#{ butcher of blaviken | imaging }

[the-boy-king-rp-multi]

@likewishesonthewind 😂😂

#let’s play: correct or incorrect quote (27/?)

[liceparade]

the scene between johnny nuking arasaka and getting soulkilled always bothered the hell outta me bc like. this is the first time we meet saburo and he's staring out at the mushroom cloud and i mean, that's an instantly resonant image with both 9/11 and the bombings at hiroshima and nagasaki, right. and so i assumed this was deliberately framed by the game as like, an insight into saburo's motives for complete control (Never Again, basically) and that it would like, grapple with the tower attack memorial and the ramifications of johnny's actions later but it...really doesn't, by in large.

it bothers me. at the time of playthrough i chalked it up to an explicit failure of the game to deal meaningfully with atrocity, and for the most part i still feel that is missing from the story.

but thinking about it more, and reading generously--alt tells V explicitly in their conversation beyond the blackwall that johnny's recollections are unreliable, and the off-screen knowledge of key facts that differ from johnny's memories. namely, that morgan blackhand led the charge and shaitan attacked smasher, not johnny; that johnny didn't unplug and kill alt exactly like that, though he and rogue et al. did unwittingly contribute to her death and imprisonment by arasaka; that johnny had likely been killed by smasher before being soulkilled, so this whole memory could be a fabrication.

taken together, these points of unreliability suggest that 50 years in Mikoshi have amplified johnny's self-aggrandizement and guilt, giving himself a locus of control he never had. he attacked the tower, he killed alt, he is the butcher of blaviken.

so with a really generous stretch, this confrontation with saburo could be read as staging of johnny's complex feelings of guilt, helplessness, rage at having been violated by soukiller and tortured in Mikoshi, and twisted pride at having left his mark--a violent, bloody mark--on the world.

another, more tenuous point: character design. another thing that snagged my attention was how johnny's character model has tower attack-related tattoos in the flashbacks leading up to the tower attack. this might be for game design reasons, idk. the relic has essentially recompiled all the engram's memories, but since he died before he got a chance to hit up the ripperdoc for a commemorative tattoo, i think it can be read as a subconscious symbol. (the G20 motif could be a reference to August 20th, the date of the tower attack, so i liberally interpreted all three tattoos as tower-related).

there's obviously a tie-in to the game's running use of tarot symbology. i don't pretend to know anything about tarot, so i'll leave more complex thoughts in that vein to someone who knows more.

i'll similarly spare you any posturing about homeric ekphrasis, but it's notable that johnny's metal arm might be of arasaka make (he's tellingly tried to scratch off the logo), which creates a strange parity of imagery: the mechanical arm, from which johnny takes his stage name moniker, was installed by arasaka during his military service, but his subconscious has populated his organic arm with symbols of his violent, but ultimately self-defeating rebellion.

to me, this evokes an framework theme: johnny, the man and the engram, is as much an artifact of arasaka as he is a paragon of hyperindividualized counterculture. arasaka created him, in more ways than one. reckless, unchecked corporate subjugation seeded violent rebellion. in turn, johnny's methods are their methods, albeit with more forthrightness: he is ruthless, callous, paranoid, and habitually dominates everyone around him, even those closest. by the time he turns to rogue for help, we see he's alienated or turned on everyone his rebellion could meaningfully be for, notably including himself--even though he does mean to escape with spider and rogue, his final act as a living man is essentially self-destruction.

"protecting the things you love instead of destroying what you hate" may sound trite when stated so plainly, but this is the journey he undergoes with V.

his fundamental failure that sets the rest in motion is his failure to protect alt--not in chauvinist, damsel-in-distress sense, though that does factor in, but to know her for who she is, not as an extension of himself (as rilke says: love that greets, borders and protects). in his conversation with thompson (the journo) at the ripperdoc, he reveals he doesn't even know the extent to which she's famous netrunner and assumes arasaka must be there for him. we don't know their relationship outside of that scene, and it isn't any moral or personal failing of his that he can't save alt, but it is his continuous and pervasive failure to fundamentally know or understand her as she was that sets into motion all the rest of his destruction.

which leads to my conclusion: that despite the flaws of the tower attack premise and staging invoking real-life death and tragedy, it is a core strength of the narrative that johnny's character arc isn't one of atonement, but one of learning in death to live, with and for others.

[geraskierficrecs]

Modern AU Stories

when midnights break their sleep by SummerFrost

The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

(This is one of my favorite stories in the fandom.  I love it so much!!)

Give Me Nothing, Give Me You by dis

Ciri's kindergarten letter comes in the mail on a Tuesday. Geralt opens it, skims it, and frowns at the class his daughter has been assigned.

Dandelions.

Or: A modern AU with Dad!Geralt and Teacher!Jaskier.

Chopsticks by thisgirlsays22

“Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

���It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

New Monster Stories by kathkin

“So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Where There’s a Witcher by ghostinthelibrary

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

Only Human Series by ghostintxelibrary

It’s a Tuesday, so someone is threatening to kill Jaskier.

Geralt doesn’t know why he’s surprised anymore.

Geralt moonlights as a superpowered vigilante called the Witcher, but his cover identity is the mild-mannered Geralt Rivia, reporter at The Continental Press. Jaskier is an entertainment writer at the Press and Geralt’s ex-boyfriend. He's obsessed with the Witcher, the vigilante who has saved his life multiple times. When Geralt is blackmailed by a powerful sorcerer into pursuing the Shrike, a serial killer who’s been targeting abusive men, Jaskier gets involved, despite Geralt’s best efforts.

(Seriously, all of her stuff is amazing.  Read it all.)

Thieves and Riches

Geralt is just trying to do a favor for an old friend when he finds himself tied up and shoved into a storage closet by a group of robbers. There he meets Jaskier, an enigmatic cat burglar who is a little too good at teasing a reaction of the normally stoic detective.

I’ll Never Be Free From Your Smile by whisperedstory

Geralt isn't sure how he got here, standing in his kitchen in black gym shorts and a baby pink—baby fucking pink—shirt that stretches too tightly over his muscles and has Toss a Coin written in sparkling gold letters across his chest while Jaskier is aiming a camera at his face.

Or: Jaskier is a YouTuber and Geralt is his best friend and roommate.

Next to You by Bean_Writes

Moving to a new town is one thing. Moving to a new town, becoming best friends with his neighbor and falling head over heels for her dad is something entirely different.

In his second year of college, Jaskier struggles with his undying crush on Geralt, Ciri's dad. It also doesn't help that the man's job involves him looking like an absolute wet dream come true, emerging from beneath a car, muscles flexing, slick with sweat and grease.

He's really fucked.

The Tale of Jaskier's Grudge Against Historians (and how they gave him his happy ending anyway) by notebooksandlaptops

[Text Sent From Ciri] Is there a reason why a love letter to Yen and Geralt is in the British Museum signed from you?? -C

[Text Sent to Ciri] Because Historians are nosey pricks. Do NOT tell your parents. -J

[Text Sent From Ciri] ;) – C

The winking face of a semicolon and a bracket stared up at him, composed of unforgiving pixels. She wouldn’t, would she? No. No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

-///-

Or, an exploration of the reason (immortal) Jaskier hates historians (hint: it's because they keep stealing his shit and putting it on display)

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bards Sister  Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Burn

Under cut for spoilers of S2 and a bit of theory spouting, Yenralt and (depending on how you squint) unrequited Geraskier.

So, we know Jaskier's song is called Burn, right? And Hot Topic ruined the surprise by releasing images of their Jaskier Tour t-shirt which calls it the Burn Butcher Burn tour (or was this a fan edit? Doesn't matter.) We've all assumed that it's about Geralt but what if it's not?

Last we saw, Jaskier and Geralt have an argument, part ways. It's left Jaskier a bit (a lot) bitter and he goes off to prove to himself that he is good at what he does and has many talents. Which is how he joins the secret service, becomes a spy. His talents are recognised and off he is shipped to Nilfgaard to gather intelligence under the guise of a court bard.

