#not gonna tag the third one since it would be impolite to his fans

[kendrixtermina]

Tl; Dr re: Azure Gleam

As far as I’m concerned, Edelgard died at Arianrhod. There was nothing meaningfully left of her in that vacated meat puppet. She’s dead in every way that matters (& everything is worse off for that). & if I hear one more person being like “Finally all 3 survived” i will strangle them myself.

That said, the ppl who are getting into moralistic tiffs, reading all sorts of implications into it & throwing around loaded terminology here should chill & realize that this is not a statement about them but simply a story that is not about you or even anything real / where some of the endings are bad.   

Also, Dimitri is arguably a worse leader than in (the last third) of Azure Moon. He basically got influenced by his conservative old retainers because he’s weak-willed doesnt have any real vision. 

In AM you could forgive him for not being in his right mind during the worst moments but here is he is outright chosing the status quo because Divine Right Of Kings (which is 100% consistent with how he acts pre-snapping in White Clouds, tho.)

Arguably the outcome would have been undeniably better in every possible way if he had just not taken Rhea in/ not chosen to join the war. The unrest he wanted to prevent by doing so happens anyways. 

Mind you, Dimitri is obviously a good person - sincere, well-intentioned, caring in theory about equality etc. he’s just a bad politician. which would not be any sort of moral failingin and of itself, but matters a lot if youre arguing that he should be running the landmass. 

All useful things were pretty much done by Claude (who its heavily implied might be planning to backstab the kIngdom & Church once the dust is settled)

The implementation of the emotional beats were done better in the OG game but I don’t think anyone was OOC. 

it basically confirmed a lot of what i said from the first - dimitris an incrementalist/traditionalist, anselma was evil hes just in denial etc. (which im glad they confirmed cause it would be too ridiculous that the king couldnt ever be alone with his wife) plus the way that Dimitri tended to see her through rose colored glasses sounded so much like an abused kid in denial. 

I really liked the relationship between Shez and Rodrigue though. 

im not mad about it, it makes sense that this happened for this au scenario. but in-universe its a negative, nothing-changes outcome worse than azure moon or even silver snow, even if the kingdom & alliance stay allied. At least in azure moon rhea steps down & dimitri invents constitutional monarchy. 

[thearvariblues]

So, About The Pockets...

The third and final part of my little “Jaskier is obsessed with pants” series. I’m sorry to say that this part doesn’t really focus on the pants or Jaskiers, uhm... unorthodox fashion research. But it’s there, I promise.

You should definitely read part 1 and part 2 before this one.

Tagging  @lottelorelei, @likecastle, @stinastar and @kalikatze, because you might want to read the last part, too. :D

*

“I’m feeling kind of nervous about meeting Jaskier this spring,” Geralt says to the man who’s walking with him through the streets of Oxenfurt.

“Finally grew some balls and decided to ask the bard to rearrange your insides?” his companion smirks. “I swear, Geralt, if you don’t offer your ass to him, I will have to sacrifice mine.”

“Lambert!” Geralt groans.

“What? Poor boy apparently didn’t fuck a Witcher last year.”

“Because I asked him not to. Well, not to fuck any Wolves, at least.”

“Jealous prick.”

“The worst thing is, he really didn’t! Or so it seems,” Geralt sighs.

“I can see the problem. He’s a fucking idiot.”

Geralt grunts.

“And what are you doing here, anyway? Sticking around just to annoy the shit out of me?”

“Meeting a friend,” Lambert smiles.

“A friend? You?” Geralt blinks, pausing. “Another?!”

“You make it sound like some sort of a miracle. I assure you, I’m fully capable of making friends.”

“Hm,” Geralt nods. “And this friend, he’s a… what? Another Witcher?”

“He’s a… bard.”

“A bard.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Lambert frowns.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe a single word.”

“I don’t believe a single word,” Geralt smirks. “So what’s his name?”

“Aid… Fuck,” Lambert grunts.

“So, Aiden. Now tell me, Lambert, this wouldn’t happen to be the Aiden I helped you avenge last autumn, would it?”

“No. It’s a completely different Aiden.”

“Am I really supposed to believe that you found two friends, both named Aiden, and both willing to put up with your bullshit?”

“In my defense,” Lambert says, grumpily kicking a nearby stone, “I really thought he was dead when I asked you for help. Met him like… a week after you and I parted ways afterwards. Thought I finally managed to turn my brain into mush with all the drinking, but it turned out that Cats really do have nine lives. He lost an eye and tends to mess up his signs a lot, but nobody’s perfect, eh? And hey, turns out that Igni works against pretty much everything.”

