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feroluce · 1 year

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When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

#genshin impact #haikaveh #al haitham #kaveh #kavehtham #these two have had me chewing concrete lately god #3.6 got me frothing at the mouth #something about al haitham trying to save kaveh from himself and his own guilt complex and self-sabotage wheeee my heart #and he's normally so self-assured but he fucked it up spectacularly the first go around- good job baby-#and now it's years later he's trying again but it's something he's barely chipping away at not to mention Kaveh not wanting his help lol #and so some of Al Haitham's nightmare is objective fact and some of it is his own subjective pov #Kaveh loses his arms and ears bc al haitham is frustrated that he won't hear him out or reach out for help #and he keeps his eyes up and eventually blinds himself bc al haitham thinks of him as too idealistic and blind to reality #and kaveh does all this to himself bc when you ask al haitham about his troubles he talks about people who cause trouble for themselves #kaveh pondering the concept of karma in relation to his bad luck and misery and guilt about his father's death in the quicksand *fans self*#al haitham starting to get just a little nervous that maybe he really he can't do anything about this #or that one day it'll be too little late ough. love when I can whump character by whumping the other.#two for one special buy one get one two birds stoned at once type of deal #i have a Vision about them and their stupid dumbass relationship dynamic that I need to yell about later but for now: this #written while listening to A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers which hilariously was introduced to me as a pla Emmet song #'but here was a man mourning tomorrow; he tried to finally drown in his sorrow'#'oh he could not break surface tension; he looked in the wrong place for redemption'#'don't look at me with those eyes; I tried to unheave the ties; turn back the tide that drew him in'#'but he couldn't be saved'#'a sadness runs through him'#extremely kaveh and haikaveh song for me ough #my fics #gore #body horror #I mean it's pretty unrealistic but still just in case

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risetherivermoon · 1 year

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Remus: i need to talk to Barty

Dorcas: now why would you need to do that?

Regulus: i dont think ive ever heard the phrase "need to talk" and "Barty" in the same sentence before

Remus: its an emergency-

Dorcas: what happened?

Remus: its a long story- about uh, my furry little problem

Regulus: oh, OH

Dorcas: furry?-

Regulus: jesus, does he know?

Remus: thats the problem, im not sure if he does, i was talking with Sirius in a classroom and he just flat out walked out in the middle

Regulus: and Barty is the worst gossip you'll ever meet-

Evan: why are we talking about Barty?

Regulus & Remus in unison: nothing!

Evan: i- what the hell?

Dorcas: Evan what is a furry little problem?

Evan: im sorry?

Remus: Rosier where the fuck is Barty

Evan: why does everyone always expect me to know what hes doing?

Regulus: so you don't know?

Evan: nah he's in the common room, but still!

Regulus: okay, ill go have a nice chat with him

Remus: thanks Reg

*Regulus leaves*

Evan: you and Barty hooking up or something?

Remus: what? no-

Dorcas: Lupin's too busy banging Reg's brother

Evan: ah, right, havent caught up on the recent gryffindor drama, you and mckinnon still having a lovers quarrel?

Dorcas: lovers- What?!

Evan: right you haven't realized you like like her yet, sorry, so much drama with those lions honestly

Remus: excuse me, i'm right here

Evan: yeah but technically you're a wolf, so

Remus, pulling out his wand: what did you just say? who told you?

Evan: oi! i found out on my own! i'm not as stupid as some of you people think i am, plus Barty's also known for ages,

Remus: HE HAS?!

Evan: well technically all of us besides Cas and Pandora, I know that Reg knows, but that one was pretty obvious

Dorcas: what the hell are we talking about?!

Remus: none of your business

Dorcas: damn

Evan: don't worry, we haven't told anyone! that would be cruel

Remus: and you and Barty aren't cruel?

Evan: you wound me, Lupin

Remus: Rosier, please

Evan, whispering: cross my heart, mate. honestly it doesn't seem to benefit anyone to know, but id suggest you tell your friends to stop talking so loudly, we know about their animagi, and when Reg finds out his boyfriend and brother are doing stupid shit like that he'll lose it.

Remus: fucking hell-

Barty: alright, whats the fuss about, why is Reggie pissy and why'd he threaten me

Evan: Bee, Lupin thinks you're gonna tell people about his furry little problem

Dorcas: for fucks sake-

Barty: oh! yeah nah, i've known for awhile, i won't say anything, not my secret to tell

Remus: im going to have an aneurysm

Regulus: wait- what? Rosier you know now?

Evan: I've known for a while, so has Bat, we both came to our own conclusions, we just tell eachother everything, so

Regulus: what?

Remus: apparently everyone knows about everything and im going to lose my fucking mind

Barty: we aren't gonna tell anyone, Dora and Cas still don't know

Dorcas: im so bloody confused right now, im gonna go talk to marlene,

Barty: ooo! have fun!

Evan: use protection!

Dorcas: fuck off you two!

Remus: im just- gonna take my crisis elsewhere, thanks Reggie

Regulus: uh, no problem Remus...

*Remus & Dorcas leave*

Evan: successfully confused the two smartest people we know, this is the best day ever

Barty: fuck yeah!

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dreamofbecoming · 2 years

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bitten lips and broken hands

the incomparable @wren-of-the-woods tagged me in a totally innocuous wip ask game, and although i had no current wips, this apparently triggered my latent gifted child programming and i ended up staying up all night to write this

so thank you wren from the bottom of my heart, and i hope all y’all enjoy whatever the fuck this is

geraskier/implied pre-geraskefer

rating: t

wc: 6500

ao3

Geralt is drunk. Properly drunk, too, not just the lights are all brighter and the jokes all funnier drunk. Perhaps not quite oh dear, is that the floor? How did it get all the way up he- drunk, but certainly in the vicinity of I might not remember deciding to homestead in this ditch on the side of the road, but surely it was a good decision and I stand by it drunk.

In his defense, he’s quite sure he’s earned it. They all have, after everything. So many of his brothers dead, blood soaking into the stone floor again, throwing him back to the Sacking...he snatches the bottle from Lambert and downs another swig of White Gull to cut off that line of thinking. That’s why they’re getting drunk, to stop thinking about it. Getting maudlin, while on brand, defeats the whole purpose. Ciri is safe, gone to bed hours ago, and he got Yen settled into an empty room (near Vesemir’s, who promised to keep an ear out in case she tried anything unsavory) after supper before heading back down to get pissed with his brothers, so there’s nothing keeping him from what he’s definitely earned.

Vartok and Tolbert are already passed out, drooling on the floor in front of the fire, but Geralt and Eskel and Lambert have at least another bottle to get through.

“So whas- wash- what’s the deal with your bard, anyway? The fuck’d you bring him here for?”

“Lam, don’ be a fuckin’ prick, hey? Bard’s nice enough. Likes Lil Bleater! ‘s good people!”

“’as how I know he’s mad! Nobob- boby- nobody likes that bloody monster! Fuckin’ menace she is.”

“Don’ fuckin’ insult my damn goat, you ass! Yer jus’ cross she got into your room las’ year. ‘s yer own fault! Told you! Shut the door! Pass the damn Gull, Wolf, quit hoggin’ it.”

“Those were bran’ new boots! Fuckin’ beast! You still owe me new ones, ya prick. The fuck was I talking about anyway?”

