#quene ran out again

[daily-neurodivergent-character]

Daily Neuro-Divergent Character #17

Marcy Wu!

From Amphibia!

Marcy canonically has Autism!!!

Requested by @andrewmoocow!

[ericshoney]

Quen's Sister ~ Chris Sturniolo

Summary: When Quen does her video with the Sturniolo triplets, you always appear as a special guest. Chris finds you funny and asks for your number.

Warnings: swearing, flirting, rizz chat 😅, chaos, fluff

a/n: never thought i'd put rizz chat in my stories 😂

Based off these requests

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Today Quen was recording another video about feeding starving influencers. You loved the idea and often appeared as a special guest in each video. You were two years younger than your sister and were well known amongst her fandom, as you appeared in her videos, TikToks and occasionally did your own.

You sat on the sofa, waiting for whoever was turning up. Yeah, Quen hadn't told you who she was collabing with today. But she did say you knew them. You originally thought maybe Larray was coming over again, but she said it wasn't him.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Quen shouted for you to open it as she set up some cameras. You laughed and went to the door, opening it to see the Sturniolo triplets.

"Hey!" You called, making the three smile.

"Hey Y/n, right?" Nick called.

"Yeah. Quen's in the kitchen." You replied, opening the door so they could walk in.

The three smiled as they came in and went to greet Quen. She said her hellos and then looked to you.

"Surprise." She said, making you laugh.

"What's a surprise?" Matt asked.

"Y/n's watched your videos for years, it was her idea for you to come today." Quen answered.

"Oh cool! Chris watches your TikTok's." Nick replied.

"Nick!" Chris shouted, slapping his brother on the shoulder.

You smiled and laughed softly. Quen smiled but didn't say anything.

"Shall we start?" Quen suggested.

They guys nodded as they started recording an intro. You then joined in as the regular special guest. You jumped in and cheered loudly making the group laugh. Quen then started to talk about what you were cooking, which you learned was Matt's suggestion.

When you all started cooking, you asked the guys various questions. That being your main part in the video.

"So what's the hardest part in working together?" You asked.

"Mainly just all being together for ideas, like merch drops. Like I'll get a message I need to share with Nick and Matt, but Nick might be in the shower or Matt is out." Chris answered.

"That makes sense, but even with all the silly arguments you have, it either over french toast, pancakes or waffles, it must be fun filming with your brothers." You replied.

The guys laughed, Nick groaning slightly, as Quen looked a bit confused. You said you would show her the video later.

"Can I ask you a question?" Chris asked.

"You just did, but go ahead." You replied.

"Kid throwing the bad jokes in there." Matt said with a laugh.

"When did you start watching our videos?" Chris asked.

"Well as Quen said earlier. Years. Probably just after you started posting on YouTube." You answered.

"Damn okay! OG fan!" Chris exclaimed.

You smiled as they continued cooking. You watched a bit and couldn't help but laugh as Matt screamed at Miso who walked in to see what was going on.

"Hi Miso." You cooed to the cat, she purred as she brushed up against her leg before wandering off again.

"Where is the rest of your body!" Nick shouted.

You then helped Matt with the pancakes, seeing it had turned out like a dough and not a batter. He was trying to read the box for any help.

"Dude it's not going to work, the damage is done." You said.

He laughed as Nick came over to help. You stepped back and saw Miso now on the counter and Chris fussing her.

"Miso doesn't like anyone." Quen mentioned.

"Really, she came up to me like this." He replied, mimicking what the cat did.

"It's probably because you didn't insult her body and haircut." You said, making him laugh loudly.

"I'm sorry your sister has a demogorgon as a fucking cat!" Nick shouted.

"Hey I just asked if the grooming was free." Matt said, putting his hands up.

You laughed as Miso ran off again. Chris smiled down at you, which sent butterflies to your stomach. You smiled back as he went to help Nick.

Quen then asked the guys some questions as you helped cut some of the potatoes. Quen started talking about fan edits and Matt's answer made you laugh loudly at how simple but honest it was.

"I get where he's coming from and I don't even fucking have as many fans as you all do." You said.

"You have a good following!" Chris cheered.

"Yeah I guess so. But I love just scrolling through TikTok and finding funny videos." You responded.

"Some of them are fucking weird." Quen said.

You laughed and pulled out your phone and showed the guys one of your favourite TikTok's. The three laughed as Quen shook her head.

"Can I get your number?" Chris then blurted out.

Quen, Matt and Nick fell quiet as they shared a look. You smiled and took Chris' phone and put your number in it before saving his in yours.

"Was that rizz chat?" He asked, before bursting out laughing.

You all laughed too the kitchen becoming even more chaotic. All of you joked about rizz and how kids these days were brain rot.

A while later, with many more jokes, teasing and some decent cooking, you all had a plate full of food. You dug in, happily eating and praised the guys cooking skills before finally wrapping up the video.

"That was a fun video." Matt said.

"Yeah the fans are going to have so much fun." Nick added.

"Especially over your flirting." Quen added, pointing between you and Chris.

Neither of you said anything but shared a look, smiling wide at each other. The guys then said their goodbyes, Nick and Matt giving you a friendly hug.

"Do you um maybe wanna hang out sometime?" Chris then asked you.

"I'd love too." You said, smiling.

"Awesome. I'll text you." He replied, also smiling.

You said bye, hugging him as well, Nick and Matt dragging him out the door, which made you laugh. He waved as they got in the car and drove off. Quen gave you a knowing smile.

"You like Chris and he likes you." She said.

"Maybe." You said, sitting on the sofa and scrolling through your phone.

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Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[anohai]

A big issue with Seyka’s character arc in Burning Shores...

*clicks tongue* Fuck it. 

I debated over writing this out and posting it. Decided I might as well for not only my personal catharsis, but because it's been over 3 weeks since Burning Shores came out, I have had the time to mull things over more, talk with some friendly people who came to the some of the same conclusions I did, and really analyze everything. I’ve seen a sprinkle of other people expressing something similar to what I am about to cover, but I felt this deserved its own topic of conversation. 

And forewarn, there be spoilers. 

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.

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Of course, we're back to Seyka. I promise I'm not trying to pick on her. She actually has loads of potential, and I don't think she's a bad character. It's just she deserved better than what was shown in her overall character arc.

Last time, I wrote about the Seyloy romance, and why it is difficult (for some more than others) to feel good about it. This critique isn't going to be about that again in case you are wondering if I'm simply yelling louder in the echo chamber, but there will be some correlation to it. The more I played the DLC, the more I realized that while I still wasn’t sold on the romance, it wasn’t the root of why something felt off with Seyka’s story to me. So once the adrenaline of having a new shiny DLC to run around in wore off and was able to properly take my time soaking things in, this was the conclusion I came to: 

The biggest issue with Seyka's entire character arc is that they tried way too hard to make her near-exile situation comparable to Aloy's when it very, very much is not. 

In any capacity whatsoever. As to why? 

Seyka tells us at one point that she loves her tribe, her community, and has always felt she's had a place in it until recently. The reason she's in any hot water at all when we meet her is because she ran off and stole a diviner's focus. Seyka is a marine, not a diviner so we know this is considered a huge taboo among the Quen. They are a sovereign tribe with a classicist system where the people are allowed to know only what is deemed necessary based on their role and/or rank. Should rules be broken, we are left to assume based on our conversations with Alva and even interactions with the Ceo & Overseer Bohai in HFW that the royal family and those in charge are imposing & unforgiving enough that normally there are severe consequences. 

Luckily for Seyka, this isn't the case. 

The first time we follow her back to Fleet's End, we're met with those who are referred to as Compliance Officers who are wanting a nasty word or two with our new friend. We are brought to Admiral Gerrit, the real person in charge, and he is....actually quite understanding of Seyka's actions. He gives her a quick verbal slap on the wrist but proceeds to give her full permission to continue her search for her sister and their other missing people with the stolen focus on hand. He's humble enough to tell Aloy in a private conversation afterwards if you choose to talk to him that their faction of the expedition has been spread thin enough as it is and Seyka has already proven herself to be a valuable and skilled member. Enough so that he admits he’s become increasingly reliant on her regardless of only being a petty officer in title. This assessment is fair and kind. It’s more than I would have expected out of someone with such a high position among the Quen of all tribes. 

Seyka is given a huge safety net thanks to this swell guy. The compliance offers themselves can't do anything, and from what we see in the side quests, they are seemingly nothing more than a few school-yard bullies without any real authority to their position. They are annoying & petty at worst. All bark, no bite. As far as the rest of the Quen go, most individuals we come across seem either pretty cool or neutral with Seyka. It's not until later that we get any indication  there are some who are calling for her exile afterall, but we only know this because we hear it from Seyka instead of seeing it happen. People are talking, as they will, and she's furious about it. 

But really....the threat still isn't there. It never was. At least not to the extent I think we are supposed to believe it was. 

All things considered, Seyka was placed in a very privileged, advantageous position amongst those in her tribe. Along with the lack of visible threat, there is never any real tension shown minus a few grumblings expressed in the background when we first arrive in Fleet’s End. And despite how Aloy perceives her, Seyka isn’t exactly a black sheep here. Especially when you consider she never had any personal turmoil with the rest of her tribe until not long before the events of Burning Shores and happily tells you herself she has always felt like she’s belonged. She's pretty much allowed to do what she wants without much pushback, and I found myself rolling my eyes during the final scene where she says she's unsure of where she stands with her tribe. Seyka is not an outcast, and I, for one, was never convinced or afraid she was at real risk of becoming one. 

Which makes this all the more confusing when Aloy says she's an inspiration. An outcast in all but name. I'm willing to chalk some of this up to hormones talking and Aloy's growing infatuation taking a choke hold as most first time crushes will do. Except the problem here is that the writing clearly felt like we were meant to connect Seyka's strife with Aloy's on some level; carry the same sympathy for her that Aloy expresses, and see more of where their similarities hold up. 

And yet...

I felt more for Kotallo who was kicked from his initial clan because his leader saw him as a threat and then later, might as well have gotten demoted for losing an arm because his tribe sees him as near useless for it..

And Zo who lives among the most pacifist, peace-loving tribe and was admonished when she not only went to fight back in the Red Raids, but wanted to do something about the blight and their broken Land Gods..

And Talanah who had to fight against blatant sexism that many carry in her tribe and an actual attempt for her murder all because she wanted to move up in the Lodge and make things better..

And Aloy, herself, who was outcast at birth for simply being born without a mother. And spent her entire life with only the man who raised her for company. In one small valley. For 19 years. Because there was no choice for her. 

But somehow, we're supposed to see Seyka the same way Aloy does? Like no one she's ever met??

I...Really? 

I'm sorry, but I don't buy this rebel fighter, near-outcast ploy here. And saying she's unlike anyone Aloy has ever met feels like a slap in the face to not only Aloy, herself, but to some of her companions we have come to know & love in the first two games. Most of whom I'd argue have been through more hell because of their own tribes long before they even met her. Seyka's plight is trivial, inconsequential in comparison and no where near as crippling as Aloy's was or her friends. It's honestly frustrating that it feels suggested it is. 

What's worse is that this plotline is used as one big narrative tool to bring Seyka and Aloy closer on standing grounds outside of ability and personality. This essentially means Seyka and her entire character arc were written for the sole purpose of the romance. A character built for Aloy to quickly fall head over heels for and add progress in her own arc. I wrote last time that I can see this growth as an opportunity to explore romance further for Aloy with a pre-established character or two in H3. If I’m right & that happens to be the heart-wrenching, long-term, master plan Guerilla is going for, they have my applause (and my stress). Great for Aloy. In my opinion though, being created to be a love interest (lasting or not) for the main hero is a bit unfair to Seyka. 

She's clever, she's badass, and she isn't afraid to take action without permission and help where she can. Next to Aloy, however, she stands as a self-reflection of her. A spotless mirror as to who Aloy could have been had she grown up under a community as well. I would love to see Seyka break out on her own as an individual character that isn't in the context of romance if ever given the opportunity. 

Heck, if Guerilla wanted to in the eventuality they will be finished with Aloy's story, the Quen have easy potential to have an entire spinoff game revolved around them. We have a whole side quest in BS where a small group of Quen want to sneak focuses to non-diviners for the sake of knowing what's usually kept hidden from them. Hello, is that the beginnings of a rebellion, I see? And the world of Horizon has yet to be explored in places outside of the North American continent. Other tribes, different machines, more Old World locations, etc. Loads of potential everywhere. And guess what!? We practically have a budding main character on a silver platter: Seyka! She obviously has big enough main character energy. Might as well utilize it outside of a DLC if you can, and I don't mean for the next game. 

It's hard say for sure whether or not Seyka will remain a DLC character. No matter what fans say, the ending was left ambiguous. Not only because of the romance but also where Seyka's future lies. She knows about Nemesis, yet she tells Aloy she's unsure of what she wants to do after her faction reunites with the other half in San Francisco, whether it's going home or something else. I would think if Guerilla had solid plans to include her in H3 while they were developing Burning Shores, they would have written the ending where she either offers to stay behind in Legacy’s Landfall for a time like Alva does or Aloy asks for her aid to help fight against Nemesis. Something to make it more clear she's here to stay. We don't though, so as far as anyone outside of Guerilla is currently aware, Seyka is not guaranteed to play a big part in H3 if any at all. And remember, DLCs are meant to be an extension of the main game and are primarily optional. They are typically not a requirement for playing the next big installment as far as understanding the story goes. 

