#like he is a mage and mutant. wild

[petite--craft]

What a pentagram has to do with Billy?

Idk, his powers. Also look it up in the comics. It's literally there.it's

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Snow Day

Title: Snow Day Prompt: There's a snowstorm, and someone's been gone since before it started. They were supposed to come home hours ago, so a member of the group heads out to find what happened to them. Fandom: ROTTMNT Word Count: 3681 Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating: Gen Characters: Casey Jones Jr, Raphael, Leonardo, Baxter Stockboy cameo Warning: Casey gets real freaked out and has a minor anxiety/panic attack Summary: Casey goes out just before a snowstorm happens and gets caught right in the middle of it... Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram! Reused old art for illustration lol, you can see it on AO3

@cheetochild989 @tmnt-write-fight

Posted on AO3 <-

"I won't be gone long," Casey promised. "It's only a few things."

"Still, it's your first time buying groceries alone," Leo mumbled, the tap tap tap of his crutch echoing against the floor. He didn't always need it, but some days were harder than others. "I could go with --"

"No," Casey interrupted him, holding a hand up and stopping Leo in his tracks. "If I'm ever going to figure out how to live in this time period, then I need to learn to do these things on my own."

"Sheesh, alright!" Leo joked. "And don't say 'time period', this isn't the Victorian era! It's only what, 20-plus years into the past? Time period. Woof! You make it sound like we're ancient wizards or something..."

Casey laughed at the idea. The only one he could truly call a 'wizard' was Mikey, but he hadn't really gotten to that stage just yet. Mage, yes. Wizard? Maaaaybe in a few months, if he kept up the training with Draxum.

Casey and Leo went over the list one more time, adding one or two last-minute items that Leo suddenly thought of as they made their way to the exit. Casey stuffed the list into his pants before shoving a large and slightly oversized jacket over himself, struggling slightly with the arms.

"Don't forget your hat and earmuffs," Raph reminded him as he walked past. "It's really cold out today."

"Gotchya," Casey nodded, handling the earmuffs like they're some new and exotic species. "We didn't really have cold weather in the future..."

"Really?" Leo asked, his head tilting to the side. "What were winters like?"

"I dunno, like 60 degrees at the lowest?" he shrugged. "What with all the planetary devastation and laser blasts and global warming... weather became sorta nonexistent."

Raphael shuddered at the thought of such a thing. No weather meant no rain, no snow, maybe even no real wind or cloudy days. 

"Well, try to be home soon okay? I think there's a call for heavy snow later."

"Sure thing," Casey replied, half-paying attention to Raph as he walked out the door. After all, this is the past, and everyone has it so cushy! There's nothing dangerous here except for idiot muggers and a few mutants. What could possibly go wrong?

"And don't forget the mittens!" Raph called after him. Casey walked back into the lair, retrieved his gloves, and then walked back out.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey Jones Jr was starting to really like New York City, circa 2020. It was a different kind of hectic, but Casey had lived his entire life in chaos.

Instead of dodging missiles, he was dodging taxi cabs.

Instead of wild krang dogs, there were people walking a dozen angry chihuahuas and poodles and dobermans to earn money.

Instead of corpses laid to waste on the ground, there were a few homeless people sleeping in cardboard boxes.

Differences with small similarities.

The biggest difference was the turtles. Sensei Leonardo was no longer a tall and hulking king of the apocalypse with a robot arm who took no slack from anyone or anything -- he was now an ego-stripped teenager with a knee that had been so twisted up that it counted as a physical condition and they could qualify for disabled parking with the tank. Master Michelangelo was no longer someone who looked older than time and could create lavish magic spells with a flip of his hand, but an untrained child with an unbridled adoration for drawing and reality cooking shows. Uncle Tello was not the cybernetic scientist in overalls with a hundred extra technological advancements, but a nerdy teenager with 'secret' plans for anarchy against the US government. Raphael... well... Casey couldn't remember Raph firsthand. There were some photographs and video recordings of him, a few stories passed down, but the big red giant had been killed in action a few years after Casey Jr was born.

But this time period -- er, the past was still nice. It was crazy how many people he recognized. Baron Draxum, Commander O'Neil, Master Splinter, Todd 'The Sasquatch' Capybara, Big Mama... Casey would just be walking down the street and he'd see a couple with a child, and he'd realize the kid was one of the medics that helped him when he'd broken his leg. He would be buying pizza and the cashier was one of Uncle Tello's tech apprentices. In the Hidden City, an octopus Yokai would offer to sell him some mystic potion and Casey would recall they were one of the cooks in the mess hall who always gave him extra portions to help him grow, even when rations were low.

Casey reached the end of memory lane when he found the grocery store he'd been looking for. He casually walked inside just as a few unnoticed flakes of white began to fall from the sky above him.

"Hello, and welcome to the Stock & Shop!" an older woman greeted. "Holler if you need anything!"

Casey nodded with a smile as he started to gather everything on the list.

Chicken soup: got it.

New batteries for the remote: donezo.

Flaming-hot chips: three bags procured. 

Four different brands of soda: orange blast for Mikey, sugar-free cola for Raph, flavourless juice for Donnie, and diet blueberry bubble waters for Leo. Check.

Popcorn for movie nights: not yet.

The popcorn in question was placed on a hard-to-reach shelf high above him. Of course, this one particular brand that Mikey so desperately needed was at the very top. As Casey was reached up for the requested snack, a voice chimed in behind him.

"Better hurry, there's supposed to be a wicked snowstorm tonight!"

Casey jumped back, startled by the sudden sound. He looked down and saw a short, scrawny kid with a comparatively huge head looking up at him.

"Oh, hey. You look familiar...?"

"This is my parent's store, I work here all the time. Or maybe you've seen my videos? My channel? STOCKBOii?? Cybersleuth??"

"Stockboy? As in Baxter Stockboy?" Casey wondered, his eyes widening as the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Yeah! You've heard of me?" the child asked excitedly.

"Kind of," Casey replied, not exactly sure how to explain that Baxter had worked as one of Donatello's apprentices to create warships and mechas during the golden age of the Resistance, despite Sensei's reluctance. "I heard about the whole 'Mutant Menace' fiasco."

Baxter groaned loudly.

"Uggggh, that whole thing. My parents still won't let me leave the house unsupervised. It's ridiculous! One mass panic and riot instigation, and they turn on me! At least the judge agreed to let me work off community service in the store..."

Casey smirked just a little.

"Hmm. Anyway, you said something about a snowstorm?"

"Oh, right. The weather report says it might get up to two inches."

"What might get up to two inches?"

"Um... the snow? Look, it's started snowing already!"

Baxter Stockboy pointed out towards the front entrance. A small sprinkling of white could just barely be visible beyond the glass.

"Oh," Casey shrugged. "Doesn't look too bad."

"You say that now, but it's supposed to get below 30º Farenheit!"

"Oh. That is kinda cold," Casey agreed. "...But I'm sure it'll be okay."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Ten minutes had passed.

Raphael received a notification from the weather app, informing that the previously predicted 'heavy snowfall' was now a full-blown snowstorm.

That probably wasn't good. But it wasn't terrible, either. Just some snow.

"Boys, it looks like tomorrow is another snow day!" he announced to the rest of the Hamatos.

From various rooms in the lair, Raph heard them shout in excitement.

"Yes!"

"Alright!"

"Snow day, hooRAY, baby!"

Raph smiled. He couldn't wait to introduce Casey to his first snowfall...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey had finally gotten all the items on the list and was preparing to check-out, when an announcement went over the loudspeakers.

"Attention shoppers -- we encourage all patrons to finish up their errands, as we will be closing soon due to the weather. Thank you."

Huh. They sure were getting all riled up over this 'snow' stuff. Casey had witnessed a few storms before in the months prior, but it was never too bad. Thunderstorms were freaking terrifying, but only because they were loud and Casey's first thought was always that an air attack was happening. But he loved watching lightning. It reminded him of a few magic spells Master Michelangelo had performed on occasion...

Casey finished up the last of his errand and purchased the items. He needed a little help when trying to decide on paper or plastic, and for a moment he forgot the pin number for the card Splinter had given him, but other than that all had gone well.

He stepped out of the store, the glass doors sliding past him gracefully.

And he was greeted by a harsh blast of cold. It almost knocked him over, the icy wind biting his face so much he dropped the bags of groceries in order to cover his face with his regrettably un-mittened hands.

Okay. He was starting to see what people meant now. He hurriedly pulled his mittens on and scrambled to cover as much of his head as he could with his hat and earmuffs.

It had been cold these past few months, sure, but not like THIS! This was arctic.

And what's more, the sky was raining ash. That only ever happened when Uncle Tello sent missiles to blow the Krang vessels to kingdom come. So why was no one terrified, or hiding? Besides, there were no more Krang ships to incinerate. So then, what was...?

Casey happened to glance to the side and saw a kid sticking their tongue out. Their parents did the same. They caught a few of the flakes on the tips of their tongues, laughing as they shivered. Casey watched in wonder. He held a hand out. A single fleck of white flittered down to his palm, delicately touching down onto him, and melting upon impact with the glove. Casey was gently bewildered. He looked up at the sky. The heavens above were masked over with clouds of grey, hiding the universe from him, guarding him from the wonders he couldn't understand or comprehend. And yet, the universe deemed this wonder fit for him to comprehend?

Casey's mouth hung open as he gazed at the sky, confused. Snowflakes fell against his cheeks, his eyelashes, his lips, his chin. He stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes. It took a few minutes, but finally he felt one land and melt in his mouth.

...Underwhelming, if he was honest.

It was just water. He kind of expected a flavour.

The wind suddenly whipped against him. It had calmed for the brief moments that Casey stood there, but now was circling back in full fury. Casey gasped at the fierce chill, bundling himself up more and more before gathering the supplies and shuffling back to the lair. The wind swirling around him, the snow raining down with a vengefulness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Twenty minutes had passed.

Raph had started to feel like he was forgetting something. He wasn't sure what, though...

Donnie had re-fortified the lair and central heating system, so now it would stay extra cozy despite the freezing temperatures outside. You could hear the wind start to roar if you went to the exterior tunnels and big exit door.

Raph remembered how in the early years when they were all teeny tiny turtle tots, Splinter had them all stay in the same room to conserve heat. He'd set up tons of heat lamps and space-warmers, bundle each one in extra-fuzzy blankets... Looking back, he could clearly see the panic that Splinter would be hiding at the idea that maybe they could all freeze to death if they weren't careful, or maybe that the power would go out when they weren't expecting it and he'd only have a few minutes to come up with a plan before hypothermia could creep in like a ghost. It was probably extra terrifying considering that they had minor cases of brumation when it got way too cold. They got better at combating it, wearing warm clothes to help stay warm. And it helped that they also had some minor mammalian DNA too, meaning that they had to be utterly and agonisingly cold for brumation to actually take effect. 

Still. Raphael had mad respect for Splinter now. He'd kept his cool and kept his calm, never once displaying the fear that probably filled his mind day in and day out. Raph wished he knew how to do that...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Was Casey even going the right way?? He couldn't tell anymore.

The downpour of snow particles was starting to get so heavy that Casey couldn't even see ten feet in front of him, even with his mask on. Constantly blinded, he relied mostly on the lights from cars or neon signs to help guide him down the sidewalk. He couldn't remember the last time something like this had happened...

Maybe... during the dust storm incident. Sensei and Casey were in a losing battle against the Krang one day and in a sheer panic, Leonardo portaled them away and into some random place far, far away. Leonardo had initially assumed it was some inhospitable desert in the middle east or something, based on how much sand and wind there was. But after a quick look at the tracking device Donatello had installed, they realized that it was actually just New Mexico. Or, what was left of it. Sensei Leonardo had sent them right smack-dab in the middle of a dust storm, where the drought-riddled land had become so dry that the wind created massive walls of dirt and dust that engulfed everything. It could suffocate you, dehydrate you, blind you, etc. The might've died if Leonardo hadn't thought quickly and found a shelter for them to hide out in. He'd dropped one of his swords during the storm, so the two were forced to wait it out. Sensei Leonardo never did find that other sword. He'd had to create a new one with his ninpo.

Anyway, this snowstorm felt like the exact opposite of the dust storm.

Rather than hot and dry, this was cold and wet. But the stabbing sensations of small things constantly flying into you was the same. The wind that threatened to carry you away was the same. The loneliness was the same.

Casey was convinced that he'd gotten turned around somehow... He wasn't sure where he was.

Forget being able to see ten feet away, he could barely see his own hands in the storm!

This was not good. Casey reached up, feeling around his mask for a specific button that would activate a distress beacon. He'd modified it so that Donnie's tech could receive the call, and hopefully it would go through. But if the storm was as severe as it felt, then it was possible that the lines would be down and the lair's internet access and phone lines wouldn't get the message.

Casey found the button. He'd have to hope that they'd get the signal.

He pressed it, and then pressed on, hoping that he could find his way home on his own...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Thirty minutes.

The lair was starting to get terribly frigid. Raph waltzed into the kitchen, shuddering from the chill as he did, hoping that maybe Mikey would start making something hot to eat and that in turn would warm up the kitchen. He only found Leo in there, swirling a mug of hot cocoa that he'd heated up. 

"Brr-rr-rr, it's cold! I thought Donnie fixed the heat?"

"He did, but it's still pretty frigid," Leo sighed. "I'm starting to get worried..."

"You think the power might go out?" Raph asked.

"No, I'm wondering where Casey is."

Casey?

OH SHOOT, CASEY.

"Raph completely forgot that Casey was out!" Raph screamed, hands flying through the air. "I thought he came back fifteen minutes ago! You mean he's still out there?!"

"Relax, it's just snowing. Not that big of a deal," Leo said as he took a long sip of cocoa from his mug.

"Leo, you do realize that Casey's never seen snow before?!" Raph reminded him. "And this ain't no ordinary gentle snowfall, this is practically a blizzard!" 

Raph huffed angrily before rushing to the lair entrance. He grabbed a coat, some galoshes, a scarf, gloves, snowpants -- the whole shebang. Leo followed casually, sipping his cocoa gently as he walked after him.

"Where'ya goin'?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm goin' after Casey, of course!" Raph yelled.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I got him right here on the little tracker thingy."

Raph held out his phone to display to Leo the small signal coming in from Casey Jr's mask.

"Mhm," Leo hummed. "Okay. Well, when you get back, maybe bring home a pizza too."

"Leo, can you be serious about this?!"

"Okay, fine. When you find him, call me and I'll portal the two of you home. Okay?" Leo suggested. "No sense trudging through the cold back and forth."

"Great, thanks," Raph grumbled before running out the door, pulling his collar up to prepare for the wind and wet.

Raphael ducked out. Down the corridors, up a ladder to the top of the street. He pushed the manhole cover aside with ease. He was instantly met with a barrage of wind and ice, the snow and slush that had been atop the cover sliding down and splashing onto his face.

Raph sputtered softly, wiping his face off before heading into the fray...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

Casey was huddled against something. A wall, a stone, a tree, a car -- he could hardly tell. It was so cold, his skin felt like it was peeling off. His eyes stung from the wind, his feet ached from the chill, his arms hurt from the cold and from carrying all the groceries with him this whole time. The straps on the plastic bags were digging into his arms, cutting off his circulation. It was so windy and loud, he couldn't hear the traffic of the city anymore. His jacket was coated in white.

He'd hoped that he could shield himself with whatever he was leaning against, but the wind came from all sides.

It was terrifying. Being alone. He hadn't felt alone like this in so long...

He remembered sitting alone, like this, long ago...

The wind whipping around, the sky dark, the battlefield torn and scarred, white flakes of ash raining down from above. It was cold that day, too. Casey couldn't be older than four years old at the time.

The ground was covered in grey and white from all the ash and cinder. Casey was covered in the powdery residue himself, his face white as a sheet, his messy and greasy hair holding in the flakes and embers from the explosion that had decimated the world around him.

But the worst was the silence that followed. Nothingness. Loneliness. Agony.

Casey started crying. Four years old, having watched the world end, having seen his mother die, and so many of her comrades, and only to be left alone and scared? Of course he was crying.

In the distance, a figure began to move. Casey gasped, trying to cover his mouth and keep silent as the looming creature lumbered towards him. The monster was huge, it must be a krang mecha or --

"Casey?"

He recognized that voice. It wasn't Sensei, but it was just as comforting.

"Casey, where you? Casey!"

The child meant to answer. But his voice was lost in his own throat.

"Casey! I see you! I'm coming, kid, I'm coming!"

Casey reached out for the Red Giant to take him home... The silhouette of his figure in the smoke and smog that surrounded them...

But as the figure stepped through the fog, it wasn't a red giant.

"Casey! There you are!! I was so worried, what happened?!"

Casey Jones Jr was taken back to the present moment, and stared at Raph in shock.

"R-Raph..?"

"Geez, Case, you look frozen solid! Are you okay?"

Casey nodded softly, getting back up on his feet as Raph gave him a hand.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "It... it, uh, started snowing."

"Yeah, I see that," Raph chuckled. "Sorry, we had no idea it would get so bad."

"It... it's okay," Casey responds quietly. "How did you find me?"

"Well the snow's dying down a bit, so it ain't as hard to see," Raph mentioned as he pointed up. Casey did notice that during his anxiety attack, the wind has calmed a bit more and the downpour of frozen particles was much gentler. "Besides, the tracker helped. Although, I am curious how you managed to get all the way into Central Park?"

"Wha-huh?" Casey gaped, turning around and examining the area.

He had been huddled against a tree trunk, and a few feet off in the distance was a playground. Ahead of him was the cityscape, behind him the rest of the wooded little area.

"Wow. I didn't realize that I came this far..."

Raph chuckled as he grabbed the groceries from the ground.

"So, you ready to get home? All I gotta do is call Leo and we can be back in the lair with some hot chocolate!"

Casey glimpsed at the park behind them. It was... actually quite lovely.

It was a magical world, sparkling and quiet. Undisturbed. Serene.

Raph noticed Casey's stare and looked back at the scene, smiling knowingly.

"It sure it pretty, ain't it?"

"...It's peace," Casey awed. "It's absolute peace. This... I've never seen anything like it before."

Raph took in a deep breath, inhaling the peace with gratitude for a world that could give you something so gorgeous after something so terrible.

"Yeah. It's really beautiful. Tell ya what, the guys can wait for a bit. Want me to show you around the Winter Wonderland for a bit?"

Casey nodded with a dumbfounded smile on his face.

The two walked out into the park together, enjoying the peace that they both had fought tooth and nail for.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆The End⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

[thirstyforred]

i may be just built differently but I really wasn't expecting Ciri's mutations to be a topic of discussion about TW4/Lynx trailer, and I don't mean like gamer bro outcry that women can't go thru Trials, but from people more versed in lore and positive about Ciri being protagonist, and the witcheress ending of Wild Hunt being the canon one, still being dubious about the Trials and how the game is gonna tackle that

and the thing is, from my perspective at least, that there no lore inconsistency here?

there's TTRPG material to support it/provide explanations of how Ciri can have cat eyes and such

from the sidebar, page 251 from Witcher Core Rulebook

Mutating Non-witchers are completely incapable of utilizing mutagens. If they attempt it they are immediately poisoned and must make a DC:18 Endurance check (or have a DC: 18 First Aid check made on them) to end the effects of the poison. A mage with Mutate can mutate a subject, but even if successful the subject suffers the minor mutation of that mutagen. These minor mutations can often be hidden, but if anyone finds out the subject is a mutant, their Social Standing immediately changes to Hated and Feared. If the attempt fails, the subject’s body refuses the mutagen. Not only are they thrown into Death State, the mutagen visibly warps their bodies, changing their Social to Hated and Feared. These greater mutations cannot be hidden.

(i love how the first sentence is immediately debunked by the text, witcher ttrpg writing at its peak)

with that in mind let's check on the Mutate perk, the last one in the Scientist line from the mage's skill tree, page 66, same book

Mutate (INT) A mage can spend all of their stamina and a full day experimenting on a subject to roll Mutate at a DC equal to (28 – (subject’s BODY + WILL)/2) to mutate the subject. Success grants the subject use of the Mutagen with the appropriate minor mutation. Failure throws the subject into a Death State and inflicts the larger mutation.

looking at Yennefer's stats (same book, page 13) she has 10 in Intelligence and 8 in Mutate, granting her +18 to this roll, in the worst-case scenario where the subject has all the stats at 1 (unlikely), she needs to roll 9 on d10, hard but not impossible. unfortunately, we don't have Ciri's stats at all, but the lowest score for mob humanoid enemies is 3, so...

my point is that Ciri being a mutant is not impressive, from the rules as written, technical point. she was already eating mushrooms meant for boys before Trials in the books, and from Rogue Mage, we know that Alzur's first quasi-successful mutation was of a woman (she died right after because of strain on her body and Alzur being dumb but still...)

