#additional scene

[bigfrozenfan]

If the scene doesn't play just click on it once.

I hope we'll see the complete song in ASL animation in the end.

[astaldis]

@fluffbruary

For the Fluffbruary prompt 6 "gregarious"

Chapters: 1/1        Words: 878 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt of Rivia & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy Additional Tags: Book: Chrzest ognia | Baptism of Fire, fluffbruary's Fluffbruary Prompt Month 2025, Friendship, The Hansa | Geralt's Company (The Witcher), Additional Scene

Summary: Geralt and Regis are having a conversation in the sun. (Additional scene for Baptism of Fire chapter 7)

[wearingaberetinparis]

Awesome chapter! I can't stop thinking about how the conversation with the Potters went tho lol 'hello parents, remember my fake ex turned real gf turned real ex? um... I got her pregnant and I'm gonna be a dad. shall I make some tea?' 😂 no but real talk, he must have been hella stressed and anxious about it. poor James. I hope he at least got a hug from them (after being told off lol)

Thank you so much, sweetheart! I'm so happy you enjoyed it and I completely understand that you can't stop thinking about it. I sometimes regret not being able to write those scenes due to the fact that the story is told mostly from James' POV. But... I think I've got a little something for you, which you might enjoy! Please read the scene you requested below the cut and ignore any typos you might find. I wrote this in one go and didn’t edit it one bit... whoops!

