#temaria

[edenianleena]

Slayyyyyyyy.🗣️💜💙

✨✨✨

[episkey-rpg]

TEMARIA JORDAN

Temaria Jordan

Temaria is the daughter of Lee Jordan and Unknown. She is known to be Loud, Excitable, Humorous, and Gracious, She was sorted into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

SHORT BIO:Like her father before her Temaria is very boisterous and loud. She took the job of Quidditch announcer just as her father had been. She was sorted into Gryffindor and she enjoys pranking people using her stash of Weasley Wizard Wheezes she has collected over her years.

Temaria's face claim is Zendaya. Face claim is negotiable as long as she remains of African American descent. This role has been open.

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Okay Gallahir shippers, I am feeding you well tonight. Uhhh context, Cahir nearly died in Aretuza, had a pretty nasty knife wound to his side which ended up lodging in his ribs and he nearly died from infection. Gallatin rode across half of Temaria to find a commune of druids who healed him up. But then Cahir finally heard that Ciri disappeared and raced out of there like an idiot. They are currently holed up in a cave waiting for a blizzard to blow over. Don't know if this qualifies as blanket fic sadly but close enough.

“You could go back to your people.” Cahir pointed out quietly and hated himself for how much it cost him to offer it. Because he didn’t want Gallatin to leave, he didn’t want to lose him.

Ironically, the elf was wrestling with the same thing. He knew his duty and ached for his people and how they would inevitably continue to suffer under Francesca’s leadership.

But he also did not want to lose the human.

He knew in the marrow of his bones that if he left Cahir and returned to his people, he would never see the knight again. He would throw himself into this strange obsession he had for the Cintran Princess and it would consume him.

“For now, that particular door is closed to me. Maybe….maybe if I somehow help you find this princess and she proves to be as useful as you and everyone proclaims, maybe I will be welcomed back among the elves with open arms. Francesca is also convinced she has some part to play in the future of my people.” Gallatin offered quietly and reached for another spindly limb that he could break into pieces and feed to the fire.

“I’m sorry, Gallatin.” The human sounded genuinely sincere when he said that.

“We all make choices, Cahir. I made mine when I threw my lot in with you. Come on, it’s about time to change your bandages and then we’ll hit the sack. With luck this storm will have cleared by the morning.”

Cahir made a face because that would require him to disrobe and the fire helped keep the cave above freezing temperatures but it was hardly warm. But he also knew that letting himself lapse back into sickness or infection would only hinder their process further so he reluctantly shrugged off the coat and his tunic.

“You know, the dryads are rumored to have a spring that holds magical healing properties. I also hear they have a bunch of natural hot springs. What I wouldn’t give for one of those right about now.”

“I’ve heard all manner of incredulous rumors about Brokilon, I don’t know which to believe.” Cahir sucked in a breath when Gallatin touched his chest as he unwound the bandage wrapped around his torso. Compared to the chillness of the air, the elf’s hand felt almost feverish hot against his skin.

“I’m sure they foster plenty of untruths just to confuse outsiders. I’ve never been there myself, but Dara, one of the young ones who joined us, spent some time among them. And he had all sorts of crazy stories about that place.” Gallatin pried the packing away from the stab wound carefully. It was still raw looking but the edges of the wound were a healthy pink rather than the angry red it had been before.

Cahir tried to hide it, but he’d seen the way the human winced if he twisted wrong or when he bent over so he knew it was still bothering him. Unfortunately, you learned how to work and fight through the pain when you were a soldier because it was one of your constant companions, right up there with hunger and usually suffering through the elements when you were on campaign.

“I wish we’d had more time to let Fiona heal you. This still looks bad to me.” Gallatin muttered as he smeared some of the bright orange salve onto the wound. The hiss of breath from Cahir told him the human definitely felt that even if he stubbornly tried to ignore that.

“Are you sure it’s not just her healing you were interested in?” The younger man asked, trying to pass the commentary off like a joke but there was an edge to his voice that was definitely not joking.

That earned him a puzzled look from the elf. “What does that mean?”

“I saw the two of you, in the snow. Looked pretty chummy to me.” Cahir tried to sound blase about it but the way he kept shooting glances at Gallatin’s face as the elf finished coating his wounds in that salve betrayed him.