Is TTRPG being lore compliant with the games? It is. Like that should not even be a question, it just is. Not even getting into the reed on the behind-the-scenes with how every book had to be double-checked by CDPR's internal lorekeepers, it literally had a book about Erland before he was introduced in Gwent. I distinctly remember going through leaked previews of cards and correctly assigning cards belonging to Erland and Arnaghad based on their descriptions in the ttrpg book. If Gwent didn't also crumbled when it did, I bet we would eventually also get the second mage's expansion with characters from Tome of Chaos (and our first (implied but still) trans woman in Witcherverse)

[cookinary]

Hey guys, if you want some music

I've been putting together a playlist of what my AUs' themes would be

I'll be making a list under the cut of which song matches which AU (so don't check it out if you wanna figure it out for yourself!)

Da OG boi: Banana Man - Tally Hall / Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Set it Off

Android: Robot Rock - Daft Punk

Backrooms: H A L L S - CG5

Basically Villain: Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio

Beyblade: Beyblade Metal Fusion French opening

BNA: Ready to (BNA opening) / NIGHT RUNNING - Shin Sakiura

Brothers in Arms: Turn the Lights Off - Tally Hall

Cartoon: Duck Sauce - Barbra Streisand

Clone: I think I'm a clone now - Weird Al

Cyberpunk: Organic Self - Noisecream

Demon Banana: Demons - Imagine Dragons / Phoenix - ft.Cailin Russo and Chrissy Costanza

Dragon Pilot: Dragon Pilot Hisone to Masotan outro

Escaped Experiment: Monster - dodie

Explosive Personality: MINECRAFT CREEPER RAP - Dan Bull

Farmer: DON'T TOUCH MY CLOGS - OCT

Ghost: Ghost - Confetti

Godhunter: Godhunter - Aviators

Honey I shrunk the kid: So What - Three Days Grace

It's just a game: Losing My Mind - Mystery Skulls

Life is a Highway: Life is a Highway - Rascal Flatts (from the Cars OST) / Wanderlust King - Gogol Bordello

Mad Guy Dead: MAD RAT HEART from the Mad Rat Dead OST

Mad Switch: Fuck You - Lily Allen

Magic: Dementia - Owl City ft. Mark Hoppus / ROACHES - Luluyam (I picked these songs because Mage is psychotic because of everything he went through)

Mountains: Les bronzés font du ski

Murder Drones: Disassembly Required - Liam Vickers

Mutant: Captive Normal from the Hi-Fi Rush OST (PLEASE CHECK THIS GAME OUT) / I'm My Own Master Now (Platinum Mix) from the Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance OST

Nyankees: meow - lvusm

Pacific Rim: Pacific Rim main theme

Phoenix: Phoenix - Netrum & Halvorsen

Pokemon: The Journey Starts Today - Walk off the Earth

Portal: Who I am - CG5

Post-Apocalypse: Survive - SOARA / Wasteland Outlaw - MAJESTY

Radioactive: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

Reaper: The Man Comes Around - Johnny Cash

Sailing Seas: The Seven Seas - F-777 / Master of Tides - Lindsey Stirling

Sea Monster: Ocean Man - Ween

Simulation Collapsing: ECHO [Cover] - Alfakyun

Space: Starman - David Bowie

Spare: I Can't Decide - Scissors Sisters

Super Pedro Odyssey: Steam Gardens from the Super Mario Odyssey OST

Supers: Speed of Light - Joe Satriani / New Type of Hero - Chatterbox (from To Be Hero X)

Swap: Sweet About Me - Gabrielle Cilmi

Tanuki: Heisei era Tanuki War (Spirited Season) from the Pompoko OST

Therianthropy: Wild Slide - Jules Gaia / T-Rex - K.Flay (from Nimona)

Time Agent: This Time - PXL

Time God: Temporal Tower from the Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky OST

Time Loop: Stuck in a Timeloop - Animadrop

Totally Spies: Here We Go - Totally Spies season 1 opening

Turning Red: Pandas Unite/Nobody Like U from the Turning Red OST

Unaware Eldritch God: God - Jake Daniels

Untitled Friend Game: Goose Goose Revolution - TheLivingTombstone

Werewolf: Animal In Me - Solence / Moon Trance - Lindsey Stirling

Witch Vampire: Happy Halloween Rap ver. - nqrse

Zombie: Macabre Rotting Girl - Kathy-Chan / Stay Alive - FFM ft. Felix Bushe / INFECTED - STARSET

And EMPIRES by Electric Swing Circus isn't for an AU but I thought it was a good fit for vanilla Ophelia

And now for the Pedro-shaped bois (not AUs, but simply OCs who look like Pedro because I like drawing him okay)

Junkyard King: Junkyard King - Navie D

Rookie Mistake (AU where my sona is present): Idontgivea***k - Rabbit Junk

Gizmo: Master and Servant - Depeche Mode

[nihiladditaenihilperdidi]

Bikes Pt. 1 || Rune + Anya || April 29th, 2024

Rune: "Happy birthday. I know you have a bike. Have another."

Anya: Oh my goooooosh. Sir, how is she going to ride two bikes?

Rune: "Like a pair of shoes. You pick what fits your Sunday."

Anya: "Or you can ride one. Let's go."

Rune: "Where?"

Anya: "Anywhere. The park."

Rune: He jumps on one, one leg sticking out as he circles her.

Anya: "Ridiculous man." But she'll get on the other.

Rune: "New Orleans everything you hoped it would be?"

Anya: "I wasn't really hoping for anything. I didn't even know where I was going, until I got there. But it was wonderful. Humid. The people were great."

Rune: His brow furrowed, coming up to ride alongside her. "Work-related?"

Anya: She shook her head. "Lunch related."

Her own words made her laugh softly. "I met a little bird," she explained, glancing over at him to gauge his reaction. "Turns out, he was a familiar."

Rune: His reaction would be a squeaking halt on his - her - bike, dust catching up with his legs as he stared at her with utmost concern.

Anya: Welp. She slowed to a much more reasonable stop, feet dropping to the dirt to walk the bike back to where he lingered. "I'm fine." She'd just get that out of the way, first. "Better than fine. He was very kind."

Rune: Without thinking, he reached out to cup her jaw, looked her over as if for the first time. She was fine. This was fine. This was... fine.

"What... kind... was he? You said bird?"

Anya: She let him examine her, for his own peace of mind. Clearly, she was in perfect health.

"I don't know. He could turn into corvids. Raven, magpie. A crow, I'm assuming. I'm fine," she repeated.

Rune: "Right." He trusted himself, trusted his wards. Had the creature ill intent he would have had a violent coughing fit. Would have made some excuse to turn away. She was still in one piece.

"This is my fault. I brought this shit to your doorstep."

His arm came around her shoulders, face against her neck. Benign creature or not, it was still an effect of a cause.

Anya: She released one handle of the bike to wrap an arm around his waist, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"It's not your fault, because there is no fault. Nothing happened. He saw me feeding the animals and joined them. Stop that."

Rune: He would stop because she asked. Out loud, that is. Perhaps he should ward the barn, too. Just an extra precaution.

At last he leaned back. Squeezed the fuck out of the handles of his bike. "So," deep breath, get over this, "teleportation? Fancy."

Anya: She could see him overthinking this.   A gentle hand came to rest over his. "Relax."

Sighing softly, she settled back, nodding in the direction they'd been heading. "Yes, it was amazing. Like falling into nothing. So convenient."

Rune: Years ago he might have retreated. Pulled his hand away and shut his mind from hers. Refusing to do so took conscious effort. She meant well; she was fine. Didn't make the situation less concerning when he was certain the familiar magnetized to the wards to begin with, which were only there because of him, because of one little possession.

Whatever, don't overthink this.

"About as expensive as spells get." He pushed forward on his pedal, following at her left, naturally.

"Up there with fireballs and cracking a hole in the earth. Maybe moving a house. Turning a mouse into a whale..."

Anya: "It's possible to move a house?" Wild. But perhaps useful, if you were super attached to a place. She hummed as she considered what he said.

"Expensive... like of quintessence?"

Rune: "Did I teach you that?" he scoffed, managing a genuine smile.

Anya: "He did. He didn't go into too much detail, though. Said it was in everything, even mutants. And that mages can get more, from their familiars."

Rune: He could swear he'd said as much. No, he'd said her faith was as good as his own. Something along those lines, years ago. Really, a familiar showing him up was uncalled for.

"Mm. He's not a liar. Give him that."

Anya: "I didn't think he was. He's a sweetheart. I think you'd like him." Possibly. Eventually.

"He said he'd visit again. I'm going to attempt a batch of Zwetschkenknödel. We'll see."

Rune: That had him looking at her, just managing to keep straight. Call it luck.

"You're going to cook?"

Anya: If she wasn't riding, she would have whacked him for the question.

"I said I was going to try. Be nice."

Rune: "I didn't mean anything by it." But he was smiling. Looking ahead, he closed his eyes, leaned back in his seat and held his arms out.

Anya: "Sure you didn't. I'm calling my mama for the recipe, at some point." She looked at him, smiling softly at the display. Beautiful.

"Better than the truck?" she asked, chuckling.

Rune: "Mm." He slowly returned his hands where they belonged, sighing. He needed that. A moment of silly risk. Of wind, of just her voice and darkness behind his eyelids.

"You want me here when you do?"

Anya: "When I do what? Call my mother? Or try to make the dumplings?"

Rune: "Either. Both."

Anya: Her smile was soft. Warm as spring. "Yes, if you want to be. You can try them, too. If they turn out."

Rune: "You say that. 'If I want,' when I'm offering you because I want to be with you."

Anya: That smile threatened to grow. She bit down on it, nodding.

"Just yes, then. I want you there. And I want you to try them." A beat. "But only after I do. Just in case."

Rune: His smile burst into a laugh, brief but genuine. He kept his eyes on the road, knowing if he were to look at her his smile would simply ache.

"Right. Have it your way."

Anya: "They have to be just right!" she insisted, laughing along as easily as breathing. "If you don't like them, it won't be because of my cooking."

Or what passed for it. "Or yours. I've seen you chop fruit. You can watch."

Rune: "Oh! Hey now, I'm not involved," he laughed.

Anya: "You're definitely involved." A grin. "From a distance."

The gentlest teasing. Neither of them belonged in a kitchen. But the idea of having him there through the trial was exciting. She rode in silence for a bit as she thought about it, before her mind drifted elsewhere.

"Did you find whoever it was you were looking for?"

Rune: From such a lovely little nonsense conversation about how terrible and unwelcomed they were in the kitchen, to Aoi Ueno. His smile was a thing of the recent past.

"Mm."

Anya: She didn't intend to steal his smile. Rather than linger on her unintended blunder, she pressed forward.

"That's good. So... have you ever spent time in New Orleans?"

Rune: "No." He should say more. Explain, maybe. Something. He took a breath.

"Enough hunters, vampires, and everything else. They don't need me."

Anya: "And you never go anywhere you aren't needed? Just... for fun?"

Rune: "Coney Island. North Carolina. Upstate New York."

Anya: "Touche." Her shoulders rose and fell. "It's a nice city. I'd go back, to see more of it. I didn't get to snuggle an alligator, yet."

Rune: She was given a look, then. "Yeah? Just a cuddle?"

Anya: "Of course. Think of all of the poor alligators out there who've never been hugged. It's a crime. Heartbreaking."

Rune: "Probably a reason for that. Giant mouth. Rows of teeth. Probably something to do with it."

Anya: She lifted a hand to wave it dismissively. "They can't help that. Doesn't mean they don't deserve a little love. Even if I have to do it myself."

Rune: "That's just who you are. Loving all the - the unlovable."

Anya: "No one is unlovable." Not a shred of doubt in her tone. "Whoever it is. Someone out there is capable of loving them."

Rune: "That's the most optimistic thing you've ever said."

Anya: "It really isn't. It's the truth. And sometimes an ugly one." She shrugged again. "You don't spend enough time on the internet."

Rune: "For what? It's optimistic in my line of work. I -" The corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. "Anyway."

Anya: "It's useful." And entertaining, but that was a different conversation. She wasn't dying on the modernity hill.

"Even in your line of work," she disagreed, head shaking. What about this hill? Maybe not. "I could be wrong."

But she didn't think so. "Regardless, I'm going to snuggle those alligators. I'll let you know how it goes."

Rune: "You snuggle your alligators." She didn't know, and he'd prefer it stay that way. Let her continue believing it was simply exorcising demons from innocent people, gambling, and searching for missing people. It wasn't a terrible painting, and she could keep her optimism. It was preferable; he'd rather not take her smile.

He turned his bike just a little closer to hers, held his hand out.

Anya: Her mouth curved into that smile he wanted. She had no reason not to offer it. She couldn't know what he didn't share. Her wheel wobbled only a bit as she took that offered hand; she righted herself quickly.

"He liked your wards. The familiar. Said they were strong. I didn't doubt it, but it was good to hear anyway. Have you ever had one?"

Rune: There would be no lacing their fingers, only in case something unexpected happened. But his grip was firm and loving just the same.

Just another first with her.

"Of course they are," said with casual confidence. He shook his head. "Only met one."

Anya: That easy confidence had her smiling, pleased as punch. "Yeah? What was he like?"

Rune: "Still. Elegant. Patient. A spider."

Anya: Her eyebrows rose, at that. "A spider? Interesting. I wonder if they get to choose their form. I didn't think to ask."

Which was a surprise, considering just how much she did ask.

Rune: "I can give you a history lesson. Someone I knew kept a journal all about them. Something to read when snowed in."

Anya: "I'd love that!" She beamed at him, meaning it to her very core. "They're remarkable. Animals who can turn into people? Can do magic? You can probably imagine how excited I was."

Rune: He didn't mean to laugh. He was supposed to be upset, wasn't he? But her enthusiasm was infectious as always.

He squeezed her hand. My love.

"Take with a grain of salt. She didn't have a familiar when I knew her. She had one, once. Nearly died when it - when she died saving her. She called it a bond. They can die of heartbreak and it was similar for her. She said it felt like she couldn't will Quintessence to her bidding for over a year."

Anya: That was a sound she loved to hear. Her grin broadened for just a moment before her expression grew thoughtful. She nodded, gaze distant, not really seeing the familiar path ahead.

"Makes sense. If you're tied so closely to another person, losing them would be devastating. You can tell how much the little bird loves his witch, just by listening to the way he talks about her."

Rune: "Having one drove her to insanity," he said, quietly. The words left his tongue without permission. How much was too much was still touch and go, but, it was a lesson she sought, and he'd rather give what he knew than some little bird.

He shook his head. He'd leave that there, for the moment.

"She had them categorized by rank and abilities in her grimoire. Maybe her familiar told her. Companion types, combat, mentors, mischievous. Everything from rats, bats, machines," he hesitated, "body parts."

There was a movie with something akin to...

"What was it called, the hand in that one movie... With the little girl in black?"

Anya: "Having one or losing one?" The clarification seemed important. She listened patiently, nodding along as she took in new information to consider. Her eyebrows rose at those last two. Interesting, for sure, but not as appealing as animals. Again, she wondered if they got to choose their forms.

"Little girl...? Oh! The Addams Family. Thing. Didn't know he was considered a familiar, but I guess that makes sense."

Rune: "She had pages dedicated to drawings. That thing from the film, almost exactly. A typewriter with teeth - yeah. Machines."

But, her question required walking back a bit. "I knew her after the fact, so I can't say."

Anya: She hummed, considering. The latter made more sense to her, but maybe that was just her view of the world coming into play.

"I definitely want to read it." If only to supplement whatever she learned from Vincent. Different perspectives to form a fuller picture.

"Glad I met a bird. I could feel his mind, you know? Like any other bird, but more... human. Maybe that's not the right word. Structured."

Rune: "You're not supposed to read someone else's grimoire. She didn't... care at the time." He nearly cleared his throat. Swallowed down the desire.

"He didn't do anything untoward?" Don't mind him; his age was showing.

Anya: "Oh. Never mind, then." She didn't know the rules, and she had no intention of breaking them. The last thing she needed was for some pissed-off witch to put a curse on her. She remembered asking Vincent if he was going to turn her into a toad, and had to bite down on a laugh.

"Untoward?" She snorted softly, head shaking. "Not at all. Like I said, he was very kind. He played with babies and danced with an elderly woman. I don't think I was in any danger."

Rune: How very, very lucky. He had swallowed down one emotion but sighed the next one without disguise. The park would be welcome at this point. He knew just what he was going to do when they got there.

But, something caught his attention.

"You said he could be more than one bird?"

Anya: "Mhmm. Different birds in the family Corvidae. He was a raven when he landed on my fence. Very fond of pears."

Rune: "Huh." He'd never heard of that before, but then again, he reminded himself, he'd only met one. Didn't matter how many books he'd read.

Something to jot in his own book, if he remembered.

"You're insatiable now, aren't you?" he asked, finally letting go of her hand.

Anya: She grinned, letting her hand settle back on her handlebar. "I wouldn't say insatiable. But it's nice to know something."

Something was the right word. Vincent had kept mum about certain subjects, too. Maybe that was a trait of the magically gifted. Maybe she just had rotten luck.

"He gave me a few rules about fae, too. Don't say thank you. Don't give something for nothing. I'm basically a goner, if I ever run into one.

Rune: "I told you," he smirked, "throwing apples at confused gods. Same principle. You don't say thank you. You don't refuse, either, but don't eat unless you see them eat first. There's a whole host of rules."

Anya: "So I've learned. He never did tell me how to spot one. Well, he said they have rainbow auras. Not exactly useful."

The park was just past the next turn. Pretty close, all things considered. She pulled onto the paved path that circled the grassy field and the small playground, slowing to a stop.

Rune: Rune leaned the bike against the tree and stretched. The area was clean, and the grass lush. Perfect for what he intended. He walked a ways in, looking for an area near a tree with a good bit of sunshine to crumble onto his back and sprawl.

Anya: She laughed at the display, leaving her bike beside the first. She crossed the grass to join him, folding herself down to sit beside him. "Tired?"

Rune: He shook his head. "Warm." A little big thing to enjoy while the clouds remained parted. He couldn't recall the last time he had basked in the sun like this. It always seemed to be raining where he ended up.

It had been since Christmas since laying eyes on her. Despite months of absence, he felt no pressing sense of urgency. Every other day he was reminded of their goodbye, their embrace. Being here, he didn't know what he'd expected.

"Hey..."

Anya: "Mm." The joys of spring. Her favorite season. He had the right idea about basking in it. She shut her eyes, tilted her face up toward the sun.

"Yes?"

Rune: Multiple questions vied for authority. Ones to push her away. Ones to affirm what had happened was real. So many nights he damn near believed he'd fabricated the experience as some umbral trick of his memories.

Only one way to confirm.

"I love you."

Anya: The words forced the air from her lungs. Anya hadn't forgotten that night, or the morning that had followed. How could she? And it had taken so long for him to return... she'd half worried he wouldn't. She'd been determined not to ruin everything by being presumptuous. But she could be nothing but honest, now.

She filled her aching lungs with a deep breath. Her eyes opened and dropped to meet his.

"I love you. Still." The smallest smile lifted one corner of her mouth. "Have for years."

Rune: His dark gaze met her beautiful greens. Her addition perked the corner of his mouth. This was real. She was real. He'd had to tell himself that before.

"Years?" His hand came to rest over his ribs. "When? Do you remember?"

Anya: She dragged a hand down her face, the act doing nothing to muffle a breathless little laugh.

"No. Maybe?" The memories were colored by her current feelings. She couldn't pinpoint an exact moment.

"Back when I lived in the Bronx, for sure. Maybe it started when you showed up with that damn penguin. I don't know."

Rune: Closing his eyes was easier on his breathing, and kept his world from being a sea of green. His laugh was equally breathless.

"I've always loved you. It's just... evolved. I didn't know what you wanted. Part of me didn't want to know." If he couldn't explain now, when would he ever? Best to continue where they had left off months ago when she struggled to tell him the truth. The tears he never wanted to see again.

But, he could give her something lighter.

"I realized I wanted to kiss you on your birthday. That karaoke bar. What was her name... Destiny?" he scoffed. "I wanted to kiss you... so much."

Anya: She burst into laughter, then. The real kind that had her tipping back against the grass, hands covering her face. It took a bit for her to calm enough to catch her breath, gasping as she stared up at tree-dappled sunlight.

"G-d, Rune. I spent that entire night wanting to kiss you. Except for the five minutes I wanted to tear that stupid napkin to pieces. I blamed it on the alcohol, but I was just in denial. I felt the same way so many times, after. Stone cold sober."

Rune: His eyes opened to watch her, without realizing he was smiling, with nothing but sweet humor on his features. He brought his other hand behind his head as a cushion.

Reality didn't have to kick him so hard in the diaphragm. He could have this.

"I remember the moment when I knew it was nothing else." Eyes closed again. "The Ferris wheel."

He had a feeling she could fill in the blanks, so he continued.

 "I knew, and I was... so... disappointed. In myself. Because I'll never be a man that can give you the life you deserve."

He had said as much in December, but saying it now, he didn't want to open his eyes and see what he had done.

"...But I thought, if she'll keep me as is, then it's more than I deserve. Just shut the fuck up and enjoy."

