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submalevolentgrace · 1 year

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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

#prosthesis #prosthetic #disability #ableism

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yoonsenji · 6 months

Text

Summary: Their voice line!

"Oh! Her? She's mine"

Part 2 =

_____________________________

Genshin impact!

Character: Lyney, wanderer, tartaglia,

//Lyney★

• CHAT : Soulmate.

" Oh no I don't have any lover, yet... I do have someone in mind for a long time tho, it's just that I can't even breath properly around them when I want to confess. I do wonder if she ever think about me the same way I think about her "

• CHAT : When it rains.

" when rain pours like this she would used to run outside and dance in the rain. She would always insist that I join her, of course I accept! I could never reject the love of my life "

• CHAT : After the rain.

" Great, the weather is clear again... I wonder where she is right now, say, do you think she's thinking about me right now? I hope so to "

• CHAT : When it snow.

" Achoo! Huh...? I've heard that when you sneeze someone is thinking about you. Could it be her? Or... Is it you? "

• CHAT : Secret [ 1 ] .

" I love it when she hold onto me for dear life when anything bad happened. Teasing her about it only make things worst so I just hold her back, she reminds me of a kitten, do not tell her I say that tho. She would kill me "

• CHAT : Secret [ 2 ] .

" I always lie about my hand being cold just so I could hold her hand. She's to clueless to understand that I'm lying, although her hand is very warm/cold, now I'm starting to miss her again! "

• CHAT : Feelings [ Jealousy ] .

" I have to admit... I hate to see her close with anyone else, I know it's wrong to feel this way but... It's not very nice to get that close to someone who is already taken. I meant about to be taken "

• CHAT : Feelings [ Sad ] .

" Whenever I perform on stage I always look for her. Sometimes she wouldn't come to watch me performed, no magic trick feel magical without her "

• CHAT : Feelings [ Proud ] .

" Whenever she praise or complement me I feel like someone else... I get praise and complements alot but, her's... Just special "

• CHAT : You.

" She rarely talk to new people, I really have to force her sometimes to make new friends since I'm a bit worried about her. But, she's awesome I promise you! She's like an angel, someone who hide their beauty yet once you see their true form you'll be lovestruck, that happened to me. She's very caring when you get to know her better. "

• CHAT : Family.

" Family? Well I do often think about that. I'm good with kids so even if she isn't good with them atleast I am! Well, if she doesn't want kid I'll respect her decision, my love won't disappear just because of some rules she wish for me to follow. As a man it's my job to follow the rule she wish for me to follow "

• CHAT : To remembered.

" One time, she got very mad with me, she look very cute when she was mad but I'll never say that out loud. I did apologise but she continues to ignore me. Oh yeah! She did come back crying and apologize she look traumatized that day "

• CHAT : Excuse.

" I would purposely ruin my bow tie so she could fix it for me, whenever she got that close to me I just want to hold her and kiss her "

• CHAT : Private show.

" Sorry, but this show is for her only... No amount of mora can buy such special show, afterall a special show for a special person! "

• CHAT : Confession.

" I was thinking of something along the line of my speciality Magic! But, I never knew confessing about feeling was this hard until today... Say, would you say yes if I were to confess? "

• CHAT : Busy day.

" Today's a special day! I get to spend the whole day with my darling. Of course I have to look good! I don't care how she look but I on the other hand have to since she always look angelic no matter what and if I look bad I'll ruin her reputation! "

---------------->

Lynette -

" Lyney can't go a day without speaking about her in any way or form. At first I got really annoyed but thinki jing about it now... It's really sweet. They both clearly like eachother yet never confess about their feelings, I'm just confused at this point "

Freminet -

" I know nothing about her, she's completely a mystery to people like me. If you want to know anything about her go talk to Lyney... He'll be able to tell you her whole routine and even her whole life? "

Furina -

" Lyney fall first and fall harder for sure..! I just wanna see them together, it feel like one of those drama that took ages for the lead to kiss eachother... Boring! "

//Scaramouch★

• CHAT : Feeling.

" Feelings? Are you that dumb? No surprise, puppets do not fall in love, puppets do not have feelings... Why should I fall in love when I don't even have a heart, your way of thinking amused me everyday "

• CHAT : You.

" Annoying, dumb to the point it amused me, I only stay close to her cause she entertained me nothing else... I assure you, I am only using her, when I'm done I'll drop her without a second thought "

• CHAT : When it Rains.

" I wonder where that dumb girl is at, probably already soak by the rainfall. She really is dumb when I'm not around "

• CHAT : After rain.

" I could never understand why she act so childish after rain... All good thing must come to end but, it's not that nice to see her happiness fade away... What?! No I meant that I just hate it when her happiness doesn't last long since the longer you're happy the despair last longer! "

• CHAT : His Hat.

" Why should I let you, a dirty human touch my hat... I only let her touch my hat because she isn't as dirty as you are. Quit speaking back to me, if you know what's good for you you'll shut your mouth right now "

• CHAT : Special treatment.

" So...? I let her touch me cause I allow her to, it's call concent. Special treatment? Ok? if a mortal can have favourite why can't I have one? Go cry about it "

• CHAT : Passing time.

" Usually, I spend more time with her than I'll ever spend with anyone else. She managed to entertain me in the dumbest way ever, talking about her I really miss causing arson with her. I'm just joking but it's a good suggestion tho "

• CHAT : Feelings ( Jealousy ).

" Close, too close Don't you think? Exactly... If I could that guy head would already poof... Gone. Too bad I'm not in the mood to run from consequences, although it would be fun to mess around for a bit "

• CHAT : Remember.

" Don't put anything there, I'll ruin your life if you move a single things from there. Oh, and your so called food... Is not how she like her food, make it again or else I'll feed you to the tiger "

• CHAT : Smile.

" Heh, smile...? For what? I assure you I won't smile at pointless things, the only person who get to see me smile is her, why? Cause I say so, stop asking so much questions "

• CHAT : Inazuma.

" that place... The only good memory I have there is when I met her, she haven't leave nor betrayed me, I wonder how long it'll take for her to understand that I'm a bad person "

• CHAT : Nightmare.

" I have dreamt about her leaving me before, It'll be such a shame if she actually leave me. But, it's been years now, pointlessly following me like a dog, I doubt she'll leave me anytime soon "

---------------->

Nahida-

" Oh her! Such lively and loyal person, he never reject any request as long as she's involved! I could tell that he is deeply I love, I mean who wouldn't? She have been with him since day one never leaving him... They're perfect for eachother "

Raiden-

" who? Oh her... I could never forget her of course. She left me for that thing she have only known for how much not as long as we know eachother... She was loyal and passionate about anything she set her mind to, only for that thing to somehow steal my treasure, people like her are indeed rare to find. If you find one never let them go never "

Tartaglia-

" her? Ever since he disappeared so did she. She was always around him or he was always around her, either way I could tell that he act different towards her, alot nicer, act more calmly he even lower down his guard. I don't really know much about her but if she can keep him in check than she sure is something "

//Tartaglia★

• CHAT : You.

" Well, she play very dirty while fighting. I still admire her, especially when she's covered with blood she look very hot. Although I have to force her to spend more time with me, I won't leave her alone until I get rid of this feeling "

•CHAT : Feeling.

" The feeling I harbour for her is quite unique, she's way more softer and sweeter if the other harbinger are gone. My heart have been calling out her name alot and by alot I meant from day to night even in my dream. Traveller if you encounter her told her that I kiss her already "

• CHAT : Fatui.

" I only enjoy meeting the other harbinger because she'll be there patiently waiting for me, unlike the other harbinger she is rarely busy doing something. Maybe because she always drop her task as soon as I call I hope so to... But that isn't the case unfortunately, she just ignore all her task and enjoy her life "

• CHAT : Loyalty.

" I'm very loyal to the Tsaritsa, although I can't say the same for her. While other harbinger fear or respect or pretend to she's just unhinged, if she say no nothing can move her decision the Tsaritsa herself have scold her and lecture her like a kid. I have a feeling those two have deeper connection "

• CHAT : When it Rains.

" I remember she once told me while it was raining just like this that she wish to die as soon as possible. I'm worried about her, ever since that day I try my best to always be by her side although it's such a difficult task, if you ever got to see her please do look after her as well "

• CHAT : After rain.

" The rain have stop... Oh comrade, I remember something important. After rain she always confined inside instead of showing herself to the sun, weird but it's cute... Although I really want her to get out more often "

• CHAT : Strength.

" Well if I was to compare our strength together I'm alot stronger, she's a higher rank cause of intelligence and her dirty tricks, even when I have a combat with her she always win using some dirty tricks against me "

• CHAT : Family.

" My brother trucer like her alot when I say alot I meant it... It's a bit worrisome on my side since I do not which to have anymore rival, although my parents sure love her... I'm sure in the future that she'll be mine "

• CHAT : Feelings ( jealousy).

" ...well, she isn't found of people yet sometimes doesn't say anything when others are being too.. touchy, that's when I step in to help her out. Sometimes I have to speak for her since she's clearly uncomfortable but to busy to waste her energy, really want to slice then in half but... I prefer not to be messy around her "

• CHAT : Snow.

" Not as cold as my homeland is but I for sure would like to cuddle with her "

• CHAT : Tricks.

" In order to accomplish her duties she always used other for her sake... Well, I am indeed includ to that list of toy but I'm the only one she gives reward after... And spend most time with so...? I'm more of a personal helper of hers than a toy "

• CHAT : Reward.

" As my reward she always give me a peek on the cheek... She did say that she'll actually kiss me if I keep doing such good job! I just know that I'll earn that kiss one day after all... I'm her favourite, am I wrong? "

• CHAT : Private time.

" Comrade promise not to tell anyone else? Whenever it's cold she would cuddle me close... I really miss those days for sure, but in the morning she would be gone and I'll never see her again for like months "

-------------->

Zhongli-

" Such a weird lady she is... Childe is stuck to her like a moth following a devine light, although she isn't the best talker nor good at expressing herself, her charm is really strong tho. I could tell her and childe have deep connection "

Wandere-

" Her? Oh I remember her, only listening to herself and no one else, quite brave if I have to say so myself... She's just a suck up brat who only listen to herself no one else matter, the world revolves around her... Won't be surprised if she was only using childe for her own entertainment "

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ro-is-struggling · 5 months

Text

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 2 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: All she wanted was to show Geralt that she could be part of his world, that it was worth putting in the effort to build a future together. He was her true home, the person she belonged to, the one who gave her life purpose, and all she wanted was to share the rest of her life with him. But things were not so simple and the differences that separated them were far too many.

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, a bit of jealousy and sexual tension, banter, mentions of blood and canon typical violence, angst at the end, my poor knowledge of the saga probably

English is not my first language

Word count: 15.500

Notes: the part with the hirikka is definitely not there just cause I thought it was cute and I got pissed off when the dude killed it in that episode of season 1, nope, not at all…ALSO the show is not very clear with the whole signs thing so everything that I wrote about them is based off things I read about the games and my own imagination, so sorry if it’s wrong/not true to the story

READ PART 1 HERE

"I want to go with you."

The words escaped so casually from the young woman's lips that Geralt had to ask her to repeat them to make sure he had heard correctly. It was the middle of the night and he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing on his eyelids, but refusing to give in for some reason. He wasn't expecting to hear those words. In fact, he wasn't expecting to hear her speak at all since he thought she was still asleep, so her voice alarmed him.

"Go with me where?" The witcher mumbled his voice hoarse from sleep. His eyes opened to look at the princess resting beside him, tucked into his chest as her fingers nervously traced the lines of the scars on his chest.

"I don't know," she shrugged, still not returning his gaze. "Wherever you're heading next."

Geralt frowned slightly. They had known each other for quite some time. Since he had helped her escape from her family he had shown up countless times at her door, seeking the aid of her healing powers and, more importantly, her company. And in all that time she had never shown any kind of interest in what he did outside the walls of her home. She asked him questions, sure, and constantly scolded him for being "too irresponsible" —her words, not his—, but she had never expressed an interest in joining him on his travels.

That was kind of the point of their implicit agreement, so he didn't really mind that much. She was his secret helper, the motivation that drove him to do his job better. It was all worth it if at the end of a contract he was compensated according to his work and effort and, most importantly, if he had the chance to stop by her house to restore his energy. Geralt had always seen their relationship as sacred, a parallel world in which he could take refuge when things became too complicated or overwhelming. It was why he had never thought of taking her along on one of his trips. And it was also the reason for his surprise at that request.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

The young woman shrugged again and was silent for a moment as she tried to decide on what to answer. It wasn't that she didn't know —she was well aware of the motivations behind her words—, but rather that she wasn't sure if she should express them so openly out loud.

"That's not an answer, sunshine." Geralt pressed her and she let out a quiet snort.

"I want to explore the world, see what other options I have. I thought that this place was all I needed, but lately I've been questioning it." She finally said, glancing up to meet Geralt's eyes.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Yes, in the last few months she had found herself questioning her decisions, wondering if perhaps the world had more to offer her. She was happy in her hut, living among nature, away from her family that had hurt her so much. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that she still hadn't found the true purpose of her life. She had managed to free herself from the oppressive clutches of her parents who wanted to impose on her a future she hated, and while that was an achievement in itself, she still couldn't imagine a clear future for herself. Well, actually she could, it just wasn't a very realistic future.

All she wanted was to be with Geralt.

It was something that took her time to accept, partly because she knew it wasn't a good idea. She knew that Geralt was a... complicated man, with an unconventional lifestyle. She also knew that they were almost complete opposites. He was a man of great experience, gained after living years on the continent, and she was a young runaway princess who had lived her entire life controlled by the desires and expectations of others, and only now had the ability to choose and control her destiny. He was cold, calculating, capable of remaining calm even when faced with the worst of dangers, and she was impulsive and sentimental, often feeling things ten times as strongly as the common person. He was quiet and reserved, and used to living a wandering life, while she was cheerful and sociable, and desperate to find a place to belong.