Gallatin for his part just looked back at the human with a flummoxed look on his face.

“Please tell me you are joking?”

The human bristled instinctively at the incredulous note in the other man’s voice. “Pardon me?”

“You are joking, right? Cahir? I have abandoned my people to follow you halfway across the known world to look for this princess of yours. I carried you out of Aretuza and raced across half of Temeria to search for a healer who could save your life. Do you really think I had designs of Fiona of all people?”

Gallatin asked, putting the salve down so that he could pin the human with an exasperated look. “I have been haunted by that kiss for days yet have been unable to find a good time to address it because I honestly don’t know if you did it because you thought you were dying and just didn’t have the balls to tell me how you felt or if it was just one last hurrah, something to check off your list before you died. Or something else altogether."

“I thought…” Cahir’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. How did he say he’d thought that had all been a dream brought on by blood loss and the incoherence of the moment? He had kissed Gallatin because he had thought he’d been dying and when the elf put it like that, it felt like a heel. “You’re right, I was a coward. I thought I was dying and I didn’t want to die without having the chance to kiss you one last time.”

He confessed softly, unable to bring himself to meet the elf’s piercing gaze.

Gallatin let his head fall forward to rest on the crest of the human’s shoulder as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. He feared if he let the laughter out, it might come across as unhinged and crazed as he felt in that moment.

“We’re both fucking idiots. Goddess, protect us, but we’re really bad at this.” He mumbled into Cahir’s skin. “Let me make it abundantly clear to you. Fiona is not the person that I want.”

The black-haired elf finally said as he raised his head enough to meet Cahir’s anxious gaze. Gallatin reached out slowly, giving the other man plenty of time to move or push his fingers away as he turned Cahir’s face towards his so that he could lean in to press a lingering kiss against the human’s mouth.

He felt the exhale of breath against his as the younger man made a wordless noise against his. Gallatin took that as permission to continue and shifted minutely so that he could deepen the kiss further with a teasing caress of his mouth against Cahir’s.

Distantly, he could feel fingers curl into his tunic, pulling him closer, which the elf took to be a good sign, as was the way the human’s mouth parted beneath his oh-so-sweetly.

Eventually, however, they had to rise for air and Gallatin pulled away enough to rest his forehead against Cahir’s while the younger man dragged his nails languidly through his hair.

“I hope that I made myself abundantly clear?” He teased lightly, earning him a huff from the human.

“I don’t know, I seem to be incredibly thick-headed. I might need a reminder and some additional clarification. To make certain there’s no further confusion.” Cahir snarked, and Gallatin was smiling as he leaned in to kiss him again if only to shut him up.

[aeore-investigation-program]

MEMO:

There is something wrong with the site's banner; I am unsure if this is a bad prank from Computational, but we've read the records, and none seemed to have interacted with it.

---Temaria A. Department of Security, Central Wing---

[kisaki-yazmin-motou]

¡Recupera a tu hermano!

Justo estaba pensando en como se temaria ese Sonic el saber que dejaron a su hermanito solo...

¿Cuanto a que se inflatra en el consejo para robar la maquina? No se como la haria funcionar, pero de lo lo logra, lo logra.

Shattered Mind au

New Yolk shatterspace:

When the Resistence get back they get their memories back and immediately feel guilty. Knux couldn't stop staring at the gloved hand he punched the kid, his kid, with.

When their sonic got back to New Yolk from helping another resistence group, the first place he went to was Nine lab. He didn't see him anywhere so assume he was staying with the resistance making more gadget.

So he went there and saw all his friends. He smiled and ran in scaring Knux who gulps. Rebel and Rusty are looking at him with guilt and sorrow. Their sonic asks the big question "Where Nine?" With a small smile. The others look at each other.

Their sonic frowns and ask the question again. So they can't just lie to him but they also don't know how to tell him the truth. So they just say they'll tell him tomorrow.

Tomorrow turned into a week and their sonic just snaps and asked "Where is my brother." So Rusty sighs and tells him the whole story.

Their sonic has the look of angry disappointment. Of course, they knew it wasn't at anyone. But they also knew it was because they left nine in another shatterspace alone with nothing.

Their sonic then asked if their was a way to get him back. The other look at him and say "I don't know." So their sonic just nods and walks away from them.

