#splitting a story amongst multiple books

[oifaaa]

black cat is written terribly in the current run though. like absolutely horrendous.

You are completely right there tbf I don't think the current spidy arc has been that great overall like I'm not a big fan or the set up to the big mystery that takes ages to even start to explain

[theycallmeazalea]

My thoughts #5

Okay, so this is a rant about my opinion about the lmk community, especially the community in the west. This is pointing out the “little” problem I see in that side of the fandom, since I mostly seen more stuff about there than in the eastern fan base.

I wanna add that I am in fact NOT Chinese, however I do have Chinese folklore told through my parents due to one of them being into folklore of mainly Hindu and Buddhist folklore, but still knows some stories of other folklore outside of that.

So, I wanna point out how rather hypocritical the fandom in the west is, specifically about what’s right and what’s wrong there. It’s so weird for me personally about how they treat the characters, specifically the characters who are inspired by actual mythical figures in Chinese folklore like Redson/Redboy, Sun Wukong and etc.

1. thing is about what not to ship and what is okay to ship. I’m going to take Sun Wukong and Chang’e for example.

It’s already established in jttw (a Chinese Buddhist book) that Sun Wukong after the journey was ascended to Buddha hood, it’s obvious what a monk in Buddhism is not suppose to be in a relationship, or have any “mortal” connections in order to ascend to Nirvana (a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth.).

It’s already known that in multiple series of people’s own spin of jttw where Wukong had a love interest, kinda going against the whole “Nirvana” concept that happened to Wukong. The same goes with in Lego monkie kid, where Sun Wukong didn’t ascend to Buddha hood for plot reasons..

Now here comes Chang’e, Chang’e is the goddess of the mood who’s either married and or in love with Hou Yi. In some versions of her backstory, Chang’e was either in a healthy relationship or in a toxic relationship where by in the most popular versions of her story they split up. Where Chang’e ascended to the moon and Hou Yi lived his own mortal life till the end.

But where comes the complicated part, Chang’e in lmk specifically is never said to have a husband. But since Chang’e’s lore she does have a husband, it’s safely to assume that on lmk she also has one. But the info about their relationship in unknown and if her husband is alive or not.

So, in Lmk Sun Wukong didn’t ascend to Buddha hood (so he’s able to be in a relationship), Chang’e probably has a husband and their relationship is unknown. But where the problem comes is about the ships, the lmk community in the west is A-Okay with shipping Sun Wukong while doesn’t find it okay that some people ship Chang’e with someone else. Their only excuse is that Chang’e is married and forever bound to her Husband. This specific part ONLY applies to mythology, nor have I ever seen a part where it was said that Chang’e was forever bound to her husband (if there is proof of that, please do show me). But then the community is okay with shipping Sun Wukong, even though in the myths Wukong ascended to Buddha hood and the community just turned a blind eye towards it because they find the Sun Wukong ships cute.

WHERE’S THAT LOGIC? Why only apply to one SPECIFIC character and not to the OTHER one?! What? Did that “rule” grew legs and skedaddle off the face of the earth or something? Am I missing something? Or is it just because you don’t want a character to be shipped so you gatekeep them in the at most un-logical way?

Okay, another thing. This time I’m gonna be honest with this, Nezha and Redboy..

We all know how both characters are VERY similar, a bit too similar that people confuse the other for the other. Now, Redson and Nezha are both adults in the present of lmk. This is a sensitive topic amongst the fandom about Nezha, because someone accidentally spread misinformation about Nezha. And we all know what the topic was about.

Now anyways, Redboy in lmk is an adult, being around in his early 20’s. We physically saw how he aged, we saw his 2 forms. Adult and child form. And the lmk community agrees that Lmk Redson is an adult, even though In jttw Redboy is seen as a child. Not as any other age. Not adult, just portrayed as a child.

How there’s Nezha, also in his 20’s but obviously older than Redboy and even Sun Wukong. Same story with Nezha, he’s an adult in lmk but instead of only seeing as a child in myths, Nezha is seen as both a child as well as a young adult. Not only that, but Nezha appeared in Hindu and Buddhist mythology. Being named Nalakubara instead of Nezha/Nazha. But the fandom in the west (because of that misinformation) infantilize Nezha, saying he’s eternally a child, specifically a 12 year old.. And in all honest words, from my research and experiences never in my life have I ever heard a god having a specific age, as in I never heard how old they were in the present. Never in my life. I never heard ever about Nezha being 12. Did some reading on many sites and asked many people, I was never told he was 12. Only that Nezha is a youthful deity being at the age of toddler or young adult.

The only proof I saw in the fandom about this claim is somewhat, but easily countered with heaps of evidence that Nezha’s age in mythology is fluid. I wanna remind everyone that Nezha is over 3000+ years old in mortal years. Since he was born is the Shang dynasty it’s kinda simple math to realize what his mortal age range is. Because of how ancient he is, the info about him is scattered throughout the earth. Whereby it’s hard to know what’s true or false, so we depend on more modern interpretations of him. And on modern depictions, he’s both seen as a child to young adult. I remember a post where their evidence is the fact they were inspired by a so called “child god”, which is literally false because the god they were talking about was Maha Krishna and Nalakubara. First of all both figures grew up and had a family, and second just because Nezha was inspired by a part of Maha Krishna’s life doesn’t mean Nezha’s is forever a child because they were only inspired by that part of the story. Because by that logic Sun Wukong is also a child because he was inspired by Hanuman’s childhood.. like it doesn’t make ANY sense.

And I understand why so many people gatekeep Nezha because they don’t want Nezha to be shipped with a canon characters, but to spread misinformation makes you no different from others. If anything use REAL information why shipping Nezha with for example Sun Wukong is weird, because 1 they met when Nezha is a minor and Wukong was at that point an adult.

2. The fact that lmk is not a direct copy of jttw or any Chinese folklore.

The day when the lmk community FINALLY realize that lmk is not jttw is the day I can feel peace in my heart. I see so many people bickering about how “oh not to do that” or “not to do this” because of the fact a character was “a direct copy of this god”. Look, I know lmk is not fully finish so we depend on jttw and fsy about how the plot will go and how the characters back story is.

But to FULLY depend on jttw or fsy for lmk is pointless, lmk has its own timeline and spin of jttw. Which makes lmk already its own story and lore, doesn’t matter if it’s heavily influenced by jttw. It’s still its own plot. Just think that lmk is it’s own AU of jttw. So go comparing a character to their mythological counterpart, just to proof something is still useless. It’s like comparing a bowl of chocolate chip cookies with vanilla chip cookies and say that they’re the same flavor because of the fact they’re a cookie. That doesn’t make sense. Lmk god figures are VERY different from the actual mythological ones, sure their lore is kinda similar but really different. I mean look at Sun Wukong’s lore, it’s almost not the same with the jttw Sun Wukong.

This is all I have to say for now, I’ll probably post more about the troubles in the fandom somewhere in the future..

-

[redysetdare]

Recently decided to update the designs of my Arcane Detectives Club characters!

In order we have: Salem (he/him), Callum (they/them), Simon (he/him), Selena, (she/her), Percy (they/them), Judas (he/him/de/dem), Déjà (ve/vem), Aldric (he/him), and Alais (he/him/they/them)!

Huge infodump under the cut

Henlo these are my little magic guys please like them sghjfd

but really, this is my semi-modern fantasy story that I've had for a little over 4 years now.

the story followed Callum and Salem, two orphans who get sent off to a prestigious boarding school known as Opalwood Academy. Opalwood academy is a school that along side normal school curriculum also has classes dedicated to fostering magically gifted students. Only though with potentially strong magical abilities are able to join the school, which is how Salem and Callum got in. The story followed their school life but most importantly the club they join in the library, the Arcane detectives club.

The ADC originally started as a mystery book group where the members would read mystery novels or look up real world mysteries to try and solve. Though they soon become actual detectives after a spree of bad pranks start happening in the school. The story after that point followed multiple real mysteries that the kids take upon themselves to solve; with new members joining along the way.

The characters are split into 3 groups: The ADC originals, the ADC newcomers, and non ADC memebers.

The originals are: Salem, Callum, Selena, and Percy.

Newcomers are: Simon, Deja, and Judas.

Non-ADC are: Aldric and Alais.

Prepare for some character summaries below in order of the character images above.

Salem Grimmerwold (he/him Agender)

proficiency: Reality manipulation

Class Level: 2

Salem is a 15 year old student at O.W. Academy. Salem was orphaned at a young age thanks to his curse and was sent to live in Rainshine Orphanage. While there he met his best friend, practically sibling, Callum. Due to how he is treated from his curse, Salem can come off as distant to strangers. He tends to speak politely in a disconnected manner which can seem off putting to those around him but once you get to know him you will find he can be quite the goofball.

Callum Heartstrong (they/them Nonbinary)

proficiency: Plant Magic

Class level: 2

Callum is a 15 year old student at O.W. Academy. After a tragic accident that too their parent's lives they were sent to live in Rainshine Orphanage, where they met Salem. Many would call Callum an extrovert with how much they love talking to people but they would be wrong as Callum is really just an outgoing introvert. If you were to walk into their room you'd thing you had entered a green house with how many plants they have - curiously enough, it seems Callum has the ability to talk to them.

Simon Brewer (he/him Cis)

proficiency: Alchemy

Class Level : 2

Simon is a 15 year old student at O.W. Academy. Simon is considered one of the more talented alchemist students in the Academy. He has a deep understanding of potion making, herbs, and magical effects and is able to create potions that most students have yet to learn. Unfortunately, this has made him the target of a few jealous students...

Selena Winters (she/her Cis)

proficiency: Illusions

Class Level: 3

Selena is a 16 year old student at O.W. Academy. She is the president of the Arcane Detectives club, having started it when she was level 2. When she first started the ADC it was a book club specifically about reading mystery books and the such. She works as the assistant at the library and can often be found walking amongst the shelves.

Perseus "Percy" Bronwyn (they/them Androgyne)

proficiency: Animal magic

Class level: 3

Percy is a 15 year old student at O.W. Academy. Percy's specialty is in animal magic but they have been secretly been practicing the controversial magic of necromancy. With their dream to be a veterinarian for magical creatures, they believe that necromancy can help them save more animals - even if the use of it could get them in trouble with the school. Percy also has the ability to turn into an owl.

Judas Ambrose (He/Him/De/Dem Genderweird)

proficiency: Charms

Class Level: 3

Judas is a 14 year old student at O.W. Academy. Judas is one of few students who take night classes at the Academy, which has lead to student's speculating if he is a vampire or not. He is rather skittish and avoids any questions related to him possibly being a vampire, causing rumors to spread more. De doesn't seem all that thrilled being in the public eye, often hiding in deir dorm room and only leaving for classes.

Déjà Vasilis (Ve/Vem Cosmicgender)

proficiency: time manipulation

Class Level: 2

Deja is a 14 year old student at O.W. Academy. No one knows how Ve has such high grades while also slacking off at any given moment. Ve also have the uncanny ability to finish peoples sentences or predict events before they happen. some are convinced that ve may be using time magic to perfect their classes - but of course no one can prove it and Deja sure won't confirm such an accusation lest they get in trouble with the school for the use of a highly regulated magic.

Aldric Gardner (he/him Transman)

proficiency: Magic absorption and amplification

Aldric, while he may not look it, is actually around 500 years old. After being caught partaking in black magic he was locked away in a magical amulet. Passed around as old jewelry he somehow made his way into the hands of two young O.W. students, Callum and Salem. Aldric decides to team up with the kids in hopes that they may be able to release him from his amulet prison. Though, has he really learned his lesson as he claims?

Alais Locke (He/Him/They/Them Demiboy)

proficiency: reanimation magic

Alais is a mysterious warlock who no one recognizes as an O.W. Academy student. Yet, when things start to go missing around the school all evidence is pointing to them. Who are they and what exactly are they looking for at the Academy? (Alais' arc is still a WIP so just know that his story will likely change as i brainstorm it more)

[sonicasura]

@cf8wrk4u-us

If I said Katakuri keep the knowledge of his Shadow Siege to himself, then that would be a lie. He told only two people: Brulee and Pudding. The most trusted to keep it a secret amongst his siblings.

You know the ruckus the Strawhats caused on Whole Cake Island in order to rescue Sanji? Well incidents like this paint weakness for others to exploit. Even moreso when Big Mom is now out of the picture.

Pudding purposely ran into a Puncture to flee as Big Mom's territory been under siege. Whether it be pirates who chose to take advantage or the Marines ready to round up the no longer governor protected pirates. The Charlotte Family is currently in a disorderly mess so those unable to fight have fled.

Pudding accidentally bumps into Bumblebee who went to investigate. She recognizes him from her older brother's story and follows the bot back to base. The former scout nor Corazón expected to meet one of Katakuri's siblings. Everyone did understand her situation though.

Like with Katakuri, Team Bee treated Pudding with respect and kindness. She didn't expect it even moreso when they see her third eye. We already seen that Big Mom alongside a large chunk of her family are quite discriminatory for what they believe is 'abnormal'.

Pudding: You don't think I'm a freak?

Fixit: Absolutely not! There are actually other Cybertronians who have multiple limbs or eyes without being Beastformers and Insecticons. If anything you are pretty unique.

Strongarm: I have a friend back on Cybertron whose got five eyes. She's a pretty cool bot and happily punch someone's lights out if they are being an aft to someone. Bet you two would be great friends.

Pudding may have happily cried afterwards. She's gonna get a lot of positive reinforcement here. Especially when Corazón gives her a book about The Third Eye. For anyone who doesn't know, three eyes or the 3rd Eye symbolizes knowledge, spiritual enlightenment, unification and nondiscrimination.

Something that further fits Pudding with her Devil Fruit being the Memory Memory Fruit. An ability which came quite in handy when helping repair Fixit's damaged memory processor. Pudding mostly stay behind at base to help Denny and the orange Minicon.

Brulee had ended up in the Shadowzone on sheer accident. She gotten most of her non fighter siblings to safety before diving into a mirror. Although a split second had that very escape transition into one found in the Shadowzone. Brulee was obviously terrified as mirrors in this dark area connect to that place only.

Imagine the mirror world like a multistory building. Every world has their own level of mirrors to access, a fact Brulee didn't know since the OPverse only has one while TFverse got two. Cliffjumper found her, suggested she look for Bumblebee, had Night escort the Mirror user out.

Brulee did spook the hell out of Denny by appearing through a new mirror he found on his daily finds. The obvious commotion gotten everyone else at base to see what the hell was going on. Neither Brulee or Pudding expected to see each other so soon after the massive shitshow back in their world. A happy reunion despite the circumstances.

Brulee was given some nice hospitality from Team Bee and often helped out where she could. Her ability to access the mirror world earned a lot of awe from the bots. Pocket mirrors became an important item to have when she was around.

If someone's communicator doesn't work, Brulee can link them through a mirror. A definite lifesaver as one particular mission would've gone disastrous due to lack of updates in a very dangerous environment. Think nuclear power plant with a detonation risk disastrous.

Brulee did have some fun before she returned home alongside Pudding. Some great books to read in her spare time, plenty of pocket mirrors to help aid her dispersed family, and inspiration to screw around with others. You can Cinderella plus a few mirror based horror movies were quite a boon.

[pocketbelt]

The Lost World (Apple Books Classics eBook ver)

It's none too surprising that this was inspired by Jules Verne's Journey To The Centre of the Earth, because in many ways it's damn near the same story, only they don't go underground in pursuit of advancing geology but instead into the Amazon in pursuit of advancing zoology and paleontology. It's not so much the tropes of the genre/sub-genre of "lost world"/"subterranean"/exploration fiction as it is just clearly trying the same shit, more or less, exactly.

Only with infinitely more heaping helpings of odious racism chucked in because of course the English author can't help himself. The black man who refers to the white men as "Massa" and speaks broken English, referring to multiple characters as "half-breeds" constantly, championing phrenology where possible and going for the British victory lap of using Irish as synonym for "cowardly, superstitious brute" (by the allegedly Irish narrator, no less).

Yes, you're going to see this stuff in 19th century and 20th century fiction because it stained all imperial cultures and would only reach its (European) head in the 1930s, but the thing is it's still always by degrees. You can see the traces of such thinking in contemporary fiction like Journey to the Centre of the Earth or Dracula when they talk about people of cultures outside Western Europe or the US, but in those books they are at most seen as quaint or regarded as being noble (especially because the notion of the "pure barbarian" was thick in Western European and the American culture, I recently read an excellent book about the origins and propagation of that tripe), and usually not with condescension (indeed, Journey and Dracula mention often the warmth and hospitality and care of strangers; Journey's one noticeable break is for humour). Indeed, The Lost World is predated by H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds by 17 years, and it opens with a statement that one can hardly scorn the Martians of that tale for warring against humanity in conquest and genocide when the British Empire, whose author and primary intended audience live within, was no different. The thinking of the time was not uniformly Doyle's rancid view.

Even at the time, one can get a mark of the author by how much they lean on the language and how they use it. And oh my Doyle wants you to know what he thinks of anyone with a hint of melanin to them.

Marked are the similarities with Journey To The Centre of the Earth; the narrator who's the youngest and least experienced and least manly of the expedition team and is driven to take part by the woman he loves (this receives significantly more attention in Lost World, only to pay off with "she was a flighty bitch lying to him" because Male Author and also Doyle is going for bingo), the mercurial and foul-tempered professor seeking to prove something that goes against common accepted scientific views, and the immensely skilled hunter who handles the "hard" work. LW splits Professor Liedenbrock of Verne's work into two professors, the viciously tempered Challenger and the more classical arrogant Summerlee, but they simply cover the two angles that Liedenbrock did. It's distinctly noticeable how the stoic Hans of Verne's Journey, a silent and endlessly capable local Icelandic outdoorsman, has his hunting and martial prowess handed to a British noble and all of his other skills and knowledge, such as knowledge of the local land and mountaineering skill, are de-emphasised and then distributed amongst various unnamed and discarded locals given no consideration by the narrative.

The character journeys are much the same (wimpy narrator coming into his own, glory of the professors and hunter, etc), the general progress of the book is much the same:

Decent amount of set-up and build-up; discovering and building upon a previous, largely unknown explorer's last traces

Extensive and sometimes exhaustive detailing of the journey to the destination, including significant discussion of supplies and hiring help and so on

Initial inability to find way into Core/Lost World destination

The arrival there, some chapters of not getting up to much

Luxuriating in the Core/Lost World's preserved antiquities and strange unique elements

Danger segment

Sudden hasty provision of an escape from the Core/Lost World

Rapid wrap-up

What Doyle brings to the table are the thought patterns of a proud imperial citizen and obsessions about race, primarily; in contrast to Verne emphasising Iceland itself and making the most skilled and useful member of the expedition a local Icelandic hunter, all the important members of Lost World's expedition are white British people (the narrator being Irish to some degree being seen as diminishing him at least slightly), the one black man is a glorified slave straight out of the most ghoulish of American South propaganda, the expedition is trapped by the treachery of "a local half-breed" who is angry at the noble English hunter for having killed slave-traders in the area some years before, and everyone else is a greedy or self-serving pack mule at best.

The "big flourish" of LW is not something to do with the dinosaurs at all but instead an extended conflict with "ape-men" so Doyle can have the British tilt the scales in a genocidal conflict against them, being worshipped by the local tribe for doing little but having guns. For this they are practically worshipped, desired sexually by the tribe's women and so on. Many of the tepid and foul tropes of "explorer fiction" and white saviour fiction are rooted here quite firmly.

To be frank, from this and what Sherlock Holmes I've read, I must say that Arthur Conan Doyle's importance and writing ability seem quite exaggerated and vastly overstated. The characters here aren't as fun or basically interesting as Jules Verne's cast (never mind other contemporary writers), his language often veers into HP Lovecraft levels of "I'd kill myself if I got the slightest sun tan at the beach" and there's way less emphasis and interest in the science of things or the actual logistics of exploration. Here he's lapped hard by Vernes (and I haven't read the rest of Verne's adventure novels yet, only absorbed them via adaptations like Around The World In 80 Days) and in detective fiction he's hopelessly destroyed by authors who were born during his early literary career years (such as Agatha Christie and Rex Stout).

And I grant you; perhaps similar odious racism will turn up in things like Jules Verne's Around The World when I get to it; perhaps so! But even then, it's striking that Doyle engineers his scenario to bring it up and centre it in the narrative where Verne does not.

