#silly little witcher au

[inanoldhousewrites]

thinking about Geralt and Jaskier being best friends in highschool and neither of them exactly knows what their orientation is, but they both know that if the other was interested in them they would go for it, but since neither of them is 'out' neither of them says anything. and after graduation they go to separate colleges and drift apart.

Then years later they meet at a pride event and they're both wearing bi flags and as soon as they see each other, all their old feelings come rushing back. They go home together that night, move in together the next month and are engaged by the end of the year.

[astarab1aze]

Taro's Wishlist

a thread exploring the intricacies of nightfolk circuses and nightmarkets, particularly where it pertains to what nightfolk personally view as 'freakish' or acrobatically talented

a plot in which two lovers work to save the world together, be they 'chosen ones' or just a pair who took it upon themselves to do the hard work because it's the right thing to do, or maybe they're selfish and have ulterior motives

spice thread where it's essentially 'i'm so glad you're safe and alive' sex. there's a certain vulnerability in the relief and terror of barely managing to survive a given set of circumstances, and when those walls come crashing down? chef kiss

magic school shenanigans, falling in love in class, doing classwork together, stopping an evil mage from ruining everything for everyone else unu friendly competition and skipping class to makeout in the neverending staircase--

the muzzling and taming of mr loux garo, or his imprisoning at the triangulary and summary magical draining to then being tossed into the flesh-warden Additional Body Parts pile. break the poor dear out of prison!

vayn getting his very own knight in shining armor, perhaps literally. the classic prince and his knight trope, really. vayn deserves a storybook romance

thread where someone witnesses furie being possessed by mausza at least once

cyberpunk sunjatta. that's it, that's the idea

a full and complete exploration of viostra as both a barren wasteland and a crumbling ruin riddled with the undead and hallmark scars of a war unending - perhaps with hydre, since he's the one who condemned viostra to its fate

royal ball type thread where faith, the poor boy from the cathouse in purrna, gets to wear a gorgeous gown and meet a handsome man (who happens to be a prince) at the ball hosted by the eternal duchess of aefre - cinderella au sksksk

any plot in which my muses die or are severely wounded, those are fun

magical cave diving with viresca

a day in the life of average kirati citizens thread, maybe there's a tour and a deep dive into kirati culture, good food, grisly hunting trophies, the noticable presence of spider witchers at one of the inns--

life at the zurine university in zuri

single dad au for kaede, in which he and his daughter saki move to the countryside to start a new life far and away from the shikabane - spirited away shenanigans ensue

mecha/airship/paranormal/zombie/cyberpunk horror au, maybe shared universe? super weird mashup, but i have big brain ideas

some kind of s.pace d.andy/redline-esque thread

a grand, dark high fantasy epic built ground-up on vagueries and bad old english, serious undertones, dark symbolism & subtext, maybe get a little grimdark with it in the f.ear & h.unger kind of way - how does one handle a meatgrinder? two heads are better than one, but will they survive?

no magic/powers au, just. people.

loux getting cursed and transformed into the shape of a rat or some other such small animal, helping whomsoever is willing to help him out navigate traps, puzzles, and the like, then rewarding their efforts with a tungskin potion and a salacious remark

dad loux. dad kaede. dad hydre. dad mharra, because he's the kind of guy that would just- soften, utterly, and that temper would never again flare.

bear and bee thread, where muses get to spend the weekend at a meadery run by bears and bees complete with silly gimmicks and decor

faith getting take care of someone, anyone, in the fashions he knows how

asuka's friends visiting them in the hospital after their kidnapping

oblivion-esque mage's guild questline. i'm serious

fifth element au

corny, melodramatic rescue mission thread

hydre talking to x muse all the while subjecting the world to an icy death, pontificating pretentiously upon mortal morality and what is well and truly evil vs a consequence of natural processes

dates >:/ dates to the aquarium, midnight strolls, evenings out at the orchestra, vacations, dates at home where the muses cook together, watch movies, netflix and chill together, take baths and think about their lives, giggle over boxed wine or shots of moonshine

kaede getting to live his dream as a rock musician, classic guy meets guy

thread where everyone hits tethis with verbal low blows - he is not a good person

king keres, as the nightfather intended

muses getting srunk down to bug size and meeting the pygmy fey

[asnowfern]

Losing My (Gear)Head For You

Summary: With an icy glare at the cocky smirk gracing the male’s face, she rotates on her heels to stalk back to her car, acutely aware of the hushed whispers that follow her.

Racing is a mind game and her opponent just played his first move.

It’s her turn now. ~~~ OR a rival street racer Nessian AU

Rating: M, for Nessian being Nessian😏 WC: 2.6k Listen to Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa by FINNEAS for the vibes✨ Read on AO3

Happy Birthday my darling @witch-and-her-witcher!!! 🎉 🎁 Thank you for being such an amazing and supportive friend! I just want to say I feel so blessed to have you in my life and I appreciate you so much💜 I hope you have the loveliest day ahead (as you deserve)! Please enjoy this little silly, fun AU!

Huge thanks to the always awesome @wilde-knight for the quick beta-read💕

Read under the cut!

The silver car door swings open and the chatters de-crescendos into murmured whispers. The faint scent of car exhaust permeates the cool mountainous air and Nesta has to resist the urge to scrunch up her nose in disdain. Even in the many years she has participated in the battles, she has never truly adapted to the smell. 

She ignores the wide eyed looks though a part of her sniffs in disapproval.  

The crowd, the noise, the girls. They are too much for an underground street race like this. Far too likely to gather unwanted attention from the local authorities. Yet, she knows the reason for the enchanted audience today. 

She gives the organiser a curt nod. Azriel’s lips curls slightly, “Welcome back, Nesta.” 

“Some welcome,” she sighs, jerking her head at the whispering enthusiasts at the side of the curb, “these idiots are going to get us caught.” 

“It’s all taken care of.” He says dismissively. His eyes spark in amusement as he looks over her shoulders. “Your competitor on the other hand.” 

Nesta doesn’t have to turn. The hulking presence eclipsing her in its shadow and the sudden increase in excited high pitch whispers speak for themselves. She bites back a sigh. 

“Lady D,” he greets as his shoulder brushes against hers with the lightest pressure, his voice dripping in a cocky swagger. 

The spot where clothed muscles made contact warms uncomfortably and Nesta clenches her jaws in annoyance. She twists around to return coolly, “Cassian.” 

Cassian, otherwise known as the Lord of Bloodshed for his uncanny ability to mercilessly cut his way through any race course, however perilous, grins widely. The top half of his hair is tied back in a bun, framing the strong cut of his jawline. Hazel pupils gleam bright as a feline predator. They pull blue grey eyes upwards to meet them, like a rising tide gravitating to the moon. Nesta notes the new thin scar that cuts through his left eyebrow and banishes the urge to trace it with her fingers. 

“It’s been a while.” He says lightly.

She angles her head in acknowledgment. “I’ve been away for work but I’m back now.”

He hums noncommittally and for a moment, a look Nesta can’t quite identify flashes across his face. Almost soft, tender? It is gone in the next, replaced with a familiar casual lopsided smile. He sticks out a broad hand. “Good race?”

Nesta slips her hand into the grip. His skin is surprisingly soft despite the rough calluses that litter the top of his palms. “May the best racer win.” 

Before she is able to release her hand, her opponent yanks her hand inwards, pulling her weight into a hard and massive chest with a soft thud. A few paces away, the cloud of murmurs dissipate. Hot breath tickles the shell of her ear, “May the best racer win.” 

Heat rushes to her face and Nesta drops the hand like hot coal, scowling as she draws herself back, her spine straight and rigid. With an icy glare at the cocky smirk gracing the male’s face, she rotates on her heels to stalk back to her car, acutely aware of the hushed whispers that follow her. 

Racing is a mind game and her opponent just played his first move.

It’s her turn now. 

***

Nesta’s S2K purrs, coming to life with a single rotation of her car keys. A single ignition that lights up both engines: the vehicle and her.

She follows the hand signs of the marshal and pulls up side by side with the bright red WRX. She runs her palms down the circumference of the wheel, her lips flicking upwards. Her eyes remain trained on the raised hands, her feet a light touch on the pedals.

Every fibre of her being is set alight, exhilaration coursing through her veins. 

The unpleasant scent of car exhaust, the noisy chattering fangirls, the annoying smirk and touch memory of hard muscles against her chest fades. There is just her, the rumbling engine under her hands, the car she is racing and the careening turns of the mountain pass. 

This is why Nesta loves to race: Why she continues to do so even though she no longer needs the cash that saw her through her university days. There is nothing quite like the thrill of the race. 

Flag down and Nesta slams her foot into the accelerator. Her car speeds ahead. Next to her, Cassian’s more powerful WRX takes the lead and cuts her in her path with a loud and flashy bang of its exhaust. 

No matter. This is Ramiel. It’s the skills of cornering that determines the winner. 

Nesta frowns slightly at the slight resistance of her wheel as she begins the downhill course, almost veering her to the left. A muscle ticks at her jaw. Her perfectly tuned vehicle is out of balance. 

How is that even possible? 

Yet, with the upcoming turns, she has no time to ponder. Only to adjust and adapt. 

Just ahead, the brakes of Cassian screech at the braking point. The tilt angle of his car and the slide down the racing line at neck breaking speed tells Nesta that it is a perfect drift. Echoes of a cocksure smirk flits through her head. 

