#if you don’t listen to the mountain goats. you must.

[squash1]

the most gansey song ever.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Spent the other day going through a bunch of Thom Tuck things, after watching all those ACMS videos. His stand-up DVD, which is called Goes Straight to DVD, and had some extras, also had that show in another form, and a radio show with a pilot that was that show in yet another form, and then four episodes that were vaguely connected to the premise of that show but mainly a vehicle for the material from his next show.

My first thought, on seeing Thom Tuck Goes Straight to DVD, in its nice professionally filmed form was – weird to see him in a suit. After watching 40 hours of ACMS livestreams from Edinburgh, it was odd to see that Thom Tuck is an actual professional stand-up comedian. He isn’t always drunk on stage at 2:30 AM and singing acapella Mountain Goats while struggling to remember the running order. Sometimes he wears a suit. And delivers a tightly structured hour of comedy where everything fits together nicely. I must admit I wasn’t expecting that. He’s actually quite good at it.

I enjoyed that a lot, it’s immediately gone high up the list of my favourite stand-up shows that I’ve seen for the first time in 2024 (even though this show’s from 2011, and I think that version was filmed for GFS in 2013). He did the dual narrative thing, jumping between stories of his past experience with romance and stories about straight-to-DVD Disney films. Which kept the hour on track because pretty much everything he said had to relate to one of those two topics, and I do like that in a comedy show, one that brings together enough material on the main subject (or couple of subjects, in this case) to not need to shoehorn anything else in. A show that came from a really clear idea of what it wanted to be, rather than trying to find ways to loosely connect material and call it an hour.

I think that when a tightly focused show is good, it’s really good, and this one was. The two topics worked together nicely. They contrasted in a funny way, the serious weight of stories about past love and heartbreak with the frivolity of bad Disney movies. And he got lots of humour out of that, switching fast from one to the other and getting a laugh at the change in tone. But thematically they fit right in with each other, the Disney films about romance and happy endings in a neat oversimplified box, and then the reality of that. Plus he got a lot of scope from the two topics. Got to do the nerdy comedy where a comedian tells you in amusingly intricate detail about some esoteric interest (obviously this sort of comedy appeals to the autistic in me, whether or not I share interest in that specific topic), and the universally relatable, emotionally resonate topic of heartbreak. The more I think about it, the more I think the underlying idea might be genius. Every other comedian must be furious that they didn’t think of it.

But there are lots of premises for a comedy hour that look nice on paper and don’t get executed well (I’ve recently listened to an Edinburgh hour about Cobra Kai that could have been so good if it had just successfully executed even 40% of its potential, and it just didn’t), and this was not one of those. I enjoyed all of it. It turns out that Thom Tuck is pretty good at writing routines that fit together nicely, and hitting cues for hilarious and dramatic delivery, when he’s not trying to compere/corral a shambolic mixed bill at 2 AM.

To be honest, I expected to enjoy the stuff about Disney movies (I’m not into Disney movies or anything, I just enjoy that kind of comedy about people who go to absurd lengths for nerdy completism), and to find the romance stuff less interesting. But I actually liked it all. They complemented each other nicely, the bits that were meant to be emotionally moving did actually affect me, it made me laugh a lot. And I absolutely cannot explain why the ending worked, but it did (or at least, it felt in my subjective opinion like it worked, but I do not know why).

There were... maybe a couple of times when it crossed into having a mildly incel-y vibe, but nothing actually bad. There was absolutely no part where he said "I hate women for not going out with me". And he didn't say any of the lighter dogwhistle that mean that either, like "Women need to date nice guys." It's just a lot of stories in a row about getting rejected by girls/women and being upset and sometimes bitter about that, in a show that was written before the incel movement became a thing that was known in the mainstream, so, you know, he wasn't as careful as male comedian might be today to add "Obviously I'm not an incel though and I believe women do not owe me this." Back before incels were all over the internet, anyone who wasn't a terrible person could just assume that was implied, which I'll assume in this case.

That is slightly connected to one thread that I thought got dropped a little bit, about the portrayal of women in Disney, which I thought he could have made a bit more of - it sounded for a bit like he was going to make a bit more of it - could have connected that more to the real-life stories and how real women contrast with Disney woman stereotypes. Which I thought was too bad, that that thread got picked up briefly and then didn't go anywhere, but, you know, it's not really the inherent obligation of a comedy show to contain feminist analysis of old Disney movies.

Anyway it's here if anyone else is interested in this:

Also, after I finished listening to Thom Tuck's Radio 4 show (based on this stand-up hour), I've now got a couple of episodes into the old Penny Dreadfuls Radio 4 show, which is quite funny.

[thoughtsformtheuniverse]

tagged by @booksandchainmail to shuffle my general listening music and post the first 10 songs. I chose my 'music' playlist rather just my full library to avoid the two (2) podcast episodes and random audiobook chapters in there.

1. Songs for Lonely Giants by The Mountain Goats ⁃ I mean. it’s The Mountain Goats. it’s slow, it’s sad, it’s pretty weird. I found this one on a character playlist for Jack from E. Jade Lomax’s Beanstalk series (read it for free here!) it’s very good!

2. Moving On by Oysterband ⁃ not blue oyster cult, but a much weirder band that mostly sings songs about working man’s politics in England in during the last century. this song has both the lines "we asked the man for justice, well he handed us a stone" and "the way to hell is straight and sure/the way to heaven is long/the way to your heart is never-ending/so I just keep moving on" and I adore it

3. Four Hours by The Longest Johns ⁃ I found The Longest Johns late in college (and felt deeply smug when their Wellerman was a hit a year later. I found them first), but I do just listen to a lot of sea shanties. This one is a big ass mood for getting off a ship again and trying to adjust to Land and Not a Watch Schedule. Also, like most sea shanties, great to do chores and lab work too

4. Theseus by The Oh Hellos ⁃ god but I always love The Oh Hellos; this is a song about the importance of maintenance and I treasure it. all of the Zephyrus album is good

5. Loves Me Like a Rock by The Wailin’ Jennys ⁃ turns out The Wailin’ Jennys, usually a folk band, did a cover of Paul Simon’s Love Me a Rock. it’s pretty good. (I actually downloaded this earlier today; I have no sophisticated thoughts yet)

6. I Don’t Want You Now by KT Tunstall ⁃ If Only is probably my actual favorite song off this album, but KT Tunstall is always a good time

7. Angels of the River by Oysterband ⁃ aaand the other stuff Oysterband does is odd, folky, kinda wifty stuff like this. Genuinely no idea what this one is about, any more than I know what Milford Haven is about. I like it though

8. Now I am an Arsonist by Jonathon Colton (ft Suzanne Vega) ⁃ to me, this is a very unlikely combination of artists; Colton usually does deeply nerdy fare, while Suzanne Vega soft and strange. this song is on my thieves playlist, and I could not really describe why

9. Heavy Horses by Jethro Tull ⁃ most of the Jethro Tull songs I like best are songs about industrialization with some of the weirdest flute solos I have ever heard, and Heavy Horses is no exception. This song is nearly 9 minutes long and about the arrival of tractors. it’s great. (Stormwatch is actually my favorite Jethro Tull album, and Weathercock or Acres Wild are more favorite songs from this one, but do I really like Heavy Horses)

10. Falling For The First Time by The Barenaked Ladies ⁃ This is the kind of overlapping wordplay I’m here for, the whole chorus delights me; "Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost/Anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost/What if I lost my direction? What if I lost sense of time?". And the way it comes back in the final chorus, but tweaked a little. it’s just a good time.

I’m deeply surprised that there’s no They Might Be Giants, Great Big Sea, or songs from my highschool acapella group, but other than that, this is pretty representative.

@epsilon-delta do you play tag games?

[effyeffa]

a comprehensive list of (almost) all of my spotify playlists, sorted by theme

category 1: a bit of everything.

every feeling everywhere all at once opened by brian eno, closed by mitski, in between an eclectic mix of everything to scream cry and dance to  essentials. as the title suggests this is the music that makes up the foundation of my identity. funkadelic, air, spiritualized, y la bamba, weyes blood etc etc multitudes: similar idea but older. more hip hop in there, a little time capsule of 2017

seasonal playlists: these are closed chapters that won’t be altered

forbidden fruit february. self explanatory. aquarius season is for yearning and getting messy, thanks fiona apple idlings of march is when spring begins again, just barely but there’s a careful joy spreading. joyful tunes! this must be the place! spring has sprung and continues springing. instrumental interludes as standalone songs, everything sounds like water. the time that we wasted just hit like a wave begin again, another spring playlist. this time with childish gambino, laura marling, hayley williams, guns’n’roses, the classic combo april flowers. short and sweet, alice phoebe lou meets car seat headrest slowly come the saints of summer. do you remember when st vincent said daddy’s home well i made a whole playlist about it. mika is in there. genuinely no idea what was going on that summer. never ending summer, this IS the season of the witch. we love a strange mix of oldies and french and german new wave  i can’t believe summer is over and oh it’s so sentimental, it’s a cherry-coloured funk winter walking. it’s giving phoebe bridgers in the graveyard, mountain goats, springsteen, mother mother winter fruits: the first big thief singles off their latest album came out and sent me down this particular spiral. frankie cosmos and mitski, niche italian indie pop

playlists i still edit/add to, first: good moods.