[animeniac-writings]

The Bone Collector - Beelzebub x Reader

Because I was thinking about things and moving bones. My first OM fic and I’m not too confident in how I did, I hope it’s not too bad. 

Warnings: Bones, Bone regurgitation, Cannibalism? brief, Beel being a sweetiepie

Anime Otome: Obey Me Shall We Date

You had finally been able to bring down some of your belongings from the human realm, one of which was a box of carefully wrapped various animal skulls.

It was just a small collection, nothing amazing, but you cared for them nonetheless. A coyote skull you had found, one you had bought, a tiny mink skull, shark jaws of multiple sizes hung within each other.

The boys didn’t mind, they were demons after all, only giving a curious glance or comment that a human would want such things.

“I just think they’re neat.” was your simple answer if anyone asked.

You were putting away a few other of your things when Beel knocked on your door, shuffling his feet and looking rather awkward when you welcomed him in.

After a moment you find he keeps glancing towards your little shelf and looking away making you chuckle.

“You can hold them if you want Beel, I trust you. “ You’re well aware he gets worried about his strength with things, especially if they’re yours.

But he shakes his head no and furrows his eyebrows and you wonder what he could be thinking so hard on.

“I brought you something for it.” Again he looks a little nervous, fiddling with his sleeve and you put your hand on his arm in hopes of comforting him.

He tilts his head back slightly and swallows before opening his mouth, but it looked wrong. His mouth splits open wider than it should ever be able to, with far too many teeth, pointed and gleaming like a story book’s wolf and becoming a gaping maw that should not be.

It’s at times like this, whatever this is about to be, that you are truly reminded you live amongst demons, something inhuman that never was to begin with.

You can see his something moving up through the skin of his neck, and in his mouth you can see something white breach his throat.

His tongue, also Too Large in this mouth where size or impossibility does not matter, pushes forward cleaned bone while Beel reaches up to remove, followed by another, smaller piece and suddenly Beel’s mouth closes and is back to normal.

He stands in front of you in the middle of your room, completely normal, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and managing to look rather sheepish while holding a large, almost cow shaped skull in his hands.

You stand at a bit of a loss, having just witnessed something you are sure no mortal is meant to see and live through.

He holds the skull out to you though and it’s enough to shake you from your stupor, and you finally take a good look at it.

Clean white bone, four frontward facing eye sockets and what appears to be where two sets of nostrils would have been at the tip, angled to each side. It almost reminds you of a bovine skull in shape, but it’s the horns that seem familiar.

They’re nothing special, a few inches high, round at the base and thin and flat from the center upwards. The jaw, which Beel is fiddling with seeming to now see how to set it back together, has two small tusks and an underbite that makes them more visible.

Yes, you’re quite sure you’ve seen someone who might look like this without their scales and meat on their bones.

“Beel...” You turn the skull in your hands examining the shape of it’s horns a bit. “Is this the demon who worked at the ice cream parlor you took me to?”

“I was hungry...” The pout on his face was almost enough for you to believe him, almost.

“Specifically hungry for the one demon who wouldn’t let me get fudge and caramel on my sundae?”

The red on his cheeks deepens and the sweet attempt in his gesture, both parts of it, are not lost on you.

You carefully set both pieces of the skull on your bed, though you’re sure being a demon and able to withstand melting in whatever happens inside Beel’s stomach and it’s sheer weight that it’s likely durable, but a force of habit.

After wiping off your saliva wet palms onto your pants you cup Beel’s face in your hands and the tense anticipation visibly leaves his shoulders when he automatically leans down for you.

You press a kiss to his cheek, soft and short, and it’s more than enough to make him smile giddily.

“Thank you Beel, that’s very sweet of you and I’ll put it up as soon as I get a stronger shelf.” You pat his cheek lightly before pulling away.

He looks like a puppy under your small bit of cherished praise.

“I’ll get you more for your collection MC, don’t worry.” His precious closed eyed smile is worth far more to you than any skulls.

You dread having to talk him out it before Lucifer finds out though. 

[thehollowprince]

TEEN WOLF + THE MAGICIANS

This is about a fic idea I've been fiddling with for a while that I've talked about multiple times. I've put it all under the cut, so that if it's something you're not at all interested in, it won't bother you when you browse the tags.

In order to motivate myself to write again, I've decided to talk about the TEEN WOLF fic I've been fiddling with for years now. I've vaguely talked about it here and there, specifically after an ask game, but I just wanted to explain it in a little more detail.

I described it as Teen Wolf + The Magicians.

That needs some explanation.

This isn't going to be a crossover in the sense that the McCall Pack of Beacon Hills is going to interact with the Physical Kids of Brakebills University. It's more along the line of "what happens if we take the McCall pack and MAKE them the Physical Kids?"

While not the exact world of The Magicians (no Brakebills, no Fillory, etc) I did want to create a world inspired by those things but based more on things from the Teen Wolf universe. For example, the great magical school in this story will be called Eichen, based on the sanitarium that was focused upon in season 3B and season 5 of TW. The Hedge Witches will gather not in safe houses, but will congregate in packs. And, instead of a singular tattoo (the seven pointed star) being used to denote rank amongst the Hedges, I'm thinking of using the different sigils of the packs (the triskelion, the stacking stoned, etc.)

Things of that nature.

Taking things from the Teen Wolf universe and molding them to fit the mythology of The Magicians.

Now for the characters themselves.

Obviously, I'm not taking the characters of Teen Wolf and just forcing them into the roles of The Magicians characters, but the latter will be used as to how the former are worked into the story.

Scott McCall - I was originally going to make him take the role that Quentin does in the show, that of the unlikely protagonist who stumbles into this magical world, to mirror his role on TW, but the more I thought about it, the more I disagreed with that sentiment. Instead, I settled on the other lead, that being Julia. I felt like it fit more with Scott's role of interacting and protecting the different and disenfranchised, the outsiders of their society.

I also went with this decision, because I wanted this story to revolve around a life-long friendship and no two characters had a deeper friendship on TW than Scott and Stiles, which mirrored Quentin and Julia.

Stiles Stilinski - just as I was originally going to have Scott fill the Quentin role, I was going to have Stiles take on Julia's role, for no other reason than Stiles as a character was hungry for more. He was drawn to the supernatural, even at the risk of his own safety. But, the more I thought about it, the more I thought about him as Q, given the similarities between their characters and how it was never enough for them.

One could also say that Stiles is based slightly on Josh Hoberman, given how much of Josh's character from the books was given to Quentin in the show.

Also, given how often the fandom wanted Stiles in the driver's seat of a story, I figured I'd give it to them. Though probably not in the way they'll want or appreciate.

Malia Tate - obviously going to be filling the spot occupied by Kady. They're both wild and badass and that was one of the easiest comparisons for me to make.

In the show, the character of Kady was based on at least two characters from The Magicians books. And in the spirit of turnabout, I decided to switch it up and split the character back into two, with the "Kady at Brakebills" arc going to Malia, and "Kady as a Hedge Witch" going to Isaac, for reasons that will become clear in the story itself.

Kira Yukimura - much like Alice Quinn was the strongest magician, Kira was by far the most powerful member of the pack. They also matched pretty easily in terms of temperament, a core of rage and power hidden underneath the shy and embarrassed shell.

Jackson Whittemore - I went with Penny for Jackson's counterpart to draw inspiration from, moreso the book version than the show version, though TV!Penny's general derision of pretty much everyone matched Jackson's general attitude, especially with both masking a more fragile core.

I almost made the Penny character Isaac instead, because of the whole perpetually angry, tall, and wearing a scarf thing, but as stated above, I found another spot for him.

Lydia Martin - this was almost as obvious as the whole Malia/Kady comparison. Lydia is a Queen B, playing second-fiddle to no one, so obviously she'll be on Margo's path.

The only hitch I hit was Lydia's ability as a banshee, which almost made me make her the Penny character, just for the psychic link, but thankfully I stopped myself.

Danny Mahealani - back when I originally was planning on having Isaac take the Penny role, I originally had Jackson taking this spot, because I needed someone to balance out Lydia and much like Margo and Eliot, in Teen Wolf we had Lydia and Jackson. But once I moved Jackson to Penny's slot, I needed someone to fill the role of Eliot. Enter Danny, someone just as (or nearly as) smart as Lydia, which would fit them both well as upperclassmen of this school, and plus it gives me a chance to flesh out a character that I feel wasn't appreciated in the show (TW) or by the fandom all that much.

Derek Hale - Derek isn't based on any singular character in either the books or the show, but rather I Frankensteined together bits and pieces from side characters in both the show and books to fill out a role for him. But don't worry, he will be very important to the story.

And even make up for his failures as an Alpha on Teen Wolf.

Alan Deaton - Deaton is going to fill the role of Fogg, though not as rude or pessimistic and he won't be the Dean of the college, rather just a professor, but people often overlook and underestimate him in ways that they shouldn't, especially when it comes to him looking out for his students.

Alison Argent - I can't tell you, it'll ruin the surprise.

And others, obviously, but these are the most direct comparisons. Sadly, the Puppy Pack aren't going to be in this story.

As for Fillory, I will have a magical kingdom that our heroes will travel to at some point in the story, but all I can tell you is that there will not be two Ram gods but two *** gods instead. Also, if anyone has an ideas for a name for this world, that would be great, because I can't think of anything. I've just been calling it Weird world.

And that's my crossover (but not a crossover) idea for Teen Wolf + The Magicians. Any questions, comments or concerns, feel free to message me. I do love to talk about my ideas.

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Who’s ready for chapter 1?!?! Woot Woot!

For this chapter, which is only 2008 words, I’ve decided to do multiple points of view (which is indicated by -*-*-*), and go between Paris and Gotham. I hope everyone enjoys this thrilling installment in Safety Found in Red Sleeves.

Chapter 1

Thana, because she would almost always refer to herself as Thana because that is the name her mother gave her and the name her brother knew to be her’s, looked around the overly pink bedroom her new parents had furnished for her. She knew her new parents had always wanted a little girl of their own, a little girl who was of their own blood. Thana looked down at the pink dress in her hands, she was to attend a function with Chloé and her parents this evening and she was to dress up.

Thana looked at her reflection in the mirror, her hair was in a pixie cut with the tips dyed black. She frowned at her reflection, she didn’t look like Thana Todd anymore. She looked like Marinette Dupain-Cheng, with her hair fading back to her normal dark red hair and her face gaining weight in ways she hadn’t expected. Thana pressed her hand against the mirror, just to see if it was real or an illusion.

She turned around and shook her head. She took a calming breath and smiled to herself. “You can do this. Just, think about what Jay-Jay would say. He’d be so proud of you.” Thana nodded and started to change out of her everyday clothes into the pink dress. She needed to get ready faster.

Thana sat at the vanity in her room, pulling out the makeup her new mom had gotten her. She added light pink eyeshadow to her eyelids before putting shimmery white eyeshadow in the inner corners of her eyes. She applied a light amount of eyeliner before swiping mascara onto her lashes. She applied a light pink gloss to her lips and smiled. If Jay-Jay saw her, he’d say she looked pretty.

Thana got up and grabbed a small white clutch, into which she put her wallet and the light pink gloss, before looking in the mirror again. She glanced into her hair, where Plagg tended to hide. “Plagg? What do you think?”

Plagg poked his head out of her hair and looked over her outfit in the mirror. Plagg’s little face split open in a smile and he settled down in her hair again. “You look pawsitively purrfect kitten. Although, you can stand to use more of our colours.”

She giggled and nodded. “I know I could. Should I use the black clutch instead? With the emerald clasp?”

Plagg considered that before nodding. “With the matching shoes. And the emerald necklace and earrings.”

Thana smiled and glanced behind her at the cheese danishes. “Would you care for a cheese danish? I’m sure we’ll be able to find some of that rich people's cheese at the function.”

Plagg dashed out of her hair and went over to the plate of cheese danishes. “You’re the sweetest kitten.”

Thana giggled and placed her white clutch on the vanity table. “You just like getting carbs with your cheese.” Thana hurried to grab the right clutch and transferred her things from the white clutch to the black clutch. She slipped on her black shoes with emerald details, grabbed her emerald necklace and earrings, and put them on. “Okay Plagg.” Thana picked up her clutch and turned to him. “What do you think now?”

Plagg smiled. “Pawsitively purrfect kitten. You’ll be the Cinderella of the ball.”

Thana and Plagg laughed before Plagg finished his danish and flew back to her hair. “Let’s go. Chloé, Kim and Nino will be here soon.”

---

Thana, the shortest of her friends, stood glumly in a corner as her eyes were focused on the screen on the opposite wall. She felt her mood darken further when the international news rolled along and displayed a story from Gotham.

“Yama Lingpa, reporting live from the Wayne conference.” Yama Lingpa was an attractive woman of Tibetan descent, with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. “Mr. Wayne is addressing the world today regarding his sons.”

Bruce Wayne became the focus of the camera, despite the four black haired boys behind him, with an easy smile on his face. “First of all, I’d like to thank you all for being here today. Second of all, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge and remember all of the parents who don’t get their children back.” Bruce bowed his head in silence, an action quickly followed by the rest of the people in attendance. “Finally, I’d like to introduce you all to my sons. One of them you’ve all probably heard of before, as we believed we’d buried him some years ago.” Bruce cleared his throat before motioning for two of his sons to step forward. Bruce pointed to the younger of the two, who bore a striking resemblance to him. “This is my son Damian, who was conceived through less than ideal means. He’s the only one who’s actually biologically my son but that does not mean I love the rest of my sons any less.” Bruce pointed to his other son, older but not the oldest, who’s blue eyes kept Thana’s eyes affixed to the screen. “My second son, Jason Peter Todd, has returned. He’s the one who brought Damian to me, after being kidnapped by Damian’s mother.”

Thana could no longer focus, a gasp escaping her, as she gazed at her brother for the first time since she’d been forced out of Gotham.

“I know. Isn’t he dreamy?” An older girl asked from beside Thana. “I would climb on top of him and ride him like the prize stallion.”

Chloé appeared out of nowhere and cleared her throat. “You do know that’s her brother, right? And no girl wants to hear that another girl wants to ride their brother.” Chloé seemed to process her words for a moment before turning to Thana. “Your brother? But,” she shook herself before placing a hand on Thana’s shoulder. “I’ll go get the others. We’ll go back to mine and talk. Collect some snacks.”

Thana walked over to the buffet-style table loaded with various foods, grabbed a variety of different foil containers, and filled them with the snacks each person would enjoy. She did everything as though on autopilot, barely noticing when Chloé returned until Nino took the containers from her, and Kim, with his red suit jacket, pulled her against his chest. Behind Thana’s friends stood Chloé’s oldest friend, Adrien, and Alix Kubdel.

The six teens walked out of the hall, hushed whispers following them out.

-*-*-*

Jason let the smile slip from his face as soon as he joined Dick and Tim backstage. He turned away from Bruce and Damian, feeling the younger boy grab his left hand anyway. “What did you mean? You couldn’t possibly. Dickiebird, Replacement. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Tim shrugged sheepishly before pulling out the polaroids. “It happened in broad daylight. I’m sorry, I was nine I didn’t know what to do.”

Dick frowned. “I wasn’t even in the city that day.” Dick looked at his little brothers and pulled them close. “I promise, we’ll track her down.”

Bruce frowned and narrowed his eyes at his oldest. “You will do no such thing. No son of mine will be running around with the child of a rogue.”

Jason pulled away from his brothers and raised an eyebrow at Bruce. “Alfred would call you a hypocrite. I’ll call you an ass. Pixie is my little sister and she will always come first.” Jason turned back to his brothers before gently pushing Damian towards Tim. "You're still living in the manor, right? Can you take him there for a while? There are some things I need to take care of before I can take him in."

Tim nodded before wrapping an arm around Damian.

Dick tugged Jason into his arms a final time before letting him go. “You’ll find her.”

---

Jason frowned at the red haired man from his hiding place amongst the shadows.

“Where oh where has my little Alice gone? She was so sweet, so tiny, so much fun to play with.” Tetch’s voice would have sent shivers down a lesser man’s spine, but Jason would never forget the night he met Pixie.

Jason silently leapt down from his hiding place and pulled a gun on Tetch. He felt a sinister smile spread across his face and tilted his head in a rather Joker-esque manner. “Watcha doin’ Hatter?”

Tetch jolted before a crazed laugh poured from his lips. “Oh my little Alice’s white rabbit! So pleasant to see you. It really has been so long, hasn’t it? Since poor old Joker sunk his claws in you and ruined you.” A manic smile spread across his face and he mimicked Jason’s head tilt. “Oh but my poor sweet Alice’s white rabbit has grown up to be such a dick.”

Jason growled and moved his gun to put a round in Tetch’s arm. “Back to Arkham with you. And tell Joker, he won’t get a second chance.” Jason hauled the bleeding man up and off they went.

---

Jason had dropped Tetch off just inside the gates and set off the alarm before booking it in the opposite direction. He systematically checked the city, going over all of the known haunts for street kids before going over all of his haunts with Pixie. He just wanted to find something that would lead him to wherever his sister had been carted off to. He was sitting on the roof of a building when he felt a presence looming over him. “If B sent you, you can fuck off. If Joker sent you, I’ll break your kneecaps.”

The presence, who turned out to be The Riddler, sat beside Jason. “Neither of them sent me. Neither of them would send me. I’m a free agent. However, we have something in common. Our affection for Hatter’s girl.”

Jason turned to look at the rogue. “Hatter’s girl?”

Ed smiled and pulled out a worn photo from his wallet. He held the photo so that Jason could see it and smiled. “She saw me. The real me.”

Jason glanced at the rogue with a newfound affection and smiled. “She was funny like that.”

---

Jason smiled as he looked around his new apartment. He had rented an apartment with three bedrooms, on the off chance he would find his sister again and one of his brothers stayed over because Damian, his little nugget, refused to sleep alone.

Jason straightened his shoulders before straightening his clothing in his closet. He was excited, today was the day his little nugget was coming home. He walked from his bedroom to the kitchen and wiped down the counters again.

A knock sounded on his door before his excited nine-year-old babbled something in Arabic before just opening the door.

“Little Nugget!” Jason smiled and crouched to accept the nine year old into his arms before standing up and adjusting his little nugget onto his hip. “Replacement.” He cleared his throat before looking over at his older brother. “Dickiebird.”

Tim smiled and shrugged. “Do you mind if I crash here for a while?”

Jason smiled. “Mi casa es su casa.” He smiled as his excited nine-year-old babbled at him. “Ya hayati, I’m going to put you down now. Okay? You can either stay here or go find our room.”

Damian ran off to go find their room with excited laughter falling from his lips.

Jason turned back to his brothers and schooled his features. “Before you say anything, I’ve been the only one to show that boy any affection since he was born. Also, he sleeps better if he’s laying down with someone.”

---

The four brothers sat on the roof of the apartment building, Damian on Jason’s lap and Tim leaning against Dick’s side.

“Thank you for being here for me. I appreciate your support.” Jason smiled at his brothers and the four just watched the sky for a while before going back into Jason’s apartment. He would always search for his little sister, but until he found her he was grateful that he had his brothers to help watch his back.

Taglist

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen  @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel

Questions? Wondering why Damian is so, not normal Damian? Let’s keep in mind he was six when Jason joined them and it’s been three years.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, jbsaucy!

Happy belated Birthday, @jbsaucy​! We hope you had a wonderful day back on the 16th, and that you celebrated in style! To bring your party back around, the lovely @mega-aulover​ has written a story just for you!

For this year, I am recently divorced and trying to get the nerve up to get out there. So I would like to request a 30/40s Everlark, post divorced meeting

Jbsaucy

Dear Jbsaucy I hope you had a wonderful birthday. I apologize for the lateness, and I hope you had a wonderful day. This prompt BTW was amazing and I had a great time writing it. It was a blast. Thank you to Norbertsmom for Betaing 

Rated T 

Title:  OFF THE MARKET

-kpkpkpkp-

Divorce sucks. SUCKS.

Getting divorced sucks, being divorced sucked.

But nothing, not the tedious nature of dividing unwanted movies, the fear of root canals, or getting a speeding ticket, compared to dating. Dating, ladies and gentlemen, after being married for ten years sucked royally. 

ROYALLY!

After my divorce, my attorney suggested I get a hobby or join a club. I really wasn’t a social person. Not much of a talker, and avoided any and all spotlights. It was this fear of the spotlight that originally brought me in contact to my now ex-husband, Darius.

