol of Nevada's destruction. This tower is no different, Hank looks over it and his goals are immediately recontextualized. Hank's violence suddenly seems a lot less meaningless, less fueled by the pure desire to cause chaos and to kill. Instead, the goal is clear. Get to the top. Destroy the factory. Save Nevada.

A familiar foe stands in his way. Is he up to his old tricks, to play with his old pal Hank, or is there something darker hiding beneath that metal mask? I always got the vibe that Tricky wasn't fighting for himself here, but rather because he had to.

After a prolonged battle with the Clown, we are greeted with a most unique sight in a Madness cartoon. Blue skies, green grass, flowing water. Serene music as the birds fly through the air. Hank looks alien here, like he doesn't belong, a product of a ruined world in a small bastion of perfection.

This is one of my favorite shots in the whole cartoon. Hank, this bloodthirsty killer we've come to know and love, doing something so very vulnerable and human. Reaching for the sun, basking in its warmth. Something he probably hasn't felt in a very long time. Something worth killing for, something worth dying for.

And die he does. With the last of his conscious self, Hank fruitlessly reaches for a flower next to him as he dies. Hank doesn't look any less like a foreign invader here, an entity from a world that doesn't belong here, and I really appreciate that contrast. This small gesture of him reaching for the flower speaks volumes on the kind of Hank this is, one who has some love for the world he so effortlessly murders his way through. Someone who, somewhere deep inside, wants that killing to stop. One who wants to appreciate life, instead of living in death.

Jeb doesn't look any less alien here, a savior twisted and corrupted by the doomed world he promised to save. Again I'm extremely impressed in how Pegosho managed to capture Jeb's moral ambiguity here, in spite of it being somewhat nonexistent in the cartoons at the time. I think it also says something that his halo appears to be more in line stylistically to the world around him, as he sticks out like a sore thumb.

Jeb's last moments are spent looking in awe at the corpse of his fallen adversary, with his own factory's slogan taped onto the bomb that's about to spell his doom. Say what you want about Mr. Wimbleton, but you can't say he doesn't have a flair for irony. Maybe it's spite, one last spit in the face of Jebus, or maybe it's because he really does believe in that slogan. He wants the world to be alive, and maybe he has to die to accomplish that.

My personal favorite shot in the entire cartoon. A massive tree, perfectly contrasting the intimidating tower producing a cloud of suffocating smog, now breathing life into this ruined world. Hank's sacrifice was not in vain, and though he didn't live to see it, he bought back a piece of life into the cruel and merciless Nevada. It's hopeful, it's beautiful, it's everything Madness normally isn't.

As we all know, Hank is acting very out of character in this cartoon outside of his murderous pursuits, but I enjoy and love it all the same. Again, this is a favorite fanon interpretation. This Hank has so many layers of depth to his morality, his goals, his violence, and he never speaks a single word in the entire cartoon. He simply acts. Through small gestures and actions we can glean his personality and how it contradicts his canon counterpart. It's really great.

I love this cartoon. It's called Madness: Ascend. Please consider watching it, in spite of its age, it's one of my favorites.

[mocacheezy]

Moca watches: Fox’s Peter Pan & The Pirates, ep. 15: The Play's the Thing

an episode with a short depiction of Ides of March, by the way of a play. I did not know this when I started watching it

The curse of loving theater and wanting to be an actress since I was little, means that I always put off watching ANYTHING to do with theater performances bcs the cringe is guaranteed on my part.

Please don't do Yorick dirty. I know it is Romeo & Juliette, I got that spoiled, but still. Please please please.

Smaller screens are great for watching videos with lower resolution

Cookson is pretty damn skilled. Climbing that twig of a tall tree? Amazing. AND TYING A SNARE WHILE UPSIDE DOWN?

Cookson, your food may be shit according to the crew, but you are a badass in setting a trap. Even if it is by following the Captain's instructions.

Ghosts in the middle of the dayyyy

FUCKING "ET TU, BRUTE"? ON IDES OF MARCH NO LESS??? XDDD

Oh putting off watching this episode was so worth it XDDDDDDD

LOVE WENDY! BRAVO, BRAVO!! WHAT CAN'T THIS GIRL DO, I ASK OF THEE.

Once again, Wendy would be my role model as a kid. I absolutely adore this girl.

SHE'S THE FUCKING DIRECTOR OF THE PLAY, MY GIRL, MY AMAZING DARLING GIRL. BRAVO, BRAVO I SAY!!!

At one point (when I finish the show most likely), I will absolutely do a Wendy appreciation post.

Hook isn't even yelling, he is just making a threat over the potential false report of Peter's death at the hand of Lost Boys. But sxdcfghjkdfvgbjkrftgbhj

And I am so happy the animation quality is good, because oh my goth

My friends may say my taste is atrocious but hhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The irony is making him chuckle, and oh my goth the stealthiness, and the crew is competent and aaaaaaaa

Damn they made a whole ass bed for this. I'm surprised Peter is actually taking the role of a corpse seriously.

My urge to pace around over how excited I am is being held at bay by the fact I want to finish this episode by midnight bcs it is LITERALLY THE IDES OF MARCH DFGVBJ (edit: I failed this)

"Not now Wendy! This is my big funeral speech!" I love that they are in fact invested in the play

And well, Peter is getting a nice power nap out of it.

Hook is so fucking angry, and yet he is still capable of whispering, I am losing my mind

The crew being incredibly superstitious is just… just absolutely perfect. I love it.

"And as long as we are here, carpe diem."

My man is so starved for culture. He is going to pass up an opportunity of killing all of them because of Shakespeare.

"This child is taking egregious liberties with the text." Honey, sweetie, spoken like a true theater lover. He is so insulted by this, I love this so much dfgvbhdfgudhfjdhvdudgkjk LOSING MY MIND OVER HERE

Give them some grace honey, they are children. Not everyone can have Wendy's intellect.

You know what, I am just gonna listen to the episode first. I cannot watch this man perfectly recite Shakespeare from memory when he could've been slaying the bane of his existence. The man has such flourish while he speaks, I NEED TO TEAR SMTH APART WITH MY TEETH.

I am the perfect example of this picture

Starkey spoke, so I thought "Surely the man is done." NOPE, NOPR HE IS STILL GOING, BE STILL MY HEART, I WOULD DIE IF HE WAS REAL AND ON STAGE.

Sit my ass in the small stage theater and have me stare there beet red.

This would be the levels of thirsting I had over Sebastian Cavazza and his monocomedy, Shakespeare's Villains, 1998. I was in third or fourth row and he addressed me at some point bcs this was also a conversational type of play and I nearly fucking died. Fucking Sebastian Cavazza, I cannot believe this.

ANYWAY, I'll just end up writing a super duper self-indulgent modern au someday and lose my mind while writing that.

BACK TO THE EPISODE

WHY ARE YOU SO PRETTY THIS IS UNFAIR, UNFAIR UNFAIR UNFAIR!!!!!

LLOSINF MY MIND OVER HERE

HOLY SHIT AN OVATION? Deserved ofc, but by the kids? PETER is acknowledging this?! My goth I fucking ADORE THIS.

The crew is confused, Hook is insulting Peter, ah, life

HE IS EVEN FUCKING HONEST ABOUT HIS SKILL AND WHEN AND WHERE HE ACQUIRED IT. Someone hold me, I think I'm going to faint.

Wendy, darling, you are feeding this man's ego so much.

HIS FACE OH MY GOTH SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK I AM GOING FERAL

I love me an eloquent man and he is expressive to boot and charismatic and- I am going to break something.

Wendy isn't falling for this, meanwhile Peter is SO into seeing where this goes.

I love that they shake on it with steel. I love this so much.

NO, THEY ACTUALLY STAB THEIR WEAPONS INTO THE WOOD AND THEN SHAKE ON IT. Peter Pan, you are a decent lad and I love this beyond words.

"Shall we get started then?" "Aye!" Daaaawwww~ ☺️☺️☺️☺️🥰

THEY BUILT A WHOLE STAGE. I will end Mason when it breaks.

HE CAST PETER AS TYBALT "It fits your personality to a T."

I do wonder if casting Peter as Romeo would lead to every single girl in Neverland to really try and kill Wendy for real. Everyone is jealous of this girl.

I hate the fact that all the bad things that are happening are not because Hook planned it, but because his men are being dumb-asses. I can't really blame them, they did not sign up for this. They do not appreciate theater, this wasn't in the job description.

"But Captain, sir. We're buccaneers, not actors!" That's what I was saying! Thank you Mullins.

Honey, baby, sweetie, you would get canceled by all of tumblr for playing Romeo in this production, even though there are no nefarious predatory undertones.

HOWEVER, for thirsty wenches like myself this is a gift sent from the gods. I will require a fainting couch, I am… I am losing my mind, and a vacation to the sea side would not cure me.

Of course there is nefarious plans, but Hook, are you sure killing off the second child that you can engage with on somewhat of an intellectual level, on this island, is worth it?

… oh what am I saying ofc it is.

Bonding between Short Tom and him. Oh my goodness, he is smiling, he loves Tom so much, I am so happy to get story exposition via parrot talk.

I cannot believe my "Is he you know" meme screenshot came from Wendy assuring Peter that Romeo and Juliet is a love story.

Can you imagine if Slightly got praise from Hook for fixing the dress? He would never let that go, hr would forever bring that up.

That is one very pretty bottle.

Hook honey, I get that you are eager to see Pan suffer the loss of Wendy, but you are too eager even for a director.

Honey. Baby. You absolute dumbass.

I refuse to believe Wendy didn't see this coming and intentionally riled him up.

He could die because of his stupidity. A true fucking actor. An absolute dumbass. My taste in fictional men remains unmatched.

I hope Tink changed the contents into grape juice or smth

In this moment he knew,

he fucked up.

He is going to have the most dramatic of all death speeches.

Bro is mourning Jolly Roger, The Spanish Main, and then the death of Peter.

I want to share the embarrassing truth that this 22minute long episode is taking me more than three hours to finish, because of the WAY THIS FUCKER SPEAKS.

He is so dramatic. So very dramatic. If the previous episodes didn't convince me already, this one would certainly be the one to do so.

Jezus Marija, someone yell timber, he even falls to the ground as he dies. He'd be holding a white lily if it was on hand. Someone place two coins on his eyes for the ferryman.

HE GETS AN OVATION FOR HIS DEATH.

I am learning bible verses thanks to this man. I just learned an old testament quote because of this dramatic man. Tim Curry truly had a blast with this role.

Exit left pursued by Tootles the bear

I want to say more, but all that would come out would be keysmashes, hearts and sobbing emojis.

So lets just say, I really, really, REALLY, like this episode.

I need a million screenshots. Excuse me, while I spend the next 7 business days losing my mind in solitude while shredding fabric with my teeth.

[girafeduvexin]

Thinking about Yulia and Victor. I mixed P1 and P2 here, not everything in P1 is still true in P2 but anyway :

- they share the same theme "Useless science", which could have been Daniil's theme too. They both have huge library, again certainly like Daniil would have if he lived here. All of them studied at the Capital : they are scholars, intellectuals... but it's useless against the Plague.

- Yulia and Victor visit the hospital and are, with Lara, the only npc to do that (not counting Rubin and Clara because they're healers and they are supposed to be here). They are also both in the town hall when Block arrives, with Daniil. They might be intellectuals but they are also pragmatics - it's especially interesting for Yulia because she's neither a leader nor a healer but she still wants to help.

- Yulia has an high opinion of Victor, and while I don't think Victor ever talked about her, she was invited by the Kains to the town iirc, so he must appreciate her, at least professionally.

- He's an Utopian and he's devoted to sacrifice his own life for the greater good. She's an Humble and she's ready to... sacrifice her life for the greater good (in P1 at least). She's the founder of the Humbles, but she used to work with the Kains : her fatalism directly opposes their utopism, but in the end, Utopians and Humbles sacrifice themselves anyway. She compares herself to Simon while talking to Clara which... says a lot.

(Could do a whole post about the Utopians and the irony for Daniil, who wants to fight death, to have as a bound people who are fully ready to die for a greater cause (Eva, the Kains) or self-destructives (the Stamatins) )

- More on that, Yulia wants Victor to lead the town, but he doesn't seem to want to, and he apparently would rather have a more passive role (like he had when Nina was alive). This behavior is very.... humble, maybe?

- This one is more... dubious but they are both, imo, aware of the true nature of the town, to some extent : a game. Yulia is a fatalist, she "predicts" events, which could be explained by her realizing her choices don't matter in this game. Clara says in Marble Nest that she's the only person to "truly understands" what's going on... As for Victor, it might be far-fetched but in P2, he created the clocks you use to save and he discusses time and how it works in the game, nearly breaking the fourth wall. He also says stuff like "in reality, this town looks completely different" or "it's like something is pulling my strings" and hm. Waiting for the Bachelor route to say more.

- He made the clocks you use to save... She made the roads, therefore the map, you use to guide yourself in the city, to see your objectives etc.

[theyellowobsessedwriter]

The brain said "cheesy and wholesome", but turns out I don't exactly know how to do that, lol. Take this as my best attempt at it.

Azutara Teashop AU, part 1 of maybe 5? 1793 words.

Not for all the tea in Ba Sing Se - Part 1

Azula had never held much appreciation for Ba Sing Se. In her eyes, the city's greatest quality was the corrupt and fragile system of government that had allowed her to pull off a coup d'état within a week, but that wasn't exactly something that could be admired and savored from the outside. Also, who knew if the puppet king had yet started to learn anything from the lessons that had been beaten into him.

Point was, Azula's opinion of the Earth Kingdom's capital wasn't likely to improve now, not when the perspective from which to look at it was that of the dilapidated streets around the teashop. She did enjoy the not-so-subtle irony in that both conquerors of the city were now behind a counter, serving its citizens… as much as that could improve her mood.

Working in the back of the shop, among whistling kettles and pastries to be baked, had at least the advantage of sparing her the sight of the former crown prince of the Fire Nation mingling with those he’d had the nerve to call "respectable customers". For all the obvious flaws the old man hardly made any effort to hide, the show of the Dragon of the West sinking so low would for sure affect her mental health in counterproductive ways. And they had already established during the initial days that Azula's talents did not lie in the front of the house.

Spirits help her understand what had gone through the minds of Zuzu and the Avatar when they’d proposed this probation agreement, but far be it from her to miss an opportunity of reducing by a year the time spent in that useless lunatic asylum. Though, to be honest, not having electrocuted her uncle when he’d commented that the experience would help her “turning over a new leaf”, should’ve been a sufficient display of self-restraint to grant her pardon on the spot.

She irritably rang the bronze bell for the third time, without anyone coming to take the tray from the pass. Instead, as if to mock her further, the old man's laughter resonated even louder in the room. Azula grabbed the order herself, almost throwing it onto table ten and then stomping towards her worm sloth of an uncle.

However, as soon as she got close enough to the booth, where he’d even allowed himself to sit down beside his consumers, she regretted ever having left the back. Because those people talking to her uncle weren't just any patrons, no. They were none others than the Southern Water Tribe siblings.

— … happy to finally be able to sit in the new shop and order something, — the girl was saying with a toothy smile.

— When I heard about your arrival, I really hoped that you’d manage to spare an hour to come and visit!

The first one to notice her was the peasant nonbender, at which point Azula realized that her time window for a strategic retreat had vanished. She approached the table, causing the conversation to suddenly die down, but she didn't spare the two foreigners another glance and simply said: — I'd like to remind you that we have other tables to take care of, uncle.

The two commoners kept staring at her. And there some who considered Azula to be the one who didn't know how to behave in social situations.

Her uncle's expression had become neutral as she saw her appear. — Of course. Would you be so kind as to take our guests' orders, then?

The Fire Nation princess opened her mouth to clarify that, first, she wasn't kind, and especially not so kind as to willingly humiliate herself in front of the Avatar's friends. Still, her uncle didn't wait to hear a single word and vanished with a speed that was supernatural for someone his size.

Azula blinked. Her gaze then fell back on the two guests, taking a moment to study them better. Both of them stood out like a sore thumb amidst the shop, dressed in blue and white as they were, though their fashion was embarrassingly basic for the role of war heroes and ambassadors which, she’d heard in passing, they had taken on. The boy (she couldn't remember his name. Suki? No, maybe Suki was someone else) had a few extra hairs on his chin that perhaps represented an attempt to grow a beard, but otherwise neither he nor his sister looked very different than the last time they met; the latter had only changed hairstyle, sporting her mane natural. A variation that suited her, noticed Azula's mortified-but-certainly-not-forgotten sense of taste.

Despite hating her own concern, the princess shuddered at what the pair of siblings must’ve been thinking of her right now. With her long, perfectly groomed hair a distant memory, wearing only a baggy green tunic and the shop apron, even the crumbling version of herself during the Agni Kai had appeared much better.

The waterbender had started to nervously fiddle with the menu, while her brother cleared his throat and began: — Well… long time no see, huh?

That lameness should’ve been far more illegal than any war crime the court had ever thought of charging Azula with.

— Welcome to The Jasmine Dragon, — she replied instead, choosing to hide behind the routine she’d memorized through her attempts at serving tables. — We are proud to serve the best tea in Ba Sing Se. Customer satisfaction is our priority, so take a minute to consider your options and all the combinations that the menu includes. If you would like to experiment with some variation, just ask and we will try to accommodate you.

Their expressions now turned into those of two people who just saw a nine-headed platypus bear appear in front of them. Her uncle hated that introduction she had written as well, but Azula remembered it being more or less what a waiter had recited the only time she'd set foot in a teashop, and it had been much classier a place than The Jasmine Dragon, so it had to count for something.

— Okay, um, — the waterbender muttered, scanning the menu. — I think I'll have…

— We also serve peach oolong as a seasonal specialty.

— Oh, right.

— So, Azula… — the other peasant interjected, sparing no thought for her rightful title — do tell, would you say it was a shock to adapt to life in Ba Sing Se?

She clenched her jaw. — … my uncle also recommends the lotus-flavored green tea.

— Wow, don’t you look crazy about this job? — This time he earned a jab from his own sister. — What?

— Really? — the girl hissed.

— Alright, let me just try something.

The southern native leaned toward Azula to wave a hand in front of her face, and her reflexes took over, slapping it away.

— Ouch! — he complained with a pout. — Well, thank goodness. I was wondering if Long Feng had brainwashed you into a Joo Dee or whatever.

The waterbender giggled behind her palm, and Azula only then realized that, at some point during the interaction, a forced smile worthy of the Dai Li's army of tour guides had appeared on her lips. That realization alone was enough for the corners of her mouth to turn downwards into a grimace.

— If you want to order something — she blurted out, in a harsh tone that invigorated her incredibly — just do it, or leave!

He gave her a pacifying gesture. — Easy, easy. That's what I was going to do anyway. Tea and cakes is not for me, I’d rather go check out the food stalls down the street. And you be careful with your order, you know what happens in teashops to unwanted customers, — he concluded, addressing his sister.

And with such words he left, although not before he shot Azula a glare that took her a couple of seconds to decipher as a warning.

She frowned a bit. — What in the spirits’ name was he referring to?

— I think he meant they spit in their tea.

— How barbaric. He should undoubtedly reconsider the places he frequents.

Now Azula received a curious look, only adding to her frustration.

— I guess some things never change, — the guest quietly said.

Perhaps. But the biggest revolution, one the Fire Nation’s princess had already had the opportunity to observe and of which she was seeing more and more confirmations around her, was that people no longer acted afraid of her. The distrust remained, but the fear had vanished. The truly disturbing fact seemed to be that she was already starting to get used to it.

— As for your order…

— Peach oolong sounds perfect.

— Any pastries?

— Um, only some butter cookies, if you have any.

