#aen asshole

[alifelongpassed]

The Autumn storms are picking up.

[wilderhyperfoxations]

⚜⚘ A B O U T ⚘⚜

⚜Welcome to my messy blog! ⚜My name is Fox Pearl Wilder. He/him. ⚜Main blog (replies, likes from it)- @foxpearlwilder. @foxpearlwilder2 personal/goblincore. @vaporpearl vaporwave. ⚜ Ukrainian, disabled, intersex, artist writer. ⚜A billion years old. ⚜Languages- English, Ukrainian. ⚜This blog is for reblogging fandom/interest-related posts, posting fandom/wip art, shitposting.

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🌧Little Pets Shop (G1-G4 merch) 🌧Monster high (Merch, show, movies) 🌧My Little Pony (G1-G4 Merch, G4 show, G5 show.)

🌧️ Kamisama Kiss

🌧️The Ancient Magus' Bride

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🌧️ Howl's Moving Castle (Books & Movie) 🌧Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (movie & books)  🌧Venom (Comics & movies) 🌧Spiderman 2099 (comics from 90s) 🌧"Cryptids" (Mothman.; Sirenhead) 🌧The Runaways 🌧CORPSE

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🌧Antiques 🌧Restoration/conservation (Jewelry, objects, art, weapons) 🌧Electric Guitars 🌧Synths 🌧Qchord/omnichord 🌧Clowns 🌧Vaporwave 🌧Grunge (in the 90s sense, not tumblr 2010s soft grunge) 🌧17/18th century (British) puritans 🌧Furry-ism 🌧Taxidermy/Bones 🌧Biology 🌧Botany 🌧Geology 🌧Entomology 🌧Lepidoptera 🌧Mycology 🌧Amphibians 🌧Anura 🌧Sculpture 🌧Art 🌧Poetry 🌧Animation 🌧Fictional writing 🌧Folklore 🌧Mythology 🌧C o l l e c t i n g .

⚜A S K & A L I K E

Feel free to send in asks about my interests, fandoms, my DNI, and alike! Ideas, headcanons, questions. I'll answer. ⚜ DNI: Intersexists, ists or phobes or exclusionists of any kind, proshippers, antis who are really extreme, pedos, right wing bozos, people under 18, radfems/TERFS, super religious blogs or people (don't be fuckin weird abt it yk), zoos, russians or ppl who support russia in any way, communists, nazis, pro ana or thinspo blogs, NFT bros, hella nsfw blogs, people who like incest, you get the idea, if you're a fuckin asshole fuck off, I'm the only asshole allowed to be here. I doubt any of those fuckers would even be here but yeah. If you're one of those block my ass. Also don't start beef with me or complain or something, I'm here to vibe.  ⚜ This blog is safe for any race or ethnicity or gender identity or whatever. As long as you're not harming anyone we're chill. So welcome to my minuscule corner of the internet, hope you enjoy whatever goes on here. 

⚜TAGS: I try to tag tw's but forget sometimes. I have a set of tags for different things. Some are custom, some basic. I tag fandom stuff with the shortened ver of the name, unless it's one word, or a character's name. Toh- the owl house, at- adventure time, tawog- the amazing world of gumball, etc. ⚜Others: classic leg pulling - shitposts original post - a post created by me reblog -a post reblogged from someone else's blog shenanagans - stuff that happens to me rainbow skeletons in my closet - queer stuff the earthly horrors - mental, asd stuff wooden legs and shodden pecs - disability/chro illness stuff safe for work fingering - guitar stuff art- art. my art - self explanatory worms in my head- fandom stuff dream beam - my dreams *Not all are in full use. Sometimes I tag things after posting/reblogging. ⚜*Accessibility, Image Descriptions, Video Descriptions, Captions are included in my posts. I try to make my posts clear. Reblogged posts might not have those included. If I forget to add an ID or VD or CC, comment and I'll fix. If you don't understand something, please ask, I will explain! :]

[ao3feed-witcher-dddne]

by AverageDettlaffEnjoyer

Reader is a slave on Tir ná Lia. Eredin and the boys sometimes need to unwind. That’s it, that’s the plot. It’s a one shot with Eredin but I might add some more stuff with the other Red Riders.

Words: 4406, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M

Characters: Eredin Bréacc Glas, Imlerith (The Witcher), Caranthir Ar-Feiniel, The Wild Hunt (The Witcher)

Relationships: Eredin Bréacc Glas/Original Female Character(s), Eredin Bréacc Glas/Reader, Caranthir Ar-Feiniel/Reader

Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Master/Slave, Aen Elle (The Witcher), Red Riders, Non-Consensual Bondage, Bondage, Face Slapping, Degradation, Anti-Human Racism, Elf/Human Relationship(s), I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I learned the elder speech for this, Eredin is an asshole, Rape, Threats of Violence, Murder-Suicide, i repeat DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Implied Necrophilia, Torture, Bones Breaking, Suicidal Thoughts

[advena87]

Adventures of Fox and Swallow (with guest appearance of Wolf)

.

