#i should try a manticore next

[plutoons]

Some sphinx doodles!!

(Some close-ups under cut)

[inexplicifics]

If you're still doing snippets, I don't think we've had the Eldritch Trio one yet?

Also the Weird Omegaverse Warprize Thing is intriguing from the bits so far.... honestly I'm generally stoked for the entirety of the list.

If you feel like showing off one that hasn't been mentioned yet, blank space here!

Eldritch Trio:

The trio are all staring at Voltehre in bafflement as Lambert sits down. Well, Gweld is staring a little bit over Voltehre’s head. He never looks anyone in the eye unless he means to overpower their will. But the bafflement is still definitely there. “Hello,” Eskel says at last, a little warily. “Did you lose a bet?” “No,” Voltehre says, giving Eskel a sunny smile. “I wanted to say hello, and Lam thinks you’re fascinating.” Lambert covers his face with a hand and prays the Grasses really did destroy his ability to blush. “Fascinating,” Geralt rumbles, and Lambert shudders at the sound. It’s not fear running down his spine, though maybe it should be. “Fascinating,” Gweld lilts, sounding amused. Lambert puts his hands on the table to push himself upright - he isn’t going to stay here and be mocked, fuck Voltehre for dragging him into this - One of Eskel’s tentacles curls around his wrist. “Stay,” Eskel says. “Fascinating’s better than most of the things we get called when they think we can’t hear.”

Weird omegaverse war prize thing:

As the barbarians finish eating, they get up and leave the hall, without any ceremony whatsoever; by the time Jaskier has cleared his plate, the hall is three-quarters empty. And it’s as he’s setting his mug down empty - he has to admit he rather likes the strong tisane they were served - that a beautiful young woman gets up from one of the other tables, leans down to kiss the barbarian she was sitting next to on the mouth, and comes striding over to the omegas. She’s tall and blonde, with blue-grey eyes and a generously curved figure that suggests both strength and probable fertility, and as she gets close enough to smell, Jaskier realizes she’s an omega. He wracks his brain hastily, but he doesn’t think the young barbarian she kissed was one of those who claimed any of Jaskier’s companions, so she’s probably not coming over to assert her own prior claim to her alpha - “Hullo,” she says, sliding onto the bench across from Jaskier. “I’m Julita.”

And for the author's choice - knight!Milena

The first thing Lambert thinks when he sees the armored figure riding at the manticore is, Well shit, that’s a waste of a good horse. It is a good horse: an enormous black stallion, maybe even larger than Scorpion, with absolutely beautiful conformation. It dwarfs its rider entirely; Lambert, watching the coming catastrophe with a grimace, assumes some squire has stolen his knight-master’s mount and is trying to prove himself worthy of his spurs, and is just going to get himself eaten for his trouble. Manticores are basically only vulnerable at eyes and mouth, and the chances of the rider hitting either of those with a lance-tip from a full gallop are… Lambert’s own mouth drops open, and he stands there gaping like a complete nitwit as the rider’s lance takes the manticore squarely in its open maw, the full force of the horse’s weight behind it, and the manticore goes back on its haunches and then over onto its side, taking the lance with it. The rider reins in the horse, curving neatly away from the fallen monster, and trots around to face his defeated enemy, sensibly drawing his sword as he goes. The manticore is busy going through its death throes, though; the rider halts his horse and waits, alert but unmoving, until the creature finally breathes its last.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 17

Welcome to the beginning of the end, for the next four weeks I will be putting out the last chapters of this story. It's done. And I am sorry to see it go. I really loved writing this story even if it kept changing on me and evolving into what it is today.

In this chapter we have Jason being sneaky, Wayne and a new werewolf in town.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

~

Eddie and Steve were having a quiet walk about town, holding hands and talking softly to each other sweet things.

Or that’s how it looked on the outside.

They were actually on the hunt. Wayne had been teaching Eddie how to hunt like vampire the last two years, and Steve was learning how to hunt as a werewolf and not just as a man in a wolf suit from Nancy.

What were they hunting? The manticore. Steve’s stronger sense of smell would help them track the beast down, while Eddie’s extensive knowledge of its habits and haunts would narrow down where to look.

People often assumed that Eddie was bad at facts and dates but he wasn’t. He was actually pretty good at them, his problem in school was not doing the homework. He would ace every test, he’d just forget to turn in his assignments.

Hell, his first senior year got one of the Hellfire Club members mad at him because he scored in the top ten percent of the nation on a portion of the SAT. She was averaging an A- average in the class they shared together and thought that that meant she should have gotten in the top ten percent of nation instead of him. To say that things soured between them after that was an understatement.

All this to say that Eddie was smart. Smarter than people gave him credit for and not just how he figured out the meaning behind Patrick’s attack. He knew people. Differently then the way Steve knew people, but still he was clever and quick witted.

Eddie stopped in his tracks and jutted his chin across the street. “Isn’t that Jason Carver?”

Steve looked where he was indicating and frowned. “I thought your uncle said he was sick. What’s he doing in town?”

“Uncle Wayne’s been saying that Jason is becoming more and more withdrawn since Patrick was attacked,” Eddie explained. “He thinks he might have recommend Jason be brought to the full extent of the law, which is something Uncle Wayne really isn’t looking forward to.”

“But we’re trying to find Patrick’s attacker!” Steve protested. “I thought he would be happier that we’re trying to get justice for his friend.”

Eddie frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepened. “I think his hatred of werewolves and vampires goes deeper than his sense of justice for his friend.”

Steve shook his head. That just couldn’t be true. He knew Jason from basketball. You wouldn’t be able to find a boy more loyal to his friends than Jason Carver. But he raised his head and looked Eddie in the eye and knew. Jason had only showed him his good qualities because they were equals.

Eddie had seen the worst of the other boy. The sneering viciousness beneath the veneer of civility that he showed to those he thought lesser than him.

“We need to find the manticore before he breaks his masters bonds,” Steve whispered. “I’m more concerned what an unbound creature like that could do to this town, over someone like Jason.”

Eddie watched Jason for a moment more. The other teen did not seem to be up to anything nefarious, other than lying to Uncle Wayne, so he nodded.

But the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and the hairs on his arm stood up on end. There was a predator here. He looked around him.

“Babe?” Steve asked, reaching out to touch his elbow. “What wrong?”

“What do you smell just now?” he asked, searching the shadows.

Steve stilled. He scented the air. The wind was changing, but there!

“It’s a sharp metal tang in the air,” he murmured. “Like the scent of dried blood. It’s acrid.” He wrinkled his nose. “Foul.”

Eddie nodded. “That’s what I scented too, but now it’s gone. Whatever it was, though. It was not the manticore.”

Steve shook off a shiver that slid down his spine. “It was werewolf. But not one in my pack.”

“Banished you think?” Eddie asked as the wind shifted to carry the scent away from them. He could still feel the uneasy feeling down the pads of his feet. Whoever was out there was dangerous.

Steve tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing else we can do today. The rogue werewolf would have sent the manticore aground.”

Eddie nodded, the cat sìth was probably hiding the manticore’s scent anyway. “We need to talk to Wayne.”

~

Wayne listened intently to their report, soaking in everything they told him. He sat back and thought through it all.

“I think I know who the Banished you smelled in town is,” he said quietly. He handed Eddie the file he’d gotten from Sam and waited.

“Dr. Alexei Oborin,” Eddie read aloud. “That’s Nancy’s werewolf, right? The one she was sure caused a stir when she was little.”

Steve frowned. “She hasn’t told me anything about that.”

Wayne nodded like he wasn’t surprised. “She was waiting to see what that file contained. But I’m leaving it up to you if you want to share it with her. It’s has some pretty gruesome stuff.”

Steve nodded absently as he read over Eddie’s shoulder, the other man waiting until he was done before turning to the next page. No matter how much longer it took Steve than Eddie.

“The name of his bondmate is blacked out,” he said with that little frown of his that made Eddie want to bite him between the eyebrows for being too cute. “Do we know why?”

Wayne shook his head. “I’ve already pressed my source pretty hard to get the file. He could get fired if he doesn’t return it in a week.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance, but wisely said nothing.

“They were teenagers who were camping out in the woods near the pack compound,” Steve read. He frowned. “That’s strange.”

Eddie and Wayne’s heads snapped his direction.

“Look at the location of the two girls bodies...” he pulled out the photo in file and turned it to face Wayne.

Wayne looked at the picture and then back up at him. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at, if I’m honest here, Steve.”

“It’s something I learned recently from Nancy,” he replied. “I don’t fight like a wolf in wolf form. I don’t go for the jugular for example because I know as human how easy it is for a human to throw up their arms to protect that area of the body. I knock them over first and press my weight on their chest to make it harder for them to do just that.”

Eddie frowned, but Wayne looked back down at the photo.

“Shit!”

The arms and upper torso were torn to shreds, the way you would expect from a wolf attack, but the bodies themselves were arranged to make it look it was the work of a crazed werewolf. Like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Someone moved the bodies?” Eddie reasoned. “But why would Alexei do that if he thought the kids were hunters? There would be no reason to. It was supposedly self-defense.”

“Unless it wasn’t,” Wayne said, continuing his nephew’s thought. “What if the bondmate came and rearranged the bodies to plead insanity on Alexei’s behalf?”

Steve nodded. “And then when that didn’t work, they claimed that the kids were hunters.”

Wayne rubbed at the stubble on his chin wishing, not for the first time, that he had been changed with a clean shaven face.

“That make sense.”

Eddie closed the file and looked on the front of the folder. “VHS? Video Home System?” He tilted his head to the side.

Wayne snorted, then giggled. Suddenly the stoic vampire was laughing so hard, tears of blood rolled down his cheeks. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears.

“No, no,” he said around his feral grin. “It stands for The Van Helsing Society. But, dear god, I am going to use that on that bastard the next time I saw him.”

“As in Abraham Van Helsing?” Eddie asked, his eyes wide. “From Dracula?” He scooted forward to the edge of his seat.

Wayne nodded, still grinning. “The first name was changed but Van Helsing was a real person. Karl Van Helsing was the first to come up with the first policing body for supernatural beings. After the incident in London, it was pretty clear that people were going to start noticing that supernatural beings existed and he came up with The Van Helsing Society.”

“Pretty arrogant of him to name it after himself,” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes.

Eddie scoffed, throwing himself back against the sofa cushions. “Says the alpha of the Harrington pack.” Then he shook his head and muttered. “It had to be fucking cops.”

Steve just shrugged. “I never said that was also arrogant. I never understood why it wasn’t called the Hawkins Pack or Roane Pack considering being alpha isn’t hereditary.”

Wayne smiled at Steve. He had always liked him since he was a young boy learning that his parents had died. But he was really starting to like the man that boy had become, too. Because it was ridiculous that the pack hadn’t been named after the town or county it resided in.

“They are far more than just cops, Ed,” he warned. “They are a powerful group with abilities all their own. Crossing one of the Society isn’t the same as crossing a mortal or even supernatural cop, like Hopper. They are protected against possession, hypnotism, and even enthrallment.”

“Are they all descendants of the original dude?” Steve asked, pressing even closer to Eddie on the sofa. He didn’t like the sound of these supernatural cops either. Because where were they when he was being abused by the Franklins. He couldn’t even remember the night he first changed. He only remembered when he came to and he and Wayne were burying their bodies. He was just so grateful that the abuse was over that he really didn’t think of why.

But Wayne was shaking his head. “According to the records the last Van Helsing died during the oiliphéist riots of 1922 in Ireland.”

“That’s too bad,” Eddie said, cocking his head to the side. “As anti-vampire as the name has become a symbol of these days, I would still have liked to have met one of his descendants.”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve had the pleasure only once. Greta Van Helsing in 1871. She was a spitfire to say the least.”

Eddie ran his hands over his face. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck her...” he moaned.

“Not on your life,” Wayne huffed. “Even if she was immune to the whole agents and supes producing unhinged offspring, she was a lesbian and won’t have even spared me a glance.”

“Unhinged as in cool super powers, unhinged?” Eddie asked, lowering his hands from his face. “Or mental asylum unhinged?”

“Sadly the latter,” Wayne said mournfully. “The magic that they use to protect themselves from being controlled does nasty things to the natural magics supernatural beings are made of.”

“But Van Helsings were immune?” Steve asked, still pressed to Eddie’s side.

Wayne nodded. “Probably because like most things in nature needing a balance, the Van Helsings were naturally the balance to the supernatural creatures of the world. There are probably other families just like them, but Van Helsings are merely the most notable.”

“Makes sense,” Eddie said, taking Steve’s hand and giving it a squeeze. He could tell this talk of the Van Helsings was making him upset.

“In other news,” he said, “The Hughes, the Hollands, the Martins, and the Camerons are all willing to send in guards for Steve.”

“I wasn’t aware the Camerons were supernatural,” Wayne said rubbing his chin. “What are they?”

“Louie Cameron is a selkie, and Debra Cameron is a siren,” he explained. “Making their daughter Vickie one hell of a strong supe.”

Steve sat there with this confused pout on his face. “Guards? Why would I need guards?”

“I don’t trust the Pack right now,” Wayne replied. “There is more going on in that pack then meets the eye and I can’t be everywhere. Especially with Jason causing trouble in town. Patrick tried to warn me early on that Jason would try something like this, but I wanted to believe that there was good in their somewhere.”

Steve’s expression shuttered to a blank mask. “What do I do?”

“Just start hanging out with me and the others outside of the compound,” Eddie said, squeezing Steve’s hand again and covering it with his other hand.

“Okay,” he breathed. They were right, as much as Nancy wanted him to further integrate into the Pack, he needed to be on the outside to see what was going on and understand it.

And he knew the best way to do it, but it was going to take a lot of convincing. But he was up for the job.

~

Notes:

oilipheists are sea monsters from Ireland.

Cameron is the last name I gave Vickie from season four.

And the SAT (a test to determine how well you've learned your lessons over the course of the year not the college one) thing happened to me. I was doing poorly in English because of the stupid correcting sentences for grammar and punctuation bullshit (there is a very good reason I use betas) but when the results came back I got top ten in the NATION for reading comprehension. My friend in the class who getting A's in that class was so mad it wasn't her that she legit stopped talking to me because she was that sure I cheated.