With little time to spare, Nesta slams her foot into the brake pedal, her arms spinning wildly with her wheel as she sends the car into full throttle.

She made the turn. With a slight delay in the steering that caused her precious seconds. But she made it. 

It proceeds in that manner for the next few kilometers. Nesta grits her teeth to maintain control of her vehicle as her opponent flawlessly executes each corner. 

But what lies ahead is the five hairpin curves. A section of the pass that Nesta always excelled at and her chance to bridge the gap in distance. Her hand grips tightly at the wheel and the gear stick. 

She barely squeezes between the left corner and the red car but once she is on the inside, a perfect cornering would set her in the lead. 

In that moment, Nesta feels her car jerk to the right in pure defiance of her steering. Helpless against the centrifugal force of the sharp turn, her beloved S2K rams into the WRX and bumps him off the road, smashing into the railing. She hears the scream of metal against metal in what is sure to be a bad dent. 

She swears and swerves her car slightly to the left, leaving just enough space for a car to get through. Cassian overtakes her and speeds off. 

“Fuck!” She slams her hands on the wheel. 

***

The hushed whispers fill and corrupt the serenity of the naturesque air. Nesta tunes them out, her attention wholly set on the bright red motor vehicle in front of her. She represses a wince at the large and long scratch that slashes across the car body and the dent in its back fender.

Humiliation burns in her chest.

It is one thing to lose a race but to have rammed into her opponent’s path like a fledgling novice? She bites the inside of her cheek. 

Cassian’s face is stoic though the muscle at his jaw feathers. Yet, when he turns those hazel eyes on her, there is no anger, only concern. “Lady D?”  

Nesta forces the lump down, swallowing thickly. “I’ll pay for the damages.” She pulls out a pen from the pocket of her jacket and scribbles her contact details on a stray piece of receipt. She lifts the heavy hand and closes thick fingers over the paper. “Just send me the bill.” 

Without giving the male racer another chance at speaking, Nesta quickly slides into her car and takes off.

Once the crowd disappears into nothing more than faded dots in her rear view mirror, she exhales heavily. She thumbs the leathered surface of the wheel, brows creasing as she once more feels the resistivity of her beloved vehicle. Impulsively, she turns into a viewing spot at the side of the road, turns off her headlights and gets out. 

She leans back, her back and ass warmed by the heated hood of her car. She tilts her head back at the vast blanket of twinkling stars. 

She will naturally need to get her car looked at. The tuning works and added costs of repairing the Lord of Bloodshed’s vehicle would mean eating scraps for the next few weeks. The thought of it has her heaving another sigh, her eyes falling shut. 

“It’s not exactly safe for a lady to be sitting here by herself.” 

Her brows furrow once more at the familiar low drawl. She asks with her eyes still closed, lacking the energy to add much bite into it, “What do you want, Cassian? I already told you I’ll pay for the damages.” 

The hood of her car dips with the weight of the other man. Her skin buzzes from the heat emanating from him, “I’m not here about the money.” 

She snaps her eyes open, “Then why are you here?” 

She spins her head towards him and is immediately struck by how close he is. Close enough for Nesta to pick out the flecks of green and gold in his eyes, to breathe in the spicy and woody scent of his cologne. It is a heady feeling that goes straight to her core and sends blood rushing to her ears. 

His eyes darted downwards to her lips for a split second, his lips parting. Then a focus overtakes his face and he pulls himself back just a couple of inches, a more respectable distance, and asks seriously, “What happened, Nesta?” 

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You are a better driver than that. A few months wouldn’t change that. I saw you in the turns before the hairpin too.” He searches her face, “It’s the steering, isn’t it?”

The heat leaves the tips of her ears to travel to her chest, scorching it with a familiar burn. She snaps, “Mind your own business.” 

Careful hazel eyes study her for a moment before he abruptly stands and turns away, whipping out the phone from his back pocket. 

“Hey Az, could you come get my car and drop it off at the workshop for me?”

Surprised, Nesta lifts her head and props herself on her elbows, keeping her eyes trained on the back of the racer. 

“Yep, yep. Just over the peak viewing spot.”

More grunts and a gruffed laugh before he hangs up, “Thanks, bro. I owe you one.” 

She greets him with a raised brow when he turns back to her, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“Alright, light her up.” 

She blinks, a little too owlish for her liking. “Excuse me?” 

He rubs his hand fondly over the side of her S2K’s windshield, his next words seem like they are intended more for her car than her. “Let’s find out what’s wrong with her, shall we?”

Yeahh, the way he keeps his gaze focused on the car, running his hand up and down lovingly, almost cooing, “Yeah, we’ll fix her right up.” 

Unable to keep down the laughter that is bubbling up her chest, it escapes her in a half stifled mix of a snort and a giggle. It draws Cassian’s attention. His eyes are round when he glances up at her, touched with surprise and awe. 

“What?” She asks sarcastically, “Should I give you two some room?”

The tender look disappears and his face splits into a white grin. His reply comes out in a low purr, “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you know there’s always room for three?” 

She chucks the keys in his face. 

***

There is something strange about being seated in the passenger seat of her own car. To not feel the purring vibration under the soles of her feet but to instead see the steering wheel handled by large veiny hands instead of her own slender ones. Yet, with Cassian at the wheel of her beloved silver, there is also nothing more natural.

His expression sharpens as they approach their first corner, anticipation visibly lighting him up, the muscles of his forearms flex delicious lines. 

Brake. Clutch. Throttle. Clutch. Throttle.

It would have been a perfect racing line, a precise balance of speed and distance. An unfairly perfect execution for a driver used to the power boom of the WRX. Instead of the smooth drift, the car jerks and shakes its passengers. 

Cassian’s brows crease and says after they made the turn. “Your car is out of balance.” 

“I could’ve told you that.” She returns drily. 

The edges of his mouth curve upward, “Touché.”

They drive back to Windhaven in relative silence, turning into a garage a short distance into the quiet city. The car halts next to an obnoxiously familiar red WRX.

Nesta waits expectantly only to realise Cassian remains still and silent. She scrunches her nose, “You can return the car to me now.” 

He turns the key in the ignition to shut down the engine and flashes her grin, “I’m fixing your car.” 

She resists the urge to drop her jaw. “Excuse me?” 

He shrugs. “You need your car re-tuned. I have a workshop and skilled mechanics to do it. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.” 

Nesta frowns. No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t even remotely make sense. 

She states flatly, “You’re my rival.” 

“I’m not about to sabotage your car.” He says exasperatedly with raised arms, her keys glinting in the artificial white fluorescent light of the building. “I’ll take good care of her. Or is it a him?”

She stares at him, silver blue eyes meeting hazel in narrowed skepticism. At last, she accepts with a sigh, “He is called Bryaxis.” Her lips curl into a small smile, “Take good care of him.”

***

Cassian slides up the length of her body and kisses her deeply, the weight of his body against hers is a delicious pressure she suspects she will never tire of. She wraps her legs around his waist to tug him closer.

The thick hard length of his arousal strains against the confines of his pants and rubs against her core, still sensitive from her recent climax. She digs her heels hard into his clothed buttocks, ruining his pants with the smudge of her release. 

“Nesta,” he pants, breaking the kiss. Stray inky black curls that escaped his bun fall to her face, caressing her skin with the lightest tickle. He stares down at her, pupils swallowing hazel, reminiscent of a solar eclipse. 

Nesta lifts the edges of her mouth into a sinful smile and tuts, “Not until you win this round.” 

For a stretched beat, Cassian is completely still, save for a twitch from his aching erection, begging to be released from its fabric prison. She raises one arched eyebrow as she dips her hand to teasingly palm and stroke the hard length. 

Admit defeat. Silver blue eyes order with a sparkle. 

He growls but uses his arms to push himself off the backseat. His voice is rough and gravelly as he promises darkly, “I am going to get back at you for this.” 

The words curl deep within her belly, inciting a heated flame. It burns low and steady as they each settle into their respective driver’s seat. 

The engine of her S2K roars to life and settles into a low rumble. Nesta smiles. Her world narrows to the careening turns of the mountain pass, the quiet, empty roads, the loud red car next to her with her equally loud driver, the feel of the low purring beneath her fingertips and the taste of her release on her tongue. 

Cassian’s baritone voice reaches her through her ear piece, “Three.”

The air rings with twin sounds of motor revving. She continues, “Two,”  

Then, in unison. “One.” 

End

A/N: My research for this fic was limited to my car loving husband who gave me car suggestions for Cassian (powerful and flashy Subaru WRX) and Nesta (slightly less vroom-vroom but requires better control Honda S2000), and watching clips of Initial D and basic racing techniques for dummies on YT. Please close one eye(or both) on any inaccuracies/misrepresentation!

[bulbasaur-gone-rogue]

I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO ABOUT MY BLORBOS SO Y’ALL GET IT

(For reference. This is for Aiden and Lambert from the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. All of these can be read with pretty much no knowledge. I went into these freaking blind off of… somewhere. I don’t know. I found them somewhere and went down a rabbit hole.)

I’ve been through all 58 or so pages worth of fanfiction in their tag. Lore-wise, we literally only know a name and vague affiliation on one of em. They’re my poor little meow meows. My silly rabbits.

I went through all those fics and I got like. Six recommendations. These all made me feel some kind of way, or I read them more than once. IN some ORDER!