Ciri: Why are you helping me?

Avallac’h: Because my life right now is a mess, and I compulsively take care of you when I don't know how to take care of myself.

Ciri: Um…

Avallac’h: Did I say it out loud?

***

Ciri: Ok, so when have I done anything stupid or immature?

Avallac’h: I keep a list, it's alphabetized. Do you want to see?

Ciri: ... no

***

Ciri: If you don’t stop lecturing me, I’m going to jump out of that window.

Avallac’h: We're on the ground floor.

Ciri: I know but I want a dramatic exit.

***

Geralt: Guess what I’m about to get!

Avallac’h: On my nerves?

***

Avallac’h: Zireael, I need to talk to you about something important.

Ciri: That laboratory was already on fire when I got there.

Avallac’h: What?

Ciri: What?

***

Ciri: Avallac’h, you are here! How did you find me?

Avallac’h: Oh, I saw smoke and huge stream of fire and wondered: now, who could that be?

***

Ciri: Geralt, how long does it take until you start hallucinating from sleep deprivation?

Geralt: I think-

Avallac’h: 72 hours.

Ciri: How do you kn-

Avallac’h: There's a clown behind you.

***

Ciri: Truth or dare?

Avallac’h: Truth.

Ciri: How many hours have you slept this week?

Avallac’h: …

Avallac’h: Dare.

Ciri: Go to sleep.

Avallac’h: I don't like this game.

***

Ciri: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Geralt: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Ciri: Not when you’re playing with Avallac’h. He puts words like “ephemeral”. And I put “dog”.

***

Geralt: Ciri is missing. Can you find her?

Avallac’h: Do you think I have her microchipped, or something?

Geralt: Well, do you?

Avallac’h: Yeah, hang on…

***

Ciri: Are you ok?

Avallac’h: I'm just dealing with the usual level of incompetence around here, that's all.

***

Ciri: You're a smart, so you must know-

Avallac’h: Smart? I'd have to lose 60 IQ points to be classified as smart.

***

Ciri: How you hate to be wrong.

Avallac’h: I wouldn't know, I'm not familiar with the sensation.

***

Ciri: *does something stupid and gets hurt*

*meanwhile at the other end of Skellige ...*

Geralt: What's wrong?

Avallac’h: My stupidity senses are tingling...

***

Ciri: *comes home at 3am*

Avallac’h, sitting in the dark: Where were you?

Ciri: With Geralt.

Geralt, sitting next to Avallac’h in the dark: Wanna try again?

***

Avallac’h: Why are you doing dumb shit?

Ciri: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Avallac’h: Wasn’t Geralt with you?

Geralt: In my defence, I was left unsupervised too.

***

Ciri: I can't believe you have laboratory nearby and won't let anyone crash at your place.

Avallac’h: You people already know too much about me.

Geralt: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won't let anyone crash at your place.

***

Gerlat: Why do you keep calling Avallac’h handsome?

Ciri: Because those cheekbones don't lie, and neither do I.

***

Ciri: what the fuck is this?!

Avallac’h: LANGUAGE

Ciri: Sorry

Ciri: What the sexual intercourse is this?

Avallac’h:

Avallac’h: What the fuck, Zireael?

***

Ciri: You know, there’s something weird going on with your face.

Avallac’h: What?

Ciri: You’re smiling. I didn’t know you could do that.

Geralt: It's disturbing. Stop it now.

.

[erinbeast]

A breeze blew through the room, a balcony overlooked the garden where Auberon wandered. The room itself was open to the outside, pillows and cushions lined one wall. Eredin sat in cushioned chair slouched down with his legs crossed. He hummed a mindless tune as he flipped the page in his book, a heavy tome containing myths of gorgons, cyclops, and a lot of problems caused by one god who never thought with the head on his shoulders. Further in the room Imlerith sat on a couch, hunched over examining the chessboard in front of him before moving his bishop. Caranthir lounged in a chaise watching Imlerith think and make his move. His king was in trouble now, Caranthir scowled while trying to formulate retaliation. Right as he went to move his queen a kestrel swooped down from his nest on top of one the pillars in the room and swiped Imlerith’s knight that had previously trapped Caranthir’s king. Caranthir’s smirk was insufferable, Eredin had taught him well Imlerith harrumphed. “Well, it looks like…” The kestrel dived down and dropped the absconded knight down on the board like a bomb. Two or Caranthir’s pawn and his Queen went scattering off the board and on the floor, Imlerith’s side was left untouched. The kestrel landed on the floor next to Eredin’s feet where the knight bomb landed and started pecking at it, flinging it, chasing it, having great fun. Imlerith could only chuckle, “Such is war, natural disasters can ruin your entire strategy. Sometimes it’s a monsoon, a blizaard, and sometimes it’s a giant bird taking a horse and bombing the other side with it.” Caranthir snickered then found his move. “Check.” That smirk was absolutely insufferable, Imlerith sighed and glanced to the very elf who had taught Caranthir that smugness and could only roll his eyes. Eredin had that same smirk on his face as he pet the trouble making kestrel with one hand while the other twirled the knight.

