#eist of skellige

[bookcalanthedaily]

sixty years of sorrow, he got five or six of bliss... left my mother's mother without so much as a kiss...

[faestorian]

Another Witcher commish for the lovely @bookcalanthedaily~

 A scene between queen Calanthe and her husband Eist, who had his hair and beard adorned with flowers by their granddaughter, young Cirilla~ She looks quite proud of herself! Her mother, Pavetta, on the other hand, seems quite surprised over the goings-on 🤭

[witcherscreenshotsdump]

[marvellouslymadmim]

Chapters: 31/? Fandom: The Witcher (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach Characters: Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Eist Tuirseach Additional Tags: Vignettes, Slow Burn, canon compliant(ish), allies to friends to lovers Summary:

A collection of nights Eist Tuirseach has spent in the company of the Queen of Cintra, from his very first to his very last.

[kumeko]

For the @witcher-fanzine, I wanted to explore Ciri's and Geralt's relationship, with special cameos by Eist, Mouse, her Witcher uncles, and Jaskier.

The zine's open for preorders! Check it out!

[shadeslayer]

ok got rly into gwent lately and playing some skellige decks and got esit tuirseach to be my leader avatar guy and sooo obsessed with how he sits down on a crate after hes doing playing his round. hes like nah man im not gonna stand here to watch this fool decide on cards for 5 minutes. disabled king

[dukeofdogs]

Master post for Gwent lore pt 1

Base set:

Monsters

Arachas Queen

Eredin Bréacc Glas

Unseen Elder

Woodland Spirit

Scoiatel

Brouver Hoog

Eithné

Filavandrel aén Fidháil

Francesca Findabair

Northern Realms:

Princess Adda 

Demavend

King Foltest

King Henselt

Nilfgaard

Emhyr var Emreis 

Jan Calveit

Morvran Voorhis 

Usurper

Skellige

Bran Tuirseach

Crach an Craite 

Eist Tuirseach 

Harald the Cripple

Year of the Wild Boar:

Thronebreaker

Ardal aep Dahy

Arnjolf

Eldain

Gernichora

Meve

Crimson Curse

Anna Henrietta

Queen Calanthe

Dana Méadbh

Dettlaff van der Eretein

Svalblod

Novigrad

King of Beggars

Cleaver

Sigismund Djikstra

Gudrun Bjornsdottir   

Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart   

Whoreson Junior

Iron Judgment

Merchants of Ofir

Year of the Dire Rat

Master Mirror

Grand Master of the Flaming Rose (Jacques de Aldersberg)

Sparrowhawk (Eredin)

Wrath of Brokilon (Eithné)

The Cripple (Harald the Cripple)

Emperor of Nilfgaard (Usurper)

King of Kerack (Viraxas)

Way of the Witcher

Viy

Erland of Larvik

Arnaghad 

Gezras of Leyda

Ivar Evil-Eye

Fallen Rayla

Year of the Great Oak

Stalwart Leadership

Advanced Tactics

Price of Power

She Who Knows

Duchess of Dol Blathanna

Melusine

Leticia Charbonneau

The Witchfinder

Vilgeforz

Year of The Cursed Toad

Vial of Forbidden Knowledge

Mysterious Puzzle Box

Renfri

Eltibald

Boholt

Sove & Ulula

Dagon

Svalblod Bear

Part 2

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

NPC Wednesday: Svanringe Tuirseach

A minor character that has a high position in Skellige. The firstborn and only child of the late King Bran, heir of Clan Tuirseach, which is the same clan Eist from the books came from. Not many thought he is capable of great things. Thought him a puppet to Birna Brans' strings. Yet, he showed his quality by exposing Birnas' schemes in front of the jarls, choosing either exile or death.

I didn't pursue his path to kinghood in any of my gameplays for tactical reasons: I needed some An Craites in the defense of Kaer Morhen.

Photo from my PS4 gameplay with PS enhancements.

[avatarskywalker78]

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher) & Original Female Character(s), Jaskier ︱Dandelion & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) & Original Female Character(s), Eist Tuirseach & Original Female Character(s), Cirilla Fiona Elen Rhiannon & Original Female Characters

Characters: OC: Áine an Tordarroch, Eskel (The Witcher), Jaskier ︱Dandelion, OC: Ksenia, Eist Tuirseach, Calanthe Fiona Rhiannon, Cirilla Fiona Elen Rhiannon, Pavetta (The Witcher), Crach an Craite, Original Characters, Original Animal Character(s), Duny (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Male-Female Friendship, Female Friendship, Non-Chronological, Families of Choice, The Skellige Isles (The Witcher), Fate & Destiny, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Insecure Eskel (The Witcher), Immortal Jaskier ︱Dandelion, Human Jaskier ︱Dandelion, This never gets explained, Also he's unaware for a while, Season/Series 01, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Developing Friendships, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Book-Canon Eskel, POV Multiple, Áine looking at Eskel like 'is anyone going to befriend him' and not waiting for an answer, Áine befriends three immortals and wonders how this happened, Tags May Change

Series: the warrior, the witcher, the firebird and the bard

Summary: When Áine an Tordarroch starts travelling to the Continent, she doesn't expect to make any friends at all - least of all a Witcher and two bards - and for their part none of them had ever had a friend quite like her. A tale of four very different people across the years, and the growing friendship that binds them together.