If she does show up in H3, the only thing I dread is the idea of her coming up and saying she's basically denounced her tribe because she still feels out of place and doesn't think she can belong afterall. Not to mention she has her sister, and after what happened with Kina, it would be a really bad look if she just decided to permanently leave her behind when her tribe isn't or never was trying that hard to push her away in the first place. And Seyka said it herself. She’s “not some weak-kneed sailor who abandons ship when the seas get rough,” and I’d like to believe she means it. It'd be one thing if she actually is forced into exile, but after the events of the DLC, she has too good of a repertoire for that to happen now. At least while she's outside of Quen homelands. 

(Btw, don't even get me started on Aloy's convo with Kina over "remember Seyka's been through a lot too" as if we didn't just rescue this poor girl from A CULT and nearly groomed into becoming this centuries-old dude's image of his dead wife. Like honey, I know you're in love but have some thought & tact here.) 

That’s about it. I will reiterate that as a character, I do actually like Seyka. As a self-imposed outcast? No. As Aloy’s love interest? That…needs some serious work. But as an individual who loves her tribe but will fight for what she believes in even if it means going against the royal, societal grain? Absolutely! And special kudos to Kylie Liya Page for bringing her to life. 

Also, if you want to read a review that summarizes everything I just ranted about better than I could manage, along with everything good and not-so-great when it comes to the DLC, I recommend this essay here by ariseis. 

If you made it to the end of this long rant, thanks for reading~ 

[noahhawthorneauthor]

I pick out an extra box of pastries to bring back to the castle, loading up with enough baked goods to clear the case. Quentin handles the drink carriers and before we leave, my attention catches on Helena.

“By chance, do you know where Gleason went? Or, when Thatch will be back? I suppose he’d be the one to talk to about the apartments.”

“Oh? Gleason’s just outside, but Thatch is—” Helena’s iridescent eyes flash to Rhea snorting, then down to the dishwasher digging around in the pastry case, hood pulled down around their face as they struggle to pull out the empty trays. “Boss, really?”

The person stands and my heart palpitates in response to my magick’s upcoming symphony. Waves of tightly coiled copper flow from beneath his hood, covering one of his striking oceanic eyes. His mouth’s stuffed full of scone, and mocha icing dots his nose.

I bite my cheek in attempts to reel in my magick, a few heads turn in response to the mark on my face glowing brighter than a fucking neon sign.

Hello, witches. And no, it’s not him. He’s not my person, so stop looking between us with those smug grins.

“Oh, hello again,” he says over attempts to choke down his food. “You guys missed one.” He points to his reddened cheeks full of scone.

“Oh! You already know each other? Why were you hiding then, boss?” Helena asks, and the questions in Quentin’s eyes multiply. I rub the back of my neck in anticipation.

“No, he just—I just, we ran each other last night." Thatch gestures between us hastily with icing covered fingers, curls bouncing. His eyes linger on mine for a second, but he otherwise avoids looking directly at me. “I did not feel the need to bother you again.”

His gaze hardly falls on Quentin, but Quen can’t stop staring at the man with a smile brighter than the sun. Wait.

Wait. Thatch.

Thatch Phantom.

Oh, shit.

🍁📚☕🏳️‍🌈

Welcome to Thitwhistle's! Nevermind the witch and immortal, they're just having a moment.

All of the above art except for Thatch waving is by @gagakumadraws

Thatch by trxxvon_ on IG.

Cover art by @crossroadart-seabear

You can find Phantom and Rook here.

[a3s1rxx]

Don’t Forgive, Never Forget

A Spot fanfic. Basic premise is that Johnathon Ohnn is in the MCU as the Spot. It’s a technical Spotsterio romance but whatever. Also my personal headcanon is The Spot is transfem and goes by Jonathyn so. She/Her is used.

Plot Synopsis: The Spot finds out Mysterio died (CW: Angst, Mention of character death?, Spotsterio content [If you don’t like it don’t read it], Self loathing, it’s just sad, drinking? I’m not sure if it’s alcoholism or not)

It had been years since the incident. Jonathyn sat in the bathroom of her small one bedroom apartment, looking at the spotted skin along her arms and body. She ran her fingers through the small fuzz of hair on her head that had begun to grow. The color was the same as her chalk white skin.

Even though a long time had passed, she still hated this new body she had. Her jet black hands ran along the skin of her thighs, dodging the dark matter that created the spotted pattern all over.

She stood up and looked in the mirror, hands tracing over her cheeks. Her face was a black void, the only trace of of it were two eyes, as white as her skin, staring back at her.

After a long time of silent staring, she walked out the bathroom and to her small bedroom, throwing on a hoodie and some sweatpants in case she decided to go out that day. She walked to the kitchen and poured herself some cereal. After rummaging through the fridge, she got a bottle of Corona and set it on the counter next to the cereal.

Eventually she found herself sitting on the couch and watching TV, while also eating cereal and drinking beer. As she mindlessly watched the news and ate, her mind began to wander to her life way before this. Before the Kingpin, before the incident, before all of this. Back to her MIT days where she roomed with none other than Quentin Beck.

They were great friends, hitting it off as soon as Jonathyn had moved into the dorm. Socially though, they were complete opposites. Quentin’s notoriously large ego, Jonathyn’s inability to socialize. Quentin’s want to pursue visual effects and VFX, Jonathyn’s want to pursue science and researching technology. After classes they’d drink together and just relax in each other’s company. Everyone on campus would call them inseparable. That was until graduation. Quentin went on to work for Tony Stark, another MIT grad. Jonathyn went on to work for Wilson Fisk, better known as the Kingpin. And then slowly they drifted, until they never talked again.

Jonathyn found herself thinking about Quentin and how much she missed him. Ever since MIT she had strong feelings toward him but never said a word at risk of their friendship.

She picked up her phone and began to go through it. She stopped at Quentin’s number, thinking long and hard about actually attempting to contact him. It had been years. They hadn’t really talked since her incident. She stared at the number on the screen. With a nervous exhale she pressed the number, calling the one and only, Quentin Beck.

The dial tone sounded through the phone. After about two minutes, she was about to hang up thinking it was a mistake, until the dial tone stopped.

“Hello?” A familiar voice spoke on the other end of the phone. She cleared her throat, a familiar but warm nervousness returning. A feeling from oh so long ago.

“Um, hey Quen!” She smiled (metaphorically) to herself, taking a sip of her beer.

“Hey Johnny.” Quentin chuckled and seemingly took a sip of some drink, as the sound of him swallowing came over the phone. “It’s been a while.”

“It really has, hasn’t it.” Jonathyn laughed a little and bit down on her thumb a little. “How’s working with Stark?”

Quentin groaned at the name Stark, the resentment still not leaving his body.

“I’ve moved on. I work for myself now.”

“Oh wow. I’m happy for you! I know you always wanted to have your own thing going.”

“Yeah yeah. What about you? How’s researching coming along?”

“It’s, uh, doing well yeah.” Jonathyn coughed awkwardly. After a small pause she spoke again. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up to catch up sometime.”

“Mhm, that sounds great but I’m in Prague right now-“

“Oh that’s fine! I could make it there tomorrow.” Jonathyn said quickly, almost a little too eagerly.

“Here what about this, I’ll be in London tomorrow, meet me there okay? I have some stuff I want to show you. I’ll meet you on the Tower Bridge.” Quentin spoke, setting his drink on the table.

“Yeah that works, uh, what time?”

“6:00 PM”

“Okay. I’ll be there. Oh yeah! I look really different since we last saw each other.”

“It’s okay. No matter how you look, I’ll always be able to figure out it’s you.” Quentin hung up. Jonathyn set her phone down and hopped up and down.

After her own personal celebration, she grabbed her phone and headed out the door to get gifts for her dear friend. She spent the rest of the day traveling from store to store, buying little trinkets and a box of chocolates. After that she went home and put everything in a small gift bag.

***

The next day, Jonathyn spent every waking moment thinking about the Tower Bridge and meeting Quentin again. She wondered what he looked like since the last she saw him. She paced around endlessly wondering what to say and what he could have that he wanted to show her. Endless thoughts came and left her buzzing mind. Then 6:00 PM came along.

She opened up a spot portal and walked through it, ending up right on the London bridge. Instead of Quentin being there, Guterman was there. He stood with a somber look on his face and Quentin’s phone in his hand.

“Hi.” Jonathyn approached him, if her face had an expression it would be confusion.

“You must be Jonathyn.” Guterman bowed his head as a hello. “Quentin left this for you. He’d like you to read it.” He held out the phone.

Jonathyn took it with a thanks and unlocked it. The phone opened up to a message written in his notes.

“Johnny, I don’t think I’m going to make it to our meeting today. I am so so sorry. I sent a colleague to talk to you, his name is Guterman. He will explain everything, I promise. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

Jonathyn handed the phone back.

“Quentin died this afternoon on this bridge.” Guterman spoke. Jonathyn froze, she didn’t even dare breathe.

“If this is Quen’s form of a joke.. it’s not funny.” She could barely speak, her voice coming out almost as a whisper.

“It’s not a joke.” Guterman responded. Jonathyn shook her head. Guterman started to explain everything that led up to this. Starting from Tony firing Quentin, to the master plan, the elementals, the made up story, and then the fall of it all. All Jonathyn could do was listen. Her blood ran cold. Tears threatened to overflow from her eyes.

“Oh….” Is all she could muster, voice cracking.

“The funeral will happen a week from now, in his hometown. He asked for you to be there.”

“Y-yeah ill, uh.” She bit back tears. “I’ll be there yeah.” She nodded and turned to leave. Her legs and hands trembled, almost as if this emotional weight was a real one, slowly crushing her into the floor beneath her. Without another word, she opened a portal and stepped through it, back to her small one bedroom apartment.

As soon as she set food into her bedroom, she fell to the floor. Knees harshly slamming onto the wood, followed by the side of her body, then her head. She wailed and cried, head in her hands and nails digging into skin. If anyone heard it, they would swear someone was being murdered. There was a heavy sorrow contained in each tear that fell from her face. Every scream contained a pain that couldn’t be measured on any kind of scale.

She laid there and cried for days until her vocal cords ran weak and couldn’t produce any sound. Her eyes were sore and her head ached with fatigue.

The next few days she lived like a ghost. She barely ate. She didn’t leave the apartment. She just laid in bed, staring off at the walls. She’d texted Quentin’s number over and over, with a false hope that he’d respond. She’d call him, leaving voicemail after voicemail with some fantasy that he’d respond and say this was all a joke.

The morning of the funeral was the same morning that the fake news story about Quentin’s death was released. Jonathyn sat watching the news, a blank expression in her eyes.

The funeral was a private funeral. Only the team and Jonathyn was invited. It started open casket.

Jonathyn, once at the venue, walked over to the casket and looked in. The mortician that was hired had to be a good one. Quentin lay there, looking peacefully asleep. Jonathyn reached in and gently touched his face, as she was afraid she’d wake him. She leaned in and left a small kiss on his forehead.

“I wish we met under better circumstances.” She spoke, letting out a small somber chuckle. She stood back up and sighed before taking her seat with the other people.

The funeral went rather quickly. Jonathyn never spoke on the podium, to do so would cause all the pain to flood back. Soon Quentin’s casket was lowered into the ground. The team left one by one after leaving small flowers on his tombstone. Jonathyn stayed behind. She sat down on the grass, next to the stone.

“Hey Quen…” she spoke. Staring off into the distance while talking. “I’m gonna miss you a lot you know that?” She exhaled, tears threatening to spill once more. “There was so much I wanted to say to you… um….” She leaned her head up against the gravestone. “I have spots all over now. They’re like little portals. I can still eat and stuff though. Also I, uh, love you.” She began to fiddle with her hands. “And not in like a friendly way. I wanted to marry you one day but I guess I can’t do that now, huh. And I, uh, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you….” Her voice wavered. “I should’ve been there.” The tears began to fall again. Her hands wrapped around her arms and her nails dug into her skin, drawing blood from minor cuts. “But it’s okay… I’ll avenge you, alright.” She mumbled between sobs. “I’ll kill that stupid spider boy.” Deluded anger fuzzed her brain. She was irrational. Angry. Full of hate and sorrow. “I’ll kill him for you.”

I didn’t edit this at all.

[fartquen12]

Hey quen😊😊💕💕

can uf do zhongchi fic where childe is preg🥺🥺 and they raise thw stinky bwabby🥺🥺💕💕 thxx!.!

Omg yes bestie. Also since I am literally being such a bwimbwo whwore and want to stwab mwuself bc of a man (thats not very bwimbwo whore of me) This is a great idea.

Also next time pls put poop in the request and Also I only do y/n related stories so ya shes going to be in here.

UNFAIR RANK DIAPY WIPEY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Fart, Poop, Birth, Sea section, Unatural birth, dookie, Fat babies, dirhea, Nsfw??, Will defenitly offend you if your a mini kyle.

