#witcher flash fic challenge

[inexplicifics]

Eskel gets hired to investigate a possibly haunted cottage. It is, in fact, haunted, but not in quite the way he expects.

I wrote flash fic!

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)

Characters: Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Kiyan (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Rare Pairings, Pining, Winter, Based on Scavenger Hunt: Cat School Gear quest, Reunions, Sensuality, Gay Sex, Intimacy, Not Beta Read

Series: Part 5 of Unbury The Gays

Summary: In the biting cold of winter, Prince Adrien's heart aches for Kiyan, a witcher who embodies both danger and desire. As snow seals the roads and hope fades, a familiar silhouette appears on the horizon. Will Adrien’s love be enough to guide Kiyan home, or will the ghosts of their pasts threaten to tear them apart once more?

[inexplicifics]

I wrote flash fic! I’m pretty sure I was not Sneaky! Go find out!

TWFF #74 Fics Revealed

Our MoC for this round was @sternenstaub28 and the prompt was:

You can read all the fics here!

And guess who wrote what here! You do not have to have written in order to guess, it's open to everyone!

The authors for this round are: @violaceum-vitellina-viridis, Annvian, Cissy_Evans, @windflowerofskellige, @rauchendesgnu, WhoGeek, @gleamingsilence, @xianvar, @feedingmyinsomnia, @pherryt, @mekana47, @inexplicifics, @lambden and zemyr.

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

For the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt an eternal summer

His summer

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Rating: Gen

Tags: feelings realisation

He doesn't want this summer to end.

Not that it had been any different from previous summers. It's still the two of them camping under the stars, the same as ever.

But something in Geralt has shifted. Something he can't explain.

He'd stopped grumbling whenever the bard sang, strumming his lute into the late hours of night.

He didn't complain when Jaskier grabbed a comb and teased out the knots in his hair, carefully braiding it down his back.

He even let the troubadour steal his food, wear his clothes and use his bags to bring along whatever unnecessary items he wanted to.

When Geralt glances up from poking the fire to look at Jaskier, he can feel a smile tugging at his lips.

The bard was screwing his face up, hand scratching his head while he pondered the lyrics for his next song.

The years had been kind to the bard. His features are still soft and full of youth despite the wilderness they frequent.

His eyes shine bright, day or night, but Geralt prefers seeing them right now, across a campfire when they flash at him, piercing and demanding.

"What are you thinking, my dear witcher," Jaskier purrs, setting his quill and notebook down on the log.

Geralt's eyes dart down, flickering back to the fire. That smile on his face threatens to spill out across his lips.

He can feel Jaskier walk around, coming up behind him. His knees drop, perching onto the edge of the stone that Geralt is sitting on. 

Jaskier's arms wrap around his neck.

"What's on your mind, love?" he whispers in his ear.

"Nothing," Geralt lies, like he always does.

Jaskier hums in a low voice, a mockery of all the times Geralt made that noise, clearly making a point.

In response, Geralt leans his head against Jaskier's. He wants to turn his head, to kiss him, but he doesn't move.

He can't lose this. These moments they have. He wants more, Melitele, how badly he wants more, but he's never had more. He won't push it.

"I was thinking, it's such a nice night, maybe we can put out bedrolls together and watch the stars after dinner."

Geralt nods his head, then feels his breath hitch as Jaskier brings his lips up to his cheek and places the softest peck against him.

Then he's gone, leaving him to go back to compose while Geralt cooks the rabbit.

He never wants this to end, and yet, as the summer leaves start to turn, he knows it will have to.

His heart aches in his chest at the thought of a winter without him, his bard, his companion, his shadow.

His love.

The thought crashes through him. That's the word. That's what Jaskier means to him: love.

He stands up, dropping his stick, and walks over to Jaskier.

The dirt beneath his feet crunches, but he doesn't hear it for the thumping of his blood pumping around his body.

He feels warm in a way he's never experienced, not even in the throes of passion with Yennefer, or at a brothel.

His fingers twitch, his body feeling heavy with each step.

Jaskier isn't even looking at him, furiously writing down words onto a page. Geralt's never looks at what he writes, but he likes the way he sprawls black ink across the pages.

He steps forward, his leg hitting Jaskier's knee.

There's a huff of protest from Jaskier for a second, then he's looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

The argument is over before it begins, because Geralt reaches out with his hands, cupping his face with one and holding onto his bicep with another, and then Jaskier is rising to meet him.

Those blue eyes sparkle in confusion. They dart back and forth, up and down, as if Geralt's expression will reveal the secret.

Geralt feels breathless, like the air is thin. He moves his other hand up Jaskier's arm, sliding up and behind his neck.

The bard's lips are parted, tempting Geralt to taste them. Jaskier peers up at him, blinking.

There's a brief pause, a moment while Geralt tries to commit this to memory.

Then he leans forward, bringing their lips together.

Jaskier whimpers at the touch, barely responding, then suddenly his hands clutch onto Geralt's shirt, pulling hard.

Their lips slide together, soft and tender. The taste of plum wine that Jaskier drank earlier while they were in town fills Geralt's senses.

This is the perfect moment, something that should never end.

Yet Jaskier pulls back, gasping for air for a second.

Those eyes shine, like they always do, and Jaskier bites his lips playfully, leaning his forehead against Geralt's.

"I have to ask something, Geralt, or I'm going to explode. And, please, I need you to answer me. How long have you wanted to do that?"

"Just…a while," he admits, giving a small shrug.

Jaskier splutters, slapping his arm. It doesn't hurt one bit.

"You…okay, fine. Tell me later. I just need you to kiss me again."

Their lips meet again, sending tingles of pleasure through Geralt. He feels himself melt into it, knowing deep in his bones that this is where he wants to be forever.

This right here is all he needs. Jaskier, his bard, his love, is his eternal summer.

[advena87]

Chapters: 5/5

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)

Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Prince Adrien (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Modren Au, Artist/Muse, Painting, Rare Pairings, Fade to Black, Lack of Communication, Miscommunication, mention of suicidal thoughts, Not Beta Read

The doorbell rang to find Kiyan in the kitchen, half an hour after the reminder on his phone had alerted him that the meeting was about to start. Honestly, Kiyan thought his client wasn't going to show up, it wouldn't be the first time someone made an appointment and didn't turn up. It was extremely annoying, but there was little he could do about it. At the same time, since Kiyan had gotten used to the idea of a free evening, being half an hour late seemed even more annoying.

"You're late," he announced coldly as he opened the door for the man waiting on the threshold. Kiyan had no patience for people who wasted his time and made no attempt to hide his disapproval.