Tag List: FOURTEEN SLOTS REMAINING

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @fullpoetrybread @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @thelittleclare

5- @goosesister @tinyplanet95 @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @y4r3luv

6- @fairytalesreality @anaibis @papergrenade @ravenfrog @blondie1006 @dreamercec

7- @thedragonsaunt @sadisticaltarts @kultiras @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman

8- @kal-ology

[hayanwulf]

Getting together fic wherein Stephen has a particularly bad hand pain day, and he struggles to hide it from a concerned Tony. Tony offers to give him some painkillers and massage Stephen's hands, and the touch starved, miserable sorcerer accepts. Tony massages his hands until the pills kick in, and then some just because, and eventually Stephen kisses him about it

Word count got completely out of hand. I regret nothing.

Stephen had woken up to throbbing pain in his hands, then had to deal with a manticore accidentally summoned by some idiots trying to summon ‘the devil’, then had to go to the fucking North Pole to close a dimensional rift there, and when he’d finally returned to the Sanctum, it was raining.

Overall, today was a fantastic day.

The Cloak had wandered off to somewhere shortly after their return from the North Pole. So now he sat alone and miserably in his study, grunting under his breath, hands half-buried under the bottom end of the MIT hoodie he was wearing. It was Tony’s hoodie — he’d had the privilege of getting to wear it for the first time only yesterday, and had instantly stolen it — and that was the only semblance of comfort he had right now.

His phone pinged and the screen lit up with a new notification. It was a message from Tony.

Would you like some carbonara?

No.. as nice as it would be to have lunch with Tony, Stephen’s hands wouldn’t even be able to handle the fork, let alone pick up some spaghetti without dropping it all over.

He would only make a fool of himself in front of Tony.

He picked up his phone with a very shaky hand, painstakingly unlocked the screen, and then spent the next few minutes just trying to type out two words without messing up. At times like these, he thought that he should really have accepted Tony’s offer for a better, more accessible, voice-command phone.

But.. but that would be admitting that he couldn’t even do simple, normal, everyday tasks by himself.

No. Stephen was more than capable of doing completely normal tasks all by himself.

He did not need anyone’s help, much less their pity.

After much grueling effort, he had finally typed out the words in his phone. He tapped the send button.

not hungry

His text was was almost immediately marked as read. Tony didn’t send another reply, though.

He realized, a little belatedly, that he probably looked like an asshole. Tony had been trying to invite him to lunch, and he’d outright rejected.

Tony’s typing bubble appeared after a few moments, drawing Stephen’s attention. It disappeared and reappeared a couple of times. But it didn’t take Tony long to send a text.

I’ll bring some over anyway, maybe Wong would like some. I made it, btw. Was proving a point to Capsicle. There’s plenty of leftover.

Oh. Tony had made it himself.

He had wanted to invite Stephen to lunch that he had made himself.

Well. Stephen positively looked like an asshole.

He flopped his head down on his desk, groaning lightly at his own stupidity. He was an utter and complete failure of a partner.

This day just kept getting better.

He turned his head where it rested on the desk to stare out through the window.

There was a time when he used to love the rain. Rain was comfort and calmness. The sound of raindrops hitting the earth was soothing, it made the soil’s scent pleasant, it lowered the temperature to an enjoyable level that made you want to sit near a large window with a book in your lap, a hot cup of aromatic tea on the table in front of you, and just enjoy the weather. What was there to not like about rain?

Now.. now Stephen loathed rain.

The drop in atmospheric pressure was never kind to his hands. It pulled and strained his joints and muscles, until they would scream in pain.

As it stood, that was exactly what the rain was doing to his hands right now.

It had only been a few minutes when the Sanctum notified him of Tony landing on the porch. Quickly getting up from the desk, he changed out of Tony’s hoodie with a quick motion of his hand, changing into his sorcerer robes.

When Tony was in through the door, he reached for the Sanctum’s energy and teleported the genius into his study, who took a second to rebalance himself upon blinking into existence in front of Stephen.

“Ugh, really freaky,” Tony said, shaking his head a little to dispel the momentary disorientation. “You do know that I’m capable of just walking over to you myself, like a normal human being?”

“You’ll live,” Stephen said, reaching for some books lying on his desk to collect them, hopefully making it look like he had been studying and not miserably lamenting over his hands. “And Wong is not on Earth today.” He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from grunting as a particularly sharp sting of pain shot up his right hand when he held three books in a stack.

“Oh, is that so.” Tony looked down rather somberly at the bag on his hand, then huffed. “Well, he’ll miss out on the best carbonara ever.”

Stephen looked down at the stack of books in his hands for a moment, then looked up at Tony. “Have you eaten yet?”

Tony shrugged. “Not really.”

“Have you brought enough for two people?”

Tony eyed him curiously. “I’ve brought enough for three people.”

For Tony, he could do this much, right? “Let me put these books back, and then we can eat together?”

Tony smiled, eyes sparkling with delight. “Let’s do that.”

Few minutes later, they in the kitchen.

Tony gleefully served the spaghetti into two plates, setting one down in front of Stephen, and sat down next to him with his own serving.

Stephen stared down at it. God, it smelled heavenly. He had no doubt that it would taste just as amazing. But..

The cursed fork.

Stephen quietly sighed, able to feel Tony’s expectant gaze on him. Well, he’d chosen this.

Tentatively, he picked up the fork with a shaky hand. His grip was shit, and trying to tighten it around the metallic handle made his muscles spasm. With whatever shaky grip he managed, he dug the fork into the spaghetti to try and lift some, that was when he heard Tony curse under his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t even think of that,” Tony said, getting up. He reached to take the fork off of Stephen’s hand.

“Stop,” Stephen told him firmly, and Tony stilled. “Don’t. I can use a fork just fine, Tony.”

Tony was quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to. We can order something else.”

“No. You made this.”

“Yeah but that was just to prove Capsicle that I do, in fact, know how to cook food and can do it really well. We don’t have to eat this, let’s—”

“I want to,” Stephen insisted, cutting Tony off. “I want to taste the food you’ve prepared with your own hands.”

Tony’s expression was a conflicting mix of concern and warmth. “Alright..” He sat down.

And Stephen wasn’t lying. He really did want to taste food of Tony’s hands. It wasn’t just for Tony’s happiness, though that did make it all the more worth it.

If he had to sit through a bit of pain and struggle for that, so be it.

He tried again, stabbing the fork into the spaghetti, and lifted up a small amount. His hands shook, and some strands of the pasta fell back into his plate. He still managed to put some into his mouth.

Goodness, it was so much better than he’d thought. He let out a low appreciative hum as he chewed it.

“This is.. amazing, Tony,” he told Tony, who preened with a wide grin on his face.

“Of course it is. I made it, after all,” Tony crowed, stuffing his mouth with some spaghetti.

Stephen rolled his eyes and dug his fork into his plate again.

His enjoyment died down rather quickly, as his hand spasmed more with each time he tried to scoop up some spaghetti. It got harder to not drop the strands, or even keep holding on to the fork. Tony must have noticed, he thought, but was choosing not to speak on it.

Stephen preferred it that way.

There was simply no need to make a big issue out of this.

“Here,” Tony said only moments after that, making Stephen turn towards him. The genius was holding his forkful of spaghetti extended towards Stephen.

“What?” Stephen asked.

“Let me feed you,” Tony explained, raising his fork closer to Stephen in emphasis.

Stephen gave him an affronted look. “What? No! I’m not a child.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown ass man who doesn’t know how to ask for help. Yes, I know. That’s why I’m giving it.”

“Tony, I can eat by myself.”

Tony sighed. “Just let me do it, alright? Just like you wanted to eat my dish, I want to do this. It’s an act of service. I like doing it. Lemme do it.”

Douchebag. Using Stephen’s reasoning against him.

Stephen looked down at the fork in his shaking hands, then up at the fork being offered to him by Tony’s firm, steady hand. He sighed and dropped his fork back on his plate.

Tony gave a small, warm smile when Stephen ate from his hand.

“It wouldn’t kill you to ask for help every now and then, y’know,” Tony murmured in a low, gentle voice.

It certainly would kill Stephen’s pride, if not him, to ever ask for help from anyone in this plane of existence.

“You’ll live, I promise,” Tony added rather dryly; whether to his previous statement or if he read Stephen’s mind, Stephen wasn’t sure.

Even now, Stephen thought, he should feel embarrassed for needing help with something so trivial as eating. But..

But he didn’t.

The way Tony fed Stephen and himself with the same fork, eyes so warm and with a brilliance that could make the sun appear dull, the way he genuinely enjoyed servicing Stephen, thoughtful and patient with his action of feeding him.. Stephen didn’t feel like he was being looked down on. He didn’t feel pitied, he didn’t feel disabled.

He simply felt loved.

They ate in relative silence, save for Tony’s occasional rants on something or the other. Stephen was content to just listen and enjoy the closeness.

When they were done, Tony picked up the dishes and moved to the sink to wash them.

“Do you have painkillers?” The genius asked as he placed the clean dishes on the drying rack, and it really shouldn’t have surprised Stephen. Of course Tony had picked up that his discomfort was more than just not being able to hold a fork.

“In my room, yes,” Stephen replied. “But that won’t be needed.”

Tony tiredly rubbed his fingers over his eyes, then gave Stephen a deadpan expression that spoke ‘I’m not taking your bullshit today’.

“Really, it’s fine,” Stephen insisted.

A minute later, they were in Stephen’s room.

Tony made him sit down on the bed, handed him a pill of Naproxen, all the while grumbling under his breath something about ‘stubborn wizards’. Stephen popped the pill into his mouth, and Tony helped him gulp down a glassful of water before setting the empty glass away.

“Does it help to massage your hands?” Tony asked.

Stephen hesitated. He knew what question would follow that one.

But.. but perhaps a part of him wanted to be asked that.

“It does.”

Tony gave him a curious look, eyes open and almost pleading. “Would you let me..?”

Stephen bit the corner of his lip. He looked at the window that showed it to still be raining outside, then down at the hands on his lap, then back up at Tony.

“..Yes.”

Tony’s eyes eased into an invisible smile. He went around the bed, climbed from the other side, and settled himself at center of the large bed, back leaned against the headboard. He coaxed Stephen closer to him, who followed and leaned himself partly against the headboard, partly on Tony, and gave up his hands to Tony’s care.

Tony frowned at Stephen’s robes in distaste. “Are you seriously gonna wear that in bed too?”

Stephen huffed out a breath. He hadn’t exactly given it a lot of thought when Tony had landed in front of the Sanctum; he’d just wanted to hide Tony’s hoodie away.

With a quick motion, he changed into his own comfortable clothes — no, not Tony’s, he would not let Tony claim his MIT hoodie back anytime soon — and then relinquished his hand back in Tony’s hold. “There, happy?”

“Very fucking much. I don’t get how you can put up with wearing that 27 hours a day.”

Tony began to massage his hands. He was so gentle and careful with them, applying the lightest of pressure, massaging from the wrists slowly down to each finger. The touch of his warm fingers on Stephen’s cold ones felt soothing. In between the massage, Tony’s touches, at times, softly traced over the scars. But they never once felt intrusive. They felt like the delicate caress of a flower against a butterfly’s wing, harmless and gentle and so, so careful.

It was nice. It was safety and care and love. The pain was slowly forgotten, and Stephen’s mind was slowly lulled into a state of peace and comfort.

A moderately loud thunder crackled, and Stephen looked at the window to find it was absolutely pouring outside. The temperature had also fallen further by a few degrees. Sitting pressed against Tony and sharing their body heat, the temperature didn’t bother Stephen, nor his hands with how tenderly they were being cared for.

There was no book here, no tea, no large window to watch the rain outside. But, Stephen thought, that this weather was actually rather enjoyable.

Stephen never allowed anyone to touch his hands in such a way, or, hell, touch his hands at all. It was asking for too much trust, too much vulnerability on his side.

But with Tony.. Tony made it easy to lend him the trust, to share this vulnerability. It was so easy to let down his walls, allow this genius man in, and let him carve out a corner for himself in Stephen’s heart.

Vishanti, he was in love with this man, mind, soul, and body.

“How do you feel now?” Tony asked, looking up at Stephen with those brown, beautiful, expressive eyes.

Stephen simply leaned in, capturing his lips in a loving kiss. A sound of surprise escaped Tony’s lips, that turned into a delighted laugh as he reciprocated the kiss. Stephen channeled all of his affection, savoring Tony’s lips, hoping it communicated the sheer love he felt towards the genius.

When they parted, Stephen continued to pepper his jaw with more kisses. “Thank you, Tony,” he said as they leaned their foreheads together.

“Anyday for my Sweetcakes,” Tony said, and Stephen didn’t have to open his eyes to read the content smile on Tony’s face. His voice was more than enough.

[flightyquinn]

Letting Players Feel Smart in Combat

or, "Running Encounters with an Information Economy"

PREAMBLE: Something that frustrated me for a long time as a player in TTRPGs was how hard it could be to guess enemy tactics. There are a lot of things that you can do with good tactics, but a lot of the time you lack the information to use those tactics. For example, setting up a prepared action to counterspell just wastes your turn if nobody tries to cast anything. This can be especially frustrating when you're up first in the initiative, and don't have much more than just a description of who/what you're fighting to go off of.

AN ANECDOTE: One day I decided to try an experiment. Each round of combat was supposed to be happening in the same six seconds of elapsed time, right? So, the next time I went first, I asked my GM if I could see what the enemies were doing - everything was happening at the same time, so I should be able to read their body language, the directions they were starting to move, and where they were looking to get an idea of how they were going to act, right?

As I honestly had been expecting, my GM said no. It wasn't their turn yet, so they weren't doing anything yet. I resolved that I did not want to run my own games that way, so I came up with some ways that when I ran a game, I could help my players to not be going into battle completely blind.

THE POINT: Tipping players off to enemy tactics is just good GMing. When they get a "read" on an enemy, they'll feel like an absolute genius. When the party plans for what the enemy will do and uses tactics to put the odds in their favor, they will lose their minds over how cool they feel. Here's a couple things I do to make that happen.