Anya: "Really?" She recalled the moment, of course. He'd told her about being an exorcist. She'd been determined to give him a day of peace. And maybe she'd been trying ever since. Maybe that's why she'd felt her confession ruined everything. That look of pain on his face... she didn't want to revisit it.

And here was the sentiment he'd offered all over again. It didn't hurt any less, but she'd had months to re-center herself. She could make one thing abundantly clear.

She rolled onto her side, cheek pillowed on her open palm so she could study him as she spoke.

"Deserve? What does that even mean? What you deserve; what I deserve. You don't owe me anything. You don't have to earn my love. It's yours. Just as you are."

Rune: He would take a moment to bask in her voice and sentiment like the sun, before opening his eyes to face her.

"I can't agree. Love is..." Did he have any room to give his opinion, when he'd never experienced romance wholesomely?

"I don't like it. Not owing. It's not... It's not... committed. It's too casual. Love is..." Every explanation was too revealing. "...Love is a home. I'm not a home."

Anya: "Who told you that?" His smile was home. His laugh. His arms. That he doubted his meaning to her was nothing short of heartbreaking. "Do you believe me? When I tell you how I feel? Do you trust that?"

Rune: Could he just say it? People these days didn't simply say what they were feeling. Not in any meaningful way. They skirted around the topic. They danced. It wasn't even elegant poetry. But to just give - he understood why she struggled. Saying it was one thing. Explaining another entirely.

"I don't doubt what you feel. What I mean is..." He looked to the branches above them, like an intricate nervous system. "...When I was little, I had a neighbor." He was certain he had mentioned her. "She saved me from my father. She cared for me ever since. No matter what, I knew she was next door. Every day. I could rely on her. If she needed anything, she could rely on me. Every morning I'd sneak into her room and light her fire."

Anya: Anya nodded. She remembered. That woman she privately loved, for taking care of a little boy who needed it. Still a wonder of a woman, in her eyes. As much as her own parents.

"You told me about her," she said when he'd finished, quiet as a whisper just audible over the warm breeze. "That's... beautiful. She was a beautiful person, and I wish she was still around. But I knew who you were from the beginning, Rune. Maybe not exactly, but I knew that your work kept you on the move. I haven't forgotten."

Rune: He turned to mirror her stance. "And you're all right with that? Wouldn't you prefer someone you could come home to every day?"

Anya: She gave a helpless little shrug. "I love you. I want you. I can't lie to you and say I don't wish you could stay, but that's the truth. It would be the truth, regardless."

Rune: "That makes me a very selfish man to look at that and smile and not say... I'd be happy for you if you found someone better than me."

But, knowing she would reject his words, he reached out, fingers hovering just shy of her jaw. He could be selfish, for a little while. With her blessing.

"Can I?" Kiss you.

Anya: She scoffed. "Better, he says. If you're selfish, then so am I. I could have kept my mouth shut."

She'd managed to do just that, for years. Her heart felt like it was going to leap free of her chest, but she nodded. "Yes."

Rune: For six years he'd kissed every part of her face but her lips. Come dangerously close, in December, to risking everything for a mutual yearning. The price of caution. It was better to have waited, he thought. For their first kiss to be not a goodbye, but a hello. In a place of warmth.

No more hesitation, then. He cradled her face in his hand, leaned forward and offered his lips. Not a clumsy hungry crash, but an invitation. A savor.

Anya: Exactly as it ought to have been. Far sweeter than whatever they might have managed that drunken night years ago, desperate and half-remembered.

Selfish, she'd said. And there was truth to it. She wanted to keep this moment. Bottle it.

A gentle hand came to rest on his chest, lingering there as she kissed him, slow and sweet.

She pulled back before she could surrender to the impulse to drag him closer, pressed her forehead to his without opening her eyes.

Rune: Better than it might have been. Better than karaoke night, or the Wonder Wheel, or saturated in the taste of tears and desperation. Better than he could have hoped, or still, deserved. But that was his little secret. He didn't know what to call this, other than love. She was his best friend. His dearest. While she fantasized of bottling the memory, his very intention was to do just that. If ever he meandered his way back to Willemstad.

She pulled back, and he leaned forward. His stomach was a pit filled with batting wings. Skin flushed warm from fingertips to his thighs. He felt young, and chased his high with a breath, caught still when she pressed her forehead to his.

Easy now. Easy.

Anya: Surely, everyone in love felt like they'd invented the feeling. Like no one before them could have felt something so intensely. Anya was no exception. That was as perfect a first kiss as anyone had ever experienced. She'd bet her last dollar on it.

Absolutely perfect.

And with it etched flawlessly in stone, she could afford to indulge. Just a little. She'd waited so long. They had.

The hand on his chest slid up to the side of his neck, fingertips just brushing the ends of his hair, curious if his pulse hammered as violently as her own. She kissed him again. Because she could. Because she had to. Just a taste of that desire she'd buried for so long.

Rune: Hammered it did. Not a frantic race, but deep relentless thrumming in his ears. It soothed him.

And so too did her mouth. Rather than lean forward, insisting her body flat against the grass, he did the opposite. His fingers buried in her curls, he laid back. His other hand on her waist, she was encouraged power, encouraged over him, to do as little or as much as she pleased.

Anya: That shift caught her by surprise, but it was not an unpleasant one. She kept her palm pressed to his pulse, solid reassurance that he felt as she did. That this was real.

She deepened the kiss with his encouragement, forgetting everything but the two of them. For a moment. She sought the taste of him.

But this was a public park. And though there was no one there when they arrived, that could change at any moment. She pulled back with a shuddering breath, face flushed. She bit down on a smile, feeling positively giddy. Ridiculous. She buried the expression in the crook of his neck.

Rune: She sought taste, and he offered his tongue. Warmer than any part of his body she had yet felt. Fingers, still cool to the touch, massaged the back of her neck. Her hair was a curtain, making their world just a little more private.

Her stuttered breath gave him pause, but her smile rejuvenated his soul, and he laughed when he felt her nose against his skin.

"Ukrywanie?" He nuzzled against her.

Anya: "Nie." She absolutely was. Not from him. From her own ridiculous heart. "Kochasz mnie."

Words mumbled against his skin like she could trap them there. The Anya of five years prior would not have believed it. Hell, the Anya of five months ago wouldn't have, either.

"You still have the best laugh, you know."

Rune: Her hair was slowly parted to her other side, opening the curtain to find a family of five settling in on the other side of the park. Best they stopped when they had, but he wasn't ready to separate. They'd had enough of that.

"Silly spatzi." He held her face in both hands and sighed. He needed to see her. Admire as freely as they could tolerate.

"There's no equivalent of 'I love you' in Dutch. Love isn't a verb. You know what we say?"

Anya: She was focused on him, not anyone else. Had she spotted that family, she might have buried her face even deeper. He could look his fill, but there were few she granted the privilege of such vulnerability. Even he hadn't seen her scar in its entirety. Not yet?

His touch soothed the warmth in her cheeks. She gave the smallest shake of her head. "No. What?"

Rune: His thumbs slowly swept and circled her cheeks. She was warm, but he didn't have to question why. Plenty of reasons, good ones.

"To hold. You say, 'I'm holding you.' Ik hou van jou. Or you say, Ik hou je vast. 'I'm holding you tight.'"

Anya: "Ik hou je vast," she repeated, slowly. A little clumsily. Testing out the words, yes, but also a declaration. Her smile was warmer than the spring air, or her own face.

"That's beautiful. I like it.  Ik hou je vast." Better, that time. Still imperfect.

Rune: "Ik hou van jou," he whispered, smiled a layered smile. Surreal, beautiful, lingering concern, and vivid elation. Lust. He couldn't pretend it didn't exist. No sense in trying, anymore.

Anya: Anya could lower her head to kiss him, again. The realization was positively dizzying. She might have done just that, if not for the child's bright laughter she could hear. Relatively distant, but too close all the same.

Just a quick one, then. It held an unspoken desire she'd be happy to explore. Later. She wasn't inclined to move, just yet. She shifted to pillow her head on his shoulder. Let's just lie here, for a while. Enjoy the sun.

Rune: For every swift kiss, she would find him chasing her lips, realizing too late he would just have to be patient. A different kind of torture than he was accustomed.

His head fell back in the grass with a sigh. One hand resting gently on her cheek, the other combed through his hair, squeezed. Yes, that was pain. This was still real.

Just a week ago he was hunting with Rhys' coterie. He could hardly call his fingers stain-free, but she didn't... care. Didn't notice. Loved him anyway. A concept he would continue to struggle.

But he could just lay there, quiet, caressing her, and live in the moment.

Anya: She couldn't indulge as she desired in such a public space, but that hardly meant that she didn't appreciate his chasing mouth. She smiled privately at the sigh that followed. Her hand slid down to settle against his chest, again.

There would be no gradual drift into sleep. Despite the warmth. Despite the breeze. Despite the steadiness of Rune's breathing. This wasn't a moment to be wasted on a nap. Instead, she replayed the taste of his lips and the sensation of his fingers in her hair. She thought of all the time she'd craved exactly this. Moments collected over half a decade.

"I've never been to your place in Brooklyn," she said, apropos of nothing. Her voice was low enough that it was barely audible over breeze and birdsong. "I want to see it."

 Rune: The warmth tempted more than sleep. He felt restful. Calm. He didn't want to close his eyes and miss any subtleties. He just wanted to exist with her.

The statement stumbled his heart and he didn't know why at first. It was reality, tapping a jagged finger on his temple. He had offered years ago. He had to accept this.

"It's more a um... haven, than my house, you know." Some of her hair was curled around his finger. "Okay. Whenever you want."

Anya: Hesitation. She didn't know what caused it. Maybe it had been an emergencies-only offer. She still didn't see herself requiring it. Now, like then, she made being able to look after herself a priority.

"It's fine. I was just thinking about it. My birthday. Walking past my building so the night would last a little longer. I don't miss that flat, but I do miss the zoo. My neighbor. Having everything close by."

Rune: "We can make a day of it. See your old friends. The portal, before, that's my home. Willemstad. What you'll see at Hillkate, grain of salt." The please was in his tone.

"You've always been welcome. I just wanted..." He scoffed, shook his head. "Never mind."

Anya: "No 'never mind.'" She brushed her nose against his cheek, gave his chest a gentle tap with her fingertips. None of that. "What did you want?"

Rune: He took her fingers and studied them. Rolled his thumb over each one. "Wanted you to just show up."

Anya: "I couldn't have." She shook her head, eyes closing against the very thought. "Just show up? I don't know what I would've done if you told me to leave. Moved back to Poland, probably."

Rune: "To leave?" He tried to move just enough to look at her. "Why would...?" But, she wasn't wrong. Not entirely. Never would he have told her to leave. But at his worst, he would have looked at her with dead eyes. Those nights staring at blank walls. A different kind of sitting in existence.

"How... deep... do you want this to go?"

Anya: She would meet his gaze unflinchingly. She'd spoken the truth. Anya had been terrified of asking too much, even then. Not a risk she'd been brave enough to take. December had been... different.

"How deep do I want what to go?"

Rune: He shouldn't have asked. The question opened a formidable door with a jagged knob. He refused to regret her, but he might regret himself.

"We can stay like this. Visiting you. All of this. The more you know of me, the... less you might appreciate loving me."

Anya: "I want to know." Had he doubted her answer for a second? Truly? "I always have. From that first night."

Rune: "Always is pretty bold."

Anya: She gave him a look. She'd said what she'd said. "It's the truth. You liked to evade my questions. I didn't learn about what you did until that day at Coney Island."

Rune: "It's what I do," he shrugged. "I love you, and I dodge your questions like bullets."

Anya: "Yes, I know. And I really love you, because that's the most frustrating shit in the world. You're so stubborn. But you know that."

Rune: Of course he did, because he was smiling at the sky.

"You've no room to speak."

Anya: "Me? Nie. I used to think I was stubborn, but that was before I met you. It's not even a competition. You do that... that stare until you get your way." Never mind that she would square her shoulders and stare right back. Beside the point.

Rune: "Ja? Where are the gold coins I gave you? I know you found them."

Anya: "Um." Damn. "They're in a safe place."

Rune: Slow breath. She should know what's coming. "Anyaaaaa."

Anya: She did know, but it didn't stop her from needing to turn her face against his shoulder to muffle a laugh. "You can't 'Anya' me for that! You left an actual bag of gold under my pillow. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Rune: "Auction!"

His arms wrapped around her shoulders then. Swayed just a little. Caught in the moment as if for the first time. How many times he'd be swept up by her he didn't know.

Anya: "Auction, he says!" She was still laughing. "Seriously?"

Anya was secure in that embrace, turning her head to press a kiss to the side of his face. She hadn't given the coins back. Or away. It was progress, of a sort. He was an exception to the rule.

"It's... an emergency fund. Something will break, eventually. Or I'll need to take time off, for whatever reason. I do appreciate it."

Rune: Her warmth was damn near a distraction from the pressing question he had. If not for the family across the park...

"Emergency fund," he sighed. "When do you have time to relax? Who's going to watch them when we go to the city?"

Anya: "I relax!" Perhaps not as often as she used to, but that was part of actualizing her dream. She didn't regret it. "Call the neighbors. Hire a service if they can't help out. It's what I do when I go camping, or to visit my parents. I make it work."

Rune: So she said. Sometimes their similarities were just as dangerous as their differences. Workaholics in their own right.

"One of those'll happen tomorrow?" he asked, arms still firm around her shoulders. By now he was petting her. Cradling her preciously.

Anya: "It can, I'm sure." The nature of this nearness was new, maybe. But it was like breathing. They'd always found excuses to touch. "Are we going tomorrow?"

Rune: In this their thoughts were one. He tried to recall the first time she held his hand. It wasn't coming to him.

"If nothing's stopping you, nothing's stopping me," he decided.

Anya: "I'll make a couple of calls." Spontaneity. Not something she could afford all that much, these days. Once again, an exception.

Vincent's way of travel was really something to be envied. To pop over to another state and be back before dinner.

"I need my own familiar. A teleporting lizard, or something. Maybe a gecko. Something small enough to carry."

Rune: "It's one of the more difficult magicks to master." He still wasn't comfortable with what had happened, but nothing doing. He also didn't know what was worse: the idea of Anya as a mage, or her bond with a familiar.

"You have something better. You've an army at your disposal."

Anya: "Seems like it would be worth the effort. Just for the time it would save."

She chuckled, at that. It was an interesting take on her power. Leave it to Rune.

"An army? Maybe. But an army doesn't help me see the mountains whenever I want. Or get homemade jarzynowa. Or... I don't know. Stick my feet in a river."

She waved a hand. Just rambling.

"If I ever need to run somebody off with a bear, I'm golden."

Rune: "Is that you putting your power down, spatzi? Better not be."

He raised his hand from her hair, scoffed. "I think I'm trapped."

Anya: "Of course not. You know how proud I am of my ability. I wouldn't want to do anything else. I'm just talking."

She lifted from his shoulder, hands moving to disentangle him. She laughed softly. "Sorry."

Rune: "My fault. I'm playing with your hair like a five-year-old." But there was a distinct absence of shame in his tone. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do, and now she was holding his hand, if only to set him free.

Anya: How convenient. She threaded her fingers with his, her laughter quiet and knowing. "No, no. I like it. And I can't really blame you, anyway. I play with it all the time. It's strangely entertaining."

Rune: "It soothes you." That much he'd always known.

But now he was watching their hands, expression soft.

Anya: "Mm." She supposed. She didn't think about it much. He'd pointed out something similar before, hadn't he? Years ago. "It's a distraction, I guess."

Her free hand went to his hair, stroking through the grown-out roots, the faded color. "You haven't touched this since, have you?"

Rune: The shake of his head could have been mistaken for his own pulse. He hadn't touched it since. Allowing it to fade to some sun-kissed brunette with orange hints. The usual after a dye job.

"You want another color?"

Anya: "Do you?" Callused fingers stroked along his scalp. Touching for the sake of touching, now. "I don't mind playing stylist, again. It didn't turn out too bad, last time. But it wasn't dyed, before. I don't know if you can trust me with bleach."

Rune: All of that touching was as comforting as the sun. Eyes closing, breathing slow.

"We can just get a box of black, or red," he shrugged. "Doesn't matter what color I am with those." The corner of his mouth curled and tightened. "Unless you like this."

Anya: "I like this." In truth, she'd seen him go through a number of styles. She'd found fault with none of them, but that was definitely bias. He could dye it purple and be no less appealing. "But whenever you want to change it again, I'm your girl. I don't know where I'd be without YouTube."

Rune: "You're my girl," he echoed, feeling the weight of bliss in that meaningful sentence.

Anya: "Yes." Her laugh was a quiet huff of air. She'd always been quick to laugh, to smile, but this was getting out of hand. She had to reel it in. But she'd had a taste of those lips and she wanted more. A feather-light kiss to the hinge of his jaw would have to be enough.

"A public park really was not the place to have this conversation."

Rune: "I think it's perfect," he grinned. Lord have mercy, he was grinning. "We'll look back on this and say, 'Oh how romantic.'" But, he would also say, this kept him in check. Had he the first taste of her lips in her home, he wasn't certain where they would be, but he was certain where he would want them to be.

"Where do you want to go?"

Anya: "You're probably right." And he likely was. That didn't make her any more patient in the here and now. Future Anya and her memories were the least of her concern. She couldn't look at that grin for another second, turning her head to stare up at the leaves, battling her own face-aching smile.

"I want... to know when was the last time you sat on a playground swing."

Rune: He didn't have to think about the answer. Just shook his head. "My mentor had a rope swing in his backyard for his niece. I'd sometimes sit out there and read." He supposed that home was his playground, in its own way.

Anya: "And how long ago was that?" She didn't have to wait for an answer to know that it was too long. She sat up without releasing his hand, already missing the press of his body against hers. But she could hear the rhythmic slap of running shoes against concrete and knew that they had even more company. If she lay there a moment longer she'd combust.

"Come on."

Rune: "That would be... 1883," he sighed. At some point, giving dates would become a burden, wouldn't it? She would grow tired of hearing his age. She was going to call him an old man again. Yet despite this, he smiled, sitting up with a yawn and a stretch, taking her hand with. He really didn't care. She'd tell him he was being silly.

"To home?"

Anya: She let out a low whistle. Would she ever be able to wrap her head around those types of dates? It felt like another world. But then, so did the Umbra he'd told her about. He was simply an impossible man.

"Definitely too long," she said, confirming her own assumption out loud. Her mouth curved into a private little smile at that word. Home. Whether he really meant it or it was just a turn of phrase, it warmed her.

"To the swings. Of course."

Rune: "Oh. Of course." For once, he wasn't on alert. No aura reading, no time skipping; he brushed against no one's mind but her own.

It was a park in upstate New York. The one benefit of her living here was a small peace of mind, but, a familiar had him questioning that. And a demon.

"I should put a swing in your yard," he mused. Even standing, their hands were one.

Anya: He'd receive no argument from Anya, on this subject. It was the sort of offer that didn't leave her feeling like she was taking more than she could give. She beamed, plucking bits of grass from her hair as she nodded.

"Yes. Yes, you should. There's a nice tree back there I think would work."

She didn't hurry across the grass to the little playground, taking her time to reach the row of swings. She didn't release him when she claimed one.

Rune: He'd never once installed a swing, but he knew knots, and that was all that really mattered. A quality rope that wouldn't tear her skin was second priority to falling from a shitty knot.

Odd, that a little off-hand project like this would make him... excited. It was benign.

He took to the swing beside her.

"I'll do it before I leave. I have some other things to give you, too."

Anya: She kicked off, looking only for a breeze to tickle her skin. Thoughts of daredevil jumps and scraped knees of yesteryear had her chuckling to herself.

"What things?"

Her necklace, she figured. She'd been missing it, but she was waiting to ask. The park had been an unexpected detour. But what else?

Rune: "Patience," he smiled, barely swinging. His arms wrapped around the chains on either end, letting himself simply exist in suspension.

Anya: "Ruuuuuuuuune." She borrowed his familiar tone, though she didn't quite manage to look irritated with her gentle hint of a smile.

She leaned back and shut her eyes, letting the wind tease through her hair. Not near as dizzying as an amusement park ride, but centering nonetheless.

Rune: He was up from his swing when her eyes closed. Soon behind her, gentle fingertips pressed to her lower back, pushing her forward.

Anya: Anya's eyes opened on the upswing, head tipping back just a little further. She offered her upside down Rune a brilliant smile. If he wanted to lend his hands, she wasn't complaining. "Higher."

Rune: Higher, then. He pushed more firmly, taking a step back to avoid collision. His smile wrinkled his eyes and cheeks. She looked so free, so relaxed. More than he could say he'd ever seen before, and in his presence that was saying something.

Anya: Well, why not? She could afford a little playfulness on such a beautiful day. Of course, she had more than sunny skies to buoy her spirits. She'd swing until she gained enough height, and fling herself from the seat at the very top. She landed neatly on her feet, laughing. No scraped knees. She wasn't nine, anymore.

"Ready to head back?" she asked, turning to face him.