— Obviously. — She risked giving the girl a sidelong glance. — Just try not to keep my uncle at the table. Even if it doesn't seem like it, he has work to do. — She was about to add: “If you intend to lounge, you can very well do it at home”, but, considering that uncle and niece now shared the same apartment, it would only mean more headaches for her.

— Ah, by the way… — the waterbender resumed as she handed her the menu. — It's Katara, from the Southern Water Tribe.

— What?

— My name, — the girl clarified, furrowing her brow.

It was Azula's turn to stare. — I know. Why do you feel the need to repeat it?

— You… Oh. I thought… I really believed you didn't remember. It's not as if, well, we were ever formally introduced.

— It’d be hard to miss your name, it's been tremendously popular in the last three years. — Along with her brother's… whatever it was. She may have learned it at some point during the war, but then it slipped from her memory once it had no more utility.

The gaffe seemed to make the waterbender blush, though it was slightly hard to tell with her complexion. Something about the whole situation didn't sit well with Azula's mind. The entire Avatar’s posse may indeed be made of insufferable, sappy do-gooders, but this girl acted far too calm and well-disposed towards her. And it was plain as day that she wasn’t the kind of person who’d be good at pretending.

— I'll go make your tea, — she announced, impatiently turning on her heel.

For a moment Katara looked like someone rapidly searching for an appropriate response to give but, with Azula's sudden parting, the reply never came.

The firebender made sure to use the menu to hit her uncle on her way to the kitchen, and regained a satisfied smirk when he almost fell flat over the table of the customers he was chatting with. After closure, she would reiterate the fact that she didn’t want to take orders again in her life. Not for all the tea in Ba Sing Se.

[bluekat12345]

I know I already just sent an ask about Oldest Child Cody, but I had another one immediately afterward. How do the siblings act differently towards Cody once they learn about his issues? Also, what are their personal (likely internal) reactions to this information as a whole?

Again, no problem, I love answering your questions!

Overall, once they learn about Cody's issues, it would cause them to see his past behavior, actions, and words in a whole new light. It would make them realize that when their father or their partners not so subtly hinting that Cody wasn't as perfect as they thought were more accurate than they realized. They might even feel guilty for not realizing this themselves sooner and wonder how each of them may have subconsciously encouraged Cody's toxic perfectionism, even if he says none of them did anything wrong. Now understanding Cody better, they would try to help him, in their own ways.

Kade: He would just be really awkward about the entire situation and wouldn't really know what to do. After spending a lot of time feeling like he was stuck in Cody's shadow and wanting to be better of him, only to learn all of this, would kind of make him feel like he's wasted his time and maybe dodged a bullet by not having as much attention as Cody gets. Not really knowing what to do, he would say things like Cody has never been that perfect or point out Cody's supposed flaws that he always saw but never mentioned, but that he still loves him, so there's people that will still like him regardless of his flaws and that everyone liking him is overrated, anyway. The others might scold him for being insensitive, but Cody would actually appreciate Kade's words and would actually be grateful for them, so he would smile and thank Kade.

Dani: I imagine her looking back at Cody's past behavior the most, wondering how she missed the warning signs and if some of Cody's heroic acts, especially the dangerous ones that got him hurt, were fueled more by self-hatred than actually trying to be heroic. She would want to help Cody just like the rest of her family, but would be firmer about it, making it clear that she will not allow Cody to treat himself badly. I mean she will watch him like a hawk, or close enough, to make sure he gets proper sleep, eats properly, and doesn't put himself in unnecessarily risky situations. But Dani will also encourage Cody to talk to her about anything if he needs someone to talk to, even if he thinks it's meaningless or a waste of time, promising Cody that whatever he wants to say is safe with her. The irony is not lost to anyone that she is acting like a mother hen to her brother who usually acts like that to them, which would help Cody understand what his siblings probably felt when he did this to them, but he would also like that she cares enough to do all this after denying himself this kind of care for so long.

Graham: Knowing all this would actually help Graham better understand Cody and his overprotective tendencies. And it would actually provide enough context to help Graham when dealing with Cody's overprotectiveness. Obviously, he would be concerned and would want to help Cody let go of his toxic perfectionism. So, whenever Cody's overprotectiveness occurs, instead of just trying to argue he can handle himself or just resign to Cody's requests, Graham would be able to calmly explain that Cody doesn't have to worry about him, and that he'll be okay and whatever happens isn't Cody's fault. Cody will always worry, habits die hard after all, but he'll be able to better give Graham the space he needs and better understand his overprotectiveness can be more harmful than helpful.

[chamerionwrites]

i just want to say that you are incredibly cool and i really appreciate your attention to,, detail i guess is the word? following your blog and reading the news articles you link to & your commentary has definitely made me reconsider many of my political beliefs & changed them for the better, so i'm really grateful to you for that. thank you, and i hope you have as good of a day as possible :))

I get embarrassed about responding to this kind of thing publicly, but I was really touched by this and wanted to be sure you knew that I saw it and appreciated it so: thank you so much, Anon.

And fair warning that I’m about to get disconcertingly earnest and thus prove that I’m the exact opposite of cool, but I feel like it’s important to point out that much of what I post is me learning from other people? A lot of what you see here is essentially me making notes to myself about things I’m reading, or things I want to read, or scrapbook-pasting vaguely linked ideas that I want to synthesize because there’s a connection there but I haven’t yet articulated it to my own satisfaction. I’m really glad that it’s given you things to think about. But I wouldn’t feel quite right responding to this without acknowledging that I’m thinking alongside you, or that anything worthwhile I have to say about politics is influenced by a lot of sharp-minded and compassionate people both online and off - or that ultimately, you’re the one who sat down and did the reconsidering.

Like - I have a tough time discussing this except in generalities but it’s in a good cause so fuck it: I was raised in hyperconservative fundamentalist Christianity. Clearly I’m not a hyperconservative fundamentalist now. And the process of moving from Point A to Point B there is kind of akin to having that “YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPAGANDA” meme acid-etched on the inside of your skull. If I’m attentive to detail it’s at least partly because I’m uneasy about missing a trick. If I’m pathologically fretful about nuance (though thank you for describing it more charitably LOL) it’s because the only...I won’t say “safe,” because often it’s a good way to get into hot water, but the only meaningful and moral and honest way I know to exist in the world is to lean straight into discomfort and doubts. People talk up curiosity and empathy a lot. But they mostly praise them as character qualities rather than actions, and in action I think both of those things often boil down to a kind of gracious assent to sit still with what makes you uncomfortable. Or to an absolutely mule-headed, scab-picking, bruise-poking desire to understand, even when some small scared lizard brain instinct is screaming at you to snatch your hand back from understanding like it’s a hot stove because if you do understand you’re going to have to reorder the way you think about the world, and maybe the way you think about yourself - and to the small scared lizard brain that can feel like a kind of death. In an abstract sense it is, if you want to get a little melodramatic about it. So much of the way we experience the world is tied up in how we think about it. If you shift those foundations drastically enough, then you’ve survived a tiny metaphysical apocalypse. A world you thought you lived in has ended.

But that’s not really death. That’s actually one of the most cathartic and freeing feelings I know. (Sometimes it’s the bruised catharsis in the aftermath of running a marathon, but nevertheless.) And I guess my point is that I’m grateful to you for being honest enough to sincerely scrutinize what you believe, and grateful to a lot of thoughtful people who keep reminding me by their example to do the same, and I’ll take your thanks as long as you take my insistence that (a) as far as I can tell the only way to stay attuned to nuance is to stay humble about the possibility of getting it wrong, and (b) I fuck that up plenty so I’m not any sort of authority here.

Anyway I apologize for having no chill and I hope you also have a wonderful day.<3

[frostahesmegabite]

DWC Day 1 - Reunion - Daily Writing Challenge Entry - Mega Goes Home

[ This scene takes place after a two year storyline between the FBC Guild that I’m the GM of and a personal storyline between Megahes and his Fiance, Naturasu. During this time, Megahes was cursed by a Cultist to slowly die from an agonizingly painful hex that was slowly killing him and all hope of its curing/removal was stripped away when this Cultist was killed during the conflicts. Ammaelin came to save Megahes (and acquired some ‘favors’ along the way) by using fractured shards of a Naa'ru to force Megahes into becoming Light Forged in a sense. This process took several years thanks to the manipulation of time via magic and while Mega felt the strain of three-four years of work, for everyone else it was roughly eight to ten weeks before his return. ] The Zeppelin ride to Orgrimmar was agonizingly slow, probably more than any other ride Mega had ever had on one before in his entire life. It was enough to drive him mad and the longer it took in combination with the closer it got to taking him home to Naturasu the worse it became. The goblin fidgeted, tugging at his clothes and making sure all the buttons on his shirt were done properly. His sleeves still crisp and the ironed lined still present. Hell, he even fought with the rolled up sleeves and their buttons that kept them pulled up to his biceps. The wait on returning home was killing him. What was Nat going to say when he walked in the door? This reunion between her and him played in his head a thousand times just today alone, he couldn’t even count the amount of times that he played out similar scenarios while he was away. “Nervousness does not become you Mister Frostbite.” The voice was formal and flat, its source coming from a blinding armor clad Blood Elf that stood several feet higher than himself. Crimson red hair blowing in the breeze thanks to their mode of transportation. Ammaelin, the Blood Knight who was responsible for the absence that proved to be a miraculous, and most likely a very heretical, healing process. If one could butter their bread with his smugness, one’d choke on it just from looking at him. “I’m aware, but that doesn’t make it any less. I been gone for three years now.” He quickly brings up a hand to stop the Elf, they’ve had this conversation several times before already. “And I know, I know. Months for her, for everyone else. Years only for You, Me and the others. But still years for me…” “We did what needed to be done, especially in regards to our agreement. You would have surely died otherwise.” Ammaelin’s head turns if but barely, just enough to cast a glance down upon the golden metal that was imprisoned into Mega’s flesh near his wrists. “You are lucky that you had those shards hidden away. Had any other Paladin known you held those, my brother's curse would have been the least of your concerns. I have no doubt the Church or the Draenei would have come marching on your doorstep…” Megahes’ face contorts as draws upon sarcasm to mock the Elf. “I have no doubt…” Mega blows a massive raspberry in the Paladins direction, which causes him to turn and look back upon the horizon, not giving in to Mega’s provocations. “Look. I know how risky tha thing was and I appreciate what you did and I get that I owe ya. But… all’a that aside. I’m just nervous man. What if…” He just stops and breathes, voice quivering a bit as his eyes begin to moisten, forcing him to stop and look back over the side of the Zeppelin once again. “If she doesn’t approve or she’s moved on due to thinking you dead or not coming back?” “I mean, I could have put that in better words, but yeah.” “I think perhaps you worry too much.” Megahes grumbles and sighs, running his hands up and down his face several times before they slide into his hair, where he just grabs hold of himself and pulls out of frustration only to realize he’d fucked it all up. His head shakes and he sets out to fix his hair as best he can, a nervous tick, to be sure. Mega was about to open his mouth to retort, but the Paladin stopped him by pointing to the horizon. Pandaria’s Jade

Forest. Pillars of tall stone began to rise and fall down into gorgeous forests, rolling hillsides and lily and reed filled rivers. The air was crisp and something about it just filled one's body with a rejuvenating sense of purpose and peace. “We’ll be at your domancile shortly, Mister Frostbite. I suggest you gather your things and we’ll drop you off directly.” If Mega wasn’t nervous before this, he sure as hell is now! His nearly trips… Well, he does actually, right over his own two feet and in a fluster, he looks about for something that wasn’t there before he speedily heads towards the cabins to gather his bag. He’d had this ready hours ago. It wasn’t much, he had no time to prepare for this little ‘retreat’ of his, which he was thankful for now as he threw it over his shoulder. He pauses and looks over at Ammaelin. “For as big of a pain in tha ass ya have been these past couple of years, thank ya. Truly. If it wasn’t for you and them Priests, I wouldn’t be makin’ this trip back.” Ammaelins’ face during this brief statement was a rollercoaster! Disdain and irritation appearing quickly was soon replaced with an oddly peaceful smile by the end of it. “Our time has taught us much, Mister Frostbite, about a great many topics. It has been… enlightening.” His choice of words being an intended pun and irony placed upon Mega. There were no hugs, no great exchanges of physical emotion. The two just look at one another before Mega turns and descends into the bowels of the Zeppelin so he can board the loading platform and get lowered down to his home. Their home. Gold, this was excruciating. The platform lowers slowly, painfully so, at least to him. Each inch makes Mega’s ears pound so hard that he can hear them in his ears and if it got any higher in his throat, he’d choke. “I’m gettin all nervous for nothin’, she probably ain’t even home. Probably in Orgrimmar havin’ some drinks or workin’ at the Knot.” He blows through his lips with enough strength to cause a slight whistle. Stress and worry, all self-induced of course, at how this was going to go. He was happy, no doubt, but worry came natural. The lift jerks as the ground makes contact, nearly sending him sprawling down to the floor of it just for him to look up in utter irritation, sending up a solid middle finger at the crew whether they could see it or not. “Ain’t no wonder these things fall out of tha fuckin sky so much…” He grumbles, straightening himself and clambering off before they end up actually managing to kill him somehow. Once off, the Zeppelin began to hoist the platform once more as it turned to head off towards its next stop. Mega’s red eyes watch it drift off for a moment, offering an overhead wave in case Ammaelin was on deck and looking down upon him. Given time, Mega turns away from it, looking at his pandaren styled home. The smell of the Arboretum orchids wafting through the air hit his senses and caused him to smile and for a moment, peace was welcome until he began to pick up his feet, swearing they are encased in lead the closer to home he became. Much like a scene from one of those cheesy romance books he kept hearing people go on about, he freezes at the door, hand up and ready to knock but nothing comes. No, instead he pats himself down and takes the key out of his shirt pocket and uses that instead. Quietly, creeping open the door slowly as if he expected to walk in and find his place full of cobwebs and everything cold and abandoned. The sight he gets is quite the opposite. Everything was nearly just as he left it. Albeit, more golden now. Naturasu loved her gold and it was a miracle that everything they owned wasn’t gold or khorium at this point in some facet or another. The sight brings a small smile to his face, sucking him into the house where he quietly closes the door behind him, fingers tracing over chairs and couch arms before he lets his pack slide down into the floor where it was quickly abandoned. Quietly, he walks through the house, almost scared to break the silence just to realize that that’s all there’d be

but a sudden clattering coming from the kitchen broke what he hadn’t dared. “Oh gold… what is she remodelling in there now?” It was a good question to ask! Not one that he had malice towards however, as the modifications they’d made thus far were phenomenal. His feet take him into the doorway where Nat can be seen in her usual home attire of thigh-high socks and underwear along with a set of tools, some powered and some not, as she was working on some of their retractable steps that allowed the two of them to cook shoulder to shoulder despite their obvious size differences. And it was this image that made him choke in silence and just stare at her. She was still here and all of his fears, irrational or not, just vanished and all he’s left being able to do is croak out a cough and throat clear. Nat’s voice calls out in irritation as the work clearly wasn’t going as planned. “Just leave tha rollers and frames there on the floor Sugah, thanks.” She must have thought he was someone from the Contingents Engineering or Supply Staff. Had this been any other time, Mega probably would have played into this mistake and taken up the chance to pretend to be said person and elicit some lewd scene, but, no, not today… Well, at least not right -now-. “Sorry, I uhh… must have forgotten them back at tha office. I can go back and get them if ya like.” Mega’s voice quivered in a nervousness that refused to leave his bones that were joining with both excitement and happiness. Naturasu on the other hand, froze entirely just to drop the wrench that was in her hand to the floor. Slowly, she wheeled about, perhaps not sure if she heard the voice correctly or if it was just her senses fucking with her. Whatever her reasoning, the moment her copper colored eyes hit Mega’s own crimson hues, time stood still for them both. No words came, they didn’t need them. Naturasu hit her knees and before she could even get her arms outstretched entirely, Mega was across the room, pinning himself to her and locking his own behind her in an embrace so strong that Titan Steel couldn’t have broken it if it tried. The two remained conjoined and just wept. [ Thank you again for reading my entry to the @daily-writing-challenge ! This is Day One (09/19/2021) and today's words were #Reunion and #Afterlife. I had the choice of using one or both, but decided to run with only Reunion today just in case I decide to pull out some deathly stuff later in the month. ] [ Edit Addition: I apologize if there's some formatting issues. I tried to implant a couple of images to help convey things but Tumblr just wasn't having it, so I had to remove them. I've tried to correct the errors I did find, but I may not have gotten them all. ]

[ecrivant]

consign to oblivion | reiner braun

(reiner braun x reader)

home in liberio.  reiner lies awake in rumination, haunted by something you once shared with him.  takes place during the marley arc.

a.n. – an unofficial prelude to tendresse (which you can read here if you want spiritual closure to this piece).  god, this son of a bitch reiner is one sad bastard.    

word count: 1.3k

There was a fissure in the ceiling above him—a spanning interstice through which a seam of light from the room above penetrated the opaque darkness below.  He stared at it nightly.  Watching as it stretched across the room, a fracture worsened by an incessant stress. Looking at it made him sad, deeply so, though he could not say why.  Only cognizant that it was a sorrow that hollowed out his bones and burrowed in the vacancies.  He was uneased by the muffled atmosphere of the room; the comfort of his bed; the sound of rain outside; the aching, cavernous feeling in his person.  He could not sleep, and having conceded to this sleeplessness hours ago, he allowed his mind to drift.

To the last time he saw you. You stood over him, a large, backlit umbra, obscuring his view.  Shiganshina burned around you.  While Jean reasoned with Hange to spare his life, you stayed silent.  Your gaze had been monstrous, vitriolic.  His perfidy changed you.  He deserved anything and all he received.  

He yearned for a kinder memory, but those seemed so distant, so far removed that they were no longer his. An ownership unwillingly rescinded.

To the first time he met you.  Surrounded by innocuous introductions shared between cadets.  Neither of you approached the other, only eventually speaking through process of elimination.  He presented himself first, hand outstretched, voice strong and commanding. An attempt to contrive his persona. You took his hand with a softness he would come to know, to crave, and simply stated his name back to him.  It laid him prostrate before you.  His name on your lips was a word to be venerated, some holy relic made solely to languish after.  He was made so dumb and blind that he had to ask you to repeat your name.  

Your gentle dictum never left his mind, and he never grew tired of it.  Spoken during training, meals, quiet moments, shared.  You breathed his name, and he inhaled it.  Drunk and high on your eponymous utterance.  

His mind drifted, again, settling in a memory he had many times bypassed in his ruminative dazes.  

The day, grey, sunlight mantled by clouds and thick mist.  The Survey Corps headquarters were silent, unnaturally vacant, as he sat alone, as if some cosmic entity granted him a moment of intimate respite.  Privacy and solitude were concepts long foregone since he stepped onto Paradisian land, himself always haunted by Bertoldt or Annie or a fellow cadet, or a nagging and burgeoning sense of self-reproach that seemed more and more permeative the longer he was away from home.  Abortive in his mission yet so unduly devoted—plagued by the guilt of bipartite transgressions.  Had Marco deserved death any more than Marcel?  His head throbbed, schismatic. He missed his home, his mother; he yearned for their caressive auras.  He wished the weight of his berth on Porco, realizing in the same breath that if Porco was in his position, he would not have to shoulder the same burden, as its sole causative factor would be home, safe, angry, in Libero.  

He looked out towards the square and watched as a gust lifted dark silt from the ground, creating a formless cloud of dust that silently floated above the earth, languid, carried by the wind like an enervated companion.  He suddenly wondered why he was born.  Engendered by some sadistic almighty and loosed from the womb only to miscarry his own purpose.  He eluded the thought by turning his attention to the sky above, a billowing nimbus, a swirling, primeval amalgam contained within some celestial tureen, but he could not evade his morbid intellection completely.  What had become of his resolve?  What would Bertoldt and Annie think?  What would Marcel?

