I'm not a dumb-ass, I'm an easily confused ass.

Haley, She/Her, 22, white, Gay/Ace

[therealraewest]

A guy just came to my house while I was home alone to ask if I was single why are men like this

[therealraewest]

Okay y'know what I’m gonna soapbox for a hot minute

When I was in high school, a man who I’d thought was the parent of a school friend followed me out to the grocery store parking lot greenhouse where I worked. It was dark, and late, and it was me, alone, in a chain link enclosure with one exit and a register full of cash. He called me up to the fence and asked if I wanted to get dinner, or go dancing. I was scared and shaking and told him no several times, and he only left when I falsely said I had a boyfriend. I was very aware that if he were to come over the fence, or just wait at the exit until I eventually had to leave, I could do nothing about it.

When my hair was very short, a hairdresser sent me to the barber’s side of the store so they could get the back of my head with clippers. The barber followed me out to my car to ask me out afterwards. I was very aware that we were the only people in the parking lot when it happened, and that the lot itself was tucked behind the building with no clear visibility to the road.

Today, a man I’ve met once made it very clear he knows where I live, and used that knowledge to express a romantic interest. If he ever decides that he’s unhappy with how I responded, he knows where I live. He knows what my car looks like. It is impossibly easy for him to determine when I’m home alone, and now I have to live with that knowledge.

Every woman I know has at least one story like this. My roommate had to be escorted to her car every night when she was a waitress, in case some man was waiting for her or a coworker’s shift to end.

If the person you want to ask out cannot physically run away from you when you are asking, YOU CANNOT ASK THEM OUT. You cannot ask someone out if they are at work. You cannot ask someone out if you’ve followed them to a remote/unoccupied/enclosed area. You cannot GO TO SOMEONE’S HOME UNINVITED to ask them out. You are not being romantic. You are not “taking initiative”. You are terrifying the person you want to woo. If they say yes, it is not because they want to, it is because they are terrified of what might happen if they say no.

I’m so tired of being terrified by men who think they’re being romantic.

[blackjackgabbiani]

“Every woman” you say. Do you personally know every woman in the world? Don’t presume to speak for others, and don’t make this a gendered issue either.

[therealraewest]

Actually every woman in the world is in one big group chat and they’re all telling you to fuck off

[stereden]

In response to @blackjackgabbiani, allow me to quote one of the best poems I’ve ever read.

This Vote Is Legally Binding

by @tkingfisher

In response to all those articles about talking to women with headphones…

Someone always says it, whenever it comes up: “I guess I’m just not allowed to talk to anyone any more!” Well. Yes. It is my duty to inform you that we took a vote all us women and determined that you are not allowed to talk to anyone ever again. This vote is legally binding. Yes, of course, all women know each other, the way you always suspected. (Incidentally, so do Canadians. I’m just throwing that out there.) We went into the women’s room at the Applebee’s at the corner of 54 and all the others streamed in through the doors into that endless liminal space, a chain of humans stretching backward heavy skulled Neanderthal women laughing with New York socialites, Lucille Ball hand in hand with the Taung child. We sat around in the couches in the women’s room (I know you’ve always been suspicious of those couches) and chatted with each other in the secret female language that you always knew existed. Somebody set up a console– the Empress Wu is ruthless at Mario Kart and Cleopatra never learned to lose and a woman who ruled an empire that fell when the Sea People came and left no trace can use the blue shell like a surgical instrument. Eventually we took the vote. You had three defenders: your grandmother and your first-grade teacher and an Albanian nun who believes the best of everybody. Your mom abstained. It was duly recorded in the secret notebooks that have been kept under the couch in the Applebee’s since the beginning of recorded time. And then we went back to playing Mario Kart and Hoelun took off her bra and we didn’t think about you again except that I had to carry this message. So anyway good luck with that it’s just as you always said it was. Hush now, no talking

hush.

[copperplatebeech]

Reblogging for that poem especially. Thpft yup.