still you. skinshape, biig piig, kadhja bonet, julia jacklin autobahn, a roadtrip playlist, best friends laughing, mostly italian 70s/80s many moons ago: it’s pop! it’s happy things! silly goofy times golden hour! an old one. started this in 2018, sylvan esso was big, king krule, her’s, clairo will you always love like this? dream pop. lesbianism. st south.  everyday’s a holiday: okay kaya and rex orange county, steve lacy vibes maybe i wasn’t there: kendrick, dijon, rosalía come on over & do the twist. they’re love songs. aching with nostalgia but happy coffee in bed is teetering on the edge between a lovely warm soup of emotions and desperate yearning clear the fog is where the yearning begins in earnest.

moody moods.

free drinks at the local bar, we’ve got mac demarco, the strokes, girlpool. you know the drill take me for a spin: something of a continuation of free drinks a few years later now including sam cohen, kevin morby. sad-ish music that still works if played in public ring: odes to being happysad on public transport in berlin, short and sweet peel you like a fruit. THEE playlist of psychological warfare.  i would be an electrician: if you enjoy julien baker’s happy to be here, the following ten tracks might do similar damage to your psyche  no more bad news from my jorja smith phase, also greentea peng, arlo parks gloomy. it’s the end of the world, sharon van etten said, and love is a losing game, and there’s stormy weather and love will tear us apart.  calm there’s definitely a flatsound track in there. be warned.  

and here’s three completely new ones, works in progress, not yet categorised:

touch. a very specific moment in time. listening to beach house and rhye with all my friends on a big couch, drifting off together, crying a little, holding on tightly all the in between: the only place that matters is by your side, mama you’ve been on my mind, only the strong survive, don’t think twice it’s alright. songs that transcend time and space transitional. seeing angels in everything

already this post is way too long. i have so many playlists, my god. i have a whole folder sorted by genre, one by decade, more by concepts and themes. i’m currently sorting through everything and thought i’d share my process, maybe you’ll find something for yourself new in my chaos :)

[mindutme]

Fen Sawul Tal Fes

Hné hu bel su xí kal sú. E hmu af dné k’a hné kén hne, a sémfa k’a xi nwat le. Sáwul k’a psil fen tuf hne sú hné. Hox byóx oth súwu na lal hne. Hox ól súwu le p’és, a p’íl k’a dá le syád hne. T’ud e bon sos mán oth fóna le umen hi sk’el. Béta kulum ma bón sos fóna le a hné gan. Xél pa oth tóf le un af. Hox émbe pa xmen hné fél nolyo yebi hox. Mélk’o le hne hú tso fél xu. Ts’úth ma dá le hné a syád hne a tyútthin le hne sín ex. Kwét sos dá le. St’ók k’a a fúk k’a sú hné, os fám pa li e fen wi hné fél nolyo yebi. Byóx oth í, sos kwáf k’a sú hné. Xél pa oth! Hox émbe pa xmen hné fél nolyo yebi hox. Tu nólyo da tsúba. Sbét tso mán nolyo t’en ix kxe. Há dá néden od! Yo sémfa xmen hné hu bel su! Sémfa oth a k’ú oth il boyo!

Translation and more info after the cut!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since I’ll be participating in the LCC 10 Conlang Relay and haven’t done one before, I decided to practice with materials from a previous LCC Conlang Relay!

The text above is a T’owal translation of my attempt at an English translation of a text in Teonaht, a conlang by Sally Caves, itself translated from English, from Jessie Sams (@quothalinguist)’s Hiutsath, from English, from David J. Peterson (@dedalvs)’s Dothraki. That’s the basic idea of a conlang relay: each person receives a text in someone else’s conlang with enough information to be able to translate it, and they produce a translation into their own language for the next person to use. Since the translations and conlang info from the LCC 5 Relay are all available here, I picked a spot in the relay and treated it as if I was next in line!

This practice was sort of “on easy mode” since I knew what the original text was, and Teonaht was surprisingly easy to translate from. A very cool language, too! Sometime soon I’ll practice again using a different past relay.

Regarding the audio, I’m annoyed that I forgot to start with the title, but not enough to go back and edit it in. My pronunciation was a little off in some spots; in particular, I kept mixing up hne and hné, which should have [ɛ] and [ej] as the vowel respectively. I also mixed up some instances of o [ɔ] and ó [ow]. ó well. Levuna’s pronunciation was perfect, though!

So anyway, here’s the English translation of the T’owal text above:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father’s Advice

My child, come to me. Today you will leave your family and ride to the mountains. I will advise you before your journey. Don’t trust any turtle that speaks to you. Turtles cannot burn and will frighten your horse. Eat carrots (which grow in the soil) only during the full moon. The full moon makes the carrots stronger, and also you. Listen to these last words: you must not touch any plum tree. Those trees are your enemies. They will make all people hate you, your horse, and your ancestors. They are completely evil. I will hunt and kill you if you look one time at a plum tree. Know this: I will destroy you. Listen! You must not touch any plum tree. But their fruit is sweet. It may be eaten fresh or dried. It tastes great! Now you must ride, my child! Ride and scream like a goat!

[skrutskie]

The official playlist for THE SALVATION GAMBIT is live!

Before The Salvation Gambit was anything, it was a playlist. Back in 2018, when I was first clobbering together the notion of a team of women getting sentenced to life aboard a mind-warping warship, I had a crystal clear vision for a grungy rock soundtrack that coalesced around tracks like the Gary Clark Jr. cover of Come Together and Thunderpussy’s Speed Queen. The project went on hold for a few years, and when it was finally time to swing back around it, the playlist came back to life, its sound evolving alongside the draft until it reached its final form, which I now present for your listening pleasure.

Like all of my book playlists, it’s a pretty eclectic mix (in my defense, it’s never incorrect to include Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For A Hero and the Bo Burnham song FITS), and it’s arranged roughly in story order. Enjoy!

Tracklist:

Sympathy For The Devil - The Rolling Stones

Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome - The Mountain Goats

Hot Mess - Friday Pilots Club

Let’s go to Hell - Tai Verdes

Invaders Must Die - The Prodigy

Come Together - Gary Clark Jr., Junkie XL

Feel It Still - Portugal. The Man

Speed Queen - Thunderpussy

I’m So Sorry - Imagine Dragons

Easier than Lying - Halsey

Raise Hell - Dorothy

The Devil You Know - X Ambassadors

Seize the Power - YONAKA

Don’t Go Dark - Bleachers

The Lighthouse - Halsey

Venus Fly Trap - MARINA

Chapstick - COIN

YES MOM - Tessa Violet

Honey Lungs - Said The Whale

Choke - Royal & the Serpent

I am not a woman, I’m a god - Halsey

Shade of Yellow - Griff

Everlasting Light - The Black Keys

Boss Bitch - Doja Cat

Demons - Hayley Kiyoko

Breakdown - Tessa Violet

Holding Out for a Hero - Bonnie Tyler

Hell of a Ride - Bo Burnham

Knock Me Out - Vintage Trouble

How You Like Me Now - The Heavy

[ducksbellorum]

et focis (listen/download)

a chbolc mix - part two - arranged by ducksbellorum

welcome to the party - diplo We on fire Ride up to the party, Ride up to the party Ayy, live it up

this year - the mountain goats There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year I am going to make it through this year if it kills me

is he worthy - chris tomlin Is He worthy? Is He worthy Of all blessing and honor and glory? Is He worthy of this? He is

not a pretty girl - ani difranco And I have earned my disillusionment I have been working all of my life And I am a patriot I have been fighting the good fight

happy - pharrell williams Well, I should probably warn ya, I'll be just fine No offense to you, don’t waste your time, here's why

wilson (expensive mistakes) - fall out boy And when I say I'm sorry I'm late I wasn't showing up at all I really mean I didn't plan on showing up at all

you say - lauren daigle The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me In You, I find my worth, in You, I find my identity

hollaback girl - gwen stefani So I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out

big houses - squalloscope We follow our own steps, while our shadows keep watching us The wrong step would be not to start this exodus

blessings - big sean I'm here for a good time, not a long time, you know I haven't had a good time in a long time, you know

the sound of silence - simon and garfunkel And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls And whispered in the sound of silence"

a thousand miles - vanessa carlton It's always times like these when I think of you And I wonder if you ever think of me

chant ii - hadestown Oh, he said he’d shelter us He said he’d harbor me He said we’d soldier on And then the war would bring us peace

youth of the nation - p.o.d. There's gotta be more to life than this There's gotta be more to everything I thought exists We are, we are, the youth of the nation

eastbound and down - jerry reed We gonna do what they say can't be done We've got a long way to go and a short time to get there

toes - zac brown band I got my toes in the water, ass in the sand Not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand

fix you - coldplay And I will try to fix you Tears stream down your face When you lose somethin' you cannot replace

stay alive (reprise) - hamilton I know, I know. Shh I know, I know Shh. I know you did Ev’rything just right

there’s a fine fine line - avenue q You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime There's a fine, fine line between love And a waste of time

the star spangled banner Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto—"In God is our Trust;" ⁠And the star-spangled Banner in triumph shall wave, O'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

[alliements]

Arkansas

We had a great week exploring the beautiful state of Arkansas hiking, spa’ing, and art-ing. Hot Springs in the Ouachita Mountains was bohemian, outdoorsy, and fun. The trailheads are directly behind bath house row. Goat Rock Trail is a great hike, you could see natural springs bubbling up at various places. We visited two bathhouses, Buckstaff, and the Quapaw. At Buckstaff you soak in tubs, and are given a toga-sheet to wrap up in as you go from station to station (steam, sitz, etc). Quapaw has 5 large communal pools and everyone wears a bathing suit. Tbh, Buckstaff was the Gulag of spas. Everything was cold except the water they gave you to drink. My towel got wet, which made it even colder, and my attendant refused my request for a dry towel. I sipped my ketchup cup of hot water and tried to relax. The folks at Quapaw were delightful and we went all in.

