#sideways? for some reason? i do not remember the conte

[everykillerbee]

[andreadesantis3806]

A lil continuation to this wonderful prompt by @ariesdiary

I WANNA CONT. THIS T_T (Full credits to @ariesdiary for the wonderful idea) Would've directly reblogged it but for some reason my tumblr is showing error whenever i try to reblogT_T. Pls refer to the linked post to makes sense of whats goin on.

Alicent finally decides to walk up to the boy who maimed her son, the boy she hated for the unfairness of it all, the boy who now is reduced to nothing more than a ghost; drifting from one place to another in the Keep, the boy holding no smiles for any other but his darling sweet new born babe, just like her when she would hold Helaena and find warmth in her sweet girl when the Keep seemed so...cold and merciless.

She found Lucerys exactly as she would have expected, sitting on a plush armchair by the window overlooking the Blackwater bay and its dark enchanting waves. His dark brown hair fell around his eyes as he cradled his little boy close, humming something Alicent vaguely recognized as some song in High Valyrian. The babe was born prematurely, as the midwives had later told The Queen, was weak and pale for the first few days after his birth before slowly improving and being as healthy as a kicking goat.

She remembered coming to see the child, her king-husband's deathly weak form buzzing with joy over his great-grandson. She remembered Lucerys' exhausted face. She remembered her son Aemond walk up to his husband and son. She remembered the hopeful glint in Lucerys' eye which evaporated as soon as Aemond did nothing but spare a few pats and a light kiss on the babe's head before moving away to let his mother approach.

He did not even ask to hold him.

Remembering all that and relating so much, Alicent stopped by the doorway to Luke's room and her nails ripped skin as she decided that Lucerys was not the first person she had to talk to.

-

She found her son in the training yard, engaged in a duel with one of the Cargyll twins. Something hot coiled her insides; anger. Aemond was dueling while his husband turned into a living-dead with each passing moment.

''Aemond.''

White hair whipped around as her son turned towards her voice. He panted with exhaustion and remaining adrenaline as he frowned.

''Mother?''

''Come with me.''

She turned to walk away, living no room for refusal.

''What is it Mother?'' He asked, having followed her into a hallway. The sweat was wiped away, the doublet replaced with usual wear.

Alicent pursed her lips, ''Do you not wish to see your son? How he is fairing? How Lucerys is fairing?''

Aemond flinched at the name. Looking away towards the window. The sunlight made it hard for her to fully gauge his reaction. She had seen him done the same whenever his husband would be saying something.

''Does not matter what i want.''

Alicent drew a breath, praying to The Crone for patience.

''And why would you think so?''

Aemond still did not meet her eye, '''He would not appreciate it.''

''And why do you think so?''

Aemond's flinch was barely noticeable, ''He has made it quite clear how unhappy he is within my presence.''

Alicent grabbed her son's shoulders to have him face her fully before swinging her hand swiftly, slapping him hard.

Aemond's face was thrown sideways, the uninjured side of his face turning white to red rapidly. He turned to face his mother; violet eye wide.

''Mother-''

''You foolish, foolish boy! You have lost but one of your eyes yet how an you still be so blind?!''

''Mother- i do not--''

Alicent slapped him again. This too was on the unharmed side of his face. She was not cruel.

''How could you not understand what is happening? Lucerys has done nothing but kind to you since the day your betrothal was announced yet you condemned him! You still continue to condemn him even after you marriage and the birth of you son!''

Aemond clenched his jaw, ''He has shown from the moment we took our vows his unhappiness towards the union, towards me as his husband! How can I face him knowing to see nothing but unhappiness on his fac-''

Alicent's palm met his face again.

She was livid, panting hard and eyes wild with fury. It turns out Aemond despite being intelligent and unparalleled in almost everything, he inherited his foolishness in matters regarding family from his father, and his cowardice to face the truth forefront from Alicent herself.

''If only you took the time to notice--to understand, to just look at your husband for more than a moment long than you would have understood that your claims just the opposite.''

Aemond frowned at her.

''Lucerys looked unhappy during your wedding because he faced your indifference towards him, and processed the fact that you will forever hold nothing but hate towards him, that you will never be able to love him or respect him like a spouse should! And all along you did nothing but feed his assumptions with your attitude towards him. Did you ever see, Aemond? What he has been reduced to? That bright boy now nothing but a shadow of what he used to be; trapped forever in a marriage with someone who will never forgive him, never love him...never love their child.''

''I do not hate our chil--''

''Dont you? Mayhaps you don't....but have you not treated him the exact way your father has treated you? Treated Lucerys like how Viserys treated me all this time?''

Aemond's face blanked out completely, going paler than his natural tone.

Alicent stepped closer to him, eyes finally softening. Her hands grasped his bigger ones roughened by swordfighting. When he met her eyes, they were distant and....sad. 'Sad' was the least complicated word to put what it was.

''My boy....do you truly want history to repeat?''

'''What if you are wrong? What if he truly does not want me....or if he did....does it still remain? After all i did?''

He looked suddenly like the boy who cried in her lap when his dragon egg refused to hatch.

''Do you forgive him?''

His silence was enough answer.

''Do you love him?''

Again his silence spoke more than words ever could.

She smiled at him, ''Then go and show him.''

-

Aemond's footsteps felt heavier and soundless as he walked up to his husband's chambers. They had separate ones, long distances away from each others'.

His face still stung from the slaps from his mother but he was glad.

If she and he were still wrong, then he still take it in stride. But his mother was right, he couldn't live knowing the truth.

It was evening now, the hallways darker and alight with fire torches. He clutched the thing in his hands tighter, faint warmth bringing him comfort.

He knocked twice, hesitant.

Few moments passed and he was sure Luke was not inside, before-

''Come in.''

The voice was light and heavy at the same time, tone of it still not failing to bring an aching relief in his chest.

He pushed the door open gently, a part of him wanting to run away. He still stepped inside the room, which was warmly lit with the hue of the fireplace.

Lucerys stood in front of it, a blue shawl hugging his form. Aemond's breath hitched as he took in the sight. His husband's moonlight pale face glowed in light of the fire in front of him. He had always been beautiful. But as the memory of his mother's angry voice sunk in, he saw how Luke truly was. Haunting and ghostly....just there, but not really.

Luke turned to see him and froze, eyes widening briefly. Aemond gulped, his toes inside his boots curling.

''Aemond...''

He tilted his head, trying to understand why he suddenly was here....when he never was.

''I....''

''Do you..require anything?''

Aemond's heart ached at the voice. Finally realising what he had done to the one he loved.

''I just....wanted..'' Why was it so hard? ''Just wanted to see you...''

Lucerys blinked. He blinked again until a unsynchronized series of blinks ruptured his beautiful doe eyes, eyelashes fluttering. The previous guardedness he had shown when Aemond stepped inside his room vanished to form a mix of surprising and questioning. As if he would never expect such a thing. As if--

Luke's eyes went guarded again.

''Are we required to sire another child?''

Aemond blinked and sputtered, single eye widening, ''NO! no-i-'' He struggled to form words over the sudden sting and guilt in his heart that his husband had learned to expect nothing but that from him. ''No i just....i...well--i brought something...''

Luke frowned in question and realization that it was not what he thought and a little smudge of guilt.

''Oh..i am sorry..''

''You have nothing to apologize for.''

''You are acting quite bemusing today, husband.''

Aemond pursed his lips before he brought out his other hand which was behind his back, holding on to what he had brought.

Lucerys' eyes widened and lips parted in a gasp as he took in what it was.

A dragon egg.

A shade of teal which graduated to a dark indigo.

