#lambert has Regrets

[faery-the-diamond]

Just a local gray fox poking his nose in to ask:

For Lambert: Did you have any siblings? How would he describe the culture of his old home compared to how he has built his cult's culture?

For Narinder: I know you and the Lamb have conflict in your relationship, but you may have also experienced similar things in your past.. At the very least, grief, loss, and regret. Maybe not now, but eventually, the two of you could talk things over and find some bit of solace in each other?

(To the author/artist: I love the complexity you've built into the AU and the ways you've chosen to develop these characters. I haven't yet fully finished the game completely, but I look forward to having some stories to share eventually.)

Lambert: Yeah, a younger sister. She was a lively one and perhaps naive to a fault sometimes, but... I still miss her.

Lambert: As for the latter, well, I'm kind of restricted in how much of my culture I can add to the cult, since everything about the Red Crown is tied to death. Which requires me to built everything around it. So what I can add are minor cultural peculiarities.

Lambert: So I'd say that my cult and my home share the same peaceful nature: no sacrifices, no throwing the followers to their doom on left and right just because it's more convenient—

Narinder: Ahem...

Lambert: ... Don't look at me like that. I already explained about Midas and the Fox.

Lambert: Anyway. There's also the fact that I'm trying to be more as a part of the community I'm building. Still keeping the needed respectful distance as a leader of course, but that's how my father ran our village anyway.

---------------------

Narinder: Maybe, maybe not. Pushing us to make up isn't going to make it easier though.

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Thank you for your kind words! : D

#cult of the lamb #mercy gone wrong

[annmarcus63]

Prev

Buckle up, long reading ahead

"I'm not hungry" 

"You need to eat anyway" Jaskier makes a face full of distaste, his belly just woke up and the last thing he wants is stew, more so if Lambert cooked it. "I cooked" Geralt adds as if reading Jaskier's mind "try a couple of spoonfuls" Jaskier takes the bowl eager to get on with it. He swallows precisely two spoonfuls without meat or carrots, only broth. 

"For you" says Geralt and places the yellow flower on the nightstand. He takes the chair next to the bed Jaskier is lying on. "I'm definitely not going to eat that" Geralt huffs a gentle laugh and says "It's a present. Ciri helped me to find it. Started snowing a night ago, that's all we could find" He looks at the dying flower a reflection of his own battered body, he's amazed with the gentleness in which Geralt holded it. 

"How's the pain?" Jaskier's eyes travels up to Geralt's, a soft look on the golden ones, like sunset autumn, Jaskier shivers but he's not sure why. 

"Painful. I must say I didn't know chest hair could hurt" 

"So much fucking hair…"

“...Like a dog died in there” They laugh, one of those rare laughs that holds years and years of sharing experiences, of sharing a life on the road, whether or not it's a friendship or merely a companionship. Jaskier regrets it immediately when a sharp pain emerges from his chest, he gasps and goes still. Melitele's magnificent tits, it hurts. 

A warm hand settles over the bandages, a fluttering touch. Touching but not quite. Jaskier opens his eyes, Geralt is there, close very close. "Breathe, slowly" Jaskier follows his instructions, the witcher's hand rising with every breath. Minutes pass, Geralt waits patiently until he regains strength, and then takes his hand away. Jaskier mourns the loss of contact right away.

"How is Ciri?" he asks to break the silence and grimaces at his own trembling voice. He has already asked Triss about her, but he wanted to hear it from Geralt, her father of surprise so to speak. He's seeking some kind of attention or recognition, he guesses, he's always seeking for self meaning in others, specially in Geralt.

"She's fine. She's got a bruised confidence, that's all." Geralt reluctantly takes the bowl from Jaskier's hands and places it on the nightstand, next to the withering flower. "She's safe  thanks to you" Jaskier makes a noncommittal sound "We're outnumbered and you... you save her and I ... don't... don't fucking do that again." Jaskier blinks stunned, maybe is the pain or his medicine muddle mind but the harshness in Geralt's voice hits in the wrong places for the wrong reasons.  

"I had to, Geralt. That thing was about to mashed her like a potato against the rock, Geralt. A po-ta-to." 

"You should've stayed back and let us handle it."

"Well, too late for that!" said Jaskier looking at his mended body and his severed hands. Geralt sweeps his gaze over Jaskier's body, taking in all the bruises and the bandages a miserable expression settles on his handsome face. "The chort threw you across the field. You aren't built for that, we are. You can't do something like that again" 

Jaskier could sense something in there, something the witcher wanted to say but he didn't want to give it to Jaskier. And the bard is tired of starving from Geralt. "Oh, I'm sorry" he feels his inner snappish child break to the surface "I didn't know I needed your permission to help..." 

"You're human, Jaskier..." And now he's talking like Jaskier is a child who doesn't know better. He's almost forty three!

"Oh, believe me I KNOW" 

"It's a witcher's work not yours"

"It worked, didn't it!? so why don't you stick your opinion up your arse and be grateful for just fucking once" 

"You died, Jaskier!" Geralt shouts, the words crashing to the walls and bumping back to Jaskier in a punch that cools him down instantly. “You died and I couldn't do fucking anything." Geralt slumps on the chair like all the weight of the world has finally left his shoulders, his hands that were clenched a second ago now open on his thighs. Jaskier's snappish inner child quiets down. "I... when I got to you, you're already gone." Geralt lets out a shuddering breath and then turns on the chair to face Jaskier. "You were gone." he repeats and Jaskier averts his eyes, suddenly ashamed. “Jask…” Geralt has never said his name like it's worth naming him, like it's worth the sentiment. The bard feels like crying. "You don't have to say anything, Geralt. I get it... I..." 

"Don't. Don't give me a way out, not this time, bard. I owe you, yeah, don't interrupt me for once and listen.” Even if he wanted to interrupt, Jaskier is utterly stunned. He has heard Geralt talking that much only when he's with Yennefer or Roach, never to him. It’s a nice change.  A callous hand lands on Jaskier's wrist, just above the bandages, a careful but intended touch that sends Jaskier's heart on full speed. "I couldn't feel you. You weren't… here anymore" with his other hand Geralt points at his own chest and isn't that poetic? the bard thinks. "I wasn't prepared to lose you, and I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm fucking sorry. You've been by my side unconditionally even... even when I hurt you, even when I made sure to look the other way.” Geralt's thumb caresses the soft skin on his under wrist, right on his soulmark, and it's so wrong ,so unexpected that Jaskier can't take it anymore. He lets the salt water flow in a river down his stubble. "And I hate myself for making you believe that you're nothing but a travel companion. You're wrong, Jask, I wouldn't be fine if you died, I wouldn't survive losing you." Jaskier lets out an ugly sob. The pain in every inch of his body is nothing compared to this gaping wound with Geralt's name on it, his soulmate. Geralt wipes his tears with the back of his hand, despite being a tender touch the contact feels like a fire setting his skin. "You're my friend, the best I had. But you're much more than that, you're my s..." 

"STOP!" Geralt drives away like he's burning. A desperate expression settles on his face. 

Even when he's so sure that this must be very difficult for the witcher as is the first time he lets himself be vulnerable for Jaskier, he doesn't want to hear it. 

"Stop, please" Jaskier pleads in a broken whisper that rattles up his uneven soul  "You have no idea how long I've wait for this, you've no idea" a tired laugh bubbles from his chest sending spikes of pain all over his body, but before Geralt can act, Jaskier raises his hand to make him stay put. 

"It's not fair. Not after I lost all hope, not after I died and you lost the part of me that has always belonged to you but you haven't wanted it."

"I was a coward…" Jaskier cleans the tears with the side of his hand feeling like a lost child.

"I don't know if you were a coward or afraid or it's because of me..." 

"...Never, Jaskier, I… I’m sorry. It’s my fault…" 

"I've only wanted to belong, to be important to you"

"You are, Jask. I care about you.."

"I know, Geralt. What I said to Triss was born out of my stupid self-pitying side. I know you've cared about me all these years in so many ways. You've been careful with my feelings, not wanting to compromise more than you can give.” That's the reason he has stayed for so long. He hoped, longed and starved for something more, yeah maybe love, but he never expected it. Geralt never gave him false hope. "But, you have also been unkind and selfless at times. You have denied me the slightest recognition, making me feel small and unimportant, like a thumbed page in your history." The witcher made a wounded noise, and Jaskier hated himself a little for it, but he needed to say it and Geralt needed to hear it. 

“I don't want this, not because I died."

"I'm sorry" Geralt whispers with so much sorrow and reverence, like a defeated man amongst an army of creatures ready to take him apart.  And people said witchers were incapable of emotion. Maybe Jaskier is one of those creatures, and he hates it, it won't help to poke at the witcher's gaping wound, and it wouldn't be fair either, not after Geralt allowed himself to feel it. 

"Come here, Geralt" Jaskier groans when he pulls a little too hard after trying to stretch his arms towards Geralt, who rushes forward and moves the chair closer to take Jaskier by the wrist. "Careful" he says. 

"I wish I could touch you." Damn bandages constricting his hands.

"You'd hurt yourself" as if by compensating Geralt holds him tighter by the wrists, not to hurt but to anchor. They're so very close to one another, breath mingling together, until Jaskier rests his forehead on Geralt's and says in a whisper, only meant for them. "Thank you, darling, for letting me see you. But you must understand..." 

"I do" One of Geralt's hands travels up to his neck and stays there. 

"I want this to be real" more tears escape and Geralt wipes them away. 

