#witchering escapades

[witchering-escapades]

𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯' 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳 - 𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

[ilikebigants]

New headcannon: most Witchers don't have a lot of sex. The rumour that Witchers are really sexually active was started due to Vesemir's slut era and was solidified due to Geralt's escapades.

Everyone else has depression and can't get it up

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Punish You With Pleasure (Pleasure You With Pain)

A/N: happy belated birthday @moodymelanist! This is a super late gift, but hopefully the absolutely filthy smut will make up for it. And hoo boy is it filthy! 😉 I know this is a crackship and not everyone's cup of tea, so this is your friendly reminder to simply don't read if you don't like. Also, the consent in this fic is a bit dubious so please read with care! Special shout out to @witch-and-her-witcher for reading this for me and assuring me it was the right side of insane

Read on AO3

Five hundred gold marks.

She'd spent five hundred gold marks on her little escapade the previous night.

He'd seen the way Feyre's eyes would go distant mid-paint stroke sometimes. The way she'd start to wring her fingers together and worry at her bottom lip as her thoughts trailed to her eldest sister. He'd seen the dark circles that clung to the skin beneath Cassian's eyes even well after they'd returned home to peace. He knew his brother was almost constantly perched on that rooftop, praying to the Mother and the Cauldron for anything other than another rejection from a female who clearly never thought twice about him. Rhys had to order him away to Illyria just so his brother might finally get some sleep.

But Feyre's expression this morning when the bill from the previous night arrived had been the final straw. Those soft blue eyes he loved so much had misted over, heat creeping up her neck in shame, as she started forlornly down at her breakfast. A single tear had slipped down across her cheek and into her eggs.

Rhys had been done then. Done with his family hurting. Done with the cause being this cruel, stubborn, selfish female. This is his Court, his city, and he won't allow for this to go on any longer. He intends to put Nesta Archeron in her place.

He can't remember the last time he's been to this part of Velaris. Many of the cobblestones beneath his shoes are cracked, some even fully broken or missing. Paint chips and peels off many of the buildings, but it doesn't stop any of the taverns lining the streets. Doesn't stop the patrons entering their doors or stumbling out of them.

The unfortunate building Nesta Archeron has chosen as a home is as unassuming as it is rundown. Dull gray stone and broken shutters line the outside, and as Rhys steps through the doors, it's rickety stairs that greets him. He follows them up to the third floor, his feet carrying him down the winding hall.

There's a distinct scent that seems to permeate the whole space around him. Stale alcohol. Food gone bad. Unbathed residents. Rhys can't help but grimace, can't help but turn his nose up to that scent, to all the grime that seems to bleed from the walls. He'll certainly need a long soak after this, and almost instinctively, his fingers move to his sleeve, picking and brushing at the fabric.

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the door at the end of the hall. Nothing of note either. Old nails in the wood may have held up rusted numbers or letters at some point, but not any longer. Raising his fist, Rhys knocks twice, hard and curt, against the wood. There’s rustling on the other side, the slide of locks, and then the door pulls open, Nesta Archeron standing before him.

She has on some male’s shirt, but judging by the scent behind her, or lack thereof, whoever was in the apartment is long gone now. She’s barely bothered to do up the few buttons at the bottom of the shirt. It leaves a deep v of skin exposed and on full display. The expanse of her collarbones, down through the valley of her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Dark circles cling to the pallor skin beneath her eyes, but they’re still a piercing, stormy blue, still narrowed in a glare in greeting.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Nesta sneers, her appearance doing nothing to damper the bite to her tone.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Rhys asks coolly instead of answering.

“No.”

Nesta tries to slam the door in his face, but Rhys is quicker. His hand shoots out, catching the wood and stopping its momentum with ease. It doesn't take much effort to force the door open again, to shoulder his way past Nesta and into her apartment. The lingering scents of males is especially potent inside, a mingled, stale mix of sweat and sex. Rhys doesn't bother swallowing down his blatant sniff nor his frown, reveling in the way Nesta's gaze hardens even more at the reaction.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands again, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture only draws further emphasis to the swell of her breasts, threatening to send them spilling through the opening in the shirt she wears.

Rhys tears his gaze away from her, eying the bedroom and the rumbled sheets he can see through the open doorway instead. “Company left already? Perhaps consider washing your sheets. I’m sure the scent of revolving males is quite off putting and would send any sane male running.”

“Fuck you,” Nesta seethes, practically snarling as she spits the words at him.

“And what number male was that last night? Or have you already lost track?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Rhys chuckles darkly, stepping closer to her again and using the few inches he has on her to look down and offer a smile that’s all teeth. “It is when it’s in my city.”

For her credit, Nesta doesn’t allow the proximity or his height to cow her. She holds her ground, raising her chin defiantly. “I didn’t realize that was part of your job description, keeping tabs on all the fucking that happens. That must be exhausting.”

“If I were you, I’d keep that smart mouth of yours closed.”

“And if I were you, I’d get out of my apartment,” Nesta fires back, gesturing toward the door.

“Yours? Did you forget who pays the rent for this shit hole?” Rhys chuckles dryly, making his disgust clear as he pointedly looks around. When he finally meets Nesta’s gaze again, her hands are clenched into fists, that defiance burning as bright as the flames he knows skitter just beneath her skin. “Although, clearly you have no issue with whose money you’re spending considering what you spent last night.”

The barest hint of a smirk tugs up the corner of Nesta’s lips. “What can I say? All the bar patrons were all too happy to raise a toast to their High Lord when they heard drinks were on him.”

“Do you think this is a joke? You spent five hundred gold marks last night!”

“Only five hundred?”

The growl is escaping the back of Rhys’s throat before he can stop it. “Do you take joy in being a selfish bitch?”

“Does it get you off playing big, bad High Lord? I’m sure Feyre loves this little act.”

“Don’t speak about your sister, your High Lady, that way.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “So much talk, and yet I’m not seeing any sort of action.”

Rhys surges forward, his hand coming up between them to grasp at her jaw, to hold her in place while he glares and seethes at her face. He can feel her pulse just beneath his fingers, the way it flutters and stutters, but it’s not fear burning in those blue eyes.

“You want to see action? Give me a reason. I dare you. You will speak of your sister with respect. You will speak to me with respect.”

“What are you? My father?”

Rhys realizes too late how close they’re standing. Realizes too late that her already kiss bitten lips are parted as she stares up at him beneath long lashes. Realizes too late that her full breasts are pressed firmly against his chest, peaked nipples noticeable even through the two layers of fabric between them. Realizes too late the way his cock twitches in interest at this turn of events, this turn in the conversation.

“Really? Does that get you off? Do you want me to call you Daddy?”

Despite her taunting words, the sweet scent of her arousal permeates the air, swirling around him and flooding his senses. The magic deep within his chest thrums to life, rising in interest to meet the well of power stolen from the Cauldron itself. He squeezes his hand a bit tighter, relishing in the way Nesta’s breath catches, the way her eyes flutter, casting piercing blue in shadow as her eyelashes kiss her cheeks.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Rhys warns lowly, even as he shifts his hand enough that he can drag the pad of his thumb across her lips.

“I’m quite confident the only person’s ability to finish currently in question is yours.”

“There’s that smart mouth again. How about we put it to better use.”

Rhys slides his hand down, the tips of his fingers grazing across the skin of her neck. He can feel the shiver that skitters up her spine at the touch, the goosebumps that pebble beneath. His fingers continue down to her collarbone, following the delicate line all the way to her shoulder. It doesn’t take much pressure for him to push her down to the floor, her legs spreading wide to hold her weight comfortably.

In this position, Rhys has a perfect view to leer down the front of Nesta’s shirt. He can see the large swell of her breasts and pink peaked nipples perfectly, can watch the way they heave with each panting breath that tumbles past her parted lips. And just beyond, he can see the dusting of dark curls begging for his touch, for his cock.

As if sensing where his thoughts have gone, Nesta’s eyes dance to the growing tent in the front of his pants. Already his cock is hard and straining against the laces and fabric, his blood heating with every passing second. The sight of Nesta licking her lips forces him to swallow down a groan. The stubborn, eldest Archeron. The Kingslayer. The female who sneered at every High Lord when they all gathered.

“Now, that’s much better. On your knees before your High Lord,” Rhys comments, slowly but surely untying the laces of his pants. He tugs his cock free, fisting it and spreading the precum pooled at the tip down the length of it. Nesta tracks the movement, and Rhys smirks at the reaction. “Is this what you want?”

Nesta looks at him through her eyelashes, nodding her head. The scent of her arousal becomes stronger, headier, the female clearly as turned on as he is. He can already imagine how she must be dripping down her thighs, but the shirt still hides that from view. Because he can, Rhys uses his free hand and tugs hard at the offending thing, wanting to hear the buttons clattering against the wood, the feel of fabric tearing beneath his grip, rather than magicing it away.

The sight presented before him is certainly worth it, and he half wonders if he should fuck her tits instead.

“Open,” Rhys demands coldly, letting a low rumble of his power to bleed into his tone. Almost on cue, Nesta’s lips part wider, her tongue pressing forward in waiting. “Well, would you look at that. You can behave after all.”

Before Nesta can respond or get another remark out, Rhys presses his cock forward into the wet heat of her mouth. He’s not gentle about it, feeding her half his length in one crude thrust until he hits the back of her throat. She chokes around him, but then she’s moaning, the vibration paired with her throat working and swallowing around him finally pulling a groan free from his chest.

Her tongue laves at the underside of his cock, the tip flicking and catching on the ridge of the head as he pulls back only to push right back in. He digs a hand in her hair, threading the brassy strands around his fingers and tugging hard. It pulls another choked, spluttering moan from Nesta, and Rhys using his grip to begin fucking her mouth in earnest. With each hard snap of his hips, he tries to feed her even more of his cock, to bury himself deeper down her throat.

“You know, your mouth is much sweeter when it’s stuffed full of cock instead of mouthing off.”

Nesta blinks up at him with watery eyes as he continues to move. Tears track down her cheeks, mixing with the drool that spills past her lips and splashing across her chest. There’s a pretty, pink flush spread across the skin there, matching the color of her cheeks. Even with the wide stretch of her lips around him, she hollows those same cheeks.

“Fuck,” Rhys groans, pleasure buzzing through his veins and threatening to send him teetering over the edge quicker than he’d prefer.

He pulls out of her mouth with a wet pop, a line of drool still connecting them. He watches the way Nesta swallows, the way she licks her lips now swollen and red from sucking his cock. Her eyes are glassy as she peers up at him, but that fire still burns behind the blue of them.

“Close already?” Nesta asks, the taunt still clear despite the rasp of her voice. “That’s disappointing.”

