#placeholder companion verse;

[silksworn]

tag dump !

☾ ooc ! ❛ —— ( they baldured our gate! ) ☾ answered ! ❛ —— ( the taste of the grave in the mouth ) ☾ headcanons ! ❛ —— ( shame is a blade you turn against yourself ) ☾ musings ! ❛ —— ( like a god i believe in nothing ) ☾ visage ! ❛ —— ( give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb ) ☾ ask memes ! ❛ —— ( from my mouth the night pours forth like blood )

☾ verse 1 ! ❛ —— ( companion ) ☾ verse 2 ! ❛ —— ( tav ) ☾ verse 3 ! ❛ —— ( cultist ) ☾ verse 4 ! ❛ —— ( dragon age ) ☾ verse 5 ! ❛ —— ( the witcher )

☾ ship: fatewoven ! ❛ —— ( you forgive like god forives ) ☾ ship: limpfisted ! ❛ —— ( i will fulfill all of your fantasies —— i will bind your hands —— i will strangle you )

[slipper007]

Okay well. Now you gotta tell me about the WIPs sitting like boulders in the dust? :-D

Oh gosh buckle in. *blows digital dust off a digital filing cabinet* Everything is canon universe, nothing is finished, 80% of the titles are placeholders

Alone Among The Wreck (post canon, SMTS 2): horrible unwieldy behemoth of a sequel to my fix it fic. 30ish k and not anywhere near done. Cas lost his grace in coming back from the empty and he's not coping well. Lots of questions and concepts about guilt, loss, when and what to grieve for, personhood, at what point a body becomes yours, isolation, opening up to others, etc etc etc. Dean is also having a hard time, but mostly because Cas is shutting him out and he feels useless

“Are you going to come back to our room any time soon?”

Castiel wanted to. He wanted so badly to say yes, but he knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before it fell apart again. The fear he’d felt only a few minutes ago was evidence enough of that.

“Can you, just for tonight?”

“Dean, what’s happened?”

Dean looked away, perhaps to the lamp or the angel blade sitting under it.

“It’s quiet down there.”

“It’s always quiet here.” Castiel looked at him, trying to parse out what was wrong.

“Quieter without you.”

Dean stood in the doorway still, with a defeated hunch. Castiel stood from his bed and walked over, placing a hand along Dean’s jaw and gently guiding him to meet his gaze.

“You’re not the only one who has nightmares about the Empty.”

A Little Something About Cas (canon compliant, s13): a short piece I started in response to a tumblr post about Dean telling Jack about Cas during the widower arc

He wanted to hate Jack. He wished he could. Maybe if he did, the kid would stay away and he wouldn’t have to see Cas’ face staring back at him. Maybe, if he hated Jack, he would stop hating himself.

Untitled (post canon, SMTS 3): a sequel to Alone Among The Wreck that has Cas back in heaven as Jack has made it, grappling with how the heaven he knew is a home he can never go back to, and also some angst because yeah no Jack's a kid and shouldn't be acting in a god role and Cas couldn't save him from that

Castiel lingered, eyes on the beauty of Jack’s wings. They were a little too big for him, but Castiel was sure he would continue to grow into them, just as he was starting to grow into this power. His wings were broad and unmaimed, glittering gold and warm and radiant like his eyes. Castiel would sacrifice everything to make sure they stayed that way, that they never had to look like his. He never wanted Jack to feel the pain he had, to lose flight and a part of himself with it.

Untitled (End!verse): kinda a sequel to my other end!verse fic but not really? More like this is a few months later but otherwise not really related. no idea where this is going to go but it's the end of the world and Cas wants to donate blood to some poor soul who stumbled into camp. Dean doesn't understand why it matters so much to him. Cas might also be immune to the croatoan virus because he was an angel but don't worry about that

“You know, just because you can’t heal him with your powers doesn’t mean you have to give him your blood, right?” Castiel rolled his eyes in a smooth, easy motion.

“And just because you feel responsible for my fall doesn’t mean you have to keep trying to protect me.”

Dean side eyed him. Cas raised his eyebrows in mock innocence before looking up to the ceiling.

“I’m doing this whether you want me to or not.”

Belonging Pt 2 (s12-13): companion to a fic I wrote about Cas' state of mind before being possessed by Lucifer, the gradual breakdown of the self. This is set immediately after Lucifer is expelled in 11x23, continues to 13x06 Tombstone, and is mostly folks noticing how absolutely lost Cas was, followed by slowly finding some happiness again

Only a few weeks later, a small package was shoved into his hand. Dean said something hurriedly, almost nervously, about improving his taste in music.

He knew what Dean meant by it. How could he not? Dean had spoken a few late nights about how his parents had fallen in love, how John had known the words to every Zepplin song, and despite the complicated relationship Dean had with both of his parents, he still held the concept in high regard. Sometimes, it seemed like he wished he could have something like that.

Castiel never reminded him that his parents had been forced together by angelic intervention, or how incredibly imperfect the union always was. Dean knew that already, better than anyone. The Zepplin tape wasn’t an attempt to mimic his parents’ doomed relationship, but perhaps to reclaim it.

Castiel knew the meaning of the tape from the title alone, and he listened to it anyway. In spite of himself, he listened to the whole tape, and then he listened again. Song after song, he understood what Dean was trying to tell him, and he wept to know.

Everything should have been perfect.

Untitled: little bit of body horror and definitely a wing fic. Basic concept is what if a spell went wrong and Cas was rendered effectively human but kept his wings and possibly other physical manifestations of angelhood. The amount of math I did for this fic, calculating wingspan by height vs by weight, necessary extra muscle mass and blood to actually use the wings, etc..... It was fun to write but I definitely hit a point where it was getting a little too dark for my tastes so back to the drawing board

this is 12k of embarrassment that i am not sharing today lol

Bleeding Out: uhhhhh human cas, heavy angst, hunt gone wrong. There may or may not be a deathbed love confession followed by not dying, as well as some hospital room bickering about how someone couldn't just ~avoid the knife~

“You weren’t there. When he got stabbed.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and waited for Dean to continue.

"I was busy. Had a demon in front of me, another behind. Cas saw him. Stopped him from killing me by getting himself skewered. He took that knife in my place. I killed the one demon, got the second as he yanked the blade out of…out of Cas…” Dean breathed out sharply. “Cas just kept telling me it was okay. Kept trying to say his goodbyes.”

“He saved your life.”

“Yeah, and now he might lose his.”

Fallen: more human Cas, heavy angst, slight body horror, heavy depression. There's not too much else to say, lol

this is another one of those fics im not sharing until i revise so much. i was like 15 when i wrote most of it and it shows lol, but i like the concept and the scenes, just needs to be better constructed

The Horror Fic (post canon): Dean and Cas find a nice little place to settle down and Cas keeps getting the sense that something is wrong but Dean's not seeing any of it and is starting to think that Cas just has cold feet. A little bit of it is kinda back rooms-y, and a lot of it is very "this could be super freaky but also an old house/nature is just kinda like that". Mostly just a page of vibes and ideas tbh but I'm fond of it

A well. That must be where he was. He looked up at the blue sky taunting him before looking again at the cool brick, how it circled around. Or rather, how it should have. While Castiel admitted he wasn’t particularly well aquatinted with wells, he was fairly sure they only really went down. What then was the small hallway that stretched out into the dark?

Nightmare: human Cas, accidental self injury, very very short with no plot to speak of. This is one of those 1500 word scenes that comes to you in the middle of the night that's kinda useless on its own but would be great chopped up and inserted into something else

A bright light was above him. That was the first thing Castiel noticed. Cas looked down and there was his human, unconscious and securely held. One of Cas' arms was under his while the angel's right hand firmly gripped the man's left shoulder. In Castiel's left hand was a bloodied angel blade. Demons were crowded about, their hideous faces angrily snarling at him and trying to take back their victim.

Cas recognized the scene. He was raising Dean from Perdition. But something was different. Wrong.

Just as he realized that, the tips of his wings started to burn, the feeling quickly spreading to engulf the feathered appendages.

Untitled: sick fic and (at points) a comedy! The long and short of it is Cas gets the most average cold/flu-like illness known to man for the first time in his billion years of life. So he's miserable and has just been completely taken out. Dean takes pity on him and makes him soup

Cas was as crabby in the morning as he was the night before, something that even coffee and a kiss to the top of his bed head couldn’t fix. As he did a final check of the room while Castiel stood irritated in the doorway, Dean caught himself thinking, “Well, this’ll be a fun drive.”

Sleeping: newly human Cas coping with change (there is a pattern here). Another fic I'll almost definitely chop and splice because it just isn't working on its own

Hours later, he woke up, weary and sore, in a room in the Bunker. It felt like there was a hole in his chest, like something was missing from the core of his being. And something was.

He dared not reach out to his brothers and sisters for they’d lost faith in him long before. They would not help him.

Instead, voice rough and shaken, he called out for a Winchester.

Domestic (post canon): they have a house!!!! They paint the kitchen red, buy a table for Cas to do puzzles on, know each other's takeout order at the Mongolian place down the road, and everything is perfect. Their lives have slowed down, Cas might need glasses, Dean is finding things to tinker with, all is well.

“Kitchen looks good,” he said. “You were definitely got right up against those edges.”

"Mmm,” Cas hummed, letting himself lean back against Dean. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to dry the dishes.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”

"Because I know you, Dean.”

“Doesn’t mean you know what I’m gonna say or do before I do it.”

Castiel threw a glance over his shoulder, one that Dean met with a kiss, like he always did. Castiel smiled smugly before turning back and finishing the dishes.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Castiel replied, but Dean could still feel that pleased little smile in his words.

With a huff, he let go of Cas, picked up a towel.

House Hunters (post canon): Dean and Cas are going to find their forever home. The only thing I have written is the very beginning and the very end but they're going to find a real estate agent who looks suspiciously like one of them (think like how Cas and Mick are same character different font), and have debates about what they want vs how much fraud they can reasonably get away with to buy a place. Not related to Domestic, just in the same vein

No snippet, apologies

Widower 2.0 (s15): This was also inspired by a tumblr post. Cas was killed in hell in 15x03 by belphagor, Dean struggles to handle it because of his role in sending Cas down there in the first place.

Castiel was lying in one of Hell’s halls, wings burnt, body broken, blade bent and bloodied. He wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, but he had been alone. He’d died alone, no one but Belphagor to cry out to, to beg for help, to say goodbye to.

He had died looking at his son being worn by a monster.

The thought made Dean nauseous.

And this is just what I have in my OneDrive WIP folder as individual files 🥲 I have another document in my notes app that's just a list of ideas I've done absolutely nothing with yet, as well as a few drafts here on tumblr

[ofrevas-archive]

Detailed companion verse

Name: Alanari Tillahnnen

Race: Elvhen

Class & Specialization: Arcane rogue

Varric’s Nickname for them: Bright Eyes

Default Tarot Card: The Chariot

How they are recruited: Encountered protecting a group of elvhen refugees in the Hinterlands. If the correct dialogue options are chosen, Alanari may become an agent or a companion.

Where they are in Skyhold: before renovations are complete, they can be found on the second floor of the barn. Later, they will move in to one of the vacant rooms overlooking the garden. If romanced, their belongings will move to the Inquisitor’s tower.

Things they Generally Approve of: compassion towards marginalized people, limiting the Chantry’s influence, defending elves

Things they Generally Disapprove of: prioritizing the interests of nobility over everyone else, hostility towards elves, turning elvhen artifacts and history over to humans

Mages, Templars, Other?: afraid of both (though that is not something they’ll easily admit), slightly favors mages. Greatly dislikes the Circles.

Companions

Friendly: Varric Blackwall Cole

Indifferent/neutral: Sera Dorian Solas Leliana Iron Bull Josephine

Unfriendly: Cassandra Vivienne

Romanceable?: By elvhen Inquisitors. If the Inquisitor refuses to help rescue their brother, or if Morrigan is allowed access to the Vir’abelasan, there is a potential outcome of Alanari breaking off the relationship.

Small side mission: tbc.

Companion quest:

Triggered upon reaching the Dalish camp in the Exalted Plains. When the Inquisitor exits conversation with Keeper Hawen for the first time, they will approach him on their own. They become more and more distressed, and run from his side mid-sentence to ask that the player accompany them to the Emerald Graves to find their brother, Hawen’s First.

Option 1: Refuse to track Taven and his group. This nets you a ‘greatly disapproves’, and Alanari will temporarily leave the party to find him on their own.  There is, after this, always a hint of disinterest bordering on coldness in their voice when speaking to the Inquisitor. This option will also end any romance, no matter its progression.

Option 2: Agree to help. When next entering the Emerald Graves, a cutscene outside of Din’an Hanin will trigger. You hear combat ahead, and Alanari rushes ahead. The party follows, and the next scene shows Alanari cutting down combined Red Templar-Venatori forces alongside a small group of elves. All appear to be defending one elf in particular, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Alanari.

