#I wonder where the humans are now? ⭐

[gynnnicsworld]

Sterek Fics (rec list)

(Personal recommendations)

[This can include a wide variation of content, from time travel, to dark fics, non-con, MPREG, etc]

Get You The Moon by; AclosedFicIsNeverRead

Words; 180K+

Ranking: 10/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Non-Con, emotional/psychological abuse, angs x1000, stiles needs a hug, good alpha Derek hale, TORTURE, Slow burn, Eventual Happy ending, Psycho!Theo, bad friend scott. (Etc)

Warning; Contains No Con. R4p3. A lot of suffering for Stiles. A lot of pain, traumas, pain x1000.

Summary:

The one where Derek has been gone for 6 months building a new life, finds out that Stiles is being assaulted by Theo, so he comes back to Beacon Hills to kick some serious ass and rescue the loudmouthed human who stole his heart.

(You will need ALL the tissues, but it will have a happy ending by the time all is said and done!)

Opinion; I'm not getting over this fanfic like; NEVER. God, I really CRIED, I SCREAMED, I GOT TOO EMOTIONAL IN EVERY CHAPTER, I JUST COULD NOT STOP.

I had a strong need to read non-stop until I finished it, but I finally finished it and it hurt, because now I need a continuation. It has the perfect ending but I just don't want to let this universe go, it's just wonderful and perfectly well constructed. Damn, I want to kiss the author's hands and brain, she/He/Them truly has just created one of the best fics in the fandom. This fic DESTROYS YOU but RECONSTRUCTS YOU at the same time. (Note: Scott is shit here)

Present by reillyblack

Words; 112K+

Ranking; 8/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags; A/B/O dynamics, enemies to lovers, Werewolf culture, alternative universe, scent marking, knotting, Werewolf mates, pack family, implied Mpreg, Pack politics. (Etc)

Summary;

When Stiles's best friend Scott presented as a werewolf, it was just the worst. It was front-page news, there were reporters outside his house asking him questions, and people at school stared and kept their distance or interrogated him mercilessly. Worst by far was that it meant Scott had to leave immediately to live with the werewolf pack in the mountains -- which no one knew anything about. Stiles couldn't even visit, so he only got to see Scott once a month when he came back to visit his mom. It sucked.

A year later, he presents too.

Opinion; This is probably one of those fics that you will never forget and want to read again and when you remember this fic it will bring back happy memories.

Waiting by: isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Words: 81K+ (Two shot)

Ranking: 5/5⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Possesive Derek, Compassionate Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf mates, Magic Derek Hale, Alternate Universe-Magic, Jealous Derek. (etc)

Summary:

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth.

“Not too close, he bites.”

Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting.

“He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton.

The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.”

“Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

Opinion: I had been looking for something to read and came across this gem, it is an entertaining read and once you start it is impossible to stop.

It keeps us trapped all the time in this world that the author built.

Derek finds himself stuck in his semi-transformed form, with his human mind missing, and he is considered; the beast

But no one can harm him or do anything to him because apparently he is connected to the nemeton and the city.

Then Stiles is selected in the blooding to be the new human to care for and feed the beast, but Stiles being Stiles can't keep things normal, and he changes everything.

Anthracite by LupusScintilla

Words: 106K+

Ranking: 4.5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐✨

Tags: Spark Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek hale, Slow Burn, Scott is a bad friend, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Hale Pack. (etc)

Summary:

It's been a quiet few years, and the McCall Pack has grown and settled. But, when the Hale Pack return to Beacon Hills they find Scott isn't as welcoming as they had hoped.

Soon they, Stiles, and Lydia, find out that not everything about the McCall Pack is as it has always seemed.

Opinion:Scott is shit here, so u better not read this if that bothers u.

The friendship between Lydia and Stiles is probably one of my favorite things in this fic, and I really love the Hale pack, Derek never had to stop being alpha, he really would have done an incredible job as you will see in this fanfic.

(The fics where Derek is the alpha get all my love, so this fic gets my love.) Stiles and Derek have a slow burn romantic development so be patient, but it's worth it.

Once you start reading you won't be able to stop.

Pack Wars by: Miss_aphelion

Words: 158k+

Ranking: 5/5⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Pack Dynamics. Kidnapping. Angst and Humor. Slow Build. Alternate Season/Series 03. Canon-Typical Violence. idiots being idiots.

Summary:

Scott liked to call it the Great Pack Divide of 2012.

Derek liked to call Scott an idiot.

(Or the one where Derek kidnaps Stiles to teach Scott a lesson, and ends up learning a few things himself)

Opinion:There is a warning in the Fic about Stiles being kidnapped but not really kidnapped, but moderately kidnapped, and that if that is any trigger for you please don't read it.

I personally recommend this fic, Stiles was kidnapped by fools and that's too funny because they should know that Stiles is too smart for that.

Put Down in Words by: paintedrecs

Words: 203K+

Ranking: 10/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Misunderstandings. Angst. Mutual Pining. Bisexual Stiles Stilinski. Demisexual Derek Hale. Alternate Universe - College/University. Alternate Universe - Human. Professor Derek Hale. College Student Stiles. Nerd Derek Hale. Musician Derek Hale. POV Alternating. Age Difference. Derek adopts a dog. Slow Build

Summary:

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Opinion: (If you think that I put all the good fics at the beginning you are wrong haha). This fic is really soft and comforting in a way I can't explain. I had actually forgotten about this fic, but checking my bookmarks, I found it.

AND THANK GOD BECAUSE I FOUND IT. It's a really sweet but tense fic, and shit I really have to read it again.

Highly recommended.

Bake to Remember, Eat to Forget by: butyoureeyessaidyes

Words: 125k+

Ranking:4/5⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bakery. Spark Stiles Stilinski. Magic. Memory Loss. AmnesiaTemporary. Angst. Canon-Typical Violence. Hurt/Comfort. Hurt Derek. Hurt Stiles. Panic Attacks. Boykisses

Summary:

It’s 6:18 A.M. on a Monday, and Stiles is using his thumbs to shape the fondant butt of a Winnie the Pooh sculpture. It’s the most action he’s seen in a long time.

--

Or the one where Stiles runs his own bakery, never locks the front door, and doesn't know he's part of a werewolf pack (until he does).

Opinion:I love bakery so combining sterek + bakery is beautiful (for me) with a little angst and memory loss and you will have a delicious fanfic that you won't be able to stop reading until you finish the last chapter.

Tell me I'm Alive by tatsukitty

Words; 37K+

Ranking; 3.5/5 ⭐⭐⭐✨

Tags; Horror body, Kidnapping, torture, panic attacks, lab rats, Mpreg, discussions of abortion, au after 5A, dub con, (etc).

Summary;

“You stayed for me?” Stiles frowned, his panic fogged brain struggling to comprehend.

“You would have stayed for me.” Derek replied seriously, as if it were solid fact. As if Stiles was a constant he didn’t have to question, a law of nature.

(Or: Post 5A, Stiles and Derek captured by the Dread Doctors and experimented on.)

Opinion; I have a thing for those fics where Derek and Stiles are each other's source of comfort and warmth, basically where they need each other. And add to that kidnapping, torture, and Derek being overpowered by his primal protective instincts towards Stiles, I really love those kinds of fics. (I know, I have a problem hahaha)

The Spaz and the Sourwolf by: TheRealDanniX

Words: 24k+

Ranking: 3/5 ⭐⭐⭐

Sumamry: When Stiles comes across something he shouldn't in the Preserve he ends up on four legs. Not that anyone in the Pack knows it's him. He's just hoping they can figure it out before anything else bad happens.

Opinion: easy to read and entertaining, it's a light read with a captivating plot. I really like "mate" stories, so Stiles and Derek being mates is definitely one of my favorite things, adding to that a bit of a plot of Stiles being cursed and turning into different animals is really cool.

Seven Years by: QueenOfAngst21

Words: 12k+

Ranking: 4/5⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Kid Fic. Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski. Fluff and angst. Mates.

Summary:

Seven years ago Stiles left Beacon Hills in the middle of the night. To them he was nothing more than a murderer now, they wouldn't even listen to him. No word for seven years, they last they heard Derek had torn out of town in search for him.

Seven years later the Sheriff responds to a shooting in progress, what he finds is an unconscious alpha on the floor, a bleeding passenger and a screaming baby in the back. The past has finally caught up to them.

Opinion; Very entertaining and truly satisfying read. I fucking loved everyone's initial shock so much, it was art.

I always love the fics where Stiles puts himself first and tells everyone to fuck off and finds love, security and family in Derek.

Stiles reunites with Scott and his pack after 7 years.

(And I love Lydia here)

The Werewolf Companion by: MargaretKire

Words:64k+

Ranking: 4/5⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Slow Burn. Lonely Derek Hale. Scent Marking. Angst with happy ending. Mates. Happy ending. Multiple orgasms. (etc)

Summary:

Stiles volunteers to be a companion for an isolated werewolf he's never met. He thought he knew way more about werewolves than it turns out he really does.

Derek didn't technically ask the Werewolf Conservation Committee for a companion human, but they insisted he have one for his mental and physical health.

Or: Derek has only had Stiles for a day, but if anything were to happen to him, he'd kill everyone in Beacon Hills and then himself.

Opinion: Derek pining for Stiles and being his number 1 protector.

Definitely seeing Derek falling in love with Stiles is my favorite thing in the world and seeing Stiles being a nervous wreck for Derek is cute.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill

Words: 32k (one shot)

Ranking; 4/5

Tag: Time travel. stiles trying not to ruin anything. Young Derek Hale. Paige (teen wolf). misunderstanding.

Summary:

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Opinion:You have to see Stiles trying not to ruin anything in the timeline but in the end he just makes what had to happen happen.

But We're Still Sleeping Like We're Lovers by: CharWright5

Words: 109k+

Ranking: 4/5⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags:Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known. Alternate Universe - everyone is a werecreature. werecoyote!stiles. Werewolf!Derek. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. alpha!Derek. Omega!Stiles. Stiles and Malia are twins. Derek and Scott are Brothers. Mating Cycles/In Heat

Summary: There are several things Stiles Stilinski knows to be facts: he's a werecoyote like his parents; his twin sister Malia could use a filter more than him; he's an Omega and terrified of his upcoming heat; and Derek Hale-McCall will never see him as anything more than his kid brother's best friend. Doesn't stop Stiles from asking the Alpha to help him during his heat. Or from developing some serious feelings that go beyond the bedroom. Basically, he's totally screwed, in more ways than one.

opinion: One thing I recognize about this fic is that the author put Stiles and Malia as siblings, and I think that tag goes well with them.

I like those fics where Derek and Scott are brothers, and I love when all that awkwardness happens between Scott and Stiles due to the fact that his brother is fucking his best friend. If you share that taste with me, this is your fic.

Don't Kiss and Tell by: Hedwig221b

words: 5k+

Ranking: 5/5

Tags: One-Sided Derek Hale/Paige. Alternate Universe - High School. Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age. Unrequited Love. Derek Hale Being an Asshole. Stiles Stilinski Being an Asshole but not to each other. Secret Relationship. Jealous Stiles Stilinski

Summary: Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something...

Opinion: This is a pretty shitty fic and you end up saying "oh shit, poor Paige" because she didn't deserve that manipulation.

although here I discovered that I could read a story where Derek and Stiles are villains but as long as they love each other I read it happily.

You Lunatics! by charmingplanes

words: 139k+

Ranking 5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Mates. Kidnapping. Kidnapped Stiles. disappearences. Mystery. Pack Dynamics. Pack Feels. Pack Family. Magical Stiles Stilinski. Alpha Derek. Possessive Behavior. Possessive Derek. submissive stiles. Panic Attacks. Dubious Consent

Summary: Scott went missing and Stiles is doing everything he can to find him but after year gone people are caring less and less. Nobody listens to him anymore. So Stiles has to go alone to find him. And find him he will!

But the wolf finds Stiles first.

Before he can process what is happening, Stiles is trapped with a madman deep in the forest surrounded only by his crazy followers, who are sporting some serious claws and canines, if he's seeing correctly.

And Scott is there too.

Stiles needs to get the both of them out as soon as possible, before madman Derek returns and bites his head off.

He just need to convince his best friend to leave these lunatics behind. That's all.

He needs a plan.

Opinion:

Okay, warning again: kidnapping and a little (a lot) of possessive behavior. (Stiles tries to escape a few times.)

Here you feel a little more of real kidnapping and Stiles' fear.

But for some reason I like these fics, I have shit to fix in my head probably. Well you've been warned, there's a bit of Stockholm here…I guess.

It's where My demons hide by; littleredridinghunter

Words: 167k+

Ranking: 100/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Warning; Contains No Con. R4p3. A lot of suffering for Stiles. A lot of pain, traumas, pain x1000.

(If you can't stand this type of reading, don't read it, it's really hard to read, but it's worth it in the end.) ***READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS PLEASE, IF YOU READ IT IS AT YOUR OWN RISK***

Summary:

Stiles was used to his life going to hell. He'd just never expected it to be quite so literal.

When Rafael McCall returns to Beacon Hills after a five year absence it brings back lots of unhappy memories for Stiles, he'll do whatever he can to keep his secrets buried in order to protect those closest to him.

With Rafael's return Stiles discovers that secrets are always revealed, even if this particular time it's because of supernatural interference.

Opinion: But really this fic is beautiful at the end, well, mainly at ¾ of the end you can start to breathe in peace.

The love, patience, and support that the entire pack gives Stiles is something really nice, I'm really getting addicted to these kinds of stories where everyone is Stiles' protector. Because YES, Stiles definitely deserves all the love in the world.

And all the slow burn between Stiles and Derek is really slow... But it's worth it in the end. While you will really enjoy reading Derek totally and hopelessly in love with Stiles and vice versa.

I really don't want to give spoilers, but I advise you to have the clinex ready and something to hit, because believe me, you are going to need it.

Good luck with this fic, it's beautiful but it's a long and painful journey to the happy ending.

It's all part of the master plan by: littleredridinghunter

words; 167k+

Ranking: 100/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Warning; Contains No Con. R4p3. A lot of suffering for Stiles. A lot of pain, traumas, pain x1000.

Summary:

Stiles is taken to the Argent's basement. When he comes out he knows his life will never be the same again.

The extent at which that night changes his life becomes glaringly obvious as time goes on.

Can the pack help him heal? Or will they fail to be there for him when he needs them the most?

Opinion: You guys are really going to hate Derek, you're going to hate him, you're going to love Erika and Void, but it's going to be a little hard to forgive Derek, but He was a total idiot.

Just remembering makes me very angry… good luck, you can send me a DM to talk about this fic and the previous one…. PS: I love the author of these fics, I have a big crush, I'm literally in love with all of his/her/their works. But you guys are going to hate those assholes who torture stiles.

Fix Fics (teen wolf movie)

We'll take on the World by: LookinfForatardis

Words: 20k+

Ranking: 5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Kid Fic. Fix-it for Teen Wolf: The movie 2023. True Mates. Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale's Parents. (etc)

Summary:

Derek grew quiet, eyes searching Stiles’ face. “It’s called True Mates.”

“Do you think we…” he started, but cut himself off. He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer.

“Maybe,” Derek nodded anyway, eyes cast down. Their hands were intertwined on the bed where they sat, and Stiles traced Derek’s knuckles with his fingers.

“How would we know?”

Derek sighed and leaned over to rest his head against Stiles’ shoulder. “There’s always a sign."

Opinion: The author of this fic made a small universe where she/he shows us the dynamics in the Hale-Stilinski family, shows us Eli's growth, the typical problems of a family, and all the domesticity you can imagine.

I will never thank fic authors enough, because they put a band-aid on our hearts.

Eternally grateful to them for allowing us to read a little of their/her/his talent and for fixing the shitty movie that was THAT movie.

