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melanieph321 · 5 months

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Ruben Dias x Reader - A House Is Not A Home Part 5/8

⚠️Warning ⚠️

- car s*x

18+

Ruben's wife dies during childbirth along with their son. Ruben hasn't been in a relationship since. Y/N is a single mother to a four year old boy. She buys a house in the small town that Ruben lives in. The house needs alot of fixing which Ruben helps with, resulting in him slowly falling in love with Y/N. However, falling in love with Y/N makes Ruben feel like he is betraying his dead wife.

Enjoy!

"There she is! I see her! Mommy, mommy!"

You were standing by the town square waiting for the bus. As it pulled up to the station your son, Johnny, spilled out and made a run towards you.

"My baby!"

He ambushed you with a hug and you gladly picked him up and twirled him around.

"Mommy, look what gammy got me."

Your son showed you a little toy car, not bigger than the size of his palm.

"That's for letting me yank out that old tooth of his." Your mother said, as her bad hip had her limping towards you.

"You lost a tooth?" You gasped.

Johnny nodded excitedly.

"Show me."

He displayed his little baby teeth and indeed one was missing.

"Isn't it to early for him to lose teeth?" You asked.

"How can you blame him." Your mother exclaimed. "The stress of moving across the country. He'll be toothless by the time he starts the first grade."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring your mother. She had always been very vocal about you buying a house so far away from home, in the country at that. You had been raised in the city and that's where your mother meant you belong. You suspected that she missed you, with your dad being gone. And now you were taking Johnny from her too.

"It's cold in here, no?"

Arriving at the house you put Johnny down and let him explore his new home. You and your mother started unpacking their things as she had agreed to stay with you for a few days.

"It's the heater. I think it's broken. " You immediately got up to sort out the fireplace.

"An open fire." Your mother scuffed.

"Mom don't start."

"Baby, you can't have a four year old running around where there is an open flame. It's dangerous."

"Well, I'm not gonna let him freeze."

"Don't you have someone who can come and take a look at the heater, it can't be impossible to fix?"

You had someone who could come over, but that someone wasn't speaking to you anymore. Two weeks had gone by since you last spoke to Ruben, the last time being when he kissed you. It was petty and childish of him not to want to sort things out as an adult and so you decided to let him be, to not hunt him down for answers or help anymore.

The following days involved a lot of administration work for you. For this you were grateful for your mother's presence, as she helped you get Johnny's insurance sorted, the house insurance sorted and help you enroll Johnny to a nice kindergarten. It was all going well and Johnny really seemed enjoy his new town.

"Look, horse!" He exclaimed, as the three of you had joined the locals at a street market that the town had put together. Many people were selling their own goods like crops and honey. One farmer was even letting the kids ride his horse around the block.

"Careful Johnny, don't get to close to it."

"It's okay mom. The horse is tied up."

The farmer let Johnny pet the horse and sit on it's back. Meanwhile you and your mother checked out the many market stands, one of them being Katarina's.

"Y/N!" She exclaimed at the sight of you. "I haven't seen you for ages, where have you been?"

"You know...fixing up the house."

"Really? Has Ruben been up there helping you?"

"Um...no, not really."

"No?" She frowned. "Then what has that man been up to theses days." She murmured. "He barley comes over either."

"Who's Ruben?" Your mother budged in, which was a good time for you to introduce her.

"Mom, meet Katarina. Katarina and her husband let me stay with them after the storm damaged my house."

"Of course." Your mother nodded. "Thank you for taking care of my baby."

"Mom." You were embarrassed.

"With pleasure, she's lovely." Katarina offered your mother her hand. They both smiled as they shook.

"Mommy, mommy!" At some point Johnny came running, tugging at your jeans. "I rode the horse mommy, did you see?"

You picked him up and wiped a dead eyelash from his cheek. "I did see you baby, you looked really cool."

"Gammy, did you see me. I looked cool."

"I did see honey." Your mother gladly unhanded Johnny from you, giving his face a round of wet kisses. As Johnny squirmed in anguish you noticed Katarina and the peculiar expression that had come across her face.

"This is my son, Johnny." You realized that you hadn't told her about him, you hadn't told anyone about him.

"You have a son?" She smiled, although her smile was stiff and a bit sorrowful.

"Yes. He just turned four. He has been living with my mother up until now..... because of the house."

"Of course." Said Katarina. "May I ask, does Ruben know about him?"

"Who, my son?"

"Yes, dear."

Well he knew of Johnny, you thought. Little did he know...."Yes, yes he does." You lied.

Katarina nodded her head but remained silent. Suddenly she perked up. "Tell you what, why won't you and your family come over for dinner tonight? David is hosting a small gathering to celebrate the years harvest."

"We accept the invitation." Your mother said, beating you to it.

"Wonderful. I'll see you at our house at six, there'll be a BBQ so come on an empty stomach.

"Thank you Katarina."

Back at the house you weren't sure if you wanted to attend this gathering.

"Why not?" You mother protested, surley she was up to it for the free BBQ, the fact that she wouldn't have to cook for once.

"I don't know mom." You weren't really in the mood.

"Does any of this have to do with that man the lady mentioned, Ruben?"

You were astonished how alert your mother were at picking up on things.

"She said he used to come over and help you with the house and now he's not coming over anymore, no?"

You shook your head. "No."

"My sweet child."

"Well you've made things difficult for yourself indeed. But you'll get a chance to tell him the truth, I'm sure he'll understand."

"He's just a friend mom, really." You assured. "He was the previous owner of this house and I think I made a mistake not to tell him about buying the house in grandad's name. Ruben thinks Johnny's is my husband."

"You think so?"

"Yes, now let's get ready for that BBQ."

Okay, you were a little excited for the BBQ. You loved spending time with your friends and leaving the city left you without no social life whatsoever. You needed stability and Johnny needed a proper introduction to the locals. But as you walked through the gate to Katarina and David's backyard, something caught your eye. A familiar face stood by the grill, flipping burgers with ease. It was Ruben.

"Well I'll be damned." David removed his cap at the sight of them.

"Y/N!" Someone exclaimed, making heads turn your way, including Ruben's. Katarina had been coming down the steps to the back porch when she spotted you. "David, come! I'd like for you to meet Y/N's family." She waved for her husband to get up off his seat. The two of then came towards you in a way that felt like you were getting attcked. Behind you you could hear your mother coming through the gates, little Johnny in her arms.

"David honey, this is Y/N's mother...".

"Tanya." Your mother smiled.

"Nice to meet you Tanya, I'm David."

"And guess who this is..." Katarina was eager to unhand Johnny from your mother, taking him into her own embrace. She was good with children, you could tell immediately.

"Well who's this little guy?" David said, poking out a finger to tickle Johnny's belly. His laughter echoed throughout the backyard.

"This is Johnny honey. Y/N's son."

A light lit up David's eyes. "Well, how old are you son?"

Johnny was a bit shy but managed show his age with his fingers.

"Now I bet you couldn't guess how old I am?"

Johnny bit his lip, but decided to show off all of his five fingers.

"Five!" David laughed. "That's right son, I'm five years old." David laughed so hard that he struggled to breath.

"Oh honey don't be such a fool." Katarina sighed. "Please take Tanya inside and help her fix herself a plate."

"With pleasure." He said, escorting your mother inside.

"I better check if anything needs a refill. She said, handing Johnny back to you. "Please help yourself to a drink."

As Katarina rushed inside she passed by Ruben who looked to be coming your way. The two exchange a few words, resulting in Ruben really coming your way.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Johnny hid his face in the crook of your neck. The giant shadow that Ruben casted upon you had frightened him a little.

"It's okay baby, it's just Ruben."

"How have you been?" He asked, mostly out of courtesy. Perhaps Katarina had made him come over and talk to you.

"Fine, I guess."

"Kat tells me your family is visiting."

"Yes, my mother is here."

"And who is this guy?" He smiled. Johnny had dared come out of his hiding place.

"This is Johnny Jr, my son."

Ruben looked taken aback but quickly composed himself. "Oh, so he's named after his father?" His gaze trailed somwere over your shoulder as if someone was about to walk through the backyard gates.

"No. He's named after his grandfather actually."

"I..." Ruben looked confused, struggling to put two and two together.

"I've been meaning to tell you." You said, rocking your body back and forth as Johnny was becoming heavy to carry.

"Tell me what?" Ruben asked.

"About Johnny, my grandad."

"Your grandfather's name is Johnny?" He frowned.

"And my son." You nodded.

"And your husband..."

You shook your head. "No. It's just me and him, me and Johnny."

Ruben was about to open his mouth and say somthing when Katarina was seen re-entering the backyard.

"We're out of potatosallad! Ruben I'm going to need you to run to the shop and buy me some more potatoes."

"Um...sure."

"Y/N, you go with him."

"W..what why?"

"Because we're out of juice. There's nothing else for Johnny to drink but water. You go with Ruben and help him pick out your son's favorite juice."

"Um...okay."

"Here, I'll take Johnny, let him take a nap inside."

"What are you..."

He had been drifting off in your arms without you noticing. As the two of them disappeared inside you had no other choice but to go with Ruben. You expected a quiet and awkward ride in his truck, but to your suprise the car ride didn't last two blocks.

Ruben made a sharp turn, parking his truck near a deserted grove.

"Ruben?" You asked expectantly, a bit shook form the bumpy ride.

"No." You sighed. "I'm not married. Johnny's father.... It's a complicated story."

"So you're not married?"

Ruben turned in his seat to look at you. He was picking up where you left off.

Ruben was looking at you with big eyes, almost demanding you to go on.

Your eyes diverged from his face to your hands. "I was a young nurse volontueering in a community in Colombia." You said, not so fond about bringing up memories of your past. "As political rebels started infiltrate the small town, the government put military forces in to stop them. It's how I met Johnny's father, he was patrolling near the hospital where I worked. One thing led to another and Johnny was born."

You looked up to see Ruben take in your words but the dent between his eyebrows told you that things weren't all clear for him.

"All you need to know..." You sighed. "...is that he's not involved. Like not at all. I don't even know where he is." You shrugged. He could be stationed in another town in Colombia, or he could've been killed by rebels a long time ago. You wouldn't know. "It's just me taking care of Johnny, it's aways been like that. Of course my grandparents were there for me during my pregnancy. Gosh, how I wished my grandad was here to see Johnny grow up." You trailed off, the past memories making you realize how much you've had to overcome. Ruben sat silent next to you. Until he wasn't.

"So when I kissed you..." He said, words uttured cautiously.

"Yes?"

You chuckled. "No Ruben, I didn't mind. I actually..."

"...you didn't mind?" He asked.

It was all he needed to hear. Ruben leaned over and did it again, placing a soft peck on your lips. As you parted you opened your eyes, only to find Ruben smiling at you.

"That was..."

"Y/N, I thought I...."

"Sshhh." You sushed him, his scruffy beard tickling the palm of your hand. "Just kiss me again."

You uncovered your hand from his mouth. Ruben scooted closer, unbuckling his seat belt. The two of you were making out within seconds of your lips colliding. Soft moans filled the narrow space in the car, with Ruben having you lay down in the passenger seat.

"Y/N, you must know....it's been awhile."

You could tell by how eager he was, his hands finding their way underneath your shirt and bra, groping your breasts, pinching your nipples.

"It's okay Ruben, I'm on birth control."

His breath was in your ear, running warm. You could tell how turned on he was by the way his erection pressed against your stomach. He was tugging at the bud of your zipper, pulling it down as to slip a hand down your pants.

You gasped.

"Fuck." He grunted, his fingertips feeling how swollen and wet you were for him.

"Ruben." You cried. For someone who hadn't been intimate for a while he sure knew how to tease you.

"Please." You begged.

He sat back to pull your jeans down your legs. Once they were off he got on top of you again, one hand unbeckling his belt. He pushed your panties aside and let his tip spread your folds. Once his cock was aligned with your entrance he eased into you with a satisfied groan.

"Fuck Y/N, you feel so good."

"Fuck, I'm sorry." He said, sitting up, regaining his composure.

Your walls clenched around him, not yet adjusted to his size. You arched your back as Ruben began thrusting his hips, bringing himself in and out of you in waves. The truck rocked with his movment and anyone passing by would know what was going on inside of it, but in that moment neither of you could care less.

Ruben came before you, his body collapsing on top of you. You lay like that for a minute, just holding onto each other, letting your breaths come down from the high.

"It's okay." You reaching for your pants. "We better get back before Katarina wonders where we've gone."

Ruben chuckled. "I think she already knows.

"What makes you think that?" You said, adjusting your hair in the trucks rareview mirror.

"Because... David and I helped Kat buy about ten kilos of potatoes the other day. There is no way one BBQ made her run out."

Ruben was right about the potatosallad. As you returned from the shop with Johnny's juice, everyone with a plate of food also had a side of potatosallad on it.

"Back from the shop I see." Katarina said, grinning from ear to ear. She, your mother and Johnny were seated together. "How did it go?"

"Wow, you're really strong!" Johnny exclaimed, looking up at Ruben with admiration.

"Great." Ruben smiled, he looked to you, a twinkle in his eye. He then looked down at the table, to Johnny, who was going off with his crayons. As a shadow was casted Johnny looked up from his coloring book, his big brown eyes wide with curiosity. "Hi!" he said, waving shyly at Ruben.

Ruben, who had been taken aback by the sudden introduction, forced a smile onto his face. "Hey there little guy! It's nice to meet you." Ruben tried to sound calm and confident. But as soon as he saw Johnny's tiny hand wrapped around his own large one, all of his doubts melted away.

Ruben laughed and ruffled Johnny's hair. "Well, I like to think so," he said. "But you know what? You're pretty strong too."

You were standing to the side, feeling your heart swell at the two of the interacting. The night would go on with Johnny never wanting to leave Ruben's side and with Ruben never letting him do so. Just like Katarina, he was a natural with kids, you could tell immediately.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

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nyrasproblm · 3 months

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Pure Cruelty

Chapter Six

Joel Miller x Platonic!OC, Ellie Williams x Platonic!OC (sister)

Word Count: 3,4K

Warning: swearing, imprisonment, food deprivation, violence, non-suicidal self-mutilation, vomiting, exchange of gunfire, detailed description of injuries, hallucinations.

As promised, Lyla took Ellie back in the morning, despite the youngest's protests. Luckily Joel wasn't there and they didn't need to talk to each other.

When she went back to the stables she frowned when she saw another girl there, younger than her. After introducing themselves, the girl informed her that Maria wanted to talk to Lyla, so she walked back, sighing, and knocked on Maria's door, which she quickly opened.

"Hey, come in." she said and made room for Lyla to pass.

"Is everything okay?" Lyla asked.

Maria closed the door and walked past her, indicating for her to sit on the sofa in the living room.

"I'm going to need to change you role." she said.

"Your hobby is changing my role, right?" she joked, but saw Maria remain serious so she swallowed. "What's going on?"

"Invaders. There are many invaders, they are looting any place they can find, besides, I had reports that they took over an abandoned building to the east, it's a matter of time before they get here." Maria said looking at her.

"If they have a building why are they invaders? What strange people." Lyla muttered.

"Lyla, I'm serious."

"I know I know. You said you're going to change my role, what am I going to do now?"

"Patrol." Maria said simply.

Lyla felt her stomach drop a little, it had been a while since she had to kill someone, or something. She had arrived in Jackson about three months ago, she hadn't left the city gates since. She looked at Maria.

"I never patrolled, there are better people to do that-"

"Trust me, everyone capable of patrolling is already preparing to leave.”

Lyla stared at the ground for a few moments.

"I didn't want to have to do this, you're one of the youngest people I'm going to send out on patrol, it makes my heart sink." she sat down next to Lyla and held her hand. "But it's necessary."

"When do I have to go?" she asked.

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

The next day she was mounted on top of a horse in front of the gates of Jackson. Her patrol partner was the guy from the exchange store, Tom. He was like 5 years older than her, or something like that.

Maria explained that although they thought the invaders were to the east, it was not certain. Then four more pairs of patrolmen were heading in different directions to investigate. Lyla looked around but didn't see Joel in any of them.

She thought about saying goodbye to Ellie, but she didn't want to worry her, so she put the idea aside. It would only be a few hours, maybe a day, then she would be back soon.

They soon left, each pair going in a different direction, as Lyla was very lucky, Maria chose her and Tom to go east, to find out if there was indeed a building occupied by invaders there.

They trotted without much haste, if they rode the horses they would make noise and alert whoever was nearby.

Tom started to start a conversation and Lyla thought he was a nice guy, they talked about the food in the cafeteria, the currency exchange store and the bookstore.

"So she took your book without permission and in the middle of the fight you tore it up? My god." he said after Lyla told him about the last fight with Ellie.

"Yes." she laughed. "But the book has already been fixed and we've already made up."

"Well, that's good. The last book I read-"

Tom didn't have time to finish speaking because a loud noise near them caused the horse to startle and stand up on its hind legs, causing it to lose its balance and fall. Lyla was about to get off her own horse to help him but stopped when she heard the click of a gun near them. Her eyes widened and before she could pull out her own gun a voice sounded close to them.

"Don't even think about it, bitch." a man came out from behind one of the trees. "Get off your horse and don't try anything, come on."

Lyla slowly got off the horse and looked at Tom still on the ground, he looked like he had hit his head and was unconscious.

"Put all your weapons on the ground." a second voice ordered and Lyla saw that there were three of them around her.

Lyla took off the shotgun hanging from her shoulder and placed it on the ground, she did the same with the pistol that was on her waist and the knife that was in her sock, finally, she raised her hands in the air.

"Come on, let's go." one of the men approached her and began to pull her by the elbow tightly, the other two remained further behind, one of them put Tom back on top of the horse and began to drive, the other led the horse back. Lyla, always pointing the gun at her.

They walked for a few minutes, with the man still holding her elbow tightly, until she saw it: the abandoned building, practically falling apart. It looked occupied, you could see some people moving around through the falling walls.

They entered the building and Lyla tried to turn around to see where the other men were taking Tom and the horses, as they had strayed from the path, but the man who was holding her just squeezed her arm tighter, making her turn forward again.

They entered the building and she could see that there were at least 50 people there, how could there be so many people and none of them had a thinking brain? Her thought was interrupted when she was pushed forward forcefully, stumbling. She looked ahead and saw an elderly man, as well as younger men and two women, they were all looking at her with contempt.

"I found her in the forest, she was with a guy, both on horses and armed. They must come from that commune." the man who was previously holding her said.

Of course they knew about Jackson, she wasn't surprised.

"What's your name, dear?" the elderly man asked.

Lyla just stared at him, silent.

"He asked a question, you bitch." the man holding her hit her with the gun, making her bend over a little.

"That's not necessary." the older man raised his hand, then looked at her. "Come on, dear, what's your name?"

"Fuck you." she replied and the old man's face twisted in anger.

"Take her away. The guy who was with her, where is he? I want to see him too."

"They're already bringing him in."

After that, the man grabbed Lyla by the elbow again and started pushing her. They entered a dimly lit hallway and he pushed Lyla into a room with a metal sliding door, it looked like a bathroom considering the tiles on the floor, but it was very old and dirty. There was a bathtub full of dirty water on one of the walls.

"Take off your shoes." he ordered, pointing the gun at her.

She obeyed and took off both shoes.

He pushed her to the ground and grabbed a chain that was attached to a pipe and tied it around her left ankle.

Lyla became desperate and opened her eyes wide, seeing the man sliding the door and hearing him lock it from the outside. She looked at her left ankle, seeing it with the thick metal ring, she tried to remove it, but it was too tight and didn't go through the bones of her foot.

She sat on the floor, looking around, seeing some things thrown on the floor. After about half an hour, the sliding door was opened and Tom was thrown in and his ankle was chained too.

"Tom, are you okay?" she asked after the door was closed and they were left alone.

"My head hurts, are you okay?” he asked as he ran a hand over the back of his head.

"Yes, as far as possible." she replied, her face contorted in sadness. "I think you'd better lie down, the floor is dirty but it will be worse if you sit there with your head hurting like that."

He just nodded and lay down on the floor. They remained silent, listening to the footsteps of people outside the room.

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Lyla sighed, a few hours passed and they were still the same, Tom lying on the floor and both of them in silence. Almost a whole day had passed, and it was dawning again. She looked around again to see if there was anything she could use.

She saw a dirty bucket, some rocks and a rectangular white thing thrown on a wall near her, she tried to reach out to pick it up but she couldn't reach it.

"Fuck." she sighed tiredly.

Before he could try again, the sliding door was opened with a bang and a man came in. He pulled Tom to sit down and then unlocked the chain that held Tom's ankle.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Lyla spoke up as he started to push Tom out of the room, but was ignored and the door was locked again.

She snorted but tried again to do the same thing as before, reaching for the white piece of ceramic on the floor, but she couldn't. Then she remembered the boot. She took off her shoes but none of the intruders took them away.

She took one of the shoes and started to take off the laces, then she put them through the holes again but in a U shape, then holding the laces she threw the shoe towards the ceramic piece, then pulled and the object moved. a little. She smiled when she saw that her idea was working and continued pulling the object towards her.

She was just about to catch it when she heard the sound of the door being unlocked and threw the shoe away, so that it couldn't be seen, and turned the other way, hiding it.

The door opened and she gasped in horror. Two men were carrying Tom, whose face was almost completely disfigured, bleeding and with swollen stitches.