''For...our son....'' Aemond muttered, before walking forward with shaking legs towards his husband. He stopped when he was close enough just to see the freckles dotting luke's pale skin. Luke's eyes still stared at the egg with a hint of wonder.

Aemond was suddenly unsure of what he did. But he did not know where to start from....he wanted to build what he had broken down, carefully and cautiously. It would take time as the things which are broken down the fastest, takes the longest to repair. But he will wait, forever if he must.

''Its beautiful, Aemond...'' Lucerys whispered, making Aemond let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He slowly turned and walked towards the cot which was placed at the corner of the room.

He felt Luke follow.

Once he reached, the sleeping face of their son met him, something warm trickling through his insides. He was perfect. He had Aemond's pale hair but unlike his straight ones, the child's was curly like Luke's. He knew his eyes too were the same shade as his, so was the chin that was like his own as well as King Viserys' and Rhaenyra's. The nose, cheeks, the shape of his eyes however were all Lucerys. He was perfect. He only held his son twice since his birth, and he longed for more but was hesitant as to how Luke would take it. But since he was violently proven wrong this morning, the hesitation was gone. Of course he wanted to hold the child close, but for now he did not wish to disturb his rest.

He gently placed the egg on the sheets inside, beside the child and sighed. He felt Luke's warm presence beside him. He wished to wrap his arms around him, but held back. Later....he had to rebuilt everything first....

''It will hatch, rest assured...'' He begun. ''I had the Dragon Keepers made sure that there was a pulse beat inside....it won't be like...''

It won't be like mine.

''I know..''

Aemond turned towards the voice, finding Luke to be already staring at him.

There was a glimmer of something in his eyes he had last seen when Luke had just given birth and saw him approach. The one which faded after he had turned away from them.

Now they burned, only just a tiny flame, but still there nevertheless.

Aemond will do everything to make sure it never flickered.

YEP LITTLE OL' ME WHO CAN'T REST WITHOUT A HOPEFUL ENDING. I should be studying Chemistry wtf. But here it is, thanks to the lovely @ariesdiary for kicking my writer's block out of the solar system. Hope yall and @ariesdiary likes it <3

[contemplativepancakes]

Following the Thread Transcript

AKA all the "canon" there is of Aiden. Google doc to save for easy reference is here. Providing this is entirely selfish of me, please use it and write some lambden <3

EXT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

GERALT approaches a GUARD standing outside of a door.

GUARD: Don’t like folk wandering around here.

GERALT: Oh yeah? Well, got a beast you need someone to get rid of? I’m here about the notice.

GUARD: Ah, supervisor Lund posted it. Yeah, a beast haunts the outskirts, murdering folk. Got ‘em scared to leave their homes after dark.

GERALT: I’d like to talk to this supervisor.

GUARD: Too bad he don’t receive petitioners.

GERALT: So what’s he do, exactly?

GUARD: Delivery relief on behalf of the city council—flour and groats for the paupers. Meaning, he don’t do it personally. He’s got men for that. He, himself, he, uh. (GESTURES BROADLY)

GERALT: Supervises.

GUARD: Exactly!

GERALT: I aim to hunt down this monster.

GUARD: Best hurry, then. Some other bloke’s already after it.

GERALT: Who took the contract?

GUARD: Didn’t see the man. Was just told some brave fool’d turned up.

GERALT: When’d you find the last victim?

GUARD: Just last night. Hubert, a beggar, but a decent man. I’d let him sleep in the shed from time to time—that one, on the right. Eustace hasn’t come for the corpse yet. It’s lying in there, where I found it.

GERALT: Any eyewitnesses to these attacks?

GUARD: No, just the bodies. Beast appears only at night, chooses isolated victims.

GERALT: Thanks. So long.

Geralt goes to the shed and examines it, finding a puddle of blood that’s not human, and Hubert’s body, which is drained of blood. There’s ekimmara tracks in the shed that Geralt follows along the river’s edge, until they disappear at a dock. Geralt swims across the river and finds the tracks again, leading him to another building. Geralt notes that’s there’s rat corpses outside that have been drained of blood.

INT. DARK HOUSE

There’s the sounds of combat upstairs, blade clashing, an ekimmara screeching, and a whoosh from aard. Geralt rushes up the stairs to see LAMBERT fighting the monster. They kill it together.

GERALT: Greetings, Lambert.

LAMBERT: Damn, it’s good to see you, Wolf.

GERALT: Decide to do some hunting in Novigrad? Far as I remember, you never liked this city.

LAMBERT: Still don’t. Thing is, got a certain matter to take care of.

GERALT: What have you been up to? Any luck on the path?

LAMBERT: A lot, in fact. Quite the takings in Lan Exeter. Was asked to hunt down a giant, who turned out to be a forest troll and some bandits.

GERALT: Bandits?

LAMBERT: (SHRUGS) Came as a package with the troll.

GERALT: The matter you mentioned, anything I can help with?

LAMBERT: Hmm. Maybe. But we’ll talk about that later. Got our reward to collect. I’m kinda in a hurry. Let’s say you’ve earned half, what the hell.

EXT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

Geralt and Lambert approach the guard from earlier.

GUARD: So?

LAMBERT: What do you think? We did what we had to do. Time to pay up.

GUARD: Wait here, I’ll go see the supervisor, get your reward.

LAMBERT: Do that ourselves. No reason you should leave your post.

Geralt gives Lambert a sideways glance.

GUARD: Hmm, can’t argue with that logic. Go on in.

EXT SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING, COURTYARD

Lambert and Geralt approach SUPERVISOR LUND in an outdoor space. There’s three guards milling around.

LAMBERT: We dealt with the monster at the docks. Here for our reward.

LUND: Witchers? Since when do you travel in pairs?

LAMBERT: Lots of dangers for a lone witcher. Bandits, for example.

LUND: I’d advise you to change your tone.

LAMBERT: Where’s Jad Karadin? Talk!

GERALT: Who?

LAMBERT: Trust me, Geralt. This is important. There’s something I gotta know.

LUND: I do not know any Karadin. Take your coin for the before and bugger off before I lose my temper!

LAMBERT: (YELLING) Where’s Jad Karadin? Asking you for the last time!

LUND: Guards, to the dungeon with them!

Lund runs out of the courtyard, and Lambert chases after him, leaving Geralt to fight the three guards.

INT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

Geralt walks inside to find Lund cowering from Lambert.

LAMBERT: This guy’s more trouble than the ekimmara.

LUND: Karadin’s disappeared. I swear! The others, too! I only know of Vienne.

LAMBERT: What about Vienne?

LUND: She drinks at the Seven Cats. There day and night.

LAMBERT: See? You can be helpful.

Lambert unsheathes his sword and stabs Lund in the gut while Geralt watches. Lund collapses to the floor. Lambert turns to look at Geralt in challenge.

GERALT: That was murder. Was that really necessary?

LAMBERT: Yes.

Geralt shakes his head.

LAMBERT (cont.): More guardsmen’ll show soon. Let’s go. Meet me at the Seven Cats. Tell you everything there.

GERALT: The tavern Vienne frequents?

LAMBERT: Yeah. See you later.

EXT. SEVEN CATS INN

Lambert is leaning against a rock when Geralt approaches him.

GERALT: All right. High time you explained some things. Why’d you kill Lund? What’s this all about?

LAMBERT: Want the short version or the long one?

GERALT: Lemme hear the whole thing.

LAMBERT: Had a friend. Aiden was his name.

GERALT: You? Had a friend?

LAMBERT: Oh, hi-fuckin’-larious. I met him soon after I'd accepted a contract to lift the curse from the Ogre of Ellander. Aiden had been hired to kill it. He was a witcher from the school of the cat.

GERALT: Far as I remember, the ogre was killed in the end.

