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hoodlessmads · 1 year ago

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Dark Heir spoiler thoughts:

Okay some of these are criticisms but please understand I really liked it! I liked it even more than Dark Rise. I’m just an overdramatic person and need to yell sometimes.

These don’t have any particular order, I’m just freestyling -

Reading Captive Prince years ago (and rereading since) before reading Dark Rise made me have an unfair resentment towards James for being basically the same character as Laurent but not as good and that continued here

Will is the second best character Pacat has ever made after Laurent and book 3 might push him ahead

I loved seeing Will use more and more of his evil powers

The best one being where he possesses anyone with a brand and his eyes turn black and he turns into Legion (maybe shoulda turned that off before trying to appeal to Violet…)

Finding out his mom actually was tying him to bedposts and beating him this whole time somehow shocked me because for some silly reason I believed one of the most unreliable third person subjective narrators ever, Will, that she was a nice lady just doing her best. Anyway I love this revelation because it makes such perfect sense, it’s just, “Oh. Of course.”

Violet and Cyprian are both himbos yet Violet is somehow the only character with a single brain cell left at the end of the book

Cyprian drinking from the cup makes no sense after they had a whole discussion in the first book about how drinking from the cup put the Stewards into the Dark King’s plans and made them his thralls and was the entire reason they died, a massacre which Cyprian experienced viscerally, and then he goes and drinks from the cup anyway and oops surprise Will can in fact enthrall him. Cyprian is able to fight it off but that doesn’t change the complete recklessness and out-of-character-ness of it to me.

Violet/Cyrprian is a good ship

Phillip/Visander is hilarious (in a good way)

Will/James is fine but I wish I was more compelled by them than I actually am. For being the main couple, I don’t feel like their relationship has been given the room it needed to develop organically and instead it feels like we’re falling back on physical attraction and a vague shadow of a past relationship in the old world that we didn’t get to see. It’s hard not to compare to Damen/Laurent which by contrast was developed so painstakingly.

Elizabeth is incredible

Visander sucks, actually

The whole Light kind of sucks. The Stewards, the Sun Kingdom, they were all assholes

People with black-and-white morality are truly terrible, aren’t they? And pretty much everyone is like that except for Will, James, and Violet

Sometimes I felt like that fact was really being hammered in on purpose almost as though to make James murdering like 300 people seem less bad (but it didn’t….)

But I don’t dislike James because he murdered 300 people, I actually love villains and I especially am attached to the idea of everyone being redeemable. But what I don’t like is the book telling me I should like James without giving me a good reason or the book downplaying his actions to make him seem more sympathetic. He can have murdered all the Stewards and still be compelling, we don’t need to diminish what he’s done in order for him to be likable

Also everyone in this book except like, Will and maybe Violet and James is an idiot (and I’ll excuse Elizabeth for only being ten). Someone send these characters to Psych 101, they don’t seem to understand the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy…

Like obviously if you tell someone they’re evil over and over again for their whole lifetime they will become evil

Theory - I don’t think Violet will turn on Will. I think she’s just shell-shocked. She wasn’t really given a chance to take a stance before James Peter Panned him away. Violet knows exactly what it feels like to be told you are evil because of some past thing, and she knows Will better than any of the other characters. And she knows that morality is not black and white (Tom is her brother). She’ll definitely end up in Will’s corner by the end.

Theory - The line of the Lady and the line of the Dark King are the same bloodline and they split off later. Sarcean’s “cataclysmic night together” with the Lady was mentioned not once but twice. Pacat doesn’t waste lines. The child that the Lady had was Sarcean’s, or at least one of them.

Will better figure out how to destroy that collar quick…before they both get even more traumatized. I think that will be one of his main goals in book 3. Or I hope…otherwise it will be hard to develop the genuine romance

I sure hope Will can also figure out how to expel that shadow from Cyprian before he like… dies. Don’t do that to Violet D:

So, I’m not a huge fan of YA in general (outside of YA anime and manga which for some reason hits different). I used to like it a lot, it used to be most of what I read. I grew up reading series like Redwall, Darren Shan, Demonata, Pendragon, and so on. But I’ve grown out of the genre (I’m 27). Not every adult does - one of my best friends who is a year older than me still really enjoys YA. But because I don’t like YA, I think my enjoyment of Dark Rise/Dark Heir is influenced and my criticisms may be unfair.

But I find that with fantasy series like this, I the books really need to be longer. Or there needs to be more of them. I feel like Dark Rise has so many moving pieces, enough characters that there could be a trading card game (and there are literally collectible cards), so many different magical artifacts and magical powers, an entire magical old world beneath the semi-magical 1820s Europe world to develop, and also by the way a whole story that took place 10,000 years ago that has to be told at some point. I find myself feeling like all these different elements are being introduced and moved on from too fast and I wish they were all given more time to breathe. I think that’s part of why the relationship between Will and James feels a bit rushed to me. I don’t know if the short length of the series was Pacat’s choice or an editor’s, though. I don’t feel like Captive Prince had this issue because there were no supernatural elements, the cast was much smaller, and the plot was comparably simple so a lot of it got to be characters just talking to each other, which was great, and the world building was accomplished mainly through these interactions. The plot and world of Dark Rise is much larger in scope but the page count is the same (a little longer maybe).

So wait who is Mrs. Duval

Why did Ettore leave the Stewards anyway? Other than the obvious, which is that they suck

Where was Grace during the whole ending scene? Wasn’t she there but just not saying anything. As this total calamity befalls her only remaining friend group she finally has seen too much and just nopes out and is busy making tea in the corner or maybe popcorn

I do really like Cyprian btw in spite of thinking his moral code is shitty. Gave Violet a chance but sold Will for one corn chip… I see how it is (okay that’s not fair but you know what I mean, he has flaws)

It sounds like I’m in the majority when I say that I still don’t like Devon - I saw that theory about him being the final big bad and I’m so on that train. I think he’d make a good enough final villain. I agree there is something predatory about him and Tom. I don’t necessarily think Pacat wants us to root for them as a couple, though. There were better ways to pull that off if that was the intent.

Not to repeat myself but Phillip was such a pleasant surprise. Like who is this fruit and how did he get here

So next book, I hope (assume) we get to see the rest of the old world story filled in so we can understand where it all went wrong for Sarcean and also the exact nature of his relationship with Anharion because so far it’s been quite vague (intentionally I assume). Like….. you know….. did he agree to put on the collar?

The tricky thing about this series is that once the reader learns that Will is the Dark King, it’s hard to maintain any sort of external tension. Right? It’s hard to feel afraid of the forces of the Dark when the protagonist has total effortless control over them just by virtue of who he is. Will can literally just be like, “No, don’t” and everything’s fine. He did just this at the end of Dark Rise. I find the way Dark Heir seems to end with their “only hope of stopping the Dark army” destroyed to be pretty unconvincing. Why on earth would Sarcean create a destructible object that is the only way of controlling his own army? Of course Will should be able to control them with his will alone. If he can control Shadow Kings and make them die with his words alone, why didn’t he try yelling at the shadow army to stop trying to possess people? This doesn’t make sense to me. And if people become Returners through his magic, shouldn’t he be able to exert some control over their existence the way he does with the branded? Pacat has done a good enough job at getting us to know Sarcean (an extremely good job btw) so as to make the destroyed brand plot point unbelievable. Anyway…

Instead, the tension in Dark Heir is almost entirely internal or realized in character relationships rather than physical threats. The tension is between Will and himself, and between Will and his friends. (There are tensions between other characters but focusing on the main plot here.) The possibility that they might find out and abandon him, and the possibility that he might actually be as nasty of a guy as Sarcean was, the slim chance that he might learn something that makes him go, “You know what, I agree with my past self after all.”

Now that everyone has found out who he is, that particular source of tension has sort of evaporated, so now in book 3 Pacat has to find a way to make Will’s conflict with himself and his friends compelling enough to carry us through 450 pages (I don’t expect this will be difficult). What I see as the problems now are 1) what was Sarcean actually planning and how did he plan on getting Will (himself) to fall in line with them (this was a question in Dark Heir as well but now it’s bigger), 2) how is Will going to destroy his own (Sarcean’s) Dark artifacts so he can free James, and 3) Can he convince anyone to ever love him (oh no ouch).

If I had to rank these books at this stage I’d probably give Rise a 3.7 ish…. and Heir a 4.2. I’m holding out for Dark King to be a 5 or close. (I don’t know what the actual title will be, I’m just guessing lol.) I definitely think Dark Heir is an improvement over Dark Rise since I always thought the most interesting part of the latter by far was everything that happened once Will learns he is the Dark King at the very end.

“Are we going to talk about the magic pseudo-sex scene—“ No and I hope we never will

#dark rise #dark heir #cs pacat #dark heir spoilers #will kempen #will is the beEEeEeSsst #let me know what you think

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esther-dot · 1 year ago

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Idk how attractive jon is supposed to be but he has the stark look and sansa has a thing for the stark look, i mean look at waymar and loras, their descriptions match jon's exactly. Sansa's opinion at the end of the day>>>

I love Sansa’s Waymar and Loras crushes! So cute! I kinda think a good part of what attracts Sansa to any given guy is the romantic notions she can attach to them, not strictly their physical appearance? So while I certainly agree with the Jon and Waymar parallels and think martin intentionally wrote similarities between Jon and her crushes, I believe her romanticized view of knight was a factor as well. Personally, I wish Martin talked about Sansa’s body/ how beautiful she is a lot less, so this isn't a topic I enjoy discussing, but the convo kicked off because of a poll and here’s a screenshot of my totally unremarkable tags:

And here’s what an angry Jon fan posted because they didn’t like the tags on the poll:

They go on to criticize other tags by Sansa fans/Jonsas, but mine were based on specific lines from the books because the question wasn’t vibes but canonical beauty, and it so happens, these are lines I am very fond of because I love NedCat:

And was it really such a terrible thing, to want a pretty wife? She remembered her own childish disappointment, the first time she had laid eyes on Eddard Stark. She had pictured him as a younger version of his brother Brandon, but that was wrong. Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages. Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together. And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. (ASOS, Catelyn V)

It’s a beautiful passage with a lovely sentiment, so I take exception to classifying this as petty fandom shit when there was nothing intentionally insulting behind what I said, I just think Cat's thoughts about a man she dearly loves were pertinent. Also, Jon’s Stark looks are a big R+L=J clue which is teased a lot in AGOT so it’s intentional and important:

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son. "What are you reading about?" he asked. (AGOT, Tyrion II)

Martin described Jon’s face the same way he does Ned’s here, although the point was ha ha! he has the Stark look not because of his father but because of his mother, Lyanna.

Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. (AGOT, Arya I)

Arya heard and whirled around, glaring. "I don't care what you say, I'm going out riding." Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful. (AGOT, Sansa I)

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. (AGOT, Sansa I)

"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her." (AGOT, Arya II)

Now, Ned goes on to say Lyanna is beautiful so a lot of fans really emphasize that and say it means Jon and Arya are/will be attractive, and maybe! It doesn't bother me for people to read it that way, but if you look at the other uses of long face in ASOIAF, or the Stark look, I think it indicates, it's not particularly attractive, and one might even say, it's unremarkable. I didn’t say ugly, its simply unexceptional imo. Obviously the horsey face/horse faced stuff is an insult so we don't have to take that to be a neutral assessment, but I don't think it actually means pretty either, not when you look at how it's used elsewhere.

Anyway, it doesn't matter if Jon is handsome or not because we all were supposed to have already learned that what matters is who he is, not his face. So, while I have no investment in how attractive/unattractive these characters are, I imagine that Jon being Jon is what will make Sansa fall for him, not how pretty he is. Something that might sound kinda like this:

I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's Jon's solemn face

#jonsa #nedcat #r+l=j #book jon #dot chat #discourse #< for filtering

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sillypiratelife · 1 year ago

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Sanji's fake confidence is everything to me what do you mean he is ridden by guilt and the need to be accepted and loved despite the many sins he thought he committed?!?!?!

It's insane 'cause over and over Sanji participates in those moments when the strawhats show to someone they love that they are worthy and they are good and they can have nakamas and they can be loved and they can become better and— Sanji thinks it all applies to others but forgets to remember that it applies to himself sometimes?

I'm not saying all his confidence is fake, since he knows he is good and he is proud of what Zeff taught him. He knows how good of a chef and a fighter he is, okay? But he has too many traumas with authority figures and parental figures...

He chases affection from women like a man who begs to be whole, to be loved, to feel appreciated. He throws himself into every opportunity to prove his love for his crew by sacrificing his wellbeing or even his life. For how much he acts like he thinks he is the most amazing man, he looks down on himself too much. Unlike Zoro, his doubts are not based on his skills (see the whole "I need to be an even better swordman" theme). Sanji thinks he's only worthy as a sacrifice. He must be killed if he stops being convenient. He lives to repay debts to the people who love him, like love is a transaction and not something freely given.

He's the perfect man but he reeks of desperation. All his bravado? It's enough to remember how he tried to leave Baratie and how he eventually broke down to know he's a soft man.

I think Sanji is too used to insulting the dudes he cares about and fussing over the girls he cares about and it's all a distraction.

Haha, you're stupid and you're a pain in my ass and I'd fight with you all the time and this is just a way of me avoiding to say I'd miss you terribly if you went away, because if I don't say the words then it won't hurt that bad when you finally leave me like I know you'll do. I don't want to show how attached I am to you, because my walls need to be always up with men. I've been tricked one too many times.

Haha, I totally charm you and show romantic and sexual attraction to you and I do everything to be your perfect man, the one you desire, the one you miss and love and care about. Look at me, please, look at me. Aren't I worthy of your love? Look my way, say you love me, shower me with affection. I would do anything to protect you, okay? Look, I'm so strong and brave and—

Sanji is not that different from Ussop, who keeps saying lies and projecting that desired version of themselves so they might be complimented. He's not different from Nami, who tried to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders in secret and was always faking a personality, until she met the strawhats and forgot the weight of her past and was able to enjoy herself, but ultimately she still felt terrible, like she wasn't worth all the trouble.

Sanji shares so many things with his nakamas...

Problems he would gladly help carry, but he won't let others shoulder his own burdens.

#shan blogs about one piece!#black leg sanji #one piece anime

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cosmicjoke · 1 year ago

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Hey there 👋👋

I have a question for you, (non ship related bc I am tired of that bs too)

But what do you think about Kenny and Kuchel and their relationship? He did visit her from time to time since we know that Kuchel told him she was pregnant and he suggested that she should abort Levi because the underground is a terrible place to raise a child. I always think how it was extremely selfish of Kenny not to tell Levi about his mother and who he actually was but I also understood that Kenny didn't want Levi to get too attached to him since he left him anyway. Do you think that Kenny ever regrets not visiting his sister more and talking to Levi about her?

Hi there, and thanks for the (non-ship) related ask, lol.

To answer your question, I think Kenny loved Kuchel, as much as Kenny was capable of loving anyone. But Kenny was also a genuine psychopath. He enjoyed killing people, and he did it, not out of necessity, but because it gave him pleasure. One has to question how much a person like that is actually capable of love.

I think Kenny might, somewhere in his heart, regret not visiting Kuchel more often. But then, he allowed his own selfishness to get in the way, more interested in carrying out his personal vendetta against MPs than he was in taking care of his sister. I just think Kenny was, ultimately, too selfish to really care enough about anybody. He could have taken Levi out of the Underground and given him a good life on the surface, but he chose not to, and then he just flat out abandoned him in the end.

Kenny was smart, and he understood himself well enough to know he wasn't father material. And why did Kenny know he's not father material? Because he knew he was too selfish to be a good father. Still, he could have adopted Levi out to a family on the surface that wanted a child. But then, that too would have required more effort than he was willing to give.

Basically, I think Kenny had a limited capacity to actually care about other people, and Kuchel was probably the only person he had any, genuine feeling for. He saved Levi from starvation most likely because he felt an obligation to his sister not to let her child die. But in so doing, he really did the bare minimum. His excuse of not being father material was weak at best, and just a flat out admission at worst that he never cared enough about Levi to put him before himself.

#Kenny Ackerman #Levi Ackerman #Kuchel Ackerman

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aragarna · 2 years ago

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Please rant about the new musketeer movie, I need to know how bad it is on a scale from Michael York to Mathew McFaydden, so I know if it's worth trying to hunt down a cinema or wait till it's out on dvd

Well.... The good news is, there's no flying ship in that one. Not sure where to put it though. It's not atrocious, but it's lacking something. I'm always happy to see my boys, and the cast is good. It is rather entertaining at times, and I'm sure people not as attached to the characters as I am might not be as harsh as me but... I guess I was hoping for more? For better? Why is it that there can't be a single decent modern adaptation?!

The rest under the cut because spoilers for The Three Musketeers: d'Artagnan

First, it's visually ugly. It's all in brown and dark tones. Apparently the weather in France is always bad, ranging from pouring rain to clouds and fog. Even the red robe of the cardinal doesn't pop up! And don't get me started on the musketeer's uniforms. Why is it that every single recent movie wants to make them something that they're not. We *know* what they looked like. Blue casaques with a big white cross. Would it look out of fashion today? Of course! Even slightly ridiculous? Maybe. But Mordious, that's a 17th century uniform! Just play along! So, in this one, it becomes a very dark navy blue long coat with a black cross on the arm. It's actually so indisguishable that you can never tell when they're wearing it or not.

But okay, fine, if it was the only issue, I would have waved it off. The rest of the costumes, though probably not historically accurate, look pretty cool over all. If only they had more colors. Can you believe that there's a costumed ball, with one character wearing an arlequin costume and ... it doesn't even look like rainbow-y!

(can you tell I'm slightly mad at the movie's terrible coloring?)

And overall, I felt it wasn't very well filmed. Like, this isn't just a swashbluckler, it's The Swashbuckler story, so gotta work on those sword fights! Give me some fancy fighting! Work a real choregraphy! I understand that this is not the Errol Flynn era anymore but come on. So their idea to make it more "modern" was to use sequence-shots for the fight scenes. That is not a bad idea, but when there's no real choregraphy to follow, that just makes everything messy and pointless. So yeah, disappointed with the action scenes.

My other major source of annoyment was the lack of character development, or just character moments. D'Artagnan flirting with Constance was fine, but it's *not* the main story. It should have been the friendship between our four heroes. Instead of adding a whole new plot, I wish they'd taken the time with the canon scenes. Show me more why they went from being this close to kill each other, to instant friends ready to die for each other. Making Porthos bisexual is fine. I don't mind modernization of characters, but did you have to tell and show me this very clearly 3 times, but then give him virtually no other line of dialogue the rest of the movie? Romain Duris as Aramis is particularly awesome, but the poor guy is just as useless. The film is such a waste of a good casting. D'Artagnan, the main character, barely gets more time. Where is my ever-resourceful, cunning, smart and quick thinking hero? Young and idealistic but also natural leader d'Artagnan? His scenes with Constance are cute enough (and I don't mind that they got rid of Mr. Bonacieux) but I wanted more bonding with the boys! It's called The Three Musketeers, not My Cute Landlady. François Civil does a decent job but he isn't given the most subtle text...

Athos is the only one that is allowed a bit more development, but he's reduced to be a sappy old man. AAARGH ATHOS IS NOT AN OLD MAN. I do like Vincent Cassel, but the movie comes out 20 years too late for him to be a musketeer. Athos is not old, he is just the only vaguely grown-up one of the group. And come on "I don't have enough will to live to lie." ?! What the Hell?

All the characters feel reduced to a single dimension.

And yes, I do realize that you can't fit hundreds of pages in two 2-hour movies, but still, I feel like there were ways to make the movie better if it had been more character-oriented. The only real good character is the King. He has all the best lines and Louis Garrell is perfect.

