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ro-is-struggling · 1 year ago

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The Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice || Geralt of Rivia x nymph!reader

REQUESTED

Summary: Life was good when Geralt was by her side. They were in love and happy... Until they weren't and she was left alone once again. After spending so much time under his protection, she had forgotten how dangerous the world was for creatures like her. Sad and heartbroken, she was unable to defend herself when the men came for her. Now locked up far away from her forest, she only hoped that her loved protector would come to her rescue.

Warnings: angst (with happy ending), major character death, reader gets imprisoned by a evil dude (I don't know how to tag this lol but I think it’s important to mention that she’s forced to serve him), fluff (it’s not all sad, I promise), forest nymph!reader, fem!reader, let me know if I missed anything!

English is not my first language

Word count: 12.700 (it's a long one)

Notes: A few things to have in mind while reading: It follows the timeline very loosely, and Geralt and Yen's relationship never got to that solid point in s3 cause it's not real love, just the product of Geralt binding their fates together with that wish

She never imagined that her story would end like this, locked in a cold and humid dungeon far away from her forest. Nymphs were not immortal beings —something she had come close to verifying several times in her long years on the continent—, so the idea of her inevitable end was something that she had thought about from time to time. It was not something that haunted her obsessively, but every once in a while her mind would wander to the imagining of the end of her days.

She lived a quiet life, making sure to be cautious around any unwanted people who passed through her forest. She had no enemies, at least not ones powerful enough to present a real danger to her. So she always imagined that she would die a peaceful death, slowly fading away as her birth tree withered away after having completed its cycle on this earth. If not, she imagined she would die a heroic death as she fought the greedy humans to prevent the destruction of her forest. Both scenarios brought her a sense of comfort in a way, because they showed that she had fulfilled her life's mission, the purpose for which she had been placed on the continent.

She never imagined that the end of her days would actually be so dark and torturous, forced to live in captivity away from her home and everything she loved. She never thought she would miss the feel of the wind on her face, or the warmth of the early morning sun, or the sweet scent of flowers in the spring. She had never imagined herself living anywhere but her forest, but that was an option that had been taken away from her the moment King Elian's men set foot in her home.

She had heard rumors of his infamous reputation from the mouths of other frightened nymphs. His name inspired terror among magical creatures, who chose to call him The Hunter as if the mere mention of his name was a sign of bad omens. He was known for his obsession with magical creatures and what he did with them after capturing them. Despite what his nickname implied, he did not always chase a magical creature to kill it and display some part of its body as a hunting trophy. No. There was a fate far more horrible and obscure than that, and that was to end up as a piece of his collection, just another exhibit, forced to smile in his presence and perform for his entertainment whenever he wanted it. It was the terrible fate that had unfortunately fallen upon her.

In the past she had not seen King Elian as a threat. His kingdom was on the other side of the continent and while he used to go on hunting trips when he heard rumors of a creature in his vicinity, he had never ventured this far before. Besides, she was under the protection of one of the continent's fiercest witchers, so she knew no one would dare mess with her. No one who knew Geralt of Rivia would dare to challenge him, and the poor bastards who, out of ignorance or arrogance did, usually didn't live to tell the tale. The bond they had was strong, a love unlike any she had ever experienced in her many years of life, so she never thought there would be a day when she would wake up without him by her side.

"The king requires your presence." A guard announced from her cell door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She rose to her feet reluctantly, stepping up to the bars so he could put the handcuffs on her before unlocking her cell. The dimeritium on her wrists was engraved with the same symbols as the bars of the box in which she spent her days. It was a powerful incantation that weakened her magic so that she could not use her powers to escape. It was painful since the metal burned her skin, but she had learned the hard way not to complain.

The guard led her to the throne room, where the king was shouting directions to the group of servants working on decorating the place, changing the curtains and adding chairs and tables to the sides of the room. She had been there long enough to know that the castle was being prepared for a feast, though she did not know what the celebratory occasion was.

She forced herself to bow when the king's eyes fell upon her figure, though her expression showed how little respect she truly had for him. "Your majesty." She murmured as a learned response as she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"I hope you used your time in the dungeon to reflect on your attitude." His voice was firm, almost as if he was still angry with her for refusing to comply with his demands almost a week ago when he had wanted to use her to entertain the king of the neighboring kingdom who had come to visit. "You have to understand that you belong to me. You are here to serve me and the only reason you are not dead already is that I find you useful. But that can change and it depends entirely on how you behave. Do I make myself clear?"

She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue to avoid causing a scene that would undoubtedly send her straight to the dungeon again. "Yes, my king." She wasn't able to look him in the eye as she spoke as she didn't want to see the satisfaction in his expression.

"As a demonstration of my great generosity and compassion, I have decided to give you a second chance to prove your loyalty. But do not mistake my mercy for stupidity for this will be your last chance to prove your worth to me. If you say or do anything out of place you will know the sharp blade of my sword."

After she submissively assured him that she understood the seriousness of his words, he explained that he needed her to take care of some of the preparations for the feast in honor of his daughter. During the week the entire kingdom had participated in the celebrations for the girl's fifteenth birthday, an event that would culminate with a grand banquet in the evening. She would be in charge of preparing the floral arrangements that would decorate the entire palace as well as being responsible for the main entertainment since there was nothing to match the singing of a nymph. But in addition, the king put her on a special task. He wanted to give his daughter a beautiful garden with different types of flowers —one for each year of her life—, and she was the perfect person for the job. She accepted without question, not so much because she valued her life or feared reprisals if she refused, but rather because after being locked up for so long she missed being in contact with nature.

"If it's alright with you, my lord, I would like to start with the garden." She said in the most respectful way possible, explaining that with her powers weakened it was the task that would take the most work.

She was escorted by a group of half a dozen guards, who grabbed her roughly by the arms and dragged her through the castle corridors to the garden. Normally she would have complained about their mistreatment, but it all stopped mattering to her when she felt the gentle breeze hit the skin of her face. It was a wonderful feeling smelling the wet dirt in the air and hearing the birds singing after having spent so much time locked up in the deepest part of the castle. It almost felt like freedom.

Working in the garden awakened a bittersweet feeling in her. On the one hand, it was the most comfortable she had been since she arrived at the castle. Walking barefoot on the grass, feeling the earth between her toes and the flowers growing under her hands was as close to home as she had ever been. It was liberating in a way, putting her powers to good use and connecting with the nature she missed so much. But, on the other hand, it was also a reminder of all that she had lost, the life she would never get back. As much as she loved being outside after so many days locked up, she couldn't help but notice that nothing felt like home. The flowers didn't smell the same, the grass under her feet wasn't as soft, and even the birds didn't sing the same. That wasn't her home. This was not her forest.

As she buried her hands in the ground, she couldn't help but question what she was doing, and more importantly, why she was doing it. Sure, avoiding further punishment for disobeying the king's orders was a valid motivation, but was it really worth it? Why was she trying to preserve her life when the only future she had was to live locked up there forever? Was dying such a terrible fate when the alternative was imprisonment and slavery? A life away from her home, forced to indulge the whims of a power-hungry monster was no life at all, so why was she there obeying the orders of that disgusting man?

Then she realized that she still held out hope of escaping. Her spirit wasn't completely crushed and her love for Geralt wasn't entirely gone, so even if it was foolish, she still hoped he would show up to rescue her. They hadn't seen each other for over a year, since that sad day when their story had met an abrupt end after he confessed to her that there was another woman in his life, but she still held out hope of seeing him again. She dreamed of seeing his long white hair move in the air as he skillfully knocked down the guards that separated them and freed her from her confinement. How could she not when he had been her savior on more than one occasion? In fact, that was how they had met.

She was frightened and hurt the first time she saw him, trapped in a cage with symbols carved into the bars. It was a powerful spell that weakened her powers just like the shackles of dimeritium around her wrists. The cage was too small for her, a confined space where she could barely stretch her legs or sit up straight if she wanted to. A group of well-trained men had managed to capture her, taking advantage of her distraction and temporary weakness to lock her up and take her back to their master. She was so terrified that when she heard Geralt's sword clash with that of one of her attackers, she curled up in a corner, her body folding in on itself in an attempt to make herself small and invisible to the group of fighting men.

She recognized immediately that he was a witcher and that brought her no relief. While his kind generally didn't tend to see nymphs as dangerous monsters —as long as they behaved and didn't do anything to end up on their list, of course— she didn't feel completely safe in the presence of a witcher. She tended to hide on the occasions when one passed through her forest, believing it was best to stay away from people like that just in case. After all, they were monster hunters, a concept that, in her experience, meant something different to each individual and there was no way of knowing for sure if she fell into that category or not. So, even though he had overpowered her captors, she still felt fear when he approached.

Geralt felt that fear as soon as he took a step towards her, it was almost as strong as the power and magic that flowed from her being. Her beauty alone was enough to let him know that she was a nymph of the forest. Behind the earth and blood, hidden in a grimace of terror, were the delicate features that the witcher had only seen in the creatures of her kind that he had encountered in the past. The nymphs had a certain look, a special glow that distinguished them from the rest of the magical beings on the continent. They were also one of the gentlest and most peaceful creatures on the continent, focused only on protecting their homes and turning to violence only as a last defense mechanism. That was why Geralt did not sense a drop of evil in her. And that was also why he set out to free her from her confinement.

Even though her captors lay dead on the ground, she still looked terrified, her eyes glassy with tears and her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back a sob. When he approached her, the nymph snuggled further into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest in a protective manner. He raised his hands in the air in an attempt to show her that he was not going to hurt her, walking slowly toward the cage so he could release her. It was then that he noticed the symbols on the bars and the dimeritium shackles, which helped him understand how she had ended up there and why she was so scared. She was in a position of extreme vulnerability without her magic and, despite having saved her, he was a complete stranger who could very well cause her more trouble. So the witcher made an effort to appear friendly and non-threatening.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He told her to try to calm her down, though it wasn't much help. She curled further into the corner of the cage, hugging her legs to her chest and looking up at him with watchful eyes from between her knees.

"I know what you are." She answered him, the fear clear in her voice. "You are a witcher, you kill-"

"Monsters, yes." Geralt spoke for her. "But you are not one of them. You're safe with me."

At that moment she had no way of knowing what kind of impact those words would have on her life and how genuine they were. She accepted his help because she had no other choice, but time would show her how fortunate she had been to cross paths with Geralt. At first he played hard to get, barely speaking as she nursed his wounds once her powers stabilized. She'd had to resort to using her charms a little to soften that hard exterior of his, but once Geralt began to open up to her, she discovered the man he truly was.

Geralt tended to lean into rumors about himself and his kind, pretending to be emotionless and not caring about anything or anyone but himself. But that was all an act, a protective shield. In reality he cared. He was capable of feeling emotions as deeply as any other being on the continent. He hated and held grudges, but he also loved and cared for those close to him just as intensely. And once she discovered that, she found it very easy to love him back.

She was truly safe with him, and in the long years that their love blossomed he did nothing but prove that to her. Geralt was her favorite person in the world. He was her home, her lover, her protector... A love like that was not easily forgotten and no one could blame her for holding out even the slightest hope that he would come for her, that he would somehow sense that she was in danger and rush to her rescue. It had happened in the past, their connection was that strong, so it wasn't an entirely far-fetched idea. It was just... naive of her.

Geralt had been traveling for days. He usually preferred to use alternative paths hidden behind forests or swamps, they were quieter and better for his business. Not many people used them so he didn't run into anyone that would bother him, and it was easy to run into the occasional monster roaming around, so it was a win-win situation for everyone. What he hated, however, was that most of the time it took him twice as long to get to some town where he could rest with minimal comforts and eat a hot meal.

Had he taken the main road he would probably already be at his destination, drinking in the dark corner of some dingy bar or locked in the room of some cheap inn, and not wandering the forest in search of an animal big enough to satisfy his appetite. He didn't mind being outdoors or having to hunt for his food on the spot —-in fact he was so used to that he almost preferred it—, but this time he was tired and couldn't wait to be anywhere but there. Perhaps that was why when he came across a king and his hunting party he accepted his offer to return to his camp to eat with him without putting up much of a fight.

Geralt hated royalty and King Elian was no exception. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, just like the vast majority of kings, but there was something else about him that rubbed the witcher the wrong way. He tried to decline his offer at first, but he was unwilling to take no for an answer.

"I'm afraid I will have to insist. My camp is not far from here and my tent is big and warm. I have more than enough food and I would love to hear some of your stories while we eat." The king insisted, pressing Geralt to accept his offer. "My men don't make for good company and I'm bored. I'm sure a witcher like you has been involved in a good share of adventures that make for fascinating stories."

In any other circumstances, Geralt would have found a way to escape from there. The last thing he wanted was to be used as the personal entertainment of an arrogant king. But this time he decided not to resist too much. He attributed it to his tiredness, he had been traveling for a long time and at least it wouldn't be a sacrifice in vain since he could at least get food in exchange for entertaining him for a while. But perhaps there was something more than that playing a role there. Fate itself had crossed their paths for a reason, even though he didn't know it yet.

"It's not as interesting or glorious as one might think." Geralt said with honesty.

In his experience there were two types of opinions regarding his people and what they did for a living. There were the people who despised them for what they were and believed they were no different than the monsters they killed and there were those who found them fascinating and longed to go on adventures like the ones they often experienced. To him both opinions were bullshit. He wasn't a monster, he didn't kill for pleasure or for fun as many people believed, but neither was he some kind of hero whose life was worthy of being immortalized in songs and poems. He was just a man who did what he knew best to survive, just like all witchers and all beings on the continent. He and his kind did not deserve hatred, but neither did they deserve to be crowned with laurels. They deserved to be left in peace, nothing more, nothing less.

"I have to say I'm grateful for the work you and your kind does." The king continued speaking without acknowledging Geralt's words. It was as if he was not there, his words were of little value to the king when they did not say exactly what he wanted to hear from him. "These creatures are dangerous and can't be left alone to live amongst us. Although some are fascinating creatures if given proper care and purpose."

Geralt looked at the monarch with a frown, unsure of what he meant by that. He said nothing, however, just remained silent for most of their journey to the camp, while trying to get a better read on the man beyond the typical arrogance of all of his kind. There was something about him that he did not like, something that caused a feeling that other kings and nobles did not. It was something more than his simple unpleasant personality, but he could not figure out what it was.

"You should come to my kingdom sometime." King Elian offered as they finally reached what appeared to be the camp where he and his hunting party had set up their base. "I have a collection of creatures I'm sure you would love to see."

The witcher halted his walk, looking at the king with narrowed eyes. "A collection?"

"Oh yes! I have the biggest collection of magical creatures in the whole continent." He admitted as if it was something to be proud of. "I have some pretty rare ones I'm sure you and your people would love to study. You're more than welcome to come over anytime! After all, we are all on the same side."

Geralt did not like the way the king referred to magical creatures and hated that he equated himself with witchers and the work they did. They didn't lock up monsters to brag about their large collection to strangers. They didn't see them as objects that gave them some kind of prestige. They saw them as living creatures, sometimes dangerous, sometimes misunderstood. Witchers did not enslave or kill monsters for fun as he seemed to do and Geralt was disgusted that he would even try to imply such a thing.

However, before he could voice his opinion, the king shoved him into his luxurious tent and the servants set a plate of food in front of him. It was filled with meat and potatoes and vegetables so colorful that they must have been freshly picked. It might have been the hunger talking, but it was the most appetizing food he had tasted in a long time. It was indeed fit for a king and Geralt thought it was definitely worth chatting with his host for a while in exchange for a share, especially after tasting the wine.

"It's good, isn't it?" the king asked him, studying his reaction as he lifted the wine glass to his mouth. "I have someone special that takes care of all the plants in the castle so I only eat the best of the best. It's actually one of my creatures. You can meet her, if you want."

Geralt let go of the piece of meat between his fingers and looked at the king with a frown. There was a subtle change in the air that made him instinctively tense, wondering what his host was up to. The king gave him a small smile before gesturing to one of his men, who left the tent without saying a word. The monarch's menacing aura put the witcher on alert, carefully watching his every move while he ate as if trying to predict what he would do next. His attitude had changed in a matter of seconds. Geralt couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something about the way he looked back at him that put him on edge. It was almost as if he was waiting for something to happen —as if he knew something was going to happen—, the glow of anticipation clear in his eyes.

He didn't understand his attitude, at least not until the guard returned to the tent. Only he wasn't alone, but was carrying a girl on his arm who was shuffling her bare feet across the ground hesitantly, as if she really didn't want to be there. Her eyes were downcast and her long hair was tangled over her face, so that Geralt could not see her features. Her dress, which seemed to have been a beautiful piece of art at one time, was now dirty and worn, with the fabric torn to shreds on some sides. Her hands were bound together at her wrists, trapped by shackles of dimeritium that marked her condition of slavery. It was a sad sight that became horrifying when Geralt smelled the scent of flowers in the air.

His heart stopped as his nostrils were assaulted with the sweet smell of cherry blossom that he knew and had come to love. The world around him stopped as he was struck with the horrible realization of what was happening. He did not need to see the face of the captured young woman to know it was her. It was enough to feel her energy in the tent as he breathed in her characteristic sweet scent.

