#purring witchers

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring

Jaskier's fist few years traveling with Geralt were full of suprises. He learned that so much of what everyone said about Witchers was wrong.

Witchers were supposed to be monsters that were to be feared. Cold-hearted, emotionless, Witchers only cared about coin and had no friends. They supposedly ate raw meat. And small children.

After learning so much about Witchers, and who they truly were, Jaskier worked to change how society viewed them. People slowly started to warm up to Witchers afterwards. Witchers weren't as scary anymore, h*ll they were practically human!

Even after Jaskier thought he'd learned every thing there was to learn about Witchers, Geralt continued to surprise him.

Jaskier found out something about Witchers that no human knew about.

They purred.

The first time Jaskier heard it, they had been at an Inn. Geralt had been boiling himself in the bath after a long hunt, and he'd been so relaxed. He'd started purring quietly. It had only been for a few seconds before he caught himslef, but Jaskier had already noticed.

Geralt had steeled himself for the teasing laughter that was sure to come, but Jaskier had done no such thing.

Is that A Witcher Thing, or is it A Geralt Thing?

The question had caught him off guard. There was no hint of teasing or ridicule in Jaskier's voice, just genuine curiosity.

Geralt had sighed and reluctantly admitted that it was A Witcher Thing. And that Jaskier had better not ever write a song about it, on pain of death.

Jaskier had very sincerely assured him that he would never do such a thing. And just to make certain that Geralt knew he was serious, he performed the most ancient, most absolute and unbreakable ritual of deal-making: he Pinky Swore.

After that, Jaskier began to pay more attention to the sounds Geralt made, and he began to notice the purring. He felt more than touched that Geralt seemed to be relaxing around him more, getting comfortable enough with him to the point where he stopped trying to hide his purring. He got to the point where he felt safe enough around the bard that he wasn't afraid to show him that vulnerablitly.

Geralt's Happy purr was soft and steady, a gentle, quiet percolating hum. It usually occurred when Geralt was relaxed. Jaskier found out he could initiate a Happy purr by scratching Geralt's cheeks or chin. Of course Jaskier was always careful to never do it where anyone else could see. Mostly because Geralt had been p*ssed the first time he'd done it, and threatened to beat his a** if he ever did it in public.

Jaskier discovered that Geralt didn't just purr when he was happy or content, and that the purrs were different, depending on the situation.

He noticed that Geralt would purr as a way to soothe himself, like when he was in a social setting and he started getting uncomfortable.

The Distressed purr was deep and rolling. Before Jaskier had known it was a purr, he, like other humans, had just assumed Geralt was growling in annoyance. Geralt could usually suppress the urge to anxious purr until he got back to camp, or an Inn, where he could purr until he felt better.

Geralt also purred when he was injured, or ill. Many times Geralt had returned from a hunt wounded or with toxicity, purring after Jaskier had done what he could for his wounds or given him the appropriate potions.

The Hurt/Sick purr was louder than his other purrs, and had a frantic, thrumming quality to it, as if here were desperately trying to soothe himself, or distract himself from the pain. Jaskier learned to judge how much pain Geralt was in (or how poorly he felt) from how loud the purr was. He used the volume of the purr to monitor his pain level as he recovered. Jaskier knew when he was starting to feel better when that thrumming purr got less loud.

Jaskier noticed that Geralt had a variation of the Hurt/Sick purr. It was a queiter, steadier purr. It was a purr that Jaskier realized Geralt only used on him. If Jaskier was injured or sick, Geralt would cuddle up to him and use that specific purr.

There was something about the particular vibration and sound that just relaxed Jaskier and made him feel better. He noticed that he seemed to recover faster than he usually did. For that reason, he called it the Healing purr. He often wondered if Geralt's Hurt/Sick purr was a Healing purr tuned to a Witcher's body.

It was an interesting theory that he would jot down many notes and observations about. He eventually became an expert of sorts, on Geralt's purrs. He could determine Geralt's levels of happiness, contentment, distress, etc. as easily as he could interpret his grunts and 'hmm's.

And it annoyed the f**k out of Geralt. But that was okay. If he got too annoyed, all Jaskier had to do was break out the chin and cheek skritches.

[zkretchy]

Me: alright i’ll just do the lines and continue the colouring tomorrow Also me not doing that:

[roughentumble]

thinking about Jaskier and Geralt getting together and Jaskier's constantly trying to be enticing, pulling Geralt into bed or to the side of the road for a fuck whenever he can, because he's so used to having to do that to keep his partners interested bc most of his previous relationships, even when genuinely romantic, have been very sexually focused and that kind of almost hypersexuality has been expected of him

meanwhile Geralt, who admittedly doesn't have a problem with the amount of sex they're having, is just like "hey, you wanna just cuddle tonight? We don't have to do anything else, I just wanna hold you"

WAH 😭💕

[absolutequeertrash]

it’s has taken me over 100 hours of playing the witcher 3 to realize the purring sound that plays when on horseback is coming from geralt and not roach

[arctickat2400]

Tummy Love ∞ Henry Cavill

Soft!Henry Cavill x Reader (I say soft, but my Henry is always soft)

Word Count: 569

A/N: A small little fluffy something based on another something I found a while ago; possibly the shortest amount I have ever written (usually goes between 2k - 3k), but really it’s just a short imagine of sorts ‘cause I was itching to write something but didn’t know what. (Sorry for my repetitiveness throughout)

* * * *

It had been a long week and you and Henry finally had the time to relax and spend some quality time together. That meant cozying up on the couch while watching a show, more specifically The Witcher. It was more you watching it than Henry, lying back against the couch cushions, your legs stretched out in front of you (imagine laying on an L-shaped couch) as he laid his head on your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. You brushed your fingers through his hair, your other hand placed on his shirtless waist, and you swear you could feel him pur, he was so at peace as you rub your thumb over his forehead. 

You felt something against your stomach, then, and you looked down to see Henry rubbing his nose against your skin, his hands on either side of your waist. You were always a bit insecure about your body, especially your fluffy stomach, but Henry adored the softness of your tummy. He would always take any and every chance he could get to rub or kiss your belly. It was quite endearing, and you loved him all the more for how loved he made you feel. 

Henry, after pulling down the waistband of your underwear, placed a sweet kiss right below your belly button. A little laugh escapes your lips, your cheeks flush at the affection as you continue to caress his hair. “What was that for?” You questioned him, your heart melting. 

“Tummy,” Is all Henry says as he continues to rub his nose over your soft skin. He was so nonchalant in his answer like you would know what he was talking about just by that one word.

You just smile. “What about it?” Henry looks up at you, his hands never leaving your sides, his thumbs brushing over your belly. He’s so stunned at how gorgeous you are, how he’s able to make you blush with the smallest, simplest of gestures, how your smile can light up the darkest of days. 

“Your tummy’s just too adorable,” Henry murmured, pressing his lips back against your belly. He thought he'd made it obvious by now. He’s shown you how much he loves what you believe to be flaws since the start of your relationship, even before you started dating, and that was two years ago. He’s shown you how much he loves your tummy, and how all he wants to do is rub and kiss it, place little love bites here and there to make you laugh, all because of how much he loves your darling tummy. 

“You… like my tummy?” You ask hesitantly, your cheeks flushing a deeper red than before. You can’t imagine feeling more loved than when Henry looks at you the way he is now, the only emotions you see are love and adoration. 

“I love your tummy… so much,” he says into your belly before placing several more kisses around your belly, transforming you into a giggly mess. 

“But not as much as I love you,” Henry says when you finally calm down from your high. He sits up to take your head in his hands, looking into your eyes with the most passionate love he could formulate, before pressing his lips to yours, and you could feel every ounce of love this precious man felt for you. You knew at that moment that Henry’s love for you would last forever. 

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"Whatcha doing, bard?"

Jaskier startled slightly when Aiden plopped down beside him next to the fire, eyes bright with the beginnings of drunkenness as he offered the wine he was holding. Jaskier took a swig straight from the bottle, choking a little in surprise. After the roughness of the various homebrews and the wines that had been aging in the cellar for possible decades it was sweeter than he expected. Definitely Southern.

"Just thinking. You?"

The Cat let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against Jaskier, "Lambert's ignoring me and it's making me sad."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure he's not."

"Oh?" Aiden cocked an eyebrow before taking a deep inhale, "Hey, Lambert!" He called over to where Lambert was deep in conversation with his brothers (and had been all night). "I'm not wearing any underthings and I fingered myself stupid while thinking of you earlier!"

"Yeah, that's fine Kitten." Lambert answered with a dismissive wave of his hand without even looking over as if Aiden had just told him that he was going to go grab more booze.

Aiden smirked at Jaskier as if to say 'see?', "And from the look on your face you know exactly what I'm talking about, no?"

Now it was Jaskier's turn to fill his lungs, "Oh Geralt!" He singsonged, "I just spilled sweet dessert wine all over my naked body. Want to help me get cleaned up? I'm so sticky and messy!"

Geralt gave one of his classic, non-committal grunts in response.

"Oh, sweet Gods." Jaskier took another angry mouthful before thrusting the bottle into Aiden's chest, ignoring the Witchers chuckle, "I understand he wants to spend time with his brothers but we haven't had any alone time for two weeks! He's either involved in some group activity or we're both too tired after training or chores."

"Hmm."'Aiden hummed in agreement, taking a deep swallow of the wine, "As much as I like Geralt and Eskel and how close they all are, there's certain activities I don't want them involved in." His expression turned devilish, "Want to do something about it?"