“You okay?”

Your voice resounded through him, vibrating his form like a struck bell.  Tearing him from his thoughts—a welcome reprieve.  He nodded.  You took your place beside him.  He thought of the first time you met—he wanted you to say his name.

“Reiner?”  As if you had heard his silent wish.  He turned his head, expectant.

“Why did you join the Survey Corps?”

He was taken aback, sure the two of you had discussed each other’s rationality many times over.  He let out a contemplative sound to acknowledge your question.

“To save humanity. For my family.  My home.”  His accustomed answer.  One of which he himself needed convincing but had to tell, for the desire to be a hero was wholly unheroic—he thought bitterly on the irony.  

Silent for a moment too long, he asked you the same.  

“I want to see to humanity’s liberation.”  

Your sincerity was smarting on his skin.  To be in the presence of one truly selfless, it made him uneasy.  He smiled, obfuscating his discontent, and nodded his head, wordlessly voicing approval.  

Neither spoke after this, opting instead to watch the rolling sky.  He hoped for rain, and the sound of distant thunder seemed to answer him.  The upcoming expedition would take him outside the walls—one of the first times since Maria, he realized.  He thought of Marcel and wanted to disintegrate.  

“I don’t want to be forgotten, actually.”  You voice, a sudden, quiet orison, spoken to no one.  He silently waited for you to continue, recognizing the beginning of confession.  

“I’m not brave or selfless. I do this with the hope someone will remember me after I die.  Maybe it’ll be future generations studying the heroes of the Survey Corps.  Or maybe just the people I’ve loved, or the ones I’ve saved.  I don’t know. For my own name and soul to die along with my body—that’s my greatest fear.”

You breathed deeply, shoulders dropping.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m not sure why I told you that.”

Turning to face him.

“Please don’t think less of me.”  

Reiner desperately wanted to tell you.  Tell you he was nothing but a scared child, one who destroyed lives in a desperate pursuit of heroism.  Driven by selfishness, blindsided by pride.  

Instead, he comforted you—grabbed your hand and caressed it in silence.  You were surprised when he cried.

He had felt so close to you.

They were presently planning to return to Paradis.  Reiner had fully endorsed it, vengeful.  Driven by a yearning.  For Eldian posterity, he told himself, never having given up the practice of convincing himself of things he did not believe.  In the pitch solitude of his room, he reluctantly acknowledged that he was driven by some masochistic desire to see you again.  To repent for his transgressions and lay, prostrate, at the feet of his lover, begging for forgiveness—he could not think of a better path to self-vindication.  

Your fear of being forgotten—so human and base and true.  He thought to be forever loathed by you was preferable to that terrifying alternative.  He would rather be an ever-present scar, a painful remembrance, than a hazy moment of adversity cataracted by your mind’s eye.  What a selfish thought.  Given the choice, he would never desire to be an agent of your anguish, but it was a duty by his own hand bequeathed to him from the moment he was a child.  A chain of events propagated by naïve ambition.  Now cursed to perpetually remediate mistakes for which only he was to blame.  He had long ago reconciled with the idea that only through death would he be loosed from this hellish continuum, but could he not wish for one more moment with you before his deathly liberation?  Perhaps it was too much to ask.

He looked at the ceiling, the split in the wood.  How much longer before it all collapsed?

—

hi, me again!  i hope you enjoyed my stupid little piece.  feedback and all that jazz is always appreciated. also, i swear to christ the next reiner piece i write will be so cleansing and happy and sappy and romantic… he needs a goddamn break.  

hey also!  if ya fuck with my writing, drop a line and I can add ya to this taglist.  xoxo

taglist: @flam3bird

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Watching Merlin The Death Song of Uther Pendragon once again, and feeling more and more justified in my analysis of the episode, available here.

Above, we see Merlin’s expression go hard when Arthur mentions Uther’s disapproval of his decisions. He says, “You mean, your kingdom.” When Arthur shrugs at this fact, Merlin’s expression turns even more stony:

As I explained in my analysis of 5x03, this episode demonstrates that Merlin is the only real family that Arthur has. Upon rewatching the scene where Arthur sits morosely during his birthday celebrations, and rereading my post, I was struck by the inescapable conclusion that despite everything, Arthur is lonely. 

Why? Because he has no family. For the first time, I also added his lack of children to the reasons for his loneliness. I suppose this was obvious from the episode, but only through rewatching several episodes have I learned that BBC Merlin’s central theme is not magic, but friendship and family. 

Arthur Pendragon is actually one of the most tragic characters on the show. Setting aside the irony of his future being marred by destiny, I also thought about how long it had taken Merlin chiefly to build up his self-belief. Yet with just a few words, Uther could ruin that same self-belief, even if Arthur knew Uther was wrong. 

This is what angers Merlin: the fact that Uther still has the power to destroy his son’s confidence. As I said beforehand, Merlin’s deepest problem with Uther is that he doesn’t deserve to be Arthur’s father. 

However, I now have something to add. Whereas before, I thought that Arthur had subconsciously adopted Merlin as a brother, perhaps sometime between late Season 4 and early Season 5, I did not realise that Merlin would have done the same. 

After all, Merlin had watched the devastating impact that family betrayal had caused to Arthur. So I am now thinking that this motivates Merlin’s deeper sense of defensiveness and protectiveness over the King. This isn’t just about destiny.

Otherwise, Arthur would be totally alone. 

Remember: Arthur has no mother. In 4x12, Merlin allows the fugitive King to stay at his mother’s house, and we now see the once proud Arthur eating Hunith’s food. Arthur has no father. But in 4x07, Gaius speaks of taking care of Arthur since boyhood. Most importantly, Arthur has no siblings. Merlin steps into this role himself, and not just by vowing to protect the King, which his Knights also do. 

I think the most important thing that Merlin does is to behave like Arthur’s family ought to have behaved. It seems to me that he challenges himself to prove that he can show himself better than Uther, Morgana, and Agravaine. Those 3 in particular. All blood members of Arthur’s family, all traitors in some way, and all people whose mind control Merlin wishes to undo. 

Another point is Merlin’s own family situation. Though I would like to think that he kept in contact with Hunith more frequently than was shown, the truth is that he lives a totally separate life. The mother admits as much in 4x12, though she tellingly refers to Ealdor as “home” for Merlin, rather than Camelot. 

On top of this, Merlin has no siblings. We know that, despite friends like Will, the time he spent before arriving in Camelot was incredibly lonely, as he told Gaius. I do not know whether Merlin initially wanted siblings, but he certainly wanted a family, which is why he clung to the hope of reuniting Balinor with Hunith in Ealdor. Could he have dreamt of a different life, where he had siblings? 

I don’t know. However, even though Merlin shared the pain of losing his father with Gwaine, I think he has the stronger connection with Arthur on this topic. I base this on 5x03 and 5x04, where Arthur twice appeals to Merlin’s fatherlessness in a bid for support. In those cases, he effectively says that they understand the same loss, because they are alike. This is particularly true when, in 5x04, Merlin admits that if someone had murdered his father, he too would have sought vengeance. 

And we know that Merlin hates vengeance. In that moment, Merlin reveals that he is more like Arthur than perhaps he even knows. 

Fascinating stuff! 

PS-- I also finished watching 5x01 and 5x02 again, which make me more and more at peace with the Sir Mordred storyline and Arthur’s eventual death. Indeed, it is Merlin’s dogged insistence that Arthur should not die which is unrealistic. On top of that, I am now convinced the idea of a Golden Age was a false goal. I never really hear this vision being fleshed out, because it is an ideal. Merlin’s great undoing was his idealism, and when he failed to reach those heights, he became jaded. Had he appreciated what he had in real life, perhaps he would not have been so quick to submit himself to prophecies, fate, and paranoia. 

[dahlia-coccinea]

I reread Patsy Stoneman’s essay, “Catherine Earnshaw's Journey to Her Home among the Dead: Fresh Thoughts on Wuthering Heights and 'Epipsychidion,” and my feelings towards it pretty similar to how I feel about J. Hillis Miller’s essays. I enjoyed reading it but I don’t agree with 85% of it. I haven’t reread any of Miller’s takes (since there are a plethora of metaphysical interpretations it would be so repetitive) and that probably allows for me to still appreciate his essays as much as I do...I think rereading Stoneman’s essay was a bad idea because reading it a second time made it much less enjoyable and I read it much more critically.

There are a lot of similarities between the metaphysical and Romantic love narratives, and they also share a lot of the same failings. They tend to be very selective about what scenes are analyzed and they aren’t put into a larger context, and they tend to be the most poetic scenes. Typically these arguments cannot place the meaning of the 2nd generation into the context of the novel either. I’ve already said quite a bit about the metaphysical arguments, so I’m going to try and discuss just the points in this specific essay. Sorry parts may be a little repetitive because critics often bring up the same quotes and ideas again and again. And this will be very long.

First, Stoneman identifies that there are two popular theories about Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship: “One is the myth of star-crossed lovers, who are cheated of marriage by social forces,” and then the metaphysical argument which, “presents Catherine and Heathcliff’s love as of a kind which is in itself incapable of social consummation.” She then volunteers a third option that is based on concepts of free love and/or “twin love” that can found in Romantic literature.

It is interesting, but I’m pretty sure Catherine also thinks she betrayed her own heart? She does tell Nelly she knows in her heart and soul she shouldn’t marry Edgar, and on her deathbed, she says “If I’ve done wrong, I’m dying for it.” I know some take it to mean she thinks that she didn’t do what was wrong to her, but she does add “You left me too” so I think she does agree with Heathcliff that she, in a way, left him. 

There is ample room in the novel to compare Heathcliff and Edgar as there are few similarities between them. The society in which they live is violent and hierarchical and that never seems to be questioned by any character - I think that is an important backdrop and allows for commentary on class, race, and gender. I don’t think this particularly has to do with how we view exclusive relationships. And based on the reasons Catherine gives for why she would marry one and not the other, I think Catherine understands she is limited by this society. Her reasons for marrying Edgar are all very practical.

Instead of any fulfillment, from the start, Nelly says Catherine struggled and had an “objection to her two friends meeting at all.” Catherine is aware they dislike each other from the start and this makes things more difficult for her as Hindley wants her to marry Edgar, Heathcliff is more and more remote, and the two of them are stuck suffering Hindley’s cruelty. Nelly even says during this time, “I’ve had many a laugh at her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide from my mockery.” If what Stoneman says is true she would have to be beyond naive, if not utterly foolish, to think that a relationship with both Edgar and Heathcliff would be desirable for spiritual fulfillment after Heathcliff’s treatment at the Grange, or his throwing applesauce on Edgar (which this scene brings her to tears and she blames Edgar for Heathcliff’s resulting punishment). 

Stoneman does attempt to reconcile the Catherine confiding in Nelly that she knows in her heart and soul she is wrong to accept Linton’s proposal - she says this statement is negated by her insistence of never being parted from Heathcliff and that therefore means her love for him must simply be different and Romantic, rather than romantic/marriage-oriented. I’ve written a lot about this already but so I’ll just say that is pretty selective of the whole conversation with Nelly. 

Stoneman says, that from this scene and how we see Catherine greet Heathcliff this shows, “No sense of tragic irony seems to enter into her consciousness, nor any foreboding of difficulties.”? Seems to be a bit of an overstatement when you consider that Edgar’s proposal brings Catherine to tears because she feels she isn’t meant to be with him. She doesn’t excitedly tell Nelly that she loves them both, and she doesn’t seem very optimistic when she says Edgar, “must shake off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least.” While idealistic in thinking Edgar would help Heathcliff she is still pragmatic in understanding how few options she has. She fears Heathcliff listening to this conversation and will be hurt by this, or him finding out how much she loves him. Is her "delirious” joy upon Heathcliff’s return really a sign of her lack of conformity and utter loss at understanding their jealously? Or is it more likely because she thought he might be dead for those three years? She also tirelessly spends the next 3 months balancing Heathcliff’s dislike of Edgar (which I believe also spurs her to continue concealing her feelings towards him), Edgar’s jealously, and a new fun problem: Isabella’s infatuation with Heathcliff. 

I won’t go into too much detail in this because it’s so similar to the metaphysical argument, but Stoneman notes that in Shelley’s ‘Epipsychidion’ there isn’t just the concept of free love but of “twin love” between 2 of the 3 person triangle, so it assumes that Catherine/Heathcliff could more platonic or at least asexual. 

In this interpretation Catherine “revises the traditional masculinity” of the “Romantic lover:” 

“Shelly’s experiment depended on women’s readiness to be generous and co-operative, and Catherine’s similar plan founders on the combative notion of masculinity endorsed by our culture. Attempting to ‘divide’ her love between men who seem to her too different to be rivals, she finds them transformed into the ‘chained friend’ and ‘jealous foe’ of convention.”

I don’t agree with the idea that Catherine sees them as too different to be rivals? She does compare them which casts them as two men vying for the position of her husband. Also, she based her decision to marry one and not the other on socioeconomic advantage, not who she loves more, or how they differ as people and might give her different kinds of love, although she points out her changing/more superficial and limited love for Edgar compared to the love she has for Heathcliff which are like the “eternal rocks beneath.”

Her love for Edgar is full of stipulations - she would “only pity him—hate him, perhaps, if he were ugly, and a clown.” Heathcliff’s degraded state does nothing to change her love, which is why I say her love for them is unequal. I honestly think saying she loves them equally yet differently, or that she is totally unaware of their jealousies is so preposterous based on the text, I don’t understand how so many critics, that have written extensively on the book all parrot it? Yet Stoneman continues to assert Catherine is “innocent” and “baffled” by their jealously. With almost everything she says about Catherine I find myself thinking, “well yes, but no?” For example, with this idea: 

“Catherine’s apparent self-destruction has to be seen, not as willful egotism, but as a despairing response to her two lovers’ failure to love her enough to share her attention”

I do think this is mostly true. It is not willful egotism, and she is upset that they can’t tolerate each other - but Catherine’s illness is a long-running problem that is closely associated with her relationship with Heathcliff and his absence that began after he first runs away. Through the next three years, she says she “endured very, very bitter misery.” I’d say it has nothing to do with her feelings towards Edgar who she has been making herself distant during this whole time while telling Heathcliff (in spirit since he isn’t actually in the room): “If I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I’ll keep you.”

Again I do somewhat agree with Stoneman’s interpretation of Catherine telling Heathcliff, “you and Edgar have broken my heart,” which Stoneman says, “can only be explained if we accept that while Catherine still relates to both her lovers, Edgar and Heathcliff have broken her heart by defining love as exclusive.” I think they do break her heart by their selfishness over her, and I think she never intends to hurt either of them. She has at different times suffered to protect one or the other. But this still doesn’t change her stronger, unconditional, yet socially unacceptable and thwarted love for Heathcliff. Her issue isn’t the loss of Edgar, they broke her heart by both behaving in a way that cast Heathcliff from her company. Divorce was not really an option for her - the most dysfunctional couple in the novel, Heathcliff and Isabella, never legally separate even. So why wouldn’t she try to keep the peace between them to be near Heathcliff? The Romantic love interpretation is difficult to reconcile with her rejection of Edgar which happens on a few occasions and most apparent when she tells him, “What you touch at present you may have; but my soul will be on that hill top before you lay hands on me again. I don’t want you, Edgar: I’m past wanting you. Return to your books. I’m glad you possess a consolation, for all you had in me is gone.” 

As the essay went on I felt it got weaker. Stoneman says Catherine’s haunting of Heathcliff must be read as an “appeal against his failures of generosity.” Not because she wishes she was never parted from him, as Catherine herself said? Catherine doesn’t seem to die with any animosity towards Heathcliff - she forgives him for leaving her, asks for forgiveness, and tells him, “You never harmed me in your life.” 

**** EDIT *** I just meant that he goal isn’t to punish Heathcliff, since before her death she makes it clear she doesn’t want to parted from him. I do prefer the theory that she she haunts him in part to call him off his revenge and harming those she loves and to bring him back to her. I don’t think her ghost is static or simply a “reward” for Heathcliff despite all the wrong he did. I think she does become “incomparably above and beyond” them all and remains a force as she was in her life. Or she could be not a ghost at all and he encounters with could be proof of Heathcliff’s madness and later becomes a simple old folktale and superstition. (I’ll admit I like to view the ghosts are real and I think there number of references to them by other characters do suggest that we are meant to read them that way). ***

After Catherine’s death, Stoneman says, “There is, after all, something in the haunting which the usual readings of the novel fail to explain. If the ghost of Catherine wails to be let in, and Heathcliff begs her to return, what is it that keeps them apart?” I think we’d have to all agree that what Lockwood saw was actually a ghost, and I have seen this interpreted a million times? Stoneman says it is Heathcliff’s own “implacable obsession with revenge, which effectively shuts her out of his consciousness.” Which I could agree if we are reading it assuming the ghosts are real...but then she says that Heathcliff reaches his heaven only as he abandons his revenge against Edgar and “at last he ‘comprehends in his person’ the preposterous simultaneity of her loves.” This made no sense to me. I don’t see any reason for thinking he begins to accept Catherine’s love for Edgar, which he kind of already had? He tells Nelly that he doesn’t physically hurt him for that reason, he just also believes she loves him more. And I would say he does defeat Edgar and Hindley? Just because he can’t also destroy Hareton and Cathy II doesn’t negate that in his lifetime he outlives his enemies and has control of everything and everyone at Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange (which he never shows signs of regretting his actions). It might not have gone as far as he originally planned, but I would say he does sort of win. And his abandonment of revenge isn’t ever associated with Edgar? Heathcliff does give some insight to what causes him to lose interest in his plot, an aspect of it being the connection to Hareton. In a discussion between him and Nelly he tells her she may think he’s insane “if I try to describe the thousand forms of past associations and ideas he (Hareton) awakens or embodies.” It is because of this intense association with him that he says, “his society is no benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer: and it partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin go on together. I can give them no attention any more.” I believe the last time Heathcliff mentions Edgar is right after his death and he tells Nelly that, “I wish he’d been soldered in lead,” and goes on to describe yet another plot against Edgar by having his and Catherine’s graves opened on the side nearest each other so that they don’t have any barriers between them and then, "by the time Linton gets to us he’ll not know which is which!” So the idea he softens towards Edgar or becomes more willing to share Catherine in any way is...improbable to me. 

The theory also suffers (like so many others), in ignoring the ending when forming the narrative. Stoneman mentions the three graves and says that the people seeing Heathcliff and Catherine’s ghosts are basically country folk who are inclined to sympathize with “Heathcliff's final possession of his 'woman’” and also most readers fall into these same “hegemonic constructions” by not considering that the "the sleepers in that quiet earth” are at peace together. I agree with @princesssarisa that it doesn’t quite fit into the fact that many of the people that see the ghosts didn’t support or even know of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship - the young shepherd boy doesn’t seem to know who Catherine even is. To also say that the reader is projecting their desired ending doesn’t feel right because the ending is something that Heathcliff and Catherine have been foreshadowing through the whole book. Catherine says, “I’ll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won’t rest till you are with me. I never will!” She doesn’t refer to Edgar, who she says can be buried anywhere, it doesn’t matter to her (poor Edgar). She also tells Heathcliff, “I shall not be at peace,” and “I only wish us never to be parted,” as well as other similar quotes implying that she will be waiting for Heathcliff to come to her. I don’t like the view that Catherine is so lacking agency in her relationship with Heathcliff either - I’ve never thought that he “possesses” her. She’s the one who makes the demand that he leave the world behind and join her - the end does seem to be him finally following her, as she says he always does. 