My best friend Gale pushed me to do one of those karaoke nights. I panicked and ran straight into Darius. He thought I was cute, and I was grateful he went up with me to the karaoke microphone. He sang and I laughed. The rest is history; the marriage only lasted ten years. But I knew we weren’t right for one another, partially because Darius was a very sexual person, for me sex wasn’t important. I got more enjoyment out of getting my teeth cleaned. He found someone who revved his engine and I got the fica and dates. 

Yup Dates.

How did that happen you ask?

Well, I’ll tell you I followed my divorce attorney’s suggestion. Preface-OUTSIDE OF A COURTROOM NEVER EVER FOLLOW YOUR DIVORCE ATTORNEY’S ADVICE.

With that warning sign, I digress. Taking a deep breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Wait for it... I joined a book club. 

It was the only natural course of action. After our divorce I got all of the books. You see one of the things Darius and I loved to do was go to bookstores. We’d buy all of these books with the intention of reading them, and we never did. We had bookshelves filled with books from the 100 Must-Read Classic Books by Penguin. So after my divorce, I sat in my newly minted apartment with a box of wine and all of these books. 

I was looking at the boxes, my divorce papers jutting out. Amongst them there was a note - with the name of a book club, the real 451 book club, with an address. I called them the Squad 451 or the Squad. The women were a hodgepodge of personalities; the right blend of sweet and crazy. There is Mags, the motherly type. She has boatloads of grandchildren. Then there is her neighbor Greasy Sae  who runs a diner in town. I used to go to her diner as a kid and consume her mystery meat soups. The older woman is bawdy and half of the things she says makes me blush redder than a red bean. Next is Annie, a shy, slightly mad girl who is a librarian. Delly has the personality of the southern bell who wears pink and believes in romance. I’ve known of Delly forever; she and I went to the same high school. 

Foxface,  has one of those names with multiple consonants and vowels but prefers to go by Foxy or Foxface. She is freakishly smart and sometimes, I think she has blackmarket dealings because she’s so secretive. Then there is Effie, the middle aged, tightly wound woman whose book choices are as repressed as she is, like Jane Eyre. And last, but not least, is my divorce lawyer, yes the very same one who suggested I get a hobby, Johanna Mason who is, well, a sex fiend. 

I started meeting up with them, and six months after my divorce, that’s when the ladies conspired against me and set up my profile on one of those dating websites looking for men, for me. I had no idea, and on my birthday, they presented me with their “gift.” 

It was the gift you didn’t want, like a pimple on your wedding day or the runs before an important interview, or bad breath before a first kiss. 

Greasy said that if I didn’t use my, well, feminine - looks around - petals. That they’ll dry up and turn into ugly petunias. I announced sex wasn’t important, and even friged Effie said a lady needed to literally, figuratively, and metaphorically, occassionally let her hair down. 

 I said NO.

I demanded.

I scowled.

Nothing helped.

They created a profile based upon themselves, and yet through describing themselves they pegged me. I was nurturing. I had a sexy edge. I was introverted, and yet mysterious. I was smart, honest, loyal and a closet romantic. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll hunt you down, even after I’m dead. 

They split me up like a kid of divorced parents being schlepped from one house to the other. They set themselves up in teams and each team got to pick my dates. And everytime we met for a book club meeting, I was to dutifully report on the date. Based upon their success, a second date would be permitted. 

It was a simple proposition. 

I was naive. A stupid idiot, or as Bugs Bunny say’s, a maroon. 

Because I hadn’t really ever been out there. 

To be honest, I met Darius right out of high school, at my first college party, and we were married - okay it wasn’t a big wedding. It really wasn’t a wedding at all. It was a spur of the moment, we got drunk and ended up at one of those Elvis chapel impersonators. Annnnd bada-bing. 

I never really dated, so I agreed with the book club’s plan, because how hard could dating be?

 And thus began my nightmare.

I must state, or emphatically note, not all of my “dates,” were catastrophically bad. To be fair, most of the time I wasn’t interested. Delly said I wasn’t romantically pulled. Johnna said my engine wasn’t revved up. Greasy said if the man didn’t make me want to orgasam with a look, then he wasn’t worth my time. I posed this question to the universe: How in blazing blue inferno does a man make a woman...well you know, with a look? Was that even possible?

A hazy yellow fuzz enters my head and my mind wanders. I conjure up blue eyes and translucent lashes that never tangle.  

Sigh.

…. (my brain just short circuited at the thought of large hands)

Earth to Katniss. 

Okay sorry, I spaced out for a little bit, and their words spurred me on to continue my journey. And one year after my divorcce I had stories, no I have battle scars.  To prove my point, the following are my top three worst dates. In no particular order.  

Date Disaster # 1 was with an artsy type at a chique Italian restaurant. He arrived late, and was drunk, high, or both. Then fell asleep on his plate of bolognese. Yup, in his plate of spaghetti and meat sauce. I paid for my half, tucked my tail between my legs and left.

Date Disaster #2 was with a small man with glasses and a massive intellect who didn’t stop talking about flamingos. FLAMING PINK FLAMINGOS. My brain shut down. I didn’t hear the music in the jazz themed restaurant. I didn’t even taste the heat in the gumbo. The only factoid I remembered when we said goodnight was that flamingos were gray when they were born. I couldn’t even tell you how they became pink. The man was the human form of anesthesia for my soul. 

Date Disaster #3 was a nice man. We laughed. And everything was going well. We ordered drinks, a cranberry and soda for me, the bartender special for him while we waited for our table. Turns out he has a milk allergy and the bartender special had milk. When we sat down at the table and we were talking about our hobbies, his stomach began to grumble loudly. He became pasty and then as the waiter brought out our appetizers, he threw up all over the place. It was a good thing that throwing up didn't bother me, but it bothered our waiter who gagged. Needless to say, I burned the outfit I was wearing.  

Those were the top three...but there were more, just simmering to become the top one. And for a time I thought I wasn’t made to date.  But the ladies had faith and they were really trying to choose nice, interesting guys. However, nothing, nothing that I could ever imagine could top my latest date. 

I’m rushing along the sidewalk. I don’t want to be late, but at the same time, I don’t want to tell them how much of a calamity my latest date was, but to be completely honest, I don’t want to miss it. Tonight is also the night the group meets at Mellark’s. The friendly cafe style bakery with its rich and yummy pastries, both savory and sweet. It is my favorite place to meet. Squad 451 meets twice a month in different locations, including one of the two meeting rooms in the library, one of the community rooms in the Justice Building, and on our birthdays, we meet in a restaurant, but the bakery on Main Street is our favorite location. The Mellarks owned several locations. The flagship store was always managed by one of the original family members.  

If George Senior, or the middle son Ryan Mellark is at the helm of the bakery, they allow us to cavort in the shop until close. When his older brother George Junior or their Mother Muriel was in charge, we tended to be quiet, relegating our conversations to the books. When Peeta is in charge, there are free cheese buns and chaos. 

Please, stomach gods, let Peeta be there. I skipped lunch today because I had a deadline. I also forgot my wallet at home. Thankfully, my license was at the bottom of my backpack. I need food before my stomach eats itself. I am starving when I walk into the bakery. When I see Peeta, I stop. His blue eyes meet mine and my stomach flip flops. He gives me a slow sweet smile, before his eyes slide back to the customer who is ordering.

“Katniss,” Delly squeaks, waving frantically.

Somehow, my feet carry me over to the table and there is a plate of cheese buns and I thank every celestial being in the universe. His buns are heavenly. Sitting down, I take a napkin and snatch one.  My mouth waters and my lashes close as I bring the cheese bun to my mouth.  The smell of melted cheese, fresh bread, and the hint of dill, assuage my nose, before I bite into one of Peeta’s coveted flaky concoctions. The combination of the oozing cheese, the herbs and the buttery bread elicit a moan from deep within my being. These freaking cheese buns will be the death of me. 

“Wow.” Peeta’s voice causes my lashes to fly open. 

Peeta is standing near me with a cup of tea; his face and neck splotchy and red.  

My mouth is full of delicious food, but I forgot how to chew. 

Delly is looking between us. Her pale blue eyes quizzical, like when she’s trying to understand a concept or theme in a book.

 “Okay, bitches,” Johanna says, slamming her brief down. “Where’s the rest of the motley crew?”

“Mags and Greasy just arrived,” Delly answers absentmindedly. 

“Hey, Peeta, I need a strong black coffee.” 

“Sure,” Peeta says, all the while staring at me. I finally remember to chew. “Here Katniss, your tea.”   

Taking the paper cup, I can’t help feeling bashful. “Thank you.”

“Peet,” the girl behind the counter calls. 

Whenever Peeta is here, the business is brisk. He is charming. He was always charming, even back in high school he was the most popular guy, not only because of his looks, but because he was genuinely nice. I, like all of the other girls, had a mini crush on him. 

Looking over his shoulder he says, “I’ll be right back with your coffee, Jo.” 

Now Jo is looking between him and me, but hers is a wicked grin, like right before she nails a sleazebag who doesn’t want to pay for his children. I quirk an eyebrow, clueless as to what has Johanna showing off her predatory gleam. 

“Oh, it’s chilly outside,” Mags says.

“It’s colder than Rudolph’s balls outside,” Greasy says, her gruff voice is booming. Several patrons look at her. Greasy does not care. She’s well past her sixties and it’s her motto that she should live each day as if it was her last. 

In walks Effie, Annie, and Foxface, and they all say, “Hello,” in unison. 

The book of the month is actually a YA fiction called, The Fault in Our Stars, about teens with a terminal illness. I cried when Gus...I tear up once more...at the memory. But I know we aren’t going to discuss Hazel’s predicament with her parents. 

“So,” Delly says, bouncing in her chair.

I can’t help but grimace.

“How did it go?” Foxface says. She has an accent, but I can’t place it. 

“He looked like he belonged on one of those erotic books Johanna loves to read,” Greasy says, grabbing a cheese bun.

She’s not wrong. Gloss was a blond adonis, with slate blue eyes. And abs that have a flipping twelve pack, I ought to know, I counted them. The words are out of my mouth before I am aware of what I am saying.  “He really does with a twelve pack,” I say drinking my tea.

“Did you say twelve pack?” Johanna sat up. 

My eyes widen. 

“Wait, why are you blushing Katniss?” Foxface narrows her eyes.

“Did you and he…” Annie trails off. Her doe eyes are wide. 

“Did you have your first sleepover?” Effie leaned in. 

“Or did you dry hump him like a horny-toad dog?” Greasy’s voice bounces in the bakery.

Peeta’s pauses , wiping down the counter and looks directly at me. 

“NO!” My voice sounds half strangled.

Jo and Delly exchange a look. “Peeta,” Delly calls him over. 

Oh, no, no, no, I say to myself, eyeing how quickly I can get from the back corner to the exit. It is one thing to tell the squad, it is another to have Peeta know. I think I can sprint around the chairs and clear the table near the door like an olympic hurdle jumper. 

Peet walks over. “Hey Dells, can I get you ladies anything?”

“Katniss was going to regale us with her latest date,” Delly says.

“She’s going to tell us how she knows her date has Thor’s body.” 

“You’re dating?” Peeta asks, looking at me intently.

He doesn’t know I am dating or rather, being raked through hot coals.

“Oh,” Foxface chortles. “She’s dating.”

“Remember the guy who was texting with his mother during the entire date,” Effie said.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mags saids grinning.

“Only the part when he had Katniss talk to her, and it turned out she was psychoanalyzing her to make sure she wasn’t an ax murderer,” Annie said laughing.

“Or what about the guy who kept on mentioning his ex and cried through the crème brûlée,” Greasy slaps her knee, laughing.

I can’t help but laugh. 

“Man, those are pretty bad,” Peeta says.

I hold up my finger. “No, those are tame.”

“Tame?” His blue eyes are sparkling. “You mean there are worse dates?”

Delly snorts. “Oh there are worse. I am so glad I am out of the dating pool.”  

“Yeah, Gale just loves you,” Annie sighs. 

Delly and Gale met when I joined the book club. And while I floundered, they fell in love and now Delly was pregnant.  

My eyes shift to Annie. “It’s so much easier when you fall in love.”

“Oh?” I say.

“I met someone,” Annie says softly. “He wants to meet all of us.”

I wonder what type of guy would date quiet, shy, introverted Annie who sometimes says things that remind me of that song from those Freddy movies from the 80’s. I shake my head.  Then I narrow my eyes. “Bring him to the next session,” I hear myself say. I want to meet this man, and make sure he will take care of my friend. 

“Really.” Annie clasps her hands.

I nod, but I notice Peeta is looking at me with this strange gleam in his eyes.  “Ah...yeah.” My voice sounds breathy. I frown, wondering why the heck I sound like one of those girls. You know the ones that always appear in the music videos washing cars and dancing on super yachts. Darius was fascinated by those girls, heck, his new girlfriend looks like one of those girls.

The women are chatting with Annie about the new guy in her life.  

“We'll discuss Annie’s beau later,” Mags holds her hand in the air. “I want to hear about Katniss’ date.” Her white hair spills over her shoulder as she fixes me with a look. “So tell us, how do you know Thor has a twelve pack?”

Somehow or another I knew the scrutiny on Annie would be short lived. My time to shine would come, but when I open my mouth to speak I can see a conspiratorial glance between Mags and Annie. And it hits me that they chose this man, because he looked like Thor. I scowl at the women who set me up on this one. Mags and Annie both have a pink tinge to their faces. I would have expected this from Jo or Greasy, but Mags and Annie, well it’s INCONCEIVABLE! 

I begin to speak. “He asked me to meet him at the edge of town, near route twelve.”

“Isn't that where Ripper’s place is?” Effie questioned, and she couldn’t hide her revulsion. 

“Yup,” I said, popping the ‘P’, thinking of the bar that disguised itself as an eatery. It was a seedy diner with cracked linoleum floors, yellowing formica, booths that had patches, blinking lights, and rickety chairs. 

“That’s where he asked you to meet him?” Mag’s sounds outraged. “That place is…is-”

“- a bedhaven for unsavory characters,” Foxface finishes. 

“You're brainless,” Jo mutters darkly. "Ripper's isn't the type of place you can go to Katniss. You should have called me."

As protective as I am about my friends, so is Jo. She's tough on the outside but has a really soft center. It's what makes her a perfect shark in the courtroom. Not that Darius was a jerk during our divorce. He actually wasn't. Johanna was present at the restaurant where he announced he wanted a divorce. Johanna later said it was my face, the vulnerability I tried to hide was why she took my divorce pro-bono. 

“I drove and brought my bottle of mace.” I know what everyone was thinking. The area in town where Ripper’s is located at, made the bad side of town look like a tourist destination. I didn't mind meeting my date there. I was looking forward to a basket of fries. Ripper's had amazing beer-battered fries. 

I've been to Ripper's once. I was with Gale and Thom who needed to score fake IDs. I ordered the fries, since I wasn't there for an ill gotten identification. But let me tell you, those fries. Oh! Holy mother of fries, no other fries can compare. 

Shivers!

I love food; it's why I'm a food critic now. What's so funny is that it was those fries that began my career as Buttercup, the elusive food critic. Back then I was Buttercup, the fussy eater. I blogged about them, no, I lavished them with love. I love my job. I can go into any restaurant, order anything on the menu, blog about it and get paid handsomely. And, most importantly, I can do it anonymously. Not even Darius knew I was Buttercup. He thought I was a boring housewife. Getting back to the fries, I wasn’t deterred from getting my fries.

“So then what happened?” Annie asked.

“He was there waiting for me. He stood up and smiled. And he's massive-"

"Just like a book cover," Foxface mutters.

 "He said his name wasn't Anthony, it’s Gloss.”

“Gloss?” Everyone said at the same time.

“Yup.” I sighed. “It was a sign. I should've left." Damn those fries! 

“So Gloss…" Peeta's sparkling eyes are on mine, his are an amazing hue of blue, like the indigo milk cap mushrooms. "Looks like Thor."  He frowns. "Thor with the long hair or short?"

"Long." The women around me answered as one.

Peeta turned those gorgeous eyes back to me.

Thor isn’t my cup of tea. I shrugged to show my indifference. "Gloss was sporting the Ragnarok look, short hair with facial hair."

 I swear I watch Peeta mouth, "short hair."

"Anyway, we sat at a booth. It was packed, actually." That should've been clue number two. Men at a joint like Ripper's at 8:30 on a Friday night, it was by the highway, plausible. But packed with just as many women. "The waitress who took our drink order could barely hear me."

"Was he nice?" Annie asks.

"He was sweet." Truthfully Gloss was a sweet guy.  He talked about his mother in a positive way, even if she gave him the name that was another descriptor for shiny objects. "He was attentive too. He told me his mother worked in the makeup industry. "

"That doesn't sound too awful," Delly says.

"He sounds delightful." Mags pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose.  The gang is getting tired of the story and I hope they will move on to the reason we are  gathered, discussing the book we were reading. I begin to reach into my backpack because I really hate purses.

"If he's so delightful, why did he ask you to meet him at Ripper's?" Johanna says in her cross examination voice.

I wince as I take out my book.

"Yes, you must explain." Foxface demands.

"It's not nice to leave us dangling." Effie levels a look at me that has me squirming, feeling like I was being summoned into the principal's office. 

"I wanna know how you know Gloss has a twelve pack," Greasy says.

Peeta looks at me expectantly. 

Anndddd were back. I sigh. Will he run for the hills when I tell him? Most likely.

"We were talking about dancing.” My voice loses all it’s warmth. “I don't dance."

This causes a rumble of laughter and giggles amongst the women. Peeta looks confused. Finally Delly wipes the tears from her face and gasps, “You should never dance. Ever!” 

"That poor man’s toes,” Mags says, her shoulders shaking.

“Do I need to know?” Peeta looks between them. 

“I don’t dance!” I growl. The group erupts into another bout of laughter. 

“It was a scheme, a dirty underhanded scheme,” Effie says. 

The guy I was supposed to date was a dance instructor. He used the dating app as a way to drum up business. When the women meet him, he pairs them with guys who were there for a lesson. He paired me with a poor man named Harry. My nerves got the better of me, because I don’t like to be touched. Harry’s hands were sweaty. Harry tried to dip me as per my date’s instructions. I tripped, and in the process his toes were crushed, and I ended up with a sprained ankle. 

When I arrived in crutches to the next book club, well, that was one of those dates that simmers at the surface vying to be in the top three. 

“Gloss didn’t believe me. He said anyone can dance. I told him no, and explained that there are people who are predisposed to fly in airplanes, and some who get motion sickness in a car. “

“What happened next?” Foxface asks, moving to the edge of her chair.

“He went to the jukebox.”

“Oh no,” Johanna mutters. “Did he end up in the hospital?” 

“Is that how you know he’s got a twelve pack?” Greasy questions. The ladies, and Peeta are all staring at me. 

I shake my head. Why couldn’t there be a rush of customers right now? It is calm and I know the odds are against me. 

“Spill it!” Johanna demands. 

“Well, he queued up a song and waited a beat, and then Lenny’s Kravits’ American Woman started blaring. Gloss started sauntering and spun and did the splits on the floor. Next thing I know, the women in the place go nuts. They surround him, like a rabid pack of wild dogs.”

“Wait, what!” Delly exclaims her pale eyes bright, she grips the book in her hand. 

“That doesn’t happen,” Peeta says.

“It does to her,” Foxface said, her eyes shining with ferocity, like the eyes of those women at Rippers.

“Shut it blondie,” Johanna orders. 

“Yeah,” Annie says.

Taking a deep breath I continue. “He started dancing...hips…” my brain flashing to his hips gyrating. “...jutting out and…”

“Ohhhhh yeah,” Greasy cackles.

“Gyrating, his hips gyrating,” Foxface gasps.

With eyes closed I nod. “His hips were doing that all over the place. He then jumped on the table and proceeded to rip off his shirt. He shouted my name and told me his next move was his favorite. He spun onto his knees and slid up in my face before dropping his drawers.” I lower my eyes. 

“What,” Delly squeaked. “His pants?”

“It’s like Magic Mike,” Mags whispers.

I know the movie Mag’s is referring to. I’ve never seen it. “Yes.” 

“Was he naked-” Foxface began.

“-or was he wearing-” Annie cut Foxface off only to be cut off herself. 

“A G-String!” Greasy shouted excited.

I shook my head no. He wasn’t wearing anything, I can feel the heat burning my ears.