While in Nilfgaard he hears about Sodden and how Yennefer burned the army where it stood. Needless to say she is a rather hated figure. 20,000 of Nilfgaard's army was killed at Sodden. That's a lot of people, a huge number of families left with loved ones never to return.

The opportunity is too good. If Geralt, the Butcher of Blaviken chose her to love, Jaskier will honour that. Even better, he will make them match.

Thus 'Burn Butcher Burn' is born. The anthem to commemorate the all those from Nilfgaard who fell at the fiery hands of Yennefer, the Butcher of Sodden.

[emiel-rxgis]

If you think about it Geralt had pretty fucked up life. And I mean like REALLY upsetting and unfair.

When he was a child he was abandoned by his mother whom he never had a chance to get to know. When he grew up he was living isolated, spending hours on exhaustive training. Then, he went through the trail and probably saw death of his friends for the first time in his life. After he left Kaer Morhen his first quest was to kill the bandits wanting to hurt a girl and said girl screamed and run away at the sight of her rescurer.

He was constantly feared and/or hated, stigmatized by an image of a brutal, greedy and dense witcher. He was working his ass off to cut himself off from this stereotype by learning how to read, write and speak eloquently. He was fetishized by sorceresses and was taken advantage by one of them.

He met a women he fell in love with but she didn't feel the same for a long time and their relationship was very bumpy, with constant ups and downs in form of occasional meet ups (mainly for sex because neither of them was ready enough to properly express their feelings) and then long times of avoiding each other (though not always intentional).

He had a best friend who once was his voice of reason on many occasions but then he started to mainly irritate him. He adopted a daughter who he lost at least two times and he had to suffer silently, knowing how much pain she have been through.

He was used in a political machine by many people and politics was probably the last thing he have been interested in.

He permanently lost an ability to move his arm efficiently and to move without a constant pain in his knee. He had to live with the name "Butcher of Blaviken", which reminded him of probably the last thing he wanted to become. To become perceived as evil which he was supposed to fight.

He lost the love of his life, his child, his friends (who were people he didn’t know long, maybe even didn’t know well but they still were able to left their lives behind and join this lonely witcher on his journey) but people whom he had the right reasons to hate (but he didn't) were living.

He just wanted to fulfill the mission of a witcher - to protect others from the evil that was looming in the dark. Soon, he realized that no matter what he was doing, no vyvern or manticore would be as horrific or evil as humans.

Even though he wasn't entirely human, even though he wasn't perceive himself as such, he was one of the most tragic human beings. He realized that he was making mistakes and was trying to learn from them. He wasn't indifferent to the suffering of others, even though he was the one suffering. He knew, maybe too well, that the world and people were responsible for the evil, but he has a part of him who was seeking justice no matter what he had to do.

[king-finnigan]

wingless thing

this is a oneshot that i was planning on turning into a full series at some point, but i never really had any ideas for the main storyline. so here it is, now; it’s an AU where everyone on the continent is born with wings. the only people who don’t have them are witchers.

Geralt sighs as he looks up at the tavern, built into the side of the mountain. There is no path up, no way to get there other than flying. Which wouldn’t be an issue for anyone else.

But unfortunately, Geralt isn’t anyone else.

He lets out an annoyed huff and Roach bristles softly, pushing at his shoulder with her nose. He pats the side of her neck, tangling his fingers through her brown mane. “Sorry, girl,” he mutters. “Gonna have to sleep outside again tonight.”

He doesn’t really know what he expected. Posada is full of mountains, of course people are going to build as high up as they can to get away from the creatures and monsters on the ground. Still, he’d been looking forward to a proper meal and a soft bed for the night, but it looks like he’ll have to make do with his bedroll and some dried meat. He always does.

He takes the saddle and reigns off of Roach and starts setting up camp – laying down his bedroll, gathering wood for a fire, checking his dwindling supplies. He counts his coin, finds out he’s still low on it and gold hasn’t magically appeared in his pouch since he looked this morning.

It’s the reason why he came here in the first place. Usually, he doesn’t venture this close to the mountains – the buildings always high up and only accessible from the air – but there haven’t been a lot of monsters in the plains and forests lately, so he had no other choice but to head east.

He looks up as he hears wings flapping, watches with a barely-hidden scowl when a young man descends from the air, softly lowering himself on one of the branches of a tree at the edge of the clearing. His feathers are a light shade of brown, almost golden in the late afternoon light, interspersed by darker ones painting long stripes across his wings. The young man cocks his head, keen, blue eyes taking in the sight of Geralt sitting on the ground, wingless.

“What are you doing down here?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, his already thin patience running out quickly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Setting up camp.” Apparently this young man either doesn’t know what a rhetorical question is, or he’s unable to pick up on them. “But why down here?”

Geralt glares at him, narrowing his eyes at those golden-brown wings. The young man merely raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. Geralt sighs. “I can’t get up there.”

“Up where? The inn?” Geralt nods, and the stranger finally seems to get it, his eyes flicking to where Geralt’s wings should be, his mouth falling open in a soft ‘O’. He appears to figure out a lot of things in the next few seconds, his face going from confusion to realization back to confusion numerous times.

Geralt sighs, lighting the fire with a quick Igni, the blissful quiet stretching out between them.

“You’re the Witcher,” the young man says eventually. “Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken.” Geralt resists the urge to growl at the mention of that cursed town, his mind unhelpfully providing him with the memories of Renfri, of her blood coating his hands, of Stregobor cutting off her grey-and-white wings while the entire town chased Geralt away. He shakes his head to rid himself of the images.

Finally, the young man comes down from the tree, the tips of his wings dragging in the dirt behind him as he walks towards Geralt, extending his hand. Geralt doesn’t take it and looks away. Eventually, the young man gives up and sits down on the other side of the fire, big, blue eyes taking Geralt in, his brown feathers trembling slightly in excitement.

“I’m Jaskier, by the way.” Geralt doesn’t respond, but the young man continues regardless. “You know, I’m a bard. My lute is still up at the inn-“ he jabs his thumb up at the side of the mountain “-so you’ll just have to take my word for it, but it seems to me that you’ve got a bit of an image problem, Witcher. You know, I could be your barker-“

“No.”

“-spreading the tales of- of… Geralt of Rivia, the…” He seems to think for a few seconds, chin in his hand. “The White Wolf!” he finally exclaims, spreading his wings and arms dramatically, nearly knocking into Roach, who bristles angrily, taking a few steps away from the annoying and expressive bard.

Geralt looks at Jaskier for a few moments. “The White Wolf?” he eventually asks, voice flat.

Jaskier nods excitedly. “Yes! Because your hair is white and you don’t have any wings! I saw you pacing around here before I arrived, and I thought to myself ‘wow, this guy looks just like a wolf stalking its prey’, so there you have it! White Wolf! Do you like it?”

“No. Go away.” What the fuck does he need a barker for? He’s perfectly fine on his own. He’s managed seventy years alone on the path without wings, and he’ll manage a thousand more, thank you very much. Now all he needs is for this guy to fuck off and let him be so he can get some much-needed sleep. He’ll set out early again tomorrow.

Jaskier pouts a bit but gets up, luckily. “Alright, aright. I’ll leave you to it, then. Bye, Geralt.”

“Hmm. Bye.” He doesn’t look up from the fire, sees the flames dance in front of him as Jaskier flaps his wings and starts running, eventually taking off, up and up into the sky, towards the inn built into the mountainside. Once the sound of wings flapping has faded away, Geralt lets himself relax and eats a meagre meal of dried meat and a crust of stale bread. He falls into a restless sleep after that, his dreams plagued by black and white wings, speckled with blood.

---

He sets out early the next day, towards Dol Blathanna. A goat farmer had approached him in the morning, offering a hundred coins for a demon that kept stealing his goats. Geralt highly doubts that it’s a demon, but a job’s a job, and no matter how little money a hundred coins is, it’s better than nothing.