"It's real." 

"I don't want to get hurt. Not again" Geralt takes his face between his hands and makes him look at him. This close Jaskier can see the tiny pale scars decorating the witcher's skin. "I won't take anything from you, Jask, not anymore. Let me prove this is real. Let me prove how important you are to me." Maybe it's selfish from Geralt for wanting to keep him after he lost him, and maybe it's selfish of Jaskier for wanting Geralt to need him. 

Jaskier nods against Geralt's palms making the witcher smile before letting him go "I’ve kept you awake long enough, you need to rest." Yeah, he’s really tired. 

Jaskier lays down with Geralt's help, every movement is agony but at least he has a pair of strong hands to support the worst. "I'll be back tomorrow." Geralt says standing next to the bed, suddenly awkward which makes Jaskier snort. Only moments ago he couldn't stop touching Jaskier. "You better."

Geralt looks down to him, a warm smile spreading on his lips "Goodnight, Jaskier." 

-

Jaskier recovery is slow and well… painful. Geralt goes every day with food and a single flower, sometimes when the layers of snow are thick, a twig. 

Jaskier thinks it's adorable, he reminds him of a cat but he doesn't tell Geralt that, of course. 

Ciri comes to visit, she is embarrassed and angry with herself for losing her sword, but before she starts blaming herself -like father like daughter- he throws a piece of stale bread from the morning at her head. 

"Ten points!" he exclaims with a punch in the air.

"You wish! Those are five. Ten is between the eyes." Geralt huffs from the window by the corner

"Excuse me ", Ciri says in a very dignified tone.

"No, five are from the neck below, ten on the head." 

"No, ten between the eyes, five on the head and below you lose." 

"Hey! I'm right here"

"Yeah? Well, here's a hundred points to you!" With all his strength and with exceptional care, Jaskier throws at Geralt the first object he finds on the nightstand, a candle. It barely reaches the middle of the room. 

Geralt chuckles followed by Ciri. "It's not funny" Jaskier pouts, he'd cross his arms if it weren't for the broken ribs that is. A moment later, before they stop laughing, Geralt is looking at him intently, like a cat no less. Jaskier is defenseless under the sun in the witcher's eyes, and he likes it so much that he’s falling addicted with that one look. 

"Jaskier is a brave fool. With or without a sword, he'd have thrown himself in front of the chort to save you." Jaskier's heart is fluttering inside his chest, like a moth trying to reach the sun. "He does whatever he wants" Jaskier huffs, blue eyes still on the suns "And I'm grateful for that." somehow Jaskier knows they're not just talking about the chort and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with those feelings, a lot of them, too afraid to grow, too afraid to hope. Oh, but he's a weak man for hope. I'm weak my love and I'm wanting.

-

"I avoided villages as much as I could when we had enough money."

"Geralt, are you confessing that you are stingy?"

"I wanted you to sing for me at night, after a hunt." 

"Wait, what?" 

"I like your voice when you don't have an audience, it's… softer. It helped me lessen the pain from the toxins of the potions"

"Then why did you always say my voice sounded like a cock with the flu in the open?"

"I like the fishy face you do every time I say something negative about your voice."

"WHAT? I…I don't, no, I...I..." 

"Exactly that face, yeah" 

-

It's past midnight and the keep it's quiet, everyone already sleeping, everyone except for him. He's having one of those nights where the throbbing pain it's becoming a little bit too much. His legs are numb and yet oddly present. He's afraid of breathing normally because the last inhale hurt like a bitch. He feels an irritating pressure in the head that won't let him sleep and…

"Jask?" Geralt it's at the door, but before he can ask what he is doing here so late the witcher is already at his side "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere"

"Mmmh" 

Geralt purses his lips in that adorable way he does when he's satisfied. "Don't you worry, my dear. Tomorrow morning I'd be as fresh as a daisy"

Geralt rushes to the wardrobe to open it. Jaskier can hear him searching among the vials. "Daisies are usually quiet." 

"Oh I'm sorry am I bothering you with my pain?" And then Geralt walks back to take the usual chair next to Jaskier's bed. He's holding the vial with the numbing salve that Triss brews for him every now and then. 

“The usual." Jaskier huffs and lofty laugh. Geralt puts the vial on the nightstand and reaches for the bandages on the bard's chest. Jaskier whacks at the hand "Hey, no, Triss already changed them.” 

"We have plenty." 

"Geralt..." 

"Jaskier..." and he surrenders under that worried look. Carefully and attentive of every move, the witcher hovers over Jaskier to unwrap the bandages on his chest. The back of his knuckles grazes Jaskier skin every turn. He shivers in delight for that small contact, the pain is now a minor inconvenience. With the bandages gone Geralt can see the palette of colors on the bard skin, black, purple, green, red and yellow in some places, it's not pleasant to the sight so to speak.   

Jaskier suddenly feels self conscious of his body, he has lost weight too, a shadow of his former sexy self. But Geralt doesn't seem to care. "This will help" Geralt deeps two fingers on the vial and Jaskier braces himself for the cold. Geralt has always been methodical and efficient in every task, but this time he's taking his time, applying the salve in small circles on his chest. Jaskier groans, the cold sensation is a relief but the contact hurts all the same. Geralt responds by placing one hand on the back of his head to guide him forward. 

Jaskier rests his forehead on the witcher's shoulder and stays still throughout the process. Geralt smells clean, like lemon soap. Jaskier breathes the scent of his favorite person in all the continent. Like earth and pines, no trace of Roach or onions. 

"Destiny is never wrong. I thought so too, but it has proven me wrong over and over again." Says Geralt above him, now making circles on his left side. "The dandelion on my arm kept me going after...after Renfri." Jaskier is shaking in pain and something more that hurts deeper. He never knew what really happened with Renfri, but he knew she was important to Geralt; he sometimes woke up imploring her name. "I killed her." 

“Geralt”  Jaskier whispers, placing a hand behind the witcher's back, to hold him as much as he can. Geralt is not applying the balm on his back.  

"She gave me no choice.” Jaskier nuzzles his face onto the witcher to offer comfort to both of them. "Your mark appeared a day before her death. I thought destiny was mocking me. A soulmate for a witcher? Come on. But it kept me going, you kept me going regardless of what I thought." Jaskier hisses when Geralt travels to his right side, it hurts the most there. He uses it as an excuse to press closer to the strong body holding him, or is it the other way around? "You've been traveling with me since then." 

"I bet it was quieter," Jaskier says, the fingers of his hand on Geralt's back twitching, caressing through the fabric. 

"Lonelier. Intolerable. A burden. But, yes, quieter" Jaskier hits him lightly on the back. 

Geralt untangle themselves to put Jaskier on the fresh bandages. He starts under Jaskier's armpit.. It's really not necessary but Jaskier presses again against the chest next to him, and Geralt lets him, even if it makes the wrapping a difficult task. 

"You are my destiny, Jaskier." and suddenly he's crying, struggling not to sob to avoid the pain, at least physically. Geralt holds him even after he finishes with the bandages and surprises Jaskier by placing a quick kiss on the top of his head. 

"It's late, you need to rest." Geralt steps aside to put the vial back in the wardrobe. Then he goes back to Jaskier to help him lay down. "Need anything else, water? to pee?" Jaskier smiles and shakes his head "Come here" he says instead "Closer…. Closer!"  When Geralt is close enough Jaskier surges forward as much as he can and places a kiss on the witcher's cheek, right below the eye. "You belong to me too, you know?" Geralt blinks fast "And now who has a fishy face?" It's funny how quickly he leaves the room. Jaskier sleeps with a smile on his face. 

-

"I've never seen Geralt like that. He's making an effort, for once." 

"Yenn, I..."

"Save it, bard. Believe it or not, I'm weirdly ok with whatever you two idiots have." 

"We are not..." 

"There is no a not between you. Was about damn time if you ask me" 

"Yen, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. What we had was not real. You two are. Do yourself a favor and don't make this easy for him."

-

The day he is able to get up, with a lot of help, he asks Geralt if he can go down for dinner.  

Geralt grabs him by the waist to support his weight all the way down the stairs. Halfway through he starts to regret his decision, with every step the pain grows until he's sweating all over. He hates sweating. The other witchers are already seated on the tables of the main hall, eating and drinking. As soon as he enters everyone grows quiet. He's heaving and groaning which makes him feel embarrassed. In a keep full of strong majestuous Witchers, a weak bard with a few broken ribs it's a nuisance. Geralt helps him sit on the closest table and then goes to the kitchen to fetch them their meal. "Good evening" Jaskier says as loud as he can muster. No one answers. Maybe it will be better if he goes back to his room. And then, Lambert stands up from his seat on another table and goes to sit across from him. Soon after the other witchers follows him, taking their bowls and beers with them. He's suddenly surrounded by handsome and fearsome witchers, Ciri too sits next to him. "We, uhmm, we wanted to, you know?" Lambert makes a complicated gesture with his hands that Jaskier absolutely doesn't understand. “Yeah, so…”   

Cöen slaps him on the head and adds "We wanted to thank you, for saving our cub. For putting your life on the line for her, for us." 

"You don't have to." 

"Oh but we do." Says Vesemir who's entering the hall with Geralt on his back. Geralt reaches his side and offers him a bowl of stew and a piece of fresh bread. "Lambert" Vesemir calls for the younger wolf. 

"Yeah and we are sorry too for not welcoming you properly. We're idiots." 

