#not stabby day yet!!!! its tomorrow

[autistook]

March 12th - Gollum leads Sam and Frodo to Shelob's lair

"Presently they were under the shadow, and here in the midst of it they saw the opening of a cave.

'This is the way in,' said Gollum softly. 'This is the entrance to the tunnel.'

He did not speak its name: Torech Ungol, Shelob's Lair. Out of it came a stench, not the sickly odor of decay in the meads of Morgul, but a foul reek, as if filth unnameable were piled and hoarded in the dark within."

[cianmars]

They were roommates... (A Lokius Fic)

So I made this a lil while ago, it gets updated every few days

Loki has to stay somewhere in the TVA and if he was working for them then its a little mean to leave him in a cell... or at least that was Mobius' argument, so he took one for the team and has Loki move in with him... A purely selfless act....

AKA Loki learns to be a good person, an okay roomie, and a not so good at being a menace to society (unless society bugs him)

AO3

Loki hadn’t recovered from seeing the projection of his mother being murdered in front of his eyes, because of him, for very obvious reasons…. But he had started to come to terms with it, with everything.

That of course didn’t mean that he wasn’t looking for a way, any way, out; but it did mean that he had agreed to work with the TVA, well not with them, but with Mobius, even if the man (was he a man? Man was just short for human, was he human?) was infuriating, in every Gods damned way.

A whistle and a tilt of the agent’s head was what woke Loki from where he was dozing at the same table he had been sitting at since he had brought in, some unspecified time ago, Loki had opened his mouth to tell him that Gods did not appreciated being whistled at like a dog but Mobius was already off, walking out of the room.

Gods did not chase after anyone, let alone men who were holding him prisoner, Gods did not chase…

“Gods don’t chase,” he told the man, practically bouncing as he caught up to the fast walking man (seriously how did he walk so fast?), his head following everyone who passed them as they walked by, and trying to see what propaganda they had tacked to their modern walls.

“And yet, here you are,” Mobius replied in that calm yet amused tone he always used for Loki.

Loki glared, but Mobius wasn’t looking at him so he rushed past him, turning back to face the man walking backwards without breaking pace, trying to focus on him not on everything they were passing, he hadn’t been this way before, had they? A hundred questions bounced around his mind, most of them were ‘why the fuck is a talking duck being led by four armed guards?’ and ‘can I go talk to the duck?’.

A hand on his upper arm stopped all the thoughts in his head and he had to stop himself from coming to a full stop, or tripping, that would be embarrassing.

“Careful, Loki, you’re gonna bump into someone,” Mobius slowed his pace as he pulled Loki to walk at his side, “You can keep bouncing around like Tigger from beside me.”

Loki was not blushing; not at how flustered the touch made him, not at the mixed soft and amused tone which Loki swore was just for him (he wasn’t possessive he was just right), not from the chastisement, no he was not blushing, the TVA clearly just had a heating issue which seemed to be largely affecting just his cheeks, they couldn’t even heat a building correctly. Typical.

Loki cleared his throat, unrelated to his blushing, “Casey doesn’t know what a fish is but you know what that hyperactive big cat is?”

“Like I said Loki, you’re a pussycat.”

“Remind me to introduce you to a real hungry tiger one time,” Loki muttered, cheeks still pink, he kept an eye onto the admittedly comfortable slip on canvas shoes as they slapped against the floor.

“What was that, darling?”

This bastard was doing this on purpose, he had to be… unless he wasn’t, then he’d have to explain why in general people who were practically strangers didn’t call each other ‘darling’, but that did come with the increased risk of him either never calling him it again… or calling him it again, and they’d both know it was on purpose. He’s a bastard. Loki plastered a cheery smile onto his face, looking up at Mobius with a look of innocence they both knew was fake, “Nothing!” his smile turned genuine hearing Mobius laugh.

They were in a golden doored elevator when Loki found his voice again, “Where are we going?”

“I seem to remember some God of comedy telling me that he didn’t talk much…”

“It’s the god of mischief, or tricks, not comedy,” Loki cut in, narrowing his eyes when he saw a barely concealed smirk on his face, “But of course, you knew that as you know ‘everything’ about me. Where are we going?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“How can I tell you if I don't know?”

“You’re pretty,” Mobius leant forward past Loki and pressed his hand to the black screen on the elevator pad, pausing his speech for a second too long as he did so, “smart, why don’t you try to figure it out?”

Loki was frozen as Mobius’s arm brushed against his own as he leant back and stood beside Loki, he could smell the sandalwood from his aftershave as he moved. “You’ve found The Variant, the less amazing, less talented version of me?”

“The Variant is pretty talented too, Loki.”

“Not as talented as me,” Loki pouted, not pouted, Gods did not pout (as his father so often talk him), but his lips were pressed together and slightly stuck out. This was just ridiculous, he wasn’t pouting and he wasn’t jealous, because what would he even be jealous of? Some less awesome version of himself gaining Mobius’ praises?

“Agreed.”

Loki’s head snapped to the man who was studying his watch intently, a little too intently, if Loki wasn’t imagining it.

Mobius cleared his throat, looking back up at Loki, a mild smile on his face, “We haven’t found The Variant, yet. Any more guesses?”

Loki let out a frustrated noise, “This isn’t fair, you have more information where we’re going, I haven’t been given any clues!”