Rune: Never in his life had Rune wished more to know a spell in the sphere of Forces than that moment. If she had hurt herself there was nothing he could have done to prevent injury, only a flimsy healing spell. His heart skipped a beat, but still, he laughed. Came around to her side offering his hand.

"Wherever you want."

Anya: If she'd been aware of his worries, she'd have dismissed them. She took his hand as easily as she always did, holding it briefly between both of hers.

"Wherever I want, hm? I could say the moon."

Or just meander across the grass to where they'd left the bikes. She still couldn't quite believe he'd shown up with one.

Rune: "You can say anything and I'll try." Keyword try. He didn't want her expectations skyrocketing with their exchange of love.

Which begged the question, what were they?

"Anya..."

Anya: That had her laughing softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I appreciate it, but I think we can stay on the planet for now."

She looked over at her name. "Hmm?"

Rune: Inquiring labels, he decided, was silly and unnecessary. Thinking quickly, he asked, "What do you want for dinner?"

Anya: "Hm." She considered for a moment. Dinner was the furthest thing from her mind. "I'd say Indian, but if we're going to the city tomorrow, it doesn't make sense to make that drive right now. Breakfast for dinner? Or whatever, really. I'm flexible."

Rune: "Breakfast for dinner. Soft boiled eggs and toast." It didn't matter to him, either. It wasn't about the food but whom he was having it with. He kissed her hand and released, climbing back onto the pastel green bike.

Anya: "Sounds like a plan," she said, giving a decisive nod. Sure. One less thing to worry about later, she supposed. An impulse spurred her that she realized she could now act on. She stepped forward to take his face in both of her hands and press a kiss to his lips. Her smile was sunny when she backed away to claim the other bike, swinging a leg over with easy grace and pulling out onto the path. She trusted that he'd follow.

"A little early to be thinking about dinner," she mused aloud, glancing at him. "Are you hungry?"

Rune: The words had been said. They'd had their first kiss. And still, Rune was caught by such pleasant surprise to have his face cradled in warm hands and lips to adore. She couldn't just walk away from that. Not with his arm around her waist. He sat up from the seat of his bike and stole one for himself for good measure.

That felt so fucking good.

"Not really. But... we're learning to cook."

Anya: She was smiling like an idiot, she knew. She could feel it in the ache of her cheeks. But at least her heart had regained a normal rhythm after its stumble at his touch.

"Oh, are we?" she asked, eyebrows raised at him. She needed to watch where she was going. She forced her gaze back to the road. "More than the zwetschgenknödel?"

Rune: "More than zwetschgenknödel. Everything I can cook is in one hand. We can do better."

He didn't want her to be afraid of the stove anymore. He never wanted her to be afraid, but if this was one area he could help fix, why shouldn't he? It was what she deserved.

Rune rode ahead of her, only to circle her bike with a soft laugh.

Anya: There was no denying that the idea made her nervous. She'd avoided learning the skill with good reason, despite having been blessed with three parents who were gifted cooks. Memories of standing on a stool between her mother and father, helping the prepare meals were faded nearly to the point of nonexistence.

But she'd always felt safe in Rune's presence. It was worth a try, at least. "Ok. Yes, we can try it. But if dinner is inedible, I'm ordering takeout."

Her gaze followed him as he circled, laugh bright.

"Ridiculous man. What are you doing?"

Rune: "Mich? Gar nichts." He circled again, pinched - gently, mind you - at her ribs as he drove past.

Doing things, experiencing things he never got to in his youth. She gave him the safe space to do so. Besides, an hour or two from now, her patience and courage would be tested. He would rather she have something like this to look back on, if it helped at all.

Anya: She yelped, a sound which spilled into delighted laughter. "Hey! Lächerlicher Mann."

He was just as ridiculous in German, after all. "Wenn wir kochen wollen, müssen wir auf den Markt gehen. Ich habe keine Eier mehr."

She wobbled slightly as she pulled her phone from her pocket. They didn't have much time. Grinning, she put on a burst of speed, muscled legs pedaling hard.

"Keep up!"

Rune: "Aye Aye, Kapitän." The last time he'd been on a bike was Willemstad, and he didn't want to put forth the effort counting the months. Instead, he remained in bliss, watching her figure leave a trail of dust in her wake. Up he raised. No magic, just a human effort to match her speed and avoid the oncoming truck. A boxer's head sticking out the back window, ears and tongue taken by the wind.

Anya: A puppy! And never mind that the dog was clearly fully grown. She was still a darling baby. Anya waved without slowing. She couldn't lose her head start.  Well... maybe she could. Just enough for him to catch up.

Rune: Rune just laughed. He wanted to tell her to be careful at her speed, but she was fine flying off the swings, she'd be fine now. He would just position himself on the innermost part of the road, putting a barrier of himself between her and traffic. Action over words.

Anya: She noticed, of course. There was really nothing to say about it. He loved her. And she loved him all the more for the consideration, even if she would be perfectly fine.

The market could hardly be called such. It consisted of a handful of stalls in the back half of a hardware store parking lot. But the faces were familiar and the produce was as fresh as it got. She dismounted as they drew close, walking it the rest of the way.

"I guess I will be getting some use out of my new bike." After all, the one Rune had bought her had a basket.

Rune: Her statement caused a smug little smile. Indeed, she'd have to pedal with a little more caution, but the basket was there for this exact reason. And perhaps someday a lazy bird, fat raccoon, or curious cat.

"This where you always go?" For future reference. Last time he was at her home, they hadn't shopped.

Anya: Cheeky. But so cute it made her chest ache. She left her bike propped up on its kickstand by the stall on the end, not worried in the least about anything happening to it.

"Mm. Not always. I make the drive out to Costco to get things in bulk. Or the little grocery store in town, sometimes, but the produce is best here."

Rune: "How often are you microwaving meals?" Questions he'd never asked before just kept coming and coming. He didn't know what changes were about to happen, but, these sorts of questions were benign. They would still be themselves. Still order takeaway. Still avoid the kitchen most days. He would still be gone, eventually.

He had only just arrived. That truth was pushed aside.

"Eggs and what else?"

Anya: "Like... to cook them? Basically never? To reheat leftovers? Regularly."

The truth was the truth. She wasn't exactly ashamed, even if she did frequently get scolded for not eating enough. She ate plenty, but often raw. She had takeout most when Rune was around.

"Mm. I don't know. We can just browse." Eggs and toast didn't require anything else, really. But since they were already there, she'd take advantage and stock up.

"Eggs first," she decided, taking his hand and heading for the far end of the market.

Rune: "What do we need for zwetschgenknödel?" He glanced back to their bikes. Safe, of course. This wasn't the heart of any borough, but still. No harm.

The impulse to offer her gifts came like a skipped heartbeat, but for once he was without his coat. It was both warm enough and he was awake enough not to be concerned with its nearness. It was safe in her foyer, but he suddenly felt naked without it.

"Apples? Grapes?"

Anya: "Plums and potatoes. We'll have to make a trip to get the right ones. And I still have to call Mama."

She'd worry about that later.

"Eggs," she repeated, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. He seemed restless. She stopped before they reached the stand she was seeking. "Are you ok?"

Rune: "I know eggs," he scoffed, smiling. He squeezed her fingers.

"Ok," he assured. "I just... want to give your present. It's in my coat." He leaned in close, kissed her jaw, and lingered by her ear. "Stay out of my head," he teased.

Anya: Ah, yes. The present that she needed to be patient for. She resisted the urge to press him for answers again, only chuckling at his words.

"Did you grow wings when I wasn't looking?"

The man at the last stall looked to be in his fifties or sixties, he was all smiles for their approach, his gray eyes lingering on Rune for a moment before settling on her.

"Afternoon, Miss Anya!"

"Hi!" That gaze darted to the mage again and Anya took the hint.

"Rune, Douglas. Douglas, Rune."

"Good to meet you, young man."

She forced herself to bite down hard on a smile.

Rune: He couldn't very well tell her to be patient and be restless himself, but contradiction was human nature, and her excitement was rubbing off on him.

The comment turned his head, her hand still firmly in his. The man could look all he wanted; the exorcist was looking right back. Protective, nosy, or innocently curious. He would bet on the first two. This was Anya, after all. Her hand was switched to his left, offering his right for shaking, index finger coming out to check the man's pulse. He would never simply assume what someone was. Not anymore.

"Likewise," he greeted.

Anya: Nothing more than a human in decent enough health. Certainly nosy, and perhaps a little protective. Easily dismissed with her genuine smile. He gave Rune's hand a firm shake and looked back to a familiar face.

"What can I get you, today?"

"A dozen eggs and a pound of butter. How's Sue Ellen?" she asked, as he ducked to shift through his crates. She looked to Rune, reclaiming his right hand. "One of his cows."

"She's doing great! Much better. And if you'll take--"

Anya cut him off before he could finish. It was clearly an old argument. Her tone was firm. "I'm paying for the eggs, Doug."

Rune: She could have his right; holding hands was nothing new to their relationship, but wanting his hand at all times - and vice versa - was nothing short of refreshing to his soul. Romance abounds; he didn't believe he would ever be accustomed.

"Oh, you are?" An opening to tease would almost always be taken. Especially on this old, old subject. "We need to get you chickens," he said privately.

Anya: "Yes, I am." She'd look at Rune just as flatly as she had Douglas, the brightness in her eyes giving her amusement away.

"And what am I going to do with all of those eggs?" Well, they were learning to cook, apparently. Still.

Doug straightened, placing a carton of eggs and a brick of butter wrapped in beeswax paper on the counter. "Fifty cents," he said, gaze boring into Anya's.

She rolled her eyes and fished her wallet from her pocket. A quick hand slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter and snagged their purchase, swiftly tugging Rune away despite Doug's friendly protests.

Rune: She took the words right out of his thoughts. "We'll need three dozen eggs with what we're about to attempt." But, he wouldn't argue. They might get lucky and get it right the first time. He wouldn't allow anything to burn on his watch. For her sake.

And off they went. Rune didn't even bother looking back.

"I like Doug," he smirked.

Anya: She scoffed. "You would."

Anya wouldn't deny he was a good man. Friendly and kind. Stubborn as a boar, just like someone else she knew.

"So... we're doing soft-boiled eggs and toast. Are we trying to cook anything else? Or maybe just cut up some fruit?" She'd spotted some berries that looked fantastic.

Rune: "Craving grapes." Noticing her gaze, he meandered them over to the stall. "Do you realize how expensive they used to be? Or how you had to eat them There was a whole process."

Anya: "We can do grapes. What kind of process is involved in eating grapes? Spitting out seeds?"

Rune: Rune went into detail about the bygone intricacies of grape etiquette. The use of grape scissors, hiding the argument of seeds and skin - yes, the skin, too - by a half-closed hand, and piling the mess on the side of one's plate.

But now? Now he was tugging one from the bunch and tossing it in the air to catch with his mouth. How times have changed.

Anya: Fascinating. And excessive. She listened to his every word with genuine interest. She didn't envy how involved it seemed.

Four different cartons of berries and another of grapes. She'd had to abandon his hand to carry her share of their haul. Anya would stop by a stall for a bag of fresh spinach as well. Something for a nice salad, another day. Her new basket would be brimming.

"Anything else?"

Rune: Her basket was exactly what he was thinking about. He smiled at her bundle and shook his head.

"Let me carry some." Couldn't have her carrying everything, man or woman, he didn't like his hands being empty.

"Heading back?"

Anya: He could grab whatever he liked. No complaints from Anya. She turned to offer the sellers a parting smile as they reached the bikes.

"Yes, we should probably get everything home. Don't want to risk breaking the eggs on a joy ride."

She hummed as she considered how best to load.

Rune: One of the bags was tied around his wrist. This was how the assortment of berries was getting home. She could make do with the eggs and grapes in the basket.

"No more holding hands," he said sternly, putting on his best sober face.

Anya: Anya pouted pitifully, managing to hold it for a moment before chuckling. "For now. When we're back, all bets are off.

She loaded the basket and hopped on. No more rushing, either. She'd take off for home at a much more measured pace.

Rune: Back to that familiar house with all of its awaiting animals. The familiar comforting scents, knowing each room and the warmth it carried. Knowing she was safe with wards untouched. Wards he needed to expand upon, but, not yet. The bag of berries was placed on the counter, he backtracked to the foyer for his coat. He returned with it on his shoulders; this wasn't him leaving. She should know by now, the ride home had given him a chill.

From his inner pocket came a square black box. Her gold necklace lay within, with one tiny addition. A dainty gold and emerald star charm.

"You wanted a way to know I'm alright. I have some magic for you."

Anya: The house was small and she'd given him the tour last time. Rune had free reign to go where he pleased. Anya would busy herself with putting things away and greeting her animals.

He was back with a box and she took it with reverent hands. She lifted that dainty charm with a single finger, her smile impossibly soft.

"It's so pretty. How... how does it work?"

Rune: Quietly, Rune reached out to position her fingers, pinching the tiny jewel between thumb and middle finger.

"Hold like this and think of me. You have to mean it."

He raised his left hand. To the new silver, emerald, and gold accented ring on his middle finger. The scorpions sleeping on either side slowly came to life. Pinched at the center stone.

Rune squeezed his thumb over the top of the ring. There, she would see a glow from her jewel, and feel a pulse against the pads of her fingers. His pulse.

Anya: Anya didn't know what she'd been expecting. Perhaps a similar subtlety to the first spell he'd ever shown her. This... was something altogether different. That stone began to pulse between her fingers and it threw her own heart off rhythm. She blinked, and could guess how bright her eyes had become. The subtle burn behind them had her blinking again, releasing the jewel with a breath that quivered slightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, because she could say nothing else. Even with their love confessed, she could not look at him. She turned away to pluck the chain from the box, holding it out on two fingers in offering.

"Help me put it on?" she asked, voice still low. She removed the lovebird perched on her shoulder and set her on the counter, before gathering the thick curtain of her hair to give him access.

Rune: Never had he expected to see a shine in her eyes. So often from laughter, of course, but nothing like this. Though he didn't understand, he was content to know she was happy.

At least, he assumed happy. He took a breath, opening his mind to her. Without anyone to invade their privacy, he could have this. Enjoy feeling what she felt; he was old; the little subtleties made him feel closer to her.

His arm came around her neck, unclasping the necklace to reclasp behind her. A task which took seconds, yet he lingered. Admired her skin, her hair, her hand. Warm lips pressed to the nape of her neck.

Anya: Happy, yes. Touched. Relieved. And a love so potent she had to steady herself from the weight of it. The kiss to her nape made her shiver. Just a little.

With a deep inhale, she turned, letting her hair tumble back into place. Now her hand was free to settle against the side of his neck the other coming up to grip her pendant. Back where it belonged.

She kissed him deeply, then. It was far less clumsy than anything she might have said.

Rune: He couldn't remark on what he hadn't felt. Clumsy was hers to keep. Just as careful was his.

For years their lust, their love had been mutual. He couldn't fathom what it was about him that appealed to her. He would take his gifts with a grateful bow. What he couldn't say about himself didn't matter, when he could write poetry about her.

She held his neck, and he held her waist. His other hand cupped her jaw, thumb slowly petting her cheek. She could kiss him as deeply as she pleased. His mouth was supple, yielding, yet eager.

Anya: Perhaps in time she would stop reeling over his reciprocation. For now, it was still overwhelming. She hummed softly against his lips, loosing her vice grip on the pendant to rest a hand on the opposite side of his neck as well.

She could lose hours this way, she realized. If he let her.

Socked feet backed blindly toward the hall, gentle hands tugging him along toward the sofa. The chair. The bed. Wherever. She was unwilling to pull away from his lips long enough to say so.

Rune: A hand came out to brace against the wall before impact. They were in the hallway now, but he didn't know where she was going. She was in charge as they backed into the living room, surrounded of course by curious and confused and loyal animals. He expected one to peck or bite, assuming him an assailant on their master, and was prepared to take a wound in stride.

A thought that caused the smallest laugh.

"We have an audience."

Anya: He was perfectly safe. The only animal likely to assault him had been left in the kitchen. Nothing to do with protectiveness, and everything to do with ruling her domain with an iron fist. Or... beak, rather.

Anya was accustomed to the constant company. But Rune's laughter, his words, had her pulling away for his sake. She nearly stepped on a cat as she did. Momo? No, Brutus. She slid him carefully aside with her foot.

"I should... um, feed them. It's early, but if we're going to be cooking it's probably for the best."

Rune: Though she had pulled away, his hands lingered. And in between each pause of her speech was a tiny kiss. An apology for breaking whatever spell had taken them.

"Food. Right," he smiled.

As tempting as speeding ahead was, he didn't want to. Kisses were one thing; the scenery had been perfect. Anything else should have as much care.

"I'll boil the eggs. What do you want with your toast?"

Anya: It was wise, she assured herself, nodding at his words. There was plenty to be done, anyway.

"Avocado," she answered, easily. "And chili oil. It's homemade." Not by her, obviously.

Rune could hold her for as long as he pleased, but she'd set to work as soon as she was released, combing fingers through her hair until it was detangled enough to braid.

Rune: Another temptation, but he couldn't hold her forever. There would be plenty of time, soon enough. Overthinking would be the death of them.

But, his hand lingered still at her hip. His other finger raised. "I... am the master of boiled eggs." He paused. "Stay away from the stove. I've got it."

One final kiss, and he was back to the kitchen.

Anya: She snorted a soft laugh. "I trust your skill."

And he wouldn't have to do any convincing to keep her away from the stove. Quite the opposite, actually. Her fingers brushed his cheek as he left, and she watched him until he disappeared.

To business, then. When her hair was neatly braided, she'd grab her wireless ear buds. Easier to work and talk when her hands were free. She'd pass Rune in the kitchen a short while later, on her way to the back door and the yard beyond, Ewa at her heels. She was already chatting warmly with June as she did.

"...really great! How's Cath? Did you tell her that I got her..."

Rune: Names he would have to learn. Some names he'd already heard in passing. Folks he knew only as Mama and Papa, father, mother. He knew her neighbors in the Bronx more than the person on the phone. In a way, it was safer.

And despite these thoughts, she was going to Hillkate tomorrow. He must have been insane.

Four eggs were set to boil. He looked around the fridge and pantry for vinegar. He didn't know the science, only what he'd seen the nuns do back in Brooklyn.

A glance out the window, before busying himself tidying up whatever needed cleaning.

Anya: She was back ten minutes later, brushing bits of straw from her clothes just outside the door. She stepped inside and quickly toed out of her boots.

"The Rogers will look after the place, while we're gone." Such good people. They'd never need to pay for her expertise, where their horses were concerned.

Rune: The question he knew she would call ridiculous tingled his tongue. Was this really what she wanted? He would be in and out of her life, yes, but Hillkate was one more step, one more piece. One she might not appreciate. Who he became when on duty wasn't the man she loved.

Rune turned to face her, creating a barrier between her and the gas stove.

"What time tomorrow?"

Anya: She shrugged. "That's up to you. It's your place. Cathy's helped out enough to know the schedule. I'll probably take care of the morning, but after that..."

True, that she would have waved away his question. She wouldn't have asked if she didn't want to see.  Stove or no, she needed to get to the refrigerator to finish her feeding. She gave it a wide berth as she crossed, refusing to look or even get near enough to feel its heat.

Rune: "Mm." The stove was turned off when she neared. The pot was transferred to the sink, and the eggs to a bowl filled with ice water.

His mouth opened. Closed. No, no. It could wait. He knew better than most people the art of timing. Had clapped his hands and snapped his fingers enough times, had glimpsed various outcomes with a simple wink to know what he wanted to say wouldn't penetrate. She was beautifully stubborn. They were two of a kind. And he knew, deep down, what he wanted to say was just empty caution, and she would call him silly, or ridiculous.

"Do you trust me?"

Anya: Honey would lose her mind over the berries they'd purchased. She pulled out the cartons and meat for her carnivores. She was grabbing bowls and lick mats from the cabinet when he spoke.

"Yes. Did you think that changed?"

Rune: Rather than answer, he continued, "I want to change this to electric." He spun his finger. "Means switching everything on gas."

Anya: "Oh. Um." She blinked. "That sounds expensive."

Rune: "Is this your forever home?"

Anya: "I think so. It's where I built my life."

Rune: "Then it's an investment." He turned back to her, leaned against the kitchen sink. "A gas stove is more precise. Nothing is going to boil over. Electric takes getting used to," certainly took him a while, "but... no flame."

Anya: She nodded. The logic was sound enough. "I trust you," she told him, again. She certainly trusted him not to burn the place down. And it was sweet of him to think of her, to want to make her feel safe.

"Just let me know how much."

Rune: "Twelve hundred kisses," he smirked.

Anya: "In US dollars," she said, trying to look stern but unable to fight her smile. "But I'll kiss you, anyway. It's going to take some time to get up to twelve hundred."

Rune: "I'm counting on it." With the stove off, he trusted holding his hand out wouldn't bring her consternation.

Anya: She set the stainless steel bowl she was holding aside and took his hand readily. "How long do you think it'll take?"

Realizing, she laughed at her own question. "Switching to electric, not the kissing."

