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avengers-age-of-fanfics · 3 years

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just for you, honeybee (4/?)

pairings: steve rogers x fem!reader (platonic), bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: characters death, swearing, flirting with colonel phillips, guns, plane crash

word count: 4,327

a/n: holy crap this one is long! i really enjoyed writing this chapter just because i got to watch CA:TFA all over again and i cried like a little baby. hope you guys enjoy this! btw, next chapter is going to be very short - probably the shortest one yet, just a heads up!

“Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse,” Colonel Phillips started, “he thinks he’s a god and he’s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the U.S.A.”

You tensed up next to Steve as Howard moved behind you, taking a seat to your right, “Schmidt’s working with powers beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour.”

Peggy’s eyes met yours before they drifted to Steve who tossed a pile of papers on the table in front of him. One of the Howling Commandos spoke up, “how much time we got?”

Colonel Phillips sorted through some files, “according to my new best friend, under 24 hours.”

You spoke up, “where is he now?”

The Colonel presented the group with a photo, “Hydra’s last base is here. In the Alps, 500 feet below the surface.”

Another Howling Commando spoke up, “so what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can just knock on the front door.”

“Why not?” And just like that, Steve captured everyone’s attention in the room, including yours. You knew this was going to be a suicide mission, especially if he continued with this idea, “that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

Everyone looked at Steve with wide eyes, except for you and Peggy. Schmidt was in for a rude awakening.

Grabbing a motorcycle alongside Steve, the two of you headed into the snowy forest towards the base. Glancing over at Steve, you noticed he kept the design on the shield, joy sparking in your chest, “you kept it!”

Steve barely heard you over the sound of the motorcycles but he smiled, “not too shabby for your first Captain America design.”

You chuckled, about to respond until you glanced back, seeing six motorcycles behind you, “we got company, Cap!”

Quickly swerving back and forth to avoid whatever-the-hell they were shooting at you, Cap glanced back once more before he pushed a button on the pad attached to his motorcycle, two hooks with strings attached latching onto two trees. Right away, two guys on motorcycles failed to avoid the trap, sending them flying forward.

Cap yelled over to you, “get next to me!”

Speeding up a bit on your bike, you ended up next to Steve as he pressed another button, fire immediately covering two of the cyclists. You gave Steve a look, “that was so badass!”

On your left, you saw two Hydra motorcycles race ahead of you before you looked to Steve, “I got an idea! Move quickly!” Racing ahead, you quickly picked a pin from their motorcycles, making sure Steve was nowhere near them. Looking back, you sent a smirk his way as he sped up next to you, hearing and feeling the explosion of the motorcycles.

Riding towards the base, a tank was placed right before the entrance. Steve yelled, “stay right behind me,” just as the tank started shooting at you. Racing behind Cap, you both saw the tank explode as Steve shot at it from his motorcycle, riding up the cement barrier of the base.

Jumping over the barriers with your bikes, both you and Steve were met with Hydra soldiers with guns pointed right at you. Continuing your ride, you saw Steve jump off his, watching it explode the first wall of the base. Riding through the base, you quickly took down any soldier in your way, shooting them with your new best friend – StG 44.

Running a few fellas over with your bike, you looked over at Steve who was taking multiple soldiers down with the shield. Turning your attention back towards the fight, you continued to take down more men – but you noticed their numbers were growing bigger by the second.

In a spare glance, you turned to Steve who was now surrounded by two men holding flamethrowers, making it unable for him to move. You came to a stop, noticing a line of men pointing their guns at you. With a sigh, you hopped off your bike – but not before shooting one more guy by your feet.

You saw Cap look around for you worriedly until he met your eyes; you nodded at him, telling him to not put up a fight, at least not yet. He nodded back, allowing the Hydra soldiers to take both your weapons and leading you down the halls of the base and into a room that had it not hold one of the world’s most dangerous men, you’d say it had a beautiful view.

You and Steve stopped side-by-side with the Hydra soldiers as Johann Schmidt started talking, “arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anybody.”

This was not what you expected Johann Schmidt to look like.

He glanced at you, “seems you have no limits, Captain, bringing a woman into this.”

You glared at the red-faced monster, “I came here on my own accord, just to clarify, Schmidt.”

Johann hummed as he turned away from you, “however, even you have limits as to what you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

Steve spoke up beside you, “he told me you were insane.”

Schmidt seemed unsurprised, looking down to the floor and back to Steve, “ah…he resented my genius and tried to deny what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?”

Steve chuckled, “nothin’. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Schmidt turned to you, “how about you, little one? What makes you so special?”

You swallowed thickly, “good looks?”

You nor Steve really aren’t sure what exactly set Johann off, but a switch had flipped, and his face grew into a frown before he slapped you across the face twice, doing the same to Cap while also kneeing him in the stomach. Both you and Steve were put on your knees as all three of you breathed heavily.

With a slight grin, Steve looked up at Johann, “I can do this all day.”

Johann was not amused, “oh, of course you can, of course.” He paused before he continued, pulling a gun out from the side of his uniform, “but unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule.” He pointed the gun to Steve’s head just as the Howling Commandos began to zip line towards the base.

You growled towards Schmidt, “so are we.”

Once Schmidt realized what was happening, you and Steve quickly grabbed the guards behind you, pulling them in front as Johann fired his gun at them, their bodies disappearing in thin air. You gave Steve a look as the Howling Commandos flew in through the windows, firing at the enemy as Schmidt took off.

Quickly getting up off your feet, you scurried towards the hall where Schmidt took off, a Howling Commando yelling behind you, “Rogers! You might need this!”

Hearing the shield pass through the air, you knew Steve caught it as he yelled back, “thanks,” then hearing his footsteps take after yours.

Hydra troops marched down the halls of the base, guns ready to fire at any moment. With your heightened sense of hearing, you knew the rest of the platoon was taking over the Hydra base, gunfire slowly taking over your senses. Explosions filled the base as smoke and fire entered your senses; Steve ran beside you, sensing the same things.

You saw Schmidt turn down a corridor, yelling over to Steve, “this way!” Quickly, Schmidt retaliated, sending bolts of his gun your way, making you narrowly avoid being disintegrated. Steve ran beside you, shield blocking the gunfire as you chased after the madman.

With a lucky throw, Steve threw the shield, catching it between metal doors where Schmidt narrowly escaped. Cap let out a sigh, rushing towards the shield as you quirked an eyebrow, “lucky throw?”

Before he could answer, a Hydra Agent came around the corner with two flamethrowers, making Steve push you against the wall as he ran opposite of you; you both were trapped as fire encapsulated your vision. Glancing towards the fire welder, you tried coming up with a plan before, lo and behold, Peggy Carter shot at the man, his flaming body falling to the ground.

Both you and Steve looked around the corner, spotting Peggy as soldiers ran by; Steve smirked at Peg, “you’re late.”

Your eyes shifted towards the ceiling as you tried to avoid the awkward moment; Peggy spoke up, “weren’t you about to –“ Steve nodded, “right, yeah – y/n.” With that, you and Steve took off towards the door where the shield held its place. Grabbing your hand, Steve pulled the shield and quickly took off.

You spotted men from the 107th shooting at the giant airship, Hydra agents lying about the floor. Turning to Steve, who was a few steps behind you, you nodded your head, “we got a problem.” The ship’s engines had already started, and it seemed Schmidt was, understandably, in a rush to complete his plan. The ship turned, wheels screeching against the floor as you and Cap slowed down, watching it slowly make its way to the exit.

Steve glanced around, watching as Hydra forces and your own fought one another. With a nod towards you, both you and Steve took off, running headfirst into battle, making sure to avoid trouble along the way; that, and, well, Steve also wanted to get some hits in.

You noticed where Cap was headed as you two ran in battle, “how do you plan on fitting us both on that?”

Steve glanced back at you, “think you can hold on, kid?”

You grumbled, “yeah! But I’m literally older than you by like, 4 months…”

Quickly, Steve jumped over huddled bodies until he reached a box of supplies lying right beneath a chain; with a jump, Steve latched onto the chain as you skipped a step, latching onto his waist mid-flight. Reaching a safe zone, you jumped first, meeting Steve in a mid-run as you headed towards the ship Johann Schmidt was currently about to fly.

You and Steve ran beside one another, pushing to reach Schmidt even as fire from the engines burnt your face. You yelled over to Steve, “c’mon, Steve! We’re – we’re almost there!” Your last sentence turned into a scream, your body yelling at you for pushing itself to the limits.

The fans from the ship sped up as you and Steve struggled to catch up with Schmidt, your hopes slowly fading as he seemed to get further and further away. Steve pulled you to a slow jog, about to crash until Peggy Carter and Colonel Phillips pulled up beside you in one of Schmidt’s cars.

Colonel Phillips yelled at you both, “get in!” Before you even settled down beside the Colonel and Steve beside Peggy, you took off, hair flying behind you. You turned to the Colonel with a smirk on your face, “nice ride, Phillips!”

The Colonel glanced a look at you as he sped up, “figured I might keep this once we’re done here!” You let out a laugh that soon died off as you recognized the light from the sun and a runway – right where Schmidt currently was.

You looked to the Colonel, a worried look on your face, as he pressed a button beside the steering wheel; right away, the car you were seated in blasted off, hair wildly being thrown behind you as the Colonel grasped onto the wheel. You held onto the door handle, eyes wide as you were reaching the ship, “remind me to never drive with you again, Colonel!”

With shaky legs, you began standing up as Steve did the same mid-ride, reaching the back end of the ship. You and Steve yelled to the Colonel, “keep it steady!”

Peggy shouted over the sounds of the ship and car engines, “wait!” Steve looked back to Peggy as she pulled him into a kiss.

You looked to the Colonel with a shrug; he shook his head at you, “I ain’t kissin’ you!” You gave a laugh as you blew him a kiss, leaning on the hood of the car to avoid getting chopped up by the propellers on the ship. Steve followed right behind you, shield meeting the propellers only once, sparks flying.

You glanced at Steve quickly before you jumped towards the ship’s wheel, grabbing onto the metal support beam as Steve flew right below you, catching onto the lasting part of the wheel. Looking down, you tried steadying your breath as you realized how high up you were; grasping Steve’s hand, you pulled him up alongside you as the wheel you two stood on was slowly pulled into the ship.

With a shaky hand, you reached into your shirt and grabbed Bucky’s dog tags, holding them tight against your scolding skin, even though it was blistering cold in the Alps.

Once inside the lower level of the ship, you and Steve quietly made your way along the metal floors, looking below you as you saw a horrifying sight; bombs with names of major cities written on them, including Chicago and New York.

With a slight gasp, you turned to Steve who looked just as distraught as you were. As his eyes met the New York bomb, footsteps echoed above you, Hydra agents making their ways across the metal landings. With stealth, Steve jumped up, grabbing onto the railing, and kicking an agent over the ledge. Jumping just as high, you landed on the landing and met with the remaining three agents.

With a slight run, you met one agent halfway as he immediately threw a punch your way. You narrowly avoided it, ducking to the side and elbowing him in the face, hearing a nice crunch beneath your elbow. Steve made his way around you, kicking another agent in the chest as he flew backwards. Kicking your opponent over the ledge, you grabbed a knife holstered onto your thigh and threw it at the third and final agent running away, hiding him in the back of the neck; with a grunt, he fell against the side of the landing.

Somehow, Steve’s agent escaped during a quick moment of distraction, climbing on top of the Chicago bomb. Cap ran towards the control panel, pressing the red escape button before the poor guy could even make it inside the capsule, hearing him scream as he fell thousands of feet.

You took a quick breath, “I don’t feel guilty about that…is that bad?”

Steve shrugged, “I – I don’t think so…no, yeah, no, definitely not.”

Less than a second later, two Hydra agents ambushed you and Steve, punching you in the side as you let out a grunt. Avoiding another punch, you grabbed a knife from your thigh and stabbed your opponent in the chest, flipping him over just for good measure. Steve had already disposed of his guy as you kicked yours down towards the opening where Steve’s own guy had just gone down.

You wiped off the blood from your knife on your suit as Steve grimaced, “what, waste a perfectly good knife? Sorry I don’t have a shield, Stevie.”

Steve just shivered, “that’s just…gross, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “so overdramatic. C’mon, let’s go.”

Before you could continue on within the ship, however, Steve and you heard someone get into one of the bombs, closing the lid. Steve immediately jumped onto the window, another agent jumping on top of him. Without thinking, you threw your knife at the agent, hitting him in the shoulder as the bomb, along with Steve on it, dropped into the sky.

You screamed, “Steve! No – no!”

Grabbing at your hair, you held back tears as you watched Steve fly around, narrowly avoiding the tiny ship’s propellers. With careful steps, you saw the scene unfold as the agent you had stabbed was shoved into the propellers, blood flowing from the sky; you gagged, “jesus, Steve – that was disgusting.”

Stepping away from the platform, you trusted Steve and continued your way through the ship, trying to find Schmidt. Grabbing Cap’s shield from where it had been discarded before the bomb was dropped, you made your way to the cockpit where you realized it was quiet – too quiet.

At some point, you felt the ship shake and loud bangs filled the air as you hoped it was Steve – back in one piece. Slowly walking down the stairs, the shield protecting you, you quietly walked upon the metal grates of the ship until reaching the pilot’s seat; leaning to the side, you realized Schmidt was no longer there.

“What the –“ Before you could finish, you heard the sounds of a gun preparing to fire, and in a split second, you used the shield to protect yourself from Schmidt’s laser, the shot hitting the window of the ship.

Harsh winds forced itself into the ship, your hair blowing wildly as Schmidt stood before you, “you don’t give up, do you? Where’s Mr. Rogers, little one?”

Just then, Steve decided to make his grand entrance as you glared at Schmidt, “kids from Brooklyn aren’t exactly known for givin’ up, Johann.” With a flick of your arm, you threw the shield to Steve as Schmidt fired, forcing you to jump to the side. Steve caught the shield, blocking another hit from Schmidt’s laser as it hit the window again.

Cap ran towards Schmidt, blocking more hits as he fought with the red-skulled man, avoiding yet also receiving some hits. Once Cap was kicked to the ground, you jumped behind Schmidt, kicking his hind legs and kneeing his lower spine, hearing him grunt in pain in response. Steve stood up, pushing Schmidt against a wall before being slammed to the ground.

You ran towards Johann, arm going around his neck, choking him as he tried grabbing at anything for leverage. With a quick glance to the table lying in the middle of the room, glowing blue, you threw yourself on top of it, pulling Schmidt with you and onto the floor. Steve had then pulled Schmidt up, hitting him with his shield until Schmidt fought back, hitting Cap with his own weapon before Steve headbutted him.

Steve leaned back before he grabbed onto Schmidt’s uniform, throwing him towards the pilot seat, sparks immediately flying through the air. With a yell, you realized the ship was tipped downwards, heading straight towards, what looked like, an icy landscape. Flying to the ceiling alongside Schmidt and Steve, you flew towards Johann, punching him in the stomach as he did you, trying to gain some type of balance.

As the three of you fought in the air, you gave your best kicks and punches, watching Steve be thrown to the side of the ship. In the short time, Schmidt flew over and pulled up the steering stick of the ship, pressing a few buttons as you all three fell to the floor, the ship back to normal altitude.

Landing on the metal grates harshly, you groaned as Steve stood up, pulling you alongside him as he held his shield in front of you both. Schmidt turned towards you, gun in hand as he stumbled down the stairs, “you could have the power of the gods! Both of you!”

Schmidt shot towards you and Steve as you ducked, feeling the heat of the gunfire pass over your head, “yet you wear a flag on your chest, and think you fight a battle of nations!” He kept firing at you, Steve pulling you along as Schmidt continued, “I have seen the future, Captain, little one! There are no flags!”

Another shot fired over your head as Steve analyzed his next steps, yelling back, “not my future!” Leaping forward, Steve rolled and protected himself from another shot from Schmidt as you kneeled by the side, ready to step in.

With a grunt, Steve threw the shield at Johann, forcing him to hit the glowing table, the item inside slowly coming out of its container. You narrowed your eyes, “what the hell is that?” Its bright light captured your attention as Schmidt stood beside it, “what have you done?”

The bright blue box was now outside its container, off to the side from the force of Johann’s body; Schmidt grabbed it, and after a few seconds, bright lights flew around the ship and the universe seemed to open up above him. Your brain could not comprehend what you were seeing – millions of stars and planets littered the space above as Schmidt stood below, arms beside him as he looked up.

Slowly, Schmidt’s body began to deteriorate, his screams of pain echoing throughout the ship, rainbow flashes coloring your vision as both you and Steve looked away. Then, in a split second, the blue cube fell to the ground and Schmidt was gone.

You looked at Cap, “what…what just happened?”

Steve shook his head, leaning down to grab his shield before nodding towards the pilot’s seat, “we gotta figure this out.”

Sitting beside him as co-pilot, you turned on the radio as Steve tried to figure out how exactly to land the aircraft. He looked down at the map, noticing the ship was on its way to New York. Looking at one another, you pressed on the intercom button beside you, “come in! This is y/n l/n, alongside Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

Right away, someone responded, “Y/N, L/N, what is your –“

Quickly, Peggy interrupted him, “y/n! Is that you? Is Steve with you? Are you both alright?”

You sighed at the sound of Peggy’s voice as Steve smiled, “Peggy! Schmidt’s dead and – and –“

Peggy calmed you down, “what about the plane?”

You looked to Steve for help as he talked for you, “that’s a little bit tougher to explain.” You raised an eyebrow at Steve as you grasped onto Bucky’s dog tags around your neck, trying to help the conversation. Peggy continued, “give me your coordinates, I’ll find you a safe landing site.”

With solemn eyes, you looked at Steve who was trying his best to possibly fix something, anything, “there’s not gonna be a safe landing…but I can try and force it down.”

Peggy stumbled, “I – I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.”

Steve shouted back, “there’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York.”

The sky ahead of you looked beautiful. It was orange, mixed with bits of yellow and blue. Your nose had grown quite cold and your hair whipped your face as you still grasped onto the dog tags.

Steve breathed heavily, “I gotta put her in the water.”

You knew this was coming. You just knew it.

Peggy responded, “please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out.”

You called out to Peggy, “Peg…we’re in the middle of nowhere. If we wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die.” Steve glanced at you with worry in his eyes; you nodded to him as he continued, “Peggy… this is our choice. We’re okay.”

Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out a compass with a picture of Peg in the middle of it, placing it on one of the meters. With a grunt, Steve pushed the level down, the airship leaning towards the ocean in no time. You looked at Steve, your heart racing as tears raced your cheeks; not in fear, but in sadness.

Sadness that you never got to have your dance with Bucky at your wedding, nor see his smile once again or feel his lips against your own. You wouldn’t get to hear his gravelly voice in the morning right after a good night’s sleep, or get to hold his hand as he pulled you along at fairs. You wouldn’t be able to smell him or feel his hair against your fingertips as he cuddled into your chest. You wouldn’t be able to be with him before you died.

The altitude was dropping fast and Steve continued to look at the picture of Peggy, the sun glaring in his eyes, “Peggy?”

With a whisper, Peggy responded, “I’m here.”

Steve stared at the glaciers that were coming into view, “I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

Your lips quivered as the glaciers came closer and closer to you. Peggy let her tears fall as she whispered back, “all right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. And I expect you there, too, y/n. You hear me?”

You and Steve let out a breath as Steve responded, “you got it.” Steve reached beside himself and grabbed for your hand, holding it tightly. The tears came faster as did the glaciers and the cold water.

Peggy continued, “8 o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. You two understand?”

You swallowed, tears clouding your vision, “yes ma’am.”

Steve stared at the oncoming landscape, “you know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

Peggy whispered as Steve’s hand gripped yours tight, “I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

Steve had his own tears running down his cheeks as you sobbed quietly, hand gripping his tight, “we’ll have the band play something slow.”

Steve turned back towards you, eyes sad as he saw your cheeks, “I am so sorry, honeybee. I’m so sorry.”

With your remaining hand, you held onto Bucky’s dog tags tightly, alongside Steve’s hand, as he turned back to the radio, “I’d hate to step on your…”

The last thing you saw was your James Barnes standing right in front of you, arms wide as he yelled, “my honeybee! There she is – looking gorgeous as ever, honey.” With a kiss to your lips, it almost felt real as you responded, “hi, Jamie.”

honeybee taglist:

@clownerlyluv @ginger-swag-rapunzel

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writingfeatherduster · 3 years

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Idk if this is a good prompt but im always a sucker for clothes swap fluff so 👉👈 smth with grillby wearing sans’ jacket maybe?

This is so freaking cute. I might have to write like, three alternate versions of this.

Once again, I think I strayed a bit from expectation writing this one. Also, it’s entirely off-season. And I think I got a bit sloppy at the end, so I apologize for that. If you can’t tell, I don’t think very highly of my own writing. In any case, here’s the one-shot that nearly turned into multiple chapters!

Grillby Looks Good In Blue

Word count: 4961 Summary: When it’s revealed that Grillby doesn’t have a Halloween costume, Frisk comes up with a great idea.

Grillby had never been particularly festive. Even after opening his new bar on the surface, the ‘holiday spirit’ people talked about continued to elude him. The older members of his family didn’t celebrate many holidays, and what celebrations they did have were never more than another family gathering. He enjoyed them, of course. Any opportunity to see his brothers and niece was a welcome one! But he’d never decorated his bar or hosted any sort of seasonally themed party. So, when he learned about the human holiday of ‘Halloween’, he didn’t plan to come up with a costume.

(He planned to close early and hand out candy, of course. He had a soft spot for children.)

The night before Halloween, Grillby’s bar was lively with excited monsters and humans alike. The anticipation for the big night was palpable as people chattered among themselves, talking about their costumes, the best places to get candy, and parties that were going to be held. The sun had only just started to set when the bell above the door rang, a familiar family of monsters entering with a single human child.

“Welcome back,” Grillby greeted with a small smile. The whole gang was there- Toriel, Frisk, Alphys, Undyne, Papyrus, Sans… even Asgore was there. Sans and Frisk made a beeline for the bar while the rest of the group discussed seating arrangements. Grillby started pouring a glass of apple juice for Frisk automatically, placing it in front of them as the child struggled up onto a barstool. “It’s good to see you all again. What’s the occasion?”

Sans shrugged and hopped up into his usual seat. “Well, we’re gonna have a little All Hallows Eve Eve party while we put the finishing touches on everyone’s costumes. Thought that since we’re all here, it’d be nice to go out to eat together. It was mostly Frisk’s idea.”

Grillby chuckled. “Well, I think it was an excellent idea. Now, what can I get the two of you started with?”

The night wore on with plenty of food, drinks, and laughter as everyone caught up with each other. Frisk and Sans went back to sit with the others during dinner, but when it was time for dessert, Frisk was right back up at the bar to talk with Grillby. They were excited to tell him about their costume. “Guess what I’m going as for Halloween!” they demanded, bouncing on their stool.

Grillby set a piece of cake in front of Frisk as he carefully monitored the stool’s stability. “I don’t know, what?”

“Nooooo,” Frisk whined, “That’s not how it works! You have to guess!”

“Alright, alright.” He pretended to think for a moment, tapping his chin. “You’re going to be… adorable,” he teased, ruffling their hair.

Frisk laughed, pushing his hand away. “No, I’m not! I’m going to be scary!”

Grillby shook his head. “Forgive me for being unable to imagine that. What scary thing are you going as, then?”

Frisk was unable to contain their excitement any longer, jumping up on the stool. “I’m going to be a zombie!” they yelled. As they did, the stool teetered beneath them.

Ding! You’re blue now!

Grillby had reached out and grabbed Frisk by the shoulders at the same time Sans turned them blue and levitated them, the unbalanced stool the child was sitting on hitting the floor. Sans walked up to the bar and righted the stool, chuckling as he found a seat of his own. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you partying too hard now.”

Frisk gave both of them a sheepish grin as they were set back on their stool, looking up at Grillby. “Sorry. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m going to be a zombie for Halloween. It was Sans’s idea!” They shoveled a big bite of chocolate cake in their mouth as they looked at the skeleton.

“Yeah,” Sans said with a shrug. “I mean, a supernatural being that keeps coming back to life no matter how many times you’ve killed it? It seems appropriate.”

Grillby wasn’t sure what Sans meant by that, but at that point, he was used to it enough to not bother asking. He turned to Frisk and poured them a glass of milk to go with their dessert. “Well, make sure Sans sends me a picture. I’m sure it will look great.”

Frisk nodded eagerly, taking the glass of milk and drinking half of it in one go. Grillby offered them a napkin before they could wipe their mouth on their sleeve. Frisk took it, scrubbing at their face and smiling up at him. “So,” they asked, “What’s your Halloween costume gonna be?”

“Oh, I’m not really doing anything for Halloween,” Grillby responded as he moved to wipe some crumbs from his bar. “I will be handing out candy, though, if you’d like to stop by.”

“You don’t have a costume?!” Apparently, in Frisk’s mind, this was a horrible tragedy. “But everyone put a costume together! Even Sans made one!”

Papyrus, overhearing this, looked up from where he’d been enjoying a plate of pasta with chocolate sauce. “Wait, Sans, you actually made a costume?! I thought you said you were just going to buy one!”

Sans shrugged. “Yeah, well, everyone else was making their own. Besides, the costume I came up with is a piece of art. You can’t get that at a store.”

Frisk didn’t look impressed. “Sans, your costume is literally a shirt with the word ‘life’ written on it and a bowl of lemon drops.”

“Well, I didn’t really have much to work with. You know what they say- when life gives you lemons…”

Papyrus groaned. “SANS THAT DOESN’T COUNT AS A COSTUME AT ALL!”

Grillby chuckled from behind the bar, fond. “I think it sounds very you, Sans.”

Sans grinned up at him. “Heh, at least someone appreciates my talents. Anyway, Grillbz, the kid is right. It’s our first Halloween on the surface. You gotta do something more than just hand out candy.”

Apparently, everyone was listening at that point, because that was when Alphys stood up. “O-Oh! If, um, if you still n-need a costume, I, uh… w-well I have some material l-leftover from making mine and Undyne’s! I’m sure we can- um- c-come up with some ideas, haha…”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Toriel chimed in. “You should join us for our costume-making party tonight, Grillby. Then you can accompany Frisk with us for trick-or-treating.”

Grillby adjusted his glasses, a bit flustered by all the sudden attention. “I-i wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Undyne laughed, getting up. “Too late, fire dude! If Frisk says you need a costume, then that’s that. Now let’s close this joint and get going already!”

As Undyne and Papyrus began rounding people up and making them go home so Grillby could close the bar, the fire monster chuckled to himself. Maybe, just this once, he could have a little more fun with a holiday.

It felt odd, being in Toriel’s house. Grillby considered the others his friends, but he’d never actually hung out with any of them outside the bar before. Everyone was gathered in the living room, where multiple old bedsheets had been spread on the floor and furniture. The group spread out around the living room as they helped each put finishing touches on their designs with hot glue and paint. “The bedsheets are a clever idea,” Grillby commented lightly as he took a cup of tea from Toriel (he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he usually didn’t drink tea. It was basically just hot flavored water).

The motherly monster smiled, sitting in an armchair and watching the scene in front of her with a fond look in her eye. “Dr. Alphys suggested it. She’s very good at arts and crafts!”

“Speaking of arts and crafts,” Sans interjected from his spot on the couch, “It’s time to figure out what Grillby’s costume is going to be.”

Alphys had a lot of ideas. “Oh! Y-you could go as a gender-bent v-version of Sailor Mars! Or maybe, um, if you c-can burn blue for- for the evening you could go a-a-as Rin Okumura from Blue Exorcist! Oh, I b-bet you could m-make a great Kyoya! Uh, from O-ouran Highschool Host Club?”

...Grillby didn’t understand what she said, but was flattered anyway. Kind of.

Sans decided to step in and rescue Grillby before Alphys put him in cat ears. “While those are all good ideas,” he said thoughtfully, “Maybe we should think of something that we can, y’know, throw together overnight? Plus I’m pretty sure all those characters wear like fancy clothes and stuff. That’s what Grillby wears already. Hardly counts as a costume.”

Papyrus stood up specifically so he could put his hands on his hips. “Well the whole point of a costume is to dress up for the evening! What is Grillby supposed to do? Dress down?”

That gave Frisk an idea. They got up, walking over to Grillby and pulling on his arms to make him stand up. “Come here for a second!” Then, they went and grabbed Sans, pulling him to stand next to Grillby. Frisk took a couple of steps back, rubbing their chin in thought as they inspected the two side-by-side. Apparently, they liked what they saw, because they smiled. “Hey Sans, do you mind if I change your costume a bit?”

“Uhhh, what are we talking about when we say ‘a bit’?” Sans asked, unsure of where Frisk was going with this.

Alphys seemed to catch on, because anyone who has read lots and lots of fanfiction can guess where this is going. “Ohhhh, that’s g-genius, Frisk! But, u-um, Grillby’s a lot taller than Sans.”

Frisk’s smile only widened, the plan coming together in their mind. “Sans’s jacket is big enough! And I’m sure we can find him a white T-shirt that’s big enough!”

The skeleton waved a hand at them, interrupting. “Sans’s jacket is big enough for what?”

Frisk and Alphys shared a mischievous look. Sans looked up at Grillby (who was still confused and clueless) and came to a terrible realization.

He was going to have to tie his shoes for once.

“Do I really have to keep the shirt tucked in?”

“Yes! Grillby always has his shirt tucked in!”

“A-and don’t- don’t slouch. You have to, um, g-get into character!”

“When did this go from a Halloween costume to full-on cosplay?”

Sans tugged at his suspenders as he inspected the completed outfit. Somehow, Frisk and Alphys had managed to find a white button-up, dress pants, and dress shoes to fit Sans. Grillby’s suspenders could be adjusted down to fit Sans, and bowties tended to be one-size-fits-all, so Sans got to wear the real deal in those departments. Finally, Toriel had taken the lenses out of an old pair of reading glasses she didn’t use and set the frames on Sans’s skull (Frisk taped the sides since Sans didn’t have ears).

The skeleton couldn’t help chuckling. “Man, no wonder Grillby is pretty fit. Getting dressed in this stuff is a whole workout.” It didn’t look bad, though. He glanced upstairs, where Papyrus and Toriel had whisked Grillby away for his ‘transformation’. Sans had already managed to get fully dressed, and his usual outfit was way simpler than Grillby’s. What was taking so long?

The others seemingly had the same thought. Undyne crossed her arms, walking to the base of the stairs. “HEY PAPYRUS! WHAT’S THE HOLD UP?!” she yelled through the house.

Papyrus cracked the door to Toriel’s room open for a moment. “JUST BE PATIENT, UNDYNE!”

Toriel pushed the door the rest of the way open, sighing. “Please, both of you, no shouting in the house. We… had a minor issue with finding a T-shirt, is all. Grillby is changing in my bathroom, he’ll be down in a moment.”

Just then, Papyrus spotted Sans, eyesockets widening. “OH MY GOD! Sans, you actually have style for once!”

“Heh, thanks, I guess…” Sans felt nervous, for some reason. What if Grillby thought he looked dumb? What if Grillby got really uncomfortable with this idea? What if he got mad? Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to force him to-

The door to Toriel’s room opened again, a warm light filling the hall. If Sans could have blushed, he would have.

Sans’s shorts were wide enough around the waist to fit Grillby, although they didn’t quite go down to his knees. The old white shirt Toriel had found him was a bit more form-fitting than the ones Sans usually wore, clinging near his waist and the center of his chest. Amusingly, Sans’s slippers were a bit too big on the fire monster, if the way he had to shuffle in them to get them to stay on was any indication. What got Sans, though, was the jacket.

Sans’s hoodie fit Grillby perfectly.

Grillby had shot Papyrus a questioning look when he was handed Sans’s jacket, still unsure about the whole thing. “Will this even fit me?” he asked skeptically. “I’m quite a bit taller than Sans.”

“Well, it’s very big on Sans,” Toriel pointed out. “Just try it on. I’m sure we can go find a cheap blue hoodie in the morning to complete the look if that doesn’t fit.”

Papyrus nodded. “Or if it smells too much like ketchup for you to bear!”

The bartender still wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t hurt to just try it on, right? Blushing a bit under the attention the other two were giving him, he shrugged on the blue jacket. Papyrus was right, it did smell a little like ketchup. But…

As the weight of the fabric settled around his shoulders, something in Grillby relaxed. The fabric that lined the inside of Sans’s jacket was surprisingly soft, and the sleeves were just long enough that if Grillby wanted to, he could pull them over his hands. The fire monster’s face grew hotter, a bright blush spreading across his cheeks. He was wearing Sans’s clothes. He was wearing Sans’s jacket. He wrapped his arms around himself without thinking, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, he found that Toriel and Papyrus were both staring at him. He shifted a bit, fiddling with the hoodie strings. “...wh-what? Is something wrong?”

After a long moment, Toriel smiled, raising a hand to her mouth in an attempt to hold back laughter. Papyrus tilted his head, entirely bemused. “Grillby, why did you turn blue? Is it that overwhelming? I told Sans he needed to wash that old thing more often!”

Toriel lost her composure, laughing softly. “That’s not what it means when a fire monster turns blue, Papyrus.”

“W-wait, I’m what-?!” Grillby ran back into Toriel’s bathroom. Sure enough, the blush on his cheeks had turned a vibrant blue, along with some of the flames that made up his hair. “Oh. Oh no.”

“‘Oh no’ what?! I don’t understand! Ms. Toriel, why are you laughing?!” Papyrus frowned, unhappy at being left out of the loop.

Toriel was all too happy to clarify. “Fire monsters blush differently than other monsters. The flames that make up their faces change temperature depending on the emotion. When they’re embarrassed, they may turn red. When flustered, a brighter orange. The most dazzling display, though, is when a fire monster is-”

“You can’t tell Sans!” Grillby suddenly cried out, nearly shouting it. He went back into the bedroom, willing himself to calm down. “Fuck, I can’t let him see me like this…!”

Toriel decided to let the language slide, focusing on calming Grillby down. “It’s alright,” she said soothingly, “We won’t tell him. You should tell him yourself.”

Grillby shook his head. “No, no no no no no. Sans can’t know about this. It’s entirely inappropriate, and it would ruin everything we already have-”

Toriel held up a hand to stop him. She tilted her head a bit, concerned. “Now why would it be inappropriate? You’re adults. If you both consent to a relationship, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Grillby groaned. “It’s- I’m a fire elemental and he’s a skeleton. We’re not going to be compatible.”

Toriel frowned at that. “Now that’s an outdated mindset and you know it,” she huffed. “You like him, don’t you? I’m sure even if he didn’t like you that way, you could still be friends after telling him.”

“Like him in what way?!?!” The Great Papyrus interrupted, starting to get irritated that the author seemed to keep forgetting he was there.

Toriel looked at Papyrus, then sighed, smiling a bit as she looked back at Grillby. Grillby groaned again, hanging his head in defeat. “Fire monsters turn blue,” he mumbled, “When they’re in love.”

Papyrus took a moment to process that. Grillby was in love… he’d turned blue when he put Sans’s jacket on… Oh! The pieces clicked in his skull. “HOLY FU-”

“LANGUAGE!”

Grillby took a deep breath as he walked down the stairs, trying to stay calm and, more importantly, stay cold. Sans would probably say I just need to ‘chill out’. Or be ‘cool’, Grillby thought to himself, his awkward smile becoming a bit more genuine in amusement. He stepped into the living room, holding his arms out in a sort of ‘Ta-da!’ motion. Frisk started clapping while Alphys took pictures, both of them far more excited about the outfit change than they should have been.

“Well if it isn’t the ‘hottest’ new fashion trend, Grillby casual.”

Sans caught Grillby’s attention, the fire monster turning to look at him. “Ha, funny, Sans,” is what he said on the outside. On the inside, he was screaming. Stay chill stay chill stay chill stay chill god damn it now that terrible joke is stuck in my head holy shit just stay chill!

“Y-you look nice,” Grillby managed to stammer out. “I never thought I’d see you wear a tie that wasn’t printed on the shirt.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sans replied with a wink. “So I guess it’s decided then? We’re going as each other for Halloween?”

Grillby nodded, barely trusting himself to speak. “I suppose so…”

Frisk jumped up on the couch. “WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE TO GO TRICK OR TREATING WITH US!!”