Like Fenris’ personal quest, if the story progresses and their quest is not completed, Alanari will disappear from Skyhold or camp, and return only when they find Taven.

Tarot card change

Option 1: Five of Swords: discord, promotion of self-interest, conflict

Option 2: Page of Wands: enthusiasm, welcome news

Romanced: Six of Cups

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts: “Quiet, sad acceptance. Say it doesn’t hurt until it feels real.”

Comment(s) on Mages: “Alone and desperate when the entire world either wants you dead or wouldn’t care? No, I have no idea what that feels like.”

Comment(s) on Templars: (sarcastically) “I do appreciate how well they protect everyone from ‘the dangers of magic’.”

When looking for something: “Wait, this could be useful. Let me...there!”

When finding a campsite: “I’m fine to set up here. Or move on. Your choice.”

When the Inquisitor falls: “Hey! We still need you here!”

When the Inquisitor falls (romanced): “No! No, no, no...I’m coming!”

When they are low on Health: “Some help over here!”

When they see a dragon: “Couldn’t we find another path? We’re intruding on its home.”

If the party decides to attack the dragon anyway: “Really?”

During their small side quest:

Greeting:

Cold/Hostile (-75 to -5): “What, you need me to go beat someone up because he didn’t bow to you quickly enough?”

Neutral (-5 to 34): “What is it?”

Warm/Friendly (35 to 125): “Falon?”/”Lethallen?”

Sample banter:

(adapted from here.)

Varric: You don’t talk much about yourself. Alanari: *laughs* I talk enough. Varric: No, what you do is put out hot air, and hope no one notices. Not the same thing. Alanari: What do you want me to say? My life wasn’t some magical adventure. Or constant stealing, despite what I know humans like to believe. Alanari: Why do you want to know so much, anyway? Varric: Everyone has a past. Alanari: So make it up. Everyone else does.

Leaving the Inquisition: “Not that I expect you to care, but I’m out. I want nothing more to do with where you’re heading.”

Detailed approval/disapproval: major quests

Champions of the Just:

Lord Abernache: Care to mark the moment? Ten Orlesian houses walk with you.

(Nobility Knowledge) I celebrate this pairing. : slightly disapproves

Perhaps an overblown speech?: slightly approves

Banner ritual:

Andraste first: slightly disapproves People first: approves Templars first: disapproves

Templars allied: disapproves Templars disbanded: no change

In Hushed Whispers:

Connor: That's me. The boy with Redcliffe's blood on his hands.

It wasn't your fault.: slightly approves I'm surprised you're here.: no change They should have killed you.: slightly disapproves

Fiona: As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.

You've made a huge mistake.: slightly approves That was fast.: no change You're ignoring the Breach?: slightly approves Then tell me who does.: no change

Lysas: Were you really looking to ally with us?

Yes. Mages should be free.: approves You sound doubtful.: no change No. You should be contained.: slightly disapproves

Dorian: The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world.

This is a lot to swallow.: no change Do you have evidence?: no change I don't trust you.: slightly approves

Felix: And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you.

How do we stop him?: no change I'm flattered.: no change He doesn't scare me.: slightly disapproves

Alexius: Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.

Perhaps we should include her.: approves Because you simply ooze trust.: slightly approves Let's get to business.

Alexius: The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?

We have connections.: slightly disapproves Nothing.: slightly approves I know you want me dead.: no change Let's talk about time magic.: slightly approves Tell me about the Venatori.

Alexius: Felix, what have you done?

He's concerned about you.: no change Your trap has already failed.: no change Why are you really here?: no change

Alexius: You're nothing but a mistake.

What was supposed to happen?: slightly approves What is the mark?: no change Who killed the Divine?: no change

Alexius: The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.

Who is the Elder One?: no change You're a fanatic.: slightly approves What kind of power?: no change

Conscript mages: disapproves Ally mages: slightly approves

In Your Heart Shall Burn

If all six townspeople were helped/rescued (only party members): approves

If you don't save all six townspeople, but do manage to save at least one (only party members): slightly approves

Dorian: From what I gathered in Redcliffe, it marched all of this way to take your Herald. / Cole: The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald.

I'd give myself to save Haven.: slightly approves Why? Why does he want me?: no change How do I stop him?: approves

Roderick: She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.

Cullen, can you get them out?: no change Rocks won't stop a dragon.: no change Go. I'll distract them.: slightly approves

The Ceremony

Cassandra: You.

(Surprised) But I'm not your chosen one!: no change (Pleased) I'm honored./My faith is rewarded.: slightly disapproves (Confused) Everyone agreed to this?: no change But I'm not even human. (non-human only): slightly approves You trust this to a mage? (mage only): slightly approves (Mad) I don't want this!: slightly disapproves

Cassandra: There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide.

A dwarf will stand for us all. (Dwarven only): no change An elf will stand for us all. (Elven only): approves A qunari will stand for us all. (Qunari only): no change I'll set an example as a mage.: slightly approves I'll be a servant of faith.: slightly disapproves I fight for order, not faith.: slightly approves I'll do it because it's right.: slightly approves Corypheus must be stopped.:slightly approves I will lead them to vengeance.: no change I'll do it for my own power. : disapproves

Here Lies the Abyss

Hawke left in Fade: disapproves Warden left in Fade: no change

Wardens exiled: no change Wardens exiled (if Jana was sacrificed): approves   Wardens allied: no change Wardens allied (if Jana was sacrificed): slightly disapproves

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

I'll talk with Florianne. (Publicly expose the duchess' crimes to the court, avoiding further bloodshed.): no change I will execute her myself. (Kill the duchess.): no change Take her away. (Give the Duchess to the guards.): no change Detain the duchess. (Save Celene's life, then deal with the duchess.): no change Wait for Florianne to attack. (Allow the empress to die before dealing with the duchess.): no change

Celene rules alone

Briala is an accomplice. (Gaspard executed. Implicate Briala as well.): disapproves (Special) No, spare Gaspard's life. (Try to convince Celene to let Gaspard live.): slightly disapproves

Celene and Briala rule together

Briala helped stop Florianne. (Use the evidence gathered about Gaspard to support Briala.): slightly approves What about Briala's reward? (Gaspard executed. Attempt to reconcile Celene and Briala.): slightly approves Reconciliation successful: no change

Public truce

All of you were at fault. (Try to force the three leaders into a truce.): no change Work together for Orlais.: no change You've been outplayed.: no change

You work for me now.: slightly disapproves

Gaspard rules alone

Gaspard will be emperor. (Use the blackmail material to discredit Briala and support Gaspard.): greatly disapproves

Gaspard and Briala rule

Briala can take over. (Use blackmail material to put Briala in power.): greatly approves

What Pride Had Wrought

Follow rituals to access temple: approves Follow Samson/Calpernia: slightly disapproves

Accept alliance: approves Reject alliance: greatly disapproves

Allow Calpernia to leave: slightly approves Destroy Samson’s armor: slightly approves

Elvhen inquisitor drinks: slightly approves Inquisitor allows Alanari to drink: greatly approves Morrigan or non-elvhen inquisitor drink (potential crisis point): greatly disapproves

Detailed approval/disapproval: minor quests

Flowers for Senna:

approves

Jana (Crestwood):

"Don't join the Wardens." /  "Solas?": slightly approves

"Go ahead and join." / "I can see the appeal.": disapproves. applied during “Here Lies the Abyss”.

From the Beyond:

desecrate the graves: disapproves.

clear the site of demons and leave: approves

Someone to Lose:

“He was brave.”: no approval change.

“Teenagers are stupid.”: slightly disapproves

“Blood magic.”: slightly disapproves

allowing Alanari to explain what happened: slightly approves

By the Grace of the Dalish:

each time a task is completed: slightly approves

The Knights’ Tomb:

give the scroll to Keeper Hawen: greatly approves sell the scroll to the Chantry: greatly disapproves

Bestow Mourning Halla (wartable):

Cullen/Josephine: approves Leliana: slightly disapproves

Freemen of the Dales:

each time a cell is wiped out: slightly approves

Judgement approval/disapproval

Gereon Alexius

Execution: no change Imprisonment: no change Put to work for the mages: approves Made Tranquil: disapproves Forced to research magic arcana for the Inquisition: no change

Knight-Captain Denam

Execution: no change Imprisonment: no change Given to the Templars to be punished: slightly disapproves Exiled to the Sea of Ash: disapproves Conscription: disapproves

Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons

(if alive) Encloisterment: slightly disapproves Recruit her for the Inquisition: no change Farm work: approves Exile: slightly disapproves Make her the Inquisition's court jester: slightly approves

(if dead) Ignore her: no change Put her remains to use: no change Return the trade routes to the reigning monarch: slightly disapproves Void her claims: no change

Magister Livius Erimond

Imprisonment: no change Execution: approves Made Tranquil: disapproves Remand to the Grey Wardens: no change

Ser Ruth

Divine Forgiveness: disapproves Public Humiliation: no change Imprisonment: no change Refuse to judge a Warden: slightly disapproves   Exile like the rest of the Wardens: no change Exile to the Deep Roads: no change

Samson

Serve the Inquisition: no change Give him to Dagna for study: no change Remand to Kirkwall for judgment: no change Exile to the wilderness: disapproves Imprisonment: no change

Captain Thom Rainier

Pardon: approves Give him to the Wardens after the Inquisition ends: no change Servitude to the Inquisition: greatly disapproves

Chief Movran the Under

Banishment: slightly disapproves Put on public display in a gibbet and "probably" released: disapproves Arm and Exile to Tevinter: approves Assign to Abernache: no change

Mayor Gregory Dedrick

Give him to the Grey Wardens: slightly disapprovers Exile: slightly disapproves Give him a clean death: no change Lock him up in Ferelden: no change

Crassius Servis

Imprisonment: no change Returned to Corypheus: slightly approves Recruited as an Informant: no change Recruited as a Smuggler: no change

Mistress Poulin

Have her rebuild the town: slightly approves Released: disapproves Put to work: no change Execution: no change Money confiscated for House Trevelyan: disapproves

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

on ao3

All his life, Jaskier has only wanted to be enough. In forty years, he’s found a lot of people he can't please no matter how hard he tries, but never any who are willing to try in return. He's too loud, too annoying, too much. There are also a startling number of people who want him only as a placeholder - a bed warmer, an entertainer - before quickly ushering him from their lives once they've had their fill. As a child, it was devastating every time he was told to be quiet or to find someone else to talk to. As an adult, he thought he'd grown numb to disinterest or fleeting interest, but then he'd met Geralt.

With Geralt, he thought he had finally found someone who might keep him. Even if it wasn't perfect, even if Jaskier still found himself longing for more, Geralt allowed him to stay. His jabs didn't hurt the way others did and after some time they even started to sound fond coming from his Witcher. And he was truly happy for the first time in a long time.

But good things are not meant to last. Not at least, for Jaskier. And on the top of a mountain north of Barefield, Geralt had proved without a doubt that Jaskier wasn't numb to heartbreak.

But that seems like a lifetime ago, now.

When their paths had crossed again, it was by complete accident. Jaskier had been in Oxenfurt over the winter to regroup after a difficult autumn and he'd headed back out into the wilderness late. It was a routine of sorts, setting out on the road after winter, and he'd followed the Pontar east, heading nowhere in particular. The last person he had been expecting to come across was his Witcher.

But there they both were; Geralt with his child surprise in tow and Jaskier with nothing but the lute on his back and a notebook overflowing with verse after verse of heartbreak. Ciri, at least, had been happy to see him, but it was plain to see Geralt didn't share her enthusiasm. She is the reason for their (somewhat forced) reconciliation, not some change of heart or some grand apology; just a lost little girl clinging to whatever sense of normalcy she can find. And an unwilling father trying to give it to her.

Lucky for him, Jaskier is a familiar face to the young princess and Geralt had agreed when Ciri had asked for him to come along with them. And it's not all bad; travelling with companions is much less lonely than travelling alone and he and Geralt have made things work between them, enough at least, for Ciri's wellbeing.

But there's a feeling Jaskier gets right before he's ousted from someone's life, a tingling sort of ache right in the pit of his stomach, and he's been feeling that for months now.

Spring has faded into summer and their little group carries on. They keep to the path most nights, camping amongst the trees or tucked away under a shelf of rock or in an abandoned cave. Jaskier doesn't know the whole story, but he knows Nilfgaard is looking for Ciri and as good a protector as Geralt is, he's unlikely to defeat an entire Nilgaardian troop should they run into one. So he keeps them away from town unless they need to replenish their supplies or the weather is too bad to allow for sleeping outside. On those occasions, they prepare in advance. Geralt will go ahead and ensure the room is ready and whatever else they need, while Jaskier will wait behind and do what he can to disguise Ciri. She's the most important thing in Geralt's life now and if he can't make amends with the man himself, he'll do what he can to help Ciri. At the very least, it gives him a sense of purpose and keeps him from feeling quite so out of place with them.