Bentonville, a 4 hour drive north, has poured big money into developing mountain biking trails. It has a cute downtown with great restaurants, bike shops, etc. If you don’t mountain bike, the only thing to do is the Crystal Bridges Museum, but you can make a day of it hiking their 120 acre estate with trails and outdoor sculpture. They had a nighttime interactive exhibit called the Listening Forest which was beautiful. The museum itself is stunning architecturally, and the contemporary art collection is outstanding. It’s all American art—think Thomas Moran/Hudson River School and Georgia OKeefe.

Founded by Alice Walton, the WalMart empress, the museum is built with Walmart money, celebrates everything American, and as one might expect, is quite flashy. The building itself is stunning, and it seems the building is perhaps of greater value than what’s inside. Some of the exhibits are as much American history as they are art, so one might guess, bias exists. Remember that money talks, and in this case, this is a private museum with a single conservative donor. I am sure the curators walk on eggshells a bit. While I appreciate this massive support for the arts by one of America’s largest corporations, it just can’t go unsaid that money talks, and is this case, so does one of Walmart’s largest stockholders who funded a rather white-washed exhibit on American democracy.

·        The exhibit We the People is called a “diverse perspective of equality and democracy.” It includes documents and art about the struggle for civil liberties in America. There were wonderful pieces about the civil rights movement of the 1960’s, art by indigenous Americans, and Japanese Americans during the WWII internment camps.

·        Shockingly, there was NO mention of women’s rights. the 19th amendment, or the ERA, other than one painting of suffragettes; and nor do they mention LGBTGA rights. As I exited, I thought, surely there must be another room? Nope. So, I turned around and went back in via the exit door to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I didn’t. I did enjoy seeing the Mark Bradford painting in that section. There is some hidden  text, but it is obscured to such a degree that the reference is unknown. Bradford is one of my favorite painters but I don’t understand the meaning of this piece in this exhibit.

·        I did some research. This exhibit is sponsored by Kenneth C Griffin, a wealthy hedge fund manager who owns a large stake of WalMart stock and is one of the richest men in the world. He bought the copy of the Constitution on display ($43 million) and is also a GOP mega doner. It sounds like the museum curator attended the Sotheby’s auction alongside Griffin when he purchased it.

·        Also of note is the exhibit does not state the documents are copies, it implies they are originals which is rather showy, IMHO. There are 26 copies of the Declaration of Independence, 11 of the Constitution, and whew, they can be bought. I don’t get it.

·        I like my art hung at eye-level where I can see it. They got fancy and thought it would look good to hang art all the way up some 20 foot walls. It does look good but I can’t actually see it.

·        Some sections had NO tags identifying the painting, just one QR code for the entire section, and it was difficult to navigate. QR codes should be used in addition to tags not in lieu of.

·        Lastly…half the main building is dedicated a snack bar.

Headed home we again saw the lovely Bass Pro Shops Memphis Pyramid Mega Store complete with saltwater aquarium, indoor quail hunting, a piranha pool, zip line over an alligator pit. And the floor is hot lava, I hear.

‘Merica, baby!

[emeraldskulblaka]

Here’s my transcript of the scene with updated lines and lyrics 💚

SAM: Mr Frodo? (holds the door open)

FRODO: Thank you, Sam!

SAM: You always said you wanted an adventure, Mr Frodo.

FRODO: Well, my feet didn’t. Let’s not stand in their way. Come on!

SAM: There’s a road calling you to stray.

FRODO: That's Uncle Bilbo’s song!

SAM: Step by step pulling you away

They travel, their journey shaped by shadowy watchful figures. These are the RANGERS of the North and are always unseen by the Hobbits. They open paths for FRODO and SAM through the woods.

BOTH: 

Under moon and star

Take the road no matter how far.

FRODO:

Where it leads no-one ever knows

Don’t look back, follow where it goes.

BOTH:

Far beyond the sun take the road

Wherever it runs.

SAM & FRODO:

The Road goes on, ever ever on.

Hill by hill, mile by mile,

Field by field, stile by stile. 

The road goes on, ever ever on.

RANGERS of the North (simultaneously): 

Mountain and valley and pasture and meadow

Stretching unending for mile after mile

Fenland and moorland and shoreline and canyon

Bordered by hurdle and hedgerow and stile.

SAM & FRODO: 

So behind the moon and beyond the sun

Step by step where the road may run.

The trees open into a glade. Loud noises can be heard.

SAM: What was that?

FRODO: An animal?

SAM: That’s like no animal I’ve ever heard.

Two figures (MERRY and PIPPIN) jump out, screaming. A struggle.

MERRY: Ow! Frodo, I give in.

PIPPIN: Sam, please.

FRODO: Merry? Pippin? What are you two doing here?

MERRY and PIPPIN exchange a look.

MERRY: We’re not stupid.

PIPPIN: We know who your visitor was.

MERRY: We’ve worked it out. If Mr Gandalf the Grey is involved in this, it must be something big.

PIPPIN: And you’re not getting mixed up in something big, Frodo…

BOTH: Without us.

FRODO: Please go home. This may be dangerous.

MERRY: We’re your cousins, Frodo. You can trust us to keep any secret. And to stick with you through thick and thin.

PIPPIN: And if you won’t let us come with you, then we’ll just follow.

MERRY: So? How about it?

FRODO: I don’t appear to have much choice, do I?

PIPPIN: Hmm... No, you don’t.

FRODO: Well, alright. 

PIPPIN: No, not that way. Too many trees. You know I’m scared of trees.

MERRY: Come on Pip, that was a long time ago. I spent hours around here when I was young. I know some less tree-ish ways. Alright?

PIPPIN: Alright.

One more mile, then it’s time to eat.

Pick some pears, succulent and sweet.

PIPPIN & MERRY: 

To the farthest shore 

Take the road a hundred miles more.

MERRY: 

Sweet pink trout tickled from a stream.

Milk a goat, churn it into cream.

PIPPIN & MERRY: 

Far beyond the sun

Take the road wherever it runs.

PIPPIN & MERRY: 

The road goes on, ever ever on.

Moor by moor, glen by glen,

Vale by vale, fen by fen.

The road goes on, ever ever on.

FRODO, SAM, RANGERS (simultaneously):

See the road flows past your doorstep

Calling for your feet to stray.

Like a deep and rolling river

It will sweep them far away.

The RANGERS open more paths before them. As they travel, they arrive in strange lands and an Elvish note is added to the music.

ALL: 

Just beyond the far horizon 

Lies a waiting world unknown

Like the dawn its beauty beckons

With a wonder all its own.

SAM: Listen to that!

FRODO: Sh!

ELVES appear, led by ELRÁNIEN.

ELRÁNIEN: Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo!

[translation (Q): A star shines on the hour of our meeting.]

MERRY: What in the name of wonder…?

SAM: (in wonder) Elves.

ELRÁNIEN: This is indeed wonderful! Four hobbits in a wood at night. Almië, Frodo Baggins.

[translation (Q): Blessings]

FRODO: How do you know my name?

ELRÁNIEN: You are wise to ask questions, Elf-friend. Especially in these days. Peril is before you and behind you, and upon either side.

MERRY: Peril?

PIPPIN: Ah. Maybe we should turn back.

MERRY: We’re not turning back, Pippin.

PIPPIN: No, of course not, Merry. But we might… find another path? Or plan more.

ELRÁNIEN: The Elves know of your journey, Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Samwise Gamgee. Much may hang on your great task.

MERRY & PIPPIN: What great task?

ELRÁNIEN: Farewell.

FRODO:  Wait!

ELRÁNIEN: The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out. May you pass on roads without shadow. Namárië. Vantalye tiennar avalumbulë.

[translation (Q): Farewell. May you pass on roads without shadow.]

The ELVES exit. The HOBBITS gasp in wonder.

ELVES: 

Númenna! Auta i ré.

Yallume! Hilya!

[translation (Q): Into the west! The day is passing. It is here at last! Follow!]

SAM: Elves. Now that was an eye-opener and no mistake.

PIPPIN: But what are they doing so far west? I’ve never heard about Elves around here.

MERRY: So what is this great task then, Frodo?

FRODO: You’re not going to like it. I’ll tell you as we go. Come on!

They exit.

A huge shout-out to @elrenniel for helping me figure out the Elvish words and translations!

the road goes on from LOTR's 3rd preview at the watermill!

[peach-pot]

I think this is like. a pretty good summary of me and my music taste at the moment :-)

[the-fiction-witch]

Princess P1

MOVIE NANNY MCPHEE COUPLE: SIMON X READER RATING: FIGHTS!

