Breaking Point

TITLE: Breaking Point (read also on  AO3)

AUTHOR: @breyito

PROMPT DAY: Day 2 # Monster Hunt for @geraskierweek

SUMMARY: When Geralt first heard about the vicious wraith holding a whole town hostage it was the middle of spring, so he didn’t think about the fact that the last rumours that he had hear about the ‘Witcher’s bard’ before the winter placed him in that direction.

WORDCOUNT: 1.756

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/GAMES: Netflix with some Game/Book wikia knowledge mixed in.

TRIGGER/WARNINGS: Major Character Death. Violence. Gore. Blood. ANGST. Like, Heavy Angst. Hurt/No comfort. Suicidal Thoughts. Suicidal Ideation.

RATING: Mature

ADDITIONAL NOTES: I know I can write some pretty dark shit, guys, but...this shocked even me. I mean, I had wanted to write this idea since I sae Ep. 6; but holy molly; this is *dark* (I feel bad for Geralt now, which was not the idea lol). So, please, please, please be careful; don’t read if this is gonna make you feel bad. 

New style!!! The beautiful @hellstrider has this wonderful series Into You on a o3; and I fell in love with that writing style and just, wanted to try it out. I hope I did okay. 

Enjoy!

There was a Wraith in the East, in a non-important town except for the fact that it was a wealthy town; the Earl of those lands having his castle just a few miles from it;

and this spectre was threatening the castle’s comfortable way of living, enough that the knights were sent to other towns and counties, posting notices with the significant reward, never to be seen again after;

because the wraith would attack nobles, would attack soldiers, would attack villagers that tried to get into the woods to hunt game, in the daylight or the darkest hours;

but would shred to pieces any knight that dared to put a foot on the grass beyond the first row of thick trees;

and normally Geralt would laugh at the thought of the ‘elite’ being affected by a monster as much as peasants;

but the lack of enough game had driven the Earl to send his knights to steal meat from the village, on the form of ‘taxes’; and people were starving just so a fat nobleman and his knights could fill their guts;

so he put himself and Roach on course to the East.

When Geralt first heard about the vicious wraith holding a whole town hostage it was the middle of spring, so he didn’t think about the fact that the last rumours that he had hear about the ‘Witcher’s bard’ before the winter placed him in that direction,

he didn’t think about the fact that for a moon and a half he had not picked up any whispers of a colorful bard singing about white wolves,

had not overheard scandalized gossip of Ladies and Lords running a poet out of their lands for sleeping with their spouses.

He had not thought of that, because the Witcher had spent a whole winter licking his wounds (those inflicted upon him by a vicious djinn, and a lover he slighted so badly the scent of lilac and gooseberries would forever burn; and wounds he did to himself, the raw gaping hole on his center that refuses to close, that feels like he lost a limb, that feels like a heavy presence yet screams empy, empty, empty to all of his senses)

and his wounds had seemed more important in that moment, in all of those moments, because he was (will always be) a selfish creature at heart, had learned to be so; and at the most minimal sign that he could be injured he injured back,

so he didn’t pay attention, didn’t realize,

until it was too late to turn back,

to live in denial;

until it was just too late

too late to do anything but hunt, because that is all he had left, because when hunting he didn’t feel,

shouldn’t feel,

feel his lungs compress smaller than under the weight of a troll,

his troath close up in ways a thousand poisons can’t achieve

feel his shriveled up heart hurt.

The wife of the barkeep tells him the story in between tankards of ale (and she doesn’t even water it down now, seeing his pain) and nervous looks around the tavern;

because Jaskier didn’t just die, no, see, he was killed,

brutalized in the most awful of ways,

left in the woods behind the inn with his troath ripped open, his breaches and undergarments torn, his brilliant jade outfit coated in blood;

dumped among dirt and filth, left there to bleed out and perish , after his attacker had taken everything he had wanted from him;

all because the bard didn’t want to give him a ‘private concert’, wouldn’t respond to his insinuations,

because the bard was tired, had been singing all afternoon through the night,

and that’s when the Count’s knight had walked into to the tavern, high on spirits from hunting game to last the castle all through winter;

and one of them had seen Jaskier and had wanted,

wanted so badly he had not asked before pulling the artist on his lap, and his hands on his body;

but Jaskier had pushed him away, lighthearted at first, but then, when the man had followed his refusal with more unwanted touches and slurs had firmly told him no,

and the whole tavern had heard, and the whole town would know by the next morning that a lowly lark had refused bedding one of the knights of the Count, and the knight couldn’t have that, could he;

so he followed the bard when he walked to the inn,

dragged him behind the building,

and took , and broke and laughed while doing it,

walked away with blood on his teeth, loose breaches and a splintered lute on his hand, to hang besides the thropy heads on his state;

left the bard there so everyone would know not to mess with him.

The barkeep and his wife tried to help him; took him to his room and called the local healer, got him bandaged and stitched and cleaned up

and perhaps he would have survived;

perhaps he would have, if the knight had not also taken something more precious than his life, than his self,

because the bard had lost his voice; it had been ripped away, and a bird without wings can’t fly

and a bard without voice can’t sing, can’t really live

and so, when the healer told him this, he cried himself to sleep, with painful coughs and mourful whines,

and when he was left alone he ran, driven by the desire of revenge;

escaped far into the woods, where no one would find where he died and his corpse would remain untouched,

and when he couldn’t breathe anymore, from the pain and the exhaustion; he kneeled under a three, among old roots and the last leaves of autumm,

and teared at his stitches and his bandages, letting out a silent scream,

blooming red drops drenching the ground, mixing with the colors of the season,

and died.