He saddles Roach and heads to the east. Before long though, he hears the sound of wings, someone flying towards him.

“Geralt! Hi!” Jaskier lands next to him, using his momentum to fall into step next to Geralt, Roach too slow and the branches too low to keep flying. He’s a bit out of breath, but his entire face is lit up with a smile that easily rivals the morning sun. There’s a lute hanging against his hip, Geralt notices.

“So, what are we hunting?”

Geralt scoffs. “We aren’t hunting anything. Fuck off.”

Jaskier pouts. “You know, you should really work on your people skills. I bet you’d get more contracts, then, though of course my songs will help. I mean, I’m almost getting the impression that you want me to leave!”

Geralt throws him an apprehensive look. “I do want you to leave. Go away.”

Jaskier huffs, his feathers puffing up slightly in annoyance. “No! No, you need my help, Geralt of Rivia. Unless, of course, you want to be forever known as the Butcher of Blaviken and a wingless monster.”

Geralt scoffs. “I am.”

“What? The Butcher of Blaviken or a wingless monster?”

“Both.”

Jaskier gasps, hand dramatically laying over his chest, wings stretching out, the tips bending forward a bit in shock. “You are most certainly not!”

“Well, I’m not a white wolf, either.”

Jaskier laughs softly, his wings folding behind his back again. “I assure you that you are. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but feels something soft unfurl in his chest. “Hmm.”

The bard grins. “So you do agree! Of course you do. I’m right, after all.”

It continues on like that for a while, Jaskier chatting on and on, his wings almost equally as expressive as his hands, and he almost slaps an increasingly disgruntled Roach with them several times. Meanwhile, Geralt keeps quiet, only giving monosyllabic answers from time to time, keeping an eye out for this so-called ‘demon’. Eventually, he dismounts Roach, leaving her behind at one of the only trees visible in the plain of yellowed grass, the rich mountains no more than a silhouette behind his back. He continues on foot, Jaskier following closely behind, still chattering.

“Sorry, what are we looking for again?”

“Blessed silence.”

“… Yeah, don’t really go in for that.”

Something rustles in the grass, and Geralt barely has time to turn around before something hits Jaskier square between the eyes. The bard collapses onto the ground, and the witcher walks towards him, finds a small, metal ball on the ground. He looks up when he hears footsteps, registers the dark silhouette of a person against the bright sunlight, and is promptly struck against the back of the head, his vision fading to black rather abruptly and violently.

---

He wakes up in a cave, hands bound by his side, something soft and firm and trembling pressed to his back. He frowns, confused, until he moves his head a bit and feels feathers tickling against his cheeks, the wings behind him puffed up in fear – except they aren’t his wings. Of course they’re not; he lost his a long time ago.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” Jaskier says behind him.

Geralt grunts, starts struggling against the ropes that bind his wrists by his side.

“This is the part where we escape!” Jaskier exclaims, wings fluttering a bit in excitement, as if this is all just some big adventure.

“This is the part where they kill us,” he growls, still struggling against the bonds.

“Who’s they?” Jaskier’s wings contract in pain against Geralt’s back when a she-elf kicks the bard in the stomach.

Everything is a bit of a blur after that, getting his and the bard’s life threatened by the elves – easily identified as elves by their iridescent dragonfly wings – Jaskier’s lute getting destroyed, the elven king talking about the atrocities committed against them, and eventually letting the bard and the witcher go, even giving Jaskier a new, elven lute, the wood as shimmery and iridescent as their wings.

And before long, they’re headed back to Posada. Jaskier walks in front of him, strumming his new lute, singing a song of which only three words are true, give or take, his wings puffed up to let the soft breeze ruffle through the feathers.

Back in Posada, Jaskier offers Geralt to carry him up to the inn, which he resolutely refuses. There is a certain shame in having to stay on the ground while everyone else flies past, his differences pointedly underlined by his obvious lack of wings, but there’s something else entirely revolting about having to be carried up by a scrawny, little bard.

But instead of going back up to the inn alone, Jaskier stays on the ground with Geralt, practically stealing the Witcher’s spare bedroll.

“So,” Jaskier says, gently plucking away at the strings of his new lute. “What’s the deal with-“ he gestures at Geralt “-you know.”

He rolls his eyes. He’d much rather go to sleep right now than listen to the bard make redundant statements and ask vague questions. “No, I don’t know.”

Jaskier seems to hesitate, biting his bottom lip gently. “The wings,” he eventually half-whispers, as if it’s something Geralt’s sensitive about. Which he is, but he’d never show anyone that. “Where are they?”

“None of your business.” The light of the flames burns his eyes as he stares into the fire, and for a moment, he could swear he sees black and white feathers between the logs. For a moment, he’s still a boy at Kaer Morhen, looking on helplessly as they burn part of him, the barely-healed wounds in his back a constant, agonizing reminder of what he’s lost.

“Hmm,” Jaskier hums, plucking a few notes on his lute. “I suppose not. But there are rumours, you know? Like that you have to eat your own wings to become a Witcher.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Jaskier scrunches his nose. “Yeah, figured that one wasn’t real. Also heard a rumour that it’s what gives you your magic-“

“We don’t have magic.”

“-but my nan’s friend’s uncle’s brother’s teacher lost one wing during the war, and he didn’t get any magic powers, so I suppose that one’s a lie as well. I also heard a rumour-“

“Go to sleep, bard.”

Jaskier pouts at him for a second but Geralt doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he lies down on his bedroll, turning his back to the bard.

After a few seconds, he hears the faint rustling of clothes, the quiet thud of the elven lute being placed into the old, worn case, the clicking of locks being closed. He waits, watching the light of the fire dance across the trees around them, as Jaskier’s breathing grows slower and deeper.

Only when he’s sure that the bard’s asleep, does he let himself relax slightly, wincing when he shifts- the motion pulling at scars he can never truly forget. No matter how many nights have passed since that day so many decades ago, the ache in his back never fades.

He slips into a restless sleep.

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by TerresDeBrume

Original summary:

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 8 of Fic covers

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

[multifandomfanficreclist]

Witcher Fic Mass Post

I have delved deep into the Witcher fandom during these quarantimes. This is a selection of the fics I’ve enjoyed.

All are Geralt/Jaskier unless stated otherwise.

***

Louder and Louder - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295869

Geralt tries to puzzle out why Jaskier keeps following him into danger after danger... completely missing the obvious. There's too great a gulf between what his witcher senses pick up, and what his damaged heart is willing to accept.

//

 "The bard’s heart always beats faster whenever the witcher draws near. That isn't unusual. So do the hearts of most humans he encounters. Not only do they blanch and recoil at the sight of his white hair and amber eyes, but they begin to sweat, the stench of their fear a sour tang at the back of his throat.

 But the bard never seems to reek of fear."

***

The Courting Jewellery A/B/O - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689562

Geralt doesn’t wear his courting jewelry—the medallion is apparently a witcher thing, not an omega one—and Jaskier supposes that makes sense. Geralt leads a very active life, and probably saves the jewelry for situations it won’t run the constant risk of getting ruined in. Certainly a nice set of earrings would be a lot more fragile than the plain studs he wears instead. A lot of omegas don’t wear their courting jewelry day to day, anyway, or at least not most of it. Geralt’s hardly unusual in that.

It’s a bit of a shame, though, because Jaskier’d like to see him in it.

***

You Follow? - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620703

I’m a Jaskier Rivia stan first and a person second @whitewolfpackleader: Did @bardofficial win a Grammy? No. But he DID put his husband in a leather tunic for the red carpet and in that sense, we’re all winners tonight

***

Front Row Praises - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326214

The girl rolls her eyes at him. “If you’re just going to stand here ogling the witcher, maybe go and do it out of the way.”

“Ogling.” Jaskier scoffs. “Who’s ogling?”

She looks unimpressed. “Have you told him you want him to fuck you?”

