#our baby bard is hurting

[annmarcus63]

An ugly, translucent shape opened at the gates of Kaer Morhen. A portal. Mercenaries and a mage, the firefucker.  The witchers defend their home and their cub, but they're too many. Ciri gets badly wounded and Rince is about to drag her through the portal, away from her home, away from her family. Geralt feels terror, they can't take her. The wizards fight with all their might, eliminating them one by one in a matter of second. A defeated Rince mocks them and before fleeing, he reaches into the portal to pull out a person who instantly falls to the ground. 

"This one sang beautifully, witcher. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have found Princess Cirilla. And her blood" the mage's face twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at his blood covered dagger. Blood holds power, especially Ciri’s. But before Rince can escape, Lambert appears out of nowhere, taking him by surprise to cut off his head instantly. 

On the ground there's a shaking figure. 

A pair of frightened eyes looks around. Jaskier. Geralt had not seen the bard for years, he tried not to think about him either. But Ciri is wounded, bleeding and whimpering for Geralt because it hurts too much. The witchers carry the princess inside without looking back, to the shaking man on the ground. Geralt and Eskel heals Ciri as much as they can. She's going to be alright.  

Later, he sees Vesemir, through Ciri's bedroom window, approaching a shrunken figure at the stables and after a few breaths said figure following the aged witcher inside the fortress. 

Jaskier is there the next morning, sitting in the dining hall, shoeless and wearing simple clothes that are too big for him. But he doesn't want to see him, he can't, Ciri almost died because Jaskier was the one who gave the information to Rince. With a shrinking heart, Geralt turns away to find something to occupy his mind while Ciri recovers. 

-

Guilt is eating Jaskier up, even the pain cannot compensate for his heavy conscience. He hides his hands in a pair of thick gloves that rub against his burned skin, but it is worse to have them exposed. He had never been to Kaer Morhen before, but he had never imagined it would be like this. He never imagined he would be an outsider, a traitor. 

He finds a pretty good room, it's small and only has a hole in the wall, so it's not so cold. The wolves are uneasy, uncomfortable with his presence and he totally understands it. Geralt has barely given him a glance. Eskel is kind, he smiles at him whenever they run into each other and even gives him a pair of boots and a cloak.

The day after his arrival he spends the day working on the stables, cleaning and feeding the horses, it's not an easy task due to his damaged hands but he can manage. In the afternoon, Jaskier goes inside and sits down in front of the fire in the hall to warm his freezing bones. Not too close, of course. 

Geralt and Lambert enter speaking in hushed voices, Jaskier makes himself as small as possible so as not to attract attention. He's the prey. They are talking about Ciri, she is apparently well and that is reassuring. And suddenly...

"Shh, It's not safe to talk here." It takes him a few seconds to register what Lamber said.  Jaskier looks up to find two pairs of yellow eyes, predator's eyes, looking down at him with weariness. Something breaks inside him, something essential, it could be his core, his heart at the very least. In a hurried move he stands and leaves the room to find another place to get warm. 

At night the pain is too much to bear. He can't sleep and he's so damn tired so he cries for a while until he decides he’s had enough. He leaves his room barefoot so as not to alert the witchers and a single oil lantern to light the dark corridors of the keep. He wanders around for a while until he finds the lab, surely there must be something here to help ease his pain? he sniffs every jar and bottle whose contents seem familiar when a voice calls "If you smell that one you'll die" Jaskier yelps, turning around. 

Vesemir is at the door 

"I...I...I wasn't doing anything wrong, and maybe that's not the smartest thing to say. I'm sorry, I’ll just...go" 

"...what do you need?" 

"Something for the pain" The witcher approaches a cabinet 

"What kind of pain?" 

Jaskier is biting his lips to decide whether to tell the truth or... "Bard" Vesemir scolds him. 

"...burns" Vesemir stops to turn to look at him, his heavy eyes landing on the gloves on his hands. The witcher resumes his search and in a couple of minutes spent in silence he hands Jaskier a vial full of white stuff.  

"Thank you" Jaskier smiles sincerely. 

"Put shoes on or you'll lose your feet too" 

He cries all the way back to his room. 

The salve helped a little, but he still couldn't sleep. He's so tired and he doesn't want to be here anymore. He wonders if the snow is thick enough to kill him if he leaves in the night. 

It's hard to peel potatoes and Eskel notices upon entering the kitchen. "Are you ok?" says signaling the odd way in which he's holding the knife. Jaskier smiles at Eskel with a nod, afraid that if he speaks he won't be able to stop. The witcher is handsome even with the scar that splits his face. He has a quiet air about him that makes the bard sure that if they had met in different situations they’d surely be good friends. 

"You should go to the springs, the one in the middle will help you heal. Just don't go to the one on the right or you'll be burned alive" Jaskier flinches "Thank you, Eskel. I'll be sure to save you an extra portion of broth." the witcher laughs and pats the bard's shoulder before leaving. Jaskier wants to ask about Ciri but knows he has no right. 

-

Geralt is watching over his cub when he hears a door opening outside followed by unsure steps. Jaskier. He still hasn't decided if having the bard here is a good idea, he doesn't trust him, not quite. Eskel says he is too hard on him, also says he's injured to some extent. Geralt makes sure that Ciri is completely asleep before he follows the bard. He's in the springs. It is too late at night for another witcher to be there too, so Geralt decides that this may be the perfect opportunity to finally talk to him. To question him about his betrayal, even if it pains Geralt to know the answer. But he stands frozen in the entrance, Jaskier's back is turned to him, naked.  Hand marks decorate the bard's back, ugly burns across his arms that have not fully healed. 

Something breaks in Geralt and he is overcome by an unbearable grief and anger towards himself, towards Rince. The witcher watches as Jaskier removes one of the gloves. How had he not noticed the gloves? To reveal a completely burned hand, missing pieces of flesh and blackened areas beyond repair. The bard is weeping quietly, even the touch of the air causes him immense pain. Geralt gulps, wishing he could rewind the time, lift Jaskier off the ground and ask him if he was all right. He wants to turn back time to never shout those cruel words at him on the mountain.  

[eelnoise]

with hearts aligned (nsfw!)

zoro x fem!reader this fic's followup btw. takes place between fishman island and PH (yes there's lore!! 🙄! and yes zoro did keep all that shit bottled up for a bit!!) cw: confessions of love, somewhat troubled zoro, not-so-awkward first times (our boy is intuitive okay ?!), piv sex, fingering, cute stuff idk an: okay i know this took a long time but i re-wrote this like 5 times and accidently got hyperfixated on ffxiv and generally needed a break from writing BUT WE ARE BACK BABY !!! wc: 3.4k tagging @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @sleepymarimo @willowbelle @nina-ya

The clinking of cutlery upon plates and chatter among friends fills the small island tavern with animated joy and serene relief. Brook plays the violin somewhere to the left side of the room, though the eager blathering of the crew drowns out the more finer notes and melodies played. 

A well-deserved interruption and a welcome change from the unpredictable nature of the past few day’s events – though for Zoro, it’s a distraction that’s come to an end. Despite the crew being whole again, he still feels a hollowness within – something no amount of eating or drinking or fighting can fill.

And it’s entirely his fault.

You sit across the table from him, sipping at a near-empty glass of wine and discussing something inaudibly with Usopp. He can’t quite read your expression from where he’s seated, but you look interested enough in the conversation. 

And if it’s obvious to himself that he’s keeping you at arm’s length, it’s clear to anyone with a working conscience that he’s doing his utmost to avoid you. The many longing gazes from his peripheral do not go unnoticed, but he dares not to look – for the hurt in your eyes would crush him and sear and stain into his soul.  A far-flung difference from the camaraderie that came before all of this, when the two of you were rarely found an inch too far apart from one another – and now Zoro can’t even look you in the eye. After his many imagined intimate rendezvous,how could he?

With you distracted, he lets his eye wander across your face, to the length of your arm, down to the glass pinched between your fingers – but it comes to rest upon your lips. He watches, transfixed on the flight peek of your tongue behind your teeth when you speak, how your lips twist with each syllable, how they purse when you’re in thought, and the way they stretch across your cheeks when you smile.

Zoro’s throat tightens, a sharp dagger of guilt carving into his chest. He forces his stare to the table, the tiniest sliver of your form still lingering in the corner of his vision. You’ve journeyed this far, fought, bled, and laughed together. And now, for once, he’s unable to find the words to say.

The weight of his inaction bears down on him, leaving him listless. The only respite he’s found is in the distraction of a battle, a thudding, a clash, steel ringing against steel. In those moments, he’s alive, he’s focused, and the words that plague his every waking thought cease to exist. But without the battle, Zoro is left with nothing but the echoes of unspoken desires.

His hand trembles, gripping his mug of ale as he brings it to his lips. The bitterness of the brew does little to quell the fire in his chest. He’s a swordsman, a pirate – not a poet, bard, or a man of words. It’s a mess of feelings. Lust, want, longing, love, all these indescribable sensations that only serve to make Zoro feel weak and helpless and vulnerable when faced with them. He feels like a coward, daring never to speak to you again, never to confess his feelings, and never pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless.

Zoro’s eye meets yours for one singular fleeting moment, the intensity of the connection making his heart race. He knows he can’t keep up this charade, this dance of avoidance – but how does one even confess to these feelings? How does one bridge the gap between comrade and lover? He scratches his chin, trying to come up with a solution, but all he can think of is a single, frustrating fact: he can’t keep running.

Whether it’s every empty bottle he’s seen the bottom of tonight, the last of his resolve wearing thin, or just the sheer guilt of it all that drives him suddenly to his feet, he isn’t sure. Inhaling one of the deepest breaths he’s ever taken, he silently trudges around the table to where you’re seated.

At first, he hovers awkwardly so as to not interrupt the conversation you’re having. Both hands come to rest at either side of the back of your chair and he can feel his pulse through his fingertips on the wood – and when you tilt your head up to look at him, a curious smile twitching at the edges of your cheeks, he cracks.

Zoro clears his throat and forces his gaze. “I need to talk to you for a sec.”

His voice is hoarse as he asks, and he hopes you can’t hear the nerves that lie beneath his words. Surprised by how much he’s sweating and how his heart races against his ribcage, he swallows to regain some semblance of composure.

“It’s important,” he adds, trying not to stumble over his thoughts. It’s a pitiful excuse, but all that comes to mind amidst the maelstrom of emotion in his head.

“Oh, yeah – of course!” You reply with raised brows and begin to stand. Zoro allows you the room to move, taking a step back from the table. “Sorry, Usopp,” you say as you turn and give him a weak shrug, “Remind me where we left off later?”

“No prob!” The sniper shoots a thumbs-up and the two of you exchange a wave before you turn to follow Zoro away from the lively table and out of the tavern.

Zoro leads you to a quiet spot by the docks nearby, where the salty scent of the sea mingles with the faint tang of fish and the distant hum of the island. He can’t bring himself to look at you, electing instead to focus on the water and the twinkling reflection of the night sky in the soft waves.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly, taking a few steps toward him and assuredly taking note of his hesitance. “What’s up?”

“I missed you,” Zoro replies, fixated on the sigh of the shifting tides lapping at the wooden posts below. “A lot.”

“I missed you too, Zoro, but what’s so urgent?” The concern in your tone is apparent and caring, and normally works to soothe him when his mind runs rampant – but this moment, this situation he finds himself in, it does the opposite.

“No,” Zoro shakes his head, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I missed you - differently from the others.”

“Differently?”

Zoro’s jaw clenches, and part of him wants to jump into the ocean and swim as far away from the island as his arms will take him. The honest admission hangs heavy on his tongue, the weight of the years of denial suddenly threatening to push it out. He pauses, opens and closes his mouth a few times, then finally, with a shaky exhale, he looks you straight in the face.

“I love you.”

The admission hangs between you, the weight of years of suppression. Zoro shifts his weight from one foot to the other, twinges of regret creeping up the nape of his neck.  It takes you a moment to reply, and considering the nature of the confession, it's reasonable. Zoro's nerves feel like hot coals beneath his skin as he watches your face for any sign of an answer.