It was 10:30 pm and I (y/n) had woken up to this shitty sound. It was like really loud. When I realised thats childe creaming- SCREAMING. I got up quickly and ran to the bathroom he was in! "Childe what- whats wrong a-are you okay!?" I exclaimed "AY GET THO FUCK OUT IM TAKIN A SHITAAA!!!" childe screamed back at me "FUCK OKAY ASSHOLE!" I replied slamming the door after. I was so pissed when I felt a rock hard di- hand touch my arm "whats wrong baby?" I heard a deep im taking a shit pooping sounding voice say. "oh 'ts nothin' just childe being a bitc-" I stopped when I heard "THERES A HEAD THERES A HEAD OUT MY ASSSSSS!" come from the bathroom. Me and zhongli ran into the bathroom and childe was standing with his asshole in the mirror and a small head covered in shit coming out his ass. Without saying anything zhongli ran to the car and forced childe and me into it. I had to sit in the back and childe was in the passanger seat zhongli driving. "THE BABYS COMING!" childe screached "YES BITCH I KNOW!!!" zhongli said angrily. I felt left out so I put on my headphones and turned on "taco fart song sped up 10 hours" On my switch lite. 5 minutes later we were at the hospital and i took off my headphones and me and zhongli and childe ran inside. Once we were inside zhongli told me to stay while childe and him went to the room. I felt left out again. So I decided to get a little risky with the patients in the large room I was in. I saw a strange man with blue hair and a huge shitty looking hat. I walked up to him and sat down next to him. "where ya from cutie." I said and I winked at him. "your moms ass." the cruel man said. "excuse me." I said. "haha just kiddin' im just pulling your leg IM from russia!" He said. I thought to myself man this guys cringe. I decided he was short and shitty for me. I looked over and saw the buffest hottest dude I have ever seen. I ran over to him and sat on his lap. "Damn baby lets go somewhere else." He said. Me and this man went to an empty surgery room. We started kissing. Shit. I farted. He looked at me. Laughed. And then we started kissing again. Then I heard the door open and while kissing this stranger I glanced over and saw a hobo looking man. "Hey butthole guye, Ive got the reports to your- OUHHHH PY AHA ADADADAY OH YA DADAY ISJDIUHSD ISUHIOOOHHOogOHOHOHUHOHUHOAOAAAHA!!!!" the man screamed- moaned? he ran away and the man I was kissing said "I need to go now, But call me my names kaeya, but you can call me- big daddy." The man left. I decided to go check on stupid ass childe. I looked through the door window since i wasnt allowed in. I saw childe holding a stinky ugly looking baby that looked like a noodle. childe told me to come in and say hi to our new baby. But i didnt want to. I was so disturbed at this rat ass looking childe I didnt know what to think, what to do, what to know. I stood there staring into its terrifying eyes for a while. Everything was gone except this strange childe. He seemed like a demon. "Hes...- terrifying.." I said. I placed a hand over my mouth as I slowly cried. "ACTUALLY ITS A GIRL." The nurse said. I screamed. I opened the door quickly ran through the hospital lobby and out the doors got in our car and left them there. I drove 5 states away.

10 years later...

I woke up to my alarm. I woke up my husband kaeya aswell. I walked downstairs and got started on breakfast. Kaeya gave me a kiss on the cheek and grabbed the keys to check our mailbox. I finished setting our food out at the table. Kaeya smiled when he saw the food. "Looks great thank you!" he said "Of course big daddy." I said. We ate breakfast silently and awkwardly. I went over to the mail he put on the counter and I saw a letter with my name. Y/n shitman. I opened it curiosly. It read, Dear Y/n Shitman, Due to the order of law you are five years passed on your payment, Your licesnse has been taken aswell as your toilet privlages and free yearly trip to england, Please come in contact with us soon. sincerly child department.

I was confused to what that was "whats that?" kaeya said "hmmm" I said in response. I saw another piece of paper in the envolope that read

Year one- $0.00

year two- $0.00

year three- $0.00

year four-$0.00

and it went all the way up to

year ten $0.00

I didnt understand until i saw in small print.

Hey y/n please pay for your goddamn poop riden child. We want 500 a month asshole. Child support please. sincerly childe and zhongli Shitman.

You paused. You dropped the letter to the floor and started tearing up. How could this trauma dump come back. You thought you would never have to hear from anything that had to do with that shit child again. when the paper fell it revealed the back of the paper which read.

You have 1 month to pay us 10k (btw we named her olivia and now we have another kid named topher)

"What- What the fuck is that!?" Kaeya said angrily.

"I-"

Part two???

[starcchild]

conflicted - ikau one-shot

"Hey, Carter, look at me."

She flinched as Quentin cupped her face with both hands, but his grip only tightened. Not enough for it to hurt, but enough for her to stay. Enough for her to turn her gaze back to his - to see a softness in his gaze she... still wasn't sure how to feel about. Even despite the way her heart seemed to skip a beat. Despite the way her stomach twisted.

Were those good feelings? Bad? She could never tell. But... she wanted to think they were good.

Though the way her stomach coiled as he ran his thumb across her cheek threatened to make her think twice if she let herself focus on it.

"You've got me," he reminded quietly. His gaze never wavering from hers. "The others clearly don't care, but I do. Screw the Avengers - you don't need them. You can still be Iron Man without 'em. I'm telling you, sweetheart, you can walk away. It could be you and me, you know. We could be heroes together. Wouldn't that be better?"

God, a part of Carter was tempted to agree. To leave the Avengers and strike it out with Quentin, or even just on her own. She could still be Iron Man - she didn't need to lose who she was by walking. Yet... there was a tightness in her chest that made her heart hurt. A panic that seemed to seep through her mind like ice - threatening to take hold if she so much as even entertained the idea further. As desperate as she was to leave the moniker behind... she couldn't. It was who she was, regardless of whether or not she wanted it. She was Iron Man. And...

She was an Avenger. Even if she didn't want to be. She couldn't just leave them like that, even if she could be replaced. Even if they didn't care.

And she'd be lying if she said there wasn't something about Quentin's insistence that made her nervous. Even if she did everything she could to ignore it. Because he meant well - he did. She... knew he did. He was just... intense. Focused on his goals. Determined to leave his mark on the world by doing good.

She needed to believe that he meant well--

"I--" Carter swallowed thickly, and let out a shaky breath as his thumb gently ran over her cheek once more. As he tilted her chin up. "It would be, but..."

His gaze darkened, and he stifled a sigh. "But you won't leave." His voice was quiet, but... colder. Heavy with disappointment. Though, even as he still held her face in his hands, his grip never tightened like she always expected. Never turned painful. "Carter--"

"I... I want to," she interrupted - her voice rising in a near-desperation for him to believe her. An apology burning in the back of her throat. "I... I do, but I can't... I can't just..." She inhaled sharply, and felt a funny sense of relief as Quentin's expression seemed to soften. "I- I can't... just lea-leave, Quen. It's- it's not--" Control it. "It's... not that simple. But if I-- If I could..."

He said nothing, and instead leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. But her heart only lodged in her throat, and she fought the urge to pull away from him. Unable to understand why she felt so conflicted when it came to his touch.

"You can," he murmured, "but alright. We can drop it for now. I just need you to know you're only hurting yourself by staying. They don't care about you, Carter, you've said that yourself." He went quiet for a moment, and he bumped his nose against hers. "You know I care about you, right?"

Do you? she wanted to ask, but held her tongue. Unsure if she should just kiss him to get him to drop it, or try - again - to get him to actually listen to her about why she struggled so much with the idea of leaving. But... "I know," she rasped. "I know you do, Quen. And I'm sorry, I just--"

With a quiet hush, Quentin kissed her, and it took everything in Carter not to recoil. To shove down the hurt as she closed her eyes and returned it slowly. To ignore how much she wanted this to be different. That he loved her the way she--

Did she even love him?

"You can stay with me tonight," he said quietly as he pulled away from her, though still cradled her face in his hands. "Give yourself time to think about it away from them. I could use your help anyway with this stupid program."

Carter ignored how her stomach twisted and her heart studdered, and gave a small nod in response. Unwilling to figure out how she felt about him. "Yeah. I... I can do that." It was easier to focus on work. Easier to distract herself that way. To ignore her conflictions as she gingerly pulled back out of his grasp. "Thank you, Quen."

He smiled, and she wasn't sure if it made her want to stay, or if she should--

"Anything to distract you, sweetheart."

Quentin's smile widened, and she decided then that the kind look in his eye was enough to make her want to stay. Enough for her to ignore how she still felt conflicted. To ignore the quiet worry in the back of her mind that he might be caring about her for all the wrong reasons. Because... he was the only one who cared. He was, and it was just her mind playing tricks and telling her otherwise. He was different. He was--

Carter forced a smile back, and followed him inside.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Hadestown

Chapter 16: The True Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice

How did they start? What did they do?

Where all good deals started.

Background information.

Truth.

From one of the shelves, he pulled free a number of books that he'd set aside earlier in the day, then walked over to where Orpheus sat and stacked them beside him one by one.

Greek Mythology, an Introduction.

Tales of the Ancients.

Poems of the Gods.

Georgics.

Metamorphoses.

Symposium.

Orpheus and Eurydice.

The Tale of Orpheus and Eurdice his Quene.

One by one, he let them stack onto each other with a loud thump. And one by one, he watched as the size of Orpheus's eyes grew.

"You asked if I'd read your tale. I have. It shows up quite a bit," he explained as Orpheus picked up Georgics. This version was in Latin, but he noted that after flipping through the pages, he finally arrived at Virgil's Book IV, "The Death of Eurydice," and stared at it. That told him something. Foolish he may have been, but he was educated. And if the tales were right, probably quite old.

"Truth is the most important, most essential piece to making a good deal. I've read all these tales, but each one is a little different. You say your love ended up here because she was bitten by a snake, but in one version, she makes a deal with Hades, and in another, she died dancing with Naiads on her wedding day. Some say you are reunited in hell others call it a trick of Hades. Some versions you live, other versions you die. But I need to know the truth. I need the true story to know precisely what I'm working with. Only then can I be truly of service to you."

Slowly Orpheus was turning Greek Mythology, an introduction over in his hand. He opened it, looked at a picture, and ran his fingers over it tenderly…he thought for a moment the boy might start to weep, but then he closed the book and took another in his hand. "These are all about us?"

"Stories," he corrected for emphasis. "Let's say they were inspired by you, but they don't tell the truth about you. I should know; you should see what's been written about me."

Orpheus swallowed again as he stacked the books, one on top of the other again. "So we start by-"

"You telling me the truth about who you are and what happened to lead us here."

"It's Persephone. It starts with her, not me," he explained. "Most know the story."

"I want to hear your version."

The boy nodded and reached for his lyre.

"Preferably without song and verse."

Orpheus paused, his lyre settled in his arms. "Sir, music is the only way I know to tell the story…"

He fought the urge to roll his eyes but recalled the flowers he'd seen earlier. He wondered if they'd grow here, in Belle's library. He wondered if they'd be roses. And so he nodded.

"Very well then. So long as it's the truth. Not riddle. Not metaphor. Truth."

The boy nodded, then looked at his lyre and began to pick out notes and chords. He began a gentle sway and rock in time with the music, a sway that he fought with all his might as the boy began to sing a few more of those "la's" he'd sung before, at the bus stop. Oh, he'd never been one for music, but even he could admit it was beautiful.

After a few bars, Orpheus looked back up at him.

"Once there was a girl who brought warmth and light to the world," Orpheus spoke to his amazement. "And in a field of daisies and bluebells, Hades first laid eyes on her, weaving the spring flowers into a crown for her hair. They say it only took that one look for Hades to fall in love with her. So he stole her from her world above and took her to his world below without questioning who she might have been, without realizing…

"Persephone was the daughter of a goddess. And when the goddess learned that her daughter had been kidnapped, she was angry. But being a lesser god to Hades, she was unable to rescue her daughter entirely. She appealed to his emotions, let him see her daughter cry, let him see her cry. Hades could not endure it, so a deal was struck. Persephone would be in the land of the living, with her mother, for six months of the year and with Hades for the other six. For six months, the world would know light and warmth, it would know flowers and harvest. And for the other six, there would be cold and famine and darkness."

"She brings about the cycle of seasons on earth," he commented. That part of the tale he knew.

Orpheus nodded. And, as if he was happy that he'd figured it out, launched into another chorus allowing the music to crescendo in the dark room. It made his heart warm so much that he didn't hardly mind the theater of it at all.

"But there was a flaw in Hades' plan," Orpheus continued. "Persephone hated him. She missed her mother, missed the world above, and missed the spring. Hades tried harder. He allowed her to grow a garden, and allowed her to walk among the people. He believed that with time she'd come to love him, that he could make her love him."

He sighed in sympathy as the boy's music turned sour. He'd never known a woman to respond well to being made to love someone, especially when she despised them already.

"So, Hades began to ignore the subtleties of his own deal, knowing that he was stronger than both Persephone and her mother. Each year he came earlier and earlier. And each year, he kept her later and later, always thinking that just one more day might make all the difference. And so, the Winters grew longer and harsher and wilder in her absence."

Amid the sour, a new chord was struck, one that stood out vibrantly and beautifully against the ugly.

"That was the world Eurydice was born into. When we met, she was just a poor girl looking for a flame to light her candle and keep warm by."

"And you gave her a spark."

