#when is The Witcher season three coming out

[kaiyonohime]

Witcher season three, my thoughts so far (only saw the first half hour of the first episode during baby’s nap).  No spoilers.

The wigs still suck.  The costumes still lack.  The music is good.  The writing is so awful I honestly winced, it sounds like a lot of fanfiction I’ve read over the years.  To a painful trope level.  And not in a good way.  It’s the part of fanfiction that I usually skim because I’m like like ‘yeah, have to get over this part to get to the plot’.

Also, they’re writing Ciri to be like sixteen or something... and yet make her look in her mid twenties.  It’s awkward and weird.

I hate it.  Fucking hell the majority of the rest of the season better be Yennefer and Jaskier snarking at each other to make up for this crap.

[terresdebrume]

I think I want to point at the elephant in the room today

The problem when we have the ever more frequent conversation of how to keep a fandom alive after the show it's based on stops airing is that we tend talk about it in a way that ignores the very real differences between the juggernauts of old fandoms like Star Trek and newer shows like Dead Boy Detectives, namely:

1. The difference in amount of material

2. The accessibility of said material

Part of the reason why Star Trek or The X-Files still have active fans so long after they aired is because those shows had multiple seasons with an average of 20 episodes each. For the X-Files' 11 seasons that's about 200 episodes each with their own storylines, themes, interesting ideas and frustrating mistakes right there to inspire Fanart, fic, meta, and any number of fanwork. I'm not even going to do the math on Star Trek: this show got about a bazillion shows

Dead Boy Detectives, and a lot of genre shows nowadays have like... Eight episodes. Ten, if we're lucky. Fandoms for procedurals or more broadly appealing shows fare better (Lone Star comes to mind, or sitcoms for example) because networks tend to keep them online longer, but genre series get ever shorter with ever fewer opportunities to really grow an audience... Think of all the shows that got popular on Tumblr in the past few years and tell me how many got a proper season? Shadow and Bones was cancelled. My Lady Jane: one season. Gentleman Jack, two (three?). Good Omens: maybe 3, depending on how the network handle the Gaiman situation. The Umbrella Academy got four seasons. Stranger Things, with 5 seasons and 42 episodes managed to equate roughly 2 seasons of the X-Files (probably not even that if you account for episode length). The Witcher currently has 3 seasons for 24 episodes.

Contrast this to shows like Dead Boy Detectives with, again, eight episodes. Maybe 16 if we get really lucky, but I'm not holding my breath. This is just materially WAY LESS soil for a fandom to grow in. It's not that people aren't motivated, it's that as much as you want to keep it going, there's only so much to say about 8 episodes! George Rexstrew, who plays one of the leads, even recently admitted that he's running out of things to say about his performance, and who can blame him? So after a while, you gotta turn to AU which by definition are always going to be potential hits and misses, since they diverge from what brought people to the show in the first place.

I know we're all real good at spinning yarn but sometimes it gets really hard not to run out of fiber.

As for accessibility: the Big Olds benefitted from two things. One, they were broadcast on much wider-reaching channels, if not from the start, then when they eventually made it on public networks. They had a regular play time, and you could stumble onto them by accident, this getting interested and picking it up. And two: the popular shows had a decent chance of getting tape or DVD sets, which made them easier to own and show to your friends so they could binge the story and join you in the fandom

By comparison, look at the barrier of access for Dead Boy Detectives:

Need to have a Netflix account

Need to see it somewhere in your recommendation (good luck if you come in more than a month after it released)

Need to see people talk about it as they binge (need to be in the right place at the right time, and by that I mean where fandom happens since Netflix has a habit of doing zero advertising for new shows)

Need to keep paying for a Netflix account if you wanna rewatch, or figure out how to do a piracy, which is getting more difficult and riskier every year

Need to be willing to get invested in a forever unfinished story

And when on top of that the writing in the first episode is, let's say it frankly, far from the best, that is a LOT of obstacle to overcome for a pretty small sandbox

So like, yeah, sure, we should be willing to keep making a fandom happen after a show ends, but at some point we can't ignore that the effort it takes to keep fandoms alive is getting way more intense than it used to be

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Soul

Summary: When tragedy strikes, Geralt of Rivia seeks comfort in the arms of one woman.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: PG - Abandonment Issues, Child Abandonment, Fluff Parental Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Bathing, Love Confession, Soft!Geralt, Character's Death

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

Geralt rode Roach hard, only deviating from his path to guide the powerful black horse around a tree or rock. He gripped the worn brown reins tightly, feeling them cut into the top of his bare hands as he urged Roach to move faster, foam already starting to gather around his bit. The Witcher's mind raced, desperately trying to push down the power of the news he received from a good friend, while trying to help someone he'd found on the job. He struggled for a few days, trying to push it down, telling himself it didn't hurt.

She had left him almost a century ago, at this point.

Witchers had no emotions, he told himself, as a means to drive them back. It didn't work however, the emotions continued to smash into him.

So, he left in the dead of night, not a word to Anika, Otto, or even Jaskier, of where he was going or why. Though, he was sure Anika would know why. Geralt covered almost a whole league by the end of morning, cutting through the forest outside of Murivel, until he reached a modest clearing and an even more modest, three-room hut constructed in the middle of it, a stone and clay well on the left side, the bucket swaying softly in the breeze.

Roach came to a hard stop, hooves cutting deep grooves in the grassy earth, with Geralt wasting no time in dismounting the stallion and stomping across the yard to the front door. His sore and broken heart rose up with hope that it would swing open and the face of the one he was seeking would appear, to greet him. But, the door didn't open to him, instead he was greeted another way.

“Geralt!” A soft and confused voice called out.

He swung around on his boot heels, his golden eyes zeroing in on you as you stood just passed the tree-line, a basket of herbs and mushrooms balanced on your hip, as you regarded the Witcher. You hadn't seen Geralt in over a year, since he decided he needed to go to Cintra to make sure Ciri was safe from the sea of black and gold he'd seen on the Amell Pass. After the Dragon Hunt. You had heard the thunder of the new Roach's hooves coming up the path to your home, while you were gathering in the forest, and came to see who it was. You were surprised to see Geralt in general, but you were worried by how rushed he seemed.

“Geralt, what's amiss?” You asked, coming to close the gap between you. “Are you well?” You inquired, seeing the unusually deep crease between his brow and across his forehead, and how his complexion was paler, almost matching his hair.

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together for a moment, working up the strength to speak. “I need you.” He finally rasped, his expression breaking into something soft and vulnerable.

“You rode all the way from wherever, just for time with me?” You smirked, tisking.

“Please.” Geralt replied, reaching out to grasp your free hand and squeezing it, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his expression breaking even more.

You frowned at him, all jest dying inside of you, seeing his wall fall before you and the pain he was being crushed underneath. “Let's go inside.” You whispered softly, tilting your head towards your door.

Nodding, Geralt reached out for your basket, but shaking your head and swatting it away gently, you pushed the front door open and put your hand on his arm, guiding him inside. You set your basket on a large table and turned towards the just as large fireplace, grabbing wood from the dog grate and tossed it in. Building it back up, sparks flying up the chimney. You moved to Geralt, who stood motionless beside the table, taking his hand and guided him over to the chair at the head of the table, gently coaxing him to sit down, then knelt before him. Grabbing the heel of his boot and his calf, you tugged the muddy, black leather off and set it underneath the table, followed by its twin. There was dust and mud covering his black clothing. You brushed your palm over his knee and thigh, casting some of it off, before standing up again and starting for the next room, only to have Geralt grasp your wrist and pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he buried his face into your chest, and breathed deep.

You frowned at him, sympathetically brushing your fingers through his hair and pulling it free of its usual tie, his white strands cascading over his shoulders. You nosed the top of his head, caressing the back of his hair and squeezing his bicep, still confused as to why he was there and what was ailing him so much.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his strands. “Tell me, what's happened?” You asked, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “Did you not make it to Ciri in time? Has something happened to her or Jaskier?” You inquired, licking your lips as your heart thundered against his forehead. “I noticed that isn't the Roach you had the last time you were here.” You pointed out, remembering the sweet Chestnut you used to feed and brush, when Geralt stayed with you, but now there was a sturdy black stallion standing in your dooryard.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, they're both fine.” He rasped, turning his head to rest his temple against your collarbone. “As for the last Roach, she was killed by a Chernobog, a few months ago.” He added, softly.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You cooed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Then, what's the matter with my Wolf?”

He was still and quiet again, for a long time, his fingers restlessly toying with the strings at the back of your bodice, before suddenly standing with you still in his arms, and turning to sit you on the chair in his place. He went out the door, rounding the house to the well and dropped the bucket to the bottom. You watched Geralt come back inside with each bucket, holding it in one hand, like it was the weight of one of his swords. Pausing in the open doorway and giving you a hard stare every time, as if he expected to find you moved off the chair or vanished completely. Only then, did he go to your large cauldron, dumping the full bucket in and returning back outside for another.

“Are you going to tell me, what's the matter, Geralt?” You asked, your concern only mounting with his bizarre behavior and irregular moodiness.

“Nothing.” He grunted harshly, setting the cauldron over the fire to boil.

“That's a lie.” You answered, just as sharply, being one of the few people on the Continent brave enough to talk back to the White Wolf in such a manner; other than Jaskier and Ciri. “You wouldn't have come from the bum fuck of Nilfgaard to see me, if something wasn't bothering you.” You insisted, glaring at his back.

Geralt ignored you, heading towards the back rooms of your home and leaving you more worried and annoyed at his behavior. He came back a few minutes later with no shirt on, and your suspicions on his task were answered. Despite what the people of the great Continent thought of Geralt of Rivia, he did not in fact like smelling of death, blood and horse. When he stopped for the winter at Kaer Morhen or with you, he bathed regularly. He just found it more a nuisance to do so while on the Trail, since the next Contract or sleeping rough would only dirty him up again.

Pulling the roiling cauldron off the fire, Geralt carried it to the large, soaking tub you boosted in your bathroom. He filled it almost to the brim, before adding in Lavender and Sage bath salts to the steaming water. A fragrant haze filled the room as he tugged his pants off and tossed them over a chair in the corner. He strode out of the bathroom, returning to you, still sitting where he'd left you. He took your hand and helped you stand, untying the strings of your bodice and tugging down your dress, so it pooled around your feet, before slipping his arm under your knees and an arm around your shoulders, scooping you up against his chest.

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, while he carried you to the bathroom. “I missed you.” You whispered into his ear, as he stepped into the tub, lowering you both into it.

“And I, you.” Geralt replied, holding you in his lap and resting back. “Ciri and Jaskier are well, by the way.” He said, his fingertips stroking the skin of your side, beneath the water. “Ciri is being watched over by Yennefer, who's helping her try and control her magic and Jaskier was with Anika, last I left him.”

“Anika?” You frowned, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Why is Julian with Anika? If he's well.”

Geralt's thick, scarred arms squeezed around you, almost painfully, making you squirm in his lap. “You remember my mother.” He mumbled, barely audible. “Visenna.” He said so quietly, you had to strain to hear it.

“Yes, I recall you telling me of her, a few years after we met.” You murmured, seeing the strained expression on his face. “And that you'd seen her at Sodden Hill. She healed you, after the ghoul bite.”

“I remember bits of my life with my Ma.” He rasped, his grasp on you loosening, but he still held you close to him. ��She smelled like embers, from keeping our measly fires alive during the long nights.” He told you, the crease between his golden eyes slowly vanishing as he went back to that time, tapping into that abandoned little boy, he had never grown out of, but skillfully concealed from those he didn't cherish. “We were quite poor, even though she was skilled as a healer. So, she-” He paused, his voice thickening and his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You looked up at him, seeing the redness in the whites of his eyes and the unshed tears threatening on his lashes. It frightened you to see the Witcher like this. In the fifteen years you'd known him, you'd seen him in many states, but you had never seen Geralt cry. Reaching up, you cupped his scruffy cheek in your hand and thumbed a droplet away, pressing your lips to his jawline.

“She would use her magic to create the most elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.” He continued, tilting his head into your hand. “There was—I would have done anything to make her smile. And yet,” He voice broke again, this time with more than just hurt and abandonment, but with resentment. “The day she left me, she was sick. She needed some water, so I went to get her some, and when I came back to the road...she was gone.” He croaked, pushing his jaw forward and shaking his head, trying to deny the burn of more tears.

His fingertips pressed into the skin of your side and back. “I called for her.” He said weakly, his golden eyes off in the distance. “But she was gone.” He whimpered, the tears finally winning out, dripping off his jaw and into your hair and the bath water.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his neck and hugging your arms around his torso. You had known Visenna had abandoned Geralt. He had told you that bluntly not long after you had met. The torture of her leaving him there, to be taken away to Kaer Morhen, where he'd suffered such agony in his transformation into a Witcher, at just five years old, coupled with the pain he never got over with his mother.