"Hey, doll, say goodbye to your friend." one of the men said and took Tom's hand, making him say goodbye.

"Tom!" she tried to get up and reach him, but was stopped by the ankle chain. "Release him!"

The men just let out a dismissive hum and led Tom out, closing the door again.

They were going to kill him.

They were going to kill him, my god.

Lyla put her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. She only realized she was crying when she felt tears dripping onto her lap.

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

Tom was pushed outside the building, where the elderly man was waiting for him again.

"Go, and tell them of our mercy." he said.

Tom was pushed and began to stumble, until he was out of sight into the forest. He walked slowly and sometimes fell, the injuries on his body hurt so much, he was beaten by two different guys.

He continued walking even with the pain in his body, he needed to go back to Jackson and inform them of all this, he needed to let them know that Lyla was still there, alone.

He tried to increase his walking pace to get there faster, even though his entire body hurt. After about three hours, he saw Jackson and sighed in relief.

He walked to the gates with his hands in the air, seeing the inhabitants keeping watch on small makeshift platforms to see over the gates.

"Don't shoot, I'm from Jackson, don't shoot." he said in a tired voice.

"Tom?" one of them spoke and his eyes widened. "Open the gates! He's one of the patrollers."

The gates were opened and he passed through them, seeing some people approaching to look at the scene. His knees were almost giving out when he was held by someone, he looked up and saw Tommy staring at him with a confused and worried expression.

"Invaders... invaders in the east. The building, Lyla is there." Tom managed to say before his eyes closed and he passed out.

Tommy's eyes widened and he looked at Joel, who also approached the gates when he saw the movement.

"Everyone go back to doing your chores! Let's go." he said and looked at some other people. "Take him to the clinic." he lifted Tom a little and two men came out carrying him.

He turned to talk to Joel but he was already gone, he took a deep breath and headed towards Joel's house. When he got there, he saw Ellie looking confused at Joel who was stuffing things into a backpack and already had a shotgun hanging on his shoulders.

"Joel, stop." he approached but Joel didn't listen to him. "Joel, stop!"

Joel turned and faced him.

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Let's talk to Maria first-"

"Did you hear what he said?" Joel asked, raising his voice. "Lyla is there, alone. I won't wait for anything."

Ellie's eyes widened a little when she heard what Joel said.

"Where is Lyla?" she asked but neither of them looked at her.

"I'll go with you, let me get my things and call some things, it's quick." Tommy said and saw Joel shake his head.

"We don't have time, Tommy. Did you see what they did to Tom? What do you think they can do with her?"

Tommy just turned and walked out the door hurriedly.

"Where's Lyla?" Ellie asked fidgeted and Joel finally looked at her.

"I'm coming to get her."

He walked out the door in time to see Tommy and two other people heading towards the stables, he also went towards her and ignored anything Tommy was going to say.

"Let's go." he said and heard the others mounting their horses behind him.

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

Lyla was desperate. She was hungry and thirsty. Her stomach hurts and her lips are dry.

No one has come back since the last time they came, to show Tom. He must be dead now.

She sat down and started thinking about what she should do, then she heard a crash outside, followed by shouting and arguing. The invaders appeared to be arguing among themselves.

She should take advantage of this situation, so she looked at the ceramic object, which she had discovered was a toilet flush lid, it was broken at one end but still had a rectangular shape. But she didn't know what to do with it.

It was then that she saw it. Almost hidden behind the pipe her chain was attached to. A saw bow. It was rusty.

She approached the wall and picked it up, looking closely. A quick thought running through her mind, she looked at her trapped foot and directed the saw at it, but quickly gave up, she wouldn't have the courage.

Then she had another idea, she took the saw again and started trying to saw the chain, in desperation she tried and tried, but the saw didn't even have any effect: the chain remained intact.

She sighed and her eyes filled with tears. She remembered her mother, she wanted her mother now. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, this wasn't the time to have a crisis.

Then she looked at the piece of pottery. Then she looked at her trapped foot. She picked up the object and held it tightly.

She took a deep breath and lifted the object into the air and directed it towards her foot, then she squeezed her eyes tightly and gave a strong blow, feeling the sharp pain immediately hit her, but she couldn't stop. She gave a few more blows, more than five. Then he threw the bloody object on the floor and only then allowed himself to scream a little.

She then held the injured foot and took another deep breath, and with force she broke the bone near the heel.

She threw herself back, crying. The pain made her want to be held by her mother again.

She stood up again and passed her broken foot through the ring holding it to the chain, wincing in pain. She tried to get up but fell.

She couldn't stand on her left leg, her foot was just a squishy thing now, bleeding. She got up again and jumped up and down, immediately regretting it because with each jump her broken foot wobbled and hurt.

She was going to sit down to rest, but then she remembered. When they took Tom away she didn't hear the click of the latch outside. The door was closed, but not locked.

She crawled to the door and leaned against the wall, then slowly slid it open, seeing that it really wasn't locked.

She opened the door completely and bent down again, crawling again, feeling pain from her broken foot touching the floor. She stepped out of the narrow hallway and saw the chaos happening: the invaders attacking each other, shooting each other, slitting each other's throats.

She got up and started walking, aiming to get outside. She seemed invisible, none of them seemed to notice her presence there.

She stopped walking when a dead man fell in front of her. She bent down and picked up the pistol that used to be his, before starting to walk again.

She managed to get outside without anyone stopping her, when she got outside she thought about putting down the pistol, but decided not to, she might need it.

She continued limping and leaning on the trees until she finally entered the forest. The pain in her broken foot was unbearable, she fell to the ground and lay there, looking at the sky.

She couldn't think straight because of the pain, she looked to the side when she felt a presence near her, then she held her breath.

"Mom?"

She sat down and started to crawl to try to reach it, but the figure just moved away.

"Mom?" she called again, now crying.

The figure disappeared and Lyla saw that she was alone. The pain in her foot was making her see things.

She managed to drag herself until she was far enough away from the old building that she could no longer hear the screams of the invaders inside, then fell back to the ground.

She couldn't take it anymore, she didn't know where she was, the pistol was no longer in her hands, the pain in her foot made her feel sick and had a headache.

She tried to sit up when she felt the vomit coming, but she couldn't, so she just turned sideways on the floor and vomited. She couldn't move anymore, so everything went dark.

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

Joel saw the building from afar and got off his horse, tied it to a tree, watching Tommy and the others do the same.

He took a few steps forward, with the gun pointed, when he saw something on the ground. Someone, actually. He approached slowly, gun pointed, so when he got close enough, he felt his chest tighten.

Lyla.

Thrown on the ground, unconscious.

He got closer and took another look, seeing the left foot completely bloody, it looked broken. He also saw the pool of vomit next to her head.

He heard Tommy stifle a choked sigh behind him. He slung the shotgun back over her shoulders and crouched down, holding her face with one hand while the other went for her neck. The heartbeat was constant. He sighed in relief.

"She's alive." he said and saw Tommy let out a breath and nod.

Tommy turned around and started talking to the others, motioning for them to keep walking to check out the building.

Joel felt his vision go blurry as he placed her head on his left arm. Her mouth was covered in vomit, her hands were covered in blood.

"Let's check the building, can you get back to Jackson alone?" Tommy asked.

"Help me put her on the horse and I'll take care of the rest." he replied without looking at his brother.

He lifted her off the ground carefully and handed it to Tommy.

"Watch her foot." he said before turning to untie the horse.

He got on the horse and made a shell with his right arm to support Lyla's body, he would need to get to Jackson quickly, she was barefoot and had a serious injury.

He didn't wait for Tommy to say goodbye, he turned the horse and began to trot towards Jackson.

#original character #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #tlou

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months

Text

Florence Ins't Here

Media IRL X Victorian Style Horror Movie

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Spooky

Far from the last sprawls of civilization sat a house, lofty and lavish having stood for years, a garden just as aged and unique. Ocean View Manor;

The house had seven bedrooms not including those in the servant's quarters, Each of which had one bathroom, A large outstanding kitchen, two dining rooms both that overlooked the sea, a full library, an exceptional study, a music room with a dancing space, a drawing room, three lounges, a bar, a playroom and even a tall glass conservatory.

And that wasn't including the many Acres of land that came with the house. Or for that matter, it's decades-old garden with several ponds, tall hedges, stone statues and small reading nooks, as well as an old withered greenhouse full of ageing plants and books. All of it sat beside the sea looking out to widows fall, a locally known spot with a tall weeping willow that glanced down to the sea, named so as many widows had fallen to their end.

On the road up to Ocean View Manor was a black coach being hauled by two white and brown spotted horses both running up the path towards the murky stone fountain of a mermaid that loomed before the front door.

Once the coach pulled up the door quickly unfurled and a man emerged.

He was tall, he was thinly built with raven boots, gloomy cotton trousers and a jacket of melancholic velvet both of which he mildly adjusted as he ambled onto the gravel. He ran his left hand through his blonde hair with a broad smile scrutinising the house.

'What a lovely house' he thought, a house they would soon make a home.

"What do we think?" He asked as he glanced beside him,

"A tad, grandiose. Don't you think Thomas?" The sweet voice of his wife smiled with a hint of concern, as she stood beside him in her ebony boots, long raven dress, a sweet small jet shawl around her arms and shoulders with a Veil of black lace over her face and hair concealing her entirely from view by the world,

"Well, I always vowed I'd buy my precious lady a castle," he grinned as he seized her by the hand and kissed her through her lace gloves,

"It'll take us forever to unpack," she soughed with that familiar pragmatic concern,

"Humm my adorable little cynic," he chuckled, "But really Y/n?"

"I do like it" she answered, "Immaculate for our little family,"

"Well, maybe we have a nice extensive house perhaps our family needs not to stay so small" he encouraged as tugged her closer,

"Daddy! Daddy, this is our new house!" A petite voice beamed which made Thomas turn to see Robin as he scampered from the coach and left his poor nanny in the doorway,

Thomas chuckled and picked Robin up, he gave him a spin and then sat the boy on his hip,

"Yes indeed my boy, our new home,"

"It's big!"

"It is very big, and you're going to have your own big bedroom,"

"Really!"

"Absolutely! A big bedroom all for your own and a playroom for all your toys," he encouraged, "Come on then get your case and we'll go explore,"

"It is a lovely house, Mr Sangster,"

He looked over and saw how now robins nanny, Winifred had come over to see the house too, her long grey dress striking the floor, a white apron around her with some pencils in her pocket her radiant orange curls pulled back into a tight bun, he smiled incapable to stop his introspections of pity for the poor girl,

"Indeed it is Wini, come along then everyone while we have daylight," he said as he headed to the door, unlocked it and opened it wide letting the cloud of dust flutter out the doors.

Thomas took a walk around the house following the corridors and doorways to find his way around while things were unpacked having general thoughts about the house and where he planned to put certain items as well as perhaps purchasing other items to fill the space better.

"Mr Sangster?" A man asked as he popped out rather suddenly from a doorway, in a black formal suit a grace of grey hair on his head but little else,

"Oh! Goodness Franklin, you made me jump, what is it?"

"Just a small question sir. Where did you want… the ladies' piano?"

"Music room of course she'll be very happy in there," he smiled back before he persisted with his walk but Franklin followed him,

"Do you not think sir that may compel problems?"

"How so?"

"For young Robin... in his violin lessons?"

"Ah yes. Good point. Robin can have his lessons in his playroom now he has plenty of space just make sure his new violin teacher knows to select his books from the music room before class," he nodded

'It did make sense, he didn't want the two to disturb each other, especially with Robin so premature in his lessons, perhaps he could join her in the music room once he got a little better' and momentarily he imagined the sweet music Robin and Y/n could create together.

Thomas adored the idea of little Robin and Y/n playing together in fact it was most of the reason he had insisted on hiring a violin teacher for Robin almost as soon as he could walk, the sweet idea in this lovely old house to hear the sounds of her old piano and his violin.

And at that moment he thought, where is my lovely lady?

He Searched around for a while and attempted to find his beloved wife but only found emptiness on the ground floor. So he headed upstairs to the bedrooms and immediately grinned as he heard the delicate singing.

He followed the sound into the grand master bedroom where Y/n stood as she had when they arrived slowly unpacking boxes and bags of clothes into the wardrobe, her veil and gloves removed to display her ravishing hair and velvety charming face, she had yet to notice him so he shut the door and watched her for a few seconds moving things from their bags and boxes to their new places in their home and as she bent to fetch a black and white hat box from the floor he smirked, glanced at her behind in her bustle ladened dress before he wolf-whistled at her which made her jump,

"Thomas! You startled me," she said before she returned to unpacking,

"Sorry," he chuckled and headed over, wrapped his arms around her body, "hello Y/n," he cooed,

"Hello Thomas," she sighed,

"Humm? Why sigh? Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"Of course I am. But I'd be more pleased if you helped," she teased,

"Course," he chuckled so he moved away to help unpack his clothes into the wardrobe and drawers, "Wini and Franklin seemed ecstatic with their rooms, Wini almost fainted when she saw the kitchen,"

"I'm sure she did it's a very nice advancement from the old house,"

"It is, Robin loves the playroom and instantly went for the big dollhouse,"

"Of course he would you know he adores his interior design."

"I know, never plays with the actual dolls,"

"He does, for modelling. He'll sit them in the kitchen chairs and whatnot or do a dining room scene,"

"Odd little boy,"

"Would you expect anything less from our little boy?"

"I suppose not," he chuckled, "What's your favourite room?"

"I rather like the greenhouse,"

"The greenhouse? I suppose it is your… style, my love,"

"How so?" she glared,

"Spooky. I'm sure you'll have it stunning in there by the summertime"

"Where do you like best then Thomas?"

"It's a tie I adore the conservatory. I can imagine numerous spring and autumn dawns sitting there for breakfast, or reading a book and watching the rain batter the garden. Or…the music room,"

"Why?"

"Because I can just imagine all our lovely parties, everyone can gather and have a nice drink and dance to your captivating songs,"

"Ummm I best be paid for being the musician at my own party," she smiled taking a striped shoe box to the wardrobe,

"You shall as always be paid in kisses," he smiled as he took her hand and pulled her into his chest to pepper her dress with kisses,

"Alright," she laughed as she pushed his kissing lips back and smiled as she laid her head on his chest, "How's Florence in the new house?" She questioned,

Thomas froze up, his blood ran cold, he enveloped his arms around her gradually and carefully, and he caressed her back attempting not to let out an exhausted sigh,

"Sweetheart. We talked about this," he said, his voice full of fear, he chose his words so carefully and made sure each one came from his lips with the tone and care it needed to reach her ears precisely, he feared his words would distress her but they had to be said, "Florence isn't here."

"Oh…" she said, her body ran as cold as ice in his arms, "Yes of course. How silly of me," her tone shifting to sound distant and hollow,

"It's alright... I know it's… hard For you sometimes," he spoke up,

"I just miss her," She said the sound of choked tears in her throat,

"I know sweetheart. I miss her too. Come on, let's get finished up and we'll go for a nice stroll in our beautiful garden," he proposed, trying to take her mind off the topic entirely.

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster #thomas sangster imagine #tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

Note

This is a hard question and I want to apologize in advance:

John Dashwood's first plan of honouring his father's wishes and helping his sisters is giving each of them £1,000 in addition to the £1,000 they recieved when their uncle died. The estate gives him £4,000 a year on top of what he already made. So, was his first plan actually generous or did he start out stingy even before he ended at "call me if you need anything xoxo"?

Firstly, lol on that last line.

Now to your question. There are three different ways to look at if John's original plan was generous or not. 1. Was it a lot of John's money? 2. Would it have made a difference to the girls? and 3. Would it be considered generous by others? Because it would be very generous for Fanny Price to give you a shilling but not generous for Mrs. Norris to give you a pound, if you know what I mean.

For #1, John's income is far higher than the £4000/year from the Norland estate. We know his mother had an "ample" fortune that is now in his possession (Ch 1). We also find out that Fanny had a dowry of £10,000 (Ch 61). If we suppose that John's fortune from his mother is at least equal to Fanny's dowry, he has an income of at least £5000/year.

He also has a good deal of ready money. He says this about buying a farm adjacent to his estate:

"...but, with regard to the purchase-money, I might have been very unfortunate indeed; for the stocks were at that time so low, that if I had not happened to have the necessary sum in my banker’s hands, I must have sold out to very great loss.”

John Dashwood is loaded.

So, is giving his sisters £1000 each generous in comparison to his income? I would say no. He probably could have easily afforded to give them more.

But now for #2, it totally would have made a huge difference to the girls!

Even on a very basic level, £1000 each for the girls doubles their dowry. Now their portion is small either way, but I am sure having an income of £100/year is a lot better than £50.

It also helps them just with their daily expenses. The biggest thing that the Dashwood women could have done with an extra £150 per year is maintain their carriage. Not their horses, that would probably be too expensive, but a carriage itself cost between £15-40/year to maintain. Mrs. Dashwood wanted to keep it but it wasn't in their budget:

The horses which were left her by her husband had been sold soon after his death, and an opportunity now offering of disposing of her carriage, she agreed to sell that likewise at the earnest advice of her eldest daughter. For the comfort of her children, had she consulted only her own wishes, she would have kept it; but the discretion of Elinor prevailed.

Owning a carriage, even if you need to rent horses, would allow the Dashwoods to visit further and with greater ease. It would allow them to build a larger social network not wholly dependant on the Middletons. I imagine it would also just be nice to have easier transportation.

So in the way that it would have meaningfully raised their standard of living and improved their marriage prospects, yes, it would have been generous.

Lastly #3, I think it's fair to consider what other people would have thought of John's actions at the time. When John considers the gift of £1000 each, he thinks to himself, "it would be liberal and handsome!" which means in his mind at least, it would be a generous gift. And he does seem to be a fair judge of how others would view him. For example, he feels a social obligation to invite his sisters to stay with him in town mostly for appearances.

The fact that the eldest son gets everything would be pretty normal in this era and while men were expected to provide for their family, it doesn't seem like they suffered much if they didn't. Just look at Jane Austen herself and her rich brother! This leads me to suspect that because John was fulfilling a moral but not a legal obligation, his gift would be considered generous.

To sum up, was his original gift generous? No and yes and yes. Hope I cleared everything up! (Maybe bring in a moral philosopher?)

#john dashwood #question response #sense and sensibility #generosity #depends how you define generosity #but I do overall think it was a generous gift #though not the most he could have done #the end result of course was horrible

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officerjennie · 1 year

Note

Geraskier prompt: Geralt is hired to kill something that is driving a seaside town to madness. He is told where to go and that he'll know the foul thing when he finds it. Its Jaskier as a siren who only sings at night (loudly in a cave) and jaskier immediately tries to seduce geralt.

It might be two years later, but. Ta-da.

CW: Monster-fucking, light blood caused by nails, wolf witchers have knots, knotting, oral sex, intercourse

Summary: Essentially the prompt. 13.5k of Geralt trying to find out what's bothering the village before fucking it

Taglist: at the bottom - let me know if you want on/off it!

It was a rare day indeed when Roach refused to move onward.

Geralt murmured soothing words to the uneasy mare, her hoof scuffing at the trail she’d come to an abrupt stop on and refused to go so much as a step further down no matter how reassuring he’d attempted to be. Even as stubborn as she could be she’d never stopped like this before, jerking her head up to tug on the reins he held gently in his left hand, her nostrils flaring as she snorted her anger at him.

Not even his heightened senses could enlighten him to what on earth had set her off. It smelled the same here as it had a mile back: muted molding from the soggy fallen leaves on the path, salt in the air carried past the trees from the ocean he couldn’t quite hear yet, faded scent trails from the sparse animal life that had crossed the path as well. No noise had reached him that would cause concern either, and the insect songs and chattering of angry squirrels above didn’t alert him to any intruders around.

There were days that Geralt trusted Roach’s instincts far more than his own, but today was not one of those days. He calmed her unease the best he could, slowly stroking her mane until her head leaned against him, not moving until she was back to nipping at him as she always did - albeit with less sass than usual.

He did not try riding her any further. It took nearly three hours to make a trek that should have been only half of one, Geralt leading Roach onward with the promise of a nice scrub down and as much hay as her belly could fit in it as soon as they made it to the small villa he knew the road led to.

Roach was not convinced any good would come of her putting even a single hoof further down that road, but she followed at her own excruciatingly slow pace, making her feelings known every step of the way.

It had been only a handful of years since he’d been this close to the ocean, so close now that as the village came into view he could hear the soft hush of water against sand in the distance. If he remembered correctly he had walked this way before, Roach having been left in a stable in trusted hands as he’d tracked down a monster that had been eating livestock - farm horses included - and destroying the livelihoods of several families that had relied on milk and cheese and grain as their only income. Perhaps the ocean was bothering her. Not likely, since she’d been near it further up the coast, but the thought still allowed Geralt to dismiss any further concerns with a near silent grunt, and with his own shoulders relaxing it was easier (if only minutely) to convince her to journey the last few hundred feet to the very small guest stable attached to the traveler’s inn located on the outskirts of the village.

At least she didn’t protest being left alone there too much, save for the hard nip she gave his arm when he went to leave.

