#pearl is not against cursing but i can't even imagine how it would sound in her voice

[whim-prone-pirate]

let them say fuck

[strawberrym1ko]

TEENAGE LIFE || MY INNER DEMONS

SYNOPSIS: You're staying with Ava for the school terms and the Daemos boys have taken an interest in your day to day life as a young person WARNINGS: None AUTHORS NOTE: This took two days to complete and I got lazy near the end. Hope it's still good though. I'll do Noi justice in the future

M.LIST || APHMAU M.LIST

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Ava was a family friend. After finding out that your family were moving out of state due to your moms job, she offered to shelter you while you finished your studies in your final year of high-school instead of you moving high-school and restarting your life.

At first your parents rejected the offer, thinking it was better that you went with them, but once Ava's dads talked to your moms, they were both convinced. With monthly pocket money, your own room and public transport. All was well.

Well. . . .minus the five demon boys that lived in the walls. As schizophrenic as it sounds. It was true. Five boys lived in the ways of Ava's apartment. And none of them would give you warnings before popping out of the walls. You and Ava had to set some ground rules after some incidents.

You had met them prior to moving in, Ava asking for your assistance in a lot of the social aspects. So, you weren't too shocked by the sight. Yet, it still unsettled you a little. Even if they were from a different world, there was no way their lives were that different from yours. You imagined a medieval world from the little things they would say about the world, so life couldn't be that different. Could it?

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ᯓ ASCH .ᐟ

YOU WERE out in the streets, Asch by your side. Ava had gotten fed up of the daemos prince and sent him off with you. Claiming he needed some air to cool himself off. Like that was ever going to help this hot-headed prince to cool down. But, you gave in and agreed to take him. He was oddly okay with this? He didn't curse, yell or protest. He just, accepted it. Which isn't very Asch of him.

"How come you didn't put up a fight back there?" You questioned the prince. For someone who is to one day rule his kingdom, he isn't exactly an ideal figure. Lack of intelligence, common sense and that temper of his can't be a healthy mix for a royal.

"To observe you"

Observe you? What could he possible want to witness that he wouldn't witness in the apartment? You were going on a walk, not meeting up with a group of friends or going off to school. You shook your head, finding no sense of this man.

You had gone through a few shops, spotting something nice in the window view. Asch noticed how you would always spot something, walk in, examine the object or fabric, examine the price, furrow your brows in thought, place the item back down then leave the story without buying anything. He found it odd, and was slowly getting annoyed at it after the fifth shop you had walked in to.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, frustration clear in his tone.

You were looking at a dress, placing the fabric up against you and looking in the mirror to see how it would hypothetically look on you. You pressed your lips into a thin line. "Do what?" You placed the dress back, deciding not to get it.

"You haven't bought a single thing yet come into every shop you see" He followed behind you, watching you pick up yet another piece of fabric, an off-shoulder shirt. But, you instantly placed it down before walking further into the clothing shop. Asch not far behind.

You shrugged your shoulders. "Girl math"

". . . .girl. . . math?"

"Yeah. Like. This" You picked up a pair of pumps, the strap made out of fake pearls, a little white bow tied in the front. "It's cute no?" With the look Asch gave you, it was clear he didn't see the attraction. You softly scoffed at him. "Well. It's cute, in my size and would go well with many outfits and affordable"

"So you get it"

"No"

"What?!" You harshly hushed him, his voice getting to a dangerous level. A level that would alert anyone with human decency that would call security in fear of your safety.

You placed the pumps down. "They are cute and I would love them, but I don't need them now"

"That's stupid"

"And you're stupid, yet here we are"

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ᯓ RHYS .ᐟ

SCHOOL HAD been rough on you in the past few weeks. With exams, university talks and graduation preparations. You were under a lot of stress. You had a few assignments due in the next few weeks along with exams prep and presentations. You had done nothing but study, work, study, work, repeat. Everyday. You hadn't rest, or eaten properly. The monster cans you downed were slowly catching up to you, with the lack of sleeping and one meal every two days, you could feel your stomach gaining in on itself.

"[Name]?" You heard the muffled voice come from outside your bedroom door.

"Come in" You yelled out, flicking through your ipad that showed you possible college courses you could take. You were calculating the points you would need in order to apply to these college's. How much points you had already and how many more you could get with both exams and assignments. So far, it wasn't looking good and that added to the already over-flowing bottle of stress.

The door creaking caught you off-guard. Startled, you turned to your bedroom door to see Rhys standing at the entrance, in his hands was a true full of various foods. Well, whatever Ava had in the apartment. Cereal, toastie, pizza, and it seemed like [Favourite food] was made as well. It looked appetising, yet your stomach felt ill just looking at the food. You swore you could feel liquid travelling up your throat. Placing a hand over your mouth, you spun back to your desk, that feeling slowly vanishing.

Rhys brows knitted in worry. Your reaction wasn't a good one. Wasn't what he was expecting. He entered your room and placed the tray down on your drawers. "[Name], you haven't left your room in days" He expressed his concern.

"I have. For school" You corrected.

You turned to Rhys, an apologetic look on your face. "I'm sorry Rhys, but I can't chat now. I really need to get this figured out"

Curious, the daemos walked to your desk, leaning over your chair to glance at the papers and technology below him. Numbers, letters, words, stuff he couldn't comprehend. Reading them would do him no good if he can't understand them. "What is this?" He pointed at the work on her desk.

Sighing, knowing the advisor won't go away, you spun around. "College work"

"College?"

"Further education. Like a way to boost yourself up a social status in Daemos" You attempted to use the knowledge you had on Daemos and the knowledge you had about medieval times to try help the man understand.

"Daemos don't have these education systems"

You perked up at that information. You looked behind you "How did you get to where you are now?"

"excessive training"

You turned back to your desk, taking up your ipad to scroll down the colleges websites. "Well, it's like training. Each course based on a different career. Like training"

"We train under the same class"

"well. . . ." You began thinking. What differs from them all? What do they individually have that the others don't. Then it dawned upon you. Their magically abilities. "It's like training in certain magic abilities. Some may work under the same class for certain topics, but others may work under some. . . fire class for fire abilities" "Makes sense?"

Rhys nodded his head, understanding to a degree. "Suppose so. But, why is it important"

"Everyone judges you based on career you choice. Parents set your path already, but some don't want that path"

"Do you wish to follow your parents path?"