[tiersup]

Okay blackjackgabbiani can’t read for shit, op said every woman that she knows, not every woman on planet earth.  But also this has happened to me to and I can’t stand it. 

“If the person you want to ask out cannot physically run away from you when you are asking, YOU CANNOT ASK THEM OUT.” are words to live by and I wish more people respected this. In my experience it be Strangers that do this; acquaintances that don’t know your favorite color or birthday or hobbies and never will after that nonsense.

[therealraewest]

A guy just came to my house while I was home alone to ask if I was single why are men like this

[therealraewest]

Okay y'know what I’m gonna soapbox for a hot minute

When I was in high school, a man who I’d thought was the parent of a school friend followed me out to the grocery store parking lot greenhouse where I worked. It was dark, and late, and it was me, alone, in a chain link enclosure with one exit and a register full of cash. He called me up to the fence and asked if I wanted to get dinner, or go dancing. I was scared and shaking and told him no several times, and he only left when I falsely said I had a boyfriend. I was very aware that if he were to come over the fence, or just wait at the exit until I eventually had to leave, I could do nothing about it.

When my hair was very short, a hairdresser sent me to the barber’s side of the store so they could get the back of my head with clippers. The barber followed me out to my car to ask me out afterwards. I was very aware that we were the only people in the parking lot when it happened, and that the lot itself was tucked behind the building with no clear visibility to the road.

Today, a man I’ve met once made it very clear he knows where I live, and used that knowledge to express a romantic interest. If he ever decides that he’s unhappy with how I responded, he knows where I live. He knows what my car looks like. It is impossibly easy for him to determine when I’m home alone, and now I have to live with that knowledge.

Every woman I know has at least one story like this. My roommate had to be escorted to her car every night when she was a waitress, in case some man was waiting for her or a coworker’s shift to end.

If the person you want to ask out cannot physically run away from you when you are asking, YOU CANNOT ASK THEM OUT. You cannot ask someone out if they are at work. You cannot ask someone out if you’ve followed them to a remote/unoccupied/enclosed area. You cannot GO TO SOMEONE’S HOME UNINVITED to ask them out. You are not being romantic. You are not “taking initiative”. You are terrifying the person you want to woo. If they say yes, it is not because they want to, it is because they are terrified of what might happen if they say no.

I’m so tired of being terrified by men who think they’re being romantic.

[blackjackgabbiani]

“Every woman” you say. Do you personally know every woman in the world? Don’t presume to speak for others, and don’t make this a gendered issue either.

[therealraewest]

Actually every woman in the world is in one big group chat and they’re all telling you to fuck off

[stereden]

In response to @blackjackgabbiani, allow me to quote one of the best poems I’ve ever read.

This Vote Is Legally Binding

by @tkingfisher

In response to all those articles about talking to women with headphones…

Someone always says it, whenever it comes up: “I guess I’m just not allowed to talk to anyone any more!” Well. Yes. It is my duty to inform you that we took a vote all us women and determined that you are not allowed to talk to anyone ever again. This vote is legally binding. Yes, of course, all women know each other, the way you always suspected. (Incidentally, so do Canadians. I’m just throwing that out there.) We went into the women’s room at the Applebee’s at the corner of 54 and all the others streamed in through the doors into that endless liminal space, a chain of humans stretching backward heavy skulled Neanderthal women laughing with New York socialites, Lucille Ball hand in hand with the Taung child. We sat around in the couches in the women’s room (I know you’ve always been suspicious of those couches) and chatted with each other in the secret female language that you always knew existed. Somebody set up a console– the Empress Wu is ruthless at Mario Kart and Cleopatra never learned to lose and a woman who ruled an empire that fell when the Sea People came and left no trace can use the blue shell like a surgical instrument. Eventually we took the vote. You had three defenders: your grandmother and your first-grade teacher and an Albanian nun who believes the best of everybody. Your mom abstained. It was duly recorded in the secret notebooks that have been kept under the couch in the Applebee’s since the beginning of recorded time. And then we went back to playing Mario Kart and Hoelun took off her bra and we didn’t think about you again except that I had to carry this message. So anyway good luck with that it’s just as you always said it was. Hush now, no talking

hush.