1. Where I Stand by LadySesame.

Status: complete

Ohhhhhhh what if we were lovers and I thought you were dead and then you got dragged into my home (that I never quite had the courage to invite you back to) completely feral and with clear signs of torture and me n my bros and my (kinda shitty dad who I fight with a lot but he’s genuinely trying but also he’s fucking it up) and one of my brother’s weird boyfriend (who was kind of the only one who knew you existed and mattered to me in any way) had to figure out what the hell to do about all this. And then it gets better but worse before it gets better.

Vampire hunt flashback cool. Dynamic immaculate.

2. The Kaedwen Wolves by Kaerith

Status: incomplete, has not updated since 2021.

HOCKEY AU HOCKEY AU

Hockey aus really have it all. The banter. The rivals. The “we’re just homies. What do you mean I’m sending mixed signals.” The inherent homoeroticism of hockey. The “fellas is it gay to get in a fight on the ice so fast you forget to take your gloves off because some guy called your Good Friend over there a slur and like. I’m not gay or anything but also-”. And also men with muscles and a couple braincells but those only work occasionally. The chemistry.

This one would be tied for first but it’s still really early on and hasn’t updated in. A while.

3. Out of the Night That Covers Me by inexplicifics

Status: complete

Ough we love hurt/comfort and being kind in a world that is determined not to be. I love. Kind men with massive muscles who are so so so self-aware (but sometimes also stick their foot in their mouth real bad) And also terrifying women. I love terrifying women. Uh. Modern au. Everyone’s alive that I can think of.

4. Four Chambers by GilliganGoodfellow

Status: Complete

This one harmed me. It’s the accurate portrayal of grief. Warning for my homies. The Cat stays dead in this one. Had me wrecked for Amounts of Time

Rest of that series also bops and slaps. While I do love Complicated Feelings Towards Vesemir (he’s trying. He was part of an institution of child abuse. He didn’t have power to change anything. He was still part of it. He did the best he could. Maybe it wasn’t enough. He tried. Trying only gets you so far). Papa Vesemir ALSO has a place in my heart.

5. Denial by tnico

Status: complete

Author knows more weird little facts than I do. Scratches my brain. All of their works that I’ve read are stupidly good.

6. A Beginner’s Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code for Fun and Profit by heronfem

Status: incomplete, updating

You know.

[rainwaterapothecary]

Bardic Secrets

A silly little Witcher AU for

Serennedy Mini Week prompt 3 - Letters

Luis Serra sat, long legs dangling over the rocky outcropping above the sand. His music-callused fingers toyed with his guitar, pulling bright tunes out of its painted surface.

Down the beach, a blond girl of about 6 ran with a couple of children from the village. Her laughter melding with the tune he wove.

The bard smiled, his curated five o’clock shadow emphasizing the little movement.

Suddenly the sound cut out.

Sea birds were silenced. The children ran mute.

Cold fingers of air seemed to weave between his own.

“Navarro…”

His head whipped around, pupils slitting at the otherworldly purple light of a Mage Portal.

His fist clenched around the frets.

“We have nothing to discuss, jefe.”

The Mage’s hooded robes gave away nothing about the intruder other than his sickening grin.

Luis clenched his teeth and the fingers atop his guitar began to glow gold.

He slammed the Portal shut, the haunting chuckles of his mentor fading into nothing.

“Luis!” Sherry called breathlessly, running up to her guardian.

The bard smiled down at the smiling girl, blue eyes as wide as her innocent smile.

“We’re going to build a sandcastle! Think you can help?”

Gathering himself and rising to his full height, Luis pulled on the highest of courtly airs for his little girl.

“My lady,”

She giggled, he smirked before returning to his stuffy pompous character.

“I live for building sandcastles. I breathe it. Of course I will help you in this endeavor.” He bowed stiffly, one hand curling into his chest while the other remained holding his musical instrument.

Sherry applauded her peacocking guardian and he slackened the forced manners he’d been trained in, putting away his dark childhood of subservience, stifling magic, and long, dark halls…

As she tugged him down the beach by one ringed hand, he thought that sometimes, sometimes it could have all been worth it if it got his child to smile like that.

She had years, decades if he and Leon could help it, before she had to figure out what the world really held in store for the three of them.

For now…

For now, he was just a silly bard who winked at the ladies, flirted with Witchers, and didn’t have a magical bone in his body.

”My dearest Witcher,

Today I took little Sherry to the coast…”

Whatever his old bosses had in store for the Continent, his Cat and their Child Surprise didn’t need to know.

Not yet.

-----

A/N This works better for the prompt if I include part of Leon's side too:

“My dearest Witcher,”

Leon rolled his eyes at the first line that bedecked the parchment. Leave it to a bard to write an update like it’s a love letter.

Blowing a tuft of hair out of his unnaturally-bright eyes, the Cat continued reading.

“We are well! Sherry picks up on the bardic lifestyle quickly and we’ve been having a marvelous time in the summer heat. (I will pretend you are jealous of my brilliant idea to leave the winter behind. It was a very good idea.)”

---

Yes they are sharing a Child Surprise, yes there is a reason for it, maybe I'll even write it some day lmao

Thanks for putting on this event guys! <333

[solcorvidae]

Modern Witcher AU: My Headcanons (Part 5 - Holiday Edition)

The Bellegarde family Christmas tradition is to do gift exchange on the eve of the 24th rather than the morning of the 25th like most families. They aways bundle up in cozy pyjamas and wear their ugly Christmas sweaters and watch a Christmas movie or two while they do it.

When the boys were little Vesemir bought the whole family matching pyjamas and slippers that they took family photos in every year until they grew out of them. Every time they had to buy new sets, they would get a different pattern/colour so they could distinguish the years when looking back on photos.

New Years Eve nearly always consists of betting on sports. They may not even watch the teams that are playing that night, they still bet on it. After Vesemir bans betting cash, the boys have to get a little more creative. They have just as much, if not more, fun than before the ban.

Lambert has fallen off of the roof at least once while helping Vesemir put Christmas lights up and every single year when they sit down to watch Christmas Vacation, at least one (or more) person says "Hey, it's you!/Hey, it's Lambert!" when Clark falls off the roof. Lambert is not thrilled, but it becomes a running joke/tradition to say it with every rewatch.

Lambert isn't a big rum and eggnog fan. Geralt loves it.

The Pankratz family attends many many annual holiday get togethers. Jaskier swears on his life he has never met most of the people that invite them over. He goes anyway because it means free food, free drinks, free entertainment, and he gets to be the centre of attention once people find out he's a music major.

Get enough alcohol into Jaskier, and you can convince him to do Christmas karaoke with minimal hesitation. His go to song is White Christmas, (obviously) and despite tripping on his way up to the mic, he still sounds gorgeous. The whole time he is utterly beaming through rosy cheeks in his silly little light-up Christmas sweater. He’s in his element. He is thriving.

[Modern AU Headcanon Masterpost]

[theweeping-whistlers]

The Daily Fanfic Rec #18

Fandom : The Witcher

Site : Ao3

Title : You've Been Deprived, Haven't You My Dear?

Author : Bedalk05

Summary :

The thing is, Witchers aren’t supposed to be affectionate. Geralt, in his own particular way, undoubtedly is however. Unfortunately, the Witcher is truly inept when it comes to handling affection and processing emotion. All of this is to say that Jaskier could have predicted this. “This” being Geralt standing helplessly as he holds a cat currently purring in his arms.

Geralt deserves to touch something soft

Notes :

Jaskier is so silly, and in this piece of clouds on earth, he will be silly forever. That's right, immortal AU jaskier decided that sad man Geralt needs a hug...and a bath...and - you know what he decides that Geralt needs all the nice soft things that sad little boy Geralt never got. Ig this happens to bleed into the other withers in the process than :-p. Anyway, this fic is softer than a kittens fur and sweeter than the awful yet addictive sugar cookies from Walmart. Do you want to smile and feel nice? Well, then this work is just right for you.

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup: 18th November - 24th November

Hey hey all (sorry were late againm but at least its only 1 day not 4 months .... lol)

So, I have written 5,495 words this week, which isnt a whole lot, but ut has made me hit my 50,000 word goal this month so WHOOP!!! Im at 51,505 words for November at the moment. I also finished another 2 wips, so of my 63 wips, I have finished 11 and im feeling pretty proud tbh.

But, as always, here are the fic recs for others first!

Value - didoandis - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, soulmate au)

Summary: The four lives of Julian Alfred Pankratz: noble, sex slave, soulmate, bard.

roots - not1_2write - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, Warlord au. This is legit one of myfav fics ever!)

Summary: Jaskier saves the Warlord's daughter. Despite his family ties, he's allowed to stay in Kaer Morhen while he recovers from his injuries. Eventually, it becomes home.

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down @chaoticangel666 (Bilbo/Thorin, get your tissues ready!)

Summary: Bilbo returns to The Shire after the Battle of the Five Armies. He might be going insane though, because why does the ghost of Thorin Oakenshield keep showing up when he least expects it?

Follows the events from the end of The Hobbit until the end of The Lord of the Rings.

Under the Eucalyptus [+Podfic] - xinasvoice - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, muggle au with wonderful disablity rep)

Summary: On his first day working at the queerest zoo in the Australian outback, Remus meets Sirius, whose smile is bright enough to knock him over. Sirius doesn’t speak aloud, but that doesn’t stop either of them from falling in love.

A soft romance about the value of slowing down enough to listen to each other and watch the sun rise.