“Well don’t stop! What happened next!” Even Effie has lost her sense of propriety. 

“As I looked for an escape. It’s then I noticed  the poster on the wall, for the Slag Heap.” I pause and sigh, “Men’s Magic Friday Night Extravaganza, and Gloss was the headliner. I realized he’s a stripper.” 

And the place erupts in laughter. 

“What did you do?” Peeta asks.

My eyes connect with his.

“I slunk down to the floor and crawled my way out...drove to the hospital and made my sister administer a tetanus shot.”

 “Can I have his number?” Johanna says laughing but her eyes are dead serious. 

Peeta is smiling at me and I grab a cheese bun because they are as delicious as the man staring at me. 

Eventually we do get to the book, and it’s a pretty good discussion. Peeta let us stay until closing. Mags and Greasy are the last of the ladies to leave. It’s just me and Peeta since he let the staff go home. I’m loitering because I feel like I need to explain to Peeta why I let the ladies talk me into dating. 

I’m putting up the chairs on the tables when Peeta comes out. 

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah.” I look down at my feet.

“Katniss.”

“Peeta.” We both say at the same time, followed by a nervous chuckle.

“You first,” Peeta insists, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dating wasn’t my idea.”

“It wasn't?” He raised an eyebrow.

I shake my head. 

“So what happened?”

“The ladies, they got me a year long subscription for my birthday, and knowing I wouldn’t go through with it, they choose who I date...until I find someone,” I can feel the heat rising from my neck and reaching my cheeks, “I like.”

“Really?”

I nod, incapable of speaking.  I cannot stop watching the way he blinks, those darned translucent lashes that never tangle. 

“Dating is pretty brutal.”

“Yeah,” I snort because dating is horrible. 

“My family is constantly setting me up. I went out with a girl who sang through the entire meal. She chose the pasta and sang On Top of Spaghetti.”

“What?” I laugh.

“That was my dad’s doing. My mom’s choice was a lot scarier. She made me do an obstacle course and made me do it three times until I beat the time she wanted me to reach.”

“Wow.”

“I was dressed in dress slacks, a nice shirt, and a tie.” He deadpans, “I even had on dress shoes.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. 

I couldn't help but smile. 

“Dating sucks until you find someone who makes you laugh, someone who makes dancing easy.”

He approaches or maybe it’s my own feet that carry me to him. But it doesn’t matter because when his arm slides along my waist, and the other cradles my hand, I have no fears. There is something familiar with him as I dance with him. A slow shuffle, that has the room spinning but none of it matters because I feel at home.

“Will you dance with me Katniss?” His voice rumbles in my ear and my heart is pounding in my chest.

His scent is a warm heady mixture of spices, dill, vanilla, and cinnamon. 

“Would you go out with me Katniss?”

“Yes,” I answer, and just like that my dating profile goes up in flames. Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially off the market.

[viking-raider]

A Soldier’s Daughter - Chapter V

Summary: Skye goes after Geralt, while the Witcher makes a series of choices, that leads to a cataclysm of repercussions, for multiple people involved.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/OFC

Word Count: 10,877

Previous Chapters: I II III IV

Rating: PG-13 - Witcher!AU, Slow Burn, Language, Angst, Mention of Violence, Minor Character deaths, Fluff

Inspiration: The Witcher on Netflix, with instances of the Games and Books.

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @itsreigns​, @constip8merm8​, @scorpionchild81​, @mylifefallingupthestairs​, @onlyhenrys​, @luclittlepond​, @ellixthea​, @lebguardians​, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn​, @p3nny4urth0ught5​, @iloveyouyen​, @hollydaisy23​, @mcuimagination​, @psychosupernatural​, @sweetlybigdragonn​, @whitewolfandthefox​, @moviemonzy​, @the-soot-sprite​, @hell1129-blog​, @trippedmetaldetector​, @captaingothgirl1996​, @dont8mind8me8eue​, @peaky-marvel​, @desperate-and-broken21​, @monstersnmoney​, @dancingwendigo​, @redhot-mystacism​, @thereisa8ella​, @black-ninja-blade​, @oddduckthatgirl​, @rosewinx​, @henrythickcavill​, @tinabean37​, @hnryycvll​, @msblkfire84​, @romangenesius​, @emelinelovesjc​, @strangerliaa​, @lovieebby​, @pinksdaydream​, @fanfictionaddiction99​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @oh-for-fic-sake​, @sauvage-et-libre​, @mis-lil-red​, @angreav​, @crazyandanonymous4u​, @the-mighty-jellybean​ @henrycavell​, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​, @iam-laiya​, @worshipping-skarsgard​, @thetruthandotherstories​, @ruthoakenshield​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @theonetheycallhannah​, @nina-skyee​, @thatgirly81​, @inanna999​, @suueeeeeee​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​, @beckster07890​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @magic-and-the-macabre​, @stxphmxlls​, @radaofrivia​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @starstruckkittyangel​, @heartfelt-pen​, @stuckupstucky​, @dummiesshort​, @la-cey​, @singeramg​, @queenoftheworldisdead​, @brooklymw​

Geralt groaned as he sat down on the bench at the far corner of a pub in Upper Posada, a mug of mostly untouched ale on the table in front of him.

The sparse patrons dotting various tables, lost in their own conversation and drinks, when the sound of a lute strung up above the murmur of voices, some of the voices dying out as the Bard in the corner diagonal of Geralt started warming up his vocal cords and dove into his first song.

“You think you’re safe, Without a care! But here in Posada, You’d be wise to beware..”

He strummed his lute and slowly moved about the pub, catching a few of the pub goer's eyes.

“The pike with the spike, That lurks in your drawers Or the flying drake, That will fill you with horror!”

People started shifting and giving the Bard dark looks as his song progressed, shaking their heads at him and even a few plugging their ears with their fingers. The Bard stopped by a post, resting his shoulder against it and planting his foot on top of a nearby chair, his eyes focused on Geralt, who continued to ignore him.

“Need Old Nan the Hag, To stir up a potion! So that your lady, Might get an abort--”

The pub patrons turned on him instantly, tossing everything they could at him, bread, mugs and anything else they could get their hands on.

“Abort yourself!” One of the patrons roared, throwing a handful of something at the Bard.

“Hey, hey!” the Bard whined, holding his lute up to protect his young and handsome face from the onslaught. “I'm just so glad I could bring you all together like this.” He huffed, battered back to the corner he started in by the projectiles. “Unbelievable.” He sighed, putting his lute down and stooping to stuff a couple of the bread rolls into his pockets for later.

Straightening back up, Geralt, still staring down at his untouched ale, caught the Bard's attention again. Biting his lip and taking a mug off a tray of a passing barmaid, he dared to get closer to Geralt, oblivious of the vibe coming off the Witcher. “I love the way you just...sit there in the corner and brood.”

Geralt growled and looked away from him. “I'm here to drink alone.” He rasped, his mood had been sour ever since he decided to leave Skye behind at her parents' farm in Temeria, two weeks prior.

“Yeah, okay. Good.” the Bard nodded, not getting the glaring hint to piss off. “No one else hesitated to give me their opinion on my performance, other than...” He pushed off the post he was leaning on beside Geralt's table and helped himself to the seat across from the sullen Witcher. “You.” He finished, rapping his knuckles on the wooden table.

“Come on, you must have some review for me.” He pressed Geralt. “You don't want to keep a man with—bread—in his pants waiting. Three words or less.”

“They don't exist.” Geralt replied, gruffly.

The Bard blinked at him, confused. “What doesn't exist?” He frowned, shaking his head.

Geralt simply blinked at the younger male. “The creatures in your song.” He answered, after an awkward pause and realizing the Bard wasn't going to leave until he answered him.

“Oh, fun!” The Bard grinned, finding it was a game and lighting drummed his hands on the table. “White hair, big old loner, two very scary swords--”

Grunting, Geralt looked at his coin bag as the Bard rattled off descriptives about him, noting the single coin he had left from the job he did in Lyria for killing a Bruxa a few days before. Pressing his lips together, he grabbed the strings of his coin bag, letting the coin drop, quietly leaving it for the Bard and hoping he would get the point to leave him alone, as he grabbed his swords leaning against the wall behind him, stepped around the table and headed for the door.

Smirking, the Bard picked up the coin and quickly stood up. “You're Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher.” He called after Geralt, who only hesitated for a split moment, but it was enough. “Called it!” He yelled at him, grinning, and proud of himself.

The pub patrons twisted in their seats and stared after Geralt, one of them shooting up out of his seat and going after Geralt. “Wait!” He called, picking up his step before Geralt could get out the door. “I have a monster for ye, Witcher!” He said, relieved when Geralt stopped, but didn't turn back to him. “A Devil, it's stealing all of our grain.” He explained, heart pounding as he stood before the Witcher.

“I'll pay you, a hundred gold.”

Geralt turned towards the window that was by the door, weighing his interest, then frowned at the kid. “One-fifty.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You leave no prisoners, so I've been told.” The kid said, holding out the stuffed coin bag to Geralt.

Taking the bag of coin, Geralt turned back to the door and strode out, crossing the swaying bridge that linked Posada to the rest of the Continent and where he had left Roach to graze on the tall grass. “Come on, Roach.” He bid the mare, untying her from the hitching post and led her up the path toward where he was told the supposed Devil resided in the hills.

“Need a hand!” A voice called behind Geralt as he ascended the upward climbing dirt road. “I've got two.” The Bard said, catching up alongside him. “One for each of the Devil's horns.”

“Go away.” Geralt barked at him.

“Yeah, I'll only be silent back up.” He said, not giving in. “I got what you were saying back in Posada. Maybe real adventures and monsters would make for better stories and songs, and you, sir, smell chock-full of them.” He rambled on. “Amongst other things, is that onions? You smell like death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak.”

Geralt paused at his use of the word, heartbreak, which poured salt into the broken pieces of Geralt's heart, adding to his pain and fueling his anger. He looked at Roach, as if to ask, 'should I kill the Bard?' Then, turned to face him.

“Come here.”

“Yeah?” The Bard grinned, naively stepping closer to Geralt, only to be given a stiff punch to the stomach, knocking all the air out of his lithe body and stumble to the ground, onto his hands and knees.

“Come on, Roach.” Geralt said, turning back up the road and continued on, sure that the annoying Bard would get the point to get lost and leave him be, before he did something worse.

But, aggravatingly enough, the Bard didn't get the hint. After a few minutes to recover his breath and get back onto his feet, the Bard was running up beside him again. Geralt twisted Roach's reins around his gloved fist, trying to hold himself back from tossing the Bard over the side of the road that let out into a steep cliff and the valley of Posada below. The Bard babbled the whole way up the mountain towards the supposed location to the 'Devil of Posada', as the Bard was calling it.

“Were I to join you on this feat, to kill the Devil of Posada. I could relieve you of the title of Butcher of Blaviken. I could be your barker, telling the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.”

“Butcher is right.” Geralt huffed, rolling his eyes.

“You mind, if I hop up there with you?” the Bard asked, his feet killing him from walking so far. “I'm not wearing the right shoes for all of this.”

“Don't touch Roach!” Geralt barked at him, sharply, but pulling Roach to a stop.

“No, right. Fine.” the Bard sighed, frowning.

Geralt got down off Roach, noticing the Bard flinch as he did, fearing that Geralt was going to hit him again, which did nothing, but inwardly made the Witcher feel even worse. Skye would have told him off, for being so mean and hitting the Bard for no reason other than being annoyed by him for not getting the hint and buggering off. Sighing, Geralt led Roach the rest of the way up the path and found a sturdy tree to tie Roach's reins to it.

“You know, the Elves used to all this place Dol Blathanna, before bestowing it to the Humans.” the Bard said, gazing around the mountain side. “Then, vanished into their Golden Palaces, in the mountains.”

Shaking his head, Geralt disappeared through the tall grass and brush, leaving the Bard to continue on with his ramble.

“There I go again, just delivering expositions.” Then, noticed Geralt walking off. “Geralt. Geralt! Where are you going?” He called after him, jogging to keep up. “What are we looking for again?”

“Blessed silence.” He rasped, moving between two rock formations and missing the comfortable silence that would fall between him and Skye.

“Yeah, I don't really go in for that.” the Bard shook his head. “Have you ever hunted a Devil before, Geralt?” He asked, wanting to get as much information out of the Witcher as he could, for future songs and poems.

“Devils aren't real.” Geralt huffed, like it should be obvious. “Sometimes there's monsters and sometimes there's money. Rarely both.” He explained, moving slowly as he scanned the area. “That's the life.”

“Then, what are we hun--”

“Shit!” Geralt barked, something wheezed through the air and struck him on the forehead, leaving a deep gash behind, as he retreated backward to the cover of one of the rock formations.

“Act Two begins!” The Bard announced happily, throwing out his arms and stepping forward.

“What was that that hit you? It was like a teeny cannonball from a—oh my gosh” He paused, catching sight of a pair of horns in the tall grass in front of him. “Geralt, it is a devil. I have to see this amazing, this marv--” Another projectile flew through the air and struck the Bard in almost the exact same spot on the forehead Geralt had been, then dropped, like a lead weight, sending up a plume of dust as he hit the ground.

Geralt lifted a brow at the downed Bard, half thinking how nice it was he had shut up, before pulling aside some of the tall grass beside him, and started slowly stalking forward. The bleat of a Goat broke the humid air and Geralt was rammed in the gut, sending him flying backwards to the ground beside the Bard.

“Leave me be!” the Goat-like creature screamed.

“You talk!” Geralt barked, jumping back up onto his feet, stopping the creature from ramming him again, and tossed it to the ground.

“Of course I talk.”

“What happened to you?” Geralt asked, holding the creature down with a forearm to its chest. “Your mother fuck a goat.”

“I'm Torque, a Sylvan.” The Creature barked, struggling. “A rare and intelligent creature.”

“You're a dick.” Geralt laughed, amused by the situation. “With balls.” He added, laughing at him.

“Balls I got from humans, who left them out to poison me.” the Sylvan growled, yanking out a handful of Geralt's hair. “Did your mother fuck a snowman?” He asked, turning Geralt's joke around on him.

Amusement lost, Geralt punched the Sylvan square in the face, bloodying its nose. “You are intelligent, I'll give you that. So, I won't kill you.” He told him, sympathetically. “But, you can't stay here.”

“Neither can you.” Torque replied, and a moment later, everything went black for Geralt.

Skye had zero luck catching up with Geralt, but hadn't let that stop her, she knew she'd cross paths with the Witcher again, it was just a matter of time, patience and listening for the right tales about him. She had heard from a farmer outside of Hagge, who had seen Geralt passing through, on the road towards Lyria. So, she turned herself and Arthas that direction, arriving four days later and stayed for almost two days, asking anyone and everyone, if they had seen the Witcher and found someone, finally, that said they had, that the Alderman had employed the Witcher's help killing a Bruxa nearly two weeks before, but they didn't see what direction he had left in.

She had started to worry, though. Her gold was dwindling, as hard as she was trying to spare as little of it as possible, as was her food source. She had come across a farm just outside of Lyria, a crop of corn growing high in the field, and waited until nightfall to secret herself into the field and picked several ears of it. Skye had also bought a small role of fishing line and a hook, teaching herself how to patiently fish in the streams she came across. Other than that, she'd go a day or so without eating, trying to keep her supply going a little while longer.

Picking a new direction, Skye rode from Lyria to Vergen, opening to get lucky there.

“Have you seen the white-haired Witcher, Geralt of Rivia?” She asked the first person she saw coming into the city, but they just shook their head and went on their way.

Sighing, Skye led Arthas through the city, stopping every so often to ask someone if they had seen Geralt, but none of them had. Discouraged, Skye found a shady spot to rest, the hot day wearing her down. Removing her water skin from Arthas's bag, she took it to the small fountain in a square in the middle of the town, refilling it, then cupping her hands and taking deep mouthfuls of the cold mountain water, sighing as it refreshed her dry mouth, even splashing some in her hot and dirty face, and the back of her neck. Going back to Arthas, Skye removed her coin pouch from one of his saddlebags, pouring the pitiful amount of coins out into her hand and counting them.

“Thirty.” She sighed, a deep anxiety settling into her tired bones. “We have thirty gold left, Arthas. We should have just turned back and gone home. But, that won't help us find Geralt, the pig-headed lout.” She grumbled, putting the coins back in their bag. “A month and a half of trailing him and nothing, but week old accounts.”

“When I do find that dumb Witcher, I'm shoving my boot down his throat.”

She had said all these threats to Arthas before, usually after scouring the last known place Geralt was seen at or rumored to be, tired and tossing on her bedroll as she camped at the edge of town or between cities. But, deep down, she didn't mean any of it, she missed him, her heart only aching more and more, the longer they were apart. It was later that night, while she was sitting in a tavern, slowly nursing an ale and sheltering herself from the Spring rain that had started falling just after noon, when a few drunks started piping up with a song that had Skye's blood freezing in her veins.

“When the White Wolf fought A silver-tongued devil His army of elves At his hooves did they revel..”

Her head jerked towards them as they continued to sing and even got a few of the other patrons to chime in with them.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher O Valley of Plenty! O Valley of Plenty! Toss a coin to your Witcher O Valley of Plenty!”

“Hey.” She barked at one of the revelers at the table beside hers. “Where did you hear that song?” She asked, her hands shaking as she grasped her mug.

“It's being sung in damn near every tavern across the Continent.” the man at the table laughed, and chugged down the rest of his ale.

“Who's song is it?” Skye demanded, pulling out a gold coin and waving it in his face, knowing it would give the drunk incentive to answer her properly, if it meant his next drink was on her.

“A Bard, Jack or something.” He said, bloodshot eyes following the sparkling coin.

“Jaskier, you idiot.” A female sitting beside him snapped, shaking her head. “By far a better lay than you ever have been.” She added with a huff.

“I'll give you another one, if you can tell me where to find him.” Skye said, after dropping the first coin into the man's beefy palm.

“Somewhere near Rinde.” The woman said, arm shooting across the man and snatching the coin from Skye before the man could.

Downing the rest of her own drink and rushing out of the tavern, Skye found where she left Arthas and tore through Vergen and out the gate, riding in the direction of Rinde, like the hounds of hell were after her.

“Ah, Geralt! I heard you were here, are you following me, you scamp?” The Bard asked, finding Geralt standing beside the lake in his hometown of Rinde.

“No.” Geralt rasped, fussing over a fishing net for a few minutes, before tossing into the lake, for the hundredth time that morning.

“Well, I am starving, fancy sharing some of your catch with me for breakfast?” He asked, tilting his head at the Witcher.

“I'm not fishing, Jaskier.” He sighed, pulling the net back in and found it empty.

“Then, what are you looking for?” the Bard frowned, growing concerned by the exhausted look and dark circles on Geralt's face.

Taking up the net, Geralt moved farther down the shore of the lake, looking for a fresh spot. The Bard followed after him, watching him for several moments as he repeatedly tossed and pulled the net in and out of the water, each time coming up empty.

“Talk to me, Geralt, what's the matter?”

Geralt opened his mouth, brain working to form the words that would explain his thinking, on how he was feeling; but failed and said the first thing that came to his mind. “A djinn.” He uttered, laying the net out on the bank and untangling it again.

“A djinn, like a genie?” Jaskier frowned at him, blinking at his friend. “The float-y fellows with the banned magics and wishes, that djinn?”

“Yes.” Geralt replied, standing up and swinging the net back into the dark waters.

“Geralt.” He laughed, amused, and shook his head at the Witcher. “Why would you--”

“It'll give me wishes!” Geralt hissed, startling the Bard. “It's in this lake somewhere-” He swept his arm out over the water. “And I can't fucking sleep!” He yelled, eyes glowing with his anger.

Jaskier gulped at Geralt, eyes wide with surprise at his friend's agitation. “Is this a problem, where you're trying to rub salve on a tumor?” He asked, even more concerned for the White Wolf.

“No.” Geralt barked, but faltered as he started to throw the net back in again. “That's not it.” He added, softly.

But, that was exactly what he was doing.

He had heard about a Wizard trapping a djinn in a bottle several years back and thought nothing of it, sure it was stuff and nonsense. But, since Skye, since leaving Skye, Geralt had thought about the djinn more and more, slowly convincing himself that finding the djinn would be the best solution to the growing hurt he had inside of himself, that was keeping him wide awake at night, or any other time he tried to find sleep and peace. He had convinced himself that wishing he and Skye had never heard of each other before, would be the best for both of them. He could go back to being an emotionless and unbothered Witcher and Skye could find someone worthy of her love and devotion. But, even then, Geralt knew it was nothing but smoke, that even if he could find the fabled djinn in the Rinde lake, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to wish her away from his mind.