“And you didn’t tell me for the whole winter because…”

“Because you’d probably kick me down from the balcony?”

“Damn right I would,” Geralt growls. “So where’s this Aiden of yours?”

“Don’t know. Somewhere here in the city.”

Geralt stops dead in his tracks, gaping at Lambert.

“Here? In Oxenfurt?!” he asks. “With Jaskier?!”

“Well, he needed a safe place to spend the winter, and you know Vesemir isn’t a fan of Cats,” Lambert shrugs. “Come on, it’s a big city. I’m sure they haven’t even met each other. The city’s still standing, after all.”

“You don’t understand. Jaskier–”

Geralt doesn’t even get to finish the sentence when he sees a young man leap from the window of a nearby building and land with a perfect roll that only comes with years and years of practice.

“Melitele’s tits,” he mutters under his breath while making sure his pants are properly fastened. “Nobody’s ever told you it’s impolite not to let a man finish?!”

“Hey, Geralt,” Lambert snorts. “Found your bard.”

Jaskier, hearing his words, turns his head and beams at the Witchers.

“Geralt! Lambert! So nice to see you! Would one of you mind Yrdening the fucking door for me?”

“I swear to Melitele, Jaskier, one day I am going to let you suffer the consequences of your actions,” Geralt smirks, stepping closer to the door and using the sign on them. “How was your winter?”

“Very amusing,” Jaskier smiles just as the doorknob rattles uselessly. “How about yours?”

“Drafty,” Lambert says. “Hey, you didn’t happen to see Aiden, did you?”

“Aiden?” Jaskier repeats, his eyes darting over to the door of a tavern on the other side of the road. “Well, that’s quite a funny story, actually…”

There is a loud crash from within the tavern, followed by a roared: “Cheating Witcher scum!”

The door open and a lean blond man with an eye patch over his right eye runs out, looking around frantically.

“Jaskier!” he yells when he spots the bard. “We need to go. Now!”

“Did you try to Axii your way out of cheating again, kitty?” Lambert smirks, takes a few steps forward and casts an Yrden on the door.

“Lambert!” Aiden yells and throws his arms around Lambert’s neck. “You’re here, puppy!”

“So what did you cast?” Lambert smirks, hugging him tightly.

“Aard. Not that bad.”

“It’s better than the Yrden last week,” Jaskier comments. “The guy really wasn’t happy about having to spend the night in his seat. And there was, of course, the tiny incident with Valdo Marx and Igni two days before that…”

“I’m sure they haven’t even met each other. The city’s still standing, after all. Well, what a fucking miracle,” Geralt snorts, turning to Lambert, only to realize that he is currently kissing Aiden passionately. “Oh, fuck. Jaskier?”

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier smiles.

“They’re not just friends, are they?”

“What gave you the clue?” the bard chuckles.

The shutters on a window of a house Jaskier was running away from crash open and an angry man starts to climb out, even though he can barely fit through.

“Uhm, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news…” Geralt starts, but then Jaskier grabs his hand and he promptly shuts up.

“Yes,” the bard nods. “We’d better fucking run.”

*

Jaskier puffs out his chest and frowns at the fat man in front of him – the man who, as Geralt realizes, was the one climbing out of the window of the house where Geralt met Jaskier about an hour ago, right before their hurried escape to Jaskier’s rooms in the university buildings.

“Are you suggesting, my dear sir,” Jaskier says in his best offended noble voice, “that I, a respectable professor at this university, have, as you said yourself, canoodled with your wife?”

“I saw you. With my own eyes!” the man growls.

“Impossible. I spent my afternoon here, with my dear friend Geralt of Rivia. Is that true, Geralt?”

“Hm,” Geralt nods solemnly, trying not to spit out his wine.

“But this… friend of yours was there, too!” the man tries.

Jaskier gasps for breath and places a hand on his chest dramatically.

“Did you…” he whispers. “Did you just dispute the words of Geralt of Rivia, the mighty White Wolf himself? My dear sir, this man is a Witcher! The legendary savior! Slayer of bruxas…”

“Bruxae,” Geralt murmurs.

“… strigas…”

“Didn’t actually kill the striga.”

“… ghouls…”

“There’s really nothing exciting about those.”