I Was Pledged to You, To You I Pledge Myself - anarchycox - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, alternate first meeting, its just cute asf tbh)

Summary: When he is four, Jaskier escapes out his window to avoid a boring family dinner where his cousin was getting betrothed to someone. He just wanted to hear the frogs. Frogs sound neat.

That daring escape, and the rescue that it required changed his whole fate, because he was the one who ended up betrothed to a witcher - the plan to marry when he was 20. He didn't really care he got to hear the frogs croak, what did he care about this Geralt of Rivia?

As he grows up though, he ends up caring a great deal.

Scenes from Jaskier's life of meeting every witcher but his betrothed, until one day in a shitty tavern, he finally meets Geralt.

ruffled - PenAndInkPrincess - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, Fae Jaskier au)

Summary: Supper secured and stuffed away in his trousers, he looks up to find the silver-haired stranger in the corner, the one person who hadn’t heckled him. The man is objectively gorgeous, with fascinating hair and a body that makes Jaskier’s mouth water a little.

Oh yes, he decides quickly, he will be climbing this stranger like a tree.

He’s a little wrong-footed when he works out that the stranger is a witcher with big scary swords Jaskier’s heard horror stories about, but after a quick moment of thought, he also thinks about how very many things the fae elders have been wrong about all his life and decides to ignore them once again. The witcher–Geralt of supposedly Rivia, even though Jaskier can tell from his accent that that’s a lie–tries to get rid of him, but Jaskier is nothing if he’s not determined, and he’s simply too damn interested to get scared off easily.

The witcher has clearly not realized that Jaskier is something to be hunted, and Jaskier, well, he’s never excelled at silly things like self-preservation.

As always, I hope you have a wondeful week, see you next time <3

And, as always, here are my fics. As I said, there are only two this week, but im pretty rpoud o the fact thats another two that have just been languising in my wip folder now finished and uploaded!

The Night I Couldn't Stay Beside You - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter (Remus & Hope, please mind the tags, especially the MCD and grief ones!)

Summary: Its the full moon again. Remus hates each and every one of them, buy especially this one as he looks down a this mother and can do nothing but hope she will still be there when the monster leaves him gain for another month.

All he can do is hope that she stays, thats all he wants, all he will beg and plead and pray for, his mum to still be here with him when he awakens with the moonset.

And last but not least

Finding my fate in the sensory room - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, it is a fic for a very dear friend of mine but I hope you all enjoy it to)

Summary: Remus is tired, exhausted more like and so he takes his hyper 4 year old into the empty sensory room to have alittle bit of peace and quiet.

Unbeknownst to Remus, that one action, on that one specific day, would change four lives for the better.

[limerental]

limerental's themed self-rec lists

read my old fics, you cowards! these are majority witcher fics, because i have an illness.

silly goofy modern au

how long we were fool'd - jaskier/yennefer(&geralt)

married neighbors yennskier, suburban dad!geralt, modern witchers, little kid ciri, aroace geralt, relationship misunderstandings, borzoi roach, supernatural mystery, some canon-typical violence, found family nonsense, and my own clairvoyance in writing yennskier husband-wife but it was spring 2020

(don't) poke the sleeping dragon - jaskier/yennefer/geralt

a retelling of bottled appetites but it's a nerdy fantasy music festival, copious drug use, yennefer's sick wizard van, unicorn edibles, golden dragon dildos, outdoor sex, geralt getting pegged and double penetrated, a dialogue only threesome, accidental yearning old friend geraskier tenderness, and someone once told me they wouldn't read this fic because yen had her tits out in the summary and i will always remember that criticism for the rest of my life

as if you were a mythical thing - yennefer/geralt

old married couple, dom/sub dynamics, sex unicorn mention, geralt is very vanilla but loves his kinky wife, and he's too autistic about horses not to ruin ponyplay with horse facts

this one might hurt

long on the road & how light carries on - geralt/jaskier (eventual geralt/regis in the sequel, plus many platonic relationships)

the 80s trucker/hitchhiker au that got away from me, vietnam vet trucker geralt, aging hippie musician jaskier, AIDS crisis, terminal illnesses, dealing with mortality, falling in love, road tripping, copious american geography, period-typical queer community issues, and then... life after loss, aging, grief and mourning, queer and traumatized family dynamics both found and otherwise, finding love again, and watching the sun set on a life well lived

in dark and twisted braids - fringilla &/ yennefer

aretuza school days slumber parties, girlhood crushes, pining, unrequited love, i shook a sorceress and intergenerational trauma fell out, the inherent adolescent horror of making lasting decisions about your future when you are barely 18 but even worse because there's war and violence and permanent alterations to your body and forced sterilization and your little schoolgirl crush on someone you thought was a friend ends in betrayal and bloodshed and you end up on opposite sides of the war and she never even looked your way or thought about you and--

then send down the storm - aiden/lambert, lambert/geralt(/yennefer)

witcher roadtripping, just guys being dudes, horse stuff, winter at kaer morhen polyamory but different, ~trauma~, the mortifying ordeal of accepting you deserve more from life and also of being known, but it's too late (or is it?), grief and mourning and loss and love that was worth its loss, and also, the character death(s) are largely temporary.

aw that just ain't right :/

the witch in her tower - eskel/yennefer(/geralt)

dark fic, fairytale elements, hurt no comfort (mind the tags), morally dubious heartbroken yennefer, pining and years of yearning for geralt eskel, unrequited love, non-consensual mind control during sex, flashbacks to messed up witcher child abuse and violence and cruelty, the inherent horror of mutated and manipulated little boys becoming men who think they can't or shouldn't love paralleled with the inherent horror of enchanted and manipulated little girls becoming women who-- you get it.

the flesh calmly going cold - geralt/jaskier

this one's gross for real, a hunt gone wrong, hurt NO comfort, major character death and it's gross and tragic, gore, necrophilia, organs lovingly described (and jizzed on), basically it's just like that scene in twn where filavandrel exploded but if francesca humped his goo after. sorry.

blood of the covenant (water of the womb) - geralt/&renfri, geralt/stregobor

supernatural pregnancy body horror as revenge, ......pregobor, black sun princess trauma and curses, apocalyptic monster fetus imagery, it's about women and violence against women and evil men suffering for inflicting that violence mostly, and also the evils of standing by and watching evil happen. also, yes stregobor is magical yucky bella swan pregnant and then bad stuff happens to everybody.

[sarahisslytherin]

here we are, two years later and at two thousand followers! a lot has happened since i started writing on here but this blog has been such a constant and fun place for me. i've made friends on here and been able to write my silly stories about all my favorite characters, so i've prepared a little celebration based on my current obsession, unreal unearth. thank you all for your kindness, your supportive messages and for simply reading my work!

please consult the fandoms listed below before sending in a character.

please send seperate asks.

only sfw asks.

fandoms: harry potter, the witcher, lord of the rings (legolas or aragorn for now pls), game of thrones, house of the dragon, stranger things, marvel, pirates of the caribbean, narcos, the bear, the last of us, good omens, star wars, gilmore girls, dead poets society, bridgerton and outer banks.

𝖉𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖇𝖞 - send in prompts from these lists [i,ii,iii, iv] and a character and i’ll write you a dialogue for it! (you can send multiple prompts per ask).

𝖋𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖆 - send me a character, book, show, movie, etc. and i’ll make a moodboard based off its aesthetic!

𝖎, 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖓 - send me a character and a fandom they aren’t a part of and i’ll make an au moodboard!

𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌 - send me a character from my fandoms and i’ll make them a playlist!

𝖉𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖊 - send me a character + scenario or prompt and i’ll write you a blurb!

𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖜𝖊 𝖆𝖗𝖊 (𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶) - send me a fic you’ve written (preferably a oneshot) and i’ll make a litte moodboard for it!

𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖒 𝖈𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 - send me a hozier lyric and i'll tell you what character it reminds me of!

𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖓 / 𝖓𝖙𝖍 - ask games! cym, fmk, this or that, etc.

tagging moots! @velvetcloxds @oliverwoodmarrymepls @sheraayasher @gxtitobxby @letterstotheflre @leahsficemporium @leydileyla @saintlike78 @gilmore-angel @spxllcxstxr @pinkandblueblurbs @amourrs @natashxromanovf @lovings4turn @wonderfilworld @curseofaphrodite @sereinegemini @mendesxruel @sweetercalypso + anyone who wants to participate!

[bard-llama]

Random Future Scenes from (Im)Perfect Strangers/Don't Cry for Me, Temeria

I have a lot of random scenes for this fic universe that I have no idea where they fit in, so figured it might be fun to share them.

Series background: Witcher 2 AU where Iorveth and Roche actually met pre-canon and slept together. This managed to change a lot of how W2 went - and now they're secretly involved as they live in Vergen, helping Saskia try to build a Free Pontar Valley and also raising Anais and Boussy.

(forgive the formatting - I can't stand the way indenting text removes all spacing)

First, the random silly scenes set at some vague point in the future of the 'verse:

Bath House

“All right, who wants to head to the bath house?” Roche asked, clapping his hands together and pointedly looking at each of the more fragrant members of his team.

“Oooh, me!” Boussy bounced up and down excitedly. 

Anais sighed. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, yes we do,” Roche said firmly. Not least because his scalp had started itching horribly from dried sweat and it was really difficult to scratch with the chaperone in the way.

“Thirteen, if you don’t go to the bath house now, you had better go later!” Ves snarled, “I can smell you from over here!”

