#rust and ruin tag game

[optiwashere]

I became completely unhinged because of the full version of this art by @forestborg so I had to write about it. It cooked my brain.

This is smutty, smutty smut, but it's also a light exploration of drow trans women as well. Drow culture has always been one of my favorite things about the Forgotten Realms ever since I was a lil DM running my fucked up version of 3E. Combine that with my constant need to trans all the ladies? Yeah.

Really though... this fic is super explicit. I'm adding this to my Kinktober series because I selfishly want that series to say 31/31 some day and this fic definitely belongs.

Rating: E for Exquisite frottage

Category: F/F

Ship: Minthara/Karlach

Tags and AO3 Summary under the break.

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Trans Female Character, Trans Karlach, Trans Minthara, Light Dom/sub, Frottage, Come as Lube, Tail Sex, Size Difference, Choking, Breathplay, Drow-typical Gender Hierarchy, Gender Identity, mentions of Minthara/Lae'zel, Inspired by Fanart

Summary:

A vision on the battlefield. A heart warm enough to beat a thousand times too strong for its own good. An axe with a sharp edge, though its haft is unkempt and left to rust. These are the ways Minthara knows Karlach. There is one other way she desires to know her. Or: Minthara and Karlach spend an evening in a tent together.

[wjbminecraft]

*bangs head on desk* Minecraft fishing/ocean update/mod concept again like what I did here but more in-depth (pun not intended) because I got up at like 3am and it's like 4 when I'm writing this title thing and I have nothing to do for several hours.

Anyone who makes "lol Mojang are too lazy to implement this stuff" comments will be thrown into The Machine™ for a week and forced to watch a video about the reality of multiplatform game development. Also like this is a pure hypothetical and more of a "what I would do if I still made Minecraft mods and could do something this ambitious.

The basics:

Cooked fish are now called Smoked [type of fish].

Some fish species can only be caught based on what biome you're in.

There are new aquatic mobs that can't be caught, but some can drop items that can be eaten. This includes Squid, which have a chance of dropping Squid Rings or a Raw Tentacle.

The ocean is now stratified, and also a lot deeper than it already is. It's separated into the Surface (basically just how Minecraft's oceans currently are, complete with more biome diversity), Abyss (much darker and filled with bioluminescent mobs, as well as only containing one biome), and the Darkest Depths (rarely generates and is extremely deep; contains a new boss and lots of hostile aquatic mobs).

Iron now rusts (over four stages, similar to Copper oxidising but a lot slower) if submerged for long periods of time; Rusted Iron is easier to break, but otherwise the same. Iron Golems can also rust, which makes them slower, weaker and less durable. Rust can be removed by using a Brush.

There is now a designated "ocean" village type, which uses wooden walkways (similar to how regular villages look when they generate on water), and has buildings made out of modified boats. The Villager textures look somewhat piratey, with eyepatches and stripey bandannas and stuff. There are also aquatic Illagers that use a more cetacean-like Ravager variety, live in towers that are connected to the seafloor by an underwater mountain. Also there's a new Illager variety, the Drillager (which wears a bulky diving suit with a giant drill attached, which it uses to break through blocks and to charge at its targets yes, this is a Bioshock reference).

Fishing has been slightly overhauled; while you still just stick your rod in the water and wait, there's now a Fishing Table that can be used to change what bait you're using, which increase the chances of finding rarer biome-restricted fish (more on that further down), as well as a "salvage hook" item that vastly decreases the chance of catching a fish, but increases the chance of finding treasure like Saddles, Name Tags and Nautilus Shells.

There are now Diving Helmets, which offer almost no protection (being a glass bubble-helmet) and require 8 Glass Panes to craft, but allow the wearer to stay underwater forever. If they're crafted with Stained Glass, then the player's view will be tinted the appropriate colour.

More in-depth stuff:

Sharks exist now; they're based specifically on the mostly-harmless Nurse Shark, and - being based on an endangered species - drop no items on death. They also attack small fish mobs.

Underground lakes now contain Cavefish (not based on any specific species), which are blind and swim away from (most) noises, effectively working like a sneaky "tutorial" for the Deep Dark's mechanics.

The Darkest Depths contain the ruins of an unknown civilisation, and are protected by the Ancient Guardian, based on the boss of the same name from Minecraft Dungeons (but without the shard in the top of its head). Also a variant of the Biomine spawns near Ocean Monuments.

Skeleton Sharks spawn in all ocean biomes at night; they're hostile, and move relatively fast. When on land, they don't drown, but being undead mobs they do eventually burn in sunlight. They can also spawn being ridden by baby Drowned.

There are three new types of Coral: Elegance, which is cyan and glows; Pillar, which is green and has Log/Pillar/Basalt-style rotation; and Maze, which is orange and can form Chorus Plant-like "trees" that are topped with blocks of other Coral varieties.

Biome-specific mobs (note that there would probably be more but these are just the ones I could come up with)

Icy biomes contain Seals (neutral to players, but hostile to fish; drop nothing on death have a unique baby design), Snailfish (basic ambient fish), and a new mob called the Iceshell (hostile; a creature resembling a giant Portugese Man O' War, with the "sail" being a giant chunk of ice, and the tendrils replaced by several dangling crustacean-like limbs).

Swamps contain Piranhas (hostile to any mob with 25% health or less remaining) and Electric Eels (electrify the water in a 3x3 area around them when attacked).

Beaches contain Giant Crabs (passive; can be tamed with Seagrass or raw fish, and ridden as a semiaquatic mount yes this is a Bionicle reference; their colours vary depending on the specific Beach subtype, with regular Beaches having red crabs, Stony Shores having blue, and Snowy Beaches having white).

Warm Oceans contain Frogfish (passive; come in eight colours that match up with the five vanilla Coral varieties and the new ones. They don't swim, instead walking on the seafloor; when standing on the Coral variety that corresponds with their texture, they turn invisible), Sea Slugs (passive; inflict Poison on contact) and Eels (neutral; spawn at night and attack smaller fish).

In the Nether, there are now Firefish (passive; instead of being cooked, the player has to right click on a water-filled cauldron while holding one in order to make it safe to eat), Basalt Floats (passive, but dangerous; function like floating platforms the player can stand on to get across lava, but can descend unexpectedly), and Magmateeth (hostile; giant lava-sharks that can set the player on fire just by biting them).

Abyss mobs include Anglerfish (passive), Octopi (neutral; much larger than Squid), Glowmouths (hostile; pale, shark-like creatures with no eyes and glowing mouths), Comb Jellies (passive; deal damage on contact) and Giant Isopods (passive; run away from the player).

There is probably more I could write but I have very few ideas.

[cat-esper]

I thought I'd redo my intro post and this time make it ✨pretty✨

I'm Cat [she/her | aroace] and I write sci-fi and fantasy with a dose of cosmic horror. I love mixing genres and general experimentation. Whether my work is marketable or not is less important than having fun. My absolute favorite things are found family, robots, and time travel, and I am a firm believer that platonic relationships can be just as fierce and important as romantic ones. Most of my novels are set within a shared universe I call the Starfish Saga and that's my main focus, though I do have quite a few exciting projects outside that.

I am quite shy but love making new writer friends and am open to tag games and ask games and other sorts of writerly socialization.

I have...a lot of projects. A worrying amount I try not to think about. But! Below the cut, you'll find the ones I'm focusing on for the time being, now with new and improved titles.

Books of the Starfish Saga

The Last Paladin | YA science fantasy | 12 part series

When Chelsea Seaver's parents are abducted by aliens, she embarks on a grand adventure across the galaxy--making friends and learning magic on the way--to bring them home.

Status: books 1-3 drafted

Intro | WIP tag

Incantations of the Mad Mage | YA epic fantasy | 6 part series

In order to honor her dead mentor, battle mage Arna Vaughn races against the Sforia Empire to locate six legendary magic spells that have the power to end a bloody war; whoever finds them first will change the course of their world forever.

Status: drafting book 4, editing book 1

Intro | WIP tag

Records of the Spiral | YA portal fantasy | 4 part series

Three misfits stumble into a surreal world inhabited by strange creatures and watched over by the eldritch Enochians; it's a place they belong to more than Earth and if they don't want to see it destroyed, they'll need to stop the very beings who created it in the first place.

Status: drafting book 1

Intro | WIP tag

Music of the Spheres | YA science fantasy | standalone

Shay Finnegan leaves everything behind when he decides to become a light-wielding Paladin, a protector of the galaxy, in order to find a higher purpose and avoid the fate that haunts him with the words you will bring everything to ruin.

Status: rewriting for the millionth time

Intro | WIP tag

Red Ghost | YA contemporary fantasy | novella

Mel Black joins a ghost-killing organization in order to free the spirit of her dead friend from a fate worse than death, but saving him might just mean the end of humanity.

Status: pending edits

Intro | WIP tag

Nightland Nexus | epic fantasy | 5 part series

As tensions rise across the worlds, a group of characters seek to satisfy their own ambitions, but they'll need to team up and unite the worlds to prevent a long-dormant Darkness from awakening.

Status: world-building

Intro | WIP tag

Sundial Fates | YA sci-fi western | 10 part series

A time machine crashes on the edge of town, launching three reluctant teens into the biggest adventure of their lives. They may be able to face down alien invaders, mad scientists, and unfathomable entities, but can they face the truth about themselves?

Status: overhauling the plot/updating the lore

Intro | WIP tag

Other Projects

The Zodiac Circuit | post-apocalyptic sci-fi | duology

Rhys Valencya reluctantly teams up with an android in order to stop her own family from resurrecting the lich that almost wiped out humanity centuries ago.

Status: drafting book 1

Intro | WIP tag

Androids Don't Rust | time travel | standalone

With human extinction inevitable, four androids are sent into the past to retrieve data for the Archive that will outlast humanity.

Status: very early planning stages

Intro | WIP tag

Robbery on the Hell Express | weird western | novella

Occasional partners and oftentimes enemies, Harlan Nye and John Callahan team up to rob a ghost train--betrayal, deadly wraiths, and a lethal race against the clock mean they may not make it out of this alive.

Status: planning

Intro | WIP tag

The Chronicles of Josephine Mercer | dark pirate fantasy | ongoing series

In a darker version of the 18th century Caribbean, mutineer and newly self-appointed Captain Josephine Mercer escaped the navy with a ship and ambitions that would see her become the bane of the British Empire.

Status: research/world-building

Intro | WIP tag

Liminal Spaces | urban fantasy | 5 part series

Caffeine fueled video game artist, Ref Sanderson, comes home one day to find his daughter is missing. Turns out, she's been making new realities in her free time. Now she's trapped in one and he'll need to learn how to enter and fabricate realities himself in order to save her.

Status: plotting

WIP intro coming soon

Other Starfish WIPs I'm technically working on, in the background, that I probably won't talk about unless someone wants me to:

The Siege of Coracaltone: a space opera about cinnamon roll wizard Flynn on a quest but gets sidetracked by space pirates (waiting for a rewrite)

Pirates vs Dinosaurs: cosmic horror about, you guessed it, pirates and dinosaurs and the slow dissolving of their sanity (drafted and just waiting for editing time)

Dreams of the Spiral: a prelude to Records of the Spiral about the band Red Tape Rocket and the summer things got really weird (still being planned)

If any of them pique your interest and you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!