Geralt is only half listening to the familiar bickering, so Eskel has to stop guzzling from the rapidly emptying bottle to answer. “Bard,” he nods decisively, going back to the bottle.

“Right! Bard! The fuck were you thinking, Pretty Boy? Fancy type like that, all, all frilly and shit, what good is he in a wisher- witcher keep? Tossing rocks about in the middle of fights? ‘ sides, dunno why he’s still hangin’ around you anyway, din’ you chase him off? Don’ belong here, that one.”

“I know,” Geralt laments. He does know. It’s why he never invited Jaskier here to winter with him, despite the many and myriad hints he pretended not to pick up on over the years. He knew from the moment he met Jaskier that this place, with its ghosts and bloodstains and drafty corridors and broken edges and broken witchers, was no place for someone like his the bard. Someone bright and vibrant and joyful. Kaer Morhen was none of those things. Even whole and full of life, it had been a cruel and a hard place. A place of dead children and frightened youths and cold men. No, he had never wanted to see Jaskier in these halls if he could help it.

“Din’ have much of a choice, y’know. Yen ‘s all-” He waves his hand vaguely about in an approximation of the chaos that was the days following the mess at Nenneke’s. “Hadta get Ciri back. Wouldn’ta brought him here otherwise.”

In hindsight, he’ll probably blame the drink for the fact that he didn’t register the familiar scent of sweat and parchment and almond oil, but the truth is, he’s so lost in thoughts of Jaskier already that he assumes it’s only in his head.

It is not. Eskel whaps him on the shoulder in alarm, trying to cut him off, but it’s too late. Jaskier stands motionless in the doorway for a moment before he whirls on his heel and vanishes into the hall, the tray of food he had obviously very thoughtfully prepared for them clattering to the ground behind him.

Geralt abruptly feels very sober. Jaskier’s face, eyes huge and brimming with tears, expression utterly crushed, is going to haunt him, he knows. It’s like the mountain all over again.

“...whoops?” Lambert tries, though he does look genuinely contrite, for Lambert values of contrite, anyway. Granted, he’s already out of his seat and gathering up the scattered food onto the discarded platter, shoveling a roll into his mouth straight off the floor, so Geralt takes his remorse with several grains of salt.

“G’wan, you hafta fix it! Go talk to him!” Eskel shoves him off the couch, gesturing frantically at the doorway where Jaskier disappeared from.

Geralt’s reflexes are slow, and his brain hasn’t quite caught up with the situation, but as the shock starts to wear off, hot shame followed by cold dread settles into his limbs, sending him stumbling down the hall towards the bedrooms. The molten pit of shame in his gut writhes even harder when he realizes he doesn’t know which room Jaskier has been staying in, hasn’t even gone to see him once since arriving, not even to check on him after the battle. Gods, he’s an awful friend.

Shoving down feelings that will do him no good right now, he tries to shake off some of the lingering alcohol haze not burned off by adrenaline and focus on Jaskier’s scent as it leads him through the winding corridors of the keep, tainted as it is by the scent of saltwater tears and moldy grief.

He finds him on one of the lower levels, in a cramped little room off a side hallway without even a hearth. There are no torches lit, but a magelight Yen must have cast sometime before supper glows over the desk, though why she would use her freshly-restored, still-regenerating power on something like that, Geralt isn’t sure.

What’s worse, Jaskier is packing.

To be fair, there isn’t much to be packed, but he’s carefully stacking notebooks into a satchel Geralt recognizes as dwarven design, which he assumes Yarpen and his people gave to him on the way across the Continent.

“Jas-”

“I hope one more night won’t be too much of an imposition,” he interrupts. “Yen’s already asleep, I checked, and after what she went through today, it seemed unchivalrous to wake her just to ask her for a portal off the mountain. You have my word I’ll be-” Jaskier’s voice, already thin and warbling from tears, breaks for a moment before he recovers, “I’ll be off your hands just as soon as possible. I never intended to intrude on a place I...I don’t belong.”

His back is to the witcher, and Geralt can see the quiver in his shoulders as he grips the desk with white knuckles, the strain of holding himself together causing him to shake where he stands. His choice of phrasing does not go unnoticed, hitting its mark like Geralt is sure it was meant to. It twists in his belly like poisoned dagger, burning and tugging.

“Jas that wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck. Fuck! I’m too fucking drunk for this.” He finds himself all at once overwhelmed, the grief and the shock and the guilt and the fear and the fucking White Gull and now the thought of the inevitable loss of Jaskier all running into each other and piling up and taking his legs out from under him. He sits down hard on the bed, his face in his hands.

There’s a long pause, then a rustling and a clinking sound he barely registers, before Jaskier’s voice, much close than before, says, “Here.”

When he looks up, the bard is standing before him, eyes red and cheeks tear-tracked, expression hard. He’s holding out a vial. Geralt takes it on instinct, body not needing input from his brain to trust that anything Jaskier gives him is safe to consume.

“It’s White Honey, not Wives’ Tears, but it should still help.”

“Where- why? How?”

Jaskier shrugs. “Guess I never got out of the habit of carrying the basics. Vesemir let me nick a few from the stores here, since all my things in Oxenfurt have probably been picked off by now.”

Bewildered, Geralt drinks the potion down. It isn’t as instantaneous as Tears would be, but alcohol is close enough to toxicity that he still feels his head start to clear. There’s so much he wants to address about everything Jaskier just said, but he has no idea where to start.

“Didn’t mean it like that, y’know. I swear. I didn’t.”

“Forgive me if that doesn’t make me feel better, Geralt. How the fuck did you mean it, then? How exactly am I meant to take hearing that I don’t belong here, and you wouldn’t have brought me if you had another choice?”

Fuck. That does sound really bad out loud. Geralt never meant for him to hear any of that, but that’s no excuse.

“’s not- ugh. It’s not that you don’t- it’s here, Jas, not you. Here doesn’t belong with...fuck. I hate this. You know I’m no good at this!”

Jaskier continues to lean against the desk, arms crossed. He raises one eyebrow, and Geralt knows no help is coming. He isn’t being let off the hook this time. He puts his face back in his hands with a groan. He almost wishes he hadn’t taken the Honey, maybe alcohol would loosen his tongue enough to help explain to Jaskier why he should want to get off this mountain as fast as possible, why belonging here was the last thing Geralt wants for him, wants for anyone he loves.

(He balks a little at the word, but inside his own mind, at least for now, it’s easy enough to ignore. And it’s not like he hasn’t know its true for years; its just one of the many things he decided a long time ago to pretend weren’t happening to him. The Child Surprise and the djinn wish came back to bite him in the ass, but surely it can’t hurt to ignore this lesson one more time, right?)

“You don’t belong in this place, just like- just like you don’t belong with me, ok?”

The moldy, rotten scent of grief and hurt swells so quickly Geralt almost sneezes. He looks up in alarm to see Jaskier staggering back towards the wall, away from Geralt, a look on his face like the witcher had just carved up his sister in front of him. He looks gutted. Fuck, that hadn’t come out right either, had it?

“Well, witcher, that certainly does clear things up. I suppose I should thank you for refraining from screaming my faults in my face this time. I apologize for having inflicted my presence on you for so long, then. Message received.” Geralt winces at the epithet, always before so soft in Jaskier’s mouth, so full of affection and admiration, now sharp and bloody on his lips.