The next several minutes were filled with Toriel lecturing Frisk about jumping on furniture and yelling in the house.

The next day, the whole group met at Grillby’s to get ready, taking advantage of the fact that the restaurant had a total of four bathroom stalls. Grillby volunteered to put his costume on last, soul thrumming with anxiety. He was sure that the evening was going to be the hardest evening of his life (oh, the things he put himself through for Frisk’s sake).

Grillby was far from unaware of his feelings for Sans. He’d had a bit of a crush for a long time, and in the time since they’d been released from the Underground, that affection had only grown. There was just something about the skeleton that made him want to sit and talk with him forever. It would never work out, though. Relationships were complicated, and Grillby didn’t want to mess up what he already had. If he made a move and it didn’t work out, it would be hard to go back to just being friends. Needless to say, Sans’s new ability to turn Grillby’s flames blue without even being in the room was a huge problem.

“Hey fire dude, your turn!” Undyne pulled Grillby from his thoughts, thrusting the bartender’s costume into his arms. “Hurry up and get changed! It’s almost time to get going!”

Grillby nodded, a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden. “R-right. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He took his time getting dressed, carefully monitoring his temperature. For the most part, he was fine. He could forget that he was dressed as his favorite skeleton, even be amused by it. There was no problem at all… until he got to the jacket.

Slipping on Sans’s hoodie, Grillby felt his temperature immediately rise. He was never cold, but he could still appreciate that the jacket was comfortably warm. Between the smell and the weight, if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine Sans had his arms around him.

Oh god, there was no way he was going to make it through this night.

Cautiously stepping out of the bathroom stall, Grillby looked in the mirror and confirmed what he already suspected. That bright blue tint had returned to his face. He took a deep breath, willing it away, but some of the flames that formed his hair and cheeks wouldn’t cool off. The traitorous streaks of heat flickered and Grillby felt like he was being mocked.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened and Grillby panicked, pulling up the hood of the and ducking his head to hide his face. Glancing to the side, he wanted to scream. Of course, it was Sans.

Sans looked worried, dress shoes clicking on the tile floor as he walked over. “You okay, Grillbz? You’ve been in here for a while. I was starting to get worried.”

“I-i’m fine,” Grillby stammered, turning to look at the wall, the counter, anywhere but at Sans. “I’m just nervous. It’s the first time I’ve participated in something like this.”

Sans chuckled, a gentle sound that soothed some of Grillby’s nerves. “C’mon, you can’t mess up Halloween. Just ‘chill’ out and enjoy yourself.”

Sans was right. There wasn’t any reason to be this worked up. So long as he focused on the festivities, Grillby didn’t run any risk of being flustered again. “Alright. I’ll be out in a moment.” He straightened up, looking in the mirror again and sighing in relief. For now, the blush was gone.

Later that evening, the Halloween festivities were in full swing. Monster and human children alike were wandering up and down the streets with their parents, laughing and playing as their buckets and bags slowly filled with sweets. Frisk insisted on dragging as many people as they could up to each door with them, insisting that, “Larger groups of people get more candy!”

Of course, being a pretty big group of monsters, they couldn’t all fit on a doorstep at once. Instead, they all took turns. Two people would go with Frisk at a time, and the rest of them would just wave from the street.

Sans put his hands in his pockets as he watched Grillby and Asgore walk Frisk to the door of the next house, chuckling a bit as the former king stopped to admire the flowerbeds. His gaze drifted to Grillby. He’d been worried that the bartender would feel a little out of place, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, holding Frisk’s hand as the child cheered, “Trick or treat!”

The couple at the door stopped to ask about their costumes like any other house, putting a few pieces of candy in Frisk’s bag. Sans couldn’t hear what was said, but when Grillby explained his costume, whatever the couple said made him laugh. Sans smiled to himself, fond.

Undyne elbowed Sans, arching an eyebrow at him. “Dude, you’re staring again.”

Sans rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well, he’s being really cute. Besides, anyone could appreciate a guy that hot.”

Undyne groaned. “Okay, but being serious, why don’t you just talk to him already? The guy obviously has a thing for you. Nobody would let you rack up a tab like yours if they didn’t want to cook for you all the time.”

“I know,” Sans admitted, “But he can be kinda shy. I don’t wanna scare him off by making the first move.”

She just rolled her eyes. “If he’s shy, he’s never gonna confess to you. Just go for it, man!”

Sans looked back at Grillby. In the time they’d been talking, the fire monster had picked Frisk up and put them on his shoulders, smiling as Frisk declared which house they should go to next. He was so good with the kid. He let Frisk hang out at the bar after school all the time, and he’d even helped them with their homework once or twice. The bartender was one of the sweetest guys Sans had ever met. How could the skeleton not like him? And Sans had to admit, he was getting a little impatient. “You know what? Fine,” he said, looking back at Undyne. “I’m gonna tell him.”

Undyne looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

“Oh my god.” Undyne whipped out her phone, pulling up her camera. “Fucking finally. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Alphys! Alphys, it’s finally happening, come help me film this!”

Sans laughed, pulling his hands out of his pockets to fidget with his suspenders. “Thanks for the enthusiasm, but this is something I kinda want to do alone? Grillby’s a private guy. You’ll make him nervous.”

Undyne groaned. “Fine, but you better tell me how it goes!”

Sans gave her a thumbs-up. “Sure thing, captain.”

“I mean it!” she emphasized, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I want every detail.”

Sans chuckled. “I’ll make sure to ‘burn’ the moment in my memory. Now get out of here, they’re coming back.”

Grillby and Asgore rejoined the group, Grillby handing Frisk off to Toriel. “I believe it’s your turn, You Majesty.”

Toriel smiled a bit. “Now what have I told you about that? It’s just Toriel now.” She turned to the others. “Sans? Would you like to come as well?”

“I’ll c-come!” Alphys quickly interjected. “We sh-should all go! Except Sans and Grillby! G-Grillby just went, and, u-um… Sans, well…”

“I’m too lazy to go all the way up to the door,” Sans finished for her. “I’ll hang back here with Grillby. You all go on ahead.”

Toriel tilted her head, trying to figure out what Sans was planning before understanding hit her. She smiled a bit and nodded. “Alright, you two. Don’t fall too far behind.”

“This won’t take very long,” Sans assured her, waving them off. Frisk lead the way, and pretty soon it was just Sans and Grillby, walking side by side in the cool autumn evening.

Grillby adjusted his glasses, glancing curiously at Sans. “...alright. What is this all about? I can tell you’re plotting something.”

Sans chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve always been able to read me pretty well.” And somehow the bartender was still totally oblivious. “I just wanted to talk with you for a minute. Just you and me.” He stopped walking, looking Grillby up and down. “...y’know, you don’t look half bad in my jacket.”

Oh god. The fear of blushing and tipping Sans off returned at full force, Grillby swallowing hard. “Th-thank you? Um, I think you look nice, too. Dressed up, I mean.”

“Eh, you pull it off better.” Sans shrugged. “You know, you’ve been kinda quiet this evening. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Grillby answered too quickly. He’d honestly been avoiding talking to Sans too much. Sans was far too good at flustering him and making him laugh. “Why do you ask?”

Sans huffed, fond as he tilted his head. “Well, I’ve been thinking. Hanging out with everybody is great and all, but I’d kinda like to spend more time with just you, y’know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little nervous. He didn’t want to make Grillby uncomfortable by being too direct, but he couldn’t be too subtle. Otherwise, it would go over the fire monster’s head. He took a deep breath and braced himself. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go get breakfast or something sometime?”

Grillby nearly choked. What was Sans trying to say? Surely he wasn’t asking what Grillby wanted him to thought he might be asking. He felt his temperature rise without his permission and reflectively pulled up the hood of the jacket, covering his face with his sleeves. If anything, remembering that he was hiding in Sans’s jacket just made it worse. He tried to say something, but to his dismay, all he could get out was a flustered squeak.

That was about the reaction Sans was expecting. “Grillby? You okay?” Sans asked gently. He stepped closer, trying to move into the bartender’s field of vision.

“F-f-fine…!” Grillby managed. He was dead. He was going to die. This was a disaster.

“Heh, sure,” Sans mumbled, giving him a small smile. “Alright, if you’re gonna be shy about it, let’s try this a different way.” The skeleton reached up and gently took Grillby’s hands in his own, pulling them away. Grillby’s face was burning with beautiful shades of red, orange, and blue, all mixing together. Sans chuckled a bit, putting his hands on the bartender’s shoulders and making him lean over. “Come here, you dork.” He stood up on his toes, pulling the fire monster’s hood down as he did.

The light show when Sans kissed him was spectacular.

Papyrus, who had been watching the whole time, jumped out of the bushes. “OH MY GOD, SANS!” He was shortly followed by Undyne, Alphys, and Frisk, who were all rewatching the scene from Frisk’s phone.

“That was s-so cute!” Alphys gushed. “You’re so adorable t-together! I think it’s my new OTP.”

Grillby groaned, covering his face with one hand as Sans laughed. “I hate all of you.” He stopped as a hand slipped into his own, looking down at Sans.

Sans smiled up at him, still chuckling a bit. His gaze softened a bit as he ran his thumb over Grillby’s knuckles. “So,” he said quietly, “What do you say, firefly? Coffee this Saturday.”

Grillby smiled, finally letting himself blush without panicking. He laced their fingers together and gave the skeleton a gentle nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! If you did, consider leaving me a comment to tell me your favorite part. If you want to send me a prompt, my asks are open!

#dustywrites #sans #grillby #undertale #undertale fic #oneshot #ask answered #sans undertale #grillby undertale #sans x grillby #sansby #fluff fic #this got so long #and i wrote most of it past midnight

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himbo-half-orc · 3 years

Text

Alp

Eskel x Alp (E) - Eskel goes out on a hunt and finds more than he was bargaining for.

Prompt - 8. Vampire, 1. Somnophilia, 21. Oral, 25. Non-con

(CW - Somnophilia, non-con, oral)

Eskel was relaxing in a dingy tavern, nursing a tankard of shit ale that tasted like piss, when he overheard talk of a monster terrorising the neighbouring village. From what they said, it sounded like there were sightings of a black dog which mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, which was terrorising the local farms. There were also rumours of young boys being lured in by a beautiful woman and waking in the morning feeling drained of energy.

Hmm, this sounded to Eskel like it might be either a succubus or a type of vampire called an Alp. He’d had a very… interesting run in with a succubus previously, and couldn’t bet on having the same sort of luck this time around. He needed to go back to his room at the inn and prepare. He’d visit this other village tomorrow and ask around for further information.

The next day, he carefully packed his bags and saddled Scorpion. He wanted to get to the village in fairly good time, so that he could find out as much as he could before night fell. He had a feeling that this was when the creature would be most active, unless he could stop it before then.

When he arrived he soon found the Alderman, who told him about as much as he already knew. He’d have to ask the butcher’s son and also one of the farmhands for more details. The butcher’s son described a charming and attractive young woman with long auburn hair and slightly pointed ears. He said it was like she’d put him under a spell and he couldn’t remember anything that happened after meeting her, except for waking up feeling weak. The farmhand had a similar tale, although he said she moved with speed and was almost like a phantom. He said his own mother hadn’t believed his story, and thought that he’d just been out with some whore and was making up excuses. He asked some of the other villages whether they had seen anything, and they had nothing much to add.

He spoke to one of the farmers, who mentioned that a black shadow he thought was a dog was terrorising his sheep a few nights past. He’d shouted at it and chased it off into the woods, and showed Eskel the direction it had run.

Well, this certainly sounded like an alp to Eskel. He’d encountered them before, and knew they liked to take their victims by surprise, sending them to sleep and draining their life blood. It seemed strange that this particular one hadn’t actually killed any of her victims yet, although Eskel believed it was only a matter of time until she did. Especially as the full moon was only a few days away. He’d have to be careful. He’d drink a potion of black blood before facing it, so that if she did try to bite him, at least that had a chance of poisoning her instead of allowing her to drain him. He’d need his strength.

In the late afternoon, he took a dose of the bitter-tasting potion and applied oils to his silver sword, before heading out into the surrounding woods where the farmer had directed him. He focussed his senses on finding the creature, but didn’t have to search for long. He came upon a clearing and found a large black dog, which wagged its tail at him as if it had been eagerly awaiting his arrival. He was a bit confused by this, and took a step forward. The dog abruptly disappeared, only to be replaced by the most beautiful woman wearing a long black dress, laced up the middle, between her full breasts.

“Stop right there, Witcher. I mean you no harm.”

What was this? She obviously knew what he was, and he didn’t normally chat with creatures before they fought. Interesting.

“What do you want?”

“Are you the one they call Eskel?”

He must have looked shocked. He definitely felt shocked. How did she know his name? He found himself unable to say anything in response, so just nodded.

“Oh, darling!” Her voice was sultry and Eskel could clearly see how she could put a man under her spell. She slunk closer towards him, hips swaying gently. “Don’t you know? You’re famous.”

“Er.. What? Why?” Eskel tried to think clearly. What sort of trickery was she trying on him?

“Well, my sister Victoire is best friends with a succubus. The stories she has told are that of legend. I just had to see for myself.” By this time, she was very close to him, and trailed a nail down the unscarred side of his face. “She didn’t say how handsome you were though.”

“Wait, you know Rhelnore?” He didn’t believe it!

“Of course. And when I heard you were traipsing around these parts, I wanted to see if the hype was true. There are not many of us who are willing to sleep with a witcher, but I always did like a challenge.”

“You want to do... what?” His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, but Eskel tried to at least act calm. He thought she’d just implied that she wanted to sleep with him, but surely she couldn’t mean that, could she?

“I mean, there are probably not that many witchers who'd sleep with an alp either, so any way you look at it, we’ll get something out of it. You look like a nice, strong man, and from what I've heard, the mutagens increased your stamina if not your vitality. Trust me, you’ll enjoy this just as much as I will.” Her eyes had turned darker and she licked her lips.

“You mean to say you planned this?”

“Of course! Why do you think I didn’t actually drain those horrible little boys from the village? I needed to lure you here, but I didn't want you to just kill me. You won’t kill me, right? I promise not to harm you” she pouted up at him. Hmm, this could work.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Naida. So what do you say, big boy?”

“What are you actually proposing? Sex is fine, but no biting. I promise I won’t kill you as long as you promise likewise, and leave the village.

“Hmm, that could work, but I think you’ll be getting more out of this than me. I’ll leave the village and you can claim your coin from them, but you’ll need to make it worth my while. How about I put you to sleep and have my way with you? Or let me bite you, just a little bit?”

“How would that be enjoyable for me? You can’t bite me, I took a potion that would turn your blood to poison if you tried, so I wouldn’t recommend that. I don’t mind sleeping, but could you at least let me be awake for the first time?”

“Rhelnore said you were one horny bastard. Hmm, ok. I think that could work.”

She dropped to her knees, and started unlacing his codpiece with her deft fingers. He felt all the blood rush to his lower body and he was growing harder by the second. When she was done, she took hold of his cock and gave it a slow stroke, before leaning forward and sucking the head into her warm mouth. He looked down to see her gazing up at him through her long eyelashes, lips stretched around his large member. She proceeded to bob her head up and down his length, trying to take as much of him as possible before choking, licking and sucking all the while.

To Eskel, it felt divine. He’d not received head like this since… well, better not to think about that with the lovely Naida on her knees before him. He closed his eyes and gave in to the feeling of pure bliss, his hands moving to take hold of her hair and he started to gently thrust into her mouth. He couldn’t help but moan when she released him with an audible ‘pop’ and her tongue delved into the tip of his cock, where she lapped up the precum that had collected there.

She played with his balls, and then swallowed him down once more. She was shielding her teeth, but he could sense the fangs millimeters from his cock. Eskel could feel himself getting close, and didn’t want to waste his one opportunity by cumming down Naida’s throat. She would no doubt insist on putting him to sleep straight away, and he wanted to experience more before then.

He tugged on her hair and asked her to stand up, helping her to her feet. She looked a bit puzzled, until he declared that it was her turn. He unlaced the bodice of her dress and exposed her heaving breasts. He reached out to caress one, and then bent his head to lick the other before sucking the hard nipple and swirling his tongue around. He trailed his hands down her body, removing the rest of her dress. She stepped out of it, and he knelt down in front of her, licked his hand and rubbed slow circles towards her dripping cunt. He could smell her strong arousal, and lowered his head to take a taste, lapping at her entrance. He couldn’t stop his tongue from plunging into her, earning a drawn out moan from the woman in front of him.

He licked his fingers again, and then looked up at her before inserting a finger into her, pumping in and out. He soon added another, and started the process of stretching her out, preparing her. Eskel knew he was fairly big compared to normal humans thanks to the mutations. He licked and sucked her clit, and could feel her legs start to tremble.

When she was ready, Eskel guided Naida to lie down. He quickly stripped off his clothing and settled between her legs for one last taste. He then guided his cock into her, slowly at first, so that she could get used to his size. Naida had other ideas, and thrust her hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper, impaling herself. She wrapped her legs around his waist and begged him for more. Harder, deeper, faster. He could feel his balls slapping against her as she met each thrust with her own, moaning wantonly. He watched as his cock moved in and out of her warm body and felt her clenching tightly around him.

Naida grabbed Eskel’s shoulders, and using her surprising strength, flipped them both over, so that Eskel was lying on his back whilst she was bouncing enthusiastically on his cock, rocking her hips.

Eskel was mesmerized by her breasts, which jiggled with her movements. He cupped them in his hands, teasing and rolling her nipples. He suppressed the urge to bite them; if she couldn’t bite him, it would be unfair of him to do so to her. Instead, he flipped them over again, and asked her to get on her hands and knees, ass in the air.

He took her from behind, leaning his weight on his knees and one arm, leaving the other free to stimulate her clit whilst he was pounding into her. He felt so amazing, every nerve firing endorphins into his brain and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. He increased the pace, and all too soon, he could feel his balls tighten and he shot his load into her. He pulled out, his cum running down her creamy thighs. He rolled over and lay back down next to the smug looking alp.

“Hmm, now it’s my turn. Night night sweet witcher.”

She kissed him, and as her saliva magic weaved its way through his system, brain growing foggy with sleep, he could feel her hand travel back down to his cock, gripping it roughly. What a shame he’d not remember anything more of this night, although just the thought of being used in such a way and what could possibly happen would keep him going many a cold lonely night on the path.