[tiffanyachings]

you can think of me when you’re heaving on the ground

the witcher, calanthe x eist, 4k, chapter 1/3

“Queen Calanthe is a -” he drowns a sigh in another deep sip of ale, “ah, well, she’s quite a character, to put it one way.” Or; Calanthe makes waves big enough to earn her a diplomatic visit to Skellige, and Eist falls for her in more ways than one.

(read on ao3)

[piceuscelus]

t4t ciri/cerys, cerys is so determined to seduce ciri she doesn't realize how easy it's going to be (idk if you wanted, like, trans SPECIFIC prompts vs just prompts with trans characters? i do very much envision this as trans girls having slutty crushes on each other and being endearingly awkward about it bc maybe people haven't responded well to them in the past, or maybe ciri doesn't realize cerys is also trans? but also just a simple cute blushy t4t fuckfest would be great lol)

(i will send another, trashier prompt next)

hi i know this prompt was Forever Ago but i did NOT forget it

it just fuckin Refused To Go

but it went! finally! and now it's here! and it's even below my tumblr post limit! (it admittedly might not be exactly to the prompt. but)

it'll be going up on ao3 like, immediately after this ask posts in case anyone is terribly concerned about content tags but this one is Extremely Tame and soft

trans woman Ciri / nonbinary Cerys

It’s a pity, Ciri thinks, that she doesn’t make it back to the Isles very often. Of course, she knows perfectly well why she doesn’t – she rules both Nilfgaard and Cintra, and thus most of the southern half of the Continent. She’s entirely too busy to be galavanting off to Skellige without a purpose – her court will barely allow her the occasional Witchering break, and they only do that begrudgingly because if they don’t, she tends to start threatening to skewer diplomats. The likelihood of that stuffy lot agreeing to let her vacation to Skellige for no good reason is slim to none.

There is the upside, though, that she never has to bother with a week-long boat trip unless she has a hankering for being sea sick.

When she lands on solid ground, it’s bright and sunny and frigidly cold. She takes a deep breath and just revels in it for a moment, even as she starts to shiver, taking in the familiar smells and sounds. 

Of course, as soon as someone notices her standing there in the courtyard, a commotion starts up.

She sighs, but tolerates the sudden influx of guards and their squires rushing over to investigate, and then, once they’ve assured themselves that she’s a known guest, if an unexpected one, the addition of half a dozen maids that arrive to fuss. All of them are bowing so low they may as well be kneeling – it would be faster and require less stumbling, at least – and stammering as they try to address her with an amount and type of formality that’s always been a bit foreign on the Isles.

When she can finally get a word in edgewise, she cuts straight to the chase. “Yes, thank you, where is Queen Cerys?”

One of the guards answers. “Her Majesty is with the jarls, out on the cliffs.”

Ciri raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

“It’s a tradition, Your Imperial Majesty,” another guard says, the capital letters and his unfamiliarity with her title obvious in the stilted, slow way he speaks. “A…rebirth, of sorts, for the new year. All of the jarls, the druids, and the Queen jump into the sea to be cleansed.”

“And several others, for the fun of it,” one of the squires adds, sounding almost bemused, as if he doesn’t quite understand how the dive could be fun.

Ciri isn’t entirely sure fun is the right word, really – she’d probably use thrill instead. She remembers, now, years and years ago, watching Eist do something similar – but it was in the summer, when the cold waters were a fairly refreshing shock, and not the tail end of fall, when falling into the sea could easily become a death sentence if you were stupid or sickly. She’d been allowed to jump then, too, though only into the shallows and not off the cliffside with the rest (for the sake of her grandmother’s blood pressure).

Then again, the line between the concept of fun and thrill is a thin one, and, well – she’d come to the Isles for fun, hadn’t she?

“Which shore are they on?”

– – – – –

When Ciri finally makes it up the cliff where the local nobility are making like ritual-minded lemmings, Cerys is just beginning to strip down to her underthings in preparation for her own jump. It appears she’s the last of the leaders to go, most of the jarls already soaked and shivering on the beach below.

She keeps her more lurid thoughts to herself, watching Cerys shuck her dress, and makes a split second decision to distract her mind from the gutter. “Aye! Time for a late arrival?”

The spears immediately pointed in her direction aren’t a shock, so she mostly ignores them, just stopping where she’s at and waiting.

“Don’t you lot recognize the damn Empress?” Cerys asks, laughing as everyone sort of sheepishly shuffles their weapons back to where they belong. She looks at Ciri to continue, “And don’t you know better than to barge into a group of Islanders unannounced?”

Ciri laughs, too, but doesn’t bother answering – it’s a rhetorical question, and they all know that really, she’s allowed to barge in wherever she’d like. She gestures to the edge of the cliff. “Well, may I join?”

Cerys also gestures to the cliff, but with an over-exaggerated, fake curtsy. “You may!”