Tonight is a camping night. Geralt is asleep already and Ciri appears to be if she isn't, but the grass is damp and cool beneath them and Jaskier can't get comfortable. In the morning, their bedding will be damp at best and that means packing damp bedding and sleeping on it again tomorrow night. He's mulling over the idea of hanging his bedroll over a tree branch and lying directly on the grass - at least it will save him one night of discomfort - when Geralt stirs across from him.

Jaskier looks up, instinctively alert, but Ciri is still peacefully asleep and there doesn't appear to be any sign of danger. Geralt's face is twisted though, pinched tight in pain or fear and Jaskier recognizes the expression. For years, he'd been there to soothe Geralt’s discomfort, to curl up against him and run a hand up his chest until his breathing evened out again and the pain eased from his face. Geralt’s nightmares have never been uncommon, but since joining up with him again, Jaskier has noticed a marked increase of uneasy nights for the Witcher.

But he's no longer in a place to soothe him and so he watches regretfully as Ciri blinks awake and props herself up to look at him. She crawls from her own bedroll and in a practiced motion, slips between Geralt's arms, pressing herself up against his chest. She whispers something that Jaskier can't hear and he squeezes his eyes shut as Geralt hums sleepily against her hair.

He aches to fill that space against him once more, to be able to soothe the turmoil in Geralt’s heart, to give Geralt anything. He used to be the one who could ease his pain, but he's been replaced. And he can't blame Geralt for it; he was never a very good travel companion, but he did try and he'd like to be able to try again, but that doesn't seem to be the way things are going for him.

"Who is she?" Ciri asks, only just loud enough to Jaskier to hear her. "Who's Renfri?"

"I don't know," he breathes, low to keep his voice steady, "Geralt met her before me and he doesn't talk about it."

Ciri makes a disappointed sound and Jaskier doesn't have to be able to see her face to know she's scowling at the man wrapped around her. He would be too. Geralt does so much to protect the ones he loves and yet refuses to accept anything in return. Jaskier understands the frustration and once upon a time, he'd developed a method of tricking Geralt into doing things for himself, making it seem like it was for the good of someone else. He makes a mental note to tell Ciri about it.

Once Ciri and Geralt are settled once more, Jaskier slips from his bedroll, picking it up and hanging it in the hopes that it will dry some before morning. He's awake now, his head swimming with things unsaid and what ifs and he knows he won't sleep any time soon, so there's no point in trying.

He crosses the camp as silently as he can to where the horses are tethered and he settles himself between the thick roots of a tree, leaning back against the trunk. Roach leans down to him, nudging his shoulder and Jaskier looks up to find both of them looking at him, Jaskier's own horse with her head over Roach's back to see what he's doing. She gives a snort of confusion and Jaskier just looks up at her with a forced smile that does apparently nothing to appease her curiosity.

For some time, he just sits there, wondering where exactly he went wrong in his life until eventually, cold and emotionally exhausted, sleep overtakes him.

At first, Jaskier had hoped that this distance between them was just a side-effect of Geralt adjusting to parenthood and he tried to help in any way he could. But he can't teach Ciri to fight and Geralt knows more about herbs and how to use them than he does, and otherwise, Ciri is mostly self-sufficient. Other than her magic, which Jaskier soon learns, she's being trained in as well.

Yennefer blows back into his life in a big way on a sunny afternoon in mid-summer. She seems softer than the last time they'd seen each other and she smiles when she spots Ciri practicing with a wooden sword next to the river. Jaskier has learned well enough in the past not to disturb her, so he keeps quiet and continues with his task of gathering firewood. He hadn't understood at the time, why Geralt had wanted to make camp so early in the day, but it seems clear now that this was an arranged meeting place and he doesn't suspect they'll be leaving again before morning.

So while Geralt is busy with Yen and Ciri, Jaskier may as well make himself useful. Maybe he can't be emotionally available to Geralt the way he used to, but he can still help. So he sets off deeper into the trees, intent on finding enough wood to keep them going for the evening. But when he returns to the smell of smoke and a crackling fire, his heart sinks. As he sets his gathered firewood down, his only solace is that no one seems to have noticed him and he's able to slip away again quietly.

Yen travels with them after that. She doesn't seem concerned about Jaskier's presence and, on occasion, she'll even speak to him without sounding inconvenienced. It's more than she's ever offered in the past and considering his tenuous position with them, Jaskier's almost pleased about it.

But with Yen comes more training for Ciri, this time in magic, which means she has less time to listen to Jaskier play or tell him about her adventures with Geralt. Which is fine; she's still young and she needs to be able to understand her power as much as she needs to be able to fight with a sword. So Jaskier takes another step back.

After the mountain incident, Jaskier had hoped someday that things might go back to normal for him and Geralt. Now, despite Yennefer's improved attitude toward him, their relationship seems tenser than ever. And after a couple of weeks travelling with Yen, Jaskier starts to wonder if he really fits with them anymore.

But he can barely complain, what with Ciri having lost everyone she ever knew and loved. And Yen's history. And Geralt's inability to enter certain towns without being shouted at and called a monster. In relation, Jaskier's problems are not that bad. It doesn't stop it from hurting, but it stops him from talking about it because he doesn't really have a good enough reason to be upset. And his relationship with Geralt is already strained at best, he doesn't want to make things more complicated between them and end up losing Geralt again, maybe for good this time.

Only keeping things to himself is harder than it seems because Jaskier constantly feels unwanted and unneeded. Because Geralt has Yen and Ciri, Ciri has her training with both of them, and Yen never really much cared for him to begin with. So where is he supposed to fit in with that? What can he do for them that someone else isn't already doing? Everything he used to do for Geralt has been taken over by someone new and as the days drag on, Jaskier begins to wonder if he's not just hindering them by tagging along.

But where would he go without him?

They're all sitting around the fire one night after Ciri's gone to bed and Jaskier's writing in his notebook, trying to force the lyrics to a ballad that just doesn't want to come. He has the tune, but he can't quite get the words right, so he hums under his breath, trying to work through it as Geralt pokes at the fire.

"Jaskier," Geralt grunts and Jaskier looks up at him, surprised and a little nervous. "Be quiet, Ciri's asleep."

"Oh," he says, "right."

He shuts his notebook and measures his breathing, trying to keep from getting too upset. It makes perfect sense that Geralt would ask him to be quiet, Ciri doesn't sleep well a lot of the time and he shouldn't disturb her when she does. It still hurts, but he packs his things back up and turns in for the night.

Geralt seems unfazed but Jaskier lays out his bedroll right at the edge of their camp and settles in. He doesn't know what else to do with himself; whatever he and Geralt once has is clearly gone now, everything is about Geralt and Ciri now or just about Geralt, off on his own to provide for a child he never wanted. There’s no room in his life for Jaskier now that he has Ciri.

As he lies down, he tries to think back to before Geralt, but he doesn't remember what he did with himself back then. He was young and foolish and a very different person than he is now. And even after, when he and Geralt were separated but still friendly, Jaskier would write about him or sing about him and tell stories about their adventures together. But it was all about Geralt. For two decades of his life, everything centred around Geralt and now he's faced with the prospect of losing him completely.

Geralt is a simple man; he needs food and coin and sex - most nights he won't even blink at sleeping out in the rain. Jaskier can offer him none of those things when they're staying away from towns, so why is he still here? He wants what they used to have when he could at least keep Geralt company during the long nights. Now, he can't even offer him that. Things can't go back to the way they used to be because Geralt has Ciri now and Yen is back in his life and Jaskier just... is.

And every time he tries to think about what he did wrong, he can only picture Geralt's face on the top of that mountain, how angry he sounded when he told Jaskier he wanted him gone.

Jaskier looks at Ciri, curled under Geralt's spare blanket, and he knows Geralt blames him for this responsibility that he never wanted. And maybe it is his fault because Geralt never would have been at the banquet otherwise. And maybe Yen leaving was his fault, too because Geralt never would have met her if Jaskier had just left the damn djinn bottle alone. Maybe all of this is his own fault. Jaskier lays his head down, fighting back tears as he wonders how he could have single-handedly ruined the one good thing that life ever gave him.

Summer fades into autumn and things only get worse.

Yen joins them again when the air starts to cool and Jaskier finds the only thing left for him to do is to distract Ciri when Yen and Geralt disappear off on their own. He doesn't want to think about what they get up to and he's certain Ciri doesn't want to know. The pair of them share a tent, which Jaskier is thankful for only because it means he shares with Ciri and he would prefer that to sharing with either Geralt or Yen. Ciri trusts him and when they're alone she still likes to sit and listen to him sing, plus the one perk of travelling with a sorceress is extravagant magic tents.

When it starts to get really cold, Jaskier's thoughts turn back to Oxenfurt. If he's going to go back for the winter, he needs to leave soon before it gets too cold to travel. He knows Geralt is taking Yen and Ciri to Kaer Morhen with him and he doesn't think he could stand spending the entire winter with them, even if he was invited.

He gives it a couple days' consideration before deciding he can't bear this any longer. He'll go to Oxenfurt for the winter and come spring he'll just have to figure out how to move on with his life because all of this is too much. Ciri has both Yen and Geralt now, and if he thought being in love with Geralt was hard before, it's nothing compared to how it feels now.

He's in the middle of organizing his things for the long ride out to the coast when Ciri finds him. She comes up and plops herself next to him, peeking over to see what he's doing.

"We're not leaving yet," she says, "why are you packing?"

"I have to go."

"You aren't coming to Kaer Morhen with us?"

"No."

He doesn't elaborate because he can already feel his chest contract and he has to be able to hold it together for a little longer. Ciri huffs and as she walks away, Jakier's hands still on his pack. He doesn't want to leave her and he feels bad about it, but it will be better for all of them in the long run.

Jaskier finishes packing and getting Buttercup saddled and he's just about ready to leave when Geralt approaches him. Jaskier hasn't spoken to him about leaving, but since he and Yen rarely talk to him, he didn't think he had to. But Geralt rests a hand on his forearm and when Jaskier turns to look at him, he seems conflicted.

"Ciri wants you to come with us," is all he says and Jaskier deflates a little. He was so close to making a clean break, but Ciri has lost so much and if she wants him there, who is he to deny her a little familiarity? He doesn't say anything to Geralt, but he unslings his lute from his back and leans it up against the tree and it seems to be enough.

But they travel to Kaer Morhen and once Jaskier is over the stunning scenery, it's just more of the same only warmer. The guest room in the keep is spacious and the fireplace is more than enough to keep him warm, but he stands at the top of the stairs and as he looks around, his shoulders slump. He and Geralt have always shared a room, even when an abundance of coin would have made it easy to rent two rooms. Jaskier didn't really expect to be sharing with Geralt after everything but knowing it wasn't even a thought hurts.

He reminds himself that he's doing this because Ciri wanted it and urges his feet to move, crossing to the bed in the centre of the room. At least when he needs a place to escape to, he can come here and not want for warmth or inspiration. His balcony has a beautiful view of the valley and so long as he's willing to fill it himself, there's a large tub to one side of the room. He's stayed in much worse places all in all, and he's grown accustomed to spending a lot of time alone. Maybe it won't be so bad.

But once everyone has arrived, he realizes he was wrong. The Witchers are friendly enough, even the two from other schools who Jaskier has never heard of before. Ciri tells him one of them is Lambert's boyfriend and it was a big scandal last year when he showed up. Jaskier's heart just sinks, realizing even Ciri is included in all of this and he knows nothing of them. He's not even sure which one Lambert is because Geralt has never been a very descriptive person. It’s just another reminder of what he’s lost and he forces a smile to keep from showing his feelings.

Watching them all finally gathered together in the main hall, Jaskier realizes he's made a mistake in coming. He felt like an outsider with their little group travelling the wilderness, but it's nothing to the way he feels now. Like an intruder, an interloper who's snuck his way in when no one wanted him. Even the reminder that Ciri asked for him doesn't help now because Geralt has his old family and his new family and what could a bunch of Witchers and a sorceress possibly want with a bard?

He has enough rations left in his pack that he skips supper the first night. He can't bear to listen to Geralt talking to everyone when Jaskier can barely get a few words out of him these days. Some things just aren't destined to be. Sometimes it's better to let something die than it is to suffer meaninglessly.

Jaskier slips away up to his room and goes to sit on the balcony. The weather is still fairly decent, warm enough that the cold doesn't get to him until after dark. It's only when he returns inside that he realizes he only has one lit candle and it's too dark to look around now. So he strips out of his clothes and climbs into the cold bed, blowing out his single candle before curling in on himself and shutting his eyes.

