#roch writes

[cymothoid]

anyway i'm working on cc/cd again and if you thought i WOULDN'T have hal infodump about bugs well you clearly do not know me

#its Bug Facts time baby #roch writes

[badgerhuan]

Unknowable

A Beacon Pines William Kerr double drabble.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR (ONE OF) THE END OF THE GAME.

Read on AO3.

Dedicated to @maverickcalf .

Learned everything about this game less than a week ago and hadn't been able to stop thinking about this pathetic asshole since.

--x

He doesn't know who he is outside of William Kerr anymore.

He has been playing this role for so long. Never slipping, not for even one second. The terror of being found out and caught and failing the Founder outweighed any want for comfort he might have. It's not like who he was before all this was worth going back to, anyway.

Sometimes, alone at night, he'd try saying his name, his legal name, out loud into the dark.

The words feel foreign on his tongue.

But this isn't so bad. The town is...quaint. Nice. Comfortable. The people are wary of him, to be fair, but nothing some smooth talking can't fix. He's good at that, talking. It's why the Founder chose him.

The mayor is kind to him.

The mayor is the Founder's son, he reminds himself.

In any case, being William Kerr is nice. Losing himself in the role is nice. Not that there was much of himself left. He doesn't mind it all that much.

He can't fully remember what the distant dream that the Founder promised him was, but the journey there...is worth it. Maybe.

He's not entirely sure he wants it to end.

#beacon pines #beacon pines spoilers #william kerr #gus x william #implied anyway #roch writes #look ma i wrote something!

[sassaffrassa]

speaking of mob boss au

@bomberqueen17 has been doing a lot of the heavy lifting on mob boss au re: historical details and lapsed catholicism and also wrote an absolute banger of an opening scene

image inspo

#mob boss au #gun kink #b’s writing #my art #comic #iorveth #vernon roche #long hair!!!! long hair iorveth!! #cw blood #cw violence #cw bruises #yes a lot of my ideas come from visual inspiration #i maked this

[lord-squiggletits]

The more I hear about the """"""criticisms""""" people have towards MScott and Windblade/TAAO the more convinced I am that such people have literally never read the comics or were doing so with the most bad faith low reading comprehension possible.

Like some of these cold takes I'm reading can't even be called "intepretations" I think some of you people are literally just making shit up to call MScott and her writing problematic.

#squiggposting #discourse #and lets get into this but #i wonder how many ppl shit on mscott for being 'problematic' #while simultaneously sucking JRO and roche's and barber's dicks over their writing #it's honestly just sexism at this point lmao ppl raked/are raking her over the coals #for shit that other male writers wrote as bad or worse #that or its just sta/rsc/eam fans being cringe as usual

[bomberqueen17]

fic update: chapter 3 of Eagle Sable

I know! out of left field here.

I wrote the first draft of this chapter in 2022, and it wasn't ready yet in the timeline exactly, but Thronebreaker had recently gotten onto my radar and I was excited about using those characters for evil. Anyway. The first draft, I was shooting for snark and missed, and Hobbit wisely pointed out that it was winding up in a really unpleasant dynamic. So I set it aside and figured I'd have to come back to it, and eventually did. But in the meantime, Sass had read it, and loved part of the scene, and did a sketch-outline of a comic about it, and I was like ok, it's not that I just like that bit, it's that it's genuinely resonant in some way. So I finally, finally got my shit together and did a scorched-earth rewrite-- the way I do it is I got my elderly laptop out and plugged in and called up the doc on the screen there, and then hand-type every word of the new doc on my current working computer, even bits that I'm keeping the same. Because you can't copy-paste and make big radical changes without getting mired-down in it. Well, I can't, anyway. (When I didn't have an elderly laptop the way to do it was to print it out, so.)

Anyway finally we know what happens next when Iorveth gets stoned, LOL.