I sat in the grass doing my best to avoid doing any work. Playing with my wooden trucks and trains in the dirt. I had hoped for some privacy given my family it's a rare thing to have a moment alone, but even out here I couldn't escape stupidity. Just the other side of the small wooden fence sat the perfectly manicured grass and garden of our neighbors the y/l/n's. And sat in said grass beside a bed of tulips sat her. I hated her stupid little jumped up princess who thinks she's better then everyone else simply because her graden is prettier, because her house is painted such a sweet pastel, because her family spoils her far beyond rotten I hated her and everything she stands for.

She spotted me looking at her and glared back at me

"I should have known that was you simon. I could smell you from my bedroom"

"Well sorry Mi lady. Perhaps I should rub Myself on your gussied up imported roses"

"Don't you dare touch my rose house simon! You'll get your grubby little mitts on the glass" she says "when was the last time you even had a bath simon"

'last week! In a family of eight plus a maid and cook that's pretty damn regular"

"Disgusting, there is so much dirt under your nails you could grow potatoes"

"Well sorry Mi lady not all of us get our lavender infused daily bath in goats milk"

"I do not bathe in milk!"

"Ohh must have mistook you for cleopatra, another stupid rich little brat!"

"She was a beautiful intelligent queen! Not that you would know Simon, you only learn your history up to a cave man because that's as far as you ever evolved!"

"That's it!" I climbed the fence and began pulling on her hair she of course screamed and began kicking and punching me so I did it back until we were both dirty and bruised our hair and clothes out of place she has even torn my shirt when my father and hers pulled us apart

"Simon! What on earth what that about?"

"She called me a cave man"

"Well you are!" She yelled "he pulled my hair and ripped my dress daddy"

"Ohh princess you poor thing, tell me who started it"

"Simon did!"

"No I didn't she did!" I yelled

"I don't care who started it I'm ending it" my father says "simon apologize"

"But-"

"Now!"

"Sorry y/n"

"Y/n" her father spoke up

"Sorry simon"

"Alright, come on then princess well go and take care of you new pony" he says ushering her away

"Your in big trouble" my father says pulling me back by my arm "do you have any idea what her father could do to us if she got hurt"

"I don't care she's mean to me"

"Yes but her father could buy and sell us and everything we own so be nice." He told me "go on go clean the pigs out"

"Father-"

"Go"

"You never listen! To anything I have to say!" I yelled before running off to my room.

I stood so angry I basically had smoke coming from my ears, we were having a party for one of my sister's and my father insisted we invite them from next door the mere fact she was in our garden was enough to make me angry and the fact she was ignoring me! Like I didn't even exist.

I wanted to kill her,  suck up little princess.

we of course ended up beside each other at the party and I didn't even look at her just as she had been ignoring me

"Evening Simon"

"Evening y/n"

"I see you had your one bath of the year"

"I see you have a new dress again, another to add to your mountain of fabric. I swear at this point you must be using your gowns for curtains and bedsheets"

"No Simon, some of us don't use old clothes to weave old blankets"

"Spoilt little princess!"

"dirty little rat!"

"spoilt brat!"

"trash boy!"

we started screaming insults back and forth getting louder and louder until she slapped me, so I pulled on her hair hard, she grabbed my shirt ripping it as we both started screaming and physically fighting which of cause drew attention and our fathers pulled us apart

"What on earth is your roughen of a boy doing to my daughter!"

"Well I- Simon what were you doing to her"

"She hit me! she slapped me!" I argued

"He started it" she argues

"that's a lie she started it"

"we are going home princess, I see your garbage boy anywhere near my daughter again we will have some serious problems Mr Brown" Her father warned before taking her home

"Simon." my father glares pushing me inside the house and shutting the door as we had already made enough of a scene "what have I told you! I though you was over this! enough! I see you near her again your grounded. don't touch her, talk to her, hell don't even look at her Simon."

"But she started-"

"I don't care! Simon. We are a family of twelve, Do you understand how much we struggle?"

"Fath-"

"Do you?"

".... I do" I nodded

"No..."

"Mr Y/l/n is our landlord. he owns our house has done for the last six years. he is also the land lord for the funeral office. so he's also my boss. Do you understand what would happen if he decided to be angry with us"

"Simon. You're growing up now. And part of being a grown-up is understanding the bigger picture. I know that for whatever reason you don't like y/n but sometimes we have to be social with people we don't like, we have to grit our teeth and smile through the pain especially when those people are important" he explained "Go on up to your room"

"But I-

"Go."

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I’ve just gotten home from a trip out of town with my best friend, and I picked the music during the road trip home, and I put on some Gavin Osborn. A few minutes into the song, my friend asked me, “What’s the name of this band?” I said it’s just one guy, Gavin Osborn, and whatever the reason he thinks he recognizes it, I’m pretty sure he’s wrong. Because I haven’t introduced him to Gavin Osborn before, and I realize we’ve all agreed that saying “Here’s my music, you’ve probably never heard of it” makes someone and asshole, but in this instance, I’m really quite sure my friend would not have come across Gavin Osborn via any route besides me playing it for him.

He told me he thought he recognized the music, but he must be wrong. I asked him who he thought it was, and he said, “I can’t remember what they’re called, the Walking Dead band.” I haven’t seen The Walking Dead, so this didn’t help a lot, when he started describing the scene from that show during which a song by the band he was trying to think of had played. Finally he said: “I think they might be called Mountain Goats?”

My best friend heard a few minutes of a Gavin Osborn song and thought he was listening to the Mountain Goats, which I really like just because I’m quite sure Gavin Osborn would take that as a massive compliment. He could put it on his tour posters. “Gavin Osborn: Got mistaken for the Mountain Goats once”.

I think the Mountain Goats are a good band but I don’t find that most of their songs are amazing enough to live up to all the hype around them (some exceptions, Colour in Your Cheeks gets to me every time and obviously No Children, no one can fail to love No Children), so I do actually like Gavin Osborn better than the Mountain Goats. You could play this song during a scene from The Walking Dead, right?

[cryptic-symbols]

Woah hello thank you for thinking I am cool. Questions!

Last song I listened to: This Must Be the Place by Talking Heads because I’m SAD and I needed my comfort song. Its actually my all time fav song

Favourite colour: dark blue! specifically I like that deep vibrant blue of dusk

Currently watching: I don’t watch a lot of TV in general so only Grey’s Anatomy (its horrible. I cant stop). I’m always spiritually watching Our Flag Means Death

Sweet/savoury/spicy: savoury. sweet I can’t do too well and I have a super low spice tolerance ;w;

Current obsession: this is a mountain goats blog that I created because I am currently obsessed with the mountain goats. nuff said

Last thing I googled: I actually don’t have the ability to look this up rn but I think it was crossword puzzle maker or something along those lines

Favourite season: fall! its got perfect weather, childhood in new england meant trees turning colours, and often new beginnings in my life

Skills I would like to learn: being good at video games, drag makeup, how to sing better

Best advice: listen to your body and really hear what its telling you, and give it what it wants to the best of your ability. The best way to start loving yourself better is to let yourself rest. Caring for yourself is important AND HARD when so much of contemporary culture rides on denying yourself basic pleasures or pushing yourself too hard.

some cool people: @heelturndeux @spritespi @paidincocaine @erebus-and-nyx @thisbleedingheart

Nine A few cool people to get to know

Hello besties! My lovely friend @melpomene-grey tagged me to do this fun questionnaire thing - so here are my answers!

Last song I listened to: so I’m actually listening to my playlist as a write this lol! The song I’m listening to right now is what a time to be alive by superchunk

Favourite colour: RED! It’s been my favourite colour since I was a teeny tiny child and I love it a lot! I also like dark blue and dark green a lot too!

Currently watching: I’m not actually actively binging anything right now - but uh I’ll compromise and say the last thing I watched instead… it was the bluey 28 minute special.. I cried..

Sweet/savoury/spicy: Sweet! Always! I love sweet foods!

Current obsession: TMG (I know what a shock!). That’s the main one um but I’m also very obsessed with possums, and I’m really into dragons (happy birthday to in league with dragons btw (ik it was yesterday sorry))

Last thing I googled: Chow chows (the dog). This is because I saw one and couldn’t remember what breed it was (I was pretty sure it was a chow chow but I googled it to check - I was right)

Favourite season: Spring or autumn since I don’t like being too hot or too cold! Probably spring mostly, because my birthday is in spring (it was earlier this week actually :D)

Skills I would like to learn: So many things!! I would love to learn to crochet and to write songs. I also am starting to learn electric guitar which I’ve always wanted to do. I also want to learn more artistic techniques such as sculpture.. wood burning.. printmaking.. various others

Best advice: Be kind and respectful to people, it always is appreciated! Also always try to see the good in people :)

Now it’s my turn to tag people! So I will tag @mistdrake @satansapartments @jennyfromthebes @zoneitout @cryptic-symbols and @swampyboggins since they all seem to be very cool (btw if you got tagged, there’s absolutely no obligation for any of you to do it if you don’t want to!)

I’m also tagging everybody ever: if anybody wants to do this absolutely go for it!

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Jon V (Chapter 43)

The call came drifting through the black of night. Jon pushed himself onto an elbow, his hand reaching for Longclaw by force of habit as the camp began to stir. The horn that wakes the sleepers, he thought.