LAMBERT: Yeah, after it gutted my employer, we really didn’t have a choice. I cut a deal with Aiden. We joined forces, split the reward for killing the ogre between us. After that, we worked together a lot. Hands down the best man I’d ever met. I mean, I like you, you know that. Still, no comparison.

GERALT: What happened to him?

LAMBERT: Some time ago, Aiden took on a contract to lift a curse off a duke’s daughter. It was a political mess from the start. Then there was the hatred for the school of the cat to deal with.

GERALT: They worked hard to deserve that hate. Basically hired assassins.

LAMBERT: (SNAPS) Aiden wasn’t like that. (PAUSES, LOOKS AWAY) Anyway, some of the duke’s courtier’s had designs. Weren’t all keen on the curse being lifted from the duke’s first born. So, a band of trained assassins ambushed Aiden, murdered him. Our dear supervisor was one of them.

GERALT: And Jad Karadin?

LAMBERT: The assassins’ leader. And the one to deal the mortal blow.

GERALT: Sorry about your friend.

LAMBERT: Don’t need your sympathy, just your help. (PUSHES OFF ROCK HE WAS LEANING ON TO STRAIGHTEN) We have to talk to Vienne. Must’ve had enough to drink by now. Let’s go.

INT. SEVEN CATS INN

Geralt and Lambert approach VIENNE, a lithe elvish woman wearing a deep cut purple blouse with her dark hair in a braid. She has a drinking glass in front of her where she sits alone at a table.

GERALT: Vienne?

VIENNE: What do you want?

LAMBERT: We wanna see Jad Karadin.

VIENNE: (LAUGHS) Now why would I help you?

GERALT: It’s really important to my friend here.

VIENNE: And what will I get out of it?

LAMBERT: Pay for your beer, for starters. Then we’ll see how valuable your information is.

VIENNE: (CONSIDERS, TAKES DRINK) I was part of Karadin’s band, but… When was that? I don’t know where to find him; I’ve fallen out with the lot.

Geralt sits at her table.

VIENNE (cont.): Besides, he’s no longer chummy with his old mates. Word around town is he’s changed.

Lambert sits down, also, now.

GERALT: Karadin’s changed? What do you mean?

VIENNE: He’s dropped all his old connections, stopped taking on petty killings. He’s hidden himself away in some hole. Must be planning something big.

GERALT: Who else was in Karadin’s band?

VIENNE: Aside from me? Selyse, Hammond, and Lund. But they’ve scattered all over the world. Selyse went to Tretogor, Hammond to Skellige, and Lund—

LAMBERT: Lund’s dead.

VIENNE: (CACKLES) Finally met his match. Well, you’ve only Hammond or Selyse to talk to, then.

GERALT: What about you? What’s your story?

VIENNE: Scoia'tael was decimated, so I joined Karadin. They never treated me as an equal. No. I could hit a sparrow from a hundred paces, but I was never good enough for Karadin. He always preferred that cunt Selyse…

LAMBERT: You have a hand in the murder of the witcher Aiden?

VIENNE: Perhaps. I don’t remember.

GERALT: We need information about Hammond.

VIENNE: Karadin’s right hand man, once. When the band broke up, he went back to Faroe whence he had come. He’s a pirate, now. Even the jarls treat him with respect.

GERALT: This Selyse, where can we find her?

VIENNE: She’s done well for herself. Runs a brothel in tretogor, the kind rich men frequent. Whores suck information out of them, then she sells it.

LAMBERT: Name of this brothel?

VIENNE: The Black Lily. Selyse always did have horrible taste.

GERALT: (TO LAMBERT) Satisfied?

Geralt and Lambert both stand.

LAMBERT: She doesn’t know anything. We need to talk to Hammond and Selyse.

VIENNE: Don’t go looking for Karadin. If he senses you nipping at his heels, he’ll kill you without batting an eye.

LAMBERT: We’ll see. As for you…

OPTION ONE

GERALT: No, Lambert.

LAMBERT: Right, better to leave her like this.

VIENNE: What about my coin?

Geralt and Lambert exit the inn.

VIENNE (cont.): Arseholes.

OPTION TWO

GERALT: Do whatever you think is right, Lambert. Not here to preach morals.

VIENNE: (LAUGHS) “Do what you think is right?” Only one thing worse than cold blooded murder—hypocrisy. Informers, racists, snitches!

VAREN: Vienne, bloody hell. What is it?

VIENNE: They’ve come for me, Varen! I told you someone would, sooner or later!

VAREN: (IN ELDER) Don’t be afraid.

GERALT: Shit.

A fight breaks out in the inn and ends with Vienne dead.

EXT. SEVEN CATS INN—NIGHT

LAMBERT: You’ve gotta help me, Geralt. Best thing will be to split up. You sail to Skellige, try to squeeze something out of Hammond. I’ll go to Tretegor and try to get something out of Selyse.

GERALT: Lambert, let’s talk about this.

LAMBERT: Let’s not. This is one of those situations, serious situations, where you don’t ask unnecessary questions and just help your friend.

GERALT: Where’ll we meet once I’m back?

LAMBERT: At the Nowhere Inn.

GERALT: All right, I’m off. Good luck.

They both nod to each other, and the scene fades to black as Lambert walks away.

EXT. PIRATE’S SETTLEMENT, SKELLIGE

Geralt approaches two men standing guard outside of the settlement he’d been pointed to in order to find Hammond.

GUARD: Whaddya want?

GERALT: I’m looking for Hammond.

GUARD: What for?

GERALT: Business.

GUARD: He prays at the chapel on the hill this time of day. If it’s slaves you’re looking to buy, you’ll have to wait ‘til he’s done.

GERALT: He’s praying? Wouldn’t have thought him a god fearing man.

GUARD: Hmm. Yet it’s not something that would surprise any man who knows him.

GUARD TWO: Another snoop! You know the drill!

A fight breaks out with all of the pirates. After Geralt defeats them, he travels across the island.

EXT. HAMMOND’S SHRINE

Geralt walks into the shrine, and it’s an outdoor space with wide, curved beams driven into the ground that create a circle. Hammond is in the middle of the area in front of a pile of weaponry and shields. Hammond is shirtless and wearing a green tartan kilt with a wide leather belt. His hair is in a ponytail, and a leather strap encircles his left bicep. There’s a brown arm guard on the same arm, and there’s a gold band wrapped around his right bicep. There’s a large war hammer strapped to his back.

HAMMOND: Gods of the sea, I’ve never begrudge ye no gifts. Grant me another victory, so I can make an offering of me loot. (STANDS AND NOTICES GERALT) Fuck, what now?

GERALT: Heard you were in Karadin’s band.

HAMMOND: Fuckin’ say what you want. C’mon, spit it out, you arse lickin’ bastard!

GERALT: I’m looking for Jad Karadin.

HAMMOND: And just who the hell’re you?

GERALT: A friend of a friend. I’m looking for Karasin, thought maybe we could make some sort of deal.

HAMMOND: What, our business rubbing some Novigrad pricks the wrong way? Ploughin’ guild! (TO HIS GUARDS) Come on, what are you waiting for? Kill the fucker!

A fight breaks out and Geralt kills Hammond and his three guards. After, Geralt searches Hammond’s body and retrieves a letter on elegant stationary.

Hammond,

Thought I made it clear during our last face to face talk. I don’t want to keep in touch and I especially don’t want to do any business with you. I’ve no doubt the enterprise you proposed would be profitable. Nevertheless, to speak colloquially, count me out.

There are plenty of other potential buyers in Novigrad: goldsmiths, jewelers, and merchants dealing in luxury goods, for starters.

I don’t want to get involved.

Whatever you decide, I will wish you well in it. Treat this letter as our final farewell.