“Take a breath.” Mobius told him with an amused smile and a glint in his eyes, “Why’s it so hard for you to say I don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nice, very funny,”

Coming from anyone else it would have annoyed Loki, but it sounded both fond and amused from Mobius, he needed to get out of the TVA it was making him… he didn’t know, but it wasn’t what he was used to, and that made him nervous, which typically made him feel stabby.  “So you’re not going to tell me? It’s taking forever, for a place which dictates how everyone else should spend their time you’d think that you would actually develop a elevator which doesn’t waste all of your time.”

“Time works differently here in the TVA, Loki, I’ve already told you; anyway no need to whine, we’re here now.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened and Mobius strode out and headed left.

“I wasn’t whining,” Loki whined to the empty elevator, before bounding after him.

“What’s this?” Loki bounced on the balls of his feet as Mobius stood in front of a door, as it scanned him.

“Do you ever stand still?”

Loki thought for a second, he shook his head, then ran his hand through his hair to place it back into its original place, “Most people ask me if I ever shut up.”

Mobius looked away from the door to Loki with that ever present smile, “I already know the answer to that one,” he winked then pushed the door open and walked inside.

Loki took a few more seconds to follow him than he perhaps would have had Mobius not winked at him.

When he finally did walk in he was met with… an apartment, fairly lifeless, the style of the rest of the TVA continued inside of the place, a small kitchen, a living area with a screen which looked like a television but he dare not ask in case that bloody cartoon clock began to play, there were a couple of doors leading off to one side and a couple more leading off on the other side.

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Don’t use that patronising tone on me, I'm not a child.”

Mobius sighed, “I wasn’t using a patronising tone on you, Loki, I was asking you what you don’t understand, which is okay.”

Loki gritted his teeth and began to move around the room, strolling to the kitchen, he wasn’t sure if it was to stop himself from snapping again, or, gods forbid, from apologising. “So?” He turned back to see Mobius watching him with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“So…? Use your words, Loki.”

Loki could see the glint in his eyes across the room, that time he had meant to “What’s the test? Has the variant been here? Or is there some sort of set of clues? Or…, I swear if there’s a training video or propaganda video I shall launch myself out of the windows.”

“Nah, we’ll start on the training and propaganda in a day or two, not right this second, and those aren’t windows.”

Loki turned to look at the windows, “What are you talking about, of course it’s… oh simulated glass panes… I must have sustained a concussion from The Hulk, I’m never usually this slow.”

“Of course…” he said in a way which made it clear that he did not believe it, “We can get you checked out at the medbay tomorrow, if you like, being here might be affecting your healing capacity. This isn’t some form of test, it’s an apartment, my apartment.”

“It’s…” Loki looked around again with fresh eyes, it was still fairly lifeless, but there was a bright yellow mug on the draining board with that bloody clock on it, and a Coca Cola red pen on the table closest to him, a few certificates with ‘Mobius M. Mobius’ on all of them, along with some books which didn’t seem to be propaganda for the TVA… interesting… “It’s very…,” he tried to think of a compliment but gave up quickly, so instead gave a shrug, “it’s smaller than my childhood nursery was.”

Mobius gave a laugh, “I’m sure it is.”

“Well it’s very… it’s certainly an apartment… Why precisely are we here?”

“It was agreed by Judge Renslayer that if you would be working with us you deserved to be housed somewhere which isn’t a cell, of course you can’t go anywhere without me, and this apartment is fully secure.”

“You’re not worried that I’ll slit your sleep in your sleep?”

“It would mean I don’t have to get around to all of the paperwork on my desk.”

Loki frowned, why did this man never take his threats seriously? “If I’m staying here where will you be staying?”

“There’s two bedroom’s Loki, you’ll be staying in the guest bedroom.”

“A guest bedroom? Why do you have a guest bedroom? Are you allowed guests at the TVA headquarters? Do you have guests? Like your mother? Do you have a mother? Do all of the apartments have guest bedrooms? Are you agents allowed to get married and have kids? I don’t see why else you’d need two-.”

“Loki, can we stay on topic, please?”

“Sorry,” Loki swallowed, looking around once more, then back at Mobius, “I… I suppose it’s better than a cell.” The best thing about the cell had been Mobius’s visits, because Loki enjoyed annoying him, and nothing more.

“Marginally,” Mobius chuckled. “Is that a yes? Cause if not I should get you down to a proper cell before dinner time.”

“I… I suppose.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic, the cells really aren’t that bad, if you’d be more comfortable in your own space then I can take you there.”

Loki rolled his eyes, dropping into a rather uncomfortable armchair, he almost regretted his dramatics, almost . “I’m staying… But if you try to indoctrinate me into your cult with more of those videos I’ll skin you alive.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Loki was certain that he was going to kill either himself or Mobius by the end of the week.

[stars-in-my-damn-eyes]

For the Witcher!Jaskier prompt thingy: How about Jaskier giving up his Bard persona/ glamour/ what-have-you in order to save a witcher that he heard took a contract and never returned for payment, only to find out the missing witcher was Geralt ? (forgive me, i do love this trope)

YES YES YES PERFECT

Post episode 6 because yes :)

Featuring Griffin!Jaskier because I'm obsessed with Griffin!Jaskier. One day I'll write him from a different school, but that day is not today

***

There was nothing inherently special about the town, of course there wasn't - one backwater village was indistinguishable from another, as a general rule. The only thing that might have been of note, insofar as the plentiful little shitholes that littered the continent went, was that Jaskier was not allowed to return to some of them.

