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w4t3rgun2 · 2 years

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Cookie Run into TWST inspection

I'm bored, I have other things but I'ma do this instead

OWNER NOTES; Kinda wanna write some of these... BUT THIS TOOK ME 5 DAYS SO I APOLOGIZE IF ANYTHING IS WEIRD. Posted on 12/06/2022 at 1:13 AM

CW// Riddle's mother (mentioned), Spoilers, b0mbs (Caviar part), poison/venom (Scorpion), me cursing

WARNING; I'm not finished or near finished in either of the games, all from my POV of the games' lore and how I see dorm/characters, feel free to correct me. I'm also using fanwiki for this!

--Almond Cookie 1/7--

Almond's character can be described as a hard worker, enough so to ignore his own health for the sake of his job. The fandom sees him a s a caring father of Walnut, which is canon. He is a canon veteran detective who's skill is called "Almond Handcuffs" which as the wiki describes as "Uses magical handcuffs to apprehend the enemy with the lowest max HP (targets Cookies first) and apply the Damage Link debuff, which disperses a portion of damage the apprehended enemy receives between up to five linked enemies (cannot be applied to summoned creatures). Cannot be interrupted." (tldr; magic handcuffs to lower HP on target(s)) But the fandom counts him to be a strict yet overworked detective.

And that's why I'm sorting him into Heartslabyul, his strict work fits the dorm. As Heartslabyul is described to be "known for its long list of rules that its students are expected to abide by. Should they break even one, it will result in their beheading by the housewarden." But it also has a court, which fits Almond's theme of a detective.

The best relations with Almond would be Riddle Rosehearts, Professor Mozus Trein and Ortho Shroud. Riddle is a strict dorm leader but Almond would be help in court, especially when someone would break a rules. Of course, this is before Book 1's overblot. But considering the aftermath, Almond would be a parental figure for Riddle that his mother wasn't best at. But he'd still help on rulebreakers. But on the other hand, Professor Trein. No, I don't mean that they're both called old by the fandom but because while Trein is also strict, so is Almond. They could bond over both history and cats. Trein has probably stated for him to stop being so overworking, Trein knows better than Almond does. (Of course he does, the dude's 58- BY CANON) While Almond would see Ortho as like Walnut, curious and ready to help! Almond would feel at home with the little robot child around him.. :)

--Carol Cookie 2/7--

Now this is an interesting cookie... Her description states that he is a gentle yet a hopeful cookie who loves songs and lives her life by said songs. She seems to be a friendly cookie who is technically called 'Bard cookie' in the original Korea game. Her skill is "Magic Songs" which is described as "Sings the Song of Joy to restore the team's HP and increase their CRIT% and CRIT DMG. When only two or fewer Cookies are left, including Carol Cookie, switches to the Song of Change instead, having her Cooldown immediately reset and decreased for the remainder of the battle. The Song of Change damages the enemies, increases the team's CRIT% and CRIT DMG, and reduces the Cooldown for the remaining team members. With each regular attack, Carol Cookie sings the Song of Energy and restores the entire team's HP. However, the fewer team members she needs to heal, the more healing each individual member will receive. While Carol Cookie is using her skill, she will briefly become resistant to interrupting effects." (tldr; healing and attacks (It's 8pm I cant read *sob*))

Now, normally NRC doesn't allow girls but I'm a fanfic writer, you think I listen to the devs for this? Ha! Nahh! :) But it's hard to put her into a specific dorm... But I believe she fits Scarabia the most! The dorm is known for it's resourcefulness, and incantations. I would personally say it's one of the most positive dorms due to their dorm leader, Kalim! But the downside is it's motto of "plan with deep anticipation", which Carol doesn't fully do. She goes with the flow of the song, but that could be used as a positive thing, especially in certain books/chapters!

Her friends would be the Light Music Club members! Especially Kalim but also Ortho! Ortho would see Carol as a parental/teacher figure! She shows how to use her instrument (music people are gonna come after me) and also give lessons on how to properly take care of it to the whole club! Of course, poor Jamil having to deal with 2 hopeful yet chaotic good people! But Carol would have Kalim when Jamil needed a break ^^

--Sorbet Shark Cookie 3/7--

Well we all know them, and we love them. They're a curious and silly shark cookie! It is noted that they're not a fast cookie but who cares! They're a little mischievous shark sneaking onto pirate ships! Their skill is called "Shark Splash" and it basically ambushes the enemies in shark form! (I'm not copy and pasting this time. Too lazy.) Unfortunaly, they can't speak on land (they do talk in bubbles instead) but they can in water! But all they want is some company, poor kid was practically alone their whole life! (Before Black Pearl.) They're managed the cleanliness and hygiene of the while on a Stink-Eye Tortuca's ship!

Now here's the problem; they're a kid. But again, I'm a fanfic writer. And also Ortho is technically still 5 (....) soo! I think they fit best in Octavinelle! Of course, not because of the business or intelligence but instead because of the Lounge and socialization! They're one of Azul's favorite student workers in the Lounge, and he gets paid in jellies!

Sorbet's friends include Floyd, Ortho, and Azul! Ortho helps translate whenever out of water, while Floyd hears them rant outside of water like "I agree with Sharkey!" or when they're being silly ^^ While with Azul, he relates with the small shark and actually enjoy their company! They usually stay in the VIP room whenever they gotta do schoolwork and I guess you can say kinda like a Parent-Child relationship!

--Frost Queen Cookie 4/7 --

Oh boy.. Elsa Cookie... Honestly, best way I can explain her is cold (haha) and like the Snow Queen from that one fairytale. But while the others were Epic rank cookies, this one is a Legendary! And honestly, she pissy when she picked up. Her skill is called "Freezing Squall" and I'm just gonna explain it in my own words, by that, I mean she summons like ice from the ground like Avatar. She's kinda like a God of Snow and winter tbh... Friends with Snow White??? Nah.

Anyways- Again, NRC is an all boy school so she wouldn't be able to but I'MA IGNORE. And I claim she goes to Pomefiore! The dorm is known for their poison and curses, and guess which *THE* Frost Queen can do? Curses! We've seen what she's done to Sherbet-

Her relations would probably be just Vil, I don't know but I see them having a Mother-Son relationship where Frost is like "MY DEAREST SON, PLEASE HELP ME WITH THE MAGIC DEVICE MIRROR PLEASE SEND THIS TO VIL, THANK YOU" and Vil texts back like "You used voice to text. Unfortunately, I'm busy but Rook will be right there."

--Captain Caviar Cookie 5/7 --

I just got him... Perfect timing! ^^ But anyways- From his description, he is an elder and a respected hero by the Republic! (Me remembering who the republic is: ...) But by his name, you can guess that he's a respected captain who sails everywhere! He's a pretty important guy in the Cookie Run Lore! And I love Roe which isn't exactly Caviar but close! Not really... But I'm too lazy to type all of this out, but let's get to his skill! His skill is called "Black Shark Torpedo" and basically, bombs. I'm genuine about it as I type this. I can't express how surprised I was when I read it.

Now... Dorm... *laughs nervously...* SAVANACLAW! C'mon, what'cha expect? Yeah, it's dry af but HEAR ME OUT. Savanaclaw's wiki literally says "Savanaclaw is a dorm located in a deserted area alongside a Spelldrive stadium. Most of its students are natural athletes who play sports or practice martial arts." NOW LOOK AT CAVIAR- YOU THINK HE DIDN'T TRAIN TO BE WHO IS TODAY?!! WRONGGG

ANyways- Um- Besties with Vargas, Deuce, Epel and Jack. No questions. Enemies with Idia. I said what I said. Good day. Vargas and him race a lot while the other two out of breath and dying in the background (except for Jack, Jack still going ^^) while he dislikes Idia and meanwhile Idia; "😰"

--Scorpion Cookie 6/7 --

OH I LOVE HER, OMG, YESSS- Anyways- Pretty sure she's the only one on this list that's only from Ovenbreak! Congrats to her!! Back to your scheduled stuff- Scorpion Cookie. Class Epic with title of "Poison & Venom"! Her description focuses mainly on her being a poisonous and dangerous with a Scorpion tail! But she returns to Yogurt Caravan to meet with a friend... While venom dripping, totally not suspicious! She isn't fazed when tough cookies try to fight her, why would she tbh? Her skill doesn't have a name! But it's ability is spray venom and dissolve obstacles in the path! She has magic candy but I'm not in the mood to type that too... She seems to see people positively while they see her as negative. Let's take Scorpion and Lilac- S about L; "You used to be so different! What happened, I wonder... (Trust)" and L about S; " ... Leave now, and never come back. (Tension)"

Now, she's a hard case for this... While she is great in poison, which could fit Pomefiore, she's also fitting for Octavinelle for her deals. But she could also fit for Savanaclaw for her athletic knowledge, but then again.... But Savanaclaw is off the list. Perhaps Octavinelle... Hmm.... I've made my mind! Scarabia! Be mad at me, sure, but let's be honest, she fits. The aesthetic of the dorm matching Yogurt Caravan! Not only that, listen to this quote; "In addition to that, the students in Scarabia live under the motto "plan with deep anticipation"." And adding that the dorm is full of highly resourceful students! She wouldn't fit right in with Jamil (due to obvious reasons) but she would fit in the dorm for magic/personal reasons!

But relationships... Her relationship with Jamil would be the worst. But her best would definitely be with the Octotrio and Rook! You may me questioning why I said Rook (or not, idc) but Rook would help her 'talk' to some people by telling her where a person is, or if they're alone! Perfect plan for a assa- meet up! ^^

--Wizard Cookie 7/7 --

What? You thought I would say someone Epic? Or Rare? Nope! I love Wizard deeply! (C'MON PEOPLE, GIVE ME WIZARD ANGST OR GIVE ME DEATH) But at this point, what needs to be introduced with him? He's Wizard cookie, the canon only Ice cream cookie! (I do not count Ice Juggler, that is an ice baby) But his skill is lighting!! He's pretty good if done correctly, but he absolutely loves magic! But despises potions. (Seriously, what did potions do to you???) But I have nothing much to say about him honestly. Love him, but wish there was more lore... But he does want to be the very best wizard there is, looking up to older wizards and able to study history enough to figure out stuff in at least a character.

But here's the thing, he's the easiest to put into a category, let's be honest. He doesn't go to Heartslybul, nor Pomefiore, but I say, he goes to Diasomnia! Why? Cuz magic bitch B) But in all seriousness, Diasomnia is known for their magic! Especially accelerating in all types! And what do ya know? That's his goal! He fits and I say he do.

His relationships.. Probably Lilia, Malleus and Riddle. Lilia is teaching him while the smoke detectors go off. Malleus just needs a friend who interested in Gargoyles (I headcanon Wizard to have interest in Gargoyles, shut up) and Riddle is way too obvious, they study together.

I'M DONE, AFTER 5 DAYS I'M DONE:DDD

#cr x twst #twst #disney twisted wonderland #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #menu.self #disney twst #mizuki's diner!💞#mizuki.text #twst wonderland #twst headcanons

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spumonibones · 4 months

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Chasing Wings: Ch. 06 Lore/Story

Chapter 06 (Ao3) | Chapter 06 (Tumblr)

Chapter One (Ao3) | Chapter One (Tumblr)

Lore+Notes under cut!

***

LORE/STORY: • Xiao being defensive of Morax/Rex Lapis/Zhongli

→ The first meeting of the Seven Archons would have, very likely, been a little under 2,000 years ago (as the Archon War ended 2,000 years ago). If in-game canon still has Xiao standing firmly with the, "talk bad about Morax and I'll hate you forever," then I would imagine this was worse when he didn't have literally two millenia to calm down about it. Given Barbatos, every chance he gets, enjoys teasing Morax... I would imagine their first meeting to not leave Xiao with a good impression. At least not until he better understood the type of friendship Morax and Barbatos had, and the type of person Barbatos is. Was?

→ In Xiao's character story, it mentions that before the unnamed god forced him into servitude, Alatus is described as, "younger and more naive." After Morax frees him it states, "the evil god had rid him of his innocence and gentleness." It really does come across that Xiao as we know him now, is... Much softer, even with that hardened exterior he maintains for everyone's safety. Which is why I tried to convey that Xiao in present of the fic looks back at that first meeting and cringes, but makes sense as to *why* he acted as such back then.

→ We don't actually know when Xiao and Barbatos first technically met. Aside from the video showcasing it was Venti that saved Xiao from his karmic debt, it's left pretty open for fans to guess.

→ And even that video is pretty unclear as to the when. Leaving this spot open, as I know I read something mentioning that Venti woke up after the Cataclysm but before game-start to try and find Dvalin, but I can't find it anymore??? So until I can confirm, this is ~SPECULATION~

STORY: • " That Xiao’s own had been ripped from him, his life still more years with wings than without during that meeting of the Seven. " - taken from Chasing Wings: Memoria chapter 06, page 02

→ I legitimately thought this was an in-game canon, however my digging has proven fruitless. If this is in-game, I can't find it. ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ This seems to be fan-canon, and it is fan-canon I am using. I should note, me not being able to find something doesn't mean it isn't there. Again, I get lost in Teyvat all the time. Finding things is not a skill of mine.

LORE: • The Three Sisters is lore that thus far every region has added to, and yet we still only have mostly speculation for. In this chapter, Venti is specifically reading Moonlit Bamboo Forest.

LORE/GAME SPECULATION: • " That there were two sides to the bard, the transition from one to the other seamless. " -taken from Chasing Wings: Memoria chapter 06, page 04

→ This is a characteristic of Venti we've seen mostly in the early part of the game, with the original writing crew. Around Inazuma there was a change in writers (this doesn't provide a source, but seems to be generally accepted as to the reason), and many speculate this had a lot to do with the... Interesting choices made in that storyline. Venti in the Prologue and his Character Quest especially seem to focus in on the difference between when he's speaking as Venti the Bard and as Anemo Archon Barbatos.

→ In addition, it really does feel like there's a shift happening with what is being done with the story. Between extending the game's story (I'm sure there's better articles, but I just needed something quick to show the game's original 5-year plan has been extended. This says rumor, but there's enough to show Genshin will be longer than 5 years), and the writer's change I am not sure if the way Venti was initially being portrayed will stay as long-term canon or will remain as just early game content. But I feel strongly it adds a unique depth to him, and try to incorporate it in the fic. (Not that you see much of it after this point, since it's mostly him and Xiao interacting)

Chapter 06 Song/Lyrics: "Learn to Fall Before You Fly" Song: Learning to Fly (cover) by Christina Aguilera

Another chapter I was struggling trying to find something that works. I was tempted to use Xiao's theme, Path of Yaksha, but its beat didn't really work for how... Casual this chapter felt?

This song seemed to fit best it could. There's the brief reference to Venti once more attempting to take flight (and doing that falling thing again), along with the memory of Xiao receiving a feather from Barbatos to experience flight in the form of guiding. It's also in general a song about understanding that mistakes are part of the learning process, and Xiao dealing with what he believes are the repercussions of his youthful ignorance.

#ChasingWingsLore

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leelee120000 · 9 months

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My Voice: How Dungeons and Dragons Saved My Quarantine

August 6, 2020

Iwrite fiction in my spare time and have consistently for nearly eight years now. When I was very little, I used to tell my stories verbally to my friends. The theatrics of live storytelling has always been something I enjoyed. Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) feels like that. Imagine writing a story out loud, now, imagine co-writing that story alongside nine other people with a very fluid plot and rules. It’s a spectacular chaos filled with extreme highs and lows.

It’s no secret that we at the Clarion are, for the most part, big nerds. However, the general public might be unaware that back in early October of 2019, we formed an unofficial joint Dungeons & Dragons party between us and a few members of Sinclair’s Bright Signal Alliance with Clarion photographer Brian Walker as our leader.

Our group has met weekly since, not counting the odd weekends where a majority of us were too busy to. Before quarantine, we made D20, the local D&D bar, into a second home for ourselves and added a few players outside the main groups of the Clarion and Bright Signal. (Speaking of which, support local business whenever you can right now.)

In pop culture, D&D is typically portrayed as a group of men in one of their mother’s basement. They gather around a candle-lit table covered in junk food while wearing dollar store costumes, argue over math and throw a pile of funny dice. While players do occasionally cosplay, it’s not a requirement.

Also, the gender gap of players is greatly decreasing. Personally speaking, my own party is seven women to three men‒a relief to the common problems associated with being the only girl present.

House games are still quite common, but now there is a growing trend of having community bars or clubs houses for players to be more social. Math in D&D is almost always a basic addition. Nobody would argue over it. A dice set is typically made up of seven dice.

There’s the 20-side die, or D20, the 12-sided die or D12, the 10-side die or D10, the 8-sided die or D8, the six-sided die or D6 and the 4-sided die or D4. 90% of the time the only die the player uses is D20. The rest are used typically in battle, but we almost never use them all at once.

D&D isn’t as complicated as it appears at first glance. The first thing you pick is your character’s race. Note, race in D&D refers to if they are a mythological creature or humanoid, not skin tones. For example, mythological creatures include orcs, half-lings, etc.

Next is class. Class is not an economical place, but more an occupation or defending characteristic. These include, but are not limited to, a bard, a fighter, a ranger, a wizard, a rouge, etc.

There is a list of all the rules that apply to each race and class in the DM’s guide book. These rules are the lifeblood and launching point for your character. However, there is a lot of freedom in creating your appearance, backstory, and personality. After the group of players create their characters, they are a party.

The dungeon master, often referred to as a DM, either creates or uses a pre-created campaign for these characters to adventure forth in. They could last anywhere from three months to years. The players use their rules and earn points each time they play together in a session. Over time, the points add up, causing the players to earn levels which grant them new skills overtime.

Currently, our group is facing our biggest opponent yet – the leader of an army of shapeshifters. I have a suspension that the leader will be a multiple session fight. Our sessions are four to five hours. I am beyond excited about it, and I theorize so many things about the character in our group chat, undoubtedly giving Brian free inspiration to use later against our characters in battle. He is a good fiction writer. I’ve seen his foreshadowing of this in previous sessions.

However, the bigger reward is the friendships we’ve formed. I’m never lonely anymore with a group chat that often hits 70+ messages a day. Someone is always up to talk about life or joke about the frustrations of college.

These friendships run deep, and I truly know that any of them would help me in a time of crisis and I would for them. It’s refreshing and probably one of the happiest things in my entire life.