"...I'm listening."

Aiden crooked his finger in a beckoning gesture, prompting Jaskier to lean in closer so he could whisper in his ear as if the other Witchers in the room were actually paying attention to them.

"Fucking Hell!"

When he'd decided to call it a night and join Aiden in bed, the last thing Lambert had been expecting was to stumble on his Cat and Geralt's bard locked in a heated kiss at the top of the stairs, Jaskier's hands leisurely roaming over Aiden's back, whimpering when the Witcher moved his attentions from the bard's mouth to his throat. It was only when Geralt's telltale growl reached his ears he lifted his head, languidly turning to look at the two unsuspecting voyuers. Both Wolves looked an entertaining combination of aroused and annoyed. Mostly aroused.

Aiden purred internally. Perfect.

"Well, this is what happens when you forget about us." He said with an exaggerated pout, which Jaskier matched as he wrapped his arms around Aiden's neck, attempting to give Geralt his most pathetic look.

"I've never felt so neglected in my life." He whined, something Geralt knew definitely wasn't true but he decided to play along once he realised neither Jaskier or Aiden smelt even vaguely of arousal, despite their previous position.

"Oh, don't worry Lark." He growled as he stalked forwards, Aiden having the forethought to hurriedly disentangle himself, "I'm about to make sure you're very well taken care of."

Jaskier gave a yelp of surprise which turned into a laugh as Geralt threw him over his shoulder before stalking away towards his room. Jaskier grinned widely as he threw a salute to Aiden before they disappeared around the corner.

Before he realised what was happening, he found himself in Jaskier's previous position. Boxed in against the stone wall with Lambert's chest pressed against his, "That was your idea, wasn't it?"

It wasn't really a question and it was pointless to try and lie, "Yes." Aiden said, meeting Lambert's gaze, gasping in surprise when the Wolf ducked his head and started nuzzling at his neck.

"And you honestly feel the same?"

"...Yes."

Lambert let out a rumble, the meaning of which Aiden couldn't quite discern as he nipped at Aiden's pulse.

"So." Aiden prompted, squirming a little, "You going to make it up to me, or punish me?"

"Depends. How serious were you being about the no underthings?"

[bumblesimagines]

“ i'm extremely okay with this. “

- Ciri

“ i'm extremely okay with this. “

pronouns for y/n: he/him/his, male reader

Smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress, Ciri swept her gaze over those present. The Belleteyn festival. A chance for Ciri to feel normal again, to forget her worries for a night. All she felt was giddiness as she took in the lively attendees and listening to the music playing. She kept her mask close to her face and hoped nobody would recognize her.

Geralt and Yennefer's eyes bore into her back as she strode through the festivities, gaze bouncing around in order to soak everything in before they'd eventually be forced to go back out on the road in search of a new place to call home. She smiled and laughed at the performances, finally being able to enjoy herself. She turned to glance back at Geralt and Yennefer, shoulder bumping against someone and she saw it, a new vision.

She heard laughter, a mix of her voice and a stranger's. She saw someone's bare back turned toward her in a cozy bed and watched herself reach out to touch them. The wail of a baby pierced through next and she found herself holding a bundle that had her ashen-gray hair.

When she blinked, she saw the festival again and a voice rumbled near her ear. "Apologies." It sent a shiver down her spine and she whirled around, the mask nearly slipping from her fingers. The man tilted his head at her, (E/C) eyes peeking through the maroon mask on his face.

"You-" She caught herself and cleared her throat, finding that her hands had begun trembling. Had she just witnessed her future? Was she to become... a mother? A wife?

"Are you alright?" He asked, lips curling into a teasing smile. "Did I knock into you that hard?"

"No, I... Sorry, I..." At a loss for words for the first time in a while, Ciri certainly didn't miss the feeling. A hand gently touched her back and she glanced over her shoulder, finding Geralt and Yennefer at her side.

"Is something wrong, Ciri?" Geralt questioned, his eyes fixated on the man. Most would typically turn into blabbering messes when Geralt glared at them, but the stranger simply stared back at him until his attention turned to Yennefer and he grinned.

"It's been a while, Yen." He purred and scooped her hand into his, lips brushing against her knuckles. Ciri felt a flash of jealousy and blinked, startled by her own reaction.

"(Y/N)…" Yennefer breathed. "Vilgefortz said you were dead. He said you had been-"

"Killed in battle? And you believed that, Yen? You wound me." (Y/N) released her hand and shook his head, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment.

"You know each other?" Geralt cocked a brow, a frown settling on his features.

"(Y/N) is a mage who worked alongside Vilgefortz sometimes." Yennefer explained to the bulky witcher, violet eyes never leaving (Y/N), almost as if afraid if she blinked he'd disappear. "The Brotherhood had attempted many times to recruit him for his abilities. Why would he lead us to believe you were dead?"

"He owed me a favor." (Y/N) replied coolly and shrugged his shoulders, the disinterest on his face clear as day. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a glance.

"You're a mage?"

"Indeed I am, Princess." Ciri's heart skipped a beat and she nearly huffed. He was a stranger. A potential threat... and possibly her future husband.

"What are you doing here then, mage?" (Y/N) looked back at Geralt, locking eyes with him as Geralt placed a protective hand over Ciri's shoulder.

"I was passing through and heard about the festival so I decided to attend."

"Where are you headed?"

"Anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere. I have no real destination in mind since it seems I'll bump into an old friend in most places. Being found by the Brotherhood is the last thing I desire." (Y/N) tore his eyes away from the witcher to gaze around him. Ciri swallowed.

"You should come with us."

"Ciri-"

"We have the same dilemma. We can help each other. You stay with us somewhere where you won't be found and in return, you can teach me magic." Ciri proposed with a sudden boost of confidence. (Y/N)'s lips formed a grin and he peered back at her, eyes lighting up with interest.

"I'm sure our little mage wouldn't enjoy-"

"Oh, I'm extremely okay with this."

[thedreamlessnights]

Almond, Apple, & Maple - pt. 1

Geralt of Rivia x modern fem!reader (upcoming NSFW)

Synopsis: When a strange young woman crashes into your kitchen and sends you tumbling through time and space, you find yourself transported to a new world - one of monsters, magic, and witchers.

Warnings: Descriptions of vomiting and nausea, as well as blood & severe injuries.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! New Geralt series - someone please tell my brain to stop having long-winded ideas and relax? Anyway, as usual, this is the game version of Geralt and written accordingly. I'm very excited to get this story told, and I hope you all enjoy this first chapter! Comments and reblogs are extra appreciated <3

Theo is waiting when you arrive. You can see him from the porch, pacing back and forth in front of the window, the way he always does when it’s dark and you aren’t home. The sun’s just set, but with black clouds brimming the sky, you’d think it had gone to rest hours ago. 

When he finally sees you, Theo lets out a meow that’s deafened by the glass and rubs his cheek against the windowpane, no doubt purring up a storm. It’s only been a few hours since you left, but you’ve missed him. 

Despite your mile-long trudge through the snow and the way you’re sweating under your coat, your fingers are frozen. They fumble clumsily with your keys until the lock finally turns. Theo is immediately at your feet, nuzzling against your legs. He’s the only cat you know that doesn’t try to bolt when the door is open.

“Hey, bud,” you greet him, slightly out of breath. You slam the door shut and squat down, ignoring the protest in your thighs. The icicles of your fingers messily attempt to scratch behind his ears, but if Theo notices that you’re inept, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’ve never been more grateful for the cans of cat food nestled safely in your inner coat pocket, clinking dully against your remaining seventeen cents. There’s maybe a dollar or two more of loose change that can be scrounged up under couch cushions and in pockets and loose drawers. If you’re lucky, you might find a few crumpled bills. For this week, at least, Theo will be fed. You can’t say the same for yourself.

The house is warm and quick to thaw you out, which means your fingers start working again within a few minutes. Once they’re functional, a can of soup serves as your dinner. Thankfully, the microwave is still working. You dump the soup into a bowl and let it heat, then get Theo’s dinner ready for him. 

When he’s started eating - that’s when the day’s events finally hit you. 

Exhaustion is at the front of it all, thick and heavy, like a two-ton chain on your shoulders. Behind it is defeat. Defeat is exhaustion too, but different. It pulls at you from within. It isn’t your aching body or cracked, dry hands, isn't a chain or a profound sense of guilt; it’s a tiny fire within you, threatening at any moment to go out. And the inclination to let it happen.

You stare numbly at the counter, knowing the fridge is empty, knowing you have only five cans of food left until you go hungry again. Knowing that none of the job interviews have called you back, and that it’s been too long to keep up hope. 

Your hands start shaking and you want to cry, but no tears come. You’ve no doubt exhausted your supply - your eyes still feel puffy and sore from the cry you had earlier. Instead, a lump locks in your throat, and something pulls in your chest, and all at once, you’re not sure you have it in you to go on.

It’s Theo that you’re worried about, more than anything else. It’d be horrible, so horrible for you to dump him off at a shelter, but it’d be even worse to see him go hungry. You’d been hoping - are still hoping - that it wouldn’t come to that, but… you can only hope so much.

The shrill sound of the microwave rouses you from your lethargy and chain of thought. Food. The smell of the soup is heavenly, and it seeps life into you as you chug it down, spreading warmth throughout your chest. But before long, it’s finished. You’re left staring at the empty bowl, still hungry. Wanting to cry again.