But despite all the things that set them apart, she couldn't help but feel a deep connection to him. And she couldn't ignore the happiness that came over her every time he showed up at her door or the loneliness that haunted her when he left. Her days were miserable when she was alone, her mind always finding a way to focus on him again. She spent her time wondering where he was and what he was doing, worrying about his safety and health. She often wondered if he was also thinking about her and if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Waiting for his return was an agony that became more difficult the more time they spent together. The more she got to know Geralt, the more she fell in love and the more it pained her to see him go. The few days he used to spend at her home were no longer enough for her. She wanted to be with him at all times, to learn more about his world, to join him in his adventures, to be more than a refuge away from his daily reality. She wanted to share her life with him, and for him to share his life with her.

"I thought you liked it here." Geralt's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"I do!" She was quick to reply. "I just... I'm not sure this is what I want for my future. I feel like there's a lot more out there for me to explore..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain her feelings without revealing too much.

"And what makes you think that coming with me will help you find what you're looking for?" Geralt asked her and she shrugged again.

"It's a start. You travel all over the continent, what better way to explore the world than by being by your side?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, sunshine." The witcher sighed. Her eyes reflected the pain those words awakened in her and he felt horrible for saying them, but he knew it was for the best. The road, his way of life, was not meant for someone like her.

"Why not?" she murmured, barely containing the pout that was trying to form in her sad expression.

"Because it's too dangerous. I don't just travel the continent, I fight evil, dangerous creatures. I cant do my job if I'm worried about your safety."

"I'm not asking you to let me fight with you, I'm asking you to let me tag along and explore the world with you. I don't have to be near any kind of danger."

"Well, that's what Jaskier always says and he always gets dragged into danger."

"Would it help if I promised to keep my distance and always listen to you and follow your orders?" She looked at Geralt with an innocent face, batting her eyelashes and pouting to try to convince him. She looked so adorable that it was honestly hard for him to refuse her.

"He always says that too." He countered with a half smile that widened slightly at the sight of her annoyed frown. She always looked pretty when she was angry, that was the reason why most of the time he didn't listen to her scolding —he always got lost in her beauty.

"Why are you being so mean?" She accused him, sitting on the bed with her arms folded and a look of dismay.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being careful and protecting you."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t need your protection?"

Geralt was silent for a moment, admiring her face in the dim light. He knew he was exaggerating, that it was entirely possible for her to travel with him without anything bad happening to her. But it was also possible that things could go wrong and that alone was enough to bring up his fear of losing her. His work —and his life itself— was somewhat unpredictable at times. He didn't always choose when to confront evil creatures. Sometimes he crossed paths with one by pure coincidence and there was nothing he could have done to avoid it. He had a moral obligation to act in such situations, so danger always lurked, following in his footsteps closely, waiting for the most opportune moment to attack. Geralt was used to it, it was his daily reality, the only one he had ever known - since his life before his transformation was not even a distant memory in his mind.

But it was not her reality. She had lived in a castle for most of her life and was only now beginning to be completely independent. She was not prepared for the kind of danger that a witcher's life entailed. Her little knowledge of medicinal and healing magic could not protect her. And if he failed at that too... Geralt didn't even want to think about it.

"Maybe," he said, in a calm voice, "but I need to protect you... I need to know that you're alright."

Her gaze softened as a warm sensation ran through her body. The sincerity in his voice made her want to smile. He cared about her, about her safety and well-being. He needed her. He sought to protect her because he didn't want to lose her and that was reason enough for her heart to race and her eyes to fill with illusion.

"I know you do and I appreciate it." She spoke, voice soft and posture relaxed. She reached up to stroke his cheek, gently moving a lock of hair from his face so she could look into his eyes. Geralt leaned into her touch in an almost imperceptible movement, unable to resist the warm caress of her fingers. "Everything that I have, I owe it to you. You helped me be free and I trust you with my life, not just to protect me but to guide me... to help me find my way. There is really no other person I could ask for something like this... there is no one I trust more than I trust you."

And just like that, the discussion was over. All Geralt had to do was look into her eyes —those beautiful warm eyes that brought him so much comfort and happiness— and he lost all ability to fight. His own thoughts and worries were replaced by the need to make her happy. All he wanted was to see that sparkle in her eyes and know that he was the cause of it, the reason she was smiling. How could he refuse her requests when she looked at him with such illusion as she spoke those sweet words to him? He was willing to do anything to make her happy, even if it meant throwing caution to the wind.

"You have to promise that you will never leave my sight and that you will do what I say without question."

The young woman's face lit up immediately, a big smile playing across her lips as she looked at the witcher with wide open eyes. She looked like a child who had gotten her wish fulfilled. "Is that a yes?"

Geralt sighed with resignation and nodded his head. She let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug him as she repeated over and over how grateful and happy she was with his decision. A small, subtle smile tugged at his lips, feeling that comforting warmth run through his body as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He was worried about what might happen, but for the moment that didn't matter. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his and the kiss she planted on his cheek as a thank you. She was happy and that made it all worth it.

"Just don't make me regret it." He warned her and she shook her head.

"I promise I'll be good. You won't regret this, Geralt."

Geralt wouldn't say he regretted his decision completely, but he couldn't say he was happy either. He had greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with her getting distracted every time she saw a pretty bird fly overhead and complaining about the long journey that never seemed to end —she didn't seem to realize that her presence had a lot to do with the slowness of their journey. She wasn't holding up her end of the bargain completely either, which made Geralt worry more than usual about every step he took. While she listened to his directions and stayed in place when he instructed her to, she also took advantage of any moments of distraction —usually when he slept— to wander around the forest alone and without carrying a weapon to protect herself.

It wasn't all bad, though. Yes, she drove him mad with her songs to nature and her need to stop every time they came across a wounded animal, but Geralt couldn't deny that a part of him loved that about her. He loved seeing the smile that appeared on her face when a deer crossed her path or the sparkle in her eyes as she admired the sun setting over the river. There was an innocence in her attitude that captivated him. An amazement at the world around her that was so foreign to him, and yet so charming. After living so many years on the continent, he could not imagine experiencing such a fascination with the world. He admired it in a way, it reminded him of a time long ago, of a life he thought was buried in the darkness of his memory. It was part of her charm, part of the reason he couldn't seem to get away from her. She awakened the good in him, a light he thought he had lost after undergoing the mutations that turned him into the witcher he was today.

So, as much as he panicked every time she got too far away from him, he still wouldn't change a thing. Everything that made him groan in the daytime was worth it when she would curl up against him in front of the campfire at night, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the calm of the forest soothe her to sleep. It was actually embarrassing how much time Geralt spent admiring her beauty under the moonlight, watching her sleep peacefully curled up next to him as if she were the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen. There was something about nature and the outdoors that awakened a special glow in her, a magnetic aura that kept him from taking his eyes off her. So he stayed awake at night longer than he should, watching her sleep while his mind was lost in thought.

She was the last thing he saw before falling asleep, the last thing he thought about and dreamed about. Every night Geralt would give her a kiss on the forehead before settling down beside her. It was quick and soft so as not to disturb her sleep, but he needed it to know that she was real, that someone so wonderful had decided to follow him in his dark and tumultuous life. Every night, the witcher went to sleep thinking about her, how lucky he was to have her by his side and how important she was to him. He thought of the dangers that surrounded him and silently wished that nothing bad would ever happen to her. That was one of the recurring nightmares he had, returning one night to her hut and not finding her there. The idea of her relationship with him being what would ultimately lead to her demise haunted him.

Not being there to protect her from the evils of the continent was one of his greatest worries. Losing her was his greatest fear. So when he opened his eyes in the morning and did not find her by his side he jumped up as panic began to take over his body. He called her name several times, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the forest, but he got no response other than the sound of fluttering birds fleeing in fear of the disturbance. Geralt was preparing to set out to hunt whatever it was that had taken her, when the wind brought the melodious sound of her voice to his ears. He followed it through the trees and bushes, feeling his nerves calm as he listened to her laughter. She wasn't in danger, she was just being careless, as usual.

"Geralt!" she exclaimed with a smile as she looked up to meet her companion's white hair sticking out among the green bushes. "Thank the gods that you are here, I need you to help me move him."

The witcher looked at her in confusion for a moment, until he looked down at her lap where a badly wounded creature rested. But it wasn't just any creature, it was a hirikka that looked at him with big yellow eyes full of terror. From the size of the beast, Geralt guessed it was just a puppy, and since it wasn't attacking anyone he assumed it was well fed —though his benevolence could very well be just the effect of the young princess on the creature since she tended to have a special relationship with animals. Still, it had been careless of her to approach the animal, especially while he slept. If the creature had been adult and hungry, it could have been very dangerous for her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said before Geralt could open his mouth. He didn't need to speak to let her know what he thought of her actions, she could read it in his face. "His cries of pain woke me up and I just couldn't leave him to suffer."

"So you walked away from the camp and tended to the wounds of a dangerous creature without bothering to even wake me up?"

"Oh he could never hurt me! Look at those big, adorable eyes! He wouldn't hurt a fly, would you baby?" she excused herself, petting the hirikka's head as if it were a dog.

"He could have hurt you if he was hungry." the witcher huffed, unable to believe he was having such a conversation.

"He's a baby, Geralt, and it's wounded. I'm pretty sure I can defend myself from a wounded animal."

"That's not the point. You risked your life wandering into the woods like that!"

"I'm fine!" She dismissed his concerns, completely oblivious to the panic that swept through him when he woke up without her by his side. "Now help me move him, we need to get him to the mountain."

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but hirikkas usually live around the mountains, right?" Geralt nodded, already guessing where the young woman's argument was headed. "That means that this poor little thing is far from home. He probably came here for food and then got lost and wounded. We need to find his family so they can protect him."

"Hirikkas are a really rare species, what makes you think he even has a family in the first place?"

"Well, he's young he has to have someone taking care of him." She said as it was obvious causing Geralt to roll his eyes.

"We passed the mountains two days ago, we can't just go back to search for a group of creatures that may not even be there in the first place."

"We can't leave him here alone either, he will die! You said it yourself, hirikkas are a rare species, if someone finds him they're definitely going to kill him!"

"Sunshine, we can't…"

"Please! We don't even have to get him to the mountains, just close enough for his family to hear his cries." She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pout on her lips. How could he refuse her wishes when she looked so adorable and vulnerable? It was a waste of time, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. She was too pure, too good for this world.

He knew how much she cared for the animals, the urge she felt to help them. According to the things she had told him about her life, the woods surrounding her old home had been her refuge. She hid there to escape the orders and hurtful comments of her family, finding more support in the wild rabbits and deers than in the people who lived in her castle. It was also the place where she had discovered her magical healing skills and the only place where she tended to use them. She had a deep connection with nature and Geralt knew there would be no convincing her to leave the animal alone to its fate.

"We'd have to backtrack two days of travel." He tried to reason with her, a last resort to see if he could get her to change her mind.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, just help me load him on the horse and I'll go by myself. You can go to the village and wait for me there."

"I'm not leaving you out here alone!" Geralt firmly stated. Then he let out a sigh of defeat. "You stay here, I'll go find Roach."

He made his way back to Roach mumbling to himself, unable to believe he had agreed to waste time backtracking his steps to help an injured animal. It was sad, yes, but normally he wouldn't stop for it. It's the law of nature. You are born, you grow, you reproduce and eventually you die. There was no point in worrying about things that were out of one's control.

But she cared. Even if it was an animal that inspired terror in most people. Even if it was a small, insignificant creature that no one would miss, she would. She still talked about the rodent she once rescued from the clutches of a hungry owl as if it was one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. She cared about everyone, even when no one seemed to care about her —her family had stopped looking for her long ago and her subjects had not been saddened by the news. She cared, and that was enough for him to care too.

"What am I doing?" muttered Geralt to himself as he adjusted the horse's saddle. "Wasting days of travel just for a wounded animal." Roach snorted, shaking her head and tugging at the reins in the witcher's hands. He took a moment to pet the animal, letting out an airy chuckle. "I know, I know, she's worth it." He added before setting off down the path to where she stood waiting for him. She had won yet again.

“Oh stop being so grumpy! It wasn’t that bad.” She exclaimed, playfully nudging at his shoulder in an attempt to get a smile out of the witcher. He had been silent for hours now, communicating with her through grunts and frowns. Sure, the rain that had caught them in the middle of their journey wasn't ideal, but at least they were close to town when the first drops began to fall from the sky. "For a person who lives on the road, you don't seem too used to riding in a little rain."

"I am, I just find it annoying when we weren't supposed to be out in the rain in the first place." Geralt grumbled and she smiled, happy that he was back to communicating verbally.

"You don't know that, something else could have slowed us down along the way."

"Yes, probably another wounded animal." he mumbled to himself, though she heard him anyway and gave him a punch in the shoulder that probably hurt her more than it hurt him.

"We saved a vulnerable creature from a terrible fate, you should be proud of that!" She insisted, pushing open the doors of the inn where they had stopped for shelter.

The warmth from the interior suddenly hit her, embracing her wet skin and making her realize how cold she really was. The cloak she'd worn to protect herself from the water didn't do much given the force of the storm, but she would never admit that to Geralt - to do so would mean agreeing with him and she wasn't about to do that, not in that at least. The inn's common room was full of people, some wet and tired like them, others dancing and singing, no doubt after having had a few too many drinks. There was a fireplace in the center of the room that provided warmth and illumination. Her eyes were lost in the glowing flames for a moment, wishing she could get closer to the fire to keep the cold from chilling her bones. But she gave Geralt a quick glance and knew she couldn't do that, not without him smiling victoriously at her. So instead she decided to approach who seemed to be the owner of the place to get a room.