[burningmuses]

RUINS

because isn’t there a beauty in ruins? isn’t that why people came all the way to rome, to stare at the crumbling pillars melting into ivy, letting that living vine lift where stones could not? isn’t there something breath-taking about a burial ground, filled with moss-covered headstones you dig your nails into, pulling away with palms full of green and rust and the shadow of a ghost? because ruins are like a wounded mother, bleeding but still fighting, teeth bared. because ruins mean someone, ages ago, isn’t forgotten. here is where she walked, here is where she ran. here is where she laid under the sky and let herself feel small, feel infinitely unknown beneath a sky full of things she couldn’t name. because i am a ruin—did you see the marble of my throat, where he chipped away at it? did you see the vines that are crawling across my chest? it’s been so long since something touched my heart. did you see the cobwebs in the corners of my eyes? i’ve kept them shut for so long.

give me a reason to open them.

–by @falteringperceptions

***Kevin’s Note: This was from 2013 and from when I was a BLUE TAG POETRY EDITOR here on tumblr. Yes, there used to be editors here on tumblr that were "supposed" to sift through mountains of poetry and "TAG" them for others to read without having to search. This was also when I started the Recognizing The Voiceless (RTV) reblog blog and was deep-diving into the lesser known poetry of the day. Back then it was before Yahoo! bought tumblr and added all the BS ads you see now. There were many more writers and poets here and created the Tumblr Writing Community (TWC). It would take me hours to TAG the ten best poems IMHO…we only were allowed 10 tags and there were only ten of us I believe. All this is to say…the above piece is STUNNING to me…it was back then, and it still is today! There are stunning pieces on tumblr today, but there were sooooo many more back in the day. Doesn’t have anything to do with you poets, it’s just a numbers game really. More writers to read and more time to read them. I LOVE you all…mean it!***

[deathbind]

Further information on these verses can be found by reading the verse profile (linked in the verse's name), checking out the important hcs posts, or poking through the appropriate tag. Questions are always welcome as well! All verses open to anyone interested.

PRIMARY VERSES.

VERSE / COME WINDS OF FATE AND TIME. Generalized DND.

(Locations and years are intentionally left vague to allow for flexibility.) Serot has been reborn on the continent of Faerûn. His memory is fractured, his skills gone to rust. He can only think to make his way to Meket and hope he finds his memories along the way. He uses his affinity for necromancy to pay his way, often acting as a spirit medium or dealing with restless undead. He's always glad to make new acquaintances and would happily travel with someone going the same way.

ARC | TAKE MY TEARFUL MEMORIES. For interactions taking place before Serot has recovered his memories. He will soon uncover a bond from the past that threatens to consume him. ARC | BUT ONLY ECHOES FADE AWAY. For interactions taking place after Serot has recovered his memories but has not yet made it to Meket. He knows he walks a path to ruin, yet he cannot turn aside. ARC | BURNING AWAY HOLLOW HOPE. For interactions taking place after Serot has returned to Meket. He finds himself vaulted into disaster they say he can resolve. If he isn't careful, he'll bring on their heads a fate worse than they can imagine.

VERSE / PRAY FOR GOD WHERE ANGELS HAVE GONE. Baldur's Gate 3.

Serot was reborn in Baldur's Gate about a year and a half before the game's start. It was there he was abducted onto the nautiloid and infected. He seeks a remedy to his affliction but finds his memories first. They reveal a connection that has threatened to claim his soul across centuries. Still, he cannot bring himself to sever it. If he is not dissuaded, he will save himself from ceremophosis only to be lost to a worse fate.

VERSE / COME DUSK THE PAST WILL FLEE. Generalized DND + Baldur's Gate 3.

A catch-all verse for any of Serot's past lifetimes. Bios for these will be linked on his biography / character sheet page when written up. If one of those works better, anyone is welcome to request them.

ALTERNATE + CROSSOVER VERSES.

VERSE / CRUEL BLADES AND TEARS IN SORROWFUL DAYS. Dragon Age.

Serot is the father of Nevarra's death rites, the necromancer who laid the foundation for the Mortalitasi to come. His soul has been recalled again and again to keep the mysteries and guide future generations. When their rites have been repressed, he has held them in wait for resurrection: the Saint Eternal, the Guardian Against Plague. There are few Nevarrans venerate more. He is resurrected in the Dragon Age and has involvement in all the games.

[shinigamimailjeevas]

For the WIP tag game, all your WIPs look amazing but 1, 5, 8 and 16 have me intrigued 👀

1: A Million On My Soul– so I first started noting this April 2022 and it has 27 pages of notes/half written scenes. But it keeps getting put on the back-burner for other projects.

Eyes parted into slivers, unblinking, unmoving—lifeless. “Liam?” he tries to scrape the blood and wolfsbane from Liam's face, only managing to streak purple dust down his cheek and across his lips instead. “Liam?” He listens for the heart that had become as familiar a tune as the one that rested in his own chest; one that he had fallen asleep to for many nights only to hear silence.

“Liam!” Shaking the beta sharply, his lips curl into a facsimile of a snarl, all teeth and trembling lips. Tears form and fall as he pulls Liam into his arms, Theo hiding his face in the ruin of that stupid Beacon Hills hoodie. The one with a hole in the sleeve that constantly caught on any edge encountered and had more bleach spots than maroon color anymore. Deaton finds him minutes, perhaps even hours later. He'd heard the former emissaries footsteps long before he spoke.

“You know it is not safe to still be here.” The chimera lifts his head to look at the haggard man, face sticky with more than tears. The war had touched them all in different yet equally draining way.

“Nowhere is safe anymore.” The unspoken 'I will not leave him' hangs between them. The last light disappears with the sun as it dips below the horizon bringing shadows forth to cover part of Deaton's face. He sighs. “I really did not want to do this.”

Theo feels the jab before even noticing Deaton's hand move. As his eyes slip closed and he falls forward, the last thing he sees is the apologetic expression.

5: Learning Your Worth (Argent sells Theo) – so this oneeeeee. The basic premise is that Argent agrees to hand Theo over to another pack in exchange for information on Monroe, including hideout locations, her supporters etc. The notes are split between three documents but I have not sat down to write it out yet. It's also meant to be Thiam (with a twist pairing in the tiny sequel, entirely my beta MelMat's fault.

Alvarez—as Theo has been calling him since he refuses to call him Alpha, or any name that gives him power—paces the length of the room, hand resting on his left hip, gait throwing to the same side as the weight of his single arm messes with his balance. "I am so tired of you special bloodline folk. Or the ones who are handed abilities on a silver platter. You know nothing of what true struggle is." His red eyed gaze snaps between his beta—a rust colored shifter who Theo has never seen outside of her wolf form, who is always at Alphas heel—and Theo, who despite the continuous need to heal, is bright eyed and as smart mouthed as ever.

"I've heard of you 'chimeras'. Spliced together genetically, held together by means most have no hope of understanding." Alvarez stops, suddenly, his entire being locking up, still. So very still. Theo grinds his teeth against the spike in his instincts, the one that pleads he flee from the threat. Alvarez turns toward him, slow with movements jerking like a broken marionette; his lips are pulled back into a monstrous grin, wide, feral. "I am not most," he motions to the stump of his missing arm, flesh a gnarled white with groovespetering the end—claw marks, Theo realizes when he focuses on it, "your secrets will be uncovered. With it. The return of what is mine."

8: Asher/Liam- :) yeah. I really couldn't help myself here. Started off as a smutty oneshot idea and then kinda kept growing. A lot of the notes are not typed up yet though. But here is the opener:

Liam meets Asher at a club. At first he confuses him with the missing Chimera, but after taking an open mouthed breath—while stalking over, trying to conceal glowing eyes and lengthening teeth—he notices the lack of the soap Theo uses. This person's scent is all wrong. The look-alike smells sweeter. Like ripe pears and summer sun, whereas Theo is earthy, like really good potting soil and pine. The guy arches a brow, smiling easy and confident as Liam stops short, realizing his error but still confused because, hello, he looks almost exactly like Theo.

“Can I help you?”

Liam shakes his head.

“Sorry, You just really look like someone I know.” He smiles awkwardly back and wishes he were still across the room so he could observe not-Theo a little longer.

“Is this ‘someone’ you like to have fun with?” Not-Theo asks and Liam can smell his curiosity…and arousal as he eye-checks him. It makes him blush, but he manages not to stutter as he usually does in these situations. “Ah, no. Not like that.”

Not-Theo’s expression falls the tiniest bit in disappointment. Liam licks his lips nervously. He shifts his weight foot-to-foot and his heart starts to beat fast. He is curious. Feels kind of bold too, for once. “But maybe you could be that kind of fun.”

And not-Theo’s expression turns into a wide smile, carefree and interested. Charming, in a different way than Theo, and sincere. “Well then, shall we get the hell out of here?”

16: Beast Flesh (Scott ruins Liam) – This is pretty much smut. With an amusing ending.

"Don't give me that look," he glares down at the alpha, knowing that if Scott really tried he could overpower him unless it was a Supermoon. "You are always telling me to control myself. To keep my emotions in check. Keep the wolf in check." Clawed hands press harder against Scott's shoulders but do not dig in. "Your problem is you never let go so you can't actually help me." Liam leans in with eyes blazing gold. "Let go. For tonight, let go." Scott freezes. He doesn't even breathe.

"You don't know what you're asking." His body remains stiff under Liam, as if moving means he will give in. Liam realizes he wants that more than anything. "I want you, Scott." lips a breath from touching, Liam whispers his next words. "To. Let. Go." He kisses him and for a terrifying moment he fears he's majorly messed up, until Scott's eyes bleed a deep satisfying red. Liam has no time for a reply as his arms are pushed to the side and a clawed grip holds them tight as he is swung underneath the alpha. Scott grinds their hips together, nosing at his neck, scenting him as Liam lets out a shuddering gasp. Parting his legs, Scott falls into the welcoming space, "Liam".

His name, said like that, tightens something in the betas chest. He needs more.