(The barkeep’s wife didn’t tell him this last part, she couldn’t have; but Geralt can fill in the spaces in the story, can imagine it so vividly , hear the rustling of the trees, can smell the salt of Jaskier tears on the air, can see him clutching at his troath like so many years ago; when another foolish and cruel man attempted to steal his voice and kill him-)

When Geralt, from far away, sees the body of his friend, his companion, his bard;

curled tight into a little ball at the trunk of a tree;

he could trick himself into believing that the bard was just taking a nap;

because wraiths’ bodies aren’t touched by decay, rot or time;

and he looks the same,

he looks exactly the same, dark hair, pale skin, little wrinkles at the border of his eyes;

he even fucking smells the same,

the only difference is the cloying scent of blood, and it’s everywhere, the smell of Jaskier’s blood,

and Geralt feels his knees fail him, for the first time in a century, and he falls in front of his bard and weeps ;

because there’s blood on his bard’s lips, on his broken fingernails, on his neck and his shirt;

and he might be torturing himself but he thinks he still sees the track of tears across those pale perfect cheeks,

and he chokes back his apologies, his regrets, his useless words begging for forgiveness;

he is not worthy of uttering them in his presence,

not in front of this person who loved him with all his being and who he sent away with angry, cruel words,

and he wishes to grab his silver sword and impale himself on it, because silver is for monsters and presented with the handiwork his rash cruel actions caused he cannot think himself anything but the lowest kind of beast;

he longs for the only respite life could offer him now, to have his final resting place besides his bard (he would murmur apologies on his hair as the life left his body, would be selfish just one more time, would sully the bard’s grave with his own blood), to hug him in death like he didn’t do in life; curl around him in a parody of the protection he didn’t offer;

but people are still dying, still starving, and the only thing he has now, is the Path, the only thing he could ever  be (no more champion, no more friend, no more muse) now is a monstrous Witcher;

so he weeps as he stretches Jaskier body (whines at the still almost-warm temperature of him) on a patch of yellow wildflores,

weeps as he stakes him,

as he cuts his head and places it between his legs,

as he lits the body on fire and hears the piercing cry of his friend’s spectre,

and doesn’t move;

not when the smoke clogs his troath and the flames lick his knees,

not until there are only ashes left.  

He marches to the Earl’s castle only after learning the knights name, after sending a boy requesting that his reward be given by that knight on the castle gates;

and if any of the townspeople wondered why there were teartracks on the soot of his cheeks they didn’t ask;

because those eyes were pitch black and enraged,

and the Witcher barely stops to question the men waiting for him at the iron gates (on the chance that the wraith did manage to murder his killer) after dismounting;

but he is in luck, because the man answers a yes with a cocky smile,

and the Witcher revels in ripping it off when he sends him flying back with a kick, listening to the sounds of breaking ribs,

smiles when he chops off the knights’ hands with silver,

chuckles as the screams of the man are cut off at the same time as his tongue and become whimpers,

as he cuts off the man’s balls and cock,

and laughs when the knight vomits after Geralt shows them all his body parts in a little line to him,

considers leaving him there at the edge of the road; but decides that the most minimun chance of survival is too much mercy, so he spears him in the heart once he tires of the mans screams.

The Witcher mounted his mare and went on his way,

and if he cried until he had no more tears left no one saw it and it was no one’s problem,

because he felt no joy nor pain nor sadness,

and he had no heart.

Not anymore.

Maybe, Maybe. - L.T (3/4)

Summary: Being a friend with unrequited feelings is hard, but a long movie night might change that (Reader/Lance Tucker). 

Prompt: Christmas movies

A/N: This is for @interestedbystanderwrites‘ Christmas Challenge. -laughs in pain--

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Feedback is always welcomed.

It takes Lance a while to realize that there is something sleeping at his side. There is a steady beat of air breathing softly into his neck, as something wiggles closer to him for a moment. A breathy sigh leaves its owner once more and Lance swears he feels a jolt, a shiver running down his spine at such a noise. He takes in the room as his eyes adjust to the dark. He stares at the koala-like grip that you have on his side with your arm underneath his body, your face hidden between the blankets and his neck as your every curve sinks into a hard edge of his body.

“Fuck,” is all Lance manages to breathe out, unsure of what to do in such a position. I mean, he does know but he would never put you in that situation -- hell, he hasn’t even thought about you in that light until just a  few hours ago, and now he wasn’t sure what to do. You were his closest friend, he just couldn’t do that to you.

With a curse and trying his hardest not to wake you up, he gets up from the floor --that you both had ended up on since the couch was too small for the two of you-- and heads to the bathroom -- completely unsure if he can keep this whole thing up until he can get his apartment back.    