The effect on my own happiness has been profound. College caused a lot of frantic changes to my life. I had to handle the change in responsibility from high school to full-time college and navigate my first paying job while fearing I would mess it up. My best friends of over a decade were suddenly gone, moved away or busy.

It left me resentful and bitter, feeling like I was all alone again. I was terrified. Having started working at the Clarion in July 2019, I was already making fast friends with my coworkers. A D&D group seemed like a wonderful addition to my life. That was, for the first time in forever, not going 200 miles per hour with 15 extracurriculars. I didn’t know just how much I needed something like it.

It was never a question after the quarantine began that we would find any safe way possible to continue our game. And try we did. YouTube banned our livestream for copyright. Discord crashed practically anytime more than five of us used it. (To be fair they have done a system overall after the beginning of quarantine.) Google Hangouts never wanted to work and was just as bad as it was back in 2014. Skype has zero users but is still laggy.

Zoom is currently where we house our game and seems to be our long-term solution until the world is safe again. It hurts not seeing their faces weekly. It hurts when my crappy wifi drops me from a game, but we know it is the responsible thing to do. Keeping a 5-hour weekly distraction where I force myself to try not to look at the news, work, or school. Just five hours of hearing my friends weekly have done more good for me in quarantine than I could ever understand.

LeAnne McPherson

#my writing #d&d

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perpetual-stories · 3 years

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22 Essential Literary Devices and How to Use Them In Your Writing

hello, happy Monday. Hope you’re all having a wonderful day!

I will skip the pre-info and dive right into it.

What Is a Literary Device?

is a tool used by writers to hint at larger themes, ideas, and meaning in a story or piece of writing

The List of Literary Devices:

Allegory. Allegory is a literary device used to express large, complex ideas in an approachable manner. Allegory allows writers to create some distance between themselves and the issues they are discussing, especially when those issues are strong critiques of political or societal realities.

Allusion. An allusion is a popular literary device used to develop characters, frame storylines, and help create associations to well-known works. Allusions can reference anything from Victorian fairy tales and popular culture to the Bible and the Bard. Take the popular expression “Bah humbug”—an allusion that references Charles Dickens’ novella A Christmas Carol. The phrase, which is often used to express dissatisfaction, is associated with the tale’s curmudgeonly character, Ebenezer Scrooge.

Anachronism. Imagine reading a story about a caveman who microwaves his dinner, or watching a film adaptation of a Jane Austen novel in which the characters text each other instead of writing letters. These circumstances are examples of anachronisms, or an error in chronology—the kind that makes audiences raise their eyebrows or do a double-take. Sometimes anachronisms are true blunders; other times, they’re used intentionally to add humor or to comment on a specific time period in history.

Cliffhanger. It’s a familiar feeling: You’re on minute 59 of an hour-long television episode, and the protagonist is about to face the villain—and then episode cuts to black. Known as a cliffhanger, this plot device marks the end of a section of a narrative with the express purpose of keeping audiences engaged in the story.

Dramatic Irony. Remember the first time you read or watched Romeo and Juliet? The tragic ending of this iconic story exemplifies dramatic irony: The audience knows that the lovers are each alive, but neither of the lovers knows that the other is still alive. Each drinks their poison without knowing what the audience knows. Dramatic irony is used to great effect in literature, film, and television.

Extended Metaphor. Extended metaphors build evocative images into a piece of writing and make prose more emotionally resonant. Examples of extended metaphor can be found across all forms of poetry and prose. Learning to use extended metaphors in your own work will help you engage your readers and improve your writing.

Foreshadowing. At its core, storytelling has one ambition: to capture and sustain your reader’s attention and keep them reading your story. Foreshadowing, or slyly indicating a future event, is one technique a writer can use to create and build suspense.

Humor. Humor brings people together and has the power to transform how we think about the world. Of course, not everyone is adept at being funny—particularly in their writing. Making people laugh takes some skill and finesse, and, because so much relies on instinct, is harder to teach than other techniques. However, all writers can benefit from learning more about how humor functions in writing.

Imagery. If you’ve practiced or studied creative writing, chances are you’ve encountered the expression “paint a picture with words.” In poetry and literature, this is known as imagery: the use of figurative language to evoke a sensory experience in the reader. When a poet uses descriptive language well, they play to the reader’s senses, providing them with sights, tastes, smells, sounds, internal and external feelings, and even deep emotion. The sensory details in imagery bring works to life.

Irony. Irony is an oft-misunderstood literary device that hinges on opposites: what things are on the surface, and what they end up actually being. Many learn about dramatic irony through works of theater like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet or Sophocles’s Oedipus Rex. When deployed with skill, irony is a powerful tool that adds depth and substance to a piece of writing.

Metaphor, Simile, and Analogy. Metaphors, similes, and analogies are three techniques used in speech and writing to make comparisons. Each is used in a different way, and differentiating between the three can get a little tricky: For example, a simile is actually a subcategory of metaphor, which means all similes are metaphors, but not all metaphors are similes. Knowing the similarities and differences between metaphor, simile, and analogy can help you identify which is best to use in any scenario and help make your writing stronger.

Motif. A motif is a repeated element that has symbolic significance to a story. Sometimes a motif is a recurring image. Sometimes it’s a repeated word or phrase or topic. A motif can be a recurrent situation or action. It can be a sound or a smell or a temperature or a color. The defining aspect is that a motif repeats, and through this repetition, a motif helps to illuminate the central ideas, themes, and deeper meaning of the story in which it appears.

Motif vs. Symbol. Both motifs and symbols are used across artistic mediums: Painters, sculptors, playwrights, and musicians all use motifs and symbols in their respective art forms. And while they are similar literary terms, “motif” and “symbol” are not synonyms.

Oxymoron. An oxymoron is a figure of speech: a creative approach to language that plays with meaning and the use of words in a non-literal sense. This literary device combines words with contradictory definitions to coin a new word or phrase (think of the idiom “act naturally”—how can you be your natural self if you’re acting?). The incongruity of the resulting statement allows writers to play with language and meaning.

Paradox. “This sentence is a lie.” This self-referential statement is an example of a paradox—a contradiction that questions logic. In literature, paradoxes can elicit humor, illustrate themes, and provoke readers to think critically.

Personification. In writing, figurative language—using words to convey a different meaning outside the literal one—helps writers express themselves in more creative ways. One popular type of figurative language is personification: assigning human attributes to a non-human entity or inanimate object in an effort to express a point or idea in a more colorful, imaginative way.

Satire. Satire is so prevalent in pop culture that most of us are already very familiar with it, even if we don’t always realize it. Satire is an often-humorous way of poking fun at the powers that be. Sometimes, it is created with the goal to drive social change. Satire can be part of any work of culture, art, or entertainment—it has a long history, and it is as relevant today as it was in ancient Rome.

Situational Irony. Irony: it’s clear as mud. Theorists quibble about the margins of what constitutes irony, but situational irony is all around us—from humorous news headlines to the shock twists in a book or TV show. This type of irony is all about the gap between our expectations and reality, and it can make a memorable and powerful impression when we encounter it.

Suspense. No matter what type of story you’re telling, suspense is a valuable tool for keeping a reader’s attention and interest. Building suspense involves withholding information and raising key questions that pique readers’ curiosity. Character development plays a big role in generating suspense; for example, if a character’s desire is not fulfilled by the end of the book, the story will not feel complete for the reader.

Symbolism. An object, concept, or word does not have to be limited to a single meaning. When you see red roses growing in a garden, what comes to mind? Perhaps you think literally about the rose—about its petals, stem, and thorns, or even about its stamen and pistil as a botanist might. But perhaps your mind goes elsewhere and starts thinking about topics like romance, courtship, and Valentine’s Day. Why would you do this? The reason, of course, is that over the course of many generations, a rose’s symbolic meaning has evolved to include amorous concepts.

Verisimilitude. Verisimilitude (pronounced ve-ri-si-mi-li-tude) is a theoretical concept that determines the semblance of truth in an assertion or hypothesis. It is also an essential tenet of fiction writing. Verisimilitude helps to encourage a reader’s willing suspension of disbelief. When using verisimilitude in writing, the goal is to be credible and convincing.

Vignette. A writer’s job is to engage readers through words. Vignettes—poetic slices-of-life—are a literary device that brings us deeper into a story. Vignettes step away from the action momentarily to zoom in for a closer examination of a particular character, concept, or place. Writers use vignettes to shed light on something that wouldn’t be visible in the story’s main plot.

I’ll make a post going into each of them individually in more detail later on!

Like, reblog and comment if you find this useful! If you share on Instagram tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on tumblr and Instagram for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

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xebecatt2002 · 3 years

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"Gabrielle, Tell him. Do the Bard thing" Chariots of War

From the very first episode Gabrielle is introduced as a storyteller and straight away it is hard not to be impressed with the level of authenticity the writers give to Gabrielle’s skills as a Bard. Many of these stories she tells are based on fragments of authentic myths.

'Chariots of War', the second episode of the series, opens on Gabrielle telling Xena a story as they make their way to the bar in a village tavern. Though we only catch the ending of her story, there is still interesting details to unpick.

G: “And so, Zeus, in his appreciation, turned the two lovers into oak trees. And then do you know what happened?”

X: “Somebody built a boat out of them?”

G: “No-- their branches intertwined, and they spent the rest of their days in each other’s embrace.”

There are a lot of stories in Greek myth involving 'metamorphoses', the Greek word for ‘transformations’, with both gods and mortals turning into other things like plants or animals. The only story that comes close to the one Gabrielle tells is the story of Baucis and Philemon.

The complete version of the myth is only found in the work ‘Metamorphoses'. It is a collection of myths woven together into a narrative through their common theme of transformation. It was written by the Roman poet Ovid who lived between 43 BC and 17 AD, a period of Roman history which saw the end of the Roman Republic and the reign of the first Emperor, Augustus.

The gods Zeus and Hermes (known here in their Roman forms, Jupiter and Mercury) disguise themselves as mortals and travel across Greece. When they seek hospitality from the mortals they encounter, they find themselves turned away from every household until the come upon the simple home of Philemon and Baucis.

‘Looking for shelter and rest, they called at a thousand

homesteads;

a thousand doors were bolted against them. One

house, however,

did make them welcome, a humble abode with a roof

of straw

and marsh reed, one that new its duty to the gods and men.

Here good Philemon an Baucis had happily passed

their youth

and here they had reached old age, enduring their

poverty lightly

by owning it freely and being content with the little

they had.’

Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.628-635

Here the couple greet the strangers and offer up what little they have, providing them with the best of the meagre food and wine unknowing their true divine identities. Ovid goes in to quite a bit of detail describing the hospitality the couple offer especially the dishes that make up their feast during. While they entertain their guests the cups magically refill with wine.

‘Meanwhile, whenever the mixing-bowl got empty,

it seemed

To refill of its own accord, with the wine welling up by

itself.

Stunned and scared by this wonder, Philemon,

trembling, and Baucis

lifted their upturn hands to heaven and fervently

prayed

For forgiveness after serving so poorly prepared a repast.’

Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.679-682

Fearing they have offended their divine guest they seek to appease them by sacrificing their only goose. This leads to a comical scene with the elderly couple chasing the goose and failing to catch it. It appears to run towards to gods for safety which seems to work as the gods command them to spare the bird as they are grateful for what they have already provided.

They then proclaim that the couple will be spared from the punishment they will inflict of their impious neighbours who refused to honour the Greek custom of hospitality known as xenia (ξενία), a word derived from the Greek word for stranger xenos(ξένος). Sometimes referred to as 'ritualized friendship' the custom was based on generosity, courtesy and gift-giving that strengthen ties between people. In earlier times when it was thought that the gods walked among mortals it was even more important to respect these customs to avoid incurring the wrath of a visiting god. It would became seen as a moral obligation for both Guest and Host to show respect to each other.

Returning to Ovid's story, the couple leave their home with the gods and head to the safety mountains. There they witness the flood the gods send down to wipe out their impious neighbours. Nothing is spared except the couple’s home which undergoes its own transformation as it becomes a temple to the gods.

The gods offer to grant the couple anything they desire as reward. After deliberating with each other Philemon and Baucis ask to be guardians of the new temple and also, that when the time comes for them to die, that they die together so they don’t have to suffer the loss of their partner. After many years happy years together they are transformed into Trees. Philemon an Oak and Baucis a linden.

"We

ask

to be priests and to guard your temple; and since we

have passed our years

together in peace, let the same hour carry us off, so I

need not

look on my dear wife’s grave, nor she have to bury my

body."

Their wish was granted; as long as life was allowed

them, they served

as the temple’s guardians. When time had taken its

final toll,

and while they were casually standing in front of the

steps of the building,

telling the sanctuary’s history, both Philemon and

Baucis

witnessed their partner sprouting leaves on their worn

old limbs

As the tops of the trees spread over their lip sand concealed

them forever.

Still to this day the peasants of Phrygia point to the oak

and the linden nearby which once where the forms of

Philemon and Baucis.’ Ovid, Metamorphoses, 8.712-720

The devotion the couple have for each other is really endearing. You can really see why this story would appeal to a young Gabrielle who left her home and arranged marriage to find the true place she feels she belongs.

It is also an interesting choice of story to share with Xena, someone she’s just met who is aloof and independent. She’s eager to befriend the warrior but is finding her emotionally distant. This emotional distance is reflected in the physical distance between them. In these early episodes they have clearly defined personal spaces, such as sperate bedrolls, and they spend a lot of time apart as Gabrielle is left behind in a 'safe' location. You could read into this that just as Xena tries to keep distance between her and Gabrielle physically to protect her, she is trying to keep her emotionally distant for safety reasons as well. In some ways Gabrielle may understand this which is why she choses to tell this particular story to Xena. The old couple might seem weak and vulnerable but they are given strength by the devotion and support they have for each other. Gabrielle is trying to show her new friend that caring isn't a weakness but a source of strength by using this story as an example.

X: “What’s the point?”

G: “Come on, Xena. I believe everyone will find their tree in the forest someday-- even you.”

X: “I find the strongest trees in the forest stand alone.”

G: “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Xena; sometimes it’s good for the soul to be soft.”

This moment beautifully foreshadows the relationship that grows between Xena and Gabrielle throughout the series as both become entwined emotionally, spiritually and physically in a multiple of ways. There are moments that the imagery of the myth is invoked in such a way that Xena and Gabrielle symbolically become the lovers. Intentional or not by the writers it is a fantastic coincidence.

One episode that subtly does this is ‘The Abyss’ during one of its poignant cave scenes. After an encounter with cannibals Xena and an injured Gabrielle become tapped in a cave that is rapidly flooding. As Xena tries to get them out, Gabrielle tells Xena her final wish, that she wants to be buried with Xena.

X [Whispers]: "Gabrielle-- Gabrielle-- here-- here. The time's

come. We're getting you out of here, all right?"

G: "Oh."

X: "All right."

G: "Xena, I have a-- a last wish."

X: "I don't want to hear of it."

G: "No-- I'm serious. You don't want to know?"

X: "What is it, then?"

G: "I don't-- want to be buried-- with the Amazons."

X: "All right. Well, in fifty years, when the time comes."

G: "Xena-- I wanna lie with you-- with your family? In

Amphipolis."

X: "What about your family?"

G: "I love them-- but I'm a part of you. I want it to be like

that forever. I love you."

It is the climax of a series of intimate moments that are grounded in their love and devotion to each other. Gabrielle’s words cement their soulmate relationship. They are meant to be, and will be, together forever like the lovers of her story.

The context of this moment adds another layer to this allusion. As Gabrielle is affirming to Xena that she is a part of her, the warrior princess is preparing to save her injured partner by tying her to herself using vines. This nicely invokes images of Gabrielle’s story of the two lovers who becoming trees and entwining together. Also it connects with Ovid's tale of Philemon and Baucis as like the mythic couple, Xena cannot bear to witness the death of her partner. As Philemon and Baucis were spared that fate by being transformed into trees, Xena is using a plant to physically entwine her and Gabrielle to save her from death.

This climb up the ravine walls to escape the rising water could be reminiscent of Philemon's and Baucis' arduous climb up the mountain to escape the flood or just another coincidence. What perhaps isn't is that it is love and devotion that binds each couple together for eternity. Just like the lovers in the story Gabrielle tells in season one, and the myth it is based upon, Xena and Gabrielle will be together for eternity in each other's embrace.

Throughout the series there are a number of different ways Xena and Gabrielle become entwined together. As the emotional distance between them shrinks, the physical space seen in earlier episodes disappears and they begin to embrace each other. Not only is there a myriad of touches and hugs to connect them but while sitting, walking and even fighting they become inseparable.

They become so close that they pick up traits from each other and almost merge into one. This is such a vast topic to discuss it really needs its own post to explore in detail but the importance for this discussion is the idea that they merge into one entity. The idea that they become one is the connection with the myths and invokes the imagery of metamorphosis.

This metamorphosis becomes literal later in the series. In season 5’s ‘Succession’ during Ares’ contest to determine a worthy successor to Xena as his Chosen, he places Gabrielle and Xena into the same body. At dawn they discover that Gabrielle metamorphoses in to Xena and dusk, Xena into Gabrielle. This nicely alludes to Gabrielle’s story as they transform, much like the couple becoming entwine trees, two individuals become one entwined in each others bodies.

This physical metamorphoses happens in the series when it has become fully established that these two are soulmates, destined to be together for eternity. They are truly devoted to each other that they cannot be separated, just as the lovers cannot bear to be parted from each other even when they are transformed into trees.

As Gabrielle predicted at the end of her story, they both found their tree in the forest in each other.

Sources

Ovid, Metamorphoses

Whoosh.org, Episode Transcripts

Screen captures by myself

Thanks to Simjay on the Discord Xena group for the Gifs!

188 notes · View notes

princess-of-riviaa · 5 years

Text

Bewitching the Witcher part 2

Part 1

Summary: Geralt insists that what happened between you two was a one time thing, and it was a mistake. But at a ball in Cintra that the witchers and the bard are formerly invited to attend, you’re determined to prove to Geralt just how badly he needs you.

Series Summary: You and The Witcher aren’t meant to be together. In fact, the only thing you two should be doing is getting as far away from each other as fast as you can. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t. But he’s just too tempting to resist.