Geralt jumped to his feet, hand gripping his sword as he entered a state of desperation. He wasn't thinking, he couldn't, he had been reduced to his most primitive instincts by seeing her there in that condition. She was weak and injured in a way that Geralt had never seen, her glow and warm, positive energy almost completely extinguished after being tortured for who knows how long. However, when her eyes met his, he noticed a slight glimmer of joy and hope. That only further increased his desire to protect her, the murderous urge growing inside him and urging him to crush anyone who stood between them.

"Let her go!" Geralt demanded firmly, turning his eyes away from his former lover to look the king in the eyes.

He was furious and desperate, it was evident in his voice and in the hard expression on his face. Anyone would have given in to his demands if he looked at them with those murderous eyes, but King Elian did not flinch. He didn't seem to care that Geralt was pointing his sword at him or that he looked ready to take on an army on his own, he continued to eat as if nothing was happening while the tent filled with guards ready to defend him.

"Please, sit down. You barely touched your food." The monarch spoke in a calm, casual tone. But Geralt did not move, he stood his ground, sword held high and hate-filled eyes fixed on him. "Fate is its a curious thing, don't you agree? This invisible force pushing us to the right path so we might fulfill our destiny, making every little interaction, every little decision, integral... Take this as an example. This morning when I woke up I didn't think that I was going to cross paths with you and yet here we are."

"Let. Her. Go." Geralt interrupted the king's unimportant ramblings, pausing slightly at each word to emphasize his anger. He didn't care what the man had to say, he would slice him through with his sword right there if it weren't for the fact that his sweet nymph was bound and surrounded by guards who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her before he could get to her. "I won't ask again. Next time it will be my sword doing the talking."

"I don't want to fight you, Geralt. If anything, I want to thank you for helping me fulfill my destiny, my purpose of becoming the biggest collector of magical creatures in the continent... You see, if it weren't for you, I could never have captured a forest nymph as powerful as her. I admit that you ruined my plans the first time when you attacked my men, but in the end it was thanks to you that I was able to get my hands on her."

"What are you talking about?" the witcher asked, confused. It could be the adrenaline coursing through his veins and drowning out his thoughts —or the fact that his heart was beating so fast that it was pounding in his ears muffling all other sounds—, but the king wasn't making much sense to him. They had never crossed paths before, and if they had, he would never have helped him in something so horrible.

"I could never have caught her while she was under your protection. But when you left... well, let's just say she was withering away little by little, weakening day by day until she got to the point where she couldn't defend herself when my men came for her."

Geralt froze in place as the king's words echoed in his head. It was a lot of information to process and he was in no condition to do so. If he wasn't so devastated he might have reacted to the implication that the king had been watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike after he had saved her from his men the day they had met. But at that moment he could only concentrate on the feelings of guilt and regret that came over him.

When he left, he never thought about the consequences his decision might have. He never thought about how his departure would affect her or if she would be okay. He knew she would be sad and hurt, just as it hurt him to have to leave her, but he also knew it was the right thing to do. So he focused on moving on, hoping she would too, without stopping to consider the consequences. He thought about her a lot in the time they spent apart —when he lay awake at night, admiring the stars and the nocturnal sounds of the woods; or as he dressed quietly after spending a night with Yennefer—, but in his mind he always pictured her happy. She was strong and had lived many years alone on the continent before their paths crossed, so he was sure that their breakup would not destroy her. He was sure that she would find a way to get back on her feet and that it would be better for the both of them to stay apart.

Now he realized that was just an excuse. He was being selfish, protecting himself and running away from reality so as not to face it because it hurted him. It hurted to know that he was hurting her. It hurted that he fell in love with another woman behind her back. It hurted to have to leave her after all they had been through together, the love they shared, the moments of vulnerability and intimacy that had brought them together. It hurted because he had failed her, because he couldn't keep his promise to be with her forever. So he completely disappeared from her life, making excuses to justify his behavior and convince himself that he was doing the right thing even though he knew deep down that he wasn't. He ran away like a coward and she ended up paying the price for it.

The witcher's eyes searched the nymph's, hoping to find in them the answers to the questions he had not asked, some indication that the king was not lying. She escaped his gaze, feeling embarrassed and extremely vulnerable. But eventually their gazes met and Geralt knew the mistake he had made. He should have been there for her. He should have helped her when they came for her. He should have searched for her all over the continent once he noticed her disappearance. He should have protected her, just as he always had. He had failed her twice, but he would not let there be a third.

Geralt carried out his threat without hesitation, lashing out at the nearest soldiers in an effort to reach her. The clinking sound of clashing swords and the groans of his opponents were all that echoed in his mind, focusing on his enemy to keep his head cool and ensure victory. They were no threat to him. They were well trained and knew how to move around very well, but he was a witcher with decades of experience and unmatched reflexes and skills. He had defeated them once in the past and he would do it again now without breaking a sweat.

At least that's what he thought before he heard the voice of the young nymph in the distance calling out for him.

“Geralt!” She exclaimed his name for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Her sweet voice traveled through the air, piercing through the sound of metal and the grunts of pain until it reached his ears. She managed to get his attention immediately as he recognized the hint of fear in it. As he buried his sword in his opponent, his eyes snapped up to her, searching for her in the crowd following the sound of her voice.

When he finally found her, Geralt's heart sank as he discovered the reason for the fear in her voice. The king had his hands around her, holding her tightly against his body. His left hand was wrapped around her torso, restricting her movement, while his right hand wielded a silver dagger against her neck. The metal gleamed in the dim light, revealing the sharp edge that burned the girl's skin. Desperate, Geralt tried to lunge at the monarch, but he stopped him with a click of his tongue.

"One more step and she dies." He assured, firmly. Geralt noticed the honesty in his voice, so he stayed in place and slowly lowered his sword —though he did not drop it—, a desperate attempt to buy time to think of a plan to get out of there with her by his side.

"You don't have to do this." Geralt tried to reason with him even though he knew it was in vain. He didn't see her as more than an object, just another piece in his long collection of creatures, so it was safe to assume he didn't value her life very much. But still, Geralt didn't have much choice so he tried anyway.

"She has been nothing but trouble since the moment she arrived at the castle, isn't that right, darling?" The king grumbled, lowering his head just slightly so he could mutter the last question against the young nymph's ear. "Crying all day, disobeying my orders, upsetting the other creatures... and now your friend over here kills half my men after I feed him and show him my generosity."

"If we present so much trouble to you, why don't you let us go? I'll take her with me and I promise you won't hear from us ever again."

"You are ungrateful brats." The king continued speaking, completely ignoring Geralt's words. "You think you are special, important, and therefore above it all... but you are not. Your actions have consequences and I am the one who decides what they are... You do not deserve my generosity or my mercy."

Geralt didn't have time to think about the hypocrisy in the monarch's words because before he could process them his eyes watched in horror as he slid the blade of the dagger across his beloved's neck. Blood began to gush violently from the wound, the thick, sticky liquid sliding down the young woman's delicate skin, turning everything red. He screamed her name, his sword slipping from his fingers and crashing to the floor with a muffled sound. He ran towards her, completely forgetting the guards he was fighting moments before. He only cared about her.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was moving in slow motion, as if his feet were twice as heavy and dragging them along the ground was more difficult than usual. Everyone around him seemed to slow down, the men around him, the gentle breeze of the wind... everything but her. He watched her collapse to the ground, blood covering her chest as she struggled to keep breathing. But he couldn't reach her. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms one more time, but it was as if an abyss was keeping them apart. It felt as if fate was mocking him, punishing him for his mistakes by allowing him to be there with her, but not letting him do anything to save her.

He tried to stop the bleeding as he knelt beside her —placing his hands on her neck and feeling the blood gushing from the wound—, but it was too late. She was pale and weak, all the magic in the world could not have saved her at that moment. There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful green orbs that were fading with each passing second. She was scared, Geralt could see it in her expression. She didn't want to go, but she knew there was nothing else to do now.

"I'm here, I'm here." Geralt whispered in the calmest, most comforting tone he was capable of uttering at that moment. He swallowed his anger and pain, holding back tears so he could give her some peace. He cradled her face in his hands, fingers caressing the skin of her cheeks delicately as if he were afraid of breaking it. "It's going to be okay... you're going to be okay. I will fix this."

She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but instead of sound only blood came out. Geralt caressed her gently, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her hand around his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. She was begging him to understand her, to read in her eyes her thoughts as he had done so many times in the past. It took Geralt a few seconds to understand her, although in hindsight it should have been obvious to him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to assure him that none of it was his fault and that no matter what had happened between them, he would own her heart forever.

"I love you. I always will."

Geralt saw the reassurance in her face as the warmth of love enveloped her in her last moments. She gave him the faintest of smiles, an almost invisible sign of the peace his words had brought her. And then her grip on his arm weakened, her hand dropping to the floor as life left her body. Suddenly, that subtle smile, now permanently carved into her expression, was all he had left of her, of her life and the love they shared.

Geralt did not fight when the soldiers dragged him and tied him to a tree to leave him there to die while they escaped, he did not have the strength to do so. He was numb to the world around him, consumed by grief. The sound of the king and his men preparing to leave sounded muffled and distant, as if they were far away from him. And in a way they were, for his mind was not one with his body, but far away. He was focused on the slowly withering body of his beloved, on the fear as she called his name and the terror in her eyes as the edge of the dagger sealed her fate. He could only think of her and all the time they had lost and could never get back, feeling the guilt slowly consuming him as her body transformed into a pile of pink petals.

Geralt admired her face in the dim glow of the candlelight, thinking about how beautiful she looked tangled in the sheets beside him. Her hair spread across the pillow like a halo around her head and her smooth skin was covered with a light layer of sweat that gave her an almost ethereal glow. It felt like an illusion, a trick of his mind. He found it hard to believe he had someone like her lying next to him, looking at him with love in her eyes.

It wasn't just her beauty. No. It was the peace her mere presence awakened in him and the void he felt in his chest when they were apart. It was the way he dreamed of her and her caresses every night he went to bed alone and how his longing disappeared when he felt her warmth against him as their bodies melted into one. It was the way her kisses made him feel like he was home, safe and away from the complications of the world outside the little paradise that was her forest. It was much more than physical attraction, more than the effects of her nymph charm, as he had initially thought. It was love. Pure, honest love, like he had never felt before. He was in love with her, and while he hadn't put it into words yet, he wasn't afraid to admit it.

Her fingers aroused a warm tingle as they caressed his cheek. Geralt leaned into it, closing his eyes for a second to appreciate the magic of the moment. It was amazing how such a subtle act, such a light touch, was able bring out so many emotions in him. It was something only she could do, a clear demonstration of how deep his feelings for her were.

However, when Geralt opened his eyes again, he didn't find the special glow he usually saw in them at intimate moments like this. She was looking straight at him, but it was as if she was looking right through him, as if her mind was lost in her thoughts. Something was bothering her, that much was clear in the green tint of her eyes. Her mouth would open slightly, almost in an imperceptible movement, only to close seconds later, as if there was something she wanted to tell him but couldn't quite bring herself to say. So he decided to ask her about it.

"What's wrong?" Geralt voice was low and raspy with sleep, looking at her with a slight frown in confusion. There was a moment of silence before she answered. Her eyes never left his, but her hand slowly slid from his cheek to rest on his bare chest.

"I'm afraid of losing you." She eventually said, her voice almost a whisper. "You travel across the continent, meet all kinds of people... I'm afraid one day you will get bored of me... find someone better and leave me forever."

Geralt could not believe his ears. It was ridiculous to him that she could have such a fear of abandonment when he felt the way he did. If only she knew how happy being with her made him... If only he could somehow transfer his emotions to her so that she could feel his heart race when they kissed, or experience the peace that filled him inside every night when he lay down next to her... If only she knew, she wouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. So, he took her hand in his and pressed it against the left side of his chest, right over where his heart was beating with love for her. She needed to know that she was the only one who had a permanent place there. She was the only one he loved and he doubted that would ever change.

"Believe me when I tell you that there is no force on this continent that can keep me away from you." He spoke in a soft voice and watched as her eyes lit up full of illusion. "I love you, forever and always."

He sealed his promise with a kiss, showing her with his lips how serious he was about it. He loved her and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to be with her for the rest of his life, sharing intimate moments like this one and protecting her from any evil that might come her way. He felt complete with her and could not imagine how miserable his life would be without her by his side.

Geralt allowed himself to get lost in the passion of the moment, fingers tracing trails over his beloved's bare skin as he melted into the kiss. It was different this time, more intimate and charged with all the emotions that were left unsaid —it was their special way of communicating, one kiss and they knew what was going through each other's minds. The comforting warmth of love filled his heart, leaving him in a state of total bliss as she whispered sweet nothings against his lips. He was happy in a way he could not remember ever being before, in a way he knew he could only be with her.

But suddenly that comforting warmth that flooded his insides was replaced by a paralyzing cold, an emptiness that pressed against his chest and took his breath away. Geralt could no longer feel his beloved's lips against his. He could no longer smell the flowery scent her soft skin radiated or feel the warmth of her body. He was trapped in a black void, in emptiness itself, all alone. And in the distance he could hear his name being called.

Geralt

It was a cry for help, the voice of terror of someone who had been confronted with their own mortality. The voice trembled with fear, certain of the fatal fate that awaited them. Geralt could not escape its shrieks, no matter how hard he tried. It was his own personal hell, a void where he was forced to confront his pain, his guilt, and to listen again and again to his beloved's voice filled with terror as she spoke his name for the last time.

Geralt woke up tangled in the sheets, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and breathing fast due to his nightmare. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling as he tried to pull himself together. His beloved's voice was still ringing in his ears, only that with every waking second it became more and more distant until it became an almost unintelligible whisper. Anguish and guilt weighed heavy on his chest, but he was used to that by now. The emptiness inside him had accompanied him every moment of his life since that unfortunate day. He could not escape the pain and regret he felt, it haunted him even when he closed his eyes at night. He could not even enjoy the peaceful ignorance in the mornings, when one's mind is too sleepy to process life's tragedies, because his nightmares would remind him of every painful detail of that day so that he could not rest.

At a time like this, when life had become so overwhelming that he was unable to sleep, he usually reached out to her. With her gentle touch and sweet voice she was always able to calm his tormented self, wash away the anger and frustration and replace it with love and calmness. But now she was gone and he didn't know how to go on. He missed her more than he thought it was possible to miss anyone. He missed the melodious sound of her laughter and the light in her eyes when she was happy. He missed waking up next to her in the mornings, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping him as she whispered good morning to him, her voice hoarse from sleep. He wished he could once again feel the soft caress of her lips on his and hear her say she loved him one more time.

There was nothing Geralt wasn't willing to do to have her back with him, to be able to tell her how much he loved her and how he regretted leaving her. He had been an idiot to have given in to his desires for Yennefer. He should never have gotten involved with her, he should have let her own greed and obsession destroy her that day. He should have saved Jaskier and moved on with his life, after all Yennefer's problems were of no concern to him. But he could not resist his need to intervene, acting like a knight in shining armor instead of what he really was: a witcher. He made an impulsive decision, binding their destinies with magic and unknowingly triggering the death of his beloved. For if only he had been with her, if only he had stayed by her side to protect her as he had promised, he was sure things would be very different. She would still be alive and he would not be so miserable.

But Geralt was determined to make things right. He refused to let her die because of his mistakes. And looking at the cherry blossom tree growing outside his window, he knew the time was getting closer.

"I will fix this." He spoke to the tree, stroking the trunk with his hand as he sucked in a long breath of air. It smelled like her, a sweet scent mixed with the aroma of wood and wet earth. It ached and comforted him in equal amounts. "I will bring you back to me and I will keep my promise to you this time."

Geralt knew she was gone, but her essence was still alive in that tree. Born from the pink petals in which her body had withered when she died, it grew stronger with each day, keeping a fragment of her alive. Of course it was not her, but for now he was happy to make promises to the wind that its branches generated, clinging to the sweet scent of its flowers as the only sign that his words were well received by her. It was all he had, all he had left of her, and for now that was enough. He still wasn't sure how he would fulfill his promises or even where to begin. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that his love for her was stronger than fate itself and there was no force on the continent that could stop him from keeping his promise this time.

The solution to his dilemma presented itself almost by accident. And it came from the place Geralt least expected. He had spent the last few months visiting every library he had access to, reading every book and consulting with every expert he knew in his desperate search to find a way to bring his beloved back to life. But in the end, it was Jaskier who presented him with a solution in the form of a song.

They were traveling on a back road after a successful job. The bard had offered to accompany him under the excuse that he needed new inspirations, but Geralt knew he was doing it because he didn't want to leave him alone. Jaskier knew the pain he felt and being the good friend he was he wanted to accompany him in mourning. Geralt appreciated him even if he didn't have the strength to say it in words. His light-hearted comments and meaningless ramblings were exactly what he needed to distract his tormented mind. Even his spontaneous singing at the worst possible moment cheered him up instead of irritating him as usual. Anything to help him concentrate on something else was welcomed.

They had been walking for hours, hoping to reach the next town before dark and sleep in a comfortable bed in a warm room and not in the middle of the forest again. They were quiet, only the chirping of birds and the sound of leaves crunching under their feet echoed in the air. They had run out of things to talk about an hour ago and Jaskier was starting to get bored. So he did what he always did when he found himself in that situation, sing. Only this time Geralt didn't recognize the verses as one of his own original songs. It was one he had not heard him sing before, so he paid attention.