“Hey! You don’t know that’s me!” Thirteen defended, across the room from Ves. “It could be – uh,” his voice abruptly faltered as he looked over the two people between him and Ves – Pillow Tits, as a medic, was dedicated to sanitation, plus he somehow always smelled a little like pine; and Silas, who obsessively washed behind his ears any time they had spare water. “Okay fine, it’s me. I’ll go,” Thirteen sighed.

“Anyone else?” Roche glanced around the room. “All right, we’ll be back later.”

Thirteen helped him carouse Anais into her shoes and soon enough, Boussy was leading them to the bath house.

The bath house itself was in an ornately carved stone building that protruded from the side of the mountain, next to the waterfall. It was only one of many bath houses in Vergen, but it was by far the fanciest one and Boussy had declared it his favorite. The entrance was grand, and that was nothing compared to the bath itself. Large enough to swim laps in if it were deeper, the main bath took up the majority of the room, and the tiled rim was decorated with carvings in elaborate geometric patterns that continued down each of the stone steps.

The bath house wasn’t too busy this time of day, which made it even more surprising to see Iorveth and Rinn sitting on the steps in the far corner of the bath, Iorveth still with his bandana on.

“Rinn!” Boussy called out happily and only Roche’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from running across the wet tile to her side. Instead, Roche guided them over at a more sedate pace that bore no risk of falling and cracking heads.

“Iorveth, Rinn,” he nodded to them, cocking an eyebrow at Iorveth.

Thirteen and Anais followed after them, though Anais was slightly more constrained in her excitement to see Rinn. Thirteen’s nod of acknowledgement was stiff and Roche abruptly remembered that with Thirteen here, he couldn’t touch Iorveth. He probably shouldn’t even act too familiar at all.

He swallowed sharply and pulled himself together enough to grab Boussy before the kid darted into the water.

“Hold on, kiddo. You gotta wash off first, then you can soak.”

Boussy huffed, “fiiiine.” 

They each soaped up and rinsed off, then slid into the warm bath near Iorveth and Rinn. Boussy let out a loud satisfied sigh and melted into the steps. Roche would have trouble moving him any time soon, but that was fine – he was in no rush himself. 

Anais, on the other hand, started fidgeting after just a few moments. Thirteen, likewise, kept wiggling around as if trying to get comfortable.

--

Anais Hates Shoes

(Magda = Anais' bff who is a little baby dwarf)

“Go put your shoes on, Anais.” 

“I don’t wanna.”

Roche groaned. He was way too tired for this. “Why not?”

“Magda said that dwarves don’t wear shoes!”

He blinked. “Yes they do?”

“Nu-uh, not in the mountain! Magda says they feel the mountain.”

“Anais,” he knelt down to meet her eyes seriously, “you’re not a dwarf.”

“Duh! But I’m ruling a dwarven kingdom! Aren’t we supposed to be more open to traditions we don’t understand?” Anais grinned brightly, clearly impressed with herself for using logic on him.

“Don’t their feet hurt?” he asked plaintively. 

“Nope,” she popped the p pointedly.

“Okay, but your feet are gonna hurt.”

“Nu-uh.”

--

Water Balloon Fight

Roche hadn’t actually been commanding men for very long – the four years with the Blue Stripes was his only experience – but he was good at it. He was good at reading people, understanding dynamics, and most importantly, sensing when morale was teetering on the knife’s edge of too low.

His command sense was screaming at him now. Fenn was also screaming, but that was because he’d done something stupid in his boredom. Again. 

That was the last clue Roche needed to know that his men really, really needed a break. A true break, not a babysitting break or a guard duty break, but an actual morale-boosting break.

How that led to the intense free for all currently happening, he wasn’t sure. But he was winning. Sort of. Depending on how you measured winning.

...okay, maybe he was losing, but it could’ve been worse! They could’ve gone with Fenn’s idea to fill their ammo with paint.

Instead, a nice, normal water balloons pegged him in the shoulder and burst over his already sodden sleeve. Roche sighed heavily. He was too old for this, dammit.

--

Okay, now the semi-plotty scenes:

Elven and Dwarven Relations

“Mr. Zoltan,” Boussy tugged on the dwarf’s clothing one evening in the public dining hall. Roche was busy bullying Fenn into letting Imadia look at his broken wrist, because the idiot kept trying to use it, but he saw the way everyone in the area turned at least partial attention towards the boy. It was, after all, less common for Boussy to initiate conversations, especially in public.

“What can I do for you, Wee Lad?” Zoltan asked, smiling behind his bushy beard.

“How come dwarves hate elves?” Boussy asked innocently, probably unaware of the immediate tension that spread across the room. There were the dwarves within hearing distance, of course – Zoltan, Yarpen, and Skalen, most notably – but there were also several elves, because Iorveth had followed Imadia and Rinn was sitting next to Anais. In other words, this could end badly.

“Ah,” Zoltan coughed. “Well, the easiest answer is because elves hate dwarves.”

“They do?” Boussy tilted his head.

“Magda said,” Anais interrupted loudly, “that it’s cause elves were like humans before humans were here.”

That certainly didn’t go over well with the elves present, though Zoltan nodded. 

“She’s not wrong, though I wouldn’t, uh, use those words, exactly.”

“What does that mean?” Boussy asked, frowning down at his hands.

“Well, uh…” Zoltan cleared his throat, glancing around quickly to search for either support or an escape. 

Roche would love to help, but honestly, he knew nothing about the history between elves and dwarves. And he was kind of curious, though very on edge. There were an awful lot of people around who might have personal opinions about that history, and that tended to get messy.

Skalen Burdon, the alderman’s nephew, ducked his head, pointedly not making eye contact with Zoltan, but Yarpen Zigrin seemed to take pity on him.

“Elves were the conquerors of the continent before humans came along and did it better,” Yarpen said bluntly, and Roche winced, practically able to feel the offense coming from Iorveth.

“Excuse you,” Iorveth’s voice was snippy. “We spread culture across the continent.”

“Yeah, by conquering people,” Yarpen glared at him. “Bah, are you even old enough to remember?”

Now Roche was the one frowning. Wasn’t Iorveth like… really old?

“Not many are,” Imadia said gravely, somehow spreading a sense of calm. “The times Yarpen speaks of started long before the Conjunction of the Spheres. And yes,” she held up a hand in Iorveth’s face, “you are too young. When you were born, elves already ruled the continent, though not without conflict.”

Zoltan snorted, “that’s one way to put it. Elves tried – and failed – to conquer Mahakam.”

“Wait, really?” Thirteen blurted out, blinking in surprise. “But like – even Foltest didn’t really conquer Mahakam. And everyone said he was mad to even try!”

“No, he didn’t.” Yarpen and Zoltan both looked smug.

Roche decidedly kept his mouth shut. There was no need to remind people that he’d been part of that campaign.

“Plenty o’ other places they did succeed in conquering, though. Just look at Loc Muinne!”

Iorveth stiffened. The matter of the extinction of the Vrans was a complicated one, and Iorveth had personal connections to Loc Muinne’s history. It was probably best to move on from this quickly.

“So what about dwarves?” Roche asked.

“What about us?” Zoltan asked, eyeing Iorveth in a way that meant he too was aware of why Roche was changing the subject.

“Well, humans came and conquered. Elves came and conquered. Did dwarves ever? Or uh, other species before the Conjunction?”

“Not really,” Zoltan shrugged. “Not to say that there weren’t some who tried – I’ve no doubt every species has at least some of those. But as a species, we dwarves live in the mountains, which many other species find… inhospitable. Not all of them, though! Dwarves and gnomes have always gotten along well enough.”

“Wait, but we live in a mountain,” Anais pouted.

“Ah, but remember,” Pillow Tits smiled kindly at her, “humans can’t live without sunlight. So we can live in mountains, but we need to return to the surface fairly regularly or our health will start to decay.”

“But dwarves don’t?” Boussy asked.

Zoltan shook his head. “Not really. I mean, there are effects on vision if you don’t experience sunlight fairly regularly. But I think maybe that came later – that we adjusted to sunlight later, and that’s why we can lose that, if we stay under the mountains for too long. Sunlight hurts if you’ve been out of it for too long.”

“Hmm, that’s an interesting theory,” Imadia tapped her finger against her chin and Iorveth rolled his eye. “Dwarves came from stone, yes? I’ve heard some say that you’re eternal like stone as well, but – well, I think that was more poetic than accurate.”

“Mmm, sort of,” Skalen grunted. “I dunno anything about the pre-Conjunction stuff, but when dwarves die, we return to the stone. You can visit our catacombs here, in fact. They’re quite something, I must say.”

“Full of wraiths,” Geralt grumbled under his breath. “Every fucking body had a wraith, pretty much.”

Roche blinked. What had Geralt been doing with the bodies in the Vergen Catacombs and why?

--

Politics

The difficult thing about building a kingdom where all species were equal was actually doing the building. Which would be so much easier if they were starting from scratch, actually. Sure, the task of starting such a huge project was daunting, but Iorveth stood by the idea that at least everything would intentionally be theirs.

Instead, they were stuck building on top of everything that came before and all that it meant.

“On the matter of education,” one stuffy council member began, “Saskia has convinced me that a national education curriculum with room for regional specifics and changes would be best. But I just cannot get behind the idea of actual schools being nationalized. Neighborhood schools are part of our culture! It helps kids become familiar with their own community! Opening these schools up to kids from other communities is counterproductive.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Vernon shrugged next to Iorveth and Iorveth saw red.