What comes After by:Katefkndoes

Words: 8K+

Ranking: 5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Scott is not a bad friend but Stiles is not charitable to him. Teen Wolf Movie. Spoilers. Fix It. Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things. Alpha Derek Hale. That Movie should be burned with fire. Eli Hale deserves nice things

Opinion: I simply couldn't stop crying throughout the entire fic, but in each chapter it was a cry for different reasons, in the first one it definitely destroyed me and I cried with Stiles and Eli for Derek's death, in the second I cried with Stiles for hope, and in the third I cried with happiness....I can't say much about this fic, because you really should read it.

i thought that was just a myth by: LookinfForatardis

Words: 8k+

Ranking: 5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tags: Fix-It. True Mates. Angst. Angst with a Happy Ending. Getting Together. Love Confessions. Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale's Parents. Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)

Summary:

When Stiles gets the call, he doesn't hesitate. There has to be a way to save Derek - he knows it in his gut. When the research points to one answer, Stiles has to hope that his gut is right, that it's always been right, and that Derek feels the same. Because if he does, then Stiles has a chance to save him.

A terrifying chance that requires Stiles not look at Derek once, but it's a chance nevertheless.

Opinion:What can I say? READ THAT FIC NOW, because it's really beautiful and totally worth it.

True Ending by: beargrove

Words: 1k+

Ranking: 4/5

Tag: Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale's Parents.

summary:

Derek is looking at him, incredulous. “You’re staying?”

Stiles stares at him like he’s an idiot, “You magic’d an us baby and then didn’t tell me for 15 entire years of his life. I’ve missed 15 years, you’ve made me into a deadbeat dad and I didn’t even know about it.”

Opinion: This is fucking funny, you need to read it.

_______________________________________________

Yes, they are not all the fics I have read and I still have more to recommend but honestly guys, I'm tired for today.

I'll make another rec list later but while that happens, I'll leave these with you.

I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed reading them, please message me if you want to talk about the fics or sterek in general.

@fizzie-0 (hiii, ready!)

[midmorning-bomb]

⭐ for the director’s cut <3

Thank you for indulging me, Anonymous ❤️

So! I had this idea for a sequel to Everything goes (wow) that would bring them back to Beacon Hills and circle around to Peter's failed summoning attempt.

Instead, with It's only, I ended up with the absolute set of contradictions that is Chris Argent's character and started exploring that and it kind of went over like a lead balloon. But it also led to this scene halfway through the story where Chris has to confront himself/his past/his choices (or lack thereof):

Chris gasps for air that isn’t coming.

He’s been drowning for years. God, he can’t even remember what it feels like to have his head above water.

He bribes his way in to look at the bodies. It’s hard to admit it’s easier, as a wolf, picking up things that human senses would gloss right over. He recognizes a scent on one of the bodies. It doesn’t make sense (it does, though, ice in his veins), he knows that combination. Late evenings in their garden, father-daughter bonding, teaching hunter tricks. Crushing up and blending licorice root and pennyroyal.

His hard-earned control is slipping in the rain, water sluicing down around claws and the bloody trails they leave across his chest. He lets out a ragged laugh because he knows what he did to deserve this, he knows. How could anyone grow whole out of poisoned soil? The only way he can make it through the day is to never wonder if any of them were innocent. The feral ones all alone (were they?), the ones who might have snapped (would they?), the ones who might’ve grown up...

“Dad, they weren’t good people. We made sure of that.” Pleading, righteous eyes lock on his own.

“You have to understand, Mr. Argent, we can do so much more once we get out of here. It will make all of this worth it, and we only need one mo—”

He closes his eyes and fights the urge to cover his ears. “Do you hear yourself, Lydia? You’re talking about murder. You are talking about killing someone, another someone, in cold blood.”

Learning about anchors, what tethers wolves (how to break them), is part of every hunter’s education. Chris has watched with clinical detachment as living beings before him crumble and howl out the pain after severing. Where his anchor should be, where he should be allowed to fall apart, the Nemeton twists its iron hold. There’s no escape into numbing madness, just the sound of his feet pounding against the slick ground of the forest as he runs.

“It’s the only way we can get out of here, it promised. I love you, but you really can’t stop this.”

He stares at his daughter and silence eats the growing space between them, consumes his heart and lungs, and he thinks she’s never looked more like her mother than she does right now.

Which is one of my favourites! And an area where I feel canon did a disservice* by glossing over what must be the Argents' history. Like, sorry Chris, I want to peel you like a grape and see how you work.

Also I patted myself on the back forever with the song choice for this chapter: Beautiful Hell by Adna

*From what I've read/researched, bless every fan over the years who has tried to cobble together a Teen Wolf timeline.

[corner-stories]

⭐️

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines. Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

I fully believe that, in all my years of fic writing for fandom, this one lil 800 word Jeankasa one-shot called "Wishing For More" is my Magnum Opus.

This was in the era where the Marley arc was happening in the manga but SNK was on people's mind because S2 and S3 came out. While pics of Reiner looking depressed/hot and Zeke memes dominated most of the fandom, I was in that little subset of people wondering what tf the Island Devils were up to.

And remember, this was months before the reveal of the post-timeskip Scouts so I had no idea what anyone looked like or how the characters changed after 4 years.

I fell into the category of people who believed that Jean and Mikasa became some flavour of lovers at one point or another so that's where Wishing For More came from.

The entire plot is just Jean and Mikasa spending time together in a room at an inn and Mikasa observing the scars he sustained from the Retaking of Shiganshina. I liked the concept of writing characters with various scars back then and I like it now.

At the time I had this whole lil scenario where the Scouts were stationed at an inn for weeks and were just told to be on standby, so unless they were needed they were largely left to their own devices. It lead to me writing a lot about Jean and Mikasa either seeing each other a lot in the hallways of the inn or spending time together in their respective rooms.

All I could assume about Mikasa at that time was that she was wrangling with the mess of emotions that come with realizing your childhood BFFs will succumb to the Curse of Ymir in 8/13 years, as a result she's more on the quiet introspective side bc her thoughts are constantly plagued with what the meaning of life is if it can end so cruelly.

And this was definitely what started me on my "Mikasa deserves to be happy" agenda because post basement reveal I could already anticipate that her life would just get more distressing from that point on.

Is it a surprise that I was compelled to write her finding comfort in the arms of the hot funky horse man? Or write a scenario where she sees the collection of scars on his shoulders and back before gently running her fingers across them? Or have her slowly realize that unlike the resident Titan Shifters, Jean is a normal human who can't heal from traumatic injuries?

Anyways, thanks for the ask bc I've read too much JK hate on twitter and needed a palate cleanser. And also thanks to everyone who kudos'd and commented on the fic over the years. It means a lot to me, especially now since I'm starting to trolling comments on my fics. Y'all are the real MVPs.

[what2watch2night]

Watch To Watch Tonight: 2022 Movie Year Recap

Another movie year ended, all the awards possible big and small have now been bestowed, most have now been made available to all democratically and most have been watched! Even though there is still soooooo much from 2022 to catch up on or sadly unreleased or not made avail to the masses (like that underwater movie we won't mention...) But we all know a lifetime will never be enough to go through years' past watchlists, and we must accept it and move on to the next one as sadly we cannot live in a EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE multiverse where one would be able to do it all at once. So in that spirit let's take one last look at what made us want to live to see it, and that we won't forget because, as the Best Movie Quote of Movie Year 2022 (from THE FABELMAN) says: 'Movies are dreams that you never forget...'

And we sure won't forget these from another interesting 12 months that brought us a truly varied array of films, and although we might not have many “perfect” ones reaching perfect notes (well, nothing reached 9/10 or ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ for us this year,) it was satisfying, entertaining, and there was something for all the feels and emotions.

GREAT STORIES & GREAT FILMS

T’was a good time for wildly imaginative, to just wild and crazy stories from EEAAO to RRR to NOPE, APOLLO 10/2 or EO to even the quieter but less “bonkerz “ BANSHEES (what was it this year with fingers and donkey - definitely the “goat” of this year animal on film!) and the bold BABYLON or BARDO Then we also have our favorite with the “Eat the rich “ and “Let’s Revolt” varieties that NEVER.DISAPPOINT (We live for that sh!t!) with of course TRIANGLE OF SADNESS (that gave us great pleasure with the “I am the captain now” twist), the hit THE MENU, intense ATHENA, weirdos like FLUX GOURMET, MARCEL THE SHELL, WHITE NOISE… Anyway here are the movies that made our days/nights in 2022:

OuR Top Fave:

EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE 8.5⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐✨ *Bonus Most Every Everywhere All At Once Scenes! (And fight scenes no doubts) TRIANGLE OF SADNESS 8.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐✨ *Bonus Most Memorable Scene!

APOLLO 10 1⁄2 8.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Most Nostalgia Inducing!

BABYLON 8.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Best Party and Movie-within-a-Movie Scenes! ATHENA 8 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Best Crowd, moving, and Longtake Scene! BROKER 8 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

BARDO 8.25 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Best Dreams & Dreamy Scenes! BANSHEES OF INISHERIN 8⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Most Hilarious Dialogue! WHITE NOISE 7.75 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus End Scene! NOPE 7.75 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

TAR 7.75 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

BOY FROM HEAVEN 7.75 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

ELVIS 7.75 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Music Scene! THE MENU 7.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

AFTER YANG 7.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Best Dance Scene! MEN 7.75 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Most WTF Haunting SceneS! ARMAGEDDON TIMES 7.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ EO 7.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus non-human actor! DECISION TO LEAVE 7.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐

RRR 7.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐ *Bonus Best Genre Switch, Crowd pleaser, & Suspension of disbelief!

We could provide a much much longer list of films from 2022 definitely worth a watch but because frankly no one has time for that with the amount of new films coming at us everywhere here is the next 20 to 100 IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER. Enjoy!

MEMORABLE ENSEMBLES There is very little doubt again that this prize should go to either EEAAO or TRIANGLE OF SADNESS. But here are 20 spectacular ensembles from 2022 movie year!

ARGENTINA 1985 ATHENA BABYLON BANSHEES OF INESHERIN BARDO BOY FROM HEAVEN BROKER EEAAO EO KLONDIKE MARS ONE PLAN 75 THE MENU THE SWIMMERS THE WHALE THE WONDER TRIANGLE OF SADNESS WAKANDA FOREVER WOMAN KING WOMEN TALKING

**Bonus: Kid actors ensemble blowing your mind 13TH LIVES AFTER YANG ALCARRAS ARMAGEDDON TIMES BLAZE CLOSE PLAYGROUND PUSSY / SOFT SCARBOROUGH THE SILENT TWIN TILL ​​TORI AND LOKITA

MEMORABLE INDIVIDUAL PERFORMANCES Well, Yeoh was the GOAT, De Leon was MVP, but if there is one that shine brighter than most and got snubbed it was Mia Goth because; because after all she is a star (PLEASE she is a starrrr!)

Adèle Exarchopoulos ZERO FUCK GIVEN Ana de Armas BLONDE Angela Bassett WAKANDA FOREVER Aubrey Plaza EMILY AND THE CRIMINAL Austin Butler ELVIS Bill Nighy LIVING Cate Blanchett TAR Colin Farrell / Brendan Gleeson BANSHEES Danielle Deadwyler TILL Dolly De Leon TRIANGLE OF SADNESS Eddie Redmayne THE GOOD NURSE Hong Chau THE WHALE John Boyega / Michael K. Williams 892 Keke Palmer NOPE Mia Goth PEARL/X Michelle Yeoh / Ke Huy Quan EEAAO Ram Charan RRR Vicky Krieps CORSAGE Vincent Lindon ANOTHER WORLD *Soooo many more more should did fantastic works from all over the world but we wont name anymore name as this list would be way to long!

STUNNING VISUAL Whether these movies captured the light perfectly, offered us EXTRAVAGANZA with amazing sets and wowing costumes/Hair/Makeup, had us at the edge of our seats due to the immersive action or poetic sequences, or left us emotional staring at gorgeously filmed vistas or simple shots of every day life….

There is no need to explain why EEAAO rules here! Also about snub: ATHENA was the biggest quagmire of this season, snubbed left and right even in France of all places... Sure the story is surfing on LES MISERABLE but it was quite different and the intensity and visual defo hit different too. The techniques (highly recommend watching the BTS) is mind blowing as in Nolan-level of wow every other long takes!

3000 YEARS OF LONGING AFTER YANG ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT ATHENA BABYLON *Yes the party scene but also all other incredible to comprehend scene so left us dreaming like THIS

BARDO *Another maestro directing the hell out of another one, giving us possibly the most immersive oddities of the last season and surreal lyrical contemplations - one of our favorite thing in the whole wide world!

DECISION TO LEAVE DON’T WORRY DARLING EEAAO *They really gave us everything imaginable and we might never see a movie so imaginative visually... ELVIS EO GODLAND MEN *The beautiful imageries one will never forget! NEPTUNE FROST *We are also still here for that keyboard jacket NOPE RRR *The category is: Most Nonsensical Mindblowing Fights! THE NORTHMAN WAKANDA FOREVER *Will always win best costumes AND hair and Make up! WHITE NOISE *Props to the props and all those sets leading to that gran finale! WOMEN KING

**Here are other movies worthy for their look (but don’t be fooled, most of these have equally share, if not more, of substance… ) 13TH LIVES AMSTERDAM APOLLO 10 ½ BANSHEES OF INESHERIN BIG BUG BLAZE BLONDE ENTERGALACTIC INU-HO KADAISI VIVASAYI LEONOR WILL NEVER DIE MAD GOD MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON MATILDA THE MUSICAL NOTRE DAME BRULE PACIFICTION PEARL / X PINOCCHIO PREY SOMETHING IN THE DIRT TALE OF KING CRAB TED K THE BATMAN THE ETERNAL DAUGHTER THE HOUSE THE SILENT TWINS TOP GUN 2 TRIANGLE OF SADNESS TURNING RED UTAMA YOU WON'T BE ALONE

STIRRING SOUND It seems scores and OSTs were probably not as transcending as we would have liked in, but the Soundscape really outdid itself lately! Not sure if it is the advantage of watching almost everything at home with better sound in headsets that really let you drown in the sound. (and the non-annoyance of Cinema popcorn noise and often not optimal sound...) But no complaint on top of composers and supervisors giving us the right tunes at the right time conveying the right vibes, praises are seriously due to all that enhances things for our auditory pleasure from mixers to foley to engineer to musicians...

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT (*How fitting that the first movie alphabetically is the one with thhose dread-inducing 3 notes! Most Memorable Notes of Movie Year 2022) APOLLO 10 1⁄2 ATHENA BABYLON BANSHEES OF INESHERIN BARDO BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER BLONDE ELVIS EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE INU-HO LIVING MEN PACIFICTION RRR TAR TED K THE STRANGER THE STRANGER WHITE NOISE

Bonus: Great Music Doc YOU'RE WATCHING VIDEO MUSIC BOX MOONAGE DAYDREAM

[angel-is-not-creative]

Evangelion part 2

SUB/DUB

⭐⭐⭐⭐+1/2

I actually want to start this off with a quote that I think is relevant to the discussion we had on Monday.

In many parts of the world, war is a game in which the individual can win counters-counters which bring him prestige in the eyes of his own sex or of the opposite sex... The tie-up between proving oneself a man and proving this by a success in organized killing is due to a definition which many societies have made of manliness. Warfare is just an invention known to the majority of human societies by which they permit their young men either to accumulate prestige or avenge their honor or acquire loot or wives or slaves or sago lands or cattle or appease the blood lust of their gods or the restless souls of the recently dead.

We have begun to tie masculinity, violence, war together, which only leads to more dangerous men and a more dangerous world.

Shinji my poor poor boy, I'm not usually one for sympathizing with male characters (/j) but wow some of his lines just straight-up hurt. His being so happy to have been praised by his father was so heartbreaking.

It becomes clear in episode 16 that the adults are not all that worried about making sure Shinji makes it out of any situation alive, but rather that the Eva is rescued. They place the robots over the life of a human that is doing the killing for them. Despite being let down by many people in his life, Shinji continues to take the blame for everything.