[thornstocutyouwith]

name : Karma

pronouns : Wouldn't you like to know.

preference of communication : Usually Discord or Tumblr, I don't do social media outside of that.

most active muse : Look, my most active muses are going to be whatever one you're engaging with. My energy will almost always match the others, if we keep things going and storied.

experience / how many years : Probably around a decade? I started pretty young on my adventures lol. Went from swinging rusted pipes outside my house and pretending they were staffs, to playing video games and aspiring in writing. pfft.

best experience : Uuuh, just roleplaying in general has been pretty great, even with the people who wanted to harsh my fucking mellow for their own selfish shit. Not my friend, not my problem. I'm still here, because of the love of writing, and making friends, everything else just noise that will eventually fuck off.

rp pet peeves : All the liars, isolators, abusers, being fostered in the community because people confusing being 'sweet' with being nice, too often, and then not saying shit when something wrong really happens, like all the harassment and bullying that goes on in these communities. It ain't the harassers fault, as much as it's ours for failing to be responsible and brave enough to tell these people to fuck off more often. Instead they ruin our community and we sit by and watch as they shit on it with their arbiter behavior. And it's never going to end because half the time when people do stand up to these losers, no one has their backs. Because they are too scared to stand up for themselves, let alone others. Then we have as a group chosen to isolate from others and ask why we aren't getting attention. You ain't shy, you're just avoidant and want everyone else to do shit for you, instead.... Uncle Ben would probably be disappointed in us all lol.

fluff, angst, or smut : Angst, of course lol.

plots or memes : Both are fine, but meme's seem to get us there quicker.

long or short replies : Long replies are my thing. Short replies stifle me to much because it's inherent implication in most that the opposite writer is lazy. I don't care what the tumblr 'positivity' posts say. Half of you are simply just not writing to experience this hobby for what it is, creating a story. And that's fine. You do you. I'll play ball just the same.

time to write : Almost any time, this is more a career to me, being a writer, than a hobby, Roleplay is just warm up and practice for me. And I'm sick of people acting like it's just something throwaway, storytelling has and will always be an essential part of human existence. Read the room "It's just a Hobby" Yeah, because you are trying to get good at it, Jan. Tired of placating. If a boxer gets kicked to hard, the other guy can't go "It's just a hobby bro." Own your bruises lol. Love your hobbies, they are you.

are you like your muses : Yes, parts of me exist in most, if not all my muses in some part. Because writers always leave pieces of themselves in their art. Because every word written might as well be our blood.

tagged by: @ofwondersandhares

tagging: Anyone who wants to do this.

[rustandruin]

TOP 10 TAGS ON YOUR BLOG TAG GAME

Tagged by the lovely @theredandwhitequeen and the wonderful @keepersofmyheart. Thanks guys! 

1. Emmerdale (How I miss you, ye olde farmer soape)  

2. Robron 

3. Robert Sugden

4. Queue rious george (Still very proud of this)

5. Aaron Dingle

6. Marvel

7. MCU

8. Rust and Ruin Blogs

9. Star Wars 

10. lololol

This was so fun! I’m going to tag: @whatdoiknow, @illgetmerope @spamela-hamderson @dobrien @niccolofares @thompsonconnors @dingletragedy @luststricken @susieskinner93 @nooneelsecomesclose17 @irisnsc @omarandjohnny@robbleraptor @jonny-versace and anyone else who wants to! 

[friendzonefrog]

Morbid Curiosity - WIP Intro and Masterpost

Genre: Horror / Thriller

Rating: M (17+) [ may change or vary by installment ]

Status: Conceptualization / Plotting stage

Anthology series spanning several subgenres of horror, highlighting the weird, the paranormal, the terror in the mundane, and those who can't help but go looking for answers. Master tag: #wip: Morbid Curiosity

🎪 #1 Funfair

Paranormal

▸ A college photojournalist visits the site of an abandoned amusement park harboring dark secrets and horrors unknown.

Aesthetics: the cold and wet of autumn // eerie calliope music // echoes in dark tunnels // jumping at your own reflection in a funhouse mirror // creepy clowns.

Influences: Stephen King's 'It' // Jordan Peele's 'Us'

✯ Intro post ✯ Teaser moodboard ✯ Playlist ✯ Character meme (Tens But tag game)

Tag: #wip: Funfair

🌾 #2 Backroad Blues

Southern Gothic

▸ A big storm's brewing in Uncertain, Texas, home to a population of 80 citizens devoted to preserving the town's rich history... however gruesome it may be.

Aesthetics: banjo, harmonica, violin // old farmhouses and lakeside cabins // rusted silos and water towers // scary rednecks with double-barreled shotguns.

Influences: Supernatural // Resident Evil 7 // Jeepers Creepers

♞ Intro post coming soon! ♞ Spotify playlist

Tag: #backroad blues

🏰 #3 The Fall of Strömberg

Gothic/Macabre

▸ In 1520, a banquet was set ablaze, killing a family of Swedish nobles, along with their guests. Since that night, nobody has entered the castle ruins and lived to tell the tale.

Aesthetics: fire against the night sky // gargoyles perched above you // moonlight peering in through stained-glass windows // dark dungeons and long corridors // twisted alchemy.

Influences: Dracula // a dash of Midsommar

❋ Intro post coming soon! ❋ Spotify playlist ❋ Snippet (last line tag game) ❋ Character meme / first look (Tens But tag game)

Tag: #the fall of strömberg

🛒 #4 Night Shift

Slasher

▸ Retail employees on the night shift usually have to fight to stay awake... but tonight they must fight to stay alive, as an unseen killer attempts to pick them off one by one.

Aesthetics: mannequins and their blank smiles // fluorescent lights // loud music blaring over the speakers // handprints on fogged-up freezer doors.

Influences: Scream // I Know What you Did Last Summer // Until Dawn

☾ Intro post coming soon! ☾ Spotify playlist

Tag: #wip: Night Shift

---

TAG LIST INFO:

With autumn writing vibes kicking in, and spooky season right around the corner, I'm hoping to be pretty inspired and active with these for the next few months :D

I'll be doing separate tag lists for each installment, since the aesthetics are pretty different. If you're interested in being added to the tag list for one or more of these, lmk! <3

[dailyadventureprompts]

Could you impart advice on creating memorable adventures and campaigns?

Ok so my thoughts on this ended up becoming a bit long for a single post, so I decided to split it up and throw in a few example prompts along with it, you’ll be able to find them all in my “Drafting an Adventure” tag below over the next couple days. 

Drafting an Adventure, Step 1: Making them Care

First and foremost,  figure out an emotional appeal, and be sure to start with it: D&D as a game is only so fun, but the actual STORIES you end up creating and sharing with your friends are the real draw, they’re what you’re going to remember YEARS down the line and they’re predicated on getting your audience to care about the tale you’re creating with them. 

I can’t tell you how many d&d adventures I’ve seen fall flat because their hook is based purely on in game rewards, or because they sold themselves on emulating a genre without ever understanding the FEELING that genre was built around.  So many DMs spend all their time working on the lore of their world, but fail to provide the smallest accommodations  to make players feel welcome and involved in the story being told.

Say the Dm wants to introduce a lich villain the party is going to face off with  somewhere down the line, so they have undead rising from a local tomb and offer the players a reward for exterminating them. This is going to send them into a dungeon, have them face off against successive waves of creepier and creepier skeletons, until they get to the boss skeleton, and get some insight into the lich’s existence.   BORING, no one cares, there’s no stakes, there’s absolutely no emotional bond between the players, the lich, the town, or even the enemies themselves, all there is the obligation to go on the adventure because its there, and the vague promise of more fun later in the form of gold and XP 

Here’s a better version: 

The party is in town for a festival (reason to be in this particular spot at this time, the promise of fun) celebrating the end of a war some decades ago ( history, useful later, not important, but you can use it for hooks) .  They meet some amusing npcs at the festival/get to see their allies having fun ( emotional hook with the world) and goof of a bit with festive games and antics ( lightweight challenges that let your players express what’s fun about their character).  

Suddenly, a throng of skeletons in rusting armor attack the festival, people scream, everything is chaos, and our drunken heroes must rise to the occasion! ( a unique combat encounter with the party intoxicated, caught of guard, and disorganized,   set against an intriguing background and imperiling both their own enjoyment AND the NPCS we’ve grown to like). 

After the battling bones are dispatched, the party is left with the challenge of figuring out where they came from, and why, ( mechanical variation, going from hijinx to combat to investigation), which eventually leads them to a nearby ruined fortress that played an important role in the war ( backstory hook paying off, also time for a dungeon).  Exploring the ruins leads the party to encounter more undead soldiers, and the necromancer who raises them by calling upon their rage at being slaughtered and defeated   ( likely setting up a campaign theme of lost causes, and the human costs that are forgotten after victory is achieved).   The villain warns them that these soldiers are intended as a gift for the necromancer’s unseen master ( hey look, another plothook, possibly including OTHER apprentice badguys looking to pay tribute to our eventual arch-villain) and that disturbing the process will make the party enemies of a force far greater than them ( now a legit choice, do the heroes kick the hornet's nest?) . They slay the necromancer or accept his bribe, and then return back to town with a lot more questions than they started with. 

See how much more rich that is, how many more opportunities the players have to become invested, regardless of what aspect of the D&D experience brings them to the table? If you ran this adventure the “traditional” way, it’d be a quick stop in at the local tavern or a notice-board bounty, then a session or two of slogging through a dank ruin fighting same-y enemies that the players and their characters don’t honestly care about.  This way, you’ve given the party a whole host of things to care about: 

A chance to bond with  each other and with NPCS at the festival 

An interest in the setting, and how the war relates to the wider campaign lore

Their reputation as vanquishers of the undead and saviors of the town, which you can leverage into future adventures.  

The threat of an enemy gathering power somewhere out in the world. 

Art source 1

Art source 2

[zv5x]

Who (in your opinion) is a scarier yandere, Spirit, DD, or Auditor?

In all honesty, they're all scary yanderes to have for their own reasons. But if I were to choose, I might have to choose Spirit? I might be biased (I probably am), but, to make up for it, we're going to over analyze some more fictional characters. All three of them, we're doing this.

This is gonna be a long one lmao

(HCs go in order of Spirit (Friday Night Funkin'), The Auditor (Madness Combat), and Daddy Dearest (Friday Night Funkin'), for those wanting just one specific character (and for madcom fans wondering why tf fnf content is in their tags lmao)

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Spirit

What makes him scary is most definitely his blatant disregard for human life. Your life? Your life is precious to him, and he wouldn't even think to disregard it. However, the lives of those others...it can't be said that he feels the same type of pity. Humans are most definitely inferior in his eyes, and your life is the only mortal life he'd even think to spend his time protecting and cherishing. You're his favorite human, without any hesitation; a pretty gem in an entire caves-worth of rust and coal. So, for that, no level of eternal agony spent in the depts of hellfire is too harsh for those who dare stand in his way. It's only fair they get what they deserve, maybe it'll teach them to be more careful and watch who they cross

Additionally, there's absolutely no way to escape him. He's nearly unkillable by human standards, and your innocent little brain couldn't even begin to understand what it would take to get rid of him. Death wouldn't save you either, he's a demon after all, and do you genuinely think having a demon as well-known as him will make you look any bit pure in the eyes of those guarding Heaven's gate? You'd go straight to where he came from, and it will take absolutely no time to hunt you down. This is Spirit's one chance at intimacy. He has his eyes set on you, you're perfect for him. He doesn't want to lose you any time soon. And he won't. He'll make sure of it. No fate of yours now is a fate that doesn't include Spirit. You'll learn to get used to it soon. Humans were always so fond of the concept of soulmates, as silly as it sounded to him. A situation like this is something right in your biggest desires, is it not?