"We?" says someone in a mocking tone. 

But before Lambert can answer Vesemir interferes "This is a safe place for you, bard." and Jaskier hears this is your home and feels himself crying, but refrains from it. “You’re welcome here anytime”. 

-

"You need shaving," Geralt offers one evening. Which leads Jaskier to be sitting in front of the window with a generous amount of foam on half of his face.  

Geralt is hovering over him with a very dangerous dagger on his hand "You sure this is safe?"

"You better be still." 

"Oh, come on!" Geralt rumbles a laugh and begins to slide the blade with utmost care on the bard's throat. Jaskier watches him mesmerized, completely at his mercy. He could die here, under the eyes like suns warming his skin. He likes this Geralt who's not afraid of touching and caring. He likes to feel loved by his soulmate. "The Djinn taught me that I could lose you." He also likes this Geralt who talks about the past and his feelings, he's nice.  "When I looked at you on Yenn's bed I thought about Renfri. I wanted to wish for destiny to free you and Ciri from me. But I fucked up. I took away Yennefer's choice in the process. Of wanting nothing and wanting no one to need me, I ended up hurting you, all of you." Geralt cleans the excess of foam with a clean cloth, he has finished shaving him but he hasn't stepped aside. Instead he lingers with the cloth on Jaskier's mouth "If only I hadn't made that third wish, not the way I did." 

"It's done, darling, don't beat yourself over it anymore." Geralt's fingers twitch against his bottom lip, the cloth suddenly forgotten. "Maybe I wouldn't have wasted as much time as I did." 

Jaskier raises his hand, withholding the pain, to take Geralt's hand to place kisses on the fingers. "There's still time" 

Geralt laces their fingers together and leans down to kiss the back of Jaskier's hand. They are so close, but still too scared. 

"How do I look?" Jaskier asks, "Good." Geralt lets go of his hand with a growing smile on his face. 

"Oh, come one, I'm sure you have a better review on my looks..."

"You look beautiful". 

-

"I can finally raise my arms to reach for things, it doesn't hurt as much anymore." 

"You're still a duck" Says Lambert while chewing on a bone, these witchers don't have an ounce of decency.

"A sexy duck though." 

“Sure.” 

"Geralt, would you mind passing me that tankard? I want to throw it at Lambert." 

"Yes, love." Geralt answers without thinking and they all stiffen. 

"What did you call him?"

"Yes, what did you call me?" 

"I knew it!" Cries Ciri from the other side of the room. If witchers could blush, Geralt would be the color of a ripe tomato. Triss is giggling and Vesemir is so done with his wolves. 

"I'm going to call my soulmate whatever I want."  Geralt finally emerges from his embarrassment, taking the tankard and passing it to Jaskier.  

"Yeah, he's calling me whatever he wants" Says Jaskier just before throwing the tankard at Lambert's head. 

"Ten points!" Ciri yells

"Five!" yells Geralt back from somewhere. 

-

"Love, uh?" Jaskier teases him.

"I'm sorry." Geralt sighs "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable"

"Me? Puff! no, not at all. On the contrary" By this point Jaskier has reached the witcher by the wardrobe, he takes the clothes that he is folding and places it inside without care.  

"Surprised? yes. Uncomfortable? no." Geralt groans and Jaskier identifies it as embarrassed. Aren't they domestic? Ugh, Jaskier could throw up and probably Geralt too. 

Jaskier grabs him by the waistline of his trousers to pull him towards him. In another time that gesture would have been too flirty for Geralt, now he welcomes it. 

"Why now, Geralt?" the witcher in question who was distracted by the bard's proximity until now replies. "What?"

"I told you, I don't want this just because I died." And just like that the conversation shifts to one that could leave them both hurt. 

"No." 

"No? Then it's because you're no longer with Yen?" oh, that does hurt like shit. But they have to have this conversation, Jaskier has to make sure. 

"What? No. I'm not with her because it wasn't real" 

"It seemed pretty real to me," says Jaskier petulantly. Geralt took him by the elbows bringing him impossibly closer. His hands travel down to Jaskier's forearm leaving a trace of embers behind. 

"This is real." Geralt whispers and caresses the mark on Jaskier's wrist. His mark. 

"Since when?" 

"Since the beginning."

"That's not true, Geralt. Don't lie to me." the bard's voice brakes but doesn't falter. 

"I'm not." Jaskier tries to get away but Geralt holds him. "I've always wanted you. That's the reason I wanted so desperately be away from you."

"How reassuring."

"You're perfect for me, Jask. No one else is. A bard who talks and talks to compensate for what I won't say. A noble who left behind everything to follow a witcher and follow his dreams. A poet, the occasional thief and mediator. Many of my hunts could have gone wrong without you, especially the payment.” They laughed in unison. And then Geralt took him by the chin and looked into his eyes. "These eyes..." says Geralt like a prayer "Beautiful," Jaskier felt like a teenager all over again, that eighteen year old boy who found his soulmate in a shitty tavern and didn't know what to do with his beating blushing heart. 

"Why now?" Jaskier asks again, looking into the witcher's eyes, he finds something he has always wanted but never dared to expect. 

"I was a coward, and I was afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore" There's so much emotion inside Geralt right now, he doesn't know what to do with them. He's been afraid of them all this time. He rests his forehead against Jaskier and breathes in his scent. He smells like orange blossom and rain. 

"Then don't be." 

"Jaskier," Jaskier's heart breaks a little.

"My soulmate." whispers Jaskier against his ear "Let it go." 

"Would you let me?" Geralt asks, now buried on Jaskier's shoulder. "I understand if you don't, I don't deserve you after what I did..."

"Let it go, darling. I've got you." 

Geralt nuzzles the tender skin where shoulder meets neck, and plants a kiss there. "My soulmate."

Something shifts in Geralt, he grabs Jaskier by the hips and surges forward, their lips colliding. They kiss like drowning people, and maybe they were. It's everything a kiss with your soulmate should be, full of longing, love and devotion. Their tongues dancing, savoring each other. Geralt groans, his soulmate tastes wonderful. Jaskier tries to lift his hands to guide Geralt's kisses, a fucking mistake, he doubles over in pain breaking the moment, in the only way he can. By being stupid. 

Geralt's worried expression appears in his line of vision "Did I hurt you?" Jaskier laughs but that brings even more pain.   

"No dear. It's my fault. Why don't we take this kissing session to my bed so I can't hurt myself anymore." 

"We're not fucking, Jaskier." Adds Geralt exasperated. 

"Now, that's a thought." 

"Jaskier." warns Geralt.

"No, truly I need to lay down, I think something broke."

On the bed, Geralt lays next to him. They kiss and caress under clothes carefully. Jaskier loves him so much. His soulmate, his witcher, his Geralt. 

"You know people say that sex with your soulmate is amazing." 

"Jaskier, no." 

"Jaskier, yes!"

This is it, folks! As usual sorry for the mistakes, bla bla bla.

Hope you like it. I don't have the time to edit it :( I'm an adult.

@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @fintenciate @kore888 @geekymagicalpotato @gregre369 @theshapeofcool @janjan-the-ninth @zarakem @j-u-s-tmyself @life-as-a-gamergirl @melodymeddler @lawrites07 @youknowwhoiam3490-blog @help-help-i-need-an-adultlt @janjan-the-ninth @strangerzaiah @everything-but-the-not-natural /

Sorry if I forgot to tag someone, love you <3 stay safe and drink water

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#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #the witcher netflix #The amazing devil references #blink and you miss it #jaskier x geralt #soulmate geraskier #soulmates #true love #soul connection #Geralt is an idiot but is our idiot #Jaskier's idiot

[ladyannemarie5]

So... Remember my old post of WarLord!Geralt searching for the bard and discovering that Jaskier is Radovid's consort in Redania?

You can see it here

Well, I couldn't stop thinking about that and here's just part of what I've come up with so far. 

Caution: Lots and lots of text. Almost 2k words.

-----

Geralt's first formal order as Warlord of the North is to search the continent for the bard Jaskier.

Five years have passed since Geralt last saw Jaskier. Five years since the mountain disaster and the day Geralt made the bard believe that the greatest blessing of his life would be to get rid of him.

Since then, Geralt has found his surprise child, resolved his issues with Yennefer and formed a new empire under his and the other witchers' command. And there hasn't been a single moment when he hasn't regretted pushing his bard away. 

That is why, as soon as political things settle down and his mainly non-human subjects begin to form real households, the new warlord sends all available people to search for the man who made him White Wolf.

He knows from Yen, that Jaskier became the Sandpiper, so he has the witchers approach the smuggling network to help the refugees get to his new realm and also to gather as much information as they can about the poet's whereabouts. 

They hear rumors and whispers about the famous bard Jaskier singing in taverns and famous courts, but every time they reach the last place where he was seen, it turns out that the bard has already departed. It also seems that 20 years at the side of a witcher have made him very good at running away from them without a trace. 

Geralt grows more desperate by the day. He wants to apologize to Jaskier, he wants to tell him how sorry he is and how much he wants him to come back to him, because he is finally ready to stop running away from his feelings. He needs Jaskier by his side, either as his lover or simply as his friend. He just needs to know that the poet is safe and sound.

That's why his heartbeat stops for a moment when new information arrives from the bard. It turns out that Nilfgaard beat him to it and captured Jaskier months ago. 

Geralt moves all his people to search for the place where the bard is being held prisoner until they finally find the small fort where their sources say he is. Geralt himself leads the attack.

