#chef!geralt

[whumpypepsigal]

#besties

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 110

Okay so we all know about how Regis told Dandelion in the books that his blood smelled nice, which was most likely about how none of his wounds were infected and whatnot, but what if it wasn't? What if Jaskier has a special type of blood, whether magically made, cursed, or perhaps just o- or some shit lmfao Either way, Vampires LOVE this shit. Their favorite delicacy when they choose to partake. This becomes a problem when Jaskier has a hurt foot and Geralt takes him to a medic. A vampire, whether the medic, the medic's assistant, or just someone lurking outside who caught a whiff of the blood, is like "Jackpot!" and tells all his little vampire friends, and now they're hosting a big feast just to drain this guy. But it's such a delicacy, the vampire decides maybe they should only drain him a little, so he can keep the human around, so the human can regain his blood, and they can drink from him AGAIN! Oh yes, marvelous! He throws the best parties! Jaskier wakes up with a horrible headache. He's dressed incredibly fancy, though he doesn't think these are his clothes- Speaking of which, he also doesn't think this is his room at the inn... Is he- Is he fucking chained to a dining table? "Let the buffet begin! I hope you're thirsty my friends!~" Fuck. He hopes Geralt gets here quick-

[ghostlylicious]

GERALT WATCH OUT THERE'S AN EVIL, POWERFUL MAGIC-USER GOING TO MANIPULATE YOUoh wait you're into that

(press for better quality)

[iron-way]

My asexual ass: *feeling like an alien for not being able to understand and relate to thirst talking in everyday life*

Also my asexual ass: *recognizing Joey Batey not by his face or voice but by his slutty waist and behind first* Wait! Wait wait wait wait wait wait!

[ilikebooksmoviesseriesandanime]

If Burn Butcher Burn is All Too Well

Then Extraordinary Things is Daylight

Joey Batey's voice and projection of emotions are ✨✨✨✨

And The Ride of the Witcher is the redemption of Burn Butcher Burn

[craybii]

No idea if this is for the show or just Cassie Clare being a goddess but Philippa + this hair in the show equals perfection.

[lorrainestea]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧-𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲

W𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲?

[magdelanesingerin]

Oh NOOOOOO my HEART. OW.

Jaskier is absolutely the parent to do matching outfits!

[inexplicifics]

Geraskier 7 or 11 for cozy prompts?

Geralt opens the door to the unfortunately familiar sound of his boyfriend squawking at the fire alarm.

For a long moment, he genuinely considers closing the door again and going for a long walk. It’s been a miserable day, cold and wet and full of cranky customers and even crankier animals, and the sound of the fire alarm goes through his head like a knife.

But then there’s a final triumphant yelp and the noise cuts off. “Got you, you miserable traitorous creature,” Jaskier proclaims, gleeful in his victory. Geralt rubs his temples, smiling despite himself, and steps inside, closing the door quietly and sitting down on the bench to pull his boots off. He tosses his socks down the basement stairs - landing them directly in the hamper, which makes him smile again - and pads barefoot to the kitchen, pausing to lean against the doorway and survey the disaster zone.

There is flour everywhere. It genuinely looks like Jaskier attempted to sprinkle some over every surface in the kitchen, up to and including the light fixture. The trash can is open, and Geralt can see the remains of an entire eighteen-pack of eggs in it; given that it was new this morning, that’s not auspicious. The counter gleams everywhere it isn’t dusted with flour, a suspiciously oily gleam that Geralt suspects is melted butter. The windows are open to let out the smell of burnt cake.

Jaskier is standing at the sink, scrubbing at a baking pan and singing along to the radio.

Geralt waits for a commercial break before clearing his throat. “So.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier jumps a foot and whirls around, splashing soapy water everywhere as he clutches a hand to his chest. “Must you move like a cat? I swear I’m going to put a bell on you! When did you get home?”

Geralt shrugs. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Dreadful sneaky man,” Jaskier complains, mincing across the filthy, damp floor to plant soapy hands on Geralt’s chest and kiss him. Geralt kisses back, of course. Jaskier tastes mostly like himself, and a little like butter.

“What happened?” Geralt asks once they’ve greeted each other properly.

Jaskier sighs. “I found a recipe for pound cake,” he says, drooping like an unwatered flower. “It looked really easy.”