It was both a boon and a curse that it really was an inn and not a tavern. Geralt would have thanked some deity for the quiet that met him when he entered but at this point in his life he doubted they cared - at least not for him; others seemed blessed enough with their gifts (though others still he did not at all envy for their accrued favor. The gods were fickle creatures, and not wholly good by any means). It meant his ears wouldn’t be ringing from drunken fools not knowing how to keep quiet, but it also meant there would be little ale as well; a simple sniff of the air confirmed that for him.

How empty the inn was, however, was definitely a little concerning. Only his enhanced hearing let him know the entire building wasn’t empty; somewhere in the back, more than likely in some pantry or kitchen from the distinct clinking noises, someone was rummaging around for something and mumbling while they did. Other than that, there was no one save for a mouse he heard scurrying about its business somewhere close by.

No one to even check him in for a room, or stable boarding either. He didn’t really need a room given the time of day but he really couldn’t just leave Roach without guaranteeing she could stay - last thing he needed was to hunt someone down for selling her or stealing her, or letting her wander off on her own.

He hated having to snoop to find someone. Geralt closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to keep the irritation down, so used to humans that he knew exactly how this one would respond to him popping in out of nowhere. Used to it didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating, though he’d long ago stopped trying to convince them that he wasn’t there to eat their children or make off with their valuables, or whatever crazed idea this village might have about witchers.

Considering the tall tales he’d already heard, it could be anything, and that was not making the growing headache go away.

But, standing there wouldn’t solve any of his issues. He begrudgingly walked towards whoever was making noise farther into the building, making a conscious effort to make noise himself as he walked, and taking note as to how unused the place felt. The tables he passed seemed clean but too clean, as if no one used them. The chairs were all pushed in neat and tidy, the counter having no signs of recent stains from food or drink, and the only smells of humans was, well, only one human. More than likely the one that was griping after a louder bang had stopped their rummaging.

It was all putting him on edge, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. An unused, clean inn at the edge of a small village shouldn’t be that off-putting - but Roach didn’t freak out over nothing.

Around the corner of the bar was indeed the door to a pantry, which was right next door to a small kitchen. It was in the pantry that he found a rather stout woman, more than likely in her mid 30’s (though his understanding of human ages had always been a bit hazy), who was cursing some jar of preserves that had fallen on her foot. At least it wasn’t broken, considering the empty state of her shelves that was no small blessing.

“Got any room at the stables?”

He winced at how quickly she whipped around at him, holding the jar as if she might bash her startler’s skull in with it. Hadn’t been his intention to give her such a fright but considering his track record he wasn’t sure what he expected.

“Couldn’t have given at least a little warning before sneaking up on me like that?”

He shrugged one shoulder as he watched her thankfully lower her weaponized preserved fruit. She gingerly placed it by one other jar on the bottom shelf, dusting her hands off on the old apron she had tied around her waist.

“Well. Answer’s yes, as long as you didn’t bring a whole herd with you.”

“Only one.”

She nodded, still breathing carefully seemingly to calm her own nerves. But after a second more she gave a single nod, successfully collecting herself enough to look up at him with sharp eyes. “I expect payment upfront. No loans nor future services accepted. Might have once upon a time, but not in this day and age. Promises won’t put food on the table.”

“Or into the pantry.”

She swept her eyes around the pantry once with a frown, agreeing with him on that. Then she shooed him out of her way, sweeping past him to busy herself in the kitchen next door. “Imagine you’ll want a room as well, yes? Can’t promise there’ll be no cobwebs but I’ve fresh linen, and the stew’s on. Not much meat in it but it’ll do.”

The promise of a hot meal was tempting, but Geralt’s nerves were still on edge. He wasn’t really sure if he was supposed to join her in the kitchen so he stood awkwardly in the doorway, caught on some innocuous thing she’d said.

‘Not in this day and age.’ Could mean anything. Could mean, like her pantry shouted at him, that she’d run into tough times. War had been an increasing threat from the south, which meant those that dared to travel were doing less and less of it anyway, sticking to areas they knew well and sticking with heavy guard. It meant when groups did seek lodging they usually paid more, for security and for the extra people with them, but with less and less travel it meant those groups were few and far in-between.

But that statement wasn’t by itself, wasn’t without the context that had him doubting the security of this area ever since Roach had dug her heels in earlier. So Geralt just couldn’t let that go, chewing over it as the woman bustled about getting a bowl down and boiling water for what smelled like herbal tea.

“You always this empty?”

He had interrupted her, and it was a conversational shift she hadn’t wanted if the purse of her lips had anything to say about it. Her eyes hardened as she dipped a ladle into the stew, dishing out a hefty portion before placing it near him on the counter.

“No. Well, yes, lately, but it’s not normal since I know that’s what you’re asking.”

At least it seemed like she was willing to share her tale, though not before settling them in for some tea and food. And not before getting her coin either. Once they were settled in at the bar, the only two in the whole place, she gave a pointed look towards his coin purse until he untied it and handed over what he owed her.

To her credit, she didn’t inspect it like many did. Didn’t look the coin over just to make sure it wasn’t fake, as if he’d had the time or skill to craft realistic fake ones. Not that he didn’t doubt others could - he’d met some frugal and crafty wizards in his time - but damned if he looked like he could do that sort of shit.

She didn’t even bother putting it away after a once-over counting of it, taking one big slurp of her own bowl of stew before starting her tale, wiping her mouth on a rag as she began.

“Used to be a decently busy town. Nothing like the big cities or even the towns on the busy roads, of course - not that I’d know much about them. No real experience traveling, just you get talkative stragglers. Folks that can’t shut their mouths about where they’ve been, as if it makes them any more important than the ones that have to clean up after them.

“Anyway, it’s been a few months since the travelers stopped coming. Blame the war on that one.” She grumbled a bit at that as Geralt eyed his own stew, noticing the lack of meat and grimacing at the amount of carrots. He hated cooked carrots.

“But that’s not what really has been going on. Something...something has gotten to the townsfolk.”

“Could be a bit vaguer.”

He almost regretted his sass at the look the woman gave him. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was a powerful witcher when one gave him a scolding look. He just grunted and ate one of his carrots, managing to swallow it down despite the disgust he felt at the texture.

“Around a month ago a voice started to ring out at night. Not sure of the exact time but it’s consistent, and it...it does something to people.” Her face pinched up in confusion, and she took a sip of her tea before she continued. “I’m not entirely sure what it’s doing exactly, but I can tell you the effect it has on them. Damned near every single person in the town starts going crazy for each other. Well. All the adults, anyway, but we don’t have many kids ‘round here. Most of them are off in our sister town.”

That was a bit puzzling. “No kids?”

She shrugged, waving her hand as if he wasn’t asking the right question. “Most of the folks ‘round here don’t actually live here. It’s mainly for work. The soil isn’t great for farming, most of the profit is from fishing, and it’s a rather new place anyway. Families haven’t moved in yet. They just threw up shacks to sleep in in-between fishing trips.

“But they’ve started going nuts. Every night it starts around the same time, all spurred on by that voice, and honestly you should be glad to hear the kids are elsewhere for it. Don’t need them scarred for the rest of their lives over this nonsense.”

Geralt shifted in his seat to face her more, studying her with a steady gaze. “Some voice driving people crazy. Any idea where the voice is coming from?”

“The sea. Least that’s what it sounds like. Haven’t really gone investigating, don’t really wanna get scarred myself.”

“How violent are they?” This did not sound good. He ran a mental list of his potions as he always did when preparing for something potentially dangerous, not liking that his only informant did not seem to know much of anything of what was happening. There were so many sea creatures and he’d faced all of None before, and if it was this bad already he didn’t have time to travel back to Kaer Morhen to ask Vesemir if he had any advice for him.

No time to study up on what to do. All he could do is hope his skills and knowledge were enough as they were.

His mental preparations were cut short by a snort, the woman snickering at him for a minute with mirth in her eyes. “No, witcher, violent is the wrong word for it. Not violent crazy. More like they can’t get enough of each other.”

Gods but did Geralt hate when people talked around issues. He grunted at her before drinking down some of his own tea, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Speak plainly, else I won’t know how to help you.”

“Oh aren’t you a dear?” Her sweet tone was not aided by her own rolled eyes. “They grab each other, no matter where they’re at or who they are. It’s like an open-air brothel ‘cept no one pays for nothing. Not really a sight I’d wish on anyone.”

That...was certainly something. He frowned further, trying to work that over in his head as he stirred around the carrots in his bowl.

“Fucking?”

“Put bluntly, yes.”

“And a voice spurs this on?”

“Is what I’ve been saying, yes.”

Her annoyed tone aside, that at least sounded like something Geralt was peripherally knowledgeable about. Couldn’t quite put his finger on the creature but he was certain he’d read something of it before, back in the library at Kaer Morhen, searching through dusty tomes to research a monster he’d been hired to hunt down near the keep.

Being so old made it hard to recall specifics. He shook his head, sighing as he gave up on that route for the time being. Could try and remember later, even without remembering anything he could get a first hand account of what this specific creature was doing to this specific town.

“Can you give me anything else? What the voice is saying, what direction it comes from - other than ‘the sea’,” he added the last before the woman could sass him, as he was certain she was going to. The turn of her lips told him he was right, too.

“Doesn’t really say much of anything. Nothing I can understand anyway.” She finished off her tea and stared at the bottom of her cup as if it had personally offended her. “Some sort of language probably but not mine. It sings. Not a bad melody if you care for music, though I’d rather it not.”

A singing beast, then. And if it sounded like a language then it was likely sentient, which muddled things up a bit. He scratched the bridge of his nose, wishing he’d listened to Roach and just not come this way. It all sounded like far too much trouble, especially given the state of the inn. Not like she could pay him much of anything, and he really didn’t want to get involved in this.

But, trouble sure loved to drag him into it.

“I’ll deal with it.”

He didn’t like how easily he accepted the mission she hadn’t even asked him to take.

Nor did he like how little rest he got. He had gone up to one of her free rooms (which was all of them, given the state of the village) and watched as she groused and fussed over it before he finally shooed her away - something he was sure he would regret later, given she was the one feeding him for his stay here, and given the look she sent him as she shut his door. The quiet of the empty inn had promised him some form of rest but it had been an empty promise, as sleep evaded him as it was often wont to do.

Night found him no more well rested than he’d been. He left the inn with all of his weapons double and triple checked to be in their place on his person, cracking his neck as he stopped by the connected stable to say hello to Roach.

Given the bite she gave to his shoulder, she was not ready to forgive him yet. The apple he brought made her at least consider it, so he knew he’d get back in her good graces eventually.

The woman had pointed him in a more specific direction before he had gone off to his room so Geralt knew which road (of the few that the village had) to take towards the sea. He made sure to go at least before night was fully upon them, dusk still touching the sky above with its colors, hoping to avoid the ‘open air brothel’. Luck was on his side with this at least. He saw not a single person as he walked down the dusty path that quickly turned to sand, walking the salt and pepper beach as he headed for an outcropping of rocks that jutted out into the tide.

Chances were that he wouldn’t be able to reach the creature from the beach, but it was a start. Geralt hardly expected to hunt down the thing and solve the issue in one night. Best to gather as much information as possible and take this as slowly as needed, especially given it was both sentient and not killing people.

Wasn’t an issue he could let be for long though. It might not be killing people but it was certainly disrupting their lives in a way that could harm them.

The beach was quiet save for the sussing of the water and his own footfalls. He leapt up on some rocks when he reached them, stepping carefully as to not slip and make a fool of himself on their slick surface, walking out a way to better survey the surrounding water. They weren’t the only rocks one could climb on out at that beach but they were the only ones connected to the land, some jutting out instead from the open water, something that he would not be stepping a foot in until he knew the creature better. He would have the sure advantage on land, had good footing and experience on his side there, but it was a poor day indeed when something managed to drag him underwater.

Sure, he’d won that sort of fight before, but he’d rather not repeat it. Close calls came a little too close when he couldn’t even get oxygen.

He sat down on the rocks to wait for the coming music, reigning back in his wandering thoughts, running one finger over the surface of the rocks beneath him as he waited. The air was thick with salt, sea mist leaving his skin damp, the color and light slowly leaving the sky as night took it over.

Shouldn’t be too long of a wait if the woman’s accounts were right. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles to keep them from staying too tight, going one group at a time to be sure he didn’t cause himself any injury if a fight was to come.

The singing came shortly.

It started out soft, hardly a whisper above the sea’s own song. A hum that Geralt hardly recognized was there, only tickling at the edge of his consciousness, and it was only thanks to his witcher’s blood that he did not become bespelled. He knew this because he felt the touch of magic. Felt it buzzing against his skin, sending ghost sensations of what the magic was meant to do.

The music became louder.

Geralt opened his eyes, feeling the ghosting heat crawling over his body and shaking it off. He squinted at the moving water, searching for any sort of shapes within it that might give away the location of the creature. In order to project its song it should have to be above the water but he knew so little of it that even that assumption could be wrong; it could be using something else to project the song, a beacon of sorts perhaps, and not actually be singing out in the open at all.

At least the song was a pleasant one. Nothing that grated against his eardrums and made him want to tear them out - he’d heard plenty worse, no matter that this one had such interesting side effects.

There. On the rocks. Geralt stilled further, staring just off east from where he was seated, seeing something on one of the outcroppings - how he hadn’t noticed it climbing up onto them he wasn’t sure, but that didn’t matter at the moment because he had clear sight of the creature.

It wasn’t one to worry about its safety, sitting so open like that. If he could assign typical human genders to the creature he would say it looked male, his chest bare to the night save for a good dusting of hair curling, dampened down by the sea he had just come from. And it was so very clearly a sea monster, light reflecting from the stars and moon above off of a brilliant scaled tail that dipped down into the water - his colored sight was not good enough for such a late hour but he could make out greens and blues tinting the reflected light.

A flashy creature, then, one whose design was to be seen.

His eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his cheeks, expression surprisingly soft as he sang his song out towards the village. Brown hair clumped together by water still tousled in the salty mist and wind that graced them, his slender form belying a strength Geralt was sure the creature held.

A rather attractive, flashy creature. Not that it mattered - Geralt frowned ever so slightly at himself, shoving that thought off into a corner to be covered with dust and forgotten. It did not matter if this creature was repulsive or attractive. All that mattered was if it was sentient, and that it was affecting the village and all the lives within it.

He sat there, studying the creature as it sang, watching for intent or any other emotions within its expressions, and was surprised that he never once seemed to notice Geralt watching him. For at least an hour he sang, his music shifting in style and tone, going from non lyrical to a weaving melody of what certainly sounded like words but not like any he’d heard before. He had the face of someone performing, of someone putting his all into what he was doing, taking breaths from his core and not holding a single expression, letting it change as the music changed.

For that hour, Geralt watched him and let the music flow over him. And after that hour was done he watched the creature slip back into the water, scales flashing in the moonlight, slipping away until Geralt could see not a sign that anyone other than him had been there.

Geralt waited a while longer, relaxed and breathing in the salt air, before finally rolling his shoulders and standing back up. The tide had receded since he had jumped up onto the rock, making reaching the beach faster, the sand wet and dampening his footfalls as he headed back to see the aftermath that waited for him in the village.

It was the smell that hit him first. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of arousal and sweat at the edge of the village, confirming even without seeing anything that the woman’s story had been right.

Geralt thought it best to avoid the randy villagers, though he was curious as to how long they were affected. Was it just until the creature's song ended? Did it last well into the night? What other sorts of hypnotism could this creature cause with its voice alone?

His voice. Geralt stayed clear of the village despite his curiosities, deciding it best to head back to the inn and meditate.

The innkeeper was not awake when he returned. It was blessedly silent, eerily so. He paused in the front doorway, weight shifting between his legs, and decided to not go in yet.

Roach was far from settled into the stable. Uneasy, nostrils flaring, pacing in her stall. He called out softly to her, and as he got closer he saw the sass had turned right into fear. No angry nips at his shoulder, just wide-eyed and prepared to bolt if he was dumb enough to open the stall door.

So he didn't open it. He climbed over it with ease - and Vesemir would have called him all kinds of stupid for getting into a small stall with an upset and scared horse.

It was stupid, but he wasn't fragile. He knew Roach well enough to calm her, though it took time and plenty of quick steps to keep her from accidentally smushing him up against a wall.

Worry gnawed at him even as Roach's breathing evened out. His voice was calm, quiet, fingers finding that spot she loved scratched near her ear - but Geralt had never seen her this afraid, and did not know the nature of this beast he was up against.

"It's alright," he said, soothing his hand down her neck and giving it a few good pats. She leaned heavily into the affection, unable to tell he was lying.

And morning came far too soon.

Despite the rather decent bed that had been made just for him, Geralt spent the night with Roach. He’d managed to meditate some after she'd calmed down, only brought out of it by the stray worried knicker or uneasy snort.

Age had certainly made some memories spotty, but meditation had brought him a bit closer to some sort of answer. If not from specific knowledge, then from experience. No exact creatures had come to mind as he'd scratched Roach behind the ears, no name to give it for all his thinking, but Geralt had fought plenty of monsters. Both sentient and creature.

The best thing he could do was find out which it- he was, and find out exactly what he wanted.

With the sun up and his stomach giving loud protests, he finally went back to the inn, with a promise to Roach that he'd be back. She flattened her ears at him but didn't bother to bite, most of the fight scared out of her.

Either that, or she was too damned tired for it. She'd slept like shit.

The fight had not been scared out of the innkeeper. Her sass was just as strong that morning, her night's rest uninterrupted by the town's happenings, and Geralt started to wonder over his breakfast why exactly this one woman, out of the whole town, was unaffected.

He didn’t bother asking, doubting she’d have any insight into why that might be.

After breakfast, he went up to the room she’d tidied up for him, deciding that mediation might help him get his thoughts in order - or remember something that might help him. Over the decades he’d read countless books: scouring the libraries at Kaer Morhen before they were destroyed, stopping by book stores when he had some spare coin, even letting his fingers stray whenever he was invited into a home that had them on display. Not that he ever stole any, but if he had time to crack a spine or two he would, always on the lookout for more information.

In his line of work, information meant life or death. He hoped he had some locked away in his memories.

The inn was quiet enough for his needs. Geralt shut the door behind him, kneeling in the middle of the floor, and breathed slowly. Willed his thoughts to go still, his body to relax, his senses to take everything in but only process what he needed.

Once he was quiet, once the world was just at the edges of his perception, he began to dig in his own mind.

Books upon books. Countless scrolls, endless conversations with witchers young and old. Huntsmen whose tongues got looser as they drank. Geralt could not remember them all, but his memory was better than most, if only because he knew how to trigger them. Decades of experience only needed a touch to be untapped, but try as he might Geralt could not recall anything about a creature that sang from the sea.

Hours passed, and it felt like minutes. Geralt came back to himself with a sharp inhale, and a slow exhale.

He did not know what this creature was, and he was unprepared.

With a roll of his shoulders, stretching the ever sore muscles there, he glanced towards the window. It would be dark again shortly. He didn’t have much time.

The innkeeper had more stew boiling over the fire. She didn’t even look at him as he came down the stairs, busying herself this way and that, keeping the place neat and clean despite its lack of use. Without pause, she poured him a bowl and sat it on a table, waving him towards it before busying herself all the way to the pantry.

He didn’t dare leave it, not willing to waste food or earn her ire. Decades of experience also told him who shouldn’t be trifled with.

It was with no further information that Geralt tightened his sword straps that evening, leaving the inn as colors started to touch the sky. He frowned up at the oranges and yellows, hearing Roach whinny softly in the stables nearby, and wished he had taken her elsewhere. The distress wasn’t good for her, and she didn’t feel anything but that in this village.

By morning, if he hadn’t figured out how to solve the village’s sea creature problem, he would take her elsewhere and come back alone. It’s the least he could do for her.

The wind blew softly that evening, snatching up the long strands of his hair and making them dance and tickle his face. He snorted a few times as he took the long way to the beach, still not willing to witness first hand what the creature was making the townsfolk do - though it would be better for him to see its effect, there were certain lines even his profession couldn’t make him cross. Town wide orgies caused by a man with a fishtail singing was, it turned out, one of those lines. As he found himself on the beach again, watching the sunset, he hoped it wasn’t one he’d come across too terribly often.

Sand soft under his boots, Geralt made his way to the water’s edge. He inhaled deeply, catching no whiff of the creature, though he hadn’t smelled it the night before either. Though he dared not close his eyes, he listened as best he could. Seagulls in the distance, water rushing over sand and hitting the rocks, wind rustling in the trees just at the end of the beach.

Nothing else, save for his own breath and heartbeats. He was alone above the water.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t here. Squinting into the waves, he saw crabs floating with the tide. Little fish darting here and there, too quiet for him to hear, drowned out by the sound of the sea.

It could be just as quiet. He- Geralt frowned, cocking his head so his hair stopped tickling his face. He could be there with Geralt and there was a chance Geralt wouldn’t even know, his movements hidden by the sun’s bright reflection on the water, the sound deafened by everything else around him.

Would do better to hide and wait, see what happened. Though there weren’t really places to hide that were safe. Behind the rocks might obscure him from sight, but by the time he’d left the night before the rocks were in water.

Not deep water, but in water. Where the creature was. And Geralt’s chances of survival were much higher when he was out of the water.

The sun was getting too low to stand there and think much longer. Geralt looked over the water once more, slowly, trying to catch any movement that seemed out of place. Nothing stuck out to him, nothing called his attention, so he turned towards the rocks once more.