Everyone is really confused when they break through the entrances and discover that there is no one alive there. There are only remnants that there was once a small army operating in the place but they fled some time ago. 

Unfortunately, there are also remnants of torture in one of the fort's dungeons. Geralt feels an immense urge to vomit as he enters the place and the smell of Jaskier's blood reaches his nostrils. His eyes sting with tears of anger and sadness when he finds a piece of blue silk in one of the corners. His anger and grief increase when they find a funeral pyre on the outskirts of the site. Jaskier is gone forever.

Shortly thereafter, the University of Oxenfurt issues a statement mourning the death of its greatest teacher and legend, the bard Jaskier. Apparently, a Redanian convoy was on a reconnaissance mission when they found a fort with remnants of Nilfgaard troops. Upon entering they discovered that the soldiers had already left but had left the body of a man in one of the dungeons. One of the men, apparently a fan of the bard, recognized his belongings and alerted his superiors to the man's identity. Jaskier's body was burned by the Redanians due to the advanced state of decomposition. All that remained was a broken elven lute that was given to the university as proof of the poet's death.  

Geralt demands that the lute be given to him. Eskel and Lambert are required to hold it when the dean refuses to give the instrument to the witcher on the grounds that Jaskier himself had left them to them in his will. The document firmly states that all of the bard's possessions were to pass to the university to dispose of as they see fit. 

Geralt cries for the first time in years when he finds out. Officially, he has nothing left of his bard. 

The Sandpiper network continues to operate as usual, at least for a while since the discovery of the fort, until something incredible happens: Redania enacts a new law saying that all elves, dwarves and other non-humans would no longer be persecuted, and could even choose to be legal citizens of Redania. 

Years pass since then. Ciri, Yen, Triss and his brother witchers remain by his side and life on the continent continues almost unchanged as the White Wolf finishes consolidating himself as a monarch of a strong and prosperous territory. The hope that Jaskier will one day appear alive and singing about the Warlord every day fades. They hadn't seen the body and when Yen wanted to use a tracking spell with the lute just to make sure, it led to nothing.

And then politics suffers another attack: King Vizimir of Redania is murdered. Yen says that rumors point to his own brother, Prince Radovid, being the one who murdered him, as he was crowned that very night at the side of his lover, a random nobleman named Julian. Geralt does not doubt it. Humans are cruel and ambitious.

The obligatory mourning passes slowly, one day all the kingdoms (except Nilfgaard) are summoned to celebrate the new king and his consort. To the surprise of everyone in Kaer Morhen, the White Wolf and his entourage are invited to the celebrations. Yen and Triss say that it would be rude not to go, as Redania fully recognizes their kingdom unlike other territories, so it would be beneficial for Geralt to attend and seal ties with a kingdom as powerful as Redania. 

Geralt wants nothing more than to stay in Kaer Morhen and continue to evade the outside world. Jaskier is no longer in it so there is nothing interesting out there. But he knows it's inevitable that he will attend the Redania celebrations, and Yen is right, it's a great opportunity. So he and his entourage leave for the kingdom. 

They are greeted in a grand manner, just like any other monarch and his entourage. Redania has shown that he wants to form ties with Kaer Morhen, so Geralt decides that he will do his best to make it all go well. It seems that King Radovid himself and his consort will welcome them once they have settled in properly. 

Geralt feels all the air leave his lungs, his head feels heavy and in turmoil, and he thinks he will burn Redania to the ground for such an offense. Next to King Radovid, stands a man with blue eyes and brown hair. A man resembling Jaskier stands right there, his arm resting on the king's arm. 

He introduces himself as Julian Alfred Pankratz, formerly Viscount of Lettenhove, now royal consort to King Radovid.

Yen cannot help but advance to him with a murderous look. He magically probes him and in an icy voice lets them all know that he really is Jaskier, the bard dead years ago. Julian replies that it's really good to see everyone once again. 

The welcome feast begins. Geralt can't take his eyes off Jaskier. The king and his consort act like any normal couple, both conversing with each other, together and very intimate. Geralt feels his stomach churn. 

At some point in the night, Julian manages to sneak into Geralt's room. He silently asks the Witcher to verify that no one is listening and that there are no traces of magic around. Geralt confirms that they are alone. 

Geralt has many questions, but he can't say any. Not with the man he thought was dead in front of him. But he finally gets something out of his mouth, asking for explanations. 

Julian tells the witcher that after the mountain he traveled for a while by himself, but seeing the injustices to the elves and other non-humans made him want to do something. With his contacts in the RSS he became the Sandpiper. He would go back and forth from Oxenfurt to other places on the continent to recruit new people into the network. During his stays in Oxenfurt and thanks to Philippa and Dijkstra, he met Prince Radovid. 

Geralt's heart breaks when he hears from the bard how lonely and desperate he felt until Radovid came into his life.

"By the time I realized it, I was lost and hopelessly in love with Radovid," he tells Geralt. 

The warlord can't help but mention that the bard fell in love with a king-killer. Julian jumps to his consort's defense and tells Geralt everything. 

Philippa and Dijkstra want to take Redania to war against Nilfgaard, they assassinated Queen Hedwig to make Vizimir give in to their advice, however, the king didn't. The two councilors then went to harass Jaskier, threatening his job as the Sandpiper to tell them the location of Geralt and Ciri, so they could use it as political leverage against Nilfgaard. Of course the bard refused. 

So Jaskier was kidnapped and tortured by Nilfgaard to find out the location of Geralt and Ciri. Radovid, madly in love and worried about Jaskier, set out to look for him everywhere, until he was finally found dying in the fort. Philippa and her magic saved him. 

Radovid, concerned for the bard's safety, proposed to him to fake his death in order to drive away all those who were looking for him, including the man who despised him on a mountain. Jaskier accepted on the condition that he stop pursuing the elves. 

As the announcement of Jaskier's death shook the entire continent, he and the prince planned to leave the castle and travel together, away from the intrigues of the court. Vizimir, happy for his brother, immediately agreed to let them both leave as long as they accepted his help and communicated constantly. The night of their departure, Vizimir was assassinated. 

Geralt is shaken when Jaskier tells him that Philippa and Dijkstra killed Vizimir so they could manipulate Radovid and take Redania to war. The new king is stalling as long as possible, but there is no denying the influence of both advisors on the king's decisions. Geralt snarls when he learns that the sorceress and spymaster are threatening the former bard's life to make Radovid do as they command. 

Jaskier knows that Geralt hates him, that he is not complying with the one thing he has asked of him, but he needs him to get Dijkstra and Philippa out of the picture so he can save Redania and his lover from going to war. And so he lets the witcher know. 

------

And well, that's it. At least until now. 

I want to clarify that anyone who wants to write this has my absolute permission to do so, just tell me so I can read it because I definitely don't think I'll write it myself. If you want to comment on something, another idea, another point, an insult, change something to this. etc., you are welcome to do so. I don't usually reply much but I really do read everything posted on Tumblr. 

Thanks if you read all this verbal vomit and apologies once again for the huge amount of words.

#I really wanted to put my version and give my ideas #a lot of text #feel free to take the idea and write it down #just tell me so I can read it #anything is welcome #you decide who jaskier stays with #but to be honest in my heart he stays with Radovid #jaskier #the witcher #radovid #radskier #geraskier #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #bunny plot

[samstree]

in other words (please be true)

A secret santa gift for dear @lamberts, hope your year is full of good sleep and love! 💖 (2.2k �� AO3)

“Jaskier,” Geralt says with his eyes closed.

“Hmm?” A slight shuffle, the sound of Jaskier burrowing into the cover.

“Go to sleep.”

A puff of breath ghosts over Geralt’s cheeks. The pillow under his ear is soft, a nice spot to stay forever like this.

“I am,” Jaskier answers, carefully.

“Your eyes are still open.” Geralt doesn’t even need to look to know, with Jaskier’s gaze on the back of his eyes.

“They’re not,” Jaskier lies again with a smile in his voice.

Sighing, Geralt leans forward to press a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, down his eyebrow, and then lightly, on the tip of his nose. He rests a hand over Jaskier’s back, patting a gentle rhythm. It’s a trick he’s learned to get Ciri to fall asleep quickly.

Jaskier sinks into the bed further, but Geralt can practically hear the sound of him blinking. The feeling of being closely observed by Jaskier is not a bad one. It’s just a small weight of attention, a warm tingling on his senses, a safe kind of being seen.

Still, the subtle hint of exhaustion threads into the thrumming of Jaskier’s heartbeat, just on the edge of too light and too quick.

“It’s late, and you are tired,” Geralt shushes again under his breath. “Close your eyes.”

“They are closed.”

Shamelessly, Jaskier keeps looking, so Geralt lets him for a few moments longer.

The fire crackles as Geralt keeps his eyes shut—opening them would mean admitting defeat. He’d be giving up on the attempt to sleep, and he’s reluctant to do so just because Jaskier wants to be a cheeky liar.

Without looking, he can picture Jaskier perfectly—lying on his side, face only inches away. The night is dark, and so are Jaskier’s eyes, peeking from under the covers with his face hidden. Age has never taken away that mischievous glint in those eyes, nor the overflowing adoration resting in the crow’s feet at Jaskier’s temple. Without looking, Geralt knows he’s being seen with love.

His lungs expand, filled with the familiar scent of Jaskier, and then, he opens his eyes.