Chapter 3 of An Eagle Sable, a Lozenge Gules, on AO3

“There’s not much company in this world that can intimidate me,” Gascon said, “but this is-- rather a bit much.” Unexpectedly Roche laughed, not a harsh sarcastic bark like Gascon had heard before, but a surprisingly warm little exclamation. “Do you think we’ll eat you?” I wish you would, Gascon was just barely sober enough not to say.

yes yes i keep slipping from friday updates. i might give up on fridays for now, just because other things keep getting scheduled on fridays.

#my writing #fic update #peace-tied #iorveth/roche #gascon brossard #going with the dog theme #the witcher #witcher 2 #thronebreaker

[limerental]

chained

iorveth/roche - 14.7k

i feel like i've been writing this messy little disaster fic forever but here she is. she's gross.

summary

After the dwindling Temerian army is routed by invading Nilfgaardian forces, Roche wakes shackled to a wagon in a slave caravan. Worse than the suffering, violence, and humiliation he knows he's about to endure is the realization that his worst enemy will be there to witness it, chained alongside him.

excerpt

The manacles around his wrists and ankles are tight enough to dig red grooves into his skin, and no matter how he twists and cups his hands or rubs his legs together, they don’t budge. The long chain clasped to his collar is in turn attached to the axle of the wagon. Each of his restraints has its own lock. He swipes in the dirt for any stone large enough to try to break open the locks or his hand if he has to but finds nothing. Curling down, he bites at the chain, just to see. All that gets him is a metallic tang in his dry mouth and sore molars. Iorveth laughs at him. “Perhaps chew off your own hand,” he suggests. “You may make it to the edge of camp before you bleed out. Riddled with arrows as well, of course.” Roche does not want to talk to the elf. Or look at him. Or hear him. He’s torn between the urge to turn away to better pretend Iorveth isn’t there and the well-honed instinct not to put his back to an enemy. 

#yucky slave caravan fic is here! #it's got weird gory fantasies! it's got starvation! it's got 'only i can kill you' obsessive weird romance! #it's got roche having a bad time #and copious stupid banter #the witcher #iorveth x roche #also i'm either taking a break from writing or writing something completely off the rails next

[justleaf]

The Third Loves | Eskel x Geralt x Roche Read it on AO3

Come winter with me. I’ll be with the wolves, in the inn just south of the city of Lyria. It’ll be good to have you. - Geralt  Roche read the succinct letter once more, just to make sure he really was invited, and tucked it back into his innermost pocket where it was worth more than its weight in gold. To the unaware individual it would have been little more than a scrap of parchment, the ink worn off its folded edges and the surface indented by his fingers. But for him, oh for him, this was the only thing that had given him purpose in recent memory.

#vrsos2024 #vernon roche #eskel x geralt x roche #anyway COME JOIN THE EVENT WE NEED MORE ROCHE CONTENT #anyway I am very tired now after writing 2 emotionally laborious pieces time to vern-off my brain for a few days

[rad-roche]

took another stab at the DE style with my oc, gloria. doing my part for soggy female detectives. i typically speed up the timelapses but this is the first time I've remembered to record myself doing one of these, so I thought keeping it slow might be a better time

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #gloria roche #dead man talking #disco elysium #rochedotpng #i'm really out of practice since i've been writing a bunch so her head gets mushed around a lot but ah. it's fine #bg song is cloudy by chon #i always love snooping at other people's processes. it's like being nosy

[henryyarden]

Tis the Season

Pairing: Iorveth/Vernon Roche

Rating: T

Sumarry:

Vernon Roche and some of his soldiers are celebrating New Year in the town. It's just his luck that he runs into his enemy there as well.

AO3 link

This is the last part of the series (yes, this is a series!) because they actually meet in it! For this to really make sense with all the comments from Vernon's side, you should read the first two in the series (Who do you see from your deathbed? and Sleepless Night) but who I am to tell you what to do? You can freely read just this.

(And pretend like it's not 6th of January and that this was posted on New Year, okay?)

