#geralt is making some bad decisions

[perseruna]

Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate. 

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks. 

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill. 

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible. 

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one. 

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters. 

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc. 

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it. 

[revoevokukil]

Ciri's Trilogy

Ever since The Witcher 3 was published, concurrently with which I first read A. Sapkowski’s works, I have wanted a trilogy of games about Ciri. Any fanfiction would do, including CDPR’s one. Fanfiction, because I believe Sapkowski wanted to leave Ciri’s future open to the imagination of everyone. It’s part of her charm—she gives hope that anything at all can happen. Hence, in all honesty, I just wanted to continue imagining her story: beyond the end of Lady of the Lake, beyond the end of The Witcher 3. I want to read more about Ciri. Period. Consequently, I am now elated, but also terrified.

I don’t take issue with Ciri, the witcher, I take issue with Ciri having gone through the Trial of the Grasses. I hope CD Projekt Red will change their minds about this, or at very least makes it work differently on Ciri—the Child of Destiny—than on other witchers. For starters because, as Geralt notes in Sword of Destiny, the witchers believe the Child of Destiny would not need the Trials. Ciri is special. She is a mutant carrying the blood of elves, mutated in conjunction with the human genome. Elder Blood, witcher-trained, magic-capable, princess, heir of an Emperor & descendant of another such beyond the stars, prophesised mother to another even more powerful mutant saviour, if not a saviour of elves herself. She is extraordinary; she does what witchers do despite of it all, despite not getting or needing the mutations.

’What can you know about saving the world, silly? You’re but a witcher.’

But now she is just… also one?

The sceptic in me says the only reason they went for Trials for Ciri was to keep it close to how the gameplay holds up. To have a "witcher-eyed", female protagonist upholding their brand. So it could be about potions and signs additionally to what Ciri would have had by default → oils + magic + Elder Blood. I would like for them to give us witcher Ciri, but book-Ciri - a witcher girl setting off after monsters while remaining herself, with her own struggles and unique perspective on the universe. This here feels more like a PR move, and I don’t like it in the grand scheme of things; even while seeing a rough and capable Ciri tickles my heart in a special way. There were other ways to gamify her abilities; they are giving her magic use anyway, after all. It feels a little cheap. In fact, I can see how Elder Blood—Ciri’s uniqueness—is precisely how CDPR can handwave away the Trials, but isn’t the “cosmetic” aspect of it exactly the point? It makes the decision hollow, a ploy, but if you were to give this decision depth then you would run the risk of overstacking your protagonist and forgoing the spirit in which her character was conceived and relates to witchers and the world.[^1]

Moving on. This was the only part that I did not like and, as ever, there are ways of writing yourself out of this. (I dearly hope they have writers who love book Ciri.)

A few years have passed since the end of The Witcher 3 when The Witcher 4 begins. Witcher Ciri wants to be the hero. She has always wanted to do the right thing; she is always picking sides. She is young, she is idealistic, and she is furious. It’s what seems to unite the Ciri in The Witcher 4 with her at the end of The Witcher 3.

"She's almost obsessed with the way she lives. There are some moments where you have to go with your heart instead of always going with the calculated calls. And this is what I love in Ciri. She's less calculating, following her heart, her passion, her gut feel.” - Source

In both the published and draft endings to The Witcher 3, Ciri chooses potentially fatal, self-sacrificial “rituals” for the greater good. She chooses; you, the player, cannot do anything about it. (In the drafts you could, but it turned out to be a bad decision.) In the trailer though, it seems like Ciri is almost running away from herself, or something else, by the way she dives into this life. This intrigues and has storytelling potential - getting what you have always wanted is one of the most dangerous things in the world.

The world and people keep disappointing her, however, and, as the monster used in the trailer not very covertly insinuates: “fate cannot be changed”, "you weren't supposed to come back.” In this sense it almost feels like The Witcher 3 should have been Ciri’s story from the very beginning, because they are revisiting important beats from it and, after only a few years, are likely to handle loose threads. Ciri’s struggle is with having been born to exceptionality, to a destiny larger than life, yet desperately trying to make it smaller for the sake of her soul.

The insinuation made about Ciri’s life through Mioni—the peasant girl offered in sacrifice to a local “God” for the greater good of the community—is not subtle. This is Ciri fighting off the echo of her own story, trying to change such fates in principle. For Mioni, if not for herself. Saving her from being ritually sacrificed—as in prophecies. The monster she faces, by the way, preys on trauma. No subtlety here, whatsoever.

“At first glance, it seems that it is just the flower that is floating on top of the water,” says Kalemba of a cleansing sequence in a bathtub. “But the fun fact is that this is a very Slavic kind of flower. This is a special flower that people in the medieval era were using in special moments to defeat evil. It is very symbolic. Every single frame here is very meaningful.” - Source

But the world and people keep disappointing; Ciri's good deed goes unrewarded, and Mioni dies anyway. Because in principle the Mechanism is set up in a certain way and it is running and it is not easy to grind it to a halt without casualties. How much then is Ciri ready to sacrifice if she is wont to pick a side and fight no matter what? Such questions, I intuit, may become relevant later in her trilogy, but the seeds are sown. Because frankly, in the trailer, Ciri comes off as in The Tower of the Swallow: she has figured out philosophy. It’s a little naive and lacking in experience, seeing the world narrowly, focusing on her truth. It’s very youthful. It’s also—curiously enough—backtracking from the end of The Witcher 3.

What happened in-between The Witcher 3 and The Witcher 4, and, overall, the books and the games? I predict that in Ciri's first solo they may be doing a parallel in the spirit of Lady of the Lake’s ending - Ciri running away from herself/past/failure while attempting to build a new life. It's relatively safe, it's solid. Additionally, in CDPR's original concept for The Witcher 3's "witcher ending," Ciri was meant to experience a profound disillusionment with the witcher's path. After facing the harsh realities of the profession, she would abandon it entirely, choosing instead to traverse the universe in search of ways to atone for running from her destiny—a destiny that demanded she use her extraordinary powers for the greater good of many beings across different realms. It’s possible a double-bottom is hiding in plain sight.

I hope they will explore a truly morally ambiguous Ciri, letting her be messy and problematic rather than simply heroic. I hope they address her past experiences with nuance, not shying away from the ugliness. I hope they let her get drunk in her obsession with the witcher life for a while, break hearts, slowly begin stitching her own back together perhaps. I hope they navigate into the heart of her magic, touch the painful humanity within without forgetting that she has an origin story already, and dare to explore her as Her.

Footnotes

[^1]: I am also sure they go through with the plot where facing the White Frost has locked or seemingly robbed her of her Elder Blood abilities, for better or worse. And since this is going to be a trilogy I will further bet she will get those abilities back as the stakes for her climb higher and higher toward the end game. The other pathway would be that she starts out as having it all, so to speak, and ends up with nothing at all (but we did not see her blink here, I think, so I doubt this); finally "normal." At whatever cost. Narratively in a computer game, for a character who is the Grail, THE person who could do it all, this sort of shuffling makes sense. You can keep the gameplay fresh.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Don't knock it till you try it

Masterlist

Pairing: Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall (technically college AU. I needed to make the road trip scenario plausible.)

Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...

Word count: 9146 (yes, really...)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (vaginal, anal - f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex (vaginal, anal, DP - f receiving), masturbation (f), smug and dirty talking Sy, sex in a tent, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), silly bets, and an astonishingly solid bromance. I think that's all, but call me if I missed any.

A/N: I've finally really stopped hurting the boys and now we're just going for some nice relaxed sex in a goddamn tent, dammit! Also yeah I'm going to keep imagining the boys in college until the day I die, I don't know why (maybe because I'm young), but just... idk, read it as a memory or something? idk :')

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

You were not – by a long shot – the first girl to see the backseat of the beat-up chevy pickup you were sitting in. Fact. A fact so factual, in fact, that Sy hadn’t complained when you demanded he put a blanket down for you to sit on, which told you more than you really wanted to know.

Now, your eyes kept drifting shut to the sound of tires on asphalt and the bickering of soothing baritone voices in the front seat. The outside world consisted of mountain views and clear blue skies, and the fresh breeze of early summer that worked just hard enough to raise goosebumps on skin, but inside this rusty old vehicle the atmosphere was dominated by two pairs of broad shoulders, deep voices, and what you always mockingly referred to as ‘disgusting man sweat’ – always hoping neither of them would ever find out how often you dreamt of licking those salty droplets off their abs after a workout.

Both of them had shown up, first semester, in a class they didn’t have a prayer of passing, and you’d been teamed up with them because of what you then thought to be a hideous trick of fate. Somehow, you whipping them into shape for that tutorial hadn’t put them off you, and what started as whatever the educational equivalent of ‘frenemies’ is, turned into study buddies and eventually friends. The only downside to your friendship was that you chronically had to explain to your entire dorm that, no, you weren’t sleeping with either of them – let alone both of them.

As you still toed the line between asleep and awake, a heavy hand on your knee – belonging to Walter – made a decision for you in favor of consciousness.

“We’re hungry,” he said.

“You’re always hungry,” you grumbled as you reached for the bag of food and snacks on the other side of the backseat. It was a good thing they didn’t bother to deny it, because you would have strangled them both. God forbid you ever left a bag of Doritos out in your dorm. Seconds! Gone!

Sy had the stones to ask for a tuna sandwich. Absolutely the fuck not!

“I’m not opening that bag in this car, Sy.” It already smelled like stale beer and weed in there. Not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’re not allowed to smoke on campus, so this is our only option’ way. That said, adding tuna to the mix would be a complete disaster.

“Suit yourself,” he snapped. You rolled your eyes. For the love of God, it was all of ten minutes past feeding time! Walter snickered as he held out a hand. Turkey on wheat for Walter, BLT for Sy, mozzarella pesto for you. You’d splurged on groceries, because the boys had offered to take the lion’s share of the drive.

“We were thinkin’ of callin’ it a day soon, sugar.” They’d had morning classes, and you were falling asleep while on snack-duty… Plus, you’d agreed to just take it easy the whole drive. It was summer; there was no need to rush home.

Sy pulled off the highway, quickly ending the smooth, rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, until the asphalt finally made way for the crackling of gravel. Without Sy, you never would have found the campsite at which you pulled over. Camping ran through that guy’s veins, as you could tell from the impressive amount of camping gear in the bed of the pickup – all his.

Even though he helped you get out of the truck, you still lost your footing and stumbled into him, leaving Walter grinning to the side of the spectacle, commenting on your horrible clumsiness.

“Dunno,” Sy replied with a sly smile. “Guess she’s just fallin’ for me.” The cheesy joke made Walter stop dead in his tracks.

“I think that’s twenty-five,” he deadpanned, looking at you. In a less-than-sober state, somewhere in the past year, you had made a deal: if either of them managed to make that joke twenty-five times before the end of the year, you’d… Alright, let the records show that when you made that bet, you had been entirely convinced they’d never take you up on the offer to let them kiss you. But they had.

“You’re not gonna hold me to what I said back then, are you?” you asked in a small voice, your cheeks so hot you could probably fry an egg on them. The door of the truck slammed shut behind you, and Sy slowly stepped forward, forcing you to step back, until you were backed up against the truck, with him leaning over you – completely caged in between his solid body and the car.

“Deal’s a deal, sugar.” There was no trace of his usual grin, no hint of the mischievous glint in his eyes that normally told you he was kidding. He just came closer and closer as your eyes went wide – Walter did nothing. Jackass.

Not that kissing Sy was something you didn’t want. Oh no! In fact, it was something a fairly large part of you wanted so badly you thought you might burst. On some days, being close to either of them – let alone both – was torture, where your heart raced every time they came near you, and you unconsciously held your breath when they touched you… And while the guys just freely admitted to having sex dreams about you, you kept the little nugget of truth that you had similar dreams about them, tightly under wraps. Not because you thought they’d tease you about it, or anything, just… No, wait, actually that’s exactly why you didn’t tell them.

A few more seconds passed in which your heart tried its best to jump out of your chest.

“This isn’t funny, Sy,” you snapped on a sharp exhale when his mouth curled at the corners into that signature smirk you loved to hate. Finally able to gather your thoughts as well as your strength, you put your hands on his chest and pushed. It was a good thing he let you go, because if he had decided to stay put, you wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell.

“I want my kiss, sugar,” he called after you as you paced away to… alright, you didn’t actually know where you were going, but away, at least. “One way or another.”

As pissed – or confused – as you were, this was ‘the outdoors’ and therefore absolutely not the type of environment you were well equipped for in any kind of way, thus you decided it was best to stay close – within earshot, at least – to the boys. But they could take care of unpacking and pitching tents and whatever the fuck else needed doing.

“Hey.” Sy sat down next to you on the rock you had claimed, and put an arm around you. This was oddly comfortable, especially compared to the tense situation by the car, earlier. “I was messin’ with ya back there, you know that, right?” Whether it was to make a point, or simply because Walter wasn’t watching – or maybe because the threatening wall of man from before was now your familiar gentle giant again, you had no idea, but you impulsively reached for Sy and kissed him on the cheek. A low chuckle escaped him, and he pulled you closer.

“There’s a trail up to a waterfall we maybe wanted to check out, you in? Easy hike.” The good thing about hanging out with the guys was that they really considered your level of… adventurous ineptitude. If they suggested this hike, it meant they were at least medium convinced you could actually make it there and back in one piece – or that they could make it at least halfway with you on their backs.