There Jaskier is, safe in their bed, the lower half of his face hidden under the cover. The smile is unmistakable when his eyes are curved like this, showing those beautiful crow’s feet. Upon seeing Geralt is wide awake, his eyes light up even more, nearly gleaming with excitement in the dim firelight.

“Oops,” Jaskier murmurs. “You’ve caught me.”

“As if you regret it.”

“Who says I don’t?”

Letting out a deep breath, Geralt searches for Jaskier’s hand under the covers, his limbs all slow and lazy, heavy from a day’s journey. Jaskier meets him halfway, links their fingers together and brings Geralt’s hand to his lips.

“Hey,” Geralt greets him as if they didn’t say goodnight mere minutes ago. A content hum rumbles quietly as his hand is being kissed.

“Hey,” Jaskier greets him in return.

They lie there, blinking slowly in the warm nest of their bed. There are faint bruises under Jaskier’s eyes from days of traveling. He truly is exhausted, and Geralt’s heart twists in sympathy.

“The only thing you’ll regret tomorrow is the lack of sleep.” He squeezes Jaskier’s hand in worry. “Come on, stop staring.”

Jaskier only shakes his head. “No.”

“Jask.”

“I didn’t ride for days just to not look at your face, witcher.” Jaskier’s lips purse into a displeased line. “I’ve waited for months. Months, Geralt. Do you know how long they last when you are away?”

Geralt is too aware, because those months stretched out in Jaskier’s absence as if they’d never end. The empty bedroll beside him grew cold every morning when he reached out, but he kept reaching anyway.

“So you’ve decided to never take your eyes off of me again?” Geralt asks. “Even at night, just to make up for those months?”

“You tease me for missing you.” Jaskier pouts, wounded as if he’s suffered great unfairness.

“I tease you for being unreasonable.”

Geralt wraps an arm behind Jaskier’s back again and begins running soothing circles, inching forward until Jaskier fits into the curve of his body.

“Perhaps I am,” Jaskier whispers, his breath warm against Geralt’s neck. “When we were apart, I’d close my eyes and picture all the details of your face. I was quite proud for remembering well, but my imagination could never compare. You see, you’ve changed in my absence.”

“I did?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier touches his forehead to Geralt’s in confirmation. “You always change when I’m not there. I merely wanted to record the differences for my imagination. So next time, I’ll be more accurate.”

Geralt aches at the thought of separating from Jaskier again. “You understand we need to part, do you? Between your job and mine, it’s the way it is.”

Jaskier swallows. “Yes, for a few years at least. We have our plan, so I understand. Doesn’t make it easier.”

With that, Jaskier looks down at where their hands link. For the first time, a real sense of tiredness weighs on his frame, shrinking his presence, and it makes Geralt feel wrong-footed in a million ways. It just won’t do. Geralt hates it when Jaskier takes up less space.

“No. It’s never easy,” Geralt agrees, rather urgently. “It’s the same for me. I…I’d pretend you were with me too.”

“You would?”

Geralt nods. “Our bedroll felt too big. I kept trying to find you at night, only to remember you weren’t there. Even Roach sensed I was sad.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I am. Shouldn’t have made fun of you.” Geralt pulls Jaskier closer to lay on his shoulder, securing the comfortable weight of his bard at his side.

“You can’t stop making fun of me even if you wanted to. I don’t know why I’m sweet on you,” Jaskier mumbles into Geralt’s shirt. “Perhaps I shall forget about your face altogether and let you suffer in unrequited longing.”

With a huff, Geralt pulls away, wrapping a hand around Jaskier’s chin. “My, my, have mercy. I won’t survive.”

“So you’ll let me stare now?” Jaskier perks up, his face open and earnest. “I don’t ask for more, only a few stolen moments at night.”

Jaskier still talks about Geralt’s love as if it is something he cheated out of the universe, as if he can only steal moments of affection in the darkness of the night. Even after all these years, he treats Geralt like it’s a privilege to love him, to be loved by him.

Suddenly, he never wants Jaskier to stop looking.

“Stare all you want,” he answers. “Look all you want. Remember all of me, but know you can ask for more. Always.”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkle with a coy smile, the lower half of his face swallowed by the soft cover once again. “Always is a long time. I’d never sleep if you kept letting me get my way. You’d be dealing with a cranky, sleep-deprived bard every morning.”

“Hmm. A compromise, perhaps,” Geralt says. “A deal. Look all you want, but if you sleep early enough, I’ll get you those strawberry tarts you like in the morning.”

“With honey tea?”

“With honey tea,” Geralt confirms. “You can stay here comfortably, with your tea and breakfast. It’ll also be snowing in the morning, I can smell it in the air.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes hopefully, “you know I cannot refuse a lazy morning in bed. With snow, no less. This is the highest form of bribery, I’ll have you know. It’s put me in a rather difficult position.”

“Look your fill, bard.” Geralt raises his eyebrows, his hand sneaking up Jaskier’s back again, patting gently. “I won’t mind, but think of the price you’ll be paying.”

Jaskier squints, studying Geralt with a wicked look.

“There is one thing different about you, now that I’m paying attention,” he says. “You’ve grown cunning while I wasn’t here. It’s not a good look, darling. I liked it better when I could get away with anything.”

“I learned it from the best.” A human’s heartbeat thrums under a witcher’s callused fingertips, and Geralt keeps his touch patient. “What else is different about me?”

Jaskier reaches out for the stray hair at Geralt’s temple. “Lots of things. Your hair, for one. It was too short when we parted. Kept getting into your eyes. Now, I think I can braid it again.”

“In the morning, then,” Geralt offers another bribery. “And?”

“You have a new scar. Right here, by your collarbone. Is it a scratch? A vicious beast, perhaps?”

“The most vicious.” Geralt winces. “A stray cat by the road.”

Jaskier gasps, soothing the claw marks, hissing in sympathy. “What? Have you still not given up on petting them? Geralt, you know they attack witchers on sight!”

The orange little thing liked Roach fine, purring and rolling by her feet in the sunbeam, so Geralt made the mistake of letting down his guard too soon. It’s been a century of feline injuries; he really should have learned.

“I’ll live, Jask. Don’t you fret.” He catches Jaskier’s hand and kisses his palm. “Anything else?”

“Hmm, let’s see. I don’t see other signs of your foolishness.” Jaskier recoils a little when Geralt’s stubble scratches the sensitive skin of his wrist. “Except you are not taking care of yourself again, despite all my nagging letters. You know I love your face as it is, dearest, but this beard needs some upkeep.” His voice drops to seriousness, a hint of worry hanging by his pursed lips. “You’ve also gotten thin, just a little bit.”

Jaskier looks saddened by the thought, his fingers now tracing the sharp lines of Geralt’s cheekbone.

“You know how winters are,” Geralt says, his chest warm from the sense of being protected. It’s a rare feeling, but here Jaskier is, fussing over a witcher who is only meant to protect others.

“I know it gets like this. But again, it doesn’t make it easier.”

Jaskier sighs, brows knitted and deep in thoughts. They are no doubt thoughts of pampering Geralt over the entire winter now that they are together. He’d be mentally arranging all those sweet treats Geralt likes, or even contemplating cooking by himself again. Hopefully not—the kitchen can’t take another burning.

It’s too ridiculous a sight, Jaskier exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, worrying over Geralt’s missed meal or two.

“Hey,” Geralt calls out, interrupting. “I know something hasn’t changed.”

“Hmm?”

He always knows another trick to put Jaskier to sleep.

With their bodies tangled up and breaths mingling, Geralt kisses Jaskier sweetly and lazily. He sets a languid pace, a gentle exploration, a quiet homecoming. They exchange soft hums between pleasant teasing, but it never goes beyond what it is. Geralt simply kisses Jaskier, coaxing him to lie back and bask in the attention.

“Is it the same?” Geralt breathes, pressing another small kiss on Jaskier’s grin.

“Better, even.” Jaskier blinks slowly, his eyelids growing heavy despite the grin on his face. “Something else hasn’t changed.”

“Oh?”

“The way you look at me.”

Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, studying the light fluttering of his lashes in the dim light. He’s looking right into all that is kind in the world, all that is his.

“And how do I look at you?” Geralt asks.

“Like I’m a secret you get to keep,” Jaskier answers.

For a moment, the world disappears and all that’s left is them, being here, a secret Geralt never thought he could keep.

Jaskier’s hand falls next to the pillow, where Geralt threads their fingers together. He’s almost entirely resting on top of Jaskier, but he knows the weight is welcomed. It makes Jaskier feel safe enough to be humming that pleasant sound, and most importantly, it makes Jaskier sleepy.

“My secret. Mine. How did that happen?” Geralt muses as Jaskier lets out a yawn. He chuckles. “You know, we can always pick this up tomorrow.”

Under him, Jaskier is all sprawled out and squirming, pressed into the mattress and melted into a puddle of contentment.

“Not tomorrow, no. More kisses for me…right now.”

“Hmm, another deal, then.” Geralt smiles wickedly, resting his head on the pillow, studying Jaskier’s silhouette. “More kisses, but only tomorrow morning. I’ll kiss you more when I have the strawberry tarts.”

A sad whine escapes Jaskier’s throat, but there is no fight behind the drowsiness. “Sabotage on top of bribery, depriving me of kisses. You are truly too cunning.”

“You can complain tomorrow.”

“And feed you strawberry tarts too.” Jaskier yawns again. “Must feed you treats. Keep you happy and healthy.”

