#gweld

[inexplicifics]

Hi inex! For the cozy fall prompts, can you do gweld/serrit and "unexpected family gathering"? Either gweld's or serrit's family!

This one's a little long for tumblr, so it's HERE on AO3! During a brief quiet interlude on the Path, Gweld gets to meet Serrit's brothers.

[jay-arts-t]

First Love

[inexplicifics]

Oooooh yes.

the classic "are you hurt?" but the whumpee is the one saying it. slurring the words through a hoarse throat and numbed lips, their eyes are glazed and their hands are shaking, frantic at the blood soaking the caretaker's shirt and too delirious to realize it's all their own.

[b1odeuwed]

fucking love the welsh phrase “ych a fi” as an expression of disgust. i dont even know if you can translate it. yuck doesn’t come close to shouting YCH A FIIIIIIII at something you think is gross

[blooms-in-april]

Of all the weirdly specific things to hallucinate about, my fangirl ass has been lucid daydreaming about a Witcher West Side Story where Lambert is Tony, Aiden is Maria, the rumble is the treasonous tournament between the Cat and Wolf schools, and America is a sung by Guxart (as Anita) and the Dyn Marv caravan cat witchers about how much they enjoy getting away from Stygga castle.

[flxwer-prince]

they should create more images of Evelyn so I could look at her more

[starg1rl-123]

The what

haven't seen the anyone upload the best video of the welsh holiday horse skull yet

[brooklynislandgirl]

@gweld-angylion {{this open starter}} In the grand scheme of things, Beth knows that she's often mistaken at first glance for a child; barely five feet tall, not even a hundred pounds soaking wet and in full winter gear, and she does have a penchant for brightly coloured scarves and blue, shark-patterned wellies. And trudging her way toward the subway, half-asleep on her feet after a gruelling sixteen hour shift? She might not have been paying as much attention as she could have. So when she gets yanked backwards, it takes a moment to find her footing with any sort of grace. Her coffee goes flying from her hand and splatters over the sidewalk ~free of snow and ice~ to steam forlornly like some Rorschach blot. Startled into alertness, Beth doesn't try to yank her arm away from her would be rescuer, instead only staring up at him with wide green eyes and perhaps a lingering trace of mourning for the lost caffeine. "I s'pose I should say... mahalo? Uhm, unless you intend t' mug me in which case, I'll gladly hand ovah my purse, no need t' t'reaten violence."

[damienstoker]

((Because I feel like this is never said enough to OC writers: I really love how much you have poured into Damien. He's actually really interesting, and I appreciate all of your information.))

unprompted kindness

this is actually so kind of you to say. thank you for noticing how much work i put in to flesh damien out. i am more than grateful for the kind words and i'm hella lucky to write with my talented mutuals who continuously inspire me.

[artistsfuneral]

a/b/o, but for once the story is actually about the beta

big no progrom pack with Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Gweld and Gardis and Aubry and Clovis

with Lambert still being the youngest of their pack, a beta (thank fuck) who they all say matches really nicely with their scent

Lambert, fresh out of presentation (still changed his body, still felt weird and intrusive and absolutely exhausting, even without it ending in a heat or rut) just goes with it - surely they know what they're talking about

so Lambert is pack. he sits with them, eats with them, trains with them and shares a den (not his bed, he needs his own bed) with them

and nobody really explains anything to him? do they just assume that he knows what to do?? have Gweld and Gardis instinctively know what to do once they presented as betas? then, why doesn't he know what to do??

why does it feel so wrong?

cue Lambert, during his pack's heat cycle, feeling more like a handmaiden than a pack member. when Gweld and Gardis care for their omegas, they're rewarded with bright smiles and soft kisses, when Lambert does he gets a 'good job'? when Gweld and Gardis care for their alphas, they're hugged and scented and when Lambert does he gets a pat on the shoulder?

do they even want him there?

it feels obvious that they do not. so after their cycle is over he walks out on them (hates that his instincts won't let him leave while they're still at it, while he still can work for them) and doesn't look back

two years later he finds himself in Tretogor of all places, chewing through a stale piece of bread that seriously has seen better days but was half off at the market, while watching a newly mated alpha omega pair making eyes at each other

and he just- he feels his pack bond breaking and he cries, silent tears running down his face while he eats a piece of bread that suddenly tastes so much worse