“Except,” he grit out, “that we aren’t starting from scratch and creating neighborhoods where everyone lives together. Instead, we’re working with the fact that dwarves mostly live amongst dwarves and humans live amongst humans and elves live amongst elves. If they don’t get out of their neighborhood community, then they’ll never learn about each other or interact with each other much.”

Saskia nodded and part of Iorveth relaxed. At least she understood, even if Vernon didn’t. Hopefully, it was just that Vernon didn’t know.

“Iorveth is right,” Saskia said and all eyes turned to her. “The current neighborhood schools are also community-funded, which means that the humans in the human enclave, for instance, have less funds than a school in the Craftsman Quarter, which is predominantly dwarven and has more wealth due to selling those crafts in the market.”

“So what do you suggest?” another council member sniffed haughtily. “Are we all to move until neighborhoods are intermingled? That will likely just lead to outbreaks of violence, not understanding.”

“You’re right, that’s not something we can fix easily. I certainly have no wish to ask dwarves who have been living in their homes for centuries to move to make room for other species. However, I do think it is reasonable that we expand neighborhoods and open new housing up to other species. Additionally, most children’s exposure to other species will likely come from their schooling, so having open schools is essential. But I don’t think that’s enough. Letting a parent choose to send their child to the poor human school or the wealthy dwarven school isn’t a fair choice – and won’t build inclusion on a larger scale. Instead, I think we need to be intentional about placing students in classrooms and in ensuring that teachers have adequate training to serve the needs of all students, whether they be human, dwarven, elven, or something else.”

There was a thoughtful hum from somewhere around the table as everyone processed Saskia’s words.

“Okay,” Vernon nodded, agreeing with Saskia, and Iorveth was beyond relieved that this wasn’t going to end up being a fight between them. “But how? How do we actually do that? And on what scale? If we try to do that with all of Vergen – or all of the Free Pontar Valley – now, we’ll just be interrupting the children’s education. Perhaps we should try this with a specific neighborhood school first and test the model?”

“I disagree,” the sorceress said and for possibly the first time ever, Iorveth felt a smidgeon of affection for a mage. “Their education has already been disrupted. I think the better way to respect their experiences is to make sure they are receiving support as we enact these changes. Because all of the children in Vergen have experienced this interruption, not just one neighborhood. Isn’t it better to explain what we’re doing and why as we provide intermediary teaching and support? And then when we roll out the changes, we can be confident that they reflect the children’s needs.”

“Yeah, but again, how do we do that?” another council member echoed Vernon’s words.

“For a start,” Iorveth began, voice icy. Too icy, based on Saskia’s hidden wince. Oops? “We can set up a central education fund for all schools, giving them enough funding to put them on equal grounds. Which means the poorer schools will need more than the richer ones to make up the difference.”

“But that’s unfair,” someone said and Iorveth glared at them.

“Really? More unfair than living with the decisions made by city founders centuries ago that leave them in abject poverty with an underfunded school and shit teachers?”

Saskia cleared her throat. “Equity,” she said firmly. “Our aim for this new realm is equity for all. Equity does not mean equality – it does not mean an even distribution of resources, the same thing for everyone. Instead, equity means the same outcomes for everyone, even if getting them to that outcome takes more funds and resources.”

She looked around the table, meeting people’s eyes, and Iorveth watched as most of the council muttered and moaned, but didn’t speak up against her decree. Good.

“Now, for student placements,” Saskia began, “I have a few ideas, but I imagine the teachers in our midst have perspectives that would be beneficial to this discussion. That is why council meetings are open to everyone – none of us know everything. But when we encourage people to share their perspectives and expertise with us, it helps us minimize mistakes and ensure we are thinking of everything.”

The head of the teachers guild inclined their head towards Saskia when she gestured for them to take the floor. “Thank you. We do have a few possible ideas, but I think the first thing we need to establish is what we consider most important for the students? Is it stability? Consistency? Exposure? Shared experiences? Whatever we choose will greatly affect our decisions, so I believe we should start here.”

One human snorted at the dwarf, frowning at them. “Obviously the quality of education is the most important!”

Iorveth rolled his eye. “Obviously. But what they’re saying is that which option we prioritize for students will affect how we go about doing this.”

“In such a time of change, surely stability is most important?”

“Same old, same old?” Vernon asked, rubbing his chin in thought. “But when that ‘same old’ is built on racial segregation and unequal funding, is that really what we want?”

Something inside Iorveth unclenched. Vernon did understand. Even if they didn’t always agree with each other’s ideas, Vernon knew how essential it was for Anais and Boussy to unlearn their racism and limit their exposure to more.

And maybe someday soon, the children would stop flinching every time Iorveth walked in the room. “All right,” Saskia clapped her hands, cutting through the small conversations and grumbling from most of the room. “It would seem this is in need of discussion. Why don’t we start with what we each wish to prioritize and why and perhaps we can come to a consensus?”

--

I think that's all for now. Do I know where any of these scenes are going? Absolutely not. Hope you enjoyed anyway lol

[kingrhyth]

I have so many silly AU ideas for Stranger Things so uhhh AU-gust prompts anyone???

I'd love to get a little series done this month bc its fun having stuff to draw!! I'm gonna pop a poll and see what y'all think 👀 happy for any ideas in replies or askbox

I know I only draw Steddie tbh but I do need an excuse to make myself draw other characters so go nuts

[alpydk]

THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

this is a super fun tag prompt list, thanks @orangekittyenergy

tagging: @sofancydancy and @senualothbrok

Right, let's see how this goes.

Last book I read: Pride and Prejudice. Had never read it before but the whole Tim Downie cameo got me doing it. Then watched the BBC series with a friend and we swooned something major over Colin Firth. I've picked up some other books since then but just haven't found the motivation to get through them. Looking at Dark Tower book 5 as well for the last year...

Greatest literary inspiration: I'm honestly not sure. My partner is the real reader of the two of us. I've enjoyed Dark Tower, The Witcher Series (Honestly still in love with Cahir from them), and Leaves of Grass is my poetry go-to. But inspiration, going to be silly but the Hardcore series by Andy Remic (RIP), is such a great series of books. They're not the most literary genius type books but the action is cool, I love the characters. They make me want to write cool shit too.

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write:

Smut. Honestly, my abilities with writing smut are limited. I have no patience for flowery language (yeah I write poetry but I know what I mean.) but it means when it comes to writing my own smut it is very matter-of-fact and lacks what I'm looking for. I'm also very picky about my smut due to an annoying logical brain. If you say someone moves their arm and then they move something else I see that and if I can't follow it directly I'm just going to put it down.

You can recognise my writing by:

Lots of short prose-type sentences. I like the effect of repetition and I especially like writing in a more personal talking type way. I especially love to monologue so if anyone does recognise my writing it's probably from these things. I especially love writing anything angst, it's so therapeutic and I love being able to draw out emotions from other people. I can do this with sweet fluff stuff too but angst really is more enjoyable.

My most controversial take ( current fandom):

I hate the word folds. (Not fandom relations but still.) Makes me think of a packed ham sandwich.

Fandom-related though - Astarion fans can get pretty feral over their views of his character. I get it, Gale fans are the same but I've left groups over the rabidness.

Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): Currently about a 4 but it can vary depending on the hour and the inspiration. I completed the Nana story and now feel a little lost as to what the next project will be. Ideas are escaping me.

Top three favourite tropes: The whole "enemy to lovers" thing. I mean this in a 2 people who argue and fall in love, not as in the real enemies to lovers.

Star-crossed lovers, especially if they really are both doomed. Astarion/Karlach if she is going to burn up. I love that tragic acceptance. Give me more of that.

I like a loveable rogue too. Hook from OUAT.

Share a random frustration: AU fiction losing characterisations. Once your fiction hits a point where you could replace the characters with any other from any other series I'm going to stop reading it. Great, you want X to be sub, but if he wouldn't actually act that way in canon, why are you even using him as a character? It's AU, fine but then make it OC or use another fandom. Don't force me to read through 13 chapters of semi-ok stuff just to destroy the characters so you can fulfil the soap opera-esque drama that gets you the hits. I get it's difficult but this is my pet peeve. Rant over...

[roughentumble]

a while ago i had the idea for an AU where geralt's mind is sortve sent back in time to right before the dragon fight, and he makes different choices at key junctures as a sort of fix-it fic. i agonized over it for a while, then it lay languishing and forgotten in my notes app, so im deciding to publish it as is, which will either encourage me to finish it, or at least put what exists out in the universe.

also he doesnt really Remember he's time traveled, he just gets Vibes at key points

tagging @fangirleaconmigo because she expressed interest in the idea way back when i first had it!