Silence

"Sometimes. . . .we don't have a choice in the matter"

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ᯓ PIERCE .ᐟ

FRIDAY NIGHT. You were originally going to go home and show the boys some movies and shows you grew up on while explaining what shows and movies were and how they worked, but a friend of yours asked you to attend a small party a class-mate was having. A first you rejected it, but after hearing about the party from your friends period, after period, after period, you caved in and said you would go.

She did not tell you people would be drinking, nor did she tell you she said you would take part in said drinking, even if you were against drinking under the age limit. At first you didn't and ignored all the comments made at you, but you snapped. Caved in. Started drinking.

Now, slummed over Ava's apartment door with keys in your hands, you were beyond intoxicated. The snacks at the party were picky foods, not enough for the amount of alcohol that was present at the party. You were lucky enough to get home without the cops being called or stopping you on your journey. You can't remember how you got home to be honest. A friend helped, you think.

"Come on! Stupid keys!" You couldn't stand still for a second, your hands were too shaky to insert the keys into the key-hole. Frustration kicked in and tears began to build. Vision gone blurry, which made the task even more impossible for you. "Come on!" You cried out, losing all hope of getting into the apartment

C L I C K

You got it!

The tears were quick to vanish as you turned the door knob and walked in, fully expecting everyone to be asleep. But you were mistaken. Not everyone had gone to sleep.

As you entered the apartment, too zoned-out to pay attention to your surroundings, you had bummed into something, or well, someone. Patting the surface you bummed into, you looked up to see cold-blue eyes staring down at you with a hint of concern in them. You smiled once you realised who it was.

"Pierce!" You chirped, wrapping your arms around his torso and stepping closer for a hug. "Hi" You giggled. Out of everyone that could have found you in this state, you were glad it was him.

"You are sick?" He questioned.

You leaned back, shaking your head. "No silly. I am intoxicated" you whispered the last part, afraid Ava would magically storm out of her room, sandal in hand, ready to assault you with it. You shivered at that thought alone. Lord please don't wake Ava up.

"In. . . toxicated?" Pierce seemed confused on the concept. Do they not have alcohol in Daemos? They sound like no fun.

"Alcohol. A drink that makes you. . . . . not yourself" You tried to explain.

"Like brewery"

You nodded your head.

You squealed from shock when the Daemos picked you up, bringing you to the living area. Having connected the dots seemed to change the male. He placed you on the sofa and sat down beside you. "You need some healing" He stated.

You shook your head, a slight giggle escaping your lips. "I just need some water and rest" You went to stand up, but Pierce stopped you, pushing you back onto the sofa. A soft "oof" coming from you when you landed on the pillows.

"I will get the water" And just like he said, he got you the glass of water. You were surprised he remembered where the cupboard full of glasses were and how to use the tap. A brief moment of pride washed over you.

As you sipped on the water, the cool liquid travelling down your throat. Pierce couldn't help but ask a question. A question you were afraid of answering. "Why drink?"

You settled the glass on the wooden table ahead of you. You shrugged your shoulders. Though, you were very sure on why you did it. "Because, I was asked to"

"You do not have a say?"

You let out a heavy breath. "I do. I should. But, it's difficult when your a teen who's trying to fit in. People pressuring you" You tried to explain. Peer pressure is such an odd concept, even to humans. Some people believe its a bunch of excuses. An easier way to pin your actions onto someone else, but others do believe in it. You did. It's so hard ignoring all the comments people say about you. You cave in so they would shut up and leave you be. But one thing can lead to another and your sitting on your sofa trying to explain to a Daemos what peer pressure is.

You were expecting a question about peer pressuring. But you didn't get it. Instead, you felt a soft pat on your hand, then a hand ruffling your hair. Slowly, you turned to Pierce who was looking at you with sympathy. For someone who gives cold vibes, he's really soft.

"Humans can be cruel"

You laughed at that statement. "Not even the half of it". You scooted closer to the male, leaning onto his side. The head pats slowly lulling you off into a sleeping trance.

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ᯓ LEIF .ᐟ

"WHO GOES there!" Leif had heard some commotion coming from inside the apartment and went to check it out. It was three in the morning, everyone was in their rooms, yet he heard footsteps from the apartment, so he went to investigate.

"Don't assault me! its [Name]!" You spun around, a wooden spoon full off batter in your hand. But when you saw it was Leif, your guard fell in an instant. "Oh, it's just you" You turned back to the cupcakes your were making.

Leif placed away his weapons. "what are you doing?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a glance at the cupcakes you were baking. At three in the morning, for some reason.

He swore human women get weirder and weirder by the day. He even wondered if it was even a bother to take over the world. Humans seemed unbothered by their surroundings half of the time.

"I am making cupcakes" You responded.

"Okay. . . " Leif made his way to the kitchen, watching you swirled the dry and wet ingredients together. "But why?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Because. It's better making them late in the night"

"Okay, but why" He really wasn't grasping the concept of this. Night-time was for sleeping and assassination. Not for baking cupcakes.

"Because. During these silent hours, no one expects anything from me. I can make cupcakes in peace without pondering Daemos boys leaning over me" The last part was targeted towards Leif was leaning over the girls shoulder, watching her.

He didn't get the hint.

"Ava doesn't expect much from you. Why still do this?" He was right. Ava didn't really care what you did as long as you cleaned up after yourself. She knew you could handle yourself and so she doesn't bother you with things unless it had to do with the Daemos boys, grocery's or bills. Even then, that was on the rare occasion. Minus the Daemos boys. That's almost daily.

"It's a force of habit really. With school, friends, family and work. It's constant stress and I have to be careful with who I speak to. Like. . . you boys and lady Grandma" You scooped the cupcake batter into little cupcake cases, making sure each one was half-way full and were done neatly. Didn't want any spillage. "But during these times. I can do what makes me happy without any duty worries. Without having to teach what seems like fully grown men how our society works and just. . .me time" You placed the tray of cupcakes inside the oven, crouching down to look at them.

Leif crouched down with you, also looking at the cupcakes. "That's. . . sad" He said.

"To me, it's peaceful"

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ᯓ NOI .ᐟ

YOU AND Noi had decided to go out for a walk one evening. You brought Noi because well, it's Noi. Out of them all, you enjoyed his company the most. To you, he was easier to talk to.

"But why do adults hate teens?" Noi had noticed how some adults were giving you some sort of glare. Like, disrespect and disgust and he couldn't understand the reasoning. They didn't know you, but he did and you were one of the sweetest humans he has met.