It had been difficult enough, come to think of it, to keep track of which unwelcoming cesspit he was allowed to enter when he'd only had one list of them, and now, he had two - one for Jaskier the Bard, and one for Julian the Decidedly Not a Bard, but in Fact Most Certainly a Witcher.

This specific town, Jaskier was sure, figured on one of his lists, and he was also sure that it was the Julian one. While he'd never been as far north as Poviss as a bard, excluding that one occasion with the utter cock-up of a dragon hunt and also this current moment - mainly because he hadn't actually left afterwards - he had, in fact, frequented the area when he was younger and particularly more... stabby.

Alright, sue him, he was avoiding his problems like there was no tomorrow. Geralt, Jaskier knew, mainly frequented Kaedwen, Temeria, Aedirn, and perhaps occasionally Redania. Consequently, Jaskier had stuck mainly to Kovir and Poviss since the hunt.

As a witcher, however, it was a vastly different story. Jaskier had trained in Kovir, and, suffice to say, he hadn't been as fond of travelling in his youth as he was now. It made things infinitely easier to keep track of, anyways - if it was in Kovir or Poviss, perhaps Kaedwen or northern Redania, he was banned as a witcher. Further south, he was banned as a bard, and in one little hovel by the banks of the Gwenllech, he was banned as both.

The point was, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be thrown out on his arse if he walked into this town as he was.

And wasn't that all the incentive that he needed?

Jaskier, with his glamour firmly in place - ring jammed nigh-immovably on his finger, as always - and his lute on his back, ambled into the town with a casual air.

At first, there had been nothing of significance, nothing particularly stand-out about... Well, anything, really. He went to the tavern, played for coin, had a drink or two, and, come the afternoon - a bit earlier than he would ususually turn in, but he figured he deserved a break - he started off towards the inn to book a room for the night.

The tavern was, in a most inconvenient manner, a fair few streets from the inn, and so Jaskier found himself weaving through the town anyways - he was definitely banned here as Julian, though he had absolutely no idea why - trying to locate the desired building.

That, then, was when he heard it, a muted discussion between two passing residents that the absent-minded bard wouldn't even have been aware of, had it not been for the benefit of his excellent hearing.

The conversation, Jaskier would have liked to say, was one that piqued his interest, but it was a little known fact that Jaskier was an avid eavesdropper who never tuned anything out - his interest was very easily piqued. As such, the decleration remained rather ineffectual, but that didn't really change anything, here.

"...never returned from that contract, did he? Thank the gods we never paid him upfront, eh?"

"Shove it, mate. Maybe you get to keep your coin, yeah, but that fucking creature's still out there, innit? They're gonna be asking for triple when they hear there's already been a witcher who ain't managed to kill it, mark my words."

At this, Jaskier would admit that a chill ran down his spine. This was Poviss, and so the nearest school was - or rather, had been, Jaskier mentally correcting himself with a note of bitterness welling in his heart - the School of the Griffin. Jaskier's school.

It stood to reason that the missing witcher was one of Jaskier's brothers, and gods damn it, even if he hadn't been around for the attack on Kaer Seren, traipsing around after Geralt as he was, he would be damned if he turned a blind eye to this witcher's suffering, especially given that Griffins - which this witcher quite possibly was - had become quite the rare breed, recently.

So, he did the only logical, rational thing he could think of.

Unarmed save for the dagger he kept in his boot, lute strapped to his back, and acutely aware that if anyone were to recognise him as Julian of Kerack...as himself, really he would immediately be shooed from the village and quite possibly also chased by a mob for his troubles - all of these unfavourable circumstances forgotten, he chased after the two men, still discussing the witcher.

"Excuse me," Jaskier called pleasantly, jogging up to the men, projecting his very best I'm a very non-threatening but curious bard, hello air. "I couldn't help but notice that you were talking about a witcher, a contract?"

One of the men, a balding, middle-aged individual, spat on the ground. "What's it to you, bard?"

"Just.. idle curiosity, I suppose," Jaskier shrugged. "I was wondering if you could point me in the direction he went?"

The balding man scowled, but his companion - a man who had the most magnificent bear that Jaskier had ever seen, was forthcoming with an answer. "He went into the woods down that very road. Been gone almost a day now, I think."

"Many thanks, gentlemen."

With an exaggerated bow, Jaskier immediately turned tail and left.

He fell easily into a run, not breaking into a sweat even as he left the town and started speeding through the undergrowth of a forest.

Evidently, his refusal to waste coin on a horse had in fact saved his stamina.

He picked up on a familiar scent soon enough, though he couldn't place it - he'd never been good with smells, it was something of a major failing of his, really - but it definitely smelled like witcher.

So he followed it.

He dodged stray branches and tangled shrubs with an almost unconcious ease, speed only increasing when the coppery tang of blood on his nose, and fuck, that was strong, that was a lot of blood - the fight had either gone overwhelmingly well or unthinkably terribly for the mystery witcher, and, judging by the constant buzzing of the medallion hidden in the sole of his boot, it wasn't looking too good - and Jaskier made it to the clearing where the smell originated from in record time.

The first thing he realised was that the reason that the scent of blood was so strong was because both the witcher and the fucking forktail he was fighting were bleeding most admirably, though neither were quite dead yet.

The second thing Jaskier realised - and it probably should have been the first, in actuality - was that the witcher was not, in fact, a Griffin.

No, it was, because of bloody course it bloody was, Geralt of fucking Rivia.

The third thing he noticed was that Geralt was losing.