Theo must sense that you’re upset, because he nuzzles against you and purrs louder than ever. No tears come, but they would if you had any left. Without him, there’s nothing but a hollow life of work - if you can even find it - and isolation. How can you possibly think about survival when there’s nothing to survive for? 

“What am I going to do?” you ask aloud, swallowing hard. You rub your temples and your words ring out in the silence, as if some response might come. Nothing. Of course, nothing.

It feels wrong to be sitting still like this. More than ever, you should be doing something. Yes, you need to move. The water in the sink is ice-cold and won’t heat, but you scrub the dishes anyway and dry them. Clean the counters. Sweep the floor. Organize the cabinets. 

These miniscule tasks keep you sane. They keep you from thinking.

Padding up to you, Theo stretches up and paws at your legs, clearly wanting to be held. You take him in your arms and hold him close, burying your face into his fur and kissing the soft little spot between his ears. He purrs louder and wriggles from your grip, making his way into your coat pocket and tucking himself into a comfortable position. He’s always been small, and likes being in there, for some reason. You hadn’t even realized you were still wearing the stupid coat.

There must be some way to keep him, right? Someone willing to watch him, just for a little while? But who? And how could you ever repay them?

A flash of sudden, searing light interrupts your thoughts. 

It comes out of nowhere and instantly spreads through your kitchen, brighter than you can stand, a ghostly hue of green. Just as you’ve shut your eyes to block it out, something rams into your shoulder and knocks the wind out of you. 

Your arm instinctively wraps in front of Theo as you stumble back. Your ribs burn with a hot, throbbing pain, and you search for breath that doesn’t come - gasping airlessly, sweat trickling down your neck until you finally taste oxygen. Oh, and your shoulder is jammed and aching too, but it’s clearly the least of your worries, because the room has started spinning. 

This is no gentle turn, no light sway of the ocean. It’s vertigo. The world is coming apart. You can see nothing but a black void as reality breaks at the seams and drags you with it. Nausea and disorientation wash over you until it’s all you can do to hold on to your dinner; hot, stinging bile in your throat, aching ribs. It hurts to breathe. Your knees buckle and legs crumple until you hit what should be hard ground, but it’s nothing. You’re falling. Theo starts wailing and digs his claws into your chest.

You’re on the sea, crashing in the thunderous waves, taking in mouthfuls of the salty water and coughing it back out - sinuses burning. You’re in an earthquake, gravel rattling beneath your hands like the ground might collapse under you, swallow you whole. 

You’re in soft grass, crawling on all fours, not knowing what’s real and what’s not. Your head throbs in rhythm with your heart and your body feels like it’s closing in on itself, compressing, bones bending. And all at once, it stops. 

You immediately lose your dinner. 

Thick, burning acid climbs up your throat again and again until you’re left retching, stomach churning. Theo meows fitfully in your coat, but you can’t move to let him out. With how hard you’re shaking, it’s hard to do anything but collapse onto your side. Then he finally worms his way out of your pocket and sits on your chest, wailing some more.

The bright light hasn’t faded, and you blink a few times and squint until you finally realize it’s the sun. Warm, golden light is shining down on you. Which would be lovely, if it wasn’t seven o’clock at night and the middle of winter. You’re dry, too, so your memories of the ocean clearly weren’t real.

I must have hit my head, you think. Exhaustion must have gotten the best of you, and you’d collapsed, hit your head, and hallucinated all of this. But when you finally gain the strength to sit up, setting Theo at your side, your thoughts stall in place.

There’s a young, ashen-haired woman lying unconscious next to you, and a wound on her abdomen is oozing blood. At first, she doesn’t seem real. But she’s warm when you lay a hand on her arm, and the ground has stopped spinning, so you figure she is. And she’s hurt.

Your hands move of their own accord, twitching, knowing that you should do something to help but not knowing what. In medical terms, you’re mostly clueless. Thankfully, when you carefully lift her shirt up from the abdomen, the wound doesn’t seem very deep. There’s bruising there too, deep violet blooming around her navel, but it’s her head that’s really scaring you.

On her temple is a swollen lump, not bleeding much - but it’s the internal damage that you worry about. Sure, you’d been trained in CPR when you were younger, but you have no idea how to treat an injury like this. The first thing you do is make sure she’s breathing. Then you find her pulse, strong and even under your fingers. Those things encourage you. 

You know that you should stop the bleeding, too. Clean the wound. Unfortunately, the only possessions you have at the moment are your coat and the seventeen cents left in the inner pocket. And Theo. Not exactly suited for fixing this sort of thing. 

Her clothes are… strange. They almost look like a costume, if the leather didn’t look so real, so meticulously fitted. And she has two swords at her back, though she’s clearly not in any position to use them. Not important, you chide yourself. The number of questions you have about what just happened is only growing and growing. But you can deal with those once she’s been treated. 

Your gaze catches a pouch on the girl’s belt, and you pull it open and lay out her things, muttering an apology under your breath for invading her privacy. Inside are a handful of strange-looking coins, a vial or two of substances you don’t recognize, and a roll of cotton bandages. When you open the vials and give them a whiff, both are their own disgusting, putrid odor, and neither are identifiable. Shuddering at the smell, you replace their corks and return them to the pouch. Which leaves only the bandages.

As cautiously as you can, you wrap them around her abdomen in an effort to stop the bleeding. It seems to staunch the blood flow. Somewhat. You don’t dare to move her or touch her head - nothing to be done about that here without the risk of making it worse. So you stand up with still-shaking legs and take stock of your surroundings. 

Green fields. As far as the eye can see, there are green fields with blooming wildflowers and bees buzzing from one spot to the next. Birds chirp in the distance, a bubbling stream lies about twenty feet away, and the sun is warmer than ever. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was spring. You have to take off your coat and tie it around your waist to ward off the growing heat.

There’s some form of wooden shack on the horizon, but you don’t feel right leaving the woman alone. Still, isn’t it better to get her some help? Should you be trying to wake her up? After a moment’s hesitation, you give her shoulder a slight shake, and she stirs. Another shake rouses her completely. 

She flinches and sits up with a start - halting the action with a pained yelp as she cradles an arm around her stomach, grimacing. Finally, her green eyes, so bright they almost appear to be glowing, land on you. “Wh-where am I?” she asks faintly, sounding as if she’s not quite conscious. “Who are you?”

Good questions, you think. But you have so few answers.

“I have no idea where we are,” you start. “This place just… appeared. I was in my kitchen, and - then I was here.” It’s a pathetic explanation, but it’s what you have. After a pause, you give her your name, too. You want to say more, but your mouth closes on its own. You don’t know what just happened, and you’re in no position to explain it.

“I see,” she says, voice tinged with effort as she straightens up. Her gaze lands on Theo, calmly laying beside you, and her lips quirk into a small smile - contrasting ghastly with her greying skin. “And who is this little one?” she asks.

“This is Theo,” you answer softly. 

“Ciri,” she reveals. “I’m… Ciri. I’d say it’s nice to meet you both, but...” She trails off, shaking her head. The movement sends blood trickling from her temple down her cheek. “It seems I’m a little worse for wear at the moment,” she lightly remarks, though her tone can’t hide the exhaustion, the dark circles under her eyes. “Help me up?” 

It’s easier said than done. 

You manage to get her standing and haul her arm over your shoulder as support, but she’s stumbling rather than walking. The sun is scorching hot and merciless, and you find yourself immediately missing the snow. You can’t stop here. 

The grey shade of Ciri’s skin gets worse and worse the further on you go. Her steps get progressively clumsier too, like her legs have started to spasm. Finally, her knees simply give out and she collapses, panting as she plants her gloved hands on the grass. The shack isn’t far now, but she’s bled through her bandages. It seems the wound was worse than you thought. At least Theo is obediently following behind the two of you, and seems to be enjoying this strange adventure.

“Only a little further,” you tell Ciri, even though you’re shaking with overextension and every inch of you hurts. Even though you know in your gut what the odds against her are.

She nods, gritting her teeth in determination, so you prop your shoulder under her arm and help her up. It’s worse this time. She’s a dead weight. You’re practically dragging her. But something anxious - manic, even - buzzes under your skin, fills your breath, surges strength to leadened muscles. Your thoughts trip over one another again and again until you find the word. Adrenaline. It’s the only reason you’re still walking.

The two of you have just made it through the door of the shack when she collapses again, tilting her head back against the wall as she gulps in air, pressing her hand against her abdomen.

You’re suddenly overtaken by the fear that she’ll die and leave you here alone. That you’ll be left with a corpse, a hollow, rotting shell of a girl you barely know. You want to ask her if she has any last wishes, if there’s anything you can do. But, seeing as she clearly hasn’t given up on life yet, it seems cruel to start bringing up death.

Instead, your hands, forever busy, start rummaging through the shack’s cabinets and drawers. You find a few small treasures: a bottle of spirit, some dried fruit and meat, and a length of clean (or, at least, it looks clean) cloth. You don’t waste a moment before returning to Ciri, undoing her blood-soaked bandages to press the cloth against the wound.

She softly cries out as you apply pressure, but makes no move to stop you. Her body lies limp as you work. Then you secure the cloth with the old bandages, tying them as tight as you dare. Her stomach is still bruised, after all, and she’s clearly in pain. At least her face looks less grey now. A little.

“Well, well. What’ve you got there?” she asks, her gaze turning toward the floor, where your newly-found treasures lie.

“Some kind of spirit, I think,” you tell her, picking up the bottle and examining it.

“Give it here?” 

