#geralt and ciri end up in the audience at some point

[blooms-in-april]

In Oxenfurt there is a sacred tradition, which no one dares encroach upon: no one can be arrested during a theatre performance. And the scholars of Oxenfurt, for all their learning, are a dramatic, suspicious sort, and so the law stands. It's been taken advantage of by many a drunk and disorderly student, taking refuge in the audience of the Grand Theatre to evade the guard, until inevitably, the curtain falls and their reprieve is over.

When they come to arrest Professor Pankrantz, his students won't have it. He had come back to them quiet and broken this winter, more careless with his dissent, more bold in his defiance. He did not seem to care when the warrant was put out for his arrest, as an elvish sympathizer, a sodomite, and a conspirator against Nilfgaard.

"He knows the White Wolf will save him. He always does." Essi had said with false confidence, but the weeks pass and the university's protection wanes and the White Wolf does not come.

"He's not coming." Adrien whispers, hunched over his songbook. "We must do something."

"We will," Essi responds.

When he hears the guards outside his office, Jaskier puts down his quill for the last time. He swings open the door.

"Gentlemen!" He says. The armored faces are featureless, unmoving. "How would you like me?" They grab and cuff him hard across the head, then frogmarch him down the hall. His head rings like a great bell tolling the hour. He can feel the blood trickling out his ear.

There is a great crash, and a scuffle, and a large hand grabs him by the elbow. "Geralt." He whispers.

But it's not. Jeremiah smiles awkwardly, and holds his dented tuba in one hand. "I used to be a blacksmith before this." The quiet youth says. "Never thought it would come in handy again."

"My dear boy." Jaskier says as he's pulled along. "You shouldn't have. You saved my life."

"Your tutoring saved mine during finals. I think we're even, Professor."

Jaskier is hurried in through the backstage door, crowded with students carrying instruments, costumes, sheet music, and props. They all part way to let him through. "Top box, Professor." Essi says, hurrying him. "We saved it just for you."

He sits down, bewildered, as the guards shout outside and the orchestra tunes frantically. The curtain opens just as the guards make it into the auditorium. Everything hushes in that special breath before a show.

Essi steps on stage.

"Thank you and welcome to the members of the Oxenfurt Academy faculty, staff, and student body who have come to support this performance," she says. "We'd also like to welcome representatives of various law enforcement communities who have chosen to join us in the Academy Grand Theatre tonight. In the spirit of the arts, leave all discord at the door, and please enjoy this special performance by the students of Oxenfurt - 'The Adversities of Loving', a tribute to the life and works of Professor Julian Alfred Pankrantz."

She bows. The audience applauds. The play begins.

[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!

[endiness]

some quotes from lauren about the technical aspects and logistics behind adapting the books and making the show

"I don't think we've created a "better" story at all. What we tried to do is adapt the short stories as Sapkowski wrote them, to an entirely different medium. Shows like Black Mirror are episodic, as you point out, and not serialized. That works because Black Mirror will never become serialized. There is no bait-and-switch in season four, where you suddenly start following one single character episode after episode; if that happened, the built-in audience for Black Mirror would be confused. The rule with television is: the first episode has to represent what the series will be. That's how television is sold (ie, the studio that's footing the 100 million dollar bill knows what they're purchasing) and it's how television is marketed (ie, the audience that shows up knows what they'll be tuning in to watch for the next year or two or seven.) The same goes for the characters. Yes, you can always introduce more characters as you go along in a show. We'll be doing that as well -- there's a whole new set of fun characters coming in S2. But it was important to me that from the very beginning, the audience know that this story is about Geralt, yes, but it's also about Yennefer and about Ciri and -- most importantly -- about what happens when they find each other and become a family."