Rune: His laugh was silent. "I'll look. This is where that bag of gold comes in handy." With a gentle pull, his arms were back around her, feeling right at home. "Stove, furnace, dryer, it'll all need switching."

What a mundane, human conversation. How sweet, and enjoyable.

Anya: She shook her head at him, not even bothering to fight her smile. "See? You're waaaaay more stubborn than I am."

He was spending that bag of gold on her one way or another. Her arms draped lazily over his shoulders. "Fine, fine. You win. This time. Switch whatever you need to."

Rune: "Yeah?" It was all for one thing, and one thing only. He tilted his head to the stove. "Won't be as frightening?" he whispered.

Anya: Her fingers lightly stroked the hair at his nape. He loved her. What else could inspire such concern? Such care?

She shook her head, just the slightest movement. "No. It should be much better."

Still hot, but no flame.

Rune: His hand had been in his hair before, but now everything felt just a little warmer. But, this was still Rune. Still wanting to polish every stone in her path.

"I'll get started on that. We'll take the coins with us tomorrow."

Anya: "Cooking lessons, installing a swing, and overhauling my utilities? That sounds like a lot to take on." Even for an impossible man.

"You know I'm happy to just... see you, right?"

Rune: His smile returned, realizing, "When have you ever just seen me?"

Anya: "Ok, going to a karaoke bar or an amusement park is not the same as buying three new appliances."

Rune: "Everything I've ever done with you... is as selfish as it gets."

Anya: "There's nothing selfish about spending time with someone. You're too generous, actually. I can't give you half of that." It still bothered her, but he'd heard this all before.

Rune: You don't realize the extent of what you give me. It was a thought, a feeling, and nothing more. One she might feel if she tried no differently than the little charm around her neck.

"You think you owe me for anything?"

Anya: Her head tipped one way, then the other. "No. Not really. But that's beside the point. You're not selfish for this. Any of it."

Rune: "Why do you think it's not selfish?" He softly squeezed her waist, content to just hold her. Just one day of absolute freedom, and this was his new favorite hobby.

Anya: Her fingers still toyed in his hair, a thoughtless indulgence. "Because two people who love each other spending time together isn't selfish. It just isn't. It's... the most normal thing in the world."

Rune: "Does this feel normal?" Not a tease, and not rhetorical. He wanted to know how she felt as he slowly leaned into her hands.

Anya: "This?" His arms around her? Hers around him? "Yes. The rest is a little uncommon but so are we."

Rune: "I think we're pretty fucking uncommon," he chuckled, swaying her from side to side.

Anya: She feigned a scoff. "You see ghosts; I talk to animals. Doesn't everybody? Totally normal."

Rune: He would much rather their idiosyncrasies than the ridiculous arguments he'd seen in his long life. Jealousy was always, always bitter. He couldn't say he'd never tasted it; that was usually the time to run.

"As normal as twenty pets!"

Anya: "Absolutely. We're completely average." She smiled. And that army of animals needed to be fed. She'd been distracted for too long, already. She tightened her hold briefly before lowering her arms.

"I should get back to it."

Rune: "Mm. I need to make a phone call." Which he would make while peeling eggs, phone squished between his head and shoulder after a few quick taps.

Anya: Only a nod in response as she picked up the bowl she'd set aside. As ever, prepping food for her animals was familiar work. She'd piece together a feast for her carnivores and wash her hands before making an equally elaborate berry salad for Honey.

Rune: Rune didn't care that she was still in the room. There was nothing to hide from this conversation. He had made a decision seconds before announcing the call, that he couldn't hide everything from her. Years ago he had invited her to Hillkate. They said I love yours. She was finally going. She was chipping and chipping at his walls, his expectations. She could have one more, and one more.

The man on the other end of the line was greeted with a sigh. Something loud on the other end, like coughing, could be heard clear across the room.

"I can hear you out of my left fucking ear, Thomas. Get Jesse on the line."

Thomas might as well have been swallowing the microphone.

"You ain't called for six fuckin' months?" he wheezed, stammering over his words. "You said you'd be by to look at the items I got and you fuckin' ghosted me!"

Rune pulled the phone away from his ear, pressed to his shoulder as he stared off into space. Six months? Fucking Umbra.

"What month is it?" he whispered to Anya.

Anya: She glanced up at the sound of that nasty cough, pulling Papryczka from her leg for the third time in as many minutes. Whoever it was sounded awful.

It felt rude to listen in, but Rune hadn't left the room. It wasn't exactly a quiet conversation. She continued the work of laying down feeders until he spoke to her.

"April?" It was a question, but not about the date. Rather, about how he didn't know what month it was.

Rune: More staring off into space. The man, Thomas, didn't bother calling out to him. Instead, shouting across whatever room for a woman with a voice like a pack of cigarettes.

"No," Rune said at last, "it was January, Thomas! I was in Brooklyn. I was in Brooklyn because I was upstate days before that!"

"No, November I -" static, rustling. The living rasp took the phone away.

"Four months is still four months," she said. "Where did you get stuck this time?"

If Rune hesitated, it was only for a breath. Enough time to roll an egg over the counter to crack it.

"Shadowlands. Aoi Ueno got lost."

"Oh, honey. What do you want? Supplies?"

"Thinking about selling some of my coins." A glance was given to Anya. Yes?

Anya: The last mat was down and the fiery cat along with it. She could leave, but it seemed that Rune was content with her presence. So, she leaned against the counter, plucking a blueberry from Honey's bowl and pushing it between her lips.

Shadowlands. Another part of the Umbra he'd told her about, years ago. And that's where he'd gone after she'd left him at the edge of the city.

She shrugged at his look, then nodded. Yes, of course. They were still his coins, as far as she was concerned. If he wanted to sell them to overhaul her system, he was welcome. She'd already given the go-ahead.

Rune: He still had to be sure. Where she saw them as his, he regarded the opposite. Saying they were his was compartmentalization. She was no one's business unless she wanted to be.

"Oh, sure, honey. Bring em by. Same cut as usual."

"That's fine. Won't be much. Just to tide me over."

"Oh, lose another bet? What did you bet this time? Lost some years didn't you?"

"I'm as fresh as the spring rain, Jesse. I'll see you tomorrow."

The two hung up. His brick phone tossed on the counter.

Anya: "I guess we're adding selling coins to tomorrow's agenda," she said, smiling over another berry. The last. Honey needed to eat her fill.

"What did she mean by 'lost some years'?"

He'd lost months, apparently-- not knowing it was April. Perhaps he could lose years at a time. That sounded like a nightmare.

Rune: "Oh," he echoed, mimicking Jesse's rasp.

But his smile dropped at her question. No turning back. What part of him was the worst part of him? She would tell him, eventually.

His hand hovered by his face, giving a toothy presentation. "How I've lasted this long."

Anya: Hm. That vanishing smile didn't bode well. But she'd asked and wanted an answer. If he didn't plan on being evasive, she'd listen. She gestured with the bowl. Go on.

Rune: More, then. "Betting years of my life with people like me. That's what she meant."

Anya: "Years of your life?" She inhaled deeply and released the breath with an audible whoosh. It was a question answered that she'd had for years. Anya had imagined a spell. Perhaps a potion of some sort. "Risky gamble."

Then, again... his inherent luck surely played a factor. Still.

"You must win a lot."

Rune: "Bets start with months. Ten years maximum, most places." He was staring at the floor, now.

"Lost a few. I know what I look like fifty." He gestured at a whisp of hair. "Get some gray here."

Anya: That had her cracking a smile. "Cute. I like the salt and pepper look."

But he wasn't meeting her gaze, wasn't matching her smile with one of his own.

"What is it?"

Rune: She was taking it well. He had assumed she would have been offended on some moral ground. His shoulders sagged an inch.

"Just..." He looked up, and gave her what she wanted. "Just you being you, is the sweetest thing."

Anya: The look she gave him was affectionately bemused. What on Earth had he been expecting? Still, his smile was back and that was good enough for her.

"Ridiculous. I'm pretty terrible at being anybody else, so I guess you lucked out."

She reached out to give his wrist a squeeze. "I need to feed Honey."

Rune: "Luckiest man in the world." And he knew it. Down to his bones and his soul he knew it.

"I'll be here. Anyone want an egg?"

Anya: "Go for it," she said, already walking towards the living room and her bedroom beyond. "Caesar loves them. Careful with Papryczka. I don't want her to take your fingers with it."

Business as usual. She'd return just a few minutes later with a drowsy Honey clinging to her neck. "Remember Rune, kochanie? Want to say hello?"

Rune: Papryczka had grown so much. He wondered where Momo was. Probably sleeping. He tried to get Caesar to sit, tossing a whole egg his way. Wasn't about to try his luck with another trick with the beast.

But it was Honey that reignited the light in his eyes.

"You remember me," he cooed. "We gotta catch up!"

Anya: She did, of course. As Anya had promised she would after the gummies. The mutant made no move to stop the kinkajou from reaching over to climb the mage. She'd be aiming for the top of his head, just as before.

Anya set the still-full bowl on the counter. "Got all your fingers?"

Rune: "No one's made a try for them yet." Not in this house. His eyes closed when a paw used his nose for leverage. He felt blindly at the bowl for a fruit offering.

Anya: "Mm. So you passed inspection," she teased, plucking a blackberry from the bowl and handing it to him. "Congratulations."

While he reacquainted himself with her kinkajou, she'd grab the bag of birdseed from the pantry. "Need rescuing?" she asked, once she'd emerged.

Rune: "No, no. Just like old times." He would eventually move her, but for now, he was enjoying himself. The blackberry was offered and taken with guesto. Eventually, some of that would stain his shirt, but he was prepared for the mess this time.

Anya: Anya giggled at the sight, her smile sunny as spring. She did love how he interacted with her animal. If he hadn't won her over years ago, that certainly would have tipped the odds irrevocably.

"Ok, then. Have fun, you two."

She'd just take her time with the last of the feeding, returning to the kitchen a while later to start cleanup. Always the routine.

Rune: Balancing Honey on his head, he buttoned his shirt, narrowing the mess to just one article of clothing, before finally lowering the creature to his chest to properly feed.

He needed four hands. There was still toast to make, but he didn't trust leaving Honey to hang of her own accord.

"How long will she live?" he asked.

Anya: Anya could manage toast well enough on her own. He could cuddle Honey for as long as he pleased. For now, she was elbow-deep in suds and smiling crookedly at him.

"As many as thirty years, if she's well taken care of." Which she would be, obviously. "You're going to spoil her, if you keep it up. Just make sure she eats some of that spinach. Don't fall for the face."

Rune: Crooked, straight, or curved, every shape of smile from Anya was beautiful, and distracting.

"Are you fostering anyone," he asked, offering Honey some spinach, "or do you intend to keep everyone?" His reason for asking might be left to himself, but, he had one place in mind that could use a morale boost.

Anya: Honey would just ignore that and reach for another berry herself.

"Not at the moment. I do foster, but I'm terrible at it. Not the taking care part, the finding a new home part. Caesar and Brutus were both supposed to be fostered. Why do you ask?"

Rune: Rune took some steps back from the bowl, wanting to limit her options to the spinach, as her mama wanted.

"Just curious."

Anya: Well, if there was no other option. Fine.

Anya nodded, turning back to the sink. Even years later, she had a habit of watching him. "Sometimes. If I'm ever looking after a ferret or sable or something, I'll call you."

Rune: Ah. He just smiled and shook his head. He couldn't keep everything vague around her. Even before today. Almost every day in her presence he said more than he intended. What did this one little thing matter?

"It's not for me."

Anya: "No? Then who?" It wasn't so serious. Just vague curiosity. Not the sort of question to make press, or keep her up at night.

Rune: "A little Orthodox private school near Hillkate."

Anya: "I love you." She had the freedom to say it, now. It helped ease some of the pressure in her chest that swelled when he was being particularly impossible. "We'll make a quick stop tomorrow morning. Or whenever we leave."

Still very much up to him.

Rune: "What? What for?" What did he do? He was utterly oblivious for once.

Anya: "Because you're you," she chuckled, shaking her head. The last mat was rinsed and left to dry. She dried her hands on a towel before turning to face him. "What do you want on your toast?"

Rune: A blackberry and strawberry were offered as choices, curious which Honey would grab first.

He was still hung up on her random declaration when she popped a question.

"Butter and egg."

A little silence, another handful of fruit.

"Ik hou van jou."

Anya: The blackberry. But she'd down it in seconds and reach for the strawberry soon after.

Anya nodded, grabbing the loaf from the bread box and a serrated knife from the drawer. If she was going to venture into the kitchen, baking would be far more appealing, she thought. Endless amounts of bread and pastries.

His own declaration had her smiling down at the counter. She hadn't needed him to echo the sentiment, but she liked the way it made her heart stumble, anyway.

"Two pieces?"

Rune: "Two." Like old times. That much he remembered. The hours before and after possession were fuzzy, months later. They usually were. He needed to see someone about that.

"You would go to a school just because I mentioned it?"

Anya: Another nod, and she carved off four thick slices to slide into the toaster oven. Then, to the fridge to grab the grapes to be rinsed and dried.

"If there are kids who could use an animal to love, why wouldn't I? The health benefits are documented. And if you care enough to bring it up... then it matters to me."

Rune: You catch the little things, he thought. The things he didn't consider in himself, she saw. Back and forth, was this deserved or not?

"Mm." That went without saying. His own childhood could have used a little more happiness.

"I know the principal. If... you're serious about swinging by."

Anya: "Of course I'm serious." She offered him a bowl of cleaned grapes, smiling when Honey made a grab for them.

"Why wouldn't I be serious? We can stop by the shelter. They call me in when there's an injury or illness they can't handle themselves. I'm sure they've got someone suitable for a school. Maybe not a puppy or a kitten, if it means more work for the adults. But a house-trained older dog? A cat with a good temperament? Sure! You should probably call ahead and clear it with them, though."

Rune: "I was thinking more like a bird or a hamster. Isn't that what they give little children to teach them responsibility?"

He shook his head. "I'll ask what he thinks when we're there. Just an innocent hello."

Anya: She'd assumed a boarding school, but she shrugged. "Not a bird. I love them, but they require a lot of attention and they're loud. Not good for a classroom. A hamster could work, but they don't live for very long."

She snapped her fingers. "Little tortoise. Russian, maybe. They're pretty low maintenance, but they'll need fresh water and food. Good to teach responsibility. Adults can clean the tank. They'll live fifty years or more if they're well taken care of. The kids could come back to visit when they have their own kids. Grandkids, even."

But she was getting waaaaaay ahead of herself. Just a hello. She shook her head and turned to watch the bread toast, mindful of the color. "Ignore me. I'd love to say hi."

Rune: Fruit was passed to the kinkajou as he watched her, not realizing he was smiling again. Damn habit it was. Honey remained oblivious, as usual. Her world was fruit and making a mess of his shirt. This was fine, he told himself again.

"I could never ignore you. Didn't expect all the enthusiasm."

Anya: She switched off the oven with a shrug. "It's... important. Good for the kids. Good for the animal."

Where had she put that mitt? The dish towel would do well enough. She gritted her teeth as she reached into the too-hot toaster oven to pull the tray free. Done and done. She shut it quickly and took a breath, setting the toast aside to cool a bit as she made for the fridge and the butter within.

"Just about done here, if you want to get cleaned up. I can take Honey."

Rune: Rune stilled, watching her until the moment was over. He didn't know what he would have done had she needed... something. But, he couldn't take his eyes off her, just in case.

"Fine. My hair's more interesting to her right now, anyway." Was it a wonder she even recognized him, he realized. He'd had three different styles in her presence; all she really had to go on was his scent.

Anya: Chuckling, she placed the butter on the counter. Everything else was done; she'd let him butter his own toast.

"Chodź tu, słoneczka," she murmured, pulling a very curious kinkajou from the mage's head. "You have to stop making such a mess. Rune's going to run out of shirts."

That wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, actually. She grinned at the thought and wet a rag to clean the juice from Honey's fur.

Rune: Rune blinked, staring off at nothing with a curious brow, before looking at her. He found a smile. That certainly hadn't been him.

What was he supposed to be doing? Right. Cleaning up, then - whatever came next. He shrugged the thin outer layer from his shoulders, placed by the sink to be washed by hand. His dark indigo vest was removed as well, along with the first two buttons of his shirt.

Did this please her?

Rune: Rune blinked, staring off at nothing with a curious brow, before looking at her. He found a smile. That certainly hadn't been him.

What was he supposed to be doing? Right. Cleaning up, then - whatever came next. He shrugged the thin outer layer from his shoulders, placed by the sink to be washed by hand. His dark indigo vest was removed as well, along with the first two buttons of his shirt.

Did this please her?

Anya: Honey endured her wipe-down admirably. It was better than a bath. Anya debated putting her down so they could eat, but let the kinkajou cling to her back, instead.

She turned to see that Rune had made himself more comfortable. Pleased? Yes, she was. She bit her lip to fight another smile, pulling plates down from the cabinet to keep herself from staring. Was that allowed, now? She hadn't decided.

Toast on plates. Plates on her tiny kitchen table. Two eggs for each of them. She grabbed half an avocado wrapped in beeswax paper from the fridge and a butter knife. There was nothing left to keep her busy. She sat.

Rune: Rune washed his hands and made an attempt at one of the stains on his clothes to no avail. He couldn't remember the name of the product his neighbor used, or if it still existed.

He wondered if asking if Anya knew was offensive. He decided it wasn't after just a second of consideration. She lived alone, after all. Knowing how to take care of herself was a characteristic of independence.

"I'm shit at this," he decided, abandoning his clothes to join her.

Anya: She gave a soft laugh and held out the knife in offering. He could use it, first. She'd just grab a handful of grapes and plop them onto her plate.

"I'll take care of it. You don't want to know the wide array of stains I have to get out of my clothes. All the time. Juice is easy."

Rune: "All I know is blood," he muttered. Droplets were easy to remove, but when blood or some ectoplasmic muck covered more than 30% of his clothes, they were tossed. Too many precious vintage were lost this way before he stuck to a modern black suit when on duty.

Anya: "I can do blood, too." But that maybe wasn't the best subject for dinner conversation. Now that he was across from her, it wasn't as easy to distract herself from that hint of skin. She pressed a grape between her lips and studied her very interesting dinner plate.

"I'll take care of it," she repeated, glancing up because she couldn't not. "After dinner."

Rune: She would glance up to find him looking with abandon. She had her reasons for knowing blood. Animals, he assumed, but still, he didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned. Both felt correct.

"Thank you."

Anya: "Ohne Ursache." She waved a hand, grabbing another grape and passing it back to a squeaky Honey. He was doing plenty for her, during his stay. This wasn't reciprocation, exactly. Just doing for someone she loved.

She reached for her jar of chili oil.

"What do you want to do after dinner?"

Rune: "I hadn't thought that far ahead." Finally, he looked away, splitting his soft-boiled egg open, satisfied by the golden treasure oozing out over his toast. Some butter, salt and pepper later, she should have known what was coming. His mouth was out of commission for a minute.

Anya: Anya certainly had. At least hypothetically. She grabbed for the knife when he'd finished with it, instead of tugging at her braid. None of that. She carved neat slices into her avocado and spread them evenly across each piece of toast. Everything but her grapes were drizzled in a generous amount of chili oil. Seeing to his shirt would take a little time. And...

"I'll call my parents," she said, after she'd swallowed her first mouthful. It was a little late for them, but she knew they were still up. "Get the list of what I'll need for the dumplings. Feel free to make yourself at home."

Rune: "We've done this before," he finally said. "And every time, feels as though we've done it a thousand times."

Rune stared at the table a moment, scoffed.

"Back in 1924, I read about a family that claimed they were haunted by a spirit. The newspaper left out that it was their daughter. Diana. I still remember what she looked like. She wouldn't move on until she knew her baby sister survived. She couldn't find her and wouldn't leave. Hunters have a name for it, when wraiths are stuck because of something, or someone. I remember her hair. Like yours. Large eyes, like yours. Sharp chin. Sweet voice. I found her teddy bear. That cheered her up."

His hands dropped to his lap.

"When I first met you, I thought you were her. Little Diana, reincarnated, all grown up. All her teddies have heartbeats now."

Anya: She looked up from her toast, prepared to ask him what it was, exactly, that they'd done before. But her mouth was still full and Rune was pressing on. She listened to his recounting in silence, those wide eyes he spoke of blinking at him. He'd known her for years. What, in this moment, had sparked such a memory? It was... sad. The grieving family. And that poor little girl.

"I can't really tell you that you're right or wrong, about that." She'd swallowed; her voice was gentle. "This is the only life I remember. Good and bad, I've always just been Anya."

Her shoulders rose and fell a little helplessly. "I assume if you thought that I was her, that she eventually moved on. Do... do you know how she died?"

Rune: "I made certain she moved on." Of that, he didn't have to wonder. Just the rest of it.

The spark, as she thought it, was the freedom their love had offered to say what he was thinking. What he would have otherwise kept to himself. As he'd said, this wasn't the first time he'd thought about Diana in her presence.

"Pneumonia. She moved on once I told her that her sister survived."

