#that fic was written as a long oneshot and split right before i posted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jynrso · 1 year ago

Text

some of it remains (but your love is unmoved)

hey all! this is the fic that i've been working hard on over the past few weeks. it's the first fresh piece i've written in over a year – the oneshot i posted a few weeks ago ("not without me / not without you") had a rough draft and outline so i had a bit to go off. this was a completely new story and i didn't intend for it to be this long. . .13.5 and 6k words later, here we are! jyn's experiences are based on my own. i got a concussion about 3.5 years ago and i still get icepick headaches to this day (that i never got before). while i don't get migraines, they are pretty bad. when i was thinking to myself about jyn's role as a brawler, i figured she'd get hit in the head pretty often –– and from that, this fic was born. title from "as it was" by hozier read it on ao3!

Jyn Erso has always had a remarkably thick skull.

Not in the sense that she isn’t intelligent. Rather, ever since she’d learned how to fight, she’d quickly found that she could bounce back from blows to the head quicker than her comrades. Hits that would render other Partisans unconscious usually only dazed her; if she got knocked down, she pushed herself back up in seconds, returning to the fight with her brutal efficiency hindered only slightly by slight dizziness and a burgeoning headache.

As a brawler, with the reach of her truncheons keeping her in close contact with her targets, she’s more exposed than a long-distance soldier. Though her armor absorbs many of the hits she takes, by favoring hand-to-hand combat, it’s not uncommon for her skin to be littered with various bruises and abrasions from hits she’s doled out and ones she’s taken in return. Even with her gloves, her hands often take the brunt of the damage; out of every place on her body, her hands are the most heavily scarred.

But despite her fighting prowess and experience on the battlefield, she’s had her fair share of close calls. Even she isn’t completely unaffected by someone slamming the butt of their blaster against her skull. The scar snaking up from the top of her forehead into her hairline speaks to that; a few years ago, she’d been hit so hard by a stormtrooper that it had not only knocked her out but also needed stitches –– ones she had to do herself without the credits for proper medical care. It had never healed right, the scar angry and raised to this day, but she’d escaped with her life . . . and only a few consequences.

The chronic headaches –– the bad ones –– had begun during her stint in an underground fighting ring, just after Saw abandoned her on Tamsye Prime. In an attempt to earn enough credits to survive, she’d played her strengths to her advantage and fought numerous other sentients for money. Though she’d won more fights than lost, her opponents��usually got in a hit or two; and, with the lack of protective gear, the blows she’d taken had often been more debilitating, especially in the aftermath.

But in the middle of a war, a headache here or there is hardly her biggest problem.

It’s not like she’s bleeding out or has any open wounds. A stim shot usually takes care of the worst of the symptoms and dims them to a more manageable level. And when that doesn’t work, in the years after Saw, she’d hole up somewhere dark and quiet and ride it out for a few days by herself. With her high pain tolerance, she can push through just about anything, even if it means spending a few hours incapacitated.

Her last . . . episode had been right after Scarif. She doesn’t remember much of what’d happened after Bodhi had picked her and Cassian up from the beach but she recalls moments of blinding pain. The agony from her burns from the blast had only just been overshadowed by the splitting in her skull, feeling as if someone had taken an axe and cleaved her in two.

Ever since, however, she’s managed to keep her headaches under control and everyone else in the dark. But with the recent destruction of Alderaan and the move from Yavin IV to Hoth, it’s only a matter of time. With the amount of pressure and stress slowly building up on her shoulders, she just hopes that she’s alone when the inevitable happens, and strong enough to ride out the pain when it comes.

When Jyn wakes, unusually bleary-eyed and out of it, Cassian’s no longer in bed next to her.

The sheets on his side have long gone cold. Faintly, in the back of her mind, she remembers him leaving earlier that morning; before his departure, he’d briefly woken her up with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered urge to go back to sleep. Not recalling much more than that, she assumes that she’d fallen back asleep and pushes herself up into a sitting position.

As soon as she moves, a slow, heavy ache makes itself known in her left eye, radiating back toward her skull. She curses softly, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, hoping that the pressure will help ease the oncoming pain, but to no avail. Even when she presses harder, digs her fingers into her hairline, the steady throbbing beats in time with her heartbeat.

A pit sinks in her stomach. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, the pain of it a distraction. Even though her head doesn’t pound badly now, she knows from experience it’ll only get worse as the day goes on. And if this is one of those headaches. . .

Fuck, and she actually has shit to do today. She and Cassian are flying out in the afternoon for a surveillance and scouting operation at the abandoned rebel base on Dantooine. Bodhi’s swinging by later –– shit, maybe sooner than she thinks, glancing at the chrono and seeing what time it is –– to help her get the ship ready while Cassian takes care of the pre-flight briefing with Draven.

Okay. Okay. She exhales, throwing her arm over her eyes as she lays on her back in the messy remnants of their bunk. It’s not the ideal situation but it could be worse –– she just has to get out of bed and get ready while her pain is still manageable. Then she just has to meet Bodhi, get to the ship, and take off for Dantooine without indicating something is wrong, then find somewhere hidden and quiet to ride it out by herself.

(There’s no way in hell Cassian is going to let her get away with that, a small voice in the back of her mind reminds her but she pushes that thought away for now. Once they get into the air, she can figure out an excuse. She just has to get there first. )

Groaning, Jyn hauls herself out of bed, wincing when the simple movement jars her already tender head. Without bothering to flip on the lip, she fumbles around in the dark, picking up random pieces of clothing they’d scattered across the ground the night before.

In the bathroom, biting back a curse as the cold finally begins to hit her, the warmth of sleep finally wearing off, she quickly gets ready in the relative silence and dimness of the ‘fresher.

There’s a basic medkit under the sink, equipped with bandages, a few bacta patches, and hyposprays. It’s meant for the occasions when either of them has minor injuries but doesn’t want to go to the medbay. Though it’s here for this purpose –– and she knows she should grab something –– she still hesitates. It’s not that bad (yet) and she’s pushed through worse. And there’ll be times in the future when they have a greater need for these supplies. . .

With her thoughts feeling like static, it’s difficult to concentrate enough to make a proper decision. Before she can, someone knocks on the door and shakes her from her daze. She flinches at the sound, wiping a shaky hand down her face as her head protests the sudden loud noise.

“Fuck,” she mutters, rocking forward on her heels and leaning forward against the sink, so far that her forehead nearly touches the smudged mirror. The medkit looms in her peripherals but she ignores it, convincing herself that she’ll be fine. (She’s always fine –– she has to be ).

In a burst of strength, she pushes up and away out of the bathroom, heading toward the door.

“Jyn!” Bodhi brightens when it opens, then almost immediately falls when he looks at her properly. “You –– you look like shit!”

“Thanks, Bo,” she mutters, leaning against the doorframe as she pulls on her boots. “Good morning to you, too.”

Frowning, he rubs the back of his neck as he peers in closer, head dipping down and wide eyes scrutinizing her disheveled appearance. “Well, it’s actually closer to afternoon, now, but –– ”

“Still morning,” she grunts, straightening. The edge of her vision goes fuzzy for a few seconds, threatening to white out completely; she steadies herself on the wall once again and exhales heavily, then forces herself upright.

“Do you –– do you need to go to the –– ”

“No,” she bites out forcefully. Her voice harsher is than she intends but the pain makes her feel brittle, fragile even, and she can’t help but overcompensate. “Just –– I just had a bit too much to drink last night. That’s all.”

Both of them are keenly aware of just how well she holds her liquor and Bodhi is much more observant than people give him credit for, especially around the people he cares about. He frowns, eyebrows tugging together, and while his expression tells her exactly what he’s thinking, he’s also picking up on the hidden details in her own.

But for whatever reason, either her voice or the stubborn look in her eyes, he doesn’t comment on her flimsy excuse and nods instead, perhaps not wanting to put up a fight when it’s clear she’s looking for one.

She doesn’t miss the concerned look in his eye when she walks out of the room a little slower than usual. He stays close to her as if expecting to catch her if she falls, arms nearly brushing as he keeps her pace.

His intense attention makes her uncomfortable, her ears reddening from the unfamiliar notion of having someone care about her. She’s fine. A headache isn’t anything to make a fuss over, and really, he’s making a big deal out of nothing.

“I checked out the ship you’re taking this morning,” he says, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they navigate through the halls of Echo Base. She only half-listens, occasionally offering up hums of agreement as he speaks, but it’s growing more difficult to keep her focus solely on him. “There isn’t too much to do but . . .”

After a few minutes, they reach their destination. When the noise and brightness of the hangar bay hall hit her full force, Jyn sways on her feet, eyes closing as nausea swells low in her stomach. Bodhi grabs her elbow to keep her steady but she just barely feels the touch, the hammering in her head overshadowing every other sensation.

“ ––yn! Are you okay?”

Bodhi’s voice grows louder and more nervous with each passing second she fails to reply. Jyn barely manages to clamp down on her flinch, forcing her eyes open and gritting her teeth as her head protests.

“Fine,” she rasps, then licks her dry lips. Just one more hour, at most, and she can lie down; she just has to get to the ship first. “I’m fine. Where –– where’s the shuttle?”

He pauses, scrutinizing her once again. “Listen, if you’re not feeling well, we can––”

“I said I’m fine!” she reasserts, a bit harsher than she intends. Her head throbs at the raised tone of her voice. She sighs. “Look, can we just –– ”

It’s clear he doesn’t entirely believe her. With all the time they’ve spent together since Scarif, he knows what her normal behavior looks like –– and this isn’t it. “Jyn, you really should –– ”

Her eyes flash in irritation. She doesn’t need to be coddled. “If you want to stay here, be my guest. But I’m going to finish up packing the ship.”

Once again, he must see something in her face that ends any possible argument. For him, this is a losing battle. Sighing, his shoulders slump in the face of her stubbornness. “All right. Come on.”

Leading her to a ship in the back of the hangar, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and pushing down the pain as best she can. No matter how lightly she steps, the impact of her boots against the ground sends electricity radiating up from her legs to her head, a dull thumping that seems to grow the longer she spends in the hangar bay.

She blinks and then they’re there. Almost robotically, she nods as Bodhi’s mouth opens and he begins to talk, only catching the tail end of whatever he says. He gestures toward the remaining crates of supplies that need to be loaded onto the shuttle and Jyn doesn’t bother to respond, turning toward them and setting her shoulders in preparation.

(With her back turned, she misses how his mouth thins, how he reaches out for her but drops his arm after a few seconds. She misses the determined set of his eyes, the way he seemingly comes to a decision before setting to work himself.)

It’s easy to lose herself in the repetitiveness of the task. With only the pain in her head to keep her company, she tunes out the rest of the hangar bay and loads up the ship. At least in there, the lights aren’t so bright and the noises around her are muffled some by the thick durasteel walls.

A blink and it’s done. It’s been –– how long has she been doing this, so lost in her head?

For a few seconds, she stands in the cargo bay and looks down at the crates without really seeing them. Her hands flex at her sides, fingers still primed to hold a box. But then a particularly painful jolt of pain goes through her eye and she hisses, pressing the palm of her hand against the socket. When it eases, her brain recircuits and she remembers her purpose, rocking back on her heels.

She turns to look for Bodhi, not finding him in the cockpit as expected. Instead, when she heads down the loading ramp to look for him, she sees him a few feet away, looking in her direction and talking in hushed voices with Cassian.

Jyn scowls in irritation, hands curling into fists at her side and marching over to them. She has a good idea of what Bodhi’s telling him –– that she’s been acting weird, that there’s something wrong with her, that she isn’t capable enough to go on the mission. All those thoughts jumble in her head at the same, overlapping and intensifying what’s already there.

“I’m fine!” she barks when she makes it over to them, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up in defiance. Her jaw tightens, the muscles in her body bunching up and tensing. “I don’t know what he’s telling you but –– ”

Cassian holds up his hands and Bodhi takes a step back when faced with her sudden burst of rage. “We’re just going over take-off protocol since Bodhi isn’t coming with us on this one,” he explains gently.

Her anger deflates from her as quickly as it’d arrived and she closes her eyes briefly as her skull throbs in protest. Embarrassment at her outburst curls low in her gut but she refuses to let it show.

“Great,” she mutters, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and turning away from them. Her cheeks redden, ears burning beneath her hat. “I’ll be on the ship if you need me.”

If her behavior hadn’t been a cause for concern before, it certainly is now. She hunches in her coat, keeping her head down as she stalks to the shuttle, the snarl on her lips acting as armor to repel any stares from overly curious recruits that she gets on the way back.

Cassian isn’t far behind. She’s only been on the ship for a few beats before he joins her, standing close enough that there are only a few inches between them. When she looks back into the hangar bay, Bodhi’s still there, his body language anxious and worried in the distance.

She scowls, feeling betrayed and like they’re ganging up on her. She’s clearly fine –– she’d gotten everything on the ship quickly and efficiently. What complaints could they even have? When she turns away, she determinedly keeps her gaze focused on her datapad and makes a point not to look at Cassian, even when his presence

Finally, he breaks the stalemate, not bothering to pretend he doesn’t know something is wrong. “Bodhi says you’ve been off all morning.”

“Did he,” she says flatly, her eye twitching. Her mouth twists and she resolutely stares down at the datapad but not truly seeing the words on the screen.

“I’m not going to push you,” he replies steadily, his voice not changing despite the derision in hers. There’s no judgment, nothing but concern despite her growing frustration. ( Stars, she doesn’t deserve him. ) “But if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

If he hasn’t picked up on it, then she must be successfully hiding the worst of her pain. When she turns to face him, she lets a little bit of her raggedness show, exhaustion written on her features. It’s not a lie, not truly, but a misdirection instead. Let him think this is the root of the issue. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

One of his eyebrows ticks up, likely remembering how she’d barely moved when he’d left their bed that morning. He doesn’t believe her, not entirely. But whatever he must see in her face must be enough to convince him that she’s all right for now.

He nods slowly, brows tugging together as he considers her words, but doesn’t drop the matter entirely. “You can sleep once we make it to hyperspace.”

It feels like an order rather than a request but she knows the decision is ultimately up to her. Too exhausted to disagree, the throbbing pain on one side of her head sapping all of the fight out of her body.

Cassian hesitates, giving her a chance to pull away, then reaches out to cup her cheek. She closes her eyes when his thumb brushes against her cheekbone rhythmically; it doesn’t relieve any pain but his touch soothes her, comforts her in a way that only he can do.

“Let’s finish getting the ship ready,” he says softly, and, eyes still closed, she nods once again.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish; apparently, Bodhi had gotten more done than she’d realized while she’d lugged crates of supplies back and forth. Feeling almost as if in a trance with only a dull throbbing pain to keep her company, before she even realizes it, they’ve completed everything else and prepped the shuttle for take-off.

(Dangerous, Saw’s voice barks in her head when she blinks in confusion, her body acting on auto-pilot as she buckles herself in and mechanically pulls on a pair of headphones. Just because you’re with someone you trust doesn’t mean you’re safe. Focus, my child.)

With one last wave to Bodhi, she closes the cargo bay door without another word and joins Cassian in the cockpit. Her limbs feel heavy, eyes squinting against the bright lights flashing on the dashboard. It takes her more than one try to get her seatbelt buckled in.

Numbly, she forces her awareness out of the cave in her mind and does her best to pay attention when Cassian completes the pre-flight checks. It only takes a few minutes –– she thinks, her thoughts feeling as if they’re moving through sludge –– before they’re up in the air.

“Calculating jump to hyperspace,” he says. She clenches her jaw, nods, and prepares herself.

The jump to hyperspace is worse than she’d expected. She presses the back of her head into her seat in an attempt to keep it steady and her white-knuckled hand gripping the armrests so tight she shakes. Against the roar of the engine, she inhales and exhales short puffs of air, eyes squeezed tight. It feels as if her brain is rattling against her skull, sharp pinpricks of pain hitting her through the eye in full force.

One particularly bad pulse through her head has her biting down so hard on her tongue that she draws blood. The sharp sting at least provides a distraction, the coppery, metallic taste now filling her mouth becoming something to latch on to other than pain.

But it’s getting more and more difficult to keep herself together. The combination of the lights, the noise, and the jerky movements of the shuttle around her have flayed her control almost entirely. She can’t do this, she can’t do this, but she has to, she has to keep it together for just a few more secon––

The ship stills.

The only sound in the cockpit is her sharp, rapid breathing that she struggles to quiet and the hum of the engine underneath her feet. Though she can’t see him, she’s acutely aware of Cassian at her side. She hears him take off his headset and set it down on its hook above the dashboard, then hears the creak of his seat as he turns, presumably to face her properly.

Hears the low, comforting sound of his voice when he tentatively asks, “Jyn? Are you okay?”

“`m’fine,” she mumbles after a beat, her brain taking longer than usual to comprehend his words properly. Even though it’s very clear that she’s not, she can’t quite abandon the ruse just yet, still hanging onto rapidly disappearing threads of composure. “Just. . .”

She trails off, swallowing down a wave of nausea. In the silence that follows, her stomach churns, due both to anxiety and her migraine; if she moves, even slightly, she’s going to throw up all over the floor. To tamp down on that, she focuses on her breathing: ragged inhales that catch before they make it to her lungs.

Cautiously, she cracks her eyes open, just a slit, to see Cassian leaning forward in his seat, gaze tight with worry. His fists are curled against his knees, his body tense with the effort of not reaching out to her. She imagines he wants to check her over himself and see what’s causing her pain but not without her permission.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. She can hear the desperation in his voice, likely compounded by the fact that he hadn’t pushed her to tell him what’d been wrong earlier. “Jyn, please. Did someone hurt you? Are you––”

“Fine,” she cuts him off weakly, ignoring his growl of frustration at her protests. He’d reluctantly taken her by her word earlier but that’s not going to work anymore. The ruse is up; it’s so incredibly clear that she isn’t fine, the jump to hyperspace having rattled something loose in her brain. “It’s. . .”

She pauses, licks her lips, then decides –– what the hell. She can’t physically keep her walls up much longer. Her eyes flutter close, the pressure in her head abating only slightly with the lack of light. Finally, she says, “My head.”

“Did you fall? Jyn, let me check––”

“No,” she swallows, fumbling with her words. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, her thoughts slow and sluggish. “It’s –– it’s a migraine. I think. I, um, get them. Occasionally.”

When Cassian doesn’t reply, she opens her eyes to see what he’s doing, feeling nervous and exposed. She watches as he gingerly stands and reaches over her, flicking off the lights in the cockpit and dimming the space as much as possible. While it isn’t completely dark, with switches on the dashboard still blinking, it’s a marked difference from how bright it’d been before. Her breath leaves her in a stuttered exhale as her shoulders relax slightly.

His voice is quiet when he asks, “Better?”

“Yeah,” she rasps. It is. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence passes between them before he tilts his head to the side, in the direction of the back of the ship. Though it isn’t large and not meant for long-term travel, there’s a small bunk room and galley just behind the crew’s quarters. Though he doesn’t say anything, Jyn knows what he’s asking.