"The number of episodes is based on the story we're telling, our sense of what an audience will watch (and finish), and the budget. When you're starting a show, and don't know if it will be a success, more episodes generally means that you get to spend less money on every episode. So we knew we didn't want to do that. Eight felt like the magic number. We're approaching S2 in a similar way we did with S1: what are the stories Sapkowski was telling, and why? What building blocks do we need to set up future stories? Is there anything we missed from S1 that we want to include? And what will work on television? For instance -- no one wants to see Triss have diarrhea for three episodes. So what are we trying to glean from that in the books, and how do we present that onscreen?"

"The checks and balances system includes me, the executives at Netflix, and the producers, who all offer notes on every part of the process: outline, script, and cuts. What happens between seasons is that we look at all of the episodes and discuss internally what worked and what didn't -- when we thought we needed exposition, for instance, but turns out that it came across clunky. And then we course-correct."

"And then there are inherent limitations of the television medium — episodes 102 and 103 (adaptations of “The Edge of the World” and “The Witcher”) initially came in at over 90 minutes each, so we found ourselves having to trim back certain details and scenes. It was a tough lesson to learn, for me — I had this enthusiastic attitude of “But I want to do it all!” when the truth is, it doesn’t all fit. It’s one of the biggest changes we’re incorporating into season two: we’re writing shorter scripts, so we’re not losing important moments and characters on the edit room floor."

"One of the biggest changes we’ve made is to make sure that the scripts aren’t too long. It’s a terrible thing when you shoot a story that you’re proud of, and then it’s 95 minutes long and you’re trying to fit it into 60 minutes of television. You end up cutting stuff that you know would be great, or would be important."

"Casting Freya as Ciri was also really difficult. We started with a very young, in the first script, Ciri was 11. Very quickly we started looking at 11-year-olds, and we realized a couple things. One, the production constraints of this show. It's a huge endeavor, we shot for a lot of days, and a lot of nights actually. And when you're shooting with someone that young, it's very restrictive. One of the first things that I was told is that someone that young [of a] Ciri is not going to be able to be that big of a part of the story. And I was like, well, that's not going to work. So we did age up the character a little bit."

[blackberrywars]

Berry’s Masterpost

♥️ A new and improved, mostly comprehensive version of my masterpost, to be used as a guide to my works and/or my blog ♥️

Tags to find/block posts: #berry’s fics, #berry’s games, #the witcher, #legend of korra, #osha violation, #bears, #berry cute in the berry queue

Asks/PMs: always welcome, whether we are mutuals or strangers. If you want to talk/ask about my blog/fics, or if you just want to chat!

Ask Games: I’m basically always down to play these, no matter how long ago I reblogged it, so please feel free to send an ask about anything. All the games I’ve participated in should be in #berry’s games

Fics: all available on my AO3, some available right here on tumblr. There’s a lot for the witcher, especially wlw Lambert/Aiden, but I’ve also branched out into writing for the Legend of Korra.

♥️ The Witcher ♥️

Request Fics

Kitten-Tossing: (Teen/959/No Archive Warnings Apply) Guxart discovers a new and efficient method for keeping his rowdy kittens entertained, all while developing their sense of balance and spatial awareness. (On Tumblr)

Waltzing Wolves: (Teen/1,049/No Archive Warnings Apply) Geralt has seen many, many things in his very, very long lifetime. He has never, as his partner Jaskier points out, champagne glass tipped just so, seen Agent Eskel dance a waltz. (On Tumblr)

Copy-Cat: (Mature/2,364/No Archive Warnings Apply) Keira thinks she’s rescuing a half-dead Cat for her boyfriend, only to realize she’s saved the wrong one. Oh well. (On Tumblr)

Grampa’s House: (General Audiences/1,945/No Archive Warnings Apply) Vesemir struggles to figure out what to do while watching his five year-old granddaughter for the weekend because he’s an old-ass man with old-ass man hobbies. Turns out she likes that just fine. (On Tumblr)

Two Cloaks, XXXL: (Explicit/1,376/No Archive Warnings Apply) Erland is determined to win the most difficult battle he's ever faced: getting Arnaghad to wear weather-appropriate clothing. No matter how much the big bastard insists he's fine without it. (On Tumblr)