 You wonder if Lance had caught onto some of Ebenezer Scrooge's hatred towards Christmas as it got closer because he had been rather unhappy when you woke up and put on the latest movie when you started making breakfast. It’s at this point that the phone calls start -- some friends and family from the other side of the globe wishing you a good Christmas holiday. Lance watches this all from the same seat he had taken yesterday. He seemed more focused on watching you than the movie that was currently playing in the living room.

You’re flipping the pancakes when he finally decides to ask, halfway through the movie: “Ever year since I’ve know you, it’s always been a Christmas movie marathon, but there are a lot of people that seem to want to see you. Why don’t you travel or anything?”

You pause for a moment and shrug as sharp blue eyes keep looking at you, as your try to answer without giving yourself away.

“It’s not like I don’t go out,” you explain, platting the pancakes with some eggs and bacon, “Sometimes, I go to Carly’s Christmas party, it’s just a hassle trying to see everyone.”

“Why?” he asks, unusually serious while he starts cutting his eggs into little pieces. You give him an awkward smile.  

Christmas always reminds me of how far away you are. Stupid holiday rom-coms.

“It just is,” you shrug before placing some food onto your own plate.

Lance doesn’t know if it is a trick of the light or if you are just being more open with him than before, but he can hear the clear despair and loneliness in your voice. It’s a little odd, but since this morning it was all that Lance had thought of -- you were pretty with a great personality. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him, or your family and friends -- then why did you choose to lock yourself away from the holidays. Sure, he had  strange way of celebrating, but your own was almost like you were punishing yourself for something and he was kicking himself in the head silently for just noticing.

“Besides, you’re with me now,” you state with a soft smile than makes his heart stop for just a second, “And that’s definitely a good change this time around.”

“It better be,” Lance declares with a laugh, despairing thoughts forgotten, as you keep moving forward with your movie marathon into the late afternoon.

 You’re barely getting into Elf when there is a knock at your door. Lance jumps a bit from his side of the couch since he had fallen asleep deep into Black Adders’ A Christmas Carol, not really enjoying that type of humor and the general warmth of your pillow fort dragging him into the land of dreams once more. You pause the movie and get up to open the door to see Carly standing there with a couple of bags and a wide smile.

“Finally, that snowstorm was so annoying,” she states as she tries to get into the apartment but you push the door back a bit. She gives you a confused look, “I came to pick you up for the party, even got you a cute dress!”

“I-I-” you start stuttering before Lance’s voice rings in the back with a ‘ who is it?’ causing Carly to look at you with wide eyes and a shock face, “I-I can explain.”

“Please tell me what the hell is Lance Tucker is doing in your apartment,” Carly declares harshly as you push her back and close the door behind you -- it’s at the point that you tell her everything that had happened and why Lance was with you.

She sighs when you find: “But, he hasn’t tried any funny business, right?”

“Please, he wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole,” you let out with a bitter laugh, as Carly places a compassionate hand on your shoulder.  

“Thank goodness, I came in time then,” Carly states with a bright smile, “Let’s make you forget all about Lance Tucker.”

 You explain to a still sleepy Lance that this is when you usually go to Carly’s Christmas party, who simply nods in his direction. You give him the option to go with you and he immediately says that he will -- a mix bag of wanting to finally leave the apartment and not wanting to see you go alone...for safety reasons.

He doesn’t expect to have his breath taken away with you standing there in the living room in a subtle red dress and green winter jacket. A pretty scarf around your neck and black stockings finishing your outfit as you give him a bright smile that makes him notice the light makeup you are wearing.

“What do you think?” you ask timidly, Carly watching the whole with interest from afar, as Lance shakes his head and laughs.

“You look stunning, peach,” he can’t help but admit and he would say it again to see that small smile bloom on your face all over again.

 The party isn’t exactly what you need when you have Lance dressed up in a white collar shirt and a dark colored winter jacket alongside gelled back hair. It’s isn’t helpful when he gives you a bright smile that sends your heart stuttering when he grabs your hand as you make your way into Carly’s shared home. However, that is all you are allowed to have with the man as he quickly finds some tall and leggy blond to talk to.

You don’t remember much of the party after that, only that you see Lance and said blond trading saliva in one of the darker areas of the house, near the guest bedrooms. The thing that you never wanted to see --Lance hooking up with someone right in front of you-- burns itself into the back of your eyes, as you rush towards the balcony area. You aren’t sure how Carly knows where to find you, as she sees you almost freezing with tears streaming down your eyes as hard sobs leave your body. She keeps rubbing your back until you are finally able to talk.  

“Please, please,” you barely manage to croak out, “Just give me a little more time before I have to go back in there.”

“Sweetheart,” Carly sighs out, as you shake your head, “I’m sorry, if I had known.”

“It’s okay,” you give her a watery smile, “It’s not your fault, it just hurts you know.”

“Yeah,” she states before asking, “Do you need a ride home?”

“I would appreciate it,” you manage to get up on shake legs as she takes you to the front of the house, while avoiding the guest area. You stay quiet and give the simple excuse that you aren’t feeling well too some of your friends that frown at you looking so down in the dumps before wishing you a happy holiday.

Carly ends up sending you back home in a carshare. She gives you a big hug before handing you a small set of presents in a tote bag -- all of them belonging to you from the rest of your friends at the party. You let out a sniff and thank her before getting in the car, if Lance notices that you are gone or if he was going home with someone else -- well that you would rather not know.

