#also you better not come in here and say that roach is geralts favorite

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

It Was You All Along (Part 7)

Author’s note: So that wasn’t much of a break, but I couldn’t resist! Here is the next installment of the series, featuring a meme I made myself to reflect the vibes of the first half of this part! And yes, it is supposed to be that pixely. It adds spice. Also, I tried to be as vague as possible describing reader’s outfit towards the end so that you could imagine it the way you wanted! As always, feedback is appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy! Link to my ask box! 

Tags: @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods @blackjay04 @weaselbee04​ @bravelittlesunflower​ @mxsmwndr​ 

A voice called for me, but I didn’t quite process it. I was too busy trying to fix this gigantic, gaping hole in Geralt’s trousers. Melitele knows if I don’t do it, he would just walk around with it decorating his attire. 

The voice called for me again, but this time I ignored it on purpose. If I lost concentration, I would prick myself with the needle...again. And I didn’t really want to turn my fingers into more of a bloody mess than they already were. 

I heard footsteps beside me, but I didn’t realize how close they were until a rush of coldness surrounded my body. Not only coldness, but wetness. A bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on me, causing me to scream and drop what I was doing as I stood up in shock. 

“Julian!” 

His real name still felt unfamiliar on my lips. I had taken to calling him that every so often, usually when I was angry with him, or when I was messing with him. It was for that reason, I think, that he froze so suddenly when I spoke. He wasn’t used to it either, even though he was the one that suggested I start using it more. 

The bucket made a small thump sound as it hit the ground beneath us, and Jaskier raised his hands up in an apology. But he also backed away like a scared animal. I almost felt bad for him. Almost, but not quite. 

“Now, (Y/N)...I was just trying to get your attention is all. It’s quite important, you see.”

I gathered my skirts in my hands and stomped towards him, scowling and shivering the whole way. 

“What could possibly be so important that you couldn’t wait until I was finished? And what made you think dumping cold water on me was a good idea?”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I starting running towards him, my clothes making a sloshing noise against my skin. A string of curse words left his mouth as he took off trying to get away from me. He could be quite fast when he wanted to be. But no way was I going to let him get away from me that easily. 

As soon as he picked up speed, so did I. He wove through the trees surrounding our campsite, going in between them like a maze. Eventually we made it back to where we started. My spot was near a tree and the pants I had been working on were visibly in a bunch on the ground. But behind that was the river that I’m assuming the idiot got the water in the first place. I wonder if I could lead him back there... and “accidentally” knock him in.

As luck would have it, I didn’t even have to put that thought into action. He had made his way to the edge of the river, and turned quickly on his heel trying to run away from me again. But he slipped on the muddy bank, and fell right into the water himself. 

Coming to a stop, a sharp laugh came from my chest suddenly. And I laughed even harder when he bobbed above the surface, hair sticking to his forehead and his fancy doublet soaked. 

“That’s what you get!” I yelled to him between bouts of laughter. 

While Jaskier pulled himself out of the water unceremoniously, I heard more footsteps behind me followed by a thud. Geralt must be back. Only one man I know could walk and sit down that heavily. 

I turned towards the sound, and sure enough, Geralt was sitting down on the log he had claimed as his earlier. He took one look at me and one look at Jaskier who was now standing on the bank of the river, shivering like his life depended on it. 

“I don’t even want to know,” said Geralt with a twitch of his eyebrow and a roll of his eyes. 

~

Night had fallen now. I couldn’t help but reflect on the past few months since that attack at our camp. Things had been pretty boring since then honestly. But I guess I couldn’t complain. Being bored was better than being in danger. 

Geralt was asleep and snoring at an unholy volume. This of course caused a glance between Jaskier and I, and sent us into a fit of silent laughter together. The kind of laughter that had your stomach hurting and your mouth open with no sound. The kind that had you grabbing onto your friend for dear life. Which is precisely what the two of us were doing right now. I had such a grip on Jaskier’s arm, I thought he surely must be in pain. But if he was, he made no mention of it and kept laughing with me. 

However much time had passed, it seemed to only be a few minutes. And I still had my hand on his arm, although my grip definitely lessened. He didn’t notice this either, and simply looked into the dying flames with dried tears from his laughter on his cheeks. My gaze lingered a moment too long on his cheeks, and I began to think about how gentle his eyelashes looked against his skin as he blinked. 

Heat rose in my cheeks and I silently withdrew my hand from his arm. This seemed to catch his attention though. 

“Composed yourself now? Don’t need to steady yourself from anymore laughter?”

There was a glint in his eye as he asked me the questions. I had to keep from smiling. 

“That depends. Got any jokes?”

He stood suddenly and rested a hand on his chin, making it seem like he was deep in thought. 

“You look as if you are composing a new song, Julian.”

“I’m a musician, my dear, I am always composing.” 

He paced around the fire, which was even lower than before. The way he took everything so seriously was something that entertained me, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself because of it. 

Suddenly, he opened his mouth in a silent “Aha!”

“(Y/N), why must you never use a broken pen?”

I paused for a moment and scrunched my face in thought, trying to come up with an answer. But before I could, he delivered the punch line. 

“It’s pointless, darling.”

I snorted at the same time Geralt groaned. The fucker was awake. 

Jaskier almost jumped out of his boots at the sudden noise, which only caused me to laugh again. The pain in my stomach from earlier was back, but I couldn’t keep from laughing. 

“Have you been awake this whole time, Geralt?” Jaskier yelled in surprise. 

“Long enough. Don’t you have anything better to do? Like sleep?”

Jaskier open and closed his mouth a few times before settling on a simple, “Right,” in response. He then took his spot a few feet away from Geralt and laid down for the night. 

“Goodnight, Geralt.” Jaskier said with a stifled yawn.

Geralt simply grunted in return, rolling over so his back was facing Jaskier. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Jaskier called in my direction. 

“Goodnight, Jaskier. And goodnight Geralt!” 

“Hmph,” was all I got in response. 

There was a silence over our camp now. But it was too quiet. The kind of quiet that felt like it would be broken at any moment now. Jaskier’s voice was what broke it, of course.

“Goodnight, Roach.”

“Oh, yeah! Goodnight, Roach and Lily!” I called out excitedly. 

“How could I forget Lily? Goodnight, Lily!” Jaskier parroted. 

“Oh, for the love of-” Geralt groaned loudly, sitting up and gathering his things. He promptly moved farther and farther away from us, settling on a spot under the cover of darkness in the trees. 

I snickered to myself as I got my things ready to lay down. Annoying Geralt had become one of our favorite things to do together over the past few months. 

It became silent again, and I could hear Jaskier’s even breathing now, signalling that he was asleep. I had the feeling I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Call it instinct, I guess. 

I laid down on my back and stared up at the sky. Jaskier and I were closer than ever, and it was so nice. But I needed more. I craved more. They say time heals all wounds, but my heart was still shattered after all these months had gone by. I was still so in love with my best friend that it hurt. Even more than it did before. 

Jaskier had been acting differently lately though. He called me more nicknames, and he was even more of a flamboyant disaster than when I first met him. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him with any random women in bars or taverns anymore. Could he-? No. No way. I must be out of my mind. 

My fingers instinctively went to the dagger Geralt had given me a while ago. Sometimes I would run my hands along the inscription, trying to remind myself to be brave like it said. I could almost laugh at myself right now. I was being anything but brave when it came to Jaskier. 

“Could you please calm your nerves down? I can feel them from over here,” a gruff voice said in the distance. Geralt. Of course.

“Sorry to disturb you. Maybe you should move to another new spot, even farther away. Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How is Yennefer?”

I didn’t have to have Witcher senses to feel how that comment landed. 

~

Morning came much more quickly than I was hoping it would. It meant today was the day we had to get moving, which meant we would be moving closer to the situation I had been trying to avoid thinking about. The ball. 

I seemed to be the last one awake, and I could feel the energy as soon as I had rubbed the sleepiness from my reluctant eyes. Geralt sad brooding in the corner of our camp, and Jaskier was flitting about getting everyone’s things together. It was easy to see who was excited and who was not. 

“Today is the day, you sad sack of...sadness,” Jaskier vocalized in regards to Geralt. 

“I know. Don’t remind me.”

I almost laughed as I sat up from my spot on the ground. Geralt wasn’t looking forward to this, and truth be told, I wasn’t either. At least part of me wasn’t. The other part couldn’t help being excited in a childlike way. I had never been in a castle before, let alone a ballroom. Although I couldn’t help but feel like I would be out of place, and painfully so. 

“Don’t look so excited, Geralt.” 

“You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened at the last one.”

I winced and realized that he was right. Although Jaskier had told me some of what happened, I was almost certain that he watered down the events of Pavetta’s betrothal ball in doing so. 

The man in question turned to look at me, apparently just now realizing I was awake. 

“There you are! Come on, we are losing daylight!”

“Jaskier, do I even really need to come? Geralt is only going to be your body guard, so I don’t really have a purpose.”

“Don’t be silly. You must come! We couldn’t just leave you by yourself for hours at a time. These things do tend to take a while.”

I rolled my eyes and stood, stretching as I did so. 

“I am a grown up, you know. I can take care of myself. Afraid I might get kidnapped?” 

Jaskier scoffed and continued packing, mostly ignoring my comment. But it was true, I could take care of myself. Geralt had taught me some things with the dagger over the past few weeks, and I felt confident in my abilities. 

“Well if I must go, at least be careful with my dress and things. I’m sure Yennefer paid good money for them.” 

“The witch probably stole them, more like.”

I watched as Jaskier carefully started packing my things, and tried not to cackle when Geralt made a comment about shoving his foot somewhere it didn’t belong in reference to Jaskier. 

Today was going to be quite...something. 

~

Since we had done most of the travelling yesterday, what was left for today didn’t take long. We made it to the castle in no time it seemed. 

Lily and Roach were tied up in the stables, in the same stall actually. I was quite happy that the stable master was willing to do that. They always seemed to enjoy each other’s company. 

I sat in my borrowed room getting ready, and I was assuming that Geralt and Jaskier were in their own rooms doing the same thing. But that thought was at the back of my mind now as I looked at myself in the mirror. Or at least, what I think was myself. I didn’t really recognize the woman staring back at me. 

Yennefer had picked out the most beautiful, elegant, and intricate floor-length ballgown I could ever imagine. It was sleeved as well, with lace adorning them to match the bodice. The skirt was made of layers on layers, it seemed, and with every move I made it swished gently to follow. It was even in my favorite color. I wonder how she knew? I don’t remember telling her...

She had also gotten me some jewelry to match, and the metals and gems complimented my skin tone perfectly. How did she know all this? I had only met her once, and it was very briefly. I would have to thank her for all this later. 

Not long after I had finished getting dressed, jeweled, and made up, a knock sounded at my door. 

“Come in,” I called. 

Jaskier entered in his outfit for the night. It was a dark, silky purple with golden accents along the doublet’s center, and my breath hitched in my throat when I saw him in the reflection of the mirror I sat in front of. 

“You look breathtaking, darling,” he said in a whisper as he approached me. 

Hopefully he didn’t notice the blush creeping up the sides of my neck. I don’t think I would ever get used to his names for me. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Compare that to when you fell into the water yesterday and looked like a dying animal, you basically are a different person.”

Jaskier feigned anger, but I could tell he was amused. 

“Do you like your clothes? I made sure to tell Yennefer all your favorite colors and shiny things.”

My heart skipped a beat. He had told her all of that? I didn’t even know that he knew those things about me.

I stood before really thinking about what I was doing, and turned to face him, the shock evident on my face.

“You told her all that? I didn’t know that you knew such trivial facts about me...Thank you.”

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Of course I know. And it was no problem. I had to make sure she didn’t dress you in an unflattering way.”

I tilted my head in thought, almost as a reflex, and it caught his attention. 

“What are you thinking about, (Y/N)?” Jaskier asked me quietly with a crooked smile. 

“I seem to be thinking about everything and nothing at once...but I am mostly wondering how you convinced the people hosting this ball to let me in. Geralt is your security, of course, I get that. But how did you get me in? I’m no one special.”

He was silent for a moment and stared at a spot past me, for almost so long I didn’t think he would reply. But then he did, with an odd look on his face that showed happiness and some other emotion I didn’t recognize. 

“I told them you were my muse. A musician cannot perform without their muse.”

My mouth twitched as if to fall open in shock. but I didn’t let it. I didn’t want him to see how this affected me.

“I’m your what?”

“My muse. You know, inspiration?”

I shook my head furiously, matching the speed at which my heart was beating.

“I know what it means. But why did you tell them that? You couldn’t have come up with a better excuse to get me in here? You didn’t have to lie to them.” 

You couldn’t have come up with a better excuse in order to keep me from getting my hopes up?

He looked at me with a smile. But it was a pained smile. Then for a second, it looked like he might speak. Until Geralt passed by the open door way and told Jaskier it was time to go. The crowd was waiting on him. 

I stood frozen in the same spot I had been in, and I watched them leave. First Geralt, then Jaskier following behind him. At the last second before leaving the doorway, he stopped, placing a hand on the frame. 

Finally he turned to me, and looking over his shoulder, he simply said:

“I didn’t lie.” 

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Drink Up - Geralt of Rivia x reader

Summary: Traveling for hours on end can become exceptionally loathsome, but with a bottle of something strong to pass the time, things get very interesting indeed.

Warning: reader and Jaskier talking about sexy times, reader getting drunk and things get entertaining, the trio being goofs tbh

-reader is part of my Geralt series (Of Monsters And Men)

Masterlist

With not a whole lot of entertainment sprouting forth from the nearby scenery of the continent most days, or by the unfortunate lack of abundant random wanderers to cross your path. You’ve become accustomed to imploring very creative ways in amusing yourself while wayfaring the roads with your two favorite traveling buddies.

A Witcher, to handsome for his own good, and a lovely yet mildly annoying bard.

You’ve been currently hiking on this forest trail for half the day without much to pass the time. Sure Jaskier has delved into giving you all a show with his ballots and fantastic lute playing skills. But there’s only so much of that angelic voice you can take before it turns into the most goddamn irritating thing you’ve ever heard.

Also you’re pretty damn certain that Geralt could have been one more strum away from knocking the bard out cold, thus pleading for you to leave him there for the next unlucky fellow who decides to wander by.

The sun on the other hand keeps her great golden colors beaming across the landscape, warming the earth to a comfortable temperature on this calm spring afternoon. It’s been a good hour since anything interesting has happened and this stick you keep flipping around in your hand is not cutting it.

Pressing onward, your mind suddenly sparks with an idea, surly an idea that will stir up some much needed conversation on this rather dull trip though the peaceful woodland. Smirking to yourself, you glance to your right where Jaskier is walking with lute in hand, oblivious to your growing mischievousness.

Then your crimson gaze trails a small distance ahead where Geralt sits atop of Roach, his snowy head faced forward as he relishes in the quiet of the green woodland. Gods he looks like a proper knight, with that dark armor, sword on his back, and all that manliness seated atop his grand stead. Hmm, delicious.

Casually twirling your stick here and there, you turn your attention over to Jaskier who’s looking away from you, “Psst...Jaskier.” You whisper, making sure Geralt can’t hear.

The bards head snaps over to you in an instant, a new intrigued curiosity overtaking him, “Yes?” He whispers back just as quietly, blues darting over to Geralt who’s none the wiser.

You casually shrug, using your normal speaking voice now, “Just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten your name.”

His face falls, “Y/N.” He whines disappointedly, “Come on I’m bored as shit.” Complains Jaskier like a whiny little toddler before he huffs and pauses for a moment to think. Suddenly he taps the side of your bicep with the back of his hand, you raise a curious brow as he shrugs, “You got any good stories?”

Searching your extensive past of palpable events for a moment, your face quickly lights up, “Ohhh better then a story. Get a load of this shit.” You muse while pulling out a bottle of wine from your traveling pack, “Stole this from some pricy vendor. Figured it’d have some purpose sooner or later and right now I need it sooner.” You chuckle while popping off the spongy cork and taking a hearty swig.

Jaskier lets out a breathy laugh as he watches you fully enjoy your stolen beverage, “Not sure if I should be impressed or concerned.”

“Don’t worry I’ll share but only if you indulge me.” You quip before taking another gulp before bringing the bottle to your side, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before speaking, “I have a question for you my dear lover boy.” You inquire with a wiggle of your brows.

Jaskier smirks, ready for the challenge and some wine, “Ask away.”

Whipping your stick around, you point it at the bard, “Okay. And be honest, I can tell if you’re not.....what’s the best part of a woman?”

Jaskier nods, his face shifting into one of legitimate deep thought as he takes a considerable amount of time to contemplate the possibilities, “Well, I guess I’d say I’m decently fond of a good smile,” Admits the bard before he lets out a small chuckle, “cause if they don’t have one it’s regretfully difficult to watch them enjoy themselves if you understand my meaning.” Adds Jaskier, nudging your arm with his elbow as you roll your ruby irises.

“Hmm alright well you’re a fucking snooze.” You deadpan as he suddenly lets out a burst of laughter.

“Oh I didn’t realize you wanted all my inner most personal tastes, is that it then?” He wonders as you chuckle at his little half offended outburst.

“Tell me what gets you all hot and bothered and I’ll indulge you in my own appetites.” You add slyly, giving him a mischievous wink while continuing to twirl your stick and sip more of your strong liquor. Damn this stuff is strong.

He nods in understanding, a cheeky smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he decides to indulge you, “Well the lady asks, where to start?” Questions Jaskier.

“Oh I don’t know. Let’s say, personality aside cause we’re not here for that shit right now..” You swat the air theatrically before taking another sip of your drink, “...what do you think? Firm or soft, maybe even a little saggy?” You suggest, making a squeezing motion with your one hand while your stick is tucked underneath that arm.

“I’d say both. A breast is a breast.” He confirms Jaskier with a laugh.

“A man of all dishes served I see. I respect the inclusion of diverse variety.” You add with an honest nod of approval. “Alright. Are scars a turn off if severe?”

“Taverns are dark for a reason Y/N.” Muses Jaskier with a knowing look causing you to snort with laughter.

“Fair point.” You wheeze.

“Okay Y/N/N, my turn.” Inquires Jaskier as you hand him the liquor.

“Lets hear it.”

He gives you back your bottle, “So....what’s so intriguing about that old grumpy wolf up there?” Questions Jaskier as he nods towards Geralt who’s minding his sweet business from his perch on Roach. No doubt probably listening.

Biting your lip, your eyes linger on the broad leathered back of your silver haired lover, “Are we talking physically or personality wise?” You wonder while turning your attention back to the bard, your voice lowering a couple octaves, “cause let me tell you he’s not much for words most times...” You lean in closer to Jaskier before whispering, “but I can get him moaning so goddamn fast.”

“Oh gods. Please tell me everything.” Presses Jaskier with a laugh as you take another sip from the bottle. Shit, you’re already feeling buzzed, guess it is much stronger then once previously thought.

Giving Jaskier a fangy smirk, you point the stick in Geralt’s general direction, “You asked so you’ve been warned. This man can come absolutely undone within minutes, literally all I gotta do is call him some cute names and lick his cheek...you know, feel him up a bit. Get him feeling all loved and appreciated you know?”

“Really?” Inquires Jaskier, enjoying your progressively drunken shpeel of personal info regarding yours and Geralt’s sex lives.

“Oh fuck yeah, but what really gets him off, is if I undress in front of him and then get all dominant and rough you know. He loves that shit.” You explain with a smile as Jaskier stares at you in awe. “He’s a moaning mess after I put on the charm, practically cumming at my command. The fucking power I have.” You mumble proudly with a shake of your bottle, though you try and keep your voice down.

“Y/N, you are, quit the woman.” Points Jaskier like a proud father watching his daughter marry to a prestigious lord of great wealth.

“I know.” You add with a shrug, clearly self confident and half drunk by now, “I’m a seductress what can I say?” Taking a moment to drink some more wine as Jaskier holds in his laughter.

He watches you trip on nothing before regaining your bearings a second later, “So uh, how you feeling?”

You give him a fangy grin, raising your bottle in salute, “Fantastic.”

“That’s good.” He muses, clearly not believing you, “How’s the wine?”

“Delectable and worth every coin!” You whisper yell, raising your bottle once more, the dwindling contents swirl around, some drops falling out as you bring the glass back down to your side.

“I thought you stole it?”

You snort, “I did.”

“Hmm alright, maybe uh....maybe slow it down on the intake Y/N?” Says Jaskier, taking notice of your new inebriated state and knowing all to well what you’re like when fully drunk of your ass.

“Fuck off bard I’m fine.” You mutter with an elated snicker before starting to giggle like a drunken jester in a kings court, causing Geralt to turn his head to the side in interest before shrugging and looking down the trail once again.

“You sure?” Half worries Jaskier, though in truth he’s absolutely living for the situation unfolding in front of him, “I’d rather not have you puking later.”

Scoffing you take another sip, “I’m not getting sick Jaskrr, I’m just horny.”

Brows raised in surprise, he coughs, “Oh, that’s um...good....I think?”

Almost tripping over a jutted out root, you bite your lip while eyeing up Geralt hungrily, “Now that....is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and you know what?”

“What should I know?” Wonders Jaskier with interest, making no faults to decrease how he’s clearly egging you on.

Grinning with a face full of mischief, you snicker, “Well....I can say I’ve seen his dick.” The bards eyes widen in amusement as you continue, “Which is...by the way....very lovely and large, he knows how to please a woman if you know what I mean.” You mumble quickly with a wink as Jaskier snorts.

“Oh, that’s good to know. What else is nice about him?” He agrees while successfully baiting you on further.

“Hmm mhmmm. Big muscles, Jask, big muscles.” You emphasize while leaning into the bards side and squeezing his less then impressive biceps, “Oh and he’s so good at hugging and cuddles.” You squeak with joy, shaking Jaskier as you swoon over Geralt, “Ugh, I love it when he’s shirtless and he looks at me and I just....ugh I’ll take my pants off so goddamn fast.”

Shoving his face into the crook of his arm to keep from laughing, Jaskier does all in his power to refrain from losing it while you lean away, stumbling around on the trail, oblivious to how hilarious he’s taking everything you just confessed to him. The biggest lovestruck grin dancing across your features as you stare longingly at Geralt’s leather clad back. A flash of lust rising in your smiling expression as you eye him up.

“I want.” You mutter, throwing your stick to the side as you make a childlike grabby motion with your hand.

“Y/N he’s on a horse.” Explains Jaskier as you make a face.

You scoff, sending Jaskier another dirty look, “You don’t understand.”

“Y/N it’s the middle of the day and we’re in an unknown forest.” Warns the bard, “Not exactly the time or place for whatever is brewing in your head.”

“Nuthin’s brwing in me head Jask.” You slur, tripping once again before just barely catching yourself.

Jaskier gives you a less then convinced expression, seeing straight though your terrible lying, “I don’t believe you.” He says while you frown.

“But he looks so delicious.” You whine with a dramatic pout, “And I’m so fecking horns right noww ‘cause of....wull, I just’am!” You grumble, turning your head to face Jaskier with an angry little frown before a mischievous smile begins to form upon your lips.

Jaskier blinks, knowing all to well what drunk you is capable of, “Y/N. Don’t you dare.” He warns.

“Waterr you gonna do bart?” You challenge, pushing him though its a weak assault that does nothing significant, “Fight me? I’ll kick your little pixie ass.”

Shaking his head, Jaskier takes a cautious step away from you, “Definitely not. Actually you know what? He’s all yours, go get him Y/N.” Urges Jaskier, really anticipating the possible beautiful disaster that may just soon enough present itself.

Raising your brows in pleasant surprise, you down the rest of your bottle, “Ha! Yu’r not as stupi’s ass’he says yur. I knews it. All along, nev’r a doubt in my mind really.....I sw’r it........promise.” You slur, the alcohols affects really starting to delve into your system.

Jaskier’s brows furrow in confusion, not one hundred percent sure how he should take that, “Well, that’s good I suppose.”

“Yes.........it is....... isn’t it.” You agree with a couple quick nods that look like a small child who’s trying desperately to get their parent to agree with them, “Okay, I’m go’in ta get h’em ov’tha house now.” You pause a moment, brows furrowing in thought as you grab Jaskier by the shoulder, “Horse. That’s uh, what I mean.....yeah.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to say something but you’re already stumbling quickly down the beaten trail much faster then he’d anticipated. You zero in on Geralt’s fine leather armored back, your vision slightly blurred and your legs a bit wobbly from the strong alcohol you’ve managed to make empty in less then ten minutes.

Shaking the fuzziness from your head, you drop the empty bottle in the dirt before hustling to Geralt’s side. Stopping quickly, halting a moment to gather yourself before walking onward, continuing side by side next to his feet and Roach’s middle.

Geralt hums before casually turning his head to find your beaming face with the dark of your eyes as big as a ceramic plate. Raising a brow, the Witcher throws Jaskier an odd look before shifting his attention back down to you.

“Y/N?” He mutters, not sure if you’ve eaten something you shouldn’t have or were recently hexed by some random fairy nearby. 