2022 Witcher Summer Camp

With Her Own Two Hands: (Teen/2678/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden spends her winter building a safe, warm nest for her baby wolf, and doesn’t regret a single splinter. (On Tumblr)

Flint And Steel: (Teen/2848/No Archive Warnings Apply) Jaskier watches Geralt and Yennefer tear each other apart, and decides that, at the very least, Ciri shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. (On Tumblr)

The Art Of Threats: (Explicit/3433/No Archive Warnings Apply) Ivo hates the sun, and he hates being sweaty, but he hates the thought of a beardless Junod even more. Cue the filth. (On Tumblr) 

Calm Before The Storm- (Explicit/4879/No Archive Warnings Apply) Arnaghad and Erland have a final confrontation before the end, but they both know they’re a tragedy in the making. (On Tumblr)

Half-Drowned Kitten- (Teen/1962/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden would have gotten herself killed chasing beautiful sirens, except Lambert is there to save her, and she falls in love. (On Tumblr)

Guxart’s Fables- (Teen/4350/No Archive Warnings Apply) Every night, Guxart reads a fable to a tangled pile of kittens, and on this one, he teaches them a slightly biased version of their history. (On Tumblr)  

Laiden Gets Laid (Again and Again)

Sweeter Than Pride- (Explicit/2524/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden is so fucking proud of her baby wolf... and all she wants to do is take her completely apart, as low as it makes her feel sometimes.

Collars Of Many Kinds- (Explicit/1830/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden hates Lambert's armor, specifically the ugly, flaking, fucking hideous collar. Her baby wolf deserves better than that, and she's damn well gonna get it.

Curiosity Killed The Cat- (Explicit/5142/No Archive Warnings Apply) Lambert tries to get in some stress relief, and Aiden is very accidentally a peeping tom. It works out for both of them

Digging Graves  —Crawling Out

No Grave- (Mature/2293/No Archive Warnings Apply) Jad Karadin kills Aiden and buries her six feet deep. It’s not gonna be enough to keep her from her from her baby wolf.

As A Shrike- (Explicit/8700/Graphic Descriptions of Violence & Major Character Death) One by one, Lambert hunts down Aiden’s killers, and absolutely nothing and no one can stop her

You’re Good To Me- (Mature/4371/No Archive Warnings Apply); Aiden crawls from her grave and gets help from an unexpected source. Lots of healing and re-learning how to witcher again.  

♥️ Legend of Korra/Avatar the Last Airbender ♥️

His Clothes: (Teen/3,213/No Archive Warnings Apply) A newly-liberated P’li desperately needs something to wear, and Zaheer is more than happy to give her the clothes off his back. Too bad he’s kind of into it. (On Tumblr)

All Things End: (Teen/1,623/No Archive Warnings Apply) A re-write of Ghazan’s escape scene where he realizes his tattoos have faded along with his hope, just before Zaheer arrives and he kisses him on the mouth. (On Tumblr)

[hanzajesthanza]

What is your witcher hot take? Mine is that rats didn't deserve to die like that, cuz they were just children that suffered through unimaginable pain. Ofc, they would probably grow into tyrants, but who knows, they never seemed straight up evil to me. They were bad influence on Ciri, but in some strange way, they were probably one of rare people that did love her. So like, i never found their deaths satisfying, unlike most people...

good take. i always thought the point of the rats, ciri becoming falka, and bonhart stalking them as death was that contempt, violence, and revenge are a cycle. dealing out death and misery makes death and misery find their ways to you. one bloody revenge just means there will be more to come. of course, what's satisfying is very personal, but i think it does a disservice to imagine the rats as evil, but bonhart as somehow good for killing them. no, we are dealing with... lesser and greater evils. no matter if this is the catalyst for ciri to eventually stop being an evil herself.