With a growl, Rhys uses the grip he still has on her hair to yank her to her feet, the rest of her shirt falling away with the movement. He doesn’t bother with the bedroom, with the rumpled sheets and the ghosts of males embedded within the fabric. Instead, he spins Nesta around and pushes her against the ragged, fraying sofa that takes up space in her sorry excuse for a living room.

“So much hatred,” Rhys comments, using his feet to kick her legs further apart. He presses himself along her spine, curling an arm around her. He slides his hand down her chest, down her stomach, all the way down until he finds the lips of her cunt already slick and fluttering from the barest of touches. “And yet you’re already drenched for me.”

He keeps his touch light, drawing the tips of his fingers back and forth. When he reaches her clit, he draws the barest hint of a circle against it before pulling away again. A high pitched sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper tumbles past Nesta's lips, and she tries to shift her hips down, chasing the pressure, but he keeps her firmly pinned in place.

“Beg for it,” Rhys tells her, teasing at her entrance in a promise of the pressure to come and gathering the wetness there between his fingers.

Nesta moans softly, her hips stuttering again, but she turns her head over her shoulder enough to still glare at him. “You know you want to fuck me, so just do it already.”

“And yet you’re the one with your legs spread and desperate for me,” Rhys reminds her, skimming over her clit again, her cunt fluttering beneath his ministrations as if in agreement of his words. “Beg for it. And maybe I’ll be a generous High Lord and give it to you.”

Nesta huffs, turning her head back around and dropping it down between her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but Rhys is confident that her stubborn will won’t win out this time. He continues his teasing and taunting touches, daring to slip and press just the pad of his finger past her entrance.

“I’m waiting…”

“Please,” Nesta finally whispers. “Please. I need it.”

“That’s more like it.”

Rhys wastes no time sinking two fingers into her cunt, hard and deep. Nesta lets out a loud moan at the sudden intrusion, slumping forward even more against the sofa. Her cunt is warm and wet, practically inviting him in with the way it seems to pull his fingers even deeper, the way her walls flutter and clench around them. He drives his fingers in a rough, fast pace, scissoring and curling them. Every wanton sound he draws out of the female before him goes straight to his cock, his length somehow hardening even more.

“All these males in and out of here, and have you ever even been properly fucked? You’re so tight.”

“Fuck,” Nesta gasps out between moans. “You.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’ll show you what it’s like to take a real male’s cock.”

Rhys curls his fingers, finding that spot within her that has Nesta keening, has her back arching with the pleasure. Already, her skin has started to glisten, beads of moisture beginning to pool along her spine. Pressed this close together, her sweet scent engulfs him, making him dizzy. It drives him to work his fingers harder. To squeeze in a third finger. To press his thumb hard to her clit.

Every slide of his fingers is wet and hard. Each forceful thrust in sends Nesta’s hips jostling against the back of the sofa, and each time he drives his fingers back out, more of her arousal is drawn out too. It makes a mess of his hand, slicking between his fingers. Leaves the wet sounds of sex echoing through the apartment, a perfect harmony to the melody of Nesta’s moans.

He can tell she’s close from the way she starts to squeeze tighter around his fingers, her walls fluttering and pulsing in a steady pace. From the way her keens grow into a higher, breathier pitch. Her fists clench hard into the fabric of the sofa, and Rhys uses that exact moment to withdraw his hand completely.

“Please,” Nesta whispers again, letting out what sounds almost like a sob. It’s broken and needy, and Rhys’s cock twitches again in interest. “Please…”

“You forget that this is a punishment.” Rhys lifts his hand toward her face, dragging his fingers and her own arousal across her lips. “Clean them.”

Nesta dutifully sucks his fingers into her mouth, sliding her tongue around each digit. She moans around them, around the taste of herself, and Rhys presses his fingers even deeper, until she’s gagging against his touch. He slips his fingers free, but he doesn’t pull them far. Instead he grips her jaw, still sticky, wet fingertips digging into her skin. He yanks her face to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are unfocused, the blue of them swallowed by her pupils in their blown out, lust addled state.

“But this is what you want, isn’t it?” Rhys asks in a mocking tone. “You like to be punished, to be put in your place.”

He releases his hold on her with enough force that Nesta’s head merely sags back between her shoulders. Rhys knows that he could leave her just like this, desperate and keyed up and wanting. Knows that it would be punishment enough. He knows that he should leave her just like this, a voice tickling along the back of his mind to remind him of such.

But his own desire and need is a throbbing and wanting thing writhing inside his chest. Her cunt is the prettiest shade of pink, still fluttering and pulsing from his previous ministrations, practically begging for him to take take take. His power rumbles beneath his skin and echoes the chant, and Rhys slides a tantalizing hand down her spine, Nesta arching even more beneath his touch.

“Take it,” Nesta breathes softly as though reading his own thoughts. “Take me.”

Rhys focuses his attention back on his pants, tugging them further down his hips. He fists his cocks again, the pump of his hand already providing some relief for the ache burning low in his gut. He slides the head of his cock along her, gathering the wetness there and spreading it down the length of him. Nesta shudders and moans each time his cockhead catches on her clit, trying to rock further against him, and while the temptation to make her beg again is there, Rhys isn’t sure he’ll be able to wait much longer. For once, he wants to be selfish, and who better to be selfish with than the most selfish female he’s ever met.

He shifts his free hand to grip her hip, to hold her in place exactly how he wants her, and then he buries his cock inside her in one hard, clean thrust. The warmth and squeeze of her around him is indescribable, a groan escaping his clenched jaw. He can’t stop staring at where they’re joined. Can’t stop staring at the way her cunt opens for him, the way it swallows him.

“Rhysand,” Nesta’s voice brings him back to the present. “Move.”

“You’re the one who’s so desperate for cock. So you can fuck yourself on mine.”

Nesta whimpers at his harsh words, but there’s no denying the way she clenches down harder around him, the way her walls flutter still adjusting to his size. She spreads her legs wider, resetting her stance, and then she starts to move her hips. With the limited space between the sofa and Rhys’s body, she can do nothing but create shallow thrusts, but even still her sweet cunt somehow pulls Rhys even deeper, the drag of her walls enough that he has to tighten his grip against her hip.

He allows her control for just a few more thrusts before taking it back with a hard snap of his hips. He sets a punishing pace, his hand sliding up her back and shoving her down hard until she’s bent in half over the sofa. His hand traces along her shoulder, down her arm to her wrist. It takes some maneuvering around the way their bodies jostle with each rough thrust, but he’s able to move her hand down to her own cunt, move it so he’s fucking through her splayed fingers.

“Do you feel that?” Rhys growls out, his voice barely audible over the moans and cries of the female beneath him. “Do you feel how drenched you are for me? Feel how well you take your High Lord’s cock?”

He leaves her hand there and shifts his own to her breasts. They overflow in his palms, heavy and bouncing as he continues to fuck her hard. He pinches and tugs at her nipples, relishing in the way her cunt seems to respond each time he does. It doesn’t take long before Nesta begins to tighten even more around him on each inward thrust, before she’s practically trembling against him, clearly teetering right on that edge.

“Do you want to come?” Rhys teases one hand down just past her navel but no further. “Scream my name. Let all of Velaris know how good their High Lord is. And maybe I’ll be generous and fill you up.”

Nesta is all too happy to oblige, shouting his name until she’s practically hoarse between her choked off moans and high pitched whines. Rhys finally slips his hand lower and spreads her wider still. Her clit is slippery and swollen, and it only takes a few swipes of the pad of his fingers before Nesta is wailing brokenly, her whole body tensing as she finds her release.

Feeling her coming on his cock, the way she clamps around him, steals the breath straight from Rhys’s lungs. Despite the tightness of her still fluttering and pulsing cunt, Rhys doubles his efforts, fucking in harder and deeper and chasing his own release. His balls slap against her skin, filling the apartment and mixing with the sounds of his own grunts and Nesta’s whimpers.

“It’s… it’s too much…”

“You can take it,” Rhys tells her harshly, not stopping his movements. “I know you can take it. Don’t you want me to fill you up? Fill you up nice and deep until you’ll be dripping for days. Until every male in this city will know whose bitch you really are. Until you’ll always remember this cock.”

Nesta lets out another sob as another orgasm tears through her unbidden, clenching so hard that Rhys sees stars. He groans and buries himself as deep as he can go, his cock twitching as he spills inside her. He offers a few more shallow thrusts, riding out the last tendrils of his own release and taking a final moment to relish in the tight heat of Nesta’s still fluttering cunt.

She whimpers when he pulls his softening cock out, slumping against the sofa in a boneless heap. Rhys can’t help but fist his cock again, dragging the head through the absolute mess he’s made of her cunt. He gathers his seed that starts to dribble out of her, shallowing forcing it right back where it belongs, chuckling darkly at the way her knees give out at the action, the way she shudders.

“Perhaps now, you’ll remember your place in this Court,” Rhys whispers in her ear, both a threat and a promise.

He straightens back to his full height, carefully tucking himself back into his pants and tugging the cuffs of his sleeves back into place. He offers Nesta Archeron one last look, the female still naked and unmoving save for her still gasping breaths against the sofa, before turning and striding toward the door.

“I expect to see you at the next family dinner.”

[olderthannetfic]

Escapade Dance Party 2023 Writeup 3/3

Second Half

Jaskier has no more fucks to give by Gondolin AMV

Obviously, having just shown the other Witcher, I had to open with the more familiar one.

Vids under 2 minutes also aren't actually danceable no matter the tempo, so this makes a good upbeat intro to a section.

Grandmaster of Troublemaking (The Untamed) by NKZephyr Edits

I love the enthusiasm and goofiness of this vid.

Goncharov (1973) | Read the description! by Etoile

Come on, we had to have Goncharov!

TBH, there were other vids, but basically none of them were danceable.

【HIStory3-圈套】On a daily by Nerjaveika

Trapped's moment seems to have passed, but the combination of great use of text and this fun song made this one a perfect fit.

Ego | AMV | Mo dao zu shi & Heaven Official's Blessing (CC Lyrics) by Nitisha Donghua Productions

I was more looking for Heaven Official's Blessing alone, but most of the options I was finding weren't really danceable. I love this song and was looking for a vid to it anyway.

trouble in my head | lan jue & zhang ping | a league of nobleman by Victoria

I have no clue what this is. I probably found it in the sidebar while searching something else, but it's such a pretty vid.

История Бай Ци (AU, Bai Qi/Shen Zui) by Kemriko

What is this? Who knows. I liked it, and it was m/m, so people got to watch it.

BTS Jhope • Gasolina• |FMV|• by kookie taex

In a concession to how many people the previous song would inevitably chase from the dance floor, I wanted to follow it with something much more booty-shaking. I fucking love Gasolina and am always looking for more vids to it. Tragically, a lot of English-speaking vidding fandom has No Taste and does not vid this kind of music.

Yes, this is a vertical vid of J-Hope dancing to Daddy Yankee. No regrets!