"They believe youth are nothing but lazy trouble-makers" You hadn't noticed the adults stares since you and Noi were indulged in conversation. Besides, who would give them any thought. All they did was hate.

"Are adults in Daemos like this?" You now turned the tables, asking him about his world instead of him asking you about your world.

Noi's bright aura dropped to a low. His smile slumping into a soft frown, his eyes losing a bit of brightness. A touchy subjects. "Only towards me. . " He said softly.

Not wanting to bug him about it any more, you bumped your hip against his, startling him and making the boy fall to the floor. He was so dramatic sometimes. You rolled your eyes and held your hand out for support "Luckily, people like us stick together" Noi took your hand, hoisting himself up beside you.

That bright smile was back on his face and his eyes sparkling with sunlight.

[convexicalcrow]

Hermittober Day 5 - Sand

what came before: day 1: frost - day 2: time - day 3: fortune - day 4: bound

-

Doc grumbled as he realised his compass was pointing at that cursed artifact location in Pearl's area. He wondered idly if Tango had fixed it or not yet. If he hadn't, well. This would be another wasted run.

He didn't exactly run up the stairs. Doc didn't really run per se in the dungeon. At times he did, when it was needed. But mostly he carefully picked his way through, aware of a need to not dawdle while also not caring enough to run through like a ravager in a museum gift shop. He was careful, methodical, his demeanor calm and focused in spite of any internal panic that might set in from time to time.

The berry bush hadn't regrown. Doc cursed it out too. The dungeon was feeling a little grumpy today, it seems. A lot of berries were not regrowing quick enough, or so Doc thought.

He sighed and threw the compass at the right location. It didn't go in. It sat on the sand, its needle spinning pointlessly around it. Hem ight have kicked it into the berry bush in annoyance.

"Goddamnit, Tango. Fix your stupid game, already!" Doc muttered as he picked it up, scratching himself on the berry bush as he did so. "Stupid bushes. Stupid compasses. Well. Might as well go find a ravager now, hmm? Nothing else to do at this point."

He didn't leave just yet though. He checked the compass one last time and threw it in a slightly different spot, and this time, the compass went in, and the dungeon boomed with ringing bells. Doc didn't have time to take in much else before the floor collapsed underneath his feet and he was falling through sand into a deep, dark pit that seemed to have no end.

-

He hit the ground with a hard thud, landing hard on his cybernetic arm. He heard a couple of awful crunches; he'd definitely damaged it somehow. And then, he felt sand falling on him, and he scrambled to his feet, trying to not get buried. He backed up until he was against some kind of solid wall. There was only a glimmer of light now, though his redstone eye could see just as well without it if he switched it to night vision mode.

"Man, this must be some troll right? Tango fixes my broken compass spot and turns it into a trap. How am I even meant to get out of here? I can't climb up that sand pile, it'll collapse under me! Hmm. I wonder if there's anything down here, though. Maybe Tango would be helpful here?"

Doc started looking around, but there wasn't much to find. Bare sandstone walls, an empty chest or two, some sticks, and a piece of coal. Well, at least he could make some torches. That was allowed, right? Doc didn't care about the rules at this point and set them around the room, lighting it up. It didn't help ease his sense of foreboding, but at least he could see better.

But now he could see some carvings on the back wall that hadn't shown up in his night vision as they'd needed the shadow cast from a torch to appear.

"Oh, do I have to do a puzzle, hey, Tango? Is that how I get out of here?"

There was no response, of course. Well, none save for what Doc could only describe as the dungeon laughing at him. A low, cackling kind of laugh that did sound a little like Tango, but also very much not. Doc scowled, but didn't let it get to him. Maybe if he just...

-

Doc didn't see the skulk veins closing in around him until it was too late. They had his legs, and pulled him down sharply, submerging him into the skulk until he was nothing. Doc didn't even have time to protest. But when he realised, he panicked.

-

Tango found him easily as he was writhing in the skulk, unable to escape. He didn't show his form, though. Instead, he travelled through the skulk to whisper in his ear as the hunger in his stomach roared.

"Don't you ever insult the dungeon, my dear Doc, or I will turn against you," Tango murmured.

Tango imagined Doc might have screamed at that point. He didn't know, not really, though. The skulk simply dissolved him and Doc respawned elsewhere, ready to die again to feed the hunger that was never satisfied.

[vanweezer]

tagged by @longtimelie - 13 songs that have been on my mind recently and some blurbs because i love 2 run my dang mouth

black - pearl jam ; one of those songs where i know if i listen to it i gotta have a good cry. just a nice long cry. because holy fuck

all out life - slipknot ; i have mostly been thinking about this one because im learning it on bass by ear and it is so DIFFICULT to hear the bass on that track ....vman if you are out there tell these nerds to turn you up i am suffering out here. plz youre my only hope

r/pe me - nirvana ; naughty title i know but it is one of my favorite nirvana songs and i can't Not put it on repeat every now and then and i can't Not stare at a wall for 8 hours afterwards its about the routine of things

lies - korn ; ngl the main reason i think about this song as much as i do is because i wanna learn how to do the vocal work in this sooo bad SOOO bad i have a pretty good foundation for this typa screamin (i just be making noises that is me i am the noise maker) but i wanna get BETTER at it so i can DO THIS because WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

tornado of souls - megadeth ; other than the fact that i think dave mustaine is probably the cuntiest old man alive? no words. literal party song. good times all around

nothing else matters - metallica ; this was one of my first metallica songs i listened to back in middle school and for some reason for Some Reason it has found its way back to me in small bursts...could be me finding familiarity with it as i learn more about the band but oughh mygod!!!!!!nothing else matters!!!!

new slang - the shins ; early signs of my scrubs rewatching relapse is when i got this thing blasting ... there's no hope for me after that you just gotta understand

given up - linkin park ; watchin video clips of this song being done live has severed my jaw from my skull and permanently stapled it to the floor theres no fucking way no fucking WAY it can sound that good. houly shide

what love? - idkhow ; always gotta show love for what love like honestly? if we're talking instant pick me up songs? songs that fuck silly nasty crazy for no reason? instant bump instant replay all day every freakin day. the music video was so beautiful and the wait was so WORTH IT in this house we love what love

for all the cows - foo fighters ; for SOME reason i always find myself stimming along to this song or humming it or tapping it during work it's just s'darn catchy...whole album is s'darn catchy! what gives!!!!!!!!