The only person who is willing to protect him is his mother through the form of the Eva, she cannot protect him herself as she has been killed by her father (again showing the damage he has done to Shinji) but she can still protect Shinji as he is ultimately still innocent.

I find Asuka to be a little more relatable personally and her story is heartbreaking in every way. Having been abandoned by her parents, she doesn't feel like she can rely on anyone. So she has to be the smartest and the strongest so she never has to depend on anyone to save her, she can always save herself. She has been placing her value as a human in her ability to pilot Eva, which is why it hurts so bad when Shinji

(why do I have to suffer through this just because I'm a girl, it's not like I want children anyway... how did the Evangelion writers crawl into my head?)

Okay on to the gays!! (I'm starting to think Greg Ayres only knows how to voice gay icons). I can't imagine the pain Shinji felt in episode 24. He is has been bonded and hurt by the people who were supposed to love him, and now there is one person who claims to love him as he is but he has to kill him. He feels so hurt by the betrayal at first because it was another person who was supposed to love him and lied. Yet it wasn't really a lie, Kaworu does love Shinji, he represents a part of humanity that Kaworu cannot understand, it is something he wants to save, so he sacrifices himself for Shinji (something his father would certainly never do).

and now the confusing ending. The episodes starts with a really existential moment from Shinji where it seems they are all considering combining into one person. Shinji wonders who he would be without Eva, what truly makes him different from the people around him, and what his place in the world really is. Once he accepts that he could love himself and that his life is worth living as is, he is met with every important person in his life clapping (and then everyone clapped). I assume this was all some kind of test to get Shinji to find some self-worth and place his trust in others.

I'm gonna go read an explanation post now here is some Asuka content

shes a lesbian i make the rules here

[darrisgrove]

Isaac Asimov's Robot City Odyssey REVIEW

5/5 Stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I think the people with low ratings are missing the part where Isaac Asimov states that this is a project written by different authors inspired by his works. A fanfiction if you will. This is what this book felt like. And I found it actually kind of good.

For a slow paced book there was enough action to keep me hooked and wanting to keep reading, which props to that because I have a terrible time at reading slow paced books. The characters were interesting enough. I cling to the robots so much, they're so fun and each have a noticeable personality. I was genuinely sad when that thing happened with Monitor 5. I wondered what happed to Alpha. I also really liked Wolruf (Rrullf) and Aranimas. The settings the plot takes place in are also interesting and the author, Michael P. Kube-McDowell, does a great job at naturally allowing the reader to explore with the characters.

My only real critiques are around Derec and his character. I found him really annoying for most of the book. He really only became interesting after he met Kate, to which case his entire character does a 180 and is suddenly a different person. It wasn't a natural change, but I didn't hate it. I think Derec needed to have his whole character changed, because I found his attitude towards certain characters to be painfully annoying and uncalled for.

Here are my notes during reading. WARNING: SPOILERS BELOW

-Derec started off an okay character until he was rude to Monitor 5 and Analyst 17 when all they were doing was what they were programmed to do, keep the human alive. -Genuinely sad that Monitor 5 didn't make it. -Aranimas is a better character than Derec, even though he's the Raider Leader and tortured Derec. -"Eat space and die" would have been a great quote if it weren't for the context of the situation that ruined it. Rrullf is just doing her job, man. -To further that point, Derec changed the name of Rrullf's name to Wolruf. He didn't even TRY to pronounce her name, he just told her what he was going to call her. -If Derec betrays Rrullf I don't know what I'll do, but I will be angry. -Derec can't seem to do anything for himself. -There's a woman involved now. Let's see if he's a suck up. I'm guessing enemies to lovers. -"You woke me up to ask me for my insurance card?" -Self aware foreshadowing? -Why is Derec now considering robots as equals as if he hadn't gone the whole plot not caring if the robots lived or died and only toys to be played with? -Rrullf! I'm so glad to see her! -The author really went and through Derec's "I don't give a shit" personality right out the window the second he brought in the bad bitch Kate. -If their little stunt killed Rrullf I am going to scream. -Rrullf is fine, thank the Gods. -Kathrine and Derec are married (not canon) and Rrullf is their adopted daughter/puppy. -Maybe Monitor 5 gave Derec the key because Monitor 5 knew what it was and what it could do and considering Monitor 5 and Analyst 17 were working so hard to keep Derec safe, Monitor 5 knew the key could do that. Just a thought, DEREC.

[lclunastar]

💌💗⭐✨

Cousin: Why are you staring at me? Where are your thoughts?

Meh: I just noticed that your daughter was given a ferrari but she isn't allowed to drive it until she's 18, according to the law of her country.

She: Mhmm?

Meh: Was questioning that my parents could afford one semi like that, and they always complained that i was late for events, although they knew it wasn't my fault if the bus was late at that time, now all is more modern with Uber or Bolt, of course. But they never gifted me even a beetle? it seemed weird to me, and i wondered why?

She: You never know?

Hears a noise, then when turns around sees a huge bag falling from the top of the shelf.

She: What's that?

Meh: I was sitting here drinking my iced tea avoiding the cleaning of mom's stuffs that i have yet to separate.

But maybe in a cosmical way she's trying to tell me that i should go on with it.

She: Tells you stop complaining already, and clean up.

Meh: Haha.

Minutes later..

Meh: Uuuuuh❕

She: What is it?

Meh: I didn't know she had a diary?

Opens it, a letter.

Here it is.

She: I don't get it?

Meh: She told me that the father told her while confessing, to write a letter with her heart's desires in paper, she asked me if i wanted to read it, that it could be ostentatious, perhaps.

And i told her no, that it was supposed to be a private moment of hers and that maybe i would see it other day.

She: This was the month she left, and the month of your birthday, maybe you should give yourself permission to want to know her a bit more.

Meh: Takes it outside and begins to read.

Mum:

I'm saving for a car for my daughter.

Meh: *I smile.*

She: Those were 37,000,000 of your dad plus your mom's 22,000,000, you could give yourself one of 25,000,000 what did you do with them?

Meh: I spent it all on animal shelters.

She: All of it?

Meh: I didn't wanted the money from cancer medicine to go to waste, then i used it on purina plus remedies for pets.

I didn't keep a penny.

My kitten let me know about the intruders in my house, she saved me. I feel indebted to them. I would do it back, if given the chance.

Now i rent her house, and i continue to give it to them.

She: Nobody's fault. A bit of a lack of communication. You are a beautiful human. Yeah, you're right. She found a way to respond to your doubt faster.

Meh: I will keep this letter and absurd situation as a pretty memory.

We go downstairs laughing to have dinner with the fam who are visiting.

📖🔖✨

[tigger8900]

The Seep, by Chana Porter

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 1/2

When the alien invasion comes, it's not with threats or a show of force. Rather, the Seep infiltrates with a simple promise: to make us, and everything else, better. And it keeps its promise, guiding humanity to a state of blissful co-existence and unprecedented peace. And yet, Trina is unhappy. Her wife has chosen to be reborn through the power of the Seep, ending their marriage and leaving Trina behind. As she spirals into grief, Trina will have to confront the Seep's potential — and danger — if she has any hope of finding a place for herself in this new world.

This book was incredible. I can't think of any other piece of media I've consumed that has featured a middle-aged trans women who isn't particularly femme as the protagonist, so that alone was unique. I also enjoyed the take on a utopia, where you can see how much better things are while at the same time spotting the cracks where maybe there's something less-than-perfect under the surface. Yet there isn't some grand conspiracy to uncover. This isn't the story of how the alien invaders were unmasked and repelled. The utopia is presented as a good thing, probably(though, like all good speculative fiction, it does leave you wondering a little).

Rather, this is a story that deals primarily with grief, as we follow Trina mourning not just the loss of her wife but also that of the world she remembers. She rejects the Seep, choosing to do things the old way whenever possible, a perspective that leaves her unable to cope when confronted with new views on death and rebirth. Her devotion to the old ways is ultimately so destructive that it puts her own health at risk, an apt metaphor for what humanity is doing to our planet and each other with the way we live. It's a sad story, but beautiful as well.

The one thing I thought was a little odd was how Trina's heritage was handled. She's half Jewish and half Native American. My apologies, if the nation was specified I've forgotten it and can't locate it now. While her Jewishness is reflected upon somewhat in the narrative, her Native American heritage didn't seem to be explored to any degree beyond her name: Trina FastHorse Goldberg-Oneka. Now, I'm not trying to say that a character's heritage has to be important to the plot. Of course they can just be Jewish, or Chinese, or Ojibwe, or whatever. What stood out to me here was the lopsidedness of it, where one half of her identity was recognized in the story while the other was kind of just…there. Perhaps this is a fault of the reader, that I didn't know enough to recognize the moments when it was made relevant. It's very possible. Feel free to @ me, if so.

[seanmonstar]

hyper-ish 2022 in review

Quite the eventful year! With 2022 over1, I want to take some time highlight what's happened in hyper and the immediately surrounding landscape.

A quick personal note, I wrote much more this year!2 Yay!

hyper

Let's start with some general things about hyper.

On the human side, there were 62 unique contributors to hyper in 2022. We added 1 more collaborator and 2 triagers, and even defined what those roles even mean.

In an effort to share the lovely work those humans do, I started writing monthly hyper updates.

And we celebrated 10 thousand stars this year! ⭐

hyper 1.0

As I mentioned in last year's review, 2022 was the year we began to prepare to release a stable 1.0 of hyper.

We started with a v1.0 timeline (of which we're in the final steps). After much discussion with users, we put into writing hyper's VISION, which defined where we were going. Shortly aftewards came the v1.0 ROADMAP, outlining how to get there.

And then, a summer flurry of coding and hairy diffs.

On the other side, late last year, we published v1.0.0-rc.1. This represented the likely working library that we'd like set down into a stable parking spot for a while. While people check it out and give us feedback, we entered the hyper polish period, making sure everything feels good. That's where we still are, for a short period more.

You can follow along on the project board, and specifically the 1.0 meta issue ties together non-issue related details.

hyper in curl

The work to make hyper an HTTP backend in curl from last year continued throughout this year. There's just a few remaining tests in curl's large HTTP suite that didn't work when hyper is enabled. Several wonderful people showed up to dig in and find out exactly why.

To try to empower others to do, I wrote up a help-us-finish guide, explaining step-by-step how anyone could help us finish this all-important work. Later in the year, I streamed a hyper-in-curl debug session, where you could watch me follow the guide, and then bash the keyboard randomly while trying to understand what the issue is. You can still watch the recording, or see these details about what test was solved and the pull requests that came out of it.

I also joined Daniel Stenberg virtually by presenting about hyper in curl at curl-up 2022.

h3

We've been working on the h3 crate, providing HTTP/3 that is generic over any QUIC implementation, with the goal of integrating into hyper directly. The repository has had a working server and client which already interoperates with other implementations.

I've written about it in the monthly updates, but here's some highlights I'm excited about:

We added 3 new collaborators who have been driving the work: @eagr, @g2p, and @Ruben2424.

@stammw implemented graceful shutdown for the server and the client.

@Ruben2424 added GREASE support via an default-on option which sends random reserved identifiers, such as frames, settings and streams, to help prevent ossification that would make future extensions harder.

@eagr made it so we now track compliance with the HTTP/3 specifications, by using special comments that are compared with the spec text, and it even outputs a report updated as part of our continuous integration.

@Ruben2424 also added h3spec to CI, and fixed the missing pieces it noticed.

@g2p documented the entire API.

While there's still specific work that can be done on the h3 crate itself, it's time to consider next steps to get it into user hands. To that end, there's even a pull request for reqwest to use h3! There's just some details to work out around publishing unstable versions so reqwest can depend on it. We hope this experimental support will help us iron out any usage annoyances, so we can start landing it in hyper proper.

tower

While tower isn't tied to hyper, we've always meant for people to easily combine the two libraries to make powerful, opinionated HTTP stacks.

In the later half of the year, we started having discussions about making tower easier. Up until now, it has mostly felt like expert mode. But if done right, we shouldn't be telling users "no, you don't hold it that way" when they try to implement retries slightly wrong and storm their servers. So, to that end, Lucio put together a big issue outlining how we can make retries better.

Another discussion started about the path to tower 1.0. This brought some interesting questions around how Service handles backpressure, whether we could make that any better. Certainly, something else we would want to consider is if Service can make use of async fn in traits.

The tower-http repository continued to see additions. Mostly middleware that are specific to HTTP that many people would find beneficial, such as RequestBodyLimit, RequestBodyTimeout, ResponseBodyTimeout, and ValidateRequest.

I've also kicked around the idea loosely about cracking open the reqwest crate, and turning its various features into tower middleware. Then, reqwest is just a single opinionated way to build up a client stack. The community would be more empowered to customize the order of layers, adding or removing or swapping, and still have the power that they come to expect from using reqwest.

What are some possiblities in 2023?

Besides launch hyper 1.0, of course.

These are are all things that many people have asked for, and I'd like to see done. But realistically, most will require help from you!

Improved middleware

HTTP/3 in hyper

Tracing and Metrics

h2 performance improvements

An even-lower level http1 codec crate

Tower-ify reqwest

I'll likely be focused at the top of that list, but would welcome anyone interested jumping into an issue (or discussing on Discord if you prefer). Really, the biggest success would be empowering others to be the leaders and owners on these things. Do you want to be one of them?

Sorry for the delay, illness struck right at the beginning of the year. ↩︎

I wrote barely anything in 2021, 2020... actually for quite a few years. I used to blog multiple times a month back in 2013, but kind of teetered off the following year. Anyways, I'm really liking it (again), so here's to more! ↩︎

[tinyhistory]

Hiya, I've been feeling quite low and alone for a while now with everything going on in the world, but Astra Inclinant brought me some comfort and much-needed human warmth - THANK YOU for sharing your writing with us! I also wondered how you think of such rich, alive dialogue for your characters - I find that I really struggle to make characters talk in my writing. When I want characters to interact my mind is sometimes just blank. Any advice? Thank you ⭐

This has taken me forever to answer, so thank you for being so endlessly patient. I hope your mood has improved since you wrote this, and things are a little better for you.

This ask actually made me think pretty hard about my dialogue and how I set about writing it. I always visualise my dialogue as I write it. I visualise how the characters move, gesture, express themselves, and react. I picture it like it’s a scene from a movie.

1. Focus on everything except the dialogue.

So when I write my dialogue, I actually try to use as little dialogue as possible, because the real conversation is happening elsewhere. It’s happening in the tilt of the head, the shrug of the shoulder, the pacing across the room. I notice that sometimes we writers have a tendency to over-explain things in dialogue, for example:

“Do you miss me when I’m not here?” she asked, desperate to know the answer. “Tell me. I need to know. You act like you don’t even notice I’m gone. You never reply to my letters. You don’t ever write to me. Sometimes I feel like I’m nothing to you.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, and then said with sudden intensity, “Of course you’re not nothing to me. I just…” He exhaled loudly. “I don’t know. Come on, this is complicated. We’re complicated.”

This is a lot of telling and not much showing. I’d take all the explanations out of the dialogue and write this instead:

She shivered against the cold, thin night air. Out here, the stars looked like broken glass. Clear and sharp and glittering in the dark.

“Do you miss me?” she asked without looking away from the stars. She kept staring upwards. Looking for a star to wish upon.

He was silent for so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he looked up at the stars too, tilting his head back, his breath rushing out silver in the crisp air. “Sometimes,” he said.

These are actually both around the same length, but the first has one conversation (verbal) and the other has two conversations (verbal and non-verbal). When writing your dialogue, think about the “silent conversation” — the dialogue hidden in a cough, a sigh, or a simple exhale. If you want a fun challenge, try rewriting your dialogue with as little conversation as possible.