Immediately, there are a handful of damp squires appearing at her side, hands held out, so she strips off and hands her clothes over. She only strips down to the same as Cerys, the single layer of underthings – she doesn’t particularly understand the point of wearing anything for this, but she’s also aware that her penchant for nudity is unusual, and is willing to follow the Queen’s lead.

“Together, then?” Cerys asks, when Ciri steps up to her side. They’re both shivering lightly in the icy breeze wafting in from the waves. “Or would you like the honor alone?”

“You’re the Queen of the Skellige Isles, Cerys, it ought to be your honor,” Ciri says, half-teasing, and Cerys’ eyes sparkle.

“And you’re the Witcher Cirilla of Vengerberg, Lioness of Cintra and Empress of Nilfgaard, The Swallow Bearing the Sun in Her Wings,” Cerys retorts, “and you outrank me by a league. So?”

Ciri rolls her eyes as theatrically as possible at the full title, though she’s privately pleased that Cerys used both of Vengerberg and the informal order of it. “Together, then.”

She offers her hand as she takes a step closer to the cliff’s edge, toes already freezing in the sparse, damp grass. 

Cerys steps up alongside her and threads their fingers together. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, with a little half-curtsy, still a fake one since she’s not wearing a damn dress, and a smirk that belies the formal tone. 

Ciri immediately drops Cerys’ hand just to shove her off the cliff and jump right after her.

– – – – –

By the time they’ve swum back to shore, anyone else who wanted to jump has already done it, and it turns into a race back to the castle before fingers and toes go from numb to dead. All the same, they’re laughing as they finally stumble into the marginally-warmer stone halls, the mood easy and light, chatter and laughter echoing off of the high ceilings. 

It’s only when they’ve made their way to Cerys’ rooms, already prepped and ready with a large, steaming bath, that Ciri realizes she has absolutely no idea where she’s meant to be staying. Or if she’s even welcome. 

Her rank and power do a lot to smooth the way wherever she’d like to go – and her sword and medallion often do what the crown cannot – but she prefers not to use any of them like a cudgel. 

Cerys, though, seems to have the same realization a beat after her.

“I can send someone to make up a room,” she says, “but in the meantime, we could share a bath.” There’s a hint of lechery in the quirk of her lips. “Only if you don’t think that would be too…improper, of course.”

Ciri nearly asks where in the world Cerys picked up the idea that she’s ever given a single fuck about proper, but decides that playing coy is much more fun. “It might be,” she says, slowly. “But….”

She rubs her arms and shivers. It’s a little exaggerated, but certainly not entirely an act – she is cold, clothes still wet and skin a little slimy where the seawater lingers.

“It’s cold, and it’ll take too long to make up another bath for you,” Cerys says, and this time her tone is at least half-serious. “You’ll catch your death, Your Imperial Highness – and I cannot, nor do I want to, imagine the horrors your court would bring down upon me if I allowed it to happen. I’m just a lowly Islander queen, after all.”

The snark is back, with the last part, and Ciri can’t help how she snorts.

“Alright, alright.” She prods Cerys into the room and follows along, closing the door behind them. She catches sight of a door across the room shutting with utmost gentleness, likely a servant who had realized that they were not needed and decided to at least be discreet about their eavesdropping. “I’m sure my honor will survive the blow.”

“Mine certainly won’t, but it’s not as if I had much to begin with,” Cerys retorts, and Ciri chokes on another laugh.

“You know what they say about Skelligers,” she says, trailing off with a wink, and Cerys just raises an eyebrow.

“What, that we’re one good blow away from a fight?”

Ciri giggles. “No, that you’re one good blow to anyone’s honor.”

It clearly takes a second to click, Cerys squinting at her for slightly longer than a typical beat, but Ciri sees the moment it finally dawns, the queen’s eyes going wide before she starts cackling.

“That was awful, Cirilla,” she scolds, but she’s grinning wide and there’s no heat to her voice, just poorly-concealed laughter.

Before Ciri can come up with another witty reply – either about her wonderful wordplay, or the use of her full first name – Cerys is huffing and shaking her head, starting to tug at her own layers. 

She tosses them directly onto the floor with no care as she wriggles free of them, and Ciri starts to do the same, struggling out of the top dress and progressively wetter layers beneath, until she’s reached the last of them, her underthings still soaked and getting slimier by the second. 

She hesitates. As unpleasant as the soggy cotton is, and as thrilled as she usually is to be free of clothes, it’s…. Well. If this were just a bath with a friend, or even just fellow nobility, it wouldn’t be anything to drop her clothes. She’s done it before in springs and bathhouses. 

But this isn’t just another sovereign, or even just a friend. This is…well, it’s Cerys, someone that Ciri can admit (at least in her own head, privately, to herself) she’s been carrying a torch about for…as long as they’ve known one another, probably.

(Definitely.)

Cerys is speaking again, though, as she’s peeling out of the layer just above her underthings, struggling with the fabric as its soaked so much water up from the layer below, and Ciri is distracted from her not-quite spiral about her infatuation. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Cerys says, and Ciri’s stomach drops to the floor in the split second it takes for her to notice the wry quirk to Cerys’ mouth. Before she can relocate her own words, Cerys continues, though this time it’s quieter, more of a mutter. “...then again, s’pose I have no room to speak on that.”