You hand it over without hesitance. She bites off the cork, spits it on the floor, and takes a whiff of the liquid inside. Finding it acceptable, she downs a large swig and tilts her head back again, sighing in relief. Yes, she’s definitely less grey now.

She can’t be very old. What happened to her? Who did this to her? You’re suddenly filled with blind anger. A helplessness that you can’t do more, can’t even comfort her. Theo must be sharing your line of thought, because he crawls onto her lap and starts purring, tucking himself into a circle.

“Thank you very much, Theo,” she says weakly, petting his back. She takes another swig from the bottle, then closes her eyes. You linger near the window, fighting the urge to pace around the room. You’re just about to ask her what happened to her when the rapid sound of hoofbeats approaches.

“Ciri!” a voice calls. Deep - coarse. Warm. The hair on your neck stands up at the sound of it. From fear or anticipation, you don’t know.

“In here,” she responds. She doesn’t bother yelling, just speaks the words as if they’re meant for you. You doubt whoever it is out there can hear her, but he comes inside anyway, bursting through the door like he’s afraid it won’t open.

You immediately gape at the sight of him, thoughts conflicting. This stranger, he’s tall, and broad, and beautiful. And a little scary. You should be afraid of him. He clearly thinks you hurt Ciri, from his expression. You should move, or explain, but you can’t. You just stare at him.

He stalls at the doorway, taking in the sight of her with wide eyes, looking almost pained. You can’t tell what color they are - his eyes - but as they rake over the extent of her wounds, something hardens in his gaze. Then it turns to you. He takes a slow step forward, muscles pulled tense like he’s waiting for a fight, watching you the way one watches a venomous snake. Do you imagine the way his hand instinctively twitches toward his blade?

“Geralt,” Ciri says, sounding immensely relieved. “It’s alright. She helped me.”

At her words, he instantly relaxes, gaze turning away from you as he steps over to Ciri and squats down at her side. Your head’s begun spinning again.

“Geralt, is that Ciri?” a distorted, cool-toned voice asks. “Is she there?” The words seem to have come from the air - you can’t see a source for this new speaker. Then Geralt pulls out a small metal box from his belt and holds it up toward his mouth. Like a phone.

“She’s here.”

The response comes through the box again. “Don’t move.” And, apparently, the voice doesn’t wait for an answer. Ten seconds later, a swirling circle of light appears in the midst of the room and a dark-haired woman walks out of it. 

“Ciri,” she murmurs, going pale. The word is half relief, half fear, and her voice is much clearer now that it isn’t coming from the strange box. She kneels at Ciri’s side, tucking bloodied hair out of her face. “Come with me,” she says. “We must get you out of here, get you somewhere safe.”

“Not going to argue with that,” Ciri says, attempting a laugh. The sound cuts off in pain. The dark-haired woman purses her lips, then helps her to her feet, half-carrying Ciri the way you did. The two of them walk toward the swirling circle of light together, and you watch them helplessly - not knowing if you should say something.

At the last moment, just before they’ve entered, Ciri angles herself toward you. “Wait - I forgot to thank you for your help,” she says. “You may have just saved my life. I can’t repay you at the moment, but… thank you.”

Frozen, you simply nod in response, watching as the two of them step into the light together. Ciri’s words swirl through your mind restlessly. There’s a flash, then both of them are simply gone. Vanished into the air. And, a moment later, the circle fades. 

Leaving you and Geralt alone.

You stare at him across the room, and he stares back at you, looking even more confused than you feel. You’ve seen a fair amount of insanity in your life, but never anything like this. You can’t even begin to process what you’ve just seen. And, funnily enough, you’ve never felt more alone in your life, even with his company. 

Now that Ciri isn’t here, you can take in the sight of him fully. Dark leather armor, snow-white hair, and two swords strung on his back. Like Ciri.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were wearing costumes. But Ciri’s blood is much too real on your hands, and so is this… weird, fucked reality that you’re in, sunny when it should be winter, daytime when it should be night, you have no idea where you are, and - fuck. What the hell is happening?

Your feet move to take a step toward the table - to sit down, think all of this over. But something strange happens when you move. Your body starts shuddering and the ground below you suddenly feels unstable. Your head throbs and your legs feel strangely light. Instead of taking a step toward the table, your knees tumble out from under you.

Or they would have. If Geralt hadn’t caught you.

tags:

@henryownsme @madamemelancholysstuff @fullmoonshadowwrites @darkscrossfire @beforethepen @julijal @ailynyan @ivuravix

(So sorry if you didn't want to be tagged! If you’d only like to be tagged for my other series, Accismus, please let me know and I'll happily fix that for future works ❤️)

[tashacee]

Thought randomly popped in my head after you mentioned you ised to be in The Witcher fandom: how would Geralt react to the Hero's Aspect AU?

Oh man writing this was so much fun

School of the Cat

Geralt sighed as he made his way through the forest. This was ridiculous. He had no idea why he was doing this. He was wasting his time and he’d be the laughing stock of Kaer Morhen if his brothers knew.

Jaskier had come running up to him in a fit of panic, having gone to take a whiz in the night.

“GERALT!” He’d shouted. “There’s a giant cat man monster in the woods!”

Geralt had… not really known what to say about that. Except that giant cat man monsters categorically did not exist. But Jaskier didn’t seem very pleased by this response.

Which was why he was now walking away from their camp and into the woods, in search of a

He sighed. Was he really doing this?

…in search of a giant cat man monster.

For fucks sake. Jaskier probably startled a badger or something. This was ridiculous.

But here he was regardless.

He rolled his eyes. Five more minutes and he was heading back to camp. Back to his nice warm bedroll and a bit of blessed sleep.

To his left, something cracked. Geralt whirled around, his pupils dilating to see better in the darkness and-

Well shit.

That was a giant cat man.

Huh.

Geralt wasn’t too sure about the ‘monster’ part. The guy was big, sure, but he was also well dressed with some nice jewellery and his hair was brushed and tied back.

The cat man was holding up his hands as if to show that he wasn’t dangerous, his eyes wide and blue as he looked at the Witcher.

“Uh.” Geralt said. Shit, he was no good with people. “Hello.”

The cat man looked relieved, his tail - wow okay yes he had a tail - coming out from where it had been tucked between his legs.

And he… started gesturing.

Fuck.

Geralt was pretty good at languages. He was pretty good at sign. He understood common sign, both varieties of hen llinge sign, he even had a pretty strong understanding of dwarven sign.

This was none of those.

Uuuuh…

Geralt tried common and then both variants of elvish to see if the cat guy understood him. But he only looked confused and gave a frustrated meow - and fuck, THAT was not the sound he expected to come from this seven foot tall cat man.

Catboy tried what was clearly a different variant of sign. Then another. Then- FUCK!

Geralt barely rolled out of the way in time as the cat man made the sign for Igni and a jet of flame shot out from his hands.

In fairness, though, he seemed fairly horrified by it himself, letting out a screeching yowl and scrambling backwards and tumbling to the ground. Well, at least it hadn’t been intentional. Clearly. Though Geralt had NO idea what language he was trying to use if he’d accidentally signed Igni.

The cat man was doing something else- fumbling at the offending arm and -

What the FUCK?

He literally. He. He ripped his arm off. And threw it into the underbrush, yowling.

“Hmm.” Said Geralt, slowly standing.

The he cat man was still sitting in the undergrowth and looking suitably freaked out, which was fair. He was clutching at his shoulder where he had pulled his arm off and - ah. Yes. There was a stump there with an old scar cutting through the fur. The arm must have been a prosthetic.

Geralt stooped and picked it up from where it had been thrown, and immediately his pendant began to hum. Hmm. A magical prosthetic then - that would explain how it moved so well at least. L

He turned to the cat man and held it out.

“I’m Geralt.” He said “want your hand back?”

The cat man nodded meekly and took the arm back, purring in thanks as he slotted it back into place. Fuck. How on earth had Jaskier ever mistaken this guy for a monster? He was quite literally a pussy cat!

“Fuck.” Geralt said, because that was essentially his version of ‘hello’. Looked like he’d made a new friend. “You can… come back to our camp if you want? Till you find… whoever you’re looking for?”

The cat man perked up and nodded. This was going to be fun.

-

Jaskier at least had the good graces to be embarrassed by his earlier reaction and began to dedicate himself to trying to figure out what their new friend was saying.

They were more successful than Geralt expected. Jaskier managed to figure out that the catman was called Wild and that he was looking for his brothers. And Wild, as an apology for startling him, began to cook.

And DAMN he could cook. Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever had food this good.

Wild could stay. It was official. He was wonderful. If his brothers never showed up Geralt wouldn’t be too mad, as long as he got to eat like this again.

-

But of course, all good things must come to an end. Wild’s brothers showed up and were categorically NOT cat people. As it turned out, neither was Wild, normally, apparently he just fucked around with a cursed object and found out.

Still, the week they’d spent travelling with Wild had been a fun one, and he’d been sad to see the big guy go. Not just because of the food, though that had definitely been a bonus, but because he’d actually been a fairly chill guy.

Geralt smiled as he rode off. At least Wild had managed to leave something with him. The strange slate at his hip had been able to create pictures more detailed than the finest oil painting and he had taken one of him, Geralt, and Jaskier one night. They’d been halfway through eating and both the Witcher and the Bard looked fairly surprised, but it was a fantastic picture. And Wild had managed to materialise a copy and gift it to him.