The first is giving enemies tells for what they're planning, which sounds simple, but actually requires a change to how encounters are typically run. Basically, you should know what an enemy will do before their turn, and typically at the end of the last one. Then you narrate them doing something to hint at that as part of their action. For example, a dragon might inhale deeply before using its breath weapon, or a manticore might slowly go from lashing its tail from side to side to holding it stiff as it prepares to launch a volley of spikes.

You don't have to stay committed to a course of action once you've given a tell, but if the players do something that would cause an enemy to reconsider its tactics (or determine them, if you hadn't decided anything for it yet), that's another time to give a tell. For instance, you might have already described a dire wolf lowering on its haunches as it starts stalking toward the ranger, ready to pounce, when the halfling rogue stops taking cover behind the fighter. In that case, you might describe the dire wolf shifting its stance, licking its lips as it turns its attention to this weaker-looking prey.

There's no need to give a tell for every action, of course. That would get taxing for you, and tedious for the party. Generously sprinkling in clues as to key things enemies want to do can keep players engaged, and help them break through the indecision about what to do with their own turns, though.

That brings me to my other trick. If you read the anecdote section above, this is something I came up with as a direct result of that. I decided to add a special action type that is just for the players, the "Observe Action". Every player gets one Observe Action on each of their turns that they can use in a number of ways to get more information about the conditions on the battlefield, or to gain an advantage.

The first use is just applying their skills in the normal way. If they could use a skill to recall information about a particular creature, they now do this as an Observe Action. This one is technically an explicit nerf in Pathfinder, since recalling is stated to be no action, but I find that most groups only check on one monster at a time anyway, and on the occasions when they don't, starting combat with check spam just slows the action down, so I include it. It usually doesn't hurt anything, and having it on the list can actually remind players that doing this is a thing they can do in the first place.

The second is also more or less a bookkeeping task, and that's using informational magic, like the Detect spells. It doesn't change the cast time, but once the spell is up, any further focus to gain more information uses their Observe Action. This is mostly just to remind players they can have these going while they fight, but I do also make any part of using the spell once cast that would normally be a Standard Action into an Observe instead, as a small bonus.

The third use, and the first truly new option, is to "read" a group. This is similar to recalling information, but allows for some different questions to be asked. Use these as a baseline.

Who has the highest/lowest HP?

Who can deal the most damage with physical attacks.

Who has the highest bonus to hit?

General "lean" of the group's alignment. (Most common alignment component on a single axis.)

How challenging does this fight look? (General CR range of the encounter, described as Easy, Average, Challenging, etc...)

Individual with the highest/lowest value in a particular ability score.

Highest/lowest value in a particular saving throw.

Basically, this option is there to help players decide who to focus their attention on. Let them use it for whatever will help them get a better idea of who or what they're facing. Let them ask their main question up-front before rolling to establish the check (whatever skill and DC seems appropriate), but let them ask additional questions after if they get a high roll.

It goes hand in hand with the last option, which is gauging intent. This one should probably be done with Insight/Sense Motive, and it just comes down to that original question. What's going to happen next?

The first way this can work is that the player focuses on a specific enemy, and gets a sense of what that enemy specifically intends to do. In other words, the player tells you who they want to get a "tell" for, and if they succeed, you give it to them.

Alternatively, the player might ask if anyone in the enemy group is about to take a specific action. For example, "Is the cleric about to get targeted." or "Does anyone look like they're going to call for backup?" So basically, instead of focusing on the behavior of one individual, the player is staying alert for a particular situation. Don't let the players get too broad with this one, of course, but it's okay to be a little generous with what they can ask about.

Even more than when I advised it above, if someone successfully gauges the intent of their enemy, and that intent changes, let them know. You should treat a success as them continuing to be alert to what they were observing for until their next turn.

I also toyed with the idea of letting players use their Observation to look for openings to improve their chance of hitting, or for a weak spot to do more damage. I like the idea of this, but felt like it stepped on the toes of other, existing options too much, and would be too tempting to players over the other uses. So I decided to keep Observation Actions as purely a source of information, and not directly pumping numbers. Still, if it sounds like it would work for you, try it out.

For everyone who read this incredibly long post of mine, I hope it helps you out. I haven't done a post like this in a long time, and I really appreciate you taking the time to read it. If these rules improve anyone else's games, hearing that would really make my day.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden/Lambert angst

C/W character death

Aiden groaned, trying to simultaneously rub the sleep from his eyes and move his hair off his face. Crap, when had he fallen asleep?

Someone let out an amused huff next to him, "Mornin' Sunshine."

Aiden's breath left him in a shaky exhale as he flipped his body to fully face the other side of the bed.

"Lambert?"

"You expecting someone else?" He asked arching an eyebrow.

Aiden saw his cocky expression morph into one of concerned panic just before his vision started to blur.

"Oh shit, Aiden. Please don't cry."

Aiden didn't need to be able to see Lambert to know that the other would be looking like one of his own bombs was about to go off in his face. He could almost feel the heat from Lambert's hand as it hovered awkwardly in the vicinity of his shoulder. His Wolf never did know how to handle tears, from anybody.

"I'm sorry, Lambert. I'm so sorry!"

"For what? It's not like you're the one that pumped me full of venom."

"Which happened because you shoved me out the way! You stupid-" Aiden broke off as another sob shook his entire body, "You should have let me take the fucking hit."

"Like I was gonna do that. Besides, outcome would still be the same. Just reversed."

Aiden could hear the shrug. His sob turned into a snarl as the others nonchalants filled him with anger.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" He demanded, scrubbing furiously at his eyes to glare at the other, tears still falling, "This is all my fault. I know it, you know it. Your family-"

"Won't blame you." Lambert interrupted firmly, "They all know the life. Something like this was bound to happen eventually and Vesemir gave his word you're as much an honorary Wolf as Coen, remember?"

Aiden felt fingers ghost through the ends of his hair, "They won't punish you for something I did. Despite what people think I'm capable of thinking for myself and I don't regret it."

Aiden could only lie there and take in the others still haggard appearance as he continued playing with his hair. Golden eyes slightly sunken and surrounded by dark circles that had nothing to do with potions, skin too pale apart from the spider web disappearing under the neck of his tunic, showing the path of the manticores venom. More than anything, Aiden wanted to reach out to him but something was holding him in place, warning him the moment would be gone if he moved.

"Try and get some more sleep, you look about as good as I probably do right now. I promise it's going to be alright, Kitten. Just, don't cry over this again, it's not worth it. I'm alright, honestly. Nothing hurts anymore and I'm going to be right there with you. Please don't cry."

"Lambert, I.." The rest of the declaration drifted as Aiden's eyes suddenly felt incredibly heavy, drifting closed of their own accord.

The last thing he was aware of was Lambert giving that crooked grin he loved so much, "I know. You too. So damn much."

The pillow was damp when Aiden woke and he didn't need to check the other side of the bed to know it would be stone cold. He buried his nose into the soft, worn fabric of the tunic he'd tucked by his head, already dreading the day the scent would be truly gone.

It was some sort of cruel mockery that he could see the start of the mountain pass leading to Kaer Morhen from his window. He never thought it was a journey he'd have to make alone but Lambert's family needed to hear it from him rather than through gossip in the spring. They needed to know what had happened to their youngest Pup.

Part of him hoped Vesemir would disregard past claims and...what? Banish him, execute him? At this point he'd happily take anything the remaining Wolves saw fit to dish out. Penance for breaking his one promise to them.

"I promise I'll keep him safe."

Aiden couldn't put it off any longer and - if he were being honest with himself - he didn't want to. He grabbed his pack from by the door, hyper aware of the silver Wolf's head tucked away safely, ready to join it's brethren on the medallion tree. The thought caused a fresh wave of grief to wash over him, "Sorry, Lambert." He whispered, wiping his eyes quickly, but not quickly enough to stop a few tears falling.

It looked like this was to be a journey of broken promises.

[surroundedbypearls]

Five Lines Tag

Thank you for tagging me @sodaliteskull! You can find their post here.

This is such a fun tag idea I hadn't seen before, I'm excited to get into it!

Rules: Find five lines based on the prompts, then change one prompt at the end for whomever does it next.

Tagging @lady-redshield-writes, @mrbexwrites, @toribookworm22, @sarandipitywrites

Prompts for you will be:

A line said jokingly

A line said by a love interest

A line said on the first or last page

A line said with sarcasm

A line said to an enemy

Prompts I got were as follows:

A line said to an enemy

"Interfering and trying to draw him out early, as you did, is extremely dangerous.” “But, sir…that’s not what happened.” Adam leaned forward in his seat, hands clenching his knees. He wasn’t like Henry. He chose to leave, to disobey. Adam had no intention of doing anything but helping that boy. “He was already drowning. He wasn’t going to make it. I was trying to save him.”

A line said with fondness

“You said I was knocking them back. How’d you know that?” Was this what people meant when they talked about liquid courage? He suddenly felt like he could do anything. Maybe he should go back and see if Brian wanted to go for another round. “Paying attention to me, were you?”

A line that is whispered

He scarcely realised Caleb had squashed up close to him, arm looped around his until he heard his whisper. “It’s a fucking manticore.” It slept with its back turned to them, but Adam would have recognised one anywhere. Its tail, scaled and armoured with a scorpion’s sting, swished like a cat’s, but the great, hulking body of lion muscle was grotesque, hideous.

A line that drops some lore

“The healers come in here to study all the time. Especially Sara.” Shay reached up and plucked an orange from the tree, and held it out.  Adam took it. “I always figured they learned more modern types of medicine.” “They do. But there’s a lot you can pick up from a place like this, too. You never know when it might be useful.”

A line that is shouted

“Listen to the earth.” “Who is that?” He looked around, raised his voice to call. “Who are you?” It hurt to shout. He touched his throat, trying to cough. It felt like he’d been screaming for hours, like he’d been out in the cold all night with no shelter.

TCTS taglist:

@quilloftheclouds, @heldinhishands, @celestialbunnistories, @onedayiwillwritestuff, @musicofglassandwords, @waterfallwritings, @lyssthewriter, @drowsy-quill, @inky-duchess, @downspiral-dreamer, @kespada, @adaparkwrites, @where-writer-herewriter, @hysteriwah-archive, @writingbyjillian, @florraisons, @nonsemsical, @blueinkblot, @aalinaaaaaa

[brideofdiscord-rewritten]

Bride of Discord Chapter 6: The Decision

the next day, now the beginning of the next month Kimono knocked quietly at the door of the hut. The gentle roll of her hoof on the oak door gave way to the clinks of hanging metal decorum and the rattles of wood hanging next to the shiny wind chimes. There was the audible announcement of her dear friend. The door opened, notably without creaking.

"Kimono dear, please, come in! Sit down with me and let's begin."

The pony loved her peaceful greetings. "Thank you very much for inviting me here. I'm sure that you can give me all the facts without bias, from outside of ponyville."

"In that case, please be wary, what I will tell you is quite scary! Discord has angered me too, so unbiased fact I cannot give you!"

Kimono snorted. "If I get caught with fake news you're coming down with me!"

"no my friend, you're sorely mistaken! If you are caught I won't be Forsaken!"

"YOURE COMPLICIT! THERE CAN BE NO WITNESSES!"

They howled in laughter as they pretended to square up, before they stopped only because zecora nearly knocked down a jar of roots.

"Ive known the week's chaos as the product of discord's reign throughout equestria from letters. I wrote much down whilst touring ponyville. But I have no idea what happened at the canterlot castle, nor do I know what is happening in this forest."

Zecora spoke slowly, so as to give the pony across from her time to write it all down for the archives. kimono was the keeper of all pony history, and did her best to upkeep her reputation as the mare to go to for knowledge. Zecora looked on as she scrunched her face, stuck her tongue out, and attempted to focus and knew she could be a pony that learns around her. They were mutualists and learned from each other.

Her train of speech of interrupted with Kimono's questions.

"and what of his demands?"

Zecora tensed and scratched her chin. "A bride he demands, as well as land. His next demand is awfully unique. They can't use the elements to defend the meek."

Kimono sipped her Rooibos mango tea.

"and what would he want- in a PLOTTING manner, with a bride?"

"A "plotting manner" is precisely the issue, to hurt his bride I don't think he'd wish to. Perhaps it's love the creature seeks? I don't know, to me he won't speak."

"it has to be somepony... Somepony who can handle prolonged isolation."

"Applejack sent a letter a while back, saying that fluttershy's about to crack. She considers marrying the draconequus. Apple's trying to disparage this wish."

Kimono frowned, her eyebrows screwing up into a sympathetic expression. "Maybe fluttershy thinks it'll bring her purpose. When ponies make big decisions such as this, a sense of inferiority or insignificance is the root cause."

"if that's where the decision resides, she should know she's made great strides."

"Let's send her a letter, I will help you!"

Another 30 minutes passed and betwixt tea, parchment, and ink the ponies sent Fluttershy a letter of comfort and as much advice as they could give. Zecora advised Kimono to sweep the path leading up to where she lived, for fear of evil forces affecting her. Of course, not before sweeping her own porch and blowing up on it cinnamon from her hoof.

"Applejack, some pony has to go with him. What choice do I have?"

"There are plenty of ponies in Equestria! It doesn't have to be you!"

"But how many do you think would be willing to go?"

"I…well…"

"This is my choice, Applejack. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Sugar Cube. I've seen you face up to a manticore and a full-grown dragon. But Discord…" She sighed. "Look, I just don't want you to get hurt, and I know the others don't wanna lose you to that…"

"If I don't go, no one will. The sun will never be in your pastures again!"

Applejack stared up at her friend with blurry eyes and then hung her head. "I can't stop you shug. I want'cha to be happy with the rest of your life, y'know."

"I can be happy this way applejack." The mare lifted her friend's head with her gentle hoof, caressing her Cheech as gently as she could while a small tear soaked into her coat.

"Just…promise me you'll write. And even if he don't let ya see the letters, just know I'll still be writin' em."

The cold and unyielding castle they housed felt warmer.

Fluttershy embraced her friend. "I knew you'd understand, Applejack." When she pulled away, she smiled smugly. "So what's this with you and rainbow? You've both been going to Rarity's more often!" The farm pony bolted upright

Applejack turned beet, (or rather apple,) red. "It ain't nothin'! Really! It's just an idea!"