“Wait, no, fuck, that isn’t what I meant!”

“No need to explain any further. You can go back to your brothers now, I’m sure they’re missing you. I can finish packing on my own. I’ll be gone in the morning, you won’t have to suffer me any further.”

“Jaskier, would you fucking listen to me? I don’t mean I don’t want you here! Of course I want you here! I always want you here!” Geralt is shouting now, desperation flooding him with adrenaline that feels remarkably like familiar, comfortable anger, and he leans into it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You just told me I don’t belong here in your home, I don’t belong by your side, you only allowed me here because you had no choice, your brother called me useless and you flat-out agreed with him, how fucking dare you tell me you want me here! It’s cruel to toy with me like this, Geralt! You’re many things, but I’ve never known you to be cruel before, so please just go and let me take myself off your fucking hands in peace!”

Geralt feels frantic, out of control. Jaskier is slipping through his fingers and he doesn’t know which words to pick to stop it from happening. The thought that just an hour ago, he was planning out the best way to take the bard down the mountain as soon as the snow cleared, to send him back to a better, safer, happier life, a life without Geralt in it, doesn’t occur to him. Everything is blanked out by terror, leaving only the singular thought that he has to make Jaskier stop looking like that, stop smelling like that, has to fix what he keeps breaking.

“You don’t belong with me because you belong somewhere better, you fucking moron!”

Hm. Not quite the tone he was going for, but closer than before, at least.

Jaskier has stopped moving altogether, and is staring at him in something like shocked incredulity. At least he’s stopped shoving potions into his satchel, which is something.

Geralt can see Jaskier trying to formulate a response, emotions shifting rapidly across his face as his scent fluctuates wildly, pingponging from rage to hope to hurt and back again. Eventually he seems to settle on flat indignation.

“I’m going to need you to elaborate on that, Geralt. I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” Based on the expression on his face, Geralt doubts that, but apparently being forced to articulate himself is his punishment for being an ass.

“You don’t- you aren’t- ugh. You’re good, Jaskier! You’re light and laughter and softness. You’re pretty silks and rich foods and shiny jewelry. You play for kings and queens, you have Oxenfurt panting after you every year to teach more classes, you’ve had half the pretty people on the Continent in your bed, and every one of them has begged you not to leave! I’ve known it since we met, Jaskier, you don’t belong on the Path. You don’t belong in the damp and the muck and the blood and the shit. You don’t belong with a fucking Butcher! I tried so hard, Jaskier, for so long, to make you leave. To make you see that you deserve more. Deserve better. I don’t know why the fuck you kept coming back, but I thought after the mountain I had finally done it, I had finally made you see. But I was weak and when Yen fucked me over I got scared, I came to you because you’re the only person I know who would keep coming back, who I could trust with Ciri because you kept picking me for all those years when I didn’t deserve it. But you were supposed to be gone! You were supposed to be safe! You should have been happy in Oxenfurt without me, and instead I dragged you back into this nightmare and almost got you killed and now you’re stuck in this horrible keep full of the ghosts of dead witchers and my idiot dickhead brothers and I can’t even get my shit together enough to be nice to you! Why the fuck are you here, Jaskier? Why the fuck do you want to belong here? It’s fucking terrible here! You should be somewhere better!”

Geralt collapses back onto the side of the bed, having gotten up to pace at some point during that monologue, most of which was less conscious speech and more “ripped straight out of his ribcage by some unseen force.” Fuck, he’s actually winded. He hasn’t shouted that much without stopping since the Trials, he doesn’t think.

Jaskier is staring again, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline and his mouth hanging open. Geralt very carefully does not think about Jaskier’s open mouth, in much the same way he has carefully not thought about Jaskier’s mouth for the last 15 years or so.

It takes a moment for Jaskier to gather his thoughts, and Geralt thinks it might be the longest moment of his life thus far. He fights the urge to fidget with his hands, a nervous habit he didn’t realize he had picked up from the bard until after the mountain, and thereafter made a deliberate effort to squash.

Finally Jaskier seems to come to some internal decision, and he nods to himself before meeting Geralt’s eyes squarely. “I have a number of questions, Geralt, but the first and most consequential is this: who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Wh- huh?” Apparently Geralt has spent all of the words he had available, which isn’t terribly surprising given the circumstances. That isn’t where he expected Jaskier’s reaction to go, though.

“I said, witcher, who the fuck do you think you are, to decide for me the company I should keep and the kind of life I should lead?”

Well, shit. “That’s not- I wasn’t-”

“Because the last person to try that was the Count de fucking Lettenhove, darling, and I assure you, it didn’t work for him, either.”

Geralt blinks. His brain latches onto the pet name, which seems like it must be an improvement over witcher spat with such vitriol, even if it still sounds distinctly like an insult in that tone. He fights to regain some of his footing in this conversation, which is rapidly changing directions to somewhere he did not expect and is not prepared for, to no avail. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Jaskier isn’t done.

“Do you really think me so shallow? So soft? That I’m nothing but silks and sex and a pretty face? Do you think the university wants me to teach because I’m- what was it Lambert called me? Frilly? Do you know what I was doing in Oxenfurt before you found me? Because I assure you, dear heart, I wasn’t fucking lounging about on featherbeds drinking Toussainti wine!”

Geralt’s brow furrows in confusion, which seems to stoke the bard’s ire from embers to a conflagration.

“You fucker, that is what you fucking thought! You never even fucking asked, you utter ass! I was bloody tortured for you and you want to send me back because, what, you think whenever I’m not with you I’m fulfilling my life’s fucking purpose as a vapid, foppish little brat? You don’t fucking know me at all, do you? I can’t fucking believe you right now!” Jaskier’s face is flushed with anger, teeth bared and scent spiking burnt and bitter.

Geralt’s thoughts have all screeched to a grinding halt, the room fading out around him as his focus narrows completely to the man before him.

“Tortured?” His voice quavers in a way that would probably embarrass him if he could think about anything but Jaskier’s voice on a loop in his head, tortured tortured tortured. He’s had this nightmare before, a dozen times and more.

Jaskier seems to bring himself up short, confusion flashing briefly across his face. “I- yes? Yen said she told you...I thought that’s why you came for me?”

“She said. She. She said you were “in some trouble.” The guard outside the jail said you were locked up for peeping. I just assumed…”

Jaskier’s face has gone flat and blank again, and the rotten smell of hurt is swirling in the air again, mixing unpleasantly with the burnt anger smell and turning Geralt’s stomach.

“You just thought I had done something stupid and selfish and probably involving my dick, and never thought to question it or ask me if I was alright.”

“I- yes. I mean no, I- I should have- I- Jaskier, please, what happened?” He isn’t proud of the pleading note in his voice, but the longer he waits for answers the stronger the urge gets to throw himself off the tallest tower the keep has, or grab Jaskier around the middle and wrap him in blankets and never let him out of his sight, neither of which he thinks would go over well with the other residents.