Мания Хирото by Fausthaus

Ah, my favorite source of vids: Russian fandom combats. Are they on AO3? Yes. Have English speakers gone anywhere near their vast stores of battshit content? No, absolutely not.

No one at the con, including me, knows anything about this fandom. Too bad. The music is great, and I wanted to dance to it.

Отступники by fandom Vampires of Central Russia 2021

This is another fandom I spotted in the fandom combats. The vid is shorter than I'd normally show, but I wanted to showcase this interesting vampire fandom that I didn't think most people at Escapade had heard of yet.

Sex and Violence by bironic

Another one breaking my rules. Nandermo was a must-have for a vampire-themed year, but mockumentaries are shot like ass on purpose, and that makes them hard to vid, so my options were limited. Bironic's always a sure thing, if not exactly obscure to an Escapade audience.

Sadly, the embed seems to be dead at the moment.

Sex Drive by Franzeska

Yes, I will always play my own vids when I need to fill a hole in a playlist.

Night Watch was such a passion of mine for a while and the source of my ill-fated attempt to learn Russian. I always meant to go back and add text to this vid to echo the weird subtitles they did for the movie, but I never got around to it. Oh well.

【盾冬衍生】no body no crime 黑暗爽文利刃出鞘兰森/我们一直住在城堡里表哥 by 蜜桃奶霉包

Batshit AUs are my favorite. When I found this, I knew I had to inflict it on everyone.

The Hunger - Say Yes To Heaven by themaybatatter

I had a long list of vampire fandoms, most of which I never did find a vid for, but The Hunger was at the absolute top of my list. After scouring the internet, this was the only arguably danceable vid I could come up with and one of the few in general. What the hell, internet? What the hell?!

“你不了解你的妻子，我吻过她” by 没饭呲了

This would be a lot more danceable if it weren't quite so plastered with show audio… but too bad. As usual, sufficiently horny femslash gets an automatic pass. Everyone swayed vaguely on the edges of the dance floor staring, so I still consider it a success.

【巍澜】这可是极限拉扯的鼻祖！！！ by 甜飞惹

Guardian is another fandom where I'm spoiled for choice, but the Chinese vidders do like to include an awful lot of dialogue. This vid stood out for great dance party music and no audio clips.

Morpheus & Hob | The Night We Met by WolfPhoenixWriter

A lot of people were into Sandman this year. I liked this vid for making me feel a lot of feelings despite never having seen the show and barely remembering the comic.

It's a bit slow dance for Escapade, but I loved the emotion in the song too much to not include it.

Boyfriend | FMV | Yan Wei X Xu YouYi by Nitisha Donghua Productions

I guess this was my horny femslash year.

Lee Soo Hyuk - Gwi (Scholar Who Walks the Night) Savage by Serendipity

What's this? Dunno, but it's got a vampire and this great song.

The Monster by frayadjacent

This one was pure self-indulgence on my part. It was made for a con by a vidder everybody knows, but the vidder felt it required too many content warnings and didn't send it in the end. I, however, reserve the end of the dance party to show more content warnings-heavy things if I feel like it. I despise how fandom has turned into a "compromise" where anything that reaches into my soul is never on the table while pabulum always is. Fuck that. I am the arbiter of what's normal.

This vid lit me up in places I'd forgotten.

Ahs Hotel :| Tear you Apart by xxxxxx

This song was used in the show and there are a billion vids to it, but this one is far better than the others aside from how it just cuts off.

AHS isn't a fandom most at the con are in, but I just had to include its vampire season.

A Shot for the Pain by Franzeska

I honestly did go looking for other Penny Dreadful vids. Sadly, the selection was not impressive, and most of it was not to anything danceable, let alone goth club-appropriate music.

【拔杯|暗黑慎入】你是我奇怪的瘾症 by 两只阿夏跑不快

I've seen a lot of Hannibal vids. Almost all of them are gross. Few are as interestingly edited as this one.

Twilight Zone by hmmyeahokay

Okay, this one is a massive blast from the past. Do people outside of Highlander fandom even remember this bad 2001 movie?

I loved the song, and I appreciated that there was a black lead. That and vampires trump the fact that it's a het vid (ish).

Supernatural ►Cry Little Sister by Gwen

I scoured Youtube for vids to this song. I thought this was a particularly interesting take out of the extensive genre of horror set to Cry Little Sister. (No, seriously, it's a genre.)

【荣耀向我俯首｜kinnporsche】没长出恋爱脑前的少爷们怎么能错过这首BGM by 旧城与笙Zz

Kinnporsche hit big this year. I wanted a really fantastic vid that people hadn't seen. I love that this one is by a Chinese vidder (probably) to a French song.

Sadly no longer online, probably for being of a horny BL series and posted on a Chinese site

Kingdom come by fandom ATEEZ 2022

Okay, ATEEZ isn't a big fandom at the con, but this vid is some sort of kink AU, and I'm always weak for that. It's also to a Taylor song everybody loves.

Last of the Real Ones by colls

I cheated again and included a well-known vidder, but do you know how hard it is to find stormpilot vids? Kylux has like eight billion genius animatics and fan art vids. Finnpoe? Bupkis!

I don't know if people still care about this part of Star Wars, but all of the Bandom trash immediately rushed the dance floor when the song started playing.

louis & lestat | take my breath away (interview with the vampire) by ScribbledDreaming

I have ended with this song before, with finnpoe in fact, so that's a little in-joke for myself.

What better way to end the vampire party than the new IWTV and the most over-the-top vid I could find?

[honeywitchers]

Awful Plan, Great Result

A/N:  This is from another one of my blogs that I decided to seperate my Witcher content from.  I plan on deleting the original from that blog so if you have seen this before under a different name I promise I didn’t steal the story!  This piece was inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Content and Warnings:  Strong language, love sick Geralt, foggy brained Geralt just wanting to be loved, guy in an all green outfit thinking he can take on a witcher, violence because Geralt has had enough, soaking wet Geralt, love confessions, if you squint during the fight scene it might morph into Fiona fighting off the bandits in Shrek, wee bit of blood because bitches get stitches

Word Count:  2,934

Summary:  Geralt of Rivia finds himself to be hopelessly in love with a soft spirited cottage dwelling woman.  How does he confess his true feelings for her when he doesn’t even fully understand his own emotions?  In quite possibly the strangest, yet most fitting way he could.

She was beauty.  She was not just beautiful, she was the very definition of it.  Even her breathing was filled with elegance.  Her smooth skin mimicked the finest of silks that only royalty could ever imagine to afford.  The way her hair complimented the tones within her face was almost unreal.  Her features appeared cheerful almost always, no matter the situation, positivity leaking from each and every pore…..so why and how was it possible that a man like Geralt of Rivia could fall for her?  He was the complete and utter opposite; rugged, rough skinned, quiet, constantly thinking of the dangers that fill the Continent, often dirty, and skilled in combat.  Yet, despite all of this, she was the very sun in his sky, the stars to his moon, the flower to his soil, the…..you get the idea.  The problem with this, however, was that she had not a single clue that he felt this way for her, completely oblivious to his undying love for her.  All they seemed to be at this point were oblivious, emotionally constipated, and…….idiots.  Complete idiots.  Any onlooker could see that this was not a simply platonic relationship.  Come on, the two were living together!  And they had been for almost a year now!  So anyways, here we are.  The ever so odd tale of Geralt of Rivia and his……roommate.

The spotless wooden dining table Geralt had taken a seat at within Y/N’s cottage kitchen was almost buckling underneath his mass and the weight of his bulky armor.  The dirt covering his arms and legs were surely destroying the cleanliness of it.  He had just returned from a hunt that turned out to be a large group of villagers playing a trick just so they could get a chance at seeing the witcher in action.  Geralt quickly realized this but not before he lost his footing and tripped over a partially buried root in the forest, rolling down a long and bumpy hill.  Way to add insult to injury, universe.  

Quietly grumbling curses under his breath, he did his best not to disturb the cheerful humming of Y/N, who was chopping up carrots for a stew she planned to make.  Or more so attempting.  The blade on the knife was terribly dull.  Her cooking escapades had clearly taken a toll on the tool.  It was all she had, so she had to make it work.  Although, Geralt couldn’t help but find the sight amusing.  Geralt’s eyes blinked rapidly and his posture straightened as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head.  That’s it!  He knows how he will profess his love!  This is quite possibly the most romantic action a witcher could do!  He suddenly stood from the table with determination, almost a little too fast, startling Y/N.

“Where are you going?  You just got back.”  Y/N questioned Geralt as he made his way to the door.

“I uh….need to go into town.  I….forgot something.”  He pathetically tried to come up with an excuse to hide his true intentions.  

Before another word can leave Y/N’s mouth, Geralt was out the door and on his way to who knows where.  She shrugged her shoulders and continued to shred—cut the vegetables on her cutting board.  

Geralt loved and hated the fact that her cottage was practically in the middle of nowhere.  It left them unbothered and with privacy but he still found himself annoyed that he had to trek through a grove and winding dirt paths just to get into town.  He chuckled lightly as he came across a root hiding in the ground of his walking path.

“Hmm….not this time.”

Less than ten minutes later, Geralt began to approach a river.  He was getting close.  

“Thank the gods it’s not raining.”  He said to himself.

The universe, being the absolute pain in Geralt’s ass, decided that sunshine and no rain was much too easy for the dear witcher.  Why not throw a……minor?  Yes, minor inconvenience his way, instead of allowing him to just walk his way into town and back smoothly.  No, no, that would not do.  

“Behold, witcher man!  For I am Wulfgar, and I am here to take your coin!”  A loud, high pitched male voice yelled out.

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed and he turned around in the direction of the voice.  What he sees is not what he was expecting.  Standing ten feet before him stood a short statured man donning a green tunic and matching pants that were just a smidge too tight.  A green pointed hat sat upon his bowl cut hair.  A fashion expert, honestly.

Pointed towards Geralt was his embarrassingly small silver dagger.  Confidence somehow oozed out of the mysterious bandit as he chose to lunge forward without strategy or thought.  Because of the overwhelming bewilderment the witcher was experiencing, he jumped backwards just a hair too slow, resulting in the coin pouch at his hip being slashed open.  Just as luck would have it, half of his coins were dumped into the river.  Geralt grunted and unsheathed his sword, four times the size of the measly dagger Wulfgar wielded.  

“Back off.”  Geralt warned.

“Uh, uh….I…..I mean no harm, witcher.  It’s….just a tough time, you know?  So um…anyway…..please don’t um…..KILL ME!!!!!!!!”  Wulfgar stammered and ran away.

“I uh….okay.”  Geralt rolled his eyes and put his sword back into its holder.  “Fuck!”  He reached down to his coin pouch, coins were still slowly spilling out onto the ground.  Like a beggar, he scoured the ground to pick up and salvage every last one.