“...for real?” Your gentle response fills his entire being with a wistful spark of hope.

Zoro's fingers curl into fists. "Yes, for real," he confirms, still not looking up. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, a heavy, leaden weight. All his hopes and fears rest on the outcome of this conversation. He's unsure if he could handle rejection, but he can't go back to the pretense any longer. Zoro swallows, tasting bile at the back of his throat. "I should've told you before now, but I... I'm an idiot.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his voice quiet.

He isn’t sure when you move, but a smaller, softer hand wraps around his – and in an instant, he feels himself relax into your touch. Zoro relaxes his grip, allowing your fingers to entwine with his.

He snaps his gaze towards you, his heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears. You peer at him, a sweet, crooked smile on your lips and a blush across your face. And when your free hand finds purchase on his cheek, Zoro finds himself leaning in. 

You meet him halfway in a genuine, tender kiss that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through him. Zoro's arms wrap around you and pull you close. The world around falls away as you both delight in the embrace. The kiss is gentle, delicate, and filled with longing. It floods him with an unexpected warmth – and for once, he can't think of the past or the future. He's simply lost in the present moment.

When you finally pull away, Zoro can't help but lean into your palm on his cheek with a bit of a dazed smile on his face. Holding onto your hand, his other hand slowly moves to cup your cheek in return. His heart is pounding, his mind a blank slate tinged with overwhelming happiness. He's lost in your gaze, unable to speak, but he doesn't need to. The moment says everything.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" you murmur, lips ghosting his and thumb trailing upward to gently trace the lower half of the scar that now covers his right eye. "How often I thought of you?"

And then you say it - the words he's only imagined hearing you speak.

"I love you, too.”

Zoro's chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat as he meets your gaze, his heart swelling. Words fail him, the raw emotion in his gut silences his voice.  A slow smile spreads across his lips, a look of awe and joy shadowing his features. He doesn't need words. The simple fact that you feel the same is enough to fill him with warmth and peace. 

Leaning in again, Zoro captures you in another deep kiss – a deep and soulful kiss that speaks volumes. He's consumed by the feeling of being with you, of finally being able to express his love. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer, and he kisses you with all the passion and longing he's suppressed for far too long.

You sigh into him, the sound willingly swallowed by Zoro’s growing hunger. Arms wrap around his shoulders and you press yourself into him, the opened-mouthed kiss quickly turning into a twist of tongues dancing together in a frenzied rhythm with audible smacks of saliva mixing with each meeting of your lips. His hand clutches your hair more firmly, his other hand slipping around her waist to pull you impossibly closer.

The gesture is all-consuming, a whirlpool of desire and affection that leaves him lightheaded. For the first time in years, he feels like he's truly alive, his heart beating in perfect harmony with yours.

Slowly breaking the kiss, Zoro's lips ghost over your jawline, trailing down to your collarbone as he breathes in your scent, savoring every moment. He wants to memorize the taste, the feel, and the sound of your breath as his hands roam over your body, his heart beating a furious tempo.

You let out a small gasp when his lips touch your sensitive flesh, your body reacting to his every move. Goosebumps raise in the wake of his fingertips as he nibbles at your neck, causing your grip to tighten and for you to moan softly into his ear. 

Part of Zoro wants to take you here and now, but what remains of his will stops him. He growls into your neck and lifts you up fully and, – with a little assistance from you –  heads in the direction of the ship anchored nearby. The others wouldn't be back for a while, so why not take advantage of the privacy?

You’re weightless in his arms as he carries you away from the bustle of the small island village and towards the deck of the Thousand Sunny. Zoro can feel himself growing hard beneath the fabric of his pants as you kiss and nip along his neck, giggling in his ear when he retaliates with a playful squeeze to your rear and a rumbling growl against your skin.

He wastes little time pushing the door to the men’s quarters open with the tip of his boot, his grip on your hips tightening when he moves to lift you onto the nearest bunk, one hand still clutching your waist while the other travels up under your shirt to caress your chest, deft hands making quick work of unhooking your bra and tossing it aside to be forgotten.

Zoro’s breathing hitches, his eyes dark and lustful as he dips his head to suckle at the swell of your breast. He can feel himself twitching against your thigh, and despite his inexperience, he wants nothing more than to please you. 

He kisses down your body, taking a nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue while his hand roams, finding your core already soaked with desire. He pauses, fingers grazing over your clothed slit and feeling you shiver in pleasure. Zoro murmurs your name, and snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of both your shorts and panties before sliding them down your legs in one motion, leaving you naked and bared before him. His own pants follow suit, quickly discarded next to yours.

Zoro's hand finds its way between your thighs again, spreading your folds with ease, and he lowers his head to kiss you once more, his tongue probing your mouth as his fingers gently stroke your clit, drinking in your soft moans.

"Show me." He whispers just loud enough for her to hear. His expression is a loving one, though she notes the slightest bit of hesitance in his words.

Show me how you like it.

You nod and guide his fingers, taking two of the large digits and easing them in circles on your clit. "Not too rough, though," you say patiently, letting go of him with a soft sigh and an encouraging smile. 

Zoro hums in acknowledgment, his thumb and forefinger doing as you ask, the slickness of your pussy allowing his fingers to move easily as he continues to tease at your clit. His other hand rests on your hip, steadying you as his thumb rolls over the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting small moans from you. 

Zoro brushes the tip of his finger against your entrance in an experimental move, and by the way you wreathe and whine, he's urged to continue his work. He slides one past your folds and inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch.

"Shit–" You sputter out between breathless sighs of desire. "Feels really good..."

One finger becomes two, your inner walls clenching around them as he scissors them in and out of your pussy. There's a wet slosh of sound coming from where you meet, your wetness audibly coating his fingers and dripping down down his wrist. 

Zoro's breath hitches at the sound of your pleasure, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your reaction. He's entranced by how your body responds to him, and he can't help but lick his lips as he continues to finger you. He adds a third, the stretch making you gasp and tighten around him.

His pace increases, his fingers swirling and thrusting within you, and he watches as your body writhes and arches beneath him. He can feel the tension building in you, the way your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed.

"Do you want me inside you?" Zoro asks, his voice low and thick with need. He's anxious to give you pleasure, but he's struggling to keep himself from joining his fingers inside you.

"Please," you whine, eyes wide and watery with pleasure but red hot with the need for more. "Need you, Zoro."

Zoro's heart beats wildly in his chest, his own need for you overwhelming as he pulls his fingers from your slick warmth and licks them clean before sitting back on his heels to position himself between your legs. He lines his cock up with your entrance and looks into your eyes, the passion reflected in his own.

Without warning, he thrusts forward, plunging deep into your tightness. You're hot and wet around him, and he lets out a growl of satisfaction as he bottoms out. He pauses for a moment, allowing you both to adjust and to revel in the feeling of being connected. He pulls back, slowly at first, then picks up the pace as he leans over you, the headboard digging into the wall with each forceful thrust. Zoro's eyes never leave yours, his gaze locked as if he's trying to absorb every detail of your expression.

Each stroke of his cock against your walls feels heaven-sent, and the taste of you that lingers on his tongue drives him crazy with want. Nails dig into the flesh of his triceps and your back arches, a song of passion belting from between your lips, a serenade made for him and him alone.

Zoro grunts at the sound of your pleasure, his thrusts becoming even more ferocious as he watches your reaction, the sight of you so lost in ecstasy driving him to the brink. He grips your hips, holding you steady as he pounds into you, the sweat glistening on your skin as your bodies collide.

The moonlight trickling in from the window illuminates your body below him. It's a sight better than anything he could dream, your face contorting in bliss and ecstasy, hands clinging harshly onto him as if he'd disappear if you let go. Savoring a feeling that neither wants to forget.

"You're so fucking perfect." Zoro growls, leaning over you to kiss you feverishly, his tongue seeking yours as he fucks you. He can feel the tension building, the way your body tenses and your nails dig into his skin, and he knows you're close. He wants to give you this moment, wants to make you cum as much as he wants to feel it himself.

"Come on," he urges, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me." The words were a warning, a promise that he wasn't going to last much longer..Zoro increases the pace of his assault, his own release imminent as he watches your face, your eyes half-lidded and flushed with pleasure. Together, you move, driven by the primal need for release.

Zoro's thumb meets your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with the speed of his ministrations. The dual stimulation pushes you over the edge, crying out butchered attempts at his name as your body convulses around him, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Zoro can't hold back any longer, feeling his own climax building as he watches you.

With a roar, he lets go, burying himself deep as he cums, the spasms of your walls milking him as he shudders and groans into your ear, seed spilling inside of you. He pants heavily, leaning over you as he rests on his forearms, his forehead meeting yours. He stays like that long enough to press a quick kiss to your lips before collapsing atop you with a very exhausted, but very relieved sigh. 

You breathlessly hold him close. Cradling his sweaty form to your chest, one hand makes its way into his moss-green tresses to lightly scratch at his scalp. Zoro lets himself relax, letting out a sigh and nestling into your shoulder. He closes his eyes, feeling thoroughly sated in your embrace.

Zoro pulls out of you eventually, gently rolling off your body to rest. He pulls you into his side as he nuzzles into your hair. "I love you." He whispers, his voice soft and tender and almost unrecognizable.

Snuggling into his side, your hand still lazily strokes his head. "I love you too," you reply, voice equally tender, and a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Your soft touch and tender words soothe Zoro, your shared connection cemented in the aftermath of passion. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, a smile still lingering on his lips. The words you whispered echo in his mind, a warm feeling settling in his chest – and together, in each other's arms, you find peace.

[minminyoonjii]

Otter Chaos

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome|Hurt/Comfort|Breakdown|Forced Regression|Bottling Up Emotions|Caring! Kim Seungmin|Skzoo! Otter|Empath! Stray Kids|Act Of Service! Lee Minho & Lee Felix|Anxious! Little Reader|Princess! Dweakki & Quokka & Otter|Skzoo Heavy Fluff

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.7K

You stared at the new line of skzoo plushies the managers laid in front, "This is going to be the highlight of the 4th fanmeeting, the only problem is the theme," the manager said, looking through the suggestions. "How about fantasy?" Changbin suggested, picking one from the list. Hyunjin hummed in agreement, "Yeah, then we can have different accessories," he said, favouring the idea. "It's not a bad idea and since it's on the list I'm sure hyung has some samples for it," Chan pointed out, leaning back.

The manager nodded, "Here are the base samples. The head of merchandise production said they will use your ideas for the pieces," he said, passing out the paper. Changbin giggled, nudging your side, "Maknae-ah look, your little otter could wear a dress," he said, holding up your skzoo. "Maybe my child and yours can wear dresses," Jisung said, moving Han Quokka to you. Changbin whined, "Dweakki would look prettier in a dress than Quokka," he said, tapping the table.

Jisung gasped, "How could you say that to my child?" he exclaimed, hugging Quokka close. Chan rubbed his temple, "The three of you can wear dresses, there's no need to fuss," he said, sketching a knight outfit for his Wolf Chan. Hyunjin smirked at his creation, "Jiniret will be a king," he said, making the details for his red coat and crown. Felix furrowed his eyebrows, "Should Bokarri be a mage?" he questioned, trying to draw a witch hat. Jeongin nodded, "Foxiny is going to be a priest," he said, sketching a cleric outfit.

Seungmin scrolled through his phone looking for ideas, "A bard, huh? That's not too bad," he mumbled, following the reference. The manager cleared his throat, "It's going to be on a 10-centimetre doll, please limit the accessories to three," he said, collecting the paper from the members who were done. You looked at your sketch, "This should be enough," you whispered, handing the paper. Changbin smirked, proud of his baby pink dress, "Dweakki will be the star of the ball," he said, crossing his arms.