And then, what of Cathy and Hareton? How do we reconcile the narrative with the features of the second generation? It would seem, if we assume Catherine has a differing yet equal love of the two men, and wished for a relationship where they can be peaceful together, and then the only scene we have of them together is in their graves, it feels pessimistic. Our one Shelleyan model is dead and buried with two people incapable of overcoming their jealousies and possessiveness. When considering the ending with Hareton and Cathy, would we have to conclude this a cautionary tale of Catherine’s naivety? Stoneman does make almost this suggestion and says it could also be because Emily had watched Branwell and Charlotte get hurt by love married people, so it could be showing what tragedy befalls if love is selfish and possessive. Though there is nothing to suggest that Hareton and Cathy love isn’t any of those things? 

I must be terribly boring because I think the easiest way of describing Catherine and Heathcliff is that they are, “star-crossed lovers, who are cheated of marriage by social forces.” Obviously, that is simplistic and glosses over their more spiritual aspects and certainly, they are not how the 1939 film interpreted them, which Stoneman rightly says, “recasts the novel in class terms as 'the story of the stable-boy and the lady’” - but I still think its closer than saying they are models of Freudian psychology, siblings, celestial beings, or Shelleyan. There certainly is spirituality and complexities in their love, and throughout the plot, as well as other characters, but it is still very much possible to read too deeply into double meanings and what is left unsaid.

My end take - some lyricism of Epipsychidion is echoed in quotations from Catherine and I would have much preferred to compare and contrast the two works rather than the attempt to shoehorn the rest of the story into a similar narrative. I think if you made a comparison to just the part after Heathcliff returns, a really interesting and strong argument could be made about how Catherine does try to create a similar relationship as described in Shelley’s work. I don’t think the situation was ever her ideal, but she certainly has no desire to be cunning or vampish - that’s not in her nature, and her relationship with Heathcliff doesn’t necessitate them having sex. She does try to put into practice a semi-Romantic love triangle but I don’t think she harbors any delusions of Edgar’s and Heathcliff’s animosity. Rather than a bohemian approach, it is her forcefulness and controlling that keep them both at bay. Tellingly she tells Nelly, “I believe I might kill him (Edgar), and he wouldn’t wish to retaliate.” She feels confident in her sway over him to get what she wants and she wants to be able to continue her relationship with Heathcliff in any way she can. It’s not necessary to revise and add new narratives to situations in the novel that are clearly able to be discerned from the text - such as Heathcliff’s failing desire for revenge or people seeing their ghosts at the end. I don’t think Epipsychidion is a terribly good lens to read Catherine through as her love can also be jealous, selfish, and possessive. There are too many aspects of Catherine’s character that conflict with the ideas Epipsychidion expresses.

[itskyleeyo]

hadestown brain dump (songs)

SPOILERS FOR HADESTOWN/THE STORY OF ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

ok so it may have been more than a few days, but what're you gonna do about it?

so i wanted to do another brain dump, and i wanted to listen to hadestown, so i'm doing a song by song brain dump as i go along. this means that my thoughts are going to be even more stream-of-consciousness style (if that's even possible.) also i'm talking specifically about the original broadway cast recording bc i haven't listened to any other version. (also this was completed across multiple months so it is even more chaotic lmao).

also i highly recommend that you listen to the musical and/or pull up the lyrics as you go along! enjoy!

road to hell. the way andre brings in the chorus is flawless please. also the way that hermes is both a narrator and a character in the story he's narrating? beautiful. "the king of the mine." he sounds so nice here for some reason. also love his self-introduction "maybe it will turn out this time" no it won't but thank you for trying. also breaking the fourth wall to acknowledge the chorus and crew is so nice, here comes reeve ;) mans sounds like an angel. you can hear amber's voice stick out of the chorus and i literally love it so much. i'd die for amber gray but we'll get to that later.

any way the wind blows. the fates literally sound so perfect together. Eva's intro throws me off every time, she sounds so pretty. dear god the harmonies with the fates hit so different. can this cast please narrate my life? there's the wind comparisons ;D the "ooos" are so good. "and it ain't because i'm kind" idk i just like how andre sounds here. oh and the funny behind "so i took him underneath my wing" because hermes has wings on his helmet and shoes.

come home with me. orpheus is so oblivious but i love it. also eurydice is literally such a mood. the wordplay with "come again". the "oh, he's crazy" is my favorite part of the whole song. also eva's voice acting is so good.

wedding song. the way she says "lover"? my ass cannot handle this. eva sounds so smug in the beginning of this song and i love it. "sing the song ;)" eurydice is so fantastic. the chorus of "la" is so pretty. eva joining in during the end is just. so perfect.

epic i. hell yeah introduce the king and queen (both literally and figuratively). reeve's falsetto <3 the way orpheus looks to hermes for approval throughout the musical. hermes narrating over orpheus singing.

livin' it up on top. HELL YES THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED. i love amber gray so much. the gravel and the rasp. please step on me. also i love the idea of persephone being the wine aunt, especially because media usually portrays her as soft and breakable. the way she says "haaard". the way the music gets more upbeat and energetic when hermes says "the world came back to liiife!" the instrumental/dance? break is so good. please kill me with that trumpet good sir. the leadup to when amber starts singing again. orpheus really knows how to give a speech. "i will ;)" amber please step on me i am not joking.

all i've ever known (intro). thank you for the intro king. the music is so pretty. the way it picks up with the piano part <3

all i've ever known. eva sounds so pretty dear god. yay more wind references! the wordplay with "hold". and also the references to hot and cold throughout the musical. "i don't wanna ever have to let you go." lol ironic because she ends up going with hades. "i knew you before we met, and i don't even know you yet." the fucking wordplay. like holy shit. the "love at first sight" feelings. this line gets me every damn time. the wordplay from 2:10 - 2:38 is so fucking incredible. i lose it every time istg. the instrumental portion is so pretty. the wind! "we'll always be like this" i fucking love irony so much. its so underrated and adds so many layers to the story.

way down hadestown. amber gray. that's it. "you either get to hell or to hadestown, ain't no difference anymore". i fucking love this line so much. not really sure why but the delivery is perfect. also the whole thing with it being a train? i love that so much. all the allusions and comparisons they can make are fantastic. more amber gray appreciation. and ofc. the fates. more fantastic instrumental breaks. "and you better forget about your wishing well." this line is so good but so sad because its literally persephone saying that "hey, fair warning, life is shit down there" and i feel bad for her. like the way she's super sassy and shit, but just stops singing when hades gets there, you can tell that she's definitely not ok. speaking of hades, holy shit patrick page. sounds so fucking fantastic. thank you for existing good sir. eva with the breathtaking single lines. and eva's voice standing out when she sings "ground".

a gathering storm. the constant references to weather and nature throughout the whole musical. eurydice with the common sense. the wind again! "did you hear me, orpheus?" he did not, in fact, hear her.

epic ii. the different names for hades in each epic make me so happy. hades thoughts: "i think my wife might not come back cause i'm super controlling. whatever shall i do? oh, i know! be even more controlling!" lmao dumbass motherfucker. that might not work out so well. i fucking love the transition into "chant" so much.

chant. this is one of my favorite songs from the musical. the wordplay within the entire song is so fucking fantastic. hades singing about desire and then orpheus singing the "song of love" was definitely done on purpose and i'm living for it. every single one of eva's lines make me emotional. ma'am why are you good at everything?? the band! more weather references! patrick page singing "lover" hits different. orpheus singing about hades and persephone being blind and deaf. lmao irony because he's not paying attention to anything around him. the wind! weather! "the song of love" is what brought orpheus and eurydice together, but orpheus' devotion to finishing it is what drives eurydice to hades. "did you think i'd be impressed" i was right ;) it didn't work out so well.

hey, little songbird. the strings <3 patrick page is a god (lol i'm so funny). how does he manage to make manipulation sound so good? bird references! the vocal contrast! eva's voice has this kind of "innocence" to it. especially compared to patrick. not sure if that's on purpose or not, but i love it. also the low note kills me every time. the octave jumps between patrick and eva's voices is just. ugh. and also eva's entire second verse is so fucking good. the emotion she portrays in her voice is so spectacular. seriously hades with the manipulation is so interesting and its so good. (manipulation is not a good thing i just mean that its done so well in the show. do not manipulate people!)

when the chips are down (intro). "your ticket ;)" yes pls sir i'll take a ticket cause life sucks ass.

when the chips are down. i fucking love the fates dear god. gambling references! eva has literally one line and still owns my heart. the band! "shoot to kill" sounds so good like i love it so much pls. also this fucking line "cast your eyes to heaven, you get a knife in the back" is so good. i'm gonna have to get into quite a few lines throughout the musical in a different brain dump because i have so much thought.

gone, i'm gone. darling eurydice. its not your fault that you're starving stop apologizing. "talk of sin" lol she do be going to hell. that's funny. the harmonies.

wait for me (intro). the piano. heremes trying to change the subject hurts my heart. and orpheus' reaction is so sad please. "no.." just rip my fucking heart out, why don't you?

wait for me. the transition. andre coming in clutch with the narration. reeve sounds wonderful, as always. the fucking fates. just kill me already. they literally sound so good. the strings' build up between the "la"s. the chorus. the buildup at the end.

why we build the wall. the total 180 in the vibes. call and response has a special pace in my heart. mr page killing it again. god, hades is such a piece of shit and its perfect. he really is a master manipulator. fuck capitalism. the chorus sounds so good. i want to platonically smooch all of them. jesus fucking christ burn capitalism to the ground. the end is amazing. also the not-so-subtle references to slavery/forced labor.

why we build the wall (outro). i'd die for andre. "anybody want a drink?" yes ma'am. yes please. (don't drink, kids) i love you so much.

our lady of the underground. its so jazzy! jesus fucking christ. oh my fucking god. i would literally sell my soul for amber gray. what did we ever do to deserve her? god the raspiness fucking kills me. also love that she breaks the fourth wall to acknowledge the band. when she comes back in after the instrumental break? consider me dead. "what the boss don't know, the boss won't mind" she sounds so good here. also i love that she straight up doesn't give a fuck about hades here.

way down hadestown (reprise). hell yeah i love reprises. the fates. andre. the chorus. i love them all. i'm such a whore for reoccurring lyrics. the strings! fuck capitalism! eva's emotions are just so fucking good. "you've already forgot?" holy shit. this shit hurted. the "ahh ooh"s are so good.

flowers. the intro <3. eva sounds so pretty. the fucking symbolism in this song is incredible. i'm gonna get into this in another brain dump bc it's a very sensitive topic. the fact that she can't actually fully remember orpheus makes me so sad. so pretty <3

come home with me (reprise). hell yeah another reprise. the way the music is much more upbeat when orpheus shows up. their excitement! eva's vocal emotions are literally so fantastic pls.

papers (intro). "young mannn" kill me patrick. train references! hell yeah persephone. the way andre gets louder when he says "raised up his voice." eva <3. reeve just always sounds so pretty. ohmygod the laugh. kill me good sir. mans straight up admits to owning people and is like "it's cool tho cause they signed a piece of paper. def not taking advantage of people that are literally starving or anything. it's fine." fuck you hades. go step on a fucking lego. orpheus is so sad :(

papers (instrumental). yes. sounds so good. i'm imagining an epic chase scene. the transition into nothing changes <3

nothing changes. respectfully? the fates could kill me any day and i'd thank them. the weather reference! that "anyhow" is so fucking good istg.

if it's true. another one of my favorites. pop off intro. the broken "is this how the world is?" sadly, yes. "but everybody knows that walls have ears." is literally such a powerful line to me for some reason. it does a great job of bringing in the chorus. and by calling the workers "walls" it shows that hades views them as "less than." they aren't even referred to as people. "what's the use of his backbone if he never stands upright." oh my god. because they literally cannot stand upright. anais mitchell is literally a fucking genius. fuck the 1%. gambling references! the chorus backing him is just so pretty. the way orpheus looks to the chorus for advice and support. "we're standing." ugh its so good.

how long. oh my fucking god. amber fucking gray. (that's it, that's the post). the way she sounds resigned/disappointed when she says "i've had enough" makes me so sad. there are no words to describe how i feel about 0:25 - 0:41. like their relationship is strained, and super mega fucked up, but it's obvious that they still care about one another. the emotion in their voices throughout this song is fantastic. the play on light and dark. also more bird references! how they view themselves/their self importance. hades is a most importantly king. persephone is most importantly a wife. it really show that hades views power as more important than anything else. "nothing comes of the songs people sing." holy fucking shit. cause their song is the "song of love," but they can barely stand each other and their relationship has fallen apart. persephone commenting on his love of power over his love of her. amber's voice during "the earth must die" is so nice and for what? god i love her. they sound so nice together <3

chant (reprise). another favorite hehe. the strings! it's all just so pretty. when the piano comes in i die a little. the self realization coming from the chorus when they're like "oh shit, this is wrong. i don't deserve to be treated like this." is so fucking fantastic. the "young mannn" again! hades really be like "manipulate her! make her depend on you financially! i've been ding this a while kid! i know how to successfully control women!" reeve sounds so pretty pls. the way that eurydice has basically become part of the chorus (since she's just another worker now). more self realization! the different ways that hades and orpheus view the "song of love." "sing before i kill you so i can use it to manipulate my wife and make her feel like shit." patrick's voice tho.

epic iii. reeve coming in with that falsetto like nobody's business. orpheus really about to bite you in the ass with your own damn song. amber gray <3. the "ooo"s in the background. the way the music picks up when reeve gets to the "la"s. it's just so fucking good. that falsetto again. orpheus really looked at the king of hell, a literal god, and said "i want to ruin him psychologically" and it fucking worked. which is some of my favorite irony because hades wouldn't have shit if it weren't for that fact that he's a good manipulator and takes advantage of the needy. that last line <3

epic iii (instrumental). i have no words for how fucking beautiful this is. i so desperately want an extended version. like for real love this so much. if i get married, i want this to be the song for the first dance.

promises. eurydice is so proud of him for finishing. the way that eurydice realized that she cares about him more that material objects. wind and weather references! "if we can do it so can they!" she sounds so excited. :( "hand-in-hand" lol nope. not them refencing wedding song, anyway the wind blows, and then giving their "i do"s. absolutely heart wrenching.

word to the wise. the fates. pls step on me ladies. the lyrics throughout this are so fucking good. lol hades being damned. cause he's the king of hell. honestly its solid advice tho. humans are really fucking stupid.

his kiss, the riot. give us them adjectives king. " how dare people want rights! >:(" hades is really trying to make himself the good guy rn. the music! 2:15 - 3:03 is so good pls. the lyrics are just so spectacular.

wait for me (reprise) (intro). hello again andre! hermes literally says "he's trying to psych you out and manipulate you. he wants you to doubt everything" and orpheus says "are you sure tho?" and then procedes to doubt everything. the way the music changes is <3. the song transition.

wait for me (reprise). my absolute fucking favorite song in this musical. the first fucking lyric is so good. it really sets an expectation for the song and i am not disappointed. lyrics that talk about how fucked up any single person's brain is are so fucking cool to me. god i love this song. how soft the first set of "wait for me"s are. the support/pressure from the chorus. the entire exchange between hades and persephone. the way amber's voice sticks out of the chorus. the fates coming in clutch again. train references! more brain talk! amber gray please end me. eva sounds so pretty. and the final note is so good!

doubt comes in. the long intro that builds up suspense. the first time that orpheus's "la"s aren't echoed by the chorus/music. wind! weather! the fates sound so pretty like always. reeve genuinely sounds so scared. the way the music picks up and the chorus joins in when eurydice starts singing. the music is so unsettling and i love it. god i love his voice. 3:44 - 3:57 always hits so different. you realize just how much she means to him. how it all goes to shit when the music reaches the climax. the fact that the music clashes on purpose. the sadness in their voices.

road to hell (reprise). it all comes full circle. god andre sounds so sad. the way you come to really hear the lyrics because there's no upbeat music to distract you this time, "its a tragedy" lol because the actual written story is a tragedy. "i learned that from a friend of mine" poor orpheus :(. the way the chorus slowly joins in and the music slowly picks up. the "can you feel it" is literally so fucking powerful. fuck yes amber. fuck it up queen. amber and eva sound so nice together. the "its a love song, its a sad song" is so sad. the final lyric is just. ugh.

we raise our cups. yes pls amber. this song is so pretty. good night queen.

[im-fairly-whitty]

The Witcher Wolf

M/M. Teen and Up Audiences. Geralt/Jaskier.  

It’s been two weeks since Geralt shouted Jaskier away from him on that mountain and Jaskier has been handling it like a champ by forlornly wandering alone in the wilderness with his lute. When he (literally) stumbles across an injured white wolf he decides to take a chance and see if he can help it, appreciating the irony of the situation but not quite realizing why it is that the wolf’s golden eyes look exactly like his Witcher’s...

Inspired by @kayivy​ 's lovely art! <3

------

“So tell me love, tell me love...wait...”

Jaskier adjusted his fingering on the lute, pitching it an octave higher and trying again.

“So tell me love, tell me love, how is that ju-" he shifted a finger. “how is that-" another shift. “how is that just.”

There, that was it.

Jaskier smiled dryly to himself as he slung the lute on its strap to rest against his back, leaving his hands free to dig his notebook out of his pocket as he walked down the long long empty road. He sighed as he scratched a note with his stub of a pencil and tucked the notebook back into his pocket, looking around at the looming trees and scrubby brush surrounding him.

The shadows were growing dusky and long, signaling that he probably should have found somewhere to curl up for the night an hour ago, not now when he’d be scrambling to see in the last of daylight as he made camp. But it couldn’t really be helped now could it?

He could practically hear Geralt chastising him for being thoughtless again, especially when traveling alone.

Jaskier went several steps out of his way to stomp his foot through a suitable stick with a satisfying crack. Because it didn’t really matter what Geralt probably thought, did it?

Finally being chased off by Geralt two weeks ago was plenty painful enough to try and avoid thinking about on its own. Jaskier did not need the stupid Witcher getting after him even in his own mind after he’d been cast off like a rock out of a boot.

Jaskier paused, angrily chewing his lip as he gazed into the middle distance. He fished out his notebook again, scrawled cast off like a rock from your shoe and then stashed it away again.

He might be hurting terribly and handling it badly, but he was also a professional. Waste not want not and all that. If he was going to have to pull himself back together after being utterly rejected by the best friend he’d been following for literal decades, having finally been forced to realize that said best friend truly hated him, then he was at least going to get some decent song material from it.

And yes it was out of spite. And righteous anger. Definitely not heartbreak. Not at all. His newest song was a metaphor see, not a heartbroken ballad of unrequited longing and aching, of course not. Shut up.

Jaskier crashed angrily through the brush on the side of the road as he told off his inner critic, no longer having anyone to talk to but still managing to piss off himself in their absence it seemed. Which was perfectly fine! See? He didn’t need anyone anyway, he could even make himself miserable if he had to, no need to drag any Witchers into his mess at all when he was this self sufficient.

By the time he came back to himself and looked around he couldn’t see the road anymore, but also had only a passing idea at which way he’d come from. Excellent. Might as well keep getting lost then, why not, really? Maybe the world would be lucky enough that he’d fall so far down an unseen ditch that he’d just disappear forever, or maybe he’d stumble on some cursed shrine that would vaporize him, freeing humanity of the huge burden he evidently was. Geralt would love that wouldn’t he? Or maybe-

Jaskier didn’t see the animal lying on the ground until he’d just about stepped on it, shifting his foot sideways at the last moment with a yelp. He scrambled to the side as the huge white furred creature lurched up, snarling at him.

“I was just being facetious!” Jaskier yelled to no one, automatically grabbing his lute to his chest as he stumbled backward onto the ground. “I don’t actually want to die, certainly not eaten!”

He nearly screamed for Geralt out of old habit, but paused when nothing lunged at him, when no teeth or claws latched into him.