Geralt considered turning back but brushed the thought off, knowing he couldn’t show up back at the cottage empty handed after he told Y/N he was going out.  That wouldn’t make sense and it would only lead to more questions that he wasn’t currently prepared to answer.  Instead, he began to think about how much of an idiot he was for believing this could work.  Of course Y/N would never love him.  He couldn’t even do this one self appointed task.  Useless.  

“Fuck.”  Having a way with words, he cursed and treaded forward, feeling light raindrops begin to hit his skin and dampen his hair.  What else could go wrong?

A short time later a now drenched Geralt waltzes into town square.  The place is growing more and more quiet as he notices people rushing inside and merchants packing up the items at their stalls to avoid the increasing rain.  Fearing that he missed his chance to come up with anything, he sprints towards the last remaining merchant.  

“Wait!”  He shouted.  

The merchant looked up to him, eyes widening at his appearance.  “Sorry, the rain is bringing all of us in for the day.  Come back tomorrow.”  The merchant went to turn away and continue packing without giving Geralt a second thought.

“Please, just….show me what you have.”  Geralt pleaded with the man, hoping there is at least one item that even remotely resembled what he was looking for.

The merchant’s eyes narrowed and he stared in silence for a moment.  “Witchers pay double.”  He crossed his arms and stood firm.

Of course, because that’s exactly what he needed to hear after losing half of his wealth to the murky fast flowing waters of the river.

“Fine.”  Geralt gritted his teeth, ready for the excursion to be over.

The merchant moved aside so Geralt could look at what his options were.  His eyes examined the items laid out in front of him.  There were four rolls of twine, a mysterious piece of cloth that appeared to have been white at some point during its existence, two cabbage heads that had been massacred by the wind and rain, rendering them inedible, and…..a knife!  Just what he was looking for!  A perfect kitchen knife to aid his one true love with her cooking!  She shall never fret or strain her wrist again!  He would wrap it in the softest of cloths and bend on one knee, hand stretched out, ready to release all of his pent up emotions and—

He realized it was in fact not a kitchen knife, but a dagger.  A deep sigh escaped the witcher.  It was a slightly rusted short dagger that was surely made for simple combat.  A.k.a not something he originally planned on giving his soft ray of sunshine back at home to help her cook.

“How much coin for this?”  Geralt held up the so-called weapon.

The merchant eyes his torn coin pouch.  “Whatever you’ve got left.”

And so goes the last of his coin.

On his way back to Y/N’s cottage, Geralt is in a constant battle with his thoughts, telling himself over and over that he should not have gone out, how he wasn’t worthy of her love, how she could do so much better than him.  How could he think it was a good idea to bring her a dagger that she didn’t need or even ask for?  Especially one in a not so tip top shape condition.  

Naturally, his one person conversation is interrupted by none other than…..Wulfgar.

“Now, witcher!”  Wulfgar shouted.  “I’ve got friends this time!  And they have bigger swords than I!  You will come to regret the last hour, mutant.  You should have simply given me your coin!”  

Three of the humans making up Wulfgar’s makeshift army came up behind Geralt in an attempted sneak attack and managed to snag the one sword he brought along with him, having left the other behind to be sharpened later on in the day.  The witcher positioned himself into a defensive stance, looking at his surroundings.  He counted six men in the group, all funnily enough sporting the same puke green outfits like they were part of some wannabe cult.  The only thing left that he had besides his fists and signs to defend himself against the five swords and Wulfgar’s short stub was…..the dagger.  

First, he fought off the three men who took his sword, one jumping on his back and immediately being thrown onto the ground, the second being knocked unconscious with a single punch.  He took out the third using the Aard sign, knocking him against a tree.  Two more men came running at him, swinging their swords haphazardly through the air, praying that one of them would draw blood from the witcher.  The men however were very much unaware of their….lacking skills and were disarmed easily and knocked out.  

Geralt then turned to Wulfgar, the last man standing.  He was practically shaking in his boots, having just watched all of his friends fail miserably at taking down the witcher.  After a moment, he bends down and picks up two of the swords left on the ground.  He lunged forward again and this time nicked Geralt’s face, also slicing off a thin piece of leather covering his shoulder for extra protection.  He looked to the side at his ruined shoulder piece and looked back at Wulfgar.  He stepped forward slowly with an intimidating aura bouncing off of him.  Wulfgar was stopped dead in his tracks in disbelief that he just made contact with the witcher.  With one swift motion, Geralt swipes the sword out of the bandit’s hand, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto the ground.  

“Uh….uh….uh Mr. Witcher, please.”  Wulfgar started to stammer.

“You will stay away.  Or I will kill you where you stand.”  Geralt warned, bearing his teeth.

Wulfgar was left in shock, eyes wide and not blinking as he watched Geralt start to walk away.  Somewhere in his tiny little brain, the idea of trying one last time to win overtook rational thought.  He pulled out a small throwing knife that had been hidden in his pant leg, aimed, and threw it at Geralt.  Just as how the rest of the day had gone for him, the knife sticks in his shoulder directly in the spot where his leather had been cut away.  All Wulfgar hears is a short grunt from him and before he knows it, Geralt grabbed the dagger he purchased and sunk it into his thigh.  

“FUCK YOU, WITCHER!!!  YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!!!  YOU AND YOUR…..YOUR STUPID HAIR WILL REGRET THIS!!!”  Wulfgar screamed and was attempting to army crawl away.  “AND….AND YOU KNOW WHAT?!?  YOUR MOTHER IS A WHORE!!!”

Geralt rolled his eyes at the empty insult attempts and once again continued his journey back to Y/N’s cottage, bloody dagger in hand.  Oh man, he fucked up.

Once outside her cottage, he stopped and took a deep breath.  What the hell just happened?  He started off his day sitting at her kitchen table waiting for dinner and then boom, he’s wielding a dagger he bought for her and used it to stab someone after he beat up six people.  Ah, yes, the unpredictable life of a witcher.  

Finally, he opened the door to Y/N’s cottage.

“Geralt!  Where have you been?  I thought you were just going to market?  Did you take shelter from the rain?  And did you–”  Y/N cut off her own string of questions.  “Is that a cut on your face?”  She stopped cooking the food she was still attempting to make and ran over to him.

“Oh….yeah….”  Geralt responded, still standing in front of the door.

“What happened?!?”  She reached up to touch his face but his head jerked away on instinct, causing her to pull her hand back.  “Geralt….where did you go?”

“I….went to town square.”

“Yes, but…..Geralt.  Your face is cut, you have no supplies from any stall, your coin pouch is gone,”  Y/N pointed to his hip where the pouch once was.  “and….your pocket is….bleeding.”

“Oh…..yeah…..that’s probably from…..this.”  Geralt said quietly, slowly pulling out the dagger he bought for her.

At this point, Y/N has no idea what to say to him.  He said he was going to market, then came back with nothing but a bloody dagger and blood on his skin?  What happened to his coin???  A hundred questions ran through her mind as she stood there in silence, eyes locked onto the dagger in his hands.  

“I….got it for your cooking.”  Geralt broke the silence.

“My….cooking?”  She repeated.

“Yes.  Earlier you looked like you were having….issues cutting the food for your stew and I was just watching you struggle sitting there thinking about what I could do to fix it and how I could make you have an easier time and—”

“Geralt.”

“What?”

“What are you talking about?”  Y/N asked, still dumbfounded.

Geralt stayed silent for a minute, trying to rake over his options.  Should he tell her not to worry about it and walk away for the night?  Should he brush it off as just trying to help with her cooking?  No.  That wouldn’t explain why he had no coin and was decorated with blood.  He started to ponder whether he was ready to risk it all or not…….it was time.

“Y/N…..please accept this gift as a token of my love…..”  His eyes darted off to the side.  “For….uh….you.”  

As if the situation couldn’t get anymore confusing or awkward, Geralt reached out to hand her the dagger laid out on both of his palms.  She wrapped her hands in her sleeve and took it out of his hands.  A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as the two stared at each other.

“Geralt, this is a dagger.”  Y/N said firmly.  “And it….it has blood on it.”

Geralt stood there speechless, fully taking in that he just confessed to someone with a bloody dagger that neither of them needed or wanted.

“Listen, I tried to get you something you could use every day and help you but this fool of a man made me lose half my coin and then it started raining so the merchants started to leave and I saw that and figured it was close enough to a kitchen knife so I bought it but then on my way back I ran into the same dumbass but he brought friends this time and—”

In the middle of his rambling, Y/N had set the dagger on a nearby surface.  She then cut off his borderline incoherent thoughts by grabbing his face and pushing her lips onto his, creating an intense first kiss between them.  She eventually pulled away to examine the face of the confused as heck Geralt.  That….was the last thing he expected to actually happen.  Did….did his dumbass plan work?

“You’ve felt for me all this time?”  Y/N asked, hands still cupping Geralt’s face.

“Mhm.”

A huge grin spread across her face.  “You fought off a gang of men, almost got killed, trudged through the cold rain, lost all your coin, and came home covered in blood…..just to get me something that might help me a few times a day?”

Geralt ran a hand through his hair and laughed at himself, listening to Y/N sum up all of his day’s fuckery.  She was correct.  He did all of that just to bring home the wrong thing.  

“I guess….I just love you.”  

“You guess?”  Y/N prodded.

Geralt’s face softened.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, Geralt.  Now, kiss me again.”  

“My pleasure.”  The witcher smiled and kissed her once again.

It was a terrible, stupid, horrible, foolish plan………and it worked.

[yuncifang]

can we fuse the last game and Jaskier's newly found romance together. this is just my clown thoughts i think to amuse myself.

so, in my head Geralt is like deliberately blind to half the stuff jaskier gets up to, so, he is completely unaware of jaskier "taking a prince in a shed" that bit of time back.

so, if we merge the end of s3 volume 1 with the game and assume shit went down, then Radovid is now king, Ciri is on the run from everyone, all the characters are kind of scattered all over, and Geralt is tracking Ciri as per the game.

which brings us to Novigrad and to the "A favour for Radovid" quest

so, Radovid, the biggest military power on the continent, brings his giant ass ship to Novigrad and demands the witcher's presence.

Geralt has just been busy tracking down Junior, who was supposed to give him more info on Ciri and Jaskier, who had stirred shit up in the city a while back. Geralt gets the info, probably (if the player's so inclined) murders Junior and is filled with rage cause the dude was a total scumbag and made some untoward comments about Geralt's daughter.

and then Radovid's men show up and demand the witcher come pay their king a visit.

Geralt is like, aight, bet, haven't punched a king tonight yet.

he comes to the ship, high levels of fight or flight, agrees to leave his gear at the "entrance", walks all the way up that long ass ship. it's nighttime, dark and scary.

Radovid is a broody stern ass, all "do you like chess, witcher", political nonsense, "i hate mages", more nonsense, "bring me Philippa Eilhart", more political nonsense, some not so thinly veiled threats, and oh, and one more thing!