“No,” she grits out. She keeps her head still but follows him with her gaze. It’s a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t . . . need to rest.”

“Jyn. . .”

“No.” It feels like her last line of defense. It’s a stupid hill to die on but she can’t seem to let it go, barely clinging to what little she has left. Even though she knows that Cassian would never treat her differently –– and he never has when she’s come to him injured or in the aftermath of a nightmare –– she’s not unlike a feral animal when hurting, flinching away and attacking the hand that tries to help.

He’s seen her at her worst, has held her through it, has seen more of her than anyone in this galaxy ever has. But used to a lifetime of sharing a bunk and never truly being alone, she’s learned to keep her pain quiet, to remain small and unobtrusive in moments of true vulnerability. Cassian and the rest of Rogue One have slowly broken down some of her walls but there are some things she doubts she’ll ever be able to shake fully.

But then Cassian whips out his trump card.

“Please, Jyn? For me?” And if his saying please hadn’t been enough, he adds softly, “My back has been sore all morning. Lay down with me?”

“Just for an hour,” she relents –– barely. “And you have to actually lay next to me.”

His eyes soften. “`course. Come on.”

She stands slowly to try and offset the dizziness that she knows will come, but it doesn’t work. She bites the inside of her cheeks and closes her eyes when it washes over her, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat. For a few seconds, she worries once again she might throw up all over the ground but swallows it down. Fuck, it hurts so badly.

There’s this urgent, wild urge in the back of her mind to cry out for her mother –– she feels like a child again, scared and in pain, and wanting nothing more than Lyra’s comfort.

Finally, when it passes, she opens her eyes again, breathing heavily. Cassian stands a few feet away, one arm outstretched in case he needs to steady her. He’s not even trying to hide his worry anymore; she’d reassure him in any other situation but she’s just so tired.

Slowly, she makes her way to the bunkroom with Cassian close behind. It’s not far, and soon, she’s perched on the edge of the small cot, shoulders hunched forward.

He reaches out and touches her arm gently. That one small gesture eases a knot of tension in her body and she sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “I’m going to grab you some water. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, she doesn’t like the idea of him leaving her sight right now. But at the thought of water, she swallows, her throat dry. Slowly, she nods, her head heavy and protesting the jerky movement.

She keeps quiet and doesn’t move until he returns with a glass of water in hand. Despite the position likely being hell on his back, he crouches next to the bed, offering it to her.

Silently, she reaches for it with a shaky arm, just barely managing to take a few sips without spilling before handing it back to him. He takes it, but not without a small sigh and a look of concern.

“You need to stay hydrated.” As quiet as it is, his voice is still too loud.

Not having eaten anything all day, she’s keenly aware of the hunger and thirst steadily growing in her stomach. But it’s no match for the pain in her head and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to keep anything more than water down if she tries. “No,” she manages. But then, to appease him, she adds, “Later.”

“All right,” he says finally, setting the glass on the small desk a few paces away. A pause. He shifts on his feet, and she’s just about to order him to move from his uncomfortable position when he speaks again, “I grabbed a hypospray. It’s yours if you want it.”

There’s a protest on her lips that dies when he interrupts, anticipating what she’d planned on saying, “We have more than enough supplies. It won’t be missed.”

Jyn licks her lips, then dips her chin in a slow nod.

Cassian’s jaw works briefly, clenching and unclenching before his expression finally smoothes. He knows her better than she knows herself, she thinks –– and they both know how stubborn she can get about soldiering through her pain until the last possible moment. For her to give in now without too much complaint tells him exactly how bad her pain is, what she’d been trying to hide from him all day.

Without a word, he waits until he catches her half-squinted gaze before slowly bringing the hypospray to her neck. She tilts her chin to the side slightly and closes her eyes; her breath stutters in her lungs when his warm hands brush against her skin, looking for the artery.

“Dispensing now,” he murmurs and she doesn’t have the energy to hide her flinch when the cold medicine enters her bloodstream.

The small, barely there movements of her body send shockwaves of pain through one side of her skull. Her whole body tenses, muscles rigid. She keeps her eyes squeezed to better ride out the wave washing over her, ebbing and throbbing; even as she feels the hypospray beginning to take effect, it isn’t immediate.

Now that she’s sitting, with no more tasks left to complete, she properly takes stock of her pain, it feels as if someone is repeatedly taking an ice pick to her head, stabbing her eye socket with each throbbing beat of her pulse. Before she can stop it, a small whimper leaves her mouth before she presses her lips tightly together so no other sounds can escape.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says softly. She feels him brush her cheek with his fingers lightly, then moves some of her hair off of her face. “You don’t have to hide from me, Jyn. What do you need?”

She doesn’t have to do much to convey it. Without speaking and moving as little as possible, she finds his arm in the dark and pulls him toward her. Gingerly, Cassian stands –– she can hear his joints popping as he does so –– and maneuvers himself over her and onto the cot.

He settles stiffly next to her with his back to the wall; at first, he doesn’t move, likely not wanting to cause her any more pain. But as soon as she feels him at her side, she reaches for him immediately. He is, as always, a lifeline for her, an anchor in the middle of the storm. She turns onto her side, curling into him, desperate for some sort of comfort, a distraction from the pain, if only for a few seconds. And even though it must be hell on his back for him to curl over her like this, he does so, anyway, his body a shield between her and the outside world.

Forehead pressed against his neck, her fists gripping his shirt with a white-knuckled grip, he quietly murmurs nonsense into her ear. All she can do is cling to him in a moment of uncharacteristic weakness strength and breathes.

Hours later, Jyn opens her eyes, slowly waking up. She doesn’t remember falling asleep but the combination of Cassian’s presence and the hypospray’s effect eventually lulled her to unconsciousness. She blinks once, twice, feeling a hundred times lighter than she had earlier; the pain in her head has abated to a manageable ache –– still there but not as debilitating.

She tilts her head upward, the tip of her nose brushing against Cassian’s face. He’s in the same position as he’d been in before, curled around her protectively. Still asleep, his face is relaxed, his breathing slow and even.

As much as he needs the sleep, she’s unable to resist her next impulse; she tilts her chin slightly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. It’s short and sweet, lasting only a few seconds; and even though it’s a selfish want, her heart skips a beat in her chest when his eyes open, warm and brown, blinking down at her.

It’s a testament to how much he trusts her that he doesn’t tense upon awakening. Rather, his expression warms, mouth tugging into an indulgent smile. “Hi,” he murmurs, voice rasping.

“Hi,” she repeats, her smile a mirror of his. When he moves to brush his lips against hers again, she meets him eagerly, basking in the afterglow of the morning and the relaxed feeling that only sleep can bring.

“How are you feeling?”

She hums. “Better.”

“Good.” His arms tighten around her, firm but loose enough that she can pull away. She doesn’t. “You scared me, you know.”

She stays silent as he continues. “When Bodhi told me he didn’t think you were feeling well, I didn’t think it was that bad, not when you marched over to us a minute later. But then, after we jumped. . .” he closes his eyes briefly, licking his chapped lips. She wants to smooth the wrinkle between his brows with her thumb. “I thought you would have told me that it was that bad.”

Is that disappointment in his voice? Shame curls in her gut. Had their positions been flipped, she would have felt just as helpless. “I know. I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?” An open question. If he’s judging her for it, he keeps that out of his voice.

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “It’s. . .It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do, but. . .” she shrugs with a shoulder as best she can while lying on her side. “Just habit, I guess.”

A habit formed after years of being alone, exacerbated due to Saw’s abandonment and how quickly her ties to the Partisans –– her foundation of self, her family –– had been ripped out from underneath her. It had been necessary to hide the vulnerable sides of herself for survival, instincts that she hasn’t quite shaken now that she once again has a team she can rely on.

He licks his chapped lips. “Have you . . . seen someone about this? A medic?”

“Once.” After her symptoms had lingered long after a particularly bad head injury, Saw had forced her (not that she had much choice with how sick she’d been) to see one of the Partisan’s medics. “With how many concussions I get, this sort of thing. . .happens, they said.”

Cassian hums. “Will you see one of the Alliance’s medics when we get back?”

“I don’t think there’s anything they can do,” she argues. She can handle it –– not to mention that, with how many injuries those doctors have to deal with on a daily basis, she’d just be wasting their time.

He stays silent but the look in his eyes tells her he doesn’t like her answer. “There might be medicine that could help.”

“The hypospray worked well enough,” she retorts grouchily, cuddling closer to him so she no longer has to meet his gaze. His heartbeat beats a steady tempo against her cheek.

He brushes her bangs back behind her ears, his hand lingering on the side of her face. Perhaps reassuring himself that she’s still in one piece, that she’s no longer in as much pain as before. “To prevent this sort of thing from happening so often.”

She scowls. “It doesn’t happen that often.”

“Jyn. . .” he sighs. “What happens if we’re out on a mission and you’re like this? If –– if something happened to you, I couldn’t. . .” His jaw clenches, eyes flashing at the thought of the hypothetical.

Knowing he’s right –– it has happened out in the field but never to this degree –– she stays silent.

“Let’s make a deal, all right?” She remains quiet, listening. He continues, “You go to the medbay when we get back, see what they can do. I’ll come with you. And then, in return, when my back is bothering me, I’ll go. But we tell each other, all right? When we’re hurting. Trust goes both ways, remember?”

“Trust goes both ways,” she echoes softly, tipping her head back from his chest and onto the pillow so she can better look at his face. Her headache has been subdued to a dull throbbing, a far cry from the agony she’d felt earlier. “You promise you’ll go?”

“If you do, I will,” Cassian says. “And you’ll tell me next time your head hurts, yes?”

“Fine,” she concedes with a grumble, though her displeasure fades when he gathers her back up in his arms and kisses her forehead gently. Her breath hitches at the feeling of his lips against her skin.

“We have a few more hours before we reach Dantooine,” he tells her softly. “We should get up, grab some food. When’s the last time you ate?”

Even though she hasn’t eaten anything all day, the remnants of nausea still remain in her system. She makes a face, wrinkling her nose at the thought of leaving the bed and Cassian’s embrace.

“You said your back was sore,” she says instead. Regardless if it had only been a ploy to get her to bed, his back bothers him more often than not. It won’t hurt to rest a little more, especially not when they’ll be in hyperspace for a while still. “Lay here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles down at her. It’s the type of true smile she so very rarely sees outside of when they’re alone together, the one that never fails to make her heart swell in her chest with a type of love she’d never thought she’d ever feel. “Always.”

#rebelcaptain #jyn erso/cassian andor #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain fanfic #rogue one fic #therebelcaptainnetwork #rebelcaptaindaily #dailyrebelcaptain #my writing

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wolfsbanesparks · 2 years ago

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It is such an honor to read your fics, omg 💖💖💖

I absolutely loved and adored your Captain Marvel fics, "Split", "Baby Blues" and "From the Shadows"!!! You inspired me to start writing my own Captain marvel fics (they're still WIPs, haha). Your characterization of Billy and the other Justice league members have shook me to my core on how amazingly fantastic you capture them!!

Are you working on any more fics at the moment?

Aww thank you so much!

There really isn't anything as amazing as knowing I could inspire other people. I eagerly look forward to anything you decide to share with us!

I do have a few fics I'm working on right now! I've got a (fairly long) oneshot called Sticky Fingers about Billy trying to give up his bad habit of petty theft that he picked up living on the streets. A few of my readers here on Tumblr actually voted on this idea! I hope to have that one out in a week or two!

I've also got two more long fics in the works, I posted short snippets of both of them pretty recently.

Pretty Little Thing is a mystery about Billy being kidnapped by a serial killer while the JL (including a few members I haven't written before!) try to find Captain Marvel, but they don't know his secret identity.

One Last Chance is about Billy being forced into a group home and signed up to have a mentor. He gets matched with Lois Lane who encourages him to pursue his dreams as an investigative reporter for WHIZ radio as they look into the mystery of Mary’s disappearance.

I like having a few chapters ready before I start posting longer fics so it might take some time before I can share them with y'all, but you'll get to see them soon!

Thank you again for you lovely comments and support💜

#billy batson #shazam #ask me whatever you want y'all #dc captain marvel #my writing #dc comics #so many fun projects!

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inaconstantstateofchange · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @hereforanepilogue for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? about 19k

3. What fandoms do you write for? baldur's gate 3

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

finirà bene [been posted longer]

hold me (like a knife) [literally posted today 😅]

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? i try to! i love talking about my thoughts and plans for the story and the background brainstorming that goes into it

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i don't know if it's applicable because i'm incapable of writing actual angsty endings? angst, absolutely, but I can't end it that way. the closest would probably be the WIP oneshot i have exploring raphael and haarlep's dynamic? and that's less angsty ending and more just... The Way Devils Are™ y'know

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? currently it would be hold me (like a knife). the characters are still working for their happy ending in finirà bene.

8. Do you get hate on fics? not yet, but i don't get much interaction on them in general, so that mostly makes sense

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i do! the more unusual and inhuman the better, usually. i love exploring what the lived experience of someone not standard-human would be.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? not yet!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? certainly not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no afaik

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? not unless mutual brainstorming over an unhinged wrestling!au counts

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? probably shen qingqiu/luo binghe from svsss, with a possible addendum of shen qingqiu/luo binghe/liu qingge

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? none so far! everything i want to finish right now i still very much have motivation to complete. finirà bene is going to take the longest just for its length, but so far i've been able to keep at it.

16. What are your writing strengths? from my own perspective and feedback i've received, i feel like i'm pretty strong in my descriptions and dialogue/characterization. those are two things that i used to consider my primary weaknesses so it's nice to be able to see them now as my strengths.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i resist splitting sentences as long as i can. like are they technically correct? yes. should i please give the narrator a single moment to catch their breath? also yes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? hmm... i don't foresee a lot of cause for it? so i'm not opposed theoretically but i can't really see it happening

19. First fandom you wrote for? that i posted anywhere, naruto. that i just wrote longhand for me and my one friend in middle school, twilight and/or harry potter.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? hold me (like a knife), by a slim margin. it is so self-indulgent and everything i wanted to read myself, and the fulfillment of a scene that's been in my mind for months, since playing through bg3 the first time. i also took it from an unedited 4.5k to a fully-edited 10.5k words in a fever-dream of a long weekend, which is an absolutely unprecedented accomplishment for me.

tagging @selkie-of-sule-skerry, @edda-grenade, and @childofyuggoth, as well as anyone else who wants to participate!

#ask game #writing #my stuff #my writing #my fic #finira bene #hold person

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scramblecat · 1 year ago

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🎉,🎙,💝? (ask game)

🎉 - How often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? How often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post?

Gosh, I have to admit, I… don’t really do this, in the literal sense HAHAHHA

Most of the time spent soon after I’ve posted a fic is anxiously sitting there and wondering how it’s going to be received/rereading it to check for errors/opening and closing my email even though I KNOW it’s too soon for commenters.

My ‘celebration’, though, is the times where I do feel proud of a fic. If I’m particularly pleased with how it turned out, I do tend to reread it a few times, and it makes me very happy to do so!! Nothing like being proud, it’s great! :D

🎙️ - Which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

Oh, gosh. That would be HUGE, honestly, and the concept kind of intimidates me because of how big it is. It would be an HONOR but also WAUGH?? I’m just a little GUY!! Writing my silly little words… if people want to read them out loud to people because they like those words so much. wow wow wow?? (I do not know if this is the case!)

ANYWAY. ANSWERING THE ACTUAL QUESTION. I think I’d readily say one of my oneshots (ex. Thunderbolts and Lightning or Molotov), because those are short and sweet and would not require much to do! (Though I do say I’d MUCH prefer my more Recent ones where I actually have a good feeling for characterization and to an extent organization… that’s why I listed T&L and Molotov instead of something like This Isn’t Ideal HEHAHA)

(However… I think Bug may be my One Exception to this, I know it’s my most popular fic to date, and it gets better as time goes on/as I got into the rhythm of writing for the fandom so yeah!!!)

💝 - What is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Oh, it’s Bug, hands down. To this day I’m still completely blown away by the reception it’s gotten— I began writing it while DELIRIOUSLY ILL and I had known these characters existed for LESS THAN TWO DAYS. It was one hundred percent self indulgence written so I could inflict my misery on my newfound blorbos, and it wasn’t even that good of writing to start!! I expected it maybe to get a few folks stopping by and dropping kudos, but oh my god, people snapped it RIGHT up.

I was even more unsure when I brought Settings Person in because of how fast things split off from canon, and I was SO scared when I posted that chapter. But in combination with the workskin I had spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out and the direction the story was going, I think it just added to people’s enthusiasm. I had NEVER received that kind of reception to ANY of my work before, and it was (and still is) CRAZY to me how much people like it. I’m so very glad they do but wow. Wow!!! Absolutely astonishing to me.

Thank you for the ask!!

—————

Fic writer asks! Send me one of these emojis and I’ll answer the corresponding question 👍

#when I say ‘astonishing’ I mean I can’t wrap my brain around what slot Bug is in in the sorted by most kudos list.#like if I didn’t see it with my own eyeballs I wouldn’t believe it whatsoever HEHAHA #answering machine #anonymous #ask game #scrambleposting #scramble writes

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supramingi · 6 months ago

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When you get a small idea, it may even be a little glimpse of a scene that has created this spark within you...how do you develop that into a full structured idea? How is the character planning process like? Are you the type of person to write down the theme and message of the book beforehand? As a person, who's studying your writing style, it would mean so much to me if you answered these questions :)

Hi, Anon, that's a great question and I hope my answer is informative and useful.

Truthfully, a lot of my ideas come from a specific visual that pops into my head. I might ruminate on it for some time before writing it down, just to try and flesh it out into something a little bigger than a split second thought. For oneshots, I then like to take that visual and insert it into an appropriate setting, think about the plot and the scenes and the characters before I start working on the story.

To use wet leather as an example, I was thinking a lot about Yunho and his little claw rings. Next thing I know, I had an idea about a f/f fic that could fit them in. Then I thought about Yunho and her claws, why she wore them, what purpose they served to the plot. Then I thought about Mingi and who she was. Finally, I made a loose plan of what the flow of the story would be, and what visuals/scenes I really wanted to try and include in it. That was all I really needed to know before I started working on wet leather.

With stories I know will have more than one chapter, my process is sometimes different. That's mostly because I don't like to spend time planning a long story before I even give it a shot to see if I can write it. Also, sometimes ideas change as the story flows, so I don't want to be too rigid with my planning.

To use HONDA BABY as an example, I had the visual that would go on to be chapter one of the story, and so I started writing it. I had a vague idea of what I wanted the story to be, but it developed into what it is now following that initial chapter. I knew who I wanted Yunho and Mingi to be in terms of their traits and personalities. But I didn't even know Jongho, and Yeosang would appear until I had already written around 10-15k of the meet-up and racing scene! (Seonghwa and Hongjoong were literally added not long before I started chapter five as well.) It took starting the story to I find I really liked the world and characters, so I decided I wanted to make it my next major project.