The creature staring at him from across the clearing was a massive white wolf. It watched him silently with wide golden yellow eyes, as if it were as shocked to see Jaskier as he was to see it. The wolf was holding one front leg awkwardly up against itself, in the quickly dimming light Jaskier could make out what seemed to be the half chewed off shaft of an arrow sticking out of the poor thing’s shoulder.

“Sorry, very terribly sorry to bother you.” Jaskier said weakly, still shaking with adrenaline as he sat in the dirt, clutching his lute like a shield. “I was trying to find someplace to camp and I was wandering and wasn’t looking where I was going and I didn’t mean- Really that arrow business looks like it hurts, how long have you had that nasty thing stuck in you?”

The wolf still had its ears back at him, tail tucked between its legs as it crouched close to the ground, but it wasn’t growling. Weren’t hurt animals supposed to be more aggressive? He was pretty sure he didn’t have that the wrong way around. Either way, he wasn’t about to look a non aggressive gift wolf in the mouth.

Jaskier very very slowly pushed himself to his feet. The wolf’s piercing golden eyes watched him, but it didn’t move, other than tucking its wounded leg closer.

“Say you’re not that bad for a wolf.” Jaskier said, softening his voice as he edged a step closer. Still no aggressive reaction from the wolf.

As Jaskier edged closer he could see the fur on the wolf’s shoulder was all matted down with dried blood. He thought of the medical kit in his pouch, something he’d learned the hard way to keep on him over the years traveling with a Witcher.

“What if I took a look at-" Jaskier paused as the wolf growled at him, ears pinned back with a snarl. Alright, so it had personal space boundaries after all.

Jaskier dropped to a crouch, his voice going even softer and higher pitched. “Hey now, I know that shoulder probably has you miserable, but I’m not so sure you’re much of a man eater if you left me alone after nearly stepping on you.” He snapped his fingers, digging into his pouch. “You know what though, you’re probably starving, not much hunting gets done on that leg I’ll bet.”

He pulled out several long strips of dried rabbit meat, gently tossing them to land in front of the wolf, trying not to startle it.

The animal’s ears were still pinned back, but it barely sniffed at the meat before snagging it, finishing it off in barely a few bites.

Jaskier edged closer to the wolf, swinging his lute back to keep his hands free, fingers open to show he meant no harm.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” Jaskier said gently.

He very very carefully set a hand on the wolf’s back, feeling almost giddy with the adrenaline his brain was giving him for being stupid enough to pet an injured wolf. He could practically feel Geralt yanking him back by the collar of his doublet.

The wolf growled, but it was more mixed with a whine now as it pressed itself against the ground. Jaskier now suspected that it was only in pain, not fear.

“You know I’m not sure you’re much of a wolf at all.” Jaskier said, carefully stroking the thick white fur, hoping to calm it. “There’s no way I’d still have both my hands at this point if you were really wild. For which I thank you by the way, playing the lute one-handed isn’t a skill I have much interest in picking up. You act more like some kind of massive dog, did you have a human family that raised you? Have you been abandoned by your person?”

The wolf’s growl continued, shifting neither up or down, looking somehow very judgmental as Jaskier talked.

“You know you remind me very much of a friend of mine.” Jaskier said with a wry smile that quickly dropped away. “Or, acquaintance I suppose, he never did anything but growl either. In fact you’re probably much more in tune with your emotions than he is I’ll bet, although most rocks probably are if I’m being strictly honest. The man’s really a complete imbecile.”

The wolf snarled, probably just because Jaskier’s fingers had reached the matted blood.

“Alright, so here’s my terrible plan.” Jaskier said, ignoring the snarl. Another unconscious habit he’d developed from hanging around Geralt apparently. “I’m going to try and remove this arrow, which is going to hurt terribly, and then I’m going to patch you up. I’d be extremely grateful if you didn’t dismember me in any way while I do, but if you can’t help yourself I suppose that’s fair.” He shrugged. “I’m not in a very self preserving mood at the moment, so I suppose a final act of misguided heroism isn’t the worst way to go. The last white wolf I hung around mauled me emotionally, so actually it would be terribly poetic if you did finish the job physically.”

The wolf quieted at that, staring up at him with golden eyes.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in temperament. Maybe it found this tone of voice most comforting for some reason? Alright he could work with that.

“It’s quite the tragic tale really.” Jaskier said, keeping up his miserable monotone as he quickly opened his medical kit, pouring some water from his flask across the wolf’s fur to loosen the blood. “The story of a young bard who attached himself to a man so emotionally constipated that he couldn’t even tell when the bard was utterly devoted to him. I was stupid enough to hang around him for years if you’d believe it. Even though he bit far more than you do my friend. With words I mean, Witchers don’t really bite people, you can’t believe all those terrible old wives tales.”

The fur underneath the blood soon resurfaced a watery stained pink as jaskier worked. The actual injury wasn’t very big, just the imbedded shaft and some damage where it looked like the wolf had tried worrying at it unsuccessfully to get it out itself. Jaskier put a hand on the wolf’s shoulder, gripping the shaft firmly.

“So anyway he finally decided he hated me enough to- sorry this part’s the hard bit-" he yanked the shaft out before he could talk himself out of it, bracing himself for the bite that was sure to come.

The wolf yelped, a high whining noise as it jerked with pain under him. But no bite.

“That’s a very good boy.” Jaskier said, panting a little as the dizzying spike of fear left him. He inspected the arrow to make sure nothing looked like it had snapped off before setting it aside. “That’s a very very good boy for not ripping my arm off, very good boy.”

He quickly set to work, patting everything dry, dousing it with a quick splash of alcohol and healing salve for luck, (the wolf only growled slightly at that, staring away into the trees) and then wrapping it up tight in a way Jaskier hoped wouldn’t slip off fur.

“There we go.” He said in relief, wiping sweat off his forehead as he tucked his supplies back into his pack. “Nothing like impromptu feral veterinary care to get the old heart pumping, eh?”

The wolf, being a wolf, of course said nothing, still staring off into the trees. Jaskier checked to see if it were actually looking at something, but no.

“You’re sulking.” Jaskier decided, petting the wolf between the ears before the animal shook its head to get his hand off. “Yes you are, I know that look anywhere. Probably terribly embarrassing to be the king of the forest and have to accept help from a lowly human bard eh? Well I suppose wolves aren’t really the king, not if there’s griffins or something about.”

The wolf looked at him with a long stare, and then shifted carefully to be facing away from him.

“That settles it.” Jaskier said with a smile, looking around and starting to collect firewood in the scant minutes he had before the sun’s light vanished entirely. “I’m calling you Geralt Junior. The both of you would get along splendidly in your stubborn grumpiness.”

The wolf looked over at him, ears pricked.

“Geralt Junior? You like that name?” Jaskier asked with a grin at the wolf’s response.

The wolf’s ears flipped back for a moment, as if confused, but then it hauled itself to its feet with a whine. It took a few halting steps toward him before stumbling on its bad leg, continuing to whine urgently.

“Whoa whoa hey, settle.” Jaskier said quickly, dropping his armful of sticks and kneeling by the wolf, carefully pushing its broad shoulders until it settled to the ground with an annoyed growl. “Lay down, stay. You shouldn’t be walking any more tonight, you’ve got to heal alright? Lay down boy, do you know commands?”

There was a low percolating noise in the wolf’s throat but it stayed down, burying its nose between its paws.

“That’s right, you go back to sulking Geralt Junior.” Jaskier said, patting the wolf’s head until he was shaken off a second time. “I’m going to see if I can scrape us together a fire for the night. Feel free to stick around if you like, I wouldn’t mind the company.” He sighed as he scraped a clear patch of earth with his boot and started to pile small sticks and tinder together. “If you do head out in the night I promise no hard feelings though. I’ve been reliably informed that I’m miserable company.”

The wolf didn’t look at him but one of its ears twitched toward him.

“Well you’re already an improvement on Geralt Senior.” Jaskier said dryly, striking sparks from his flint. “At least with you I can tell if you’re really listening or not.”

The wolf huffed, flicking its ear.

Jaskier kept an eye on the white wolf as he scraped a place to lie down next to the fire, rolling out his thin sleeping mat. He really expected the wolf to wander off into the woods at any moment, but instead it stayed right where it was at the side of the campfire as Jaskier settled for the night, steadily ignoring him as he chattering away.

“Well unfortunately for you I’m too tired to work on my songs for the night.” Jaskier said, setting another hunk of firewood in the flames before tucking himself under his thin blanket. He rested on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. “I’m famous for my singing you know, one of the most beloved bards on the continent for my music, you’re missing out on a real treat I tell you.”

The wolf huffed and shifted.

“Well, goodnight Geralt Junior.” Jaskier said, resting his chin on his arms. “It was nice to meet you, good luck on wherever you wander to next. Thanks again for not eating me.”

He meant to go to sleep immediately, but found himself watching the huge mound of white fur on the other side of the flames. He sighed quietly. Just like fate to send him such a clear ironic mockery like this. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the shadows of the tree branches above as they moved and whispered in the wind.

Well no matter the irony dripping from this whole situation, it had at least been a bit of amusement. Maybe he’d even start writing a song about it after the wolf was gone in the morning.

Jaskier closed his eyes, willing himself into unconsciousness before his mind could wander into its nightly routine of fretfully wondering what a different white wolf was up to.

***

Geralt Junior was not gone in the morning.

“Well hello again.” Jaskier said, his voice muzzy with sleep as he pushed himself up. The wolf was sitting, watching him from the other side of the fire, which judging from the blackened state of the wolf’s paws had already been scratched out for the day, charcoal markings scratched across the ground. “That’s a neat trick with the fire, bit rude to watch people sleep though.”

He hoisted himself to his feet with a groan, cracking his back and then stopping to roll up the sleeping mat. “I suppose you’re hanging around because you’re still hungry, well I-oh, hello.”

He startled as a cold wet nose pushed against his bare wrist. The wolf had padded silently over to him, evidently no longer limping. The bloodied binding on its shoulder was starting to slip off too.

“You weren’t biting at this during the night were you?” Jaskier scolded, pushing the wolf back a bit so it wasn’t practically standing over him and taking the bandages off. “Because if you were I’ll...”

He trailed off as the bandages slipped away, revealing a small wound that had nearly healed over already in the night. It was still angry and red looking, but the skin was already well on its way to being mended, a far cry from the gaping bleeding wound last night.

“Did Geralt slip something into my salve?” Jaskier wondered aloud, scratching the wolf’s head absently. “You’ve healed nearly as fast as he does.”

This time the wolf didn’t shake off his hand, instead whining at him, shoving its nose into Jaskier’s palm.

“Hey, it’s a good thing.” Jaskier assured the animal, “It means you can go without bandages now as long as you don’t bite at it.”

He scratched harder right behind the wolf’s ears, not missing the way its tail gave half a wag before the wolf caught itself and ducked away from his hand with a whine.

“Don’t you give me that,” Jaskier said with a grin. “I saw that tail wag, you like pats, you big grumpy thing, you can’t fool me with that act.”

The wolf shook itself hard with a huff, then trotted off into the trees without so much as a backward glance.

Jaskier felt unreasonably disappointed to see the animal go, but put on a smile as he waved. “Goodbye Geralt Junior!” He called after it. “And good luck!”

***

“Storm, tempest...” Jaskier muttered to himself as he walked, kicking stray pebbles as he came across them on the road. “Red skies in morning. Warning. Red skies in morning bringing a warning. That’s good, I’ll keep that.”

It had been another long and lonely day on the hot road, but he’d nailed down nearly all the lyrics to his new song at least. He hadn’t anticipated just how much lonelier it would feel to travel solo after having met last night’s surprise visitor, but at least it had helped keep his mind off...other things...

Jaskier looked up at the setting sun. Well, better to get a start on finding a place to sleep earlier than later tonight. Tomorrow he’d reach the next town if he wasn’t terribly mistaken. He stepped off the path, starting to make his way through the brush.

He couldn’t wait to get back to playing, being around people again would help him get his mind off things. He could start working to refill his purse, perhaps even save up for a horse. He could finally feel less alone, surrounded by an audience and whatever one night stands he could manage to scrounge up in town.

If only he hadn’t-

Jaskier froze as he caught motion out of the corner of his eye and felt himself choke as something huge rushed toward him.

He turned to look and startled again, laughing out loud in relief when he turned to see a white wolf bounding up to him, two dead rabbits clamped in its bloodstained mouth.

“You’ve got to make more noise than that if you don’t want me to die of a heart attack!” He cried, but was unable to wipe the grin off his face at the return of his new friend. “So you’re not sick of me after all, huh? I’m truly flattered you know.”

The wolf ducked its head, dropping the rabbits on the ground in front of him.

“Well if this is your way of saying thank you, then I heartily accept.” Jaskier said with a smile, reaching out and patting the wolf’s head, which the animal seemed to reluctantly endure. “Let's find a good place for a fire and I’ll get these skinned and roasted for us, alright?”

Jaskier picked the rabbits up by the hind legs and strode into the woods with a much happier spring to his step.

An hour later a fire had been made and both rabbits disposed of. Jaskier sat on a log as he plucked at his lute, watching the wolf idly gnawing on a rabbit bone.

“Normally I’d start writing a song about you right away.” Jaskier assured his companion as he tuned a lute peg. “But I’ll reach town tomorrow and I’ve got to have this new song tavern ready if I’m to have any new material.”

The wolf twitched an ear, shifting its gnawing to the other side to watch him as it chewed the tiny bone.

“That’s right, a new Dandelion tune, you’re the first one to hear it too.” Jaskier smiled, strumming a few chords.

He wasn’t really expecting the wolf to listen but as he picked out the opening chords he was intensely aware of the animal’s golden eyes fixed on him. Well, so much the better for practice, Jaskier had never shied away from an attentive audience, no matter the species.

“The fairer sex they often call it,” Jaskier sang, his smile dropping away as the song pulled him in. “But her love’s as unfair as a crook.”

The notes flowed and so did the lyrics, the newest words clicking neatly into place as he sang. The emotions of the last two weeks pulled through him one more time as he fixed them into the song, hopefully a space apart from his heart. Maybe showing them off to strangers could get them to dull a bit.

He knew it wouldn’t, but it was too good a hope to abandon entirely. Not yet.

His gaze flicked up to the wolf as he sang, and he was mildly surprised to see the animal watching intently, bone forgotten.

“I am weak my love, and I am wanting.” Jaskier sang.

He grimaced as his voice broke a little on the line, too much emotion getting through. Or maybe exactly the right amount. To his amusement he could see the wolf tip its head at that, but he pushed on through the rest of the song, finally finishing with a flourish.

“Her Sweet Kiss, by myself.” Jaskier said with a half bow, setting his lute down beside him. “You’ve been a wonderful audience Geralt Junior. I’ve been working on it for the last month or so. It’s undergone some, ah, heavy revisions in the last two weeks, but I think it’s turned out alright.”

Jaskier heaved a sigh, trying to dispel some of the heavy emotion still in his chest as he wiped at his eyes. “I’ll have to tone down to waterworks a bit when I’m performing in front of people though. Pining gets you far more coin than crying, I’ve learned that performing lesson the hard way. Perks to traveling alone you know, I don’t have to try hide any of that around you.”

Jaskier slid down off the log and propped his arms back on it. The wolf across the fire let out a long whine, still watching him.

“Oh, I’m alright.” Jaskier assured the animal, wiping at his eyes even as the tears keep coming. “It’s just been, um, a rough couple of weeks. Had someone I loved very much get rid of me in a rather terrible and unexpected fashion. I figure if I sing instead of crying about it I’ll get more coin, just more practical that way really. No use pining after a friend that hates you...”

Jaskier tipped his head back against the log with a shaky sigh, closing his eyes against the tears that still came. They’d end eventually if he waited them out, better to get them out now rather than in front of a crowd tomorrow.

He opened his eyes as he felt a heavy weight settle against the side of his leg. He looked down to see the wolf had laid down beside him, tucked up against his leg as the animal stared off into the trees, head rested on its paws.

“There we go, we can sulk together.” Jaskier said with a teary chuckle, gratefully running his fingers through the wolf’s thick white fur. “I promise I’ll be alright...someday. I don’t know.” Jaskier huffed, wiping at his eyes again. “But twenty two years, and you know he never once called me his friend? I mean he was always insulting me, but he never actually tried to make me- okay, well he did try to make me leave several times, but that was mostly at the beginning. But still, twenty two years Geralt Junior. That’s such a long time to be treated like garbage.”

The wolf let out a wine, looking up at him.

“We had good times too though. So many good times.” Jaskier said sadly, scruffing both hands through the wolf’s fur, focusing on that instead of his own words. “We traveled so many places, had so many adventures. He can lighten up you know, especially if you get him alone and well fed. He’s got such a wicked sense of humor and a smile that could melt snow, even if so few people really see it. He’s excellent at Gwent, even if he always gambles too much at it. He’s got such a good heart too, he’s always trying to do the right thing, even if it comes back to cause him more trouble later.”

Jaskier laid his head on the wolf’s broad back, watching his fingers pet the white fur in front of his face as his voice got quieter.

“Honestly it only makes it worse though. To be hated by a good person hurts so much more than being hated by a bad one...”

The wolf whimpered and shifted, making Jaskier think for a moment that he’d leaned against its bad shoulder. But instead the animal shoved its snout into Jaskier’s chest, continuing to whine.

“You’re very sweet.” Jaskier said with a smile, “Even if you don’t understand any of this, I’m very grateful that you’re listening anyway.” He took the wolf’s head in his hands, kissing its forehead. “Whoever your person was must have been very sad to lose you.”

The wolf looked away, then after a long moment settled its head back on its paws.

“Sleep isn’t a terrible idea.” Jaskier yawned, resting his head against the wolf again. He watched the fire for a few more minutes of silence before his eyes drifted shut.

His last absent thought was that he hoped the wolf didn’t mind being used as a pillow without having properly been asked.

***

It was day three and Jaskier now knew for a fact that Geralt had slipped something into his medical kit, because his wolf companion was trotting easily at his side as they neared the village, only a pale scar on its shoulder that was hidden entirely by thick fur.

Why Geralt had never thought to use such a miracle cure on him when he’d managed to get banged up was beyond him. Jaskier had narrowed it down to either further proof that Geralt really didn’t like him all this time, or else quick healing magic only properly worked on wolves, whether metaphorical or literal.

But as much as he hated it Jaskier couldn’t remember a time that Geralt had ever been rough or hateful with him while treating one of his wounds. Exasperated certainly, but always urgent and attentive, making sure Jaskier healed as quickly and cleanly as possible.

Which somehow left the more poetic answer, something that Jaskier couldn’t quit smiling about as he walked down the road. Though perhaps that was more due to the fact that the village, and thus a comfortable real bed, were now in sight in the distance.

Or maybe it was the massive white wolf padding silently by his side, not having left him once since last night.

“We’re nearly there.” Jaskier hummed happily, playing with the strap of his lute. “Then we'll have warm fires and warm food and warm audiences...”

He trailed off as he walked, looking at the enormous animal walking beside him.

“Although I’m not sure the inkeep will be thrilled to let a wolf into their establishment... or the townspeople either.” Jaskier said with a frown.

To be quite honest Jaskier himself didn’t even know how the wolf would act around people, if it would start snapping or biting if it were to be taken through a crowd or into an enclosed space. He’d known some inns to allow well trained hounds to room with their masters, but that was always with the passing over of extra coin.

For all the wolf was sticking to his side today Jaskier still wouldn’t be all that surprised if the animal peeled off once they got close enough to the town.

Well, there was only going to be one way to find out, meaning it was time for a badly thought out spur of the moment plan.

“So, Geralt Junior.” Jaskier said, pulling to a stop and digging through his pack. “We’re about to be around a lot of people when we get to town, and as you’ve seen humans get skittish around creatures like you and I’d rather not have another arrow in your shoulder. I understand if you leave before we get there, but if you do stick with me we’re going to have to make you seem as domesticated as possible.”