Karadin

INT. NOWHERE INN

Geralt approaches Lambert. Lambert is sitting at a table scattered with gwent cards and with a tankard in front of him.

LAMBERT: What the hell took you?

GERALT: Pretty likely Karadin lives in Novigrad. And he never severed ties with Hammond. They’re actually in business together.

LAMBERT: Mm. Learned something, too. He trades in, uh, live goods on the sly. Owns a ship called the Pearl of the Coast. Runs between here and Skellige. Changed his name, too, to Roland Treugger, who officially is a respected Novigrad trader and philanthropist. Has a residence in Gildorf.

GERALT: Anything on Selyse?

LAMBERT: Hmm. Well, didn’t have you there to stand up for her.

GERALT: All right, let’s pay Karadin a visit.

EXT. KARADIN’S HOUSE

Lambert and Geralt stand in a stone alleyway, looking at several guards.

LAMBERT: Think I know how to get in. Got a plan.

GERALT: If your plan doesn’t include dealing with an escort of guardsmen, best revise it.

The guards approach Lambert and Geralt.

GERALT (cont.): Calm, now. Let them start it.

GUARD: You’re expected. Come in.

Lambert and Geralt share a glance, and the scene fades to black.

EXT. KARADIN’S BACKYARD

There’s a child in a blue smock, who points at Lambert and Geralt and runs to Karadin. Karadin has yellow slitted eyes, dressed nicely, and there’s a sword at his hip.

KARADIN: Make yourselves at home.

GERALT: (TO LAMBERT) He’s a witcher.

KARADIN: Very true. Let me introduce my wife, Laetitia, and my two little tots. (GESTURES TO A WOMAN AND TWO CHILDREN SITTING IN THE GRASS) You know who I am, and I’ve heard of you. You’ve been asking questions about me. That always draws my attention.

GERALT: What school’d you come out of?

KARADIN: That of the cat. So few of us left.

Lambert sneers.

GERALT: Witchers can’t have children.

KARADIN: But they can have wards. Or take in a woman along with her children, embrace them as their own.

GERALT: I could understand a witcher becoming a hired assassin, but a merchant?

KARADIN: Why ever not? Not one among us doesn’t dream of changing our life. I simply did not stop at dreaming. They say no witcher has ever died in his bed. I aim to be the first.

LAMBERT: Remains to be seen.

GERALT: My friend needs to talk to you.

KARADIN: (TO GUARDS) Lads, take the children and Laetitia and leave us. Our guests wish to speak with me.

His family leaves.

KARADIN (cont.): I’m all ears.

LAMBERT: Talk to him, Geralt. If I do, first word he says to me, I’ll lose it and throttle the fucker.

GERALT: Nice place you got.

KARADIN: As it turned out, I’ve a flair for enterprise. Now I’ve coin enough to provide my family with the finer things in life.

LAMBERT: With some left over for philanthropy.

KARADIN: Miss Marabella’s institute does not scorn small donations. Neither does the city's Widow and Orphan Relief Fund, amongst others.

GERALT: Your wife know who you were?

KARADIN: We are thoroughly honest with each other, harbor no secrets. She prays for me each day. You know what? I think it’s working.

LAMBERT: Fucking hell.

GERALT: Relax, Lambert.

KARADIN: I confessed all just before we pledged to marry one another. Began a new life that day, with a clean slate.

GERALT: Remember Aiden? A witcher. Murdered in Ellander. Guessing the killers were paid well.

KARADIN: I remember him as I remember all the others—with the deepest regret. Yet Aiden was different, in a way. Contrary to rumor, we did not set out to kill him. We were forcced to, when he attacked us.

GERALT: What’s your version of this story?

KARADIN: Aiden had accepted a contract to lift a curse from the duke’s daughter. He took the coin, bungled the job, then left once the girl passed on.

LAMBERT: You lie!

KARADIN: We were not to kill him. We were debt collectors. He’d spent the coin already, so we demanded his swords. When he refused, tempers flared. Vienne, positioned as sniper, lost her nerve, hit Aiden square in the eye.

Lambert looks down. Geralt glances over at him.

KARADIN (cont.): Later, she devised her own version of the story. To silence her guilt, I expect.

GERALT: I’ve heard enough.

KARADIN: What now?

OPTION ONE

GERALT: You’ve changed. You have.

KARADIN: Forgiveness. It’s my sole aim now.

LAMBERT: You’re buying this bullshit? Bastard’s lying his ass off!

OPTION TWO

GERALT: You know what, Karadin? Your remorse—it’s feigned. Completely dishonest. You put on a good show, but I just don’t believe you.

LAMBERT: Don’t even know why we bothered with this chat. We came here to kill you.

OPTION THREE

GERALT: Maybe you’ve changed, maybe not. To me and Lambert, it doesn’t matter.

LAMBERT: You killed Aiden. Fuck your new life. I don’t believe in giving second chances.

OPTION ONE

GERALT: Do what you want, Lambert. Your friend, your vengeance.

LAMBERT: Been waiting a long time for this.

KARADIN: (UNSHEATHES SWORD) And I don’t aim to die.

A fight breaks out, ending in Karadin dead.

LAMBERT: Thanks for your help, Geralt.

GERALT: You’re welcome.

LAMBERT: Wanna talk about it?

GERALT: No.

LAMBERT: See you later. Some day.

GERALT: So long, Lambert.

OPTION TWO

GERALT: Leave him. Let’s go.

LAMBERT: What? Are you fuckin’ nuts?

GERALT: Lambert, this is one of those situations where you have to realize you’re pissed as hell, rein it in, and trust your cool headed friend. Let’s go.

LAMBERT: For fuck’s sake, Geralt. Don’t know that I’ll be able to forgive you.

GERALT: I said let’s go. You can always come back.

Lambert storms off.

KARADIN: Thank you.

Geralt sighs and walks away.

EXT. KARADIN’S HOUSE

LAMBERT: Explain yourself.

GERALT: Don’t intend to. Just felt Karadin didn’t deserve to be murdered in cold blood. If you feel otherwise, you can always go back. Without me.

LAMBERT: I feel like beating the shit out of you. See you later. Some day.

GERALT: So long, Lambert.

[nosleepuntilvacation]

Hi! I've got another Mettaton×reader request for you, if you don't mind. The setting is that Mettaton gets badly damaged, and of course his crush is worried sick. They insist on helping Alphys with the repairs, even if it's small things like handing her the right tool or something. The repairs take a week or two, and the crush just camps over at Alphys' lab the whole time. But anyway! The scenario I want you to actually write is when Mettaton is finally rebooted and wakes up. (cont.)

(cont.) So when Mettaton comes to, his crush is sitting next to whatever table/bed/thing he’s laying on. They go “Thank god!” and probably tear up a bit, smiling like a fool. Mettaton is like, touched that they’ve waited for him like that. When he asks about it, the crush gets all flustered. Mettaton ofc teases them, and as the conversation/banter goes on they accidentally mention at some point that they helped Alphys with the repairs… Que more flustering and eventually (cont. IM SORRY)

(cont.) eventually they end up telling him how much he means to them. In their nervousness, they get a bit rambly and end up confessing their romantic feelings to him. Then they hang their head and don’t look up again until Mettaton tells that he feels the same. Then they’re both awkward and happy and they smooch and stuff. // Sorry if this long, 3-ask explanation is unclear and sorry this is so dramatic. Thank you for considering this.             

…this has been sitting in my inbox for over a year hasn’t it

dishonor on me, dishonor on my miltank, etc. etc. etc.

But I guess it’s better late than never…?