Authors note: Alternate universe (?) where women can be Witcher’s too, but all Witcher’s are forbidden from having romantic relationships. Also, the writer in me has forced me to do a lot of research for these chapters just to understand the time period better. By far the most entertaining research so far has been looking into the type of medieval dances that people did at balls such as the one in this chapter. Dancing has changed so much since then

Warning(s): jealous!Geralt, mastubrating (m), slight dom!Geralt, daddy!Geralt, oral sex (female receiving), a bit of Jaskier, um this is pretty damn long so sorry (3.9k words, writer me doesn’t know how to shut up)

“It is with pleasure that I, Queen Calanthe of Cintra, invite Witcher Geralt of Rivia, Witcher Y/N of Gesa, and Jaskier the bard of Redania to our annual Summer Solstice Ball.” Jaskier skipped over the rest of the invitation, not bothering to announce the insignificant details. He finally looked up to you and Geralt. “It’s tonight. And none of us have anything to wear.”

“We’re not going,” Geralt growled.

You and Jaskier turned on him.

“We have to,” you said. “The Queen of Cintra herself invited us.”

“You can’t say no to the queen,” Jaskier added.

Geralt kept his eyes on Jaskier as he said, “We have too many monsters to kill and not enough coin.”

“We can stop the killing for one night,” you said.

“We have enough money to buy a few nice things,” Jaskier said.

Geralt replied, “I’m not wasting our food money on a coat and pants,” Geralt huffed at Jaskier.

Jaskier gave a sassy, mischievous smile and patted the satchel around his shoulder. “No worries. I will. That’s why you made me in charge of our finances, right? So I could determine when we needed to spend money? And I declare tonight is just the time to do it.”

“Jaskier--” Geralt began, but Jaskier was already running down the street and towards the closest clothing store. Geralt cursed under his breath.

“You don’t say no to a queen, Geralt,” you said.

He was silent.

“How long are you going to ignore me?” you wondered.

Ever since that glorious night of hunting a berserker and fucking like animals right after, just feet away from the berserker’s corpse no less, Geralt had only spoken to you once. And it had only been to tell you that what had happened was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgement, a lack of willpower that led to an accident that never should have occurred. He made it clear that it would never happen again. And in the two weeks that had passed he’d kept his word. He hadn’t even come close enough to you to touch you. He’d barely even looked in your direction.

But tonight was going to change things. You were sure of that.

...

Geralt, Jaskier, and you stood in the back of the glorious ballroom to take in everything around you.

Jaskier had purchased a new outfit for himself--a gold and green jackets that went with his deep green pants--and he’d coerced Geralt into wearing the turquoise blue coat Jaskier had also bought that afternoon. He’d found you a dress the same color as Geralt’s jacket and claimed that the witchers should dress alike, and you actually liked it. The dress fit you well in all the right places and both Jaskier and Geralt had given you a double take when they first saw you in it.

Geralt hadn’t been able to hide the hunger in his eyes when he’d taken in the sight of you, his gaze moving slowly along and your body and making you burn with want. It was on rare moments when he forgot himself and he looked at you like that that made you remember the last time he touched you, the last time he’d been inside of you and made you come undone in his arms.

The musicians on the opposite end of the room began to play their harp and lute. Couples moved to the center of the room and began dancing as the soft chatter in the room died and the music rose louder.

You turned to the men beside you. Geralt was busy scanning the room for any sign of a threat. You noted how his eyes stayed far away from you. The realization sent a current of hurt and bitter determination through you. Jaskier, standing between you two, watched the musicians longingly, wanting to be beside them and playing. He noticed you watching him and frowned at you. You gave him a look, then nodded to the dancers.

“Do you... want to dance?” Jaskier guessed.

That made Geralt look over at you two with a frown. You weren’t a dancer. And you hated being anywhere near the center of attention. Everyone who wasn’t already dancing was watching the dancers in front of the dais and clapping along to the beat. Dancing would ensure that every eye was on you. Including Geralt’s.

So you looped your arm through Jaskier’s and said, “I’d love to dance with you, Jaskier,” before letting him whisk you away.

You two danced for what felt like a good hour, going back and forth between the Black Alman, Black Nag, and line dances. The dancing didn’t require intimate closeness, but you could still feel Geralt’s eyes following the two of you, and every time you threw a casual glance in his direction you noticed that he was tense, his jaw clenched and eyes burning on the sight of you beside Jaskier.

Jaskier noticed too. “He’s going to murder me for this, you know,” he said by your third dance, just loud enough for you to hear.

You calmly said, “Geralt won’t murder you. You’re the only friend he’s let himself have in the last one hundred years.”

Jaskier smiled slightly at the words. “You flatter me too much. I’m sure friend isn’t the first thing Geralt thinks of when he thinks of me.”

“He cares about you, Jaskier,” you assured him. “He’ll just never admit it out loud.”

You two were quiet until the dance finished. The musicians began another song and you began the first steps to the Black Alman again.

“What’s going on between you two?” Jaskier asked.

He didn’t have to specify. Between all the stolen glances you’d given Geralt in the last two weeks, and the way he’d been acting around you since that night, it was quiet obvious that something had happened.

“Not much so far,” was all you said.

The next step in the dance required Jaskier to come close to you as he walked in a circle around where you stood before coming to face you again. “I thought Witchers didn’t feel attracted to one another.”

“It’s not that we don’t,” you whispered. “It’s just that we can’t.”

Jaskier finished walking and stopped in front of you before grabbing your hand. “But you want to.”

It wasn’t a question. You had no doubt your longing for Geralt was obvious to anyone who wasn’t blind.

“He wants me too,” you said. “He just won’t admit it. He needs a little push.”

Jaskier looked between the two of you. “And having me dance with you is the little push?”

You smiled at him. “Don’t act like you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“I’d much rather be scouring out the dames here...” He admitted.

The song ended.

You smiled mischievously at him. “I might be able to help you out with that.”

And then you kissed him. In front of all the other dancers. In front of the royal family. In front of everyone else in the ballroom. But all you cared about was Geralt watching you. You wrapped your arms around Jaskier’s neck and pulled him closer to you. He was stiff against you out of shock, but it didn’t take long before he kissed you back. His hands moved to your hips and pulled you against him. Bloody fucking hell could Jaskier kiss. You weren’t expecting the skilled way his mouth moved against yours, like he’d done this a million times in the last week. But his touch didn’t make your toes curl or give you a head rush the way Geralt’s did. If anything, kissing Jaskier just made you realize how badly you really wanted The Witcher--enough to never want another man again.

When you pulled away, Jaskier was blushing. You almost laughed at the sight of the bard all tongue-tied over a mere kiss. He glanced around, and that was when you remembered that you two were in public. You felt your own face burn. Kissing Jaskier to make Geralt jealous was one thing, but to do it in public--to do it in front of the royal family was something else entirely.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but you were suddenly just as tongue-tied as Jaskier. You glanced at him. He stared at the floor and cleared his throat. Almost everyone in the room was watching you, surprised at your audacity.

“The wine must be getting to her.” Geralt’s voice. He was suddenly next to you, explaining away your actions to the queen before grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the ballroom.

As soon as you were in the hallway he shoved you against the nearest wall. He didn’t move towards you but you were also aware that his hands didn’t leave your shoulders.

“What the hell was that?!” he growled, his face inches from yours. His golden eyes were blazing.

“I wanted to kiss Jas,” you said, forcing yourself to sound calm, “so I did.”

He laughed bitterly. “You don’t want Jaskier.”

“And what do you know about who I want?” You spat. “You haven’t gone near me in weeks. What would you know about my wants or needs? Maybe I do want Jaskier. Maybe that wasn’t the first time I’ve kissed him. Maybe we’ve done a lot more than kiss--”

His mouth was on yours, hard and hot and fast. You gasped in surprise but didn’t dare push him away. Your eyes closed in pleasure as he pressed his tongue against your lips, forcing your mouth to part until you could taste him. His tongue tangled with yours, fighting for dominance. Suddenly his hands were on your hips, his fingers pressing into your dress, and you moaned in pleasure. Every inch of your body was on fire. Your hands came up to his neck and you tugged on the roots of his white hair. He growled. The feral sound made your toes curl and your hips bucked up to meet his. You could already feel how badly he wanted you.

��Geralt...” you moaned.

And just as quickly as it had started, he pulled away from you. His pupils were wide, his eyes more black than amber. He watched you, took in the sight of your face, your eyes, your swollen lips. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle on your skin before he forced himself to step back and breathed in deeply.

“You don’t want Jaskier,” he said before turning down the hall and walking away. He didn’t go back to the ball. Instead he headed in the direction of the room the royal family had given the three of you for the night in exchange of attending the ball.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest when he turned the corner and disappeared.

...

The rest of the night went slow. Every minute felt like an hour. You wanted to go up to your room and retire for the evening. You ached to go find Geralt and kiss him again, even if you had to beg for him to give in. But the royal family had requested your presence so they could have a Witcher keeping an eye on things. So you forced yourself to stay until the party ended an hour before dawn.

Jaskier had found an interested court woman by midnight. Apparently she’d seen you kiss Jaskier and, according to her, witnessed the desperate want on your face for him. And if a Witcher was desperate for just a kiss from Jaskier, the court woman wanted to know what other skills he had besides kissing. He had disappeared by the end of the party. You didn’t have to guess where he was.

You walked to your guest room by yourself. Your body physically ached from standing all night after the hour of dancing and your eyes burned. The bed called to you when you entered. It was empty. You neared it--

And then stopped. The bed was empty. Where the hell was Geralt?

You took off the small flats that had been squeezing your feet all night and then walked into the bathroom. You wanted to wash the ridiculous makeup off your face and hoped a warm bath would ease the tension in your muscles.

You stopped in the doorway. Geralt sat in the huge tub, steam rising above him from the scalding hot water. His eyes were closed. He didn’t see you, nor had he heard you enter. You took in the sight of his muscled chest and arms. You almost whimpered at the glorious sight of him. His right hand was hidden under the water, and from the way he frowned and parted his lips, you had no doubt about what he was doing. He let out an occasional groan of pleasure. Heat rose in your stomach at the sight of him jacking himself off. Had your kiss done this to him?

You neared the edge of the tub and cleared your throat. Geralt jumped, his eyes widening as he noticed you for the first time. He was frozen like a deer caught in headlights, knowing full well that you had just caught him masturbating. You took advantage of the moment to untie your dress and let it fall to your feet. Geralt couldn’t keep himself from taking in the sight of you greedily, his eyes stopping on the curve of your breasts.

Before he could think to move you dipped into the water and walked towards him. He didn’t tell you to stop or move away. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. You didn’t stop until you were straddling his lap. The hard length of his cock pressed against your stomach as you rested your arms on his shoulders. He couldn’t look away from you.

“I don’t want Jaskier. I want you, Geralt,” you whispered, then leaned in to kiss his neck and whisper into his ear, “Tell me you still want me too.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, still not daring to move.

You tugged on his ear. His hands instantly went up to your back, his thumb coming around to your hip bone.

“I thought fucking you once would get it out of my system,” you confessed. “That’s why I told you how I felt that night. That’s why I did what I did. Because I thought the wanting, the aching... I thought it would go away if I just gave myself what I wanted.”

You pulled back to look him in the eye.

He was frowning at you, looking pained.

You watched as your thumb moved across his cheek and his bottom lip. “But the wanting hasn’t stopped. It’s just grown. I can’t ever get you out of my head. You haunt my dreams, too. I can’t get away from you, from the memory of you touching me. Of you being inside of me. I don’t just want you anymore. I need you.”

Before he could say anything, you kissed him. It wasn’t like the kiss in the hall. It was slow and gentle. He didn’t kiss you back, though. His mouth was stiff against yours.

You pulled back. A knot formed in your throat. He wanted you, but his willpower was strong enough that he would say no to you until the day he died. Even with you straddling his lap, even with you naked on his lap, he would say no.

Maybe you weren’t enough for him.

Maybe he didn’t completely ache for you the way you did him.

Maybe this fire didn’t consume him and burn him down to the bone like it did you.

Maybe that night had just been fucking to him.

“Witchers aren’t meant to be together,” he said. “There’s a reason.”

You wanted to scream. Tears began falling down your face. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t help it. “I know that! I’ve been warned just as many times as you have, Geralt. You think I’m here because I think it’ll be fun? You’re consuming me, Geralt. I can’t fucking breathe without you! I’m here because not touching you, not seeing you, it’s driving me fucking mad.”

He brought his hands up to cup your face, the water dripping from his fingers onto your hair. He pulled you towards him until your forehead rested against his. The breath he released touched your lips and your body burned even hotter.

“This won’t end well,” he whispered.

You sniffed. “I know.”

You both sat there for a moment. You reigned in your tears and sniffed as his hands played with your hair. His eyes never left yours.

“I want you, Y/N,” he finally admitted.

Your breath caught in your throat. You’d been imagining what those words would sound like. You imagined him saying your name with that same longing in his voice. But your imagination couldn’t have prepared you for the real thing. His voice, your name on his tongue--it was so glorious it was sinful.

“I can’t breathe without you, either,” he continued. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat... I’m going insane, too. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about touching you again, or how badly I’ve wanted to make you moan and writhe in the pleasure that I’m giving you... gods above, you’ve no idea how badly I’ve wanted to be inside of you again.”

“Why the hell did you wait two weeks to tell me that?” You breathed against his mouth.

He shut his eyes, that pained look returning to his face. “Because for as much as I want you, I’m just as terrified. Somehow I know this is going to end up hurting you, and the thought of you in pain...”

You cupped his face and waited until he looked at you again. “I’m in pain now, Geralt.” You kissed him softly, quickly. “Please. Please.”

When he kissed you, you melted into him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as you could possibly be. You kissed down the side of his neck to the spot that had made him lose control last time. His cock twitched against your stomach, growing even harder. His fingers dug into your skin with a sweet pain. Your hand disappeared under the water and you wrapped your hand around his cock and moved your fist up and down along his length. The moan he released made your toes curl.

He pushed on your hips, pushing you away from him. You whimpered.

“Geralt,” you sighed.

“As much as I don’t want you to stop touching my cock,” he said against your mouth, “I want to make you feel good first.”

You gasped as he rose to his feet, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. He held onto you as he got out of the tub and moved to the bedroom, his muscles hardly straining with the effort.

He was careful as he lied you down on the bed and hovered over you. You kissed him hard and he kissed you back just as fiercely before pulling away and kissing his way down your body. You gasped when his mouth clasped around your left breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple. His other hand massaged the other one as you moaned when he pinched your other nipple between his fingers, your hands automatically moving to cling to his hair. His other hand moved to your thighs and you instantly parted your legs, wanting him to touch you. He got the message. His fingers ran between the slick folds of your pussy and you could both hear how wet you already were.

“You’re always so wet for me, Y/N,” Geralt growled before moving his mouth to your right breast.

Intense pleasure kept you from replying. His fingers made small circles on your clit, making your legs clench.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, feeling a burning sensation in your stomach start to grow. “Geralt, I’m gonna--”

“Come for me, baby girl,” he said before kissing you roughly.

His pet name for you was your undoing. You came, your entire body trembling as you gasped into his mouth. His fingers continued to move against your clit as he helped you through your high. You gasped and breathed his name against his lips. He kissed you for a moment before rising up and moving between your legs. You’d pictured him fucking you so often in the last two weeks that your body shook with nervous excitement now that it was actually happening. He moved his cock between your folds, covering himself in your wetness.

“I need you inside of me,” you whined. “Fuck me, Geralt.”

He didn’t need anymore encouragement. He pushed the tip of his cock inside of you and you groaned. It didn’t take as long for you to adjust to his size this time around and he pushed further into you. He leaned down to kiss you as he filled you to the brim. Your walls clenched around him, the mere feeling of him inside of you nearly pushing you over the edge again.

“You gotta relax, baby, or I’m gonna cum right now,” he warned.

You forced your muscles to relax and your pussy slowly loosened its grip on his cock. He moved in and out of you so slowly it drove you crazy. Only once he moved to lean over you, his mouth connecting with yours, did he begin to move faster. You swallowed each others moans as he fucked you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. He kissed you even harder.

“You feel so fucking good around me, baby girl,” he muttered.

You whimpered. You didn’t know what it was about that pet name but it made you even wetter. Your walls clenched around his cock and he slowed his pace.

“Faster,” you begged. “Faster, daddy.”

The name took both of you by surprise. You gasped as soon as you said it, fearing how he would react, but he began pounding into you hard enough to make your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“Like that, baby girl?” he huffed, then groaned as he felt your walls clench even tighter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned.

“Cum around daddy’s cock, baby girl,” he muttered, pounding into you even harder.

You screamed as your back arched and your vision went back. “Geralt, fuck!” You came around his cock and a second later you felt his hot cum pour out inside of you.

You breathed heavily as you both came down from your highs. He didn’t move, just ran a hand down your stomach.

“I love you,” you breathed. Only once the words had been said did you realize that they were true. You loved Geralt. You loved him madly.

He was quiet as he pulled out of you and lied down beside you. He kissed your cheek and you moved to rest your head on his chest. You fell asleep to the sound of his slow heart, his fingers drawing small, soothing circles on the small of your back. You felt like you’d come home.

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt the witcher #netflix the witcher #the witcher smut #geralt smut #geralt of rivia smut #jaskier #the witcher #henry cavill witcher #henry cavill smut #henry cavill

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

Text

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 12

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because I guess we’re going to Ha’rar now? Unless Kylan finds something super cool in that book he checked out from the Aughra Library.

Last times in book: Kylan, Naia, Tavra, and Gurjin visited Aughra on High Hill to enlist her help in warning all Gelfling about the Skeksis. She’s less than helpful. But she does let Kylan take a random book he picked up.

Chapter 12

Kylan reads a fun story about a flute, Gurjin splits the party

The disappointed Gelfs stop to camp and Kylan reads the heck out of the book. He reads so hard that he decides to write just for a change of pace.

To give his mind a break, he prepared his own scrolls and worked on the day’s record, recalling as many details as he could before the memories faded. In his journal, the memory of the orrery could be preserved forever. Their journey there could be smoothed over. Their interaction with Aughra could be just a stumble on their path to ultimate success. All it would take were more chapters to show that this dark disappointment was not the end, but just some dimmer part in the middle. Maybe it was better that way.

No, Kylan decided mid-etching, it is better. No maybes about it.

And so he wrote it into the diary that way to make sure that any future readers would understand it to be so.

Good attitude, Kylan!

Disappointing episodes in your life just contrast more with the cool stuff, clearly.