The wolf pinned its ears back as Jaskier pulled a wide turquoise belt out of his pack, the dyed leather covered in imprinted flowers.

“I know it’s going to be a hit to your wild beastly pride, but I really think turquoise might suit you.” Jaskier said with a cheeky smile. “Although if you’d rather run off wild you’d better let me know right now, because I’m not going to have you running off with this and leaving me with an incomplete outfit, these things aren’t cheap you know.”

The wolf stared at him with a look that Jaskier could only think of as disgust. But after a verrrrry long minute the wolf sat, looking away with the same disgusted look.

“There’s a good boy.” Jaskier praised, quickly leaning down to secure the makeshift collar around his wolf’s neck. “I think you look rather dashing.” He scruffed the thick fur above the collar. “And with one fell fashion statement you’ve now worn more color than your namesake has in his entire unnaturally long life, so you at least have that going for you.”

The wolf refused to look at Jaskier, instead plodding on ahead without waiting for him.

Jaskier laughed at his sulking wolf, but they both became more serious as they approached the town. The wolf kept scenting the air every few steps and Jaskier found himself smiling uneasily at the people they started passing more and more frequently. Not all of them stared openly, but all of them were definitely at least sneaking looks as they walked by.

“Just stick by me.” Jaskier said quietly, his fingertips finding the edge of the collar and staying there as they approached an inn.

He thought about trying to leave the wolf outside, but the animal pressed close against his leg as he walked into the establishment, as if nervous of being left alone in the middle of town. Well, at least it played well into the pet charade Jaskier was playing.

“That's quite a beast you’ve got yourself there bard.” The innkeeper called from behind his counter. He didn’t sound exactly wary but Jaskier could see the man relax a little when he glanced at the floral colored collar. “Afraid we won’t have no fighting dogs in here, he’ll have to keep to the yard if he’s the kind to pick fights.”

“Not to worry my good man, I’ve had Geralt Junior since he was a pup, though truth be told we had no idea he had so much wolf in him when he was still small.” Jaskier said brightly, lying through his teeth. “He’s big, but he’s a big pushover, I can promise you’ll have no trouble from him.”

He looked down at the wolf, for a moment wondering if he weren’t taking too much of a risk with this one. He didn’t know the wolf, but it had stuck by him so closely and the thought of leaving it outside now made him bite his lip.

The wolf gazed up at him with bright yellow eyes, then at the innkeeper, as if thinking. Jaskier raised an eyebrow as the wolf’s tail started to wag and it started to pant with a very doggish smile, leaning hard against him. For all the world the very picture of a lifelong pet.

Well. Unexpected, but good?

“Well he seems polite.” The innkeeper said, smiling down at the wolf. “I’ll allow it as long as you’re willing to pay extra for a room, but even a hint of trouble and you’re both out.”

“Agreed.” Jaskier said eagerly, “one room and meals for the two of us then please, and I’d like to perform tonight if you’re willing.”

“The place is yours,” the inkeep said with a smile, handing Jaskier a room key in exchange for coin. “Haven’t had a bard through here in a while, it'll do us good to have some song.”

***

Jaskier was used to audiences fawning over his singing or his playing or his good looks, but drawing attention because of a huge white wolf resting peacefully at his feet was an entirely new experience. Word of the new bard and his tame snowy white wolf traveled quickly it seemed, Jaskier spotted people ducking in and then out of the tavern all night, smiling and pointing and even tossing an extra coin to them as the night went on.

And through it all the wolf stayed out at Jaskier’s feet, calmly listening and watching the audience throughout the night, only shifting a bit whenever Jaskier got up to move along to a more rousing ballad.

There was one moment when a young girl pushed through the crowd and fell squarely onto the wolf. Jaskier actually fumbled a chord as he gasped in a breath of startled fear.

But the wolf only huffed in surprise, blinking at the little girl as she recovered herself and hugged him around his great furry neck. A moment later a woman darted forward with a hurried word of apology as she grabbed her daughter’s arm and dragged her back.

“Not to worry madam, as you can see he’s quite tame.” Jaskier said with a tip of his hat and a brilliant smile that belied the way his heart was pounding in his chest at what could have easily been a disaster.

He finished his song and then bowed to the applauding crowd, gathering up all the coin offered to him as the people dispersed, seeing he was done for the night.

Once the coin was tucked away Jaskier dropped to one knee in front of the wolf, stroking the animal’s head and speaking in a hushed tone. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for being so tame. Gods above, I thought we were finished for a moment there, you’re truly a magnificently patient beast.”

The wolf ducked its head away from the praise, but Jaskier saw its tail wag against the wooden tavern floor.

“Time for supper and then for bed.” Jaskier said, getting to his feet. “I think you’re going to be a great favorite with audiences my friend if you keep this up, I’d be willing to bet half our coin tonight was due to you alone. We make an excellent team.”

The wolf got to its feet, tail still wagging as it followed Jaskier to a table. While Jaskier ate several people came up to ask if they could pet the wolf, offering bits of food in trade which the wolf accepted eagerly enough.

By the time Jaskier made it to his room, wolf trailing behind, he was convinced he must have done something miraculous to have discovered such a perfect traveling companion.

“You perfect thing.” Jaskier said once they were in the room, a yawn breaking through his smile.

He scratched behind the wolf’s ears and then stripping off his doublet for the first time in days. Really he should take a bath, but the bed looked far too inviting. He collapsed onto the sheets, sprawling out in the warmth of the room as he kicked his boots off.

“A room, a warm fire, coin in my pocket, and an agreeable traveling companion. If only Geralt could see me now.” Jaskier said, slinging one arm over his eyes with a chuckle that turned a bit sad at the end. “I hope that bastard’s alright, wherever he is.” He said quietly.

He felt a cold nose against the back of his hand and raised his arm, looking over to see the wolf whining at him.

“No, not you, the Witcher Geralt.” Jaskier said with a fond smile, petting the wolf’s head. “I'm sorry if I talk about him too much, I suppose I’ve thought of him too long, my brain doesn’t know what else there is to think about.”

He patted the mattress and after a moment of hesitation the wolf jumped up, lying down beside him. The wolf rested his head on Jaskier’s chest, a pleasant warm weight, better than any blanket he could have asked for. Jaskier carded his fingers through the thick white fur as he closed his eyes.

“I suppose I should try forgetting about him entirely.” Jaskier said softly. “I don’t want to though. I think there’s always going to be some mad piece of me that’s going to hope he’d come back for me someday, our paths always cross often enough.”

He petted the wolf in silence for a long minute.

“I can’t do it again though.” Jaskier said firmly, his voice even quieter. “Even if I do see him again someday I won’t go along with him, won’t even look at him, I can’t. I’ve set myself up for heartache and failure for too many years, working so hard to make him a hero of the people in all my songs. There’s never going to be a world in which he actually listens to me or cares, he always took me for granted, I have to remember that.”

Normally he would have teared up by now, but the comforting warmth of the wolf seemed to anchor and steady him as he petted it. The wolf even let out a long low whine that matched his sadness.

“You understand though, don’t you Geralt Junior?” Jaskier said with a smile, ruffling the wolf’s ears with a yawn. “I suppose if I’m going to move on I should think of a better name for you then shouldn’t I? Maybe a flower name to match mine, take our performances to a whole new level.”

The wolf sneezed violently, shaking its head.

“Alright alright, I’ll give it some more thought tomorrow.” Jaskier laughed. He sighed deeply, pulling his pillow a bit more firmly under his head.

It was much easier to get to sleep than it had been the nights before.

***

Weeks passed as Jaskier and his wolf passed through town after town, settling into a rhythm that Jaskier couldn’t have improved if he’d tried.

They spent days at a time in each town, Jaskier serenading crowds who came to see the wolf bard play, bringing in coin aplenty with new songs that seemed to write themselves. Some were thinly veiled laments of course, but Jaskier found himself falling into much happier tunes again far faster than he would have predicted. Ones about canine friends and cheerful adventures and sunny days and good company.

He still enjoyed the crowds of course, but now some of his favorite days were the ones between the towns, days like this when it was just him and his wolf together on the open road.

“Geralt if you don’t bring the stick back to me I can’t throw it for you.” Jaskier called, plucking a tune on his lute as he walked under the pleasant sunny afternoon sun.

Ahead of him the great white wolf bounded back and forth across the road in and out of the weeds, a large stick in his mouth as he dashed around, never seeming to tire of smelling everything they passed. Around his neck was a fine thick collar with colorful flower patterns woven into the design, a favorite with the ladies and small children. Jaskier had tried some other names for the wolf over the past few weeks but none of them had stuck as well as Geralt Junior had, even that of course eventually dropping to just Geralt.

Things had somehow gotten especially smoother after Jaskier had snapped one night, about a week in to their companionship when the animal was acting especially moody.

That’s it, new rule. Unless you’re in pain or I’m in danger there’s going to be absolutely no growling or snarling at me. I’ve gotten a lifetime's worth of that from your namesake thank you very much, and I refuse to take any more of it.

He of course hadn’t expected his outburst to change anything, but he almost thought it had, his wolf being more careful around him, as if it actually realized how upset he’d made Jaskier.

As they’d traveled the wolf had slowly loosened up in more ways than that too, his previous frequent growls and silence trading for eager tail wagging and barks as they performed for tavern after tavern of people eager to pet and praise him. He never really became rambunctious per se, always still a bit reserved and aloof. But Jaskier was certain his wolf was becoming far happier of an animal while traveling with him than he had been before, and feeling needed like that made him feel warm inside.

It wasn’t very often now that he thought of the old Geralt. Not forgotten certainly, but this new life was filled with plenty of happiness to focus on, instead of the pain he suspected would have devoured him had he not found his new companion.

The wolf bounded up to him, letting Jaskier wrestle the stick away from him and fling it off into the bushes again, then took off after it like a shot. Jaskier wiped the wolf slobber off his hand on his pants and picked up his strumming again with a smile. The one thing he hadn't seen yet was the animal getting tired, the beast having apparently been blessed with incredible stamina.

Up ahead he could see someone approaching from a distance. A horse merchant judging by the string of horses roped behind his own, a couple other men riding with him to keep them in line.

Jaskier politely made his way to the side of the road, halting his strumming to keep from spooking any of the merchant’s stock.

The merchant tipped his head to Jaskier in appreciation as they approached, but Jaskier jumped as he heard barking. He turned to see his wolf rush up to the horses, yelping and whining. The merchant and his boys shouted as they wrangled the spooking horses as they all tried to shy away from the canine.

“Get your animals under control!” The merchant snapped, swinging off in a rapid dismount to catch at his horse's bridle.

“I am so sorry!” Jaskier cried, dashing forward and grabbing the wolf’s collar, trying to haul him back with little success as the animal kept trying to lunge forward, whining desperately with its tail tucked between its legs. “Geralt, down! This has never happened before, he’s usually so good around horses, I-“

Jaskier’s breath caught as he saw one horse that hadn’t shied away, the animal instead yanking toward the wolf. A glossy chestnut mare with a white stripe down her face.

“...Roach?” Jaskier said, his mouth dry.

The mare tossed her head with an urgent whinny as she tugged against her rope halter. There was the old patch of white above her back left hoof, and the horse was actively fighting to try and get near him. It was really her.

“Where did you get that horse?” Jaskier demanded, a hollow icy feeling curling in his gut as he let go of the wolf, rushing up to the mare instead.

“Hey, get back, she bites!” The merchant barked, but he paused as Jaskier stroked Roach’s cheek. The horse crowded up to him, stomping her hoof and tucking her head close over his shoulder.

At their feet Jaskier’s wolf whined and yelped, dancing around in clear agitated excitement that Roach didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Where did you get this horse?” Jaskier repeated, turning to look at the merchant, who was hovering back now. “She belongs to a Witcher, she’s got no place in your stock herd.”

Some kind of uneasy look passed over the horse merchant’s face. Jaskier knew he didn’t cut a very intimidating figure, but he could feel the dangerous heat in his own glare and could hear the growling coming from his wolf beside him.

“We found her wandering a few weeks back.”  One of the merchant’s boy’s spoke up, looking nervously at the wolf. “She was wandering with a half loose saddle in the middle of nowhere, the camp she was by looked like it had been abandoned for days, clothes scattered about, the place was a wreck, blood all over the place.”

The merchant shot the boy a look, but shook his head, giving up. “If she did belong to a Witcher her rider was long gone by the time we found her, I swear it. Whoever they were certainly wasn’t still alive enough to retrieve his horse when we found her. Must have taken on a contract that was too much for him.”

“You’re lying!” Jaskier snapped, his fingers curling in Roach’s mane. “You stole her, you saw her outside a tavern someplace and thought you could get away with it. Well Geralt’s probably hot on your tail by now and you’re all going to regret it!”

“I swear to you we ain’t no horse thieves.” The merchant said, his expression clouding. “Besides, she’s been nothing but trouble ever since we found her, kicking and biting anyone who gets too close. We’re just about ready to sell her for glue.”

“Give her to me.” Jaskier demanded, fingers already working at the rope tied at her bridle. “She isn’t yours, I’m taking her back to Geralt.”

“Whoa, hey,” the merchant said, advancing on him, only stopping short when the wolf snarled at him. “We’ve been keeping her fed and watered for weeks now, if her Witcher were going to “track us down” it would have happened by now, and as it is we’ve got to at least get the cost of her feed back out of her.”

“Fine, I’ll pay for her food cost.” Jaskier said angrily. “But she’s coming with me now, as well as anything else you stole from where you found her. And believe me, I’ll know if you try to keep any of it back.”

As long as he stayed angry he could keep the fear back. Because Geralt would never never leave Roach abandoned, she was the one thing in the world that Jaskier knew he loved. And if Geralt had been alive enough to walk he would have tracked the horse thieves in a matter of hours.

So where was Geralt?

The merchant must have done some quick calculating in his head of the risk of an angry bard and an angry wolf and an angry horse compared to a quick and easy payout, because he was soon nodding to his boys who scrambled back to the pack horses.

“It’s alright Roach.” Jaskier soothed quietly, taking hold of her rope bridle once he detached it from the lead rope. “It’s alright girl, you’re safe now.”

His wolf was still whining and pressing up against them both. The horse ducked her head down to nuzzle against the wolf, which struck Jaskier as odd, the old mare generally only allowing Geralt himself to touch her. Jaskier had only worked up to being allowed that particular honor after years of sugar cubes and braided manes and pretty compliments.

The boys returns with their arms full, dumping the contents at Jaskier’s feet. Roach’s saddle and tack, saddle bags and camping gear.

Jaskier’s blood ran cold when he stooped to shuffle aside a sleeping roll to uncover a set of all too familiar black studded armor, and two separate long swords. One silver. One steel.

“These were all at his camp?” Jaskier asked, his voice dangerously on edge and brittle as he searched through the pile, finding every single item Geralt regularly traveled with.

“They were, strewn about in a right mess too.” The merchant said, looking very much like he was more than ready to have this whole mess off his hands for good.

Jaskier numbly checked the saddle bags, looking up as his voice cracked.

“The medallion.” He demanded hoarsely. “Where’s the silver wolf medallion?”

The one thing the Witcher never never took off, not even to bathe or sleep. If that at least was still missing then maybe-

One of the boys blushed, quickly pulling a chain from under his shirt and handing it to Jaskier, whose fingers took it in a kind of desperate spasm. His wolf nosed desperately at the medallion, whining and whimpering.

“That’s all of it.” The merchant said hesitantly, clearly disturbed at Jaskier’s reaction.

Jaskier stood, the medallion clutched so hard in his hand that his fingers were bleaching white around it. He pulled out some coin and handed it to the merchant, who barely glanced at the sum before nodding and signaling his boys back in the saddle.

Within a minute of hurried commotion the merchant and his herd were gone, leaving Jaskier standing in the middle of the road with a horse and a wolf. Trembling as he stood over all that remained of Geralt of Rivia, his Witcher medallion clutched in his hand.

Jaskier breath was coming quickly and raggedly as his mind feverishly cast about for any explanation that didn’t end with Geralt being very much gone forever.

His armor looked roughed up and was spattered with dried blood. Had he been eaten out of his own armor? Cursed entirely out of existence? Either way, gone forever. Leaving behind everything.

Leaving behind Jaskier.

Jaskier was trembling so hard that his knees gave out, sending him to the ground on his hands and knees as his rapid shallow breathing gave way to sobs. The edges of the medallion were cutting into his hand, but he didn’t care as tears ran down his face, his mind paralyzed in a loop of denial and panic and grief.

He was gone.

Geralt was gone.

Jaskier felt a heavy warmth press against him and he reflexively wrapped his arms around the wolf as it crowded against his chest. He buried his face in the thick white fur, holding on tightly enough that it must be hurting, but the wolf only draped heavily across his lap, silent as Jaskier sobbed.

He might have cried like that for minutes or an hour before he slowly came back to himself, the wolf nosed at his ear, clearly concerned.

“He’s, he’s gone.” Jaskier hiccuped, opening his hand to look at the medallion, the silver wolf head glinting coldly back at him. Despite having seen it for years, seeing it apart from Geralt made it look unnatural and foreign. “I mean...I k-know I already lost him...b-but not like this.”

His wolf whined quietly, pressing its head against Jaskier's shoulder bracingly. Jaskier buried his face against the white fur.

“Why did that have to be the last time I saw him...” he said quietly, the hollow feeling inside enveloping him completely. “Why did it have to end like that? I really believed I would see him again. What am I going to do now?”

He felt Roach nudge his shoulder and the tears came again as he looked up at her. He unsteadily got to his feet, rubbing her cheek. “Oh Roach, I’m so sorry. You probably saw it actually happen too, you poor thing.”

He eased the rough rope bridle off her head, rubbing her face as his thoughts started to slowly become coherent again. Geralt didn’t really have next of kin, but the other Witchers would want to know what had happened.

“I know he didn’t like me much by the end, but I hope it’s alright if you stick with me.” Jaskier said to Roach. “I promise I’ll keep you brushed and well fed, no monster hunting, but I’ll take good care of you.”

The mare bumped her nose against his chest affectionately.

“I think we ought to find Yennefer.” Jaskier said quietly, sniffling and wiping his eyes as he pulled Roach’s tack from the pile of things on the road. “She’ll know how to track down the other Witchers, to tell them what happened.”

He slipped her real bridle on and saddled her, then started packing all of Geralt’s things into the saddle bags, hanging the two swords at her flanks. He worked slowly, feeling like he would begin sobbing again if he moved too quickly.

The whole time he worked his wolf kept close to his side, staring up at him as it leaned against him comfortingly. Jaskier stopped several times to pet it, reigning his breath back in each time, away from the point of breaking down again.

When everything was ready to go Jaskier had to take a minute to compose himself before he could look at Roach. He’d packed her up exactly like this so many times, but never to ride alone. This isn’t what he wanted at all. He’d perhaps wished that he had something to remember his Witcher by, but not like this.

He pulled the medallion out of his pocket and stared at it. It felt wrong somehow to tuck it away when it had been worn openly for over a century. He looked at his wolf with a sigh, dropping down to one knee.

“I need you to hold onto this for me alright?” He said quietly. “Keep it safe while we travel.”

The wolf sat very still as Jaskier slipped the silver chain over its head.

One moment Jaskier was looking at his wolf, the next moment he was blinded by a blast of white light. He cried out, falling back in shock, letting go of the medallion chain.

He blinked hard, stumbling to his feet as his vision slowly came back to him, leaving his sight hazy and spotty for a long minute as he dizzily tried to balance himself.

Large hands gripped his arms and he yelled in panic, trying to jerk away from whoever had apparently ambushed him with magic. Were they after Geralt’s things? After Roach?