"You stay here, he's not going to give us a room if he sees that look on your face." she said, disappearing into the sea of people before Geralt could defend himself against her comment —although he was fairly certain she had a point.

The inn owner seemed to be a kind man, though he looked overwhelmed with the number of visitors he was receiving. Apparently the storm had brought with it more people than usually passed through those roads and the man and his helpers struggled to accommodate them all. He was running from place to place, checking the available rooms at every turn and chasing after his workers to escort people to their quarters. The waitresses were also overworked, navigating the crowds of people to bring jars of beer and plates of warm food to the tables full of cold people. Taking a closer look at the state of the place made her begin to fear that she might not find an available room. She had no idea how far it would be to the next inn, but even if it was a couple of feet away, it would be too far for the heavy rain falling from the sky. If they had to go out and get wet again, she would have to put up with Geralt's scowl for the rest of the night and as cute as he looked when he was angry, she didn't feel like listening to his complaints.

“Letha! Could you please check if room ten is still available?” The man shouted, calling out to his maid, when she asked if they still had any rooms available. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a moment."

"Busy night, huh?" She tried to make small talk, finding the silence too uncomfortable to bear.

"Yeah, it's a miracle! I haven't had the place this crowded in a long time."

"Why not? It's a beautiful place."

"There have been strange happenings going on in this part of town that affected businesses like mine." The man explained with some sadness and insecurity in his voice. It was subtle, but enough to peak his curiosity. So she continued to question him in hopes that he would share more of that mystery with her.

"There have been strange disappearances, people vanishing into thin air leaving almost no trace of their passage through these lands. At first they were just travelers, so no one really noticed or cared, myself included. Until it started to happen a lot more frequently. Every couple of days someone would find some traveler's belongings scattered along the road leading out of town, but no trace of the person. Eventually word spread and travelers stopped using this road to come into town and both my business and neighboring ones were severely affected."

"Do you know what it is that is causing these disappearances? Do you have any theories?"

"People say the road is cursed, I've heard people talk about an evil witch and others claim it's a punishment from the gods, but no one knows what's really going on. The rest of the town doesn't believe us much either, so the mayor doesn't do anything about it."

"He's going to pay for that mistake," a waitress interrupted the conversation, leaving the empty tray on the counter as she leaned over the wood to join the conversation. "It's getting worse. Now that there's no more travelers, people from the town are starting to disappear. If he doesn't believe us now, he will soon."

The young princess wanted to continue investigating, but before she could ask about the recent disappearances, the maid returned to tell her that room ten was ready for use. She thanked her and paid for the night using the money she had earned selling her goods at the fair in the village where she lived. It was her way of compensating Geralt for the inconvenience caused without having to admit to his face that he was right.

"We have a room for the night, can you please change your attitude now?" She announced when she returned to him.

Despite her request, Geralt's frown became more prominent. Only this time his eyes were not on her, but on something that had caught his attention over her shoulder. She looked at him with a strange look on her eyes, but before she could ask him what it was that was bothering him now, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she met the face of a curly-haired man that had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. He was cute, she thought, so she offered him a smile.

He introduced himself as Arlan, not wasting a second before showing his true intentions as he made a subtle bow while kissing the back of her hand in a flirtatious manner. He mentioned something about her beauty - how he had noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors since she lit up the room with her smile or something like that - a corny line, but one that could have been effective were it not for the fact that her heart already belonged to someone else. The man invited her to dine with him in a very respectful manner, and a part of her was tempted to accept his offer. After all, she wasn't used to receiving that kind of attention. But before she could utter a sound, Geralt cleared his throat behind her back to make himself noticed.

"She can't, she's busy. Goodbye." He answered for her in a much more serious and intimidating tone than usual. He fixed his gaze on the man, looking at him with that intimidating look he gave when he wanted to make sure no one bothered him. His yellow eyes flared with anger, his brow furrowed in annoyance. It didn't take long before the man fled in fright, muttering something about rescheduling for another time with no real conviction in his voice.

"Geralt!" the young woman turned to deliver a punch on his shoulder. "That wasn't very nice of you! Why did you do that?"

"He was being annoying, so I made him leave."

"No he wasn't, he was being nice and polite." She crossed her arms, looking at the witcher with confusion. She had never seen him act like this before. Grumpy and bitter, sure, hundreds of times, but there was something different about the way he reacted. He had been too quick to dismiss the man, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was holding back the urge to separate his head from his neck. It made no sense, the poor guy was just flirting with her, no reason to spark such a reaction from Geralt.

Unless...

"Is that jealousy I detect in those intimidating yellow eyes?" She laughed and Geralt let out a snort. "Are you jealous? Were you afraid I was going to leave you for him?" She was partially joking, taking the opportunity to tease him and see if she could get a smile out of him, but she couldn't deny that the mere possibility of that being true made her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"I'm not jealous, I'm protecting you from a bastard that wants nothing more than to defile your honor."

"He didn't seem like a bastard to me."

"We were outside in the pouring rain, sunshine. You're soaking wet and your clothes stick to your body leaving nothing to the imagination. That's all he saw when you walked into the room, not your smile or whatever lie he told."

Geralt didn't want to sound mean, but the truth was that she could be very innocent at times. She was unaware of the effect she had on others, especially when it came to physical attraction. Geralt saw the way men looked at her and didn't like it one bit. But she didn't usually notice those details, which made him want to protect her even more.

She wanted to scold him, but he gave her no chance as he took her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd to their room. The moment the door closed behind them, Geralt instructed her to take off her wet clothes before she got sick. She let out a giggle as she took off her wet cloak, telling him that he should at least invite her to eat before asking her to do something like that.

"I mean, at least Arlan was willing to do that." She joked and Geralt gave her an unamused look.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, and I just made a joke. Lighten up a bit! You know it won't kill you to smile, right?" The witcher replied by tossing her the bag with the extra clothes she had brought, giving her a last glance before starting to change himself.

The young princess's eyes admired his naked torso for longer than was appropriate. She was used to seeing him like this, but she could never get used to the tingling in her stomach when she noticed the way the muscles in his back and arms flexed when he moved. It left her completely stupid for a few seconds, mind malfunctioning as the images of his body occupied the full capacity of her thoughts. She noticed the water droplets sliding down his skin, traveling down his scars until they disappeared at the line of his pants. That gave her the urge to reach out to touch him, to trace those lines with her own fingers, but the sound of Geralt clearing his throat brought her out of her trance.

With her face burning with embarrassment, the young woman blurted out a quick comment about how well the last wound she had treated was healing. It was a stupid excuse and not at all believable, but it was better than admitting that she lost her mind every time he took off his shirt. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew she was lying. But she didn't give him time to react, grabbing her clothes and disappearing for a much needed bath.

Geralt stood alone in the room, staring at the wood of the door with a small smile plastered on his face. She looked adorable when she was flustered and he was proud to be the reason behind it. It was a kind of vindication that put his jealousy to rest after having to endure the audacity of that man and her teasing in response. The unspoken thing they shared wasn't just in his head. She only had eyes for him, just as he only had eyes for her.

It was rather twisted of him to want her so much when he knew he couldn't –or rather, shouldn't— have her. Geralt knew that nothing good could come from him following his feelings. They were not meant to be together, they were far too different, with far too opposite lives. He would only end up hurting her either physically, putting her life at risk because of his profession, or emotionally, when reality would explode the fantasy bubble and force them to face it. He was not meant to settle down in one place and live a calm and happy life. Maybe at some point in the distant past he was, long before he went through the mutation process that had turned him into the witcher he was now. But he had accepted long ago that that life, the possibilities and paths he could have taken, had died the moment the mutations began to change his body. It made no sense to duel in the past, to fight against nature to force something that was impossible. It was a waste of time and energy.

Geralt had lived by that principle most of his life. However, when it came to her he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he decided to stay, if he left everything behind to follow his heart. Intoxicated by the scent of her hair and enraptured by the sound of her laughter it was easy to lose himself in the fantasy that they had a future together, that their relationship could be more than fleeting visits and late night escapes to avoid facing the reality of the mornings. He would have to be extra careful on this trip, control his emotions so as not to give in to the fantasy.

By the time she returned, Geralt was waiting for her with a tray of food resting on the small table in the center of the room. There were two plates of steaming stew, some bread, and two jars of ale. She smiled at the gesture, feeling warmth spreading through her body from her stomach as she approached Geralt.

"What is this?" She asked him, sitting down in the free chair to better inspect the food.

"I thought we'd be more comfortable eating here, away from all the noise and the people walking around." He explained as he brought the jar of beer to his mouth. She looked at him for a moment, studying his face with her eyes before letting out a chuckle. "What?"

"You really don't want me around that man, huh?" He looked at her, but didn't answer, though she didn't need him to know the answer to her question. "It's a shame because now we won't get to hear the stories about this place and the details about the job I found for you."

"What job?"

She smiled at his curiosity and proceeded to tell him what little she had managed to get out of the inn owner about the strange disappearances threatening the village. They discussed the details as they ate, debating whether there would be any veracity to the man's claims or if they were all bullshit. She felt proud of herself for having been the one to discover the problem, happy to be able to show Geralt that her presence was not completely useless.

She could get used to his life, be more than his healer. She needed some time to get used to his rhythms, but she could be useful. She could get used to anything to be by his side, to share more than a couple of days with him and then miss him for months. If this trip had proven anything, it was that no matter where they were, she would always feel at home if Geralt was by her side. He was her true home, the place where she belonged. She had been going mad looking for her purpose, her place in the world, when in reality she had already found it. It was to be by Geralt's side, to heal him and protect him from all evil. He was the piece she was missing, the only one capable of filling the emptiness that weighed her down. She wanted to be with him, she needed him to feel complete, and she was willing to do anything to show Geralt that a future together was possible, that she could adapt to live in his world.

Another disappearance occurred that same night while the town slept, but no one heard about it until the next morning, after the storm had passed. Geralt spent the day listening to the stories and opinions of anyone willing to speak on the subject, which, honestly, were more than he expected. Having his sweet princess by his side helped people open up to him. Normally he used to appear too intimidating, but with her by his side everything was easier. She was so kind and caring when talking to people that no one could refuse to answer her questions. Geralt found it comforting to know that he was not the only one unable to resist her charms.

They were talking to a waitress about the rumors she had heard when a woman entered the inn. She immediately caught Geralt's attention because she looked visibly distressed. Her voice was muffled and in her trembling hands she held a cloth handkerchief that she used to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Apparently she knew the owner of the inn because she asked to speak to him personally and burst into tears in his arms when the answer to her question was negative. Geralt gestured to the young princess and they approached them to find out if the woman's grief had anything to do with their little investigation.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" She said in a soft tone so as not to upset the poor woman even more.

"Her son is missing." The innkeeper explained to them as he tried to calm the woman's desperate crying with gentle caresses on her back. "He went out last night and never came back home. She's been asking around town and nobody has seen him."

"Is it possible that he got lost in the storm?" Geralt asked and the man shook his head, assuring him that the young man was a skilled traveler and tracker who knew the town like the back of his hand.

"It was her! I told him it wasn't wise to go out... let someone else take care of her... but he didn't listen." The woman spoke between sobs emerging from the innkeeper's arms to wipe her tears with her handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, her? There was a woman?" The princess asked and the woman nodded her head. She then proceeded to tell them about her son's last moments.

Apparently he was sheltering their farm animals from the storm when he noticed a young woman standing in the rain. She had long, jet black hair that clung to her pale skin from the water. Her dress was dirty and had the edges of the skirt in shreds, as if she had been running through the forest and the fabric had been torn by branches and bushes. She looked lost and out of place, so the young man felt the need to help her. Her mother had objected to him inviting her to spend the night at their house, acting cautiously since rumors of the mysterious disappearances had only grown in recent months. So the young man told her that he would just make sure she was all right and accompany her to an inn for the night. She watched them disappear into the darkness from her kitchen window and that was the last contact she had with her son.

"I knew something was wrong." The woman sobbed. "She was just standing there in the rain, like she was waiting for someone to pass by and fall for her trap. I should have stopped him, I should have done more." The princess patted her shoulder in support, trying to do something to make the woman feel better —even though she knew nothing she could do or say would ease the pain of a mother worried about her child.

"You are a witcher, isn't there something that you can do?" The innkeeper asked and the woman looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was clear that she was so distressed that she had not been able to recognize the clear details that indicated that the big, strong man in front of her was not an ordinary human.

"I don't have much, but I can talk to my neighbors, the other people affected by this creature, everybody who believes it's a threat to the town and find a way to pay for your service... anything to find my boy and make sure this doesn't happen again."

Geralt named his price before the woman ran out of there to round up her neighbors, though he would have taken care of the problem even if they didn't pay him for his services. He then set out to walk through the town, visiting some of the places that had been mentioned by the locals in search of evidence, though he had a good idea what it was that was haunting the locals. The princess followed him closely, remaining surprisingly silent for a long time. She wanted to give him space to work, to let him concentrate and do whatever it was he needed to do to help the villagers. But after spending several minutes in silence, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"So, what do you think?" She eventually asked him as they walked down the road where most of the disappearances had occurred, just outside of town. "Any theories about what this thing is?"

"For what they describe, I'm almost certain it is a Bruxa." The witcher replied, leaning over the ground to inspect possible footprints. "And it has to have a refugee nearby."