[copperplatebeech]

Reblogging for that poem especially. Thpft yup.

[tiersup]

Okay blackjackgabbiani can’t read for shit, op said every woman that she knows, not every woman on planet earth.  But also this has happened to me to and I can’t stand it. 

“If the person you want to ask out cannot physically run away from you when you are asking, YOU CANNOT ASK THEM OUT.” are words to live by and I wish more people respected this. In my experience it be Strangers that do this; acquaintances that don’t know your favorite color or birthday or hobbies and never will after that nonsense.

[vivienvalentino]

This is what plays in my head every minute of every day.

[theamazingbard]

When Geralt sees Jaskier again, it is nearly 20 years after their confrontation.

Every time Geralt had meant to go find the bard, something stood in his way: the war, a contract, keeping Ciri safe...

Guilt.

After so much time had passed, Geralt knew that whatever he might have to say, whatever he might have done to solve this rift between them would be meaningless.

Jaskier would be in his 60s, hopefully enjoying a comfortable retirement in Oxenfurt.

Instead, they meet in a small town bookshop.

Jaskier has glasses perched on his nose, the latest style of clothing on his back, and a leather bound book open in his nimble hands. His face, unchanged.

For a moment, they just stand on opposite ends of the room staring at one another.

Geralt didn't have the words then, even in his mind's eye, what a proper apology might sound like. At least with Yennefer she could read his mind and his intentions-- and even then the only reason she forgave him was for Ciri's sake.

20 years later, and there are no words or magic mind reading to get him through this.

And so he takes that moment, standing in front of Jaskier to try and formulate something. What he comes up with is: "How?"

Jaskier snorts and rolls his eyes. "That would be your concern, wouldn't it."

Not a question, a statement. Geralt winces. Time seems to have done little to soothe the pain of their last encounter. "I meant..."

"I know what you meant, Geralt." Jaskier closes the book in his hands and slides it back onto the shelf in front of him. "But I'm afraid it's none of your fucking business. Not anymore." And he turns to walk away, so readily leaving Geralt and their friendship where it likely belongs-- in the past.

The only exit, fortunately enough, is behind Geralt. It is not at all difficult to stop Jaskier in his tracks. A simple step to the left. "Can we talk?"

He's met with a sigh. Oddly, it gives him hope, as the expression is a full bodied thing. Jaskier's shoulders move up and down, he tilts his head from one side to the other, and then he crosses his arms. "I want wine. Expensive wine. And! I do not promise to be agreeable."

This is enough.

-

Jaskier downs two glasses of Est Est before he's willing to talk. At some point over the years, he's grown something of a tolerance.

"Alright then. Ask."

"Why haven't you aged?"

Jaskier stares down into his wine, watching the red foamy bubbles gather at the bottom of the cup. "A witch tied my life to yours."

Horror was never something Geralt truly understood until recently. When Ciri's life was in danger, the look of betrayal on Yennefer's face, and now this. "What?"

"You really need your hand to be held?" Jaskier shakes his head. "A witch knew you. Wanted to find you. Don't know why, I was never told. It wasn't important what I knew." His finger traces the rim of the glass, a clear but quiet note sings. "She wanted to find you and thought that she'd be able to do so through me. The joke is on her now, of course. Or was."

Years ago, Geralt envied the fluid way Jaskier moved. The eased and relaxed way he'd move his hands to describe something, or how he always seemed to be comfortable.

Now, there is tension in his shoulders.

Geralt wants to smooth it away, but his hands are not made to be gentle. Raising Ciri has taught him a lot, yes. This is different. Jaskier is different. "You are alive... because I am alive."

"Yes."

"...Then..."

"It stands to reason that I will die upon your death." A bitter laugh escapes Jaskier. He grips the bottle of Est Est and pours himself another glass. "It does make life more thrilling, I suppose. Unpredictable. Though, it should be said, I wasn't entirely careful with how I lived before. It was my choice, however."