I dedicated time to visualising the plot (I do a lot of that before I go to sleep, I like to play the story over like a film and let my mind envision what scenes or dialogue could come next, which I then jot down and work on the following days.) I discussed it with Honey to see if she had the same creative vision as me (she usually does, it's scary how similar our minds work haha.) And then I would create loosely structured plans that would be split into chapters as I started writing the scenes.

Planning a story can be hard, and I don't think there's a right method to do so. I would advise trying out a few things to see what works for you best.

Personally, I like to create a couple of documents for each story. One is the story (or first chapter if it's a long fic.) Another contains a list of the characters and scenes that I want to include, which I mark off as I progress through the story to easily track what has already appeared. And finally, I make a document that just includes the foreword and tags for the story that would be included when it's posted on AO3. That's kind of my way of writing down the themes/messages I want to include. I also like to make Pinterest boards/moodboards, and playlists that I listen to when planning and writing to keep me focused on the vision.

#*ask #I've never studied writing so #my methods might be really bad in terms of creative writing process #so I wouldn't take my methods as advice more just an insight into how different people do creative things haha

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rueririn · 3 years ago

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What's your favourite One Piece fanfiction? I don't know what to read and from your fics I trust you to have excellent taste lol

daslkdajslkdja stop flattering me I might combust in happiness TwT

Strangely enough, despite being a writer of mostly tropes, I think I tend to read things with unique premises. Not saying other stories aren't unique though! And I avoid OC-centric fics because, idk, the fact that I wrote OCs too would confuse my goldfish brain or something maybe.

Anyways, warning long post.

First of all-- anything by Gerbilfriend, WhirlyBird70, Aibhilin and stereden will always be on the pedestal of my heart.

so first, time travel ones

The Coward's Redemption by Brucenorris007 I will scream about this story every day every night. Usopppppppp!!!!

switching places by fireflywitch. Wano Zoro switches with Alabasta Zoro, shenanigans ensue, and of course Luffy notices immediately.

The Next Right Thing by MelodramaticCoffeeAddict includes Zoro and Vivi, Vivi joining the crew, and Zoro needing ten thousand hugs.

A Split Thread by SrirachaBunny. Zoro and Luffy time travelled, but they decide to split up instead of go on canon together.

etc, they have fascinating premises

Your True Colours (are beautiful) by ScarletSorceress. Never knew I needed a story about the ASL boys and their hair colours but here I am, obsessed.

The Living in Memory series by Stelra_Etnae has always fascinated me. I've always loved stories about Brook being able to see the dead.

The One Piece Soulmate AUs series by charlie_mou that is so damn good I don't even understand

The Lazy Painter! by BlackMageofPhantasm. It's the best Miss Goldenweek fic. Ever.

Paper Monsters by MaiKusakabe is so good. Law stays with the Donquixote family instead of going with Corazon and aaaaaa

Be Brave Usopp by DrizzlyMango. Before I'd even noticed, there was another Blind Usopp fic on AO3. Damn is it great and underrated.

Won't You Send me a Flower, Send me a Secret by CastledRook. Anything by CastledRook, seriously. Bittersweet flower language drabbles I am W E A K

Threadbare by Depths explores an immortal Marco backstory. I love it.

"mon propre accord" by suguear. I already said I avoid OC fics, but I read this one and I loved this one and-- I love Goji, okay???

Flashy Brotherhood by Airuna. Buggy adopts the ASL kids somehow.

Heart Pirate Sanji by PumpkinPieTimb, it's exactly what it says on the tin.

these below are all oneshots

Knife Wife and Trash Husband walk into a bar (The bartender keeps them both) by Justm3h kills me with so much happiness just look at the title pls

whatever you can still betray by midnightluck. 6k words of pure crackhead energy among the whitebeards, because Ace makes no sense and Haruta's losing their mind about it.

Three Truths, One Lie by Setyourlazerstopew is of a similar premise, just as awesomely written.

Magic Paint by 8ball. I like to hold it in my hand like yes. This is my favourite dose of strawhat domestic fluff. it keeps me alive.

an in-between thing by PilotStudios is about Franky being a Klabautermann, somehow. Cutty Flam is a weird name for a person.

Bonds Broken by kittyface27, an Ace time travel fic that doesn't go right for our poor firecracker-- it hurts me very much. but it's so well written sometimes I just scream about it in the middle of the night because oh my goddddd

pumpkin soup with three spoons by razbliuto is the domestic dadMihawk I never knew I needed. Same thing to Accidental Child Acquisition and Other Adventures in Piracy by Souless_Robot.

Doesn't matter where I come from anyway... by ToshiChan is a fic where Judge is even more of an absolute asshole, but it's okay now, Sanji gets all the hugs he deserves.

I probably forgot a lot of the ones I liked, but this list is hella long, so I guess that's it. Do give these stories some love!

#personal #one piece

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phantomchick · 4 years ago

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Merlin fic rec list

To Be A King by clotpolesonly Teen And Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Merlin and Arthur, Merlin and Mordred, Gwen/Arthur, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Canonical Character Death, BAMF Merlin, Dragonlord Merlin, Original setting, Magical kingdom, King Merlin, Royal!Merlin Summary: When Merlin discovers that his father was an estranged prince and he himself is now the only heir to the throne of a magical kingdom, he is forced to leave Camelot for the perils of a royal court. Will Merlin be able to win Arthur's favor again before Morgana launches an attack on a defenseless Camelot? Will he be able to defend his own kingdom at the same time or will all be lost? -

A Matter of Sovereignty by Kizmet Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply, Friendship Summary A visiting prince takes it into his head to brutalize Merlin, but sometimes the solution to a problem is in how you phrase it.

Bumps and Bruises by platonic_boner merthur, implied/suspected abuse, Protective Arthur, Magic Revealed, pre-relationship, teen an up, canon typical violence,

Summary: Arthur notices Merlin’s constant injuries, and decides he needs to step in and protect Merlin.

Finding Home by riventhorn Arthur/Merlin, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Written for a kinkme_merlin prompt. When Gaius retires a new physician takes over and quickly kicks Merlin out of his room and takes it for himself. Arthur finds Merlin sleeping in the stables...and it's winter.

How To Love A Living Thing by Polomonkey Mature, merthur, Merlin/Arthur, Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Abuse, Violence, Sexual Harassment, Drowning, Guilt, Romance, Protective Arthur, Mild Sexual Content, Redemption, Healing, Canon Era

Summary Guilt ridden and lonely after his confrontation with Nimueh, Merlin slowly begins to isolate himself from Arthur. When two knights take it upon themselves to teach him his place, Merlin finds himself with nowhere to turn. Will he be able to reach out to his prince before it's too late?

Obeisance by casspeach Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply, Merlin/Arthur

Summary: It's not that Arthur won't share his toys, just that he expects to get them back undamaged

All's Well That Ends Well by StormDancer explicit, Merlin/Arthur, Arthur Finds Out, magic reveal Summary: Merlin spent the week and a half that Arthur was gone splitting his time between crafting careful explanations that never ended up explaining the important things, the things that would make Arthur listen, and making half-baked plans to escape to Ealdor. He found a number of fire-proofing spells that would have no effect if they decided to cut his head off, and figured out how to adapt an invulnerability spell he had been trying to find a way to cast on Arthur without him noticing so that it would protect him from being decapitated, but it would have no effect on anything but metal. Despite all his frantic searching, he did not find a teleportation spell, because that would have been too simple and if there was one thing Merlin had learned in his years at Camelot, it was that nothing was ever simple.

Deeds by the5leggedCricket Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Episode Related, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon, Teen and Up,

Summary: Arthur is coming of age, and that means he’s about to get Deeds—marks on his body telling him of his soulmate’s greatest accomplishments. But as he tries to find his soulmate, he also makes some worrying discoveries about the kind of person his soulmate is.

Honorable Intentions by smilebackwards Gwaine/Merlin, Guinevere/Arthur Pendragon, Courtship, Protectiveness, Protective!Arthur, Teen and Up, Summary: There are several considerations Arthur would like to go over, starting with the state of Merlin's virtue.

Laundry's Hard Work by supercalvin Gen, Teen and Up, Canon Era, can be read as pre-slash, BAMF Merlin

Summary: Wasn't Merlin supposed to be...tiny? When the hell had he learned to use a sword and not fall on his backside? Where the hell did those scars from? What the hell?

or Arthur still thinks Merlin is the young boy he met ten years ago and he starts to notice things in his manservant that he wasn't aware had changed at all.

Fathom Me Out by supercalvin Merlin/Arthur, Canon Era, Magic Revealed, Teen and up,

Summary: After ten years, Arthur thinks he has Merlin all figured out. But as he watches Merlin, he finds out that he has more questions than answers. The longer he thinks about it, the more uneasy he feels. So he pushes it aside. Except, he can no longer ignore the questions he has about Merlin. Not your everyday reveal!fic

Loyalty Before Royalty by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle Gen, Gwen & Merlin, Arthur and Merlin being the most iconic duo? I think tf not, Gwen and Merlin wreaking havoc? Teaming up against Arthur? That's the most iconic duo there, as usual, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Arthur is so exasperated, someone help him, good thing he loves them both

Summary: "Where did you get that?" Arthur asked, but he already knew the answer. "Gwen." "...and the horse?" "Gwen." "What about the-" "Gwen." Merlin interrupted. Arthur nodded. At this point, he wasn't sure why he even bothered to ask. He was pretty certain his wife was going to knight Merlin any day now.He looked Merlin up and down for a few moments before accepting it all with a sigh. "As long as you get my armor to me tomorrow...I don't care." He finally said, turning away. Merlin cleared his throat. "Gwen gave me tomorrow off." "For the love of God." Or I hate that Gwen and Merlin's friendship kind of withered away in the later seasons so here's a oneshot about her and Merlin abusing her new royal powers because that's what happens when your best friend becomes queen.

Know It All Knight by Shi_Toyu Leon & Merlin, Knights of the Round Table, Magic Revealed, protective leon, Arthur Finds Out, Oblivious Arthur

Summary: Leon couldn’t say for sure when the exact moment was that he figured out Merlin had magic. He’d suspected it for a little while, to be honest. He definitely had it figured out by the time Arthur managed to ‘kill’ the Great Dragon. What Leon could say for sure was the exact moment he figured out that no one else had figured out Merlin had magic.

The Nature of Trust by Lynds Merlin's Magic Revealed, Leon is the Mam Friend, Leon is so done, Protective Gwaine, Lancelot Lives, Canon Era, Arthur Finds Out, Hurt Merlin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, reference to hunting and cooking animals Summary: Leon starts to notice that the knights, one by one, are starting to trust Merlin's judgement. That he keeps warning Arthur about danger, and being right. Is there more to Merlin than meets the eye?

Repercussions by PeaceHeather Fix-It of Sorts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lecture, Rants, Episode: s02e06 Beauty and the Beast, Episode: s02e05 Beauty and the Beast, Canon Era, One Shot, Gen Summary: Uther married a troll. In canon, that all worked out fine eventually. In this slight canon divergence, there is at least one noble who's not willing to let it slide so easily.

No Harm Will Come to You Here by fancyh Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 05, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Fluff and Angst, temporary amnesia, teen and up,

Summary: "That was magic," Arthur accuses.

"Oh." Merlin just nods, looking unperturbed.

Arthur fights to keep his expression calm, mind racing and heart pounding. "Sorcery is outlawed in Camelot. On pain of death."

Merlin splutters, finally fixing Arthur with an affronted glare. "It's not like I meant to do it!"

***

Merlin gets hit with a spell meant for Arthur and loses his memory. Revelations ensue. Set sometime after 5x02.

Metamorphose by clotpolesonly Merlin/Arthur, Teen and Up, Between Seasons/Series, Episode: s03e01 The Tears of Uther Pendragon (Part I), Episode: s03e02 The Tears of Uther Pendragon (Part II), Mpreg, Magic Reveal, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, morgana redemption, some transphobic language from Merlin when he finds out he’s pregnant because of magic but it’s mostly just the shock that does it Summary: When Merlin falls into bed with Arthur, he doesn't expect for to wake up alone. He doesn't expect Arthur to give him the cold shoulder either, but there is something else he expects even less which forces him out of the kingdom for over a year. He returns to find a traitor in the court, an army on the way, and a love he'd thought all but lost waiting for him with open arms.

Four Days To Fall In Love. by CupCakezys Teen and Up, No archive warnings apply, Merlin/Arthur, Morgana/Gwen, Soulmate AU, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Protective Arthur, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Secret Relationship

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate (or two or three), Arthur Pendragon knows he is destined to be alone. For Arthur can see his heartstring, could follow it to where his soulmate lived, and that could only mean one thing.

His soulmate had magic, and should they ever meet, Arthur would have to kill them.

Sacrificial Lamb by RurouniHime Angst and Humor, Pining, First Time, First Kiss, Post Season 1, Initial Misunderstanding, But it’s resolved, Happy Ending, Fluff with a touch of angst at first

Summary: Arthur's been overworking his knights, so they come to Merlin as a last resort.

Cheers and Spirits by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle Gen, The knights are kinda fools, but the best king, Humour, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Knights of the Round Table & Merlin

Summary: Despite all the supposed trips to the tavern none of the knights have seen Merlin drunk. They decide to rectify that. A poor decision, really.

Circle 'round the Truth by enviropony Merlin + Knights friendship, Gen, Magic Reveal, Oneshot, Knights of the Round Table & Merlin Summary: They know about the magic. Or, more accurately, Merlin's magic is the truth the knights circle around, and Merlin's loyalty is the one 'round which they rally. (A character study with some yelling, an action sequence, and a bit of walking.) Post-S4.

Strict Justice by schweet_heart mutual pining, BAMF Arthur, magic reveal, canon au, oneshot, teen and up

Summary: After a particularly grueling battle, Merlin and Arthur share a quiet moment in their tent.

before it breaks by schweet_heart Teen and Up, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, merlin whump, magic reveal, merlin & arthur, merthur

Summary: “It’s not what it looks like,” he says, hand still outstretched, barely a waver in his voice as he lies, outright, to Arthur’s face. “Sire, I can explain.”

“Can you,” Arthur says. He’s aware that he’s trembling, a seismic reaction to the outrage and denial still fighting it out inside his head, but he knows what he’s seen. What it must be. “Well, then, you’d better be quick about it, because it looks a lot like magic.”

Until the Day I Die by Cookie Teen and Up, Oneshot, Angst, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Arthur believed Dragoon had killed his father, and so he plunged his sword deep into the sorcerer. Now Merlin was dying in his arms and Arthur was facing the future alone.

These Castle Walls Bleed Lies by marguerite_26 Mature, hurt/comfort, Magic Reveal, Angst, Merthur, mentions of arthur/gwen, Gwen/Lancelot

Summary: With his father unfit to rule and Camelot decimated, Arthur must assume the role of King. But the truths he discovers shake the foundation of all he holds dear.

before his eyes (he now sees clear) by hwc Teen And Up Audiences, Uther Pendragon is terrible and complicated, Merlin/Arthur

Summary: It takes Uther half a second to see Balinor in Merlin, and he's almost sure of what he should do.

Keep Your Secrets by new_kate, orphan_account Mature, rape/non-con, torture, captivity, romance, alternate universe - canon, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort

Summary: Arthur Pendragon is captured by the bandits. While he waits to be ransomed, he slowly gets to know Merlin, the prisoner being held in the next cell.

Crossing the Line by Ultrageekatlarge BAMF Merlin, Gen, Crack, Oneshot, Magic Reveal, Hurt! Merlin, Humour

Summary: In which Merlin gets bludgeoned, strangled, attacked, smothered, shot with glass, and tossed out a window, burned, whipped, stabbed, thrown down stairs, nearly drowned on dry land, and harpooned, and still manages to save Camelot from seven evil sorcerers, before lunch.

Your Touch Is My Salvation by elirwen Magic Reveal, Canon Era, Oblivious idiots in love, Curses, Teen and Up, Oneshot, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Merlin suffers from an effect of a curse. Arthur can help more than he initially thought.

A Heavy Heart to Carry by Thursday_Next Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Reveal, Oneshot, Mature, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Summary: When Merlin is captured and injured, Arthur must face up to his own feelings for his manservant as well as the many secrets he discovers are being kept from him.

Can you do that? by no_nutcracker Merlin/Mithian, no archive warnings apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e11 The Hunter's Heart, Arthur & Merlin friendship

Summary: Merlin should be overjoyed. He just found his soulmate. If only she was not betrothed to Arhur.

His Remedy for Care by ArgentSleeper Teen and Up, canon au, Episode: s02e13 The Last Dragonlord, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fix It

Summary: Injured in the dragon attack in lieu of Arthur and afraid of being stopped from going on the mission, Merlin kept away from Gaius and never learned that Balinor was his father. Instead it's Arthur that puts two and two together as he seeks the dragonlord out, first to save his servant (not friend- they can't be friends), then to save his kingdom.

A Considerable Head Start by ughbutidontwantto BAMF Merlin, Gen, when villains have more regard for you than friends, Camelot has a serious class problem, Merlin deserves better

Summary: Merlin is frighteningly competent and his friends are correctly concerned. Obviously they're going to follow him out to the woods. And obviously they're not going to like what they hea

The Conscience of the King by ughbutidontwantto Gen, Post-Magic Reveal, Legal Drama, Oneshot, Friendship feels

Summary: Merlin's magic was revealed and now everyone has to deal with it in an official capacity since tragically most of these characters work in government. Arthur, predictably, is struggling to cope.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind by BabyStepsAreStillSteps Merlin Deserved Better, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Episode: s05e09 With All My Heart, Fix It

Summary: When Arthur turned his back on the Dolma that he didn’t know was his manservant, Merlin reminded him that he was missing a very important member of their rescue party.

What if he hadn’t?

What They Owe Us by ironspidereilish Merlin/Arthur, Alternate Universe, Aredian’s a tax collector instead of a witch hunter but he’s still a bastard, Hurt/Comfort, Poverty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Arthur Pendragon, BAMF Arthur, Canon Era, Romance, sexual coercion mentioned, BAMF Merlin

Summary: When Arthur finds out that the castle staff are having their wages held for weeks at a time and can no longer afford food or their homes, he will not rest until they are protected and Aredian is stopped.

The fact that Merlin’s stomach is rumbling while he delivers the prince his breakfast, and Arthur hates the thought of him suffering, only serves as extra motivation to fix this.

royal blood by Rona23 crack!fic, humour, comedy, Balinor Lives, Dragonlord things, Golden Age, Bamf Arthur, Bamf Balinor, Bamf Merlin, Fix It, Magic reveal, Oblivious Arthur, Merthur

Summary: ..... as if Balinor could be killed by Bandits O.o

Alternatively: An alternative take on Balinor surviving and saving Camelot. ... And then proceeding to hold the entire kingdom hostage, because he has a frigging Dragon at his disposal :)

- The way by Naelyn Episode: s04e11 The Hunter's Heart, POV Arthur Pendragon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Arthur, Until He’s Not, Hurt/Comfort, Merlin Deserved Better, Communication or lack thereof, Canon Divergence

Summary: "One more word out of you, and I swear to God I will send you into exile."