---

Vernon was on his leave. In fact, many of them were. During winter, things aren't usually as strict overall. Snowdrifts and frost complicate the unit's functioning, and even the Squirrels aren't as active when their asses are freezing. Soldiers can afford to linger in larger cities, take more time off, and save energy until the cold eases a bit.

But that day was even more significant - it was the holidays. People were more generous and friendlier; in every flea-infested inn, at least a warm soup was served, and street performers were doing everything from theatre and music to bizarre arts that can truly boggle the mind.

Some of the Blue Stripes took the opportunity to return to their families, while others, like Vernon, used the break to feel human again for a few days. They ate well, bathed, discarded their armour, and ventured into the city's whirlwind for some revelry.

The more drunk and boisterous they became, the easier it was for them to overlook Vernon’s gloomy mood; in the end, they pulled him along more out of habit than expecting him to celebrate with them. But he didn't mind. He was content alone, or rather, he preferred being alone than trying to keep up with younger, less weathered soldiers not as marked by the war. No need to lie to himself, he wasn’t getting younger.

By evening, they finally stopped; at a quite crowded inn, where – for everyone’s pleasure – the owners brewed a very good beer special just for the holidays. The smell of roasted meat and spiced ale wafted through the air, calling them in. The tables inside were packed, but at least they sat outside, going inside only for more alcohol when needed.

Vernon was just heading to the bar for another beer when he almost collided with someone else at the door. He stepped aside to let the stranger pass, but as soon as he focused on the person's face, he froze.

He almost didn't recognize him without his iconic scarf. He guessed it was probably intentional. The hood worn like a chaperone conveniently covered the tips of his ears, and most of his scar was hidden in the shadows. No one would recognize him as the person from the wanted posters.

They happened to be so close that he could see how the expression on his face changed - from plain unconcern to surprise to the usual contempt just in one breath. His hand immediately went to the knife's hilt, and Vernon realized that at any moment, their long-standing fight could end.

He would lose. His hand was still not entirely steady, he couldn't remember when he last had a proper sleep, and the beer had already gone to his head.

He had to act. In a split second, Iorveth would drive the knife under his ribs and would be gone before anyone could notice what had happened.

Vernon's mind raced, searching for a way to escape, to reverse this dangerous situation. He moved almost as quickly as Iorveth, just with a slight hesitation that gave his opponent an advantage. Fortunately, Vernon's gesture had one thing at its side. Shock. 

He raised his hands with open palms to show he was unarmed. Except for the beer mug - if you can count that as a weapon.

Iorveth hesitated, still holding the knife's hilt, but as long as the knife wasn't stuck in Vernon's body, he considered it a success.

"Can we not?" Vernon asked.

"What?" Iorveth ground between his teeth, and Vernon sighed. He really didn't have the mood for this right now.

"I'm tired, Ior-" he almost said his name out loud in the middle of the tavern. He glanced at the nearest drunks, but they didn't seem to pay attention. "I'm tired. Can we not fight at least tonight?"

Iorveth looked suspicious, but that was okay. He didn't want his trust; he just wanted to quietly drink his beer without having to rush right back to the hospital.

Iorveth moved his head as if struggling with the urge to look back, and Vernon glanced behind him, into the tavern’s second room. Iorveth was definitely not alone. Damn, another reason why he would lose their duel. Vernon's small group was sitting and drinking outside. He could only rely on the innkeeper’s bodyguard to intervene, but by the time he would get here...

Iorveth slowly released the knife's hilt. "Fine. No fighting today," he said, like it left a strange taste on his tongue.

Vernon nodded and offered: "You haven't seen me, I haven't seen you?"

"Deal."

Both took a cautious step aside, still half-turned toward each other - in case either of them planned some trick - and returned to their own groups.

As Vernon retreated to his Blue Stripes, he cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder. Of course, Iorveth would probably disappear immediately, whatever was his reason for even being here. For Vernon, it would be way too easy to wait for the elves along with the city guards, so it could be assumed that Iorveth would retreat. Therefore, even if neither of them had any interest in keeping the agreement, circumstances forced them to be men of their word.