Oh.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. In that, you are innocent."

"I'll..." He clears his throat. "I won't take any contracts."

Jaskier smiles. "Liar. You couldn't stop inserting yourself into dangerous situations if you tried."

"Then tell me what I can do to fix this."

And again, Jaskier laughs. He finishes off a third glass of wine, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and stands. "You can't."

This time, when Jaskier leaves, Geralt doesn't stop him.

Jaskier should be able to make his own choices, after all.

[kushielsmercy]

BarOwner!Lambert Woodworker!Eskel Meet-cute Romcom

Alternate Title: Lambert is a horny bastard. Eskel notices.

So this idea came from the last flash fic challenge prompt (that I only got like three paragraphs into) which was a picture of a cute kitten. But my mind refuses to write it in full so I ended up writing it chat-fic style on discord last night and thought I’d share it here too.

So what if...

Lambert owns a fancy ass bar/tapas place, which he takes very. seriously.

His cocktails are stupidly complex and yet perfectly balanced, if it's out of season do not bring it in his house - he will fire you on the spot

His bar is in a kind of out of the way spot but its reputation has now grown word of mouth, it's a small place so there's often a waitlist to get in on busy nights

Eskel, meanwhile, has just babysat Ciri for a weekend (Geralt and Eskel are brothers in this and Lambert is not - for fucking purposes)

She is six.

He loves her very much.

She also talks. A lot. Almost as much as Jaskier. Probably because of Jaskier. She has a sweet tooth. She wants to know everything. It is Monday morning and he just left and fucking shit how do people have kids he is tired

He also needs a drink.

So he stumbles out of Geralt's place and into the first bar he sees, like the not-alcoholic he is

(one guess whose bar that is)

MEANWHILE...

Lambert, the obsessive bastard that he is, has been at the bar since 7am

He is on very #37 of a juniper cocktail

It is. So close. But not right.

He finally figured out which bitters work best, and vodka with a corn base seems to be mixing better than the potato base, but it's...not right...

The bar is a mess, bottles everywhere, many many made and abandoned juniper cocktails scattered around him

(they all taste great to anyone who is not Lambert, for reference)

But he's buried in his notes and has almost figured it out when he hears someone call out, "Are you open?"

...which...how dare they. He was concentrating. Was that not clear?

He doesn't even bother to lift his head before calling out that no they're not and to "go be a drunk somewhere else"

(No. he does not see the irony. The bottles around him are for science dammit. He's working)

But the person does not go away. In fact, the man has the absolute fucking audacity to ask a second question about whether he knows where the nearest open bar is

"The fuck do I look like, the yellow pages?"

Except Lambert actually looks up when talking this time

and....oh. that is a very large man

...the very large man is blushing and stammering out an apology and...ah fuck that's kind of cute

(also he has very big hands. Look it's been awhile okay?)

"hair of the dog?" Lambert asks, against his better judgement

"Uh, no. Babysitting. Did you know how much work smart kids are?"

Lambert is just smirking at him, trying to imagine this giant man being bested by a kid

But apparent he lets the moment hang for a bit too long (he's always been shit at social stuff) because the next thing he knows the guy is back to sweet and pie and on his way

“Right, okay. Well, sorry to bother you Mr…?”

“Mr.? Do I look old enough to be a fucking Mr.?"

And at that point Mr. Mountain actually stops stumbling over his words to look at Lambert more closely

(who, it should be noted, is in a tank top and has very nice arms)

cue Eskel giving Lambert a very obvious once over and the dawn of the patented "I'm gonna to have you against a wall smirk"

"No...no you definitely do not."

gulps "It's Lambert"

"Eskel"

"...look, I'm not fucking making anything special at this hour, but," he gestures across the mess of a bar, "you like Juniper, have your pick"

Eskel smirks, "I've never had anything against fruit" (cue groans from the peanut gallery)

So Eskel ends up perching his very large self on the very small barstool

And up close he is somehow, impossibly, bigger.