"Oh, but she gave me the spark!" Orpheus corrected with a loud strum of joy that even made him smirk. "My mother was a muse, and I've always been touched by song. My father gave me this lyre, and Hermes would tell me that one day I would have the power to bring Spring again if only I could finish my song and with Eurydice…I could.

"Singing 'la la la la la la la la la la…"

The occasional sporadic chorus he sang had begun to no longer bother him. He was coming to find that it meant something. He just wasn't quite sure what. And meanwhile, at his feet, with each syllable…a rose.

His breath caught as he realized…

"Oh, Eurydice and I spend the harshest days of winter holed up in our little shack. She'd stir the stew, and I'd work on my lyre; I'd write my song! But then…"

Another sharp, harsh chord.

"On one of the rare spring days we had…"

And then another.

"We ventured out into the world to pick berries for our supper, to fill our bellies full!"

A feast for a starving artist and his wife.

A chord of sorrow to warn him of the dark future that lay ahead.

"And there was a gasp. And a scream. And I went running back to Eurydice's side…"

The boy splayed his hands over the strings. The music stopped.

"But it was too late. She was dead. The venom that killed her still seeping from her body."

There was silence. A pregnant pause where he knew that years ago, he would have pushed the boy to continue, to say more and not waste his time. But in the quiet, the notes seemed to linger, demanding their silence. Even the roses continued to bloom. Oh, how he wanted to take one back for his Belle.

"Singing la la la la la la la la la la…" the boy sang through tears he wept. A mourning song like he'd never heard before.

"Singing la la la la la la la la la la…"

And then the lyre. The notes punctuated the silence they'd been sitting in. He clung to them, sad and weak as they seemed.

"I was devastated," Orpheus went on. "I spoke with my family, with every god I knew, with Hermes and even my mother, and together we found a sorcerer who offered hope. He opened a portal with the blood from his hand. He called the ferryman to him. No way back could he promise, but a way to Eurydice was clear. And so I placed my bets, I hugged my mother, I embraced my godfather. And then I left the world of above behind and came to this world below.

"I searched and searched until I found Eurydice. We thought we had a plan, we thought we could so easily come back. But we failed. Hades discovered us, and when he asked us for one good reason why he shouldn't kill us, I offered him all that I owned, the only thing that ever had any value, the only thing that I knew!"

"A song…"

"Yes, Sir…"

In confirmation, the boy struck up his chorus once more as tears fell from his eyes, and he realized that it was the boy's tears that watered the ground and made the flowers bloom.

"I had finished the song, you see, just before Eurydice died. And I played it for Hades and his would-be bride. I played it. And Persephone danced, and Hades cried. And when I was done, the King of the Underworld was but a man in love with a woman, who was so moved she made one request. She begged, and she pleaded that Hades would give Eurydice back to me. That she would live, that I would sing. Once again in a land of sun and spring, we would dwell together forever after.

"But Hades was a proud man. He was willing to gift his love anything but to release the dead from his Kingdom…he could not.

"So, he struck a deal instead…

"Singing la la la la la la la la la la…"

Oh, it was a powerful chorus. The urge to join in, to lift his voice in song, was strong. He suspected, if not for the darkness within him, he'd have done just that. Instead, he listened to the soft sad notes and didn't bother to hide his tears.

"Persephone gave us some ambrosia, the fruit of the gods, she'd grown it from the garden Hades permitted her. It would allow Eurydice to walk in the light once again. Once we reached the world above, I'd have to feed it to her, and she would have lived again.

"Hades gave me a map, a back way out of a land of the dead. He told me that we could go, but not hand in hand. Her future in the world above would be up to me, not him. For Eurydice would walk behind, and should I look back to see if she was there, if she uttered a word or made a sound before we were both in the land of the living, then she'd return to the ground."

The chords he played intensified. They grew louder and fuller and more adventurous.

"And so we departed, with the fruit in my pocket, with her behind and naught but a song in my head…"

"Singing la la la la la la la la la la…

"Singing la la la la la la la la la la…"

He'd sensed it coming before it came that time. Just as he already sensed the ending before the chords dulled to single notes, single heartbeats, dark and low.

"For days, we walked. We walked for days through the darkness. I never slept. I never ate. All I had was my lyre and my canteen, which had long since gone empty. But onward we trekked, onward we walked over mountains, through valleys, over plains we walked. And the doubt crept in. The doubt grew strong; with every step, every move, every breath, it grew. What had I to offer Eurydice? We were poor! My song had been sung, and the seasons were righted, but what was my purpose now? Why would she ever want to come back with me? A poor songbird with no more songs to sing…"

The music halted abruptly. The boy slumped his shoulders down, and suddenly…suddenly, the spell was broken. Orpheus wept before him, he watered the roses at his feet, and for him, the world came back into focus as he realized…

"You looked," he assumed.

"No," Orpheus insisted. "No, sir, I was good. I kept my eyes straight until I had crossed the threshold between that world and this. And that's when I turned back, to catch her body, to feed her the ambrosia, and that's when I saw…I saw…I had crossed over…"

He sighed as he realized the problem, as he suddenly understood the fucking technicality that Hades had built into the deal that destroyed the kids.

He wasn't to look back, and she wasn't to make a noise until they had both crossed the threshold.

"You crossed over. But she hadn't…"

"Singing…la…la la la…la la la la…la la…"

The broken chorus issued from his mouth in a tragic confirmation that seemed far worse than any tale he'd ever been told about the pair. It made the relief that came when he started picking at notes again almost painful.

"Hades reclaimed Eurydice. I went on. But I couldn't live. Hermes and I tracked down the sorcerer who had helped me last time. He was astonished I'd made it out and couldn't imagine why I wanted to go back. But Sir…any realm Eurydice is in, that's the realm I need to be in…

"He was so moved by my tale that he confided in me that only those who had been to the land of the dead and returned could open the portal. I only needed a body of water and the blood in my veins to summon the ferryman."

There was something worth noting.

"So, you opened the portal yourself this time."

"And I've been here ever since, the living walking among the dead."

"Singing la la la la la la la la la la…"

The lyre reached a tonic, one that told him the song was done, the story was told. It was a beautiful story, even in its tragedy…but not done. Not if he had anything to say about it.

"What of Persephone?" he asked as Orpheus's fingers fell from the strings. "She helped you last time?"

"Persephone is gone," he informed him as he moved his lyre back around to his back. "They're relationship was always a disaster, built on sand. The joy they found in each other lasted for years, but eventually she grew cold and distant all over again. One Spring, when Hades released her, she went into hiding in the world above and hasn't been seen since. They say not even her mother knows where she is."

"How is that possible? Hades never looked for her?"

"He looked, but…" Orpheus sighed. "Persephone had already gone away by the time I returned here. Being born of a goddess gives her some abilities to resist summonings but none that would resist Hades. The story goes that my mother sent one of her sisters, who was well versed in alchemy and science, to help her."

"You're saying Persephone uses magic to keep herself hidden."

Orpheus nodded. "She's been in the land of the living ever since my mother sent her sister."

The goddess of Spring eternally in the land of the living…well, that was certainly one way of explaining global warming. But if Orpheus's mother had sent the help that Persephone needed…that explained something else as well.

"Let me guess, it's after this that Hades started to keep Eurydice under lock and key."

"Yes. She escapes sometimes. She comes out and finds me, but he always finds her. It's a game they play, a game we play. And it never lasts for long enough. How did you guess?"

"Well, it's obvious. Muses don't have children all that often; a child of one would be a child of them all. He doesn't keep her because he's angry you bested him or because the deal fell through. It's revenge. Revenge on you is revenge on your mother and all the muses who help to hide his True Love."

"No, not his True Love, not anymore. Now it's just his pride that's damaged. There's another that he calls his True Love."

"Another love? Another more important than Persephone?"

"Another lost love or scorned love. It depends on who you ask down here.

"See…Hades searched for Persephone. He's looked far and wide for her almost as long as I've been trying to free Eurydice. But many years ago, Hades went to another world, another realm that he thought he'd tracked Persephone to, but while he was there, he met another woman, a witch, some say. He fell in love with her."

"A witch…who? Which realm?"

"No one knows, Sir. There are too many rumors about it to separate fact from fiction. The only way you'd find out is by talking to Hades or talking to her, and he won't say who she is. But it doesn't matter much, really. She either rejected him or hid herself or ran away…that was when the Underworld changed into all of this." Orpheus held his arms up as if to indicate the library.

"It looked nothing like this before. It was mostly bare fields and hutches and tents. Now it's all buildings and streets and black tar. They say he did it for her, but no one really knows why."

He sighed. Heavily. Deals worked better when secrets were known. But Hades was a master dealmaker as well, and he knew this. That was probably why he kept his personal life close to his chest. To fashion a world like Storybrooke, he could take a couple of guesses at who his True Love could be. Obviously, it was a witch from the Enchanted Forest who had gone to Storybrooke. There were only a few candidates of witches there strong enough to fight off Hades. But he wasn't about to go guessing at a time like this, and truly, he didn't think he needed to. He had what he needed to broker this deal. Mostly…

"And the Ambrosia?"

"Hades burned Persephone's Garden when she left."

Of course, he had.

"There's a rumor that the ambrosia tree and a few others are still around, that because they were of the gods, they couldn't be destroyed, so he hid them away, but it's nothing more than rumors."

No surprise there. Everything here in relation to Hades seemed to be "nothing more than rumors." But the lack of concern in the boy's voice, mixed with what he'd already told him…

"But that doesn't matter, because you still have some, don't you."

Orpheus stared at him. It was the longest he'd ever made eye contact with him, and that was damning enough without the swallow he gave. But then Orpheus shifted his weight, he placed his hand within his pocket and pulled out…

It looked like a giant raspberry. Nothing like either a pomegranate or an apple, as so many would have said. It was about the size of a nectarine and reddish pink. It looked as though it had been plucked minutes ago.

"Ambrosia is the fruit of the gods. My mother used to speak of my father giving her some, it's what she says gives me my life. It never rots or loses its power. Hermes used to say that it only grows stronger with age. I never got to feed the one Persephone gave me to Eurydice, so I've been saving it, hoping for the day I might be able to give it to her."

Now…now he knew everything.

[ducknotinarow]

(( sorry no replies today, I had something going on last night that kind of interfered with me writing and still wasn't all to in it this morning. Instead I'm gonna jjst work on a couple of things so to get my queue filled again. Apologies in advance its been a heck if week for me.))

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

How about commanding Diavolo to cum during a royal meeting 👀👉

Ordering Diavolo to cum during a meeting

You were bored sitting through the meeting, Diavolo had insisted you stay with him because it would make it more fun. That was three hours ago and your falling asleep listening to the statistics, and all around things you’ve already heard.

Diavolo gently nudged you when he noticed you were drifting off and tried to cheer you up with a kiss, but as he was pulling away you grinned. “Dia,” You purred, instantly getting his full attention. “Cum.” You ordered.

He stiffened and let out a low growl, you had to stifle your laughter when you noticed everyone was looking at him. He tried to regain his composure, but there was obviously a light blush on his cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry about that, I had something caught in my throat.” He quickly tried to defend, most of the demons seemed to understand and continued on like it was nothing. You grinned and played a hand on Diavolo’s inner thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He was lucky the desk was hiding the wet spot on the seat of his pants, you ran your hands over it and gently applied pressure. “Cum.” You ordered again.

He tensed up and but his lip to suppress the moan in his throat, though his head fell forward and he almost smacked face first into the desk. You quen fly laughed, you could feel his cock twitching under your hand!

You heard footsteps behind you and you paused, looking back. “(Y/n), may I speak to you in private?” It was Barbatos…looks like you’ve been caught…

[iridescent-king]

I DON’T GET WHAT’S CONFUSING ALL OF YOU, THEY’RE SORTED USING ALPHANUMERICS.

{A meta explanation of Herman’s naming conventions under the cut!}

OK SO This is probably the most asked question I’ve had on the blog and the reason why I put it off for so long is cuz it’s kind of complicated. Some of them have reasons and some I just pulled out of my ass LMAO For example, I made Feng Min’s # x11 because 1′s and x’s are common in gamer tags. Makes sense, right? 

I made David b88 because b is Brooklyn and he’s... British? I deadass was gonna make it b99 but thats a fucking TV show, so I made it 88. WHUPS now it sounds like bb-8 the star war orb. FUCK.  Dwight, d43 because it rhymes.

Claudette, k35 K for Knowledge like botany knowledge, and 35 cuz I think I headcanoned her being that old for a while??

Nea, m94 m for Mashtyx, 94 cuz I headcanon that as her birth year

Jake was e17 and I think at one point there was a reason? E for escape maybe? 17 is how old I imagined him being when he ran away lol. Meg, a14, A for Athlete, 14 cuz her it’s the number on her jersey

Laurie, L76, L for Laurie obvs and 76 cuz I mistakenly thought that was the year Halloween came out and now it’s too late to change it. Maybe she reminds me of Solider 76 from Ogrewatch?

Ace, f69, fucker sixty-nine

Tapp, 911, HES A COP anon caught me

Quentin, z21, again anon caught me Z is cuz hes sleepy and 21 was from the drama i remember erupting about ppl shipping Quen since in the movie he was a highschooler but then the devs went and confirmed hes 21 now

Jane, 411, cuz shes a talkshow host and she’s here to give you the four-one-one, dawg

Adam, j42, deadass cant remember why i called him that. Maybe J for japan?? cuz he came in with Rin?