He woke up from a dreamless sleep the next morning, his thighs a sticky mess and no vampire to be seen. He sat up. His throat felt raw, as did his arse, and his cock felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper. He had deep marks on his chest, probably from Naida raking her nails over it. He stank of sex. Even the humans wouldn’t be able to miss that. There was nothing for it. He walked his naked butt to the nearest stream, washed as best he could, got dressed and returned to the village to collect his reward.

He’d been paid handsomely for his… exertions (not that he let it be known what had actually happened) and was soon on his merry way to the next town on the path.

Tagging - @eskelswrecktober

#monster fucktober #monster fucker #eskel #alp #eskel x alp #slyth writes #witcher fanfic #somnophilia #dub con #prompts

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 3 years

Text

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 14 | To Hunt a Monster

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5k

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open! Double also! I took some liberties with the Alp, pls don’t hate me

Visenya swings her blade down, metal clanging against metal. A small bead of sweat runs down her forehead, falling from her brow bone and landing on the ground. She tosses her blade to the other hand, pulling it up just in time to block the incoming attack, their clashing swords forming a ‘T’. She nimbly moves to the side, and away from her opponent, breaking away from his sword. With otherworldly grace, Visenya whirls around in a half-circle, now standing behind him, pushing her blade forward to pierce through his back. He turns around, jumping back before the hit makes contact, pushing it out of the way with his own.

Metal rings in the clearing as they continue their deadly dance. Geralt kicks his leg out, centimeters away from hitting Visenya’s knees. She brings her blade down in a half crescent shape, smacking the side of his leg with the flat part of her blade. He grunts out a laugh, unbothered by the hit, but it allows Visenya to jump back from his assault.

“You’ll have to do better than that, White Wolf,” Visenya teases, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she awaits Geralt’s next move. He snorts and lunges towards her once more. She sidesteps him, using her smaller size to her advantage. She laughs, the sound blending yet also clashing with the sound of two blades meeting in a bind.

“You’re too arrogant,” Geralt says, pressing against her blade with more force.

He smiles, a smile that’s all teeth, nearly feral looking. Visenya's arm begins to shake, her strength quickly dwindling. But before she can attempt to pull back, Geralt suddenly drops his blade, the lack of resistance causing Visenya to stumble forward. At the same time, he sweeps his leg out, her stumble morphing into a fall.

Thud.

Visenya lands on her back, sword falling out of her hand. Without hesitation Geralt kicks it out of her reach, pointing his sword at her throat.

“It’ll get you killed.” His tone is grim, face set in a deep scowl. “--again,” he adds as an afterthought. Her confession from weeks ago is still fresh, pushed to the forefront of his mind every time he so much as glances at her.

“Well if you didn’t play cheap,” Visenya says, minor annoyance etching a deep scowl onto her face.

“There is no such thing as playing cheap when it comes to fighting. You either win or you don’t,” Geralt says, scolding her like a father would an unruly and stubborn child. But if he’s as old as Visenya thinks, she might as well be.

“Whatever,” Visenya mutters, not moving from her position on the ground, instead she moves her gaze upwards. Threads of dawn emboss the sky, rays of pink and orange tinting it, their vivid colors offset by opalescent clouds. It’s quiet, nearly too quiet, if not for her rapid inhale and exhale of breath.

“You’re good, but you’re too wild,” Geralt says. He tosses his blade aside, reaching a hand down to help her up. Her face flushes red from exerting too much energy, with breathes that're too quick, the spar taking more of her energy up than it should’ve. Then again, for years her only constant companion had been Jaskier, and he ended up pricking three of his fingers before even fully lifting a sword. That was the last time she attempted to arm him.

“Don’t patronize me,” Visenya says, blowing away the stray hairs that fell out of her ponytail and onto her face.

“I’m not. I’m giving advice. Besides--” Geralt looks over at her, the corners of his mouth slowly pulling into a grin. His slightly sharper teeth give his grin a wolfish appearance, predatory and mischievous in nature. “--when did you become such a sore loser?” Geralt teases.

“I don’t know, around the time you got slow,” Visenya responds, grabbing onto Geralt’s outstretched hand. But instead of using it to pull herself up, she yanks on it with all of her remaining strength, causing Geralt to tumble to the ground.

His eyes are wide with bewilderment and shock, a small giggle bubbling from Visenya’s mouth, taking special notice of the green grass that mingles with his tangled white hair. Geralt scoffs, but there’s a small smile on his face that betrays his amusement, small droplets of dew on his hair that glisten in the sun, like tiny beams of light.

Visenya sits up, repositioning herself to be more comfortable on the ground. Geralt follows suit, shaking his head like a dog. Brown twigs and emerald leaves fly in the air and disappear into the sea of green that’s now tinged with dark brown.

Geralt opens his mouth and laughs, it’s not overly loud and merry sounding, but it’s more than he normally gives. The sound echoes in the small clearing, dancing away in the wind to bless someone else’s ears with the soft sound. His eyes shine in the light, causing him to almost look ethereal. Visenya smiles, her heartbeat speeding up, ever so slightly, and for the life of her she can’t figure out why.

“I meant it, you're improving,” Geralt says, placing his arms on his knees and staring at the trees that surround them.

“Are you saying I was a bad swordsman before?” Visenya teases, the smile on her face quickly evaporates, however, when Geralt doesn’t return the mirth. She scoffs and smacks his arm. “You are saying I was a bad swordsman!” she exclaims, disbelief causing a small laugh to escape her mouth. Ser Rodrik trained her himself and before him, Jon. Two of the best swordsmen in the North trained her, a bad fighter is the absolute last thing Visenya would label herself as.

“No, just...chaotic,” Geralt says, seemingly unbothered by her assault.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at him.

“No, but it’s the truth. You fight well, but you fight without control or discipline.” Geralt says.

“So I’m unruly?”

“Like a tornado or a wild animal,” Geralt says, a smirk on his face. Visenya rolls her eyes, smacking him once again - just for good measure. With a huff, she tightens her ponytail, pushing away the sweat coated baby hairs that stick to her forehead. She stands from the floor, walking towards the edge of the clearing where her leather bag is haphazardly resting against a tree. Crouching down and opening the main pouch, she pulls out two apples - one red and the other green. She tosses the red one in the air once, then launches it at Geralt as soon as it grazes her palm. He catches it with ease, not even bothering to look in her direction. Visenya smirks, taking a bite out of the remaining apple.

“Would you believe me if I said I was raised by wolves?” Visenya asks. There’s a smirk on her lips, a gleam in her eyes that says she’s in on a joke that no one else knows. And she revels in it.

“Yes,” Geralt simply replies, eyes wandering towards the sky, basking in the calm that seems so fleeting when on the road with a monster hunter.

“Well, I choose to take both of those answers as a compliment. It just means I’m a force to be reckoned with in - and out - of combat. I think my ancestor and namesake would come back from the dead just to murder me if I wasn’t a half-decent fighter,” Visenya says, staring up at the thick canopy above her. She inches closer into the forest, not committing to entering it completely, but getting close enough. The singing of birds in the distance soothing to her ringing ears, allowing her thoughts to pause if only for a moment.

“Hmm,” is Geralt’s only reply.

“She was a warrior queen, as comfortable in ringmail as she was in silks, as they say. She was legendary” Visenya says, wistfully staring into the trees, getting lost in the melancholy that usually follows when she thinks of her family.

She remembers the stories her Septa would tell her, and the old dusty books she’d find in the library. She can nearly taste the old stale dust that coated the books, flying into the air once her fingers made contact. But she also remembers her eyes desperately drinking in each word, fantasizing that she was the one flying on a dragon, so high in the sky no one could touch her.

Not Robert Baratheon, nor Tywin Lannister, not even The Mountain. But those were foolish daydreams of a child, who didn’t fully understand the nuances of things, nor how horrible some of her family truly had been.

“And I was named after her. Sometimes I feel like I’m not worthy of it. It’s not like there are a dozen other idiots with the same name - who are more foolish than the last, not like Aegon or Viserys,” Visenya mutters to herself, hardly even registering that Geralt is still keenly listening to her ramblings.

“I didn’t realize Jane was a family name,” Geralt says, his red apple still in hand, untouched. Visenya breathes out a laugh, the sound being swallowed by a strong gust of wind.

“No of course not, it’s Vise--” Visenya starts, but closes her mouth, turning to face Geralt who watches her with a curious gaze. She coughs, glancing at the trees one last time before returning her gaze to Geralt. “How do you know it wasn’t my ancestors that made the name popular?”

Geralt raises a brow, his expression showing how little he’s buying her pathetic save, but he doesn’t press the issue, thank the gods. Visenya continues biting into her apple, savoring not only each sweet bite but also the silence surrounding them.

“You’re light on your feet,” Geralt says after a moment. Visenya turns to look at him, a question on her face with raised ashen eyebrows. “Use that to your advantage. Most of your enemies will be much larger than you, bulkier. Which means they’re slower. Tire them out and run circles around them. You’ll never be able to beat them with brute force.” Geralt says, still looking towards the sky, eyes focusing on a particular bird.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

o0o0o

“So an alp?” Visenya says, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface of the table she sits at. Her posture is relaxed, languidly sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair. The room they’re renting is tiny, unbearably claustrophobic with the stench of stale air lingering in her nose at all hours. But it’s the only one in the small village, their size and lack of constant travelers not allowing for them to sink too much money in the rooms, opting to spend their coin on ale and food. At this point Visenya would rather stay in a brothel than here, at least they try to sell the idea of luxury and comfort - no matter how off the mark they may be.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunts, tossing his leather bag across the room. Visenya watches as it glides through the air like a cannonball before landing with a loud thump on the bed. She returns her gaze to Geralt, who moves across the room, towards her, a pitcher of ale in hand. He sets it on the table, the force of it causing small droplets of ale to splatter onto the table. The fire in the corner of the room crackles, forcing itself into their conversation like a bothersome sibling.

“Oh don’t tell me, I know this one. Let me see...alps are the ones who take humanoid forms to lure their victims and then they drink their blood until there’s nothing left, right? They also have the whole ‘saliva that puts its victims to sleep and can cause horrible nightmares’,” Visenya says, a slight smirk on her lips, eyes glowing with pride and self-satisfaction.

“You already know you’re right,” Geralt says, a lilt of amusement in his otherwise deadpan tone. Visenya smirks, grabbing a mug and pouring ale into it, careful to not spill any. She sets the jug back down, throwing her cup back and downing nearly all of it. The amber liquid is bitter, not as smooth and sweet as Cintran ale. It burns and not in a pleasant way. Her face scrunches up, lips puckering and eyes firmly shut, forcing the remaining liquid to go down her throat and not out her mouth.

“I know, doesn’t mean I don’t like receiving validation,” Visenya remarks after managing to swallow the swill disguised as ale, glancing towards the sole window in the room. The sun is starting to set, and swiftly, night time will come before either of them have a chance to blink. Visenya pushes back her chair, the wood screeching against the floors.

“Hmm,” Geralt simply replies, pouring a cup of ale for himself, and drinking it similarly as Visenya. However, he manages to keep any unpleasant expressions off his attractive face. Her eyes rest on his lips, gaze focusing on a droplet of ale that hangs precariously on his lips, nearly falling to the ground. A part of her wants to place her lips on his, to test if maybe the ale would be sweeter coming from his lips. But she snaps her eyes away quickly and banishes the thought, not wanting to linger on it for too long.

“So where are we off to,” Visenya asks. She turns away from the table, grabbing her pack and beginning to shuffle around in it. “I can’t remember where they take residence, so I can’t be help there but--” Visenya starts to ramble, but Geralt cuts her short.

“What do you mean?” Geralt asks, standing from his chair as well. Visenya turns around, her cloak in hand.

“I mean, where are we going? We are planning on killing this alp aren’t we?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at Geralt.

“I am going to kill the alp. You’re staying here,” Geralt says. His voice is stern, his mind set, leaving no room for argument. But Visenya has never been good at just sitting down and letting other people make decisions for her.

“Are you serious? You’re trying to keep me out of this?” Visenya says, disbelief lacing every word. She laughs, a mocking one that lacks any warmth or humor.

“You’re not ready for an alp,” Geralt says, maintaining his cool and unattached demeanor. Yet Visenya notices a faint twitch in his eye, annoyance with her constant need to question every choice he makes.

“Not for a nightwraith either, apparently. Yet I helped kill that too,” Visenya says, her temper flaring, fire lacing her words.

“And almost died in the process,” Geralt says, his voice rising just a hair. Visenya scoffs, rolling her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a second before returning her gaze to Geralt.

“Every situation that involves fighting also involves almost dying. That’s how fighting works, there’s always a chance you won’t come out alive,” Visenya says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So you throw yourself into every fight, even the ones you don’t have the capabilities to win?” Geralt asks, sarcasm distorting his question.

“Precisely,” Visenya says, turning away from Geralt and throwing her traveling cloak over her shoulder, clasping it so it’ll stay on properly. She grabs her bag and sword, slinging the bag over her shoulder and attaching her sheath to her hip.

“You can throw yourself into suicide battles with someone else, you aren’t coming,” Geralt says, the volume of his voice continuing to rise.

“Yes, I am. What’s the point of me being around if I’m not being useful?” Visenya exclaims, stepping towards Geralt. She feels like a child again, being scolded for wanting to learn how to fight rather than perfecting her needlepoint or sewing skills.

“You can come on the next hunt,” Geralt says.

“That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that!” Visenya yells, waving her arm in Geralt’s direction, emphasizing her anger and frustration.

“You weren’t ready any of those times!” Geralt counters. Visenya slams her fist against the wooden table, the impact causing the ale to nearly tip over. Pain blossoms on the spot that made contact with the table, but Visenya can’t be bothered by it at the moment.

“Damn it Geralt! Apparently, I’ll never be ready according to you,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. The candles in the room wildly flicker, nearly going out as the temperature in the room drops, subtly at first, until it’s nearly as cold in the room as the outside. Heat rises in Visenya, growing stronger with each passing moment. The smell of burning fills the room, light smoke wafting from the table into the air.

Like suddenly falling into ice, Visenya removes her hands from the table. There’s a clear burn mark in the vague shape of her fist, the wood lightly charred. She sighs, loudly, closing her eyes and relaxing her clenched fists. The warmth in the room returns, the candles flickering with life once more. Her heart pounds, mind completely blank.

Silence.

“I need air,” she mutters after a moment, not bothering to glance at Geralt. And before he can react, she flies out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

o0o0o

Night cloaks Visenya, hiding her from any prying eyes and wandering gazes that hold no good intentions. She pulls the cloak closer to her body, hood up and head down, eager to be free from this stifling small village. The air is cool, but it’s refreshing, easily tempering the fire in her.

“Get it together, Visenya!” she whispers, smacking a hand against her forehead, hoping the sting from the pain might smack some reason into her.

A child. That’s what she’s acting like. Screaming and throwing a tantrum when she doesn’t get what she wants. It’s irrational. And pathetic. Whining and crying won’t get Geralt to agree to let her come, but that doesn’t temper the frustration she feels when he won’t. She’s not a child, she’s a woman, who can make her own decisions. Why should Visenya need a keeper to tell her what battles to and not to get involved in?

She continues marching forward, quickly leaving the village and all her anger behind. The grass is longer, instead of brushing against her ankles, it reaches the middle of her calves in certain spots. The trees are thick, their lush canopy of leaves acting like a guardian protecting her in their beauty. It’s almost like the Godswood, but not nearly as beautiful, yet it evokes similar feelings in her. She deeply inhales, releasing it a moment later, allowing her tense body to melt and fly off with the breeze. Subconsciously, her hand grazes the embroidered direwolf, lightly tracing it with the tip of her finger.

Snap.

A twig cracks, echoing in the silence. Visenya pauses, head snapping up, eyes raking the surrounding area. Nothing but towering trees with shadows acting as cloaks. She turns around, hand ghosting over her sheathed blade. Her breathing is quick and uneven, hands shaking ever so slightly. Her lip trembles and she bites down on it, unwilling to show signs of fear or weakness.

“Who’s there?” she calls out. “Reveal yourself, now!” she demands, eyes scanning the path behind her.

Silence.

She lets out a breath, watching as it appears only to dissipate into the cold air. She lowers her hand from her weapon, moving down the path she came from, eager for the warmth and light the tavern offers.

Snap.

She world around, gold eyes blazing like a fire in the thick of night. The forest seems endless, shadows dancing at the corner of Visenya’s vision, mocking her with deafening silence and blinding loneliness.

“I said, who is there.” Her voice is stone, not allowing even a glimmer of fear to seep into it. It cuts through the darkness like a freshly sharpened knife, her voice echoing far beyond what vision can perceive.

Snap.

Another twig, this time closer than the previous two. Like she’s made of air, Visenya quickly turns, but instead of stifling nothingness, a figure stands a few inches away. It’s a woman, with blood-like hair flows over her bare shoulders, the tips of it resting on its stomach. Her skin is pale, nearly grey in hue, but what’s most alarming isn’t her lack of clothing nor the murder in her eyes, but the blood splattered all over her. Some of it is dry, coating parts of her body like armor, while a few splatters appear to be fresh, still dripping off its body and splashing onto the ground.

It smiles a twisted smile that perfectly displays all her sharp teeth, tinted crimson from the blood.

An alp.

“Fuck.”

They move in unison, Visenya unsheathing her blade as the woman - or creature - lunges forward. It proves to be faster, body-slamming her to the ground. Its hands grab a hold of Visenya’s nails digging into her flesh. She screams but clamps her mouth shut, not willing to feed the lust for blood and pain in the creature’s eyes. It snarls, pushing against Visenya’s arms with inhuman strength, pressing them onto the damp ground. It hisses, droplets of drool tainted with blood falling onto Visenya’s face. She thrashes, attempting to force the beast off of her.

Her eyes feel heavy, suddenly, the desire to sleep and never wake up washing over her like a tsunami. But she fights against it.

‘If I sleep now, I’m dead. Stay. Awake,’ she keeps repeating in her head, willing the words to manifest into reality.