Finally, while I don't mind when they take liberties from the original story, I'm not sure that the whole side plot actually adds anything. If you're worried about lack of plots, just develop the exisiting ones instead of rushing them in and out of England, maybe? It's Alexandre Dumas you're adapting, don't tell me there aren't enough twists in that plot!

And what annoys me about that side plot is that it starts with Athos being arrested. Which means that, from the start, they're never all four of them together. Which also means that that one supposedly emotional letter from Athos sounds a bit phony. Why would he care for that young idiot that he met only once?

Let my musketeers be all together, Morbleu!

Anyway, to try and end on a more positive note: it does remain entertaining enough that you're not bored. They filmed in real places - Le Louvre looks actually like Le Louvre - which is always a bonus. Louis XIII is awesome, and all the court intrigues are probably the best parts. And they do have a second movie coming out this December to try and make up for that one. We can expect War! Love! Tragedy! Vengeance! (and hopefully more character development?)

Sorry, that was long. All this to say: meh.

#the three musketeers #the three musketeers d'artagnan #the three musketeers spoilers #movie rant

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catflowerqueen · 2 years ago

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It looks like Moon’s branch of the family is setting up some pretty interesting checks and balances, which might mean that this deal won’t work out quite so terribly as we all assumed… though still with a lot more death involved than Moon is likely to be happy with. Especially give how tired he still seemed today.

Like… KC not killing the trashcan guy seems to imply that he is willing to stick with his agreement to only go after “evil” people—since presumably what stayed his hand there was not knowing anything about the guy. Other than that he is baffling and might not actually be able to die?—and that also speaks volumes in that he probably isn’t actually lying or liable to turn on anyone he considers family without provocation. And everyone can bring something to the table and have at least one ally, even if there is mistrust.

As long as KC doesn’t harm Sun (and presumably Monty and Lunar—though I am curious about which branch of the tree KC considers to be Lunar’s, and whether he also considers them to be a son like Bloodmoon), the Moon won’t try to fight back—which would at the very least hinder KC’s movements slightly, and might also cause him to break any cover or disguise that Moon could provide (especially in terms of magic, which KC might not know/be able to concentrate on enough to perform). Bloodmoon is unlikely to hurt Moon directly both because KC told them not to and because harming Moon would harm KC—who they are so adorably attached to and have really leaned into the role of his kids. And by the same token they aren’t likely to overtly hurt Sun either beyond causing more general mischief like they’ve already been doing. And Eclipse is in a bind and might be willing to be more conciliatory toward Moon simply because he is pretty much the only other sane and stable animatronic of the bunch and might be willing to put his animosity with Eclipse aside at least momentarily if their goals align.

On Bloodmoon’s end, they already adore KC and thus are more willing to do as he asks by default, especially because most of what he asks aligns with their own desires. At the same time, they are willing to keep Eclipse’s words in mind and be cautions and don’t seem to have any massive issues with getting KC if he does one day cross a line. They hate Eclipse, but won’t kill him because KC said no and they value his deal more—and do find Eclipse useful in certain situations. And they honestly don’t really seem to have that much of a problem with Moon? Sure they were game for killing him, but that’s more because they just generally like chaos more than it being anything actually personal. Same for Sun and finding him annoying, really.

Eclipse is just in it to save his own skin and further his own goals, but the only one of the bunch that actually seems to like him a modicum is KC—who still seems to find him annoying even then—because he considers him his kid, so while he can bide his time the only one who might listen to him is Moon. And, honestly, given what Lord Eclipse was up to, he probably wouldn’t object too harshly to being on “evil people look out” duty, especially if he’s the one getting to pick the targets.

And KC basically just wants a big happy family with his kids and brother. He’ll stop his kids from turning on each other, and seems to want to bring Moon into the fold, too, even if he doesn’t like his more “peaceful” methods (though his words about Moon just “pretending” does make me think he considers himself and Moon to be more similar than Moon wants to admit—and the high value both of them put on family does give that idea some merit), but I get the feeling he won’t hesitate to attack or mete out punishment if he thinks the need calls for it.

My only worry is where Lunar would fall on the scale. In terms of morality, Lunar’s is still a bit whacky—they definitely still look to Sun and Moon for what is considered “good,” and while they to do things that would set good examples for the kids (whom they adore), they also don’t seem to have much of a problem with bending or breaking rules? Like… they know what and when things are violent, and did even back when they were still with Eclipse, but just didn’t necessarily seem to care. They like chaos just as much as the rest of the Moon branch does and aren’t averse to things like violence even if they don’t usually participate in it themself. And even though they hate Eclipse, they do still have tenuous ties with Bloodmoon and considers Moon to be their brother. And if KC actually approached them again and clarified that why they didn’t want Monty to take them was due to considering them family—another child of his, most likely—then I think they would be willing to accept the label even if they didn’t actually want to join in on the “bonding activities.” But at the same time… KC hasn’t actually mentioned them at all, and might consider them to be part of the Sun branch—and even though KC acknowledges that Moon considers Sun his brother, KC’s tone pretty heavily implied that he didn’t see Sun as his brother as well. Which isn’t all that great for Lunar.

Though it still wouldn’t be smart of KC to try anything, since hurting Lunar would mean an immediate retaliation from Moon, the same way as would happen if he tried to hurt Sun.

…Point is, if Bloodmoon doesn’t go off the rails, then this deal might actually be pretty functional.

As to the aftermath and what we can expect from the future—I hope the reunion with Sun, Lunar, and Monty goes well. At this point Moon still likely thinks Sun hates him and was putting up a façade, and he needs to hear the truth from the real Sun as well as ascertain Lunar’s safety. And I feel like Moon is going to insist that there be some safeguards put up to protect his brothers, because he is likely going to be understandably wary about the possibility of KC or the others hurting them even despite the deal. I could see Moon suggesting that he move out, even, just to make things extra safe for the two of them. Or possibly ask after some of Monty’s contingencies. Which would be understandable, but very sad.

I really do hope they come up with a solution soon. Because this whole thing is just bringing up Moon’s trauma once again.

On a more positive note, though, the computer isn’t mad at him—which is good, since that’s one of the things I was worried about. It even wished him luck at the end, which was great.

#SAMS #sun and moon show #fnaf security breach

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solo-ojo-jojo · 1 year ago

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Sea Change - A Sanditon Fanfic

Sanditon Fanfiction｜Charlotte Heywood/James Stringer｜Ch 1 of ?｜1.3K｜Rated G｜Season One Alternate Take｜Developing friendships｜Friends to lovers

Story summary: Charlotte chances upon Mr Stringer on her way to the carriage to London. He insists upon going with her to find Georgiana, and their futures are forever changed.

I've written my first fic for Sanditon! It takes place at the end of s01e05 when Charlotte decides to set out on her own to rescue Georgiana.

Read an excerpt below the gif set from @heywood-stringer, or jump on over to AO3 to read it now!

Original gif set here

An uncommonly heavy rain had reached Sanditon overnight, the swift winds and steady drops bringing a rise to the sea level and delaying travel to and from the seaside town.

Frustrated by those delays and determined as ever to right what had gone so terribly wrong, Miss Charlotte Heywood may as well have been wearing horse blinders as she made her way past the construction site on her way to the carriage bound for London.

“Miss Heywood?”

She stopped promptly at hearing her name called.

Charlotte placed a hand on her bonnet, squinting to see past the rising sun as she looked up to find the man attached to the voice. “Mr Stringer,” she greeted, adjusting her position so she could see him more clearly. “My apologies. I did not mean to pass by without saying hello. I seem I find myself rather distracted at the moment.”

He studied her countenance, noting the effort that went into forcing a pleasant smile to cover her furrowed brow. “If I may say so, you seem more distressed than distracted,” he said, his voice low and laced with concern. “Is everything all right, Miss Heywood?”

“I am, of course, troubled by Miss Lambe’s abduction.”

“Of course,” he repeated softly. “I know that she has become a good friend to you.”

“No one has heard word of her since you delivered the news that she was taken by those men instead of meeting Mr Molyneux as planned.” She fidgeted with the strap of her reticule as she avoided letting on the true reason for her worry. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr Stringer, I must be going.”

Charlotte did not wait for a response from Mr Stringer before taking off in the direction of the coach house.

But Miss Heywood’s evasive nature seemed so unlike her that Mr Stringer’s concern had only increased. He would not be satisfied until he was assured that Miss Heywood was no longer in distress and he wasted no time in following after her.

“May I ask where you are going with such haste?”

She looked over her shoulder, then turned towards him and quieted her voice. “I am on my way to London to retrieve Miss Lambe.”

“I see. And what did the Parkers have to say about this?”

“I have left word for Mrs Parker of my mission,” she offered nonchalantly.

Mr Stringer nodded and continued to walk alongside her in silence as he decided on what to say next. “Is there anyone accompanying you, Miss Heywood?” he asked, trying to match her casual tone.

“I am travelling alone.”

“Miss Heywood…” James considered how his words might be received before he continued speaking. “I appreciate that you are more concerned with the safe return of your friend than with your own safety. But I do not think it is wise to go in search of Miss Lambe of your own accord.”

“I thank you for your concern, Mister Stringer, but I am more than capable of travelling to London by myself.”

“I have do doubt of that, Miss. But once you arrive in London… Do you have a plan for locating Miss Lambe?”

“I–” Charlotte paused as she considered his question. She lifted her chin defiantly as she spoke. “I shall start with locating Mr Molyneux. I have his address from our correspondence.”

“If you will allow me to say so, Miss Heywood… Given the nature of Miss Lambe’s disappearance, I fear that this could be a dangerous situation you find yourself in.”

She left out a huff and resumed her quickened pace towards her destination. “I am determined to see that my friend is safe. You will not deter me from my journey.”

His long strides allowed him to easily catch up with her. “I apologise if you have misunderstood me, Miss Heywood. For I do not wish to deter you from going in search of Miss Lambe. I wish to accompany you and see that you both have a safe return to Sanditon.”

...