A note of uncertainty creeps into Jaskier voice and demeanor, which Geralt finds somehow more painful than the anger. “I- there was a mage. He was looking for you. Well, I think ultimately he was looking for Ciri, but he knew he needed to find you first. And I guess I’ve done quite a good job tying our reputations together over the years, and I wasn’t exactly hard to track down, so I guess…”

A mage…“Firefucker.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh, a bitter, unhappy thing. “An appropriate moniker. I see you ran into him eventually.” He looks up in sudden alarm. “I didn’t- Geralt, I didn’t tell him anything. I swear I didn’t. I mean, I said you told me of a witcher keep, but I told him that the fortress in the mountains was a story I made up, and even if he took that and ran with it, I never even said which mountains! I promise, Geralt, I’d have died before I let him hurt you, or Ciri, I swear it.”

Geralt isn’t sure how many times his heart can break in a single day, in a single conversation. Surely it can’t be many more after this, can it?

“I...I’m not worried about that, Jaskier. In fact, if anything like that ever happens in the future, you tell them everything. Whatever they want to know. You tell them everything you know, before you let them hurt you, Jaskier, please, promise me you’ll tell them.”

Jaskier’s eyes seem older than Geralt has ever seen them, full of a boundless sadness he never wants his bard to have to feel ever again. “You know I can’t promise that, my dear. If I had to do it over, I’d do it all again. I’d suffer him burning my fingers clean off before I let him anywhere near you.”

Geralt reaches for Jaskier’s hand automatically, only realizing at the last moment that he might not welcome the touch. He withdraws his hand reluctantly, trying to subtly angle his head instead to see Jaskier’s fingers where they’re tucked under his crossed arms.

“Are you- did they- how-” Luckily Jaskier seems to have retained his fluency in Geraltese, and holds out his right hand for inspection. The skin is shiny and red, obviously burned, but definitely in the later stages of healing. There are no open sores or blisters, and he winces in discomfort but not pain when he stretches the mottled skin by splaying his fingers out.

“Yennefer was kind enough to take a look at them earlier, once we were sure none of you were being stoic idiots and hiding injuries. They’ll be alright eventually, she thinks. And it isn’t like I have a lute to play at the moment, anyway, so it’s no great hardship to rest them while they heal. I had some trouble writing earlier, but I didn’t put all that effort in school into being able to write with either hand for nothing. You needn’t worry about me, Geralt. I’m fine, I promise.”

Geralt is quite sure he isn’t fine at all. None of this is fine. Every part of this is setting off a screaming klaxon in his head of wrongWrongWRONG and he has no idea how to fix any of it. The choice of room suddenly makes a great deal more sense, though, as does the magelight. Geralt feels a sudden, fierce rush of gratitude for Yen. Even though he’s still furious with her, and it’ll be a long time before he trusts her the way he once did, she’s obviously been taking care of Jaskier where he has failed utterly in doing so, and he’s desperately thankful that at least his inattention hasn’t left Jaskier completely alone. He isn’t sure when the two of them got as close as they clearly are, but upon reflection, he finds no jealousy, only gratefulness and a hint of chagrin that he has so clearly failed where the two of them have succeeded in making each other happy.

Jaskier is still holding his injured hand out between them. Geralt moves slowly, waiting for any sign that Jaskier doesn’t want him near, reaching out to grasp it gently, careful of the inflamed skin. Jaskier lets him, sitting down beside him on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. I’m sorry I sent you away, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from this. I’m sorry you were hurt because of me. This is the opposite of what I wanted. I hoped you would be safer without me. Happier. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“There you go again, martyring yourself on the altar of other people’s choices. When will you learn, Geralt? You’re so desperate to push away anyone who gets close, because you think you’re some kind of curse on our lives. That’s bollocks. We stay because we want to. We sacrifice because we want to. We risk danger because we want to. Because being around you is worth it. We’re not asking for protection, or saving, or glitz and glamor. We’re only asking to stay. Because we want to. Because you’re worth it, you unbelievable moron. Stop trying to make everyone else’s choices for them, for once.”

He isn’t sure he can wrap his head around that right now, so he doesn’t try, but he does tuck it close to his heart for safekeeping, to turn it over in his hands later like a precious stone. He’s still holding Jaskier’s hand, and he squeezes gently for lack of a better response.

“I am sorry, you know. For what I said in Caingorn. It wasn’t true. None of it. I shouldn’t have lashed out when you were just trying to help.”

“You know it was never about what you said, right?”

Geralt makes a questioning noise, and Jaskier rolls his eyes.

“I’ve known you for 25 years, shithead, you don’t think I know how you get when you’re angry? You don’t think I can tell when you’re pissed at yourself and taking it out on whatever’s nearby? You think I haven’t heard worse insults from you than a bunch of blatant falsehoods and a melodramatic declaration of never wanting to see me again? Please, I got more cutting rebukes from my kid cousins growing up. Yes, it was shitty, and yes, it stung in the moment, but I never took it to heart.”

Fearing to know, but needing the answer all the same, Geralt asks, “What, then? I heard the song, you know.” The sharp intake of breath tells him Jaskier knows which song he means. “In Aedirn, in some backwater town. There was some nobody bard there, but even if he performed it terribly, I could tell it was yours. I had thought about looking for you once I got Ciri settled, but when I heard that song...I knew there was no fixing it. I knew you hated me properly, after that. So if it wasn’t what I said, what was it?”

Geralt hears the hitch in Jaskier’s breath and smells the salt of his tears, but he can’t bring himself to look up for this. He can’t bear to be looking into those blue eyes he loves so dearly as Jaskier explains how Geralt managed to destroy the best thing in his long, wretched life. He does hold his hand a little tighter, and hopes it’s enough to keep him here.

“I’m sorry for that. I needed to write it, but I should never have played it for anyone. I never meant to, really. You never should have heard it, and I’m sorry you had to. I was angry when I wrote it, and bitter, and...well. Heartbroken, I suppose. It’s no excuse, though.”

Geralt has a lot of questions about that, actually, but he still needs an answer to the one he already asked. “Why did you write it, then? If it wasn’t...what was it, Jaskier? What did I do?”

“You didn’t come back.”

He does look up then, confused, searching Jaskier’s face for clarity. He looks haunted, and desperately sad. He apparently reads Geralt’s need for clarification on his face, and continues.

“It was hardly the first time you got angry and took it out on me because I was the closest target. Not that that’s a great pattern in itself,” Geralt winces in agreement and apology, “but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to. I knew the routine- you get mad, you lash out, you cool off, you give me the biggest portion of supper or a sweetbun from the market or swing towards a town sooner than we have to instead of apologizing out loud, I forgive you, we move on.

“I figured I would head back to the camp, let you cool off for a few hours, and then try again. Of course, then I talked to Borch and got the bones of what had happened, and I realized it was bigger than I’d thought, and you might need longer to calm down, so when I realized you weren’t coming back right away, I managed to tag along with the dwarves on the way down. I grabbed the essentials out of Roach’s packs and set up at the inn at the foot of the mountain. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I left nearly all our coin with you. I only took enough for a night’s room and supper, since I was too tired to play after the hike down.

“I waited for you, Geralt. I stayed posted up there for three weeks. When you never came, I thought maybe you had just needed even more time alone, so once I’d overstayed my welcome there I started making my way towards Oxenfurt- the long way, mind, I swung all the way inland to Ard Carriagh, hoping to catch you on your way home for the winter. I made sure to be as loud and ostentatious as I could, so you’d be able to track me down when you were ready. Months I waited, Geralt. Months.