The driver is playing classic Christmas music and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh at the all too familiar song that starts playing, as if something is resonating with your own sorrow.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart  But the very next day you gave it away  This year, to save me from tears  I'll give it to someone special

It takes Lance another good hour to finally get away from the gal that had attached herself to him since the beginning of the party, and while Lance Tucker was never one to deny the attention he got from a beautiful woman -- this one was something else. She clung to him too much, asked him too many annoying questions. Her laugh wasn’t the one that he wanted to hear and she could barely quip back one he said something annoying. Her eyes didn’t sparkle with glee as the movie started, and that’s when Lance realized it--

Two days with you and you were already ruining him for everyone else. Why did it take him so long to realize that?

He searches high and low for you in the brownstone, but there isn’t any sign of you sitting near the window like you had when he had left you. He asked around and none had seen you in quite some time, it was starting to annoy Lance as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. It’s almost close to midnight and the snow has falling once more when he finally finds Carly in the kitchen area.

“Hey, have you seen her?” Lance questions as the brunette frowns, “I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

“She left,” Carly states darkly and while she wanted to yell and tell Lance everything --throw it in his face as he finally made the realization you already knew, but she knew that it wasn’t her place, “Thought it would be better to go home sooner rather than later, especially if you were busy .”  

“Damn,” Lance lets out in anger. His heart constricting at the thought that he might have just done something really stupid, as he slowly puts two and two together. He knows what you have probably seen that made you leave early, so that he could have some fun, but you didn’t know that that wasn’t his intention at all and that’s what send his mind into overdrive.

“I’ve gotta go,” is all he says before patting Carly on her shoulder and thanking her for the party. Lance is getting ready to leave, as he turns only to hear her voice yelling back at him, as Carly seems to have everything together as well, though she seems more protective towards you than anything else.

YOU BETTER NOT BREAK HER HEART, LANCE TUCKER!

Lance Tucker, as he grabs his phone and calls for carshare, knew that deep down that isn’t what he wanted to do -- it was quite the opposite actually. However, it would take a real Christmas miracle for you to respond back in the way he hope you did.

Finale

Sprang is Hurr

I hate spring almost as much as I hate summer (sweating, sunburn, frizzy hair, lakes made of 75% pee, and an abundance of youths flocking to the air conditioned mall’s Starbucks). While I realize I hold the minority opinion here, I am not taking this stance to be some sort of season hipster who chooses to dislike something simply because the majority enjoys it. 

The only reason people love spring is because it’s not winter, and loving something for what it’s not, instead of what it is (a gloomy soggy mud dumpster littered with travel sized plastic Popov bottles) is fucking stupid. It's the same reason we have an orange hormonal tween whose parents' won't monitor his social media, for president. People voted for Trump just because he wasn't Hillary. AND LOOK WHERE WE ARE NOW. Amber Wooster said it best, “I’m just thankful that Syria didn’t bomb us for poisoning the children of Flint or gassing natives at Standing Rock.”

Politics aside, we can all agree on one thing– hating the word "moist.” (Personally, I think “discharge” is worse.) Moist is only acceptable when describing the flavorful layers of an angel food cake. Sorry to deflate your spring boner, but it’s THE DEFINITION OF MOIST. Every surface you touch, walk or drive on from April to June sounds like a clapping puke covered toddler - just a bunch of brown squishy smacking. That palpable moisture in the air is the earth sweating, the pits of our pubescent planet working overtime to detox after the holiday binge. I don’t know about you, but I’m not trying to hydroplane in my heeled boots walking from my car into a Cracker Barrel. 

But cuter outfits! I feel my cutest when I'm wearing so many layers my body shape is just “rectangle” and even the silhouette of Big Foot has more wasit definition than I do.  The harder it would be to describe me for a police sketch, the better. That is my style. Which is why at least my first wedding will be in the winter. But here we are, knee deep in engagement parties and bridal showers. Good luck wearing heels that won't sink into the shit colored depths faster than my tanking credit score. Don’t even think about wearing anything white or pastel, unless you’re trying to be a walking example of the “before” outfit in a Tide Pod commercial. I too have been tempted to break out a seasucker skirt, having seen enough Old Navy commercials spreading spring positive propaganda to have me temporarily believe spring isn’t that bad. Then I look outside...

But all of the snow is gone! You know what that crispy, deep, sound buffering, white blanket was covering? All of the garbage our morbidly obese country won’t walk five extra feet to throw into a trashcan. Once the snow has melted the state of Michigan looks like a post-apocalyptic fairground sprinkled with used napkins, plastic utensils, and one flip flop that always has me thinking, who threw just half a pair of flips out the window? Like in what scenario is that the appropriate response besides, “Bet you won’t throw one flip flop out the window.” I like snow. Snow means leggings, and slippers, and replacing vanilla flavored coffee creamer with peppermint flavored vodka. Melted snow means clear roads suburban moms treat like massive sidewalks to jog down with their leashed children. But when I honk, I’m the asshole? JK I don’t honk! That’s rude. I blast some v sexually explicit rap. 

But nature! You mean the crusty leaf buds dotting tree branches like my unshaven legs after wearing my fancy going out leggings for a week straight? Wake me up when the leafs can provide a function, like shade or musical festival crown materials. Don't even get me started on flowers. People lose their GOD DAMN minds over these little uncircumsized petal dicks popping out of the soil. But I have news for you, know what's better than flower buds? FULL. ASS. BLOOMED. FLOWERS. 