It hisses once more, almost mockingly. It leans down, inches away from sinking her teeth in Visenya’s throat. Visenya lifts her head, siphoning all the strength she can manage and smashes her forehead against the beast. It wails, falling back in pain, allowing Visenya to scramble out from under it. The creature continues to scream, the noise deafening. The sound causes her insides to twist and her head pound, to the point that she fears it might burst. She grabs the sides of her face with both hands, hoping to muffle the sound and make the pain stop. She closes her eyes, thoughts blurring together, as memories she only sees in her dreams fare to life in her head.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Visenya of House Targaryen, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” Jaime Lannister’s face appears in her vision, a much younger version than the one she’d last seen. His gold hair is soft and thick, falling perfectly into place. He holds a wooden sword in one of his hands, resting the flat part of it on her shoulder.

Visenya giggles, the noise hazy and unclear. She stands from her kneeling position, curtseying to Jaime, stumbling forward, and nearly face planting.

“Thank you, good ser,” she replies, a beaming smile on her childish face. He kneels, so his eyes meet hers. He holds out the small wooden sword, the size suited for a child of five.

“Now go, protect your mother Queen. It is your duty as a sworn member of her Queensguard,” he says.

“Fuck!” she screams. She rapidly blinks, attempting to force the images away. There’s too much danger, too much at stake to lose focus for even a second. The creature prowls towards Visenya, grabbing onto her leg and pulling her body towards it. Like a sack of grain, her body drags in the mud towards the monster. Visenya is powerless to fight back, only able to pray that the pain in her mind and body will go away. The creature flips her body: back against the ground and face looking towards the sky. She kicks her legs, managing to miss the alp each time. Its hands continue to move up Visenya’s body as it pulls her closer.

“Where are we going, Ser Jaime? Shouldn’t you be protecting my grandfather?” Visenya asks, rushing to keep up with Jaime’s longer strides.

“I need to show you something,” he says, voice grim but not harsh, yet it lacks the mirth normally present. He stops outside a door, and in her desperation to catch up, she nearly smacks into his legs, but narrowly avoids it since Jaime stops her body. He opens the door, which creaks loudly as it swings fully open. They’re in a room Visenya is all too familiar with, her mother’s chambers.

“Why are we--” Visenya begins, but cuts herself off as Jaime moves into the room. He strides through it, eyes focusing on one wall in particular. She rushes after him, eyes alight with curiosity she needs to sate.

He stops in front of a wall, crouching down. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge Visenya, even as her smaller feet patter against the stone floor, getting closer to him. She pauses only when she stands beside Jaime, grabbing his arm with one hand, placing her small head on his armored shoulder. A wall, there’s nothing else there but a wall; yet his eyes trace it intently, searching for something she can’t see.

“A wall?” Visenya asks brows furrowed with a small pout on her lips.

“It’s not just a wall, look.” Jaime runs his hand down the wall, pausing on one spot. He digs his fingers into it, grasping onto… something. Visenya watches with wide eyes as a portion of the wall slides open, revealing a small opening in the wall - large enough to fit a child and no more. “A crawlspace.”

“Why’d you show me this? I don’t need to hide?” Visenya asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion. She turns and looks at Jaime, her nose twitching slightly as she looks up at him.

“You will. The war isn’t going well, and if the city is attacked I need you to promise you’ll hide here?” Jaime pleads, speaking in a hushed tone, keeping the words hidden in her mother’s chamber.

“I don’t--” Visenya starts, but is cut off before she can argue further.

“Promise me,” Jaime says again, his voice more pleading and desperate. It’s a funny sight thinking back on it with adult eyes and a jaded mine: the lion begging for something, throwing aside all pride and appearances of regalness.

Visenya hesitates, watching him carefully for a moment, eyes too sharp for a child of five.

“I promise.”

Visenya slams her head against the dirt ground, trying to get the distant memories out of her head, hoping to force her body to stay awake and not succumb to sleep. Long, sharp, dirtied nails grab a hold of her shirt, pulling up her upper body. It snarls, lunging its face towards Visenya’s neck.

Searing hot pain spreads through her body. Yet it doesn’t leave her on fire, instead, it’s numbing like ice. Momentarily, the pain it’s screech caused is soothed, only to return tenfold. It’s like a million daggers are stabbing into her body, over and over again, in the dead of winter. She begins convulsing, screaming, louder than before.

“Well, if it isn’t little Visenya. Look at you, you’re not a child anymore, no, you’re fully grown, fighting Robb Stark’s little war,” Jaime Lannister says, sarcasm and mocking lacing every word. He lifts his dirt-caked face, looking up at Visenya with wide green eyes that somehow manage to still sparkle, even in all the filth that surrounds them.

“Shut up. I didn’t come here to talk to you,” Visenya says, keeping her voice as cool and calm as the winter winds. Her voice is low as to not alert any nearby guards, allowing the heavy wind to obscure most of her words.

“Really? Come to just see the spectacle then? See the state of the man who killed your grandfather and ruined your life?” Jaime spits, but he lacks any real venom. He’s like a lion, trying to make himself appear as large as possible in hopes of avoiding real conflict. Visenya ignores him, however, moving closer into his cell without fear.

“Or maybe you want to laugh?” Jaime mutters, banging his head against the post he’s chained to

Silence is his only response. Visenya moves further into his cell, holding something cold and metal in her hands that glints in the moonlight. Once she’s within arm's length from Jaime, she crouches onto the ground, purple meeting green.

“Well come one, don’t leave--” Jaime begins, but promptly shut his mouth, tightly clenching his jaw with furrowed brows.

Thud.

The metal chains fall to the ground, inches away from Jaime. His eyes follow the chains that no longer bound him, lines of confusion appearing on his forehead underneath the dirt and blood on it.

“Thank you, for my life,” Visenya mutters. Jaime moves his gaze back to her, and in her glossy eyes, he softens his armor - if only for a moment. Visenya begins to shake, like a leaf in a storm, remembering the simpler times that she ran around The Red Keep like a wild animal, and when Jaime Lannister wasn’t enemy number one to her family. Then like the wind, Visenya turns, quickly disappearing into the night.

She tries to headbutt the creature again, but she can’t move her head far enough to attempt it.

‘Fire, use fire!’ Visenya yells at herself, willing the flames that usually dance under her skin to flare to life. But nothing happens. She closes her eyes, focusing harder this time, trying to replicate the feelings swirling in her mind when she argued with Geralt. Tries to reign in the adrenaline from the Cintran Betrothal Feast or even the anger and grief she was drowning in at Blaviken.

Nothing, not even a flicker of heat.

She lets out a cry of frustration as the alp continues to drain her of blood. The world becomes dark, eyes heavier than previously. She continues to shake, trying to fight off the beast, even when her limbs feel like dead weight. Moments later, everything begins to feel light, the pain and fear slowly slipping away until she feels nothing at all. Eventually, her eyes flutter closed, the world turning black.

o0o0o

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you.

#geralt fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt of rivia fanfic #the witcher crossover #game of thrones crossover #game of thrones #Crossovers #fanfiction #the last dragon #Sami talks #sami writes #sami writes the witcher

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taste-in-music · 3 years

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taste-in-music’s Year End Wrap-Up

Hello everybody! We’ve finally reached the end of 2020. While I’m glad to leave this miserable year behind, one of things that undeniably got me through it was the vast amount of awesome music we got. In past years I’ve made favorite album and EP lists, but this time around I’m going to tackle them all in one go, giving reviews on the projects that had some significances to me over the course of the year. I’m going to make a post for my favorite songs too, so keep an eye out for that in coming days. Now, without further ado, let’s get started, shall we?

folklore by Taylor Swift: This was an incredible year of growth for Taylor Swift. As much as I’ve enjoyed her past music, the way she constantly felt the need to address what people thought of her always irked me, (though after watching her documentary, I do understand why she did it.) It wasn’t Taylor Swift the public persona that was most interesting, I thought. It was Taylor Swift the artist, the songwriter, the storyteller. What I wanted was an album focused on that. This year, I got one, (well... more on that later,) and it’s my favorite project she’s ever done. The tales Swift spins on folklore span across love triangles, heiresses, and battlefields, and she nails each and every one. While the chilly indie-folk influence from the likes of Aaron Dessner and Justin Vernon is prominent, Swift’s warmth and charisma always cuts through the fog like a beam of sunlight. So yeah, this is my undeniable album of the year.

Fetch The Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple: I only started listening to Fiona Apple last year and had thoroughly enjoyed her music, but this album cemented her as one of my favorite songwriters and performers of all time. Everything about Fetch The Bolt Cutters is so idiosyncratic yet fits together in just the right way, like watching an entire house being dropped from the sky and falling perfectly into place. It is a testament to the creative process, emotional honesty, and breaking free from all the cages you may find yourself in, whether they be societal, personal, or those of your own making. And in a year that was so isolating, it felt like Apple was whispering everything I needed to hear right into my ear, just when I needed it. In short, my boltcutters have been motherfucking fetched.

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers: When Punisher was announced, I had no clue how Phoebe Bridgers would match the quality of Stranger In The Alps. Upon first listen, I wasn’t sure she had. By the fifteenth time I was listening to this album and every lyric was hitting like Cupid’s arrow to the jugular, I knew she’d surpassed it. Punisher presents a sonic scope that both comforts and crushes all at once, like with the upbeat yet mournful horns on “Kyoto” or the cathartic swell on standout “I Know The End.” In my opinion, Bridgers is one of the greatest songwriters of our generation in the making, and I can’t wait to see what the future brings for her. She may know the end, but she’s far from it.

SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama: This is the album I see becoming a new shorthand for the true potential of pop excellence, a cult hit that never got its time to shine but is beloved by pop music geeks to the ends of the earth, like EMOTION by Carly Rae Jepsen. SAWAYAMA so effortlessly blends diverse genres and influences like disco, nu metal, and arena rock, and it yet it remains cohesive due to Rina Sawayama’s sheer strength as a performer. She deserves a spot on the pop girlie hierarchy, and one near the top.

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa: I really enjoyed Dua Lipa’s debut album, but even I didn’t expect her to come through with such a fully realized, consistent, downright fantastic follow up. Future Nostalgia is a pop album that feels studied, like Lipa did her research of pop’s past as she made it. The result is an album that synthesizes several different sounds under her vision, one that is always trained ahead, and it simply slaps. In a perfect world, nearly every song on this album got spun off into a hit single.

evermore by Taylor Swift: 2020 was already my year of listening to Taylor Swift, (I went through her whole discography, cultivated a favorites playlist, and at the end of the year I was in the top 2% of her yearly Spotify listeners.) evermore was a lovely cherry to top it all off. While folklore enchanted me with its stories, evermore captivated me with its melodies. I haven’t been able to get snippets of this album out. of. my. head. for weeks now. It’s a bit less consistent than it’s older sister, (and likely to live in its shadow,) but there is still so much to love.

I’m Allergic to Dogs! by Remi Wolf: This EP is so much goddamn fun. It’s a blend of many different sounds, indie pop, electronic, maybe hip hop, I think reggae at points? It’s such a colorful, textured, quirky listen bristling with energy and undeniable hooks. “Woo!” conquered my Summer, and months later the bridge of “Photo ID” conquered TikTok. Keep your eye out for Remi Wolf in the coming year, she’s going to make a big splash.

Good At Being Young by Charli Adams: Good At Being Young was the first EP this year that I could not get enough of. It drifts through dreamy indie-pop sounds, with melancholic guitars and cloudy synths, and Adams has a deep vocal timbre that delivers tales of adolescent tribulations with just the right amount of wistfulness. Overall, it builds the perfect soundscape for a late-night drive.

Cape God by Allie X: Allie X has been keeping us FED with content. It seems like only yesterday that Super Sunset came out, and yet her output remains impressively consistent. This album has impressive highs, some lower moments, but the danceability, duets, and enticing darkness under its shiny pop veneer make it a record you won’t want to skip.

La vita nuova by Christine and The Queens: Perhaps the biggest flex of 2020 was Christine and The Queens dropping a fantastic EP and accompanying short film right out of the gate. The grooves on this are infectious, wiry, and air-tight, (the Caroline Polachek feature was another added bonus,) but that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty of emotional weight too.

Lighter by Donna Missal: This was one of my most anticipated albums of the year, and it’s hard to determine whether it disappointed or not. I think the only thing holding Lighter back is that This Time was such a formative album for me, (my favorite of 2018, to the uninitiated.) In fact, this album flows way better than This Time, more cohesive with its storytelling and more consistent in folk-rock sound. And, of course, Donna Missal’s vocals stun on both the bangers and the ballads.

SURF by BLACKSTARKIDS: There was no record this year that was more instantly likeable than this one. The blend of low-fi indie pop and hip hop makes for a whirlwind of sunny fun and youthful malaise that would make the perfect soundtrack for a road trip to the beach. Standouts include the opening track “SOUNDS LIKE FUN,” the chill “WIGS,” and blissful title track “MUSIC TO SURF TO.”

The Baby by Samia: I’ve had my eye on Samia since “Milk” dropped years ago. Seeing her live sparked my belief that she was an indie darling in the making, and The Baby confirmed that she definitely was. The lyrics on this album mix quiet contemplation with just enough sardonic wit and raw emotion throughout a varied selection of sunny rock bops and gut wrenching ballads. If you enjoyed Punisher, then I can’t recommend this enough.

Season 2 by Nasty Cherry: Nasty Cherry is a group that I will not stop rooting for. Their EP from last year showed their potential for nailing monster hooks, but this sophomore effort shows just how versatile they can be. This EP covers everything from Dylan Brady produced hyperpop to early-2000s reminiscent pop rock to emotional balladry, and they pull it all off flawlessly.

A Little Rhythm and a Wicked Feeling by Magdalena Bay: This album became a fast favorite way late in the year, there is such a sweetness to Magdalena Bay’s music that makes it stick in your brain like a piece of blue raspberry bubblegum. This EP is spacey, catchy, and filled with electronic synthpop mastery, with countless catchy hooks that’ll make you feel like drifting and dancing all at once.

Miss Anthropocene by Grimes: The bubblegum bombast of Art Angels fully redefined my taste in pop years ago, so I was fascinated to see how Grimes would follow it up. On Miss Anthropocene, she leans into darker, more industrial textures, but also anchors it back to Earth with acoustic touches and some of her most introspective lyrics to date. Grimes painted a version of a world on the brink of disaster on this album, a picture that was hypnotically beautiful. And in a year where the word was a certified disaster, that was strangely comforting.

Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus: I’ve been wanting Miley to go rock for so goddamn long, Plastic Hearts was bound to make this list by pure validation alone. But what can I say? This breed of glossy 80s rock suits Cyrus’s rougher voice so well! I hope she stays in this lane a bit longer, but as we know, she’s one of pop’s most chameleonic figures. Only time will tell.

Where Does The Devil Hide by Zella Day: I have been patiently awaiting new Zella Day music ever since getting hooked on Kicker back in 2017, so this was one of my most anticipated releases of the year. This EP sounds nothing like Kicker, and I couldn’t be happier. It shows Day leaning even more into her influences from the past, (the 60s/70s vibes are intense with this one,) but also breathing a refreshing new life into them.

SOUL LADY by Yukika: When I imagine the ideal of pop music, what it would sound like in a perfect world, this is what it sounds like. SOUL LADY is full of pristine, glossy production and catchy hooks that feel like they’ve come down from the clouds. I’ll admit that I can have trouble forming a connection with music when I don’t understand the lyrics, (it’s something I’m working on,) but this album cleared that hurdle with ease. If you’re curious about city pop or K-pop this is a great place to start.

Heaven Is Without You by Love You Later: Give me lush pop production and heartbroken lyrics finished off with a heaping helping of nostalgia and I’ll eat it up with a spoon. Love You Later has been feeding my addiction to this genre for years, and this latest helping is particularly sweet.

IN A DREAM by Troye Sivan: Troye Sivan has always supplied the bops, but it was about time that he started experimenting with his sound a little bit more. This EP offers some harder-hitting electronic textures, but also the addictive hooks that’ll keep you coming back for more.

Ungodly Hour by Chloe X Halle: These women are so TALENTED! If there is any word I’d use to describe this album it would be “effortless,” the harmonies, grooves, and chemistry between Chloe and Halle feels so natural and free-flowing. Charisma just rolls off of them in droves, I see full-blown stardom and several Grammys in their future.

Watching You by Robinson: This EP was one of the first on this list to arrive this year, and it still hits months later. Robinson’s confessional lyrics work wonders over the buoyant pop grooves, and “Don’t Say” remains one of the best pop songs of recent years.

Manic by Halsey: I respect Halsey for dipping her toes into a myriad of different genres, (synth pop, rock, hip hop, and acoustic balladry,) but it does make for a jumbled listening experience. Still, I appreciate that this album features some of Halsey’s strongest tracks and writing to date, offering greater experimentation and emotional imtimacy than album’s past.

We Don’t Stop by Aly & AJ: Should this count? It’s more a compilation of their past EP and singles... I don’t care, I’m counting it because there’s some new stuff too. This is an excellent display of Aly & AJ’s pop prowess in recent years, the hooks, vocal chemistry, and shimmery production are undeniable.

Under My Influence by The Aces: The Aces returned in 2020 with a more laid-back, groovier record than their debut, exploring a wider variety of sounds. They’re as magnetic and likeable a group as ever, each member giving it their all, but I think I’ll return to the debut more often.

Strangers/Lovers by Dagny: I’ve been anticipating a longer Dagny project, as she’s been drip-feeding us singles for a while now. This was a lot of fun, with Dagny pairing her upbeat earnestness with stories of romantic tribulation. While the hooks aren’t as memorable as her past offerings, there is still so much to enjoy. Lead single “Come Over” and “Let Me Cry” are my favorites.

DUALITY by Tatiana Hazel: I came across this via recommendation on Tik Tok and it’s a solid pop record! The music is swooning, synthy, and tinged with disco and Latin influence. The record doesn’t waste a second of its runtime, clocking in at less than half an hour and grooving the whole time.

After Hours by The Weeknd: The sonic palette of After Hours is so engaging, a neon-drenched blend of synthwave, electropop, and R&B. I’ve always felt lukewarm on The Weeknd’s musical persona of brooding, villainous party monster, so the strongest moments on this album tend to be when he subverts that in some way. Still, in full, this album is an undeniable force of smash hits, stadium-shaking ballads, and cinematic flair. I can’t wait for his Super Bowl performance.