[robotslenderman]

[x]

[bomberqueen17]

hmm trying to fold in S2

so i have the problem that during the S1-S2 hiatus of the Witcher, the world ended and I lost my mind and I wrote a whole pile of gameverse fic. The games being set after the ends of the books, and the Netflix series being an adaptation of the books, that necessarily means that all that stuff is set after the events of the Netflix series too.

Now that S2 is out, I’ve been poking it a bit, but-- I was going by the books for the rest of the events, and they have made some significant changes. Some of the characters we now love after S2, in varying ways, are significantly different from their book selves, and it presents a challenge to me, of how to go on.

Lambert, for example: I’ve written a lot of him now, and he’s pretty gameverse. Some of his scenes work fine if you imagine his showverse self, but-- the show Lambert is much less sharp and more of the “galoot” style of asshole than the extremely sarcastic game version, though you can see how they’re related. I like to imagine some of my scenes as showverse Lambert, if I reread a little, but most of them don’t work.

But other characters-- see, I’ve leaned heavily on the book-canon treatment of the Aen Seidhe, and so I have staked rather a lot on the Vrihedd Brigade, and on Francesca Findabair and Dol Blathanna as described in the books. Book!Francesca is a great deal more cold in her calculations, a great deal less emotional, and the ways in which she’s revealed to be a monster are infinitely more haunting and less violent. It’s quite subtle, and I’ve got her set up to be that kind of monster in my works, going forward.

It’s going to be weird, though, because of course what they did with her in S2 was so interesting, but I simply can’t shoehorn it in, partly because I already have a *different* character set up to do the Miracle Baby thing, and to attempt to have gone back and shoehorned in any of S2′s events would change the tenor of it rather horribly. So I’m going to have to stick with Bookverse Francesca, alas.

Fringilla, however. I had been holding off on using her as a character at all, because she’s so marginal to the games and I wasn’t sure where she’d fit. But probably I can get away with making her be friends with Francesca, and seeking refuge with her.

It just means I’m going to have to sort of cobble up my own adaptation, here, because I’m sort of backed into a corner by not having realized how much they’d change for the S2 adaptation. But it means i have to pay more attention to these characters, who I’d just planned to make shallow Ambiguous Villain types. I’m delighted to adapt Fringilla’s Netflix appearance, and also am utterly thrilled to discard her frankly boring and gross bookverse plot (I get that Sapko was writing satire but ugh); Francesca is going to need a little bit of thought before I know what to do with her, exactly.

[woodlandelk]

Ciri and Eredin

Did I actually share the little fic about Ciri and Eredin after the Battle of Kaer Morhen I wrote for @elisacoyote ?? ^^

Follow the white rabbit link:

https://yrdenne.deviantart.com/art/Art-trade-Cirilla-and-Eredin-After-the-battle-676634362

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Ohh, you opened your prompts, what a treat! I love all of your Aiden/Lambert fics, funny or bittersweet, but especially the funny ones. So can I ask for some Aiden/Lambert "babysitting" teenage Ciri in canon verse, please? I leave the rating and everything else to you :p

A/N: Ciri spends some time with her favourite uncle and his half Aen Seidhe boyfriend, Aiden. Warnings: uh, a little bit of suggestive knife twiddling? But it all stays very tame; there are innocent eyes around, after all! Aiden’s not a monster.

“Deep breath, sor’ca,” Aiden said, nudging Ciri’s rear foot to broaden her stance. “You’re holding it again. You won’t hit anything if you pass out.” 

Ciri growled and dropped the arrow down. They had been working on archery for little over an hour but already she was craving a return to the backflips and pirouettes of morning footwork drills. It was a close summer afternoon, with a shimmer on the parched horizon. It was the kind of heat that one could smell in the sluggish water of the river and the wilting green of struggling plants. Only the light breeze that rustled through the leaves of the ash and beech trees took the edge off, whisking the beads of sweat from Ciri’s brow and cooling beneath her arms when she lifted the bow.

Lambert lounged not three metres away. Sprawled amongst the twisted roots of a downy birch tree, he picked idly at his fingernails with the blunted edge of a throwing knife as he watched Aiden instruct his niece on the fine and, if someone ever bothered to ask Lambert’s opinion, pointless art of archery.

Ciri drew the arrow back to her ear, took a breath and released the nock in the space of three seconds. The fine white fletching, crafted by Aiden’s very own hand, whistled into the distance. She’d missed the target by less than half a foot. “Gods dammit,” she scowled, gnawing on her inner cheek. “I did everything right.”