Below the cut: A Storm Leads to a Rainbow

(TW: Discussions and descriptions of a car accident, and the emotional and physical injuries resulting from it; brief mention of alcohol)

Two synthetic eyes open, and their owner groans, clutching his forehead. “Ugh… what happened?”

He looks in his immediate line of sight. The space-printed sheets on the bed he currently occupies, the posters displaying different franchises he likes (his own included), the star-shaped stickers on the ceiling… yep, this is definitely his guest room in Alphys’ place.

“But why–?” He reaches down and touches his hip. Just as he suspected, his charging cable is plugged securely into there. He barely has enough time to register this before he hears a familiar voice.

“Mettaton? Thank god!”

He sits up and looks over towards the source of the voice…

…and he promptly sees you sitting in one of his pink beanbag chairs, smiling like a weight had just been lifted away. And was he seeing things, or were those tears in your eyes?

“[Y/N]? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart.” He smirks a bit. “Have you appointed yourself the president of my fan club? I’ll have you know that you’re competing with me for that position.”

“Heh…” To you, the sound of his voice is exactly what you need right now. You pull out your phone and open your text message program. “Just gonna let Alphys know you’re awake. She’s off jogging with Papyrus.”

After a few chuckles at his own joke, his smile soon becomes more genuine. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.”

“Of course.” You put your phone away after sending a message, and your smile becomes a little more sad as you try to ward off the rock forming in your throat. “When I heard about what had happened to you, I was so worried, and I couldn’t just…” You take a few deep breaths to keep the dam from bursting.

At this point, he can’t help but frown. “If you don’t mind me asking… what did happen to me, anyway? The last thing I remember was Bryan and I driving home, and before I knew it, our car tipped sideways. My whole body was in pain, I heard Bryan calling Alphys… and then I blacked out.” His hand clenches the mattress. “Is Bryan okay, by the way?”

“Yes. He had to visit the ER, but he wasn’t hurt too badly, and they let him go home after a few days. Anyway…”

After swallowing your nerves, you begin to explain the full story.

A little over a week ago, you had been visiting Alphys and Undyne and watching a movie with them. At one point in the movie, Alphys received a panicked phone call from Bryan, an orange mammal monster who seemed to be Mettaton’s frenemy of sorts. The two had been driving together to their respective homes after a production at the local theater when a drunk driver veered into their lane and crashed into Bryan’s car. When Alphys headed out to help, the scene indeed looked grisly, with roadside assistance having to help put the car upright again - and it was clear that at least half of the car would need repairs. Paramedics were helping Bryan into an ambulance…

“…and when she brought you back, I almost couldn’t look.” You shudder. “You looked like something chewed you up and spit you back out again!”

With a sneer, Mettaton folds his arms. “Oh, come on. I don’t taste that bad! Ask anyone who’s ever had one of my world-famous face steaks!” He taps his chin in thought. “Although, maybe I shouldn’t have made them so expensive at first…”

You chuckle nervously; at the time, you definitely wouldn’t have laughed if someone had made that joke, but now that Mettaton’s awake, the whole thing feels a little easier to put in the past.

“Honestly, though…” His expression softens into concern. “…my body looked that bad when Alphys brought me in?” He holds his hands in front of his face and wiggles his fingers, before peeking under the blankets and presumably checking his feet in a similar way. Next, he grabs a handheld mirror from the nightstand and studies his face, brushing his hair out of one of his eyes.

“Yeah…” You wipe away a few tears forming near your eyes. “If Alphys and I hadn’t fixed you up right away…” A shudder takes over your spine; you’re still not entirely sure how all the intricacies of his body work, and this was one situation where experimenting was not an option.

For a moment, Mettaton is silent…

…only to give you an odd look.

“Wait a minute… you helped Alphys with the repairs?”

“Uh–! Well!” Oh god, does he already know what you think of him? “She did most of the big work! I was just there to help hold you still, or to get her the right tools, or to keep an eye on you to make sure you were still stable while she was out getting more supplies and stuff. Undyne helped, too, when she wasn’t at work. Alphys and I took turns watching over you the first couple of nights, while you were still in somewhat critical condition…”

Mettaton blinks. “You even stayed over?”

“Y-yeah… I haven’t actually been home since I heard about the crash.”

By now, you can feel the floodgates open, tears rolling down your face as you explain yourself.

“I wanted to help Alphys as much as I could… I was so scared. You could have died if we hadn’t done enough in time, and if I hadn’t helped and you ended up dying… I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself if that happened. Especially because you’re my friend, and, well…”

Despite the more reasonable side of your mind not feeling ready to say it, your emotions are in full force right now, and you just blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t know when it started, but I really wanted to tell you I love you.”

And with that, you lower your head and finally allow yourself to let out some quiet sobs as the many emotions of the past several days swamp over you: relief from knowing that Mettaton is most likely okay now, fear and sadness from the fact that he probably wouldn’t have made it if Alphys hadn’t gotten there in time, and that hard-to-describe sensation of knowing that, in the heat of the moment, you just confessed your romantic feelings towards your longtime crush. Your body and mind are just frozen like a slow computer as you try to quell this maelstrom of emotions.

It gets to the point where you can barely register it as Mettaton whispers your name and gently takes hold of your hand.

“Shh… everything’s going to be okay, darling. It was horrifying, and I was scared, too… but I feel so much better now.” A smooth thumb strokes the top of your hand as he continues. “In fact… as of late, I’ve realized that I’m in love with you, too.”

“R-really…?” You finally look up; despite your likely looking like an emotional wreck right now, Mettaton doesn’t seem to judge you for it, instead smiling.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to tell you for a little while; you’ve been such a wonderful friend to me. And knowing that you would go this far to help save my life… honestly, I’d do the same for you.”

A cheerful laugh escapes your throat; you’re not sure what to say, but you still manage a “Thank you…”

“And thank you, beautiful.”

For a few moments, neither of you are sure of what else to say amidst the glow of relief and new love, but eventually, Mettaton has a thought.

“Darling, when all of this has blown over a little more… would you, perhaps, like to go on a date with me? I can show you a few of my favorite places in town, and you can show me your favorites, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” There are still a few tears, but they come from a much happier place now. It’ll probably take a little while for everyone’s fears to disappear completely, but what’s important is that everyone is safe right now, and a potential tragedy has been averted.

Before you know it, you wrap your arms around Mettaton in a big hug, which he soon returns in kind before leaning in close to your face. He stops himself and looks into your eyes as if asking for permission, and when you smile and nod, he presses his lips to yours. It’s not the smoothest of kisses, but most first kisses typically aren’t.

Either way, you’re definitely not complaining.

You’re so lost in the kiss that you don’t hear the sound of the front door opening and closing in the other room, nor do you hear the sound of footsteps. Shortly afterwards, though, a small eep does get your attention.

The two of you break off the kiss and look towards the doorway, where Alphys is standing, still in her jogging outfit, with wide eyes.

“Oh! Uh… am I interrupting something?”

As you wave hello to Alphys, Mettaton gently smiles. “Alphys, darling, I’m so glad to see you. And don’t worry; I think everything’s going to be just fine.”

Alphys returns the smile. “Yeah… I’m so glad you’re awake. I’ll probably want to keep an eye on you for the next day or two, though. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“That’s all right. As long as I have everyone cheering for me, I can absolutely manage this!”

You gently squeeze his hand, and he smiles at you.

After a second or two, Alphys pulls out her phone. “So, uh, want to order some pizza or something? I can shower while we wait for it to get here.”

Mettaton rests a hand on his soul casing. “Darling, I haven’t eaten in days, so that sounds absolutely perfect right now.”

“That sounds good to me too,” you say with a nod.

“Great! Let me open the app…”

As you all begin to figure out what you want, you can already picture the delicious taste of the food in your mind. Not only that, you can also picture some of the exciting, lovely things in your and Mettaton’s future… a future that you helped to secure for him.