Let alone his heart and soul.

“Why do you want this djinn, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, sitting down on a fallen log beside him on the lakeshore.

“Because.” Geralt huffed, he really didn't want to tell the Bard, knowing Jaskier would poke massive holes into his reasoning, without even trying or meaning too.

“You know, my muse and reason for living in this world, the Countess de Stael, once told me, 'that Destiny is just the embodiment of the Soul's desire to grow.' Though, that was before she left me, rather coldly, I might add.”

“Did you sing to her before she left?” Geralt asked, squatting by the lake's edge.

“I di—what's that supposed to mean?” Jaskier frowned, catching Geralt's dry insult.

Geralt paused what he was doing and looked over at Jaskier with a look that said it plainly.

“Oh, we are having this conversation!” He hissed, narrowing his eyes at the Witcher. “Go ahead, Geralt. Tell me what you think of my singing.”

Standing up and casting the net into the lake, Geralt frowned. “It's like ordering a pie, and finding it has no filling.” He told him, bluntly.

“You, sir!” Jaskier barked, wounded. “Need a nap! Are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt!”

Geralt reeled the net back towards the shore and perked up, feeling a weight to it, and pulled it in faster, finding something caught up in the net that wasn't a fish. Squatting down, he quickly untangled the net from around the object and felt a bittersweet elation, seeing the clay amphora with a wizard's seal on the cork.

“It's down—downright uncouth of you, if I'm--”

Jaskier paused in his tirade seeing Geralt standing up with the amphora in his hand, wiping the dulse and grime off of it.

“Wha-wha-what is that?” He stammered, moving closer to Geralt for a better look at it.

“It's a Wizard's seal.” Geralt answered, gripping the seal. “The djinn!”

“Do you mind--” Jaskier asked, grabbing the handle of the amphora and tried yanking it out of Geralt's hand, which was futile.

“Jaskier.” Geralt hissed, tugging back on the vessel. “Give it back.”

“Not until you apologize for that bit about my fillingless pie.” the Bard replied, grabbing the amphora by both handles and struggling with Geralt, who held onto the seal with a single hand. “Take it back, then you can have your djinny-djinn-djinn.”

“Let go.” Geralt ordered him, gruffly, jaw tight, and barely using his strength to hold onto the bottle with one hand.

“No! No, you let go, you horse's arse!” He barked back, giving the amphora one good jerk with his body.

The seal on the amphora came free with a wet pop, leaving Jaskier holding the bottle and Geralt, the seal. Both of them looked between the two objects, waiting for the djinn, or anything, to happen now that the seal had been broken and the urn was open.

But, there was nothing.

“Hm.” Geralt grunted, disappointed.

“Well, that was a bit anticlimactic.” Jaskier sighed, tipping the vase upside down to see if anything fell out. “Or was it?” He asked, perking up, as a stiff breeze rustled through the fallen leaves and trees by the lakeside, stirring through Geralt and Jaskier's clothing and hair.

Excited at the prospect of having a djinn at his disposal, Jaskier rushed to the edge of the water and started barking out orders at the invisible entity. “Djinn! I have freed thee and from this day forth, I am thy lord and master!” He howled above the still stirring winds.

Geralt stood in place, glancing around as a cold chill raced down his spine, his gut telling him something very malevolent was surrounding them, no doubt the djinn, for being locked away for countless years and Jaskier starting to bark out his first wish.

“Firstly, may my rival, Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck with apoplexy and die.” He said, with surprising coldness. “Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with happiness, open arms, and very little clothing.”

“Thirdly--”

“Jaskier!” Geralt barked, grabbing the back of the Bard's expensive and flamboyant shirt, and yanked him backwards, halting him from making his third wish. “There's only three wishes.”

“Oh, come on, Geralt! You've always said you wanted nothing from life.” Jaskier argued, angry. “How was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes, all to yourself!”

“All I want is some damn peace!” Geralt roared back at him, teeth bared.

“Well, here's your damn peace!” He hissed back, smashing the amphora on the ground.

Geralt growled at the Bard and bent down to start picking up the pieces of the vessel, accidentally cutting himself in the process. The wind around them kicked up and a sharp pain seared through Jaskier's throat, leaving him wheezing and struggling to breath.

“Ger-Geralt.” He rasped, tearing at the collar of his shirt. “Geralt, the djinn.”

Shooting back to his feet, Geralt turned towards the lake and thrust out his arm for his Aard, striking the djinn and sending it screeching away. Glancing down at the deep cut on his forearm, Geralt turned towards Jaskier and frowned, seeing his neck swelling, and grew instantly concerned for his friend.

“Jaskier?” He whispered, as Jaskier reached out for him, rested his hand on his back and took his arm, steadying him. “Fuck.” He snapped, watching Jaskier cough up a mouthful of blood.

Not wasting a moment, Geralt supported Jaskier to Roach, got into her saddle and pulled Jaskier up behind him. Making sure the Bard was holding on tightly, Geralt spurred Roach hard in the sides and set out for Rinde at a steady gallop, the sound of Jaskier's struggled and painful wheezes in his ear as they rode.

“Is there a doctor here!” He called out seeing an Elven guard standing watch by the road.

“Yes, yes!” The Elf nodded, taking a puff off of his pipe and pointed to a white tent just behind him with the stem. “Chireadan, the Elf healer.”

Pulling Roach to a stop and swinging his leg over the saddle, Geralt slid to the ground, grabbed Jaskier and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, half supporting and half dragging the Bard into the tent. The Elven healer, Chireadan, was bent over another patient that was laying in one of the four beds in the modestly sized tent, as they burst in. Hearing Jaskier's throaty wheezing and seeing the blood dripping from his pale lips, the Elf politely abandoned the patient he was tending to and motioned Geralt to a bed he could sit Jaskier on.

“What's happened here?” He asked, pushing away the open collar of Jaskier's shirt, eyes wide at the fat swelling of his throat, that looked like the vocal sac of a frog, it was so large and inflamed.

“A djinn.” Geralt replied, looming over the Elf and Jaskier, protectively.

“Like, a djinn in a bottle?” Chireadan frowned, shocked. “It's like a fairy tale.”

“Minus the happy ending.” Geralt retorted, pressing his lips together. “Can you cure him?”

“Oh dear.” the Healer gasped, Jaskier pitifully grasping and pawing at him as he continued to examine his throat.

“What?” Geralt hissed, not liking the Elf's tone or facial expression.

“I promise you, that I have the best medical education and training here in Rinde. But,...” The Elf started to explain to them both, deeply concerned. “these are magical injuries. I can help the pain.”

Jaskier nodded his head at that idea.

“But it's like..”

“Putting salve on a tumor?” Geralt asked, lifting brow at Jaskier.

“No.” Jaskier rasped and wheezed, shaking his head at the Witcher.

“His throat has been attacked by the djinn.” Chireadan elaborated to Geralt. “If the magic isn't halted, soon enough, it will spread.” He picked through various bottles of dried herbs and liquids, pouring a few into a small glass cup. “He can die.” He said bluntly, not wishing to sugar coat it.

“Fuck, Geralt!” Jaskier whined, frightened.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier's arm and laid his hand on his back, trying to comfort him the best way he could. “We won't let that happen.” He said with an awkward assurity.

“Here, drink this.” Chireadan held the elixir to Jaskier's lips, helping him carefully swallow it down.

Jaskier groaned and whimpered as he sipped down the foul tasting solution, making his throat feel like he was drinking liquid fire. Geralt stared down at him, frowning, as he worried, and mentally beat himself for being so reckless. Everything he feared would happen, was happening. First, he'd hurt Skye by breaking her heart and abandoning her, then in his selfish quest to rid himself of the agony caused by his own ridiculous mistakes and choices, it ended up backfiring, and catching poor Jaskier in the crossfire. He had wounded the love of his life and just might have killed his best friend.

The weight of his choices since leaving Kaer Morhen were crushing him down more and more.

“You'll need to go to another town, to find a mage, who can cure him.” Chireadan said, breaking through Geralt's mental cloud of guilt.

“There's no mage here?” Geralt frowned, brow deeply creased.

“The town official said, they are dangerous.” The Elf shyly replied, biting his lip and unable to look Geralt in the eye.

“What aren't you saying?” Geralt pressed, narrowing his eyes at the healer. “Tell me.” He added in a low rumble.

“There is only one mage, I was tasked with bringing this mage in. But,” He paused again, and only continued with Geralt's threatening step forward. “I was unable to capture them, I was incapable of infiltrating certain defenses of theirs. So, the mayor had another do it, and has the mage locked in his home.”

“That was so fucking hard, was it?” Geralt snapped, hauling Jaskier to his feet, and starting for the flap of the tent.

“Wait.” Chireadan snapped, stopping Geralt from leaving the tent. “You have to be careful, the mage is rather cunning and malicious.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, he wasn't afraid of mages, he'd dealt with hundreds of them in his life, one more won't do him any harm. “Right, I'll go find him.”

With a sigh of relief, Skye finally made it to Rinde, only stopping long enough to allow Arthas to rest and be watered. The ordinary five day trip from Vergen, only took Skye three, bound and determined to catch up with Geralt before he could vanish into thin air again.

“Ms, you can go no farther!” a guard said, stopping Skye at the gate.

“What?” Skye snapped, frowning at him. “Why not?”

“It is too dangerous, you must turn back.” He told her, waving her away. “I am sorry.” He added, but Skye didn't move.

“Why is it dangerous?” She demanded, leaning forward in the saddle.

“There is a manic Witcher on the loose, the officials are trying to restrain him, before his rampage endangers anyone else in the town.”

Skye blinked at him, mouth hanging open and slowly turned Arthas away from the guard and gate. “Geralt, what the hell are you doing?” She frowned and rode a little ways away, out of sight of the guard.

Hopping down from Arthas's saddle and tying him to a tree, Skye snuck around, trying to find an opening or unmanned gate into Rinde, so she could get through. Crouching behind a low wall, Skye watched the guard stationed at the gate she had just tried to get through, stopping another person trying to enter Rinde. Taking the opening, she quickly ran for the gate, slipping through and dodging behind a nearby building as the guard turned back towards the gate. Checking to see if the coast was clear, Skye started moving through the mostly empty streets of the ordinarily bustling town of Rinde.

She heard a loud ruckus coming from a nearby shop, its doors busted open and the sounds of screams of help and pain coming from it. “What is the chance?” Skye huffed to herself, rolling her eyes and heading towards the shop, the Pawnbroker's, read the sign above the door.

Lo and behold, there was the infamous White Wolf, having obviously smashed nearly everything in the Pawnbroker's shop and now had said Pawnbroker, trapped in a corner, where he was mercilessly kicking him between the legs. Even Skye winced at each of the full strength kicks to the poor man's genitals.

“Help me!” The Pawnbroker howled, shaking in agony and fear, as he saw Skye standing there, mouth hanging open.

Snapping out of it, Skye advanced on Geralt. “Geralt, stop!” She barked, wrapping her arms around one of his and yanking as hard as she could. “Stop this, Geralt!” She begged him, giving up on pulling him and tried pushing him sideways, only getting a similar outcome.

“This isn't you, Geralt!” She screamed, punching him in the shoulder and side. “Please!” She pleaded with him as he continued to kick the Pawnbroker, acting as if her blows were nothing more than the pathetic bites of a flea.

“Motherfucker!” She howled, managing to wedge herself between Geralt and the Pawnbroker, blocking a couple of the kicks with her own body, bruises forming within seconds after each blow. “Come on, Geralt!” She panted, frantically searching his face.

His eyes were glassed over, face set in a snarl of anger, yet somehow blank and distant.

“What's happened to you?” She whined and hissed as she blocked another blow, punching him in the chest a few times.

“Magic!” The Pawnbroker screamed, as Skye missed a blow and he got another kick between the legs. “That bitch of a mage has taken control of his mind with her vile magic.”

Skye's shoulders dropped, “Not again.” She sighed, then slapped Geralt across the face, hoping it would snap him out of it, but it only seemed to anger him more and shift his full focus onto her. “Oh fuck.” She whimpered, gulping up at him.

Geralt grabbed the front of Skye's shirt, yanking her against his heaving body, then twisted sideways and shoved her away; sending Skye flying through a bank of shelves that crashed down on top of her as she landed, knocking her out. His influenced attention losing interest in both the Pawnbroker and Skye, and turning on his heels, Geralt strode out of the Pawnbroker's shop and stormed towards his next target. Whining, the Pawnbroker gingerly crawled out of the corner and towards where Skye was laid out, a trickle of blood streaming down her forehead, from a cut at her hairline and above her left eye.

“Girl.” The Pawnbroker groaned, gingerly shaking Skye, half terrified she was dead.

“Kobus!” A voice screamed out, as a soldier filled the broken doorway of the shop.

“Here, Berg.” The Pawnbroker, Kobus, shouted back, still trying to stir Skye.

“Who is she?” Berg asked, picking his way through the ruined shop.

“I don't know.” Kobus responded, pushing away the blood matted hair on Skye's face, trying to see how bad the wound was. “She took some of the punishment the Witcher was giving me, then he tossed her into my shelves.” He explained, wincing at the nasty gash.

“Here, splash her with this.” Berg said, taking a water skin from his belt and handing it to Kobus.

Uncorking the water skin, Kobus tipped it upside down and poured all the water out of it, over Skye's face. With a sputter, Skye came back around, coughing as some of the water went in her nose, and tried sitting up, woozy and aching. She looked at the two men standing over her, recognizing the Pawnbroker, but not the other man.

“Who are you?” She asked, finally managing to sit up.

“I could ask you the same.” Berg replied, lifting a suspicious brow at her. “What is your relation to the Witcher?” She asked.

“He owes me something important.” Skye replied, stumbling to her feet and leaned against the Pawnbroker's counter.

“And what would that be?” Berg pressed her, narrowing his eyes.

“That's my personal business.” She snapped, gingerly touching the cuts on her face. “Looks like he's going to owe me a hell of a lot more, when this is all over.” She added to herself, pushing off the counter.

“I don'--”

The sound of screams in the streets stopped Berg from interrogating Skye further, all three of them stumbling out of the shop at the sound of them. Skye groaned, rolling her throbbing eyes back as she watched Geralt forcefully drag another man out of his shop, the Apothecary, it looked like, and tossed him into the middle of the street. Nabbing the Apothecary, before he could crawl away from him, Geralt hauled the Apothecary up onto their feet, yanked their belt free from the loops of their trousers, which fell down around his ankles, and promptly started thrashing the Apothecary's ass with the belt.

Skye, Kobus and Berg's mouths dropped to the cobblestone street as they watched him spank the poor Apothecary.

“Witcher!” A voice yelled and an Elf came running into view and towards Geralt, trying to stop him from doing any further damage.

Skye tried to run forward, but Berg grabbed her around the waist, holding her back. “Arrest them!” Berg yelled to several other guards, who were likely standing around with slack jaws, but they quickly jumped into action, seizing the Elf and, after a mild struggle and a blow to the back of his head, subdued Geralt.

The soldiers carried Geralt and the Elf away, and Berg turned his attention back to Skye. “What are your dealings with the Witcher?” He asked her again. “Be truthful this time, or you will be joining them in their cell.” He warned her.

“I hired the pig-headed lout to kill a drowned dead on my farm and he took the money I paid, then ran.” Skye hissed, hotly. “I want it back!” She told him, repeating the same twisted lie she had been telling anyone that asked, it had become second nature over the last several weeks.

“Well, you won't be getting your money back from that Witcher.” Berg huffed, letting her go. “He's attacked two of the Rinde council members.”

“And he'll be hanged for it, too!” The Pawnbroker growled, lip twitching and stood in a slight hunched position, hand resting gingerly on his wounded crotch.

Skye let out an angry and disgruntled huff, despite her stomach twisting into nauseating and icy knots. “As long as the jerk gets what he deserves for taking liberties with people.” She spat out, feeling her knees shake as her mind raced to figure out a way to save Geralt from the gallows.

“Geralt!”

“Skye.”

“Geralt!”

“Skye.”

“Ger—wake up!”

“Skye?”

“G—wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Hm.” Geralt groaned, the sound of Skye calling him slowly fading and changing, until he opened his eyes, a blurry vision of someone in front of his face, until it cleared. “Chireadan?” He frowned at the Elf healer.

“At long last.” Chireadan replied and stepped back from Geralt, the tinkling sound of chains following his movements.

Geralt looked around the strange vaulted and brick ceiling and walls, feeling the tight iron clasped around his wrists. “Where are we?” He asked, his body throbbing as he laid on the cold, hard floor of the dungeon cell, before sitting himself up.

“The spa.” Chireadan replied, irritated. “Where do you think? I hope your rampage was well worth it.” He added, more angrily.

“Rampage?” Geralt frowned, steadying himself. “What did I do?”

“Where do I begin?” the Elf asked, lifting his brows at the Witcher. “You attacked a Pawnbroker in his shop, kicking him in the delicate places.” He explained, as Geralt moved about the cell.

“Hm.” He grunted, shaking the secure bars on the windows.

“You dragged out the Apothecary, yanked down his pants and thrashed his arse with his own belt.” Chireadan continued, as Geralt shook the cell door. “Both are on the town council, that are trying to overthrow the mayor and kick out the mage you sought help from.”

“Do you remember none of this?” He asked, once Geralt gave up on trying to find a way out.

“Like a faded dream.”

“Your punishment will be passed by the very members you attacked,” Chireadan said, grimly. “It's more than like to be death.” He added in a more somber tone. “By hanging.”

Geralt sighed and shook his head, “That's one way to get some peace.” He mumbled, sitting back down on the floor, his back against the wall, literally and figuratively.

“Why did you go to the mage after I told you not too?” Chireadan berated him, shaking with anger. “It's like you thought the scorpion was more beautiful than the spider, because of its lovely tail!”

“You didn't exactly tell me who she was.”

Chireadan relaxed, knowing that getting angry at their situation wasn't going to get them out of it. “I admit I could have warned you better about Yennefer.”

“You're under her spell, aren't you?” Geralt rasped, looking the Elf in the eyes and reading his body language.

“No.” Chireadan shook his head, tired and defeated. “It's a simple problem of body chemistry.” He admitted, begrudgingly.

Geralt blinked at him, tilting his head forward. “You're in love with her?”

“Yes.” He nodded, biting his lip. “I believe we both understand each other now.”

An opening door reverberated through the brick dungeon and the sound of steps approaching echoed towards them. Geralt and Chireadan stood as the owner of the steps appeared in the arched doorway that opened into a room to their cell.

“Ah, fuck.” Geralt grumbled under his breath seeing the guard he knocked out, so he could gain access to the Mayor's house and get Jaskier to the mage, Yennefer, before he died.

“You remember me, Witcher?” the Guard asked and leaned his forehead between the cell bars, grinning at Geralt.

Geralt pressed his lips together and smiled tightly back, giving the guard a soft nod of his head.

“I did not know you were a Witcher, last we met.” the Guard chuckled, his expression smug. “I've always wanted to play with one of you, and it looks like I get to, before we hang you in the morning.”

Skye had stayed behind Berg from a safe distance as he left the main area of Rinde. She knew he had to be someone of importance since he could order the soldiers around without being questioned. So, she trailed after him and did her best not to get caught or draw any attention to herself.

Ducking into a side alley, Skye pressed her back flush to the wall as Berg stopped and looked around, before entering a building two doors down from Skye's hiding place. Calming her heart, Skye slipped back out onto the walkway and quickly made her way to the door Berg vanished into, pressing her ear to the smooth and worn wood. Hearing the faintest muffled sounds through the door, Skye carefully opened it and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Scanning the plastered and river rock room, Skye tiptoed towards the only other door there was, behind a counter and large desk. The door was propped open and creaked as she tried pushing it open, making her wince, before she squeezed her body through the available crack, the door complaining as she did. Skye stood glued to the wall beside the door, heart pounding, as she expected Berg or someone else to come into the hall and find her there. Luckily, it didn't seem like anyone heard the door, or anyone was around at all, but she knew at least Berg had to be, there was nowhere else for him to be in the building.