He's also definitely not above hurting you. You upset him, you angered him, and now he's been left no other choice. You need to be taught a lesson, in his view. And it doesn't matter how hard you cry from the unimaginable pain a demon such as him can bring upon you, just as long as this experience brings you closer to loving him even a quarter of how much he loves you. It's for the best, he'll tell you

I can imagine him extra terrifying if the way he met you is from you being trapped in the Hating Simulator at the same time he was. Mentally, that place ruined him. Deprived of interaction from any entity, left to rot, it really would do a number on anyone. His mind was occupied by wishes to leave and uncharted rage. However, that was until he stumbled across you. He didn't think to wonder what you did to cross DD and land yourself a spot in here, he didn't even think to wonder how long you've been here for. All he knew is that he liked the way you looked at him, and he wants to make sure he was the only one you could look at for the rest of eternity. He'd cling to you like his life depended on it, letting you hold him and looking suspiciously out of character when you're away. It quickly became apparent he relied on you to hold what crumbs were left of his sanity in place. He loved you. He loved you so much. He told you that all the time. He loved you so much, that he didn't even seem concerned when you broke down in fits of anxiety about what would become of the two of you. He was hurt not by the circumstances, but by the fact you were hurt. The game didn't matter to him anymore. There was nothing in this world worth thinking about besides you. With you around, he felt contempt knowing that the code of his game would one day collapse, because he knew that you'd be dying right there alongside him. In death, nothing could tear the two of you apart. You'd be his forever, and vice versa. So he held a straight face (non literally, of course) as he watched you cry. He knew that offering support in the form of reminders that death would bring to them an eternal and unbreakable partnership, was less than smart as for some reason you seemed too angry about your situation to see the pros rather than just the cons. He had successfully gotten to you. It made Spirit sick. Maybe that rage would be enough to return his desire to live on with you, find a way to leave and move on from the game; as knowing that vile monster was able to get under your skin absolutely enraged him. But that's alright. Spirit will find a way to free you. It would make you happy, and you'll feel even happier when DD is reduced to a bloody pulp. It's not like murder is something that he wouldn't do for you. After all, he deserves death for what he's done to you, for how he's made you feel. Spirit was only being fair in giving him what he asked for

Auditor

The Auditor builds his relationships off of inferiority and desperation, and craves his partner to feel deep feelings of inadequacy when compared to someone like him. To put it in much simpler terms: you are lower than him, you belong to him. Everytime you disobey him he sees your actions with no more care than a dog owner would give to a whining puppy. Your feelings don't matter in this situation, only his, you're nothing more than a pet in his eyes. He'd much appreciate you if you'd just accept that already

His sadism is most definitely an aspect that makes him "scary", considering no punishment is too far in his eyes if it feels it's able to teach you a lesson. Your pain doesn't deter him, it does quite the opposite actually. He truly feels you deserve what he's doing to you, and so, he has absolutely no reason to not enjoy what he's doing. He's not above giving you a front seat ticket to watch the horrors of Nevada unfold right before your very eyes. Do you genuinely wish to leave him when this is the world you'll be so cluelessly throwing yourself into? Do you really think you can survive in an environment like that without his protection? You're very stupid for thinking something like that, and he'll tell you as you look on at what you're seeing with wide eyes. You'd get torn to shreads out there. If you're so angered by the "humiliating" restraints he puts on you then maybe you'd do much better with your body defiled and your head on a stick. Is something like that truly better than just giving yourself up to him?

If you're good, he'll take such good care of you, without a doubt. He loves his pet, after all. How could he not? He's gonna take extremely good care of you, no matter how many murders you have to witness or how many times he's forced to make you scream in agony. He'll make sure you're the only one in his life, and he'll make sure he's all that goes through your head. Even if something like that requires breaking your mind completely. He's not turned off to the idea, though.

Daddy Dearest

For some reason, I do see him as less "scary" than the other two listed here. However, he most definitely has his moments. He's infamous, feared throughout his community. People know what he's done to others who have crossed him, and they'd rather do absolutely anything other than get on his bad side. How better else to get on his bad side than to get in between him and those he cares about? He's definitely possessive of you, incredibly suffocating as well. He barely let's you around others, out of the great inconveniences he believes they may cause

Willing to go to great lengths to keep you with him, he won't hesitate to show you the same fates he's so mercilessly given to others to teach you a lesson. For starters, the Hating Simulator is still able to be occupied. Maybe a little vacation would teach you a good lesson. Speaking of which, he's definitely prone to threats. Think of what DD could have done to you before you try and run away like you tried last time. If you need to be scared of him, then so be it. He knows you'll get over yourself eventually. And if you don't, it's not like more drastic measures aren't able to be made. He might just have to get creative with how he's punishing you, that's all! Not much. He wasn't doing anything wrong on his side anyways, all the blame falls on you and your refusal to accept the situation

He'd really do anything for you though, nothing is off the table for him. Killing people or throwing into such harsh fates they wish desperately death was an option, he's not in any way above it. He doesn't claim to be. He knows he's a murderer, and with the way he speaks it's almost as if he's proud of his own work. A sick minded engineer of his own reality, if you will. He reminds you all the time of the power you hold now. Nobody can ever bother you again, they fear him. So, he can protect you from them all Perhaps that's what makes him scary: the lengths he's willing to go for you. Or perhaps it's that unshakable dread, knowing any moment he could toss you with nothing left but broken dreams and an imprisoned soul. Either way, you're not leaving, and he's contempt knowing such a fact

[hughiecampbelle]

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.

[heyhey-heyward]

WHAT WE WANT | part one

THE INVITATION

summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with JJ Maybank. Complicated in the sense that JJ has always had a crush on you and is unable to express it in other ways than shameless flirting. 

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

If you’re a tourist on the Outer Banks looking for some place to eat, you’re probably going to end up at The Wreck. If you’re a strapped for cash teenager named JJ, Pope, or John B looking to score a free meal, you’re also probably going to end up at The Wreck.

Which is where the three found themselves as their fourth member, Kiara, the daughter of the owner of The Wreck, finished her shift. They were at a table in the back, halfway through lunch and trying their hardest to not be too rowdy and get kicked out. Kiara told her dad she was taking a break and shoved herself into the booth with the boys.

“Kegger tonight?” John B questioned out of the blue, pausing his game of throwing fries at Pope as he tried to catch them in his mouth. So far, they had been unsuccessful—evident by the way the ground around them was littered with fries.

“That’s a good idea.” JJ pointed at his best friend since the third grade with a grin that seemed to always spell trouble. And without further deliberation, it was settled. The Pogues would throw a party in celebration of absolutely nothing.

The door opened and a new customer entered, though that didn’t catch the attention of the group. JJ, who was seated in the same side of the booth as John B, both had their backs to the door. Neither bothered to turn around, assuming that it was just another tourist stopping in to escape the summer heat. That was, until, the newcomer spoke up and JJ recognized the voice immediately.

“Hey, Mr. C.” The cheery voice called, and JJ spun around so fast in his seat his friends were genuinely worried that he might have given himself whiplash.

Y/N Y/L/N. A name more renowned on The Cut than Maybank or Routledge or Heyward, you knew everyone and their mother on the island. If something broke, they called you and within five minutes you’d be able to tell them what’s wrong and how to fix it. You learned from your father, who owned the best auto shop on the island.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” Mr. Carrera asked as you approached the counter that he stood behind. He had called you to take a look at one of his old generators that hadn’t been working properly, and you had been out back working on it.

“One of the parts rusted so bad it stopped working, but I’ve already called to order a new one. I’ll let you know when it arrives.” You explained, giving him the short version of what you had accomplished.

“You’re a lifesaver, here’s lunch as payment.” Mr. C grinned, putting a container of your usual order on the counter. Usually, you charged Kooks, but his cooking was good enough that you overlooked it. You grinned, thanking him before turning to leave. Before you could get too far, someone called your name. You recognized the four faces that sat around the table that the sound originated from, and made your way over to them with a smile.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” You asked as approached. John B had been the one to call out to you. You knew him from school and hung out together at parties every once in a while, but you were never the closest. Across from him sat Pope, who you had studied with on a few occasions and even helped his dad deliver groceries when you needed the extra money. Beside him was Kiara, who you didn’t know all too well since she went to the Kook Academy. Still, you liked the girl from what you had seen of her.

And then there was JJ, whose stare you were actively avoiding. It wasn’t that you had anything against him, it was just the fact that each time you crossed paths he would flirt with you if given the chance. And you were trying really hard to not give him the chance.

Because as much as you had a reputation on The Cut, so did JJ Maybank.

Looking past his family tree of smugglers and whatnot, he had made a name for himself among the tourist girls that visited the Outer Banks. He was famous for his one night stands with Tourons that would leave in a week and he’d never see again. Ever since you had met him, he had been trying to get you to be one more of his conquests.

And as tempting as his bright blue eyes were, you were determined not to let yourself be just another notch in his bedpost.

“Are you busy later today?” John B asked, ignoring the way JJ elbowed him. You shook your head, mentally running through your schedule for the day. The Carrera’s generator had been the last thing booked for the day, knowing you needed to run some errands for your father before heading back home, leaving your evening free. “Could you look at the HMS Pogue? Something is wrong with the engine and I can’t figure it out.”

“No problem.” You waved him off. It wasn’t unusual for you to work on John B’s boat, it probably would have been scrapped for parts if it weren’t for your repairs. You were a saving grace among the old equipment that many Pogues owned.

“We’re throwing a kegger after, so if you want, you can come with us after.” John B offered. You grinned, it had been awhile since you had let loose, too busy working to help keep your parents afloat like most teenagers on The Cut.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ve got to run, but text me when you want me to come by.” You called as you started backing away from the table. After receiving a nod from John B, you moved to smile at the other three sitting around the table. Before you could stop it, your gaze locked with JJ’s and in the split second it took for you to turn around, he shot you a wink that made your heart rate spike. As you left the restaurant, you couldn’t help but wonder just why the blond had such an effect on you, even when you so adamantly wanted to avoid him.

“How can you do that?” JJ turned to John B with an incredulous look on his face as soon as the door shut behind you. He was met with an amused and slightly confused look from his best friend, who was having a hard time figuring out what was so out of the ordinary.

“What, talk to her?” John B questioned, a look of realization crossing over his face. He’d seen the way JJ looked at you, and he was quickly connecting the dots.

“Talk to her like, I don’t know, she’s one of us! That’s Y/N Y/L/N, practically Pogue royalty.” JJ gushed, waving his hands around dramatically to drive home the point that he thought you were something spectacular. “I’ve been trying to get with her for months, bro, and she won’t give me the time of day.”

“That’s because she’s smart, J.” Kiara teased, reaching across the table to ruffle his already messy hair for added annoyance. JJ scoffed, running his hands through his hair dramatically to try and get it back to its previous unstyled style.

“And she’s really nice, and offering to fix the boat for free, so you better not ruin this for me by sleeping with her.” John B threateningly pointed a fry at JJ as he spoke. The blond surprised the whole table by flushing at the brunet’s words, glancing down at the table to try and hide his embarrassment.

JJ Maybank had a reputation of being a player. And yes, he did hookup with Tourons after most parties—but he thought you were different. Ever since he had seen you for the first time at The Boneyard laughing loudly at something someone had said, he was done for. You were the first girl that he wanted something more with, the first girl that made him not make fun of other couples because you were the first girl that made him realize he wanted what they had.  

“Shut up, does my little JJ have a crush?” Kiara cooed, and John B went to pinch JJ’s cheeks, but the blond was faster and slapped his hands away.

“No, I don’t! She’s just cool, I wouldn’t do something like that to her.” JJ mumbled. He wondered why he couldn’t just stop himself from talking, but then he pictured your smile once more and the corner of his lips quirked up subconsciously.

“Yeah, JJ, that’s because you have a crush on her.” Pope joined in on the teasing, and JJ decided that he had enough and tossed his balled up napkin at his friend.