Kate, c06, she kinda makes me think of a cowgirl so I think I named her this cuz of the Hillbilly’s cattle tags?

Jeff, t66, can’t remember where I got the T from, but 66 is almost 666 Zarina is s80 for super 8 millimeter film aaaand Yui is r66 because Route 66 and shes a motor cycle babe. 

Phew. if I missed anyone they’re either too new for me to care about OR they Have a special name, like Bill, Ash or the Stranger things kids.  Their tags are pills here, what now?, and strange kids.

OH ALSO don’t tell anyone but I totally stole the patient letter/number idea from @yautjaskitten like a million years ago, she did it first I just copied her.😂

[jxdedfeelings]

Keep Your Friends Close; Keep Your Enemies Closer. - Quentin Beck x Reader

summary: this is literally just a drabble about quentin beck and you in an alley.

warnings: violence, guns, knives, 18+ DO NOT INTERACT

word count: 575 (omg that's pitiful)

gif credit: unknown (if you know please tell me!)

notes: this is like 2 years old but I decided never to post until now. if you have any requests or wanna drop a prompt then please feel free to. i will try to write more from now on. also if you wanna be added to my taglist let me know!

"Shut up, Y/N."

The two of you grappled, slamming one another against surface after surface. A groan echoed out when a back thudded against brick layering. The impact enough to have his pistol clink with his holster being jostled in the process.

"Quentin, if they find out what we're doing-"

"They won't." His words had cut in, sharp like the blade tucked beneath his leather jacket. You could just make out a glimpse of the weapon as he moved you around with violent ease. Before you could protest, lips crashed against yours and a muffle slipped out. Ardour drowned by the fighting not more than a few metres away.

The opposition, the leader, drew back and brimmed with a cocky grin as he caught onto your expression of startled bewilderment. "Besides if they do..." The sheen of the knife flickered across, startling you purposefully. Pupils trembled when his bite of steel threatened you. "It'll just be a statement of how far I'm willing to go." A jab met your left ear and you flinched when Quentin drove the weapon into a groove, lodging what could have been the fatal blow destined for you in the process.

"Your pretty sounds won't be heard anyway, not when my men are distracting your... troupe." A wider smile sprouted across, splitting his face as it spread from ear-to-ear.

"They aren't-"

Another thud rung out and your brief cry followed. "Don't think I won't kill you right now, Y/N. If it weren't for finding a use for you, you'd be dead where you stand." That brought a shiver to you, running up your spine, rattling each individual vertebrae.

"Understood?"

Silence answered. Quentin fixed that with another smash.

"Understood?"

You nodded, albeit disgruntled. A fist collided, striking your jaw, leaving you to wince from the blooming agony.

Emphasised once again, Quentin enunciated each syllable as if they were individual darts, tips lined with some deadly poison.

"Under-" His jaw shifted and you spat to the side. "...stood."

"Good." Both hands gripped at your shirt collar, pushing past the leather material of your bloodied jacket. "Nice to know I'm the only one who can disarm you." Fingers teased the band, tucked under and tugged at your shirt. The material thin enough to rip by his broad hands. Thumbs began to glide upwards, paving the flesh around the column of your throat. "I've gotta admit, seeing you behind the trigger is quite amusing. Sometimes I send my men just to see your bullet fly. To watch you split their skulls. You've always held back on me, haven't you, honey?"

A gulp formed your response. To make his point that much clearer, Quentin slipped his hand past your side, where he easily grasped your love handles. He used it to his advantage, eagerly taking it as an opportunity to press his body flush against his enemy. His leg slid between, parting your own malleable limbs. You'll deny it if anyone asked, but the evidence is clear as day. You spread of your own accord, inviting your nemesis to take what was his.

What was always his.

"Quen-"

"No one's gonna know, Y/N." A stripe ran up the pillar of your neck, glistening as a line of saliva connected you two. "Just be a good girl for me." His pale hand slipped from the gun, trailing down to rest inches from your dripping core. "And sit back while I fuck you senselessly in this alley."

[flowercrown-bard]

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

word count: ~2k

content warnings: Animal death (griffin)

summary: Eskel waits for a griffin to show up when a brightly dressed bard shows up and tries to set the little goat that Eskel wanted to use as bait free

------

“It’s alright,“ Eskel said as soothingly as he could. “You’re going to be safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

A mellow bleat was the only reply he got and the tiny goat nudged Eskel’s chest with her head. Eskel smiled. He could feel the scars tugging at his lips, but it didn’t matter, not when his goat was the only one around to witness it.

Eskel secured the rope that would keep her from running away on a stake he had stuck in the earth, making sure the knot would stay in place. With one last pet or her head, Eskel stood up.

“I’m coming back for you,” he promised, before retreating into the shadows of some trees.

As soon as Eskel was out of sight, Lil’Bleater began living up to her name. Searching for Eskel and tugging at the rope, she let out a pitiful bleat.

If her scent hadn’t already been enough to attract the griffin’s attention, those sounds would do the job.

Eskel pressed fiddled with his crossbow, every muscle as tense as a bow string as he waited for the beast to arrive.

But instead of the unmistakable shriek of a griffin and the darkening of the sky as the beast flew before the sun, something far worse appeared that made Eskel’s heart drop like a rock.

It began with the sounds of snapping twigs and rocks being kicked, coming closer. Then, carefree singing joined in the distracting sounds.

A human.

Eskel couldn’t see them yet, but it was clear they had no intention of turning back.

What was a human doing here? Everyone in town knew that this field wasn’t safe. There was a reason why they had hired Eskel. No one dared come here anymore, not as long as there was a griffin attacking everything it could get its claws on.

And now there was a human – unsuspecting or just plain stupid and reckless – coming towards the griffin’s hunting place. Right where Eskel had set up bait to lure the griffin out.

For a brief moment Eskel contemplated leaving his hideout and telling the person to leave. But approaching lone travellers was never a good idea. Eskel knew what he looked like. He had no illusions of being received in a friendly way. If he told the person to leave they would likely run straight back to the town and probably tell some tale about how he had just barely escaped a witcher attacking him.

It wouldn’t be the first time of something like that happening to Eskel.  

So he stayed hidden, praying that the person would just leave quickly on their own.

Lil’ Bleater’s cries got louder, more urgent. The singing stopped. For a moment, so did the sounds of the person’s footsteps. Then, they picked up again, faster this time.

From the trees that had blocked Eskel’s sight before, a man appeared, hastening towards the goat. A lute that marked the man as some sort of bard, was slung around his back and he wore a bright teal doublet that looked so out of place in this area that was mostly inhabited by farmers that Eskel could do nothing but stare.

The man cocked his head to the side like a curious bird when he laid eyes on Lil’ Bleater.

“Hey there, you adorable little thing.” Eskel couldn’t see the man’s face, but his smile was evident in his bright voice. “The shepherd forgot you here? Don’t worry, I’ll get you back home.”

Eskel stifled a curse when the bard kneeled down in front of the goat and ran a hand over her fur with a delighted laugh when Lil’ Bleater nibbled at his fingers, all the while babbling excitedly at her. His laugh was almost as melodious as his singing had been before. Eskel didn’t get many chances to hear people laugh so carefree. Most laughter died when people realised that there was a witcher in their midst.

Eskel watched with a strangely fast beating heart how the bard started to work on the knot. He let out a string of colourful curses when he realised that the know was too tight for him to untangle.

“Fret not,” he said in a dramatic voice through clenched teeth from the effort. “I will rescue you.”

He was so strangely theatrical, that Eskel forgot himself and let out a short laugh, not loud enough for the bard to hear, but enough to startle Eskel himself. He couldn’t remember a time when he had laughed outside of the halls of Kaer Morhen.

Eskel was so taken aback by the unexpected thought, that for a second he forgot to pay any attention to his surroundings. Being negligent was a mistake a witcher only made once in his life.

A moment of distraction was all a griffin needed to emerge from the sky. It was quiet as it approached its prey. The man probably would have never noticed the impending danger if it weren’t for the shadow falling over him. His head snapped up and he let out a terror-filled cry.

It tore Eskel out of his stupor.

He jumped forth from the trees, his free hand stretched out before him and racing towards the bard. A burst of igni interrupted the griffin’s dive, but it Eskel wasn’t close enough yet to even singe the beast’s feathers.

“Get out of here!” Eskel shouted at the bard, whose head snapped up to him.

Eskel had no time to pay any attention to the way he looked at him. He had to focus on the real threat. Readying his crossbow, he ran ever closer. The first bolt flew through the air while he was still mid-run. It barely hit its mark.

The griffin screeched, Lil Bleater let out a terrified cry and the man panted in panic. And still he didn’t get up, didn’t even scramble away.

Out of the corner of his eyes Eskel saw how he worked more frantically then before on Lil’ Bleater’s restrains.

His heart skipped a beat. The distraction lasted only a second, but it was enough for the griffin to take a turn and dive down again, his claws aiming for Eskel.

Eskel cursed and unsheathed his sword. The griffin was almost there. Only one more second and he would be close enough to hit it. Or be seized by the deadly claws.

“Watch out!”

The shout came at the same time that something barrelled into Eskel and it wasn’t the griffin.

No man could push a witcher to the ground with his strength alone, but the shove came so unexpected, that Eskel tumbled to the ground when the man tackled him. The man let out a muffled groan when he fell onto Eskel, for some reason not even trying to catch the fall with his hands.

The talons of the beast missed the bard by a hair’s breadth, Eskel could almost see them gracing his hair.

His heart clenched and without hesitation, Eskel flipped them so that the reckless stranger was lying beneath him. Eskel didn’t look at him as he shielded him with his body.

The griffin’s beak darted forwards and Eskel threw up a quen-shield.

“Stay down,” Eskel commanded harshly and jumped back to his feet and spun around. This time, when the griffin lunged for him, Eskel’s sword buried itself deep into its flesh.

Panting, Eskel stood over the beast as it crashed to the ground, just a few feet away from the man. Without hesitation, he delivered the final blow.  

The stranger whimpered when the sword made a squelching sound as it was torn out of the griffin’s body.

Eskel wanted to whirl around and scold the bard for how stupidly reckless he had been. Heroes didn’t survive for long out in the real wold. If he had died that would have been on Eskel.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and tried to sooth the frown lines on his face away as he slowly turned to face the man again, though not enough to put his scars on full display. The bard had just escaped death, he didn’t need to be scared any further.

“Are you alright?” Eskel asked as gently as he could, but his breath hitched when he finally met the man’s eyes.

They were wide and impossibly blue and they didn’t look at Eskel as if the bard thought that Eskel would be the next thing to attack him. The blue-eyes man didn’t flinch back from the yellow gaze on him and no renewed spike of fear reeked off of him. True, the smell of panic still clung to him, but beneath him, but fainter than before and there was a strange sort of excitement coming off of the man.

He let out a startled laugh, likely a result of the realisation that the danger was over now.

“That was fantastic!” He shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen!”

Eskel’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t….”

His words dried in his mouth and he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the curve of the bard’s smile and the glint in his eyes. Eskel shouldn’t let that get to him. Neither of these things were truly meant for him. Once the bard calmed down enough to think rationally again, the would realise that Eskel was not someone to smile at.

“I told you to run,” Eskel said, more to keep himself from wishing that this brilliant smile stayed on him. “You could have gotten hurt.”

The bard tilted his head to the side and he gave Eskel a long look. “Something tells me you wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Eskel didn’t reply. It was the truth, but the bard almost made it sound as if he thought Eskel was some sort of hero for it.

Uncomfortable under the almost admiring look, Eskel let his eyes wander over the bard’s body, making sure he truly wasn’t injured.

Eskel’s breath got stuck in his throat when his eyes fell on what the bard was holding protectively to his chest. The tiny goat that was cuddled comfortably in his arms gave a happy bleat.

“You…” Eskel’s eyes snapped back up. “You saved Lil’ Bleater?”

For a second the bard looked like he was about to scoff at the idea that he could ever let an animal get harmed, but then his eyes lit up in delight and his smile widened as if Eskel had said something that earned him such a reaction.

“Lil Bleater? That is the most adorable name I’ve ever heard.” A glint of mischief entered his eyes. “And what might your name be? I can keep calling you my valiant saviour in my head, but I think I’d much rather put a name to that handsome face.”

Eskel let out a huff and turned away a bit more, making sure that his scars were as hidden as they could be. He knew even without the bard seeing them, he wouldn’t be considered handsome. He was too broad, too soft in places where his muscles should show and yet too bulky to not be intimidating. But it was nice hearing the word directed at him. The way the bard said it, Eskel could almost let himself believe that he meant it.

He risked another quick glance at the bard’s face and he found no trace of mockery in it.

“I’m Eskel,” he said, swallowing thickly when the bard’s smile grew into a full grin.

“I am Jaskier,” came the reply.

Eskel’s chest clenched uncomfortably. People didn’t offer witchers their names. They didn’t smile at them or talk to them without squirming in discomfort. They didn’t save goats from griffins and push witchers out of apparent danger.