“You must have missed us over Christmas to come driving down here from London practically the moment we touched down,” his mother said, pouring him a cup of tea and shoving a piece of Greek, spicy walnut cake – his mother always went on a bit of a Greek baking frenzy after returning from what she considered to be her home country – his way. “I’ve barely had time to unpack.” She placed a hand on his cheek now, her thumb caressing his cheekbone, careful not to touch his glasses. “It is lovely to see you, my darling.” He wished he was certain she would still think so after he had told both her and his father what he had come to say. The thought of it alone made him feel nauseous, although he nearly grimaced thinking that too for he realised that he could not complain about feeling sick when he had witnessed Lily make a run for the bathroom every few minutes. Your fault, he thought to himself. He had never thought he would be the one to end up ruining Lily’s life. He had hoped he’d be the one to stand by her side through any storm she would have to weather. Not once had he considered that he might be the one to cause a full-blown hurricane to enter her life. “What did you do for Christmas and New Year’s Eve?” his father asked him. “Fleamont,” his mother interrupted, “are you sure we would want to hear the details of it all?” “It wasn’t like that at all, mum,” he said, remembering how he had driven up to Watford on Christmas Eve to pick up Lily, how his friends had teased him silly over the fact that he would be a father in a few months’ time on Christmas Day itself and how he had spent New Year’s Eve in the knowledge that the upcoming year would be life-changing. Sure, he might have had a bit too much to drink then, trying to drown his misery and the oppressive guilt he was experiencing, but it wasn’t exactly the typical New Year’s Eve he was sure his mother imagined a not-so-willing bachelor would experience. “Well, your cousins were very jealous of the fact that you spent New Year’s Eve in London,” his mother said as she sat down in her favourite armchair, leaning back against the soft pillows, cup of tea elegantly raised. “I imagine they will be terribly disappointed to hear you didn’t enjoy yourself to the fullest now that you’re still young.” He rolled his eyes at that. “I’m to turn thirty this year, mum,” he said, “that’s not exactly old, is it?” “It isn’t,” his mother said pursing her lips. “Although I confess I had hoped you would be a little more settled at this point in your life.” There it was, he thought. Well, don’t you concern yourself too much, mother. It seems like life has thrown a curveball my and Lily’s way. You may be getting exactly what you want sooner rather than later. “How terribly old-fashioned, Mia, my love,” his father came to the rescue, dangling his piece of walnut cake between his fingers. “I thought you had resolved not to be anything like your own mother.” “Yes, well,” his mother said, scrunching up her nose at the mention of James’ grandmother. James only had vague memories of her, but he knew his mother had never been on the best of terms with her own. “Maybe,” his mother then continued, “I am simply disappointed that James is here by himself and still hasn’t managed to fix things with Lily.” His mother shook her head at him. “Please tell me you have at least spoken to her again about the lawsuit. I really do feel that we need to go ahead.” “I have spoken to her,” he replied, wondering if this was perhaps the moment to tell them what they had spoken about exactly. He scooted forward a little, placed his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “Actually, that’s the reason I’m here –” “Has she agreed?” his mother leaned forward. “Oh, that’s most excellent, James! I must make a few calls now. You could have told me straight away, you know.” As she spoke, she had put down her tea and she had half gotten up from her seat already. “No, mum,” he said, “that’s not what I’m here for.” His mother sent him a look. “Then get to it, so I can get to work,” she told him impatiently. “You know how badly I want to make those absolute miscreants pay. They deserve every bit I’ve got coming for them.” He swallowed hard, avoided his mother’s eye. “You see,” he said, sounding unsure of himself and he rarely ever was, “it’s rather embarrassing, really.” “Embarrassing?” his mother asked, clucking her tongue. “It can hardly be more perplexing than your latest break-up.” Ha, he thought, oh, mum, you really won’t see this coming, will you? “I don’t think any of that will help, my love,” his father said. “I know you’re still upset that James and Lily didn’t last and I have to say I am disappointed too, because I really like the girl,” James very nearly cringed here, “but James was the one who got his heart broken. Surely, he doesn’t need to be constantly reminded of the fact that he messed things up?” No, dad, he thought, I really don’t need that, but thank you for bringing it up once more. “Oh, that he did,” his mother agreed with his father. “Now, James, whatever it is: out with it, so I can get to work on the Riddle Case.” He wondered how Lily had had the courage to just come out and say it. How the words James, I’m pregnant had spilled from her lips as though it wasn’t going to make everything so much more complicated than it already was. He wondered how she had been able to tell her parents – although, obviously, this hadn’t gone well for her at all – while he felt as though he was suddenly sixteen again and was about to confess to some illicit scheme or had to explain why the headmaster had once again called to complain about him, even though he had done absolutely nothing wrong. Perhaps he found it so difficult to confess now, because this time he realised he was actually guilty of something. The one thing he was grateful for, despite it all, was that he had decided not to bring Sirius. Things would be so much worse if he had. He could just imagine Sirius blurting it out for him: “James here forgot to suit up his sausage and got his ex-girlfriend and co-worker pregnant. What’s up with you guys? Did you enjoy