It told the story of a young man that had managed to win the heart of a forest nymph with his beautiful singing. The connection they shared was so strong that they married shortly after meeting, in the same place where they first saw each other. Happiness and love filled their days for a few long and joyful months. That was until fate, jealous and bitter, stood in the way of their happiness. So, one morning, after being bitten by a snake, the young nymph died. Her beloved fell into a state of despair when he heard the tragic news. Unable to accept that his wife had been taken from his life without warning, he descended into the depths of the underworld to plead for her soul. The song narrated the difficulties of his journey and the perseverance with which he had faced each difficulty until he reached the lord of the underworld himself, to whom he tearfully begged for the return of his wife. The emotion in his words was such that he managed to move Hades, who gave in to his prayers. Although he imposed a condition: that he would not turn around to see his wife's soul following his steps until he left the underworld.

The story did not end well since the young man had been too eager and had turned to see his beloved before she was completely above ground. But Geralt didn't care about that somber detail. His attention was focused on the young man and his journey to the underworld, not only because he felt somehow connected to the emotions of sadness and despair he felt, but also because he was fairly certain he could recreate his heroic efforts.

"Are you crazy?" was Jaskier's reaction to hearing Geralt's idea, his voice raised in a tone of surprise and concern. "Haven't you heard the end of the song? Things go wrong! He doesn't get his wife back!"

“I know, but I don’t care.”

“Geralt, the story it’s just a myth… a tragic love story that one could say is a cautionary tale! You’re not supposed to follow in his footsteps, you’re supposed to learn to live with the grief, process your emotions and eventually move on… Look, I know this is hard for you. I miss her too… What happened to her wasn’t fair, but it wasn't your fault either. Blindly following the words of a myth is not going to change anything.”

“But it’s not a myth, not all of it at least.” Geralt recognized that the love story of the young man and the forest nymph might be an invention, but he knew of the existence of a door to the underworld. It was hidden and required great power and extensive knowledge of magic to be opened, but it was real. And fortunately for him, he knew one of the most powerful and skilled mages on the continent. Though convincing her to help him would not be an easy task given how things had ended between them.

"Why should I help you?" Yennefer said with annoyance in her voice when he showed up unannounced to ask for her help. It was clear that she did not enjoy the witcher's surprise visit and was not shy about showing it. "And more importantly, why are you asking for my help with something like this? I thought you of all people would know how dangerous opening the doors of the underworld is."

"Why do you care?" Geralt answered her with another question. To be honest, he didn't think the difficulties in getting her help would come from a moral issue. Yennefer was not the type of mage who cared too much about such things. "Are you in this or not?"

"That depends... what's in it for me? I hope you know I'm not going to waste my energy in helping you out of the goodness of my heart, not after all the shit you did." Geralt smiled at her remark, surprised that it had taken her so long to once again blurt out her complaints about him saving her life. She was still angry at him for linking their destinies with the wish to the Djinn and at this point he doubted she would ever get over it.

"You get the once in a lifetime chance to traverse the underworld and possibly get knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension." He simply stated.

Yennefer was silent for a moment, watching Geralt intently, violet eyes piercing his yellow orbs. It alerted him to strengthen his mental shield to keep her from entering his thoughts.

"When you live as long as I have, once in a lifetime opportunities start losing power and meaning."

"I'm offering you an opportunity to explore the unexplored and that's your answer? This could have all the answers you've spent years looking for and you're not interested?"

"Oh I'm interested, I just can't understand why Geralt of Rivia, the mighty witcher who prides in his indifference and ability to not intervene, would be interested in opening the gates to the underworld?"

"I have my reasons and they are not of your concern. Are you going to help me or not?"

Yennfer was silent for a moment, considering her options. And then, she smiled at him, and he knew he could count on her help.

Preparing for such an adventure was difficult. It was the first time in his life that Geralt did not know what to expect. He had no idea what he was going to encounter once they crossed the gates to the world of the dead. He didn't know what kind of obstacles he would encounter on the journey or if he would even accomplish his task. But he had to try. Even if it was the last thing he did, he owed it to her.

It was difficult to prepare for the uncertain, so he tried to imagine all possible scenarios and prepare accordingly. He tried to be as meticulous as possible, but he knew it was impossible to stay on top of everything. What he never imagined, however, was that trouble would come from Yennefer's end. He always saw her as such a powerful and determined individual that he did not take into consideration that her energy could wear out and her magic could be consumed. Geralt had no way of really knowing how demanding the spell to open the gates of the underworld would be. He knew it was not something that just anyone could do, but he thought Yennefer could handle it without much trouble. He had never seen magic like hers. And what she lacked in skill, she made up for in stubbornness, so he thought that with her by his side things would not be so difficult.

However, the moment they took a step into the world of the dead, Yennefer fell weakly into the witcher's arms. She muttered something about having spent her energy and how the nature of the place did not allow her to pull herself together. Geralt suggested that she stay outside, after all, this wasn't her fight and she didn't have to risk so much for him. And at that instant, as if the walls were listening to them, the doors closed, leaving only one possible path.

The place was cold and dark, like a cave hidden deep in a mountain. There was not so much as a ray of sunlight, the little light that illuminated their way came from torches distributed along the stone walls. The air was heavy, stale, and it was hard to breathe. It was clear that this was no place for the living, but Geralt continued on his way despite the difficulties. He took Yennefer by the waist, letting her wrap one arm around his shoulders so she could walk, and followed the straight path that the torches seemed to indicate. At the end of the tunnel he came to a large river, and on the shore rested a boat. Inside it stood a hooded figure, long black robes covered its entire body in a way that Geralt could not see its face when it turned to look at them, only a void lost inside the hood.

"He's been waiting for you." The figure spoke, stepping aside so they could board the boat. Geralt hesitated, thinking back to all the catastrophic scenarios he had imagined in preparation for this moment. Surely that had to be a trap, things couldn't be that simple, could they?

"He wants to speak to you, Geralt of Rivia." The figure spoke again as it noticed the hesitation in the witcher's attitude. "He sent me to find you and ensure your safe passage through these waters." He did not trust it, but Yennefer pushed him into the boat with what little strength she had, so he had no other choice.

The dark figure did not utter another word. It went about its task in complete silence, paddling in the waters of oblivion until it brought them close to shore. It did not help them down once they reached their destination, nor did it open its mouth to give them directions. Just pointed a long, skeletal finger toward the horizon and set off the same way it had come.

A dark, dead forest loomed before them. Long, thin tree trunks, nearly leafless branches and shabby bushes decorated the path. Everything seemed to be in shades of black and gray, though that was probably due to the lack of sun. In the distance a structure could be seen, a castle whose colors matched the rest of the landscape. Although the neat and polished appearance of its exterior contrasted with the disheveled and dead environment around it. It was clear that that was where they should go, so Geralt took Yennefer in his arms once more and set off on his way.

There was not much distance separating them from the castle, but the witcher felt as if he had spent an eternity walking. And yet, at the same time, when he reached the large wooden gates, he was amazed to have reached his destination so quickly. His perception of time was totally altered, affected by the atmosphere of the place. Time did not flow there in the same way as it did on the surface. It was as if it was both stopped and accelerated all at once, as if each step took hours and at the same time a couple of seconds. It was more than the absence of sunlight confusing his perception. It was the way things worked in that place, a world separate from the one lying on the surface that he was not supposed to access.

The man who appeared in front of them when the doors opened on their own was imposing, but far less frightening than Geralt expected. It was enough to look into his eyes to know that he was the person in charge of the place. Power shone in his eyes in the same way the witcher had seen it in the kings in the world of the living. And yet, there was something unique about them, something that made it clear that he was no mere mortal. Geralt knew better than to challenge him, though he wasn't sure his emotions would allow him to be cautious if things didn't go as he hoped.

"I've been waiting for you, witcher." the god said in a loud, clear voice. "I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."

Geralt was not pleased to learn that he had been waiting for him. He had imagined it might be a possibility, but he thought the god would use that knowledge to stop him. The fact that he welcomed him without trials or difficulties, sending his people to look for him and opening the doors of his home to him without hesitation, made him suspicious. For all he knew, it could all be a trap.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, witcher! I have far more important things to do than to set you up." The god spoke as if reading his thoughts.

"You knew I was coming?" Geralt managed to say and the god nodded.

"And most importantly, I know why you are here. I knew you were going to find your way here the second she came in."

The mere mention of his beloved in the conversation had Geralt's heart racing, a gesture of both love and anxiety. He felt Yennefer's eyes on him, watching him with furrowed brows as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew of his former lover, the forest nymph he had abandoned after their destinies were linked, and he had no doubt that she would understand what was happening in just a second, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to have her back.

"So, I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

"I do, yes. And I will not be opposing to your wishes, Geralt of Rivia. I knew from the first moment that this was not her time and I am willing to give her another chance to live out her destiny without surprise interruptions from magic... However, I do have one condition."

"And you say it was not a trap..."

"It is not! It is just a simple... exchange."

"An exchange of what?"

The god paused, taking his moment to answer.

"Souls are complex things, Geralt. Very powerful, very strong... I can't just let one walk out of here."

"Why not? You have plenty here."

"It's a matter of balance, I don't expect you to understand that. But, if you want your dear nymph back, you'll have to give me a soul in return."

Geralt was silent for a moment, carefully analyzing his situation. After all the work it had taken him to get there, he didn't plan to leave empty-handed. But he also didn't want to condemn an innocent soul who had nothing to do with his mistakes. So he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Fine," the witcher agreed. "Take me then. My soul for hers, it's only fair."

Yennefer tugged on his arm, ready to argue with him —thinking he was acting like an idiot by offering his life as if it was nothing—, but was interrupted before she could open her mouth by the laughter of the god in front of them.

"It's a nice gesture, but your soul isn't nearly powerful enough. It's better than an ordinary human’s soul, I'll give you that, but she's a nymph. Do you have any idea how much energy her soul contains?"

"Then name your price." Geralt said. He wasn't necessarily going to give in to his demands, but he figured it didn't hurt to learn what the god's wishes were.

"To be honest, I don't think you can get a soul of such power... however, you do have access to one that is quite close." Geralt didn't like the suggestive tone in the god's voice. And he liked it even less when his eyes fell on Yennefer as he finished the sentence.

"No!" The witcher declared as he understood the intentions behind those words. He had brought Yennefer with him to help him open the portal and nothing else. He refused to sacrifice one more life. No one else had to suffer because of his stupid decisions.

"She wouldn't suffer." The god spoke after glancing at Geralt's thoughts. "She doesn't even have to be dead, she just has to stay here with me."

"I don’t care. We're not doing this."

"Why don't you let her decide?" The god said, resting his eyes on Yennefer's violet ones. "It is a good deal. You get your lover back and she gets-"

"She gets imprisoned here forever." Geralt interrupted and the god looked at him wearily.

"She gets to be the most powerful madge in history, sitting by my side ruling the underworld... isn't that what you always wanted, Yennefer of Vengerberg, to have power beyond imaginable? What's more powerful than deciding between life and death?"

Geralt snorted at such words, finding the god's tricks very ineffective. But when he looked back at Yennefer, she had a look in her eyes that made him doubt. "You're not seriously considering his proposal, aren't you?" he approached her, speaking in a lower tone of voice so as not to be heard by the god.

"If we leave now then we traveled this far for nothing. Don't you want to get her back?"

"No if it means hurting innocent people. You have nothing to do with this."

"Except I do since the moment you made that srupid wish."

"I didn't save your life then just to leave you here now."

"You're not leaving me, I'm choosing to stay."

"You don't have to do this, Yennefer." Geralt's voice became softer. She seemed quite sure of her decision and he knew it would not be easy to persuade her otherwise, but he had to try. He didn't like the idea of leaving her behind, of sacrificing her in favor of his own happiness.

"Oh, please! I'm not doing this just for you. I usually don't like to waste my time and energy just to end up empty handed. I came here because, as you said, it was an opportunity to find the answers I've been looking for. So why don't you worry about you and let me worry about myself?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes. And while she wasn't lying and really had interests of her own in that place, Geralt really was a big part of the reason she wanted to accept the god's offer. There was something in his eyes, the sparkle of true love, that shone every time he thought of his departed lover. It was something she had never noticed in his eyes when he looked at her. It was clear that what they had was real, it softened her hardened and withering heart, and gave her hope that love was real. Though of course, she would never admit that to Geralt.

The witcher growled under his breath, clenching his jaw. Even though part of him didn't like the idea of leaving Yennefer behind, he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to hear those words. If she wanted to stay there for her own selfish reasons, then accepting the god's proposal was much easier on his conscience.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her once more, giving her one last chance to back out.

Yennefer shrugged. "I lived a long time among the living, had my good share of adventures... maybe it's time to try my luck in the underworld. "

That answer was good enough for Geralt. He accepted the god's proposal, exchanging Yennefer's soul for that of his beloved nymph. She would stay in the underworld with him and in return Geralt would get a second chance with his lover. The god instructed him to return home and assured him that when he arrived, her soul would already be back in her birth tree.

As he made his way back, the thought that the god was tricking him crossed his mind. He realized that he really had nothing to assure him that he would keep his word. For all he knew, this could have been a strange move by the god to get to Yennefer and her powers for some reason he did not know. Perhaps he was being used as a pawn in a larger chess game that he did not know he was part of. Perhaps he had unleashed a terrible evil upon the continent without realizing it.

But then he felt it.

The sweet scent of flowers assaulted his nostrils the moment he set foot in the forest. It was strong, much stronger than it had been in a long time. He noticed then that everything looked greener and more alive, every flower, bush and plant glowing in the warm sunlight in a way that they didn't when he left. Even the birds seemed to sing louder and more cheerfully.

Geralt ran to the cherry blossom tree he had been tending for what had felt like an eternity. His heart was racing with every step he took, not from the physical effort, but from the anticipation. The hope of seeing her again was what had kept him sane since that horrible day he had lost her. All this time he had thought it was impossible, an illusion that only served to keep him on his feet until the pain subsided. But now it was a reality, and he had so many emotions swirling inside him that he didn't know exactly what to feel.

Suddenly, his eyes came upon a figure on the horizon. It was partially blocked by the rays of sunlight that kept him from seeing clearly, so he picked up his pace to get closer. Little by little the figure revealed itself in front of him, until it became clear to him that the one who was walking around the forest, picking flowers and petting the animals, was her.

She looked as beautiful as he remembered her, with her long hair blowing in the wind and a sweet smile on her face. It was as if time had never passed, as if that horrible day and the pain that her death had unleashed had been just a bad dream. It was as if he had never lost her.

Geralt stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell on hers, paralyzed by the emotions coursing through him. All this time he had dreamed of this moment and now that he had her only a few feet away he didn't know how to react. His eyes blurred with tears, but he caught a glimpse of his beloved's figure running to him before he felt the warmth of her body in his arms. He held her tighter than he ever had, pulling her against his chest as a way of both making sure she was real and that she couldn't pull away from him.

"You came for me." She muttered, melting into the embrace. Her memory was somewhat fuzzy, but she remembered clearly the moment when the blade of the dagger had caressed her neck. She remembered how it had felt and the horror in Geralt's eyes as she fell into his arms, taking her last breaths. She remembered his words of comfort and his promise to make things right, as if he actually could. She still didn't understand how she was back there, but she knew it was Geralt she had to thank for her second chance at life. Somehow, he had found a way to bring her back, she was sure of that.

"I'll always come back for you."

The kiss they shared was unlike any other. It was passionate and desperate, yet soft and tender. It was charged with all the emotions that had been left unsaid between them, sadness, regret, longing, but, above all, love. They felt that spark the moment their lips brushed, just like in the old days. Geralt hadn't realized how much he had missed feeling her soft lips on his until that moment. He allowed himself to get lost in the joy he felt, letting the warmth of her body against his slowly remove the traces of sadness and pain that had haunted him all this time.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, enjoying the moment they had both been longing for so long. It was just him, her and the chirping of birds in the trees. Breathing in the floral scent of her hair, Geralt knew that the gray days were behind him. Gone were the guilt and the pain, the sleepless nights and the cold mornings without his beloved. She was back by his side, just as she always should have been. And he was more than happy for the new beginning he had with her. A new chance to make things right, to honor his word and keep his promise, just as he should have done from the beginning. He was ashamed that he had had to lose her to realize how big his mistake had been, but now that he had her back he wasn't going to let her go. His love had proven to be stronger than everything, even death itself.

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fallen-flier · 5 months ago

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the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

part 1 + ao3 link

idea inspired by this post by @puppetwoman17!

beta'd by @pinkcowzz :)

Tim had forgotten, to some extent, how vigilantism looked from a civilian perspective. Unless one had a strict, holier than thou moral standing, was a certain type of law enforcement, or was a criminal, very few people well and truly saw it as a bad thing, unless said vigilante punished innocents.

So when Tim sees Nightwing on the news, beautifully intricate and brutal, the air is punched out of his lungs. His older brother hasn't adopted the same type of showiness and efficiency Tim is used to, but he can see moves that Dick could've developed into his future style— a kick that could've transitioned into a flip, too many spins when it could've been easier just to twist out of the way. Tim aches, the same way a younger sibling misses the quiet and not-so-quiet affection only the older can fill. Tim knows how to bide his time, knows the price of hastiness like an old wound, but this is different. Dick is not a mission Tim needs to fulfill, a duty Tim has bound himself to serve (to save), he's Tim's older brother.