“I didn’t accept that you weren’t coming back for me until spring. That’s when I gave up.” Geralt’s heart cracks for what must be the dozenth time tonight, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. “I ended up at the Seat Of Friendship, looking for some kind of community, of purpose, to fill the space you left. That’s when I wrote- well. That’s when I wrote that song. And it was good, there. I missed you, I was hurt, but I felt safe, and appreciated, and understood. It was like being a student again, surrounded by other artists, all feeding off each other’s creative energy. And then…” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and clutches Geralt’s hand tight enough to hurt anyone who wasn’t a witcher.

“It was a massacre, Geralt. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t- I couldn’t-” He breaks off again, choking on a sob. Unable to stand it any longer, Geralt tucks an arm around his shoulders, pulling him tentatively closer. Jaskier crumples, collapsing into Geralt’s chest and clutching at his tunic as he sobs into his neck. Geralt rubs soothing circles into Jaskier’s back, like he used to sometimes when they shared a bedroll and Jaskier would wake them both with nightmares of a childhood he refused to discuss.

Long minutes later, Jaskier’s weeping slows, cries quieting to whimpers. He draws back from Geralt’s shoulder enough to swipe the sleeve of his doublet over his face, blotchy and red and tear-stained as it is. Geralt is reluctant to move his arm from around Jaskier’s shoulders, but luckily Jaskier only settles more comfortably into his side, still sniffling. Geralt savors the solid warmth of him against his side as he waits for him to be ready to continue.

“There was nothing I could do to save them. I barely made it out alive myself. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless, Geralt. So useless. I had to do something. I’d have gone mad if I didn’t. So, I took some of the coin from my father’s coffers, and bought a tavern in Oxenfurt, right on the pier. I managed to leverage my spywork to coax some more coin out of the Redanian Crown, and used that to set up a smuggling network with some old connections from my school days and a handful of likeminded survivors of Bleobheris, and I became the Sandpiper.

“The song was never meant to be public, truly. Right after I bought the pub, before the network was fully set up, I was...struggling. Owning a bar means pretty much unlimited access to alcohol and I...well. I don’t remember a lot of those first few weeks, really. I woke up one particular morning with no memory of the night before, until I was playing my set that night and people started requesting Burn, Butcher, Burn. Apparently I’d been feeling especially maudlin the night before and I played it while I was blackout drunk. There was a witcher in town, as I recall. Something about a monster in the sewers under the university, I was trying not to pay a lot of attention. He was a Bear, if the rumors were correct, but still close enough to set off unwanted memories, and send me to the bottom of several bottles.”

Guilt and resentment war for dominance in Geralt’s gut, churning violently. He wants to stop Jaskier, doesn’t want to hear any more, but he can’t, and he knows he shouldn’t.

“It was never meant to get out. My life’s work has been erasing the Butcher of Blaviken from history entirely. I was angry, Geralt, I am angry, but I never wanted to use that name against you. Never that. I am truly sorry for that.”

Geralt can hardly believe that after everything Jaskier has just explained, all the anguish Geralt had caused with his selfish, childish actions, that Jaskier is still apologizing to him. Sure, he hates that fucking song, but it isn’t like he hasn’t earned the name, both times apparently.

“You don’t- I’m not- You don’t owe me an apology, Jaskier. I would deserve it just for wounding you, now doubly so for not realizing just how deeply I had. I can’t...I don’t know how to fix it, Jaskier. I don’t know how to make it up to you. How can I fix it?”

Jaskier sits back, drawing his leg up onto the bed between them to better face Geralt head on. Geralt mourns the loss of contact, but holds Jaskier’s clear blue gaze with his own, hoping against hope that he’ll get to keep at least this, if nothing else.

“Are you going to send me away again?”

Geralt grimaces, but concedes it’s a fair question. “I thought it was the best thing for you, Jaskier. The safest thing. I only wanted you to be where you would be happiest.”

“That’s not your fucking call to make, witcher, and it’s not what I asked. Are you going to send me away again, yes or no?”

“No. Part of me still feels like I should, but I don’t think I could if I tried, anymore. I had been planning to, but when I came in here and you were packing, I...I’ve only felt fear like that when Yen took Ciri. Maybe it’s weak, but I don’t want to lose you again, Jaskier. I don’t want to be without you.”

Jaskier’s eyes are swimming with tears again, but his scent is full of cautious hope, telling Geralt he finally said something right.

“You’re a bastard and an idiot, and I want to stab you a little bit for that answer, but I’m going to focus on the positives because I’m fucking exhausted. We can deal with the rest tomorrow.” He pauses, uncharacteristically self-conscious. “Will you...will you stay with me tonight? I just- the nightmares used to be easier with you there, on the Path, and I thought, if you were alright with it, we could-”

Geralt takes pity and cuts him off. “I’ll stay. Do you...would you come to my room instead? The bed is bigger, there. There’s a hearth, but I can put it out if you need. It should be warm enough with an extra fur or two, with two of us in the bed.”

The sour smell of embarrassment fills the air as a blush creeps up Jaskier’s neck. “That obvious, huh?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jaskier. You were hurt with fire, fear is a normal reaction. It should fade eventually, and I’ll help you in the meantime. We all will. You already have Yen wrapped around your finger, if she’s conjuring you magelights.”

The attempt at levity works, drawing a chuckle from the bard as he looks up at the light hanging above their heads. Geralt notes with vague interest that it apparently followed Jaskier across the room when he moved to sit by Geralt, meaning it will probably also follow him up to Geralt’s room, eliminating the need to make Jaskier anxious with torches. Geralt will have to track Yen down tomorrow and thank her, anger or not. She really has come through for Jaskier, and that’s a debt Geralt can never repay.

The newfound camaraderie between the bard and the witch raises some interesting possibilities for the shape of his relationships with both of them eventually, but that’s a thought for far, far in the future. He has bridges to construct and trust to rebuild with both of them before that’s worth thinking about, and Ciri will have to be all of their first priorities for a while yet, but it’s nice to have something to look forward to. Geralt had almost forgotten what being hopeful for the future felt like, he’s spent so long running from it or assuming he didn’t have one. It’s nice, he thinks. Strange, but nice.

But that’s for later. For now, he has a bed waiting for him, and a bard to fill it with him, and the promise of at least one more day without that bard fleeing Geralt’s brutish ways down the mountain. He has a daughter to train in the morning, and brothers to tease for their inevitable hangovers, and a father to thank for looking out for his bard while he couldn’t, and a witch to start to reconcile with.

It’s enough, for now. It’s enough.