the Grecian sun without us?” “All right,” he said, rubbing his sweat-coated palms against this jeans, “so, as you know Lily and I were colleagues that turned into something a little more and I know you know that we had sex –” he felt a blush creep up his cheeks. He truly felt like he had gone back in time and he was a teenager once more. “Well, it appears that we weren’t always as careful as we should have been –” “Oh god!” his mother exclaimed, placing a hand on her chest in a truly dramatic fashion. “You didn’t, James!” He ran a hand through his hair. “It appears that I did.” His mother let out a strangled noise, his father’s eyes darting from his wife to his. “A sexually transmitted disease, James?” his mother sounded scandalised. “Please tell me you didn’t give her one of the bad ones that can cause real damage –” If he hadn’t been bright red before, he certainly was now. “Mum!” he was unable to keep his discomfort and his outrage out of his voice. “What the actual fuck?!” “Well, of course it was you that gave it to her!” his mother snapped. “The poor girl!” “Mum,” he said forcibly, “I did not give Lily an STD!” “How uncouth of you to suggest that the poor girl, who has already gone through so much trauma is the one to contaminate you –” “Euphemia,” his father then said, “I think you might be misreading the situation just a little.” “– I expected better of you, James Fleamont Potter!” his mother ignored his father. “I honestly believed I raised you to respect women at all times and to be a proud feminist, but it seems that you are actually more of a misogynist –” “Truly, Euphemia,” his father tried once more, “why don’t you listen to our son? Allow him to explain?” “– how dare you blame the girl?! I thought you knew how harmful victim-blaming is exactly –” “Mum!” he shouted, getting up from his seat. “For fuck’s sake, I got her pregnant, okay?” His words rang through the living room, his mother’s eyes widened, her mouth snapped shut, her face rapidly drained of any and all colour. His father, on the other hand, appeared calm. “That’s what I thought,” the elder male Potter spoke. “Now, let’s all calm down and talk this through –” While his father spoke, his mother got up from her seat and left the living room. The silence she left behind was deafening and James’ heart sank. “I’m sure she’ll be back in just a moment,” his father told him. “Don’t worry, James.” James very nearly scoffed. Don’t worry? Are you joking? Mum just stormed out of the living room! He let himself fall back on the sofa, groaning loudly as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “This did not go as I had planned,” he said. “Yes, well,” his father said, “I would wager none of this situation was planned, but what can you do?” Then he had the audacity to take a bite of the walnut cake his mother had baked. “Mmm,” he hummed appreciatively as he swallowed his first bite, “your mother has truly outdone herself with this one. Why don’t you try it too?” He wasn’t sure what he hated more, his mother’s dramatics or his father’s ability to remain calm in the eye of the storm. Before he could truly complain, however, his mother walked back into the room, carrying a red, fuzzy blanket in her hands, which was covered in lightning bolts. He recognised it straight away as having belonged to him when he was little. “I kept this,” she said, he noticed that her eyes had a glassy sheen to them, “for this moment exactly.” The fingers of her left hand brushed against the fuzzy material. “Although, I do admit, I could not have predicted the exact circumstances.” “Mum,” he said softly, but she held up a hand. “The situation is unorthodox, certainly,” his mother continued, “but then again I shouldn’t have expected any less with your tendency to surprise us at every single turn.” “I think,” his father took over, “what your mother means to say is that, while not perfect and perhaps a little unusual, we are delighted to welcome a new addition to the family.” His mother nodded a little stiffly, but James recognised this as her attempt to reign in her emotions. “You know your father and I for a long time thought we wouldn’t ever get to experience this,” she teared up here, “but then you happened and then – a matter of years later – you dragged Sirius home and now –” her lip trembled. James took this as his cue to get up from his seat, walk over to his mother and wrap his arms around her. She welcomed his embrace, leaning in to him. “I’m sorry,” she almost whispered, “I don’t know what possessed me earlier.” “No, mum,” he replied, “it’s okay. I’m –” he closed his eyes, took in a deep, shaky breath, “– I get it. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” “I’m not surprised,” she laughed against his chest, “seeing as I screamed at you like a Greek Fury!” “It was not completely unwarranted,” he shrugged, pulling her just a little tighter before stepping back. “I may not be guilty of the crime you thought I’d committed, but I’m still a conscience-stricken offender.” “Oh, sweetheart,” the look on his mother’s face was soft, “these things happen, especially when you least expect them to.” That they did, he thought. That they did. “How is Lily faring?” his father then piped up. James grimaced. “She’s not great,” he replied. “She spends most of her days in bathrooms, it seems.” “I was the same,” his mother nodded thoughtfully. “It must be something to do with the Potter sperm.” “Mum,” he pulled a face. “Really, James,” she practically scoffed, “seeing as you got the girl pregnant, I would think you would no longer squirm at the use of words such as those.” Then she huffed. “Now, Fleamont, tell him exactly how he should behave around a pregnant woman, so I can wrap this up and write the poor dear a note. She must be absolutely beside herself with worry and stress and some support from one woman to the next goes a long way.” His mother walked off and he turned towards his father, who wore an amused smile on his face. “Truly, son, there is only one thing I can say: when your mother was pregnant with you, the only thing that worked was agreeing with her on every single thing.”