Lambert is a size queen. In all possible definitions of the word. He knows this. He's stopped trying to deny it a long time ago. But it's not like he's a small guy so people make...assumptions...and anyway point being he's maybe just a bit distracted is all

Anyway next thing Lambert knows Eskel is awkwardly clearing his throat

And right. The booze. What kind of bartender even is he.

"How sour do you like it?"

"I prefer sweet, myself" - all the eye contact. Because Eskel is a walking dad joke

Lambert does not blush and turns down the bar to grab one of the sweeter drinks (which he had decided was the wrong way to go hours ago, but not everyone can have his taste)

Anyway when he comes back and gives Eskel the drink their fingers brush and Eskel says "good boy"

Lambert shudders

So there Lambert is, having a minor heart attack. Is he in a porno? Did he volunteer for a porno when he was drunk and forget about it? Is Jaskier setting him up? Shit, that does sound like the kind of thing that fucking idiot would do. ...If he finds out Aiden tattled on him and his lack of a sex life again he will throw him out in the back alley, he can find another line cook, they will. all. die.

Except then he notices that Eskel is not looking at him

Eskel is looking to his right

Eskel is looking at his cat, Millie

His fucking escape artist cat who is supposed to be safely asleep in his office and not out here being a fucking public health risk to both his patrons and Lambert's still pounding heart

And....

"Who the fuck tells a cat good boy???"

And now Eskel is giving him a reallllll assessing kind of look

"I figure dogs shouldn't get all the love"

Not like Lambert doesn't agree, fuck he likes this guy a little more for it, but he's still more than a little off kilter because now he's having to push back the desire to just fall to his knees right on the spot so...deflecting. Lambert is good at deflecting.

"She's not even a boy!"

"Ah. Sorry girl," Eskel practically coos, reaching his hand out to try and coax the cat closer

(it does not work. Millie hisses. Lambert is proud)

"Shouldn't have assumed your gender identity like that. Good girl, come here girl"

Millie, because she is a proper asshole but also the goodest girl (shut up he's allowed to do it, it's his cat) does not come, which honestly is a lot more restraint than Lambert is showing right now

So after that they banter for awhile and despite Lambert's best efforts to be a right bastard Eskel seems mostly just amused by his attempts.

He turns out to be a little bit of a fucking bastard himself, which does nothing at all to turn Lambert off

And then at some point Eskel, impromptu of nothing says "do you want to see my wood?" (did you think we were done with the groan worthy innuendos? because we weren't. I promised rom-com dammit)

"What?!?!?!"

Lambert's internal monologue by now: not a porno not a porno not a porno not a porno

Turns out, Eskel is a woodworker. And also socially awkward like Lambert. He'd noticed that Lambert's bar, while not...not nice...lacks a little personality. So Lambert's not a damn interior designer. Sue him. It's perfectly fine. Nothing is wrong. But picture those dime a dozen Wayfair tables with the fake wood tops and screw on metal legs.

So Eskel thought Lambert might want to...you know...see his wood

Of course Lambert ends up driving out to the edge of town to Eskel's workshop (if he's overdressed for a workshop he blames it all on Jaskier)

Oh I should clarify that in this Jaskier is Geralt's husband and Lambert's sometimes employee sometimes live entertainment sometimes most likely cause of ending up in jail before 40. They will figure the connection out at some later point and Jaskier will have the most fun with it

Anyhoooo. Eskel makes very nice wood. That steam bended shit that we'll pretend doesn't only exist in art museums. Lambert, being the detail guy that he is, properly appreciates the different grains and colorings and general craftsmanship and if Eskel wasn't a little bit in love before he is now

So they finally come across this table

And Lambert makes some remark about wondering how it's even standing up, it looks so fragile

And Eskel bets him it's 10x sturdier than anything he's got in his bar

"Oh yea? why don't you prove it?"