That said, I wonder what happens to Kylan’s journal when all is said and done in these books. That’d be a good loose end to pick up.

Naia and Gurjin head off in opposite directions to go catch dinner, because sibling rivalry.

Kylan gets back to book and Tavra makes small talk while tying up a laundry line super good.

“Found anything yet? I’ve never seen a Gelfling read so studiously, even among those who could.”

“I’ll probably never be a warrior like everyone else in my clan, but I might as well hone the few skills I have.”

Kylan tries to follow suit by praising her sweet knot tying skills but she just agrees that she has skills with which to pay the bills and then wanders off into the wood, leaving Kylan alone at the campsite.

As the suns set, Kylan continues reading the old book. Which is a disorganized experience. The book is all jumbled up with little apparent rhyme or reason. It’ll jump from recording a feast at a village to a detailed study of the biology of a suri-wing including diagrams. And its in several languages, of which Gelfling is just one.

But Kylan finds a passage that at least puts a name to the writer.

Mother forgot my name today.

I had to remind her: “Raunip. Raunip, Mother!”

I cried, “The name you gave me!”

How could she forget?”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Raunip!

Aughra’s son!

Talk about drawing stuff from Creation Myths!

I think most people reading this post know his deal and also maybe its going to be a plot twist in this book where his journal has become a hot topic.

She has been consumed with the heavens. The heavens, and the shard, buried deep underground. She will not admit that neither above nor below will heal this sickness. Only we of Thra can be the antidote; and to heal our world, we must purge it of those outsiders who have taken our heart captive.

Good ol’ Raunip and his pretty xenophobic tendencies actually.

Kylan gets so into reading the book that he forgets that he was reading it for a reason. But he comes to a passage that brings him to his sense.

“The song of the Heart of Thra can sing the hollow bone from the bell-bird wing.”

That is so close to a title drop. Its just super close.

The passage talks about a Gelfling called Gyr the Song Teller who crafted a firca (a forked flute, like the one Jen has) from the forked bone of a bell-bird’s wing. Then Gyr the Song Teller played on this firca in the Caves of Grot.

Playing this special firca caused the words to every song Gyr knew to be dream-etched across the walls. And the Grottan Gelfling protected the songs, and the other lore of the Gelfling people.

Hey, keepers of the lore isn’t a bad clan hat to have!

The story smacks of the fantastical to Kylan since dream-etching is a painstaking and slow process and the bell-birds long extinct. He considers that the story is a mythologization of the invention of writing.

But what if it were real?

He feels like it could be real.

He decides to tell Naia about this. It could be the random hope they were hoping for.

After dark, Naia and Gurjin return, and have a fish measuring contest. Since Tavra is still gone, Kylan shows Naia and Gurjin the story.

“It was used to do a hundred dream-etchings at once in the Caves of Grot. Gyr the Song Teller did it just by playing the firca. The music echoes through the cave and etched the words on all the stone it touched.”

“Is this a song, or truth?” Naia asked. “If it’s true... Kylan, could you use such a thing to write our warning about the Skeksis? We wouldn’t have to do it one message at a time, we could do so many at once. So many the Skeksis wouldn’t be able to stop every one.”

Isn’t there still the problem of most Gelfling being illiterate? I guess maybe you could do it in pictures. I’m pretty sure dream-etching can do pictures.

That said, the firca of Gyr the Song Teller is a pretty cool magic artifact for the setting, huh?

Cool bard from ages ago made a flute out of a bird and it lets you write multiple things at a time. It’s not the one ring of power or Mjolnir but it feels like it fits well with the setting.

The book says the firca was left with the Grottan and there’s an entrance to the Caves of Grot not too far from where they are. Its a pretty convenient thing, really.

Although Gurjin is wondering whether the Grottan are even still around.

They’re even more reclusive than the Drenchen, and are practically considered a myth themselves.

There’s no solid evidence that the firca (or the Grottan) are real but Kylan decides to trust his gut like Naia taught him.

“It’s possible the bone firca doesn’t actually exist, but maybe Aughra knows better. Maybe she sent the book with us for that reason... Or maybe it has nothing to do with Aughra. Either way, I just have the feeling that we should go. I wish i had more proof, but the feeling is all I have.”

Naia agrees that they should go.

So I guess Naia isn’t going to Ha’rar after all! She may never go there at this rate, ha.

This is putting me in mind of playing a game like Skyrim and just getting way sidetracked with all the sidequests. Can’t go to the throat of the world, there’s a magic flute in a cave, you understand.

Anyway, Naia and Gurjin have come to another decision as well.

They’re going to split the party!

Dangit, I like having Gurjin around!

But Naia raises the point that if the Skeksis are going to be coming after them both for their twin goo, there’s no sense in making it easier for them by having them in the same place. She just wants Kylan’s opinion on it.

Kaylan [sic] felt touched that she sought his opinion at all, even if he hardly knew what the say after being ambushed with their bold plan.

Kylan asks where Gurjin would go and Naia says he’d go back to the Sog where he can hide with family and recover with Momdra Laesid’s super healing. And not stated but the Skeksis have pretty much never been to the Sog and probably won’t start now if they can help it.

It’s hard to traverse on foot, as Tavra found out.

Plus also, if the Skeksis are chasing after Rian, they’ll be heading to Ha’rar, pretty much the opposite direction of the Sog.

And Gurjin’s familiar enough with the Dark Wood that he can travel through it and avoid the Skeksis. Naia will even send Neech with him to help him out.

Good plan, twins!

Kinda bummed still that we’re losing Gurjin and Neech to this good plan.

For a while, I thought it was going to be a rad journey with Rian, Naia, and Kylan. Then Rian ditched and Tavra and Gurjin showed up. Now its going to be Naia, Tavra, and Kylan which is also a hilarious grouping.

The reason why they don’t want Tavra to know is that she’s going to kick up such a fuss. But if Gurjin is gone before she knows it, she’ll have to choose between chasing Gurjin or chasing Rian and Rian is going to Ha’rar where Tavra wants to go too.

“She’ll be mad we didn’t have her approval, but I think you’re right, and maybe she’ll understand once it’s done. If Gurjin can get back to Sog, then at least someone will have made contact with the Drenchen.”

Gurjin and Naia nodded in unison.

“I’ll leave tonight, when it’s my watch,” he said. He extended his hand, and Kylan took it. “It was very good to meet you, Kylan the Song Teller. I’m glad my sister met you.”

Aww!

And hey, good additional point! Gurjin can start spreading some truth treason against the Skeksis.

Great plan, twins!

Tavra returns and Kylan feels nervous having to keep all these secrets from her but feels more like its her he’s nervous about more than the lying or obfuscation. There’s something just off about her and Kylan hopes that there’s some cure in Ha’rar for what the Skeksis did to her.

*cough* spiders

Anyway.

... she sat on the far side of the fire and began weaving her damp hair into a braid. In the firelight, her single earring cast sparkles on her pale neck, and Kylan wished he could find the right words to untangle whatever caused the animosity radiating from her. If only there were a song that could touch her heart, the way one had touched Rian’s -- but not every problem could be solved with a song.

Lies.

Also, earring still making me super suspicious.

Kylan anxieties himself to sleep worrying whether the future truly is immutable and whether Tavra will arrest them for treason for letting Gurjin sneak off but is woken up by Gurjin putting a hand on his shoulder and dreamfasting with him before he sneaks away.

Until we meet again, brother Kylan. Be safe.

Awwwwwwwww! Best friends!

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Tavra #Gurjin

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years

Text

Where Time Takes Us

Destination - Part 1

- - - - - - - - - -

Watch the home while she is off to war

The Slumber King versus the rearing boar

Awake, arise, do not be blind

To tales and destinies entwined

In the world we said that we would leave behind

— excerpt from folk song, The World Behind, writer unknown, dated back to the Era of Myth

- - - - - - - - - -

6 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days before the Hyrule Castle Slaughter, the Akkala Citadel Massacre, the slaying of the Champions, the death of the hero, and the rise of Calamity Ganon...

Her job ends on doomsday.

She should be working, and truly she wanted to, but circumstances had led her to walk towards the echoing laughter.

Already trying to prepare the quip she would throw back at them, (as undoubtedly they’d complain about her being late again), the researcher weaved through the familiar roads of West Castle Town. Most of the houses were dark, with the only light source coming from the occasional flickering lantern, and the pale complexion of the midnight moon. Needless to say, it made the warm glow of The Adequate’s Tavern stand out all the more as she approached.

Another roar of laughter and shouts escaped from an open window on the south side of the pub. The bags under her eyes curved with her smile as she recognized one of the voices. She absentmindedly traced her fingers along the outer walls of the tavern as she walked, loose chips of faded blue paint falling to the pavement below. The wooden sign above the door creaked with its askew weight. The Adequate’s Tavern was printed in bold, blue letters atop a faded yellow outline. The missing e’s and t’s gave evidence to the building’s true quality.

Pushing open the door, the researcher was met with a swirl of familiar scents, ranging from alcohol, apples, bread, and leather, along with a smokiness coming from the fireplace near the back of the bar.

Closing the door behind her, she walked through the entrance, passing under a wooden overhang, and alongside a long, stone-slated bar counter. She overheard a conversation between the barkeep and a waiter.

“Yes, they’re here again, so get out there already!”

“The scientists?” the waiter asked.

The man started shoving her towards the storage door behind the bar. “Yes, yes, now hurry up and stock up on that apple cider. I’ve already turned four full pitchers from the three of them, and the fourth is no doubt on the way. We can turn a bigger profit from those kids than any random alcoholic that stumbles in here tonight!”

The waiter disappeared into the back, and the barkeep was left muttering by the counter. Chuckling to herself, the researcher moved away, starting to search for the scientists in question. Other than a single, beige wall that separated the edge of the bar with a support beam in the middle of the room, the pub was very open and lively. Square and circular tables were littered across the floor in mismatched patterns, ranging from oak brown to birch white. Clearly, aesthetic was not the centerpoint of the place.

She walked about the pub, scanning the faces of the men and women alike who crowded by the booths and tables. The tavern mainly housed a sea of Hylians, who let out the occasional drunken laugh, or hearty chuckle. It was a miracle she could hear her thoughts at all, as the air was rich with the sound of clattering dishware and the patter of dancing feet, as in a small corner to the left was a semi-circle stage housing a small band. A Hylian man with umber dark skin, much like her own, blew away at a Lurelin-made, seashell harmonica. To his left, a blonde woman extended her arm in quick and elegant strokes with a bow and fiddle. Two others struck away on small drums and bells, and the playful gig they performed had gotten several people up from their feet to dance for Hylia knows how long. The music wasn’t terrible, but she had heard better, from a certain Sheikah in particular...

As if fate had read her thoughts, she finally caught sight of her friends.

It hindsight, it was easy enough to expect the bard to be at the table closest to the stage. Yet, it was probably the three heads of cloud white, Sheikah hair that gave them away the quickest. A young teenage boy sat across a square table from two other Sheikah, a boy and a girl. He was looking at nothing in particular, as he plucked away at his lute, presumably tuning it. Wrapped around his head was a small cluster of green wooden beads, woven with brown string. They dotted like a line of stars in his fluffy, white hair, alternating between pine and sage shades. The knot tying the strings and beads around his head hung loosely like vines just by his right ear. He was just asking to look like a starstruck, homeless traveler, if it weren’t for the bright red cape pinned across his shoulders. The golden, Hyrulean emblem holding the crimson cloth together signified his status as an important worker of the palace. Although, no one would be surprised that this thin, skinny teenager was a bard and court poet, and not a royal knight.

Suddenly, the bard looked up and met her gaze, a pair of warm, red eyes catching the light of familiarity. He patted the empty seat next to him and said something to the other two Sheikah in front of him. One of them looked back, a young man with storm wild hair that seemed to part like lightning. He had a beige, long sleeve coat over a red tunic, as was the classic Sheikah style. However, the style of his white jacket told of his rank as a scientist. With chocolate eyes and a contagious grin, he nudged the girl next to him and fake coughed.

The young woman wore roughly the same outfit, although she had a navy blue skirt and boots compared to the other guy’s black pants and shoes. Her eyes were also red, albeit, with a more striking scarlet color, compared to the other boy’s warmer wine shade. Looking back, she adjusted her bright, Sheikah red, round, sparkly, diamond decorated glasses, complete with white accents that matched her hair. It was pulled in a messy bun, a hairstyle that her close friends knew was less for looks, and more for practical purposes, as supposedly, “the stupid strands always find ways to bother my eyes. No, stop, I don’t need a comb! My eyeballs are just sensitive, okay?”

Pivoting past a waiter, the researcher finally moved closer to the trio, brushing her curly dark hair above her shoulders as she prepared for the sarcasm to begin.

The stormy eyed scientist spoke first.

“Purah, Purah! Is that...a ghost I see? It looks like Adello, but I feel like I haven’t seen her in a century, I surely thought her dead! Am I being…haunted?”

Purah turned in her seat and gave a fake gasp. She adjusted her red rimmed glasses at the sight of her. “You’re right, Robbie! I’ve heard about these spirits. They only come at midnight under a full moon, and they appear when you have friends that don’t know how to time manage and haunt you by coming to your birthday party with their terrible fashion sense 45 minutes late!” She clapped her hands along with the syllables of “45 minutes” to let her point be known.

Robbie awed at Adello in sarcastic wonder, and the boy across from him exhaled out of his nose with a smile.

Adello put a hand on her hip. “Save your breath, I was just working a bit overtime on the Divine Beast sketches. You know, work? For the jobs that we all have? So we can pay our taxes and shit? Unfortunately, not all of us have fancy salaries Mrs. Royal Scientist.”

Purah turned to Robbie, pulling down her glasses and looking at him sternly. “See, this is another trait of these kinds of spirits. They’re cursed to only say excuses for eternity.”

He shook his head. “Coupled with the fact that their fashion only ever consists of one color? Truly, a terrible fate for a ghost indeed.”

Adello narrowed her eyes. Smoothing out her juniper colored tunic, she said, “Okay, first off, green is a great color on me, it pairs well with my skin tone. You’re both just blind, no wonder you need glasses.” Purah put a hand on her chest dramatically, but she continued. “Plus, I’d really rather not get fired since that ceremony thing with those Champions is tomorrow and, as you all know, I just got that promotion.”

The researcher propped a black leather boot up on the empty chair by the table, flipping her jet black hair dramatically. “How does it feel to be in the presence of someone with an actual on-the-field career?”

Purah stuck out her tongue, and Robbie cupped his hands and booed. However, the boy sitting on the other side of the fourseated table gave a celebratory strum of his lute, giving Adello’s pose a bright background flourish with a few upbeat chords.

She winked. “Thank you Zimiri, at least someone can recognize skill.” The bard gave a little bow with his head, grinning. “A few chords is all it takes to enhance a dramatic, late night entrance.”

Adello chuckled, finally sitting down in the empty seat beside him. The old oaken chair and floor creaked under the new weight. Robbie let out a huff.

“You kids need to learn to respect your elders.” He announced the word “respect” with the tip of his tongue. The researcher rolled her eyes.

“Ah yes, a whole one year gap between us. What astounding age and experience that these elders emit.” She gestured at Robbie and Purah with a sweep of her arm.

“Uh, excuse me, but I believe in my case it’s now double that. A whole two years, my dear, naive child. For as of 4 hours ago, I now emit the knowledge of an existence spanning two decades!” Now it was his turn to pose dramatically, pointing towards the ceiling.

Everyone at the table groaned, turning to occupy themselves with something else. Purah started writing in her journal which she pulled out from her satchel, and Adello started to become very interested with the ceiling. Zimiri continued to pluck nothings on his lute.

Robbies crossed his arms, his white long sleeves folding across the Sheikah red shirt underneath. “Oh I see! So when Adello brags, she gets a musical accompaniment, but when I do it, it’s suddenly annoying and embarrassing?”

Adello smirked to herself, and answered, “Yep, that’s how it goes!”

“Alright, you don’t get to speak, Miss I-don’t-know-how-to-be-punctuation!”

Purah promptly smacked Robbie over the head with a pen.

“Hey! W—”

“The word is punctual, you idiot.”

Robbie slumped his shoulders and made a face. He tapped his thumb and fingers together, mimicking the opening and closing of a mouth while he muttered mockingly in Purah’s tone under his breath.

Purah finished off a note in her journal before turning to the rest of the table. “Alright Adello, time to catch up. We’ve been playing ‘Till You Spill and I’ve already got some juicy stuff in here!”

Turning the pages of her journal towards Adello, she gave a chaotic grin. “Last round, Zimiri revealed that he once got teary eyed in front of the King himself after reading a poem about clouds.”

Zimiri raised his hands in defense. “Look, the clouds were an analogy for lost childhood innocence and I got choked up with that author’s amazing choice of imagery and descriptions, okay?”

Purah pointed her pen at him to hush, and continued. “Of course, him being a sentimental dork isn’t anything new, so he lost that round to Robbie who revealed the identity of his first crush.”

Zimiri muttered something about the game being rigged towards the birthday boy, but Adello talked over him, excitedly.

“Ooohhhh? Robbie?? Who are they?” She propped up her elbows and cradled her chin in her hands, excited at the prospect of more embarrassing information she could hang over his head.

He mumbled, looking to Purah for assistance, but she only cupped a hand over her ear, waiting for him to respond. “You all fuckin—” he sighed, “it’s…she’s…c-ch…” he avoided everyone’s gaze, “her name is...Cherry…”

Adello gasped, gleefully. “That girl from your old university?? The writer you hung out with!?”

Purah beamed, shaking Robbie’s shoulders excitedly. “I know right???” She loosened her grip and allowed him to wiggle out of her grasp for a moment. “Oh sweetie, campus days may be long gone for all of us prodigies and geniuses,” she flipped a few strands of her white hair with a turn of her head, “but I’m sure you’ll get her someday. You just gotta turn up the charm, find a way to woo with words. I’m sure writers love that.” Purah pulled down her glasses and gave a forced wink at him.

Adello tried to hold her tongue to no avail. “Pffft. Yeah, you can try wooing her with your punctuation.” This got a snicker out of Purah, and caused the birthday boy to blush furiously and slump further in his seat. Zimiri finally spoke up.

“Now, now, let’s all play nice. We don’t need to pester him further about it, he did win the round after all.”

“Uh, yeah. Speaking of the game, you still need to drink up, mister.” Purah slid a tan brown cup of apple cider towards him, the translucent contents sloshing around like muck in a gutter.