"But does he have wings?" Jisung asked, showing his lilac purple outfit. "Wow," Felix said, patting Jisung's shoulder. "What about you, Agi?" Hyunjin asked, raising an eyebrow. You gulped, "Um, just a blue ball gown and a flower crown," you said, showing your reference. Seungmin smiled, "That looks stunning, I'm sure your little otter will love it," he reassured, ruffling your hair as he walked out. You huffed, patting your hair back down. 

Chan chuckled, "This room will be ours for the next hour so you guys can do whatever you want," he said, scrolling through his social media. You walk over to the chair next to his and peeks over his shoulder, "That's dope," you whispered, watching the edits Stays' made. "Right, I don't even know how they made me look kinda attractive," Chan giggled, rubbing the back of his nape. You smiled, "Stays are our number one promoter," you said, clicking a hashtag with your name.

"Not too bad yourself," Chan whistled, scrolling through a few videos when one caught his eye. 'Is Straykid's Youngest a Regressor?' it titled, making your heart sink. It didn't have a lot of views but the comments were abundance. Chan subconsciously clicked it, reading them. Some were denying the possibility and some were linking past videos of your behaviour. You didn't realise you loosened your grip on your phone until it hit the floor with a thud. 

Chan jolted out of his trance, swiping out of the app, "Baby," he tried to reassure. You faux a smile, pretending nothing happened, "Guess Stays got a lot of thoughts, hm?" you said, clicking into the app again and finding another member's hashtag. "Channie look this was from Hyune's AOTM video," you added, showing Chan. He nodded, surprised at how quickly you changed the subject, "Yeah, he did well on it," he said, raising an eyebrow. 

You nodded, "I remember staying up with him before the shooting," you said, admiring the different styles of edits the fandom has made. Seungmin raised a muffin in front of your face, "Bite," he said, smiling when you did. "Minnie, look at this one," you said, showing Seungmin an edit of himself. Chan eyed your figure, leaning back into his chair. "What's on your mind?" Minho asked, staring at him. Chan sighed, "We stumbled into a TikTok and I'm pretty sure she's going to cry the moment she's alone," he said, knowing your quirks.

Minho nodded, noticing how you gulp back your emotions, "I could cook dinner. She never says no to my meals," he suggested, leaning his face against his palm. Chan nodded, "Sounds great. I have an idea that could work too," he mumbled, whispering into the manager's ear. The manager nodded, "This line is meant for you to bring back to the dorm," he said, putting the skzoo in a paper bag. Chan smiled, "Thanks, hyung," he said, holding the bag close.

Felix laid his cheek on the table, "Can we go home now?" he mumbled, scrolling through his bubble. Chan checked the time, "Yup, Minho and I will go get some stuff at the grocery so we'll take the other car. Just text us what you need," he said, packing his things. Felix stretched, "Finally," he whined, making a beeline towards you. "Come on, sunbeam. The day is still bright," Felix added, wearing his beanie and mask. 

"You wanna head by the river? We could walk to the dorm," you suggested, pulling down your cap. Seungmin nodded, "Let me join too," he said, following you. "The sky's clear today," Felix said, looking up. Seungmin hummed, pulling out his camera to take some pictures, "Maknae-ah, pose," he instructed, taking shots of you. Felix giggled, using his phone to take different angles, "You could post this," he said, showing you.

"Yeah," you said, walking along the trail. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, and he frowned having a tinge of uneasiness, "Is she feeling alright?" he whispered, nudging Felix's side. "I don't really know," Felix sighed, watching you from behind. You took off your shoes, and made a beeline to your room, "I'm going to wash up," you said, not caring who heard. Jeongin gave you a side glance, "Huh?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Felix eyed the stairs, "I'll just prepare some hot chocolate for her," he said, not wanting to intrude. Jeongin frowned, "Why? What happened?" he asked, confused about what happened after the meeting. Felix shrugged, "We're not sure. We just noticed the signs," he said, knowing Jeongin understood. "Another episode-ish?" Jeongin asked, helping Minho with the bags. Felix nodded, "I don't know what triggered it though," he sighed, setting the drink ingredients aside.

Minho pursed his lips, "She saw a TikTok about netizens questioning if she's a regressor. We all know she is, it's been obvious since our elimination show," he sighed, preparing dinner. Felix's jaw dropped, "Oh, so that's what happened," he frowned, shuffling to wrap his arms around Jeongin's waist. "Should we talk to her?" Jeongin asked, leaning his head back on Felix's shoulder. Felix hummed, "I think Minnie already did," he said, noticing Seungmin's absence.

"Agi?" Seungmin whispered, knocking on your door. You furiously wiped your cheeks, "Yeah?" you responded, hoping your voice didn't crack as much. Seungmin huffed, turning the doorknob, "I'm coming in," he said, pushing the door open. You looked down, the mental weight you've been carrying around since the meeting came crashing down once you got to the comfort of your bed. Seungmin frowned, holding your skzoo, "Look at me, hm?" he said, waving the plush.

You held back a smile, remembering it was time to let go. Seungmin chuckled, and kneeled in front of you, "Don't you want to play with me, princess?" he asked, his voice soft. Your eyes flickered a familiar gaze, one he hadn't seen in a while, "Princesses like you should play with plushies and have cuddles, hm? Not have big kid thoughts," he said, leaning his tone towards a baby voice. You gulped, biting down on your tongue so as not to succumb to the relief.

Seungmin squinted his eyes, "Guess the princess is busy, Otter. That's too bad, isn't it?" he asked looking at the Otter. "That's right," he said, pitching his voice as if the Otter replied. A shuddered sigh escaped your lips, "No," you whispered, wanting to take the Otter back. Seungmin smirked, "You can't take it, Agi. Your Otter wants to be with me," he teased, hoping you'd slip. You furrowed your eyebrows, "That's not fair," you said, trying to get it back.

"It so it," Seungmin chuckled, raising the Otter up high. Your lips wobbled, and tears poured from your eyes. It didn't take long before you started wailing from the sheer exhaustion your body was going through. Chan swung open your door, making you and Seungmin flinched, "Why is she sobbing?" he asked, pulling you into his arms. Seungmin gulped, handing him your Otter plush. Your sobs died down, Otter clutched close to your chest.

Chan sighed, "Min could you get the paper bag outside the door?" he said, rubbing your back. Seungmin nodded, immediately grabbing it. "Look what I got," Chan whispered, holding out the new line skzoo plushies. Your glossy eyes sparkled, "Ottew," you whispered, taking it towards you. Seungmin dumped out the rest of the skzoo, "You brought them home?" he asked, holding his PuppyM. Chan nodded, "She looked like she wanted them so I did what I should," he said, watching you examine the rest,

Seungmin frowned, "I shouldn't have teased her too much. I just wanted her to slip," he said, patting your head. "It's alright Seung. She looks much more relaxed doesn't she?" Chan said, leaning back against your headrest. Seungmin nodded, "Definitely," he whispered, lightly pinching your cheek. Chan stretched, "Do you want to carry her down?" he asked, knowing that you'd probably not want to leave your bed.

"Yeah," Seungmin said, placing two skzoos in his shirt pockets and lifting you. Chan chuckled, seeing how you easily got distracted by the plushies. "Dinner is ready," Minho yelled, plating up his dishes with a cup of hot chocolate to the side. Seungmin hummed, setting you down on your chair. Felix giggled, "Hi, baby. Open wide," he said, feeding you a bite. You preened at the gesture, body wiggling with each mouthful. 

The members cooed, snapping pictures of your adorableness. Jeongin smiled, "I'm glad she's feeling better," he whispered, not wanting to break you out of your trance. Minho and Chan nodded, "Us too," they said in sync, placing more meat on Jeongin's plate. 

[sleepingdeath-light]

finding out his s/o is pregnant hcs ; older!our!ciel

requested by ; echosoftheocean (—/02/23)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | main cast

character(s) ; our!ciel phantomhive

outline ; “ Saw the fluffy February event and meant to send an ask in sooner but forgot. I hope I'm not too late. I'm sure you know me by now, but my request is some fluff with OCiel x female reader regarding him finding out she's gonna have his heir.”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

his schedule had been packed full of meetings and missions for the past few months, leaving him very little time to spend with you during the day

this also meant that he saw very little of your early symptoms — certainly not enough to predict such a substantial announcement

of course he realised you were rather ill, but he assumed you were just under the weather and instructed the staff to keep an eye on you

to keep you fed, warm and healthy

so when he finally has the afternoon free to lounge with you, and he calls you into his office to spend some quality time together, he doesn’t quite understand why you seem so fidgety

nor why the servants are grinning and giggling amongst themselves as they escort you to his private office

and he certainly doesn’t appreciate he the knowing smirk on sebastian’s face as he dismisses himself with a warm smile and a bowed head to you

not until you take his hands in your own and blurt out that you were pregnant

like actually pregnant, having confirmed it every way you could: anecdotally (via bard), medically (through the family physician), based on symptoms and even according to demonic intuition (three guesses)

and as you’re explaining all of this, he’s dead silent with this startled expression on his face as he takes in the news — not quite able to believe that you were with child

this is the case for several moments until — just as you’re starting to worry — he snaps out of his stupor and he grins this broad, earnest grin and just starts laughing

he pulls you to your feet and into a kiss before dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your stomach (despite the fact that you were too early to show)

you were going to have a child, you were finally starting a family — you and him and this baby you were carrying

it was a dream come true… something more even

and between the affection and celebration of the moment he’s calling for sebastian and instructing him to ready a room adjacent to your own to become the nursery — and to increase protection around the estate

you mean the world to him and he wants nothing more than to nurture and adore this life you’re carrying — and whilst he’s scared and hurt and fearful for what the future holds, he knows that he’ll be able to bear it so long as you remain by his side

as is the nature of love

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Genshin Tournament: Round 5

Propaganda below cut

Venti:

calls the Traveler "his warrior" plus he's like our long-time friend??? He basically asked us out during the alchemy event???? You can choose to bring him up during the fight with Signora????? He's the best idc

He. Is. Amazing. So many layers, so interesting...So much trauma and potential...Not to mention look how AWESOME he is generally!!! He's kind and caring towards everybody, and also carefree and mischievous!!! How can you not love him??

he’s TOO GOOD for this world- he’s just a little guy!! Like he cares for his nation and the people of Mondstadt SO MUCH it hurts when people say he doesn’t. Like, my poor trauma-driven little mega-powerful war god who’s actually just a tiny little wind spirit honoring his dead friend!!!! I love him so much

his lore means he gets brought up almost every patch. he convinced a bunch of the most lethal women in Teyvat to have tea instead of screwing him up. he would always rather take the path of least resistance. he’s the three time best bard in Mond. he never seeks glory, only wishes to offer it to others. he was a better father to Diona than her real one five minutes into meeting her. he gives Glory whispers of what the world looks like so she can navigate. when a nun of his own church denied his identity he decided to run a heist to steal back an item that is only holy because it is his. he keeps his misery and loneliness trapped within, and does his best to bring joy to every person he meets. how can you not love him? 

He's Venti. How do you beat that? Answer: you don't. You can't. 

they say that an nation is most like their archon but is the anemo archon a god that took after the people's traits or did the people take their archons traits (the only correct answer is that venti took after old mond's people traits and it's so disgustingly sweet, he's a lil baby who cared so much that he kept old mond's wishes heard and their dream a reality — of freedom (without a god, as much as he could) where humanity leads trust. he left mondstadt because he trusted that humanity would do that right thing always but then he got betrayed by the Lawrence clan but he forgave them???! the anemo archon gave them no punishment , but mondstadt did . venti has me ugly crying

Kaeya:

He's cool, he's mysterious, he wears an eyepatch, he has a super tragic backstory, he's good with kids, he takes care of his friends, what's not to love!!!

despite all the hardships he’s suffered, he’s still such a kind person 

This is the character of the everyman. Everyone should love Kaeya because he's with you no matter what. He has the great mystery of his origins and his damage with his family and his brother, but he is with you til the end. That's what makes him so special to me

Furina:

girl deserves therapy and hugs and the best life in the WORLD because oh boy she went through a lot!!!! wouldn't pretending to be a god for 500 years with no support mess you up? and yet she still kept on going for her people!! she wanted to save her nation from a doomsday prophecy and she DID

After act 5 she deserves the world :(

“If all the people of Fontaine are on one side, and I am on the other…is it not obvious where the scales of suffering should tilt?” NO IT ISNT YOU’RE JUST ABNORMALLY SELFLESS AND INCREDIBLE AND PERSISTENT. Even the Archons praise Furina’s name and say she is a human with strength and capability worthy of an Archon. That’s not even to speak of Focalors. She snapped at Arlecchino only when the Harbinger implied that Furina had done nothing to preserve her people from the flood. Meanwhile every minute she was working to prevent the prophecy. A month after we took her to court and almost got her killed she agreed to help us direct a play, a favor for a favor

[ladyannemarie5]

Okay. So, I was finally able to sit down and properly watch The Witcher Vol. 2.