good god - korn ; this is quite literally me every single day at work i am not even kidding not even in the slightest. probably not the best for my hearing that i have been rotating this album in my mind for a good two and a halfish months but yeah. crazy how they wrote a whole song about me at work

liberate - slipknot ; this song makes me feel a certain way 🚶 a quite silly and rambunctious typa way

darkness - rage against the machine ; it's the curse of the crow soundtrack i fear. aka one of the greatest movie soundtracks of all time. to me. can't imagine a world where i would ever skip this beauty and i will not ever BE part of a world where i ever skip this song as it comes on. no way no how

tagging @half-doomed & @sinclarsupremacy

[babylooneytoonz]

200 Followers Appreciation Post

I'll be very honest, two months back when I joined Tumblr, I hadn't expected that my writings will be read by many, and the last thing I had expected was to be followed. Now look far we've come, from 0 followers to 200.

A personal thank you and a lot of love to each and every follower of mine.

I think this is the best part of our fandom. We love each other like family.

As a little token of my thank you, I decided to publish two of my requests combined as one today. Hope you like it. 💓

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Request 1- Prompt "We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies."

Request 2- Reader was always in love with Tommy, thinking he can't love her back she starts writing cheap novels as a way to deal with it. Her books become popular and everything is cool until Tommy finds out about her hobby and notices similarities between her writing and real life.

Warnings - Angst

GIF Credits - @thomasshelbyltd thank you. ❤️

A Maid's Diary

 You slumped against your desk, letting your head rest against the old wooden table top, your elbows on either side of your face. Your desk was a cluttered mess, with sheets of paper flooded all over. In your hand, you held a pen, as you were just seconds back, scribbling vigorously on a parchment as an idea had just hit you, and just as swiftly, the idea had vanished from your mind.

You couldn't forget and you couldn't forgive your best friend, Linda, for having betrayed you by sharing your diary to a local printing press, who had, without your permission, published your countless feelings that you had penned down in your little diary, without even your consent, although they didn't take the credit for it. You were still the writer, even though the publishers never published your real name on it, just a pen name.

As much as you hated to admit it, the little push made by your friend had worked tremendously and your popularity had grown amongst the lower middle class especially; as that is where you hailed from. They loved your modesty, they loved how humble and down to earth you were, although you were extremely talented.

Little did they know, that the book that had been published, as an act of mistake, was actually based on your life.

"What is it that you are reading?" Tommy pushed his round glasses over his eyes, as he looked through them and fixed his broody stare on his wife.

Grace was sprawled on the couch in his study, shimmering in a beautiful pearl white satin nightgown hanging loosely over her slender frame, her natural blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She seamlessly brought up her ring studded hand to her hair, running her fingers through the locks as her eyes came to rest on her husband.

"Would you look at this Tommy?" She raised a red little book in her hand, showing it to him briefly, before she sat back more comfortably. Their son, Charlie, crawled about on the carpeted floor, playing with a toy train. "I don't know who this woman is, but if you read this book, you would feel like you are a bloody part of it."

"Is it one of those fucking love stories again, Grace?"

"It's much more than that, love. It's complex. It's like reading a person's life, living her memories."

"Right, well, I'm out, I've got a bloody meeting with Arthur at the pub." He stood up, sliding his hand into his waistcoat and pulling out the pocket watch, taking a quick glance at it. He then kissed his wife a goodbye, lifting Charlie up in his arms, "Be good, you cheeky little oaf."

Little did he know, how that would be the last week, that he was spending home with his wife. The next week, Grace Shelby was shot, and she couldn't make it.

As days inched by, Tommy started growing more and more morose. Although he didn't show it, those around him felt it everyday. The snapping and the yelling increased, and Tommy found himself sleeping less and less, and chugging down more and more of that alcohol to keep his mind at rest. There were weeks when Tommy didn't see his son. Although he felt guilty, for neglecting him, as the poor child had lost his mother, just like he had lost his wife, he couldn't bring himself to face him, as he reminded him so much of her.

Soon, weeks turned into months and finally, Tommy's agony subsided to a bit. It wasn't as if it was an overnight process, but somehow, over the course of time, Tommy didn't feel the hurt anymore, as he initially did— or maybe, he learnt to live with it.

One night, when the nightmares crippled him to such an extent that he found himself unable to sleep, he decided to go through Grace's belongings, something he had kept locked up in the attic, afraid to touch them. Holding a lantern in his hand, he walked up the flight of stairs, the old floorboards creaking underneath the weight of his foot as he stepped into the dinghy little room. In a corner, a brown crate was hoarded up, keeping all of Grace's belongings.

Pulling off the the wooden board that was nailed shut, he pried it off and ran his hand through the dust coated silk dresses, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric. He let out a weak, pained exhale, slowly sliding down against the floor, pulling his hand out as he started fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette.

With a lit cigarette in his left hand, he slid his right hand back in, feeling around the box until his palm hit something hard. Pulling it out, he saw a little red book that was now turning a shade of purple at the edges. The book was coated in a sheet of dust, causing Tommy to squint his eyes slightly and scrunch up his nose as he brushed the dust off its cover.

A faint smile, a fond remembrance of Grace reading this book with such enthusiasm brought a weak smile to his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, pulling himself off the floor and pocketed the book, walking out of the attic.

It was his eyes, eyes that could hold an entire ocean in them, that captivated me. I often found myself looking at him, stealing glances, when no one was looking. A part of me begged for his attention, hoping, yearning that he would atleast give me a glance but he never did.

The more he read through the passages, the more he realized what Grace had meant. This was not just a book, it was someone's life, it was someone's feelings. The words were simple and not at all fancy, the backdrop set was not that of a fine mansion, it was a tiny little house, in a clamoured street, a family of five siblings, four boys and one girl, and the writer, who was just a servant. The writer knew the love she felt for one of the sons of the house was wrong, improper and it was forbidden because she was a servant and they were her employers but she couldn't help how she felt, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Tommy couldn't help but feel drawn— drawn to the writer's pain, her anguish and the feeling of being stuck at the end of a self destructive, one sided love. He knew what it meant to not get to be with the person you loved. He had experienced the pain, although in a different sense but somehow, he could relate. Although Thomas Shelby didn't show any feelings, he had eventually fallen head over heels in love with Grace Burgess and life with her had been a life of roses and poppies, while he was a crown of thorns; that Grace bravely adorned on her head.