Geralt looks the room over with deep skepticism. Jaskier scowls and shakes a finger at him. “Don’t you make that face, mister! It could have happened to anyone! It just - the flour bag wasn’t open, so I had to pull it open, and then I melted the butter in the microwave but there was some on the outside of the bowl so it was slippery, and then I was trying to do that cool one-handed egg-breaking thing you see all the chefs doing on TV, and -”

Geralt puts a hand over his eyes. This is why leaving Jaskier alone in the house is dangerous, but it’s winter break, so Jaskier doesn’t have any classes to teach, and Geralt can’t afford to take a two-week break from his job, so…here they are.

“I’ll get the shopvac,” he sighs.

“You will go and lie down until your head stops hurting,” Jaskier retorts. “I will get the shopvac. And then I will come get you in half an hour when dinner arrives.”

“I don’t have a headache,” Geralt lies.

Jaskier taps his forehead. “That little crease between your eyebrows says otherwise. Go turn on the white noise machine and change into something less damp and rest your eyes a bit, and I’ll have this whole kitchen spick and span again before you know it!”

Geralt raises a skeptical eyebrow. He’s going to be finding specks of flour in unexpected places for weeks, and they both know it. Jaskier huffs. “I will have it habitable again,” he corrects himself. “Now shoo!”

Geralt curls a hand around the back of Jaskier’s neck and pulls him in for a gentle kiss, then obediently shoos. Warm dry clothes and a half hour’s lie-down sound really nice, actually.

He dozes off to the sound of the shopvac and Jaskier’s singing, and wakes to the smell of takeout from the amazing Zerrikanian place downtown, and somehow, despite everything, it’s a really good day after all.

(Or HERE on AO3!)

[outoftheseine]

mini misc. rec list!

you've been gone so long, baby • matt murdock x pregnant!reader

→ by @bellaxgiornata (angst, so much angst, hurt but no comfort, but happy ending)

as if you are still here • thomas shelby x reader

→ by @speckledemerald (very angsty, hurt no comfort, character death)

love drunk • miguel o'hara x spidergirl!reader

→ by @bruisedboys (grumpy x sunshine, so much fluff)

you're losing me • gregory house x reader

→ by @imaginesfordifferentfandoms (angst, house is a dick but what is new, age gap)

ethereal • jim halpert x reader

→ by @happyhalpert (this is series is literally chef's kiss but it hasn't been updated for a year)

treat me like a lady • steve harrington x fem!reader

→ by @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep (enemies to lovers, angst, fluff)

one spoon for two • remus lupin x reader

→ by @dwindlinghaze (very shy!reader, veryy fluffy)

duty • geralt of rivia x reader

→ by @cinebration (princess!reader)

hook, line and sinker • harry styles x reader

→ by @adore-styles (dad!harry, angst)

a new campaign • infituated dad!eddie munson x mom!reader

→ by @luveline (fluff, comfort, tw: ppd)

main masterlist

[spellwing777]

A common first-time rabbit owner mistake; bunnies should wear harnesses, which is safer for their delicate necks than collars. Take a look at this properly outfitted bunny enjoying his outdoor enrichment.

bunny on a leash 🐇

[ID Geralt on his knees looking up at Yennefer who is off screen. He is wearing a sexy bunny suit with knee high boots. He is wearing a collar and Yennefer is holding his leash. End ID]

[revoevokukil]

Analysing Rozdroże Kruków | Crossroad of Ravens–Andrzej Sapkowski's Latest Witcher Novel

Review until the break, analysis below. Spoilers, beware! (For nicer reading experience, you can also find this piece on Blathan Caerme.)

◇ ◇ ◇

Critical decisions are made at the crossroads. To dive anew into the well-trodden bygones or to let history’s weight pass through you gently, as you set eyes upon new horizons. While promising more Witcher stories to come, Rozdroże Kruków sees Andrzej Sapkowski drawing one particular thread of his saga into sharp relief—as if holding it up to the light for his readers, old and new, to see more clearly.

© Grzegorz Pawlak in Nowa Fantastyka

If this book instead of Wiedźmin had been the opening salvo to a fantasy cycle, however, I would have moved on fast. As a standalone, too, it’s run-of-the-mill. But young adult journeys are full of aborted false starts. And for what it actually is—a prequel character piece—it’s inoffensive, light reading; chock full of narrative rhyming and nostalgia bait. Sapkowski does not surprise nor excite, serving up a home cooked comfort meal; familiar, though forgettable. Character work, as ever, holds the dish together.