Then…

Things we learned/confirmed about our bard in Vol. 2:

He thinks there's nothing under Radovid's mask.

Chose his family over his love.

He knows all the smuggling routes in Oxenfurt thanks to his work as the Sandpiper.

Even though Radovid broke his heart, he wanted to help him to run away

His singing is so beautiful that it makes the dryads cry

Milva, welcome to Jaskier's harem (The Hansa is becoming more and more real).

Geralt's best friend

Sings love songs in elder (for Geralt obviously)

Ciri considers him 100% her family

He doesn't know that Radovid was more than willing to leave his position as prince to go after him (my heart can't take this)

He doesn't know that he is no longer the crush of the prince of Redania but now he is the crush of the King of Redania

Frivolity as a coping mechanism (because of course he'd write at least 3 songs and an epic poem about Geralt's death).

He sits and stands next to a wounded Geralt (just as in the fanfics *cry*).

He holds Geralt's hand when he's hurt and Geralt leans on him (as in the fanfics).

Knows the ingredients of Witcher potions (Maybe Vesemir himself taught him *father-in-law-son-in-law moment* or maybe Geralt himself taught him *husbands moment*)

He's the emotional support bard for EVERYONE (Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri and even Dara) but who the hell is my baby's emotional support?

He writes his songs seeing Geralt being Witcher (as in the fanfics :3).

He doesn't know that Rience is dead

Geralt is his personal bodyguard who will brutally kill whoever touches his bard (once again, just as in the fanfics \^^/)

Jaskier knows that the brooch is important to Geralt and possibly knows about Renfri.

Geralt even trusts him with his sword

He finally has a fucking horse, and it better be named Pegasus.

And once again, Joey Batey is the love of my life.

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Steve smiles. It’s hard not to smile when Eddie is looking at him. When Eddie’s hands touch him gently. Big brown eyes bore into his. Surroundings don’t matter. How can they matter? But they should matter, shouldn’t they?

“I got ya, Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs.

Eddie’s got him. Nothing can hurt him now. Everything hurts. There’s a choked sound that Steve ignores. Eddie’s here. He doesn’t have the energy to turn his head. He doesn’t have to be strong. Doesn’t need to be the hero.

“That’s right, baby, just be our support.”

“Bard.”

“What?”

“Last… last time… wanna… bard.”

It’s hard to talk. Throat raw, aching. Pain. Like he’s spent weeks screaming. Don’t think. Doesn’t matter. Eddie’s here.

“You… you wanna play a bard?”

“Yeah.”

He hums a few notes of the song Eddie had been playing for weeks nonstop. Before. It kept him going… Made the hurt hurt less. Thinking of Eddie. Thinking of the game he promised to play in. Singing has never been his skill, violin or piano he could do, as his mother says with her sad little smiles; he’ll never sing in the theater. Robin disagrees. Robin thinks he has a nice voice. Eddie likes his humming, smiles his own sad little smile. Steve is tired of sad little smiles.

“Tired,” he breathes out.

“Can’t sleep yet, Stevie.”

“Please? Safe now.”

He can hear the retort of Nancy’s guns. The breaking of glass and whoosh of fire. Eddie is here.

“Just stay awake a little longer.”

“Kay.”

He tries to stay awake. Listens to sounds of battle. Focuses on the calloused hands on him. Moves with the motion of the chest he rests against. But he’s so tired. So very, very tired. Fought for so long cause he knew they’d come. It’s safe now. His eyes close.

——————————————————

Small edit there is now a Part 2

[artistsfuneral]

@starlghtstarbrite

Pokey

Geralt should have known better.

The feeling of suspicion, a peculiar itch in the back of his mind that was only ever caused by the kind of trouble Jaskier created, had been bothering him for hours. If not that, he should have paid attention to the lingering smell in the air, the way a weak wave of Chaos tickled his senses every now and then, or how the bard suddenly seemed to struggle with the weight of his pack. It was almost frightening, how used he had to have gotten to Jaskier's antics to not notice the enormous dark omen following their every step. Either that, or Jaskier got better at hiding things from him. Geralt didn't know which was worse.

When he finally did realize that Jaskier was carrying something with him he definitely wasn't supposed to be carrying, it was due to the muffled sound of a thick eggshell cracking and a rush of dopamine in the air around his bard. Geralt, always two steps ahead of Jaskier, turned around sharply and growled at the man. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!" Jaskier squeaked aloud, which might as well have been the boldest lie he ever told, as it was accompanied by yet another crack. "I mean- I didn't- Not- It just sat there Geralt! Alone! Orphaned! It's Mama dead because of those horrible creatures you fought. How couldn't I have?"

Realization dawned on Geralt's face, followed by a look of horror. "You didn't. Jaskier- Tell me you didn't." He knew exactly what creature Jaskier was talking about.

"It's a baby, Geralt! A helpless little creature that needs our protection. Who knows if it even would have hatched if I hadn't taken it with us."

"For fuck's sake Jaskier! Get that thing out of your bag right now. They're perfectly able to fight and kill the moment they've hatched and last time I checked you weren't a maiden pure of heart so it will attack you the moment it's head is out!" Already one hand on his silver sword, Geralt stepped towards his bard and the still hidden hatchling. Thankfully Jaskier seemed to take the witcher's orders seriously as he slowly lowered his bag on the ground, just to quickly flip it open and jump a step back.

The egg inside was bigger than a human head, off-white in color with irregular pale pink spots. Chaos radiates off of it in waves that grew stronger each time the creature inside knocked against the cracks in the shell. It did so once, twice, three times in total until the shell of the egg finally gave away and horn first, a small foal-like head peaked out. Immediately after seeing the little creature, Jaskier threw all caution to the wind and knelt down in front of his pack, cooing at the hatchling with big eyes. Ignoring Geralt's hissed out warnings to back away from the creature, Jaskier reached out to help it get rid of a piece of gooey eggshell and softly stroked a thinger over its velvet head. "Geralt," he whispered, voice full of awe, "it's so tiny."

"Jaskier, get back. It will bite your fingers off," the witcher growled, sword drawn and steady as he inched closer towards the hatchling. The creature watched Jaskier wide-eyed and with open interest, copying his cooing noises between quiet huffs and puffs. "Oh, come on, Geralt," the bard said in a hushed voice, "It's just a teeny-tiny unicorn. A little baby. Look, it's so cute, it wouldn't hurt a fly."

The witcher, who was very well aware that a freshly hatched unicorn possessed the powers and capabilities to kill up to three drowners on first sight, was about to grab Jaskier by the collar and yank him back, when the foal fully stepped out of its egg, shook itself and then proceeded to to invade Jaskier's space by gently bumping into him. That... Was not what the witcher had expected. The unicorn liked Jaskier. It was, in fact, bonding with him. Jaskier, who was still cooing over it like it was some defenseless wet kitten. "Oh, look at you. You are so beautiful with your tiny mane and your adorable little horn. And Geralt thinks you're scary. Who's a little pokey unicorn? Who's my little Pokey?"

Oh gods, Jaskier was bonding with it too. "My sweet Pokey, yes you are. Such a sweet unicorn. You will come with us, won't you? We'll introduce you to Roachie and Pegasus and you can learn all the horsie things you need to know and then you will be the bravest, strongest, prettiest, bestestest unicorn ever. Won't you, Pokey?" The unicorn neighed in response and Geralt knew he was fucked.

[readychilledwine]

The Bard

Summary - Sometimes, it's fun to romanticize someone one else's life.

Warnings- None

Baby daddy note - I made Lizzy post this. She wrote it for fun. I felt it should still be shared.

A/n - May delete later

Masterlist

This world was nothing like the ones she had ever been in. Tall buildings stood in place of trees, hard stone lined the ground cutting and cracking her bare feet with each step. She jumped back as a car hit a puddle, preventing it from splashing her.

Checking her pockets, she sent a silent thank you for the currency hiding there. A sign from her Gods that they were indeed watching. She studied what she slowly realized was her new identification before checking the streets to see if she could navigate through where she was.

She was younger in this world. Barely 16, and for some off reason, blonde. Perhaps it was to remind her of who she was, of who she belonged to, but the reminder hurt none the less.

On further inspection, she realized this world wasn't so different from the last she was in. Just different methods of the same things. Buildings touched the clouds, technology pinged and flashed before her, and modern clothing covered the bodies of everyone around her. She paused at the sight of a bus, seeing that it read the street name of her new home on it before getting on and paying the toll in a shining silver coin.

The previous world came back to her slowly, as all memories did when she jumped. It had been a hard battle, one she suspected could not truly be over with how easily it had ended and begun.

The more she looked, the more similar this word seemed. It just lacked the magic.

She kept to herself, avoiding the gazes of humans too caught up in themselves to even truly look at her. She listened to them, hoping to find the hero she was destined to follow into battle, whose song she would sing in local bars. That was her job, of course. In every lifetime, in every world, she was a Bard. Collecting the stories of heros and their foes, playing them before a laughing crowd.

She followed countless warriors to their deaths, queens to their thrones, and kingdoms to their salvation. She was exhausted, heart aching from the most recent loss. She sighed as she got off the bus, quickly figuring out the house numbers before finding her own.

Pictures sat on the wall of her with her family. Faces that would know her, but she was going to hardly remember. Memories would have been planted into her brain, ensuring her safety as they always were.

She allowed them to guide her now, pulling her through the house until she was met with a door decored in pictures of her with friends. It did make her laugh how each world allowed her to follow a pattern. A group of women. All shining stars in their own rights. All with stories that needed to be told.

She stepped into the room, studying the furniture and shrugging off the rain-soaked clothing. A box sat on her desk, unopened and sparkling. She pulled on warm clothing before walking to it.

White ribbon, so pure and untouched, wrapped about a brown box and an envelope. She opened the envelope first, smiling at the familiarity of the handwriting in an unknown place.

My dearest Bard,

You have no hero in this world. No story to memorize. In this world, you are free to grow and live as you please. Find your own adventure, your own legendary love.

This is our thank you. A new beginning for your humble service. Just never forget who you are. When you miss home, simply look to the stars and wish.

She wiped the tears falling from her face before opening the box. Line paper sat with pencils and pens, just waiting for her to write. And so she did. She would tell the stories of the worlds she had been in one last time.

"Once upon a time,” she wrote, smiling as she did, even if the story started out of order, "in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom very much.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[ahllohehn]

oli deserves more love!! -@humblebardofcampempires

It's Okay We Love You Oli

.......

Past curfew in the dead of the night, Joel is treated to a surprise, though he's not sure if he finds this welcome or unwelcome.

He let out a tired groan as he supported himself on his elbows, squinting painfully at the flash of light directed towards him. Joel shields his eyes with a hand, "Oh for goodness sake, Oli, what are you doing?"

Oli maneuvered his reading flashlight downwards so it would still provide light in a way that wasn't killing his fellow camper's eyes, "Oh Joel, my boy, my savior in this time of hurt," the bard had whined out, shamelessly climbing on Joel's bed, his arms seemingly busy holding onto his flashlight and a book like they were precious.

The son of Hermes could barely open his eyes and could barely roll his eyes at Oli's antics. Out of all things to visit him in the night, Joel feels as if he'd prefer to be haunted by a ghoul Etho sent after him again.