Petrol Bloom by LAUREL: It’s no secret that this year was chock-full of 80s revival albums (there’s what, five others on this list?) LAUREL wasn’t an artist I was expecting to go in that direction after the brooding folk pop of her debut album, but her deeper timbre works great alongside the synthy soundscapes.

positions by Ariana Grande: I’ve just come to expect that nearly all of Ariana Grande’s albums are going to be growers to me. My first listen to positions was underwhelming, but the songs have grown on me more and more. This album feels like being let in on a giggly, fun slumber party with Grande and her friends. I wouldn’t call this her strongest album by far, and while I tend to prefer when she favors the more powerful parts of her range, (and her enunciations could still use some work,) there is a lot of good material here.

THE ALBUM by BLACKPINK: We may just have to stan. I checked this out after watching their Netflix documentary, and while this breed of cacophonous, in-your-face electropop isn’t something I can listen to all the time, the hooks and charisma are undeniable. It certainly makes me feel like a bad bitch whenever I’m working out.

Kid Krow by Conan Gray: Conan Gray burst onto my radar offering dreamy tracks rich with teen malaise and suburban restlessness, and a good amount of that initial appeal carries over onto this album. Kid Krow has both a larger instrumental scope and more stripped-back moments. In the end, it still feels like Gray is finding his voice as an artist, but he's giving up great bops to jam out to as he does.

Petals For Armor by Hayley Williams: Hayley Williams is one of my favorite vocalists, so seeing her venture out for a solo project was exciting. This album offers a mixed bag of danceable jams, emotive moments that showcase Williams’s powerful voice, and a few skips. But overall it showcases Williams’s strength as a performer as she tackles her past with vulnerability and versatility.

Apart by LÉON: Oh, man. This one was kind of disappointing. For context, LÉON’s self-titled debut was my favorite album of last year. This follow-up is by no means bad, but every song on her first album was instantly memorable. This one, not so much. LÉON’s vocals are beautiful, and there are some stand-out tracks, but I don’t see myself returning to this nearly as much.

Blush by Maya Hawke: Maya Hawke’s Blush was to my 2020 what Tōth’s Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary was to my 2019, (and that makes sense, as they’ve collaborated in the past.) This album is so blissful and nonchalant, and Maya Hawke has a gentle, soothing voice that feels wise beyond her years. While the writing isn’t as hard-hitting as, say, the Phoebe Bridgers album, sometimes I just want to listen to something that could rock me off into a dream world. If you like folksy, down-to-earth ballads, you’ve got a solid collection of them right here.

Dedicated Side B by Carly Rae Jepsen: Of course Queen Carly would pull through with B-sides for Dedicated, did we expect anything less? Jepsen’s brand of controlled yet carefree shimmery poptimism drenched in 80s nostalgia that never fails to put me in a good mood. This album has some lusher, more tropical instrumentation than Dedicated proper, but works great alongside it.

Missing Person by Kelsy Karter: To the Plastic Hearts fans out there, your homework now is to give this record a listen. This rock album presents pop hooks, but a lot of reckless rock fun too. Kelsy Karter has so much irresistible swagger and carefree spirit as a performer, speeding through the emotional highs and lows like she’s burning rubber in a cherry red Cadillac.

how i’m feeling now by Charli XCX: I’ll admit, this album was a bit abrasive to me on first listen. But tracks like “anthems” and “forever” made me return, and it’s a huge grower. If you listen closely, you’ll find the sugary-sweet hooks and relatable sentiments nestled deep in the crunchy hyperpop textures, begging to be discovered and eventually loved.

Jaguar by Victoria Monét: If you enjoyed positions, then check out the debut from one of that album’s most prominent co-writers. Jaguar’s concise collection of silky R&B slow-burners show that Victoria Monet’s is a superstar in her own right.

Some great albums I listened to that didn’t come out this year: Blue by Joni Mitchell, BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA by BLACKPINK, I Need to Start a Garden by Haley Heynderickx, Plastic Beach by Gorillaz, Out in the Storm by Waxahatchee, 7 by Beach House, Dummy by Portishead, Lovers Fevers by Babygirl, and Red by Taylor Swift.

Whether you liked, reblogged, or commented on a post, sent me an ask, or interacted with this blog in any way, thank you so much for all the support throughout the year! I can’t express how much I appreciate it.

What were your favorite albums from this year? Did I miss anything? Send me an ask and let me know. I’ll tell you my thoughts, or put it on my to-listen-to list if I haven’t heard it.

Here’s to 2021! May it clear the extremely low bar set by this year.

#album #EP #album of the year #album recommendation #taste in music 2020 faves #taste in music

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darkbearobservation · 4 years

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May I request TFP Autobots and Hellboy (Movies) Crossover imagines? Can you especially emphasize on their first meeting and what they think of each other? Preferably post canon in TFP. Thank you bunches!

Ohh yeah! It came out very long, but I just loved the idea! I really enjoyed writing this.

Words: 1,709

----- "Ratchet, you called me, what happened?" Optimus asked, approaching his old friend. "I recently detected Decepticon activity." He replied, not bothering to turn his helmet towards Optimus. "Where specifically." "On Mont Maudit, specifically on a mountain in the Alps, on the border line between France and Italy." He typed in his digits, showing the location. "They must have found energon there." Optimus fell silent. Then he looked at the screen. "Is the group of Decepticons large?" "No Optimus, it's small." “Okay, so Ratchet, Arcee, Smokescreen and I are going to investigate, get the bridge ready.” He spoke and walked away. “Whatever you say, Optimus.” --- “On the Mont Maudit? And what had we forgotten there?” Hellboy asked, settling into the plane's seat. "The reports said that the villagers in this area complained about balls of lights stalking their homes, beings that come out of the water and then disappear, little men who leave their crops and livestock a disaster." Abe sat down facing Hellboy, putting his report folder and some papers on top of it. "Mont Maudit is popular for legends of witches, gnomes, ghosts, demons, saints, and monsters in general." “I think I have read or heard a legend from this area that, thanks to someone, the beings were trapped in the snow and since then they cannot leave. So they became more aggressive in recent decades." Liz approached in the seats, standing on tiptoe and putting her luggage in a closet. She then joined Hellboy and Abe, sitting next to Red. “Wow, this will be fun.” Sarcastically he murmured, lighting his cigarette. --- "Oh my God! May I accompany you?!” “Miko, no.” Arcee stepped aside, approaching Ratchet. "But whyyyyy????" She whimpered annoyed. "You bring a lot of problems." Ratchet snapped with venom. "Me? Bring problems? What's going, I don't even do it!” She raised her lower lip, offended. No one answered Miko's answer, nor did they flinch at looking at her! She felt sunken and sad... Until she saw Smokescreen. A sly smile appeared on her face. “Hey! You!" She murmured, waving her hand at him to come closer. Smokescreen looked to his sides, and put his digit on his chassis, making a movement on his nonexistent lips, saying "Me?" “Yes you Smokescreen! Come here." She waved her hand more. Smokescreen approached the Asian girl, Miko waved her hand more so that he leaned, he did. "Hey Smokescreen, Optimus and Arcee are going to make a patrol in the area that I want to visit, but they won't let me!" She got dramatic, closing her eyes, wrinkling her face, and placed the palm of her hand on her chest, concealing pain. “My parents had promised to take me there before, but their jobs broke our plans! Please Smokescreen, please! It's my dream!" Her eyes filled with tears. Smokescreen pulled away with shook, not knowing what to do. "What should I do?" The young autobot asked himself. "It is her desire for him after all, nothing will happen if I take her on this patrol, right?" He questioned himself. Seeing the poor blushing little face of her crying with puffy eyes, he had no choice to accept. Miko was glad in the outside, smiling, but internally she had fireworks of joy. It always works playing with feelings, right?

--- "It's good here." "The temperature is -18ºC, damn you red demon." Trembling, an old local man, surrounded by the old man, complained, leading them to a cave, where supposedly balls of light had been reported entering and leaving, that is, witches. "It's supposed to be here." Abe grabbed closer to his leather jacket. "Is there anything else that has been reported in this cave?" “I heard from some mischievous children talking about alien robots, who go in and out of this cave. But surely it is their imagination, since lately the children had become obsessed with a series of television on animated science fiction, I had seen several series, only technology is present there. » "Anything else?" "No." “Okay then, we will camp outside the cave. We will wait until night to hunt down the monsters.” --- “Arcee, you will check the western part of the mountain, Smokescreen, the eastern part. I will review the South and the North. If you detect the cave, warn on the communication radio.” "Got it Optimus." Arcee spoke. "Perfect then, see ya." Smokescreen walked away from his group. After he had walked enough, he opened his chassis. From it came Miko, panting. “I was suffocating from the unbearable smell ! When was the last time you had a bath?!” "I don't remember having bathed..." "You are disgusting!" "Do you want me to remove you from my chassis and carry you in my hand?" Miko began to tremble from the cold air. She lowered her gaze and breathed out. "Perfect then." Smokescreen laughed. They walked only ten minutes until Miko spoke in an annoyed tone of voice. "I am dying of cold." She curled up and tensed from the cold, trying to keep her body warm. Smokescreen quickened its pace. Before long they found a cave. “It must be this cave.” “Let's get in then! Or I will die of hypothermia” --- “Look, there are the skulls of some infants.” He touched a small skull with his boot to verify his statement. "Horrible." Liz wrinkled her face. "I forgot to mention that some babies had disappeared in the past two weeks." "Were they baptized?" Abe asked. "We don't have churches in our town, and if we want to baptize the newborn, we must come down from the mountains, something uncomfortable and difficult for us, that's why we just don't do it." "Are you atheists?" Hellboy hit the skull aside. "I would say that most do, but there are some who are Gnostics, nothing more." The older man shrugged. “Red, Liz, we'll have to climb to get to the witches' nest.” Abe pointed his fine finger at a cave that was almost on the ceiling.

--- "It's still cold in the cave." Miko trembled, holding her arms and rubbing them, trying to increase the heat. "Do you want to stay in my stinking chassis?" His smile widened from "ear to ear". The teenager frowned and put her lips in a fine line. Smokescreen just laughed softly. They advanced, until they heard a scream. They stopped. "Surely it is the wind." Miko argued. "Wind?" "Yes, I heard from Raf saying that in the caves, as there are many holes there or something that the wind upon entering produced sound-" Without finishing her sentence they heard another scream. Then another, another, and another. The screams were agony, some were higher than the others. Without a doubt, Miko's theory was momentarily rejected by the two friends, and they cautiously made their way to the source where the screaming was. Miko noticed that the temperature in the cave started to rise, surprisingly. As they turned a corner to the right, they noticed two "hallways". They stood between them and tried to identify which of these "hallways" the screams came from. "Left." Smokescreen claimed. "Left." The Asian girl agreed with her friend and nodded. The two entered the left "hallways". The screaming stopped, but they were more certain that they were reaching their destination, they trusted this. “Damn witches, they started to breed like rabbits!” A deep voice screamed in displeasure. "Stinky." A female voice spoke, but in a disgusted tone of voice. “Witches?” Miko questioned herself mentally. But her curiosity forced her to run towards the voices, which made Smokescreen gasp in surprise when she realized that she was very close to the entrance of a smaller cave than the previous ones. Smokescreen's ultimate terror was when she turned abruptly toward the cave entrance. He had to risk and run, making noise and tremors on the floor. What if it was Soundwave? Turning, he found this image: there were corpses all over the small cave, the blood was scattered on the ground, some "witches" that he thought they were, had some extermination ripped out, but they were few. But most of it was that their heads were exploded, as if a bomb had been put in their mouths. He encountered two humans, a man with wrinkles on her face and a woman with short hair. They had also... What were they honestly? A red human with severed horns and a blue humanoid? Were they other rare human races? The human with the wrinkled face dropped his weapon and fell to the ground, and the red man opened his mouth and dropped the cigarette he smoked. “Holly molly...” Red muttered. "Oh dear..." Abe muttered. "Oh God..." Liz murmured in unison with the old man. They were all in awkward silence. Miko gasped and her eyes lit up. "Did you guys do it?!?!? This is amaizing!!!!” Everyone was left with confused faces upon hearing the teenage girl's words. --- "Miko, you will never go out on a patrol with us, never." Angry Arcee spoke. "And I don't regret doing it." She sat on the sofa in a huge fur jacket and snuggled into it, pulling out her mobile phone and staring obsessively look at it. “Raf, look.” She approached the boy with glasses to show his photo in his eyes. "We had encountered with nonhumans." Raf adjusted his glasses and narrowed his eyes. "Were you in a city?" "No! We had found them in the cave! They killed witches! Look!" Show other photos. One of them showed Hellboy holding the head of a witch kissing her passionately. Raf wrinkled his nose. “Don't make up stories to get attention, Miko.” Jack spoke from his computer, finishing his homework. "Do not criticize! You haven't even seen the photos!” “Can I look, Miko?” The leader of the autobots approached the sofa. "Of course!" She got up from the sofa, dragging the fur jacket in her path. The photos looked friendly, first were some selfies of her and people outside of him, then came some funny photos of them doing silly things with the corpses, such as Hellboy dancing tango with one. “Also I asked for their phone numbers and they were so nice to give them to me. I also gave them mine so we can stay in contact.” Miko boasted. "YOU GAVE THEM WHAT?!?!" Ratchet yelled.

#Hellboy #Abe Sapien #Liz Sherman #Miko #Raf #Jack #Ratchet #Arcee #Smokescreen #Optimus Prime #Transformers #Transformers Prime #TFP #dark bear writes

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themovieblogonline · 25 days

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Is it Real or All in Her Head? "CUCKOO" is the Neon Horror You Need

Horror fans, get ready to mess with your mind! NEON, the studio that brought you mind-benders like "Parasite" and "Titane," is dropping a new flick called "CUCKOO" that'll have you questioning everything. The story follows Gretchen, a teenager forced to move to a fancy German Alps resort with her dad and his new fam. Sounds like a chill vacation, right? Wrong. From the jump, weird stuff starts happening. Strange noises in the night, bloody visions – Gretchen feels like she's losing it. But is it just her imagination messing with her, or is something truly horrifying lurking in this seemingly peaceful paradise? Monsters, Mental Health, or Both? The trailer for "CUCKOO" is a little dodgy about the exact threat, but it hints at a creepy creature or maybe even a murderous monster. But here's the twist: this movie could also be a deep dive into mental health. Is Gretchen dealing with a real supernatural threat, or is it a manifestation of something darker happening inside her head? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuON7HH0UkQ NEON knows how to cast a killer flick, and "CUCKOO" is no different. Hunter Schafer from "Euphoria" takes the lead as Gretchen, and trust me, she brings the scared-but-determined teen vibes perfectly. Plus, Dan Stevens (remember him as the creepy dude from "Beauty and the Beast"? Yeah, that guy) joins the cast, and his character seems super sketchy. Is he a good guy, a bad guy, or something else entirely? A Feast for the Eyes (and Maybe Nightmares) Director Tilman Singer is known for creating chilling atmospheres, and "CUCKOO" looks no different. Shot on 35mm film, the movie promises stunning visuals that'll draw you in before freaking you out. If you're looking for a horror movie that'll mess with your head and leave you questioning reality, "CUCKOO" is the one. With its blend of mystery, horror, and a touch of psychological thriller, this NEON flick is guaranteed to be a wild ride. So, grab your popcorn (or maybe a stress ball), and get ready to be creeped out! (Source: NEON) Read the full article

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a-dragons-journal · 4 years

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8, 13, 15

Send me otherkin asks!

8. What symbols, phrases, or concepts are important/resonant with you due to your kintypes? How long did you associate with these things before realizing the reason?

Oh, that’s a good one. Hmm.

Does “literally any draconic imagery” count as a symbol? Because I’ve associated and represented myself with dragons (including using the online name Dragonheart or a variation of it on almost every platform, which I still use except in ‘kin spaces where I go by Rani) since I was a pretty young kid.

I’m... failing to think of anything else off the top of my head, although I’m sure there’s more.

13. What makes you feel most “at home”? What types of sights, sounds, smells, etc. remind you of your kintype and put you at ease?

I happen to have lucked out in at least one aspect: the place I was born and where I still live is already relatively similar to my territory in my dragon life. It only gets closer if you put me in a river valley between mountains, like the Gorge, or just up in the mountains in general (I got to stay in the Swiss Alps once and let me tell you, I’ve never seen anything closer to home). On the other hand, this means that conifer forests, rain-mist off the trees, mountains and hills, the smell of rain, etc. all potentially make me feel at home both because of my draconity and because I’m an Oregonian.

On the more solidly draconic side - caves and enclosed spaces, being able to be up high and look out over what’s around me, and being up in fresh air and wind are all good. I’ll also confess that dragon/monster noise soundscapes are more comforting to me than they’re probably supposed to be; Tabletop Audio (google it) has a Sleeping Dragon soundscape that’s great for me. Alligator bellows also fall into this.

15. What was your first reaction to/opinion of your kintype? How has your opinion changed upon realizing that they, or at least a version of them, are you?

I feel like this is probably aimed more at fictionkin, but - I’ve always had a love for and connection to dragons. That love for and association with dragons was part of my sense of self long before my awakening. That’s really only become even more personal since then.