"the bard. bring me the bard."

and Geralt who was kinda nodding along up to this point is like

Geralt doesn't give a rat's ass about Radovid's beef with mages as long as Yen isn't in the mix, and Ciri is the priority, so he follows Junior's info trail. might as well ask Jaskier what's up with Radovid's sudden interest once he gets to him.

Ciri isn't in Novigrad. Geralt ends up having to track down Jaskier's assumed romances, while Zoltan kinda insists the bard has surprisingly mellowed out in his escapades over the last couple of years. the bard did buy this here brothel though. also, Zoltan has an owl (LOL). Geralt tracks down Jaskier, kills some people, tracks him again, rescues him from a cellar, gets all the info Jaskier has about Ciri, and then is like.

"right. also, Radovid is looking for you."

and instead of Jaskier playing his usual scared and confused tune, Jaskier's face does that thing it does when he knows he messed up big times.

"ooooh. that. uh. he is, isn't he?"

and that's how Geralt finds out Jaskier didn't stop at their break up song but actually went on and got over him via bagging himself a then-prince of the whole Redania

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter 6

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: swearing, struggling with emotions

Word Count: 4872

Masterlist

Tag List Form

Jaskier was quiet. He’d hardly said a word since Geralt blew up on him. His fingers would rub against each other every now and again, as if he wished to pluck the strings on his lute, but he did not reach for his instrument. The whole time you set up camp, laying out bedrolls and blankets, setting up a campfire, and so on, he sat silently on a rock you dragged over. He was completely zoned out - not even offering to help when you grunted from the labor or winced from your injuries. He only came back to his senses when you held a strip of dried meat under his nose. He’d startled slightly at the sudden smokey scent of seasoned meat, but he took it with a brief, weak smile nonetheless. But even then, he just looked at the food with a frown.

“You need to eat something,” you urged, as he’d once done for you. “You won’t have the strength to make it down the mountain if you don’t.”

“I didn’t even have the strength to stand up for myself!” he cried. As quickly as it was there, the energy and frustration was gone, swallowed up by the night. “Sorry.” His nimble fingers picked apart the jerky. You watched attentively as he pulled off a bit and ate it.

Once he began eating, you did, too. Your eyes never left the bard, watching him sulk all too knowingly. You were just the same way growing up. You could so easily imagine yourself in Jaskier’s place, sat across from Stuldweck. He would have been comforting you after a failed test on alchemy or monsters, or telling you exactly how to get back at Oalvir for a prank or for some taunting remark from the others, or encouraging you to keep trying on the obstacle course. “So you learn how to.”

He looked up. “What?”

“You learn how to stand up for yourself, for next time.”

He sighed. His whole body hunched forward, closing himself away from the harsh world he found himself in. “Next time…” He stared back at the fire; you’d carefully avoided staring too deep into its cruel flickering. Within the embers, he could see those long, dreary nights spent out in the wild with Geralt, chasing after some creature or another. He continued to long for those adventures. He craved stories and tales and wild escapades. “Next time, I’ll tell him to shove it up his arse.”

You chuckled. He lightened up a bit at the sound. “That’s a good start.”

The higher up you went, the less wildlife that seemed to be around. Now that you were descending the mountain, the crickets seemed more abundant. Their incessant chirping mingled with owls’ cries as they searched alongside bats for food. The high-pitched clicks and chirps of echolocation didn’t bother Jaskier, but they were easily picked up by your sensitive ears. Occasionally something would swoop down to catch its prey.

You couldn’t revel in the harmony of nature for long - you had put off tending to your injuries for long enough as it was. With a sigh and the rest of your jerky gone, you began undoing the straps of your leather armor as easily as the last thousand times before. Half of the buckles undone, you reached inside the chestpiece to feel your ribs. They were tender, but you couldn’t find any signs of fractures.

You undid the other half and tugged it all off. The armor itself was lighter and more flexible compared to Geralt’s. It also had less tears. The only noticeable damage was the long cut down the back. You sighed just thinking about having to stitch it back together; you were never very good at sewing.

Reaching behind you, you ran a hand slowly along your back until you felt the tear in your black tunic. You’d have to fix that, too. A little further, and your fingers brushed against the open, scarred tissue. It stung, and the blood around it was dry and crusted. But it felt clean enough. Your armor must have protected it from dust and dirt when you rolled along the cave floor.

“Are you alright?”

You’d nearly forgotten Jaskier was there, watching as you doffed your armor. You weren’t uncomfortable getting rid of that barrier, of removing that protection; so much so you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

You hummed, wincing as your fingers brushed a tender spot. “From the fight,” you explained. “One of them cut through my armor. Got me pretty good.”

He floundered for a moment. “Do you want some help? I mean, I could- Well, I know how to wrap a bandage or-”

“I’d appreciate it.”

You met his eye across the fire. His eyes did not shine and gleam at every new thing. Self-doubt clouded them, dulling them to a soft cornflower blue. He cleared his throat and jumped up. “Supplies?”

You nodded over to your bag, laying by your bedroll. He reached inside, shifting vials and jars of monster parts and ground herbs aside to find bandages. They weren’t really bandages, per se, but long strips of cloth torn from clothes or bedding, wrapped up into a ball. You also instructed him to find a small container of salve, which looked greenish-yellow in the light. As he brought over the items, you shifted to sit with your back to him, and pulled your shirt over your head. He sat awkwardly beside you on the rock, trying not to stare at your back, as you studied the tear in your tunic.

“U-Uhm, this one?” he asked about the container, holding it over your shoulder so you could see. You glanced at it briefly and nodded.

“You’ll need to gather some and spread it on the cut.” You listened to the clinking of the jar as it was opened. You almost grinned at the thought of Jaskier scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Don’t worry about hurting me.”

He scoffed and began dabbing the salve onto the long, inflamed slash, all the while mumbling to himself. “‘Don’t worry about hurting me.’ Yeah right.” The talking helped him gather his nerves. “What is this stuff anyway?” He took an experimental sniff of the jar’s contents, and found the smell actually not unpleasant.

“That same mixture from before; when I fought Geralt at your camp,” you reminded him. He’d remembered the small amount you’d spread on your cheek, then. He glanced over your shoulder to see the mini scar that ran along your cheek. It distracted him from the mention of his former adventuring buddy. “Celandine and white myrtle - helps with the pain and the infection, to some extent.”

“Smells nice.”

You chuckled. “I always found them to have a bitter smell,” you admitted.

He smelled it again, pausing for a moment to try and smell the bitterness. It was faint, on the edge of his senses. In his next breath of the cool night air, it was gone. He shook his head and gathered up more, gently guiding it within the cut. He tried not to think about how he could see the muscle-y tissue just right there, at his fingertips.

It was quiet as he continued to work. He kept trying to think of ways to fill the silence - what questions he could ask, or if he should hum or whistle a tune. You enjoyed it. You traced your fingers over the fabric in your hands, listening to the wind as it moved through the scattered foliage. After a little while, he finished coating the cut with salve and wiped the excess from his fingers onto his pants (they were dirty, anyway).

“Alright, so just, uhm.” He unraveled a bit of the bandage cloth and tried to figure out how to start wrapping it around. You held out a hand for one end of the roll, and held it to your chest so you could tie the ends together when it was all done. He would pass it around your back, and you’d wrap it around your front, until almost your entire back was safely wrapped up in the cloth. You tied the ends together and threw your shirt back on - you could fix it later.

“Is that alright?” he asked. He’d never actually helped anyone patch themselves up before. Geralt would barely let him know when he’d been hurt; Jaskier usually had to guess from the Witcher’s body language.

You turned your body to once again face the fire. “It’s not the worst I’ve ever had,” you teased, but you were sincere as you thanked him.

He fiddled with his fingers. “Thank you, too, by the way,” he rushed out, as if he would never be able to say it again if he didn’t say it now. You looked at him with those sharp snake eyes, and he floundered a little more. “For, erm, yelling at Geralt, like that.” The gratitude came from him stiff and stumbled, but it was genuine.

You smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

He grinned, too, and eased into the silence that came after.

-

The sound of Jaskier’s boots skidding on uneven gravel followed you down the mountain. You took the lead, eyes and ears constantly looking out for monsters or wild animals. It was hard to hear anything over the crunching-sliding sounds of his boots - a cougar with soft paw pads could easily walk right next to you and you’d not notice. You looked over your shoulder and watched as the bard slid down a steep incline, holding an arm out to balance himself while clutching the strap of his lute. Some steps he took were accentuated with grumbles and winces, undoubtedly from the sharp points of rocks poking through the thin soles.

“After all this time traveling,” you called back, waiting for him to catch up, “you never thought to get better boots?”

“Ah, well, I thought about it.” He reached even ground and trudged his way to your side. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths from the exertion. “Never had the extra coin to actually get any.”

He turned to the path ahead, shoulders falling with a sigh as he saw the next slope and the one after that. You had managed to get halfway down yesterday, but there was still much farther to go. Before he could start the long descent down the mountain, you placed a hand on his chest and stopped him.

“What?”

You looked around, eyes scanning the rocky terrain. Nervously, he did the same. You could feel his heart against your hand, beating wildly.

“What is it? Did you hear something?”

Shaking your head, you make your way over to a bolder. It fell decades ago, eroded by time to be smooth. You sat down. Jaskier watched, astonished, as you began removing your boots.

“Now, wait- Hang on!” His boots scraped along as he rushed to stand in front of you. His hands waved all over, trying to stop you without actually touching you. “You’re going to need those! Viper, wh- You don’t even know what size I am! Your boots might not fit! Or my boots might not fit you!”

You paused for a moment, stopped in the middle of unlacing your travel-worn footwear. He watched as you slid one foot to be next to his. Then, you continued unlacing. “They’ll fit well enough.”

He scoffed and paced around, unable to grasp that you would want to do anything so… chivalrous for him. Saving his life on a whim was one thing - it was probably just instinct that made you throw yourself over him - but to fully go out of your way to ease his (dare he say) suffering just because you could?

In no time at all, you were left barefoot on rough gravel. Unlike him, you did not wince or even flinch as the sharp points dug into your heels. He could only imagine it was because they were so calloused after who-knows-how-long of adventuring. You pressed your boots to his chest, giving him no choice but to hold onto them and accept the gesture.

“Put them on. We’ll worry about new boots when we get into town.” You stepped away from the boulder, waving a hand for him to sit down. He hesitated, staring at the worn down, well-loved boots. You nudged him. “C’mon, jaskier, my feet are hurting.”

He glanced down, realizing fully that you were actually barefoot on a rocky mountain. He rushed to sit down and take off his boots so you’d have something to walk in. All the while, his mind ran rampant.