the rats and ciri are lesser evils. nilfgaard is a greater evil. bonhart, for me, represents the "true evil," because he is a pure sadist who only captures, tortures, and kills because it brings him pleasure and money. in other words, he is the anti-geralt (geralt representing the good), he becomes ciri's anti-father, and is, essentially... precisely what people imagine of witchers - killing for the pleasure and for money.

and above all else, the rats' deaths were horrific and traumatizing for ciri, so i don't find that satisfying, i see her at her lowest... sapkowski has written some other satisfying deaths (if i said them it may be spoilers for the hussite trilogy and crossroads of ravens) and i didn't get that vibe from chapter 2 of tower of the swallow, i got a miserable and wretched vibe instead.

(by the way, loving your art!)

as for my hot takes... good question. i can't tell if these are hot takes, maybe i have some metaphorical hypoesthesia when it comes to judging temperature of takes, but... here are things that me when i had just joined the fandom would have disagreed with, or known nothing about.

the hanza's deaths work narratively and are not random or bad writing. it's a successful tragedy and although it's painful, it is true that you can clearly see the direction they are going in. if any of them had survived, that would have been a disservice to them and would have made the series feel like a children's series. authors who are afraid to kill off their characters are cowards who don't want to offend their audiences, or who want to be prepared with an already-developed cast for future spinoffs.

angouleme's character is actually crucial to geralt's company, and people who say she's irrelevant need to read manuscript discovered in a dragon's cave. yes, her inclusion was coincidental, but let me also remind that ciri was also a surprise

"there is too much arthurian legend in the last book" there is not enough of it.

"nimue and condwiramurs are boring" i like them. also, people forget that nimue was introduced in baptism of fire, she wasn't just randomly made up just for lady of the lake. i like her, and she is us, she is the child entranced by the legend. nimue is actually so important because... another take... the witcher series (and nearly literally everything andrzej sapkowski writes) is about love, the power of love to save and redeem, and the pain and suffering in its absence (love = grail = woman). but nimue's love, what she saves, is not for another person, not for the literal girl ciri, but for the legend of ciri, which saved her. the legend saved her from her mundane life of toil, it inspired her to make something more of herself. so nimue, in return, saves the legend, saves ciri to go to her ending, which everyone had forgotten. the love nimue displays is so unique because it is not that for a lover, friend, relative, or child, but that for a legend... i find her story and her connection to ciri deep and beautiful.

the last wish is a misleading introduction to the series, because the series is mostly comprised of the saga, which takes a different format and takes the characters much deeper than the first short stories. i think diving into the witcher series as a contemporary english reader with no context is not the best way to do it, because without context it makes no sense why this begins with short stories and transitions into being novels. i have one solution to this which is to include a foreword at the beginning of the last wish, sword of destiny, and blood of elves, to explain how witcher was originally published in the magazine fantastyka, later fixed-up, and later came the saga. the original polish editions even explained this on the back covers, so i'm not sure why they have been deprived of their context. it's frustrating.

geralt and yennefer's relationship (and generally when sapkowski writes a lead heterosexual romances) works better through symbolism and storytelling, than through imagining every little interaction between them. in other words, it's not created to be a tumblr ship, it's more like something literary. yes, they have some beautiful and some funny interactions, but the real appeal of the relationship is what they give/receive to each other, how they learn and grow for the other, how they're both damaged people who find salvation (aha, love, grail) in each other.