#otherkin #dragonkin #rani talks #asked and answered #anonymous #otherkin asks 2 #journaling

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autistic-victor-frankenstein · 4 years

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https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17tZKa7MLKM2ttPKRg8Vis?si=r0bfX-bLTBSDm8T2DI4Nfw

Anaylzing every song that reminds me of Frankenstein on my Frankenstein playlist

Quarantine has me going fucking wack

Creator/Destroyer -Angel Olsen

It sings abt bein lonely,having no place to go,and being sorry abt doing something but still being pissed,and has a resentment towards a 'creator'

I see it sort of like the creature ranting to Victor,starting w him reflecting on feeling outcasted 'I might be wishing I had someplace to go' /'the love inside has been empty'(feeling of belonging nowhere ,having nobody to love and losing the desire to love) as well as establishing he regrets his murders 'and I might be sorry but it makes no difference now/and like a ghost that hangs around and wont forgive its earthly sins

But he still feels 'starved' about victor depriving him of a companion. And therefore pissed

Memento Mori -Crywank

idk what to say this is just the type of music I'd imagine victor would have self deprecating episodes too just in general pff. But I guess ,like in an actual story like context,it could say it could sort of be the peak of Victor's downfall? Like when hes in the midst of everything and at his total worse in this spiral of self spite. Hes like reflecting on the inevitability of his loved ones doom as well as his own,his loss of innocence he shows to have treasured so much,as well as coming to the realization he is still a 'stupid little boy,too weak to understand what will come' hes viewing that he is immature and foolish,still very much alike the foolish child of his youth ,and now hes got this uncertainty of what the repercussions of his actions will ensue

Bad Bad Things-Andrew Jackson Jihad (TW violence mention)

A confrontation that starts w the creature and ends w Victor

if instead of victor freezing on Waltons ship,creature and victor finally confronted eachother in the arctic,or Victor's dreaming that,atleast? And wakes up for the last lyrics

Obviously the creature taunting the fuck out of victor

The mother part could probably be victor ,maybe in a flashback @ the alps or after wrecking the companion,(probably the former)going like"hey I'm willing to die,just please dont hurt my family anymore"

And then the creature going on anyways

Then the final part,is him looking the creature in the eye ,seeing 'the reflection of the coward you and I both hate very much' (Victor's reflection) and destroying the creature, then himself,and reflecting on the light possiblity he might go to heaven (but probably not)

Oh Ana-Mother Mother (TW:Violence)

YOU ALREADY KNOW BRO around the time of him making the creature. starting w victor all high and mighty like 'I'll be god' ,but also spontaneously losing his mental health like shit in the process ,then doing a 180 and going 'I'll fake God'

Idk what to do for the ending part,guess a flash forward to the creature hesitatant to kill off victor? Or the other way around? Idk

Last ones are gonna be a bit shippy,(Clervalstein/Waltonstein) so if that's not really ur thing u can skip my desc of the last two

Cliquot-Beirut (ft.Owen Pallet)

Part of the reason I wanted to make this post,this song is so good and also just really captures a fitting sound ,like it's got the style that would remind you of the the time and place (olden European sorta) that the book would be in

Walton or Clerval upset at the fact Victor's bedridden w a fever or dying of the arctic(minus the burning shit down part in the middle)

'oh what melody will led my lover from his bed'/what melody will led him in my arms again?'

And then verse 3 either Clerval reflecting on the good times they had or Walton reflecting on the good times they could've had. Then foreshadowing Victor's downfall and cause of death 'I'll sing of the years of you getting sadder and older,oh love,and the cold,the oncoming cold '

Futile Devices-Sufjan Stevens

Takes place around the time Victor's being healed from his fever by Clerval,and him sort of enjoying his presence sort of making him feel a lot safer after all the monster makin goofs.

Then coming to the conclusion he loves him ,but putting that love under the guise of 'as a brother' even though it sounds sort of dumb to him, and those words are sorta 'futile devices'

That's it

I'll reblog more if I ever stumble across them!

#frankenstein #mary shelly's frankenstein #Clervalstein #waltonstein #victor Frankenstein #henry clerval #robert walton #adam frankenstein #ask to tag #infodumping time BABEY #long post

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

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A Mage’s Blood

Summary: Anathema of Velena and Geralt of Rivia meet their match in the center of a city torn apart by a deadly threat.

Pairing: Geralt/OFC (Anathema of Velena)

Word Count: 7k

Rating/Warnings: M for language, and violence. A bit of fluff No smut for now, but stay tuned. Also, warning that it’s stupid long AGAIN! Like why am I so inspired to write about these characters and this story when I can’t work on my own book?! Not fair!

Inspiration: See previous inspo note-nothing has changed!

Author’s Note: Gosh, this story has been so fun for me to write. I’ve loved playing with Geralt, even if some of this maybe isn’t strictly canon for him. I adore the new characters I’ve created, too, as short lived as some of them are. As far as the fight scene at the end, I didn’t go into a lot of detail, so if you have a clear idea of how the monsters in question would look fighting Geralt, I’d be open to a collaboration and a rewrite. For now, reader, please use your imagination. also, she’s not beta’d because, of my three friends who would beta my work, one is too busy, one doesn’t give a fuck about this fandom, and the other thinks I’m cheating on Richard Madden and refuses to contribute to this “dalliance” with Mr. Cavill. lol! so...i read it two or three times and i pray. lol!

Tags: @fcgrizi @sunflowersstan @mylittlepartofthegalaxy @mstgsmy@lareinedususpense @geekycanuck @lunedelorient and @littlefreya Please let me know if you want to be tagged or if you want me not to tag you in things! I will not be offended!

There was cold light hitting the canvas overhead. It was just after dawn. Her internal clock could tell, too. Could feel it in the air pressure and in its chill. Last night the tent had taken on the orange hues of firelight. A passionate, warm light. This was so different. The scent of their union had faded with the starlight, but Anathema could still feel the burn of Geralt inside her. The abrasion of his whiskers where he'd made a meal of her body. All over, really. The evidence of him was everywhere. Everywhere but her bed. She rolled over to see him gone. She sunk deeper into the downy mattress and pillows. So much for the meaning of it all he'd touted before he'd ravaged her, she thought, suddenly bitter. Until she saw his belongings in the corner. She felt the space where he'd laid beside her all night. It was still very warm.

At that point, she heard a kettle whistle across the tent in the makeshift kitchen. She whipped her head around just as the flap in the tent fluttered open, admitting one witcher, holding a bristle brush in one hand, and a bundle of herbs in the other.

"Morning." he greeted, a warm, and very content smile on his face.

"Morning." she was shy, and somewhat awkward. She couldn't figure why. This man had lain her bare. What had she to be embarrassed about around him? She made herself continue with confidence, even if it was forced and sounded less than authentic. "Did you sleep well?"

"I, uh, suppose so, yes." she looked confused. "Witchers don't really sleep in the traditional sense that often. It hadn't been that long since I slept, so last night, I rested and recuperated my body by meditation. I mixed up a few potions, which always require some meditation to set. And just before dawn, I came out to feed and water the horses. I walked them around the water a bit so they could drink and get some of the tasty clover that tends to grow there. And I found some fool's parsley." He held up the bundle in his hand to show her." When we got back I put the kettle on for some tea and was brushing them when I heard it singing." He indicated the kettle with the brush in his dominant hand.

He was leaving something out. His space on the mattress wouldn't be so warm if he'd been gone that long.

"Your place in the bed is still warm, Geralt." she raised a brow at him.

"Ah," he said pouring the boiling water over the gauzy pouches in the cups he'd set out, "yes, well…I wanted to be next to you for a while before you woke. Your breathing when you sleep is a bit hypnotic. Did you know? You have a tendency to…moan." She blushed furiously. She hadn't really known, but had her suspicions something was…off about her…snore, as her mother called it. Her friends, such as she had, were never allowed to sleepover, nor was she allowed to visit them for such frivolity. She had thought at first her mother was just being cruel, because her sisters got to go to their friends homes all the time for overnight visits. But she sometimes awoke from light sleeps to a moaning sound that could only have been herself, as she was alone in her room. This made her think that perhaps her mother did her one small mercy in avoiding public scorn, no matter her motives, which were probably self-serving on some level.

"Oh, uh…I didn't think to warn you." She muttered apologetically. He sat his wares down and walked to her, knowing that she needed comfort, but confused as to why. He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, raking each knuckle along her petal-soft skin.

"You sound ashamed, Ana."

"I guess it's in my blood." she looked down. Laying into the feeling. He took her chin in his hand and wouldn't let her.

"No." he protested roughly. "It's in your past." He leveled his ember gaze at her, stealing her breath, but not for any salacious reasons. This was poignancy at its most rarefied from Geralt of Rivia. "Just because we bear the scars of our pasts doesn't mean we must also carry the weapons that cut them into our flesh." he wiped a tear from her cheek. "Once we stop carrying them, those scars they made can heal so much more easily. And they can't hurt us anymore." He smiled at her. "Mind you, I'm still working on this, and have yet to master it."

"It's still good advice. It's the right advice. And I needed to hear it." she pulled him close and leaned her head on his firm stomach. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and cradled her head in his massive hand.

"I think we all do from time to time." he paused, she felt him take a few breaths in and out. "Whether we heed it or not. It's…filed away somewhere. And we can take it out and live by it when we're ready."

They stayed like that for some time. Their tea chilling on the table. Neither of them terribly interested any longer in anything but the warmth of the other. Eventually they broke apart realizing that they had a purpose here on the outskirts of this now obliterated kingdom. Deeply sighing, they looked at one another.

"I should dress." she heard his chest make a deep rumble in mild protest. "Come, now, we have a monster to find, Geralt. Trust me, though, the sentiment is shared and reciprocated." She stood up on the mattress so she was about a head above him, and kissed his forehead, then proceeded to hop down, nude as a bird, pretending that his eyes on her didn't make her want to haul the blankets over her head and walk around like a ghoul until she decided what she would wear today. But she refrained, allowing herself to be bare and to try to just be comfortable with it. He turned, reluctantly going back to the duty of preparing the horses to break camp.

She twisted her hair into it's standard coil high on her head after donning one of the new outfits Giltine had conjured up for her. She felt almost unstoppable in the two piece crimson number. The neck was wide, showing off her shoulders and neckline. The sleeves would have been generous even had they not been slit open on top and held together at the shoulders, elbows, and wrists by jeweled buttons to match and coordinate. Red, black, and brown gems sparkled in the small settings as she tested the flow of the majestic sleeves. It fastened fitted in a wrap around her midriff. The slacks were of the same fabric and color and could have passed for a skirt. They were high waisted, almost meeting the blouse, ankle length, and flowing like an evening gown as she walked. Knowing there was also an element of danger possible, Giltine had fashioned her a simple, but elegant leather jerkin to wear over her torso. It featured several long and wide strips of deep brown leather running from the top hem to the bottom and lacing at the side running through bronze grommets. The one embellishment he’d made was a small sunburst embroidered on her left hip. “Warriors always have their crests or symbols embroidered on their dominant sides. I thought I’d give you an edge and confuse them. Make anyone who might attack you go for your strong side.” He’d explained. She truly appreciated the thoughtful gesture. Overall, the body armor was ideal. It curved where she did, and didn't pinch or poke where it shouldn't. It wasn't meant to hold anything in. It was meant to keep things out.

She swathed on a touch of color to her face, minimal at best, tied up her weathered brown riding boots and went out to see how close to ready Geralt was.

He was brushing Clove now, Roach gleaming in the morning light with his own freshly brushed coat. Both horses were nibbling contently on the grass below them as Geralt explained about the different varieties of vampiric nemesis.

"While the fleders can stun ya good, alps and bruxae will downright get into your head before they drain you. They're just more powerful. And I…" he trailed off when his eyes met her, appraising the new look with clear, if subtle approval. Her arrival ceased his grooming motions, as well, which Clove vehemently protested in the form of a petulant whinny.

"I don't think she appreciated you stopping. And I'll have to admit, knowing the power of both your touch and your voice, I don't blame her in the least. By all means, continue your lecture…professor." she half teased, as she stepped up to her horse to scratch her chin as she liked. That calmed her down considerably.

"Ah," he replied, "I tend to…think out loud…around horses…and it sounds like…okay, I fucking talk to my horse."

"I'm the same. Clove here was an excellent listener on the ride from Aretuza. I'm sure she won't tell anyone my secrets." she smiled up into the mahogany orbs, patting the mare's cheek affectionately.

"So the horse knows you better than I?" Geralt raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in accusation.

"Now, Geralt, you mustn't be cross. We just met. I've been riding Clove for almost a week now."

"So how long will you have to ride me before I know all of your secrets?" he teased, she scoffed in shocked amusement.

"I have never!" she was speechless. Not expecting him to twist her words like that. "I…I need to finish breaking this campsite down. It's approaching mid morning. We have so much still to do!" she hurried about, blushing furiously, taking up the tent stakes and checking for lost or abandoned items. She heard Geralt laugh behind her. And shout "You look beautiful, by the way." to which she squinted back a very satisfied smile, and shouted at him "thank you," while her back was still to him. She also thought she heard him ask "Is she always like this?" and she was certain a very affirmative whinny came from Clove. Traitor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In less than a half an hour, they were saddled up and mounted with all of their supplies. Geralt had donned his sturdy and studded leather armor today. The sun caught the steel studs in the leather, as well as the silver wolf medallion on his neck. He had never taken it off, and her spell last night to doff his clothes hadn't affected it. It normally worked on jewelry.

"That medallion you wear?" she began. "What magic does it poses?" she asked as they road nearer the fallen city.

He worried it in his hand for a moment, then put it down, and tried his best to answer her.

"I can't really say. It was imbued by the magicians of Kaer Morhen. All I do is tune it to whatever frequency I want it to pick up for me. Magic or monster." He looked at her, his eyebrows raised to her look of dissatisfied confusion, but he did not go on. She continued her questions.

“So…it senses magic and monsters?”

“Yes, that’s why I was able to come to your aid last night, actually. As we were riding by your camp, I felt it start to…sort of shiver. It knew the drowners were close. When I looked around and saw you there ready to face them on your own, apparently with just your dagger…I couldn’t let you die. And at the time, I was sure that would be your fate.”

She relived the event, which she should have found terrifying, she guessed, but either she was too confident in her abilities, or her adrenaline had won out.

“Lucky for me you were riding by and had it tuned to monsters.” She smiled.

“I usually do unless I’m in a safe area and actively searching for something magical. And lucky for me you noticed I’d grabbed the wrong sword!” He grinned back at her.

They rode along through the streets of the deserted city for a while in amiable if not comfortable silence. But the question pressed against Anathema's mind, trying to escape like pressure in your ears on a deep dive into water.

"So, it's probably no business of mine, so you're not obligated to tell me, but I do have to ask…last night you mentioned having your reservations about mages and travelling companions. Why is that?"

"Hmm. You're correct. It is no business of yours." She felt a sting at his coarseness until he continued. "And while you're right, I'm not obligated to share that with you, there are a few reasons that I'm going to give you a little background."

"Are you going to tell me the reasons, or just, start with the exposition?" she teased. He shot her a playful scowl.

"I think the reasons will become apparent as I explain, but feel free to ask at the end."

"Proceed."

"I should probably start many years ago when I first met the mage in question. Her name may be familiar to you. Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"You…you know…Yennefer? THE Yennefer of Vengerberg? She's the most powerful sorceress to come from Aretuza since the Lady de Vries herself!" Ana was shocked. To her core.

"I know her. I know her well, Ana." he looked at her pointedly, implying the sort of carnal knowledge with which she was only recently familiar. Oh.

"I see." she nodded. Coolly, but silently simmering with questions and a sort of confusing jealousy that pulled her in many directions. He continued.

"So, I met Yen when my former travelling companion became cursed by a Djinn. I needed a mage's help to break the enchantment or he would die. It's a long story, but…the general point was that she wanted the djinn's power for herself, which would not have worked. Through the whole process, Yen and I became…sort of, bound by fate…destiny…some might say."

She tried to process the fact that he called her Yen. He had pet names for the woman she so idolized.

"Our paths crossed several times since then, lastly on a mission that Jaskier, my companion--and friend, although I've been reluctant to call him that because of how ill the term suits me--was very keen to take until he learned of her involvement, knowing the…effect she had on me." this piqued her curiosity, but she filed it away for later inquiry.

"The campaign went fairly well until its very end, when, through a string of unhappy circumstances, Yennefer found out that the reason for our constantly being thrown across one another's paths was something less than destiny, after all." he paused for effect, which worked, and then continued.

"Back when we'd first met, and she was trying to imprison the djinn within her, she had no idea that I was the one to whom the creature was bound to grant it's three requests. She'd thought it was Jaskier. I had too, until I found out the contrary, in rather spectacular fashion." he reminisced, another question she would queue for later. "So for my last wish, I asked for her life to be bound to mine. When she found out…she was…well, she was pissed. And she stormed off, assuring me that I'd lost her, as I was unwilling to do." he looked down to Roach's black mane and scratched it to soothe his huffing that had began. Horses were so perceptive to the moods of their riders.

"Her leaving had left me…particularly surly." she raised her eyebrows. Surly was his default, she had gathered already, so for him to be even more surly than his normal self was actually a bit frightening. "Jaskier had sensed I was…cross. And as a bard, talking about things helped him. Despite years of riding with me, he never quite managed to grasp that I was not built that way. I wanted to be left the fuck alone. And when he tried to engage with me, I snapped. I blamed him for all my misfortunes. When in fact, a great many of them, he tried to steer me away from. I fear I may have broken his heart."

There were a few moments of silence for Ana to process Geralt's confession and for Geralt to recover himself from finally talking about this difficult event which, she gathered he really hadn't relived much, save for discussing with Roach, perhaps.

"So that's why I've been reluctant recently to associate with mages or take another companion. And why one combined, you may be able to tell could be a very complex idea for me."

She nodded. Geralt was, perhaps in love, for lack of a better word, with Yennefer, and she had left him because of this…misunderstanding. Which, yes, she could see where she was justified, and where Geralt should have mentioned this fact as it affected both of them much sooner. Being in Yennefer's shoes, she may have done the same.

Regarding his companion and bard, Jaskier, who he clearly felt a kinship and affection for, and maybe even an actual love, she was heartbroken for him. Saying goodbye to Codrick had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. He was the only real family she'd ever had. And her feelings for him were so complex. But she was sure if she'd hurt him like Geralt had hurt Jaskier, she would feel a regret of similar intensity.

"What are you thinking, little mage?" he coaxed after several moments of only muddy clops, skittering rodents, and shrieking crows.

"I was thinking about how I'd feel in your situation." she answered truthfully and thoughtfully. "I've mentioned my friend Codrick before, I know, and I think I had similar feelings for him as you had for both Jaskier and Yennefer. He was my closest confidant and he cared more for me than anyone else, including my family. And…for lack of a better way to describe it, I was in love with him. Or I felt like I was. It would never have worked. He was promised to Claretta, the fishmonger's daughter. Even though she could never give him what I could. Or that's what I told myself. I utterly worshipped him. I couldn't have had my fill of him had I spent my every waking hour with him. He was just so pleasant and kind. Easy. And just the man I thought I wanted. But my father wasn't interested in arranging a marriage for the family rat, anymore than Codrick's father saw me as a proper match for his future blacksmith son."