It was a cold night, and I was freezing. I could feel my cheeks turning to stone and my hands fervously rubbing against my arms to keep myself warm. I could see them right in front of my eyes; the whole family. They looked happy. They brothers were teasing their sister, who had a look of dismay plastered over her face, and the youngest brother, who was just a toddler, ran about the parlour, sucking on his thumb. I wondered if it was selfishly wrong of me to think of him in this way, to imagine how our little household would have been, had I been bound to him by marriage. I wondered if it was a sin, wondering what I would have named our children if we had a handful of them.

Thomas found himself leaning back comfortably in bed, straining into his glasses, wanting to read more, although his body and his eyes were beyond tired. It was as though he could see a glimpse of his life before the war had been, right through someone else's eyes. He could see little Finn, perched on the carpeted floor, running his toy train all over it, making a weird engine sound with his mouth while John and Arthur teased Ada for something she had probably said. He could picture himself by the window, staring at the dimly lit sky, the illuminating stars, thinking of the moment Greta took her last breath, her frail hand falling limp in his warm one.

How unlucky had he been with women, he had watched the women he loved die, in in his arms.

As I scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen, I could hear the curses in the parlor. He was screaming at himself, bringing the dishes down, breaking them one by one. No one dared stop him, because no one wanted to be slammed against the wall or have to be the one taking a porcelain hit on his face. I wondered if I should step in, maybe give him some tea but I didn't. Maybe, he didn't need it. It was only later that I found out he had lost the love of his life.

He shoved the book aside and sat up straighter, running his palm through his face, his breathing shaky and rushed. He grabbed his cigarette box off the bedside table and lit himself a cigarette. Maybe reading this book had been a mistake, it was opening up all his raw wounds that he had buried away.

He was leaving. I wanted to ask him when he would be back but of course, that would have been such a silly question. And besides, he had a lot more on his plate, why would he want to speak to a servant? I stood behind the kitchen wall, listening to the solemn parting, the shuffling of feet, listening to them leave until finally I could hear them no more— I could hear him no more.

Years after years, I went on with life, with a smile on my face. I did what I always did in the mornings; scrubbing the floors clean, washing the dishes, preparing supper and doing the laundry. At night, though, I thought of him and his blue eyes. I wondered if there was any news, for I hadn't heard anything about him in ages. Maybe my prayers were finally answered, the war ended and they all were back home. Only they weren't themselves. The war had killed a part of them. They were the ghosts of war, left to meander the Earth until they finally died.

"Mr. Shelby?" Tommy sharply looked up, his eyebrows straightened into a visible frown.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Charlie's asleep, the supper's ready. I was wondering if I could get a night off—"

"Mary, you may. You have bloody worked hard enough to earn a night off. Go on then, hurry up, it's pretty dark outside."

He watched her leave, staring at the door before bringing his gaze back to the book, wondering if the writer was out there somewhere. And he wondered, and hoped, that she had finally gotten to be with the man she loved. She deserved it. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

I finally mustered the courage, after what seemed like eternity, to speak my heart out. I was afraid of rejection, but he deserved to know. I deserved to be free of this heavy secret in my heart. I didn't care if he would ask me to leave, stop coming to work from tomorrow but he needed to know I loved him. So, I stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping myself with whatever warm I could find. I walked and walked, until I was at his pub. Of course, he wasn't there. With a heavy heart then, I thought of going back home, through an alley, that was a shorter route. Little did I know, I was never going to get the man I loved for he already had the woman he loved, the woman from the pub; that barmaid. I saw the man I was in love with, from a window, the way I always imagined him to be with me, kissing her and stroking her cheeks. It was as though I heard a devastating sound somewhere close by, but it was nothing but my heart—shattered into two.

Thomas Shelby was many things, but he was not ignorant, or dumb. He slammed the book shut, shoving it on the bedside table. His heart was racing rapidly and he could feel blood rush through his veins. Arching his body forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, he buried his face into his palms. Every single detail in the book, every single piece of writing was something he had experienced before. It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? He slid out of bed, stomping through the hallway into his study until he was perched on a stool by the telephone his fingers frivolously moving against it. He knew what he had to do now.

"Pol?" He mumbled into the phone the instant he heard her on the other side.

"Tommy? It's fucking midnight, what's the bloody matter?" Tommy didn't mind he had woken her up. He needed answers.

"Do you remember a maid that worked for us?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Tommy, we have hired a dozen fucking maids, which one are you talking about?"

"She was with us when Greta died, when we went to war—"

On the other side of the telephone, Polly's demeanour softened. She remembered you, she even knew how you loved Thomas, but she could never bring it up to her lips, because she knew that you and Thomas had no future.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is? And for fucks sake, don't lie."

Your coffee mug lay on the table untouched, smoke bellowing out of it in waves. Outside your window, snow drizzled from the sky, like tiny droplets of fur falling to the ground, your garden sheeted in pristine virgin white.

"Love, you have to bloody see this," your friend Linda's voice echoed through the closed door, loud enough to alert you.

"What is it?" You threw open your window, watching your bestfriend stand at the gate, her eyes fixed to your window, "Just get your bloody arse down here (Y/N), I have to show you something. Come on out, now."

Annoyance.

You practically ran down the flight of stairs, not even stopped to calm your breaths.

"Jesus, Linda, it's fucking snowing, I'm going to freeze to—"

"Sorry love." Linda gave you an apologetic smile, her index finger pointing towards the silhouette of a man leaning by your front gate, slowly sliding out of the periphery of gaze. Neither were you watching her. You were watching a ghost of your past, that stood leaning by the metal gate on your front door, a cap on his head, a long overcoat drawn over his scrawny body. He had gotten weaker than you had last seen him.

"Miss (Y/N)." His voice was curt, yet warm, without a trace of malice in it. After all these years, he was right here, on your doorstep.

"Mr. Shelby? Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head, rather, his eyes and you knew that he didn't want to talk in the confines of your home, under prying eyes. He slowly pulled out a book from his pocket and your eyes widened. Your fingers flew to your lips and you felt a rush of blood in your body, an instant feeling of being in the warmth of a fireplace. You wanted to reply, but you couldn't find the words.

"You read my book, you found me out."

"It wasn't that fucking difficult to figure it out, love."