You wondered how Geralt had survived at all.

But no, Geralt was strong, even from a young age.

“She's dead.”

You pulled out of your thoughts, shocked. “She's dead?”

“She was giving aid to some villager and was mistaken as an Elf.” Geralt told you, bringing a hand out of the water to wipe it over his face. “They beat her severely and she later died, at the Temple of Mourning, where Anika was. Which is how I found out.”

“I'm so sorry, Geralt.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, connecting the dots to his arrival. “I hope the two of you were able to make some sort of easement between you, when you last met.”

Geralt pressed his lips together and buried his face into your hair, his throat too tight to speak in the moment. He considered how he and Visenna last met, in the forest outside of Sodden Hill, as he laid feverish and hallucinating from a Ghoul bite to the leg. After saving a poor Merchant, who was trying to bury the dead from a camp Nilfgaard had attacked. At first, she had tried to conceal her identity from him, pretending to be Renfri, Yennefer and finally, you, before he managed to discover who it really was. Triggered by her belief that, People linked by Destiny, will always find each other.

He asked her what she thought of his eyes. Demanding to know, if she knew what they did to improve a Witcher's eyes. Telling her that it didn't always work. She had begged him to stop. Calling him by his name, only for Geralt to reject her right to do so, like she had rejected him. He had begged to know if she knew how many boys actually made it through the Trials. Tears filled both of their eyes as they stared at each other in the darkness.

In the end, his Ma had left him, again, fading into the night, trying to convince him she was just a dream and he would never get the answer he wanted.

So, had he made peace with his mother abandoning him, forcing him on the Path of the Witcher?

No. Geralt decided in the end, he had not.

The only thing Geralt did know was he wanted you. You were the first person he had thought of, upon finding out about his mother's death. Wanting to feel you against him and needing the comfort only you were able to provide. You shifted out of Geralt's lap, moving around him, while reaching over the side of the tub, grabbing the small cup that sat on the foot board there. Dipping it into the water and gently pouring it over Geralt's silvery-white strands, you set aside and took up a round, solid bar of honey and chamomile scented soap, using it to work his hair into a rich lather. Geralt moaned, feeling your fingers massage his scalp, resting forward to prop his elbows on his bent knees, eyes falling shut.

“I love you.” He murmured, quietly.

You stopped, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. “You've never said that before.” You said, looking around at him, mouth softly agape.

“No?” Geralt rasped, cocking a brow over his shoulder at you.

“Not once, in all these years.” You assured him, your hand gently massaging the scarred muscle of his neck.

He turned to you, causing the cooling water to slosh over the edge. “Then, I have a great deal of making up to do.” He cooed, reaching out to cup your face in his rough palm. “Because I do. I love you. Out of everyone, besides perhaps Jaskier and Vesemir, you know me better than anyone, and no one has ever taken better care of me than you have.” He told you, his face betraying the emotions a Witcher truly had, but guarded for their most treasured person, and not those of an abandoned child, rather those of a man in love.

“I love you too, Geralt.” You assured him, turning your head to kiss his hand. “And I will always care for you, me bleidd.” You whispered, picking up the cup to continue washing his hair.

[kuwdora]

Witcher Recs - Femslash - Sorceress Edition part 1

I come bearing more recs from my collection of bookmarks and downloads and stories I found in my saved tabsets from the last few years - and a few recent finds, too. There's always so much good fic out here and this is just a small recs list: 16 recs across two pairings. I love tag diving for femslash because I always find so many new gems when I look again. Witcher femslash is a wonderful bounty that I can't get enough of, so let me share this bounty with you! This post will contain Witcher Femslash Recs featuring Sorceresses. Fringilla/Francesca and Philippa/Triss are the theme of this post. All Witcher canons represented and will be noted in each rec.

Fringilla/Francesca

Our Feet Make Flowers Bloom by @ahh-fxck. 638w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. Touching. Psychic abilities, tenderness.

This is gorgeous prose, so full of tenderness and poetry and oh my god, it had my heart aching for Fringilla finally having a little bit of warmth and sunlight in her life. And Francesca being so gentle and kind! It’s so good.

Three Queens by @salamanderinspace. 678w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca.Post-canon, hair-pulling, love. When Fringilla and Francesca kiss it's a study in contrasts.

This ficlet is also absolutely awe-inspiring and beautiful, full of such tenderness that makes one ache to the depths of their soul. It’s so, so lovely. The prose really does me in here and I love coming back to it when I need some beautiful softness.

Submission by LadyV_writes. 4298w. Explicit. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. “Submission can be enjoyable under the right circumstances. Trust me.”

Extraordinarily hot. Fringilla trusting Francesca enough to fall apart. ❤️ Like, 10 million kinds of hot for Francesca guiding Fringilla through the process of letting go.

A Reward by chryysaskk. 66w. Gen. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. “It’s a beautiful lullaby,” she hears her voice and she didn’t control it, but she found it sweeter than usual. She was rarely rewarded for not controlling.

This is fluff, but it’s a fluffy kind of ache since we know how canon turns out. But for a sweet, sweet moment, Fringilla and Francesca are okay and the world is full of possibilities as long as they are together.

make sure nobody sees you leave by @acemoppet TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. 260w. Mature. Angst, Secret relationship. Hurt no comfort. Kissing. “We tell no one.”

I can’t lie, I love secrets that characters keep. Secrets are hot. This is an angsty achey ficlet that made me fold in on myself. I want everything for them, but at least they can take these fleeting moments with each other.

the eye of the storm by @dancingwiththefae. 1279w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. Post-Thanedd, nudity, bathing/washing, hurt/comfort. She gently wiped away the blood. Francesca's fingers dug into her arms tight. She didn't need to say anything, the haunted expression in her eyes told her all she needed to know. All they had was each other.

The ache and hurt/comfort in this fic is so good, I read it three times. In the quietness after Thanedd, Fringilla and Francesca have each other and it’s wonderful.

wine-drunk by @limerental. 729w. Mature. TWN. Fringilla/Francesca. Post season 3, grief/mourning, alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort, angst. In the wake of Thanned, Fringilla and Francesca both struggle with sleep.

Love that this fic takes what we saw of Fringilla’s experience in season 3 and weaves that pain throughout. I also love it when Lim is writing Fringilla POV. This is so achey, so full of hurt and angst but Fringilla and Francesca do have each other. Even though the pain and trauma Fringilla’s been through, I’m left wondering if it’s enough.

Philippa/Triss

Into the wishy-washy dark that cannot let go by @sargassostories. 10,611w. Explicit. TWN. Philippa/Triss. Slow burn, Hanahaki disease, self-worth issues, d/s undertones, exhibitionism, domestic bliss. Triss Merigold survived the Battle of Sodden Hill-- and wished she hadn't. That is, until she experienced a mysterious mage healing her in her dreams, whose teasing, tempting touches begin to bring her back to life. Philippa Eilhart has taken a particular interest in a little witch's recovery, but what begins as a purely mercenary effort to gain an ally grows… complicated.

The hurt/comfort in this is fucking incredible. Triss is having a hard time with the world moving on after Sodden. Philippa’s own interest becoming intense and dark and twisted. The Hanahaki was weaved throughout the fic was really interesting and I thought added to the narrative of Triss’ pain and journey through the feelings and physical/psychological/emotional agonies she’d been enduring. I really fucking love this fic.

Wish such sugar’d words by @limerental. 5334w. Mature. TWN/book canon blending. Philippa/Triss. 5+1 things, lesbian political subterfuge, manipulation, pining, friends with benefits. Five times that Philippa and Triss use one another and one time perhaps that does not matter.

I always love the way lim does show/book canon blending and this fic is a great example of that. Giving just enough book elements to ground the fic in the vibes/politics/aesthetics of the world, he’s really zeroed in on the show versions of Philippa and Triss. Fic with the characters from the show always hit the sweet spot for me for this pairing because we were robbed of any canon interaction for them.

I Don’t Know How This One Ends Til I Die by Holliday_inn. 1248w. Explicit. Book canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, more angst and smut, not major character death but could be. Philippa reflects on her life and relationships when she believes something’s been lost.

The Philippa POV in this is reallllllllllllllllly amazing. I don’t usually think of Philippa experiencing emotions, and this is a great fic showcasing her almost experiencing some grief and then attempting to sidestep the pain in favor of pleasure. A really interesting character study. I love seeing how this author writes all the Lodge characters.

This Is The Way by owlhart (saidanon). 1784w. Gen. Book/game canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, softness, insecure Triss, tenderness. Philippa held her gaze, leaning forward and touching her forehead against hers as she placed Triss’ hand over her chest. The rhythmic thumping of Philippa’s heart pulsed against Triss’ fingertips, steady and soothing.  The tears fell from Triss’ eyes and Philippa shushed her gently, giving her hand a little squeeze and pressing it harder against her chest, fingers splayed between the gaps of hers. It beats - “For you and only you.”

I’d call this a relationship study and one thing I really like about this fic is how it uses the seasons to help ground the fic in the passage of time while also giving some wonderful glimpses into how Philippa Triss’ relationship looks when they’re together. It’s a poignant Triss POV, full of softness, some of Triss’ insecurities and does a great job of showing how Philippa acts in terms of love and affection.

The Rescue by finiarel. 2100w. Teen. Book canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, hurt/comfort, Triss rescuing Philippa. They had taken Philippa Eilhart. Triss Merigold with the help of others is taking her back.

!!! The whole premise of this fic is great and I gobbled it up because Triss being the one to help rescue Philippa from torture and pain is *chefs kiss* opposite of what I might first associate with these two. The hurt/comfort in this is yummy as fuck if you enjoy that trope, but of course Philippa is in this fic and so the comfort part gets turned about and Triss gets insecure and needy all over again because of how much she needs Philippa.

Here For It by beyondthesilence. 738w. Gen Book canon. Philippa/Triss. Angst, hurt/comfort, owl Philippa. A one-shot about a sorceress dealing with emotions.

This fic is amazing. Short, not so sweet, but A++ glimpse at Philippa “dealing” with emotions, with an amazing ending and visual that’s gonna be stuck in my head for ages.

change of pace by scredgirl. 1285w. Explicit. Book/game canon. Philippa/Triss. PWP. Triss and Phil power dynamics. On the importance of sex as a relaxation method and the top/bottom balance in a relationship.

This is so fucking hot. Like, absolutely 100% hot with the sex but yes, especially hot look at the power dynamic in this relationship.

Focus by scredgirl. 2257w. Explicit. Book canon. Philippa/Triss. PWP. Smut at Thanedd. The banquet on Thanedd is a dramatic affair, and when Triss's mood turns sour, she can think of one good way to cope.

Thanedd PWP that I also wolfed down. It’s hot, but also this author brings an amazing look at Philippa and Triss’ power dynamic and how it plays out in another smutty scene, but with specific context of why Triss is particularly needy in that moment. This is chefs kiss hot on a character level, in addition to being fucking hot as hell with the sex.

Entanglement by Astrarian. 12262w. Game canon. Philippa/Triss. PWP. Bath sex. Post Blindingly Obvious TW3 quest. After liberating Philippa Eilhart from the bathhouse, Triss takes Philippa to her room at the Chameleon, where she can explain in private why they need Philippa's help. Talking isn't all they do.

This is shameless, utter horny PWP. Smut. It’s peak sapphic filth. It’s erotic. It’s also an incredible example of “what does the sex tell us about the characters headspace?” type of smutty fic. How do they view the world? It’s 12k long and the beginning shows the reader where Philippa and Triss are respectively in the context of The Witcher Wild Hunt game (briefly linked the side quest it’s nominally related to for skimming purposes), but the fic goes so deep into the headspace and character desires because of the smut. What Triss needs, what she wants. What Phil needs and what she also wants. The d/s in this is bar none is so fucking good I think my brain whited out.

I also need to repeat: this is so very extremely, extremely horny and sexy. 🔥🔥🔥

Previously on Kuwdora's Witcher Recs:

Villains and Bad Guys Part 1

Istredd Recs

[asexualbookbird]

SPOOKY SEASON IS UPON US!

I crafted a lot this month, but can't share it yet so there's not too much to report here. Been watching a lot of Dropout and having fun with that. My tv started smelling like burning plastic so I'm out a Large Screen for things. Days are getting shorter and I'm walking at night, but have to change that because it's not even the end of DST and I already miss the sun. Got halfway through Swordtember before dropping it for more exciting projects. Doodles a lot of clouds. I don't know! Days went by and here I am!