Badly.

It had been a battle of endurance, it seemed, and Jaskier could see thag Geralt was on the verge of passing out.

Fuck. For all the man had hurt him, Jaskier had absolutely no wish to see him dead. Quite the opposite, actually - he would risk his own life to see him safe.

So, slamming his lute case down on the forest floor and leaping into the clearing with all the strength the posessed, that was exactly what he did.

Perhaps his method was a bit... callous, but he needed to arm himself and get Geralt out of the forktail's path, and this was the fastest way he knew how to do that.

He slipped under Geralt's guard, grabbed his arm, and twisted his silver sword neatly from his grip, delivering a ferocious kick to the man that sent him flying across the clearing, far, far away from the forktail's reach.

It was maybe not the best way to minimise injury, delivering a forceful blow to the stomach of an already wounded man, but it was efficient, and besides Geralt was a witcher. He'd be fine. Probably.

Rounding on the forktail with Geralt's unfamiliar sword, he didn't stop to deliberate. He fell back into the familiarity of the fight with an almost disturbing ease, and leapt at the forktail, already slashing.

He caught the creature across the neck, slicing a gash far too shallow for his liking, and ducked under the creature's belly, tearing another wound in its flesh, before slipping behind it and striking at its tail with all his strength, aiming to sever it.

Geralt's blade cut deep into the forktail's muscle, not quite a clean amputation, but Jaskier struck a second blow that rent it from the creature's body with clean efficiency.

The creature gave a roar of agony, and Jaskier took the opportunity to leap on its back and drive the sword straight through the forktail's throat.

It thrashed a few times before falling, and Jaskier pulled the blade neatly from the forktail's throat, rolling out of harms way as they both dropped to the ground.

"Well," Jaskier said, surprisingly not breathless. "That went well."

Geralt. He still had to tend to Geralt's wounds from the forktail, given that he'd spent the gods only knew how long wearing it down for him, which Jaskier was thankful for. He probably would have lost rather terribly, come to think of it, had the forktail not already been in such poor shape, wings torn, bleeding from multiple wounds.

He turned to focus on where Geralt lay - where Jaskier had kicked him to - and found yellow eyes surveying him intently.

Well, shit.

"I can explain," he grinned, trying not to seem too visibly nervous as he spied Roach, at the edge of the clearing, and made his way over to her to nab some of Geralt's supplies.

"Since when?"

The growling voice was tinged with an undertone of pain. Jaskier winced.

"Since when, what? You'll have to be a tad bit more specific, I'm afraid," Jaskier said, instead, making his way over to the White Wolf. "Here, where are you hurt?"

"Everywhere," Geralt grunted. "Since when can you-" a pause, a pained pause- "can you take on a forktail?"

Jaskier shrugged, focusing on removing Geralt's armour to tend to his wounds. "Since some point between when I was born and now, I suppose."

"That's not an answer."

"Oh, so now you're entitled to know all of my personal information? After how we parted?"

Geralt gave a grunt that might have been a whine, if Jaskier felt like reading a bit too much into it.

The bard scoffed, old hurt welling up in his chest. A crawling discomfort made its way across his skin, and he shivered. "And there it is, your famous monosyllabism. If you want anything from me, you're going to have to use your big boy words. Can you do that Geralt, or is it beyond you?"

"You... kicked me. Across a clearing. Stole my sword. Beat a forktail."

"Yes, well." Jaskier's deft hands had removed Geralt's armour by that point, and he could see the many, slowly-healing gashes that littered the man's torso. Death by a thousand cuts, indeed. "You softened it up a lot, first. I'm not exactly in the whole... Well. The whole monster-fighting business."

"Jaskier."

"Don't you Jaskier me," the bard groused, uncorking a potion bottle. "You owe me an apology, you know. Several apologies. And then, I might consider telling you all of my deep dark secrets. I'm not in the business of baring my soul to people who I... Oh, how did you so eloquently put it? Whenever you find yourself in a pile of shit, it's always me, shovelling it."

If Geralt winced, it was definitely because of Jaskier's treating of his cuts. It wouldn't do for him to go and fool himseld into believing that the man had finally grown a heart, after all. Nothing good ever came from that kind of assumption.

The crawling feeling intensified.

"I... I was wrong," Geralt ground out. "It's not you shoveling shit. The djinn and Ciri... were my decisions. You were just there."

"And do you mean that, or are you just trying to butter me up so that I'll satisfy your curiosity?"

"Jaskier. I'm sorry. You saved my life."

"I did," Jaskier mused. "And now I'm going to stick my finger into your open wound, painfully, because you're a massive dick."

Geralt didn't manage to hide his flinch, but Jaskier could see that he was steeling himself for Jaskier to actually go through with it.

"I'm kidding, Geralt. I don't take pleasure in hurting you. Much."

"Hmm."

"I'm going to give you stitches now."

"Jaskier. I really am sorry."

Raising an eyebrow, the bard decided to put the man out of his misery. "I know. You don't say things lightly, I'm just fucking with you. Fuck."

The needle pierced through Geralt's skin swiftly, in a practiced movement - they type of movement that came from years and years of repetition.

"Ciri."

"Ciri?" Jaskier queried, not looking up. "Your child surprise? What about her?"

"She's. In the inn."

"Ah. Well, you should let me stitch you up, then, and you can get back to her. I'll be out of your hair shortly."

"I want you to meet her."