"A Bruxa?" She repeated with a slight frown of confusion. She had never heard that term before. Truth be told, she had never heard of most of the creatures Geralt told her about. Her kingdom was small, quiet, they didn't usually have attacks from beasts of that nature. And if they did, her parents didn't tell her about it. In her kingdom magic and everything related to it were frowned upon, hence she had learned about her abilities from a servant girl who taught her in secret from everyone. From what she understood, magic ran in the family's blood —although it tended to skip generations—, but it had always brought trouble and misfortune, so it had been forbidden in the kingdom, leaving her completely alienated and unaware of the best stories and legends the continent had to offer.

"It's a type of vampire, very powerful, that usually takes the form of a dark haired young woman to lure people into its trap."

"So you know how to kill it? I mean, of course you know how to kill it, what am I saying!"

Geralt bit back a smile. "Silver does the trick, but we need to find it first."

He explained that they usually lived away from large conglomerations of people as a form of protection, but the fact that she always attacked on the same road made him think that she must be taking refuge nearby. So they wandered through the forest surrounding the road to the village, looking for any sign that might indicate the bruxa's whereabouts. But the creature was clever, it knew how to cover its tracks, so they spent most of the day walking around and only found a couple of drops of blood and drag marks that led them nowhere. Suddenly, the princess understood how she had managed to go unnoticed for so long. If she hadn't talked to the locals and listened to the sobs of that desperate mother, she wouldn't believe that anything out of the ordinary was going on there.

"I think we are not being smart about this." She broke the silence as her patience began to wear thin. "We are never going to find her like this."

"What do you suggest we do?" Geralt inquired, partially intrigued by whatever it was she had in mind. It was interesting for him to work with her. Usually he did things alone, but her naive curiosity and sweet kindness provided a different look that changed his usual patterns.

"We know she's going to attack again, right? So we just have to make sure we are there next time to stop her."

"We can't predict who she will stack next."

"No, but we can lure her out of hiding... bring the food out here to her to tempt her and hopefully force her to make a mistake."

"So, you're saying we should use someone as bait?" Geralt looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised by her words, she didn't seem like the type of person who was willing to put others at risk for a greater good. Granted, he was going to be there the whole time and wouldn't let anything bad happen, but still, he couldn't believe that idea had come from the same young woman who had made him backtrack days of travel to help an injured animal find his family.

"Not someone. Me." She said almost casually, preparing to meet the witcher's firm refusal. He looked at her for a moment, thinking she was playing some kind of joke on him that he didn't find funny. But when he saw the determination in her eyes he had to intervene.

"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous." His tone was serious as was his gaze, a way of letting her know that this time he would not give in.

"What other choice do we have? Wait for it to kill someone else? Wander aimlessly around the woods for eternity?" She tried to reason with him. They had been walking around there for hours without much success and, while this was not something she did often, she suspected that things would not improve even if they kept looking. The bruxa was smart and wasn't going to let herself be found easily. Waiting for her to attack again was not an option either. Geralt was just one man and there was too much ground to cover. And there was no way to predict who her next victim would be. If they wanted to end this quickly they would have to force her out of hiding.

"I'm not using you as bait, sunshine." Geralt growled.

"Well, we can't risk the lives of the people in town and you can't be the bait either because she will know what you are. I don't see any other option, Geralt."

"I'm not going to risk your life for this, forget it."

"My life would not be at risk, not with you there. I trust you, probably more than I should." She tried to joke to ease the tension in the air, but Geralt did not laugh. His eyes softened, however, touched by her faith in him. It warmed his heart to notice the admiration in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if she was sure he could handle anything. It meant a lot to him that she trusted him with her life, but he couldn't help thinking that part of her did it because she was too innocent and unaware of the real risks his profession entailed. That was the only way she could be volunteering for such a task.

"Sunshine..." Geralt's voice became softer, a subtle plea for her to reconsider her stance.

"I want to do it. I want to help you... I want to help the people in town." She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out what she really wanted to say. More than anything else, she wanted to prove herself and show Geralt that his life was not incompatible with hers. Maybe she would need some training, but there was a place for her in Geralt's world. She knew it now and hoped she could prove it to him.

Geralt looked at her and once again knew he couldn't refuse her. He hated the way she was able to convince him of anything with a simple look. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes and he would fall surrendered at her feet, willing to do anything she wanted.

"If we're going to do this, I need you to promise me that you'll listen to everything I say." the witcher sighed, defeated. "And I mean it this time. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Is that clear?" She nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. Several times in the past she had promised the same thing and failed to deliver. He needed to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "I mean it, sunshine, there is no room for error in this."

The young princess then took one of Geralt's hands between her own. He was much larger than she was so that she had to use both of her hands in order to completely envelop one of his. She gave it a light squeeze and looking into his eyes as she said, "I promise to follow your every order this time."

It wasn't enough to loosen the knot that had formed in the witcher's stomach, but it was a start.

She lost count of how many times she had tossed and turned in bed since she went to sleep. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow, so Geralt decided it would be best to get a good night's sleep. She had agreed with him, especially since she felt tired after the long walk through the forest they had taken. But the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep disappeared from her body. She still felt tired —the muscles in her legs complained from the exercise and her eyelids were heavy as if she hadn't blinked for hours—, yet she was unable to fall asleep. It was as if her own mind was refusing to rest, seeking to punish her for who knows what.

She was surprised that Geralt hadn't complained about her restlessness already. He was a light sleeper and usually the slightest movement would wake him up. Several times in the past she had earned grunts of annoyance and even forced hugs for her inability to sit still, but when she turned once more to look at him she noticed that he had his eyes closed and his breathing was relaxed. She could see half of his face thanks to the moonlight coming through the window, illuminating his features and making him look softer than usual. She always loved to watch him sleep. There were not many occasions when she had the opportunity to do so since she was always the one who fell asleep first. But on the rare occasions when he did fall asleep first, she loved to admire him in silence as he rested. There was something so special and intimate about it-the way his chest moved up and down with his soft breathing, how his features relaxed completely beneath the unruly strands of white hair that clung to his face-she simply couldn't take her eyes off him.

It usually brought her peace to see him sleeping so peacefully. She fought the heaviness of her eyelids as much as she could, wanting to take advantage of every second of those moments to admire his beauty in a way she couldn't when he was awake, but eventually sleep always got the better of her. Just looking at him being so comfortable and relaxed next to her was enough to silence any voice in her mind that deprived her of her sleep. So she turned her attention back to the man lying to her left in the hope that it would help her sleep as it always did. She ran her eyes over his face, admiring the way his eyelashes almost caressed his cheeks, tracing the shape of his nose and cheek bone. Down his defined jawline to his neck and then she became distracted by the scars that adorned his body. She had them memorized after healing his wounds for so long, to the point that she didn't need the moonlight to fully shine on his chest to locate them on his skin. Even in the dark she could visualize them in her mind.

Her eyes focused on the scar that adorned his collarbone. A long, thin line was all that remained of the deep cut she had had to heal. Her finger traced the textured skin as her mind was lost in the memories of that night. It wasn't the worst state he had been in when he had shown up at her door, but still his wounds were quite deep. She had first had to clean the blood that covered his chest in order to find them all.

She liked Geralt's scars. Not only were they a part of him that she couldn't picture him without, but they were also a physical representation of his history. He carried imprinted on his skin the moments they had shared together, an indelible sign that marked her passage through the witcher's life. And every time she saw them, she couldn't help but remember those moments.

“You can't sleep either, huh?” Geralt's hoarse voice took her by surprise, snapping her out of her thoughts. When she looked up she met the witcher's amber eyes watching her curiously. A cheeky smile formed on his lips as he noticed her embarrassment at being caught in that position. She removed her hand from his chest as if his skin was burning her fingers, feeling the blood from his body travel up to pool in her cheeks. Geralt had to restrain the urge to put her hand back where it was, already missing the gentle caress of her fingers on his skin.

"No." She replied in a small voice, refusing to look up to meet his face.

There were a few seconds of silence before Geralt spoke again. "Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"I don't know if scared would be exactly the word I would use, but certainly nervous. I guess, I don't really know what to expect and that makes me feel weird... but I want to do it, so you can't convince me otherwise." she hurried to say to make sure Geralt knew she was strong and determined.

The witcher sighed and there was another moment of silence before she worked up the courage to speak again, this time looking up to meet his eyes. "Are you? Scared, I mean."

“I suppose it worries me that you may get hurt in the fight.”

"Well, don't be. Everything will be fine, you are going to kill the bruxa and nothing bad will happen to me or the people in town." She tried to reassure him, giving him a small smile. Geralt appreciated the gesture, but wished things were that simple.

"It's not as simple as that." He sighed, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face so he could get a good look at her in the dim moonlight. "Things can escalate really quickly and go wrong... I'm not invincible, sunshine. It happened to me before and it cost the life of a princess too."

A sudden sadness came into Geralt's eyes. He was looking at her, but it was as if he was looking right through her as he got lost in thought. She wondered what kind of memories were flooding his mind. He never told her about that story and she couldn't help but be curious. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but regretted it at the last minute, choosing to comfort him rather than question him.

"I'm not completely useless, you know? Back at the castle they taught me to defend myself."

"Not from these creatures, sunshine." She could sense the concern in his voice. It warmed her heart to know that he cared so much about her. It almost made her want to give up, just to bring some peace to his troubled mind. But she couldn't, she had to prove herself, prove she could do it.

Reaching out, she let her fingers trace the line of his cheek bone. Geralt closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the warmth of her caress. Then he rested his own hand on top of hers, trapping it in place so she couldn't pull it away. He needed that. He needed to feel her, her warmth, her affection, it helped him silence his thoughts.

"Would it help quiet your mind if you taught me some tricks to protect myself?" She asked him in a soft voice. "I'm a fast learner."

"Well, I suppose I could teach you about the signs. You have an aptitude for magic, so I'm certain that you will be able to conjure them."

Geralt slipped her hand from his cheek, but kept his hand on hers at all times as he briefly explained what the signs were and the uses they had. She listened carefully to every word, admiring the way his lips moved as he spoke. She loved when he told her stories of his adventures or explained details about his world, not only because she found his deep, monotone voice incredibly soothing, but also because it made her feel closer to him.

"I think the best ones to teach you right now are Aard and Quen. They are probably the most useful ones for protecting you from this particular creature." He explained, raising the young woman's hand in the air. "The form and position of your hand is very important when casting a sign. For Aard you have to have your fingers like this."

He pressed his palm against the back of her hand, positioning his fingers over hers. Slowly he bent her middle finger downward, leaving the other four aligned upward. The young woman couldn't help but notice the way Geralt's hand completely covered hers, making her feel smaller than normal next to him. The warmth of his skin felt good, comforting, it made her wish he would never move his hand away from her. She would live holding his hand if that were humanly possible. There was something about feeling his skin against hers that awakened a comforting warmth that spread throughout her entire body. It made her feel comfortable, at peace.

When she looked up, she found that Geralt's eyes were fixed on her face. The blood rushed to her cheeks once again, somehow feeling vulnerable under his watchful gaze. But she detected in them a special glow that let her know he felt the same peace in having their hands intertwined. And that put a small smile on her lips.

"This sign channels the energy of the air, so when you cast it you should focus on that... feel the air around you, how it flows, the way it makes the tree tops shake and your hair dance around you..." Geralt's voice gradually faded to a hoarse whisper. Instinctively he moved a little closer to her, their faces mere inches apart as he lost himself in images of her walking through the forest with a smile as her hair danced in the wind. His eyes fell to her lips and he felt the urge to kiss her. They looked so soft and inviting, so appetizing, as if they had been created just for him to kiss. But before he could act on his urges, her voice snapped him out of his trance, bringing him suddenly back to reality.

"What's the next one like?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. It was as if she felt sorry for ruining the moment, as if she felt compelled by the tension in the air to say something, but she really didn't want him to hear her.

Geralt cleared his throat before replying. "Quen is a protective sign, it can create a protective shield around you so I'd suggest you learn this one well. To cast it you need to bend your pinky finger, like this." He changed the position of his hand along with hers, helping her with his finger to bend her pinky.

"Can I try?" She sat on the bed to make herself more comfortable and Geralt followed. He placed his hand back on hers and guided her through the summoning process.

"Focus on your surroundings." He whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

Concentrating was harder than it seemed when she could feel the heat his body emanated and every breath he took. It collided against the sensitive skin of her neck, making the baby hairs on the back of her head stand up. Geralt had to know the effect his closeness had on her. She was pretty sure the entire inn could hear the way her heart was pounding rapidly, crashing violently against her chest. He knew and he was doing it on purpose, she was convinced of that.

"Close your eyes and visualize a shield of energy around you." He continued speaking as if nothing was happening. She listened to him, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but it was almost impossible. Especially when she could feel Geralt's lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Then she felt a spark, a current of energy shooting from the joining of their hands. She flinched and opened her eyes, taking a moment to admire their hands before looking at Geralt to see if he had felt the same thing she had.

"You almost got it." He encouraged her. "Focus, sunshine, come on."

She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders before trying the conjuring again. This time she didn't seek to push the feelings that Geralt's proximity aroused in her. On the contrary, she used them. He was the only thing that mattered to her in that room, the only thing that existed besides her. He was her world, so why not concentrate on him? She let the warmth of his body envelop her, let the scent of leather and wet dirt that was characteristic of him assault her nostrils. She concentrated on the harmonious depth of his voice, letting the baritone sound travel through her ears and through her body.

She felt the spark once again, only it was much stronger this time. Her hand tingled and then she felt a rush of warmth shoot out of her. When she opened her eyes she found a layer of translucent white energy enveloping her and Geralt. It lasted only a few seconds because she broke her concentration, feeling incredibly proud of herself for successfully summoning the signal on her second attempt. It wasn't necessarily a big deal, but ever since she was a child she had grown accustomed to hearing that she was clumsy and useless and couldn't do anything right, so she had gotten into the habit of celebrating even her smallest accomplishments.