Had Geralt ever done anything this nice? Had Geralt ever done anything to help Jaskier? Anything that didn’t involve the bard’s near death, that is. The White Wolf never even let him touch his steed, no matter how long he had been walking or how badly his feet ached. But you! You just took off your boots and gave them to him like it was such a simple thing, no more important than passing the salt at a meal. You didn’t even think twice about it, no matter how many complaints he brought up. Hell, he hadn’t even complained about his feet aching or his boots doing very little to protect him with their thin soles; you just noticed!

Another voice, less astonished but just as bitter toward his past companion spoke up: They are not Geralt.

He handed over his boots, still dazed by your altruism and perhaps slightly embarrassed over the act of trading shoes, and watched as you slipped them on without sitting back down. You kicked the toe onto the ground, measuring how much space you were left with, before giving him a nod.

“Better?”

He stepped a couple times. The boots felt odd on his feet, but he could already tell they were built for traveling. His, well, they were mostly for appearance.

“Good. Let’s keep going.”

-

Your feet were hurting by the time you reached the base of the mountain, but sweet relief was found in Bayard. The speckled horse greeted you both with loud whinnies and dramatic head bobbing. You wasted no time in stroking his neck and head, pressing your forehead to his nose.

Jaskier looked between your horse and the one tied up next to it, a mare with a light grey coat and dark hair. “So, is your horse named after a fish, too?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You snorted. “No, absolutely not.” You walked around the side, running your hand along his coat all the way. “No, his name’s Bayard.”

Jaskier watched with twiddling fingers as you prepared your trusty steed for a ride. “Why Bayard? Isn’t that a bit of a mouth full?” He glanced around at the other hitching posts. Some had horses that no longer had owners. One of them was definitely Roach, but he had a feeling she didn’t really want anything to do with him either. The one hitched up next to yours tried reaching out to nudge his arm. He jumped back, unsure how to really act around such a large, terrifying creature.

You shrugged from underneath Bayard, working on a stubborn buckle. “It was just sort of the first name that came to mind. I think it suits him.” You stood and Bayard nudged his side against you. He was excited to finally stretch his legs. You watched as Jaskier nervously patted the top of the mare’s head. “Can you ride?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and stepping away from Hendrick’s horse as she tried nibbling on his doublet. “No, not at all. Geralt usually rode and I’d just sort of,” he gestured his hand moving along a path, “walk alongside.”

“Well, if you’re going to travel with me, you’ll need to move a bit quicker than that.”

He frowned, almost scoffing as he watched you saddle up the mare with some spare tack laying around. “What, like, run? Cuz these legs aren’t really good for sprints or- or jogging.” You looked around for a moment, searching the ground. You set a log on one end and tested it with your foot. Jaskier watched with a sinking feeling in his gut. “What are you doing?”

“You,” you began, grabbing his arm to drag him to the horse’s side, “are going to learn how to ride.”

“What?!” He flinched away when he accidentally ran into her flank, apologizing on impulse.

You patted his shoulder. “Relax, Jaskier, you’ll do fine. So, what you want to do is hold onto the saddle, right here and here, put your foot in the stirrup like this, and pull yourself up. Okay, good, now swing your leg over the back- careful.” You moved the stump away once he was on, but you kept careful watch. It would be unfortunate if he fell off. Or if the horse bucked him off.

He watched you too, but less in a ‘watching a child so they don’t injure themselves’ way and more of a ‘dear god I’m going to die’ way. His blue eyes practically bulged out of his skull in fright. His hands held onto the horn of the saddle for dear life, afraid to even actually touch the horse. “What do I do now?”

“Name her.” Bayard nudged his nose under your arm as you worked to undo the knot in her lead. You had to shove him away before he panicked Jaskier any more.

“Name her?” he parroted. You could hear his panicked breathlessness. “Like what? Doesn’t somebody own it? Am I stealing a horse right now?”

You chuckled under your breath. It was interesting trying to give the bard a crash course in horses when you worked with them for almost a decade of your life. “No, we aren’t stealing; nobody owns her anymore. And it can be anything.” You handed the lead for him to hold as you untied Bayard’s. “You’re poetic - you’ll think of something.”

“Some-thiing!” Jaskier nearly fell forward in panic as you guided both horses onto the road.

“Calm down.” You slung the lead over the mare’s head. He caught it and held onto it like a lifeline while watching you hoist yourself into Bayard’s saddle like it was nothing. He couldn’t picture himself as at-ease with a horse. “Don’t pull the lead too tight, make sure she has room to move.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Bayard can’t carry two people for very long, and I’m not going to wait up for you if I’m on the tail of a contract. So, it’s either this, or I’ll wait for you to walk 2 hours to Hengfors by yourself.”

He sighed, pouting as he worried the leather in his hands. “Fine! But if I fall off, I’m blaming you. Now how do we move these things?”

-

The entire ride was spent teaching Jaskier how to ride. He was a surprisingly fast learner, but he also almost slid off the saddle several times. He also spent a grand majority of the trip brainstorming names for his new steed. Due to her silvery grey coat, he tried some names like ‘Silver’ and ‘Snowflake’. That trailed off into names like ‘Furt’, ‘Furtie’, and ‘Hove’ after his memories of home. (Oxenfurt and Lettenhove, respectfully.) Deeply dissatisfied by any variation of those names, he did a full 180 and decided randomly naming things he saw or thought about would be the best way to name her.

By the time you reached the town and zoned back into his random mutterings, he decided to call her Adhara, after a star he read about as a child.

The first stop in town was to the first armorsmith you saw. You almost slid off the saddle before Bayard even had a chance to stop, eager to get Jaskier some proper boots and get yours back. It cost a mite more than you expected, but you saw the glint in the smith’s eye when he told you the price; he was no doubt asking for more due to your profession. So while Jaskier muttered about how unreasonable that was and tried insisting on paying for it himself, you just handed over the coin and left without another word to the craftsman.

Jaskier noticed during this time how you were different. It was hard to notice the change in Geralt - the Wolf was always moody and miserable; but from the moment you stepped into Hengfors, your face was unreadable, even stern. Your eyes shifted around constantly, and when Jaskier cracked a joke or offered a witty remark, you did not even grace him with a soft grin or huff of laughter. It was all part of the job, he supposed.

Once he was settled with his brand new boots and yours were safely returned to your feet (his old boots only fetched a few crowns from the craftsman), you led your steeds to the nearest inn and showed Jaskier how to properly tie up Adhara and remove her tack. Watching him try to lift the saddle and hang it on the wall hook, you’d never suspect he ever set a foot out into the real world.

He insisted on buying the room since you bought the boots, but you insisted he only get one room. There was no point in spending more coin than necessary and you were accustomed to sleeping on hard floors. Perhaps Melitele decided to show you some grace, though, as the bed in the room was plenty large enough to fit two people.

You both trudged into the room and dropped (or carefully set down, in the case of Jaskier’s lute) everything you carried to the floor. The floors creaked and groaned, and the walls were thin enough to hear somebody breathing on the other side, but a warm place to lay your head was enough reason to relax.

“Oh ho ho ho! You beauty!” Jaskier’s voice came from the corner of the room. You paused in the middle of removing your leather armor, watching with quiet amusement as he moved around behind a screen divider. If you cocked your head just enough, you could see the large bathtub, steam wafting from the basin already filled to the brim with hot water. “I have not bathed in days,” he bemoaned. He rushed to his bags, tugging off his doublet all the while, and pulled out various bottles of oils. He practically dumped all of their strongly perfumed contents in.

You huffed a laugh at his enthusiasm (He silently praised the gods that you felt comfortable enough in here to do so.) and pulled off your chestplate. It would be best to patch it up now. With Jaskier safely behind the screen, cursing to himself as he undressed, you pulled your own shirt off and dropped it to the bed with the armor. You would have plenty of time to fix your gear as the bard allowed himself the comfort of a long, hot soak.

The water shifted and sloshed as Jaskier lowered himself in, all content hums and satisfied groans. He always expressed his emotions so plainly. You envied him for it. Even as a child, emotions were scolded or punished; crying in dark corners was not uncommon in the Viper Keep. It was hard to shake off those grueling years when humans looked at you with such open disdain. A Witcher seen laughing would surely bring more ridicule than one that stayed silent.

As you dug through your stuff, you allowed yourself to breathe in the strong smells. They were overwhelming at first, especially with senses as sensitive as yours, but they soon became bearable. “Is that sandalwood?” you called across the room.

“Mhm.” He sighed, spreading out in the water and resting his head on the edge of the tub. He wondered behind closed eyes and private screens what you were moving around the room for, what you were doing. Did Witchers ever rest? “And vanilla.”

With the sewing kit in hand, you gracelessly plopped onto the mattress. It was soft and springy. Your muscles relaxed instantly against the clean fabrics. You readied a thick needle with leather thread and pulled the chestplate into your lap. The cut was clean, which meant it would be easy to fix. And while you’d never been the best at sewing, you were plenty good enough now not to poke your fingers or misalign the edges. “It smells nice.”

He sat up in the tub, water shifting around him as he moved to see what you were doing. His eyes glanced over the bandages around your torso only briefly. “You think so?”

You hummed, nodding as you pulled the thread through. “I don’t get many opportunities to smell something sweet on my travels.”

“Don’t pass by many bakeries, then?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I try to avoid towns whenever possible.”

“How come?” he asked before he could stop himself. Your pointed glance was all the answer he needed. He forgot how unwelcome Witchers were, when the couple he knew were so… Well, he couldn’t say normal, but when you’re around oddities and strangeness all the time, it becomes normal. To him, they were just people. Strange, brave people. “Feel free to use it then, if you’d like,” he offered. The water announced his gestures. “Wash away all that Witchery-ness.”

You pulled taught another thread, leaning in closer to focus on what you were doing. It was a bad habit. Stuldweck always grabbed you by your collar and sat you up straight when he caught you doing it. You sat up a little straighter.

“I wouldn’t wish to waste your expensive oils. Monster guts have a difficult stench to cover,” you dismissed. You tied a knot at the end of your repair, cutting off the excess with a knife. As you worked to thread a smaller needle with cotton thread, you added, “Besides, I think it smells much nicer on you.”

Jaskier stared at you for a minute, trying to think. When he could not cobble together the words, despite how fast his mind raced with a mixed bag of teasing remarks, self-deprecating put-downs, and ways to assure that you surely would also smell nice if you bathed in sandalwood and vanilla, he leaned back into his bath, rested his head against the rim, and stared at the ceiling.

-

You woke up to a dark, empty room. It was disorienting at first; you pulled your knife from under your pillow on reflex. Jaskier and his lute were nowhere to be found, but the smell of sandalwood and vanilla lingered in the air. All his other belongings were still dropped to the floor with your own.

Sharp spikes of pain shot up your spine as you sat up. You carefully prodded at your back, now covered by the patched up shirt. The cut was sensitive, but it would heal well enough. Another scar for the collection, atop an old training injury no less.