2. Tailor it to your characters

This goes for both verbal and non-verbal dialogue. Don’t just have a character fidget — have them repeatedly smooth an already-perfect collar, or nervously tug on an expensive earring, or bite their nails. Each of these fidgets tells the reader something different about each character. She fidgeted with her hands could be any character. She found a loose thread on her sleeve and wound it around her finger until it hurt is so much more specific and character-building.

For tailoring verbal dialogue, think hard about how your character reacts. Does their anger run hot and quick? Do they raise their voice and interrupt a lot? Or is their anger cold and glacial? Do they get icy and monosyllabic until they’re silent in their rage?

How do they express affection? In confessions of love or affection, this is often where I see OOC issues pop up because writers will have a reserved or emotionally stunted character suddenly deliver a passionate confession or make a grand romantic gesture. I can see the reasoning behind it (“Character A loves Character B so much they’re willing to bare their soul/show their true feelings”) but it can come off as just plain OOC. Love can be expressed in lots of different ways, and often it’s done quietly, almost shyly. Don’t be afraid of small or subtle dialogues or actions. If you want another fun challenge, try to write a romantic confession without either character saying the word “love”.

3. Think about using different speech patterns for different settings.

Two best friends having a chat? Try lots of comfortable silences, sentences which don’t need to be finished, and references to private jokes. Two people with a crush on each other? Lots of intense eye contact, using small talk as excuses to linger, and maybe a bit of stammering or vocal sounds (erm, uh, hmm) to show feelings of nervousness. Think about how your character changes their speech patterns according to different situations and different relationships. And don’t be afraid of silence. Silence is so delicious to readers because it lets them put the clues together and work it out themselves.

Anyway, hopefully some of this has been helpful, and thank you so much for your lovely ask!

[cakegatedisaster]

Y'all. Just went and watched Secrets of Dumbledore (I know, sue me, don't start shit). And y'all.

Y'ALL.

I DIED. MULTIPLE TIMES.

A fucking MASTERPIECE of a movie! The plot, the writing, the dialogue, the humor, all impeccable!

If you're thinking about watching it, !!go do it now!!

From here on, there will be SPOILERS

.

.

.

First of all, the nostalgia trip this movie provided fed my fucking soul. The music, seeing Hogwarts, seeing Quidditch. Die-hard Harry Potter fans, you will cry at least once (I know I did.)

The characterization was PHENOMENAL. Meet Scamander is a wonderful character and an amazing representation of an introvert that is perfectly capable of surviving in the world. This man didn't have any character development because he didn't NEED any! He was a fully rounded character from the start of the first to the very end. His relationship with creatures vs his relations with other humans let us see how clearly he feels at home surrounded by his beasts and how out of place he tends to feel around humans. His competence is shown, again and again, resulting in some truly hilarious scenes that honestly left me gasping for breath in the theatre. His interactions with his friends and family were some of the sweetest you've ever seen.

Speaking of friends, give it up for everyone's favorite man of the hour: Jacob Kowalski! This man. This sweet, sweet man. He deserves everything and more. He loved Queenie, even with everything that happened. He loved his friends and fought with them, to the point where Dumbledore himself called him a man with a full heart. I would die for this teddy bear of a human.

There is SO MUCH MORE to unpack, but for now, I'll focus on the true MVPs of this movie. Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. These two. My God. Can we get a round of applause for the wonderful Mads Mikelson? This man was truly Johnny Depp's only replacement, and while his absence was felt, Mads did an amazing job as someone who wasn't there from the very start. His chemistry with Jude was something unmatched in any Harry Potter story, movie, or book. The fact that they acknowledged Grindelwald and Dumbledore's very ROMANTIC relationship, leaving absolutely no question, not once not twice but FOUR TIMES, was enough to send tears to my eyes. They very clearly stated that they were in love and planned to run away together, and that is something precious.

These are the bare bones of the movie and if you want to know more, go watch it! It's absolutely worth it and best to see firsthand, surrounded by fellows who scream at the screen as you do.

Overall, a solid 9/10 movie that I will be watching again and again as time goes on.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

The Beast in the Woods

It’s Christmas Eve for both me and my giftee, so here’s my @thewitchersecretsanta Geraskier fic for @dont-touch-the-phlebotinum 💖 I hope you have a wonderful day! Stay safe & happy holidays ⭐

Geralt, finding it too late to head North for the winter, decides to finally take Jaskier up on his offer to attend the Winter Bardic Competition. But when he arrives in Oxenfurt, Jaskier has vanished, and there’s rumours of an awful beast stalking the lands. Geralt must set out to find him - before the flighty bard finds himself in the jaws of a monster.

13k words, contains: Jaskier injury/illness, creature!Jaskier, fairy tale themes, Geralt taking two decades to admit his feelings. Rated T.

Geralt looked down at the body of the werewolf at his feet. At least: it had been a werewolf, moments ago, when he’d driven his sword through its chest. Now, lying on the leaf litter in a spreading pool of blood, the wolfish figure was melding and melting back to what he once was: a man, just a man.

Guilt bit at Geralt. It hadn’t needed to end this way. Lycanthropy could be cured, if you caught it soon enough or the victim was willing. But he’d arrived too late.

The chances of bringing them back, of making them human again, dropped with every kill. Human blood sealed a curse like cement in a wall. After enough of it, the only way to get rid of it was to tear the whole thing down.

People were running from the village. They must have heard the fight: the werewolf had led him away from the forest towards the farms on the edge of the settlement. It was part of the reason why Geralt had been forced to slay the beast rather than save it: he couldn’t risk any more deaths. As the villagers approached, seeing the scene in front of him, there were gasps and shouts and cries - clearly they knew this man.

He was about to sheath his sword and go to find the alderman amongst the huddle of people when there was a cry - a wail. A woman pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes red-rimmed. She spotted the body at his feet, and cried out again.

“You killed him!” She screamed, extracting herself from the others, “You fucking killed him!”

She collapsed next to the prone body, grabbing at the dead man’s shoulders with her hands, sobbing. The man was bloodied and torn, but she didn’t care, blood on her hands.

Geralt didn’t need to watch this. He knew what happened - knew this scene all too well. He turned, but she shouted at him, her voice cracking through the clearing like a whip.

“Witcher!” She looked up at him from the bloodied dirt, spittle flying from her mouth. “Is that it, then? You kill him and you leave?”

Geralt didn’t respond.

“Oh, but you’ll be paid first,” she spat, “I know you take your payment. You’ll leave here with a bag of someone else’s silver. What about us, Witcher? What about the ones you leave behind, the ones who have to put the pieces back together when there's a part missing? What are we paid?”

Geralt gripped tighter on his sword, taking a step back from the corpse at his feet. The woman continued to shout, snot and spit and tears mingling on her face.

“Where’s my payment, Witcher? What will you pay me, for the cost of a life lost? For the life of my husband? Will you pay me in blood? The knowledge that you’ll never know what it’s like, to be a monster—”

“I’m a witcher,” Geralt growled, “You think I don’t—”

“I know you don’t! You don’t know what it’s like to love someone who everyone else thinks is a monster, who people send men like you after!”

“It’s not—”

The woman continued, stepping over the corpse and stalking towards him.

“Maybe I should take the payment of your kind. Your fucking law of surprise. Tell me, Witcher, what do you have that you don’t know you possess?”

“This is over,” said Gerat, turning away, “It’s over. My job is done, here.”

“He was just a man!”

Geralt whirled around. “He killed all those—” He squeezed his eyes shut, gathering himself. It was always like this, one way or another. Always this same. Two evils: greater, lesser. “This conversation is over,” he said, voice terse and clipped.

The woman continued to shout at him - her voice rising to a high pitched scream - but he walked away, sheathing his sword as he went. The alderman would pay him regardless, he knew: always better to be rid of a monster than tolerate one when the wellbeing of hundreds of people fell under your limited power. Her words were just borne of fury and rage and, more than that, the impotence that so many like her felt: powerless to save, powerless to cure, powerless to do anything other than watch and wait for someone else to die.

Geralt had suffered such insults before, such cries. He knew more than most what it was to never leave a job truly finished, for there always to be something left behind. But it was just that: just harsh words, nothing but hot air and venom. He wouldn’t carry those words with him for long - and if they did come back to haunt him, on long lonely nights or midway through a difficult hunt, he’d push them back down.

He was well practiced in ignoring their bile, now.

It was just words, he thought, with a sad shake of his head. Just hot air.

~

There’s a storm crackling through the air above the Oxenfurt Academy of the Arts. It’s unusually warm as the seasons change, summer melding into autumn, and the hair is hot and humid, pressing against the city dwellers and artists like tepid water, filling their lungs and making them sweat. Creativity is near-impossible under such conditions, and the Basement Bar - cool and shadowed beneath one of Oxenfurt’s many brothels - finds itself packed with students keen to escape the heat.

As they drink and gossip and boast, the storm builds outside, and none of them notice. The air is thick and heavy, the clouds low and dark, obscuring the sunset and then curtaining the moon. When the bar closes and the crowd of people finally stumble into the still-warm street outside, it’s pitch black - aside from the flashes of lightning that occasionally light the sky towards the North of the city.

Thunder rumbles above, and the stone buildings shake.

A bard - drunk and happy - stumbles into the room he’s staying in and tosses his blue doublet, brand new with deep green trim on the cuffs and collar, onto the fraying armchair in the corner of the room, quickly followed by his lightweight shirt and his boots.

He falls backwards onto the bed, his messy brown hair sticking in slick strands to his sweaty forehead, and huffs a quick, too-hot drunken breath before struggling out of his trousers, leaving them puddled on the floor next to the bed.

He pulls away the covers - it’s too warm for them, right now - as a flash of lightning illuminates the small room, sending sudden weird shadows dancing on the furniture and his face. The storm must be right above the building, right overhead, teeming and reeling like an ocean trapped above him.

It isn’t raining. He doesn’t even notice. He winces as the lightning flashes and the thunder roars, sending shockwaves through his already pounding head, then collapses down onto the pillow.

He’s still, for a few moments, taking deep breaths as he wills the room to stop spinning around him. After a minute, one of his hands sneaks up the soft cotton sheet and slides beneath the pillow. He searches - grabs - and pulls something out from under it.

Balled up fabric, wrinkled where it’s been tucked so haphazardly beneath the pillow. Fabric that was once black but is now nearly grey through wash and wear. The bard curls his hand around it, rubs his fingers against it. He brings it to his face and inhales - just once - and makes a noise so quiet that it’s drowned out by another crack of thunder as the sky splits above him.

Soon, he falls asleep, and the storm rages on.

~

It was a cool, crisp winter morning as Geralt led Roach carefully through a small, half-frozen stream. She trudged carefully through the water as Geralt walked by her side, leading her on. Her breath fogged the air in hot puffs.

They were heading to Oxenfurt.

No - Geralt reminded himself. They weren’t headed to Oxenfurt. They just happened to be near Oxenfurt, and would be visiting the city while he was following leads about something stalking the nearby countryside.

It was nothing to do, of course, with the winter bardic competition that Jaskier had invited him to every year for the past five years and he had, like clockwork, brushed away with a convenient excuse. Typically, he could say that he was heading North for the winter - returning to Kaer Morehn - but he’d taken too many contracts too far south too late into autumn, and by the time he reached the mountains the way through would be totally frozen.

This year, it was an excuse that brought him to the heavy iron gates of the city: he was in the area anyway. Might as well attend, finally. And Jaskier had always told him that if he ever did choose to remain South for winter that they could ride out the season together, offering him a place to stay and a warm hearth. He mentioned it every year, in fact, since they’d started travelling together.

Geralt doubted that Jaskier truly wanted him around for the full three months of snow and ice and unbearably dark evenings, and suspected that the offer was one given with the understanding that Geralt would always refuse. Now, with fewer contracts and nowhere else to go, he would have to finally take him up on it.

He wouldn’t demand Jaskier’s space, especially not in Oxenfurt where Jaskier’s reputation as a bard outweighed his own as a witcher. He would instead ask if Jaskier knew somewhere he could stay - somewhere cheap, ideally - where he could wait out the worst of the weather until the start of spring.

Geralt hadn’t seen Jaskier since they’d parted ways more than six months ago. When they first began travelling together, they could go a year or longer without seeing each other. Now, six months felt like an oddly silent age. Jaskier would be pleased to see him - especially in attendance at what he had been told was “one of the top six events in the Academy’s calendar!”

And - in truth - he was looking forward to seeing Jaskier too. His thoughts had been dark and cloudy since the disastrous werewolf contract, and the widow’s words still tugged at him. Jaskier, all brightness and laughter and constant chatter, would clear those clouds somewhat. He hated to admit it, but it was good knowing that there was always someone who’d be pleased to see him.

The idea of spending a long winter with Jaskier, sharing stories over hearty meals and strong wine, felt almost as appealing as spending it in the keep with his brothers - but distinct in a way he was trying not to dwell on.

The competition wasn’t for another two days, so he stopped at a village half a day’s ride from the city where he would spend the night, if the innkeep was trusting of his kind, and ask around about the beast. He reminded himself, not for the first time, that the creature and the inevitable contract on its head was the reason why he was there - not for the competition, and certainly not for the flighty bard that was continually occupying his thoughts.

He’d heard the first whisperings that something awful was afield nearly four days ago. It was rare for mere rumours to reach so far, so he’d been immediately intrigued, but the merchant who’d been excitedly talking about a mysterious monster just outside Oxenfurt had been unable to tell him more than a vague story about a shadow in the forest and a couple of dead sheep. As far as he could tell, the so-called monster hadn’t even killed anyone.

It wasn’t much - and usually, Geralt would opt to ignore the story as just another man trying to make himself seem more interesting and get a few free drinks - but there was something about it that made him stop. Geralt had learnt after countless years on the Path to trust his gut instincts, and this story hooked into him like one of Jaskier’s fucking songs. Perhaps there was more to it than just rumour.

The little village he’d chosen to rest in seemed friendly enough, and soon Roach was fed and stabled and he was enjoying a good meal in the tavern, seated at a shadowy corner table. The room was otherwise empty, save for a man leaning against the bar, his head bent low over a bowl of cheap-looking broth. A farmer, judging by the dirt on his hands and the sun-bleached cap he had pulled low over his ears. When Geralt had entered, the man had peered up at him, eyes wide.

The farmer was still hovering by the time Geralt had finished his meal, eyeing him nervously. This wasn’t unusual - many folk were afraid to approach a witcher directly. He returned to the bar, acquired a pint of suspiciously pale ale and turned to the farmer.

“I’ve heard stories that there’s something in the woods nearby,” he said, sipping at his pint and keeping careful eye contact. “Know anything about it?”

The farmer paled as much as the beer.

“Aye,” he said, quietly. “But they’re no stories, witcher. They’re true. There’s something out there.”

“What sort of something?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s big. Real big.”

“I heard there’s been no attacks? No deaths?”

“No human deaths.”

“Meaning?”

“Sheep. A few cattle. Not many. I just… there’s not been a kill in a week or so. But I know there’s something out there. I can’t go looking for it myself, witcher. I can’t leave Anje to look after Miriam alone, and the boys, and the farm...”

“You’re worried it might return?”

“I am. Gods help me, I am. It only took one of our cows, but we can’t afford to lose another. It took a few sheep from Boris, about a mile away, and a couple more from down the road.”

Geralt sipped at the disgusting beer, thinking. The man was desperate - and terrified.

“You actually saw it?”

“I saw something.”

“Describe it.”

“It was on the edge of the forest. I thought it was a shadow, at first, when it moved… huge, it was. Taller than me. Covered in dark fur.”

Geralt frowned. “A werewolf?”

The man shook his head. “Pardon, Witcher, because I’ve not seen a werewolf before, but I’ve seen pictures and… I don’t think it’s a wolf. It’s the wrong shape for a wolf, and there’s been no howling. And…”

“Yes?”

“Well. Werewolves. I’ve heard they leave a… a mess. They destroy the things they kill?”

Geralt thought back to the things he’d found in the wake of his last contract with a werewolf. He nodded, silently.

“This… this one don’t. The stuff that got killed… it was like it took a few bites from them and left them. Not torn to bits like you might expect.”