Ciri doesn’t think she was meant to hear that last bit. She’s aware that she should probably pretend she didn’t.

But she’s burningly curious as to what, exactly, that means, so she quirks a brow when Cerys’ eyes next catch hers. “Oh?”

Harmless, directionless flirting is one thing – something they’ve been doing for the same amount of time Ciri’s carried the torch – but that? That sounded like an admission.

Cerys makes a small, short sound, something of a cross between a squeak and a snort, coloring a little. “If I may be crass, Your Imperial Majesty,” she winks, and Ciri feels herself flushing, because this time the title sounds more genuine, even if it’s in a crude way. “You have a truly spectacular pair of tits.”

Ciri snickers, and before she even thinks it all the way through, she’s quipping, “Thank you, Yennefer helped me pick them out when I got tired of being shaped wrong.”

What she’s said sinks in just a second too late, and she sucks in a breath, biting her cheek against trying to over explain. It’s possible Cerys will misunderstand that – think it has to do with self-esteem, and not anything to do with the confused whispers about wasn’t the heir to Cintra a boy? – but if she opens her mouth again, she could give the truth away.

But Cerys’ mouth drops open to mirror how tightly Ciri’s gritting her teeth, and she stutters, “You were – ” before she’s squeaking and putting a hand over her mouth. 

They stand frozen, just staring at one another, for a long moment. 

Ciri tries to find her voice, tries to come up with something to say – to brush it off, or to admit the truth, or maybe a secret third option she hasn’t come up with yet. She doesn’t know, but the silence is stretching out longer and longer, and she feels like there are ants crawling along the back of her neck.

Despite all her frantic thoughts, Cerys beats her to breaking it. “Something we almost have in common, then,” she says, and finishes peeling out of her underclothes, revealing her own chest – perfectly flat, nothing but solid muscle and pink-white scars cupping the shape of her pectorals. “Mousesack helped me pick mine when I got tired of the same.”

And the scars are – obvious, really, Cerys is hardly the first person Ciri has met with them, but it takes until she speaks for it to really click, and then – and then she’s laughing, caught somewhere between fierce relief and flustered sheepishness. 

“Good to know we have that in common?” she asks, voice shifting down a little, like it hasn’t since she was thirteen and Yennefer started teaching her how to pitch it higher, and she hopes that Cerys understands her meaning – that she means a bit more than just picking out surgi-magical modifications to their chests. 

She expects that Cerys will laugh, probably – that she’ll poke fun at Ciri, almost certainly. What she doesn’t expect, in any way, is for Cerys to step into her space, reaching out and cupping one roughened palm around the nape of her neck to yank her even closer.

“I’m pretty sure it’s more than that,” she murmurs, and then her mouth is ghosting over Ciri’s, the distant suggestion of a kiss.

Like hell is she going to turn that down.

They’re still shivering finely from the cold and wet, Ciri’s underthings uncomfortably slimy between them – really, it’s atrocious how seawater just never actually seems to dry, just turns to slime and then…crusts – but none of that really matters, not in the face of the kiss.

The kiss, which is going quickly from chaste and almost innocent to something decidedly more hungry, Cerys’ fingers finding  their way into Ciri’s hair, her other hand creeping around her waist and then up to cup her ribs. Ciri, for her part, gets her hands on Cerys’ waist first, and then shifts them to the lower curve of her spine and the place between her shoulderblades as they press closer. 

When they finally break apart they’re both panting, and the way Cerys’ fingers are curling around the curve of Ciri’s skull, a rough, callused thumb rasping back and forth just under her ear, has Ciri shivering for reasons entirely unrelated to the damp.

She doesn’t know if Cerys misreads the trembling, or if maybe she understands and simply makes an unrelated decision, but without a word she’s taking a step back, pulling Ciri gently toward the bath. The way she tugs at Ciri’s remaining clothes, though, is significantly less gentle. 

It’s a little hard to get naked, considering that they both refuse to step away from another with equal fervor, but between four hands they manage. They also succeed – somehow – in clambering their way into the bath without injury.

Through another kiss, they end up settled on a very convenient seat along the edge of the ridiculously large tub, Ciri on the ledge and Cerys perched in her lap. The position leaves their bottom halves in quite close contact for the first time, and before Ciri can even start to – explain? apologize? she’s not entirely sure – Cerys is humming, a distinctly pleased little sound, and settling her weight more firmly in Ciri’s lap. 

“Hello there,” she says, and rolls her hips, pinning Ciri’s half-hard cock properly between them. “I’d ask about pockets, but all things considered, I think I can just assume you’re happy to see me.”

Ciri wants to say something in response to that – even if it’s just to cry hypocrisy about Cerys’ early rebuke of Ciri’s earlier pun – but all that comes out is a thin, reedy little moan. 

It makes Cerys laugh, but it’s a breathy sound, cut off when she presses their mouths together again, so Ciri isn’t too terribly offended.

She’s usually more put together, she swears she is, but, well. This torch has been burning for a little less than most of her life, for fucks’ sake. 

While they kiss, Cerys starts to move, rocking her hips to grind them together, and both of them end up making broken, breathless little noises into each others’ mouths. The water intensifies the friction, washing away the slick either of them could produce well before it’s of any use, but it also makes the movements easier, smoothing out the jerkiness where both of them are startling to tremble.