“Don’t we have a party to get ready for?”

—

taglist:

@pixelated-pogues​ @bailspogue​ @delilahandshawn @annedub​ @shawnssongs​ @beautyandthebleh​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @sunflowerbecca​ @maybankiara​ @mimithefangirl25 @deviouscharitos​ @drewstarkeyobx​ @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies @ihatemyself21​ @sunwardsss​ @kayak-huesgen​ 

tags with a strikethrough didn’t work

let me know what you think !!

[viking-raider]

A Soldier’s Daughter - Chapter III

Summary: Skye and Geralt make it to Kaer Morhen and start settling in for the winter there. Geralt starts feeling something he’s desperately trying not too.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/OFC

Word Count: 7,255

Previous Chapters: I II

Rating: PG-13 - Witcher!AU, Language, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Inspiration: The Witcher on Netflix, with instances of the Games and Books.

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!

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Kaer Morhen, also known as the School of the Wolf, had been the home and stronghold for Witchers throughout the countless centuries. It was huge and bleak, its back butted up against the massive mountain ranges that composed the Blue Mountains of Kaedwen.

Several of its towers and walls were in sad disrepair, crumbling and toppled over through the years and years of neglect and inefficient means to repair them. As straight forward the path looked on the way up the mountain towards Kaer Morhen, it wasn't at all what it seemed to the inexperienced eye, or even an experienced one; many Witchers over the years had found themselves lost on the trail, after being away from school for so long, they had forgotten where to look. Anyone seeking entry into Kaer Morhen, and didn't know where to go, would only end up going in circles around the stronghold, and before they even finished the first go around, the Witchers inside would know of their presence.

Geralt and Skye walked along the mountain path towards the stronghold, the snow almost to her knees, the forest around them shushed in the thick blanket of the white powder, a sparse flurry of thick flakes stirred around them in the blowing breeze. The atmosphere around them was so peaceful and calming, the crisp air filling their lungs and making their cheeks rosy in color. Geralt paused for a moment, fumbling for something in Roach's bag, when something smacked him in the back, and he turned around to Skye, who looked behind her, then frowned back at Geralt.

“What?” She lifted a brow at him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you just throw snow at me?” He asked, suspicious.

“I don't even know what that is.” She countered, frowning at him harder, but her green eyes danced with guilt. “Roach must have done it.”

“While facing me?”

“You're the Witcher, I'm sure you've seen crazier.” Skye grinned at him.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed, shaking his head at her and going back into Roach's bag. “Come along, snow thrower.” He called to her over his shoulder, moving off the path and vanishing into a thicket of trees.

Skye frowned and blinked, then moved after him, following the foot and hoof prints in the once virgin blanket of snow. “Why are we off the path?” She called after him, trying her best to catch up with him through the deep snow.

“Won't we get lost?”

“No, I know where I'm going.” Geralt replied over his shoulder, then paused, letting her catch up. “Here.” He stilled Roach, holding her reins tight and pulled himself into the mare's saddle. “We'll be going uphill the rest of the way and the snow is only going to get deeper. It'll be easier and less of a chore, if we ride Roach.” He explained to her, reaching down to her.

Skye hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, allowing him to boost her up into Roach's saddle behind him; she gulped as she settled behind him, thighs gripping Roach's sides. They had never been in such close and tight proximity, they rarely even touched, unless absolutely required, and even then it was only for a split moment, before breaking apart again. Skye was instantly surrounded by the intense heat of Geralt's body, which nearly matched Roach's, she felt the icicles that had frozen inside of her over the last two and a half days start to drip as they thawed between Roach and Geralt's body heat. It was by pure instinct, that she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chest against his board back, slipping a bit closer to him as Roach started forward.

Geralt's body was stiff as they rode towards Kaer Morhen, the solid and light weight of her body pressed against his caused the twinge that had been planted in the pit of his stomach, like a seed in the ground, to start germinate and threatened to send its thin and fragile roots even deeper into the Witcher's body, taking a hold of him, permanently. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body and mind to kill it, before it could properly grow and turn into something he simply could not allow to happen, not again.

He couldn't take it again.

As Kaer Morhen finally came into full view, Skye pushed herself up in Roach's saddle to see over Geralt's shoulder to check it out. It was huge, hulking, run down and gloomy, she felt her mood almost plummet, seeing the new home she would be spending the next three month in with Geralt and Vesemir. Her family farm wasn't much, but at least it was a sight better than this place was. She sighed and sat back again, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against Geralt's back, feeling his leather armor underneath his thick black cloak. He sighed softly, knowing she still wasn't happy about all that was going on, the situation seeming more dire than it really was, but they were both learning to tolerate it.

The rusted portcullis of Kaer Morhen's front gate was closed as Skye and Geralt approached on Roach, at last. But, a few feet from it, a groan sounded through the air, both echoing in the vast mountain range and hushed by the thick blanket of snow that surrounded it, an eerie phenomenon, that gave Skye a shiver. The rusted, iron gate started to draw upwards, complaining the whole way up, but Geralt didn't seem alarmed that the gate just suddenly opened, with no one seemingly controlling it.

They proceeded through the stronghold, Skye glancing around at the ruined structures, the wild and overgrown brushes and grass. It felt supernatural and uncanny, like they'd entered some strange and ancient graveyard. Skye felt like she could almost sense and see the residual energy of the Witchers bygone, like they haunted the grounds they had spent so much of their time on, being twisted into advanced humans with vile sorcery. They came to the main building of the stronghold and found a tall man, long gray hair reaching his shoulders and pulled back in a very similar style to Geralt's, with an equally gray, horseshoe mustache and honey-gold eyes.

Skye knew immediately that it was Vesemir, who else could it be?

“Geralt.” Vesemir called out in a deep and raspy voice.

“Vesemir!” Geralt called back with a nod of his head.

“You're late.” The older Witcher pointed out, lifting a gray brow at him. “I didn't think you were coming this winter.” He stated, head tilting as he caught a glimpse of Skye, nearly hidden behind Geralt's wide body.

“Well, I ran into a couple of challenges.” He replied, looking over his shoulder to Skye, who looked terrified, and gave her thigh a gentle pat, before dismounting Roach and helping her down. “Are Lambert or Eskel here?” He asked, tiptoeing around the subject of Skye's presence for a moment.

“Eskel arrived a week ago, he believes Lambert will arrive at some point.” Vesemir replied, cocking his head at Skye. “Who is this?” He asked, turning his head to Geralt, a stern glint in his eyes.

“She's my Law of Surprise.” Geralt explained, glancing between Skye and Vesemir, like he was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Vesemir's eyes narrowed, expression hard, then sighed. “You must be cold, how about some tea?” He inquired, looking at her for a moment, before turning on his heels and going back inside.

“Was that..” Skye turned her head between the door Vesemir went through and Geralt. “Was that a good thing?”

“He didn't throw us out.” Geralt replied, brows lifted and a faint smile, then followed after his old mentor.

Glancing around and clearing her throat, Skye ran after Geralt, following him inside the all stone and drafty keep. Sticking close to Geralt, they walked down a long hallway into a huge and vaulted room, a fire roaring in a massive fireplace, Vesemir standing near it. Geralt motioned Skye to a table and he approached the other Witcher.

“How did you get yourself tied up with a Child of Surprise?” Vesemir asked, staring into the flames. “A female one at that.”

“I saved her father's life, after he was attacked by several drowned dead.” Geralt replied, flexing his frozen fingers in front of the fire. “He was a soldier for Temeria, on his way home for the first time in ages. He didn't know anything about the girl, when we arrived at his farm.”

“But, there she was.”

“So, you brought her here.”

“What was I supposed to do with her?” Geralt snapped, scowling. “Abandon her? Come here and have you scold my ears off about not taking any payment for doing a job.” He argued, shaking his head. “She can be a pain in the ass.”

“And so can you.” Vesemir pointed out, giving Geralt a knowing and stern expression.

Vesemir had known Geralt since he was seven years old, nearly eight decades. He knew all about the Witcher's antics, from killing monsters to Geralt and Eskel causing all sorts of mischief around Kaer Morhen, along with Lambert. The White Wolf had two very different sides, depending on the company he was keeping at the time. In the freedom of Kaer Morhen, Geralt was more himself, than he was anywhere else in the world, but looking him over, Vesemir could see another change coming over Geralt, a change he could just put his finger on and could see Geralt was struggling to keep down and at bay. He looked over at Skye, sipping the tea he had set on the table for her and studied her, while she was unaware of his gaze, she reminded him a bit like Geralt, when he first came and before the trails effectively changed him into what he was now.

“Payment is payment.” He finally agreed. “Is she staying the full winter?”

“Where I go, she goes.” Geralt told him, bluntly.

“Fair enough.” Vesemir chuckled at him.

“Well, hello there!” A deep and raspy voice echoed, catching everyone's attention. “Who are you?”

“Eskel!” Geralt grinned at his fellow Witcher, who was a brother to him.

“Well, shave my goat!” Eskel let out a barking laugh, striding over to Geralt and grabbing him into a bear-hug. “It's good to see you, Geralt! How've you been?”

“I've been well, and you?” Geralt replied, returning the bear-hug.

“Getting older, but not any older than you look.” Eskel roared, his head thrown back.

Geralt had a huge grin on his face, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Eskel, his body vibrating with an amused laugh. Skye stared at the three Witchers standing together by the fireplace, a smile on all of their faces, a real and fond smile at that, as they caught up with one another, trading jokes, friendly jabs and amusing stories from being on the road the last several months. She was surprised by the change that over took Geralt as he relaxed, the months of dealing with people calling him names, chasing after him and every other unfriendly thing they could throw at him, melted away, like an icicle in spring. A smile came to his face easier, his strong and thick body relaxed and his amber-gold eyes bright and alive. Skye hadn't realized she was smiling back, until Vesemir's eye caught hers and he smirked back at her, making her hide her smile and blush around the lip of her tea cup.

“So, who is she?” Eskel asked, tipping his head towards Skye, without looking at her.

“She's Geralt's Law of Surprise.” Vesemir replied, his eyes moving back to the other Witchers.

Eskel laughed and shook his head. “Geralt of Rivia, with a Child of Surprise.” He took unending amusement from this development. “Did you learn nothing after my business with Deidre?” He asked, smirking at him.

“Skye isn't Deidre.” Geralt growled, offended, and uttered her name for the first time since they met, then glanced at her. “She's different.” He said softly, comfortable in expressing himself to his two old friends.

“She's Human, that's why.” Eskel pointed out, glancing at Skye too. “Deidre was cursed.”

“Well, why don't you show her to a room, Geralt. So, she can settle in.” Vesemir suggested to him. “It'll help her transition smoother, if she feels she has a private space of her own.”

“Especially when she's surrounded by three, maybe four, male Witchers, who's best knowledge of women are whores and witches.” Eskel snorted to himself. “But, she seems sweet enough.”

“She has her moments.” Geralt rasped, feeling a root in the pit of his stomach wiggle deeper into his gut.

“Off you go, then. I'm sure you both want to settle in.” Vesemir said, nudging Geralt a little bit.

“Right.” He nodded and moved towards Skye. “Come on, I'll show you up to a room you can stay in, while we're here.” He told her, watching her finish her tea and stand up.