Continue reading on AO3

#sanditon #sanditon fanfiction #charlotte heywood #james stringer #young stringer #charlotte x james #stringlotte #season 1 alt take #read on ao3 #by soloojojojo #Sea Change - Sanditon #friends to lovers #regency romance #no beta we die like men #soloojojojo fics

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bungoustraypups · 7 months ago

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tl;dr: you have a good point here, but the reply is also correct and the response is unnecessarily dismissive. anything that tries to compare the training wild animals in captivity do for zoological reasons (or otherwise) to the training domestic animals who frequently interact with lots of humans on a daily basis, some of whom they may never have met before, is going to fall extremely flat and i'm unsure why you seem to think that reblog was somehow silly when it's... common sense

so this response feels... incredibly disingenous. bc the reblog has a HUGE point that's failing to be noticed here.

i agree, a lot of the behavioral tools we use on our pets is 100% unnecessary and sometimes harmful. if you declaw your cat, and you know what declawing actually is? you're going to see me in your house and it won't be a friendly visit.

but there are things that domesticated animals who are frequently around humans simply cannot be allowed to do. there are times where they must have their behavior corrected and addressed appropriately and with compassion, but sometimes this includes being what you might call "unkind"

i have grown up with mostly cats and dogs my whole life, i'm almost 26 now (in september i will be). you cannot allow a dog to simply wander off as it chooses or decide when it wants to listen to you. you cannot allow a cat to choose not to use a litterbox in your home. you cannot allow a cat or dog or any pet to wander about the counters where humans eat because they are gross and carry diseases on them which can severely harm and kill us at any age, and some which carry more risk when the person is very young or old or disabled/ill or pregnant etc etc

we had to train our pit/lab mix, pascal, not to jump on people because i live with two elderly people. if she jumps on them, there is a HUGE chance they could be severely injured, or possibly even killed. she'd also no doubt get put down if she so much as snapped her jaws in the air at a small child with an overprotective parent who thinks pit bulls are murder machines. but even if she wasn't a pit mix, you cannot allow a dog who lives in close proximity with humans to exhibit behaviors that are dangerous to humans

note for the following: pascal was not an intentional acquisiton, i found her running around abandoned in a parking lot and my grandpa fell in love with her, my plan was to foster and rehome but given how attached he got and how attached she also got to him, that plan was understandably scrapped

i can promise you the responder is not saying they don't use a leash when walking their dog. but, probably like the responder, i had to train pascal not to run out of the door when it was opened. some folks can have their housemates hold their at-present untrained dog when they go out of the door, but i didn't have this luxury as my housemates are, as mentioned above, elderly. i can't have pascal leashed 24/7 indoors or outdoors, that's not practical nor is it fair to her and can also cause issues with understanding what the leash means ("time to go outside" "why am i wearing it inside then?" yknow). i had to train her to not do that

pascal's recall, admittedly, is still kinda terrible. her housetraining is too, but both of those are for reasons outside of our control. and both can be fixed with time, and will be once life isn't trying to kill all of us constantly

nobody's saying to be cruel to or abuse animals in the name of training them. there's plenty of nice, compassionate, kind ways to train all manners of animals. it's not a bad thing to ask yourself if your animal really needs something just bc society says so, too! there's a lot of stuff they don't need to be made to do or given or trained to do etc etc that a lot of owners think they do

most ppl who declaw their cats do so for convenience, for example, and bc they don't understand that there's cheaper, easier, and much less torturous ways of preventing scratching your furniture than literally removing their first joint of their toe, which most of them don't know is what declawing entails, and apparently most vets who practice declawing don't freely give this information. unless it's a medical necessity as determined by a vet, i don't think declawing, cropping, or docking of animals should ever be done, period. cosmetic changes to animals are ridiculous and the only ones i think are okay sometimes are silly harmless ones like when i put my old cat mischief in a raven costume for halloween, or sometimes when people paint their dog's fur with non-toxic dog-safe paint or whatever, not permanent changes that serve no purpose other than for our eyes to look at

an orca is not the same as a domestic animal. i shouldn't have to tell you this but apparently i do, given the response. orcas in captivity (who, btw, shouldn't be in captivity at all given we don't know how to properly care for them and i cannot think of a single organization with them right now in the world who is truly invested in learning how to do that bc we all know seaworld ain't shit and the others internationally aren't much better from what i've scoped out, i could be wrong and things mighta changed but yk) can be allowed to do things that simply cannot be allowed in a domestic cat or dog or livestock animal etc for the simple reason of you will never need to hire someone to look after your pet orca while you're on vacation, but you might need to for your pet or your farm etc etc, and your animal should know how to behave so as to not make their life a living hell

using spray bottles on a cat isn't evil or cruel also, lmao. it's not a tool that should be used excessively, but when you have little assholes who are too young to know why they should care about not chasing each other onto the tv stand with the $400+ television we can't afford to replace, sometimes you gotta whip it out before disaster happens. my older kitties understand what "no" and "get down" mean, but the five young boys playing tag frequently have yet to learn this - or, at least, have yet to understand that when daddy says "no" or "get down" he means do it now - given they're all about eight months and younger and basically entering teenage years, so they get the bottle sometimes. at worst, it disgruntles and mildly bothers them for a maximum of five minutes before they forget about it and do something else. it also teaches them to be more cautious around the television (i'm serious, i've seen the behavioral change, it just takes a while and isn't all at once), and they need to jump down and/or stop what they're doing when i reach for a bottle-shaped object. half the time i don't even need to use it, they just stop and that's all i need them to do, they don't need to get down as long as they're not at risk of property destruction

also the only reason that happens with cetaceans in captivity is, ironically, because of what you said: you literally cannot force them to do it, at least not without risking major harm to yourself. otherwise people would do it. you can't pick up an orca and put it in a carrier to take it to the vet. you can, however, do this with a cat, and you should, because cats are - gasp - more at risk of developing injuries and diseases due to their prevalence and environment and proximity to humans and therefore need to go more often, and also so they can get yearly vaccines they need to prevent disease spread etc

animals often have to be forced into doing what's best for them because it's impossible to explain it to them. i'm sure my boys would love being able to run free through the front yard off-leash! however i'm also sure they'd hate getting hit by a car or eaten by an unruly dog or carried off by a hawk or killed by another cat -insert all the ways feral cats die here- so on and so forth. but since they're cats and i can't explain this to them, that means i have to be the meanie who blocks them from running out the front door with my foot for two seconds when i bring the groceries in, and they'll act like miette about it for a bit ("you KICK chungus like the football?!") before forgetting it ever happened. the tradeoff here, of course, is that they remain safe and i don't have to face the trauma of losing one of my babies in a preventable accident or occurrence because they ran outside into the road and were killed in a split second

there are reasons why we don't treat pets like we do zoo animals, and not all of them are terrible

Learning anything about marine mammal training will make you re-evaluate so much of your relationship with your own pets. There is so much force involved in the way we handle domestic animals. Most of it isn’t even intentional, it just stems from impatience. I’m guilty of it myself!

But with the exception of certain veterinary settings where the animal’s health is the immediate priority, why is it so important to us that animals do exactly what we want exactly when we want it? Why do we have to invent all these tools and contraptions to force them to behave?

When a whale swam away from a session, that was that. The trainer just waited for them to decide to come back. If they flat out refused to participate in behaviors, they still got their allotment of fish. Nothing bad happened. Not even when 20-30 people were assembled for a procedure, and the whale chose not to enter the medical pool. No big deal. Their choice and comfort were prioritized over human convenience.

It’s almost shocking to return to domestic animal medicine afterwards and watch owners use shock collars and chokers and whips to control their animals. It’s no wonder that positive reinforcement was pioneered by marine mammal trainers. When you literally can’t force an animal to do what you want, it changes your entire perspective.

I want to see that mindset extended to our domestic animals.

#me #my voice #animals #my pets

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rinnsverse · 1 year ago

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COFFEE: special.02 — fun facts

COFFEE: tim drake x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Tim meets a barista that gives him what he needed most — a large coffee with way to many shots of espresso. Though what happens when just a single action changes the other's life, forever?

coffee master list

assuming you have gone through the whole of my coffee smau — here’s some things that you might’ve not known, my headcanons, and external info

PLAYLIST: coffee — i made a playlist that i think fit this smau or just tim in general, so feel free to listen

coffee pg.00 was originally meant to just be a one-shot but I had the bright idea to turn it into a smau since I had been really interested in them at the time and I had already created the main casts profiles so i saw no reason to not go through with it

originally reader was supposed to be adopted and have 2 moms but I didn’t know if you guys would necessarily want that or how relatable that would be so I scrapped it and went with unnamed overbearing mother and father

i actually had this idea back in December of 2022 and meant to post it on wattpad yes ik laugh at me but i didn’t have the guts to do so and I already had a lot of unfinished work that will remain unfinished

this smau also sprouted up bcuz i had gotten back into the dc rabbit hole bcuz of this goddamn site

I had also originally planned for reader to give Tim a sticky note attached to his coffee that said something along the lines of: “Good luck with whatever you need 8 shots of espresso for :)” but I for some reason didn’t so the special note at the end of the pages didn’t rlly make any sense

tim might be a genius but he has a terrible sense of direction which is multiplied tenfold when he’s sleep deprived, hence why he almost dropped you off at the wrong apartment once — pg.04

duke being readers bsf happened cuz i personally believe duke deserves more content about him

duke also always somehow manages to be the messenger bird whenever both you and tim have a fight given how tim's first resort is the silent treatment and you're petty enough to give it back so the most the two of you ever communicate during that time is through duke — pg.15

on that same note harley has become your couple counselor which always manages to become awkward due to the sole fact tim is trying his best to subtly glare at harley since she has repeatedly tried to break his kneecaps when he was on red robin duty; again, petty

this was written by a person who has never worked at a coffee shop before so if you see and inaccuracies and have worked at one, feel free to call me out on it — not so i can fix, but bcuz i find my mistakes hilarious dont ask why, i just do

i still struggle on how i format the titles of the pages and always have to look back on my previous posts to remember how i typed things out

i also suck at developing feelings and crushes with characters so if it seems rushed or sucks that will be my one and only excuse given the fact that i find it extremely hard to even gain a crush irl

nothing was proofread

tims favorite taylor swift album is evermore i may or may not make seperate headcanons about that later

planning on posting a wattpad version of this fic sometime this year, i am still debating on starting an ao3 acc since the only thing i ever do on there is simply just read fics and im not sure if i like/understand ao3's format enough to start tho

TAGLIST: @grandstrangerphantom @marsbars09 @fabitheraven @lovelypitasworld @dyjcksn @mae77eris @sugarrush-blush @djchik @soundsfunbutno @apizzacalledmel @strangetrashblog @cipheress-to-k-pop @harleycao @unhingedtimdrake @a-homosexual-homosapien @aquarii-doodles @love-stay @criminallycan @hecate-frenchfries @job-ross-the-second

#coffee ☕️ - tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader #coffee shop au #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam #batfamily #tim drake

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gffa · 3 years ago

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Honestly, the older I get, the more I understand the Jedi philosophy.