"What in the three realms are you doing?"

Oli squeezed beside Joel, forcing the son of Hermes to move aside in his own bed. Once again, he was unhelpful in answering Joel's questions.

"I have been severely obsessed with this book for the past few hours, you simply must hear this absolute masterpiece. I simply cannot wait until sunrise so I must do this--"

Joel snapped awake as Oli cleared his throat and spread the book in between the two of them like he was actually going to read a bedtime story. The son of Hermes was quick to cut him off, "W-Wait, wait, hold on--"

"There is no holding on, dear Joel Homosexuals wait for no on--"

"Oh for heck sake, did you seriously sneak into our cohort to tell me a homosexual bedtime story?"

Oli pouted and shook the book vigorously, "This is so much more than a bedtime story!"

Joel groans and flopped back into bed, face buried in his hands. They were at a stalemate for a while before Oli got impatient and stubbornly kept flashing him with the flashlight.

"Are you going to be homophobic or are you going to let me sway you with the masterpiece that is The Song of Achilles?"

The son of Hermes relented and sat back up, ignoring the way his guts were urging to go back to sleep, "If this isn't as life changing as you're making it to be, I'm making fWhip and Jimmy put you in your baby jail."

[howlingday]

JNPR G&G

Jaune: (GM) On the horizon of this forest path, you see a group of black-cloaked figures slowly trudging towards you. What do you do?

Pyrrha: My half-elf fighter readies her bow- And that's a Nat 1.

Jaune: Critical fail. Okay. Ren?

Ren: I feel like my Tiefling Rogue is going to climb the tree in anticipation- Nat 1.

Jaune: (Winces) Two critical fails. Nora, what does your Dwarf Bard do?

Nora: Active Perception Check.

Jaune: ...That's a natural 20.

Nora: Let's fucking go.

I feel it in my fingers...

I feel it in my toes...

These motherfuckers mean to hurt us,

So they got to go!

So c'mon, get 'em now!

You picked the wrong day to fuck around with me and my tight crew!

No escaping it, I can perceive you.

Here's what we're gonna do!

Nora: (Blows her pipe)

Me and my boys are gonna mess you up!

Pyrrha: I rolled a 1.

Ren: I rolled a 1.

FUCK!

My boys are otherwise indisposed,

So I'll bring it all myself!

Nora: Whoops! I forgot! You were supposed to tell me what I see, right?

Jaune: Yeah, thanks. Let's slow down a bit. So ypu notice one of the figures is shorter than the others-

Nora: I cast Vicious Mockery! Nat 20, let's go!

You're a short motherfucker

And nobody likes you!

SHORT!

Everybody says,

"Holy fucking shit, look how short that guy is!"

And that stops you from having any meaningful relationships!

When you were born, everybody thought you were just a head

Until the doctor said,

"WAIT! This motherfuckin tiny short ass baby got a tiny little itty bitty body and I hate it!"

Jaune: Your attack lands and absolutely shatters the mind of the short, cloaked figure. Perception check, please!

Nora: Natural 20! Let's go!

Jaune: You perceive the figure was short because it was a CHILD!

Nora: It's always a kid.

Jaune: Specifically the child you've been looking for the past fifteen days game time and five days of our ACTUAL LIVES!

Nora: Ugh! Fine! I'm sorry! I'll be better!

Nora: Wait, his body is just lying there, right?

Jaune: ...Yes? WAIT, NO-

LOOT THAT BODY!

Gonna loot that body now!

LOOT THAT BODY!

Gonna loot that motherfucker!

Playin mah flute as I loot that dead kid's body!

BITCH!

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin: The Complete Edition

Chapters 15 & 16

Y/N doesn't know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince-but she does know one thing: she's carrying his child.

Updated weekly, or read the full version here

Chapter 15: Broken Crown

so crawl on my belly ‘til the sun goes down, i’ll never wear your broken crown. i can take the road, and i can fuck it all away—but in this twilight, our choices seal our fate.

-Broken Crown, Mumford and Sons

The commotion on the rampart grows louder as you rush up the stairs, going as fast as your diminished stamina lets you. You arrive at the top with a gasping breath, seeing Thorin already holding Bilbo atop the wall, staring down at Gandalf approaching from the gathered troops.

“If you don’t like my burglar, please, don’t damage him!” he booms. “Return him to me.”

God bless that wizard, you think to yourself. God bless that fucking wizard and his timing.

“You’re not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?” Gandalf observes.

Thorin looks at him for another moment before letting Bilbo slip from his grasp. Balin and Fíli help him to his feet. The hobbit flings a rope over the wall, Bofur pushing him forward urgently, and scurries down.

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards,” Thorin shouts. “Or Shire-rats!”

You flinch at the venom in his words. Thorin’s eyes find you lurking by the wall. “What?” he demands, storming forward. “Do you have something to say?”

He’s nose-to-nose with you, daring you to defy him. You search his face, hardly recognizing the dwarf who begrudgingly accepted you into his Company, who shielded you from fire and wargs, who welcomed you into his family.

“This is wrong,” you whisper. “This isn’t you.”

Thorin is silent for a moment. “Then go,” he spits. “Go join your kin amongst Men. You are no Durin.”

Though you know his mind is twisted by the dragon-sickness, it doesn’t soften the blow against your heart. The other dwarves look at you in dismay.

After a moment, your face hardens, and you stand tall, standing exactly level with Thorin. “Fuck this,” you say quietly, pushing past him, rougher than necessary, towards the rope. “I’m not dying over a fucking rock.”

He sneers at you and turns on his heel to storm back into the keep. The dwarves pat your arm firmly as they pass, Balin squeezing your shoulders. “Be careful,” he murmurs.

Fíli and Kíli stay put, looking at you helplessly. Kíli grips Fíli’s arm. “Fíli…”

Fíli turns to his brother. They stare at one another wordlessly, then he grabs Kíli’s hair and pulls their foreheads together, whispering something in Khuzdûl.

Kíli nods, pulls back, and wraps you in a tight hug. “Be safe, little sister.” He withdraws and starts down the stairs, turning back one last time before vanishing.

It’s just you and Fíli on the wall now, watching the backs of Thranduil and Bard’s troops as they make for their camp. Tiny flakes of snow speckle Fíli’s armor, and his breath billows out in frosty clouds.

“Now what?” he asks.

Your mind whirls. In the book, the Durin clan dies standing together. In the movies, they die standing alone. I don’t know if I can save them all, you think, but I know I can save one.

“Come with me,” you urge, grabbing Fíli’s arm.

He tenses. “Y/N, I… I can’t just leave him… I’m his heir, the crown prince—it’d be the highest betrayal!”

You lean in close. “He’ll forgive you for leaving,” you whisper in his ear, voice trembling. “But I won’t forgive you for staying.”

“He’s family,” Fíli pleads.

Your heart twists in your chest, but you know you need to hit him where it hurts. You seize his hand and put it to your belly. “We are family too,” you insist. “Please, don’t leave me to raise our baby alone.”

Still, he hesitates.

One final weapon. “Fíli. If you stay, you die.”

Fíli’s eyes widen. “You said you’d never tell us our fates—you wouldn’t change the story!”

Your hold on his wrist tightens to a death grip. “I’m tired of pretending like I’m not part of this world,” you hiss. “I’m done acting like I’m not part of the story. I’m not going to let you die here, Fee.”

A look of anguish crosses his face. Your vision starts to swim with tears as Fíli looks from you, to the rope, to the doorway Thorin had stormed through, to your stomach. The anguish hardens to resolve, and he nods slowly. “Alright,” he says with a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright.” He shifts his belt so his sword is along his back and wraps an arm tightly around your waist, hoisting you onto his hip. “Hold on tight,” he grunts.

You cling to his neck and he grabs the rope, throwing a leg over the wall and slowly belaying down. Heights don’t normally bother you, but you bury your face in his shoulder, unable to look at the ground far beneath you. Your bag sways and bumps against your back with each of Fíli’s bounces downward. The descent lasts far too long, but at last you feel solid earth beneath your feet.

No sooner than you land does a hand seize your collar and pull you into the shadow of the wall. “What are you doing out here?” a voice hisses in your ear.

Tauriel! “I thought you were dead!” you choke out.

She releases you and Fíli, who grabs your upper arm tightly, ready to flee. Tauriel looks down at you grimly. “It will take more than dragon-fire to put an elf of Mirkwood down.” Her eyes shift to Fíli. “So, you abandon your kin, dorn?” [dwarf]

Fíli bristles, but you place a hand on his chest and push him behind you gently. “We need to get somewhere safe. Can you help us?”

Tauriel regards the pair of you with a measured gaze. “Is Kí—is your brother safe?”

Fíli nods, and Tauriel visibly relaxes. She looks back up at Erebor, then across the field in the distance where the white top of Thranduil’s tent is just barely visible in the quickly fading light. “Follow me. Quietly now, and swiftly.”

You make your way across the frozen ground until you come to a halt in front of a pair of elven guards. They seem astonished to find Tauriel standing before them, intact, if a bit charred. Nevertheless, they cross their spears to block your path. “Daro!” they cry in unison. [Stop!]

“We seek an audience with the king,” Tauriel explains.

“The king has no interest in communing with traitors,” one snaps. “Perhaps the gornoth will take pity on your plight.” [dwarves (derogatory)]

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward. “At least let us talk to Bard, or–”

“My goodness, could that be the voice of Lady Y/N that I hear?” A wizened hand sweeps open the tent flap and Gandalf steps out, his eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

“Gandalf!” You duck under the spears and rush forward, throwing your arms around him in sheer relief.

Gandalf seems mildly surprised by the gesture and pats your back. He raises a bushy eyebrow when he notices Fíli, and pushes you back gently by your shoulder. “Does Thorin send you to parley?”

“No, we come of our own accord. To seek refuge,” Fíli adds, indicating your belly. He swallows. You know how hard this must be for the proud dwarf prince.

But as you await Gandalf’s response, it occurs to you now that he has no knowledge of you and Fíli’s relationship, and certainly not of your pregnancy. You hold your breath.

The wizard looks down at you, then back to Fíli with a frown. “Come in from the cold and we shall discuss this… development.” He ushers you inside, where Bard, Thranduil, and Bilbo sit at a small table.

The elven king is on his feet immediately. “Why have you brought a–” but his demand ends in a sputter when Tauriel enters behind you.

She meets the king’s eyes steadily and dips her head. “Your highness.”

A small smirk crosses Fíli’s lips at Thranduil’s stunned face.

Gandalf brings forward a small chair, gesturing for you to take a seat. You do so with a grateful smile. Fíli moves behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. You take one with a squeeze.

Gandalf sits as well, leaning forward with his hands folded. “Am I correct in assuming that…?” he waves a hand in Fíli’s general direction.

You swallow hard and nod. “Things… things happened.”

“And what of Thorin and Company?”

“We can reason with him,” Fíli cuts in. “Now that you have the stone, there’s some bargaining power, surely!”

“It’s dragon-sickness, Fee, there’s no reasoning with dragon-sickness!” you snap.

“Y/N?” It’s Bilbo. “Do you know what comes next?”

You frown and dig in your bag for The Hobbit. Thranduil and Tauriel exchange looks of confusion.

“It’s a… power of prophecy, of a sort,” you mumble, thumbing through the pages. “We’re only a few pages into chapter seventeen…” you trail off as a dark word consumes your mind. “Orcs!”

Thranduil leans forward. “What?”

“Orcs. That’s—that’s it, that’s all I can think about—fuck!” You bury your face in your hands. “I can’t see it. I’ve changed the story.” You take a deep breath. “Orcs are coming. I don’t know when, I don’t know how many, but they’re coming.”

Gandalf rises swiftly, retrieving his staff from the corner of the tent. “Then we must be ready. Is there any possibility of reasoning with Thorin?”

You rub your temples. “I can’t be sure. I think he recovers—maybe Fíli leaving will speed it up?”

Fíli flinches slightly.