"What would THAT be, applejack?"

"Rarity really likes us both real bad, but she dont wanna date just one mare. It's this poly-whatsit thing..." her very ears seemed to flush red. "Me and dash ain't dating, but we're both... goin steady with Rarity. It's kinda embarrassin'. Ya can't tell any pony, ya hear?"

Fluttershy giggled. She squealed in awe "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye! You're just like a filly again!"

Applejack nudged her shoulders.

Fluttershy said nothing and headed towards her room. Applejack caught up with her before she could close the door.

"Fluttershy," she called, "whatever you choose, I just want you to know…"

She turned to her. "Yes?"

"You…you just might be the bravest pony I've ever known."

Fluttershy smiled, knowing that it was always the truth with her. "That really means a lot to me, Applejack."

That night, she slept lightly, slumped over a large circular pillow, and a small parchment wrapped in her hooves. of, and the words that her friends had written: "He may not be an angel from above,but perhaps what he needa is love" The words soothed her. The more she thought about it, the less worried she was. She was scared, but never terrified. She liked to think it was all true. Discord is an animal just like her, so he surely has a heart, doesn't he? And hearts are the symbols of love.

Twilight gazed out her window. The sun hadn't risen in the week leading up to this month. The moon seemed to fly away from the earth. There was nothing left amongst the clouds. There was nothing. This was the before, the dreamscape.

A cry from Rainbow Dash interrupted her thoughts. "YO EVERYONE! Twilight! You'se not gonna believe it!"

"What is it?" the princess demanded.

"It's Fluttershy, she's gone! She freakin' did it!!"

Twilight didn't waste a second and followed the pegasus to Fluttershy's room. Rarity, Pinkie, Applejack and Spike surrounded the empty bed. The dragon held a note in his claws. The unicorn removed it with her magic and read it aloud:

"Dear Fluttershy,

Do not let the needs of the few outweigh the needs of self. In turn, the needs of your mind being filled will save everyone who matters. Go to the draconequus, if it's truly what you wish. He's not be an angel from above, but perhaps what he needs is love."

Every pony turned suspiciously towards Applejack, who bore the expression of a foal who'd eaten a lemon for the first time.

The cowgirl stomped her hoof. "She did it! She gone and did it! I tried to talk her out of it, I really did! She made me Pinkie Promise not to say nothin' before she did it!"

"Calm down, Applejack. What happened?"

What would've been daybreak. The sun should've illuminated the foggy dew kissing the plants that reached towards the great pink-orange heavens. Instead, there was what only looked like night.

She took a deep breath and looked up at them with tears in her eyes.

"Hello?" she called out weakly. "Anyone home?"

Fluttershy stood at the cave entrance. A part of her was telling her to turn back, but another was telling her to go in. She had to do this for her friends, for the princesses, for Equestria. She inhaled deeply and walked in.

It was dark, but that's not what frightened her. She had the feeling that he was going to jump out at any moment. Stop it, Fluttershy, she told herself. You need to be brave.

"Well, well, well."

She yelped in surprise and spun around to find the draconequus standing over her.

"If it isn't the Element of Kindness herself? How nice of you to drop in!"

Suddenly, the ground beneath her disappeared and Fluttershy screamed as she fell through a hole. She landed with a thump and looked around to find that she had landed in the same spot that she had fallen.

"How did…?" she stammered.

Discord laughed maniacally. "Oh, that was priceless!" He wiped away a tear. "So what brings you here, horsey? Come to negotiate some more?"

Fluttershy struggled to stand, as her knees were shaking. "Well, I have come to negotiate something…" the term "horsey" made her blood boil.

"Strange that Twilight would send you to try to reason with me. Well, you can tell your precious princess that I will only take a bride and that's final!"

"And a bride you shall have!"

Discord stared at her, shocked at her sudden outburst. "Is that so? Well, where is the lucky mare?" His outfit appeared as that of a game show host.

Her teeth started chattering. "R-right…h-here."

He blinked. "Say again?"

Fluttershy closed her eyes and straightened up. "I will be your bride."

For a long while, there was silence and she opened her eyes to see his face full of confusion. Then he erupted into a roar of laughter.

"Oh, I get it! This is a joke, right? Alright, who put you up to this? Twilight? Maybe that prankster Pinkie Pie?" She did not respond. "Rainbow Dash?"

"They…don't even know I'm here. Well, they should by now. I left them a note."

"Why would you leave them a…? Nevermind!" Buzzers and Foghorns pelted her ears. Flashing colorful neon lights and confetti brightened up the scenery.

He would have never expected her, the pegasus afraid of her own shadow, to accept his offer. Actually, he was beginning to think no pony would come forth at all.

"And no pony put you up to this?"

She shook her head. "This was my decision. But…" She backed away nervously. "If you'd rather have some pony else…"

"Now hold on!" She jumped as he appeared behind her. "I didn't say I wasn't interested."

He circled her, studying her carefully from every angle. Comedically, of course; with an oversized magnifying glass he examined her like a crime scene. He'd never stand there and check her out like a pervert. He lifted the mare's hoof and studied her well kempt horseshoes. Her hooves, which had been through so much for years, perfect because of this hunk of metal.

"hey now, where'd you get that made? And does it come in more sizes?" He popped off his hoof and showed her the size 13 mens' label.

Discord had to admit, for a pony, she wasn't that bad to look at. Her silky pink mane was well-groomed and smelled of honeysuckle, her big teal eyes, though closed now, were almost adorable, and her voice was sweet as honey. This must have been a trick of some sort. There was no way this pony could have come out of her own free will, but he knew she wasn't a trickster. Besides, when was he going to get another chance to do this!

He poofed a giant boom box now held above his head as he stood there, in a white snapback, open white button up shirt, and baggy white pants. The boom box blasted throughout the air, making the nearby corvids fly away in sheer awe of the smooth R&B caressing their pathetic bird lives.

"You'll do," he said with indifference. "But are you certain this is what you want, my dear?"

°°I vow, To never call you out your name

I vow, To treat you as me the same°°

Fluttershy looked up at him boldly. "If I were to go with you, you will keep your promise and let the princesses go?"

"My dear," he said with a bow, "you have my word."

°I vow, To cover that with love actions and words

I vow, To talk to you sincerely°

"And…my friends?"

"Will never hear from me again."

She gulped. "Nor me?"

He stooped down to her, his face just inches from hers. "Of course they can talk to you! It's just that I would have to send you back, and that's against our agreement! So, letters will have to do. Don't you want your every need catered to?"

°°To bow down at your feet, Not to worship you as a God, But as a queen°°

"Catered to my every need?"

"If we are to be married, what's mine is yours. If it is in my power, I shall give you whatever you desire. Call it a prenup."

She could not tell if he was serious. Being offered whatever she desired did sound tempting, but why would he do that for her? Perhaps Zecora and Kimono were right. Maybe he was desperate for a companion.

Seeing that he was getting to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "So what'll it be, my dear?"

It didn't matter. Equestria needed the princesses returned. She breathed in.

"I'll marry you."

"Excellent!" He leapt excitedly into the air.

"Now where are the princesses?"

Instead of answering, he smirked. "Why don't we make it official?"

He snapped his fingers and a box materialized in his paw. He opened it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. Intricately carved within it was words.

"Oh dear," Fluttershy muttered.

He chuckled. "I'll ask again. Will you marry me, my dear Fluttershy?"

"Fluttershy, don't!"

The pegasus turned to see Twilight racing towards them, the others running behind. The song

°Me and you Against the world, No matter what comes up before us baby-° the music abruptly stopped.

"DUDE I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING!" Rainbow shook fluttershy. Applejack carried dash to the ground and kept her as close as possible.

Discord stopped them all with his magic. "Do you mind? I'm in the middle of a proposal here!"

"Put them down!" Fluttershy begged. "Please, just let me say goodbye to them!"

He rolled his eyes and released them from his spell. Fluttershy rushed to Twilight's side.

"you shouldn't have come after me, I'm grown! I know what I'm doing!"

"We couldn't let you go with him!" the unicorn bellowed, pointing accusingly at the draconequus.

"You don't understand. I have to do this."

"No, you don't! There has to be another way!"

"If I don't do this, Equestria's doomed for all eternity. I'll be doomed! This is the safest option."

"But do you have any idea what this monster might do to you?!" Pinkie shouted, "he might just lock you in a tower!

"Now, THATS A harmful stereotype-"

"No pony chooses my fate but me."

"Fluttershy," Rarity pleaded, "you can't possibly marry this…beast!"

Discord dramatically clutched his pearls.

"I'm sorry, but this is my decision."

"But Fluttershy," Pinkie sniffed. "We'll never see you again."

She looked at her friends sadly. "I know."

"We'll find another way to get the princesses back!" Twilight insisted. "I'll even go in your place! We'll…"

"She's right!" Applejack interrupted. They all turned to her in shock. "Fluttershy's the only pony in control of her destiny. If her decision is to save Equestria, we should respect that decision." She walked up to her friend. "You take care of yourself, ya hear?"

Fluttershy nodded and embraced the earth pony. "Make sure my animals get everything they need."

"Of course, Sugar Cube."

"Fluttershy," Rainbow started to say as she flew down to her. "You can't…you won't…"

She hugged her childhood friend. "You stood up for me so many times. Now I can return the favor."

She hovered over to Rarity. "You can keep my clothes, if you like."

The unicorn was astonished. "Darling, you can't expect me to…" She stopped as she too received a hug. "Don't be silly. I'll send them over."

Fluttershy then turned to the pink earth pony. "Pinkie Pie, I…"

Pinkie let out a wail and flung her hooves around her neck. "Don't forget us, okay? I mean even if you'll never see us again, don't forget our names! I mean it's easy to forget a pony's name after not seeing them for a while and…"

"I won't forget you, Pinkie."

She sniffed and hugged tighter. "I know."

Once Pinkie had loosened her grip, Fluttershy turned to Spike. Before she could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her legs with a whine. She then looked up at Twilight, who was on the verge of tears.

"I'll be fine," she assured her. "I promise."

How can you possibly keep that promise?" the unicorn choked.

"You know how good I am with creatures." The rest she said in a whisper. "I think I can tame him."

"But…but…"

"For equestria."

She nodded and embraced her. Discord was about ready to gag.

"Hello?" he called, waving the ring box. "Waiting for an answer here!"

Fluttershy pulled away from her friends and courageously faced the draconequus. She stuck out her hoof and uttered, "Yes, I'll do it."

Discord smiled in triumph as he zapped the box away. The ring then reappeared on a chain around Fluttershy's neck. The draconequus cackled as he scooped his bride-to-be in his arms. The ponies watched in horror.

"If you hurt a hair on her head…!" Rainbow warned.

"I assure you, she won't be harmed. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a wedding to plan!"

With a final triumphant laugh, Discord vanished with Fluttershy and in their place, the three princesses appeared, their horns restored to their heads.

"What's happened?" Luna demanded. "Where's Discord?"

The ponies burst into tears. Applejack was the only one with the strength to speak.

"He's…taken a bride."

Their eyes widened. "Who?" Celestia asked. In receiving no response, she beseeched her student. "Twilight? Who did he take?"

The purple alicorn buried her face in her hooves, knowing her friend was gone because of her failure as a princess. "I'm sorry, Fluttershy…I'm so, so sorry!"

[lizalfosrise]

New AK ask. What region (Columbia, Sargon, Kazdel, etc) do you want to learn more about the most? Who do you think we should be following in an event that explores it?

Ooh this is a neat one, yeah. Let's start with considering those 3 first as there's certainly things to say there.

Columbia - We still have Lonetrail yet to drop and any further storyline following that for the Rhine Lab arc, plus there's now the upcoming Blacksteel Worldwide event Come Catastrophes or Wakes of Vultures to give us further exploration.

I want them to free Domma from NPC jail but that might require a Mountain Alter-worthy event :/ Orchid, Frostleaf or Vigna might have more potential there.

Sargon - We have the Acahualla storyline that may get a third event, and now Reclamation Algorithm: Fire Within the Sand has provided an expansion of the Sand Soldier/Old Isin section of Walk in the Dust story. Manticore gets some story time from that one too, which was nice to see.

A look at Beeswax getting to do her own thing more confidently might be fun, but then personally I'd be more down for something following adorably-precious Estelle who has been given snippets so far of her getting through her anxieties and dealing with that 'being seen as a battle goddess' moment. That IS2 mapping with the Archosauria trio was perfect, we need more.

Kazdel - This would be interesting since they only ever showcased it as cold, snow-covered ruins until that one scene in Episode 11 of the capital that repeatedly got destroyed and rebuilt. Most of the related cast are major players of the main story Act 2, whether as NPCs unlikely to join or Operators resolving certain threads and fates.

(Playable Closure is so close yet just out of reach...) Hoederer might be a good solo event candidate as a What the F... style interlude if we regroup with him in Episode 13. Or hey, Meteorite Alter please? She needs something after the whole 'traumatised by autopilot!Specter fighting' gag and her story with Firewatch... W Alter could be an Episode-related moment if that has any possibility.

Sami is going to be covered by IS4 and its coinciding vignette event for Typhon, Skógrinn Svartr Vill Einn Draumr. Aegir will likely be explored through the next installment of the Abyssal Hunters storyline.

We need events for Durin, Higashi, Rim Billiton and Minos for further explorations/catching up to other locales.

Seeing Croque and Deculture again would be great but not anything new Durin-wise so maybe we could have sleepyhead Durin visiting elsewhere. We don't particularly need a Myrtle Alter unless she's gonna be the Ultra-Super Flagbearer to show up Saileach...

So far Higashi has effectively been vaguely explained as doing their own thing and one additional loadscreen lore tidbit established how they curbstomped Ursus trying to invade. The recent Leaves Chasing Fire/A Flurry to the Flame Monster Hunter collab featured a rather isolated mountain village, as MonHun is wont to do. My picks for a lead would be: Matoimaru, Tsukinogi and Utage. Overlooked launch unit, niche Supporter, and cute gyaru needs justice for that damn module 'Talent'.

For a Rim Billiton event it could center on April and/or Savage; Ansel; Asbestos on her solo travels. Getting to the bottom of either the incident in Kroos the Keen Glint's past or Popukar's Lumberyard would be neat too.

