#gearlt

[dalekofchaos]

Future guest characters I wanna see in Mortal Kombat

Came up with guest characters who I think would be perfect for Mortal Kombat

Riddick

Buffy Summers

Doomguy

Master Chief

Harley Quinn

John Wick

Beatrix Kiddo

Michael Myers

Pennywise The Dancing Clown

Xena Warrior Princess

Judge Dredd

Shredder

Norse Kratos

Ash Williams

Lobo

Nemesis

The Punisher

Pinhead

Hit-Girl

Max Rockatansky

Ranye

Gearlt of Rivia

Deathstroke

Jackie Estacado

[caffeinated--writer]

Why do these wigs keep getting worse with each NEW season of the Witcher?!? I know the money isn’t going towards better writers if season 2 is anything to go by so what’s up???

Like they literally look atrocious 😭😭

[raccooncityriots]

Listen, imma be real, sometimes the dudebros have a point about characters being significantly less attractive than their models, but Ciri looks absolutely fine in that trailer. People saying it’s “woke and ugly” dumb as hell. Who didn’t think she’d be the next protagonist after Gearlt??? This isn’t out of nowhere in the slightest.

[generic-whumperz]

So the other night, I was grubbing down on a fat-ass burrito watching House of the Dragon when Daemon Targaryen came on screen, and my (dumbass) partner looked me dead in the eye and asked, “Is that Gearlt?”

Not even fucking close my guy.

“Are they related, though?”

Hombre, they’re not even part of the same world.

“Well, the white hair,” he defended.

Still a hard no.

[kuwdora]

another Vilgefortz fic update!

Ouroboros: Interlude

~3k, rated M. There's a lot more dreaminess and softness to make up for the lack of sex. Also symbolism. Boatloads of it.

“We need a wash,” he announces and squeezes Geralt’s thigh. Vilgefortz sits up and motions Gearlt to follow.

Geralt raises an eyebrow, his expression teetering on indignation. “Can’t you just,” he begins and snaps his fingers, “clean us up?”

Vilgefortz could. Why doesn’t he? He could be done with it and Vilgefortz could get back to chasing his next orgasm. The restlessness is guiding Vilgefortz elsewhere. He's eager for the ocean breeze and open sky.

“I have something better in mind,” Vilgefortz says and rises to his feet. He opens a portal in front of the bed and glances at Geralt expectantly.

For a moment Vilgefortz wonders if he would have to send another wave of compulsion through Geralt, but the witcher rolls off the bed and stands in front of the portal. Hesitation lingers in his face.

“It’s only down to the beach,” Vilgefortz says.

Geralt frowns. “I hate portals.”

That was an unexpected admission. “You do?”

“Let’s get this over with,” Geralt says and walks through the portal with no further complaint. Vilgefortz follows. The crackling energy of the portal siphons the restlessness from his body.

They depart Tissaia’s chambers in the middle of the night and exit the portal on the beach at sunset. Billowy pink and golden clouds are strewn across the sky, and the final hour of light dances on the waves.

Vilgefortz takes a deep, wonderful breath and exhales. It’s an incredible view, made even better as a backdrop for Geralt’s nakedness. Vilgefortz grins, openly admiring Geralt’s body. And beyond the witcher Tor Lara juts proudly from the outcropping of rock and ocean, shimmering a vivid pink and gold.

Vilgefortz stretches, parlaying the lightness in his lungs and he calls to Geralt. “Join me for a swim.” He walks backwards into the surf, the water lapping at his ankles.

read the interlude ao3

[pinkatron]

Gearlt and Regis make a break in the case, at Geralts expense, and Regis' secret life comes to the fore.

The vampire stole through the streets swiftly, avoiding patrols, and clutching the package in his arms tightly. The red-light district, at least the one he wished to abscond to, was not close. It lay near the pier district, for obvious reasons. His swift steps and sudden stops were punctuated by unsettling thoughts, ones which he had been ignoring, but in the silence had come forth.

He had been betrayed.

His life here, over the past decade, had been a trial in every way it could have possibly been. The city was corrupt to its core, a rotten apple with mold festering upon its skin and liquid shit at its center. The place was huge, not as big as some of the other larger cities, and by and large it was newer in comparison. It had cropped up shortly after the vampire wars and the witch burnings as a place where pirates could rest. It had become legitimate, after the pirates saw little profit and absconded into the west, where a new world lay ripe for plunder and slaving. But it was a city built on criminality, and that foundation had never quite left it.