He leaned on the back two legs of his chair. “Isn’t it punishment enough to smell it? The cider isn’t even near my face and my mouth is already burning.”

She shrugged. “Them's the rules of ‘Till You Spill. Your secret sucked, so swig!”

The poet groaned, but complied. Tipping the cup towards his lips, Zimiri took a hearty slurp of the cider, much to everyone’s amusement. It felt like hot, molten copper mixed with old apple skins. How could something both burn and freeze your throat at the same time? He let out a gag, to which Adello patted him on the back with a short laugh.

Raising his posture, Robbie crowed, “When we finally have Zimiri’s birthday maybe then we’ll actually upgrade to the alcohol.”

Adello raised an eyebrow. “Uh, right, because the upgrade from disorientingly strong, smelly apple cider, is you two being flat out drunk. Right...”

Purah slammed both her fists down with pride, letting the cups and pitchers slosh a few amber colored drops onto the worn wooden table. “Bold of you to assume I’d drink at all, considering I’ve never lost a round! Mwahaha!” She blew a raspberry at her. “This tongue is apple free, baby.”

She gestured with her pinky and index finger at Zimiri and Adello. “Now, you two! The late combatant and the latest loser shall spill next. Give us your juicy gossip!!”

The bard, still reeling from his drink, leaned back in his chair and gave a nod toward Adello. “Ladies first?”

While she wasn’t undefeated in this drinking game, she sure as hell was playing to win. Especially since somebody needed to knock that smug expression off of Purah’s face. Adello thought to herself quickly.

Zimiri, no doubt, is probably gonna say something self-deprecating again, as he’s too nice to actually reveal anything embarrassing about anyone else. So...I just need to say something unexpected and interesting...perhaps something embarrassing about...hmm, I’ve already exhausted all my info about those cushy nobles and guards in past rounds…

Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. “The princess has a secret stuffed animal collection.” Seeing the light in her co-workers’ eyes twinkle, Adello knew she had chosen her words well. Purah leaned in. “Ooh? And how did you come across this juicy piece of information?” She rested her chin on an arm with an innocent smile.

“When I sent my application for the new job a few weeks ago, I gave it to the princess directly. It was late at night, and I bumped into her as she just left her room. The door was cracked open for a few seconds, before some royal, pompous guard slammed it right in my face. Yet, it wasn’t before I saw the pile of,” she counted on her fingers, “cow, sheep, bird, dog, and several horse stuffed animals piled high by her big, blue bed. I bet if I peeked for just a few more moments I could have found enough to pin her as a true horse girl.”

Robbie shrugged his shoulders, unconsciously rapping the table with his finger. “Well, speaking as a horse guy myself, I can attest to the fact that the childhood horse obsession phase never leaves, so I find Princess Zelda’s collection quite admirable.” He gave a nod towards Zimiri. “Either way, it’ll be tough to top that, Zim. Cute, yet slightly concerning, fact about our future queen? Quite the competition. Shall I signal the waiter for a refill now?”

Zimiri plucked a few more strings from his lute, before finally setting it down on the floor. He tilted his head, playfully. The string with sage green beads seemed to sway with the tavern’s music, and he spoke with a glint in his eyes. “Well, I might be faced with impending failure and ultimate defeat, but hells if I’m not one to try instead of mope.”

He combed his fingers through his messy, white hair, pondering his next choice of words. Fiddling with the beads and strings wrapped around it, he thought out loud.

“Let’s see...to top out on an embarrassing fact about a respected princess...it's natural to combat it with something...personal? That always seems to be the more valuable information in this game…” Adello shook her head. He was playing right into her hand.

“Well...Robbie won last round with the identity of Cherry...so, how about I dish out something similar. See, I’ve...uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Oh! Well. Court poet, shrine researcher, the job gets you close with the princess...kinda...I’d like to think we’re close anyhow…” He mumbled the last part of his sentence and let out a short cough. Then, he went back to fiddling with his short, messy hair.

“So… ever since I moved into the castle, When did my mom move… five years now? I’ve, uh… had a crush on... Zelda…” He gave an uncertain grin, and raised the palm of his hands as if to ask, “well?”

At first he was met with silence. In his head, he started to celebrate the victory of his first ‘Till You Spill round in literal months. That was until he was met with groans and pitiful mutters.

“Oh Zimiri,” Purah sighed, “I was rooting for you too.” Seeing the bewilderment creep onto the poet’s face, Robbie answered the question before it even escaped his lips. “Literally everyone here knew that bud, it’s not a secret.”

The bard started to sputter, moving his hands in wild, questioning motions.

“But? Wha— I? You!? Didn’t you— I… W-Well I mean, I know Adello knew, I told her years ago, but you guys—”

“Oh my gods. Zimiri, you literally talk about her all the time, you’re totally in love. Given that we’re also the recipients of your long spiels and ballads about how ‘intelligent and thoughtful and amazing Zelda is,’” Purah said the words to mimic the tone of Zimiri’s honey sweet voice, “it’s exceptionally, extremely, very, very obvious.”

“R-Recognizing a person’s positive traits doesn’t instantly mean in love!”

The royal scientist leaned across the table and patted his head. “Right, but you also started attempting love songs a coincidental 2 weeks after starting your job of shrine research with her. Your eyes are already red, so whenever she passes by it’s like your pupils magically form into adoring hearts. Try to stay away from poker, it’s for your own good.”

Zimiri continued to sputter, his cheeks becoming roser by the second. Robbie turned to Purah. “So, all in favour of finding Adello’s spill better than Zimiri’s?” The two of them raised their hands in unison. “Alright buddy, secret sucked, so swig! WAITER PLEASE!”

Adello watched as the same woman she had seen near the bar earlier made her way to the table. Picking up a pitcher, she poured out a fresh cup of Adequate’s Apple Cider. The four of them had been here so many times, they didn’t even need to verbally ask for the order.

Before he could even start to reach for the cup, Adello snatched it out of the way. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll do one for you, Zimiri. These two monsters have already tore you to shreds, and I’m sure I need a punishment anyway for coming in so late.”

He started to protest, but after catching the look in her dark, iron eyes, he relented. “Well, I thank you for your generosity.” The other two, however, were not as compliant.

Purah cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling, “Booooo... Boo to pity! Boo to generosity!” Robbie mimicked her.

“Yeah you have to respect your elders’ wishes. We demand blood! Suffering!”

Adello cracked her neck for show, before downing her glass of cider in a few gulps. The stench and tingling sensation seemed to stick to the sides of her throat. It would take more than water to clear that out. “Adequate” was being very generous when describing its quality.

“Mmmm. The cider’s weirdly salty tonight, I think your attitudes got mixed in here.”

Purah blew another raspberry at her.

They played for a few more rounds, the clatter of cups and breaths of laughter decorating the hours. Much to everyone’s distaste, Purah continued her winning streak, getting by with unbeatable information about the King, royal guards, and one embarrassing anecdote about how her little sister, Impa, had caught her writing an interesting letter to the “local archery hunk.”

Yet, Purah laughed along with the rest of them, the eyes behind her red rimmed glasses held no shame, which Adello envied. Of course that sort of attitude would make you a master at this game. Robbie and Adello attempted to team up and be biased towards Purah in an effort to get her to lose, but either Zimiri didn’t take the hint, or he just really liked playing fair which wasn’t exactly out of character, even if it meant more drinks for him.

Suddenly, a bell towards the back of the pub rang, signifying the end of the band’s gig. The dancing paused, as people gave their thanks, varying from politie applause to drunken yelps. Robbie then rapped the table with his hands, excitedly.

“You know what else tonight needs? Some amazing music, eh Zimiri?” He bounced his eyebrows up and down at him, and gestured towards the lute leaning on one of the table legs.

“I don’t know,” Zimiri replied, “I’ve only a part-time hire for the weekend rush hours, and I wouldn’t want to blindly get on stage and sing without being given permission.”

Adello scoffed. “Uh, are you kidding? The owner would love for you to play without paying you. Haven’t you heard the talk around town? The Adequate’s Tavern: Home of alright food and acceptable ale, but an outstanding bard!”

He fiddled with the string in his hair again. “Oh yeah? I’d love to meet him someday.” At this, Adello clicked her tongue and promptly shoved him out of his chair with her hip.

He laughed to himself as he stumbled aback. “Alright, alright, but only because the birthday tyrant requested it.” Robbie clapped his hands in a “chop-chop” fashion, to truly signify his role as the newly dubbed tyrant.

Suddenly, Zimiri perked his head. Stepping back towards the table, he reached for his cup. “Oh wait, I just lost that round. I still need to drink my—”

Adello grabbed the cup right out of his hands. She tipped it 180 degrees and let the cider spill completely onto the wooden floor. He hopped back, and Purah let out a surprised yelp, saying something about letting the stench seep into the floorboards. Robbie just started to laugh, wildly. Noticing the small commotion, a few other guests looked back at them and started to snicker to themselves.

Setting the cup back on the table, the researcher said, “Great, now you don’t need to ruin your voice any longer. Now get up there and one-up the last band.”

The bard pushed his chair under the table. Picking up his lute as he stood and faced Adello, a charming smile on his face. “Heh, well. My singing voice is grateful. I suppose now I’m in debt to comply.” He gave a curt bow.

Robbie clapped his hands again. “Great, great. Now quit the manners and let’s go already! I still have to order the cake pie!”

Both of the girls rolled their eyes in unison. Zimiri shrugged and started to walk through the small crowd of standing Hylians, and towards the small stage.

A few of the regulars who recognized him let out whoops and whistles, yelling out “Bard!” or “More music!” in support. It seemed that no one really knew his name, but it was nice enough to know that even working here part time would grant you the honor of being recognized by a bunch of random folk. One confused patron, who only associated him with “z” yelled out “Yeah, Zelda!” before promptly slumping under the table. Looking around, a blonde girl caught his eye, as it seemed she was staring at him. He waved, and her cheeks, much to Zimiri’s confusion, turned pink at his gaze and she turned to her friends who started giggling.

Moving past the last of the Hylians with an, “excuse me, sorry!” he finally stepped on the stage. The bard pulled up a small stool to the stage, leaning against it. Most of the folks continued to whoop in approval, seemingly eager for another chance to start dancing. Even the barkeep clapped his hands, probably excited at the thought of a free gig.

I guess, if no one is stopping me…

It was a rowdy bunch, but not a new one. Zimiri had played for these kinds of audiences before.

“I see that quite a few people are itching for a new tune. So, uh, any requests?” he announced as he strum a chord on his lute.

A mass of different voices bounced around the tavern, requests ranging from The Babbler’s Jig, Misko’s Tale, The Eldin Bluffs, and Can I Get More Ale? Although, Zimiri wasn’t quite familiar with the chords of that last song.

He couldn’t stop himself from being biased towards the request of a certain dark skinned girl to his left.

“The World Behind!” Adello said. “Enough with those new ballads, I demand a classic!”

Robbie pumped an arm in the air. “Yes!” he shouted. “I second that! So is my decree as birthday tyrant!”

The bard smiled, preparing the fingering on the neck of his lute. He turned towards the audience. “Well, I’m afraid I have no choice but to heed to such authority.” He began to pluck the beginning notes, tapping a tempo with his boot against the stage. “Now then, a beat, if you all would be so kind?”

The tavern chattered in approval, before piping down. There probably weren't more than 30 people, but the beat they made was definitely sufficient. The sound of stomping, banging mugs, and clapping filled the room. The tempo didn’t even need much adjusting, as The World Behind was pretty familiar around Castle Town. The beat was like a child pretending to be a marching soldier, unconcerned and playful.

Zimiri’s smile widened. A lively crowd indeed, this will do nicely.

With that, he started to sing. His silvery voice echoed across the tavern, as he closed his eyes and began to play.

The boys have gone out to the wishing well

Will they come back? Oh only time will tell

A rupee for a life refined

But time and dreams never align

So tell the world we’ll leave it all behind

Many of the guests had started to dance again, while the rest continued the beat of the song. As Zimiri plucked rapid notes on his lute, he heard a supporting holler from Purah. Next to her, Robbie was slamming his fist to the beat, clearly enjoying himself.

Have you seen the soldiers’ drinking ale?

They wish to sing along with nightingales

To dance on home with songs and rhymes

To banish all the fears from mind

Yes tell the world we’ll leave it all behind

Another pause between the verses, and the bard played the “decorative” rapid notes in between. He didn’t mean to seem like he was showing off, but Adello would attest to the fact that this happened whenever he got too into the music. Looking towards her, Zimiri saw her give a double thumbs up.

Of beasts and men and all atrocities

The damn-ed fate, she owns all that you see

To a better day of new design

Forgot about the gods divine

Oh tell the world we’ll leave it all behind

At this point, some of the guests were singing along, though not to the point of overpowering his own alluring voice. Laughter rang out around the warmly lit room once again. Zimiri looked out at the dancing patrons and smiling guests, grinning at the feeling in his chest this brought. He continued the last verse.

Watch the home while—

“HEY!”

The sudden gruff voice startled the bard to the point where he nearly slipped off the stage.

Lumbering through the double doors, three guards entered the tavern. The one in front, who had interrupted the music, wore a typical knight’s outfit, the same as his male and female coworkers behind him. However, the black hooded cape he wore atop his metal armour swayed with every step he took across the floor, his supposed rank silencing the room.

Well, mostly, silenced the room. A few ticked off guests were booing, groaning, and mocking him for ruining the entertainment.

“Oh would you lot shut up for 2 seconds?!” he said, his voice booming across the tavern. “Listen, I’ll be blunt. I gotta give two messages for this establishment.”

The guests shook their heads, mumbling. Their booing and insults continued, but their volume quieted, it was too early to be getting cross with a couple of knights. Even Zimiri quietly slipped off the stage back towards his friends so as not to be at the end of the knight’s intimidating voice.

The female guard behind the knight handed him a slip of parchment. Unfolding it, the guard cleared his throat.

“Firstly, your music and pounding is disturbing the noblemen next door. He’s staying at the inn or something and wants you to, quote,” he read from the paper, “quit the mindless thumping, for Castle Town is a place of serenity and peace, not of nonsense jigs and banging.”

The groaning and insults started up again; the man gave a shrug, stating something about how he was just following orders.

Adello couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “HA! Well, with an attitude like that, this’ll probably be the first and only time he’s been banged— he should be grateful.”

The room exploded into a mess of laughter and whoops. Even the guard smirked to himself, but attempted to hide it with a shake of his head, saying “Watch the mouth, girl.” Although, his stern tone wasn’t in it.

After a second, he cleared his throat again. With a stomp of his boot he regained the pub's attention, the laughter suffocated out.

“Now, we’re also here looking for a Dr. Robbie Kimura? I received word they might be around here?”

With the attention now towards a single table, most of the guests went back to their idle banter. A few waiters nodded their head towards the table in the back, and the man caught sight of three, white haired teenagers, who were sitting with the dark haired girl who had quipped out earlier.

The scientists turned around too late, in an effort to avoid the knight’s gaze. “Gee, what a bunch of snitches,” Robbie mumbled. The three guards started to walk over to the table.

“Dr...Robbie?”

“Who’s asking?” Robbie squinted with his dark brown eyes.

“Doctor? Really? Is this some kind of prank? You and your friends don’t even look old enough to drink.”

He scoffed. “Okay, first, yes I am a doctor! I didn’t fly through all those courses over four years just to be called, ‘Mr.’ And secondly, I’ll have you know that I am a ripe 20 years of age today, and I’m here drinking expired apple juice with my associates. So take that, pal!”

Beside him, Purah gave a proud nod in agreement. Zimiri started to wave politely at the guard, but Adello grabbed his arm before he could finish the movement. The guard was a bit unsettled with the way that girl was glaring at him. What was some random Hylian doing hanging out with a bunch of Sheikah anyway?

“Right, well, look here, son. Some curious aristo-brat snuck into the courtyard and caused one of those flying, metal Sheikah things to fall apart. My boss said that it was your prototype so you should come back and clean it up before something explodes, and possibly give a sincere apology to the meddling kid who got a few scratches.”

Robbie threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “You’re really gonna pull me out of a birthday just so I can go apologize to a spoiled kid for breaking in and ruining my Guardian?”

“If it lets me keep my job, then yeah.”

Robbie mumbled something about not getting a slice of the apple cake pie.

Suddenly, Adello got up and pushed her chair in, smoothing out the belt around her tunic as she walked towards them.

“Ah yes, well, thank you my dear assistant for the assessment but I’m capable of taking it from here.”

The guard raised a bushy, black eyebrow. “Sorry, wha—”

“You said you only wanted Dr. Robbie? Well great job, you found them. Now let’s get going, I need to finish up a new design anyway.”

“You’re...Robbie? You’re a... clearly not—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have had my mother consult you for your opinion before I was given my name.”

This time, the guard didn’t smile along with her quip. “This is not the time for—”

She held up a finger to silence him, and glared at the three guards with her iron eyes.

“Look, I’m not a nobody. I’m more than capable of fixing up the guardian and any other disasters you might have left lying around the castle grounds. If I’m feeling generous, maybe I’ll even lick the kid’s boots, it’s not my first time dealing with this, alrighty?”

The knights looked at each other, quizzically. The researcher crossed her arms.

“You’re still following your precious orders, aren't you? How would you know what Dr. Robbie looks like? You can’t be faulted for not knowing someone you never met. So, you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

The blonde man behind the gruff, black caped guard, whispered something to his female coworker. Her gaze switched between the girl and the man. Still seeing the uncertainty in their eyes, Adello leaned closer to the knight and lowered her voice. “Come on, have a little heart, it’s his birthday.”

A beat of silence sat, only filled by the mild mumbling and chatter of the tavern. Finally, the guard let out a sigh.

“Alrighty Dr. Kimura. I’ll help escort you to the site.”

Robbie started to protest, but Adello quickly silenced him with a wink. The guard turned towards the rest of the room, yelling, “The rest of you, the sun is gonna rise in a few hours so save your rioting for then! Am I clear?”

The patrons just responded with stupid groans and half-hearted agreements. They started walking towards the door. The female guard started to put a hand on Adello’s shoulder, but she brushed it off, saying something along the lines of “I can walk on my own two feet, thank you very much.”

Purah turned in her seat. “I’ll save a slice of cake pie for you!” Adello turned her head and responded with a two fingered salute, before disappearing out the door with the guards.