[sillylittlemistakes]

Killing Eve Post-credits scene

London. Evening. The Sun is going down.  Eve is sitting still on a bench in front of the Thames. Quiet surroundings. Nobody else in sight. We only see Eve’s back. She is looking straight ahead at the flowing river. Light wind is playing with her wavy hair, but she doesn’t mind. The camera is slowly moving closer and closer. Suddenly, a hand appears on Eve’s shoulder. Long slim fingers. Bright nail polish. Part of a colorful, patterned sleeve can be seen. We don’t see who it is, but we know it can’t be anyone else.  Eve turns her head around. She seems surprised. But is she? She hoped it would happen. She dreamed about it. She went over everything in her head a million times. But did she think it was actually possible? Eve smiles. She looks both happy and impressed. “How the fuck did she pull this off?” Fade to black. THE END

[petroltogo]

What I meant to do was write a short little Byakuran POV that gives you more insight into how activation and deactivation work. What I actually wrote was a lot of Byakuran POV but not that. Oops?

The world is made of patterns. They are everywhere, govern life on every level, from the habits of a single individual to the way traffic moves on the central roads of a megapolis to the way a country is run, the way an entire society functions — everywhere Byakuran looks, patterns stare back at him.

Some are obvious, a glaring color that is uncomfortable to look at directly amidst a world shaded in grey. Some are subtle, a gentle flow you can barely perceive with the naked eye and all the more influential for it. Don’t get Byakuran wrong because there’s one thing about patterns that keeps tripping people up, keeps messing with them and holding them back from seeing what seems so painfully obvious to Byakuran, it might as well have been written in glowing, orange letters on the sky: Patterns aren’t a pre-determined backing form that decides what size and shapes the muffins are gonna turn out to be. They’re fluid. Patterns break and stutter and readjust every day, every moment. They are deterministic and adaptive both, malleable to circumstances and chance, yet they ultimately prevail. They grow and they stumble and take a sudden step to the left because someone or something falls out of synch — but they always, always continue to flow.

It would be incorrect to say that Byakuran see predict the future because what he actually does is see a future. Every time a pattern catches his attention, every time a new one settles into the world around him, Byakuran sees it and he can use that to predict the most likely courses of action. Can see where that pattern will lead, what will come of it, which one will triumph over the other patterns already in place.

[continues under the cut]

Of course patterns break. Patterns die away. Quietly. Their potential unseen, the lost opportunities unmourned. Sometimes it’s chance, sometimes it’s a single person’s disruptive will. Sometimes it’s Byakuran’s when he doesn’t like the outcomes a setting pattern will lead to, the subtle mood it eludes.

Here’s the thing: Byakuran couldn’t always see the patterns. Couldn’t always pick them out with deadly accuracy as though they light up in individually colored fairy lights just for him. Couldn’t always close his eyes and listen to the soft hum they give of, an almost inaudible vibration that conveys a pattern’s character in a way even Byakuran with all his intellect and multiple languages to fall back on struggles to put into words.

It’s a bit like they’re talking to him, sharing their essence with him. Like the world whispers and if you only take the time to pause and listen carefully, you’ll hear what it says and you get to pick which ones voices you like the sound of and help them grow, help them outshine all the others and so the way you speak back reshapes the world’s very voice right before your eyes. It’s a heady feeling.

But when Byakuran first started, it wasn’t about power. Wasn’t about manipulating the sound that colors all the world’s open spaces. It was— It was just something to do. The patterns were Byakuran’s first friends. 

Because seeing the patterns isn’t a gift, a talent Byakuran was born with or woke up with one day. It’s an ability he’s worked hard for, one he trains and hones daily, even now that Byakuran has reached a point where he can’t turn it off, can’t stop seeing the patterns, can’t play at ignorance about what the world screams at him. Just the way Byakuran likes it. He prefers too loud over too quiet, always has.

Byakuran shares that particular trait with a lot of other lab kids and it’s not the only one. Like the majority of the thousands of super kids that are legally or illegally created in laboratories all over the world every year, Byakuran spends his early childhood years locked away in an isolated room with little to no human contact. Like most lab kids, he understands on some level that he is human — better than most of them, probably, because hello, unparalleled genius here — but doesn’t live among them. Always on the outside, looking in. 

[Mimicking what comes natural to civilian children everywhere. Never completely silencing the sliver of doubt that you’re faking, that you’re acting out a play you never connected with on an emotional level and that terrible, terrible question that never lets go of you entirely: What if there’s some things you just can’t recreate in a lab? What if there’s something human you’re lacking?]

It all starts as part of Byakuran’s education. The fact that he’s severely limited in his social interactions means that his teachers put a lot of effort into teaching him human behavior from afar. Byakuran learns basic psychology, watches age-appropriate media, learns to tell the differences between family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances and strangers through books and lectures and a lot of videos. He learns how humans function, how they interact, what type of behavior is considered widely appropriate and what isn’t — comedies are invaluable for that — and how social rules differ among cultures and varying backgrounds, learns how to interpret facial expressions and gestures and how to copy them.

And because Byakuran is a genius, he starts seeing patterns in all of it. And because the patterns follow clear rules, obey a logic all of their own, make sense of human behaviors in a way observations alone don’t, he starts to focus on them. Identifying patterns helps Byakuran predict how a conversation goes, helps him foresee how people move and act in a way his lessons don’t and he wants that understanding. He needs it.

[He’s so very bored.]

With endless free time on his hands and the added incentive of better understanding humanity, Byakuran dives into those patterns head first. He progresses in leaps and bounds, expands and expands, goes beyond biology, neurology and psychology into physics and mathematics and sees them everywhere.