Gods above, Ciri should not be this close because of a handful of kisses and a pretty queen in her lap. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s been pining for a ridiculous length of time, or that she’s not had much time for anyone except her own hand lately, or maybe that Cerys really is just that incredible. Whatever it is, she absolutely refuses to embarrass herself so thoroughly, at least this first time.

It takes entirely too much willpower, but she gets her hands on Cerys’ hips, stopping the rocking movement and splashing water over the edges of the tub with the sudden interruption to the water’s motion. Cerys makes a little sound, whiny and petulant, and Ciri is halfway through a choked sort of coo at how cute that was when Cerys’ eyes snap open.

“Sorry, was that – ”

Ciri feels a little bad when pressing her fingers over Cerys’ lips apparently gets some bathwater in her mouth, but she doesn’t need an apology and doesn’t want to entertain it. “I’m fine,” she assures. “I just – have a better idea.”

At that, the scrunched combination of shock and concern on Cerys’ face smooths out, replaced instead by obvious curiosity. Her eyes are bright and her lips are a little swollen from their kisses, and Ciri has to resist the urge to lean forward and nip at them, at least for now. Instead, she starts prodding Cerys off of her lap, and giggles when Cerys’ expression once again shifts in a heartbeat, turning to a small pout even as she follows the silent direction and finds her own feet.

Ciri can’t resist that, not entirely, so she leans forward to kiss the corner of the pout as she also stands from the bench. Cerys turns her head and turns it into a real kiss, because of course she does, and Ciri is weak, so she allows it for a long moment.

“C’mon,” she finally says, when they have to pull apart for air, and before Cerys can complain – or catch her in another kiss – she slips behind her and gently nudges her forward again.

She tries to turn at first, clearly trying to sit, but Ciri gets her arms around her waist and keeps her facing forward. She nuzzles against Cerys’ ear and whispers, “Like this,” before guiding her forward again, until her knees are pressed to the bench. 

From there, she drags her hands back down to Cerys’ hips, then her thighs, coaxing her to keep going forward, until she’s kneeling on the ledge. That’s when she seems to get the idea, suddenly tugging out of Ciri’s grip to scoot forward and bend at the waist, bracing her palms against the thick edge of the tub.

“Yeah, perfect,” Ciri murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss between Cerys’ shoulderblades, fingers finding the stretched smoothness of the scars on her chest. She kisses down Cerys’ spine, hands following the same path but down her front, and when she’s reached where her back starts to curve into ass, Ciri shifts her weight and drops into a low crouch.

She uses her hands, curled around the very tops of Cerys’ thighs, to shift her hips up a little more, just enough to lift her cunt properly above the water.

Cerys shivers and whines, soft and breathless, and Ciri presses a kiss to where the waterline is lapping at the back of her thigh.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cerys is almost panting. When Ciri looks up – she has to lean a little to the side, to see more than the curve of Cerys’ ass and spine – Cerys is turned to look over her shoulder, eyes gone wide and dark.

She keeps their gazes locked as she slowly trails her fingers up and to the side, along the cut of Cerys’ hipbone, and then in and down, until she’s petting over the soft curls just above her slit. Cerys’ lashes flutter, mouth dropping open for the space of a panting breath before she’s sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to bite at it. 

She whines when Ciri doesn’t keep going, squirming a little, hips rolling forward into Ciri’s hand. Ciri chuckles and turns her head to kiss along the curve of her ass and back down to the back of her thigh.

“Can I?” she asks, dragging her fingers further down, almost to Cerys’ clit but not quite there yet. Already, she can feel the heat – the difference between the water and Cerys’ body, the apex of her thighs, much warmer where she’s all swollen.

Cerys whines and bucks her hips, stammering out a, “P-please.”

Ciri lets the movement do what it intended to do, since she asked so nicely, fingers slipping over Cerys’ clit. The friction of it is a little rough with nothing but water between them yet, but Cerys just whines and bucks again, so Ciri keeps going, until Cerys has made a proper mess of herself and the touch is slick and wet.

“Good,” Ciri murmurs, mostly thoughtless, and traces an intentional, firm circle around Cerys’ clit at the same time she mouths along the edge of her outer labia, tongue flickering barely over where she’s wet and fluttering. Those touches earn her another whine, more desperate this time, as Cerys leans harder against her braced arms just so she can raise her hips and press back into the tease of Ciri’s mouth. “Yeah, fuck, so good.”

“C-Ciri, please,” Cerys breathes. 

Ciri curses and leans further forward, flattening her tongue over the slick mess built between Cerys’ thighs. The sound Cerys makes in response could be reasonably called a shout, if it weren’t so pitchy and breathless, and Ciri grins but doesn’t bother pulling back. When she teases her tongue at Cerys’ entrance, she gets another almost-shout, and when she presses in, the sound turns into a low, warbling little mewl.

Her cock throbs where it’s bobbing in the water, and she imagines the two of them are probably going to sully it enough that a brand new bath is needed, but that’s the only real thought she spares for it.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” Cerys finally gasps, after Ciri has spent a few minutes pressing her tongue just inside the clutch of her entrance and then pulling back out to trace her folds before doing it again. 