This sonic thought are "so he gone" or "what the point in fighting when my motivation is not here to see me win the war." He fought so Nine can see the blue sky and nature this planet used to be. He found that kid when the kit was barely 5 1/2 yrs old already angry with the world. He wasn't about to lose him to another world.

[hxpeiessx]

( · Happy birthday Kalpa )

(.MARCEL.) @mxrcxlz​

❝ Estoy nerviosa. ❞ Afirmó sin requerido plantear inicial, solo fue expresado y en consecuencia la búsqueda por una mano cual apoyo. ❝ ¿Tú lo estás? ❞ Puede sufriera en exageración unos nervios producidos por razón pues si daba por reflexionar no expectativa y decante tenía por una de las opciones, más por mucho fuere a decir tal a su mente no daba por menguar el acelerado palpitar del corazón. Más el mayor alivio de todos había sido conocer todo marchaba en perfectas condiciones para el bebé aún hubiere dado retraso de algunas de las visitas por los acontecimientos vividos... En tal cancelación por razones mayores habían dado pérdida del conocer hasta ahora el sexo del futuro hijo o hija en común, más ahora tiempo era de conocer la respuesta.

El estado sano del bebé era el conocimiento más vital ha conocer más ahora en sabiendas nada malo acontecía solo restaba un informar por delante. ❝ ¿Aún deseas sepamos si es niño o niña? ❞ Pues si había cambio en su parecer acogería pues la decisión formulada... ❝ Más deberíamos tener nombres en mente--- ❞ Ella no en mente tenía pues aún no fuere dada reflexión. Todo aquella lista formulada apunto de extraer más fruto era del palpable nervio sentido a una requerida necesidad de tenerlo todo listo ya...  ❝ Y su cuarto---Sus cosas---Cosas debe necesitar. ❞

[xxyumeno]

[throw hands up] I’ll finally be done with damn Sacred Sakura Tree in the next patch! I’ve successfully acquired all the Electro Sigils i need to get that tree to lvl 50 and I’m glad! Plus, all the new furniture that come with the rewards~

[wishicouldpostfromsecondaryblogs]

The original five

An infodump about the Aves from my fic here, after a great discussion with @zeebee823 !!!

The Aves were formed by Jaskier (Sandpiper), Priscilla (Wren), Essi (Golden Eagle), Shani (Caladrius) and Valdo (Peacock). They were all part of the gathering at the Tree when it was raided, able to escape partially because they were all human and very well-known. In the aftermath, they decided to form an underground system to help all the non-humans now under danger from several armies, getting them to safe places the best they can.

Jaskier managed to get funding and contacts from Dijkstra for the movement, which started from Oxenfurt and spread outward- with Aves both human and nonhuman found all around the Continent by the time of season two "canon".

Each of the original five have their own main crew and then are partially responsible for the people who help them on the way through safe routes.

Sandpiper handles Temaria and Redania- partially because he knows more people there and partially because he's the one directly beholden to Dijkstra. He works mainly with his crew to do groundwork- Oxenfurt and the surrounding places have a LOT of halflings and loud-spoken people who rail against the injustice and are main targets for the armies, so they have a lot of people to smuggle out and get to safety. They usually send their charges to Brokilon or Skellige or to Priscilla's crew in the mountains, where they can be safe until the war is over.

Wren works up and down the mountain ranges, occasionally dipping into Nilfgaardian territory as well when she gets word of mass imprisionments or friends about to be executed. She settles people in the mountain villages or helps them pass through the valleys to places beyond temporarily, often leaving it to her crew while she jumps onto the next bunch. She deals with freeing prisoners and often steals supplies for her charges- making her one of the most wanted people of the Aves.

Golden Eagle is the deadliest- she works right in the heart of the Nilfgaardian Empire and takes out entire patrol caravans with prisoners and sends them along to her fellow Aves. Her crew has the most non-humans for the fastest travel, often the people she has saved themselves joining on. Once in a while, they'll take out a big outpost and keep it running as a farce- making it a key safehouse in the area. She's not wanted by the Nilfgaardian Empire at all, because no one her crew attacks lives to tell the tale.

Peacock works in the courts of as many kingdoms he can manage- he snatches up important documents and in-between letters ordering hits on people, sending along important court gossip and locations of various mercenaries and mages through the Aves' trained birds. He doesn't have the nerve for groundwork, so he and his crew are informants for the whole Resistance.