Network Effect by Martha Wells ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - A reread to prepare myself for System Collapse. Still an emotional banger. I am normal about our favorite SecUnit and Asshole Research Transport. So incredibly normal.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sascha Lamb ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - YOU ARE THE FRIEND TO MY SOUL!!!! I want to reread this again and again, it's an absolute DELIGHT. The narrator was great and I'm glad I did the audiobook because hearing all the yiddish healed my soul in some way. Gay in every sense of the word.

The Hourglass Throne by KD Edwards ⭐⭐⭐⭐- My big hangup on this is the integration of COVID. You're telling me you found a magical cure for a disease that has killed and disabled millions and you're leaving it up to the non Atlanteans to figure things out on their own? Other than that, it was fun and emotional as I've come to expect from this series. Excited to learn it's not a trilogy and there are way more books planned to come.

Painted Devils by Margaret Owen ⭐⭐⭐ - Fun, but ultimately a disappointment coming off of Little Thieves. Way more focused on Vanja and Emeric's relationship, which is Fine, but took away from the things I liked about LT (heists! Mischief! Mayhem!) Not thrilled that everything came back to Vanja in the end, and something rubbed me wrong about how Big Happy Family they were immediately. Not to mention the guy everyone hates is RIGHT. Stop and think WHY this creature wants your blood! Don't give it freely! Will still read Holy Terrors because of course I am.

When Among Crows by Veronica Roth ⭐⭐⭐ - I was lovingly bullied into reading this because Roth isn't my favorite author but it's been long enough since Allegiant that I gave it a chance anyway. I'd rather just replay The Witcher. Not to say All Polish Folklore Is The Same, but this was so. Empty feeling. Three stars for the monsters, but that's all from folklore. There's no original world building here. Also funny she still made it about Chicago. I'm not complaining, I really do think that's funny.

System Collapse by Martha Wells ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- THE SYSTEM SURE HAS COLLAPSED! I want to tell SecUnit I'm proud of it, but I can't because it's not ready to hear it. The one downside is I'm once again out of new Murderbot to read. Emotional, as always. Sarcastic, as it knows no other way to be.

October, my love. I had plans to do Drawtober, but I'm not really feelings it so I'll do other things. I have crafts to work on, and a stack of books to read. I'm coming to terms with the fact I will not be completing my 24 books in 2024 list, which is mine own fault for not really focusing on it until uh. Now. But Whatever! I'm vibing! Happy fall! Let's get spooky!

[endiness]

Debunking misinformation about Netflix's The Witcher (Part 6)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

"Henry Cavill is the only one out of the cast and crew that knows anything about the source material and cares about it."

Joey Batey has read the books more times than Henry Cavill has. (3 times as of 2023 vs once in 2018.)

Henry Cavill himself has basically admitted that he wouldn't want to go up against Joey when it comes to knowledge of the books and both Freya Allan and Kim Bodnia have praised Joey for how knowledgeable he is and that he could "give Henry a run for his money."

Henry Cavill also hadn't even read the books and had likely only ever really played TW3 (and not even the DLC for it) when he first met with Lauren and, given that he thought that the books were based off the games, it's likely that he never bothered to google or wiki or research the franchise in any way (despite proclaiming himself to be a lore buff) as surely he would've found out that the games were actually based off the books if he had (or, y'know, if he had just been paying attention to the game credits as the books are the first thing in the credits.) Yet despite all of that, he's said this:

"I didn't even have the need to prepare myself for the role. Because I breathe, I live this universe every day. I already got numerous opportunities to think about this character while I was playing the games. My preparation was already made before the casting started!"

Meanwhile Therica Wilson-Read had played the games, she set out to read the books as soon as she had the opportunity to audition, she goes back and reads bits of the books if not the full series before each season, and she even goes on the wiki and watches youtube videos to refresh herself on the universe.

Therica's book collection (with color coded notes!), btw:

Mecia Simson also jumped straight into the books and read them all as soon as she was cast and will go on the wiki to research things.

Cassie Clare on her preparation as Philippa.

Btw, Joey had less than 24 hours to prepare for his audition and in that time he memorized 2-3 scenes, wrote an entire song, and showed up in costume to audition.

Therica is also so knowledgeable about the books and the franchise that MyAnna Buring will go to her for advice on her character and understanding what's happening when she needs things explained to her.

Mahesh Jadu also went to Joey for advice on his character when he was first cast because Joey's known to be so knowledgeable about the books.

Joey's also the one who's gotten book scenes and characters written into the show, btw.

Freya talking about getting things from the books into the show, too:

Anya talking about book moments she's a fan of:

Also Anya making a book reference to BoF:

Joey making a book reference to what a diary by Jaskier would look like:

Lauren's talked about her hiring process for the writers which obviously includes having read the books.

Tomek Baginski, who worked on all three games btw, has talked about growing up with the books as a teenager in Poland.

There's loads more examples than this, but this argument is quite obviously complete and utter bullshit anyway and I don't really want to look up every little example proving that, so. I'll just let the post end on this note:

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

A kiss like they're trying to convince the other to love them and/or a kiss in front of someone they hold captive

Yennskier

Here's a little bit of both, set in an alternate timeline where they managed to capture Rience during season 3, episode 1:

“We should probably talk about what happened in Kaer Morhen,” Jaskier says in what he hopes is a casual way.

Yennefer looks at him incredulously. “Does now seem like a good time for this conversation, bardling?”

“Why not?” Jaskier shrugs. “He’s not going anywhere.”

They both turn to look at Rience, who scowls back at them from the chair they’ve bound him to in dimeritium chains. Jaskier can’t help but feel a thrill of vindication at seeing the fire fucker as trussed up and helpless as he was a year ago in Oxenfurt, even as he keeps catching himself rubbing his fingers together anxiously. It helps that Yennefer is standing next to him and Geralt and Ciri are just in the other room with Yarpen.

Rience sneers at Yennefer. “What’s one of Tissaia’s girls doing, working for a witcher?”

Jaskier snorts. Even if they hadn’t already figured out that Rience isn’t the mastermind trying to capture Ciri, that would have given it away. No one with any sense would think Yennefer a lackey. Leaning closer to Yennefer, he says, “We really should talk about this.”

“About what?” She sighs, clearly realizing she’s not going to be able to evade this. “A lot happened in Kaer Morhen. Do you want to talk about Voleth Meir? All the money you still owe Ciri after all the times she trounced you at cards?”

“She did not…” Jaskier draws himself up, realizes he’s being distracted, and lets out a huff. “About our last night there.”

Yennefer doesn’t visibly react, but there’s a pointedness in the way she turns back to Rience. “Who’s your puppetmaster?”

Rience bares his teeth at her. “I’m no one’s—”

“I don’t believe for a second that you’re the one calling the shots. You’re a one trick pony, aren’t you? You can harness fire, but not much else. That portal wasn’t yours.”

“I just can’t help but notice that you’re acting a bit… off,” Jaskier says carefully, because he and Yennefer may be friends now, but he still doesn’t put it past her to curse his bollocks off.

Yennefer closes her eyes. “Did you learn this interrogation technique from Phillipa?”

“Gods, no.” Jaskier barks out a laugh. “Phillipa wouldn’t let me anywhere near an interrogation.”

“I suppose that’s why Redania is still standing.”

“See? That was almost mean. That was the first mean thing you’ve said to me in three days, and it wasn’t even in your top ten best jabs! Something is clearly amiss. Are you a doppler? Are you dying? Did you hit your head in the skirmish yesterday? Melitele, are you actually plotting my demise? Is this your way of trying to lure me into a false sense of security? Because it isn’t working, Yennefer.”

“If you want him dead, you can just let me out of these chains.” Rience snaps his fingers menacingly and Jaskier can’t help but step back, even though no flames appear.

Yennefer throws out a hand and Rience’s chair flies backward, slamming against the wall and capsizing. He yelps as his head bounces off the ground and lies there, groaning.

“Yenn?” Geralt calls from the next room. “Jaskier?”

“We’re fine!” Lowering her voice, Yennefer hisses, “This isn’t the time.”

“Well, it has to be the time, because you keep avoiding me. Is this about what happened between us? Because you didn’t seem to have any regrets the next morning? In fact, you asked…” He trails off, pieces starting to slide into place.

“I asked you to come with me, Geralt, and Ciri,” she says through gritted teeth. “And you said no. Years of you popping up at the most inconvenient times, bardling, and the one time I want you to stay, you left.”

“But…” Jaskier opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words. When he recovers his wits, all he can squeak is, “I told you I was needed at Oxenfurt.”

“Bullshit. You told me yourself that the Sandpiper organization would run just fine without you. The only thing you did going back to Oxenfurt was put yourself in Phillipa and Dijkstra’s sights.”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t want to come with you just to watch you and Geralt play house while I was just there so you could keep me out of trouble.”

It’s her turn to look taken aback. “What?”

“You said so yourself, you wanted me to come with you so I wouldn’t get myself killed in Oxenfurt. You, Geralt, and Ciri are a family, bound by destiny. I’m not—” He’s getting too close to all the things he doesn’t want to say to her, so he looks away. “I’m happy to play the fun Uncle Jaskier whenever you need me to. But the thing about fun uncles is they show up, let you win at cards a few times, and then they leave before the joke gets old.”

Yennefer doesn’t look exasperated anymore; she just looks sad. That’s somehow worse. “It took Geralt months before he would talk to me about anything but the weather, Ciri’s training, or telling me to duck because someone was trying to stab me. I have never once slept under the same roof as him and Ciri, even when we barely had the coin to afford one lodging, never mind two. It took until the winter before he let me inside to break bread with them. The shadow of what I did hung over us every day. We weren’t playing house, we were on the run, and you should have fucking been there.”

“Yenn—”

She talks over him. “You were the only person who could look at me when we were at Kaer Morhen. I asked you to come with us because I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” he whispers.

Her jaw clenches stubbornly, but she doesn’t answer.

Carefully, he reaches out to take her by the wrist, tugging her closer. “Watching the three of you leave Kaer Morhen was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. If I had known you really wanted me there, I would have followed you in a heartbeat.”

Her lips twitch into a half-smile. “Did you really think I was asking you to come just to be nice?”

“Foolish, I know.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I’ll stay this time.”

“What about the Sandpiper?”

“Vespula does most of the Sandpipering these days. I’m being watched too closely by the RSS.” Jaskier brings her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Yennefer looks like she wants to deny it, because gods forbid she or Geralt admit to being people with feelings, but she nods. “I’m sorry if I’ve been too kind to you. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank the gods. It made my skin crawl.” He leans down to rest their foreheads together. “Let me stay, Yenn.”

She doesn’t answer, but lifts her face so that he can close the gap between them and kiss her. It’s a tentative thing, not like the desperate, hungry kisses they exchanged on their last night in Kaer Morhen, as weeks of longing—well, probably years of longing, if Jaskier is being honest with himself—bubbled to the surface. There will be time for those later, once they’ve figured out who Rience is working for and ensured that Ciri is safe.

Across the room, there’s a noise of disgust. “If you’re going to make me watch this, I’d rather you just gouge my—”

Yennefer throws her hand out, not pulling her lips away from Jaskier’s. There’s a thud, a yelp, then silence.

“Don’t kill him yet,” Jaskier says, breaking the kiss to press his lips against her throat. “We haven’t gotten any answers out of him.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Geralt’s, the easily distractible fucker. He’s off chattering away with Yarpen while we do all the hard work.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes and mutters something that’s undoubtedly insulting under her breath, but she kisses Jaskier again, so that’s alright.

***

Kiss prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome @ladykardasi (sorry, it wouldn't let me tag your Witcher blog)

[cailenbraern]

Not sure if I can fully articulate my thoughts about Jaskier’s growth as an artist throughout the seasons of The Witcher but I'm going to give it a go.

Because when we meet him in season 1 , he's more or less just starting out. He's fresh from Oxenfurt and determined to make a name for himself on the continent. The trouble is, he's got nothing to draw on. He's still young so his experience is negligible. He performs songs about monsters and creatures with little accuracy or meaning, and we meet him being jeered and pelted with food.

Meeting Geralt gives him a new inspiration for original songs, although he's not truthful, particularly in Toss a Coin. As Geralt said, that's not what happened, and Jaskier responds with respect doesn't make history. He's still too young and too inexperienced to realise what impact his songs can have, and he's solely determined to improve the reputations of Witchers along with his own reputation.

The two other songs in season 1 are Fishmongers Daughter, which I'm not going to discuss in any detail, and Her Sweet Kiss. Now one cane argue that the latter is heavily drawn from personal emotion and feeling, but the end result is a fairly normal ballad style of song with poetry as lyrics and vivid imagery and metaphors. It's a start, but Jaskier still has a long way to go.