Anya: "I'm glad that she did," Anya murmured. She went on, to clarify. "For both girls. That Diana was able to move on, and that her sister survived. I hope her family had an easier time, when she was at peace."

She gave a little nod, only to herself, and took a thoughtful bite of her toast. It was a long moment before she spoke again. "I've never really thought of reincarnation. Of coming back, or being here before. I wonder if my mother ever will." Or if she'd ever left in the first place. Did she still haunt those woods where they once lived so happily? Anya certainly hoped not.

Rune: Rune pushed aside his plate. Elbows on the table, she was once again his entire world.

"Do you want me to find out?" he asked, softly.

Anya: "To find out what? About my mother? If she... came back?"

Rune: "Anything you want."

Anya: "I don't know," she confessed. And it was a confession. Nothing she'd say to anyone else in the world. "I want to think that she's at peace, but if she isn't... well, it would be pretty selfish of me not to do something about it." Or have him do so, as would be the case.

Rune: "Why in - Why would that be selfish? I'm still learning how you use this word. Maybe it's my English." His sigh had a trace of humor. "You love her. If you want to know, what do I say? About everything?"

Anya: There was nothing to smile about on the subject of her dead mother. But there she was with a hint of one, anyway. It wasn't her mother. It was him. Of course she knew what he would say. "This isn't about 'Anya getting what she wants.' What would be selfish is not wanting to know, because I don't want to find out she's been suffering for over two decades."

Rune: Fine, fair. He could see what she meant, now. Still, he decided to press on, but with a new strategy.

"Do you have a photograph? A physical one, not something on your phone."

Anya: She shook her head. "Nothing survived but me." She wished she did. Maybe her memories wouldn't be so fuzzy.

Rune: "No one has one? Something we can find online and print, maybe? It would help. I know how we may find out."

Anya: Her shoulders rose and fell again. "I don't have any other relatives that I know of. No aunts, or uncles, or cousins that might have something. I know for a fact that my grandparents are all dead. And the internet wasn't exactly what it is today, back then. I can try to do a little digging. Ask my parents, maybe."

Rune: He held his hands out, to say, with your permission, "I'll do some digging of my own. For now, describe her to me. Her face, her voice. Her full name."

Anya: She released a long breath. Why was she suddenly nervous? This was Rune. And her mother. She shut her eyes to summon the memory of her.

"Her name was Magda Eisenhardt. She... looked like me. Or, I look like her. Her skin was a little deeper than mine. Just a little. Smooth like glass. Her hair was darker. Almost black, but curly, like mine. Big brown eyes. Tall, I think. But maybe that was just my perspective. I was little, at the time. She was... beautiful. Gentle and soft-spoken, even when she was scolding me. Or my father. Um. What else?"

Rune: The only explanation for her apprehension was the subject itself. Tender, as vital memories could be.

"That's fine. Perfect. Did she have any scars that you remember? Something she was passionate about?"

Anya: She gave the tiniest shake of her head. The skin she remembered was flawless. Nothing like her ruined back.

Anya was so very wrong about those scars, but her memories were faded and rose-tinted. "I don't know. She loved music? She'd put on records and dance with my father. She baked a lot. Her food was amazing."

Rune: Rune breathed deep from his nostrils, looked around the room and back. He knew about rose-tinted lenses, but also the antithesis of jade. He couldn't say whether she wore either one.

Rather than ask for a pen, Rune retrieved his coat, feeling in the inner pocket for his own.

"Magda Eisenhardt." He bit his lip. "Don't suppose you know her maiden name?"

Anya: Ah, yes. A question she could answer properly. That much, she'd been told. The family lost to them when her mother had chosen her father to wed. "Gurzsky."

Rune: "Some wraiths choose their birth name, some keep what they died with. And some change their names in the Shadowlands. They get to be who they really want to be."

He met her eyes. "If she's..." Well, no need to finish that sentence.

The question was, who did he want to summon? A kind and fumbling grandfather, a moody borderline poltergeist, or a riddler?

The last buttons of his shirt were unfastened. He took to his knees in the kitchen, tucked away near the sink. There he unshouldered the left side of his shirt, drawing a wide circle around his heart.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want. This won't take long."

Anya: She nodded. That made sense. Covering their bases. She hoped she'd given him enough information to know the truth. Or maybe she didn't. She still didn't know.

Practically shirtless on his knees, again. They'd been there before. At least he wasn't wet, this time. Anya was a little  too nervous to be properly distracted by his display, however.

"I'm staying." Despite her nerves, there wasn't a hint of doubt in her tone. But she would pull Honey from her back, cuddling the kinkajou against her chest.

Rune: "Whatever you see, trust me, I'm fine." More sigils swept from one side of his pec to the other. "His name is No. He doesn't speak a lick of English. Sometimes trades information for a ride in my skin. He's harmless, just loud. If you're really worried, put yourself in a salt circle."

Anya: "I'll be fine," she assured him. Maybe she was assuring herself as well. Either way, she was staying parked right where she was, Honey in her arms and eyes glued to Rune.

Rune: Rune closed his eyes as he waited. If this counted as being on duty, then for the next ten minutes he had to pretend Anya didn't exist. This was a hunt of his own accord. Watching her would only distract him.

Eyes slowly opened, revealing a wall of sclera. Further and further back they rolled, until new red-blue eyes appeared from beneath.

"Ima wa nanidesu ka?"

Eyes rolled from above. Brown, this time. Gently and evenly, Rune recounted every last detail Anya had offered. Silence. "Pōrando." Poland. More silence. Magda Eisenhardt, he said, followed by Gurzsky.

Blue eyes. "Boku wa asobitaidesu."

Brown eyes looked to Anya. This was for her. He trusted No with his life.

"One hour," he said in English.

Anya: Unsettling. That was the kindest word she use to describe watching his eyes roll out of sight, replaced with a pair she did not recognize. Less charitable options were dismissed. This was Rune. A side of himself he'd kept hidden from her, but very much someone she loved. It was less terrifying than the demon, for sure. Small mercies.

She recognized nothing beyond her mother's name in the exchange. A hand stroked Honey's dense fur. She didn't once look away.

Rune spoke to her and she nodded, releasing a held breath. "Ok. An hour. Do... you have to stay there the entire time?"

Rune: Rune swallowed, his laugh silent. "No the - I was talking to him." But to answer her question, he got to his feet, pulling his shirt back over to button.

"I don't know when he'll be back. Until then, this sigil remains open."

He took a breath. No always gave him a headache.

"An hour is how long he'll use my body, when this is over."

Anya: "Ah." She nodded. Apparently that much English he understood. Her eyes widened at his last statement. A willing possession. It seemed a pretty steep price to pay for information she wasn't even sure she wanted. Too much, on her behalf.

"Use your body for what?"

Rune: He had said as much in English for her. In hindsight, that was probably silly.

"Well, last time he ate everything in my fridge, which wasn't much, drank all of my genever, and sunbathed on my roof."

Anya: "Hm." She kissed the top of Honey's head. Seemed harmless enough. Still. "You don't have to, you know. It's fine. I'm sure she's fine. Long gone."

Rune: "We've already agreed, and I'm a man of my word."

Still, he leaned against the counter. "Whatever I find out, if you don't want me to tell you something, you'll know by omission."

Anya: "No." She shook her head, still watching him. "If you're going through with it, then I want to know everything you find out. And your ghost can eat whatever he wants."

Rune: "Thank you for trusting me."

Anya: "I've trusted you for this long; I'm not going to stop now." No thanks necessary.

Her smile was very small, but it was real. "Thank you. For finding out about her. It's probably better to know."

Rune: "I don't know. I have no idea how my father left this world. At least..." At least you love enough to care. But was that true to say? Yes, she loved her, but he couldn't pretend apathy for the man who raised him.

"It's the least I can do."

Anya: "It's a lot. It's so much. It's more than anybody else could give."

She wasn't particularly hungry anymore, but she forced herself to take a bite of her toast. She chewed carefully. Swallowed.

"Do you need to rest, for a little while?"

Rune: A nap was tempting, but, "Coffee." Still, he remembered how well his sleeping habits went over last time.

"What if we... lay on the couch together?"

Anya: Anya had made a promise the last time she'd seen him. Confessions of love aside, she wouldn't go back on her word. She'd say nothing about where or how he slept. And if he wanted coffee, he'd get coffee.

She nodded, standing from the table with what would likely be the final bite of her toast.

"I'd like that. I'll put on a pot, first."

[proheromidoriyashouto]

its not that they don't like vegetables but that the mutagens and training have skewed their perception of non-meat food sources.

digging further into this headcannon a bit, the mages structured the mutagens to make Witchers obligate carnivores on purpose. Providing for oneself is hard on the Path. Coin is better served replacing armor and weapons and potion ingredients--being spent on tools of the trade of monster slaying. So Witchers needed to be able to acquire food from sources that wouldn't rely on humans and non-humans' produce.

The simple solution, making them obligate carnivores--like cats and other predators--allows Witchers to hunt their own food from the wilds around them while consuming more of the body that if they didn't have stomachs suited for it.

They can and do need variety in their diet but its considerably less. And, being obligate carnivores means that they tend to desire meat in all things. They don't eat enough greens to support themselves on say, a vegetarian diet alone, but they also don't know that humans can and do survive just fine that way too. Meat is necessary for their survival as mutants.

So Lambert, who doesn't remember much about his human diet prior to becoming a Witcher because food was scarce anyway, sees Ciri having dietary struggles he catastrophizes. But they all kinda do until Jaskier and Yennefer figure out that Ciri's tick-borne allergy only affects red meat. Then they're an ecstatic pack of Wolves (and Griffin and Wolf-In-Law) who want nothing more to take care of their only puppy.

headcannon that Witchers are obligate carnivores and it means they can't just drink normal tea they have to brew that shit with bones in it or something or else it upsets their sensitive tummies.

like whenever Jaskier is brewing tea in camp and turns away for a second Geralt tosses in little bones he won't notice until its time to drink up and little pieces of white bone just plink into his cup. trying to get answers out of Geralt for something like this is a fool's errand so Jaskier just has to figure out why this is happening over time.

made all the more frustrating by Geralt getting miffed about Jaskier not eating the little bones and calling him wasteful and taking them for himself to eat. "the crunchy bits are the best part of tea."

but Geralt will not just call it soup. will not just ask for bone broth with herbs in it. it's "tea" and special "Witcher tea" when Jaskier won't let it go. and people think Jaskier is the dumb and pretty one of their pair.

but the other Witchers all do it to some degree, and if Jaskier wants a hot drink experience that doesn't taste wildy off and like shit he has to start just making broth or soups. crushed rosemary and garlic and a hefty helping of salt along with a big marrowy bone at least.

if he wants his own tea he has to brew it after Geralt is asleep or meditating or off on a hunt becaus he ALWAYS sneaks little bones or chunks of meat into it even when its only for Jaskier. he complains enough about it that Geralt buys a little tea pot Just For Jaskier that he promises not to mess with (but still does because surely the bard will die without animal fat and protein in every cup. Jaskier has to burst into tears for Geralt to stop in truth).

Geralt is delighted that tea is good now--he had no idea humans knew how to make a good Witcher tea! ah the bard has been holding out on him the strange little herbivore. glad he finally saw sense.

now if Jaskier would believe Geralt when he says he can't taste sweet things and stop trying to feed him pastry and wasting their hard earned coin on things that aren't even real. like sugar.

Ciri gets bit by a tick when she's on the run from Nilfgaard the first time and becomes deathly allergic to meat and it is SO upsetting to the Witchers. why even live.

[vigilskeep]

Which origins companion do you think would win hunger games?

okay well here are my studies

sten: canonically his job to explore new dangerous locations and he got immediately wrecked by darkspawn before allowing himself to be captured bc of his guilt at killing kids. zero stars. get ur head in the game

zevran: great murder skills questionable will to live

oghren: i just do not see it. the guy needs something to drink and somebody to give him orders he’s not cut out for this

shale: sorry but shale has to get killed by mutant birds. i know shale would crush everybody else here into fine paste but it has to get killed by mutant birds it’s the only narrative possibility here

leliana: i just don’t see it... sorry this is probably because dao archer sucks but like. girl. i cant picture her making it

wynne: really just fucking wants to die for someone, and would have this in mind even before she like found somebody to do it for. this is literally how she died canonically. she’s got a vision. she’s committed. no chance of winning but upgrades somebody else’s chances by a lot. namely:

alistair: now this may be a controversial one but grey warden tank with one of the clearest heads here for common sense and strategy who confidently even boredly led expeditions into the korcari wilds PLUS spirit healer ally?? not to mention charm that would win all the sponsors, look at him go. honestly i think his only primary competitor would be:

morrigan: depending on the arena could be really good. wilderness survival skills 10/10. beats alistair for killing instinct by a mile but her unwillingness to consider alliances may equally be her downfall. has a natural mage advantage but ali’s templar abilities and mage ally neutralise this a bit. i’d expect one of these two to win

[spiderling-space]

Watched MoM 3 days after the release, boy that was a wild ride. I loved the horror tone of the movie. This means MCU can do horror, so I am optimistic for Blade movies. My main predictions were like 50/50 true. I had so many fangasm moments like in SMNWH.

You can be assured that there is no spoiler in this concluding chapter, just some little references so I can keep the originality. I added after-words for references, what I based Wanda on and some commentaries. Get ready for expositions for both Wanda’s and the twst story! For twst, I based it on the theory I have about the story. It’s over 14k words.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Afterword

What if MC is Wanda Maximoff aka Scarlet Witch? - Part 7

"So what now?" Pietro asked after Wanda laid down everything. 

"We don't have variants here. No Wanda or Pietro. There are no mutants or the Avengers. We can live here without causing an incursion." Wanda was desperate for Pietro to agree with her idea. She just needed one person to be on her side no matter what. She needed her twin. "They have mages, fairies, ghosts, mermaids, beastmen, monsters and gods here. They won't go after us with torch-and-pitchforks for being different and powerful - for being mutants."  

Pietro was doing stretches as he was listening to Wanda's pitch. He wanted to know what happened to her when she suddenly disappeared. He was angry at them for trying to send Wanda away. Now that he saw her again, he felt relieved. Her offer was tempting. To live in a world where people wouldn't hate you and want you gone for being slightly different. Sure, Wanda's proposal seemed the best option, but his gut feelings were telling him she wasn't telling everything. "So, what's the catch? Why not bring every mutant here? Father would finally accomplish his dream too." 

Hearing his name ticked Wanda off. "There is one more thing you should know before suggesting it again." Pietro arched his eyebrow, she sounded angry at him for his comment. "I will need to unlock all of your memories, but it will be painful. However, your fast regenerative abilities will ease the pain."  

"That doesn't sound nice. How painful will it be?" 

"Trust me, what you'll remember will be worth it." Although Pietro was reluctant, there was no one he trusted more than his twin. When he agreed, Wanda cast a spell that bound his legs and arms and something in his mouth, so he wouldn't bite his tongue. 

[[This part is cut due to word limits of tumblr, check out AO3 for full chapter]]

"Don't worry. I know how to wield it. I am the one in control." Wanda reassured. He chose to believe in his sister and didn't ask about it again. "Why aren't you showing me around instead of those guys?" 

"Before I check my theory, I need to make sure something. We may live in this world carefree, but I have to make sure there won't be any disturbances." Wanda answered before heading to the kitchen. "What do you want to eat?"  

After her friends came to get Grim and Pietro to roam around the NRC, Wanda left for her first destination: Ignihyde. She was wearing casual clothes now. 

She was standing in front of Idia's room. He ignored her because he was gaming in his room alone. She didn't have patience as she just wanted to get over it, so she twisted her wrist and the door opened. After entering she closed the door and made him disconnect from the game. He got angry so much that his hair turned red and yellow.  

"I know what it's like to lose your sibling. It feels like someone tears your hearts out and crushes in front of your eyes." What she said shut Idia up, his hair turning blue. He was lost in words. "Someone I care about once told me 'what is grief if not love persevering?'. At the time, those words meant the world to me." What Vis told her once upon a time also made an impact on Idia. His expression turned sad, and he was mentally denying how Ortho died. "But at the time, I didn't know a way to get rid of the grief altogether. Now I do. If there is a way, why shouldn't I do it, right?"  

"I don't understand where you are going with this but if you use Ortho against me, I'll-" Dealing with Idia was frustrating, and her words were rubbing salt into his wound 

"You've seen what I can do with your own eyes yesterday. I can restore Ortho's body and he can grow up like he was supposed to." Wanda made her offer. She knew he wouldn't refuse it. 

"Wh-what?" Idia choked on his words. It was too good to be true and he knew this would have a bigger cost but seeing his young brother grow up again would be the only thing he'd wish for. "Why are you doing this? What's the catch?" 

"I will restore Ortho's body and he'll age like any other normal kid. In return, I want your unconditional cooperation for the things I need. It's all technological stuff you can afford." Her asking for technological equipment for restoring his brother's body was nothing compared to what he'd get so he agreed. They shook hands but Wanda held his hand longer, squeezing it. "If you back on your words, I won't hesitate to take back what I gave." Idia gulped the idea of it. To him, she became even more ominous and threatening. He remembered that she was looking for the book that was written by the God of Chaos. She ought to be under S.T.Y.X.'s surveillance but he thought he'd put Ortho in danger if he commanded that. 

[[You can read the rest on AO3. Here is the link]]

[ashley-j-green]

ok sooooo here's a Geraskier Boyfriend Surprise fic idea I came up with the other day(warning: this is super long)

Feel free to toss your ideas to me to add dimensions into this!💕❤️

I will write it out once I've got the entire plot figured out :D

Boyfriend Surprise

It's a modern au, where harmless monsters and mutants and other species(elves dragons etc)live with human in peace, but not a equal peace. Mutants and other species are discriminated against.

And those dangerous monsters are jobs for witchers and mages. Witchers can take on personal commissions or help the local police deal with the monsters to earn money.

So at the very beginning of this story, Geralt is poor. Like, really poor. He doesn't have a place to stay at night, Roach(a motorcycle)broken down, and he has been having only one or two meals a day for a whole week, just to save up enough money to fix Roach.

So- one last commission and Geralt can have enough money to have Roach fixed and leave the town, and yet! A college girl Priscilla is involved in this hunt and Geralt have to abandon the monster's body part to save her. No prove, so there's no payment for Geralt.

Priscilla feels bad about Geralt couldn't get the money, so she offers the Law of Surprise.

THEN they head to the Priscilla's house, only to find a Jaskier standing in front of the door of her house, with flowers and a chocolate cake in hand, ready to confess his love to her and ask her to be his girlfriend :D

Well! when Geralt sees this he just thinks, oh thank gods, the Law of Surprise are just flowers and a chocolate cake. And he's STARVING so he just takes the chocolate cake and the flowers from Jaskier and starts to eat, gesturing Priscilla to explain everything to the boy.

Jaskier is like: ???EXCUSE ME

And he takes the flowers back and confesses his love to Priscilla: you already have me and my heart. Will you allow me to have you as well?

Well! Priscilla says yes BEFORE she accept the flowers SO the Law of Surprise is JASKIER rather than the flowers.

Geralt, with chocolate cake in his mouth: Ah fuck great. Your boyfriend just became mine.FUCK.

Jaskier:???Sorry, what

So Geralt just stands there and eats up the whole chocolate cake, really awkward inside but pretends to be cool. Priscilla explains everything to Jaskier. When she's done Geralt grabs Jaskier's one arm and asks where he lives.

Jaskier is like: What?do you?want?to do??

Geralt: We better stay together right now, because we can't outrun destiny.

Well, what he really thinks is: this is an opportunity to sleep ONE NIGHT under a roof.

Jaskier: I live next door

So they walk into the house next door. Jaskier is still angry. Geralt is really tired.

Geralt just tells him: We will just go on a date and then break up, and your boyfriend identity will be broke. And even though we will be connected and meet all the time after the break-up, you will just be a friend to me...You're lucky you're not proposing, or we'll have to get married and then divorced, while now mutants can't get married legally.

Jaskier is still so angry BUT he's so nice so he just thinks about how unfair it is that mutants can't get married.

Jaskier: Ok but I'm not gonna date you because of this nonsense. If you want to date to break the magic, come to see my play'srehearsal.

Geralt: What play are you gonna do

Jaskier: The Butcher of Blaviken

Geralt:...w.h.a.t.

So Jaskier is still a college student in this and he majors in Modern and Medieval Languages, choose the Modern and Medieval Monster Science out of interest.

Geralt comes with him to the university and is greeted with all sorts of afraid/hating/loathing eyes from the students.

And when one guy(let's just let him be Valdo, what do you say) pushes Geralt and insults him Jaskier just can't bear it anymore so-

He places himself between the two and the words come out without thinking: What are you doing to my boyfriend? Hm?

(There's more details we've already discussed in the TAD gc with@myidlehand @lovelorn-virtuoso @simeramise and other members :D it was a wild and funny journey ahahah)

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 13

‘Fuck’ Geralt growled fiercely as he lunged at the tree, the poor tree had little defence again the Witcher’s blade, the wood splintered and groaned as the raging white-haired man thrust a heavy blow. At the young age of 158, the thick tree toppled in half with a dull thud, gashes and gouges oozed sap. Geralt kick the offensive tree in anguish, usually training against a tree was something that Geralt would leave to playing children. Still, for the lack of a better opponent, the tree was the unwilling sacrifice.