"Really?" Jaskier rocked back on his heels as he pulled on the thread of the stitch - an unwise movement, but the bard didn't fuck anything up.

No, he was just screwing with Geralt, a little bit.

"Please."

"Ah, so you do know what manners are. Of course I'll meet with her, how could I refuse an audience with the Lion Cub of Cintra?"

Finishing the last of the stitches and moving onto the next particularly deep wound, Jaskier met Geralt's eyes and grinned.

"I'll only stitch the more life-threatening ones, now, don't worry. The rest, we can deal with back at the inn."

"We?"

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "Yes, we. You can't just inquire after my dark and sordid past and not expect me to stary clinging to you like a barnacle again, now, Geralt. Who knows? If you're nice enough to me, I'll even tell you."

Geralt's mouth twitched - just the barest hints of a smile. "Your singing is beautiful, and your eyes are divine."

Jaskier fluttered his lashes. "Why, thank you, Geralt, but they're not exactly- oh, fuck."

The white-haired witcher tried to sit up, on hearing the note of panic in Jaskier's voice, but the bard laid a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?"

He followed Jaskier's eyes, his gaze landing in Jaskier's ring - Jaskier's ring, which was sporting a large, gaping crack.

So that was what the crawling feeling was.

"A glamour."

"Yes," Jaskier said, flatly. "One that seemingly has given up the ghost... Or is about to, and any rate.

"You're wearing a glamour?"

"Yes, Geralt, keep up," Jaskier said, tone light. "Completely unrelated, I am unfortunately unable to return to town with you, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to close your eyes while I finish your stitches, and-"

"What are you?"

Jaskier exhaled. "I'm sure you'll find out in a minute or so. I don't exactly carry a spare."

"Jaskier-"

Geralt's tone was soft, but Jaskier waved his concerns away. "Oh, don't worry, it's nothing you'd have to kill me over."

The bard focused on stitching Geralt's wounds as the glamour began to flinch, and, as the ring finally dulled, dissipated completely.

The change wasn't significant, by any stretch of the word - Jaskier was still Jaskier, the same face, the same body - but old scars began to resurface, patterned across the bard's skin, and the eyes that met Geralt's when he looked up were no longer blue, but slit-pupilled and yellow.

"Witcher," Geralt breathed. "You're a witcher. And... You have been. All this time."

Jaskier huffed. "I'm honestly surprised that wasn't your first guess."

"What school?"

"Oh, come now, I have to keep some secrets fpr myself," Jaskier grinned, flashing fangs he'd honestly forgotten he had.

"Griffin."

"Oh, for the love of- how? How did you guess that?"

Geralt shrugged. "You act like a Griffin."

"I act like a-" Jaskier mouthed. "You brute! Take that back!"

The White Wolf smiled at him - actually smiled at him, after twenty damn years, and it was all to be a little shit - and patted his arm awkwardly. "Don't fret, Jaskier. I understand why you'd want to keep it a secret. It would be embarrassing for the Griffin School to admit that they produced someone as incompetent as you."

Outraged, Jaskier gasped in betrayal. "Well, I'm sure I won't be helping you next time you're in mortal danger, Geralt! I broke my glamour for your sake! Quite by accident, I'll admit, but still!"

Geralt - gods damn him - smirked.

"In all seriousness, Geralt," Jaskier groaned. "Do you know how many towns in Poviss have banned Julian of Metinna from entering?"

"Is it most of them?"

"It's most of them. I was - ah, I was rather stabby in my youth."

Geralt shrugged. "The people who could recognise you are all dead by now."

"Hah! You'd think," Jaskier grinned. "Our schoop was in operation for far longer than yours, you know. I'm not actually that much older than I claimed. I just took off the six years I spent actually working as a witcher."

"You gave up after six years?"

"I had other callings!"

"No, I'm just surprised you lasted that long in the first place."

"Oh, fuck off- Next time, I am leaving you to die, Geralt of Rivia!"

"You wouldn't. Julian."

"Shut up. Just- get your Child Surprise and let's go to a country I'm actually welcome in. I don't need to stay in Poviss now that I'm not avoiding you any- fuck."

"Is that why you're here, Jaskier?"

Geralt of Rivia's grin was shit-eating as he no doubt resolved to tease Jaskier about that for the next decade or so, and Jaskier couldn't help but think, as he finished Geralt's last stitch with hands that had become so unfamiliar to him over the last two decades, that being able to stay by the man's side again was absolutely worth it.

[rarestereocats]

Kieran is sent off to finish his part in our mission. By the next day, he's successfully poisoned the chefs aboard the treasure ship and has told the higher-ups about the backup staff he's acquired. In preparation for this, me and Stabby give Amelia some lessons on cooking because all she can do is..."recreate" an egg. Come sunset, we're donned in our disguises and Kieran arrives to lead us onto the ship. As we walk through one of the lower decks, we realize there's more people onboard than we anticipated. We're led to a room to meet with Admiral Ulrich and his captains, Elius and Warsaw.

Ulrich tells us that we'll be cooking for 280 people, but right now, they want to see what we're capable of in the kitchen. They task us with making a snack for us all to enjoy while getting to know each other. Once we're dismissed and make sure we can't be heard in the kitchen, we all have a brief moment of panic as we try to think of something worthwhile to make. Stabby, being the only professional chef here, decides that we'll make caramelized apples and rice pudding. All of us get to work, except Amelia who would rather stand around arguing with Stabby because she doesn't think this meal's good enough.