In the morning, Geralt and Eskel set out to clear some mine or other of kikimores. Jaskier doesn't come down from his room until later that evening and the only joy he gets from it is catching the tail end of Eskel's story about the mine. But that doesn't last long, so he makes his way down the halls because if he's going to be staying here a while, he might as well get to know the place.

But barely half an hour into his exploration and just as his nerves are starting to settle, Jaskier comes upon a room with an open door. He doesn't look in, but he hears Geralt's voice, grumbling about something or other and then Yen mumbling, just get in the damn bath so I can wash this shit out of your hair and something inside him that was just barely holding on shatters.

That one hurts more than anything. It had taken him years for Geralt to be comfortable enough to let him stick around while he was in the bath. Longer, even, to let Jaskier take care of him the way Yen apparently does now. Something sticks in his throat and as soon as he rounds the corner, he slumps against the wall, choking back a sob.

All he ever wanted was to love him, in whatever way Geralt would let him, but this is almost worse than being told to leave. This time, Geralt won't even do him the service of telling him he wants him gone, this time he'll just replace him slowly but surely, finding someone new to do all the things Jaskier once did for him. This time, Jaskier doesn't need to be told to leave; he can tell when he's not wanted.

He waits three days, ensuring he has enough supplies, before seeking out Yen. She won't care enough to tell anyone right away, but she cares for Ciri, so if Ciri asks after him, she'll know. Plus, if he tells Geralt he’s leaving, he'd have to see the utter lack of emotion on his face, and he couldn't bear that.

Jaskier makes his way down through the courtyard without interruption, stopping at the stables to bid farewell to his horse. He hasn't had her long, but she's been good to him and he hopes she'll be just as good for Ciri.

For hours, Jaskier walks, recalling the path from memory, then just as it gets dark, it starts to snow. And once it starts, it doesn't stop and he's forced to take shelter in the first place he can find. It's cold and hard to trudge through the deepening snow and he didn't consider how hard it would be to find food up in the mountains. But none of that matters because the only place he can find to sleep is a cave, the entrance just barely visible to him in the dark, and when its resident comes home, he's liable to be eaten before he has to set out again.

He tries to build a fire, but the only wood he can find are the small trees just outside the mouth of the cave and they're soaked from the snow. Bitterly, he thinks that it's never this difficult for Geralt and at once, something clicks into place.

This isn't his life. The reason he doesn't fit is because he doesn’t belong. He tried to make it work and maybe for a little while he did, but he belongs in the city, not out in the wilderness. The reason he doesn't fit is because he's trying to be something that he's not. He's a bard, not an adventurer.

With a sigh, he sinks to his knees and wonders if he'll make it through the night. Maybe he should have waited at the keep until spring. He's never been out on his own like this - not so far north in unfamiliar territory -, but even now the thought of staying up there with Geralt and Yen makes his stomach turn. So he pulls his knees up against his chest and wraps his blanket around him. He tries to sleep, but the wind howls and snow blows in through the mouth of the cave and he just ends up damp and cold and miserable.

Jaskier hadn't realized he was asleep until a sound near the mouth of the cave wakes him. Assuming it's whatever lives here, he's thankful that at least the cold will no longer be a problem for him. He doesn't want to die, but being eaten by a monster is better than slowly freezing to death. But when he opens his eyes, there's a person at the mouth of the cave, not a monster. The first thing he thinks is who the hell is out in this storm? but it doesn't take long before he has an answer.

"Jaskier?" Fuck. "Jaskier, are you in there?" He wonders if he's quiet if the monster might come back and eat him after all.

"Yeah," he mumbles and it's all he can manage, but he knows Geralt will hear. And he does. And he pushes through the snowdrift, breathing heavily as he drops to his knees before Jaskier and hauls him into his arms.

"What were fucking thinking?" he growls and Jaskier winces at the anger in his voice, but then he's being pulled forward against Geralt's chest. "Idiot. You're frozen."

"Snow," Jaskier mumbles, not quite sure what to do with his arms. He doesn't know what's happening, but it ages before Geralt moves again, though he never stops telling Jaskier he's an idiot. That much, at least, feels familiar.

When he does finally pull away, Jaskier can barely see him in the dark but he knows Geralt can see him. Which means he can see his puffy eyes and he probably knows how scared and confused he is right now. And he hates it. He wants to push him away, but Geralt is warm and Jaskier is freezing and he finds himself swaying back toward his body. And after a quick once-over, Geralt lets him.

Once he's apparently satisfied that Jaskier isn't in immediate danger, he settles against the wall of the cave and pulls him into his lap.

"Why didn't you light a fire?" he asks and most of the anger has left his voice, replaced with soft concern.

"Couldn't get it lit," Jaskier shrugs, "wet wood."

For a while, Geralt is quiet again, tugging Jaskier's blanket up around him and just holding him. It doesn't occur to him until much later that Geralt is trying to get his body temperature up.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Hmm?" Jaskier had nearly drifted off, wrapped in the warmth of Geralt's body, but the question startles him awake again.

"Why did you leave without telling anyone?"

"I told Yen," he offers, but he knows it's weak.

"You told-" Geralt scoffs, exasperated and Jaskier can't figure out what the big deal is. No one wanted him there, anyway.

"Why are you here?" he counters, "why didn't you just stay in the keep?"

Geralt stills and Jaskier turns to look at him, knowing he won't be able to see much in the dark, but it feels better having this conversation face-to-face.

"Why the fuck do you think, Jaskier?" And Jaskier just looks at him because he doesn't know. He can't fathom what brought Geralt out here in the storm. Because even if he did come to retrieve him out of some kind of sense of responsibility, surely he wouldn't risk leaving Ciri without a caretaker. When he doesn't answer, Geralt gets very quiet.

"Where were you going?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oxenfurt."

"You'd die before you got there," Geralt exclaims, the anger returning to his voice with a vengeance.

"I brought provisions. Where's Ciri?"

"With Eskel and Lambert. Why would you just leave without telling anyone?" Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes in this context, that anyone means me.

Jaskier pulls away from him, irritation winning out over the desire to be warm. "Because I didn't really think anyone would care," he says "I don't belong anymore, not since-" he sighs and readjusts so he's sitting across from Geralt. "What happened on the mountain can't be fixed, Geralt. And I told Yen, I figured she'd pass the message along."

Geralt lets out an exasperated laugh and Jaskier wants to slap him for it. He never should have come up here in the first place.

"Jaskier, if anything from that day is irreparable, it's my relationship with Yen. We only travel together because of Ciri, because it's beneficial for both of us."

"So why do you keep me around then? What good am I?" He doesn't mean for it to come out, but it does and he holds his ground, hoping he looks more determined than he feels.

"You're my friend, Jaskier. And Ciri loves you. You're the only one who feeds Roach those little sugar cubes she likes so much. You know, she gets snippy with me now if I don't have them for her. I even think Yen is beginning to enjoy your company." Geralt's voice softens and he reaches out, tentatively brushing Jaskier's hair away from his face.

"What about you?" Jaskier asks, trying to keep the unsteadiness from his voice.

"Do you really think if I didn't want you around I would have let you follow me out of Posada? Roach could easily have outrun you if I wanted to." His hand slips to cup his cheek and Jaskier barely resists shutting his eyes. It feels too close to intimacy, but he knows Geralt better than to think this is anything real. But he's forgotten what it feels like to be touched so softly and when Geralt bundles him back into his arms, Jaskier sinks into it despite his reservations.

"Jaskier," he breathes right next to his ear. "That day on the mountain, I was angry because Yen was right about me and I didn't want to face it. I had to take responsibility and then you-" he exhales deeply, tucking his head into the crook of Jaskier's neck. "I was struggling with my… feelings. I felt like I'd somehow forced you to stay with me the way I did with Yen. I couldn't bear to hear the same things from you so I-"

"Pushed me away?" Jaskier asks.

"Hmm,” Geralt says and his voice is tense with understanding. “You left tonight because of me."

"I didn't think you wanted me around anymore," he mumbles and it's not until Geralt shifts that Jaskier realizes he's got both hands fisted in his cloak. "I thought I'd save myself having to hear it from you. I didn't want anyone's pity."

Geralt hauls him up into his lap so the only way for him to sit comfortably is to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist. For a moment, that ferocity is back, but then Geralt tugs the blanket tighter around him, holds him closer.

"Why wouldn't I want you around?"

"You have Yen and Ciri and the other Witchers, what could you possibly want me for? Everything I used to do for you-" he chokes on a sob and curses himself for it before burying his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Everything I did for you, someone else does now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just... everything. All the things I used to do for you. When you don't sleep because of your nightmares, Ciri goes to you. When I tried to get wood for the fire it was already done when I got back-" he sighs and shifts away from Geralt a little. "The other night in the bath, Yen-"

"Yen?"

"I heard you," Jaskier says, "you don't have to hide it now. I know. It doesn't matter that much I just... I don't know what I can do for you when everyone else is doing what I used to do."

"Jaskier you don't need to do anything. You're my friend. And Yen- that's not what you thought it was. "

Jaskier isn't quite sure what to do with any of that, but when Geralt tugs him close again, he lets himself be held and buries his face in his shoulder. Geralt allows it, letting one hand slip up between his shoulder blades and bringing him closer. They stay like that for some time and Jaskier's heart aches for more than he should want. This is so much more than he ever expected but now with Geralt wrapped around him, he wants more.

When Geralt finally pulls himself away, he regards Jaskier for a moment before running a hand down his arm.

"Are you warm enough," he asks and Jaskier nods because even if he wasn't, he can't take much more of this before he breaks and says or does something he'll regret. "We should get you back to the keep and into a warm bath."

The idea of a bath is tempting, but more so is the idea of staying here in Geralt's arms for as long as he's allowed. Stil, Jaskier lets himself be pulled to his feet and led toward the mouth of the cave.

Their return to the keep is quiet and Jaskier isn't sure anyone else even realized he was gone until Geralt pauses and doubles back on himself, heading toward his own room rather than the guest room.

"Eskel's got a bath ready," he says by way of explanation.

"How did he-" Jaskier starts but he realizes the answer before he can finish. They were probably keeping watch, waiting for Geralt to return.

"I told him to," Geralt says, approaching the door and stepping back so Jaskier can enter the room first. It's darker than the room he's staying in, but there's a balcony off the far wall that lets in a little light, and candles placed on every surface. The bath is at the right side of the room and Geralt guides him toward it.

"It shouldn't be too hot," he says, "so it doesn't shock your body, but there's more water boiling by the fire if you need to warm it up."

"Thank you," Jaskier whispers. Guilt curdles in his gut and he pulls the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. He's still cold and eager to get into the tub, but more than anything he's dreading having to get undressed in front of Geralt. Luckily, he's spared that embarrassment.

Geralt claps a hand on his shoulder, lingering just a moment too long. "I'll find you something to eat," he says, "try to warm up."

Jaskier nods dumbly, waiting until Geralt has left the room to let the blanket slip from his shoulders. To say he doesn't understand would be an understatement. He's never seen Geralt like this, not even with Ciri, and a part of him wonders if he didn't freeze to death in that cave and this is some sort of weird afterlife. But the water is hot against his skin, a little too hot to begin with and his skin tingles as he slips into the bath and shuts his eyes. And Geralt's hands felt real, right down to the callouses. But it all seems a bit off.

Jaskier has been hypothermic before, more than once, and it wasn't like this. He's left Geralt in much worse ways than this and it's never ended with him in a bath drawn especially for him. But Jaskier isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he warms himself up without even having to use the extra water and upon getting out of the tub, realizes all his clothes are cold and soaked.

Frowning, he looks around the room and spots Geralt's pack dumped on a chair in the corner. Surely, Geralt wouldn't mind if he just borrowed some of his clothes. Just for a little while. Jaskier is the one who washes them anyway - or he used to be. His heart sinks again, but he pushes away the feeling, crossing to pull clean clothes out of the pack.

They fit him surprisingly well and they smell like Geralt which is both comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. The blanket is wet now too, so he hangs that with his clothes where they won't drip on anything important and heads down to the kitchen.

Geralt isn't there, but he can hear him shuffling around on the opposite side of the fire, so Jaskier settles himself at one of the tables to wait patiently. He doesn't hear Eskel approach, so he must already have been there, talking to Geralt, but their conversation suddenly gets louder before something crashes to the floor.

Jaskier keeps quiet, trying not to listen in because he knows it's not his place, but they're arguing in earnest now and Geralt sounds passive and ashamed in a way that's very unlike him. Then there's a grunt from Geralt and Eskel says, "you didn't fucking tell him," like he’s only just realizing this. Jaskier focuses very hard on a knot in the tabletop.

It's an accusation, not a question and it's followed by heavy footsteps coming toward him. He tenses up, not prepared to deal with an angry Geralt, but it's Eskel who comes through the door. He pauses when he sees Jaskier, gives him a sympathetic sort of look and mumbles something that sounds like goodnight before continuing onward up the stairs.