"Jesus, would you please come in? It's freezing out here, you're going to bloody catch a cold—"

He cut you off as you turned to walk in, grabbing you by your arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop you from walking. He then pulled you towards him, your front hitting his hard chest, to look into his face.

"It was you all along?"

You didn't know what to say anymore. He had found you out. After all these years.

"I don't understand—" You whispered, shaking your head. You couldn't lie, his eyes were making you nervous and all the feelings that had simmered over the course of time were finally lighting up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it will get published."

"Do you believe in destiny?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to mentally think where he was going with this, "Perhaps, Mr. Shelby, but you need to be clearer than that."

"I didn't believe in fucking destiny, until this minute. I can't believe I'm fucking saying this—" You could see reluctance in his eyes, an inward fighting. You could see that he was thinking hard, probably having a hard time figuring out what he should say to you. "You remember Greta?"

You were hundred percent sure you weren't smiling, but had you been smiling, it would have withered.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, the girl that died holding your hand, the girl you loved."

"Good, and what about Grace? The woman you saw at the fucking window."

Your cheeks reddened at the remark with embarassment, making you regret how he had read that part. That was a private thing between Thomas and Grace.

"I didn't mean to pry, I was just passing through the alley and I looked up and I —" You voluntarily bit on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself because you knew you were babbling and your words were not making much sense. You needed to compose yourself, compose your thoughts.

"I married her, yeah? And do you know what happened then?"

You closed your eyes briefly, hoping he wouldn't see the pain in your eyes. When you blinked your eyes open again, you straightened slightly, almost taking a step away from him. He caught your arm, pulling you back to him.

"We have a lovely boy together, Charlie, he's three almost."

You wondered if Tommy was here to chastise you, to make you apologize, or maybe, your book had caused a rift in their marriage.

"She was shot. Fucking took a bullet that was meant for me. I fucking watched her die. Twice, (Y/N). I think it was my destiny. Will you ask me why?"

"Mr. Shelby—" You hopelessly began, trying to tell him how sorry you were about what had happened. But what could you do? It wasn't as if you had shot Grace.

"Just bloody ask me why."

You stiffened at the harshness of his voice.

"I- Why?"

"Because this fucking destiny had something else in mind for me. Perhaps it was you all along, the one I was maybe meant to be with."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, a sudden palpitating feeling in your heart, a sudden throbbing in the back of your mind. You pulled your arm away, wincing slightly at his sudden outburst, instantly moving away.

"Your words make no sense. Will you please stop?"

He parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of his plump lips was foggy winter air and he shut it. His hand flew to the side of your face, but he didn't touch you. He merely took a loose strand of your hair, curling it over his index finger. You could feel the sudden tension, his lips so close to you, you knew if you didn't stop him, he would kiss you. And later regret it.

"Mr. Shelby, this is a mistake. If I was your destiny, I would be the one buried in a grave and not the women you loved. I did love you," you spoke, hopelessly pulling yourself one step away but this time he didn't make an attempt to pull you close, perhaps having sensed your reluctance.

He raised his eyebrow, "Did?"

"I still do, but I don't think we were meant to be."

"I see," he almost stepped closer, reluctantly, fighting for control at the back of his mind. This was a new feeling. He knew he didn't love you yet, but at the same time, he knew he was in love with the woman from the book. The woman who had always loved him.

"Why?"

A single word can hold a vast meaning. A single word can have an answer that you could probably write a book on.

"Because Thomas .. We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies," you whispered in a low voice, tears shrouding into your eyes.

"Yet there's a bloody thing that binds us to each other. Something neither you nor I can see," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

You didn't know what to say to him. Your mind was fervently throbbing through your skull. Your heart leapt with joy but your mind didn't let you be at ease. He waited a few seconds but when he realized you had made up your mind, he decided he will not push you. You had given him the answer. You didn't want him. He nodded softly, letting his eyes wander down to your feet for a bit before giving you a last look as he turned his tail and started walking off, his boots crushing the snow as he started walking away.

And just like that, you realized that history was repeating itself. But this time, it was all your fault. You were letting him walk away when you could finally be happy.

"Thomas stop.." His name flew out of your mouth even before you could clamp your mouth shut. You saw him freeze, but this time, he didn't turn your way, but with his back turned towards you, you missed the hint of a smile that crossed his lips; the way you had stopped him meant that he still had hope.

"I would like to work for you again, does Charlie need a nanny?" You bit your lip.

It was nothing, but yet, it was a start. If destiny really wanted the two of you together then you wanted to try it out from the beginning, maybe make the man fall in love with you and not the woman who wrote the book. You wanted him to love you and not pity you.

"Twenty shillings, you stay at the Arrowe House, no further will be discussed on that, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile, although you could not see his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Shelby, first thing in the morning at 9."

He nodded and then, sliding his hands into his pockets, he walked away, his heavy boots crushing the snow underneath, generating a squishing, crunching sound until you could hear him no more. You couldn't wipe that smug smile from your face as you looked up at the sky, scrunching up your nose when you felt something cold; perhaps a snowflake had landed on the tip of your nose. It was a start, a start of a new day and who knew, perhaps a new life for you. Needless to say, you were excited.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 3

Hey there! Thank you for taking the time to read this

There are so many left out details here that I did on purpose for future explanation within the fic for the element of mystery I'm trying to brew . Hope you don't mind! Enjoy reading❤

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

1.7k words.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, injury and fighting.

*

Without thinking, I drove my fist towards the voice, regretting it the instant I recognized who it was.

Tai'chi.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I found my fist encased in his hand. He seems unfazed by my reaction, seemingly expecting it.

“Oh shi— I’m so sorry!”

How the hell did he sneak up on me without making a sound??

“Feisty- I mean, I should be the one sorry, for startling you...And for following you. I just wanted to, make sure you were alright.”

I blinked. He was concerned?

He spoke up when I didn’t respond.

“So, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Just, disappointed.” I breathed in and sighed as he gently let go of my fist.

Oh, and his scent helps right now. He smells so...wonderful I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve been surrounded by disgusting odors my entire life. I swear I’ve inhaled appealing scents like lilac, sandalwood, cinnamon, even rain has its particular smell! But Tai'chi, he—he’s something else entirely.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else like, I don’t know, maybe getting lunch with some of your friends or in a classroom?” I asked. I wonder why he would even bother to be in my presence. Anyone should be creeped out by the way I spoke up earlier. I mean, who does that? Plus, I did throw a stranger down to the floor. But part of me knows he deserved that.