Then we get to season 2, where we find Jaskier in the early stages of recognition. We see him performing in a packed bar, with accompaniment, and the crowd are lapping it up. It helps that the song he's singing comes, as per his own words, from the heart. Burn Butcher, Burn is 100% emotion, 100% authentic, and gone is the poetry. The lyrics are raw and passionate.

Despite this, we're led to believe that he found his fame with The Golden One. In contrast with BBB, this song lacks any emotional punch. It's purely a story or anecdote set to music. A fun little ditty, but unless you can suspend your disbelief, if open to criticism. As happens when attempting to smuggle the Elves onto the ship.

Now, we know that at this point, Jaskier has done and seen and experienced far more things than he had in season 1, and this has left an impact on him. He has matured and developed his sense of empathy and his kindness so much more than the immature travelling bard showed in Posada, thanks tp witnessing the violence and persecution of the elves, while also dealing with his own broken heart. Yet he's still clinging on to his want and desire to be respected and applauded for his skill and talent in writing and singing songs, so we see that he does not take criticism well.

More happens in season 2 to shape and form him, Rience's torture for one, the massacre at Kaer Morhen, his friendship with Yennefer and his mending (such as it is) of his friendship with Geralt along with the continuing politics all across the continent.

I do have a soft spot for Whoreson Prison Blues. The first two verses are beautiful, followed by a very crude, very catchy chorus. I can't imagine he would include it in future sets, but it's so personal to him in that moment that I love it.

Little wonder that by Season Three, we are met with yet more changes in our bard. His words to Radovid stating that he doesn't 'do pretty' suggest to me that he has consciously decided to move away from filling his songs with poetry and imagery and is focused more on honesty and truth. Extraordinary Things which immediately follows is a perfect demonstration of Jaskier singing openly and from the heart.

But what I wanted to get to in this long winded post, is that this is the season we finally see the Emotional Impact Jaskier's songs have on other people. No criticisms, no jokes, just the power of his music.

Whatever your opinion on Radovid and his motivations, Extraordinary Things affected him. You can see this in his reaction as he hears it for the first time, and he so clearly can't get it out of his head after hearing it only one time, that he goes above and beyond to learn it.

Next is Ciri, and we see Jaskier singing a lullaby (which he may or may not have written himself, jury's out on that) to her. Later, in the desert, she sings the lullaby back to herself, drawing strength and courage from it. This power has been given by Jaskier through his singing, making her feel safe and loved in a vulnerable moment.

Finally, Eternal Flowers, which I'll say here, is the best I've ever heard Joey sing, both on the album version and in the live performance on the show. He has his lute, but he lays it down like laying down a weapon. It's just him, stripped bare, open, vulnerable, honest, true. This is not his song, but he feels the emotion and the message as thought it was. His empathy is shining. It moves him to tears, but not only him, the Dryads also feel the emotion he is channelling, and it moves them to tears.

I don't have much of a conclusion to this ramble, but TL;DR, Jaskier’s songwriting and art has evolved over the three seasons and his bardic power is a might force to be reckoned with. He will be remembered long after Valdo for his honesty and beauty.

Not pretty. Real.

[chaosandorder46]

Master fic list

I decided it was time to make a master list. 🤷‍♀️

Witcher

Tissaia/Yennefer centric

1. I’m OK, You’re OK (6108 words; uni AU)- Tissaia's anxiety is not under control. Yennefer totally gets it, and Triss is a therapist, because of course, she is.

2. And Then There Were Three (26,290 words; domestic fluff)-Tissaia and Yennefer are happily married, and want a child to complete their family. The process won't be easy, but they have each other and their ride or die friend group. Some fluff, some angst, and shenanigans arise on their journey.

3. Self Control (1,149 words; fluff and smut)- Dr. Tissaia de Vries has legendary self control. Unless Yennefer of Vengerberg is in the room.

4. Come to my Office, Please (3,123 words; Eventual smut)-A private message gets sent to the entire group and puts a series of events into action.

5. Stars Fell on Aretuza (1,210 words; hurt/comfort)-It's the first Ascension Ball since the Thanedd Coup, and the first in decades not coordinated by Tissaia de Vries.

6. You Mistake the Stars (31,647 words; whump)- Yennefer saw Vilgefortz as a way to get off of the pig farm, but ended up in a worse situation. When she casts an errant portal and ends up on the Isle of Thanedd, she meets a cast of characters that will change her life.

7. Such a Good Turkey (2,606 words, crack fic)- It's close to Thanksiving on The Continent and no one has any chill.

8. I Might Love You More than Coffee (46,484 words; fluff)- Yennefer is intrigued by a mysterious new regular at her coffee shop, The Lodge. I'm no barista, so I'm relying on my extensive coffee consumption experience for the details on this one.

9. Le Tits Now! (3,939 words; crack fic)-It's the holiday season and everyone is in various states of festiveness. Shenanigans to follow...

10. And I Swear My Breath Turned Silver the Day Your Hair Did (4,942 words; angst with a happy ending)-I've never really written a real fix it for the Thanedd Coup before. I pretty much just ignore it by writing modern AUs or insinuate that everything turned out ok.

This is a somewhat canon compliant (until it's not) fix it for the Thanedd Coup fall out. I've had it in progress for a while and seem to be having trouble working on my other fic until this one is done.

11. What’s Lost is not Lost…Keep Looking! (1,380 words; crack fic)-Ciri's beloved stuffy is missing. Tissaia and Yen are ready to go all Liam Neeson from Taken, but the answer may be closer than they think.

12. Now the Air I Tasted and Breathed (Has Taken a Turn) (WIP; angst with a happy ending)-Ok, so....remember the musical episode of Grey's Anatomy (Song beneath the song)? Um...this is the Witcher version of that. Kind of, though (in my imagination) the characters aren't singing, it's just a montage of scenes with the song playing. If you aren't familiar with Black by Pearl Jam, listening is a good pre-reading activity. :)

13. How did we get THIS way? (3,933 words; crack treated seriously) - An alternate version of Rinde if Tissaia had shown up a bit later. OR...Tissaia de Vries accidentally crashes an orgy.

14. Nothing Sweeter Than a Bitter Cup of Coffee (13,681 words; light angst and crack)-More coffee shop shenanigans ensue when Rita shares some news with Tissaia.

15. More Indelible than Ink (WIP, fluff)- Tissaia is the proprietor of deVries Ink and Paper Shop and leads a very quiet, normal life...that is until a stunning raven-haired tattoo artist walks into her store.

Sabrina/Triss centric

1. The Kids are Alright (5,399 words; mutual pining)-Sabrina breaks her arm badly teaching novices non-magical self defense. Rita and Triss help her and Triss uses her chaos. The healer becomes the patient and Rita is sick of their shit.

2. Downtime (1,034 words, PWP?)- Sabrina's office has a network downtime and she needs something (or someone) to do.

3. What We Lost at Sodden (8,858 words; hurt/comfort)- This is another Sodden Hill story with a focus on Sabrina and Rita's experiences. I feel like Sabrina was too OK, too soon after Sodden, and I would love to have seen more of Rita's experience being charged with holding down the fort, knowing her friends were fighting for, and losing their lives.

4. The Things I Regret (2,036 words; hurt/comfort)- Written on the the one year anniversary of my mom's death. We had a very complicated relationship and I've been surprised at how I've felt since she died, vs. how I thought I would feel. I also had lunch recently with a friend who has gone no-contact with her mother due to her refusal to acknowledge her childhood trauma. These human experiences are always so interesting to me...if a bit painful. So, why not write about it? 😁

So, once again poor Sabrina gets to be a stand in for therapy. I mainly chose her because of her conduit moment, we know she has some issues there. 😁

5. Put Out the Fire in Your Head and Lay With Me Tonight (2,226 words; fluff and smut)-Sabrina is exhausted and stressed. Triss helps her relax. This is all fluff with a little bit of smut and nearly no plot. Just like I like to write. 😈😍

6. Burnout (10,501 words; hurt/comfort)-Sabrina is burnt out and coping as only Sabrina can, which is to say, not at all.

7. Aretuza (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair) (1,465 words; tooth rotting fluff)- This is a snapshot of an Aretuza where they all live happily ever after, even if the novices are a bit ...incapable.

8. The world was on fire (and no one could save me but you) (22,760 words; angst with a happy ending)-IMO, this is the angstiest thing I've written, so be warned. None of the major characters die (I could never) but there is some death.

9. The 14th on the Hill (8,985 words; angst with a happy ending)-Another spin on Sodden, but this one pulls from book lore as well as Netflix lore and HCs.

Group shenanigans

1. Icks (1,116 words; crack fic)-Tissaia learns a new term. Everyone shares an ick in their relationship.

2. Triss’s Greenhouse (429 words; crack fic) -Tissaia needs to relax and Triss has something for that.

3. Beige Flags (770 words; crack fic)-Tissaia is slowly learning tik tok. She needs an explanation of beige flags.

4. Another Fic Where Triss is Stoned, but with Pokemon (965 words; crack fic)- This is a crack fic, but based on a real life conversation. No need to take this seriously. :) This is based on a video game called pal world That is essentially a rip off of pokémon... And they have guns.

5. Hanging Around (5,593 words, crack treated seriously)- Ok. I was inadvertently sent on a side quest to tell an important, and very serious story. It is based on the delightful video below which gave me several much needed laughs. This is set in the AUMC universe where Tissaia is a pathologist, Yennefer and Rita work in the hospitals PR department, Triss is a nurse and married to Sabrina, who manages the lab. The slides in question are stained blood and bone marrow which are used to microscopically diagnose blood disorders, such as leukemia. I think that is all the pre-reading needed.🤭

6. After Sodden (29,044 words; modern AU; slow burn?)- Ciri is an environmental activist, but accidentally commits a bit of eco-terrorism. She's now a fugitive and turns to Yennefer for help.This was inspired by a Tumblr prompt...I have taken a LOT of creative liberties here. (Read: I don't follow instructions well).

Wheel of Time

• I (Critically) Care A Lot (7,677 words; Hospital AU)- Moraine and Siuan have a tense working relationship. Or do they?

• You’re Going to Make Me…Late (8,493 words; hospital AU)-Siuan applies for a new job.

• I’d walk to the depths of a world down below (and demand to get back what some circumstance stole) (1,867 words; crack)-Siuan is dead, like...dead dead. And Moiraine has to go to The Underworld to get her back.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 8

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Burn Butcher Burn" - The Witcher, Season 2 Soundtrack (performed by Joey Batey)

Chapter Warnings: suicide attempt

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: if you have read this fic, liked it, reblogged it, or left comments THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. keep the comments coming bc i love hearing your feedback (and like tinkerbell, i need applause to live).

Chapter 7: I've Also Survived, No Thanks to You

After The Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion thought he was going to get a break from adventuring and life on the road. Life, however, appeared to have other plans. As he’d expected, when the tadpole was evicted from his brain, Astarion lost his ability to walk in the sun. His loss of the sun was probably the only reason he wasn’t exactly ready for the battle against the illithids and The Netherbrain to be over. The sun began burning his skin as soon as it was high enough in the sky, so he could not even help get Fallon back to The Elfsong, running towards the sewers as fast as he could so he could get there through The Emperor’s old hideout. 

He was the person who spent the first tenday of Fallon’s mental breakdown at her bedside, because unlike his companions, he couldn’t exactly go anywhere (that, and he didn’t want to with Fallon being in the state she was in). The early days were days Astarion never expected that Fallon would ever remember because of how upset she was. He’d never seen the elven woman like that before, and it scared the shit out of Astarion to see someone he’d always believed to be so incredibly strong and unshakeable become a catatonic shell of herself. 

Astarion only ever left her when he needed to feed and always made sure that Fallon was not alone while he was gone. On one of the last nights he stayed with Fallon, she almost died on his watch. No one was available to cover for him, and there was no way Astarion was going to feed on his friend, not when she’d barely eaten enough to keep herself alive. So he took the risk; he bade Fallon goodbye and promised to be back in an hour. Upon returning, he found Fallon in the kitchen, swaying from malnourishment, mixing a potion together. It only took Astarion a few seconds to figure out what she was attempting to make, he could smell it. When he stopped her…he’d never seen her so angry before. 

“Astarion, I swear by the nine hells if you do not give that back to me I will murder you.”

He believed her, too, but he also knew that laying her hands on him would take more strength than she currently possessed. “Murder me then, darling, because I’m not going to let you do this.” He told, and tossed the mixture out the window. 

“Get out,” she growled. “Get out, I hate you. I never want to see you again.” Fallon yelled at him through sobs. He knew she didn’t mean it, but he still flinched as the words spewed out of her mouth. Astarion took her in his arms and held her. She raged against him for a moment, but her anger slowly dissolved and eventually they were sitting on the kitchen floor while Fallon simply sobbed. 