Letting out a little burp, you hold your hands close to your chest all the while giving him the biggest smile, “I’m....in’loe....v..uh, love....with’u.”

Geralt let’s out a humored snort at your intoxicated self while you await his answer to your grand declaration of love that he was indeed able to understand, “Sorry, I’m taken.” He quips, obviously teasing you though you’re to drunk to realize this.

Frowning you look at the ground in disappointment, “oh.” You whisper sadly causing Geralt to legitimately feel bad until your whole demeanor shifts to heated aggression, “That fucking bitch!” You shout coherently through a small slurred wavering in your angered voice, scaring some perched crows from their keep as well as a couple of innocent rabbits.

Geralt listens to the muffled laughter of Jaskier as you throw your hands up in aspiration before letting out a colorful stream of curses, “No good dirty whore faced dog shit horse shit bitch who’s clamed h’em ferr the’own!”

“Do’snt mak’any sense! I have a sw’urd! I can run....really fast! I’m half vampurrr goddammit!” You shout into the woods, struggling to keep your words together, “I’m pre-destinated...pre-dun.....pre-dragons....destiny, de-destined to be seductive! I am sexy!” You shout dramatically.

“Okay, Y/N let’s not wake something or someone with ill intentions.” Interrupts Geralt as you make two frustrated fists, your face appearing rather angered, crimson eyes dancing with hellfire.

“No!” You snap before turning an accusing dagger up at him, where you got that he’s not sure, “Tell me..who’s this-this donkey wumunnn! So I can...grrr....so I can uh, so I can...” Quickly looking down, you struggle to put away your dagger back into it’s designated sheath, you frown once again before shifting your face into a fake, yet rather convincing smile, “I just’uv sum’thins to say to’er. Thas’all. Promise.” You add sweetly, grin as shiny as a barrel of shimmering pearls and honestly a bit sadistic if he didn’t know any better.

Chuckling at your adorable drunken antics, Geralt shrugs, “She’s from a far away land. About a couple leagues from here northwest.”

“Wha’else.” You demand urgently, tone authoritative and hostile.

“She’s pretty tough, and very beautiful.” Teases Geralt as you scowl in irritation for this unidentifiable cunt who’s taken your man.

“Disgustin.” You scoff, flicking a hand upward as you mutter, “Go’un.”

“She’s got the most lovely body I’ve ever seen, and her laugh is more angelic then all the greatest singers in the entire continent.” He confirms with a handsome smile that would have you swooning like a fair maiden if not for how filled with hatred you are right now. 

“Blah.” You dismiss while sticking out your tongue in disgust, “Com’un giv’m a name. Then I’ll handle the’rst.”

“I don’t want you to hurt her.” He mutters with a shrug, holding back laughter at your amusing facial features.

“I won’t.” You sass, making a face before mumbling, “Jus’wanna talk....re’memr.”

“I don’t think I believe you Y/N.” Affirms the handsome Witcher much to your frustration.

“I jus’wanna fucking talk!” You growl as Jaskier cackles in the background, clearly enjoying this conversation though you can’t understand what’s so funny.

Snapping your head in his direction, you squint your eyes at him menacingly before yanking off a hanging thin branch and launching your new makeshift weapon full force in his general direction. He yelps in surprise before ducking, the wooden assault just missing his face by mere inches.

“Dear gods Y/N!” Gasps the bard with wide eyes as you snicker at his dramatic reaction.

“Fuck’ov h’was gonna tell me!”

“No he wasn’t!” Argues Jaskier while fearfully clutching his lute to his chest, afraid you might start swinging.

“H’was and I’m gonna fuck’n kill that bitch!” You snap angrily as Roach snorts, having not a single iota what the hell you’re saying. Only that you sound like some wounded beast on their last hour.

Rolling his baby blues in annoyance, Jaskier shouts back, “There is no other woman or man or any fucking forest nymph that Geralt has any sort of eyes for! You-you crazy woman!”

“How’u know? He doesn’t tell you shit!” You yell back, emphasizing the last word with some heat.

“He does! For your humbled information.” Protests Jaskier sassily while Geralt silently listens to you two idiots scream at one another in the middle of some large lumbering forest. His drunken lover and his, perhaps he could say it, friend who happens to be a bard.

“Oh really?!” You challenge, “Wel’in who’s this fuck’in cunt who’h said he’s with’en? Huh?!” You shout back.

Jaskier let’s out a stream of incomprehensible mumbles before throwing his hands into the air in frustration, “That’s because this woman is you, you drunken bat!”

“I’mnut drunk! Nor’m I a bat!” You yell, ignoring the fact that he confirmed you’re indeed Geralt’s lover, “I didn’evn drink tha’mush!”

“You drank the whole bloody bottle!” Claims Jaskier, much to your great shock and bewilderment, that Geralt struggles to keep himself from losing it atop of Roach.

 You scoff, clearly not believing a single thing out of this bards mouth, “I dunt see’a bottle!”

“That’s because you threw it somewhere!”

“Wel’wy woulda’ do’tha?” You snap, hands fanned out to each side in puzzlement like an angry castle pigeon standing up to a hulking statue.

“Oh I don’t know...let me think for a brief moment here...oh right! Because you’ve drank more then a king on his wedding night!” Shouts Jaskier as Geralt rolls his golden eyes, moving to jump off of Roach.

Standing oblivious to your Witcher who’s no more then five feet away from you now at ground level, your eyes start to grow darker as your frustration grows in this hazy state you’re in. “Mayb’if I knuck you’ot wit’a lute then’ull shut up!” You slur, taking a threatening step forward.

The bards eyes widen in fear for a moment as he sends Geralt a desperate glance, “Geralt!”

“Y/N.” Mutters Geralt gently in that grumbly voice of his, causing you to immediately turn in his direction.

Eyes softening, you instantly break out into a joyful fangy grin, “Yes.” You mumble happily, eyes shifting from his boots to his face as you shamelessly check him out.

“Come here.” Beckons your beautiful Witcher with a pleasant smile upon his plush lips, his arms soon reach out for yours and quickly enough they intertwine.

You blink back your slightly blurred vision to witness as Geralt’s lips flicker from your mouth to your shimmering irises of ruby red, a second later he pulls you flush against him for a heated embrace. Just want you wanted. 

Your lips move passionately against his own, a delighted smile forming as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue inside your mouth. Then all to soon he pulls away and your lips are left empty and wanting so much more.

Pouting you make an adorably angered face, “Wul’that wasn’t nearly s’long as it coulda been.” You grumble bluntly, suddenly yawning as you try desperately to keep focused on his face. His beautiful face. So pretty, so kissable, so lovely.

Dark spots skip and flare through your fading vision until without warning your legs feel like they’ve turned to pudding, giving out from underneath you in an instant and all you’re able to witness is Geralt’s lovely face before....

Darkness.

���—

Waking up from a deep sleep, your eyes open to the sound of a fire crackling nearby, the sweet smell of grilled leaks wafting into your nostrils that aids in fully awakening your senses. You let out a sleepy yawn, sitting yourself up from your once previous positioning on your rolled out travel sack underneath you.

Sitting criss crossed, you wipe the bleariness from your scarlet irises before sucking in a deep breath and blinking, your sights now set on the campfire in front of you, a beautiful glow of bright oranges and gold. Geralt and Jaskier on either side, both quietly talking to one another before turning to face you. A knowing smile on either of their faces. Oh, Gods what did you do? And how did you even get here?

Shifting your confused gaze from Jaskier to Geralt and back again, you raise a puzzled brow, “Would any of you be kind enough to tell me how the fuck it’s already dark out?”

“What do you mean Y/N? It’s sunny as a summers day.” Confirms Jaskier with an honest smile, blue eyes looking into the fire as he strums a cord on his lute.

Shaking your head, you sniff, “Okay fuck you.”

Jaskier laughs as Geralt lets slip a couple chuckles before explaining, “You drank all of that wine bottle you stole.”

“Shit.” You mutter while rubbing your temples, “Who let me do that?”

“You did.” Adds the bard.

“Did I threaten you? I feel like drunk me was yelling for some reason, my throat kinda feels weird.”

“You were trying to get me to tell you the name of my lover.” Affirms Geralt with a laugh, “Which is obliviously you. Though drunk Y/N thought otherwise.”

“Fantastic.” You deadpan before turning on your side and laying on your back, deciding to relax once again, “So, how’d I get here? I forget after I was telling Jask about...uh, well...doesn’t matter.”

Smiling to himself from the explicit information you slipped to him about yourself and Geralt in the bedroom, Jaskier chuckles at that while Geralt moves to lay down as well, his head close to yours as you both make an L on the ground. “I put a drop of sleeping potion on my tongue and when I kissed you...”

“You gave me tongue and drugged me?” You confirm with a breathy laugh, honestly quit impressed he managed to pull that off so smoothly. Well, then again you were drunk off your ass.

Geralt hums, “It was either that or let you kill Jaskier. It was a tough decision really.”

“What?” Gasps Jaskier, “You had to think about it?”

“And he chose to slip me some enchanted sleeping juice instead. You’re welcome.”

Jaskier scoffs, “Yeah well you wanted to fuck him in the woods so....shut it.”

“We still can,” Mutters Geralt with a smile, face turned a bit so he has a better view of your face, “if you want.”

Smirking back at him, Jaskier almost chokes on his own spit, “I am right here. Right here Geralt. Right here.”

You laugh at the bards dramatics, “We never said you had to watch.”

“Wha-thats besides the point! And just, ugh please don’t....” Whines Jaskier, making a face of disgust before frowning, “or at least just wait for me to fall asleep.”

Laughing, you give the bard an agreeable nod, “Don’t worry we will.”

[fangirleaconmigo]

The Witcher Season 2 Episode 1 Recap and Review: A Grain of Truth

Here be monsters. And your season two Witcher episode recaps from a wordy witcher book fan.

I'll probably do one a day until I've done all the episodes for S2. (Unless there's no interest, in which case I'll quietly drop off and you never heard me say this).

If you have any questions drop a reply or an ask, whatever! And if you like it put an rb on it?

Full disclosure, LONG FUCKING POST I really go in depth,(that's what she said) and there's a section at the end comparing/contrasting the books.

All under the cut because spoilers!

A Grain of Truth

This episode opens with a brutal monster attack. (Very similar to the opening of Nightmare of the Wolf) So right off, The Witcher says, here! Welcome back! Here, take a severed disemboweled torso and come on in! (Don’t mind if I do)

The flying monster is unseen, setting the stage for the central theme of the episode: “Monsters: What Are They Even? How Do I Know If I Am One? Also, My New Dad Kills Monsters. Does This Represent a Conflict of Interest?”

Next, we go to the battlefield post-Sodden. Full disclosure, the battle of Sodden finale was by far my favorite part of Season 1. I just, personally, love a good siege. I love a good battle prep episode, I love all the magic, the different styles of fighting, and mages making a desperate stand to defend humans. I love the bittersweet feeling of heading towards doom for a good cause.

Yes, they changed a lot about the magic from the books, but I don't care because why? Because I think it’s cool and neat to see Yen go ham and shoot fire out of her hands. Fuck yeah.

Ok, back to the current episode. The aftermath is far less cool. War is hell, folks. There are corpses, severed body parts, and moaning half dead people strewn about. Our new daddy Vilgefortz (Mahesh Jadu) is stabbing the wounded. I guess he is afraid they’ll get up to some mischief before they expire in a pool of their own bowel excretions and sad limp intestines. Tissaia (Myanna Buring) is touching the wounded, jumping psychically into their minds in a desperate attempt to locate Yennefer.

(ETA: this ability to read the minds of the recently deceased is actually referenced in the books, though not shown 'on the page'. In Chapter 1 of Blood of Elves after Yen rescues Dandelion, he asks Yen if she should have done so to get info out of the men she killed to rescue him. She says necromancy is forbidden by the chapter, and they probably wouldn't have known much anyway.)

Alright, I’m just gonna tell you right now. For me? Myanna Buring is the MVP in this episode. It is her grief stricken, shell shocked face, more than any of the gore on display, that make me *feel* the post-battle devastation. She looks bereft, and devastated. She is shaky, filthy, and bloody.

Vilgefortz seems in much better spirits, skewering the maimed with his sword like he’s gonna make s'mores with them later, and listing the numbers of the dead. He tells Tissaia just to presume Yennefer is dead. In desperation, she screams for Yennefer where she stands. That part made me tear up every time I watched it. (I rewound and watched it a few times). That’s called bringing the emotional dimension. It’s called ACTING folks, give her all the statues.

Then we hear Geralt (Henry Cavill, obviously) in the distance screaming for Yennefer. He is there too, leading Roach. Ciri (Freya Allen) is atop Roach (Zeus). (Horses deserve credit too, damnit)

I was so excited to see Geralt and Tissaia meet, that for a minute I forgot that I lived in a world where Tissaia is a grief stricken shell of a human being, and Geralt is meeting her across a vista of rotting corpses. But, unfortunately, that’s where we are. Geralt asks Tissaia whether Yennefer is alive. Tissaia doesn’t say that Yennefer is dead, but she looks so devastated and bewildered, that he instantly accepts Yennefer’s death as fact.

Tissaia says they won because of Yennefer. Geralt steps into Tissaia’s face and asks “was it worth it?” Then he walks away, grief, shock, and anger on his face. When Ciri asks him who Yennefer is, he answers that it doesn’t matter, because she’s gone.

From here the episode breaks up into three threads. We see Tissaia dealing with the fallout of the battle. We see Geralt and Ciri on their way to Kaer Morhen, and we find out what happened to Yen.

TISSAIA’S ARC

First, Tissaia’s arc. We go back to a place where they are caring for the wounded. We find out what happened to Triss (Anna Schaffer). She survived, but she is in horrible shape. Vilgefortz, Artorius Vigo (Terence Maynard) and Tissaia use healing magic to help her. Myanna Buring stroking Triss’s hair in that scene did everything for me. She was so harsh with her girls in S1, even essentially murdering several of them to turn them into eels. (I’ll be honest, I’m still baffled by the eels). It took the battle of Sodden to really get her to visibly show her affection for them. And it’s little touches like that, her being soft, there in front of other mages even, to show how broken apart she is, and how much she loves them.

Vilgefortz tells Artorius that his niece was the ringleader of the attack. “She has abandoned all rules of chaos.” He’s like eh...lost cause I guess. Dead to me. Bye. They move on pretty quickly from that, and we learn they have a prisoner that no one has been able to break. Tissaia guarantees she can break him. Artorius says they have rules, implying torture might be considered bad. Vilgefortz backs her up. “She wasn’t asking your permission.”

As I suspected, the prisoner is Cahir. He says Tissaia can torture him, he doesn’t care, because “the white flame will cleanse us all.” (The whole religious zealot thing.) After zapping him a few times with magic, Tissaia walks behind him and gives this chilling little speech:

“Tis not in my nature to be cruel. (Ed Note: We know some eel girls who might have something to say about that) But you have taken someone from me. Someone I care about deeply. So now I will take your knowledge, your memories, your very being, and leave you cold and helpless, trapped in the eternal darkness of your own mind.”

She goes on for a while and this little speech is fucking chilling. Also it accomplishes quite a bit for the story. Thanks to Myanna Buring's powerful acting, it still shows Tissaia’s vulnerability and grief underneath the threat. It drives in deep how much she loves Yen, and how beside herself she is with grief and rage.

(Note: The threats Tissaia makes to fuck up his mind were taken from the book Blood of Elves, but the words were spoken by Philippa Eilhart to some unfortunate soul who thought he could come for Geralt. They repurposed them for Tissaia.)

Their relationship was the highlight for me of S1, so complex, dynamic, and rich. I am so happy to see it being treated as significant here. This speech also sets up an ethical question. Torture in stories usually sets up questions of ‘who is the good guy, how much evil can we do in the course of a cause and not be evil ourselves, etc etc’ so I’m expecting that to be thematic in some way.

YEN AND FRINGILLA’S ARC

We find out that my best girl Yennefer is in dimeritium shackles, having been taken prisoner by Fringilla. They taunt each other a bit, and we learn that Fringilla is in trouble for losing Cintra, and bringing Yennefer in hot (as the Mandalorian would say) is her way of getting back in her leader’s good graces.

Fringilla says Yen is in trouble too for using fire magic. Yen doesn’t seem too worried. Tissaia told her to do it, after all. Yen continues poking at her, trying to find weaknesses. She says this plan won’t save her life and that her leader is just using her as a pawn. She says Fringilla should just come back to the Brotherhood.

Fringilla says that the Brotherhood used them as pawns too. Yen says they were given choices, and Fringilla says they weren’t good choices. (I’m with Fringilla on this one)

That scene made me smile. I love seeing Yen being Yen. Thinking on her feet, looking for the angle, poking, taunting, always a survivor. I am also fascinated by their exchanges. They were two girls from vastly different social strata, shoved into the same cold, calculating, and abusive school. They must have found some support or friendship in each other. But the system pitted them against each other for survival, and they ended up at odds. You wonder who they would have been or what their relationship would have been if they had been allowed to simply be.

But suddenly, they are attacked by an enemy they can’t see. Their soldiers are speared and pulled away from them. (LOOKS FREAKY) Fringilla refuses to unshackle Yennefer (BAD DECISION), and the episode leaves them standing back to back in the forest in the dark with an unknown enemy about to presumably attack them.

GERALT AND CIRI’S ARC

Now for the arc that is most central to this episode. Geralt is taking Ciri to Kaer Morhen. WOOP WOOP KAER MORHEN. I'm basically vibrating with anticipation to see the old keep and meet the witchers. But that isn't until next ep, judging by the titles.

We join them again on their travels as they camp for the night. Geralt is sitting awake. Ciri is sleeping but having nightmares. She went through a thing or two last season, and her nightmares are also in the books. I am glad they kept that, because I always appreciate when they show at least some of the emotional effects of trauma. (fic writers can’t do it all, damnit).

Ciri wakes up, and Geralt shares that he also has nightmares. He makes her feel comfortable enough to share hers. Her nightmares are about Cintra burning, as well as the Black Knight, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach (Eamon Farren), the Nilfgaardian zealot who killed Eist in battle, killed Mousesack to have the doppler take his form (RIP Mousesack, you deserved better, buddy), and kidnapped her. Yeah, that would give you nightmares.

Then they have some exposition where they clarify what the law of surprise is and why Geralt claimed it. Geralt says something that really touched me. When he explains the law of surprise, he reassures her that her father didn’t know what he was giving up. Geralt, a man with an abandonment complex the size of the empire state building, felt the need to make sure she didn’t feel the same. He reassures her that her father would have never given her up on purpose. Ugh that really got me in my heart.

In this conversation they also establish why Ciri is choosing to stay with Geralt. He tells Ciri that if she goes back to her people in Skellige, she’ll be married off against her will to someone who would want her for her throne. She’s not down with that.

The next day, they give more exposition. It is mostly context for the premise of bigotry against witchers, and for Geralt’s origin story. He says that Kaer Morhen is his home. Ciri has never heard of it, which underlines the message that it is a mysterious place. The witchers keep it secret because there was a genocidal attack when Geralt was a little boy that almost wiped them all out.

Ciri asks “Were you attacked because you were different?”

After a long pause, Geralt replies. “Sure.” That didn’t feel like a yes. Which....I have a lot of feelings about that. To me it should be 100% a yes if you’ve read the books. Maybe he hasn’t read the books. Then he essentially changes the subject by saying “we can’t see the future like you can.” That didn’t answer her question.

Then Roach, being the goodest girl that she is, senses something in their surroundings is amiss. They come across a mansion that looks pretty creepy, and a beast jumps out and attacks Geralt. (the short story the episode is based on is a retelling of Beauty and the Beast). After a bit of suspense, Geralt recognizes him as an old friend called Nivellen (Kristofer Hivju) who only looks like a beast because of a curse (like Duny last season).

They go inside and hey there’s food and a bath! But everything still feels creepy! The house is creepy! The guy feels like he’s hiding something!

When Ciri is in the bath, we hear scratching and pattering in the ceiling and see a creepy pair of eyes. (Run, Ciri! Geralt, do something goddamnit) Ciri doesn’t see the eyes, she just hears the noise and the beautiful dress laid out for her. She wears it to dinner, in more shades of Beauty and the Beast.

At dinner, Nivellen reminisces about meeting Geralt, calling him a softy. (Which. Trufax.) Then Geralt asks for the true reason for his being cursed.

He says he fell in with a bad crowd, was high on mushrooms and trashed a temple. Geralt says, “all the mushrooms in the world wouldn’t make anyone that stupid." This line is important, I’ll explain later.

Then Nivellen says after the damage was done, a priestess cursed him. She screamed something about love and blood. Nivellen says he has tried to end his own life several times, but he keeps coming back to life. He is doomed to live like that.

Then Geralt asks why the town is abandoned. This harkens back to the first scene where the merchant and his family walked into an abandoned town and were attacked by a flying monster..

Nivellen claims The Wild Hunt has been sighted, and that has driven people away. (The Wild Hunt, besides being a very cool name, is a group of spectral riders that gallop across the sky. They are regarded as a dark omen and they kidnap souls to join them.)

Ciri calls them “The Wraiths of Morhogg”, which is what they call them in Skellige. She says her grandfather saw them just before Cintra fell. Geralt gets a look and says “Your grandfather was a drunk” (harsh thing to say to a girl who just lost grandfather and is still grieving and having nightmares about it, but ok, Geralt my boy).

Nivellen is like...anywayyyyyy I’m just saying, it might be the end of days. Geralt calls that horseshit. There is more scratching in the ceiling. And Nivellen claims it is a cat named Verenna.

IT AIN’T A CAT, NIVELLEN. Neither Ciri nor Geralt buy it. Geralt decides to scope out the property.

We go back to Nivellen, he is in Ciri’s room telling her about a tragic fairy tale, The Fall of the Elders. This is important lore building that will become more significant later on as we find out more about Ciri’s powers. However, it’s just creeping me out that he’s in her room. I just don’t trust him.

We cut to Geralt outside talking to Roach. I love the Roach chats we have. Geralt is lamenting that Ciri is always endangering herself by not listening and by being rash or foolish and he worries about her. He worries about his ability to keep her safe.

Then we cut back to Nivellen and Ciri (Eds Note: Get away from her! Get a job!)

Ciri asks what it is like being alone because of what you are. You get the idea that she is worried about herself. She is worried that she is monstrous. Nivellen says loneliness eats him alive, so, he isn’t super comforting.

Ciri tells him that her father was cured by true love. Nivellen said he can’t be because he isn’t worthy. He says he killed all his staff when he was turned. Ciri reassures him that since he didn’t mean to kill them, he isn’t a monster. This harkens back to when Ciri killed all of those men who were attacking her. (To be fair, Ciri, fuck them).

Ciri reassures him that she has seen monsters (the humans who burned her family) and he isn’t a monster. Again, it’s the theme of, it’s your actions that makes you monstrous. Not your appearance or species.

Geralt is still outside, brooding in the snow. I wasn’t clear on why he was out there, given that he knows the danger is actually inside the house (the ceiling more specifically). But then Roach gets spooked, and catches his attention. (Twice now Roach has alerted him to something dodgy. That’s called being a good friend. Give that girl a carrot. Or apple. Whatever such good girls eat.)

Geralt goes inside and challenges Nivellen to a game. He suggests they throw knives at the portrait of Nivellen’s father (legit), and every time someone misses, they have to tell the truth.

Seems like he’s trying to get the truth out of Nivellen about what he is hiding. HOWEVER, Geralt keeps missing, which is WEIRD and we all know it. My man should have perfect aim.

But we get more exposition every time he misses and has to tell a truth. (there is no dare in this version, just the truth bit. Geralt and Nivellen won’t be streaking across the yard, toilet papering anyone’s house, or making out) He explains how he came to have Ciri, and says his only plan so far is to keep her alive. So there isn’t any overarching strategy yet. He doesn’t seem to know about her powers. I don’t know why I assumed he would know by now.

Nivellen asks what has changed him enough to care about a child, and Geralt says it was Yennefer of Vengerberg. It is a very unsatisfying answer for me narratively, but I know we need to get the romantic lines in for the trailers. He says Yen died a few days ago and Nivellen seems shocked by his stoic appearance.

“How are you not heartbroken?”

“Who says I’m not?”

At this point, Tissaia is carrying all the visible emotional weight for grieving Yennefer. Geralt has a child to take care of.

Then Nivellen beastsplains to Geralt what a witcher is (thanks Nivellen?) and he asks whether Ciri knows how awful all that witcher shit is. Geralt promises he won’t put Ciri through any trials. (obviously, does my man look like he would torture and kill a child? Look at his innocent egg yolk eyes. God, Nivellen, what the fuck is wrong with you?) I jest, but yeah, that is a really important part of the narrative. Geralt avoided taking her from Calanthe to begin with, because he would never do that to a child. HIS HEART IS BIG AND SQUISHY BEHIND HIS COOL BLACK LEATHER TITTY ARMOR OK.

Geralt says that Nivellen is cheating with magic knives. (We all knew something was amiss. Mr. Hapless Betusked Creep can’t throw knives better than Geralt of gatdamn Rivia). Geralt asks what he is hiding. Nivellen refuses to open up.