She hasn’t even really been meaning to tease – she’s just…taken with the taste of Cerys, with feeling her twitch and flutter. Entirely too taken to be paying much attention to the passage of seconds – or to keep moving her fingers, she realizes. The pleas, though, bring her right back, and she hums into Cerys’ heat before she’s pressing closer, rubbing at Cerys’ clit again as she presses her tongue as deep as she can get it. 

Cerys squeals, hips jerking, and Ciri reconsiders her original intention to pull back and say something filthy. Instead, she stays right where she is, shifting in her crouch just to relieve some pressure on her ankles, and tongue-fucks Cerys until the she’s starting to shake and babble.

“Fuck, fuck, you – ah, ah – oh gods, Ciri – ”

Whenever Cerys makes a new noise or starts shaking harder, Ciri follows that as if it were explicit directions, until Cerys is no longer babbling, she’s just making scattered noise, entirely breathless. She’s so hard she could use her cock as a hammer, but all she can really focus on is how sweet Cerys’ cunt is, all of the pretty noises and trembling that she’s working out of her with just her hand and tongue. It’s – heady, and hotter than it has any right to be, and so much more than she’d ever even dared dream about, at least consciously. 

Cerys can make jokes-that-aren’t about how far Ciri outranks her all she wants, but in Ciri’s opinion, Cerys is so far out of her league that it balances them right back out. She’s fairly certain Cerys would take offense to that, though, and not at all for her own sake, so Ciri fully plans to keep that as a thought to herself. 

She’s almost worried, for a split second, when Cerys’ suddenly goes tripwire-taut, but then her mouth is suddenly flooded with slick and she understands. She groans, but doesn’t let up on her ministrations, working Cerys through the peak of the pleasure and out to quivering on the other side.

“Ciri, Ciri, fuck, oh my gods – ”

She doesn’t stop until Cerys fumbles a hand back and catches at her hair. The feeble tapping at her head is, by itself, ineffectual in making her stop, but she doesn’t want this to tip into the bad kind of overstimulation, so she follows the silent direction and pulls back. 

She intends to ask something cheeky about if that was good, but before she can manage more than just the breath in, Cerys is leaning up and turning, the hand still sort of limp against Ciri’s head finding its way into her hair just to tug slightly. 

“Please get up here and fuck me,” Cerys pants, tugging at her hair again, and Ciri certainly isn’t going to say no.

It’s not the first time she’s experienced the sensation of her dick overtaking her brain, but she thinks it might be the most intense instance of it.

“Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, and lets go of Cerys just long enough to brace on the side of the tub and the ledge so she can lever herself back to standing. She ignores the tingling in her legs – it’s not bad enough she’ll topple, so it doesn’t matter – and instead bends to press along Cerys’ back, one arm slipping around her waist while the other hand goes to her throat. She nudges at Cerys’ jaw with her fingers until she turns properly and Ciri can kiss her again.

She has to take her hand away to reach down and guide her cock, but Cerys barely seems to notice, at least until Ciri is nudging up against her entrance.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she gasps, head dropping back down as her knuckles go white around the edge of the tub. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Ciri murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of Cerys’ throat in absence of her mouth.

It only takes some more minute shifting, using her other hand to steady Cerys’ hips as she guides herself with the one around her cock, and she’s slipping in. They both make high, shocky little sounds, and Ciri bites at Cerys’ shoulder as her hips jerk.

She wants to go slow, to check in, but Cerys is letting go of the edge of the tub to throw her arm back, fingernails digging into Ciri’s hip when her hand finally finds it, and she doesn’t have much choice with the way she’s yanked, unless she wants to send the both of them tumbling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor. 

“Fuck me,” Cerys repeats, and Ciri makes a wordless sound of agreement before she’s doing just that.

[bookcalanthedaily]

“ [Grandfather] was clever, too. He sailed the seas, saw everything, even a narwhal and sea serpent, and I bet he also saw many an analogy. “ Eist telling Ciri stories from his voyages at sea.

[isabellehemlock]

WIP Tag Game

I was tagged by the phenomenal @astrabear to share the first lines of my WIP’s - because as she said, “because you're active in multiple fandoms and I want to know what you're up to.”

I seperated them by a few categories, but first, for anyone else who might like to play along: @asunlovingde @fablesdelightme @prouvaireafterdark @peri-helia @spacewitchqueen (yes this is me shamelessly trying to get a sneak peek at the Rockstar AU <<;) - but of course, as always, no pressure implied <3

My current already posted WIP’s

Mark of Cain (almost done!) - my Cult AU TOG JoexNicky fic that was technically supposed to be done in March, and then holy heck several illnesses and my poor mom’s health, and etc etc I’m that far behind, but almost ready for the next chapter update, and just a few more to go.  Fingers crossed mid July now!