And Geralt knew that while all things must end and everyone eventually parts ways, he’d treasure that picture forever.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 2

Jaskier grew used to hearing Geralt purr. He purred when they were sitting by the campfire after a good meal. He purred when he had a quiet moment to sit in the sun. He purred when Jaskier was able to convince him to let him rub his back. He purred when he was able to soak in a hot bath after a hunt. And he purred as he lay in bed or on his bedroll, listening to Jaskier quietly work on one of his songs.

He purred when he was happy, so it confused Jaskier when the bard heard him make a sudden, short purr while they were in a crowded market. There were people everywhere, talking, laughing, haggling, and singing. Jaskier was loving all the activity and bustle. There was so much to see, and so many people to talk to.

Geralt started to get uncomfortable. There were too many f***ing people. They were too f***ing close. There was too much f***ing noise. There was just too much going on. He wanted to leave. Now. But they also needed supplies.

A man jostled him by accident, bumped by another market goer, and Geralt made a noise...

Jaskier looked at Geralt when he heard him purr suddenly. The Witcher was glaring at a man who was very quickly stammering appologies and trying to disappear into the crowd.

What the h*ll...?

That purr hadn't sounded like his regular purr. It was deep and rolling. And if Jaskier hadn't had such a good ear for sounds, he would have thought Geralt was growling or 'Hmm' ing threateningly.

Geralt had growled at people before. It was very useful as a warning to stay away, to scare most common folk away, and to express annoyance.

Jaskier had been on the receiving end of a growl several times when his chatter got on Geralt's nerves.

Geralt had been growling at people all morning. They had been bumped and jostled several times already, and Jaskier figured that Geralt was starting to reach the end of his patience.

But that purr concerned him.

He noticed the way Geralt shifted restlessly, pupils dilating slightly as he met his eye, throat working to hold back another purr. Something was wrong. Geralt never purred in public.

Jaskier switched to using Handspeak. He held one hand out, palm up, and shook it horizontally, then curled his fingers into a fist, leaving his thumb and pinky extended, then tapped the sign against his chin.

(What's wrong?)

(I want to leave.) *weird purr with visible effort to cut it off*

(Trouble?)

Geralt's movements were stiff, (No, I just...) *more weird purring* (Let's just go-!)

A man stumbled and bumped into him just then, and Jaskier saw Geralt barely keep himself under control. Geralt ugly growled but managed to keep his arms at his sides when he really wanted to shove the man across the square.

"My apologies, Master Witcher!" The man stammered, clutching his cap and backing away as Geralt gave him a severe scowl. Other people were now giving them wide berth and eyeballing them nervously.

Geralt huffed and twitched his head, signalling for the man to go. The man backed away, bobbing his head in a storm of frantic apologetic bowing that made him look like a nervous pigeon.

Jaskier lightly touched Geralt's arm, feeling him bristle, then relax. He was now looking at every movement, turning at every sound, constantly scenting the air. It clicked: Geralt was overstimmulated. It was time to go.

(Let's go back to the inn.)

*suppressed weird purr and a curt nod*

They had hurried back to the inn, Jaskier leading Geralt through the less crowded parts of the market. Geralt had gone up to their room, closed the curtains and curled up on the bed. He pulled the blanket over himself, then started purring. Geralt closed his eyes and focused on the rythmic sound of it, of the steady vibration, and let it slowly chase away the tightness in his chest.

The sound of Geralt's purring was kind of relaxing. Jaskier found it interesting that this Distressed Purr sounded different than Geralt's Happy Purr. It gave his brain an odd sensation. If he closed his eyes, the sound almost made him feel like he was rocking or swaying.

He realized that this deep, rolling purr was Geralt's way of self-soothing. He wondered if it was the equivalent of an extremely distressed human rocking themselves. The thought bothered him. How many times had Geralt done this in his years on the Path alone? How many times had laid in his bedroll, or in a bed at an inn, alone and Distress purring?

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitantly started rubbing Geralt's shoulder. When Geralt didn't pull away or growl at him, he slowly laid down and cuddled up against his back.

Jaskier heard the purr get a little quieter after a few minutes.

After about an hour Geralt's purr dropped off and he got up to putter around the room. He was looking a little bit better. Less like he was five seconds away from biting someone.

Jaskier let him stay in the room while he returned to the market for the rest of their supplies. Niether one of them ever mentioned the incident.

From then on, Jaskier did his best to keep an eye on Geralt when they went anywhere with crowds. He was good at reading people, and he started paying more attention to Geralt's subtle signs of discomfort. When he noticed the Witcher start getting restless, Jaskier would do whatever he needed to do to give his friend some breathing room.

Or just flat out help him get the f**k out of where ever they were so Geralt could find a quiet place to Distress purr until he felt better. Eventually, Jaskier became very good at helping Geralt completely avoid those situations without him even realizing what was happening.

And Geralt didn't just purr like that when he was overstimmulated. Jaskier heard him purr like that several times when the people of a town had been less than friendly towards him. Oh, he tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, but his purr said otherwise.

Jaskier usually gave him his space, and busied himself on the other side of camp, pretending he couldn't hear him. If Geralt started looking too gloomy, the bard would casually wander over and hand him a mug of tea. Jaskier would then wordlessly drape a blanket around Geralt's shoulders.

He reasoned that since Witchers had several cat-like qualities, that surely they would like to be warm like cats did. He would then sit close beside Geralt, because cats liked to cuddle. It worked most of the time. Geralt would get all warm from the tea, and he would relax. His purr would change from Distressed to Happy as he would start to doze off, leaning on Jaskier...

[the-mandawhor1an]

6 months later...

TLDR: it's Zaddy's and my RP 'anniversary'; artworks; Wolke being emotional about her Tumblr experience; and a fluffy one shot/drabble at the end of the WAY TOO LONG POST

I've alluded to it before, I've commissioned some artwork of the two lovebirbs and they just so happened to get finished this week. Huge thanks to @kenobiwanx for making the two come alive 😭 I can NOT stop staring at them.

LOOK AT THEM 😭😭😭

Yes these are spoilers for upcoming events but I just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

@zaddymandalorian Überraschung!

Back to the actual point *wipes tears off her face*

Let's set the scene...

My dearest Zaddy and I reconnected in November of 2023 as I had been on a work trip at that time and I needed someone to talk to. We'd been talking on and off for the last months, mostly smalltalk and sometimes me complaining about stuff. Worth mentioning is also that I sent her my Maia fanfic back in June. First person to read it besides myself. I've known Zaddy since spring of 2016 ish (which also means I've known her longer than my husband – fun fact) so I felt comfortable with her reading my extremely self-indulgent shit. Everyone needs friends like that ♥

We mused about the roleplays we lost to forum admins being ruthless in their inactive-thread-deletion efforts every 4 months. We had barely started a Witcher RP and I'm sure it would've been awesome if we had continued. We literally stopped 7 ish posts in so nothing had happened really. – Why was it inactive? Well I took a 14 month roleplay hiatus due to me being chronically fatigued. The joys of working a stressful job and being severly anemic. Oops.

I tested the waters and made an offhand comment about maybe giving in and asking her to plot something with me.

This is a very convincing re-enactment of what happened: (translated because we're German potaters)

Well... and that's when the fun began

I, being a total Pedro fangirlie, asked if we wanted to just take the synopsis of my fic and run with that. She agreed, I was happy, she was happy.

So it's been 6 months.

OH. MY. GOD.

I did not think I had it in me to be consistently posting daily for 6 months. We've laughed, we've cried, we've lost sleep over it. We've grinned into our phone screens like maniacs at work and luckily no one asked

And now, 260k words later, I'm still in love with the babies. In fact I'd say I love the little blorbs even more now. Maia has a face, she has outfits (multiple!) she has a family and a story (that's only about 1/3 written so whew we might make it to a million)

Of course I also love Zaddy very much (and I will keep lovebombing your ass, bitch 🖤💜)

You know what, fuck it, I'm mentioning more people. Buckle up! Wolke spreads some love!

@immarocketman for being the first person on Tumblr that I kind of clicked with because we share a love for Pedro and the color purple 💜

@roughdaysandart for 1) allowing me insight in her creative process making a Fanfic comic and b) doodling Maia basically as soon as she made an appearance in text form 💜

The moots: @thefrogdalorian @djarins-cyare @djarins-wife @pedroswife69 for interacting with me, commenting on my posts and being real cute in general 💜

Everyone that ever interacted with me on here has been nothing but friendly, I feel extremely welcome over here. Everyone who liked/reblogged or commented on my posts, thank you so much. 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Now that the sappy whining is over, who wants to read something actually interesting?

In spirit of me being overbearingly loving, I've typed up a bit of fluff from the lovesick fools™ of Clan Mudhorn. Unbeta'd.

It was early in the morning, the sun barely over the horizon and engulfing the room in warm orange light, when Din awoke, a soft and warm body nestled into his side. She let out the softest little hum when he buried his face in her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close.

"Sleep," he purred into her hair, placing a kiss on her forehead when her face turned towards him. Again, with a quiet hum, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "How am I supposed to sleep when my husband has his hands all over me?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized and gently stroked her hair. "Why are you awake anyway?" she asked, finally raising her head so her sleepy, green eyes looked into his. "Hey mesh'la," he greeted her with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I don't know. I guess the sun woke me up, it's too bright in here." He sighed. "I miss the hut on Nevarro, it was always dark in there." "Come on, it's not that bad here. We needed more space anyway."

She pulled away from him, rolling over so she was on her stomach, hugging the pillow underneath her to get a better look at her everything. "Is the sun too strong, my warrior king?" a grin crept onto her lips as her eyes blinked slowly. Clearly this was way too early for her liking. To be fair, last night went on for longer than anticipated. "Are the little troublemakers awake yet?" She raised her head and turned to face the door. For now it seemed peaceful and quiet in the adjacent rooms.