The hike led up to a beautiful, clear river, and a spectacular waterfall. Between the smell of the woods, the sun comfortably warm on your skin, and the phenomenal view, this hike had been more than worth it – never mind that you were all sticky and sweaty from trying to keep up with the guys and their superhuman pace.

“On the way back, can we please remember that I have little legs?” you complained as you sank down onto the rock at the river bank the boys had selected to eat yet another sandwich on. Sy hummed, finally contently munching on the tuna sandwich you’d denied him in the car, and Walter laughed. You sat in silence while your friends ate their food, which meant the rock inevitably became too boring for your limited attention span.

What started off as a relatively sure-footed expedition over the rocks that stuck out of the water, inevitably ended with your very accurate portrayal of a soaking wet person regretting most – if not all – of their life choices. Sy sighed and rolled his eyes as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, taking his sweet time to get up and make his way over to you to fish you out of the water – which he then called ‘refreshing’ instead of ‘freezing fucking cold’. That didn’t improve your mood. Next, Walter had to dive for your phone – which, luckily, could swim, but was still going to be next to useless to you at the bottom of this far-deeper-than-anticipated vein of icy death.

Shivering, covered in goosebumps and with chattering teeth, you stood on the bank of the river.

“Take your shirt off,” Walter commanded, plucking his own off the dry rock.

“What?” you stammered, staring at him in disbelief. Now, that alone would have been just fine, if your eyes hadn’t dropped from his face to his chest. Small droplets of water dripped from his hair and beard onto his shoulders and chest and… somehow trickled down his body in slow motion. If they knew how much willpower it took to lift your eyes to his again, they would never let you live it down. Sy repeated his words from a distance – there went your excuse that Walter had just been talking too softly. Sy was still up to his knees in the river, unbothered by the cold, just hanging out there as if that water didn’t rival the fucking arctic ocean for temperature.

As you looked at him, he started to walk back to the riverside. The sun was starting to set, changing the light in a way that made it look like Sy, much like those fucking drops of water, was moving in slow motion, flecks of sunlight dancing over his skin… These guys were distracting enough when they were dry and dressed, but now that they were wet and half naked, with damp, coarse curls sticking to their chest and abs, catching the water that dripped down from their heads… These boys were fucking with your head. Big time.

“Sugar, take off your shirt, please,” Sy repeated when he stood next to you. “You’re freezin’, let’s get you a dry t-shirt, at least.” Oh. So, they weren’t putting the moves on you. Good to know. Hopefully, your exasperated sigh didn’t give away any of the disappointment you felt. With a little help from Walter, you lifted your soaking top over your head, not caring that they saw you in your bra until it was already too late. Sy used his t-shirt to dry you off a bit, before handing you Walter’s to put on. The whole time, they kept their eyes in decent places, and their hands didn’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t. Now, why did that make you feel sad?

“We should head back,” Walter said – mostly to Sy. The sun disappeared rather quickly, and without the heat from it, that dry t-shirt – save for the two tit-shaped wet spots where your soaked bra touched it – didn’t do much to keep you warm.

By the time you made it back to the campsite, you were shivering again. The walk had done next to nothing to warm you, and your still wet jean shorts chafed painfully against your thighs. Not to mention your thighs were starting to chafe painfully against your thighs. So, the first thing you did was disappear into the tiny single tent that was meant for you – as you had made it abundantly clear that sharing a tent with the boys was out of the question – and change into something dry, warm, and comfortable. The guys did the same, although – as it turns out – their version of ‘warm’ included no shirts. Did they ever get cold?

It was tough enough to keep your eyes off Sy in cargo shorts – although Walter in jeans was just as much of a sight for sore eyes – but now that it was getting dark, the sweats came out to play. You silently thanked Walter for his choice of black sweatpants, because keeping your thoughts out of the gutter was hard enough already. Sy was shamelessly sporting a pair of grey sweats, filling them out just about as nicely as humanly possible as he sat there, getting a fire started. The sly glances and that godforsaken smirk he flung your way from time to time told you that he was more than aware that you were checking him out.

The heat from the fire alone wasn’t enough to warm you up. Sy’s solution was tequila – which helped, but not quite enough, so Walter wrapped you in a blanket, pulling you close to his side as he ran his hands over your arms in an attempt to stop your shivering. At the same time, Sy inched closer, and before you knew it, four arms were wrapped around you.

Apart from being hot, proverbially, these guys were hot in the literal sense, too, warming you up slightly more effectively than the blanket around your shoulders and moderate amount of alcohol in your system. Still, the icy temperatures from the ground you were sitting on seeped into you without mercy. Of course, the boys took notice, both getting the same idea, and each grabbing one of your legs to try and pull you into their respective laps. Needless to say; it didn’t work, and you just ended up with spread legs, sitting between them on the floor. Sy had that twinkle in his eye, that smirk on his face that was dripping with confidence and indecency… You had to get out of there before he could speak!

As you scrambled to your feet, mumbling something about getting another blanket for yourself to sit on, you tripped and fell into Walter’s lap. Of course! You had been keeping score on that bet as well, and you knew you had come here – fucking camping – with both of the guys stuck on twenty-four counts of the same lame fucking joke… This was your fault, really.

To your surprise, however, Walter said nothing – instead, he smiled politely, pulling you into a more comfortable position in his lap.

“You’ve earned it,” you whispered, although you had absolutely no idea why. Maybe because it was the truth, maybe because you just wanted this bet to be over. Either way, it hurt you that he didn’t make the dumb joke, and asked to collect his reward the way Sy had. Hoping to get up before Walter looked into your eyes – where your thoughts were no doubt displayed for everyone to see – you made a move that was entirely too advanced for your mediocre balance and agility, and you crashed down again, this time falling harder than before. As Walter grunted, panic shot through you…

“Darling, I’d ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven, but so far the only person who got hurt in that process, is me,” he blurted out in a strangled voice, while Sy was losing it next to you, howling from laughter.

Was it the booze? The fire? The tension from this afternoon? The fact that you were sitting in his lap, with his hands maybe a tad too low on your hips, but high enough to not rouse suspicion? Or maybe just your complete lack of self-control? Whatever it was, it caused you to move to straddle his thighs, and without thinking about it for so much as a second, you kissed him. If you’d had a sliver of hope before that Walter would break the kiss after an at least semi-decent amount of time, it was gone now, because the hand on your hip pulled you tighter against him, and his other hand tangled in your hair.

Walter kissed you. It took far more effort than you had ever expected to really let that sink in, but at the same time there was no way around it. He was kissing you, and it was eager, and rough, accompanied by ragged breaths and the occasional moan. It managed to make you forget everything around you. Everything except for Sy – mainly because he let out a pained grunt just as you were about to stick your tongue down Walter’s throat.

“I got a kiss on the cheek, man,” he groaned as he leaned in slightly on one elbow.

Now, if you had been thinking clearly, you would have laughed it off, gotten up and gone to bed. Safe to say, you were not thinking clearly.

Sy’s mouth felt just as good on yours as Walter’s had, with similarly soft lips, a similarly coarse beard scraping your skin, and a similar roughness to him that only wound you tighter. You moaned, your hips unconsciously grinding into Walter’s, his growing hard-on providing extra friction to soothe the ache between your legs. When you briefly opened your eyes to see if Sy was as involved in this as you were, you saw him palm his own erection through his sweats – casually adjusting its position before focusing on you again. In that moment – timed perfectly with a moan from Walter – something inside of you snapped.

“I’m going to bed,” you stuttered as you broke the kiss with Sy, at the same time scrambling to get to your feet – this time succeeding without falling into anyone, and making it to your own tent without a hitch. ‘

Now, if it had been a sober conversation, and it hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere without a sound to be heard for miles other than crickets, the occasional owl, and the crackling of the fire, at least half of it would have been inaudible from where you had pitched your tents. But the boys were too drunk, and their voices too deep and dark – the sound just traveled too far. You could have ignored them. You could have turned around, pulled your sleeping bag over your ears, and pretended to be asleep until it became the truth. Instead, you listened, sometimes straining to understand what they were saying.

“So, who do we say got her first?”

“I’m asking for a do-over.”

“Because it was me?”

“We could just… Y’know…”

“Think she’d go for it?”

“What, both of us? My ex did…”

“But she was nuts.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough.”

Both of them? Both of them? As in… Separately? Or… Oh, what the fuck did it matter! The answer was yes.

What surprised you most about your thoughts was how completely unsurprised you were by them. Somehow, the idea of sleeping with both Sy and Walter felt as natural as could be, and left you not only stumped, but with another problem that needed tending to…

Without thinking, you slid your hand down your body, and into your sweatpants. Kissing the boys had definitely had its effect on you, you had known that as soon as it had happened, but the extent of the mess between your thighs was still quite surprising. Somehow, tasting both of them, followed by your eavesdropping, had made you dripping wet and craving something more than just your fingers. Unfortunately, they’d have to do.

You thought of that first kiss with Walter, then the one with Sy, then wondered what it would feel like to have those beards scratch the skin of your neck, slowly making their way down to your chest. Would they lick? Bite? Moan? You pictured Sy, eagerly making his way further down, while Walter kept his attention on your chest. Would he be as quiet as he always was? Was Sy as loud as you imagined him to be?

There were so many things to wonder about, besides the obvious size question, that the thoughts consumed you completely as you worked yourself up to your peak. So completely, in fact, that you didn’t hear the guys return to the tents – just as you squealed from pleasure while you came. Hard.

“Fuck, sugar,” Sy said from outside. Walter warned him to stop talking, but he didn’t listen. “Tell me if you want any help.”

It was tempting to say ‘yes’. It was tempting to crawl into that tent and tell them you had heard everything they said by the fire. It was tempting to offer yourself up on a silver platter, hoping they’d make good on their promises from before by fucking the life out of you. But things that are tempting can also still be difficult, so you did nothing. Well, nothing… If ‘dying of embarrassment’ counts as ‘something’, you were definitely not doing nothing.

The sound of your own teeth chattering prevented you from falling asleep, even though you could hardly keep your eyes open. And who knew goosebumps could hurt like this? The boys had warned you beforehand that it would get cold at night, and you’d even told Sy what you had planned on wearing as pajamas, and he’d said you’d be good. Well, you weren’t good. You were covered from head to toe, and you were not – by any definition of the word – ‘good’.

As hard and painful as it was to just lay there and freeze, it was harder to get up, worm your double-socked feet into your sneakers and get out of your tent. Outside, it was pitch black, and the dim light of your phone was barely enough to prevent you from falling flat on your face. You had to credit the boys with their incredible foresight to keep the path from your tent to theirs free of tripping hazards – something you were so delighted in at that moment that you forgot to question whether or not there was some sort of ploy, or whatever in place. Lewd scheme or not, you were glad to make it without a hitch.

“Eh, guys?” you whispered after zipping open the tent and poking your head in.

“Hm? What?” It was Walter – and from Sy’s continued snoring, you deduced that you shouldn’t wait for him to answer; he wasn’t waking up.

“I’m really fucking cold,” you admitted reluctantly. That seemed to wake Walter up a little more…

“Cold? You could go on an expedition to the north pole dressed the way you are!” The sleep-drunk slur of his voice was… adorable, in a way. To his left – no, his right… To his left from where you were standing? The left side of the air-mattress they were on when you looked at it, standing at the foot of the bed, the right side if you were actually lying in… oh for fuck’s sake! Next to him, Sy groaned and turned – although you couldn’t see any of that, because it was very dark.

“The fuck is going on?” he grunted, his voice gravelly and dark – which did a good job of making your knees weak.

“She’s cold,” Walter replied dryly.

“There’s no way,” Sy said in disbelief, “she’s dressed for winter in Alaska.”

“If you two are done mocking me, I’m actually freezing my ass off out here. Do you have an extra blanket or something?” you snapped.

“Sugar, we’re not even wearin’ shirts,” Sy said, his voice steadier now that he was waking up.

“Great, so you put on a shirt, and I’ll take your sleeping bag.” It was a shame they couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but the snippy tone would surely get your point across.

“Or you could just come here, love,” Walter said all of a sudden. There was rustling in the tent and then a dim red light over your heads turned on.

“Interesting choice…” you started, but Walter and Sy chuckled.

“It’s easier on your eyes, sugar.” Shit, Sy was easy on your eyes, god damn. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way he casually lounged on that fucking mattress right now, with that arm behind his head, eyes half shut…

Walter was sitting up, holding a hand out to you, waiting patiently until you had zipped open the door further – which took so long that he ended up helping you with it. As you got in, he got out, and for a moment you were scared he would offer to leave you with Sy while he took your tent, but after a while he returned holding your backpack and sleeping bag.

The bed was a bit small for the three of you, especially since the guys were so bulky, but you managed to make it work. The only thing was… shivering in between them was hardly more comfortable than shivering by yourself, and now there wasn’t enough space to curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

“Sugar, stop squirmin’, c’mere.” Sy’s strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, when up until now you’d been trying desperately not to touch either of them. “Alright, I take it back, she is freezin’.” A gesture to Walter you could feel but not see, made him scooch over, too, until his body was flush against yours.

Your heart raced in your throat when warm hands slipped underneath your hoodie, stroking your side and – eventually – your stomach. Somewhere down the line, you forgot how to breathe properly, taking in shallow breaths, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice. Of course, they did, because they were inches away from you.