“You’re still holding on too tightly, staring at the target as if you can glare the arrow through it.” Aiden took the bow from her bone-white fingers to illustrate his point. She huffed indignantly but released her captive and watched as Aiden plucked an arrow from the soil by her feet. “Any hack can wield a sword and do damage without training, but a bow demands more respect. Observe.”

Lambert huffed a laugh as he uncurled to his feet, moving to stand next to Ciri to get a better vantage point from which to observe the lesson. 

Aiden continued, unperturbed by the insolent smirk on Lambert’s face as he imitated Aiden’s tart ‘observe’ with a splayed hand on his chest. “Your bow hand should have as little contact as possible, barely there, just a steadying presence,” Aiden spread his feet as he notched the arrow, drawing back to his eye, “then, relax your shoulders, focus on your breathing. You’ll loose on the outward breath, but don’t rush it. Count to five; one, two…”

Lambert exchanged a glance with Ciri. She pressed her lips together to quash her smirk and his eyes crinkling in the corners as his inner mischief took over. Flipping his knife over in one gloved hand, Lambert strolled behind Aiden – “three, four” – and leaned in to gasp a breathy whisper over the curve of one elegantly pointed ear. “Five.” 

The bowstring twanged and the arrow disappeared into the canopy. Lambert guffawed, delighted at the result of his most sultry purr, and Aiden glared. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, I may be an asshole,” Lambert tilted his head, gaze travelling to the target, “but by the time she’s gone through your twenty-point checklist, she’ll be dead. Now a knife,” he waggled the blade in his hand, finger and thumb at the edge, “is quicker, cheaper and,” Lambert twisted, arm uncoiling like a coiled snake, and the knife hit the target with an audible ‘thunk’, “deadlier.” 

Ciri folded her arms and grinned, regarding the dagger embedded in the rotting bark of their target with an appraising eye. She had been won over by the simple inelegance of it. Aiden sighed, placing his bow down with a defeated air. “Dh’oine, always looking for the easy way out.”

“Efficient,” Lambert corrected, jutting his chin as Aiden stepped up to him. “Easy ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.” 

“Now, you say that,” Aiden moved with the swift athleticism for which his school was infamous and grabbed Lambert’s arm. His shoulder shoved into Lambert’s chest to throw him off balance and then, with one deft twist, Aiden lifted the wolf from the ground and over his back. Lambert had no time to react as his world turned upside down and then righted abruptly when his back hit the floor. Aiden flipped him over, twisting one arm up his back, and then primed a knife to his throat, “but most people who use knives are terribly inefficient.” 

Ciri placed her hands on her hips and smirked down at her uncle as he grimaced and scowled. “Dunno, Aiden,” she said. “He looks pretty done for.” 

“Just proved my point,” Lambert wheezed, arching away from the sharp edge that teased the line of his beard. “Slit my throat and I’m dead.” 

“People can survive a slit throat, sor’ca. Witcher I know has a second smile, from ear to ear. Can’t talk, but still plenty capable of cutting you to pieces,” Aiden said, releasing Lambert’s arm so that he could bury his fingers in ruffled brown hair and make him arch back just a little further. “Do you know how much strength it takes to cut deep enough? And what if your knife is a little blunt? Your target isn’t going to sit and wait for you to slice him up like stringy venison at the dinner table.” As Aiden spoke, he teased the edge of the blade against Lambert’s skin, listening to the wolf’s breath hitch as it nicked over the ball of his throat. Gloved fingers gripped at tufts of dry grass in search of purchase and Aiden heard the steel toes of Lambert’s boots scuff in the dirt behind him. 

“So, a knife’s actually worthless then, unless I can get a good run up?” She pouted, her brow furrowed. 

“Hm,” Aiden’s grip tightened in Lambert’s hair, “not quite.” Aiden drew back long enough to flip Lambert onto his back again. The wolf didn’t even try to fight to his feet and laid perfectly still as Aiden straddled his chest, knife spinning through his fingers. Ciri couldn’t smell what Aiden could. The mushroom broths made her stronger, faster, but they didn’t give her the sharper senses of a witcher. Lucky for Lambert, really; Aiden would keep his filthy little secret.

When the edge rasped through his red and grey speckled beard again, Lambert swallowed audibly, tilting his head back into the dirt so that Aiden could see the full curve of his throat. “You can cut below the ear, beneath the curve of the jaw,” Aiden murmured, watching as Lambert’s pupils swallowed his entire iris, leaving just a thin ring of sunstone yellow. “But a witcher worth his salt would have a vial of Swallow to hand. A human can fight you off, stay conscious just long enough to get help. There’s only one way to ensure a quick, clean kill.”

“How?” Ciri insisted, watching Lambert with wide eyes. 