She breaks away from the rest of us after getting threatened and starts cutting up apples, shoving chocolate and caramel onto the slices before putting them back together. Stabby is thoroughly disgusted and another argument ensues between the pair, only ending when Stabby does what they do best and stabs her. When she tries to sass them again, we all banish her to the corner for bad behavior. The food's ready to be served, so me and TT set the table and notice that the admiral's brought in a guest. It's his butler, Haddie, and she's been invited to try the food because they don't trust us and want to make sure it isn't poisoned.

When nothing nefarious happens to her, they're satisfied and enjoy the meal, letting us know that we should be up by 5 in the morning tomorrow and have breakfast ready by 10. Unfortunately for us, Amelia doesn't have enough poison for the entire crew, so our plan is steadily crawling out of the window yet again. Amelia desperately wants to use her reverse gravity spell to take out the masses, so TT suggests that she puts on a burlesque show with Inami. Surely that'll draw a sizable crowd onto the top deck and when it does, she can cast the spell and send them all away.

That shouldn't leave too many soldiers left to take out. Once they’re dealt with, we can make off with the ship and leads its guards to the ambush zone.

[storiesof-humanity]

Cantact pt7

Human pov

Battle Of The Trillions

First to drop into planet ZXF-689.

*********************

"Ladies and gentlemen its been 5 years since this bastereds attacked our homes and killed our loved ones. And I can say we have made them pay hundreds times worst"

Cheers went out around me as our sergeant grinned at our cheers. Everyone here remembered the events that happened at out home solar system 5 years ago. Everyone had lost something in those attacks.

"I know we all want to celebrate for making our "friends" pay for what they did to us but we have to fight some more to give future generations a free galaxy for humanity to enjoy in peace"

Another round of cheers went out. But this time they went out quickly as everyone waited in anticipation for their orders before they deploy.

"The planet we about to drop on has one huge land mass. There's only one city and 40 percent is underground. So our mission is to go in their air and ground defenses our tough so it will be a coordinated attack, will go in from south of the city and attack air defenses for our ships can move in after that we will move in and take out any resistance left on the planet. Now who's ready to slaughter some aliens?!"

Cheers erupted all around the room that would make you cover your ears.

"Ready for deployment in 30 seconds" the announcement changed the cheers to boots rushing to their deployment pods. This will be the first time humans troops land on and the first time which means humans and aliens will fight face to face.

"Deployment in 15 seconds"

The last troops loaded into the pods from the armory. And the leading captain stepped onto his seat to give a speech to calm down any nerves that might be in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen today humanity will fight together and not against herself. Today we will conquer the thing our ancestors always wished on doing and conquer the sky and the stars. Today we will win and as while as our ancestors we'll create an empire that will bring humanity closer to our roots. Today we will get our revenge in and we will win !"

Cheers went off all over the pods that would've put fear into any living thing.

"Launching in 5"

"4"

"3"

"2"

"Launch"

Thousands of drop ships flew through the atmespher in giant balls of fire.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Drop ship after drop ship slammed into the ground with deafening explosion.

Inside the drop ships soldiers readied their weapons as the ramps lowered reveling that they have landed in the middle of a forest. Across the forest galactic troops have taken up defensive positions above a ridge letting red beams fly all across the forest hitting anything they could.

Once the ramps lowered Sgt Stabby rolled of the ramps leading the charge against the galactic troops.

Thousands upon thousands of soldiers followed shortly after as they took cover behind trees and took pot shots at the galactic troops.

Then a roar filled the air as armored jeeps rolled up firing their guns at the galactic troops on top of the ridge only leaving small bunkers but those were quickly silenced by troops with flame throwers lifting some of the pressure of the ground troops allowing them to move forward and overrun the galactic troops.

Human soldiers ran down galactic troops that tried running back to the city but they were run done by humans and dogs shredding them to pieces.

As troops gathered around the edge of the forest as artillery moved in to position to shell the alien city.

As the guns went off the the troops cheered as the shells flow over them hitting the city directly explosions going of over the city walls then the explosion stopped, but the shells kept flying.

A yellow cloud rised for the burning city. The cheers never stopped human troops new perfectly what that cloud was.

Mustard gas.

Screams from aliens came from inside the alien city walls as ships from orbit started bombing the city.

As the day turned to night troops settled in for the night at the edge of the forest. Soon everyone was asleep except for some sentries keeping watch at the burning city filled with yellow gas.

Tomorrow humanity will have its revagne.

Everyone was curious to see how an alien body will react to Rabies.

----------------------------------------------------------

Hi so ik I haven't posted but I've been busy so here is this update if I get 100 likes and reblogs by tmw morning I'll update tmw as while 😂 but here you go guys please enjoy !! ((:

People asked to be tagged

@siren-of-ashes @for-i-havent-sinned-yet

If you guys want to be tagged just ask me and I will

Fun fact - you guys can make tear gas by putting Tabasco sauce in a water bottle with a little bit of air and water and drop in a MRE heater shaking it and run😂🏃

[oracleofbullshyt-blog]

Chapter 3 - Dinner Time

This has to be my favourite chapter so far so i hope you guys enjoy it, it gives a nice introduction to the crew.

The next chapter is proving difficult to write so while i struggle away maybe ill write a short story? Send in your asks.

---------------

Looking up from his Holopad Vahatu scanned the busy common room from his seat on the couch, this ship was unlike anything he had worked on before. The crew of Leonidas’s Shield often came to the common room after shift to interact with one another and ‘relax’ as the captain had put it, and today was no different.