"I did it!" The princess exclaimed with a smile, throwing herself into Geralt's arms. Her embrace took him by surprise, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of her body for a moment, enjoying the floral scent of her hair as he tried to burn every detail of that moment into his memory.

"Give me a couple of training sessions and I could take your job." She joked, exaggerating her merit, and earning a small smile from Geralt.

The plan was simple. The princess would pose as a lost traveler looking for directions in the hopes that her apparent vulnerability would force the bruxa to come out of hiding. Geralt would be following her closely, hiding among the trees and bushes so as not to draw attention to himself. Once the fight broke out, she was under strict orders to run to Roach and take cover in a safe area where he had marked the Yrden sign on a tree. If they were lucky he would manage to draw the creature's attention to him long enough for her to escape. He doubted it would follow her after that, the bruxa seemed to be too clever to risk entering an area protected by Yrden just to catch a girl.

Even though the creature usually preferred to hunt men —probably because they were easier to trick—, it didn't take long for it to appear on the trail just where the villagers said it would. It happened in the blink of an eye, and without much sign of its presence other than the sound of branches and leaves rustling near them. The princess was on edge, hyper-aware of every little noise she heard and every movement her eyes could see in the dim moonlight. She jumped in place when she heard the sound of a branch snapping, and turned to look for the source of the sound. She scanned the darkness with her eyes as best she could, but found nothing suspicious, so she returned her gaze to the front.

That's when she saw her.

She was tall and slender, with skin that looked like porcelain. Her long black hair hid her face, though she could feel her intense gaze locked on her. She was standing in front of her, separated by just a couple of inches, and the princess had no idea where she had come from.

She struggled to keep her breathing at a normal level as she spoke explaining her situation to it, hoping it wouldn't be able to hear the rapid beating of her heart or detect the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The last thing she wanted was for the bruxa to discover the trap because of her poor acting skills.

"Oh, I'm sorry that happened to you." The creature said with faked empathy, taking the princess by the hand. She thought about pulling free from its grip, but decided against it at the last moment, thinking it would be too obvious. Geralt was close by and she trusted him completely. "The village is far, you are not going to get there by foot until tomorrow morning."

The bruxa was lying. Her favorite place to hunt wasn't that far from the village and while it might be annoying to walk the distance, it was probably a two hour walk at most. The princess wondered how many poor travelers would have fallen into that trap, believing her words without knowing that in reality salvation was much closer.

"You look tired." The bruxa affirmed and to the princess's surprise, she began to feel the weight on her eyelids and tired body. "I have a place nearby, you can spend the night there and tomorrow you can continue your travel. There's food and a warm bed for you to sleep in."

She was neither tired nor hungry, but the black-haired woman's words sounded tempting. She almost had to fight the urge to accept her proposal, even though she knew that nothing but death awaited her there. The creature was probably using its charms on her, enchanting her into agreeing to go with it without making a scene and attracting the attention of the villagers. She knew it and yet she couldn't resist. If it wasn't for Geralt appearing at that precise moment, she didn't know what would have become of her.

"Run!" was all the witcher said to her as he separated her from the bruxa. His eyes were completely black and his skin was much paler than usual. She had seen him fight before, but never while in his full witcher form. It caught her off guard but she managed to pull herself together quickly enough to get away from the area before the fight really started.

She heard the echoes of the bruxa's screams as she ran. They were deafening and she honestly couldn't believe how Geralt managed to endure them at such close proximity. She had to make the effort not to look back, knowing that if she saw what was happening she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to go over and help him. When she reached Roach she noticed the mare was upset, neighing and whinnying as if she could feel the tension in the air and the fear the princess felt.

"Shh, shh, it's fine! Everything is going to be okay." She tried to calm her down, stroking her soft fur as she watched the fight unfold a few feet away. "Geralt has it under control."

Every word of encouragement she blurted out for Roach, was a word of encouragement for her as well. She knew that Geralt was a very experienced witcher who had probably fought and killed many beasts equally or more dangerous than that bruxa even before she was born, but she couldn't help but worry for his life as she watched the battle. The creature was fast and precise with its attacks, using its scream to stun Geralt whenever it was at a disadvantage. He was able to hurt her a couple of times, but it was nothing lethal so he only managed to infuriate her. And even though she was bleeding even more than he was, that didn't make it any easier to see him get thrown into the air by the bruxa's deafening scream.

In the midst of the battle, the bruxa tried to flee. It changed its human form, transforming into something that the princess could only describe as a bat, only much larger and more horrifying. It spread its long wings and lifted off, escaping from Geralt's clutches just in time. But it didn't disappear for long, as a few seconds later it flew towards him once again, swooping down like a bird determined to catch its prey. Geralt braced himself for the attack and almost succeeded in striking it in the torso with the silver sword. But at the last moment the creature flew up, circled in the air and descended again on the witcher. Only this time it used its scream to launch him a couple of feet away.

Geralt's sword fell to the ground away from his hand at the same time as his head hit a rock. The princess held her breath as she watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes, unconsciously taking a few steps to get closer to him. He was moving, so at least she knew he wasn't dead, but he looked really dazed. The bruxa was flying high circling him like a crow, preparing to attack.

"Come on, Geralt, come on!" She muttered in the darkness, taking a couple more steps. Her eyes went from him to the bruxa, watching its movements, and back to him. He was beginning to regain his abilities, but unfortunately the bruxa had decided it was time to finish him off. Even though Geralt was getting back up, there was no way he could get to his sword in time, and she didn't see anything else he could use to defend himself. So she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She ran at him, breaking the one rule Geralt had imposed on her.

She knew it was stupid and risky, but the adrenaline in her veins and the fear of losing Geralt clouded her thinking. She ran to him ready to assist him because she refused to stand still a second longer, watching helplessly as that creature finished him off. It was reckless and dangerous as hell, but what else could she do when the man she loved was in mortal danger? She would never forgive herself if something happened to him that night because she did nothing to help him.

She couldn't lose him, not like this, not now that they were so close to starting to think about a future together. So she ran as fast as she could, reaching the center of the battle before the bruxa managed to get her claws on her beloved. She then cast an Aard signal, Geralt's words echoing in her mind as a wave of energy was expelled from her hand. She managed to knock the bruxa down a couple of feet away, probably because it wasn't expecting her to join the fight. However, the victory didn't last long as the creature got up and rose into the air, only this time she was its target.

She could hear Geralt's voice shouting her name in the distance, urging her to run for cover, but seeing the speed of the bruxa's flight she knew she wouldn't get very far if she tried to run. So she planted herself in place and cast the Quen signal, creating a protective field around her that she hoped would hold until Geralt could reach her. She struggled to maintain her concentration, pushing aside her fear of facing this beast. But even her best effort could not stand against the bruxa's powerful scream. The moment she opened her mouth, the young woman's shield shattered and she was thrown into the air.

She felt the way her body cut through the wind as she flew. The world around her became a blur as she moved at a speed unnatural for a human being. And then her body hit a tree and she fell to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her head that left her dazed and disoriented. She could hear Geralt's voice calling her name, but it sounded far away. She tried to get up, but her surroundings began to spin as soon as she moved. She felt a warm, sticky liquid coating her hair, but she didn't have the mental capacity to recognize that it was blood gushing from a wound on her head. She was too disoriented to recognize her own surroundings.

In the midst of the confusion, she was able to feel the bruxa's claws digging into her shoulders. As blurry as her vision was, she could make out the beast's face hanging over hers. She thought that this was going to be the end of her, that horrible image being the last thing she would see before she died. She thought of all the things she regretted, of all the experiences she had missed. And she thought of Geralt too. She thought about how much she loved him and how sorry she was that she hadn't been up front with him about how she felt. Maybe things could have been different if she had told him how much she loved him, but now it was too late.

The bruxa brought her face closer to her and the princess closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate. But instead of feeling her teeth clinging to his neck, she heard it let out a pained whimper. Suddenly, she stopped feeling the weight of its body on hers or the sharpness of its claws on her shoulders. And when she opened her eyes she was met with Geralt's face, who was kneeling beside her.

She felt the warmth of his hands on her cheeks and heard the distant, muffled sound of his voice calling her name and asking her to stay with him. She tried to answer him, but her dazed mind was unable to utter coherent words. She felt cold and tired, the urge to close her eyes growing stronger with each passing second.

"Geralt..." was all she was able to utter before everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again it was already morning, she could tell by the sunlight streaming through the window. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Her head was throbbing and her vision was still a little blurry, although she didn't know if it was because of the sleep or her injuries. She tried to move, but regretted it almost immediately when she felt the muscles in her body twitch in pain. She let out a hoarse grunt in protest and felt the sound of someone approaching her. It was then that she realized she was back in her room at the inn and that the man next to her was Geralt.

"You're back." he murmured, sitting down next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shit, but I'll live." she answered with honesty, making an effort to sit up in bed. Geral helped her, reminding her to take it easy as he arranged the pillow to help support her back more comfortably. "What happened exactly?"

"What do you remember?"

She took a moment to think. She remembered being thrown into the air by the bruxa's scream. She remembered the hard impact of her body against a tree trunk and falling to the cold damp ground of the forest, but it was all a blur after that. She knew she had been scared, that she thought she would die and that one of her last thoughts had been Geralt, but she was missing a few key points that would help her connect it all into a coherent line of events.

"I remember being thrown around and hitting a tree, but not much after that." she finally said, skipping the part where she vividly remembered thinking about how much she loved him.

"That's because you hit your head," he explained. "You were bleeding a lot. I barely got to you before you passed out."

There was a hint of sadness and concern in his voice that made her feel bad for taking such a risk. She could almost feel the despair he had felt at that moment just by looking into his eyes. It made her want to apologize, though she regretted it at the last second. Why would she apologize to him? For risking her life? It was her life, so his opinion shouldn't matter. For hurting herself? It wasn't as if she had done it on purpose. Besides, she wasn't sorry for what she had done. He was in trouble and she stepped in to help him. Even if she had ended up with more serious injuries —or even died— she wouldn't have cared as long as she knew he was okay because of it. His safety was always her top priority, whether it was when he arrived at her front door injured, or when they were in the middle of a battlefield. Her purpose in life was to be by his side to take care of him, so she couldn't let him die at the hands of that bruxa.

"Thank you." She spoke after a long silence. She decided to thank him instead of apologizing, it was more honest to what she really felt and not what she thought she had to say based on the expression on Geralt's face. "I'm guessing you are the one who saved me, so thank you for saving my life."

Geralt let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have had to. You were supposed to stay behind, out of harm's way."

His intention was not to scold her so quickly. She had barely regained consciousness and he was already complaining about her actions and lack of care. He had spent the entire night awake beside her, watching her sleep in the hopes of seeing her open her eyes again. He imagined that when she did, he would hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how terrified he had been of losing her and how happy he was to have her back. His intention was to take care of her and make her feel supported and loved. But for some reason seeing her in that weakened state had once again brought out in him that horrible terror he felt when he saw her approach the bruxa.

If the circumstances were different, or if she were someone else, he could probably tell her openly how proud he was of the way she had handled the situation. She had been able to cast the signs without any trouble and for her first time in a battle situation with such a creature, she had been very brave and had put up a good fight. In the future, with more training, he could come to see her as a good ally on the battlefield. The problem was that her life was too important to him to risk it that way. He was used to injuries and being tossed around by the monsters he fought. Hell, he had been created specifically to endure it! But she wasn't. She was a human, fragile and delicate, not made to withstand that kind of combat.

Geralt could not remember a time in his recent past when he had felt the fear that swept over him the moment he saw her challenge the bruxa. And when she fell to the ground after being thrown several feet into the air, he felt the world around him stop for a second, stomach dropping as he waited and prayed to the gods above that she wasn't dead. The pool of blood under her head, the way her eyes slowly closed after whispering his name, it had all been too much for him. Carrying her fainted and bloodied body in his arms back to the village not knowing if she would ever wake up again filled him with a terror he never wanted to feel again in his life.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her after getting no answer from her other than a guilty look, like that of a child caught by his parents doing something mischievous.

"You were in danger," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "She was going to hurt you."

"I had it under control!"

She let out a snort of disbelief. "It didn't look like it."

"It doesn't matter what it looked like, you were supposed to stay behind! You promised you were going to listen to me this time!" Geralt raised his voice, making the princess flinch. She hated it when people yelled, especially men. It brought back bad memories of the life she had left behind. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

"I wasn't thinking! Is that what you want to hear?" She raised the pitch of her voice to match his. "I saw you on the floor and that thing flying at you and I just acted. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay behind while the man I... care so much about got killed right in front of me." Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to blink to let them fall. She was determined not to show weakness at that moment, even though she was pretty sure Geralt could read the pain in her expression.

The witcher's cold yellow eyes softened slightly, recognizing in her the same terror he had felt. But the fact that he could understand what had been going through her head at that moment did not change the fact that her actions had been reckless and unacceptable. That was the problem with them, they cared so much about each other to the point that they would not hesitate to put their own lives at risk to save the other. If he didn't have the profession he had, maybe that wouldn't be an obstacle to their happiness. But the reality was that she could not be by his side, accompanying him in his life at all times, without being exposed to danger.

Being a witcher meant looking danger in the face, and while he found it sweet that she cared as much for his safety and well-being as he did for hers, traveling with her would only give her more opportunities to hurt herself in order to save him. Being with him put her at risk not only because of the potential dangers they might encounter along the way, but also because of the strength of the connection they shared. She loved him so much that she was willing to sacrifice her life to save his and if he agreed to take her with him on his travels he would be consciously putting her at risk. She was a stubborn and determined woman, so Geralt could be sure that her behavior would not change no matter how many times she told him otherwise. And he loved her too much to risk losing her.