“Hmm.”

That was strange. The sorts of beasts Geralt hunted weren’t often known for clean kills, especially not things described as huge and hairy.

“Look, sir,” the man reached a hand across the bar, then immediately retracted it. “It’s been a few weeks. We might be safe. And I don’t… I don’t have much to pay you.”

Geralt sighed. He was getting soft.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, gently. “Although it might not be much. I need to move on tomorrow, but I’ll be back in a few days, maybe a week.”

Hopefully with help, he thought. Perhaps the addition of a chatty bard might loosen the lips of some of the other villagers who were too suspicious to talk to a witcher.

The man nodded. “Thank you, witcher,” he said. “Thank you.”

By the time Geralt had left the tavern and bartered a room for the night at the inn next door, it was already growing dark - the winter evening quickly setting in. The village was quiet, so he used the last of the daylight to quickly scout the edge of the forest, a short walk from the last farmhouse.

It was an imposing sight, especially in the dark: the trees tall and closely packed, blocking what little light there was. He stalked the edge, feet crunching through half-frozen leaves, his senses honed. There were the usual signs of life - the droppings of prey animals, the occasional scent rubbed against a tree, the sounds of owls and foxes screaming from the depths of the woods.

But nothing like a monster. He’d been hoping, at least, to find a splash of dried blood - but the most he came across was the remains of a rabbit, clearly the victim of a fox or cat.

Soon, night had truly set in and the moon was a thin sliver in the sky - useless for lighting up the ground around him. He only had a couple of vials of Cat left, and using one now, before he was even sure there was something to hunt, seemed a waste.

Empty handed, and with no more to go on than when he’d left, he returned to the village.

~

Geralt awoke early, before the sun had risen, a thick layer of frost still on the ground. Dawn wouldn’t be for another few hours, but he was keen to arrive in Oxenfurt with enough time to find both somewhere to stay that wasn’t too crowded as well as Jaskier. It was an easy ride, and this early in the morning so deep into winter he was the only one on the road, making quick time with his thick, fur-lined woolen cloak pulled tight around his shoulders.

He soon found himself approaching the Eastern Novigrad Gate, the recognisable structure looming from the early morning fog. The sun was finally up, casting a pale, cool light over the stonework and making the water beneath sparkle.

There was something almost like anxiety squeezing in Geralt’s chest. He thought of Jaskier, no doubt still asleep, almost certainly hungover, sprawled in his bed, totally unaware that Geralt was mere minutes away.

And then another thought. His bed, or someone else’s? Would Geralt’s sudden appearance be seen as an intrusion to Jaskier’s more amorous pursuits in a city filled with lovers and romantics?

An unpleasant little twist of jealousy snaked its way around the anxiety. Geralt pushed it back. Jaskier was allowed to have other… friends.

Dismounting Roach, Geralt led her the rest of the way across the bridge. The guards leant sleepily against the walls, barely registering his approach, and aside from a few suspicious looks he entered without any difficulty.

After booking a room in a cheap inn right on the edge of the town and a quiet stable for Roach, he stashed his swords and the heaviest of his armour inside and headed into the heart of the city, towards the Academy.

Even this early it was bustling with life, and as he approached the Academy he noticed several students glancing at him, hurrying away, sharing whispers behind hands with their friends. This was nothing unusual: people were always pointing at the witcher.

He turned the corner towards the group of buildings that comprised the Academy itself, pushing his way through the growing crowd of busy students. A stage was being erected in the central courtyard, surrounded by people at work - nailing things down, hanging decorations, prancing about on the wooden boards. This was where Jaskier would be, he knew: right in the middle of it all. He approached the group, scanning them.

“Geralt?”

He spun around. There was a young, pretty woman standing behind him with a shock of long, blonde hair and a ridiculous feathered hat. In her hands she held a tangle of red and gold coloured bunting.

“It is Geralt, isn’t it?” She continued.

“I… yes.” Geralt blinked. “How…”

“Oh, Jaskier’s always going on about you. You’re pretty recognisable.” She looked him up and down, and Geralt felt like he was being appraised. “He wasn’t wrong. I was expecting him to be exaggerating, to be honest.”

“Exaggerating wha—”

“Anyway,” she rearranged the bundle in her arms and stuck out a hand. “I’m Priscilla. Wait, shit, no,” she giggled, “Callonetta. Sorry. Still getting used to stage names.”

Geralt shook her hand as she grinned at him.

“So,” she continued before Geralt could say anything, leaning to look behind him, “Where is he?”

Geralt frowned. “Where’s who?”

“Jaskier. We figured he was with you.”

Geralt hesitated.

“I came here looking for him,” he said, slowly. “Thought I’d… surprise him.”

“Shit,” she looked worried, “that’s… we all thought he was with you. Shit.”

“When did you last see him?”

She shook her head. “Early autumn. He was here for a few weeks then he just up and left. I mean, that’s what he usually does, he gets bored and buggers off without any proper goodbyes, but…” she chewed on her lip. “When did you last see him?”

“A while ago. Seven or eight months.”

She looked truly worried, now. “He always comes to the competitions. We thought he was just late because he was off with you, but if not…”

“Maybe he’s just busy,” said Geralt, trying to reassure himself as much as Priscilla. “You know what he’s like, probably fallen in love with someone and gotten distracted.”

She peered at him, and he couldn’t read her expression. “No,” she said, finally, “I don’t think it’s that.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you think… d’you think he’s alright?”

“He’s probably—” Geralt cut himself off before he could finish the lie. “I don’t know.”

Priscilla paled. “Can you find him?”

He didn’t need to be found. Jaskier was perfectly capable of looking after himself. He didn’t need Geralt traipsing after him, worrying about him, getting in his way.

“I can find him,” Geralt said. “Where was the last place he stayed? Maybe I can start there…”

“He’d gotten a room in the Stag,” said Priscilla, “I’ll show you. But he left so long ago, I’m not sure if you’ll find anything…”

The bundle of bunting still gripped in her hands, Priscilla spun around on her heel and began to stalk away. With nothing else to do, Geralt followed.

Fucking bards.

~

The Stag turned out to be a sizable, if slightly out-of-date inn a ten minute walk from the Academy. The small room on the ground floor was mostly full of faded, mismatched furniture along with a creaking bookcase, full of leather-bound works. A long counter ran along one side, behind which was a door leading to a shadowy back room.

“Elisa?” Priscilla leant over the counter, dumping the bunting onto it, calling into the back room. “Hello?”

“Just a minute!”

There was a crash, and then a tall, plump woman appeared from the doorway, her dark hair pulled into a messy top-knot on the top of her head with a cleaning cloth in her hands. She spotted Priscilla and grinned, then her eyes fell on Geralt. She was immediately intrigued, that much was clear, her eyebrows shooting up.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice honeyed, “who’s this, Pris?”

Priscilla placed one elbow on the counter and joined the woman - Elisa - in assessing Geralt. He felt pinned beneath their twin gazes, awkward and out of place.

“This,” said Priscilla, after a suitably long pause, “is Geralt.”

“Good Gods,” Elisa said, eyes going wide, “Geralt? The Geralt? Never thought I’d actually meet you.”

Geralt felt a little odd, being so well-known to all these people.

“I don’t—” He began, but Priscilla cut him off before he could continue.

“The Geralt,” she said with a smile.

“Well,” Elisa breathed in apparent awe, “What can I do for you?”

“It’s Jaskier.” Priscilla leant back, folding her arms across her chest.

“What’s he gotten himself into this time?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t know. We don’t know where he is.”

Elisa frowned, and turned to Geralt. “I thought he’d be back for the competition...”

“So did I,” Priscilla sighed. “We both did.”

“And you’ve not seen him either?”

Geralt shook his head. “No. I think this is the last place he stayed. Did he tell you where he was going? Or did you see anything in his room… maps, plans, even clothes… anything would be useful.”

The jolly smile was gone, and now the woman looked just as worried as Priscilla.

“No, he just paid and left one evening… I thought it was odd, but, ah, you know Jaskier. He’s always off somewhere or other.”

“Odd how?” Asked Geralt, quickly.

“He was acting strange. Quiet. Quiet for Jaskier, anyway.” She started to fiddle with the cloth in her hands. “He didn’t say where he was going. Usually he’s all chatter about where he’s off to next, some adventure… but he just paid and left.”

“Did he take his things with him? All of them?” Geralt swallowed, trying not to give in to the growing fear in his stomach. “His lute?”

“All of them.” Elisa paused, her brows furrowed in thought. “Wait, now, there was one thing. He left something behind. I remember, I got one of the girls to put it aside for when he came back…”

She vanished back through the door. Geralt and Priscilla glanced at each other but said nothing, waiting.

“Ah! Here we are…”

She reappeared, a bundle of black fabric neatly folded in her hands.

“We found this when we were cleaning out the room,” she said, passing the bundle to Geralt. “It was in the bed, under the pillow. He must have forgotten it.”

He took it from her with a frown, then unfurled it.

“A shirt?” Priscilla shrugged. “He’s always leaving stuff like that behind, that’s nothing unusual.”

Geralt swallowed. “This…” Fuck, he didn’t even know these women. “This is my shirt.”

They stared at him, and very quickly he wished he hadn’t said anything. Before either of them could respond, he bundled the shirt into his satchel and took a step back, towards the door.

“I’m going to find him,” he said, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll bring him back here when I do. Is there anyone else who might know where he went?”

Priscilla shrugged. “He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving,” she said, “we just thought he was being impulsive. Like I said, we thought he was with you.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “We were talking about him just last night, saying that he was so late…”

“I will find him,” Geralt said. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, but Priscilla smiled at him, a little sadly.

“I know you will,” she said.

~

Geralt rode back through the city gates and along the eastern bridge. He was thankful that he’d only paid for a night’s lodgings in the inn - it meant that he could afford to lose the coin when he’d returned and told the innkeeper he was leaving right away.

Fuck. He really could have stayed - a single night was unlikely to have made much difference considering no one had seen Jaskier for six weeks or so - but doing so felt wrong. He needed to set out. Jaskier wasn’t in Oxenfurt: that much he knew. So he needed to keep moving.

It was still light, but the darkness was coming on earlier each night and he knew he didn’t have many hours of sunlight left. Even if he was forced to stop somewhere before properly beginning his search, at least he would have started.

Geralt had left Priscilla with a worried smile on her face and the reassurance that he would manage to find Jaskier. He’d probably just gotten lost, or distracted, he said. Perhaps he’d pissed off the wrong people and was waiting for someone to bail him out. There were dozens of ways a man like Jaskier could become waylaid, he said to her, trying to convince them both that Jaskier would be fine.

He had failed to share with Priscilla the awful little thought that had been prickling at him since learning Jaskier was missing. It would only worry her more.

He thought of the rumours of the beast stalking the empty miles around Oxenfurt, and spurred Roach into a canter.

He remembered what the terrified farmer had said in that tiny village outside the city: that the beast hadn’t killed any people, just animals. But would anyone have truly noticed if the creature had killed a stranger that no one expected to be there? A wandering traveller who hadn’t passed through any of the villages could be eaten alive and no one would ever know: especially if the creature had a habit of killing its victims as neatly as the farmer had described.

Geralt’s instincts - honed and poised - had told him there was more to the rumours of a monster outside Oxenfurt than he would usually assume. Perhaps this was why.

The further he travelled, the more convinced he was that the farmer had got it right. Perhaps, bored of waiting and uninspired by the competition, Jaskier had set out alone, looking for adventure. And flippant and flighty and friendly as he was, he could have easily heard the stories of a beast hidden in the woods. It would not have come as a shock to hear he’d gone looking for it himself, just to catch a glimpse.

At the crossroads before the village, Geralt stopped. He was struck with the image - sudden and viscerally real - of Jaskier, head in the clouds and lute strapped to his back, being hunted down by something large and wild and deadly.

He reached into his satchel, fingers grasping around the shirt that Jaskier had left behind. He pulled it out and looked at it, twisting the thin, wrinkled fabric around his gloved hand. And then - in a movement more unconscious than deliberate - he lifted the shirt to his face, inhaling its scent.

It hit him like a punch, winding him. It had been seven months since he’d last seen Jaskier, but that smell - so utterly him - made it feel like he was right there beside him, singing away, strumming at that infernal lute.

Geralt shoved the shirt back into the bag and veered left, heading towards the wood, ignoring the darkness growing around him.

~

There was something unsettling about the forest - the closeness of the trees, the broadness of their trunks. Travelling deeper into it felt like sinking underwater, silence closing in around him. The sinking sun, which had been threatening to blind him before, was almost completely blocked by the thick canopy of leaves.

He moved slowly, riding Roach and then dismounting to better guide her over fallen branches and hidden roots. As he slid from her back, he unsheathed his sword. It was easy to believe that there really was something hiding here, lurking in the dark.

There were no paths here, no well-worn trails, not even those left behind by animals. He slid between branches, in and out of shadows, around entire toppled trees and ponds masked with fallen leaves. With no clear scent to follow or traces to track, Geralt was following instinct alone. He walked for hours, quickly losing track of both direction and time. He should have rested, he knew, at least to meditate for a while, but urgency spurred him on.

He couldn’t stop. Not yet. He’d rather walk all night through this cursed forest than stop.

So walk all night he did.

Instinct led him to a clearing, swathed in darkness. The trees were sparser, here, the ground moist beneath his feet. Perhaps he’d finally reached the edge of the forest. He headed forwards, hoping there might be something beyond the thicket of trees, any kind of indication of the creature he was looking for.

The light, little that it was now the moon had hidden, grew steadily, and soon Geralt found himself stepping from the treeline into an enormous clearing. And at the very edge of the clearing, partly obscured by trees and sprawling, creeping vines, were the remains of a partially destroyed castle.

The structure jutted weirdly from the ground like broken bones. The centre of the castle was largely intact, but the paired towers flanking it had tumbled, the enormous stones cracked and faded where they lodged in the soft earth like gravestones.

In front of the building was a stone courtyard, weeds and bushes and even small trees forcing themselves through the cracks in the bricks, leading to a wide door.

Geralt suppressed the shudder that ran down his back. If there was something hiding in the woods, this was where it would be: of that much he was sure.

The space around the ruins was wide and empty, and Geralt knew he should take the opportunity to rest and eat before exploring the castle itself. He left Roach stamping nervously beneath a tree on the edge of the clearing, then began to search through her saddlebags for food, the sword still held in one hand.

Something moved in the trees to his left. Quick, four-legged - darting between shadows. Then again, behind him. He spun around, sword raised, ready to strike.

A low growl came from the woods beside him.

The wolf was quick, but Geralt was quicker. It leapt, jaw snapping, and Geralt swiftly side-stepped out of the way, bringing down the hilt of his sword against its body as he did. The wolf was thrown off balance, skidding across the ground, before leaping back to its feet.

Geralt danced towards the centre of the clearing as the wolf advanced once more, the cloak still fastened around his neck swirling as he did. Roach squealed and Geralt spun to see a further four of the huge animals creep from the trees. They were enormous: larger than the wolves he typically dealt with, their fur tangled and matted, teeth dripping with saliva.

Ghouls and kikimores and drowners were nothing compared to a starving, desperate wolfpack. There would be more hidden out there, of that he could be certain, and as soon as these few had the advantage over him the rest would advance for a quicker, easier kill.

The nearest one snapped at him, then jumped forwards. He took a quick swipe with his sword, taking a step back, then hit back with a blast of Aard. Two of the wolves got caught in the shockwave, staggering backwards with twin barks, but the remaining three began to circle, cutting off any chance of escape, trapping him between them.

There was a howl in the forest, far too close for comfort.

And the wolves attacked.

It was a blur of fur and fangs and steel. Geralt doged and rolled, skidding across the wet ground, ducking away from deadly teeth and dirt-clogged claws. It was near-impossible to land a blow when he was being attacked from so many directions, only able to jump out of the way and block where he could. He managed a few quick catches - the steel swiping shallowly through fur - but nothing that would bring the beasts down.