But before he could react further he was pulled into what felt exactly like a tight hug. He tried to struggle as his vision came back to him.

“Unhand me! Let me-"

“I’m sorry Jaskier.” Said a low voice in his ear.

The voice sounded husky, as if it hadn’t been used in a very long time, but Jaskier would recognize that voice no matter what it sounded like.

“G-Geralt?” He asked, his voice cracking.

The hug loosened, only enough for Geralt to pull back and look at him, his beautiful golden eyes bright and happy.

“I promised myself that if I ever got to speak again that’s the first thing I’d say.” Geralt said.

“You’re, you’re not dead?” Jaskier asked, starting to tremble hard, out of overwhelming sudden emotion or simple shock he couldn’t tell.

“I’m not dead.” Geralt said, gently kissing Jaskier’s forehead, sending him another level deeper into staggering shock.

“I’ve gone mad.” Jaskier said weakly, his legs giving out. “I’ve lost it, I’m off my rocker, the full nine yards, hallucinating. Completely batty.”

Geralt caught him with a chuckle, holding him steady. “You’re not mad, I promise. Not about this anyway.”

Jaskier swallowed, looking up at Geralt’s face as he rested his hands on the Witcher’s bare chest, then looked down.

“If you aren’t a dream of mine, then why aren’t you wearing any clothes.” Jaskier challenged flatly.

Geralt grinned. “Haven’t worn any in nearly two months now.”

Jaskier’s eyes caught on the silver medallion around Geralt’s neck, and even more specifically the loose woven collar that Geralt was unlatching and slipping off his neck.

The last two months all slammed into Jaskier at once, blindsiding him hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs completely.

“You’re Geralt!” He wheezed, eyes painfully wide. “The wolf Geralt, you were the wolf, the whole time, of course, of course! What, what happened?”

He didn’t quite know how his hands got on either side of the witcher’s face, but they were there, his face inches from his own as he scanned the familiar sight. Those golden eyes he’d had by his side for weeks now without ever seeing past them to the truth.

“Took a contract for a beast that turned out to be a sorcerer’s pet.” Geralt said, his voice starting to sound like its normal low self. He rested a hand on Jaskier’s wrist, stroking his thumb across the back of his hand. “I killed the beast but its master wasn’t too happy with me, I guess he had a sense of irony so he turned me into a white wolf. He ran me off, I met some hunters, got an arrow through the shoulder, was convinced I was going to die of either infection or hunger or more hunters, and then you nearly tripped over me.”

“It was dark, alright?” Jaskier said breathlessly, his mind skipping over nearly everything Geralt had said to focus instead on the fact that he was here and alive. “So, so you were with me these whole two months? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried, that first night I tried to scrape out a message with the ashes from the fire, but you didn’t notice. Whenever I tried to communicate you didn’t seem to catch on.” Geralt sighed. “After a week or two I gave up, it was pleasant enough traveling with you and I didn’t think there was a cure to the curse. I never would have guessed the medallion, and even if I had I wouldn't have known where to find it. Things were simpler once I gave up.”

Jaskier’s mind replayed the last weeks at super speed, trying to think of any time he’d noticed anything unusual. Perhaps the way the wolf had trusted him so quickly, how it picked up on commands so easily, how when he talked to it it really seemed like it were listening to him.

Jaskier paled, remembering exactly how much he’d talked. “You heard everything I told you? About, about you?” He asked weakly.

“Yes.” Geralt said soberly. “That’s why I decided an apology would be the first thing I’d say if I ever got back to normal.”

Jaskier’s bottom lip trembled, for once at a complete loss for words.

“Are you sure you’re not still cursed?” He finally managed, his hands dropping to Geralt’s chest again. “You’re being very nice to me and using ten times as many words as you usually do.”

“I’ve had two months of wishing I could talk, I have a list actually.” Geralt said, starting to speak a little faster and more earnestly, as if nervous that he’d lose his ability to speak again. “First, I felt terrible the minute you left that mountain, I was angry at so many different things and I took it out on you because you were the closest thing that I knew wouldn’t yell back. I’m sorry, Jaskier, I shouldn’t have.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Jaskier agreed quietly, mind still spinning a little, but starting to settle as he listened.

“Second, I do not hate you. I’ve never hated you. I hate that you think that, I hate that I made you think that, it’s not true.” Geralt said, almost sounding angry now.

Jaskier swallowed, nodding silently.

“Third you are my friend, my best friend, I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I'll never do it again or else you can run me through with my own sword.”

Jaskier only managed to make a kind of weak noise in response as Geralt gathered him into another tight hug.

“Anything else?” Jaskier asked, trying to make it sound like a joke, but his voice broke as he buried his face against Geralt’s neck.

“Just that I saw you take those apples at the market when you thought no one was looking, and that you really ought to make sure your poor dog is out of the room before you pull someone into bed with you for the night.” Geralt said, his voice sounding amused.

“You were a wolf.” Jaskier sputtered, blushing furiously as he looked up. “How was I supposed to know you were judging me? And really it’s not like you’ve never been to a brothel Geralt, you’re hardly an innocent, don’t try to shame me with that.”

“And your singing is actually quite good.” Geralt said gently, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist. “Even if some of your recent songs...sting a bit. Being up there with you while you performed every night was...special. I liked it.”

Jaskier swallowed again, unable to keep the dumb grin off his face even as he thought he might start crying again. “So not like a fillingless pie?” He asked, a little facetiously. His eyes widened and he jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest. “What about that time you started howling in the middle of my set? You frightened the entire tavern! I thought we were going to be run out of town for sure!”

Geralt laughed at that, a lovely deep warm sound. “That was because I saw a pickpocket in the crowd, I figured spooking them with a howl would be better than lunging into the crowd growling. It worked too, which was a nice surprise.”

Jaskier laughed too, a real laugh, not the kind of tight ones other people had gotten from him over the past months, the real kind that had only come when he was alone with his traveling companion.

“I think I’m going to miss wolf Geralt.” He said, tilting his head to the side, surprised at how sad he really felt at that realization. “I mean obviously I’m thrilled you’re not dead, or cursed, but the last two months have been so lovely.”

“Well, if you don’t mind Witcher Geralt too much I’d like to keep traveling with you.” Geralt said quietly. He glanced down at the way they were holding each other, then looked back up. “And maybe start a few things over while we’re at it?”

Jaskier’s heart fluttered in his chest, but he chewed his lip. All those nights of telling himself that he’d never go back to traveling with the Witcher coming back to him. All conversations Geralt had actually heard of course, meaning the Witcher knew exactly what he was really asking.

“How do I know it won’t go back to how it was?” Jaskier asked, a bit of fear creeping into his voice. “What happens when talking has lost its novelty and you’re back to growls and grunts, when you’re mad at being slowed down by me and need someone to take it out on?”

“This time I want to follow you. If you’ll let me.” Geralt said, gently resting his forehead against Jaskier’s. “The way we’ve done these past months. You go where you want, and I’ll take whatever contracts I find along the way, that way you don’t have to give up anything anymore to be around me, you can set the pace.” He brushed a thumb across Jaskier’s cheek. “It was nice following you around as a wolf, I think it would still be nice as a Witcher.”

“You use that line on every boy you flirt with?” Jaskier teased, but his smile was real. “I think I’d like that.” His expression grew serious. “But I will take you up on your offer of running you through with your own sword if you start being an imbecile again.”

“Good.” Geralt chuckled, brushing his nose against Jaskier’s. “And I promise no more growling or snapping at you, I’ve done well with that rule these past few weeks haven’t I?”

“You have.” Jaskier nodded tearily. “Although I thought it was just because I kept bribing you with treats.”

“I won’t pretend those didn’t help some.” Geralt teased.

Jaskier’s heart skipped as Geralt took his face in his hands and closed the last inches between them, kissing him softly. He closed his eyes, leaning into it, allowing the dozens of clamoring thoughts and questions inside him to still for at least a moment. A very good, very quiet moment.

As the kiss ended he gazed at Geralt, knowing he was probably a bit starry eyed. Behind them Roach huffed and stamped the ground, breaking the moment.

“I haven’t forgotten you either, girl.” Geralt said fondly, letting go of Jaskier and walking over to her, firmly stroking her nose and kissing her forehead. “I was so worried about you, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Roach swished her tail and nickered, affectionately shoving her head against Geralt’s chest.

Jaskier gasped, his eyes lighting up. “I just realized this is all going to make a brilliant song.” He said, nearly giddy at the thought as he fished his notebook out of his pocket. “The Witcher Wolf, a rousing ballad about transformation and reconciliation.”

“Well be sure to put your apple theft in there somewhere.” Geralt snorted, pulling his clothes out of the saddle bags and starting to shrug them on. He grimaced as he pulled on his pants. “Have clothes always been this claustrophobic?”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind if you left them off, but I can’t speak for the townspeople.” Jaskier said with a smirk, already scribbling snatches of lyric ideas in his notebook. He looked up, eyebrows raising as he watched Geralt struggle into his boots. “Hang on, that’s why you never licked people like other dogs do, because you were Real Geralt the whole time.”

“I had to keep my dignity somehow.” Geralt said, frowning as his fingers slipped a bit at his shirt buttons. “Darn fingers are going to take some getting used to.”

“Oh, dignity eh?” Jaskier smirked, coming up and doing the witcher’s shirt buttons for him. “So what about that time at the butcher’s last week when you-"

“If you ever mention that aloud I'm tossing you to the very next monster I see and walking away.” Geralt said sternly.

“Oh but now I have so many excellent stories about you!” Jaskier said gleefully. “Wouldn’t Yennifer love to hear about last month, when we were hiking through that forest and you decided to-"

Jaskier yelped as Geralt scooped him up and unceremoniously slung him over Roach’s back like a hunting trophy. Jaskier laughed as he clumsily righted himself in the saddle just as Geralt started moving, pulling Roach to walk with him down the road.

“Better get started on that wolf song, bard.” Geralt said, looking over his shoulder with a smile and handing him the notebook and pencil he’d dropped. “I think that’s a much better use of your breath.”

“Well, if you insist.” Jaskier said, primly taking back his notebook and pencil, but still grinning.

Because he got the feeling that things weren’t going to go back to the way they had been before. He got the feeling that they were going to be much, much better.

---------

Read Geralt’s POV with extra scenes!

[Geralt’s POV Chapter 1]   [Geralt’s POV Chapter 2]     

[salmonidparty]

The room was spinning. The white walls assaulted the eyes, and were nearly unbearable. The only thing that broke up the monotonous white was a black window that took up half of one wall. It was so bright. Far too bright...

The four corners of the room seemed too close together, and it was almost as though there was barely enough room to move around. Every movement only made these walls feel like they were getting closer and closer. The tiled floor below felt uneven, leaving one arm to blindly reach for nothing but an abyss to the right.

The room felt wrong, but was the room itself really the problem here...?

As the sedatives wore off, 3′s senses returned to him slowly but surely. Before he could fully open his eyes he had tried to push himself upright, but quickly found himself crashing back onto his right side. He tried to blink his eyes open again, finding great difficulty as the bright lights were like a hammer to his head. Were his eyes always this sensitive to light...? Could it have been because of the sedatives, or a lack of engagement? He couldn’t tell. The room continued to spin.

He stared long and hard at the wall across from him, his eyes wandering up to the black window. Mind still sluggish, he attempted to push himself up once again, with more success this time as he solely leaned against his left arm. It appeared that the arm allowed him to sit taller than normal, but the agent barely had any time to think about that, for as soon as he was level with the window, he could see something in it.

With a loud yelp that ripped his mouth open, 3 fell backwards in shock. What did he just see?! It almost... Looked like him. It had his bangs and his scar. But whatever he saw couldn’t have been him! It was a monster!

... Right?

His hearts were pounding in his ears, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. The tips of his tentacles started to tingle. His entire body felt strange, even stranger now that the sedatives had all but faded out completely. In staring at the opposite wall, he could see his own body in the edge of his vision.

His feet... His... Feet... Looked like the legs mammals had in ancient biology books. Large paws, tipped with wicked-looking claws, and the left foot was slightly bigger than the right. He could see spines jutting out of his thighs, looking just as dangerous as the claws at the end of his toes. This couldn’t be right... He tried to flex his toes, and the deformed paws followed suit. His blood turned cold. His head felt light. His breath was short. 

3 dared himself to observe the rest of his body. He lifted his hands to his face and quickly regretted it. No wonder the entire room felt lop-sided--it wasn’t the floor, but his own arms. Breath caught in his throat, his eyes darted wildly between the trembling appendages that were attached to his body.

While his right hand looked normal--a five-fingered hand that was colored yellow like his tentacles--his left hand, if one could call it such, was another story entirely. It was now a massive paw, much like his feet, but even bigger. It was heavy, and yet he somehow had little trouble lifting it into the air. It felt wrong. It looked wrong. There was no way that this... Thing was attached to his body...! He could move it with surprising ease, and yet he couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t, believe that it was “his.”

With a mighty thump, the large arm fell to the ground. Using his right hand 3 gingerly ran his fingers up to his left shoulder, over muscles and spines that jutted out at the peak. Chills ran through his entire body each time his fingertips touched this new arm...

He tensed, curling up his toes and clenching his beak. There was no doubt about it. This arm was a part of him. He felt sick to his stomach, and his mind raced a mile a minute. What did Scylla do to him? What did she make him?! And why did she leave his other arm so scrawny in comparison! He wrapped his hand around the enlarged bicep and dug his fingers feebly into the flesh. He wanted to increase his muscle mass, but... Not like this, never like this!

Jolting suddenly, his entire body began to tingle as if tiny crackles of electricity were trying to stimulate his muscles. His form bristled, making the spines that covered his limbs stand on end. He attempted to rise to his feet, but a stab of pain ran up his back when his left foot squashed something rather soft.

Falling back over and rolling about in confusion, that’s when 3 saw it: a long sleek gray tail that was tipped with a wide fan. It was a Great Zapfish tail. He was rigid as his wide eyes ran along the length of this tail. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Bitter irony? Punishment for all he had done two years prior?

The tip had a significant kink in it, which made the fan bend at a near 90 degree angle. Near the base, he could see where his own yellow ink started to fade in. The tail twitched occasionally.

Tears welled up in 3′s eyes. If he had anything in his stomach, he likely would have brought it up. He thought that what Scylla had done after she had trapped him was bad. Thinking on it, he could have certainly lived with looking like an under-developed pre-teen. But this... This was much, much worse. Far worse than any nightmare he could have ever dreamed up. This body wasn’t his anymore, it was her’s. The moment he stepped through the doors, Scylla claimed it for herself.

And now he was a monster.

Muscles still crackling with electricity, 3 rolled onto his knees and balled his hands into fists. He clenched his beak and hiccuped as he tried to draw in air as he lowered his forehead to the ground. Tears were pouring out of his eyes, and his tail thrashed about violently. He sobbed loudly, then threw his head back and loosed a wail that ripped his jaw open to an alarming degree. 

The thick white walls muffled his screams.

3 stared at the ceiling, his strained sobbing seeping through his beak. His mind was filled with rage. His chest was filled with fear. His muscles continued to spark, which only fueled the fire of hatred that was starting to burn inside of him. What would 8 think if she saw him like this? Could he even live in such a state? What kind of sick kick did Scylla get out of mangling and mutating people? Oh, how he wanted to wrap his new claws around her long neck...!

Slamming his balled paw into the ground, 3 roared. A thick cloud of fog was shrouding his mind, and a primal anger was now setting in at a breakneck speed. His sense of self was slipping away as he stared long and hard at the claws that were now digging deeper and deeper into his palm. Pain sprang through the limb as purple blood trickled out from underneath the sharpened tips. He didn’t care. 

Snarling, he bore his beak. He glowered and glared at the paw, loathing how unfitting and large it was. It didn’t belong there. He didn’t want it. He hated this new body of his, and wanted nothing to do with it. 

Something snapped inside of 3′s mind. No longer himself, his eyes were wide and wild, as if he had gone completely feral. Gnashing his beak he suddenly lashed out and sank it into his forearm with as much force as he could muster. Astringent-tasting blood stung at his tongue and pain shot through his entire arm, and yet he didn’t let go. If it meant that he could be rid of this monstrous thing attached to his shoulder,  he was going to tear his own arm off.

Just then, a buzzing could be heard and felt from something wrapped around his neck. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but Scylla had placed a collar there, possibly to keep him in check if something like this happened. While he expected a shock, a sweet aroma instead started to waft around the area, and a pink-toned cloud of smoke rose around 3′s face. 

Eyelids heavy, 3 was overcome with a sleepy sensation. His entire body began to relax, and the electric sparking finally started to die down and allow his muscles to ease. His beak slowly released his arm, leaving behind a beak mark, teeth marks, and a mixture of blood and ink that began to pool on the floor. 3 crumpled into a heap on the floor as his consciousness began to fade away once again. The fog of rage parted, only to be replaced by a dense smog of sleepiness.

Just barely aware of his surroundings, 3 could hear people entering the room. He could make out shapes in his blurred vision--it looked like Scylla and Jellsica. The two approached and began to examine closely, hands and tentacles placed about his body. With his subdued senses, each touch was like a faint buzz against the edge of his consciousness. He wanted to move away, but for the life of him, he couldn’t.

“Tch,” Scylla sneered, “Well, this is why we placed him into confinement, but we should have strapped him down...”

“At... At least the c-collar worked,” Jellsica started.

“Of course it worked,” Scylla huffed haughtily, “I made it.”

Jellsica was tempted to mention that she was the one who came up with the idea of using sleeping gas instead of harming the patient, but she refrained, “Um... I... I f-fear he could have broken any bindings, however... If we weren’t careful...” she squeaked, “He may not b-be aware of... Of his own s-s-strength...”

“Perhaps,” Scylla sighed in an exasperated way, “Either way, we’ll have to muzzle him for a time. Hmph! I can’t say I expected him to try and eat himself!” she paced back and forth while Jellsica continued the examination, “Ah, it started off so well, too! His reaction to his beautiful new body... If only he could have appreciated my handiwork.” 

The anemone leaned over and placed her own face directly in front of 3′s. She stared at him with a sharp gaze, which he could just make out. When he blinked hazily, she gave him a sinister toothy grin.

“Don’t worry, my little Zapfish,” she hummed darkly, “You’ll adjust to your new body in due time.~” she gingerly brushed one hand over the side of his face, as if he were some kind of pet or animal. It felt horrible, sending chills down his back and through his tail. If he could have bitten her, he would have...

She stood straight and folded her arms behind her back, “Jellsica.” the jellyfish jumped, “Bandage his wounds and make sure it doesn’t bleed out. Muzzle him, and...” she paused, “Find a way to cap off his claws until we can get him to cooperate. Maybe put some mittens on him, I don’t know, I don’t care, just make it so he can’t hurt himself.”

“B-but he... He’s still awake...”

“It doesn’t matter! Just do it, or you’ll wind up worse than him!”

“Y-yes, m’am...!”

Scylla left the room, however the tension in the air was still thick enough to cut with a knife. 3 could hear Jellsica sigh before she dragged a large first-aid kit to the agent’s side. With her in view, despite being very blurry, it made him realize... Just how large he was, now. He knew the helpful jellyfish wasn’t always that small. He screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t like this, not one bit...

Delicate tentacles tended to his wounds with extreme care, and they were so gentle that he could barely feel them as they brushed up against his skin and washed the bite marks. With all of his might 3 attempted to pull his arm away. However even with what felt like herculean strength, his massive arm barely moved even a quarter of an inch. It... Wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Jellsica at this point. That was probably the only reason that Scylla chose her to tend to him. No, it was because he didn’t want these wounds to recover.

By the time Jellsica finished tending to him, 3 had finally fallen asleep. Her already watery eyes wobbled with tears for what these poor teenagers had to endure. It didn’t matter whose fault it was, it didn’t matter who twisted them into unrecognizable shapes, or who lead them to the lab. Jellsica felt responsible for their horrific states, and hated herself for not doing more to get them out.