Caladrius stays in the centre of the continent and coordinates rescues and keeps a track of their safehouses and allies, making sure everyone always has the information and equipment they need. She handles the healing of the prisoners that Golden Eagle and Wren send her way and changes the location of her makeshift hospital each week to prevent them from being found, meaning she can only be found by their trained birds or a certain whistling tune sung in vaguely the right area.

The Aves have a secret stronghold in Kovir- unknown to most of the Resistance for fear that it'll get back to Dijkstra somehow. It's maintained by a handful of witches who escaped from Aretuza when they tried to turn them into eels, as well as children with chaos they rescued before Barn Ard or Aretuza could get their hands on them. The Five all have an emergency xenovox from her for the absolute worst of situations- they try not to travel to the place the most they can. All their information and papers are stored in this stronghold, as well as people who can't be sent anywhere else. Every three months, all the Aves take a week long break and meet at their stronghold to drink and talk and sing the songs that are too dangerous to sing anywhere else.

[edenianleena]

OMG, Kenshi Face Model 😭❤️💖

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Weak and Wanting - Chapter 1

prompted by @amazingmsme

----

Geralt was doing that thing again.

It happened at the end of every autumn season. They travelled further and further north. They left Temaria and crossed the Pontar, and Geralt got even shiftier than usual. They made their way through Redania, and Jaskier could practically feel Geralt’s hackles rising. They reached the Kaedweni borders and Geralt’s shoulders were so tense they were up past his ears.

Geralt would be leaving him behind soon to go winter in Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier would travel back through the lands to settle in Oxenfurt until spring hit and the snows melted.

Jaskier waited every day for the typical excuses. He wouldn’t be hurt, when they came. He knew Kaer Morhen was probably no place for a human, being difficult enough to hike to even before the snow and ice set in to impede the travel. Not to mention the monsters lurking about the mountains; and the witchers themselves, if they were anything like Geralt when he’d first met his White Wolf. They probably wouldn’t take well to a stranger.

Jaskier could tell that Geralt had been taking them through a longer route to get to where he was going. There were far faster routes, the ones they’d taken in past years, through the riverside border towns. Instead, Geralt had led them through Rinde (or, more accurately, past Rinde, as neither had been keen to return ever since the djinn incident) and up into Kaedwin’s rough wilderness, with the nearest cities being a week’s travel at least.

Geralt was doing that thing again, where he drew out his goodbye to Jaskier as long as he possibly could.

Honestly, Jaskier thought it was sweet. Geralt’s words and glares may have often been harsh, but he spoke much louder and much more fondly with his actions than anything else. Geralt could deny their friendship all he wanted, but Jaskier could see the truth. The man liked him, whether he wanted to or not. Jaskier had grown on him.

Like a weed. Or a particularly stubborn flower.

(Granted, Jaskier would love something more than friendship, but truly, simply having Geralt in his life was enough. So long as they were together in some fashion, Jaskier could suffer a little pining. He could suffer through anything, so long as he had Geralt.)

Except, they reached the town of Shaerrawedd, where the two of them would usually part (though it was more logical to part while Jaskier was still in Redania, making his travel to Oxenfurt much easier, they hadn’t done that in years. Jaskier liked to think it was because Geralt missed him as much as he missed Geralt), and Geralt still hadn’t said goodbye. They travelled up the nearby Lixela river together, and Geralt still hadn’t said goodbye. They passed through one of the smaller towns to have a warm night’s stay in an inn, and Geralt still hadn’t said goodbye.

Jaskier decided he had to put a stop to this as they passed through Ard Carraigh. There were no more towns left, he couldn’t go much further and still be able to travel back safely when Geralt finally did work up the courage to say goodbye.

“I suppose this is where we part ways,” Jaskier sighed quietly, watching Geralt brush down Roach in the stables. It sounded far sadder than he had intended it to.

Geralt went stiff, the movements of the brush stuttering for a moment. He cleared his throat and continued brushing. Jaskier gave him the space and time needed to think out his words, knowing the drill by now.

“Actually,” Geralt said quietly, “I thought you could come along this year. As my guest.”