"Good evening," the man replied with a slight, almost apologetic smile at the corner of his mouth. It could be a sign of remorse, but Kiyan saw amusement in his guest's dark eyes. No, it wasn't remorse. A rather indulgent smirk from someone who thinks others should wait for him. "Sorry to be late, terrible traffic jams on the roads, I was caught in the rush hour".

Kiyan's eyebrow twitched dangerously at the man's casual explanation. He wanted to slam the door in his face, but he held back his violent impulses. Firstly, he was an adult and could control himself. Second, he was a professional and cared about his reputation. And thirdly, he needed the money and the guy looked rich.

He was a tall man, about half a head taller than Kiyan, and he had an impeccable figure that was accentuated by his very well-chosen clothes. He wore an expensive suit under his unbuttoned black coat, but no tie. The collar was casually open, and on his wrist was a gold watch, probably worth more than Kiyan's flat. Yes, the client was definitely solvent.

Regarding his appearance, Kiyan looked boldly into his guest's eyes and studied with satisfaction the symmetrical face, with pronounced cheekbones and a defined jaw, surrounded by a neatly trimmed black beard. The eyes were the perfect distance apart, large and dark, with long black lashes. The only imperfection in this handsome face seemed to be the nose, a little too long overall, with a slight bump, but somehow it suited him, giving the man's face more character and expression. The visitor's long black curly hair, neatly tied back at the nape of his neck, was also a lovely sight, and his smooth skin was a pleasant shade of golden brown. There was no doubt that the client was a very attractive man, so this job promised to be pleasant despite the delay.

"Does my being late mean that I won't be invited in?" the man finally asked, and Kiyan realized that he had been staring at the client, who was still standing at the door.

"Please come in," he replied, still somewhat distracted, and opened the door wider so that his visitor could finally enter. "To be honest, I didn't think you were going to show up."

"There is no way I would pass up such an opportunity." The man smiled brightly, but there was something predatory about it.

READ ON AO3

[katwriteswitcherthings]

Fandom: The Witcher (The Witcher 3 specifically)

Relationship: Prince Adrien/Kiyan

Rating: M

Additional Tags: AU - Modern Witchers, Light Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life, Museums, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Assholes in Love, Murder Husbands, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Past Torture, Soft Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Soft Kiyan (The Witcher), Vampire Prince Adrien

Summary:

Adrien loves to walk through art galleries and museums. Kiyan follows him loyally; his ever-present bodyguard. Adrien has a surprise for his most loyal companion.

A/N: Prompt #17 fill for @reverseprompts and The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #61.

This tried so hard to become smut, but alas, I ran out of time. I found this post after I had already written this, so it doesn't quite work for Adrien to be wearing (I don't think those shoes would click on hardwood floors), but I want him to be wearing it so badly and I thought you should know.

[lambden]

my entry for the latest flash fic challenge was revealed! the image prompt was a grand ballroom and I chose to write this ridiculously silly and also sexual-with-no-actual-smut fic where geralt reluctantly LARPs with jaskier. enjoy!!

2.9K, M, no warnings Also on AO3!

“My lord,” begins Jaskier, tentative but with that ever present edge in his voice that means trouble. Geralt sets down his knife hard. The table shakes but the wine does not spill, and the witcher is glad for this, as his companion would no doubt lunge to clean up the mess. “Is the duck to your liking?”

Geralt hisses, “Stop.”

“Oh? Shall I have the chef executed?” Tearing into his own meal with unabashed glee, Jaskier only pauses to grin at him. “Or shall I call your Knight Commander to send out his men in search of a fine pheasant for your dinner?”

“How about roasted bard instead?”

“Very well.” Jaskier accepts his fate with dignity— and a theatrical gulp and grimace. “If you wish it, sire. I’ll have them bring out the pyre immediately, and you won’t hear even a whimper from me; I consider it an honour to die in service of the best king who ever lived—“

“Jaskier, if you don’t stop, I’ll meditate the rest of the night.”

This threat finally gives Jaskier pause, although Geralt doubts he’ll stop the charade for long. He can’t even really blame the bard for his absurd behaviour; not when this is one of the more absurd situations they’ve been thrust into together. Or, rather, that Geralt has been thrust into while Jaskier has clung to his arm, ready and willing to face any and all shenanigans.

They’re on hour three of the confinement. At dusk, the royal family had taken their finest horses on an overnight journey to the next kingdom over. The official reason for the trip was to oversee the wedding of their eldest princess and a foreign prince. But the real reason is that the paranoid king suspects treasonous conspiring in his court. So in secret he hired Geralt, and told the witcher to guard his throne room overnight. If anyone on their staff tries to break in to peek at valuable documents or switch heirlooms, well— the king will have his traitor. And Geralt gets paid either way, so he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

He had been hesitant to take this job, especially since the royals reached out to him specifically and personally. But their kingdom is relatively small, and as soon as Geralt discovered that he wouldn’t be expected to accompany the nobility on their journey, the contract became irresistible. A royal salary for a job involving very little actual contact with royals. Plus a large dining hall with provided dinner, wine, and a bath and bed for him to use upon their return in the morning.

If only he’d known in advance how much the bard would love it.

For three hours now, Jaskier has been ‘sire’ and ‘milord’ and ‘your Excellency’ing him, to the point where Geralt is contemplating abandoning the throne room altogether. Geralt had scoped out all possible entrances to the monumental room, including secret trapdoors or hidden windows behind paintings. All the while, the bard had eagerly regaled him with a full set that he never asked to hear. Geralt had carefully examined each curtain for potential lurking spies, as Jaskier built a whole fiction about his wise dominion over his epic kingdom. And now that he feels comfortable enough to sit and eat, the bard insists on laying a serviette over his lap and pushing in his chair.

The lukewarm food is still better than they’ve had in weeks, but the duck is a little dry. Geralt reaches for the carafe of red wine from Toussaint, but to his extreme annoyance, he cannot fucking reach it. Embarrassed, Geralt mutters, “Pass the wine.”

The smile twitching at Jaskier’s lips is positively impish. Not for the first time, Geralt wonders if there’s any truth to Yennefer’s theory about Jaskier’s bloodline being touched by the fae. “If I do, will you play along?”

“Ugh.” The doors are unlocked and unguarded, but there’s no one here. The twilight has long faded from the curtains and they still have a long night ahead. Geralt inhales, nose flaring, and then finally caves. “Is that any way to speak to your king?”