The tension in the tavern was almost immediately cleared, the moment the knights left. Most of the people went back to their normal conversational volume, and the waiters began to patter about with more confidence. However, Zimiri slumped in his seat, letting out a sigh.

“Why does she always do things like that?”

Robbie fiddled with the edge of his cup, tracing his finger around the rim. “Well, you know her. Undermining authority? Check. Insults and quips? Check.”

Robbie continued to list off more traits, but it faded out of Zimiri’s ear. Always jumping onto other’s burdens. Ah, that idiot. I bet she hasn’t slept for the last two days.

Purah suddenly piped up, taking out her pen and rapping it against the table. “Alright you two, let’s not let the sacrifice be in vain. Pool your rupees, we’re getting Robbie the fancy cake pie.”

The clatter of a few red and blue rupees echoed on the wooden table, although Zimiri knocked Robbie’s share aside, saying how the birthday tyrant shouldn’t have to pitch in. Purah turned in her chair and started to wave her hand, in order to get the attention of a waiter. The bard watched as a woman with a tray started to walk over to the table. Then, he turned to Robbie.

“So what should we do while we wait?” Zimiri asked. Robbie stroked his chin, looking around the room.

“I think...the people could still use some music.”

Looking out at the crowd, Zimiri noticed how the guards' interference had really dampened the atmosphere. The warm and lively laughter that was present just a few moments earlier was now replaced with more monotone chatter.

He nodded his head in agreement, putting on a charming smile. The place needed a new pick-me-up, did it?

Well, what else is a bard for?

Stepping back onto the stage, he strummed an open chord, double checking the tuning. The whooping and clapping started to return, much to his delight. Plucking a familiar melody, the warm feeling in his stomach returned as he watched the new smiles that started to fill the room. However, before he began to sing, Zimiri first focused on craning his neck to look out a window, trying to catch a glimpse of a certain girl in the night.

It seemed the moon and sun were balanced on the edge of the world. The night had started to submerge behind the walls of West Castle Town, with only the brightest stars still perched upon the ink of the navy blue sky. The silver lining of greying clouds just barely glowed from the faint light of the day, still trying to break out of the eastern waters.

Adello’s footsteps echoed through the cobblestone streets, but she could barely hear it against the shifting of metal plates from the guards in front of her.

The gruff man looked back, scratching his peach fuzzed chin as he spoke. “Listen, if you finish your work quick I might be able to escort you back here.”

Adello shook her head. She turned to retrieve a journal from the pouch on her belt, opening its pages as an excuse to avoid his gaze. “No, it’s fine. I still have some more work I should be finishing up at home anyhow.”

“You...live at the castle?”

“Mmm.”

The guard took her blunt response as a sign to not continue with the niceties, much to Adello’s relief. Looking up, she gazed at the looming castle. Its towers were like mountain peaks, sitting above the blurred silhouettes of the buildings of Castle Town.

Taking out a bit of charcoal, she started to sketch its outline on a fresh page in her journal. While she only had one color, she tried to capture the shadows and lighting that cascaded on one side of the castle to the other.

The female guard slowed her step, starting to walk alongside the researcher.

“Already working?”

Adello didn’t look up from her journal. “Uh… you could say that.”

She laughed. “Well you best hope you know what you’re doing. This kid’s father has been yelling at Her Highness all night. Supposedly because she’s helping to lead Sheikah research, so everyone associated with guardians is at fault.”

Adello finished up the tower of Princess Zelda’s study in her sketch. She smiled to herself at the finished work. It was one of her better pieces. Putting the journal away, she turned back to the guard and scoffed. “Is that so?”

The guard hummed a yes, her blonde braid swaying to each side as she walked. “Apparently, the kid is the son of some visiting nobleman from the East Post. It’d be in your best interest to apologize profusely if you still wanna walk around alive.”

Adello shook her head. She didn’t know it then, but looking back, many moons from now, she would laugh at the irony of her response.

“I’d rather die.”

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw fanfiction #where time takes us #botw oc #adello #zimiri

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grailfinders · 4 years

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Fate and Phantasms #5: Nero Claudius

Today’s servant build is the glorious emperor of our beloved Roma, Nero Claudius! Nero only has two rules:

1. You do whatever you want

2. You look sexy as hell doing it.

Her spreadsheet is over here, and details are under the cut.

Background and Race

It’s a common mistake, but despite Nero’s incredibly good looks she is not a goddess, but in fact a Human, giving her +1 to all stats. She’s also “only” a Noble. We all have to make sacrifices. This gives you proficiency in History and Persuasion, as well as a Position of Privilege, making it easier for you to score an audience with other, less powerful nobles.

As always, we’re using the standard array, but feel free to roll if you want to. Put your highest score in Charisma, you’re the epitome of beauty, and depending on the writer everyone loves you.

Follow this with Dexterity. Stumbling doesn’t look good, and you’re all about looking good.

Next is Intelligence. You’re flighty, not stupid.

Then is Constitution. You’re not “Thicc”, to borrow modern parlance, but you’ve got curves where you need them.

Our neutral score goes into Strength. Muscles aren’t beautiful, but you don’t need them anyway.

Finally, dump Wisdom. Like I said, you’re flighty. Very, very flighty.

Class Levels

1. In case the opening didn’t clue you in, you’re a Bard. This gives you proficiency in Light Armor, Simple Weapons, Hand Crossbows, Long and Shortswords, rapiers, and three instruments of you choice. You also gain proficiency in any three skills, so pick out Acrobatics so you can add some fancy footwork to your attacks, Animal Handling because all the lions in the Colosseum love you, and Performance, because you are the best singer you know. You also get proficiency in Dexterity and Charisma saves.

At first level, you gain Bardic Inspiration, letting you use a bonus action to give a die (currently a d6) to another creature. Within 10 minutes, that creature can roll that die and add the roll to an ability check, saving throw, or attack roll. These dice can’t stack, and they have to be used before a success or failure is declared. You can hand out a number of dice equal to your Charisma mod each long rest. Let no one say you’re not generous.

You also gain Spellcasting, using your Charisma as the spellcasting ability. You start with two cantrips and four first level spells. Pick up Friends to improve your social standing and Prestidigitation, because clouds of rose petals should always announce your arrival, and buying real ones that often is a pain.

For first level spells, Charm Person and Animal Friendship ensure your beauty can be appreciated by all the creatures of Rome. Get Unseen Servant, because nobody should have to pour their own wine, and Cure Wounds, to patch up party members those few times you aren’t perfect.

2. At second level, bards gain Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to any ability check that doesn’t use it. Notably, this includes initiative, so don’t forget how awesome you are.

You also gain Song of Rest. You can now add a d6 to any healing done on a short rest.

Grab Dissonant Whispers as well. Your musical skill is so prodigious even your enemies will rush off to tell the world!

3. At third level, you enter the College of Swords, gaining proficiencies in medium armor and the scimitar. You can also use your weapon as a spellcasting focus. You gain a fighting style, Dueling, which gives you +2 to melee damage rolls while only holding a one-handed weapon.

You also learn Flourishes, maneuvers you can add to your normal attacks. Whenever you attack, you gain 10′ of movement speed that turn, and on a hit you can spend an inspiration die to add a flourish to that attack. You get three options, all of which also add the roll to your original attacks damage: Defensive Flourish: Add the roll to your AC until the start of your next turn. Slashing Flourish: Deal the roll in damage to another creature within 5′ of you. Mobile Flourish: Push the creature the roll + 5′ away from you. You can then move to an empty square next to them, preferably dashing through them during the attack.

You gain second level spells this turn, so it’s time to gain your Imperial Privilege, a.k.a. Enhance Ability. This spell grants advantage on any one kind of ability check to a willing creature (i.e. you), and has additional effects if you choose Constitution (2d6 temporary HP), Strength (2x carrying capacity), or Dexterity (No fall damage under 20′). Between this and Jack of All Trades, you can suddenly decide to be really good at pretty much any skill.

You also gain expertise, doubling your proficiency in Performance and Persuasion.

4. At fourth level, bards receive an Ability Score Improvement. Put yours into Dexterity and Constitution.

You’ll also get Pyrotechnics, because making the perfect entrance is always your highest priority.

5. At fifth level, you become even more inspiring as all your inspiration dice become d8s. You also become a Font of Inspiration, regaining all Inspiration dice on short rests. Grab Major Image so you can create a whole entourage to follow you around.

6. At sixth level, you get Countercharm. Now you can put on a performance to help your friends avoid being frightened or charmed. As a part of the College of Swords, you also gain an Extra Attack. Unfortunately, you can only use one flourish per turn, but you do get the extra movement. Take Hypnotic Pattern to awe the world with your artistry!

7. At seventh level, grab Freedom of Movement. You’re not the kind of woman to get tied down, figuratively or literally.

8. At eighth level, put your Ability Score Improvement into Charisma for more inspiration and higher spell saves. Also, grab Charm Monster. More of the world becomes an audience for your art!

9. Ninth level bards get a boost to their song of rest, turning it into a d8. Grab Hold Monster for your next spell to ensure a receptive audience.

10. At tenth level, your inspiration dice become d10s. You gain more Expertise, this time in Acrobatics and Animal Handling. This is mostly because the only other skill you have proficiency in is History, and that’s boring.

You’re also privy to Magical Secrets, spells from any caster class, and another cantrip. Grab Elemental Weapon to make your sword as beautiful as you are, Thaumaturgy for even more bombastic entrances, and Vicious Mockery, because the only thing worse than a smug anime girl is a smug anime girl laughing at you.

11. Grab Mass Suggestion, a.k.a. the best explanation for Septem.

12. Use another Ability Score Improvement to max out Charisma. Now you’re almost as charming as you think you are!

13. You get another boost to Song of Rest, turning it into a d10. Grab Mirage Arcane for this level’s spell, letting you build the Golden Theatre yourself! It will still be a couple levels before you can pull off your Noble Phantasm properly, though.

14. When you graduate from the College of Swords, you learn a Master’s Flourish, letting you use flourishes without spending inspiration dice. The drawback is you can only use them for free as a d6. You also get more Magical Secrets. Grab Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion for some well deserved R&R, and Steel Wind Strike so you can weave through the barbarian hordes with grace and dignity.

15. At fifteenth level, your bardic inspiration grows to d12, further empowering your friends and yourself. You also grab a new spell Glibness, meaning charisma checks basically don’t exist for you any more.

16. You get another Ability Score Improvement for Dexterity, making you more graceful than ever before.

17. Your final improvement for Song of Rest turns it into a d12 as well. You also grab Foresight as your ninth level spell, granting you advantage in almost everything you do. 11 minutes of prep time is a far cry from one NP animation, but it’s still really impressive.

18. You get a final round of Magical Secrets. Grab Mass Heal to help out the rest of your party, and Wish, because you deserve it for helping out your party with that mass heal thing. Go on, have a little causality reversal, as a treat.

19. Use your last Ability Score Improvement for Constitution for better health and concentration.

20. Finally, you get Superior Inspiration. Whenever combat starts, you’ll never be without at least one inspiration die.

Pros: You have Wish. More seriously, like most bards you have pretty much zero issue charming your way out of anything that isn’t straight combat with a paladin, whether that’s magically or just laying on the schmooze. You’re not tough enough to be on the front lines that long, but you don’t need to be. You have plenty of ways to dart in, hit someone to get more movement, then dart back out. If you know a big fight is coming, you can always set up your own personal arena and hold an impromptu Nerofest on their asses.

Cons: Your wisdom save is terrible, and there’s not much you can do about that if you get ambushed. You may be the master of charm, but you’re also the master of getting charmed. Plus putting all your spells into charms and the like means your ability to heal the party is weaker than other bards. Plus, if you actually try to do everything with liberal uses of Enhance Ability on just yourself, the party may not like you that much.

#fgo #fate grand order #Nero Claudius #DnD #fate and phantasms

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meldelen · 4 years

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The Witcher comics - Some kind of review

Just finished the fourth volume of the newest Witcher comics and I thought I’d share some personal impressions. Of course, these being just my humble opinion from my inexperience, in general, in the comics world.

The Witcher: House of Glass (Volume I)

Nothing special, unfortunately. It’s merely one standalone adventure of Geralt of Rivia that at most could resemble a side-quest among the thousands you find in the games. The original idea - a widowed hunter stalked by the vengeful ghost of his murdered wife - isn’t bad per se, but doesn't seem particularly well written to me. I'm sure there are much better fanfics in the community.

Still, the illustrations are worse. I’m not an expert in comics but I know a bit about art and they look honestly ugly to me. The characters appear unfriendly, disproportionate... with their heads too large and their arms too narrow or long. Even the level of detail changes randomly: for example, there’s a female character, the succubus, who in her first appearance is seen with horns and wings and then is no longer seen like this anymore, appearing as a human woman.

There are many filler scenes that son’t contribute anything to the story but mere dialogue, in addition to two moments of Geralt fucking someone because of course, it is what Geralt always does, to make some woman (even if she’s a succubus) end up falling between his legs.

Otherwise, a marketable product, quite forgettable. Only for die-hard fans of The Witcher who don't mind spending some bucks to add something else to their collection. But I couldn't say I recommend it.

The Witcher: Fox Children (Volume 2)

Although essentially my review does not change much from that of the first volume, House of Glass, I give one more star to Fox Children for a very simple reason: the story is better, and it is because it’s Sapkowski's original story.

Those who have read Season of Storms, the prequel to The Witcher saga and the latest book published by the Polish author, will have realized that this story is copy-pasted from the book, with very few and insignificant modifications. However, nowhere is it mentioned that the story is originally written by Sapko - despite being recognized as the author of The Witcher - and therefore the story is good compared to the previous volume.

So it's really not true that Paul Tobin wrote this comic, because even the text is almost copy-pasted from Season of Storms. As for the drawing, it’s still as unfriendly and bland as in the first volume. Fortunately in the third volume they have already changed illustrators.

I would only recommend this comic to The Witcher fans who enjoy the story of the fox and the kidnapped girl on the boat crossing the Pontar swamp that you already know from the book. Otherwise, a fairly dispensable and irrelevant product. The cover, yes, is very beautiful.

The Witcher: Curse of Crows (Volume 3)

This third volume from The Witcher series is slightly better than the previous ones, for many reasons. In the first place, the drawing, without being extraordinary, improves considerably compared with House of Glass and Fox Children, thereby benefiting from the change of illustrator - that while still being a bit flat, expressionless and simple.

Second, the story greatly benefits from the appearance of Ciri and Yennefer. What's more, I would say that the protagonist of the story is Ciri, more than Geralt. Fans of games and books are left wanting to see more joint adventures of the two witchers, particularly on the Path, making contracts. And this is precisely what this comic brings you: Ciri and Geralt are commissioned to kill a striga in Novigrad. During this mission, they join Yennefer. We already have the complete family.

Unfortunately, the story doesn't add much quality. It seems that the author is dedicated to improvising page by page, with quite strange twists in which the characters change direction, make abrupt and unexpected decisions, abandon missions or contracts without finishing to get into other troubles. Shows lack of cohesion between the events that are happening. It looks like anything written had been drawn first and added to those images later.

The number of times Ciri takes a bath during the comic is ridiculous, it doesn't add anything to the story and it only exists with the excuse that you can see her naked, something the games never did. The number of times Yennefer bathes, as well, with the same reasons. As for Geralt, you only get to see him a couple of times bathing and well, you get to see his buttocks in one scene, but comparatively he cleans himself little - or is interested in cleaning little - compared to his adventure companions.

In the end, the story of the striga - which in the end is not even a striga - is diluted in a lot of filler scenes, without relevance, which are only to fill pages. It is a little cheeky what the author takes advantage of the original work of Sapko - as he did in the previous volume! - because a good part of the comic is based on repeating the story of the striga that he disenchanted, Princess Adda, daughter of King Foltest.

3 stars for a comic that is more sympathetic than the previous ones for a better drawing, for Ciri and Yennefer, and because it’s entertaining to see Ciri punching the men of the taverns who dare to disturb her - something she does on several occasions - . But in the end, it is neither an extraordinary illustration nor the story goes beyond the level of bad fanfic.

It is a shame that these comics are limited to being a side marketing product. With a good writer and a better illustrator they would have a much better potential. Still, I can't say I regret reading them - but I won't be running for volume 4 either.

The Witcher: Of Flesh And Flame (Volume 4)

By far the best of the four volumes that have been published so far from The Witcher saga in comic format. The previous three, unfortunately, are quite forgettable... neither the drawing - which was clearly ugly in the first volume and quite forgettable in the following two - nor the story - boring, flat and cliche, which perpetuates many sexist clichés that the original lore sometimes suffers from - motivated me to keep reading this series.

And suddenly it turns out that I see some panels of this number four and I decide, for the last time, to give it a try. And I was right! This new issue is written and illustrated by two new artists - two women - and although gender should not determine, the fact is that it does. Not only the drawing for the first time is good - beautiful, engaging, and immersive - but also the story is engaging and logical, diverse and interesting.

Most of the action takes place in Ofir, a southern kingdom to which Geralt is accidentally transported along with his friend Jaskier, the bard. Jaskier's introduction as a minor character - or rather, co-star, because he plays an essential role in the story - is a total success, and the reason why I decided to read the issue. But for the first time the character of the bard is totally useful and decisive for the plot, giving a dignity to the character who exercises a relevant function using his natural abilities - singing, poetry, oratory and his skills as a spy and conspirator - to boost the plot. The sexist and problematic elements of the lore are absent in this issue, which the two artists handle skillfully and with good taste without giving up the sensual and erotic overtones that are typical of The Witcher's universe. Finally, the story is entertaining and well spun, it has a correct development and a coherent ending, without appearing forced or a mere concatenation of situations copied from books and games, as it happens with the three previous numbers.

In short, highly recommended for all fans of The Witcher and definitely a boost for comic series. I would recommend Dark Horse not to get rid of these two authors and artists, because it was definitely what the saga needed, a refreshing and balanced new take, that treats the characters correctly without falling for clichés.

The only reason I don't give it all five stars is that some fight scene - one or two, no more - seems forced and shoehorn into you to watch Geralt cope. And the use of a couple of flashbacks of video games that, although interesting, do not contribute to the plot either. Otherwise perfect. A total success. If you continue with this team, sign me up.