Safety aside, hiding was his best option, so he huddled down and waited for the creature to sing.

Dusk darkened the sky, colors fading from view. Geralt kept himself relaxed, not wanting his muscles tense, his senses open to the world around him. Hands clasped gently in front of him, balancing on the balls of his feet, waiting for any sign that the creature was back.

Movement nearby caught his attention, his eyes sharp as he turned his head, squinting as he listened.

That voice, low over the water. Barely a whisper yet weighed heavy with magic weaved into it. A shiver went down his spine as it rolled over him, ghost sensations back once more.

Geralt shifted his weight, and peered around the rock, balancing himself with one hand in the sand and water.

He was perched on the same rocks as before, though this time he wasn’t facing the village. Really he wasn’t perched at all. Slouched over the rocks horizontal to the beach, chin propped up on one palm while his free fingers were lazily trailing through the water. Despite the power in his voice he seemed bored, eyes barely focused, tail occasionally flicking water up to spray over him.

Like that, his voice wouldn’t project far. It barely reached Geralt’s ears, though the witcher had no doubt the magic was already seeping into the villagers. He shifted closer, watching the creature as he sang a bored but beautiful melody, and tried to make out any of it that he could.

No words he recognized reached him, but he could tell it was a different song than the ones from before. He wondered if there was a purpose to each song or if the creature was just…singing.

Did it know what it was doing? Was it weaving a spell over the villagers on purpose? He cocked his head, shifting his hand to the rock when the sand beneath him started to shift with the coming tide, wondering what purpose this creature had here - or if there was no purpose at all. If it had just come ashore and sang, and had no knowledge of what it did to humans.

Trying to figure it out without confronting the beast was get him nowhere. Geralt breathed in deeply, slowly, testing his muscles to make sure none had gone stiff while he’d waited. And then he focused on the half-fish, half-man, deciding then that he would face it first without a drawn sword.

He stood up slowly. The creature was watching the way his fingers moved through the water, eyes half focused, a soft melody on his lips. Water dripped from his hair down his cheeks, falling back into the sea below, the hair on his chest slowly drying in the breeze and curling further.

Geralt was reminded of paintings he'd seen of fae folk. Almost human, beautiful, but off and eerie. Claws at the ends of his fingers. Webbing between them. Sharp teeth. Flecks of color on his skin that must have been scales. Slitted pupils that didn't change as the light dimmed - meant for the depths, where light rarely made its home.

Blue eyes, as deep as those depths, pinned him in place when the creature saw him.

The fingers trailing through the water stilled. The melody died on his lips, though the magic lingered as if suspended, waiting. His body shifted on the rock, head cocking ever so slightly, and those eyes studied Geralt just as Geralt had studied him.

Intelligent. Sharp. Calculating. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Geralt’s hand twitched when he saw the muscles in his back flex. Claws scraping against the rocks beneath him - and Geralt knew the creature was making a decision, deciding he was a threat.

Not the decision Geralt wanted it to make, not when he was certain it was intelligent. He had no idea if the creature could be reasoned with, if it even spoke the common tongue, but he wouldn’t fight it without trying.

As the creature tensed up, his upper lip twitching and showing teeth, Geralt called out to it over the sound of the sea.

“Why do you sing here?”

He paused, lips parted, clawed hand supporting him up off of his rock perch. And then he cocked his head, wet hair sticking to his forehead, sharp eyes scrutinizing Geralt once more but now accompanied by a wrinkle of his nose.

Water rushed over Geralt’s boots, up his shins. The sand shifted beneath him as the tide came further inland. He steadied himself on his own rock, not looking away from the creature as he looked at him in turn.

Then, the creature hunkered down. Something lit up his eyes, and a grin flashed across his lips right before he rolled off into the water below.

Geralt cursed, immediately rushing to the safety of land, eyes scanning the surface of the water. Near the rock the creature had been laying on, a fin flashed, spraying water into the air and heading away from the village.

Without a second thought, Geralt ran in that direction, determined to keep up with him.

Past the sand, a rock path ran perpendicular to the sea, up the slope of a hill. Geralt kept his eyes on the water, listening around him to make sure nothing else was up ahead. Scales glistened in the moonlight whenever the creature would breach the surface, greens and blues leading Geralt away, away, until the sounds of the creature’s magic were behind them.

The sounds of the villagers as well. Far behind him, until it was naught but the sea and the nearby forest and farms that Geralt could hear.

Despite the power behind that tail, he didn’t swim fast. Geralt narrowed his eyes as he easily kept up with the creature. As it stuck to the coastline, easily visible from land and headed in a clear direction.

Up ahead, Geralt spotted a small spot of land that jutted out into the sea. He could just make out the mouth of a cave, half submerged in water, though it looked like there might be a path in by foot. Slowing his pace, he followed the path’s decline towards the grass up ahead, and only glanced at the sea and the creature in it.

He knew where he was headed. Geralt only wondered then why he’d been led there.

As he made his way towards the cave entrance, Geralt watched the creature’s tail flick up out of the water. Droplets glistened in the moonlight as the creature disappeared into the cave, swimming into it with ease. It was likely, Geralt thought, that the creature had made this cave a nest of sorts, if he made his way there with such ease and confidence.

The tide was gentle there, lapping at grass and rocks as Geralt found himself at the shoreline once more. He found his footing was not compromised, though the path looked untouched. Very few, if any, men had been there before him - at least not in a long while.

Few tracks of any creatures, really. He touched the faded markings from what was likely bear claws, dug into a tree. The bleached blonde hair told him it was from months past. Geralt pulled the hairs free and inhaled their scent, and hummed to himself before letting them go.

They were alone. No scent of rotting flesh, nor any other sign of water fairing monsters he was more familiar with than the new one. He ducked past some hanging vines into the entrance of the cave, noting a carved path out of the stone that would keep him relatively safe out of the water.

Assuming the creature had no other magic in its arsenal. He stepped lightly, not wanting to make a sound, though he knew the creature knew he’d followed.

Running along the footpath, the water thinned out. Geralt paused long enough to squat down, watching it run over the small rocks. Small scales were scattered about, rubbed off against some of the rougher, sharper rocks. He turned his head, seeing where the water deepened again up ahead and disappeared underground.

His path continued. Standing back up, he went on, passing sewant mushrooms and moss that grew along the ground.

Eventually, the water weaved its way through the cave once more, and just as Geralt reached it the singing began. The creature’s voice echoing around him, magic seeping into his voice and making Geralt shiver. It was impossible to tell how far away he was, to pinpoint where his voice was coming from, but the path did not branch and Geralt pressed onward.

It narrowed until Geralt had to squeeze through sideways to keep from falling into the water. Carved up into the hill, so sharply at one point he had to climb his way up, thankful for the stalagmites he could grip onto. Slowly went down to sea level once more, widening into a large opening, the melody echoing around him as he finally reached the water’s end.

The water was still, so far away from the tide’s pull. It had gently pooled in a nest of moss and driftwood, which had been arranged just so in a large circle just off center of the cavern. Large enough for the creature lounging in it to have plenty of room to wriggle about if he wished, though he was still then, propped up against the side of his nest with his chin in his palms as he watched Geralt come closer.

His singing had stopped, but Geralt still felt his melody in the air, brushing against his skin. Powerful magic if it could cling to a witcher, though whatever effect the creature wanted it to have was wasted on one.

As he approached, he wondered how much of a reach the creature had. His tail could lash out, though it would be a much more dangerous weapon in water - and with Geralt being out of the nest, it would be hard for the creature to hit him with it anyway. The claws were his primary concern, sharp and deadly where they sat on the creature’s cheeks, but the thought of unknown magic was shortly behind them.

The creature shifted closer just a touch as Geralt’s steps paused not too far from his nest. Eyes on him, bright and focused, lips parted on a soft breath. He leaned forward as if waiting, anticipating Geralt’s next move, though Geralt…sensed no hostility from him.

His eyes weren’t narrowed. Teeth were not showing. Leaning on his elbows like that, he couldn’t strike fast, and his muscles weren’t tensed like he expected Geralt to strike either. Geralt inhaled slowly through his nose: salt, slowly rotting wood, earth, damp, fungi, fish, and the scent of the creature.

No sweat. Heartbeat faster than a human’s but no telling if it was a normal rhythm for the creature or not. Geralt cocked his head, wondering what the creature was thinking or feeling, and blinked when the creature’s head cocked in the same direction.

“You don’t smell human.”

Geralt squatted down, letting his hands hang loose between his thighs. The touch of magic - he could taste it on his tongue, and stared at the creature’s lips. A long tongue flicked out to wet them.

“I’m not human.”

“Well, neither am I.” The creature’s tail moved, lifting and resettling into place. His scales caught in light that filtered through from an opening in the cave wall.

“You’re not speaking the common tongue.” His lips hadn’t matched the words that reached Geralt’s ears.

The creature gave him a sly grin , the barest bit of teeth showing, though it didn’t feel like a threat. “No. But most can understand me anyway.”

Strange magic, but useful. Would allow the creature to weave whatever song he wanted - Geralt frowned, and leaned closer. He hadn’t understood a word of his songs.

“Why were you singing?”

He blinked, the grin fading just a touch, but then it was back and the creature wriggled forward to get a little closer. “Because it’s fun, and I’m quite good at it, aren’t I? I’ve been told my voice is enchanting.” He looked up at Geralt through long, wet eyelashes, and if it weren’t for the grin still on his lips he would have sounded shy when he asked, “Did you like it? I wrote the last one myself.”

“Enchanting,” Geralt murmured, shifting his eyes away from the creature as his own heart rate picked up. “You weave magic into your songs. Literally. Why rile up the village in such a way?”

“The village?” When Geralt looked back, the creature’s nose was wrinkled again, his lips pinched together. “What village? Oh, I suppose there are a lot of boats at the dock, but I didn’t see a village.”

“It’s behind the treeline, you can’t see it from the beach.”

The creature shrugged. “Didn’t know. Are you from there?” When Geralt shook his head, the creature’s grin returned, and his voice came out like a purr. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Not From the Village and Not Human. What are you? Did you travel far and wide just to stumble across this beach, and just happen to find me?”

“You’ve not met a witcher?” Geralt had to look away again. It would be surprising if the creature hadn’t come across one if he made a habit of singing at the coastline. Surely one would have stumbled across him before. And if he was always so non-threatening, it wouldn’t shock Geralt to learn one hadn’t attacked him.

Even if he’d been ready to attack him, and even if witchers like Lambert existed whose motto was coin first, talk later.

The creature’s hair was drying. When he cocked his head, some spilled away, brushing against his hand. It exposed more of his ear - pointed, dotted with scales. Shaped like a wing with spines. Geralt wondered what it would feel like under his fingers, and shook the thought away quickly.

“Never heard of a witcher. Is that what you are?” Geralt nodded, and the creature purred again. “Does my dear witcher have a name? Or is he mysterious enough to go through life as just the witcher?”

“Geralt.” He felt his cheeks heating up and coughed, scowling. “What’s yours? Or should I just keep thinking of you as the creature?”

“Creature?” The creature shook himself, mouth agape as he stumbled through half starts to words. “I am not a creature, I am- you- creatures are hideous. They’re monsters- do I look like a monster to you?”

Geralt thought it wise to not point out that, yes, he did look like a monster. Instead he shrugged, and the creature narrowed his eyes to slits.

“Jaskier. A name befitting a beautiful creature such as myself.” His tail lifted again, water trickling down his scales and dripping off of his tail onto his back. It all caught in the light, and truly, Geralt had to admit, he was beautiful. “Now tell me, Geralt, do all witchers have such gorgeous features?”

How did they start talking about this? About him? Geralt’s face was burning, and he couldn’t look at the cre- Jaskier. He couldn’t look at Jaskier, and wasn’t sure how to get the conversation back on track.

The village. The spell Jaskier was…apparently unintentionally putting them under. That’s what he was there for, not getting to know him.

But he was curious, at the very least. Geralt dared to glance back at Jaskier, his stomach doing things when those long lashes were fluttered at him again. If Jaskier hadn’t come across any witchers, perhaps most of his species hadn’t - that might be why Geralt’s memory was lacking when it came to his species, whatever it might be. Perhaps there just wasn’t any information on them to begin with.

“What are you?”

“I don’t know what you call me.” Jaskier pursed his lips. His eyes never left Geralt, and it made the witcher shiver. “Not sure if it will translate…siren? Does that sound like anything to you?”

“Good enough. Never heard of your kind.”

“We’re even then.”��

His smile was dangerous. Geralt shouldn’t be so close, shouldn’t have let Jaskier get him distracted. But he didn’t move away, even as he tried yet again to get the conversation back on track. “Your songs carry magic. They bespelled the nearby village. A resident hired me to find you.”

“So you did stumble upon the beach to find me.”

“To find out why you were singing, and to ask you to stop,” Geralt corrected, though that wasn’t exactly what he’d been paid for. Asking wasn’t usually his line of business.

Jaskier deflated, pouting, and finally he wasn’t looking at Geralt. Instead he was looking at the ground between them. “Here I thought you found my songs enchanting.”

“Because you put a spell on the village.”

“I didn’t even know there was a village there.”

He didn’t sound sorry. Just pouty. Geralt ran a hand over his face, frustrated, though his stomach hadn’t stopped doing infuriating little flutters ever since Jaskier first started to purr at him. “It disrupts their lives. Every night, the whole villages goes out and-” Geralt tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, unable to say fucks to this ‘beautiful creature’ “-entertain themselves. In a very disruptive manner. Without the ability to control themselves.”

“Entertainment doesn’t sound bad.” Another wave of his tail through the air, scales glittering in the moonlight.

“Not good entertainment,” Geralt grumbled, scowling back at Jaskier.

“Not my fault they’re not good at parties.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, and he could have sworn Jaskier shivered, “they’re fucking in the streets.”

“Oh that sounds like a brilliant party.”

This was turning out to easily be one of Geralt’s most difficult contracts. With yet another silent prayer to the gods, Geralt took a deep breath and tried to ignore the wriggling creature for just a few seconds.

He was doing it on purpose. Getting under Geralt’s skin, though it didn’t seem like he was doing it to bother him. Certainly not in a ‘make him angry’ sort of way. Geralt leaned forward again, and watched how Jaskier mirrored his movement. How he looked like he was anticipating something.

“What do you want?” His tone had softened, his frustration forced to the side. “You’re not purposely bespelling the village. Besides singing, why are you here?”

“No reason. I was just bored.” Jaskier shrugged again, and he seemed honest. Even if he wasn’t being honest, Geralt didn’t know enough about him or his species to guess a motive to lie. “This seemed like as good a place as any other.”

“You made a nest,” Geralt noted, gesturing with a flick of his wrist.

“Might as well make a home away from home.” With a sigh, Jaskier laid his arms on the edge of the nest, resting his head on them as he fluttered his eyes up at Geralt. “It is rather lonely though. All this nest and no one to share it with.”

Was that why his songs caused the villagers to seek each other out carnally? Because the siren himself was lonely? It was as good an explanation as any other Geralt had, and truly he still wasn’t certain he could trust the creature, no matter that he had a pretty face and seemed earnest.

Eyes focused on a piece of driftwood just next to Jaskier, Geralt asked, “Where are the rest of your species? Could you not seek them out?”

“You’re thick, aren’t you?” Geralt’s eyes shot back to Jaskier, but before he could respond the siren huffed loudly and grumbled at him. “Sure, I could, but it’s the sea. Do you know how big it is? I might run into a few but then it might be one I’ve fought before, or one that already has a mate, or just one I have no interest in. Meanwhile, my nest is cold, I’m lonely, and oh dear witcher whatever shall I do to get through this long, cold night all on my lonesome?”

Another deep breath, Geralt trying his best to remind himself why he was there. Contract. Villagers being disturbed and disrupted, bespelled. He had a job to do and needed to make sure he’d be able to collect afterward. No matter how difficult the siren was, and no matter how alluring he was, that was Geralt’s first and foremost responsibility.

His head tilted back again, Geralt stared at a stalactite up above, clenching his jaw and relaxing it once more to make sure he had a tight grip on his words. “I need you to promise me you won’t sing at the shore anymore.”

“But-”

“It’s bespelling the villagers,” Geralt pushed on, letting his head drop forward again and fixing Jaskier with his gaze. “It’s disrupting their lives. It could do actual harm. Promise me you won’t sing at the shore anymore, or find a way to not use magic with your songs. Please.”

Jaskier deflated, looking small despite the fact that he was quite literally larger than Geralt by a few feet. “Okay. Can I sing here? I don’t want to leave.”

Seemed far enough away from the village and any other settlements that it likely wouldn’t do any harm. Geralt nodded, and added, “I’ll make sure the villagers know to avoid this area. Tell them it’s haunted. Will make people avoid the area.”

“Awfully sweet of you.” With a smile, Jaskier brightened up again just a little. Geralt’s shoulders relaxed at that.

“That won’t help you stay warm, though.” Geralt leaned back on one of his hands, slipping his legs forward and sitting at the edge of Jaskier’s nest. The siren turned to look up at him, that sly smile coming back - and Geralt wasn’t sure how good Jaskier’s hearing was, but he’d be willing to bet Jaskier could hear his heartbeat picking up.

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Despite his question, Geralt was nervous.

Scales glistening in the moonlight, Jaskier shifted closer, letting one clawed, deadly hand trail down Geralt’s leg. “Your company. I’ve never met a witcher, but compared to the humans I’ve met…” Jaskier showed teeth, and Geralt shivered. “You’re quite enchanting yourself.”

“Have you been with humans?” Geralt didn’t know what to do with his hands, and wasn’t sure when he was last that nervous.

“A few times,” Jaskier shrugged. “You look like one, mostly. Will it be the same?”

“I was one, once. We are mostly the same.”

“Mysterious,” Jaskier purred, and reached out to Geralt, running his fingers over the scruff on Geralt’s cheek.

When he pulled Geralt down, he went easily and willingly, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt on Jaskier’s lips.

Geralt did not make a habit of laying with non-humans, though he’d made a few exceptions over the years. A witch or two, another witcher once when he’d gotten rather drunk. One rather alluring succubus who’d saved his life, and who’d spent an entire week with him in an abandoned hut in Skellige. But even the succubus had been more human than Jaskier, with her warm blood and her almost human scent.

Jaskier was cold, still damp. When Geralt inhaled, he smelled the sea more than anything else, as if he was kissing the embodiment of it. He moaned softly, his gloved fingers running through Jaskier’s hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss - and moaned again when Jaskier’s claws scraped his scalp.

How easily Jaskier could end this if he wanted. With his teeth, his claws, a powerful sweep of his tail. Geralt imagined his lithe form belied a strength, though whether it could rival his was to be determined, but any creature of the sea had to be powerful. Yet Jaskier rolled easily when Geralt moved, on his back as Geralt straddled his body, arching under him and not letting their lips part even for breath.

Large lung capacity, Geralt mused even as he lost himself in the taste of the creature beneath him. Jaskier’s tongue flicked into his mouth, long and curious, and just the thought of what it could do made Geralt groan.

He wasn’t dressed for this. When he pulled back, Jaskier pouted, gripping onto him and trying to tug him back down. Geralt gently swatted his hands away with a fake scowl and let Jaskier cross his arms with a huff and a puffed out cheek.

Just for that, Geralt decided to take his time removing his swords and armor. Maybe he could make the sweet creature squirm for him.

His swords went first, unstrapped both at once and placed outside of the nest. When he leaned forward to set them down, he sat up, and Jaskier uncrossed his arms just to purr and run naughty hands over Geralt’s thighs. He gave them an appreciative squeeze, and Geralt exhaled sharply through his nose, telling himself to have patience.

Armor next. Ties and buckles undone one by one, carefully, not willing to damage any of it just to have sex. He didn’t make a show of it but he felt Jaskier’s eyes on him the whole time, and purposely avoided them. As if Jaskier wasn’t there, as if he was merely stripping himself of his armor in his room after a long night.

“Why is it that you wear so much?” Jaskier managed to make it sound like a complaint, but curiosity colored his tone. He did give Geralt’s pants a tug though they went nowhere.

Undoing the fastenings on his left gauntlet, Geralt gave a soft hum. “Witchers fight monsters. Our skin is fragile compared to the metal and leather we can craft with.”

“A warrior.” Jaskier ran his hand up Geralt’s thigh and shifted beneath him. The tip of his tail flicked some water into the air, spraying it onto the other end of the nest. “How fearsome, brave, heroic. Geralt the witcher saving the world from big, scary monsters.”

“You make it sound ridiculous,” he snorted, tugging off his glove and tossing it towards his swords.

“Bet you make it look glorious. Beautiful.”

Geralt dropped the second glove right onto Jaskier’s face just to get him to stop.

Not bothering with taking his time anymore, Geralt had the rest of his armor off and his shirt following shortly. He didn’t care if they got wet, just made sure that they’d be easy to find and kept them all in one place. As soon as his shirt was tossed away, Jaskier’s hands were on him, fingers running delicately over the pink and white scars that ran over his stomach, his chest, his arms.

Jaskier’s eyes drank up every inch of him greedily, and though Geralt was still far too dressed for this he was tugged down into another kiss.

He was still warm from where they’d been kissing before. The thought made Geralt growl, and he bit Jaskier’s lower lip, tugging it with his teeth and growling more as Jaskier’s claws found his back. Running down it just enough for him to feel them, a light burn in their wake.