[Byakuran lives in a world of his own making, an eternal outsider to life bustling a few hundred kilometers away from the estate he’s trapped in, and so it takes him years, almost a full decade to realize how far he’s gone, how far he’s removed himself from everyone else. If they ever were on the same plane to begin with. When Byakuran is twelve and his teachers have run out of things to teach him, he learns that other people don’t see the patterns the way he does, don’t hear the world the way he does, but it’s not until Byakuran is fifteen and steps outside for the first time in his life, partakes in the real world that he really gets it.

Seeing the patterns doesn’t make it easier to move with them, follow them, be a part of them. If anything it makes it harder. Like Byakuran’s peaked behind the curtains of the universe and by doing so has lost his ability to plead ignorance. And it wouldn’t be a problem, not really, because Byakuran has never had any interest in ignorance anyway. 

Except that humans feel it. Byakuran doesn’t know how or why, doesn’t know what’s missing when he follows every line in the script to the letter, but somehow, instinctively the people around him know that he’s cheating. That he’s different. That he’s not moving to the same rhythm as they do. And every time Byakuran gets distracted by a shiny new pattern, every time he loses focus for a second, he stops following along and that alone is enough to disrupt the patterns that never settle right around his shoulders.

So he stops trying. Eventually. Fitting in doesn’t suit him and following along the same patterns everyone else sticks to gets boring fast anyway. Being disruptive on the other hand, whether by accident or by design? That turns out to be fun.

Besides. Disrupting patterns to create some excitement is its own kind of pattern, isn’t it?]

[drjohnweston]

Series 5 Extra Scene: Rook’s Revenge

Alistair: What the Hell’s going on? It’s chaos out there! This is your mob isn’t it, your types and monsters.

Rook: I’m sure Special Branch will...

Alistair: Special Branch are completely out of their depth so it’s up to you to put the shit back into the horse.

Rook: But I’m just a member of the public.

Alistair: Yes and the army are on the brink of declaring Martial Law so do as I say or I’ll have you shot for... looting or something. Open the Archive re-enlist your Men in Grey whatever it takes.

Rook: Go to Hell.

Alistair: No, wait, Dominic, let’s not be hasty. ...Do you want me to beg? Is that what you want?

Rook: Couldn’t hurt.

Alistair: Dominic. Save us. Please.

Rook: I’ll need the car.

Alistair: This car?

Rook: To get back to The Archive? I could wait for a bus, if you’d prefer.

(Alistair gets out of the car)

Alistair: Well played.

Rook: Drive.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EziZD0P1W4o

[starrynighttime]

Party Crasher Additional Scene (Miraculous Ladybug)

“Pound it!”

King Monkey’s headdress starts beeping and he touches it, confused. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means you’re about to transform back.” Ladybug says, smiling knowingly. “How’d you get the miraculous anyway?” King monkey shrugs. 

“It was just in a box I found on the ground.” Ladybug is about to say something else when her earrings start beeping. 

“Okay, you all know the drill.” She says, holding out her hand. Viperion, Pegasus, and Carapace nod. 

“Scales rest!” 

“Dismount!” 

“Shell off!” Luka, Max, and Nino all hand Ladybug their miraculouses. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” King Monkey asks, confused.

“It’s too dangerous having this many miraculouses in circulation. When the fight is over, you must return the miraculous to me.” Ladybug explains. King Monkey pouts. 

“Aww, man. I kinda liked having powers.” Cat Noir puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, dude. When Ladybug needs you again, she’ll bring it back.” King Monkey brightens up a bit. 

“Oh, okay! Curtain call!” he says, detransforming. Kim takes off the miraculous and hands it to Ladybug, who smiles. 

“I’ll see you again soon. Bug out!” 

[mycovenmagazine]

Bruises At Night, Pancakes In The Morning now on AO3

Episode coda for 9x15

In my version of 9x15 Danny is with the team while Rachel and Charlie stay in his house overnight. Timeframe: the night after "El Diablo" is finally put behind bars. Danny takes care of Steve who's dealing with the aftermath of the brutal fight in the office which doesn't keep him from asking his friend about the current status of his relationship with Rachel...

Steve’s eyes were closed, and his long lashes bore some distraction for Danny but only for a heartbeat. He gently shook him. “Hey, Steve. You okay? You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the hospital?”