"I don't think this is going to work." Geralt said, standing up from the bed. "This was a mistake, I never should have taken you with me."

Oh.

She hadn't expected those words. She imagined he would be upset with her for disobeying him. She even expected him not to speak to her for the time it would take him to process the situation. But she didn't think he would ever regret her presence there. She thought she had done enough to prove her worth. Sure, things hadn't gone quite right, but she had proven that her skills —magical and non-magical— were of use to him. Perhaps she needed some more training, but she was very good at dealing with people and her vulnerable appearance made her the perfect bait for traps like the one they had set for the bruxa. She didn't expect Geralt to throw all that aside just because of a stupid wound.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked him, trying hard not to let her voice crack as she spoke.

"It means I'm taking you back home as soon as you are ready to travel." Geralt announced in a firm voice before leaving the room with a slam of the door. And just like that, she was left alone, staring at the wood as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She did not speak on the way back any more than was strictly necessary. She did not smile or comment on the beauty of the scenery around her. She didn't chat with Roach in the mornings or stop to play with or heal any of the animals along the way. She didn't even take the time to smell the flowers or listen to the birds sing. It was as if she was a completely different person. It reminded Geralt of how she was when he first met her, quiet, shy and frightened, always scared to say the wrong thing. Her usual sweet and cheerful glow was absent and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

He recognized that he had not treated the situation with the care he should have, but he also knew he was doing the right thing. He should never have agreed to take her on one of his trips in the first place, so everything that had happened was his fault. He had been led astray by her charms, by the fantasy of believing that their lives were compatible. He wanted it to be true so badly that he had acted without thinking and as a result had hurt the woman he loved most. He had to fix his mistake and to do so he had to start by recognizing that his dreams were just that, dreams. A future together was not possible because he had not been made to settle down and start a family and she would always be in danger if she joined his travels. So, as much as it pained him, it was best for both of them to keep their lives separate and enjoy the fleeting moments of happiness they had when their paths crossed.

Her usual attitude returned to her when they arrived at her house and it was time to say goodbye. No matter how hurt she was, she couldn't bring herself to ignore Geralt knowing that this could be the last time she would see him for a long time. She gave him a hug that was tighter and lasted longer than it probably should have. But it was what they both needed, a moment to appreciate the comforting warmth of each other's bodies, to feel the spark of love they had for each other floating in the air after days of cold silence. They both needed to tell the other that everything they felt was still there in spite of everything. And both needed to recognize it in the other to know that all was not lost.

As they parted, the princess asked Geralt to be careful, just as she always did when she said her goodbyes to him. She then entered her home and sat in the chair near the door, starting the cycle of worry and uncertainty she found herself in whenever he was away from her home. Once again, her eyes were once again fixed on the dark wood, only this time her chest was heavy with the anguish of not knowing if she would ever see Geralt walk through that door again.

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x fem reader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #henry cavill x reader

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sgiandubh · 5 months

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Lights, camera, shit show

I was just cleaning my OL folders (all those Chinese paintings and scrolls do take a horrendous amount of space, heh) and I just stumbled upon something I completely forgot to share and discuss with you. I found this particular article during my solitaire lurking months and I remember being befuddled by it for a long time, then thought I've lost it for good.

I don't remember ever seeing it shared or discussed in here, either and if, by any slim chance, I am wrong, kindly forgive me. That professional website is now closed, but its content is still available to browse:

Anyway, there goes: https://www.studiodaily.com/2018/06/outlander-dp-stephen-mcnutt-asc-csc-saucy-scottish-show/

We discussed Terry Dresbach and her inebriated rants, Vanessa Woman's devastating impact on set as Intimacy Coordinator, RDM's jealousy and many other aspects of life on the OL set. Rumors likely to have originated there peppered our shipping trail like flickering lights in a sea of darkness. So yes, we dissected these things to death. But not Stephen McNutt's interview to Studio Daily, on June 22, 2018 - please keep in mind the date, it is essential!

Stephen McNutt is a well-established professional and a member of the American Society of Cinematographers (ASC) and the Canadian Society of Cinematographers (CSC), as he hails from British Columbia. He also has a consistent track record of previous work with RDM, both on Battlestar Galactica and Caprica (its prequel). Therefore, one has to immediately suppose he was handpicked and brought on set by the same RDM, of course: set a very low bar on your expectations, I am warning you.

By the grace of RDM, he was one of the main Directors of Photography for OL during Seasons Two and Three. IMDb is not the best source for corroborating things, because they credit him with 13 episodes in Season Two (including La Dame Blanche- he is the Blue Room guy!), but only one for Season Three (First Wife), which is completely wrong. I even had to check some opening credits on Netflix (at reduced speed, ugh), because he speaks at length of A. Malcolm, something that would have made little sense otherwise. He was there, of course: and his is a first-hand account, heavily loaded with both innuendo and TPTB bullshit, up to the point of complete incoherence.

We focus on the three final questions:

This is a study in bullshitology, right here. The question asked is very clear and very technical: how did you approach those famous love scenes?

The answer is a mumble jumble of retcon, deflections, slips and overall impossible scramble for a logical explanation. I am doing a line by line, because this is almost too good to be true:

'(...) But as far as Cat and Sammy making love (...)' : um, hello and excuse me, I thought the question was about Jamie and Claire?!? And then we are delusional and can't fucking separate, when your own henchman, the Director of Photography no less, seems to be totally unable to do so, too? Hello? Also: 'Sammy'? 'Sammy'? What. The. Total. Fuck, and I LOLed then and I am still LOLing now. Terms of endearment overheard on set - but no, here comes the 'friendship' shite, hitting the narrative fan with Mach 5 speed. Objective? Explaining in a plausible way the hugging and 'keeping warm'. And I am sorry, but this begs the question: what the hell did this man see on that set? And how many people did see the same, hence the need to release such a gratuitous lie, for pure retconning purposes?

'They are not an item at all - I think she just got married'. Oh, fuck my life, man: you are such a terrible, terrible liar! Remember, that interview was taken in June 2018: after the OZ EFH and just about when C. was gleefully answering 'oh, God forbid!' every time she was prompted by press about her marriage plans. How can somebody with a pretty high trophic level and personal rapport to both S and C be totally unaware about C's marital status at the time? How can a long time acquaintance and coworker of RDM say no both to a friend and to a current boss (same person, the worst case scenario) asking for a favor, in that particular context? It also goes to prove that the shit show plot mainlines never originated with S and C and that the Remarkable Week-end was already planned for quite some time. By TPTB. With the full knowledge of RDM.

Let's suppose Mr. McNutt was so deeply engrossed in his work as not to notice all the people who must have congratulated C on set. I mean, I know who our (spinster) colleague from Accounting is currently banging and that guy is (mercifully) not among our staff (I totally wish them well, btw). Maybe because nobody congratulated C on that fakegagement? Also, you know them well enough to confidently say 'they are not an item', but don't know she was not married at the time and state an enormity with the same confidence? What in the name of the hoo-ha did I just read, here?

'I was always in such amazement of that.' In amazement of exactly what, Mr. McNutt? Surely not a woman holding hands or keeping warm with her gay co-star on set, huh? I mean, I need the best American English dictionary, here:

Again: what the heck did this man see? What comments did he hear? Surely, 'amazement' is a very precise choice of wording, with particularly enlightening synonyms:

Hence the need to end the demonstration with a deflection: 'They would just have fun.' You know, there is no such thing as a virgin whore, Mr. McNutt: you either are in such astonishment or you think your pals, good old S and C, such a funny girl, were having, well... 'fun', what else? You can't logically have both in the same paragraph!

And there we go: 'a very collegial atmosphere on set'. The answer is pure fool's gold, if you ask me: 'Nobody goes to sit in a trailer or says they aren’t showing up that day. '

And I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed. I really don't know what this man is talking about. I never heard McTavish telling S to get out of that trailer ('nephew'). I never read the 'two very loved-up birdies' in a trailer a-rockin' Anons. I never watched that 2015 Anglophile SDCC interview, when S mentioned listening in their shared trailer to Erasure's Oh, l'Amour and C immediately reacted ('oh, did you just admit to that?'). But unlike me, McNutt must have been legally bound by a big cojones Non-Disclosure Agreement and morally bound by loyalty towards RDM, his friend, boss and benefactor.

This. All of the above. This is the real reason for all the bullshit you've just read: explaining a real, shocking love story by socially progressive regulations, allowing the cast to be 'much more happy'. I would laugh some more, if this was not sinister and cruel, in fact.

It is Love. A deep, strong one. But the seeds of the adverse narrative were planted early and deep, forcing even decent people like this guy to lie and smear himself a bit in the process. What we see and hear now are but better worded and more refined consequences of that fateful January 2016 morning in LA. And since I am allowed the dubious luxury only a healthy distance in time allows, let me remind you a simple, fun fact about this interview who stated they were never an item:

About ten months after McNutt uttered these words, the fandom was hit by the Covfefe Pics.

I rest my case.

#shitshow #fandom

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adalricus · 5 months

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Infatuated with you

Cw: yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking, gn reader , reader is an amateur model, mafia themes

Pt.2

You had just gotten into the modeling industry, it was hard and full of disappointed trying to get it big. But today was the you would make it big, you walked into your agencies build with such confidence ready for the day. "We're dropping you"..."what?" You answered your manager "You just don't fit the image of our image, and we need to make some cuts on our money and how we use it. Us using our money on you seems extremely futile." Your manager coldly replied. And just like that you sat at home wondering where you went wrong, no you couldn't give up just now you decided to take a chance and search modeling agencies on google, Facebook and Instagram. Hours later you were just about to give up when an agency caught your eye, they were looking for someone who had features just like you. Just your luck, you wouldn't waste your time so you contacted the agency to set up an interview, and send in your resume aswell as portfolio. Finally the day of your interview came, you had driven to the agency and stepped out your car headed for the front just to meet a man who had a very calm yet happy aura. "Hello there I'm Anthony I'll be escorting you to the interview room, and you (f/n) (l/n)?" You nod and with that Anthony grabbed your wrist and you both head to the interview room, "The interviewer will be here in a few moments is there anything you need?" "Uhm.. a cold water please. I'm sorry for asking but I'm just curious who are you exactly?" You replied and asked, "My name is Anthony Davidson, I'm the boss's personal assistant. I usually make sure things go smoothly when he's not around as he is away for business purposes. I'll make sure to get you that water in a moment." With that Anthony left, you sat and admired the rooms interior you noticed turquoise and grey colours with pops of gold. Something deep down in you told you something felt wrong yet you decided to ignore said feeling.Just then the interviewer came in "Sorry for the wait (Mr/Mrs/or what ever you're comfortable with) (f/n) (l/n).

My name is Lucille Roberts wonderful to meet you." She said shaking your hand before sitting down. "So I've read your resume and seen your portfolio and my, might I say I personally think you would be right for this agency." You smiled before thanking her. Lucille continued to ask question as time quickly passed "Well I believe you belong in this company so much infact I'm deciding to hire you on the spot." Lucille announced abruptly and taking a contract with a pen before handing it to you. You read the contract carefully and my, the pay and hours were impeccable almost to good to be true. You were about to sign it before you read "(f/n)(l/n) will work under such conditions provided that they install cameras in their house" How could you accept a job provided you do that! "A-actually on second thought, maybe I won't take the job.." The second you uttered those word Lucille almost snapped "I think it would be in your best interest to work as one of our models especially since we know where you and your family lives. Have nude photos of you on top of that we threatened every other job that would consider hiring you." "What! I'm gonna tell the police how did you get that information!" You demanded to know "The police won't do anything we have all the police stations in this area under our thumbs.. and who want to help someone who got involved with the syndicate?" ... "The syndicate as in the... mafia?" You began to trembled "Mmm-hmm sweetie! You catch on fast, we're willing to let you live a free life mostly, only under our set conditions. So my love don't be a bitch and sign the contract." Lucille demanded before pointing a gun to your head, you obeyed not wanting to get shot and signed. "Good (boy/girl/or whatever you're comfortable with). Now bye bye you start Monday, and if you don't start then say bye to your family." Lucille stated, you could barely stand up and you had to drag your feet out the doors. You got into your care and went home. When you finally sat in your room, you saw a message telling the installation guy would be there tomorrow afternoon at 13:00. You couldn't believe this was gonna be your life now. All you can do is endure it.

adalricus 2023 ©️ you may not steal, translate or post this anywhere but this platform.

#male yandere x you #female yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #tw yandere #soft yandere #yandere #platonic yandere #romantic yandere

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smilelikeawolf · 9 months

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Orym: "Tempest, there's one more thing I held back when we arrived. I wasn't sure what to make of it myself. It felt wrong to burden you and I'm sorry. A few of us... just in an attempt to understand the state the temples were in, we visited the temple of the Matron. And she visited us with a vision." Keyleth's face turns still as stone. Orym: "I've had more visions in the past year than I've had in my entire life. Gods come when they want. But we saw the excavation site again. We saw the Malleus Key, and some sort of red beam going from the ground all the way to Ruidus." Imogen: "It's true, I've seen it up close." Orym: "But in this vision, that man... that winged man that appeared that day... Ludinus has him in some sort of prison. And, um. We could hear him... in pain." Keyleth's eyes dart to the window. Orym notices what he thought was a small tree growing on the balcony is actually a perch. It is empty. Fearne: "You seemed upset when we talked of the Matron of Ravens. You don't seem to like her." Keyleth: "I have a tumultuous history with those that call themselves gods, yes. Tumultuous enough to keep them at arms length but still see their importance. They still serve their purpose to others. But they sometimes take in ways that don't feel fair." Laudna: "If she were gone, this Matron, what would happen to this man?" Keyleth: "I have no idea." Keyleth's mind races behind her eyes.