Because here is the thing about Dick: Tim knows he cannot outsmart him. Not because Tim isn't a fantastic liar or is wonderful at gaslighting people, but it's because he's learned it from the very boy who preceded him— Dick.

If Tim could move people around like chess pieces, analyze their next move and stay three steps ahead of them, then Dick could coax them to shift to where he wanted, read their body language and mood like it was nothing, slide right into their path and dismantle it. Tim manipulated people with the ease of a trained puppeteer but Dick was a damned master at it.

Or maybe, Tim just didn't want to see his older brother because the whole thing would fall apart. Not because Dick could read him like Cass could, but because Tim would probably slip up too much, let him know more information than needed— and boom, cover blown.

It's a good thing he's too young for galas at this age. Tim still has a few days left of spring break, but the deadline is coming quickly and he'll be thrown back into middle school. Or well, boarding school, to be exact. Which meant he wouldn't be anywhere near his house or the nightlife of Gotham for a few more months, not until summer break. The thought makes Tim's stomach twist uncomfortably with dread, half because he's still being hit with migraines and trips over himself way too much and the paranoia of being unable to protect himself gets a little heavy sometimes. And Tim hasn't exactly had the best of relationships with schools in general.

Intellectually, he knows that school should be easy. He's twenty-three years old and he's going to be surrounded by eleven-year-olds who most definitely have never used differential calculus or number theory before. They're probably going to have grammar quizzes in his English class instead of five paragraph in-class essays. Tim can fail most of his tests and it won't even matter in the long run because nobody even checks middle school grades.

All of a sudden, Tim sympathizes with Damian. The worst part is, reality is finally kicking in and the smartest people in the room are going to be teachers, who most definitely are going to treat him like a genius at best and a traumatized, overly intelligent child at worst (he has never understood Damian so much).

Tim can barely remember the name of his sixth grade friends, or if he ever had any. In fact, Tim has no idea what his classes are or where to find them.

Tim is pretty sure it’s ridiculous, how much time he spends on not researching current events. He’s from the future. He should know everything.

–

Gotham is horribly, terribly, alive. It’s the city he fell in love with, like every other Robin before and after him. In truth, Tim almost forgot his camera before leaving (rookie mistake, even his younger self would’ve caught on), because it’s been so long since he’d gone birdwatching. 2XXX. It’s a Saturday. Batman probably would swing through the Bowery first, then through Crime Alley, and then turn at East End, make a loop through Somerset, then go to Old Gotham.

Tim grabs onto a ladder, quickly swinging himself up onto the roof with a quiet ‘oof’. His footsteps are far too loud for his liking, but it was unlikely anyone would come and investigate– it was Gotham, as long as he didn’t go breaking into buildings, nobody cared. Quietly, he settles behind a packaged unit, adjusting the lens of his camera. Then, he settles in for the long wait.

Not before long, Batman comes swinging across with Robin– Jason. He’s not as acrobatic as Dick, but certainly just as efficient. Tim presses down softly and the camera clicks, the sound hidden among the rest of the nightlife.

He only gets a few other pictures that night, but his favorite is Batman and Robin, standing side by side, a wide smile stretched across Jason’s face as Bruce puts his hand on his shoulder.

It’s an achingly wondrous expression on Jason’s face.

–

All too soon, the week comes to an end and Tim has to order a taxi to bring him back to school. Annoyingly, it makes Tim extremely twitchy, so he spends most of the time trying not to vibrate out of his skin, forcing a steady stream of words out of his mouth to distract himself. It sort of works, and Tim is pretty sure that the taxi driver is reluctantly charmed and hopefully not annoyed.

At this age, Tim’s computer is still one of those big, chunky, plugged-to-the-wall, takes-forever-to set-up-type of computer, but at least he has one. It does not make him incredibly annoyed. It only takes a few minutes to open it, and by the time Tim is connected to the internet, his head is buried into his arms, burying a scream.

Everything burns, in the worst, most horrible way possible.

Tim gets back up anyways.

a/n: some introspection before we get into it! this also came out horrifically later than i wanted to lmao but i hope y'all enjoyed. :) i’m taking a hiatus after this, so posts will be sporadic (even more than before haha) but yeah.

#tim drake #batman #dc #red robin #dc tim drake #time travel #the moon will sing au #my fics #plot bunny spinoffs #my writing

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p4nishers · 8 months ago

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vimes realizing he's in love with vetinari. now that. hmm. listen. how long it took for him to ACTUALLY fall in love with sybil? oh he liked her, he loved her SO much, but he wasn't IN love with her till jingo. he just thought he was in love. (that doesn't mean he loved her any less or that their love is any less, it means he didn't know her, didn't really have the time for her till he made it so. till he wanted it. really, truly wanted it.) but what would it take for vimes to realizes he's in love with vetinari? well, to be honest with you, not one damn fucking thing. like vetinari's is quite literally the thing he's the MOST stubborn about. he only starts to begrudgingly like him in fucking THUD! that's the SEVENTH book in the watch series. like my man is NOT here to play about his feelings (or, what he'd like to think, the lack thereof) for vetinari. so, what would it TAKE??

another attempt on vetinari's life? this time a SERIOUS one? or vetinari ACTIVELY saving someone sam loves? like young sam? would that. would that ever happen and how would vimes feel about it?? or would it be bc of some kind of jealousy?? or or or OR WHAT

like this is driving me insane i cant fucking figure it out bc there's no universe for me where sam vimes isn't freakishly in love with his boss but how the actual FUCK does that happen and how do i get it thru his thick skull that it's happening??? HOW

what if they like go on ambassador shit together like idk to lancre (bc this is me we're talking abt what did u expect of COURSE imma bring the old women into this) (listen. yes vetinari wouldn't ever go bc why tf would he that's why he has fucking ambassadors and VIMES but. just give me this one thing please and thank you) and sybil outright refuses to go bc sam i have Things to Take Care Of and and you can jolly well run along and do your job and and and. right. yup. go on (she wants them to spent time together for fuck's sake what will it TAKE for them to stop this bloody silly dance already she is so so so tired of toxic yaoi. give her a break) and so they go and sam is perpetually angry bc his Emotional Support Wife basically kicked him out of the house and now he has to endure this bloody fucking trip with his boss who he has Feelings that he would rather not think about and vetinari keeps bloody smiling and being bloody cheerful and bloody handsome in the sunlight and– nope. Not Gonna Go There.

so anyway they arrive whatever it's fine but obviously there was some misunderstanding some (willful) spelling error on vetinari's part and turns out everyone thinks the patriarch and his HUSBAND came to the princess's wedding which is. fine. totally and utterly fine. everyone is suupper normal about it. especially since esme is marrying A Girl. wild, right? so you can imagine how vimes is feeling. how many walls has he punched? who knows we can never know (none bc vetinari Raised His Eyebrows and he had to settle for kicking a few trees and almost rolling down the mountain. Gracefully, of course).

obviously there's the There Was Only One Bed trope. obviously there's victorian woman having gay thoughts for the first time yearning (repressed). of course there's the beast (repressed. for now). of course there's a moonlight conversation which inevitably leads to the Slight Softening of Sam Vimes's Heart and the next day which turns out to be Sam Vimes's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day. it's the evening before the wedding. a party. with nobs. and idiotic clothes and vetinari and stares and nosy witches and vetinari and awkward conversations and vetinari and vetinari asking (ordering) him to dance and oh shit oh fuck oh what the bloody shit is this why is the bastard SO GOOD+??!!??! does he practice has he practiced will he practice and want a partner– no. no. No. NOO not happening vimes is perfectly sane and Will Not Fucking GO THERE!!!

anyway of course shit happens. of course it ends with vimes and vetinari trudging thru the forest, drenched in rain and mud and fuck knows what else and both of them have fuck all idea about mountains and vimes is fucking Pissed bc his lordship shouldn't be here i dont need his lordship here this is bloody fucking daft. sir. and he gets nothing but that infuriating fucking smile in return and a "ah, but your grace, i am simply enjoying a brisk walk. i wasn't aware that was crime" and he's fucking COVERED in mud and his clothes are sticking to him and vimes had never actually seen him WET before and there's mud on his CHEEK and his hair is mussed and. vimes walks into a tree. gets tangled up in a few tree branches, perhaps. trips and falls flat on his ass, even. vetinari laughs at him in that way of his where he's not laughing but you can tell, deep down, he IS. and vimes is still pissed. and suddenly vetinari is helping him up and looking at him from up close with that expression of his that suggests he has inside jokes with himself and he. kisses him.

what the FUCK, right? well. surprise element and all that. vimes' first instinct obviously is to fucking fight him. then he's like. oh wait oh what the fuck. THEN he's like. vetinari is actually a good kisser and im gonna fucking faint. Actually. then vetinari pulls away and goes on business as usual like not a thing happened. if vimes wasn't so fucking dazed and tingling throughout his whole body he'd bash his skull in but well. he just stumbles after him and tries to not have a heart attack.

unfortunately he doesn't have time to think about it bc fucking CENTAURS attack them. yeah. it's not a pretty fight. by the time they get back to the castle vimes is angry and tired and his whole body feels like a bruise and he's STILL fucking thinking about that kiss but he's so tired he actively cannot fucking speak so instead of punching vetinari's perfect fucking face like he planned to he falls headfirst into their bed and goes the fuck to sleep. of course when he wakes up the bed is empty next to him and he remembers last nights events and he just looks and looks and looks at vetinari's side of the bed and has this horrible sick feeling like Uh Oh. i would do anything to see how he looks like asleep. how he looks like minutes after he wakes up. the weight of his body. vimes has the weird thought that he's actually JEALOUS of a fucking bed for feeling vetinari's weight and has to go walk around the castle 5 times. while in his drawers. it's...he could've been more diplomatic about it, is all.

so he spends the whole day in this out of body shock and avoids the fuck out of vetinari and instead goes to do literally anything he can. he talks to shawn. he talks to hodgesargh. he talks to the princess about love and freaks the absolute fuck out. he tears out every root in the entire back garden in a burst of mania. he walks up and down the mountains. he eventually ends up talking to nanny and she implements her bottomless wisdom on him ('fine lad you got there, your graciousness, wanna share 'im? oh, come on i'm just having laugh no need to be like that. you wanna lock it down, if you ask me, that whole fruit basket is RIPE wink wink') which makes him reevaluate his entire life and walk up and down more fucking mountains.

this leads him. nowhere. he hasn't figured out SHIT. he doesn't even know WHAT he's supposed to be figuring out but it sure as shit something and he has this insistent urge to see vetinari but also he WILL punch a wall if he sees him with his entire Unaffected Self so he goes and roams the halls of the castle and he's going room from room searching for something he doesn't even know about until he comes across quiet voices talking and he looks inside and it's bloody fucking vetinari comforting esme's fiancee, nina, and he just. watches. he never knew vetinari could be so gentle. and it's bc he doesn't have to pretend with nina. she doesn't know who he is just that he saw her struggling with some sewing and he helped and they got to talking and she opened up about her fears for being a queen someday and he was just SO kind. and as sam watches this he quietly, quietly realizes that he's in love. and it doesn't hurt him, not like he thought it would. maybe it will, eventually, but this, seeing vetinari like this, doesn't hurt. it can't.

he walks away before he can be seen (though, no doubt, vetinari already sensed him) and just. goes and has a cigarette and tries very hard not to make a big deal out of it. but it is a big deal. and he cant tell anyone.

so its the night of the wedding, ceremony blah blah blah its all a blur until vetinari intertwines their fingers as they walk down the aisle as guests of honor and vimes' whole world narrows down to that one point of contact until vetinari drops it again as they sit down and blah blah blah its the reception the brides are flushed and dancing and happy and happy and vimes is watching them and thinking of his own wedding and also vetinari vetinari vetinari and then of course vetinari stands next to him and he's more scared than he's ever been in his life and vetinari takes his hand again and it is So Over for vimes. they fucking hold hands while saying nothing and it kills vimes but also it's the most alive he's ever felt and maybe there wont ever be more than this but if he has this he'll be fine. and he is. and they are. the end.

so what i'm saying with this is. maybe vimes just needs a few quiet moments where he can see glimpses of vetinari he hadn't let himself see before and also he needs to be hit over the head with feelings otherwise it wont work. vetinari NEEDS to make the first move bc our dear duke will never. ever ever. he doesn't even let himself THINK he wants it he won't do it unless vetinari Plagues him with the Images.

#is this anything #samuel vimes #havelock vetinari #vetvimes #discworld #gnu terry pratchett #terry prachett #for timeline im thinking hmmm after thud! but before snuff? maybe?

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irondad-creator-awards · 5 months ago

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Previous Winners

Stories that have won in the 2021-2023 Cycles are ineligible for story awards in 2024. Writers who have won writer awards previously are ineligible for writer awards in 2024. The full list of previous winners can be found below.

Previous Winners — Stories

5 Times A Member Of The Team Head About The Kid + 1 Time They Met Him By Orphan_Account

5 Times Peter Fell, And Tony Caught Him. And The 1 Time Tony Didn’t By Eva7673

5 Times Peter Fell, And Tony Caught Him. And The 1 Time Tony Didn't By Eva7673 Missing Links By Spagbol99

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud By Grilledcheesing

5 Times Peter Sleepwalked And The 1 Time He Pretended He Did By Losingmymindtonight

5 Times Tony Dealt With A Loopy Peter By For_The_Night

A Beautiful Lie By Rayrox360

A Parent Apparent By Happyaspie

A Peter Parker Problem By Spagbol99

A Soul's Best Friend By Superherotiger

Ain't My Blood; Still My Boys By Parkrstark

All Good Things Come In Threes By Bergen

And Stay Out! By Iron_Spider

And You'll Blow Us All Away By Losingmymindtonight

Astronomy In Reverse By Pansley

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It By Savana_Marlark

Built From Scraps By Peterstank

Catch And Keep By Bergen

Close To My Heart, Never To Part By Parkrstark

Come My Darling, Homeward Bound By Buckleyirondad

Five Time Faculty Members Had To Call Peter's Emergency Contact + 1 Time He Shows Up Anyway By Kingdomfaraway

Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited By Kingdomfaraway

Good Publicity By Bergen

Happy Hogan Never Forgets A Face By Jen27ny

He’s Just A Kid By For_The_Night

Heir Peter Fics By Onlyforward

How To Fire Your Intern Sixteen Times In Three Days By Bergen

Hydra's Not A Home By Tempestaurora

I Love You More Than Anything Series By Iron_Spider

I Never Knew I Was Broken By Gotmyinkpen

Identity Theft By Kitcat992

If They Knew All About You By Mshermia

If You're Going Through Hell, Keep On Going By Baloobird

Instant Kill Mode By Isn't_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

It's Always Who Is Spider-Man, Never How Is Spider-Man By I_Regret_Thatpersonalityquiz

Long Story Short (It Was A Bad Time) Or Ais Don't Forget By Peacockgirl

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling By Embarrassing_Myself

Miscommunications By Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Missing Links By Spagbol99

No Ulterior Motive By Ob_Liv_Ious_Writer

One In A Million By Inkonmyheartandonthepage

Peter And The Jailbirds By Beautifullights

Peter And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Field Trip By By Cazei

Peter Parker's Home For Wayward People And Animals By Bergen

Prince Of The Forest By Tess_Moon

Put It On Speaker By Onlyforward

Retrograde By Madasthesea

S.O.S. (Somehow Obtained Son) By Madasthesea

So Many Things To Say By Happyaspie

The 1 Time Some Avengers Didn't Believe Tony Was Father Material And The 5 Times They Were Proven Wrong By Thisisnotourlasthunt

The Avengers Vs The Peter Factor By Midnightwolf2192

The First Time Peter Called Tony 'Dad' By Warlock_Writer

The Guardian By Emily_F6

The Guest Room By Niniblack

The Itsy Bitsy Spider By Fatandnerdy30

The Kid Behind The Mask By Inkinmyheartandonthepage

The Long Game By Niniblack

The Lost And Forgotten By Litcraz

The Third Option By Uncertainty_Principle

The World Kept You Like A Secret, But I Kept You Like An Oath By For_The_Night

Things I Almost Remember Verse By Icedaquarius

Very Normal Totally Regular Human Intern By Winterturtle

Wait, You're Spider-Man? By Fritokays

We Forgot Peter By Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Whatever It Takes By Starryknight09

Wrong Number Kid By Blackshadow030930

Previous Winners — Writers

Bergen

For_The_Night

Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Inkinmyheartsandonthepage

Iron_Spider

Sara (Ctsara)

Spagbol99

Spidey-Art

#Irondad Creator Awards 2024 #irondad #irondad creator awards #spider-man #fanfic #art #spider son #fandom awards #writers #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider man

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whumpty-dumpty-doo · 4 months ago

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Whumpmas in July 2024 - Day 7 - Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time!

This post is part of my participation in the 2024 @whumpmasinjuly event!

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Ah, it's hard to pick a favorite! Here are a few that I really enjoyed:

Gallery AU (Keith and Shiro from VLD fanfic) by @trytofocus - Keith is a prisoner in a secret, highly prestigious gallery where subjects are displayed in all manners of artful bondage for the entertainment of rich patrons. Shiro is one such patron. And he isn't nice. (Be warned that this fic is 18+, as it contains adult elements and themes, and is NSFW) Why I love it: God, the mental images are SO GOOD. The way that Keith is treated as a living, breathing, unwilling art piece... the emotions, the way things are described, the care and reverence taken in tying him up and putting him on display, the way that Shiro appreciates him, the attitude that Keith gives... It's so freaking good, and it gives me crazy whumperflies. I wish there was more!