Now we go back to Ciri. The creepy eyes come down, revealing themselves to be on the face of an even creepier woman (Agnes Born). VERY COOL AND VERY CREEPY She talks to Ciri, claiming to be ‘different’, but saying that Ciri is different too. Vereena asks why she travels with Geralt. She says he ‘kills’ monsters.

This creepy chick just dropped down out of the ceiling and decided to be a manipulative little shit, trying to pit Ciri against Geralt. Maybe she thinks if she manipulates her enough, she’ll be able to deputize her in the “protect her against Geralt” club. FAT CHANCE, LADY.

We go back to Geralt. He still doesn’t feel Ciri is safe, and he is nothing if not a protector. So he is roaming the grounds again. He comes upon the dead (parts of) bodies from the opening scene. He looks at them, and puts it all together. He runs in and wakes Ciri, saying there is a bruxa in the house. For the uninitiated, a bruxa is a class of female vampire. They are incredibly powerful, crafty, and hard to kill. They also kill people and drink their blood.

I mean, vampires have to drink blood to live. But we still don’t endorse tearing innocent people limb from limb. It’s just rude. Also, there have been many shows and movies that have led me to believe vampires CAN survive on pigs or rat blood, so, that's always going to be ethically preferable.

Either way, Geralt cannot stand by and let a bruxa slaughter people wholesale. (Or even partialsale) Why? He’s a hero. Fuck yeah.

Geralt then takes his potions, and doesn’t explain to Ciri what’s happening. So when he transforms, he looks ‘monstrous’ and scares the shit out of her. Again, the show is trying to make us nervous that Ciri will bolt, stop trusting Geralt, etc etc. He tells her to go chill with Roach. (So far in the episode, Roach has been a good listener, a danger warning system, and a babysitter. Roach is the best.)

THEN, fuck yeah, monster fight scene. Geralt walks through the halls, ready to rumble. He comes upon Vereena feeding off of Nivellen. He doesn’t seem like a prize to me, but she is just gobbling him up, sounding like she’s experiencing the longest lasting orgasm of her life.

Get her Geralt!

Geralt gets her. She does the fucked up bruxa scream and slams him against a wall. They fight. He uses aard. (He’s already using his signs a lot more this season) She slams into the snow outside where Ciri is supposed to be standing next to Roach, but being the tender hearted girl she is, she runs to Vereena to check on her.

Vereena puts on a sad voice and is like “he hurt me.” (Oh, fuck you, girl. Shut the fuck up. Nobody is buying it.)

Geralt runs out and tells Ciri to go back to Roach. Ciri runs back to Roach. I am uncertain what Roach would do if the bruxa attacked them.

Vereena keeps pleading her case to Ciri while she scream slams Geralt. The actress goes SO seamlessly from innocent to terrifying. Also, I love the effects. It all looks very cool.

Now she flies around, they fight some more. She turns into a monsterbat!! (I’m very shitty at describing fight scenes, but you probably already watched it, so just delve into your memory banks). Geralt finally gets her and she slams across the snow as she turns into a naked woman.

Of course, this has the visual effect of making it look like Geralt killed a naked woman (which screams vulnerable person), and not a monsterbat. Ciri runs up to check on her. Vereena pops up and is about to rip Ciri’s throat out when Nivellen shows up and stabs her through the chest.

Nivellen is apologizing as he stabs her, and you might think he’s apologizing to Geralt and Ciri for endangering their lives. But when she goes to bite Nivellen (they describe her pulling her body up a blade like that in the books and it stuck in my head, so it was cool to see it) and Geralt lops off her head. Nivellen is devastated. Turns out he was apologizing to Vereena for stabbing her. THAT’S JUST GREAT, NIVELLEN, JUST GREAT. YOU ARE VERY NORMAL AND COOL.

(No one ever thanks Geralt for saving their lives smh toss some fucking gratitude to your witcher once in awhile)

Ciri looks startled, as one might be when they witness a decapitation. There is a disembodied Vereena voice telling Ciri via psychic methods that one day Geralt will come for her too. (STFU Vereena, no he won’t)

Having that voice speak only in Ciri’s head is a narrative way to isolate Ciri and spell out that Ciri is afraid she’s a monster, which would mean it would be Geralt’s job to kill her. (WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS ACT LIKE WITCHERS JUST KILL MONSTERS WILLY NILLY LIKE THEY JUST DO IT EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY AS SOME SACRED CALLING. NO! YOU HAVE TO PAY THEM! Let me ask you, do pest control people just kill every rat they see on the subway or like at the park? NO!)

Ok, getting back on track. Nivellen transforms into Kristofer Hivju.

The curse has been lifted. Geralt tells him he is free. He asks, sifting through the ashes of the love of his life, whether this is what Geralt calls free. He is devastated. He tells the story of how he came across Vereena and how even though she slaughtered people he didn’t see her as a monster. (well good for you Nivellen, but I’m guess all the slaughtered people felt like she was pretty monstrous before she gutted them)

Ciri reassures him that monster or not, she did love him. I should also mention here that Hivju does an AMAZING job in this scene. He’s on his knees, he’s emotional. It’s a whole thing. Geralt waxes philosophical.

“Love and blood, they both possess a mighty power. Learned men and mages have racked their brains over it for years.”

(My apologies for being a Buffy stan for a minute but it reminded me of Spike's 'love is blood' speech)

Nivellen admits he turned his eyes away from her murderous rampages because she knew why he was cursed and she still loved him. It is then that he confesses the real reason he was cursed. He was actually cursed for raping the priestess.

That, understandably, does not go over well with our heroes Geralt and Ciri. It’s a bit of a....what the entire fuck...moment for them. Nivellen reaches out and says “Ciri--please stay, don’t go-”

But they turn and walk away from him.

Then he begs Geralt to kill him. They keep walking. Geralt says “You’re mortal now. Do it yourself.”

DAMN good line.

They walk away together, leaving him on his knees.

I thought it was really powerful and a great end to their encounter with Nivellen. Ciri might be very conflicted and confused about what makes a monster, and Geralt may debate and negotiate that boundary from time to time. But they are both good and decent at heart and they can both agree that rape is monstrous, and they both decide to walk away from him.

When they have another campfire going, and Geralt has recovered from the effects of his potion, he tells her she needs to listen to him and do as he says.

“If I say run, run. If I say hide, hide...”

You can tell this is going to be a theme throughout the season. Will Ciri trust him to take care of her? Ciri agrees. She also confesses that she thinks something is wrong with her. She doesn’t explicitly tell him about her powers. But she opens up enough to say that “wherever she goes, people die” and that she feels responsible, and that it makes her feel afraid all the time.

It isn’t the whole story, but it is a start.

Geralt shares some wisdom with her. He says that fear is an illness and that you must treat it. You treat it by facing your fears. He says it isn’t easy, but he’s there for her (sobs). He also says he won’t let anything happen to her. (I confess when someone says that in a story I yell NOOOO don’t say that! at the screen. It always feels like famous last words.)

But Ciri hasn’t seen that many horror movies I guess, because she simply says “alright.”

WHAT I LOVED WHAT I DIDN’T AND NOTES ON THE BOOKS

LOVED

The beginnings of the relationship between Ciri and Geralt. The ways he reached out to her felt so organic to his own trauma and experiences. It is beautiful to see him giving her something he never had. That is the healing aspect of parenthood.

Tissaia’s grief and love for Yen.

Yen and Fringilla challenging each other.

The exploration of classic witcher themes like monsterhood and what that means.

The acting. Everyone seems so much more settled into their roles.

Just seeing my Yenna again, still thinking on her feet, still a survivor.

DIDN’T LOVE

The only part that frustrated me was how quickly Geralt decides Yen is dead. Geralt doesn’t know Tissaia, so why would he trust her assessment? Beyond that, Tissaia doesn’t even say she’s dead! No one has seen a body! Perhaps they stab the wounded, but sometimes people get captured by the enemy for intel purposes! Why not her? But Geralt just accepts that she’s dead in all of thirty seconds. Maybe Tissaia senses her absences with magic but why would Geralt not even ask her how she knows?

However, that was about it! There wasn’t anything I actively disliked. There were just a few reminders of the missed opportunities last season. When they are talking and Ciri says:

“I’m your destiny.”

And Geralt answers

“You’re much more than that, Cirilla.

Oh my god, when he said that to her in the books, I was screamin. I was jumping up and down. I was tearing up. I just, I can’t tell you. That short story was what made me fall in love with the whole saga. It was the emotional centerpiece of the whole saga. It baffles me to this day how any storyteller could read that story and be like nahhhhh, we won’t put this one it. ????

So hearing that and not it having the same emotional weight just reminded me of what we didn’t get. BUT they are obviously focusing on building it now, and I am here for it, and I can’t wait for it to develop. So onwards and upwards.

Also, there were allusions to a few things that I hope don’t come to pass. Like the bruxa taunting Ciri that Geralt would come for her. I genuinely and deeply hope that they aren’t foreshadowing Ciri running from Geralt or failing to trust him because she sees him as a killer. I just really hope that’s not coming down the pike.

So none of that really counts as a dislike. Just some thoughts.

I’d give this episode an A.

RANDOM NOTES:

At the campfire in the beginning when Geralt is sharing with Ciri that he has nightmares, he says this:

“Except for the one about the rock troll. Overly friendly. Tough image to shake.”

This moment is pretty odd. The words sound like a joke, but the delivery fell flat to me. I was just confused. Then someone on twitter said that maybe the writers have read that fanfic where Geralt catches Jaskier mid-fucking a rock troll. (Which, that IS something Jaskier would do, I’m sorry but it’s true. That fic was both in character, and hilarious.) Now I will always imagine Geralt referring to that and I will get a big laugh out of it.

BOOK NOTES BOOK SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY

So, the plot with Tissaia and Yen, all of that are all brand new. The books don’t even have Yen POVs the first three books and barely any the fourth. So everything with Yen is by necessity going to be brand new.

Also, a lot was changed with Nivellen to fit the narrative of Ciri’s growth. It is a little odd to see so many changes. It’s like walking into your old school and there’s a bunch of new students, and you’re like...this is my school, but not quite? But it was good! The changes all made perfect sense to me. Also, they improved on one thing I didn’t like from the story.

In the short story, Geralt doesn’t really react to Nivellen’s confession of raping a priestess. Nivellen tells him early. He's like...eh I was young and high and peer pressure you know. The priestess was right there. Geralt just seems to accept that and offers to help him. I hated that. The book had already established that the first ‘monster’ Geralt killed was a rapist. So, to have him in a story where he doesn’t react poorly to someone raping a priestess, was deeply irritating and seemed out of step with the character they were already establishing. Also, one of Geralt’s dearest life long friends is a priestess and that should make it feel even more personal to him.

I had hoped the show would take out the rape element, but actually what they did was better. They included it but gave it the weight it deserved, and had Geralt react the way I think he would.

Seeing Triss in pain, and remembering her role in Sodden, confirms they are giving her her chest scars and making that battle an important part of her character development. I really appreciate that.

We had out first references to Emyhr! I’m so curious to see if they are going to actually follow the book on this one...concerning his motivations for chasing Ciri.

Cahir. So, let’s talk about Cahir. LOTS OF SPOILERS HERE FOR FUTURE BOOKS TURN BACK IF YOU CARE ABOUT THAT In the books, he is not much more than a boy, very close to Ciri’s age. He is assigned to go get her so he does. But he is basically a hapless pawn and practically a child soldier. He is also very adamant that he is ‘not a nilfgaardian’. He ends up deserting and aiding Ciri, falling in with Geralt’s group of friends. He also has romantic feelings for Ciri.

The show has made him in his mid thirties, a commander, a zealot, a killer, and a legitimate villain. He is probably the character they have changed the most drastically up to this point. They can’t introduce his character having feelings for Ciri if they don’t want to make him a pedophile. BUT I wonder if Tissaia erasing his mind will lead to transforming his character back into the kind of person who can become friends with Geralt. I don’t know. It’s a thought.

[wherethewordsare]

Birds of a Feather

For @notsafeformurphy who was having a day of it the other day and we got to talking and.... oops this happened. This honestly started out as a nature docu au and ended up a coffee shop au? Idk man.... Anyway, Shay I hope you enjoy this! 

Also tagging @herostag since it was requested. and @jaskierswolf cause I think they’re gonna start yelling at me if i keep forgetting. Going to try to get my tag list back together if anyone is interested. <3 <3 <3 Hope yall enjoy Jaskier huffed as he flopped over again, his body refusing to just relax down into his mattress and let him sleep. It had been a stressful day and to make matters worse, it had been the third night in a row where he was simply unable to sleep. 

Giving up, he reached for his phone, scrolling through youtube for a moment, looking for something that he could just zone out to for a little while. Usually he would put on music or white noise but even that didn’t seem like it would be helpful. He had to find something extremely dull and maybe a bit pretty. 

He scrolled past a thumbnail of three large men in park uniforms. Two of them looked like they were at least somewhat interested in being there while one tall man with near white hair simply scowled at the camera. 

Wild Wednesdays with the Rivia Nature Reserve the title read. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Jaskier huffed as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the kickstand of his phone case out and set it up before pressing play and curling his arms around his pillow. 

“This week, we’ll be talking to Geralt Rivia, our resident raptor specialist about what goes into rehabilitation efforts when it comes to conservation,” someone said off camera, cheerily. When the camera panned to Geralt Rivia however, he did not seem to share the narrator’s same upbeat tone. 

For a few minutes, the narrator off camera seemed to try to ask Geralt about himself, only getting stilted answers and that same scowl that had been in the thumbnail. Jaskier snorted with a smirk. 

“You’re not having any of this, are you? You’re gorgeous though,” he chuckled. He felt his back relax as he yawned, snuggling closer into his pillow. 

And then it happened. From off camera, someone handed Geralt a leather glove that he put on easily before taking a cord. He clicked a bit and the scowl he had moments ago melted into a fond smile. 

“And who is this?” the narrator asked. They clearly had picked up on the shift in Geralt’s demeanor as a small falcon took up perch on his forearm. 

He actually cooed at the bird for a moment before holding it up for the camera. “This is Roach. She’s one of our recent rescues.” He smiled, a barely there tilt of his lips and his honey colored eyes softened. Jaskier got the impression on anyone else, it would have been a full grin. 

“Oh, I like that look,” Jaskier murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“And what is Roach?” the person asked off camera. 

Geralt took a step back, turning his arm slightly, causing the bird to flap agitatedly at him as she kept her balance. “Yes, I know, but I have to show off how pretty you are,” he said to the bird, fond and warm. 

“Oh no,” Jaskier whispered into his pillow. “He’s soft and hot.” 

“Roach here is a red-tailed hawk. They’re pretty common through North America,” he explained, pointing out the red-brown of her tail. The hawk nipped at him as he got her to open her wings for the camera and he only chuckled. “She’s about six, the same age as my daughter actually. And,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure which one is less well behaved.” 

Roach must have understood a bit of that because she gave a cry before nipping at Geralt’s hair, clearly annoyed. 

“Listen, if you weren’t so hornery, I wouldn’t say it,” he said to Roach, pulling another scowl but there was clearly no heat in it. 

This was not the same man from the thumbnail or the same man that barely gave answers about himself at the beginning of the clip. When that bird sat on his arm, he lit up and Jaskier was weak. 

Geralt answered a few other questions about hawks and about the reserves program for rehabbing hawks, his voice deep and gravely. He would have sounded gruff if not for how much he clearly loved what he did. 

Geralt looked at Roach a little sadly. “Unfortunately for our little lady here, she won’t be able to return to the wild. Due to her injuries when she came to us, she won’t be able to hunt on her own,” he gave her a soft smile before he petted down her neck gently. 

Jaskier’s eyes were starting to feel heavy. He had turned into the pillow, letting Geralt’s voice wash over him with simple facts about red-tail hawks as he drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been dull at all but there was something about the way Geralt spoke that just melted him into his mattress. 

When he woke, his phone was dead, probably from being set to autoplay. As it charged, he looked at the videos that had played while he was asleep, most of them from the Rivia Nature Reserve. There were a few specials with other team members but Jaskier picked out the ones that mentioned Geralt Rivia directly. 

It had become a near routine and soon, Jaskier found that he just slept better after watching those nature clips. Sometimes, Geralt wasn’t even on camera, simply walking through the process of population counting for the reserve as the camera panned around to different birds up in the trees. There were other videos featuring Roach the red-tailed hawk as well and it was clear that she was a favorite, not only of Geralt’s but the viewers as well. 

Within three weeks, Jaskier had made his way through nearly the whole catalog of the reserve’s videos. He knew he would move on from tall, silver and brooding and find his next sleep fix but for now he simply enjoyed it. 

~

He should have said no, he should have mentioned that he simply did not do morning shifts, and there was a reason for that, but Essi had been persistent, almost feral about him taking her shift. 

“Please, Jask. I promise, you won’t regret it!” She grinned at him and there was something in her eyes that sent up a dozen red flags. 

“What are you plotting?” He asked flatly, squinting at her over his glass of wine. 

“Not a thing, darling, just trust me on this,” she giggled, sipping her own wine neatly. 

~

It hadn’t been a terrible morning, though Jaskier was barely managing to stay upright by the the coffee grinder. He was used to staying up long nights and it hadn’t changed anything when he knew he would have to open. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

I know you mentioned he had a kid, but he’s single. You’re gonna want to put a blueberry muffin in right now. 

He blinked at his phone, squinting as he tried to decode just what the fuck Essi was saying. 

What?

But he put in the blueberry muffin, his phone on the counter as he watched the three little dots dance where Essi was texting back. 

You still owe me a no questions.

“What the fuck is she even-” Jaskier heard the bell above the door just as he set the timer for the oven. 

“-and so I tell him that if he isn’t going to at least make an attempt to clear out the back trails, we’re going to find a new contractor.” Came a voice behind him. 

Jaskier froze, his hand on his phone. He nearly threw it in a panic. He recognized that voice. He’d recognize that voice in the dark, though to be fair, he usually listened to it in the dark. 

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Geralt Rivia was standing at his counter with two others from the nature reserve. 

“Be with you in just a minute!” he tried for cheery and landed firmly in panicked. He ducked behind the large coffee machine and shot a text back to Essi. 

I haven’t decided on whether or not I love you more than anything or if I’m ever going to

speak to you again!

Have fun! ;)

That bitch. It had been a setup! He adored her, the meddling little sneak. He schooled his face the best he could, knowing full well that his ears were still the color of the strawberry frap they served. 

“Morning, what can I get you guys?” He asked as he wet his lips, trying not to stare right into Geralt’s gorgeous face. 

“Three coffees, a blueberry muffin warmed up and a plain bagel, untoasted,” Geralt said offhandedly as he looked around. “No Essi today?” 

“Uh, no. I’m filing in this morning. Jaskier, at your service.” As he dipped his head in a mock bow he internally cursed himself. One day, one normal day, that was all he asked for. “Hope the bagel isn’t for Roach. I’m not sure she’d like it. How is she? We haven’t seen her much recently?” He shot off without thinking as he started to pour the coffees. He froze again as his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Behind Geralt, both of the men snorted. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, pretty boy,” the darker haired one jostled Geralt’s shoulder with a smirk.

Geralt only stood there, tilting his head slightly as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

“Ah, I mean…” Jaskier fumbled, nearly spilling one of the coffees down his own front. 

“She’s doing fine actually,” there was a soft smile on his face, the same he wore when he got to handle the birds directly and Jaskier could feel himself melt on the spot. “Naughty as ever. Learned a new trick to take a swipe at Lambert here if he’s holding the feed bucket,” there was a low rumble of a chuckle. 

The dark haired one behind Geralt stopped laughing abruptly. “She’s a menace.” He growled, picking up his own coffee from the counter. 

Behind Jaskier, the oven dinged. “Oh and your muffin!” He turned, letting himself have the moment his back was to them to silently scream. He had been tricked! He had been set up! He was going to try to get this man’s number and he would never hear the end of it. 

“You already had it in?” Geralt asked, that smile still in place. 

“What can I say, we make sure to take care of our favorite customers.” He was almost proud of himself at how smoothly that had come out as he turned to look back at Geralt. He should have been paying attention to the muffin as it dropped, missing the bag completely and splatting on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier nearly cried. “I am so sorry. Give me, just a moment, I’ll get another one in for you.” 

He watched as Geralt ducked his head, smirking. “Would you like to meet her?” He gave another tilt of his head, his eyes clearly looking Jaskier up and down. 

He was sure he had died. This wasn’t real. This was the good place. Or the bad place. Either way, this place was the place his soul had clearly left his body. He stood there, cold muffin in hand as he gaped at Geralt. 

“Uh-”

“You don’t,” Geralt cleared his throat, “I was just wondering since you seemed… to be a… fan.” His face slipped into a scowl and no. No that wouldn’t do at all. 

“I would love to, yeah. I’m off at three?” 

“Oh! Jaskier! Thank you for coming in to open. I can take it from here,” Essi slipped in beside him, taking the muffin from his hand. “Morning, Dr. Rivia,” she nearly sang, her face smug. 

“Dead. You’re very very dead when I see you again,” Jaskier whispered to her though he couldn’t stop grinning. 

“So you were saying?” Geralt asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Turns out, I’m free as a bird, you’d say.” Jaskier chuckled as he slipped his apron off and made his way around the counter. 

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes but took his coffee and muffin from Essi. “You know that phrase ‘eat like a bird’ is really not that good of a way of saying that someone doesn’t eat much?” 

Behind them, Lambert scoffed. “Here we fucking go again. I said I was sorry for bringing it up!” 

Later that afternoon he found himself wearing a glove similar to the one he had first seen Geralt in, a small tawny owl bobbing on his arm as he looked on in wonder. He had met Roach and she had nipped at his hair and shirt, screeching when food wasn’t produced. 

“Hmm, let’s get Scorpion. He won’t tear you to shreds,” Geralt gave Roach a fond little tap on her wing with the back of his fingers. 

By the end of the day he left with a few knicks in his fingers and a phone number. He had never slept better.

[bamf-jaskier]

Who the Fuck is Eskel?

If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy? 

Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books. 

Post under the cut

Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves. 

For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show. 

We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:

“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”

“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”

“Come in.”

The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.

“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”

“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”

Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.

She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped. “Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”

Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.

“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”

She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.

“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”

“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.

“Wolf, you’re alive.”

“I am.”

“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”

Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear. 

Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them: 

“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”

Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV. 

Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.

“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”

“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”

This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s. 

“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”

“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”

“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”

“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”

It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.

“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”

Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself: 

Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.

“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”

Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society. 

There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:

“White Seagull.”

“What?”

“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”

“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”

“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”

“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”

“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”

I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.  

Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted. 

In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word. 

Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier. 

Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.

And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events: 

This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.

“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?”

“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”

“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”

“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”

“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”

Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict. 

This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:

The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.

Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.

So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen. 

The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this: 

The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.

“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”

“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.

“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”

“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”

“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”

“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”

“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”

They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.

“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”

Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks. 

So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point. 

Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel. 

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Horse info 101

A horse girl’s guide to the basics for fic writing with an important and lively horse involved:

This got kinda long I’m kinda sorry but not at all lol 

There's three basic gaits (speeds with different patterns of hoof-fall/leg movements

Walking is the slowest and is a four beat gait, meaning each foot hits the ground at a different time. Usually the same pace as a walking human when the horse is calm. Some breeds can walk HELLA fast though. Most horses will fill the same spot/hole where their front hoof was with their back hoof on the same side. If they overstep they clip their fetlock (joint lookin bit above the hoof) or pastern (bit between the hoof and fetlock) and can injure themselves. 

Now trotting. The middle gait, a person can jog next to a trot at a comfortable pace but if you push them a little horses can trot faster than your average HS track endurance athlete. Once again some breeds can trot HELLA fast. This is a two beat gait in that two diagonally opposite legs are moving in unison. In some english saddles (I’ll get into that later if we have class time) it’s easier to post while the horse is trotting rather than sit for the gait. That just means you stand up in the irons (stirrups on an english saddle, we’ll also cover that later) at the same time that one of the front legs moves forward. 

Also, see how the trotting horse’s head looks? That’s how they travel when they’re relaxed and attentive. The tucked head thing you see Roach doing is because there’s tension on the reigns and Henry learned to ride for an english seat not a western pleasure seat (might get into those but they’re really not important)

Time for the Canter/Lope. This is a three beat gait so that means two legs are moving in unison and the other two are not. Horses canter/lope fast. This is the go-time gait. Some performance/dressage horses are trained to canter extremely slow but if we’re talking transportation trained horses they’re not gonna be that kind of slow. Your average human is not gonna be able to keep up with this for long if at all. This varies in speed too. There's a rather casual canter seen in the gif directly below, then below that is the balls to the wall canter/lope that most horse people just refer to as a run. That’s as fast as they can go.

Basic tack names

Halter + Lead/Lead Rope - these can be made of rope, leather, nylon (more modern) but the halter is generally used for leading and tying.