There is some mystique decay and a lot of recycling; retroactive strengthening of parallels. Most of it is inoffensive (the origins of Płotka, Geralt’s bandana, swords, attraction toward older women, aversion toward killing nearly-extinct creatures) if eye-rolly, but the narrative echo binding young Geralt to as-of-yet unborn Ciri insists upon itself too much.

‘Listen to what?’ shouted the Witcher, before his voice suddenly faltered. ‘I can’t leave—I can’t just leave her to her fate. She’s completely alone… She cannot be left alone, Dandelion. You’ll never understand that. No one will ever understand that, but I know. If she remains alone, the same thing will happen to her as once happened to me… You’ll never understand that…’   – A. Sapkowski, Time of Contempt

The emotional impact of this fragment in the saga does not increase as a result of Crossroad of Ravens. It is not strictly necessary for both Ciri and Geralt to come close to dying on the eve of the Equinox, receive facial scars, and, for a while, walk the same path—dealing out retribution. The repetition could have come with a twist to mask its repetitiveness. Oh, well. Fortunately, the point the original saga makes stands solid without further ados.

Some of the lore is still genuinely interesting for fans (the sacking of Kaer Morhen, relations between sorcerers and witchers, Kaedweni political geography), even if they will have to sit through the deployment of fencing dictionaries for it. The chef’s been on leave, but all the ingredients are still there: the in-universe apocrypha, sardonic wit, bloody rituals, women’s and witchers’ rights, and blooming apple trees. Alas, it lacks something more.

The book feels like an overt advertisement for one particular ostinato of The Witcher Cycle: the weight we pass on. Inside the witchers’ trauma we can recognise the experiences of women—bodies violated and remade by the powerful, the constant tension between utility and revulsion. Inside Geralt’s story of leaving home for the first time hides Ciri’s tale of first losing hers… Or did the ideas not occur the other way around? Crossroad suffers from the thoroughness with which the author has already handled certain themes; it treads worn ground, failing to reach the sea and new horizons. Although, perhaps, preparing ground in this way among new audiences and really driving in a point before Ciri will start engaging with the weight of her own legacies in CD Projekt Red’s new trilogy.

Geralt as a Young Man

Do not remember the sins of my youth nor my transgressions. – Psalm 25:7

Young Geralt sets off from Kaer Morhen the day before the Equinox and one life—of youthful maximalism—begins, until, on the eve of another Equinox, he almost dies, and life as he conceives of it in this book ends.

Geralt, the wunderkind, is a callow, naive boy with a heart of gold and a pocket book of Rules and Regulations the world only pretends to give two shits about. He tosses a coin, should a beggar catch his eye. He doesn’t accept payment when he comes across someone in trouble. He lectures bigwigs on legal permission to practice his craft, and he interferes—all the time. Until a blacksmith reminds him that everyone should mind their own business. His first monster is a rapist? Too bad. Geralt is forgetting an evergreen rule: killing men brings murder charges, killing those whom men hate today brings accolades. Pronouncing guilt lies outside of a witcher’s competence. Justice is not a witcher’s business. Hence our wunderkind’s well-known agony: he is not a perfect, emotionless witcher, he is a defect requiring repair.[^1]

© Daniel Valaisis

Barely legal and precocious, Geralt wishes to see the world, but almost gets hanged in his backyard by trying to save people from people. Endearingly serious, he is frequently frustrated at his own inexperience and ignorance. Geralt—just Geralt—does not know what big words mean, but sighs after a few prefixes to mask his own backwoods upbringing. Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde, as we know, is the brief outcome.[^2] There’s purple poetry in his step on account of the fantasised heroism of his profession. But the populace quickly sets to disabusing their newest pest controller of such notions. Never having moved among people, Geralt gets his first taste of isolation: he does not feel good in crowds; he gets overstimulated. He is unready—mentally and physically—for the lonely existence that dogs a witcher for the sin of his nature.

Fortunately, experienced company finds him during that first aborted foray into his profession; albeit not without an ulterior motive. In choosing to work per procura of Preston Holt, Geralt binds himself for a while longer to Kaedwen, to Holt, the Temple of Melitele in Elsborg, and to the shadow of the sack of Kaer Morhen. He clings to the geography of his childhood. Learning to kill bare-handed—for what virtue is there in accepting abuse?—and to do business. Learning to cast down his eyes before sorceresses, who, in his mentor’s experience, treat regular people as cattle and despise witchers in particular. A witcher’s skin is a chronicler. Geralt learns his profession as an extension of Holt and thus, internalizes witchers’ generational trauma.