The wizard nods. “Ready your troops. Be prepared for battle by dawn. We will not be caught unawares.”

Thranduil and Bard offer their agreement, Bard standing to leave for his own lodgings. He pauses, glancing at you and Fíli with a curt nod. “Congratulations.” With that, the archer is gone. Thranduil is swift to leave as well, Tauriel falling easily into place behind him.

“Someone needs to warn Thorin,” Fíli says. He places a hand on the hilt of his sword and makes for the exit, but you snag his wrist. He twists against your grasp, and you hold tight, fingers digging into his sleeve.

“You’re staying here,” you insist.

“I’ll go,” Bilbo says quietly.

Fíli scoffs. “They’d skewer you with an arrow as soon as you’re within sight of the gates.”

“Well, I did manage to sneak in and out of Erebor without a terrible dragon noticing,” Bilbo points out. “I think I can get past a few dwarves.”

The dwarf just snorts in response.

Gandalf eyes the hobbit curiously, watching Bilbo’s fingers fidget in his pocket. “Very well then, Bilbo. As for the pair of you,” he raises an eyebrow in your direction, “I was just about to put on a pot of tea, and I believe Lady Y/N and her little one are sorely in need of some proper nourishment.” He dips his head and ducks out of the tent.

A long, shaking sigh escapes you. You lean against the back of the chair, weariness plaguing your bones. Fili returns to your side and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he separates out a thin section of your hair, carefully beginning to weave it into a braid.

You let out a small gasp, covering his hand with your own. “Fíli? Now?”

He smiles, gently pushing your hand aside and continuing. “If I’m to go into battle at dawn, I want everything to be proper.” The braid complete, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny, wooden bead with delicate etchings.

You take it from his outstretched hand. The wood is rough and unsanded, but you can make out a crude attempt at your and Fíli’s initials in English, as well as runes you vaguely recognize as Khuzdûl.

He folds your fingers around the bead and sinks to one knee in front of you. You blush—you didn’t think your human courtship lessons had taken hold.

His eyes sparkle as he gazes up at you. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes fill with tears. “Yes,” you whisper.

Fíli grins and takes the bead back, securing it in your hair and kissing it gently. You yank him in by the collar and press your lips against his. He melts into the kiss, fingers tangling in your loose hair.

Applause from the corner makes you pull back with a jump. You had forgotten Bilbo was still in the tent. With a lopsided smile, you stand and push the hobbit out towards Gandalf and the fire. “Give us some privacy!” you chide good-naturedly.

Fíli chuckles and rises as well, pulling you close. He kneels back down, lifting your tunic and kissing your stomach, making you flush even more. “You take care of your amad,” he whispers to the unborn dwarfling. “Adad’s got to go scout out the perfect place for our wedding.” He grins, and you grunt, when the baby kicks.

You sigh again and kneel with him, leaning into his arms. You’ve changed the story so much, the future is dark to you now—all that is left is to place your faith in the strength of the dwarves.

Chapter 16: From Now On

and we will come back home, and we will come back home. home again.

-From Now On (From “The Greatest Showman”), Peter Hollens

Stray shafts of pale dawn light peek through the tent flaps. You haven’t slept a wink, cradling a cold cup of tea in your lap. You’d downed three already, chasing the rush of caffeine to get you through whatever is to come. The others would not hear of you participating in the battle in any fashion. It’s frustrating, though you know in your heart that they’re right—the battlefield is no place for a pregnant woman. Still, you felt a twinge of dismay when Fíli left you in the tent to go practice some battle techniques.

Gandalf sits across from you, stirring his own cup. “So,” he begins lightly, “how long have you and Fíli…?”

You gulp, dreading the conversation in fear of judgment. “Since Rivendell,” you say quietly. “Everything happened so fast. We didn’t know if we’d ever get the chance to have a real life together. But maybe now…”

“Does this mean you no longer seek a way to return to your own world?”

That’s not the direction you expected the discussion to go. “I hadn’t thought of that.” You search within yourself, as if rummaging around in your very soul. “But I don’t think I can anymore—if I ever could.”

Gandalf raises an eyebrow.

“When I first came here, I felt this… this pull within me. As if some part of me was missing, like I left part of myself back in my own world. Like maybe I would wake up back at my campsite at any second. But now, I don’t feel that anymore.” You pause. That’s only partly true, isn’t it? You haven’t felt that pull in a long time. Not since you discovered you were pregnant. Your eyes grow misty. “All of me is here now. I… I don’t belong there anymore.” It’s painful to say aloud.

Gandalf seems to understand your conflicted feelings, reaching out a hand to pat your knee. “I’m sure you will be well looked after here in Middle Earth,” he comforts you. “Fíli seems quite proud.”

You smile weakly. “He is. Kíli too, for his part. I just hope Thorin–”

“Y/N! Y/N, Fíli, where are you?”

A shout rings out from outside the tent. You leap up and dash from the tent, recognizing the voice of Ori. The young dwarf in his ill-fitting armor huffs and puffs as he jogs toward you.

Fíli sheathes his sword, stepping forward and putting an arm out to shield you—just in case. “Ori? What are you doing here?”

Ori bends over, hands on his knees. “Thorin… Thorin wants you back… both of you,” he wheezes. “He… says he’s sorry… wants you by his side…”

Gandalf emerges from the tent. “Has the King Under the Mountain regained his senses, then?”

Before Ori can reply, you hear a tremendous roar from the gates of the Lonely Mountain. The troops of Dáin, who had arrived during the night, raise up their weapons. Even from far across the field, you hear them clearly. “Oakenshield! Oakenshield!” they chant jubilantly.

Fíli looks at Gandalf. “I think that’s your answer.” He dashes into the tent and grabs your bag, looping it over your shoulders. “Come on, then!”

Gandalf stops you with a hand. “Y/N. Are you sure this is wise?”

You swallow. “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” you admit. “But I’m not staying here if I can be with my… my family.”

He withdraws his hand. “Then move with haste and caution, and give my regards to the king.”

You nod, squeezing Fíli’s arm and falling into line behind Ori, who keeps adjusting his helm awkwardly as you make your way towards Erebor. The shadow of the mountain looms over you, and you shiver. Fíli rubs his hand up and down your back comfortingly. “We’re going home for good, Y/N,” he whispers. “I promise.”

You open your mouth to reply, but a rumbling interrupts you. From the north, you see them approaching, armor clanging and weapons beating against shields. The army of Azog.

A look of horror dawns on Fíli’s face. The three of you break into a sprint, as fast as you can manage. When you arrive at the wall, a rope falls down in front of you. Nori’s face peers down from the rampart. “Up, quick!”

You stare at the rope, then up at him, gesturing to your belly helplessly.

Fíli rolls his eyes and crouches down. “Come on,” he grunts.

You wrap your arms around his neck in an awkward piggy-back, clinging on for dear life as he slowly clambers up the wall. Just as you feel like your arms are about to give out, Nori’s hands grab yours and haul you over the rampart. “Welcome back, lass.”

“Where are the others?” Fíli puffs.

Nori waves down to the ground, where you can see Thorin and the rest of the Company at the front gate, their communion with Dáin interrupted by the approaching orc army. A thrill of hope and terror fills your heart when you glimpse Bilbo’s tiny figure among them.

“Y/N.” Fili grips your shoulders and kisses you firmly, fingers running along your courting braid. “I must fight.”

Throat tight, you nod. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He flashes you a smirk. “I would never!” Fingering your bead one last time, he turns and rushes down the stairs into the tower, grumbling something about climbing up the wall just to go back down. Nori follows.

Ori looks at your hair with delight. “You have a braid! And a bead! Congratulations, Y/N!” He chuckles. “Dori owes me—I wagered Fíli would propose before November’s end.”

You smile, but it fades quickly as trumpets sounds below you. The orc army is near now, and the combined men, elvish, and dwarven forces surge forward with a roar, Thorin at the head. A tiny blonde head bobs and weaves through the ranks, Fíli hastening to join his brother and uncle. You lift your hand as if he could see you.

Ori taps your shoulder and thrusts a crossbow into your arms. “Just in case.”

“Aren’t you joining them?”

He shakes his head. “We’re the defensive forces,” he says, puffing out his chest proudly.

Great.

You never realized how loud a battle really was—even though you had to adjust the volume when watching the movies as they bounced back and forth between quiet dialogue and triumphant fights. Up on the wall, it’s mostly calm, though you get the occasional shot in at a few particularly dimwitted orcs who stray too close.

You’re sitting against the wall when you hear it—a loud roar of rage, far too close. Scrambling to your feet, you peer down. At the base of the wall, among a circle of corpses, stand Thorin and Azog. Your heart leaps in your throat. Just like in the movie, just like in your dream, Azog drags Fíli by the collar. Hardly thinking, you grip your crossbow shakily and level it at the enormous orc. But you’re no skilled archer, and this is no ordinary foot soldier; your shot lands at his feet. It draws Azog’s attention, though, and he looks up at the mountain.

You load another bolt, struggling against the draw weight. Ori lends you his strength, and the arrow snaps into place. The distraction gives Fíli enough of a window to stab at the arm holding him, causing the orc to drop him reflexively. Fíli rolls away quickly and springs to his feet, taking his place at Thorin’s side. Kíli is there too, bow already drawn and aimed, but Thorin holds out an arm to stop him. This is his fight.

The dwarven king and Azog circle each other slowly. It’s hard to see what’s going on from the wall—you can’t bear it any longer.

“Y/N! Where are you going?” Ori cries as you sprint down the stairs, dashing through the halls from the tower to the gates.

Snow stings your face, and vomit rises up in your throat at the smell of death all around. You push past it, pressing your back against the wall to remain unseen. I just need to see what happens, you tell yourself. No closer.

Thorin and Azog still haven’t attacked each other, but Azog has gained a flail since you made it down to the battlefield. He spits something in Orcish that you don’t recognize, lashing out with his sword arm. Thorin ducks under the swing, slashing at the orc’s torso. Azog twists away and brings down his flail. He narrowly misses the dwarf and snarls in frustration. Blood spatters the snow from the stab Fíli inflicted.

Your breath shakes. They’re so close, so, so close. With sweaty hands, you raise your crossbow again, aiming right for the orc’s back, and fire. This time your arrow flies true and buries itself in the meat of Azog’s shoulder. He growls and whips around, tiny eyes pinpointing you against the wall. He takes a great, lumbering step forward.

Shit shit shit.

But as the giant orc approaches you, a little hobbit appears from thin air, throwing himself at Azog’s feet and causing him to stumble. The orc barely has time to register what’s beneath him before a blade rips through his chest. It withdraws and plunges through again and again with a fury until Azog sinks to a knee with a bloody gurgle. And suddenly, a jagged line appears across the orc’s neck, and his head drops to the ground with a wet thud. He remains upright for a heartbeat before collapsing.

Thorin plants his boot on top of the orc’s body, breathing heavily and gripping a glistening, bloody Orcrist. He spits on Azog’s corpse and raises his sword with a triumphant shout. “For Thrain! For Thror! For Erebor!”

The raging battle around you pauses, orcs and goblins gaping at their headless general. Somewhere, one shouts, and they start a hasty retreat. Bodies drop among them as elvish arrows pierce their armor and dwarven axes cleave through their helmets, leaving few to escape the battlefield intact.

Thorin lifts his head and meets your eyes. He lowers his sword and begins to approach, but stumbles as Fíli pushes past him in a sprint.

“What are you doing down here, ghivashel?” he scolds breathlessly, crushing you in his embrace.

You cling to him as if your life depends on it. “Saving your idiot uncle,” you choke out.

Kíli picks Bilbo up and brushes the hobbit off, mussing up his hair. “That was stupid of the two of you,” he says with a grin, pushing Bilbo forward. He embraces you tightly as well.

You squeeze your eyes shut against tears.

“Y/N.”

They blink open as Kíli releases you.

Thorin’s face is battered and dirty, blood dripping from a gash across his forehead. “I owe you my deepest apologies.”