Jaskier sits and waits and eventually, Geralt appears through the doorway with two bowls of stew and rolls. He sits next to him, pushing one of the bowls toward him and Jaskier tries not to show just how hungry he is. They sit in companionable silence, which is more than he can say for the last few weeks and Jaskier settles. When they're finished, Geralt is the one to speak first, angling his body so he's facing Jaskier but not looking directly at him.

"It's getting late," is all he says but Jaskier understands. He moves to take their bowls away but Geralt rests a hand on his wrist and takes the bowls from him. "I'll meet you upstairs."

Jaskier nods slowly, not quite understanding. He makes for his own room, climbing up as far as the staircase goes and pushing the door open. He's quite frankly exhausted and doesn't even think to get changed before climbing up onto the bed. The snow on the balcony lights the room well enough, but he fumbles with a candle for a few minutes anyway before giving up on that idea. He's alone in the dim room for a few minutes before Geralt knocks on the door and Jaskier mumbles for him to come in.

Geralt comes to sit on the side of the bed and Jaskier's heart feels like it's pounding out of his chest. He doesn't know what to say or even how to process what they've already said, but in his need to fill the silence, he blurts out, "why do you and Yen share a tent?" And it's the last thing he means to say and he does want to know, but this is not at all the time.

Only Geralt smiles. It's a small thing, barely a quirk of his lips, but it's there and for the first time in forever, Jaskier feels comfortable in his presence.

"Because Ciri asked to share with you. You're a good memory for her, one of the few she has of home."

"Oh."

"Before you came back, she shared with Yen." Geralt looks down at him and the almost-smile turns to confusion. "You're wearing my clothes."

"Mine were wet, I can change if-"

"No," Geralt interrupts and Jaskier can feel his eyes on him, taking him in, "it's fine."

"Oh. Right. I'll wash them in the morning then."

"You don't have to, they look good on you. You should sleep now, though. Goodnight, Jaskier."

Jaskier's heart thuds. He doesn't want to let Geralt go before he gets a chance to finish their conversation from earlier. "Geralt?" he asks and the Witcher turns back to him in the dark. "If it's not too much to ask, could you stay? Just for a little bit?"

Geralt doesn't say anything, but he comes back, pulling off his boots before climbing up onto the bed next to him. He lays still and Jaskier doesn't reach out and touch, as much as he wants to.

Geralt is the first to move, shifting onto his side and reaching into the space between them.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier nods without hesitation, unsure of what's being requested. Seemingly pleased with his consent, Geralt's hand slips over his side and around his back, nudging him a little closer as he gets comfortable. Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself.

It's too much and not enough all at once and he wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to break this moment of trust. So he pushes through, presses into the touch and tips his head down to keep Geralt from seeing the mess of emotions that are sure to be plain on his face. Not that he wouldn't be able to feel them anyway, but still.

"I'm sorry things have been different since you came back," he breathes. "Sorry if I made you feel..."

"Unwanted?" Jaskier offers and Geralt winces at the word, his arm pulling just a little tighter around Jaskier's back.

"Mmm."

"Are we... okay?" Jaskier asks tentatively, finally risking a glance up at Geralt's face.

"As long as you don't do that again," Geraly mumbles, "you... scared me tonight. I've been thinking so much about how to protect Ciri that I didn't consider losing you."

"You won't," Jaskier promises. "I won't." He moves closer, testing Geralt's limits, but his guard seems to be down tonight; Jaskier presses right up against him before Geralt so much as moves. And then, it's only to hold him closer.

He must have been genuinely worried, Jaskier thinks, to allow this right now. Which is the only reason he says the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

"I didn't mean to worry you," he says softly, slipping one hand up to cautiously rest against Geralt's chest. "I didn't think-" he shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts, "well, I didn't think you would come out after me. I'm sorry."

"Maybe..." Geralt starts then turns his head away like the words are difficult for him. Jaskier braces himself for something he doesn't want to hear, trying hard not to pull away defensively, but Geralt surprises him. "Maybe we both need to be better at saying what we mean."

Instead of drawing away, Jaskier slips his hand up to rest against the side of Geralt's neck. This is absolutely uncharted territory for them and he's not quite sure what to do here. What do you do when the least communicative person you know says you should talk about things more. But he's not wrong and Jaskier's touch seems to relax him a little, so armed with that information, Jaskier presses forward.

"You're right," he says. "So if we're going to... say what we mean, I should tell you that all of this with Ciri and Yen and everyone up here - it scares me, Geralt." Geralt opens his mouth to speak, but Jaskier just shakes his head. "Please just let me finish. Yen is a sorceress. Even if your relationship with her is over, she will always be a part of your life. Ciri has powers I can't even begin to comprehend. Your brothers and the others- they're Witchers, Geralt. All of them will be with you for years to come and all of them have been with you - barring, Ciri - for years. How can I live up to that? How can I possibly find a place in your life when soon I'll be gone and they'll just-" he chokes on the last word and can't bring himself to continue.

Words are his livelihood and yet when he needs them the most, they seem to fail him entirely. Luckily for him, Geralt is accustomed to non-verbal communication and understands. But in the faint light of the room, he looks like he wants to retreat, to pull away and forget everything he said before. He doesn't and Jaskier realizes this is just as difficult for Geralt as it is for him.

"Jaskier," he shuts his eyes and Jaskier holds his breath. For one awful moment, everything is silent, then Geralt speaks again, quiet and soft. "Everyone else in my life has been brought to me by forces outside of my control. I never chose to become a Witcher, to be brought here as a child as raised with dozens of other boys who would never make it to adulthood. I never intended to bind myself to Yen - Djinn are tricky and bend wishes to their own amusement. And Ciri- how was I to know Pavetta was already with child when I claimed the law of surprise?"

Jaskier wants to remind him of the multiple other occasions in which the law of surprise has gifted someone a child, but he doubts this is the place to bring up Geralt's mistakes.

"But you," Geralt continues, speaking slower like each word is pulled unwillingly from his lips. "You came to me on a whim. I could have left you in Posada, ridden away and left you in the tavern." He sighs, tips his head up so his forehead presses against Jaskier's. "But I chose not to. I chose to let you come with me. And I regretted it, in the beginning."

"I certainly hope you said nicer things to Yen when you found each other again."

Geralt huffs a laugh, just the fainted sound in the dark, but his breath is warm against Jaskier's cheek. "Let me finish."

"Do you promise you'll say nicer things about me?"

"Hmm, maybe."

"Fine then, finish your story."

"I regretted it, in the beginning, but it was still my own choice, mine to regret. Over time I grew... attached. That first time you left me was the first time I really felt lonely since undergoing the trials."

"You leave your brothers every spring," Jaskier says, an attempt to mask the hammering of his heart.

"I do, but so is the life of a Witcher. It's the way it's supposed to be. There's no room for loneliness. There were no rules attached to you and so when you left it seemed too quiet."

"Are you... are you saying you like having me around?" Jaskier asks, the hopeful tone in his voice a backdrop to the thudding in his chest.

"Yes," Geralt replies, "I dread the winters when I come up here alone."

"Then why do you? And why did you say Ciri wanted me to come?"

Geralt makes a noise that sounds something like embarrassment and Jaskier's sure if he could see properly, he would be blushing.

"I'm sorry," he says again, "I couldn't ask because if you said no I- but I knew you'd never say no to her. She told me you were leaving and I knew if I let you go I wouldn't see you again."

"You idiot, you could have just asked me. I follow you into swamps and monster dens and worse- why would I say no to spending the winter here?" He shifts to run his fingers along Geralt's jaw and sighs. "You're my-"

"Friend?" Geralt offers and the sound of that word on his lips makes something warm swell in Jaskier's chest, but he remembers his promise to speak plainly.

"More than that" he admits. He ducks his chin, unable to look at Geralt while he speaks, this time. "I tried so hard to just be a good friend to you, but it's always been more than that. I don't expect anything from you, of course, but you said we should-" He's cut off by gentle fingers tracing the line of his jaw and he shuts his eyes, waiting for the inevitable downfall. But it doesn't come.

"Jaskier," he breathes, "if you're worried about your place in my life, this is it." Geralt tips his head up and their lips brush against each other just for a second, but Jaskier is certain his heart stops beating altogether.

"Geralt?" he whispers but it comes out as an uncertain whimper. Geralt hums in response, shifting to cradle Jaskier's head in one hand, and he presses in again.

This time Jaskier knows it's intentional. The lips against his own are warm and soft, whispering silent promises and asking for the same in return. Jaskier responds tentatively, but as soon as he does, Geralt is gathering him up against him and his uncertainty vanishes.

He's seen Geralt kiss before, but this is nothing like that. Geralt kisses him with a passion that speaks of years of repression and guilt, begging for forgiveness for something Jaskier hadn't realized he was even doing. And Jaskier forgives, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair and submitting readily when Geralt rolls him onto his back.

Geralt gets a knee between his thighs and Jaskier's breath catches as Geralt's hand slips under the hem of his borrowed shirt. He'd be more than happy to lay here and let Geralt kiss him senseless, but when Geralt's teeth graze against his lip, Jaskier groans, effectively shattering the moment.

Geralt draws back, looking down on him and Jaskier slips his hands around the back of his neck. "Do you mean that?" Jaskier asks, “about me belonging with you?” Geralt nods.

"Of course, if you want to leave, I'll take you back to Oxenfurt, but I'd prefer if you stayed here."

"Right here?" Jaskier asks, sprawling under him against the mattress.

"Right here," Geralt confirms with a soft smile. "With me."

[florbelles]

🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊 for lyra + childhood!

thank you lovely! 💕 sorry this is so late as always

🖊️ she made valiant efforts to get kicked out of every boarding school she attended, but she was largely unsuccessful; she was too well liked, too academically successful, her family’s donations too high. bails could be paid, records could be wiped, schoolboards could be bought. she did, however, switch schools frequently; it required less effort for her parents to shuttle her off to another school with a fresh rep than to run damage control, so that’s what they did. rumors followed her, of course, but rumors followed everyone; she was liked and therefore pardoned, even when she didn’t wish to be. despite claiming she wished to cause problems on purpose, lyra always made stellar impressions on the staff and her peers; she craved attention from her parents, even the negative attention that came from becoming a nuisance, but her fear of rejection and desire to be loved & accepted -- even by people she purported to hate -- overrueld everything else.

🖊️ lyra was always surrounded by friends and admirers as a girl, but she rarely formed lasting connections or relationships. she left school every year knowing it was likely she wouldn’t return; she spent all her childhood summers on the island, playing on the beach and later sneaking out at night & having flings with the summer people -- placeholders, easily discarded and forgotten. she loved them, but leaving them was inevitable, whether she wanted to or not; everyone in her life was a summer person to her, even -- especially -- her parents.

🖊️ she ran away on twelve separate occasions. her parents couldn’t ship her out if she was already gone. the first time, she was found sobbing in a florida diner nearly five days later. she loved the sense of freedom, she loved the thrill of it, but she knew her parents and their reach. she knew they could have had her back home within a day if they’d tried hard enough, if they’d pulled enough strings. if they’d cared enough to look for her. it was a crushing verification of everything she’d ever feared; her parents didn’t love her. they didn’t see her. they didn’t care. later her father would tell her that it was because he knew her, how resourceful she was, how brilliant and manipulative she was; i knew you would be back. she was ten years old

🖊️ despite all appearances, she was an outdoor girl; she spent most of her summers running around wreaking havoc on the island, swimming out past beach limits or falling asleep in trees. she’s happiest out in the sun with grass or sand beneath her feet. her most constant companions were her family’s pets, which is the real reason she’s more comfortable around them than humans; they’re more familiar to her. they feel like home the way no person from her childhood ever did.

🖊️ she trained in both dancing and archery but never had the patience for music; there were scattered piano lessons that all ended with lyra becoming exasperated and slamming the fallboard on the keys and storming off. got her fingers crushed once. still resentful towards pianos to this day tbh. sailing is something she’s capable of but not especially proficient in; she was on boats all her life but rarely did any of the work. talented in equestrianism; she was climbing on horses long before she was permitted ( which was, perhaps, the source of its appeal ). tennis, volleyball, golf, and the like were all hopeless pursuits; she played them often and badly and never improved.

🖊️ wasn’t truly raised with religion; her mother’s family was catholic and her father’s was christian in a cultural waspy way, but it wasn’t something she was immersed in ( ironically, if she had been, she would have much less susceptible to the cult later on, out of disdain for anything evocative of the way she was raised if nothing else ). for the sake of conversation & debate, she was well versed in various religions from a philosophical or academic standpoint at an early age, but it was all theoretical to her; it was never in practice.