***

The evening passed quickly. In the midst of winter, darkness fell early, and temperatures dropped with dusk, so soon Vernon remained one of the few people who preferred sitting outside the tavern rather than in the crowded, human-warm room where every free space became valuable. He dreaded the moment when he would have to go inside for another jug. Luckily, it was half full, so for now, he contentedly puffed on his pipe and enjoyed a moment of peace and quiet.

"Why aren't you sleeping then?"

"Sweet Melitele!" Vernon chuckled, jumped, and almost fell from his seat. Fortunately, he managed not to spill the beer.

He continued to wheeze and cough for a moment and squinted through tears at the man who seemed to literally materialize from the darkness around him. It wasn't easy to see his face, but Vernon would recognize that voice anywhere. The voice and that chaperone - thanks to their previous encounter.

"What the hell are you doing here? You should have been long gone."

"I should have," Iorveth replied pseudo-nonchalantly but still looked around at the nearest people who might notice them. However, he probably realised – just like Vernon – that it would be a stretch for the nearest drunks to stand, let alone reach them and notice who they were. "You haven't answered me yet, though," Iorveth continued when he turned back to him. "Why aren't you sleeping, if you're so tired you don't want to fight your nemesis?"

"Oh, come on, don't be such a bitch. Can't I just drink my beer in peace?"

"You're making my everyday life a hell, why should I give you peace tonight?" But despite his words, he leaned on the opposite table not looking threatening at all, and something even clinked in his scrip.

Any existing tension began to ease. They exchanged a silent acknowledgment that neither of them wanted a confrontation tonight.

Vernon took a sip of his beer, eyeing Iorveth with a mix of wariness and curiosity. "So, what brings you here? Thought you elves enjoyed solitude and freezing your asses in the woods during these times."

Iorveth's gaze was piercing, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Solitude gets old, and even elves need a change of scenery from time to time. Plus, there's something about the chaos of human celebrations that's oddly intriguing."

Vernon chuckled, not believing a word he said but still taking it. "Yeah, nothing like a bit of chaos to spice things up. Though, I never pegged you for the festive type."

Iorveth smirked. "Don't mistake curiosity for festiveness. I'm just observing."

„Right. Observing. Is that why you are dressed as a poor parody of me?“ Vernon pointed out his hat, and Iorveth immediately tore the chaperone off his head making Vernon laugh. “Come on, it suited you!”

“Fuck you. As if I ever wanted to have anything in common with you.”

For a brief moment, there was silence, and the two men stared at each other, only the noise of the inn and the revelry of the holiday celebrations echoed in the background. Now that Iorveth’s face wasn’t drowning in the shadows, Vernon for the first time saw what he actually looked like and he realised, his imagination was wrong in many ways. And so damn right in others.

Normally he wouldn’t stare so conspicuously – he still knew what good manners are – but this was Iorveth, his enemy. They saw the worst of each other already, so why pretend like there is any kind of decency between them.

Iorveth’s right eye was actually missing. Just an empty socket left where it used to be. The scar looked even nastier than he thought it would be. Probably got infected back in the day because it was still red and purple around the edges and so deep it didn’t look properly healed - although it must have been ages since he got it. These scars usually meant that the person ran away from the gravedigger's shovel. He can say by now.

The memory of his recent injury made him think about all the dreams and hallucinations he would (of course!) gladly forget. And the fact that he was correcting his dream images right as he was looking straight into Iorveth’s eye didn’t help either.

To his credit, he stared back at him all this time without comment and without any mention of an awkward situation. You could even say that was something to admire.

“And yet, here we are,” Vernon broke the silence, raised his mug as in a toast, and gave himself a generous couple of gulps.

Sigh. “Here we are.” The clinking returned, and when Vernon set his mug down, he saw that Iorveth opened himself a bottle of something unidentifiable. Good, Vernon thought, at least I’m not going to be the only one drunk here.