Death Valley (also on AO3) by @ashintheairlikesnow - In 2003, Finn Schneider left Germany for a month-long planned trip around the United States. Somewhere around Death Valley, he disappeared. But he wasn't alone. (Be warned that this fic is 18+, as it contains noncon, murder, and is NSFW) Why I love it: This was the second whump fic that I ever read, and it was integral in getting me into the whumpsphere! I feel SO SO SO bad for Finn, what he goes through, and how he is in his future. It's one of those stories that makes me go "OH NO BB LET ME FIX IT FOR YOU ;A;" but this poor guy has seen and been through far too much. It's brutal. Even the flash forward has me on the edge of my seat and only wanting the best for him. I hope this poor man finds love, joy, and peace.

Brother's Keeper by @darkthingshappen - Ben Adkins' life changes forever when his brother Jake fails to pay what is owed to some powerful men. Will he be able to survive his harrowing experience and return to his family? (Be warned that this fic is 18+, as it contains explicit noncon and is NSFW) Why I love it: Phew, this one is intense! It's one of those fics that made me go "OH DAMN." a lot. I actually had to read this one out of order a bit because (spoilers) thereʻs a recovery arc... followed by a recapture arc. I had to save some of the recovery arc to read when things got too tough and I needed some joy for the characters, because GEEZ. Poor Ben!! Poor Jake! Poor Andrei! Volkov and his guys are sick SOBs and just merciless. Itʻs so whumpy. I had to skip a chapter or two due to some of my own personal squicks, but other than that, if youʻre looking for some guys having a super bad time, this is a great fic for that!

King of The Road by @darkthingshappen - George and Danny find themselves in the hands of a very sick and twisted trucker. What will happen to them as his newest victims? (Be warned that this is fic 18+, as it contains explicit noncon and is NSFW) Why I love it: The trucker is horrible!! An absolutely evil vile terrible sick guy!!! I have to know what happens to George and Danny! Thereʻs not much of the fic yet, but Iʻm frothing at the mouth waiting for more. The brutality is so whumperiffic, and I already desperately want to save them, so you know things are on a good track!

Secrecy by @doomeddestination - A young spy is captured by a mysterious man known only as Shepard. (Be warned that this fic is 18+, as it contains explicit noncon and is NSFW) Why I love it: Calico is such a great writer, and her dedication to her stories and characters is INSANE. This story was the first one of hers that I read, and it introduced me to Ander, who is another character that I simply wish to wrap in a blanket and give tea to and take care of forever. This poor guy just needs a break. Shepard is awful, and the suspense in the story is so great. Thereʻs a whole multitude of AUs and stories that contain these characters as well, so lots of stuff to check out! ... ... ... If Ander never gets to canonically see his mom again, I will riot in the streets. LET A GOOD THING HAPPEN TO HIM.

The Mountain Man by @darkthingshappen - A kidnapper has his sights on a hockey player and sets a plan into motion to get him into his clutches. Why I love it: Getting into the head of the whumper as he stalked and planed his capture was so cool. I loved the confusion and delirium that the hockey player showed, especially when things started to get scary. I think this story was meant to be a one-shot, but Iʻd gladly dig into more of it if it got continued!

Hazel's story by @starrywhump - A group of college students is kidnapped by a sadistic whumper who has no qualms about torturing them. Why I love it: This was the FIRST whump fic I ever found and read! I wouldnʻt be in the community now if not for this fic. I have no idea how I stumbled across it, but Iʻm so glad I did, because it introduced me to whump lingo, whump blogs, and this whole crazy world. I love the characters, the whumper is creepy and intimate, and some of what she does is just nasty and brutal. I donʻt know what happened to the author (the blog hasnʻt been updated in like three years), but I hope that theyʻre happy and doing well wherever they are. I love the fic, and would love to read more if they ever decided to continue!

There are so so so many other great fics out there, but these are just the few that come to mind off the top of my head! Any other fans of these stories out there? :O

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Tags: @whumpmasinjuly-archive

#wij24day7 #whumpmasinjuly2024 #whumpmas #whumpmas in july #deedoo original #text post #whump event #whump events #whump fics #whump stories #whump recs #whump recommendation #whump recommendations #whump community

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tiny-minecraft-rabbit · 2 months ago

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Untitled Soulmate Goose

Or, Joel and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad misadventure for his soulmate. This is Part Two!

Here for Chapter One - Read on AO3 - Next Chapter (coming soon)

Joel was going to, personally, strangle Grian.

It was one thing to leave him alone to hang out with his stupid boyfriend instead of having a movie night with him– It was a completely other thing to leave him alone to deal with a bloody soul-goose of all things. Worse part? The goose was a menace.

The moment the three of them had fully processed the goose in the living room was when it decided to straight up attack him. ‘Charged at him and nipped at his heels. The only thing Grian did in light of the situation was cackle at him as the goose chased him right out of his own house. Now he was being death marched down the sidewalk by a goose, any attempts he made to turn off the path or even slow down was met with a furious hiss from behind him.

It wasn’t much distance to the middle of town– though it was longer than he usually wanted to walk. Would have preferred a bus or a taxi or a trip via Grian’s wings; he had none of these and the goose was unrelenting. By the time they had made it outside of the Jolly Ranchers coffee shop Joel was out of breathe.

He stopped, waving off the angry honk as he leaned against the wall for a moment

“Would you quit it?” he snapped, as the goose rushed him, aiming for his ankles. He shoved down the urge to summon an axe– he might not have planned on finding his soulmate today, but killing a soulmate guide might cause some cosmic retribution in his direction that he did not want to deal with. Though, as the goose got a good nip at his shin, cosmic retribution would be better than this!

“Joel?”

He looked up, sighing a little as Jimmy poked his head out of the cafe, some latte in-hand. His head tilted to the side. Through the window he could spot the bright-ass cyan hair of Scott and the low glow of flames from Tango. Soul goose was bad– getting made fun of by Scott and Tango would be worse. He almost wanted to ignore Jimmy altogether in favor of hurrying down the street.

Jimmy stepped outside and caught sight of the bloody bird, “Joel, what on earth did you do to make a goose that mad at you?”

“I– for fuck’s sake–!” he cursed, hopping away from the goose that snapped at him again and quickly stepping behind Jimmy, “I didn’t upset it! It’s a soul guide, a bloody awful one! It’s been nipping at me for the last half hour, making me walk to my soulmate.”

“Aw! You’re looking for your soulmate?” Jimmy asked with a grin, stepping back to let the goose have a clear path towards him again.

“Not voluntarily,” He replied before shouting as the goose charged at him. He shoved himself behind Jimmy again, feeling massively disappointed when the goose didn’t immediately launch itself at the stupid canary’s face. It merely honked, glaring at him over Jimmy’s shoulder.

Jimmy was laughing as he looked between the two of them, “This is hilarious! When people do soulmate spells they usually do like shared traits or wish for their name to appear on their wrist or like the whole red string thing. Who gave you a goose , of all things?”

“Grian,” Joel grumbled, crossing his arms. “He was trying to summon it for himself and left the mage circle in the Universe-forsaken living room for just anyone to step in.”

“You mean you didn’t watch where you were going?” Jimmy teased, nudging him with his wing like someone would their elbow. “What did Grian need some soulmate guide for? Doesn’t he have Scar?”

“That’s what I blooming said!”

Jimmy shrugged and reached for the door of the cafe, “Well, I have to get back–”

“Please don’t leave me alone with this thing,” Joel, unfortunately, resorted to begging.

Jimmy looked between him and the goose and shook his head, “Not my problem.” Then Jimmy pushed door to the cafe open and slipped inside before either he or the goose could follow.

The goose looked up at him with a murderous glint in it’s eye before flapping it’s wings aiming it’s webbed talons at him.

“I’m getting you back for this later, Tim! Don’t think I won’t!” He shouted as he now had to run from the goose that was fucking persistent.

#joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #life series #trafficblr #double life fanfiction #traffic shipping #eventual boat boys #rabbit writes

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allycat75 · 9 months ago

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You know what I think of when I hear "I had no choice"?

When it is in reference to a rich white male who starred in a billion dollar franchise, I would have to say that you must have made some big mistakes that led up to this horrible choice, regardless of how many people you support or how much your team was supposed to take off the top. You didn't look close enough at a thing that burned your charmed life to the ground because nothing bad had ever happened before (you even said something so flip and callous during an interview about meditation during the "Lightyear" press tour- it was so shockingly dangerous I remembered it as disturbing even when I was still blinded by The Woke Political Avenger persona).

This lack of ability to cope with a bit of discomfort led you into a fantasy world, not unlike the construct your team created of you for your fans as a Disney Prince, living in your own fairy tale. You didn't have to confront some very concrete realities lurking in the shadows, until you actually did, only they grew exponentially enormous in size and in a moment of "Ready, Shoot, Aim" you decided this was your only option.

So do I feel bad? Yes, but not at any commensurate level to what you should be feeling. I am sensitive you suffer from anxiety and I do believe you have a good heart; part of the reason you got into this mess is that you gave too much and trusted too freely, but I also think you have been coddled and shielded from confronting the demons we all face, also contributing to your current demise.

So I am going to try to be delicate because I know you hate yourself (also a cause of this mess), but I am not going to sugar coat (I'm a Sagittarius and I'm owning my brutal honesty, but as my sister sign of Gemini you should respect that).

Your seemingly no choice decision, even if it had been successful to get you a string of plum roles, hurt many people. The teacher who had to quit because she supported a charity. Jinx, the small dog food company who thought they were signing America's dog dad to help establish themselves in the marketplace. Your loyal fans who saved you from a shattering embarrassment, just to be sacrificed as jealous, crazy and stupid for telling the truth. The people of marginalized communities who believed you were an ally, only to tie yourself- first as a boyfriend, then as a "husband", and hopefully soon as an 'ex-husband"- to an antisemetic, racist fat-shammer, making you guilty by association. And let's not forget all of the talented, hard working actresses that deserved a shot at their dreams- much more than your arrogant, immature, lazy, untalented and entitled wifey. They are all collateral damage in your scheme to save yourself.

But worst of all, you have used your family, friends and even your beloved dog to further this lie, over and over. I suspect this has not gone over well and many of these precious relationships are now strained. I am sure they would rather have you happy, present and whole than be treated to all expense paid trips to Disney World. And if not, they are just clout chasers and you should divest of them.

And what did you get? Still sucking hind teat for any roles, let alone good ones. And you know why? Because the same people who convinced you this was a good idea have something personally to gain by keeping you vulnerable and weak, and are the same ones giving you dreadful scripts, if any scripts at all. You are no longer an actor, but a reality TV star working 24-7 and not getting paid. In fact, I bet for every mistake made or engineered, they billed you for every second of clean up. You may have gotten a part or two, but all are a bit dubious in quality, and where before you could draw an audience to a mediocre or just plain terrible film to, at worst, break even, you are now often the reason it is labeled as awful and, unlike the dick pic, there are no loyal fans to save you. You don't fuck around with karma- it is real and it will find you in whatever pottery shed you hide.

I don't expect you to be super human. But you do have an obligation to be human, flaws and all. And right now you are an automaton, who has no clue of what you stand for because you sacrificed all of that for the handful of magic Nazi beans. Until you can get to the bare minimum of a person- maybe provide an elevator speech of who you are at your core- let yourself feel this pain and emptiness so you are never tempted to go down this road again. It is like an addiction and you need to detox the selfish, shallow privlege out of you.

Trust is the hardest thing to earn back and is at the backbone of any solid relationship so if you want it, you are headed for a dark, tough road ahead and you will have to work harder and more diligently than you will ever have to for anything else in your life, with no guarantee of external reward.

But is it worse than what you are feeling now?

#decide what to be and go be it #who are you?#is this who you want to be?#Get some serious help #Just screaming into a void #Karma and hubris are a bitch!

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natasha-in-space · 2 years ago

Note

SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR RIKA TOO OMG?? I could cry fr I’m so happy T T

Ok so, may I request a scenario where X (Rika, Jihyun and Jumin if u can!) are w/ their S/O and at some points they realise they met once in their childhood (?) like one of those encounters that remain impressed in your mind, even as time passes and you go on w/ your life. Idk if I explained it well;;; ofc u are free to ignore this if it’s a difficult request djbdjdbdjsj In any case, have good day/night!!

–🌹

Hi anon!! Rika is actually my third favourite character in mm after the Choi twins, so I'm more than happy to write for her! :D This was a very fun request to write, so thank you so much for requesting something so interesting ✧

Jumin

This was one of those days you just wanted to forget that they ever happened. You woke up late, finding out in a panic that you were late for your appointment, which is why you had no time to eat proper breakfast or even make yourself look somewhat presentable. The feeling of loneliness that inevitably came with waking up all alone without your husband waiting for you right by your side did not help much with the utmost horrible start of this new day.

Jumin was out on one of his business trips, leaving you in charge of his penthouse for a few days. It was becoming more and more rare for you two to part ways due to his job, but this was one of those occasions when your schedules just didn't match. At which you were quickly starting to curse and cuss inside your own mind as you were being continually bombarded with one bad luck after another.

Somehow, you managed to slip on ice on your way to your first destination, had to find out that you were now supposed to wait in line for a whole hour, dropped your coffee, and to top it all off, Jumin's flight home was postponed for a whole 4 hours.

To say you were in a bad mood would be the understatement of the year.

As you finally reached your couch, you practically collapsed onto the soft cushions, not even bothering to throw away your coat or kick off your shoes. Before you could even breathe a tired sigh of relief, you felt hot frustrated tears burning in the corners of your eyes, which, ironically, only made you feel even more irritated. An angry sob wrecked your entire body as you clawed at your clothes with frustrated desperation.

You were angry with the world and you were angry with yourself for bursting into tears over one bad day.

You didn't remember how you fell asleep. All you knew is that you probably cried yourself to sleep, which was a pretty fitting end to the disgusting day you just had.

What you didn't expect was to awake to the heavenly smell of fresh strawberry pancakes that you knew by heart. You shot awake, quickly jumping up onto your wobbly legs and regretting that action mere seconds later.

As you tumbled back onto the couch, clutching onto your forehead all while your head spun in a clear protest to your rash movements, you heard soft footsteps coming your way. And, sure enough, once you opened your eyes once more, you saw Jumin kneeling down beside you, placing a plate of fresh pancakes on the coffee table.

"My love... Did something happen? I was quite worried to see you passed out on the couch like that. You're not sick by any chance, are you?" His words were laced with worry as he reached out with his hand to check on your forehead. You merely shook your head, chucking under your breath at the embarrassing situation you put yourself into.

"No, no... I'm fine. I just had a terrible day, and I was too upset and frustrated with everything to follow up with my evening routine as usual. I knew you were in a plane by that time, so... I may or may not cried myself to sleep?"

Jumin furrowed his brows, obviously not pleased with your answer. Still, he didn't try to scold you or lecture you on what you did wrong. Instead, he just let out a quiet sigh before placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead and caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. "It pains me to hear that... But, I suppose we can't always avoid upsetting circumstances getting in our way. I'm just sad to know that I couldn't be there for you when you needed me."

You smiled, leaning into his warm touch and enjoying the closeness that you missed so dearly. "Don't worry about it. You're here now. And I'm being completely honest when I say that none of it is bothering me now that you're back. Those pancakes smell amazing!"

As you leaned forward from your place on the couch, you felt your hand touch something soft, which made you let out a low 'uh', before you glanced down at the odd object that your hand has landed on. To your utter shock, what you saw was a small plushie of a black cat with a suit on it. Your breath hitched in your throat, as you quickly lifted the toy up to take a closer look.

This... This is just a coincidence, right?

Even though the plushie was soft to the touch, you could see that it had worn out, pointing at the fact of it being quite old. You could feel your heart hammering inside of your chest as your hands have began to shake.

"Y/N? Is something wrong?" You heard Jumin whisper with clear concern clouding his soft grey gaze. Before he could question you any further, though, you pulled the plush cat to your chest, swallowing nervously.

"Jumin... H-how long did you have this toy?"

Your question was followed by a tense silence for a few agonizingly long moments, before your husband tilted his head to the side in obvious confusion. "This...? It's a gift I got from when I was little. I just remembered you mentioning how much you loved things like these, so I decided to bring it out in case it might cheer you up. Why do you ask?"

Your breathing quickened as pieces of the puzzle slowly started to form a clear picture. "...Mr. Fancy-Pants."

You heard Jumin's own breath hitch as his eyes widened in an expression of shock you rarely saw him show to anybody. It seems like you both shared the same thought as he managed to find the right words again. "Where... did you hear that name?"

Your voice trembled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "B-Because I named it. I met a strange boy in one of my classes that reminded me of this toy my parents gave me. So I gave it to him, because he always seemed so lonely for some reason. I called it Mr. Fancy-Pants, since I never saw that boy wear anything but fancy suits and ties... Oh my god, Jumin, it- It was you, wasn't it-?"