And yet, Jaskier had done all those things. It did something strange to Eskel’s chest, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew he should just leave. Get his pay and forget all about the man with the lovely voice and the blue eyes.

Instead, he heard himself asking, “Would you like to go back to town with me?”

It was a foolish thing to ask and Eskel knew the answer before Jaskier even opened his mouth.

But instead of coming up with an excuse of flat out refusing the preposterous offer, Jaskier’s face brightened. “Of course!” He winked and Eskel’s insides gave a strange twist at the unexpected gesture. “After all, I promised Lil’ Bleater to get her back safely. And I would be loath to part with the lovely thing already.”

Jaskier’s teasing tone allowed no doubt that it wasn’t the goat he wanted to spend more time with.

“I’m sure she would hate saying goodbye to you already as well,” Eskel replied in a strangely choked voice.

A soft laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips and Eskel felt the corner of his own lips twitch up in turn, for once not caring how his smile twisted his face. With the way Jaskier’s eyes softened at Eskel’s smile, he almost began to think that this strange man that saved goats and called him handsome, could see Eskel as something other than a scarred and shunned witcher.

His heart fluttered at the thought and as he held up a hand to pull Jaskier up from the ground and Jaskier took it without hesitation, Eskel thought that for the first time he could dare take the risk and find out if Jaskier’s smile would maybe stay on him a little longer.

He was almost certain that it would.

[jaskierswolf]

The White Wolf (pt. 1/3)

Ship: Geraskier - Established. Rating: T Word Count: 6k in total (this chapter is 2k)

Summary: Following an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Geralt gets cursed into a wolf. Jaskier and Geralt must travel the Continent in search of someone that can help them. (AO3)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, nudity (Jaskier’s clothes don’t change with him).

Part 7: Shifter!Jaskier Verse (Tumblr) - Can be read as a stand alone. 

_________

The cloud of sparkling dust settled on the floor and Geralt was nowhere to be seen. The last Jaskier had seen of his boyfriend, he’d been thrown against the wall, barely able to move his fingers to form Quen in time before his head knocked against the stone. There was no witcher in the room now. Just a pile of bloodstained white fur in the corner of the room.

Jaskier snarled and sniffed the air. He could smell Geralt but something was wrong. Geralt reeked of wet dog. Jaskier growled, low and menacing, at the sorcerer in front of them. The man had been luring children away from their homes in the dead of night using all sorts of sweet treats. Then at night he was pulling their dreams from their minds and using them for fuck knows what. The children were returning to their homes as lifeless ghosts of their former selves, and thus a witcher and his trusted companion had been hired.

“I’m no fool, bard.” The sorcerer spat. “I can sense your magic.

Jaskier let his sharp teeth show as he snarled again. He let his magic loose and there was a sickening crunch of bones. Jaskier’s thick russet fur melted away into long red feathers. He spread his wings as a thick black mane grew along he neck. He roared at the sorcerer and struck both talons across his chest, balancing on the large lion paws of his hind legs. The sorcerer was thrown backwards as dark blood seeped through his clothing. The attack had caught him off guard. Jaskier stalked forward, his front talons clacking on the wooden floor. This human had stolen Jaskier’s mate and they had to pay.

The scent of blood was thick in the air and all he knew was the hunt.

The prey was wounded. It was an easy kill.

He screeched as he prepared to land the final blow but a large snowy white wolf with glowing amber eyes suddenly stood between him and the prey.

Amber eyes.

Jaskier knew those eyes.

Geralt.

He let his magic loose and shifted back into a wolf. There was just something about Geralt being in wolf form that ignited all his pack instincts. He didn’t know whether Geralt was stuck as a wolf or could shift between animals, but Jaskier knew he would match Geralt no matter what.

The thought gave him pause. He wondered whether it was an instinct of his people, lost and long forgotten. Were there ever groups of shifters? Were they still alive? Or was he alone… He’d always felt so alone. Jaskier nudged his head under Geralt’s snout and whined. Geralt huffed and butted Jaskier’s head. Jaskier did his best wolfy grin and then mouthed at Geralt’s nose before rolling over onto his back with a wag of his tail.

Geralt gave a quick bark and then looked pointedly between Jaskier and mage. Jaskier tilted his head, wondering how Geralt still managed to look unimpressed even as a wolf. Jaskier snorted and rolled back onto his paws. He glanced around the room, his clothes were still at the inn. Geralt’s clothes appeared to have disappeared when he was changed into a wolf; lucky bastard. He spotted a long cloak hanging up on the wall and wagged his tail. He leapt up on his hind legs and pulled at the cloak with his teeth. When he was covered nicely by the heavy material he shifted back into his human form with a crack of his bones.

The cloak was thick, grey and woollen. It had a large hood, reminiscent of the cloaks the elves used. He wrapped it round his shoulders and then grinned at Geralt.

“Hello, dearest. I know you’re the White Wolf and all, but isn’t this taking it a bit too far?” He reached out with his hand and Geralt bumped it with his snout. He gave Geralt a quick scratch behind the ears. “Can you shift?”

Geralt tilted his head.

Jaskier frowned and stuck his tongue out as he tried to figure out a way to explain it. It was like trying to explain how to blink or breathe or… just exist. “Umm, ah, think of Roach? Try and feel her hooves, her mane?”

Geralt’s snout scrunch up and he let out a snarl.

“No?”

Geralt shook his head, one ear twitched and Jaskier couldn’t help but coo. Geralt growled at that.

“I’m sorry!” He said, not really sorry at all. “But, my love, you look so cute!”

Another growl.

“Oh stop it. You’re trying to be all scary witcher and it’s not working. You are adorable and I can turn into a dragon so shush.” He bopped Geralt on the nose and gave him another scratch behind the ears. Geralt’s tail began to wag. Geralt looked behind him and snarled, clearly not enjoying the way his body was betraying his feelings. He also looked as if he was about to start chasing his tail. He was baring his teeth, snarling as the tail flicked on the stone floor. Jaskier took pity on him and knelt down so he could cup his wolf’s face in his hands. “Geralt, darling?”

Geralt blinked and looked up at him.

“There you go. The instincts might feel a bit strong at first but we’ll work it out alright?” Jaskier buried in face in Geralt’s fur, his own instincts to shift back into a wolf were almost overwhelming him, but Geralt needed him human. It was easier to explain things to his newly wolf companion when he could use words. It was also nice to be able to snuggle in Geralt’s fur for a change.  “Do you know how to fix this?”

Geralt shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have killed the mage, should I?” Jaskier asked with a sigh.

Another head shake and a whine.

Jaskier kissed Geralt’s head. “In my defence, witcher. I thought he’d killed you!” Geralt licked his face and he grimaced. “Geralt! Oh gods, that went up my nose!”

Geralt wagged his tail and pounced. Jaskier was knocked back onto the ground and Geralt’s tongue was drooling all over his face, which would have been fine if Geralt’s tongue didn’t feel so coarse against his skin. “Oi, no! Get off you big lump!”

Geralt nipped at his ear and sat back down, his tail thumped noisily against the stone floor.

Jaskier sighed and grabbed Geralt’s swords from where they’d clattered on the floor. Jaskier hummed. Geralt’s clothes and medallion had changed with him but his swords had not. At least his magic was consistent. Geralt head-butted his leg and they finally fled the tower together. It felt strange being the one on two feet instead of four but they’d faced worse things in their two years travelling together.

Two years…

Had it really been so long? He’d been with Geralt for two whole years… not mentioning the little blip of his mother’s horrendous return into his life. He shuddered at the memory. Yeah, they’d definitely been through worse together. ___________

As they approached the town Geralt snorted and laid down on the ground, resting his head on his big white paws. Jaskier glanced over his shoulder at the wolf with a scowl before he realised why Geralt had stopped. He grinned and walked back to pet Geralt’s head. Geralt’s tail thumped heavily against the ground as Jaskier gave him a scratch behind the ear. Geralt still looked put out by his tail’s reaction to affection but now seemed resigned to the fact he could no longer mask his happier feelings.

“Well isn’t this a turn of events. I’m normally the one that has to wait outside!” Jaskier announced with a laugh.

Geralt let out a low growl and mouthed at Jaskier’s fingers.

“Ouch! Sharp teeth, Geralt. You’re not exactly a pup, dear heart,” Jaskier chided.

Geralt’s ears flicked and Jaskier was pretty sure the strange snuffling noise was Geralt trying to laugh at him.

“Stay here. I’ll go and get our stuff,” he sighed and looked down at himself. The cloak wasn’t exactly modest and whilst he had very little shame over his body, most humans wouldn’t appreciate him walking around town with his dick out. “Next time we are keeping my clothes in a pack and not back at the inn.”

Geralt barked and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he wagged his tail.

“Yeah yeah, go on, laugh at your poor suffering boyfriend.”

Geralt barked again and jumped up to lick Jaskier’s face, placing both paws on Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier just ruffled Geralt’s fur and kissed his snout.

“I’ll be back soon, love.”

He wrapped the cloak around him in a feeble attempt to cover himself up and trudged back to the inn. He did get some bizarre looks from the villagers but he did his best to ignore them. Had they never seen a bard wearing just a cloak and witcher’s swords before? He scoffed. They were amateurs. He tried to sneak up to their room at the inn but the bloody innkeeper spotted him.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going?”

Jaskier spun around, only just remembering to keep his hands gripped on the cloak to stop it from flying open. He still had Geralt’s swords in their holder in his hand and he held them up for the innkeeper to see. “I’m a friend of the witcher’s. Jaskier? The bard? You might have heard of me?”

“Toss a Coin?” The innkeeper asked and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah, yes. That’s the one,” He sang a couple of lines just to prove his point. “And umm, well. Geralt… Geralt was looking after my lute for me whilst I was… away?”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier winced. It was a terrible story and he was ashamed. “But you see, I really need to get it back.”

“Did the witcher take your clothes too?” The innkeeper asked with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up and it took all his control not to shift back into a mouse. He laughed nervously and tugged the cloak tighter around his chest. “Well, funny you should say that.”

“Those his swords?”

“Yes! Yes they are. I ran into him on the path just outside of town. He’s dealt with your mage problem, but ah. Umm. Spells! He was hit by a spell and it’s really not very pretty so he asked me to collect our… his.. belongings. So I’m just…” He pointed to the stairs and the innkeeper waved his hand. “Thank you ever so much, kind sir. May all the gods praise you!”

“Just go, bard.”

Jaskier gave a quick bow and then flew up the stairs, two steps at at time. Once inside the room he got dressed and quickly gathered up their belongings before heading back out to fetch Roach. The conversation with the stable girl went just as well as the one with the innkeeper and Jaskier barely remembered the story he’d woven only a few minutes before, but he was gone and heading back towards the forest before anyone else could question him.

He didn’t ride Roach but it was easier with her carrying the bags and his lute. Once he was out of sight from the townsfolk he considered shifting back into a wolf. Whatever the mage had hit Geralt with was driving him crazy, but they still needed to find a solution to Geralt’s wolf problem so regretfully he remained on two feet. He huffed and dragged his feet as they headed back to where he’d left Geralt. How did people cope with being in one form all the time? It was so boring!

___________

Next

[mehoymalloy]

Look I don't know shit about math. But now that I've finished the second chapter of Prometheus Bound, the writer's block flood gates have opened! I banged this out after a lot of research on Alva, old maritime navigation methods, and math prerequisites for aerospace engineering. Alva canonically says (paraphasing) "The sheer calculations needed for space travel! It's amazing!" You can't tell me isn't a huge math nerd.

...she[Tilda] heard fast approaching footsteps, then a skid and muffled shout of alarm. Then a crash. Tilda jumped up just as her door opened to Alva and Aloy sprawled on the floor. Aloy was sitting up, holding Alva steady, who was half in her lap and looked worryingly close to face-planting the ground.

“Ah,” Tilda quickly stepped toward the doorway, “Are you two all right?”

Alva flailed to right herself, and Aloy kept one hand braced against her hip to help her up. “Yes! I mean–” she quickly turned to Aloy, grabbing her arms and hauling her to her feet with surprising strength, “Aloy, I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

Aloy quickly got her balance and looked between the two of them. “I’m fine. Uh, what’s going on?”

Alva bounced in place again, gesturing to Tilda as she spoke, “Oh, Tilda has been telling me so much about the Legacy! Did you know Song Jiao–the Healer, I mentioned her before–actually created the Zeniths’ life-extension gene therapy treatments! She created practical immortality, Aloy! Odd as it is, it’s still an amazing accomplishment!”

Aloy glanced at Tilda again, raising her eyebrow just slightly. Tilda merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders minutely, turning her gaze back to Alva as she continued.

“And so many of our ‘Assistants’–oh, I hate that word now–were so much more than we were lead to believe! And the math, Aloy!”

Aloy looked increasingly distressed as Alva continued, eyes widening in alarm.

“I mean, the Quen’s navigators have been using gyrocompasses for ages now, but it can be difficult to scavenge parts if one malfunctions, and they are very rare as it is. If that fails, there’s always a sextant and good old-fashioned star navigation—which is notoriously unreliable, mind you—so like I said, I know math! But the calculations needed for space travel?? Algebra, geometry, and trigonometry are one thing, but calculus, differential equations, Laplace and Fourier transforms–” 

Alva counted the subjects off on her fingers, pointing to each digit as she did so. She very quickly needed to utilize both hands, so she simply shook them for emphasis very close to Aloy’s face, quite aggressively, Tilda noted.