“Tomorrow,” Geralt promises, watching Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth going slack. The quietness stretches on with only the fire crackling. The shadows dance around Jaskier’s features, warming his round cheeks, the rise and fall of his chest evening out.

It’s like Geralt could stay here all night, just counting all the ways Jaskier is safe and happy and comfortable.

“Your eyes are still open,” Jaskier whispers under his breath, half asleep.

“They are not,” Geralt lies.

“Liar.”

A small smile tugs at Jaskier’s lips as he drifts off. He lets out soft snores soon after, his pinkie still hooked with Geralt’s thumb.

Geralt stays there for just a while longer, reveling in not having to reach out for cold, empty sheets, and in not having to miss Jaskier like there is a bard-shaped emptiness in his heart.

He sleeps, knowing he won’t need to miss Jaskier for a while longer, knowing in the morning, he will have sweet treats to buy and his bard to kiss awake.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #secret santa exchange

[echo-bleu]

that thunder in your lungs (1/?)

Warlord!Geralt and Sandpiper!Jaskier angsty canon divergence, with bonus adorable kids and badass Yen. Inspired by @inexplicifics's wonderful AWAU.

The first rumours of a resistance network at the very heart of Redania, operating from under Vizimir’s nose out of Oxenfurt, came from the refugees. The armed branch, leading dangerous raids and protests across the kingdom under the moniker of Friends of Humanity, now has a reputation far past the borders, and their inflammatory pamphlets are reprinted in most of the northern cities, escaping censure and intimidation. But refugees referred again and again to a more secretive side to the resistance, one dedicated to rescuing and smuggling non-humans out and passing intelligence.

And behind it all is the elusive Sandpiper, the hand who writes the pamphlets. They know nothing of the man, save that he is human and an incredible wordsmith.

Footsteps ring out down the corridor, and Geralt springs to his feet, immediately regretting Eskel’s warmth. He growls an “Enter,” at the knock on the door, straightening his gambeson.

The superintendent is preceded inside by the reek of fear. Geralt glares at him in annoyance, and he cowers back imperceptibly, before bowing deeply.

“The Sandpiper has arrived, my Lord.”

“Alone?” Eskel asks.

“No, he’s accompanied by two people. A man and a woman.”

“Show them to the council room,” Geralt says, referring to the room they’ve appropriated for their meetings. “Yen, I want you there. Eskel, Lambert, Coën, with me. Merek to stand guard.”

Read the rest on AO3.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskefer #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #that thunder in your lungs #echo's fanfiction

[0dde11eth]

Geralt has witcher hearing. He's also super awkward in social situations. He also really, really, really likes the cute bard that's been following him around.

So after he finally asks jaskier out on a date he's both excited and terrified. What if he screws this up? What if he says or does something stupid?

Cue Eskel and Lambert sitting in the resturant a few tables over telling him what to say. All the witchers can hear each other perfectly, and luckily jaskier seems none the wiser.

One issue with this setup that none of the kaer morons thought of before this date. None of them have ever been on a date. And none of them agree on the proper social protocols. Lambert and eskel spend the entire time bickering about how to respond to jaskiers questions and how to act around him.

Geralt just gets more confused as the date goes on, more closed off as he internally panics about how badly he's going to mess this up.

Jaskier notices geralt withdrawing and also becomes more uncomfortable because he thinks geralts regretting this date.

Of course it all comes to a head at the end of the date, jaskier finds out but luckily thinks it's cute and hilarious. "But how about our next date is just the two of us?."

#my nonsense #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #kaer morons #another day in kaer morhen #lambert #eskel

[crabs-brencil]

ugh the second pacific rim makes me so sad because like. it's this insane amalgamation of what could've been, and im sure other people have said this before but whatever i just rewatched it and im in my feels rn so buckle up ig.

firstly - acghfshg they literally got rid of all of silly little things that made the first pacific rim *pacific rim*, except for the like two occasions when they didn't. like. soundtrack?? where did it go?? there was one (1) scene that had any sort of soundtrack usage the way the first movie did it, and it was a callback scene to the first movie. and the first pacrim was rife with ridiculous action-hero quips (think raleigh's bro saying "let's turn up the heat" in the middle of a fight) which pacrim 2 did try to do but it was so painfully a product of it's time bc dear god does it take itself way too seriously for any of the quips to land. not saying that john boyega didn't have his moments but like. they were the type of moments you'd find in any movie produced in that time.

secondly - charlie day and burn gorman put their whole actussies into that performance -- because goddamnit pacrim 2 was supposed to be an ode to hermann and newt's relationship -- only to get shafted at the last hour. like seriously their arc in pacrim 2 is so fucking heartbreaking, the two of them going from being so in tune with one another as they were at the end of pacrim 1 to drifting so far apart over ten years. and you can tell that they don't really want to believe that they don't really know each other anymore either, because like come *on* the sheer apprehensive hope on hermann's face when he first comes up to newt, and the way his face just *falls* when he asks "you won't help me?", and newt letting himself get dragged away and letting hermann go on even though he's clearly in a rush. and the way the both of them try to ignore how they've both changed over the past decade, because they have changed out of sync, and changed away from each other, and they both remind the other of what it used to be like, but it doesn't feel the same anymore because it isn't the same and just. ugh. that proverb about men and rivers. and like you can tell that what's left of newt is like. punching the prison walls of his brain, because of the sheer regret in his face when he has to hurt hermann, or the way he tries to avoid shit talking hermann when his boss clearly expects it of him. and obviously hermann having to see his friend disappear like that. going from hugging him outside the elevator because it was finally like the good old days again and they were on the same side and they would fight the bad guys and save the world again, to finding out that the person the world needed saving from was newt. and all that just to end the way it did. the both of them are entirely forgotten after hermann checks over the rocket plan and newt gets punched out.

and like obviously they were vying for a third movie because the set up for a newmann flavored reunion was literally right there, but like asfhjdg.

thirdly - mako's death??? that could've really been something, they could've used it to have like an actual lambert/jake moment, where they actually get to reconcile, but it might as well not have happened what with how the movie actually went about it.

bleh. im sure there's more to be said that im just forgetting about but whatever, it's way too late for me to care, and if any of the stuff ive said has been addressed in like interviews or smth, i wouldn't know about it as ive only seen the movies themselves and i don't particularly care to hunt down such footage.

anyways thanks for reading, if you've got this far you're a real one <3

#pacrim #pacrim 2 #pacific rim #pacific rim uprising

[bomberqueen17]

interested in your thoughts on the casting of Laurence Fishbone as Regis ? As someone who likes the show and also knows book and game content

I am a fan of Laurence Fishburne and have been impressed by him in every media property in which I have seen him perform. In terms of his appearance and demeanor-- well, Regis is only pretty minimally described in the books, and i think the most vivid description of him is at one point when he's at a dinner in a black velvet coat "looking very much like a vampire". I will say I'm glad they're casting people of color for not just villain roles (is it a spoiler that Vilgefortz is a huge villain? no we're to that point now in the show right?)-- I mean, in their defense, basically everyone in the novels is morally gray at best but it was a bit yikes to realize that the whitest actors are playing the characters we're most supposed to sympathize with and they both racebent Yennefer and gave her more morally-dubious things to do at the same time. Thanks guys. Regis is... has his dark past but at least he's unambiguously A Dude The Narrative Likes. You know? It's kind of a relief.

But my attitude toward the Netflix show is very much that I've taken what I needed and they can do whatever they like and I will probably watch it and enjoy some of the things, and I will probably hate some of the things, and that's just how it goes.

I'd love if he went more of a Cowboy Curtis direction with this than Morpheus, but again, they'll do what they want with this, and I'll enjoy what I enjoy and be annoyed by what annoys me and that's that. I'm not very like.... normal in my fannishness, but I also don't have a great visual imagination, so I have no concrete notion of what I expected Regis to look or sound like. Laurence Fishburne may well wind up fitting it perfectly and being my headcanon henceforth when I reread the books! I do like when that happens.

(Speaking of show stuff, I recently reread my whole Trust series with Keira and Lambert and man now that I've seen show!Keira I regret that she wasn't introduced until after I wrote all that, because I love her look SO much more than the video game character. However, the video game character being so obviously a male fantasy (and a boring one, at that) of what a sorceress might look like is kind of integral to the characterization in that series, so it's not like I could change it if I wanted. Ha maybe I should have Keira settle her appearance on show!Keira's as she's learning to like herself, that'd be kind of funny.)

#the witcher #witcher netflix #show casting #i'm not that invested in actors #and despite being a fan i'm not that invested in the series #genuinely they can do what they like and i hope it's entertaining #asks answered

[podcastenthusiast]

Lambert and Vesemir's whole dynamic in Witcher 3 is So Interesting.

Like, Lambert carries a lot of trauma about his childhood and being a witcher, and he harbors bitterness and resentment toward Vesemir specifically--or at least the system he represents. Vesemir is the only authority figure left to whom he can express his anger, true, but he also was complicit in the Trials happening and Lambert, rightfully so, isn't forgetting that.

When they all watch Uma writhe in pain from the Grasses, Vesemir says he hoped he would never have to see another person go through that again, and Lambert asks bitterly, but understandably, "Then why did you keep the table?"

His anger is valid! There's a measure of betrayal in that. It's like if someone stabbed you, then said they would never harm anyone else, and you find out years later they still have the knife.