Sometimes, even a harsh rainstorm can leave behind a beautiful rainbow.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 20 Part 2/Epilogue

Holy crap, it’s done ;___;

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 20, cont.

Sunday, the first day of the rest of their lives

An angel waited on a bench in St James’s Park.

He had brought bread for the ducks, but hadn’t moved to feed them yet. He sat straight as a ruler, one leg jiggling with nervous tension.

Then he saw his companion strolling towards him, and his face broke into a beaming smile.

Crowley dropped onto the bench beside Aziraphale. He handed over an ice cream.

They sat in contented silence. Crowley sprawled out over the bench like a Dali clock. It was a miracle he stayed upright. Possibly literally. Aziraphale sat still, politely, but the satisfaction poured from him like a purring cat.

Crowley winched in his splayed legs a bit out of courtesy. “So. Heard from your side?”

Aziraphale's smile was a little wicked. “Not in the last twenty-four hours. You?”

Crowley grinned. “I’ve been encouraged to make myself scarce.”

Their eyes met. For no real reason, they started to laugh. For a long time, they couldn’t stop.

“I’m supposed to be in Heaven, officially,” Aziraphale managed eventually. He wiped his eyes. “But no-one stopped me leaving.”

“That’s becoming a pattern with you.”

“Yes, quite. It’s chaos Up There at the moment. Everyone’s running around trying to figure out why they’re no longer running around. It’s like there’s a big burnt patch in Time. Everyone knows the Apocalypse was supposed to happen, and no-one has any idea what went wrong. Gabriel and Michael are furious.” Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “They’re terribly angry with me. But they can’t remember why.”

Crowley snorted. “Brilliant. Leave them guessing.”

“I assume something similar is going on Downstairs?”

“You guessed it.” Crowley’s spine, impossibly, unwound a little further. “Beelzebub’s spitting nails. Hastur’s actually a bit more cheerful than the last time I saw them. I don’t think they warmed to Warlock as much as Adam.”

Aziraphale’s smile faded a little. “Ah, yes. That’s the other thing, of course. Two sets of memories?”

“Yeah. They overlap a lot, it’s hard to figure out what really happened. Well… they both really happened, but. You know what I mean.”

They sobered up a bit. Aziraphale chewed his lip.

“I really hope they leave those poor boys alone.”

“I reckon Adam can sort them out if they try anything.”

“He shouldn’t still have his powers, surely?”

“I don’t think those powers came from his gem. I think it was more, sort of… you know.”

Aziraphale gave him a sideways look. “Ineffable?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that.”

Aziraphale gave it some thought.

“In a way, then, that would mean his powers came from Her.”

Crowley opened his mouth. Then closed it.

“Honestly, that one’s beyond my pay-grade,” he said, bracingly.

“Oh, come on. Asking questions is what you do.”

“All right. Here’s a question for you. How long do you reckon until we get called in to explain ourselves?”

The happiness in Aziraphale’s face dropped away. “Ah,” he sighed. “This is a temporary reprieve, isn’t it?”

“My people certainly aren’t ones to let bygones be bygones. Let’s face it, nor are yours.”

“Yes, my eyes have been opened on that score.” Aziraphale peered around. “I hope they’re not spying on us right now.”

Crowley frowned. He was used to paranoia. It was logical for a demon. It was worrying to see in Aziraphale.

“For all we know, agents from both our offices could be lurking, ready to bash us over the head and drag us back for a talking-to.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I think it’ll be a bit stronger than a talking-to. Michael tried to melt your face off, remember?”

Aziraphale shuddered. “I can’t believe I ever thought they were merciful.” He reached over and caught Crowley’s hand. “And I can’t bear the thought of Hell getting their hands on you again. We have to get rid of them once and for all.”

Crowley melted a little behind his sunglasses. This was their first casual display of affection in a public place. He let Aziraphale stroke absently over his knuckles.

“Maybe…”

He sat in thought. He’d spent so many years waiting for something he thought he would never get. And so many years in a state of fear, pushed deep down, that any happiness he ever felt would be snuffed out by forces beyond his power or ability to predict. He realised he was not willing to spend another second waiting for the axe to drop.

“Maybe we should take the initiative,” he said.

~*~

The offices of Heaven and Hell were as they always had been: a twenty-first century skyscraper. Aziraphale and Crowley entered through the revolving doors and crossed the lobby, hand in hand.

They stood before the escalators, one going up, one down. They waited.

Crowley coughed.

“We’re not doing this twice. You’d both better come up-slash-down and see what we want.”

There was an outraged silence.

A bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of them. It crackled with immense rage. When it dissipated, the Archangel Gabriel stood on the scorched patch, breathing like an angry, but very fashionable bull.

The air grew thick with buzzing. The floor next to Gabriel bubbled and blackened. Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, rose through the tiles, eyes set with menace.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, barely restraining their obvious desire to smite. Beelzebub’s flies buzzed in a dangerous swarm above zir head. Aziraphale and Crowley faced them calmly.

Gabriel spoke through his teeth. It had never looked less like a smile.

“What is the meaning of this, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other.

With one defiant glance, they launched into the terrifying mishmash dance extravaganza known as the Disco Gavotte.

Their audience had already concluded this was the most offensive thing they’d ever seen, when angel and demon sashayed-slash-pranced up to each other and -

“WHAT THE SZZZZZZHIT,” Beelzebub bellowed.

The blinding light faded. Zadkiel grinned and waved.

“Hi, guys.”

Gabriel clutched his chest and Beelzebub’s shoulder. His face turned puce.

“I knew it, Aziraphale. I knew you had something to do with the - with the - with the!”

“What is thizzz abomination, Crowley?” Beelzebub snarled.

Zadkiel yawned.

“Sorry, don’t have much time. I’ve got a lunch reservation. Shall we run through this quickly?”

He leaned forward. It delighted him to note he was taller than Gabriel.

“Here’s a summary. I am immune to hellfire and holy water. I can freeze time. I discorporated an Archangel - say hi to Michael for me, by the way, I wasn’t even a fusion when I did that - and… what else? I can make this fancy shield.”

His ring glowed, and his shield appeared. Not as impressive as the rest, perhaps, but it was very shiny. He used it to shine a light in Gabriel’s eyes a few times, just to be annoying.

“That’s it for starters, but you get the picture! I’m very scary. So, if I ever see you, or any of your minions, you will be sorry. I’m retiring, and as long as you stay away, I’m happy never to darken your doors again. You don’t want to have to fight me, and you definitely don’t want the other angels and demons to figure out they can fuse. Might prompt all kinds of thorny theological debates. Not to mention, they might unionise.”

He straightened up.

“That’s all. It’s been lovely working with you both. Ciao!”

He sauntered out of the building, a free man.

~*~

Epilogue

The future

It was a beautiful day in the garden.

A sunbeam poured through the branches of the apple tree and picked out a shape on the ground. It was black, curving, serpentine. It looked like a two-dimensional scribble that had somehow come to exist in three-dimensional space. It lay beside a lawnmower, still plugged in. An angel in shirtsleeves paced, fretfully, above it.

The sigil on the ground glowed as if reflecting the sun. It floated into the air and threw out a brilliant light, making a noise like a laser beam powering up.

A formless ball of light appeared, then refined itself into a human shape like dough rising. The spindly limbs took on definition, forming fingers and feet. Features popped out of the smooth oval face, all looking slightly cross. Shoulder-length hair unspooled in loose waves, then changed its mind and swept into a spiky updo. The clothes, when they appeared, were still black, but a shade more casual than some more recent efforts.