Geralt guided Skye through the massive and winding halls of the Keep, up several sets of spiral staircases, until he walked down a long hallway and pulled open one of the many doors. Skye stepped inside the room, finding it was as dark and gloomy as the rest of Kaer Morhen. Pure dark stone, a slit of a window, a small fireplace in the corner, crude table, with a single candle stick, and chair opposite of it, a simple dresser and a double, poster bed; there were throw furs on the floor and the bed. The room was cold, after so long in disuse, so Geralt, out of habit, built a fire in the grate to warm the room up for her.

“I'll be just down the hall, if you need anything.” He told her, once the fire was going.

“Okay.” She nodded at him, biting her lip and standing in the middle of the room.

It felt odd, for both of them, that they wouldn't be sharing a room together or be a few feet from each other as they had been, while camping out. They stood there in an awkward silence for a few minutes, before Geralt excused himself and left the room, going down the hall to the room he regularly occupied while he was at Kaer Morhen, it had been his room since his mother abandoned him at the School, all those years before.

A little while later, there was a soft knock on Skye's door and when she opened it, she found Geralt standing there with a wooden bowl of something steamy and a mug of something else.

“I brought you some dinner.” He said, lifting them a little bit higher.

Skye swore, if she leaned in just right and squinted hard enough, there would be a smile on Geralt's face.

“Thank you.” She said softy, carefully taking the bowl and mug from him, turning them back into her room to set them down on the table, then took the spoon Geralt held out to her.

“It's not much, just some venison stew.” Geralt explained to her, biting the inside of his cheek. “Eskel killed one this morning and so he decided to stew it.” He continued, licking his lips. “He's a really good cook.” He babbled, finding himself incapable of stopping.

“I'm sure that he is.” Skye replied, smirking at Geralt, seeing the confused fluster in his eyes.

“Do-” Geralt cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?” He asked, glancing around the room.

Skye had unpacked after Geralt brought her things up from Roach's saddlebags, her bed was neatly made, she kept the fire in the grate he started going, so the room was nice and toasty. It did have a slight homey feel to it that Geralt liked a lot.

“I don't think so.” She answered, biting her lip and glancing around, everything seemed to be in the place she wanted it to be.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me. Good night.” Geralt mumbled, moving back to the door. “Skye.” He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him.

Her mouth dropped open as the door closed behind him, surprised to hear him utter her name. “Good night,...Geralt.” She whispered back, slowly sitting down to eat her dinner.

The next morning, Skye tip-toed around the Keep and checked Kaer Morhen out, getting familiar with the layout of where everything was at; all she needed was to get hopelessly lost. Most of the rooms were empty, used as storage, or locked all together. There was zero interest in going outside, a large blizzard had blown in during the night, dumping tons of fresh snow over the grounds.

“Hello, Skye.” A voice echoed into the hall, drawing her towards an open door.

Peeking inside the strange room, Skye saw Vesemir standing in the middle of the room, a sword in his hand. “Vesemir.” She replied, greeting him politely. “Good morning.”

“To you as well.” He smiled, leaning on his sword. “Wandering around, I suppose.”

“Not much else to do.” She chuckled, stepping closer to him.

“True enough.” He laughed, nodding his head and glanced around the room. “I spent most of my time here.”

“Doing what?” She inquired, tilting her head at him.

Vesemir pressed his lips together, his gray brows drawing down over his eyes as he regarded her. “I used to be the combat trainer for the up and coming Witchers of Kaer Morhen. This is one of the rooms I trained them in.” He explained to her, motioning to the walls of different weapons and the nicked and scarred training dummies pushed into one corner.

“So, you spend hours in here, wielding various weapons, beating on whatever and whoever.” Skye summed up, getting his point.

“Have you ever wielded a sword or weapon?” Vesemir asked, sizing her up.

“I know how to use a scythe, when my mother and I had to bring in the harvest at my family farm.” Skye replied, pressing her lips together. “If that counts for anything.”

“Well, you can kill someone with one of them. So, I'll give you points for that.” He chuckled, smiling at her. “Here,” Vesemir turned, walking up to one of the walls of weapons and took down a short sword, bringing it back to her.

“Try this.” He held it out to her, handle first.

Skye hesitated for a moment, but after an encouraging nod from him, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword. It was heavy in her hand, but not too heavy that she couldn't hold it up and wield it with two hands. She looked at Vesemir and lifted a brow at him, waiting for what was next, and blinked, startled, when he raised his own sword.

“Are we going to fight?” She asked, worried.

“Yes.” He nodded, smirking at her. “I'll be gentle with you.” He promised, gold eyes dancing with amusement. “Hold your sword like this.” He instructed her, showing her how to properly hold it.

“Good, very good.” He praised her, nodding his head.

Vesemir gave Skye play by play instructions, moving back and forward with her, their blades barely touching, as he taught her how to block certain blows, to protect her weak points and push him back. He was surprised to find she seemed very natural with a blade, she was an impressively quick learner as well. It also felt good to have someone other than Geralt, Eskel and Lambert to square off with, though Vesemir was considerably more mindful and held back with Skye, knowing he could easily overtake and harm her, if he wasn't careful.

“That was fun.” Skye smiled, wiping the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt.

“You're a quick learner.” Vesemir complimenting her and nodding his head, impressed. “You'll overtake this poor old man in no time.” He joked, laughing, and dropped down onto a bench against the wall.

“Not a chance.” She laughed back, sitting beside him. “What was Geralt like, when he started training?” She asked, curiously.

Vesemir sighed and rubbed the side of his wrinkled face. “A handful.” He huffed, smiling. “He liked to get into a lot of mischief, him and Eskel, for that matter. They're close in age, and Eskel arrived only a few months before Geralt did, so they bonded that way.” He said, his eyes losing a bit of their focus as he recounted it.

“One of his first lessons, he nearly lopped all his toes off, dropping his sword after I disarmed him.”

Skye laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the stone room. “I can only imagine the anger he must have felt.”

“Actually,” Vesemir frowned, bushy brows knitting together. “It was quite the opposite. He broke out into tears.”

“Geralt?” She frowned back at him, it was hard to picture Geralt crying, for any reason.

“The same.” He nodded at her, meeting her eyes. “It's hard to tell, with the guard and walls, he's put up over the decades. He's had to put them up. But, Geralt is a good man, with an even better heart. If anyone is so lucky to see and touch it.” He told her, softly, with a tone that Skye felt in her own heart.

The vision Skye had of Geralt, formed when they first met and from what her mother had told her about what he had done in Blaviken, slowly started to shift, as Skye got to know Geralt more, as she encountered people that knew the Witcher almost better than Geralt knew himself.

The illusion of the Butcher of Blaviken, was just that, an illusion, that melted away after he told her about what had actually happened. How he had tried his best to stay out of it. But, pressing factors forced his hand, forcing him to make a choice to kill someone that wasn't all that different from himself, seen as a monster and a black spot on the Continent, someone that Geralt had grown to love. It showed Skye that he wasn't entirely the emotionless creature Witchers were made out to be. He showed her that, when he had gone out of his way to give her a birthday present, simply because he knew that's what people did for someone's birthday, because he had been affected by her sadness and wanted to give her something that would cheer her up; unconscionably touching the bracelet on her wrist.

She was starting to realize, as she walked the halls of Kaer Morhen and spoke to Vesemir, that Geralt also understood what it was like to be ripped away from family, to be forced into a situation with strange people, you didn't want to be with, but had no voice in the matter to change it. Geralt wasn't a Butcher, or a monster, or even a mutant, he was a man, changed by the force of others and circumstance. Kaer Morhen had taught him how to be physically strong and how to survive against monsters, then thrust him out into the world, with no safety net, when the human monsters attacked his emotions and tore down his thoughts. Geralt had to teach himself how to build those walls, how to survive those attacks, that his armor and potions couldn't. The result was a man everyone saw as an abomination, so hardened by the years of abuse, it was all he'd ever let anyone see.

Unless, as Vesemir put it, someone was so lucky to see and touch it.

“What are you two doing in here?” Eskel's voice rasped as he appeared in the doorway.

“I was teaching the girl how to wield a sword.” Vesemir replied, looking up at the young Witcher.

Eskel let out a barking laugh. “Do you still have all your fingers and toes?” He asked Skye with a smirk.

“Last I checked.” Skye replied, smirking back at him.

“I like you.” Eskel chuckled, nodding his head at her.

Pretty soon, Skye picked up a routine in Kaer Morhen.

She would get up just after sunrise in the mornings and go down to the kitchens and whip up some breakfast for herself and the three Witchers. She had made them breakfast on her third day there and the boys, namely Eskel, raved about it for the rest of the day. So, she picked up the chore of making them breakfast and dinner, letting them fend for themselves when it came to lunch. After that, she would go up to the training room with Vesemir to do some swordplay and instructions. Where she was getting increasingly better at wielding the weapon, finding her own style, blows and blocks becoming more and more like second nature, and moving quicker, managing to best Vesemir once in a while.

It was one afternoon about a month after she and Geralt arrived, and after her session with Vesemir, that Eskel appeared in the training room and asked Skye, if she would like to take a walk with him around the grounds of Kaer Morhen, seeing that a decent amount of the snow had melted away, making it easier to navigate.

“Sure.” Skye smiled, nodding her head and putting her sword back in its place. “Would you give me a moment to get my cloak?” She asked him.

“Of course, I would loath for you to catch a chill.” He nodded, smiling at her. “I'll meet you by the Keep door.” He said and gave her a low bow.

Skye chuckled at him, shaking her head, then went up to her room and grabbed her cloak, flinging it around her shoulders and clasping it closed, then met Eskel by the main door of the Keep. Smiling at her, Eskel opened the door for her, politely allowing her to step out ahead of him, bowing his head in a gentlemanly gesture.

“How are you liking Kaer Morhen, Skye?” He asked as they started walking around.

“I'm finding it a great deal more comfortable than I thought it would be.” She replied, looking up at the crumbling towers. “I thought for sure, I'd find evil and brain addled monsters.”

Eskel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Well, you have one out of three right, we do tend to be addled.” He joked, spiritedly.

“Vesemir said, you and Geralt would always get into mischief.” Skye pointed out and looked up at him, curiously.

“Gods, yes!” He laughed again, shaking his head at all the antics he and Geralt had gotten into over the years. “You see that tower, over there?” He asked, pointing out a tower that was still mostly standing compared to the others. “We once stole another Witcher, Aubry, from his bed in the middle of the night, took him to the top of the tower, tied a rope around his ankles and dangled him out the window that used to be at the top of it.”

“Oh gods.” Skye laughed, grinning, as she pictured the poor Witcher hanging upside down from the window.

“He woke up and started shouting and curses, waking the entire place.” Eskel explained, still looking so proud of himself. “Geralt and I got our as—butts.” He quickly corrected himself. “kicked for it. It took a week for both of us to sit down again.” He reminisced, fondly. “Geralt and I also captured a giant forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug, when Vesemir found us rolling the grass, in a fit of laughter, he gave us a good row with a leather strap.”

“You two sound like complete trouble makers.” Skye chuckled, imagining Geralt dangling a fellow Witcher out a window, or laughing in the tall grass that covered the grounds of Kaer Morhen, only to get thrashed with a belt, it made her smirk.