[READ THE REST ON AO3]

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

After 137 hours of play, I have finished The Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt.

I’m extremely tempted to just start back from the beginning again to see if I get a different ending. The ending I got was... okay. Ciri survived and chose to become a Witcher with Geralt, and Temaria was freed, and Skellige is thriving, but Niflgaard basically won everywhere else and it’s not stated one way or the other whether things are better for non-humans in Novigrad. Given the rest of the game, it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s no completely good ending, if all of them are in some way complicated and compromised. 

I also want to see if I can make it so Lambert survives the battle at Kaer Morhen and to get that last, stupid gwent card because I’m still annoyed that I couldn’t complete that sidequest by one card.

[bloededhoine]

If Temaria is modelled off of multiple aspects of France (I agree), what do you believe to be Toussaint? I hear many tie between Italy and Portugal, but I sway towards Portugal more myself imo. I love dissecting lore LOL

ok dissecting lore is THE SHIT thank you anon

toussaint's extra cool because there isn't really a native toussaint culture, the area was first settled by elves, sapkowski's elves favour mannerism, hence the design of the ducal palace

btw mannerism is an italian high renaissance art style, here's some comparison

after elves, vampires showed up and then humans, but these humans were kinda just vagabonds who noticed that the elves hadn't touched the mines and left a lot of metals n shit behind

toussaint became an actual nation in the early 1200s when anna henrietta's great-great grandfather showed up and started making some changes based off what he noticed from the surrounding states: nilfgaard and temeria

nilfgaard is modeled off the roman empire, hence all the wine, gladiator-esque fights, and iberian vibes, ie the guard's helmets and architecture outside the city

the devs really did an amazing job with this

of course we get that french shit from temeria, ie the names (vivienne de tabris, palmerin/guillaume de launfal, etc) and the language. lots of the npc's in toussaint are actually speaking french!

on the subject of languages because i can: i think common speech is the lingua franca of the continent and all the kingdoms (especially in rural areas) primarily use the language of the country they were modeled off of.

so some temerian miners living idk near toussaint?? probably spoke exclusively french as there was no need for them to know a trade language.

when those temerian peasants started mining in toussaint, they brought their language with them, where it mixed with the hen llinge (weird mish-mosh of goidelic and random european languages) from the elves that already lived there and the nilfgaardian language (based in hen llinge) in the south and voila! new language!

tl;dr: in my opinion, toussaint is architecturally italian in urban areas and iberian in rural areas, the general culture is a mix of french and italian, and the language is french combined with sapkowski's elven pseudo-goidelic

[geralt-jaskier]

Changes

In which Jaskier gets turned into a woman. Rated M.

You can also read on ao3

Jaskier is only trying to help, which could possibly be the title of the biography that will surely be written about him one day. Only Trying to Help, the epic tale of a bard and all manner of trouble he gets into alongside his witcher friend.

They are rifling through the house of a mage that Geralt is tracking down. Geralt sniffs and squints around for clues, and really if you think about it, the whole situation is his fault because in between all that sniffing and squinting he says, “Make yourself useful, Jaskier. Search the bedroom.”

So he does as he’s told, and what happens next could have happened to anyone--Geralt included. When Jaskier reaches for a suspicious-looking piece of paper poking out of a book on the upper shelf, he knocks over a small bottle on one of the lower shelves, and when the glass shatters against the ground, some of the liquid inside splashes onto Jaskier.

He freezes, waiting for pain or, perhaps, even pleasure, but there’s nothing. He reaches a hand back out for the note, but it’s not...his hand is not his hand. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier calls, panic growing in his voice as he looks down at this body and, oh sweet Gods, hears his voice, “something has gone very very very very wrong.” 

His voice is not his, that is not his voice, he thinks frantically. 

Geralt rushes up the stairs and when he catches sight of Jaskier his eyes go wide in a way that they normally do not, which only confirms Jaskier’s fears that indeed something has gone very very very very wrong. “Fuck.”

“I need a mirror. Do I need a mirror? Do I even want to see?” the voice that is not his own asks, panic-stricken. 

“There’s one on the other side of the room.” Geralt has the audacity to laugh, so at least it’s not like Jaskier is dying, but now does not feel like the appropriate time for Geralt to be a complete and utter shithead. 