We’re starting with horns! Where might this be going?

+.+

Jon knew Qhorin Halfhand the instant he saw him, though they had never met. The big ranger was half a legend in the Watch; a man of slow words and swift action, tall and straight as a spear, long-limbed and solemn. Unlike his men, he was clean-shaven. His hair fell from beneath his helm in a heavy braid touched with hoarfrost, and the blacks he wore were so faded they might have been greys.

Jon thought Jaime looked more like a king than Robert, he knew Qhorin the instant he saw him, and later he’ll mistake Styr for Mance based on his appearance. I don’t know, it just reminds me of someone.

Anyway, Qhorin Halfhand’s blacks were so faded they might have been greys...

Good wool, thick, a double weave, damp but not rotted. It could not have been long in the ground. And it was dark. He seized a handful and pulled it close to the torch. Not dark. Black. - Jon IV, ACOK

Not those blacks though.

+.+

The ranger gave his horse into the care of one of his men and followed. "You are Jon Snow. You have your father's look."

(...)

Qhorin glanced behind. "It is said that a direwolf runs with you."    

I bet he knows Jon is a warg.

+.+

Only last night, he was coming back through the dark from a piss when he heard five or six men talking in low voices around the embers of a fire. When he heard Chett muttering that it was past time they turned back, Jon stopped to listen. "It's an old man's folly, this ranging," he heard. "We'll find nothing but our graves in them mountains."

"There's giants in the Frostfangs, and wargs, and worse things," said Lark the Sisterman.

"I'll not be going there, I promise you."

"The Old Bear's not like to give you a choice."                

"Might be we won't give him one," said Chett.

(...)

He considered taking the tale to Mormont, but he could not bring himself to inform on his brothers, even brothers such as Chett and the Sisterman. It was just empty talk, he told himself.

Jon dismissing discontentment felt by his brothers. Please don’t make a habit of this.

+.+

The warhorn he had given to Sam. On closer examination the horn had proved cracked, and even after he had cleaned all the dirt out, Jon had been unable to get any sound from it. The rim was chipped as well, but Sam liked old things, even worthless old things. "Make a drinking horn out of it," Jon told him, "and every time you take a drink you'll remember how you ranged beyond the Wall, all the way to the Fist of the First Men."

Speaking of horns, here’s a very long description of an insignificant one.

+.+

The Halfhand helped himself to an egg and cracked it on the edge of the bowl. "These kings will do what they will," he said, peeling away the shell. "Likely it will be little enough. The best hope is Winterfell. The Starks must rally the north."

The Starks will rally the north.

+.+

"Patrols, aye. Twice a day, if we can. The Wall itself is a formidable obstacle. Undefended, it cannot stop them, yet it will delay them. The larger the host, the longer they'll require. From the emptiness they've left behind, they must mean to bring their women with them. Their young as well, and beasts . . . have you ever seen a goat climb a ladder? A rope? They will need to build a stair, or a great ramp . . . it will take a moon's turn at the least, perhaps longer. Mance will know his best chance is to pass beneath the Wall. Through a gate, or . . ."

I think it’s a bit strange we’re discussing the prospect of traveling underneath the big magic Wall immediately after that Davos chapter.

"He was unprotected. But here . . . this Storm's End is an old place. There are spells woven into the stones. Dark walls that no shadow can pass—ancient, forgotten, yet still in place."    

(...)

The tunnel opened on a cavern under the castle, where the storm lords of old had built their landing. - Davos II, ACOK

+.+

"They do not plan to climb the Wall nor to burrow beneath it, my lord. They plan to break it."

"The Wall is seven hundred feet high, and so thick at the base that it would take a hundred men a year to cut through it with picks and axes."

"Even so."

"How else? Sorcery." Qhorin bit the egg in half. "Why else would Mance choose to gather his strength in the Frostfangs? Bleak and hard they are, and a long weary march from the Wall."

(...)

"Perhaps," said Qhorin, finishing the egg, "but there is more, I think. He is seeking something in the high cold places. He is searching for something he needs."

Mance Rayder is looking for something, but what could it be?? Where could we find the answer??

+.+

But at last he said, "May the gods forgive me. Choose your men."

Qhorin Halfhand turned his head. His eyes met Jon's, and held them for a long moment. "Very well. I choose Jon Snow."

(...)

"We ride at noon," the ranger told him. "Best find that wolf of yours."

See, he wants the wolf!

Final thoughts:

It’s undoubtedly significant, but I’m not sure I buy that horn can take down the wall.

Also I’m just going to say it, Qhorin Halfhand was super lame on the show.

-> return to menu <-

[julek]

a humble offering to @west-moor and @kueble, for bringing this post to life. they’re very dumb, your honor. | read on ao3

It starts at dinner one night. 

They settled in a few days ago, bringing the ice cold from the mountains and the snow with them, after trudging up the Killer for two weeks. They sit at the wooden table and before them stands Vesemir’s famous roast, the one Geralt had told Jaskier all about. 

Geralt helps himself to some potatoes, and gestures to Jaskier’s plate. “You want some?”

Before Jaskier can nod, Lambert cuts him off. “Darling,” he says with a pointed tone.

Geralt turns to him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “What?”

“You seemed to have forgotten you were speaking to your bard, there,” Lambert quips, and sits back with a knowing smirk. “Just wanted to help you out.”

Geralt blinks. “Uh.”

Jaskier notices the way he’s frozen in place, and gently touches his forearm, ignoring Lambert’s non-sequitur. “I’d love some, Geralt. Thank you.” 

“Uh,” Geralt repeats, and doesn’t take his eyes off Lambert as he fills Jaskier’s plate. “Sure.”

+

Jaskier pads into the kitchen the next morning, eyes still fuzzy with sleep and an old, worn woolen sweater hanging off his shoulder. Geralt looks up from his bowl of kasha and smiles. 

“Morning,” Jaskier mumbles, and sits down at the table. 

“Good morning.”

The shout comes from the pantry, followed by the unmistakable sound of pans and cups clattering. “Morning, honey!” 

Jaskier narrows his eyes, and looks at Geralt for help. He shakes his head. “Um. Hi?” 

Out of the pantry walks Lambert, hands full of baking ingredients, a flour scar crossing his cheek. “How’d ya sleep, sweetheart?”

Jaskier decidedly does not blush a bright shade of red. He doesn’t. “Well, that’s just— thank you, Lambert, for asking. I slept well, even though this keep’s freezing cold and my bed was entirely too big for one fragile bard such as myself.”

Lambert frowns. “What do you mean, too big? You’re not sharing with Geralt?”

Geralt chokes on his kasha, momentarily. Jaskier snorts and shakes his head. “No, I’m staying in the east wing.”

“Ah,” Lambert says, a wolfish grin on his face as he ties the apron behind his back. “That’s… interesting.”

He shoots Geralt a look that’s there a second and gone the next, and Jaskier would’ve missed it, if not for the developed skill of observing Witchers and their fleeting emotions. Still, it’s a look he can’t decipher, a mix of amusement and mischief. Best not to find out, he decides. 

“So, Lambert,” he starts, a touch louder than he should. “What’s that you’re making?”

+

Geralt had warned him, Jaskier thinks in retrospect, that Lambert was a bit weird. An acquired taste. And he is, Jaskier won’t deny it, but he’s also incredibly unpredictable — his gruff demeanor and rough disposition always, without fail, betray the sweet words that leave his mouth. 

He’d been brushing the horses down when Lambert ruffled his hair and called him dear. Geralt nearly dropped his sword one morning, when Jaskier walked out onto the courtyards and Lambert called out hello, sunshine. On their way to the library to get absolutely smashed, a gentle touch to his elbow and little bird. 

They’re all incredibly sweet, incredibly unexpected delicacies, and Jaskier doesn’t know what to make of them. Sure, Lambert isn’t horrible to look at in the slightest, what with the entire lean-body, scarred-face look he has going on, with the playful teasing and easy smiles he gets out of him. He’s objectively handsome, and funny, and kind, when he has to be, and Jaskier has let him know, many times. He hasn’t been exactly subtle in feeling his muscles through his linen shirts and sending looks his way whenever he’s said something salacious and tempting — signs so clear even the brother of one of the Continent’s most oblivious Witcher could read them. Which is why it’s so infuriatingly confusing, the fact that name-calling is all Lambert’s got for him. 

And it’s not lost to him at all, the way Geralt frowns and fiddles with his medallion whenever Lambert lets a honey-sweet pet name slip. He doesn’t miss the way Geralt stubbornly looks straight ahead, focused on absolutely nothing at all, nor the way his mouth twitches, almost, almost resembling a pout. 

It’s amusing, to say the least.

+

“Well, I’m off to bed, my wonderful friends,” Jaskier announces one night, after playing a few annoying renditions of Toss a Coin, until he got Eskel to break and beg him to stop. 

The wolves say their goodbyes, and just as Jaskier’s about to leave the Great Hall, Lambert calls after him. 

“Night, love,” he says, offhandedly, and continues his conversation with Eskel, as if nothing had happened. 

Jaskier scans the room, and his eyes fall on Geralt, who’s trying very hard to remain seated, even when his knuckles are white and his leg is bouncing wildly enough to propel him into the night sky. His amber gaze follows Lambert’s movements and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say Geralt was about to throttle his brother. 