The door creaked slowly open on its rusty hinges. Your hand tightened around your blade, prepared to fend off intruders even in your post-nap drowsiness. You sighed when you saw Jaskier poke his head in. He stopped trying to be sneaky once he saw you were awake.

“Ah, good! You’re up.” He sauntered inside with an easy confidence, a slight pep in his step. He dropped his lute onto the bed by your feet and a small pouch full of coins in your lap. “I have just earned enough money for dinner,” he sang proudly.

As you tugged open the bag, he struck a match to light the lamp by the bed. Coins were packed so tightly inside that they didn’t have room to shift or clink together. You raised an eyebrow at the amount. “And drinks.”

He waved his hands about. “Yes, well, I may have stopped by a few of the taverns around town.”

You looked up at him. He cracked under the pressure.

“Or, maybe, all of them.” He sighed, dropping to sit next to you on the bed. He gestured to his shoes. “You spent a lot on these boots! I felt bad!”

You cinched up the purse and tossed it into his lap. “You bought the room,” you reminded him.

“And it definitely didn’t cost as much.” He nudged your arm, jumping up excitedly. “C’mon, Viper! Meat and mead on me!”

Part of you wanted to decline. It wanted to remain completely self-reliant. It wanted to keep some distance between you and the bard, especially when you let your guard down around him so easily. It wanted you to build your walls taller and stronger.

But then he looked at you with those bright, hopeful eyes, and that little part of you fizzled out. You sighed, but you pushed the blankets aside and pulled on your boots. He rambled about his concerts while you pulled your armor back on and holstered your daggers, telling you about drunk patrons who fell over themselves singing along or women who waited until he finished singing to flirt with him. You offered your own input when he took a breath.

You ate and drank more that night than you had in months.

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@lastwandastan

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonsimp

@cool-ontherun-world

[the-sprog]

I finished Vox Machina (it was A Challenge) so that episode of the Witcher is staring intently.

But.

I'm pretty sure the new Superman series just came out.

Also I forgot I have Moon Girl to find somewhere still.

So.

I'm sorry Geralt. Your escapades with Yennifer will have to wait.

[aaronantium]

This vid got me back into watching the Witcher. I wanted to do a Royal Republic song (because when I am in doubt for music, I make a vid to their songs) and Witcher was recommended as a choice for this song. I was into Witcher during season 1, pretty much exclusively for Jaskier (I've played some of the games, and read some of the books), but then fell off the wagon for season 2. Now it's season 3, the second part came out as I was working on this vid and I'm back on watching the Witcher. This vid ended up premiering at Escapade 33.5.

[sinfulpetgirlrd]

Fandom: The Witcher

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Expect everything to be way out in left field, then take that expectation and throw it in a river. Remember, this is the witcher universe. It’s a cruel and violent world. Gore/sexual situations(con or not) will be described, strong/offensive language will be used. People will emotionally break and have their ability to “live on” tested (some might fail). What happens really just depends.

Chapters: 4/?

It was late afternoon by the time Regis’s little friends had returned. The men were sitting inside at the main table, a poor yet valiant attempt to escape the sun which beat down on the manor. Their time was occupied with gallant retellings of their past escapades together— with sorrowful tales of current events— and with silent longing looks on topics neither dared to broach.

Geralts’ nose wrinkled in revulsion as they recalled the vampire's 'famous' fish soup, and Regis’s countenance dropped when he heard of Geralts’ search for Ciri in Novigrad and Vellen over the last few months. As a hand takes a soft fuzzy pink peach from the bowl of fresh fruit, the older man learns that the witcher is meant to be in Skellige— rendezvousing with Yen to carry on with their search for his daughter, yet instead, he’s here. Taking a mental health break— at the behest of said woman. Who urged him to take the contract and to seek out an old mage’s experiments, claiming the theories, whatever they were, could be useful.

Regis had inquired about the experiments and reprimanded the witcher for subjecting himself to further unknown mutations. But the wolf, true to form, simply waved the worries away. Silently admitting that— despite his whining and the contract turning into a nightmare, it was worth it.

Read the full chapter on AO3(be sure to read the tags and chapter notes. Your only warning lol)  

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45835249/chapters/116732014#workskin

[somewhere-to-reblog-randoms]

ehh, just reblogs here, like the blog title says.

I find interesting memes, useful posts, or funny stuff and just reblog them here. Anything from serious things to gaming stuff to memey stuff. Literally anything.

If you're interested to learn more about me though, I'm in the Witcher fandom and you can find the pictures I make at @geraltyen-of-corvobianco and maybeeee @witchering-escapades , but the second one is kinda dead for now lol

I also reblog Witcher things at @the-supporting-troll

Welp thanks for stopping by and see ya around

P.s. I really need to write that Intro post for all my main blogs

[filmstreamingfr]

Les Nouveautés du Streaming à Ne Pas Manquer

Introduction : Le monde du streaming évolue rapidement, offrant aux amateurs de cinéma et de séries de nouvelles options passionnantes à découvrir. Chaque année, de nombreux films et séries captivantes voient le jour, et il est essentiel de rester à jour pour ne pas manquer les dernières productions. Dans cet article, nous vous présentons une sélection des nouveautés du streaming à ne pas manquer, des œuvres qui promettent de vous divertir, de vous émouvoir et de vous faire vivre des aventures inoubliables.

“Bridgerton” : Cette série romantique et historique a fait sensation dès sa sortie. Située dans l’Angleterre du début du XIXe siècle, “Bridgerton” explore les intrigues de la haute société londonienne. Avec des costumes somptueux, des décors magnifiques et une distribution talentueuse, cette série est un véritable plaisir à regarder.

“La Casa de Papel” : Cette série espagnole à succès a conquis le cœur des spectateurs du monde entier. “La Casa de Papel” raconte l’histoire d’un groupe de braqueurs qui planifient et exécutent des cambriolages audacieux. Avec son suspense haletant et ses personnages charismatiques, cette série est un véritable incontournable.

“The Queen’s Gambit” : Cette mini-série a connu un succès fulgurant grâce à son histoire captivante et à la performance incroyable d’Anya Taylor-Joy dans le rôle de Beth Harmon, une prodige des échecs. “The Queen’s Gambit” offre une plongée fascinante dans le monde du jeu d’échecs et explore les luttes personnelles de son personnage principal.

“Squid Game” : “Squid Game” est une série sud-coréenne qui a connu un immense succès. Elle suit un groupe de personnes endettées qui participent à des jeux mortels pour gagner une somme d’argent importante. Cette série sombre et captivante aborde des thèmes tels que la survie, la cupidité et les conséquences de nos choix.

“Lupin” : “Lupin” est une série française qui s’inspire des aventures du célèbre gentleman cambrioleur Arsène Lupin. Omar Sy incarne avec brio le personnage d’Assane Diop, qui utilise ses talents de voleur pour se venger de l’injustice. Avec son intrigue palpitante et son mélange d’action et de suspense, cette série est un vrai régal.

“Ted Lasso” : Cette comédie américaine a conquis le cœur du public avec son humour chaleureux et sa performance exceptionnelle de Jason Sudeikis dans le rôle de Ted Lasso, un entraîneur de football américain qui se retrouve à entraîner une équipe de football en Angleterre. “Ted Lasso” est une série feel-good qui vous fera sourire à coup sûr.

“The Mandalorian” : Cette série de science-fiction se déroule dans l’univers de Star Wars et suit les aventures du chasseur de primes Mandalorien. Avec ses effets spéciaux époustouflants, son ambiance immersive et la présence de Baby Yoda, “The Mandalorian” est un incontournable pour les fans de la saga.

“Emily in Paris” : Cette série légère et divertissante suit les péripéties d’Emily, une jeune Américaine qui déménage à Paris pour travailler dans une entreprise de marketing. “Emily in Paris” offre une escapade glamour dans la Ville Lumière et est parfaite pour ceux qui recherchent une série légère et pleine de charme.

“The Witcher” : Basée sur la série de livres fantastiques, “The Witcher” est une série d’aventure et de fantasy qui suit les aventures du chasseur de monstres Geralt de Riv. Avec son monde riche en détails, ses combats épiques et sa performance impressionnante de Henry Cavill, cette série est un must pour les fans de l’univers des jeux vidéo et des livres.

Conclusion : Les nouveautés du streaming offrent une pléthore d’options passionnantes à explorer. Des séries dramatiques aux comédies en passant par les films d’action et de science-fiction, il y en a pour tous les goûts. Pour tirer le meilleur parti de votre expérience de streaming, n’oubliez pas d’explorerles recommandations des plateformes de streaming, de consulter les critiques et les avis des spectateurs, et de rester ouvert aux genres et aux productions internationales. Que vous soyez amateur de romance, de suspense, de comédie ou de fantastique, il y a certainement une nouveauté du streaming qui saura captiver votre attention.

Alors, préparez votre canapé, sortez le pop-corn et plongez dans ces nouvelles séries et films incontournables. Que ce soit pour une soirée détente en solo, un moment convivial en famille ou une discussion animée entre amis, les nouveautés du streaming sont là pour vous divertir et vous faire vivre des émotions fortes.

N’oubliez pas de prendre des pauses entre les épisodes pour vous étirer, vous hydrater et profiter de la réalité hors de l’écran. Le streaming est une excellente façon de se détendre et de s’évader, mais il est important de maintenir un équilibre avec d’autres activités de la vie quotidienne.

En conclusion, ne manquez pas les nouveautés du streaming, car elles offrent un monde de divertissement à portée de clic. Que vous soyez un fan de séries, un cinéphile passionné ou simplement à la recherche d’une nouvelle expérience télévisuelle, il y a quelque chose pour tout le monde. Alors, installez-vous confortablement et laissez-vous emporter par les histoires captivantes, les personnages attachants et les mondes imaginaires qui vous attendent dans ces joyaux du streaming. Bon visionnage !

[olderthannetfic]

I’ve done a lot of fandom-hopping recently and I realized that I’ve sort of mentally compiled a list on what fandoms are the most “toxic” (AKA anti or drama-dense) in my experience.

Most toxic:

1. DC comics. Good luck having an opinion in there. I was a writer of some prominence for a certain widely-derided ship (*cough* Dick/Damian) and you bet I got harassed. Even the circlejerk subreddit is full of antis.

2. Video game fandoms. Assassin’s Creed, Elder Scrolls, Dragon Age… So many antis, despite the fact that the subject matter doesn’t lend itself to anti-ism very well. Also these three specifically have this very specific variety of fan who wholeheartedly believes they are the single force keeping racism at bay by policing other fans’ depictions of characters.