Crowley’s snakeskin shoes touched down on the grass.[1] He opened his golden eyes, snapped his fingers, and a pair of sunglasses dropped from the firmament onto his nose.

“Bloody lawnmower!” he growled.

Aziraphale gave him a look. It was less an I-told-you-so and more of a what-can-you-do sort of look.

Crowley rubbed his forehead as if expecting there to be a mark.

“I dread to ask -” Aziraphale began.

“Went over a rock with the spinning blades and it spun right round and beaned me in the head.”[2]

Crowley had discorporated as much from surprise as anything else. He looked down at himself to check he had come out looking impeccable. Sleeveless black t-shirt, and a return of a chain necklace he’d quite enjoyed in the nineties. Good choices.

With a bit more apprehension, he checked out his right arm. Golden liquid light still seeped out through cracks in his skin. The arm was still pale and shrivelled, and it still twinged when it rained, or when he was in a mood. But these days he felt as though he noticed it less and less. Morphing a glove over it was more for the benefit of the neighbours than something he needed to do to feel safe.

Aziraphale caught Crowley’s hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it.

“Welcome back, my dear.”

Crowley grinned. “Glad the place hasn’t gone to pieces while I was out.”

“It was a very fraught few hours. Did your people give you any trouble?”

“Nope, in and out. The imp on the front desk didn’t even make eye contact with me when I was filling out the forms.”

“Well. You are a very terrifying and impressive demon.”

Aziraphale lifted onto his tiptoes and kissed Crowley under the apple tree. The breeze stirred around them lazily, carrying warmth and sweetness.

“With unerring bad luck,” Aziraphale added against Crowley’s mouth.

“Doesn’t seem that bad to me,” Crowley said. His head was swimming a little.

“Changeable, then.”

Aziraphale landed back on his heels. His smile was still sweet and a little coy. Oh. It was definitely time to go inside.

“Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Crowley hissed, stepping into the angel’s space.

Aziraphale beamed and pulled him by the hand towards the cottage door.

It was time to leave the garden. But all the wonders of the world lay beyond it, and there, they had learned, was the greatest happiness on Earth.

THE END

---

[1] They were probably shoes.

[2] The leading cause of gardening-related death, it astonished Aziraphale to discover. The number of cosy British murder mysteries he had consumed over the years had led him to assume assault by secateurs would be number one.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

In Person Livestream

In Person Livestream Fandom: AoT/SnK Pairing: YumiKuri Summary: Modern AU in which Ymir is a member of a Games Grumps-esque channel invited to a con as a guest. She has little knowledge about the other guests but still ends up taking interest in one after a chance meeting. AN: Part of my Spooky Snippets story dump. For more details please see this post.

She still isn’t sure how Connie and Sasha coaxed her in to this. A part of her wants to say that it’s most likely because she needed a weekend out of town. After all, they’re about two hundred miles out and they aren’t having to spending a dime for it! That’s mostly thanks to Jean and Marco, though, but that’s another aspect of it.

Internet fame was never something that Ymir was ever actively seeking – given she had better things to do with her time – but it had fallen in to her lap by complete accident. Marco and Jean had started a shared account together on some video site where they basically just played video games, got angry and talked about their days; or, more correctly, Jean would flip his shit while Marco proceeded to instigate more freak-outs from him, document it all and then post the shit-show for all to enjoy. Originally it was just the two of them playing, but as their popularity grew, fans started asking about the frequent friends mentioned in their stories; specifically, Connie, Sasha and Ymir herself being the most common culprits. As such, they created an additional segment where they would have a combination of any of the five of them – usually no more than three but there had been a handful of times where four of them were available – would get together to play video games and just play off of one another.

Ymir still wasn’t one hundred percent sure on where her popularity came from, especially when compared to her friends. Sasha was ditzy and easily excitable, making her more prone to bouts of innocent and genuine confusion when she made mistakes on the games. She was also kinda gullible, making her easy to troll with false information, and the comedy with that simply wrote itself. Connie was smart but he also tended to be a bit of an arrogant dick. He was typically the guilty one when it came to trolling Sasha and he would laugh all the while. Jean was similar to Connie, what with being a know-it-all and a braggart, but he had the added perk of a short fuse. It took a lot to get Connie genuinely angry – the worst he’d gotten being some serious frustration – but Jean would lost his damn his mind once he got started. It was mostly the authenticity of his rage paired with the completely stupid shit he’d spew in his fits. Marco, meanwhile, was likeable because of how he presented himself. He was naturally charismatic but he played it up for the show – being even more of a saint than usual – but underneath it all he was actually a total sadist. He played well with Jean because he knew just the littlest, most innocuous ways to take Jean’s rage from a fireplace to a wildfire spanning an entire nature conservation. Ymir, however, was just the one that typically stayed lax and just made shitty, 13 year old level sex jokes.

Regardless of her being relatively baffled by the situation, she figured it was nice to have people enjoy her immature snark.

It was this reason that she was here, out of her element, at some anime convention with Sasha and Connie. The invitation had been extended to their whole crew but Marco and Jean were already going to be out of town for their three-year anniversary. All-expenses paid in exchange for them attending the convention, doing some autograph sessions, and doing a couple Q&A sessions with their friends? Now that was a perk Ymir could get behind.

Or, rather, that was what she’d thought until she saw some guy who looked like he should be in a retirement home walk in to the hotel in a school girl uniform.

“So,” She trails, leaning against the side of Connie’s car as he pops the trunk, “what exactly have I signed up for here?”

He looks at her with a quirked eyebrow before following her gaze and snorting. “Oh, don’t worry; that’s another one of the guests, actually,” He says before reaching in and pulling one of the bags out and setting it down.

Her scowls deepens at that. “Uh, what?”

“He’s another one of the guests. I can’t remember his name right now but he does cross play videos,” He says with a casual shrug.

Sasha suddenly appears around the corner of the car with a bright grin. “That’s Sty-Dis! He’s super cool!” Sasha gushes excitedly, before hearing her name. She turns around and squeals before darting off toward a woman with black hair in a red scarf, waving and cheering.

“Right… And how many other guests like him are going to be here?” Ymir asks Connie suspiciously, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

“Just him. They try to have a variety of guests from the big, popular types of videos. There’s Sty-Dis, Ask Ackerman, Leonhardt Roars, Titanic Sound Waves, and some other cool people too. Sasha and me have gotten to know a lot of them personally so it’s always a blast getting to hand out with them,” He comments with a grin, turning to watch Sasha and the other girl as he closes the trunk.

Ymir hums before turning and pointing to the hotel. “Well, anyway, I’m gonna head in and get my key for the room if you don’t need me out here,”

“Sure thing. We should be up in a bit!” He calls after her before taking he and Sasha’s luggage and heading to join her.

Ymir heads inside and nearly runs back out at the small cluster of people gathered around. They all have badges on them labeled “Volunteer” and “Guest” respectively – more of them being “Volunteers”, she notes – and they all seem so friendly with one another. She feels a bit uneasy as she approaches the front desk, explaining her situation to the clerk. The girl smiles at her warmly and hands her a key card in a little slip, the room number on the front, then informs her to head directly through the crowd to get her Guest pass.

Her trek through the crowd is mercifully brief, but she swears she’s going to need some therapy after this; the old guy’s skirt rides up as she passes to reveal lacy pink panties.

There are two volunteers settled at the desk, with another of the guests standing and chatting with them. The female volunteer is the one that spots Ymir and waves her over. “Hi-ya! How are you doing?” She asks happily.

“Hi. And fine, thanks,” Ymir answers, looking back over her shoulder when she hears someone shouting about losing a game or something. Almost everyone else in the crowd howls in agony at the response and she’s left completely baffled.