Jaskier’s clothes feel too loose now, and he has to hold his trousers up with one hand as he makes his way over to the alchemist’s changing area.  

In the mirror staring back at him is a beautiful dark-haired woman. He recognizes his eyes, gone wide now with shock.  

Geralt comes to stand behind him.

“One of your tits is hanging out,” Geralt points out.

“Yes, thank you, Geralt. I can see that.” Jaskier can’t look away from the reflection where indeed one of his tits has fallen out of the v-neck of his now-loose white tunic. “Nice tit, though.” 

“Hm.” Geralt nods back at him in the mirror. 

   After three weeks, they’ve not had much luck finding anyone who knows of a cure. They haven’t managed to track the mage who was responsible for the potion, and the two alchemists they’ve spoken to were utterly flummoxed. 

“I know of a group of druids we can speak to,” Geralt says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I have another alchemist contact in Temeria. We will find a cure for you, Jaskier.” 

It’s been taking some adjustment to get used to the changes in the way his body is built, the way it moves, how there is somehow considerably less strength. It’s even harder to get used to the staring and leers and horrible come-ons. He feels a bit like a double-agent, now working for the other side and is deeply embarrassed by the lack of finesse from his old team. 

If he stands a little closer to Geralt when they stop at a tavern, that’s only because it offers a welcome reprieve from the attention his beauty attracts when men think that he’s the girlfriend of a terrifying witcher. 

   Jaskier learns that while he definitely does know how to please a woman--as all of his past lovers will attest--there is still so much to learn. He’s lying on his stomach, hand between the bedroll and his body as he rubs slow circles around his clit. 

“Would you stop doing that,” Geralt snaps one night from his bedroll on the other side of the fire.

Jaskier freezes. He’d thought that without the revealing and obvious sound of his hand against his cock he’d be able to get away with this. 

“Doing what?” Jaskier asks as innocently and evenly as he can, hand still between his thighs. 

“I can smell and hear you,” Geralt adds through gritted teeth. 

“The thing is, Geralt. Is that I’m really really close.” 

He doesn’t add that not only is he too aroused to feel the weight of mortification that he should surely feel, he’s only more turned on knowing that Geralt is aware of what’s happening. He imagines Geralt getting up, sliding under the blanket with Jaskier and then sliding into Jaskier’s ready, willing, wet--seriously, dripping wet--cunt. 

His whole body goes tense, thighs trembling, and he can’t help the muffled moan he lets out into the blanket as he comes. 

“Fuck you, Jaskier,” Geralt says, and Jaskier is sure he’s wrong, but it sounds a little strangled. 

   Geralt has been more irritable than usual about Jaskier coming on hunts with him.

“I’m not sure how my being a woman changes anything. I wasn’t exactly critical to the monster-killing side of the operation.” 

“No shit.” 

“So that settles it. I’m coming with you.” 

Though he’s gotten funny about letting Jaskier go on hunts, he’s gotten even funnier about traveling with Jaskier. It makes some sense that they wouldn’t part ways until a cure was found, but Geralt could have ridden ahead on his own and told Jaskier to stay put in a city like Novigrad.  

But he doesn’t, and as they make their way towards Temeria to speak to Geralt’s contact there, he finds he likes living alongside Geralt as though this is their everyday life. Geralt takes contracts and Jaskier still performs for coin and, of course, accolades. 

He even announces to his audiences, with great excitement, that he is, in fact, the famous bard Jaskier and has been temporarily afflicted by a curse that has turned him into the gorgeous woman they see before them today. 

At the end of his performances, he’s found it quite lucrative to say, “Every coin you can spare helps me continue my search for a cure.” 

The thing that’s funniest and strangest of all about Geralt’s behavior during this whole ordeal is that while Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier on hunts, he seems to want him alone in the evenings even less. Geralt sits in all manner of corners and glowers and broods more than he’d done in the past while Jaskier performs--his voice as gorgeous as ever as he adjusts to his new range and the highest of notes he can now reach--and if there’s even a hint of nastiness from the crowd, Geralt puts a stop to it with one of his infamously scary looks. 

Jaskier rather likes it. 

   “Husbands are so much less violent when they catch me sleeping with their wives now,” Jaskier muses. “All I have to do is wink at them and they’re practically thanking me for doing it!”