Jaskier’s delight almost makes this silly charade worth it. The bard jumps to his feet, bleating out apologies, “I’m so— my— I misspoke, my lord, please forgive me,” and he grabs the pitcher. In an instant, Geralt’s goblet is refilled; the witcher raises a hand to stop him before Jaskier can pour him far too much. As he backs away and sets the carafe down, the chandeliers hanging above their heads twinkle in his bright gaze. “Will that be all, sire?”

“I should order you to go give Roach a sponge bath,” Geralt snorts. Jaskier doesn’t even falter, still standing at attention. “I suppose my options for what I can ask you to do within this throne room are limited.”

“Anything,” says Jaskier, too quickly. Then his pulse picks up, and blotches of pink creep into his cheeks and along his throat. Even if he didn’t mean to voice that aloud, he doesn’t walk it back either. Carefully, the bard folds his hands behind his back, and adds, “Anything you desire, my lord.”

The grandiose, sprawling throne room suddenly seems as small as a closet. Geralt takes a long sip of his wine, and doesn’t remove his gaze from Jaskier as he swallows. The bard twitches as if uncomfortable, but he doesn’t move an inch— he just stands there, blushing, hands behind his back in servitude. Geralt expects him to break the tension between them with a quip, an awkward laugh. Anything.

Back when they first started adventuring together, Geralt dreamt of having the bard like this; but Jaskier was too young, too inexperienced with the world. There were times when he’d angrily shoved his companion up against his wall and covered his mouth, and he had felt Jaskier’s warm breath on his gloved palm and the evidence of his body stirring between them. Other times Geralt had feigned a meditative state as the bard, only a dozen feet away, took himself in hand and moaned over and over. Always the same name. Geralt wonders if Jaskier still gets off thinking about him, or if his lust for the witcher faded as they travelled together.

Jaskier stands, silently awaiting his orders.

“Sit,” Geralt says, his voice unexpectedly thick. At his command, Jaskier retreats to his seat, and nearly collapses into it. “And eat. I want you to finish your plate, first and foremost. I can’t have… my most trusted advisor starving to death.”

Jaskier nods, lifting his fork and knife. His face is still pink. Satisfied, Geralt reaches for his wine, resting his elbow on the table and leaning a little more into his assigned role. The wine is good, and the food, though cooling, is still enjoyable. He makes sure to keep watch on the door, lest anyone come to interrupt their fun. But… the embarrassment that he thought would be too much to handle is nowhere to be found. Instead he finds he enjoys watching Jaskier actually do what he says for once.

As soon as Jaskier’s lips close around his last bite, Geralt rises from his seat at the head of the table. The abrupt scrape of his chair against the floor makes the bard jump, but thankfully he doesn’t choke; he only swallows his food quickly before mimicking the witcher.

Geralt tosses his napkin away, carrying only his goblet and his swords over to the royal throne. He reclines into it without hesitation, spreading his legs and rolling his head back as any real spoiled king would. In his decades, Geralt has seen a hundred nobles drunk on their own power, bloated with wealth even when their kingdoms live in poverty. He summons that same self-importance now, running his hands through his hair to undo his loose braids. It’s easy to mimic a stuck-up king.

It’s harder to maintain his composure when he rolls his chin back down to see Jaskier already staring, standing before him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. The bard’s frippery fits him well; he looks right at home in this royal court, as he would in any. Geralt tries not to sound too distracted as he asks, “Is there something else, Jaskier?”

“No, my lord,” Jaskier answers. Again he speaks too quickly; again he’s blushing.

Geralt takes pity on him. “Why don’t you play me another of your compositions? I only invite the best bards into my court, you know. And it’s said across the land you’re the very best.”

Now he’s just teasing. Even as Jaskier frantically grabs his lute, he responds with the utmost sincerity, “Thank you, my lord.”

“Despite that witcher you follow around,” jokes Geralt. “Bit of a prick, don’t you think?”

“He is my muse, my lord,” Jaskier says. He strums the first chord of Toss A Coin. “I could no sooner deliver an insult to him than I could deride my own writing abilities, for, indeed, my work had no meaning until I stumbled across the witcher.”

“I doubt that very much. Trained at Oxenfurt, didn’t you?”

As if chastened, Jaskier lowers his head. Geralt knows better— he doesn’t have to see Jaskier’s flushed face to sense his racing pulse. “Yes…”

“And you have connections all across the Continent,” teases Geralt. He’s beginning to understand why Jaskier enjoys this game so much. “Could one witcher really mean so much to a bard as travelled and distinguished as you?”

“Yes,” Jaskier repeats. He lifts his chin; his eyes are bluer than ever. “I would never have travelled anywhere without him— or if so, it wouldn’t have meant anything. And with all the audiences I have had, none have distinguished me from the others as he has. He means everything to me.”

“Ah,” chokes Geralt, unexpectedly affected. “The passion behind your work is clear, then, master bard. You… love this man.”

“Of course,” Jaskier says. He has previously proclaimed his love for Geralt at least dozens of  times: when the witcher let him ride Roach after he twisted an ankle, and again when Lambert had asked why he had come to Kaer Morhen, and sometimes out of nowhere. Why are you staring? Just thinking about how much I love you. Geralt had always interpreted the sentiment as teasing and altogether unserious. It is impossible to avoid taking Jaskier seriously when they’re alone like this, and when damp emotion gathers in his already bright eyes. “Of course I fucking do. Um. Your majesty…?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt begins. Speaking is more difficult now than ever, and he chews his lip before probably landing on the wrong thing to say anyway: “Come kneel before your king.”

“Yes,” breathes the bard, before falling to his knees so hard he must hurt them against the polished, cold floor. Geralt does not let his pain go unnoticed, leaning forward so far out of his throne that the chestplate of his armour touches his thighs. He takes Jaskier’s blushing, bright face in his broad hands, laying his fingers on the man’s temples before kissing him deeply.

Jaskier’s mouth is a revelation. Geralt pulls him up, kissing him all the while— he never wants to break away— and Jaskier follows readily and eagerly. It takes very little work to tug the man up into his lap, and once his thighs bracket Geralt’s lap on the heavy throne, Geralt’s questing fingers sneak up to weave themselves in Jaskier’s short, soft hair.

“Oh,” the bard groans, low and desperate. His head moves with Geralt’s hands; the witcher exposes his neck easily by pulling his hair, and it’s just as easy to duck down and kiss his bare throat above his fancy collar. “The king roleplay really did it for you, huh? Or is this the wine?”

“Not the wine,” Geralt growls, nipping his pulse.