🖊️  played the party girl in her early teens, the wreck, the liability, the hellion dancing on tables at her father’s events, but she was always watching. observing. seeing. she saw everything. she saw the way her father’s married business associates looked at her, the way their eyes roamed even when she young. she saw the glazed eyes and false smiles. she saw the bruises and the red-rimmed eyes, the dilated pupils, the leering grins. she saw the cards that slipped up sleeves, both physically and proverbially. she saw them, and she loathed them, and she thought one day, i’m coming for all of you. one day you’ll pay. one day you’ll all be ashes under my goddamn feet.

🖊️ lyra’s relationship with her mother cannot be described as tumultuous because the tumult was entirely one-sided; isabela is completely apathetic to her daughter the way she’s apathetic to her cheating husband and her performative life, and that, to lyra, is worse than hatred -- hatred is still emotional investment, it’s still something felt, it’s still real. it was more complicated with her father -- she was always lovely, and of that, lawrence was exceptionally proud; he liked showing her off at social & business functions, his beautiful girl, an extension, he believed, of himself; he didn’t know or care to know her, not really, but he loved her the way one loves something they’ve won -- the trophy daughter of his trophy wife, charming enough to fill the shoes isabela grew too drugged & numbed to walk in. he chose to believe lyra to be just like him, that they understood each other in a way other people could not; it never occurred to him that she abhorred him, that he represented everything in the world that she loathed. still, she wanted him to love her, see her, appreciate her, and that was why she kept silent when she sniffed out his affairs & shady business deals, not the jewelry he plied her with in exchange for keeping his secrets. that he tried to buy her off, that he thought it was what she wanted, left her completely devastated; he wouldn’t accept her refusal of his gifts, so she would try to give them away. as a child, she didn’t understand that she couldn’t simply hand a diamond necklace to a cocktail waitress, but she realized. she learned the game. and she seethed.

[canticleofmercy-a]

@brightflight

“Hope is for children and optimists,” she told him softly, touching one big, calloused hand. “And, perhaps, for true believers. I can’t count myself as any of them anymore.”

The flickering green light of the Fade was weird and unreal, but his knuckles, scarred and rough as they were, were yet warm under her fingertips. They had wasted too many years; and now time had fled them both. His hair was flecked with silver. There were lines at the corners of her eyes. The ground seemed to shift under their feet as the bulk of the thing that waited for them moved closer, grasping maw chittering and clacking horribly.

“And it’s not a promise, in any case. A vow. I’ll see this part of it done. You help the Inquisitor finish the rest. And Thrask… tell Varric I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

A moment and she would step away from them and go face an end that she was somehow certain belonged to her. A moment and she would be far from his reach, from anyone’s reach. Thrask grabbed her hand with his before she could do that. He held it tightly, painfully so, and glanced away, first towards the Nightmare, then towards the Inquisitor and their Grey Warden.

« No », he replied, with a firm voice, and a gaze that still danced (from her, determined, to the Inquisitor, pleading). « It’s just a demon, Hawke. Corypheus is the one who deserves your energy. » His voice got lower; this wasn’t intimate enough to say some of the things that thudded against his ribcage to the rhythm of his shaken heart. But when would there be a chance to say them again? Never (and that shaken heart sank). Never.

« I let Olivia go once because she begged me to. I will not let that happen again. I love you like I loved her, but even if you couldn’t save her, you can save yourself now. You better do it, Hawke. You better do it. There’s a lot left to do for you out there. »

The monstrous spider loomed ahead of them. Too close. He turned towards the Inquisitor again. « Your Worship, please. »

[sensehurt-blog]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻

repost,  don’t reblog !

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.      cole, just cole PRONUNCIATION.       coal NICKNAME.       kid, compassion GENDER.         cole was ‘he’, so he goes by ‘he’ HEIGHT.   5′7″ AGE. ?? (the body he takes form of was in its early twenties) ZODIAC.         pisces SPOKEN LANGUAGES.    it depends. he understands language through other people. you could say he speaks everything -- you could also say he doesn’t speak anything at all. he can speak in most common tongues, at least.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.       platinum. EYE COLOR.        blue. SKIN TONE.         pale, almost sickly tone. BODY TYPE.        wiry, though he does have muscle tone. long limbed and unassuming, but can carry his own weight. ACCENT.         his voice actor gives him a british accent, though that doesn’t say much from where cole is or hails from. VOICE.         example here. DOMINANT HAND.         he uses both hands. it’s easier that way. POSTURE.         often bends, sitting or standing or crouched. he rarely stands with a straight back, his posture usually relaxed or withdrawn, shoulders hunched, hands brought to his chest. SCARS.         the body cole made doesn’t have scars. TATTOOS.         n/a. BIRTHMARKS.         n/a. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).       his hat. he rather likes his hat. appearance never mattered to him, as much as being. he didn’t intentionally or knowingly make himself hard to remember, or erase most noticeable features, but he tends to hide all the same.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.         it depends. compassion was born in the fade. cole was born in a village house. the cole now was born in the spire cell, holding a human’s hands. HOMETOWN.         the spire, maybe, though the only place cole really considered “home” was skyhold, in the inquisition. BIRTH WEIGHT.         BIRTH HEIGHT.           MANNER OF BIRTH.         there was no “birth” as more being created. first, out of feeling. second, out of someone else, of needing to help. FIRST WORDS.         n/a. SIBLINGS.         n/a. ( the original body of cole, had a sister, once. it’s unclear, but she must have died. ) PARENTS.         n/a. ( a mother, a father. it’s hard to remember the mother. the father is clearer. ) PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.         n/a. ( mother must have had magic. must have been hated. he remembers hiding, always hiding, and his father’s anger, spittle like venom, knuckles like bruises. it would have been better to never have been born with magic. magic killed him. templars killed him. )

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.         he doesn’t “work” -- he “helps”. he thought he was human, once -- in the spire. there he thought he was doing good by being an assassin (he wasn’t). the closest he has had to a job is being a companion to the inquisitor.  CURRENT RESIDENCE.          skyhold ( inquisition ). CLOSE FRIENDS.         the inquisitor. because he is close to the inquisitor, whoever the inquisitor is close to, he wants to be close to. solas understands, though. varric is a good friend, too. dorian is nice. iron bull tries to understand. cassandra changes. she has faith. all of them are good. ( vivienne makes him pause, mouth thinned ). RELATIONSHIP STATUS.          single. later, when becoming human, he romances the bard. FINANCIAL STATUS.         money is a strange concept to cole. he never had to eat, or drink, or use money for the usual things. if he needed something, he would make them forget. now that he can’t, he lives off of just what he needs. DRIVER’S LICENSE.        n/a. though in a more modern verse, i think cars would make him uncomfortable. CRIMINAL RECORD.         he has killed, and will kill again. he does not condone what he did in the spire. if he becomes as he was, he would rather die. otherwise, he does his best to help. if people see him as a demon, and consider that to be punishable, he has no objection -- though he doesn’t agree. he’s cole, not a demon. VICES.        overshares. not of his own pain, but others’ pain. he’s not good at social cues. not good at learning to be ... human, though he is trying, learning.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.         asexual / developing bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.         panromantic. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE.       submissive |  dominant |  switch. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.       submissive  |  dominant  |  switch. LIBIDO.         low to moderately low. TURN ON’S.         kindness, empathy. a beautiful heart. TURN OFF’S.        wanting to harm. LOVE LANGUAGE.    learning your name. nicknames, descriptions, they’re placeholders. a name makes someone more memorable, more real. if he cares about you, he cares about everyone you care about. he wants to be friends with your friends. he wants to help, more insistently; wants to help more than just the loudest pains. he’s less hesitant with touching, less reactive and fearful when being touched. gentle, outreaching, and more vocal about what he wants or feels. he trusts, so less hiding. more sustained eye-contact. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.       he’s just there to help, and he’s happy / contented if the person he loves / cares for is helping, too. that’s it.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.         i’m bad at this, but i do like humming, like on my blog. like a mother’s humming.  HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.         people-watching, helping anywhere he can. MENTAL ILLNESSES.         n/a. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.         n/a. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.         right brained. FEARS.      falling into despair / hurting innocents.  SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.         he’s never paid much attention to it. self-assured. medium. VULNERABILITIES.        despite a spirit made something like a human, he can still bleed, still be killed. he can be overwhelmed by people’s pain. crowds are still much too loud.

TAGGED BY:   @theharellan !!! i loved reading yours, solas is Love! thanks for tagging me TAGGING:    if you aren’t chicken you’re free to say i tagged you ;)

[wtchlings]

‘22 Fic Plans

I’ve been writing things but haven’t actually posted anything in years some so here are some 2022 writing goals. I don't plan to finish all of them but I'd at least like to start posting some stories. Quotes are placeholder titles and non-italic descriptions are placeholder summaries.

FANFICS

BUILT ON HALLOWED GROUND

The Owl House: (_/10)

Hunter reminisces on what it was like growing up inside the Emperor’s castle and just how different his experiences are compared to now, away from Belos and the Golden Guard persona.

THE FIREFIGHTER’S DAUGHTER

Winx Club: (_/4)

Snapshots of Bloom growing up through Mike’s perspective going from the time he rescued her from a fire as a baby to Bloom saving him and Vanessa at the end of season one and Mike coming to terms with Bloom being all grown up now.

“IN A MATTER OF LIFETIMES”

Legend of Zelda; Breath of the Wild - AU!: (_/_)

“The last thing Link expects to hear while hundreds of feet in the air atop a statue in the desert is someone yelling at them to get down. Well… maybe it’s not that unreasonable but there’s something about this Gerudo nomad -who they later keep running into- that seems overwhelmingly familiar despite having never met them before. New traveling companion acquired?”

“RWBY x ACE ATTORNEY”

RWBY - AU! (_/_)

“Jacques Schnee is dead and the main suspect is his wife Willow Schnee. Believing her mother to be framed, her youngest daughter Weiss, turns to an old friend for help. Ruby Rose is a fresh graduate from the Beacon School of Law trying to rebuild her family's old practice when her first case comes knocking on her front door. When Willow is charged with Jacques murder all three Schnee children come to their mothers defense. Now instead of defending one client, Ruby has moved onto defending the whole family. Maybe solving the murder herself would be easier.”

THE GRIM ADVENTURES OF ZOMBILLY & NECROMANDY

The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy - AU!: (_/_)

“Billy died. He couldn’t-shouldn’t have died. Mandy can’t handle the loss and tries to bring back her only friend from the grave only to be interrupted by the literal Grim Reaper trying to stop her. Just one thing, he’s too late.”

“LEGENDARIUM”

Legend of Zelda; Breath of the Wild: (_/??)

Isolated drabbles retelling different scenes and events inspired by a BOTW playthrough to make it sounds more dramatic but I didn’t want to write a whole fic about a playthrough.

THE ROADS THAT LEAD HOME

RWBY - Modern!AU: (_/??)

“Oscar likes his life living on his aunt's farm. He does his share of the work, gets good grades, and talks to his father a handful of times each year. But this year is different, this year his father tells him that he’s been offered a full time position as a headmaster of a school. It’s stable enough where they don’t have to worry about moving around so often, now Oscar can finally come live with him in the city. This choice isn’t something Oscar is very fond of.”

“NEWCASTLE TOWN” 

Legend of Zelda; - Modern!AU: (_/??)

Drabbles. Zelda!verse free for all. Maybe LU IDK. Multiple characters from different games set in the modern world bc I like family and have no real plot for this but like the idea. Might just turn this into art pieces IDK we’ll find out when we get there.

ONE SHOTS

MEMORIES AS HEAVY AS STONE

Winx Club

The Queen of Eraklyon is dead and the crown prince is missing. Sky doesn’t want to be found and Brandon’s off to search the castle for information. Things are really hard when you’re an eight year old pageboy and everyone is treating you like you don’t exist. Maybe Brandon can use that to his advantage.

FACETS OF A GEM

Winx Club

“All her life people have been telling Diaspro what was best for her. Every decision has been chosen for her, from what she was to wear down to who was allowed to become her friends. Just once she would like the chance to do something on her volition. Just how many opportunities would it take for her to finally get that opportunity?”

A BURDEN TO BEAR

Legend of Zelda; Breath of the Wild

“Through the Ages to most citizens of Hyrule, the sword strapped to the back of the Chosen Hero is a sign of hope. That as long as one is able to pull it from the pedestal to wield it in the face of evil there is still a chance that all will be right in the end. For others, seeing the sword is an omen. One that whoever holds the sword must endure no matter the cost.”

A SPARK OF FLAME

Winx Club

The Dragon Flame is passed down from heir to heir of the Domino throne. No matter if the next holder is ready or not the flame must continue to burn in order for Domino to survive. Marion. Daphne. Bloom.

YOU’RE IN MY STARS

Legend of Zelda; Modern!AU

Zelda sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night to watch the stars because Link swears they know the perfect place to do so.