Every part of Geralt wanted to make Jaskier burn. Set him on fire, leave him hot in the wake of his hands and mouth and tongue. No magic Jaskier had could touch Geralt beyond a shiver - it couldn’t bend his will, it couldn’t take his thought or free will, but Geralt was under his spell all the same.

From every flutter of his long lashes, to the purr on his lips, Jaskier had captured him.

Though Geralt had no idea how to have sex with a siren.

He pulled back again, hands immediately finding his belt, and figured it was better sooner rather than later to find out what the fuck they were doing.

“You’re more experienced here than me.” His belt was tossed towards the pile, the metal buckle clinking against his armor.

Jaskier wriggled beneath him, and Geralt had to steady himself with a hand on his chest. The bastard only grinned at his stumble.

“How do you prefer it, my dear witcher? I know some of your kind don’t like the thought of me fucking them.”

“I’m not human,” Geralt corrected. “And I have no oil.”

“Oil?” Jaskier cocked his head, and helped support Geralt as he shucked off his pants.

“Nothing to slick the way.”

A beat, and Jaskier still looked just as confused.

“Have you only been with women?”

“No, but the men didn’t want me to fuck them.” Jaskier frowned, and a few cute wrinkles showed on his forehead from how deep it was. “Why would you need something to slick the way?”

Geralt didn’t have time for a full anatomy lesson, but he desperately wished he had oil. If he’d brought his pack with him, he would’ve ridden Jaskier until the sunrise had colored the cove bright orange with its rays.

“Next time,” he said without thinking, and finally ripped the last of his clothes off. He didn’t give time for Jaskier to respond, kissing him and letting one of his own hands wander.

Without his gloves, Jaskier’s skin was even colder. Despite that, he felt so human. His chest rising with his breaths, his heartbeat right under the skin, curls of hair under Geralt’s calloused fingertips. The siren’s lips were soft under his own, stubble on his cheeks and chin as Geralt kissed down his face, the soft gasp that followed making Geralt’s blood run hotter.

Hotter still it ran at every reminder that Jaskier was not human. The scent and taste of salt, the rough edges of scales once Geralt’s wandering hand reached his hips. A melodic tone to his gasps and sighs that thickened the air around them. How much larger Jaskier was despite Geralt not being a small man, Jaskier having to steady him when he got to wriggly and almost pitched the man off of his hips.

Were they technically hips? Geralt paused his kissing to look down at where his hand was, ignoring Jaskier’s whine at the loss of contact. It was where his torso met his tail, soft flesh meeting scales, but there were no hip bones - not hips, then, though he wasn’t sure what else to call it.

“Geralt.”

A hand in his hair, tugging lightly, drew his attention. The siren was pouting up at him, his tail shifting restlessly against the driftwood of his nest. Instead of leaning back down to kiss him, Geralt cocked an eyebrow, holding back a grin as the siren started to shift and wriggle around more and more.

“Geralt.”

“Did you want something?”

Oh, and that caused an even more adorable reaction. Jaskier’s pout increasing, another whine tearing out of him, his fingers winding themselves in Geralt’s hair and tugging harder - though not hard enough to force Geralt to move any closer. He was an adorably needy thing.

“You’re supposed to be kissing me.” Jaskier trailed his hand away from Geralt’s hair, a clawed finger running over his lips, and Geralt almost forgot how to breathe at the gentle touch. But just as soon as it was there it was trailing lower, past his chest, his abs, until his hand was running down the inner part of his thigh. “Or fucking me. Ravishing me. Making me beg for more, leaving me so sated and full of lust for you that no one else could ever compare, even as-”

“Do you always talk this much?”

Jaskier gasped and started to stammer at him again, but Geralt hid his embarrassment and cut him off by bending down and trailing light kisses over the gills on his throat. The sound he made sent a shiver down Geralt’s spine, and just to see if he could get him to make it again he flicked his tongue out and ran just the tip over the delicate skin.

Sliding his hips down, Geralt let out a soft moan of his own. His cock, already half hard, slid across Jaskier’s stomach. Carefully, ever so carefully, he ran his teeth over Jaskier’s gills, and the siren hissed and bucked up at the contact. It made Geralt moan louder, his cock caught between them, sliding deliciously against Jaskier’s skin.

“Those are very sensitive,” Jaskier warned, breathless, and Geralt shivered at the tone.

“I won’t hurt you.” Soft, open mouthed kisses over the gills, his hand running up to hold Jaskier’s neck as he kissed back up to his cheek. When he caught Jaskier’s gaze, his blue eyes had grown darker, and Geralt had the distinct feeling he was staring into the eyes of a predator.

“Can’t fuck you if you don’t show me how.”

“You have such a way with words,” Jaskier cooed, claws running down Geralt’s back just hard enough to make him shiver. “How could anyone resist you?”

Geralt snorted, but let Jaskier move him back, sliding down his tail. Straddling scales that were cold against his thighs, the muscles clenching to keep him steady as Jaskier sat up as best he could, shifting underneath him. The front of the siren’s body was smooth, no outward genitalia or holes that caught his eye, and yet Jaskier made no move to roll over.

When Jaskier was settled, he stretched out his hand, though it took Geralt a second to realize he wanted one of his. He let Jaskier have it, amused as Jaskier first played with his fingers. Running his thumb over Geralt’s callouses, scratching at them to see how tough they were, and then running the tips of his fingers between Geralt’s where his own had thin webbing.

“They’re rougher than the others.” It didn’t sound like a complaint.

Geralt shrugged, resting a hand on Jaskier’s scales to support himself. “From my swords.”

“A warrior’s hands,” Jaskier purred, and Geralt was thankful when he didn’t go on like before. Instead, he placed Geralt’s hand at the start of his tail, running it down until the tips of his fingers found a dip in his scales.

Not a dip, a slit. Geralt cocked his head, pressing one finger against it, finding it slick. As he pressed down, Jaskier let out a harsh breath, his grip moving to Geralt’s wrist and tightening as if to never let him go.

“This where I fuck you then?” Voice rough, eyes focused on that slick slit, Geralt slipped his finger in and heard Jaskier choke on his own words. But then Jaskier was shaking his head, pushing Geralt’s hand down further, dragging his finger down through his slit.

“Here.”

Geralt pressed his finger in deeper, to the first knuckle, his pupils blown wide at the wet heat. When he started to work his finger even more, Jaskier’s tail wacked against the nest, his lips parted - though, Geralt noted, his skin did not flush.

It took but a short minute for Geralt to decide he’d rather have his mouth on him. Not knowing what the witcher was up to, Jaskier reached for him the instant his finger withdrew, tail whipping to the side as Geralt slid down it. But then Geralt was kissing the top of his slit, and Jaskier was letting out a soft “oh” and clawing at the bottom of the nest to try to keep still.

He was glad for the effort. Every jostle that had him shifting forward chafed his bare skin, Jaskier’s scales rough. But the discomfort was worth it when he dipped his tongue in to taste the creature beneath him, as he felt Jaskier’s muscles tightening under his hands.

There was nothing quite like eating a partner out. Feeling Jaskier slick up as he tugged him open with one hand, delving his tongue in as far as he could, eyes closed with a pleased rumble in his chest as he just listened and felt Jaskier’s reactions to him. Nose soon buried in him as well, slick on his lips and chin, fingers slipping down to work into the spot Jaskier had told him to fuck.

Something nudged against his tongue. It was hot and just as slick as the rest of his slit. Geralt pulled back just a touch, opening his eyes to find the tapered tip of what must have been Jaskier’s cock peeking out at him.

“Don’t stop.”

Jaskier was breathless. His eyes heavy and half-lidded, sharp teeth shining in the low light as he panted. The plea was nothing more than a whisper, his tail quivering as his cock slid out just a touch more.

Catching his gaze, Geralt leaned back down and licked a wide, slow stripe over the head of his cock. He saw the hitch of his breath, saw as he clenched his abdomen, and wished for the first time in his life he had any talent for the arts.

The siren deserved to be immortalized in that moment. Hair damp and sticking to his forehead, scales shimmering in the moonlight, claws scraping the driftwood and making it splinter. He was anything but human despite his pretty face, and it made him all the more beautiful.

Geralt coaxed his cock out further with his tongue until he could wrap his lips around its tip. A whimper escaped Jaskier as he did, and as Geralt swirled his tongue around its head he slicked up two fingers and worked them as deep into Jaskier’s hole as he could.

He desperately wished they had the patience for him to fully explore every crevice Jaskier had, every sensitive bundle of nerves he could possibly get his fingers on. But the siren was practically writhing beneath him as it was, his cock fully out and demanding Geralt’s attention. It was delicious on his tongue, thin and long and slick enough he’d be tempted to try to ride Jaskier if he hadn’t had to hike back to the village after.

Really, he could have used Jaskier’s slick as oil. The thought made his cock jerk, a bead of precum dribbling down his shaft, but he tossed the thought aside with the wistful thought of next time.

There was no guarantee of a next time, but he desperately wished there would be. He took the rest of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth, flinching when Jaskier’s hand shot out and gripped his hair too hard, nails scraping against his scalp a little too roughly. It was followed with a quick apology, clawed fingers running through his hair and giving a gentler tug that made Geralt moan around his cock.

His hand was practically dripping with slick as he worked a third finger into him. Tongue running against the underside of Jaskier’s cock as he bobbed his head, moving back to suck lightly on the tip and swirl his tongue around it before pressing it against the slit, tasting the precum that had started to drool steadily out of him. As he slid back down on his cock, he hummed around him, hearing Jaskier babble something out that he couldn’t understand.

Slipping his fingers out, Geralt moved back up his tail - and hissed as Jaskier’s scales scraped his thighs up. The siren’s hands were on him, smoothing over his legs in apology as Geralt moved more carefully into what he hoped was the best position to fuck him in.

Should’ve kept his pants on, though they would have been worn a bit thin after. Still, with that thought he leaned over and grabbed at his shirt, snatching it up and placing it between his thighs and those torturous (if beautiful) scales.

Taking his own cock in hand, Geralt couldn’t help but pump it a few times, gazing down at the siren laid out before him. His skin had still not flushed but he was a sight anyway, with his cock hanging out and slick glistening against his scales. It was obscene, it was beautiful, and Geralt couldn’t wait any longer to get his dick in him.

“Please,” Jaskier gasped, a word Geralt recognized finally slipping from his lips. A surge of magic tingled against his skin, and it occurred to him that Jaskier had to make a conscious effort to make sure others could understand him. It certainly explained why his melodic notes were unintelligible as Geralt rubbed the head of his cock against his slit, slicking himself up and teasing the siren that was squirming for him.

“Desperation looks good on you.”

He looked like he was going to argue, or was trying to argue, even as he reached out and clung to Geralt too tightly. But his words weren’t focused, made no sense to Geralt’s ears, and his eyes rolled back as Geralt pressed just a little harder into him.

“Can’t- I can’t do this myself.” Eventually, Jaskier managed the words, his hands shaking where they gripped Geralt’s hips. “Claws, I can’t- it’s been so long, please, I want this, I want-”

When Geralt finally slid into him, Jaskier’s head dropped back, his words cut off by a long, moaned note. He squeezed around Geralt beautifully, wet and hot and greedy. In one smooth motion, Geralt was buried in him, his nostrils flaring and eyes shut tight as he tried to get used to being inside of him.

He shook with the effort to not immediately thrust into him. To fuck him fast and hard, too fast, end it all too quickly. Already his knot was swelling with interest and he bit his lip, focusing on his breathing and his own heartbeat to calm himself down.

Once he felt like he wouldn’t come too soon, he ground his hips against the beautiful creature trapped between his thighs. Jaskier left out a soft groan, claws gently scraping against Geralt’s skin, his long cock glistening and tempting Geralt to touch it. But he resisted the temptation, gripping Jaskier where his hips would have been, grinding into him with his own jaw slack and his breaths puffing out short and quick.

Then, slowly, he pulled out until just the tip of his cock was pressed into his slit. Jaskier whined as Geralt rubbed himself over his hole, over part of his cock, the witcher shivering at the easy, slick glide. His cock caught on Jaskier’s hole and Geralt hissed as Jaskier’s claws bit into his thighs, drawing blood, but the siren was too desperate to apologize.

But the bite of his claws was just another reminder of the creature he had beneath him. Geralt bared his teeth and snapped his hips forward, burying himself into the siren without warning, and reveled in how the creature writhed under him.

He had no patience for taking his time after that. Not with Jaskier practically sucking him in, not with the obscene wet noises that echoed in the cave as he snapped his hips with another sharp thrust. Jaskier clenched around him, begging with his body while his words failed him, his magic making Geralt’s medallion hum against his chest but his words were a nonsense song that grew in pitch and volume.

Geralt set a brutal pace, chasing his own pleasure. Blood running hot, sweat beading at his neck, his hair sticking to his face. He grunted and moaned, low and deep, as Jaskier clenched hard around him. The siren’s song turned into a practical wail, claws desperate to find purchase on Geralt’s slick skin and they left angry marks in their wake.

Knot swelling with every thrust, Geralt reached between them, grasping Jaskier’s cock with a firm grip and making the siren sing his name. It took just a few strokes to make his back arch, his song cut off as he came hard, coating both their chests and Geralt’s hand in his watery seed.

A growl tore out of Geralt’s throat at the sight. The creature slack jawed yet held taut like a string that only he could cut. His hair tousled, chest hair sticky with cum, his cock still drooling where it was caught in Geralt’s fist. Geralt wanted to bite him, wanted to kiss him breathless, wanted to lick him clean and knot him and fuck him until he couldn’t swim straight.

With Jaskier squeezing him so tightly, Geralt didn’t last much longer. His thrusts stuttering, his knot catching on Jaskier’s hole, fingers digging into Jaskier’s skin hard enough to leave bruises. He threw his head back with a quiet moan, eyes shut tight, grinding into the pretty sea creature beneath him as he filled him with his come.

Fuck. Geralt struggled to breathe, his whole body tense, legs shaking. Pleasure raked through him like a beast, leaving his vision blurry and his ears ringing with his own heartbeat. On some level he recognized hands were soothing over him - his thighs, his stomach, his chest - but not much else registered to him.

It was a fight to come back to himself. Force his eyes to stay open, his head to lull back so he could see his siren. Jaskier, who was lazing back with a far too pleased with himself look on his face, and a calming tune gracing his lips as he petted his witcher.

“You were beautiful,” the creature cooed at him, and all Geralt managed was a grunt back at him. He let Jaskier pull him down into his arms, ear pressed to the siren’s chest as he waited for his knot to let him go.

Come morning, with a soft breeze blowing through his hair and the sun rising over the sea, Geralt tried to put thoughts of the siren out of his mind. He made his way back up the rocky path towards the beach, catching brilliant colored fins flicking out of the water out of his periphery - but he didn’t think about Jaskier, or the soft words (“Come back and see me”) that were whispered against his hair.

The soft, languid kisses they shared were not on his mind as he skirted around the town’s streets once more. He went to the inn and let its keeper know the beast was gone, ignoring her sharp eye and refusing the coin she tried to give as payment.

In the end, he accepted bread and cheese instead, and her final jar of preserves were shoved into his hands without any room for him to protest.

Roach was mad at him, snorting and jerking her head away with her nostrils flared when he tried to fetch her from the stable. She nipped at his hands and snorted again - and Geralt noticed her eyes were wide with fear.

“It’s alright, it’s just me.” He ran a steady hand over her neck, though it was likely the siren’s scent on him that set her off. Still, she calmed enough eventually for him to saddle her, and soon they were off and away from the village.

Their path ran south, away from the coast, but he didn’t bother with a glance back over his shoulder - why would he when he’d already promised to be back by the month’s end.

A brief explanation of things not explicitly stated in the fic:

The innkeeper was ace, which is why Jaskier's songs had no effect on her.

Sirens lure horses to the sea and turn them into kelpies (my own canon for this fic). Thankfully, instead of being tempted by his songs, Roach was instead deathly afraid of him.

@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @blooodymoon @kan0chan @silvermintnightprincess @flowercrown-bard @sharinalein @concussed-dragon @hayleynzlive @feral-jaskier @sweetiepieplum @stonedstargazer666 @deafeningnightcollection-things @luteandsword @kmuir1 @little-boats-on-a-lake @dani-dandelino @rurousha @renewlucifer @deadwolfdonoteat

#geraskier #the witcher #mywriting #fanfiction #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfic #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #lemony #geralt #jaskier

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relcollins · 7 days

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"The Night of the Declaration" part 2

(2) “Westonia’s railway station is charming, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen? And very modern it is too, you’ll find,” Leroy Wyatt explained. “We’ll take the carriage to the Manor, and some of Mr Weston’s grooms will come and bring your horses along shortly. I hope that will be agreeable to you both? Don’t worry, the grooms are excellent with horses and will take good care of yours.”

“Thank you, we appreciate Mr Weston’s consideration” Jim agreed, looking at Artie and seeing his nod of agreement. “He seems to have thought of everything.” Artie smiled and murmured his thanks.

The Manor was indeed only a few miles further along the main road, and the carriage ride was as comfortable as carriage rides could be, the road was remarkably smooth, and the time passed as the conversation between the three men went through the usual pleasantries before getting to the main topic.

“This is a marvellously-appointed carriage” Artie declared, “and it has afforded us a very nice view of the countryside around here which is, I must say, quite unexpectedly picturesque.” Jim nodded in agreement.

“Mr Fortescue has a justifiably renowned carriage works in town, and his company has sent carriages all around the country, so I’m sure he’ll appreciate your compliments, gentlemen” Leroy smiled.

“Does Mr Fortescue Weston own everything we’ve seen so far?” Jim and Artie looked questioningly at Wyatt.

“He, or should I say his family, originally owned twenty square miles of prime land here, which included the area which is now the town of Florence, and still owns the whole township of Westonia, plus a bit more besides. Florence was given over to the city fathers who run the place now, but he retains Westonia and pretty well everything in it, although outside commerce is permitted, encouraged even.” Wyatt said, approval in his voice. “The Westons are a great and good family.” Jim and Artie shot a look at each other and said nothing.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. Old Man Weston, back a couple of generations, came out here with a band of settlers and staked a claim to the land, and since he was the one with the money he took charge, and the town grew and flourished. I think it’s unique in these parts, and maybe the whole country, that the Weston family, and now Mr Fortescue, set it up as somewhere that looks after its residents, and he has got it so that everyone is employed and doing something purposeful. You’ll see when we get there that the folks are very contented to be there.” Wyatt’s face reflected his approval of the arrangement.

“If it’s all so peachy, then, why are we here? What is the fly in the ointment in perfect little Westonia?” Artie said, trying to keep a cynical edge out of his voice.

“Why do you think you’re here?” Wyatt countered.

“Well,” Jim replied, “The President said we had to come out and help Mr Fortescue Weston with a serious problem he was having, but he didn’t articulate anything other than to tell us to keep our eyes and ears open, ask a lot of questions, and see for ourselves if what Mr Weston felt was wrong was, in fact, wrong.”

“Yes, that is probably a good summation, “ Wyatt acknowledged. “A newcomer, in relative terms, has moved in and upset the applecart, and, well…people are not happy, Mr Weston especially. He feels strongly about the welfare of his people here, and is very agitated that things are, shall we say, unsettled.” He looked out the carriage window a moment, then turned to Jim and Artie to ask “did you know that the President and Mr Fortescue were great friends back when the President was a younger man, in West Point? Mr Fortescue stood by him in some of President Grant’s darker times, and they have always kept in contact. This is the first time Mr Fortescue has ever asked for help.”

#TNOT Declaration part 2

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thavampress · 1 year

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A Court of Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC!femTargaryen

Masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Three

~Aemond~

Aegon sat across from Aemond, his feet up on the table between them. He swirled the goblet of wine he held, sniffing in discontent.

The room was quiet, as it was just Aemond and Aegon. They were in Aegon’s chambers, meeting as they’d grown accustomed too. A strange byproduct of the war was a reconciliation between Aemond and his older brother. After so much loss over something neither of them completely supported, they’d learned they shared a mutual understanding of one another.

Aemond nursed his own wine as Aegon drained a third cup. “What do you make of your betrothed?” Aegon asked. “She has grown quite attractive, has she not?”

Aemond laughed through his nose. “She is quite something.”

“Oh please, I am sure you look forward to your wedding night,” Aegon chuckled, pouring himself another cup.

“Tsk tsk, brother,” Aemond replied, taking a deep drink for himself. “She has a certain fire about her, I suppose.”

“Well that’s very Targaryen of her.”

“I find myself strangely…drawn to her,” Aemond said hesitantly. “Not just in wanting to bed her. I feel we are the same, in a way.”

“Very poetic as usual, brother,” Aegon smiled, reaching across the table to snatch a grape of out a bowl between them.

Aemond hummed. “She said she would not hold her brother’s death against me.”

“Well, your future wife is very forgiving then,” Aegon replied.

“No, not forgiving,” Aemond corrected. “Something else entirely.”

“Like what?” Aegon asked, popping another grape in his mouth.

“That,” Aemond said, reaching for the wine pitcher to refill his own goblet, “remains to be seen, dear brother.”

“Are you looking forward to your party?” Aegon was mocking now, knowing full well Aemond preferred to avoid feasts and fancy where he could.