Wizards, Witches, and Witchers

“The first witchers were children of women with uncontrolled magical abilities, called witches. They were insane and often served as sexual toys to horny young men. Children, the results of such games, were abandoned. … All of us, witchers, descend from intellectually challenged girls.” – Preston Holt, Crossroad of Ravens

Demand for witchers originated in the military-industrial complex. An elite Circle of Wizards decided to meet the demand for superhumans. Their methods differed—corpses, foetuses in the wombs of their mothers, tiny children—and the laboratory crematoria smoked continuously and for a long time. The result was supposed to constitute a new step on the evolutionary ladder of humanity; an improved version of the human species. An emotionless killer—a transitional form from which, through natural selection, a new, better human race would eventually emerge.

Once the mutagen, anatoxin, hormone and virus had been created, one of the wizards stole the material and fled. Allegedly, for the common good. The rationale? The transhuman ought not to remain in the power of Lords and Sorcerers alone, but should be put into the service of the general public; protecting and saving people from monsters. In Mirabel, in the North, beyond the Toina river, first witchers were created, after which Beann Grudd and Kaer Morhen were established. The renegade wizard had by that point already met his end. But the gears were turning, the product diversifying.

It's not coincidental that witchers rank in many ways the same, if not lower, than women in the society they are supposed to save. Both are often unable to defend themselves without incurring worse retribution from those in power. Both are bodies to be used: women for breeding, witchers for killing; both subject to violation in the name of progress or pleasure. They are objects of the ambitions, desires, and fears of the powerful. Common folk believe witchers are assembled from various human fragments, sewn, or glued together, automatons birthed by village witches but constructed by sorcerers. A witcher's touch, as Geralt fast learns, carries a stigma: many brothels refuse to serve them publicly, as other clients might not want a girl who has been touched by a mutant. Yet their bodily fluids are of great interest to the class that created them; a class that controls and influences the social mores and prejudices affecting them. Sorceresses and sorcerers are the powerful of this world; transhuman already. Their shadow selves—village witches, whose mind breaks under Power, and witchers, who are hammered into shape with it—serve as experimental material. They must function as intended, yield what is required, or be discarded.

Witchers have absent mothers and distant fathers who'd love to vivisect them, mirroring the society that created them: born of the marginalized, shaped by the powerful, yet trusted by neither. Despite their abilities, they are viewed as deficient. Less than Man. In society's eyes, a witcher's “birth” necessitates he labour all his life to make even; kill things that try to eat man in order to negate his original sin of having been created as something more than man. Geralt is one of the last to set out on the trail from Kaer Morhen, but he does not believe himself to be a successful specimen. A witcher with scruples is unreliable. But is Geralt an aberration, or the new, better man—wielding inhuman power not at the behest of lords and sorcerers, but according to his own conscience?

Vigilantes vs Defenders

“When nature encounters a mutation, it fights it. You have no choice, young witcher. You must accept your own imperfection.” – Preston Holt, Crossroad of Ravens

"There is a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal." – Ecclesiastes 3;2

Rocamora. Roac a moreah. In the Elder Speech: revenge.

We live (on) in our successors. In them, our sins live on too.

When Preston Holt saves an unseasoned witcher from being hanged, it’s with the intention of gaining himself a healthy, young executor of his will in his unfinished quest for justice. The white-haired Geralt even looks like Holt—his spectre. A successor to his work. But what work! Returning evil deeds in kind: avenging the Kaer Morhen witchers, massacred in collective punishment for a kill that may or may not have been committed in self-defence by a colleague. Then Holt changes his mind.

© Suansusu

Preston Holt becomes for Geralt as Geralt is to Ciri from the start: a mentor who would like to save you from walking the path they have already walked, and ruining yourself—after having put you on that path, that is.[^3] In wishing to honour and secure our legacy, we plant the weight comprising it. The sins of Preston Holt’s youth saw him run when the mob attacked Kaer Morhen. He has been making up for his cowardice ever since. He has built an altar to his quest of his very home, and, despite growing hardships, refuses to move on. There would be no punishment for scoundrels, unless someone made it.