Shit. He was outnumbered and exhausted. He spun, arm aching, and caught the nearest wolf across its back. With an anguished howl it dropped, but there wasn’t time to rest as another took a leap at him.

He swung at that, too, but his aim was wide and the wolf crashed into his chest, throwing him to the ground. As he fell, his sword spun from his hand, and the wolf pinned him to the mud, its snarling maw inches from his face. Geralt struggled, trying to push it off, but the beast was too heavy.

The wolf’s breath stank, made even more noxious by Geralt’s heightened senses. He shifted beneath its weight, and the wolf took the opportunity, suddenly jerking down, its teeth slipping towards his neck.

And then it was gone, pulled away with a sharp yelp.

Geralt rolled over and scrambled to his feet just in time to see -

Fuck.

The creature was real.

The wolf looked tiny in the jaws of the beast that tossed it aside like it weighed nothing at all. It was a good three foot taller than Geralt and twice as broad, covered in coarse, dark brown hair. The body was bear-like, huge and powerful, with a jaw and snout more reminiscent of a wolf. Its huge arms ended in long, lethal-looking claws.

Its eyes were blue.

Geralt had never seen a creature like this with such blue eyes before.

But the monster was distracted - more interested in the wolves than Geralt - rushing quickly at the next animal to throw itself at them. Geralt pirouetted out of the way as the creature met the wolf head-on, grabbing it in its claws as the wolf dug its teeth into its neck. Geralt took the opportunity and shot an Igni fireball towards two of the approaching wolves, sending them skittering back. He ran forwards, determined to either kill them or force them to flee, firing another flash of Igni towards them.

They howled, the smell of scorched fur filling the clearing, turned tail and ran back into the forest.

Geralt took a moment to catch his breath, turning just in time to see the creature pull the wolf from around its neck, dropping it to the floor. The wolf twitched, twice, then stilled. The beast twisted to face Geralt, blood on its snout, its eyes flashing. Geralt’s fingers squeezed the hilt of his sword, ready to fight again.

The creature took a step forward. Geralt reacted instinctively, darting out with his sword, bringing it down in a wide arc as high as he could reach on the towering beast.

But instead of attacking, or even countering the blow, the creature fell backwards, stumbling over its own too-large feet with a roar.

“No!”

It was more of a bark than a word - a growling, shuddering sound that exploded from its throat. Geralt hesitated. He could have just imagined it, fear and exhaustion clouding his reason. He kept his hand wrapped around his sword and took another step forward.

“Geralt!”

That was unmistakable. He lowered his sword.

It really was like nothing he’d ever seen before. The farmer had been correct: it was no werewolf, that he could be sure of. Geralt had spent years studying creatures in the library of Kaer Morhen, and even longer encountering them on the Path, but this was something new. Something different.

The inky blackness of the night sky was fading, turning purple as the sun finally began to rise. The creature - part wolf, part bear - staggered back up to its feet, looking over Geralt’s head towards the smudge of colour streaking above the trees.

And then a single streak of bright, early morning sunlight burst over the canopy.

The creature growled. The growl became a choke - a cough - and then the fur began to slough away, like it was being washed away by invisible rain. It dropped to its knees with a shudder, the snout shrinking, the claws retracting slowly back into the paws. Paws which were quickly becoming hands.

Its face was changing shape, nose shrinking, the eyes sliding into place - and even before the transformation was truly complete Geralt knew, knew the face that he’d come to recognise as much as any of his brothers’ faces, as much as his own.

Jaskier.

With a rattling gasp, Jaskier slumped forwards, his hands lunging out and digging into the mud. The last of the dark fur fell from his shoulders and he looked up, a dazzling ray of dawn sunlight splashing across his face.

He looked awful. His face was thin, with huge, dark circles beneath his eyes. His hair was unkempt and sneaking past his ears, his chest skinny. There were puncture marks in his neck where the wolf had attacked him, little trickles of blood edging towards his clavicle.

Geralt could see his ribs.

Unthinking, he fell to his knees, unclasping the cloak and sweeping it over Jaskier’s shoulders in a single, swift movement.

“Jaskier,” he breathed, tugging the thick fabric around Jaskier’s naked form, “What happened to you?”

Jaskier coughed, shuddering beneath Geralt’s hands. He smiled, showing off bloodied teeth.

“I don’t know.”

~

Geralt poked at the fire roaring in the huge, dusty hearth. He’d scraped away Jaskier’s previous, rather pitiful attempts and with an armful of dried logs and a powerful burst of Igni he had soon managed to get a real fire going.

Jaskier shuddered, pulling Geralt’s cape closer. He’d dressed quickly when they’d entered the room from a heap of worn clothes - but had kept the cloak on, wrapped around himself like a blanket. Geralt didn’t ask for it back.

The huge room that Jaskier had made his hiding space had once been a dining hall, or perhaps a ballroom. The ceilings were high, the walls coated in flaking paint. Along one wall were several tall, thin windows, through which Geralt could see the trees and the bright morning sun. The drapes which had clearly once hung there had been torn down, and were now piled in a kind of nest in front of the fireplace, along with perhaps half a dozen old, moth-eaten blankets and sheets.

This was where Jaskier had been sleeping. He’d let himself fall back onto the soft pile as soon as Geralt had gotten him back inside, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

As the fire warmed him, colour started to return to his face, and he let go a little of the cloak, his fingers twitching and fiddling with the furry edge. The bite marks on his neck had stopped bleeding, the skin around them purpling with a quickly-spreading bruise. The creature was clearly more sturdy than Jaskier was.

“Jaskier…” He reached out, then suddenly thought better, letting his hand drop uselessly to his side. “What happened?”

Jaskier peered at him, and again Geralt was struck by how sick he looked.

“Nothing,” he said, finally. “At least… I did nothing. Geralt, you know me. If I’d brought this upon myself I’d tell you…” He sighed. “It just… it just happened. The last time I’d been near a magic user was the last time I saw you.”

“When was the first time?”

He shrugged. “Weeks ago. Two months, longer. Autumn. The first time was a full moon. I thought…” he laughed, the sound hollow, echoing from his chest, “I thought I was turning into a werewolf. It was just one night. I was so scared, Geralt, I ran… I woke up in an empty warehouse near the docks. I was so worried I’d killed someone… I ran, naked, back to the Academy and spent the whole day asking around - if anyone had heard about any attacks, any accidents. But nothing.”

Geralt watched him, staying silent, letting him speak.

“And then the next time it happened two days before the full moon,” he continued, “and it lasted till two days after. By then, I’d left Oxenfurt. I couldn’t bear the thought of…” he swallowed, gripping the blanket tighter. “I stayed away from villages or towns. Kept to woods, forests. I was like that for five nights, but it was only at night. I had to steal clothes that people had hung out to dry, Geralt, just so I could beg for food in a tavern.”

“It was the fifth day that I found this place,” he gestured up at the high stone walls. “Someone in one of the villages mentioned it offhandedly, and I thought it might be safe. Safe for me, safe for everyone else.”

“But then it got worse. It wasn’t just the full moon, it was every night, as soon as the moon was up. Then it was when the stars were out. As soon as it was dark. Twilight. Dusk. Suddenly I was more it than me. At one point I thought of coming to find you, I thought you might know what I was… but it was too dangerous. And, gods,” he ran his hand through the tangled nest that his hair had become, “I didn’t know where you fucking were. By the time I found you, it could have been…”

He drooped his shoulders.

“Could have been what?”

Jaskier’s chin crinkled, his lips twitching. His eyes, already red, shone with tears.

“Too late,” he said, voice cracking.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Geralt. It’s not just the changing. It’s not just becoming a monster as soon as the fucking sun sets. It’s…” He sighed, the breath wheezing from his chest. “The first time, it felt…ah, Geralt, I felt strong. Like I was energy and muscle and power. I thought - Gods - I wondered if it was how you felt. But every time it’s less. Transforming hurts, and turning back hurts, and it was only a few weeks until all that power was gone. It’s exhausting. I’m so fucking tired, Geralt. And not just when I’m it, when I’m human too. I can barely leave this room.” He finished, quietly.

Geralt resisted the urge to simply pull Jaskier into his arms, to hold him. He seemed so much more fragile than the last time they’d been together: not just because he was clearly sick, but in himself, too. He’d never known Jaskier to give up like this.

“I should have come sooner.”

“How? You didn’t even know anything was wrong with me. I—” He stopped himself, peering at Geralt with a critical eye. “How did you find me?”

“There’s rumours,” Geralt said, “In the villages. A monster in the forest. A farmer asked me to find out what was killing their animals.”

“Fuck.”

“Was it you?”

Jaskier looked guilty. “I was so hungry. I stopped going into villages when I was me, because I was terrified of what might happen. So, one evening, after I’d changed…”

“You went after animals.”

“Fuck.” Jaskier rubbed at his eyes. “It was awful. All… blood and viscera. When I turned back a few hours later I was sick. But it helped, for a while.” He paused. “There’s a contract on my head, then? A bag of coins for the… the beast?”

“Not quite. Just a couple of desperate farmers asking for help.”

“So why go looking?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“I was in Oxenfurt.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. “What? Aren’t you supposed to be in Kaer Morhen for the winter?”

Geralt shook his head. “I took too many contracts in the South. Couldn’t make it back in time. And…”

“And?”

“I was looking for you. You always invite me to the Winter competition. Thought I’d show up, for once.”

“Oh Geralt.” Jaskier looked pleased. For the first time since finding him, the smile that split his face actually reached his eyes. Geralt could sense the happiness on him - the faint smell of honey beneath the more overwhelming musk of fur and dust. “And the one time you actually show up I wasn’t even there.”

“Everyone’s worried about you, you know.”

“What?”

“I met a woman in the city. Priscilla. She thought you were with me, I thought you were at the Academy. It’s why no one had tried to find you already.”

“She asked you to find me?”

“She did. But I’d have done it anyway. I’d heard about the monster near the city, and…” He faltered, struggling to finish that thought.

“You thought it had killed me. That’s why you were looking for it.”

“I thought it had killed you and nobody noticed.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not yet, anyway.”

He said it with a certainty that made Geralt’s blood run cold. Before he could placate him with empty reassurances, Jaskier had grabbed his hand.

“Geralt, I need to know,” he said. “Do you know what this is? What’s happening to me?”

Jaskier’s gaze bore into him, and he couldn’t bear it. Geralt looked back towards the fire, letting it blind him.

“No.”

It was all there was to say. He heard Jaskier’s breath hitch, but couldn’t turn to look at him, couldn’t risk seeing the expression on his face.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Another breath - another stuttering, silenced sob. Geralt finally shifted, meeting Jaskier’s broken gaze.

Fuck. It was like he’d signed his death warrant himself, like his blood was on Geralt’s hands. Jaskier had been clinging to the hope that Geralt would know what to do - strong, dependable, experienced Geralt - and he’d smashed that hope with a single word.

“But we can fix it.” Geralt said, squeezing Jaskier’s hand.

“How? You said it yourself: you don’t know what it is.”

“Not the specifics. But… this is a spell, or a curse. It’s magic. We just need to find a mage, and—”

He was cut off by a hoarse chuckle from Jaskier. “Where do you propose we find a mage?”

“Perhaps in Rinde, or Novigrad… ”

“Both four days ride away. Longer, as I can only travel during the daylight, and longer still considering I can barely walk from one end of this room to the other.”

“You can ride Roach, I’ll walk.”

Another laugh with no life behind it.

“What a privilege. I only get to ride her when I’m dying.”

“You’re not—”

“Hate to disagree with you, Geralt, but I rather think I might be.”

“No. I refuse.” Jaskier raised his eyebrows, but Geralt continued. “You need to rest. We both do. Later, I’ll find us something to eat. Perhaps eating while you’re human might help, a little… And then as soon as the sun’s up tomorrow we’ll leave.”

“But—”

“I’m getting you help. I can’t fix this, but there are people out there who can. We’re going to find one of them.”

Jaskier just smiled at him. It was clear he didn’t believe him.

“We should sleep. You need to conserve your energy for tomorrow.”

Geralt had brought his things, sparse as they were, into the dilapidated building with him, leaving Roach in a well-sized building outside which might once have been a stable - or perhaps a drawing room. He took his bedroll and blanket and added them to the pile - the heap that Jaskier had been sleeping tangled up in. He settled beneath the blanket, then looked across at Jaskier, still sat awkwardly with the cloak wrapped around him, shivering slightly.

“Jaskier.”

“What?”

“Are you still cold?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your teeth are chattering.”

“Sorry. I’ll stop. You sleep, Geralt.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. Even cursed and weakened, Jaskier was stubborn. He lifted his arm, beckoning for Jaskier to join him beneath the blanket.

“Come here.”

For a moment, he thought Jaskier was going to comply, but he held himself back, his expression pained.

“I can’t, Geralt.”

“How many beds have we shared, Jaskier? How many bedrolls? Why now are you being—”

“It’s not that.” Jaskier cut him off, looking down at his hands, his dirtied fingernails. “I can’t… what if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

“But what if I change, and attack you? What if it takes over, and I can’t stop it…”

“You saved me earlier. You’ve not attacked anyone, we both know that.”

“Not yet. But what if I do? What if I don’t even know I’m doing it…”

“You won’t. Jaskier, I saw you like that. You were in control, even if you didn’t realise it. And anyway,” he gestured again to the space beneath his arm, “I’m a witcher. You couldn’t take me down if you tried.”

Jaskier smiled softly at the barb - the familiar tease.

“You know, I’ve not…” He began to twist his fingers around each other once more, “I’ve not shared a bed with anyone since that first time. This is the closest I’ve been to another person in weeks.”

Geralt paused. To spend so long without the constant chatter of others, without unnecessary smalltalk and pushing bodies and infuriating closeness, seemed ideal to him. Seven weeks of solitude sounded like a dream.

But this was Jaskier, Jaskier who was obsessed with other people, with gossip and story and talking till his throat hurt. Jaskier who was always reaching out, always touching, always grabbing - softly casual touches, embraces, kisses on cheeks and lips, a new bedfellow every other day.

For him, it must have been a nightmare.

Geralt finally lowered his arm then stood, grabbing both the blanket and bedroll and dragging it over to where Jaskier was sitting.

“Geralt, what are you—”

“No arguments. Lie down.”

“But—”

“Jaskier.” He looked at him, cautiously. The smell of fear prickled from his skin. “You won’t hurt me. Even if you tried, you couldn’t. It’s fine.”

Jaskier seemed to be aware that there was no point arguing, and finally unclasped the cloak as he scooted closer, letting Geralt wrap his arm and the heavy winter blanket around him. Even through layers of clothes, Geralt could feel how cold he was, and bit back a gasp as his cold feet connected with Geralt’s leg.

He lay there stiffly between Geralt’s arms, clearly unsure, and Geralt could hear his heart quietly pattering. He leant forwards till his lips were nearly pressed against Jaskier’s ear.

“Relax,” he whispered.

Jaskier made a soft, startled noise, then finally let himself soften, his muscles loosening, melting into Geralt’s touch. Geralt pulled him closer, sliding a hand down his side to rest against his stomach, and Jaskier sniffed.

“Even if you can’t cure me…” Jaskier pillowed his head on Geralt’s arm, his back flush against Geralt’s chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, just held him tighter and waited, hyper-aware of the sound of his breathing and the fluttering of his heart, until he fell asleep between his arms.

~

Bright sunlight was spilling through the high windows, illuminating the floating specks of dust that danced through the air. Geralt shifted, waking slowly, feeling warm and comfortable. For a moment, it was like nothing had happened. It would have been easy to believe that he was in some inn after a hunt, or even on the floor of a forest, Jaskier sleeping peacefully, pressed close against him.

He opened his eyes unwillingly, taking in the room around him, the sunlight pooling on the pile of curtains and blankets where they’d slept.