#the witcher #twn #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #eskel #lambert #the witcher fanfiction #my writing #i’m sorry they talk so much #i always start out with such grand ideals of being funny and poignant #and then it’s just two dumbasses spouting exposition at each other for 3k words #if i could make them stop i would #snaksofhdbkaksjd i just! realized i forgot about coen!!!#he’s uhhhhh asleep already whoops #my brain has so thoroughly classified him as Not A Wolf that i fully forgot he should be there at the start of this ahhhhh i’m so sorry coe

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smol-tired-binch-blog · 11 months

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hate how im now at a point where im legit like kicking my legs and grinning like an idiot over fictional characters SEND HELP

#take One Guess who im talking about. YES ITS KOI BOI #hes so prettyyyyy and cute and lovely and i love looking at him i wanna hear him speak and laugh and sing just AAAAAAAAAAAA #(turns to my own brain) BITCH WE ARE MEANT TO BE AROACE WHY ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH TWO FICTIONAL CRIMINALS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?????#my brain: (that fuckin anime girl gif from evangelion (i think??))#like fuuuuuck man is it self shipping if u use a proxy? like. hes an oc but he's a stand in for me. he is me and i am him but we also arent #he is his own person and i am my own our lives are very very different but i use him to express love for Mad Dog and Koi Boy #cause they could actually love him if i were in their world i wouldnt stand a chance but my boy has one so he loves them for me #its far easier to imagine him kissing them than it is for me to imagine myself kissing them but that might be because im wired weird #idk it *feels* like it counts yknow. my dumbass out here gettin jealous when i see a Certain Ship cause like i disagree with it on #a Fundamental Level. and on TOP of that half the time the art is so CUTE and im like 'motherfucker that should be ME' or i guess my lad but #STILL am i making sense?? doesnt help that i worry im like. misreading what content i have but also fuck you i can do what i want and also #i get him more than yall kgyugkhjhk (jk jk. Unless) basically when i call them my boyfriends i fuckin mean it #look its Real Missing Nishiki Hours i love him i wanna kiss his perfect face someone shoulda shown him love i could save him and he could #make me worse <3 I Want Him #and do not get me wrong i may be focused on him but Majima is still my wifey too!!! hes mine you cant have her <3 #i just have koi boy brainrot i very much desire them Both (YES THAT MIGHT BE WHY I SHIP THEM TOO LOOK I ALSO THINK THEYD WORK WELL TOGETHER #OR AT LEAST HAVE A FUN DYNAMIC TO EXPLORE I SHOULD DATE THEM AND THEY SHOULD DATE EACH OTHER WE ALL HAVE 2 HANDS)#might delete this in the mornin who knows but im feelin silly i wanna talk about them i wanna talk about my boy but idk if ppl would really #GET IT yknow i can think of maybe Two People and that INCLUDES bestie but just aaaa point is i love my koi boy so much hes so lovely <3 <3

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todayisafridaynight · 7 months

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Wanna put your friend in a lil terrarium just to see what wacky things she does stg 😂

i actually Cannot Stress the migraine she gives me every time we hang out. like without fail she'll always say or do something that ranges from mildly questionable or irritating but relatively Whatever to How Have You Survived This Long Without Burning Your House Down Boiling An Egg

#snap chats #and then there's her just forgetting things or being late despite the amount of times ill remind her #and i keep stressing to her i cannot stand it when people are late. and then she shows up to things an hour late anyway #or 'when shes late' by fifteen minutes because she didnt think to text me she's there. and im already stressed and annoyed I. UGH i swear.#LIKE. i have only really had two irl friends and both of them i lowkey had to parent in some way #at least my childhood bestie she's like. she's grown a lot and even if i havent spoken to her in a while im real proud of her right #THIS MOTHERFUCKER THO. OUUUUUGGGH.... youre not supposed to say anythin if you dont got nothin nice to say #which is contradictory to the main body text but point is let me Not be any more mean than how ive been already LMAO #even funnier about her looking at that comic is that LITERALLY masumi says he's talking to jo ☠️☠️☠️☠️#did i already say i have to remind her who jo is every three seconds #like the entirety of chap 2 when ichi's out of jail she was all 'why doesnt he just say who ACTUALLY killed the guy'#and then when we finally run into the fuckass who 'actually killed the guy' she's just 'wait who's that'#then i tell her and shes like 'oh my god he's so old now' IT'S BEEN 18 YEARS DUMBASS #ngl did wanna make a comic based off that LMAO BUT POINT IS she tests my patience every day and i think its good practice #if im going to work with people in the future like ohh.. my god....#she told me once she's never been on a date and its like. yeah i wonder why you can't even be assed to show up on time to hangouts ☠️#like ive never had friends so maybe im just insane.. im not insane for wanting people to be on time tho....#OK IM BEING TOO MEAN LET ME CAP IT THERE

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deus-ex-mona · 9 months

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[sad shipper noises]

#im just holding out for future seasons of the anime adaptation to bring in more shippers tbh~~~~#which is. highly unlikely in all honesty since i hardly e v e r see anyone talk about the series #but yk!!!! it’s just!!!! when the two rival dudes claim to hate each other y e t they bring out the best in each other!!!!!#and they defend each other!! and protecc each other!!! and accidentally force their common enemy to play mediator for them in their spats—#b u t they still continue to fight over the smallest of things despite how much they care for each other and that’s just. precious tbh…#enemies to rivals to lovers between two complete dumbasses is peak romance to me tbh #make one of them an obnoxious loudmouth and the other one a (mostly) straightfaced stoic and you’ve got yourself a top tier ship—#e s p e c i a l l y if the stoic dude drops his typically aloof attitude to duke it out with the loudmouth when provoked…#it’s just!!!!! the ships that bring out both the best and the worst in each other are!!!!!!! so cute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#(this post is about l a n c e x d o t from m a s h l e pls do not detract)#auuauauaaaaa i miss them smmmmmm im looking forward to next year just for season 2 of the anime lol

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fadeintoyou1993 · 5 months

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this website and the ppl on here are a joke genuinely

#txt #steve and edd*e talked twice in the whole season in may 2022 and yall wont shut the fuck up about them NOW like #this is how sad yall are about white men.#and byler... a joke on its own. like dont this make yall depressed. Im like bummed out #i dont rmr what no5 was but the top 4 being white mlm is literally so telling of the experience as a dyke of color on this website scream..#and 2 of them being boring made up ships from an equally undervelopped show tht has a fandom that gen only cares abt the (white) men on it..#blocked out destiel in respect of the destiel newsletter and also i just dont feel like dissing it bc at least they contributed to something #these other two lame ass dumbass ships however.... cant even slay enough to have a meme and are only pop cos yall have no taste.#Sad. boring.

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inevitablestars · 1 year

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i keep seeing people compare the number of fics on ao3 against how many wolfstar has and saying "____" should have more

just shut up and go read what is there or write it yourself xx

#like first off that's wolfstar. get your conversation away from them #i saw one that was about dorlene which yes i love love love dorlene and i always love finding fics of them!#but that doesn't mean the nearly 5000 works already posted don't matter #like if i want to read dorlene i will go and search and find a dorlene fic to read not come online to bitch about how there needs to be more #i just wanna ask these bitches making these comparisons if they have read every single fic under the ship they're talking about #5000 is still a TON of fics maybe it's less than what wolfstar has but those are two different entities #just going on line to say look at many more fics x has than y! we need more y!' like oh my god shut up #read what is already there.#EXCEPT people aren't going to do that bc these little twitter and tiktok gremlins (derogatory) don't search on ao3 #all they do is wait for one to get popular and hop on that which is beside the point. BUT like read the fics that exist #and they act like they should be on a pedestal for shouting about the lack of fics when in reality there are thousands #this got so rambly i'm sorry i'm just annoyed from seeing these dumbass complaints from people

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anumberofcatschilling · 4 months

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paragon that dabbles in dark magic x their dumbass friend