***

Even a Small Love - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473670

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

***

Redwood and Dandelion - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681252

"The Witcher's bought a room for the night, and says he'll pay double for anyone who can bed him without stinking of fear the whole time."

"Oh, I've fucking got this," Jaskier promised.

Or, the one where Jaskier works in a brothel and falls head over heels for the stoic, not-actually-that-scary Witcher who comes in requesting his services.

Geralt doesn't know what he's getting himself into.

***

Petrichor - Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866559/chapters/54652891

 “Geralt…? What, by Melitele’s tits, are you doing? The door, man, normal people use a d--... Geralt?” He noticed it now. The feverish sheen on the Witcher’s skin, the alert, skittish look in his eyes and the--. He cleared the distance between them in three strides. Geralt retreated until his back hit the wall with a dull thud, but Jaskier would not be deterred. He shoved his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck and breathed in deeply, his hands gripping the edges of the damp cloak draped over broad shoulders. “You’re…”

 “I need… need to ask you… for a…” He clenched his teeth, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Two gloved hands lifted to push Jaskier away from his chest; it felt like trying to move a mountain. Not because Jaskier pushed back, but because every fibre of his being wanted to pull the other way. Ask for a what though? ‘Favour’ didn’t quite fit the bill for what he was about to request, and so he stared at Jaskier with those intense golden eyes, while mentally scrambling for a coherent explanation amidst the brain fog.

The saga of Geralt and Jaskier getting together, falling in love with Eskel, and learning that it's all right to want (and let themselves have) things.

***

Where There’s a Witcher - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604140

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

***

Tired Symphony Verse - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597723

Silence reigned between them. Outside there was the dull sound of training swords clashing and Jaskier turned his gaze towards the window, watching the sky outside.

“I’m-- sorry.” Geralt said. It sounded truly remorseful.

Jaskier took a deep breath and then tipped himself slightly to the side, pressing his shoulder against the witcher’s.

“I know.”

***

There Goes my Heart Beating - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382665

“Sometimes,” Geralt says quietly, “I forget that you care.”

Jaskier looks up surprised and sees that Geralt is looking down at him with a small frown on his face. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighs, shaking his head fondly, “you foolish beef-brain. Of course I care.”

Or,

Five times Jaskier asks Geralt questions, and the one time Geralt asked Jaskier.

***

Shrug off the Shroud - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027161

askier's student doesn’t see him when she skids into the tavern. Her friends are already present, drinking merrily, and she slaps their table so hard their tankards rattle.

“Have you heard?" She flashes a gossiper's secretive grin. "The White Wolf’s gone mad.”

After Geralt sends Jaskier away, Jaskier returns to Oxenfurt and builds a good (albeit unfulfilling) life there. He's fine—moving on, truly—until gut-wrenching rumors start to circulate that the White Wolf's lost his his mind. Jaskier's a bard. A truth-teller. He can't just let the rumors go unsubstantiated.

***

Sometimes a Hammer, Sometimes a Lockpick - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998961

Geralt's been in a dungeon for two weeks and is understandably frustrated. Jaskier, on the other hand, is what one might call... livid.

***

New Monster Stories - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097970/chapters/55260658

 “So do you have a name?”

 “Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

 Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

 The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

***

When Midnights Break their Sleep - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647292

  The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

 shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

 "It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

***

An Exaltation of Wolves - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687699

Jaskier accompanies Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter and finds the other Witchers just as prickly--and just as deserving of love--as the White Wolf.

***

Lilacs and Dandelions - Jaskier/Yennefer/Geralt - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929526/chapters/54808162

“The Witcher believes you’re under a spell,” Yennefer said, conversationally, drawing a sip from her tea.

“I most certainly am,” said Jaskier to her in a warm drawl that Geralt recognized as the tone of voice he slipped into when flirting and frankly, things needed to start making more sense and fast before he gave into his impulse to do something rash and wholly unhelpful. Namely, chuck himself out the cottage window and into the sea.

Or Geralt seeks out Yennefer only to find her, of all unbelievable and ridiculous things, shacking up with his bard.

***

Woodash and Iron and Leather - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114921

Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear

[iam93percentstardust]

2020 Fic Recs Part 1

Hello everyone! If you saw @ad1thi‘s recent fic rec post going around, you know she got the idea from me. I had the idea a few months ago of doing a roundup of my favorite fics from 2020 at the end of the year because, let’s be honest with ourselves, I read a lot over the last twelve months, partially because this year, I really started settling into my own in fandom but mostly because this year was an absolute shitshow and I needed a distraction from everything going on outside my tiny apartment. I know it’s been a hard year for everyone and while there’s hope that next year might be a little better, there’s no guarantee so here are some of the fics that helped me get through this year. I hope you all like them as well.

Fics are organized by month and range over a variety of fandoms and ships. Since some of these are multi-chapters, I’ve organized them according to what date the last chapter posted. This got a little long so I’ve broken this up into 4 parts to be reblogged over the next two weeks.

January

Hope for the Holidays by @aurumacadicus (Winteriron)

Tony never expected to share Christmas with the man who killed his parents, but he's here now, so they should make the best of it.

Woodash and iron and leather by LokelaniRose (Geraskier)

Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear

Happiness: A Song in Three Parts by @newtypeshadow (Stuckony)

Tony's just a kid when he first hears the music. He's human, no one knows werewolves exist yet, and there's no sexy beefcake couple Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes coming out as werewolves and giving interviews to the press to explain the melody Tony heard sporadically during childhood is what werewolves—and the human mates of werewolves—hear when their soulmate is within a few miles of them.

By the time he finds out what the music means, he hasn't heard a note in years.

And when he finally hears it again, he's busy running for his life.

Heart in Hand by janonny (Stevetony)

Steve had been thinking — that was all he was doing, thinking, not moping, as Bucky described it — about the best way to make his feelings clear to Tony. He wanted it to be perfect. He needed it to be the best demonstration of sincere interest that Tony had ever received.

Bucky called it procrastinating, but Steve called it strategizing.

And this Courting Ceremony? It was perfect.

Now he just needed to figure out what to get Tony as a Courting gift. And what to wear. And what to say. And what to do.

-

Or the story where Tony, an Omega, holds a much belated Courting Ceremony. Steve joins up and loses his mind a little.

something i can treasure by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes (Geraskier)

Jaskier would not call himself a thief. But, well- he is elbow-deep in someone’s saddlebags, pulling up handfuls of pretty little bottles. They’re all filled up with jewel-bright potions, corked delicately, and they almost seem to hum in his hands.

Then, suddenly-

There’s the sharp point of a sword at his neck.

Lock & Key by sablier_bloque (Geraskier)

“Geralt, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” he asked. He clenched his jaw before offering a sharp, mirthless smile. “Because it looks like you got caught fucking the mayor’s wife, and now I’m not getting paid!”

“Well,” he laughed nervously, looking anywhere but up. “When you put it that way.”

In which Jaskier suggests a chastity device to prove himself a worthy travel companion, and of course, gives Geralt the key.

February

A hard curl of satisfaction by LokelaniRose (Geraskier & Yenalt in V-shaped polyamory)

Geralt was taught that a witcher is only good for one thing

Half Agony, Half Hope by @no-gorms (Stevetony)

Following the Battle of New York, the Avengers Initiative kicks into high gear under the leadership of Steve Rogers, i.e. Captain America. Tony didn’t mean to become part of this initiative, but it makes sense to sign on due to his experience with SHIELD and Rhodey’s War Machine suits.

The upside: Tony’s tech can be used in a widespread and meaningful way to help protect people. The downside: the last time Tony saw Steve, he’d rejected Steve’s proposal of marriage and broke his heart, leading to almost ten years of the two having no contact whatsoever. Until now.

when the bones are good by SummerFrost (Geraskier)

Julian is six when he realizes that he's got an astounding capacity for being an annoying bastard. He's seventeen when he finally decides to lean in.

Where There’s a Witcher by ghostinthelibrary (Geraskier)

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins.

Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

my body bruises at your touch by brawlite (Geraskier)

To lure a monster out, Geralt ties Jaskier up, making him look like easy prey. Surprisingly, Jaskier finds himself enjoying his time as bait a bit more than expected.

Do it Again by thisgirlsays22 (Geraskier)

By the twentieth time Geralt has gone through the loop, he decides to just throw himself off the cliff’s edge after Borch.

He wakes up to his twenty-first attempt.

“Fuck.”

The Song of the White Wolf by sospes (Geraskier)

“It’s a wolf, not a dog,” Geralt says flatly.

“It’s hurt.”

“It’s a wolf.”

“I’m helping it,” Ciri says, ignoring him, and turns back to the wolf.

But when is a wolf not a wolf? When it's everyone's favourite humble bard, of course!

March

Even Steel Blades Need Fire by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Geraskier)

Jaskier's given a lot to Geralt over the years, but there's one tiny, insignificant, minor molehill of a thing he's kept back from him.

Namely that Jaskier isn't human.

Mission Accomplished by @riotwritesthings (Winteriron)

Tony has had a terrible, rotten, no good day. Fortunately, he knows exactly what he needs to feel better.

With a Conquering Air by inexplicifics (Geraskier)

From the kinkmeme: AU Warlord!Geralt receives Tribute!Jaskier as a sacrifice to appease him in every way possible. Jaskier has no choice on the matter and he’s fully aware of the awful rumours that have spread about Geralt and his ruthless conquests. (But we all know those aren’t legit.) A classic angst with a happy ending please! A dash of smut to heal those scars and a sprinkle of new found love!

Jaskier arrives at Kaer Morhen knowing his family gave him up without a second thought, and absolutely sure that the dreaded Warlord of the North will value him even less than his own blood did. But the White Wolf and his pack are not what Jaskier expected...and if he's unreasonably lucky, Kaer Morhen might become far more of a home than Lettenhove ever was.

play out a spell in your sequence of chords (to inspire and sharpen our rusted swords) by AceSailorKoshkaRayn

Geralt cocked his head to the side curiously to regard the chittering fox caught in the hunter's trap. The beast had deep chestnut fur and eerily bright blue eyes. He knelt, and the creature hissed at him, baring his teeth in fear.

"I mean you no harm," he rumbled, hands palm-up. His swords were at his campsite, regardless. He reached forward slowly, and the fox didn't move, though it's teeth remained bared. It was a simple matter to pry open the trap, and the fox leapt away, chattering its teeth at him. Their eyes met for a long moment, amber to fantastical blue, and the fox dashed off.

Sighing faintly, hands resting on his knees, Geralt bowed his head tiredly. He rolled his neck to crack it, and rose to his feet to shuffle his way back to his camp.

Set out neatly next to his bedroll were three cleanly gutted rabbits, and Geralt paused in surprise. Roach whinnied softly, and stamped a hoof. A crown of golden wheat rested primly between her ears.

Ah. Fae, then. Services paid for services rendered. Hopefully the fae would consider them even, now, but something in him doubted it.

[unwhithered]

Ok ok so imagine this: what if jaskier refused to leave when geralt shouted at him at the top of the mountain? Sure he may have hidden behind the dragon for a moment but then he gathers his courage and is all "you are NOT allowed to talk to me that way, after all these years I've dedicated to you and kept you from going mad from loneliness and all the effort I've put into repairing your image! I am the greatest good you are ever gonna get!" and he just badgers geralt into apologizing.

“Uh. Right then. I’ll just...I’ll go and get the rest of the story from the others. See you around, Geralt.”

Jaskier turns and starts to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat. A great gaping darkness opens itself in his chest and threatens to suck Jaskier in and never let him up as he walks away from the greatest muse, the greatest friend, the greatest love he has ever known. Gods above, it hurts. Aches so bad that Jaskier trembles as he stumbles toward what remains of the hunting party, and tears prick at his eyes.

Behind him something slams against the ground and Geralt curses, loud and long and creative in a way he wasn’t when Jaskier first began traveling with him a decade ago. 

Jaskier slows, then stops. Has it really been a decade?

A decade of his life, following this Witcher around the Continent? Singing his praises and bettering his reputation? Traveling beside him, living beside him, laughing beside him? Sometimes even coaxing a laugh out of the Witcher himself.

Anger boils up suddenly at the realization that he has spent a third of his life at Geralt’s beck and call, only to be dismissed like a begging dog or an unsatisfactory servant. Spinning on his heel, Jaskier marches right back to Geralt, who is...

Well, the way Geralt is cursing to himself as he cleans his sword in rough, uncaring swipes can only be described as throwing a fit. Jaskier doesn’t let the unexpected show of emotion throw him off.

“You know what?” Jaskier bites out, just below a shout. His fists clench at his sides as he glares at Geralt. “You know what, Geralt? Fuck you. You don’t get to chase me off like a stray dog. You don’t get to speak to me like that. Not even when that witchy bitch has broken your heart. Not ever, in fact, you ungrateful ogre of a man!”

“Jaskier--”

“Oh no. I’m not done yet, Geralt of Rivia. Butcher of Blaviken. Because that’s who you were to the world, when we met - but I never saw that. I’ve spent a decade of my life - my fucking short, miserable, human life - telling your story, making the world see the same man I see when I look at you. You don’t get to make me wrong now by acting the brute. I won’t let you waste my life’s work just because destiny fucked you over one too many times.” Jaskier is screaming by the end of it, his voice echoing off of the mountain side. He doesn’t care who hears him. Maybe Geralt will feel some fucking shame for once if the whole damn mountain hears what an ass he is.

“Jaskier, shut up,” Geralt shouts right back.

“Oh go fuck yourself, Witcher.”

“I am trying to say I’m sorry, your insufferable bag of air, but you won’t shut up long enough to hear it!”

“Oh,” Jaskier huffs, the wind going out of his sails. His shoulders slump once more. “Well...I suppose that’s alright, then.”

[itsclydebitches]

Dialogue in the background: “They say the witcher’s a mate of the famed bard Dandelion. And that minstrel and our duchess once... you know! Wink, wink!” 

For a brief moment I lived in a world where “mate” didn’t also just mean friend, especially when combined with that innuendo 😂

Also the image of poor Geralt being known primarily through his relationship with Dandelion like 

Person: *gasp!* That white hair... the armor... you’re---

Geralt: Yeah, yeah, Geralt of Rivia. The Butcher of Blaviken. Famed witcher of the North. I know. 

Person: ---Master Dandelion’s mate! 

Geralt: .....hey what the fuck 

[yenfics]

Chapters: 12/12 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Stregobor (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Sabrina Glevissig, Tissaia de Vries Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Monster of the Week, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Geralt is a grumpy old man at heart, And Jaskier won't get off his damn lawn Series: Part 1 of Where There's a Witcher Summary:

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

[jaskiersvalley]

I absolutely love your writing! I just went through them all today :) The one that really stuck out to me is the monsterunderthebed!geralt - such an odd concept but it totally worked for them 😂

Monster-under-the-bed Geralt is a personal favourite of mine :D I’m really pleased you found that concept to work for these two idiots. While on the topic of odd concepts, I have another one for you. Have you ever considered witcher Jaskier and bard Geralt?

There was no denying that Jaskier was the most personable witcher in existence and had done a huge amount to boost the image humanity held of his kind. When he walked into town, people gave him a side eyed glance and pulled away but a few minutes in an inn and people relaxed around him. He could regale them with stories of his hunts, give them a flavour of the excitement that his life was. It was all carefully curated to sensationalise and titillate without giving away too much about how lonely and terrifying at all actually was. Jaskier would challenge anyone to face down an arch griffin and not shit their pants. Or look at a pack of drowners and not feel sick at the stench.

Posada was no different to any other town. Jaskier entered the tavern, swords across his back and people glanced at him before uneasily going back to their drinks. Ordering a drink of his own, Jaskier looked around, trying to figure out the best place to settle when he spotted a strange figure in the darkest corner. Sitting alone and being given a wide berth, Jaskier’s interest was more than piqued.