“Hmm.” He murmurs. “Goodnight, Lambert. Goodnight, Geralt.”

Jaskier smiles sweetly and leaves the room at a leisurely pace. He can feel Geralt’s eyes on his back.

+

One particularly chilly afternoon, Jaskier’s leaving the library when he hears voices that carry through the hall. 

“Well? Gonna explain yourself?”

Oh, the middle-aged woman that lives inside Jaskier’s heart and loves to gossip jumps up and down in joy at the prospect of what seems to be a very interesting conversation. He slips out of the room and presses his back to the wall, even when he knows the Witchers could sense his presence. It’s more fun if there’s a risk to get caught, he reasons. 

Lambert’s voice is low, and Jaskier can hear his smug smile as he says, “Well, you weren’t doing anything about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Geralt’s voice echoes. 

“It means, you thick-headed idiot,” Lambert drags the words out, like he’s speaking to a child. If Jaskier’s quiet, he can hear the way Geralt’s blood boils in his veins. “That you’ve been walking in circles for too long. Jaskier’s here.” At the mention of his name, the bard perks up. 

“I know that, Lambert. I invited him. What’s that got to do with this— this sweet talking thing you’ve got going on? It’s weird. Creeps me out.”

“What? I can be decent when needs must!” Comes Lambert’s offended retort. “What I’m saying, pretty boy, is that he’s a good thing, the kind that Witchers never get to have. Not that you own him or anything— it’s just. He’s good, and he’s obviously waited for you to make a move, sometime in this past decade. He’s here, for fuck’s sake— in an old ruin in the middle of fucking nowhere, holed up with four Witchers and a goat, nothing else. Ain’t exactly a walk in the park.”

Jaskier stands very still, his heart beating out of his chest. 

“Hmm. I still— I don’t deserve him.”

Lambert laughs. “Well, too bad, then. You can’t come to me with that self-deprecating shit, I’m not Eskel. But, fuck, if you don’t deserve him, who the fuck does? Certainly not me, but— I need you to listen very closely— he won’t wait forever. He might even settle for me, if you don’t make a move soon.”

“Ugh.” 

“Yeah.”

Geralt’s footsteps echo down the hall, moving closer to Lambert, Jaskier thinks. 

“You’ll stop with the pet names, then?” 

Lambert laughs, again. “Absolutely not. It’s too fun seeing you get all hot and bothered.” He steps out of the room, thankfully, in the opposite direction, and calls out, “Don’t fuck it up!”

Jaskier lets out a breath and slides to the floor, gathering the new information in his brain. Geralt wants him. He wants him, and worst of all, thinks he’s undeserving — damn him and his humility. He lets out a laugh in disbelief. 

Geralt wants him. 

+

The next morning, when Jaskier walks into the kitchen, he’s greeted by a blushing Geralt. 

“Hi,” Jaskier says, an amused smile curling his lips, and sits down at the table. “How are you this morning, dear?”

Geralt pushes a bowl in his direction, a bit too strongly. “Good.” He coughs. “Uh, I’m good… Sugar face.” 

“Huh?” Jaskier stops mid-bite. He quickly regains his composure. “Um— that’s good, I’m glad, yeah.” 

Geralt grimaces, and an awkward silence follows. Jaskier digs into his breakfast with more enthusiasm than necessary, until Lambert walks in, firewood under both arms. 

“Lambert! Thank the Gods— I mean, uh, it’s so good to see you. It’s a bit chilly this morning, isn’t it? I’m sure you agree, what with coming straight from the great outdoors and such— I’m going to the library, if anyone needs me, uh, just,” he rambles as he washes his bowl, “just call. You know. My name. Jaskier the bard, ha— that’s me! Anyway, see you.” 

He makes haste to leave the kitchen, and as he walks down the hall, he hears Lambert clicking his tongue. 

“Fuck, Wolf, it’s not even mid-morning.”

+

Jaskier stays in the library until the sweet aroma of Vesemir’s stew reaches the room and his stomach rumbles pleasantly at the thought. Given the way he’d fled the kitchen, he wouldn’t be surprised if no one called him to lunch — they probably thought he was having some sort of stroke, with his word-vomiting and hurried escape. He’s just opened a new book when he hears a knock. 

“Come in,” he says, voice steady.

The door opens, and sure enough, Geralt’s standing at the doorway, a sheepish smile on his face and a terribly endearing flush creeping up his neck. 

“Hey, love,” Jaskier says, because it’s difficult to call him otherwise. “You okay?”

“Hmm.” Geralt walks over to his chair, and stands there awkwardly until Jaskier gestures to a bench next to him. “We’ll have lunch soon.”

Jaskier smiles. “I was just thinking about that. It’s stew, isn’t it? Oh, Vesemir spoils me so.”

“Thought you’d be hungry,” Geralt says, looking at his hands. “You left breakfast early.”

Jaskier pales, then lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh! Yes, well, I had suddenly remembered a book I just had to examine more closely, and—”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s looking at him now, and Jaskier closes his mouth, choosing to look back into his amber eyes and wait for whatever comes. Nothing does, for a while — they just stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak up. Finally, Geralt does. 

“I invited you up here, to spend the winter with me,” he rasps, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of not being close to you, Jaskier, I— I can’t stand it.”

Jaskier’s heart breaks a little. “Geralt.”

“I should’ve asked you to come up here years ago. I wasn’t brave enough. Thought you’d hate the idea.” He grimaces. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats. “When you asked me to come here with you— you have no idea what it meant to me, knowing you still wanted my company. I couldn’t have been happier.”

Geralt sniffs and gives him a weak smile, his white hair falling on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he says, and gestures vaguely at the space between them. “The whole…”

“Calling me disgustingly sweet and somewhat alarming pet names?”

Geralt nods.

“I know, dear heart.” Jaskier takes Geralt’s hands in his own. “I know, and I don’t expect you to.”

“I’d still like to call you something, though,” Geralt says, the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. “Can’t let Lambert best me.” 

Jaskier snorts. “So it’s all about honor, then?” 

Geralt shakes his head. “It’s about you.” 

And oh, he sounds so sincere, so open and fragile, Jaskier can’t find it in himself to tease him any further. 

“You know what I loved the most about traveling to Kaer Morhen with you?”

A tiny frown knits Geralt’s brow. “What?”

“‘T was when we stopped in those hamlets, the ones that aren’t even on maps,” he murmurs. “Where you gather your supplies, where people know you and call you by your name. You know why?”

Geralt shakes his head.

“Because,” Jaskier whispers, bringing their foreheads together, “whenever they asked you about me, about who I was, your answer was always the same.” 

He’s my bard, Geralt had said to the horse trader when they bought a mule. My bard, he’d answered, when the chatty shopkeeper had inquired about the colorful fellow trailing after him. My bard, he’d said with a shrug and a fond smile, as Jaskier and the tailor entwined themselves in an argument about fabrics and the season’s colors.

My bard. 

“You always called me yours.” 

Jaskier closes his eyes when he feels Geralt’s lips on his own, a soft, gentle thing. They move slowly, simply exploring — when they part, there are kisses being pressed to his cheeks, his brow, the corner of his mouth and his jaw.

Geralt smiles at him, and Jaskier smiles back, aware that they probably look like two lovesick fools staring at each other, but far too gone to care. 

“I don’t need flowery names or honey-soaked terms of endearment,” Jaskier assures him. “Being called yours is more than enough.” 

Geralt presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Hmm. Can’t go around claiming you as mine, though. ‘S a bit archaic.”

“Mm. You’re right. Love of my life, my moon and my stars should be enough, then. Rolls off the tongue, even.”

Geralt growls. “Jask.”

“Dearly beloved— no, that’s too formal— I’ve always been fond of Angel, though I doubt I’ve earned that title.” 

Geralt kisses him again, and Jaskier half-suspects it’s less about the tender gesture and more about shutting him up. 

“I’ll think of more, you know. You can’t distract me with kisses forever.”

Geralt huffs a laugh. “Okay.” He pecks his cheek. “Bard.”

“Yours,” Jaskier says smugly. 

Before Geralt can open his mouth, the library door swings open. 

“Fucking finally, Geralt! We’re all so very happy for this revelation, way to go, and all that.” He clasps his hands together. “Now, you both need to get your asses to lunch, otherwise Vesemir will kick you out. Jaskier, baby, please be grossly in love with Geralt later.”

Geralt groans. “Fuck off, Lambert.”

He leaves with a cackle. Jaskier smooths out his doublet, gets up and holds his hand out to Geralt. He grins.

“You coming, sugar face?”

[wherethewordsare]

I’ll Stay with You

Hey everyone, a little up front, this is a major character death fic and nearly 4k long. Be advised. Content warnings include: Bloody and Injury, Fatal Injury, Major Character Death, and Implied misuse of potions. Please be advised before reading! Thank you!

~

There had been no warning. Only the sound of a sword being drawn above him woke Jaskier from an already fitful sleep. He just managed to roll out of the way, Geralt’s name already on his lips. 

A firm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him down to the ground as a volley of arrows whizzed overhead, close enough to ruffle his hair. His heart hammered as they stood, each taking defensive positions. 