#this was the dynamic i realized I'd made between two of my OC's when I wrote out how each of them would talk about the other if one of them #had passed away (one of which is canon)#both are well-meaning #paragon helps dumbass with harder questions of life and tending to them after shenanigans #dumbass fights harder for paragon and provides them some support when the world becomes too much #writeblr #writing #character dynamics #ship dynamics #friend dynamics #writer #writers

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m4gp13 · 2 years

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“I’m going to write a quick little one-shot,” they said

“It can be a fun mini project while I’m studying,” they said

#zoid and layes I completely blame you two for getting me invested in these four dumbasses #none of them want to talk about their feelings #so now I have to sit here for another ten chapters #or something along those lines #until these dead evil pricks can figure things out #one at a bloody time #that I'm not even close to finishing #pjo #ethan nakamura #alabaster torrington #alabaster c torrington #Octavian (pjo)#rick don't be shy give him a canon surname #bryce lawrence

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ghostighostly · 5 months

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I have made. Many mistakes,,,

I've gone from 'eh i never do anything dont worry we can play videogames!' To 'Sorry cant talk i have the next 3 weeks scheduled to the second and am actively having a panic attack. Bye!'

How did this happen? Christmas. And divorce, but that's less impactful.

I will now proceed to rant in the tags gootbye forever.

#ghosti talks #OKAY.#I HAVE A MILLION AND ONE PROJECTS AND HAVE CHOSEN THE WORST TIME TO RANT ABOUT THEM.#HERE WE GO #first off i decided a month ago that christmas holidays was art study time!! all two weeks just hand studies and chill #then my dad moved out and my dumbass said 'oh heck yea i need a project ill come help with literally everything!'#then forgetting i already had a project went and told some other people 'oh you wanna fix the jrwi wiki? i am so down fuck fandom! i need a-#project anyways!#boom. millions dead.#i also decided hey why not do a bunch of art before christmas for all my online friends i only have *checks discord* 30..?#boom. trillions dead #wait theres only 7billion people uhm #whatever im fucming dying #AND GUESS WHO JUST TOOK A SHOWER #all the thoughts and ideas are rushing into my brain all at once and i cannot afford to fail even one of these tasks ive given myself #because im me.#dear god save my soul i will get no sleep tonight. pain pain pain..........#oh yea these are the main 3 projects btw im also having too deal with my trillion hyperfixations and the fact that my notifs are constantly #full and i have to completly tidy my old room at my mothers and the whole house cause hey why not its productiv month #aka. burnout month!!#so yeag #sorry for spilling literally all my personal life stuff on this public site whoopsie #is ok no one gives a shit *gets shot in the head with a sniper*#*is bleeding out on the floor*#okay goobye :3

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yin-yanglulu · 5 months

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Anyways, The Big Bang event was pretty solid! Def better than Fracture (although it was a little too short imo)

Excited to see what happens tomorrow!

#fortnite #lulu.txt #although I’m not gonna be happy if Peter Griffin ends up being in the battle pass bc I DON’T FUCKING CARE!#yea yea y’all got what you wanted #the best thing about him being in the next season is that THOSE STUPID ASS RUMOURS FROM TWO YEARS AGO CAN FINALLY END!#AND WE NEVER HAVE TO BRING HIM UP WHEN TALKING ABOUT RUMOURS AND LEAKS EVER AGAIN!#if i unfortunately have to get him I’m gonna immediately vault him #LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO THE SHADOW REALM 🅱️ETER/j #also: oh hai snake!#at least this means that if they ever make the dumbass decision to put ai in the game we can tell them that this isn’t what snake would want #(bc of the fact that snake’s va rightfully hates ai stuff)#also I have a feeling that Homelander is gonna take Peter’s place as the character always brought up in rumours and leaks #also manifesting that the Lego stuff means potential Bionicle collab

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flamboyantpigeon · 10 months

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btw if any previous fans of unus annus miss seeing ethan being silly with someone else then i highly recommend his podcast ''brain leak'' with sean!!

youtube

#unus annus #crankgameplays #jacksepticeye #ethan nestor #sean mcloughlin #brain leak #brain leak podcast #whenever ethan brainstorms future episodes some of them remind me of scrapped ua ideas lol #also they got matching tattoos?? wtf that's so cool #anyway please watch these two beautiful dumbasses talk about stuff #they give me such ua vibes it's such a treat to watch them :)#Youtube

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razzle-zazzle · 1 year

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Ramble about more Dion x Morris x Gisu plz

Okay okay so. In my other post I mentioned having a lot of thoughts on how they get together.

ahaha this got longer than i expected it to so under a cut it goes

So. We've got Dion and Gisu making googoo eyes at each other. They've kind of discussed what's going on between them, and they've kind of just mutually hooked up without really talking about it because they're both interested and soft romantics and dumb teenagers. Morris and Gisu are friends, and Morris is becoming friends with Raz and Queepie; this creates plenty of opportunities for Morris and Dion to interact.

It takes a while, for Dion and Morris' idiot rivalry to crystalize into a friendship. Takes a while for Dion's annoyance and Morris' dares to turn into camaraderie, for their challenges and arguments to become a way to let off steam and break away from their responsibilities. But once they do, they start hanging out in more casual settings, start interacting on more even ground.

It starts when Dion's going through a routine, and Morris decides to catcall him, knowing that it'll annoy Dion to no end. He's right. He's so right about how much it annoys Dion that he does it again the next day, whooping and hollering obnoxiously.

"Oh, you want a piece of this, Martinez? Not my fault if I'm making you swoon!"

...Dion responds in kind. It throws Morris off for a second—but only a second before he shoots back with a "Well why don't you come over here, and show me up close?"

Gisu finds the fake flirting hilarious. She's laughing. Dion and Morris are trying to one-up and fluster each other in the most obnoxious way possible and she's laughing. She lives for the chaos, lives for banter and bickering and fighting that isn't serious in the end. And it really isn't serious—it's two idiots reciting sappy poetry and posturing like peacocks in an effort to one-up each other. It's Gisu occasionally pitching in a comment of her own about something sweet Dion did for her just to needle Morris. It's amusing to everyone else to watch these two idiots be idiots.

But Morris and Dion are not good at deescalating. They're not good at really knowing how to stop, once they get going. Not yet. And this isn't the kind of contest with a conclusive ending.

The shenanigans continue, along with all of the other stupid dares that Dion and Morris get up to—they're not doing the fake flirting all the time, and are generally just spending more time together as friends. The fake flirting has got a definite "Oh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid" feel to it. But ironically. Completely ironically, they swear. The other junior agents get annoyed after a while, but similarly write it off as a dumb little challenge that'll peter out eventually,,,,, hopefully,,,,

And then it isn't ironic. It hits Morris suddenly, the realization that Dion's voice makes him want to throw and kiss the acrobat in the same breath. It hits him suddenly, in the middle of an unrelated conversation, his brain making the connection.

It takes Dion a little longer to realize. A little longer to have his "oh god I want to punch him in the mouth,,, with my mouth" moment. When he does, it hits him like a truck.

This is the part where things get awkward. Oh, sure, it's hilarious that Dion & Morris essentially bamboozled themselves into Having Feelings For Each Other, but let's not forget Gisu! Morris doesn't want to ruin his friendship with her, Dion still has feelings for her and doesn't want to just break it off with her just because he went and fell for someone else at the same time. He may be a dumbass, but even he can recognize that that's a jerk move.