Aemond rolled his eye in response. “I only hope it improves everyone’s shit mood.”

“I for one, shall indeed enjoy the festivities all in your honor,” Aegon said, lifting his cup. “For there’s no better place for a drink and a fuck than a feast.”

“You may wish to consider sobering up then, brother,” Aemond suggested, standing from the table. “Your big moment in is less than eight hours.”

Aemond left his goblet half full on the table, taking his leave of Aegon’s chambers.

~Saesha~

Saesha awoke that morning with dread pooling in her stomach. She had loathed feasts and parties when her own family hosted them, let alone the snakes of the Red Keep.

This evening’s event was the first of the three-night celebrations leading up to her wedding to Aemond. She could hardly believe that it was actually happening. But something had shifted, she could tell. Ever since Aemond’s appearance in her chambers, she noticed him lingering.

Whenever she was with Alicent putting anything together for the wedding, he’d suddenly appear to check on his mother. When she sat with some ladies in the garden yesterday afternoon (not by choice, but in decorum), Aemond happened to be taking a stroll himself.

She even caught him looking at her differently. His air of disinterest seemed to have holes poked in it. His gaze was too intent. She found herself drawn to Aemond as well, and even though she swore not to feel guilty for the marriage she’d been shoved into, she couldn’t help but feel wrong for it.

Saesha opted to stay in bed that morning. When the servants came in to bathe and dress her she groaned, burying her face in the pillows.

“Princess, you must bathe,” one servant pleaded. “We will need sufficient time to prepare you for this evening.”

“Hours to twist my hair into knots, you mean?” Saesha replied, sitting up in bed with a huff. She didn’t mean to be so snippy, but there was something about being forced to attend this feast like prized horse that made the all-to-familiar anger bubble under her skin.

Alicent had been nice enough, but Saesha wasn’t quick to forget, and she certainly wasn’t handing out forgiveness.

After a bit more gentle encouraging, the servants finally got her into the hot bath tub, steaming with oils of mint and lemon. Saesha sighed as she sank into the tub, the hot water spreading chill bumps over skin. One of the servants washed her long silver hair until it shone like metal and smelled like fresh mint leaves. Saesha liked the cool scent, for some reason it reminded her of Dragonstone.

When she was scrubbed clean, the servants dried her and dressed her in a flowing silk robe that was a deep red. It was a beautiful thing, she had to admit. She sat at her vanity once again as the maids braided her hair into an elaborate net that seemed to cover the back of her head. The rest of her hair hung in loose curls down her shoulders.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen,” the guard at the door announced suddenly.

Aemond strode in, a long box in his hands. He bowed, and Saesha rolled her eyes. “I bring a gift,” he said.

“Leave us,” Saesha sighed. The staff shuffled out quickly.

Aemond set the box down on the little circular table beside him. “So sorry to bother, princess,” he said sarcastically.

“What it is?” Saesha asked, ignoring him and instead focusing on the box.

“Open it,” he said, smiling. “Though if I’m honest, I cannot take credit. It is truly from my mother.”

Saesha stood from the vanity and crossed the room to the table and Aemond standing beside it. She did her very best to seem entirely interested in the box.

She refused to be guilty, but she also refused to give him the satisfaction.

Saesha plucked the lid from the box, revealing a folded up gown in the most stunning, deep emerald green. She hesitated before lifting it out. It had beading along the bodice that almost looked like flames licking up the dress.

“It is beautiful,” she commented softly. When she looked up at Aemond, she caught him taking in the red silk robe she was wearing.

“Indeed,” Aemond said, forcing himself to look at the dress in her hands. “My mother thought you could wear it in honor of my dearly departed sister.”

Ah, yes, Saesha remembered. Her parents had launched a plot to murder Aegon’s children in retribution for Lucerys’ death. Aemond’s sister, Helaena, had thrown herself from the highest tower of the Keep as a result of the loss of her children.

Saesha clenched her jaw. “Why would she want me to honor her, of all people?”

Aemond’s face was hard now. “I do not know.”

There was a moment of stillness, and Aemond did not look away from her.

“It is a lovely gown,” Saesha said finally. “And I am sorry, for what happened to your sister. It was not right.”

Aemond did not respond, but his features softened a bit.

“Why did you bring it to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you bring me the dress? Why not have a servant bring it?” Saesha asked, laying the dress back in the box.

Aemond pondered, that familiar hum resonating from him. “I suppose I wished to see you before the feast tonight,” he answered. “I am not completely sure why.”

Saesha had to smile. “Well I am glad you came. I suppose I should wish you good luck.”

“And to you, princess,” Aemond said with a bow of his head. He turned to leave then.

“Aemond,” Saesha called, halting him at the door, “perhaps we can meet in the training yard tomorrow morning? I promise no hidden daggers.”

“You wish to train with me again?” He seemed incredulous.

“As I said, why should I have to be miserable? Why should either of us? We are to be married in three days, I ought to be able to manage a sparring session.”

“Deal, princess,” he said, a handsome smirk arching his lips. “Though I will fetch you from your chambers, like a damned gentleman.”

She laughed as he exited with a dramatic slam of her door.

Saesha stood outside of the throne room doors, flanked by kingsguard. Her emerald gown fit her perfectly, and was modest enough for Alicent’s taste. She fussed with the sleeve, rich lace flowing down her arms. She could hear the commotion of the crowd inside. She knew Aemond was already seated at the head table, all them were. She was to enter last, to be presented to the court officially as Aemond’s betrothed.

Finally, three loud booms thumped from inside, and she heard Aegon addressing the crowd.

“I am happy to present…” The heavy doors open, and every noble eye is upon her. “…Princess Saesha Targaryen, true born daughter to Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond stood beside his brother at the head table.

“Let us toast to my brothers soon to be bride, and finally uniting House Targaryen after so much strife.”

The room erupting into a cheer, everyone raising their cups to her and the King. Saesha was honestly impressed that Aegon made the speech. He was generally disinterested in any kingly act outside of drinking and fucking whatever he pleased with impunity. Perhaps he did it for his brother.

Aemond smiled down at her as she approached the table, admiring her pretty green dress. He walked around it, meeting her at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the throne. He took her hand and lead her back to their seats, as was customary.

Aegon leaned forward, capturing both her and Aemond’s attention once they were both seated. “Do I have permission to enjoy myself now, brother?”

Aemond scoffed, “You are the king.”

Aegon grinned, standing from his seat again. He raised his goblet, “To my brother, you bastard. And to Saesha, his lovely bride, perhaps you could bring him some joy. Though what he could truly use is thorough fuck-“

“Thank you for the sentiments, Aegon,” Aemond interrupted.

Aegon only laughed, trotting down the steps and disappearing into the crowd occupying the dance floor. Aemond rolled his eye with a chuckle, taking a deep drunk from his cup.

Saesha filled her own goblet. Aemond eyed her with a slight smile.

“Are you accustomed to drinking, princess?” He asked.

She rolled her violet eyes, lifting her cup to her lips and tipping it back slowing, gulping down the entirety of it. She set the goblet down firmly in front of her, licking her lips before grinning up at Aemond.

“It’s our feast, princeling,” she announced, reaching for the pitcher to refill her cup, “we must celebrate as adequately as everyone else.”

~Aemond~

Aemond stared at her, smiling. Truly smiling. He felt a slight buzz from the wine he’d had prior to the feast, on top of the cup he’d consumed at the table.

Saesha Targaryen was a vision tonight. Her dress left all to the imagination, as his mother ensured, yet it still accentuated everything perfectly. Her silver hair was braided elegantly in their ancestral fashion. She was a worthy bride, and Aemond felt grateful for that. Everyone else ranked beneath her.

He watched her take another deep drink of wine as a tiny droplet escaped the corner of her mouth. Aemond found himself fight the urge to swipe it away. Saesha reached a ring-clad hand up, wiping it away herself with her middle finger.

“Pardon me,” she smiled.

Aemond found suddenly that the wine was going to his head, because he felt urged to lean down and kiss her. He didn’t think she’d appreciate that very much. Though she had teased him that day in her chambers, and she’d been consistent in saying she planned on attempting to enjoy their marriage.

Without really knowing what he was doing, Aemond stood. Saesha gazed up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise as Aemond held out his hand.

“Dance with me, princess.”

She grinned, taking another swig from her cup and taking him firmly by the hand. Some of guests clapped as the walked onto the dance floor. Saesha ignored them, he noticed, only ever looking right at him.

The musicians started an upbeat song, and the line of lords and ladies ensued in a dance. Aemond watched her as they stepped forward and spun and did it again. On the third turn, Aemond saw that wicked grin appear on her face. Her steps became more bouncy, until she was jumping around in circles, dramatically motioning the steps of the dance.

Aemond couldn’t help but laugh. She took both his hands then, and began spinning them both around. She looked utterly free—face flushed and cracked with a genuine smile.

They halted with the song, and Aemond noticed some of the court eyeing them with questioning glares. He couldn’t care less. Even before the Dance, he never concerned himself with the chatters and opinions of the castle—or otherwise.

The crowd resumed around them as another tune began. Saesha led the way back toward the table. It was empty now.

“Do you want to eat?” Aemond asked.

She shook her head.

“You really should eat, princess.”

“Oh would you stop calling me princess,” she sighed, suddenly very close to him.

“You should eat something so you’re not ill on the morrow, Saesha,” he corrected.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her eyes were red and glassy from the wine.

“I think I’d like to leave,” she said in quiet Valyrian.

“Where would you like to be instead?” He replied in the same tongue.

She was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Somewhere quiet,” she decided.

Aemond scanned the room, looking for his mother. He didn’t find her. Otto Hightower stood at the far end of the room observing the dance floor while speaking to some Lord Lannister.

He took her by the arm, leading her up the stairs to the throne, passing the mass of swords and out the door looming behind it. It was immediately dark, and so much quieter. He let go if her arm, but quickly felt her hand grabbing at his. He smiled to himself in the darkness.

He led the way until they came out the other end and into torch light. The corridor that stretched to either side of them was empty, and a wide balcony overlooking the sea was in front of them. Saesha took the lead now, walking out into the moonlight. Aemond followed.

She took a deep breath, pointing her face to the sky with her eyes gently closed.

Ethereal.

Aemond didn’t know what was happening to him. Never had he been so captured by any woman, never had he been so distracted. It felt strange the she was truly to be his wife.

“How do you really feel about all this?” Aemond blurted.

She opened her eyes, looking at him with a hint of curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he replied. “How does it make you feel to be marrying me in two days? To live here in King’s Landing?”

She looked out at the dark sea, shrugging. “I suppose I feel indifferent, now. I used to be very angry, but it’s exhausting to be so angry all the time.”

“Do you miss Dragonstone?” He ventured a bit further.

She nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “I do. I enjoyed flying over those bluffs. I like the castle as well, and the land was good for exploring.”

There was a comfortable pause, the distant sound of waves crashing far below. “We could go and be at Dragonstone, if that’s what you wanted? There’s no one there to claim it, and it’s ours—yours by right. I’m the second-son, there’s no reason to stay.”

He didn’t really know why he was offering this. Aemond didn’t want to live at Dragonstone, he’d prefer to remain in King’s Landing with remnants of his family. But maybe it would make Saesha happy. It’s not like he couldn’t just fly back if he needed to.

Saesha looked at him with what looked like genuine endearment. Her eyes were glossy and she held her clasped hands up to her chest. She took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.

Aemond breathed slowly, trying to remain calm at their sudden proximity. She gazed up at him, and Aemond felt the last bits of his restraint beginning to tear. Much to his relief—and enormous surprise—it was Saesha who leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were as soft as he’d anticipated, and the way they moved against his had him suppressing a growl. He cupped her cheeks with both hands, angling her face toward his. She sighed happily into his mouth, standing on her tip-toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Aemond gave in only for a moment, indulging himself, before forcing himself to pull away.

Her lips were swollen, and her face was flushed. She looked up at him with confusion, and a little bit of disappointment. “I shall wait to explore you until after our wedding,” he said.

Saesha groaned, rolling her pretty violet eyes. “You seriously want to be traditional? After everything that led us here?”

“If you think about it,” he said, smirking, “we’re being about as traditional as we could get. We’re marrying each other in the custom of our House, and in a more Westerosi manner, we’ve been arranged together for political gain.”

Saesha’s annoyance cracked with a smile. They remained on the balcony for a long while, talking, catching up, learning what the war had made of each other.

Aemond walked her to her chambers, bidding her a good night before retiring himself. He went to bed that night relieved, and feeling capable handling tomorrows tourney.

-TAGLIST-

@hopebaker

@snh96

@kaelatargaryen

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x oc #house of the dragon #aemond x targaryen! reader #aemond x Targaryen

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minaramen · 2 years

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Gaku Yaotome - 16 Idol Album - Part 1: 16 Idol Album

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Kaoru:...and so, since the “Welcome to the kids room” project had great popularity, they want to hear your story again

Kaoru: They’re planning to go deeper on your childhood stories. I want to hear your opinion before deciding whether to accept the offer or not

Tenn:...you mean the renewal program for the 6th anniversary of Rabbity kun, right?

Gaku: Yeah, the one where we had to bring pictures from our childhood. There were pretty unexpected ones, it was an interesting project

Ryunosuke: Yes, I feel like we had as much fun as the fans in joining that project!

Kaoru: Well, I haven't gotten the details yet, but apparently now they want to discover the roots of your current selves by looking at an episode from your childhood

Kaoru: The roots of your current selves. When I come to think about it, I feel like the world can’t live without your participation

Tenn: We didn’t live as idols from the very beginning

Tenn: It must be something that makes people understand what we do to live as TRIGGER, and meet our fans

Tenn: If we have the chance to add this to last time’s content, count me in

Ryunosuke: If it’s okay with Tenn, I’d like to join!

Ryunosuke: They want to see our natural selves, not the three of us wrapped in cellophane

Gaku: So we’re being asked to add a memory to the picture we showed before, right?

Gaku: It’s fine with me. I think this is also the reason why my father took that picture of me

Kaoru: Okay, I can see a large consensus from you. Apparently Idolish7, Re:Vale and Zool will join the project as well. I’m expecting your stories to win over the others’!

Gaku: Of course, we won’t lose. We can count on the gap of a little slender Ryuu and a picnic version of Tenn, after all

Tenn: Me? How about the little version of such a grown man like you, falling down and getting injured? I think this is quite a nice gap as well

Ryunosuke: W-we’re still complimenting each other, right?

Kaoru: All your pictures were very child-like, indeed. I mean, you definitely weren’t riding a white horse…

Trigger: A white horse??

Ryunosuke: A-anyway…we need to properly think about what story to tell

Gaku: Yes. Especially you need to pay extra attention again, Tenn, since there’s Nanase as well

Tenn:.....I know. I’ll talk to Riku again

Tenn: How about you? Do you still remember why you fell down in detail?

Gaku: Shut up! Children can fall down in the middle of an empty space as well! It’s not that important!

Ryunosuke: Hey, don’t fight…!

Ryunosuke: I wonder if I will disappoint our fans, talking too much about such a common person…

Gaku: What are you talking about, Ryuu? I want to know more about the child you were and how he became the nice guy we know

Tenn: And I’m sure it’s the same for our fans. Everything will be alright, Ryuu. They love you just the way you are

Ryunosuke:....yes. There is a kind of invisible bond between us

Ryunosuke: I feel even more excited about this project!

Kaoru: Yes. We’ve always been helped by fans.

Kaoru: So, let’s get into this project!

Trigger: Yes!

*Cut to a dressing room*

???: Hey, what are you doing? Wandering around like that!

???: Wah..! D- don’t be so noisy…

Gaku *thinking*: What’s going on? They’re making quite the ruckus outside…

Gaku *thinking*: There’s still time before the recordings, I wonder if a staff member is coming to tell me something

???: Just get in, hurry!

???: Ah, wait! I should at least knock..

Gaku: These voices…

*Knock knock*

Gaku:..mpf. Yes, come in

*Door opens*

Tamaki: Yo, Gakkun! We came to say hi!

Sogo: I’m so glad to work with you, today. I’m looking forward to Yaotome san talking about his favorite food shops during the program

Gaku: Ah, I figured it was the two of you. I’m glad to have you here today as well

Tamaki: You figured?

Gaku: Yeah. I heard your voices pretty well

Sogo: I deeply apologize…! We were so inconsiderate, even though we were in front of the dressing room

Gaku: Ahah, don’t worry about that. It’s weird, though, I had the impression there was another person with you…

Haruka:....He-hello…

Tamaki: Wah! Isumin! What are you doing behind my back?!

Gaku: Ah, it was you. I’m glad to see you here today

Haruka: S-same…

Sogo: Haruka kun, you were walking back and forth in front of the dressing room. Did you also come here to say hi?

Haruka: I-I wasn't walking back and forth! I was just…waiting for the right moment!

Sogo: Oh, you were nervous. I understand how you feel, it was the same for me at first….

Gaku: I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of it! You too, Osaka. I’d tell you if I were busy, so don’t hesitate next time you have to knock on my door

Sogo&Haruka: T-thank you so much…!

Tamaki: Ahah, Isumin is turning into Sou chan

Tamaki: ….ah, Gakkun! What are you going to talk about, today?

Gaku: I want to introduce a Thai restaurant I got into recently. Apparently if we answer the quiz question right we get a free tasting, so let’s give it our best

Tamaki: What kind of Thai food?

Gaku: Khao Man Gai. I always eat Japanese food, but I got curious about that place and I decided to give it a try. And, well, it was definitely a good idea

Tamaki: Khao Man gai…sounds like a strong one!

Haruka: Ahahah, it sounds like a dinosaur’s name

Sogo: Khao Man Gai is a dish made with chicken and boiled rice

Tamaki: Ah, chicken! Is it good?

Gaku: It’s delicious! I could make it at home, but I’m too passionate about that shop’s amazing sauce now

Tamaki: Aah…you made me feel so hungry! I want to eeeeat!

Haruka: No matter how many times you repeat “I want to eeeeeat”; we still have to give the correct answers to get the food!

Tamaki: Ah, right. Give it your best, Isumin

Haruka: T-that’s something you should say to yourself, right?! The other day Izumi literally told you to properly study for the test!

Sogo: Aah..as expected, an all-night cram session probably wasn’t enough…

Gaku: Ahah, you seem to like each other. You’re schoolmates, right?

Tamaki: We’re classmates! But we like physical education more than studying. The other day we really went all out playing dodgeball!

Haruka: Ah, the class match? That was a very good one!

Sogo: You talked about it at the dormitory as well. You showed good team work with Iori kun and you led your team to victory

Tamaki: Humpf. The MVP was me

Haruka: Not true, it was me! It was me who hit the last two with the ball!

Tamaki:....but, if Iorin hadn’t caught the ball as it came towards him, we wouldn’t have been able to attack back

Haruka:....yeah, I guess you’re right

Gaku: Well, everybody was the ace. That’s cool

Sogo: You were pretty good at it too, in the project we did some time ago

Sogo: You caught every single ball, and you were very fast at throwing it back

Tamaki: You were very good at it too, Sou chan. I was freaking out at that faint you pulled

Sogo: Ah, yes, it’s something I did…since it was my first time playing that game, I wasn’t confident I could do a good job

Gaku: The first time? Didn’t you play it at school?

Sogo: I didn’t have lessons like that …We didn’t even play in the schoolyard during recess

Sogo: Did you play it often, Yaotome san?

Gaku: Yeah…I was a very mischievous boy. I used to take any match or competition I happened to face head on

Tamaki: You look like somebody who would remain on the battlefield until the very end! I bet you were the guy who never avoided a ball coming towards him, and caught them all!

Haruka: Yeah, the scary guy you’d always want in your team and never on the opposite one…

Gaku: Well, in the class next to mine there was a pretty good dodgeball player as well

Gaku: He had a technique where he'd throw the ball very far, spinning faster and faster, and when it hit you it hurt as hell. So, everybody avoided that guy

Haruka: Izumi often throws spinning balls. You can’t really understand where the ball will end up, so it's hard to catch it

Tamaki: Iorin has plenty of throwing techniques. He said he uses one or another depending on the opponent he has to take down

Tamaki: Did you also get hit, Gakkun?

Gaku: Well, running away is pretty humiliating, so I tried catching it every time

Gaku: Basically, it always ended in a fight to the death between me and that guy. How nostalgic…!

Sogo: Ah,I was sure of it…! You never give up, Yaotome san, you’re so cool! Just like the main character from Tamaki kun’s sport manga

Gaku: It’s nothing special. But yeah, I had the impression that even the athletic festival was nothing but a competition between us. No matter if it was boutaoshi* or a mock cavalry battle, it was always the same thing

Gaku: And I definitely didn’t want to lose, especially when it came to relay races. So, I always arranged meetings with the rest of the team to practice and lecture those who were bad at running

Haruka: Wow…you really took it seriously. Being lectured by Yaotome after school…

Gaku: I was busy, sure, but since I had so much fun I didn’t really mind. The most important thing to me was to not cut corners in a competition…

Gaku: Also, my father used to get angry and ask me “So, are you satisfied with second place??”

Tamaki: So your dad has always been so spartan, Gakkun?

Gaku:...I can’t say he was kind. Since I was a kid, whenever I fell down, he always told me “Get up by yourself” and never lent a hand

Haruka: Eeh, he'd treat a kid like that…?!