It hadn’t been the first platoon Nilfgaard had sent for his witcher and it wouldn’t be the last, but Jaskier would die on his feet before he let anything happen to Geralt. His own short sword connected with flesh and he yanked it back again before swinging for the next soldier. His form had gotten better and he had learned to fight, not just slash and hack under Geralt’s tutelage. 

He wasn’t a witcher though. He wasn’t able to hear the notch of a bow and the release of an arrow as it flew through the throng and buried itself into his thigh. 

Jaskier cried out but kept his feet. He still fought though he was growing faint and the hot wetness that was soaking the outside of his trousers was too much too fast. They needed to get away. 

“Geralt!” He yelled and the witcher was there, his arm wrapped tightly around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him close. 

“Hold on,” Geralt breathed against his shoulder. Magic vibrated in the air around them as Geralt let loose an aard, sending soldiers flying back from them and then another wave of magic as Jaskier broke the talisman around his neck. 

A one way portal dropped them into another clearing miles north of where they had been. Jaskier fell to the ground, gasping as his fingers fumbled for the arrow that was still buried in his leg. 

“Geralt, fuck, help.” He shook as he looked down. There was far too much blood. Even Geralt seemed to go pale as he looked down at the damage. Most of their packs were back where they had been ambushed. The only thing left to them was what Geralt had grabbed, Jaskier’s own pack with only his notebook, a spare shirt, and a salve for minor cuts. 

“Hold on, Jaskier, hold on.” Geralt moved quickly, making quick work of the spare shirt, tearing it into strips and tying above the wound. “Here, take my hand,” he whispered, his voice gentle, his eyes wide with fear. 

 “Geralt- Geralt, dear heart. Listen…” Jaskier swallows and takes Geralt’s hands, lacing their fingers and squeezing as tightly as he can. “If I don’t make it, if you have to go on-” 

Before he could finish his thought, Geralt pulled the arrow from his leg in one smooth motion. Jaskier screamed through clenched teeth, his body shaking from it. Geralt was quick to bandage him up, all the while murmuring softly to Jaskier. 

“There’s an oversized bed with your name on it at the keep, you just have to stay with me,” Geralt said, his eyes never leaving the wound. 

Jaskier took back Geralt’s hand after it was done with the bandages and squeezed it again, this time barely having the strength to press down into that firm palm. 

“Always, dear heart, always going to stay with you.” He licked his lips and gave a wet laugh. It was now or never or he was going to go to his very early grave regretting it. 

“I know where we are. This is the tail end of the path into the Blue Mountains. We’re so close I can smell Eskel’s goats.” Geralt was worried. He only talked like this with sick children and shriveled old women he couldn’t save. 

Jaskier only swallowed and nodded. They set camp that night and in the morning began the long and painful trek into the mountains. 

~

Three days. They had been on the move for three days. Every hour, Jaskier could feel his strength leaving him and every hour he tried to make Geralt face him, to hear the words he needed to say before…

Jaskier sat against a cave wall, shivering as sweat soaked through his shirt. His leg had been itching like mad since he had woken up and he feared that there had been more to that arrow than just steel. He wondered if Geralt had smelled it on him, if that was what was causing the Witcher to climb as quickly as they could into the mountains, to where there might be safety. 

He looked across the small fire where Geralt cooked two winter-thin hares. He looked haggard with the closest thing Jaskier had ever seen to true fear on his witcher. 

“Geralt?” He croaked, his voice cracking. 

“Hmm?” Geralt didn’t even look up, seeming to instead find anything else to look at than Jaskier’s fading body. 

Jaskier gave a sad smile and weakly patted the bedroll next to him. “It’s going to be cold tonight. Why don’t we have those for breakfast and you come get some sleep?” 

Geralt looked up at him then, his face drawn into something he couldn’t interpret but took the rabbits off the flames and nodded. 

He crossed the small space and slipped in next to Jaskier, pulling him gently down until they were tucked in the bedroll, his arms winding around the bard with barely a word. He felt rigid and unsure under Jaskier’s hands as he shifted, careful of the wounded leg. 

Jaskier pressed in close to Geralt’s chest and timed his breathing to the sound of the witcher’s heartbeat under his ear. Geralt, for his part, wrapped his arms around Jaskier and held him close, burying his nose into his hair. He thought with a faint chuckle that he must have reeked but Geralt didn’t seem to mind, only pressing in closer. 

Sleep came for Jaskier sooner than he thought it would. He did not dream, nor did he really notice the pain. All he could feel as he drifted off were warm, though chapped, lips pressing to his forehead and words he couldn’t quite catch. 

They sounded like “Stay with me”.

~

When morning came, Jaskier couldn’t explain what he was doing standing near the entrance of the cave, looking in where Geralt was still huddled with his back to him. His head felt foggy like he couldn’t quite remember what it was he was doing. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called suddenly, “Jaskier!” 

“I’m right here,” Jaskier took a step towards Geralt and found that his legs felt sound under him. 

“Jaskier…” Geralt sat up, leaning over something in front of him, his shoulders shaking. “No, no no, you fucking idiot, no. Not like this, Jask, please.” There was panic in Geralt’s voice and he was on his knees leaning down. 

Jaskier stood frozen behind him as he watched over Geralt’s shoulder, where he, Jaskier, lay, pale and blue-lipped. 

Geralt leaned down, trying to breathe life into his body, Jaskier's name a chant on his lips between every curse and promise he could make. Jaskier touched his own lips as they seemed to tingle for a moment but then the feeling was gone. 

Geralt only pressed against his chest a few times but seemed to quickly give up before gathering Jaskier into his arms, his nose pressing back into his hair. 

“Jaskier, no. I’m sorry, I’m so… I…” There was a choking sound echoing in the cave and Jaskier realized it was broken sobs as Geralt only held his lifeless body closer. 

“Geralt, dear heart, I’m still- You don’t have to be sorry, Geralt. You’re safe, that’s all I could ask for.” Jaskier came around the other side and dropped to his knees, his hands reaching out for Geralt as he sat there, rocking back and forth on the frozen stone floor. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. We weren’t supposed to end like this.” He wanted to scream.

“You were supposed to stay, Jask. You were supposed to stay with me.” 

“Always,” Jaskier promised, “I’m always going to be here. I’m not going anywhere, Geralt. I love you, I’ll stay.” 

Geralt laid his body down gently, bringing the bedroll they shared over Jaskier’s face. “I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I got you killed.” He looked away, swallowing, tears streaking down his face as his eyes slid right over where Jaskier’s ghost knelt in front of him. “I love you. I’m sorry I never told you.” 

Jaskier was sure if he still had a heartbeat, it would have skipped right before he shattered into a million pieces. There was nothing left for him to do but to keep his promise. He followed Geralt from that cave, watching as Geralt cast an aard that closed the entrance, burying Jaskier inside, his face completely void of any emotion as he did so. 

The rest of the journey to Kaer Morhen was quiet, Geralt barely stopping to eat or sleep until he had finally reached the keep. Jaskier trailed behind him in the halls, catching the looks that Geralt missed from his brothers, from Vesemir, from Yennefer when she showed up with Ciri not three days later. 

He followed his witcher into his rooms and watched as he drank himself into a stupor that still couldn’t bring him sleep. 

“You don’t have to do this to yourself, Geralt. I’d die for you a thousand times if it kept you safe,” Jaskier whispered. He couldn’t brush back the silver hairs that fell into Geralt’s face as he slumped over his writing desk. 

He looked down at the book that was open and recognized it as his journal. He was sure he’d blush if he could. It was a page towards the back that Geralt had opened to, where Jaskier had done a rough sketch of Geralt grooming Roach. It hadn’t been his best work, but he kept it with him anyways. 

“Oh, you were never meant to see that,” he winced, sliding up onto the desk beside Geralt’s outstretched arm. He reached down as if to grab his hand and sighed when his fingers only managed to slide through it without so much as a twitch. 

“Should have protected you, should have saved you. Always losing you,” Geralt slurred, his eyes closed. “Always losing the ones I should have protected.” 

“Oh, dear heart,” Jaskier leaned his elbow onto his knee, wiping a hand over his face. He wondered how long he would be like this, not that he was complaining. He had promised. He was still going to follow his witcher.

~

The years slipped past them, Geralt witchering, Jaskier following. The only difference seemed to be that Geralt had finally found it in himself to start talking to Jaskier, only when Jaskier couldn’t respond. 

That first season out, Geralt found a contract on a notice board. 

“Looks like a cockatrice, Jask,” he murmured quietly, reading over the paper. “They’ll swindle me for sure, always with fucking cocatrices.” He gave a small smile looking up. “You know, the only time they didn’t was when you’d come flying at the alderman like a cockatrice yourself, all color and spit and barbs.” 

“You always stopped me though.” Jaskier leaned against the board, his head resting on the worn wood as he watched Geralt fondly. “I worry you’ll never see a proper payment again unless you find another bard.” The idea twisted something where his chest used to be. Geralt travelling with anyone else always seemed to do that, even before his untimely demise. “But at least now I can follow you into battles without you having to worry about me getting hurt, eh?”

Jaskier followed Geralt like he always had, trailing behind him as he met with the alderman, to his room at the inn, watching as he checked over his potions. 

“Come back in one piece.” Jaskier winced at the old habit that hadn’t seemed to die with him. 

“Stay out of trouble while I’m-” Geralt turned and frowned at the empty room. “Right then.” He only growled and slung his swords over his back before stalking back out of the room. 