After that, Astarion knew what he had to do. He got a hold of Karlach through the sending stones they all possessed now and beckoned her to the suite. Much like Astarion, Karlach could only travel by disguise in the dead of night these days, and therefore she was the only one of Astarion’s companions who would truly be able to keep watch over Fallon twenty-four seven until she got through the worst of it. 

It was that moment that brought him to The Sign of the Dreaming Dragon, an inn in Iriaebor, three months later. Not being able to travel during the day anymore made things infinitely more complicated, so traveling the seven hundred or so miles along The Chionthar to get here took far longer than Astarion would have preferred. Coupled with the fact that he was tracking someone, it meant he spent a couple of days in the towns he passed through along the way; speaking to people in seedy taverns, listening in on conversations to hear if an overly talkative wizard has passed through. 

The pieces of The Crown of Karsus had fallen into pieces in The Chionthar when they defeated The Netherbrain, and if he was going to find Gale of Waterdeep, traveling along the river would be the fastest way to find him. Rivers have currents, and Astarion was not only certain that all of the pieces of The Crown hadn’t conveniently fallen to the same place, but that the river sent them along their way and out of Baldur’s Gate. All Astarion could surmise from his travels was that he seemed to be four days or so behind Gale at every turn. That said, he had yet to run into the wizard, and now that he’d made it to the last real city along the river, Astarion was beginning to worry that Gale already found the crown and went…wherever it was that he had to go next. Elysium? Gods, Astarion had no fucking idea how to get there, so this truly was the last chance. 

When he stopped into The Sign of the Dreaming Dragon just before sunrise to claim a room and have a drink, the last person he expected to find immediately was Gale, sitting in a corner booth with a glass of wine and a book. Astarion smirked as he sidled up to Gale’s table and slid into the seat across from Gale. 

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, and Gale nearly jumps a foot into the air, having been so engrossed in his book he didn’t even realize someone sat down at his table. It takes a moment for Gale to realize that the vampire is truly sitting across from him, and he just stares at Astarion in stunned silence. 

“So this is how you render the great Gale of Waterdeep speechless,” Astarion muses, reaching for the half empty bottle of wine on the table and taking a swig directly from it. 

“Astarion, please, this is a decent establishment.” Gale scolds. 

“Ah, he speaks! How have you been, friend? Are you god yet? Did you get everything you ever wanted?” He asks Gale, tone dripping with sarcasm and displeasure.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” 

“I’m fine, by the way, things have been just lovely since we saw each other last. I can’t walk in the sun anymore, we were all given Lady and Lordship titles by Ulder Ravengaurd after saving the world. It happened just days after you left, such a shame you missed the ceremony–”

“Astarion, please, my patience is very thin as of late. What do you want?” Gale sighs, exasperated by his visitor already and it’s only been thirty seconds. 

“Fallon sends her regards, by the way– well, assuming she’s still alive. I’ve not heard otherwise yet, so I assume she’s still breathing.” Astarion sneers. 

At the mention of Fallon, Gale freezes, and he slowly sets down his book as fear begins to bloom on his face. “What’s happened to Fallon?” 

“Oh nothing, darling, she only tried to kill herself the last time I saw her–”

“WHAT?” Gale raises his voice and the small number of patrons also up at the present hour whip their heads around in Gale’s direction and the wizard shoots them an apologetic look and a wave. “What happened?” Gale asks, his voice lowered.

The bartender realized Gale was no longer alone, and he approaches the table with another glass. Astarion thanks him and takes the bottle again, pouring the remaining contents into his glass. He takes a sip and leans back against the booth. “You happened, darling.”

Gale stares at him in confusion, trying to find the connection between himself and Fallon’s attempt. “How is that possible? I’ve not been in Baldur’s Gate since–”

“ Exactly , Gale. You left , and she’s been a gods-damned mess ever since,” Astarion snaps. “Did you really think that you could just go off to find your precious crown without so much as a goodbye and she’d just be okay with it?”

“I did say goodbye–”

“You call that little speech you gave her a goodbye? For someone so intelligent you are really, really stupid,” Astarion laughs coldly. “After everything she’s been through, after everyone she’s lost, and how much she loves you…I simply cannot believe you thought that was a sufficient enough goodbye. Hells, I can’t believe you left in the first place. None of us could.”

Gale stares at Astarion angrily. “Did you come all the way here just to yell at me for the choice I made, or was there another purpose?”

Astarion presses his lips together in a thin line. “You need to come home, Gale.” he demanded. “The woman you claimed to love more than your precious Mystra is an absolute disaster without you, and the fact that I found you tells me you haven’t succeeded yet. Go home to Fallon. She needs you.” 

Silence falls between them and Astarion’s eyes remain on Gale’s face.

“I have succeeded.” 

Astarion blinks once. Twice. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’ve succeeded. I found the final piece today. You actually caught me on my final night here. I leave for Elysium tomorrow afternoon.” 

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to stare in disbelief. “You– I just told you that the woman you love is miserable without you and your response…is not to tell me how much you miss her and still love her…but to correct my assumption that you’ve failed? Power really does change people.” Astarion scoffs.

“Of course I love her, and I miss her terribly, I shouldn’t have to defend that to you.” Gale replies haughtily.

“Except you do, Gale, because she’s a fucking shell of a person right now, it’s entirely your fault, and you’re more concerned about that I called you a failure!”

Gale scowls, and Astarion shoots him a satisfied look. Astarion hit a nerve. Good. “I can’t, Astarion. Come home that is. Not yet. Once I go to Elysium and ascend to godhood, I’ll be able to fix everything.” 

“You’re a disgrace Gale. You’re a disgrace and deluded if you really think becoming a God is going to fix this. This was a waste of my time.” Astarion downs the rest of his wine and stands. 

“Always a pleasure, Astarion; and to think the first thing I was going to do upon my return after reuniting with Fallon was going to be to tell you I’ve discovered a way for you to walk in the sun.”

Astarion freezes. He turns around slowly. “What?” 

A smug smile appears on Gale’s face. “I met a vampire during my search for the pieces of the crown. He was walking in the sun, in the middle of the day.”

Hook, line and sinker. Gale has Astarion’s attention again and the vampire sits back down. “How?”

“He wouldn’t go into details, but the vampire was from Asha. In Velrea. He belonged to a coven with the ability to walk in the sun.” It couldn’t be possible. Surely Gale was playing with him as some sort of payback for berating Gale on Fallon’s behalf.

“It’s true, Astarion. You may think me to be the villain right now, but I would not lie to you about this. Tara even found me a book that proves the vampire was telling the truth,” Gale slides the book he’d been reading across the table to Astarion. “It’s all in there. Take the book if you want.” Gale smugs. 

Astarion feels fury flowing in his veins as he snatches the book off the table. He hates the fact that it’s Gale of all people that just happened upon this information as easily as breathing. “This changes nothing, you know,” he glares. “Go home, Gale. Forget the crown, forget Elysium, and go the fuck home.”

With that, Astarion retreats to the bar to obtain a room for the day so he can begin his own trek home once dusk falls. 

Despite the revelry happening around them, no one in their current group look happy. They all just stare at Gale. For the most part, he looks the same. The biggest difference is there is an incandescent glow surrounding him now, one he only could have gained by becoming a god. Fallon can’t stand the way her heart reacts when she looks at Gale. He’s still as handsome as she remembered, and there’s a part of her that wants to run to him and embrace him in the way she had Karlach. The other part of her wants Halsin to turn into a bear and rip him to shreds so she never has to see him again.

Astarion takes her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and he gives her hand a squeeze. Gale’s eyes drop to their linked hands, his nostrils flaring. Wyll is the first to speak, with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Need I remind you all that we are at a ball, hosted by my father, and I would very much like for us all to not end up on Page Six of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette tomorrow.” He walks over to Gale and gives the man a strong handshake and claps him on the shoulder. “I can’t say I’m pleased to see you, mate, but for the sake of my father I will most certainly pretend for the next several hours.” 

One by one, the rest of Fallon’s companions do the same. They each take turns greeting Gale like they’re happy to see him, even Lae’zel puts on the closest thing to a smile she can muster. Astarion remains at Fallon’s side until they’re the only ones who haven’t acknowledged Gale in the way the public would expect. Fallon reluctantly lets go of Astarion’s hand and the vampire gives her a look of concern. She merely nods her head by way of saying “I’m fine,” and she walks over to Gale.

“Fallon, dearest, how I’ve missed you.” Gale’s voice is soft, and Fallon’s heart aches at the look in his eyes. It’s the same adoring look he’s always given her, and Fallon hates the way it makes her feel. She wraps her arms around Gale’s neck, and unlike her friends, the hug she gives him is genuine, because Gods, even if she hates admitting it, she has missed him. Gale hugs her back tightly. For a moment, she and Gale are the only two people in the room as she breathes in his familiar scent and her mind wanders back to happier days. They stay like that for perhaps a beat too long and someone clears their throat behind her. 

When Fallon turns around, she almost misses the hatred in Astarion’s eyes before he changes his expression so he too can greet Gale as the rest of them have. “So, um, where’ve you been, Gale?” Karlach asks awkwardly. It’s a good question, one Fallon is certain they’d all like the answer to, no one more than she. Gale smiles brightly at them like nothing is wrong. Whether it’s because he believes that or he’s simply doing his part to keep up appearances at Wyll’s request, Fallon cannot tell. 

“That, my dear friend, is a story for another occasion, as it is quite the tale,” he claps his hands together. Just then, Duke Ravenguard and his wife take to the small platform where an orchestra is set up to welcome everyone and wish them a happy Winter Solstice. The band begins to play a lively tune, and the duke takes his bride by the hand and leads her to the dance floor to begin the celebrations. Slowly, others trickle in to join them, until some of the only people in the room on the dance floor are the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. 

“Well, I need a drink.” Shadowheart declares, and Lae’zel nods. Halsin and Wyll follow along behind them and Karlach looks to Fallon. “You okay, soldier?” She asks and Fallon nods. “I’m fine, go.” She promises. The tension among the three left is palpable, and Fallon wishes she could turn into a small animal and disappear. 

“You know, I could use a drink as well. Care to join me?” Astarion asks her, extending his hand to her.

“Actually, I was hoping I could perhaps have the honor of your first dance this evening,” Gale interjects. “So we could perhaps have a moment to talk.” Fallon looks back and forth between the two men, her mind reeling as her heart splits in two directions. She knows what she should do. What she wants to do is another matter entirely, and what she wants to do is hear whatever it is Gale has to say so she can be done with it. Fallon tentatively takes Gale’s hand. “Of course, Gale, it would be my pleasure.” 

Gale beams at her and starts to lead her to the dance floor. Fallon looks over her shoulder at Astarion, and the look on his face…well it’s absolutely the most heartbreaking thing she’s ever seen, and she sends him an apologetic look, hoping she can convey how sorry she is and her intentions by accepting Gale’s invitation. Based on the way his face contorts when they make eye contact before he storms off to join their friends at the bar, the message was not received.

The next song begins and Gale turns to face Fallon and takes her waist. They begin to move to the music, an easy waltz, and Fallon can’t tear her eyes off the man in front of her. “I knew the moment I saw you again it would take my breath away, but the way you look this evening…I don’t think there are words for how beautiful you are.” Gale compliments her, and Fallon’s heart beats faster in her chest. She smiles at Gale.

“You said you wanted to talk?” She reminds him as they take another spin around the room. 

“Yes, yes of course. Forgive me, I merely wanted a moment to drink you in after only seeing your face in my dreams for so long,” he squeezes her waist. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I realize my absence couldn’t have been easy for you, and I shouldn’t have left the way that I did. You mean a great deal more to me than the way I treated you, and I should have asked you to come with me.” 

The words coming out of her former lover’s mouth are ones that Fallon has been waiting to hear since the day he left, and despite all the healing she’s done since, all of the moving on, hearing she didn’t deserve that treatment from the person who caused her pain himself lifted a weight off of her chest. 

“Why did you do it, Gale?” She asks quietly. “Why did you leave? What did I do so wrong that you chose the crown and power over me?” 

A hurt (or was it guilty?) look forms on Gale’s face. “Sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. Leaving to seek the crown without you at my side will always be the greatest mistake of what will now be a very long life. I never loved the crown or the power more than you. I wished to seek it out to be worthy of you, to be worthy of your love. I just went about it in a terrible way, and I see my mistake now.” 