“We need to find a cure,” Geralt mutters. 

   It’s now been nearly three months since Jaskier’s transformation, and the contact in Temaria was unable to help them. They’re now making their way to the druids, and at this point, Jaskier is starting to come to terms with the fact that he might have to adjust to life as a goddess. There are worse things that could have happened to him, honestly. 

There is one thing, though, that he hasn’t done for a variety of reasons that he would very much like to try, and he thinks maybe just maybe Geralt will be willing to help. They’ve barely been apart from one another in these past months, and Jaskier is sure that his request will at worst be met with an irritated silence.

He drinks just enough ale one evening before they head up to their room and cap off the night with a round of cards that he finally works up the courage to both literally and figuratively lay his cards down. 

“Geralt,” I have a proposition. “Now, you can say no if you--” 

“No.” 

“At least let me finish!”

Geralt fixes him with a wry look but waves a hand as if to cede the floor to Jaskier. 

“I would like you to fuck me. Now, before you say no again, let me explain where I’m coming from. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and my reasoning, I’m sure you’ll find, is quite sound. Over the years, you and I have built up a certain level of trust, so I feel confident telling you that a little tumble in the sheets couldn’t possibly harm that. Not for two friends as close as us.” 

Geralt rolls his eyes, right on cue. 

“As a witcher, I know you’re sterile so there’s no risk of, uh, child.” Jaskier really does not want to experience that part of womanhood. The monthly bleeding is already terrible enough and after complaining and complaining Geralt finally bought him potions that helped ease the pain, and then he kept providing them without being asked.

“You want me to fuck you because it won’t hurt our friendship and because you won’t get pregnant,” Geralt says slowly.  

“Well, I also think you’d make it very enjoyable.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“You can say no, but I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Jaskier says, an accusatory note in his voice, just daring Geralt to deny it.  

Deny it he does. “It’s just jarring seeing you like this.”

“That’s nonsense, and you know it. It’s been months. You’ve had plenty of time to get used to me like this.” Jaskier gestures down at his perfectly shaped, lovely body that he would ravish in a heartbeat if presented with the opportunity. Really, Geralt should be getting down on his knees and thanking him. 

Geralt glares at him across the table. 

Jaskier knows Geralt will never hurt him, so he does what he’d want a sexy seductress to do to him if the roles were reversed, and he goes to Geralt and straddles him in his seat.

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice is a low rumble, and Jaskier can see how his amber eyes are going dark. “This is a bad--”

Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck and kisses him, and after a moment Geralt puts his hands on Jaskier’s waist and kisses him back. He can feel the hard outline of Geralt’s cock pressing against his clit and he grounds himself down, chasing that sweet friction. 

He’s losing himself in the kiss, the building ache in his cunt, his breasts pressed against Geralt’s strong chest when Geralt stands, Jaskier’s legs wrapping around him, and walks them to the bed.

   The next morning Jaskier rolls over and opens his eyes to find Geralt looking at him strangely. 

“What?” Jaskier says in a voice that is his but not his. He looks down at himself. His beautiful tits are gone, his hairy chest has returned. He feels sweet relief and joy and a touch of regret which grows into an entire fistful of regret when he catches Geralt’s eyes and realizes that last night would be a memory not to be repeated. His stomach drops. 

Geralt’s brow furrows. “Don’t have to go find the druids then.” 

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed,” Jaskier says testily. 

“I’m not,” Geralt says. “Are you?” 

“I don’t know.” Jaskier sighs and says wistfully, “I was so beautiful.” 

“You did make a beautiful woman,” Geralt agrees. He hesitates then says, “Don’t really mind what I’m seeing now either, though.” 

There’s a moment where Jaskier thinks he must have misheard or misunderstood, but as he meets Geralt’s eyes and Geralt doesn’t look away, Jaskier’s heart begins to hammer. A smile spreads across his face. 

“Leave the sweet-talking to me from now on, Geralt,” he says, not meaning this at all. 

He tugs Geralt to him and Jaskier celebrates the welcome return of his cock. 

   As they ride on from the town, Jaskier begins to work on a song about his time as a woman, which he will always remember fondly.  

“How does this sound? Oh how I’d fix this, I couldn’t be sure / Only to find true love’s cock was the cure .” 