Jaskier actually squeaks, which is delightful and adorable and only encourages Geralt to bite him again. “Right. The throne, then? I can’t say I blame you, witcher dearest; I knew you’d have fun playing pretend with me. You only had to let yourself give in—”

“Far too much talking,” he complains, dragging his fangs over an exposed vein. Even though he obviously doesn’t press hard enough to draw blood, his teeth leave a monstrous pink scrape over Jaskier’s neck. Geralt should probably feel worse about that. His cock throbs inside his armour. “And it’s not your stupid game either.”

“Really? Then pray tell—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt hisses, exasperated. He’s been exasperated for hours now, and even though this isn’t how he expected his irritation to peak, he has no complaints. He reaches for the man’s hips, dragging Jaskier closer on his lap until he can rock their hips together and show him the hard, hot proof of his desire. “It’s you, you fool. Of course it’s you.” Jaskier’s eyes widen; maybe he truly hadn’t known, all these years, that Geralt returned his affections. “Do you really think I’d do all this stupid shit for anyone else?”

Before Jaskier can voice whatever further doubt is on his mind, Geralt kisses him again. This time the bard kisses back instantaneously, with the same passion he carries himself with on stage. Geralt grins into their kisses— until Jaskier does something very clever with his tongue, disrupting his brain processes entirely.

He hadn’t expected much from this contract. He quickly rewrites it in his memory as the best job he ever took.

-

The bard’s clothes are hanging off the arm of the throne when, from out in the hall, the witcher hears a distant creak.

Geralt’s warning is somewhat muffled against Jaskier’s lips, and he doesn’t think the bard would have enough time to hide anyway. He ends up lifting the man with one arm, determinedly ignoring the loud moan that Jaskier releases at that. It’s easy enough to set him down next to the throne; grabbing his swords in time is somewhat more difficult.

As the bard takes cover, Geralt strides over to stand in front of the door. Sure enough, it slides open and the royal family’s seneschal enters. He’s as astonished as could have been expected. “What the fuck are you doing in my lord’s throne room?!”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Geralt growls right back. “I was hired to guard this room, and instructed that no one would come calling. Why didn’t you accompany your king and queen to see their daughter off?”

“My job is to stay here and care for the castle and its staff,” the seneschal insists. A bead of sweat drips down his neck, and he does a poor job of hiding his nerves; even a human could detect his stress. He glances around Geralt at the table laden with half-eaten dinner and half-finished wine, and the curtains drawn shut to avoid watchful gazes from below. Luckily, Jaskier had the smarts to yank his clothing out of sight— and the throne, though perhaps sweaty, is empty as expected. “Perhaps… you could take your leave for the night? We’ve a few empty rooms; you could sleep there.”

Geralt huffs, amused. “And leave the most important room in the palace unguarded.”

“How much has the king offered you?” The seneschal fumbles to find coin, still sweating. “I can pay!”

The tiny snick of his dagger leaving its sheath is almost impossible to hear, but to Geralt’s enhanced senses, it echoes around the room. Before the seneschal can draw his weapon and make his attempt at an assassination, Geralt’s steel blade is up against his throat, pressing him back against the open doorframe. “Not interested.”

-

By the time he returns from the dungeon, Geralt is covered in a thin layer of old dust and new sweat. He’d actually cherish a bath now, although he still won’t have the opportunity until the morning. Even though the seneschal has been secured and is awaiting further judgement, he still needs to maintain his post.

But when he pushes open the doors to the throne room he sees a new king seated atop the throne; although right now, Jaskier looks more like a succubus. His body is entirely bare, and his legs, spread wide open, are an invitation that Geralt eagerly takes. He strides the length of the enormous room in only a few steps, finally coming to kneel before the throne so that he can stare up at his bard.

With a disaffected tone only betrayed by the twinkle in his eyes, Jaskier asks, “Has the threat been disposed of, witcher?”

“He’ll have to wait out the rest of the night in a cell,” Geralt tells him. “Then in the morning his king can hand down his sentence.”

“You’ve done well,” Jaskier murmurs. His hand almost feels like a benediction when it comes down to gently trace the bone in Geralt’s cheek and jaw; the witcher closes his eyes, and Jaskier exhales deep. “You deserve a hefty reward.”

“I have one in mind,” teases Geralt. When he opens his eyes, Jaskier already has a fist around his length, watching the witcher closely. Geralt grins, thrilled, and lunges for his reward.

-

“While the princess and her betrothed were away,

Back at home the king and his lover did play—”

“No.”

“On a cold winter’s night,

Under chandelier light,

A man of such great might

And an arsehole so tight—”

“Jaskier!”

“Hang on, I’ve almost got it! After apprehending a treasonous foe,

And hanging the bastard by his little toe,

The witcher returned to collect his reward,

And entered the throneroom of the great warlord…

The witcher approached him and began to talk;

‘Sire, I much desi-re to ride on your—”

“JASKIER!”

[codaattheend]

[tagged by @vhstapeworm]

("Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers.")

IMMORTALIS is a FitMC-centric QSMP pseudo-prequel made in a fugue state over the course of four hours, during which half my time was spent figuring out how to do the title formatting. The corruption inherent in divinity, the sanctity of data, the differences between anarchy servers and narrativised servers manifesting as mind alteration and control. Even if you don't know anything about the fandom, I beseech you to click in just to see the title formatting. Perhaps hover/tap it as well...

Ghost Stories is a Schlackity fic about love irrevocably entwined with envy, trying and failing to move on from something you refuse to let go of, and a bit of cannibalism, both literal and metaphorical. It is one of the few fics I've written where I feel like I've properly captured the distinct emotional flavor I was attempting to convey. Here, it is bitterness, hunger, and longing long since rotting in the ground.

something deep and powerful is a D20: Neverafter gorefic about cannibalism. This is the only fic I've ever written that actively made me feel uncomfortable. I looked up so many concerning anatomy things for this fic. It is also, in its own way, about abusive mothers.

Swan Song is an AEduo Witcher AU fic made as part of a recursive telephone fic challenge (each work inspired by the previous), featuring curses, cycles, death, and the simple agony of loss. I'm decently proud of the tonality I managed to hit, like light through stained glass. I recommend reading the work this is inspired by and the next few works inspired by it, since we all got into a Witcher groove for a bit.

Paradox Cascade and its sequel/part two Killing Time are my first forays into the CYOA genre of fic, narrativisations of In Space With Markiplier parts one and two. These taught me so much about HTML, workskins, links, and more. They are decently ugly, un-innovative, messily made, and I love them. If I were writing them with the knowledge of CSS I have now, I would have done more ambitious things with them, but these taught me everything that I am using now for a new CYOA fic (that should have been finished over a year ago (for a 48-hour flash exchange (sorry Floral))).

(I think all the authors I know on this site have already been tagged, so if you see this and are a fic writer, consider yourself tagged. (Also, feel free to say hi.))