In the far end of the common room Ben the cook was busy preparing the nights various meals for the crew, he took delight in meeting each crew members dietary requirements, unlike other ships the nutrient dispensers had been replaced with a real ‘Oven’, because as Ben had told him ‘’there’s no way I’m going to be stuck in a flying bathtub and have to suck on flavourless filth every day, I want a real home cooked meal.’’ Vahatu hadn’t understood half of this statement and it had seemed very inefficient to cook meals for every different species aboard, until he saw the boost in moral and how it made everyone come together each shift.

 He chuckled and felt his scales pulse a light yellow in amusement as he saw the Fenris’ulfr stalk towards the Oven on all fours as low to ground as he could be, the captain had introduced him as Wolfs (his real name was a series of growls and yips that no one but the mimic on the crew could successfully repeat), waiting for Ben to turn around Wolfs leant over the counter and reached into the pot. Only to be hit on the elbow by an unnecessarily large spoon by the cook who had since seen him, wolfs had released a decidedly unpredatory yelp at that.

 Sitting at the large dining table playing a human game called ‘Poke-her’, as to who they were poking and where she was eluded Vahatu as the game was actually played with cards, were the two Avisxian’s, their large feathered wings tucked behind their backs and their burght colouring eluded to their evolution from some sort of Avian prey descent. Joining them was the Mantideias, a predatory insectoid that the cook referred to as Mantis, its mandibles clicking as it looked at its deck of cards. The Cephapodosa caught his eye and gave him a wink as they played their hand triumphantly, at the outrage of the others at the table he extended a few of his many tentacles he used for manipulation to pull the chips towards himself. Vahatu had made fast friends with the Cephapodosa that worked in navigation as they both could manipulate their colourings; their colour languages were different but not altogether undecipherable.

Vahatu went back to his holopad, looking through the real time schematics of the ship trying to make sense of the haphazard construction of its systems when the Dheigat fell into the seat opposite him and stretched out.

‘’You know the captain spent the time explaining the idea of relaxing to you, so that you could try it out sometime? The days over you can put the holopad down now’’.

Initium’s silvery voice flowed over him as he looked up at her, her bipedal form quite closely resembled a human, however there the similarities ended. Her skin was covered in small scales that were a purple so pale she was almost white, except along her tail where the purple got deeper towards the end, her colouring the result of her matriarch’s death and the grief she went through.

‘’I do try, but how anyone feels safe travelling on a ship in this condition is beyond me. The fusion drive’s service light has been on for 38 jumps, its supposed to be seen to within 4, and for some reason it’s deemed perfectly ok to just seal off rooms with hull breaches and not fix them if they aren’t currently being used. Twice now I’ve nearly been pulled out the ship you know.’’

Vahatu’s scales settled on a light green as they conversed, Initium was one of the first to accept him on the ship and because of their shared status as outcasts she made him feel secure with her presence.

 The cook rang the buzzer to say the food was ready, which sent everyone scuttling for the benches around the table eager to see what was on the menu tonight. The captain came walking in with the android who called himself Omni, closely followed by the ships Yemmae. Just like the ship the android was asymmetrical, its body made up of scavenged parts that had been found throughout their travels, its left arm slightly larger and lower hanging and its right leg thicker than its left, its visual sensors uneven in both number and size on its metallic face.

It never ate but always sat with them at dinner, joining in conversation with each member of the crew in their native tongue. Omni’s core took up two crew rooms, responsible for his back up and very personality it was a confusing mess of information stacks and wires, he was plugged directly into all aspects of the ship in order to minimise the crew needed for operations. Vahatu had noted that he had an insatiable appetite for knowledge always asking the crew to find him data chips at markets when they docked, and always asking questions.

 Whilst the cook was carrying the pots of food to the table the captain stood up and gathered everyone’s attention, looking around the table he frowned, ‘’Before we begin where’s slugs? He’s late.’’

‘’He’s coming now I can hear him down the halls’’, Wolfs auditory sensors were the best on the ship, and true to form Slugs the mimic came crashing down the hallway. Affectionately dubbed slugs by the crew, he was in fact a mimic. A being made up of several thousand small worm like creatures from the same species, when enough of these beings came together they created a hive mind acting as one. They can change their shape, colourings and very molecular structure at will for whatever purpose they see fit. Vahatu could see that Slugs however was agitated and scared, fleeing from unseen danger, charging down the hallway he was rapidly flashing between different forms trying to get an advantage on whatever was chasing him. Four legs. Now six. Now two. Charging into the room he grabbed the door with three outstretched appendages and used his momentum to swing himself at a near ninety degree angle, an amorphous shape that now clung to the wall. Finally settling on a large reptilian creature with too many legs to be natural, slugs skittered up the wall onto the ceiling. His assailant finally appeared at the entrance to room. Slowly stalking its prey.

 The crew broke down in laughter, the cook lay on the floor unable to move wracked with convulsions as the small cleaning unit with a knife strapped to it rolled in. Major Stabby. Vahatu’s scales pulsed yellow in amusement as Omni the ships android sighed heavily as he got up to salute the cleaning robot which only set the crew off further into hysterics.

Vahatu was still unsure of why Omni had to salute the cleaning robot, or why and how it achieved the rank of major without being sentient, and furthermore why for a pre-programmed robot with no emotion did it hate Slugs so much, not to mention the knife strapped to it. As Fenris’ulfr pointed out when he had asked this, nothing makes sense when you work with humans. Especially Ben, who seemed to have a penchant for the ludicrous.