-------

geralt wakes up in a daze.

there's something on the tip of his tongue-- like when you don't remember a dream, but you remember the shape of it. he fights to recall it, because it seems so big, so important, as the last strands slip through his fingers. his body wills him to stand up, and so he does, as if he could chase the fragments that way, but moving only seems to dislodge them further. he doesnt even recall falling asleep. he sees-- jaskier, a few feet away with his back to him, far enough he'd have to call out to be heard, and everything is hazy as he stumbles over, some sort of need he cant name thrumming under his skin. he could get angry about it, or-- or...

he places a hand on jaskier's shoulder, and jaskier whips around in surprise, blinking owlishly at him. he starts to say something, brow furrowed with concern and sympathy, but geralt cuts him off with a squeeze of his shoulder. "i think you were right. we should go to the coast."

concern gives way to joy, like the sun breaking through the clouds, lighting up his entire face. "you-- really? actually, you'd want that? what caused the change of heart, did you whack your head or something?" he waves his hand in dismissal, keeps speaking before geralt can interject. "doesn't matter, really, what matters is that you did. i'll pack my things right away, and we can load up dear old roach, and i can compose a stunning ballad out of this whole mess because i am a miracle worker, and-- oh you'll just /love/ the coast i'm /certain/ of it! fine wine and pearls and the salty sea stretching out forever over the horizon, and the sunsets, oh! to die for, truly!"

perhaps he did hit his head. there's dirt in his hair, more than usual, and he doesnt think he woke up in a bedroll... but he can't find it in himself to care. it all came out so easy, and something about it had felt right. he reaches out to take jaskier's hand in his own, and jaskier only trips over his words for a moment, glancing down at them in confusion, then smiling even brighter, if that was even possible. that feels right, too. in the same way he cant put his finger on. he'll examine it later, when he's a little more awake. for now he just pulls jaskier gently by the hand towards camp, so he can do that packing he was talking about.

they leave the mountain, and the cursed dragon hunt, behind, without much fanfare or a word to the others.

===========

he doesnt like the coast much, as it turns out. sand isnt great for poor roach's hooves, salt sticks in his long hair making it unmanagable, and the large swath of ocean in front of him makes him edgy in a way he doesnt want to put a name to, because geralt of rivia does not /do/ being afraid. it's all logic, is what it is, giant sea monsters lurk in those depths, and surely no witcher is equipped to deal with their likes. a certain healthy cautiousness makes sense, he reasons.

he likes jaskier at the coast, though.

happy and free, laughing, backlit by the sun, sand on his cheek and pants rolled up to the knee. fancy shoes dangling from his fingers.

/foolish bard/, he thinks, stepping closer, brushing away the sand, /foolish, silly little bard, never brings the proper footwear anywhere we go./ out loud he says "i'm in love with you."

he watches closely the play of emotions across jaskier's face, the joy morphing into shock, disbelief, mouth gawping open like a fish. in the next moment he's dropped those fancy shoes to grab geralt's head, yanking him down into a kiss that's equal parts frenzy and passion and finally coming home. they kiss until the water laps up to their ankles, arms tangled around each other.

the incoming waves claim just one of jaskier's fancy, impractical shoes, and he curses the sea, running into the water as if he could fish the thing out, or else batter the sea into compliance. geralt laughs, and laughs, and pulls jaskier from the salty sea to kiss him again, and again, and again, even as he complains about his lost shoe. "you'll be compensating me for that, witcher." he warns, shaking his finger.

"wouldn't have it any other way," geralt responds, breathless with joy, and jaskier sinks into his grip.

========

"i want you to come with me. to kaer morhen."

jaskier stares at him with open-mouth. it isnt an offer given lightly. even in all their years of on-again off-again, geralt never extended this particular invitation to yennefer. maybe he was too scared of being known, or too scared of being trapped in one place-- if things went sour when they couldnt just leave, would it go away for ever? she's gone away forever anyway, for all his clinging and carefully calculated space. she said no, and he found-- he found--

years he's spent, dragging his feet. years, and with jaskier it's so old and yet so new, and he's decided that he is sick of the waiting, of the right pace. he wants jaskier with him, now and always. "this winter, the two of us. up in the blue mountains."

jaskier is nodding before geralt can finish speaking, tears welling in his eyes. "i want that too, love. gods, you know i'd follow you anywhere." and then he laughs, free and joyful and it's the best sound geralt's ever heard in his life. jaskier reaches out, touches his cheek, like he's confirming this is real, and geralt leans into his space to press their foreheads together. inhales the scent of his tears mingled with pure joy, and it smells like the ocean.

=================

they keep heading south, because it isnt time to head north yet, and because geralt's got a feeling he'd really like to disprove. can't explain where it comes from, exactly, just that he feels a tug, senses a rumbling in the earth, hears whispers on the streets. he climbs the rocky outcropping while jaskier waits by roach, idle and bored. he wants to be wrong. wants it so badly he hasnt even shared his theory with jaskier. he looks out over the path below.

he is not wrong.

a sea of black and gold. cintra is the gateway to the rest of the north, and it's about to fall.

============

he tells jaskier to wait in the marketplace. if this works, geralt will be able to meet him there without injury, or at least be able to send someone to fetch him. if it doesnt, he'll need to resort to drastic measures, which should put him in jaskier's path too. he's grateful for this decision when he ends up surrounded on all sides by calanthe's men-- he has no doubt jaskier would be able to extract himself from the danger as he always does, but he still doesnt like seeing it. he holds a knife to the throat of an old friend, and wonders why it feels familiar. wishes that it didnt.

when they fall through the portal, dodging calanthe's trap, jaskier is far enough away from their stall that he doesn't hear the commotion-- presumably, anyway. geralt wishes he could see him, just to confirm he was safe, confirm he actually made it, but he's too preoccupied to linger on the thought.

[transcribe partial convo]

[bars part w/ eist]

finally jaskier has wandered close enough to notice the commotion, and he calls for geralt

[geralt pleads for jaskier's safety, appeals to eist as a reasonable man, as someone who mightve once been called a friend. says he understands eist's commitment to calanthe, but begs him not to doom jaskier by throwing him in the dungeons when he's harmless. jaskier doesnt much like this, but eventually eist agrees, as a favor to someone he respects and as someone who can see reason. geralt makes jaskier promise to stay in his room no matter what happens, and they clasp hands before jaskier is dragged back from the bars]

[maybe describe getaway, but idk if needed]

============

"this is cirilla. ciri, this is--"

"ah-ah, let me do my own introductions, i get to say it so rarely, after all." he says, cutting geralt off and turning to ciri. his shoulders roll back, posture straightening, carrying himself with a sudden air of gravitas. "my name is julian alfred pancratz, viscount de lettenhove. graduate of oxenfurt, master of the seven liberal arts, and esteemed poet and minstrel, better known throughout the kingdoms as the famed bard jaskier. at your service." he bows deeply, a fluid, graceful movement, and when he comes back up he looks rather pleased with himself.

there's a beat of silence. "...my partner." geralt finishes his earlier statement, eyebrow raised and thoroughly unimpressed. ciri mostly just seems surprised. "don't worry, you get used to the chatter."

jaskier splutters, cheeks turning red in offense. "you! that was a perfectly lovely introduction, you

[bicker] i dont know why i put up with you [bicker]

[something abt the moment of levity, but then geralt is saying "we need to go to sodden hill, [why] i think yen is there and i need to find her", then the moment when geralt realizes she is (presumed) dead where jaskier's playful insults fall away]

============

[noticing eskel, gets feeling he needs to check, finds out abt infection, etc etc]

============

[change vesemir pov]

he doesnt think these flowers are the answer. he doesnt recognize them-- though if he knew every part of the formula, it wouldnt be lost to him as well. still, though, it doesnt sound right to his ear, even if he doesnt know as much about flora as one might if they'd dedicated their life to the study of it. he can imagine, though, being desperate enough to believe it. he thinks back to eskel, and how they'd almost lost him to such a stupid error. he feels the loss of their way of life, their traditions, weighing on his shoulders in a way he never thought he'd face in his lifetime.

the little scrap of paper in her hand is so innocuous. and even if it's wrong, or merely an approximation of what once was, he feels the need to keep it, to catalogue it, preserve it as he has everything else in the keep... even the unsavory ones. the metal rack so many boys died on, that countless others were changed in, /chained/ in, sitting in the basement like it's a coffee table. like it's nothing. like it isnt horrific.

but it's all he has. and it's what they needed.

his fingers curl around the paper. "how many other people know of this blossom? would be likely to put two and two together?" he asks.

"not many at all, i would imagine. even fewer would know how to apply the knowledge , or emough inner workings of witchers to make the leap. and it's only a theory, anyway, i cant confirm it as of yet." she replies, watching him closely.

their numbers, so weakened, so devastated. the continent is running out of monsters, but it hasnt run dry just yet-- witchers are still needed, and theyre dwindling. and yet...

he flicks his fingers, and the page goes up in flames. a little cast of igni, and suddenly the secret is unknown once more. "cant let anyone know how we're made-- sorcerers have been after the information for as long as there have been witcher schools. no telling what havoc they'd wreak across the continent if they had the recipe. and... there will be no more boys."

he looks at the ashes in his hand, and he aches in ways he doesnt have words for, for the life he had and the men he lost and all those boys. "i thank you for your diligence, and your offer," he says diplomatically, "but i urge you to forget what you've discovered, and tell no one. and if you do decide to divulge our secrets, then i can only pray your approximations were wrong."

she had looks surprised when the fire burst to life, but understanding settles across her features.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Imaginary Friend: Bonus Scene - Part 1

Yennefer was intensely curious when Jaskier started talking about the benevolent dream entity, Other Geralt, that had begun showing up in his nightmares to chase away Not Geralt. The bard spoke of it fondly and told Yennefer about the dream adventures they had. He started calling it his imaginary friend.

Yennefer listened to Jaskier talk about Other Geralt's antics, and the more she heard, the more she started to like this mysterious creature.

She decided that she wanted to meet him, and asked Jaskier if he would allow her and Geralt to 'sit in' on his dreams one night after he'd had another nightmare. He had agreed, and that night, Yennefer and Geralt got to meet Other Geralt after it came to banish Not Geralt back to the shadows.