[ahvarchive]

AAA what's the 'da2 tranquil shit' verse? it just sounds kind of interesting

im going to regret this placeholder tag arent i —

OKAY BUT.  in essence its just me and rea punching each other but.  okay so we have this verse where ahv get abandoned by her clan and, throwing timelines to the wind, ends up in the circle with anders.  they’re pieces of shit.  they cause trouble and generally just make life difficult for all involved.  they end up with feelings for each other because of course they do.

anders gets put in solitary for a while and when he gets out hes ALL EXCITED because holy fuck!  i’m gonna tell her i love her!  its gonna be great!  but then surprise when he finds her she’s got a brand on her forehead — the templars made her tranquil.  rea and i talked about anders options after; he escapes without her, maybe, but didn’t like that.  she’s still loyal to him, feelings or no, so she’d want to stick by him.  so — he escapes, like he does in canon, but takes ahv with him.

so in da2 hes.  everything is basically the same except anders has a tranquil companion hanging out around his clinic.  the other companions ask about her?  how much he answers depends on the q.  pry and it’s like opening up a can of angry glowing blue worms.

HAPPY ENDING is that when the tranquil cure gets found they use it on her and while her emotions and magic are really riotous and hard to control for a long time he’s patient with her and slowly she kinda gets it under control and she’s never back 100% to normal but.  it’s better.

( sad ending au is where ahv dies to protect him during 2 because she believed in his goal and he has 2 survive for that; her own survival isn’t as important but — )

[eh-440]

the writing meme

so like most writers I have way too many projects on the go

hit j at any time to jump past this ramble of a post rip readers

original stuff not going into too much detail about these but I have Ideas. I’m going to describe these in some arbitrary number of descriptors (I choose... 3)

No Current Title Bc Entire Premise is Being Reevaluated (rip old title) this sucker’s premise is in its third re-write rip me and anything I had written for it before -genre is... a subset of fantasy, I guess. it involves people with magical powers  so I’m calling it fantasy subset -involves chemistry bc I’m a nerd -basic summary is chemistry powers are ok when they aren’t being used to  rebuild a “““better””” world. also violating the law of conservation of mass  makes one reconsider their career starring -amelia: starts off realizing that 3 different groups of people have manipulated her and is reasonably angry about this. “all I wanted to do is camp for the summer but NOW I have to spend it training bc soMEONE didn’t tell me about this power until they had year-round (long story involving other manipulation) access to me to train me as their asset” (”I’ll do it. but I get to go back at the end of the summer” “there’s no way you’ll pass the proficiency tests at the end of the summer--” “WATCH ME. *hyPERFOCUS ACTIVATED* great #thanksautism let’s do this”) -emer: finds out that the people who trained them aren’t actually very nice folks and needs to get out of that situation. “so that’s why my older sister left welp things make sense now”. makes enemies who are not ok people. -vina: I was trying to come up with a description but I feel like the remember the name meme would work fine

Music in Mind -all about musicians (like orchestral instruments) -genre would be contemporary I guess -mini playlist (pieces and songs that characters either play or just like listening  to): the bach double, partita no 3, read all about it, air on a g string,  mendelssohn's octet, either mission impossible or bond music haven’t decided  yet, danse bacchanale, piano man, adeste fidelis (yes the latin version listen  this character is a bit extra), ashokan farewell starring:  -katherine: parents are dead, is moving back to her hometown, and has an abusive violin teacher now. “look life it’s been like 2 years can you not--” knock knock it’s depression but this time there’s no comfort in violin/new bff to help. spent her 4 years away being remade as a violinist and no one in her hometown is quite ready for it (including her) "who tf made me section leader listen I am Not Ready and I’m p sure my stand partner is going to kill me” -felix: as of this year has have to teach himself and practice in secret. on top of that, he’s at the critical point where a lack of proper technical base is becoming a downfall. “listen katherine I know I asked you for help but is it seriously possible for me to have been doing so many things wrong for years” (”yes. bc i was the same”) -natalie: been coasting on the fact that all the top music prizes are hers but now there’s some real competition

A Book (behold my beautiful placeholder why are titles so hard) -a fantasy world based loosely on the great race (the chinese legend) -people have animal companions -Something Happened to the dragons (barely any human/dragon matches are  left) and a girl makes it her mission to (a) find out wtf is going on and (b) find  her dragon counterpart (spoiler alert: she finds a dragon but then... knock  knock it’s Consequences You Never Considered Before aka time for a huge  survival challenge/race)

Something About Dragons (yet another placeholder bc none of these things have titles ugh) (also have you noticed that I like dragons?) this one’s under wraps bc it’s still wayyyy in Development Phase -chinese dragons--they’re so lit ok (tho not literally bc no fire power) -adopted kids -a main conflict I literally haven’t even thought about lmao this is the reason it’s  fourth on my original works list, but I’m still excited about it bc DRAGONS ARE  LIT

oh shit I literally forgot one why do I have so many projects

For the Record (finally another actual title) -basically about a big fam at their cottage -feat a kid trying to swim a few k across a lake, faster than her relatives who  have already done it. at 15. (for some background, she’s a swimmer/distance  swimmer lmao this isn’t random) -another list: tree climbing, rock and beach glass collecting, snake and frog  finding, ice cream, chess playing, card tricks

yoi fics bc @therealpigfarts23 convinced me to start writing fanfiction. it all started with this first one

#icegiraffeofrussia that’s its working and probs final title bc now I don’t think of it as anything else -yuri has a growth spurt, cue viktor nicknaming him the ice giraffe of russia -the internet runs with it -rip yuri growth spurts are mean and rinkmates are shits (like friendly shits tho)

pjo au that series was half my childhood (hp was the other half) -based in part on this post (fml took a while to find it wHY didn’t I put the url  somewhere earlier) -currently trying to grow a plot heLP (would bc condensed pjo-ified canon-  parallel plot listen I've already thought of how viktor can introduce himself to  yuuri naked in this verse there is no turning back) -gonna jam a bunch of things in this point. literal knife shoes. hamsters at  camp (shhhhh). capture the flag. possible Phone Defense Squad (long story). starring: viktor: son of nike, yuuri: son of aphrodite, phichit: son of hermes, yuri: son of idk yet, mila and sara: hunters of artemis, otabek: son of hephaestus, leo: son of apollo, jj: son of zeus (I had to, sorry not sorry), etc

Possibly Something about the Making of Yuri’s ex skate -idk yet

The Ongoing Summer Work AU  may as well add this too -in my chat with autumn, may or may not write up as short pieces later -literally based on my life/my job atm not even claiming to be completely  fictional lmao -everyone embarrasses yuuri (he makes it so easy lmao)

AND THAT’S IT FOR NOW WHO KNOWS WTF MY BRAIN WILL DO NEXT

[siirensung]

i love varas in his inquisition verse because

he’s just the HERO OF FERELDEN who appears like six months late in skyhold with starbucks and when people are like where were you we were calling for you to lead the inquisition he’s like ‘yeah i know i got your letters and i fell for that shit last time, i knew you’d find a placeholder, i’m just here to join in the fun’

so he joins as a companion and something of an advisor. mostly that he sits in on war table meetings because he has an honorary position as ‘hero of ferelden’ and he’s Big And Important, but he’s mostly there to make snarky comments and ‘oh that’s a bad idea’ and ‘i did something like that once. that was fun. and stupid.’

but he’s an extremely skilled companion and excellent as slaying dragons and darkspawn and getting into Shit

[yuehouzi]

verse information until i can get a proper page up.

main verse -- primarily post vol. 4 of rwby, but includes vols. 1-3 as well. yue lives in vacuo city with her parents, going to school by day and roaming the city streets in her free time. while what happened in vale hasn’t touched vacuo, it’s impacted yue deeply. her brother is missing, with no way to contact him. this is the first time in her life that yue experiences the rawness and vulnerability fear brings. she can only hope that what lurks in her nightmares doesn’t become reality.

trainee verse -- yue is 17 / 18 and a member of team liyr at shade academy. she hasn’t thought much about the future beyond obtaining her hunting license. she takes everything day by day, living to the fullest extent.

white fang verse -- yue was born into the white fang ( the white fang in which adam taurus is rising to power ). she fully accepts the group’s doctrine, actions, and world views because what reason does she have to doubt. she’s willing and eager to do her part for the cause -- that is, until everything changes. one night, she goes to sleep and wakes up an unwilling fugitive, taken from home by her brother and a family friend. they’re unable to return to the life she knew for reasons she doesn’t understand.

pokemon verse -- yue’s parents run a pokemon clinic in vacuo city. when she isn’t in school or helping care for pokemon, she tags after her brother or roams the city to take in as much as she can about people and their pokemon. she isn’t old enough to be a trainer, but her companion is an aipom that’s been with her as long as she can remember.

other verses under consideration: undefined ( placeholder verse for interactions that don’t fit into any other verses ), miraculous ladybug, demigoddess.

[itsfinancethings]

January 17, 2020 at 12:01AM

There were times when it seemed like Mac Miller would never stop rapping. At his peak, he was an indefatigable creative force who wrote and recorded hundreds of verses stuffed with cocksure bravado, unending internal rhyme schemes and sly double entendres. These verses were volleyed off onto grandiose Billboard-topping studio albums, knotty mixtapes scavenged by backpack rap nerds, or the projects of his countless collaborators at a breathtaking rate.

Miller, born Malcolm James McCormick in 1992, rapped with a restless determination: to outrun his initial reputation as a white frat rapper; to distract from his anxieties and addictions; to amuse himself and his friends; and to gain the respect of his idols, which he did: as Jay-Z admitted on Twitter, “Black people really magic. Mac Miller nice too though.”

But there’s not much rapping at all on Circles, his sixth (and presumably last) studio album released posthumously on Friday. Miller was well into the recording process of Circles when he died in September 2018 of an accidental overdose. Because he envisioned Circles as a companion to his previous album Swimming, released in August 2018, his family was left with an agonizing decision about whether to finish and release it: “This is a complicated process that has no right answer. No clear path,” they wrote in a statement on his Instagram page when they announced the forthcoming album. “We simply know that it was important to Malcolm for the world to hear it.” The album was ultimately completed by the veteran producer Jon Brion, who worked with Miller extensively before his death.

On Swimming and his previous album The Divine Feminine, Miller was already shifting his focus from dogged lyricism to shrewd songcraft, building out deep funk grooves and lush orchestral arrangements to reach a new creative pinnacle. Circles is the endpoint of this verbal retreat: Miller pared down his syllables to mostly embrace a soulful brand of folk rock, relying on his unadorned, plaintive singing like never before.

But Circles is also an anguished portrait of a man close to burnout, striving to escape the ruthless pace with which he previously carried himself. “Maybe I’ll lay down for a little / Instead of always trying to figure everything out,” he sang on the single “Good News,” released last week. Circles is not the culmination of an epic life’s work, but a heartbreaking plea for peace from a man who had spent a relentless decade in the spotlight.

While many of Miller’s final public performances—like on NPR’s Tiny Desk or The Late Show With Stephen Colbert—were driven by uptempo funk, Circles most resembles the back half of Swimming, which sinks into piano balladry and quiet expressions of regret. Miller was long a John Lennon superfan, and certain songs on Circles recall the rawest piano-heavy arrangements of Lennon’s work with the Plastic Ono Band—as well as the unvarnished arrangements and melodies of a different Brion collaborator, Rufus Wainwright. Miller also delivers a committed cover of the rock band Love’s “Everybody’s Gotta Live,” lending the existential 1972 anthem a bounce without sacrificing any of its mournfulness.

It may seem initially strange for one of the world’s most talented rappers to take his cues from rock, but Miller’s inclinations fit into a larger trend over the last few years in the hip-hop world of imbuing rap cadences with melody. The current Billboard Hot 100 chart-topper, Roddy Ricch’s “The Box,” is sung all the way through; many other artists, from Tyler the Creator to Dominic Fike to Brockhampton to Rex Orange County, have found the sweet spot between indie rock, hip-hop and soul. Streaming audiences have followed these artists to the spaces between musical walls: the genreless playlists Pollen and Lorem are two of the most popular discovery hubs on Spotify.

Miller used to hide his wavering voice under a phalanx of filters, pitching effects and doubled vocal tracks to the point that he was sometimes unrecognizable. But on Circles, he puts his unadorned singing voice front and center, lending the album a casual and startling intimacy. On “Hand Me Downs,” one of the album’s strongest songs, he effortlessly slides up to high notes with a husky sweetness before dropping back down to tiptoe over syllables with his trademark playful drawl.