“–control theory, orbital mechanics, fluid mechanics. And that’s not even mentioning the science and physics needed to actually build a space-faring vessel!”

Aloy was leaning away from Alva, who was oblivious to her increasingly overwhelmed state.

“Oh! I just have so much to learn, and Tilda was just sharing some more files with me–” At that, she smiled brightly at Tilda, who shot her a weak smile in return–"Thank you, by the way! That’s actually originally what I came over here to say, before I literally ran into Aloy here,” she grabbed said Aloy by the shoulders and gave her a quick once-over, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The whiplash was even getting to Tilda.

Aloy nodded mutely, then cleared her throat, “Of course, Alva…” She still looked vaguely frightened. Something Alva was far too wrapped up in her plans to notice. She gave Aloy a quick hug, then threw one final thanks over her shoulder as she turned back toward the archives, delightfully declaring, “Oh, I can’t wait to study these!” as she went.

[pressedinthepages]

Allure

next fill for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

also big thanks to @childoffantasy for beta-ing and @sometimesiwrite for helping me spin this story together <3

Prompt: Non-human genitalia

Relationship: Lambert/Essi

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: siren!essi, smut, non-human genitalia, discussion of a/b/o dynamics, cum play, squirting (sort of), a tad bit of overstimulation, oral (f/non-human receiving), penetrative sex.

Summary: Lambert hears a voice calling over the cliffs and instead of finding a threat, he finds some welcoming company.

Scents of salt and sea-crisp breeze filled Lambert’s senses as he tred beneath the moonlit coast. His coin purse was light, and he had found himself searching the shoreline for drowner nests or rotfiend camps. He had been walking for hours and hadn’t seen hide nor tail of any of the scaly fuckers, couldn’t even smell the deathly sweet tinge of decay on the air. Lambert had just about given up when he heard a voice, sweet and ethereal, calling out in a language unknown over the craggly cliffs.

His medallion hummed lightly on his chest and he tred carefully, his boots pushing through damp sand and sea glass until he rounded the base of a low cliff. Lambert stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, golden-blond hair glowing in the light of the moon and the stars where she stood atop the cliff. She looked down, her voice carrying over the waves and the unrelenting breeze that threatened to lift her away. She held out her hand and stopped singing, and Lambert’s medallion stilled on his chest. He raised his brow, gave a quick glance around, and sighed.

Eskel’s been getting to me.

Lambert hopped up onto the lowest rock at the base of the cliff and followed a hollowed out trail set deep into the dark stone, keeping his steps light and his hand braced in the sign for Quen, just in case. The wind whipped through his short dark hair as he crested the bend, finding lucious beds of grass leading straight to the woman’s bare feet.

She stood with her back to him, her shoulders and hips relaxed. She wore a simple dress that was so thin, so light, that it was almost sheer, the curves of her shoulders and her waist silently taunting Lambert from where she stood. Her hair fell in light blond waves down the line of her back, dancing and twirling in the wind. Lambert took a deep breath in, trying to decipher what was her and what was picked up on the air.

His mind swam with her. She was of chaos and serenity, spice and salt, a sweet spring day and the sharp tang of poison. She was dangerous, and Lambert was fucking hooked.

Lambert cleared his throat and kept his eye trained on her, waiting for the pin to drop. “You uh...you alright?”

The breeze carried her breathy chuckle to his ears as she slowly turned around. Her eyes were blue, and just a bit too...shiny? Sparkly? Both? Eh, who gives a shit. “I’m doing quite alright, thank you for asking.”

Lambert took a hesitant step forward, keeping his hands by his sides to show no outward signs of aggression. “What are you doing up here?”

The woman glanced around and shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Singing.”

“To?”

“Whoever will listen.”

“Uh huh. Right…” Lambert nodded and took another step towards the woman. “What’s your name?”

The woman smiled kindly, showing canines that were maybe just a little too sharp, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. “I am called Essi. And you?”

“Lambert.”

“A witcher, correct?” Lambert nodded and Essi crossed her arms. “Have you been sent to kill me?”

Lambert furrowed his brow as he held the intense gaze of the woman with the magical voice before him. “Should I have been?”

Essi shrugged and gestured widely to the bare evening around them. “People, these days, tend to fear what they deem ‘different.’ I am no exception.”

Lambert stepped closer once more, enough to feel the subtle shift in the air around her and catch the tinge of salt on his tongue. “You look human. I can tell you have magic, and that song...it’s enchanting...and not just in the complementary way.”

“You’d be correct. It’s a siren song, meant to ward off predators.”

Lambert nodded. “Part siren, then? Huh. How’d that happen?”

Essi tilted her head and sighed. “I’d...rather not get into it. It’s not a terribly happy story, I’m afraid.”

“Fair enough,” Lambert crossed his arms and breathed in the cool night air. “Are you...safe here? I mean, as safe as someone can be nowadays…”

Essi shook her head, her golden curls bouncing over her shoulders and around her collarbones. “Not really, no. I’m headed for Skellige, though. Just wanted one last night here…”

Lambert cleared his throat, watching her sparkling eyes dance over the tides. “You uh...you need any help? With anything?”

She looked back at him, her eyes slowly dragging down his body and back up again, burning with their intensity. Something darker, sweeter floated across the breeze and Lambert could almost taste the honey-sweet aroma that threatened to send him under.

“I could use your company for the night, if you’re offering.” Essi reached up and undid the button on one of her shoulders, letting the gauzy fabric fall open. Lambert swallowed thickly as the curve of her breast was bathed in moonlight, her nipple already pebbled from the chilly breeze that could cut through skin.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m offering,” he said, closing the distance between them and finally reaching his hand out to touch her. Essi’s fingers tangled with his, pulling a shuddering gasp from the back of Lambert’s throat at just the simplest contact.

“Sensitive,” Essi drawled, baring her throat as her eyes gleaned down to where Lambert’s pulse beat beneath his wrist, “good.”

She pushed him gently as she stepped around him, still holding his hand and pulling him along. Lambert watched the waves of grass skirt along her ankles as she stopped, the wind still carrying her in an endless dance. Locking her eyes with his, Essi brought Lambert’s hand up to her breast and pushed his fingers into the tender flesh.

“Don’t-uh…” Lambert glanced around even as the insistent thrum of her heart sang up through her impossibly soft skin, “don’t you wanna find somewhere more private?”

Essi shook her head. “No one will bother us. The song, meant for so long to keep away those that would wish us harm, now keeps any and all at bay. The only reason you were able to find me is because I allowed it.”

“Why?” Lambert breathed, his hand resting still above Essi’s heart.

“Must there be an answer?” Essi tilted her head and ran her fingers down the line of Lambert’s jaw, watching the muscles shift and twitch as he clenched down and drew in a shuddering breath. Her other hand drew up past Lambert’s on her chest and released the other bit of her dress and let it fall to her hips, revealing the plane of her chest and the dips of her collar. Her nipples, dusky pink against the pale alabaster of her skin, pebbled in the cool air and Lambert was overcome with the urge to wrap his lips around them and drag his tongue over the sensitive nubs.

Lambert swallowed thickly and shook his head. “N-no, I guess not.”

“Good,” Essi whispered like leaves on the wind as she pushed up to her tiptoes and finally closed the miniscule distance that was left between them.

Lambert inhaled sharply through his nose at the first glance of her lips against his, his skin almost surprised at the gentle touch after so long without. She tasted of ocean air, light and crisp and it was almost as if he could feel the call to go deeper to sea in her kiss. He carefully squeezed the flesh of her breast in his hand as he brought his other to rest comfortably on her hip, toying with the edge of her dress where it still sat, momentarily forgotten.

He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over the seam of Essi’s mouth and groaning when her lips parted, her fingers threading up into his hair. He felt just the barest tingle of her magic along his scalp and down the line of his spine as she pulled him impossibly closer, slotting his leg between her own and dragging herself along his thigh. Lambert’s medallion offered a little vibration on his chest, which was dutifully ignored by its host.

Essi ran her hands down Lambert’s neck and to the straps of his scabbards on his shoulder. “May I?” Essi breathed into his mouth.

Lambert took a deep breath and brought his head back enough to look into her too-blue eyes, searching for that last little hint of ill-will that would make him take his swords and scram. All he found, though, were pupils widened with lust and lips swollen and shining from his own. He felt her fingers fiddling with the metal buckle on his shoulder and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah alright. Go ahead.”

Essi hummed with a cheeky smile as she slid the leather out of the buckle, taking his swords, so deadly and threatening to anyone who would wind up on the wrong end of them, and setting them safely on the ground with a reverence one would typically reserve for precious jewels or beloved mementos. She undid the ties at his neck holding his jerkin closed, sliding her hands beneath the heavy armoured fabric and pushing it off of his shoulders and down his arms.

Lambert felt struck dumb as she went about undressing him, his arms hanging limp at his sides as his jerkin was set down on the ground with as much care as his swords had been. Essi fiddled with the ties on his codpiece, her fingers just barely glancing over his cock that had been willfully ignored for far too long.

He surged forward, digging the pads of his fingers into the softness of Essi’s hips as he fit his nose into the crook of her neck. He breathed her in while she yanked his linen shirt from where it had been tucked into his trousers. Essi’s hands, while still gentle and deliberate, moved with fervor as Lambert nipped and sucked on the delicate skin above where her pulse beat erratically.

Her hands were oddly cool on his skin as she pushed his shirt up over his head, Lambert’s lips leaving Essi’s neck for only the briefest moment as it was shoved aside. He brought her back to him, pressing their bare chests together and rubbing his thumb over one of her nipples, relishing the throaty gasp torn from her chest. He could feel the pull of chaos building behind his belly button, the fish hook yanking backwards into places within him yet unknown. Goosebumps erupted along Essi’s skin as Lambert’s hand passed over it.

“Your fingers tingle with magic hidden beneath the skin,” Essi whispered as he dragged his hands down over her stomach.

“Not like yours,” he said, pressing his lips into the hollow of her collar, “mine was trained into me. You...you’ve got magic older than what time can rightly tell.”

Lambert slid his hand down to the apex of Essi’s thighs and went to run his fingers along her slit. Though...it didn’t feel quite how he was expecting, even through her dress. But gods, he felt the gasp that she bled into his mouth like a punch to the gut, and he really couldn’t find himself to care just what lay beneath the thin layer of windswept linen.

Essi’s nails dug into the meat of Lambert’s shoulders as his hands dipped under her dress and over the swell of her ass, pushing away the fabric and leaving her bare in the moonlight. She stepped out of the dress as it pooled onto the ground and kicked it away, letting Lambert’s eyes dance over her naked form. She was fully aware that she didn’t look precisely human while nude, but she had been around long enough to not care, and to know that a great many humans didn’t care either.

“I’m sure you already know this,” Lambert breathed, dragging his fingers lightly up the outside of her thigh, “but you really are beautiful.”

Essi felt herself blush as she pulled him down for another kiss, her hands working at the laces of his codpiece and pushing it aside, reaching in and wrapping herself around the weeping cock hidden away. She smirked against his lips when he bucked into her hand. “You’re not so bad yourself, especially like this.”

Lambert smirked right back at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and led her to lay in the grass, letting her golden hair splay around her head like spilled starlight. He kicked away his pants and boots and kneeled down by her knees. “I’ve never really had anyone like...this. Tell me what feels good?”

Essi nodded. “You’re doing well already. Not many ask my preference.”

“Well, then they’re assholes.”

“I won’t argue that. Slip your fingers into my slit, feel around. Tell me what you find.”

Lambert quirked his brow with a roguish grin. “So mysterious. I’m always excited about research…”

He slipped his fingers down into the warm embrace between her thighs, finding...something that might remind him of a small cock without much use of his imagination. But it was ribbed along the base and came to a finer point rather than the bulbous head he was so familiar with. As he parted her slit, it sprung free and bounced up to rest by the crook of her hip, clearly rigid with blood in the way that he might also expect. What he didn’t expect was the color. The slick, smooth skin was a deep navy blue, which transitioned to the color of the blushed corals that grew along the shoreline.

Lambert tilted his head and dragged his fingers down the stiff line of Essi’s length, watching as her back arched and she let out a strangled gasp. “Well,” he smiled, “I have found something that seems to feel very nice indeed. And quite lovely to look at. What do you call it?”

Essi chuckled as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Well...I think that the technical term is ‘anchor,’ though I don’t think that’s terribly sexy. I usually just call it a shaft and move on with my life.”

“And, ah, have I been treating it properly?”

Essi dragged her fingers down over her chest, lightly rubbing her nipples as Lambert almost started to fucking drool. “You’re on the right track. Now, you can gently wrap your hand around it and stroke up and down, almost like your own. Though I don’t much care for the squeezing. Touch me like you’d touch a glass with a bolt of lightning contained inside. It’s very powerful, sturdy. But it can shatter with the smallest push too far.”