“Place the knife here.” Aiden placed the tip of the blade at the hollow between Lambert’s clavicles, where his windpipe was exposed and vulnerable. The edge grazed Lambert’s skin, drawing a thin, white line of prickled skin, but no blood. Aiden’s control was absolute. Lambert swallowed again, the ripple of his throat pressing lightly against the point. “Tilt it up, just so, and then,” Aiden lifted his palm and drove it down with intent and blinding speed, but the heel of his hand stopped at the hilt before it connected. Ciri gasped, but Lambert stared at Aiden in mystified silence, his breath held. Aiden leaned in close, almost nose to nose, and whispered. “You force it through to the spine. Victim chokes on their own blood in seconds.” 

“Caen me a'baethe?” Lambert whispered hoarsely, offering a cocky, lopsided smirk that invited teeth and fire. Aiden’s lips parted, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth as he fought to resist. There were young eyes present, after all. 

“Wait,” Ciri squinted at them and then stuck her tongue out in the exaggerated disgust only a young teenaged girl could manage. “Oh, ew, is this––are you flirting?”

Aiden sat up quickly, his cheeks flushing a vibrant claret. “No, teaching. This is––I was giving instruction––oof.” The Cat flailed as he was shoved in the chest and thrown to the side. Lambert rolled to his feet next, keeping his back angled towards Ciri as he hobbled awkwardly towards the treeline. Aiden huffed. “Where’re you going?”

“To make an offering to Freya,” Lambert called airily and disappeared completely into the trees. Aiden smirked at his retreating back before falling onto his own, hands tucked behind his head. The leafy canopies above swayed, casting dappled shadows over Aiden’s serene expression.

“They don’t worship Freya here,” Ciri mumbled. “It’s Melitele.” 

“Melitele won’t want anything to do with the offering Lambert has in mind,” Aiden teased, pinching her bicep playfully. She kicked him lightly in the thigh and then flopped inelegantly to bask in the sun with him, her head on his stomach. 

“Men are gross.”

“That they are, sor’ca, that they are.”

sor’ca = little sister

Caen me a'baethe? = give me a kiss

Freya is the Goddess of fertility, love and beauty; I’ll leave you to work out what kind of offering Lambert was going to make. 

Aiden is Aen Seidhe (or at least half). Inspired by the fact that the School of the Cat worked closely with the Aen Seidhe after they abandoned Stygga, swelling their ranks with strays, orphans and unwanted “halfbreeds”. 

Cool graphic sourced here.

[thewoodshungers-if]

Aen’frie - The Sting of Iron

500 Followers Special - Hurt/Comfort, Angst

For someone who literally lived in the woods, Aen’frie was not someone who goes out often. At least, not out of the woods itself. The city are full of iron and knights and those two combinations together never results in something good for Aen. 

The one time they did though, they thought they’ve hit gold. Some idiotic and obscenely rich noble ate up all of their taunts, and they had won a bet between them, effectively robbing the poor man of his riches. That guy’s gold are rightfully theirs then, right? So why is it that they’re curled up in a jail cell in the middle of the fucking capital?

Aen didn’t know the name of the knight in charge of them (a shame, but they’ll work on getting it), but the knight was insulted often. Bastard. Hybrid. Watered-down noble. The Alloyed Knight never said anything, eyes cold but burning with embers of spite and maybe.. loneliness. 

The best kind of person, just the right flavor that Aen likes. 

Everyday, the knight would stand in front of their cell, back facing them. Aen did not pull their punches. They would smile and then the smile would turn into a smirk, and then the smirk would turn into a taunt. Then a promise of whispered sweet-nothings, that they would take it all away, that Aen could silence them all. 

Most times, The Alloyed Knight would just stand there unmoving, as if they didn’t hear anything. A paragon of justice and virtue who would stand like a guard dog even when their peers would drink and play cards at the end of the hallway. 

Aen has been thrown into human jail thrice including this little trip into the no-magic dungeons in the capital. Their first warden cursed and spat at them with no inhibition, their second warden completely terrified of them, harmless fae. They slipped their name out of their lips with no problem. Their warden this time, however, was somebody they couldn’t read. 

The knight ignored them all day long before setting down their dinner gently in front of them. Aen didn’t miss the way there’s somehow extra servings of bread and even jam sneaked into their tray of prison food. Nevertheless, the knight gazed at them with a cold glare before turning away to ignore them again. 

But today, their shoulders tensed the moment Aen leaned closer to whisper at their ear, careful not to touch the iron bars. They’re getting closer, the knight’s name is within arm’s reach, and they could feel it. So they inched closer, “Aren’t you sick of those assholes? I have a hundred ways I could silence them”

They stopped, letting their voice drop to a husky whisper, “Or.. I can distract you from-”

The Alloyed Knight turned to face them, eyes downcast and red, and just like that, Aen’s confidence plunged into the cold waters. The knight slowly looked up, eyes the widest they’ve ever seen, searching for something in theirs, “Can you?” 