[cirillaofcitron]

I am so sick and tired of hospitals IRL that I will be writing in a short, unplanned time skip in my fic. Originally, I was going to have a few chapters in the hospital with Eskel, but I simply am spending too much time in the hospital/clinics in my real life... sooo it is no longer fun/relatable; it is just draining. If I want to write more about Eskel's hospital stay, I will write that later on. I will do it separately, and I will do it from his POV, not Gearlt and Jaskier's.

Despite the change in plans, there is still lots of whump to come >:]]

[ophierian-vp]

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Silent Treatment

I was really vibing with both of these prompts today so I combined them 🤷‍♀️? I hope y’all Nonies are okay with it? It’s not exact but I think it captures the vibe? I hope?

Warnings: we got mommy issues up in this bitch, on both sides, abandonment, controlling/narcissistic parents, definition of ‘hurt’ isnt explicitly mentioned but is used mainly in the emotional sense, first fight, established geraskier relationship, it ends soft i promise

_______________

Jaskier was surprised by this new side of Geralt every day. He was gentler, attentive, sweet, and even verbally appreciative of Jaskier and the little things he would do. A lot of things were making more sense to Jaskier now that he was seeing Geralt express himself. 

The grunts, for example, were less of a disinterested placation and more of a way to respond without showing his hand. And now that he had no cards to hide, Geralt's grunts and sideways looks were few and far between. They’d been replaced with soft smiles and little murmurs of ‘you’re cute’ and ‘your eyes are very pretty in the morning’. 

Jaskier was constantly on his toes, not in a bad way, just - adjusting. Geralt seemed to drop his walls rather quickly, though that might have been because Jaskier started their relationship off with a big ole’ “I love you and would rather die than take another lover if it upset you.” Surprisingly, Jaskier was having a hard time keeping up. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, he just wasn’t prepared to be the one knocked on their ass from a nonchalant compliment. 

He started to loosen up a month or so in. Making jokes again, doting on Geralt in turn, and becoming just as comfortable with their newfound openness. 

Though it wasn’t long before he put his foot in his mouth. They were taking a bath together when he did, Geralt leaning back against his chest as they shared stories of sneaking out in their youth.

“...and then my mother, had the gal to tell me she just ‘wanted the best’ for me. As if putting a seven year old under house arrest for wanting sweets is in any way good for a child? Sometimes I envy you, dear. My mother was a terrible woman. I think I’d have been better off without her. I know my father would have.” 

Geralt had stopped scrubbing at the gunk on his arm and frowned at the wall. 

Jaskier felt his stomach drop as soon as Geralt’s muscles tensed. 

“No you don’t,” he murmured.

“I-” He almost started defending his position, which he had grounds to. His mother was a tyrant and a narcissist who bent everyone to her will and slandered those who wouldn’t bow until they fled. But he knew what he’d said. Geralt had never outright said he missed the good parts of his mother, but Jaskier heard it in all the little bits of stories he had dropped over the years. How he’d wonder what his mother would have thought of what he’d become, who he loved, the causes he’d fought for. Jaskier was all too aware he’d fucked up as he lightly rested his hands over Geralt’s hips, “Darling I didn’t mean it…”

Geralt rocked forward and stood abruptly, water making a sickening slapping sound when it hit the floor as he quickly stepped out, “You had someone to protect you. Even if she was wrong, she still fed you and kept you safe.”

“Protect me?” Jaskier knew he should shut up, a voice in his head was begging him to, but alas, he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to, “She did what she had to to keep up appearances. Don’t think for a second she protected me.”

Geralt glared at him as he toweled off, “She kept you.”

“Until I no longer worshiped her! I was out on my ass at sixteen for questioning her at the family dinner table!”

Geralt pursed his lips and set his face in a stony mask of indifference, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jaskier felt a chill, even in the hot bath, at the look on Geralt’s face.

He simply shrugged and dressed for bed, leaving Jaskier to marinade in his stupidity. 