[hidden-misthios]

Something in the Orange (part 1)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 230

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her. 

A/n: Just like my last Lambert fic, this one is going to be a mix of games, books and show. Excuse any grammar errors you find.

Find me.

Those were the only words Y/N heard in her dreams for last eight nights. She didn’t even see a person who kept repeating them and it was tiring.

A dark fortress surrounded by a veil of rain and brief flashes of thunder. Not a place she ever visited but Y/N had a feeling she knew the place like a palm of her own hand. As soon as she approached old wooden doors and opened them, the melody of the organ started playing in the distance, filling her ears. No matter how much she wandered around the castle, she could never find the person playing them nor the instrument itself. At some point, she would give up, but each time, the music would become louder and faster. Then, she would suddenly remember why she came here in the first place. She was looking for someone! But as soon as she tried to remember who it was, the world around her started to spin, making Y/N feel like she’s going to fall. She would close her eyes, trying to focus but nothing helped.

And then she would wake up.

In her bed at her own house, in middle of Novigrad.

She didn’t have time or energy to interpret her own dreams. As an oneiromancer, Y/N’s job was to read the future and past using the dreams of others. Her own had to wait for now.

                                                            ***

Corrine Tilly, Y/N’s mentor, was furious again. Y/N was late for fourth time this week and those dreams were the reason why. Y/N didn’t share them with Corrine yet but she owned her mentor explanation. That is, if Corrine doesn’t fire her.

“You know, if you don’t want to work for me anymore, you’re free to go. This is getting ridiculous.” Corrine said, crossing arms on her chests. Y/N closed the doors behind her and approached the brown-haired woman. Corrine was young sorceress who built quite a reputation for interpreting other people's dreams. Her customers were usually wealthy residents of Novigrad but every now and then someone from outside of city walls would show up and ask for her help.

Corrine lived off this money for seven years now and she could afford an apprentice. Y/N was quite lucky to learn from Corrine. She learned how to control the dreams better. Which, for some people proved harder, especially if they weren’t truthful at first.

“I’m sorry Corrine, I really am.” Y/N started. “But it’s not my fault.”

“No?” Corrine raised her eyebrows and starts slowly pacing around the customer room. This was the biggest room of the house and it was fully decorated to look and feel like a bedroom. There was a spacious bed full of pillows, big carpet, lots of candles and clary sage incense for customers to fall asleep easier.

“I-I…” Y/N tried to sort out her thoughts “I have dreams.” she said, fully aware that everyone else would find these words absurd but she knew her mentor. Corrine knew very well what those words meant.

“What kind?” woman asked in serious tone, sitting down on her chair and crossing her legs. That was her spot whenever she would interview the customer and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like one at the moment.

“Recurring.”

“For how long?”

“Eight nights.” Y/N answers.

“And you’re telling me this now?” Corrine asks. Y/N could swear she heard disappointment in her mentor’s voice.

“I didn’t want to bother you. I knew our schedule was full this week-”

“Y/N, you’re not just someone I’d squeeze into schedule. If you have any kind of problem, not just dream related…you can always count on me.” Corrine’s face softened.

Y/N was about to say something when the doorbell rang and they both turned to the doors. No one was supposed to arrive until noon. It was too early.

“I’m sorry, but we are not taking in any new customers right now-” Corrine stood up.

“Good thing I’m not new, then.” Jaskier’s head popped up through the door.

“Viscount. Come in.” Corrine smiles at the bard. Although Jaskier said he doesn’t care about his viscount title, Corrine was still addressing him as one.

Jaskier approaches her with a wide smile, theatrically leans down and kisses Corrine’s hand. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes but still smiled a bit. She had to admit, her best friend knew his way around women.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear Corrine.” Jaskier speaks and then finally turns to Y/N.

“What brings you here?” Y/N asks. Usually, they would meet at Rosemary and Thyme, the cabaret that Jaskier himself owned. Before Y/N found Corrine, she worked there to help him out and in return Jaskier gave her a roof over her head.

“We need to talk.” Jaskier says completely serious this time. Corrine took that as her hint.

“I’m going out. If you need me, I’ll be at Triss’ place.” she says, throwing the dark blue cloak around her shoulders. They said their goodbyes and as soon as sorceress left, Jaskier moved closer to Y/N.

“Look at this.” he hands Y/N folded piece of paper. Y/N opens it. It was a letter, obviously written in distress or hurry.

Bard,

In light of recent events, I have no choice but to ask for your help. I cannot discuss the details in this letter but I assure you, if you still care about the White Wolf, you’re going to want to join us as soon as possible.

He’s missing.

P.S. Oh, and bring a sorceress along. I am aware you know quite a few.

V

Y/N looks back to Jaskier. This sounded odd. Jaskier took the letter back, looking at it like it might tell him more if he asked nicely.

“Who sent this?” Y/N asks. She figured that the White Wolf was Jaskier’s friend Geralt of Rivia, the witcher she had only seen once. But the V on the bottom of the page wasn’t giving any clues.

“It’s probably Vesemir, Geralt’s mentor.” Jaskier said, folding the letter.

“Why does the witcher need your help? What are you going to do? Sing them your latest hits until they figure out where Geralt is?” Y/N asks, raising her eyebrows. Jaskier give her an annoyed look.

“Very funny. Also no, because I happen to be very good at tracking-”

“Jaskier, you got lost on your way from Oxenfurt to Novigrad.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to complain, but Y/N wasn’t having it. “It’s a 15-minute-long horse ride.”

“It was early morning; I was still half asleep.”

“Forget I said anything.” Y/N realizes she should drop it. She turned around and started preparing incense for their first customer that day.

“Are you coming with me?” Jaskier asked.

Y/N turns around to face him again. “To Kaer Morhen? Jaskier, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? You are a sorceress and Vesemir said I should bring one.” Jaskier shrugged. Y/N gave him a look.

“He didn’t mention me specifically. I’m sure Felicia Cori would love to help you out.” Y/N said. Felicia was practically Geralt’s fan from the moment she heard about him in Aretuza, academy for young ladies who were practising magic. She lived couples of streets further and was a good friend of Corrine.

“But I’m not asking her, I’m asking you, Y/N.” Jaskier said, slowly losing his patience.

“How on earth is my skill of any use to you or them? We don’t even know what happen to your friend!” Y/N says, crossing arms on her chests.

“You could form a dream for Vesemir and see where Geralt is.” Jaskier suggested.

“You know that those don’t always work for missing persons.”

“I know but can you just once believe my judgment?” he asks. Y/N raised her eyebrows. She believed his judgment lots of times and it usually meant nothing but trouble. This sounded like one as well.