And Minos - Sideroca or Perfumer Lena, I'd like. They need some appreciation. Rather little to work with compared to others, so yeah we really need some kind of story there.

[spottedenchants]

Let's try a weird one and see if I've double up on it too XD

Joshua by Simon Curtis for Caleb.

now this is some PRIME amv potential for Caleb's self-loathing and longing...

many words, so see under the cut for Thoughts :3

I'm so tired of people always saying that I'm a good person, 'cause I'm not It's like, if they could only see what was in my head

So our intro is Caleb's standing conclusion of his character and backstory c. ep 18 when he tells Beau and Nott the story of how he killed his mother and father:

"But you didn't know what you were doing--"

"So what?"

"You were brainwashed."

"So what?!"

"Programmed."

"Doesn't matter, I should have-- I'm a disgusting person. It doesn't matter."

[Instrumental]

Backstory time! Titles over pleasant shots of Bren and his parents and Frumpkin :3

Little boy's coming to his own He's gotta make them big decisions 'cause he's grown He's gonna get a rude awakening if he don't realize Who really loves him, who lies

This bit could covers the beginning of the Caleb origins comic pretty well, I think. First line, a smiley Bren heading into Rexxentrum, getting settled. Second line: excelling in his classes and getting picked by Trent alongside Astrid and Wulf. Third line is the haircutting and 'endurance training' with residuum. Fourth line starts with blumendrei cuddling up in the tower and then the 'lies' hits with Trent's grin as he sees them the next morning.

Do you ever stop to wonder if they love you When you look into the mirror do you see the truth Or do the voices in your head still got you confused Do they make you wanna say

More Caleb origins. First line: blumendrei teamwork torture and bath. Second line: blumendrei going home (good end) and then 'do you see the truth' goes with Trent's Modify Memory. Third line: back to Blumenthal, murder time. Fourth line: fire, screams, yowling.

I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am

1: Bonk -> in the Sanatorium 2: Aging/beard growing 3: Mind cleared + escape -> Trevor Albrecht

Who I am Who I am Who I am

1: Eren Angermeier 2: Colin Krämer 3: Philip Sommer

I'm not a good boy

In jail (Max Degenhardt) -> Caleb Widogast

Wonder if you ever stop and think About whatever happened to me Did you ever maybe think that I was victimized By those who said they loved me, they lied

Line 1: Trauma response in the manticore cave -> Molly's slap + forehead kiss. Line 2: Party's on the road! Line 3: Victory Pit Trent sighting + High Richter house Fjord sword moment. Line 4: Nott saying her fake name is Bren.

Do you ever stop to wonder if I love you When you look into the mirror do you see the truth Or do the voices in your head still got you confused Do they make you wanna say

Line one is totally this moment: "You should just go. You have told too much. I am going to go. It's time to go. He sits there for a solid five minutes. Then two hours. Wait for everyone to wake up."

I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am Who I am Who I am Who I am I'm not a good boy

Pirate arc montage maybe? (<- is in desperate need of a rewatch)

Ooh, do you know that you broke me down-down-down Ooh, and I'm letting it go, I'm breaking it down-down-down-down

Would be fun to flash forward and back here

1: "You made vulnerability look so easy" 2: "Light them up, pretty."

Ooh, forever I know you've broken it down-down-down-down Ooh, I just want you to know you can turn it around

this time back and forward

1: "Your people were doing experiments and trying to find out and harness the power of-- What? It's your people! It's the people that you know and trained with." 2: "Maybe if I could talk plainly with you and see one inch of change, then I wouldn't believe we're all damned."

[Instrumental]

This bit from ep 49:

"I'm not a very good person."

"Well, I don't think our actions define who we are all the time. Good people do bad things sometimes. Even bad people do good things. I think you're a good person."

And then Fjord and Jester with the one-two punch of:

"Also, I don't think a very bad person would care about us."

"I don't think a very bad person would care that he was very bad."

I-I'm not who you think I am

Cut to Caleb offering the beacon and Essek being all 😒

I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am Who I am Who I am Who I am I'm not a good boy

Xhorhas arc + traveler con mayhaps

I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am I-I-I-I-I'm not who you think I am Who I am Who I am Who I am I'm not a good boy

aeor montage

and then the outro getting staggered like so:

"You're a good person."

This isn't about you It's about me

"(sighs) I... could be."

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper (Part 10)

Jaskier x gn!reader

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Eleven - Part Twelve

I was going to keep writing and adding more to this chapter but it's just so long that I have to break it up lol

Warnings: swearing, a LOT of talking about old scars and old injuries, lots of cute moments, like zero plot, romantic tension (?)

Word Count: 2867

Masterlist

Tag List Form

The distant trill of birdsongs flooded the morning air. A cool mist hung low to the ground, concealing a world further beyond the trees.

Your eyes opened slowly. Your limbs felt detached and distant. Your body was warm and comfortable.

At first, it was hard to place where you were. You could hear a low growl right next to your ear, but instead of seeing an animal, your vision was filled with blue ruffles. It shifted slowly. It rose up… and then fell back down, in a repeated motion. It smelled very faintly of vanilla.

Carefully, you moved away from the growling blue frills, until your brain finally processed what was happening.

The blue fabric was Jaskier’s doublet. He didn’t remove it, as a means of preserving heat. And the growling was not an animal, that was true. Rather, it was the sound of the bard’s snores. Your head had been on his chest, right next to the sound.

But why?

You don’t recall falling asleep like that. The only contact you recall sharing with him was his arm draped over you. Now it seemed both of them were circling you, holding you close. Not only that, beneath the thin blanket, your legs were woven together, booted feet knocking against each other.

You imagined for a brief moment what it would be like if he awoke at this very moment. Blue eyes fluttering open, droopy and dull from sleep, landing on your face, staring back into your own slitted pupils. It felt like all too much. Fortunately, his face remained still, eyelids shut and fluttering with a dream he would most likely share with you later over breakfast.

With careful, slow movements, you worked to untangle your legs and the arms around you. It was difficult to completely remove yourself from his grasp, as he would keep trying to hold on tighter and tighter to you, fingers loosely gripping the fabric of your cloak and undershirt. Once you were fully free, his arms wrapped around his own body, you escaped out of the tent.

- 

“Do Witchers believe in anything?�� Jaskier asked. He rode behind you atop Bayard as you urged the horse to a trot, arms holding on to you as the animal jostled its riders. Without mud clogging up the roads (or Bayard’s hooves), it was the perfect time to make up lost ground. “Like, Melitele or something?”

You hummed, thoughtful. “Nothing so… religious, as far as I’m aware.” You glanced over your shoulder. He looked at you with curiosity, urging you to go on. “Perhaps the closest we get is in our devout search - or research, rather - of the Wild Hunt.”

You could imagine the furrow in his brow as he questioned you further. “The Wild Hunt? Like, those stories about phantom riders that fly across the sky, abducting people?”

“It’s a bit more nuanced than that, but yes. I don’t know much about the other Witcher schools, but the Viper school was built to study the Hunt. Well, that and a disagreement as to who and what a Witcher should take contracts for. All my time growing up there, between lessons on beasts and potions, we would study the Wild Hunt, until we could recite all of the scrolls collected there backward and forward.”

“How many schools are there?” He tried to look over your shoulder and meet your eyes. “There’s Wolves and Vipers - are there more?”

You hummed, nodding. “Quite a few more, actually.” He watched as you thought about the other schools, mentally ticking them all off an imaginary list. “The Wolves have the most Witchers left, as far as I know. But there’s a Cat school, a Griffin school, Crane, Bear, and, uhm… Manticore.”

“There’s… seven schools?!”

“Well, some disbanded, or their Witchers have died out… As far as I know, I’m the last Viper left.”

Jaskier was quiet behind you. The last time the topic of schools came up, you got this distant look in your eye. He still wasn’t quite able to place what the look was. Perhaps a mix of grief and nostalgia, of longing and loss. He wished he could take those feelings away.

“But you don’t know for sure,” he tried. He scanned your face as best he could from the awkward angle he placed himself in, searching for any emotion aside from the careful neutrality you usually faced the world with. “Some might have escaped, or maybe they’re hiding-”

“It’s not worth dwelling on, Jaskier.” You sighed. It was sad. “If they did escape the destruction of Gorthur Gvaed, they would have to hide and fight their way out of Nilfgaard. And even in the North, a constant mark would be placed for their head.”

His face morphed with confusion. “There are people out to get you up here?” It was hard for him to believe. Witchers performed a vital task normal villagers weren’t willing to: slay monsters. They protected civilizations from the fiercest of beasts. And people wanted to kill them? Destroy the only source of protection from Drowners, Ghouls, and Kikimore?

“There will always be people against us,” you explained. “To them, we’re just… soulless monsters.”

“But you fight the monsters! How…?”

“It’s just how the world is, Jaskier.”

He huffed, leaning back. “Well, that’s just completely unfair.”

During the silence that persisted for the rest of the ride, you swore you could hear him muttering under his breath and humming tunes you hadn’t heard before.

-

“Oh ho ho! Yes!” Jaskier barely waited for Bayard to be at a complete stop before he was sliding off and rushing to the creek. He almost ripped the expensive fabric of his doublet as he scrambled to take it off, draping it carelessly over a tree branch before he began wading into the water.

Almost instantly, his whole body tensed up, his arms flapping in the air as he finally comprehended the temperature of the water. “Fuck! It’s freezing!”

Despite the exclamation, Jaskier continued to wade into the running water. He hissed and breathed quickly to fight through the cold until he was waist deep. A violent shiver ran through his body, but he continued to remove his undershirt, exposing his hairy chest to the autumn breeze.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” you chided from the riverbank. Nimble fingers worked on tying Bayard’s lead to a tree, considering it could be a while before Jaskier decided to get out of the water.

He chuckled, the sound of water splashing followed his movements as he cupped water in his hands and poured it over his body, scrubbing the muck and grime and stench off as best he could without his fancy soaps or oils. “Better than smelling like a stable that hasn’t been mucked out for weeks,” he countered.

You sighed, but argued no further. Besides, you were making good enough time; a little detour like this shouldn’t affect the journey much. In a couple of days, you’d be in Tretogor. Perhaps you’d even reach Oxenfurt before it began to snow.

“C’mon, wash up!” his voice lilted from the water. With a playful grimace, he added, “You don’t smell too good yourself, you know.”

He had a point, despite the teasing. The last time you bathed was when your shoulder was recovering. Now it was fully healed, and you were covered in dirt, mud, and most likely monster blood. A quick bath wouldn’t hurt.

You undid the straps of your leather armor, pulling off the protection piece by piece. They dropped to the ground unceremoniously in a pile next to Bayard. Even he snuffed at the smell coming from you.

You pulled off your boots and socks (something Jaskier neglected to think about before recklessly trudging forward), and began the slow walk into the cold water.

“Melitele’s tits!” Your whole body tensed as the freezing water touched you, finding its way through the fibers of your clothes to caress against your skin. Goosebumps rushed up your arms and down your back with a shiver; you almost couldn’t feel how cold your legs were. You groaned and tugged at your shirt. “Quick wash, and then we’re building a fire.”

Before you could even see Jaskier nodding in agreement, you were turning your back to him and pulling your shirt off over your head. The wordsmith was struck silent by the sight before him.

He’d seen some of your scars before, though it felt rude to linger on them too long while you were injured and out of it. But this…

A long, jagged scar ran from your shoulder blade to your mid-back. Claw marks from a large animal, now scabbed over, traced just under your ribs, but they began on your stomach where Jaskier couldn’t see. Marred skin over old sword wounds. Raised, improperly-healed scratches. Injuries, new and old, littered your back. It was… horrifying, but not in the way that Jaskier was disgusted by the wounds. Rather, he was scared to imagine how close to death some of them brought you, or what fights you got into over the long span of your life.

You must have felt the burning gaze on your back, or maybe you just noticed the dead silence, because when you looked over your shoulder, you didn’t seem the least surprised or shocked he was staring.

Your yellow eyes, or maybe the movement of looking at him, shocked Jaskier back into reality. He cleared his throat and looked away, down to his shirt that he clumsily began washing. He whistled. “These stains,” he began. “I didn’t think mud could stain something like this. I mean, wow! They’re really stuck in there!”

“You’re allowed to look,” you assured him through a chuckle. “Ask about them, if you’d like - I’ve nothing to hide.” A cool breeze blew through the trees, kissing your exposed skin with shivers. All your muscles tensed, waiting for the wind to leave before you could relax them again. “After we make a fire.”

-

Jaskier reached out and just brushed one of the marks littering your back before quickly pulling away, as if burned by the rough texture of the scabbed-over injury.

“It’s okay,” you were quick to assure him. “I don’t mind.”

Hesitantly, calloused fingertips touched your skin again. They were rough and warm, and gentle. You almost couldn’t feel the way his hands moved to feel every last bump and scrape, every old injury that healed over.

A fire crackled and snapped nearby, eating away at the wood you fed it. Bayard snorted softly as he pulled up what little living grass remained and munched on it. The log beneath you, that originally sat several feet away before you moved it further into the clearing, was rough on your behind, with bark and nubby limbs pressing into you. But his hands… It was difficult to fathom how they could be so soft for someone who traveled - lived, even - on the roads of the Continent.

Jaskier had a similar thought. As his eyes and fingers traced every scar, brushed against marred, ugly skin that didn’t heal as it should have, he wondered how you weren’t rough and ragged, too. You had just about as many scars and scabs as Geralt, yet you were soft and patient and kind. How did you remain so soft, even as the monsters and beasts, human or otherwise, tore you apart over and over again?

“What about this one?” His fingers outlined a particularly nasty mark - the scar that ran from your shoulder blade down your spine. He would begin at one end and follow its shape the entire length, carefully feeling each ridge and bump, before going back over it again.

You thought for a moment, and hummed. “A training exercise, I think.” Truth be told, it was hard to remember.

Your whole life was filled with being battered and broken; when you healed and got hurt again, it was difficult to remember exactly what caused what. Had that scratch on your shoulder been from a Drowner? Or perhaps that scab on your leg was from a Dwarf. Melitele knows at this point.