Definitely.

“Want to talk about it?” He ignored my question. Tai'chi was now sitting cross-legged beside me, the oak’s root in between us. His deep azure eyes studying, watching me carefully.

“What?”

“What you did back there, wasn’t something a plain, timid college girl would do.”

Wait. He knew I was pretending to be one?

“Yes, I knew.”

“You can read minds?!” I stammered out. He can read my mind this whole time?! Shit.

He held up for a second before a boisterous laugh broke out of him and echoed through the circling trees, scaring away some birds perched above. I don’t know if I should be offended or flustered by his guffaw. It was so, so deep and rich and —

What the hell Pearl? What if he's reading your mind??

Tai'chi faced me again, sighing once he calmed down.

“To answer your question, no, I can’t read minds. But like I stated before, your face gives it away. Or your brows since you’re wearing a mask, but I can imagine your expression.”

I let out an incomprehensible noise.

“How did you find out I was pretending to be…you know,” waving my hands around.

“The moment we made eye contact this morning when you entered. And the way you shifted your body at the last second to prevent yourself from plunging into the trash bin, I knew you were something more. Your eyes and your actions show your experience in combat. A skilled warrior would notice these little things right away.”

My jaw fell open, and I’m sure he knows. He left me speechless.

Should I tell him I am a trained martial artist and a weapon wielder?

But we just met like 5 hours ago!

He seems trustworthy. And he’s an orc, didn’t they have a code of honor or something?

My thoughts ran wild I swear Tai'chi could hear my mind, screaming.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t wish to. And I must’ve sounded, creepy when I admitted I’ve been observing you. But before anything else, will you allow me to introduce myself, for real this time?”

“You mean your name isn’t Tai'chi?”

Letting out a chuckle, he replied, “I swear to you, my name is Tai'chi. What I mean is, I want you to know my full name. Do you understand what this implies, Pearl?”

I racked my brain for a moment, trying to recall what my parents said about orc traditions when my uncle, papa’s brother, married the orcess he fell in love with. Something about an orc’s real name being reserved only to those they’re close to?

“I guess so? But what exactly?”

“I want to become your friend.”

I couldn’t help the slight warmth creeping into my cheeks behind my mask. He can’t see it, can he? A friend, he says. A friend!

“Oh,” was all that came out. A pause and;

“Uh, I mean, I’d love to be your friend! I never had an actual friend before. I mean, have cousins, but we aren’t acquainted enough to consider myself their friend— I mean— uh, what should I do?” I blurted out a little rapidly.

He smiled. He actually smiled! Oh, damn, it was adorable!

Tai'chi was about to say something, but he snapped his mouth shut and grimaced. I was confused by his sudden change of mood, along with his scent.

Then it struck me.

The two of us shot up when multiple smells filled the air, making my stomach clench.

We were followed, not just one but six individuals. One of them was the pretentious human from earlier.

My day can’t get any better. And is that a baseball bat? Great. Fucking great.

I swear. I’m cursed to find trouble anywhere I go.

“Hello, freaks.” The guy in the middle began. “Whatcha doin’ out here in the forest?”

The others began spreading out and surrounded us.

“Planning something nasty I bet.” A human to my right spat.

“You will pay for what you did to me, you bitch. Just so you know, my father is the dean of this university. No one will ever hear a word of what I did here and what we will do to you.

'Dean’s son, David Silverstone, assaulted by an insane student in the woods within campus grounds. His friends graciously helping him fight off the lunatic until she passed out and was carried to an isolation chamber for monitoring, later finding out about her severe psychological disorder.’ Now wouldn’t that be a hit in the papers!” The bastard and his companions cackled and snickered, some of them stealing glances between my legs and I felt my skin crawl.

Tai'chi growled lowly, silencing them for a brief moment. He was getting mad but held his ground.

“And you,” the human pointed, “you beast. It won’t be hard antagonizing you, people will no doubt believe you were the one who violated the schoolgirl and left her in the woods to die.”

This fucking—

I felt a hand on my shoulder just as I was about to start, gently gripping, in hopes of trying to calm me down. He knows they were baiting us on making the first move. He shook his head, and an idea popped up.

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to make my voice as girly as possible, sounding so hilarious, like those overdressed, flashy high school girls with flowery perfume so strong I wrenched every time I get a whiff of it.

Provoking them would do.

“Oh, I’m so scared! Should I get on my knees and beg for mercy? Oh please, great and noble one, have mercy on my poor soul.” My voice laced with mockery and sadness, with my legs fake trembling and my arms flailing.

And did Tai'chi just snort?

“If you beg nicely, I will perhaps give you a chance to— ”

My sudden wheezing interrupted him and I laughed. Hard. I can’t believe he bought my terrible acting! I expected him to straight-up be offended rather than actually bite the false bait. He is dumber than I thought.

I was holding my middle by the time I was done. Tai'chi’s shoulders were moving slightly, probably chuckling and trying to hold back his amusement.

“Did you honestly take it seriously??? I can't— oh my God!” I choked out once more before I went on.

“There’s no chance in hell I’m gonna bow to you, not even one degree of an angle, you foolish, idiotic, spoiled, bastardized son of a bitch.”

His face was turning red out of rage and oh! Wasn’t that a sight to behold?

“You brat!” Turning his head to the others, he yelled, “What are guys standing there for?! Get them!”

Good.

Perhaps they didn’t catch my hands slipping on my beloved crimson knuckle dusters out of the bag when I was laughing then, tugging down my hoodie’s sleeve to hide it.

“Don’t move.” I told the orc, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“But—”

“Just don’t.” I said with my voice firm. I will take them on my own. I can’t have him getting in trouble and people blaming him for being an orc. Imagine that. The ones who attacked him will be viewed as victims because they were up against him, an orc. Numerous humans will jump at the chance to throw dirt at their race, a single act of self-defense treated as a one-sided assault to humans, the thought of it being enough to somehow remove all of them from the city, but everyone knows it's not that simple. Dimwits.

I strode forward without earning his response, waiting for the first person to come at me.

I took my stance, although it was more of preparing half of my body since I was still hiding both of my hands.