“Absolutely not. Jaskier, I’m not horse riding for a week for no reason. I have no clues, no ideas how to handle this. And also, how am I supposed to leave Corrine? She’s already pissed at me for being late-”

“Let me handle everything. And we are not horse riding.” Jaskier says proudly.

“No?” Y/N asks, tilting her head a little.

“I’ll show you.”

                                                           ***

And there they were, the next day, at Rosemary and Thyme’s attic. There was only one candle burning and the air was filled with dust, smell of old books and costumes. Y/N had to jump over a couple of old suitcases before they finally stopped walking.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, dusting herself off.

Jaskier didn’t answer but started looking through the old bags on the floor. Y/N crossed arms on her chests, waiting for the bard’s explanation.

“Ah, here it is!” he finally said. Y/N looked at his hands. He was holding a crystal. Not just any crystal. That was a power crystal and it was used specifically for portals.

Y/N gaped. “Jaskier, how did you get that?” she asked cautiously. Jaskier started moved further into the dark attic, Y/N following him.

“Turns out doing favours for sorceresses has its perks.” he answered merrily.

“Do you even know how it works?” Y/N raised eyebrows.

“Of course! I’ve been to Kaer Morhen on multiple occasions thanks to this portal right there.”

“Fine. Turn it on, then.” Y/N says, her voice suddenly soft. Ironically, she didn’t like portals. Traveling through them was quick but Y/N preferred other methods. Unfortunately for her, this was the only magical way to get into Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier cleaned the crystal with his sleeve and then moved closer to the wooden wall. There, Y/N saw a shelf with nothing but small steel stand in the middle of it. Jaskier slowly approached and placed the crystal on the stand. Nothing happened.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks, suddenly worried.

“We need to revive it. It’s dead.” Y/N realized.

“How? I’m no medic nor-”

“Move.” Y/N tells him and Jaskier obeys. Y/N takes the crystal in her hands and clears her mind. Using a simple, yet powerful spell, Y/N starts off the crystal. Its core started glowing and she places it back on the stand. Loud sound of wind filled their ears. The wall in front of them vanished and dark twirling circle appeared instead.

The portal was open.

“Let’s go.”

 The welcoming party is not really welcoming, Y/N thought as soon as she saw the unfamiliar faces. Jaskier didn’t seem like he was bothered by it. They walked across the long hall and approached the table occupied by two armed men who didn’t exactly smile at their presence.

“Eskel, Coen. Nice to see you again.” he slightly lowered his head.

“Who’s this, bard?” the taller one, Eskel, Y/N presumed, asks as he crossed his arms on chests. He looked like he wasn’t happy to see newcomers. Or oldcomers. Or anyone at this point.

“Ah, yes, right, manners. This is Y/N. Very powerful sorceress. Vesemir told me to bring one. So, I did.” Jaskier explained.

“Pleasure.” Y/N said, trying to sound more delighted than she truly was.

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Eskel said.

“What is that supposed-”

“Enough.” a deep voice echoed through the hall. “Jaskier. Sorceress. Please join me.”

Y/N and Jaskier both turned around towards the exit. There, was an older man standing, his face scarred and old but still Y/N felt like his presence required utter respect.

That must be Vesemir, Y/N realized.

Jaskier and Y/N both joined him. Jaskier briefly introduced them and Y/N nodded at the old witcher. Vesemir then led them down the hall without word. They walked for a while in silence, passing by several closed doors, until they finally reached the right one.

Vesemir opened the door and let them into the big round room with high celling. There, in the middle of it, stood one large table. The walls were filled with books, bottles and various herbs. Old chandelier in the middle of room was the only source of light.

They approached the table and Vesemir unfolded three papers in front of them.

“This is all we got.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

Jaskier took the first paper and stood next to Y/N. There, in the middle of the page, were three words written in black ink.

“That could be Elder speech. Really old one.” Y/N said. She learned basics at the academy, but these writings were definitely old. She wasn’t even sure if she saw them in their school books.

“Do you know what does it say?” Jaskier asks quietly.

“I’m not sure. Let me see.” Y/N says, taking the letter from Jaskier’s hands.

“It’s not in any of our books. I tried everything but couldn’t make a sense of it. The last letter that arrived is the only one that’s written in Common.” Vesemir said, handling the smallest piece of paper to Y/N. She frowned.

This one was indeed written in Common speech but this time ink was dark red. Y/N sincerely hoped it wasn't blood.

“Wolf got taken. “She read the first sentence and then noticed another one on bottom of the page. “Will pay for his sins.”

Their Common is not perfect. Who could this be? Elves?

Y/N noticed how Jaskier’s jaw clenched. She never saw him this quiet and serious.

Vesemir then hands her the last paper. This one had a drawing. It was a simple one, but Y/N immediately figured what it was - an open palm of hand, with drops of blood on each finger. In the middle of the palm was a much bigger drop of blood, shaped like a tear.

“When did you get these?” Y/N asks, looking at all those letters in her hands.

Vesemir opened his mouth to answer but the loud squealing of door hinges interrupted him. The door opened and stranger walked in. With wolf medallion hanging around his neck and long red curls framing his face, he walked towards them.

“Stop wasting time, Vesemir.” he looked at his mentor, completely ignoring Jaskier and Y/N.

Y/N raised her eyebrows slightly.

Would it kill them to show some politeness?

“Lambert, this is Y/N. She’s going to help us decode these letters. And you’re going-”

“We should be out there looking for him! Not wasting time with these stupid letters.” he raises his voice. Vesemir gave him look of complete disapproval.

“You don’t get to decide what is a waste of time or isn’t. Now, show Y/N the library and get her whatever will be needed.”

For a second, Y/N thought Lambert would just storm out but then he finally looked at Y/N.

“Follow me, witch.” he muttered quietly, the anger still present in his tone.

Y/N squinted her eyes. “Sorceress.” she corrected him. Lambert just stared at her, his eyes also squinting. Jaskier, still standing on Y/N’s right side, stepped forward and cleaned his throat.

“Term ‘witch’ is mostly used by those who call themselves witch hunters, you know, it’s usually a derogatory term-”

“I know. Now, follow me.” Lambert interrupted him, still not looking away from Y/N. Y/N didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her in discomfort so she stepped forward and joined him.

“Find me if you need anything.” she told Jaskier before leaving, giving him a comforting look.

Jaskier nodded, but she could see concern in his eyes.

Finally, she turns to red headed witcher and joins him down the hall. They walked in silence, Lambert clearly keeping his distance. Unfortunately for Y/N, the library was located at the other end of the Kaer Morhen and their awkward, silent walk took a while.