I don't know why Vesemir kept that table, but it wasn't out of malice. It's clear it holds no pleasant memories for him either. Vesemir himself was put through the Trials once, and he has seen countless boys die. He cared about them and he hurt them. Clearly he feels sorrow and remorse, if not regret. He's trying, now, to do right by those few who remain. He loves them, okay? He really does.

Like Lambert, Vesemir also seems unable to let go of the past, though. The crumbling fortress and the table are reminders of everything he's suffered and lost, as well as the suffering he caused and witnessed.

They argue about it--whether to move on from Kaer Morhen, etc. Lambert detests any reminder of what was done to him. He claims to hate Kaer Morhen as a whole, too, probably does somewhat-- but he always comes back.

Lambert might hate Vesemir a little, might loathe how he never questions a witcher's purpose or the tests they were subjected to.

But here's the thing: Lambert still loves Vesemir. So fucking much.

He looks up to him, even. Maybe wants to be more like him. He talks about Vesemir more than anyone else. Quotes his words constantly. Tells Yennefer to show the old man respect. He dresses up like him when the kaer morons get drunk together. His impression of him is spot on. He'd hoped to inherit his sword someday.

Lambert, who blamed Vesemir for the deaths of the other boys and his hated witcher path, still wanted his old mentor to have a better death than he got.

He mourns him. They were family.

And yeah, Lambert's own father was an abusive dick, and I'm sure there's some of that tangled up in his feelings about Vesemir, too. Loving adults who've hurt you when you were a kid is complicated. It's painful and hard even when you know they were hurt, too, long before you were born. Lambert never forgave him and I doubt Vesemir expected him to.

I think Lambert sought something from Vesemir. Maybe an apology or answers or paternal approval--I don't know. I don't think he knew exactly how to ask for whatever it was he needed, and I don't think Vesemir was ever taught how to give it either.

Is it fucked up? Yeah. They all are. The generational trauma runs so deep.

#the witcher #witcher 3 wild hunt #the witcher 3 #vesemir #lambert #kaer morons #counselors shouldn't be allowed to play video games

[krikeymate]

transformations

A small post-movie introspection with Abigail.

For the second time, Abigail finds herself transformed.

A body whimpers and writhes beneath her hands, but she finds little joy in the display, mind stuck on the past 24 hours.

She replays it, over and over. Every moment, every detail. It had all been planned out, from each beat to step, a meticulously choreographed performance.

The dance had barely begun when the set began to crumble, and while she would love to rest the blame on her unruly little troupe, she is not her father, and she knows it is her and her alone who must take the fall.

Abigail had miscalculated. Plain and simple.

She thought she knew who she was playing with, she thought she’d had Lambert under her thumb. She’d mistaken a knight for a pawn.

As she feeds, Abigail contemplates these failures. She can admit to them, learn from them. Adapt.

Kristof Lazar, as he’s been calling himself these days, rules through fear and intimidation, a power cultivated from seeds planted in a time so long ago most cannot begin to comprehend its existence.

Abigail doesn’t have that. She’ll never have that.

But tonight, she thinks, tongue lapping at the dying trickle from a now still body, perhaps she has planted a seed of her own.

Joey’s moment of hesitation to leave, to leave her, despite all that had transpired, like a gallant knight waiting for dismissal, injured and scared but oh so ready to stay – it etches itself into her brain, where countless nights and days have flickered by; this one is cemented, another pillar constructed in the ever-expanding home of her psyche.

See you around, Joey.

She’d planted a seed indeed. One she intends to coax into bloom.

Her men are all loyal to her father, but that woman could be hers and hers alone.

The thought is so enticing it leaves her previously settled stomach hungry for more, ravenous for a treat she cannot have.

A part of her regrets not having a taste, not having claimed her for her own. She would relish the closeness, to examine the connection she had felt, to comb through the mind of Ana Lucia Cruz until there was nothing left untouched by her.

But Abigail, for all that she will ever remain a child, young for eternity, she’s had hundreds of years to evolve, and patience is a skill she’s long since mastered.

A careful nurturing will birth a garden; a flower plucked will wilt in the blink of an eye.

Even now, within her she can feel the weak and fading consciousness of a girl so much like her, a mind lost without a body.

Sammy. Jessica.

In this aftermath, Abigail finds herself twinging with regret. She understands her – young and talented, abandoned and ignored. They’re the same in a way, right down to the foreign fondness that spikes with every thought of their companion-in-common.

It is a shame that she had to be the one to get in her way, she too could have been groomed for so much more.

She wonders if it is crueller to stomp out this dying light that cowers in her mind, or to leave it be to live out as far as it can until it meets its true death. She finds herself lost for answers, and entirely unwilling to unmask that weakness to those that may have them.

With a growl, Abigail drops the corpse to the floor, altogether uncomfortable with the spectrum of emotions seeping from her, like she’s some fragile little girl and not the monster stalking the night that people fear.

It’s easy to blame the unfortunate human in her head for the unwelcome intrusion.

It’s time for her to do what she does best. Observe, and stalk, and hunt.

She hopes Joey will keep her word and go to her son, because Abigail will certainly keep hers.

See you around, Joey.

#/mp #Abigail #Abigail 2024 #my writing tag

[faery-the-diamond]

Hey narinder do you regret for what you did to the lamb and getting stuck in the crown, and have nightmares about all the other things you did to him.

And lamb do you forgive him after everything and even after him helping your cult and you out as well, and is there a way to get you out of the red crown yet or any kind of progress on it

Narinder: Really? Why would I? You're talking to a cult leader, hat's hardly the worst thing I had to do. Not to mention that he took my property. Trying to kill him wasn't my best decision, but I want to get him out, not cry about it.

-----------------

Lambert: "Helping out"? Do you mean me forcing him to sustain the cult because with me inside the Red Crown he literally has no other option? Uh-huh, sure...

Lambert: But as for getting me out, unfortunately, no clues yet. Although I'm feeling like Narinder is planning something... Or perhaps I'm just getting paranoid again.

#cult of the lamb #mercy gone wrong

[jaskiersvalley]

I love how just a simple GIF conveys more about your inner workings than the most elaborate epic ever could. The macaroni is stirred so beautifully, I can almost hear the sounds of it. Naturally, it has inspired something. So you'll take what you get, no apologies, returns or refunds offered.

Pavlov's Cat

Of all the philosophical questions to ponder, Lambert never thought he'd be staring into a pan and wondering whether the hunger or the horny came first. Even worse, it was at the ranch for the monthly family meal where it was his turn to cook. Not exactly talented in the culinary department, Lambert thought he'd go for the easiest option; macaroni and cheese. Oh how he regretted it.

Unfortunate musings were interrupted by Aiden's appearance, though he froze in the doorway, eyes wide with concern as the sound of Lambert's stirring registered.

"That sounds like-"

"Yep."

"Are you-?"

"Nope." Lambert paused and shifted uncomfortably. "Yep." Pulling the spoon out, he pointed it threateningly at Aiden. "Don't you tell a single soul or I will carve your heart out with this."

Snorting, Aiden shook his head. "What am I going to do? Wait for everyone to be sitting at the table before announcing 'by the way, Lamby got a stiffy from stirring the macaroni because it sounds exactly like vigorous figner fucking with excess lube'?"

The glare from Lambert suggested that was exactly what he was fearing and, to be honest, it was a very valid concern as that was exactly the kind of thing Aiden would do. Thankfully the family meal finished without a related incident though, as the food was served, Lambert didn't dare look at Aiden. His eyes were firmly fixed on his plate and he tried to eat as delicately and noise free as possible.

Going home in the evening, Lambert didn't even think twice about seducing Aiden, tugging him into the bedroom by the belt loop. One thing led to another, Lambert was busy between Aiden's legs, three fingers deep in him while leaving messy kisses on the insides of his thighs. He only stopped when Aiden twitched under him, a hum in his throat which definitely didn't sound like it belonged in the moment.

"You okay?" Lambert asked gruffly, hand also still.

"Yeah. Use a bit more lube?"

Worried that he hadn't been considerate and careful, Lambert quickly did as asked, spilling a generous amount over his fingers. Slowly sliding them back in, he watched Aiden for any sign of discomfort.

"Perfect. Think you could go faster?"

Ever the one to oblige, Lambert did as told. Yet the moment felt broken, Aiden seemed distracted despite his best efforts.

"Sure you're okay?"

Aiden pulled his arms away from his face, cheeks red. "Fine. Just-" he looked torn between laughing and dying of shame, "-did we, you know, bring any of the leftover macaroni home? I got hit by a sudden craving."

For a moment Lambert stared, trying to process the words. Laughter won out for Aiden and his muscles spasmed with it. Looking down at his hand, covered in lube, Lambert recalled the indecent noises they'd been producing. A bark of a laugh shot out of him and he pulled his fingers loose, slapping Aiden's thigh palyfully.

"You bastard."

What he didn't say was that he was also craving macaroni.

#lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #lambert #aiden #the witcher #tldr: stirring macaroni sounds like lots of lube in use

[thekingofwinterblog]

How Cole Became Human - Dragon Age

So in the Dragon Age Universe, amongst the countless, countless amounts of Abominations, demons, and spirits that end up on the physical side of the Veil, there are only two known cases where the beings that crossed turned, not into abominations, or a physical form of their fade self, but into actual people, with motivations, dreams, desires, fears, and all that comes with being a human being.

Cole, a spirit of compassion.

And Harren, a desire Demon.

Both of these are very, very interesting for a whole host of reasons, and the question of why these two turned out the way they are, are many.