She let that sink in. The idea that she was the only one who could have pictured a future for her and Codrick and let the grief pass. Let something die that had never lived. And moved on.

"Had I lost him in the way that you lost either Yen or Jaskier, Geralt…well, I'd probably be about ready to give up on the idea of love and friendship, myself. Hell, even now, I'm aching just remembering the last time I saw Codrick, and thinking about how long it may be before I see him again. It may be forever. In all probability, it will be. But at least I don't have your regret. I said all I needed to say to him. I told him how I felt, even though it didn't change anything about our futures. I would have regretted those unspoken words."

"Well, aren't you a comfort. You're really making me glad I agreed to this partnership." he bit at her with sarcastic cheer in his gruff voice.

"Oh, Geralt, don't take it like that. I didn't mean--"

"Shh." he held up a hand to stop her talking.

"Don't think you'll get the last word just because--"

"Shhhhh!" he repeated more vehemently and drew his silver sword. "Silver." he whispered, and she drew her silver dagger from it's scabbard at her hip and her steel sword still coated in silver oil. The horses then began sensing something in the air. Something sinister. They began to buck and whinny, especially Clove, who was not used to monsters like Roach was.

"I think we should go on foot a while. Roach will always find me, so there's no need to tie him up. What about Clove?" Geralt rasped.

"Got it covered." Ana whispered before muttering an unintelligible incantation with a hand outstretched toward each of their mounts. They took their leave of them with loving pats, and looked after them fondly for a moment.

"What did you do?" Geralt asked, curious.

"Quick protection spell for them both. And I bound them to one another. So when Roach comes back to you, Clove will come back to me." She worried telling him might bring up his past with Yennefer again, but…he asked. He grunted. But thanked her.

"Don't worry. I'm not judging you at all for the way you behaved to…the people you…lost." she tried to comfort. He was not interested at the moment.

"Just now, I'm a bit more concerned about us getting drained by a Bruxa. Maybe we can continue that discussion later, Ana." he growled at her. They drew closer to one another and advanced in a natural tandem maneuver toward the city's center. Geralt watched where they were going, Ana where they had been, and they each took in as much of their periphery as they could. Birds took flight from long-held nests and rodents retreated to safer dens as the witcher and the mage slowly worked their way inward. To the danger. And Ana hoped not to their death.

A blood curdling scream came from one of the hovels just outside the palace walls. Ana turned to look at Geralt who paused to smell the air, grasped his medallion to check for monsters, and raced off toward the obvious peril. Great. Now she had to, as well. She wondered if being on journeys with Geralt meant running toward danger more often than not and if perhaps Yennefer and Jaskier weren't a tad better off outside his company.

But then she found him in the small shack. One pitiful room that was all things to a family of gods knew how many. Now held one small, filthy little girl, who couldn't have been aged more than eight. The hovel was covered in the evidence of a bloody attack, but no corpses. This little child was all that was left. And she looked like she'd just awoken from the grandfather of all nightmares. Her eyes were wider than coins, and dark with fear, pupils dominating the hazel irises ringing them. Eyes bloodshot. The poor thing had scarcely slept, probably in days. Geralt held her to his chest, kneeling to her height to do so. Her hair was dark, by the look, although it had clearly been a very long time since her last bath, if she'd ever even had a proper one in such a place.

Geralt shushed and soothed her. Petting her filthy hair and holding her tight, as if she were his own, which she knew to be impossible.

"There there, shhh. It's alright, girl. Everything is going to be alright. You're safe with us. Don't cry. I've got you. Hush now, child. Sh-sh-sh." perhaps the skill with horses had transferred to children. Perhaps witchers learned this sort of thing in their training. She just knew she did not. But he was terribly good at it.

"There, now, that's better, isn't it?" she nodded, still whimpering a bit. "What's your name, child?" he asked, kindly. More kindly than Ana had ever heard anyone ask anything. Let alone Geralt speak, save for some choice moments last night…

"Geeta." she said, shyly.

"Geeta. What a pretty name. Pretty name for a pretty girl." he smiled and pinched her chin. She blushed furiously. "Tell me Geeta, do you know anything about what happened in the town? Why isn't there anyone here?"

"They…the women…came!" terror flooded Geeta's big eyes along with the fearful tears of the haunted.

"What women, Geeta?" he asked her, a knowing concern in his deep voice. They both knew. But still hoped they were wrong.

"They came, in the night, they didn't have clothes, their eyes were red, and their hair was dark…and…the singing!" she bellowed in tears, reliving the night that the Bruxae laid waste to her city.

"There, there, child. They're gone now. You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you now." Geralt soothed her. "Where did you see them, child?"

"First, out there," she pointed out the window. "Then…" she looked tearfully around the room at the walls, which were spattered with something that, although now was brown, had once been deep red. Her family, however many of them there had been, had met their doom right here and she had somehow survived. What a strong little thing she was.

"Oh, little one." Geralt cradled the girl against him as if he was the one who needed comfort, and not she. Ana had given up holding back her own tears and let them fall freely down her lovely face. What would become of this poor waif, orphaned by monsters, her entire community wiped out by a blood-thirsty coven of Bruxae, and rescued by two of the least equipped and prepared people possible to care for her. Well, she shouldn't speak for Geralt. He was clearly killing the parenting thing. Regardless, if she came with them, she would be in perpetual danger. But then again, she'd come away from her last encounter with the she-beasts physically unscathed. Geeta may fit in swimmingly with the emotionally unstable duo.

Geralt looked up, hearing something with his mutant ears that the other two could not. Both of the females could, however, pick up on his spike in adrenaline and blood pressure at the sound, and his complete change in demeanor.

He held Geeta firmly by her shoulders and commanded her fullest attention.

"Now, Geeta, I need you to tell me, how have you kept yourself hidden from the monsters since…since that night? Is there somewhere safe in here?"

She pointed to the corner of the kitchen area where there was a cupboard, small, but well large enough for a seven-year-old child. And it soon became evident why she'd been safe there. A silver tray hung decoratively on the outside, apparently a family heirloom and not used daily.

"That's very good, sweetheart. Now, this is my friend Ana. And she and I are going to be out here practicing some fighting so we're good and ready for when we need to fight the monsters. It's very important so that we don't hit you by accident that you stay in there no matter what you hear. Don't come out until one us comes to get you. Do you understand?" she nodded. "Tell me what you're going to do for me."

"I'm going to stay in my cupboard while you and Ana practice fight, and I won't come out no matter what until you get me.

"There's a good girl. Now, get in there, and shut the door, nice and tight. And try to be quiet too, so you don't distract us. And here, I bet you're hungry." He winked at her, handing her an apple, a loaf of bread, and a small wedge of cheese he'd had in his satchel. Such a sweet moment when something so scary was afoot.

Once the child was safe and secure, the adults could properly panic.

"Geralt…what the fuck…are we going to do? How are we supposed to fight off a whole coven of Bruxae?! I've never even seen ONE!"

"I know," he said, grumbling in agitated fear, but holding on, she thought, for her, perhaps. "Bruxae are very rare, which, we should see as a mercy, but also, we are never as prepared for them as we could be if they were as common as bloedzuigers."

“So how do we do this?” Ana asked, stifling her own fear and apprehension about this battle.

“Well, we have a couple of options. We could leave. I can have Roach and Clove here in five minutes, we could abandon this quest, which almost seems doomed from the outset, forget the reasons we came here and just live for…” there was a pregnant pause where he said so much while saying absolutely nothing . “For the moment, I guess.” And she was ready to hear “themselves” or “each other.” But he couldn’t say it, apparently.

“And our other options?”

“You could take Geeta and run."

"Huh…I know we've only known each other a short time, Geralt, but I didn't have you pegged as a jester." Ana replied to his suggestion, entirely non-plussed and unamused.

"I'm not joking, Anathema. You two have a shot now while the Bruxae are far enough away that you can't hear them, but once you can, it will be unlike anything you have encountered before. It will hurt, physically and emotionally."

"It's not happening; I'm not leaving you to tend with gods know how many Bruxae on your own! You'd never survive, Geralt! THAT is what would hurt me physically and emotionally!"

"And if you're hurt during the fight?" he countered. "What of me? Hmm?" he stood there, panting at her in a panicked rage, eyes wide, nostrils flared. "If I get you killed--"

"Stop right there. You are not responsible for me. I insisted on being here in the first place, and it is by my own agency and accord I remain. If I die, you are to feel no guilt or responsibility. Understand?"

"Hmph." he assented, back to non-verbal replies. At least it was something. "I still don't have a plan of attack."

"Well, I may have some thoughts on that. I don't think we SHOULD attack them."

~~~~~~~~~

Ana had been marginally familiar with Bruxae prior to today, but had never encountered one. In theory, though, she knew their weaknesses from a mage's standpoint and what she could do to give Geralt an advantage. Geralt had a few signs in his arsenal that would be effective on them, as well as his silver sword. He didn't have time to mix any extra potions, but he had a small vial of Black Blood, which would make him toxic to any Bruxa who bit him, and a few extra vials of Kiss, Swallow, Tawny Owl, and some others. She knew a detoxifying spell that would help him recover from taking extra potions, and as an extra precaution, although it wouldn't be as effective as pure silver, he used some of her silver oil on his steel sword. He would be able to fight with both hands, at least for a while, this way, and do more damage. She re-oiled her steel sword, and had her silver dagger at the ready. She also rubbed a bit of the oil around the door handles and window latches and frames, in case they tried the house, where she would be providing ranged support under cover. She'd fortified the hovel with her enchantments, just as she had the campsite and tent the previous evening, as well as a few extras that she hadn't thought of then that might help today.

She could hear them now, faint and distant, but still began to feel a twist in the pit of her stomach. She also wanted to cry, but she didn't know why.

"They're getting closer. Here. This will help." he pulled out a large bundle of cotton tinder from his satchel, tore it in half, and gave it to her. "Roll a bit up and pack it into your ears. It won't get rid of the symptoms entirely, but if you keep your mind on something that makes you happy, the pain shouldn't steal your focus from the fighting." she looked at him, smirking.

"What?" he asked, the shadow of what could have been a darling grin if it just tried a bit harder passed his face.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Just…wondering what makes a witcher happy enough to drown out the song of the Bruxa?" she smirked at him as he ran a whetstone over his silver sword.

"Oh, plenty, little mage." he allowed himself to show the faintest smile as he sharpened his blade with that satisfying sllllllank. "We witchers live for bloodshed, you know. Once the fighting starts, I may not even need this cotton. I'll be in such a splendid mood, I'll be able to take the Bruxa song undiluted." He had found his sense of humour. Thank the gods.

"What about you? Thinking about stealing your blacksmith away from his fishmonger's daughter, little mage? Is that going to be your happy place?" he asked, checking the blade he'd just sharpened, finding it satisfactory, and asking wordlessly for Ana's silver dagger to do next.

She let out a huge sigh indicating her thoughtfulness on the matter as she handed him her weapon. If you'd asked her the same question last week, she would have said yes in a heartbeat. But now…after last night…even though it was foolish, perhaps, her happy place was sitting across from her in the desecrated hovel sharpening her dagger for battle. She didn't even have the heart to tell him that she could do it with magic so much more quickly. But he'd kind of stolen her heart, this big, grumpy oaf with a heart of gold.

"Well, Ana? Are you going to ride back into Velena, turn your rival into a trout and take that boy for your own, or aren't you?"

"Hahaha, well, it's most tempting, and if we make it out of this alive, I'll call it an option. But, umm, no, I don't think that's my happy place." she looked at him, squaring off with his gaze, unable to look away, but unable to speak her truth now. It would hold too much weight now, with a battle so near with such an uncertain outcome, that speaking her peace seemed…both overly sentimental and a bad omen.

Speaking of bad omens, the Bruxae were getting closer, their sickening song getting louder.

"I'm going to get into position. Are you ready?" they both stood, nerves causing them both as much unease as the Bruxa song, and for which no amount of cotton would ever help.

"I'm ready." she responded. Ready for it to be over, she thought.

"Good. One more thing." he added. He stood before her and pulled her to him in the most warm and filling hug he could have managed, armor or not, and then kissed her so deeply, thoroughly, and lovingly that she saw stars.

"Remember, don't give yourself away too early. Try to pick off the outliers and portal them away so the body count doesn't draw attention. And be safe."

"Don't forget to give the signal when you need me to detox you. And don't be a hero and wait until you're on the verge. Let's keep your toxicity low and manageable. I'd rather cast my spell a dozen times when you're more or less okay than have to worry about you passing out because you've only asked me twice. And you be safe, too."

“Be safe” seemed to translate into something more meaningful. He picked up his swords and headed out the door.

She held it together well as he left her. Fought back the tears with a valiant effort until she turned to the small crate on which he’d lain her dagger…and his wolf medallion. How did she miss him taking it off? She’d hardly had her eyes off him the whole time they were strategizing. Her eyes filled with tears now. She picked up a small note that was tucked under the hilt of the dagger. It read:

“Don’t get any ideas. I’m going to want this back after the fight. -G”

As messy as the scrawl was, the G was rather elegant and ornate, by comparison. She pressed the note to her lips and tucked it into her jerkin, near her heart. She slipped the medallion over her neck and chuckled. The wolf, which normally rested high between Geralt’s meaty pecs, now hung halfway to her belly button. He was so thick and broad. She'd barely noticed last night. There was hardly time. She regretted it now, not memorizing everything about him. The very shape of him. Every curve and ripple. Every plane and divot. If they got out of here, she'd be sure to do that. They'd make love at least once more before they parted ways and she'd see to it to document every perfect inch of him.

She was stunned out of her reverie by a shiver emanating from Geralt's medallion. The Bruxae were getting closer, but weren't singing. At least not loudly. She felt bad for wearing the medallion, which she felt was one of Geralt's best advantages over them. It helped maintain the element of surprise. But he must have had his reasons. Maybe he thought she needed the silver more than he did. It hardly mattered now, as the decision was long made and unchangeable.

He stood in the middle of the city street, eyes closed, listening, breathing in the crisp chill of the dusk. A Bruxa could function in the light of day, but they preferred the night. They were stronger outside the reach of the sun. Geralt thrust his steel sword into the dirt in front of him, downed the vial of Black Blood potion, and took a knee, casting Quen around him to protect himself from their imminent descent. He held his silver sword in line with his spine, hoping to deflect a few of the more timid creatures and make them easier for Ana to pick off. As they entered the street from above, floating in as if they were spores on a breeze, they began to test the shield around Geralt. It was the gold of pure sunlight, but didn't seem to cause them discomfort. Only curiosity. There came about 14 in total, Ana counted.

Their skin was almost like looking straight at the moon and each had hair so black, it was barely visible against the night sky. Their eyes were like rubies, and blood red, as were the tips of their fingers, if that’s what they could be called. It was as though talons, sharp and pointed as knitting needles grew from their hands. As Geeta had reported, they were completely nude, and had they not been so terrifying, Ana thought they may have been beautiful. Perhaps they were, once.

She started to portal them out of the hot zone as Geralt's shield weakened, and to the rooftops across the street…the top halves to one building, and the bottom halves to another. She'd been able to take out no less than five when the dwindling numbers were noticed by the others. They began to shriek in earnest and the Quen shield began to flicker, giving out under Geralt's new stress from the song, only partially blocked by the cotton tinder he'd packed into his ears.

He spun into motion now, drawing the steel from the ground and thrashing with both swords at the she-beasts as they advanced on him. He caught limbs on some, and drew blood on others, but it was not enough to take them down. He took a moment to cast Quen again so that he could safely take some more potions. Ana would later deduce that he took Kiss to rejuvenate him and Blizzard to increase his reaction time. He also signaled Ana to hit him with her detox spell. A good plan, and almost too late, three potions in. She'd have to watch him more closely if he was going to hold out like that.

Ana continued to pick off the Bruxa outliers, as Geralt cut down the ones that he could until they were down to just two.

They were clearly the strongest ones and Ana couldn't get to them before one was sinking her teeth into Geralt's neck. Ana felt her stomach drop. She didn't want the Black Blood to come into play…even if it would be effective. She heard him mutter a "fuck" as he struggled to staunched the bleeding wound. The dying Bruxa had also dropped him on his ample arse as she was gasping for breath through inky, sputtering lips. She had gotten a heroic measure of Geralt's tainted lifeforce, and was now paying the price. Ana smirked. Served the monster right, she thought. Until she heard the most chilling cry of all.

"SISTEEEEEEEEEEEER!" The last surviving Bruxa rushed to the one clinging for life in the dirty streets of the city they had eviscerated, red tears streaming from red eyes down a chalk pale face. "Shay! Shay, my sister! Do not leave me!" Ana almost felt pity. She'd had sisters, after all. And she loved them. As they did her, in their way.

"Meena…Meena, I'm cold." Shay, the dying Bruxa uttered and breathed her last.

"You MONSTER!" Meena, the last Bruxa of the coven spat at Geralt.

"You're one to talk." he chided her, having none of it.

"All we desired was the girl. But we couldn't find her. She hid from us. She hides still. Her blood is the cure."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Geralt was confused. Good. Ana was certainly confused, as well.

"We were cursed and a Mage's blood is the only cure. The little girl who lives in this hovel was the only conduit for leagues that my sisters and I could find. We needed her blood. But these…humans…wouldn't give her up."

Ana was piecing it all together now. That silver platter was no accident. Geeta was like her, and her parents were protecting her…in a cupboard…the irony was so rich, Ana could scarcely process it. And now, this Bruxa wanted to drink her blood to…what, become normal again? Would any mage's blood do? She was guessing. Ana was about to do something very heroic…or very stupid…the two, she knew, were often only distinguished by purpose and outcome.

"What about me?" Ana asked as she stepped out into the street from the small home.

"Ana! NO!" Geralt shouted at her.

Meena hissed in Ana's direction, startled by the appearance of a new adversary. "Who are you?"

"I'm Anathema of Velena. I'm a mage. And much better equipped to sustain a bite than the poor little girl you've been hunting." she stood her ground with a proud strength, unafraid of the demoness before her.

"I don't see why it would hurt to try." Meena laughed cruelly in her throat and darted toward her.

The rest, was a very dark, cold, and rather bumpy blur.

Parts 2 and 3 coming soon!

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