“Hm, yeah… We were sparring, practicing with our daggers for the first time. Real daggers, not the wooden ones we’d been using. I got cocky, I think. I tried spinning around to dodge a move, or maybe I was just trying to be fancy with an attack, and Jefer took the opening to attack. But, we weren’t used to having real blades that could slash and cut; we were used to wood that bruised or splintered at worst.” He could see a faint smile on your lips. “While I was being bandaged up, my teacher gave me an ear full.”

He chuckled lightly. “A quick way to learn, I suppose.”

You murmured a quiet agreement, but said nothing more.

Jaskier turned back to the canvas before him. He traced tiny scratches that were more superficial than anything. Fingertips drew along the outline of blotchy skin, seemingly burned.

“And this?” He ran his finger along the rim of the skin again, following a vaguely circular pattern. “Were you burned?”

“Ah, sort of? I turned my back to a dying rotfiend. It exploded next to a torch. And when rotfiends die, they release a toxic gas.” You gestured with your hands. “The fire lit the gas, it exploded again, and the blood from the beast landed on my armor and burnt all the way through.”

“It burnt through leather?!” Jaskier found his eyes searching for your armor, as if he could still see the hole left behind.

“Yup. Exceptionally easy, too. I couldn’t take care of the burn right away, either, as I was dealing with the rest of the rotfiend’s nest.”

He frowned at the thought. Had you screamed in agony while you worked to dispatch the rest of the monsters? Or did you grit your teeth and bear it, as he was accustomed to Geralt doing?

Your face fell into something akin to a pout. “I had to buy a whole new set of armor. Used up all the coin I got for the contract, and then some.”

His eyes and fingers roamed once more, searching for another interesting wound and another interesting story. He traced along the old training injury once again, still entranced by it. However, he quickly caught sight of another scar. The claw-marks that wrapped around your side, following the curve of your lowest rib. Without thinking, he followed it, his whole hand almost holding you as it followed the curve. When he brushed against your side and you jolted slightly, he pulled back.

“That’s from a werewolf.” Your voice was quieter than before. After a moment of arguing with yourself, it seemed, you turned to show him the full reach of the lacerations.

They began at your back, came along your side, before tapering off near your navel. The marks were sharp and clear, but it was also obvious how the claws had torn apart your flesh. Jagged, irregular edges, stitched back together long ago in such a way the skin simply didn’t line up. He could just imagine your side, torn apart, skin loose and hanging.

“A werewolf?” he pressed.

You began tracing the mark yourself. Jaskier was mesmerized by the way you followed them to your side, before running along all three long scars in the motion the werewolf would have taken to make them.

“It’s a bit of a blur, really,” you admitted. “I… promised to protect this young girl through her first transformation. She was scared and desperate… But when the time came, she was much larger than any other werewolf I’d dealt with, and I was caught off guard… I think… she swatted at me, hit me into a wall. But I don’t truly remember much after that.”

“And what about her?” He was enraptured. Geralt wasn’t much of a talker, much less a story teller. But you were explaining everything perfectly, and he was caught up in each tale, adjectives and poetic verbiage circling his mind. “Did she run off or…?”

You frowned, thinking. “I don’t know.”

Your fingers traced back and forth, over and over the claw-marks. Jaskier rested a hand over yours, stopping the repetitive motion with a soft smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

This close, you could see the way his irises were darkest blue on the outer rim, and how they faded toward his pupil into a greenish-hazel. Whereas before they seemed entirely one shade of brilliant blue, now you knew they held honey and ferns within them.

Jaskier was just as mesmerized with your eyes. They were yellow, sure, but they had flecks of gold scattered throughout. The edges were brown, like a warm ale. They reminded him of the sunsets during fall, as gold sunlight coated the Continent. Or of fire, crackling in a hearth, just contained enough to be somewhat safe. Embers reaching out for more tinder to consume.

And then it was over. You smiled and pulled your shirt back on. Your eyes no longer studied his, but looked to the sky. The sun was already beginning to fall, casting long shadows and spewing its last, golden rays for the day.

---

@kmuir1

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@lex-caspartine

[wench-and-jezebel]

Dark Angel Reaction: Cold Comfort

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

Omg it starts without her nasally monologue

Oh shit dead chick

OH SHIT NOT DEAD CHICK

How’d she thaw that quick

Oh she’s a sibling

[Normal cleaning again]  He’s still disinfecting from that cough  [He and Dean would get along, given their germaphobic ways]

His hero would be GW [Normal’s real name, btw, is Reagan Ronald] ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  [You know how we know this?  Because he tells Alec to call him "Reagan" on his first meeting]  ☠️☠️☠️  [*sends screenshot of the script showing that conversation from “Two”*]  Normal you flirty dog

Who a poppa what  [Sivapathasundaram, I think.  According to the script online.]

That Lintlicker [Yup]  That’s Lintlicker

If he shrugs his damn shoulders. One more time.

["Bring Manticore to stage 3"  Ruh-roh]  Huh [Also, he calls him Deck alksdjf;laksdjf] I bet he does

I’m gonna not like her next season just cause of the hair! I like this hair

[Lydecker goes to capture one X-5, manages to completely miss the other one walking very pointedly towards her; buddy, you're just incompetent, okay?]  ☠️☠️☠️  [Legit.  Dude was right there]

Ma’am.  You don’t.  Touch.  Ya brother.  Like that.

Run over his toes Logan  [Doooo ittttttt]

"She got careless.  She got caught.  End of story."  Damn, Zach, you really never left Manticore for all you left Manticore, huh?  [Bitch then why did you go to her and tell her about this?  The Fuck?]

"This girl is gonna do what she’s gonna do, no matter what you or anyone else says. Now you’ve got two choices: back off or pitch in."  Poor Logan has learned this the hard way

You know what dumb blonde dude?  I don’t like you no more.  And is it solely because Logan is Tony… Maybe  [ngl, Logan's not bad this season.  Currently.]

Dude, Logan showing off

[Damn, but Zach is pissing me off]  I know

You know what?  Lintlicker is a horrible person, but he’s not racist. Gotta give him that.  [This is true!]

Okay, but this encounter between Max and Logan is pretty damn good, just saying.  Indeed, I'm coming to the conclusion that the s1!Max/Logan relationship actually... isn't that toxic.  Like, yeah, it’s got its issues, but it’s mainly not deeply problematic — just that she doesn’t want to admit that she’s growing close to him/developing a weakness, so she pushes him away; he’s refusing to admit his own feelings, so he pushes her away; and yet they both do care about the other, so it comes out in bickering and (should they have other relationships) light jealousy — in the way that “toxic” implies.  s2 is different, but s1?  Frankly, even the selfishness of her only going to him for help isn’t that problematic; they’re both, in essence, doing the same thing.  He offered his services as payment for her services, and they’re both trying to keep things professional despite their emotions not complying.  Like I said, s2 is different, but you’ll see that later.

These girls winking at him

OC!!! I love “the Afro puffs”

A smile!  I love it  [Half-smile]  Ya bastaaad  [You haven't seen him fully smile]  Yeah that won’t be for a while

☠️☠️  “Yummy”  I wouldn’t have trusted it  [AGREED]

"I'm an alcoholic; my name is Don" alkdsfja;lkdsjf  [Lintlickeraholic]

Oh god, my dude, shut up.  The music tho.  Is like he’s gonna turn into a monster and kill them all

"As you were" Buddy is damn military askldj  ☠️☠️☠️☠️  [:(((]

[Poor Normal]  I KNEW HE SHOULDNT HAVE TRUSTED THEM

"As a small boy" aksldjflkajsf buddy!

“A HUMAN BRAIN”  [asdkfjlkj that's a lie, just to be clear]  I know

Herballl

This poor poor confused man

Buddy where are you putting the gun

These.  THESE PUNCHES.

His faces.  I’m dying.  Ded.  I’ve died.

[Okay, look, he's horrible, but.  It does bear mentioning that he knows their names still.  Just saying.]

This.  This bitch.  Just broke. His own finger. He is crazy af.  [Yup!  No excuses for him, but at least he holds himself to similar standards to those he holds his "kids", I guess?]  Meh, true.

– – –

Midpoint reaction: Ok so this one actually has my interest.  Zach… Well, buddy can go eat a di— he has annoyed me thoroughly, and Logan was very well composed to be dealing with such bullshittery.  So was the trainer — [Bling] — ‘cause, had buddy came at me with that attitude, I would have pressed on his wound and left.  

Lintlicker is *sigh*  well, he’s a bastard. Like, before I was just making fun of his name. But he was like just a typical bad guy looking for something he lost. He missed it everytime cause dudes kinda clueless. But yeah.  He is just a straight DICK in this one

And lastly WTF WERE THOSE PUNCHES

– – – 

☠️☠️☠️☠️ Omg  😂😂😂😂  [This is going wel- WHOA, DAMN, HERBAL!!!]  Herballl

Oh mah gawd im ded

This poor man  [This poor dude; all he tried to do was buy a messenger service!!!]

[Zach continues to annoy me.  I forgot he was this bad.]

Plot twist: Max comes back and they’re together.  [KSAJD;LFKJA;LDSKFJA;LKSFDJ]  Zogan  [Lach.  Because they LACH clothing]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️  [But also, please, god, no. That was a joke, nothing else!!!]

Oh Zach, shut up.  [Max and Logan are already bad enough about their relationship without you helping, buddy.]

Ma’am didn’t think this through too much

[Okay, it does bear mentioning; again, Lydecker is horrible.  But he does, perversely, care about his kids.  You'll see more later]  About like Brenner?  

– – –

Here we pause to have another “short” conversation:

Wench: Maybe, but more like... Like John.  Wants them skilled and capable and all; cares about them and will make the big sacrifices if necessary; has his priorities wayyyy the fuck wrong.  So, they keep bringing up the fact that Eva got shot.  And it's true, she did.  But --- and this is kinda a spoiler, but I've already spoiled it for you in past conversation, so... *shrugs* --- Lydecker has a supervisor at Manticore called Renfro.  And Renfro, later, kills one of Lydecker's "kids."  And it hurts/infuriates/bothers/whatever Lydecker so much that he actively turns his back on Manticore and helps Max/Zach/Logan/et al. start taking the place down.  (Assuming I'm remembering this correctly, but I think I am.)  He helps them break in, blow up the genetic stores that let them clone new soldiers, etc.  He's still around for part of season 2, ish, and he takes out more Manticore personnel (and, eventually, mysteriously disappears… I always figured he died for his betrayal, but I never read the books and don’t fully remember the show, so I don’t know if that’s confirmed/refuted).

Jezebel: Well shit! Respect… ish

Wench: Basically, he's like if you took Azazel and John and smushed them together.  His actions are largely inexcusable, but he does --- again, perversely and unhealthily --- care about them.  He wants them successful and doesn't much care about how he has to train them to get them there, but he still remembers their names, still cares about them, still wants them to be alive.  He pushes them to their limits, but, mostly, not beyond.  (e.g. yeah, that drowning scene was longer than was, per se, comfortable, but he also made sure no one died)  That doesn't rectify his behavior --- you know that I have very little fondness for either Azazel or John --- but it's something to consider.

Jezebel: Yeah I get it! I kinda hate it when they do that with characters, but like it at the same time. Hate, because if the guys bad. I want to not like him…. Not be able to justify him. But I like it cause I’m all about character development and a turn around story

Wench: He's definitely got the whole "Azazel's Chosen Kids" thing going, but it's not a competition; he's just got the weird, unhealthy care and willingness to do whatever it takes thing.  And he's very much like John in the abusive-as-fuck-but-also-distantly-cares thing.  Like, I don't like John --- he's horrible to all of his kids; his priorities are wayyy out of whack, and there are very few things that can be said to excuse his actions --- but I still accept that he cared about them.  It's one of those things that are hard to get; people can care, to some degree, about someone and still be unhealthy for them, you know?  And I think that he, at root, did care.  But a) he cared about revenge more and b) he felt that "keeping them safe" was equated with "caring" and "their only real, basic needs", and that screwed them up irreparably because his version of "being a good father" was not being a good father.  I think (hope) that was coherent… I’m still a bit drained from today, tbh, and I’m not sure I’m expressing myself well.

Jezebel: Oooof I feel ya.  And no, I fully get it

Jezebel, two seconds later: Wait, there are books?  And did I know that?

Wench: Yeah!  But apparently they're bad, treat Alec poorly, and don't do much with the story.  iirc. Idk, I haven’t read them for myself.  And no, I don't think you knew.

“Short” conversation of 20-plus minutes ends

– – – 

[Oof, this is already going well]  ☠️☠️☠️

[Also.  "Holy crap on Tuesday's toast" aksdjf]  Looool

Oh shit.  SHIT.

[Also, going back a few seconds… "You've got one of my kids"  See what I mean?]

☠️☠️☠️☠️ My dude

he said yes.  HE SAID YES!

NORMAL, you poor thing.  [I know right?!]

Omg.  I’m ded.  [No, Sketchy is]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️  [Oh, wait, he's been revived  :)]

Oh shit, Brynn.  You good, buddy?  [OH SHIT I FORGOT THIS STORYLINE]

I don’t think you’re good

She's not good

Zach YOU good?  [Probably not]

[Max has no faith aksdfj  I don't remember if Lydecker is actually above-board in his betrayal or not, tbh, but I don't trust it, so.]

[Not Max annoying me again]  They knew they had to get someone hot for this role… ‘cause she’s so annoying.  Balance.   [alksjdflkasdjf ACCURATE]

[This dude gives me Samuel-Campbell-vibes, but he's not.]  Yeah I see it

“What I’ve got-”  (Is a specific set of skills)

Well hot damn  [“Deck” was ready]  Lintninja  [Oh no, not another nickname!  :)]

["Hung"?  "HUNG"?  HANGEDDDDDD, my dude.  HANGED]  ☠️☠️☠️ hung sounds better 👀🤷🏻‍♀️  [Bitch, no it doesn’t; it sounds grammatically incorrect.]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Once again: Lydecker with the perverse care for Brynn.  Is it in her best interests?  Hell, naw.  Is it genuine?  Yeah.

Aight, the tear got me… the face after lost it

These.  Well they don’t feel like normal sibling kisses.  Y’all too much.  [I knew you were gonna say something]

Ugly cry?  Ahhh wahhhh?  She old.  And y’all are just blowing all that wind in her face.