The fact that this is not limited to either spirits or demons is interesting on it's own, but exactly what it was that made Harren so unique is hard to say when we dont know anything about his past other than the fact he presumably was pulled across the veil by the desires of his current lover Wade withouth needing a body to inhabit, and it all developed from there.

However, we can make some educated guesses from looking at Cole's past, and pinpoint the moment he turned from a spirit into a person.

Now anyone who has played inquisition knows Cole as a troubled, but well meaning cinnamon roll, who deserves the world. Knowing how he is now, it's easy to imagine his past as a serial killer murdering mages who wanted to die as a completely well meaning, but ultimately, terribly misguided soul

The truth however is much, much murkier than the image cole unitentionally presents in inquistion.

Cole during his days thinking he was a ghost in the White Spire and not knowing what he was, was a far, far darker creature than one might assume.

Now the actual, underlying motivation that Cole presents is true, his main reason for killing the mages was him believing that they really did want to die, and that he could help them by doing so... but that is not how Cole in the moment thought of it.

It's just how he in hindsight looks back at all of it, and has analyzed his own actions and the reasons behind them.

In the moment though, Cole didnt know anything. he didnt know why he was doing any of it, not truly. He felt that he was "Real" in those moment, that it was something he had to do in order to not cease existing basically.

He was terrified of ceasing to be, not knowing what he was, but killed the mages because he felt he had to do it, withouth really knowing why. When Cole speaks later of now knowing it was wrong, he isnt just talking about the fact that he stupidly missed that there were other, better ways to help people, but also just how misguided his complete lack of understanding and ability to affect his own impulses were, and the catastrophic results that lack of self control and knowledge led toi.

He was not withouth kindness and more noble trait, but Cole in Asunder, is a far, far more sinister, dark, cowardly and frankly disturbing individual.

even after his character development, the Cole at the end of Asunder, when he is confronted by Lord Seeker Lambert, and forced to confront what he is, seems a far, far cry from the Cole of inquisition, as the mocking of Lambert breaks him, breaks the belief that there was ever actually a cole, that he was anything but a stupid spirit that had convinced himself he was a person.

Which leads us to the moment that Cole actually becomes a person, in the time period between his banishment by Lambert, and the epilogue of Asunder, where he confronts, and kills the unarmored and unarmed Lambert.

The young man leaned close, his expression one of deadly intent.

"There was a Cole," he whispered.

"You forgot him in that cell, and I heard his cries when no one else would. I went to him, and held his hand in the darkness until it was over. When the templars found him, they erased everything to hide their shame . . . and I was helpless to act."

Sorrow, and perhaps even regret, crossed the young man's face, but only for a moment.

"I'm not helpless any longer." The words sent a chill through Lambert's heart.

"What do you want from me?"

The young man smiled coldly.

"I want you to look into my eyes."

Cole's actions here lines up perfectly with the later confrontation with the man who murdered the original Cole, a seething, burning rage, and making the choice to murder that son of a bitch with extreme prejudice.

And yet despite doing something that is completely, totally against everything that compassion is, Cole does not become a Demon.

at all. Despite all traditional knowledge about spirits becoming demons telling us that Cole should have become a demon here, he doesnt, despite his own fears.

And the original plans for his personal quest also adds to this, because there was going to be a choice to let him murder the piece of shit that left Cole in that cell... and he would not become a demon as a result, despite Varric and Solas fears during his quest.

Why?

Because it is his choice to do all of it. Spirits change when their original purpose is twisted by the direct actions and feelings of an outside force, usually a host, or a summoner... but there is no such here, either when Cole murdered Lambert, or in his personal quest.

Now you have the option of having Cole backtrack, become a spirit again by siding with Solas limited understanding of the situation, but im not here to talk about that route.

Im here to talk about the other route, where you reaffirm the path Cole Chose to go down when he killed Lambert for all his many, many sins.

He wanted Lambert to die, and he went through with it, all on his own choice. and by doing so he completely changed his very nature. We dont know how Cole learned about the details of the original cole, but it was the discovery of that path, and the resulting actions he took from that path, where he completely rejected the nature of what he embodied, that Cole became a true person, and changed his nature down to his bones.

That was the key.

With this in mind, it's not hard to see how Harren went down the same road.

Harren's entire dynamic with Wade, is that he is the businessman of the relationship, he is the one that has to reign in the genuis of his boyfriend in order to keep their business running, so Wade doesnt have to go back to "Living on Gruel".

In other words, he had to make a personal choice of his own free will, to act the complete opposite of a desire demon, just like Cole had to.

And the moment he did that, he became an actual person, with all the contradictions that involves... just like Cole did.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #dragon age awakening #cole #harren #wade #meta #spirits #demons #lord seeker lambert

[blaiddydbrokeit]

You know, when I rewatched the cutscene of Rufus' execution, something finally clicked. The whole time, there was always an odd emphasis on Rufus' question to Dimitri.

"But tell me something, boy. Does it trouble you to slay your own kin?"

This one line actually had two things it referred to.

One, the fact that Dimitri had to execute Rufus, his only living blood family left, publicly, no less.

And the other, the act that started it to begin with. Rufus' plot to kill Lambert and Dimitri, to force his way onto the throne.

Rufus' perception is clouded by paranoia and guilt. He's troubled by his own kins' blood on his hands, because it cannot be undone, regardless of how much he regrets the act and all the subsequent actions that only dig his own grave more and more.

He asks Dimitri that question, like he is projecting his inhumanity onto Dimitri, calling him a 'craven monster' for his desire to violently kill those responsible for the Tragedy in the name of vengeance - likely in say, the Western Rebellion that Rufus staged as a ploy to kill Dimitri off "in battle".

But when Dimitri falters, Rufus states that he did not expect Dimitri to be capable of sympathy - but that's the key here. The question prompts Dimitri to realize that while Rufus did commit treason in regicide, (as well as more personally, fratricide) he did feel guilty, has felt guilty for so long, that he understands and believes he deserves the punishment he is being given, no matter how terrified he is of it. And Dimitri can sympathize. So much so that he has to forcibly compose himself to follow through with the execution, because that's what he must do. He cannot let his soft, feeling heart stop him from letting the blade fall. And only after the deed is done - with no return, can he let his grief overwhelm him.

That one line always stuck out to me. And now, we can all know why.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #rufus thierry blaiddyd #fire emblem warriors three hopes #fire emblem three hopes #few3h #azure gleam

[gritsandbrits]

Eve Concept

In my rewrite/AU/whatever Eve ran away to the mortal realm after one too many put downs from the angels. She changes her name to "Evelyn Lambert" and takes up work in carpentry and repairs.

Avaline calls the business to fix a leaky faucet, Eve is sent and while working she notices that Flora bears a striking resemblance to her. She doesn't think much of it, later on Avaline goes to the shop to pick up an order, the two have small talk and find they have something in common.

Later on Eve discovers Ava and Evan are her great grandbabies, and strikes a reluctant agreement with Charlie and Lucifer to help train them.

Adam sees a chance to woo her back but she makes it clear she isn't up for his suave anymore...even if she hates to admit he still leaves her weak in the knees.

Red hair referencing clay/the red apple, and it's the color or love and passion

Her work outfit varies but she tends to wear comfy t shirts and overalls. Sometimes she likes to embroider with funky patterns

While passive and meek in the past, her time on earth made her more assertive

Thick brows like adam since she is made to be in his likeness somewhat

✨Curls✨ we bringing texture up in this BITCH

Hair used to be super long but over time she cut it short for manageability & to shed her old life

Used to wear pink blue and gold in heaven, now she wears variety of colors; essentially Rainbow/Multicolor themed

You can't see it but she has freckles

Definitely hippie/New Age vibes

Think of her as Miss Frizzle but more emotionally complex

Deeply regrets trusting Lilith and Lucifer so it was really REALLY hard for to accept Charlie

Her newfound independence terrifies and angers Adam...and arouses him....fuck...

Let's just say they're the most complicated exes ever

Dark brown eyes representing earth; also BROWN skin, I headcanon her to be MENA/african.

She eats just as many ribs as Adam.

Doesn't like apples but she do love oranges and honey on pears

Has a butterfly motif and wings symbolized her metaphorical death and rebirth into her own person

Thought about giving her a lioness motif to complement Adam's horns + lions protect the pride

Main flaw used her naivety and impulsiveness, now it's her distrust and low self worth; she's still kinda impulsive

Arc is realizing she has to accept her past and that she is allowed to find herself and breathe again, that not every mistake have devastating consequences

Mises Cain terribly, admits she forgives him for killing Abel

She's the one who gave Little Cloud (the purple lamb) to Abel

Bonds with Cassidy over their mutual interest in plants and religious trauma

Adores Flora, loves to talk about her kids with Flora and made sure Flora lives comfortably while temporarily stationed in heaven

Does stain glass projects too

#hazbin eve #eve oc #hazbin tag #hazbin oc #sketch #doodle #character concept #adam x eve #adam x oc

[surfdudeboy]

It has been a long time since Narinder felt anger at being supplanted by his destined vessel. Eventually he had found forgiveness, love, healing, and a happy home within the cult. However, he still held on to many feelings of guilt when he recalled how he treated the vessel that came before Lambert. It might be high time for him to express those regrets to him.

It's the least he deserves.

Holy heck! I did a thing!

*passes out*

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl ratau #cotl flinky #fanfic #cotl fanfic #Surf? With original content? #It's more likely than you think #my stuff #narilamb #ratausnake