He knows it’s not the pyre, knows there’s much worse, but banishment would mean staying away from Arthur forever – and, as pathetic as that might sound, he thinks he would rather die than let that happen. It is clear that the feeling is not reciprocated, clear that in Arthur’s eyes, he will never come first. There’ll always be people coming before him, and he’s made peace with that long ago – but if even Agravaine can come before him, then anyone could, no? Anyone could replace him. Call Merlin a traitor and have Arthur get rid of him. Anyone could.

Merlin no longer feels safe in Camelot.

or: Arthur threatens Merlin of banishment. To Arthur's eyes, it's all forgotten. To Merlin's, however... Well, let's just say that his faith in their mutual destiny, once unwavering, finds itself faltering at a dangerously quick rate.

Better in the Mourning by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle Gen, Lancelot & Merlin, Knights of the Round Table & Merlin, Grief, Fluff and Angst, Gwen/Lance mentioned, let the characters grieve, 5 Knights of Grief

Summary: Merlin mourns Lancelot's death. The rest of the knights help out. (AKA Merlin gets to take advantage of not having to keep a dead loved one a secret and gets some goddamn support in this castle)

I suppose that I look different (without the robes and crown) by WingedWolf121 Canon Era, Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, Uther Pendragon’s A + Parenting, Ygraine/Uther, Arthur/Merlin, Balinor/Hunith, Dragonlord Merlin, BAMF Merlin, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: When Arthur blows the horn of Cathbdhah for the second time, the horn doesn’t just send Uther to the other world. It sends Arthur away as well – to a world where Ygraine never died, the Great Purge never happened, and magic lives freely at court. As do those who practice it.

For Your Information by reni_days Merlin & Uther, Merlin/Arthur, Modern Era au, Oneshot, Teen and Up

Summary: Merlin sighs. "After your...announcement," he explains, "your father decided he needed a bit more information. Which is apparently where I come in. I'm sort of like his gay tutor, it's hard to explain."

Good Fortune by platonic_boner Canon Era, Fluff, Merlin/Arthur, Oneshot

Summary: Arthur makes Merlin a lord, and Merlin does an astonishingly good job of running a village.

Within Reach by foxy_mulder Explicit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sex, Merlin/Arthur, Angst with a Happy Ending, Oneshot, Slowburn

Summary: Nobody touches Arthur.

Merlin realizes it slowly, and when he does, he wants to kick himself for not seeing sooner. ___________ (Or, Arthur and Merlin's relationship with touch over time.)

Moment of Weakness by TheAsexualofSpades Gen, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Protective Knights, Protective Arthur Pendragon, Protective Merlin, Whump, Oneshot, Merlin/Arthur

Summary: After all Merlin's gone through, you'd think it would take some world-ending magic spell or an almost successful attempt on Arthur's life to shake him properly.

It isn't one of those, and Merlin has no idea why.

He just knows he can't be weak.

The Only Reward Bestowed Upon Me by greatdumbking Gen, Oneshot, Merlin/Arthur, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, Episode: s04e05 His Father's Son, Fix-It, Agravaine, Canon Era, Love Confessions

Summary: “You’re wrong Merlin. I don’t need anyone. I can’t afford that luxury. The kingdom's my responsibility now, and mine to bear alone. And you must learn to accept that.”

How could this hurt so much, a third time? Merlin could feel the façade of his casual indifference faltering. His face fell, tears were clawing at his throat, creeping into his eyes. It took all his effort to nod, steel his eyes, and swallow down the rising sob.

(How did Merlin get chosen the be the bait? Why did Arthur start pushing Merlin away? Why couldn't he see how much it was hurting him?)

Maybe Not the Most Awkward Dinner to Happen in Camelot's Citadel, but it's Definitely Up There by HopePrevails Gen, Gwen/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Oneshot, Humour, past Gwen/Merlin

Summary: When an argument about whether Merlin is remotely attractive or not breaks out over dinner, Queen Guinevere accidentally drops into the conversation that she had a crush on him when he first arrived in Camelot. Arthur takes it... like Arthur.

--x--

“Don’t look so surprised, Merlin.” Gwen said kindly. Perhaps she was the psychic. “You’re sweet and gentle, charismatic-” Arthur snorted. “- and I’m not going to let you walk out of those doors thinking you don’t look the part, either. Remember, even when you first came to Camelot, I-” She stopped herself, snapping her lips tightly shut.

#art by mushroomtale-fanart #their stuff is great #Merlin fic recs #merlin fic rec #merlin (tv)#merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #bbc merlin fic recs #merlin emrys #fic rec list #fic recs #51 fics total

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quaranmine · 2 years ago

Note

1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 11, 43?

thank you!! :0

fic writer ask game

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

hmmm, I don't quite remember when I started reading it, but the best I can say is probably between 5th and 6th grade? I went on a trip with some friends that summer and I remember reading it on the trip but not before it. I was.....definitely way too young. I also discovered it via warrior cats fanfic. i also discovered cat smut the same day since i didnt know what "lemon" meant. it was mildly traumatizing. somehow despite all odds i came back to reading fanfic

writing, probably sometime in 7th grade? i published some Doctor Who fics on ff.net and wrote it by hand in my notebook lol. my first AO3 fic wasn't finished and posted until 10th grade.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

historically I read more than I write, but these past few months have been a bit insane for my writing output so i'm much closer to 50/50 right now.

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do?

I can't think of any specific fics, honestly, but I probably internalize all my favorite parts of other people's works. the more i write the more I do this! there's even a few times where i've intentionally not read a fic until later because i didn't want to end up borrowing too much of their interpretations by accident

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

i'm just doing current faves in this fandom rather than all-time ones across all fandoms!

Still the Echoes Give Us Light by doctortrekkie: not a fic but a series, but definitely one of my favorites ones right now.

the pain will make you crazy - you're the victim of your crime by Jinx72: one of my fave empires fics ever. does something to my brain. makes me wanna lie on the floor and cry over jimmy

late at night, when the stars don’t look quite right by lunarblazes: another GREAT empires fic.

runnerups include nearly anything written by theminecraftbee, everything turns to gold, and dog at the door, but I wanted to link these other ones

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

long fics. i like to lose myself in a fanfic for hours obsessively reading it. i was, however, up until recently, only a short fic writer so i also very much love and respect the oneshot writers

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

mostly song titles/lines LOL. how to be a human being is named after the album by glass animals, but it's one of my faves since i think it fits the fic perfectly. the (wip) sequel to it is named after a line in a lord huron song. lonesome dreams is named after a lord huron song/album. my favorite title that was entirely my own is the baby sitting game. my least favorite title is new world, new faces, which is funny since it's my second most popular fic.

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

i have great memories of being interactive on people's works in 2014 on ff.net--the sort of thing where i'd review every chapter, offer suggestions, song reccs, and stuff. I even messaged some authors, but I was awful at replying since I didn't have a super steady access to my account at the time. That was so much fun though and definitely connected me to the community. I also used to have irl friends who wrote fic, and that was fun because we'd write it together in person and i always had someone i could talk to about my ideas at school or whatever. now i have that on discord, though :D

nowadays i'm just totally shocked whenever someone follows my ao3 account (not the fics--just me as an author) or says that they came to my fic after seeing me post about it on tumblr, or says that my fic is one of their favorites. it's such a nice feeling <3

#quara asks #long post #!!

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nompunhere · 4 years ago

Text

The Traveler and the Tiny Ghost - Chapter 4 (H/ollow K/night G/t Fic)

oh wow look new chapter-

First | Previous

Characters: The Knight (Ghost), Quirrel, the Nailsmith, the Maskmaker, and Lemm as a cameo Word Count: 4,361 (Total so far: 12,893) Warnings: Minor H/ollow K/night Spoilers, Bugs, Mention of Temporary Character Death, Implied Violence Other Notes: In case you missed my last post, I have decided to split the vore into a separate fic. Part of my reasoning is for continuity, in case I decide I want to add more to this one after I’ve written the noms. It’ll link back to this fic, and I might make a masterpost for the au if I write a bunch of oneshots for it like I plan to.

Chapter under the cut

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

Raindrops gently hit the thick material of the satchel, each one landing with a light thump. Ghost drew back from peering through the bag’s opening to simply sit and watch the cityscape pass by in a blur. Very few droplets made it into the bag, but the little knight had done their best to rearrange Quirrel’s belongings so that the less-waterproof things would be shielded from the intruding liquid.

Now, they leaned back against the dense fabric, feeling it shift against their friend’s shell slightly as he made his way through the husk-infested streets of the City of Tears. Guilt pricked at Ghost’s conscience for their inability to help, but they reminded themself that Quirrel had been traversing all of Hallownest on his own for quite a while with seemingly no issue. From the sound of it, the pillbug was handling himself just fine, avoiding conflict for the most part and dispatching enemies swiftly whenever necessary.

This was an… interesting experience, to say the least. It was the first time the little wanderer had ever traveled with another. Not only that, but it was the first time they were letting someone else fight for them. They felt somewhat helpless, and though that one wasn’t a first, they hadn’t experienced it often, and never for all that long. They hoped the feeling would end after a visit to the Nailsmith.

That wasn’t to mention the whole “being tiny” thing. Ghost was used to being small, and they had met more than their fair share of bugs that towered over them over the course of their travels both inside and out of Hallownest, but rarely could they fit in the palm of one’s hand. Right now, being carried around with someone’s stuff, they felt almost insignificant. The knight decided that they didn’t like that.

They pulled themself out of their thoughts to focus on the outside world once more. Through the opening of the satchel, Ghost could see… Well, not much, to be perfectly honest. They had been able to see almost normally when they had their face right up next to their little window, but sitting down had narrowed their field of view quite a lot. They could see rain, a background alternating between slate gray and murky blue as Quirrel passed buildings and open streets, and the occasional flash of orange when he had to kill whatever Infected vengefly or husk came after him.

Soon enough, the slight jostling from Quirrel’s footsteps slowed down and steadied out. The distant sounds of sentries marching their endless patrols had become nearly inaudible. Perhaps the two reached a safer area? Ghost got to their feet and made their way back to the satchel’s partway-open flap. Taking a look outside, they didn’t see much of note, but upon angling themself to look to their right, they spotted the Hollow Knight statue. It seemed that the traveler was stopping to look at it.

Ghost shoved their head through the opening before them and heaved themself out just enough to reach around to the pillbug behind them. Carefully, so as to not fall, they leaned over and patted at Quirrel’s shell.

“Hm?” He started slightly and looked down at them. “Oh, sorry my friend. I have a tendency to get distracted when I see something of interest. This fountain certainly fits that description!” he chuckled. “I caught a glimpse of it on my last trip through this place, but I didn’t get the chance to have a closer look.”

Sensing that their traveling companion was about to go on one of his signature tangents, Ghost figured that they should probably get into a more stable position. Hanging halfway out of a bag wasn’t exactly the most secure. From where they were, they could either ease themself back into the satchel, or ask Quirrel to hold them. Their mind blanked as they tried to make a decision.

“The statue at the center clearly depicts someone of great importance, though I haven't seen any information about them other than this throughout my time in Hallownest. Still, they seem oddly familiar, somehow,” he continued, ignorant to the smaller being’s plight. “As for the other statues, they must hold some meaning. Though they all have the same base, their masks are different. I'm certain I've seen their likenesses before, but for some reason it's difficult to say where.” Ghost was forced to choose after they overbalanced a bit, hastily shoving themself back into their temporary place of residence so that their head was still mostly outside, but the rest of their body was safely tucked away. The knight supposed that they still weren’t quite used to the weight of the mask as opposed to their shell.

They made themself comfortable and settled in to listen to Quirrel’s musings. They noticed that he didn’t mention the plaque at all. Looking again at their surroundings, it seemed that the two were on the opposite side of the fountain from where Ghost usually passed by. Their mind wandered a bit as the pillbug talked. Lemm had been down here recently. He had a few similar things to say to them. Now that they thought of it, didn’t he live right nearby? Conveniently, since Quirrel was on the back side of the fountain, Ghost was in the perfect position to look up at where Lemm’s window should be.

Lo and behold, the relic seeker himself stood just behind the glass, staring down at them. Well, at Quirrel anyway—Ghost kind of hoped he couldn’t see them. They didn’t feel quite ready to explain their current situation to the unsociable beetle yet. Maybe later. Perhaps he had heard Quirrel talking and come to look? It seemed unlikely, what with the rain, glass, and distance separating them, but with how close his shop was to the fountain, it wasn’t impossible. Or maybe he had just coincidentally looked through his window at some point over the past few minutes.

Several drawn-out seconds later, Lemm turned away and went back to his desk. Table. Counter. Whatever. Ghost turned their attention back to Quirrel as he finished his monologue. They did enjoy listening to him, but he really could go on and on. At the moment, he was staring thoughtfully up at one of the three smaller statues, a hand holding the edge of the mask atop his head. Another moment passed, then he looked back at Ghost with a small smile.

“I find that my kerchief is getting a bit soaked, simply standing here. This little hat of mine can’t shield it from all water, after all. Though I personally enjoy damp environments, I fear I never took your preferences into consideration when I stopped. Sorry, Ghost. Are you ready to leave?” They responded with a firm nod. Quirrel snickered at that. It must’ve looked rather silly with how their head was still only most of the way out of the bag. They allowed themself to slide back in and sat back down in their previous position. They both heard and felt Quirrel pat the satchel before he took off once again.

If the little wanderer remembered correctly, the two were about halfway to their destination. They attempted to pull their map out to check, huffing in frustration when they could only get a corner out before it stopped. They shoved both hands into their inventory to try and roll the map up more tightly, but that didn’t help in retrieving it. Don’t get them wrong, Ghost was grateful that the parchment had so much room to make a complete and detailed map of each area, but they found themself cursing its size now.

Alongside a replacement nail, they should see about getting another map. Scraps of paper should work well enough. There might even be some among Quirrel’s belongings, but they didn’t want to go around ripping up his stuff for their own purposes, especially not without asking first. They could deal with this issue after they got a new weapon. Self-defense came first.

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

It wasn’t long before the refined architecture of the City of Tears gave way to the mushrooms and spores of the Fungal Wastes. The immediate area was also becoming increasingly dotted with abandoned nails, so far as Ghost could tell from Quirrel’s occasional remarks, anyway. It seemed the two had pretty much made it to their destination, thankfully without any more prolonged stops along the way.

As the sound of clanging metal drew closer, Ghost considered standing to go look through their little viewing window, but remembering the jumps it would take to get up to the Nailsmith’s hut, they opted to stay seated for now.

“You know, there are plenty of nails out here smaller than your own. Perhaps one of these would work?” Quirrel’s pace had slowed to a walk. Scratch that previous thought about staying put, then. Ghost popped their head out to look. Huh. They had forgotten about those. They stuck an arm out to point downwards, and the pillbug crouched obligingly near a cluster of them.

The knight hopped out of the satchel and trotted over to examine the unused-yet-weathered weapons. It looked as though they had been left outside for quite a while. They didn’t look all that good, to be honest. Some of them appeared to have been given up on halfway through forging, some were made deliberately poorly (probably out of boredom or frustration), and some were just straight-up blunt metal rods, like a child’s toy nail but mildly more dangerous.

Ghost hefted one of the less shoddy ones. It was a bit longer than their entire height, but they bore its weight with ease. Quirrel let out a shocked laugh behind them. When they glanced back, he elaborated. “Sorry, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting to see you pick that up so casually.” They looked back at the piece of metal in their hand in consideration. After giving it a few experimental swings, they found that the balance was completely off, and tossed it aside.

The next one they picked up was about the size of their channeled nail, if not a little bigger. There was nothing particularly special about it, but they grabbed it, turned to face Quirrel, held it out in front of them, and waved it around. He snorted, then ducked his head and broke out into giggles, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

The tiny knight stepped forward and bopped the larger of his two masks lightly with the nail. They were surprised when it repelled them back with approximately the same amount of force that they had applied, which sent the nail leaning far enough over their head that they overbalanced and tumbled backward. The oversized weapon clattered away across the cobblestone, leaving Ghost sprawled on their back.

“Are you alright?” Quirrel asked, having looked up at the sharp sound. They gave a weary nod. The taller bug moved closer and was now leaning over them somewhat, fiddling with his hands. “You are incredibly strong for your size, I must admit, but perhaps we should stick to more reasonably-sized nails, hmm?” He set a hand down beside his fallen traveling partner. They let their head fall back, then got up and climbed onto the offered ride. Quirrel smoothly rose to his feet and moved onward. “I assume none of those were worth your time. Still, maybe there’s something in one of the other piles that will be more to your liking.”

As it turned out, not really. The two spent a long while sifting through bundles of the smaller discarded nails, but none could match up to Ghost’s original blade. From what they could tell, the diminutive weapons generally weren’t taken as seriously as the more standard ones when they were being crafted. They looked fine at first glance, but they never slashed quite right, and some seemed rather fragile.

Eventually Quirrel handed the knight one that they found decent. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying to use as the channeled nail, the edges were relatively blunt, and it didn’t seem like it would do much damage, but the proportions were almost right, and that was more than they could say for any of the previous nails they had tested. Deciding that it was probably the best they were going to get at this point, Ghost nodded and pointed towards the hut that the two had been working steadily closer to. Quirrel returned the gesture and held out the satchel for them to jump into, which they did.

They reclined with the new nail resting across their lap as the traveler leapt up the last few crumbling steps to the forge. Checking their inventory, they found that they did, in fact, still have the piece of Pale Ore that they’d gotten from their brief excursion into the Ancient Basin. Thinking back on it, wasn’t there a spike-lined path that they couldn’t go down before? Since they now had the Crystal Heart, they’d have to check that out. Not until they got their present circumstances figured out, of course, but hopefully soon. Outside, Quirrel’s movements stilled, and a knock rang out above the repetitive clanging of metal.

“Judging by the fact that you knocked, you’re not anyone I’ve seen recently, but you’re also probably not Infected. Come in,” a gruff voice called, the sound of his hammer going quiet.

Ghost moved to see what was going on outside as Quirrel began a greeting. The pillbug was interrupted before he could speak, however.

“Oh, it’s you. I imagine you’re here to have that nail of yours sharpened.”

When there was no response, Ghost looked up at their friend. He appeared to have frozen, stuck with his mouth partway open and hand held up to make some sort of gesture. After a moment, he regained his composure.

“Er, no, actually, though that would be helpful while I’m here.” The Nailsmith gave him a blank look. “I’m here for a friend,” he said, cupping a hand around the opening of his satchel. Ghost crawled out into his grasp, bringing along the small blade they’d found. The hand brought them forward, and they stepped down onto the Nailsmith’s work table, giving a cheerful wave as they did.