Careful not to wake the bard, Geralt slowly sat up, pulling his now numb arm out from under him. Jaskier wriggled, but didn’t wake up. The fire had shrunk, and Geralt quickly restocked it, feeding the flames with Igni before grabbing his cloak from the floor.

When he turned, Jaskier was awake, staring at him from beneath Geralt’s blanket.

“I’m going to find something to eat,” Geralt explained, pulling on the cloak. “I shouldn’t be long.”

Jaskier blinked at him sleepily, then sat up, hair mussed.

“Geralt.”

Geralt knelt beside him. His expression was tired and lost and so horribly sincere. “Yes?”

He smiled. “Try not to get eaten by wolves.”

Geralt let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. “I’ll try not to. Go back to sleep.”

Geralt left Jaskier gently snoozing in the pile of torn-down drapes and blankets and headed out into the forest. The presence of a monster clearly hadn’t frightened any of the wild creatures still living in the woods - perhaps because Jaskier had been too cautious to actually try and catch any of them. He had vague intentions of bringing down a deer with his crossbow - something large enough to last them several days.

It worried him how thin Jaskier was. He’d promised him that they’d get help, and it was becoming clear that they didn’t have time to waste. They’d eat well this evening, take some meat with them, and the rest he could cook and cure overnight on a low fire. It might last them a week or so. He hoped it wouldn’t take them much longer than that to find a mage. He wished that he knew where the hell Yen was.

He made his way over the ruined courtyard into the thick forest beyond. The winter sun was bright - it was probably still early afternoon - but the space beneath the trees was already bathed in shadow. For all his fear, Jaskier had at least chosen a good place to hide - only a fool would be brave enough to creep through here. Geralt picked his way under branches and enormous felled trees, their roots jutting haphazardly into the air like broken fingers, keeping his body low and his breathing quiet.

Here and there were signs of life - scent trails rubbed against a tree, scraps of fur, droppings and footprints. He pulled the crossbow out and squatted against a tree, his back pressed to the bark, and waited.

It took longer than he had expected for something to cross his path. A doe, several meters away, picking her way between the trees. As silently as he could, he clicked the bolt in place, and aimed.

~

As Geralt made his way back to the ruins, the deer slung across his shoulders and the sun truly set, it began to snow. Lightly at first, but by the time he’d reached the courtyard the flakes were falling thick and fast. He pushed aside the broken door and shook the snowflakes from his hair as he trudged the long corridor towards the room Jaskier had made into his home these past several weeks. The structure that had once been the kitchen was totally destroyed, so he’d have to skin the deer elsewhere. Probably in the corridor, or the central room itself.

His mind full of the intricacies of properly skinning and treating game, he made his way into Jaskier’s hideout, the orange light from the fire flickering through the empty doorway and across the cold stone floor. He dropped the deer and headed towards the pile of blankets where he’d left Jaskier gently sleeping a few hours ago.

Jaskier had tangled himself up in the musty fabric, buried beneath a thick bolt of cloth, and Geralt tugged it back. Sometime during his absence, Jaskier had changed again - probably just before the sun had completely set. The clothes he’d been wearing to sleep were torn and tattered around him, destroyed by the transformation. As Geralt pulled back the cloth to better see him, he twitched, wriggled, and opened his eyes. He looked tired.

“Grl’t—”

The noise came low, rumbling and hoarse as Jaskier tried to sit up from the nest of blankets. His chest was rising and falling too quick. Something was wrong. Geralt dropped the blanket and bent lower, listening to the erratic thumping of Jaskier’s heart. It sounded strained.

Fuck. Of course it did. That would be why Jaskier was so weak, why each transformation left him feeling worse: his heart couldn’t cope with the constant state of flux. This wasn’t like any curse he’d seen before - despite the changes, Jaskier was still human, at his core. Fragile and easily broken.

Fear gripped at him, making his blood run cold. What if he really was too late? What if the damage was already too much, and Jaskier wouldn’t even make it a few days on the road?

With a groan, Jaskier leaned up on his enormous arms. Geralt got the distinct impression he was being careful not to loom over him - not to emphasise his new monstrousness. Even rising from the makeshift bed seemed to tire him.

“How do you feel?” It was a stupid question: Geralt could see how he felt, could hear it in his stuttering pulse, smell it in the fear seeping from him.

“Bad,” Jaskier said, simply, his voice emerging from the mouth of a monster. “Just… bad.”

“I got a deer,” said Geralt, as if that might help. “We can eat some tonight, keep some for the journey…it should last us a week, maybe longer.”

Jaskier peered at him, his eyes heavily lidded. It appeared they were both thinking the same thing - that a week might be too long.

“It’s snowing,” said Geralt, far too casually, trying to skirt the subject. “Just started as I headed back.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s expression dropped. “I’ve not seen snow in… in years. I’m going to miss it.”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” said Geralt, quietly. “And the day after, probably. Looks like a storm.”

“Geralt—”

“You’ll be fine. We’re going to get you help.”

“Geralt.”

Geralt allowed himself to be silenced.

“I don’t… Geralt, what if we don’t… what if I don’t make it till then?”

“You will. You will, we just need to wait till you turn back and we can go.”

Jaskier shook his head. “It’s like… It’s like I can feel it in me, like a shadow.” He sighed, the sound so loud Geralt could feel it vibrating. “Thank you for trying.”

The fire still roared in the grate beside them, the crackling flames accompanying Jaskier’s harried breaths in harmony. For a moment, Geralt said nothing - didn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go outside.”

“What? Geralt, I’ll—”

“You want to see the snow?”

“Yes, but—”

“You can wrap a blanket around you, pr my cloak. Jaskier, I can’t… if you’re right, and I can’t help you…” he willed his voice not to crack, “it’s the least I can do.”

He rose to his feet, and extended a hand. Jaskier paused - just for a moment - then took it, allowing Geralt to pull him to his feet. He staggered, a little, and Geralt caught him, tucked beneath his arm as he guided him to the wall where he could lean without fear of falling. He quickly dug through the pile and pulled out the largest blanket he could find, and helped Jaskier tug it over his shoulders like an oversized cape.

His strength seemed to return a little as they made their way outside, and by the time they reached the courtyard he could walk without leaning on Geralt. The snow was falling thickly now, and the stone yard was already blanketed in a soft, white carpet.

Geralt watched as Jaskier - the creature which Jaskier had become - tottered around the snow. There was something in his gait, the way he placed his feet and the way he held his arms by his side, that was so unmistakably him. Geralt felt a hot little stab of guilt - one that kept niggling at him - at how close he’d come to simply dealing with the problem like the farmer had begged him to, like his profession demanded. He was glad he hadn’t.

Jaskier unsteadily walked across the uneven ground, staring up at the thick flakes of snow falling from the sky. The moon, high and bright and pinned to the velvet sky, reflected in his huge eyes.

They were still blue. Even out here, in the dark, Geralt could see how blue they were.

He grinned - showing off rows and rows of deadly looking teeth - then opened his jaw and extended his tongue - catching snowflakes on the tip, laughing as they melted in his mouth.

Geralt smiled to himself. He remembered the first time he’d seen Jaskier do this: they’d travelled together further into winter than they usually had, and had found themselves nearly snowed in in a shitty little town nestled next to the mountains. Jaskier had said that it almost never snowed in Lettenhove, and Geralt had rolled his eyes. They were never wanting for snow at Kaer Morhen.

He’d watched as Jaskier had danced about in the fluffy flakes, giggling like a child, catching them on his tongue. He’d thought, all those years ago, what an idiot he was. But even then, there wasn’t that much malice to the thought.

And now he watched as Jaskier, transformed and irrevocably weakened - repeated that gentle, carefree action in the courtyard of the ruined castle, arms outstretched.

There was a hot little ache in Geralt’s chest, stuck between his ribs.

Gods, he thought, sudden and slow and inevitable, I love him.

In the centre of the courtyard, Jaskier slipped with a short, sharp gasp. It looked like he’d just stepped on a patch of ice, but as he tried to right himself he stumbled, a clawed hand grasping at his chest. He gasped again, his breathing short and heavy, great plumes of steam rising from his gaping mouth and mingling with the falling snow.

Jaskier collapsed, the woolen blanket falling around him, obscuring him from view. Geralt ran forwards, his own feet skidding on the icy stone floor, and Jaskier cried out - a low, terrible howl.

“Geralt!”

Geralt was there, dropping to his knees and skidding the rest of the way.

No, no no - not now, please - not now -

Jaskier moaned beneath the cloak, tugging it closer. Geralt grabbed him, placing his hands on the huge expanse of his back. Even through the thick fabric he could feel heat radiating from Jaskier’s body, and the snow began to melt in a lopsided circle around them, revealing the wet stones beneath.

“Jaskier—”

The only response was a strangled sob, a noise laced with pain. Geralt couldn’t do anything, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t help. He could only watch, listening to Jaskier moan, curling in on himself.

And then it stopped. Jaskier suddenly went still, rapidly cooling beneath Geralt’s hands.

“No, Jaskier, no—”

Geralt tugged at the blanket, pulling him upwards, trying to see him. If he could get to him, maybe he could stop this - bring him back -

There was a choke. A coughing, wheezing breath. The bundle beneath Geralt’s grabbing hands moved, shifted, rose -

Jaskier clutched the blanket around his shoulders in pale, shaking hands. He puffed out a steamy breath from between pink lips, teeth chattering. The snow stuck in his shaggy brown hair and clung to his long eyelashes.

“Jaskier…”

The bard - once a man, then a beast, now miraculously a man once more - frowned at him.

“Geralt?”

He shivered in the cold air, eyes darting around Geralt’s face. He peered down at his hands, the long fingers that dug into the wool. He made a little noise - partway between a shout and a sob - silent tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Fuck, Geralt!” He lunged forwards, and Geralt grabbed him, wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders and pulling him towards his chest. “What did you do?” He mumbled, words muffled against Geralt’s shoulder.

“I don’t… I didn’t do anything, I was just standing here…”

Jaskier shifted in his arms to better look at him.

“You must have done something, Geralt. What were you doing? Exactly?”

Geralt could feel the blood threaten to rush to his face. He forced the emotion down, happy for the cold breeze on his cheeks.

“I…” Fuck, could he tell him? Could he tell Jaskier what he’d been thinking as he stood there, watching him in the snow?

Jaskier frowned, eyes narrowing.

“What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

Shit.

“I… I was watching you.”

“And?”

“I realised…” He swallowed, and held Jaskier tighter. “Fuck, Jask. I realised I love you.”

Jaskier’s mouth opened and shut in silence. When he finally found his voice, it came out in bursts.

“But…. I - you - Geralt, what?” He blinked, eyes huge. “You… shit, Geralt, you love me?”

“I… yes.”

“And you didn't think to tell me earlier?”

“I didn’t know! I was just… watching you, and then… I knew.”

Jaskier laughed - short and sharp - and slumped his head back against Geralt’s chest. The laughter grew, and when he pulled back, shaking his head, there were tears in his eyes.

“You fucking… a fucking love spell, Geralt? And neither of us fucking realised what it was…” he gave an exaggerated huff. “You know, other people get grand declarations beneath balconies, or heartfelt admissions in the pouring rain, or true love’s fucking kiss, and what do I get? A brief moment of silent self-reflection. Bloody hell, Geralt, but you’re so… you’re so fucking you, you great git.”

Geralt was about to respond - to perhaps apologise, or defend himself - when Jaskier surged forwards, pulling the blanket with him as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and kissed him.

It was sudden, and unexpected, and wonderful. Jaskier kissed like he might die if he stopped, like there was nothing left in the world but them, and the way their lips danced together. Geralt clung to him, his fingers digging into his back through the fabric of the blanket, letting Jaskier pull him closer. Jaskier’s hands wound about his nape, tangled in his hair, desperate and eager like he might vanish at any moment.

When Jaskier finally pulled back his eyes were wide, lips shining.

“I love you too, of course,” he said with a little grin, “obviously.”

“Obviously?”

“I’m amazed you didn’t figure it out, really. I’ve never been exactly subtle.”

Geralt felt very stupid. “Fuck.”

“We can get to that later,” said Jaskier, pulling the fabric back around him. “I’m fucking freezing. And I’d like to point out that I’m not exactly dressed beneath this thing.”

Geralt peered down, then immediately looked back up, the flush creeping up his neck completely uncontrollable. Jaskier smirked.

“Let’s get back inside,” he said.

Jaskier pulled the blanket back around himself and together they rose, Jaskier a little unsteady, swearing as his bare feet touched the icy ground. He leant against Geralt as they headed back inside, although his strides were surer than they’d been before - his back straighter. Geralt focused his hearing, trying to pick out the sound of Jaskier’s heart beneath the violent chattering of his teeth.

It sounded strong. Not, perhaps, as strong as it once was - not as strong as it had been seven months ago - but stronger than even an hour ago, stronger than it had been when he’d found him, transformed and wild.

He was okay. He would be okay.

~

“Here.”

Geralt rummaged through his bag, then threw a shirt towards Jaskier - the one he’d been given by Elisa only a few days ago. Jaskier caught it easily, looking pleased, then suddenly realised what he was holding.

“Ah—”

“When I was looking for you, I spoke to a very nice woman in Oxenfurt named Elisa. She said you left this behind.”

“Fuck.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows as Jaskier flushed, still gripping the shirt, the blanket wrapped rather haphazardly around his shoulders, hardly even covering his nakedness.

“You can put it on,” he prompted, “it’s fine. I was wondering where that shirt had gone.”

Jaskier tugged the shirt over his head, messing his hair even more.

“Like hell you were, Geralt. I know what sort of care you take with your clothes. You’d never notice a missing shirt.”

“Which is why you stole one?”

“Precisely.” Jaskier smoothed out the fabric - barely long enough to cover his arse - and blushed even deeper. “I… sorry, Geralt. I just saw it hanging out of your bag before we parted for the last time in that inn and I… grabbed. Couldn’t help it.”

“Perhaps if I’d known you were wearing my clothes I’d have figured everything else out, too.”

“Wearing?” Jaskier laughed, then stalked towards Geralt and began to rifle through his bag, “I didn’t wear it, Geralt. A-hah!”

He pulled a pear of old breeches from the bag and tugged them on, Geralt deliberately looking away.

“Then… what?” He said, staring steadfastly at the crackling fire.

“Promise me you won’t freak out and leave me here.”

Geralt spun around and stared at him. “What the fuck were you doing with it?”

“Nothing weird!” Jaskier threw his hands up, “I, ah… slept with it. In my bed. Under my pillow, usually, to keep it safe.”

“Why?”

Jaskier shrugged, and the shirt slipped from one of his shoulders. “It smelt like you.”

Oh. Geralt remembered the crossroads just beyond the forest and the way he’d gripped the shirt - smelling so much of Jaskier - to his nose.

“You’re not… cross?”

“No.”

“Good,” Jaskier grinned, “that means you won’t mind swapping it out for a fresh one when we part ways.”

Geralt froze. Jaskier peered at him.

“What is it, Geralt?”

“When we part ways?”

“I mean… we always do, eventually. I just assumed…”

“Do you want to… to part ways?”

“No!” Jaskier took a quick step forward. “No, I… never, really.”

Geralt sighed, and closed the gap between them, pulling Jaskier close. Jaskier leaned into the touch, his hands sliding up Geralt’s chest.

“I left you for six months,” said Geralt, kissing Jaskier’s forehead, “and you were transformed into a beast and nearly died. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

“It was more like seven months, actually.”

“Jaskier.”

“Alright, alright. But… you won’t get sick of me?”

“I won’t get sick of you.”

Jaskier smiled, trapping his lip between his teeth before surging forwards, giving Geralt another quick kiss.

“I’m not sure I’ll get used to being allowed to do that,” he said, grinning.

~

When Geralt was completely sure that Jaskier was human - that he wasn’t about to keel over in front of him - he finally set to work at skinning and cooking the deer. Now that they didn’t need to worry about travelling by daylight or keeping hidden, it felt less important to ensure there was enough to last, and he chopped and roasted it more haphazardly than he’d been planning to.