Poor Normal

☠️☠️☠️

[Okay, um.  Just saying.  Logan's shirt is nice.]  It is.

We ugly cried at each other for a little while. Then he took off

["So it couldn't be dusted for prints"  MA'AM HE ALREADY HAS YOUR PRINTS???? HE HAS YOUR GENETIC CODE, AND YOUR PRINTS FROM WHEN YOU WERE KIDS???  PRINTS DON'T REALLY CHANGE???]

– – –

Wench: askfdj that was such an abrupt end

Jezebel: ☠️☠️☠️☠️ bruh I was thinking the same damn thing.  Like… Wot

Wench: Anyway… endpoint reaction?

Jezebel: Lintlicker remains Lintlicker a little longer. BUT he gets some respect for the things he did in this one.

Wench: aka, still atrocious but not as bad as he could be? :)

Jezebel: Precisely.  And Zach…. Needs to learn to just suck it up. Cause *sigh* no. Just no.  Max was… Max. But not full on Max in this one. If that makes sense ☠️ she was bitchy but not in a god awful way.  Maybe because the ones she was bitchy to I don’t like, and she wasn’t to Logan.  Also how tf was she holding her self up to look like she was hanging… with her buttcheeks on the bar!?! Cause maams hands were down

Wench: kjzlksdjf;lakdjf;lkasjdf;lksajdflkajsdf;lkajsdf  I HAVE NO CLUE

Jezebel: Like. Could you imagine…. Being Brynn. Laying there dying and seeing that from the other side

Wench: How dare you put that image in my head???

Jezebel: Anyway.  Yeah!  I also LOVED.  LOVE LOVE LOVEDDDDDD.  The Jam Pony scenes

Wench: YESSSS  Herbal, OC, and Sketchy are amazing.  

Jezebel: They were very! Poor hippopotamus man, though

Wench: Poor Normal.  

Jezebel: Poor Normal’s toilet

Wench: Also, I can't remember Herbal being in s2, and it makes me sad.

Jezebel: Oh noooo

Wench: If he's there, he's got a way smaller role, but I don't think he is at all

Jezebel: But un-alas I really enjoyed this one!

Wench: Problem child; that's not a word.  (For those unfamiliar with my vernacular, “problem child” is not age-specific.  It’s a vibe thing.  My nine-year-older-than-me sister is as much a problem child as a five-year-old might be.)

Aight, that’s a wrap!  See y’all for next episode!

[the-scent-of-happiness]

The Scent of Happiness

Chapter 4 - Obtruder

- Set during the episode Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials -

As the night continued, Jaskier played and entertained and did all he could to keep things light and fun. No doubt Geralt would have work that night should even one of these young men find it appropriate to start a fight. Hell, one had almost been started just earlier over how many stings a manticore possessed! He only prayed that things would remain mild for the time being. Still, he saw Geralt speaking to the queen from the table at the front of the room, and based on their expressions, she had been trying to convince him to step in should anything go awry, and he had held firm on his decision not to. Finally, the lords began to present themselves, and Jaskier took a backseat. It wasn’t exactly an exciting affair- with Calanthe mocking the Nilfgaardian Lord, he almost felt sorry for the man.. Almost. The Kaedwinnian Lord was next, and their names all blurred together until, finally, Jaskier was called to perform again. This time, he allowed something he rarely did,knowing it would help soothe any brewing tensions between the men in the room..

He allowed his magic to slip through, ever so slightly, just enough to affect the emotions of the listeners. He strummed his lute and began to sing, and the crowd joined in quite quickly. It was a familiar tune- The Fishmonger’s Daughter, but with his magic, he was able to make it something else. That was what he loved about being a bard- turning old tales into something new with a simple bit of magic. It was like a new kind of magic altogether, one that was ancient and yet reborn each time. Still, he checked his shadow from the corner of his eye, and sighed with relief upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary for his human form. Everything was well again, but just as they began to call the chosen suitor up, there was crashing and a knight burst through the doors. Everyone fell silent, and listened as the knight spoke. Jaskier felt his heart jump a moment as the man’s helmet was knocked from his head and revealed his face. Jaskier’s eyes flickered to Geralt, and he prepared to stand as far back as possible just in case the monster slayer went for his sword- or any other man, for that matter. Geralt raised an eyebrow every so slightly. Placing a hand on his waist, he waited for the knight’s next move, eyes focused on every twitch of the man’s body. A wave of apprehension had settled over the crowd, and the Witcher was no exception. Hopefully he could find a way to explain the knight’s odd manner without any bloodshed. But the way the Queen looked, eyes full of fury and body tense, it seemed that there would be no other answer but violence.

“Witcher… Kill it.” Her voice was quiet, but firm, as she spoke to Geralt.

Geralt’s hand retreated from his waist and his gaze turned to the Queen. Firmly, loudly, he replied.

“No.”

“Whatever the price.” Her voice was quick, and she seemed to grow a bit more frantic.

“This is no monster.” He glanced between the knight and the Queen, appearing less apprehensive than before.

Calanthe shifted in her seat, “I order you.” She was obviously set in her desire for this man to be killed, and the tension was thick enough to have been cut with a knife.

The Witcher’s tone took a matter-of-factly energy as one hand extended towards the knight, “This knight has been cursed.”

“You’re as useless as the rest of them.” Her arm whipped out, and she commanded, voice firm and unwavering, “Slay this beast!” The knights moved quickly to follow her orders, but the knight, Lord Urcheon, was not some commoner. He managed to take them down easily, without killing either, disarming one and pointing the sword towards Queen Calanthe.

“Lioness of Cintra, I come to claim what is rightfully mine! Pavetta. By the Law of Surprise.” Men stood wide eyed and mouths agape as he said these words, and Geralt’s gaze went to the queen. Her face told all- she had known about this. Her daughter, Pavetta, was panting and staring at the knight, but not with fear of him. As the men in the crowd drew their swords, she watched with horror. A man with a halberd stood over the cursed knight, ready to bring it down, and Pavetta let out a cry. “No!”

Geralt drew his sword, swiftly moving it to slice the halberd in half. The knight below caught the upper, bladed half, and gripped it, ready to fight if need be as he looked at the Witcher. His expression hardened with a soft, almost inaudible huff.

“KILL THEM BOTH!” The shout prompted every Cintran knight to charge at the two, ready to die to carry out the Queen’s wishes. However, when the Lords stood, one stood against her, drawing his sword to assist Duny and Geralt.

“The Law of Surprise has been called. You kill them…” Eist of Skellige, he was called, and he headbutted a lord who charged at him. “kill me.”

The ballroom was pure chaos, and Calanthe stood, taking charge from her seat. She walked, strides swift and purposeful. A fallen knight tried to address her, but after taking his sword, she kicked his chest, sending him splaying back from her. She approached, swinging at a man behind Eist who held a sword before she stood and held her own blade to the Witcher.

“Stop.” Her voice was too quiet, but then again, she yelled, “STOP!” And the battle ceased around them.

Pavetta ran into the knight’s arms. “Duny!” She was relieved- everything about her body language conveying just how much she had worried for him. “I told you to stay away.” She held his face in her hands, looking into his eyes without fear.

After embracing Pavetta, Duny turned to Calanthe and kneeled, dropping the broken halberd at his side.

“Your Majesty… the witcher speaks the truth. I was cursed as a young boy.”

He paused, only briefly; taking a deep breath and rising to his feet, his eyes locking with the Queen’s as he continued.

“My whole life a living misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from a certain death.”

Whatever meekness Duny had begun his explanation with was fading, and he now spoke louder and with purpose.

“By tradition, I chose the Law of Surprise as payment. Whatever windfall he came home to find… would be mine.”

Calanthe’s eyes burned with a deep sort of rage and hatred as he spoke, and she shook her head. “Oh, the stupid bastard. Better you had let him die!”

“You knew he’d come,” Geralt spoke up, “and you pushed me to kill him.”

Calathe’s rage turned to her daughter next, “And you… carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father!”

“'Tis no swindle. Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself.” The Skelligan man spoke as he looked at the Queen, and when she looked at him, her eyes softened- only a little, but it was there. “Don't lecture me, Eist.”

“It's an honest gamble. As likely to be rewarded with a bumper crop as a newborn pup. Or…” His head turned to the pair, Pavetta taking Duny’s arm as he continued, ”a child of surprise. He could not know. Destiny has determined the surprise be Pavetta.”

Duny’s expression softened slightly, “When I heard that King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way… I abandoned all thought of claiming the Law of Surprise. I knew… I knew no woman would ever accept me like this.”

After a slight glance to Pavetta, and her placing a hand on his chest, he continued, “And so I waited. I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse breaks. I never intended to meet her. Just to watch from afar.”

“Until destiny intervened… and our hearts collided.” She smiled as she looked at Duny, but Calanthe’s gaze remained hardened and angry. She looked away, then back as she heard the man speak again.

“And at dawn, I awoke with her in my arms and me… like this..” The man’s gaze dropped ever so slightly. Eist took a few steps toward the queen of Cintra, and he spoke, voice low but firm.

“Who are we to challenge destiny? Life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart.” His eyes held her gaze, and it was clear he wasn’t intending to let this go. As another voice spoke from the crowd, Calanthe’s head turned.

“Honor destiny's wish..” Mousesack shook his head, eyes full of concern, “..or unleash its wrath upon us.”

“There is no us! I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child!” Her voice raised as she said this, and her disdain for the idea carried to every person in the room, “Is there not a man amongst you who does not cower before destiny?” Her eyes scanned them, finally falling upon Geralt. “You, Witcher… who has known monsters of every fang and claw… are you afraid too?” She almost seemed to be testing him.

Geralt was initially silent, before speaking in a tone that was soft and somber yet dripping with venom, “No. I've seen mothers lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed destiny, ignoring the stench of the 50 other children in the plague cart outside.”

His eyes never left Calanthe, as he paused yet again to compose the rest of his thoughts before continuing, “Destiny… helps people believe there's an order to this horseshit. There isn't.” Calanthe seemed very pleased with this, at least, for a moment.

“But a promise made must be honored. As true for a commoner… as it is for a queen.”

The rage welled inside her chest, but as the Witcher’s amber gaze turned to them, Pavetta gained her courage once more. She turned Duny to face her, and holding his cheek in her hand.

“I love Duny, Mother. I will marry him.” She looked to her mother, then back at Duny, smiling as she held his face. “I will finally be free.”

Calanthe remained silent. She looked at the room again, and for a moment, seemed to soften, handing her sword to Eist. She smiled, then turned to the two, holding her hand out.

Duny took it, gently, and she pulled him in close before she whispered in his ear, “Here is your destiny.” There was momentary confusion, but it was soon shattered by horror as the Queen drew her dagger, ready to strike and kill the cursed knight who stood within her presence.

“No!”

[curmudgeon39]

I saw something about using things that give you heat on a four heat cap mech today and I took that as a sign that I should share my Balor build that I've been working on. I'm sure there's a better way to do that and some of the things there are for backstory/redundancy reasons (This is an actual character I plan on playing not a joke build) and some of them are because I wasn't sure what to pick or because I haven't edited everything since the last minor change I did but overall I think it's still pretty effective.

-- HORUS Balor @ LL6 --

[ LICENSES ]

HA Genghis 1, HORUS Balor 3, HORUS Manticore 1, SSC Black Witch 1

[ CORE BONUSES ]

Integrated Weapon, Auto-Stabilizing Hardpoints

[ TALENTS ]

Technophile 3, Black Thumb 2, Nuclear Cavalier 2, Executioner 2

[ STATS ]

HULL:6 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:0

STRUCTURE:4 HP:29 ARMOR:0

STRESS:4 HEATCAP:4 REPAIR:7

TECH ATK:+1 LIMITED:+0

SPD:4 EVA:8 EDEF:10 SENSE:5 SAVE:13

[ WEAPONS ]

INTEGRATED WEAPON: Catalyst Pistol

MAIN MOUNT: Magnetic Cannon (Nanocomposite Adaptation) // Auto-Stabilizing Hardpoints

HEAVY MOUNT: Nanobot Whip

[ SYSTEMS ]

Explosive Vents, Swarm Body, Personalizations, Enlightenment-Class NHP

The average turn starts with firing my catalyst pistol to instantly bring me into the danger zone then firing my magnetic cannon to bring people closer to me and either activating swarm body or attacking with my nanobot whip if swarm body is active. After that I use black thumb to pop out of my mech and clear two heat which triggers explosive vents damaging everything next to me as well as ending black thumb jockey and putting me back in my mech. It's not finished yet though and the next thing I think I'll do is try to find a way to immobilize people so they can't escape. The reason I also took technophile is because I want to be able to use the other features of black thumb without temporarily losing the ability to use my mech but honestly I think it's kinda unnecessary and there might be a better use of those talent levels. Same with my second core bonus, it doesn't really help the build that much I just like it.

[arjaandsimoni]

The Emperor and Judgement

Jaipur India, three days after the defeat of the manticore

Nelen groaned, sitting in the rec room of Barjar manor with his head in his hands. His phone was no longer buzzing with notifications for text messages, missed calls, voicemail, and various social media direct messages. This was because it was sitting across the table with a wooden stake driven through it. He had kept himself mostly anonymous on social media, sticking around on there just to keep an eye out for anything that could hint for trouble, but after what had happened his identity had been uncovered shockingly fast.

Rajesh Barjar had been equally as busy, trying mostly to put out metaphorical fires (and a few literal ones) as he attempted to explain to the rest of Jaipur’s ruling family why his daughter was able to defeat a monster that had killed over a dozen policemen, and eaten several of them whole.

There was no escaping or hiding this one. It was all out in the open now. Nobody could miss something like that. There had even been news interviews with the headmistress of the Heatherford Girl's Academy of Boston (who apparently was hoping to pressure Rajesh into footing the bill for the renovations after Nelen’s defeat of The Red Lady,) a manager of a McDonald’s in Provo Utah (who had sworn blind that she’d never met him and that any questions regarding a malfunctioning McFlurry machine should be directed to McDonald’s legal department,) and a police chief in Canon City Colorado (who had bluntly stated ‘no comment’ before locking his office door.)