“What the fu-”

“Anyway,” Quirrel continued, a strained grin visible under his mask, “Ghost here needs a nail to suit their current size that will last for however long, ahem, this goes on for. They can’t wield their usual one for what I should hope are obvious reasons.”

“What-”

“We looked through the many nails outside for one that might work, and this is the best we could find,” the traveler went on, indicating the one in Ghost’s hand, which they held up for emphasis. “We were hoping you could make it more effective, or make them an entirely new one if that won’t work.” The little wanderer then took out their Pale Ore, followed by a few 25-Geo pieces. “Oh, yes, and we can pay, of course.”

“...Alright. Hand that over then.” They held out the nail for the Nailsmith to take. He spent some time scrutinizing it, then nodded. “This will do. It’s not the best, but starting from here will save some time. Adding the Pale Ore should make it passable as a weapon. 600 Geo.” A quick calculation, and Ghost withdrew nineteen more 25-Geo pieces, added them to the five they had set forth earlier, and pushed the pile at him. “I’m not certain I’ll need that entire chunk of ore for this, so if there’s any left when I’m done, I’ll return it to you.” From there, he set the tiny weapon in front of him on the table-that-may-or-may-not-be-an-anvil and readied the grindstone to his side.

“And you,” he nodded to Quirrel, “that nail looks well cared-for. 120 Geo to sharpen it. Just leave it against the wall and come back shortly. Try not to die while you wait.” While he was talking and Quirrel wasn’t looking, Ghost slipped out the Dream Nail and took a swipe at the Nailsmith with it. There was some coherent thought, but it was buried under a chorus of the phrase he had been about to say when the knight first stepped onto his table. They put the tool away with a silent snicker, before being startled by the sudden appearance of a hand beside them.

“We’ll be heading outside to wait, then. Thank you for your service.” The pillbug received merely a grunt in response, turning to the door once Ghost was seated in his palm.

Back in the spore-filled air of the City of Tears’ outskirts, Quirrel sat cross-legged a moderate distance from the forge. He gently placed Ghost on his knee, then dug around in his satchel to retrieve some kind of wrapped bundle. From it, he pulled out a small bar that looked to be made of dry, compressed plant matter, including leaves, grains, and seeds. Ghost tilted their head in interest. He paused, the bar halfway to his mouth, free hand on the bottom of his mask. “Oh, this?” A nod.

“These are just some travel rations,” he said, lifting the wrapping to reveal a pile of similar and slightly-crumbling bars. “They’re not the best, but they do their job well enough. Would you like to try some? ...Do you eat?” When they nodded again and held a hand out, the traveler broke off a small chunk and offered it to them. It still took them both hands to hold it.

While Ghost was familiar with the concept of eating, they didn’t engage in the activity very often. They didn’t strictly need to, so long as an area had enough ambient Soul. That said, they had eaten before, but they realized that with their new mask, they probably would not be able to go about it as they usually would. Bumping the morsel against the bottom of their mask a few times confirmed this theory. Quirrel, having unlatched the bottom of his own mask, was watching them inquisitively as he ate his lunch.

With a huff, the tiny wanderer plopped down, broke the chunk of plant matter in half over their leg, and promptly shoved one half into their eye socket. Quirrel choked. “What-” he broke into a coughing fit, “-in Wyrm’s name—” Clearing his throat, the pillbug hesitantly started again. “Is that.. normal, for you?” Balancing the other half of the provided food in one hand, they made a so-so gesture. “...Okay. I’m going to trust that it doesn’t hurt you to do that.” Ghost gave what they hoped was a reassuring nod before consuming the rest of their meal. Quirrel glanced away and continued eating.

While waiting for their traveling companion to finish, Ghost considered what they wanted to do next. Obviously, the biggest priority was to get back to normal so that they could continue their journey. How to go about that wasn’t so obvious, though. Maybe if the mask broke, they’d appear back on a bench in their regular form, like always. The issues with that plan were that, one, they could never be certain that something wouldn’t go wrong, and two, Quirrel had never seen them die before, and they didn’t want to scar him by doing it in his presence.

The knight rubbed at their mask thoughtfully. It still felt artificial compared to their old shell, but they were getting used to it with time. Speaking of their shell, why hadn’t it disappeared when they last died? They had never previously found broken pieces of it before the one in their inventory. Maybe they went into reforming their body back at the last bench they had sat in. If they didn’t need a shell to come back to, it would make sense for the shards to not go anywhere.

They took out the one they were in possession of and focused on it. (The regular kind of focus, not the Soul-infusing kind. Until they got a new nail, they didn’t have any Soul to Focus.) It felt familiar. It felt right to be in contact with. It felt alive. It felt connected to them. It felt… incomplete. The next thing they knew, Ghost was hugging the pale shard. A large dark hand hovered nearby. They leaned into it sadly.

Quirrel had set the last few bites of his ration in his lap to give his friend a meaningful look. “Don’t worry Ghost, we’ll get this figured out, no matter how long it takes.” They felt a gentle pat and sighed, putting the shard back away. They hoped the connection they had to it would hold, not knowing what would happen if it didn’t.

The bug whose knee they currently rested upon quickly picked up and finished off his bar, then set about rewrapping the rest and stowing them back in his satchel. “Well then,” he started, with cheer that sounded a bit forced, “while we wait for our nails, how about we discuss what to do next? Did you have anything in mind?” Wasn’t that just perfect? Ghost started to nod, then stopped and changed it to a shake of their head. They only had the one idea, but they knew he wouldn’t agree to it. They tapped at their mask, made the gesture that, for them, meant “bigger,” pointed at Quirrel, and cocked their head to one side. They wanted his thoughts.

“I’m not quite sure what you’re saying, friend. Perhaps it would be in our best interest to teach you some sign language,” he suggested. Though not what they had been expecting to hear, it did sound like a great plan. They were aware that many cultures had at least some form of nonverbal communication, but they hadn’t seen too much of any one kind, so they hadn’t had much of an opportunity to learn. What they had noticed, though, was that all of the ones that involved hand movements tended to have a lot of overlap between them, so even if their explorer friend couldn’t teach them the local version, they’d still be reasonably comprehensible to those who knew any version. Ghost nodded excitedly.

“Right then. We can get to that shortly, but before we lose our tram of thought, what were you trying to say a moment ago?” They repeated the motions for returning to normal. “I mean, of course, but do you have any ideas for how to do that?” A so-so gesture, then they once again pointed at Quirrel with a head tilt. “Oh! Are you asking for my ideas?” A nod. Quirrel looked into the distance and drummed his fingers along the bottom of his mask, then reattached it to his face when he realized he had forgotten to do so earlier.

“Well,” he started, “I’d imagine getting you out of this situation shouldn’t be too different from how you got into it. We get you a new mask, reminiscent of your old shell, and then we, ahem, transfer you into it.” Ghost stared blankly at him for a moment, then gave a single, decisive nod. That made a lot of sense, actually. They were a little surprised it hadn’t crossed their mind before.

“The most logical next step, then, would be to pay another visit to the Mask Maker.” Nod. “Let’s go see if our nails are done, then we can get right to that.” The pillbug offered his palm, waited for the wanderer to get themself situated, and walked back up to the hut where the Nailsmith was still clanging away.

“Hi, we just wanted to quickly check in on-”

“Wall to your left.”

A glance to the left revealed two nails, both sharper than a Garpede’s mandibles and one shining with freshly smelted Pale Ore. “Well, that was quick,” Quirrel remarked.

“I finished a few minutes ago.”

“...Ah,” the pillbug said intelligently before retrieving his nail and returning it to its place at his hip. He then picked up the tiny nail next to it and handed it to Ghost. The length of the blade in comparison to their body size was about the same as their regular nail was with Mark of Pride equipped. The weight and balance felt almost exactly right. Though not perfect, it was more than enough.

After carefully looking the reforged nail over, the knight hopped in excitement and pointed out through the door. Quirrel once again thanked the Nailsmith, and the explorers left to go test out the new weapon. After that, they'd take the Stag to Deepnest and see about getting the Ghost of Hallownest a new mask (again).

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

“I’m out of material,” the Mask Maker deadpanned. For once, they weren’t working on anything.

Quirrel sputtered for a moment. From their position on the corner of the artisan's desk, Ghost slumped. “What do you mean you’re ‘out of material?!’”

“I’ve used it all in crafting masks. If you wish to fix the mess the small one has gotten itself into, you’ll have to bring me more. Until then, I cannot help you.” “...What kind of material do you need?” the traveler asked, exasperation coloring his voice.

“Usually, shellwood. For the type of mask it currently bears, a solidified mixture of ash and powdered shell. Ideally, to most accurately recreate its original face, you would need to provide a large quantity of shell from similar beings."

That sounded a bit difficult, to say the least. Ghost had only seen one other being like themself up to that point, and they only had one shard of their own shell. The other pieces were, presumably, with the Collector. As for the ash, they felt like they had seen some somewhere, but they struggled to recall where exactly. Wherever it was, they probably hadn’t been there for long.

"I suppose we'd best be off to go do that then," Quirrel sighed. Once the little wanderer leapt back into his satchel, he turned and left. Looking back as he walked, Ghost saw the Mask Maker pull out a block of shellwood from under their work table and start chiseling. They let out a long, marginally annoyed breath and sank further into their textile-based shelter.

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

Yeah that one took a while, sorry

but anyway

have some setup for a resolution of the main conflict! they know what they’re doing now, it’s just gonna take them a while to do it

oh, and here’s a reminder that Quirrel still doesn’t have his memories back. he does, however, still use certain Hallownestian phrases (”what in wyrm’s name”) because. uh. they’re just sort of ingrained into his vernacular, even if he doesn’t really understand why at this point.

I do have a lot more ideas for this au, but that’s as far as I have planned for this particular fic. next up: noms, then probably oneshots from various points in time later in the au. some will have noms, some won’t.

Thanks for reading! Feedback would be appreciated, so long as you’re respectful about it. Asks are open.

————–

DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weightgain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

#my writing #tw bugs #g/t fic #hk g/t #vore mention #traveler and tiny ghost au #tatg au

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thrillridesz · 3 years ago

Text

fanfic writer’s tag game!

thank you belle @sankyeom for the tag! ^^

01. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

tbz and nct are the only fandoms I have ever written for haha

02. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

the boyz and nct

03. how long have you been writing?

I had been writing on and off on wattpad with OCs when I was like 14 but I got into writing fanfiction in September 2019, stopped but started again last year.

04. on which platforms do you post your stories?

tumblr

05. what is your favorite genre to write?

horror/thriller. i’ve wrote a lot of fluff in the past but i’m starting to think that I want to branch out to other genres. angst is pretty fun to write but it takes up a lot of energy.

06. are you a pantser or a planner?

a bit of both? i used to be more of a pantser but now i like to plan my stories more for cohesiveness’s sake

07. one-shot or multiple-chapter?

one-shot lol i don’t have the patience and motivation to write series though I’m attempting one right now (check out obsessed pls)

08. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

1.5k to 2.5k

09. what is your longest published story?

33.8k words i think?

10. what story did you enjoy working on the most?

it's a completed younghoon serial killer!au story that is still sitting in my drafts just waiting to be published

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

my kissing booth jacob oneshot!

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

supportive best friends and using weather as a mood setter

13. current number of wips?

too many to count

14. three things you’ve noticed about your writing?

I like to go in depth in describing emotions and regularly use metaphors and imagery to illustrate it properly

I’m big on dialogue

I like plot twists

15. a quote you like from a published story?

maybe i just like breaking my own heart with angst lol

As you muttered the words ‘I do’, Kevin felt his heart shatter once and for all into a million little pieces, irreparable and unsalvageable.

16. a quote from an unpublished story?

from 'the secrets we share' (younghoon fic)

His features are pristine, sharp. Lips split and bloodied, there is an angry, red bloody slash across his right cheekbone but he doesn’t seem to be in pain. If anything, there is a sadistic glint in those dark eyes of his and those very same lips are twisted into a deranged and mocking smile. His white teeth shine under the light and before you can even do anything, he bolts at the turn of the alley.

17. space for you to say something to your readers

hey there, thank you so much for reading my works and supporting me in what i do! i know i don’t say this nearly enough but i appreciate every like, reblog and feedback that i can get very dearly and it always makes my day to know that my writing has brought a smile to your face :) you are the people that have made me fall deeper in love with writing and grown to become attached to my blog and this community in general, giving me sort of a safe space to come to when i wish to escape from reality. idk if you guys realise how much you all have helped me inadvertently make my life so much more fulfilled and meaningful. i love you all sincerely with all my heart.

tagging some new (and old) moots: @kyuflix @changminurheart @starrytxt @nyuwings @trashlord-007 @ateez-elena

#lovely moots #sankyeom #belle 🍃#tag games

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tomatograter · 5 years ago

Note

Do you have a list anywhere of your favorite hs fics?

I suppose it’s appropriate I make one now! will prolly come back to add on at some point, but as it stands

HERE’S THE FIC RECS: (it is quite long, click the readmore)

Last updated Sept 10 2021 !

Perpetuity => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835047

Written pre-epilogues, largely about mending damaged bridges after the game. I always mention this fic as what settled me back into hs as a fandom and dirk/jake

A Palate Cleanser => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642637

The jake eulogy we missed on candy. it’s real good. (now with a podfic version on the second chapter!!!!)

It’s only a canvas sky

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718544

Their guardians dead at the hands of the Condesce, growing up in the shadow of her slow takeover of the Skaian Federation, Dirk Strider and Jake English have spent their whole lives alone up until shortly before their twelfth birthdays.

Or: Dirk fixes a transmitter, makes a friend, builds a robot, and tries to communicate affection over distance to the barest possible minimum.

(A good mix of fluff/angst/yearning, captures early & friendship dirkjake REALLY well, a good analogue au to their canon upbringing!!)

Sburgatoria => https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726822/chapters/49242167

What if we were four lesbians stuck in an uncanny valley real housewives purgatory-esque-suburbia and we bickered then kissed 😳

Prologos

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961157

“Sadstuck for the discerning jakeliker”

Magnesium Ion, Porphyrin Ring => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787465/chapters/51988876

Jade + Jake exploration throughout their growing up years, the relationship they had to their guardians and to one another between split realities and time.

I Know What You Think Of Me => https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516589

You never knew you wanted vriska and jake to be friends but now…. you do! and they’re going to gut a mountain of salmon to get there. Hilariously masterful vrisrezi to boot.

What Happens In-Between =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240424/chapters/58409713

i KNOW you aren’t done with jaded fisheries observer vriska just yet and for that i’m thankful to say, we have a sequel, and dirk is in it to her great annoyance

Drive it home with one headlight => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281412/chapters/45856705

The Hitchhikers Guide to Your Ex-Boyfriend ==>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747519/chapters/62875855

EXTENSIVELY ILLUSTRATED!!!! Post-canon fanadventure focusing on jake, brain ghost dirk, and a very concerned third party inhabiting jake’s brain that isn’t all too happy with the current turn of dubiously canon events. Still updating, very fun and smart.

The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886581/chapters/42220607

DIRK AND VRISKA. PIRACY. SONG. HOES (JAKE)

Sea shanties for Thots (Four kings sequel) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210135/chapters/53028541

jake needs to adjust to his new life and occupation overseas, ft; more songs, more piracy, and schrodinger’s hoe. Extensively jake-introspective, told through his POV.

Song of the Pyre =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875459/chapters/24161439

EPIC SCALE vrisrezi space opera ft. hardass legislacerator Terezi & outlaw Vriska being forced to work together after they sort-of-accidentally kill terezi’s shitty clown ex. Feelings are caught, trials are held, there’s a revolution coming. Delightfully written. Reads as pretty solid and complete despite the 19/21 chapters done - ACT 1 counts as a book of its own, ACT 2 is solid.

Pilot Light, Pale rapture (full series) => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403233

“They want you on Olympus, they want you on a faraway star watching the planet turn benignly. They want the original Gods in the four corners of the earth, protectors in an invisible palace. “And the Witch sat vigil in her southern eastmost realm, looking down upon her descendants,” they’d say, “and saw that it was good.

You do not have an Olympus. You have a house that smells like burnt toast, because Davepeta did just that only an hour ago.”

Prospit kids + Really Good and Fun earth C shenanigans ensue. Incredible insightful exploration on Jade, her childhood, and mostly what happens after the curtains close and she finally has time to be awake.

After Meat, Aftermath. (full series) => https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420354

In one universe, college!au Rose lalonde takes barre classes. In another, arguably more relevant one, Rosebot peers into her life. this will lead to inevitable chaos. incredible rose + kanaya + vriska + jake + dirk focus and one of my fav AU’s.

*below are my favorite dirk-focused works:*

Detective Pony

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427119/chapters/5371283

At first I didn’t include this one, having taken for granted that everyone had read it already, but I think as of ‘21 the fandom is a bit different and not many have. Facts being: this is the definitive solo Dirk Strider story; seamless with the detective pony book dirk edits in homestuck-proper, deeply indulgent, funny, and cathartic, one might even say. Also an audiobook and a webseries, if that’s more up to your speed!

A Eulogy for Laplace’s Demon (After Meat, Aftermath spinoff) =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047735/chapters/47475769

A good jump-in point for AM,A but hugely more focused on dirk arguing with his own demons. Doesn’t pull any punches.

Dualshock Desertbloom =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428552/chapters/43651733

Dirk wakes up in a scalding liminal space and splinters his beta self out of his body like an amoeba parting in two. It’s a Predicament. They have to learn how to cohabitate if they want to try to figure out what the fuck is going on, and Dirk can’t help but prod and poke around to learn more about his twisted-funhouse-mirror-self along the way. Really meaty character-study, some of my favorite dirkvoice (and brovoice) passages are definitely all over here.

House of Dirk => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156126/cha pters/45530146

dirk and caliborn, in a sitcom, holding hands. nothing bad could ever possibly happen

Timaeus, Testified. => https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479223/chapters/46368625

“go crazy go stupid!!!!!!” - dirk strider, metamonster

*Fun / short / thoughtful stories:*

Two idiots at Homoville, N69, TX

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130925

Dirk freaks out and goes on r/relationships to try and figure out how to mend the semi-relationship he has with his weird roommate. (hint: his name starts with J)

Light Without Effulgence

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986289

Rose is having a writer’s block. Jake is bored in the middle of his family’s own vacation. They sit down to mercilessly pick at each other’s brains, and the results may surprise you (not clickbait)

Interrogating the text from the wrong perspective => https://archiveofourown.org/works/615521

(Calliope and Rose have fandom wars. Its really funny)

Witching Hour => https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620732

Eschewal => https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284384

jake goes ham

Dreamscapers => https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455073/chapters/53653849

Stygian blue =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946412/chapters/57588850

Terezi and brain ghost Vriska have a conversation. (illustrated!!!)

Bitter =>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30871334

Jaw-dropping JadeRose comic oneshot; meta, jealousy, crushes, and girls being a little off.

*FANADVENTURE CORNER:*

CHOICELESS HOPE

==> https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100313/chapters/68850048#workskin

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE.