They do another spin, and Fallon’s eyes soften. It wasn’t always the nightmares that woke her up in the night. Sometimes it was moments like this, where she finally heard the words she’s been waiting to hear for a year, and Fallon can feel her resolve to hate this man dissipating with every honeyed word out of his mouth, even if she hasn’t forgotten the way he destroyed her. She would never be able to forget that. “I know I’ve caused you a great deal of misery, and I don’t expect this to be resolved in one evening. Far from it, because there is so much more I need to tell you,” 

The next song begins, and they keep dancing. “I know I don’t deserve an iota of your forgiveness, but there were forces at work I wasn’t prepared for, that I never could have predicted. Can we please go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

As if on cue, Astarion appears by their sides, ready to cut in. “You may have gotten her first dance, wizard, but I intend to have her second.” He says cooly, the look in his eyes daring Gale to deny him. Gale, thankfully, does the gentlemanly thing to do and relinquishes Fallon from their dance, stepping back. “Enjoy, my friend. I’ll be at the bar should anyone need me.” Gale bows slightly to them both and starts to walk away, but suddenly, he stops. “Oh! Astarion, before I forget– I found another book about Velrea, if you’d like to have it. Assuming of course that you’ve not been to Asha already and found the solution to your problem.” 

Astarion goes rigid, freezing in place on the dance floor, and Fallon looks back and forth between the two halves of her heart in confusion. “Astarion, what is he talking about? How does he know about Asha?”

A smug grin appears on Gale’s face. “Oh, has your new beau not told you how he learned about what waits for him in Velrea?”

“Gale,” Astarion growls through gritted teeth. “If you say one more fucking word I will rip out your throat.”

The rest of their companions must have sensed trouble from across the room, as it is not long before the other five appear and Wyll and Halsin are guiding Gale and Astarion off of the dance floor with Fallon in tow. “Gale, what are you talking about?” Fallon frowns deeper once they are out of the way of people still trying to dance. 

“I mean it, Gale, shut the fuck up.” Astarion warns again.

The grin on Gale’s face is no longer smug. It’s downright wicked , and he looks directly in Astarion’s eyes when he speaks to Fallon. “Astarion sought me out several months back. He knows about Velrea because I told him.” 

Before anyone has a chance to prevent it from happening, Astarion lunges at Gale. He tackles the wizard to the ground with ease and punches him squarely in the jaw. 

Halsin heaves a heavy sigh and looks at Wyll. “I’ll take my twenty gold back now, please.”

Chapter List

[softhenrycavill]

Marc Jobst ( Director, The Witcher) on Henry Cavill:

"Well, look, Henry has done three series, these are demanding shows to make, you know, they are huge. Henry does every single beat of his stunts, he won't even allow a hand, if you're doing a close up of a hand grabbing a sword, it has to be his hand. So, normally, what you do is you bring in a double, Henry will go off and shoot some other scene in which he's in somewhere else, and you get somebody else into the hand, so that you don't have to bother your number one. Henry won't do that, and as a result of that, the results are extraordinary. You're working with an incredible athlete, first and foremost, who works out hours before, and hours after, you've been shooting for 12 hours, and who cares deeply about the work that he does. I came in on the first season, and we were shooting in four different countries. That's taking the whole entourage into different places, learning the stunts, rehearsing the stunts. When we were shooting the swordfight, for example, in the pilot, that's a big one-shot sequence, and they're heavy swords. They're not sharp, but they're heavy, so if you get them wrong, you can seriously damage somebody. We had a camera operator come in to the show, and I think he was rehearsing that fight sequence for four weeks. Just the camera operator working, learning the dance of the fight, so that he can make sure the camera's in the right place in order to land the hit without having to make a cut. And then, of course, moving into the second part of that sword fight, which is Renfri, where we stopped the fight from time to time to get the eye contact between the two of them, to get the sense of whether they're going to kiss or they're going to kill. That's draining on your number one, so after three series, I feel, "Okay, he's brought the show into being, and if he feels like he's done what he can, I trust him." That focus that he has, that desire to get it right, is a gift to work with, because it elevates everybody to say, "Good enough isn't good enough. It's got to be fantastic." We all want to work like that, we all don't wanna make something that's good, we want to make something incredible."

[thissortofsorcery]

💞A different type of rec list ask game, to rep your own fics and other authors you enjoy.💞 Spell out your user name with fic recs. If the letter correlates to one of your fics you rec it (no duplicates use a different fic for repeat letters.) If you get to a letter you don’t have a fic title for you rec one you‘ve liked from someone else. 💖Send this to someone who might need a little love on their own fics or just like spreading the love.💖

Oh, my username is LONG, this is gonna be HARD (haha get it). Keeping it Harringrove to keep it simple (for myself. I have over 3k bookmarks on ao3)

The Green Hawkins Tigers Sweatshirt, by me. 1k, Steve comforts Billy after a run in with Neil.

Hook Possum, by @platypanthewriter. 16k, Steve's a camp counselor and there's a guy Possum Mascot he's very friendly with. This fic had me laughing and giggling from start to finish. It's ART.

I Had to See You, by me. Almost 2k, Billy and Steve broke up three weeks ago, and Steve shows up on Billy's doorstep. One of the fics I'm proudest of.

sad-eyed lady of the lowlands, by @whenyouwishuponastar7. 94k, Steve is a professional babysitter, and is hired to look after Max after she and her older brother move to Hawkins. This was the first fic I read from her and I FELL IN LOVE. Absolute masterpiece. Every time she posts new fics I run to read them so fast.

Shout At The Devil, by @writerwhowritesao3. It's actually a series (155k) that has me by the balls, but the first fic(68k) can be read on its own just fine. It's a retelling of season 2 and it's delicious. It also gives Susan a personality. I would tag just the first fic, but I don't have a J in my username and I HAD to.

Of Cats and Men, by @ihni. 39k, Billy hits a cat with his car, and has to take care of three little kittens. Steve helps. This fics is EVERYTHING to me. Billy and cats get me every time, right in the heart. You will need to hug your pet when you read this, though.

Run for the Shadows, by @shieldofiron. 36k, this fic is DELICIOUS. Friends with benefits to lovers, OBLIVIOUS STEVE. So oblivious. Pure of heart, dumb of ass. I had such a great time reading this fic.

Towel Talks, by @weird-an. 10k, after s3, Steve finds Billy in the community pool sauna. I love this one because An does caring Steve SO WELL. I was like this 🥺 the whole time I was reading it. It's so so good.

On Loving Billy, by lilpeas. I don't know their tumblr. 16k, this is THE break-up and make-up fic. It hurts SO GOOD, their emotions are so beautifully written out. It wrung everything out of me. Love.

for what you have tamed, by skoosiepants. Don't know their tumblr either. 10k. Billy is a cat and a dragon, and he keeps saving Steve's life. I LOVE magical realism, and this fic builds the world incredibly well. It's such a good read.

Sideways, by @robthegoodfellow. 46k. THIS FIC. It spins season 2 on its head so fucking well, oh my god. Rob is such a good writer, I've read this fic more than once and it gets to me every time. Their Billy is incredible.

Only The Freaks Come Out at Night, by shippingmyarmada (idk their tumblr). 67k. GREAT post s2 fic. You know I cry from happiness when I find a post s2 fic. This one is really, really well done.

Rotten Apples, by @weird-an. 14k. It's. a. WITCHER. AU. Do I need to say anything else???????? I love this so much. So much. You have no idea.

Camaro, by @lovebillyhargrove. I'm cheating a little on this one bc I don't know the name of the fic and I wanted to include it, and it's about the Camaro coming alive after season 3 and going on a killing spree to avenge Billy. It gets EVEN BETTER from there. Ana wrote this so well, whenever a chapter dropped on tumblr I lost my shit.

every night fucks every day up, by anonymous. 8k. It's a modern AU, and you know I love my modern AUs. Steve and Billy interact through snapchat. I have a soft spot for snapchat because i first heard about this app reading a Sterek fic in january 2014. This has nothing to do with the fic.

Read to Me?, by lemonlovely (idk tumblr). 12k. Someone leaves books with marked passages at Family Video for Steve. It's SO CUTE. SO CUTE. I love it.

Yeah, It's Me, by @callieb. 29k. Another fic that's between s2 and s3, and this one is SOOOOO GOOD in that their relationship starts as a FWB that's kind of unhealthy and I just about died reading this. Happy ending though. Trust me, it's worth it.

And that's done! It took me over 2 hours to put this together lmao so go give these fics and these writers some love! They deserve it.

[redskull199987]

Heyy hii I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but I'll try my luck. Can you write something about Cahir and the female Witcher reader? Thanks in advance if you write.

If I am being brutally honest, I had a lot of fun writing this. Season three renewed my love for Cahir, so I hope you like this:)))

A Bond

Cahir x female!witcher!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

Warnings:it's all fluffy. I probably got carried away and let my inner Jaskier come out

Summary:You and Cahir had been friends for a long time and as he needs your help, you don 't hesitate to be there for him…

Masterlist

You and Cahir had known each other for a long time. You had met him on your travels through the country, as he was attacked by the beast, you were hunting. He was rude at first, but still thanked you. 

The rest was history.

You started running into him over and over again. To a point where it was inevitable that a friendship would form. With you, Cahir could be himself. He was just a normal Person. No Nilfgaard, no white flame, no war. Nothing of that mattered to you. You were neutral. All you were interested in was his person. And he knew that your interest was genuine. And he let it happen. He let the friendship form and prosper. An unfeigned friendship that connected you. 

And when he was cast out, thrown away by his master, like an old doll he didn't want to play with anymore, Cahir came to you. He found comfort in you. He had been through so much, but for once in his life, he felt safe. At peace. He might even say “Home”.

Of course, he would never tell you that, but it surely was on his mind, everytime, he looked at you. Everytime you returned to his small hut, after finishing a Witcher contract. Bruised and battered, but back with him. And only him. Only Cahir got to see you like this. He took pride in knowing that he was the only person in this world, you would trust this far, besides your brothers maybe.

But you told him that you only saw them once a year, in the winter. You told him stories of Kaer Morhen and how you had grown up there, under Vesemir´s care.

You told him that it was hard for you at first, being the only female Witcher. But it had gotten better, the older you got. The more you learned and saw in this world. You realized that no one really cared, as long as they could use you for their dirty work. 

“How was it?”, Cahir asked, forcing himself to return to the present moment. He had let his thoughts wander, after a pleasant silence rose between you, as he carefully cleaned your wounds.

“It was alright.”, you finally said,”It was a small kikimora. Still young and inexperienced.”

“In fighting?”,Cahir asked, not really knowing a lot about the beasts that your job involved. You had told him some things, but a kikimora was new to him.

 You only smiled at him, before finally answering his question:”No, not in fighting. In killing."

He was quiet for a second, not knowing what to say, upon that statement. But luckily, you just continued recounting what had happened.

“The Monster´s head was worth a lot of coin though. I won't have to leave for at least a month. The money will be enough.”

Cahir smiled at you, glad that he got to spend more time with you.He slowly got up from his place in front of you and sat down beside you on the bed:”Thank you. You don't have to do this. Supporting me in my exile, I mean. But you still do it anyway. And for that I am thanking you.”

“Oh Cahir.”, you smiled, your hand rising to softly caress his face. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into your gentle touch.

“I would proudly ride into death for you, without hesitation.”, you mumbled, as he opened his eyes. You heard how his heart picked up a beat. How his breath stocked for a second, his eyes lingering on your lips, instead of your yellow orbs, which were intently watching him, awaiting his next move. 

You had often thought about your relationship with him. Often let your mind wander to what ifs.

 What if you were more than just close friends? What if you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Never leaving each other. What if…

“I love you.”

At first you barely heard him. His words were so quiet. His voice shaking and his eyes darting everywhere else, but your face.  He wasn't usually this hesitant. He was an outgoing and stern person. Always sure of himself and his capabilities. He used to be a Nilfgaardian officer after all.

“Cahir.”, you mumbled, after a few seconds of burning silence. He finally looked at you. His expression now a bit more confident. His heartbeat had slowed and he finally dared to look you in the eye.

“I love you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. With all my heart.”, you smiled, your eyes almost glowing with excitement.

Cahir didn't need to hear anything more, before he finally leaned in. Your eyes closed and his lips collided with yours. He was gentle and sweet. Passion laid in his actions. And you knew that he meant every little bit, he had told you.

“I love you.”, he said once again, before slowly pushing you back against the bed. You followed along with his movements, until he was hovering above you.

“I love you.”, you also repeated. You were bare in front of him. Not in a physical way, but emotionally. No one had ever known you as Cahir did. Not even your brothers. He knew your heart and soul. Something that you had shown no one before.

And as he slowly lathered kisses over your body, your moans and whines mixing with his groans. As you fully let him in, you knew that he was the only one  you would ever love this way. He became part of you and you part of him. 

 An unfeigned bond, that was never to be broken again.