Aisha’s manager had some very pointed questions for her as to how the hell she wound up in India, though apparently the top hat she had was giving them some ideas for their next clothing line so it wasn’t all bad for her. Natasha, Stephy, and Sammi had all vanished as soon as the cameras started going off so people barely got glimpses of them. Drusilla had already gotten a following on social media (turns out a lot of people are into large women, but in her case this mostly amused her,) but as for Arja and Simoni.

Well, they weren’t there.

After all that’d happened, they decided that a vacation was exactly what was needed, and if there was one place reporters wouldn’t be able to track them down it was somewhere that was outside of reality as they knew it.

So the day after all this began they decided to go visit Akul and the rest of the vanara… until they got the all clear to come back once things had calmed down.

Vanara Village, the Supernatural Realm

It didn’t really have a proper name, the Vanara all knew what and where it was, so why bother. They mostly just called it ‘home’ and left it at that.

The two girls were back in Mirza’s kitchen, each having a lovely bowl of chicken curry and naan with extra rice and recounting the story for the vanara woman.

“A manticore… well well, you two have come quite a long way. I doubt even Elder Akul could have handled one of those by himself.” she chuckled as she poured them another cup of chai tea.

Arja sighed, “Yeah, but it would have been nice if we’d thought to lure it out of the city before we went all in…” she shrugged, scooping up some of the curry onto her naan and gulping it down.

Simoni nodded, “I mean… we couldn’t really. That thing wasn’t playing around this time. Whoever its master was had clearly lost control of it. No supernatural would willingly let something run wild in a major city like that. I’m betting every vampire elder, archmage, and whatever is about ready to shit after that. Everyone is just asking ‘am I going to get found out next?’”

Mirza pursed her lips, “Mmm, yes that is a major problem. I know your grandfather was beside himself with worry when he heard about what had happened.” she nodded to Arja, “Last I heard all of our family in Jaipur is ready to abandon the city and make for the temple at a moment’s notice if we need to. With the manticore being this bold we can’t be certain that the naga won’t throw caution to the wind now that it’s all out in the open.”

Simoni frowned, “The worst part is we have no idea who its master is! I know the first time we fought it I heard a voice that sounded like a naga’s, but I can’t be certain… Mirza, do you have any ideas?” she asked.

The vanara woman shrugged her shoulders, “Nope. I’m no historian girls, just a woman who likes cooking. I keep to my kitchen and let Elder Akul worry about such matters.” she replied. “I prefer it that way, spices don’t start crises unless I put too many on a curry… and even then its quickly fixed.”

The two nodded, then finished up their meals and left the eatery, heading through the village towards the temple in the center where Akul spent his days. As the walked through town they did notice more looks than normal, though these were more admiration than anything. After all, a manticore was a horrible foe. To defeat one was quite the feat. The vanara would be talking about this for generations to come, that was certain.

The two entered the temple and approached the throne room where, as he often did, sat Arja’s grandfather. The massive ape-man examining a historical text with one face as his other face took careful notes as, of course, the man had two faces. One on either side of his head. He had been alive for quite some years, and such things happened to the enlightened of India’s supernatural community.

He paused as he heard them enter, then smiled, “Ah, girls… welcome back.” he nodded, putting down the tome.

“Hi grandpa.” replied Arja, smiling back at him, though it was a strained smile. The past few weeks had been difficult for them all. “Any luck yet?” she asked.

He sighed and shook his head, “I am afraid not… there are precious few who could ever have hoped to control a monster such as a manticore, and of those less than a dozen could have survived to the present day.” he frowned. “Even then, none of them would have a reason to hold specific enmity towards us that I know of…”

As they talked however a man arrived at the edge of the village. Several vanara paused and looked at this newcomer, then three of them raised weapons and demanded they leave at once. The newcomer gave them a withering look, then walked past them with their hands folded behind their back as if they were nothing more than an animal screeching at them.

Back in the temple Simoni shrugged, “Well… what if one of the other ones could have survived somehow? I mean, they may have just hidden away, or gone into some sort of hibernation or something.”

Akul stroked his left chin, frowning. “It is not… impossible, but unlikely still.” he replied.

Outside more of the vanara came rushing from their homes as cries of alarm went up, the newcomer walking casually towards the temple as if he was simply taking a Sunday afternoon stroll.

One vanara, braver than the others, dove towards him with a spear and without looking the newcomer spun, slammed their fist into their face, and sent them flying into a nearby house with a sickening crunch, then shook their hand clean and sniffed in annoyance before continuing along his path.

Arja scowled, “But who are they? All we know is this thing has a master that might be a naga… ugh!” she threw up her arms, “They know us! They know all about what we can do! They even knew about Dawn’s tricks but we know NOTHING about them except they’re powerful and one MIGHT be a naga!” she shouted in frustration.

Simoni nodded, “Yeah… we don’t even know why they’re after us…” she added, then paused as she had a worrying thought, “Arja… the only reason we’ve got for anyone to be after us right now would be that we helped hide Rama’s Arrow… do you think…” she glanced towards her… then suddenly a young vanara guardsman burst into the temple.

“ELDER AKUL! We have an intruder in the village! A powerful raksha-…” he began, then a hand closed around his throat and threw him outside of the temple.

“I can announce myself, thank you.” came a cultured voice in a very old dialect of Sanskrit.

Akul rose from his throne, his eyes widening as, into the temple, walked a man in the garb of an ancient Indian maharajah. He had long glossy black hair tied into a braid down his back and a trimmed mustache and beard. He also had deep blue skin and shining yellow eyes… clearly not human at all.

“Who are you?” Akul demanded, “How dare you intrude upon our home! Begone at once rakshasa!” he demanded.

The rakshasa frowned, “So discourteous, behave yourself vanara or I will be forced to correct you.” he scolded.

Arja’s eyes bulged, the girl shifting into her vanara form as she snarled at him. “Don’t you talk to my grandfather that way! You’re in our home and we outnumber you easily! What makes you think you’ll be leaving here alive?” she demanded.

The rakshasa sniffed, “You truly do not know who I am, do you?” he sighed, “I suppose it has been quite some time since I last walked upon this world. Even the spawn of Hanuman no longer recognize me…” he shook his head, “Very well, very well… I shall educate you children.”

He stood, smirking at them, “Kneel and recognize your better, monkeys! Before you stands none other than the son of the true king of Lanka! Heir to the great and powerful King Ravana whose austerities were so grand that even Shiva was forced to acquiesce to his demands!” he laughed as Simoni looked around. Arja had frozen on the spot, all the bravado gone from her face as even Akul took a step backwards in shock.

“I am Prince Indrajit. Conqueror of the devas…” he grinned at Arja and Akul, “… and who, in a single day, slew over six hundred million of your kin, nearly destroying the line of Hanuman single-handedly. To me, you are nothing but animals.”

Arja stared at him, her eyes wide. “No… you’re gone. Lakshmana killed you!” she insisted. “He beheaded you with Anjalikastra! You’re gone!”

Indrajit chuckled, “So that is what they told you…” he shook his head, “No, he did not use that weapon. He used a sword… one that was not of the deva, or of India itself. It was a great giant blade… a…” he paused, thinking, “I believe a claymore is the term the westerners use for them…” he nodded.

Simoni felt a chill go down her back, “… no…” she shook her head.

“Yes indeed, a claymore. At least that’s what his mortal allies saw. I saw a great gaping hole in the world… as if the air itself was ripped apart, leading to nothing but blackness.” sneered the Rakshasa.

Arja felt her heart catch in her chest, the girl glancing at Simoni, then back at Indrajit. They knew of only one sword like that… and they had both had a hand in its destruction.

“After my return I had my servants track down any information they could on such a sword. Apparently it was made in what is now called the ‘United Kingdom.’ Why, I even learned it had a name. I am not familiar with the tongue, but I believe it was called…” he continued, smiling as he drew the moment out.

“No…” whispered Arja, “We didn’t… that… there’s no way…” she was breathing fast now, her eyes wide with horror.

“… I believe it is pronounced… ‘Claiomh Dorcadas.’” he finished, watching them curiously.

Simoni felt her legs tremble. She felt her stomach churning.

“If it were up to me, I’d shatter as many as I could… but… even then… if there was something like Ravana in one… I mean, we can’t know until it’s broken.”

That was what she’d said to Arja when they were almost to the Temple of Rama to deliver the arrow, before Akuru had ambushed them. They couldn’t know until it was broken.

Now they did know, there was something like Ravana in Claomh Dorcadas.

HIS SON.

Indrajit chuckled at their clear distress, “Truly, I must thank you two children. Knowingly or not, you freed me! What is more, knowing what my prison was I learned the truth of my father’s defeat! So, I am here today to offer you terms for an honorable surrender.” he nodded, “Thus are my terms. You will stand aside and not attempt to stop me from retrieving the Arrow of Rama. In exchange, your people may live… for now.”

Arja was breathing so hard she was on the verge of hyperventilating, her eyes wide and wild. This wasn’t as bad as Ravana’s return, but it was damn close to it! What was worse, he had been trapped within Claiomh Dorcadas! This was her fault!

“A-and… if we refuse?” she managed to gasp out.

Indrajit chuckled, as if enjoying a personal joke, then he fixed Arja with a glare as his expression became deadly serious. “Then Jaipur will burn.” he snarled, “I have spent the last several months rallying the rakshasa to my banner once more, and the naga as well. I command a veritable army once again. If you attempt to stop me, my forces will besiege the city and utterly erase it.” he spat. “None will survive, mortal or otherwise. No buildings will be left standing. We will reduce the city to rubble and salt the land it stood on. Make no mistake, scion of Hanuman. What I do now I do because honor demands it. Otherwise, you would not be alive.”

Simoni shook her head, trying to focus past her shock, “It was you. You sent the manticore, didn’t you?” she demanded.

Indrajit shrugged, “A useful beast for testing your abilities, but a troublesome one. It got so frustrated with those foreign warriors sent to stop it that it refused to listen to me and attacked Jaipur alone. Really, you have my gratitude for putting it down. A pet that refuses to listen to its master does not deserve to live.”

Indrajit shook his head in disappointment, then straightened up and clapped his hands, “Ah, but I must be off. Many things to do to prepare for my father’s return. Remember, if you try to prevent this all those you know and love will pay the price for your actions scion of Hanuman.” he nodded, the rakshasa prince turning and leaving as casually as he came in… only to find a mob of vanara waiting outside, weapons drawn.

Indrajit looked around, making an annoyed tsking sound, then flexed his hands… but before anyone could act Akul emerged behind him and called out, “STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU!” in a loud booming voice.

The vanara looked at him in confusion, but Elder Akul had said it… so hesitantly they lowered their weapons and stepped back, making a path for Indrajit.

The prince chuckled, “Listen to your leader little monkeys. As much as I would enjoy the exercise, I am very busy today.” he nodded, walking to the edge of the plateau where the city stood, then jumping off. It was a fall that would kill most people, but clearly this was not most people.

Simoni stood next to Akul, watching him leave… then she heard Arja coughing behind her, then retching.

The vanara was on her knees, the stress and shock of what had just happened causing her to throw up the curry they had just eaten onto the floor of the temple. She knelt there next to the puddle, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Arja!” called Simoni, rushing over to her and sitting next to her as the vanara curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms tight around her legs and burying her face in them.

“This is our fault Simoni… we broke Claiomh Dorcadas… we set him free… this is all our fault…” she whispered.

“Arja, yeah we did… but we can still stop him! We can make it right!” she nodded, putting her hand on the vanara’s shoulder.

Arja shook her head, “No, no we can’t… if Rama and Lakshmana had to use mundane blades to defeat them, what chance do we have? India, maybe the entire world is doomed… and it’s our fault!” she moaned out, shuddering as the weight of it all settled on her like a shroud.

Through the jungle below, Indrajit strode back to his base of operations in the Supernatural World, a smile of accomplishment on his face. He could have simply killed her, yes, but this was so much more satisfying. He had seen her face, he had heard the shaking in her voice.

Let Hanuman’s heir live to see their King’s ultimate failure and the destruction of all they held dear. Arja could not stand against him now. He didn’t need to break the vanara girl’s body, he had already broken her spirit.

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[alharringtonfan]

Dude I seriously think Alex is gonna transition sooner than later. It happened to Mister Manticore and now it's his turn.

(Theory/Gossip underneath)

What is it with people named Alex and being queer? He has pratically an all-girls friend group so does he feel more comfortable with them? His male friends are either online or soyboys just like himself and that has to mean something. At least the name is gender neutral so he can keep it, eh?

Andrew is gone from the stratosphere and (as far as I'm aware) hasn't been mentioned by him for quite a while. Why? You can tell by their conversations Alex is more of a soft uwu zoomer tik tok brainrot boy and Andrew is just your average guy. Even normie-like I must say. Political differences? Has Alex been fully emasculated? I doubt he has even a drop of testosterone in him by now.

Alex is deeply deeply insecure so he may be misguiding his lack of self-love for an identity he doesn't relate to. I'm not a psychologist so take everything I say with a grain of salt but I wouldn't be surprised if this were the case since the people he looks up to are twitter freaks or milquetoast youtubers. That's on him and I'm trying to make sense of the few clues I've seen here and there.

Before he does (probably, hypothetically) come out I think he should be careful to erase most of his digital footprints or he'll get doxxed just like Monument M.'s creator. (Which was funny as hell I'll admit). Let's see what the future brings and good luck to everyone involved I guess.

Changing topics but does he even have a father?? Never seen him mentioned, never saw him, only Kister mom is public as far as I'm aware. But I'm not a true tmc fan just a Cesar and Mark fan so maybe I just haven't hunted for info properly. MM's creator also doesn't have a dad so that makes you think.

DUDE I want to know more! I'm craving for drama and this fandom is a heating pot just waiting to explode. Expecting big big things next year or I'll just migrate to the Aph fandom once more.

Resuming: Alex is either gay or trans (or both) and probs has no dad and I swear I'm right please don't think I'm insane.

Last post that I'll make on random brainstorming. I'll make a blog just for that and from now on there'll be only art on this one. Sorry for the ghosts who just wanna see boys kissing. Probs will delete it but who knows. What are your opinions on this? Be honest! I don't bite and don't mind criticism.