Cue lambert getting absolutely nailed on top of the table with lots of position kink and soft dom because that's how I roll

"Just stay still for a minute, there you go. Can you hold yourself open a little more for me? I want to see you, pretty thing that you are. Good. Good boy. Now just stay there, I want to take a good long look at what you're going to give me."

Oh and of course Lambert is wearing lacy panties.

Eskel had lube and condoms in the workshop because he a hoe. (also he lives in an apartment above the workshop but that doesn't seem worth mentioning until post-table railing). Because again, under the sweet exterior he is also a bit of a bastard. We love him for it.

They all live happily ever after and have many excellent orgasms together the end

p.s. it takes Millie two years to warm up to Eskel but they get there eventually

[annatorv]

im cleaning out my phone and found that i have saved this tiktok no less than Five separate times

[laughconfetti]

serotinin administered

[ameliafromafairytale]

[ironinkpen]

just watched spiderverse again so here’s another hot concept: now that the multiverse is all blendy, portals start popping up everywhere in new york. it’s usually only for a few seconds, just long enough for a Villain of the Week to fly through and a spiderperson to swing in and punch them back into their dimension, sometimes with an assist from their new spiderman. nyc quickly settles into its new normal and starts debating which spidey team up is the coolest. meanwhile officer jefferson davis is starting to get real annoyed with the homeless-looking guy who keeps wandering through portals to “check up on” spiderman

[ironinkpen]

officer davis: sir you need to go back through that portal right now or you could get stuck here and also die

peter b parker, watching miles swing straight into a wall and try to brush it off like he did it on purpose: haha nice

[ironinkpen]

officer davis, upon running into peter for the fifth time in two weeks: sir please, you can’t just keep walking into other dimensions, it’s incredibly dangerous, you have to-

peter “been there done that” parker, cupping his hands in front of his mouth: yeah yeah yeah just- hold on- hey! hey spiderman! do a backflip!

[ironinkpen]

officer davis, for the thirtieth time: sir. sir please.

peter b parker, who has recently been informed that officer davis is miles’s dad so stop talking to him you weirdo-: i know, this is super dangerous blah blah blah, i’ll go in a sec. but hey listen lol, next time you see spiderman can you ask him if he’s been using baby powder under his suit? especially the crotch area. he was looking stiff that last fight and i think he might be chaffing in the downstairs if you know what i mean-

spiderman, dropping from the sky to just fucking. toss hobo guy back through the portal: haha is this man bothering you officer

[brawltogethernow]

1. Of course Peter WOULD still be rocking homeless chic. “I am technically homeless here, Miles. Sure, since I come here on purpose now, I can bring a backpack. But it is still fairly obvious that I am living out of that backpack. Even if your money weren’t, yanno, purple–”

Miles: “It’s not–”

“–and more inflated than the pengő, I can barely afford one New York apartment. You know the most beautiful thing about webshooters, Miles? It’s that if I patented them, it would give away my secret identity. Sorry, did I say beautiful–”

2. At some point an actual credible threat is going to show up, and Jefferson is going to see the homeless-looking guy pick up a truck and throw it at whatever threatened Spider-Man.

[nerdfighterwhatevernumbers]

#peter panics and says everyone from hs dimension can do that

[artistsfuneral]

Would you do 21. "How much of that did you hear?" with Lambden+Jaskier?

Oh I most definitely would :3   lambdenskier? lambskierden??

lambert x aiden x jaskier, 18+, lé dirty talk, usage of words like b/tch and s/ut, but affectionately, fangs, knots, having sexy thoughts about your brother's best friend, and said friend being down for it

---

Safely tucked away in Lambert's bedroom in Kaer Morhen, the witcher moaned and shuddered freely as Aiden's strong hips thrust against his his own. The older witcher's cock buried deep inside of him, harsh movements hitting Lambert's spot every time. Aiden's arms were wrapped around his thighs, held them up so that Lambert couldn't squirm away, had no room for false shyness. Aiden grinned, his sharp lion fangs showing behind his lips. “Ugh, look at you, you're so fucking loose. Your hole is gaping around my fat cock but it just can't tighten up.” Lambert whined pitiful, knowing full well what he must have looked like after Aiden had spend hours opening him up with slick.