Meanwhile Madison is grappling with the fact that not every issues can be settled by committee

meanwhile six other witchers are going absolutely nuts over the fact that they feel the bond to their youngest, sweetest, grumpiest pack member fading away

this is how things went from their perspective:

they're litter mates, close knit and seemingly perfectly balanced: two alphas, two omegas, two betas

and then - decades later - they scent a new pack mate and it's that one guy, only surviver of his cohort, half-feral, spicey, grumpy Lambert

he doesn't really fit a beta's usually calm, softspoken demeanor, but they don't care, because he fits their pack so well, they never knew how much they needed him until they met Lambert

immune to their omegas' charm and their alphas' dominance, Lambert does what Gweld and Gardis would never be bold enough to do

he openly berates them when they're being stupid, always saying out loud what he thinks, doesn't cower in front of the alphas and neither is too soft with their omegas

but

but he never initiates anything that could be interpreted as more than just friendly, sleeps in his own bed, doesn't seem to like prolonged contact and not once has asked for anything during their heat cycle

they just assumed Lambert wasn't interested. because he's always so up front with everything else, surely he'd just say something, right?

wrong. and they realize that as soon as he vanishes right after they calm down from their latest cycle - "I thought he just stepped out for a moment, what do you mean he's gone?!"

and for two years he doesn't return to Kaer Morhen and the pack grows morw and more worried

and then they feel their bond to him fail

and all hell breaks loose

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Oooh, was it this post?

Because I saw this on FB the other day and was like "this is SO many Witcher couples"

Lambert and Aiden: in some couples it's 'opposites attract' and in others, well....

in others, they are cut from exactly the same cloth.

Does anyone, even Witchers, need that many knives? 

~Inspired by that post that went around a little while back that was along the lines of 'when you are undressing with your partner and the pair of you end up with a pile of knives bigger than the pile of clothes' by the end, or something to that effect. It reminded me so strongly of these guys that I had to make this!

[inexplicifics]

Gweld coaxes Serrit into attending a village festival. It goes...surprisingly well, if also very surprisingly in general.

[jay-arts-t]

I require Gweld and Geralt content those motherfuckers were gay as hell. EXCHANGING MEDALLIONS? That’s a wedding ceremony sorry. It really went

Gweld: hey I know we’re like, maybe gonna die tomorrow so let’s get married real quick.

Geralt: yeah okay :)

[on-a-lucky-tide]

A young, horny Lambert sets his sights on an older hunk of Witcher beef. CW: age gap, flirtation.

"I'm going for it."

"Lambert, don't be a fucking idiot. They'll laugh at you."

"They might, but he won't. You miss all the chances you don't take, right?"

"Your funeral."

Lambert licked his lips and smoothed his hair back as he stood. He hadn't torn his eyes away from his mark for a single second since said man had swaggered into the hall a few hours before. This was the winter he'd do it. He was a man himself now, which meant he had every chance of bagging himself the hunk of good-lookin' he'd been coveting from the moment his dick had started getting hard at night and hair had appeared on his jaw.

Eskel.

It wasn't just that Eskel had two decades on Lambert or that he was becoming a seasoned witcher. No other Witcher in the keep compared. Sure, some tried. They might step toe to toe during drills or try to outflame Eskel's igni, but they never could. The only one that outmatched Eskel was his pale shadow, Geralt. They even looked a little similar. But cream puff was a fucking bean pole of a man, and that shitty headband...

N'aw, Lambert wanted big. He wanted heat, and honey eyes, and that thatch of dark hair he'd seen on Eskel's barrelled chest in the baths, and that huge fucking d--

"You lost, Lambert?"

Lambert blinked. Gweld, the ginger prick, was frowning at him, ale tankard halfway up to his mouth. The others had paused their card game; Clovis looked drunk, Geralt was slouched back trying to see Clovis' hand and Eskel was watching Lambert speculatively.