“You should take this off, sugar,” Sy mumbled into your ear. Every muscle in your body tensed up at the suggestion, and it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“C-can’t,” you stammered, “I’m not… eh… I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Fairly sure we’ve seen a pair of tits before, love,” Walter replied, right at the time Sy muttered ‘neither are we’, making you laugh. Somehow, all of this seemed innocent – or rather; you were convincing yourself it felt innocent, and any subtext and undertones were a figment of your imagination, instead, when in fact, it was far more likely that it was exactly the other way around…

“Not mine,” you protested, biting your lip as a third hand, belonging to Walter, began to roam your back.

“We’re aware of that,” Sy said, his voice dangerously close to your ear. His breath was hot against your cold skin – a sensation that made you shiver.

“In fact, we try not to think about it. It makes us sad,” Walter said, leaning his forehead against yours, sliding his hand down your back and then up your side until his thumb was less than an inch away from the underside of your boobs.

For a moment, the thought that this was just a tactic to actually warm you up flashed through your head, because – in all fairness – it was working. Every part of you was suddenly glowing, breath quick and ragged in anticipation of whatever it was that would come next. What surprised you, though, was how calm they both seemed. Then again, they had already – unknowingly – admitted to having done this before. If that was where this was headed, which you still didn’t quite know for sure… It was as if the guys were both waiting for something. Waiting for… you.

Your lips trembled as you tilted your head up, Walter taking your hint and pressing his lips to yours. Sy pushed your hair out of the way and latched on to your neck. Neither of them went straight to groping you – not more than they had been up until now – but it was only a matter of time before you felt Walter’s hand creep up to your chest. He broke your kiss, his eyes silently asking for permission, which you gave him with the flash of a smile and a slight nod, gasping when his fingers brushed past your nipple. Despite the rising temperatures in the tent – even though most of that was likely just your imagination – the difference between your skin and Walter’s was striking, and you moaned when his warm hand cupped your breast.

Sy was less subtle by about a million degrees, boldly grabbing as much of your other boob as humanly possible – and he had big hands, so you quickly ran out of tit for him to dig his fingers into.

“Can you take it easy,” you blurted out as you laughed in surprise at his – as far as you were concerned – unwarranted enthusiasm.

“Darlin’, I’ve been dreamin’ of these tits for weeks, throw a man a bone.” He groaned when you backed a hip into him the same way you would have if he had been standing next to you.

“Looks like you’re the one throwing me a bone, Syverson,” you teased when you felt his cock push against your ass. It was a horrible joke; Walter laughed, Sy did not – possibly because he was the one on the receiving end of your mockery. Instead, you heard a low, arrogant chuckle in your ear, that told you exactly how he wasn’t going to give you the upper hand.

“I ain’t throwin’ you nothin’, sugar,” he growled, putting a hand on your hip, gripping you tight. “I’m gonna make you fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Promises, promises.” Teasing the boys was fun when you were studying, because you very clearly had a head start in that department, and they would get frustrated, and it was very cute. But now, sandwiched between their bodies, gone was your head start. Any advantage you had over them, in any other way, was useless here. The worst part? They fucking knew it. It was as if they grew bigger and you got smaller, and you were loving every second of it.

Suddenly, the hands underneath your sweater grew impatient, tugging the fabric up until there was no point in keeping it on. Rough hands turned you on your back, which left you staring up at both guys while they raked their eyes over your naked upper body. The knowledge that they were far from unaffected by you graced you with a sense of pride that helped keep doubts and shyness away as you reveled in their attention and the appreciative grunts and moans they let out as they looked at you.

“Fuck,” Walter muttered, licking his lips, completely focused on your bare skin. He scooched closer to you, grinding his hips into your side as he did, and turned your face to his to kiss you.

It was as eager as before, this time with Sy descending, pressing his lips to your neck, exceeding every expectation you had created in your fantasy from before; their lips were softer, their tongues wetter, and the way the coarse hair felt on your skin better than anything you could ever imagine. You whined and squirmed as their hands glided over your body, paying plenty of attention to your boobs, their fingers treating the soft flesh in remarkably similar ways. After a while, they switched places; Sy kissed you, Walter explored your body, making you gasp into Sy’s mouth as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently on the hardened little bud while his fingers worked the other.

Eventually, he came back up to kiss you, a situation Sy took advantage of by diving straight back between your boobs, this time sliding his hand down your stomach and into your sweatpants – which is when you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop.” Stern and very effective – not that you were about to give the boys any credit for not assaulting you; that sounded like common fucking decency to you, actually. “Before this goes any further; did either of you, with your infinite wisdom and incredible foresight, pack condoms? Because if not…” Before you finished that sentence, both of them sat up and reached for their bag, leaving you there, taken aback by… You didn’t actually know what had you so shocked about this.

Sy made it back to your side first, tucking a handful of condoms beneath his pillow before laying down again. “Oral?” he asked. It was only half the question, but you understood perfectly. You quickly established that everyone was clean, making the short answer to his half-question ‘without’. Sy responded to that agreement by promptly sliding his hand into your pants, not wasting any more time. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he let out a low chuckle.

“For a moment I was worried you didn’t want this as much as we do,” he growled in your ear. “Guess I was wrong.” One quick, skilled swirl of his finger around your swollen clit made you whine – a sound he clearly found very motivational, because his fingers picked up a steady rhythm. You tried to hide your face in Walter’s neck to cover up the sound of your moans, but he caught you and kissed you instead.

Sy somehow found the time to kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear – sinking his teeth into you ever so slightly, stopping just before he hurt you – while he continued what he was doing. His fingers were absolute magic, making you swear under your breath as he effortlessly slipped two of them inside you. Next, he kissed his way down again, not stopping at your breasts, but continuing over your abs, until he reached your sweatpants, pulling them down eagerly without waiting for your permission. Of course, he had it – and you’d had plenty of time to stop him while he was headed there. It’s just that… That was about the very last thing you wanted.

Next to you, Walter kept busy pressing lazy kisses to your neck and jaw, occasionally pulling away to look at you, while he held you and played with your boobs. A few times you tried to move your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, but he stopped you every time.

“Would you just...”

“Darling, been there, done that. You’ll be useless to me within seconds.” He nodded towards Sy, who was taking a moment to find a decent position between your legs. You raised your eyebrow at Walter, questioning his words, but he didn’t budge. “I’m gonna wait my turn, love.”

“I know this one,” Sy said, running his fingers over the fabric of your thong. You chuckled – he was right; he’d barged into your room one night while you were changing into whatever you were going to wear out to the club, and he’d seen you in your underwear. This underwear. He took his sweet time taking it off, teasing you with kisses on the inside of your thighs, his beard rough against your sensitive skin, until you were almost begging him to keep going. Finally, he pulled your panties down.

“You were right,” he said to Walter, leaving you to wonder what the fuck… “It is her natural hair color.” Oh. You fought the urge to kick Sy – instead, you lightly squeezed your thighs shut around his head. It didn’t seem to bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact.  

The urge disappeared altogether when you – finally – felt his tongue on your pussy. He wasn’t subtle, but damn, he was good. Walter had absolutely had a point; barely ten seconds in and you couldn’t keep your eyes open, let alone focus on anything other than the feeling of Sy’s tongue on your clit. He impatiently spread your legs further while mumbling some very dirty things about how much he wanted to taste you. Involuntarily, you chuckled – causing both guys to stop what they were doing and looking at you in suspicion. Lying was pointless; they knew you well enough by now to effortlessly see through that, and you sighed.

“I… eh…” you stammered, unable to find the words.

“Come on,” Walter said, “if you’ve still got things to hide from us now…” He was right, of course, this wasn’t a position you’d have found yourself in at all if you hadn’t been so comfortable with – and hot for – these guys. Then again, you were already exposed and vulnerable… Why make that worse?

You hid your face in Walter’s neck as you just said what was on your mind without thinking about it: “I always imagined you to be the quiet one and Sy the loud one.”

“Always?” Sy teased you. His usual cocky attitude transferred seemly to the bedroom – or… tent – as it would seem. Except now, for once, you had a decent shot at shutting him the fuck up – although you did have a feeling you were going to like his smug confidence for a change. Sy had been growing out his buzzcut for a few weeks now, which made his hair just about long enough to grab – a fact you used to your advantage when you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his face back to where you wanted it.

“That’s just going to make it harder to answer the question, darling,” Walter muttered next to you while drawing circles around your nipples with impatient fingers.

“Fuck!” you shrieked as Sy’s tongue hit your clit just right – a note he took to heart, because he didn’t leave that spot again, leaving you wishing that all men were that smart. Because why – for the love of God – did they always change their approach as soon as they found a spot you let them know you really liked? Right… The question at hand… “You really thought it was just the two of you dreaming about me?” They had to be smart enough to figure out what you meant on their own, right? The flustered look on Walter’s face told you enough, as did the deep chuckle and gentle bite on the inside of your thigh.

Apparently fed up with your conversation, Sy doubled down on his efforts, eating you out like a man starved, more chuckles escaping him as he watched you pull his pillow over your face in an attempt to keep quiet. ‘Attempt’ because you still failed quite horribly when he pushed two fingers into your pussy and curled them, finding your g-spot without any effort. The orgasm that followed was the kind of toe-curling, earth-shattering, life-changing thing that made you really mad at yourself for one particular reason…

“Jesus fucking Christ, I should have taken you up on your offer when my useless ex broke up with me,” you moaned as Sy made his way up again, pulling in the pillow that you had haphazardly thrown aside – after you were done screaming­, that is – so you could catch your breath. Sy immediately pulled you on top of him, kissing you hard and deep, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was something that had always made you feel weird and – if you were being perfectly honest – mildly disgusted when it had been your ex doing it, but there was something about the way Sy had gone down on you, and the way he was kissing you now, something unapologetic, passionate, and enthusiastic, that made you want to kiss him.

In fact, you were just about to commit to the bit when someone – and that someone had to be Walter – grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back until you were on your knees. You tried to lie down again as you heard him rummage around, looking for something – the obvious, really. The smack on your ass made you shriek in surprise, only making you slightly worried that either sound would have been audible well outside the tent.

“Stay there,” Walter’s husky voice commanded. “My turn.” Maybe he was the quiet one, but when he did speak… Oh my! You didn’t dare to move a muscle, leaving you sitting there, exposed as you heard the pretty familiar crinkling of foil. Shortly after, you felt the tip of Walter’s cock glide along the length of your slit. He teased you for a moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. Sy laughed as your eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, guiding it to the bulge in his pants. Jackass. As soon as you got a good sense of what he was equipped with, you squealed. Not with any particular emotion in mind, just… Right now, you didn’t know what to think. In fact, Walter was well on his way to at least semi-permanently turning the whole thinking-function of your brain off.

“You alright, love?” Walter asked as he slowly pushed further into you.

“So far so good,” you moaned, “but I hope you’re running out of dick, because I’m running out of places to put it.” Cue roaring laughter from both guys…

“If you ever wonder why we love you,” Sy said, his sentence interrupted by more laughter, “that, right there. That’s why.”

You wanted to respond to that, you really did, but Walter pulling out of you already left you breathless, meaning all you could do was gasp when he slammed back into you. You’d never pictured either of them to be gentle. Concerned for your comfort, sure, but not tender. You’d been right. Luckily, gentle lovemaking was very low on your list of priorities in this particular situation – or ever – which meant you reveled in the brutish attention you got and soon found yourself wanting to beg Walter to fuck you harder.

Sy, as vocal as he’d been before, turned out to also be a champion in impatiently nudging your hand, vaguely suggesting he wanted you to do something, and for a moment it felt like you were about to regain some control of the situation, but no… He was also not above manhandling you into a position where your face hovered over his crotch, and taking his dick out himself once he got really fed up with your stalling. With your eyes wide, you looked at him – something he enjoyed for a moment before tapping the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Don’t make me ask, Sugar,” he growled. As much as you wanted to protest and act out, with Walter fucking the attitude out of you, there was nothing you could do but open your mouth and carefully wrapping your lips around him. The chuckle you let out as Sy grunted appreciatively when you swirled your tongue around his cock was interrupted by your own moan when Walter did… whatever it was that he did to cause it.

Slowly but surely, you made your way further down Sy’s dick, until a particularly violent thrust from Walter threw you off, accidentally forcing Sy deeper than you could handle. Choking and sputtering, you moved away from Sy, only scared for a moment that he’d be disappointed, but he had a different reaction – similar to Walter’s: checking to see if you were okay. Again, you were not in the habit of handing out bonus points for normal behavior, but it was nice, regardless.

“I’m fine,” you said between ragged breaths. “Note to self: deepthroating while getting railed from behind; bad idea.” The guys laughed, and as soon as you’d caught your breath, you joined them.

“There’s one way we all get attention without any risk of choking,” Sy mentioned casually, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively. Yes, you knew what he meant instantly, but… both of them? At the same time? All it took to convince you to at least give it a try was Walter slipping out of you, leaving you empty and nowhere near sated. One of Sy’s sly glances was a question to Walter, who ‘hmmph’-ed. You didn’t like the sound of that, per se, and looked over your shoulder to see what he was on about.

“Definitely depends,” he said, taking your lack of an immediate ‘absolutely the fuck not’-reaction as a sign you were considering it. And he was correct in that interpretation of the situation. “There’s a time and place for first time anal, and this is not it.” That was a sentiment you could absolutely get behind. Luckily, it didn’t matter, because it was hardly applicable. You assured the guys you had plenty of experience in that area.

Another potential spanner in the works that Sy mentioned, was the lack of lube. Somehow, Walter surprised you by mentioning you should have some with you – you did, but how did he know that?