#*screeches*#orym #imogen temult #fearne calloway #laudna #keyleth #vax'ildan #vaxleth #matron of ravens #the raven queen #cr3 #critical role #cr spoilers

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sciderman · 2 months

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i feel like.. Every character in your universe, Peter, Wade, Cable, Johnny, MJ, Gwen, fuck even Harry. All of them are “Right People, Wrong Time”. No matter what everyone they meet is the right person at the right time, because all of them are evolving characters who get better and get worse. They are all the right people for their respective partner, but none of them are in the right place. They fall in love with eachother, but the person they fall in love with doesn't even know who they are. They fall for the version of someone who that person despises most about themselves. I don't know if you do it on purpose, but there's a nice analogy you portray using love and time.

oh, bless you anon. if there are two themes in ask-spiderpool, it's love and time. heck, this little number is first on the ask-spiderpool playlist.

youtube

peter and wade are kind of always hilariously Not on the Same Page, ever, actually - when it comes to the freaky timescale of love. it's a running gag, really, that peter just has the poorest timing imaginable. he's always, always running late. always last to get the memo.

he decides it's time to fall in love with wade the precise Moment wade is making the active choice to fall OUT of love with him

wade's mad about that

peter decides to spring all this talk of love just as wade's finally finding his own sense of self-worth without all those extra complications messing up his head and peter sticks a wrench in it

i think all of wade and peter's relationship issues really do come down to peter having poor timing. for springing things onto wade long before or after he's ready for them. if he was earlier, it would've been less heartache. if he'd waited longer, maybe it would've been built on sturdier ground.

peter does the right thing at the wrong time. all the time. and he's trying - he's actively trying so hard right now to manage his timing. to not push wade too fast. to be patient.

but also not be too slow.

peter just - can't find the middle ground. and it's driving him crazy. he knows he needs the time to be right. but he doesn't know when the time will be right. the time is never right.

it's kind of the joke now, that peter and wade are kind of bouncing back and forth in time because neither of them are ready. they will be, eventually.

but for now...

it's true - kind of all of their relationships are victim to this - it's funny, i think i've been victim to it a bunch of times in my life, too. where a person might've been the one - might've been everything, but you... you just didn't act in time. you didn't recognise it at the time. things just... didn't work out. schedules didn't align. one small little misstep in the universe. i always wonder about what kind of people could've become important in my life, if i'd done a few things differently. if i'd said the right thing, at the right time.

ultimately, i think everything happens for a reason. and when something's the right time, it is the right time. there's no hypothetical "right time" that you missed the alarm for. if it were the right time, it would've happened. but life's a game about trying your darndest to know when to act, and when to hang-fire. and, well - what happens happens. you win, you lose. but whatever's meant to happen - well, it'll happen.

#sci speaks #ask-spiderpool #meta

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cripple-culture-is · 11 months

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Sorry, but if you do not use a mobility aid, then you aren't physically disabled 🤷‍♀️ Only those with mobility aids can call themselves a cripple. I saw your main blog and that you are "physically disabled without mobility aids". That's not even possible. You can't be physically disabled and not require mobility aids.

And the fact that you believe you have the right to use the word cripple rubs me the wrong way. You have to look disabled in order to use that slur. Otherwise it's incredibly disrespectful.

If you can walk, you are not crippled. Crippled means to "cause (someone) to become unable to walk or move normally." If you can walk, you can move normally.

My first full on hate comment lol 🤣 I'm really moving up in the world.

But on a serious note, yes, you can be physically disabled and not require mobility aids. Physical disability isn't always stagnant. It isn't always as simple as someone who is paralyzed being a full time wheelchair user.

Since you used definitions, I'll use definitions. Physical disability is defined as "a limitation on a person's physical functioning, mobility, dexterity or stamina." Also, "any physical limitations or disabilities that inhibit the physical function of one or more limbs of a certain person."

I am physically disabled. I pretty much always have been. I have a mobility disability. I was diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis at 9 months old, an autoimmune disease. I did show symptoms at 4 months old at the latest though. Arthritis is actually the leading cause of disability and the most common disabling condition for U.S. adults.

I do not currently use mobility aids, no, but I am looking into getting a rollator for college. So I suppose that when I do get that aid, I will finally, in your eyes at least, be considered physically disabled.

However, I have reached a point in my life where I don't really care what people say about my disability. Whether you believe I'm physically disabled or not doesn't change the fact that I am physically disabled under U.S. law 🤣🤣

I got my permanent disability plates and placard when I was about 5 years old, though I probably could've gotten it before then.

I have always said that I have never used mobility aids. And while that's technically true, it's also not. I've never used traditional mobility aids regularly. I used a wheelchair in public once as a child, and I hated the pity looks adults would give me as I used to be more self-conscious.

However, I HAVE used untraditional mobility aids. While most people wouldn't consider them as such, I have used aids that have helped my mobility, mostly as a child, they just aren't stereotypical disability aids.

I was offered a wheelchair as a child, but due to the pity looks I got from adults, I turned it down. My parents worked around that hangup of mine by using things that I was confident enough to use for mobility as well as more acceptable to me.

My parents had bought this long stroller. When I got older, the typical strollers caused problems, in that I couldn't rest my legs on anything. So I had this stroller that had a leg rest that I could use to stretch my legs as keeping them bent for long periods of time physically hurts me.

I also sat in the baskets of shopping carts until I was in my mid-teens. My mother or father would put the cart with me in it and I'd sit in it as if I was merchandise just like everything else in the basket. This was all because I couldn't walk.

Though, what would happen when a stroller or shopping cart wasn't available? I would get a piggyback ride, mostly from my sister, though from my father as well. My mom did it only occasionally as she has joint issues just like I do.

Then, when I was a bit older, my parents bought me a red wagon. We would take it to amusement parks and carry some things in it. We'd use it for food and other stuff. But it's real purpose was to be there in case I got to a point where I couldn't walk anymore.

I have arthritis in every single joint in my body. From my jaw and neck, all the way to my toes. Hips, ribs, spine, you name it, I got it.

As for the use of the word 'cripple' it DOES apply to me. Cripple refers to anyone with a physical disability. And due to my disability, I do have lower body involvement. Hips, knees, ankles, toes, etc. All of it.

As for being able to "move normally", I actually don't completely. I appear like I do, but if you look at the structure of my legs and the way I walk, I do move differently than a lot of people. I find that I tend to limp often, even when I'm not in pain. And I am curious as to if that's because I got so used to limping as a child due to pain that my walking pattern just adopted that, leading me to limp when I'm not in pain. I also sometimes walk as if I'm waddling.

Plus, if you notice, my right knee is actually slightly turned in, which means that somehow, it's out of alignment. Knees are supposed to point forward. My dad's point forward, my sister's point forward, my mom's mostly point forward. Both of mine do not, even though both of my ankles are straight. My left one is pretty straight, straight enough for me to not really notice it. But my right is a separate story.

Because my right knee is pointed slightly inward, I tend to walk with my right foot slightly turned out.

I'm not sure if the alignment is a knee issue, a hip issue, or potentially an ankle issue. This wasn't an issue that was ever pointed out by my doctors as a child, cause my knees have been like this for a while. I did have a lot of knee inflammation as a kid.

But back fully on topic, cripple punk isn't contingent on the use of mobility aids. Plus the assumption that I have to "look disabled" in order to be physically disabled is very ableist and leads to those like me getting harassed when we use our handicapped parking permits. I'm invisibly physically disabled, I have always recognized that. But me having an invisible disability doesn't change the fact that I am physically disabled. And come this time next year, I will probably "look disabled". Not that I believe disability has a look. It doesn't. Believing disability has a look is ableist and perpetuates harmful stereotypes. I AM physically disabled. I AM crippled, mobility aid or no mobility aid.

You don't know my history, you don't know me. You don't know my day to day life.

In order for you to believe me, you'd likely have to see my diagnosis papers and the proof of my disability. But you are not entitled to that information. I don't have to show it to you, and I'm not going to.

#physical disability #cpunk #cripplepunk #cripple punk #crip punk #physically disabled #physical disabilities

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epicspheal · 4 months

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Pokemon Concierge

I have to say after watching Pokemon Concierge last night, it brought actual tears to my eyes. Happy tears it was such a good series probably now my favorite miniseries of Pokemon outranking even Twilight Wings and Hisuian Snow. It was such a wholesome and refreshing take on the series. Don't get me wrong I love the battling aspect but it's nice to see the life of everyday NPCs who aren't partaking in the league/contest circuit/rangers/island challenges. Like it's been hinted since gen 1 most of the world aren't really active trainers (and by that I mean getting the badges/ribbons and actively competing in leagues/contests) but rather just live and work alongside Pokemon. We just don't get to interact with that world of Pokemon since the games always put us in the role of someone aiming to be a champion/complete the Pokedex. So it's nice to see that aspect get focused and the worldbuilding around it because it's a lot. The idea of resorts for people and Pokemon to relax makes a lot of sense when you think of the world. Even though it's in many ways a lot better than the real world it still has it's stressors (as the series of event that led Haru to the Pokemon resort in the first place lay out). I could honestly really relate to Haru's anxiety having a long string of stressors that just lead you to needing some type of change in environment. One thing that really stuck out to me in the last episode was Haru mentioning "adults have a lot of freedom" and it made me think. Granted I've spent only 12 out of my nearly 30 years on this planet as an adult and oftentimes it doesn't feel like I'm very free but you know in the end I do have freedom. Not freedom from bills and taxes but I can more freely pick my path in life and how I want to achieve my goals compared to as a kid.

Not to mention the Pokemon themselves that we see throughout the episodes all having their struggles and it was exceedingly wholesome to see the Magikarp evolve and be able to swim, Psyduck learning to control it's psychic powers to reduce headaches and the Pikachu finding it's voice. It makes sense that living, sapient creatures like Pokemon It's a very realistic and mature portrayal that we don't really get to see all that much in the mainline games (Amphy, Koraidon/Miraidon and Arven's Mabostiff being a few notable exceptions and of course there are instances in the manga and anime as well) because at least for the player (the rideable Koraidon/Miraidon being the exception) it's kind of necessary for the purposes of the gameplay that their Pokemon aren't in need of true psychological or physical support (that being said I would love a side-game that was based on Pokemon Concierge or even a Pokemon Hospital). Pokemon Concierge is the type of extra media we need more of to expand on the world building and I'd love to see A) more episodes of Pokemon Concierge and B) more miniseries that dive into parts of the Pokemon world outside of the league.

#Pokemon concierge #pokemon worldbuilding #epic spheal reviews

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cherrycola27 · 9 months

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 3: Roses and Gold

"Minthe? What are you doing here?" You repeat as you take a seat at your breakfast bar.

"I came to see you, silly!" She sing-songs as she flits about your kitchen.

"What's wrong? What bad news have you brought me?" You huff, hoping to get straight to the point. "Why do you assume it's bad news? Can't I just come to check on you. It's been a while since you've been home and Hecate, and I are worried about you. Now, where do you keep your wine glasses?" She pivots.

It's always bad news

"Second cabinet to the left from the stove." You instruct her. She claps her hands before bringing down two of them and pouring both of you a glass. "I know that mortal stuff doesn't do it for you, so I brought a bottle of Dinoysus' special blend." Minthe chirps as she sets the glass down in front of you.

You thank her and take a long drink of the maroon liquid.

"So, spill, I want to hear all about this Rooster you're crushing on." She presses you.

You almost choke on your wine when she says his name. "Bradley is a coworker of mine. A colleague. A friend." You tell her.

"A friend—huh. So, I guess you were just being friendly when you saved him today." Minthe chuckles. You glare at her.

Just a friend

"Come on, Hay. I'm your best friend, you can tell me." Minthe takes a seat beside you and hits you with her pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, maybe I have a few feelings for him." You relent.

"Yes! I knew it!" She whoops.

"It's just—" you trial off. "It's just what? Hades you, more than anyone deserves to be happy, especially after what Persephone did to you." Minths grumbles.

"Minthe, I know you never liked her, but I'm the one who hurt here. You saw the burn marks yourself." You remind her.

"Yes, but I don't think Little Miss Spring is as innocent as she claims. She did something, I just know it." Minthe huffs out.

Minthe was nothing if not loyal. She'd been wary of Persephone since the first day she'd met her. Never fully trusting her. And after what happened between the two of you, Minthe was one of the few still in your corner. She and Hecate had been your support group, and they were currently watching over the Underworld in your absence.

"Minthe, do you really think Persephone had me burn her on purpose? Do you think she chose to be scarred for life? " You counter.

"I don't know. All I do know is you were so in love with her, and you had never lost control of your powers like that before, and you would never hurt someone you love." Minthe finishes before downing the rest of her drink.

"But, that's in the past. Tell me about Bradley." Minthe shifts the topic.

"He's kind, smart, and funny. He's genuinely a good person. He reminds me a lot of Persephone, in the best way. But at the same time, he's different. He doesn't shy away from the pain he's felt in life, he over comes it. He doesn't let his scars, mental or physical ones keep him from being his true self. Bradley is just—he's different." You sigh. It's been so long since you've let yourself feel like this.

"I think he sounds wonderful. Maybe he is your soulmate." Minthe takes your hands and squeezes them. The smile drops from your face and you pull away from her.

Soulmate, ugh, you hated that word

"Minth, he's not my soulmate." You tell her. "You know I don't even believe in those. Not after Seph." You sigh.