Lambert nodded with a wink, “Sounds like something I’ve handled successfully before.” With that he took her gingerly in hand, feeling the smooth weight of it in his palm. It was slipperier than he was used to, which eased its movement in his loose fist. He didn’t have to go far, it fit almost perfectly in his hand with the exception of the coral-pink tip which seemed to be the most sensitive area. He worked slowly, carefully, despite the voice in his head screaming for him to get on with it. He wasn’t an idiot. There was a right and a wrong way to do this, and the wrong way meant a good time had by no one.

Essi felt a pleasant shock rumble up through her stomach and across her chest, her hips following Lambert’s loose grip as her breathing became deeper and more drawn out. “Ah, ah just like that. You’re a natural-”

“Can I taste you?” Lambert interrupted her, his eyes almost black with how dilated his pupils were. He could smell her arousal, that thick heady scent swirling straight down to his cock and fucking Gods he just really wanted to use his mouth on her-

Essi chuckled breathily, “Alright, yes! Again, just be gentl-nnngg…”

Lambert felt his cheeks flush when he realized that he had actually been speaking aloud, but he hid himself by dragging the flat of his tongue slowly up the line of her shaft. He could feel the ridges catching before smoothing out towards the tip, which he only barely lapped at when he felt her thighs tense around his head. Gods, she tasted like a gulpful of air on the purest beach.

After a few successful laps at her shaft, Lambert tilted his head, adjusted his angle, and carefully took her entire length into the wet heat of his mouth. Essi gasped and keened loudly over the cliffs, and Lambert wagered no one else had bothered to think of doing that. Numbskulls didn’t know what they were missing. He felt cool fingers weave into his hair as he worked, rubbing the textured base with his thumb and forefinger, which prompted a guttural groan from above him.

“F-fuck, al-” Essi swallowed thickly, willing herself to see this out. Gods-be-damned, he was good. “Alright. T-take your fingers and go back a bit, I ne-fuck I need something inside of me please.”

Lambert’s fingers stopped their back and forth drag around Essi’s shaft and dropped lower, sliding between slick lips and fitting comfortably into an opening that fluttered around the intrusion, drenching his hand with a fresh wave of arousal. It was quite the familiar spot for Lambert to find himself in, though it was...unexpected, what with her shaft having held the forefront of his attention so far.

He pulled away from her shaft long enough to make sure he knew what he was working with, “H-how...Essi, is this what I think it is?” Lambert’s voice was incredulous, almost sounding as if he had never known anything that had made him quite this happy.

“Essentially, yes.”

“Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Essi smiled, that oddly sharp canine tooth glinting under the moon, “All sirens are either Alphas or Omegas or Betas, and have the corresponding equivalent anatomy. With our own little twist, of course. I would be considered an Omega, if I were a full-blooded siren, but being half-human, I have my own unique variations. You should be more or less familiar with this territory. Unless I’m much mistaken.”

Lambert sighed happily. “Gods, woman. You are just a whole bunch of extra fun, aren’t you?”

He shuffled around for a moment, bracing himself on his knees and elbows with his head level with her core. Essi felt the warm fan of his breath over her before he slowly pushed two fingers inside of her, moving back and forth at a languid pace while his other hand resumed its gentle exploration of her shaft. “Is it extra sensitive down here too, or can I give you a little more?”

Essi shook her head as she felt Lambert’s tongue lap at the base of her length, teasing the ridges back and forth. “No more than typical I’d say, at least for what experiences with human women I’ve had. Th-the tip is the most sensitive, so you, uh...you can go for it. Just not too fast all at once, alright?”

Lambert nodded and carefully nosed down the line of her shaft and down to her entrance. His hand still moved loosely over the base while he licked into her core, broad strokes matching the pace of his hands around her and inside of her. Essi looked down and watched him with an odd expression. His eyes were closed and the high planes of his cheeks were flushed pink as the dark blue skin of her shaft bumped against his forehead with every stroke of his fist and tongue.

Meanwhile, Lambert was having a religious experience in the liminal space nestled between Essi’s thighs. Time didn’t exist outside of that spot, and for all he knew the world could’ve ceased turning and was hurtling towards oblivion. And if it were?

Well, he really didn’t give a shit.

His own cock was achingly hard, leaking pearly strings onto the grass between his knees. Lambert relished every twitch of Essi’s thighs around his head as he pushed his tongue into the warm embrace of her slit. He moaned from deep in his chest, his nose bumping against the ridges on Essi’s shaft while he still moved his hand around her.

Essi gasped and writhed as Lambert very gently ran his thumb over her extra-sensitive tip, not lingering or pushing her too far, just the barest shock of intensity before resuming his gentle exploration. Her hands flew to tangle into his hair and she could feel his smirk as he pressed his lips in soft kisses to the insides of her thighs. His chest rumbled with a hum as he slipped his fingers from her core and shoved them into his mouth, licking them clean.

“W-” she breathed, feeling the golden flames of his eyes trail over her skin, “why’d you stop?”

Lambert braced his hands on the ground and pushed himself up, the scruff on his chin shining with her arousal and the endearing smile on his lips. “Just don’t want this to be over before it starts. C...can I fuck you?”

Essi smiled and ran her hands over Lambert’s stomach, through the dark coarse hairs that led down to his cock jutting just next to her own hard shaft. “Yes,” she smiled, her blue eyes boring into his, “but not like this.”

She gently pushed Lambert’s shoulders back and sat up with him, slotting their lips together briefly before she flipped herself around onto her hands and knees.

Lambert groaned, running his hands up the back of her thighs and giving the soft rounds of her bum a squeeze. He slid his finger down to the slickness between her thighs. “Oh, fuck me sideways, woman.”

His hands were reverent, skirting tracks of stardust along her spine and down over the gentle swells of her hips. Essi arched her back and shot a devilish smirk back over her shoulder, waving her ass back and forth enticingly. “Come on then,” she said with a glint in her eyes, “be good to me.”

Oh, and if that didn’t go right the fuck to Lambert’s cock. He scooted forward on his knees and took himself in hand, running the head of his length through her slick folds a few times, catching on her entrance. He felt a queer growl reverberate through her skin and he chuckled. “Alright, alright. Patience, you.”

He pushed in slowly, feeling her envelope him in the most indulgent heat he had ever had the great grace to know. Lambert dug his fingertips into the meat of Essi’s ass, while Essi’s nails dragged tracks along the soft grass pillowed beneath her. As his hips blissfully met the backs of Essi’s thighs, Lambert let out a shaky breath in an effort to keep his mind clear in the hazy mist of Essi’s pleasure.

“You ah-” Lambert sighed as her walls fluttered welcomingly around him, “you alright?”

Essi reached back, grasping onto one of Lambert’s on her hip. “Very,” she breathed, her chest heaving and her cunt clenching and flexing around Lambert. “Now if you would kindly move, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“You know,” Lambert said as he slowly shifted his hips back before rolling back in, looking down at her shiny lips trying desperately to keep him buried within her, “you’re quite the spinstrel. You-nnng, you should be a bard…”

Essi chuckled lightly. “A half-siren bard with enchanted songs? A cliche if ever there was one.”

“Just a thought, trying to keep myself from finishing before we really get anywhere,” Lambert grunted, his hips picking up just a bit more speed. Essi planted her hands firmy back on the ground and met him thrust for thrust, the claps of their skin echoing back from the cliffs.

Both of them were being swept out to sea by their pleasure, rushing waves slamming back and forth between them. Lambert’s eyes flitted over every inch of Essi before him, from the soft waves of her golden hair that bounced with each snap of his hips, down the delicate slope of her back arching into him, the curly fuzz that surrounded her slit and brushed against him as he buried himself inside of her.

Lambert slowed himself, grinding his hips up and down. Essi grit her teeth and keened quietly, pushing herself back in an effort to encourage Lambert’s pace.

“C-can I flip you over?” Lambert huffed, tracking his hands over Essi’s hips. “I know it’ll be a lot, and if you don’t like it, we can go back to this. But...I think you might enjoy it-”

Essi gasped as Lambert’s cock just barely brushed against the tender bundle of nerves nestled deep within her. She nodded frantically, “Y-yes, we can-fuck, please Lambert…”

Lambert looked down, his eyes locked on the sweet blushed lips of Essi’s cunt as he dragged himself from her embrace. He groaned as he fell from her, thin tendrils of her slick still attempting valiantly to tie them back together. Essi slid down, slinking and twisting onto her back. Her shaft lay up on the mound of soft curls at the base, shining with her arousal as Lambert crawled atop her.

He leaned down, resting their foreheads together and searching those far-too-deep eyes. He could smell her lust dripping from her skin, but could see just a hint of worry hidden in her glances. “Hey,” Lambert whispered, brushing their lips together as he spoke, “like I said. You don’t like it, say the word and we stop. No questions asked.”

Essi took a deep breath and nodded, swallowing thickly. “I promise, I want this. So fucking much. It’s just...going to be a lot. I don’t want to push too far...but I also kind of want to push too far, if that makes sense.”

Lambert pressed his lips softly along the line of her jaw and down into the hollow of her neck. “It absolutely does. But not too far, not tonight. Maybe, if we see our paths cross again, we can have some fun with that.”

Essi waggled her eyebrows and gently rolled her hips, gasping when the base of her shaft rutted against Lambert’s cock. “Please, fuck me.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lambert hummed as he lined himself up in her slit beneath her shaft, pushing back into her warm embrace with a growl that tore through his chest. The cool air on his back was shocked in great contrast with Essi’s body, hot and wet and so fucking tight.

Lambert gave a few good thrusts until he was buried deep within her, and fuck if he didn’t want to stay there until the world stopped turning. He leaned down, wrapping his arms underneath Essi’s back and letting his hands grip onto the backs of her shoulders. He felt her walls flutter valiantly around him and he groaned into her mouth.

Essi was shocked with just how much she felt Lambert. In her, on her, around her. Everywhere. He was fucking her slowly, intensely. Deeply. He wasn’t even really thrusting anymore, just grinding up into her and the coarse hairs on his stomach leading down to his groin brushed against her shaft every. Fucking. Time. She was almost delirious with the intensity, but instead of wanting to dance away from the ache, she found herself with the low burn of craving that had her fingers itching for every ounce of Lambert that she could reach.

Essi dug her nails into the short strands of his hair, mussing it before smoothing her hands down his neck and over his shoulders. Lambert shuddered over her, beads of sweat collecting at his temples as he nipped at her chin. Through the haze of her building climax, Essi only barely had the wherewithal to rub her thumbs over his nipples in time with the rolls of his hips.

And sweet fucking Gods above that was almost enough to do Lambert in. Just barely hanging on by a thread, he persists, determined to see Essi through to a satisfying finish. He felt her shaft pressing into the cushion of his stomach, the ridges along the underside sliding along the tender space of skin nestled right above his cock. “F-fuck,” he moans, tasting his own arousal on her lips, “w..what do you need? I’m so close, I-I need you to-”

“T-touch me,” Essi whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave arousal threatened to send her over, so close but not quite enough. “The t-tip, not a lot, jus-aaaahhhhhhh-”

Lambert reached between their bodies, lightly glancing his fingers in gentle strokes over the blushed tip of her shaft. Her back arched high and he could taste her tears of overstimulation as the wave of climax finally, blissfully overtook her.

And...well. That was an experience that Lambert found himself woefully underprepared for. Sure, he was familiar with the sensation of a fluttering cunt flexing around his cock. But holy fucking shit was the rest of this uncharted territory.

Essi’s shaft spurted out long streaks of spend, much thinner and wetter than he expected. It actually reminded him of a woman he had been with years ago who let out a long release of liquid when he hit a certain angle over and over again inside of her and drenched the both of them in her slick. The same happened with Essi as she spent long and hard, spurts of her arousal wetting the downy hairs on Lambert’s chest and pooling in the soft valley between her breasts.

Lambert’s hips faltered and he ground himself once, twice, thrice more before pulling himself out and stripping his cock, frantically letting his own orgasm white out his senses. He spent pearly white ropes over her shaft and her stomach, letting it drip down into the petals of her cunt.

His chest heaved as he felt his senses poke and prod at his climax-squishy brain. He could feel Essi’s hands smoothing down his arms and up to cup his face, her lips pressing soft kisses across his cheeks and into his slack mouth.

It was the scent of their spends mixing atop Essi’s skin that brought Lambert back to the present, Essi’s saltier and with a sweeter musk than he would think. He leaned down and ran his tongue between her breasts, his hands cupping the tender mounds while he tasted her pleasure. Her spend was clear with a light blue-grey tinge, and fuck it was addicting. She ran her fingers through his hair as he mouthed at her, moving down her stomach and over the hairs at the peak of her core. Her shaft had softened and slid itself back away, but she still glistened beneath the moonlight with the evidence of their climaxes.

Lambert sat up, bracing his hands on either side of Essi’s hips. “Well,” he smirked, but Essi could see a soft twinkle in his eyes, “did I do a well enough job to earn an encore?”

Essi laughed lightly, “I’d say yes, with certainty. Though, not for quite a while. I think you may have ruined me for taking any lovers in the near future. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Lambert dipped his head and captured her lips, letting their tastes mingle on their tongues. “Shall I come find you in Skellige?”

Essi hummed, “If you like. I shall not turn you away should you find me.”

“And if you find me first?”

Essi pushed his shoulders back, shifting and rising to meet him on her knees. “Then I shall call for you, just as I did here. Just follow my song.”