“I wouldn’t bother with him,” the barkeeper said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s bad news.”

Grabbing a second drink, Jaskier ignored the warning and sat down.

“I love how you sit in a corner and brood.” It got no reaction, the drink Jaskier pushed towards the man went ignored. Eyes roving over the man who stared off just to the left of Jaskier’s face, it was quite easy to figure out just who his new friend was.

“Lute, all black clothes, striking hair, I know who you are.” Jaskier was excited, having always wanted to encounter the notorious bard. “The one who wrote the ballad Butcher of Blaviken. You’re Geralt of Rivia.”

The drink that had been put in front of the bard was upended in Jaskier’s face and he smiled through the dripping, watered down ale.

“I’m not here to make you sing,” he reassured and got a grunt in return which was definitely progress. If rumours were to be believed, Geralt rarely ever spoke beyond the necessary and his songs, while haunting, were never popular with patrons in the moment. Sure, news of his melodies crept through the continent like strangling vines, they were whispered about but only once Geralt had moved on from the town. He was a good bard, great even, if Jaskier’s sources were anything to go by.

While Jaskier had said he wasn’t there to make Geralt sing, there was no denying that it was something he would love to hear some day. An idea was forming in his mind.

“Being a bard is dangerous business, travelling alone on deserted roads,” he mused. Though, looking at Geralt, he probably had no trouble keeping himself safe. If Jaskier wasn’t mistaken, there was at least a dagger up his sleeve and a scabbard for a short sword on the bench next to him. “So, I shall volunteer my services to protect you on your travels. We shall adventure together, you’ll get inspiration for your epics and ballads. In return, I get some interesting company and the great honour of protecting you from disgruntled patrons.”

He didn’t expect Geralt to push away from the table, gather his things and walk out. Hot on his heel, Jaskier followed, chattering away about the benefits of having a witcher, the symbiosis of such an arrangement. His words morphed into appreciation of the horse Geralt untied and swung up onto. Just as Jaskier was about to give the horse a pat, Geralt growled, “Don’t touch Roach.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, such a fine, noble steed!”

Following Geralt out of Posada, Jaskier started recounting one of his contracts, an unusually large nest of drowners.

“Maybe it will be the basis of your next epic. Surely worth a song cycle. The deeds of Jaskier. People will talk about us nonstop.”

“A song cycle of you killing various creatures the masses will inevitably feel sorry for. What’s in this for you again when you’re the villain of the songs?” Geralt grumbled.

“I am so glad you asked.” The smile on Jaskier’s lips was wide and easy. “They feel sorry for them, they actually pay attention to how not to create more monsters. Less work for me, fewer monsters in the world and everyone’s a winner.”

Looking up at Geralt, Jaskier saw him shake his head. However, he wasn’t being told to gt lost or being chased away with a short sword drawn. To Jaskier, it was all the agreement and encouragement he needed. He now had bard.

[g3n3515]

Jaskier’s Fear

It’s come to my attention that many of us creating fan works for The Witcher concerning Jaskier like to portray him as fearless of Witchers from the get-go. This is all fine, I don’t judge, writing him/portraying him makes for some nice fanwork which I also enjoy but may I also suggest:

Jaskier starts off scared shitless of Witchers. Cause why wouldn’t he? almost every other human adult is to a degree. To mention, he is a noble. His opinions on the world and its intricacies are obviously based off books and stories distributed in the high circles. That much is obvious when he meets the elves; he accuses them of being selfish and hiding treasures in their golden palaces.

You know what says almost the exact same thing about elves? Books you can loot in the royal palace of Vizima. They paint as bad an image for dwarves and Witchers, too. Because of where they are found, I can’t help but conclude people interpret these works as factual and that they are distributed to high society.

So Jaskier, who learned at an academy and was raised by nobility, would have to have some opinion of Witchers from such books. When he goes out into the world, he has no experience with any of these things, so his current knowledge is limited to his readings, resulting in the statement with the elves.

Jaskier would fear witchers like everyone else. Because the books and his entourage just showed him that it was the right reaction. Obviously now, we are off to a bad start for him to build any form of relation with them.

But this is where Jaskier’s stubborn and perhaps self-destructive curiosity comes into play. If he’s curious, absolutely nothing, even great fear, will stop him from answers and discovery.

So as Jaskier’s travelling to discover the world, he walks up to a stranger in the back of a tavern. Obviously, his gut sinks when he realises the stranger is not only a Witcher, but the Butcher of Blaviken.

But terrified or not he is intrigued. He never saw a Witcher before. Geralt dosen’t look like what the bard pictured them to be at all. He boasts his identity to the whole tavern and what does Geralt do? he just runs off without a word. No aggression, no blood no nothing. He just stepped off.

What was up with that?

He wants answers. Despite how scared he is of him, he follows Geralt. He dosen’t relent when Geralt punches him, because Geralt didn’t kill him right there and then like he thought he would. He’s the Butcher of Blaviken and the stories paint him to be a bloodthirsty killer but he just lets him off like that?

Seriously, what was up with that?? He gets more curious.

When they get to the hunt and captured, Geralt is swift to try and protect him. His books though him Witchers were supposed to be careless but, but this one just threw himself in front of him and danger, no questions asked. It was… heroic, to say the least.

The fear shifts just a little bit at this notion. Now Geralt is still a big and cold witcher in his mind, but he is also somewhat of a protector.

They get freed and Jaskier decides he wants to know so much more. To his knowledge a witcher’s job was to kill, yet the Witcher riding his horse a few feet away from him did not kill anyone that day. Geralt meets none of his pre-built notion of witchers. He wants to know all of what the books got wrong, and he’ll sing about them too.

Then time passes and Jaskier’s view of Geralt goes from big scary witcher to just cold-hearted a bit later. Then he’s proven that’s not the case at all, because Geralt cares for his horse too much be cold-hearted. He saw him purposefully lose a fist fight to let a man get crowns to feed his family. Saw him soothe a child with his signs as they recalled his father getting shredded by a monster before is very eyes, and he does it so gently, kneeling at the kid’s level.

He concludes that beneath all that hard interior, the man cares. He cares so much that Jaskier a bit ashamed to he ever feared him. There existed not a single reason on the continent as of why he should. Sure, his exterior is intimidating and all that, but this was not what he was, deep down.

The association of safety and Geralt sticks to the bard after that.

Now the whole “he’s not scared” thing begins. Jaskier gets used to other Witchers mind-bogglingly quick and it is not ignored. Geralt’s brother immediately notice the human who has zero traces of fear. When questioned about it, the white one just blink, takes a whiff and says; “Oh, you’re right. He isn’t scared. Strange.” Because the change in Jaskier’s scent was slow and gradual. Geralt may have never really noticed the change before.

The bard isn’t scared because if Geralt dosen’t think they’re a threat, Jaskier reasons there’s no reasons for him to be. Besides, he learned his lesson of judging Witchers by appearance.

On his side, Geralt probably smelt how scared Jaskier was when they first met. He did not understand why the bard insisted on following him around if he feared him so much.

Admittedly, he is a bit intrigued too. So, he lets Jaskier run around him. He would just run off in horror eventually, anyway.

But he never does, even if the fear dosen’t subside. Geralt tests him, to see if Jaskier would flee if he were just mean enough, yelled loud enough, but the bard dosen’t relent. Instead he just bites back, sings louder when Geralt tells him to stop much more rudely than was necessary. He roughs him up, bats his shoulder, Jaskier just gets back up, says “ow.” Moves on. Hits back. He never just bends even if he is terrified.

Geralt eventually realises he cannot be rid of Jaskier. The tests are dropped. He notices how whenever Jaskier smells like fear, he hides behind him, after a while.