Tiptoeing slowly over the slate flooring and taking one careful step after another, mindful to the squeak of her leather soles as she did, Skye found there were five arched doorways along the hall she was in, two to the left and three to the right. Biting her lip, Skye poked her head around the first doorway on the left and found an empty and shabby office, then moved across the hall and peeked into the first doorway on the right, finding an empty cell. Crossing to the second doorway on the left, she found another empty cell, then moved across the hall again, to the middle doorway along the right side of the hall, but froze, hearing the soft echo of a voice, Berg's voice.

“I did not know you were a Witcher, last we met.” Berg was saying.

Biting her lip, Skye zigzagged across the hallway until she made it to the last doorway on the right, she squatted down and carefully peeked around the corner. She saw Berg standing at the cell's bars, the Elf that had tried stopping Geralt in the street, then Geralt himself, who looked like he had snapped out of the trance the mage had put him under.

“I've always wanted to play with one of you, and it looks like I get to, before we hang you in the morning.” Berg told Geralt, sounding extremely excited about the prospect.

Skye jerked and slapped a hand over her mouth, hearing the door at the end of the hall start to open. Thinking and moving quickly, Skye ran down the hall and dove into the doorway of the closet cell, just as steps came up the hall, going towards Geralt and the Elf's cell, the jingle of keys thumping against the new person's thigh.

“You asked for the keys, Master Berg?” the person asked, stopping in the doorway and lifting the keys from the loop of his belt.

“Yes, Daren.” Berg nodded, grinning maliciously at Geralt and stepping away from the cell door.

Daren stepped forward, flipping through several of the keys until he found the one for Geralt's cell and opened it for Berg. Stepping inside, Berg ordered Daren to lock the door again behind him.

“I'll call you, when I've finished with the Witcher.” Berg told him, flexing and popping his gloved fingers.

Daren locked the cell and went to the little office Skye had seen on her inspection of the hallway. Listening carefully, Skye heard the scrape of the wooden chair legs on the slate flooring and Daren's groan as he lowered himself onto the chair. Taking the cue, Skye crouched and slowly crawled into the hallway and along with wall, back to Geralt's cell, peeking around the door as Berg sized up Geralt, who was unfairly shackled to a short chain, fastened to an anchor in the floor and clasped around the wrists, there was no way for Geralt to fight back or really defend himself against Berg. Berg slowly bent down and grabbed the chain to Geralt's cuffs, wrapping a bit of it around his hand and yanked Geralt towards him, using the forward momentum to drive him knee into Geralt's stomach, and unable to properly catch himself as Geralt fell, hit the ground face first; making Skye wince.

Berg grabbed the back of Geralt's shirt and pulled him up onto his knees. “What's the difference between a Witcher and a tub of dung?” He asked, then kneed Geralt in the face.

Geralt groaned at the blow, wobbling on his knees, but started laughing and nodded his head. “I know that one.” He chuckled, amused.

Yanking him to his feet, Berg punched Geralt in the kidney, turned him around and struck him across the face, sending him stumbling back into the cell bars. Skye watched Geralt's beating with a twisted heart and hopelessness as she tried to figure out how to get him out of there. But, the answer came for her, literally. So consumed and distracted by watching Berg beating Geralt, Skye missed the steps coming up behind her, until a hand twisted into the back of her shirt, making her yelp as she was pulled clear off her hands and knees, and slammed against the brick wall by the doorway. Daren pinned Skye to the wall by the shoulders, his face so close to hers, the tip of their noses brushed.

“Who are you?” He hissed, hot breath wafting over Skye's face.

“Who are you?”

She echoed back, blinking at him as her hand slowly moved towards her scabbard and her sword, but her face paled, when she touched her bare thigh, realizing she had forgotten her sword on Arthas's saddle outside of Rinde. Daren felt the movement of her hand through her shoulder and glanced down, chuckling, when he realized what had caused her to go ashen, and met her eye again.

“Forget something?” He teased her, smugly.

“Not really.” Skye replied, then drove her knee up into his groin, causing him to howl at the top of his lungs.

The three men in the cell heard his yelp of pain and froze, heads snapping to the doorway.

“Daren, what is all that!” Berg yelled out to his deputy, but didn't receive an answer. “Daren!” He barked, growing heated as Daren didn't answer him or appear. “Daren!”

Daren stood up, looming above Skye as he did, chuckling, despite his pain, at her audible gulp at seeing how big he actually was. She tried kneeing him again, but Daren blocked it with his hands and elbowed Skye sharply in the gut, driving all of the air out of her lungs and leaving black, flashing spots in her eyes and her still throbbing head spinning. Grabbing the front of her shirt, Daren snapped Skye off the wall and took a step back.

“Aye, right here, Berg!” He finally called out to him, who had kept shouting for him. “Looks like we have a little sneak.” His laugh was raspy as he shoved Skye backwards into the room.

Tripping over her feet, Skye fell backwards and hit her head on the slate, gasping with pain and getting more spots in her eyes. Geralt was leaning his shoulder against the brick wall, trying to take advantage of Berg's pause in beating him to catch his breath and prepare himself for whatever else the guard was going to treat him too. But, looked up, when the deputy finally answered Berg and shoved in what had been keeping him so long. He felt his stomach give out, seeing Skye roughly shoved into the room and the sick smack of her head hitting the ground, his mouth hung open as he stared at her, shocked to see her there, and in such a sorry state. She had blood caked into her hair and drying down the side of her face, and covered in cuts and painful looking bruises.

“Her again!” Berg barked, stepping up to the cell bars, to get a closer look at Skye.

“Again?” Daren frowned at his boss.

“Yeah, she was in the square, when the Witcher was on his spree.” He explained, jabbing a thumb behind him to Geralt. “She even tried stopping him from beating Kobus. Ended up taking most of it herself.” He chuckled, amused.

Geralt's eyes flared with shock, hearing that Skye had tried getting between him and the Pawnbroker, realizing that several of her wounds and marks were from him, and that he hadn't dreamed of her calling his name, she had actually done so.

“What is your business with this harlot, Witcher?” Berg asked, turning back to Geralt, then saw the look on the Witcher's face. “Oh, you know her.”

Geralt's face went stony instantly, trying to guard against anything Berg could use with his and Skye's connection, to further harm him, and ultimately, Skye. But, it was too late, Berg had seen the expression on Geralt's face and in his golden eyes. The two guards took infinite amusement out of this new development, glancing at Skye and Geralt, than at each other. Berg leaned down and picked up Geralt's chain again.

“A Witcher with feelings.” He mused, a sick and sinister grin on his bearded face. “How sweet. I wonder how much he feels, Daren.” He inquired of his partner.

“We could find out.” Daren smirked, understanding Berg's hint as he leaned over Skye, who was starting to come back around, having momentarily lost consciousness.

Daren moved around to Skye and drove the blunt and rounded tip of his worn boot into her ribs, causing her to cry out and roll onto her other side, curling up to try and protect herself, tears rolling down her cheeks. Geralt jerked against his shackles and Berg, instinctively trying to get to Skye, despite a locked cell door between them, halting his progress to protect her.

Laughing, Berg slowly reeled Geralt in by his chain. “What is vile..” He pulled the chain in faster. “deviant and repulsive?” He asked, suddenly yanking Geralt forward and punching him across the face, sending Geralt spiraling backwards and to his knees, facing Skye.

“A Witcher without a nose.” He laughed, taking great pleasure in the tandem torture.

Geralt gulped down the thick saliva in his mouth, swaying back and forth on his knees, blood dripping from a split lip and a gash just below one of his eyes. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his vision fuzzy as he helplessly watched Daren continue to assault Skye. She whimpered as another boot tip connected to her spine and kidneys, trying to curl up and protect herself the best she possibly could. But, Daren wasn't having any of it, he straddled Skye's body, grasping her by the shoulder and pressed her down onto her back, forcing her to uncurl with a blinding slap across the cheek, that made her ears ring and left a bloody split across her bottom lip.

Skye shook her head, trying to relieve some of the agonizing pain in her face and head. Daren started to strike her again, when she pulled her knees up towards her shoulders and kicked out both feet at the same time, connecting to his chest and sent him flying backwards into the wall behind him and down to his hands and knees. Geralt couldn't help the smirk on his face, the pride he felt, as Skye defended herself, but it was short lived, when Berg rammed his foot into Geralt's back knocking him flat to the ground, groaning as he again went face first.

“Is that your little whore, Witcher?” Berg rasped, pressing his heel down on the back of Geralt's neck. “How much you must have paid her, that she'd follow you so far and want to try and rescue you.” He taunted him, stomping on Geralt's back.

“She must be good in bed.”

“Not when I finish with her.” Daren growled, using a bench against the wall to pull himself back onto his feet.

Skye was laying splayed on the floor, trying to recover herself, as Daren got up and advanced on her. She looked up at the domed stone ceiling, trying to muster any amount of energy to fight back and defend herself against whatever it was the Redanian guard had in his mind. Geralt shuffled and carefully pushed himself back up onto his knees, spent and battered from everything he had been through since finding the djinn in the Rinde lake, from heartbreak, to almost killing Jaskier, who he hadn't seen since the mage, Yennefer, had healed him and managed to get control of Geralt's mind, to send him on a rampage to avenge and payback the people that had tied to ruin whatever plans she had going. Now, there was Skye, the biggest surprise since he arrived in Rinde three days before, laying out on the floor as bloody and exhausted as he was. His fear spiked seeing Daren advance on her, grabbing her by the ankles and yanking her to him so hard, her arms went over her head, the rough flooring scratching up her back as her shirt rode up.

“This is it, Witcher.” Berg said, out of breath as he stood behind Geralt, pulling a long club from his belt.

Daren leaned over Skye and wrapped his hands around her throat, she gurgled and choked around his broad and meaty palms, gripping and clawing at his wrists and arms, feet pathetically flailing between his wide spread and planted legs. Geralt watched her face start to change colors, a white-hot anger broiled up inside of him, tensing up and swelling his already massive and thickly muscular body, angry at the audacity of Daren to put his hands on Skye, furious that he couldn't get to him and snap his measly neck and save Skye, before it was too late.

“Any last words, Witcher?” Berg asked, slapping the club in his palm, smugly. “Make them good.” He chuckled.

Geralt growled deep in his throat and chest, hands squeezing into fists as he rested back on his heels. “I want you to burst, you son of a whore.” He hissed, roughly.

An unnatural breeze stirred up in the otherwise stagnant cell and Berg's back stiffened, his mouth falling open and his stone-blue eyes bulged out of their sockets. With a look of terrified shock and horror on his face, the pressure inside Berg's head expanded, until it popped like a water balloon, spraying blood and matter on the walls and the side of poor Chireadan's face as he stood there behind him, watching all the events with a dumbfounded and helpless shock. Chireadan blinked several times, trying to keep himself together as he felt the warm blood, skull bits and brain matter slide down the side of his face and neck, an eye watering lump of hot nausea rising up in his gullet, but he managed to shove it down and keep himself from fainting.

“You--” He shook his head and gulped down the persistent nausea again. “You are the-the one with the...wishes.” He said, around the lump fighting to get out of his throat.

Geralt's mouth hung open as he yanked up the black sleeve of his shirt, seeing an identical cut on his forearm above the first one. He realized now, that whoever removed the seal from the amphora, was the person that had control over the djinn. That the first cut to his forearm was caused by him, angrily, telling Jaskier that he had just wanted some peace, he had caused the djinn to magically attack Jaskier's throat, to shut up him and grant Geralt's wish of peace. The same for the second cut and the popping of Berg's head.

His head and eyes snapped up, seeing Skye still trapped underneath Daren, who had only applied more pressure to her throat in his rage for Berg's strange and sudden death. “The keys!” Geralt barked, spinning around on his knees towards Berg's body, looking for keys.

Chireadan's eyes panned over Berg's body, until he remembered. “He doesn't have the keys.” The Elf told Geralt, frantic as Skye's struggle started to fade. “He has them!” He gasped, pointing to Daren with his bound hands.

Geralt shot a look at Daren and Skye, her face and lips starting to go blue and her hands weakly wrapped around his wrists, starting to slip away from them. She was fading quickly and if Geralt didn't act even faster, she'd be dead in a minute. He looked down at his arm, at the thin bloody scratches on his thick forearm and realized what he had to do, so he cleared his dry throat.

“I wish,” He whispered, and the djinn's wind kicked up again around them, as he mumbled the wish out, too quiet for Chireadan to hear.

Then, suddenly, Skye's minty-green eyes flew open and she took a deep, wheezy breath around Daren's iron grasp. She squirmed against him for a moment, before letting go of his wrist with one hand and reached for her ankle as she brought a foot up, her hand wrapping around the handle of her father's dagger, having forgotten she had the weapon strapped to her ankle and calf. Yanking the blade free from its sheath, Skye gripped the hilt tightly, raised it, then plunged it into his back, slipping the sharp tip between two of his ribs and into his kidney. Daren instantly released her throat, allowing Skye to gasp for several more lungfuls of air, the color slowly returning to her face and lips.

“Skye.” Geralt let out a soft breath of relief, almost bringing tears to his eyes.

But, the war wasn't over yet.

Skye had yanked the dagger free as Daren stumbled away from her, howling with pain and anger, then started at her again. But, Sky brought her knees up, catching Daren as he started to fall on her, bracing the pummel of the dagger against her chest and letting Daren fall on it, the tip piercing through his chest, killing him, finally.

“Fuck.” Skye huffed in a weak and rough voice, swallowing down thick saliva as she tipped to one side to get Daren off the top of her, then laid there for a few minutes, dizzy, falling in and out of consciousness as her whole body, inside and out, throbbed and bleed.

“Skye.” Geralt called to her louder, frightened as he watched her lay on her side, facing away from him, terrified that she was dead, but gasped, hearing her pained groan. “Skye!”

Fighting off another wave that threatened her to lose consciousness, she rolled onto her back, and laid there for a long moment, then struggled to sit herself up, holding her head in her hands once she managed that.

“Geralt.” She whined, looking over at him, warmed to see his relieved smile, but was too battered to return it.

Sighing, Skye snatched the cell keys from Daren's belt with numb fingers, then pulling herself to her feet, staggering and widening her stance for a few minutes to keep herself upright, then moved to unlock the cell door.

“Here, here.” Chireadan offered, seeing Skye struggle to work the key into the lock, and reached through the bars to open it.

“Thanks.” Skye sighed, clearing her throat and shaking her head, trying to keep her eyes open.

“Skye!” Geralt called out, as the shackles around his wrists fell free, and quickly moved forward. “Gods, Skye.” He panted heavily, wrapping an arm around her swaying hips, steadying her. “What the fuck were you thinking, coming after me?” He chided her softly and meaninglessly.

Skye didn't answer for a moment, she just leaned in against him, the solid warmth of his body and his scent filling her bloody nose had a strong effect on her, her struggle against staying conscious vanished and she was alert and clear headed. That's when she yanked her body out of Geralt's arms and looked up at him, furious and boiling with rage.

“What was I thinking?” She shouted at him. “What was I thinking! What the hell were you thinking!? Leaving me like that!”

“I was--” Geralt tried to explain himself.

“You were what!?” Skye barked at him, her voice echoing and amplified. “Being a pig-headed lout! Abandoning me like some sort of wounded animal that you didn't have the bloody heart to put out of its misery!” She continued to berate him, suddenly striking him in the chest, in her fit of rage.

“Sk-” He tried to get a word in, his shoulders slumping.

“I hate you!” She hissed and punched him in the chest again. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, Geralt.” She howled, her anger losing out to her anguish, her punches growing weaker and feeble.

Geralt gripped her wrists and pulled her against him again, resting her head against his chest and cradled the back of her head. “I know.” He whispered into her dirty hair. “I know, Skye. I know.”

She sobbed into his chest, depleted and done, her hands gripping the back of the leather shirt he wore. “I came..” She choked and wiped her nose on her bloody sleeve. “I came...because..” Her mouth worked for a moment, tears making her face even more of a bloody mess.

“I-I..I l-love..you, Geralt.” She sighed, going slack against him.

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, burying his nose into her hair and nuzzling the top of her head, a thick lump in his throat. “I-I..” He folded his arms around her, squeezing despite the agony both of their bodies were in.

“I love you too, Skye.”

-- Chapter VI --

[jenner-benjamin]

Everything that I’ve wanted to say but haven’t had the confidence to until now

‘Everything that I’ve wanted to say but haven’t had the confidence to until now’ publication.

The ethos of this module has been to discover creative ways in which I can connect with my audience. Since the cancellation of this year’s end of degree show I have been conflicted at the prospect of a digital showcase and have been researching ways in which my work can be received in the physical sense. In a world where we scroll past artwork and give thoughtless ‘likes’ and ‘thumbs ups’, I wanted the reception of my work to be more considered and thoughtful and make my audience slow down for just a moment.

For months I had thought about making a publication at the end of the year that would consolidate my third year work in the form of a newspaper. My interest in the newspaper as an object was peaked by Guy Bigland’s workshop where he explained that the newspaper was a dying medium. I think this resonated because of the research I have carried out with handwriting falling under this same seemingly antiquated umbrella. On reflection, I felt that the newspaper carried with it connotations of either formality and seriousness or gossip and celebrity culture. These associations are difficult for audiences to disassociate with, despite what the actual subject matter of the publication may be, and so I decided to rethink my ideas of how to present this collection of works. I think because this publication is taking the place of an exhibition I had ideas of it needing to be grand and formal, when in essence this would detract from what the work is actually about.

I had samples from The Newspaper Club sent to me in the post which gave further insight in to how my publication might look. One such sample was of a zine, which I began to think might be more appropriate for what it was I was trying to say. The paper quality is of the same standard as a newspaper, so the audience reception would be similar to how they might approach this traditional form of relaying information. However the size is smaller, and as a result is much more intimate. 

The works found in the publication are a personal account of the pandemic. This includes the relentless lockdowns and periods of isolation, the loneliness that ensued as a result of these, the dire predicament of working in the hospitality industry throughout the whole ordeal and my feelings towards this, and finally the rare moments of quiet in between the anxiety, and how my creative practice has been a constant crux right from the beginning of the pandemic.

I feel that experiencing this work in a tangible way is paramount to reading the emotive content it offers. Contemporary society is oversaturated with digital media across a great many platforms and I did not want my story to get lost in a split second of someone’s screen time. Social media and virtual showcases will be used to share the work but these will only communicate so far. The publication will undoubtedly exist on multiple platforms, but I would like it to predominantly be experienced in the physical. 

‘Everything that I’ve wanted to say but haven’t had the confidence to until now’ is how I described this collection of drawings, prints, poetry and performances in a presentation that I gave earlier in the year. I noted it down as I really felt that it rung true to where I currently stood, not only as an artist but within myself as well. 

‘Everything that I’ve wanted to say but haven’t had the confidence to until now’ publication front cover - monoprint on paper.

The format of the zine itself communicates various aspects of my practice. It is divided in to two sections, Side A and Side B, a reference to cassette tapes. Dividing the publication in to chapters alludes to the sense of narrative that is present in all aspects of work. Side A addresses the negative moments of the pandemic and Side B has a much lighter tone. At the beginning of each section is a playlist, a reference to the layout of my sketchbooks. At the beginning of each sketchbook I begin a playlist that is personal to that book. When I reflect on past sketchbooks I know how I was feeling and what I was thinking by looking through the playlist. Side A is comprised of songs that I listened to when I was feeling down, and Side B was during the times I felt more optimistic and motivated. I have also made a QR code for each playlist so that the reader can further interact with the zine and listen to what I was listening to when when making the works that they are flicking through. QR codes are also very topical at the moment as they have become a part of our every day life, from checking in to locations with the NHS Test and Trace app to reading and ordering from a menu at a pub or restaurant. The inclusion of the QR code adds another dimension to the publication that combines traditional ideas with contemporary purposes. 

‘Side A’ playlist - monoprint on paper.

The zine contains a narrative of asemic works that respond to the current global crisis, some of these responses address the days where I struggled within myself and became outward reflections of inner feelings, and some respond to the hierarchical dynamic that became apparent in the hospitality industry. A few of the asemic works have been paired with poems that I have written in the last year. I chose to appropriate these as monoprints, a nod to the work I made before I rejoined the course (and have continued to explore throughout),  a further reminder of how far I have come and how much work has progressed. 