Knowing well she would rise from the bed to check if he didn't stop her, Din hoisted himself over her body, practically pressing her into the mattress with his body weight. "You're not getting up to check on the kids now, cyar'ika," he muttered, peppering kisses along her shoulder. A chuckle escaped her lips as she rotated her head so she could see him in her peripheral.

She was so glad the mattress was soft enough to just give in under the weight, forming a perfectly human-shaped dent to make way for her body. "Whatever you say, great Mand'alor." For just a second she could feel him grind his pelvis into her butt.

He kept on pressing kisses on her neck, her shoulders, slowly crawling down her spine, kissing every little scar he found on his descent. "You really have to stop saying it like that." "Like what?" "With the bedroom-voice." He stopped to crawl back up to her head and leaned forward, giving her the chance to look into his face. His eyes were darkened, one of his eyebrows twitching upward.

"You're insatiable," she laughed, shaking her head. He slowly lifted off of her, immediately wrapped both arms around her and pulled her onto his chest. "That's your fault, my love." His voice was warm and silky, the vibration in his chest making her shudder. "My fault?" "You're just too beautiful so I can't keep my eyes or my hands off of you for long." "Di'kut" "Gar di'kut, forever." "Forever is a long time," she said softly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"And I'll be happy to spend every minute with you. I love you so much" he took her hand in his and softly kissed her knuckles. She sighed and watched him kiss every finger, eyeing her intently. She was mesmerized by his eyes, almost hypnotized by the dark brown, with the orange light surrounding them it reminded her of embers, glowing and warm.

Forever was a long time and although it didn't feel like it, time was progressing, evident by the threads of silver that sparkled in his dark brown curls. And although she felt like she herself was showing signs of ageing, he always told her she was as beautiful as the day he met her. "I love you more, mesh'la," she replied and rested her hand on his cheek.

"You and the kids are everything to me. I would die for you," he mused, closing his eyes as her finger brushed over his beard toward his lips. Her movements halted and the dark brown eyes reopened, scanning her features for signs of her sudden stop. The small crease on her forehead was enough for him to know exactly what was troubling her.

"Look at me," he pleaded with her, cupping her cheek in one of his hands now. "I know that look on your face. I would doesn't mean I will. Stop thinking about it. I'm here and so are you." Her hand slowly retreated to rest atop of his, thumb brushing over his warm and tanned skin. "Thanks to you, I am. You've saved my life once, I hope you don't have to do it a second time." She smiled warmly and nestled her face further into his hand.

Din grumbled and pulled her face closer, peppering it with kisses wherever he could reach. "I've saved your life twice. But it doesn't matter, you've given me more than I could ever imagine. I have a family now. And the most amazing wife in the galaxy." "I love you." "Until the end of space and time."

Both flinched when they heard a noise outside the bedroom. Instantly both heads were turned to the door, listening for more noises. One of the kids must've woken up, maybe their voices were too loud.

"Any guesses?" Din asked his wife, once again burying his face in her hair. "My gut tells me it's your mini-version," she suapected, turning her head to kiss him gently. "Your gut? Or your Jedi magic?"

Din rose from the bed, stretching his muscles in the morning sun, stared at by his better half. "And you say I'm insatiable." A sly grin appeared on his lips as he put on a shirt, his shoulders and bicep stretching the fabric just enough to make her hum. "The faster you check on the troublemakers the sooner you can come back to bed. Hurry, I'm not done with you."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

Translations:

mesh'la - beautiful

cyar'ika - darling

di'kut - idiot

gar di'kut - your idiot

[inexplicifics]

🧡 for Vesemir/Guxart!

There are a lot of things about getting older which have surprised Vesemir.

One of them, to be fair, is that he has survived long enough to grow old. He was a hellraiser as a young witcher, and no one in Kaer Morhen would have put money on his living past his century mark. Hell, Vesemir himself was rather astonished when he hit fifty, and now here he is at something a bit over three hundred and still kicking.

The first time he caught himself scolding one of the young hellions in almost exactly the same words Barmin had used on him decades ago, Vesemir had to go have a drink and run the hardest pendulum course a couple of times to reassure himself that he wasn’t actually becoming an old fogey. These days he borrows Barmin’s lectures shamelessly, and only runs the hardest pendulum course once in a blue moon, when he has to show the young whippersnappers that he may be grey-haired and a little creaky, but decades of practice can in fact make up for the fact that he moves a little more slowly than he used to in his prime.

The years have taught him the value of taking his time on things. He scouts far more thoroughly when he goes out on the Path than he ever did when he was young; he lingers over his meals and his ale, savoring the taste.

And he delights in spending long winter mornings in bed, his Cat sprawled over his chest, sharing lazy, indulgent kisses and the comforting warmth of two bodies curled in his ridiculous heap of blankets.

It’s nothing like the encounters he used to have as a young man. There’s no danger to it - well, aside from sharing his bed with a Cat. He isn’t worried about having to jump out a window, or causing a political incident, or even just having his partner eat him - in retrospect, bedding a higher vampire was not the smartest thing he’s ever done.

Instead, it’s slow and sweet and easy, as so few parts of a witcher’s life are ever easy, and when he was younger he would have been baffled at the idea that he would ever want such things.

Now, though, with Guxart purring softly as they kiss, each lazy press of lips adding to the slow building pleasure of the morning, Vesemir thinks his younger self was very foolish indeed. 

(Or here on AO3!)

[geraltyen-of-corvobianco]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 [ⱽᵃˡᵉⁿᵗⁱⁿᵉ'ˢ ᴰᵃʸ ²⁰²⁴ 💕] (Expand to read the entire story)

-

It all started as a gentle cruise down the little stream,

A book in his hands, the Witcher reads.

'Twas just a simple fairytale, the usual action and love,

But his Sorceress beside him sat engrossed, her eyes filled with mirth.

But underlying that mirth is a hint of excitement, glistening with wonder,

And the Witcher is left to speculate, what would happen if he intentionally makes a blunder.

No doubt the excitement would intensify,

Sexual desires, fervent passion and much more,

But wouldn't that be too early, he wondered, as he glared at the still-blue sky,

If only it were night, so he could open the door.

"Door?" the sorceress purred in his mind.

Oh dammit! It's too early!

The sorceress leaned closer, a subtle smirk on her lips - she's certainly putting him in a bind!

Fingers quivering, the book at risk of falling into the river -

The setting sun unexpectedly saved it, as the Witcher, with his deft hands,

Made a swift turn and flicked the book onto the deck, while at the same time gently, lovingly, pulled the sorceress onto his chest.

How had the setting sun save the book you ask?

Well...

"Well played, Witcher. Well played."

"Hmm, what do you mean?" the Witcher said, feigning innocence.

"Sunsets are always so gorgeous, aren't they?" Yen replied, deciding to spare her adorable Witcher.

"Forever radiant and gorgeous, just like the lady beside me."

"Oh stop it, you."

.

.

The sky inevitably darkened, and as the stars come out to play,

Dinner was served, with the candlelight as their only sunray...

.

.

"Please tell me you didn't make everything yourself." Yen teased.

"Oh, but what if I did?" Geralt said, pretending to be hurt.

Yennefer chuckled with amusement, her violet eyes glistening in the moonlight. At that moment, all Geralt could think about was how gorgeous she looked. What else does he think about except that; but yes - she's so beautiful.

Yennefer put a hand out and stroked his face, her amused eyes gradually softening to one of gratitude. No words or explanation were needed. It was a jest; they both knew it. And they both know if he were the real chef, Yen would still eat it all. With lots of teasing and jesting about how badly he cooked but, she will never reject him. She will never hurt him.

Later, before they reached their destination, they toasted for their love. And happiness. Because what is love without happiness?

. . The boat finally rocked to a stop,

And without warning, the sorceress leaped!

Clothes begone and goblets overturned,

The Witcher was flabbergasted,

As he sat amidst overturned plates, crashes and messes.

He heard her delirious, playful laughter,

Taunting him relentlessly to chase her faster.

He leaped to the pier after, obliging her wishes,

And tried to catch her, but dammit, he misses!

"Oh Witcher, Witcher, why are your clothes still on?"

So this was what it's about was it?!

"Of course it is, what else do you think it was?"

Of course it had to end that way.

"Of course, of course. Now come here Witcher...come closer to me..."

The sorceress let herself be caught, cornered between a Witcher and a tree,

The Witcher smirked, and let his clothes be dropped,

Then he held her close, lest she flees,

And they made love under the moonlight this valentines' day,

Deeply, fervently, blissfully - to the extent that no words can ever convey...💜

~

Thank you for reading till the end! Happy Valentine's Day 🥰💜

P.S.

Also, here's an aesthetic shot of the boat painstakingly made just for the background/setting of this post :')

[artistsfuneral]

Hello! My current project is a ciri x Roche- lol sorry, I couldn't resist, what is with this girl. 😂 I'm working on a jaskier/Geralt fic today, or I will when I'm permitted to move. Right now my labor is required to pet a very good cat. He is orange and very fluffy. Do you have a current project you're excited about? If you're still taking prompts, how about something with cutagens? :3 Do you think cat wtichers, or witchers in general, scent mark the way real cats do? Now I'm picturing Geralt rubbing his jaw against Roach lol. Or you could do something with Jaskier discovering that wolf witchers all sleep together in piles in the winter, like puppies. Whatever you feel like. Have a good day!