They all seemed confused and hesitant, which was what I was going for. To me, and those with experience in hand-to-hand combat, this is one of the most basic stances, but fundamental, nonetheless. A simple form that can determine the outcome of a fight. With my right foot forward, left foot back, both firmly planted to the ground, and my dominant hand wearing my dusters. In their eyes, it was…wrong, foreign. Some may even say it’s an open vulnerability, showing how inexperienced the opponent is, but oh, it is the exact opposite.

I didn’t see Tai'chi’s expression, though. I was on alert and getting into my zone to peer at him, one motion that can put me in a compromising position. Did he notice my brass knuckles? Likely.

“Scared to hurt a little girl like me?” I enticed.

Finally, the one beside their alleged leader charged at me.

A typical amateur approach.

The guy, about two inches taller than me, threw a right punch, which was a huge mistake.

Predictable.

I smirked under my mask and dodged it not a second before it connected. Making him falter as I grabbed his arm and brought it down to my knee, dislodging his joints.

A high-pitched scream of pain broke out of him as he dropped down on the forest ground, gripping his bent-off arm, cursing, but refused to rise and fight me again.

I gave him one last glance before I looked back at the others.

“Who’s next?”

****************************************

Those human shits just can't leave them alone! Interrupting their supposed-to-be official introduction! There's more to the orc that meets the eye *wink* Who is he exactly? Why was he so... observant?

Part 4 is actually on its third revising— and I'm still trying to come up on HOW to phrase my next words to lead to part 5. I let me brain take a break from spewing senseless words for now so I'll probably post the next part of this later or tomorrow

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And I'd appreciate it if you have some advice for me, or just point out some mistakes I made! Thank you

Ps. This is really not perfect formal writing if you're wondering. I just type away whatever comes into my mind, and then proofread it to the best I can. And I hope you don't mind me using a lot of spaces. It... sort of makes my mind clear and continue moving forward, and it helps me when I'm reading it again, mentally taking note that with every line between spaces there's a slight pause and again, read it clearly like you were the one thinking it. I don't know how to explain how my own brain works but I guess that's that?

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[jaskierskisses]

So imagine something like in supernatural 5x12 happens to Geralt and jaskier! Geralt has to sing and actually composes a ballad, and Jaskier does the witchery thing!!

Hi @jawnlockwinchester !! Yay!!! Okay... You know what? I just wrote this one shot for you. Because your ask is tremendously funny! So enjoy! And thank you for coming to my inbox with this delightful prompt!

Solve It With A Kiss

Geraskier One Shot

Link to AO3

"And you just killed the evil witch?" Jaskier's voice sounded loud. Only that, it wasn't Jaskier's voice but Geralt's voice… because Jaskier was in Geralt's body and Geralt was in Jaskier's…

"She creeped me out." Geralt was sitting on one big rock in the middle of the forest, his blue eyes fixed over an invisible point on the ground. 

"I… I…" Geralt's body looked funny putting his hands on his hips dramatically, with his mouth opened in awe, it was unmistakable… he was Jaskier after all. "I can't believe this! She creeped you out. You! The most scary Witcher that ever walked these lands?!"

Jaskier, I mean, Geralt side eyed him pressing his lips, and hummed.

"Oh, no, Witcher, you won't give me that! Because this?" The bard pointed at the white wolf and then at himself, several times, his hand was on fire because the speed of the movement, "This is because of her! Because her spell! How are we gonna solve this? Tell me?"

"Three weeks…" murmured the Witcher.

"What!?"

"She said there weeks or..." Repeated Geralt, standing up, and then he bubbled something incomprehensible, while he was grabbing his swords.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes and leaned a little towards him, "What?"

"What?"

"What did you just said, I didn't understand."

"Nothing."

"Yes you said something."

"I didn't," The Witcher was walking away slowly.

"You said 'three weeks or…' or what?" And because Geralt wasn't paying attention, Jaskier grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around in a row to face him, "Yes, I'm bigger now, answer."

Geralt opened his blue eyes in awe, "Or… one kiss," the Witcher bowed his head and he was babbling again.

Jaskier was searching for his gaze, "A what? Speak louder!" 

"A kiss! A kiss okay?! She said we kiss or we wait three weeks and the spell will end!" Geralt seemed flustered, breathing rough.

"Mmmh," Jaskier crossed his arms and tilted his head like a scientist watching an experiment with attention, "Interesting, then we kiss."

"No!" Shouted the Witcher, horrorized, "How!? what are you…!? no way!" Geralt gave two steps backwards.

"You're being too dramatic Geralt… okay, We won't kiss," the bard waved his hand dismissively, and then he pointed at him mischievously, "But I have a performance tonight in that tavern, so, you need to write a nice song for that."

Geralt flinched, his face turned pale, "What?! I won't do that, no way!" 

"I can't do that neither like this? What will they gonna think about a huge, muscled Witcher singing poems?" Jaskier asked this, with irony in his voice. Geralt looked angry, really angry. He took away the lute from Jaskier, and walked away cursing, "Be nice with my lute! Treat her like a sweet lady!" The troubadour laughed amused.

Hours had passed when Geralt saw Jaskier entering in his room, wearing a light blue armor, with fancy details all over.

He tightened his grip on the feather he was using to write a song, which, he was not even near to write the first word, "What is that?" His jaw clenched, and Jaskier could count each vein on his forehead.

"Oh, I thought maybe some color would do… I will use this body for three weeks so," Jaskier turned around like a model to show him the other details from the back, like shining little pearls, "a little of fashion won't kill you, what do you think?"

Geralt's head dropped between his shoulders, he was shivering in anger. Jaskier smirked, "You… can't… show my body… with that." Red, mad eyes, were now on Jaskier.

"Why not?" the bard answered, trying to repress a laugh.

Geralt stood up in a row, and he walked heavily towards him, "You can't wear that and I can't write and sing," he murmured, Jaskier scowled because the Witcher was too close to him.

And then, Geralt pressed his lips on Jaskier, all of the sudden. The bard closed his eyes and surrounded his neck with his huge arms.

The Witcher thought it didn't feel that bad… in fact… it felt too good.

They pulled apart and they were back on their own bodies.

Geralt swallowed enraptured, "That was weird… like kissing myself but…"

"You're right, let's make it in the normal way  now," whispered the bard, kissing the Witcher with passion. 

Geralt closed his eyes and pulled Jaskier against his body. Thinking that maybe, this was the best solution to a spell he'd ever made.

/////////

Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging @agusvedder @mrsaquaman187 @spnsmile @mylastwish