3. Witcher fandom. Now, if you hide in the little corner of the second Witcher game you’ll be fine, but there’s a lot of super entitled fans that suck. I won’t deride it too much because I actually had /am having a great experience there, but seeing the discourse peripherally still bugs me (depending on discourse topic, lol)

Least toxic:

1. Tolkien. Expected it to be worse because it’s so goddamn big, but honestly it’s awesome. I’ve met a lot of super passionate, kindhearted people, and it also seems to skew a bit older, which is great.

2. Major Grom/Plague Doctor. So teeny tiny and minority English-speaking so if there is discourse, I can’t read it! XD

I’m a young’un, so I’d be interested to here others’ experiences here, especially people who’ve been in fandom longer than me.

--

Man, the vids for Major Grom look so badass. I still haven't gotten around to watching, but I spotted it when I was making the dance party playlist for Escapade since I'm always on the lookout for the next hot thing that attendees won't have heard of.

Tolkien fandom used to have a fuckton of homophobia dressed up as "respect for the text". (This used to be more common in general, but it was especially virulent there.) I think the passage of time and several archives has decreased that.

[b1tterhe]

#𝑩𝟏𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑯𝑬 ; an independent blog for oc musician, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠. inspired by various media. 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 + 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. mature and triggering themes may be present. 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 + 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘯𝘪. 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝟤𝟣+ 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝑗𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑡.

an exploration of : being born in a house on fire, like father like son, addiction, the southern snake, the trailer park dog & the crestfallen rockstar.

⸻⸻⸻ ᵒᶰᵉ ↳𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃. ᵗʷᵒ ↳𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍. ᵗʰʳᵉᵉ ↳𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊.

* 1   I am selective! If i haven’t followed you / followed back, i probably do not wish to interact with your muse. Please don’t take offense to this, it’s just how I work. I will not be following any blog without a  posted mun age of 21 years or older.

 * 2   everything on this blog was made by me ( promo / banners / icons, ect ) with the exception of the psd (lavender fields by psychehelic ) ! *music in the pinned idea credited to daevilhorns - the original trendsetter :P  * 3    I am uncomfy with writing with dupes/twins!  I will not follow back. ( unless you’re a multi or use alt fcs ). If there is ever an issue with anything that I write, please come to me OFF OF ANON to discuss the issue. I will be happy to work with you!

 * 4   I ship based on chemistry with both the muse and the mun. Please do not force a ship on me, it makes me extremely uncomfortable.

 * 5   I am uncomfortable following / interacting with historic blogs, especially those featuring vikings and norse mythology. I will not follow / follow back. This also goes for witcher blogs, as well as GOT.

Cole Young is a broken soul hailing from a trailer park nestled within the mountains of Tennessee. His early years were marred by a father plagued with alcoholism and abuse. Yet, amidst the darkness, Cole found solace when his father would embark on long-haul trucking trips, leaving him to fend for himself. Armed with meager funds, he managed to scrape by. As time passed, Cole's trailer transformed into a haven for parties and unbridled debauchery, devoid of any supervision. At just sixteen, a reckless escapade led to his first brush with the law—grand theft and driving under the influence - after stealing his neighbors truck with a cab full of friends cheering him on. Thankfully, no one was harmed, and the charges were eventually dropped, thanks to remorseful tears and the promise of community service, which Cole had little intention of fulfilling.

At the age of seventeen, a fateful encounter at a pawn shop introduced Cole to his first bass guitar, which he cunningly acquired through a five-finger discount. Determined and self-taught, he immersed himself in music, dedicating countless hours to learning his favorite songs while balancing his partying escapades with friends. Eventually, tensions reached a boiling point when his father unexpectedly returned home one evening, finding the trailer overrun by intoxicated teenagers in the midst of a rager. It was on that night that Cole made a life-altering decision - packing his bags, he fled, once again borrowing his neighbor's recently renovated truck, and bidding farewell to Knoxville forever.

Destiny led him to Nashville, where a chance encounter at a bar introduced him to a band in need of a bassist. From that moment on, Cole's life took an unexpected turn. Within a week of meeting, he was welcomed into the band as their bassist, a position he has held ever since. Though he seldom glances back at his past in Knoxville, the scars of his tumultuous upbringing still haunt him, driving him to constantly evade the demons that have pursued him since childhood.

[thebridgehqs]

Welcome to 1926 – Simon Basset, Panam Palmer, Chloe Price, Matthew Taylor and Lambert!!I hope you feel right at home here in Sydney. Before you get too comfortable and see what all our city has to offer, be sure to review our CHECKLIST. We’re so glad to have you with us, Jules!!  

Look who just woke up- is that REGE-JEAN PAGE? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s SIMON BASSET from BRIDGERTON. I heard they are 30 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, he still gives off a RESERVED EMOTIONS MISTAKEN FOR A HAUGHTY DEMEANOR, BRUISED KNUCKLES SIGNIFYING THE IMPULSE TO DEFEND HONOR, STOLEN GLANCES FROM ACROSS THE ROOM, A MAN OF HIS WORD DESPITE UNREASONABLE SACRIFICES impression. In Sydney they work as a PHILANTHROPIST. They’re known to be quite ELOQUENT & WAGGISH, but have a tendency to be ENIGMATIC & STUBBORN on their bad days. (jules, 31, she/they, ast)

Look who just woke up- is that TRISTIN MAYS? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s PANAM PALMER from CYBERPUNK 2077. I heard they are 27 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, she still gives off a GUARD UP AT ALL TIMES, RECOUNTING UNHINGED ESCAPADES AROUND A CAMPFIRE, TESTING THE LIMITS OF ANYTHING WITH A MOTOR, WARM NIGHTS SPENT DRINKING UNDER THE STARS, OIL STAINED WORK CLOTHES PILED BESIDE A HOT BATH impression. In Sydney they work as a MECHANIC. They’re known to be quite RESOLUTE & TRUEHEARTED, but have a tendency to be CYNICAL & SPLENETIC on their bad days. (jules)

Look who just woke up- is that MILLY ALCOCK? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s CHLOE PRICE from LIFE IS STRANGE. I heard they are 21 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, they still give off a REBEL WITH SEVERAL CAUSES, PAINT SPLATTERED ON EVERY SURFACE, CHARGED BY THE HEART MORE OFTEN THAN THE MIND, ARTISTICALLY VANDALIZING PROPERTY IN THE NAME OF RAW EMOTION, LIVING LIFE TO THE FULLEST WITHOUT REGRET impression. In Sydney they work as a PAINTER & BOOTLEGGER. They’re known to be quite DAUNTLESS & INVENTIVE, but have a tendency to be BOISTEROUS & MALCONTENT on their bad days. (jules)

Look who just woke up- is that JORDAN CALLOWAY? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s MATTHEW TAYLOR from UNTIL DAWN. I heard they are 24 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, he still gives off a HIMBO WITH A HEART OF GOLD, DIGGING DEEP TO FIND THE SILVER LINING, A WORN OUT LETTERMAN JACKET, SACRIFING ONESELF FOR ANOTHER IN NEED, PEOPLE PLEASER TO A FAULT impression. In Sydney they work as a FIREFIGHTER. They’re known to be quite ALTRUISTIC & GALLANT, but have a tendency to be CREDULOUS & RECKLESS on their bad days. (jules)

Look who just woke up- is that LEWIS TAN? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s LAMBERT from THE WITCHER. I heard they are OLD AS DIRT and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, he still gives off a SHARP WIT MATCHED WITH AN EVEN SHARPER TONGUE, CRUEL CHILDHOOD MASKED BY UNWAVERING CONFIDENCE, A CARNAL DESIRE FOR BLOODSHED, PRICKLY PEAR WITH A SOFT SPOT FOR THOSE HE HOLDS CLOSE, HOLDING A GRUDGE TO THE GRAVE impression. In Sydney they work as a MERCENARY. They’re known to be quite CHEEKY & INCISIVE, but have a tendency to be SARDONIC & VINDICTIVE on their bad days. (jules)

[aotvfilm]

Hiya Holiday Pal here!! No, you need sleep and rest, it's a busy time of the year innit! :D

AKLJDFLKJSDF I'm sorry that made me laugh so hard, just the way you said it. Nothing wrong with hating cooking! That's very sweet of your partner! Aw, how lovely that they asked for money, and the other for legos, and wow, that's fantastic! There are so many good kids books out there! I will be exchanging gifts, mostly things such as calenders and soap and books, since all of my family is just my grandmother, uncle, mother and twin brother, and our doggy! So it's going to be super exciting to see the dog with a three foot piece of rawhide made from buffalo! LOL ! Also getting them items such as soap, lotion, calendars, and ornaments, and books! Not too exciting but I hope they enjoy them!

Escapade is so good! It's fantastic! Oh my gosh I have so many. For now I'll send two. I read Lightning Strikes Twice last night, very well written, a bit too much smut for me though. I'd say two recs I have are Sodalite and Aventurine ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931873) and the domestic monsters series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/167063) hopefully you'll enjoy them! Important question, do you read Escapade with the playlist playing or do you read it silently?

It really is intense that it's almost 2023. OH I HAVE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT THE TOUR !!! WHAT WERE THEY ALL LIKE, WHAT WERE YOUR FAVORITE SONGS? No, no no one is judging you for running a Larrie instagram, I think it's spectacular!

Well you seem really wonderful and great yourself friend <3

Okay, yeah, the Witcher-- I've only watched S1-- not even S2, so I can't recommend S2 in good faith, and have heard it's not that good. I've written 35 for that fandom! I have not been able to write any Larry as of yet, espc with graduate school apps picking up rn, but I can't wait to!

Absolutely okay to have that fear, but I encourage you once more; you are more capable and a better writer than you think. Try a prompt, try a little drabble, see how it feels. You don't have to post it you know?

Hopefully this week is going better, so sorry about not replying very quickly. Sending you all the love <3

Holiday Palllll <3

Hi Holiday Pal <3

I love that you also get your dog something for the holidays! I do the same with my pets. Your gifts sound wonderful!

Yes Escapade was SOOO good! I read it a really long time ago so it was nice to reread. I read with the playlist on! How about you? Usually I have my headphones on while I'm reading fics so I appreciate when an author includes a playlist. I'll definitely check those fics out! One of the last fics I read that I really enjoyed was The Finish Line (Is A Good Place For Us To Start) https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136964/chapters/2298990 it was slow burn but at a perfect pace.

Oh the tour was so great! They opened with Midnight Memories and hearing Rock Me live was an experience. I was so fucking young though omg and my mom went with me. I also cried when they came out and I saw Louis for the first time. What is your favorite 1D album?? I'd do anything to go back in time and go to OTRA.

Also my instagram name was elounotachance. Tell me that isn't great

Wow 35 fics! That's impressive. I'm definitely going to try writing some more because I do think I could produce a coherent fic, I just give up on projects easily :(

What are you going to grad school for? I'm graduating from undergrad in march and I may go back to grad school in a few years. Definitely need a break from school right now though! Best of luck with your applications! xx

Talk soon friend x