#the witcher #comics #house of glass #fox children #the curse of the crows #of flesh and flame #dark horse comics #norma editorial #characters #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #ciri #jaskier #reviews #my reviews

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writemoment · 5 years

Text

Failing Flirt

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

Part: 1/1

Summary: She wasn’t used to growing affections, Jaskier wasn’t inexperienced but he was rather untalented at showing his feelings, and Geralt was tired of it all.

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Warnings/Rated: Mostly fluff, maybe second hand embarrassment if you squint.

Word Count: 2,163

A/N: With everything going on with the virus, I figured I might as well post some of my drafts that have already been finished. I’m working on more! Hopefully I can get a few series finished over the next two weeks. Thanks for being patient! xx

( Reader ) P.O.V.

When I had agreed to travel with the Witcher and the bard, Jaskier had played off their need for a healer with much exaggeration. “I mean- you can tag along but Geralt can take care of himself.” That’s what he had said.

Since then, I have used chaos to heal not only Geralt but also Jaskier many times. The more they played off their need for assistance, the more they seemed to need it. Though, I was not one to brag about this. I was more than content to be a part of something bigger than the life I had been scraping by.

However, as the days turned into weeks, I had fallen into a rhythm of friendship, or mutual acceptance according to the Witcher, with my colleagues. These types of dynamics were something I hadn’t much skill or experience in.

How was I to know the difference between friendly banter and awful flirting?

Jaskier and I got along the best. Though Geralt and I could have decent and meaningful conversations underneath the fall of the night. Jaskier was the delightful opposite of your everyday Witcher. He was loud, obnoxious, didn’t know how to take a breath in between talking and, man, did he love to get smack dab in the middle of where he doesn’t belong.

It was a stark contrast to your quiet, all-brooding Witcher whom of which spent most of his free time complaining to Roach. That or yelling at the bard to shut the hell up. Yet, this somehow made up a family-like scenario for me. I could even get Geralt to crack a smirk at my lame jokes on occasion.

But the closer I got to Jaskier, the more flustered I became around him. I know of his past dalliances with court women and others-alike, but I was very inexperienced and unprepared in this territory. Romance had no place in the life of someone who had to use every moment to survive. Finding this unlikely pair had been the first breath of fresh air I had in a long while.

One night as we were eating at our camp, the fire blazing to chase the chill away, Jaskier said from beside me, “Y/n, you are like the flames in which set in front of me. I can’t stand to look at you for too long.”

Geralt huffed and, almost as if being just as exhausted at us, Roach snorted derisively. My brows furrowed at the bard as he looked uncomfortably at the ground. “Uh, I’m sorry to hear that, Jaskier.” I replied, but my tone set it up as more of a question.

A moment lingered before I had bid them both goodnight, retracting to my tent. As I settled in to rest, I heard a groan followed by Geralt’s gruff voice saying, “Nice going, bard.”

Ever since then, Jaskier has been saying things of a similar nature. All of them easy to misconstrue one way or another. Despite his odd behavior, I continued to seek out his company any chance that I could. I felt pulled to him, like a bond between our destinies, as if his soul were meant to be melded with mine.

Finally reaching the village, we pad behind Geralt into the streets. Jaskier the ‘dandelion’ bard was almost as recognizable as the ‘white wolf’ Witcher of Rivia. His ballads painted the tales of awe and woe, of adventures and horrors alike. The valley’s rang with the people singing his work from far and wide.

We quickly spot a tavern for us to rest in for the next few days while Geralt finds work. The sound of clanking pints and drunken jeers are familiar as we slither in past the occupants. Taverns all tend to have the same musty aroma mixed in with the scent of earth and stale sweat. It’s a common occurrence to travelers like us. Not that it makes it any better.

While getting our rooms, a man fidgets over to the Witcher with hushed words. I get the gist of it; another monster in need to be reckoned with. Jaskier floats about as if he just received the gift of a lifetime, “Let us go and slay thy beast!”

“Us? Would you like me to let you take care of this one?”

Jaskier backpedals, hard. “Oh, I- You wouldn’t let your most best friend in the whole wide world get hurt, now would you, Geralt?” But he’s only met with a grunt of a hum from the Witcher. “Geralt?”

With a light chuckle, I grasp Jaskier by the arm and drag him along to follow. Being in contact with him like this causes my pulse to race. I hardly want to let go. He grabs my hand that has a fist-full of his garment bunched up in it and loosens my hold. Slowly, my fingers fall against his own and together they fold over each other.

The tips of his fingers are hard and calloused, obvious traits of being a musician. What’s unexpected is how soft and warm his palm is as it’s pressed up against mine. It molds with my own in a way that I could never explain in it’s complexities of perfection. The feeling draws a shiver down my spine.

Jaskier doesn’t let go of my hand, he just continues to hold it. Nervously, I attempt to look anywhere but at the man beside me. That’s how I spot Geralt glancing back at us with a raised brow. Embarrassment strikes me and I yank my hand away, coiling it into my abdomen as if to quell the eruption of butterflies.

Instant regret tugs at me as the cold replaces the warmth of his embrace. I feel so bad about it, I can’t even bring myself to look at him. So we walk in Jaskier-esque silence. Which translates to an occasional ramble as the opportunity presents itself but not as much talking as you would normally get out of the bard.

Geralt pauses outside the location he was given, telling us to wait for him here. There’s nothing much more to do, really. One thing I’ve come to really admire over these past months is Jaskier’s blind faith in the Witcher’s ability to be to stubborn to die. Time and time again I’ve been proven that it’s a fairly reasonable belief. Besides the handful of times one of them have almost died due to that faith. But I suppose destiny has continued to side with them.

Being left alone with Jaskier feels different now. On the verge of uncomfortable. My ache to be near him is combated with the pure horror of making another mistake. It was a conundrum.

“Did I burn you?”

My eyes jump up to meet his pale blue orbs, “What?” I question. We were surrounded by nothing but earth and a mild heat from the sun. Nothing to cause any, if much, damage.

His jaw clenches in, what I can only assume is, frustration. “You sure whipped your hand away fast enough. You either got hurt or I’m about to be.” He purses his lips, brows furrowing. “So which is it, Y/n?”

The words tumble in my head, knocking into my ability to form coherent sentences that portray what I want to say; how I feel. Inhaling, I try to gather my courage to bare my soul to him.

“Life as a mage has ingrained in me many things. All these years, I’ve learned the art of give and take. Everything has a price in my world, Jaskier. If I were to be painfully honest, I’m afraid that if I give a part of me to someone... I don’t know how much they will take.”

I stare into his eyes and I see my own vulnerable reflection staring back. “I can’t afford to lose.” It’s the truth. My entirety is built upon giving only enough to survive. To give my heart, my whole self, to someone would be a risk. It’s a luxury that can’t be had to people like me.

I hate the pity that swirls behind his expression, hate the way I care about how he thinks of me. It hurts to be so close to him and yet, feel so far. The unknown is a dangerous lover to destiny. You can never be too sure that one won’t hold the other.

“Y/n, I-”

Geralt returns, effectively cutting off Jaskier’s sentence. The Witcher is covered in a thin layer of blood and heavily coated in his signature irritation. He grunts at us as he obviously couldn’t care less about the conversation he interrupted. Silently, we follow his trek back to the tavern where he will collect what he’s owed and we can rest for the night.

At this point, feeling heavy with exhaustion and clouded with gloom, the idea of sinking into the stiff mattress of my room sounds inviting. That’s all I can focus on as we walk in true silence. Chaos is an element in which I’ve learned to control, though I sometimes wonder if that’s a cruel punishment from this world. What’s the point of being powerful if everything around me is spiraling?

When the tattered building is in view, I pick up my pace. I had been falling a ways behind the white wolf but now I’m almost stepping on his heel to get where we are going. Of course he’d take notice of this.

Holding the door open, Geralt allows me to sweep past him. It’s as if I’m on autopilot; marching up the stairs to my quarters, dressing for the night and sinking onto the edge of the bed.

I’m not one for self-pity. There’s nothing to be done but accept what you’ve been dealt. Though the cards I’ve been given have been nothing but rubbish. I wonder if Jaskier and I could work through this, if we could remain like we have been in the past. If not, then I’d have to revert back to the life I lead before.

Knock-knock-knock

Three taps. Three perfectly timed raps are placed upon my door. They’re so distinct and unexpected that they break me from my self-absorption. I’m up and opening the barrier in a flash, eyes searching for the cause to the interruption.

“Jaskier...”

He stands on the other side looking a bit sheepish. “May I?”

Standing aside, he waltzes into the room and I shut the door behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” There’s a lingering awkward that hangs between us and it makes my skin prick with unease.

For a moment, I doubt the bard will say anything or if he’s even heard me. It all tumbles forth from his rosy lips so fast, I don’t have any time to prepare myself for what they mean. “I know you said that everything has a price and the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t deny that truth.

“You’re afraid of the price you’ll pay for loving someone, but you shouldn’t be afraid of loving...me.” With every breath he takes a step closer, “Because I can’t promise to know what the future will hold or that we won’t lose some along the way, but I can tell you that I believe destiny has us bonded. I can tell you, without a doubt, what you would gain if you allow me to have your heart.”

I can feel his breath on my lips, fanning over the curve of my cupids bow. “What would that be?” I insist.

“My heart.” Everything inside me lurches as his lips capture mine in the sweetest embrace. The taste pulls every cobwebbed emotion from my depths and I willingly surrender to him. Because this exchange, this give and take, is one that I would gladly partake in with confidence.

His name tumbles from my lips like a mantra. I can’t get close enough to him to satisfy this hunger that’s growing inside. My very breath seems a burden in this show of affection. “I love you, Jaskier.”

It’s a whisper. Those words float between us and I can only pray he’ll catch me as I fall. His lips stretch into a wide smile, eyes lighting up with giddiness. “I love you, too.”

Here in this room, our hearts pressed up against one another’s, I feel at peace. This bard has plucked at my heart strings for so long and finally, we are in tune.

The next morning, Jaskier and I walk out hand in hand. Geralt watches us with a vaguely amused expression. “Geralt of Rivia! What a fine morning it is!” Jaskier announces, prancing about and dragging me with him as I smile widely.

Geralt’s lips turns up into a smirk, “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

Laughing, I shake my head at them. Destiny or not, venturing into the unknown with these two makes the risk seem all the more worth it. Besides, our fate is still to be made.

Masterlist Here

A/N: I love Jaskier. That is all. - Ellie-Mae

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stickybasementthings · 4 years

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The Lone Wolf’s Mate

Author’s note: The quarantine has made me do something I’ve never thought about doing... write a fanfic. There are so many incredible fanfic writers out there and it’s almost offensive for me to think I should put my gibberish anywhere near their beautiful masterpieces. That being said please go easy on me... my heart is quite soft. (First ever fic lol)

Y/N had been traveling on her own since she turned old enough for her father to tell her it was time to leave the house. From a young age, the girl had quite the knack for selling and trading. Y/N knew how to make a deal. So, near her 18th birthday, she decided not to look for a spouse but to set out on the life of a traveler. Unfortunately, she had no accompanist, but she didn’t mind she had always been a lone wolf type. Though if she was honest with herself, her guilty pleasure was picturing herself belonging to a group or person. Y/N had been a nomad for years and really just wanted someone to share her stories with. It’s easier for a person to lose memories when they are the only ones holding onto them.

The Gods above must have heard her prayers. Y/N was on her way to the market in the town she was currently staying at. She had items she picked up along the way that she needed to pass along to someone else. That’s when fate stepped in, and who was fate? Fate was a bard dressed in finer clothes then Y/N had seen some noblewomen wear.

Jaskier was tempting fate when he was walking too close to Geralt which opted the bigger man to push the young lad out of his space. Jaskier not being the most stable of men tripped over his own feet falling into a smaller softer body. When Y/N had opened her eyes, which she had childishly closed due to impact, she came face to face with the blue-eyed man. He had a kind face one that she may be too easily could trust. Cheekbones that she couldn’t help but envy and lips that embarrassingly were tempting. And moving very fast which she realized were saying something that she had not been paying attention to.

“Are you alright? I am terribly sorry” Jaskier said concern and worry feeling up his mind. He was too focused on making sure she was okay that he had forgotten that his body was trapping hers on the ground of a busy road. “Jaskier get off of her.” Geralt said pulling him by his collar.

Once the man had pushed himself off the ground, he extended a hand to the girl still on the ground. It was then that Y/N had realized she had yet said anything. When she was on her feet and back, in reality, she noticed a pain in her right side. The girl realized that she had landed on the now crushed mirror she held in her bag. A piece of the glass must have cut through the fabric of the bag and her dress. There was a dark crimson patch starting to appear on the side.

“Oh god. Here come with me I can fix that.” Jaskier grasped Y/N’s hand pulling her in the opposite direction of where she was going. The man did not even take the time to let his friend in on his plan. He just started pushing past people making his way back to the inn he had stayed the previous night. The girl had remained silent all the way until they had reached the door to what looked like the bathhouse when she pulled away from him.

“I’m not going in there with you.” She started putting distance between them. “Excellent you speak!” ignoring her protest “Honestly I was beginning to assume you were mute. “the man pushed the door open revealing one of the nicest baths she had ever seen. From the look of it, the entire Inn was twice the more extravagant than any place she had stayed at.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she stepped closer to the door frame. The man was already in the room rummaging through drawers pulling out ointments and clothes.

“You’re going to need to remove your outer layer,” Jaskier informs while plunging a cloth into a bucket of water.

“And why would I need that?” She asked and despite her lack of trust, she stepped closer into the room.

“Listen. From the look of that stain, you are going to want to clean that cut. Trust me, I just want to help.” Jaskier had stopped looking around for stuff and looked the girl straight in the eyes.

Despite her brain screaming at her to second think the action she placed her bag on the floor and began reaching behind to her laces. Only stopping when a sear of pain shot through her side causing her to cry out. Jaskier stepped closer to her, worry filling his eyes. “Is it okay if I help you?” He said standing just a foot from her. not trusting her voice, she gently nodded her head.

The man moved behind her and even though he had been atop of her a few moments earlier this still felt way more intimate. Y/N could feel the pressure of his hands while they made work of her laces. Her heart racing from both the pain and closeness. She had no idea what was going on with her. She had been much closer to men before and in much more compromising positions but something about him made her feel shy. Worried that if she made the wrong move or said the wrong thing the kindness in his eyes would disappear and maliciousness would replace it.

When Y/N was left in only her undergarments Jaskier moved the girl to a table where she could layback on. Pushing up her undershirt he began cleaning the wound area. Despite being almost naked in front of the man his eyes were only focused on the task at hand. He worked as though he had done this several times before. Y/N began to wonder if maybe the Witcher she had seen with often needed his skills.

Her mind was too focused on the narration she was giving him to even recognize the pain or the fact that he was finished.

“All done, and again I apologize for everything,” Jaskier said still standing close to her.

“Thank you.” Was managed to say mentally punishing herself for being at such a loss for words. He gave her a small smile which she returned.

“Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jaskier.” Y/N knew at that moment she was going to hold onto that name.

“Y/N, and uh thanks for helping me.” The girl said annoyingly she knew her cheeks were bright red.

“No, it was my duty to help you. I did cause the mess.” He began to ramble “I still feel awful about the whole thing so really this is the least I could do.” Jaskier was searching for his mind to think of anything else he could do to make up for the pain he had caused her. “That mirror was it important?” he asked “No. I was going to sell it.” She said which for some reason still made Jaskier fell bad for the accident. He thought for a second and an idea came into his mind. “Well, I’ll pay you back for it! I’m playing tonight here and I’m sure I’ll make double what the mirror would have made you. You can have all if you come tonight.” Jaskier really did want to make things right but also a more selfish part of him really just wanted to see the girl again.

“I was supposed to leave tonight. I no longer have a place to stay.” “That’s alright. Stay here! We have two rooms and Geralt surely won't mind doubling up for one night.” Jaskier pleaded “Plus you probably should rest a day before you began to travel.”

Y/N was silent. Thinking of all the reasons why she should not accept his offer. Despite the hundred reasons not to she agreed if only to selfishly see the young man again.

#jaskier #jaskier x y/n #the witcher #fanfic #jaskier x reader #joey batey #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x oc #first fanfic

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mariocki · 5 years

Text

I was recently at an Oxfam bookshop, which is always a dangerous thing. I don't get to them often, but whenever I do I leave with far too much stuff. This time was no different, and I walked away with a bag full of books and records. Most exciting among my purchases, though, was a collected edition of the poems of William McGonagall.

I have long been after such a tome. For the uninitiated, McGonagall was a 19th century Scots poet and (by his own description) tragedian. This is him:

He is also often described as perhaps the worst poet who ever lived.

I've been a fan of McGonagall's work ever since I first came across The Famous Tay Whale, perhaps the best known of his poems. Like all of his work, it displays a total disregard for scansion; a rigid adherence to end-rhyme, no matter how strained; and a tendency toward utter literalism, forsaking metaphor or imagery in favour of simply describing what is in front of his eyes. An excerpt:

So the monster whale did sport and play

Among the innocent little fishes in the beautiful Tay,

Until he was seen by some men one day,

And they resolved to catch them without delay.

Taken by itself this might not seem so bad - it certainly isn't good - but McGonagall's poems all have a habit of going on slightly too long as well, so that he ultimately begins to repeat himself, and the more painful of the lines only get worse. I will say, though, that The Famous Tay Whale does contain perhaps my favourite of all McGonagall's stanzas:

Then the water did descend on the men in their boats,

Which wet their trousers and also their coats;

But it only made them the more determined to catch the whale,

But the whale shook at them his tail.

I mean, that's a triple whammy. You've got the horrible, awful lack of scanning between the third and fourth lines, the crazed reliance on rhyme, and the utterly extraneous detail of the wet coats. In a twisted way, this is art.

It feels sort of cruel to celebrate someone for being bad at something. But McGonagall really was very, very bad. Actually, there is some debate about whether or not he was 'in' on the joke - that he may have been a skilled music hall entertainer, who had created the character of The Great McGonagall in order to draw a crowd - and at the height of his fame, he was certainly very successful. There is enough oddness, however, and general eccentricity in his private life to convince me that McGonagall was entirely sincere in his belief of his artistic talents.

A greater reading of his work reveals some particular obsessions held by the poet. There are numerous poems dedicated to new buildings or elements of industry. The best known of these, I suppose, is the triptych of poems about the Tay Railway Bridge (the Tay itself figures in an alarming number of the poems). Some brief excerpts:

The Railway Bridge Of The Silvery Tay

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!