“Still are to a fair point.” Eskel replied, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh, Geralt!” He smiled, as Geralt came in through the gate, leading Roach, who was carrying a large buck across her back. “Is that dinner?” He asked, nodding at the large animal.

“It is.” Geralt replied, looking between Skye and Eskel, their faces red and eyes damp from laughing. “What are the pair of you doing out here?” He asked, lifting a brow at them.

“I was giving Skye a tour of the grounds.” Eskel said, smiling at her. “Being you haven't yet.”

“Hm.” Geralt huffed, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest.

“Would you like help with the deer?” Skye asked him.

“No, I can manage.” He replied, shaking his head at her. “I wouldn't want to interrupt your and Eskel's walk.” He said, leading Roach away and back towards the keep.

“He's broody today.” She commented, watching him go.

“No more than usual.” Eskel told her, then turned and showed her the rest of the grounds.

“You're jealous.” Vesemir said, stepping into the kitchen, where Geralt was butchering the buck.

“No, I'm not.” Geralt grunted, glaring at the carcass on the table.

“Oh yes, you are.” the older Witcher chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I've seen how you act when Skye and Eskel are together. Brooding, grumpy and standoffish.” He pointed out to his former pupil.

“Classic jealousy.”

“I'm not jealous of Eskel.” He repeated, angrily skinning the deer.

“Geralt.” Vesemir sighed, lifting a brow at him.

Growling, Geralt forcefully stabbed his bloody knife into the table and turned to Vesemir. “All right, fine. I am jealous of Eskel.” He admitted, begrudgingly. “She laughs at his stupid fucking jokes, she smiles at him, a lot. She hardly ever does those things when it's me.” His angered expression fell with his shoulders.

“She even gave him a hug the other day.” He mumbled under his breath.

“You don't exactly open up to her, like Eskel does, Geralt.” Vesemir was honest with the white-haired Witcher. “You barely utter a word to her, so how is she to laugh at something funny you said, if you never say it to begin with.”

Geralt grumbled at Vesemir, scowling, the closest thing to pouting he'd ever do.

“As for smiling, apparently, you don't look at the girl too often, do you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That girl is, damn near, always smiling at you, Geralt. Especially, when she thinks you, or anyone else, isn't looking at her to see it.” Vesemir confessed, he'd caught Skye smiling at Geralt's back and several times, blatantly to his face, many times over the weeks.

Geralt gulped at Vesemir, had he been so blinded by his own jealousy, that he missed Skye smiling at him. Yes, he had been. Every time Skye laughed at one of Eskel's jokes or smiled at him, when he entered a room, or hugged him for some reason, Geralt would abruptly get up and leave the area. Needing to get away from them, before he ended up putting his fist through Eskel's face, for being so brass with her.

“I know, you're afraid of hurting her, like you hurt that Princess.” Vesemir said, slowly. “But, if you're not careful, Geralt, you'll end up hurting her anyway.” He told him, before leaving Geralt to finish the deer.

Geralt sighed, leaning on his hands against the table the deer laid half butchered on, head hanging and eyes squeezed shut, trying to get a handle on himself, to pull himself together, away from the jealousy and the growing fear that he'd fallen in love with Skye.

“Hey, Geralt!” Eskel called out, seeing Geralt making his way up to his room.

“Eskel?” He replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Have you seen Skye sword fight?” Eskel asked, motioning to the training room Skye and Vesemir were sparring in.

“No.” Geralt shook his head, chewing the inside of his lip, he had heard about Vesemir giving Skye sword lessons and that she was apparently very good at it, but hadn't gone to see for himself.

“Come on, check her out.” Eskel tried coaxing him. “She nearly took Vesemir's head off a second ago.” He laughed, grinning.

Feeling the root of his jealousy wiggle its way deeper, Geralt turned and approached the training room, standing in the doorway with Eskel. Looking into the room, he saw Vesemir and Skye in the center of the room, swords raised and trained on the other as they slowly circled each other, sizing the other up and waiting to see who made the first move towards the other one. He noticed Skye was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a black shirt, the long sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It was her that made the first move, going for Vesemir's unprotected left side, nearly getting the blow in, before he twisted and blocked her blade, rotated his wrist and flicked her sword away from him. Geralt leaned his shoulder against the door frame, crossing his arms over his broad chest and watched Skye move and fight Vesemir, a soft smile on his lips.

Skye and Vesemir sparred for several minutes, before Vesemir was able to break through her blocks and smack the side of her thigh with the flat of his blade. Chuckling, they moved apart and smiled at each other, then looked to the door as Eskel clapped, making Geralt roll his eyes at him, but he smiled at Skye, feeling quiver in his stomach as she smiled back at him.

“I bet I can do a better job than Vesemir.” Eskel suddenly announced.

“I doubt it.” Skye retorted, giving him a smug lift of her brow.

“Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is.” He quipped, moving into the room.

“I don't have any money, but I'm all right taking yours.” She told him with a wink.

“It's so on!” Eskel laughed, picking up a sword off the rack.

Snorting, Skye raised her sword, like she'd been taught all those weeks before and slowly started circling with Eskel, who was making stupid faces at her, trying to distract her and making her laugh, so he could slip her up. Vesemir moved to stand beside Geralt at the door, one eye on Skye and Eskel with the other eye on Geralt, whose body was unusually tense, watching Skye spar back and forth with the other Witcher.

“Upset it isn't you, she's sparring?” He asked Geralt, quietly.

“No.” He rasped back. “I'm worried he'll hurt her.” He confessed, his enhanced eyes watching every move the two made.

Skye suddenly pushed forward and flicked her blade at Eskel's, managing to send his blade clattering across the stone floor, too far out of reach for him to recover it. Vesemir and Geralt smirked, impressed and amused she'd managed it, Eskel didn't seem so happy about it, his temper suddenly spiking. Geralt tensed, seeing it and straightened up.

“No!” He barked, alarmed as Eskel threw out his three fingers for an Aard, in his frustration.

Geralt's eyes were wide with alarm, golden orbs darting between Skye and Eskel, before he rushed towards Skye, trying to reach her before the blast of the Sign could harmed her. Skye gasped and threw up her arms, her wrists crossing, just as the blast of Eskel's Aard reached her. Geralt slid to a stop, mouth dropping open as the shockwave was deflected off of Skye's crossed arms, only pushing her back a little bit, and other than that, she was unharmed. The mouths of all three Witchers were on the floor, when they realized what she had just pulled off.

“She just Signed a Heliotrop!” Eskel snapped, in surprise, his anger forgotten. “How the hell did she just Sign a Heliotrop!?”

“How?” Geralt whispered and looked Skye over, then met her eyes, still shocked and concerned.

“I don't even know, what a Heliotrop is...” Skye replied, looking back at him, startled.

“It's the thing you just did, by crossing your arms.” Eskel said, shaking his head at her.

“It's what I suspected.” Vesemir spoke up, pulling his jaw up off the floor.

“Suspected what?” Geralt snapped, looking over at him.

“She has Elven blood.”

“That's not possible.” Skye shook her head at him. “My mother hates Elves and my father is assuredly not one either.”

“You could be Quarter-Elf.” Vesemir pointed out.

Vesemir had a strange inkling that Skye wasn't completely Human, he just wasn't sure if it was Elven blood or a Mutation. But, after seeing her use a Heliotrop with such ease and effectiveness, especially being she'd never done one before, was aware she could do one or even knew how to do it, told the old Witcher what he needed to know. Only someone with some measure of Elven blood would have been able to pull off what Skye had just done.

“Quarter-Elves, and even some Half-Elves are capable of passing themselves off as normal, everyday Humans. So, you're at least Quarter-Elf.” He explained to her.

Skye looked between the three of them, a tremble making her lithe body vibrate. Tears sprang up in her minty-green eyes and her bottom lip wobbled, before she burst out of the room and blindly ran down the hall, needing to get away, far away.

Geralt turned on Eskel, jaw tight and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, before driving his fist into the other Witcher's stomach, as hard as he could, sending Eskel stumbling backwards into a wall of axes and maces. Eskel took several wheezy breaths, before he was able to speak again.

“Wh-wh-what wa-as th-that for!?” He demanded, arm pressed against his throbbing abdomen.

“For nearly killing her with your Aard!” Geralt hissed, starting towards him again, but was stopped by Vesemir's hand on his chest.

“She blocked it!”

“You didn't know she could block it, and you still fucking did it!” He growled low in his throat, before pushing away from Vesemir and going after her.

Geralt went to her room first, but found it empty, and started searching the rest of the Keep, before venturing outside to the grounds. He searched almost all of the crumbling towers and out buildings before he found her. He stopped in the doorway of the stables, smiling softly as she pet Roach in her stall.

“She's always great company, when you're feeling down.” He said softly, not wishing to startle her. “Especially, since she doesn't tend to talk back.” He added, with a quiet chuckle.

“What do you want?” Skye sniffled, wiping her hot and wet cheek on the shoulder of her shirt.

Geralt sighed softly, pushing off the frame of the door and approached her, gently resting his hand on Roach's nose, smiling at the mare's greeting neigh. “I came to see if you were all right.” He told her, petting Roach.

Taking a deep breath, Skye let it out with a sigh, she didn't know if she was all right. She was confused and scared, and angry. How could she have Elven blood in her, wouldn't she have known by now. Wouldn't her mother have told her that she did. Did her mother even know that she had Elven blood. Was it her mother that had the Elven blood or was it her father that did. She had so many questions.

“I don't understand.” She sniffled, pressing her lips together. “How can you have Elven blood, of any amount, and not know?” She asked and looked up at Geralt, like he had the answer.

Geralt wished he did have the answer for her, but he didn't.

“I don't know.” He replied instead. “With the persecution of Elves after the uprising, people became loath to admit they were the offspring of Elves. Afraid of what it would mean if people did find out.”

“Great, what's that make me?” She huffed, more to herself than Geralt, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks.

Biting his lip, Geralt reached out and rested his hand on her elbow, gently squeezing it. “It makes you, who you've always been, Skye.” He told her, with a soft sincerity. “Just because you have Elven blood, doesn't mean you're something else, other than yourself.”

“Don't let anyone, ever, tell or convince you otherwise.” He added, giving her arm another squeeze and gently pulled her in against him, carefully folding her into his arms.

Skye paused for a moment, surprised by Geralt's words and gesture, but lightly wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead resting against his chest as they embraced. Both of them relaxed, Geralt gently tipping his head down to nose her hair, taking in the light scent of the soap she used to wash it, the pleasing warmth of her body resting against his. Skye took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Geralt's warm body, a faint trace of leather from his armor, the tang of Roach, a sweet, woody and smoky aroma from the burning wood fire in his room, and something else, beneath all of it, that was uniquely Geralt.

She found it alluring and comforting all at the same time.

“I promised to take you home.” Geralt whispered into her hair, not ready to pull away from her just yet. “We'll go back, after the first thaw, and get the answers you want and need.” He promised her, hugging his arms around her a little bit more as he felt her shiver.

“I'd like that.” Skye whispered back, softly, resting her cheek against Geralt's chest and closed her eyes.