So. We hit the awkward awful drama part. The part where Dion and Morris both hit upon the conclusion to just. ignore the fact that there is a mutual romantic attraction between them. Except now their interactions have become stilted, awkward, edging into bitter, their bickering sliding into genuine arguments because they're angry with each other and themselves over the whole situation. Because they're teens who aren't sure how to interact with each other now—they're making a bigger deal out of this then it really is, but it still is a substantial shift in their dynamic that they're not sure how to handle.

As for Gisu? Oh, it was hilarious in the beginning. She was living for the chaos. But now it's just... awkward. The guy she likes to hang out with and impress and kiss and her best friend can't talk to each other without getting in a genuine argument or shutting down. It's no longer fun for the three of them to hang out together, and Gisu can't stand it.

She pulls Dion aside because if there was ever a time for a serious talk, this is it. He affirms that he still likes her, and Gisu's still interested in him, but—

She wonders if maybe they should just try to settle into being friends. Maybe it'd be better if the three of them all shelved romance for now. After all, she's pretty sure that her and Dion being all sappy and trying to impress each other is just going to be a summer fling in the end, right? The Aquatos will leave to travel again, and Dion will run into some other pretty guy or girl and try to impress them.

But Gisu's a romantic idealist at heart, so she just kisses Dion and tells him she'll talk to Morris. And then he and Morris will talk, and work out whatever is going on between them. And everything will work out, because Gisu would much rather everything work out.

Gisu talks to Morris. He doesn't want "whatever I've tricked myself into having for Dion" to get between them. He just wants to get back to his radio station and put all of the drama behind them.

And it looks like it'll work! The three of them hang out—it starts out awkward, but then Gisu brings up how much she wants to try skating atop the Motherlobe, and suddenly Dion and Morris are encouraging her and helping her plot her way up there and Morris mentions he'll bring the camera and it's almost exactly like how the three of them interacted before all of this drama. It's great, and Gisu's having a good time—

She doesn't quite catch the exact moment it all fell apart. In hindsight, she'll remember that something Dion said must have rubbed Morris the wrong way, and Morris snapped back a sly little insult, and it must have devolved from there. But in the moment, it felt like Gisu was on top of the world one second, and then Dion and Morris were at each other's throats the next.

Gisu intervenes. It devolves into a three-way shouting match; Morris and Dion are shouting at each other, Gisu's shouting at them both for being immature, they're yelling at her to get out of it. Dion ends up going back to his family's camp angry and bitter. Morris' shoulders are hunched, his thoughts a low, jarring static to Gisu's senses. Gisu huffs and leaves to go skate her frustration off.

But Gisu's an idealist, like I said. She's stubborn, and she doesn't want to just give up just because things got a little heated. So she goes to Otto for advice. And then Milla. And she takes the time to think, and plan, and comes to a conclusion two days of Dion and Morris outright avoiding each other later.

"Right." Gisu drags them both out to a quiet little spot in the Questionable Area. "I'm not dealing with your awkward bullshit any longer. None of us are leaving this spot until we've worked," She gestures vaguely at all three of them, "this out. So. Start talking."

And that's where it starts. The conversation meanders, at first, with Morris and Dion dancing around the real issue until Dion caves and outright says that he likes both of them. A lot.

"And shit, I'm sorry for screaming at you." Dion adds, his eyes locked on the ground as he cringes. "I don't want to be fighting with you all the time. Not like that."

And Morris returns the sentiment. He's happy so long as he's got K.L.O.B. running, so long as he's still got his friends.

"But enough of this sappy junk." Morris waves a hand dismissively. "K.L.O.B.'s not going to run itself." He shrugs, affecting as casual an attitude as he can manage. "I'm fine with losing out to Gisu on the romance front anyway—that ship has clearly sailed."

"But what if romance didn't have to be a two-player game?"

Ah, yes, Gisu's sappy little heart and it's sappy little idealism.

Dion makes a soft noise somewhere between an inhale and a squeak, looking at Gisu with a look she can't parse. Morris blinks, equally caught off guard.

Gisu wonders if maybe she should backtrack.

She doesn't.

"I mean, I like Dion, you like Dion, and—and romance is just love and communication, right?" She shrugs. "So maybe we could..." She's not sure where she's going with this, but her mouth is moving faster than her brain can keep up. "Maybe it doesn't have to be a two-player game."

Dion makes a soft noise. “So we just all date each other? The three of us?”

“Maybe not all three of us.” Morris offers. “Maybe me and Gisu both date you? We could probably work out a timetable.”

And that's how it starts :]

Obviously they're not perfectly aligned right then and there—they spend some more time talking, trying to figure out what they want. Dion and Morris go on a date atop the waterrise ("first one to the top wins!" "oh, you're on."), and then Gisu drags Dion off for a "skatedate." Morris and Gisu request permission to go out to town and then go watch a movie together, trying to figure out if they're even interested in each other. The three of them hang out like they normally do, any awkwardness lingering in the air disappearing as they settle into a comfortable dynamic.

They don't tell anyone what's going on, not right away. They're all still trying to figure everything out themselves, sort-of sort-of-not dating while trying to get their bearings. Gisu and Dion do research on polyamory at the local library together. Morris subtly (read: very unsubtly) broaches the topic to Milla, asking her what she thinks of it. Milla correctly intuits what's going on and reminds Morris that "communication and consent are the basis of a healthy relationship."

So everyone (except Milla) initially assumes that Dion & Gisu are still dating, and whatever was going on with Dion & Morris has been worked out. Everything's back to normal, no need to worry about the rest of the junior agents being dragged into the drama.

Morris and Gisu and Dion slowly settle into a relationship. They have a few small fights, early on, a few disagreements as they slowly work out their new dynamic. Every time, they return to the same spot in the Questionable Area to hash it out. They're not perfect. But they're willing to work for it, all three of them.

They're still working out how to go about announcing it—Dion does want to tell his parents, he's still looking for the words—still working out how to explain it, when Norma, looking for Gisu to get her help with an assignment, finds Gisu and Morris having a picnic together, unambiguously making out.

It goes about as well as you'd expect.

#ask zaz #psychonauts #dion aquato #morris martinez #gisu nerumen #dion/morris/gisu #look i just. i have so many thoughts about morris and dion bamboozling themselves into Having Feelings For Each Other #they're teens they're clever they're dumbasses they're learning they're experimenting they're bonding #dion growing to love morris & gisu fiercely; growing to love when the three of them are all together just existing and doing things #gisu growing to love and appreciate all the little quirks that dion and morris have. having two people she can ramble to who will listen #to her just to hear her voice #morris growing to trust gisu and dion; to trust that they'll have his back and be there and be themselves #i just. mmmmm #years down the line they look back at all the drama surrounding their getting together #and gisu comments that ''it really is something out of a soap opera''#trying to hit a healthy balance of humor and drama with this #based on the fact that the three of them are teens of varying emotional intelligence #so like. there's some drama and it might feel a little world-ending to them. but it's not actually world-ending #and when they're able to cool off and actually talk to each other #they're able to hit upon the idea to try‚‚‚ dating each other #oh hey this is my 3500th post lmao #there is nothing significant about that i just think it's neat :]

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