The bottle ended up at the table significantly emptier than before. “You still didn’t answer my question. Why aren’t you sleeping if you are so tired?”

Vernon grunted, looking into the distance. "I don’t know.” He ran his hands wearily over his face. What could he possibly say? Should he come up with some clichés? Actually, it wouldn't even be much of a lie; their lives weren’t exactly a cakewalk. He could ramble about how he's haunted by war nightmares, even when that's not really what keeps him from quality sleep. In the end, he opted for a middle ground. “I can’t. I guess I’m already living this life for too long, you know what I mean?”

Iorveth's expression softened. “Maybe it’s time to stop?” And then probably just for the fact that they were still enemies, he added: “I can kill you right here right now, and it would be over.”

“Very funny,” remarked Vernon wryly, and Iorveth snored with laughter, breaking his serious expression, while he took a sip again. “Admit it, you’d miss me.”

They both laughed and for a moment, their eyes locked. "You know, sometimes, a change of scenery helps with these things," said Iorveth cryptically.

Vernon wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say with this; maybe there was something unsaid hidden behind these words, or maybe he read too much into it, and it was just some strange elven idiom. Either way, it didn’t really matter. He too wasn’t completely honest with his words – as if he could ever tell anyone what keeps him up at night.

“Mind if I join you?”

Taken aback, Vernon studied his rival for a moment before nodding in agreement and gesturing to the place next to him. “Help yourself.”

Iorveth slumped on the bench, strangely relaxed considering the absurdity of their situation. He leaned in, his voice low and almost unrecognisable. "You know, it seems like - for enemies, of course - we could make surprisingly good drinking companions."

A smirk played on Vernon's lips. "Surprisingly indeed. Who would've thought we'd be sitting here, sharing a drink, instead of trying to kill each other?"

Iorveth grinned and tilted his head to look up at the starry sky. It was clear tonight. “Do you want to hear a fun fact?”

“Depends, what you consider fun.”

Iorveth gave him a skeptical look but continued: “The stars. That… constellation… That’s how it’s called in common, right?” He shifted closer so their vision would be more similar and pointed to the Great Bear. “Do you know its name?”

“No idea,” Vernon lied.

Iorveth continued about the name, origin, and appearance of the constellation with such enthusiasm as if he had longed terribly to tell someone about the stars for a very long time and had finally found the opportunity. “I wonder how drunk they must have been to see a bear in it. From when the bears have these dog tails?”

“You never know. Maybe back then bears had tails like this.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been alive long enough, and bears never had long tails.”

“Maybe you just never noticed it.”

“Oh yeah, and in the past years, they just started to chew it off I guess.”

“That’s true. They are hungry. And they are even chewing your ears when you sleep; that’s why yours are pointy.”

Iorveth started laughing, perhaps a bit deranged. “That’s why! I always wondered.”

He shifted back again, but not as far as they originally started. From this close, in this situation, he didn’t seem like his enemy at all. The line between friend and foe blurred, leaving them both in a space where the complexities of their past seemed momentarily irrelevant.

They continued talking, sharing their dumb stories, and just joking and ribbing each other, as the night unfolded and the holiday festivities faded into the background. In that quiet corner of the world, two enemies found an unexpected connection.

Suddenly a voice reached them from the square. It was the watchman. Ringing a bell rapidly and shouting so loud that everyone who was still awake had to hear him. Probably also drunk, but who would blame him. At least he could still say what time is it.

“So… Happy New Year, Vernon.” Iorveth rose his bottle and Vernon froze for a while as the intimacy of the name surprised him. No one called him that. That’s another thing that made Iorveth special. Just like in his dreams.

He had to get it together. Iorveth smiled—probably at his stupid expression. He smiled back. “Happy New Year, Iorveth.” Their toast almost disappeared in the sound of a bell announcing midnight.

Vernon couldn't help but wonder if all of this; the unexpected encounter, his confusing thoughts, and his injury were just some sick of a twist of fate forcing him to lose his mind.