Geralt has no choice but to admit he was the reason of this because no one else was around to do such a thing. And I am sure as hell this realisation would affect him because someone who used to fear him greatly now associates him with safety and protection. Has it ever hit you someone found you safe enough to desire protection or help without you never doing anything but being yourself? To people like Geralt who have low self esteem, think they’re monsters or unworthy of things, that must be worth more all the riches there ever was.

Just food for thought but think!! About how much growth!! Jaskier and Geralt can just be used as an example too, imagine stories of random humans learning not all is what it seems and growing from it and Witchers realising those who stopped to get to know them treat them like normal people, like they’re important with no other explanation but the fact they’re actually good people deserving of respect?? It’s just so good!

[underatedcharactersunite]

A Tale of Two Souls; Meeting Jaskier

Summary; As Geralt and Y/N continue to journey to their next location, they come across a Bard named Jaskier. From that moment onwards, Y/N's life is turned upside down. Her life is no longer envolving around fighting Monsters and exploring the world. Jaskier draws out emotions that she buried a long time ago. Who knows what's going to happen.  Pairing; Jaskier X Female Reader WordCount; 3,234 Warnings; A couple of swear words. Angst, Fluff 

Series Masterlist

Travelling with Geralt was a unique experience. On one hand, it was extremely rewarding, being able to travel to many beautiful and adventurous places, on the other hand, it often entitled getting covered in some sort of creature guts.

Apart from that Geralt's company was rather pleasant. Contrary to people's opinions about Witcher's; Geralt was not heartless nor a Monster instead, he could be kind and often put other's before himself. Over the years, Geralt had become like a brother to you, a very overprotective, menacing brother, who would willingly kill anyone, who ventured to mess with you.

"The Tavern is not too far from here. We will stop and have a drink." Looking ahead as you rode on your horse Tarot, Geralt was right, in the faint distance you could make out the Taverns silhouette.

"You mean I'll drink one while you attempt to drink the entire Tavern dry." You taunted. You were fortunate with Geralt, while he was not a massive talker, he was never easily offended. So ridiculing between the two of you was light and playful.

"You should learn to be quicker if you want more than one cup." Grinning, the two of you proceeded in silence as you made your way up towards the Tavern.

Entering any location with Geralt always had to be approached with caution. Any stranger was a potential contender for inherent conflict. The ancient tales of Witcher's had left everyone with a bitter attitude. People will often quick to require Geralt's services, yet the moment he entered the territory they deemed theirs they suddenly. considered it their right to throw stones and insults.

It occurred almost every location, the two of you visited. It disturbed you how willingly they were to ask Geralt to kill the Monster, but the second he required a place to eat or sleep they wanted nothing to do with him.

Tying up Roach and Tarot, you pressed a loving pet on Tarot's head. In the background, you could some sort of music a bard trying to get paid perhaps. Entering the Tavern, your suspicions were correct. As long as he frained an attempt to bother the two of you, he would be fine.

Taking a seat at the table in the darkest corner that was spare. You called the women over who was passing out the beverages. It was easier for you to ask, less eventuality for conflict. Removing two from her tray, you presented her with some coin to pay for them.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Geralt, I thought we already spoke of this. We take turns in paying for things. We are equal in this friendship. That means paying for things equally." Taking a sip of your mead, you acknowledged your surroundings. The Tavern wasn't all too bad. You and Geralt had frequented worst places, this by far was one of the finer ones.

"We'll have these and then go, try and find a place to camp for the night." You nodded, staying in one place was never a particularly wise idea. Besides, while the two of you stopped anyway, the two of you weren't able to find anyone who needed your services. 

Meanwhile, the Bard continued to sing. Unlike most Bards you previously encountered, this one could sing. His voice soothed your aching mind as you focused on the mead in the cup in front of you. The regulars who frequented the Tavern didn't seem to match with your opinions as they very quickly began to chuck bread rolls at him.

You attempted to force down the laughter that strived to leave your lips. Geralt's eyebrow raised as you forced your cup onto your lips to stifle your laughter. It was all fun and games, until out of the corner of your eye did you witness the Bard travel across the room over to you both.

"I love how you sit in the corner and brood, am I interrupting something?" The Bard questioned as you glanced over to Geralt. You had observed the expression on his unreadable face many times before. If only the Bard was as clued onto Geralt as you were. 

"We do not wish to be disturbed." Geralt explained, turning his head away from the Bard, while you decided to take a proper glance at him.

The Bard's eyes were a gorgeous shade of grey contrast to his brown hair which framed his face attractively. You didn't miss the thick patch of chest hair that threatened to escape his peaking from his jacket. Overall, the Bard was attractive.

"Good, yeah good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance. Except you two. Come on, you don't wanna keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less." Observing Geralt's signature eye roll, you knew the Bard was going to deal with Geralt's coldness.

The bard seemed unphased as he took the seat right next to you, anxiously anticipating Geralt's thoughts. Geralt was unpredictable, and you had no sign on how was going to reply to the Bard.

"They don't exist."

"What doesn't exist?" The Bard appeared genuinely confused, but you knew exactly the point Geralt was about to make. Taking a sip of the mead as you observed the conversation unfold. The conversation unfolding in front of your very eyes had been the most entertaining one you'd encountered in a while.

"The creatures in your song."

"Yeah, and how would you know.” 

"Oh fun, white hair, Big old loner, two very very scary looking swords. I know who you are." As Geralt stood to remove himself from the Bard, you quickly understood it was time to go. Picking up your sword and your bag, you threw it over your shoulder and followed Geralt.

"You're the Witcher? Geralt of Rivia. So if you're Geralt, then you must be Y/N, the enchanting Shieldmaiden. I must say words cannot truly describe your beauty. Called it!"

Within moments, you recognised that while the Bard was gifted in singing and flattery, digression was not one of his gifts. A simple rest top turned into work. One of the patrons named Netty, needed a Devil killing who was stealing their grain. Knowing well enough that the creature they had witnessed was not actually "The Devil" you didn't know quite what you meant to be searching for.

Walking besides Tarot, you followed Geralt quietly. At least the two of you had seemed to rid yourself of the Bard. Although the damage had been done. You presumed it was better than having stones thrown at you, or being chucked out. Besides a job is a job after all.

"Need a hand. I've got two, one for each of the Devil's horns." Out of no-where, the Bard came running down the hill. Perhaps walking away was not a distinct enough hint that Geralt was not willing for company.

"Go away."

"I won't be but a silent backup. Look I heard your note, and yes maybe real adventures would make better stories and you Sir smell choc-full of them amongst other things. I mean what is that Onion, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak."

"It's onion."

"Right yeah. Oh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the butcher of Blaviken. What about you, my sweet lady? Surely you could tell me the many tales that the two of you have shared."

"Geralt it appears you have finally have a fan. Road life does not place well for a Bard. Go back to the Tavern. We'll deal with "the Devil"

"Jaskier, my name is Jaskier." Giving Jaskier a gentle smile, you quickened your step.

"It was lovely to meet you Jaskier, come on Tarot."  Walking away, you got several paces in-front of Geralt before he stopped. I thought he was trying to get away from Jaskier. As Geralt turned and glanced at Roach, you had a sinking feeling. This wasn't about to be pleasant.

"Come here."

A horrific thud, and a rattle of Jaskier's lute, he hunched over in agony. If that was not bad enough, Jaskier landed onto the ground with remarkable force. Credit it needed to be given you observed, Jaskier attempted to get up straight away. Against your better nature, you let go of Tarot's reigns to check on Jaskier.

"What have I told you about punching Bards? And you were my polite warnings not enough. Also, why do I get the feeling, you being punched happens a lot." Running a hand through your hair, you bent over to check on Jaskier. Surprisingly Jaskier was nothing but a little winded.

"He was following us, what else was I meant to do?" Setting eyes on Geralt, you cocked your eyebrow.

"I don't know perhaps telling him to leave us alone."