Yes, anything you wish for, all I need is your full name. 

“Can I what?” 

What is wrong with his tongue? Why did they say that? They just need to push the knight a bit more. 

Aen half-thought the knight was laughing at his question.. because.. Well, their shoulders are shaking, and they had just said something stupid. What else would that mean? But tears slid down their cheeks as they let out a quiet sniff, arms and fingers tensing against the bars of their cell. 

Their heart stopped. 

They’re intent on getting the knight’s name, and this is the right time. Just a little push, just one more false smile and the knight’s name will be theirs. So why. Why?

Instead of feeding them lies and promises, they couldn’t say anything, voice dying in their throat at the sight of the knight’s quiet tears. The knight grits their teeth, jaw tensing as they roughly wiped at the tears sliding down their cheek. Their pride stands in the way, keeping them from revealing all their pain to the inmate they’re in charge of, but the floodgate has already burst open. 

Instead of pulling them closer to whisper false dreams at them, Aen reached out, hands slipping between the bars of their cell, fuck the risk of touching iron, and wiped at their tears with their thumb. 

Their arms stung with the sting of iron, it burned, eating at the strip of their exposed skin, but they didn’t draw their hand back. The knight’s cheeks were warm under their touch, their hand immediately taking Aen’s into their grasp, clinging for assurance. 

The knight’s nails dug into Aen’s hands, but they didn’t draw their hand back. Not when the knight’s breath hitched before they let out a shaky sigh, jaw tensing and yet they didn’t pull away from Aen’s touch. 

They’re close, the knight’s name were within their grasp, but no words come spilling out of their mouth. 

The fee Aen slipped from the knight wasn’t their name this time. It’s that extra serving of bread and jam. They’ve always been naive and stupid for a fae, they’re sure anyone who learnt of this would never let them live this down. 

Aen ignored the sting of iron, this is nothing for them. The warmth of the knight’s hands didn’t go unnoticed. Aen’s hands were now damp with their tears, and yet their hands felt feverish even compared to the sting of iron on their arm. They pulled away as quickly as they showed their tears, leaving to get them their dinner with an extra serving a of jam.

They noticed the way the knight wouldn’t look at them in the eye, the way their voice was tinged with a warning to never address what had just happened before. 

The knight didn’t show up the next day. They’ve laid the broken pieces of their heart before Aen, warm hands gripping their hand like a lifeline, and they ran off just like that, took out a week-long leave. In their place was another knight. 

She’s the Alloyed Knight’s junior, heart pinned on their sleeve with a facade made of glass. A promise of coins once Aen can use magic outside the palace was enough to make her turn to them. 

Aen would’ve liked to wait for that Alloyed Knight. They won’t be able to run from their duties forever, after all. But their execution was in three days. And they wouldn’t know what to do if the knight had gone back to ignoring them, had pretended that nothing has happened. 

Why does it matter anyways? 

That knight was just a plaything that slipped between their fingers. 

Maybe next time, they’ll have the resolve to slip their name from their grasp. To weave their name together with their magic. To keep their unsaid promises. If that knight would even stop avoiding them, that is. 

Aen’frie was not someone who took pity on others. They’re merely intrigued of what that knight has hidden beneath their aloof face and cold stare. Of how their facade would crack if they smiled. Merely intrigued on what would happened if they gained their victory. 

They do not take pity on other. Never.

Right?

[alifelongpassed]

On his way to buy some lembas

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Fighting and makeup hcs with Eddie Kingston please? 💙 I just need some angst in my life 😂

Thanks so much!

🤣 I love a good dose of angst as well, babe lol. You’re welcome 😘

@alyhull , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @aen-maggs

Lord help you

It has yet to be found a human being who loves a fight as much as he does

And Lord help him

Because you love a fight as well

“What the fuck do you wanted me to do, Y/N?”

“Maybe not acted like an asshole would be nice!”

“And am I supposed to just stand there and watch?”

“We both know he did nothing wrong!” You tossed your purse on the floor

“Still doesn’t answer my fucking question!” He grabbed your arm so he could turn you around to face him “Do you want me to drive you back there? So you can relive your golden moments from the past with your sweet David?” His voice sounded so bitter

“Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie” You rolled your eyes in annoyance

“Don’t you want that? To go back to your blonde Prince Charming who plays violin and speaks three thousand fucking languages?”

“Eddie” You warn him

“What? What is it? Suddenly the street mutt that always fucked you so good on the back alley of Prince Charming’s house is not what you want anymore?”

“We should stop-“

“Princess wants to go back to her royalty, is that it? Had enough of having fun with the bad boy already, Y/N?”