the portrayal of female characters is sometimes objectifying, sometimes eyerolling, sometimes cringe, but the claims of misogyny in the books are overblown and in general misunderstood. if you look at the hardboiled crime fiction genre (something which inspired the witcher a lot), sapkowski is actually subverting a ton of misogynistic tropes with the witcher, to make the women come out 'on top' instead of the male protagonist. i just want to scream about how geralt and yennefer are presented in an egalitarian light in the last wish, and how the saga is about the right of ciri's bodily autonomy and woe to anyone who tries to deprive her of that. i don't know how people in one moment can roast sapkowski for being staunchly and openly pro-choice, and then call him misogynist the next. do you not realize the contradiction? misogynistic treatments of characters occur, but it is not what drives the series. the actual series, again, like kind of everything sapkowski writes, is driven by the power of woman and femininity. and the marginalized, the downtrodden, the scapegoated, the tortured... and, also by the same coin, magic. i just want people to read what andrzej sapkowski has actually written and said on the topic of gender and women instead of just doing one read of the last wish and sword of destiny and drawing all conclusions from that. and i want people to also look at what his contemporaries in the polish sf/f genre were saying about women at the time. again, people have a lack of context, which leads to a lack of comprehension.

i... it's criminal that this series isn't more popular amongst my demographic (young adult... american... lesbians...?). less of a hot take, i'm just whining. but it is hard to try and look for fantasy book discussions and be met with tiktok romantasy spice, which is most popular... this is why i'm grateful for all the friends i've met on here ;w;

witcher IS a series for fun and entertainment, but it got me back into reading "for fun" and the best part of it is that it's not just insular, self-contained, self-absorbed. the best part is that it encourages you to read *in general*, which is something that not all books do. there is a sad assumption that anything "for fun" has to be shallow, that's not the case at all!

(as an american) americans have trouble understanding the witcher. it's not impossible, you have the capacity to learn, but you need to be openminded about learning, and not understanding things right away/innately. so it is easier for a lot of the american audience to assume the witcher was created by lauren hissrich or that cd projekt red is an american company.

the hussite trilogy is technically (as in writing skill) better than the witcher, but it is so tightly wound that it's more difficult to come up with fanfiction and headcanons, to make it one's own. the pacing is more entertaining, but it moves so fast you get less contemplative reflections. it suffers from its own success, so this is why i can't say which one is better/worse. it's not all just about writing skill

[themovieblogonline]

The Witcher Season 3: How Geralt Evolved Beyond The Grumpy Hero Archetype

The Witcher probably gave Henry Cavill his biggest hit outside of Superman. But he was also perfectly suited for the role of the silent but strong Geralt of Rivia. The character was an instant success with audiences, becoming one of the bigger factors behind The Witcher’s success. So much so that fans are concerned about the status of season 4, with news of Cavill’s exit and subsequence replacement by Liam Hemsworth. But despite that The Witcher season 3 Geralt further evolves the character beyond his initial depiction. For the better. Please note that the following will contain some spoilers for the previous 2 seasons of The Witcher, and some of season 3 part 1 as well. Geralt From Seasons 1 And 2 Of The Witcher When audiences first met Geralt of Rivia (Henry Cavill) he was a quiet and vicious character. A man of few words, the mutant monster hunter rarely spoke, letting his sword do the talking. It was perfect. Especially when Geralt paired his adventures with the bard Jaskier (Joey Batey) who spoke more than enough for the both of them. Geralt's strong and sombre demeanour was perfect when facing monsters and harsh and brutal truths. The depiction even worked when he met Yennefer of Vengerberg (Anya Chalotra) and developed the intense sexual tension that added to the success of the show that much more. The tumultuous and tormented Yennefer, desperate to find a magical way to reverse her inability to conceive a child, coupled with a man who never expresses anything; a genius contrast that added to their chemistry even more. The Grumpiness Of Geralt Worked Even Better With Ciri By the time season 1 ended, The Witcher cemented Geralt as a stone-cold monster hunter. So when his destiny became intertwined with Ciri’s in a climactic embrace, the stage was set for a Lone Wolf and Cub-type story to take place in season 2. And The Witcher season 3 Geralt is quite different from season 2 as well. Season 2 paved the way for the grumpy Geralt to have to deal with a young and impulsive teenage girl. Becoming the reluctant father to a princess with powers was a great dynamic that season 2 explored, without ever going over the top. Geralt even sacrificed any romantic happiness he might have sought with Yennefer, in exchange for being there for Ciri. But the tension between them never went away. Their ‘will they-won’t they’ dynamic was consistent through season 2. But with them finally becoming a family in the season 2 finale, the dynamic shifted drastically with the depiction of The Witcher season 3 Geralt. In The Witcher Season 3 Geralt Has Grown When The Witcher season 3 begins, Geralt is fully part of Ciri's life, horsing around with her and just begin a full-on father to her. A natural progression from his depiction in season 2. It is such a great move, to have the character change, given where he is in the story. Even his dynamic with Yennefer has evolved. Spending that much time together sees the two openly discussing their feelings about one another. While initiated by Yennefer's incessant onslaught of love letters, eventually Geralt shares his feelings about her too. But even going beyond The Witcher season 3 Geralt’s relationship with the main leads, and even other areas of his life has evolved. When faced with the news of his mother’s passing, Geralt finally opens up about her. Geralt’s mother famously left him behind to become a Witcher; a tragic plot point in season 1. But in The Witcher season 3 Geralt not only discusses but shared a sweet monologue about this mom, bringing closure to his issues with her. Why Geralt Changing Is The Best Part Of The Witcher Season 3 We’ve seen the grumpy hero turned softy character arc many times. But the subtlety with which it happens with Geralt in The Witcher is incredibly well done. There are no definitive moments where Geralt softens or changes. The writers don’t depict his eventual transition as comedy or as the expense of a joke. There are no wink-and-nod moments that showcase Geralt becoming more loving or romantic. Characters don’t call it out or mock it. It just is. Geralt’s evolution from a loner butcher into a reluctant father and lover affected other aspects of his personality, as evident by the monologue about his mother. It’s a subtle transition that could have become trite if handled any other way. But in The Witcher season 3, Geralt evolved beyond that archetype into a fully rounded character that isn’t defined by what happened to him in the past. The Witcher season 3 part 1 is now streaming on Netflix. What did you think about this transition of Geralt in The Witcher season 3? Let me know in the comments below or follow me on Twitter at @theshahshahid to discuss more. Read the full article