"Persephone isn't your soulmate. She wouldn't have said those things about you if she was." Minthe defends.

"Even if she wasn't, I've been wandering Earth for three thousand years. If I had a soulmate, surely I would have met them before now. 'Soulmate' is a stupid word made up by the Gods and mortals to give them hope that there is someone for everyone, when their really isn't." You almost shout at her. You sigh and take another drink. The wine warms you from within and calms you.

Good job, Hades, push away one of the only friends you have left

"Sorry. I just—" you shake your head.

"It's fine. You have strong feelings about it. You're allowed to have them." Minthe reassurances you.

There is a long pause. "Hades, I know you think that you don't deserve to be happy or have someone in your life who cares about you, but you do. If you like Bradley, you should pursue him." Minthe tells you.

"How would I even begin to explain to him what I am?" You ask her. "I don't know. But I'm sure you'd figure it out." Minthe offers.

"He's just so good. Too good for me. I'd never be able to live with myself if I hurt him. I mean, what if he saw my true form and it terrified him. I don't think I could live with him calling me a monster or being afraid of me." You sigh.

That would be a fate worse than death

"Hades, you can't let fear hold you back." Minthe takes your face in her hands and kisses your forehead before hugging you. You lean into the hug. It really is good to see her.

"Now for the bad news." Minthe says as she takes a step back.

Of course

"Ah ha! I knew it!" You proclaim as you jump up from your chair. "I knew you were coming with bad news. What is it this time? What's got Zeus' lightening bolts in a twist?" You ask her.

"It's not about Zeus or the other Olympians, Hades. It's about you." Minthe settles into a seat across from you with a serious look on her face. You sit back down. You've never seen her look like this. She almost looks afraid.

"You know how we have assumed that you were still immortal after being cast off of Olympus because you reincarnate every time you die?" Minthe began.

"Yes." You nod your head.

"Well—Hecate and I were visited by the Fates a few days ago, and they took us to the lifeline temple." She continues. "And the Fates showed us your lifelines."

"Lifelines? That's impossible. I only have one. Everyone only has one." You tell her.

"That's what we said. But apparently, when all the Gods were cast off, their lifeline split into thousands of pieces. Each time they died before completing their quest, a line would snap. But they would reincarnate because another line was there. When the Gods completed their worthiness quest, the lines fused back into one unbreakable line." Minthe tells you. The gears start turning in your head.

"And because I haven't completed my quest, I never got the unbreakable line of immortality. I've just been burning through the lifelines." You say.

"Exactly. And for the others, it wasn't an issue, but because you've been on Earth so long, you've used several of them. But that's not the bad news." Minthe cringes and takes a long drink of her wine.

"Well, what's the bad news?" You press her. She hesitates.

"You only have one lifeline left. Hades, if you die again, you become a permanent resident of the Underworld, and not as it's queen. Your death would be the end of the line for you with no chance of reincarnation." Minthe drops the news on you. You suck in a breath as the realization hits you.

You aren't immortal, like you thought. You'd been so careless for so long, and now you only had one life left.

"Okay. I guess I'll have to be careful then, won't I?" You say.

Careful, sure

"Extremely careful. Hades, the next time you're home, I want it to be because you're taking back your rightful place as queen. I know you said you were done trying to complete your quest, but you need to. Please." Minthe begs you.

You promise her that you will. She gives you a smile and hugs you once more before she leaves. After she's gone, the scent of mint still lingers.

"Well, you two, it looks like Mommy is going to have to tone it down." You say as you look at Cerberus and Hydra, who are curled up together on the ridiculous large pet bed you bought for them. Cerby cocks his head to the side, while Hydra holds eye contact with you. You throw your head back and laugh.

"Who are we kidding? We all know that I don't know how to tone it down." You shake your head laughing before going to grab them some food for the evening.

Maybe dying wouldn't be the worst fate

It might be freeing

You get Hydra squared away with her dinner before opening the pantry to get Cerberus his. That's when you see it. "Oh no, Cerby, it looks like you've got just enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. I'll have to head to the store across town to get you a refill tomorrow." You tell him after giving him a head scratch. Even though he didn't have three heads, Cerberus ate like he did. While your fur babies ate dinner, you decided on a quick bite yourself.

After all of you had your bellies full, you showered before tucking into bed. Hydra and Cerberus curled up at the foot of your bed and the three of you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up early for a quick run. Cerberus came with you while Hyrda preferred to stay home. After a quick shower and breakfast for the three of you, you opted to slip on a simple blue sundress and tie your hair in a ponytail. You weren't in the mood to match pants and a shirt today. You slipped your feet into some sandals, grabbed your keys and headed out.

You made a day of your pet food run, stopping to get your nails done and to pick up some groceries. You were missing home a little extra today, so you decided to pick up everything you needed to make moussaka for dinner when you got home.

When you arrived back at the parking garage for your apartment complex, you knew you didn't want to make two trips to bring everything in, so, using all your strength you gathered all of your groceries and pet food and headed to the elevator. Someone had just gotten on, and the doors were about to close when you shouted, "Hold the elevator, please!"

You had a hard time seeing over the giant bag of dog food, but you could just make out a hand holding the doors open. You dashed through the doors and let out a sigh of relief as you leaned the bag against the wall. "Thank you so much." You breathed out.

"No problem, Hades." You froze when you heard his familiar voice. You dropped the dog food and turned around slowly.

"Bradley? What are you doing here?" You asked him. He chuckled and leaned against the wall. You gave him the once over. He was in gym shorts and an old UVA shirt.

"I could as you the same thing." He fires back. "I live here." You tell him matter of factly.

He nods approvingly.

"So I ask you again. Why are you here?" You asked, praying that his answer wasn't along the lines of him visiting his significant other.

"I live here too." He shrugs.

"Wait—what?" You look at him with wide eyes.

"So we've lived in the same apartment complex for almost two months and didn't know?" You're shocked.

"Looks like it. I live in 1113." He tells you. "No shit? I live in 1013. You're my upstairs neighbor." You both laugh.

Oh, good grief

"What are the odds. Hey, do you need some help with that?" He gestures to your things. "If you don't mind, that would be great." You say just as the bell to your floor dings. Bradley picked up the massive bag of food and follows you down the hall.

"So you have a dog." He says as more of a statement than a question. "And a cat." You tell him.

You pause outside your apartment door and unlock it. You're just about to tell Bradley to set the food by the door, but he marches inside right past you.

"Careful!" You warn him, but it's too late, Cerberus is bounding towards Bradley. You're waiting for him to start barking, but instead, you hear the sweet sounds of Bradley talking to him.

"Oh, who's a good boy, you are. Is that your food? No wonder it's such a big bag because you're such a cute, big boy, aren't you!" Bradley scratches Cerby's ears and pats his head.

Never one to be left out, Hydra weaves through his legs and begins to purr. "Oh, aren't you a pretty thing!" Bradley praises her.

Obviously, your animals like him, why wouldn't they?

You drop your keys on the table and chuckle at the sight.

"What are their names?" Bradley asks you as he moves to sit on your couch, and they both join him.

"Cerberus and Hydra." You tell him.

"You're kidding? Your call sign is Hades, and you have a dog and a cat named Cerberus and Hydra?" He laughs.

"Well, if you didn't notice, Cerby, my Rottweiler is a tripod, and Hydra is a six-toed cat. So, they fit." You laugh as you start putting up groceries.

"How long have you had them?" Bradley asks you.

"About three years. I was in South Korea on a detachment. One night, we went into the city and stumbled upon an animal fighting ring. We called the cops and helped get the animals safe and relocated. Cerberus and Hydra wouldn't leave each other, and no one wanted to take both of them, so I did. It cost me a fortune to get them here, but it was worth it," you say.

"Wow, that's amazing." Bradley says. He thinks that he likes you even more now. You shake your head and roll your eyes as you unpack your groceries.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him. "I could always eat." He responds truthfully. "Well, I'm making dinner. Would you like to stay? It's the least I could do after you helped me." You tell him.

"I'd love to." He smiles as he takes a seat at your kitchen island.

You begin to flit around the kitchen, chopping, mixing, and sautéing. Bradley watches you with wrapped attention. You grab a bottle of wine and pour a glass for each of you. Even if you can't get a buzz from it, you enjoy letting the fruity notes dance across your taste buds.

"So what are you making? It smells amazing." Bradley asks you as you're layer the dish into a pan to bake.

"Moussaka." You tell him. "It's Greek comfort food."

"Greek?" He quirks an eyebrow at you. "Yeah, I'm Greek. First-generation American. My whole family is from Greece." You tell him. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. "Kolasi is Greek for inferno." You continue.

"That's amazing. Is that part of the reason why your call sign is Hades?" Bradley asks. "That and I used to have a pretty fiery temper back in day." You reply.

Bradley nods his head and takes a sip of his drink. "So your whole family is from Greece. That's pretty cool. Do your parents live around here, or are they back home? Do you have any family around here, or is it just you?" He continues trying to make conversation. You stand in front of the oven and freeze. He sees your shoulders tense up and knows that this is a touchy subject for you.

Your voice drops. It's barely above a whisper when you say, "I—I don't have any parents, and I don't have any family around here. It's just me."

"Oh." Bradley breathes out. There's a pregnant pause. "I get it. It's just me, too. I lost my dad at three, and my mom when I was nineteen." He tells you. You sigh. Bradley thinks you're an orphan like he is. Maybe that's for the best. Honestly, he isn't totally wrong. You stay with your back to him for a long moment.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to. You're just—an enigma, Hades. I feel like I only know you on a surface level. I want to know more about you. Especially if we are going to be working together." Bradley tells you.

No, you don't

"Well, there isn't much to know about me. I joined the Navy at eighteen, graduated at the top of my class in the academy, and in Top Gun. Thirteen confirmed kills, but I've never been in one squadron for too long." You sigh. "That's about it."

"If I wanted to know your Naval career, I could have read your file. Tell me something deep about you." Rooster prods.

"Deep? Hmm. I have a lot of tattoos. Does that count as deep?" You chuckle.

"I mean, it's not ocean deep, but it isn't as shallow as a puddle." You both laugh at Bradley's comment. "What tattos do you have?" He continues.

"I have the rose and dagger on my arm. Kardiá tis fotiás on my ribs. It means 'heart of fire' in Greek. I have a poppy behind my ear, and then I've got a thigh sleeve of every place I've been stationed." You explain to him. You decided to leave out the details about your last tattoo. You didn't need him asking questions about it.

"Is that deep?" You ask him as you take your moussaka out of the oven and grab a few plates.

"Yeah, and now I feel like mine is stupid." Bradley snorts. "You have ink?" Now it's your turn to quirk a brow at him.

"Yeah." He slides the sleeve of his UVA shirt up and flexes his bicep to show you the Roman numerals etched into his right arm.

You gingerly reach out and trace the black numbering. "Thirty-two?" You question him.

"My mom was into tarrot cards and fortune telling. Thirty-two is the number for strength. I got it for her after she passed. The last thing she told me before she died was that she loved me and to be strong for her." There's a thick tension between the two of you as his words settle around you. "I don't think that's stupid at all, Bradley. It's sweet." You smile at him as you rub a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks. I've shown you mine. Does that mean I get to see yours now?" And just like that, his somber tone is gone, and his happy personality it back.

"Rooster, are you trying to get me naked?" You joke with him.

"Only if you're offering." You smirks. You shake your head and shove a plate at him before you can do or say something stupid.

He digs in a groans when the food hits his tastebuds.

"This—this is one of the best things I've ever eaten." He tells you appreciatively.

"I'm glad, I think I do a pretty good job with it." You smile at him and revel in his praise as he scarfs down his first plate before sheepishly asking for seconds, which you happily give him. Gods know you cooked more than you could ever eat.

After both of you finish dinner and polish off the rest of the wine, you pack up some leftovers for Bradley. He insisted on helping you with the dishes, so the two of you found yourself side by side working on them. Well, if you were being honest, the two of you were goofing around and playing more than you were cleaning. You were blowing bubbles and splashing each other and giggling like children.

"I hope you know that you're not going to be able to get rid of me now." Bradley tells you. "What do you mean?" You ask him.

"I'm like the neighborhood stray. You've fed me twice. You're stuck with me now." He tells you with a goofy grin. You throw your head back laughing, and Bradley swears it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He loves the way your wide smile curls over your face and how your nose scrunches up and how the tips of your ears turn pink. You look so at ease.

He could get used to seeing you like this. Happy and carefree. It's a stark contrast to the rigid pilot he sees at work.

Soon, the two of you finish up, and you dry the last plate off before handing it to him to put in your cabinet. You turn to toss the dish towel on the counter, but slip on some soapy water the two of you had splashed on the floor and lose your footing. Bradley immediately reaches out for you and grabs your waist to steady you. Your hands attach to his biceps as you regain your balance.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and when your brain catches up with the rest of your body, you realize what an intimate position the two of you are in. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and his plush, pink lips are right there.

It would take hardly any effort on either of your parts to close the distance between the two of you. Your heart is screaming for you to do it, but before you can, Bradley clears his throat and drops his hands.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "I'm fine." You say in a deflated tone.

"Well, it's getting late, I should probably get going. Thanks again for dinner." He says as you walk him to you door.

"No problem. See you at work on Monday." You call as he walks into the hallway.

"See you Monday." He chimes back as you shut the door and lock it. You press your back again the cool wood and sink to the floor. Cerberus and Hydra both walk over and look at you with knowing eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, you two. It's not going to happen." You tell them.

"It's not going to happen." You repeat, this time as a reminder to yourself. You could let yourself be friends with Bradley. You could even let yourself have a crush on him. But you could never let yourself cross that line.

It's better that way

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