“Does your library have any books of First elves?” she asks when they finally made it. Lambert sat on top of the table and shrugged.

“Do I look like librarian? I have idea. I haven’t been in this part of castle for 5 years. You’re on your own, witch.”

Y/N approached the table so quickly she even surprised herself. Lifting her hand, with a small orb of red light in it, she pushes it towards his face. Lambert face was stone cold, no fear.

“Call me witch one more time, I dare you.” she hissed. She lowered the orb a little. He didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Don’t challenge me if you can’t keep up, sweetheart.” he suddenly grins. Y/N was about to protest but then she feels a soft pressure just above the bellybutton. She lowers her eyes and sees short but sharp blade, resting on her corset.

Y/N frowns.

“Seems like you’re forgetting why I’m here, witcher.” she warns him, ignoring the blade. Lambert raises his eyebrows a little then finally drops the blade. Y/N still stepped aside just in case.

“To decode some stupid letters, which are-”

“Yes, yes, waste of time. Now let me work if you don’t plan on helping me.” she says and walks away towards the shelves.

She heard Lambert mummering something but this time she decides to ignore him, switching focus on those old books in front of her. It was clear that someone organized them alphabetically long time ago but every now and then she would find some who obviously wouldn’t fit into that order. There was lots of books about herbs, survival skills and potion making but those weren’t helping at all. So, she moved to another bookshelf. There, Y/N found some historical books about Continent.

Beatrix of Kovir.

The Elder Blood.

The Conjunction of the Spheres.

And then, Y/N saw it. The old, yellow copy of Elder Speech Dictionary. She grabbed the book and started flipping pages. Few minutes passed by and…

Nothing.

All the symbols, words and phrases were something she was already familiar with. She sighed and put the book back in its place. She knew this wouldn’t be easy. Y/N took another look at those letters. That hand symbol bothered her. She felt like she saw it somewhere.

*Few hours later*

It was dark outside when Y/N finally looked through the library window. Some time ago, Jaskier showed up with a glass of wine and dinner which Y/N barely tasted. She couldn’t eat until she figured out the hand symbol. Lambert was long gone, with no explanation or excuse, but Y/N certainly didn’t mind.

Just some time after midnight, the doors of the library opened again.

“You’re still here?” Vesemir asked, entering the room and then closing the doors behind him.

“I can’t sleep until I figure this out.” Y/N answered, flipping through the Book of Urban Myths. Truth is, she was not looking forward to her dreams. She knew she would have to relive that dream all over again.

Vesemir chuckled, but it sounded miserable. “I appreciate the optimism but I’m afraid the books won’t do much of help.”

Y/N stopped flipping through the book and looked at Vesemir.

“You’re right. We should try my method.”

“Which is?” he raises eyebrows.

“Jaskier didn’t tell you? I’m oneiromancer.” Y/N said, closing the book in her hands.

Vesemir thought about it for a second and then slowly nodded. “We should give your method a chance then.” he said, crossing arms on his chests.” But not with me since I haven’t seen Geralt for a while now and therefor won’t be much of use to you. You should do it with the one who last saw him.”

“And who was that?” Y/N asks, glad he agreed with her.

“Lambert.”

[mekana47]

2023 Fanfic Reflections

Tagging: With no pressure, @beepbeepsan, @isabellehemlock, @alllthequeenshorses, @genyathefirebird, and anyone else who wants to play.

What is your favorite thing you created?   “A Little Trust” because it was my first fic in The Witcher fandom. I was nervous to try something new and starting off with an AU, but I love the idea of Lambert running a floral shop that’s a front for poisons and antidotes for this underworld of killers-for-hire.

Which work are you proudest of?  “Scene by Scene” I had a nearly completed fast draft of this story by the end of 2020, but it took me nearly three years to edit and post it. My standards changed, my skills changed, The Old Guard fandom shrunk considerably, but the emotional payoff speaks for itself.

Is there anything you are proud of that you achieved this year? I finished “Scene by Scene.” I posted 14 other fics, nearly doubling my total on AO3.

Did you explore anything new this year? (A new way to be creative, a trope you didn’t write before, or an idea you hadn’t thought of earlier, etc.) I started writing for a new fandom, which I had resisted because I still love TOG and have a ton of ideas and drafts, but to my surprise, writing for The Witcher also got me back into writing, in general, including for The Old Guard. I also did 48-hour challenges ten times. Having that deadline for posting doesn’t let me second-guess my choices.

Which work gave you the most difficulty? Either “Between You and Me (and You)” because it’s a Tenet time-travel PWP with two versions of the same character who canonically does not have a name, or “Buy Me Some Peanuts” because I completely restarted this Witcher baseball AU when I realized I’d started the story way too early for a flash fic. Also I cut like half the baseball jargon and I still feel like it’s jargon heavy.

What was your biggest creative challenge this year? I’m still not great at balancing new ideas, completed drafts that need editing, WIPs that aren’t ready to post, and WIPs that are already partially posted. Adding a new fandom gave me this surge of creativity and productivity, but I also have even more ideas. What am I going to post next? Not even I know.

Which work brought you the most joy? All of them, in different ways, but to choose one, “A Changing Tide.” I wanted to write something new solely for me, so I picked some prompts off a list and ended up with a fun TOG pirate AU.

Which of your works do you think people should check out? It depends on your interests. For The Witcher, I’d say “At Your Back” is representative of how I think about canon-- a web of witchers who trust and care about few others but will also trust those who’ve earned their loved ones’ trust. For The Old Guard, I strayed from my typical mission-fic this year for mostly PWPs, but “A Changing Tide” might be the most representative.

Do you have creative plans for next year?  Is there anything exciting you’re currently working on? For The Witcher, I’d like to finish “All Our Truths, Crossed Out,” keeping doing flash challenges that spark ideas, and work on a cursed!Geralt fic through January. For The Old Guard, I have two completed fast drafts that need heavy edits (one’s a sequel to the a/b/o “Rapid Boiling” and one’s a sorta spiritual prequel to “Hold Tight”), a Keane-centric futurefic that I adore but have only written about half of the fast draft, and the possibility of more pirates.

Lastly, any words of wisdom or anything else you would like to share? Have fun. Write what you want to write. You might be surprised what other people like. Finishing things can be helpful, but so can setting things aside.

[inexplicifics]

Kiyan may have talked Gaetan into being his plus-one to Morgraig Inc's quarterly all-company get-together, but he didn't say Gaetan couldn't hide in an alcove all night.

He didn't say Gaetan couldn't flirt with the very handsome man who wants to use the same hiding spot, either.