Instead of replying, you reach out and wipe the blood away from his brow. “You look awful,” you reply with a wobbly smile.

He pauses, then smiles and claps you on the shoulder. “We did it, Y/N. Welcome home.”

[arashikohedervary]

I cannot express in words how much I love the crew in Our Flag Means Death. I adore how much personality they all have even tough they are stuck in the "background character" group. I would honestly watch it if any of them would have their own spin-off. I mean, I like Ed and Stede just fine, but look at these babies!!!

Frenchie: Oh, don't get me started on Frenchie, I adore the man. He's the literal impersonation of 'looks like a cinammon roll, could kill you'. My man is a DnD bard who invented pyramid schemes *and* fanfictions. Plus he may be the genius of his age while still believing in witches and crystals.

Wee John: Roomies! Man, how much more I'd like to see of this beautiful Drag Queen. Long live Calypso! And how much I whish to know if he sews his own drag clothes.🤔

Black Pete: It's not healthy how much I'm invested in "Blackbeard's most trusted man". He thinks he needs to create cool stories to get the others to like him, but he's actually very soft and caring. I mean, have you seen the finger he gave to Lucius? He's an angel.

Lucius: If it weren't from Ori from the Hobbit movies, he'd be my favorite scribe of all times. My man is underpaid for all the realitionship drama he has to listen to and his bonus consisted of getting thrown off the ship (which is, like, rude). Also, he can pickpocket Spanish Jackie???? Hi, yes, I'd like to order a backstory, possibly 20 hours long, please.

Buttons: Oh gosh, the Sea Witch. I'm in need of much more explanation and screen time dear writers. And he straight up talks to animals and curses people? Aunty took one look at him and went: "Yapp, that's the Sea Witch". I wonder how Frenchie haven't declared him an evil witch yet.

Roach: My man is a maniac cook whose also the medic just in case. He's half crazy and I couldn't thank him more for it. He also let's Stede request orange cakes from him which is just very sweet overall. Bro also invented peanut butter (like we wouldn't notice it), then fed it to an allergic person, then blamed it on a curse.

the Swede: It's most certainly not fair how well written he is for him to be standing in the background. He has the voice of an angel, please! He might not be the smartest person in the room, but he fucks like a jackhammer, I mean he became hot. That's something.

Jim: Oh, sometimes I cannot comprehend how great Jim is. They're mute, then a mermaid, then neither, 'cause they're just Jim! They're exactly the kinda person to give up revenge for 'not feeling the vibe' anymore. They also would kill anyone who hurts their crewfamily without batting an eye.

Oluwande: Don't even get me started on this beautiful, lovely teddy bear. He's the best hearted, but still serious and trustful of all. He literally gets along with everyone and we need so much people like him. Today's message is to be more like Olu!

Thank you for listening to my Ted-talk, don't worry, the 'why I love Izzy' will be a separate post will be, I couldn't fit him here.

Plus stuff I want to mention that this isn't directed against the writers, I know there were more than one problems with the founding of the second season. Rather, this is a compliment for all the hard work for these *excellent* characters! xx

[halevren]

FHJY Spoilers || my live thoughts as I watch episode 7

this may take me longer than usual because I have hurt my hand so it's wrapped up rn and it makes it hard to type 🫡

TTTTAKING OVER TEENAGE REBELLION

I miss ayda aguefort i hope she shows up in this episode.

pitch perfect 2 mention! I used to be so into music related movies

So much happened last episode, this recap is so long

I am not a fan of Grix.

AGENT CLARK...

Two Kristen's again

OH NO

ADAINE COMING IN WITH THE SAVE

"Pretty fun to commit fraud"

"That was sophomore year, I'm cool now"

Body rolling I love body rolling it's so fun to just vibe

Mandatory drug test????

Bard class cool as hell

GRIX NETTED DURDEN?

Rip Gorgug he fell on the stairs

"Did she cast a spell on you " "I mean, in a sense..."

Littledoggy Girlcollar

they should investigate definitely

"If we all do drugs, they can't expell all of us."

Riz trying so hard to keep Fig from being expelles

shrimp burrito

Gorgug not being a fan of Mary Ann is very interesting to me and very reasonable.

"I think it's a really good thing you're thinking."

kipperlitty is subliminally messaging people with the food?!?!?!?!?

I can't wait to see the fan art that comes out of this episode

"Hey.... Girlie"

THE SILENCE

"Did you hear? She passed." KRISTEN EHEHEJWKEHBEE

OHHH KIPPERLILLY. THAT WAS SHADY. YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO SAY IT SO LOUD. I ABSOLUTELY KNOW YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE

KRISTEN KRISTEN KIRSTEN KRISTEN KRISTEN

"Hey do we need to lock it in" yeah probably

Max Durden is probably my second favorite npc

"Everyone has to have a least favorite friend, it's fine" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Fabian running a study hall is so cool

This downtime sounds fun

SPECIAL THING IS GOING TO HAPPEN IF GORGUG GETS NAT 20????????

Riz "The Ball" Gukgak

SERVER AT BASRAR'S!!!!!!

Aewlyn mention 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

SHE GOT THE JOB

"Nice new shirt, did you buy it underground?"

The stress tokens are actually making me real life stressed

GORGUG NAT 20!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SECOND GORGUG NAT 20!!!!!!!!

"It might be more stable than mine"

i miss Cassandra I hope she's okay

The shrimp jump. WAS a miracle

let's go Cassandra!

Fig paladin of Cassandra??????????????

Oh my god is Fig Multiclassing

oh my god wait craig he's still around

"it's like animal piss but in a good way"

"Kristen, your adult man is being weird"

"You'd be a nasty as paladin?"

"I don't want to harsh your vibe"

"Everyone has to lick me"

oh no he's a noodler

DETECTIVE BABY

gorgug has tunnel vision

Gorgug is literally so stressed

"I SUCK, YOU RULE"

the rage!

Fabian is such a loser when it comes to talking with girls

This is so painful, Fabian needs something. I don't know what but God he need something

THIRTY TWO????

Fabian stress token

Walking store Adaine

ya hoo

av class 🔥🔥🔥

i need art of fishing club Riz just goin' fishing

NAT ONE THAT BECOMES A 10

Gorgug & Riz joint birthday party!!!!

17 having a ice cream party sounds absolutely lit

SELF INSERT PC CLARK

Gorbag and Roz!!!

goodbye lucilla she's gone to the skies

"I think you're being weird here"

oh my god fig

Fig is having a strange day

"Why can't I tell him he's weird"

A YOGURT YEAR

"Haha! Counterspell! ♪"

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

oh my god Brennan said teenage rebellion.... just like... just like the song teenage rebellion... T-T-T-TAKING OVER TEENAGE REBELLION IT'S OUT TIME IT'S OUR YEAR—

"Can I take a stress for Kristen"

Riz is the only character allowed to take a stress for another person

popular kid Kristen!!!!

"Anyone who think he's cool" me too I fall in love with everyone who thinks I'm cool

alter emo hauntings a kid's dreams

"Not All Who Wanda Are Lost" single released on all listening platforms. 1 mil listens in a week

oh no...... this is going to be awful and awkward.

ohhhhhh....... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh...... Fabian.......... This is painful........

Ivy is catching these hands, leave my girl Mazey alone

"You missed your shot, playboy" no he has a call with his bank

Riz is at his conspiracy board

Something does feel off about grix

Everyone has a stress token

"Go roll me a corrupted bardic"

Even I'm grieving Lucy, she sounds lovely...

oh there's something deep going on with lucy

"It's the boss, baby"

Murph has figured it OUT

The epic music

This stress system is making me STRESSED

I relate to the stress causing antisocial things

LYDIA!!!!!!!!!

ohhhhhh goodness.....

[likeafairytale]

"No I don't want him to leave, I'm in love with him. Please help!" - Nathaniel to Malachai about Achilles who's only been at the court for 3 days

Malachai looked up from the map he was examinating when he heard Nathaniel coming into the room. He frowned at his brother's attitude, and looked at him falling dramatically in the couch near him. Calypso, who was painting in her little corner, raised her head at her brother's words, and an amused smile was on her face. She didn't need him to say a name to know who he was talking about. Indeed, she noticed Nathaniel sudden interest on Achilles the moment he arrived in the Seelie Court –it was easy to spot on, for each time the bard was in the room, Nathaniel seemed to forget about his sisters, which annoyed her a lot.

The girl suddenly lost interest in her painting, and was way more interesting by her brother childishbehaviour right now. Nathaniel burried his face into the pillow in front of him and scream a little, probably out of frustration, while Malachai simply raised an eyebrow to that. The eldest Blackwater said nothing, simply shaking his head and sighing, before going back to the examination of his map. If the little mermaid noticed the sudden interest Nathaniel had about Achilles, Malachai, as for him, was still clueless about it.

“Xanthe is leaving? Where is he going?” Malachai finally asked, a bit distracting.

“He is not talking about him.” Calypso answered with amusement, which made the eldest frowned.

“I'm talking about Achilles!”

“Who?”

“The bard, pay attention at dinner, Kai!”

“Wait, you're in love with the bard?”

“I am! And he is not just a bard, he is so much more than that!”

Calypso couldn't help but laugh a little while leaving her little corner to come sit next to Nathaniel, who was still laying in the couch, his head under the pillow. The man raised to let his sister sit, before putting his head on her lap, surprising her a little. He whined and she pet his hair with amusement. He could be a real baby when he wanted. Malachai lost interest in his map, now, his entire attention was on his siblings. He was serious, as always, and the little princess had to admit that his seriousness was spoiling all the fun she was having. Her smile disappeared, and she tapped the siren's shoulder so he sat correctly.

“Don't be silly, Nate, you can't possibly be in love with him. You know him only for three days.” Malachai said gravely. Nathaniel stayed silent to that. He wanted to say that it wasn't true, that he knew Achilles for centuries now, he just kept it a secret and Achilles just did not remember him, yet. But he couldn't admit that, not know.

“You don't know anything about love, Mal.”

“That's quite hurtful.” Malachai sighed, and Nathaniel and Calypso could see that he indeed was a bit hurt by those words, and they felt bad about it.

“He is not wrong, though, did you ever fall in love?”

“My love life is none of your business.” Malachai said, a bit unease by the question.

“But our love lives are yours?”

“I'm your big brother, I have to make sure you're making the good decision, and apparently none of you can do that when it comes to love.”

“Now, that's hurtful.” Nathaniel pouted, and Calypso giggled, while Malachai rolled his eyes and sighed to his siblings' behaviour.

“Love works in a mysterious way.” Calypso said before Malachai had time to reply.

To his sister's words, Malachai suddenly looked away, unable to keep eye contact with her. The image of Yasmeen came in his mind, he was now tense, and he tried his best to not show the change in his demeanor to his siblings. Calypso was right, he knew it, love works in mysterious way, sometimes you fell in love with people who you technically shouldn't, for your social status were different, and never your father would approve of it... To that thought, Malachai closed his eyes and sighed a little, which puzzled his siblings. Calypso noticed the difference in Malachai's attitude, he seemed lost in his thought, and a bit... sad? She was ready to ask questions when Nathaniel abruptly took her hand, making her jump a little.

“Cally! You understand me, right?” Nathaniel gasped, making the mermaid frowned. “After all, you fell in love with Aeron after what? A day?”

“That's not true!” She defended herself, quite offended by the accusation. She set herself free from her brother's grip, making him pout a little.

“You both are way too romantic.”

“And you aren't enough. You should try, sometimes, it won't kill you, I promise.” Nathaniel joked, making Malachai rolled his eyes. “But seriously now, I don't want him to leave! He has to stay, please, help me make him stay!”

“If he has to leave, then so be it, you have to deal with it and focus on something else.”

“I don't want to! I want him here, with me! I am in love, Mal!”

“No you're not.”

“Stop dictating my feelings! I know them better than you do, they are mine.”