Your voice broke on your last word, making all of your emotions spill free. You felt Jumin's own hand start to shake as he took hold of the small plush toy with such tenderness, it looked like he was afraid that it'll break if he squeezed it just a little bit too tight. "...Nobody ever gifted me anything like that before. I thought it was so strange... to gift someone an object that reminded you of them and not want anything in return. I always thought that gifts were supposed to be useful. But... That day, I felt so weirdly honored to receive such a heartfelt gift from someone I didn't even know personally."

He carefully placed Mr. Fancy Pants on the nearby pillow before cupping your damp cheeks into his hands and meeting your lips with his own in a soft and loving kiss that made you melt into him, letting all of your overwhelming feelings ran freely through you, however embarrassing it may be.

"I never believed in fate... But, Y/N, with you? I refuse to think that it is a mere coincidence. We were meant to be. You always made me see the world in a different light. I should have guessed on this possibility earlier. My only regret is that I didn't give you anything in return... But now, I have all the time in the world to give back what I couldn't before. I'll be forever grateful to fate for bringing you to me, my love."

Jihyun

"C'mon, we're getting pretty close now!" You exclaimed excitedly as you tugged at your husbands hand, pulling him along through the grassy field.

Your response was a breathy laughter, while he tried his best to keep up with your fast-paced steps that were now bordering on a full-on sprint. Still, he made no attempt to slow you down or let go of your hand, instead merely enjoying the chance to see you this bright and bubbly. You were like a ray of sunshine, burning brightly with its eagerness to spread the light it loved so much to everyone around it.

Besides, a little bit of workout was just what he needed at times!

"Honey, while you know I love seeing this adorable side of you, how will you even remember where you buried it in the first place?" He asked, looking around the playground and searching for any particularly odd object lying around that could possibly serve as a clue to this mystery.

You puffed out your chest with pride, flashing him a quick wide grin that made his chest fill up with butterflies. "Don't you worry about that, my loyal assistant! My memory is excellent at documenting even the finest of details."

"Now that I beg to differ." Jihyun poised with a playful chuckle falling from his lips before he could do anything to stop it. "I distinctly remember you forgetting where you put your keys just yesterday... Or maybe it's just my own memory deceiving me?"

You were quick to choke on your own words, much to his delight. "T-thats- Ugh, that's totally different! It's a very special memory to me, so I'll have no problems remembering everything I need."

You pursed your lips in deep concentration as you looked over the green landscape, searching for something specific that he just couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly, your eyes lit up with pure joy, and before he could utter a single word, you were pulling him along once again, practically bouncing on your feet. "There! Next to that oak tree! I'm sure of it!"

And just like that, Jihyun found himself digging at the ground with a small pink toy shovel that you two borrowed from Lucy. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty. Especially not when you looked so eager to see the result of all this digging. He raised his arm to wipe the sweat off his brow as the summer heat made itself known the longer you sat under the direct sunlight. "So, what exactly is in that time capsule? I remember doing something similar with one of my drawings, so I'm very curious to see what is in that treasure that we're looking for."

You pased, raising a brow at him before replying. "Huh. Weird. It's a drawing too, actually. Not mine, though."

Jihyun felt his heart fluttering, for just one fleeting moment, before he shook off the strange feeling with one jerk of his head. And just in time for his plastic shovel to bump into something sturdy, signifying the end to your tireless digging. He quickly reached out into the small hole to grab onto the glass bottle and pull it out with relative ease.

You let a celebratory woop, clapping your hands and rewarding him with a tender kiss on the cheek. "Yes! See, I told you I knew where it was! Now, let's open it!"

He could only chuckle warmly as you grasped the bottle out of his hands and thoroughly brushed off the dirt from its smooth surface, being careful so as to not accidentally drop it out of your fingers. Leaning over your shoulder, he watched you open up the so called 'time capsule' with a distinct 'pop' as the lid was finally carelessly thrown to the side.

What laid inside was a small crumpled up paper with a blue crayon stacked neatly next to it. For the second time today, Jihyun felt his heart flutter with a weird feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. Still, deciding to keep quiet for now, he merely watched as you delicately reached inside and pulled up the paper to lay it onto the ground.

And, as you slowly rolled it out to reveal the image doodled inside, he felt his stomach twist and turn at what he saw.

"This is..."

You cocked your head to the side innocently, just watching him touch the drawing with trembling fingers.

"Jihyun...?" You murmured, feeling genuine concern well up deep within your chest at such a strange reaction coming from him. You reached forward to gently touch his cheek, finding him quivering underneath your fingertips, making your worry that much worse. "Hey, are you okay? What's wrong...?"

"This is... y-your portrait. But it... it couldn't be you, it... it's impossible... the one with a sunflower backpack...?"

Time seemed to freeze as you registered the meaning of his words within your mind. A loud gasp escaped you, making you put both of your palms to your mouth in pure shock. You could see your own emotions reflected in Jihyun's bewildered gaze, which only amplified the raging feelings wrecking havoc inside your chest. "Oh my God... Jihyun, how could I- how could I forget something like this-!"

Before you could even think twice about it, you found yourself enveloped in his warm embrace, with your own arms squeezing him tightly in return. You could feel his body shudder with quiet sobs as your own tears dampened the fabric of his shirt. He stroke your head with a trembling hand, whispering into your ears: "This was one of the first drawings I ever did... I thought it looked so ugly, but you smiled at me with such pure joy, I found myself feeling proud of something I've created for the first time in a while. To think that it was you all along... I'm sure that you're a blessing that my mother sent to me. I will treasure you in my heart forever."

Rika

"You never told me you had any tattoos done! Is it okay if I see them?" Rika was practically buzzing with excitement, looking at you with wonder swimming in her mesmerizing emerald-green gaze, which quickly took your breath away.

God... she's just way too cute when she gets excited. And knowing that you're the source of that excitement... Well, it made your chest swell up with pride.

You smiled bashfully, scratching the back of your neck and letting out a few flustered giggles despite your attempts to hide just how much of an effect her antics were having on you. "Well... Sure, okay. They're really nothing special though... I didn't know you'd get this bubbly over them!"

She merely brushed your mumbling away with a wave of her hand, shifting a tiny bit closer to place a quick kiss to your lips that tasted faintly of vanilla and lemon cupcakes you two enjoyed just a moment prior. This was your first anniversary. What better way to celebrate it than to prepare a cozy picnic in a secluded part of the nearby park? You were more than happy to see Rika flourish through her weekly therapy sessions and tireless efforts to better herself.

This time however, she was doing this for her own happiness and no one else's. While it was still hard for her to focus on her own needs at times, you did your best to provide her with all the support she might need. Today was the day you wanted to spoil her rotten, just as she deserved.

Though, you were quickly wretched away from your sugary daydreams by a gentle pinch to the skin of your cheek as your girlfriend raised her eyebrows at you quizzically. "Is there something on my face? You've been staring at me for a while now."

You quickly flushed, stuttering on your own words as you tried desperately to justify your blatant staring. "O-oh, sorry. You just look so beautiful right now, and I guess... I sort of got lost in reminiscing about everything we've gone through so far. I-I can show you my tattoos now, if you want to, of course."

Rika blinked, processing your words inside of her head for a few moments, before her own cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink, making her light freckles seem that much more defined, much to your delight. "You can't just change the subject like that, it's unfair!"

You chucked, returning the favor by slowly taking hold of her hand and bringing it up to your lips to leave a loving kiss on the skin on her knuckles.

"Mmm... Right. I'm sorry. I hope this kiss will be enough to forgive me, my lady."

It seems that you've won in this battle of charms, judging by the quiet flustered squealing that followed suit. She did always have a weakness for hand kisses... You smiled as you watched her ears flush the same color as her cheeks, enjoying this moment of peace to the fullest.

Calming her racing heart, Rika puffed out her cheeks at you. "Okay, now you have to show me your tattoos! That's the least you can do for bullying me with your flirting."

"Fair enough." You shrugged as you took a sip of your strawberry lemonade, before patting down a spot right next to you in a silent invitation for her to join you. Once she did as you requested, you placed your head onto her shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent and closing your eyes to relax completely. "You see, there's actually a story behind my tattoos. A silly one, sure, but it makes me feel happy up to this day."

Feeling her nod, you smiled, lifting up the fabric of your pants to reveal the skin of your legs up to your thighs. Adorning the skin were various small doodles, placed seemingly at random and not piecing together into any kind of story. At least, at the first glance. As Rika leaned down to take a closer look, you continued your tale.

"See, when I was, like, 10 or so, I broke my ankle doing stupid things that kids usually do. I was so bummed about it, that I couldn't stop crying no matter what my family or doctors did to comfort me. I think, it wasn't so much the pain itself that was making me so upset, but the notion of me not being allowed to run around for a good while. And then, this one girl saw me bawling my eyes out with my freshly made cast, and you know what she did? She told me that I had a very beautiful cast, and that she wanted to sign it for me."

You couldn't help but giggle at the memory, paying no mind to the unusual silence coming from the previously chipper Rika that was still laser focused on inspecting your tattoos. "I was so dumbfounded by her suggestion, that I instantly stopped crying. And guess what? She even drew on my cast while talking with me about this or that. I was so sad and scared that whole day, but she made me smile even despite my puffy face and sore throat. My parents were so shocked! So... I kept this cast with me until I had the idea to transfer these silly doodles from it as a tattoo! Might seem kinda sappy, but hey, it makes me happy, and that's good enough for me."

Your only response was silence, which made you tense up with worry as you glanced down at the young woman next to you, only to find her trembling like a leaf with her palm covering her mouth. You instantly shot up on your picnic blanket, scared that you might have upset her in one way another. "Rika? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Your words were nothing but a tender whisper, meant for her ears only as you carefully placed your hand onto her knee. You couldn't help but exhale shakily once you saw the tears falling from her eyes. Though, before you could speak another word, she finally found her voice, however shaky it may be.

"Y/N... That girl... It was me. I know it sounds preposterous, but- But I remember it clearly now... You had a plush puppy with you that you just kept clutching on to. You even wanted to give it to me, but I couldn't accept it because of my parents..." She raised her gaze back to your face, making it known just how sincere her words really were.

Your mind went completely blank as you tried your best to make sense of it all. "W-what-?"

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, your heart starting to beat wildly inside of your chest, your hands trembling from the overwhelming emotions threatening to overtake you any moment now. Still, once you took a second glance at Rika's quivering figure, all doubt left you seemingly in an instant. Your body moved on its own as you quickly shifted closer to her side and emraced her tightly, burying your nose into the crook of her neck.

She felt so fragile inside of your arms like that... As if one wrong move could break her. Yet, you knew better than anyone else, just how strong this amazing woman really was.

So, you just held her as she fell apart into your embrace, feeling your own tears spill onto your cheeks. Through her quiet sobs, you heard her utter her next words in a hushed half-whisper, filled with so much sorrow, and yet, laced with just as much hope. "You know... I was so miserable in that hospital. No... I was miserable wherever I went. But, on that day... I managed to make someone smile. You were so sad, but I somehow was able to bring joy into your eyes. I was so happy... And to know that something I did was so incredibly precious to you, that you kept it with you throughout all these years... It feels like I've done at least one thing right in my life. So, thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N. We were really... meant to meet at the end, isn't it?"

"Yes. We were."

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #jumin han #jihyun kim #rika kim #jumin x reader #jihyun x reader #rika x reader

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ghostenluvs · 1 year ago

Text

Secrets in stone

hullo! here is my fic. can’t put it on ao3 (tragic) so it’s gonna be all on tumblr until i can!

thank you to @ghostshadowmx for the very cool title!

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summary:

Sun Wukong is given a horrible mission by the Jade Emperor, he is to kill the newest stone monkey, or else.

with threats from heaven, and the life of one of his own kind hanging over his head, he is faced with a very precarious decision.

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warnings for: mentions of death and injury to children, violence in later chapters, it isn’t gory, just that it exists. if i’ve missed a warning please tell me i don’t wanna mess with anybody.

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it’s gonna be a feel good-esque story i promise guys. there’s gonna be fighting but i’m leaning into the found family part of it as much as i can.

long post beware everyone.

Chapter 1: first meeting

Sun Wukong was having a pretty good day, all things considered.

He was lounging on the hammock he’d set up on a ledge near his waterfall, having a nice midday nap. There wasn’t anything really wrong, he’d got up and had the same breakfast he always does, peaches, of course. He’d tripped going down the stairs in the cave but none of the other monkeys saw so that’s not too terrible.

Everything was going normally.

So why is he getting a bad feeling? Those are usually indicative of bad things. But there’s nothing going on here.

So why does he feel like he’s being watched?

He gets up from the hammock, shushing some disgruntled monkeys who were hanging out with him. He hops onto his cloud and floats upwards, surveilling the landscape. Nothing seems to be amiss, but the bad feeling doesn’t leave. Maybe he’s sleep deprived?

Nah.

He floats about for a few minutes, just looking around. Finding nothing wrong, he sighs, and turns back towards the waterfall, intent on napping it off…

There’s a beam of light shooting down from the sky directly in front of it.

Of course there is.

He speeds back towards the waterfall and drops down onto the edge of the water facing the entrance to the cave, he narrows his eyes at the light, raising his fists in a defensive position.

Damn, he misses his staff.

The shining beam disperses, revealing a man in heavenly armor, he doesn’t recognize them. They’re holding a basket with a cloth over it, and facing him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in a warning tone.

The man clears their throat, “a message and task from the Jade Emperor,” they hold the basket towards him stiffly, there’s a scroll attached to the handle.

Now that, sets off the alarm bells. He hesitates. This could be a trick, heaven hasn’t contacted him in centuries. What do they even want from him? What’s the deal with the basket?

The man gestures again for him to take it, seeming impatient.

“The scroll details your task. It is of the utmost importance that you complete it swiftly.”

Right, the scroll that cannot possibly be good.

He carefully takes the basket from them, detaching the scroll from the handle and lets it unroll, it reads:

~Address to the Monkey King;~

Inside the attached basket is a stone monkey that was recently brought into existence. Heaven’s court has reviewed the circumstance of its birth and come to the conclusion that if allowed to persist, it will bring unimaginable chaos and destruction to the denizens of the world.

You are to end this being’s life.

Sun Wukong, you are to fulfill the set task immediately. If you refuse, there will be steep consequences for you and your subjects. Keep in mind that this being will likely grow to a destructive power even higher than your own. In the event that it turns against the world and by extension, you, you will be rendered helpless against it.

Make the correct decision.

~Signed the court of heaven.~

What.

“What?”

He must look rather dumbfounded. He is, but still. There’s another stone monkey?! Heaven wants him to kill them??!! They can fit in a basket???!!!

“The letter is clear, is it not?” The man sounds even more annoyed now. The feeling is mutual.

He needs to process this. This guy isn’t going to let him do that is he? Alrighty then, it’s excuse time.

“No, no. It's clear. I get it. Iii just… don’t have a weapon, you know? No staff! Can’t really kill somebody like this without a weapon!”

The messenger looks at him with a deadpan expression, or, just the same expression as they've had on this entire time. Can’t really see much of their face through those masks.

“Retrieve one, then. This task is of the highest priority.”

“Right, right. I’ll just. Go, and grab one. from my weapon stash. I am totally on it.”

He sidesteps the messenger and swiftly hops across the stepping stones and opens his waterfall gate, stepping through before the messenger can get another word in. the water crashes back down behind him, returning to its normal flow.

As he carries the basket back through the waterfall, its weight feels much greater than what it should be. His mind races a mile a minute as he reads and rereads the scroll handed to him by the messenger.

Another stone monkey? How could that be? He supposes it’s possible, he and macaque had basically just popped into existence out of nowhere one day too so is that just how it works? There hadn’t been another in millennia, he’s just finding out about this and now heaven wants him to kill this one or else? How is he even supposed to go about that, not that he’s feeling particularly inclined too, the threat of attack from heaven is no light one.

He needs to think critically about this. Shocker, he knows.

He sets the basket down gingerly, so as to not disturb the kid inside, probably either sleeping or silent out of sheer terror. He hasn’t even lifted the blanket shielding them from view yet. How can they ask this of him? Why? The scroll said this kid was prophesied to rain destruction and chaos in the future, so why outsource the job?

Thinking like this is some random unpleasant chore rather than an actual child -apparently- sickens him,but it’s important to ask the question.

Did they already try?

Nope- that train of thought is worse. Screw it.

He crouches and lifts the blanket on the basket, opening the inside up to the light. The suddenness of it earning a disturbed grumble from the little monkey. They’re curled up in a tiny ball in the center of the basket, now beginning to stretch out their tiny hands in a way strongly reminiscent of a cat, giving a little yawn. The kid then opens their eyes, blinking owlishly up at him, not moving from their comfy spot on the blanket.

He feels that this is going to be an ongoing crisis. For a good while.

Internally screaming, he stands up, pivoting and taking a few steps away from the ACTUAL WHOLE BABY THAT IS AN INFANT OH GOD-

This is not good. How could he do this?! He knows he’s been pretty indiscriminately murderous in his time but this?! This isn’t some random demon who’s inconvenienced him, or a really annoying guy who had it coming, or even an adult in the first place! This is one of the only others of his kind he’s ever seen or heard of AND IT’S A BABY. HE’S GOT SOME MORALS NOW! HE’S CHANGED FROM CONSTANTLY KILLING HIS PROBLEMS. HE CAN’T-

He can’t do this.