Gaku: Ahah, I bet you’re pretty shocked. Like, what kind of father is that?

Gaku: Even when I conquered first place he never told me “good boy”, he never stroked my head like the other parents did with their children…well, whatever, I don’t care

Tamaki: I see…it's not something one should take for granted, right? Having a father doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be kind to you

Sogo&Haruka:..........

Gaku: Ah,sorry for bringing up such an awkward topic!

Gaku: I wasn’t a boy who yearned for compliments myself, so that’s okay. If I grew up as a spoiled kid I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I think I would have batted away any hand trying to stroke my head

Gaku: Back then, I used to sulk because damn, he could have used better words! Now, I think I kinda understand the reason why he said what he said. He was probably trying to raise me in his own way

Sogo: Coming to terms with your feelings must have been difficult, at that time…was it? I felt like there was nothing I could do, so I just gave up…

Gaku: What the heck are you talking about? You faced it together with your partner! You were very cool that day, at the radio!

Gaku: I managed to gain some confidence from your strength

Sogo:....Yaotome san….

Haruka:..that strength you’re talking about, I mean…how was it born?

Gaku: Nobody is born strong. It’s something I can talk only talk about after going through lot of things and overcoming them

Gaku:...in that sense, I could even say that my father trained me somehow

End of part 1

TL Notes:

Boutaoshi: a capture-the-flag-like game, which students play on sport days at school

#Idolish7 #idolish7translation #gaku yaotome #16idolalbum

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caissa-scribbles · 1 year

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The Princess in the Ivory Tower (part 1/4)

Gajevy Week 2023, Day 1: Fairy Tale

"Once upon a time in a faraway country there was a wise old king whose only child was a daughter.

The princess was lovely but very shy. She adored nothing more than books, thus she spent all of her time in the ivory tower of the castle where there was a big library. The king loved her so much that he couldn't bring himself to force her to leave her sanctuary. Therefore she spent a secluded life dwelling happily in her stories and legends.

But as the years went by and the king was getting older, he started to worry about the future of his child and his kingdom. Who would take care of them when his time had come to leave the world?

As the princess's 17th birthday was nigh, he finally made a decision.

Soon the tidings were spread across every country that the wise old king was holding a contest to find a worthy successor who would gain half his riches and his daughter's hand as a reward and who would become king after him. Every young nobleman and knight willing to compete was invited, and they poured into the kingdom from near and far.

It was in the remotest corner of a gloomy inn that a wandering knight got word of the news, too.

Surely my readers would have loved him to be your archetypical knight-errant, travelling the country in shining armour to test his chivalric ideals or strive for courtly love, helping everyone in need solely to gain fame and honour.

Alas, he wasn't.

Our knight was indeed a roving fighter and a mage who had made himself a name as the Road Knight. But he didn't care for ideals or a good reputation at all.

He only cared for gold.

Yet news are a curious thing. They tend to be tweaked and twisted a bit every time they are told, especially when word is passed by mouth.

Thus it happened that our knight heard about a contest a king from a faraway land was holding, some kind of tournament with a splendid reward, and he decided to take part in it. He was broke once more, and it seemed a fairly easy way to earn some money.

So he mounted his faithful black horse and set off for the journey.

The contest was meant to last three days. When the opening day came, the castle court was buzzing both with spectators and aspirants longing to see the beautiful princess whose hand was the noble prize.

Only the princess couldn't be persuaded to descend from her library.

She did not want to witness the trial which was held for the sake of her future.

She despised her father's idea of reducing her to a mere trophy for some narcissistic wannabe hero.

But being a princess, she had no choice anyway.

The king now welcomed the competitors alone, of whom three dozen had arrived, and within an hour the first task was about to start.

The candidates had to showcase their talent as fighters, as a king needed to be able to protect his kingdom and everyone living within its borders. Therefore the hopeful young men had to face the commander of the king's guard, the strongest fighter of all, who was known as the Scarlet Knight throughout the country and beyond.

Those who could stand up to her in melee for fifteen minutes would pass the test, while both swords and magic were allowed as weapons.

Meanwhile the Road Knight had taken a nice long nap by the side of the road. It took his poor horse quite a few hard kicks to wake him up, so he almost arrived late at the tournament field and heard nothing of the king’s speech or the rumors about the princess.

When the battle started, he just leant idly against the fence enclosing the site, crossed his arms and yawped while the fight was raging around him. He did not even carry a sword with him.

It wasn’t until the Scarlet Knight had finished off more than half of his opponents when he finally decided to join the brawl, but what a sight it was!

For the Road Knight did not need to bear arms: His magic was of a kind that he could conjure up any shape of metal he wanted, turning his limbs into weapons easily. He was indeed an experienced fighter, having taken on countless opponents and monsters alike over the years. Still the commander gave him and the other combatants a hard time. When time was up at last, only three of them were left: the prince of the Flower Kingdom, the prince of the kingdom of Celeritas, and our Road Knight.

The crowd cheered the winners with thunderous applause, and a gorgeous feast took place that night.

Only the princess was nowhere to be seen.

#gajevyweek2023 #fairy tail #fanfiction #fairytale #gajevy #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden

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kittynannygaming · 9 months

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[Dreamling Bingo 2023] 14

13/25 - You’re here - 15/25

Square: B2 - Enemies to lovers

Title: Uld Ases’ Dreamling Bingo 2023

Rating: G

Word Count: 1619

Ship(s): Dreamling

Warnings:

Additional Tags:

Summary: Stories

Link: AO3,

For @dreamlingbingo

Morpheus needed to know exactly who was Eritaké, if he wanted to court her properly. She had a laugh in her eyes and why wouldn’t she? He was very hostile to her only for him to change his behaviour over night. So, yes, she was amused.

“May I know why you’ve suddenly changed your opinion about silly little me?”

“You saved Eurydice, you saved our family. I’m just… grateful.”

“Sooo… Now that you know I’m not going to hurt your family, we can be friends again?”

“Friends… If it is what you want.” Being friends with Eritaké was a good first step. He would learn everything that he need to make his courting successful. “Well, let’s begin again. I’m Dream of the Endless. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“I’m Eritaké, and the pleasure is all mine, Dream of the Endless.” To his surprise, she hugged him.

Two days later, they were on horses, taking the road to Constantinople. Calliope decided to go back to Greece, the Endless went back to their realms, except for Dream (well, he went to his realm when everyone was asleep). And Orpheus and Eurydice decided to join Morpheus and Eritaké.

“Are you going to court Eritaké, Father?” Orpheus looked back at the girls as he finished his sentence.

“I am. Are you… good with that?”

“She saved my wife and she is very nice. It seems like you made a good choice in the future.”

“You are not angry? About your mother?”

“I’ve known for a long time now that you and mother have been more friends than husband and wife. I would have been disappointed if you had, actually, continue with Mother when you’ve a perfectly goodl future wife in front of you.” Morpheus smiled to his son.

“Thank you, my son. We need to find a good place for the night and catch some food for the three of you.”

Once they made camp and the fire was lit, they began to trade stories while cooking. Eritaké caught them nice fishes in a river nearby. There should be a village not far away, they would restock there.

“And you, Eritaké? Don’t you want to tell us a story?” asked Eurydice, once her belly was full.

“Unfortunately, I’ve only sad stories in my head right now.”

“We don’t mind. Not all stories are happy.” answered Orpheus.

“Please. Let us hear the story you’ve in mind.” added Morpheus. Eritaké sighed in defeat.

“Very well. Once upon a time,” she began softly, “there was two young people who were very much in love. The young man was an amazing singer and poet. The young woman was beautiful, kind and righteous. During their wedding day, the bride was playing with her fellow women when a man tried to kidnap her. She run, run, run until, by mistake, she stepped on a snake, who bite her. She died a few moments later.” Eurydice shivered. Orpheus gripped her hand so hard she thought he would break it.

“Driven by the loss, her husband sang so mournfully that the gods took pity on him and told him how to travel to the underworld to retrieve her. There, Hades and Persephone were so moved by his song that they agreed to his demand on one condition: his wife would be following him but he had to be always in front of her and to never look back until they were both safe in the living world. The more the young husband was walking, the more he doubt that she was there. But he never looked back. Not until he set foot in the living world. He needed so much to make sure she was there that he turned around and saw her fade away because if he had, indeed, crossed the threshold to Hades’ Kingdom, she was still on the other side. He lost her a second time. He lost his will to live, then, and when the Maenads tore him apart, he left them, thinking about his dear wife.” Morpheus was still and even paler. He even stop pretending to breath.

“His parents were never the same. They grieved apart, after fighting each other and the poor father built more walls around his heart, as to not succumb to his grief. He took a long time for the parents to be able to look at each other again and a little more to be friends again.” Eurydice, the brave girl (and quite a bit the romantic) asked, to lighten the mood,

“Did the parents found someone to love?”

“The father, yes. That I know of. The mother had a terrible ordeal and I think it will take time before she’s ready for another relationship.”

“Did it was love at first sight between the father and his lover?” Eritaké laughed.

“Oh no! Lust, maybe! He looked so much like a mischievous virgin little lordling to the mercenary his future lover was.” And that come like a surprise to the three of them. They knew she was talking about them, it was obvious and they knew she was good with a sword. But mercenary wasn’t what they suspected. “He was such an arrogant little piece of work.” But she was smiling softly, her eyes far away in the memory of their first meeting.

“How long before they were together?”

“A little more than 600 years. They were together for a little less than a year before…” she stopped. With everything that happened, Eritaké didn’t had the time to let everything sink in. But now, realizing the enormity of the situation, panic began. She got up and apologized before walking away. She needed to be alone, to breath. And that’s when the tears started.

“I need to see Destiny.” stated Morpheus. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t do anything foolish, Father.” The Endless smirked.

“I’ll try.” He disappeared in a whirlwind of sand. “My brother, I’m in my gallery and I hold your sigil. May I come?”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Dream. Come in.”

Destiny was imposing. Not the tallest, that would be Dream; nor the broadest, that would be Destruction; but he was the most imposing one. Probably the privilege of being the eldest.

“I can’t say I’m not happy with the changes Eritaké brought.” began Destiny. “It would have been a very sad future for our family.”

“I don’t understand. Isn’t it your duty to keep the future from changing?”

“Dream… The past is done, there is no chance of changing it… Well, almost none. The present, it’s depends on the situation. But the future… The future is not written in stone, Dream. Paper burns. Ink can be erased. Stories can be changed. Some things will happen. I think that’s why some writing are still blurry...”

“Blurry?” Destiny exhaled slowly.

“Indeed. Some things will happen. Do you want to see, little brother? It’s not necessary. This life is not anymore.”

“I understand, but I need to know.”

“Very well.”

Morpheus saw the death of Eurydice, he saw his son coming to him to help, the rejection and then, his death. He saw how he fought with Calliope, how they separated, him unable to mourn his son properly. He saw how, 2500 years after, his sister forced him in a tavern where a man (Eritaké, he knew instinctively) bragged that Death was stupid and he would never die. He saw himself scoff at the handsome mercenary and his sister amused by Dream’s dismissal. He saw himself walking to his (Hob, they called him) table and challenged him. Both of them had this gleam in their eyes saying “You don’t know what you’re getting into with me”. They were both stubborn then. It was a ‘make it or break it’ situation.

He saw him at his lowest, after 80 years of bad luck and misery. How he lost his wife, his newborn and then his first born, probably around the same age as Orpheus. He saw the relief in his eyes when Hob said that death was a mug’s game. He saw how Hob came to his defence and damn, that was very enticing. He saw himself getting captured, the death of his dear Jessamy, the century in a glass cage. He saw how he missed his appointment with Hob and, to his surprise, he saw how Hob tried first to save the White Horse then find a new place for their meeting.

Did he had so much faith in his return, after the way they parted the last time they met? Did he had so much faith in him, in them? He saw how the centennial meeting became a weekly meeting. How Hob tried to make him enjoy life. How he charmed him and courted him. How they got together. How they fit so well in each other life, how they fit so well together. And he saw the moment Hob disappeared and, probably, came to them.

“Did you see everything you needed, little brother?”

“Yes, thank you, Destiny. Thank you again for having me. Farewell.”

“Until next time, Dream.”

Destiny looked as his brother disappeared from his realm. He resumed his walk toward his personal corner of the garden. There was a desk and everything needed for a writing activity. Dream wasn’t the only lover of arts and stories in the Endless family. But where Dream was more fantasy, Destiny was more historical fiction and what if he got inspiration from the failed futures? Well, sue him. Taking paper and pen (and wasn’t it marvellous that his realm existed outside of time?), he began writing.

Title: ???

Characters: Lord Raven, Knight Columba

Time frame: 14th century

Enemies to lovers, slowburn, 50k/100k, idiots in love.

#KittyNanny Original Post #KittyNanny Original Work #Dreamling Bingo #Dreamling Bingo 2023 #Enemies to lovers #Eritaké!Hob #Destiny of the Endless #Dream of the Endless|Morpheus #Eurydice (The Sandman)#Orpheus (The Sandman)#Robert 'Hob' Gadling #Dream of the Endless|Morpheus/Robert 'Hob' Gadling #Dreamling #Eurydice/Orpheus (The Sandman)

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commentbooks · 2 years

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Just read Dark Crisis: Young Justice 1 and 2 and my thoughts on all the Cissie King-Jones Disc Horse I saw floating around last night are:

Cassie is so obviously in her own alt world and that is so obviously a fake Cissie it’s not even funny. Practically every panel we see of Cassie she is begging someone for help finding the boys and they are rejecting her out of hand. Including Cissie.

To recap, in 1 + 2, Cissie:

After the boys go missing right in front of her eyes, goes and sits outside instead even pretending to help Cassie search.

She then makes an outrageous comment about their “fake dads” (even though Cassie just got done monolouging about how WW was “more than a mentor” to her, so Fitzmartian clearly knows how fcking out of pocket that is and I can’t help but think it was meant to be an intentional contrast.)

She then tells Cassie that the boys are “always fine” so she shouldn’t even bother looking and then leaves her. Reminder that moments before this interaction Cissie was worrying over if Cassie was ok because she looked kind of mad. Does this new Cissie sound like a someone who cares about her friends’ emotions?

Cassie then spends the next couple days going to every hero she knows for help and getting turned away, until she finally turns back to Cissie

Cissie tells Cassie she should be worrying more about the justice league than her missing friends and precedes to try and slander them, saying that they were never actually nice to her or anyone else, and implying that Cassie being such close friends with them is the reason that her and Cissie grew apart.

After this speech doesn’t get through to Cassie, she agrees to help her and then proceeds to let Red Volcano beat the shit out of Cassie while she does nothing to help

I understand that actual Cissie got literally three lines of dialogue (while she was quite literally in the background) and so Cissie fans are nervous that this is just a character assassination, but I think it’s ok to have the barest amount of faith that there is indeed a plot going on in this comic book. In my eyes, this is very clearly the case of some malicious entity, in control of everyone in this version of reality, desperately trying to get Cassie to stop searching for her friends. (It’s kinda a shit entity tbh, considering neither Bart or Cassie are really fooled for a second).

Also disclaimer: I’ve never read any of the YJ books. I would not be able to recognize Properly Characterized Cissie King-Jones if she slapped me with a fish. But I can recognize a lying bitch! I’m very confident in that.

#cissie king jones #cassie sandsmark #Young Justice #dark crisis: young justice #arowette #wonder girl #dc comics #dark crisis #Tuesday spoilers #yj #repost since i BURIED the searchable tags last night #also this isnt me saying that all of the crit is unfounded.#theres DEFINITELY some poorly handled parts of this comic #but when i was reading the leaks i saw so many ppl upset about cissies characterization and sounded sooo unconvinced that it might be a fake #and then i picked up the book and i was like thats not a real girl. thats an agenda(tm).#cissies dialouge might be a meta-comentary on how the industry treats female charcters. but in-universe it is very clearly #'the boys SUCK cassie just forget about them forever!'

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kidgetrash · 1 year

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Monsters and Mana 2 - Save The World, Get The Girl - Chapter 9

Character: Keith Kogane, Pidge Gunderson/Katie Holt, Lance McClain, Hunk Garrett, Shirogane Takashi, Coran, Princess Allura, Matt Holt

Pairings: Keith/Pidge

Summary: Keith brings snacks; the rescue party enter Easthorn Forest.

If you go over to Ao3, there's a fun little anecdote about Home Can Be A Person on this chapter!

‘Coke, sugar free, not diet, cold glass, no ice; nachos with Italian mozzarella, pico, not salsa, and one and a half spoons of soured cream on the side.’ Keith put down what he knew was one of Pidge’s favourite snack combos and watched as her entire face lit up. He loved seeing her so happy, and he wouldn’t admit to anyone out loud that it made his stomach flutter and heart pound. Damn, she was beautiful, and she deserved nice things, including her very specific snacks.

‘Oh my God, Keith, I love you!’ She jumped out of her seat, not only to let everyone back in the booth but to quickly hug Keith, so quickly that she pinned his arms to his sides before grabbing a chip. ‘This is the best!’

‘You’re welcome.’ He stammered, having been struck speechless for a moment when she used the L word so affectionately. Lance, who had already slid into his seat, threw Keith’s bag of chips to him while Hunk put down the drink he had carried to allow his hands free to bring Pidge’s snacks. Shiro had brought popcorn and juice for Coran.

‘I’m not hugging you, even for a snack this good.’ Coran remarked as Shiro put his items down before sliding into place.

‘I’d settle for a thank you.’

‘Oh! Thank you!’ Coran realised he hadn’t done so and was only too happy to oblige. ‘Now, Princess Pidge, get back in your bubble so we can continue.’

‘On it.’ Pidge grinned at Keith before shovelling a loaded chip into her mouth and ensconcing herself back in her soundproof shield.

‘You finally reach the outskirts of Easthorn Forest, the wood that covers the eastern edge of Ephbe where it meets with Snagrore and Qiomend. Once you traverse the forest you will be at the wastelands, closer to your goal now than before.’

‘Obviously.’ Lance muttered.

Coran continued, undeterred. ‘The forest is dark, as though a deep cloak has been drawn between the trees, obscuring any and everything that lay beyond…’

‘When you said you watch over Princess Pidge, does that mean you can sense her?’ Keith asked, riding up beside Allura as her eyes scanned the darkness.

‘In a manner of speaking.’ She nodded, dismounting her horse and passing the reins to Keith without hesitation. ‘I am aware of when I am near to her. She is like a beacon that sits in the back of my mind, telling me where she is, how she is faring. At least, that’s how it is for now.’

‘What do you mean, for now?’ Lance hopped down and took the reins for all three horses as Keith joined Allura walking towards the tree line.

‘I mean her being is peril is what triggered my connection to her. It is often how it happens. It’s also how some of my people never find their connection. They are never truly in enough trouble to trigger it until it is too late.’

‘You mean death.’ Shiro stated, joining them with Hunk, though he still held his own horse.

‘Indeed.’ Allura stepped into the darkness but it was just that, shadows caused by the trees making it look worse than it truly was. ‘Upon some mortal danger, the Oshela’s link will trigger, starting as a vision of who their charge is, where they might be. The knowledge of their identity and whereabouts at that time becomes an integral part of their Oshel. Once I knew it was Princess Pidge of Ephbe I immediately left to travel to the palace.’

‘And King Matt just believed you with no confirmation?’ It was Hunk’s turn to doubt.

‘Have you never heard of the Oshela?’ Allura stepped back towards her horse. ‘I thought we were known the world over.’

‘For a lot of people you’re a myth, a legend.’ Keith explained. ‘Smaller villages and towns can go generations without ever meeting one of your kind and, eventually, people assume you’re a folktale.’

‘Accidental elitism is still elitism. Are we going in?’ Shiro watched the tribeswoman return to her horse.

‘There’s a power here, but it’s not negative. We should be safe to enter.’

Keith returned to Lance and took his horse back. ‘Safe or no, we have to go on. It’s the most direct way to the wastelands.’

‘Stick to the paths, don’t allow anything to draw you away. What you see in the distance is not real and is there to tempt you. Don’t fall for it.’ Allura mounted up. ‘And stick together.’

‘You think there’s something here that’s going to try separate us?’ Lance asked.

‘I think this side of this forest, at the very least, bears a heavy curse under the light of the moon. Like a siren, it could be your doom.’

‘The king isn’t paying us enough for this shit.’ Shiro grumbled under his breath, turning his steed to follow the group. Stolen princesses were easy, cursed forests were not.

‘I thought you were familiar with the wastelands?’ Lance called back.

‘Anyone with any sense knows you don’t enter the wastelands through Easthorn if you don’t have to.’

‘Then why are we?’ Hunk directed his question towards Allura.

‘Because we have to.’ Allura stated, sensing this direction was the one, and only, way they would get to Pidge on time.

Masterlist

#kidge #kidgetrash fanfic #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #voltron #monsters and mana 2

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amyonrails · 2 years

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U3 - The rural subway

After my fun walk along the very short U4 I decided to take on a much longer line. The U3. This line goes all the way from the south western edge of the city, straight into the western city center to cross it and terminate in the center of the eastern parts of Berlin. I started this journey in the outskirts in the borough of Zehlendorf.