“Good.” He smiled, and felt the germinating seed in his belly take a firm hold of him and grow a little bit more, into a delicate sprout. “Come, let's get you back inside, before you get ill.” He told her, slowly releasing her from his arms. “I'll even help you make dinner.” He smirked, slyly.

“That'll be the day.” She chuckled, teasingly.

“Hey, I did kill the buck you're using for dinner tonight.” He replied, lowering his head and lifting a brow at her, teasing her back.

“Oh, yes. I can see it going to your head now.” She rolled her eyes, playfully, at him. “Come along, Geralt, before your head gets any bigger and you can't get it through the doorways.” She called over her shoulder, heading out of the stables and back inside the Keep.

Geralt stood there a moment, smiling after her, and suddenly felt a profound happiness creep into him. He snapped out of it though, when Skye stopped and turned around to him, realizing he wasn't following her. He chuckled to himself and started forward to join her, feeling like nothing could ruin what was starting to really bud between them.

-- Chapter IV --

[wlwsims4]

The Berry Sweet Sapphics Legacy (SIMS 3)

This is for all my yearning sapphics who wanna play a colorful little legacy that is so sacchartine, it rots your teeth. Can also be played as mlm, although, well, look at my URL. The rules will be written with a wlw romance in mind. You need Generations, University, Seasons, Supernatural, World Adventures and Ambitions! Tag with #BSS, or @ me in your intro post so I can eyeball your gameplay! <3

General Rules: - Money cheats are allowed, just don’t overdo it, it tends to rob the fun from the game - Live anywhere, unless otherwise specified - Each generation has one or more traits that I will give you, the rest is up to you. - Your Wife’s career is up to you unless otherwise specified - You don’t have to play berry, you can just have the generational color as a general vibe - Cheating to have same sex pregnancy is ok, as well as adoption! - Roll a 6-sided die each generation to see how many kids you’ll have - You don’t have to max careers, but it’s a nice bonus if you do!

Generation 1: Nerdbians (Mint) “In a world full of people, only some want to fly. Ain’t that crazy?” (Think up Anger - Mutiny) Trait(s): Green Thumb, Genius Career: Scientist Goals: - Meet your wife in Uni, have her be in the Nerd social group - Max Logic, Gardening and Science - Have your wife work as a freelance Inventor once graduated Bonus Goal: - Have your wife build a Simbot and treat them like your own child! That simbot will count toward your offspring roll (+1 if you rolled a 1)

Generation 2: Be gay, do crime (Yellow) “Trust, my love, I’ll keep you safe from the wolves” (Boy Epic - Trust) Trait(s): Kleptomaniac, Rebellious Career: Criminal Goals: - Meet your wife at work! Pretend it’s a fire-forged romance, during a heist or something - Max Charisma and Street Art skills! - Be enemies with a Law Enforcement Sim Bonus Goal: - Befriend a Burglar that tried to rob you!

Generation 3: Happily Ever After (Cotton Candy) “I just wanna tell you that you’re really pretty, girl. I just wanna know if you will let me be your world?” (Hayley Kiyoko - Pretty Girl) Trait(s): Hopeless Romantic Career: Education Goals: - Meet your wife as a teenager and attend prom with her! - Max Charisma and Writing - Adopt a Dog! - If your Offspring roll is 3 or less, add one! Bonus Goal: - Go on a date or family outing to the seasonal festival every weekend!

Generation 4: Puppy Love (Purple) “Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are looking good. You’re everything Big Bad Wolf could want” (Amanda Seyfried - Little Red Riding Hood) Trait(s): Friendly, Daredevil Career: Collecting/Consignment Goals: - Meet your wife during a Full Moon and have her be a Werewolf! - Max Painting and Schulpting! - Adopt two Dogs and max Hunting on one of them! Your Wife needs a hunting buddy - If your Offspring roll is 3 or less, add one! - Pass Lycanthropy to your heir! Bonus Goal: - Max out your Wife’s Werewolf-ism and her Fitness!

Generation 5: You’re Magical (Midnight Blue) “Guide me to your shores, leave my ruins behind, show me the way to light” (Darkseed - Follow me) Trait(s): Animal Lover, Dog Person (haha get it?) Career: Gardener Goals: - Meet your wife at the Alchemy Store, and have her be a witch! - Max Fitness and Handiness! - Adopt a Cat this time! Your Wife needs her witchy familiar! - Have at least one minor pet! - Turn your heir into a witch! - If your offspring roll is 3 or less, regardless of your way of having kids, adopt a little girl in addition! Bonus Goal: - Be BFFs with your Wife’s cat!

Generation 6: Thirsty for Love (Red) “Fluttering lashes, red lips and pearly white teeth” (The Correspondents - Fear & Delight) Trait(s): Charismatic, Great Kisser Career: Alchemist Goals: - Meet your wife at a Club, have her be a Vampire! - Max Alchemy and Nectar Making! - Take your Honeymoon in France, and max out your Visa! - Be the only one your wife feeds from! - Do NOT Turn your heir, but all your spares! Bonus Goal: - Finish the French Relics Collection! Generation 7: You’re my “normal” (light blue) “Lay your head down on my shoulder, human anything but free” (Behind the Scenes - Human) Trait(s): Brooding, Proper, Shy Career: Journalist Goals: - Meet your wife at a park! - Max Fishing and Writing! - Adopt a Horse! It’s time to get ridin’ - Go on a date with your Wife once per week! - Buy a second property and build a cute little cabin there to get away from all the trouble every so often! Bonus Goal: - Have your Wife Max Riding and let her participate in races!

Generation 8: Young Love is sweet as can be (Green) “Follow me down to the river, drink while the water clean” (The Pretty Reckless - Follow me down) Trait(s): Workaholic, Easily Impressed Career: Business Goals: - Meet your wife as a child, and be on max relationship with her until the day you die - Max Cooking and Logic! - Never retire - Visit every destination world at least once. Your job pays well, yo - Make the child that has the most combined skill points once they turn into a teen your heir! - Buy out at least four businesses! Bonus Goal: - Have your wife be self employed, following her dreams while your work your office job Generation 9: My beating Heart (Black & White) “From the Darkness rises a Succubus, from the earthen rust” (Ghost BC - Ghuleh) Trait(s): Supernatural Fan, Bookworm Career: Fortune Teller Goals: - Meet your wife furing a full moon - When she’s a Zombie attacking your house! - Max Charisma and Mixology - Move to Moonlight Falls if you don’t already live there - Buy the Witches’ Brew Elixir fro the Consignment Store as soon as youre able and become a witch! - Have your wife be bitten/Turned into a Zombie each full moon. It’s her “time of the month”, I guess Bonus Goal: - Max your Witch skill and raise an undead arms, spearheaded by your wife!

Generation 10: Out of the Dark (Orange) “You know how it is, when you’re just waiting on that bad, bad moon to rise” (Hollywood Undead - Bad Moon) Trait(s): Brave, Active Career: Ghost Hunter Goals: - Meet your wife on the job, after saving her from a spooky invasion! - Max Guitar and Photography! - Max out your Visa for Egypt, time to beat up some Mummies! - Move out of Moonlight Falls once you become an Adult (Not YA!) - Don’t befriend any Supernaturals, you’ve had enough of that in your childhood Bonus Goal: - Cure one of each Supernatural Type and/or cure every Zombie you encounter during full moons!

[cappurrccino]

easily the most ambitious fanmix i’ve made so far and i’m thrilled it’s at a point i’m satisfied with!

full track and verse list under the cut!

Verse 1:0 - 1:1 // osmium kids; adventures; the king’s desperate search for answers

1. Mo Tze // Alan Silvestri 2. How Far I’ll Go // Chase Holfelder 3. Moons of Jupiter - Retro-Mix // Freezepop

Verse 1:2 // taox’s betrayal

4. Hunt You Down (ft. Ruby Friedman) // The Hit House

Verse 1:3 - 1:6 // siblings at sea; games and comfort; sathona’s deceptions and sathona’s truths

5. Your Bones // Of Monsters and Men 6. Black // Kari Kimmel 7. Black Water // Of Monsters and Men

Verse 1:7 // the dive

8. Frozen Thunder // Hampus Naeselius

Verse 1:8 // leviathan’s lament

9. Sorrow // Lisa Gerrard

Verse 1:9 - 2:0 // worm god encounter and worm god bargain

10. Mind Game Part 2 // Steve Jablonsky 11. Into the Deep // Eurielle

Verse 2:1 - 2:4 // you’ll have to kill them all and take their stuff

12. Antihero // Corey Martin

Verse 2:5 // unacceptable failure of resolve

13. Emperor of the Sun - Bonus Track // Arcana

Verse 2:6 - 2:7 // murdered for mercy

14. Iron // Woodkid

Verse 2:8 - 2:9 // the leviathan rises; the worms feast

15. Sound of War // Tommee Profitt, ft. Fleurie

Verse 3:0 // the hive

16. Empire // Alpines

Verse 3:1 - 3:3 // 20,000 years of murder tag; lessons in defense

17. Look Away // Larkin Poe 18. Baby Outlaw // Elle King 19. Rusting Hulks // Ben Prunty

Verse 3:4 // the scream

20. Run // Hampus Naeselius

Verse 3:5 // dakaua and taox

21. Undone // Tommee Profitt, ft. Fleurie

Verse 3:6 - 3:8 // battle for the ecumene; king of shapes

22. Viper // Darius Moldovan

Verse 3:9 // resurrection; carved in ruin

23. Monsters // Tommee Profitt, ft. Xeah

Verse 4:0 - 4:1 // taking the taishibeth; calling the deep

24. Nice to Meet Me (instrumental) // Zack Hemsey

Verse 4:2 // it is what i am

25. Dark Matter // Les Friction

Verse 4:3 // oryx’s nightmares

26. Control // Halsey

Verse 4:4 // self reflection; desire for children

27. Thousand Eyes // Of Monsters and Men

Verse 4:5 // xivu loves oryx more than anything

28. Partners in Crime // Christoffer Moe Ditlevsen

Verse 4:6 - 4:7 // sons and daughters to love and kill

29. Rocks and Water // Deb Talan

Verse 4:8 // clever daughters and a gullible son

30. Devil’s Playground // The Rigs

Verse 4:9 - 4:10 // the vex clattered around, constructing large problems; come home glorious or die forgotten

31. Sentenced to Death // Colossal Trailer Music

Verse 4:11 // building the dreadnaught

32. I am Shell I am Bone // Gazelle Twin 33. Desert Hideout // Christoffer Moe Ditlevsen

Verse 5:0 // simulate me, wretch

34. Me and Mine // The Brothers Bright

Verse 5:1 // child, i have everything you wanted

35. Crossing Over // Lawless

Verse 5:2 // at the bottom of the universe, looking up

36. Ghost Lights // Woodkid

Verse 5:3 - 5:4 // destruction of harmony and the feast of the gift mast

37. Dark Conscience - Instrumental // Tommee Profitt 38. When Worlds Collide // Hampus Naeselius

Verse 5:5 // the hive challenge the universe

39. No Mercy // UNSECRET

Verse 5:6 - 5:8 // introspective oryx

40. Just Beneath the Flames // Digital Daggers

Verse 5:9 // i’ll make sure

41. This is the End // RAIGN