-----

When this started I didn't think I'll ever continue. And here we are. I finished one whole series and am already planning another. Who would have thought? My boyfriend wanted to get credit for the "plot" here because I asked him: "What should happen if all they have to do in this one is just to meet?" And he was like: "End it with them just sitting together." The slowburn is so slow it almost isn't even burning. And it's not going to get better. As always, English is not my first language, so sorry if anything feels off. (Also, to "run away from the gravedigger's shovel" is Czech idiom for almost dying. I really like it so I just used it in English as well.)

Thank you for reading!

#my writing #rorveth #iorveth #vernon roche #ioroche

[tumbleweedtech]

Fuck Haters, Write More Fic challenge

Okay. So in one post I said I would write a fic for every time Marina decided to create a new account to get around the fact I keep blocking her

inbox > Roche/Iorveth, Rated E

Tag > Roche/Fringilla , Rated E

gift > Prompt: Roche/Lambert, Gwent

dm > Prompt Rorveth, Old men talking

tag - Roche Gets A Haircut, Rated G

tag -

ask -

ask -

inbox -

ask -

ask -

This is my tracker, if you see a numbered one without a prompt, feel free to drop one in my inbox. I can't guarantee I'll write it, because I'm not the best at writing to prompts, but I want to focus on injecting good (more fics! More fun!) into fandom to counter her hateful messages. It doesn't have to be Iorveth x Roche, though I suspect those will be the most effective at making her leave me alone. And everyone's welcome to participate! If she harasses you, write something that makes you happy instead of engaging, make it clear that the only fandom experience she's ruining is her own. <3

#iorveth x roche #Vernon Roche #Iorveth #Min Writes #Fuck Haters Write More Fic #Fringilla Vigo

[author-a-holmes]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thank you for the tag @oh-no-another-idea! <3

Tagging forward with no pressure to; @kittensartswriting @vesper-roux @shellyscribbles @charlesjospehwrites @moonscribbler @dyrewrites and @Winglesswriter. Anyone else who see's this and wants to play can consider this an open tag <3

Rules; Share 7 recent sentences/lines. Tag forward to seven people (or more)

Darkling Spoilers beneath the cut! And I'll also tag the darkling taglist; @jezifster @ettawritesnstudies @faelanvance @noirepersonal @queen-kass-the-writer @minamoroz @athenswrites @thelaughingstag @bardic-tales @outpost51 @talesfromaurea

My most recent chapter is in the POV of a new character in Darkling that I've been trying very hard to keep concealed. But for the sake of flow, since this piece is in their POV I'm going to switch out [Redacted] for an intial instead...

E stopped breathing. He turned his head slowly, unwilling to draw attention, as he waited for Andric's control to crack.

"I don't have a good defence, Andric. I can't even say you're entirely wrong," Booker admitted bitterly, shaking his head, and when Andric's fist connected with the stone mantle, E couldn't supress his violent flinch, knee knocking the underside of the dining table as his breath began to speed up and he pressed back into the corner, praying neither of them noticed his barely concealed panic. "I'm waiting for an explanation, not a bloody excuse!" Andric was yelling, and E forced his fingers to curl around the edge of the table. Adding pressure to one finger at a time. 'One, two, three, four. Breathe In. One, two, three, four. Out.'

#Tag Game #Tag Answered #Darkling #Snippet #Sneak Peek #Extract #Writeblr #Writeblr Community #Writing #Writing Community #Laughing Stag #Wip Nook #Booker Reed #Andric Roche #Redacted #E #New POV Character

[cymothoid]

CARRION CROW, CADAVER DOG CHAPTER TWOOOO

Now reluctantly cooperating with the demon Yako, Neuro is dragged an entirely uninteresting place by the beast's hunger. There's more than just a game of billiards afoot at this bar. [tws for body horror, death, and gore]

that's right neuroheads. i have updated my fucking swap AU fic after a billion years. kasai's in this one and there is intrigue. please enjoy the lovingly crafted murder mystery i have laid out for you. i love you. hopefully it will take me less time to write chapter three.