"Wasn't that exactly what you were attempting to do? With excellent failure might I add." Frowning at Geralt's words you rolled your eyes, while you directed your head to Jaskier, you did not miss the small twitch of Geralt's lips. At least someone was amused.

"Jaskier, as you have just experienced. Travelling with a Witcher is dangerous, especially to Bards. Now please return to the Tavern, where you will be safe from everything, including Geralt." Turning away from Jaskier, you mounted Tarot just like Geralt had done with Roach expecting to leave the Bard behind.

"Reading between the lines and the gut punches. Chum, I'd say you have a bit of an image problem. Were I to join you, on this feat to defeat the devil of Posada, I could I relieve you of that title. All the North would be too busy singing the tales of Geralt of Rivia the white wolf or something."

"Butcher is right." You frowned when Geralt said that. You were there when Geralt encountered Renfri you knew he had no choice. They forced him into a decision that was cruel and unfair.

"Geralt, we both know what happened that day was not your fault."

"Do you mind if I hop on there with you, I'm not exactly wearing the right footwear."

"Don't touch Roach." Several paces later, Geralt hoped off of Roach, tying her to a nearby tree. Following Geralt's actions, you joined Geralt by the tree.

"Stay alert and watch the Bard. We don't need a dead Bard on our hands." Agreeing with Geralt, you lightly touched his arm. Geralt never liked being touched, but he understood sometimes you needed to reassure him without saying anything. Following Geralt, you forgot Jaskier had recently joined the two of you.

"Geralt...Y/N...Geralt...Where are you going? Geralt, Y/N, don't leave me? Y/N I thought you were better than him. Hello. What are we looking for again?"

“Blessed Silence,”

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that." Laughter escaped your lips, walking silently alongside Geralt.

"Have you ever hunted a devil before Geralt?"

"Devil's don't exist."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Sometimes there are monsters sometimes there's money rarely both. That's the life."

Out of no-where, something darted past your head. Your senses heightened. Something or someone was out there, and they knew you were there.

“Shit!” Geralt yelled, examing Geralt understanding that as the unknown object darted past you, it had skimmed Geralt's forehead.

"Act two begins. What was that it looks like a tiny cannonball. Oh my gosh, Geralt it is a Devil. Oh, I have to see this magical this mythical-" Jaskier didn't get to finish his sentence as something hit him directly in the forehead and once again he hit the ground with a thud.

"Jaskier!"

"Stay with him I'll deal with Monster." Closing your eyes for a moment, you studied at Geralt.

"Geralt, I thought we made a deal." You contested, but Geralt was already marching away when he decided to stop and shift back to you.

"I agreed to stop hitting Bards."

"The other deal. The one where we deal with Monsters together. So neither of us die."

"I agreed to that when we didn't have to protect the Bard. That is your job. Long ago remember what we promised each other?"  

"To make this work, we needed to trust each other." With a hum, Geralt continued marching away, leaving you to deal with Jaskier. Kneeling beside him, you sighed.

"I did warn you in all fairness, but of course you didn't listen. Which means that you'll probably be staying with us, lesson one in being Geralt's companion. If something is thrown at you duck because they never throw only once."

"Lesson two, don't enter someone else's territory." An unknown voice broke your gaze on Jaskier's face. Something hard and heavy smacked your face, knocking you out.

Waking up, my body felt constricted. What happened? One moment you were giving an unconscious Jaskier his first lesson, the second you remember nothing but blackness. It didn't help someone else was trying to escape also.

"This is the part where we escape." You heard Jaskier's voice, at least he was awake, on your other side, you glanced down at the familiar black armour.

"This is the part where they kill us."

"Who's they?" A young female elf came out of no-where, kicking you directly in the face. The main was excruciating, as you opened and closed your jaw trying to get some feeling back into it. She was quick to kick both Geralt and Jaskier, not leaving anyone out.

"Elves."

"Hey that's my lute, give that back. Geralt, do ya Witchering"

"If it's that simple, do you think we'd be all tied up right now?" You snarled, trying to think of a way to get you out of this situation. Receiving another round of kicks, you glared at the female elf if you got free you swore she was going to pay for this. With the female elf speaking in Elvish, you translated it perfectly.

"Oh my elvish speech is rough I only got part of that."

"Humans shut up."

Jaskier spoke back in Elvish, and at that moment, you truly wanted to punch him.

"Do you wanna die right now?" The female elf spoke, turning in Jaskier's direction, trying to make eye contact with him.

"Jaskier, I will buy you a new lute if you just shut up."

"As opposed to later." Geralt snarled. You were beginning to wonder, how you were calm, while the other two were terrified.

"No please not the lute." All of you received another kicking, yours this time aimed perfectly at your chest.

"Leave off he's just a Bard, and she's just a young woman." Unfortunately, the female elf didn't take too kindly to Geralt's words, punches began hitting him repeatedly in the face.

"Leave him alone! What did he do to you? Nothing. We were just walking through, enjoying the scenery." The female elf stopped punching Geralt, turning her focus directly onto you.

"You don't deserve the air you breathe. Everything you touch you destroy." The female elf began to punch after punch directly across your face, but you kept still. Each punch caused the other elf in the corner to snap the lute. Throwing her knee up until your face, you hissed.

"You hide in your golden palaces, beat a bound man and a woman too scared to even look at them in the eye," Jaskier yelled as you rested your head back, working your hands to find his. This was never meant to be his problem to deal with.

"Do you like my golden Palace. Hmm, does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" As she gripped Geralt's jaw, he took the time to headbutt her. She landed a distance away from us, fair enough for the beatings to stop for now.

"Wait what's wrong with her?"

"She's sick."

"Oh, who's this?"

"He's Filavandrel, King of the elves."

"You were stealing from them." The Devil looking creature, explained the situation between the elves and the humans. How they were forced out of their homes, and have to use a Slyivian to do their bidding.

"No-one was supposed to get hurt."

"What's three humans in the ground? When countless elves have died."

"One human, the other's complicated."

"Thanks for that Geralt."

"Let them both go."

"Then Posada will know that we've been stealing. Humans will attack, many will die on both sides."

"The lesser evil. No matter what you chose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." Geralt's words stung. Knowing that after all this time, he was unable to see himself just as you saw him hurt you in unimaginable ways. "Well that's the problem, I can't, and this is necessary."

"I understand, as long as you understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death."

"Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil, even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been. Humans just adapted better."

"You say adapt, and I say destroy."

"You are choosing to starve, your cutting off your ear to spite your face."

"You think this is about pride. My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. When they fought back, they were slaughtered. The great cleansing humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave. For everyone I loved. Now the humans proudly watch these fields, grow. Our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver towers, now I’m Filavandrel of the edge of the world. If I bring my people down from the mountains, it would mean bowing to humans. They’ll make slaves of us”

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild, get strong again. Show the humans that you are more then what they fear you to be."

“Like you Witcher.”

"Not too long ago, I felt like you. I was angry at the entire world, the situations I was placed in. The way my life turned out. I saw the good in no-one. Until Geralt found me one day. Geralt taught me to accept everyone, no matter what they have done to you in the past." You informed Filavandrel only the top of a very long and complicated story.

“She's right. I have learnt to live with them. It wasn't easy, but I realised to live,I needed to learn to deal with them."

"Please my King there are others a new generation, of us that wish to fight. Let us take back what's ours. Starting with now." Filavandrel released his knife never in your wildest dreams could you imagine did you imagine dying with Geralt and a newfound Bard.

"Wait, the Witcher could have killed me, but he didn't. He's different. Like us." Torque was shoved aside by Filavandrel.

"If you must kill me. I am ready. But the Slyivan’s right, don’t call me human."

Hearing Geralt so willing to die, broke your heart into smithereens as you stared down in your lap to prevent anyone from the tears that escaped your eyes. You didn't need to look at Geralt to know he was currently staring at the blade. Waiting anxiously for your fate, in a way you were almost glad that Filavandrel had decided to kill you all. It was better than dealing with Geralt afterwards.

One.

Two

Three.

Thud.