Bridle - this is the one that you use while you ride, it holds the bit in their mouth. There’s millions of different types of bridles but they’re usually made out of leather even now. sometimes you get rope/nylon ones but I don’t trust them.

Reins - connect to the bit and you use them to steer and control speed. Horses trained in western or one handed riding will ‘neck rein’ which means if you move your hand to the right and the left rein brushes their neck they will move to the right.

Bit - the metal piece in the horses mouth. most english riding bits are broken (joint in the middle) and most western ones are solid. there’s a gap behind the horse’s front teeth and that’s where the metal sits. Some horses have smaller mouths than others and do better with solid bits because the ‘broken’ ones will hit the top of their mouth and hurt. There’s also things called ‘shanks’ on some bits which are just longer pieces of metal that attach to the sides of the pieces in their mouth and point downward. This gives the rider more leverage and makes any tug on the reins stronger. (google “Horse bit shank” if this doesn’t make sense)

Saddle - you sit in it. simple right? wrong. There’s two main types of saddles, Western - with the horn like you see in the running gif, and English- the loping gif without the horn. The saddles used in the Witcher look like the pre-english saddle versions but the basic parts you need to know are the same. The part where you ass goes? that’s the seat. the part right in front of your crotch? That’s the pomel. that’s your ‘oh shit handle’ if anything goes screwy (other than the mane). The part that sticks up and keeps your ass in place? That’s the cantle. I like western saddles SO MUCH MORE but i also grew up mainly riding western so im biased. 

Stirrups/Irons - stirrups and irons are where your feet go. In western saddles they’re called stirrups and they’ve got wider decorative leather flaps (called fenders, also originally added to protect trousers/legs from the horse sweat and the buckles of the cinch) and on english saddles they’re called irons because they are usually made of iron and rather slim. Geralt’s irons look pretty similar to modern ones, slim leather straps, minimal iron (or steel or any other strong metal really). Traditional english riders have knee high boots like you see in regency costumes which removes the need for the fenders like on western saddles. 

Cinch/girth - this is what keeps the saddles on. You take a strap and attach it to one side of the saddle, run it under the belly right behind their front legs and attach it to the other side. Its usually made of a strong fabric with wool or some kind of softer lining for western riding. English riding uses a leather one most of the time though this horse girl hates them because they’re harder to cinch up. English saddles use buckles while Western saddles use another leather strap to run through the chinch/girth buckle and you either tie it off or use it like a belt. 

Chest strap - this keeps the saddle from sliding backwards. It’s attached to both sides of the saddle by buckles and between the front legs its attached to the cinch/girth. this is pretty universal but not always used. Geralt uses one though. 

Saddle pad - goes under the saddle to protect the baby’s back and whithers (spot where the neck meets the back and the mane ends)

Tacking up and untacking takes time. This is usually 5-10 minutes when done at a leisure pace and done right.

Basic grooming

Brush down before tacking up - you don’t want stuff chaffing the pony while you ride

brush after untacking- helps clear skin of irritants and feels nice

Shedding scraper/curry comb to get rid of shedding hair - if you want a pic of these just google them I think I’m close to the pic limit for my post. 

HOOF PICK - keep the baby's feet clean and clear if rocks so they don't bruise but also so nothing get infected

Yes, plz brush their mane it gets MATTED - a hairbrush works but a wide tooth comb is best

Horses roll to itch their backs and clean off, sounds counterintuitive with the dirt but it works

Shaving a little spot for the bridle to sit is pretty modern but it's easier for everyone involved

Horse Colors- guys roach is not brown she’s a chestnut color

The only thing I have to add to this is that the “Leopard” one is called “appaloosa” in the US at least, and “Pinto” is also reffered to as “Paint” and there’s all sorts of different patterns that you can see. also i want a buckskin so bad. yes i was obsessed with Spirit as a child why do you ask?

Travel care of your babies

Horses CAN and have subsisted off roadside grasses and grazing at night BUT it's good for them to get a lil something extra ESPECIALLY if you’re keeping them in a stall at night where they can’t graze.

Hay and grains like cracked wheat, oats, barley and the like are commonly found in horse feed. Also a lil drizzle of molasses is chock full of calories and all my horses LOVE the taste.

also while we’re talking food: some horses cant keep all the juice/bits in their mouth when they eat apples (we fondly call it making applesauce) or other treats/veg. Yes it gets all over your hand, yeah its kinda gross, but there’s worse things.

Shoes. Babe's need horse shoes. Especially if they're walking over rocks and roads.

Throwing a shoe (when it comes off on accident) is painful sometimes and if left un-dealt with can affect their joints and spine. Imagine walking around in one heeled shoe and one athletic shoe all day. Ow.

On that note though, on lighter travel seasons it's nice to give their hooves a break from shoes (also cheaper)

Horse moods:

horse mood ear chart here: I cant add much tbh

If a horse is comfortable/happy/relaxed they will ‘chew’ on nothing. Just kina a little lip smack type deal. My horse’s bottom lip would hang a couple centimeters below his top one when he was relaxed and I would put my chapstick in it while I fussed with other things.

When a horse is uncomfrotable/scared/tense their lips get sealed tight. I call it ‘fish butt lips’ bc they’re watertight and NOTHING is getting in there. 

Stamping hooves can be a few things. Antsy and ready to roll, nervous, deadass scared, or playful/excited. 

A full whinny is communication - saying hi, warning, scared, etc.

the really soft whinny is called a nicker and its my favorite sound okay? that’s little soft communication and its usually reserved for times when they’re comfortable.

When they’re really relaxed they’ll cock one of their back legs kinda how we shift our weight to one hip. 

general fun facts:

Some horses fake limp when they don’t want to work bc they are lazy and smart and realize their person will get off and check them out and maybe even give them a rest. 

You do a preliminary leg injury test by running your hands slowly over their legs and checking for hot spots - inflammation caused by injury is warm

Basic horse saftey is never stand directly in front of the horse if theres a possibility of spooking, if you’re gonna walk behind them walk out of reach of their hooves or right up against that ass. If they cant get a good wind up it wont do as much damage (on that note though I rode/trained horses for 18 years and was only kicked once by a foal). 

It’s kinda common sense not to walk/sidestep between your horses legs and under their belly but we do it all the time bc its a trust thing? adrenaline? its fun?

laying on your horse’s back sans saddle, and facing their butt is so nice okay, that ass is soft and cushy and perfect for a nap. I miss laying on my horses while they ate like this every damn day. 

Horses can sense your moods. Not unlike the whole ‘witchers smelling you’ thing. They can feel a difference in the tension on the reins and in your posture when you’re tense or relaxed.

Some horses will take care of their riders, some are absolute shits and push the limits for funsies. Some horses will only behave for people they’re used to too. Some horses have trauma from being mistreated and will have triggers kinda like people do. We had a horse who would freak the fuck out if anyone walked around with a red had but as soon as you took it off she was the most level headed horse we had.

A good portion of horses (Who aren’t scared of children) will behave better with kiddos or novice riders because they feel they’re nervous.

If they hurt while they’re moving they usually limp but sometimes they’ll buck. It’s their defense mechanism. 

Horses can’t sleep for too long laying down because their body weight will collapse their lungs. Most horses sleep standing up.

They can sit like a dog and it’s hella cute. 

Stung by bees? Most horses will take off at a dead sprint bucking and hopping unless you’ve done a lot of trust work/training with them

They also run and jump and buck and rear to play.

If theres two horses in a pasture together one will chew at the other’s whithers (or anywhere else) to ask them to scratch them the same way. its very cute and they sometimes try this with people.

horses hug. I cry. 

the whole deal with the rider/horse relationship is it’s a mutual trust you’re building. They let you sit on their back and do weird shit and you trust them not to throw you.  

Thank you for coming to class today! If there’s any questions feel free to message me! I’m not kidding I wanna answer your questions and I miss my horses so this is fun for me.

@elliestormfound​ here it is boo! lol 

[all-hail-the-witcher]

say yes to the plus one

the sequel to say yes to the drinks. which you should read first. i am so tired. just have it. 

__

ship: geraskier

warnings: none

editing: ish

words: over 3k but under 4k

genre: floof

__

After getting drinks with Geralt, Jaskier could not stop thinking about him. He found himself taking more time with his appearance each morning - something that he hadn't even thought would be possible - hoping that Geralt would come into the store.

But Geralt still hadn’t come into Kleinfelds since the day of his trunk show. Jaskier tried not to be disappointed. He knew that he was very busy and it had been a one off that he had even met him in the first place.

Still, he couldn’t help but think that the two of them had something. There must have been some sort of chemistry between the two of them. Why else had Geralt asked him to get drinks after he had made that awful slip up with the magic fingers? Surely, he must feel something for him.

He had been texting Jaskier though, so Jaskier knew that he was at least still interested. Every message that he got wishing him a good morning or about some funny wedding dress design or of a picture of Geralt’s Pomeranian, Roach, made his heart flutter. There just had to be a future for them, right?

So, Jaskier went through yet another day of busy appointments at Kleinfelds, hoping that he would run into Geralt.

Late May into early June was always a busy time for them. Jaskier didn't personally understand the appeal of getting married in a zillion degree heat, but to each their own. This was by far his least favorite part of the year though. He spent every hour at work on his feet, hardly getting a break as he rushed from appointment to appointment: checking on alterations, making sure that every bride was getting their dream dress, and providing tweaks to designs when necessary to prevent bridal meltdowns.

It was nothing short of exhausting.

“Jaskier!” Camille, one of the consultants, called to him at around mid afternoon.

He had just spent the last hour trying to get a very adamant, very conservative mom and a very eccentric bride on the same page. He needed a daiquiri. Or three. Still, he turned around and put on his brightest smile.

“Yes, darling?”

“You’re needed down in alterations,” she said with a sweet smile.

Jaskier nodded and turned back through the salon to walk down to alterations. He hated going to alterations. If he was needed there, it usually meant that shit had hit the fan in some sense. He braced himself for a long afternoon.

He walked up to the manager, about to ask her where he was needed, when a shout from behind him made him jump.

“Jaskier!”

And a swell of desire rose up in Jaskier’s stomach because he knew that gravelly voice. Quickly, he straightened his tie, thankful he had worn his good pink one today, before taking a deep breath and turning around.

“Geralt!” he said, trying furiously to keep his cheeks from flushing. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Surprise?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together as he walked up to Jaskier, his wolfs head cane clicking across the floor. He was wearing a light blue button down today with the sleeves cuffed to his forearms that made his golden eyes pop and Jaskier had to struggle to keep his eyes on his face. “I texted you this morning.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened as he reached into his blazer pocket for his phone. Sure enough, there were two messages from Geralt. The first was a picture of Roach, lying in a patch of sun in his apartment. The second was a message that read:

Hey, I’m going to be at Kleinfelds today doing a custom fitting. Can you help with the appointment?

And Jaskier had never even seen it. Much less responded.

“Oh Geralt, I am so terribly sorry,” Jaskier said quickly. “This is our busiest time of year and I have hardly had a moment to think today.”

“You don’t have to help,” Geralt said sincerely, concern clouding his eyes. “I don’t want to push you too hard with the rest of your appointments, but I just figured that since I was here, I would ask.”

“No, no darling!” Jaskier said, rushing to reassure him. “Of course I will help! Helping you is much better than dealing with emotional brides and entourages that aren’t on the same page.”

“It’s alright Jaskier,” Geralt said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I know you just want to see my magic hands at work again.”

This time, Jaskier did flush bright red. “ You! ” he said outrageously, gaping at Geralt’s audacity to bring up his slip up from last time. “You need a nap!”

But Geralt just laughed, a glorious sound that sent shivers down Jaskier’s spine. “I think you’re the one who needs the nap, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shot him an incredulous look. How dare he make such assumptions, and how dare he be right?

“Anyway, the fitting is for my brother’s fiancee,” Geralt explained. “I made her a custom dress and she’s coming in for her fitting today. There was a shipping delay, so we only have time for one fitting before their wedding next week. I was hoping you could help.”

Jaskier could see the tension that had creeped its way into Geralt’s broad shoulders and the worry that was clouding his pretty face.

Jaskier placed a reassuring hand on Geralt’s arm. “Of course I’ll help, darling. Helping resolve wedding dress disasters is my specialty. Er- not that your dress is a disaster,” he said quickly, amused by the way that Geralt’s eyebrows had shot up. “Nothing that you design could ever be a disaster, the way that you work lace and beads is just divine, not a disaster. Not in any way a disaster. What I meant was the fact that she only has one fitting, that’s the disaster. Not your dress.”

“My magic fingers are quite incapable of creating a disaster dress, you’re right,” Geralt winked.

Jaskier resisted the urge to smack his shoulder. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope.” Geralt looked far too pleased with himself. “Can you grab the dress for me? It’s on the rack for the day. And can you bring it to room 13?”

“Of course,” Jaskier said. He’d let the magic fingers comment slide for now. Geralt looked far too attractive with his moonlight silver hair in an artful bun, tendrils framing his face, for him to stay mad at him for long. He had never been able to resist a pretty face.

“Thank you.” Geralt moved past Jaskier and began to make his way to the room. Jaskier turned to watch him walk down the hall. His ass looked far too delicious in those gorgeous, fitted navy pinstripe pants. He just had to appreciate it. It would be a crime not to.

Distantly, he wondered if his ass looked just as delicious without the pants on. And was he wearing boxers or briefs? Oh who was he kidding, he had to be wearing at least briefs with pants like those. But what color? Geralt seemed like the type of man to appreciate a fun pair of underwear and-

Jaskier. Get your head out of the gutter.

He made a beeline to the rack and grabbed the dress. He had already left Geralt waiting long enough.

“Here you are,” Jaskier said, hanging the dress in the room.

Geralt fidgeted with his shirt sleeves, eyeing the bag. With a pang, Jaskier realized that he was nervous.

“I’m sure she’s going to love the dress,” Jaskier said, putting as much sincerity as he could into his words. “You are one of the best designers in the industry, Geralt.”

“I know,” Geralt said. “But I’ve never designed for someone that I know before, there’s more risk involved if they don't like it. Cause she’s put all her trust in me and what if she doesn’t like it? This is her only fitting. There isn't time to make anything else."

“Geralt,” Jaskier placed his hand over Geralt’s where he was still fidgeting with his sleeve. “She’s going to love it. Don’t doubt yourself so much, it ruins your pretty face.”

Fuck, did he just really say that out loud?

Geralt’s doubt dissipated as he looked at Jaskier amusedly. “You think my face is pretty?”

“Well who wouldn’t?” Jaskier said, trying and failing to backpedal. “It’s a plenty beautiful face, I mean you’ve got a nose and eyes and everything and…”

“I would hope I have a nose and eyes, yes,” Geralt laughed. Then, he leaned in, as if telling Jaskier a secret. “I’ve also heard that I have lips, too.”

Jaskier was saved the embarrassment of having to respond by a consultant escorting who Jaskier assumed to be Geralt’s brother’s fiancee and her entourage into the alterations area.

“Geralt!” a pretty girl with dark, curly hair said as she stepped up to hug him.

“Hi Triss,” Geralt said, giving her a polite hug and waving to the rest of the entourage. “Are you excited?”

“Of course I’m excited,” she said. “It’s only a week away, Geralt. This better be every bit as perfect as you said it would be.”

“It will be.” Geralt’s smile was easy, as if he hadn’t been freaking out about the appointment moments before.

“And who is this?” Triss asked, turning to Jaskier.

“Oh, everyone, this is Jaskier. He’s a consultant here and my friend,” Geralt said.

“Hello!” Jaskier said, giving everyone a wave.

“Jaskier, this is Triss, the bride to be. She’s marrying my brother.” Geralt gestured to the woman with the dark hair standing in front of them.

“Hello darling,” Jaskier said, shaking her hand. “You look just gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Triss smiled.

“And this is Triss’s friend Yennefer, Yennefer’s daughter Ciri, my other brother Lambert, and Lambert’s husband Aiden,” Geralt said, pointing at the people sitting on the bench.

Jaskier waved to them all and gave them his best customer service smile.

“Tell me about your fiancee, darling,” Jaskier said to Triss.

“I am getting married to Eskel,” she said, her face lighting up immediately. “We’ve known each other forever and he is perfect.”

“Forever is an understatement,” Geralt said. “They went to kindergarten together.”

“Oh, a childhood love story!” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “How romantic! Let’s hope you have a dress to match.” He turned to Geralt.

“Well darling,” Jaskier said, gesturing to the garment bag that Triss’s dress was in. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Geralt stepped up to the garment bag, his shoulder taught with anxiety.

“Take a breath, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, just quiet enough for only Geralt to hear. “She’s going to love it.”

Geralt nodded once before unzipping the bag and pulling out the dress. Jaskier couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh my god, it’s gorgeous,” Triss gasped next to him, taking Jaskier’s words right out of his mouth. “Geralt, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“You haven’t even put it on yet,” Geralt said, stepping away so that the entourage could see it as well.

“I don’t have to to know that it’s everything I wanted and probably more,” she said, giving Geralt another hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Geralt said and Jaskier thought that he saw a light blush tinting his cheeks. Was Geralt embarrassed? Oh that was just adorable…

The dress itself was gorgeous, just as Jaskier suspected it would be. It was a glorious ivory color that seemed to shift under the lights to be a gorgeous pale blush pink. The skirt appeared to be A line and was sleeveless with a high neck. The bodice had an intricate lace and beading design that blended into the skirt. Jaskier knew that the dress was going to be amazing but Triss was right, Geralt had really outdone himself.

“Would you like to put it on, darling?” Jaskier asked.

Triss nodded, still not tearing her eyes from the dress as Geralt stepped out of the dressing room and Jaskier closed the curtains behind him.

He helped Triss into the dress, zipping up the back effortlessly.

“Oh it fits you like a glove darling,” he remarked. “Almost like it was made for you. Oh wait-” he smiled at her. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Triss laughed at his terrible joke - bless her - as she fingered the lace and beads on the front. “I wasn’t expecting it to look this beautiful,” she whispered.

“Well then let's spin you round, darling,” Jaskier said, taking her hand as she turned to face the mirror. “That’ll really shock you.”

“Oh my god.” She clapped her hands over her mouth as she gaped at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side to look at herself better. “Oh my god .”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Jaskier smiled at her. “Geralt is far more talented than he gives himself credit for.”

“Tell me about it,” Triss said distractedly as she continued to stare at the dress. “This is absolutely gorgeous. I love it. Eskel’s going to love it. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Stop feeding pretty boy’s ego and show us then!” someone shouted from the other side of the curtain.

“Fuck off, Lambert!” Triss called back. “I’m having my bridal moment,” she whispered, tears springing up in her eyes as she continued to stare, utterly transfixed by the dress.

“Here, darling,” Jaskier said, pulling his pink pocket square out of his breast pocket. “You don't want to get your mascara on the dress now, do you?”

Triss dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath before handing the handkerchief back to Jaskier.

“Are you ready to show your entourage?”

“She better be!” Lambert shouted from outside again.

Triss let out a watery laugh. “Yeah, I am.”

Jaskier drew back the curtain as Triss turned around.

“Oh, Triss,” Yennefer said, tears unmistakably clouding her eyes. “You look gorgeous.”

“Holy fuck, Geralt,” Aiden muttered as he stared at the dress, his jaw dropped. “ You designed that ?”

“Hey!” Lambert elbowed him. “I already said that pretty boy doesn’t need his ego inflated any more than it is!”

“Okay but fucking look at the dress, Lambert. It’s fucking gorgeous. And I’m half fucking blind. ”

Lambert shrugged. “Yeah I mean it’s nice. It’s a dress. It’s fabric. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say she looks beautiful!” Aiden nearly shouted, smacking Lambert’s shoulder. “And that Geralt did a great job because if you don't I swear your ass-”

“Boys.” Triss crossed her arms. “There are children present.”

“I’m nineteen!” Ciri protested, throwing her hands up.

Triss ignored her. “There are children present and this is my fitting. So Lambert, shut up and tell your brother he did a good job.”

“You did a good job not fucking it up, Ger,” Lambert muttered.

“I’ll take it. And Aiden? You can finish that sentence later,” she said with a pointed look.

She turned to Jaskier, who had been watching the entire exchange with raised eyebrows. “Sorry about them, they are always like this.”

Lambert flipped her off. Aiden threw up a peace sign.

“Well,” Jaskier said, trying to contain his laughter. “Clearly they are meant for eachother.” He was just glad that he hadn’t had to diffuse the situation. He was tired of telling entourages to get along.

“It’s a good thing they got married then,” Geralt said, standing slowly and walking over to Triss. “You like the dress then?”

Triss once again read Jaskier’s mind and playfully punched Geralt’s shoulder. “I fucking love it . I was right, it is everything I wanted and more. Thank you.” Her eyes were shining with tears again and this time, it was painfully obvious that Geralt blushed when he looked down at his shoes.

“Of course, it was my pleasure,” Geralt said, squeezing her arm. “I’m glad you and Eskel are finally tying the knot, I couldn't imagine a more perfect match for him than you.”

“Geralt,” Triss sighed, the tears pooling in her eyes spilling over again. “You didn't need to make me cry more! The dress was enough!”

Geralt just laughed. Jaskier silently passed Triss his pocket square again.

“Is there anything big that you want to change or do I just need to adjust the fit?” Geralt asked.

“Just the fit,” Triss said, dabbing at her eyes again.

Geralt nodded and set to work, silently slipping into the zone, pinning and adjusting and occasionally stepping back and squinting at his work. Jaskier knew that Triss and her entourage were talking, but he didn't even pretend to be paying attention. He was much more content to watch Geralt work, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the fabric as he made the already gorgeous gown look somehow even more phenomenal.

“Alright,” Geralt said, stepping back. “I think that that should be good, spin round for me.”

Triss turned to look in the mirror.

“Does it look okay?” Geralt asked and Triss punched his shoulder again. “Ow!”

“Geralt if you don't stop insulting your frankly quite stunning work, I will have to steal your little demon dog,” she said, looking over the dress in the mirror. “But yes, everything looks good.”

“Roach isn’t a demon,” Geralt pouted, and oh fuck wasn’t that adoreable.

“That fucking dog almost bit my hand off!” Lambert shouted from the bench.

Geralt made several rude gestures at him and Jaskier nearly swooned. Fucking hell he was gone for this man. And it was only the second time that he had seen him.

“Jaskier, can you get her out of the dress?” Geralt asked. “Be careful with all the pins.”

Jaskier nodded, very much at a loss for words.

“C’mon darling,” Jaskier said, tugging the curtain closed behind Geralt again.

He undid the zipper on the back of Triss’s dress and helped tug the dress off her shoulders, mindful of the many pins that Geralt had put in it.

“Have you and Geralt known each other long?” Triss asked.

“Oh, no not at all,” Jaskier said, glad that he was standing behind her and couldn't see the flush of his cheeks. “He helped me with an appointment a few months ago and we went out for drinks after and we’ve been texting occasionally, but that’s it.” He didn’t say that he wished it was more.

“You went out for drinks on the day you first met?” Triss asked, letting her voice rise. “That’s interesting, Geralt doesn’t often go out with people that he’s just met.”

There was a shout from the other side of the curtain, but it was muffled almost immediately, the sound of a hand slapping over someone’s mouth unmistakeable.

“Well, it had been a long day and we were both in need of one. Step out for me, darling,” Jaskier said, picking up the dress and hanging it back up.

“I’m sure you were,” Triss said from behind him as he zipped the dress carefully back into the garment bag. Before he had the chance to ask what she meant, she was opening the curtains and walking back outside to her entourage.

Jaskier picked up the garment bag and followed her.

“It was lovely meeting all of you,” he said, waving to the entourage. “Triss, darling, I hope you have a wonderful wedding and Geralt, it was nice seeing you again.” He turned back down the hall to go hang up the dress for Geralt to deal with later. He should get back upstairs, hopefully nothing too dire had happened in the salon during his absence, even if the break had been nice.

He was just turning to go up the stairs when he saw Geralt walking purposefully towards him, his cane clicking quickly against the floor.

“Jaskier!”

“Oh, hi again!” Jaskier said. “I was just going to head back upstairs, we are still very busy.” He gave Geralt an apologetic smile. There was nothing that he would rather do than stand and talk with Geralt.

Geralt winced. “Then I guess you probably shouldn't have helped me with the appointment.”

“No, no!” Jaskier said quickly. “It was my absolute pleasure, Geralt. And honestly? The salon was driving me a bit insane, so it was quite a nice and much needed break.”

“Well thank you for helping,” Geralt smiled. “I think it went well.”

“It definitely did, darling,” Jaskier said. “She loved the dress, just like I told you she would.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and looked down at his feet, placing both hands on top of his cane. “Actually though, I had something to ask you before you get back to work, if that’s okay. I don’t want to keep you.”

“The only thing you’re keeping me from is crying brides and disapproving mothers, and there is only so much of that that my poor soul can take,” Jaskier said. “I’d rather stay here with you and your-” he cut himself off before he made another terrible slip up. He had already learned his lesson from last time.

“With my magic hands? Or my pretty face?” Geralt asked smugly.