“You’re starting to piss me off” You snarled

“Don’t hold it back, princess! C’mon, say it!” He teased

“You’re so fucking childish, Eddie” You chuckled bitterly “So fucking ridiculous with your petty attitude, always bickering like a dumb little bitch!” You closed the distance between you, looking up to stare at him in the eyes “Make no mistake, bad boy. If I wanted David, I would have never, ever came back home with you! I would have simply walked out of that movie theater with him and trust me when I say there wasn’t a damn thing you could have done about it!” You spat and he kissed you

Deeply, passionately, until you both were out of breath

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I love you so fucking much, fox” He placed you on top of the kitchen island

“I love you too, pit bull” You tugged on his chain, pulling him down on top of you

[actuallyvady]

Guess what time it is!

Time for me to babble about an obscure, definitely not on the side of the good guys, probably not interesting to anyone else, character!

Meet Ge’els:

... a little background. The bad guys in this game are elves. Aen Elle, to be specific. Are all of them evil? Probably not. Are we supposed to love them the way I do? Definitely not. But! The Wild Hunt, from which this game in the series takes its name, are Aen Elle. And they are led by the king of the Aen Elle, Eredin. Your primary antagonist. 

But Eredin is a warrior. He doesn’t like the fussy administrative bits of being king. So he has Ge’els. Viceroy Ge’els basically runs the kingdom while Eredin is off playing hero. Villain. Whatever. Ge’els does the boring stuff so Eredin can keep having fun with the Wild Hunt. Why Ge’els? Well...

“Ge’els is an excellent administrator and an even better plotter. He’s the most dangerous individual amongst the Aen Elle.”

You have Eredin, your primary antagonist, who people in your world literally regard as a herald of the apocalypse, and Ge’els is more dangerous? Well, yeah. Because he’s got the power of the throne and the brains to use it. And what does Avallac’h think his weakness is? 

“He’s righteous.”

Ge’els is not just a scheming, Machiavellian type politician. He has principles. That makes him more dangerous, really-- it’s only a weakness because Avallac’h uses it to get him on our side. 

So, Ge’els:

Ge’els does several things when you arrive that amuse me. He doesn’t bat an eye at your appearing here in his palace. Like oh, look. That traitor Avallac’h is here, and he brought a thug. Does he look startled? No. He calmly dismisses the naked girl he was using as a model... which brings me to the second thing he does: tries to get under Avallac’h’s skin. 

Avallac’h is well known to have a particular emotional weakness-- Lara Dorren. Long story. Ge’els is not so stupid as to insult her directly, but he does remark on his model resembling her. It’s a calculated, careful remark; casually delivered, but absolutely intended to provoke Avallac’h. Avallac’h’s dismissive reply does not sound perturbed, but Ge’els comments about having touched a nerve anyway. 

The whole exchange means nothing to Geralt, of course, but to Avallac’h, Ge’els just said I know you. I know your weaknesses, I know what matters to you and I am not fooled. It’s delightful. 

“Ah, I see I’ve touched a tender spot. So let’s change the subject, shall we? Care for a drink?”

(It amuses me that Geralt has an option to ask for vodka, which prompts Ge’els to give this disgusted little head shake. It’s kind of adorable.)

The third thing he does is very pointedly not summon guards. We see him glance at them. There are plenty of reasons to do so-- not only is Geralt the sort of person who is very likely to do violence (and acting particularly hostile already), but Avallac’h is most certainly a traitor. Why would Ge’els not want him brought to justice? 

Ge’els is intrigued, curious to see how this will play out. And he is utterly confident that he’s perfectly safe. He does not believe for one moment that Avallac’h will harm him. He also does not believe that anything Avallac’h can say will sway him-- he is dismissive of the idea, but goes along with them anyway, because why wouldn’t he? He is in the right. Avallac’h is not. 

Besides, he might do some good, here. Like half the other characters in the game, he takes a moment to try to sew mistrust of Avallac’h:

“Incidentally, interesting choice of allies. Do you think Avallac’h is honest with you? Just curious...”

Rather than call the guards, he’s decided to use his weapons: wit and manipulation. He clearly feels that Avallac’h is dangerous; sunder him from his human allies, and they will pose no threat. (It is unlikely that he feels it goes the other way; most of the Aen Elle are utterly dismissive of humans and he probably doubts they would be able to do much without Avallac’h’s help. So, undermine their trust in him and they won’t be a problem anymore.)

He does the same thing when they arrive and he sees Ciri:

“Avallac’h blackmailed you-- do you not remember? Tried to force you to warm our king’s bed?”

Ciri shuts him down, quickly and confidently. He recognizes that there is nothing to be accomplished that way and changes the subject.

“I didn’t come here to argue. The proof you promised. Where is it?”

Ge’els does not believe that this proof will sway him-- though the fact that Avallac’h has an oneiromancer gives him pause. He takes one more shot at undermining Avallac’h:

“What then? Am I to incite the Aen Elle against Eredin? Call for revolution and proclaim Avallac’h our new king?”