An imperfect witcher gets emotionally invested.

It’s fairly clear with Crossroad that there is no uniform outcome to Trial of the Grasses. As Holt tells Geralt, mutations can mutate spontaneously. Errors are inevitable. In spite of being more experienced, Holt turns out to be “flawed” similarly to Geralt. But Geralt fails as a witcher precisely where he succeeds as a human—by caring. And so does Holt.

“I,” Holt continued, “unlike you, knew what I was doing, and I was aware of the consequences. I acted according to a plan. That plan did not include your pathetic, senseless, and purposeless intervention.” “I wanted to save you…” “And I wanted to save you,” Holt snapped back.

When is revenge no longer worth it? When something else begins to matter more in its place.

Geralt’s quest for vengeance abates when he reaches the sea. A foreign, new horizon. The moment of choice arrives to the cawing of a raven in the top of a tall tree: before him, his quarry scrambles to escape; yonder, a monstrous centipede crawling toward playing children on the beach. And the young witcher, for once, heeds the raven. He stops looking backward, meeting evil with evil. Instead of continuing to pay back for past wrongs, he chooses to prevent future harm. He performs an act of good; and may it return in kind.

Footnotes

[^1]: In Wiedźmin, Geralt saves the strzyga. He dances with the cursed creature until dawn and breaks the curse. At 18, he botches the job. Overcome with fear at the difficulty of his task, he fails at making a Sign and panics. Result: a very dead, very headless strzyga. [^2]: It’s an interesting contrast with Ciri, who goes by her nickname as often as she can, escaping in this way from her legacy as Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. A noblewoman, and much more besides. [^3]: “But it turns out that fate cannot be cheated.” Despite saving Ciri’s life and trying to prepare her as best he could for the world, Geralt cannot help but labour under a massive burden of guilt throughout the Saga. As any parent, who takes responsibility for the path they introduce their dependant to.

◇ ◇ ◇

While I'll continue to share on tumblr, I am working on creating a website for all of my Witcher writings. An archive, a library, and a newsletter simultaneously (signing up will land you longform writing in your inbox). Cheers!

[0dde11eth]

Cook geralt and server jaskier AU

Jaskier: They said the well done steak was delicious, and to pass their compliments to the chef

Geralt: Tell them to fuck off

Anyone who's worked in a kitchen knows that if you order a well done steak you're gonna piss of the entire kitchen staff

It's hilarious to watch

"New order, salad, the fish, and a steak: well done"

*collective groan and swearing*

[troiings]

For the character meme: Tissaia de Vries 🙌

How I feel about this character

*pats her on the head* this ancient and powerful sorceress can hold so much trauma

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Yennefer and Rita are so obvious but listen. listen. if i have a chance to throw those three into bed together.......... guaranteed i will take it. lmao. but also i have low-key shipped her with Vanielle for a long time. we don't see Tissaia touch many people, and it tends to be pretty intentional every time she does. she takes Yennefer by the wrist to remove her bandages. she touches Vanielle on the arm at the ball. she squeezes Fringilla's arm in comfort, also at the ball. she touches Yen's shoulder in Bottled Appetites, and her face at Sodden. that's it for s1. she has very particular reasons for touching someone in all but one of these scenarios, and Vanielle is the outlier. it's almost casual. those two were intimate is my point. that's my thesis, your honor.

i can also see the appeal of Tissaia/Regis because like. yeah, ancient gentleman vampire, you got it dude.

and of course, there was all that business with Philippa............ you can't tell me they haven't fucked, sir

My non-romantic OTP for this character

ummm i said i love her and Triss and that still stands. i'm not sure if it counts if it's already in the romantic section but she and Rita in cahoots together (or rather, Rita being Herself and Tissaia in the background just sighing wearily but loving that woman to death) is just. *chef's kiss* god i wish they had handed poor Rochelle a better script because show!Rita was awful and it was entirely the writers' fault (weary)

My unpopular opinion about this character

is it an unpopular opinion if people don't actively disagree with you, they just think something different? wait, i'm just realizing i'm not sure of the technicalities of an unpopular opinion even lmao. anyway i always headcanoned her somewhere on the aro spectrum. hell i could even see her as acespec, though that's not how i write her

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

nothing at all, because as we know she is living happily on Ard Skellige in a cottage with a dog and a horse, Yennefer, and occasionally Ciri and Geralt for company

[nullio]

I wouldn't be suprised if this was cannon but I've always kinda hc that Geralt (and probably most of the witchers) can't stomach mushrooms anymore

Probably a few different herbs/stimuli just send them right back to being a kid at Kear Morhen

And I make it a litte extra sweet in my mind that Jaskier notices that Geralt will push aside any mushrooms when their on his plate - so now whenever they get food somewhere, Jaskier will quietly ask the inn keeper or chef or whatever to leave off the mushrooms in the dish so Geralt won't have to deal with them x

[awitcheress]

So I've been watching way too many cooking shows on Facebook and Instagram lately..