It’s like,as a teen- how can you just sit there and do nothing?! People are in trouble! And what the heck do you mean attachment, friends are important!!!

As a twentyish year old- okay, this is a sort of bad situation, but you still have to do something- and who the heck thinks having a former slave relive slavery for character building is a good thing?! (It was either a novel or a comic, I just noped right out because that was handled really badly by the author)

As a semi-mature adult- okay, emotions can really cloud your judgment, even the subjectively good ones. The philosophy the Jedi are based on is a good one, just a little bit different from what I’m used to, and the more I learn the better I understand the story! And a great part of me learning the story is thanks to your blog! So thank you for your efforts, they aren’t going to waste!

Of course, I still relapse on occasion, mostly when something hits me as wrong- the kadavo arc brought back my frustrations because the whole ‘exposure therapy’ or ‘flooding’ rarely works when it’s a controlled environment and the patient can tap out safely, because it’s more likely to re-traumatize a person and set back their recovery greatly. So having the council think it’s a great idea just kinda makes me 😡.

Again: Thank you so much for the information you provide!

It's interesting that I've talked to more than a few people who started out with the whole "the Jedi are a cult" and "the Jedi kind of brought this on themselves" and "they abused Anakin" train of thought and I'm one of them, too. I watched the movies when I was young, I didn't really have a lot of thoughts about them, Jedi good, Sith bad, etc. Then I got into fandom and saw people saying how the Jedi were really terrible and that was actually what you were supposed to understand when you really thought about it and I completely believed it. And then I got into rewatching the movies and watching TCW and reading Lucas interviews and waaaaait the Jedi don't actually seem that bad... well, they still needed to change, but... well, what were they supposed to do... wait, they're based on Buddhism, oh, that does change how I see them... wait, they're actually being really nice to Anakin in this scene and never took him to task unless he'd just fucked up real bad??... and, well, here I am. It's also true that, the older I get, the more I vibe with the Jedi's approach to emotions--you're not supposed to suppress them, but you need to be mindful of them, you need to let that shit go, because it will poison you otherwise. I was so, so angry when I was young. I was angry every day and the longer it went on, the more I would just seethe at people, the more I would wallow in the bad things happening to me, the more I would just be relentlessly negative. All of it was justified in any given example, but I was so fucking miserable. I was losing friends because they couldn't deal with it. I hated myself and everything. I realized I had to let go of my anger, no matter how justified it was. I still have things to be furious about today, in my personal life and in my online life and in the world around me, and there are days I handle it better than others. But every day I have to keep examining my feelings, acknowledging them, and not letting them consume me. Because that way only lies misery for me. So, the Jedi don't have to be perfect, literally nobody should be held to the standards of being perfect, nobody is 100% pure sunshine, because that's purity culture garbage. But they were genuinely trying, they were in shitty circumstances and not given correct info all the time, like, are we talking about Anakin going undercover with the Zygerrians? Because I think they trusted Anakin to tell them if he wasn't ready to do this, it wasn't meant to be exposure therapy, but that they believed he could handle it, that he might struggle with his anger about it, but if it was too traumatizing, he would say so. And he wasn't alone, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were there to help him and keep an eye on him. It's not a perfect solution, nothing in the galaxy at that point in time was perfect, because there weren't really any good solutions. And my response isn't to try to browbeat you into agreeing or say that you're wrong, more to explain my view of things (since we're dealing with my inbox and all 😂) and why I sympathize with the position everyone was put in and why I don't think the Jedi were the worst ever or whatever. Sometimes we just disagree on things, interpret things differently, and as long as we're friendly to each other as real people (which you have been very sweet about in this message, thank you! I hope I can return it and my apologies if not), we'll be fine. And thank you for the reminder that, even if we disagree on some stuff, there are people who are fine just not seeing eye to eye and still understanding that the other person is kind and thoughtful and has their reasons, I really needed that today.

#jedi order #meta

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

#Jangosoka #time travel #Jango Fett #Ahsoka Tano #slavery tw #drugs tw #Phoenix Posts #I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today #anyway have a nonsense

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grapecherry · 3 months ago

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disclaimer: no hate intended at all and totally just my own opinion!

but i thought it was a really interesting take on a motive! for it to be completely unrelated from the Prepared motive. it felt intrinsic to his character and how an anxiety disorder (*my personal interpretation of ace) would affect the mentality of an individual in such a fucked up situation. it seemed respectful and true to everything we were shown about him, along with his interactions throughout the chapter and how that heightened his paranoia to a breaking point (veronika’s threat during his argument with nico, nico genuinely attempting to murder him, etc.). and it’s acknowledged by j that the cast was inconsiderate of ace having a breaking point. that breaking point also felt foreshadowed in ace’s monologue earlier in the chapter where he said something along the lines of “you think i don’t care and just go back to my room like nothing matters? like nothing affects me?” (terrible paraphrasing but hopefully it’s close enough 😭).

as for eden, i think the min parallels were really important too! just kind of in the opposite direction i guess? it felt substantial for teruko’s development and similar to ace, i also thought it was faithful to eden’s character, especially since her authentic feelings on kindness were established from the beginning of the chapter. for me, it didn’t feel like a betrayal was being set up, but that a thematic climax was being built up, which i felt was eden and teruko’s trial convo. and slightly less relevant, but it also would have felt off to me if eden died before we were able to discover some context for her holding the bloody fork, but that might just be a personal thing AHSJSJKS.

and as for the development, i didn’t really feel as though she developed per se, but just that we were given more context on her worldview. and even though it was done in more subtle ways, i feel like i gained just as much context for ace’s throughout the chapter too! and as much as i hate to see him go (bc i am so attached to all of these characters 😭😭), i think it was written in a way that respects his character and satisfies his arc <3

again, no hate at all to your perspective! your post just gave me a good base to articulate some thoughts i was having 🫡🫡

Drdt ch2 ep15 spoilers

WHAT DO YOU MEAN ACE IS THE KILLER???

NO ACTUALLY CUS WHAT???

WHAT ABOUT ALL THE EDEN DEVELOPMENT??? WHAT ABOUT THE BETRAYAL THAT WAS BEING SET UP??? THE MIN PARALLELS???

WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING POINTING TO EDEN???

AND HIS MOTIVE WAS BECAUSE HE SCARED OF DYING???? WHAT??

IM NOT HATING ON THE DRDTDEVS WE LOVE THEM FOR GIVING US THIS SERIES BUT-

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!

#ace ilysm im so sorry 😭😭#drdt spoilers #danganronpa despair time spoilers #ace markey #eden tobisa #cyrus.post

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xanadontit · 2 years ago

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You can block the “holiday movie fun” tag if these are annoying, btw.

@legendofthehiddenbbc Suggested 12 Dates of Christmas and Mistletoe and Menorahs so I watched them on Hulu with commercials because that is my dedication to the cause! Also I lead a sad life.

12 Dates of Christmas stars Amy Smart with Mark-Paul Gosselaar as her love interest. Spoiler: he’s widowed. Seriously guys what the fuck. Anyway, Amy is hung up on her ex but agrees to a date with MPG after being set up by her stepmom (oh yeah, HER mom is also dead). On the way, she’s dosed by an over-zealous perfume counter girl, passes out, comes to, and goes about her day. The date sucks. Her ex has moved on. She falls asleep in her childhood bedroom but at the stroke of midnight she reawakens on the floor of the department store and is destined to keep re-living the day. Like Bill Murray, she takes advantage of the knowledge she has about the day to have some fun and unleash some frustrations. Somewhere in there she sorts out her issues with her ex, makes peace with her family, acts as a matchmaker for people around her, and gets with MPG.

This was super predictable which is what we need in these unprecedented times, but with the added bonus of taking place in a city! What? 5/5 Winter Coats for the comfort and the 2010s fashion realness.

Mistletoe and Menorahs might be an actual hate crime. The plot centers on Christy, a self-proclaimed Christmas fanatic and marketing/business lady with a douchebag bro boyfriend, who is asked to give a big pitch at her client’s holiday party on December 24th. Christy agrees happily, thinking she’s going to nail it. Her coworker/friend breaks the news that the client is Jewish - it’s a Hanukkah party! OH NO. Christy doesn’t know jack shit about Hanukkah or that Jewish people even exist! Don’t worry: coworker/friend has a solution in the form of her son’s Jewish teacher, Jonathan, who will be her Hanukkah tutor. In exchange, Christy will teach him about Christmas before he meets his goyfriend’s dad.

OK so this could be cute but mostly it feels like everyone in this movie has a TBI. Christy and the goyfriend (don’t get too attached to her) keep referring to the food and traditions as “random” (YIKES) and Jonathan acts like he has never seen a Christmas tree, nor has he ever wrapped a gift of any sort. Given how pervasive Christmas is I find it hard to believe he’s completely oblivious? If he is, then honestly good for him. Seriously.

The obvious happens when they ditch their crappy partners and Jonathan accompanies Christy to the big pitch/party which is basically a black-tie gala and not only does she nail the pitch (with a toy line of maccabee action figures no I am not joking) but she is asked to light the menorah and lead the group in prayer, which she does perfectly, of course. Side note: how pissed would you be if your spouse was like “hey I’m inviting a bunch of business associates to come to our family party and I’m letting some random lady take part in our cultural traditions and oh yeah we’re having a business meeting too” because I’d be outta there so fast.