“You use it to keep your hair from going frizzy,” he deadpanned. You looked at him as if you’d seen a ghost, while Sy looked at you as if you’d gone completely nuts.

“What?” you said, turning to Sy again. “It works!” With one hand, you reached for the strap of your backpack, pulling it towards you so you could look for the bottle. It was just under half full, but that should be enough…

Walter wasn’t stingy with the stuff, which was a good thing. There were few things more annoying to you than continuously having to tell a guy to use more lube. One, then two, then three fingers disappeared into you without a hitch, and although the fourth was a nice reminder that you had to relax, that went over without too much trouble as well. Somehow, somewhere in your mind, the fact that Walter seemed to know exactly what he was doing irked you – it was completely hypocritical of you, for obvious reasons, but right now the thought of him with anyone else made you mad.

The boys laughed when you voiced the absurd thought, and Sy didn’t neglect to point out that they hadn’t been too happy about several of the ‘scum’ (yes, really) you’d gotten together with in the time they’d known you. It was a weird thing to be joking about with two of your closest friends while one of them had several fingers stuck up your ass, but at the same time it felt very natural and on-brand for your relationship with the guys.

You whined when Walter pulled his fingers out, making Sy chuckle in a way you didn’t like at all.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” he suggested with a smug grin on his face that only widened when you told him you were definitely not going to do that. “Why not, sugar?”

Fuck, he was making good on that promise from before. Now, of course, you could convince yourself that begging for cock was beneath you, and you weren’t going to do it, but that would leave you – relatively – unfucked, which was… not desirable, to say the least. Or you could admit to yourself and them how much you wanted both of them inside of you, and have a great time.

Somehow, the red light that no one had bothered to turn off – luckily, as everything you had been doing so far would have been more or less impossible in the dark – already made the tent feel like… a brothel, quite frankly, you put your doubts aside and looked at Sy.

“We’re not going to sleep, because you’re not done fucking me,” you said, giving him your best bedroom eyes. Sy seemed impressed at first, but his eyes flitted to Walter and…

A strong hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up until your back hit Walter’s chest. His arm reached around, grabbing you by your throat – lightly, almost as if to ask for permission, but demanding.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice dark and gravelly. Down on the air mattress, Sy smirked up at you, making it painfully obvious that you wouldn’t get out of this, no matter how hard you tried. You quickly scanned your brain for all your options, sadly coming up completely empty. No matter which way you sliced it, they were going to come out on top.

“I want you to fuck me,” you snapped, “both of you.” A sarcastic chuckle behind you and Sy shaking his head as he looked up at you told you that that wasn’t good enough. After a deep breath, your voice softened as you spoke again, finally saying the word they wanted to hear: “Please.”

For a long, dull moment all you really heard was the sound of two more condoms being unwrapped, and the top of the bottle of lube clicking. Then, Sy pulled you towards him. As soon as you felt his tip at your entrance, you sat down, fighting the urge to slap him when he threw a smirk and that godforsaken horrible wink your way. Under normal circumstances you considered yourself very well versed in resisting that desire, but today… He laughed when your palm landed lightly on his cheek and thrust up into you for good measure, making you squeal and fall over. Luckily, he caught you just in time.

Just as you wanted to sit up again, Walter put a hand on your back. Right. In that little moment of silliness, you’d almost forgotten what the endgame was, but now that you felt Walter’s cock pushing against your ass…

“Keep talking to us, okay?” Sy whispered softly as he saw your expression change. He cupped your cheek, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “Breathe.” You took his advice immediately – no doubt a nice change of pace for him, as he was used to your stubbornness at this point – taking a few deep breaths. It wasn’t until the third or fourth one that Walter moved, slowly pushing into you. Keeping your eyes open was absolutely impossible, the sensation of both of them filling you up at the same time too much to even really wrap your head around. “Sugar, you okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nodded, showcasing your current full extent of your ability to answer. When Walter moved, you swore under your breath – when they both moved you hid your face in Sy’s neck and let out a loud moan, followed by an out-of-breath ‘fuck yes’, and that was all the confirmation they needed.

They established a rhythm suspiciously quickly, pumping in and out of you in sync. Yeah. They’d definitely done this before. As you pushed the thought away and focused on the incredible sensations of their cocks moving inside of you, their eager – and mostly greedy – hands on your hips, shoulders, ass, thighs, and tits, you felt a familiar pressure inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted out – and the boys seemed more than happy to oblige. With one little disclaimer…

“Make it quick, love… Not gonna last,” Walter grunted, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips. It hurt, causing you to swat at his hand, which made him relax his grip a bit. Judging from Sy’s rapid breaths and a concentrated look on his face that gave away just how much difficulty he was having with keeping his rhythm steady, he was getting pretty damn close, too. In fact, pretty much the second their thrusts dragged you over the edge, both of them grit their teeth and gave in to their own pleasure, growling profanities as they came.

The boys were nice enough to handle most of the cleanup for you – which was, given that you were camping, largely a matter of wet wipes, which was definitely not even close to the shower you would have loved to take right about now. And you couldn’t really appreciate Sy’s joke about a lovely, refreshing river near where you were, either.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you yawned, turning around in the middle of the bed, wrapping your sleeping bag tightly around your shoulders. It didn’t take the guys long to join you, and soon you were sandwiched between them again, strong arms wrapped around you – clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Walter pressed his lips to your shoulder and let out a low chuckle. “Still cold, darling?”

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed, in a tent that was already slightly warmer than comfortable, with just your sleeping bag on it. The guys had somehow already managed to worm theirs into the tiny little bags they came in, and all without waking you. Then again, it was safe to say that by now they’d proven themselves to be experts in the field of putting pretty big things in relatively tiny places…

For a moment, you wondered if you should feel weird about getting up and going outside, seeing the guys, but something about the whole thing felt so oddly natural that you didn’t give it a second thought.

“Mornin’, sugar,” Sy said as he held out some coffee to you when you joined him on the ground by the fire, where you’d spent the start of last night, as well. The two of you called Walter over, who was just about done putting your tent – the one that had been meant to be yours, anyway – away. He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck as if it weighed nothing – and maybe it indeed didn’t, you wouldn’t know, because you hadn’t touched the entire thing – and made his way over to you, gratefully taking the other cup of coffee Sy had poured.

You knew better than to try striking up a conversation with either of them before they’d finished their morning coffee – it was so bad that whenever you had classes together in the mornings, you showed up there with two double espressos for them and a latte for you, because if you didn’t do that, they’d just grouch and snap at you all the way through the first half of class.

It was all the more surprising, then, when Sy suddenly asked Walter a very unexpected question: “Have you ever kissed a dude?” The answer was no, he hadn’t - to which followed an even more surprising question: “Ever wanted to try it?”

The casual energy of the shrug with which Walter answered that question was absolutely unmatched by anything you had ever seen, and you stared at the guys, wide-eyed as they leaned in until their lips touched. It wasn’t just a quick peck, either! No, there was tongue involved in this… And by the end of it?

“Eh,” Walter said, “not for me.” Sy agreed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, completely taken aback by the unexpectedness of what had just happened. “What? You can’t just… Stick your tongue down your friend’s throat and then casually decide… What?”

“Hey,” Sy said, his tone still infuriatingly indifferent, “don’t knock it till you try it.”

[suzukiblu]

For your ask game, what’s your favorite thing you’ve ever written?

. . . god I don't even know, man, that's a LOT of things, hahaha. And like, that answer definitely changes depending on the day/year/phase of the moon. So you're getting a couple answers here! Also I'm gonna keep this mostly to DC and only include finished fics, because me picking between WIPs would take a thousand years and also probably kill us all, lol (ignore the fact that a couple of these fics have sequels in-progress right now, STILL COUNTS OKAY??).

everything happens for a reason. sometimes that reason is that you are stupid and make bad decisions. is one of the funniest fucking things I've ever written, full stop. Lex is SO fun to write, seriously, I could write him all fucking DAY.

I'm really proud of blondes really do have more fun, both because of how much it seems to have affected/touched people who read it and because I think it was my first experience with writing gender euphoria as a major thing and writing, like, an actual explicit trans narrative? Like, I definitely wrote genderfuckery and implications and metaphors before that and probably even some trans characters, arguably, but that's the first story I really remember deliberately just making about being TRANS. And also holy shit, man, did I ever love writing gender euphoria for the first time, especially because I'd mostly only seen gender DYSphoria as a focal point in other stories and it just didn't/doesn't resonate with me the same way. I'm not trans because everything else makes me miserable, I'm trans because that's what makes me HAPPY. I don't remember if I was intentionally thinking that at the time, but that's the story I wanted to write for that one.

one day this will all be yours and you found me when no one else was looking are both concepts I love and found really cathartic to write and was very pleased to finish. I love that they're sort of "families of choice" fics about, like, actual BIOLOGICAL families (like, in the context of the fics, anyway), which probably sounds weird but is a concept I'm sort of painfully fascinated by--like, about the fact that you CAN choose your family, obviously, but sometimes you're lucky enough to find out that you had someone worth choosing already and just didn't necessarily know it, or to both grow into people who CAN choose each other even if you had problems or lashed out due to outside traumas or didn't always understand each other. That's, like, very personally relevant and meaningful to me, the idea that maybe the thing that got all fucked-up and the choices you made when you didn't fully understand the consequences of them can still be worked through and repaired and made into something new and better.

Also, special mention because this one is back a few fandoms but zero humble on it: best friends means you get what you deserve is just really, really good, and I did GOOD on it, hah. I took a three-word prompt/concept and turned it into 17k of "hey, doesn't this make more sense for why this character is the way he is, and isn't this what the main character actually wanted??" in genre-savvy explanation of why the sidekick character might stick around for the antisocial asshole hero and seem perfectly happy to base their life largely around them no matter how said hero treats them, and then I made the Consequences(tm) happen to Jaskier and Geralt, both bad AND good. I am just SO dang proud of that one, UGH I love it. ❤️❤️❤️❤️ FRIENDSHIP, AND THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

I have been replaying Witcher 3 and I love it, but the more I play, the more I realise it's got similar writing to Cyberpunk except in a medievel coat instead of a cyber coat.

- Gangs every 100 feet in broad daylight seem to outnumber non-Gang populations.

- Every npc is saying the edgiest shit imaginable except it's about rape filth and spouse abuse instead of drugs guns and orgasm

- Your character is always a hardass with some good traits no matter how evil you try to be

- insane and incomprehensible inventory system

- Every decision you make ruins someone's life somewhere

I still prefer Witcher's storytelling for sure, Cyberpunk feels... wholly and completely obnoxious, whereas Witcher is dark medieval fantasy which i enjoy far more as a fucked up setting than capitalist future hell. But it's funny seeing how similar the sidequests get to each other in Witcher. Geralt recieves a contract from some person, follows it until he finds some other person, and Geralt has to decide which person hell help. Usually whichever decision you make, someone will get away with being bad. It's a bit silly. It has something in common with Horizon series. In that game, literally every sidequest has the characters blaming an outsider for their problem and Aloy finds out someone on the inside caused it. Every damn quest.

[fangirleaconmigo]

I just finished Time of Contempt for the third time and I am deep deep deep in my Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon feelings again. Now that know what’s coming and I understand her arc, I’m catching a lot more.

TW: mentions of sexual assault

Ciri’s descent, which we see a hint of at the end this book, her “corruption arc” is the story of what war, and what the associated abandonment and abuse of children, does to a society. It is a visceral story about how (as the saying goes) A child who is not embraced by the village, will burn it down to feel its warmth.

Probably the worst interview of Sapko that my eyes have had the displeasure to read was a guy who asked him basically (paraphrased) how could Ciri’s mind be so “weak” that she falls into murder and crime after everything she learned from Geralt.

And like BUDDY DID YOU NOT READ THE STORY? Wow ok.

Sapko is like…because that is real, look around you.

“Well, I suppose here my fantasy becomes very real and lifelike. What happened to Ciri happened to hundreds of teenagers, in that number some I knew.”

There is a narrative.

And when kids are all by themselves and repeatedly traumatized and threatened, they will turn where they need to for safety. Their minds and the way they process empathy and emotions will change as a result of related abuse.

And to me, that arc is very believable. And it is part of her rite of passage of ultimately choosing good and coming fully into her power, choosing the love and example of her found family (primarily Geralt and Yen but also Kaer Morhen and Dandelion). In this terrible interview (seriously someone let me interview the man I could do better) he says:

And – last not least – that’s me, the author, who has invented Ciri and her fate, who has invented the whole storyline, and the storyline required of Ciri to become a teenage killer. It was a stage in her rite de passage, the rite of passage.

It is an arc. And for me a very believable (if extremely painful one) First there is the “before”.

The story is very clear who Ciri is before she is alone without the protection of Yen and Geralt.

Her character is already established by Time of Contempt but the narrative still goes through the trouble of showing her deny the offer of destructive power.

As a little girl, (in Blood of Elves) Ciri risks herself to save Triss’s life when she and Geralt’s caravan is attacked. She doesn’t wait for someone else to help, she shields Triss with her body. (That made me feel some kinda way in retrospect let me tell ya)

In the same scene we see how tender hearted she is towards the elves plight and how she resolves not to be neutral.

Blood of Elves and Time of Contempt both show how she is just a little kid who wants parents (running away to see Geralt, writing him letters from Meliteles temple begging him to come see her, identifying fiercely as a witcher girl of Kaer Morhen, idolizing Yen)

But at the end of Time of Contempt, Ciri still makes two dramatic, narrative establishing decisions, that show what kind of person she is.