[viking-raider]

Soothing A Wolf

Summary: Geralt recalls the memories of a troubled time in his life, while visiting a place that always brought him peace.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning: PG - Fluff, Language, Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Soft!Geralt, Character Death, Projecting, Farm Life, Light Domestic Bliss, Anxiety

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I know I've already written this subject, with A Witcher's Soul, but I've become unhappy with it and decided to give it another try. I'm by far happier with this one. Hope you enjoy!

Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

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I do remember bits of my life with her.

You had curled up for a late morning nap, after completing all of your morning chores. The sun filtering through the large window above your headboard. It was warm and pleasant, as you drew to the surface of the waking world. You tried fighting it, wishing for a few more moments of rest, before you had to rise and begin the task of the afternoon chores around your quiet, little farm. However, you were drawn out of your slumber, at the sound of someone's approach into your dooryard.

Sighing, you sat up, taking a moment to fix your hair and smooth your skirts, before standing and going out to find who had decided to visit you. You froze on the porch, watching a huge, black Friesian horse come charging up the well-worn path to your cottage. A muscular, broad shouldered man clad in all black clothing in its saddle, his silvery-white hair tied back in a Rivian style flowing in the breeze created by his haste.

“Geralt!” You called out, as the Witcher dismounted from the horse, Roach. “What are you doing here?” You asked, as he stamped through the drying mud towards you, his pale face pinched and set in an expression more agitated than usual, with a tint of something more you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

The two of you had met nearly fifteen years prior, when you had heard of the White Wolf being in the area and enlisted his help to rid your property of a Graveir that had been threatening it. Not wishing for the alternative, which was moving off the property. You had little to pay him with, offering him the small amount of gold you had. Instead, Geralt had simply asked for a hot meal and permission to camp on your land for the night and use the water from your well, to bathe with after the bloody business of killing the monster.

Naturally, you agreed.

However, after he had killed the creature and washed up to join you for supper, a tension grew between you that popped before the meal ended. Leading to the pair of you being intimate. Ever since, when Geralt was in the area or was taking time off the Trail, he would come to spend time with you. But, you were surprised to see him now, knowing that he should be with Ciri, keeping her safe from Nilfgaard and the Wild Hunt that dogged their heels at every turn.

Instead, he mounted the porch steps towards you, catching you up into his arms.

She smelled like embers.

Geralt buried his face into your neck, taking a deep breath of your skin as he did, drawing in your scent. Your skin had a natural earthiness to it, accompanied by the fresh and calming, citrus-y snap of lemon balm and sweetness of licorice root. He wished many times on many occasions that he could bottle it and take it with him. Always finding comfort, calm and desire in your scent.

Like he had in almost no one else.

“What are you doing here, Geralt? I thought you were with Ciri.” You asked, breaking the silence as you embraced him, pressing yourself against his solid body, feeling the dampness of his clothing, from the sparse rains that had been occurring off and on all week.

“She's safe enough for now.” He mumbled into your neck, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. “But, I needed to see you.” He said, pulling away from you, his hands grasping your shoulders.

“Well, here I am, my wolf.” You cooed at him, resting your hands on his sides and staring up into his face. “I didn't know seeing me was such an urgent thing.” You teased, pushing up on your toes to kiss him, knowing there was something deeper bothering him, but knew better than to press the Witcher for information.

Especially in the matter of his thoughts and emotions. He would tell you in his own time.

“Are you staying or are you riding back off again?” You inquired, looking towards Roach, who was grazing in the damp grass of your dooryard.

“I want to stay the night.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders. “If that's all right with you?” He added, softly.

“Nonsense!” You chuckled, slapping him on the chest. “You know you don't have to ask, Geralt.” You assured him, clicking your tongue. “Are you hungry? I was just about to make lunch for myself. I can add a plate for you.” You said, moving away from him, to go back inside.

She used her magic to create elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.

“I could eat.” Geralt replied, following you inside the cozy home, that always brought him peace. “Especially if it comes with a slice of one of your home-made sweets.” He added, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you move towards the kitchen.

You looked at him over your shoulder, an impish sparkle in your eye. “I don't have any made.” You told him, coyly. “But, if you behave yourself, perhaps there'll be something after dinner.” You teased with a wink, before rounding the corner into the kitchen.

Going into the pantry, you grabbed a large, earthenware jug, carrying it out and set it on your counter, removing the cork. Taking a whiff of the contents that were inside, your nose was greeted by the sweet aroma of honey and blood-orange mead. You had brewed it yourself. You took down a cup and filled it, taking a wee nip for yourself, before taking it out to Geralt, who had made himself at home. He'd taken his shoes off, but stood before the fire, tossing a log into it.

“You don't need to do that, Geralt.” You frowned, holding the cup out to him. “I could have done it.”

“I know.” He answered, watching the strong flames catch the edges of the wood, before he took the cup from you, taking a deep gulp. “You really should sell your own spirits.” He commented, licking his lips and looking into golden liquid.

“Ha.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “I have enough to do around the farm, Witcher.” You quipped, going back into the kitchen.

Geralt chuckled at you, taking a seat before the fire, flexing his sore toes in the glowing warmth with a soft and tired sigh, while sipping his mead. He listened to you bump about in the kitchen. The opening and closing of the pantry, the thud of cabinet doors shutting, after you searched through their contents. He finished off his mead and set it on the table beside him, before standing and going to the threshold of the kitchen, knowing better than to go into your kitchen, while you were active in it.

You'd chased the Witcher out more than once, with either the rolling pin or a dish towel.

I would have done anything to make her smile.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, cocking his head around the corner to look at you, seeing you wielding a large knife to cut into a small wheel of cheese. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you to sit your butt down.” You answered, turning to look back at him. “You rode, god knows how far, to here. So, you need to relax.” You told him, adamantly.

And yet, the day she left me, she was sick. She needed water, so I went to get her some.

“But, I want to help.” Geralt insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

You sighed softly, giving him a gentle smile. “All right, Geralt.” You conceded, nodding. “My other big brute needs to be fed. So, why don't you go out and do that for me, while I finish getting our lunch done.”

“I can do that.” He nodded, daring to step into the kitchen to kiss you on the cheek, chuckling as you popped him on the bum on his way out.

“That, man.” You giggled, smiling to yourself as you turned back to your task.

Geralt tugged his boots back on and went out, heading towards the small fenced off area to the right of your property, where the few farm animals you had lived. He found the bucket beside one of the fence posts and snagged it up by the rope handle, heading towards the grain storage that was around the other side, filling the bucket.

“Hey, Martigan.” He called out to the brown and white dairy cow, standing in the center of the pen, nibbling on a bale of hay with an expression of no care on his face, but twitched his ears to the sound of Geralt's voice. “And you.” Geralt huffed at the animal you had dubbed your other brute, a solid white goat with horns that nearly curved in on themselves, they were so long. “I see you, Goat-Bert.”

The Witcher called to the Goat, who stood clear on the other side of the pen, as he opened the latch to the gate. But that meant nothing, and Geralt knew it. He had dealt with this Goat-Devil before on your behalf. He had even considered taking one of his potions to increase his odds in dodging that swift, easy to anger, creature. Not even Little Bleater was a match for this fiend. So, keeping one golden eye on the Goat, Geralt moved towards the feeding trough and dumped the bucket of grain into it. It wasn't a split second later that Martigan let out a loud, agitated moo and Goat-Bert bleated with his evil intent, setting his head downward as he charged across the muddy pen towards Geralt's shins.

“Fuck!” Geralt barked under his breath, tossing the bucket over the fence and himself with it. “You damned Goat!” He cursed at him, fuming at Goat-Bert rammed his head into the trough, at full steam. But it was your howls of laughter from the porch that drew Geralt out of his choice words for the farm animal. “You find that funny?” He asked, picking up the bucket and moving towards you, as you grinned and giggled.

“I find it hilarious!” You wheezed, wiping tears from your face. “Watching a Witcher jump a fence to get away from a little goat!”

“Now, you know damn well, what mischief that demon can cause.” Geralt told you, but smirked at your amusement. “I don't need Lambert or Eskel busting my ribs, because I got a broken leg because of a wee goat.”

“Well, no harm done.” You said, catching your breath. “And lunch is ready and waiting for us on the table.” You told him, turning to go back inside.

Following you, Geralt was greeted by a laid out table, containing a round and fluffy loaf of bread with a blossom score on the top of its beautiful, caramel-brown crust. Beside the loaf, was a glass decanter of the mead you'd served him earlier, half a roasted and glazed ham hock, that glistened in the light of the fireplace, and a plate of the cheese slices you'd cut. There were other tidbits, to make lunch more pleasant and filling, as well.

“It looks delicious.” He commented, pulling a chair out and sat down.

You looked at him with soft surprise, cocking a brow as you sat beside him. “Ciri and Jaskier must really be leaning hard on your lessons.” You chuckled, picking up a knife and cut a slice out of the bread, laying it on Geralt's plate, before cutting another and putting it on your own. “Would you like a second piece?” You asked him, knife hovering above the loaf.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth, before reaching for the decanter, pouring you both a tankard. “I appreciate this.” He said, watching you cut thick slices of juicy ham from the hock and set them on the edge of his plate, allowing him to build his own sandwich.

“Of course.” You answered, brow creasing as you placed the ham and cheese on your bread, closing it with the second piece, using your knife to cut it in half. “I can't let you starve, now can I? Silly Witcher.” You chuckled, taking a bite.

Geralt hummed, putting together his own meal and allowing the table to fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. Nothing, but the pop and crackle of the fire with the occasional moo or baa of the farm animals outside filled the space. Neither of you moved, once you had your fill, but you watched Geralt, smirking as you saw his lids struggle to stay open and his chin from falling against his chest. You stood, causing Geralt to start and look up at you with wide molten-gold orbs, but you just offered him a sweet smile, as you started to clear away the table, putting things in the pantry, sink or scrap barrel.

Once you were finished, you moved to your bedroom, fluffing your pillows, fixing and folding back the blankets, then pulled shut the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Satisfied, you returned to Geralt, smirking as you found he had lost the battle with his sleepiness. His breathing was slow, coming out in gentle huffs, arms crossed and chin resting on his chest. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, the muscles under the loose black material of his tunic were slack, making the various scars pull taut. Biting your lip, you moved around him and knelt, taking one of his booted feet in your hands, eyes still trained on his face. In case you startled him, knowing it could cause him to burst into defending himself, when startled awake.

But Geralt didn't stir, as you carefully pulled his muddy boots off, setting them in front of the fireplace. You stood, moving around him to open the knot of the string that held his silvery-white hair tied back out of his face.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his ear, resting your hands lightly on his shoulders. “Geralt.” You said, a little bit louder.

“Hm?” He hummed back, taking a deep breath and shaking his head, causing his loose hair to fall forward.

“Why don't you come lay down?” You suggested, patting his shoulders and kissing the back of his head. “You'll be so much more comfortable in bed.” You persuaded him, gently.

Geralt sighed, licking his lips and stretching his legs for a moment, before standing up and allowing you to guide him to your bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into a chair in the corner and dropped into the bed, looking up at you, as you stood before him.

“Lay with me.” He cooed, resting his hands on your hips.

“I have chores to do, Wolf.” You smirked at him, cupping his neck and caressing his stubbly jawline with your thumbs.

“They can wait until tomorrow.” Geralt said, pulling you between his legs. “I'll do them for you.” He smiled, making you sit in his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Before, I go.” He promised, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“Very well.” You conceded, breaking the kiss and rubbing noses with him.

“Good.” He rasped, laying down and pulling you against his chest.

And when I came back... she was gone.

Geralt woke up sometime later, feeling refreshed. He hadn't slept well or very long in the weeks since he and Ciri left Kaer Morhen, with the Wild Hunt and Nilfgaard after them, worried that every moment his eyes were shut, was a moment they'd come and take Cirilla from him. He reached out for you, wanting to feel you against him, but you weren't in bed any longer.

I called for her.

He got out of bed, calling your name, as he searched the house for you. The fireplace was still roaring, telling him you hadn't been gone long. But where could you be, that you wouldn't hear him calling. He yanked the front door open and stormed into the yard, uncaring that he had no boots on, yelling your name even louder, as he turned in circles. His only answer was the breeze through the trees, Goat-Bert, Martigan and Roach.

Not a peep or appearance from you.

But she was gone.

Geralt felt his chest grow tight and his slow heart skip a beat, then another. The dooryard started to spin and blur, a rock-like lump formed in his throat. He flexed his hands and shook his head, trying to get a handle on himself. He wasn't supposed to act like this. He wasn't supposed to show his emotions, let alone allow them to take control over him.

“Geralt!” You frowned, coming out of the treeline, a basket resting on your hip as you found him standing barefoot in the muddy dooryard. “What's going on?” You asked, setting the basket down and hurrying over to him, as you watched tears drip from his sharp jaw. “What's happened? Are you hurt?” You asked, looking him over, searching for a wound you felt you had failed to notice before.