Big twist though: in another room we find a Christmas Wonderland. The client’s wife is Christian! Their home includes all traditions! Again: nice sentiment but why is Christmas always the default? (I know why.)

0/5 Winter Coats for doing the whole “Hanukkah is Jewish Christmas” thing and terrible acting and pretending like loving Christmas is a personality.

#holiday movie fun

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years ago

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Just The Way You Are

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list prompt: horns and fangs

Jaskier has never understood why people call witchers monsters. It's true, they're different, but so are cats and dogs and horses and people like them just fine. Jaskier just sees Geralt as Geralt and always has. He's no different than any other person he's met - a little more coordinated and he dies a little less easy - but otherwise the same. People are so cruel and dismissive of Witchers, but Jaskier is a firm believer that they deserve nice things as much as the next person, maybe even more, and so, he decides to take it upon himself to do nice things for Geralt. Like surprise him in Kaedwen when he comes down from the keep.

Only it turns out Jaskier is the one to get a surprise. He's never understood why people call Witchers monsters. Not until now.

He spots the hooded figure passing between shops and he's sure it's Geralt, but he doesn't want to approach until he's absolutely certain. So he sneaks between the buildings, trying to get ahead of him and catch a glimpse of his face. Maybe-Geralt pauses in front of a stall and for a moment Jaskier thinks he's stopping to buy something, so he sneaks away, but when he comes around the other side of the house, he stops dead.

His breath catches and for a second, he's certain that even his heart stops beating.

The man in the market is certainly Geralt, he knows that now, but sprouting from the top of his head are two thick, curled horns. He tries to call out, but his mouth is dry and maybe it's for the best because Geralt’s expression darkens suddenly and he sniffs at the air.

For the first time, Jaskier considers that maybe Geralt meets him further south for a reason. Maybe he doesn't want Jaskier to see him like this, he obviously takes measures to ensure that he doesn't. Fuck. He's gone and fucked this up, too.

Ducking back behind the building, Jaskier holds his breath, hoping that Geralt hasn't caught his scent. He knows if he has there's nothing for it, he's caught, but maybe-

"Jaskier."

Geralt's voice is low, right on the edge of a growl, and Jaskier winces. When he looks over, the hood is back in place, but Geralt's teeth are bared and they're barely teeth at all - at least the canines - more like fangs. He swallows hard and risks a glance up at his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt demands, moving at once to pin Jaskier's shoulders against the wall. Jaskier doesn't know what to say. He shifts uncomfortably, unwilling to look Geralt in the face.

It's not the first time Geralt's been upset with him, but this time Jaskier’s intentions were genuine, he just didn't think it through all the way. Or rather, he hadn't considered that after fifteen years together, there are still things Geralt keeps from him. Deflated, Jaskier wrenches out of his grasp and picks up the bag he dropped when Geralt shoved him. He's embarrassed, feels like an idiot for thinking Geralt might be happy to see him and now on top of it, he's intruded on something he was never supposed to see.

Geralt doesn't stop him from walking away and Jaskier tries not to think too much about that.

He books a room at the inn and doesn't bother to go down for dinner. He doesn't know what to do with himself, because if he can't travel with Geralt - and he certainly didn't seem like he was happy to see him - what can he do? Certainly not go back to Oxenfurt and admit to all his peers that yet again, he was a fool and thought someone cared when they didn't.

It's just that fifteen years is a long time. Nearly half his life. And for Geralt who rarely lets himself form attachments well, Jaskier had thought maybe it meant something to Geralt. It did to him.

Jaskier doesn't even bother to put his things away before flopping onto the bed and staring up at the beams. Geralt had been so angry. He had just wanted to do something nice, he should have known showing up himself would not be welcome. But maybe this is for the best, maybe everyone was right when they told him he couldn't follow Geralt around forever.

But he had wanted to. For the last fifteen years of his life, Jaskier has wanted nothing more than to have Geralt in his life, even if nothing ever comes of it. He's never been greedy, never wanted more than he thought Geralt would be willing to give. And look where it's gotten him? Geralt doesn't even trust him enough to show him what he really looks like.

Geralt lingers as Jaskier hurries off away from him, and he can hardly blame him. He wouldn't stay either if he’d found out the person he'd been travelling with was a monster. Jaskier tries to convince him he's not, but the thought has always been there, nagging at him. He just hasn't seen you, it says and Geralt knows it's true. He is a monster. Whatever happened to him during that second round of trials took away the remaining sliver of humanity. He'd tried so hard to hide it, to try and keep Jaskier for just a little longer, but Jaskier shows up here and how is he supposed to plan for that?

And what is Jaskier doing here in the first place? Geralt needs this time to himself. Needs a chance to hole up and file down the horns and the fangs, to make himself presentable. To visit the brothel before returning to the torture that is travelling with Jaskier.

Jaskier showing up here had thrown him off. He'd been overcome with shock and confusion and fear. Fear that Jaskier would see him like this and hate him. Fear that this one minor incident would ruin everything he's worked so hard for.

Fear had taken over and he had reacted... badly. It's no wonder Jaskier had left him there, no wonder he didn't want to be seen with him when the first time Jaskier sees what he really looks like, he practically attacks him. Fuck, he really is the monster everyone always says he is.

After everything Jaskier has done to try and prove to the world that Witchers have been given a bad name, that they're not mindless, emotionless killing machines, this is how he repays him. He has to fix this, if not for him then for his brothers' reputation and for Jaskier's peace of mind. The last thing he wants is for Jaskier to think he's in any danger with him. With a sigh, he pulls his pack higher on his shoulder and heads toward the inn.

He catches the scent of Jaskier's perfume as soon as he walks through the door and it tugs at something in his chest. It's bright and floral, but there's a tinge of despair, of sadness intertwined with it. It's not fear though, and while Geralt struggles to comprehend that, the innkeeper passes over a key. Geralt follows the directions to his own room, ridding himself of his pack and swords. He strips his armour, leaving him in only a thin black shirt and his trousers. Before he leaves the room, he pulls his travelling cloak back over his head and shoulders.

He finds Jaskier's room in a matter of minutes and stands outside the door. He's faced griffins and fiends and hired assassins and none have come close to the fear that surges through him now. Because if he failed there, he just died, plain and simple; a fitting end for a Witcher. If he fails now, he loses the person most important to him. He's glad Jaskier isn't the one with heightened senses, glad that he doesn't know how long Geralt stands outside the door before lifting to hand to knock.

But he does. And as soon as he does, Geralt’s chest tightens and he wants to leave. There's a shuffling from within and then the door pulls in and Jaskier is right there. It catches him off guard and before he can consider what Jaskier might be thinking, he blurts out,

"Let me explain," and then doesn't know what to say. What do you say? What are you supposed to say to a man who's known you half his life and only now learns you have horns. Geralt shifts, looking at him. Jaskier says nothing, but he moves aside, letting Geralt come into the room. The door shuts behind him and a wave of fear crashes down over him.

Jaskier looks sad, confused, hurt. He doesn't know where to start.

"I know you're mad and I understand-"

"You're the one who slammed me into a building," Jaskier chokes. The anger is there, Geralt expected it, but it's being smothered by something else, something stronger, like ivy around a sapling.

"I'm sorry," he winces. He is. He never meant to hurt Jaskier, not emotionally and certainly not physically. "I was... scared. I saw you and I didn't know what to do." His shoulders slump and he turns to look out the window, jaw clenched. "You're not supposed to see me like this."

"And why not?" Jaskier asks. The anger is toned down slightly, the other feeling still there but not so harsh. Geralt doesn't like it, doesn't like the feeling of it or the way it makes Jaskier's voice breaks and he wishes it would go away all together, but he doesn't know how to do that.

"I'm- Look at me, Jaskier. I'm a monster. I'm exactly what they say I am. A mutant, a freak." The anger scent remains, but it takes a sharp turn, twisting into something much more recognizable. Something he knows from tavern brawls and holding Jaskier back when they’re on the road when someone makes a snide comment.

"You absolutely are not. You're a liar and a terrible friend, but you're not a monster."

"What-"

"Why did you keep this from me?" Jaskier asks, that other feeling creeping up to regain dominance.

"I thought you'd-" Geralt drops his chin, staring at the floorboards between them. There's a crack down the center of one of them and he focuses on that instead of the sound of Jaskier's voice. "You were the only one who stuck around. You met me during the spring when they're shaved down and I- I was selfish."

"How?" Jaskier prompts. He sounds impatient, but excited, like he's anticipated what Geralt is going to say. But if he had, he wouldn't be happy about it.

"I didn't want you to hate me. I didn't want you to leave me. So I hid it from you. I became good at keeping them filed low during the warmer months and let them grow out during the winter. I didn't- it's why I never asked you to join me in Kaer Morhen."

Jaskier squints at him, disbelieving or confused, he's not sure, but the look is piercing and Geralt feels transparent under it, like Jaskier can tell every thought in his head. But he knows how that feels and this is not it. Jaskier is making assumptions if anything. Not that that thought is any less horrifying under the circumstances.

"So let me get this straight," Jaskier says, calmly, cooly. Too calm. "You once rescued me from the den of an incubus you thought would kill me if he tried to fuck me. Again, I might add. If you recall you walked in in the middle of it. You stopped me from leaving the bar with a vampiress one time because, and I quote, you don't need any help losing blood, and one time you intentionally gave me space to continue a quite lovely conversation with a, particularly amenable centaur. But you thought horns were a bit too much for me? Is that what I'm to understand Geralt?"

He doesn't know what to say to that. It's not just the horns, he supposes. But he doesn't need to give Jaskier another reason not to travel with him. Melitele knows there are enough of those already.

"Am I to believe that you're daft enough to believe that after fifteen years of traipsing over the continent with you, of writing you songs and cooking you supper and tending to your wounds- that horns would be the final straw? Geralt if you haven't noticed I've fucked dozens of people who are, to put it indelicately, much less human than you."