VERY THIN ICE my dear 😂😅 [they had us in the first half, not gonna lie]

I hope you got into safety from your hostage situation and managed to work a bit on your fic!

My creativity is a bit all over the place right now, I'm doing lots and lots of things. I returned to journaling, did a lot of crocheting, drew a bit, wrote a bit, got into fantasy map making, consumed a lot of Gab Smolders horror Let's Plays, started learning norwegian for no reason, etc. etc. Chaotic, but I'm having fun!

Fandomwise I'm also all over the place, but maybe returning a bit to the witcher? Honestly I just love this fandom so much, that's why I keep coming back. So many talented people. ❤❤❤

I have SO MANY cutagen thoughts. So many. So, so many. Have you read my stories? You should totally (re)read my cutagen stories! My main... focus? when I think about how different schools interact with each other is to think about how each school should have different cutagens to make them unique and kind of to keep things interesting? (a cut here because this got long)

See, I've had cats for most of my life and currently we have one cat and two doggos, so I can get a bit particular about cutagens. So whilst I definitely love the thought of all witchers purring when they're happy, part of me says NO! only kitties purr! (which would include Griffins and Manticores) What do wolves do then? Dogs and wolves have this kind of happy growl that's not really a growl just a kind of noise they make that varies from dog to dog. Some have a barky-howl, a soft awuu, others whine or huff. It's a bit hard to describe if you never heard it, but if you watch enough funny dog videos you know what I'm talking about. Especially some of the more vocal wolves just growl constantly which sometimes sounds like a dangerous growl, but they just have these... gravely growly voices.

Cats playing versus dogs playing is also super interesting. Both chase each other around the house, swat and paw at each other, biting is on the table but cats will just use their paws a lot more and dogs definitely bite more. If your cats get loud while playing, 60-70% of the time that's an angry noise. Dogs are almost always loud when playing rough and they're having the time of their life.

I actually fell in love with dogs when my friend took me out to walk two of them and she let them off leash and they immediately started playing like two feral viking gods- It looked so rough, they were so loud and fast and you could see the power behind it when they tackled each other with their full body weight. Absolutely chaotic. But they were having the time of their lives. (they were very well matched strength and size wise and had known each other for years, so it was totally normal for them to play this crazy)

Okay getting off track, you did this to yourself nonny. ❤😂

My favorite wolf witcher cutagen headcanon is that they have hackles. Just- a row of really dense, thick fur that starts just above their shoulder blades and grows along their spine/neckline up and into their hair. And it first starts to grow in when the mutagens slowly settle into their genes (there's this whole eating magic mushrooms thing before the Grasses) and some of the wolves decide to shave it off (especially those that spend more time in cities - makes them appear more normal) butthe hackles actually help a lot with communication. A raised hackle means distress of some sort and depending on how high it's raised the higher the level of stress is. But it's also great for character design- A dog's hackle depends on their fur texture and length. Really short hair means a spiky little hackle, icredibly long hair means you can't really see it rising and some dogs (like my own :3) have a type of fur that makes their hackle look like a hyena/dinosaur monster. Very prominent, very obvious and easy to read. (Lambert would have one of those.) I actually drew you some fanart that I will add to this post if I remember, where you can kind of see what I mean. 👀😁

Scent marking is a dominant trait in the cat cutagens. Everything and everyone has to be marked as someone's. No argument here. I don't really know if wolves do it as much as the cats, but at least a little bit. (I do like to write it into my stories because it's the right kind of possessive behaviour *swoon*) I think from a logical standpoint the big difference would be that dogs/wolves smell very strongly when wet and that anything they use a lot (like a favorite blanket or Jaskier) equally starts smelling like wet dog when wet. Can't say I noticed that with my cats. Also wet dogs are more prone to rub themselves against you? Don't know if that's a scent thing or a "you make a great towel" thing.....

Yeah, I think I will leave it here for now 😂😂😂😂 kudos if you've come so far. If you have anything else cutagen wise that you need my opinion on let me know XD

[writingsofwesteros]

Girl when I saw you open I did a fucking speedrun to find this.

I was thinking about another idea for the fic. How about reader who is a powerful sorceress.

Maybe she's coming from old valyria , she is surprisingly resistant to fire like most Targeryens. I dont know why ,but I thought about her being a Daemon lover and apple of his eye. When he's back in kings landing she is back with him. She enchants everyone with her beauty and sharp tounge( A little bit like Yennefer from witcher) When the Queen has trouble giving birth and Viserys has to make a decision. Reader is mentioned and the King desperately begs her for help. Shee helps Queen Aemma even though everyone is against because they consider her a witch who will only bring misfortune to them. Our sorceress uses magic and potions to save the life of Viserys's child and wife. Daemon's brother as an act of thanks says that she can wish whatever she wants. So the reader chooses a dragon egg / wants to legally marry Deamon (it's up to you) Her decision is to strengthen the position of her lover (she really cares only about him) and, unknowingly, the king falls into her little, mingpulatory game.

AN:Hi, I hope you like it xx

NSFW

Requests are closed

“You won’t be hurt?” You whispered up at Daemon. Your hand moving up his chest as your worry settled in. Your lover took your hand before bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “I promise.” Daemon hummed, resting his head on yours. “And if I get hurt, I have you to look after me.” The Prince teased.

You weren’t impressed and only raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I won’t.” You hummed and stepped back. Daemon only smiled; knowing you spoke untruths as he placed his helmet on that you secretly thought was ridiculous. “A kiss for luck?” The Prince hummed as his hand moved to your hip once more.

“I suppose so.” You hummed and his hand gently cupped the back of your neck and brought you close. You didn’t notice the looks coming your way as his lips moved against yours and was soon becoming more passionate. “Brother.” You heard the voice of the King interrupt the moment and you moved from the Prince completely now.

If you were a more shy person; you would have blushed but all you did was deeply curtsy and left the two brothers. You clasped your hands behind your back and smirked to yourself at the whispers around you. They couldn’t touch you; you could destroy them with a mere thought if you desired.

The Princess seemed to be interested in you as her eyes kept moving towards you until the battles in front of her raged on. You enjoyed the blood being spilled a little too much as the fights continued. Your eyes hardened at the sight of the cockiness radiating from the knight who had beat your dragon.

“I guess the kiss wasn’t lucky.” You whispered to him as Daemon made his way to you with a pout on his face. “He’s a cheat and a coward.” Daemon mumbled and moved to burrow into your neck. “Poor baby.” You teased with a soft giggle but your eyes never moved from Ser Cole; he would have his punishment; you would make sure of it.

You softly whispered incantations in Daemon’s ear and before he knew it the bruises that would be forming slowly disappeared. “What would I do without you?” He purred into your ear and pressed a soft kiss to your jaw. “Burn.” You hummed before passionately capturing his soft lips with a giggle escaping you.

Daemon chuckled and pecked your lips again and again before leaning away. “I’ll go and clean up.” He squeezed your hand before leaving. Those eyes of yours never left Ser Cole as he spoke with the Princess whilst you could only narrow your eyes at him before stepping back into the shadows.

You would be needed soon. Your eyes turned towards the royal box that was quickly becoming empty. You could feel the mood shifting as you moved into the palace; your hands clasped behind your back. The paintings sitting on the large, marble walls had your attention as you looked them over.

You raised an eyebrow at the eroticness of them and couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. The moment of peace ended as an elderly man rushed towards you. A maester, you thought to yourself. “Lady Y/N.” He greeted you with a pant and you tried to not raise your eyebrow at the title. You were no Lady; if only they knew.

“Is there a problem?” You asked as if you didn’t already know but your eyes were large and innocent so they suspected anything. “Please. The King needs you.” There was no time for an explanation as you followed closely behind and through the many corridors to the messy sight that greeted you.

The Queen was screaming and there was blood everywhere. Nothing worse than you had seen before as your eyes moved over the room before they landed on Viserys. “Please…you have to help her.” He began to beg and you wondered what he had heard about you. You also wondered how everything seemingly fit into your plans.

“I’m not sure what you think I can do.” You spoke as a cry from the Queen echoed out and even the Maester and servants became worried and you knew they would have told him not to do this. There was always a price; not that you’d tell him this. “I know more than you think.” Viserys snapped back. 

You hummed and bowed your head; there was no reason to argue when you were going to help anyway. Your hand reached into the pocket of your cloak to bring out a vial. You heard movement and knew they didn’t trust you but there was nothing they could do if they wanted them both to live.

The Queen was nervous and you pitted her. “It’ll be okay.” You whispered down and slowly had her drink whilst you began to whisper a language nobody else in the room knew. Your eyes flashed gold as the wind began to pick up. The candles in the room burned higher as the cries settled down until a new cry entered the room.

Your own eyes fluttered for a moment as your nose began to bleed if only for a second as you turned away. The King was more interested in the son he had and his wife was still alive. You looked towards the Maester who only shook his head whilst you lent against the wall and fought against smirking.

You watched as they loved on each other for a moment before the King turned his sights on you. He slowly moved to take your hands, “Is there anything you want? You can have anything.” Viserys was near babbling and you tried to keep your eagerness from him as you softly spoke. “All I want is Daemon.” You whispered truthfully. 

You noticed the concerned look of the Maester but you knew the King would give you anything you wanted in that moment and he did. “Of course…you can legally marry him. You can even have a dragon egg.” Viserys babbled on as his hand left yours to quickly move back to his wife’s side.