He can’t do this. He won’t do this- so what is he gonna do? He needs to get out of this somehow. The heavenly messenger is still outside he can tell, and they’re not going to buy it if he just lies outright with no proof. So he’ll just make proof! Fake the kid’s death and get heaven off his dang mountain. But what’s he gonna do with the kid? Eh, he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

So how do you fake a death here…

A clone won’t work, they’ll check for that and the kid’s aura will still be glaringly obvious. Wait, their power! If he hides the kid’s power and just. Tells the messenger they got obliterated, that might work! Worse comes to worse the messenger doesn’t buy it and he has to fight them, win and… he’s on limited time here, if it comes to that he’ll improvise.

So the most effective way to hide their powers is obviously just to seal it away right? He can do that easy peasy, probably best to change their appearance too… he’ll make them look human. Just seal their power as deep as it can go and glamour over their monkie-ness. Great. That's at least a third of a solid plan! Better than usual anyways.

Alrighty, no time like the present, he guesses.

He takes a deep breath, stepping back and rolling up his sleeves. He holds his hands out toward the small monkey. He steadies his stance, gathering up his energy, and exhales. Then he begins the sealing spell, focusing his energy around the child as a golden aura fills the room. The kid begins to float upwards, cooing at the glowing energy beginning to spiral around them.

The kid’s sheer magical energy is intense, he can feel it flaring up, battling his seal, as if desperate not to be restrained. He feels himself too, being pushed back as the huge force of energy fights him. He squares his stance once more, willing the seal to solidify, increasing his own power output, and in moments the energy surrounding the child is swirling around a final time, before gathering at their chest and sending a pulse of energy through them. In a flash of light, what appears to be a human baby, the smallest bit of power thrumming around them, now basically undetectable amongst the sheer amount of mystical things on this mountain, begins to fall.

He rushes forward and catches the baby in his arms, letting out a sigh at the effort he probably should've expected from that kind of seal. The kid reaches their arms up at him, cooing slightly, before startling at their now furless arms.

They babble a bit in surprise, waving their appendages up at him in as much shock and indignance as an infant can feasibly muster.

He lets out a small chuckle at the face the kid is making, sort of like he’d just watched someone steal his last cookie, but not seemingly mad at him. They had no clue what just happened, did they? This baby had no idea the absolute storm he was about to be in the middle of if that messenger didn’t buy his little ruse.

Ah, crap. The messenger.

He’s going to have to do some acting. Said acting will require emotions. Dang. What does he go for? Angry? Maybe. Uncaring?? Nope. despondent??? Hmmmmm… yeah no despondent works. Just throw on a thousand mile stare and hand the guy an empty basket, tell them it’s done, and to never come here again! He already wants to punch their face in for telling him to do that in the first place so he can either get this guy off his mountain at the speed of light, or punch his face in!

Win win!

In the short term.

He walks up the stairs to his shack and sets the baby on his couch, turning swiftly and running to grab the basket, ignoring the voice in his head yelling at him for leaving the kid alone. He can’t let ‘em get seen now.

He stands in his cave, gripping the basket firmly. He takes a breath.

In,

And out.

Showtime. (gods, he hates this.)

Putting on his best “I've seen the horrors” face, he strides resolutely through the cave and to the waterfall. He opens the waterfall with a stiff movement and steps out onto the rocks. The messenger is still there, hands behind their back.

They nod towards the basket. “Is it done?”

He steps forward and shoves the empty basket into their chest.

He swallows.

He nods.

“I did your stupid dirty work, now leave.”

The messenger takes the basket, now without its blanket. Looking inside.

“And what has become of it?”

It.

He huffs, anger worming its way into his posture. He clenches his fists, looking away.

“Obliterated, nothing left of them.”

The messenger seems to consider this.

A beat. He subtly readies his stance for a fight.

“I sensed it’s aura disperse, it seems you’ve followed through. I shall report your success.”

They then turn sharply on their heel, marching off, before jumping into the air and disappearing.

He counts to thirty in his head, before turning and speed walking back through the waterfall and through the cave, rushing back into his cabin.

The baby is sprawled out on their belly, a hand in their mouth, chest rising and falling slowly. He lets out his most relieved sigh yet, sitting on the couch and setting his hand on the kid’s back. They snuggle into the touch, latching onto his hand in a still very monkeyish way. They shiver slightly.

They’re cold.

That realization snaps his mind into a million different new problems, not all even somewhat related to the small shiver.

How is he supposed to take care of this kid? He knows how to watch baby monkeys but this one is crazy powerful AND is definitely gonna get bigger and more prone to chaos if he and macaque are anything to go by. He’s gonna need to babyproof the cave. How do you babyproof a cave?! He’s going to need supplies, he can make them with his hair for the most part, but what about food? They’ll need a more balanced diet than just peaches and berries, right? Ah crap what’s he going to do for SCHOOL?!?

How did all this drop on him in like. Not even an hour?????

He’s definitely keeping the little monkey, not much he could do otherwise that wouldn’t put them in danger. If they come into contact with magic stuff and/or the seal gets messed up the kid’ll be in real bad danger. And this one is so young.

So he’s going to raise a magic baby. Welp, it’s not like he’s been doing a whole lot of heavily responsible things lately, at least this is the only major commitment he’ll have to focus on for a while.

How does one go about parenting anyways? Nope- not parenting, just watching a small baby child and keeping them from dying horribly until they’re old enough to live on their own! That's totally not just the dictionary definition of parenting. How is he supposed to actually do it though? This kid needs to know a lot different things than the baby monkeys that aren’t made of stone.

Humans make books about that, right? He can just read some of those. Can’t be that complicated! And if he keeps telling himself that, it will most likely become fact.

Probably. He hopes.

He’s gonna need a library card.

He’s still insanely worried about what’s going to happen with this kid, but as they blink open their eyes at him and latch onto his hand, still bleary from a tiring first day, he knows it’s going to be worth it.

-----

next part

#<!3 #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk mk #lego monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid mk #monkie kid sun wukong #monkie kid mk #fanfiction #secrets in stone #<au tag

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true-blue-sonic · 5 months ago

Note

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening!!

🍜 + Gold and Silver (maybe Team Chaotix too if you feel like) for the Ask Game

Good morning! ^-^

🍜 for a story about food

Onyx City, horrible as it may be sometimes, does have some good sides.

Silver doesn't understand her, but Gold appreciates the many ways in which everything is the same, all the time. Predictable, one might even say. Schedules are all but set in stone, curfews are to be followed to a T, surprises and random changes tend to be scoffed at. Ten years of living like that make it difficult to embrace the randomness that Silver and his friends bring without immediately growing stressed at everything she doesn't know. But unfortunately for Gold, the hedgehog had decided she needed to "spice things up a bit" somewhat because Onyx City life was dull and drab, as he'd proclaimed, and many trips to the past had followed...

And sure, Gold has to concede it's not that bad. Silver had made it clear his friends had to be obvious about daily plans and such for her peace of mind, and everyone had been understanding and patient with her.

But one thing she has yet to tackle is the food.

Onyx City is clear when it comes to eating. The Teal Classers and lowest-ranked scientists get exclusively processed algae, and the higher classes are furthermore supplied with protein bars and nutrient pills for better functioning and staving off malnutrition. That makes for three things she's consumed in the past decade. But Silver had been introducing her to cooking... and the Chaotix had taken her to the supermarket... and, try as she might, Gold has yet to get used to all the flavours and the textures and everything inbetween.

Except the people of the past seem just as fussy about eating than she does sometimes, strange as that may be.

"I don't eat broccoli," Charmy pouts, one evening wherein Gold and Silver are over and Espio had done his very best to create a meal with their limited resources. Unfortunately, little children of the past vehemently dislike vegetables, Silver had informed her: and thus, Charmy is dragging the green buds around on his plate with mopey, tragic movements. "It's gross and nasty and icky and gross."

The frustration nibbling at Espio's mind is clear to the sensitive telepath, and probably also to everyone else, considering his face is stuck in a dozen shades of thunder. "Charmy, you need to eat your greens. You too, Vector."

Also the crocodile pulls a face, similarly frowning at his plate of vegetables. It makes Gold almost terrified to try them, if the one adult here also doesn't like them... except Silver for his part just rams a broccoli onto his fork and shoves it in his mouth with a shrug. "Broccoli doesn't have a lot of flavour anyway," Gold gets informed, which doesn't exactly match with the minute twitching of his expression or the tiny mental shudder going through him. "Charmy and Vector are just being babies."

"What?!" Vector protests, the tenrec cowering as his tail lashes. "It ain't my fault it's gross an' nasty an'-"

"You," Silver interrupts with a hiss and his fork threateningly held out in Vector's direction, "are setting a terrible example for Gold. She hasn't had a single vitamin for the past ten years, and now you're going to scare her away from eating anything healthy!"

"That is a good point," Espio nods didactically. "I don't hear Miss Gold complaining about it. How silly, that the person not used to any of this food is less of a nag than you two."

Promptly Gold's ears sink against her head as four sets of eyes shoot towards her. Complaining isn't her style, but she also hasn't even tried the broccoli yet...! "Um," she stammers back, shrinking in on herself. "I, uh...!"

"Go on, take a bite!" Silver urges her, a quiet mental "If Charmy and Vector see you eat it they have to also, and then Espio will be happy!" following.

Oh, of course, Gold grouses quietly on the inside. Anything to make Espio happy. But with everyone staring at her she finds herself forced to jab the tiniest piece of broccoli on her plate onto her fork as well, fighting to keep her face even as she puts it in her mouth. Ugh, it's bitter and soggy...! "It's... it's fine," she meekly manages to bring out all the same as she swallows it, chewing as little as possible. "Perfectly edible."

"See? No need to be fussy about it," Espio nods, a death glare sent to both Charmy and Vector, and the duo grumbles as they dig into their own food as well. "Thank you, Miss Gold," gets thought at her next, Gold merely smiling back awkwardly with a whole plate of broccoli of her own to make her way through now, because changing her mind will be far more embarrassing than just fighting through it now.

Oh well, she can always use the excuse she's not used to eating so much and pawn it off towards the unenthusiastic hedgehog beside her.

That would be a good revenge for getting her into this situation in the first place, heh.

#I don't actually hate broccoli at all (depends on how I eat it though) it was simply the first vegetable that came up in my mind lol #blue's writing #gold the tenrec #thanks for the ask ^-^#Silver wants to impress his bf by being a good guest but unfortunately also he has food opinions lmao

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madmadmilk · 5 months ago

Text

lol why else do i log into this account besides to complain? (idk if that sentence even makes sense lol)

but wedding planning rant below >>>>> ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

basic facts about us/the wedding: my bf and i have been together for 10 years, ya we've been talking about weddings but can't justify the $$$. then in feb we said fuck it, we'll never be able to afford a house lets just get married. sooo we've been cram planning through the year while doing comic/anime onventions for our wedding in august this year, yipppeee!!! we both have huge families, and tbh we don't have much drama between us but (of course) there's a lot of tension between family members everywhere. but main consensus is that we're both well liked and loved, so everyone is happy. (yay!) wedding planning has been stressful and fun, but also kind of made me conscious of things i literally don't care about.

the problem:

soooooooooo i don't want a big wedding party (but my mom wants me to give every single family member a role in the wedding -- no.). so i have a party of my sister, two close cousins, and a very good friend. yay? right!! should be, YAY, right???????

hm, so last week, i noticed that one of my cousins, we'll call her cousin A, hasn't really been replying or seen in a month? so that was like weird, and i've noticed some weird stuff but like... idk the world doesn't revolve around me (or my wedding) so I just assumed that life was being life, and gave space.

well.

suddenly cousin A's mom blocks and unfriends most of my family across social media. (cousin A's dad is my mom's sister etc they have a lot of sisters) then everyone goes ???

even i'm like ??? cos i'm still on their friend list.

THEN, cousin A tells me she has to tell me something...

she says that her parents are struggling, and that she hasn't spoken to her dad in a month (my maternal uncle? idk if i phrased that right). and of course, life is life-- i have no judgment, only sympathy for everyone. BUT that means that she and her mom cut off everyone in my family..... because they don't want her dad to spread rumors etc, and don't know who has been told what...

cousin A and her mom wish to disappear from our lives.

???????????

like i said before, life is life, i can't understand their situation-- i dont' know all the sides, but i have immense sympathy for the situation. obviously i dont' want people to fight, i want people to be happy and able to live their lives to the fullest.

so---- though this is not the most important part>> she says that she and her mom and family will not attend my wedding. she's unsure of being there because she doesn't want to face questions and scrunity.

i understand.

i'm just horribly sad over it.

of course i didn't write all the details, but i'm just so sad over this. cousin a is like a sister to me, and i have a horribly hard time getting close to people. i'm so introverted and terrible at keeping up, and i haven't always been the most present for her but.. it just makes me really sad to watch her pull away.

a selfish part of me wishes she could just be there for me, but i understand she needs to go her own way and figure things out at her own pace.

just makes me sad.

and worse, i can't tell anyone about this because no one (on my side of the family) know why they've been distant. no one knows that she's said some bad things about them. no one knows the vague-posting they've been doing freakin facebook. it feels pretty irreparable to me, but no one has seen it all yet. then-- cousin A's family is going on a big trip together, just her, her parents , and her BF and she said who knows maybe they'll make up. maybe things will return.

i don't know what to say to that.

i'm grateful that she called me to give me an explanation instead of leaving me hanging, but it hurt my feelings to be told matter-of-factly. of course, this is something that her family has to work out but yeah.

i probably sound so selfish, but i can't even talk to my mom about this. there's too much of this that is not my story to tell or talk about. too many unkind words said, over something that might... return to "normal." kind of just feel miserable about it.

i wish there was an easy solution, i wish there was a way for ME to just.. be understanding and chill out but it's just sad. i'm not good at keeping secrets, or sitting still. but i'm trying to just focus on myself.

we'll see what happens.

people are going to ask me questions soon, idk what to tell them.

if things turn out to be "okay," then "great." i'll just have some lingering bitterness.

yippee!

TL;DR: one of my bridal party (a cousin), is in the middle of excommunicating my family (over internal family matters)-- thus dropping out. of course it is sad and distressing, i'm trying to be understanding. i'm sad i'm losing a sister, and that she isn't choosing me.

^lol that makes me sound terrible tbh haha. like i said, lots of stuff can't be said but yeah... just sad. i'm literally not going to fill her spot, because doing so would make me feel worse. i'm too sentimental.

#UUGHGHHGHUDRAAHHHHHHHH #i wish i weren't so sentimental #also i love being a pillar of support to my entire family but even i don't know what to say about this....#personal #madmadmilk #drama #long post #don't read

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whatisbirds · 5 months ago

Text

Limits of an Invitation

After a near-fatal shop accident, Eliza Danielson is ripped from death's maw by her theater's carpentry head. In exchange for a swift recovery she forges a bond that swiftly entangles her with the precarious politics of her university's unlife scene. Anatol Stamatin, a builder of many mediums, is just happy to have a sympathetic ear. After all, the nights stretch long and lonely when fasting to break a vaulderie spanning centuries.

Heyhowdy! So I've been working on this fic based on a Tzim ancilla PC of mine since about January, and it's finally polished up enough for me to feel comfortable publishing it! First chapter can be read on Ao3 here: Mrs. Danielson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lathe Aiming for a bi-weekly publishing schedule (Every Thursday/Friday) and as it stands it should be somewhere between 8 - 10 chapters long. (For folks who prefer to stick to the blog, the chapter is posted below the cutoff)

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

It had been a slow night in the shop. It always got dead at the end of the semester, students preoccupied with wrapping up finals and productions going dark for the winter gap between fall and spring terms. Oftentimes Eliza would find herself alone at her paint station, her footfalls reverberating through the whole of the loading dock whenever she had to grab whatever scrap or tool her project called for next. As lonely as it was, the insectile skittering of her brush echoing back to her provided a company that her studio apartment lacked.

But tonight she had not resigned herself to the paint rack. Earlier in the evening, while fetching fresh water to clean out her brushes, she noticed the shop manager’s office was not only unlocked, but empty. In plain view, hanging off an uneven line of nails, were the keys to every piece of equipment currently locked in the machinery cage.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, her mother would always say.

Eliza had hoped that, wherever Mr. Stamatin had fucked off to, it’d be for more than five minutes. Upon checking, she spotted his Impala was parked in the same far corner it always was, the mirror opposite of her baby blue Fortwo nestled next to the dock entrance. Her assumption had been he was in the building, but tied up in a faculty meeting or some other administrative business. Whatever it was, she had hoped to seize this window and be done before he returned.

But she had forgotten a key part of the equation–her rotten ass luck.

The second the cage unlocked, she might as well have tripped an alarm because she found herself in his long shadow in no time.

“Ms. Danielson?”

She slipped the keys into her tote as she turned to face him, “Oh, hey Mr. Stamatin! I didn’t know you were still in today.”

“I’m always ‘in’ .” Mr. Stamatin stood a full head taller than Eliza, as well as the vast majority of the students. A fact that left every interaction with him, no matter how mild, with the distinct sense of being lectured by a parent. “I will ask again– what is it that you are doing ‘ in’ the cage, Ms. Danielson?”

“I, uh, was just gonna fire up the lathe for an end table I’m working on.”

“You are aware you need to check keys through me, are you not?”