Geralt isn't sure how Jaskier's sex life is relevant, but he says nothing.

"I actually like them," Jaskier says, eyeing the hood. "Could I... look at them?"

Reluctantly, Geralt reaches up and pushes the hood back. The air feels cool on his head and he feels incredibly exposed letting Jaskier see him like this, but he shuts his eyes and ducks his head as Jaskier takes a step toward him.

"Can I touch?"

The air is punched from Geralt's lungs with that one simple question and he nods slowly, tucking his chin a little closer into his chest. Jaskier brushes his fingers along the curve of the left horn and the only way Geralt knows he's touching him is the way he hums with intrigue, similar to the way he hums at his lute when it's newly strung. He takes his time, reaching right down to the base and touching the more sensitive skin there. It doesn't hurt, but it ignites Geralt's instinct to protect himself, makes him feel like he should pull away, hide this from Jaskier again.

When Jaskier touches his head, he does. He's not sure what it is about the touch, maybe that he can fully feel it, but it snaps his restraint and he pulls back, breathless.

"Sorry," Jaskier whispers, "did it hurt?"

"No," Geralt admits, "just... unusual. No one's ever touched them before. Maybe Eskel when he helped me file them down the first few times."

"Why don't we," Jakier suggests, "come sit on the bed, take your cloak and your boots off. I'd like to get a better look at them. if that's okay?"

Geralt nods and Jaskier's hands are on him before he removes his cloak himself. He undoes the clasp with no effort, draping the cloak over his arm before directing Geralt to the bed. This is... not at all how he expected this to go down, but at least Jaskier hasn't turned him away yet. He toes off his boots and sits back on the mattress, leaning against the wall with his feet at the edge.

In a moment, Jaskier climbs up over him, making himself perfectly at home in Geralt's lap.

"There," he says proudly, "it's much easier to see like this and you won't' end up with a crick in your neck." Geralt remains silent, worried that he doesn't know the situation well enough to comment.

Jaskier's hands slip into his hair again, fingers looping around the base of both horns and he feels the faint tug and Jaskier slips up, following the curve of them with his hands.

"Do you brothers have them?" he asks. Geralt shakes his head.

"Second trials" he explains. "Lost the pigment in my hair and grew fucking horns."

"I like them."

Jaskier continues his ministrations, apparently happy to just sit and touch and nothing else. And Geralt relaxes under the touch, even if he can barely feel it. Jaskier isn't angry with him, doesn't hate him, and for now, that can be enough, But the air between them grows thick. He doesn't notice it right away, too preoccupied with Jaskier touching his horns, but the scent is what alerts him. Spicy, earthy, floral.

It's nice, he thinks absently, familiar and enticing. But he doesn't think too much about it. Not until Jaskier's little hums become softer, sweeter. The realization hits him so abruptly he nearly snaps his head back up, but he doesn't want to give Jaskier any more reason to leave him, although, maybe that's not as much of a problem as he thought.

"Are you... aroused by this?"

Jaskier huffs a little laugh, awkward, but not uncomfortable. "I just think they're sexy."

"Oh."

"Why, does it turn you on?"

"No," Geralt snorts, "I can barely feel it. If I could filing them down would be excruciating."

"Right," Jaskier realizes and Geralt can sense the thinly veiled horror in his voice."Anything else I should know about?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Geralt opens his mouth and pulls his lip back. He'd be horrified at the way Jaskier gasps if he couldn't smell the arousal wafting off of him.

"Fuck, Geralt, that's-" he reaches out, pressing the pad of his thumb to the point of Geralt's fang and smiles. It's a faint sort of thing, more amusing than outright joy, but he's fascinated and right now that's good enough.

Jaskier's finger slips along his bottom teeth, but Geralt shifts under him, dislodging him, and Jaskier's fingers brush his bottom lip before slipping forward, sliding between his lips and pressing against his tongue. Geralt's skin prickles just at the thought of it and when he looks up at Jaskier, he finds him wide-eyed and intrigued.

Their eyes meet and Jaskier holds his gaze. Then, cautiously, withdraws his fingers and runs them along the swell of Geralt's bottom lip, eyes dropping to watch the way they press against it.

"Geralt?" he whispers and Geralt realizes he's been so focused on Jaskier's fingers that he hasn't been paying attention to anything else. He's surprised to find he's got his hands settled on Jaskier's hips. His eyes flick down to his hands, then quickly back up to Jaskier's. The moment they meet again, his willpower snaps and he hauls Jaskier forward, one hand slipping to the back of his head to guide him.

The moment their lips collide, Geralt realizes this was inevitable. That one day Jaskier was bound to find out and want to know about them. His reaction though, Geralt never could have anticipated.

Geralt is... kissing him. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with what his body has already realized and he breaks the kiss with a jolt.

"You're not mad at me," he pants and Geralt just stares at him for a moment.

"No, I told you, I was afraid-"

"That I'd leave you." Jaskier finishes. Geralt nods. "I'd never leave you." He leans in again, trying for a softer, gentler kiss, but the way Geralt's hands press against him sends sparks across his skin.

Jaskier leans into it, parting his lips to deepen the kiss and Geralt's hand slips to his waist, one big, warm hand curling around his side. He pushes into the touch. It's not often he feels small or delicate with a lover, but Geralt does that for him and it's hotter than it has any right to be.

He parts his lips, deepening the kiss and Geralt moans softly against him. It's the most beautiful sound Jaskier has ever heard and he responds in kind, desperate to hear that sound again.

When they part again, Jaskier's breathing heavily and, much to his delight, so is Geralt. He leans back a little, far enough to look at Geralt's face, but not far enough to keep from touching him. He takes in the golden eyes staring back at him, the point of his teeth where Geralt's lips are parted, and the horns. Fuck, Geralt must be an idiot to think he wouldn't want him like this.

"Can I touch you- the rest of you?" he asks and Geralt grunts a yes, surging forward to hold him again.

Geralt gets both arms around him this time, lifting him off the mattress and rising to his knees. He shifts them so he's facing the head of the bed and as he settles, gently lays Jaskier back against the mattress. His head hits the pillow and Geralt settles between his thighs, slipping his hands over Jaskier's hips.

Jaskier reaches up to him, running his hands over Geralt's shoulders, down his arms. He follows the lines of his chest through his shirt, straight down to his trousers where he tugs the fabric free. His fingers slip beneath it and he sighs at the warmth of Geralt's skin on his fingertips. Geralt shudders against him and it gives Jaskier the encouragement he needs. Carefully, he curls his hands around the hem of Geralt's shirt, lifting it up and tugging it over his head.

He inhales sharply and Geralt pulls back just slightly. Jaskier is quick to explain his misunderstanding, slipping his hands around the back of Geralt's neck and sliding them down his shoulders.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

"You've seen me naked a dozen times this week, Jaskier."

"Not like this."

And it's true. He's seen Geralt naked more times than he can count and he knows Geralt is sexy, knows the lines of his chest better than he should for never having seen them up close, but he's never seen him like this. Geralt is soft like this, so close, and Jaskier is allowed to touch him, Jaskier is allowed to look.

He brushes his fingertips over his nipples. Geralt gives a little gasp and his eyelids flutter.

"Wouldn't think it makes a difference," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier realizes he thinks he's talking about the horns.

"Oh it does, my darling, but I mean like this," he says, pulling Geralt lower over him. "Where I'm allowed to touch you."

"You're always allowed," Geralt mumbles, chin dripping to inadvertently give Jsskier a better look at his horns. He reaches out, slipping his fingers down to the point again. "I just... can't help the way I react when I'm too close to you."

"What do you mean?"

"You make me want things I shouldn't, make me think about things I can't have-"

"Bullshit. What shouldn't you have? What can't you have?"

Geralt lifts his head to look at him, meeting his eyes for a moment and then, "you," he says sadly. Jaskier doesn't give a chance to respond before Geralt continues, evidently relieved to get this off his chest. "You spread your affection so wide, in every town and village and I- it's different with me. You're soft and kind, but how could you want... you have your choice of any person on the continent, how could I-'' he cuts himself off with a sound that Jaskier would call a sob from anyone else.

"What are you saying, Geralt? You don't think I could want you? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

Geralt just snorts at him and moves to pull away, but Jaskier rolls him onto his back and straddles his hips.

"Do you know how wonderful you are?" He pushes his hands through Geralt's chest hair, pressing his fingertips into his skin. "How could I not want you? Do you see me following anyone else around?"

"You're always with someone, always inviting someone else into your bed-"

"Because you wouldn't have me. Or, I thought-" He shifts a little, and suddenly Geralt's hands are sliding up his back, pressing him down against him.

"You thought wrong," he breathes, and then he's kissing him again, soft and slow. One hand slips up into his hair and Jaskier sighs against his lips, letting his eyes fall shut.

He slumps against Geralt's chest, pressing his hands to either side of Geralt's face and he kisses him softly. He pours all of his affection into ever, every feeling he's never been able to share with Geralt, every little thought that he's thought would be too much for him. He rocks against him, pressing their bodies together. He wants to feel Geralt, to be as close as he can for whatever time he has with him.

But then Geralt is pressing back, arching off the bed and wrapping one arm tightly around Jsskier's back until they're so close Jaskier can barely move. He nips at Geralt's lips, pushing back the words that bubble to the surface, the words he wants so desperately to say. He's been holding back for years and maybe now he's allowed? Maybe now Geralt would be amenable - her certainly seems to be so far.

And Jaskier is so caught up in the thought, in the idea of being able to tell Geralt how he feels, that he doesn't realize he's being rolled over until he's on his back and Geralt isn't touching him anymore. He rises to his knees, breaking the kiss only to mouth at Jsskier's jaw and down the side of his neck.