I love this one. He said before that Avallac’h was not being honest with Geralt. He reminded Ciri of Avallac’h’s past actions to undermine him with her. This? This says Avallac’h hasn’t told you what he wants. He says it dismissively-- as if the thought that he would do this is ludicrous-- but the point is to again place doubt in Geralt’s mind. He’s using you for his own ends.

It’s a good thing Avallac’h was right about him; this is a dangerous man to bring to your allies and allow to speak. 

But Avallac’h was right. Ge’els sees that Eredin killed the previous king (Avallac’h’s word choice is very deliberate, he insists that Eredin killed “our king”) and he is disturbed by it. He spends a long while simply thinking on it, and when he does speak, he does not turn around:

“You must face him on your terms, in this world, in a place of your choosing. It’s your only chance.”

No apology, no concession, not even a “you were right.” Ge’els is not a man who wastes words; telling them how to beat Eredin says everything anyway. I feel for him. The revelation of Eredin’s regicide matters deeply to Ge’els. Not only was it wrong-- and if Avallac’h is right and Ge’els is “righteous” then the wrongness of it matters a lot-- but Ge’els was deceived. Pretend for a moment that he doesn’t care one whit for regicide (and it’s possible he doesn’t); this is a man whose mind is his greatest weapon, and it had been compromised. 

Why doesn’t he turn around? Because he doesn’t want to show Avallac’h weakness. He won’t admit he was fooled, he won’t apologize. And he won’t let them see how upset he is. He’s hurt, he feels betrayed, he’s perhaps feeling regret (though that seems unlikely) and most of all, he’s pissed. 

So he does what he does best: he plans. 

“Sail to Skellige and find the Sunstone. With is, you will summon the Naglfar. Eredin will come, too.”

I love that this isn’t a suggestion. “You will” is how he phrases it. He’s right, it’s the best plan, and he knows it. Avallac’h doesn’t argue-- he knows it, too. Ge’els also almost certainly going to go home and make sure that Eredin will answer this summons. 

And then he does turn around, and he says this:

“Should he call for reinforcements, no Aen Elle will answer.”

Does Eredin always call Ge’els, when looking for reinforcements? Not bloody likely. Ge’els is going to go home and destroy Eredin in the eyes of his people. “No Aen Elle will answer.” I will make them hate him so much they wouldn’t lift a finger, let alone a sword. Maybe it’s not the whole population. Maybe he just intends to sew discord in the ranks of the military, or the riders that Eredin doesn’t always take with him. Those who might conceivably be called in as backup. 

Ge’els doesn’t just accept that Avallac’h was right and stop supporting Eredin; he immediately aids his former opponents in bringing Eredin down. 

I love him.

[advena87]

And what about the dynamics between Ciri and Avallac’h?

***

Avallac’h: You need them to think you're stronger than you actually are.

Ciri: Is that what you do?

Avallac’h: Me? Oh, no. My power is no illusion. I can fucking demolish you.

***

Avallac’h: Hello?

Ciri: It’s Ciri.

Avallac’h: What did she do this time?

Ciri: No, it’s me, Ciri.

Avallac’h: Oh, what did you do this time?

***

Ciri: Why didn’t you tell me?

Avallac’h: Because you have the tendency to overreact.

Ciri, stabbing the table with a sword in a fit of anger: I do NOT overreact!

***

Avallac’h: I'm not very good with emotion.

Ciri: What emotion?

Avallac’h: All of them.

***

Ciri: How long has it been since you slept?

Avallac’h: Bold of you to assume I sleep.

***

Ciri: I thought you hated writing letters?

Avallac’h: Don't be silly, I'm a fan of anything that replaces actual human contact.

***

Avallac’h: Do I look like I’m joking?

Ciri: You never look like you’re joking.

***

Ciri: Am I in trouble?

Avallac’h: Have a guess.

Ciri: No?

Avallac’h: Have another guess.

***

Ciri: Avallac’h is an angel that fell from heaven...

Geralt: [whispering] So was Lucifer.

***

Ciri: Can I ask you something? Can you keep a secret?

Avallac’h: Do you know anything about my life?

Ciri: No I don’t. Good point.

***

Avallac’h: I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but turns out I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter.

[a-byronic-heroine]

To anyone who thinks I’m pro-Aen Elle, you obviously haven’t taken any time to read my content. I’m, in fact, very Aen Elle critical. I talk about the damages such xenophobic and restrictive cultural and governmental institutions have on a specific Aen Elle, my oc. She struggles constantly with the toxic, damaging things she’s been taught versus what she has learned since being effectively exiled from her home.

Does it take a long time for her to change? Hell yes. But the fact that she does in fact change is the important thing.

Is she still an asshole sometimes? You betcha. It’s a defense mechanism ingrained into her from childhood. The more ferocious and emotionally distant, the more likely she is to survive.

Don’t like that? Buh-bye.

[robotslenderman]

[x]