But... What could she even do...? Try and seek help? Be considered a loony? Potentially lead any help to their doom? If she was going to stop Scylla, she would need an army and a half, but where on earth could she get one of those? And if Scylla found out, not only would Jellsica be in danger, but an entire hive of jellyfish, too.

Continuing with the instructions given to her, Jellsica found a muzzle that would fit on 3′s enlarged face. Now for those claws... He would probably be able to pick off any caps they placed on, so she instead found four flat pillows with their cases and tied them around each hand and foot. Once he was prepared, she called for some guards to assist in bringing the poor soul back to his room.

[highkingfen]

A TM FB ground asked ‘’What do you love about fen’’ I had a lot to say...

Alright, so I am procrastinating to do something else so let me write why I love fen. 

Something Brittany said as she was saying goodbye to her character was how Fen was born to be a side character and became a hero. I remember starting to cry after hearing that because this is exactly why I adore her. 

I had an abusive relationship where the guy didn't even realize how abusive he was and destroyed the little self-confidence I had build in myself after years of bullying and not being smart enough in math for my high school. And then I decided to stop dating and rebuild myself and it is by mistake that I fell in love with my husband (We both didn't want to date, the irony) and when he introduced me to The Magicians he told me I’d associate with Fen. Most likely because I’d love her kindness and princess-y vibe. What he didn't expect is that I loved her for so much more than that

Fen comes from a world that doesn't value women the same as men. In a world where her father refuses to show her how to make magical blades because she was a girl . And yet, she learns how to use them and how to sharpen them with whetstone, despite not what a woman should do. She learned her father’s craft enough that she was able to appreciate a good blade (The couple’s torture device) or even know the difference between a blade cut vs an animal one (S03E02)

Fen was raised with the only goal to be a wife; one day it might happen that a stranger comes at their door and she will have to marry him without even saying anything, so her family could rise in the rank of Fillorian royalty. And arrive, Eliot who married her, thinking he would die and not to have to handle her, so when he came back alive she had to manage to be newlywed to a self-destructive man. 

Tick never valued her or the pesant, we see her face when he get means to the FU fighter, and I am sure it is not the only side remark Tick has done toward her; she was never one of the ‘’royalty’’.

One of their first conversation in the castle is how she wants to be obedient to him. which means she was told to be so, and probably that her job was also to produce an heir. Her job was to be the quiet wife of the High King and provide lineage. But that is not what happens. Despite Eliot saying he wanted her to be his equal, it took nearly 4 seasons for him to do so. He dismissed her, never told her when he left or what would happen and only truly cared when she was in danger or taken over by the fairy. Fen only knew what she had to do: be a wife and give a baby . But Eliot was not attracted to her and would never love her and Margo gave her baby away. 

So this leads us to her breakdown. Margo and Eliot clearly didn’t know what to do with her because they let her be in a psychosis where she was carrying a log as a baby, but losing her baby to the fairies was Fen's last straw. I think she was starting to accept that Eliot would never love her and that she might be able to help Fillory by staying with Eliot (’’You think I stay because of how deeply attracted to me you are. I love Fillory. It is my home’’ - S02E06) and losing her baby, the one thing she knew she could provide, was just too much; everything she was told to be and do she could not. 

This is why Margo giving her the crown as an Acting King in the end of S03 is HUGE. Not only she became the first crowned Fillorian (Tick never wore it) but it was also a sign for Margo to recognized that during season 3, she was learning how to heal and becoming her own person. Not Eliot's wife, but fen. There is this amazing moment where Fen says to Eliot that she can’t go to her old life and they are stuck together. This is both of them admiring their marriage will never work, but they promised to care for one another and they will. At least, they try. They do. 

If Julia showed Fen that healing of trauma is complicated but does not mean going toward a darker you, Margo showed Fen how to be her own voice. Not to be Eliot’s wife or Margo’s confidente, but Fen. Margo even let her lead the quest and make her own mistake before saving her from fraud (S04E08) because Margo knows that she would stay naive if she is never given the chance to do something on her own. Even more, when Margo learns that Fen wants to overthrow her, she trusts and know her enough that this is not a back-stabbing move but something bigger, and she accepts her fate in order to save Eliot, but also making sure Fen will be safe (’’I curse you Fen! But be nice to her!’’ S04E09) Fen will try to lead like Margo leads, being daring and trying to use her power to help; this is how her and Josh discover The Secret Sea in the castle after all. 

But then she gets abandoned in the past and learns that Margo had given up on saving her and even tried to kill her in the heat of a battle. While part of it could be forgiven (margo was wolfing hard let's be real) That is when Fen stop seeing Margo on a pedestal. (S05E03) She discovers that Margo, much like Eliot, has severe flaws. This doesn't mean that she will stop caring about her, but that she will be able to have her own voice when talking to her.

Season 5, now having a voice, she had to struggle just like Kady not to be the one in the background that nobody listens. If more than once she is ignored and that some of them are just cruel for no apparent reason when they need her she decide to say no. To call their bullshit and say that they would try harder to save Earth if it was happening on their planet. Eliot teaches her then what it means to have a voice and to be a hero; sometimes there is no perfect solution, just two choices and you take the less shitty. She learns there that having a voice is to listen to what other say and then put your own knowledge into the group instead of trying to do like Margo and stump on everyone with her idea. (S05E11) We see her during the heist episode, she use herself being FIllorian to insure her friend security (S05E12) and this confidence was totally new for Fen.  I don't think she would have been able to put her life on the line without what Eliot had told her before). 

Lastly, Fen wanted to be a mom. Losing her baby will be a trauma she will have to live with forever. But it is beautiful that, in a sense, she carried Fillory within her (i Mean literally) until it was ready to be hatched. (S05E12-13) FIllory 2.0 is her baby, she will be forever the mother of the land, forever linked with the history of the one place she loved and defended from the moment we met her. 

I love fen for all those reasons. Because sometimes, rebuilding yourself after trauma is messy and full of mistakes. But when you are ready to listen to your friends, to forgive and to stand up for what you believe, you can become a version of yourself nobody ever believes you could ever be. I am pretty sure if she’d go back to her dad, he would not recognize his daughter. This proud and self assured woman who, despite her trauma, seek to find good and kindness in people, try to forgive those who hurt her and also, fucking put fillory in her vagina. 

[kiirogirl]

Don't you shiver

25th March 2020

Her first ever date.

Hand in hand round the food stalls.

Brokenhearted when they part with an, "I'm sorry, it won't work. Your legs are just too fat"

That's what the future had in store for her. It's written in her book, after all.

But little, hopeful Nene seems to have forgotten about this little detail when Fuji-kun, one of her hot classmates, asks her out.

Well, it's actually not her fault if her brain short-circuits when a hot guy is involved. It's just how she is.

But she can't blame no one else either if now she feels like her heart has been ripped from her chest and cut into little pieces.

The only thing she can blame is this stupid feeling of hope that grows in her stomach every time she sets her eyes on a boy who seems like a good person. That kind of hope that makes her all giggly inside. The hope of making someone smile by just being herself.

The hope of sharing something special with a boy who makes her happy.

The hope of being loved and appreciated for what she is.

Nene knows she sounds selfish and maybe immature, but she really needs this. She needs to be loved. She needs to know if she ever crosses someone's mind, 'cause sometimes she just feels like she could disappear and nobody would care.

She is literally afraid of this. Afraid of waking up one morning and feeling terribly lonely. Feeling like she isn't enough for anyone, not even herself.

Because it was never about Fuji-kun or Minamoto senpai or that guy she fell for in middle school. Screw them. It has always been about her and her constant attempts to search for love and validation in a relationship with a popular guy.

And no matter how many times she felt rejected, she never gave up. Because her hope, her desire, never faded.

But now.. Now, she feels like something in her has broken.

She's tired of trying, tired of being stepped on… tired of exposing her heart just for it to be tossed away like trash.

That desperation, that fear of being unable to connect to other people in a way that makes her feel like she's worth of someone's love.. It feels more real than ever.

And it hurts. Her chest hurts. Her stomach hurts. Her head hurts.

She feels like she could throw up at any moment.

And it's all because of her stupid legs.

She hates them.

Nene cries loudly, unable to contain herself.

It must be the reason why Hanako finds her. Or maybe it's the bond, at this point she's not sure.

"Yashiro! There you are" he says as he approaches her. She just stays there, sitting on the dirty floor of the school greenhouse, not saying anything. The look of relief in his face suddenly changes when he sees her crying.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Hanako asks, the anger in his voice in contrast with his concerned eyes.

It's actually very rare to see him like this, all serious and not his usual buffoon self.

His worried expression reminds her of when Hanako took his hat off at the confession tree and for a moment she feels the same reassuring warmth she felt back then.

But then Nene remembers that he led her on too, making her feel stupid for hoping he liked her not just because he needs an assistant but because she means something to him. And her chest hurts more than ever before.

Unable to look at Hanako any longer, she lowers her head, trying to hide it between her crossed arms.

Surprisingly, the boy doesn't say anything at all.

It's so quiet that for an instant she thinks he has left, but then she feels a cold body enveloping her and she doesn't need to look to know that it's the ghost.

Nene actually wants to reject him, to yell at him to stop playing with her feelings, to stop pretending that he cares just because of the bond.

But she doesn't.

"Leave me alone" she whispers instead, knowing perfectly well that he won't listen.

"You know I would never leave you alone when you're like this" he just says, softly kissing her temple while caressing her head.

They stay like that for a while, Hanako holding her tight while she cries her heart out.

It's unfair, Nene thinks. It's unfair that a cold, stupid, kind ghost can make her feel so warm inside. It doesn't make any sense.

"You're unfair" she gives voice to her thoughts as she finally raises her head.

"Well, I need you to be more specific than that" he says jokingly, then with his thumbs he delicately wipes away the tears from her eyes.

Nene can feel her cheeks getting warm under his cool touch.

"Better?" then he asks smiling.

"Yes, I think.." that's the only thing she can answer because yes, she momentarily feels slightly better, but her heart still hurts at the thought that she's gonna die alone.

"I'm sorry if this morning I yelled at you. I have no rights to tell you that you can't go on a date" then he says, holding her hands.

"No, I should apologize for calling you a jerk and not listening to you. At the end you were right… I shouldn't have gone with Fuji-kun" she apologizes, looking at their intertwined fingers.

She wonders if Hanako is aware of the chaos he's creating in her head with these little affectionate gestures.

"He said my legs are too fat for him" then she confesses with a bitter smile, "it was written in my book and even if I knew it was coming, it hurt as hell."

Nene can feel the tears forming again at the corners of her eyes but she immediately wipes them away.

"Yashiro.."

Hanako squeezes her hand and "He's the real jerk. He doesn't deserve you" he declares.

"You're saying that just because I'm your assistant" she decides to confront him.

The ghost searches for any trace of irony in her face, but she looks away.

"What? Why would you say that?" he asks incredulously.

"Because it's true. Sometimes I feel like you only pretend to care about me because we're bonded".

"Yashiro, look at me" Hanako says, lifting her chin with his finger. "I don't know if you're joking or not but this is actually the stupidest thing I have ever heard in 60 years" he affirms.

Nene almost feels offended.

"First of all, why would I do that? Second of all, what would I get out of pretending to care for someone? I'm dead! This is so stupid" he seems actually angry.

"But-"

"I really, really care about you, Yashiro. I care way too much about you. I don't know how you could even think about something like that! Why do you think I'm always worried sick about you? Why do you think I'm always trying to protect you? For the same reason I didn't want you to go on that stupid date! It hurts me to see you hurt, ok? And it hurts me that you think so low of me" he concludes. It seems like he won't allow a reply.

"But Hanako-"Nene can't finish her sentence: it's a moment and her mouth is shut by a pair of cold, pink lips, interrupting her line of thought.

She's shocked and her head spins and her heart feels like it's exploding, but she doesn't pull away.

One of Hanako's hand reaches for her face, starting to caress her burning cheek while her mouth is cuddled by his soft, thin lips.

The kiss is brief and sweet and it's enough to make both a blushing mess.

Hanako is the first to pull back and he's as overwhelmed as Nene.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have kissed you without your consent! I'm terribly sorry!" he yells, getting more and more flustered.

"I" she says, trying to regain her mental abilities.

It was her first kiss. She finally gave her first kiss and it tasted like candies, donuts, summer festivals, fireworks and spaceships. It was perfect.

Nene feels like she could melt at any given moment.

"You shouldn't be sorry, I really liked it" she manages to say and in a spurt of courage she reaches for his lips once again. It's another gentle kiss, but it makes Nene heart race and the butterflies in her stomach go wild.

Hanako is melting too, how ironic. He takes his hat off and "now you understand why you shouldn't think that awful things?" he timidly asks, looking at the hat in his hands.

Nene blushes and nods vigorously, unable to say anything.

Then the boy visibly gulps, raising his look to meet her eyes.

"I know you're in a difficult place right now and that you're emotionally hurt and confused, but I really like you, Yashiro, and I'm sorry if you feel overwhelmed because of all of the stress I'm putting you through. I don't expect you to return my feelings or to give me an answer right away. I want you to take your time to think about it and to recover from your heartbreak. I really want to do things right with you, even if you decide to be just friends. I don't want you to take a decision you'll regret or to rush things. You're very special to me and I just want what's best for you. "

Nene can't help but tear up a little, really touched by the ghost's words. She doesn't really know what to say, feeling too much at once.

But she knows that she really likes Hanako.

"I sure hope this is a real confession" she says as she leaps into his arms, making him laugh.

"It is" he smiles at her, then he leaves a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a certain someone to torture" the boy grins pulling out his knife and making the most terrifying face Nene has ever witnessed.

"Tell me you're not planning to use that on Fuji-kun, please" she says pointing at the weapon.

".... Maybe?"

"Hanako!"

"Ok, ok, I won't torture him."

"Good"

"But maybe a little push down the stairs.."

At this point she just stares disappointed at him.

"So you don't want any kind of revenge?"

"No, I don't want to waste time on that jerk"

"Then we may have a problem…"

"What?"

"I told Kou about your date and he immediately went to that guy to beat him up"

"Kou WHAT?"

"Yeah.. I guess I'll go stop him, then" Hanako says as he disappears, leaving her a last kiss on her head.

Nene just stays there, staring at the spot where the boy disappeared with a blushing face and a storm of butterflies in her stomach.

And maybe there's still hope in her. Maybe she doesn't mind exposing her heart once again…

Because she has the feeling that this time, she will not regret it.

Also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304325

Hope you like it❤️

[ravensroleplays]

Well, this was a nice sight... The very last time Snatcher had seen his dear 'Princess' in life, she had him carried off to the dungeon to be imprisoned before cold and hunger took him. Now, thousands of years later, here Vanessa was, imprisoned before him. Okay, it wasn't one of Snatcher's own traps that had caught the ice witch, but he could still appreciate the irony. Or, well, he could if he weren’t so livid. "RELEASE ME!" The former queen demanded. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!" The specter, currently in his human form, squeezed his chin, as if in thought, then shrugged, giving the most shit-eating grin he could. "Nah." "WHAT?!" The ice-cold fury was obvious in Vanessa's voice, but Snatcher didn't even flinch. Why should he be scared of his former abuser anymore? He was far more powerful now. And what was more, he had companions. Friends, who already had already helped him out a loud. A family, who he would do anything short of going back to stealing souls again to protect. Plus, those strings his comrades had wrapped Vanessa up in proved to be really strong. Snatcher narrowed his eyes as he glared up at the woman...no, the creature he had once loved. "I got those flowers for you, you know." He remarked, his voice almost as cold as Vanessa's ice. "That day way back when, when you had me locked up to die." He dared to step a little closer, yellow meeting red as their eyes locked. "I was paying the florist when you came. And for that, you had me locked away." Another step or two closer. "I died, the entire KINGDOM died, because of a simple misunderstanding. Because of your irrational, insane, jealousy. Look around you, 'darling'!" It took all of Snatcher's self-control not to let out a humorless, bitter laugh as he waved an arm around their surroundings. "All of this is because of YOU!" Vanessa was still for a good, long time. And then, she did something that genuinely surprised Snatcher. She cried. "All I wanted was YOU!” Vanessa sobbed. "I wanted you back...there wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t miss you! I wanted to be with my prince again!” Her body shook a little more with sobs before waves of bitterness started to roll off of her.

"But what do I get for all my efforts?! All my magic?! An abomination that looks like it came straight from that accursed snake himself! I wouldn’t be surprised if that BEAST interfered with my spell somehow!”

Wait.

‘Snake’?

"Disgusting monstrosities, BOTH of them—that miserable little creature is better off DESTROYED!”

And like that, something inside Snatcher broke.

Whatever lingering attraction or affection he had left for this evil hag, even thousands of years later, was suddenly completely gone.

“...what did I ever see in you?”

"What?” The queen stared down at her ‘prince’ from where she was suspended in the air, and, before he could stop himself, Snatcher found himself laughing. Slowly at first, but then louder and harder, until he was clutching his sides.

“Not only are you manipulative, selfish, and unbelievably clingy and abusive, you’re as dense as they come!” Without waiting for Vanessa’s reaction, Snatcher pulled himself back up, his smirk only growing as he said “All these years later...and you still haven’t realized...”

And with that, his form grew and twisted as he changed back into his typical ‘noodle’ form, and he got the feeling that, if Vanessa still had a visible mouth, it would have fallen open as she screamed

"YOU?!” Snatcher held his arms out in a dramatic pose as he shouted

"SURPRISE!”

"You...all this time?!”

"I never left, ‘sweetheart’.” Snatcher confirmed as he loomed over Vanessa. "I just...changed a bit, since then.”

"You LIE!” Vanessa screamed, starting to flail in the strings. "You’re just trying to trick me! My Prince was sweet, and loving, and wonderful...he would never dream of defying me! You’re just...a MONSTER!”

Another harsh laugh escaped the huge ghost at that.

"I’m a monster?! I'm not the one who froze a whole kingdom full of people to death because I was having a hissy fit! And I'm not the one who tried to freeze one scared little girl solid, and treated another like garbage, since the day she was BORN, just for not turning out the way I’d hoped.” At that, his smile disappeared completely as he bared his fangs at Vanessa, fatherly instincts taking over again.

"You know, looking at it, maybe it’s a good thing we never had any kids together when we were both human...comes to find out you’re a terrible mother. You bring a new life into the world, a KID, and you act like she’s some horrible THING.” He shook his head in a gesture of mock pity, and Vanessa started to protest.

"She...IT, is! It just came out so wrong, so UNNATURAL...!”

"That doesn’t matter.” Snatcher snapped, crossing his arms. "She’s still a CHILD. A little girl who didn’t do anything to deserve the way you treated her. But you know what?” He raised an eyebrow. "You don’t want her? Fine. I'll take her...she was made from me, after all. She's just as much my daughter as the little girl I found as a baby and raised for seven years.”

With this, he loomed over his former love even more, narrowing his eyes at her.

"And if you do anything to hurt either of them, or any of my kids, ever again, I’ll make you WISH you’d perished along with everyone, and everything else all those years ago.”

With that, he turned to rejoin the others.

The specter was surprised to find how much...lighter he felt after that experience. It took a LOT longer than he would have probably liked, but he could now safely say that he had completely moved on from that evil woman.

And yeah, his hands might not have been clean, but at least he had been able to realize when he’d fallen too far, and start changing himself for his own sake, and the people around him, something Vanessa had proven herself far too selfish to do, no matter how much time had passed.

Whatever. Her loss...she had no one to blame for her isolation but herself. Let the former queen rule over her big, empty manor.

As for Snatcher...well, he had to get back to his family. ALL of them.