Once the cleaning robot was taken out of the room and Slugs was convinced to come off the ceiling the captain stood up again,

‘’Alright enough, everyone settle down now. Tomorrow we’re heading into the outer Sagittarius arm, I’ve finally found a friendly enough re-fitter who’s willing to service the ship and keep it off their records. After that we’re headed off to go get a very special piece of tech for our friends in the nebula.’’

 Vahatu lay in his hammock looking at the ships service history preparing for the refit that was coming. His clearance got him through a few barricades in the ships logs and what he found was astounding.

Leonidas’s Shield was born to the Shipyards orbiting Mars as stealth exploration vehicle, one of the first infiltrator class ships that Humanity built. It was outfitted with humanities most cutting-edge weapons and armaments, and a two-metre-thick Mangalloy steel front shield extension.

During the war for Earth it affectively neutralised a capital ship by itself and then chased down multiple long-range rocket salvo ships.

The bridge had been destroyed by a fighter’s torpedo, eventually all four auxiliary engines were damaged leaving only the jump engine, and the crew were forced to work in zero gravity with full life suits due to the damage the main systems of the ship had taken. Yet she still fought. Using her cloaking device to scramble the weapons locked on to the ship, they alternated between firing off the ships salvos and then cloaking to break off and get away from the return fire.

Their cloaking system malfunctioned, and they were stuck in stealth mode, their coms array to damaged to get off an SOS. The acting captain ordered all lifeforms off the ship and into life pods as the planet was split into two, and they were picked up by other escaping ships as they retreated.

 Vahatu could see his purple tipped scales lighting up the room as he pondered on what he was seeing. There was no record of the ship being apart of humanities wandering fleet, or of the ship sending out a distress signal, so how could the ship have escaped? The captains name wasn’t on the officers list either so where did he fit in?

Vahatu’s scales changed to a harsher maroon as he read the rest of the service history, the ships mystery strayed from his mind after a while as he continued. The Captain had added multiple non-standard secondary systems, and personal touches it seemed. Leonidas’s Shield was a flying short circuit and barely one energy bolt away from the fission core venting itself into the crew quarters, but now Vahatu had to try get the ship ready with the help of a few backwards black-market ship servicers.

[wilma-flintstones-mother]

Over the Course of just the last week, I’ve lost exactly 5 (five) of my beloved `followers’… Now, mind you, I’ve never had any more than 300 followers here EVER (that memorable highlight peaked sometime, I believe, way TF back in the halcyon days of 2016, and that specific, groundbreaking even three digit number only happened to have registered as a factual estimate of the total number of followers here at wilma-flintstones-mother.tumblr.com’s `correct’ tally  for, I believe, the awe-inspiring totality of only three whole days and nights….)   Now, however, after the patronage, interest and lasting`friendship’ of, at the very least, the last four consecutive years straight, yet still, unfollowed by FIVE HOLE FUCKOWERS in less than one week!!!!     Positively decimating as well as at the very least somewhat akin to modestly ego-crushing my minimal, sparsely cell-animated prehistoric black ass can currently choose to withstand at the present time!… If not only momentarily so! Whatever might I have done wrong to have ever sincerely deserved such a truly minor, insignificant and thoroughly unimportant virtual wakeup call right at my wide open front door at my namesake blog, here at that double-crossing, tacky, substandard social dumping ground and it’s once-great, sold-itself and-all-its-loyal-users-far-too-short-for-much-too-little-impetus-and-sold-its-acumen-heart-soul-and-brain-out-to`the man’-for some-illegitimacy-ghetto-as-all-fuck-off, bitch-ass, spineless ol’ censor-obsessed, insincere, back-stabby, sorry-ass inch-and-a-half-packing, unpopular rat fink-est of all comparable social media platforms…. lowly  tumblr….. the sorriest ass of the sor…. the dirtiest butthole of all other myriad plethor-abra of `host’ websites (if you can even correctly refer to it as such and further validate it as even THAT,  without fibbing too significantly and ostentatiously!)  backhanded old sow that tumblr admittedly IS, without question,  destitute whore-mongering little cum-and-dead-people’s-snot-riddled sink ho’ of little to no morals, 0% follow-through and a seal of approval so low that even other bottom-feeders find it hard to see the writing on the wall for clarification and bookkeeping purposes. Yes, dear and loyal followers… Perhaps it REALLY IS just about that time, to finally hang up my proverbial hat, board up all the windows and hang up a cheery little piece of signage that says, `~Sayonara, Sluts!  Bon voyage, Bimbo’s!  Left you all in stitches, My Bitches!  Catch you later, Darth Vader! See ya tomorrow, Jean Harlow!  Time for me to make like a tree and leaf, Chief!   Love you lots, You Fickle Twats!  Arrivederci, Turkey!  Lovingly, and complete with 17 `Hail, Mary’s’, a stack of the finest dripping wet kisses ever left behind anywhere, some right decent 8X10 b&w glossies of your’s trulies scrumtious little ditties: my elegant, naked muff, pussy d'ass & titties + a Laurel and heartily intended case of my very finest `Forget-Me-Not’ long-distance & ambiguous-ending, signature Reach-Arounds just for all of you to always remember me bi !!!! All my best, Yours eternally, the incomparable superstar, Pearl Slaghoople, Wilma Flintstone’s mamma,    over and out… Without a doubt……