It’s just a super confusing time in the year because I want to wear flannel under a quilted vest, but I also want to drink iced coffee and paint my nails Bikini So Teeny by Essie, and those are two aesthetics that should never be paired together– like drinking Coors Light while nibbling on cucumber tea sandwiches. Anyways, I’m now emotionally drained. Rant over, time to take a nap. Wake me up when I can drink on a patio without a jean jacket.

My entry for @touhoushipcollab.  Sanae Momiji as promised.  The season bit is the first section and then I go off into my own nonsense as standard.  Enjoy

Sanae squeezed Momiji's hands as they lay next to each other, watching the autumn leaves fall.  Before she would have worried about meeting here, where any tengu with a camera could take a picture.  But the two's relationship was an open secret now so most reporters wouldn't bother.  Now they could just relax together.

"Still it would be nice if we could go into town on a date," she muttered absently.

The wolf tengu's ears twitched.  Of course Momiji would hear her.  "It would be nice."  The woman grinned slightly.  "But I've read enough novels to know the downsides of forbidden romance."

Sanae smiled a bit in return.  She hadn't expected Momiji to love romance novels, or enka songs, but she had to admit the wolf tengu had really good taste.  Even if she prefered mecha shows herself.  "Hm, that reminds me.  You never told me which book was your favorite."

"The Yojimbo's Secret."  Momiji's grin widened.

"Wait."  Sanae thought for a moment.  "Wasn't that the one with the swordswoman, the young noblewoman, and the maid servant?"  She blushed as she remembered some of the choice passages.

"That's the one."

Momiji's tail wagged as Sanae felt her face burn.  She knew Momiji could be passionate but...  Well romance was about fantasy right!  She fanned herself to try to cool down.

Fortunately Momiji took pity on her.  "My second favorite is 'The Dutch Lady.'"

Sanae tried to remember that one.  "Oh.  That's the one set in the Meiji era isn't it?I remember reading it right after I came to Gensoukyo."  The lack of mecha manga had really forced her to broaden her reading base.  "The daughter of a noble family meeting the duchess from across the sea beneath the changing leaves."

"Two souls destined to part joining together for a brief moment.  A moment of perfect joy."  Momiji caught a leaf.  "It was nice seeing a writer use autumn leaves instead of cherry blossoms for a romantic meeting."

"Even though we started dating at a flower viewing festival?"  Sanae pretended to look hurt before giving Momiji's arm a squeeze.

Momiji returned the hug.  "It's just overdone in fiction.  I prefer the leaves, but I don't hate flowers."

Sanae looked above to the leaves.  Shizuha had outdone herself as usual, painting the maples a deep red.  She had to admit the display was honestly more colorful than the sea of cherry blossoms.  But she still prefered the spring festivals.  "Do you like it more because of your name?"

"That might be part of it, but I suppose it's more because of the meaning."  Momiji pointed to a tree.  "Flowers bloom and die because of love.  But the leaves change and die to save the tree.  So that more leaves might sprout after winter."  She smiled.  "I guess I appeals to me as a warrior."

Sanae sighed.  "You really think too much about dying dear."  She poked Momiji in the side.  "And saying you like duty over romance isn't the best thing to say to your girlfriend."

"I don't like duty more than romance.  I just have priorities," Momiji protested.  "Besides you have that same sense of duties as well.  After all, you sacrificed your old life to stay with your family didn't you?"

"That's one way of looking at it."  Sanae shifted on the bed of leaves to look at Momiji.  "And I found love doing it."

Momiji shifted to look at Sanae.  "Yes we did.  And a duty that goes beyond that."

Sanae gazed into her lover's eyes and smiled.  "Well, maybe I can learn to like autumn more."

----

"Now."  Momiji's ears twitched towards her.  "Back to your first question.  I know you weren't just interested in my reading habits.  You were worrying about something, aren't you?"

"Alright."  Sanae sighed.  Having a girlfriend with supernatural senses was both a blessing and a curse.  "Well...  I just wonder if I make you feel like you aren't feminine.  Like you have to be strong and in charge.  The experienced one in the relationship."

Momiji sniffed, but she seemed more amused than annoyed.  "Strong not being feminine is human nonsense.  And I'll always be the more experienced one in our relationship Sanae.  You aren't going to become older than me."

"I know I know, it's just-" Sanae shook her head.  "You like stories about girls who are cute and who get excited over flowers and frilly dresses.  But you're always cool and collected and strong when we're together.  I'm just wondering if you afraid I'll judge you for that, and-"  Sanae stopped as Momiji stared at her.

"Ah."  The tengu girl was blushing.  Very brightly.  "It's not that I'm afraid of it.  It's I've never been good at it.  And well, I enjoy the company of strong women.  Which means I'm usually following the path of the warrior."

Sanae nodded slowly.  "I get it.  I mean I didn't really fit the girly girl stereotype myself back home."  Apparently giant robots weren't girly or some nonsense.  "But wait, you like strong women?  So what about me?"