Side B offers works from my performative explorations, where I began to utilise my practice to cope with and overcome my lockdown struggles. The first of which is from the ‘Exhale’ performances and the second from the ‘Letter of Resignation’ performances. I wanted to include screenshots from the videos so there was a feeling of animation and movement as the reader journeys though the pages, but did not want the appearance of these to distract from the aesthetic of the publication. Therefore I printed these on the offset lithography press. The finished prints almost look like mid-20th Century American high school year book portraits - adding to the traditional tone I was hoping to achieve. 

Screenshot from the ‘Exhale’ drawing performance - offset lithography on paper.

I understood that in order for the publication to be assessed and meet the criteria for the newly adopted blended learning approach to teaching that I would have to decide upon a method of digitising the zine somehow. I thought that scanning in each individual page or submitting it as a .pdf document would completely undermine what I was intending to achieve, and so I collaborated with filmmakers, Tom Crane and Lianna Denwood who documented the zine in their own creative voice. I gave Tom and Lianna a copy of the zine and allowed them to produce a short narrative that highlights the quiet tone of the book. They included fragments of songs from the playlists that give prominence to how the audience might engage with the QR code playlists, in effect the soundtrack is both narrational and instructional.    

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I am incredibly proud of this piece of work. It is my largest edition to date, sitting at 150 copies. I intend to circulate these amongst my audience as invitations to a moment of reflection and poignant human think time, away from internet instantaneity. I am unsure as to the reception that the publication will meet, but it would be my hope there are moments in the pages that encourage the reader to consider and muse on.

[cristalknife]

Kadam Week 2021 Day 1 ~ Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net  you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the fist prompt was Puzzles and Games. And what represents better both than a treasure hunt? So here we go, I present to you Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

All the student body was abuzz, the annual treasure hunt was to be announced soon, it was always a great event. Mainly because the winner of the event earned a full booklet of backstage passes. Sixteen of them, completely blank to be used at the winner discretion during the current theatre season.

No limits were imposed on how the passes were to be used, be in a single show with a large group or even touring all the shows solo. The catch was that if multiple shows were to be watched by a group of two people up, the winner had to be there for each show.

Those booklets were the courtesy of Alumni working in the field. And to be honest it was a fun event for the faculty as well to create the set of riddles and clues needed to reach the destination.

It was supposed to be a moment of fun,  but at the same time given the kind of prize, it was not meant to be effortless.

However to the faculty disappointment, the individuals only rule with no cooperation allowed present in the previous editions, resulted in no winners for the past couple of years.

After consulting the sponsor, it was decided that for this year students could sign up as pairs.

But if the students decided to sign up as pair, then both the winners would have to be present each time they were to use the passes.

And apparently that wasn’t a condition that some were comfortable with, while others like Kurt were actually overjoyed.

Once he heard of the treasure hunt, he went out searching for Adam, barely containing his elation and desire to share the news.

Upon finding his boyfriend, Kurt was barely able to contain his excitement and he launched himself into Adam's arm sure he'd be caught.

Adam grinned and kissed Kurt back, holding him securely before saying "Hellu Love, what got you so excited?"

Kurt chuckled and as soon as his feet touched the floor once more he raised the flier and pointed to the fine prints "They mentioned a change in the rules and on this year’s event people can sign up as pairs. The catch is that both need to be present when using the passes, so you're game signing up with me?"

Adam raised an eyebrow curious before reading the flier aloud "The Annual Treasure Hunt? Is that what got you so excited? Except for my freshman year, I don't recall any of those events actually ever having winners"

Erika came up from the side and quipped "Three years ago was the last time someone won, but it was again one of the last seniors graduating. After that batch left, no one ever figured out the clues, I'm surprised the faculty still does it"

Kurt shrugged "Well the prize makes very much sense for the school, I mean blank passes for the backstage of current productions? That sounds interesting, and sixteen of them would actually mean we could all go together as a group and still have two spares for the winning team to get another show, or split between two productions..."

Kurt speech had most of the Apples smiling and send to their favourite freshie an adoring look.

Adam still amazed by his boyfriend asked softly "So you suggest a common effort and register more than one team, and then Apples parties at my place, where we could all chill out and talk about our days?"

JJ quipped up "Only if that involved baked goods from both our favourite bakers, because Adam ma man, I love your cookies but gimme Kurt's  casserole and salty cupcakes any time, and I could even fight you off and offer my hand in marriage for having those every day"

Kurt snorted and swatted away playfully JJ's offered hand "You are not even remotely bi-curious, If I wanted to live with an overgrown kid who'd stay with me for my cooking I'd simply invite my brother to move in with me"

Everyone around chuckled at that and JJ pouted mockingly offended "Are you insinuating I'm not man enough for you?"

Adam then stepped in smirking "More like implying that all the main male leads in his life are already cast, and you dear friend can only be the occasional torn in our butt, one that comes every now and then to offer his company in exchange for delicious food..."

Grinning like a cheshire cat JJ quipped back "Well we all know that the good ones are all gay, unavailable or happily being both together"

Everyone broke down in giggles and with resolute nods each claimed a partner. The divide and conquer idea Kurt had was very intriguing, and the thought of getting the upper hand on an event that even the Perks couldn't get their way by popularity alone, or that no one else won for the past couple of years had its allure…

Especially given the mixed composition of techies and performers in their group.

Seeing Kurt smiling radiantly was something each member of the Apples enjoyed and cherished.

Especially since the big fallout, or as it was known amongst them, the great purge of the toxic influx in Kurt's life.

Also known as the day when Miss fallen out Diva Berry left the loft in a huff and Kurt and his roommate Santana took the storming out literally and changed the key of the padlock.

Sending all of Berry’s stuff back to the temporary storage place two blocks away from bushwick, with a 3 days grace period and a week paid with Berry's part of the deposit.

Kurt himself was just very happy to be surrounded by friends who supported him as much as he supported them.

Being with Adam and being friends with all the members of the Adam's Apples, had given him a perspective he never knew he desperately needed, and it also lowered his tolerance for taking crap by those who were supposed to be on his side.

Kurt was not secretly very excited by the prospect of looking forward to something in his life that could be just fun and despite being officially a competition. He was still able to live it as an adventure, to be shared with his boyfriend and all their friends as well.

As they walked away from the registration boot and reading the first clue ‘Every adventure needs a captain to sail for the treasure island’

Kurt giggle when Adam playfully whispered in his ear "Aye aye captain let's get our sea legs on"

Kurt nodded and they made it to the costume department through the back corridors, not wanting to tip off the other not Apples participants, while their friends instead received simply a gentle reminded in their text chat, that all hearties were to meet at rehearsal later in the week same place same time.

Indeed their guess was correct when they found the next clue stating ‘Never forget those who came before you’

Kurt and Adam took the chance to grab a quick lunch as they discussed the clue. Adam was the first one to attempt to solve it "If we are thinking about the school that would send us to the hall of fame"

Kurt nodded slowly but tapped his finger against his lips "But what if it's a more general outlook? We are learning to get into an industry that broadens beyond the limits of the school and its social circles, even if those are still important"

Adam hummed softly mulling over it "So you're suggesting more like the library?"

Kurt nodded "I'm just unsure whether we are supposed to search in the history section itself or go more for the history of Broadway and theatre section"

Adam nodded slowly "there's no rule about not searching blindly both"

Kurt chuckled and nodded as well, after finishing his cup he raised an eyebrow in silent question and received a simple nod in response.

Once in the library, Adam was the one to take over the history of Broadway and the theatre section while Kurt went through the History books.

It took a while but finally Adam was successful and found a piece of plasticised parchment with what appeared half of the final clue.

The mention of a second half made him frown, but with nothing else to be found there, he simply took a picture of it with his phone.

He then placed the clue back inside the book and the book back on the shelf before going to find Kurt, hoping his got lucky and found the second half.

"Did you get anything?"

Kurt shook his head a little put off "No absolutely nothing, you?"

Adam nodded "Yeah I found something but it's only half of the final clue"

Kurt frowned confused "Guess it's time to start some baking then hmmm?"

Adam smiled and leaned forward to give Kurt a small peck on his cheek trying to stop the frowning "We could do directly at my place and then make an evening out of it"

The offer, as Adam hoped, brought a smile on Kurt's face as he replied coyly "I'd love that, are you offering just the evening or it could turn into a sleepover"

Adam grinned and moved so that he could kiss those cheeky lips, when he was almost where he wanted to be, he breathed quickly "We'll swing by the loft if there's something you absolutely need for tomorrow classes"

He then proceeded to thoroughly kiss his boyfriend.

After classes ended for the day, Kurt sent a message to their chat group informing everyone that it was baking time in the afternoon

Adam raised an eyebrow curiously at the message and Kurt shrugged stating simply "That way we can be sure basically everyone will show up with something to contribute, just before or around dinner time, and then the meeting will become a movie night"

Adam snorted because indeed knowing their friends that was what would most likely happen, "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I offered to make an evening out of it darling"

Kurt grinned, mischief gleaming clearly in his eyes "That's why I raised your offer to a sleepover instead..."

And true to Kurt's expectations, that evening all the Apples who didn't have to work, appeared at Adam's doorstep with offerings for the shared evening meal.

Of course those who had worked demanded a do-over with double baked goodies of their faves as personal share...

Once everyone was seated around, Paul, who paired up with JJ for the treasure hunt, asked "How was your hunt we've only found half of the final clue"

Kurt wrinkled his nose "we reached only half of the final clue as well care to see if we've all found the same half or if we lucked out?"

Adam took off his phone and started to read aloud "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue for the final answer you will have to give to someone to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

JJ jumped up from his seat exclaiming excitedly "Yes we've got both!"

Paul shook his head smiling and took off his own phone reading "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue to figure out who is the officer that you'll need to impress with the answer that you still need to find to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

Everyone was suddenly buzzing with unrestrained excitement when Kurt asked pragmatically "So how are we going to tackle this? Reading both clues together and then split between them or focusing the attention on a single one?"

Adam suggested swiftly "We could actually read them both and then see how to tackle the easier one first"

When everyone nodded Paul continued reading their clue "You might go to Central Park Or catch a show on Broadway...  Where in the world would you be to get to these by subway? Twice... I mean the answer is New York clearly but how does that help us identify who to give our final answer to?"

General groaning raised from around the room when Erika cut in "Adam what is your clue?"

Adam complied and read it for everyone perusal "What show is next in this pattern: A Chorus Line, Into the Woods, Bat Boy, Pacific Overtures, Little Women, Damn Yankees, Camelot, The Pajama Game, Children of Eden. As a hint, there is more than one show that correctly works, but one show fits more ‘perfectly’ than any others.”

Adam raised his phone to let everyone seeing the picture and commented

“As a side note there's only one blank line but its length doesn't seem indicative as it was formatted to look good rather than give a hint on the last name, or at least that’s what it looks like to me"

And everyone had to nod at that consideration at that point Chris' groan was the loudest "I don't get yall, neither of those is any more clear than mat moss paint..."

Kurt sniggered but offered a plate with Chris' favourite cookies on it "It's ok, we can work it out together so any ideas?"

Matt who had been quiet this far asked Kurt speculatively "You already have an idea for at least one of them don't you?"

Kurt looked taken aback and blushed getting himself busy with the food "Nothing solid.."

At that point Adam walked behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist as he pressed himself against his boyfriend "It's ok Love, you don't have to be right to speak your mind, we are here brainstorming there's no judging with us"

JJ quipped teasingly "I mean we'll obviously judge and tease you till the end of times for getting flustered the first time we took you out for blow jobs, but for this… I mean you're all going to hearing the suggestion my gorilla brain comes up with"

Chris snorted and quipped teasingly "Given what gets spawned out of your mouth I thought you would have said instead that yours is like a pig’s brain."

Matt joined in to the teasing, shaking his head as he grinned salaciously and wiggling his eyebrows "Nah a pig's brain is too big we are talking mouse if everything is in proportion."

Kurt coughed at the double meaning implied in that sentence, he feared JJ would take it badly. But he was once again surprised when JJ put theatrically one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest clearly mimicking a delightful surprise "Oh Matt, my darling why didn't you said that before… All this time you were checking me out  because you wanted some of my sweet sweet love, comma hear lemme give ya some sugar baby"

Everyone erupted in laugher and Matt maturely threw his napkin aiming for JJ's face "You wish man, you wish"

JJ pouted "Harsh dude, harsh, you could have at least throw your cupcake with the napkin"

Kurt sent a levelled glare to both boys "If anyone dares to throw our delicious baked food not only they will stay for the cleanup, but they will be banned to get more baked goodies for the next month"

A single "Ouch" escaped Matt's lips before he silenced himself and raised his arms in surrender.

Paul swatted the back of JJ's head "Don't upset daddy, or I'm so going to gag you next time we are all in the same room to prevent that from happening, I rather enjoy our baked goodies"

Erika quipped at Paul "Which is why you shouldn't save JJ from himself, let him dig his own grave, more goodies for us... Kurt had not said anything about lowering the amount of baked goodies, only put a ban on who can access them"

Chris chuckled and offered their fist to Erika, as they said grinning "Well said girl well said"

Erika smiled brilliantly and bumped the fist and then both made an explosion motion as they both retreated their arms.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at being addressed as daddy, but  Adam just held him a little closer and mouthed later.

So Kurt took the handle of the situation and started sharing his idea hoping for the current teasing to come to a natural rest "well I was thinking on Paul and JJ's clue... What if we need to take that final twice literally? As in the correct answer is New York, New York"

Erika's eyes shone brighter "Like the Scorsese's movie?"

Kurt nodded "Yes that's also the name of the most known song from that movie, so New York New York could be the solution"

Paul pondered and then said "Well if we are talking about a movie would that mean that we are to talk with the dean of the drama department?"

Kurt bit his lips and then he continued explaining his thoughts "I was thinking more about the fact it might refer to the song, which then in turn would make Madam T be the one to speak with, given that she's the dean of vocal performance. And with the movie being also a musical maybe the singing component is more pronounced and would lead to her instead of Mr Keller?"

Adam then said serenely "Once we figure out the answer we could even decide to split and each team going to both of them with the solution."

Murmurs of agreement run through the room until Matt stated "So now we just have to figure out what that list of musicals have in common?"

JJ scratched his head before raising and grabbing few more cupcakes to munch on "Do you think that the fact they cross two centuries means anything?"

Chris promptly opened Adam's computer and pulled up the wikipedia pages of all the listed musicals before shaking their head "Nope they are not in chronological order so it’s not that"

Paul then quipped "And that wouldn't make any sense, the additional hint says that there's only one answer that would fit perfectly... it's not like there's only one new musical coming out every single year"

Erika asked then "I am not familiar with all the titles but are they really all musicals?"

Adam answered "Yeah all of those listed are musicals, so maybe we need to check on the songs?"

Matt then wondered aloud "What if it's something all the songs have? Maybe there's a matching title or a recurring theme?"

Kurt took out his phone and looked around and said "well there's seven of us and nine titles maybe we could each open the list and check them side by side?"

JJ grinned and took out his phone as well "That's a great idea"

Kurt started listing all the songs of chorus line, Matt went on with the ones from into the woods,  JJ giggled like a maniac as he read the bat boy's list. Paul read on the Pacific Overtures and Erika listed the ones from Little Women.

When Adam, who was reading from the Damn Yankees, reached the song titled Six months, Chris exclaimed excited while raising a finger silently asking for a moment "Holy moley I think we got something going here"

Everyone turned, waiting for more explanation that Chris promptly provided "Each of those musicals has a song with a number in their titles" and then they pointed to Kurt who quickly caught up and said "One" and then each proceeded in order Matt said "It takes two", JJ said excited "Three Bedroom House "

Paul grinned starting to see the path as he said "Four Black Dragons"

Erika was grinning madly as she said "Five forever"

Then JJ still super hyped by having discovered the key to decode the clue he asked Chris "So what are the others?"

Chris smirked and started prattling "In Camelot we have ‘The Seven Deadly Virtues’, The Pajama Game has a song called  ‘7½ Cents’ while the Children of Eden has ‘A Piece of Eight’”

Kurt hummed softly and considered aloud "So we have nine musicals mentioned but the last number is eight... What if they had already given us the answer and it's literally Nine?"

Adam whistled impressed "That actually makes so much sense..."

Paul groaned "And if you explain it like that it seems so obvious too"

Erika shrugged "All riddles once explained make so much sense that you usually feel stupid for not reasoning it out before... That's why they are considered brain teasers"

Chris who in the meantime checked out Kurt's suggestion finally quipped triumphantly "That's it guys, we have a winner the answer is indeed Nine, which has a song called guess what?”

Chuckling everyone said at once “Nine"

JJ then scratched his head and then asked "So now we are only unsure on who we need to tell our answer to?"

Paul quipped happily “Me says Adam and Kurt follow Kurt’s reasoning, we follow ours, that way if our suspicion is correct and Kurt is right it’ll be them and not us having a private date… No offence man but I’d really prefer not having my girlfriend gutting me for going out on a date with you”

JJ snorted before sounding almost genuinely upset “Harsh man, harsh”

Paul patted JJ shoulder when Kurt asked confused “But what about the others?”

Matt answered smiling “Kurt you four are the only ones who got to the final clue, I personally wouldn’t like to try to get the prize knowing I barely got to the second one.”

Chris and Erika nodded as well confirming they felt the same way.

Kurt felt relieved that he wasn’t taking advantage of his friends. With everything sorted out, everyone else left leaving just Kurt and Adam alone.

After they settled down Kurt turned to Adam, with a questioning look on his face before asking “Is now later? Do I get to know what the daddy comment was about?”

Adam chuckled softly “Nothing bad Love, I can assure you that, you know that I’m considered the mother hen of the group right?”

Kurt hummed softly nodding as he snuggled closer to Adam who then continued “And well you’re too sweet and kind to all the Apples to be considered a father, but still we are together and we both tend to take care of them so…”

Kurt chuckled and finished shaking his head “So I’m daddy… Not sure how to feel about having so many kids that are all older than me”

They both sniggered at that.

The next day, when they went talking with Madam Tibideaux, they discovered that indeed Kurt’s reasoning was correct, and they got out of her office with the prize and matching grins. ~The End~

[bunnykitty13]

I'm so late to the party I know. Did Paulie die?? How?? When?? Like... Wha???

What would've happened if he had stayed, well, dead? Would that be even possible? Hopefully the question isn't that crazy.

TW: in depth depictions of death, blood, and grief

OKAY SO. This is something that has been in DOA for literally so long, I cannot force myself to write it out. I'm very stubborn about keeping it in so bare with me here as I'm still fitting some pieces together logic wise HEHE

(Theres a LOT I need to explain for full context so I'm sowwy for this being so long... Head Full Many Thought ) 

I'm hoping that by the time I reach this scene, I'll have new readers who dont know it's going to happen and that it will be a shock. I'm also hoping that leading up to this point, the reader is well invested in Eliot's headspace and under the impression that his logic mirrors the narrative's logic, because that's what protagonists are for, right?

Eliot (at this point in the story) tends to believe that everything is fate, and a demise like that must be deserved. because no hero or good person had ever suffered something like that and didnt make it out alive in his fairy tale books. This journey into Ashwood he had brought paulie along on was fueled by his own escapism and denial of reality, so when paulie ends up dead (by pure accident, which I'll explain) he is completely caught off guard and left to either 1. Turn back home and admit that his naivety has gotten someone killed AGAIN (his father being the first, technically), or 2.) spiral into denial more and figure out a way to undo it.

It's by pure chance that it was vin's arrow trap, and that vin had woken up to investigate the absolute /wailing/ sound eliot was making after Paulie stopped breathing. This single arrow trap was a means to intimidate, as most Ash Wood citizens know to not to lurk during the night around shops, of all places. The only reason paulie had been unfortunate enough to catch it at the wrong angle (his right lung, specifically) was because he knew eliot was just not fast enough to move out of the way himself. It was a split second decision to push him out of the way, and they both paid for it regardless. Paulie, with his life.

Its not really a quick death, either. I mean, its "quick" but it is definitely drawn out by being a single arrow to one lung. He essentially drowns in his own blood and eliot can do nothing but watch, and pretend like theres something he can do to stop the bleeding. I think paulie knows right away that he is not getting out of it alive, so even in his last moments (in typical paulie fashion putting others needs first) he is desperate to comfort eliot, but it comes off more disturbing than anything. Hes gurgling up blood while he tries to cradle eliots face and push his hair to get a better look at his face, and this definitely only makes eliot weep harder.