Miller is no Aretha Franklin. But he employs his vocal chops with confidence and charm, and his comparative lack of vocal strength actually lends poignancy to an album haunted by anxiety and drift. He was admittedly taking opioids in the months leading up to his death, and Circles certainly feels like an album made on downers: his lyrics lack clarity or specific targets, and at times he seems to be singing at a remove from himself. “Ever since I can remember I been keeping it together / But I’m feeling strange,” he murmurs on “Hand Me Downs.” On “Hands,” he reprimands himself, as if to shake himself from a stupor: ”Why don’t you wake up from your bad dreams / When’s the last time you took a little time for yourself?”

Regret is a huge theme on Circles, with Miller constantly alluding to past mistakes; his lyrics and turn to aesthetic sparseness can be read as an attempt to distance himself from a previous frenzied or craven mentality. On the defiant and brash 2012 single “Loud,” Miller had announced “People lie, numbers don’t,” and cited sold-out shows and Billboard numbers. In direct contrast, Miller sleepily croons on “Surf,” “People, they lie / But hey, so do I” before delivering a new Zen-like mantra: “There’s water in the flowers / Let’s grow.”

If Miller’s new subdued attitude was healthier for him, it also put something of a wet blanket over his creativity. Miller often talked about wanting to have good days and bad days—to embrace the full and agonizing spectrum of human emotion. But Circles exists somewhere in the hazy middle, capturing neither the harrowing lows of Swimming nor the euphoric braggadocio of GO:OD AM.

And aspects of the album leave behind the nagging suspicion that Miller, if he had lived, might have completed it differently: he might have re-written generic placeholder lyrics (“I don’t know where I been lately but I’ve been alright”) and brought more life to instrumental parts that often sound like demos. Circles is perhaps too small in scale to be Miller’s final masterpiece; it doesn’t exhibit the mammoth musical growth that listeners had come to expect from him from album to album.

But it’s still compelling in its own drowsy way. Miller’s ability to locate and lock into unique, catchy flows and melodies is still extremely evident—particularly on the invigorating “Hands.” Brion deserves some credit for constructing blue-grey textures to match Miller’s somber mood. And his growth here is of a different type—toward a patient spirituality, toward being okay with stasis for the purpose of self-care. “Some people say they want to live forever,” he muses on “Complicated,” before adding, “That’s way too long, I’ll just get through the day.”

[truth-fourfifteen-blog]

Keep Believing The Promise!

1 Corinthians 7:14 "For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband..."

In context, "unbelieving" is referring to an unsaved spouse (you can see that in verse 16). But I want to point out another important point in this verse... the subject matter is faith and separation ("belief" and "sanctification").

The husband and wife were meant to be a team, a partnership. Each side has its strengths, and each side has its weaknesses. This applies even in the kingdom - even in the realm of faith.

There are areas in life where even the strongest husband has a hard time believing. And there are times when even the most devout wife can come up short in her faith. This is where the married believer has an advantage that isn't there when they're single

According to this verse, an UNBELIEVING (no-faith) husband can still be set apart in the area he's weak...by the faith OF HIS WIFE. And a wife who's struggling to believe for something can still receive the benefits of HER HUSBAND'S faith.

We see this clearly with Abraham and Sarah. There were times Sarah was weak in faith, but her husband's faith held onto the promise of God...until her faith came back. Then, in Hebrews 11:11, we see that it was HER faith, working together with her husband's faith, that finally pulled the promise in.

You can hold onto the promises of God, even if your spouse lacks the faith at the moment. Stay strong...and don't get angry!...if your spouse can't stand in faith with you at the moment. You won't lose anything! As long as YOUR faith is there, then THEY will be sanctified by it.

Your faith will act as a placeholder in God's promises. And soon enough, they'll join you there, receiving the promises that YOU'VE been believing for all along!

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, For he has no one to help him up. Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm; but how can one be warm alone? Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken."

This is the advantage of a godly, believing marriage!

[who-contest]

LJ Entry: Hell Is Other People

Title: The Void Spreads Genre: Drama Author: Gallifrey_Immigrant Word Count: 1,242 Characters: Twelfth Doctor; Penny Rating/Warnings: References to character death Spoilers: Extremis, and the end of Lie Of The Land Summary: The demons that have controlled the world have been defeated. And the Void spreads, with the Doctor as a blind witness. A voice called out to the Doctor. He ignored it for a time. The world was slowly deleting itself, now. Where the ground once was, a blackness had formed. The Doctor presumed it was black, but he couldn't sense it. It had been fed into the void, destroyed from non-existence. His footsteps carefully avoided the spreading darkness, although he wondered how it would feel. Screams from the uninitiated—the minds that hadn't been revealed to the Veritas—echoed all around the city walls. People marched around, but the Doctor couldn't see them. The voice called louder. Memories of all the battles the Doctor had won played in his mind. His sins—losing River, losing Amy and Rory, losing Gallifrey, and all the other losses—washed over him, falling down the back of his mind. Ironically, all he had to see now was his memories. And Bill. Her final cry, as she was deleted from this world, stung. Gunfire cracked in the distance. He didn't know what the conflict was, nor did he care. Let humanity squabble in their last moments. They were so good at it. When the void is coming, even violence can be an act of defiance. “Doctor.” He turned to the voice. It was familiar, but unknown. His mind rankled at it. “Who are you?” he asked. Someone's arms enveloped him. Soft lips kissed his cheek, and what felt like a bowtie rubbed his neck. “I'm...” said the person. His face frowned, and she sighed, saying “My name is Oswald. This world is deleting itself. I don't know how to stop it.” “It can't be stopped,” said the Doctor. He resented the resignation in his tone. “That doesn't sound like you,” said the voice. It was playful and warm. But specks of fear mottled it. It was a nice voice. The Doctor would have liked to know it better. But the void was growing faster and faster. He wanted to be in his TARDIS when the end occurred. He kept on walking. Following senses born from instinct and experience, he found his ship. That ship had helped him through so much, had traveled alongside him, and was the perfect resting place. He opened the door, preparing to sleep. “Hello?” said a voice. “Who are you?” asked the Doctor. Was it an enemy? He was tired of enemies. So tired… “I'm Penny. I'm looking for Bill,” said the voice. Ah, Bill's date. He had regretted interrupting that date. “She's dead. As you will be, and so will I,” said the Doctor dryly. He didn't feel like sugarcoating. The sounds of a human gasping came to his ears. He felt that there was something to say to her, some emotional nicety he might mention. But he wasn't made like that anymore, couldn't do that. There was no point. “How did she die?” asked Penny. “Deletion. As will everyone else. The Men in charge have been defeated. Now, entropy is taking its course. The universe is dying, getting ever closer to the black. All we can do now, is wait for the inevitable,” said the Doctor. His hands reached for a guitar, and strummed along. “That's horrible,” said Penny. No answer was required to that. The Doctor played some more. It was some old piece, about the death of God, but the Doctor had forgotten the name of it. He had forgotten quite a bit. Finally, Penny got up. He knew she was preparing to leave. “Bill liked you, I believe. I think that's the word for it,” said the Doctor. “I liked her, I guess? I mean, I didn't know what it was I felt. And now, she's dead...and I...” The Doctor whispered “If I had world enough and time.” More silence. He could hear Penny's breathing, could feel Penny sorting through thoughts and feelings. Outside, the void was growing. “How did you know her?” asked Penny. “Close the TARDIS door, Penny. Or leave. Your family is outside, somewhere. Or have become the blackness. Go outside, and perish searching for them. Or stay,” said the Doctor. “You're avoiding the question,” said Penny. A smile crept over the Doctor's face. He placed down the guitar, and closed the TARDIS doors. Then he clicked a few buttons on the console. “49 years. That is how long the simulation will last, until even the last speck will wither. That is how long you, or I, will survive here. About 1.5 billion seconds,” said the Doctor. Even in the simulation, he was a Time Lord. Even now, he could feel the seconds give out. In the time it would take to blink, the world would be over. And the Doctor could blink very fast. “Oh god,” he heard Penny say. He said nothing in response to that, as well. Revelations. That was the verse of the Apocalypse, when things were revealed. Unfortunately, the actual revelation had been less supernatural, and more existential. You do not exist. The Doctor never took his existence for granted. Except when he did, but that was a long time ago. He hadn't wanted to go back then, but he was different now. Except when he wasn't. “Are we just going to give up?” asked Penny. “That doesn't sound like you.” The words bubbled up. Some part of his psyche clicked, some slight strand of defiance. “No,” said the Doctor. An image of Katarina crossed into his mind. Or was that Amy he was seeing? Names, so troublesome. Even his name, originally just a placeholder, had become a burden. But, promises often were. He suddenly turned around, and rushed in front of Penny. He heard her jump. Humans, so easily startled. “Oh come on, now? The universe is always going to a heat death. I've always known that the universe would end eventually. But now we just have a timer. But besides that, there's no difference,” said the Doctor. Fear crept into his mind, assailed his confidence, but he ignored it. “Really? That means I know when I'll longer exist,” said Penny. He could hear her tears. “Yes. But you can either worry about it, or you can come with me. I can show you wonders. We can see the world, and the other worlds,” said the Doctor. Penny didn't make a sound. Then, she said “Sorry, I just can't.” She went up to leave. The Doctor grabbed her arm. What could he say? How could he get her to stay? “Listen, there's nothing out there. The world is going black. There's another world, with another Bill. She'll find the other Penny, and she'll find the other Penny. It's...listen. I'm nothing without an audience. And...just one trip. Please,” said the Doctor. “Why me?” asked Penny. “Fate. Coincidence. And Bill liked you, so you must have been something special. Plus, it travels through time. This is heaven's gate. Just say yes,” said the Doctor. It felt like his world hinged on her response. He didn't know what he would if she said no. “I'm sorry,” she said, and she walked out. The Doctor closed his eyes, and let the void he saw be his only companion. The sound of the door opening and closing reverberated into his body, giving his body life. He pulled himself up, awaiting the next statement. “You never told me how Bill knew you,” asked Penny. The Doctor opened his eyes. And a shark grin spread across his face, and an almost malevolent stare focused on Penny. Gotcha. Comment? http://ift.tt/2r5p0aN

[canticleofmercy-a]

@onioning 

« How seldom does reality match the ideal. »

   “Precisely,” She responds. Breathes a deep sigh, pacing about the room. Arms folded, eyes cast towards the window. How seldom, indeed, did ideals truly come to life. Things like world peace, true love and, Hell - even mages and templars getting along as brothers.

       How seldom indeed.

   “The high and the mighty sit on their thrones and imagine patting everyone’s back and some mild scolding will ever push a change. It will not. Mother Giselle is a good person, I wont deny it - but she’ll never have what it takes to allow the world to change. What it takes to allow the world to truly heal.”

       She knew her kind. Her kind was the reason the likes of the infamous Andershappened. Those who would rather avoid conflict in the name of politics and avoiding unpleasantries. No more. The rest of the world deserved better, better than fearing for their lives and hiding in the utmost furthest corners of the world, cowering under the iron hand ofmen.

       No more.

   “I’m going to do this.” She wont turn to look back at Thrask, instead continuing to face the window. She knows he’ll think her crazy. Everyone does. It doesn’t matter. She knows. “With or without yours or the Inquisition’s help - I’m going to do this. If the politics are to claim another life, let it be mine. I wont allow further bloodshed in the name of something that was supposed to be good, and was corrupted in the hands of men. Not anymore. Not as long as I live.”

Thrask observed the Spymaster with an attention that was almost a sense of wonder, almost filling his eyes with her figure, stark against the azure light coming in through the window. He sat on the wooden chair by her table, where a candle lay half consumed, the wax half melted like a life half lived. So many secrets had been written and destroyed on that desk. Nabalam was good at that, at handling secrets, and he thought that, if he’d had her with him back in Kirkwall... perhaps things would have turned out differently. 

She didn’t turn, and he didn’t answer, not at first. There was something too poignant in her words, something that he knew in an intimate manner, as a man knows his tears, those cried in silent moments, alone. He swallowed.

To speak, to speak all the words expressed in centuries by love, by pain, by the useless wisdom of men, only to learn that the most beautiful is the one in which a sentiment of yours is mirrored like in clean water. And her resolution was clean water, now. A mountain stream, flowing on stark rocks, melting from the icy peaks.

He took a deep breath, a quivering breath. With all that he had left behind, a trail of memories, of people carried in his heart like a sweet ache and a heavy weight, he had so seldom thought about his failed goals as if they were still within his reach --- so seldom thought about the future’s promises in their greatest scope. He had gained allies winning them one by one, back in the Gallows. He had walked through the Free Marches and Ferelden to reach the Conclave step by step. Now he looked at Nabalam wondered. How close they were. If it was the right path. If it was possible. 

« You are going to do this », he said at last, a soft statement, an acknowledgement of wonder. A pause, heart-clenching. « It is not going to be easy --- but you know that. Mother Giselle would be an acceptable alternative. But I know, you are going to do this. Thedas needs it, but no one’s life needs be claimed. I will make sure of that, if I can. »