And prosperity to Messrs Bouche and Grothe,

The famous engineers of the present day,

Who have succeeded in erecting the Railway

Bridge of the Silvery Tay,

Which stands unequalled to be seen

Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

The singling out of individuals for praise towards the end of the poem is another recurring motif in McGonagall's work. A little over a year after writing the above poem, the Tay Rail Bridge collapsed during a storm, whilst a train was crossing. The disaster moved the poet to write again:

The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!

Alas! I am very sorry to say

That ninety lives have been taken away

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

Remember'd is a particularly frustrating word because the removal of that e does nothing to shorten the word or number of syllables when read aloud. Honestly, I can only assume McGonagall was doing it for the aesthetic. Regardless, when a replacement bridge was unveiled the poet once more put pen to paper:

An Address To The New Tay Bridge

Beautiful new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay,

With your strong brick piers and buttresses in so grand array,

And your thirteen central girders, which seem to my eye

Strong enough all windy storms to defy.

And as I gaze upon thee my heart feels gay,

Because thou are the greatest railway bridge of the present day,

And can be seen for miles away

As well as the Tay Rail Bridge, McGonagall captured numerous towns and cities with his pen; there are poems dedicated to Edinburgh, Glasgow, New York, Balmoral, Torquay, Perth, and several about his home town of Dundee. The poet also wrote on topical events, particularly disasters and battles (presumably where his title of Tragedian came from). Then there are addresses to particular people - to Queen Victoria, to Shakespeare, Tennyson, an unknown poet who poked fun at him, and to someone called J. Graham Henderson, presumably a tailor:

Lines In Praise Of Mr. J. Graham Henderson, Hawick

Success to Mr. J. Graham Henderson, who is a good man,

And to gainsay it there's few people can,

I say so from my own experience,

And experience is a great defence.

He is a good man, I venture to say,

Which I declare to the world without dismay,

Because he's given me a suit of Tweeds, magnificent to see,

So good that it cannot be surpassed in Dundee.

An excerpt from one of McGonagall's tragic tales:

The Disastrous Fire At Scarborough

Oh! It was horrible to see the flames leaping up all around,

While among the spectators the silence was profound,

As they saw a man climb out to the parapet high,

Resolved to save his life, or in the attempt to die!

And he gave one half frantic leap, with his heart full of woe,

And came down upon the roof of a public-house 20 feet below;

But, alas! He slipped and fell through the skylight,

And received cuts and bruises: oh, what a horrible sight!

It is lines such as the above that have undoubtedly caused people to question whether the writer was some kind of elaborate hoaxer; those are also the sort of lines that have won him diehard fans (J. K. Rowling and Terry Pratchett among them - both have made references to McGonagall in their work). Some have speculated that the poet may have been on the autism spectrum, and it's entirely possible. After writing to Queen Victoria to try and secure her patronage, and receiving an official rejection written by a royal functionary, McGonagall seems to have mistaken it for some form of validation from the Queen and would often describe her as an admirer of his work for the rest of her life.

It might seem cruel to draw attention to the work of an artist so clearly lacking in technical ability, but I am, like many others, genuinely fond of McGonagall and his work. A large part of the study of poetry is an attempt to get inside the mind, to understand the very soul of the poet. William McGonagall had a fascinating mind, and a unique soul.

I'll finish with a fragment, all that remains of an otherwise lost McGonagall poem, written to celebrate the unveiling of a statue of Robert Burns in Dundee in 1880:

The Burns Statue

This Statue, I must confess, is magnificent to see,

And I hope will long be appreciated by the people of Dundee;

It has been beautifully made by Sir John Steell,

And I hope the pangs of hunger he will never feel.

This statue is most elegant in its design,

And I hope will defy all weathers for a very long time;

And I hope strangers from afar with admiration will stare

On this beautiful statue of thee, Immortal Bard of Ayr.

Fellow-citizens, this Statue seems most beautiful to the eye,

Which would cause Kings and Queens for such a one to sigh,

And make them feel envious while passing by

In fear of not getting such a beautiful Statue after they die.

See where he sits on the stump of that tree

His eyes tuned to heaven his Mary to see,

A scroll at his feet, a pen in his hand

Writing to his Mary in the Better Land

#long post #William McGonagall #William Topaz McGonagall #poetry #Poets #Poems #Literature #Tay rail bridge disaster #queen victoria #Robert burns #Sorry about the long post #I don't know how to do read mores

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kaiju-z · 5 years

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Today’s summary is of a One-Shot DM’d by the lovely @langstymclangstface. Go visit their page and give them some love, for they are a talented writer and we had a hellaciously fun time playing this one shot together!

Seon Adventures Episode 20.5: “Crumbling Wax”, a Seon Adventures Halloween One-Shot

(Aka Nelatha’s Coochie Quest. The sequel title no one asked for :eyesemoji:)

It has been. A short while since our heroes have been in the city of Crystalgate, Capitol of the country of Aetorumia.

A costume festival is being held, bright and shining lights illuminating the night time sky above the wandering citizens as they pass by booths and tables of contents, finding entertainment for themselves and their loved ones.

Each and every one has made it their goal to wear a costume as ostentatious as the next, a sort of challenge between each other to see who can be the most in the spirit of the event.

High spirits are in the air, in spite of a problem that has arisen for everyone. Or most of everyone. A sickness has hit a substantial part of the populace and thus, people are using this evening as a gateaway from the bad vibes of their relatives being down for the count.

Some call it the end of the world, but they’re honestly being overdramatic dramatic.

Amongst the walkers of this town, there are four of the five members of the party “The Cultbusters”. Sadly, Belli is at home (I headcanon that Mournimar left Morgan with her, as we didn’t get a description of Morgan’s costume. So the good direwolf is there to be her comfort animal, along with familiar, Orion.) and she is siiiiiick. And thus, she is locked off at home, as are all that have been hit by this flu.

The rest of the party are lucky.

And the rest of the party are dressed up to their heart’s content!

Amelia wears the proud costume of a sea corsair. A daring, romanticized fersion of a pirate, with Archie as her fat little shoulder griffin, a pair of wings strapped to the chunky, hunky kitty’s back, a little beak on his face. He’s living his best life and loves his catmom.

Walking beside her, Nelatha Shadowspire’s joined the group yet again. Accompanying her lady friend Genasi, she is wearing a sexed up version of a Cleric’s uniform. Particularly, that of a Honos cleric. (She is basically a fantasy sexy nurse) And she is confident as hell in that outfit. She makes it work and she knows it.

Flanking them is Mournimar, who, while initially planning some other attire, has opted for the costume of a favored character of his from a classical play. He wears the rags of the infamous drug dealer, tomb raider, bard and poet, the Graverobber. And he is blue screening real bad on account of not being used to such festivities. With Belli on the sick bed, he is but inchest away from touching shoulders with his fellow tiefling.

He, of double disguises. Who, along with the elf baby have dressed up as the characters of Fangface and Fangpuss respectively. They are goofy outfits, but Luctan is having a ball with it, enjoying the cartoonishness of it all and the hilarity that he, someone already in disguise, is wearing a third skin now. And the baby is baby. He don’t care none.

Last, but far, far from least, Malak walks with his new traveling companions, wearing a skeleton costume. A onesie, his face painted up to appear skullish.

Together the five, plus the baby and cat, walk amongst the people as streamers fly overhead. People dance and play and drink to their heart’s content. In a various level of dress.

What catches their attention is that amongst the chaos there’s a man selling candles. A sign upon his booth states the title “The Candle Man”, as their noses are attracted by multitude of scents from these particular ones.

The closer they walk, the musical tunes of The Living Tombstone’s “Spooky Scary Skeletons” hail in repetition, much to the frustration and disguist of Nel, who’s bardic pride feels poked at with the ridicilousness of that tune.

Along the way to the Candle Man’s booth, Malak’s eye stops at a nice old fashioned game of bobbing for apples. His curiosity overtaking him, the human man gives it a go and dunks his head in the water, trying to be as dexterous as he can with his chompers.

He tries his best. Swinging his head left, right, center. Up and down, trying his damnedest to nab one of the apples. But alas, he fails at the task. From the outside perspective, someone has to walk on over to him and pull him out and back, as the Death Cleric looked like he was drowning.

Trying to give it a go himself, Mournimar enters the “battlefield” of fruit and preps to dive headfirst (as you do). Malak is the ever helpful man he is and places a hand on Mournimar’s shoulder for encouragement, casting Guidance on him.

Through a combination of the ranger’s skill in handling items and the Cleric’s holy magic, the tiefling nabs an apple. But not just your regular Granny Smith’s apple! This one is of a golden color.

“Congratulations, you won the grand prise!”

He is the victor of the game and earns himself a bag of candies from the vendor, a kind lady speaking in her best Applecore accent.

“Excellent!” exclaims Mournimar and offers the bag around. But be it because of a distate in sweets or a lack of hunger, he is left to feast on the candies himself. All the more for himself!

As they continue on, they pass by a number of establishments. From new age bars, to meat houses. Bakeries and the like, all theming their foods after the holiday that has been bestowed upon the masses, with skulls and pumpkins and bats and all sorts of crawlies.

Luctan asks around about the sickness. Most people suggest it’s a cold time of year, so it’s normal. There are a couple of people out of town, panicking a bit regarding a pandemic. Performers say they’ve lost a hood half of their act, because of this. Lost their voices and shit.

Mourni’s type of Orc walking around, basically looks him up and down, shakes his head and says they tried, but shit didn’t work

A fire genasi performs a juggling act with flaming knives nearby. Luctan, being the boy, who loves his pointy things that he is, goes for a closer watch of the show. The Genasi man waves at Luctan, between throws and tosses and twirls and spins of the burning blades.

Impressed with the performance, Luctan gives a gold piece and a bunch more Fire Genasi come out, juggling. Despite that they are very excited to perform for him and stuff, they haven’t said a single thing. To Luctan, it appears that they are just very dedicated to their craft. And he appreciates that.

(He loves a man, who can handle a blade. Somewhere Ficus has himbs a sneeze, probably.)

Nel is not amused. Why? Aside from the juggling, her resting witch face is earned from seeing Amelia approach a pet store, where they have cats dressed in little costumes.

And you can pet said cats.

Set up as advertisements and stuff. You can buy treats themed for each cat.

She picks up the quiet mewing of kittens from the back of the room, where people pay to have kittens crawl and paw over them.

While Malak enjoys a variety of Pumpkin Spice Lattés (And there are so MANY Pumpkin Spice Lattés) Amelia goes to the cats. There’s a nice lady holding two fat cats. And she gets to pet some cats. Lennard and Harry. They were married and had a ceremony last week and the kittens are in the back.

Amelia is tearing up. This is the best day of her life.

Good work is being done for these cats. She is warned about a certain cat boi who jumps on people and demands cuddles. Amelia seems to be prepared for this. Heavy is the ribcage that must contain so much love for felines.

Out of nowhere areally fat Scottish fold jumps and descends on her, which causes Nel to scream a loud screm.

In response, The cat looks at Nel and bleps.

This is the happiest day in Amelia’s life.

Cats are available for adoption.

With the cat on her head and the two in her arms, as well as Archie on her shoulders, she is virtually in cat heavan. If this is a dream, don’t let her wake up.

All the while, Malak gets free gingerbread with every latté. (Nel feels like the world’ll collapse around her over all the coffee.)

Eventually, with cats in tow, the party find themselves at the Candle Man’s store.

One very bored teenager fiddling with a candle. He looks like he can’t be bothered. As they get closer to inspect them, each one looks like a person. They seem to be made expertly, made in order of famous people, but they don’t recognize any of them.

Except for one.

Luctan vaguely recognizes one of the figures as the dancer!Zitra! But something seems off about it, like it was done in a hurry. Almost like someone wasn’t used to this, as opposed to the expert.

The young one explains that the candlemaker’s sick, so the kid had to rush ‘em. Luctan buys one of the Lady Zitra and an unknown dude. Then hands the young salesperson a pamphlet and encouraging words. He believes that they can do better!

Curious, Malak wants a candle made of him. But gets the strange explanation that a personal hairstrand is required for the wick. And backs off immediatelly.

Luctan and Mournimar have no idea what this is about. To Nel there seems to be more than he’s letting on. Sinister vibe coming off of him.

She’s noticed he hasn’t’blinked once since they met him, but a few minutes prior.

He’s very cagey about what his general job is, as opposed to the summer job.

It’s mostly, you know, ehm, bar keeping and cleaning.

At the Busty Wench. The one in town.

Nel doesn’t remember a franchise opening here.

On these revelations, the shadyness of the character, if Malak hadn’t changed his mind before, he most certainly had now.

Malak casts Zone of Truth.

The moment he casts the spell, something odd happens. No. Something horrid happens. The ground begins to melt.

All around them? Everyone starts melting as blobs of flesh and clothes and then they realize they’re surrounded by wax, which starts to pull and move towards the stand, which is slowly changing form until they start in front of a vague humanoid figure twice of Mournimar’s height.

Yeah...

The sign is very litteral.

Much to Amelia’s horror, all cats, but Archie, begin to melt. Gordon and Harry and the one on her head crumble and fuse and melt off and down to the ground below. Even the cats were fake.

The wax man has a big as smile. Whatever he is. the party had never heard of it before.

As he says that, he rises into the air and drops down and suddenly everything is melting into wax, white and overpowering scent of burning candle and the floor is disappearing beneath everyone’s feet.

BOGUS!”, to say the least.

Thinking fast, Nel uses Polymorph and changes into a giant eagle and grabs Amelia and Archie to move them to safety. Once in the air, she looks out into the horizon and in a perfect circle? She sees that the city is surrounded by a desert. And slowly-an-and- and melting?!

Malak is noticing that the fire jugglers, who but moments prior were catching and throwing burning blades, were now sleeping and drowning in wax.

He tries to save them, but isn’t strong enough to do a thng about all this.

From what the lot of the ‘busters can gather, apparently the sick people are the real ones. And they are sinking.

Wasting no further time, the rest of the party start climbing.

Arriving at the top, they see that the area they started from? There’s this vast and expanding black hole, going outwards. Up top, Luctan has a vague feeling that something isnt’real here, but there’s so much magic surrounding him, he cant’pinpoint what the illusion is.

All the while Mournimar strategizes with the polymorphed Nelatha.

Malak takes a notice that the hair sticking out of the wax candles is still there and he realizes that the figurines at the stall are left completely in tact.

Luck realizes that some of the people he tried pulling out had wax figurines.

The ones he was shown were selected so he wouldn’t recognize them. It is by mere chance that they had met the Lady herself. And thus, he acts upon a gut feeling. He removes the hairstring and the figurine cracks, before beginning a climb down to the candle booth. To repeat that on a grander level. And Mournimar follows, in spite of Luctan’s protests.

Nel is tasked with carrying the others away.

(And here we have a bit of a 2-3 minute break, because Cat’s mic was off for a good while. Because her kitten, the Little Man/Little Bastard as she calls him had turned it off. It was the funniest thing ever.)

As they part ways, Amelia casts Levitate on Luctan. Yell heah!

As Luck flies, he remembers he left Belli asleep in the Shadowspire Manor, which from his perspective, begins to melt. Cursing under his breath, he takes the figurines with a box and removes the hairs on the way to Belli’s as Mournimar sprints after him.

As they move, Mourni notices Luctan’s in tiefling form. And has a tail?!

The levitation drops eventually and Luctan falls on the ground. As he turns around, he sees he’s been chased by a fellow tiefling, but it’s not someone he recognizes.

Nel turns in her normal form forcibly as they travel and they are surrounded by strangers. Making her 3 point landing, Amelia notices a bird turning into a humanoid form and sadly doesn’t recognize Nel.

Everyone’s... surrounded by strangers.

A figure about Amelia’s height rises from the wax and says “Hello there, don’t be frightened. You’ve been saved.”

Luck see this form as well, but it’s smaller and childlike and feels an eerie sense of calm.

Mournimar, unfortunately, fails on a wisdom save and “ knows everything’ll be alright”.

As he realizes this, his features starts melting off, until Mourni is gone, replaced with a lump of wax.

Seeing all this madness happening around him, Malak casts Protection of Good and Evil and protects himself.

Luck feels Danger as he sees that someone start melting, which causes him to have... the freaks out. It’s this reason why he probably only too late notices he has his tail back?!

Feeling threatened by this wax fhild, Luctan casts Sacred Flame, which burns a hole through the child’s chest. Not falling for whatever niceties the child propheces, the red tiefling burst into a dash towards Belli’s location.

Mournimar is ordered to attack Luctan. And he does so, chasing after him, unsheathing the swords from his hips and attacking. All the while this big lump of wax follows along as the floor seems to start to swallow him.

Luctan gets attacked and the seering pain feels like fire. Looking at the wound inflicted by the possessed Mournimar, he realizes he’s made of wax. Out of anxiety and rage and frustration and pain, he goes on to react with a Hellish Punishment at his attacker and melts Mournimar?!

(BEGONE, TIEF!)

Malak makes an attack, casting Litch Slap on the monstrous child. He hadn’t prepared any combat spells, but at the very least he had this.

Chunks fly and hit Amelia and Nel and reveal wax underneath.

Nel bounces. Not recognizing anyone, she has no reason to be here.

The thing goes after Malak.

Amelia bounces as well.

She takes two steps, before a hand reaches out from the ground and grabs her, squeezing and burning.

With a strength, unmatched and one powerful crushing motion, Amelia’s head pops off. And she poofs out of existence.

Malak attacks with his axe and that has no effect. As Nel runs, tendrils are grabbing at her feet. “Nope-nope-nope-nope-nope.”

One successful tendril grabs and pulls her down.

Nel feels herself being pulled down into the wax and it pours down into the ground. She suffocates and no longer is within this realm of existence.

The tendrils go after Luctan, shifting into vicious spikes, but melt behind him, due to him perpetually casting Prestidigitation, applying sparks in the viscinity aorund him.

.He carries on like this, until the sensation of emptyness under him catches his attention.

And he starts falling.

And falling.

And. While still dressed in the Fangface costume, he tries to concentrate on hsi wings. Figuring he could create them at this point, he does so. Wax versions of his wings shape from his shoulderblades. And for a short moment, he manages to fly up.

Until the wings break apart.

And he starts falling yet again.

As spikes portrude from around him and impale him, taking him out as well.