So first I took the subway all the way to the southern terminus of Krumme Lanke which is named for a nearby, very bendy lake

[platforms of a train station; the sign for the U3 station Krumme Lanke hangs over a green bench; most of the platforms is covered in shade by a simple roof but some bright sunlight reaches the edges]

And yes, a lot of the southern part of this subway line does indeed run above ground. It stays in this kind of trench though so even on the streets right next to the track it is barely audible but still gives nice views onto the trains that pass by occasionally.

[an old class G subway snakes under a bridge over a switch; the bright BVG yellow the train is painted in is a stark contrast to the the green of trees and bushes around; the destination sign reads “Warschauer Straße”]

And it is very understandable that the line was built overground here. Most of the houses are single or two family and it almost feels like you are suddenly in a village somewhere in Brandenburg.

[a side street with single family houses lies in the shade of tall trees; a few cars are parked curbside]

Alongside the track runs a footpath for a long while and most of the time it feels like you are just having a stroll through a park. In a few places you encounter streets that need crossing. This is usually where the subway stations are.

A notable station on that way is Onkel Toms Hütte named for an inn that used to stand nearby which in turn was named after an anti-slavery novel. This stations is somewhat unique in design with two strip malls each running parallel to the platforms. I was not able to get a good picture of this, as there were too many people around I did not want to include in pictures on the internet, but someone on wikipedia got a nice picture from the platform to give you an impression: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onkel_Toms_H%C3%BCtte_(Berlin_U-Bahn)#/media/File:UbahnOtomshuette.JPG . I kinda like this design making the station the center of the neighborhood. You can easily go shopping a bit when you come home and it fills the station as a whole with a bit more life.

Even further along the line passes the Freie Universität (Free University), the largest of the three universities in Berlin. The station here used to be called Thielplatz but with the establishment of the university its name got changed to Freie Universität (Thielplatz). Always fun when brackets become necessary in station names. That day it was very quiet, but during lecture time lots of students would come here with the U-Bahn as free public transport is included when enrolling in a university in Berlin.

And the next station after that is another treat as well. The entrance building to Dahlem-Dorf (Dahlem village) has a wonderfully thatched roof that gives it a very rural old timey look.

[a small building with a thatched roof and half-timbered facade sits in the bright sun; some moss or lichen have grown on a part of the roof]

I can very much recommend visiting the Domäne Dahlem which is literally right across the street. It is an open air museum and farm which tries to preserve and teach about old techniques for farming and craftsmanship. There are farm animals, a smithy and fields where you can learn about different crops. A wonderful thing to have accessible to city children.

[a field with green crops]

[horses stand on a field grazing]

These are pretty much just highlights. There is so much more to see and explore along the way. And maybe I will get back to some things. But for now these are the first few stations along the U3 and there is still a long way to go.

#berlin #subway #ubahn

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mademoiselleparapluie · 1 year

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Yule at Quinn’s

Yuletide at the village was beautiful. The snow banked every cottage and fluttered in the wind. Mr. Flanagan hired a group of singers to carol people near his shop and the scent of Quinn special spiced wine wafted through the air. Usually, Eufrosyne would have made the track to town just to enjoy the ambiance, but the snowfall had been heavy that year. Traveling from the cottage had become first rather difficult, then life threatening and finally completely impossible. Wisely she had prepared for this possibility and had plenty of provisions. Still Yule alone felt depressing beyond belief.

Kierana pushed her snout to her hand. Eufrosyne smiled and cuddled her familiar. Kierana looked at her and wagged her tail. “You always cheer me up.” After her obligatory dog tongue ear washing, Eufrosyne got up and put the kettle on. A cup of tea was a perfect pick me up during the dark winter days. This tea had some cinnamon and other warm spices. She added a nice dollop of honey in and took the cup to her library. It had once been a drawing room, but generations of her family had collected enough books to merit the library title. She sat down on her favourite armchair and sipped her tea. Kierana put her head in her lap and gave her the most pitiful look she could manage. “You won’t like tea Kirry.” Saying that did not help. It never did. Kierana was absolutely convinced that what ever humans were eating was absolutely delicious for a dog’s palette as well. Eufrosyne found it annoying but also a bit endearing. Without Kierana the room would have felt very lonely indeed right now. In her grandmother’s time everyone had come here for Yule. The cottage would have been full on noise and life. Even when her mother had been the Witch of the Village Eufrosyne’s uncles often made the trip for Yule but now they had families of their own in cities faraway from here. Eufrosyne took another sip and sighed. The room was lonely and the thought of making Yule dinner for one made her unspeakably depressed, partly because she didn’t have much in the way of ingredients. Kierana made an impatient sound and poked her leg with a paw. “It’s still just tea Kirry.” She finished her cup and got up. They should at least get some fresh air.

Getting some air was much more of a chore than during autumn. Eufrosyne pulled on her heavy wool coat, her winter hat and mittens and winter boots with the fur lining. Kierana on the other hand was an arctic breed and thus needed to wear nothing. She was however very helpful while Eufrosyne dressed and by helpful Kierana meant being in the way in worst way possible and then shooting out of the door like a bullet when it was opened. This too was somehow very endearing. Finally, Eufrosyne was done.

By the time she got to the chicken coop Kierana had run around the house three times. The chickens were fine for now. The coop was well made and possibly warmer than her bedroom. The chickens had stopped laying at late November which was normal. They would get back to it come spring and Eufrosyne had made a bunch of fruitcakes for winter around October. She had planned to have some for her Yule meal but now it felt a bit sad. She grabbed the chicken feed and started sprinkle it on the floor. The chickens and her one rooster flocked around her. She was just about finished when she heard Kierana greeting someone. She pulled her mittens back on and stepped outside and followed the sound of barky screams just in time to save Quinn from the mandatory ear cleaning. “Quinn? What are you doing here? The path through the woods is lethal!” “ I came to invite you to my tavern for Yule. It occurred to me you’d be alone for Yule and thought you might want to join us. Kirry-berry can of course come too though we will have to exercise her often to make sure she doesn’t return as a barrel.” Quinn smiled and petted Kierana who was trying to steal his glove for a game of fetch. “And I used a horse to get through the snow. A friend was kind enough to lend me his sleigh.” Eufrosyne smiled. Quinn had a surprising amount of very generous friends that seemed to show up at convenient times. “I guess I shall pack. How many of my fruit cakes will we need?”

In the end they decided on five fruit cakes. Yule at Quinn’s tavern was usually busy as people from all around with nowhere to go made the trip there. Eufrosyne was glad Quinn had thought of her. It made her feel lighter. They wrangled Kirry into the sleigh with some help from the treats Eufrosyne always had ready for her and then Quinn helped her in. “The trip didn’t take much time at all.” he said and took the reins. “Milady will be brought to town in no time.” “Don’t tease.” “I would never Effie-dear. Especially in front of Kirry-berry.” Eufrosyne hid a smile, and they took off.

The forest was like a fairy land during winter, especially during the early sunset hours when the light painted everything in the hues of gold and made everything sparkle like diamonds. They were about halfway through the trip when it started snowing. “You would have been really snowed in if I hadn’t showed up.” “Quite true. Snow has been rather heavy this year.” On her last trip to town, she had gotten stuck in a snowbank. Luckily Kirry loved to dig. She had helped her after giving her face a very thorough bath. Eufrosyne gathered the sleigh blanket closer to her. The wind was quite biting considering how fast they were traveling. They would be at the tavern before night fell.

Quinn’s tavern was a unique place. The song of magic was easy to hear in the tavern and judging by the guests, the veils between the worlds were particularly thin around the entrance. Eufrosyne quite enjoyed the atmosphere at Quinn’s. You never knew what was about to come through the door. Quinn himself was possibly the wisest, kindest man in this side of the world. No matter how lonely, sad or angry a guest at his establishment was, he made them feel welcomed, cared about and that truly was magical. He also had a knack of guessing exactly what sort of drink or dish each person needed. As they approached the sounds of an ancient yule time carol filled the air. A warm scent of spices wafted from the door. Quinn pulled the sleigh to a stop and laughed when Kirry shot out of it and ran straight into the tavern. Eufrosyne herself disembarked more gracefully, carefully carrying the boxes fruit cakes. Quinn, being the gentleman he was, carried her overnight bag.

The tavern was quite crowded when they stepped in. In a corner a harpist was playing festive music and Eufrosyne saw that Kirry had made friends with an enormous white wolf that lounged next to the grand fireplace. In one of the booths three witches argued very loudly. Oldest of them turned her stern blue gaze towards Eufrosyne and nodded slightly and respectfully. Like always knows like and, witches always knew each other. Eufrosyne nodded back and followed Quinn up to the guest rooms. Eufrosyne had a specific room in the tavern. She stayed over quite often, usually when there was sickness in the village and her brews, hands and potions were desperately needed, or if someone was giving birth or someone’s cow was giving birth. Deaths were another occasion of her inn visits as well. But Yule sounded a whole lot more fun than any of those. Quinn put her bag on the bed, and she handed him the fruit cakes. “Dinner will be soon.” He smirked “It’s lamb stew today.” “My favourite.” She smiled at him. “I know. I made it special and planned to use it to lure you here if you refused to come otherwise.” “You are a crafty man, Quinn Thompson.” He stuck out his tongue and closed the door. Eufrosyne shook her head and took off her coat and gloves. Her dress was perfectly respectable for simple dinner, and she had packed her good dress for Yule festivities. She straightened her collar and cuffs. They were just simple white ones, but she had nice lace ones for special occasions. The lace had been handed from mother to daughter in her family for several centuries and was as fine as gossamer. They were with her as well. Yule should be celebrated in proper style. After neatening her hair, Eufrosyne made her way downstairs and checked on Kirry who had fallen asleep on top of the enormous white wolf. The wolf did not seem to mind. Eufrosyne smiled at the sight and sat down on the counter. Quinn handed her a cup of spiced wine and said that the stew would be done any moment now. Eufrosyne took sip of her wine and sighed contently.

The morning of Yule dawned with the clouds dispersed and sun shining. Quinn was putting up evergreens when Eufrosyne came down from her room. He looked like he needed help, so she stepped in and Kirry did too though her help was more hinderance in all honesty. Fortunately for them and the festive décor, Quinn’s fry chef lured Kirry over with the promise of breakfast and treats. Soon others joined in to help Quinn decorate. After a while it turned into a regular party. Cesar put out a buffet spread for breakfast, and everyone grabbed what they wanted while helping to put up boughs of spruce and red velvet ribbons, some with more success that others. Eufrosyne would never forget when one of the three witches, a very short, round woman helped to decorate the huge iron work chandelier by standing on Big George George’s shoulders before being urged out the door by her stern companion. Big George looked relieved and quite red afterwards and absolutely refused to speak of the incident ever again. In fact, he drank his giant cup of coffee in record time and bolted out of the tavern clearly fearing that the woman would return. When the decorations were complete, Eufrosyne put the leash of Kirry and headed out. She needed her walk after all, and the Village was lovely during Yule, a perfect picture of midwinter cheer. Every door boasted a wreath of evergreens, the roofs were covered by pure white snow and while rather limited in their song selection the carollers hired by Mr. Flanagan filled the air with music. At evening candles lit in the windows would fill the streets with their joyous flicker.

Eufrosyne and Kirry headed to the village square. At this time of year, it was filled with little stalls selling all sorts of wonderful things as a sort of a Yule market. Farmers that lived near the village had their stalls as well as travelling merchants from further away. Even some that had travelled from different continents. It was a tradition for Eufrosyne to check out their offerings each year. Sometimes she found some real treasures, rare herbs, crystals from far away lands or simply a delicious new mayonnaise from the farm over yonder. Often it was Kirry who lead her to the best finds. Kirry had a very discerning nose, and she was an excellent judge of character. Many a merchant who had wonderful wares had been sorely disappointed by the little orange dog leading her mistress to another stall entirely after a whiff at their direction.

Eufrosyne was quite surprised when Kirry headed straight to booth selling woollen goods and fabrics. Admittedly her autumn cape had been exhibiting signs of falling apart so perhaps Kirry had a point. She stepped up to the booth and removed her glove to feel the fabrics better. “Hello dear! What are ye looking for?” The seller, a woman of advanced age and wizened face, asked. “A wool fabric for an autumn cape. Or mayhaps a coat. Something that holds well against rain.” “I have lovely new tweeds straight from the north. And…” the woman gave her a sharp look. “Something dark, for a lady with the Hearing?” “Yes.” The woman pulled up a few bolts of dark grey tweeds and Eufrosyne picked one she quite liked and added a pair of colourful mittens to her purchase. She enjoyed colourful patterned knits and even made a few herself from time to time. Knitting was a relaxing hobby, good for those evenings when there were stories to be listened to or told. After a moment she grabbed a few balls of yarn as well.

While the lady packed her things, Eufrosyne looked about the marketplace and noted that many of the farmers had managed the treck to the village. But of course, they had the advantage of a horse. Lil’ George George was currently manning his family’s booth of apple preserves. The boy waved excitedly. She’d have look of his wares later but now she felt like a cup of something warm was in order. Hot chocolate stall was singing its siren’s song at her so after getting her wools she made her way there and received a cup with a generous dollop of whipped cream post-haste. Kirry practically glued herself to her legs to get her portion of the cream. Eufrosyne obliged and found her way to bench nearby. It was blessedly covered in lambskins and quilts. Kirry quickly put her head in Effie’s lap and let out a pathetic whine. “No more cream Kirry.” Another whine. Eufrosyne took a sip of the wonderfully hot drink and savoured the deep flavour. The seller always used a special mix of spices to make the drink especially nice. Vanilla, some cinnamon and just tiniest bit salt to bring out the richness of the chocolate. It wasn’t just the flavour she savoured. The warmth of the cup was seeping into her fingers which had grown a bit frozen in the brisk cold air. She smiled contently and people watched a bit, while sipping her drink.

It seemed like the whole town was out. She could see Mr. Flanagan standing before his shop, directing his carollers. His wife was making her way to the herbal stall to talk to Mrs. George who seemed to be arguing about the price of bath salts. The whole square was filled with the pleasant whirr of the season. Eufrosyne returned her cup to the chocolate stall and made her way to the George stall. It was filled with all sorts of preserves. Apart from apples the George’s grew cherries and pears and a large assortment of berries. “Miss Effie, mam wanted you to try the cherry compote. She used some new spices and said ye have the best palette in the county!” “Of course.” Lil’ George handed her the spoon. Eufrosyne took a careful spoonful and nodded her head slowly. “She’s outdone herself. This is delicious.” The addition of basil was quite inspired. “I must buy a jar and maybe one for Quinn too.” Lil George moved fast as lightning and packed two jars. Eufrosyne paid for them and looked around to decide where to go next. She was just about to get some roasted chestnuts when Mr. Flanagan called her name. “Ah miss Taylor! Just the person I needed!” Eufrosyne gathered her patience and made her way to Flanagan’s. “What is it Mr. Flanagan?” “Oh, you see my wife wished to give you a nice yule present and I couldn’t make it to the cottage with the snow but now you’re here.” Mr. Flanagan seemed a bit flustered with the idea of his wife giving a gift to a witch but managed to hand it over. “It’s just some of her toffees as you like them so much.” “It’s very kind of her to remember.” Eufrosyne smiled and curtsied a bit. “But of course, miss Taylor. You’re one of our very favourite customers.” “Well do thank your wife.” Eufrosyne would naturally send her a thank you-note after Yule. It was just polite to do so. The note for Quinn would have to be particularly nice.

On the way back to the tavern she picked up some of the chestnuts. They were her favourite yuletide treat. She even saved some from the autumn harvest to cook some at home but the ones at the town square were always more special. Quinn laughed when he saw all her packages. “Lots shopping it seems.” He smirked. “The market had very good things this year. I got you some of Mrs. George’s cherry compote. She used basil this year and it is exquisite.” Quinn grabbed the jar and opened taking a long sniff. “Smells nice. I’ll put it on the paper cakes tomorrow morning and get the guests opinion. If it’s really good, I might make a stock order for it. The Georges could do with one of those.” Eufrosyne agreed. Fruit farming wasn’t the easiest job to get by with. Especially during winter.

Eufrosyne went up and put her shopping in her room. Well apart from the chestnuts. Those she brought down with her with Kirry hounding her heels. She too quite liked chestnuts. They were lucky to make it downstairs without falling. Eufrosyne took a seat at the tavern’s common room near the large fireplace. Kirry said hello to her wolf friend before returning to look longingly at chestnuts. The wolf reluctantly joined her. There was almost a human sadness in the beast’s red eyes. “You are a long way from home, aren’t you?” Eufrosyne said and scratched its ears. She could barely hear the whine it let out. “Poor dear.” She handed the beast chestnut which he took from her hand almost daintily. A moment later Quinn brought her a cup of tea. “It will go with your chestnuts.” He smiled and put it down to a table next to her. “And a treat for Kirry-berry and our canine guest.” Both creatures received a nice bone. Eufrosyne smiled at them. “Tell me if you need help Quince?” Quinn shook his head. “You are my guest. And I’m sure the town will have your hands full before long.” Eufrosyne quirked her eyebrow. “But there is always so much to do on Yule.” “Well yes. Maybe after your tea you could make a couple of witch-balls for the tree.” Quinn suggested. “It would be my pleasure.” Eufrosyne smiled. She liked making witch-balls, weaving spells into them and hanging them into the tree. “Which one would you prefer?” “Anything you can make Effie-dear.” “I’ll raid Cesar’s spice cabinet later.” She already had a few ideas. “And if some of your other guests wish to join, I don’t mind helping them.” “You are a treasure Effie-dear. Some of my guests were getting a bit bored.”

An hour later Eufrosyne was holding court at one of the larger tables at the tavern hall, surrounded by spices, flowers, twigs of evergreens, dried fruits and glass orbs. Quinn had even brought out a few crystals. She started with the traditional Yule ball with holly branches, a bit of evergreens, a few sticks of cinnamon and rose petals. It would bring good luck for the coming year. After thinking it over for a while, she added some star anis for protection. Something in the air had felt strangely threatening since Samhain. In fact, she should make a few specific ones for protection. And some for prosperity. She looked up and noticed a curious crowd gathering around the table. She waved them to sit down and explained she was doing. After a while the whole table was covered in witch-balls of various purposes. Just in time too. Quinn was bringing the tree in. Eufrosyne smirked. They had more than enough of the ornaments. When the tree was up, she was the first one to put one on. Soon the tree was full of them. A moment later Cesar came out of the kitchen with a tray of hangable, beautifully decorated gingerbread biscuits which also went on to the tree. After they were done it was a handsome looking thing indeed. Even if Kirry stole a biscuit or two for her and the wolf. Afterwards the guests slipped out to get dressed for dinner

Eufrosyne had been saving her better dress for this. It was a simple but made out very fine wool mixed with a little bit of silk which gave it a luxurious sheen. With her antique lace collar and cuffs, it was quite elegant. However, before dressing she should deal with her hair. Eufrosyne had kept it on a braid for the day to give it a bit of wave. For the evening she would put it on a nice pompadour with maybe some strands curled near her face. She might even add a bit of holly in the back. It would look nice and festive. For once her hair agreed with her. Eufrosyne smiled and put on her good dress. She took a long look in the mirror. She looked very nice. The sweep of the skirt was truly very elegant. After she was done Eufrosyne turned toward Kirry who was sitting up very nicely. Slowly Eufrosyne took out a length of wide red silk ribbon. Kirry looked very disapproving but changed her mind when Eufrosyne offered her a chestnut. Soon the ribbon was tied around the little dog’s neck in a luxurious bow. It looked very fetching. Of course, it was likely that Kirry would get rid of the ribbon as soon as possible. But for now, they were ready to go downstairs. Eufrosyne pinched her cheeks quickly a few times and opened the door. Kirry slipped out before her and sat down at the start of the stairs looking expectant. She knew there would be nice food tonight. And loose fingers.

The tavern hall and the common room looked like the most festive places in the world. The greenery they had hung at morning was still green and lovely and the red velvet ribbons added a bright spot of colour throughout the room. The candles Quinn had lit gave the room a warm golden glow and the witch-balls glittered in the tree. There was holly above the fireplaces which also lend their light to the glow in the room. The small booths of the hall had disappeared and been replaced by long large table with enough seating for everyone. It groaned under the weight of Cesar’s Yule dinner. There were roasted geese, giant puddings, plates full of roast potatoes, pitchers of Quinn’s spiced wine, all sorts of preserved fruits, buns and of course Eufrosyne’s fruit cakes. It was a truly wonderful sight. Quinn spotted her and insisted she’d have to sit at his right hand at the head of the table. She agreed and he led her to her seat. Kirry followed them and slipped under the table. And with that everything was ready. Everyone sat down and the Yule dinner begun.

It was truly a wonderful evening. Cesar’s food was wonderful, the surroundings were beautiful, and the conversation flowed like the wine. Quinn started a round of storytelling by recounting the legend of the holly king and the oak king. Eufrosyne had never heard so many Yule tales in one sitting each one more wonderful than the last. Her favourite was perhaps the story about the yule of the forest animals. It was very cheerful though very unrealistic. But it was lovely to think that there was one night a year when everything was at peace. She felt Kirry put her head on her lap and rethought it. Looking around the table a night of perfect peace didn’t feel unrealistic at all. She petted Kirry and smiled. She was glad Quinn had convinced her to come.

#eufrosyne the village witch #Kirry the dog #Witch #Christmas story #But pagan #My writing #Fantasy writing #short story #Cottage core

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