Of course Geralt would see having any type of mother as idyllic compared to his childhood. But there was still a righteous anger burning in Jaskier’s gut as he crossed his arms and sunk into the water up to his nose. Just because it hadn’t been as bad as Geralt’s childhood didn’t mean the things Jaskier had to grapple with were fading any faster. The fact didn’t suddenly absolve Jaskier of the baggage he carried, nor mend his broken relationship. And logically, it wasn’t meant to, but Jaskier was having a hard time seeing anything but red. 

When he got out and went to bed, Geralt was already asleep, or pretending to sleep. Either way Jaskier was too angry to call his bluff and settled down to sleep without nuzzling into his chest. 

In the morning, Geralt was already up and packing, only humming in response when Jaskier said good morning. Jaskier tried to make light conversation, to loosen Geralt up even a little, but it was met with grunts and silence. 

If he’d thought the newfound praise and range of facial expressions were a surprise, this was whiplash. It was like being thrown back a decade, when he’d first decided to stick to Geralt like tar, before he would even call Jaskier by name. He did his best to give Geralt space, but he missed their banter and how Geralt had started holding Jaskier’s hand as they walked. Part of him wanted to lay into him, tear him a new one for telling him how to feel about his mother, but another part of him wanted to wrap around him and apologize profusely, both in words and gentle kisses. Even more than either of those, though, was the sinkhole of guilt in his chest over flippantly hitting Geralt right where it hurt most. 

Finally, Jaskier couldn’t take it anymore. 

They were sitting across the fire from each other, Geralt pointedly not looking at him as the sun sank below the trees. 

“Geralt?”

“Hm.”

Jaskier took a slow breath before he continued, having told himself all day to keep his head on straight when he said his piece, “It’s not okay.”

Geralt just frowned at him. 

“It’s not okay for me to treat something that hurt you so lightly,” he clarified, catching the slight upward twitch of his lover’s brow, “I don’t need to be thankful for someone who hurt me, either. But, I reacted poorly. I’m sorry for snapping. And upsetting you.”

Geralt set another branch into the fire, his eyes narrowed as he thought, “I didn’t… hm…” he frowned and chewed at his chapped lips as he pieced his words together, “I didn’t think she hurt you. I thought you were… griping about a strict rule.”

Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief at getting full sentence responses, “To be fair, I was. And putting my foot in my mouth.” 

The corner of Geralt’s lips twitched up as he shook his head, “I’m sorry I shut down.”

“All’s forgiven,” Jaskier smiled, “I’m sorry I-”

“I know. Come here.” Geralt interrupted, holding a hand out to Jaskier as if to hold it over the fire. Jaskier took up residence across his lap instead, wrapping an arm around Geralt’s neck and laying his cheek on his shoulder, pressing his other palm to Geralt’s chest. Geralt held him securely in place and pressed a kiss to his forehead as he gently swayed, setting a soothing rhythm. 

“I missed you today,” Jaskier whispered, not wanting to break the spell of calm over their little campsite. 

“Don’t worry, I still thought you were cute.” Geralt chuckled, the low rumble under Jaskier’s palm soothing what was left of his worry. 

“Oh good!” Jaskier chirped, loading his words with an extra helping of sarcasm, “Now I’ve had a taste of your honey-sweet words, I might never be able to live without them!”

Geralt cracked a grin as he ran a hand through Jaskier’s silky, fine hair, “We can’t have that.”

“Of course not,” Jaskier giggled, more from the giddy feeling of a lifted weight from his chest than their banter as he lifted his head to look down at Geralt.

The witcher pulled him in for a soft kiss, after all, Geralt was still Geralt. Actions would always come easier than words for him. 

“I love you.” he sighed as their lips parted, only pulling away far enough to get a breath.

“I love you, too.” Jaskier grinned into the next kiss, holding Geralt close for the rest of the night. 

[the-fatal-impact]

Current mood...

[sabindark]

What if Geralt and Triss was not sterile? what if Triss was pregnant? what if the child was born with the eyes of a witcher?

[circadianaa]

welp. i decided to spend my night making a fact sheet of my headcanons about witcher’s eyes. 

[akelafang]

Jaskier the second Gearlt shows interest in getting married

JASKIER ENERGY! HE WOULD WEAR AND DO THIS!

@help-help-i-need-an-adult @everything-but-the-not-natural @hardcandythinking @fandom-junk-drawer @lucien-viktor @carrottheluvmachine @permanentlydepressedpigeon @hailhailsatan

[the9tailedbeast-blog]

god is real

[ophierian-vp]