You have been searching the depths of the FURTHEST RING for CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND, PRETEENHOOD NEMESIS, TEEN SWEETDIAMOND, and POSSIBLE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE, VRISKA SERKET, for what may or may not have been THREE MONTHS.

Near the start of her search for Vriska, Terezi is offered a choice.

KITTYQUEST

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=32792&p=2

Centuries in the future, the daughter of jade harley and davepeta pierces together what it is like to grow up knowing your parents and much of your extended family are immortal beings. Incredible art, lots of really really fun cameos and incredible worldbuilding (Not epilogue compliant, barely credits compliant, remains one of my favorite extended pocket universes to this day.)

FAILURE TO LAUNCH

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=34750&p=1

It’s june egbert’s first night out! From the official TV programme summary; “Starring the one and only JUNE EGBERT! Who knows what shenanigans will ensue… Wild hootenannies? Late night pizza picnics? ROMANCE??? Tune in and find out on FAILURE TO LAUNCH!” this can only ever end well, right?

THERAPYSTUCK

==> https://mspfa.com/?s=36345&p=3

That’s right, buckos. The lot of you are going to therapy. Turns out after a member of the tight-knit god community (Sollux) decides to seek a little help, more shenanigans were sure to follow.

#fic rec #updated sporadically

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amazingmsme · 5 years ago

Text

Dandelions Don’t Die

AN: It’s finally here! The much anticipated(on my part at least) vampire!jaskier fic! Buckle the fuck in cause it’s a whopper, I really wanted to make this all one fic, so it stands at 12,714 words! Wowza, I think this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever posted! Too long for me to read through & no beta, I apologize if there’s any mistakes

WARNINGS: Jaskier’s a vampire, so there’s a few mentions of blood if that sort of thing upsets you. He also kills a deer, but that’s over fairly quickly so you can skip over that if you need to.

As much as Jaskier wished it could last, he knew it couldn't. It would have to end eventually, with Geralt and Jaskier going their separate ways. He only wished it had ended on better terms. Instead they split at the mountainside, with harsh words thrown in his face. It hurt more than he ever thought it could. He had traveled back down the trail at a slow pace, matching his somber mind. He felt many things, more than he had in a long time. Anger, hurt, jealousy, guilt and sadness all swirled like a whirlpool in his head, turning his brain into a sloshing liquid that splashed against his skull with each step he took.

He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. He knew he could not feed on humans. Not only would he feel immensely bad about it, but it wouldn't be long until word spread of a vampire lurking about. And where a monster was, a certain witcher was bound to show up eventually. So he journeyed into the woods in search of an unfortunate creature.

Hunting always helped to clear his head. It had been hard to do on his travels with Geralt. He always had to find a way to slink off while the other man was busy and clean himself up before he noticed his companion was missing. At least he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. His chest ached at the thought.

Well Geralt would finally have what he wanted. To be alone. Truly alone, with only his horse to keep him company. As he thought about it, he began to miss Roach. He hadn't only grown fond of the brooding man, but his horse as well. Fuck, these next few years were going to suck. If he was lucky, he would be over this by the end of the decade. He hadn't been this down since he had first been turned. For 50 years he hasn't felt a steady beat in his chest, only the odd slow thump every five seconds or so. A stagnant muscle sitting in his chest just trying to resemble some semblance of normalcy.

He waited in the bushes, consumed by his misery. A twig snapped and he jerked his head up. He hoped beyond hope that Geralt had come to apologize, to take him up on his offer of escape, to invite him on his journeys. Instead he saw a buck enter the clearing before him. He licked his lips. He could smell the enticing scent of the deer's blood. It had been forever since he had had a real meal. He continued to eat human food to keep up appearances, but it did nothing to satisfy his hunger. It still tasted wonderful and he enjoyed the comfort, but his stomach and veins remained empty, longing for something more.

He pounced, and the poor animal didn't stand a chance. He let out a hum of relief as his teeth pierced through the pelt and flesh, sinking into the jugular. He sucked, not wanting to waste a drop. He felt himself grow stronger with each gulp. The blood was warm and thick, like syrup fresh from a tree. The satisfying tang of iron coated his mouth as he finished his feast. He wiped the remaining blood from his lips and continued on his way. To where, he did not know.

He wandered aimlessly from kingdom to kingdom, town to town. He was in every sense a lost soul. His songs were no longer jaunty tunes to sing along with, but emotional ballads that made the heart weep. People started to forget the bright eyed bard who sang the tales of the white wolf. He would hear others play them in taverns across the land, and it would always bring about a sad smile on his face. Those songs were popular, and good if he did say so himself. But they made him yearn for what once was. He couldn't have that anymore.

He heard whispers asking whatever happened to Jaskier, the bard who nobly followed Geralt of Rivia wherever he went. He sat alone in a booth, overhearing such a conversation. He himself wondered the same thing.

Everyone must die eventually, he thought to himself. He needed a fresh start, one not tied down to the ghosts of his past. It was commonplace for vampires to assume a new identity and create a fake death for their old persona. Now would be the perfect opportunity to plant the seed for his new life. He spoke up without turning to look at them.

"He died." There was a brief silence before they spoke up.

"Oh... that's a shame, he seemed like a good man. Talented too," the man in the booth behind him said. The woman at his arm chided in, "I suppose one of his journeys with the witcher didn't turn out so well."

"We'll never know I guess. At least the music will live on."

And with that, Jaskier was dead.

Word travels fast through a town, and faster by horse. It wouldn't be too long before Geralt would hear the news. Good, he wouldn't have to worry about running into him. What a mess that would be. He couldn't decide if it was bad that he hoped the man felt guilty. Make him feel as lousy as he does. He was always a little petty, and he saw no reason to change that.

He went by Amarant now. What can he say, he liked flowers. He still liked Jaskier much better, but he knew he would have to give up the name eventually. Perhaps in a hundred years or so he could take it up again. Surely Geralt will have forgotten him by then. If only he could be so lucky.

He still needed to change his appearance somehow. He had become slightly well known as the White Wolf's bard, and he didn't want to risk anyone recognizing him. The funny thing about vampires is that their appearance doesn't change... except for hair.

He really did have lovely hair. Thick and shiny and looking good in whatever style he chose. He decided to grow it out. Shoulder length was his limit, and he preferred to keep it slicked back away from his face, giving it a natural wind blown look. He also grew out some facial hair, keeping it well shaped into a handsome mustache and goatee.

He never stayed in one place for too long, always needing to find some way to fill the emptiness he felt inside, but never finding it. He enjoyed many nights with many strangers. And if most of them tended to be blonde and large in stature, well, he never mentioned it.

Amarant was making a name for himself as quite the hopeless romantic. He sang songs for the heartbroken, and lovers serenaded each other with his ballads. Even his peppier jaunts held a sad tale. He was currently between travels, resting in a poppy field as he wrote his newest song. The familiar weight of the lute sat against his chest as he strummed.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man of such beauty He wandered from place to place. In search of life and fulfillment But nothing could replace his lovers embrace.

Ooo he had a secret. His face was fair. He only travels by night and escapes from his lair.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so empty, The life faded out long ago. What a sad and weary soul Who will never grow old.

Ooo he's lost in the night. And he hides from the light, of the day. And if they knew what he was, they'd all turn away.

He liked it so far. The chords sounded right and the lyrics came from the heart. Those were his best ones. His quill dragged along the parchment in his journal, leaving black ink in spiraling letters. He continued.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so heartless. 'Twas ripped from his chest With hatred and scorn And now owns a barren breast.

Ooo a lost love can kill you With heartbreak and blade. Because a steak through the heart can kill any maid.

She was as lovely as ever, Skin pale as snow, and red lips of blood, She stole him away. A bleeding heart left to drain.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so broken, Who just went through the motions, of a pointless life.

Ooo he was doomed for infinity. Until someone sets him free, He will rest in a coffin bed.

A dead bard sings no songs. Dead men tell no tales, And dead witches can't cast spells.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so hollow. So desperate for love, he would follow. Tailing behind until the end of time.

He finished the ballad with a soft series of strums. It was short, but good. The song was just as much about him as it was about Geralt. He just hoped that people wouldn't tire of his melancholy tunes. Of course he would take requests for songs and wouldn't mind singing ones other bards had written. Wherever he went, he still received requests for the songs of the great witcher's travels. And he would sing them as his heart ached, remembering a better time.

~~~~

He wasn't the only one who longed for the comfort of the past. About two and a half years into his travels with Ciri, he heard word of Jaskier's death. They were having a quick meal in a tavern, and Geralt nursed his mug of ale, idly listening to whatever Ciri was rambling about, but not giving it too much thought. He was tired after killing the silkie that had been drowning children in the nearby river and let his mind wander.

His enhanced hearing was able to pick up a conversation from a nearby table. They seemed to be talking about the bard stood in the corner. He was singing Her Sweet Kiss. Geralt couldn't help but note that Jaskier was much more talented. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"He's butchering this song," the man said, staring at the musician with distaste. His friend nodded along.

"I know. Poor Jaskier's probably rolling in his grave."

That definitely caught his attention and his head whipped around to look. Ciri's brows furrowed with concern.

"Geralt are you-"

"Shh." He held his hand up to silence her as he listened more intently.

"It should be illegal to sing a deadman's song unless you can actually sing it."

"Cheers," the man agreed and clinked their glasses together. Geralt stood and made his way to their table. Ciri, not knowing where the situation was heading followed, ready to deescalate if need be.

"Sorry for for intruding but I couldn't help overhearing what you said about the bard, Jaskier." The men didn't seem to mind very much about his sudden appearance.

"Yeah, it's a real shame too. One of the most talented bards I've seen in my day." He looked Geralt up and down, as though just now taking him in. "Hold on a minute, you're that Witcher he was always singing about! Thought you'd be the first to know, seeing as well, y'know..." he trailed off, taking a drink from his glass.

"Mm. We parted ways some time ago. I hadn't seen him sense. Now I know why," he said gruffly. The two men shifted awkwardly, remorse clearly written on their faces.

"Well gee, I'm sorry you had to hear it from us."

"Hmm," he grunted, ready to turn away. Ciri stepped forward, asking, "How did he die?" Geralt shot her a warning look. One that she did not heed.

The first man shrugged, "Wish I could say, but no one knows. Not even sure if there's a grave."

"If there's no grave, is there a chance he could still be alive?" she asked.

"Ciri," Geralt's patience was wearing thin. With the news he just received, he was in a sour and rotten mood and just wanted to drink himself unconscious.

The other man tilted his head in thought, "I suppose so. Been hearing rumors of a traveling bard who looks strikingly similar. Apparently he sounds like him too. His songs aren't as upbeat though. More melancholy." Geralt nodded in thanks with another grunt, and grabbed Ciri to lead her back to their table.

He was even more silent than usual. Ciri began awkwardly, "I'm sorry about your friend." He didn't look at her. "Why did you two split up?" she asked, ever so curious.

"We had a fight, and I said things I shouldn't have." He stared into his empty pitcher, mind completely lost. He didn't know what to think or to feel. He needed to be numb. He waved at the bartender for another pint and nodded gratefully once he brought it to him.

"I'm sorry, I know how awful it can be when you're left on bad terms with someone close to you."

"Mmm."

"But I'm sure that despite whatever you said, he knew you still cared for him," she tried to comfort him.

"That's the thing," he said, tracing the grain of the table. "I don't think he did." He threw his head back, taking large gulps of the bitter liquid. He relished in the slight burn down his throat as his stomach began to feel warm. Ciri offered a sad smile and squeezed his hand from across the table. By the end of their meal, Geralt could barely walk straight, and Ciri had to hold him upright on their way to the inn they were currently residing.

~~~~

Amarant couldn't take it anymore. Constantly being on the road was too painful of a reminder of what he lost. Traveling was lonely, and he was not meant to be alone. Clearly that was more suiting for Geralt, seeing as how he made it clear how unwanted his company was. His feet were constantly sore, and he wanted nothing more than to find a place to settle down. Wherever it was needed to be remote. A place where he could still perform for people, but also have a decent meal without stirring suspicion of a vampire in the area. There had been too many close calls, a cow here, two or three sheep there, all drained of blood leaving angry farmers. He tried not to make a habit of feeding on livestock, but there were times when he was desperate and starving. And there were many nights spent with beautiful strangers that were all too tempting. The hot and fresh scent of blood hanging in the air after sex. He knew their veins were full; he could feel their pulse against his skin. The flush on their cheeks made them look as delicious as the ripest apple, just waiting for him to sink his teeth into it. But he always resisted the temptation.

Even after everything, he still felt the call of the sea. Everything about it just seemed so appealing. The seclusion, the serenity, the sirens... it was exactly what he needed. But traveling that far on foot would take ages. He needed a horse. He was a day out from the nearest town, he supposed he could start over and be there by noon tomorrow. He had enough coin saved up from playing to buy himself a descent mare.

He watched the sun's light fade out through the branches in the forest and decided to set up camp for now. He was still full from the badger he had drank from earlier, so he focused on building a fire.

It was funny: there were many things about vampires that he discovered were false, and others that held true. Sunlight: not a problem. Sure he'd grow a little more pink than normal if he stayed out too long, but that's what sleeves and hats were for. He could still see his reflection, thank the gods for that. He doesn't think he could live forever without seeing his own pretty face. Silver didn't burn all too badly, in fact the pain was almost nice. A satisfying sting that dug into his skin and left a small welt.

Then there were the things that were completely true. Garlic was awful. Vampires had an enhanced sense of smell and the potency of the vegetable damaged the sensitive nerves, and if it were to be consumed, it would act as a poison. So basically, he was allergic. Oh well he was never a big fan of it anyway. Vampires and werewolves really did hate each other. Enough said. Gods he hated those snarling fucks. He hasn't aged a day since his turning, and his skin grew paler. He definitely felt more lively at night, and his canines were sharper that the average human's. Despite all of this, no one has suspected him of being a vampire, to the best of his knowledge.

By now the sun had set, and the remaining orange of the sun's fleeting light melted into the purple of dusk. Between the leaves above him he watched as stars danced into view. The warmth of the fire kissed his chilled skin as he let his thoughts wonder. And just as always, his mind immediately went to Geralt.

They had just finished setting up camp for the night. Geralt had gotten a few deep gashes from the minotaur he had finished slaying, and sat silently as Jaskier patched him up. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to Jaskier's chastising words.

"You know bard, I would much prefer your singing than scolding right now."

Jaskier scoffed, "Oh would you now? That's a first." He held the needle in his hand close to the fire to sterilize it some before sewing the wounds shut. "Any requests?" he asked, his tongue poking out between his lips as he focused on threading the needle.

"Hmm. Maybe a new one?" he asked, watching as he brought the tool closer to his skin. Jaskier chuckled at that.

"Ohoho that's rich. Normally when I try to compose a new song you tell me to shut it."

"I'm not right now," Geralt stated. That made Jaskier pause in his movements, looking up to meet his eyes. They were still black from the potions having not wore off quite yet. He swallowed thickly.

"Right. Well then, I can, uh, come up with a new one," he said. He was still looking into his pitch dark eyes, feeling himself get lost. He was pulled back out when Geralt grunted and asked, "What?"

Jaskier cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just that, ah, your eyes look very nice right now," he admitted with a hint of a smile. Geralt tilted his head, a frown etching it's way onto his face.

"What?"

"Yeah, I can see my reflection perfectly. They've never looked more lovely," he recovered. When Geralt let out a snort of amusement, he let out an internal sigh of relief. He couldn't let himself slip up like that again. As he continued stitching him up, he started singing about his latest battle.

Geralt closed his eyes, listening to his voice raise through the air over the crackling of the fire. The dim glow illuminated his features and cast shadows under his jaw. Jaskier didn't dare let his gaze linger for too long.

"There, all better!" he chirped, standing up to stretch. Geralt examined the fresh scar stretching across his chest before he laid down in the soft grass.

"Look at the stars," he said. Jaskier tilted his head up to do so, letting out a soft gasp. They were absolutely beautiful. He had never seen so many of them, all twinkling and dazzling in the night. The sky itself was a swirling array of colors, full of royal blues and purples with a touch of light blue and green. "Come. Lay down, you deserve to rest." He did as he said, laying next to him. They simply laid there, looking up at the sky, content in saying nothing.

It was Jaskier who broke the silence. "Y'know, one day I bet you'll have a constellation up there." Geralt raised his eyebrows with a hum.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, all the greatest heroes and legends end up there eventually. And with all the monsters you've slain, there's no doubt in my mind you'll join them," he said honestly. Geralt was quiet, not knowing what to say to that. Another bout of silence had fallen over the two. This time, it was Geralt who interrupted the quiet, surprisingly.

"Have you ever considered making a song about the stars?" he asked.

"Uhh, no not really," Jaskier admitted. "But now I think I might."

Geralt turned to look at him, tearing his gaze away from the universe. "I'd like to hear it when you do." Jaskier's lips upturned into a breathless smile.

"Alright."

Amarant wiped away his tears at the memory. He reached for his lute, and began his star song. He let all of his emotions surge forth in a beautiful melody. A rustle from the brush startled him, and his hand stilled. His enhanced vision allowed him to peer into the dark, and he scanned for the source of the noise. He could barely make out the outline of a dark horse and relaxed. He went back to his singing, and the creature wandered closer. He smiled as he played, seeing as it enjoyed his music. He sucked in a sharp breath upon seeing it step into the light.

She was tall and stout, with a shining black coat that glistened in the firelight. Her mane was long and wavy, and her tail draped to the floor, looking as soft as spun silk. But what really drew his eye was the grayish blue horn atop her head that held a pearlescent glow.

His knowledge of unicorns was limited, but he knew they could be dangerous if spooked. They were incredibly loyal creatures once they formed a bond, but the chance of ever seeing one in person was incredibly low. He supposed they acted like a normal horse personality wise, but that was just speculation. He slowly set his lute on the ground. The unicorn tossed her head with a small whiny, pawing the ground with her hoof. He held his hands out in front of him in a cautious gesture.

"Easy girl." His footing was careful, bringing him closer to the beautiful creature while still keeping a respectable distance. "My aren't you gorgeous," he said in awe. She hesitated before closing the distance between them. He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief and brought his hand up to pet her head. "I-I can't believe this... What on earth did I do to possibly deserve being graced with your presence, hm?" he questioned. He got no response. "Perhaps my life is finally getting back on track."

After petting her for another minute or two, she shoved past him not so gently and stood by the log he had been sitting on. His lute was propped against it, and she dipped her head down to inspect it. He nervously made his way over, neither wanting to scare her away or harm his beloved instrument, and carefully picked it up.

"Ah, so you like my tunes. Perhaps you'll stick around," he mused, and got a soft neigh in agreement. He couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. "Say, what's your name? An animal as lovely as you deserves to have a beautiful name. How about Ember?" he asked. She let out a snort in apparent disgust. "Ok so that's a no... "Galaktyka?" He could tell he was closer that time by her silence, but still not quite there. He tried different names, getting varying degrees of disscontempt. He thought about how he was playing his star song when she appeared, and he lit up. "Gwiazda?"