Hmm, that was interesting and something you would need more on your side so you curtsied and pleasantly smiled. “Thank you, my King.” You whispered and your words dripped with honey that Viserys could only smile back like a fly trapped. The son he had now wouldn’t survive long; but enough for the King to change his succession. 

THAT NIGHT

Your soft breasts bounced as the moonlight moved into the shared private chambers of you and Daemon. “Oh gods..” You cried out; your eyes rolling in pleasure as his quick thrusts took your breath away. “Daemon..” You whimpered out; your hands moving to his chest as a smug smirk came over his face.

“Hmm, yes?” The Prince couldn’t help but tease as he tightened his hold on your hip. His free hand moved to your locks of hair and pulled. “Let me cum.” You whimpered out as you leaned down to brush your soft lips together. Those eyes of his had darkened in desire as you tightened around him.

“Do you deserve it?” Daemon whispered into your ear as his thrusts only quickened. The sounds of your wetness and bodies slapping together echoed around as you sweetly pant into his ear. “Yes..” You whimpered before passionately capturing his soft lips that muted your moans. 

“You didn’t tell me your plan.” Daemon reminded you as he grabbed a handful of your arse and brought you close. He moved deeper inside you, teasing your soft spot and for a moment you forgot how to speak. “It’s for you. A gift.” You babbled as he burrowed into your neck with a smirk on his face.

“Good girl.” He purred and gave you permission to fall apart as he fucked you harder through it. Everything was working out perfectly, you thought to yourself as you squirted around his cock and loudly cried out his name. His moans followed you as did his own release. His hot mouth moved to take your breast in once more.

TAGLIST

@janelongxox

@writerslove2403

@severewobblerlightdragon 

@lettherebrelight 

@heartysworld

@opheliax98

@bshelley322 

@casualheartadorable 

@kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@multifndom @7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa 

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@thekayarlene 

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@ivanna6026 

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@rosesinmars

@believeinthefireflies95

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Five times the Witchers learnt just how cat-like Aiden actually is

Biscuit making - Lambert

Lambert stared down at his friend, eyebrows raised in silent question as Aiden dozed lightly, plastered to Lambert so they were snuggled chest to chest in the small inn bed. He'd gotten used to Aiden purring in his sleep when the Cat witcher felt safe (and Lambert tried not to linger too long on how that made him feel) long ago but this…this was new.

The hands resting on Lambert's chest were rhythmically gripping and releasing the material of his shirt in tandem, the pinprick scratch of long, tougher than average fingernails just enough to feel through the fabric. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, in fact once he got used to it, when paired with the soft, barely audible purr it was actually quite relaxing.

Soon enough, Lambert found himself being pulled into sleep, either not caring or not realising that he himself had started letting out a steady stream of content rumbling of his own in response.

"Question for you, Cat."

Aiden didn't pause in lacing up his boots, "Ask away, Wolf."

"You know you were-" he clenched his fingers in imitation of the gesture, "I don't know - kneading - me last night?"

At that, Aiden did pause and Lambert had the feeling if he could blush he'd be bright red.

"I..shit. Sorry, I didn't even realise. I usually only do that around my siblings. I'll try to control it better."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. " Lambert bumped his shoulder lightly against Aiden's, "I was just curious is all. I don't give a shit what you do, short of stabbing me."

Lambert tried to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest as Aiden let out a tiny purr.

Jumpscare - Eskel

Eskel hummed to himself as he bought in the last of the vegetables from the greenhouses for pickling. Glad to see that Aiden was already in the kitchen setting everything up and was currently busy with a keg of brine. Things had been a bit tense to start with when his little brother had rolled up with a Cat of all people but Aiden had made it very hard to not like him. If nothing else, he was always more than willing to lend a hand with chores - always a bonus when your home was in a near constant state of disrepair.

"Alright." Eskel said, dumping one of the sacks out onto the stone countertop, "That's the last of this year's crop. If we work quickly we should be done by-"

He was interrupted by a yowl next to him and if Aiden was an actual cat, Eskel would be inclined to think somebody had just stepped on his tail. Whirling around he saw no sign of the other Witcher. Until he looked up just in time to see Aiden hauling himself up to fully perch on one of the rafters, glaring at Eskel's haul.

"Eh...Aiden?"

"Get those things away from me." The Cat hissed pointing accusingly.

Now Eskel was even more confused, all that was there was a perfectly innocent pile of….

"You mean these?" He held up one of the cucumbers, causing Aiden to growl low in his throat in response. Eskel hastily dropped it again, "Ok, ok. I'll put these away for now and we can work on the beetroot instead. Ok?"

Aiden nodded but still refused to leave his perch until the offending items had been shoved back into the sack and into a cupboard.

Soundlessly, he grabbed a knife and began to peel and chop the beetroot.

"Cat thing?"

"Cat thing."

Zoomies - Geralt

Geralt couldn't sleep. Again. He was nowhere near desperate enough to go down the Djinn route again but by the Gods it was starting to get annoying. He just wanted one night where his mind wouldn't keep throwing up scenarios where he failed his responsibilities to Ciri, Yen, Jaskier, his brothers…he was just one man for fucks sake.

He decided to go check on the animals, Eskel had mentioned that the fence on one of the goat pens could do with repairs but it was already getting dark by the time he'd noticed. It was on the list for the following morning but his brother would be heartbroken if any of them had gotten loose and hurt in the meantime.

Turns out Geralt wasn't the only one feeling restless. As he entered the courtyard he caught sight of a figure seemingly in the middle of running laps along the wall. Too lithe to be Eskel or Lambert, too tall to be Ciri, it had to be Aiden. Geralt stopped for a second, unsure why until he realised. Aiden was moving fast.. too fast to be running it safely in the dark and frost. Even for a Witcher, that could be a broken leg or concussion at least if he fell.

As if the Gods had been reading his thoughts, Aiden lost his footing and soundlessly tumbled down onto the cobbles of the courtyard, landing in a heap. Only to bounce back up immediately as if nothing had happened and continue running laps at ground level instead.

Geralt felt his brow furrow as he continued watching, what the fuck?

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Aiden had come to a stop in front of him, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and eyes darting around ceaselessly as he almost seemed to be vibrating in his own skin and using all of his self control to stay still and talk.

Geralt hummed in response before gesturing to the wall "You do that often?"

Aiden looked slightly sheepish as if he expected to be reprimanded, "Only a couple of times since I've been here. The mutagens. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to combust there and then if I don't move , for some reason it's worse at night. I think there was something meant to make us nocturnal, at least partially anyway. If I were on the path I'd go hunting or just go run pell mell in the woods for a bit. Doing that on an unfamiliar mountain didn't seem like the smartest thing though. I'm reckless, not suicidal."

Geralt huffed a laugh, "Well, don't let me stop you. Just don't make us find you lying out here with your skull cracked open in the morning."

Aiden gave a mock salute before going to mount the wall again, "Remind me to tell you about Cat Trials. Trust me, a fall from this is nothing. You could always run a couple of laps with me if you want? It's just, you look as if you could use something to tire you out too."

Geralt shrugged. At this point, why the fuck not?

Chirp - Jaskier

"Melitele's tits, it's cold. I mean, it. Is. COLD." Jaskier proclaimed as the two of them closed the door on the snow storm they'd just left, moving to hang his cloak and hood by the fire in the great hall, "I swear, if you and Lambert ever decide you're heading South for the winter I'm coming with you. Geralt can freeze his tits off up here alone, he'll survive. Unlike me. "

Aiden said nothing, although the bard had been around enough Witchers by now to know his companion was probably silently laughing at him as he removed his own cloak. Jaskier tsk'd at the snow clinging to Aiden's hair and moved to brush it out without thinking. The Cat let out a small but clearly audible "mrrrp" and momentarily pushed into the hand before he caught himself. He turned to face Jaskier, who was grinning at him like both Yule and his birthday had come early.

"Oh, well. That is just precious! " He exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly like a small child who's just been shown a magic trick, "Oh my dear, if all Cat Witchers make such adorable noises I may have a new favourite school. Do you all do that or is it just some of you? Purring's a given, every Witcher I've met purrs to some degree or other."

Aiden caught Coen's eye, the other Witcher flashing him a smirk which said 'You're on your own'

"That's it, I've decided! I'm making it my mission this winter to find out just how cat-like you are!"

"Do that and I'll hide your lute up in the rafters." Aiden said with no real heat, the Bard trailing after him asking questions about tables and glassware, distracted (for now) from the coldness of the Keep.

If I fits… - Vesemir

Vesemir basked in the quiet. There were perks to being one of the first ones to wake in the mornings. As much as he loved having his boys back safe and sound for the winter, after months alone the constant noise could become a little overwhelming at times, making these moments of quiet solitude all the more precious.

He made his way to the laundry room with an armful of bedding he'd found which probably hadn't been washed since the previous winter if the stale smell was anything to go by. No matter.

He quirked an eyebrow at the closed laundry hamper. He was certain he'd opened the lid earlier unless old age and senility were finally starting to get to him. Dumping the dirty sheets on the ground to free his hands he lifted the lid again.

And was greeted by Aiden blinking sleepily up at him, disturbed by the sudden brightness. Vesemir briefly took a moment to try and figure out what manner of contortion he'd used to cram himself into a space the boys had struggled to fit in even as adolescents before catching Aiden's eye. The two held eye contact as Aiden tilted his head in silent question, still half asleep. Vesemir wordlessly lowered the lid again in response before walking away shaking his head. It was too early for his boy's antics.