Malachai said nothing to that, he simply signed and rubbed his eyes. Now, his siblings were frustrating him, which wasn't the first time. He knew whatever he said, his siblings won't listen to him, they were too caught up into their fantasy world. When it came to love, Calypso and Nathaniel were way too naive, and not careful enough. After all, one was married to her kidnapper and from what he noticed she still had feeling for Aeron, while the other had his heart set on Xanthe, who was also the enemy, although now it seemed that Nathaniel changed his mind and was focus on someone else. In any case, they were too reckless with their heart. This is maybe all right for common people, but not for royalty. This was one of the rare time Malachai felt a bit jealous of normal people, they have the luxury to love who they wanted, something he unfortunately did not have...

“I don't like that.”

“You don't like a lot of things.” Calypso laughed

“I don't trust him.”

“Ten minutes ago, you didn't even know who Achilles was!”

“Precisely.” To that, Nathaniel sighed and put his head back on Calypso's lap. “Anyway, this isn't home, Nathaniel, we can't give order here.”

“Calypso!” Nathaniel almost screamed with joy while turning his face to look at his sister, and that made the girl jumped a little. “You can give order! This is your kingdom too, well, sort of. You can ask for him to stay, can't you?”

“I... I suppose I can, yes.”

“Calypso, no, this isn't your place.”

“Please, do it for me. For your big brother who is always there to protect you. Please, please, please!” The little mermaid looked at Malachai who shook his head to show his disapproval of this idea.

“I do like his songs very much, I'd like for him to teach them to me...”

“Calypso, don't encourage him.”

“And I know he does magic, maybe I can convince princess Lyra to ask him too. He won't be able to say no to two princesses.”

“Thank you!” Nathaniel said with joy before hugging his sister, making her laugh a little. “Let's ask him now!”

“Whatever I say, you'll always do the opposite, won't you?”

“That's how little siblings works, Mal. You should know that by now.”

Malachai sighed louder, showing how annoyed with them, he was, which only made his siblings laughed. Calypso stood up and kissed his cheek, while Nathaniel tapped his shoulder in a brotherly way. Without saying anything more, the two of them left the room in order to find Achilles, letting Malachai alone, with his irritation and his thoughts.

[ladyannemarie5]

Jaskier: the emotional support bard for EVERYONE

Well, remember my "Things we learned/confirmed about our bard in Vol. 2" post? You can see it here.

I haven't stopped thinking about point #16 (He's the emotional support bard for EVERYONE (Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri and even Dara) but who the hell is my baby's emotional support?) and after many sleepless nights I finally got around to it to write something about it.

So here you have 2k words of hurt/angst for my beautiful bard. Because he needs to vent to someone and I love a Geralt writhing in pain and guilt :D

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Geralt is truly grateful to have Jaskier in his life. Having him is the true blessing. 

The bard is always by his side, with a soft and understanding smile on his face, with the right words that will give shelter to their hearts and a joke to lighten the mood.

He knows just the right combination of words to make Yennefer smile sincerely. He knows what song to sing for Ciri after her nightmares. He knows what to say to elves who have lost their homes and families to always keep them hopeful.

And of course, Jaskier is always sincere about his emotions, the things he likes, the things he dislikes.

Jaskier is colorful, loud, colorful and true with his feelings.

That's why Geralt is at a loss for what to do when he hears Radovid comforting his bard. 

Geralt was about to tell them both to gather by the fire to continue the party after saying goodnight to Ciri. The party in the forest was in full swing when both lovebirds decided to step away from the spotlight and spend some time alone. 

"How are you, lark?" asks Radovid.

"I'm perfect, my prince. All things are finally flowing properly" replies the bard cheerfully.

There is silence for a moment, Geralt sneaking up on the pair, not wanting to abruptly interrupt their moment.

"I could see how your hands shook as we approached the fire, I also noticed that you didn't play your usual notes on your lute, and of course, you tried to sing the dirtiest songs in your repertoire only to have your friends tell you to stop singing in front of the girl" the prince murmurs softly and Geralt stops his steps altogether. 

"Well, I wouldn't want a witcher and his sorceress to cut little Jaskier for singing obscenities in front of his daughter. You should thank me for stopping, I know how much you enjoy little Jaskier."

A silence follows, Geralt thinks the matter is settled, that Jaskier is fine. 

"And now you're evading the issue" replies the prince in a tone Geralt can't detect. "You said you weren't afraid of the fire anymore but you sat in the farthest place from the campfire, you didn't have your twitch with the strings and I know you only do that when you don't want to want to keep playing the lute and I also know you only sing your dirtiest songs when you want to make people uncomfortable and make them stop asking you for songs.

I ask you again, how are you?"

Jaskier doesn't respond. Geralt holds his breath and frowns in the darkness.

Jaskier isn't acting weird, it's just Jaskier being Jaskier, Geralt thinks. His bard is always happy, in fact he is surprised that he always smells like honeysuckle and lavender all the time because humans always have a wide variety of smells about them. Sadness, anger, joy, satisfaction, and more and more, but Jaskier always smells of happiness, and several (many) times of lust. Radovid believes that just by knowing Jaskier for a few years he is already able to read him backwards and forwards. Like him

Jaskier doesn't say anything for several minutes and for a second, it seems like the conversation has stopped there, maybe he'll start cracking a joke about how being the most famous bard on the continent is taking its toll on him or maybe he'll comment that Radovid isn't giving him any enough attention.

If there's one thing everyone who knows Jaskier personally knows, it's that the bard is...

"I'm tired "

And Geralt's heart stops. Because he has never heard the bard speak in that tone. Not even when they had walked miles and miles for hours, not when they had spent days and days sleeping outside instead of an inn, not even when Geralt apologized after the mountain. It's not the kind of physical exhaustion that Jaskier always brags about, it's the exhaustion that comes from his soul.

A soft sound is heard and the witcher must not have special mutations to know that the prince has gotten closer to the poet “Dear heart, it is me. "You know you don't need to pretend to be someone you're not with me."

More silence. More doubts.

And then, like a dam that has broken, Geralt smells for the first time the bitter aroma of rotting dandelions: Jaskier's sadness.

"I feel so lonely." Jaskier sighs, an exhausted, desperate sigh.

And then the sobs come.

Geralt can imagine the prince holding Jaskier in his arms because the poet's voice sounds muffled and sobbing.

Jaskier talks about how he has always felt sad and alone since he was a child. How sometimes he is not able to remember his childhood because his mind has blocked everything bad to protect him. He talks about how music saved his life, how sometimes it's not enough and he just forces himself to make it enough.

Geralt thinks about the times Jaskier didn't sleep or eat because he stayed to write in his notebook, how he took his lute and held it to his chest saying that the muses were blessing him with inspiration. He now wonders how much was real and how much was the bard breaking.

The bard tells the prince how scared he was when he first toured the continent, fearing that he would have to crawl back to his parents to survive. The happiness of being able to find Geralt and follow him. The sadness of being rejected over and over again by the only person who was his lighthouse at that moment. The panic attacks he suffered when he woke up and Geralt was already gone. The tremors in his legs when he ran to the next town to catch up with the witcher and the fake smiles he had shown when pretending that their reunion was accidental.

Geralt remembers a time, in Temeria, when he found Jaskier drinking beer in a tavern and how his leg kept moving, up and down over and over again. How Jaskier told him it was the emotion that the red-haired waitress caused him. He tries to remember how many miles Jaskier had to walk by himself.

Jaskier tells him how devastated he was when Geralt left him. Because he knows that 20 years are nothing for a witcher but they were half of his human life. He tells him that he returned to Geralt because he missed him and is his best friend, the person he has the most faith in, but he doesn't think he can trust him again, not like before. Because he had been his only friend, his only constant after leaving and being disowned by his own family, because he had given him his youth, voice and friendship for decades and yet Geralt had left him. And his heart is so broken that he can't put another patch on it or will be useless forever.

He tells him how ashamed he is of his human condition. Because he's surrounded by gods who can set the world on fire literally and figuratively, he clings so hard to being someone magnificent like them, but sometimes he's so exhausting that the very breath escapes him. He tells that every time they make a joke about being weak, worthless or just being left behind he gets it because they remind him of his family, but now it has become a dull ache that builds up in his heart and he knows it's wrong, but now has gotten used to it.

Geralt doesn't even have a specific memory, but he knows that he has a lot to think about.

The poet talks about nightmares about being burned, about being left behind for being a mere human. Because he knows that he is only a second in the infinite life of the people he loves, that he is nothing more than a thorn in the hearts of the people he considers his family. Because they will live long, wonderful lives and the memory of him will one day be erased from their minds, and sometimes it's okay, but other times it feels like it burns his soul to know that he means nothing to anyone.

He tells Radovid that he is so afraid that he will leave him too. Because he knows that he can be a lot and feel so much that he is used to being left aside, but he doesn't believe he can bear Radovid's rejection and he doesn't believe can bear to say goodbye to the prince he has fallen in love with like never before. He tells him how much loves him, how fervent his love is, but Radovid is a prince, the representation of the gods on earth, the man who has armies and subjects and men and women at his disposal; and he’s a simple bard, with scars from torture and a lute on his back. Jaskier opens up and talks out loud about how scared he was when he met him, because he always jokes about being heartbroken, like every good poet, but he never talks about the fear of not being enough again.

He talks about his resentment and envy of others. He was always the bard of comfort for everyone, always the shoulder to cry on and complain about, always the perfect man to put down and feel good about yourself. Jaskier, the man who always smiles. Jaskier, the man of a thousand words. Always the bard Dandelion.

He says that has no right to cry and complain about his pain, because there are elves out there who have lost their homes, their family, and their lives. Because just a few steps from him, there is a girl who lost her parents, her grandparents and her entire home in the flames. There is a sorceress who was sold by her father, who was undone and remade countless times. Because he has traveled with the man with the purest and noblest heart on the continent, that he has suffered for decades without complaint. Because there is a prince trapped in a viper's nest next to him. He has no right to cry because he is exhausted.

But sometimes it's so hard to stay smiling. Sometimes the curtain must be lowered, sometimes his lips also get tired of saying words of encouragement without any in return, his arms are also tired of holding and not being held, his heart sometimes gets tired of loving without being loved.

Sometimes he just wants to sleep and not wake up again.

Jaskier talks and talks and talks. But for the first time, he's not about the best color for his doublet, but instead he mutters about the insecurities he hides behind those colors. For the first time, Geralt doesn't tune out Jaskier's inane, meaningless chatter and actually listens, hears the tremor in his voice, smells the pain in the air, feels every sob rumbling in his chest. And he wonders how he never saw it, how he always took his friend for granted.

It seems that Jaskier's words are exhausted, because all that remains is a deafening silence and the aroma of salt from tears not shed for years.

“You are not alone, lark,” the prince murmurs, soft and determined. “You have me, Geralt, Ciri and Yennefer. We are your family. We are yours. And I'm sorry you feel that way, because it was never our intention to burden you with our burdens. Because we love you. You are the light of our lives, and the only reason we all have a family. Jaskier, you are my lark, my heart and my soul. I love you more than anything, Jaskier. You can always come to me to listen to you, to cry or simply to be by your side, the way you want me, all the time you want me.”

Jaskier sobs again and Geralt can imagine Radovid holding him tighter, closer, because it's something the witcher wants to do.

Geralt walks away silently with only the thoughts of him.

He returns to the bonfire that miraculously continues to burn, with no Yennefer and Ciri in sight.

Geralt sits in his place. He thinks about everything he has learned from the bard in 1 hour and has been missing for 24 years. He wonders how much of what he sees in Jaskier is him and not his mask. He questions why he never asked Jaskier how he is.

Then he hears footsteps coming out of the forest. He feels Yenn sit silently to the right of him and then Ciri to the left of him. Everyone heard, everyone felt their bard break.

No one says anything, as if the bard had taken away their words. He probably did it. So the three of them sit together until they decide to go to sleep, always in silence.

The next morning, the 3 find a note from Radovid saying that he and Jaskier will take some time together. That they will soon find them.

The witcher, the sorceress and the princess shed tears together and then wait anxiously for their bard. Their lark.