Nicky felt the rush of blood around his ears drown out the horrible gurgling sounds beside him, yet still his eyes were heavy, half hooded, as he swayed a little from the adrenaline seeping out of him.  His bent legs cramped beneath him, trying to signal that they needed relief from the seated pose he was in, but no internal message could reach him now.  He blinked at the dull ache from his lower half, felt the warmth of the blood that had sprayed onto his bare side dry into sticky streaks.  But he had been covered in so much worse from Cain in the past - what was a little blood in comparison?

Pretty Ballads Hide Bastard Truths - a Witcher prequel featuring Calanthe x Eist (hasn’t been updated in fourteen months, but not abandoned, promise!  Just a lot of life and fandom events in between, whoops!  But I genuinely hope to finish it mid summer)

The island of Hindarsfjall was Eist’s favorite.

Though it was the smallest in the archipelago of Skellige, it was the most vibrant one this time of year, with thick foliage and overgrown vegetation.  The perfect place for a teenage boy to explore and roam in the dense, thick, cluster of trees that kept the worst of the summer heat off of his pale skin.

But it was the fjord, not far from the temple of the Great Mother, Freya, that once again beckoned Eist to the jagged edge on the northern side.  It formed the best jumping off point into the warm spring below, and though bottles of the healing waters were given to visitors (in exchange for a small donation to the temple), a young man in his fourteenth summer found it perfect for blowing off steam.

My soon to be posted WIP’s

“What a great start to our partnership” - DantexAimes (Fast X) (I had genuinely meant for this to get written over the weekend, whoops, but it has been started at least - fully outlined, too!  Special shout out to both @cosima-nova & @you-came-back for their lovely feedback and excitement). 

Dante slipped on the gun strap over his stiff shoulders, the morning workout had left his muscles feeling a bit sore, but it kept him primed for the kind of jobs his father needed him for - and frankly, that alone was worth some of the suffering.  It just felt good to be needed, to be acknowledged, in any capacity, and if that required a little pain along the way, then so be it.

Fandom Event related

“Untitled FTH fic” - Steddyhands - okrrr the only reason I haven’t started writing this one yet (because it’s already outlined, has some dialogue, and I’ve legit been editing scenes in my dreams lol), is because I just know that once I start, I won’t stop, and I’m equally desperate to get one long fic done before diving into another one but SOON, so soon!!  This one is gonna pour out of me the second I start and I can’t wait to deliver it for my lovely bidder and friend @vexbatch - expected upload date: July

@iwtvbigbang x3 - not only have I had the privilege of organizing this with two other mods, but I’m fortunate enough to have snagged three authors and am excited to make some custom art for them soon <3 - posting dates: October

OFMD RBB x2 - I made two pieces, and two authors selected one of each and I even ended up betaing one of them and I cannot wait to share the pieces and the stories!  I ended up getting so inspired by the some scenes shared by a second that I ended drawing another piece, too lol - posting dates: June & July

Steddie BB x2 - I just got paired in this one, and am so excited to share that I’ll be making some sweet summertime love art, as well as an Anastasia AU piece (I feel giddy about it!!) - posting dates: October-December

IWTV Art Coven group project - just wrapped the tarot, and working on the calendar next - proceeds go to charity - posting dates: November

Alsoplusalso - my first comic is coming in a few weeks (but to keep it a surprise for the giftee I can’t say more atm)

ANNNND - launching an interest check in October for an IWTV Zine that myself and the IWTV BB mods will be running (super stoked!)  All proceeds go to charity as well 

But other than that, same ol’ same ol’ lol

[witcherscreenshotsdump]

Eist tuirseach model comissioned by @bookcalanthedaily

[astrid-sama]

The dances aren't that bad after all (Calanthe x fem reader)

(Il post c'è anche in Italiano sul mio profilo)

(English is not my first language, sorry for the mistaken)

<<So stay next to me, evil look and pretend to be mute nobody has to know who you are >> Gerald and I are at the royal palace of Cintra to protect Jaskier from the horned royals. He forced us to dress like sad silk merchants by saying it was best to keep a "low profile".

<< Gerald and T / N the intrepid witchers >> suddenly all the guests of the banquet turn to look at us.

<<Fuck>> apparently Jaskier's plan didn't go well.

<<How are you not seen since the times of the plague >>

<< Good times lot of mousesack >>

<<I missed your colorful cynicism, I was afraid of a boring evening but with you two here all is not lost >> sack of mouse then turned to me << Y / N because you and Gerald are dressed like sad traders of silk? >> instead of answering I turn to look at Jaskier and from the expression on his face I guess he understood why we are here.

<< Come with me I want to show you something >> so the three of us walk among the tables full of suitors.

<< I have been a councilor at the Court of Skellige for years, a land with difficult borders but with a tender heart, like me >>

<<So it's an old and grumpy kingdom >> says Gerald making a rat-bag smile.

<< How long will all this last the nobility is better to take it in small doses >>

<< I'm sorry for you T / N but do not hope to leave before dawn the suitors will contend for Pavetta's hand all night, a royal wedding is highly coveted, who would not want to become the king of the most powerful kingdom in the region> > says sack of mouse while taking a sip of beer.

<<So which of these privileged balls did you cheat? >> I asked while drinking a beer trying to change the subject.

<<Come with me I'll show you something >> he says walking between the tables until he gets near a table where a man looking like a pig eats as if he hasn't seen food for days.