A vicious snarled vibrated across his chest; sweat dripping from his body since sunup causing his to cast off the shirt as he had been thrashing out his fury and urges on several helpless trees in the yard. For the past fortnight, he had spent every night chasing his release; eyes screwed shut as he pumped his cock relentlessly, pursuing the craving that could not be satisfied in an attempt to escape the fever that gripped her for a few hours sleep. As soon he had fisted himself to one orgasm, the desire for another seized upon him. The Witcher had not felt like this since he had the first transition from human to mutant, every sensation intense and overwhelming, for the first year, he walked around with a constant hard-on, hornier than a cat in heat. This felt worse; it was like his insides burning out. The smell of her permeated every surface and seeped into every fabric, which was smothering, but he could not manage without it.

Panting hard, he tossed his sword on the floor as chest rumbled as he roared, punching a sturdy leather bag that creaked in protest. The other side of the mages garden Adva was duelling against Triss. For an inexperience spell caster, she was holding her own, with difficulty but still nevertheless it impressive. A surge of pride filled his chest as Adva caught Triss off guard with a water shot, it shocked her challenger, and lightning bolt crashed down onto the puddle of water created that sent Triss into convulsions. A simple spell but clever strategy, his little mate, was cunning, it made him feel the warmth of delight, of course, he could still protect her but knowing she could have his back gave him pleasure. Triss countered with a violent force push that sent Adva hurtling backwards against a tree, the blouse she wore gapped open at the mid-drift, and the brown trouser ripped at the seam revealing a fleshy section of the thigh. A water swirl twisted round her while the winded women got back to her feet; this did not deter Triss. Wave after wave of assault battered down against the curly brunette, unbalancing her stance, Adva blocked a fair few blows, but the attack was relentless. Adva’s feet began to stumble and struggle to grip the earth beneath her, her arms flayed franticly to conjuring the spell, blood laced the air, and hard pants escaped her body.

‘Guard up, Adva.’

In a moment, the onslaught stops, Triss’s body froze, tense and twisted in place by some unseen force, her brown eyes swam with terror unable to move. Adva’s eyes narrowed in concentration; finger flexed tightly as the whole of Triss’s body went into a paralysis, arms tightly pressed into her body. A strained scream pushed itself through clenched teeth, Geralt’s eyes glided from one woman to the other, Adva stance immediately relaxed as she sent a panicked look over at the Witcher. The Mage fell with a thud. With a gurgled cough and a splutter. Adva knelt beside her teacher, eyes brimming with concerns.

‘Oh gods, Triss are you okay? Can you stand it? I am so sorry …I’ the young women half sobbed as she helped her mentor to her feet.

‘I am fine…I think…I think that is enough for today. I must be cramping up. I have some research I need to finish, Avda take the rest of the day off’ Triss shot a look over Adva’s shoulder before limping inside.

Geralt looked on pensively, hanging back as he observed the couple, his eyes followed Triss’s figure as she retreated into the house. It was certain that in the last couple of weeks, Adva had grown stronger and much more confident in her ability, but the book was still undeciphered, Triss had spent much time struggle across the passages. With every growing day, the concern increased to discover who or what she Adva was, as with every day the need Geralt felt increased, Triss’s potions only did so much to mellow the effect of their bond. Adva shifted nervously from foot to foot, her fingers twisting and winding in her hands. In their short time together, her hair had grown to swish around her shoulders, which she had pulled into a high pin undo affair, revealing her tendered neck, which meant her scent was even more pungent in the air. The sweat that collects was even more raw and fresh; his cock once again began to harden. To see his mate need comforting pulled out all the primal instincts to comfort, if he put his hands on her there was no telling what he would do and he couldn’t.

‘Will she be okay?’ Adva sniffed.

‘She will be fine’ Geralt grunted out before turning to stride back to his training.

Adva glanced between the house and the withdrawing Witcher, her eyes a swirl of apprehension before chasing after Geralt

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wood exploded off the poor tree as Geralt thrashed and jabbed his hands into the wood. Surrounding her was a graveyard of trees, fragmented and ripped apart, the Witcher’s sword had broke 20 minutes ago, but this did not deter him. Instead, he now pummelled the battered wood with his bare fists as animalistic noise erupted from his chest. The man in front of her was totally wreaked, pure sin, bare-chested, and ever movement showed of his flexing chest, his hair a mess of silver strand, giving him a wild a dangerous look. Adva bites her lips as she gazed at him; the familiar ache between her thighs was back. In the dead, on the night, the throbbing would keep awake till the agony was too much. Her inexperienced hand clumsily made her down to her wet core, trying to bring herself to the edge; she would teeter for what felt like hours before sobbing in defeat and exhaustion into her pillow unsatisfied.

The longer she stood watching, the more aggressive he became. Despite the power of his thrusts, he seemed tired, the dark circle underneath his eyes were almost violet in colour against his golden skin. It did not escape her notice that he was breathing through his mouth rather than his nose as he moved which for a prised fighter seemed strange, but over the last week, a lot of things he did were strange. The aggressive whispered conversation between Triss and himself, the way he seemed to stalk everyone. He had become more aloof and moody, he would escort her to the town every morning, but often he would remain stony and unmoving if she dared bring up the unnecessary need for a chaperon he would all but bite her head off.

‘Geralt maybe you should stop… you don’t look well. Maybe you should try and get some sleep.’ Adva pleaded as she reached a hand out to grip his forearm.

‘Don’t you think I have fucking tried’ Geralt snarled recoiling back, with a pained scowl distorting his features as he marched deep into the ornament garden.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt growled as he shifts from side to side. He tried adding and taking away pillows, arranging blankets then kicking them off. Flopping on his back Geralt huffed a piece of hair out of his eyes. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat from the almost permanent fever that had gripped him for days. The potion on his nightstand remained unopen and undrunk; they had a little effect on halting the effect of their bond. In honesty, he was sure Triss had not up the dosages as he demanded to drive the pair together. Groaning the heat spiked again as he smelt the intoxicating scent of apples and the ocean but there was something more, a musky, earthy scent. Geralt has smelt her desire, and in his weaker moments though of nothing more than throwing her down in the long grass and doing things that would make a harlot blush. The Witcher’s fingers dug into the bedding; he knew that smell, the one that would bombard the house at night. In the dead of night, he could smell her touching herself, a desperate and frantic smell that took all his self-control not to march into her room rip her nightclothes off and ravage her untouched body.

A soft knocked tapped pieced the deadly quiet of the room ‘Geralt can I come in?’ the tender voice of his mate called from behind the door.

‘Fuck off’ roared Geralt and threw a pitcher of water against the door.

Adva waited a moment, taking several deep breaths before she swung the door open. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her eyes drank in the scene in front of her. Geralt was sprawled across the bed, a white bed sheet the only thing cover his lower half and chest still bare and shinning in the flickering candlelight.

‘I said fuck off’ the white-haired man raged with glowing amber eyes.

Adva sidestepped the shattered vase on the floor, keeping her eye on the floor to stop herself ogle the man in front of her.

‘Geralt…please let me help. Jaskier told me you have trouble sleeping. I have balm.’ Adva held out a bowl of ingredient, looking through a forest of hair hopefully at the man.

Geralt eyes soften as he settled down in the middle of the bed and tapped the empty at his side before folding them behind his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. ‘What is it?’

‘4 sprigs of Lavender, two blobs of Flobberworm Mucus, Valerian Sprigs, Sunflower oil and beeswax and my secret ingredient.’ Adva listed off as she added a splash of alcohol to the wax-like substance and turned it into a fragrance balm, Geralt could help but smile as she placed the bowl between them and began to mix the whip the mixture into a pale purple paste.

When she was creating some potion, she looked at her happiest, content and smiling. Geralt notice that about her first then how she refuse to follow ingredient and instruction much to Triss’s frustration instead measuring things out by hand and substituting ingredient she thought would be a better fit. His little mate was a maverick.

‘How did you come across this concoction?’ Geralt sniffed as the air filled with lavender and valerian.

‘Being a maid in a brothel comes with learning a few things, the sorts of melodies I would make salves and balm for would make even you fearless Witcher’s flinch.’ Adva smiled as she continued to mix, occasionally stopping to add a few drops of alcohol to the solution.

Geralt wrinkled his nose at the thought ‘I can imagine.’

‘Here. Rub it into your chest before you sleep in will help ease you in a dreamless slumber. The more you put on, the deeper your sleep.’ Adva smiled tenderly at the tired Witcher. In the soft light of escaping through the curtain make Geralt almost look sweet, unguarded and vulnerable.

‘I can’t’ Geralt fake coughed ‘I am too ill.’ Another cough.

‘Fake coughing isn’t going to work. I have seen all the tricks’ Adva smiled at his feeble attempt.

‘You’re too caring to leave me here just in case I am telling you the truth. I am too weak’ Geralt raised his eyes brow at her as he gestured to his eyes to his chest.

‘Geralt I have just seen you destroy all the trees in the garden, I very much doubt your too weak to rub a little balm onto your chest.’ Adva countered, pushing the balm towards him.

‘That why I am too weak’ Geralt opposed, pushing the bowl back, letting his large digits brush against hers, enjoying the delicate blush that had started to form.

Half-heartedly huffing, Adva scoped up the soft paste in her fingers and warmed it between her palms. She slowly began to massage the purple paste into his chest, earning a deep moan from him. Beneath her finger, she could feel his coarse chest hair, it rubbed enticingly against her skin, another scope of balm was added, and she smoothly rubbed large soft circles in his chest. Avda worked at relaxing the tense muscles in his chest; it took considerable effort by Geralt didn’t protest. Instead, he lay contented under her hands, purring gently as she worked in the paste. Glancing up a coy smile tugged on the corners of her mouth; the golden orbs held hers for a few moments before the heavy lids different shut. Slowly, her hands slackened as the Witcher’s begin to drift.

‘Stay with me’ he whispered, grabbing her hands and holding them to her chest as he succumbed to exhaustion.

‘Good night Geralt’ Adva whispered, pressing her lip lightly to his forehead as she caressed his cheek as she lazed next to him. 

I couldn't stop my self from posting. Some very exciting chapters coming up.

If you would like to be tagged please message me. 

@broco8​ @introvertedmouse​ @threepupsinapuddle​ @shesthelastjedi​ @luxyash​ @celestial-vomit​

[rainwolfheart]

a while back, I made a post about a Thedas!M9 AU and so here’s an Exandria!DAII AU because I love the Kirkwall crew. Or Port Damali crew now.

Anders was born in Tal’Dorei, but came to Wildemount as a child and was quickly scouted by Trent Ikithon for his potential. Anders proved to be ill-suited to being a Volstrucker, and eventually escaped the order, but not without significant trauma and amnesia. In his flight, he encountered an ethereal celestial who called itself Justice and nurtured his hatred of the Cerberus Assembly. Anders allowed Justice to possess him, but together they formed something more akin to Vengeance. He wound up in Port Damali, where he worked as a healer, hiding from the Volstrucker and planning to take down the Assembly. Human wizard (school of abjuration), Volstrucker agent background.

Aveline also hails from Tal’Dorei, originally a soldier in the Aegis Regiment of Fort Daxio. She fled to Wildemount during the Chroma Conclave’s occupation, losing her husband Wesley along the way. She managed to get a job with the Zhelezho of Port Damali and eventually rose to the rank of captain, cracking down on Myriad activity and piracy in the city. She eventually remarried to another Zhelezho, Donnic. Human fighter (battle master), soldier background.

Bethany fled Westruun with Aveline and her sibling (see Hawke below). If she is taken on the expedition to the Underdark, she dies, or is rescued by a small group from the Claret Orders, who save her with a blood hunter mutagen and take her to train with them in the Greying Wildlands. If left in Port Damali, she is imprisoned by mage-hunters. Human sorcerer (wild magic)/blood hunter (order of the mutant), or sorcerer/wizard (school of conjuration), folk hero background.

Carver fled Westruun with Aveline and his sibling (see Hawke below). Like Bethany, he can die or become a blood hunter, otherwise he becomes a mage-hunter. Human fighter (champion)/blood hunter (order of the mutant), or fighter/paladin (oath of the watchers), folk hero background.

Fenris was kept as a slave by a Draconian nobleman named Danarius, the only elf in his “collection.” Danarius was a power-hungry dunamancer with connections in the Dynasty. He experimented on Fenris with residuum. Fenris fled during the fall of Draconia, but Danarius survived and continued to hunt him throughout Wildemount—though slavery was abolished with the fall of Draconia, there are still Draconians who keep slaves, and Danarius did not want to lose his prized possession. Fenris harbours a hatred of arcane magic for what it did to him. High elf fighter (echo knight), soldier background.

Hawke fled Westruun with Aveline and their sibling, aided by a mysterious Ashari druid (who was actually Raishan). They joined the many refugees in Port Damali. While there, a group claiming to be Krynn defectors arrives, shipwrecked, and the Marquis allows them sanctuary in the docks. The Marquis, however, is paranoid about magic, particularly the strange kind practiced by the Krynn defectors, and defies the rest of the Clovis Concord by outlawing arcane magic in the city, policed by specially-trained mage-hunters. Hawke has to choose a side. Hawke is a human of any class, folk hero background.

Isabela is, unsurprisingly, a pirate captain on the Menagerie Coast, of Ki’Nau heritage. She is a member of the Revelry, with all the excitement and tension that brings. She steals and then loses a Luxon beacon, hastening tensions between the Empire and the Dynasty. Human rogue (swashbuckler), sailor (Revelry pirate) background.

Merrill hails from the Pallid Grove, a community of elves who were thought lost during the Calamity but have recently made themselves known again. Two of her clanmates fell mortally ill from an elven mirror, tainted by Torog before the Calamity, that was uncovered in the Cyrios Mountains. Determined to reclaim the artifact, Merrill turned to blood magic to fix it, and was turned away by her clan for it. Pallid elf sorcerer (wild magic), outlander background.

Sebastian is the scion of a noble family in Deastok, related to the Darringtons. Originally a wild child, his parents sent him off to become an acolyte at the Chantry of the Dawn in Rexxentrum. He ran away, but eventually renewed his faith and became a priest. Lady Harimann, his family’s longtime ally from Port Damali, hired assassins to kill the Vaels while under the influence of a demon, forcing Sebastian to avenge them. Human paladin (oath of devotion), acolyte background, or rogue (scout) if you prefer he doesn’t have spells.

Tallis is a non-drow elf from the Krynn Dynasty, operating as a spy and assassin for the Krynn on the Menagerie Coast. She enlists the help of Hawke and friends to stop another spy from selling secrets that could tip the balance of the War of Ash and Light. “Tallis” is a codename. High elf rogue (assassin), spy background.

Varric grew up in Hupperdook, but when his family fell from grace, they relocated to Port Damali. While his father and Bartrand build a successful career as merchants, Varric preferred the life of a storyteller and Grinner. During an expedition to the Underdark, Bartrand left him to die and made off with a dangerous artifact, an idol of Zehir. Hill dwarf bard (college of lore), Grinner background, or rogue (mastermind) if you prefer he doesn’t have spells.

(might do a DAO or DAI version eventually, stay tuned)

EDIT: Added Tallis and corrected Merrill’s race (don’t know why I wrote wood elf when I meant for her to be a pallid elf)

[thirstyforred]

drop the alzur meta king

ok I'm getting drunk while writing this and also i haven't read Season of Storms and all I know about it is that there are in that book some descriptions of Rissberg, so I guess also some throwaway lines about Alzur

and also we're still like in the middle of his Journey, i doubt by the end there will be anything that's gonna prove me wrong, but still

so my take is based on what i knew when his Journey started, after reading Witcher's Journal and going wild while writing Self-similarity [i mean it is connected, in a way]

so Alzur is that semi-mystical figure, the most amazing sorcerer that walked the Continent, Bekker who? And he wasn't just good at shooting lightning bolts, he was the scientist.

I really love how magic in the Witcher isn't just this high fantasy thing that works only on intent and feel, but it's borderline scientific. Show me a meeting of Capitua and the NASA center and I wouldn't find a difference - nerds all around. That's why Alzur's project are so interesting - he created new spells, some kinda basic, but still powerful, like his shield, some just straight-up crazy, jak Double Cross, which we still don't know what it does exactly. Is it some sort of jrpg greater summon? why the hell anyone would need to summon Godzilla?

but he also did that whole genetically advanced insectoids project, again, why the hell you need a big worm, man...

and ofc the Witchers.

and i will say it, the idea to have spec ops to deal with monsters all around the countryside is cool. the execution? working, but i think we all have some notes on that.

so alzur traveled all around the continent looking for orphans or just buying kids, who cares anyway, and then taking them to Rissberg to experiment on them. and yeah, it's not like news, everyone knows about the Trial of Grass, but that's the guy who literally tortured kids, boys and girl, age 10, and we know it from Erland's account, and the thing is, Alzur essentially didn't know if or how it's all gonna work. like yeah, he believed he's gonna succeed eventually, but he was just throwing stuff at a wall and observing what's gonna stick. it's a fucking miracle that from that first batch he got 5 survivors.

but considering that literally 3/4 of test subject died nobles or whoever who sponsored his whole deal backed down, but you see Alzur, and that's like a big part of his whole characterization, Alzur doesn't give a fuck. he's right, he's genius, fucking force incarnated, he's gonna do whatever he wants. so he took everything that wasn't nailed, and whoever wanted to work with him, and moved to some other ruined castle where he simply kept doing his thing. and again, the idea of witchers? cool af, but maybe add some therapy for young mutants? because then we end up with weird stuff like vipers going full Sparta or just Erland in general

and the thing is, that pisses me off the most here, but also fine whatever, what else could he have done, it's not like he was supposed to stay and oversee the making of witchers forever, and instead he fucked off and got himself killed in Maribor, good fucking riddance, but I'm projecting and it really feels like he just didn't care. he came, he did, he fucked off. but the thing is that he killed and traumatized a bunch of people, and got out without even a slap on the wrist, he even died in an unrelated thing.

but no! "what he did was controversial and he was essentially renegade, but at the end of the day it was also pretty fucking cool" istredd wrote that, well not exactly, and it's a way bigger quote but the magical nerds never had ethics classes in aretuza or ban ard, or even just basic feeling of empathy. i sound like radovid lol, but that's a thing, remember that almost every mage seeing geralt or other witchers immediately goes "hey can i cut you open and rearrange your guts?"

fuck the casualties mentality all around that globe

but anyway let get back to substance, because if Alzur is shitty, then you know that Jacques de Aldersberg is worse

tho not really, because Salamandra didn't turn kids into mutants, as far as we know, and also like, JdA had actually reason for that, other than "i just think i can pull it off", yeah, he was just as full of himself, the self-proclaimed messiah, but at least he was partially right about the White Frost being a giant ass problem

unsurprisingly I'm Jacques apologizer, huh

[a-stars-art-blog]

Some OC doodles! You know, it was really nice to do something free digital doodles If you’re interesting in learning more about them I’ll leave something under

Top Left: His name is Green. He is a wild but calm murderer who kills people and collects their souls to give his boss power. He’s one of my oldest and beloved OCs but he hasn’t changed much. I’m thinking I might change his story because my ideas change a lot from when I was 12 lol

Top Right: His name is Gabriel. He’s a short (4′11′’) blind man. He is part of a group called The 8 Great Mages of which he ranks 8th (The 8GM are made up of the 8 strongest mages in the country) His magic allows him to manipulate Earth however he likes. Has a long horizonal scar running across his eyes. Gay.

Bottom Left: He is simply known as Gold Boy. His hair and body have the color of gold. He was born in a world where people are colored different colors of the rainbow. Gold Boy is a mutant as shown by the mutant’s signature trait: Red eyes. Mutants are treated worse then crap. So he’s spent his whole life getting beaten and forcing to live a life of thievery and hiding.