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher) Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Prince Adrien (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Modren Au, Artist/Muse, Painting, Rare Pairings, Fade to Black, Lack of Communication, Miscommunication, mention of suicidal thoughts, Not Beta Read

Summary:

"Does my being late mean I won't be invited in?" the man finally asked, and Kiyan realized he had stared, keeping the client still on the doorstep.

"Please come in," he replied, still somewhat distracted, and opened the door wider so his visitor could finally enter. "To be honest, I thought you wouldn't show up."

"I would absolutely not miss such an opportunity." The man smiled brightly, but there was something predatory about the smile.

[inexplicifics]

I wrote flash fic! Pretty sure I wasn’t Sneaky! Go check them out!

TWFF Challenge #71 Fics Revealed!

The picture prompt for this round was:

We've got 10 fics this round, and you can check them all out here! And then you can try to guess who wrote what here! Your authors this round are: @sternenstaub28, @ficsforfundota, Annvian, @major-trouble, @inexplicifics, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, Jockles, @ialwayscomewhenyoucall, @themanta and @xianvar!

And, as always, if you want to join us, you're welcome to join the Discord!

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

Lessons in Self Discovery

Fandom: The Witcher

Ships: Geralt xJaskier, Aiden x Lambert

Rating: Mature

Tags: open relationships, spanking, caning, bdsm, kink discovery, no sex

Geralt watches Jaskier get spanked by Aiden, then Lambert get caned. It makes him realise something about his own desires to submit.

Written for @thewitcherflashfic round 71. I couldn't help myself, I see traditional schoolroom and that's where my mind goes.

Also, it was a lovely opportunity to continue this foursome's dynamic from the last one, Jaskier sandwich.

[witcherwheeloftheyear]

Witcher Events List

A list of currently running fandom events for The Witcher. If you are  running an event and want to be on this list, please message me!

Updated: April 5 2023

Now with a spreadsheet

Save a Witcher Bingo

Late signups open: May 10th 2023

rules and details: here

-

Stoner Witcher

April 20th 2023

rules and details here

-

Witcher Comment Crawl

ongoing

rules and details: here

-

Witcher Fic Writer Prompts

ongoing, open-ended

rules and details: here

-

Witcher Flash Fic Challenge

ongoing, open-ended

rules and details: here

-

Witcher Kinkmeme (all canons)

ongoing, open-ended

Rules and details here

-

Witcher Monster Mayhem

all of May 2023, prompts revealed

Rules and details here

-

Witcher Netflix Kinkmeme

ongoing, open-ended

rules and details here

-

Witcher Rarepair Comment Exchange

next round: July 2023

Rules and details: here

-

Witcher Rarepair Prompt Fest

nomination period closes: Januar 31 2023

rules and details: here

-

Witcher Wheel of the Year

runs throughout 2023

rules and details: here

-

Upcoming Events:

Jaskierfest

rules and details: here

Past Events

in this handy spreadsheet

let me know if you are running an event!

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

2022 Writing Review

Tagged by: @ttimbradford on the LAST DAY OF THE YEAR because she wants me to scramble

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 14

2. Word count posted for the year: don't make me say it 386,717

3. Fandoms I wrote for: 9-1-1, The Witcher

4. Pairings: Buddie and Geraskier

5. Story with the most: 

kudos: The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) - 2,149 bookmarks: same as above - 997 comment threads: Let My Ink Stain Your Pages - 671

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): This is a difficult question. I'm proud of a few stories I worked on this year - Direct Deposit and Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) had me pushing myself as a writer and delving into topics I knew wouldn't necessarily be popular. However I think I have to go with In the Gray You are Golden, one of those magical moments where the inspiration hits like something divine, the words flow like water, and it all comes together.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): Don't Play Games (Come My Way) - I'm a perfectionist and while I can't quite articulate why, I don't feel like I quite nailed this story the way I should have. Like I just missed the bulls-eye.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: @mistmarauder never fails to delight me and make my day with her in-depth comments and general screeching. I think her responses to Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) and In the Gray You are Golden are my favorites, actually, although I know Curl Up In My Heart and Let Me Keep You is probably her favorite of mine from this year (no one is immune to cat!Buck).

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: Honestly, writing I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See was more of a challenge than I expected. I just had a lot going on in my real life so finding time and focus to work on it was difficult.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Buck babysitting Chris during the tsunami and while Eddie goes to fight club in I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See didn't come to me ahead of time - it just happened as I was writing and I literally stopped and stared into the distance for a second in delighted surprise.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: Oof. This was a tough one. Probably a tie between the entire segment of Eddie's thoughts when he's shot in Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) - the fic wasn't quite where I wanted it to be until I wrote that segment and then went back and sprinkled those quotes throughout the fic, turning the fic into one long flashback (which the reader doesn't realize until they reach the shooting). A small excerpt is here:

The thing he never told anyone is when his lover was unnamed and fed from him all he thought about was love. Love is poured into his mouth and he swallows and he b r e a t h e s.

The other would be frankly the entirety of In the Gray You are Golden but I really liked how I incorporated the tsunami/Eddie Begins into the fic with the flash flood and how I wrote it happening. I got a lot of comments saying how much the last few lines hit them like a gut punch and I'm so proud of that:

Christopher’s mouth is right at Buck’s ear. “Dad?” Buck starts shaking. He clenches his entire body to get it to stop. He shakes his head. Christopher is a child of the wasteland. He knows how to be silent when he cries.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I wrote situations where there's a lot of trauma and emotions going on (including during sex) and got a bit darker in that then I usually do, I wrote a couple tropes I hadn't thought I'd ever write or hadn't written before (such as a Zombie Apocalypse AU), I dipped my toe into HTML coding for the emails in I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See, and I incorporated poetry into a fic with Eddie's mental landscape as he's shot in Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) (yes fun fact I approached that segment as a poem).

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I hope to continue to find new and interesting situations to play with for my annual Halloween fics.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc): @extasiswings who always reassured and encouraged me when I was doubting myself - and of course she co-wrote A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words (But Love is Undefinable) with me.

Can't believe I almost forgot @catdadeddie whose Castle AU moodboard inspired me to write a fic that ended up being over 100k words long goddamn you Nova.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: If it did, I wouldn't be admitting it.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: If you don't make yourself take breaks to recharge your brain is going to make you and trust me, you will not like how that goes. Give yourself time to rest.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: Nothing in the fanfic world. I actually woke up with ideas for next Halloween and wrote them down so I wouldn't forget them, but those won't be until October which is a full ten months away.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@extasiswings @kitkatpancakestack @tripleaxeldiaz