<< I would never have believed it but that drunkard down there - he said pointing to the man in front of us - will marry Pavetta the lioness has already planned everything with the uncle of the boy Eist of Skellige, no one would dare to hinder such a powerful alliance> > he said as he watched a nobleman turn a dagger in his hands.

<< Skilled with blades and skilled with women >>

<<All appearance, Queen Calanthe has refused his proposal three times, and useless to continue to try the lioness is not made to stay in the shadow of a husband >> while a lot of mouse was talking I realized how a man ( surely the husband of one of the women Jaskier slept with) was cornering Jaskier, I pointed this out to Gerald and together we headed to rescue Jaskier.

<<Forgive me sir it always happens that Jaskier is mistaken for a cowardly rascal but I assure you that it is not so, Y / N can you explain? >> Gerald says turning to me, obviously he wants me to invent something.

<<You are right, sir it is known that as a child he was hit in the balls by a bull >>

Jaskier nods and the man apologizes before leaving.

<< But thank you very much first attract all the attention and then ruin my reputation at court >> says Jaskier offended.

<< We saved you, now try not to get stabbed before dawn >>

Suddenly the trumpets start to sound and a man announces the return of Queen Calanthe, when I turn to look I find myself in front of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she is in armor with untidy hair covered in blood from head to toe , a real lioness is wild and beautiful.

<<Beer>> shouts the queen, then apologizes for the delay saying that she had to remind the rebels who is in charge, thus making all the men applaud.

I'm still watching her as she walks to the table where her daughter is, Gerald notices it and gives me a knowing smile, obviously he knows about my preference for women.

<<You did not kill a gnat let alone a manticore >>

<<I killed manticore twice as big as you >> two nobles were arguing, each of them claimed to have killed a manticore, which obviously neither of them had done.

The discussion had become so intense that even the queen joined in << There are famous guests tonight maybe they will be able to tell us which of the two lords is telling the truth >> all turned towards us waiting for one of the two to speak.

. <<Neither>> I said and Gerald nodded in agreement.

<< Are you calling us liars? It is obvious that the butchers of Blaviken are lying >> said one of the lords.

<<Maybe they could have met some sub species of manticore >> Gerald adds after seeing the important look that Jaskier gave him. The queen laughed.

<< Maybe our guests can tell us how they slaughtered the elves at the edge of the world >>

<<In reality, Her Highness, we have not killed any elves, on the contrary we were almost to be killed >> Gerald said as the crowd began to laugh at us << At least when their sword has reached our throat we are not there below, I hope it would have been like that for you too, but I doubt it >> I added.

<<Any man and woman willing to admit their failures will make tonight's conversations more interesting, come witcher sit next to me I'm going to change >> said the queen.

<<These damn clothes I'd rather wear my armor >>

Calanthe said as she touched her corset-tight stomach.

<< Me too, and Gerald agrees too >> I replied.

<< In fact, what are two witchers doing at my daughter's engagement party dressed as >>

<< like sad silk merchants >> Gerald said finishing the sentence started by the queen.

<<We protect the bard from the vengeful real horned >> I replied.

<<A heap of idiots, I am glad of your presence will be useful to me, tonight surely some blood will be shed >>

<<I will not waste any more breath, we are not here as a personal guard >> Gerald said taking a sip of beer.

<<You have been hired by the bard >>

<<We are simply doing a favor to a friend Highness >> I replied while she rolled her eyes.

<< I'm just saying that in case all hell breaks loose, I count on you to eliminate some subjects that could be in the way >>

<< Neither I nor Gerald will help you >>

<< As a queen I could force you to do it >>

<<If we were your subjects but we are not >> the queen turns to look at me obviously struck by what I said.

<< I could torment you and force you to obey >>

<<I'm sorry height but the torture does not have much effect on those like us >> the queen smiled, apparently she liked me.

During the party Calanthe and I kept talking and I could have sworn I saw the lust in her eyes as the conversations went on.

Suddenly she got up and started walking towards the exit of the hall, she touched my shoulder lightly as if inviting me to follow her, I waited a little to avoid arousing suspicion and then followed her.

I had only taken a few steps when I was pushed against the corridor wall with Calanthe's lips above mine, suddenly her hands were on my body, I gasped in surprise and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth. When we separated we were both breathing hard, Calanthe was looking at me with a hungry look practically undressing me with her eyes.

<<We should move this in more private >> she said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me into her bedroom.

Now I am in Calanthe's bed my head on her chest, our bodies full of bites, hickeys and scratches.

There is no doubt it was definitely the best night of my life.

<<We should go back to the party before anyone suspects something >> Calanthe says as he runs his fingers through my hair, I nod and get up to put my clothes back on.

I was about to leave when Calanthe grabs me <<I'll wait in my rooms as soon as the party is over >> I nodded with a smile on mine lips, I can't wait for the party to end.

[windflowerofskellige]

cerys for the character bingo!

So my URL is not for nothing for a while I used to be a skellige scholar! Because of that I actually have so many thoughts about Cerys and Hjalmar and Crach and Eist and the rest of skellige as a whole my first oc was even from skellige that's how obsessed I was!! Cerys has a special place in my heart!