Momiji leaned forwards and kissed her on the cheek.  "Sanae.  You've beaten me in danmaku every time we've dueled.  Besides I'm not some oni who cares only about physical strength.  You've got plenty of strong points."

She snuggled up to the other woman.  "Thanks.  That makes me feel better."  She had a hard time seeing herself as strong, especially compared to someone as cool as Momiji, but she was happy her girlfriend appreciated her.

They hugged each other before Sanae sat up.  "I'm glad we're both comfortable with who we are.  But maybe we could do something girly together?"

Momiji's ears twitched.  "And how would we do that?  I don't think we can go shopping in the human village.  That's pushing the open secret a bit far."

"You're right."  Sanae grinned.  "So we'll go to Makai instead!  I got Alice to tell me about the best places, so we'll put on fancy clothes and just go be tourists."

"Makai?"  Momiji blinked a few times.  "Hm...  I didn't realize there was much there besides demons.  But that does sound interesting."  The wolf tengu smiled.  "It's a date then."

----

The hardest part of the date so far had been getting into her dress, Sanae decided.  The second hardest part was not staring at Momiji.

Youkai tended to stick to their favorite outfits.  The only alternate outfit she got to see Momiji wear on a regular basis was a swimsuit.  She considered herself lucky the few times she managed to get her girlfriend into modern clothes.

Right now Momiji was wearing a orange-red kimono with gold embroidery, and a jeweled maple leaf hairpin.  She carried a red paper umbrella on her shoulder.  It wasn't extravagant or 'sexy' but it transformed the no nonsense warrior into a silver haired beauty.  Somehow Momiji's stance and demeanor changed along with her clothes.  Sanae could still feel the woman's confidence, but it felt softer.

Sanae on the other hand felt like an imposter in her dress.  She'd ordered the pink, frilled, Victoriansque piece from Alice, complete with gloves and a parasol.  But while the thing fit perfectly, pieces just kept twisting and folding every time she did something like walk a little too fast.  She hoped her troubles were cute at least.

"Is something the matter?" Momiji asked.  Even her voice seemed more feminine.   Sanae felt a little jealous.

"No no, I'm quite fine.  Let us see what Pandemonium has to offer us shall we?"  Sanae twirled her parasol and tried to focus on the street.  At least playing the role of 'foreign noble lady' let her fake some confidence.

The streets were pretty impressive.  The passersby were all demons, but the shops were filled with curios and boutiques like any other tourist town back home.  Perhaps better, since the goods here were less cheap manufactured shirts and more local high end goods.

And all above it the burning trees of Hokkai swayed, each leaf smoldering blue in the darkness that filled Pandemonium.  The first time Sanae'd saw the strange plants she'd been worried about getting hit by a flaming branch.  Now she'd gotten used to them though, and the light they shed really enlivened the streets.  Especially since they were burning bright before snuffing out for winter.

A tailor shop caught her eye as they walked down the street.  She'd just been thinking about wardrobes.  Maybe if she talked Momiji into buying something the wolf tengu would wear that as well.  Besides the clothes were pretty nice.  Makai seemed to have a better connection to the outside world for some things.  "Let's take a look in there."

Momiji glaced past her then closed her parasol.  "Why not?"

They slipped through the crowd into the store, nodding to the proprietor before heading over to the dresses.  To her quiet delight, Momiji went to the modern section first as well.

"I'm surprised," the wolf tengu said.  "I wouldn't think that outside world dresses would be easy to modify for wings."

Sanae looked at the backless black dress Momiji was inspecting.  "That's just how it's made."

"Eh?"  Momiji looked confused, and Sanae forced herself to stifle a chuckle.  "I know that the outside world isn't as uptight as it used to be about arms and legs, but there's no back on this!"

"It has side slits too," Sanae pointed out helpfully.  "Maybe I could find one in blue that matches it..."

Momiji covered her face with her sleeve.  "You aren't trying to trick me are you?  This is formal wear in the outside world?"

Sanae chuckled.  "For high class dates and parties, yes."

"It seems I underestimated how much social mores had changed."  Momiji looked at it again before stepping back.  "Well it's a little risque for me."

"Too bad.  I think you would have looked nice in it," Sanae tried not to seem too disappointed.  It was a lot of money for something that couldn't be worn often.

Momiji glided next to her.  "If I'm going to wear something only for you to see, I'm going to pick something a lot more risque then that."

The room spun for a second as Sanae's brain rebelled.  Fortunately she got ahold of herself before she fainted.  Though she supposed that was 'in character' for her dress.  "Well," she coughed, "let's see if there's something better for us."

They peered through the rest of the selection, but there weren't really any dresses that were better than anything they could find at home cheaper.  However just as Sanae was considering heading out, she saw two hairpins made of silver and turquoise.  They were simple flower designs, but they added a bright splash of color.  "What do you think about this?"

Momiji peered at the pins and smiled.  "It's beautiful.  I've never seen that stone before."

"They aren't found in Japan."  Sanae, waved over the shopkeeper.  "Excuse me.  We'll take these."

One painful haggling session later she was the proud owner of the jewelry.  "Here," she said, handing one to Momiji.

"Thank you."  Momiji bowed, then reached over.  As Sanae blinked in surprise the wolf tengu deftly slid the pin into her hair.  Momiji then stepped back.  "Would you do mine?"