The room was soon full of the smell of cooking venison and the sound of sizzling fat.

Even desperately hungry, his mouth covered in grease and his hands filthy, Geralt couldn’t help but stare at Jaskier. Of course he was in love with Jaskier - of course he’d been in love with him for all this time. How could he not have been?

And even when transformed, even when Jaskier had become one of the monsters he was sworn to hunt, he’d still loved him, still would have moved mountains to save him.

When he was a monster...

“Fuck, Jaskier. I’ve been so stupid.”

Jaskier was sucking at his fingers happily, completely unaware of Geralt’s revelation. “For not realising how inherently lovable I am? Don’t feel too bad, darling, you’ve time to make it up to me now.”

“No. Not that. Weeks ago, I took a contract for a werewolf… it was nasty. I had to kill him. But there was this woman, his wife... ”

“What about her?”

“I think… Jaskier, do you remember the first time you transformed? The first night? When was it, exactly?"

Jaskier frowned. “It was in the autumn. The full moon in September, it must have been.”

“Fuck.”

“Are you going to tell me your grand realisation,” said Jaskier, pulling off another chunk of meat from the roasted deer, “or are you just going to sit there and swear?”

“It was her.”

“What was her?”

“The woman. I thought she was just shouting at me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“After I’d killed him, she came out with the rest. But she was screaming at me. She was distraught, I thought it was just grief. Shit. It was her all along.”

“What did she say to you?”

“She asked… she asked if I knew what it was like. To love a monster.”

Jaskier froze, his hand halfway to his mouth. “Oh."

He scooted across the floor, threading a hand around Geralt’s arm and leaning against him.

“I fucking cursed you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier squeezed his arm. “She cursed me. It’s not your fault. Anyway…” he let his fingers drift up and down Geralt’s arm, softly playing with the folds of his shirt. “You said you didn’t realise until tonight.”

“I must have known. Deep down. Just… afraid to admit it.”

“Didn’t she say anything else?”

“She demanded payment. For the ones left behind. She talked about the law of surprise, just another jab at witchers…” He sighed, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “She asked me for what I had, but that I didn't know I possessed.”

He felt Jaskier’s body shake beside him. When he looked down, he was laughing.

“What?”

“Well it’s rather obvious, isn’t it?”

“No!”

“You didn’t curse me, I fucking cursed myself by being such a bloody coward all these years.”

“Meaning?”

“Geralt, honestly. What do you have, but you didn’t know you had it?”

Geralt blinked at him, and Jaskier rolled his eyes, giving him a nudge.

“It’s me. If we’re being awfully poetic about it: my heart. Of course it’s yours, you foolish man. It’s always been yours.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say. “...Always?”

“Give or take a few years,” Jaskier shrugged, “when you were being particularly brick-headed.”

Geralt grunted at him.

“Look,” Jaskier continued, thoughtfully, “if I’d told you I was in love with you, the curse wouldn’t have done anything. You’d have already known. So don’t feel so bad, okay? I should have gotten over myself and kissed you years ago...” He nudged him again with his head, then pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. “And you uncursed me too, which I feel is more important, considering.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway,” Jaskier wiped his hands messily on his shirt - on Geralt’s shirt, “I accepted a rather long time ago that travelling with you meant I was bound to get into some sort of magical bind at some point. Seemed inevitable. Best to get it out of the way, I say.”

“But…”

“If you’re about to say something cruel about yourself, Geralt, I would recommend you keep your mouth shut. I’m sure that awful beast is still in me somewhere, don’t make me unleash it on you.”

Geralt laughed. “Hah. You couldn’t.”

“Is that so?”

Jaskier suddenly launched himself at him. Startled by the movement, Geralt toppled backwards onto one of the discarded drapes, finding himself pinned. He could have easily pushed him off, especially now he was thinner and lighter than he’d been when they last saw each other, but something stopped him.

Jaskier’s hands gripped Geralt’s wrists above his head, his knees either side of his hips, straddling him. There was a hot pit in Geralt’s chest, sinking lower. He swallowed as Jaskier looked down at him, an expression akin to greed on his face.

“Consider it unleashed.”

He leant down, pressing his lips to Geralt’s in a hot, heavy kiss. Geralt responded with equal enthusiasm, his body reacting instinctively to the touch. He pushed himself from the floor, the kiss breaking as Jaskier gasped against his lips, now perched precariously in his lap.

Geralt nuzzled into Jaskier’s neck, keen to get at the soft skin there, wondering what he’d taste like beneath his tongue.

And then he was hit with the smell.

“Fuck, Jask,” he said, pulling back. “When did you last bathe?”

Jaskier’s already pink face flushed even deeper. “Um…”

“Jaskier.”

“I’ll have you know there’s a stream nearby here that I definitely had a, ah, quick dip in…”

“When was that?”

Jaskier looked terribly ashamed. “A couple weeks ago.”

“Melitlte’s tits.”

“I’ve been cursed, I’ll have you know! It’s not like I had access to running water.”

“Right.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“And you don’t have witcher senses. I may love you…” Jaskier grinned at that, and Geralt’s stomach did a little flip, “but I refuse to do anything more than kiss you until you’ve had a bath.”

“Fine, fine!” Jaskier removed himself from Geralt’s lap with a little huff. “Where, oh master witcher, the finest smelling man in all the land, might we find a bath suitable for your standards?”

“There’s an inn in the village that sent me here,” mused Geralt, “but it’s small. Probably too small for a bath. Or we can head back to Oxenfurt.”

“How far away are they?”

“The village… it took me a day to get through the forest. Oxenfurt will probably be two, if we’re travelling together.”

“The village it is, then,” said Jaskier, eyes shining. “We may as well try there first, hmm?”

Geralt grinned. “We may as well.”

[readingwithgenie]

Summary:

On her sixteenth birthday, orphan Himari Momochi inherits her ancestral estate that she's never seen. Momochi House exists on the barrier between the human and spiritual realms, and Himari is meant to act as guardian between the two worlds. But on the day she moves in, she finds three handsome squatters already living in the house, and one seems to have already taken over her role!

Plot Rating: ⭐⭐⭐ /5 Character Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ /5 Romance Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ /5 Overall Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ /5 Would I Recommend? Yes

What I Liked:

The characters are cute, funny, and with detailed backstories that help them to be very interesting in their own ways. The shikigami were the comedic relief for the majority of the series but they each held their own dark secrets that made them carry a shadow of mystery. Aoi and Himari are also very bubbly happy-go-lucky teenagers who also carry a burden trudged from their past.

Wonderful world building with establishing Momochi House as the "haunted house" at the top of the mountain with an entire active village below that ties nicely into the series. It felt like a real place sometimes, as if inspired by a childhood home.

There were a few chapters that managed to steal some tears. At one point I thought a cute romantic fantasy story has no right to be this sad. Prepare a box of tissues for volume two.

What I Didn't Like:

There were a few important plot arcs that ended without resolution or explanation that left me very confused. I waited until the end to see if they were brought up again but they didn't. They were left unfinished in the middle of the series which bothered me, especially since they were directly important to the main characters.

The ending played out how I expected. It was a nice ending but I wish it wasn't as predictable.

My Thoughts:

I'm not sure what inspired me to pick up this series but I'm glad I did. It was a very cute read all the way to the end with many pleasant surprises sprinkled throughout. The characters were very fun to experience. Their dynamic is more found family which made their interactions all the sweeter.

I very quickly fell in love with Ise. He is my favorite character in this manga series. I love this angsty orangutan with a reluctant soft spot for his friends, your honor.

As cute and romantic as this series is, there were several episodes that covered dark and serious issues such as suicide and child predatory behavior.

Volume two emotionally wrecked me with chapter five. The Lantern Procession is an event where those lost to suicide pass through the Momochi House. An ayakashi, Zushi, tried his best to see his sister who walked in the Procession. He tried to get her attention so they could meet again. I'm starting to cry just thinking about it. That would mean he lost his sister to suicide and now this is the only time he can see her again.

Not to mention the cliffhanger of a lifetime in volume four. That had me running and stumbling for volume five.

For most of the series I eagerly reached for each volume excited to read on. I loved the characters, the story, the romance, and the funny quirky moments thrown in that reminded me to smile.

While I loved it there were also several things that made me question the series.

Aoi entered the Momochi house as a child and since then had been trapped there, having been selected as the next Nue to protect the house and its gates. Because of this he didn't have much socialization and couldn't finish school. He was essentially a young child in a 17 year old's body. When Himari learned of his story she thought the same thing, that he hasn't had the chance to emotionally mature. Aoi reminds me of Damon from Ghost Wife (Webtoons). Himari almost had to teach Aoi how to behave himself and how to respect boundaries. Although he is a very kind and selfless boy he's also immature and Himari calls him out for it.

There were also major plot trails that went dead without a proper conclusion. I waited until the very end to see if they were revisited or mentioned but alas, they were dropped for good. Which is really sad considering one plot thread revolved around Himari's mysterious past. With Himari being an orphan with an unexpected deed to an enchanted house I hoped we'd find out more about her parents and her connection to the house. Unfortunately that trail runs cold and after Himari makes a difficult decision that directly impacts revealing her past, we never truly know what happened to her parents.

Not to mention the lost progression with Aoi's friend Hidaka and the abrupt conclusion to Kasha. Both arcs were very important and impacted both Aoi and Himari's futures and both arcs just - ended. I'm still trying to piece together how a power-hungry demon with nothing but time and the same skills as the Nue could just give up after a fight that mimicked so many others they've had previously.

Speaking of Kasha, that demon is a creep. He gives me major pedophile vibes and I want nothing to do with him. He's not even that cunning. He can outsmart two human teenagers as if that's even a feat. Aoi and Himari were oblivious to each other's feelings for the majority of the series even though they slept together, I don't think it would take much to fool them into another supernatural trap.

Plus, the majority of their fights were won with the power of love and it got boring really fast. The Nue fought diligently all the while telling Himari to stay behind where it was safe but every single time she ran to his side instead. I'm so confused by how a hug could win a fight. So many fights were won with her declaring her love. How?!

Then my interest began to wane around volume 12. The plot got buried under side stories and it became difficult to keep up. I had to remember where they left off with a certain situation from a few volumes back when it was readdressed later. The plot became blury near the end and I didn't know what everything was amounting to (other than Aoi and Himari being together).

Overall; It's a cute short fantasy read with very likable characters and a good mixture of emotional content and comedic moments. I'm glad it was only 16 volumes.

[maulthots]

Read in October

The Strange Library by Haruki Murakami Category: A book recommended by a friend Opening the flaps on this unique little book, readers will find themselves immersed in the strange world of best-selling Haruki Murakami's wild imagination. The story of a lonely boy, a mysterious girl, and a tormented sheep man plotting their escape from a nightmarish library, the book is like nothing else Murakami has written. ⭐⭐⭐

Sunshine by Robin McKinley Category: A book you read in high school There are places in the world where darkness rules, where it's unwise to walk. But there hadn't been any trouble out at the lake for years, and Sunshine just needed a spot where she could be alone with her thoughts. Vampires never entered her mind. Until they found her... ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Some Things I Still Can’t Tell You by Misha Collins Category: Any adult non-fiction book From Misha Collins, actor, longtime poet, and activist, whose massive online following calls itself his “Army For Good," comes his debut poetry collection, Some Things I Still Can't Tell You. Trademark wit and subtle vulnerability converge in each poem; this book is both a celebration of and aspiration for a life well lived. This book is a compilation of small observations and musings. It's filled with moments of reflection and a love letter to simple joys: passing a simple blade of grass on the sidewalk, the freedom of peeing outdoors late at night, or the way a hand-built ceramic mug feels when it's full of warm tea on a chilly morning. It's a catalog and a compendium that examines the complicated experience of being all too human and interacting with a complex, confounding, breathtaking world...and a reminder to stop and be awake and alive in yourself. ⭐

The Monster Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson Category: A book from your own “to-read” list Baru Cormormant's world was shattered by the Empire of Masks. To exact her revenge, she has clawed her way up razor-edged rungs of betrayal, sacrifice, and compromise, becoming the very thing she seeks to destroy. Now she strides in the Masquerade's halls of power. To save the world, she must tear it asunder...and with it, all that remains of her soul. ⭐⭐⭐⭐

A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin Category: A collection of short stories A Manual for Cleaning Women compiles the best work of the legendary short-story writer Lucia Berlin. With the grit of Raymond Carver, the humor of Grace Paley, and a blend of wit and melancholy all her own, Berlin crafts miracles from the everyday, uncovering moments of grace in the laundromats and halfway houses of the American Southwest, in the homes of the Bay Area upper class, among switchboard operators and struggling mothers, hitchhikers and bad Christians. Readers will revel in this remarkable collection from a master of the form and wonder how they'd ever overlooked her in the first place. ⭐⭐⭐

[gretavanfleetposts]

Hello, congrats on 300!! I love how detailed you guys are with your ships so I thought I would request one ☺️.

I am a 22 female, my start sign is Aires. My favorite movie is 10 things I hate about you. I would say I'm introverted until I get comfortable with someone or if I'm tipsy lol. I don't really have any skills or talents, I know how to knit and give good advice even if I don't take that advice myself. I really love reading so picking on book is way to hard so my top three as of right now are 1) Fahrenheit 451 2) the book thief and 3) a little life. My pick me up song is come on Elaine by Darcy's midnight runners. I love salty foods. My favorite clothing item is this olive green knitted sweater I have. I don't have a pet right now but I am 110% a dog person, specifically pit bulls. They are misunderstood and the most loyal dogs ever if raised right, plus everyone I've ever had is super cuddly. I don't really have an ideal date but I don't care for the basic ones like dinner and movie, I like ones that are a little more spontaneous and maybe not considered date ideas. Like going to a thrift store or antique store and just seeing what outrageous items we can find. Thank you guys!

Hey gorgeous!

❤: Girl, it sounds like you're very skilled. Knitting takes a lot of practice and a lot of patience. And giving good advice is definitely a talent because not everyone is good at that and I'm sure your friends and family really appreciate that aspect of you. Don't sell yourself short! Also, Ray Bradbury is one of my favorite authors so I approve. And having a pitbull myself, I must say you have great taste in dogs. They are very misunderstood; they just want a human they can bond with.

Ship: Sam

Because: Sam will definitely raise a pitbull with you. I think he would also agree that they are misunderstood and would love to adopt one with you. And if you want spontaneity, Sam is definitely your man. Nothing will ever be very predictable with him. I also think that your calming energy would be a nice balance to his somewhat chaotic energy. And he'd love borrowing your olive green sweater.

Scenario:

"Keep your eyes closed!" Sam yelled at you

You giggled and replaced your hands over your eyes in a dramatic fashion

Your boyfriend had insisted on taking you on a date but refused to tell you where you were going

He had given you a warning text before he got home, telling you to be ready in 30 minutes because he had a surprise date for you

That was all he had said and now you found yourself in his passenger seat, hands over your eyes, wondering where you were headed

You tried to ask some prying questions, even just to get a hint out of him, but he just shook his head and said "You'll just have to wait and see"

Finally, after what felt like an hour but realistically was probably actually about 20 minutes, you felt the car slow and come to a halt in a parking spot

"Okay okay, you can open your eyes!" he said excitedly

You let your hands fall from your face and stared up at the building in front of you

You recognized it immediately, having driven by it every morning on your way to work

It was your local dog shelter

"I thought we could adopt a dog together." His eyes were bright and a big smile was plastered on his face

You leaned over the center console and through your arms around his neck, telling him how excited you were and how much you loved the surprise

The two of you made your way inside the shelter, weaving through the cages and doting over every single dog you saw

Eventually you came across the cutest pitbull either of you had ever laid eyes on

You both looked at each other with a smile, knowing instantly she was the one to complete your little family

I hope you liked it! Thank you for the request!

-⭐

get shipped here!