“True love’s cock.” Geralt snorts. “That’s a new one.” 

Jaskier waits for the moment Geralt will tell him it’s not true love. 

The moment never comes.

[inexplicifics]

How long after the Temaria Incident did Griffin marry Marika? How did they even meet each other? 😂

Well, both Griffin and Marika desperately need spouses, for assorted reasons...and both of them know people at Kaer Morhen...

😊Guess we’ll have to wait for the fic to find out from there.

[swordsworns]

♛ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 ♛ — MEI CESARE the HIGH LADY and MEMBER OF THE SMALL COUNCIL of TEMARIA. tales of this FIFTY-ONE year old CIS FEMALE tell of their CUNNING & FEARLESS nature, but beware, for they are also SEVERE & VENGEFUL. the gossips whisper they use SHE/HER pronouns and look strangely like LUCY LIU. but i’ve also heard they bring images of THE SCRAPE OF STEEL AGAINST ITS LEATHER SCABBARD, A CONSTELLATION OF BRUISES ON PALE RIBS AND WHISPERS OF SCHEMES IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT to mind. how will their story unfold?

TW: death and a hint of murder (mayhaps?).

for full effect you can listen to this playlist while reading. wc page should be up soon!

mei cesare was born on a stormy winter night in the highest tower of hearthall. she came into this world kicking and screaming, and she hopes to leave it one day the same way. she was the only living child of the high lord and lady of temaria, their prized possession - their legacy. she grew up surrounded by people fawning over her, never getting more than a few minutes alone. though she could have grown to be a spoiled, sheltered lady, she sprouted a different way - a delicate rose with thorns that easily draw blood, if you’re not careful.

her father personally instructed her in the ways of war, recounting the good and the bad stories from his years in the battlefield. her favorite lessons were the ones to be had in the courtyard. she could disarm and win a hand to hand combat with men twice her size, as early as thirteen. 

she was always a tomboy, never truly enjoyed the lessons in being a lady, but her mother stressed that she was destined for greatness - combat wouldn’t cut it alone. she diligently learned her lessons, for the hope that someday they would be useful to her. mei cesare never had time for things that weren’t useful to her. 

at age seventeen, her mother caught ill, and it was her dying wish to see her daughter married. mei absolutely refused, but her father was stern, and there was no room for arguing. they found her suitor from a lower branch of a house that needed a favorable alliance. she tried to run away, yet that didn’t work. then, she tried to scare off her suitor and eventual husband, arthur. he was a dim, meek man, and her attempts to ruin the betrothal fell on deaf, dumb ears. 

they were married at eighteen, and that was the day mei felt like she died. the first few years of marriage were dutiful, passionless nights, and eyerolls as she watched her husband drink their marriage away. when the crown sought out a new master of law, mei, nine months pregnant and absolutely done with her husbands shit, sent him off to be on the small council and out of her hair. he rarely ever came home - though that was no surprise. he was getting bribed left and right as master of law, letting the corruption and lawlessness grow under his ignorant nose as he wined and slept his way through kingsport. 

during that time, mei fell in love, truly and completely. a gallant knight he was. brave, strong, intelligent, capable. she gave him two children. she was now mother of three, only one being her legitimate child. she always loved her children dearly and equally. though she was a severe and lawful, god fearing woman, her children were her children, and she would not stand for any inequality between them. 

she kept arthur in the dark, though her father was furious at her, and ordered the knight beheaded for treason. he forced mei to watch the execution. after that, she threw herself in the education of her children, trying to keep busy from the heartbreak. her father passed away of a heart attack a few months later, making mei the high lady of temaria. 

when arthur finally came home, he was a different man. his ego had blown up. he was a nasty, prideful man who stank of wine. mei uncovered a scheme he’d devised to send her natural children away. days later, arthur was found in the stables, bottle of wine in hand and kicked in the head by a horse. both deaths are rumored to be of mei’s hand. no one knows if it is true, but anyone to speak them in her hearing loses their tongue. 

now that her husband has passed, she has stepped into the role of master of law. she hates how kingsport is run with the rampant corruption,genuinely despising her husband for the ruin of lawlessness he created, though she’s smart enough not to make any drastic changes with the mental state of the king. instead, she bides her time equally between kingsport and stone’s meadow with her children.