"Of course!"  Sanae carefully added the new pin next to Momiji's old one.  She grinned as she stepped back.  "The crow tengu are going to notice though."

"Notice what?"  Momiji leaned against her shoulder.  "It's just a gift between very close friends."

Sanae giggled .  "I suppose that's true."  She adjusted her gloves again then headed out the front of the store.  "I think there's a street with some restaurants through that alley.  Shall we have lunch?"

"That sounds like a good idea."  Momiji's ears twitched.  "Though I hope they serve something other than the salads Alice prefers."

"Maybe one of them will serve wyvern?" Sanae mused as they headed into the side street.  Eating a magical creature would be something to talk about.

She felt the aura of the alley change a second before the large figure stepped in front of them.  Sanae's heart started racing as she took a step back.  Something that resembled a seven foot tall minotaur stood before them, holding a small stabbing sword.  The creature's voice was gravelly, but calm.  "Quiet now ladies.  Drop your purses and jewelry and there won't be nothing to cry about.  Better deal than most human girls get."

Sanae closed her parasol, letting her mind summon up her godly powers.  The on and off roleplaying was over.  "You don't want to mess with us.  Leave or I'll exterminate you."

The man moved without speaking, but Sanae hadn't waited for his response.  She swung her parasol forward calling up the wind.  A massive gust tore through the alley sending the demon staggering back.

And then Momiji was there, a knife buried to the hilt in the creature's eye.  The wolf tengu twisted the blade to free it, then pulled it out as she stepped back.  The minotaur crashed to the ground.

With a quick flick of her wrist Momiji shook the blood off.  "Well, maybe I should consider being girly more often against small fry."

Sanae felt her eyebrow twitch at that.  "That was girly?  You stabbed a knife in his face."

"The traditional technique is to cut open the femoral artery.  But that sprays blood everywhere."  The tengu slipped the knife back into her sleeve.  "This was much cleaner."

The priestess sighed then hugged her wolf girlfriend.  "I love you Momiji."

Daiharu week day 2

I DID IT MY VERY FIRST FANFICTION AND OH BOI IF IT ISN’T CHEESY THEN I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS Im angry at myself because it took two whole days to end, and I wanted to catch up with rest of missed days eh But hey, there it is. And everytime I look at it I scream in embarrassment :)))))) Enjoy. Maybe. Hopefully. And warning! My english is v e r y bad, so im really sorry for every error and mistake you’ll probably find. I did my best ;;;