[weaknwanting]

was it really how you sing it, dear?

read on ao3 here

geraskier (duh), 6.1k (yikes!), fluff with only a tiny bit of angst, but happy ending of course. no warnings, gen audiences. mutual pining my beloved. this is the second part of my geraskier x songs series

In the months since the fight against Voleth Meir, Geralt has only gotten worse.

Sullen and grumpy, he stalks Kaer Mohren’s halls until he is certain that he will pull it down, brick by brick, unless he can get out. He feels restless and trapped, a horrible mixture for a man used to being free to go where he will, to do what he chooses. Even his fellow witchers get annoyed, try to get him to leave, as he’s doing no good to himself here.

It’s all because of Jaskier.

He had left, only a week after the fight. Hadn’t said even a word to Geralt, but slunk out the keep in the middle of the night. Geralt had woken to find his room empty, not that Jaskier had even brought much of anything to the keep in the first place. With Jaskier gone, the keep seemed to echo the thick silence. Even though Geralt was used to the quiet here, it was suddenly deafening. It seems that Jaskier had left his trace on everything, even the air and Geralt’s own feelings towards his home.

Geralt tried so hard not to think of Jaskier, and failed dramatically. They had hardly talked even after the battle, but Geralt couldn’t even point out the reason. There was a tension, and Jaskier never seemed to be comfortable talking with Geralt, but he would never say why, even when Geralt forced himself to ask. Geralt could not help his thoughts from straying to Jaskier, trying to understand where they stood, what he had done.

He knew that he had been cold to Jaskier, but he was preoccupied. He had Ciri to worry about, and Yennefer to be mad at, and brothers to mourn. And he knew damn well that he had needed to ignore Jaskier during the battle, to keep him safe. But he couldn’t convince himself that he had done nothing wrong, that he was not to blame. He should have tried harder, he knew, to talk to Jaskier, to thank him.