First is the refusal of power. The refusal of revenge.

In the desert, she taps into prohibited power (fire power) to save Little Horse. It begins to consume her, offering her dominion over the world. It is personified by Falka and it shows Ciri vengeance. It shows her her enemies. It shows her the people who killed her grandma and sacked Cintra. It shows her the black knight.

Ciri and vengeance is already a theme. We know she feels urges towards vengeance for the people who slaughtered her family. The only bad fight she’s had with Geralt was about that. (She says she wanted vengeance and he overreacts and has to follow her and comfort her and apologize. The narrative doesn’t let us hear what he says, it’s through Triss’s eyes, but it is heart wrenching)

And now she is being offered vengeance by showing her what it really looks like. People suffering and dying. And it’s asking hey little girl you want this? Because I can give it to you.

This power also shows her her loved ones.

At this point in the story, Ciri is alone, lost in a desert, and feels abandoned. And any kid that feels abandoned blames her parents. It makes her a very believable kid character. Im alone? Where are my parents?? They’ve abandoned me?? At least that’s what she says.

But when the power offers her the opportunity to take the hurt she is feeling and hurt them back she is horrified.

She shouts out loud that she relinquishes it. She relinquishes all the power and collapses.

She makes an incredibly important decision to refuse destructive vengeful power.

The second thing that happens to establish her character at this point in the saga is she is being pursued by people who want to kill her and/or turn her into Nilfgaard. She is running and trying to escape. She is armed and gets a clear shot at a pursuer but again, sees a human face, and can’t do it. She shows mercy because her empathy will not allow her to see a persons face and kill them.

She is very lucky to survive that encounter.

She is a good, decent, human being.

But the story doesn’t leave us there. It gives us an ominous hint of the oncoming storm.

To get out of a life threatening situation, she joins a gang called The Rats. The Rats are a group of heavily traumatized war orphans who have been abandoned, raped, and abused and have banded together to not be alone. They’ve become murderers and no longer feel empathy for those they harm, but rather they take pleasure at killing others. She sees the look in their faces and identifies it as evil.

They adopt her. They protect her. Suddenly she is ‘safe’. Suddenly she is with others like her (war orphans with heavy trauma). Suddenly she is no longer alone. She is being offered a new identity (her old identity will get her killed at this point) She is them.

They also sexually assault her. (Cycle of abuse. I had to fast forward those parts. I’m listening to the audio and I can’t do that again)

But by the end Ciri has a new family. It’s the only option to her for survival. She finally manages to kill someone and takes the name Falka.

And as the return reader, you already know just how horrific it’s gonna get before it gets better. The feelings of doom. Ooof.

There is so much coming and if you’ve already read it, the dread is real.

It takes worse torture and assault than you can possibly imagine for Ciri to become the “teenaged killer” the narrative demands.

Because above all Ciri is like Yen. She is a survivor. She is angry. She has impulses for vengeance when she is harmed. All of these things are normal and human and can be given healthy outlets in normal situations. But this is not a normal situation.

So yeah I love her so much and the feelings of doom I have going into the next book are hanging over me. Of course it makes the bloody vengeance at the end that much more satisfying. But yeah.

And just to be clear I don’t judge her at all for anything she does during this “corruption” arc. I just don’t. She is surviving and no one can make me hate her ever. I’m an irrational person when it comes to her. And the her growth, her arc is one of the most satisfying I’ve ever read.

Most of us may not be war orphans being pursued by half the world. But the parallels to being an unprotected teenaged girl in a world that wants to exploit you, chew you up, and spit you out, is something those of us who came from abusive homes can understand. It is ultimately very validating and inspiring.

So I’ll be skipping the worst parts on audio. Some of them I just can’t do again. But I’m still obsessed with this story and I love my girl.

Ok thanks for reading my Ciri feels.

[hannibard]

"I'm choking from the taste (but I can't help but swallow)"

Chapter 3: Bad idea

Summary: Jaskier gets caught up in missing Geralt hours and it causes him to make an impulsive decision.

Click here to read on ao3

After that fateful night where Radovid decided to stop playing nice, everything changed. Jaskier was moved from the king’s quarters to his own little room not too far away- which was a blessing and a curse simultaneously as it gave the bard some much needed privacy, but also signified to the staff that his importance had severely decreased, making them gradually neglect their duties in regard to him.

The upkeep of his recently acquired room was left to Jaskier more often than not, which he wasn’t very good at since he’d grown up as a noble and then spent the rest of his life as a travelling minstrel without a permanent residence- save for his small apartment at Oxenfurt Academy, which wasn’t really his, just a living space that was lent to him as part of the remuneration for his occasional position as a professor. The lavish meals that used to be delivered to him three times a day had also started to become scarce. Thank Melitele Jaskier had made friends with the kitchen staff, or he would be borderline starving.

Another sign that the bard had fallen from the king’s favor was the fact that Radovid called for him with far less frequency, maybe twice a week- which wasn’t little, but it was a clear deviation from their previous routine- and Jaskier was usually kicked out after their (rough, a lot rougher than before) coupling ended.

Thankfully, he was still allowed to play his role as court bard. The show must go on, Radovid had said after Jaskier inquired about it, but sadly the position didn’t belong exclusively to him anymore and other bards visited every so often to perform. The first one of them being *gag* Valdo Fucking Marx. Jaskier wasn’t sure if Radovid had invited him on purpose after hearing about their long-standing rivalry or not but he was pissed nonetheless.

“I don’t know how you managed to keep the king’s favor for so long Javier, but your luck has run out. Seems like he’s losing interest in you.” Valdo said to him with a taunting sneer when they inevitably crossed paths.

If only, Jaskier thought with a resigned shake of his head and didn’t even bother to correct the other bard about his name. 

Because of those sudden breaks, and with the added bonus of most of Jaskier’s nights post-performance being free, he had a lot more time to enjoy the banquets and indulge in the wine and ale that was offered to the guests in abundance. The amount he consumed increased steadily each day but he was past the point of caring.

His relationship with alcohol was a complex one. Like the majority of people, Jaskier often drank as a way to let loose and have fun, to just plainly sate his thirst or as a coping mechanism after going through hard times- when he was not yet ready to sort through his feelings and express them through poetry or song. Τhe most notable instance in recent history being after he was abandoned at the top of a mountain by the person he cared most about in the world. Geralt may have apologized (in a rather lackluster attempt) but the damage was already done.

Over 20 years he spent loyally following the witcher and yet he was discarded so easily, as if he meant nothing. Their friendship- even though the witcher still refused to call it that - had been going for over ten years when the djinn incident happened, and all this while the witcher snapped at him and tried to leave him behind at every turn, keeping clear boundaries and only allowing minimum physical contact.

Jaskier thought that was because Geralt just wasn’t used to kindness and companionship, but after seeing the way he was immediately taken with Yennefer, the bard had to face the bitter truth that he himself was the problem.

The bard was perfectly aware as to how he was often perceived by others, being either too much or too little, only tolerable in small doses and easily tossed aside. He’d just been stupid enough to assume Geralt was different…

He spent months post-mountain in an intoxicated haze before the war worsened and he decided to use his popularity to help smuggle elves away from certain death. He felt like he owed it to them, partly because of Toss a Coin - which didn’t paint them in the best light - but also as an apology for what his kind was doing to them. Through it all he continued to drink, albeit with less vigor, not wanting to chance anything going wrong with his plans and putting everyone who trusted and depended on him in danger.

After the Voleth Meir incident, where he spent most of the night being useless and hiding underneath a table while drunk as witchers around him lost their lives, he decided to put an end to his addiction. It took a lot of time and effort, but he pulled through because he couldn’t be of any use to Geralt otherwise.

Some might call his loyalty foolish, but if the witcher ever needed him, Jaskier would damn well do anything in his power to help him. Even if that meant staying behind and taking care of various matters while Geralt played happy family with his child surprise and the woman that he had decided to tie himself to after knowing for a day.

Soon after his arrival to Redania Jaskier broke his sobriety streak, finding no point in maintaining it anymore, and it got a lot worse after his and Radovid’s ‘falling out’. Life was just so much easier to deal with that way…

--------

Jaskier was making his way back to the palace’s living quarters from the banquet hall, having given a truly excellent performance if he’d say so himself, one that left everyone present in a jovial mood, handing him drink after drink after drink... In few words, Jaskier was well and truly wasted.

He could barely see from the dizziness, and the faint candle lights that were placed sparsely throughout the hallway for aesthetic purposes weren’t much help, so the bard’s subsequent stumbling and falling flat on his face was unavoidable, really. Jaskier’s reflexes, not so great to begin with, had been made even worse due to the large amounts of alcohol in his system and he barely had time to shield his head with his hands before he made contact with the (thankfully) carpeted floor.

He stayed in that position for a while, cursing his shitty luck. This had been one of his best days since he arrived here and now his mood was once again ruined. The pleasant buzz in his head was already slowly disappearing and soon he’d have to face reality once again.

After wallowing in misery for a good five minutes, Jaskier planted his palms to the ground and tried to lift himself up in what could be considered the world's worst push-up, before his trembling arms gave out and he ended up back where he started.

All the muscle I gained after the mountain is almost gone, he thought bitterly. With a loud groan, the bard used the rest of his strength to flip himself to his back. All that time and effort wasted.

That position was a lot more comfortable, and at least he didn’t have to deal with a mouthful of floor any longer, so it was a win in Jaskier’s book.

As he stared at the ceiling, he noticed how the flickering light from the candles reflected against the unlit chandelier, the crystals forming small rainbows that danced around them. It had been so long since Jaskier had seen an actual rainbow.

He could almost imagine Geralt standing above him and rolling his eyes fondly as he waited for Jaskier to take his outstretched hand and help himself up, like they’d done so many times in the past. Jaskier reached his hand up tentatively but there was nothing in the empty space for him to grab. He pursed his lips to stop them from trembling as he felt a tear slide down his cheek.

He closed his eyes. Geralt wasn’t here. Jaskier would never see him again, and out of everything he'd been through so far, no pain could compare against the one caused by this knowledge. Gone were the days where they travelled side by side, huddled together for warmth, relaxed around a campfire under the stars, bickered…

The witcher finally got his blessing.

This was the second time the bard had to mourn Geralt while he was, hopefully, still alive. The witcher was, predictably, doing a good job of hiding his traces because no rumors circulated about him or Ciri at court, and while Jaskier was desperate to know if they were ok, he hoped that no news meant good news.

Jaskier was about to lower his still extended arm and go back to ignoring the gaping hole in his chest in when it was suddenly enveloped in someone’s grip. The bard opened his eyes, startled, to see Blade looking down at him with a smirk.

“How much longer are you planning to stay here? It’s been almost 20 minutes and I would’ve preferred to be in bed by now.”

Jaskier glared up at them and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Bed? And here I thought you spent the nights crouched outside my door like a clingy pet that'd been kicked out.”

Blade rolled their eyes and swiftly pulled Jaskier to his feet. The bard swayed and his knees were about to give out again when Blade wrapped an arm around his torso.

“Oof, you’re heavier than you look bardling.” They grunted.

Jaskier bit his lip harshly to distract his mind from the resurfacing memories of Yennefer who used to call him that and squawked in offense. “Are you calling me fat?! Ohohoho no, this will not stand, uh- Mister? Miss? Argh whatever, you don’t deserve to be called by a respectful term anyways, but you get the point!

Blade chuckled and leveled him with a look. “By this I assume you mean you, because you're the only thing having trouble standing currently.”

Before Jaskier could find a retort, they half-dragged him along in the direction of his room. The movement made the bard’s stomach roll, but the dizziness had mostly cleared due to the fall. They reached his bedroom soon after and Blade deposited the bard to lean against the door. The guard nodded toward it. “Go on then. And be sure to dream about ways to get back at me.”

Jaskier punched their chest weakly and yawned. “Eh, this should be enough.” He said and made to turn around but paused in his tracks. He turned back towards Blade. It was one of the rare cases where their hood was missing. Jaskier had never seen their bare face from this close before so he took his time studying it.

Their auburn hair had taken an even more reddish hue as a result of the candlelight, creating a stark contrast between it and their tan skin, that was made darker due to the shadows. Their facial features were delicate yet sharp and long eyelashes framed their round hazel eyes. Barely visible was a thin scar making its way vertically at the left side of their mouth that inevitably drew Jaskier’s gaze to their lips.

It had been so long since he’d done anything with anyone that wasn’t forced Radovid, and he was desperate to gain any semblance of control by reclaiming that part of himself. And Blade was right there, in all their beauty, looking back at him through half-lidded eyes that were doing a bad job hiding thinly-veiled desire…

So Jaskier did the only logical thing in this situation and grabbed the guard’s collar to pull them in for a rough kiss, teeth clanging. Blade responded immediately, grabbing the bards waist to press their bodies together and Jaskier took that chance to grind his hips against the other’s. Blade groaned against his lips and moved to mouth at the bard’s throat. Everything was moving so fast, the overwhelming sensations finally managing to quiet Jaskier’s raging mind and, at least superficially, fill the emptiness in his heart.

The bard blindly searched for the door handle with his free hand, eager to reach his bed so they could continue further, when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both him and Blade froze for a second before pulling apart abruptly.

Standing a few meters away, with his arms crossed and wearing a deceptively calm expression, was none other than the king of Redania.

[elianzis]

Какой у тебя топ 10 самых красивых мужчин в Ведьмаке?