Geraskier modern AU - non magical. Part 1.

Geralt is homeless and has been for most of his life. Jaskier is not. In fact, his family is filthy rich. But they don't approve of what he wants in life which is to be a Michelin star gourmet chef. He's been cooking his entire life because when he was a kid, his parents pretty much made sure he studied, but apart from that they didn't care much. (Very original premise, I know... Lol.)

But the one person who did care for him was the chef of the household. An elderly man who lost his son and wife, when the son was only a small child, so Jaskier and the chef find each other immediately and form a strong bond. Even as a very young boy, Jaskier shows much talent in cooking.

Then, when Jaskier turns eighteen, Chef dies. Jaskier is devastated by his loss and he equates everything good and loving with food. So, he wants to go to culinary school to continue learning to become as skilled at cooking as Chef.

When his parents refuse to allow him this (Surprise!), Jaskier runs away. Unfortunately, he has no way to survive and ends up homeless and alone. For long, miserable weeks, he starves and suffers cold weather, nowhere to feel safe, no one to trust.

Sometimes he even considers returning to Lettenhove...

One day, late at night, he is cornered by a big, muscular man, who beats him up and tries to rape him. It's too dark for Jaskier to see what the man looks like. There have been instances of rape/murders all over Novigrad. Jaskier is convinced he is going to die, when two other men appear and chase Jaskier's attackers away.

Jaskier is profoundly grateful to these two men who introduce themselves as Geralt and Eskel. Well, Eskel introduces them. Geralt only mumbles... (naturally)

Eskel tells Geralt to accompany Jaskier to the city watchmen. He does, but it's useless. Homeless people being raped and murdered? Just as well. It'll clean up the city streets is their attitude.

Geralt doesn't seem surprised. Regardless, Upon leaving, Jaskier chatters away with Geralt. He relies his life's story in two minutes flat 😂 as Geralt "hms" and grunts in his own inimitable way. Jaskier is not deterred. He's in love.

This gruff, tall and broad shouldered man is Jaskier's knight in...tattered old black clothing. His hair is long and the color of the palest cream, and he is absolutely breathtaking. Geralt has a voice that rumbles deep in his chest when he chooses to say something. His legs are long and powerful, his eyes like liquid honey... Geralt's arms are sinewy and strong. Oh dear, Jaskier has to stop himself from melting like ice cream left out in the sun...

Geralt helps introduce Jaskier to the people at the homeless shelter, and he's offered a bed there. Geralt leaves and, again, Jaskier is alone. The shelter is nothing like what he's used to from home, but it's eons better than the last few weeks on the street. He has a roof over his head, even if he has to share living space with others.

Thus, the loneliness is gone quite rapidly. Jaskier meets several people there, among them, Vesemir, who runs the soup kitchen. When he finds out that Jaskier likes to cook, Vesemir invites him to help.

Soon his life is changed into something so different, he feels his head spinning, and Jaskier's days are a million times better. He has access to showers, a bathroom, clean water, he's gets to eat at least once a day. And, cooking, something he loves to do so much, is actually helping others. The love is back in his life.

And then, of course, there's Geralt. Speaking to him, and listening to others, Jaskier learns that Geralt, despite his gruff nature, is a good man who patrols the streets with his brothers, Eskel and Lambert. They're trying to help keep the homeless safe, but there are so many of them...

Several young, homeless, slender and pretty men, like Jaskier, are raped and murdered. Jaskier's description of the man who attacked him is shaky at best... "Big and strong" fits even Geralt and his brothers. The only one who wasn't there is Lambert, who is a bit of a prick.

Geralt and Jaskier over time becomes friends if a sort but Geralt is not responding to Jaskier's attempts at flirting.

A year goes by, and one day, Geralt finds Jaskier in the kitchen with big news....