“I am aware.” Eliza chewed the inside of her cheek as her gaze drifted past him and to the cage door behind him. Between that and the closed shop doors, she had no idea how he had managed to sneak up on her. Doing her best to bite back a frustrated frown, she looked back up to him. “I was in a rush and you weren’t in the office. I wasn’t sure when you were going to be back so I figured I’d go ahead and set up while I waited.”

There was no telling if he bought this little half-truth–she’d have better luck getting a read off one of the wood planks than Mr. Stamatin. “...I see. Well. I would be happy to assist now that I have returned.”

“Awesome!” She said, feeling the opposite. He propped the cage door open and helped her guide the heavy machine out of storage and to its designated spot.

As vague as it might be, there was a reason hardly anyone in the department fucked with the aloof shop manager. Every conversation with him was a struggle no matter what angle he was approached with. She assumed English wasn’t his first language with how often he’d clip his sentences down to the bare essentials–simple, direct and sharp. Though he clearly had enough of a grasp to understand what was said–she also doubted the university would hire someone who wasn’t at least partially fluent. Regardless, he left many a freshman ego wounded with nothing more than a single word or observation… and his curtness only worsened with the grads.

You could not design a more intimidating Russian.

He held his hand out expectantly. “Keys.”

“Pardon?”

“The switch keys. You have them?”

She sighed as she reached into her bag and tossed them over. I’ll make copies another time. “Oh, right. Here ya go.”

“Thank you.” He turned the switch over and the indicator light blinked to life. A low electric thrum confirming the lathe was powered and ready to go. “Do you need lumber?”

“I got it covered, thanks.” She set her tote down and unloaded the four 2’2 pine boards poking out the corner of the bag. Their edges were beginning to splinter–they’d been knocking around the passenger seat of her car for a little too long–but a perfect fit for the drawer she already had built out.

Mr. Stamatin’s brow furrowed. “...that is softwood.”

“Yeah. It’s cheap.” Eliza began loading one of the planks into the lathe. “Why?”

“Hardwood is better for turning. Also–forgive me–” He apologized before taking one of the planks, running a finger along the splintering edge, “You see this? This fray? Whatever you carve, will fray the same way. Your table will not last.”

“...it’s what I had around.” Eliza mumbled as she clamped the board down. “And it’s a gift for my mom, I’m not selling it or nothing. I don’t think she’ll mind if it gets a little worn. Actually I think she might prefer it that way.”

“I can cut you some maple.”

“...I mean. I already made the top. It’d look mis-matched.” Eliza’s frustration was beginning to peek through as a tight tenor underscoring her speech. “And I already have it loaded in. So–”

“No. Nonono. Eliza, I expected more from someone of your talent–this is shoddy. Especially for a gift.” Mr. Stamatin ‘tsked as he pulled the key from the power supply, cutting it.

“Uh. Thank you?” This was the first time she’d heard anything resembling praise from him–not just directed at her, but at anyone, period. Backhanded? Yes. Flattering? Also yes.

“You are welcome.” He pocketed the key. “I will fetch the maple. Be right back.”

He disappeared around the corner into the loading dock, and Eliza sat down on a nearby stool with a sigh. Huh. This was… weird. Sure she had only been in the program for about a year and a half, but she felt like she had at least a general sense of who Mr. Stamatin was. She’d met his type time and time again in undergrad– reserved, a harsh perfectionist. Prone to hyperfixation so intense it turns his projects inside out. He had spoken to her maybe once… twice unprompted over the two and a half months she worked with him on that Endgame set? Hell, she didn’t even know his first name. He never shared it and on the university website only listed him as “A. Stamatin”.

But now suddenly he’s playing at being her mentor? Fuck off.

She checked her phone.

11:45. December 23rd, 2014.

Two missed calls from “Maw”.

Three new texts from “Maw”.

Eliza’s heart remained firmly sunk into her gut as she pocketed her phone; she was almost relieved when Mr. Stamatin returned. He handed her four 2’2 planks and the lathe key. “There. Hardwood makes for better furniture. Pine is better suited for sets.”

“...Thanks.” Eliza got up and began to load the first leg into the lathe “So… you’re staying in town for Christmas?”

Mr. Stamatin took her spot on the stool, watching over her shoulder as she powered up the lathe. “I am. Yourself?”

“My mom lives in Des Moines. So, at this point, yeah. No point in leaving now.” She shrugged as she finished fastening the plank into the machine. “You got family anywhere?”

“We’re all local.”

Eliza scoffed. The man had an accent thicker than pine tar. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He did not.

Eliza sized him up for a beat, frown weighing the corner of her mouth. It was only now that she really got a good look at him, and noticed that… he kind of looked like shit. His skin was sickly pale, dark circles well defined below his eyes. If he told her he had not slept in a week, she’d believe him. However there was nothing in his stature that implied impairment, his posture was straight and his hands steady. Maybe it was just the shop lights? “You’re local?”

“Not local- local. I did not grow up here…” He trailed off, his mind elsewhere. “It’s a long story. What matters is this is where they’ve settled. Now a question in kind: how long have you been working as a carpenter?”

Eliza shrugged as she watched the lathe gain momentum. “Four years professionally, eight years if you count the work I did in undergrad.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh boy, do I.”

Mr. Stamatin snorted, “Passionate.”

“It’s almost midnight on christmas eve, I’m tired. I don’t really have the bandwidth for this, I just want to get it over with.” Eliza took a step back as she scrolled through the measurements she sketched out on her notes app. “Sorry. You’re making small talk. I’m being an asshole.”

“You are. But I get it.” Mr. Stamatin paused again, a consideration. “I’m playing teacher while you’re clearly crafting an apology.”

“An apology?”

“It’s christmas eve. You’re hundreds of miles from home. Your phone’s been buzzing in your pocket and you barely bother to check. Trying to not think of your mother, sitting alone in the dark this holiday?”

Eliza turned to face him, taken aback. “How old are you?”

“Thirty.” The number hit the ground between them with a thud, utterly detached.

“You talk like my grandpa.”

Mr. Stamatin leaned back in his stool, clearly thinking he struck a vein. “Does he chastise you for ignoring family calls?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me since I started grad school despite us sharing space and equipment six evenings a week for over a year. You have not earned the mileage to be this fucking petty with me, I don’t care if I stepped on your toes or whatever by taking the keys.” She turned away from him and pocketed her phone, stepping back to the lathe. “You don’t get to talk to me like I’m five.”

The stool scraped across the concrete as he stood abruptly, “Eliza–”

“First name basis already? When it’s only been a year and a half? You’re rushing me, Mr. Stamatin–” Eliza didn’t get to complete that thought. She had been reaching over the lathe–first mistake. She had left the spindle gouge on the table and had went to grab it when suddenly her sleeve–and her arm–was yanked down into the headstock spindle. She should have taken off her sweater, but it was frigid in the shop so she hadn’t. That was her second and far more fatal mistake.

She heard her bones snap before she felt it.

Her right hand folded, twisted and tore in a wash of undefined, white-hot pain. Pain that screamed up her arm almost as fast as the limb itself was fed into the machine’s momentum. Instead of the sawdust and cold concrete of the shop she swore she smelled the feet-deep peet of prairie, the putrid-sweet smell of sweat and the salt-licking bees it attracted. Woodrot and moss, earthen morels and creek-dampened locust-tree shade.

Eliza’s short life overwhelmed her–the final buffer before the churning force of multiple tonnes subsumed her.

But it never did.

What felt like a molten rod drove beneath her shoulder blade and with another, definitive CRACK she was no longer being pulled into the lathe but away. She felt something– a hand? Who’s hand? --pressing and pulling where the agony had localized in her shoulder socket as she felt her back press up against another body before she was spun around.

“Look at me.”

Eliza’s gaze drifted, her vision swimming. A vacant, distant part of her recognized the various landmarks of the shop–the bay door, the prop cubbies, the wall where the unused stage lights hung and the plastic tub of unsorted gobos languishing beneath them–but it was all stained. Tinted. She felt like she was looking through stained glass, into somewhere else, somewhere far off. Pain twinged through her torso as she felt the hands on her shoulders shake her.

“Look at me.”

Her reptile brain snapped to attention, her eyes snapping up to meet Mr. Stamatin’s. It was surreal, seeing any emotion there, especially the mix of terror and panic that kept his gray eyes wide and his cheeks colorless. He held a finger up between them, and her eyes tracked its movement without issue. “Eliza. You should sit.”

The lathe was still whirring in the background. It was only then that she registered what felt like warm rain pattering against the back of her neck. With her remaining hand, she reached back and dipped her fingers into the moisture, looking down to see blood smeared across her fingertips. Her blood. Her blood was still being sprayed out by the lathe.

Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but only bile came out. One violent retch shook her body as the acid stained the fronts of both of their shirts. The last thing she saw before knees gave out was a bit of knitted scrap unspun on the floor between them.

The remains of her sweater sleeve, drenched in blood.

****

When Eliza came to, she was laid out across a cot.

Bleary-eyed, she squinted against a bright light of a surgical light haloing her. The hospital…? The smell of alcohol and disinfectant hung heavy in the air. A dull headache thrummed in time with her pulse as her gaze drifted to the IV taped to her arm, tube coiling dull crimson from the crook of her elbow to the transfusion bag. Further down her arm, a leather strap cuffed her wrist to the surgical bed–not that she was in any position to move her arm. Stare at it all she liked, she could not will it to move. Anything from twitching her finger to rolling her shoulder. Alarm as dull as the throbbing between her ears rolled over her as her mind reach out to the other–

A wash of blood drowned her senses.

Whirring machinery.

Snapped bones.

A scrap of sweater wetly slapped at her feet.

Nausea rolled over her. With an empty stomach she was left to wrestle with dry a heave as she struggled to shove the memory out of view as quickly as possible.

It’s gone.

I’m never working in a shop again.

“Awake?”

It took great effort, but Eliza was able to turn her head toward the voice. Flush beside her bed was a stainless steel worktable with what she assumed was a mannequin arm laid across it. Mr. Stamatin was hunched over it as he fiddled with its wrist. She had to clear her throat to find her voice. “...yeah.”

He did not look up. “Good, good.”

“What… happened? Is this the hospital? What…” Eliza trailed off as she felt her heart pick up pace, the pressure in her skull increasing. Fuck. She sucked in a shaky, steadying breath. Grateful for whatever IV cocktail she’d been put on because drug weight seemed to be the only thing grounding her. The space outside of their halo was dim, but not indiscernible. More of what you’d expect from a typical OR– equipment she barely recognized, messes of tubes and bags and lcd monitors. Most of it appeared a couple decades out of date, but not so old as to be unrecognizable.

But mixed in between the islands of sterile surgical steel were more commercial-looking workbenches and organizers. Stations more befitting of the scene shop they shared than a hospital. Squinting past the darkness, she could swear she saw five… maybe six ornately carved wood panels lined up along a far wall–and if she focused she could smell sawdust underscoring the sterile sharpness of the cramped room.

Mr. Stamatin took a few moments to wrap up his work before pulling away from the arm, directing his attention fully on Eliza. She hadn’t noticed before, but despite the clear cut and peeled back skin around the carpal bones, he held no blade or tool in his hand. He wasn’t even wearing gloves–his bare fingers shone bright red in the lamplight. “You are in my surgery. Your sleeve was pulled into the lathe, along with your arm. Thankfully the rest of you did not follow.”

‘My’ surgery? “...is that my arm?”

“Not the original. That was irrecoverable. However, I happen to have a spare that should substitute just fine, with a bit of tailoring.” He turned back to his work. The tips of his fingers peeled back to reveal bleached bone tips, sharpened to fine points which easily manipulated the fine bands of tissue of the substitute hand.

Eliza blearily blinked past this, squeezing her eyes shut until she saw stars and looked again. The bare bone was still there, still fraying away loose tendon string. Okay. Cool. Meanwhile, Mr. Stamatin’s words glided across the IV-glossed surface of her brain like a skater on fresh ice. Lost an arm but don’t worry. You’re getting a new one. As you do. “It looks dead.”

He nodded. “It is. For now. Once it’s attached to your circulatory system it should start waking back up– expect pins and needles for at least the first 12 hours, if not a full 24. Should be indistinguishable from the old one within the month.”

“Where did you get it?”

Silence. A small smile. “You are taking this in stride.”

“I’m so fucked up I can’t even move. Not much of a choice.” Eliza’s attention turned toward her legs. With some effort, she was able to wiggle her feet around but not much else. “What am I on?”

“A cot.”

“Drugs. What drugs am I on?”

“A cocktail of barbiturates, saline solution and blood.” He glanced up at her, “would you have preferred I held off on the painkillers?”

When Eliza tilted her head back, the muscles in her neck seized painfully. Maybe he hadn’t given her enough. “...where did you get the blood?”

“Self-donated.” He gestured toward his arm, where she could see the tell-tale bruising of a heavy blood draw. “Lucky you, I’m a universal donor.”

Eliza lifted an eyebrow. “Was the arm self-donated as well?”

“...well, I had it on hand and am giving it to you. So, technically, yes.”

“Who’s arm is it?”

“No one you know.” He cracked his knuckles and leaned back, admiring it. “And its originator gave it to me freely, so you can let your conscience rest. No mutiny from this one.”

Eliza’s heart was shrieking in her chest, but she felt a part of herself nodding along. Maybe it's a dream? And if it isn’t… that arm looks pretty goddamn real, and fresh. She thought back to an uncle of hers that had his pointer finger lopped off by a butcher knife, how they iced it and stitched it back on. Less dexterous, a bit more pale, but functional. He seems stable. Like he knows what he’s doing… I think. She let her head fall back onto the cot with a sigh. “...are you, like, a med school dropout or something? Is patching people up a hobby of yours?”

Mr. Stamatin stood, looping around to the cot’s open side. His hands reached toward her butchered shoulder, disappearing from her field of view as she felt the pin-prick sensation of something tugging along the outer socket. “All I ask is for you to trust me. Trust that I will do right by you, as someone under my care. Can I expect that from you?”

Eliza met his gaze. His eyes level with an intensity that honed onto the hairline fractures of her doubt, splitting it apart. Maybe it was something in that cocktail being mainlined into her veins. Maybe it was the shock of the situation. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t as tall of an ask as it should have been. “Again--not much of a choice, is it?”

He sat on this for a moment before turning his attention back to the socket. “How about this– if you aren’t pleased with my work, I will take you straight to the hospital. I brought you here since my home is a stone’s throw from the theater and you weren’t in stable condition. But now that you are stable–”

“--can’t you take me now?” Eliza shifted uncomfortably under the increasing burn of whatever was being done to her shoulder. “Get a professional to stitch up my arm?”

He scoffed. “A surgeon wouldn’t be able to apply this arm.”

“What do you mean a surgeon can’t? Isn’t that what you’re attempting?”

“What I’m doing is something a little more esoteric than surgery.”

“Oh, esoteric. ” Eliza groaned, “just what I want from my doctor–out of pocket procedures from Alister Crowley's big book of limb re-application.”

Mr. Stamatin’s stoic composure cracked slightly, “Oh please my practices predate him by over a millennium.”

“You’ve been doing this for a millennium?”

A wink. “Promise you won’t tell?”

If Eliza had a working arm, she’d have crossed herself. “On my grandpa’s gr–AAAHHFUCK!”

The burn flared out into an agonizing flame, hastily extinguished when Mr. Stamatin pulled back. “Shit. Forgive me, I forgot to sever the nerves.”

“What the fuck?” Eliza gasped.

“Stay with me. Talk. Let’s talk.” He caught her gaze with his own as he went back to work, “Who introduced you to carpentry?”

“Nobody–I watched some youtube videos and improvised from there –fuck! ” The pain flared again then dimmed with a snap–replaced by an unsettling numbness. “This feels like an interrogation. I feel like I’m being tortured.”

“...it does, doesn’t it?” Mr. Stamatin cleared his throat, an uncomfortable beat of silence as he searched for words. “Would you prefer to keep asking the questions? Would that help? I talk, you focus on the mend and listen?”

“Yeah…” Eliza’s attention drifted back to the wood panels. The one closest to the light depicted a tirelessly detailed oak tree, where every branch served roost to a host of different birds. They were difficult to differentiate, fine details bleeding together in the dark. It was a riot of fluid, fluttering plumage and verdant canopy. “Two questions. First: What is your name? Your full one. If I’m going to stay in your SAW basement I should at least know that. Second: If you didn’t go to school… where’d you learn to do… whatever this is? With the arm?”

“To the first–Anatol. My name is Anatol.” He stood, walking back to the arm. He gingerly picked it up, slowly turning it over in his grasp. “To the second–I will tell you on the condition that, should you be happy with your… miraculous recovery, you swear to keep what occurred tonight as a secret between us. On your life. Fair?”

“...fair.” Eliza resigned. “On my life.”

“Thank you.” He sat back down next to her exposed shoulder, aligning the humeral head of her arm with her shoulder’s socket. “This will hurt, but it will be brief. On three?”

A knot formed in her throat as she nodded. “On three.”

He adjusted his grip. “One.”

She clenched her jaw. “Two.”

“Three.”

Ao3 - Next Chapter

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #tzimisce #vtm oc #vtm art #v5 #vtm v5 #Just some monster queers for your pride season perusal #Body Horror #Pretty intense industrial violence #dead dove do not eat

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