They had stopped on the edge of a ravine and Geralt looked down the craggy face, scowling. He downed his potions without a second thought and began the climb down. 

And then-

Jaskier was suddenly back in the room at the inn, Geralt with his back to him, grunting as he curled in on himself. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Jaskier asked. He came around the other side of Geralt. There was a nasty cut along his arm but it wasn’t anything Geralt couldn’t handle, he knew. 

“Bollocks! Really!? Finally, a way to follow you into battle and, what? I can’t? Why?” Jaskier threw his arms in the air in frustration. 

Geralt made a low sound, the needle shaking in his hand as he stitched his arm. His eyes kept flicking up to his potions, lined across the low table. Jaskier looked him over, watching the last of the toxicity fade from his veins. 

“You know, I keep asking why am I here, but I’m starting to wonder.” Jaskier tried to run his hands through the muck that still clung to Geralt’s hair, sighing as his fingers simply faded through him. “Am I here because you’ve chosen to let me haunt you?” He clucked his tongue. “Foolish witcher, let me go. You don’t need to punish yourself.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt stood, crossing to the basin to wash away the remaining blood on his arm and hands. 

Jaskier climbed into the bed and waited for Geralt to take his usual position beside him. He sang quietly as his witcher drifted off into his usual restless sleep, Jaskier’s name never far from his lips. 

~

And so it went for several seasons, Geralt fighting battles Jaskier could not witness, only able to linger beside him when the nights grew quiet and Geralt would try to drown himself in women and liquor and the desperate pace of travel. 

After one fight, Jaskier returned to find Geralt hunched over his potions, muttering to himself as he pulled one from the bag with surprisingly shaky hands. 

“What are you doing? Did you not kill the beast?” Jaskier was kneeling in front of him, unable to reach out, unable to be heard. He looked between the bottle and Geralt’s face and frowned. 

“I see,” he whispered softly.

It had been a long time at this point and Jaskier was realizing that the only time he was not with Geralt was when Geralt didn’t think of him, so far only when he gave himself over completely to his witcher senses and instinct. 

“Does thinking of me hurt you so deeply, Geralt?” If he were able to cry he would. Instead all he could do was look on as Geralt slowly uncorked the bottle. “I do not blame you for wanting to outrun your ghosts, but please. Not like this.”

Geralt brought the bottle to his lips and for a moment it felt like his eyes had flicked to Jaskier’s, wide and wounded. He pulled the bottle away, corking it and shoving it back into his bag. 

“You’d think me a coward, I know.” Geralt pulled out his flask instead, taking a hard pull of the White Gull he kept with him constantly now. 

“Still the bravest man I know.” Jaskier smiled sadly. 

~

As years went on, Jaskier noticed he was starting to lose time. Slowly there would be a day missing where he started with Geralt in one place and ended up somewhere else completely. Usually when he would appear again, Geralt was already settling into a room or brushing down Roach, idle things that let the witcher’s thoughts wander. 

“Would you have written new songs by now? You’d be what, sixty?” Geralt hummed. “You’d hate old age, vain as you are- were.” 

“Oh, back to this are we? Haven’t been insulted in a while. Though kind of you to say sixty. I think we’re coming up on eighty easily, dear heart.” Jaskier murmured fondly, leaning against the stall to watch Geralt work. 

The time between these moments was clearly growing. Every time he saw Geralt he looked more worn, more weary. New scars were cropping up between his visits. He especially hated when he came back to find Geralt sewing himself back together after a particularly bad fight or when he was being chased out of various towns. 

It felt like that was when he thought of Jaskier the most, when there was no one there to defend him. No one to care for him. He showed in the moments Geralt felt most alone in the spaces Jaskier used to fill. His gaunt face still holding the same disappointed scowl it always did when villages turned on him. Jaskier knew it made Geralt feel like a monster. It filled him with a rage so powerful, it nearly vibrated the medallion on Geralt’s chest. 

“You’re not, Geralt. I know you’re not! I wish you listened to me then or could hear me now.” Jaskier pleaded, pacing in front of the witcher, his arms thrown wide. “You’re still a hero.” He would have wet his lip the way he used to if he could feel it. “Still my hero, witcher.” 

“Maybe they’re right. I just bring death wherever I go.” Geralt murmured as he set up camp. 

Jaskier felt himself slowly fade, flickering as Geralt knelt for meditation, every breath blurring his vision until the void took him again. 

~

It was dawn or maybe dusk, but all Jaskier knew was that it had been a long time since Geralt last thought of him. There were too many scars along his wiry arms where his sleeves were pushed up, his feet dangling into the water of a stream. He sat on the edge of a rock, his head in his hands. 

Jaskier went to say something and found that he couldn’t, his mouth opening and closing but no sound came forward. 

“A hundred years,” Geralt swallowed. “A hundred years and I’ve forgotten the sound of your voice.” He sounded wounded, his voice cracking with sorrow and age. “I’d give every single one of them back if I could just… remember.” He pressed his palms over his eyes and shook. “The world keeps changing, and you’re still gone and I’m still here.” 

Jaskier dropped to his knees beside Geralt, his hands reaching out to touch the man that would not let him go. 

It was his hands that caught his attention. They were barely shadows at the ends of his arms. Jaskier looked down in silent panic as he realized he was fading. Geralt was forgetting him. A mixture of relief and agony tore through him. All he wanted to do was scream but all he could do was sit there in silent horror as he watched Geralt fall to pieces. 

Rest, witcher. He thought, swallowing down the silent tears he was no longer able to shed. Rest, my love, your path is almost at its end. Do you know all the good you’ve done? 

Geralt took a steadying breath, looking up and out over the river, his once brilliant yellow eyes dulling around the pupils. 

I’ll stay, Geralt. I promise. As long as you’ll have me, I’m going to stay. Jaskier silently promised. He leaned forward as though to press his forehead to Geralt’s shoulder. He could have sobbed when the world tilted and he simply passed through him, unable to even comfort him from the other side. 

Beside him Geralt took another breath before pulling his feet from the stream. He turned and gathered his swords and once more, there was nothing. 

~

Time had lost meaning. There had only been brief fleeting moments where Geralt seemed to remember his bard, unable to perceive the ghost that followed him still. Jaskier’s own memory was starting to grow fuzzy. Why was he here? Why did he want to protect this man sitting alone by the fire? Where was his voice? 

He remembered having a lute and a book of songs and an amazing adventure filled with heroics and heartbreak, with destiny and death. He could remember the taste of wine and the smell of sea salt and the feel of a calloused hand cupping his cheek as he laid in a cave decades upon decades ago. 

Jaskier stood in the door of a dusty stone room, the window overlooking a mountain range he could not name. 

“Toss a coin to your witcher,” came a voice, cracked and ancient and so very very tired. 

Jaskier followed the voice to a pile of deteriorating furs. He knew that face, scarred and weathered as it was. He knew that song. Something in him flared as he reached out with almost solid fingers. 

“Geralt?” He whispered. 

The pile rose with a shaky breath and then the man, the witcher, his witcher, drew no more breath. 

“Oh dear heart, you took so long.” Jaskier chuckled sadly. “I’m so glad you thought of me. I’d never be able to live with myself if you died alone.” 

“Can’t live with yourself anyways,” came a rumbling voice from behind him. 

Jaskier whipped around and gasped. Geralt stood only a few strides away. His body whole again, the scars faded to fine silver lines, like threads of moonlight caught under his skin. Around him was a warm glow and it called Jaskier home like a beacon.

“Geralt!” Jaskier stood frozen on the spot.

“You stayed.” Geralt hummed, taking a small step forward. 

“You asked me to. Besides, what was I going to do, let you go on without me?” Jaskier laughed, his arms itching to reach out, to see if he could just…

“Stubborn,” Geralt growled but there was no heat to it as he stalked closer. 

“Yes you are, dear heart. Come here.” 

“Two hundred years, Jaskier.” Geralt took another step, his chest seeming to heave. 

“You took so much longer than I thought you would.” Jaskier shot back but he was grinning. 

“Jaskier.” It was the same old warning bite that Geralt used when he was treading on thin ice. 

“Hello.” He was beaming. The room around them had been dim when he appeared but now it seemed to glow. 

“Hard-headed.” Geralt surged forward, his arms wrapping solidly around Jaskier, lifting him easily as he buried his face into Jaskier’s neck. 

“Are you going to kiss me, witcher or just keep throwing-”

He was cut off when Geralt pulled back just far enough to crush their mouths together, warm and perfect and bright as the sun. 

“Absolute bastard.” Geralt smiled as he pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. 

Jaskier laughed, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I’ve missed you too.” He felt tears, actual tears slide down his cheeks as he clung to Geralt. The room around them seemed to vibrate as they clung to one another, filling with a warm light once more before falling forever dark again, the wind whipping through where they once stood.

They say deep in the Blue Mountains, if you are brave enough, there is a keep that once belonged to the witchers of old. For many years, they said it was haunted by the ghosts of all the ones the witchers had lost. 

They say Jaskier had stayed. He had stayed and waited, doing in death what he had done in life; following his witcher. That only when his witcher followed was he able to finally leave, hand in hand.

But that is only if the stories are to be believed. The ghosts of the witchers have long since departed, only staying as long as they were needed.