Yennefer stared, her face split in a wide grin. The creature was an exact copy of Geralt, but... "He has a potoo's head!"

"Is that what it is? I was wondering! We are so calling him Potoo Head Geralt!"

"Gods, you were right, Jaskier, he looks just like Geralt!"

"Right? I can hardly tell which one is which!"

"He definitely has your eyes, Geralt!"

* 'Hmmmm' of disagreement*

"And he even has a Witcher Mode! Look!"

"Yeah, he definitely looks like Geralt! He's even got the same a**!"

"No it doesn't!"

*confused 'Mwaaaawp!' while 'de-witchering'*

"He's actually kind of cute!"

*Potoo Head Geralt, eyes looking in two different directions* "Mwaaawp?"

"I don't like it."

*Yennefer, scratching Potoo Head Geralt under the chin* "Why, because he looks like you? Are you jealous of Potoo Head Geralt?!"

"NO! And it does't look like me!"

"I think he is jealous, Yen!"

"No, I'm not!"

Geralt was so put off by the creature, he left the dream. He was so creeped out by Potoo Head Geralt. It was just wrong. He sat in his room for a few hours, fussing with his horse figurine collection until he started to calm down.

He was just starting to feel better, when he heard Jaskier and Yennefer giggling and carrying on. He left his room to go investigate. They're probably planning to kidnap one of my horses again, the brats!

He marched into the livingroom, following the sounds, and pulled up short. There standing in the middle of the living room was Potoo Head Geralt in all his absurd glory.

"For f**k's sake, Yen! Why?"

"Because he's cute, and if you can bring home a tiny fat pony, then I can bring home a potoo headed version fo you!"

"Don't you roll your eyes at me like that!"

"And don't 'hm' at me like that either!"

Geralt had grunted, watching Jaskier laugh as Potoo Head Geralt tried to preen his hair. He huffed and gave in.

Potoo Head Geralt followed Jaskier and Yennefer around, allowing them to fuss over him and giggle over his antics, and ask him silly questions like '"Who's a good boi?" and "Who's a handsome boi?" Geralt wondered what Potoo Head Geralt thought about all of this. It was hard to tell with how his bulgy eyes made him look like he was perpetually confused, or startled.

He didn't appear as if he had the ability to speak. He could just make bird noises, and go 'Mwwaaawp!', but Jaskier somehow understood him. He would pluck at his sleeve, or gesture, or make noises, and Jaskier just knew.

Like when he wanted head scratches. He would make a little chirpy noise and grab one of their hands, pulling it up towards his head. He liked head scratches. And chin scratches. And cuddles.

Jaskier had a photo on his phone of the look on Yennefer's face when she'd gone OMG! when she'd found that spot under Potoo Head Geralt's chin that made him close his eyes and fluff his feathers up. Of course, Jaskier had been obligated to tell her that she looked like a blow up doll. And Yennefer had been obligated to give him a purple nurple.

Yennefer had two theories about it. One, was that because Jaskier's mind had conjured him up, there was some kind of connection there. The other one was that it was because he was good at reading people.

"Must be all the practice he got from the years of interpreting all your grunts, Geralt!"

"Hm!"

"Oh, that was definitely denial, aggravation, and a hint of jealousy, Yen," Jaskier interjected with a grin, reaching up to scratch his fingers into the neck feathers of his imaginary friend, who had put his arms around him from behind and rested his chin on the top of his head.

That was the other thing Geralt didn't like about Potoo Head Geralt. The f***ing thing was always hanging on Jaskier or Yennefer. He was entirely too touchy-feely for Geralt's liking.

"Hmm!"

"He's not going to steal your bard, calm down!"

"Hm!!!"

"Three exclamation points, Yen! You must have struck a nerve!"

"Hmm!"

"F**k you, too!" Jaskier called affectionately as Geralt spun around and stalked away.

Geralt went to sulk in Van Roach, and do some thinking. Maybe he was being a jealous a**hole and was just embarrassing himself in front of his friends... He came out later, determined to do his best to make friends with the goofy a** thing, for Jaskier's sake. He put in some effort, and found that the creature really wasn't so bad. But he was still annoying!

Potoo Head Geralt had started trying to follow him around too. He would turn around and it was just there, the f***ing thing! He never yelled at him, but he did tell him to stop following him around. He felt like a heel after Jaskier told him that Potoo Head Geralt was a social creature, and had impressed on him, and now saw him as part of his 'flock'. Great. Now he had two Jaskiers following him around!

Geralt tried to be accommodating, but he drew the line at Potoo Head Geralt trying to stand guard in his room at night. That had been a creepy experience. Geralt had just about p*ssed himself when he'd woken up in the middle of the night and saw the f***ing thing standing in the corner, watching him with those creepy eyes!

Geralt had made a noise that was not a scream,( and it definitley had not sounded like the scream of a little girl!), gotten tangled up in the bedsheets, and fallen on the floor, twisting and struggling so that by the time Jaskier and Yennefer got there, he looked like a cat stuck in a sweater sleeve.

Yennefer and Jaskier had laughed themselves onto the floor. Geralt had glowered and snarled at them, and then started inchworming his way around the foot of the bed.

That made Yennefer laugh so hard she farted.

Which made Jaskier laugh so hard he p*ssed himself.

"Y-you just farted!" *wheezing* "Geralt, Yen farted!"

"Shut up, Julian! At least i didn't p*ss myself!"

"YOU FARTED!"

Potoo Head Geralt untangled Geralt from his sheet prison. Well, at least somebody had helped him!

Geralt did his best to be a good flock member and help take care of the creature. While Potoo Head Geralt was smart enough to practically be human, he was still just stupid enough to need supervision. He wondered how it even survived in the dream world. It was intelligent enough to survive this long, yet it was terrified of the vacuum cleaner and start flapping around going 'Mwaaawp! Mwaaawp! Mwaaawp!'

Geralt had caught h*ll for that. He hadn't even done it on purpose, well, not completely on purpose. He'd just been curious after seeing his reaction to the micorwave, and the carpet was a little dirty...

Yennefer had b*tched at him while Jaskier tried to coax Potoo Head Geralt out from under the kitched table. He had eventually come out, after Geralt, in an effort to appease his friends, managed to draw him out with some soft words and little bits of ham.

Yennefer decided that they were going a little stir crazy and it was time to do something about it...

[nirikeehan]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you @rowanisawriter for the tag!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

*gulp* 60!!! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN???

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

348,147. I repeat the question. (Almost a third is one fic, though.)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I have written for Dragon Age, the Star Wars sequels, a teensy bit of the Witcher... and I GUESs now an obscure actual play DND podcast no one has heard of 🤷‍♀️

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

The Force's Will (Star Wars sequels, Reylo)

Tactical Maneuvers (Dragon Age, Thalia x Cullen)

Through a Glass, Darkly (Dragon Age, Thalia x Cullen, Thalia x Samson)

Stealing the Light (Star Wars sequels, Reylo)

Forbearance (Dragon Age, Cullen & Dorian)

5. do you respond to comments?

Always!

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I finish fics. But among the one-shots Hiraeth (Cullen x Thalia) and Save Me a Dance (Blackwall x Thalia x Cullen love triangle) are sure in the running.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Lmao idk. Maybe License to Lick (Cullen x Thalia)? It's very silly and I was deliberately trying to write fluff. (It's hard!)

8. do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, fingers crossed! I did get a spam comment once about one of my chapters of Through a Glass, Darkly supposedly being AI generated and just laughed. I was like, joke's on you, you WISH AI could come up with shit this weird. I think that was just (ironically) a bot programmed to hit any new updates at a certain point in time, though, because scores of people were getting them at once.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I guess so. The kind that's often awkward and imperfect, but hopefully still satisfying?

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote a Dragon Age/Witcher crossover exchange fic once where Cassandra Pentaghast kissed Geralt of Rivia. And um, I am currently *checks notes* writing a Dragon Age OC adventure crossover with the DND campaign Curse of Strahd, also featuring at least one character from Curse of Strahd: Twice Bitten, that aforementioned obscure actual play DND podcast. Because Metrion is fucking amazing and there's nO FIC ABOUT THIS SERIES AT ALL AND IT'S MURDEIRNG ME DEAD

I had the idea while high on drugs. Sue me.

(Literally. I wish I could say they were the fun kind but I was prescribed some allergy meds that really FUCKED ME UP for awhile.)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of! Pravinquisition AU is a collaborative series between me and @monocytogenes, but we generally write different fics in the same timeline, not like, one fic together.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

*blank stare* I have to pick one?

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The Star Wars ones, currently. Once I started running a Star Wars ttrpg campaign, all my SW mojo went toward that, unfortunately.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, plot-heavy stuff, coming up with weird af canon divergence aus, writing relatable characters and campy villains

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing literally anything

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

hot take maybe but I think there's almost never a good reason to do so. you're basically just othering whatever culture it is you're trying to represent.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

Ironically, Star Wars.......... when I was 10. Unless you count Barbie as a fandom (which, maybe we are now?). Then I was doing that when I was like 7.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm a broken record when it comes to this, but it's probably A Little Grace, and Some Elegance. Cullen has a near-death experience overdosing on lyrium and then tells Thalia some key backstory between him and Samson via flashback. Started my Cullen & Samson doomed friendship obsession, and is probably some of the whumpiest whump I've ever whumped.

Tagging:  | @oxygenforthewicked | @monocytogenes | @inquisimer | @bluewren | @little--abyss | @theluckywizard | @melisusthewee