The volunteer giggles at her bemusement. “Pretty energetic, huh?”

“That’s certainly one word for it. Haven’t had to deal with this much energy and potent body odor since my 8th grade promotion,” She quips dryly. The other guest suddenly gasps, causing Ymir to look over at her sideways. “What? Not like that one?”

“You’re Ymir, aren’t you?” She asks.

“How do you know that?” She realizes the minute the question leaves her mouth that it is probably a dumb one. While Ymir herself isn’t big on watching other people’s videos – Hell, she doesn’t even really watch the videos she participates in – she knows for a fact from her friends that a lot of them watch each other. It wouldn’t be too surprising for someone to recognize her from the videos; or, she realizes, it would make sense if it wasn’t for the fact she’s never shown her face in any of the videos.

The girl giggles – a cute giggle that seems to fit a tiny blonde thing like her – and rubs at the back of her head shyly. “Ah, sorry. That’s the perfect pitch talking for me!”

“Perfect pitch? Is that, like, your stage handle or something?” Ymir asks, completely lost.

“Oh, no,” Blondie answers with another giggle, “perfect pitch is a musical term. It means that my ears are naturally turned so that I can pick up on when a note is being played in the exact right octave or not. It also means I can pick up on people’s voices pretty well too.”

“Oh, that’s kinda cool,”

“Hm. It has its uses,” She agrees. The volunteer offers Ymir her own guest badge – decked out with a nifty little picture of two robots fighting – and Ymir let’s Blondie lead her away from the booth. “I’m admittedly surprised to see you here. Jean makes it sound like you don’t really have any interest in this sort of stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I do the show because they asked me to and I’m here because it sounded like a good excuse to get out of town for the weekend,” Ymir says with a shrug, letting Blondie lead her around. She should head up and get her luggage put away at least, but then again she’s kind of enjoying talking to the bubbly blonde.

Blondie being cute just happens to be a nice perk of it all.

“Well, you certainly picked a good time to attend a convention; this is one of the bigger cons, so there’s going to be plenty of con-goers to meet and greet,” She beams.

“So long as they don’t invade my space too much, I should be fine,” She says with a small shrug. She sees the elevators up ahead and realizes that Blondie seemed to have had the same thought that she did. “What exactly goes on at one of these, anyway? I mean, I know Sasha mentioned we’d be doing a Q and A session and an autograph session, but what else is there to these things?”

“Well, there are plenty of other panels that go on, too,” Blondie says, hitting the up button as they reach the elevator. She lets Ymir slip in with her luggage first before joining her inside. “A lot of the other guests are doing panels too, but other than them, there are other fun panels too. There’s cosplay gatherings for photo shoots with other people wearing cosplays from the same series as you, dance training where you learn to do some of the little dances from different anime, and the AMV contest is always pretty cool to see. There’s also hentai screenings, bad fan-fiction readings, jeopardy-style games where they pick other con-guests as the contestants, and there’s always the vendor hall to peruse if you just want to buy some cool stuff. The Artist Alley is great too; lots of really talented artists with great quality prints and additional little things!”

Ymir hums in response, hitting the button for the fifteenth floor. Blondie reaches over and hits the sixteen, shrugging and saying, “I need to go make sure my roommates are done getting settled. We have the opening dinner to attend and I don’t want us to be late.”

“Oh, I didn’t know about that. Do we have to make small talk about things no one really cares about?” Ymir asks with a small scowl.

Blondie giggles a bit. “No, it’s mostly just going over the rules and regulations, as well as finalizing the schedule for the panels with everyone. Typically pretty short, sweet, to the point, and done over some pretty good food,” She hums. They fall in to casual chatter for the remained of the brief ride up to Ymir’s floor, the brunette howling in laughter as Blondie retell some funny stories from a past convention that involved Jean, a chicken and cheese quesadilla and a con guest dressed up as Naruto Uzamaki. As Ymir gets off, Blondie waves and comments that she’ll keep an eye out for Ymir at the dinner that evening.

Ymir waves back, watching the door close before it dawns on her that she never asked the other her name. Sure, it wasn’t like she was never going to see her again, but she still would have liked to know her name and her account. Maybe do a little researching, see if pursuing this girl would be worth it or not. Her phone buzzes in her pocket suddenly, a text from Connie lighting up her phone.  A slow smile turns up on her lips. She had almost forgotten she was travelling with two of her dedicated cohorts, whom seemed to know a lot of the other guests here.

She texts him back, already looking forward to asking them if they recognize Blondie and, if they do, picking their brains.

[submissiveagression]

Cont.

Him: No go ahead

Me: Do you still live in that apartment

Him: Nope lol

Me: You laughing and I’m not

So you’re saying she’s lying

Let me rephrase do you still live with her

Him: Before I go further, how is it you can ask me questions and I'm obligated to answer but you tell me I don't have the right to ask you shit

Me: Because I’ve been completely open with you since day one

Him: That's the reason 😒

Me: Yes

Him: Control

Me: Do you still live with her

Him: Sometimes but I've told you that shit too....Ive been open

So why are you asking questions

Me: Because i want the truth but forget it

What’s your question

Him: Do you paint a picture that's only one way

Me: That’s how it looks yes

Him: Ok

Ask

Me: No it doesn’t matter anymore

Him: Why

Me: Because I’m never going to have the truth

The truth will never be out there

And it’s always going to be that perfect image of you and her

Him: What fucking perfect image....

Me: The one y’all running around painting

The only time anything remotely close to the truth would come out is it we had a press conference or conversation on video

Him: Here's a rebuttal to what you're saying....the picture you paint of me is....the picture you paint of yourself is.....when it come to you and I

Me: That’s not a rebuttal that’s asking for abs explanation

Him: Yes it is

Me: The picture you painted to me was you and I

The picture everyone else paints to of you is you and her

The picture painted to the public is you and her

Him: No you're so wrong about what we paint because I don't put shit up and my family knows what's going on

The picture you paint is I aint shit and never have been shit

The picture to my friends/family else is they either don't care or don't like how you are when it comes to shit

The picture painted to the public is I'm evil and conniving and you're perfect. You've always been perfect

Me: Yes they see a negative picture from me but if I were to paint a positive one they would look at me like I’m fucking stupid because they don’t know was going on

If I painted a positive picture they look at me like oh she still messing with a married man this that and the third so it would still be a negative picture on me

Him: So your way is to make it look like I'm shit and you perfect like I said

Me: No I’m not justifying it I’m just saying

Let’s be completely honest here the image that I painted of you is wrong OK we got that

You know me I like to post picture and talk about my happiness that what I was doing before I found you were married

Him: If I were to do that about all the shit you've done people would look at you sideways like your friends amd family do me

I didn't know that because you were on twitter

Me: Now after having The baby if I were to post pictures of you and make post and tag you about the fun we have I would be looked stupid Your wife would be all in my inbox And you would untag yourself

And I will be looking like some delusional ass hoe

That’s why there was never a positive image painted of you because I couldn’t. And your people would still look at stupid and not like me

Him: My people don't care dor you because of what you do and vice versa with yours

Me: I know that

But even if I didn’t do that and I put a positive image and tagged you in post about the good things we did they still wouldn’t like me because they got this perfect image of you and Your wife not you and me

Him: No they don't stop saying that shit

Me: And you wouldn’t claim the positive shit out there because it would show that either

A) you and Your wife are not together

B) that your cheating on her

And god forbid the information gets out into the public

Yes they do and I won’t stop saying it

Him: I had a fucking baby.....where is perfect at please tell me. You're wrong again and according to you there were no good times remember

Me: There were plenty good times and had just as much ain’t shit times

You had a baby

Hid a relationship

You kept a relationship going saying you were getting a divorce