Jaskier sighed, ignoring him. “What was it that you wanted to ask me?”

“I have a plus one for Triss’s wedding next week,” Geralt started.

“And you haven’t asked anyone yet?” Jaskier asked. “Geralt, what have you been doing?”

“...Designing dresses?” he said sheepishly.

Jaskier swore his heart melted. He just looked so cute. How on earth was this allowed?

“Well, you better ask someone,” Jaskier said. “You’re running out of time.”

“Yes I know.” Geralt looked at Jaskier and smiled. “Jaskier, what are you doing next Saturday?”

“Saturday?” Well…” Jaskier trailed off, trying to remember what was coming up. “That is technically my day off, but I might still come in because we have just been so busy and we’re getting a new collection in and I’m going to have to….wait….” his eyes widened as he finally processed what Geralt had been asking him. “Are you….are you asking me..?”

“Would you like to be my plus one to Triss’s wedding?” Geralt asked, his golden eyes somehow sparkling in the atrocious fluorescent lighting.

“ Oh ,” Jaskier gasped. “Yes. Yes I would love to.”

“Great,” Geralt said, breathing an audible sigh of relief. “I’ll pick you up at 1pm. It’s formal. Be ready.”

Oh, Jaskier would be ready alright. He walked back to a salon with a huge smile plastered across his face.

__

may be a ch 2. havent decided. 

tag list:

@percy-jackson-is-sexy-

@barlowpng

@eminasan

@llamasdumpsterfire

@nonegenderleftpain

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

@geekymagicalpotato

@jaskierswolf

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account

@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

@littleredhotridinghood

@fontegagrilledcheese

@acemoppet

@lookatgeraltmyboi​

@gods-oopsie-woopsie​

@julek

@funkylittlebard

@dani-dandelino

@officerjennie

@kuripon

@alllthequeenshorses

@mothmanismyuncle

@dapandapod

[lesdemonium]

romtober day 16: right person in front of them the whole time

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2019 Summary: Geralt and Jaskier do not have the best luck when it comes to dating. At least they have each other there to make up for bad attempts.

read on ao3

“Oh no,” Jaskier said in lieu of a greeting as he answered his phone. “If you’re calling me, that must mean things are not going well.”

“Her wallet is filled with pictures of her cats,” Geralt answered with a huff.

“You love cats!”

“She has at least ten. She lost count.” Geralt did not sound amused, but Jaskier could not hold back his snicker. “She told me all of their names, and each one was more ridiculous than the last.”

“Okay, you can’t judge her on that. You’ve named every cat you’ve owned Roach,” Jaskier countered.

“I’ve owned two. At different times!”

Jaskier snorted and, though Geralt couldn’t see him, he rolled his eyes. He leaned back into his couch and balanced the phone on his shoulder as he tried to eat the noodles he had prepared. It wasn’t going well, but he hadn’t expected it to.

“So, are you coming over, or what?” Jaskier asked with a mouthful of noodles, which mostly made it to his mouth. Who was going to judge him? Geralt?

“Yeah. Open your door.”

Jaskier jumped a little at the rap at the door. As he got up, and put his dinner down, he ended the call and fixed Geralt with his best withering stare as he pulled the door open. “You know, it’s a little suspect that you manage to get inside the security door every single time without my help,” Jaskier said, though he stepped back to let Geralt in.

“You spilled something on your shirt.”

Jaskier huffed, but it was largely for show. Seconds later, they were sat on the couch together, their bodies so close they touched every time either one of them moved. Geralt moaned about Jaskier eating messily, and Jaskier ate even messier just to bother Geralt. It was nice. It was far better than Jaskier’s plans of a night to himself watching trash T.V.

“So, she wasn’t the one?” Jaskier asked, some time later. Geralt only snorted in answer.

--

Jaskier was more than a little drunk. And more than a little sad. And setting his drop-off address for the Uber to be his best friend’s apartment probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but it also wasn’t the worst. The jury was out on which of his decisions was the worst, but Jaskier was sure Geralt and Yennefer both had a few ideas, and it was definitely not this particular decision.

It was the decision that made him feel the most comforted, however, and that was what Jaskier needed right now. Even if Geralt took a little too long to open the door after Jaskier knocked. He grew anxious, in that time, and began to bite on his thumb nail as he considered his options. He couldn’t call another Uber--his phone was about dead. He couldn't walk home, it was entirely too far. Jaskier knocked again.

Geralt’s glaring face greeted him a second later.

“It’s the middle of the night, Jas--”

He barely got the words out before Jaskier forced himself past Geralt and into the apartment. Jaskier stopped, though, because really his plan had only gone as far as to get him inside, and now that he was standing in the entryway he didn’t know what to do with his hands, his body, anything.

“I think I’m going to be alone forever,” Jaskier finally said, and his shoulders slumped.

Geralt hesitated a second, then Jaskier heard the door close. “Come on,” Geralt said, taking Jaskier’s forearm and pulling him to the couch. He sat Jaskier down on it and handed him a blanket. The only way he could have made Jaskier feel more like a child would have been by laying the blanket out for him, but Jaskier found himself comforted rather than condescended to. It was nice.

“You and Virginia broke up?” Geralt asked some time later as he sat on the couch beside Jaskier and handed him a cup of tea. Jaskier nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

So they didn’t. Instead, Geralt told Jaskier all about Ciri’s middle school drama and the dog he had helped rehabilitate that day. Jaskier didn’t tell Geralt about anything of consequence, only listened quietly--unless the story called for an interruption, as middle school drama often did--until he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, he was in Geralt’s bed, and the apartment smelled like pancakes and syrup.

--

He hasn’t shown up.

Jaskier didn’t often use punctuation in his texting--that was more Geralt’s bag. But this situation called for punctuation. Of course his first attempt at a date after his breakup would result in Jaskier getting stood up. It only made sense. Still, it was embarrassing, and Jaskier kept ducking his head to avoid the pitying glance his waitress gave him.

When were you supposed to meet? Geralt sent back.

Jaskier huffed. Half an hour ago. This was stupid. I knew it was too early, too unlikely. He could probably smell the desperation.

Where are you at? The restaurant still?

Yeah. Though I’m about to leave. I can’t take the shame anymore.

Give it ten more minutes.

When the waitress came back, Jaskier offered her an apologetic smile. “No, sorry, still not here. Might as well just--”

“Sorry I’m late.”

Jaskier looked up, astonished, to see Geralt sliding into the chair across from him. Geralt hardly looked at Jaskier, though. Instead, he smiled at the waitress and ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer Jaskier hadn’t even looked at.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, once the waitress had left. There was a bit of a spring in her step now, as if she was pleased at the way things turned out. “What are you doing here?”

Geralt shrugged, then took a sip from the water in front of him. All the ice had melted and it was close to overflowing. “No sense in wasting an evening. I was hungry.”

Jaskier beamed at his friend and rolled his eyes, but let the matter drop entirely. This was a far better way to have dinner, anyway. Jaskier probably wouldn’t have wound up liking the guy. And Geralt had much better taste in appetizers, Jaskier was sure.

--

Geralt didn’t even bother knocking before he opened the door. Jaskier only just barely masked his shriek with a gasp, but didn’t manage to do the same with his jump, and as a result banged his head on the cabinet he had just opened. He wasn’t sure which look was more unimpressed--Geralt’s or his own.

“Who just walks in like that, Geralt?” Jaskier demanded, crossing his arms.

“Who just leaves their apartment door unlocked?” Geralt countered.

Jaskier shrugged, and instead of pulling out one plate for himself, he pulled out two. He put his dinner--a pasta dish, and really he needed to figure out cooking something other than carbs, but they had to stop tasting so good--and held it out as a silent offer to Geralt. As Jaskier suspected, he took the plate, then sat at Jaskier’s very-unused table. Ugh. That meant Jaskier would have to sit there, too.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Jaskier asked as he sat across from Geralt. “Didn’t you have a date tonight? I thought this one was promising.”

Geralt shrugged and didn’t even look up from his plate. “I cancelled. It didn’t seem worth it. The last four dates haven’t gone well, why would this one?”

“You didn’t even give him a chance,” Jaskier said, pointing his fork at Geralt. “What if he was the one?”

Geralt snorted and finally met Jaskier’s eye. “I highly doubt he was the one. I’m taking a break from it all. I only signed up for the stupid app in the first place because you and Yen wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m just… not interested.” 

Jaskier sighed dramatically, but pressed no further. Geralt seemed as if his mind was made up, and nothing Jaskier said at this point would change it. As he thought on it, though, Jaskier wasn’t sure he even wanted to change Geralt’s mind.

--

Geralt was definitely ignoring him. Jaskier was standing there, dressed up, holding dinner from Geralt’s favorite restaurant and a bag of goodies, pounding on the door, and Geralt was ignoring him. Jaskier refused to let this happen, however.

“Geralt, I know you’re in there. Ciri told me you were home tonight!” Jaskier called through the door. He had paused his knocking just long enough to say that, but he started up again, this time with far more force than was necessary. So much force that when Geralt swung the door open, Jaskier staggered forward, caught off guard.

“Jesus, Jaskier, what?”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Jaskier asked, straightening up and grinning at Geralt.

Geralt glared at him for a moment, but eventually he stepped back and motioned for Jaskier to enter. Jaskier set down his bags of goodies and turned to Geralt, suddenly flustered beyond belief.

“Right, well…” he started, then trailed off. He hadn’t let himself think of his speech--it made him too nervous. But now that he felt woefully underprepared, he wished he had run through it in front of the mirror a few times.

“What, Jaskier?” Geralt asked. His eyebrow raised and he looked over at the bags, then up and down Jaskier himself. “Are you okay?”

“I brought--” Jaskier started, then paused. He cleared his throat, then motioned toward the bags. “I brought food. And. Some other things. To make this… big gesture. But, I have to get something out first.” Jaskier stopped, then met Geralt’s eye. Geralt just watched him expectantly. “You’re not dating anyone.”

Geralt clearly hadn’t expected that, judging by the way his face scrunched up in confusion. “No, obviously I’m not.”

“Do you--want to date me?” Jaskier asked, then winced. Fuck. That hadn’t been part of even his hasty planning.

“Jaskier, what--” Geralt asked, his eyes wide, but Jaskier barrelled on.

“You’re my best friend. And. And I love spending time with you, and things are so easy between us, and whenever I’m upset, you’re the only one I want to see. Whenever I’m happy about something, I want to tell you first. Nothing has ever worked, no other relationship I’ve had, but this one always works. And for the longest time, I was afraid that… pushing things further would ruin things for us. That if we brought feelings into this, that we’d lose what we have.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “But I’m not afraid anymore.”

Geralt watched him, but his face betrayed nothing to Jaskier. Except maybe a bit of disbelief. That was okay, Jaskier could give him time to process this. After he finished.

“I think I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a really, really long time. I think you love me, too. I think that’s why you decided to stop dating.”

Jaskier stepped closer. He walked right up to Geralt, then stopped when there was just an inch between their feet. Geralt could close the gap, or not, with very little effort. If only he took it.

“That’s… an interesting conclusion to come to,” Geralt answered, and his voice was the picture of calm and collected. The way his eyes darted around Jaskier’s face told Jaskier a different story. Jaskier grinned.

“It’s the right one.”

“You sound sure,” Geralt answered. Jaskier saw the barest hint of a smile, right there, at the corner of Geralt’s mouth.

“I am.”

Geralt stared at him a moment longer, and Jaskier let out a huff.

“Geralt, I don’t mean to push you, but I kind of bared my soul there. If you could throw me some kind of bone, or kiss me, or--or do something other than just stare at me like a--”

Geralt’s answer was to cup Jaskier’s face between his hands and drag him in for a kiss. Jaskier didn’t mind being interrupted. He also didn’t mind that their food grew cold; he barely even noticed. All that mattered was that he was right, and Geralt was a fantastic kisser.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

this is a do as I do song

follow up fic to this is a repeat after me song

camp counselor Jaskier goes on his first date with Geralt, his favorite camper’s hot dad with a mysterious job and a lifted Jeep

---

“Dad,” Ciri says, scooping a forkful of mac-n-cheese into her mouth, “I fell out of the tree on purpose. Didn’t even hurt that bad.”

Geralt blinks and turns to face his daughter. “Excuse me, Squirrel?”

“You like Mr. Jaskier,” she points at him with her fork. He does that to her sometimes when they have dinner and he’s trying to impart fatherly wisdoms, but when she does it the motion seems somehow even more poignant and threatening, “And you wouldn’t have said anything. Mama says you’re a, hmmm, you’re a anxious wreck.”

Geralt will have words with Yen about that later, but for now he needs to get his daughter ready for bed. “Hmm.”

“You’re welcome,” she adds, smiling. Her teeth are still full of noodles and he frowns until she closes her lips again. 

“Better, cub. Let’s get finished up so you can take a bath before bed, alright?”

“Woohoo! Ducky time!”

---

“Good morning, Miss Cirilla!” Jaskier greets, swooping his favorite camper into his arms for a quick hug. “Any fun stories to tell me today?”

“I found a frog in our backyard last night while Roach was taking a shit!”

“Ciri,” he frowns. She covers her mouth with one hand, the other latched firmly onto her counselor’s. “What did I say about swears?”

“Not in front of the other kids. Also that they make me sound uncouth,” she giggles. The word sits heavy and strong in her mouth and she likes it; she loves when Mr. Jaskier teaches her new, big-people words. Like uncouth and detrimental and menacing. She likes Mr. Jaskier, and if her Dad likes him too, that makes it even better! Everyone that Dad likes is probably a good person.

“That’s right, and what are you?”

“A lady! An evil lady, though,” she adds seriously. 

“Evil Ciri today?”

“Mhm. Dad said I can’t have macaroni two nights in a row so I’m being Evil.”

“That’s very fair.”

“Can you make mac and cheese?” 

“Yes. I make it from scratch because I am not a fool,” Jaskier says, smiling down at his charge. She swings their joined hands and nods seriously.

“Alright. You can come over and make it next week, then. When it’s allowed again.”

“You’ll have to talk to your father about that first,” he bites his lip. “It might not be very appropriate for your camp counselor to make you dinner.”

“You should be my Dad’s boyfriend instead, then. He’d let you make dinner if you were his boyfriend.”

Jaskier dies a little on the inside and turns bright red. “Go play with the chalk for a minute, I need to check on our snack cooler.”

---

Jaskier sits down at the small café table and clutches his strawberry lemonade with terrified determination. Geralt takes the seat across from him and swipes a lock of white hair behind his ear. The deep, gravelly voice he’s been daydreaming about for the past week slips out from between Geralt’s lips and Jaskier nearly loses his mind again: “Sorry about Ciri.”

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for,” the counselor chuckles. “She’s incredible. A real pain in my butt, for sure, but the sweetest kid I’ve had the opportunity to spend time with in years. If I had a child of my own, I’d want them to be just like her. She speaks her mind, she cares deeply for others, and she’s practically fearless if she thinks that someone is being mistreated; she stood up to a sixth grader last week.”

Geralt tries not to smile too widely right away. It’s nice to hear someone else gush about his child the same way he does and he agrees with everything Jaskier has said so far. Ciri is the best kind of menace. 

“She’s been telling me all about the words you teach her,” he grins. “I don’t know that she thinks of anyone else more highly than you.”

“I could say much the same. But we’re not here to discuss Ciri, are we, Mr. deRiv?”

“No. And it’s probably very weird to call me that when we’re on a date, Jaskier.”

“Fair... Geralt.”

The rest of the afternoon goes incredibly well. It turns out that they share a secret love of glam rock, a fascination with superhero movies, and a favorite color (green). 

Jaskier makes them mac and cheese from scratch the following week, but it’s okay, because he’s Geralt’s boyfriend.

[lets-play-gwent]

We know that Geralt is emotionally constipated but I think people underestimate his powers of observation. He pays so much attention to the people who hires him; the way they describe the situation, their relationships, and their feelings can all impact his work. He *has* to pay attention to survive (and of course, being around humans so long, adulterous, horny, stupid humans, he gets an idea of what love and infatuation looks/smells like).

Jaskier, on the other hand, is better at hiding his affections for Geralt than people give him credit for. Yes it is basically cannon that he flirts with Geralt constantly but it is also cannon that he flirts with everyone constantly. Geralt of course sees this, and the bard knows how to walk the line between being friendly/flirty and professing one's love, because of course he does, he's Jaskier. He knows how to hide his feelings just enough so Geralt doesn't notice a change in his general Jaskierness, but one day, he slips.

Based off of this text post by @witchersjaskier

*****

Jaskier was chattering away by the fire, absentmindedly strumming his lute. Geralt was listening intently while sorting and prepping various herbs for his potion.

Jaksier took a swig from the bottle and offered it to Geralt, who refused with a slight wave of his hand. "I really do have this whole love thing figured out, you know. Humans are really quite simple, you see, and easy to please. With a few well chosen words and maybe a bottle of mead there's no one who wouldn’t fall for--" he posed dramatically--  "Julian Alfred Pankertz. In fact--"

Geralt snorted. "Is that so?"

"It is, Witcher, now don't interrupt. As I was saying--"

He's right, but I'm no human... Geralt thought to himself, the corner of his mouth turning up into a small (but well meaning) smirk.

"As I was saying--” Jaskier repeated louder, “I would go so far as to say everyone I've ever met I've either slept with, stabbed, or fallen in love with,"

Geralt frowned. "You've never stabbed or slept with me."

...

Silence.

Jaskier flinched and muted his lute, realizing his mistake. To this day he doesn’t know why he didn’t smooth over the rift with yet another set of well chosen words, as he had done innumerable times before with countless lovers and their concerned wives or husbands. Maybe it was the shitty mead, or the low crackle of the fire, or the thrumming of his heart, or the light he thought he saw sparkle in his favorite pair of golden eyes. For once, he simply couldn’t bring himself to speak. 

A hundred emotions flashed across Geralt's face in a second. He stared into the fire, dead still for several minutes. Then he shifted, drawing a breath to speak, but he was still too overwhelmed with the thoughts swirling around his head to find any words that seemed adequate to respond with, let alone ones that wouldn't screw everything up.

He didn't jump to correct me, he didn't laugh it off, does that mean he...? But he couldn’t... he's being so uncharactetistically quiet-- goddammit Jaskier say something-- this doesnt make any sense-- how could he-- but I'm just-- how long-- 

He shifted again, absentmindedly staring at the long forgotten herbs.

Finally, Jaskier spoke.

"I can see the gears grinding in that head of yours, Geralt, and I get it, you don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry,” He carefully closed the lute into its case. 

Geralt’s frown deepened. Sorry?!?! How could he be--

His voice seemed to grow quieter with ever word. “I know I’m just a nuisance to you and I’m sorry I hung around you for so long, I’m sorry you have to take care of me, it’s just--” Tears began to fall from his crystal blue eyes, but he quickly brushed them away. “I’ll get my bags from Roach tomorrow morning and you can just leave me at the nearest inn--”

Geralt choked and brought his eyes to meet Jaskier’s. “Leave? Why would I want to leave you?” A beat of silence. His chest seemed to squeeze all the air out of his lungs in one fell swoop. “Y-you’re not a--” he choked out, and words began to tumble from his mouth of their own accord. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. “I love taking care of you, I love that you hang around and I love your annoying rants and your lute,” He reached a hand out, but quickly retracted it and lowered his gaze.

“I love you, Jaskier,”

When Geralt looked up again, he wondered if he had said something wrong. The bard (his bard?) had tears streaming down his face and a hand covering his mouth. “Did I--”

“Yes you DID you fucking IDIOT, COME HERE!” Jaskier nearly tackled him, throwing his arms around his Witcher’s shoulders and pulling him into a deep kiss. Melitele herself couldn’t have separated the two if she wanted to. 

EDIT: FOUND! THANK YOU @nol-nol !!!!

someone PLEASE help me find the original text post where Jaskier says “everyone I've ever met I've either slept with, stabbed, or fallen in love with” because I really wanna give OP the credit!!! I would not have had this idea without them and I think that is such a cute line!! Please PM it to me or tag me in it if you ever see it :)

[vvitchering]

I love, LOVE, your writing! Would you be up for some hurt/comfort Gesekel? I'm a sucker for it, especially along the lines of Geralt thinking Eskel has died on the path but then he shows up with his grin and the whole "you should know better Wolf". 💜

I’m so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing ;w; I write for you guys so getting feedback like this literally fuels me. I am also a sucker for hurt/comfort so you are absolutely in luck~

--

It’s never a pretty sight when he makes his way through settlements ravaged by the war. As Nilfgaard pushes ever northward, the people suffer. Geralt is used to carnage wrought by mindless creatures, but seeing the violence done by men to men makes his stomach turn. The bright side, if it can be called a bright side, is that with war comes death, and with death come monsters. War can be profitable for witchers, if there is coin left to be paid. 

He’s just north of White Orchard, in one such town left ransacked and bloody by a skirmish. The notice board had been covered in desperate pleas for assistance with the encroaching necrophages, drawn in by the stench of blood and bodies. Ghouls and Algouls looking to make meals of the dead would quickly move on to living prey once the bodies were devoured. A witcher was needed. Geralt holds one of the contract offers in his hand as he talks to the barkeep at the town’s tavern, one of the only buildings left intact. 

“Ghouls were a big problem, yeah, but you’re a bit late. Another witcher beat you to them, though that might be to your benefit.”

Geralt frowns. He doesn’t often encounter other witchers. They tend to stick to their own territories. 

“And how is that to my benefit exactly.” Geralt asks, already mentally counting his losses. If this town was already clean, he had a week at least to go before he again encountered a settlement big enough to find work in. 

The barkeep gives him a slightly sympathetic look.

“He drove out the flesh eaters, but they still got ‘im in the end. Poisonous bite, you know? Got ‘im right in the neck and it wasn’t long before he stopped moving. Real shame. Wasn’t a bad guy for a witcher, had a bit of good humor about 'im, even with that scarred face of his.”

Geralt’s heart speeds up despite himself. There are plenty of witchers with facial scars. It’s not him. 

He asks the barkeep to describe the good humored witcher. 

Brown hair, strong jaw, wide nose, and terrible scars that disfigured the side of his face and twisted his mouth. 

Geralt’s blood chills in his veins. It’s not possible. No way he’d let something as mundane as a ghoul take him out. 

“Friend of yours?” the barkeep asks.

Geralt is reeling, still trying to process the information, still finding loopholes, when the man reaches underneath the bar and produces a long thin object, wrapped in a white sheet. 

“Was gonna try to sell it, but if he was your kin it’s rightfully yours.”

Any doubt Geralt was trying to hold onto vanishes as he pushes aside the sheet. It’s a witcher’s silver sword, adorned with runes as familiar as the ones on his own sword, and altered at the grip to be easier for larger hands to wrap around comfortably. It’s Eskel’s, unquestionably. And no witcher would let his silver out of his sight unless...

“Where.” Geralt bites out. “Where is he.”

“The body? Dragged ‘im to the old oak by the hill. Couldn’t spare the labor to bury ‘im, you understand, but it seemed the least we could do for his help.”

Geralt snatches Eskel’s sword from the bar and leaves as quickly as his feet can carry him. He leaves Roach tethered outside and takes off at a run toward the hill he can see by the edge of the town. It’s a mistake. It has to be. It can’t be, the evidence is in his hands, but it must be. 

There’s a figure resting at the base of a huge oak that looms into view the closer he gets to the hill. It’s not him. It can’t be him.

Geralt skids to a stop. Falls to his knees in the dirt, the sword slipping from his hands to rest in front of him. 

Eskel is splattered with dried but foul smelling blood and his armor is ripped and tattered. The townspeople must have arranged him in the dignified position he laid in; back straight, eyes closed, his steel sword resting on his chest. They’ve laid him to rest like they would a respected warrior, albeit one who they couldn’t spare the resources to bury or burn.

There’s a high pitched agonized whine coming from somewhere. It takes Geralt a moment to realize it’s coming from his own throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this day would come. No witcher ever died in his bed. But for it to be Eskel, already... They were both still young, by witcher standards, barely men, not even at their first hundred years. And Eskel was gone. 

Distantly, Geralt registers that he’s crying. He feels lightheaded, like his soul is trying to escape and go somewhere else, like it can’t stand to exist in a reality where Eskel does not. Geralt shuffles forward on his knees until Eskel is close enough to touch. He bends over the fallen witcher and presses his face to his neck, searching for his scent, one last memory to hold onto. 

Eskel’s lightning storm essence is there still, underneath the putrid stink of necrophage blood. Geralt breaths it in, greedy, desperate, tears dripping from his face to Eskel’s neck and leaving tracks in the filth there. 

And then he hears it. A weak fluttering thud. A heartbeat. Geralt freezes, doesn’t even dare to breath, lest he destroy himself all over again with false hope. 

A moment passes. Then another. 

The dull thud sounds again. 

He’s alive. 

The relief is sudden and all consuming. Geralt collapses, curls around Eskel as best he can with all of their armor between them, and lets his sobs shake him apart. Eskel’s heart is slow, slower than even a witcher’s should be, and his chest doesn’t move at all for how shallow his breaths are, but he’s alive. 