“It's not enough, is it?” The cat asked purring, his voice gone husky with lust. He knew how much it affected Lambert and took every opportunity to use that knowledge to see Lambert shiver and whine underneath him. “Gods, you're such a slut, kept whining for me like a bitch in heat all evening long. Unbelievable.”

Lambert wished he could deny it, but he was painfully aware of the truth behind those words. Knew that he had spend the evening in Aiden's lap, wiggling his butt against his lovers cock, had been swinging his hips when walking had dropped his Gwent cards one too many times just to bend down where Aiden would see. And now he paid the price, not that he minded too much. But hearing the filthiest of words drip from Aiden's lips always send him over the edge.

Lambert shuddered through his orgasm with a yowl, his own cum spilling hot over his stomach and chest and yet Aiden didn't stop thrusting. And then he started talking again. “Imagine how he would react if he saw you like this. Big bad wolf, nothing more than a sloppy mess, my precious cum drooling out of you just because you kept begging for more. Begged me to stretch your slutty hole wider and wider and now look at this.” Lambert keened, hiding his face behind his hands, trying to wiggle away from the cat, but was unable to budge. Aiden was a little shit like that, using one of Lambert's filthiest fantasies against him just after cuming, making everything more sensitive. “Would he be disappointed, Lambert? Or would he just shove his thick cock next to mine, splitting you open on his knot? You've seen him, have you? I bet Jaskier's cock is bigger than yours, he'd be able to fuck you so good.”

Lambert felt like screaming. The thought, oh the thought of Jaskier's cock next to Aiden's, pistoning in and out of his used hole, filling him up with cum- He clawed at the sheets, hips bucking and back arching. His cock filled again and he helplessly searched for friction. Anything at all, but his arms were heavy and Aiden's grip unyielding. The cat chuckled, “Oh you like that, don't you? Like the idea of me and Jaskier fucking you?” Lambert sobbed. “Answer me, Lambert. Do you want our knots? Want us to cum down your sloppy little hole until it's spilling out of you? You'd be ruined for everyone but us, no one else will ever be enough for you.”

Lambert's chest coiled and he patted his left arm against the messy bedspread. Aiden slowed down at their sign, still rolling his hips, moving against his lover but giving Lambert time to breathe. And then he suddenly froze, golden eyes growing huge. Annoyed, because he hadn't wanted him to actually stop, Lambert stretched his neck to see what had his cat distracted. He went rigid once he saw Jaskier standing in the door frame.

The bard's eyes were huge, mouth open and closing without a sound, speechless at the sight in front of him. „Fuck,“ Aiden finally blurted out, his sun kissed chest heaving up and down. „How much of that did you hear?“

Jaskier went through a series of expressions, shoulders and fingers twitching. Then he took a grounding breath and answered, “More than enough.”

Lambert's eyes stung from embarrassment, but he couldn't move, couldn't look away. “Uh-” Aiden started, but just like his lover, didn't know what to do or say. Jaskier crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame with his shoulder, obviously thinking about something. “Not that I'm not flattered with the attention, but is it just a theoretical thing you two have going on with me or...” the bard asked, not finishing the sentence, but the implication hung clear in the air around them. Lambert whined quietly, muscles clenching around Aiden's cock. The cat turned his head back towards the other witcher and they locked eyes. They hadn't actually talked about this before. Lambert's crush for Jaskier had seemed like a completely one sided thing that Aiden was happy to indulge in, but they hadn't talked about a possible reality of it.

Silent conversation between them, Aiden quirked his eyebrow and to his amusement found the wolf nodding at him shyly. He grinned towards the bard and winked, “Hop in, pretty boy.” Jaskier laughed and undid the buttons of his doublet.