She threw her head back, whinnying with excitement that rubbed off on him. "Gwiazda it is!" He settled in for the night, feeling much better than he had earlier. He wasn't sure if she would still be around by morning, but regardless it will have been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him.

He awoke in the morning to the feeling of soft nibbling at the back of his neck. He began to stir, a few tired giggles slipping out at the tickly feeling. His eyes fluttered open and met a pair of large blue ones. Before he could let himself be startled, be remembered the previous night.

"Good morning beautiful girl!" he greeted happily. She gave soft snort in reply and tried to press their foreheads together, causing Amarant to duck to avoid her horn. He chuckled and stroked the side of her head before standing up. "I don't suppose you plan on sticking around," he joked as he packed up his camp. There weren't many things to gather, so he was done rather quickly. He gave her one last pat before he went on his way. To his surprise, he wasn't alone.

"I'm just going to warn you now, I don't know what will happen if townspeople see you, but I can't imagine it would be good. And it's not like I can put a hat on you," he wondered aloud. She nipped at his sleeve to get his attention, and he watched in amazement as the horn vanished before his eyes. "Huh, problem solved. Now if you're going to come with me to the coast, which let's face it, you probably are, am I right? I'll need to buy a saddle and some feed. You're not too picky for plain oats, right?" The rest on the journey to the town was filled with more one sided conversations just like this. As was the rest of the journey to the sea.

~~~~

After about two weeks, they made it to the coast. Amarant sat atop Gwiazda as the vast expanse of blue stretched over the horizon. For the first time in forever it seems, things felt right. He leaned forward and patted her neck before pressing onward. Together they moved down the rocky cliff towards the shore until they reached the sand. The fine earth shifted beneath her heavy hooves, kicking up slightly with each step.

He took a deep breath through his nose, enjoying all of the fresh and earthy scents. Salt and dead fish mixed together to create an unpleasantly pleasant smell. The kind where you commented on how bad it is, only to take another whiff. He wondered to himself if he would enjoy fish blood as much as he enjoyed seafood. The tide pools were teeming with life, which would allow him to be able to feed whenever he needed. He would no longer have to worry about townsfolk catching him with their livestock.

Amarant dismounted Gwiazda, standing beside her as he took off his boots. He dug his feet a little into the sand, enjoying the feeling. It was soft and comforting. They walked closer to the water, watching the waves crash along the shore. Amarant purposefully walked so that his feet were in the water. The cool sea washed over his feet, sometimes up to his ankles, before retreating. The frothy foam barely had time to absorb into the sand before another wave brought forth more.

Ahead of him he spotted a cave at the bottom of a cliff, far enough away from the shore that it would remain dry during high tide. "I think we found our new home, girl," he said, patting her side. She tossed her head with a small neigh in agreement. After settling in and unloading his belonging into the cave, they went out to watch the setting sun. Amarant found a tide pool close by and sat on the edge. He kicked his feet gently in the water, dipping a hand in every once in a while and skimmed the top with his fingers. He watched the small ripples trailing after his hand, disturbing the peace.

Gwiazda was laying on the beach next to him, rolling in the sand. She was obviously enjoying herself as well. He watched as the fading light glistened on the water, spotting something in the distance. In a flash, it disappeared, followed by a splash. Who knows what it was, the ocean was full of creatures, and even more monsters. The sun was now resting on the horizon, beginning its journey to the unseen. Darkness would soon be upon them. That was when it was safest to hunt, and he was so very hungry.

A sudden voice startled him.

"You can't stay here." He jumped, turning to look at the owner of those words.

"Why? Is someone else living in that cave?" he asked.

"Well no-" she started, and he cut her off

"Then I see no reason to leave."

"You really shouldn't be here you know. It's not safe for sweet little boys so close to sea," she purred, propping herself up on her elbows at the edge of the tide pool.

Amarant scoffed, "Oh yeah, and what are you? An expert?"

She tilted her head in amused annoyance. "Considering I live here, yes I am." She raised herself up and sat on the edge of the rocks, putting her long shimmering tail on display. He couldn't help but stare.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you? Staring's rude." Amarant quickly tore his gaze away from her scales, only to find he had to tear them away from her bare chest. Not daring to look anywhere else, he locked eyes with her.

"My apologies, it's just- well, it's very beautiful." She gave a genuine smile before turning it into something more sly. More sinister.

"Why thank you," she said, and scooted closer. "We sirens are known for our beauty. Everything about us from our scales to our voices is exquisite. It makes it easier to lure our prey." She leaned in, "Does it scare you?"

"No." He easily held her gaze as she snarled, her spines sticking out of her back quivered.

"Why not? Do you not think that I could pull you under the water and keep you there until you drown?"

Amarant smirked, "I know you can, and I've no doubt that you've done it many times. But I've met many monsters. If anything, it's you who should be scared." She let out a laugh.

"What could you possibly do to me? I didn't see you unpack any weapons, and a human could never overpower a siren." She took a moment to look him over. "Especially not one who looks so... soft." She stroked a hand across his cheek as she spoke. Amarant put his hand atop hers.

"What makes you so sure I'm human?" This caught her attention, a spark of intrigue flashed across her pupils.

"If you're not human, what are you?"

Amarant figured, what the hell, it's been a while since he had a good night of fun. Not to mention he's never slept with a siren, and he very much wanted to change that. He gripped her arms, tugging her towards him a little roughly, but still playful enough to be flirty. She let out a giggly gasp as he growled and bared his sharp teeth.

"Guess." She stared at him with wide eyes before pulling him in, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. He returned it with the same amount of passion, gently guiding her down until they were both laying.

That night they spent it on the sand underneath the stars. The cool breeze brushed against their heated skin. She had transformed after crawling out of the water, and their legs were tangled together as she laid her head on his chest. His hand traced idle patterns on her back as he hummed. She looked down at him, "You're a singer?"

"Yes, and a good one if I say so myself. And I do," he joked. "Though I'm sure it's nothing compared to you."

She smiled, "Yes well, you're only human," she teased.

"I'm Amarant by the way," he said.

"Aquaria."

He looked into her bright blue eyes, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Amarant hoped this would be the first of many nights. Thankfully it was. They didn't put a label on what they had. It was a relationship based on sex and the occasional friendly conversation. She had told him what it was like underneath the waves, the beautiful cities and sea life, the terrifying depths and monsters. In return, he told her about his travels and about the people on land. He even told her about Geralt, from their meeting up until their unfortunate departure. Aquaria offered sympathy and comfort. They made quite a few songs together, though there were some notes that he just couldn't hit. She was a good friend, and he enjoyed her company. Sadly, not everything lasts forever.

They were sitting on a rock in the cave, braiding Gwiazda's mane and tail. The seasons were beginning to change now. The leaves were warm vibrant colors instead of the lush green of summer, and they were starting to fall to the ground. Aquaria looked out of the cave's mouth with a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong love? You need me to fetch you a pail of water?" Amarant asked. Sometimes she got too tired or cranky when she was out of the water for too long. She shook her head.

"Thank you, but no I'm fine. It's just, I'm going to have to go soon," she said. Her voice was low, a sad weight clinging to her words.

"Oh." His face fell just the slightest. He knew all along that this would happen, but he wished it wasn't so soon.

"The water's getting cold, and me and my choir are are heading south for the time being. I'm not sure we'll be coming back." She looked over and him, and he quickly dried his eyes from the forming tears.

"Yes well, I hope you have fun, it sounds like it's going to be lovely." She reached out a hand to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. "Don't be sad, it was fun while it lasted. And besides, a vampire and siren could never make it work. Not really." He chuckled and met her eyes.

"Maybe not, but it made a damn good song."

"Indeed it did. One of my favorites."

"It also seems to be one of the town's favorites too." They shared a sweet, chaste kiss. When their lips parted, she asked, "Can we sing it one last time?"

"Of course," he answered.

"When a monster of the night Leaves his cozy cave. After the light of day Slowly fades away.

When a creature from the deep Rises from the sea. Up upon the sand Out of waves she creeps.

Ooooh his teeth graze her scales, She tries to pull him under. Under the waves, With her siren song.

He fights the growing urge To plunge his fangs into her flesh. So he stops short of his quest And pauses in his feast.

Upon the beach they lay Next to a dim cave. A deadly love Destined to kill.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

People love hard, But monsters love harder. You better hide darling, Before you become a martyr.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

Because monsters hate hard But people hate harder. You better hide darling, Before you become a martyr.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

A forbidden enchanted love Of magic and monsters. A beautiful siren And her charming vampire."

It was their song, meant for each other. It was all true: no matter how compassionate a monster or beast could be, the villagers always wanted them dead. But as soon as you put something to music, they all suddenly changed their tune.

"You need to go out more. Meet other people and share your music."

"I do that," Amarant most definitely didn't whine. She placed a comforting hand on his chest.

"I know, but you barely leave the cave. It's not good for you."

"Need I remind you that the sun hurts?" he raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes fondly and pinched his cheek.

"I don't see you complaining about it when we go swimming."

"That's because we're together," he said. Her smile turned a bit sad.

"I'm sure we'll meet again. It's a small world after all, and I doubt you'll die anytime soon," she teased.

"True. But I'll miss you all the same."

"And I'll miss you too." They kissed once more. When they broke away, she reached behind her back for her bag. She put it in his hands, and there was a substantial weight to it. When he moved his hands he could hear the soft jingle of clinking metal.

"I want you to take this. Buy yourself that lyre you were talking about." He opened the satchel and gasped. It was full of gold coin, some still covered it moss and wrapped in seaweed.

"H-how..." he trailed off.

"There's quite a few shipwrecks, and you'd be surprised at just how much coin gets lost at sea."

He looked at her, love and adoration clear in his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he wrapped her in a warm hug. "Every time I play it, I'll think of you."

"You better hurry before the shops close," she said. He hopped up, bag still in hand.

"Yes, of course. Gwiazda!" he called, and she trotted over. She mounted her in one swift easy motion. He held out his hand to help Aquaria up, but she remained where she sat. She gave him a look. "Oh," he said in realization. This was goodbye.

"We both know it'll be easier this way," she admitted. He nodded, knowing it to be true but not liking it anymore than she did.

"'Til we meet again," he said.

"Until then," she sighed heavily. She rose up, walking over to him. He leant down to share one final kiss. He rode out of the cave and into town, knowing exactly where he needed to go to buy the instrument. He was lucky that the small ocean side town had such a place.

He returned to an empty cave.

It was sadistically humorous, he thought, how everyone he had truly cared for left him in some way.

~~~~

Geralt was dealing with a lot of emotions. Emotions a witcher shouldn't have, yet he felt all the same. He truly was heartbroken at hearing of his bard's passing. Yet he didn't want to believe it. He was feeling incredibly guilty and angry at himself for driving Jaskier away. He made sure that he would not make the same mistake with Ciri. He saw much of Jaskier in her, funny enough. The two loved to talk, rambling on about anything that crossed their minds. They were bright and cheery, and their smile could light up a room. It was even able to warm his once cold heart.

Now he was angrier, less willing to engage in conversation with Ciri. She definitely picked up on it. He could smell it on her; the concern, the sadness, the fear for his well being. He kept assuring her he was fine, but the fact that he was doing so just proved he wasn't.

He worked more often now, taking fewer and shorter breaks between jobs. Ciri told him to slow down, to pace himself. He told her he knew what he was doing and didn't need to be mothered. She just scoffed and told him it wouldn't be the worst thing if was. She definitely reminded him of Jaskier, and it hurt.

They were on their way to their next hunt when Ciri spoke up. "When are you going to admit you're not okay?" she questioned. His head whipped around to look at her.

"I'm fine," he insisted through clenched teeth.

"You clearly aren't though! I know witchers aren't good with emotions, but I also know he was your friend. It's not healthy to keep it all in like this," she said.

"Well it's worked for me before. And it will pass. In time," he added.

"You know as well as I do that that's not good."

"Hm." And that was the last he'd say on the subject. Until she would inevitably bring it up again. However their attention was preoccupied as they approached the nest of sirens that had been bothering seemingly everyone in the nearby town. Singing at all hours of the night, letting no one rest, and drawing a few people away from their families and into the water where they drowned.

They both shoved cotton in their ears to be protected from their songs. Geralt could easily spot the signs that they had taken root in the river and readied his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Witcher," came an unexpected noise from above. In the branches of a close tree, a siren laid wrapped in the entangled vines stretched across the limbs. Her large wings were spread out, basking in the sun the top of the canopy provided. "Me and my family have done nothing wrong."

Geralt slid his sword back into its hilt seeing that she was capable of reason. "The villagers seem to think otherwise." She had to laugh.

"Don't they always?"

"You've lured men and women down to the river to drown them," he deadpanned. She gasped in mock offense.

How rude to throw such accusations at me, I've done nothing of the sort!" There was a beat of silence in which Geralt looked extremely unamused. "Okay I can't say the same for the others, but it's what we're meant to do."

"What will it take to make you all leave without having to kill you?" he cut to the chase.

"Well I think just saying that will do the trick," she said, and both Geralt and Ciri could hear the tinge of fear in her voice. She flew back down to the water, propping her elbows on the bank. She rested her head in her hands, studying him. "You're Geralt, aren't you?" she asked. The questioned seemed to grab his attention.

"Yes. How did you know?" his voice was gruff one warning.

"I heard stories from a dear friend. He speaks quite fondly of you." She smirked to herself when she saw his entire frame stiffen as he took a step closer.

"What-" his voice was barely audible, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "What's his name?"

She studied him before deciding it was safe to talk. Amarant. Though it's not his true name, just what he chooses to go by," she explained. Geralt's heart leaped at the prospect of Jaskier still being alive.

"Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me." He bent down and shook her hand. "But you and your choir better find a new home before another witcher shows up and isn't as merciful," he warned. She nodded and swam off downstream.

Geralt and Ciri continued on their trek across the continent with a renewed vigor. Geralt began to talk a little more, and if you squinted hard enough it seemed as though there was the slightest pep in his step. He stopped acting rash and too bold on hunts, making more sensible moves and efficient kills. Just the faintest glimmer of hope had changed the man completely.

~~~~

Geralt wasn't the only one who had heard word of Jaskier's demise. Yennefer felt conflicted; while she was never close with the man and didn't particularly like him, she knew that he meant something to Geralt. And their bickering relationship full of teases and insults was a fun dynamic to play off of, and she was saddened to hear that he died so young. Humans were fragile beings and she would need to get used to hearing of the deaths of people she once knew.

She was gathering ingredients. Her inventory was growing low, and she needed to build up her stock. She had already been to the mountains and forests, gathering what she needed. Her tiresome journey had lead her to the coast. She would probably stay for a few more days to find what she needs and rest up in an inn.

She sat by herself at the tavern, enjoying her meal in peace. Music flowed through the room as people sang along with a bard in the corner, tossing their coin freely. She rolled her eyes, figuring it would be wiser for them to keep their money for their selves. Whoever was singing did sound good, she'd give them that, but people threw away their coin too easily. I mean, all they do is sing and pluck a few chords, it's not that hard. She tore off a piece of bread, popping it in her mouth to chew.

She finally raised her head, tearing her gaze away from her plate and scanned the room. People sat at tables, enjoying their meals while a crowd formed in front of a makeshift stage. She saw a flash of brown hair and blue eyes. She did a double take, squinting her eyes to peer above the crowd. A familiar lute sat in a chair near a corner, while the man swayed back and forth, strumming on a lyre. His song was sad and sweet, bringing a few patrons to tears. There was only one voice she knew that sounded like that.

Yennefer stood and worked her way through the people until she could see the man fully. Hair grown out to his shoulders, facial hair trimmed into a stylish goatee, and eyes as blue as the sky itself. He wore a flowing cream colored blouse with tights that hugged his body in all of the right places, and topped it all off with a purple hat. He looked different, but it was undoubtedly Jaskier.

He was singing a newer song, but one that she had heard all the same. People humming the tune from town to town, and a bard here or there performing it. She took her time to listen to the lyrics, and I mean really listen. Hearing each struck chord, processing the words and their meanings, watching his expression as he sang. She couldn't tell if the song was about himself or Geralt.

She saw him scan the small group, and it was easy for him to spot her. His nose scrunched you the slightest bit in disdain. She offered a small wave, and he nodded at her in acknowledgement, his hands too busy at the moment.

Towards the end of the song, he locked eyes with her, making sure she got the full brunt of his words as he belted, "A dead bard sings no songs. Dead men tell no tales, And dead witches can't cast spells." Okay, yeah, that one stung.

As he finished, everyone cheered, tossing their coin his way. He bowed, giving his thanks and blowing kisses to women and men alike. She called out trying to get his attention.

"Jaskier! Jaskier!"

His head immediately whipped around at the familiar name, knowing exactly who had said it. He feigned innocence.

"Yes, he was quite good. Perhaps one of the best in our time. This next song is dedicated to Jaskier!" The crowd practically roared their approval. He switched to his lute, putting the strap around his body. "How about O Gwiazda, eh? A star song for the man amongst the stars!"

Yennefer practically had to yell for her voice to be heard. "Why not one of his songs?" This seemed to be a popular idea as requests started flooding in.

He looked around nervously, tugging at his collar. "I-I'm sorry, I don't believe I can hit some of those notes," he started, only for her to interject.

"Nonsense! I think you'd sound just like him," she challenged. The smirk she wore could kill. Oh she was good.

Jaskier was quick though. "Now there's really no need to insult the dead," he joked, earning a few laughs. But as soon as she yelled the words "Fishmonger's Daughter," he knew he lost. Everyone joined her chant, asking him to play. Damnit, it was one of his most popular songs that no one could resist, not even himself. And so he performed. And he did so perfectly.

He weaved in and out of bodies as they all sang and clapped along. He sent a few winks, making a few ladies swoon. When he finished, he declared that he was parched and would take a break. He was lounging with a very giggly brunette when Yennefer approached him.

"Do you mind if I steal him for a second?" she asked. The girl raised a brow and looked her up and down.

"Depends. Do you plan on giving him back?"

"Yes," she assured. "I only wish to speak with him for a few minutes." The girl relented and let him go. She scooted off of his lap so he could stand.

"Don't worry love, I'll be back soon. She's just an old friend and we need to catch up."

"Don't leave me waiting too long," she said. He lead Yennefer outside of the door to make sure no one else was listening in on the conversation. As soon as the door closed, she started.

"You seem to have settled in quite nicely Jaskier," she said, putting emphasis on his name. He however, was persistent in his denial.

"That's not my name."

She tilted her head, "Oh? Then what is it?"

He rolled his eyes, "If you must know, I'm Amarant." He extended his hand for her to shake. "And you are?"

She looked down at his offered hand. "You already know." He chuckled, putting his arm down.

"I assure you I do not."

She sighed, figuring it would be easier to just play along. "Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"Ah yes! I've heard of you, and might I say that you are even more beautiful in person," he said with a flourish. He brought her delicate hand up to kiss it.

"Flattery will get you nowhere Jaskier."

"Look," he said, all charm leaving his voice. "I'm really not who you think I am. And I'm getting quite fed up with being mistaken for him. I'm my own person you know," he said pointedly.

"I would think you were too clever to believe I'd actually fall for that, yet here you continue to lie to my face," she stated. His mouth hung open a bit in shock.

"Okay what do you want you snake?" he hissed. She held her hands up in surrender.

"No need for names. I simply came here looking for ingredients, yet I found something better."

He glared at her, "I don't believe you."

"It's the truth," she said simply. There was a moment of silence before she continued. "Everyone thinks you're dead." Call him crazy, but he could swear he heard a touch of sadness in her voice.

"Good." He folded his arms over his chest, turning away. She touched his arm gently, prompting his to look at her.

"Why?" she asked. He scoffed.

"Must everything have a reason?" he pondered aloud. He turned to her fully. "I needed a fresh start," he said simply.

"I know there's more to it than that," she said.

"Oh there's lots more to it, but you have no right to be disclosed to that information!"

"I know it has something to do with Geralt."

He let out a high pitched, slightly manic laugh. "Oh do you now? Congratulations dear, you just scratched the surface!" He leaned in her face, making a show of clapping his hands in mock praise. "Do you want a medallion for your wit?"

She smacked his hands away, a small frown on her face.

"Not everything has to do with that boar headed idiot," he spat. She could tell she struck a nerve. His voice was full of hurt and hate, his eyes hardened, turning to ice, and his lips curled into a sneer.

"I know he hurt you," she said softly. He scoffed, "He did more than that. He broke my fucking heart."

Yennefer wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that surprised the both of them. She whispered in his ear, "If it makes you feel better, you did the same."

He pulls away, shooting her a quizzical look. "I highly doubt that. He got his wish, he's rid of me. The bastard should be jumping for joy," he stated plainly. She gave him a look that he couldn't quite read.

"He's not."

Jaskier couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. He knew it was probably wrong for him to be happy about that, but he had to admit it felt good. "Nice to know." He pulled her away, holding her at arms length. "Well this little reunion was quite nice, but I have company to entertain. It was lovely to see you again, really, but please leave and don't bother me again. I made a new life for a reason." He started to leave, pausing in the doorway and looked back at her. "Oh, and don't tell Geralt about all this. The last thing I want is to dig up that mess of a past. It's already hard enough to forget about him as it is," he mumbled the last part to himself as the door shut. She was still able to hear however. And one thing was for certain: she was not planning on keeping this to herself.

She had no idea where he was, or when she'd see him again. But she knew that fate would bring the two of them together once more.