He’s alive.

Geralt tries to match his breaths to Eskel’s and finds himself slipping into meditation. Eskel is clearly on a deeper level than Geralt has ever experienced, if being handled and transported by humans and having his sword taken from him didn’t draw him out of the trance. Geralt drifts, exhausted by both his grief and his joy, and only stirs when he feels the pillow he’s made of Eskel’s chest shift under him. 

Eskel groans and it’s the most beautiful sound Geralt has ever heard in his life. He sits up in a hurry and snakes a hand under Eskel’s neck to help the larger witcher sit up. His eyes are open and his pupils shrink and grow rapidly as he blinks and reorients himself. His gaze lands on Geralt and he smiles.

“Could’ve used you here a few days ago.”

His voice is rough and dry, but the deep tones are instantly comforting.

“You so far off your game you let a few ghouls turn you into a chew toy?” Geralt teases.

Eskel rolls his eyes and and moves to rotate his shoulder until it pops satisfyingly. He stretches his neck, producing a similar crack, and Geralt catches a glimpse of the half healed bite wound on Eskel’s neck. The barkeep’s story had been true, then. He brings a hand up to smooth down Eskel’s collar and lightly brush over the angry red skin. Eskel hisses and slaps his hand away.

“Gonna scar.” Eskel says gloomily. “I’ll never live it down.”

“You will. You’ll live.”

Geralt means it to sound light and humorous, but the look Eskel gives him says his joke didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped. 

“I’m fine. It was just a ghoul. Got me in a hell of a shitty spot, but it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”

“I know, its just...They told me you died. You looked dead. I couldn’t hear your heart.”

Eskel reaches up and slides his fingers through Geralt’s hair to cup the back of his head. He pulls lightly, bringing Geralt close enough to knock foreheads with him. It’s an action that they’d done since they were children at Kaer Morhen, their own special way of being close. Geralt can hear Eskel’s heart now, beating away strong and loud in his chest. 

“I’m sorry I scared you. I really am fine.” Eskel says quietly, rubbing absently at Geralt’s scalp with the hand buried in the white strands. 

Geralt leans into the pressure for a moment and then pulls away, clearing his throat after the emotional display.

“Don’t fucking do it again.” Geralt says, feigning annoyance. 

Eskel laughs and Geralt once again has a new favorite sound. 

“Yeah, sure, Wolf. I’ll do my best.”

*~*

:’) well that certainly got away from me. I hope this makes up for how long it took me to answer!!

[officerjennie]

23 with all the Witcher characters you'll write

Anon.

-squishes your face-

Anon I love you. I wish you nothing but the absolute best life anyone could ever imagine, because you have given me such a gift.

Characters included here: Jaskier, Aiden, Lambert, Geralt, Eskel, Vesemir (let’s be real, he’s just there for the snacks. Catch him filling his pockets with nuts and pastries to horde in his office). Prompt: orgy

(edit most of the way through writing this: HOW THE FUCK DID I WRITE SOMETHING FOR THE PROMPT ORGY AND INCLUDE NO SEX, I JUST-)

--

Despite popular believe, Jaskier had the best ideas.

The entirety of his previous afternoon had been spent with preparations for the event. It had only taken a little bit of bribing to convince Vesemir that this wasn’t going to end horrifically or with some destruction or another, and really only another bottle of (very expensive) wine as the cherry on top to be given permission to use the mess hall in Kaer Morhen as the location. Though honestly, there wasn’t anywhere else that would have suited the party - so Jaskier was very glad no more bribing was in order there.

If he was honest, convincing everyone to take part in it was the easy part. One really didn’t know the definition of ‘sexually repressed’ until one met a horny witcher who was trying to deny himself the lusts of the skin and Jaskier could count on his first three fingers some witchers that suited that bill to the T.

The fact that he knew exactly five made that rather sad, but he digressed.

With some rather flirtatious invitations, Jaskier had secured participation, but that was only phase one of his plans. After that was making it an actual party, an event, because there was no way in all of the fresh hells that he would let this be even close to mediocre. 

So, the table settings began.

At the end of the evening he found himself spinning in glee, hands clapped in front of his face, fingers touching his lips as he admired his handiwork. All done by himself - the boys could all thank him later for his hard work, since he’d wanted it to all be a surprise for the lot of them, and he had honestly outdone himself.

He hoped no one asked how he got the flowers during this time of year. Some secrets were better left untouched.

It was close to dark, the outside colors bringing in brilliant oranges and purples, when Jaskier set off to round everyone up. Geralt was the first person he found - a given, really. He’d spent enough time traveling around with him that he knew exactly where he’d be, the exact position he’d be in on his bed as he sharpened his sword (because his daggers would have been the first he sharpened, and it was too late in the evening for him to be starting on the task), no doubt trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking forward to anything or affected by the thought of such an event.

His rather tight pants gave him away, though. With a very firm kiss to his delicious lips and a swipe of his eager tongue, Jaskier let Geralt know it was ready. He tugged him up off the bed and patted his arse and sent him on his way, determined to find everyone else before he went down himself and got far too distracted.

The grumbling he heard from his witcher just made him smile more.

It took a little longer to locate Eskel, but Jaskier had figured it easier to find him than the others. Surprisingly he hadn’t been out visiting Lil’ Bleater, the little lady having already been put up snug in her bed, bleating out so cutely when she saw Jaskier that he had to spent a few minutes giving her some love before he went on his way. As he did, he couldn’t help but think about how witchers just...really did love to imprint on animals. Geralt with his precious Roach, Eskel with his classy lady. He wondered what sort of animal Vesemir might relate to, or Lambert?

Wait, no, he didn’t want to know that second one. He blinked in horror and set that thought firmly to a forgotten corner of his mind to grow dust.

Instead of finding Eskel with his adorable little lady, Jaskier ended up running into him in the kitchen. It had been the smell of some wondrous pastries that had clued him in, drawing him in like the hungry sweets demon he was, his fingers already itching to snatch some up and run away with his booty.

Not that he really needed to steal one. It was just more fun that way.

Sure enough, his nose had not lied to him. Eskel was pulling out some of his own handmade and famously delicious apple pastries out of the oven just as Jaskier peeked his head in, and his mouth watered just at the sight. Also, dare he say it, but Eskel was very cute with flour dusted on his spikey, scary shirt.

“Are those for little ol’ me?”

Eskel didn’t startle at his voice but Jaskier didn’t expect him to, used to the terrifyingly good hearing that came with all of the other witcher mutations. “You did say snacks, right? Figured these might do.”

“Oh! Oh, Eskel,” Jaskier felt his eyes tearing up, skipping into the kitchen and just stopping himself from flinging his arms around his now officially second favorite witcher. He skidded to a stop right in front of him, wringing his hands with emotion to keep from burning himself or Eskel (or accidentally impaling himself on said scary spikey shirt). “You really didn’t have to, I had the snacks all set up and planned out, but I’m ever so touched you did! Oh, these will make the perfect addition.”

“They have to cool first, Jask.” Eskel had a very knowing twinkle in his eye as he stepped around the bard, going to place the flat pan on a rack he had set up on the table. “I’ll bring them down when they’re ready, then you can have one.”

Jaskier pouted, eyeing the pastries and wondering if it was worth burning both his fingers and his tongue on them. Which, yes, it was, but he’d rather not disappoint the pastry chef. So he deflated with a deep sigh, content in knowing that he’d get some later - and that Eskel very much did not forget about his plans.

Vesemir was next on his list, and it only took one single stop by his office to remind him. All Jaskier had to do was knock on his door and wait patiently for Vesemir to say he could come in, then he poked his head in to see if he’d be joining them.

“I’ll be there.”

That’s all the answer Jaskier got, and he considered it good enough. With him checked off the list, there was only two left, and they would thankfully be easy to locate this evening. They weren’t usually - well, Lambert by himself was. But any time Aiden was joining them for the winter Lambert was made scarce, always off doing something with his dear friend, and that something was usually mischief.

Aiden was a wonderful and a horrid influence on Lambert, and everyone adored him for it. Most of the time. 

Luckily, Jaskier already knew where they were. He’d heard their training all the way in the keep and made his way to the training grounds, stopping by Geralt’s room to steal one of his coats on his way, not willing to face the cold with his own considering Geralt’s were much warmer (even if much less fashionable - had the man never heard of color?).

As it happened, they’d just recently stopped their training session - luck considering how long they’d go some evenings. Both of them had abandoned their shirts at some point, maybe even right at the start of their training, though Jaskier wasn’t sure how either of them could stand it when the snow in some places came up to his shins.

Stupid sexy witchers. It was entirely unfair. Both the cold resistant part and the sexy part. 

“Hey, little songbird.” Aiden stretched his arm back and rested it against his shoulder, dangling his sword behind him and watching as Jaskier’s eyes followed the movement. “S’time already?”

With his mouth suddenly quite dry, and what with his feet suddenly not knowing how to walk in snow, Jaskier had to stumble out some sort of an answer. Not that he could really hear it, he was paying too much attention to how Aiden flexed his arm just so - damn stupid sexy witchers.

Lambert laughed at him without a single ounce of pity, and if Jaskier’s brain wasn’t currently melting he would have pointed out that the same damn tricks worked on him if Aiden wanted them to. At least Aiden took some pity on him after that, heading back to the keep and shooting him a wicked grin as he brushed past him. 

Even with all the snow, it was suddenly a bit too warm for the coat he’d nabbed.

But that - that was everyone. Jaskier shook himself, a wide grin blooming on his face, the cold air biting at his cheeks and nose. Everyone was headed to the mess hall, the snack tables and punch were all ready. Eskel had been kind enough to make some of his apple pastries which would be a big hit. And! Jaskier had procured enough lubricant that they wouldn’t all be regretting it come the morning.

He rubbed his hands together as he turned around, hurrying back to get to the mess hall himself. This, without a single doubt, was his best idea yet - and hands down a night that he would always remember. 

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au 6

Heads up at the top this one is our “Last Wish Special”. It’s extra long and what should be no surprise to anyone- Jaskier does not have a good time! Please take care of yourselves as we move into plot territory.

Part 1   Part 5 Inspired by @spielzeugkaiser art here And Also now on Ao3 cause that’s probably easier for everyone.

Sometimes, when Geralt got hurt, he’d use his shapes against him.

Help was the word he’d use. To help him. But if Geralt preferred to think of him using his shapes against him then so be it.

“Get off me Jaskier.”

He looked down his snout at Geralt and grumbled his reply before returning to his composing. They would at very least wait until the bleeding stopped to ride back. Since Geralt insisted the injuries were not so grievous as to require proper attention.

He might very well have been right about that. Which meant they could afford to wait for it to stop before returning for the reward.

If Geralt wanted to treat his wounds then he’d let him. But he wasn’t going to let him ride off and make everything worse because he was a stubborn ass. That was Jaskier’s job. Being a stubborn ass. Not that he made a habit of being farm animals. The risk it would sour him to the taste of their meat was far too great. He refused to be vegetarian. Grass just did not taste very good. No matter what Roach claimed.

“Jaskier get off me or I will throw you off.”

He shifted more of his near 400 pound weight onto Geralt’s torso to demonstrate exactly what he thought about that.

“I can.” He growled.

He puffed up his fur telling him exactly what would happen if he tried.

He had bigger forms yet. If that’s how he wanted to play- well. He wouldn’t bet on Geralt winning. Witcher enhancements be damned.

Geralt, seemingly having realized this, ceased his struggling and ventured a new tactic.

Insulting him.

Which got him grumbling and growling at Geralt. But didn’t get him off him. Geralt knew well enough what he was saying. He didn’t need to transform to express his displeasure.

Geralt, a versatile and clever man, switch tactics yet again.

Reciting history facts but slightly wrong- the year was 1123 and he was a duke not a prince Geralt- asking questions about agriculture – cereal crops deplete the soil of nitrogen. Legumes fix this. A fallow field is left for weeds and grazing. The three fields are rotated. Together this system allows farmers to plant more crops and increase production. – and finally just asking him to play for him.

He, personally, admitted that his bear vocals left something to be desired but he didn’t let that stop him from belting out a few heavily modified versions of his favorite tunes.

Geralt covered his ears and glared at him.

It was only after three verses of Fishmonger’s daughter that he finally popped down into his human shape to do the finale justice.

Geralt shoved him off breaking his sustained note.

“Rude.” He squawked from the dirt as Geralt stood.

“I stopped bleeding three songs ago!” He growled at him.

“I’m well aware.” He grinned. “But I do so enjoy a captive audience.”

Geralt threw the bedroll at his head. Which did hit him. But he managed to catch it on the rebound, which counted as a win in his books.

“I don’t need you mothering me bard.”

“Is that what you think this is? I’m trying to keep Nenneke from murdering me next time you need her services. The woman terrifies me Geralt.”

She did. A little. Not in the way he suspected she expected to be feared though.

It was because her eyes always held too many questions about why he’d arrived before Geralt, knowing exactly the condition of the man’s wounds, even though he lacked a horse while Geralt road in on Roach.

He’d fly ahead, unhampered by the twisting of the roads, and set them to prepare for Geralt’s arrival. Or, when the situation was far graver, have them send a cart to meet him. Transforming on the road just outside of the temples view.

His skin itched when she stared at him too long. Like she almost knew what he was and if she watched him closely enough she might figure it out.

Luckily, “I mean the woman already hates me Geralt.” She was easy to annoy into not looking closely. “No need to worsen her to me by damaging the one reason she even tolerates my presence at the temple.”

If all she wanted to see was an airheaded flop of a bard that was all he would show her. Staying within the confines of expectations worked well enough to keep people from digging.

“She does hate you.” Geralt agreed with a smirk. Pleased he’d befriended someone Jaskier had not.

“Naaaah deep down she likes me.”

Geralt bobbed his head, half conceding the point.

People were complicated like that. She hated Most of him. But she liked that he cared about Geralt. Even if she didn’t always agree with how he cared about Geralt.

With how they cared for each other.

So maybe he shouldn’t have poked the insomniatic bear that was Geralt as he dredged up the lake at Rinde. But he was a bear often enough and he didn’t mind being poked. Sometimes Geralt needed to buck up and face his problems head on!

Then his throat started closing.

Which was scary. Sure. But there were plenty of forms that didn’t need his throat to breath. He’d play catfish or pike or bream or – he was just listing fish again- something while Geralt sorted out the curse the djinn smacked him with.

Except.

Except none of them would come.

He tried to shift bigger and his skin pulled too tight like it was yanking away from the muscle and he tried to shift down and his organs compressed in his chest. And he was left folded over in pain from his throat and his lungs and from being trapped.

Trapped in one form. Perhaps forever.

“Can you shift?” Geralt asked him, looking between him and Roach. Debating.

He managed a ragged sob that Geralt translated as the ‘no’ it was.

There was the bumpy ride on Roach- poor girl they weighed far too much together- and the elf with the painkillers – which helped a little. But the world continued its painful descent into darkness.

Geralt was scruffing him by the doublet. Dragging his limp form. Somewhere. He liked being scruffed. It reminded him of the old mouser in the kitchen who’d claimed him as kin when he was barely a boy. Whenever he got in trouble, or was lonely, or scared he’d just run to the old tom and pop down into a kitten. Instantly be scruffed and pulled under the cabinet for a bath and cuddle.

Scruffing meant that soon everything would be okay. He was in pain and terrified but soon. Soon everything would be alright.

 Everything was not alright.

There was a very scary woman with an amphora on her belly and-

And she was a mage.

A powerful mage.

Something in him was singing. Singing at her notice. Her attention.

He didn’t much like that part of him.

His knees near buckled under him as she gripped his nethers and pressed a knife to his throat.

“If you want to keep all you have familiar,” She squeezed him tighter. The singing and terror crescendo-ing in his ears. What do you want me to be? It sung, heart racing in his chest. “Make a damn wish.”

He reached. Reached for. Something. Some shape that would get her away. Small or big or cute or monsterous or something.

Her magic threw him to the floor and it crackled over his skin- she wants you to be human so that is what you shall be – lighting up every nerve with delicious power – do as she says. So that the powerful one might keep you – and burning the tapestry of thread he didn’t know was woven underneath his skin.

“Make your damn wish! Do it now!”

This one is better. Powerful. Be what she wants. “I don’t- I don’t know!” Lightning ran through his veins and fire blazed through his chest and- and- Be her’s. Wish to be hers. Exalted one.

He didn’t want that.

“I wish very much to leave this place forever!”

She turned from him, the burning fading. The singing loud in his ears. Scolding, screaming, begging him to go back to her as he scrambled from the building.

And Geralt was there.

Geralt was alive.

Geralt left him to that witch.

“Jaskier. You’re okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that you give a monkey’s about it.” He fumed.

The singing was quieter now. The smoldering in his chest easing next to Geralt-

Geralt was going back inside.

The building collapsing.

“She could not have survived it.” The elf from earlier- Chireadan- said.

There was coldness in the shape of the lightning flowing through his veins. Ashes in the stitching of his soul where Geralt once resided.

“Why did Geralt go in there? It doesn’t make any sense. What, to save a mad fucking witch?”

“Because she was magnificent.”

She was. The song wept.

His knees hit the ground, the pain of the gravel collision distant, over the shapeless void that pulled him to nothing.

“What am I supposed to do now, hm?” What would be left when this form collapsed into the emptiness in his chest? “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

You should have died with him.

No.

“I’m gonna write you. The best song. So that everyone remembers who you were, what we did, everything we saw.” There was a lifetime there. In the spaces they shared. Not a human lifespan perhaps. But it wasn’t like he was human anyway. “And I will sing it. For the rest of my days.”

“He always said I had the most wonderful singing voice.”

A joke. Between him and a dead man.

If he wanted to correct him he should have stayed alive.

Chireadan knelt before him, laying a hand on his shoulder. A tiny beat of comfort in a symphony of pain.

“They’re alive.”

They were very alive.

He ran his fingers down Roach’s neck, unsure how he was supposed to feel.

Relief that Geralt was alive? Jealously that he’d gone to Yennefer? Jealously she choose him over you?

Anger?

Joy?

Hollow. He felt hollow.

Roach nudged him.

He was nearly draped over her.

He wanted that old tom cat to scruff him and pull him under the cabinet. To lick and squish and purr him back to whole.

What would he be if he shifted now?

Nothing. It called to him that nothing.

Nothing wasn’t a shape. Nothing wasn’t Jaskier. Jaskier wasn’t nothing.

Still it called to him.

Roach lipped at a saddlebag. The one he’d nested in as his wing healed.

He shoved his bloody shirt in as a makeshift nest and fluttered in.

If Geralt wanted his peace he could dump him on the side of the road.

Until then. He breathed in the way the leather bag blended Roach and Geralt into itself and fell asleep.

 He drifted back to the shores of sleep welcomed by the gentlest smoothing of his feathers.

He readjusted, further nesting into the callouses of Geralt’s hand.

“I thought.” The pain in Geralt’s hesitating voice forced his eyes open. “That the djinn took your voice and your shifting from you.”

Geralt was laying down on their bedroll watching him with those big sad eyes. Which hurt.

But not as much as the fact Geralt had stopped petting him. He shifted into Geralt’s petting hand demanding he get back to work with a sharp chirp.

Geralt resumed his gentle stroking, lips twitching slightly upward. “So bossy.” He complained.

They laid there as the sun went down; quiet and exhausted.

“We used to do this a lot. When your wing was broken. It was nice.”

He softly trilled an agreement.

“I could smell you on Roach when I got back you know? I thought you had left. I understand if you’d left. After what I did.”

He blinked tiredly at Geralt before standing to shift up. He didn’t want to have this conversation now but if Geralt did then. Well then they’d have it now.

“Don’t.” Geralt’s hands shifted slightly, like they were caging him in. They weren’t. He knew he could get out. Knew that if he wanted to leave Geralt would let him.

He settled back into Geralt’s fingers, more than happy not to.

“Tonight. Can we be that again? Just for tonight.”

Be simple. Be easy.

Nenneke always scolded Geralt for thinking he could deny destiny. Because she cared about him and knew destiny would have her way, willingly or not. It would he agreed. Geralt couldn’t run away from her forever.

But he did help him run away from it. Sometimes. Like tonight?

Tonight destiny could go fuck itself.

Tonight they were just a bird and a man sharing each other’s company.

Tonight they were easy.

[iboughtaplant]

Follow Your Arrow (or You’ll Never Know What You’re Missing)

Prompt: Childhood Friends 

Relationship: Geralt/Renfri

Rating: T

Warnings: no warnings apply

Summary: Geralt: I can handle myself. I am a Witcher. Renfri: And that [insert monster here] was coming at you from behind and I took care of it before it ripped your throat out

Here is my third fic for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s head whipped up to look around, he had heard the slightest rustling in the underbrush behind him. He turned his head around to look right when an arrow zipped past his face and landed solidly in the center of the makeshift target hanging from a tree branch.

“You almost hit me,” Geralt grunted.

“I thought you were supposed to have quicker reflexes than that, or did those mutations do nothing?” A voice said. Geralt groaned in annoyance.

A few moments later, a girl of about sixteen, the same age as Geralt—who had undergone his Witcher mutations several months earlier—walked out from behind the bushes, bow in hand and a quiver of arrows on her back.

“Aren’t there other people you can terrorize, Renfri?” Geralt asked.

“Why would I want to when you’re my favorite person to terrorize? It’s what best friends do, they terrorize each other.”

“I think you have a skewed idea of what friendship is,” Geralt said, the small smile on his face a contradiction to his words.

“Well everyone tells me I’m crazy,” she said as she walked closer and slung an arm around Geralt’s shoulders, standing slightly on her tiptoes to do so.

“You’re not crazy, Ren,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

He knew that Renfri was going to reply with something self-deprecating disguised as something  humorous, so he changed the subject before she could continue.

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

Geralt and Renfri had met when they were both young teenagers. Renfri had run away from Creyden and found her way to Kaedwen and eventually Kaer Morhen. She hadn’t expected that the Witchers would help her, but she did have quite a bit of coin she stole before she fled. And it turned out that Witchers, at least the Wolf Witchers she met, where a lot kinder than stories of them led one to believe.

Her friendship with Geralt wasn’t instantaneous in any way, but she felt drawn to him when she met him. He was quiet and only talked to a couple other witcher trainees that he had grown close to. He was also kind and strong and he didn’t shy away from her just because she was a girl.

Their friendship really started when Geralt caught her in the armory taking a bow off the wall where it hung. He could have told his teachers and gotten her in trouble, but instead he helped her sneak out and silently set up makeshift targets for her to shoot.

A few days later, Vesemir arranged for her to join the archery lessons of the trainees a few years younger than Geralt. Apparently Geralt had asked his favorite instructor to see if Renfri could focus on archery since she already excelled at it.

Renfri proved her ability within the first day, when she out shot all the trainees in the class. She also proved to be leagues better than Geralt and even some of the older witchers. She really was gifted with a bow and arrow.

Despite being an awful shot himself, Geralt would get a bow for himself and practice with her. It always ended in laughter from Renfri as Geralt’s arrows went wide or missed the target completely.

“Hey, Geralt, have you ever tried archery blindfolded?” Renfri asked.

“Um, I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Why not, at least that way you wouldn’t know what you were missing.” Renfri said, trying to hold in her laughter.

Geralt sighed in defeat.

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

Some years later, when Geralt and the rest of his cohort were ready to head out on the Path, Renfri was pissed when she realized Geralt had set off without her. He had promised that she would go with him whenever he left and yet he left her behind and didn’t even say goodbye, the coward.

She knew that he had qualms about having a companion on the Path since it wasn’t something witchers really did, but he had promised and Geralt had never before broken a promise to her.

After breakfast, when she realized Geralt had left, she ran back to her quarters and dressed in traveling clothes and light armor before packing all of her things into a bag.

She slung her bag and her quiver on her back and grabbed her bow in her hand and set off down the stairs and through the corridors. Along the way, she came across Vesemir, who raised an eyebrow in question.

“Geralt left,” she said.

“He did,” Vesemir confirmed, “this morning at first light.”

“Without telling me,” she said bitterly.

“I see, well he shouldn’t have gotten too far yet, only a couple hours ahead of you, and we both know he is sure to rest that horse sooner rather than later.”

“You won’t stop me?”

“I don’t think I have ever been able to stop you from doing anything.”

“Thank you, Master Vesemir.”

The old witcher nodded. “Look out for each other.”

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

There was not supposed to be a forktail this close to the keep. The older witchers, the experienced witchers, had set out a few weeks earlier and cleared them from the trails leading up to Kaer Morhen, but they must have missed this one. Or maybe it had only recently made its way here and took advantage of the lack of other monsters to fight over territory with.

Either way, it meant that Geralt already had to deal with a monster when he hadn’t even fully made it to the Path yet and wasn’t even getting paid for it. But a monster was a monster and it shouldn’t be so close to the keep.

Geralt left Roach where she should be safe. And she was well trained enough—despite not having been on the path either—that she would run if the fighting and danger got too close to her. He then set off in the direction he last saw the forktail to track and then slay it.