I say its lucky that its vin who indirectly did this, because vin has extensive knowledge of the many things magic can do. They have books in their store filled with secrets and lore that is completely unheard of in amber. And amongst these books, is magic in medicine, an idea that is laughable in amber Kingdom. But when eliot threatens to take an eye for an eye when vin approaches him, they mention this book. It's never been done on the deceased before, but its not like paulie can get any dead-er

The only reason this magic even works on Paulie's deceased body is because eliot is so naturally gifted with magic. It works in the sense that he impromptu uses his own blood (which has INCREDIBLE amounts of magic inside) while doing this blood magic to get Paulie's wounds to rapidly heal at a cellular level. It takes a LOT of energy to produce that much magic that quickly, and it makes eliot very very sick for a little bit. (Think like, if you had given a lot more blood than you should have. That's what it does to him.)

He nearly passes out multiple times during the process, and vin does suggest that its likely a lost cause and not worth hurting himself, as the living take priority over the dead. Eliot is a stubborn ass though and he probably would have kept going until it killed him himself 1JAJDUDJSJFJ, it was just real lucky that it worked

I won't go too much into this fact but paulie is having his own "the view from the halfway down" style moment which explains some stuff as well >w>

if paulie had stayed dead, I doubt eliot would have went on to be the protagonist he grows into. He just would not have had the same willingness to fight malorin, and that would be a BIG problem considering how eliot is extremely important to DOA's endgame.

[naceisonthecase]

Alya’s Christmas Miracle

Hello, @giorgiaink​! I was your Fitzsimmons Secret Santa. I hope you enjoy this little fic. It’s only the first part, but with my last semester of University and Christmas I’ve been quite busy. I’ll post the next part (hopefully!) soon. I hope you like it. 

                                                          ------

Prompt: fluff or angst with an happy ending or something introspective

Summary: Two years after the Decimation no one is really in the Christmas spirit. Alya Fitzsimmons makes it her mission to bring some holiday joy to Perthshire. 

Note: This is not beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. 

                                                           ------

The early morning sun shone through the lightly falling snow casting a wintery glow through the window of the Perthshire cottage as the people inside began their day. Jemma was in the kitchen, cooking. Fitz was sitting at the breakfast nook, reading an article on his tablet. And, Alya was in the lounge. She was laying on her stomach, her legs wiggling in the air, and an entire box of crayons scattered around her as she concentrated hard on the roll of paper stretched before her. Every so often she’d tap the bottom part of the crayon against her lip in thought before scribbling another addition to her list. She had just finished and, propping her elbows on the hardwood, was proudly examining her handiwork when Jemma called from the kitchen.

“Alya, breakfast is ready!”

The five-year-old sprung to her feet. “Coming!” She announced, leaving her paper amongst the crayons, and scampered into the kitchen instantly enveloped by the smells of cooking. She climbed up onto the cushioned bench of the breakfast nook.

“You’re favourite breakfast.” Jemma announced, coming over to the breakfast nook with a plate in hand and a jug of syrup in the other. “Banana pancakes.” She placed the plate stacked with already pre-cut pancakes in front of her daughter and put the jug of syrup in the center of the table where a saucer of milk and sugar were already laid out.

“With chocolate chips?” Alya quipped up with enthusiastic hope.

“Only a bit.” Jemma answered. She pressed a quick kiss to the top of the little girl’s head. “Don’t want you jumping off the walls causing shenanigans.” She finished then returned to the kitchen for the rest of the breakfast necessities. Alya quickly positioned herself onto her knees in order to reach for the jug, pouring an overly generous helping of the sugary goodness over her breakfast and dug happily in. Jemma soon returned with her and Fitz’s breakfast.

“Fitz, I told you no screens at the table.” She said, placing the breakfast things in front of him  and refilled his mug of tea, but Fitz didn’t look up from the article detailing the devastating events. Instead, he was rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

Alya lowered her fork to her plate, and turned to watch her father. She noticed his jaw was clenched and his  “Daddy, what’s wrong?” She asked. “Is it about the people that disappeared two years ago?”

Fitz lowered his tablet, and Jemma paused in the middle of prepping her cup of tea. “Oh, sweet girl,” Jemma said, “you don’t need to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried, I have a plan.”The little girl bit back a smile as she jumped up from the bench and hurried back into the lounge. “We can fix this together. Just like always.”

Jemma and Fitz shared a look.

Alya had always been an inquisitive child, always asking questions and probing for stories about her parents adventures, but they both agreed to keep her out of that as  much as possible. The less she knew the better. And, considering her unconventional upbringing they were looking forward to introducing her to the wide world and building their own adventures away from the dangers of SHIELD. That was before they had returned to the original timeline and realized that half the world’s population had vanished into thin air. For Alya there were more people around than she ever dreamed existed, but for her parents everywhere they turned they saw the aftermath of The Decimation (or The Blip --- as some preferred) as the reports had deemed it. All the people that had lost someone special, not knowing if they were going to return. The two were fully aware of how that felt.

Alya returned, the piece of paper clutched in her little hand. “It’s not quite finished,” she said, handing it over to her mother. On the top, scribbled in large blue crayoned letters it read:

Underneath, a short list was written out and Jemma naturally tilted the page towards Fitz so he could read through it with her, as she’d done multiple times with a scientific report in the past.

“It’s a lovely idea.” Jemma said.

“I know.” Alya said, gleefully. She began shoveling the rest of her pancakes into her mouth as fast as she could. She washed it down with a cup of milk, and stood again from the bench. “We need to start right away if we want to fit everything in.” Alya added, standing on tiptoes to reach across the table for her empty plate and cup. Once in her grasp she skipped off to discard it in the sink. Fitz then picked up the paper to give it a closer read through.

“Fitz, I know what you’re thinking.” Jemma began, tilting her head slightly towards Fitz, watching him press his thumb to his lip in thought. “It won’t bring anyone back. But, she just wants a Christmas like the ones in her story books.”Jemma laid her hand on top of his, giving it an encouraging squeeze, and smiled. “Maybe it will do us all a little good.”

“She’s so your daughter.” Fitz said mockingly, dropping the sheet back down to the table

“But she’s your splitting image.” Jemma replied as the towheaded girl bounded back to the nook.

“Come here Monkey.” Fitz said, all traces of his grimness gone. He picked Alya up and placed her on his lap.“As soon as you’re all washed up and dressed,” he said, wetting his thumb with the tip of his tongue, wiping away some syrup which had dribbled onto her chin as she ate, “we can-“, he consulted the list (as if he hadn’t been looking at it a second earlier), “-bake Nana’s biscuits”, his mouth instantly beginning to water.

Alya nodded, scrambling off her father’s lap and rushing out of the room.

Jemma smirked. She knew that Fitz could never say no to their daughter, no matter how much of a Scrooge he was when it came to the holiday’s. He’d picked up his fork, and was already chewing away at his breakfast when he noticed Jemma’s look.

“What?” He questioned around the pancakes in his mouth.

Jemma’s smirk deepened but she didn’t utter a word, simply biting off a mouthful of pancake from her own fork.

[najatheangel]

Written Ship 💕💕

hii!! i was wondering if i could get a written ship for NCT, BTS and (G)-IDLE. thank you in advance! 💕

i’m overall quiet laidback and low-energy. i often come off as aloof and standoffish due to my quiet and very, very (very) introverted nature. i’m deadpan and unenthusiastic, both in my humor and overall communication skills, so it’s very hard for me to express my affection (without dying of embarrassment).

i’m a devoted nerd and really enjoy learning. i spend a lot of time broadening my knowledge in anthropology and personality theory, as well as spiritually and astrology. i love reading and writing, spending my time (that i’m not randomly reading someone’s astrological chart or typing every single living being with personality labels) writing new drafts for fantasy books i can only wish to publish.

i’m a libra, INFJ and ravenclaw. i speak fluent portuguese, english and spanish, and am learning french and chinese mandarin — i study linguistics in college. i love conspiracy theories, and have full length 12 pages theories of my own. i also love fashion and dressing up, often getting comments on my “preppy” style. i’m not that in tune with the physical world, so i can often forget to “live” outside my head.

thank you so much for reading this far!!! 💘

Hello honey boo, thanks so much for requesting and telling me about yourself. Your a very interesting person. Anyways here’s your ship...😊😊

From Nct(ot23), I ship you with...Kun

Positive Side: When I read your description, for some reason I just felt like someone like Kun would be the perfect fit. Although your personalities and energy levels are very different, Kun can motivate you for simple things like waking up early in the morning, do something productive and even try new things you’ve never done before. Don’t worry about embarrassing yourself sometimes Kun has his very corny yet cute moments so, he has no shame in feeling embarrassed with you. As we know, he’s the ultimate mama/husband material for you and the Wayv members so sometimes he’ll need someone laidback as you to help him relax, get good sleep and talk about his day with. So this opposite attract situation works for the best! As far as hobbies, you both have a lot of interests and share your love for knowledge on certain topics. Kun is very wise and is willing to read the latest books you recommend to each other and later on will have discussions on them. He would send you his secret cooking recipes to let you cook by yourself if he wasn’t around to eat together with you. While he was off on his comebacks, backstage he would read up on personality types and his astrology natal chart that you have sent him so he would discover more about himself. He’s very fluent in Chinese and Korean, but he would also want to learn other languages from you since ten be teasing him like crazy so he decides to take weekly language lessons from you. Overall you both can learn to adapt to each other’s personalities yet at the same time bring the best versions out of yourselves.

Negative Side: Once you two started getting serious, the scarier it got for the both of you because now friends and family were involved in learning more about your relationship together. The pressure got to you not only because you wanted to make a good impression on them, but it was all starting to move too fast for you. Kun asked you out after 4 months of being with you and you didn’t want to break his heart by saying you need more time or this is moving too fast, so you just rolled with it. Knowing how introverted you can be, the anxiety started kicking when you were meeting his family. They seemed very sweet and supportive, but they were asking a lot of questions and it started to get to your head. You panicked and decided to leave early not wanting disappoint Kun. “Kun, I think we’re going to have to slow down a bit. I’m not ready to face your family yet.” He tries to grab your sleeve to keep you from leaving his parents house, but you ran off shedding a tear. “I guess she’s going to need some more time.” Leans against the door looking up to the ceiling sighing.

But...: After a few weeks of not speaking or visiting Kun, you’ve decided how much you wanted to be with him and are willing to face through this awkward moment with him together one last time. Once you’ve called him you didn’t even have to tell him where you were, he was already behind the door and ran upstairs to your room to pick you up bridal style spinning you around. You were home alone for a split second enjoying your long awaited reunion until you hear your parents knocking on your door dropping off some food for you. You were a bit nervous, but more confident than the last time to let Kun meet your parents first. You walk down stairs hand in hand smiling at each other before opening the door. “Let’s invite them in and eat together Kun.” “There’s no turning back after this are you sure?” You kiss him on the cheek and then on the forehead to calm the nerves. “Oh I’m sure.”

From Bts, I ship you with...RM

Positive Side: You two are unstoppable together, the beauty and the brains couple. You were infatuated by each other the more you get to know each other by the minute. Although your a ravenclaw and he’s a griffindor, you both compliment each other very well and adore each other’s characteristics. He love how intelligent, sharp and creative you can be when you put your efforts into your writing and your ability to learn multiple languages which is a used skill to have. Just like Kun, you can learn from his leadership skills and you love how caring he is amongst the people around him. RM loves his alone time when it comes to reading a book to find inspiration in the mountains or traveling to different art exhibits to take his beautiful photos, but the he’s much happier bringing you along. He was your biggest inspiration and you wanted to follow in his footsteps which along the way developed into a romantic relationship. He also had that ability to help you achieve your dreams by sending you motivational quotes, giving you advice and giving you feedback on your writing so you can publish your books with his help. Although he has his clumsy moments and might makes mistakes every once in awhile, he still wishes to do his best to be your life partner and mentor for the long run until you both retire.

Negative Side: It was a tough process trying to make it official with him, because most of your conversations were about astrology, conspiracy theories and hardships you’ve experienced throughout your pasts. You saw him as a mentor and a reliable resource and you thought that was all he would ever be. However, he was the first one to fall for you and worked really hard to make you notice, but never out right said. When you even started going on blind dates, he was still being the sweet man supporting your love life. This one time you even introduced the guy you were dating for awhile in front of him and he was trying his best to smile and be happy for you, but it was obviously getting to him. “Y/N, I think I’m going to head back out to the dorms, I’ll see ya later.” He tries to reach out to hug you, but the guy your with clings you closer to him glaring at him. Ever since it was awkward for the both of you to face each other.

But...: After months of being with your current boyfriend you start missing RM and you start feeling bored with your relationship. The excitement, feeling and passion just wasn’t the same without being with RM. You decided to meet up with now to be your ex and told him that you should see other people because how you fallen in love with RM. For the most part he expected that to happen and offered you to drive you to the airport to catch up with RM before he flies away to L.A. for his album promotions. It was like straight of a k-drama, you ran as fast as you can to find Bts and as soon as they were going to walk inside the airplane, you saw them and screamed “Namjoon!” to get his attention. He was confused at first, but as soon as he heard your confession he cut you off with a kiss. “You don’t even have to say it. I love you too. I have for a longtime.” He looks down at you smiling, but realizes he has to leave in 1 minute. “Go ahead Namjoon, I’ll be waiting for your return.” You both wave at each other blowing one last air kiss each other waiting for the next reunion.

His future wife is going to be sooo lucky. ✨

From (G)-IDLE, I ship you with...Yuqi

Positive Side: She was your saving grace. This is another opposites attract situation where your personalities oddly blend so well together. While your more introverted and prefer to stay in small groups, she’s more on the extrovert side and prefers to hang out in big groups. Since she likes you so much, she doesn’t mind being alone with you and spending quality time with you. Once again she can be very funny and sometimes have her clumsy yet cute moments just like RM which makes you fall in love with her even more. When you show her your stories and need feedback on it, she reads it over as many times as you need to with her deep satisfying reading voice. She might not know a lot on your subject as far as astrology, personality types and linguistics, but she’ll know what study tools that’ll help you pass your exams, take time out of her schedule to help you finish your papers and reward you with a good meal with her members after your done. Lastly she would love to learn multiple languages from you and even ask you how to say certain words so she can say things like “I love you” or “I want to cuddle”, but when’s she’s away she wants to say “I miss you. I can’t wait to see you again”

Negative Side: For the most part Yuqi is very sweet to you and there’s barely any arguments about anything, but except when you have your days when your stuck in bed or prefer to have some time alone. Yuqi is very friendly and would want to spend as much time with you as possible, because of her schedule so when your not in the mood to hang out or prefer to sleep on your own it does upset her a little. She would be a little irritated for the most part, but she wouldn’t try to have a full outburst over it because she has other things to worry about. She would even tell her members about it which would upset you, because you feel like she’s fed up with you and cause a misunderstanding.

But...: After talking it over with the members, she realizes that sometimes you just need your time alone to rest from school, writing and doing research all day. Just like for her when she had to be in the studio and practice her choreography all week for her comebacks, she needs some time to rest, but have her members if she can’t reach out to you. You both apologize for upsetting each other and for now on will work the issues out by talking to each other. Your both also very forgiving and don’t dwell to much on the past so it’s best to focus on the future.

Out of everyone, I ship you the most with...RM💜

@nephilete Thanks so so much for requesting love and I hope this somewhat made your night/day. Feel free to request again.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Really love what you guys are doing! I recently started listening to the breakup series and one thing I wonder after listening to the first two, why do you think Paul let his relationship with Jane fail? Do you think he let her catch him in bed with another woman on purpose? Was he just being careless? If they were so important to each other I don’t understand why he acted that way

Hello Anon,

Great question!

I’ll be honest, I used to think Paul let himself get caught by Jane in a sort of death-by-cop scenario (since this is how it’s portrayed in EVERY Beatles book), but I’m no longer so sure. 

This is a topic we at AKOM have discussed amongst ourselves many times.First, we’re not even sure we can believe that story 100% since it comes from a dubious source (Francie Schwartz) who over-inflates her relevance. Did Jane stumble upon Paul in bed with Francie?  Perhaps.  But why would FS be the proverbial back-breaking straw?  We all know that Paul had a ton of affairs, and that Jane was still discovering some of them in 1968 (Marijke from the Fool, for example).  The point is that the story itself might be a convenient excuse and close enough to the truth that neither Paul nor Jane bothers to correct it.  Obviously neither wants to offer details of their relationship, and after all these years “caught in bed with another woman” is vague enough to tie up loose ends and discourage further digging.  And since the Beatles authorship shows about 0-2% interest in Jane at all, this works.

We definitely believe Jane and Paul were very, very important to each other and that Paul was crazy about her.  Everyone around them comments on it, all the way to Hunter Davies and Paul Saltzman (the 3rd person observer who was in Rishikesh).  Paul himself is responsible for downplaying Jane.  I think the reasons why are probably two-fold.  Barry Miles revealed that the only parts of Many Years From Now Paul requested him to edit out were the multiple references to Jane (and some of Maggie McGivern).  This was out of respect/deference to Linda who was terminally ill at the time.   Miles also said that when Linda and Paul married, Linda distanced Paul from the old mutual friends he had with Jane, indicating that there may have still been residual jealousy from Linda at that point.  (Don’t forget that Paul began seeing Linda when he was still engaged to Jane!).  And there is that (possibly sketchy?) story of Linda’s editor taunting her with Jane’s cookbook as late as the 90s (!?).  Again suggesting that Linda is fully aware (and slightly competitive) of how deep Paul and Jane’s bond was before she came along.

The other reason Paul downplays Jane is maybe that she broke his heart, simple as that.

We’re not talking about their break-up specifically, just their general collapse as a couple.  We  believe she was likely the inspiration of some of Paul most heartfelt and brilliant Beatles songs; some of his most beautiful (And I Love Her, For No One) some of his most asshole-ish (Another Girl, You Won’t See Me) and everything in between (We Can Work it Out, etc).  His emotions for her, as reflected in his music, were real and complex and ALL the evidence suggests their relationship was tumultuous, full of passion and frustration. 

Furthermore, Jane and the Ashers were hugely influential on Paul’s development as a person and an artist.  Paul bonded with the entire family and learned so much from them in terms of culture and lifestyle.  The lack of curiosity about Jane and Paul in this fandom is somewhat predictable, but the lack of curiosity amongst the authorship is reprehensible.  Even worse, they have somehow managed to spin Paul’s relationship with this extremely strong-willed, independent, young career woman (who refused to “settle down” whenever Paul tried to wife her up) as evidence that Paul is an egomaniac who needed a weak groupie to worship him (like Linda, of course).  When it actually suggests the opposite, that Paul likes intelligent women who can (and will) hold their own against him.

The rub, of course, is that Jane won’t talk about Paul and Paul won’t talk about Jane.  Our guess is that their mutual loyalty and respect extends to this day.But back to your question- why did Paul behave like a dirtbag in ’68 if he wanted to stay with Jane?  Our understanding is that one of the recurring issues in their relationship was Jane’s availability; meaning Jane was away from Paul for long stretches of time (usually due to work) which Paul HATED and they fought constantly about it and Paul would act out whenever Jane was gone.  Which is not to say he cheated on her for “revenge,” but let’s put it this way… As a highly desirable rock star, Paul had 24/7 access to any kind of sex he wanted and I think, basically, he wanted sex… if not 24/7 then at the very least on a regular basis!  In the end I think he just wasn't willing to be chaste and faithful in Jane’s absence (especially given his incredibly easy access to free sex whenever he wanted it).  YMMV, but this makes sense to us.  Not from the standpoint that he “deserves” more because of his rock star status, but simply because everyone deserves a relationship that can satisfy his/her needs.  Of course Jane deserves the mate she wants TOO, which is why we think ultimately it was an amicable split, each understanding they just couldn’t be what the other person needed.

Because Jane and Paul won’t talk about their relationship, we have to rely on other people’s accounts.  Nearly everyone in their circle was shocked and sad when they broke up.  Thanks to Allistair Taylor we know Paul wept and moaned about Jane.  We think besides being his girlfriend, Jane was most likely Paul’s primary confidant in the Beatle years and it must have been beyond devastating to lose her at such a pivotal time in his life.  And I definitely think it would’ve contributed to the overall soul-searching and depression he exhibited in the next couple of years.  Of course this fandom loves to attribute Paul’s EVERY emotion to John Lennon, but it’s always important to remember that Paul had other people and things in his life.

Thanks for the great ask!

-Phoebe and the AKOM crew