И входит ли в него Ума?

transletion below ->

ok, let's do it this way, it won't be top 10 because I'm not very good at making them... so it's just a list [although maybe try to somehow make a tier-list?]

Regis: Well, let's start with the best vampire bun. Regis. How could anyone not like him? He's kind, he's sweet, he's good with plants and booze. He won't let you get hurt. 10/10 Jaskier: Jaskier. A man with whom you can find adventures on your ass. Kind, loyal, always helpful, a great fucking singer, funny bun, eloquent. On the downside: Adventures can be life-threatening, talks a lot, has to be rescued. Overall, a very comfortable man. 8/10 Zoltan: Oh, and Zoltan, of course! Courageous, friendly, loyal and of course the soul of the company. Always there for his friends. He's a classy guy. 10/10 Borch: Borch three jackdaws is my favorite from the book. He's dragonish, calm, smart, generous, kind, and strong. Cute bun, both as a human and as a dragonfly. His girls will protect you, and in the form of a dragon from all will win. 10/10 Geralt: Well, Gera, where without him? Smart, honest, sarcastic, will get you out of trouble, appreciates friends. Sometimes too rough, loses his memory, has slept with almost every witch he knows.7/10 Roche: Roche, where without him? I like men in uniform. A bun with a hard past, a faithful dog, a patriot, smart. I want to hug him, but I'm afraid he'll stab me, you have to earn his trust. Minuses: hot-tempered, a war criminal, he has many enemies, cruel, lives for work, perhaps not particularly romantic. 8/10 Foltest: Foltest. Well he is the king that people love. Also, of course, he is a handsome and intelligent man. But he's too much of a lover, and some political decisions can be questionable. [his voice is gorgeous] 7/10 Dettlaff: Another vampire, Dettluff. He is handsome, statuesque, introvert, doesn't like lies, sensual, loyal, handyman, caring. But he's too much of an emotional puppet, especially to anger. But I pity him, to be honest. Bad luck, man. 7/10 Olgierd: Uh…Olgerd… Well, he is fair… he knows what honor is, and he also knows art, is quite clever and handsome… He's quite a controversial person, but you can't deny that he went to a lot of trouble for love. I have contradictory feelings about him… 6,5/10 Damien: [ha ha, I think I really have a thing for men in uniform] Damien. A faithful servant of duchess Henrietta. Handsome, strong, brave and, as I said, loyal. He is untrustworthy, but if you earn his trust, you can become comrades with him. Anyway, I think… 8,5/10

roche bonus:

And also the voice in the Russian voice-over is just beautiful. I also really like his Polish voice.

[thelostgirl21]

So, I just stumbled upon an article that spoils the whole Season 3 part 2 of "The Witcher" (although it hasn't even been released here yet), and

I am... not okay... at all...

HUGE SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT... YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED...

Ok, first off, I was 100% expecting Dijkstra and Philippa to decide to get rid of Vizimir (given that he was becoming a liability), and replace him with Radovid.

The moment that the King started making decisions that didn't fit with Dijkstra's vision of what was best for Redania, I was absolutely certain that they'd find the idea of putting that spare on the throne more and more appealing.

And I'd read that, in the books, Vizimir was killed (by Philippa, that betrays Dijkstra, in a sense, by hiding her involvement in Vizimir's murder), and the country thus becomes ruled by a Regency Council lead by Dijkstra.

So, I'm not sure exactly what this will mean for this version of King Radovid.

From what I understand, officially it's Queen Hedwig, Vizimir's widow that inherits the Kingdom.

However, the Queen is too devastated and indisposed to fulfil those duties, and thus its the Regency Council that remains in charge until Radovid (who is 13 at the time) eventually retakes his Kingdom.

The book doesn't turn him into a villain. It says he gets even with those that humiliated him and his mother (whatever that is supposed to imply) and then passes in history as "Radovid the Stern". i.e.

Radovid already knows that these two had Queen Hedwig killed, and would likely at least suspect that they were behind his brother's murder as well... that is, if they don't outright tell him!

So, I really have a bad feeling about this...

Because I'm guessing they would have been completely stupid to give him the crown, if there was any chance for Radovid, at all, to hold them accountable of their crimes (I'm thinking double Regicide is pretty bad, as far as murders go...).

Like I'm suddenly considering that all of the Palace's military forces and key politicians are actually loyal to Dijkstra and Philippa rather than the King, and Radovid is essentially put into a situation where he can either:

A) Collaborate with Dijkstra and Philippa in ruling the country. i.e. Offer his ideas and input, but nevertheless allow them to make the final decisions. Be their advisers, but otherwise "King" in name and appearances only.

Or

B) Join his brother and his darling Queen Hedwig in death, with them finding someone else to rule the country that would be more receptive to their way of doing things.

Maybe King Radovid can wind up being cunning enough to outsmart them, at some point, and become the true ruler of the country...

But the reason why I'm NOT OKAY, is that Radovid was apparently planning to go after Jaskier to help him and Geralt find Ciri!!!

But, unless they are planning to get rid of Dijkstra and Philippa early on in Radovid's reign, it seems that King Radovid is meant to replace Queen Hedwig as Dijkstra and Philippa's "puppet" in the wake of Vizimir's assassination, while also having the potential to oppose them/take over later on.

And I'm guessing that the show runner might have been uncomfortable with the character of Hedwig being portrayed as basically incapable of taking care of the Kingdom or even her son in the wake of her husband's death.

Sure, the show chopped off her head! But she was portrayed as someone that was organizing political meetings in secret between the Nilfgard Empire and Redania, and getting involved in politics alongside her husband, at least!

Not so lost following his death that she couldn't function!

So, it almost seems like they chose to replace Hedwig with Radovid, to spice things up for Dijkstra and Philippa instead.

That means that Radovid was honest about his feelings for Jaskier, and wanted to be with him.

And I've heard - from someone that saw episode 6 in advance - that Jaskier gets totally heartbroken because something happens that makes him believe that Radovid was only pretending to like him.

So, if Radovid was prevented from chasing after Jaskier due to a slight case of "suddenly becoming King", then he wouldn't have been able to let him know that he was being sincere, that he was romantically falling in love with him, and that he had planned to come find him to help him and Geralt get Ciri back.

I mean, Joey did warn us about their romance having a "star-crossed lovers" edge to it... But whyyyyyyyyyy?!?!?

(At the same time, I'm so relieved that it appears that Radovid never wanted to break our poor puppy's heart...)

[limerental]

Ok spoilery initial reaction to s3 vol 2 under the cut okie dokie

The good:

some moments made me go WAHHHH aloud. frinfran supporting each other... every scene with them tbh made me insane. Cahir and fringilla reunion... they love each other.... the visuals in the cahir and ciri scene were spot on he's just a little guy. Uhhhh I forget what else. MILVAAAAAAAAA. women. Rats!!!! Tissaia's final scene/line I had to stand up and yell and cwy a little. Vilgefortz had his whole vilgussy out and he blew geralts back out with his huge throbbing staff amen.

The bad:

It wasn't very well-written plot-wise lol

A lot of stuff just... happens and a lot of characters make decisions based on ??? and they could have avoided everything that happened pretty easily. Travel and information goes around WAY too easily sometimes and not other times? Yennefer just jogging back into the battle, Ciri just jogging right into Tor Lara from the convenient beachfront entrance, Geralt standing there like 🧍‍♂️while ciri and cahir fight.

Not to do a "not like the books" comparison (that ship has sailed) but the tension during the Thanned coup in Time of Contempt is entirely in the sheer chaos of battle, making choices trying to escape and stay alive that have consequences, and ultimately everybody ending up permanently separated because of those places being the only place they can go in those circumstances. Book Ciri runs into Tor Lara because she can't go anywhere else. Book Geralt fights Vilgefortz trying to get to her, not fully knowing where she is. (I'm not as grumpy about Book vs Show yennefer changes but yeah by s3 I can 100% say they are vastly different characters.)

Other stuff I didn't like: redacting the entire war plot in boring ways and excluding the other kings. Having Dijkstra know that Phil killed Vizimir that's sooooo that's got me sooooooo. Yen being overly involved at Aretuza and presumably establishing the initial lodge instead of Phil? A bizarre choice. The coup in general being a last minute decision instead of planned in advance. (Like they had time to do arts and crafts with arm bands when did they do that? Phil hosted an orgy post banquet and was like hey girlies let's gossip about vilgefortz BTW he's evil)

Anyway. I forget what else. The main takeaway is the same thoughts I've had about twn for a while. The character moments are SO good and there are many character relationships that reach right into my heart and stab me and make me want to explode and have me spiraling into varying thoughts about them. And the plot writing is just bad and contrived lmao it's just not good.

Nothing was so egregiously bad that I won't watch s4 though I mean. When the character moments are good, they're very very good, and most of the actors are also insanely good (and hot).

[dat-carovieh]

So long to the Person you begged me to be

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

Wordcount: 24.3k

Chapters: 20

Tags: Trans Jaskier, Trans Geralt, misgendering , transphobia, winter at Kaer Morhen, balls, wedding, minor Lambert/Aiden, Kaer Morhen’s hot springs, pining, mutual pining, fake marriage, miscommunication, it’s requited they’re just dumb

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Geralt had always been a little confused by Jaskier, but he didn’t question it too much. Humans usually didn’t like him. Sure, there were exceptions, but no one had been trailing behind him, before, refusing to leave even in the face of danger or monster guts. It was dangerous just to be associated with a Witcher. Actually, walking the path with one was much worse and he didn’t understand why Jaskier would do it. Just for the adventure? There were better ways to find this. For inspiration? Seemed to dangerous.

For Witchers gender was different than it was for humans. Sure, they only took in boys, because the mutations only worked on boys, but while the rest of the world was dividing girls and boys by the genitals they were born with, Witchers knew this wasn’t actually true. Gender was rooted much deeper in a person. Geralt’s parents had treated him as a girl for this exact reason and hadn’t understood when Geralt had disagreed as soon as he had been old enough to somewhat grasp the concept. He didn’t really remember anything from this time, Witcher trials usually remove most memories of your former life. During the trials their bodies were changed to look like what was usually expected from a male body. Geralt was thankful for at least that part of the trials. He had always felt wrong with his body and he had no idea if he would have managed to go through puberty otherwise.

He hadn’t thought a lot about this since he’s been on the path. Leaving the trials behind, trying to forget the pain he had to go through had felt good. Until he had met Jaskier. He didn’t really fit into the typical categories of male and female humans assigned to people, another thing that had confused him at first. His face was too soft, the voice too high and sometimes Geralt thought he saw small breasts under the doublet. It wasn’t any of his business but he kept wondering if Jaskier could be similar to him in this regard. Just without the trials his body hadn’t gone through the changes Geralt’s had.

They had been traveling for a couple of months now. At first Geralt had been very reluctant about letting the bard come with him and had tried to drive him off. He was not proud about his decision to punch him on their first day together. It had been in the spur of the moment and he felt incredibly bad about it. He had pretended it had been because he was annoyed, but actually he had been scared. Either the human trailing after him would get hurt, it had happened before, or he would see that witchering wasn’t glorious, but a foul business and start hating Geralt, this also had happened before. So, he had been mean to him over the first couple of days. He really regretted his behaviour and the punch in particular. Even though Jaskier had not said anything about this. He had sworn to himself to never do it again.

Nothing he had done had driven Jaskier off and so Geralt had accepted the bard trailing after him. Waiting to be left by him at any moment. Maybe with an especially cruel contract, maybe when Geralt would make a wrong decision at some point, where the outcome would be much different from what he expected. Or maybe just when they wouldn’t get a room for the night again, he would decide it was not worth it. But nothing that had happened had done it yet.

Or maybe he would decide, traveling for a bit is nice, but now he has enough and he needs to get back home. Wherever that was. Jaskier never talked about where he came from. Never told him his full name, Geralt was certain that Jaskier was a stage name, he had never even mentioned a family. Geralt had asked him once, but the bard clearly didn’t want to talk about it so Geralt had dropped it.

Geralt just hoped he wouldn’t get too attached so it wouldn’t hurt when the bard would inevitably drop him.

It probably already was too late.

---

When Jaskier had met Geralt for the first time, he hadn’t even thought about what he was doing when he had gone over to the Witcher. He had seen him brooding in the corner, staring into his ale. The white hair had stood out to Jaskier immediately and the brooding aura he had been emitting had been fascinating. Jaskier had immediately been intrigued by the presence of the man. He had hoped to maybe sit with him, drink something, get to know him a bit. And then he had realized who he had run into. The Witcher Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken. This had explained why no one had wanted to come close to him. He had heard a lot about the Witcher, mostly bad things. But he hadn’t believed it and the past months had shown him how wrong all the rumours had been.

He had started to follow Geralt, thinking he would accompany him on one contract, to learn about how he works and maybe finding some inspiration and getting a little excitement out of it. But he had been so fascinated by everything that happened and by how Geralt had handled the situation. While Geralt tried to seem gruff on the outside, deep inside he just wanted to help everyone. He had been so shocked to learn what had actually happened to the elves and he wondered what else from his Oxenfurt education was wrong. This and the way Geralt had empathized with the elves had made Jaskier want to spend more time with the Witcher. At first Geralt had been kind of an asshole to him and especially after the punch in the gut he had planned to leave as soon as they were back in the tavern. But after they’d returned, Geralt had changed his behaviour toward him and they had actually gotten along pretty well when they had gotten a drink together. And Jaskier had decided to stay with him longer, since Geralt didn’t seem to mind.