“… and… and nekkers…”

“Every respectable Witcher wants to be known as a slayer of fucking nekkers.”

“And drowners!” Jaskier yells after the man who’s already turned on his heel and left.

“I see you’re running our of monsters again,” Geralt chuckles when Jaskier slams the door shut.

“Oh, shut up,” Jaskier mutters, sits into his armchair and grabs his goblet of wine. “Did I get rid of him or not?”

“You annoyed him into leaving, yes,” Geralt nods. “That, or he realized that Witchers tend to have two very big and sharp swords.”

“And I have three Witchers,” Jaskier smiles just as they both hear Lambert’s high-pitched scream from the next room.

“Sweet Melitele. How much longer is it going to take them?”

“Come on, Geralt. They didn’t see each other for the whole winter.”

“I didn’t see you for the whole winter, and you don’t hear me moaning your name like a cheap whore.”

“Yes, and isn’t that a shame?”

Geralt nearly chokes on his wine.

“What?” he wheezes.

“Nothing, dear,” Jaskier says quickly and gets back to his feet to refill their goblets.

“Hm…” Geralt hums, cocking his head. “Are those new pants?”

“They are. Thank you for noticing.”

“What happened to the tighter ones?”

“An accident,” Jaskier sighs. “I keep saying it, yours are only held together by some sort of dark magic!”

“They aren’t.”

“Fine, is it Quen, then? Are you constantly Quenning your fucking pants?”

“I am definitely not Quenning my pants, no.”

“Then explain how it’s possible that your mighty ass doesn’t rip them in half!”

“I don’t know. I suppose you will have to take a look at them yourself.”

“Geralt, I’ve been looking at your pants ten times a day ever since I met you, I don’t think one more look will change… What are you doing?”

Geralt downs the rest of his wine and stands up.

“I was thinking about a… closer look,” he murmurs. “I mean… for research purposes, of course.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier says, his eyes going wide. “Are you seriously suggesting… what I think you’re suggesting?”

“That there is one Wolf Witcher you haven’t fucked yet, yes.” For someone who’s just a little taller than Jaskier, Geralt is sure good at towering above the bard. “So if you wanted…”

“For research purposes, yes?” Jaskier asks as he wraps his arms around Geralt’s waist. “I should warn you, though. I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be a very thorough research. Probably gonna take at least a year.”

Geralt smirks and brings their lips so close together that they almost – but only almost – touch.

“Works for me,” he murmurs right before Jaskier kisses him.

*

“Did you know Cat Witchers have pockets on their pants?” Jaskier asks much later, when they’re lying side by side in his bed, naked and satisfied.

“Mhm,” Geralt hums because he was just about to fall asleep. “That’s nice.”

“I mean, not for me, they would absolutely ruin my silhouette, obviously,” Jaskier continues. “But for you, they might be quite handy, right?”

“Did you… Did you have to research with Aiden to find out?”

“Well, yes. You see, winter nights tend to get boring,” Jaskier grins. “But fret not, dear heart, you won’t have to spend the rest of your life protecting me from your angry brother. They have quite an open relationship.”

“Bold of you to assume that I would protect you,” Geralt sighs, burying his face in Jaskier’s chest.

“I know you will always protect me, dear,” Jaskier smiles and presses a kiss in Geralt’s hair. “So, about the pockets...”

“Tomorrow. I want to sleep.”

“But you promised I could take a look at your pants.”

“Mhm, I didn’t specify when, though. So shut up and let me sleep.”

“Geralt...” Jaskier whines.

“Jaskier,” Geralt chuckles.

“Ugh, fine. But I like you a lot less now, I hope you’re aware of that.”

“I’ll make it up to you. In the morning. I might even be willing to go with you to that tailor of yours.”

“Really?”

“Really. But first I have to ask Aiden about the… pockets thing…”

Geralt falls asleep, snoring slightly, even though he’s assured Jaskier a million times that Witchers absolutely do not snore.

“Knew you were gonna like that idea,” Jaskier smiles and closes his eyes. “Good night, my dear Wolf.”

“Hmmm…”

*

The next morning, Jaskier grins at the tiny tailor who’s studying Geralt’s pants with interest while the Witcher just stands there with his ass barely covered by his shirt.

“Truly an excellent bottom.”

“I can see that,” the man grins back.

“You are so,” Geralt snarls, “so paying for this, bard.”

“Oh, my dear,” Jaskier laughs. “With pleasure.”