~~~~

Ciri had grown into a beautiful and powerful young lady under Geralt's protective wing. She had learned well and came into her full power. The lion cub of Cintra was now a strong lioness. Five years had passed since their brush with the mysterious siren, and that had been the last they had heard any word of Jaskier. Until chance to happened that they came across an old friend in the woods.

"Yen!" Ciri exclaimed upon seeing her, and rushed over to hug her.

"My, look how you've grown!" Yennefer said, looking her up and down. She beamed brightly.

Geralt was slower, more calm in his approach. "It's nice to see you again," he said as he dismounted Roach.

"I can say the same," she said as she walked over to him, greeting him with a warm embrace. They set up camp together, Ciri and Yennefer gathering firewood while Geralt hunted for their dinner. They had a nice meal of rabbit stew, and caught up while they ate. It was getting darker each minute as the sun slipped farther under the horizon. Ciri had gone to bed as Geralt and Yennefer continued to talk over the diminishing fire.

It was far into the night, ensuring the girl was asleep. Roach stood tied to a nearby tree, not giving them much thought as she too drifted off. An owl hooted overhead. She took a deep breath. There was no easy way to put this, but he needed to know.

"I saw Jaskier."

He froze, his cat like eyes bore into her, deciding if she was telling the truth. "What?"

"When I was gathering ingredients from the coast I stopped in Low View. I went to the tavern where I saw Jaskier performing, but he wasn't Jaskier," she explained. She could see the gears beginning to turn in his brain. Finally he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

"I didn't know where you were, and it wasn't the right time." She subtly nodded over to Ciri's calm form. He only hummed.

"Thank you for telling me," he said.

"What're you going to do?" she asked, already knowing his answer.

"Ciri and I leave for Low View first thing tomorrow."

~~~~

It had been three years since Yennefer had been in the tavern. Amarant had first been on edge constantly, always expecting Geralt to walk through the doors. As time passed, that anxiety diminished. Perhaps she would do as Jaskier wished and simply not tell, but he highly doubted that. Or maybe she just hasn't run into Geralt. Or maybe Geralt just straight up did not care. Gods, do not let it be the third option.

Logically, he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. It was honestly inevitable, they had done it many times before and it always ended with Jaskier leaving with him, ready to compose some new songs for the White Wolf. Only this time it was different. Geralt didn't want him, and he certainly didn't like him, that much he made clear.

And still, despite his best interests, he hoped he would see him. Wished for it almost every day. To see that familiar face and hear his voice. Longing for what once was. And then he'd immediately turn back around, scolding himself for wanting such a thing. Reminding himself of the hurt he had brought on. Remembering the fact that he was a vampire, and if Geralt knew... He couldn't bring himself to picture such a thing. But he knew what would happen.

The door had been opening and closing all night with patrons coming and going. Amarant had already made a good bit of coin, and he was only really just getting started. He belted out into the small space, singing his heart out and laying his soul on the line.

He didn't know when exactly he felt a change in the air, but he couldn't deny the shift in energy. It didn't take him long until his eyes fell on Geralt. He'd know those broad shoulders and white hair anywhere. His gaze hardened into a glare from across the room. They made eye contact, and Jaskier could see the recognition on the other man's face. After all, facial hair could only do so much to change his appearance. Perfect timing too. He was in the middle of singing I Once Knew A Man, now aiming the song directly at him and adding a fierce bite to his words.

Geralt sighed and watched him, knowing Jaskier was not happy to see him. The song was undoubtedly a jab at him, and he could feel guilt boiling up from years passed. It had been quite a few years since their fight at the mountain top, and he had been kept busy with work and caring for Ciri. They had been on the road for years, and never once heard word of Jaskier. Sometimes he would forget, until they found themselves in yet another tavern with no sign of the joyous bard. He would hear a familiar tune that got his hopes up until he realized it wasn't him. Then the terrible guilt and grief of hearing of his friend's death. His only true friend. And he had ruined it.

And yet there he was, alive and well. He saw another instrument propped against a corner. He recalls Jaskier once mentioning wanting to play the lyre. Good for him. A decent crowd was formed around him, dancing and singing along. His skin seemed to glow under the candle light and he wore a blue shirt with a purple vest paired with a matching hat. His blue pants hugged him in all the right places, flattering his figure quite nicely. He had grown his hair out too, and Geralt had to admit it was a good look on him. His goatee was well kept and accentuated his jawline.

"Are you drooling?" Ciri asked from across the table, her nose scrunching slightly. Geralt immediately jerks his head away wipes at his mouth. When his hand remains dry he shoots the giggling princess a look of annoyance. "Well you might as well have!" she teased and he gently kicked her leg to tell her to stop. She just smiled and watched as Jaskier played. He continued straight into another song, this time a peppy love ballad. Geralt couldn't help the simmering jealousy bubbling in his gut.

Each time he got to the chorus, he glared directly at Geralt. Hurt by witchers... Geralt knew he had been cruel and unfair. He had every right to hate him, but he wished he wouldn't. At least, hate him less once he apologized. His medallion rest warm on his chest as it did every time Jaskier was near. His mouth formed beautiful words, his voice like silk slipping into the air. As he sang, Geralt could see the tips of his fangs peaking out from under his lips.

After some applause and the throwing of money, he rose up with a flourish.

"It seems like we have a special guest in the corner, everyone say hi! I think we should dedicate this next song to him, a little tune we all know and love!" Jaskier's eyes burned with mischief and anger. He knew Geralt hated attention more than just about anything. And Jaskier was nothing, if not petty.

"When a humble bard," he began walking forward as he started the song, and people cleared his path. He was walking straight to Geralt. The witcher kept his features neutral. "With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song."

Fuck.

As the first verse came, he took a sharp turn right before he reached their table and ducked into the crowd, making his way through the room.

"They came after me, with masterful deceit," he stood on a chair, one leg propped up on the back as he sang. "Broke down my lute and they kicked in my teeth!" In a swift graceful movement, he leaned forward and knocked the chair down, easily walking onto the ground. He continued to dance and pull people from their seats. He stopped in front of Ciri, making a show of inviting her to dance, which she eagerly accepted. The look on Geralt's face was priceless.

Of course Jaskier was up on the tables. Hopping from one to the other, taking his time to show off a bit. He had been waiting for this. He's a performer, and he wanted nothing more than to put on a show. The song was nearing its end, and he made his way to Geralt's table. He was there for the last verse. He stood above him while he sang, winking down at him. For a moment, Geralt thought things were good. That he would apologize and everything would go back to normal. But the smell of pent up rage, hurt and resentment told him otherwise.

"Toss a coin to your Witcher O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty, a-oh Toss a coin to your Witcher A friend of humanity," he finished off by kneeling down in front of Geralt. He made it a point to look in his eyes, to make sure he knew what he did and that he sure didn't need him.

Everyone cheered, and the sound of coin being thrown in the air rang out, clinging on the hard floor. Amarant wore a bitter yet smug smirk on his lips, "Hello Geralt." His chest heaved up and down as he tried to regain the oxygen in his lungs. Beads of sweat were sprinkled across his forehead. And despite the venom in his words, Geralt couldn't help the small quirk of his lips as he looked up at the angry bard.

"Hi Jaskier." His voice was breathier than he meant it to be, but could you blame him? He had thought him to be dead for years and here he was, in the flesh, a mere foot away.

"Sorry, there's no Jaskier here," he said flippantly. Geralt blinked.

"Jaskier I have eyes, you're right here," he softly argued. He didn't come all this way to be dismissed so easily.

"The name's Amarant now. Jaskier died on that mountain top as far as I'm concerned," he looked at him with unamused eyes, lips curling into a sneer ever so slightly. "If that's all you came for, I believe your business is done," he said, gesturing towards the door.

Geralt stared, dumbfounded. "I- Jaskier please, I-I'm sorry," he started. Jaskier cut him off with a cruel laugh.

"It's much too late for apologies now. I have a new life now, one not tied to your name. You have no idea how hard it is to forget someone when people are constantly asking you where they are." Geralt looked down at his lap, avoiding his gaze. Amarant tilted his head. "Then yet again, maybe you do."

He hoped off from the table and started to walk away only for Geralt to grab his hand. The touch was gentle but firm, and Amarant could feel just how much desperation was in that one motion. He turned back around, but withdrew his hand from his grip. Open to hear what he had to say, yet signaling that he owed him nothing and could leave at any time.

"Please Jaskier. Let me apologize," he pleaded.

Jaskier let out a heavy sigh, placing his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ciri lingering in the diminishing crowd. She hung back, standing awkwardly, unsure if it was okay to approach them. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes and gestured for her to come over. When she hesitated still, he gently guided her back to her seat.

"It's okay darling, Geralt and I are just going to have a little chat." He wore a soft and kind expression aimed at the girl. She gave a small timid grin, and Jaskier flashed her his charismatic smile to reassure her that everything was fine. Gods did Geralt miss that smile. It could light up even the dimmest rooms and melt the coldest of hearts... After all it had melted his. It had only taken about a week if that before Geralt grew to miss it. The bright flash of teeth after a performance, a sly quirk of his lips when flirting, his tongue poking out between his teeth when he thinks of something funny. It was all so dynamic, just like him. That smile was always something he could rely on. It was there when he woke up after sharing a night in the woods or at an inn, after a successful hunt, followed by a night of drinking and laughter. It was always waiting for him when their paths would meet once more on the road. And it was gone from Jaskier's face as soon as he turned to look at him.

It had been replaced with a truly unhappy look. A frown etched its way onto his face and his brows drew together. From the angle Geralt sat, he could see the glisten of held back tears.

"Jaskier I know I hurt you. Not just with my words but, physically too. I- I know I wasn't a good friend. I was afraid of growing close to someone, so I did what I could to try to distance myself, and in doing so, put you at risk more than once. I really am sorry for everything I said. Not just on the mountain, but before that too. You really are a fantastic bard and a truly good friend. I admit I took your company for granted, and being apart for so long gave me a lot of time to reflect on that."

Jaskier didn't know what to say or do or feel. For years he hated and missed Geralt, wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face before bringing him in for a kiss. He had never felt more torn as he listened to the man speak. This was probably the most words he'd ever heard him say.

Geralt scooted back in the booth, making room for him to sit. Amarant eyed the seat before sitting across from him with Ciri. He didn't know if he could trust himself to hold strong if he were so close to Geralt. If he was able to hear his slow heartbeat close to his ear and smell the sweat and grime that never seemed to wash completely off his skin and hair. So he kept his distance, folding his hands together as he watched him. Steely blue eyes bore into every inch of him. Geralt shifted under the intense gaze, knowing Jaskier had every right and reason to hate him still.

"I don't want to be without you Jaskier."

"You don't want me, you just don't want to be alone!" he argued. Geralt cut in before he had the chance to say anything else.

"At first I thought the same. I'd gotten used to traveling with a companion, and when I found Ciri I thought things would be the same. But they weren't. I still wanted you." Jaskier couldn't help but to snap his head up at hearing those words. For years he had wanted nothing more than to hear Geralt say that. He only allowed himself to be hopeful for a second before he remembered everything all over again and rage filled him once more.

"That's funny, I remember you wanting something completely different! I was such a burden, such a nuisance to you so I did what you asked me. I got the fuck out of your life Geralt of Rivia, and gave you your life's blessing." The witcher flinched at the use of his full name, feeling much like a scolded child. Ciri awkwardly picked at her plate, avoiding looking at either of them but still obviously listening.

"I looked for you, you know. After our fight, but every time I thought I found you, you were already gone."

"Yes well, that's what a traveling bard does. We travel," he deadpanned. Geralt rolled his eyes at the sarcasm.

"It seemed like you were purposefully avoiding me."

"Glad to know my efforts were acknowledged," he quipped with a sneer. Geralt stared at him with something akin to hurt on his face.

"You didn't have to fake your own death." Amarant looked away, mouth hanging open slightly as he thought of what to say. He tilted his head and glanced back at him.

"I have my own reasons, and believe it or not they don't always revolve around you. Now if you'll excuse me," he made to stand, brushing himself off before turning to the door. Geralt followed, and Ciri trailed after him. Amarant made sure to slam the door in his face, but he easily caught it before it could close. They walked out into the cool night, a gentle breeze blew Geralt's hair in his face. He didn't care enough to brush it away.

"Damnit stop following me! Do you have any idea how hard it is to try and forget you?" Jaskier yelled at him. Geralt took a cautious step forward, as if he were a wild animal that would spook if he moved too quickly.

"Then don't." Another step closer. "I really am sorry for everything Jaskier. Now, you don't have to forgive me. But please, let me try to earn you back."

The tears that he had been fighting back finally won, and spilled over. "How? Where do we even start?" Geralt went out on a limb and reached up to cup his cheek, wiping away a single tear.

"How 'bout we start here?" he asked. Before Jaskier could question him, he leaned forward, pressing their lips together. Jaskier was taken aback, eyes wide before they fluttered closed and he found himself melting. He had wanted this for so long. Then he felt Geralt's tongue slip into his mouth, running over his fangs and he remembered why this could never work. His eyes flew open and he pulled himself back. Reacting on instinct, not even thinking, his hand collided with Geralt's cheek with a loud slap.

Geralt didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"How dare you," Jaskier interrupted, "Waltz back into my life after eight years and kiss me like I've always dreamed of you doing, thinking it'll fix everything?"

"I know it can't fix everything, but it's a start," Geralt said, holding him by his forearms. His calloused hands felt wonderful against his smooth skin. Damnit why was he making this so hard? Jaskier tilted his head to the side, not wanting to look at him directly. He cast his gaze to the side, seeing the moonlight illuminate his features in a silver glow. "Please, I can't lose you again."

"Geralt, don't get me wrong I wish this could work, but it just can't. You're a witcher and I'm a-" he caught himself. Geralt cocked his head in that oh so familiar way of his. Unmistakable fear was clear on Jaskier's face as he realized the slip up he just made. If he had any blood in him it would've surely drained from his face. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach and he tried to turn to leave.

Geralt pulled him closer, not ready to let go. He lifted a hand and raised his chin so he could meet his eyes. His voice was the softest he had ever heard it. "Jaskier, I know." Terror now replaced by confusion.

"You- what?" Geralt could pinpoint the exact moment when his brain switched from autopilot to manual, trying to piece it all together. "How?"

"Like you said, I'm a witcher. At first I didn't know exactly what you were, scent is normally carried by blood and even though I could smell emotions and a few other small things, I couldn't place your scent. It was a strange, empty kind of smell. Then I noticed little things here and there. And your fangs aren't exactly subtle." Jaskier stood there dumbfounded by all of this new information.

"If you knew, why did you let me stay? Why didn't you kill me?" His eyes glistened, his mouth slightly agape. He subconsciously reached out, fists gripping tightly to the leather armor. Geralt drew his brows together at the question.

"You're my friend, I wouldn't do that. I only kill when it's necessary, you know that, and you posed no threat. When you first approached, I was skeptical, but then I learned better. I know you Jaskier, you're a good and kind man. And in all the time we spent traveling together not once did you try to feed on humans," he said.

"How do you know?" Jaskier asked. He was still afraid. Afraid of losing him again, afraid of himself, the uncertainty of it all.

"Because I just know." Jaskier was silent, not daring to say a word. Geralt's golden eyes shimmered with longing, and he held him closer. He needed to feel their bodies pressed together. "Don't go."

Jaskier bit his lip, looking at him through his lashes. "Okay. I'll stay." Geralt broke into a wide grin, the widest Jaskier had ever seen. "This in no way means you're off the hook," Jaskier made sure to set the record straight. "You have a lot to make up for."

"I know, and I will." He raised a hand and stroked it through Jaskier's hair, a soft smile on his face. "I've missed you."

Jaskier placed his hand atop Geralt's and leaned into the touch. "I've missed you too." Geralt slid his hand down, cupping his chin and tilted his head up slightly. They shared another kiss, this one slower and with more passion. When they pulled away for a breath, Jaskier asked, "So, where are we off to next?"

Geralt smirked, tugging him even closer so he was pressed flush against his body. His arms wrapped around him, hands resting at the small of his back. The moon bathed them in her silver shine. "I was thinking of maybe staying here for a bit. At the coast."

Jaskier was beaming. "That sounds lovely." And so the vampire, the witcher, and the princess settled in a cave on the shore.

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