Bottom Right: His name is Ova. He kind of looks evil here but he is actually a very important hero. He is Gabriel’s coworker and ranks 2nd in the 8GM. He has extremely powerful celestial themed magic. Rest assured, you’re a villain and you’re fighting Ova, the last thing you see before you’re knocked out will be very beautiful~ He is actually a very calm and composed person, but I just wanted to draw him go a little feral for funsies

[victorlimadelta]

my best shitpost-an-au work is done on my drive to work so please take this shitpost of a witcher au that i’m affectionately nicknaming ‘school of the lion’

characters are in no particular order with bonuses at the end

hunk: eskel analog. that boy has never done anything wrong a day in his life but got thrown into a combat-intensive lifestyle by basically being sold into slavery and he makes the most out of it that he can. prefers being a ‘captive’ witcher of a locale or noble for the job security, and so he doesn’t have to take so many dangerous contracts. strongest sign: yrden. accidentally fell in love with an elf named toruviel. disaster duo with lance.

lance: jaskier analog. nickname ‘dandy lion’ because he’s a flirt and a bard. manages to attach himself to a witcher’s side just to be an absolute bisexual disaster and a true pest. better with a song than a weapon, but can and will snipe you with filavandriel’s bow just as well as with his lute. always managing to get himself into trouble with his extracurricular activities and needs his ass saved by a witcher, more often hunk than not.

pidge: ciri analog, but more w3:wh ciri than show/book ciri. child surprise of the white lion, she and the white lion have an extensive history and he thinks of her as an adoptive daughter. her family has been kidnapped by the wild hunt and she will not stop until she finds them. acts as a magical conduit, or ‘source,’ and can’t really control it; angry at needing to be babysat so she doesn’t hurt those around her. can manipulate space and time and slip into alternate realities just by forcefully rearranging reality around her until it suits the reality she means to manifest. (in other words, magic, but in exploiting infinitesimally unlikely possibilities.) knows some tricks from the school of the lion but can’t perform signs and has not undergone the mutations (nor could she, as she’s a girl). small, slight, dangerous, and just a little bit fey.

keith: a weird combination between lambert and yennefer. every time i write keith in an au he truly becomes a child of two worlds and this one isn’t any different. he’s one of the ones that’s a means of payment for a contract, of the type of ‘take the first thing you see when you walk in the door,’ when he had already been left by his mother and his father had died, leaving him a ward of the local village and absolutely unwanted. he’s undergone witcher mutations, went through the first few trials, then basically said ‘fuck you and fuck this’ and fucked off from the school of the lion stronghold to seek out where he comes from and why he feels so attuned to signs, like even moreso than most witchers. turns out his mother was a mage, but not an aretuzan ivory-tower politicking-to-control-the-world type. he’s taken in by his mother’s people and taught to the limits of his ability, as fast as he can learn, and his latent abilities are impressive. his magic is chaotic and destructive and dark, barely-controlled and terrifying in its intensity, and he still has witcher combat training on top of it. unwittingly used as a spy by the brotherhood, then lodge, in their complicated games of politics; not sorry to see either of them fall. because he’s a wild sorcerer, he hasn’t, ah... how do i say this delicately. he can still have children, basically.

shiro: the white lion of garrison. not only did he undergo the standard witcher mutations, but he put himself under a second, more lethal round voluntarily, to prove a point. when he was sold to the school, he was a mutant of a child, twisted, weak and deformed. he came out of his trials with supernatural swordsmanship, adept signing, expert alchemy, and the encyclopedic knowledge of monsters that it takes to become a traveling witcher-for-hire. of course, the trials took his arm, and the color from his hair. dares anyone to say anything about his predilections, because it’s in bad taste to mock the one person who can save your family from, let’s say, a striga. does in fact create an errant destiny bond with keith due to a horrible misadventure with a genie that was, apparently, trying to kill lance. (i guess in every au they’re just supernaturally bonded. keith will always be shiro’s first, last, only, and every wish.) truly one of the last of a dying breed, misunderstood by most and finding solace only in his close friends.

the best part is that this au leads to things like shiro’s personal moral code being ‘if i’m to choose between evils, then i prefer not to choose at all.’ or keith flirting with shopkeeps by saying ‘i’ve never been shy a day in my life.’ or shiro telling keith ‘every time i’m near you i say more in five minutes than i’ve said in weeks.’ or lance introducing himself to shiro just all ‘i love how you just... sit in the corner and... brood.’ or the concept that shiro and pidge are destiny-bonded family that will always, always find each other.

[asweetprologue]

Fandom: The Witcher Pairings: Geralt/Jaskier  Words: 16,147 Chapter: 1/5 Summary: After a job goes wrong, Geralt must rely on Jaskier as he is left blind and deaf. As they attempt to navigate the curse and find out how to lift it, Geralt comes to realize that his feelings for the bard have grown deeper - but how can he know if Jaskier returns those feelings if Geralt can't see or hear him?

Also on AO3

your skin carries echoes of me

Winter in Temeria was a hell of a thing. The entire country was, broadly speaking, a damp and slightly rancid place. From the time of the first thaw until the Velen equinox, it was redeemable by virtue of the sweeping golden fields in the countryside and the lush, vibrant forests in the west. Come winter, however, the forests became gray, fractured matchsticks scratching at the sky, the golden fields rotting away into mud and gravel. Even when it wasn’t cold enough to set your teeth on edge it was wet, slimy and miserable. Humans and monsters alike tended to burrow into their respective hovels until the warm rays of the spring sun graced the region once again.

Which is why Geralt, finding himself deep in the south as autumn began turning the landscape around them a fetching red-gold hue, was in desperate need of some quick and easy work. Wintering in Kaer Morhen would be out of the question. There was no way that he could make it to the pass through the Kestrel Mountains before the winter snows claimed the valley. And besides that, he had a particularly aggressive tag-along that he suspected wouldn’t fare nearly as well as Roach might along the steep mountain trails.

Said tag-along was standing besides Geralt at a notice board in the ramshackle town they’d stopped at for supplies, a pout on his youthful face. He crossed his arms over his chest, the deep navy of his current ensemble stained near black in places from the muck of their travels. “I just think,” he continued, resolutely ignoring the fact that Geralt was ignoring him, “that she cheated us of well-earned income. I mean, ‘a fearsome beast tearing apart the garden and scaring off the sheep.’ Those were her words! ‘Kill the beastie that’s ate my poor Bella.’ That was the job! It’s not our fault the culprit was a wild dog and not a bloody griffin.”

Geralt pulled a flyer down from the board, looking it over before turning it in Jaskier’s direction. “Caravan escort?”

The other man sniffed, eyeing the paper with a distrustful look. “The last one of those ended poorly. If they want entertainment that’s one thing.”

“Hmm. Roadside protection is asking too much?” He stuck the flyer back in its place, looking over the others again. Nothing too promising - someone asking for help with autumn logging, the herbalist looking for fool’s parsley, a dog gone missing. Not exactly witchers’ work, though he supposed he was reasonably skilled enough in alchemy to dig around for roots and plants if it came to that.

“It’s not that it’s not a reasonable request,” Jaskier said. “They just always seem to want it for a very particular reason that they aren’t at all ready to discuss with the hired help. It’s just. Well. It’s one thing to prepare oneself for the inevitability of bandits on the road. Quite another to wake in the middle of the night with an assassin’s blade at your throat in nothing but your drawers.” Geralt shot him an amused look. “A situation that you handled admirably. Still. We wouldn’t be in these circumstances if that hag hadn’t skimped on us.”

“Hmm.” People rarely, if ever, paid what they said they would in Geralt’s experience. Once their fear of the monster was assuaged, their distaste for mutants resurfaced with a vengeance. They seemed to have little remorse about trying to weasel their way out of their agreements, though it happened with less and less frequency the longer Jaskier kept his company.

Geralt glanced back at the bard as he turned away from the unhelpful notice board and back towards Roach. The man had been traveling off and on with him for some time now, though this latest stint had been longer than typical. They crossed paths often enough, but usually Jaskier would only spend a few weeks trekking after the witcher before disappearing back into civilization once again. He would spend his time on the road singing snippets of ballads, humming seemingly thoughtless tunes and plucking the strings of his lute absentmindedly. The witcher would have said that the bard used his time with Geralt to freeload if he didn’t inevitably hear the same snatches of song on the lips of strangers, even in the most remote parts of the land. And he had to admit, his purse had been significantly heavier, the eyes of strangers less accusatory, in the last few years than they had been in decades.

Jaskier continued, unaware as ever of Geralt's internal musings. “She hired a witcher, and that’s what she should have paid for. I don’t think -” Jaskier was suddenly interrupted by a hand reaching out to snatch at the sleeve of his embroidered doublet. He made a small noise of surprise, likely in reaction both to the hand and to Geralt’s sudden move into his space as he faced the newcomer. “Excuse me!” the bard exclaimed, and Geralt was unsure whether it was directed at him or the assailant.

Who, fortunately, turned out to be a pleasant looking middle aged woman, who quickly let go of Jaskier’s tunic when Geralt stepped forward. She backed away, shoulders drawn in fear. “F-forgive me, sirah, but if you please, I have a request for you?”

She phrased the statement as a question, and Geralt attempted to relax his posture invitingly before he realized that her eyes were unfocused and clouded. She was blind. He cleared his throat. “Go on then.”

“Well, sir, um. I heard your companion -” she gestured vaguely in Jaskier’s direction, leaning around Geralt’s shoulder - “mention you work as a witcher? If that’s for true, I would ask for your help. We’ve not much by way of coin, but we’ll find some way to gather a nice pouch for you if you care to help us. We’ve been plagued for too long now, and I’m not sure how much more we can take.” Her hands twisted in her stained apron, which smelled faintly of flour and cloves. A baker, or a baker’s wife.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“A witch,” she said, her voice pitched slightly lower, as if she feared said witch was listening in. “It began with the chickens. She was takin’ em at night, to use in some foul ritual, and then a pig. And the animals in the wood have all run off, it seems. Samuel, our hunter, hasn’t found more than a few pheasants in weeks, and with the snows comin’ we’ll need meat to dry. A few of our men tried to confront her, and when they came back they were all foul tempered, mean spirited to a one whereas before they were gentle souls. I went to confront the wench myself, and she…” Here the woman grew quiet, drawing herself inwards as she reached up a hand to hesitantly touch below one of her sightless eyes. After a moment she shook herself and stood again, shoulders back in defiance of her plight. “Please, master witcher, help rid us of this scourge and we will find a way to repay you.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak and found himself cut off by Jaskier, who was already pushing his way forward to gently take the woman’s hand in his own. “My lady, I give you my word that we will do everything in our power to help you with your plight. Consider it done.”

The woman looked near tears. “Oh, bless you both. Bless you.”

Geralt huffed, annoyed at Jaskier accepting his job for him despite the fact that he’d planned to say the same himself, though in significantly less words. “Fine.” Jaskier turned towards him with a bright grin. “Where can we find her?”

* * *

On the plus side, despite the fact that this witch seemed like, well, a bitch, they were typically easier to deal with than monsters. They usually wanted something, or were trying to get something, but they weren’t nearly as difficult to manage as a kikimora or, gods forbid, a sorceress. Most weren’t actually capable of going up against a professional witcher; their magics were more indirect in nature, a glimpse into the future here or slew of bad fortune there. Very few had anything approaching the battle magics wielded by true mages, or even the alchemical knowledge of a witcher. Most could be reasoned with, forced into moving on or, if necessary, put down with a bit of steel. Geralt was sincerely hoping that it wouldn’t come to the later in this case.

Which was why Jaskier had been allowed to tag along, much to Geralt’s chagrin.

The bard, for his part, seemed happy to have been allowed to come. Despite his detailed and often blatantly exaggerated retellings of Geralt’s exploits, Jaskier was rarely allowed to actually come along for the battles themselves. He had, at this point, utterly perfected the art of sneaking after the witcher on hunts, staying far enough away that Geralt’s heightened senses wouldn’t pick up his presence and closing in when Geralt was distracted by his quarry. It had, to the witcher’s extreme annoyance, actually proved useful once or twice. It wasn’t that his life was typically in danger when he was injured in a fight, but. Well. Having someone around to help patch up his wounds and haul him back to an inn was an improvement on lying in the mud throwing back potions until he could stand again.

This time, Jaskier was traipsing along by the witcher’s side, after he had - again, much to Geralt’s annoyance - convinced the witcher that he would actually be an asset on this particular hunt. Geralt anticipated that this job would involve a lot more talking than fighting, and even he could admit where his skill set ended and Jaskier’s began. In spite of his frequent bouts of oversharing and his tendency towards nervous chatter, the bard was profoundly charismatic. Geralt was made keenly aware of this every time he found himself searching for Jaskier in a crowd or buying the man another round at the bar in spite of his own oft-light coin purse. It wasn’t his fault; Jaskier just did that to people.

He hoped it would come in handy this time around. He really didn’t want to have to kill this witch.

“So, what do you think she’ll want?” Jaskier said, his eyes on his boots as he unsubtly moved through the underbrush. He’d recently been convinced to finally purchase a pair suitable for traveling, and had immediately had them dyed an aggressive shade of mauve. “New dress? Pearl earrings? Our first born sons?”

“Witchers can’t have children,” Geralt corrected absentmindedly, holding a branch back so that Jaskier could pass. “And I’m assuming you’ve already fathered many.”

The bard spluttered indignantly at him, and Geralt turned around to hide his smirk. He paused suddenly, holding a hand out towards Jaskier to stop both his squawks of protest and his forward momentum. It said much about Jaskier’s character and his time with Geralt that he halted immediately. “I think we’re here.”

The cottage was small, almost cozy, with smoke curling lazily out of the chimney and ivy clutching the west facing wall. It looked more like a place that someone’s elderly relative might retire to than a witch’s hovel.

“Looks like a nice place to settle down,” Jaskier pipped, echoing Geralt’s thoughts uncannily. “Should we knock?”

Geralt held up a finger and Jaskier quieted, allowing the witcher to listen. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose as he peeled away the layers of noise around them. A witcher’s senses were sharp, but often finding specific information in the cacophony of life was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It took years of training to learn how to turn the blunt instrument of their broad senses into a finely honed scalpel. Geralt fell into that place as he had so many times before, concentrating on the house and everything in it. The thick smell of honeysuckle from the plants growing against the side of the cabin, the sweet scent of cedar and pine, the faint rust of old blood. Rustling leaves, the muffled snap of wood burning. No shuffling footsteps, no soft sighs. No heartbeat, fluttering quickly away in comparison to the slow rush in his own ears.

“She’s not here,” he said a moment later, satisfied that the witch was nowhere in the immediate vicinity. “Stay put. I’ll see if I can find out where she went.”

“Tch,” Jaskier said, for once following directions as he leaned against a nearby tree. “Out looking for babies to gobble up, perhaps?”

“You’re thinking of witchers,” Geralt quipped, already checking for footprints around the stoop. Jaskier barked a laugh behind him.

“I had no idea your diet was so restrictive,” the bard replied, mirth coloring his tone. “It’s an honest mixup, you see, witches and witchers.”

It was novel, still, having someone to jest with while in moments like these. Geralt looked up to find Jaskier watching him with an amused expression, something soft in his gaze that Geralt had seen before. It always lingered with him when Jaskier inevitably moved on. He could say with absolute certainty that no one else had ever looked at him like that - with an utter lack of fear and pure, open affection. Feeling off balance, Geralt tried to focus back on what he was doing, away from Jaskier’s too-blue eyes.

This, too, was part of the reason Jaskier wasn’t invited on hunts.

The man was… distracting. Geralt wasn’t sure exactly why. He was loud, and annoying, and occasionally disarmingly funny. And sometimes, when Geralt brushed a leaf out of his hair and Jaskier turned to him with a grateful smile that was devoid of nervousness and the sunlight through the trees made his skin honeyed gold, he was very… something. Something distracting.

It wasn’t great for Geralt’s concentration.

That’s what he would blame it on, later, when he was cursing himself for not noticing her approach. Jaskier was too busy thinking of something else snappy to say about witchers kidnapping children, and Geralt was too busy not-thinking about the way Jaskier’s eyes shone when he laughed, and the witch walked up already fuming.

She was tall, almost as tall as Geralt, with brown hair woven through with silver cord and viney tattoos winding up her arms. At first they looked to be flower designs, but Geralt’s keen eyes could make out small, detailed runes etched out between the artwork. The witch’s bright blue eyes, cold as chips of Yuletide frost, bore into him intensely. “You are trespassing,” she said sharply, sliding her hand into a woven bag she had draped over one shoulder. “I told you all not to return here.”

Geralt stood slowly, resisting the urge to look towards Jaskier. From where she was standing, it was possible that the witch could not see him, hidden as he was in the shadows of the forest. She had emerged from another path that came around the backside of the house. Based on her equipment, it looked like she’d been hunting for herbs, possibly near the river to the north of the town. “Folks from the village sent us to discuss the… situation,” he said slowly. “W- I don’t want any trouble.”

The witch gave him a disbelieving glare. “Trouble is all I get these days, witcher. Don’t look surprised, I’ve heard the songs. I’m not a complete recluse. I know the White Wolf, as they call you, or the Butcher of Blaviken. I suppose I should be honored that you’ve graced my small corner of the world.” She spat the words at him, sneering. “Tell those simpering peasants that if they want to burn me at the stake they’ll have to come and light the tinder themselves.”

Geralt sighed. This was more antagonism than he’d hoped to start out with. “Haven’t heard anything about stakes. They just want you to stop stealing chickens.”

“The blood was for protection rites, to protect my home from the whoresons that have given me no rest since I arrived. They came a fortnight back with accusations on their tongues and cleavers in their hands, and I turned their fury back towards those they love.” She smirked. “I thought it was poetic.”

“People are always spiteful,” Geralt said, annoyed. “You can’t pay them back in kind.” He wasn’t unsympathetic, of course. Throughout his life he had more often than not been spat on and cursed at whenever he showed his face around humans. They knew that he was other, sensed how dangerous he could be if he decided to turn his skills on the ones who fed him. In his experience, this did not make them more cautious in his presence. People reacted to fear with violence in most cases. But the only appropriate response was to turn the other cheek. He could cleave through an angry mob without a second thought, destroy an entire village if it struck his fancy, but it was not what he had been made for. He had refused to let himself be molded into a monster for decades. The least this woman could do was try the same.

The witch broke him from his frustrated thoughts with a snort. “Easy for you to say. Always moving, never in one place for long. People call you a hero. ‘Friend of humanity.’” She scoffed. “They call me a devil. I could help them, and instead they cast stones my way. No,” she said, eyeing him coldly. “I will not bow to them.”

“I can’t let you continue to do them harm.” He felt tired. This wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go. Against his will, he found himself looking in Jaskier’s direction, and found the bard looking back at him with wide eyes. He seemed conflicted, his hands wringing the strap of his lute case nervously as he looked between Geralt and the source of the witch’s voice. Debating whether to try and step in, solve things diplomatically, Geralt realized. He shook his head slightly, and Jaskier nodded, though his brow furrowed in distress. When Geralt looked back to the witch she was watching him with an expression of disgust.

“You’re just like them,” she said, her voice angry and filled with grief. “No one understands. No one sees .” She drew herself up, pulling her hand from her bag. In it she clutched a handful of items - herbs, some kind of stone, and what looked like a human ear. “Very well. If you can hear no foul lies and see no bright pyres, you’ll do less harm to me and mine.” She raised her hand.

Several things happened in rapid succession. Geralt drew his silver sword, and ring of metal on metal echoing through the clearing as the witch tossed the objects into the air. He rushed towards her, raising his hand to begin etching the sign of quen . From his left there was a burst of noise, and he had time to think, ah, Jaskier just as the bard tackled the witch to the ground. She landed with a cry and quickly elbowed him in the jaw, a surprising move from someone so slight. Jaskier tumbled off of her from the force of it, and she turned back towards Geralt. Her eyes were full of fury as she opened her mouth and shouted a word.

Geralt’s sword swung down towards her neck, and the world went dark.

Part Two

[wiggymythwinter]

One thing that's important to me about magic in storytelling is that it feels plausible and natural. What gets my goat with arcane magic is that it's very zip-zap-boing, which is to say wacky and trademark of the general notion of superpowers if it is not narrated in a way that makes it feel like a mystical yet natural part of the world, and is kind of why divine magic may be a favourite of mine.

Divine magic has theumatic roots in real world mythology and folklore. Because of this, arcane magic has traditionally been portrayed as the antithesis of this notion, and as such the arcane feels flashy and less well rooted (just in my opinion) with the classical adventure story. In fairy tales the wizards and other magicians would manipulate the natural world a lot more than current d&d give a credit for, and spells like mage hand, most evocation magic, and leomund's tiny hut seem to be, while original and inventive, stepping away from the mystery and poetic heart of what magic can be when themes and established cause are not executed well or go unused.

For example, Brennan Lee Mulligan of Dimension 20, portrays wild-magic sorcerer Pete's magic not in the traditional "Oh your powers are chaotic and spawn from limbo, a realm of elemental chaos yada yada". He instead explains that Pete's magic is granted by the realm of dreaming, and narrates each spell in accordance to how it could relate to dreams. For example fire is not just "okay so you throw a firebolt and it hits him for blah damage". He gets Pete's (Ally) player to give an idea of what Pete may be feeling and cast spells based off that (lovely and sorcery), and the fire is described as the warm fire of a hearth from the dreams of a child, or the roaring fire of a guy fawkes, all pulled from the land of dreaming. Arcane zip-zap-boing is given a plausible and natural basis, the themes of which are integrally tied to campaign, the notions of dreams and hopes and how they can be manifested in the real world.

So when your warlock next casts witchbolt or eldritch blast, remember where you want their magic to come from, how your casting ability (int, wis, cha) contributes to the spell, and what the components might be. Adding that mysticism and wonder is what grips and inspires the players to be bolder with their spells and their use of magic. Otherwise you're just a ridiculously powerful X-man mutant. It inspires creativity and really hooks them so they feel their effect of their powers on the world and it can lead to some beautiful imagery. .