May have never been a fan of cold. She survived every winter under blanket drinking hot chocolate or cocoa and If she could she wouldn't ever move from her warm shelter. After moving to Hoenn this season was quite bearable because of fact that this region is known for it's more tropical, warmer climat. But still, it was too cold for her to function normally. Every adventure experienced in smaller temperature than 20 degrees celsius was a torment for her - too chill for her standard outfit, too warm for coat. But the league wont beat itself, will it? Because of that winter was less survivable for her than any other season, as soon as March approached, and temperature slowly stabilazed, May revived just like nature around her. Along with spring flowers grew her determination and will to go further into unknown. After her beating the league she hadn't have  to spend winter evening inside Pokemon Centres or secret bases done on fast. Instead she spent them either in League or harrasing her friends that lived close to Evergrande with her presence. Despite this she still was thrilled at the beginning of spring. As soon as spring officialy begun, which was in May, and every lawn was flooded with flowers, May jumped onto her Altaria's back with big, picnic basket in her hands. - To Mossdeep, Alta! - She said while petting pokemon's cloud like head. There was no need to repeat, Altaria immediately turned the right direction and flew up into the skies. She loved calmly flying around on back of her pokemon in nice, sunny days like this one. It was sunny, delicate wind ruffled her hair and beautiful views were breathtaking. You could see so many things from above - strolling families, carpets of flowers on meadows, pokemon's happily splashing around on water surface. Everything around revived. If anyone asked her what her favourite season is she without doubt whould respond  that it's spring. After one hour of flight from Lilycove to Mossdeep she landed on a sandy beach immedietly jumping off from back of her faithful partner. - Thanks for the ride. - She murmured kissing Altaria on her head and summoning her to pokeball afterwards. From here she took a short walk to her destination. Finally, she stood under his door with a great hope that this time he's at home. He gave her his keys long time ago, ever before her beating league, but she always prefared to knock first. So she did it now, and after fifth knock she started to get impatient. Then she heard rushed "In a moment!" behind the door. He's here. She gigled and fixed hair. Her heart started to beat faster and cheeks slowly turned slightly red. - Im very sorry, but I don't really have time right now. Im bu-... - He hadn't have chance to end his sentence before she thrusted picnic basket into his hands. He just noticed that no one other than May was standing in front of his door. - Good morning. It's too beautiful weather to waste for a paper job, right? - She grinned. They had a lot of league work recently, and he even took some of his papers home so he could finish everything there. But they both deserve a break, although one day break. He swallowed, starting to get a little stressed out. He did not expect that from all the people she was the one that agressively attacked his door with knocking. - May? Yes, of course, good morning, but what are y-... She interrupted him again, this time simply passing by him and getting inside. Steven sighed resignedly. - Dress up, we go out! - May said sitting down on the couch waiting impatiently for him to dress up into something other than pijamas. - But where are we going? - He asked her before he went to the bedroom to change. - Secret. - That's all she said. He put down the picnic basket that had been pushed into his hands and went to get dressed. May started to look around his house. It was always so cold and empty in here. She looked at the table where year ago he left letter and ball with Beldum for her. This Beldum right now is fully grown Metagross and important part of her team. He came back at the end of March and since then, every time they saw eatchother, it was work related. She didn't want their relationship to like like this, they used to be good friends. Or rather in her eyes they were friends. She had no idea what he thinks about her. One day he said, that he likes hard working people, and that's why he likes her so much. But was it the only reason for him to like her? Has he felt the same excitement she had everytime they met? This accelerated heartbeat, sweating of the hands or burning on the cheeks? This huge desire to catch the other's hand?  She began to nervously play with her fingers. She liked to think that she was important to him, that this is the reason he left her a letter for her in his own house, as if knowing she would come here. That she will come to visit him. She shook her head. May, don't think about it, today is supposed to be cheerful, nice day. Finally he left the room dressed in his standard suit. He always looked good in it. She smiled at him calmly. May stood up from the couch and took the basket in her hands. - Let's go! Be careful, I walk rather quickly. - She warned him and wanted to open the door, but he overtook her at doing so and let her go first. As always. - Will you finally tell me where are we going, May? - She loved the way he was saying her name. - Nope, I wont. - May stuck out her toung. - Follow me, don't get lost on the way you may know. - She said speeding up her pace. He tried to go as fast as she did. Finally, she slowed down in a more stable, calm step. - You're out of energy, or can you gave up your own race? - He put a hand on her shoulder to slow down to the same pace as she did. She laughed. - Me? Giving up? That's not it. I just want to enjoy good weather and good company. - Either it seemed to her, or there was a slight blush on his left cheek. - I'm a good company? - He asked with slight disbelief. Often, people were bored in his company because he was starting to talk out of nowhere about either stones or other abstract subjects. She looked at him with one eyebrow raised - Steven, you are really good company, especially in my opinion. - She answered his question, looking away. He is a very good company, especially in her opinion, especially good company for her. - I like to hear your voice when you talk about what interests you. - May said quietly, but he still could hear her. This time he gently blushed on both cheeks. - R-Really? - His heart jumped to the throat, and May became more red. - Of course, you goof. - She laughed. It ended up with Steven happily tellling her about his last findings from back when he was in Kalos. She listened to him with curiosity and a smile, but also with a heartache. So he was in Kalos. She was looking for him. She searched in whole Hoenn, looked for him in Sinnoh, Kanto. She gave up on Johto. May couldn't find him at all, she totally gave up. She was afraid he wouldn't come back, but he returned. They stopped in a small meadow near the park. It took him some time to realize that she stopped. - So, this is where we stop? - He started looking around. - Exactly. - She answered briefly and put the basket down. She took a blanket out of it and spread it. While sitting down she took his hands and pulled him on that blanket. He had cold hands, but not as cold as the rings he wore. They were pretty rough, obviously from digging. Her smile become slightly sad. She wanted to hold him by the hands, but she let them go and started to take things out of the picnic basket. - I like spring. - She muttered, concentrating on taking out the food that she had specifically made for the picnic. - I love when everything blooms and comes back to life. I like it when it comes back - everything that had disappeared for the winter. - She looked around. The glade was covered with flowers. She adored such views. - And you, do you like spring, Steven? He was thinking about something. She saw a slight blush on his ears and smiled. - I like spring, especially May. May is really beautiful. In May bloom most of the flowers in the year. When it all comes everything becomes lively, everyone smiles charmed by the beauty and positive energy of this month. - His blush moved to his cheeks and he looked down at his hands. - I wish there was always May. His words made her face all red and heart beat really hard. He didn't  talk about her, he talked about a month - she repeated this thought over and over again . This isn't about her. She took a deep breath. Damn it. Gently, she hesitantly moved her trembling hand on his. Her second equally shaking hand, placed on his cheek to direct his gaze on herself. Both were equally red. They were both equally stressed out. Both hands sweated. They both wanted to hold each others hands. Before she could say anything he did it first. - I wish you were always here, May. He again looked away embarrassed by what he said. He've never felt like this before. He never felt the way he felt since he knew her. He didn't need to hold someone by the hand, hug someone, take care of someone, and think about someone the way he thought about her. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw her, and while opening them, hoped for her to still be before his eyes. With her came a sudden revival, everything began to bloom, the colors seemed brighter. It was warmer inside his heart. She was just like spring, so warm and lively. So colourful and happy. She said nothing, only smiled gently. He was about to withdraw, he was about to apologize for what he said. She, however, only rubbed his cheek with her thumb and then, with faster heartbeat she got closer. Gently pressed her lips to his, not too sure how to do it properly. They both felt the temperature rise, sudden spark between them as their lips gently brushed. They were both too afraid to let go, feeling that when they do, everything will just disappear. She pulled away first, only to hug him tight. - When you were gone, no matter if it was summer or autumn, everything was gray and cold. Everything was just like winter when you suddenly disappeared. Now finally spring came back because you did. She muttered slightly, hugging him tighter. After a moment he returned the hug by pressing her more to himself. - From today, spring will last forever.