“Where is it? Show me!”

“I'm not--” He rasped, swallowing at the lump and shaking his head. “You were gone.” He said, pressing his lips together and pushing his jaw forward, trying to bring up his walls against the raw feelings he was being crushed under. “I woke up and you were gone. I called for you.” He said, failing miserably. “But you didn't answer. I thought--” He choked, looking away from you.

You blinked up at him, confused and afraid, never seeing this side of Geralt before. “You thought what?”

He chewed on his lip, his face hardening as he slowly started to gain control of himself again. “I thought you left me.” He admitted, deciding not to shut you out.

“Left you?” You echoed softly, blinking up at him with surprise. “No, Geralt. I'd never leave you. I didn't leave you.” You told him, taking his hand in both of yours. “I just woke up from our nap before you did, and you seemed so tired that I didn't have the heart to wake you. So, I went out to pick some blueberries.” You explained to him, half turning back to where you'd set your basket, full of plump, indigo orbs. “I plan on using them to bake you a pie.” You said quietly, looking back up at him.

Neither of you said anything for a long while, before Geralt looked down at you, a sad look in his eyes.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You assured him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Nodding, Geralt pressed his lips to your forehead and sighed, looking down at his muddy feet. “I'll rinse my feet off.” He said, moving away from you and towards the well.

Watching him go and drop the bucket into the well, you knew the Witcher didn't have the easiest of lives, that he had a lot of trauma in it. But, he would tell you what was bothering him, when he was ready. It seemed too raw, at the moment. So, you went back for your blueberries and carried them inside to the sink, so you could rinse them off, prepping them for the pie.

Deciding to be there for Geralt, when he was ready.

[blaiddllodi]

TOA Anniversary Munday

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

(Previous answers here on Raven's blog. Thanks for putting this together Neffi!)

Name: tches!

Pronouns: she/they

Birthday (no year): 22 Dec

Where are you from? What is your time zone? From Germany, but I live in Colorado

How long is your roleplay experience? A few years in 2005, and now my tenure here

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? Uhhhhh probably Yahoo chatrooms if I'm honest, but I spent most of my time in Livejournal communities

How were you introduced to TOA? I found it scrolling the Raven tag and I saw mirae's drop. Didn't join at this time. Then Elf advertised in a mutual server and I was like Hm. Maybe I will.

Do you have any pets? The server knows my beloved Coriander my baby my light my heart. I also live with two GSDs, Ursa and Solo.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) I love you winter, I love you snow, I love you December, I love you.

What is your IRL occupation? Handwaves IT. I'm helpdesk at my current place, but I've begun learning network infrastructure stuff recently.

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I like languages and history, esp Meiji Japan and Mughal India. I used to be a lot more active, and I still generally enjoy yoga and rock climbing, but I've accrued some injuries which prevent me from doing this as much as I'd like. Sadge.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Final Fantasy, Pokemon, Ace Attorney, Assassin's Creed, Dragon Age, Bloodborne, Witcher, Kingdom Hearts.

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Ice or Dragon I think; and Gyarados my beloved my friend my partner (although Delibird is a very close second I love that little dude)

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! (Optional bonus challenge: if you filled this out last year, try not to repeat what you said back then!) One time a drunk driver scraped my ex-husband's car pulling out of the bar and while he was so flabbergasted that it had happened, me and a friend who had just gotten out of the Navy broke into a sprint to chase the girl down for three blocks before she left the neighborhood.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? My father and I were in the PX and I grabbed Blazing because it had just come to the States and it looked interesting.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? All but Archanea and Tellius. I started Path of Radiance, and put it down at chapter 15 when I got busy. I'll pick it back up again I promise :sob:

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: First is Blazing and favorite is...probably Blazing still. Elibe is just home to me. I really really like Three Houses and Shadows of Valentia though.

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Oh gosh. Raven number one forever, and Dima and Berkut are up there. I'll list five who aren't my roster, in no particular order: Hubert, Hector, Lyon, Priscilla, Lachesis.

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Wil. Wil was my first favorite, followed by Matthew. I genuinely loved them so so much my first playthrough I gave them everything.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 Jeralt can still get it.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays?- Awakening: Another accidental Chrom victim - probably Lonk or Freddie Fates: I genuinely don't remember if it was Kaze or Jakob - Probably still Kaze Three Houses: Claude - Hubert is my favorite S support he's really good Engage: I literally hard swerved from Diamant the moment Pandreo came on screen I don't think anyone's taking his crown.

Favorite Fire Emblem class? I just really like the Merc-Hero line 🙈But I also love wyverns

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Infantry sword. I hate to say I'd be a Navarre archetype but I honestly probably would be. Middling strength and con but workable with attention, decent speed, absolutely ridiculous crit stat. Surprisingly high resistance. I'd be a good candidate for Dancer or Mortal Savant.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Unaffiliated civilian, but can be swayed to join a cause after some effort. I tend to keep myself a bit at arms length, and it can be difficult sometimes to get my genuine loyalty.

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Sword, Bow Bane: Flying Budding Talent: Heavy Armor

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? No lie, probably Brodia. My family is full of soldiers on all sides

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) Depends on the flow of the sentence. Sometimes toe-ah, sometimes T-O-A

Current TOA muses: Raven, Dimitri, Berkut

Past TOA muses? Sigurd, Igrene, Saber, Petra, Beowolf, Lyn

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Raven my heart my forever. If he hasn't been pried from my grasp for the last twenty years, I can't imagine what might.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? I like it when grief and love carve someone into a weapon. I love rage and deep, boundless sorrow. And I occasionally like when they get a little slutty, I'm not a monster.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? 🤔Hard to say. I like to think my range is pretty good. I've been writing for long enough that I don't really wish - I just do it. I think anyone could write anyone if they genuinely put their heart into it.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? I like when the narrator is a little unreliable. I like when there's so much emotion that everything becomes just a little bit fuzzy an indistinct, like they're suddenly underwater and haven't realized they're drowning. I like when the narrative is circular and I can call back five posts, or when I can bookend things - dramatic irony my beloved. I love miscommunication, especially when one person takes something and runs with it (RIP Sigurd you were the king of this and your never-shuts-up).

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? I've been in an AU mood lately. I want more AUs - coffeeshop AU, horror movie tropes AU, cross-fiction AU. There was an idea that I had that I'd like to build up a bit more that I may drop a call for 🙊

Favorite TOA-related memories? All of Raven's threads with elysia's Priscilla and kanoesa's Lucius 🤲I hold them like this. And unrelated to my muses I to this day can't get over And Now All Of TOA Knows You Tried To Kill Ryoma.

Present or past tense? Past. I use present tense pretty sparingly, and almost exclusively for one-off asks. Feels weird though.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? No preference. I use normal size out of laziness. The most formatting you'll get from me is italics for emphasis or for thought patterns.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 One day I will app Sommie and everyone will have a heart attack. You think I'm joking? You think this is a game?

[yellowspiralbound]

The Witcher & why fanon and canon are not as separate as they are in other medias

Okay so I just answered and reblogged this poll about what parts of the Witcher you interact with (fanon vs canon) and it made me realize that a lot of fans might not be aware of the fact that fanon and canon are not neatly seperated when it comes to the Witcher. It’s kind of a clusterfuck actually. So allow me to attempt to explain it. Before the post, let me make sure everyone understands that I am referencing the translations of the books. I have not read them in the original Polish. If anyone has and some of what I say is inaccurate, please let me know. Extremely long post ahead. 

First, we have to accept the fact that we are working with not one but three different canons. The books are, of course, the original canon. It is what everything else stems from. The games are often considered a follow up but are not necessarily canon to the books and were not intended to be. The original Witcher game was never intended to be a sequel to the books - that’s why Yennefer and Ciri are basically never mentioned. However, as the second and third game developed, the creators shifted gears and focused on creating a cohesive story set after the events of the books, Now, many if not most fans forget this. Then there is the show canon, which draws from the books but is largely it’s own thing. 

So what is the “real” canon? For some, the answer is anything written by Sapkowski...but there are stories set on the Continent and written by Sapkowski that are, by and large, considered superfluous to canon such as the Something Ends, Something Begins short story which Sapkowski wrote as a wedding gift for some friends. Beyond that, there is debate as to whether Sapkowski’s final depiction of Geralt is well...Geralt. While many book fans tend to believe that the Geralt met by Nimue at the end of Season if Storms is an illusion, I have spoken with many who believe it to be the real Geralt. So which is it? Sapkowski certainly hasn’t said as far as I am aware, so good luck figuring it out. And if Sapkowski’s work is the be all end all of canon...what are the games? 

Are they a form of fanon that Sapkowski has given his blessing to? Nope. Sapkoski hates video games. Like there are decisions he made in Season of Storms (published after the first two Witcher games) that I’m fairly certain he made specifically to fuck with the game producers (like Dandelion being a blonde for example). Everything I’ve ever learned about the man suggests he would do this. And yet Season of Storms also hands the game producers their golden goose: a Sapkowski-written ending where Geralt doesn’t die, where he continues to travel and hunt monsters. Which is exactly what Geralt did in the games. And after that Sapkowksi actually met with some of the producers for the third game, something I don’t believe he did for the first two (feel free to correct me if he did). So did Sapkowski take inspiration from the games for this ending? It’s possible. I personally don’t think it likely but we know it’s possible because of a certain character in Season of Storms: Brehen. 

Brehen, for those of you who may not remember/know, is a Cat witcher that Geralt meets at the very end of Season of Storms. Now this is important, Geralt’s meeting with Brehen is the first time ever that Sapkowski insinuates there are different schools of Witchers. And you might be thinking “What about the medallions of different animals that Bonhart had?” It isn’t ever really implied they’re from different schools. Coen, who has a griffon, is shown with the wolves all the same during Blood of Elves. Of course, the game producers had already decided to take the different medallions as representations of schools but It is only when Brehen begins to use the word “us” that there is a confirmed implication of schools by Sapkowski. Is this proof that Sapkowski used the games as inspiration for Season of Storms? Not at all. What it is, is solid evidence that both the game producers and Sapkowski had been influenced by a third party: the pre-CDPR comic run. 

Now, this is where things get interesting. The pre-CDPR comic run is not that well known outside of Poland (and perhaps even in Poland, I am not sure). I discovered their existence on the Witcher subreddit and promptly read the fan translations of them that you can find online. Only one of the six comics released between 1993 and 1995 is an original story. This comic, Zdrada or Betrayal, is where the story of the Cat and Wolf tournament often is from. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go read basically any fanfiction with Aiden in it. It will more than likely be brought up. This comic is the first instance of a school system like the one we have now. Now, this comic was based on an idea by Sapkowski. He gave the author of the comic run, Maciej Parowski, a basic idea and Parowski expanded upon it. To what extent Parowski expanded the idea isn’t really known. The schools could be entirely his own invention, but it is more likely that Sapkowski suggested them. It is extremely likely, however, that Parowski’s characterization of the Cats as a school influenced Sapkowski - especially considering the 18 year gap between the publication of Zdrada and the publication of Season of Storms. So when did Parowski’s fanon interpretation of Sapkowski’s outline become canon? Did it become canon? I personally consider it canon but not everyone does. 

Essentially what it boils down to is that there is a high chance that Parowski’s fanon directly influenced both Season of Storms and the Witcher games. And yes you can argue that Parowski’s work isn’t fanon because it was based on an idea by Sapkowksi but...that’s what all fanworks are - stories based on the original ideas of the author. The same can be argued about the show. Large parts of the show are Lauren Hissrich’s fanon interpretation of Sapkowski’s work yet it is a canon in its own right. 

In conclusion, Sapkowski never avoided fanwork like say, Neil Gaiman. In fact, he actively encouraged it in the case of Parowski and Hissrich. Whether or not he ever encouraged the game producers in any capacity is...highly debatable. There’s some serious tension there guys. I personally think that he did with his choice in how to end Season of Storms but that’s just me. From what I know of Sapkowski, the man is, quite frankly, far too proud to ever admit to being wrong about video games and the producers so draw your own conclusions on that one. 

But yeah, fanon has had a serious influence on canon in the case of the Witcher and there are so many different canons that separating the two entirely is more or less impossible. And I haven’t even talked about the pre-CDPR TTRPG, the CDPR TTRPG, the mobile gwent game, or the CDPR comic run, all of which fall into the liminal space of “not fanon but not canon either.” 

Please feel free to correct me if any of this is wrong or if you have read the original Polish copies of the books and some stuff I’ve talked about is translation error. Also if anyone has a translation of the pre-CDPR TTRPG stuff please contact me. I would do unreasonable things for a translation of them and would be eternally in your debt.