Geralt nips at his collarbone, runs his tongue along the ridge of it and sucks at the skin just below. There will be marks in the morning, Jaskier is sure of it, and he's already itching to look at them. But Geralt doesn't give him much of a chance to think about it before he's nuzzling at Jaskier's neck again, the tips of his fangs just barely brushing against his skin. And Jaskier shudders. The motion goes through his whole body and a soft whine escapes his lips. How the fuck Geralt ever thought seeing him like this would be a bad thing is beyond him.

"Jaskier," he whispers, "I want you. Can I?"

"Anything," Jaskier gasps, "please Geralt, anything."

Geralt hums against him and meets his eyes for just a second before lowering them again to Jaskier's chest. He presses soft kisses into the skin, slipping down to nuzzle into his chest hair and Jsskier is preoccupied with the warmth of his breath and then Geralt's fingers brush over a nipple and he cries out, arching off the bed as Geralt pinches it between his fingertips. It's still gentle, still softer than he's used to, but it's Geralt.

It's Geralt touching his chest and kissing his neck and playing with his nipples. It's Geralt kneeling over him and Geralt breathing against his skin and it's... a lot. Automatically, Jaskier reaches out to him, pulling Geralt close so he can bury his face in his neck.

Geralt works a hand between them, slipping down to fumble with the clasps on Jaskier's trousers and then he's pulling away just enough to be able to undo the clasps. Jaskier groans as his trousers are shoved away, discarded off the side of the bed, but then Geralt is fumbling with the buttons on his own and a wave of heat engulfs him.

This is really happening.

In his 33 years, Jaskier has slept with kings and queens, counts and countesses, and he's never wanted someone so badly as he wants Geralt. It makes him a little anxious and he has to swallow back his self-doubt as Geralt shifts out of his clothes and settles on his knees between Jaskier's thighs.

Without breaking the kiss, he slips his arms under Jaskier's knees, pressing them back against him until he's leaning over him again. Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing down on him and Jaskier groans despite himself. Geralt's cock brushes against his hip and he's hard. It tugs at something deep inside him and Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt's neck, fingers pushing into his hair.

He shifts against the mattress and Geralt pulls his arms back. His mouth doesn't leave Jaskier's, even as he reaches for something off the side of the bed. When he settles again, he's got a bottle in his hand and Jaskier whimpers at the thought of it.

Geralt draws away, breaking the kiss with a hum and kissing down Jaskier's chest. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his mouth around the head of his cock and then he's bobbing gently, sliding halfway down his cock and slipping back to the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he focuses on the feel of him, the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his hair in his hands.

When one of Geralt's hands presses against him, he hums encouragingly but doesn't move otherwise, afraid of breaking whatever spell he's under. He doesn't want to risk ending this, doesn't want to risk almost losing Geralt again.

Geralt slips a finger into him and Jaskier reaches up, smoothing his hands up the curve of Geralt's horns. He tries to keep steady, to keep from getting too worked up, but it's hard. Because this is Geralt, this is something he's wanted for years - what if it goes badly? What if it's terrible and Geralt no longer wants him?

A second finger presses into him and Jaskier gasps, startled from his thoughts. Geralt's eyes meet his and he looks worried, questioning.

"Is this too much?" he asks, "we don't have to-"

"No. No, I want you, I want this. Please." Jaskier's fingers slip to the base of his horns, brushing almost nervously where the flesh meets horn. "I just want to be good enough for you."

"You are," Geralt says immediately, "more than enough."

Their lips met again and Geralt's fingers press in a little more firmly. Heat rolls up Jaskier's spine, but he's not aching for it, he's not desperate to come. His cock is hard against his hip, but he wants to be close to Geralt. He wants his arms around him, wants to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist and just press himself against him. He wants the press of skin on skin, unhindered by clothes or blankets of any number of things that have kept them apart in the past.

He just wants Geralt and it doesn't matter how.

When Geralt finally pushes into him, Jaskier groans at the stretch. It's good, so good, and Geralt presses down against him again. Jaskier takes the opportunity to wrap around him and they move together easily, as though they were built for each other. Geralt kisses and nips and Jaskier loves so deeply he can't cope.

He hates the tears that bead in the corners of his eyes, hates the emotion that threatens to tear him apart and he buried his head in Geralt's neck to distract himself. Before he can get his arms around him properly, Geralt pulls back. As soon as he sees his face, Geralt's features pinch together.

"Jaskier-"

"Fuck," Jaskier whines weakly, "Geralt."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jaskier whimpers. He reaches up to Geralt, wanting to pull him close again. He doesn't want Geralt to see him, doesn't want him thinking he's too much, too emotional.

Geralt guides him back against the mattress and detangles their arms, leaning up on one elbow. Jaskier is embarrassed. He's a renowned lover, known for giving his partners the greatest pleasure and in the face of Geralt and one tiny bit of genuine affection, he breaks down.

He crosses his arms over his face but Geralt just wraps gentle fingers around his wrists and pulls them back.

"Hey," he whispers and there's worry in his voice that only makes Jaskier shudder. He chokes on a sob and turns his face, pressing his forehead against Geralrt's wrist.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, but Geralt just brushes his thumb over his forehead.

"For what?"

"I'm... " he doesn't know what to say. A mess? too much? not good enough for you? "okay."

"Jask, you're crying. Is it me?"

"No," he blurts, "no, Geralt, I-" a gentle thumb presses beneath his eye, wiping a tear away and that only makes it worse. "I love you," he whispers, so quiet he's sure no one will hear it. But Geralt, aside from his horns and his fangs, has sensitive hearing.

"And that's... bad." He says. It's not a question.

"No. No, but I- I fucked up. I almost lost you-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "you didn't. I was afraid you'd hate me like this, that you'd see me as the monster everyone else does. I was angry because I thought I was going to lose you."

"I know I'm a lot to put up with-"

"You're not."

Jaskier huffs a wet laugh. "I talk too much and I get in trouble you have to get me out of and I'm too slow and too annoying and too-" Geralt quiets him with a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Once," he says, "at a tavern in Posada, I would have believed those things. I don't anymore." He brushes his fingers down Jaskier's side, settling his palm against his hip. "If I really thought you were too much, I wouldn't be here now." He dips down, kissing him on the mouth again.

Jaskier can't help but sink into it and when Geralt shifts back on top of him, Jaskier winds around his neck again. Geralt breaks the kiss, kissing Jaskier's jaw and down his neck.

"We can stop if you want?"

"No," Jaskier mumbles.

"What do you need?"

"Just... you."

"Yeah," Geralt breathes, "yeah, okay."

He shifts his hips, resuming his slow but steady rhythm and Jaskier clings to him. He can't believe he came so close to losing Geralt tonight, to losing him and losing this forever. A swell of emotion threatens to rise up again and overwhelm him, but he kisses Geralt, holds him tight and focuses on the weight of his body against his own.

His fingers trail absently around the base of a horn, bumping over the uneven skin there. The horns themselves are smoother than expected, probably because they're so fresh, but he likes the sensation of them under his fingers and Geralt seems pleased about it.

Sparks skitter across Jaskier's skin as Geralt's pace quickens and he gaps against his mouth as Geralt rocks into his prostate. Even when Geralt's lips aren't on him, they hover above his skin, hot breath creating goosebumps in its wake. And when he kisses him, it seems a tremor audit through Jaskier's body, making his heart beat quicker and his toes curl in the sheets. He's never felt this way with anyone, never found himself chasing closeness before an orgasm, but he likes it.

He likes the sleekness of Geralt's horn under his palm, the tickle of his hair as it brushes his bare skin, the tackiness is dying away on Geralt's skin. All of it. He draws him close again, just as Geralt's hips give a little snap and it knocks the breath out of him.

"Can I touch you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier knows he won't last long with Geralt's hand on him, but for once that doesn't seem important.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt's palm slips up the underside of his cock, making him shudder.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier just nods, a small sound escaping his lips as he rocks his hips into the touch.

Geralt's fingers wrap around him and it's like a wave of heat washing over him. Jaskier's entire body burns for him, arches off the bed to get closer to him. Geralt takes him apart so easily and it's only a matter of minutes before he's gasping for it, groaning his need into Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt rocks into him, stroking him in time with his thrusts and when he kisses him again, Jaskier shatters. He groans against Geralt's lips, rocking back onto him as he spills between them. His thighs shake and his arms feel like noodles around Geralt's neck, but he holds him closer anyway.

He's still breathless when Geralt's hips snap forward again and Jaskier can tell he's close in the way he shudders as he rocks into him. He tangles his fingers in Geralt's hair, kisses him hard. He wants this to be good, wants Geralt to know that he's safe here, he can be happy here.

When Geralt comes, it's with a quiet moan against Jaskier's chest and he stays there for a moment, breathing against his skin. When he pulls away, he wraps his arms around Jaskier's shoulder, pulling him onto his side so they're still facing each other. Neither speaks and Geralt kisses him again, slow and gentle. His hand comes up to cup the back of his head, and Jaskier hums softly against his lips.

They part again on a shaky breath and Jaskier bumps his forehead against Geralt's. He doesn't want to ask him to stay, he's still too afraid to hear him say no. But he doesn't want Geralt to go. It's already hard enough losing him over the winter, he can't bear the thought of being parted any longer than that. He shuts his eyes and presses close, pacified by the way Geralt's arm tightens around him.

"Next winter," Geralt mumbles, abrupt, "come with me. There's nothing left for me to hide and I... miss you over the winter. I worry about you." Jaskier's heart soars, despite his best efforts to keep his emotions restrained.

"You'd want me there?" he asks, "with your brothers?"

"Yeah. And they've been bugging me about it since I first mentioned you."

"You talk about me?" Jaskier asks, pulling back to look at him. Geralt tips his head up, golden eyes shining even in the dim light.

"Of course. You're-" he pauses as though unsure of what exactly Jaskier is. "I love you, too," he whispers at last, eyes lowered.

It feels like a dream, like any moment Jaskier will wake up and be back hiding behind that building or worse - alone in his room. But when he kisses him, Geralt is warm and solid against him and Jaskier buries himself in that warmth.

He will never, could never, understand how anyone can see this man as a monster.

#geraskier #fangs #horns #monster march #this got... sadder than expected oop #rex writes #the witcher

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