Geralt spotted the forktail a few minutes later, but it took a little while to maneuver to get within range to strike. He followed it to a small clearing ringed with trees and blasted Aard at it, sending it back into a tree with a solid thump.

The hit dazed the creature a bit, but it proceeded to rush towards him in attack. He managed to strike it with his silver sword, but it didn’t do much to slow it’s attacks. Geralt tried to retreat, but the forktail followed, flying up in the air where it was quicker and more mobile and then landing to lash out with its spiked tail.

When the forktail was turned away from him, Geralt spun to gain momentum and struck the beast again, this time causing more damage. But the beast still wasn’t close to being dead yet. Geralt was panting with effort and tried to catch his breath. He raised his sword to strike again, when the forktail again took to the air.

Geralt was trying to track its deadly tail while also keeping track of its head, knowing from the stories of older witchers that a forktail bite could be quite nasty. The forktail ended up above him and as much as Geralt tried to put some distance between them, the monster pursued him.

He started to think that he wouldn’t make it out of this fight alive when the forktail shrieked in pain and took to the ground. Geralt looked up to see an arrow through the forktail’s eye. And before he could swing at the weakened monster or wonder who had shot the arrow, another arrow was soaring through the air and sinking itself into the forktail’s wing, and then another swiftly followed, striking into the wound that Geralt had left with his sword earlier.

Knowing he couldn’t split his focus to find the archer, and already having an inkling as to who it was, Geralt took advantage of the forktail’s weakened state to kill it. He went around to the forktsil’s blindspot—caused by its partial blindness due to having an arrow lodged into its eye—and hacked through the neck with his sword, severing its head from its body.

Still panting with the effort and the adrenaline from the fight, Geralt slumped to the ground. He couldn’t think about cutting up the beast for potion ingredients quite yet. He took stock of his body, noting, thankfully, that he was uninjured, just a little bruised.

He then yelled out, “Renfri! You can come out now.”

Renfri emerged from the trees, bow still in her hands. She rushed towards him, not even giving a glance to the forktail. She knelt down next to him, and put her bow to the side, the arrows left in her quiver jostling against each other as she bent closer to look at him.

“You utter asshole, you absolute coward,” she seethed. “You left without me, without even telling me you were leaving.”

“Witchers don’t have companions in the Path. I can handle myself.”

“Oh like you were handling that forktail that would have ripped your throat out if I didn’t shoot it and weaken it? I think “Thank you, Renfri” is the phrase you are looking for.”

“Thank you, Ren.”

“Oh save it,  don’t say it unless you actually mean it.” Her eyes softened a bit then and she asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just some bruises,” he responded.

“Well that’s good.” She then proceeded to launch herself at him and wrestled him to the ground. “Means I can beat you up for being a coward and leaving without telling me and not worry about you keeling over.”

They rolled and tussled on the ground for a bit and Renfri got him on his back again, hands pinned to the ground near his head as she straddled his torso. “I am coming with you. And I am telling, not asking.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He then opened his eyes again and looked up at her. “I would be honored to have you as my traveling companion.”

“Damn right you would,” Renfri said as she let go of his hands and scrambled off of him and got to her feet. She held out a hand and he took it and let her help him up. She then went to pull her arrows out of the forktail’s body. Geralt followed suit and harvested the parts of the body that could be used for potions. He then perfunctorily cleaned his silver sword before returning it to its sheath on his back.

Once he and Renfri were both ready, he led the way back to where he had left Roach. He stashed the various forktail parts in his saddlebags. Before swinging up onto Roach’s back, he looked at Renfri and said, “Thank you for coming after me.”

“Always, you idiot,” Renfri said, punching Geralt in the arm.

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

It had been a few months of being on the Path when they came across a large town that looked like it was preparing for some sort of festival. It looked like every inhabitant was out in the streets, setting up stalls and decorating storefronts. In a patch of empty land, men were setting up tables for arm  wrestling--as the sign they put on one of the tables informed, and further in the distance, targets for  archery and axe throwing were also put in place.

As they walked a little further they saw a table set up and someone taking down the names of those wishing to enter in the events.

“Geralt, come on, I have to enter. We both know I will win and then we will have enough coin to fix Roach’s saddle.”

“I fixed her saddle.”

“Yes, with an old scrap of leather you fastened with a buckle from a saddle bag.  It’s really holding up,” Renfri said sarcastically. “We need a real leather worker. Face it, it’s not your strong suit.”

“It’ll hold until the next town.”

“Stupid witcher never wanting to let anyone help you,” Renfri muttered. She then rounded on Geralt. “Why can’t you just admit that you know I will win that contest and that we could use the coin no matter how we acquire it? Just because you’re a full-fledged witcher now doesn’t mean you have to act  like a brooding asshole. I thought we at least had a couple decades before that happened.”

“Ren, wait—”

“No. I’m entering the archery contest and enjoying the festival. You can stay or leave, I don’t really care.” With that, Renfri slipped into the bustling market of the town, and Geralt lost where she went. She was the one person he could never track accurately and the one person he wished to always know the whereabouts of. But she knew him better than he knew himself and could easily evade him if she wanted to.

Geralt knew that Renfri was his weakness and it was exactly why he didn’t want to rely on her. It was why he set off on the Path without her. But he could admit to himself that he was relieved when she caught up with him and kicked his ass for leaving her behind. The problem was that he didn’t think he would ever be able to admit it to Renfri.

The least he could do was stick around and cheer her on in the archery contest she was dead set on entering. Roach could also use a break, they had been traveling for a while. With that decided, Geralt sighed and led Roach to the closest inn to see about a room and  where to stable Roach.

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

Renfri stalked off into the crowd and headed towards the table with a couple men calling out, imploring people to sign up for the archery contest. And they advertised that the prize for winning was 150 crowns.

Renfri knew that she and Geralt could really use that money and she knew that she could easily win the contest regardless of whoever in this town she might be up against. While she wasn’t a witcher, she had still been trained in Kaer Morhen, not to mention she was a much better shot than most of the witchers she met, Geralt included.

Renfri knew she had lost Geralt in the crowd, and while she hoped he came to find her eventually, she would just catch up with  him in the next town if he didn’t. But she was on a mission now, a mission to further prove her worth. She usually didn’t care what others thought, but Geralt was different, he always was and always would be. He got under her skin in a way no one else did, but she almost enjoyed it.

That was enough thinking about her dolt of a best friend though, she still needed to actually sign up for the contest.

She finally approached the table and slapped down four crowns and twenty or so coppers  she had dug out of her coin purse. It was almost the last of her coin, She had only noticed the sign advertising an entry fee upon getting closer to the table. But, no matter, it was probably a paltry sum in comparison to the prize she would win.

“Hello, gentlemen. I would like to enter the archery contest that is being held.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” one of the men, spectacles on his face, said snidely, “but that is not enough coin to cover the entry fee.”

She was about to ask what the entry fee was exactly since the sign didn’t actually say when a young man came up to the table and the other man seated behind it greeted him and asked for five crowns.

“Well that answers the question I was about to ask, it’s five crowns for entry then? I’ll be back, see what I can scrounge up from my saddle bags. Just need another crown,” she said mostly to herself.

“I apologize, miss, the entry fee is ten crowns.”

“But that kid just paid five crowns. What’re the extra five crowns for?”

“This is usually an event for citizens of the town.”

“Oh really, it’s just because I’m an outsider then? Or do you just need an excuse to bar a woman from entering? Afraid I will win?”

“Unless you can find the coin to make up the rest of the fee, it looks like you won’t find out if you could beat out the other contestants.” The spectacled man said thinking he had had the last word, a smug smile on his face.

A smile that fell off his face a few moments later. Renfri was about to question it when she felt a presence at her back. The subtle creak of leather giving away that it was Geralt. No wonder the spectacled man had gone pale, probably not used to dealing with witchers.

Geralt reached an arm around Renfri and with a gloved hand put down six more crowns next to her four and scooped up the coppers, passing them back to her. She took them and shoved them into her coin purse tied to her belt.

“That’s ten crowns,” Geralt said to the men, “she has enough to enter.”

The men looked like they wanted to protest, but the beginning of a rumbling growl—and what was surely a matching scowl—from the witcher behind her had them thinking otherwise.

The spectacled man took the coin and handed it to the other man before asking for her name to add to the roster.

“I would say it was a pleasure gentlemen, but it wasn’t, so I won’t.” With that she slipped her hand around Geralt’s bicep and pulled him away from the table.

Once they were out of sight and earshot, leaning on the outside wall of an inn, she deflated a little and leaned her head on Geralt’s shoulder and groaned.

She then moved to lean her head back against the wall instead of his shoulder. Looking over to him, she punched him in the arm and said “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself.”

He chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I know you can handle yourself, I never doubted that. But they were assholes and I know that was the last of your coin. I also know that for some reason you care about this contest.”

“But you don’t. You didn’t even want to stop here. And now you have guaranteed that we will be here longer, and lost the last of <em>your</em> coin.”  

“I didn’t lose it,” Geralt said with a smirk.

“Then what do you call using the last of your coin to pay for my entry fee?”

“An investment.”

It was Renfri’s turn to smirk. “You think I’ll win?”

“I know it.” He said, and flashed her a smile that only she ever saw.

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

The parameters of the archery contest were straightforward and fairly simple. Every contestant was tasked with bringing their own bow and arrows since the town didn’t have them to supply everyone with the exact same equipment. Everyone was to shoot five arrows and whoever hit the bullseye the most or hit closest to the bullseye would be the winner.

Renfri was a little upset that the contest was so simple and she wouldn’t be able to show off any trick shots, but nonetheless she was excited. There were still a few hours until the contest, so she and Geralt settled at a table in the tavern. They didn’t have the coin for an inn room, but they did have enough to order a meal to share for lunch.

While they sat and ate, Renfri saw to her bow and arrows. She checked the string of her bow, testing to make sure it was taut and fixed the fletchings on a couple of her arrows that were a little worse for wear.  

Geralt was quiet while she tended to her equipment. After they finished their shared meal, he took out his Gwent deck and shuffled through his cards to have something to do.

“Well that’s the best it’s going to get,” Renfri said in regard to the arrows she mended. She had a mismatched set since it was easy to lose a few on the road, but also easy to scavenge the arrows that were shot at them from time to time.

“We don’t have much longer to wait. It’s supposed to start soon,” Geralt said. “I’m going to check on Roach beforehand.”

“I’m going to head over to the field then, maybe practice a bit,” Renfri said.

“You don’t need practice.” Geralt said.

“But it can’t hurt,” she said as she fastened her leather chest guard around herself and then checked the fastenings on the bracer on her left arm. She then slung her quiver, full of her newly mended arrows, on her back and grabbed her bow off the table.

Geralt put his Gwent cards away and fastened his swords onto his back. They walked out of the tavern together and parted ways in the square, Renfri to the field and Geralt to the stables.

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

When Renfri got to the field where the archery contest was being held, she looked around at her competition, not that any of them seemed like threats to her victory. Most were gathered around talking with a few taking practice shots at bales of hay with crudely painted target rings on them.

She also noted, unsurprisingly, that she was the only woman present, and probably the only outsider as well. The rest of the contestants were men or boys from the town, if the way they all seemed familiar with each other was anything to go by.

Renfri walked over towards the hay bales and stopped when she got to a plank of wood on the ground that marked where to stand to shoot from the proper distance. She ignored the people around and the glances they threw her direction.

Pulling an arrow out of her quiver, Renfri took up her stance behind the plank of wood, her left boot brushing against it. She drew up her bow and nocked the arrow, the fletching brushing her cheek. She took a breath and released the bow string as she exhaled.

The  arrow soared through  the air and penetrated the  hay bale with a thud. It landed just left of the true center, but still well within the center ring. With a self-satisfied smirk on her face she stared at the arrow for a moment. It felt good to shoot at a target just for the hell of it. She had gotten so used to shooting monsters or the occasional bandit, that she sometimes forgot she liked archery just for fun.

A few of the people gathered around actually clapped. It was odd and completely  unexpected, but nice all the same. She gave a cheeky bow before going to collect her arrow from the hay bale.

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

Once everyone that wanted to had taken their practice shots, they moved on to the actual targets instead of hay bales to begin the contest. There were only ten competitors in total and they each had five shots to take. They went in order of how they signed up, so Renfri was close to the end of the lineup but not last, so she was in the second group.

There was a teenaged boy who took note of everyone’s shots by marking them on targets that he drew in the dirt. He would mark an ‘X’ for where each arrow struck.

Watching the first group, Renfri could admit that a few of them were skilled, but only one hit the bullseye, even if a couple others came close. When it was time for the second group to take their first shots, she was more than ready.

Standing on her mark, she peered around the gathered crowd of spectators. She caught sight of what she was looking for at the edge of the crowd. Geralt, standing out in his black armor, had stationed himself out of range of others, but still close enough to watch the contest.

Renfri caught his eye and he smiled at her, it was a slight thing as he didn’t like to smile much in public, but it was still there and it was for her.

When she lined up her shot and nocked her arrow, she closed her eyes. She took a breath and kept her eyes shut as she released her bow string. She heard someone let out a whoop and then opened her eyes, her arrow was lodged right in the bullseye.

The contest continued from there, with both groups taking their shots until everyone had shot five arrows. By the third round, with Renfri being the only one to even shoot three bullseyes, the rest of the contestants seemed resigned that she was going to win. But surprisingly none of them seemed too upset about it. Maybe they were here more for fun and tradition than to win the coin. With a town like this, whoever won probably spent the coin in the various shops in town, so really it all circulated back. With that thought, Renfri vowed to at least buy a round of ale for all of her fellow competitors after she won.

With her fifth and final arrow, Renfri hit the bullseye yet again, although this one was close to the edge of the circle that made up the bullseye. But it didn’t matter she won, like she knew she would. There was a lot of clapping, and Renfri looked back at the crowd, noticing that there were a lot more women watching than there had been when the contest started. The sight warmed something in her, but not as much as the sight and sound of Geralt with his fingers raised to his mouth to whistle through them. He was showing more outward emotion than he usually did and she loved that something she did brought it out.

She made sure all of her arrows were in her quiver, and started to walk towards Geralt, but in her way, she was intercepted by the spectacled man from earlier who politely handed her a purse full of coin. “Your prize, miss. It was well earned.”

She wanted to say something, but the man walked away before she could even utter a thank you.

On her way to Geralt, she passed the boy who had kept track of everyone’s shots and presented him with the arrow that hit the bullseye on her final shot. The boy looked delighted and thanked her before running off to show his friends.

Renfri finally reached Geralt where he was still standing on the fringes of the crowd. “So how did I do?” She asked.

“I’ve seen better,” he said with mock nonchalance.

“It’s only better when I’m saving your ass, huh?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he hummed.

“Well dinner is on me tonight and you can tell Roach that she will have a repaired saddle soon.”

Renfri started walking back towards the tavern they had been in earlier, but Geralt grabbed her arm. In a low voice, only for her to hear, he said, “thank you.”

“For winning us enough money to last us at least a month? No problem,” she chuckled. “If only contracts were that easy, huh?”

“Not just for that, Ren. Thank you...for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, you dork. But be careful, if you keep showing your soft side, other people  might catch on.”

[princess-of-riviaa]

Bewitching the Witcher

Summary: You and The Witcher aren’t meant to be together. In fact, the only thing you two should be doing is getting as far away from each other as fast as you can. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t. But he’s just too tempting to resist.

Authors note: Alternate universe (?) where women can be Witcher’s too, but all Witcher’s are forbidden from having romantic relationships. Also, I know up to this point i’ve written purely for fictional boys from books, but my Geralt of Rivia feels are consuming me. I’m considering writing for fictional characters from all source, including TV shows and movies, not just books.

Warnings: public sex, swearing, violence, 18+

The life of a Witcher was a lonely one. It was better that way. If you were all you had, then you didn’t have to worry about anything more than monster hunting. You’d been a lone wolf since you could remember and actually preferred it that way.

You spent most of your days traveling through the mountains of Mahakam. There were plenty of werebbubs to kill for gold there, and the iron forges were the best in the land, so you were always upgrading your swords and daggers for the next best thing.

Your life was simple. Until the day Geralt of Rivia came along.

...

You hated him. There wasn’t a single thing you two could agree on. Whether it was as superficial as what to hunt for breakfast or something as big as deciding to take a certain quest to kill whatever monster needed killing that week. Hell, you got along with Jaskier better than you did with Geralt, though that was probably because the bard was too terrified of you to disagree with anything you said.

Geralt, on the other hand... Geralt seemed to have some weird gratification in arguing with you, almost like he got something out of it. Your bickering would almost always turn to screaming matches and you could see a strange little gleam in his eyes every time. And when your valid points would turn to straight up insults, the twitch in the corner of his mouth instantly made your thoughts turn to something a lot more intimate.

You couldn’t understand why Geralt got off on arguing with you, but you couldn’t deny that seeing him turned on had an affect on you. When his eyes went dark, your nipples hardened. When he growled at you in that low voice, you got wet. When his hand wrapped tightly around your wrists seconds before you’d punch him in the face, you imagined how it would feel to have him rip your clothes off and fuck the life out of you.

There was only one problem: witchers were forbidden from lying together. It was something about the magic inside of every Witcher. Something about it coming into contact with itself had lethal effects. That was why most Witchers hunted alone and not in packs. The magic in your veins willed you to keep your lives separate. Befriending other Witchers was frowned upon, but having sex with one was... It wasn’t an option.

So whatever fire you felt when you and Geralt argued would just have to be ignored. That was the best option. For everybody.

...

Your plan to keep your distance from Geralt went to hell the night a berserker came to town. Jaskier, Geralt, and you had just arrived in a southern city in Aedirn. Roach had just been locked up in a stable for the night when two old men came up to Geralt and you. They cried and screamed over the horrors of a wild berserker running rampant throughout the city and nearby towns. With a quick warning for Jaskier to keep himself busy, you and Geralt were off.

The berserker was hiding in the forest on the outskirts of the city. Tracking the wild beast was simple enough, but fighting it was harder. If Geralt had been any weaker, or you any slower, one or both of you could have been hurt. Or worse. But it only took a handful of minutes to behead the beast.

This was your favorite part about hunting: the ecstasy that rushed through once the kill had been made. You caught your breath and took in the sight of Geralt. He stood just feet away, his eyes still pitch black from the potion he’d chugged down on your way here. With the beast’s guts spilled all over him, the black eyes, and his heaving chest struggling to move as he caught his breath, he looked... animalistic. You had no doubt that you looked just as bad.

The sight of him like this always made you doubt your willpower. It was times like this, when you saw The Witcher and not the human Geralt pretended to be in society, when your want for him became desperate and impossible to ignore.

He watched you watching him. His eyes never left your face. You knew he wanted you just as badly right now. You could sense the lust pouring off of him.

You stalked towards him, your eyes never leaving his face, and you basked in the warmth you felt from watching his eyes stay frozen to the sway of your hips, hypnotized.

“You want me.” It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need to ask. You already knew the answer. “Just as badly as I want you.”

His lust was written all over his face, and you were sure the only thing keeping him from ripping your clothes off and fucking you until tomorrow was the fact that he didn’t dare to move a muscle, not even to breathe. Perhaps he thought if he didn’t move then he could talk himself out of pushing you away.

“I want this,” you whispered once the distance between you two was gone.

“I want these off.” Your fingers moved towards his pants and slowly unbuttoned the first clip; your eyes never left his black ones.

You brushed your mouth over his ear and whispered, “I want you growling in my ear as my body writhes beneath you.”

You finally unbuttoned the last clip on his pants, just in time to notice the hard bulge that had barely been concealed beneath them.

You pressed your hand against his cock and began to touch him over his underwear. “I want this hard and throbbing for me.”

He let out a sigh that sounded very much like a moan and you smiled.

You kissed the side of his neck, just below his ear. He growled softly. It was just low enough for you to hear it, but it made your toes curl anyways. “I want your cock inside of me, deep enough so I can feel every inch of you.”

“Y/N.” His low voice was half-warning, half-plea.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. With your eyes locked, you grabbed his hands and brought them up to clasp your breasts. “I want you to touch every part of me until I come undone.”

The black of his pupils was beginning to fade. The gold color returned, though now you could see the desire in them, clear as the day.

His hands began to move on their own, massaging your breasts over your clothes. You closed your eyes in pleasure as your nipples hardened. You wanted to memorize what this felt like. You never wanted to forget what his hands on your body did to you.

“I want you to mark me as yours,” your murmured, stealing the last of his self-control.

He kissed you before you could even get your entire sentence out. It felt just as you imagined it would. It was a kiss that you felt down to your toes, a kiss so deep and lustful that you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you tighter against him. Your hands moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your fingers tugged at the root of his pale-white locks. He released a groan against your mouth. The sound of him made you even wetter than you already were and you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for any kind of pressure.

Geralt pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. He searched your face, looking for something. “Y/N--”

“I know.” You brought a hand to the side of his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, his nose, his bottom lip. You knew what he was going to say. But you didn’t want to hear it anymore. Fuck the dangers of lying with another witcher. You wanted Geralt badly enough to die for him.

And he must have seen that in your eyes, on your face, because he kissed you again. This kiss was different. He didn’t kiss you like he was starved and you were a five-course meal, but rather like he could spend the rest of his life doing just this. That thought alone sent more heat coursing through your body.

You pressed your thighs together again, needing something. He must have sensed your desperation because he nudged your legs apart with his knee. Once you complied, his thigh moved to press against your pussy. That was when you realized how wet you already were. You felt your desire stain your pants and your underwear and begin to drip onto Geralt’s thigh. Your body moved without you telling it to, your hips rocking up and down against the muscles in his leg, and you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he muttered before his mouth trailed down your neck, to your collarbone, and he began untying your shirt.

Your fingers were still wrapped in his hair and you gave an involuntary tug when his mouth met your bare chest. He growled against your skin and you felt him grow hard against you, his cock pressing into your stomach.

“Geralt,” you whimpered. “Please... I need you...” You could take it slow another time. Right now you needed to feel him inside of you.

He seemed to understand what you needed without you having to say a word. In a flash he’d ridden you of your pants and, with his mouth still on your skin, he backed you two up until he hit a tree. You didn’t have a chance to say anything before he had lifted you up by the backs of your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. He lowered himself to the ground.

Now that you were sitting on his lap you could feel every part of him: the impenetrable strength in his thighs; the thick, hard muscles on his stomach; and the hard, impossibly thick length of his erection pressed against your pussy. You moaned at the pleasure you felt, imagining how much better it would feel to have him inside of you, fucking up into you.

Again, your hips moved of their own accord. You moved back and forth against him, teasing both of you. He let out another growl as his mouth attacked your right breast, kissing and sucking around the nipple until it was erect. He massaged your other breast with his hand, pinching your nipple between his fingers, and the pleasure was so intense that you almost came right then.

You ran your hand over the length of him before lowering his underwear just enough for his cock to spring free. It was bigger than you had thought it would be. You pulled back from Geralt to gawk at the size of it. You’d never seen a man so big before. But then again, you’d never been with a Witcher.

“I need to be inside of you,” he grunted against your mouth as you bent to kiss him again. You needed him inside of you, too.

Rising to your knees, you grabbed his length and moved it along your slick folds.

His fingers dug into your hips, warning you not to tease him right now. The desperate look in his face--the darkness in his eyes and his parted mouth--set you on fire. You couldn’t take anymore teasing, either. So you pressed his tip against your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, lowered yourself onto him.

The vast size of his cock forced you to both be patient. It took you a long minute before you had adjusted to his size and could fit more of him inside of you. Your walls clenched tightly, painfully, against him and you whimpered into his neck. He brought one hand up to your back, careful not to move his hips as he tried to comfort you.

“Am I hurting you?” He murmured, worry in his voice.

You nodded against his neck and breathed in the scent of him. “Yes. But I like it when you hurt me.”

Once you were finally able to fit all of him, you began rocking your hips in a slow movement. Having him inside of you was better than hunting, better than killing, better than fucking breathing.

Your walls tightened around him as he grasped your hips again, moving you at a pace that pleased him. All you could do was hold onto him as his cock moved inside of you. The world was silent save for his grunts and your whimpers.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warned as he picked up the speed yet again.

“Geralt,” you cried into his neck, holding onto his shoulders as you moved together.

Your walls tightened even more around him. He quickened the pace, helping you reach your orgasm.

He found your mouth again and kissed you hard. You moaned into his mouth as you came around his cock. Your vision blurred and all you knew, all you could think was: Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.

You hadn’t realized you’d been screaming his name until you stopped, only for him to cum inside of you a second later. You whimpered as he filled you up with his seed.

Only once he’d put his cock back in his pants were you able to regain control of yourself enough to open your eyes. You stayed there, straddling his lap, as your fingers traced the sharp lines and dips of his face. He closed his eyes, content to let you touch him.

“Nothing’s ever going to satisfy me again,” he mumbled. “Not after that.”