#mtnn #majin tantei nougami neuro #roch writes

[badgerhuan]

Robles + things you said at 1 am

It's not the first time they'd stay at the office together this late. That's what catches Rob off guard, really.

He'd just informed Les of his success in securing a location for the shoot in Australia, a location that they'd been fighting for the access to film at for the past week. It took Rob every trick in the book and a lot of phone calls to finally convince the people there, but he did it.

Les laughs, loud and booming and triumphant, and Rob feels a swell of pride in his chest. That's all he wanted to hear, to see. He's about to turn away and focus on the next task when Les' laughter dies out with, "What would I do without you, Slo?"

Something in Rob's chest flutters. Another praise, another compliment, genuine enough that it throws him off balance. But he knows better how to deal with it, now.

"You won't have to find out," he replies. Promises. Vows.

This is how it'll always be. Les throwing himself into work, and Rob following at his heels. In his heart, Rob knows he'd follow Les anywhere. He needs Les to know that as well.

Les gives him a wry smile, "not planning to."

#tropic thunder #robles #rob slolom #les grossman #roch answers #roch writes #blu #maverickcalf

[sassaffrassa]

listen, he's doing his best

#give a dog a job #b's writing #my art #comic #modern au #vernon roche in a funny hat #witcher 2 #tw2: ass king #strega is the star but dukat is my favorite best boy #i maked this

[straysinfiltrator]

Thank you @theobscurepotato for this absolutely gorgeous bookbound copy of my fic!!! 💖💕

I've never had one of my fics printed before and I didn't even know bookbinding like this was possible. I was blown away and still am every time I look at it. Thank you so much for all the work you put into this, it's one of the best birthday gifts I've ever received!!

Ao3 link: Pleasure Vine, Iorveth/Roche, ~13k words, explicit

#thank you!!! #(and sorry it took me so long to post pics!) #iorveth/roche #theobscurepotato #ficbinding #bookbinding #my writing #the witcher fanfic

[bomberqueen17]

FRIDAY UPDATE YEAH!

I managed it!! and i even got it last-second beta-read, LOL

So it's a chapter of the peace-tied storyline, and part of it I wrote in like 2021, and it took me forever to recompile it to work with how these characterizations and such have grown in the meantime, and then there's a bit that feeds into another chunk i wrote in 2022 that's gonna need rewriting, but i'm really pleased with how this all turned out and i appreciate everyone's patience in waiting for me to sort it out.

Eagle Sable Lozenge Gules chapter 2 on AO3

in which yennefer gets to be a troll, and iorveth can't remember gascon's name but gets to be a true pedant, as is right and proper

(commentary from the first draft of this: in august 2022 i said, of iorveth, "all this time various special forces wasted hunting for him when they could have just lurked in the woods and shouted out incorrect facts about things and he'd eventually have been compelled to come and correct them")

“Which division was this?” Roche asked.  “Mm, dunno,” Gorston said, “winged insignia, black on white.”  “Alba,” Iorveth said aloud absently, forgetting he was meant to be concealed. He knew most of them. He’d needed to, during the second war.  “Alba,” Roche echoed thoughtfully, not looking at Iorveth but clearly repeating what he’d said.  “I think so,” Garsin said. “I didn’t ask. At any rate I had their general dead to rights. Fought like a demon, cut one of my mates near in half but I’d have had him on the backswing if one of those damned keen lieutenants-- or a captain maybe-- hadn’t leapt his horse clear over the dead one and just about trampled me.” Iorveth hadn’t meant to move out from behind the tapestry, but here he was. “Hogwash,” he said. “Bunch of nonsense. What the fuck would a general be doing leading a division?” “I swear,” Guillaume said, and then did a double-take. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

#the witcher #iorveth #vernon roche #gascon brossard #my writing #fanfiction #fic update #meet death sitting