By now they had been traveling together for about half a year and Geralt didn’t seem to mind him being there.

Jaskier was sure Geralt had realized something was different about him, he had looked at him a little confused sometimes but he had never questioned anything. He absolutely feared the day Geralt would realize he wasn’t like other men, because he knew it would happen some day. Maybe Geralt would see him naked and realize what was going on. He would probably then insist that Jaskier was a woman or just straight up leave him behind wherever they were. Or even worse, call him a freak and if he would become violent, well it would not be the first time that would have happened to Jaskier. He had learned this was how it usually went with people. This had been the reason he had run away after his time in Oxenfurt, when his parents had attempted to marry him off. He should probably be thankful he had been allowed to even go to the university.

Often, he thought maybe he should leave on his own accord to spare him from future heartbreak. But then he looked at Geralt and he just didn’t have it in him. He knew it was already too late, he had already fallen very hard for the Witcher. It had already started on the first day they had spent together and it had only gotten worse with every passing day. But right now, he was happy. Even though they would sleep at the side of a road or in a stable more often than not and eat what they found in the woods, he was happy right now with his Witcher. But he could be his true self, he could play his music to crowds in taverns or just for Geralt when they were alone. And he could play what he wanted.

Jaskier loved the more rowdy songs, the drinking songs, the dirty songs and the songs people could dance to. When he had been at home, he had only been allowed to play for a special occasion, maybe a song or two. Just for his parents to show how talented their daughter was. The mere mention of the word daughter made his stomach flip. And he was only allowed to play ballads because that was behaviour befitting for a lady of noble birth.

People could probably argue it was stupid of him to leave behind a life like this, comfortable and full of luxury. But for him it had never been a question. There was no way he could live like this, pretending to be someone he was not for the rest of his life. Getting married to some nobleman, probably being forced to be some obedient housewife. He could never do that. That was why he had run away after he had finished his studies in Oxenfurt.

“You alright?” Geralt asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw a concerned look on the Witcher’s face.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he answered with a smile. He had actually never been better than in the last six months. “Was just thinking.” Geralt grinned at him.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he answered. Jaskier gasped, offended and swatted Geralt’s arm.

“I’ve graduated from Oxenfurt as master of the seven liberal arts. I am highly intelligent,” he explained.

“And still, you’re one of the biggest idiots I know.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You’re traveling with a dangerous Witcher,” Geralt answered and pointed to himself. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“You’re not dangerous,” he scolded him. “You’ve just earned yourself a night of me playing nothing but songs about how great you are,” Jaskier decided and got up to fetch his lute.

When he sat down again, Geralt was looking at him, head cocked and a soft smile on his face. There had been times when Geralt had pretended to hate his singing but he’d given this up months ago. But he was still not a fan of the songs Jaskier had written about him. He could not see himself like this. He wasn’t a hero, a saviour. He had been made to slay monsters, have no emotions and stay away from humans. Jaskier didn’t care as he played and sang and Geralt felt uncomfortably flustered.

Read the rest on AO3

[deadlydelicious]

So i finished season 3.1 of The Witcher...and fuck that was bad.

The whole thing was a meandering mess. Literally parts of it were unwatchable, all that saved it was how bloody good the main cast are.

Like the character dynamics? the found family? the soft friendship? the confirmed bisexual Jaskier? CHEFS KISS

but literally all the actually political plot they were trying to string around it? chaos. and that's not to mention the terrible pacing

I cannot understand how a show can have so much going for it in terms of excellent stars, brilliant characterization, iconic soundtrack, a massive budget, and yet still turn out a season that felt like it was written on the back of a grocery receipt.

Henry, Joey, Anya, and Freya carried it amazingly, but I can see why Henry had chosen to step away, and give some of the atrocious casting choices here (i'm looking at you Robbie Amell), i highly doubt that Liam Hemsworth will actually be able to come across as aythig other than a cheap parody.

for all this whole season was supposed to be about political plotting and intrigue, it felt like they basically just reduced Ciri down to a magical macguffin that no one can actually explain why they want. they just know they're supposed to want her.

Cahir and Fringilla, two of my favorite characters in season 2, here felt like random legacy characters - specifically Fringilla who has gone from a powerful vet vulnerable leader to....a stumbling drunk? The elves too also felt like a hanger on, which is bizarre give how important all 3 were last season

It also suffers from the season 7 GOT problem of 'no travel time needed'. Season 2 spent so much time on the slog of distance and travel, with characters desperately trying to make their way across the continent in safety ad in good time, which added great tension. but here, in a season where we establish Yennifers portals are not usable, it seems they're able to jump around the continent like ping-pong balls.

I think this seasons main problem was a complete lack of drive. Season 1 had 'get Ciri to Geralt', Season 2 had the simmer of getting Yen's magic back and unraveling the mystery of Ciri's power, but Season 3 was just...play magic keepaway with Ciri?- but to the point they never let a single villain get close enough to her to present a real threat.

There was so much of this season that should have been cut, to the point episodes often became mired in a bog of confusing extra plotpoints and character moments that added nothing to the story, except to slow its pace to a crawl. I often found myself literally tuning out from boredom, a problem i never had in season 1 & 2

the decision to split the season like this is also odd as hell, ad speaks to me of total chaos behind the scenes and a lack of faith in their story.

I'll watch the conclusion when it arrives, but honestly this felt like a whimpering death-knell of a once brilliant show

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Carnival

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: No kittens this time, unfortunately, but there's some Mikey, and some fluffy awkwardness, and a plushie.

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike calls to ask if you want to go to the carnival with him...

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Fluff. More swearing. A li'l kissin'. Parents.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @ylva-syverson

“Hey, Sweetcheeks, it’s eh.. It’s Mikey,” you hear on the other side of the line. Of course, it’s Mikey; you saw his face pop up on screen. That, and no one else calls you ‘Sweetcheeks’. And with good reason.

“I knew that when I picked up, Mike, what’s up?” you laugh. He’s so adorably self-conscious and shy from time to time – and then he gets his mouth on you and he turns into a horny mess with even less subtlety than what’s normal for him.

“Ehm. Well, you know… Carnival’s in town,” he says hesitantly. You know it’s a little mean, but you never get to be the confident one in these situations. So yeah, you’re exploiting your position a little.

“Yeah… So…?” You’re biting your lip, waiting for an answer – feeling extra bad for Mike when you hear him take a deep, shaky breath.

“Do you wanna go? With me? Tonight?” he says softly, his voice still shaking.

“Mike?” you laugh. “Our last date was really nice, and I would love to go out with you again.”

Your words seem to relax him a little, because the next time he speaks, it sounds far steadier than before: “Alright! Can you swing by the coffee shop? I get off at four, we can have coffee and then bounce?”

You tell him his plan sounds fantastic, and hang up the phone before pacing to your closet and yanking the doors open. What the hell are you going to wear?

After checking the weather forecast three times, and the temperature outside, you settle on a pair of black shorts and a Stitch t-shirt, with low, neon blue converse sneakers. It’s a carnival, not the MET gala. Of course, right after making that decision, you end up hating it completely, and change seven times to things you hate even more, before putting on the thing you had on in the first place and going: ‘I guess.’ By then, it’s time to leave for the coffee shop, anyway. If you want to make it in time, at least.

“Hey, Sweetcheeks! Got you a cappuccino,” Mike greets you when you walk into the shop. You gratefully take it from him, ignoring Walter, who is rolling his eyes at Mike from behind the counter.

“With oat milk?” you tease. Walter stifles a laugh when he hears you say it.

“Probably,” Mike answers with a grin on his face, “Walt made it.”

“Oh, thank God!” you say as you sit down at your favorite table. Mike sits down next to you and puts an arm around you, which startles you. To distract yourself from the unexpected PDA, you turn to Mike. “How will we get to the carnival?”

“I was planning on taking my car,” he said, before offering to drop you off wherever you needed afterwards. It was a nice offer, and one you were certainly not planning on turning down…

You half expected Mike’s car to be an old pile of rust, but it isn’t. He does admit that the car he drove before this one was slightly older, but some jackass had rearended him in a parking lot, which is why you are now standing in front of a brand-new looking Camry that probably cost twice or more what your car did, instead of a rundown heap of junk. He laughs when you point that out.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Ma’s a vet, you know that. Dad’s a surgeon. They don’t pay for everything, but they very much want me to have my own car.” There’s something about the way he says it and the shit-eating grin on his face that suggests there is more to that argument than simply having him ask for a car all the time…

You’re still in the middle of that thought when Mike gently pushes you aside and reaches for the door handle. Is he really holding this car door open for you?

“Thanks, Mikey,” you say as you get in.

Of course, the first thing Mike does when you get to the carnival is getting himself food – himself, only because you insist you don’t want any; there’s rides to go on and throwing up on Mike’s shoes sounds like just about the most unromantic thing you could possibly do. It surprises you that he doesn’t drag you to the haunted house immediately.

“Can I take your hand?” he mutters quietly after he finishes his snack. For some reason, he doesn’t look at you. Is he avoiding you? No longer interested? Sure, the guy who called you to take you to the carnival and literally just asked if he could hold your hand isn’t interested in you anymore. That’s got to be it. Jesus, someone needs to reboot that brain of yours… “Sweetcheeks?”

Oh, shit! “Eh… Yeah,” you answer, biting your lip as you look at him. He smiles back at you and reaches for your hand. His warm fingers entwine with your freezing ones, and you smile. It feels nice. Innocent and sweet. It brings your mind back to your first date with Mike last week. Not that that was so innocent and… Oh fuck it, yes it was. Probably a little too innocent for him, even. As if he didn’t make it clear enough that he was more than willing to get it on… You’ve spent the entire week feeling like you had ruined your chances, but he kept texting you, so even you figured it couldn’t have been that bad. That said, despite having the upper hand on the shyness-scale this afternoon, you had been beyond ecstatic that he had called. And now he was slowly towing you along to the haunted house. Of course.

You stand still, making Mike stop and turn around, looking at you with a questioning expression. “What’s up, Sweetcheeks?”

“Not a fan of haunted houses,” you admit. You’re definitely one of those people who don’t enjoy being scared. Movies are one thing, but scary clowns jumping out at you in dark rides… That hits different, somehow. In a bad way.

“I’ll protect you.” Mike wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Those rides are never long enough to make out anyway,” you counter. It’s not that you don’t want to kiss him – in fact, you’re absolutely dying to, but maybe not… like that? It seems a little tacky.

“Oh, you’re looking for a place to make out with me?” Mike teases in return. You shake your head while you laugh nervously. He slowly steps closer to you, letting go of your hand and grabbing you by your waist, instead. “Can I get a little kiss?”

He’s all smiles and puppy eyes, it’s impossible to say no to him, so you get up on your toes and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. When you get back down, he looks sad. Maybe a little disappointed, even, but he smirks at you when you tell him that he’s going to have to earn it if he wants more. He thinks things through for a moment, before grabbing your hand again and pulling you along to another stand.

As it turns out, Mike is very good at Skee-Ball, and you’re soon on your way, armed with a brand-new blue and purple reversible octopus plushie that you can’t stop staring at.

“Seriously, thank you, Mikey,” you say for possibly the thousandth time, when he finally puts his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“Stop it,” he says with a bright smile. “I’m just glad you like it.”

“I love it, Mike.” You wrap your arms – octopus and all – around his neck and kiss him, stopping only when some little kid walks by and screams ‘eeeeeew!’ at you, making you both laugh.

“Do you want me to drop you off at home?” Mike asks as you walk back to his car. You’ve had your fill of people and loud music all around you, and with every step away from the chaos, your brain becomes less foggy.

“Unless you have a better idea,” you say carefully, not wanting your date to end just yet, but still wanting to get out of there. Mike actually suggests going back to his place for a bit, and you happily agree.

When you get there, you notice how he says something about his parents’ cars being gone, which means they’re not home. It doesn’t matter much to you, either way, because you’re fairly sure they wouldn’t mind you coming over, anyway – they sure as hell didn’t care much about it last time.

He drags you up the stairs immediately. There’s a note taped to his bedroom door:

          ‘Turtles have been fed, we’re off to dinner.’

“Alright, looks like we have the house to ourselves for a bit,” Mike says as he pushes the door to his bedroom open a little further. Four kittens immediately start screaming in their pen like they’re being murdered, and six cats look at you from his bed as if you’ve just committed the worst crime possible. To be fair, they probably consider ‘waking them up’ a felony…

You watch Mike’s face closely as he rethinks the situation. When he’s made a decision, he – almost – shuts the door and pushes you towards another one.

“They’re never going to leave us alone if we go in there, Sweetcheeks,” he says determinedly, “and I want you all to myself for a bit.”

He ushers you through a door on the other side of the hallway, leading you into a room that must be… Oh, hell no! His parents’ bedroom! Is this a good idea? Probably not, but Mike reassures you that they never have to find out. Of course, that would be the case if you had better luck…

“Michael!” Fuck. The door slams shut again, and you hear the muffled voice of Mike’s mom from outside. “You have thirty seconds to get out here, young man, or else…”

“Not how I saw that going,” Mike mutters as he scrambles to pluck his shirt off the floor. It’s inside out when he puts it on, but there’s not really a lot of time to do anything about that. He picks your shirt up and throws it at you. In your panicked state, it takes you a while to figure out how to put it on, but you eventually manage. When you’re both decent again, Mike grabs your hand and sighs, gesturing at the door.