You bent down to kiss him, and with a knot in your stomach that was full of both dread and hope, you knew he was right.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There was a prompt by @frances-the-red:

Oh no! Geralt lost his engagement ring! 😱 What happened and how is the godling Hansi involved? (Just a silly little prompt if you ever become bored. Love your writing! 🧡)

I changed the engagement ring to wedding ring because there has never actually been an engagement, let’s just say that’s not a Nilfgaard custom ;) Also, I changed Hansi to the more common Johnny. I think nobody will understand the joke anyway and English-speaking gamers just know him by this name. Hansi is his name in the german dubbing (which is the same as Johnny) and that happens to be the name of my favorite Heavy Metal singer, too. And I love that you prompted me with it :)

One last thing: I had to alter the outcome of a specific Witcher 3 quest for this. Usually, Sarah only meets Johnny if you throw her out of the house where Corinne meets her. So for this story, let’s just assume it went a bit different. 

Enough babbling! This one is called “A seeker enthralled by a flame” (Avantasia lyrics this time), read under the cut or on AO3. 5330 words, rated G.

   The second of waking up, Geralt realized something was fundamentally wrong.

This had nothing to do with the fact that dull rays of the sun shining through the curtains indicated morning was already advanced. Nothing to do with him waking up in a foreign bed. Or that half of his body was hanging out, as if it missed the habit of a much larger bed. All of this was not unusual. So what was it? When his eyes opened, Geralt immediately knew where he was (in Novigrad), what he had been doing the night before (getting drunk with Dandelion and Zoltan out of pure reunion), and why he was here (a contract, of course, and this was a stopover on the way back).

Nothing of all this was wrong. What he could see of the room without moving his head (possibly one too many beers) was normal. A guest room at the Chameleon, furnished with Dandelion's somewhat exuberant taste and clearly refined by Priscilla's hand; fresh flowers and fruit on a sideboard. The fingertips of Geralt's right hand brushed wood. It took him a moment to realize that his arm was hanging out of the bed, touching the floor. The floor felt normal, as did his body, which was slowly waking up and painfully reminding him that he needed to pee.

But he was not ready yet. His mind was still trying to trace this feeling, even if it might well have been only a vague thought from a dream. Lost in thought, he involuntarily began tapping a kind of rhythm on the floor, an odd imitation of what Emhyr did when he became impatient. And then he understood. An ice-cold feeling ran through his abdomen, and the natural need was gone.

The ring was missing.

Hastily Geralt raised his hand, straightening in the bed, bringing his fingers close to his face, staring. His ring finger had a small, light-colored indentation, an imprint that made it even more evident that something was missing. His wedding ring was gone. Against better judgment, Geralt jumped out of bed and carefully examined the floor; he even crawled under the bed, checked every crack, combed the whole room.

It was simply easier to assume that the ring had slipped off his finger (it sat perfectly, he never took it off, not even when he put on gloves and went into battle) than to believe someone had dared to steal it from him. That was ridiculous. Stealing from a witcher? In one of the hottest establishments in town (a fucking wicked, disgusting town full of disgusting subjects, well). Even drunk as he had been last night, that was not possible. Who would dare to enter his room without him noticing (impossible) and pull a ring off his finger?

It was undoubtedly a valuable piece, but the silver... Geralt's eyes immediately darted to the wall next to the bed, although he had long known what he would see. The swords were still there, leaning neatly against the wall in their scabbards.

That didn't make any sense. Who would steal a ring when there were two swords whose common material value was significantly higher? Indeed, the blades were almost unsaleable – no merchant in his right mind would buy witchers' swords, especially those whose engraved runes were more than clearly traceable to the owner. Nevertheless, Geralt hurriedly began to check the rest of his equipment. The armor, the saddlebags... everything was there; nothing was missing.

Geralt sat down on the bed, resting his slightly aching skull on his hands. Had he perhaps lost the ring during the evening? Or – even worse – had he, in a frenzy, agreed to use the piece as a prize in a game of Gwent? He was notorious (well, in the eyes of a certain man at least) for occasionally doing idiotic things, but Geralt thought something like that was out of the question.

Besides, he didn't want to imagine that possibility because it would have meant that, in a few days, he would have had to confront his husband to tell him he had lost the ring. The symbol of their love come true, the flame that he always carried with him like the one in his heart....

"Silly. And you're hyperventilating."

There wasn't really a voice in his head, but he could imagine it very well (and that was very close to what Emhyr would actually say before he found out the ring was gone). Besides, the voice was right. Geralt took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. If the idea of being robbed seemed absurd, at least there was a way to find out if it was valid. All he had to do was focus on possible clues in the room. However, that was easier said than done; after all, he was in Novigrad, in a much-frequented house – supposedly the most popular in the whole city. Looking for traces in this room was like telling a dog to search through a massive pile of shit to find out if his best friend had been there.

The same was true for the smell. However, chance aided him – this room didn't seem to be used quite as often. Perhaps Dandelion indeed did keep it only for friends at all times, or maybe he exaggerated his establishment's popularity. In any case, most of the traces and smells that Geralt's senses picked up were older and not of concern. Quite clearly, his own smell still hung in the room, an almost visible cloud of alcohol, leather, horse.... well, he had arrived only a few hours before. But there was something else. More like a hunch that someone else had actually been here – a kind of whiff, an indefinable but strangely familiar smell, as if he had sensed it once before, and a tiny trail of footsteps, as delicate as if that had been just a ghost. But a ghost would have left no visible traces at all.

Even these were almost impossible to see, smell or feel. It was strange, but at least a better explanation than that he had simply lost the ring. Still, what creature would have managed to pull the thing off his finger and disappear with it completely without a sound and almost without a trace? There was only one way to find out, and, if possible, before anyone saw him without the ring. Now it didn't seem like such a good idea that he had presented it so openly (because he was damn proud of it).

Geralt left the Chameleon like a suitor who had fallen asleep over his secret lover – very quietly. No one was awake yet anyway. He disappeared without a message, which was not that unusual, and sneaked out through the back exit. It was challenging to follow the delicate breeze on the streets and impossible to make out the tracks anymore. Almost as if the thief had fled across the rooftops – a not so unlikely possibility. Besides, the city itself stank of all the shit that places like these stink of: too many people and their numerous vices.

His motivation was high (if not desperate), so his focus was tremendous. The sight of a witcher trudging through Novigrad with a grim expression on his face, looking neither left nor right, was not common even here. As so often, his reputation preceded him, and if he had bothered to look into the eyes of the people who hurriedly avoided him, he probably could have guessed which of the numerous things said about him they were most likely to believe. He didn't care anyway. Geralt followed the fleeting trail of a breeze mixed with so many smells that it became almost impossible to keep track of it.

Twice he lost it, once he almost lost his nerve, and yet he held on convulsively to that one delicate scent. It led him out of the city, which was good; it would be easier to track now. Only briefly did he give up following the scent because, outside the city gate, he was sure to find it again. The trail led directly away from the main road, which didn't surprise him. The brazen thief surely had not been interested in encountering any guards. So he unhitched his horse from the capable businessman who had recently started running a livery stable near the entrance.

/

*//////{<>==================-

\

   It went cross-country, over meadows and fields, which Geralt had to ride around as a precaution if he did not want to incur the farmers' wrath, and he lost valuable time, but never the trail. Whoever had taken the ring had been nimble, and they were several hours ahead of him. But he wondered where this would lead. The ring had hardly been stolen by a magpie that had flown into its nest with it. So why through the countryside and into the forest? Maybe the thief just wanted to hide and wait because there was no direct way to the next town from here, and Geralt still considered it doubtful that it would be possible to sell the ring, just like the swords. However, some crazy collectors paid a fortune for witcher's memorabilia. Maybe there was a black market for his wedding ring. This was such a monstrous thought that he already imagined what he would do to the thief if….

Geralt stopped as if rooted to the spot. The scent ceased here, in a small clearing of beech trees, in the middle of a meadow, sprinkled with daisies and wild herbs. He had been leading Roach on the reins for quite a while because the forest had become too dense. Now he let go, patted her briefly, and whispered to her to be good and stay put, which earned him a snort that sounded almost contemptuous.

The trail might end here, but that didn't mean he had lost it. He perceived a presence that was trying to hide, but... Geralt looked up.

"Johnny," he said. "You can come down now."

Up there, perched in a treetop, sat the reason why the smell had appeared familiar to him from the very beginning. He had just not been able to assign it to the little godling immediately. In fact, Geralt had not expected to see him again at all.

"I don't want to," resounded a pitched voice from above.

"I can imagine, but I'd rather you come down. My neck hurts from staring up."

"That's old age."

"I'm sure you know something about that," Geralt replied patiently. "Come down now. I want to ask you something."

Johnny grumbled, and he played coy for a few more seconds, but he seemed to realize that he would not escape the witcher just by hiding in the tree. So he climbed down the bark as nimbly as a squirrel, but when he reached the ground, he still kept some distance.

"Long time no see, witcher," he chirped, though also with a certain mistrust – which, in Geralt's opinion, he had good reason to feel.

"Johnny, you know it's dangerous for you to show yourself outside," Geralt began carefully.

The little one grimaced.

"I'm careful. Besides, sometimes it's pretty boring to just sit inside all the time."

"You promised to watch Corinne – and Sarah, didn't you?"

"And I do! Really!"

Now a genuine smile covered the godling's face, who outwardly and also in many traits almost resembled a child. The smile might have as much to do with his conspecific Sarah as with the sorceress who had taken them in. They could have lived a pleasant life in the wilderness, where they would not have had to hide all the time. But the godling's natural kindness had driven Sarah to return to Novigrad as if she felt a connection with the oneiromancer, and Johnny had gone along. It was certainly not a forever bond, but it seemed to work.

"I'm sure you do," Geralt replied, "But listen.... is it possible you paid me a visit last night?"

Johnny's big eyes had an innocent look.

"Maybe?"

"And did you maybe take something that doesn't belong to you?"

Johnny scratched his head.

"Well, that would depend on how you define property, I guess."

Geralt sighed.

"My ring, Johnny. Why did you steal my ring? And don't even try to deny it. I know you have it in your little pouch."

Involuntarily, the godling's gaze went to the slim bag he carried over his shoulder. There could hardly be a more apparent admission of guilt, and he noticed his mistake immediately.

"Oh, unfair," he complained. "You tricked me. That'll teach me to play with witchers again."

"This isn't a game, Johnny," Geralt said, now noticeably more severe. "Give the ring back."

"Oh, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I need it."

"For what?" sighed Geralt.

"That's a secret," the godling quickly replied.

"Johnny..."

"No, no, I won't be fooled again!"

"I'm sure Corinne doesn't know anything about it. Right? Would she approve?"

"You're not going to rat me out, are you? That's not proper between friends."

Johnny was visibly indignant now.

"It's not proper between friends to steal from each other, either."

The godling sighed.

"Oh, fine. Suppose you don't rat me out! Promise!"

Geralt counted very slowly inwardly to ten before answering, albeit through clenched teeth.

"I promise. So?"

"Well, if you can give anything on a witcher's word of honor.... I'll try to summon Liuba."

Geralt stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Liuba, the goddess of love?"

Johnny nodded eagerly. Geralt narrowed his eyes.

"Listen, I have no idea how this works among you godlings, but if Sarah isn't interested in you in that way, summoning a tricky goddess certainly isn't the best approach..."

"Dumbass. It's not for me," Johnny interrupted him. "It's about Corinne. She's been pretty lonely since she started taking care of us. She doesn't go out much, and even though we've offered to leave, she says she doesn't want us to. As far as we know, there are hardly any mages left in town. It is reasonably safe, but most are suspicious. And Corinne believes that no one who doesn't understand her powers can love her."

"Did she say that?"

Johnny sighed theatrically.

"We're magical beings, witcher. She doesn't have to say anything."

"All right, but... Johnny, you and Sarah are already very rare. Gods are – well, in many cases, just myths. Things made up by humans who found winter too cold and dark. And even if Liuba does exist, she may not be the best choice. According to her legend, she more or less killed a woman who asked her for help. Which technically fulfilled the deal to reunite her with her beloved, who happened to die on the battlefield at the same time."

"Hogwash," the godling replied contemptuously. "I do believe that gods exist. And that they are nothing other than magical beings, just like us. You should understand that, even if your magic is a flyspeck compared to what I can do. That they are myths, yes, that is a merit of the humans, and that's good because otherwise, they would have probably wiped them all out. This way, they've just forgotten many of them."

Annoyed, Geralt blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"All right, let's not argue about the existence of gods. Why does my ring have to be the pledge to call her?"

"It must be a symbol of true love," Johnny said seriously.

"Surely there will be enough love to be found in Novigrad..."

"You don't understand! What do you think I have tried already? Garters, lockets with drawings in them, love letters.... None of it worked. This may be a big city, but true love is rarely found."

"You stole all that?"

The godling shrugged.

"And a lot of wedding rings," he admitted. "But yours is special. There's much stronger magic in that."

"There's no magic in it at all," Geralt objected.

Johnny chuckled.

"You have no idea. There is destiny in true love, and the two combined are a rarity. Your ring radiates that. No wonder you don't realize it. You can't do anything but light fires and make people look elsewhere when you don't like them."

"That's not quite what..."

"That's some magic you don't know a thing about," Johnny continued. "Why you, of all people, have a ring like that is beyond me. There are far more beautiful wedding rings; believe me, I've had enough in my hand. But I haven't seen one that had an engraving like that. Even the metal was chosen with care. Almost all the wedding rings I saw were gold; yours is not."

"But what makes you think you can conjure Liuba here in the wilderness, of all places?"

"Ha, my dear, research!"

Johnny tapped his nose, a strangely touching gesture, even if it was meant to express superiority.

"Corinne had picked up some books so we wouldn't be bored. I honestly believe, secretly, that she genuinely thinks we're like children because of our shape. Well, anyway, one of the books was about local legends in the area. It was not difficult to get to the right place. The book said that some lovers claimed to have seen Liuba there."

"Did the book also say that it was dangerous?" Geralt asked dryly.

"It said that only true love could summon her," the godling replied unaffected. "Otherwise, Liuba would punish the callers. That's why I need your ring, you see."

"Well, let's say I believe all that; what happens if you succeed in calling the goddess with this pledge?" asked Geralt.

"She will accept the gift and fulfill my wish: that Corinne meets the love of her life. You know, she wouldn't have to take care of us. We can do it quite well on our own. But Sarah thinks we make sure her powers don't turn against her. I guess all this dream magic isn't that much fun."

"I can't let that happen," Geralt said seriously.

"What, you don't begrudge Corinne finding someone she loves?" asked Johnny indignantly.

"This isn't about Corinne. You can't give my ring to some goddess. This is my wedding ring, Johnny. It's very important to me."

"Weren't you listening? That's also one reason why it'll be so valuable to Liuba."

"I get it," Geralt replied grimly. "But it's my ring, and you can't have it. You'll have to find something else."

"I told you, I've already tried."

"All right... I'll try. I'll get you a pledge of true love that's just as good."

Johnny grimaced.

"I don't think that's possible."

"You do believe that you can summon a goddess, and I don't think that will work, either with my ring or if we sacrifice a virgin."

"That's barbaric," Johnny said indignantly.

"That's why we're not doing it," Geralt returned irritably. "Listen, you know I could just take that ring off you. But I don't want to hurt you or your, well, religious feelings. So I'm going to help you and get you another love symbol. I'm convinced it doesn't even have to be magical."

"But..."

"You don't even know her legend," Geralt continued. "The woman who summoned Liuba paid with jewelry. Among them was possibly a love pledge, a gift, but that's only part of the ritual, isn't it?"

Johnny nodded slowly.

"Well, there are a few other things required as well, I've already obtained them all, wasn't exactly easy either."

"You mean you stole those too."

"How could I have bought them?" the godling replied innocently. "So, what's your plan?“

/

*//////{<>==================-

\

   Geralt didn't believe for a second that Johnny would succeed in summoning a goddess - let alone that she was anything more than a legend. What he did believe, however, was that maybe something was there. The fact that the information in Johnny's book pointed explicitly to a particular location was hardly a coincidence. Also that the ritual was described in detail – although the special ingredient, namely the love pledge, was mentioned rather vaguely in the book, as he had gotten out of Johnny after some more inquiring. Geralt thought it possible that perhaps something really could be summoned at this point, but certainly not a goddess. A specter, perhaps, or a cursed being, a corgowrath, a Shishiga… whatever it was, he believed it to be rare and old, probably dangerous.

He asked the godling not to try to start the ritual without him but to prepare it so that they could start right away when Geralt returned. Meanwhile, he rode back to Novigrad, spending an outrageous amount of money on a small silver box decorated with tacky rose petals made of tiny, inexpensive gems. Then he spent considerable time unobtrusively looking around for a mage or sorceress. He could by no means go to Corinne with his request without betraying Johnny – which he didn't want to do because it was clear to him that the godling meant well. But as a being exceedingly connected with nature, he lacked the sense for many human characteristics, and he did not grasp the danger that could hide in such magical incantation. Furthermore, Geralt was aware that he would only get his ring back safely if he played at least partially by Johnny's rules. And in the end, it was always about playing with these creatures.

He found a mage who, even if they officially no longer had to hide, made a somewhat nervous impression. Geralt had the box covered with a spell that he had thought about for a while and was reasonably sure that Johnny wouldn't recognize what was actually behind it. This took a while, and the mage relaxed a bit, even admitting at the end that he still slept poorly, albeit the city was safe for his kind again. However, prejudices did not disappear from people's minds so quickly. Emhyr held back on the presence of soldiers in the city; it was still a sensitive topic in negotiations. Of the northern kingdoms, no one felt responsible either, which is why crime still flourished in Novigrad. Before leaving, Geralt recommended that the mage visit Corinne – just for safety. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that he was traveling in the matter of love, after all. That was ridiculous, and besides, it was none of his business.

When he returned, Johnny had prepared the ritual. He had set up a circle in the clearing, made of half-burned candles and at least one unused one. In the middle of it, he had placed a pile of gifts, mainly jewelry and love letters, all stolen like the candles – like Geralt's ring, but it was not among the other stuff. The godling noticed Geralt's look and defended himself by saying that all of this was only for security, to strengthen the spell.

"I really don't think that's going to work," Geralt said, "not even with this."

He held up the silver box.

"For someone who possesses such a mighty token of love, you're surprisingly doubtful of its power," Johnny remarked pointedly.

"Maybe, but I'm a reformed skeptic when it comes to love."

Johnny shook his head.

"So, what did you bring?"

"In this box," Geralt claimed dramatically, "I had one of my memories magically locked away."

"What?"

"A memory of a loving moment."

"Memories are powerful," Johnny mused. "I just hope it's nothing objectionable?"

Geralt shrugged.

"Love has many facets. Ultimately, it's up to your goddess to decide, isn't it?"

The godling still looked a little indecisive, but finally, he nodded.

"All right, I'll tell you how we do it," Geralt continued.

"But I've read the book, I know..."

"Well, you can do it as the book says. But as soon as the time comes when the box is needed, you give me back the ring. At that exact moment, you hear?"

Johnny tilted his head.

"That's not stupid," he said appreciatively. "You think if your little box isn't strong enough, after all, Liuba will be attracted to the power of the ring. In the end, the memory in your little box might still be enough for her. Clever."

"Exactly," Geralt lied without batting an eye.

"That way, you can keep the ring, and I can still talk to her.... it's just a little bit of cheating. I like it," Johnny said. "Let's get started."

So they began. Geralt lit the candles in the order Johnny solemnly told him to. He had even stolen a flint, which Geralt thought was almost more dangerous than anything else he had done. Then began a litany of mumbled words, a strange mixture of elder speech and some gibberish. Maybe some swear words, who could tell for sure.

At some point, the godling reached into his little bag, and at last, Geralt saw his ring again. The sight of it stung him a little. Perhaps it was indeed strange how attached he was to this object. Still, he did not regard the ring as a mere object.

"It's time," Johnny whispered, his face a single mask of concentration, his big eyes half-closed.

Geralt held out his hand with the box. The atmosphere was strange. Evening had fallen on the small clearing; the light had given way to a pale gray, at the edge of which still hung the last pink of the setting sun. The birds' singing from the forest had stopped; not even the woodpecker, which had been hammering on some trees almost all day, could still be heard. Actually, all sounds had fallen silent, even that of small animals in the undergrowth. Although a gentle breeze was blowing, not even a rustle could be heard.

That was strange, but even stranger was that the air, which had been pure and clear all day, seemed to condense. Johnny had insisted that Geralt put down the swords, but he had placed them on the floor not too far from him and was now glancing at them. If any specter was indeed going to show itself, he had to be quick. The silver sword was prepared in case, but since he didn't know what he was up against, he had to decide on a possible potion at the last second. And he had to get Johnny to safety somehow.

"Now," Geralt hissed as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Promptly, he held out the box to Johnny. The latter’s eyes seemed even bigger than usual, and a delighted smile now appeared on his face. He took the box and gave the ring to Geralt, who immediately put it on his finger. At the same moment, a strange glow seemed to fill the air. Geralt stood waiting at the edge of the candle circle, his knees slightly bent, ready to make a daring leap towards the swords. It seemed to grow darker around them, while a bright spot of light remained in the center of the circle. The air crackled. Suddenly Johnny chuckled and lowered his eyes in a shy gesture. Geralt stared over at him, frowning.

"What's going on?"

The godling did not answer. He seemed not to perceive Geralt at all. Then he nodded and began to speak incoherently.

"That's right," he said, and "What mage?"

He chuckled again. Then he pointed to Geralt.

"No, he has no idea," he said.

The witcher wondered if Johnny had gone mad. Nothing was there. It seemed as if an apparition was about to materialize, but at the same time, as if something prevented it from doing so. Johnny spoke to the air. Geralt thought carefully. What creature could manage to make itself entirely invisible for a witcher, not even causing the medallion to vibrate? It was also strange that the changed atmosphere had nothing dangerous about it at all. Nevertheless, he thought it impossible that Johnny was talking to a love goddess right now – or that she would show herself to the godling, of all people, who had nothing to offer but a handful of jewelry and a small box covered with a strong but rather silly spell. This only confirmed his suspicion that it was not about a love pledge at all. Geralt took a quick look at his ring. The engraved flame on it seemed to glow red. He ran the index finger of his left hand over it. It was all in his imagination; there was nothing at all.

Just at that moment, the strange sensation hovering over the surroundings disappeared, and suddenly, the birds began to sing again. The light was back as before. Everything was exactly as before, just as if nothing had ever happened – only the candles had all gone out.

"What was that just now?" Geralt addressed the godling.

Johnny looked at him innocently, the box still in his hand.

"Look, she didn't take it at all. Nor any of the other stuff. She said she'd do it for free for me. You got all worked up over your ring for nothing!"

"Better safe than sorry," Geralt grumbled, "What did she say, your goddess?"

He sounded so skeptical that Johnny burst out laughing.

"You don't believe it even now, do you? I suppose you didn't see anything? Well, these gods play by their own rules, my dear. She said Corinne's already been taken care of. I don't know what that means, but I think Sarah and I won't have to worry about her anytime soon."

"I see," Geralt replied. He couldn't think of any other answer. He made a mental note to ask Dandelion to check on Corinne occasionally. While he didn't actually believe Johnny had been talking to a goddess, as long as he didn't know what he was dealing with, he preferred to play it safe. If there was some spectral being around, someone would have to take care of it sooner or later.

/

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   "You're late."

Emhyr, engrossed in papers in his study as usual at this hour, did not precisely toss aside his quill at the sight of Geralt, but he leaned back, regarding his spouse intently.

"Late?" asked Geralt, after closing the door and making sure they were indeed alone (occasionally, there were minions in the alcoves, scurrying out at a hint). Only then did he casually stroll around the table to pick up the kiss he thought he richly deserved. He got it, and it felt like he had actually been gone too long. The fact that he then sat down on the desk, however, earned him a disapproving look.

"You're crumpling important documents. All I’m saying is that, according to my information, you had already arrived in Novigrad about a week ago. Usually, you stay a day or two, then you head back."

"You sent your spies after me?"

"Certainly not."

"So you have spies in Novigrad?"

"Don't act surprised," Emhyr returned. "With your penchant for dubious adventures, you can't blame me for occasionally liking to know where you hang out."

"Dubious... pah."

Geralt grinned cockily.

"Then why didn't your spies tell you where I was if you think I should have been back by now?"

Emhyr didn't bat an eye, but at least he had to admit, "I'm afraid they... lost sight of you at some point."

"Well, maybe I just don't let myself be watched on my dubious adventures," Geralt countered. "I'll tell you about it sometime; however, right now, I want to get rid of the dust from the journey. Just this much: I was traveling in matters of love."

Emhyr folded his arms, raising his brows.

"Is this going to be some weird attempt to make me jealous?"

"Oh, would that work?"

"Sure, though it would be high treason."

"High treason?"

"Of course," Emhyr replied calmly, "betraying the Emperor is high treason."

"In that case," Geralt said, "it's a good thing your spies didn't get me."

He wiped away Emhyr's now slightly confused expression with another kiss. Before closing his eyes, he took one last look at his ring.

This story was probably better left a secret after all.