Watching, with those honey-coloured eyes that turned Lambert inside out. The words caught in Lambert's throat; shit, fuck, why was he so fuckin' stupid the moment Eskel looked at him?

He took a breath, conscious of Clovis elbowing Gweld with a chuckle, while Geralt looked over with a smirk.

Lambert found his words. He folded his arms, thrust his chest out, widened his stance and put on his best cocky smirk. "Was just wonderin' whether Eskel wanted some better company. You losers can't handle your beer at the best of times."

They laughed. Gweld elbowed Eskel who cocked a half smile, eyes rolling not at Lambert, but his friends, proving Lambert's point. Obviously.

"Is that right?" Geralt asked, amusement turning his narrow face bright with a toothy grin. Lambert had been told that as witchers matured they honed their sense of smell, could identify a man's emotions from his body language, the flush in his skin. Lambert knew Geralt had him sussed. "And what kinda company are you offering?"

"Geralt..." Eskel growled in warning, and it went straight to Lambert's groin. Fucking hells.

"Whatever he wants. I'm a man of many talents."

More laughter--"little man has game, shit; fuck, I'm chokin, too funny"--but Lambert wasn't put off. Eskel's eyes were on him, warming him like the sun. The lines around those eyes were wrinkled with mirth, and damn if that smile wasn't snatching the breath right out of Lambert's chest.

"Does your master know you're out?" Eskel asked, placing his cards face down. He leaned back in his chair and slung his elbow onto the back of it, knee turned out while a hand tapped at his drink.

Lambert tried to keep his eyes level and resist the urge to... look. Eskel's codpiece put on an absolutely fucking heroic effort, but it could only hide so much and that was when Eskel was soft. "What he don't know can't hurt him. No business of his who else is in my bed as long as I am."

Eskel pressed his lips together to smother his smile while the others guffawed. More was said but Lambert didn't really hear; he was too focused on keeping his heart from beating out his chest and appearing suave.

Eskel hummed. "Aren't you a little young to be lookin' for that kinda fun?"

"Worried you won't be able to keep up, old man?" Lambert felt momentum. He could do snark, he could meet Eskel on this well worn ground, toe to toe, and the way Eskel's head tilted to the side and his eyebrow rose. It wasn't a no, right? He looked interested. Amused, but he didn't dismiss Lambert outright.

Gweld slapped Eskel on the shoulder with a bark. "Eskel here's got stories that'd make your balls shrivel up into yer belly, lad. I don't think he's a good choice for yer first ride, best drop your ambitions."

"Fuck off, Gweld," Eskel said, but there was no heat to his words. Just wry amusement.

Geralt snorted into his drink and Clovis made a vulgar gesture with his hand, but before Lambert could respond a familiar voice barked through the hall and sucked all the building sexual tension into a vacuum. "Lambert, get your arse to bed, you missed roll call!"

Lambert clenched his teeth, shoulders lifting towards his ears. For fuck's sake...

Three of the witchers in front of him groaned in mock empathy. "Oof, tough break, Lambino. Cock blocked by Vesemir," Gweld said, shaking his head while Geralt and Clovis snickered. "Don't worry, we've all been there. Ain't that right, Gerbear?"

Geralt guffawed in protest and smacked Gweld on the shoulder. It quickly devolved into a wrestling match on the floor, one which Gweld was definitely going to lose. Eskel watched them briefly before he looked back at Lambert. "Another time perhaps," he said, toasting Lambert with his ale. "G'wan, before he decides the target dummies are a little light on straw."

Lambert grunted, frustrated, but stalked away. He'd made inroads, and the way Eskel's eyes had shone, and that crooked grin. Eskel hadn't outright rejected him, hells, he'd--well, that smile... Eskel didn't smile at everyone like that.

Lambert laid in bed with that smile behind his eyes and a hand under the sheets, determined that it would be Eskel's instead of his own by winter's end.

[angiethewitch]

gweld rhai madarch 👍

[llyfrenfys]

A oes unrhyw un eisiau gweld y gath welais i heddi? / Anyone want to see a cat I saw today?