“What were you thinking?” Mike’s mom yells when you both walk into the hallway. “Not you, sweetheart, I’m talking to this idiot.” She gestures at Mike and rolls her eyes. Her words are only slightly comforting, because this woman – all 4’9” of her – is a little scary.

“Eh, I wasn’t?”

“Evidently,” his father weighs in. “You can drive her home, after that, consider yourself grounded.”

“Grounded? You can’t ground me! I’m in college!” Mike says in disbelief, but his father just raises a dangerous looking eyebrow.

“I can’t believe I fucking got grounded, what am I? Fourteen?” Mike growls when you’re back in his car and he’s driving you home.

“We sure as fuck were acting like it,” you laugh. It’s not really funny, though. You absolutely haven’t recovered from the embarrassment of his parents walking in on you in their bedroom, and now you won’t get to see Mike for three weeks…

“Yeah, well…” he sighs. “I guess you’ll have to come visit me at work.”

[youaremysunshine-court]

OMG WITCHER THOUGHTS

Putting all this under the cut bc its incomprehensible at eh best of times

Yenn writing Geralt letters!!! kdfjdsjfhjdghs i love them so much i love that sh eknows shes done wrong and is trying her best to right it

Jaqskier’s forst scene being him getting thrown out for sleeping aorund. she broke his lute :((((( also wtf is he bi he got sweet talked by a pansy prince...

Geralt being. good. dad. amazing showstopping i love him i want to bite his biceps

yenn-geralt-jask all travelling together and teasing jask my poor little fandom heart! this is the plot of so many fics i have bookmarked lmao

Ciri wanting to do good for the woirld shes such a little muffin i need to protect her

- inserting quick rant here because this thought srtuck me during the split up scene - Geralt isn’t going to be the White Wolf who unites teh nations, as so many fics have suggested. Ciri is (and fair warning all book canon I know is from fics and fandom meta, so i have no idea what the plot actually does, but I have a Feeling about this.) obvy ger’s gonna be there for her and do a lot of the heavy lifitng but shes going to be the reason peace comes to [continent name]

WARRIOR PRINCESS CIRI OMG MY! HEART!

dara... dara! omg its dara what is he doing

Watching Ciri fight and immediately after seeing Geralt decimate them really puts into perspective what a witcher can do, like yes shes strong shes skilled but geralt is just engineered to fight hes on a whole other level when it comes to fighting (also HE USED HIS SIGNS LETS GO))

Geraskier geraskier geraskier send help im melting (Joey batey plays a bi man so well btw, he does the same flick-my-eyes-away-becuase-youre-being-too-sincere-and-im-in-love-with-you thing that I do, also GEralt thanking him made me scream out loud)

PLEASE SAY JASK GOES WITH GERALT TO FIND RIENCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

During the fight scene, I was like oh this seasons soundtrack is going to Fuck and it IS

Geralt being a good dad is really something everyone needs tbh

The interpersonal relationships this season are so so so good, I feel bad for bashing on the last season’s ending, but I’m still withholding judgement until I’ve finished this season, but still yenn-geralt, yenn-ciri, geralt-ciri, geralt-jask, yenn-jask all seem more real this season and more like conversations people would have rather than plot-furthering conversations, I feel like they’ve actually put effort into this season’s emotional value, rather than just plot value yk

it’s fuckign heartbreaking how hes still carrying his broken lute around, idk if its meant to be a metaphor for his emotional wellbeing but im getting that sense from him

Also what the fuck jaskier why would you make decisions for ciri without consulting her or her dad/ You are sending her there to be married off to some fuckface isnt thaty what you ran away from in the first place what the fuck jask,

Wait so are Geralt and Jaskir not travelling together? He said Jaskier was waiting for him in [unspellable city name] but then it looks like he’s saddling up roach alone?

1) is that Cintra? 2) who is that? 3) Doesn’t he know it’s rude to burn someone else’s baby pictures? 4) if they bring in a brother fighting ciri for hte throne plotline I will NOT be happy

[dear-galileo]

take a walk

read on ao3

written for the 2023 @stonerwitcher event :)

no one likes to come home for thanksgiving, especially when the person who raised you was someone like vesemir.

thankfully, the brothers had each other. and some other ways to deal.

eskel & geralt & lambert, brief geralt/jaskier/yennefer, brief aiden/lambert

cw: past child abuse, brief homophobia, recreational drug use

They arrived together. It wasn’t a spoken decision, but an assumed one. Without words, they knew that Geralt would pick Eskel up first from his school, once his last class of the day let out, and then wait for Lambert to weasel his way out of his office job, probably skip a late afternoon meeting, before they made the journey back home. 

Well. Home was a subjective term. Sure, it was where they had all been taken in, and raised, but Geralt doubted that any of them would actually consider the place to be home. Hell, the shitty dorm that Geralt and Eskel shared their freshman year of college was more home to him. 

But, regardless of their feelings of it, they were making the trip back to the house. Back to Vesemir. It was Thanksgiving, and it was understood that the three of them would go to visit him. 

Lambert was struggling with his clothes in the backseat, trying to fight his way out of his button up shirt, complaining about how the collar had been choking him. Eskel, in the passenger seat, was watching this fight with a piece of clothing through the rearview mirror with mild interest. Geralt was content to have all of his focus on the road. 

“They let you have hair like that, in cubicle-land?” Eskel goaded. The hair in question, was wild as always, poofed up from Lambert yanking his half-unbuttoned shirt over his head, was bright red, and sticking out in every direction. Lambert scowled, grabbing a wrinkled t-shirt from his backpack and yanking it over his head. 

“They think I’m fucking adorable there. Janice in HR keeps dropping hints that I’m going to get a promotion, since I’m such a handsome young man.” 

“No shit?” Eskel asked, twisting in his seat. “Congrats, if you do.” Lambert shrugged, already brushing it off. 

“It’s hell, it’s boring, but it pays the bills. Plus, Aiden likes to see me dressed up like a fucking businessman.” He grinned wickedly as both Eskel and Geralt made retching noises. “Who knows. Maybe it will make the old man proud.” 

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the turn signal clicking. Geralt flexed his hands around the wheel as he got onto the highway. He flicked the turn signal off. 

Lambert sighed heavily and obnoxiously, cutting through the sudden tension. “He’ll probably ask if I’m still gay, huh?”

“Probably,” Eskel replied, leaning forward to fiddle with the radio. “I think you could be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and he’d only want to know if you’re dating a nice girl.” Both Geralt and Lambert made small noises of laughter and agreement. “How is Aiden doing?” 

“He’s great. The kids adore him, he’s about to win the teacher of the year, and it’s only his first year.” Lambert bragged. He leaned forward, knocking Geralt on the shoulder. “How are your lovers? Jaskier’s been sending me Breaking Bad memes.” 

“He’s good.” Geralt said, his grip on the wheel loosening. “Yen’s good too. Both kicking ass. Yen’s been asked to speak at a college for an intersectional feminism panel.”

“She’ll probably raise the IQ level of the family just by association.” Lambert joked. Geralt huffed, the corner of his mouth kicking up. “Did ya get rid of the old Roach-mobile?” 

Lambert was referring to the shitty old van that Geralt had bought when he was seventeen. It was disgusting, and old as dirt back then, but Geralt loved that van, and had taken care of it until it ran smoothly. 

“No. This is Yen’s car.” Geralt was almost offended at the assumption that he would ever get rid of Roach. He had poured not only years into that van, but also thousands of dollars. Last year, Yennefer had taken him to a used car lot to get something that, in her words “wasn’t an assault on every sense”, but they had left empty handed. 

“I was wondering why it was so clean,” Eskel commented, running a finger along the dash. “I was also wondering how you would ever be caught dead in a Prius.” 

“Love makes you do crazy things,” Lambert crooned. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” Geralt told his younger brother. Lambert rolled his eyes, but complied. 

Eskel finally found a radio channel that they all could agree with, and put it on at a low volume. 

It took a little over an hour to reach their hometown. Geralt couldn’t help but check on Lambert through the mirror. After their small talk had died down, Eskel had pulled out a small paperback book out of his own bag, and was flipping through, his head leaning against the window. Lambert was alternating between fidgeting in his seat, kicking the back of Eskel’s seat, or messing around on his phone. 

None of them were excited to go back to Vesemir’s house. Though they had all grown up to be somewhat decent men, they hadn’t left behind the kindest household. 

All of them had different relationships with not only the house, but with the man who lived within it. Vesemir had taken them in, when they were completely unwanted, so Geralt felt as though he was owed some credit at the very least. But Vesemir was a cruel man, when he wanted to be. 

It wasn’t until after Geralt started to see both Jaskier and Yen that he ever went to therapy. It was a group effort, championed by both of his partners, but he found it useful, against all of his expectations. It gave him the courage to set boundaries with his adoptive father, and to encourage his brothers to do the same. 

That was why they rarely saw Vesemir anymore. Thanksgiving was the one compromise.

Eskel had escaped first. But Geralt was right on his heels, and they lived in the same dorm room for the first year of college. When Geralt dropped out in their second year, they moved into a tiny apartment off campus, with a pull-out couch for Lambert to crash on during the weekends. By the time that Lambert had graduated high school, he had all but moved into the apartment. Geralt set up a folding screen in the living room, and it acted as Lambert’s bedroom for another six months. 

It was freedom, for all of them. Though they were strapped for money most of the time, and Lambert would invite his high school boyfriend Aiden over almost every night, and Geralt would wake Lambert up every time he went to his 6am shift at a nearby repair garage, and Eskel was drowning in homework more often than not, they were free. 

By the time that Geralt had secured a job with an automobile repair shop with better hours, and better pay, Lambert was getting ready to move in with Aiden (who was getting his teacher’s certificate), and Eskel was almost done with his bachelor’s degree. 

Geralt moved in with Yennefer and Jaskier, in a slightly nicer place a few blocks away. Lambert got an office job downtown and started to climb the ranks, while looking into night classes.

Vesemir never came to visit them. One could claim it was because he was old, and didn’t want to travel from the suburbs into a college town, but the brothers knew that Vesemir couldn’t have cared less. Vesemir had a bone to pick with every one of his kids, and he made sure to drill it into them from a young age that it was the boys who were at fault, not him. 

So as they grew older, the expected winter break and holiday visits lessened, until the only one that remained was Thanksgiving. 

None of the brothers complained about that.

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[fangirleaconmigo]

My problem with s2 arc for Yen is that all the things you beautifully described that makes Yen Yen were undone by her betrayal. They spend the first half of the season to show us that Yen is more than her magic, she didnt even need magic to win a powerful mage but then with two simple soldiers she's powerless and needs baba yaga and then at no point she can outsmart voleth meir? She didn't even had her in a spell or anything, it was simple: do that and get your power back and at no point Yen, after meeting Geralt and Ciri, couldn't fight it? That makes her weak, the opposite of what the first episodes showed us and we know that Yennefer is. Also the fact that she showed her good heart with everyone in s2 but the two people that were supposed to mean everything in the world for her, is imo the ultimate book Yen betrayal from the writers. Maybe they'll work on that in s3, maybe now i'm mad with the writers and I don't have the patience to see where this is going but I doubt they are talented enough to write a great original story so to deviate from the book to give us this makes me angry. And her sacrifice at the end didn't felt genuine for some reason (bad writing). And I still wonder why, show Yen - like every character in the show - was different from book Yen in s1 too but she was so well written, you could feel everything she felt but that was gone in s2. Lauren said that they didn't know what to do with Yen in s2 and that was shown. Hopefully now that in s3 they have a clearer idea of her story they'll do better. Sorry for the rant and I hope I didn't bother you a lot.

No, nonny, you didn't bother me at all.

Can you guys tell I'm catching up on asks?

This was in response to my post on how TWN S2 treated the women characters. It was mostly positive, with a few critical things.

Again, since there is critique in it (along with the praise, it is balanced) I'm going to tag twn critical.

PLEASE MUTE TWN CRITICAL IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE

Yes, even though I loved a lot of Yen's story, I agree that the Voleth Meir and Ciri decision didn't work.

It wasn't about them changing Yen from canon (tho that hurt), it was about their own story not working. For me, Yen's Voleth Meir decision, to bring Ciri to her and endanger Ciri (changing her mind too late), was in conflict with the first part of her development, and that is part of why it didn't work for me.

For example, they show you Yen upset and wanting her magic back because she sees a little girl being taken and she is powerless to help her.

So, the narrative is establishing that she does care and she does want to help, and she wants to protect little girls SO MUCH that she wants her magic back.

So. Then. If at least part of her motivation is her anguish that little girls are being harmed, how does that follow that she almost throws a little girl to Voleth Meir to get her power back? It doubles back on itself. It wants to have its cake and eat it too, so to speak.

It isn't IMPOSSIBLE to get there but it's thematically weak storytelling for me.

You know how some story telling and character development is thematically so cohesive and you completely understand why they do what they do to the point where it's almost tragic sometimes because you're like...that decision is bad, but I know where that character comes from and what their flaws are, so I know this is almost inevitable? You know how you get like a rush from storytelling that good?

That just wasn't it for me.

I'm with you on that one.

And I also agree that they have gone out of their way to develop Yen as someone who, when faced with an A) and B) choices, says "Actually, I'll take F) for Fuck you" and I love that, that is exactly who she is, but then her Voleth Meir decision didn't fit that either.

It just felt jammed in. And yeah, I don't think it's possible to undo and get the relationship we would want between them, at least not in a way that is satisfying and authentic.

But I will be watching, and we shall see. I want them to do my Yenny boo right ffs.