[starrose17]

“Ah. Well…”

[love-and-cubs-and-white-wolves]

I can’t get over Jask checking his nails after Geralt’s “I want nothing” response. When I watched the scene for the first time, I was wondering - why such reaction? It looked like disappointment, why would Jask be disappointed? And then it hit me. It’s because Jaskier is standing right here, in front of Geralt, literally washing him, taking care of him like a partner would - and he asks if Geralt’s wants something for himself from life, testing the waters carefully. And… Geralt’s answer is a resounding “no”. “No” to wanting anything domestic. “No” to wanting Jaskier. So Jaskier is feeling disappointment, that’s why he has to avert his eyes, compose himself, and regroup. But he still pursues. Changes “something” to “someone wanting you”. As in, “I’m out here, Geralt, I’m waiting, I want you. Say the word, and I’ll be yours”. Geralt repeats his “no, I don’t want anyone, and I don’t want anyone needing me”, and Jaskier, bless his heart, goes all vulnerable and open in one last effort - he finally says it’s about him. Because maybe Geralt didn’t get it. Maybe Geralt didn’t know it was about Jaskier. That’s why we have “yet… here we are” -> “I need you, Geralt. I am the one who wants you.” And… (oh boy, there’s a lot of “and” in my little essay xd) Geralt shows him that he knows with this little “hmm” and the abrupt change of the subject. I wonder if it was the first time Jaskier got his heart broken, yet still took it in stride, and decided to be a friend to Geralt if that was all he could do to stay in his company. And because Geralt deserved to have someone caring about him. Deserved to have his very best friend in the whole world.

[dechart]

I didn’t believe I could cry over this scene again and yet here I am

[kateis-cakeis]

oh fuck oh god, oh no, my heart. this scene now hurtsss

[unicorncryptid]

The point about Jaskier checking his nails because he needs a moment to avert his eyes is so good, but I’d also add the same for Geralt. There’s a moment of sustained tension after the “And yet, here we are,” and Geralt looks away first. Maybe it’s just because he can’t hold eye contact with Jaskier, maybe it’s because he feels vulnerable and naked himself - hence looking away not just to look away, but to look for his clothes. And of course, getting angry about something is much easier than dealing with what he might otherwise be feeling.

[memewhore]

[notsowittywriter]

Painfully true, it is.

[frogtennant]

Ten and Donna are himbo/lesbian solidarity I don't take criticism

[frogtennant]

I hadn’t even considered this you’re a genius

[gunpowderplusgelatine]

This isn't wrong

[frogtennant]

(Not my gif)

[whitepeopletwitter]

[soidreamtiwasastarfleetcommander]

I read the thread and what isn’t clear from one tweet that this 9yr old was reffing an adult women’s league, not a children’s league. And that woman who argued with said child ref was a player not a mom.

[rehfan]

Even better.

[neurotypical-karen]

The tone difference in foraging guides between native plants and invasive plants is literally so funny to read

[triplestaff]

Terry imma need examples

[neurotypical-karen]

Foraging guide entry on native plants: Make sure you only take a small amount from a well-established patch. Leave some for the wildlife, and yourself next year! Please get involved in land restoration programs to protect this plant for the future :)

Foraging guide entry for Japanese Knotweed: RIP RIP TEAR KILL REND DESTROY EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT  E V I S C E R A T E EAT EAT EAT EAT

[uncle-beanbag]

I got a guide on southwestern plants that reads just like this

[gunslinger-gal-deactivated20240]

“This is the Mexican Elderflower. It’s an important source of food for birds! The flowers make for excellent wine, but make sure you leave plenty for the bees!”

“This is Mediterranean Black Mustard, aka That Bastard Invader. I know ten different recipes for the roots alone; pull twice as much as you need and we’ll burn the rest!”

[bimbocracy]

Barbie aesthetic - plus size spotlight! 💞❤️💕💞❤️💕💞❤️💕

Source links correspond up/down and left to right

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[slayerbuffy]

We missed the bed again. Lucky for the bed.

[neontacos]

[mythoflight]