After a particularly rough day where Geralt had growled at Vesemir for trying to ask him what the problem was, he’d had enough. He packed up his swords, armor, and Roach’s supplies, loading it all in his saddlebags. He knew that Ciri would be fine – she was heavily immersed in her training with Yennefer, and was progressing well. She loved it, and knew just as well as anyone that Geralt was unable to be here any longer.

So, he left.

He traveled just as he always has, following stories of monsters ravaging villages and cities. He would go where he was pointed, killing anything he could find. It was easy, straightforward. There didn’t seem to be any complicated cases – no intelligent creatures simply causing havoc, no mages dodging his path.

His thoughts still stayed with Jaskier, but the action helped. There was not a lot of room for rumination and guilt while in the middle of battles with creatures three times his size who were trying to eat him.

At some point along his way, though, he started hearing whispers. Of the famous bard’s new songs, which were said to be some of his best. Yearning and heartbroken, they sang of an ardent but disasterous love. Geralt is sure that Jaskier has only fallen in love with another countess or prince and will soon be over his heartbreak.

Still, for some reason whenever he hears a snippet of one of the songs, or listens to villagers in the streets wail over Jaskier’s broken heart, he feels his own chest tighten and spine crawl. He tells himself it is lingering guilt over his treatment of Jaskier and nothing more. Certainly not jealousy or longing for something he has never known and held in his own two hands.

He doesn’t hear a full song for himself until he is recovering from a particularly tiring contract in the back of a dark and reeking tavern, tucked in a worn-out wooden booth. The beer flows loosely and it isn’t half bad. Geralt is content, as much as he can be with the constant sense of unease seated deep in his stomach and bones that has made his body a home since he left Kaer Mohren. Or has it been since before?

Some farm boy with scruffy hair has camped out in the tavern for as long as Geralt has been there, singing the songs of the famous troubadours who are rarely able to travel to small town taverns to sing. They are in high demand in courts, in the homes of lower nobles and in thriving cities, where the coin falls from pockets freely and in abundance. So the country singers take their place, carrying their songs farther than one person alone could reach.

Even Geralt can admit that the boy isn’t half bad. His voice is deep and flows around the words like water over rocks, tumbling and bubbling. Nothing like Jaskier, though. The emotion is missing; it’s in the words, but not in the air the way it is with Jaskier. A pang, in the heart again. Constant.

The boy finishes his drink and starts his next song, at the request of several girls clustered and tittering in the opposite corner of the tavern. They are surely too young for drink, Geralt thinks, but seem safe enough as a group. He always makes sure, when he is in places like this, to keep an eye on those who look like they might be easy prey to a hungry man deep in his cups.

I am so tied up in you, not like a slipknot, dear heart…

The lyrics fade in and out of Geralt’s awareness, and it takes him a while to register that this must be one of Jaskier’s newer ballads. He had heard talk of the term dear heart that seems to have made its way into Jaskier’s songs as a personal signature, and which has many of the girls in the corner sobbing straightway.

Who but I would wash your hair, humm,

when you are shot, dear heart?

He’s paying attention, now. It may be the only way for him to get a glimpse into Jaskier’s life since he has last seen him. Someone was shot? He thought he was the only one who ever got within reach of the elves with their deadly bows. The singer continues, crooning the words, low and steady.

For I could never hate you, even if I ought

Not even all the times we fought

Did you ever even care,

With your swords and your stupid hair?

I tried so hard to love you

But you did not seem to hear

For what do you yearn?

It must not be me, or else you would return

But know this, dear heart –

If I don’t make it back from where I’ve gone,

Just know I loved you all along…

The singer stills and breaths deeply, bowing and taking in his applause, thunderous in the small wooden building. The song, though short, echoes against the walls and remains in the tears on the checks of the girls and even some of the men.

Geralt is stunned, even though an observer would not be able to tell. He processes the lyrics over and over. How many people with swords does Jaskier know? Does he wash the hair of all of his lovers? Geralt didn’t think so. But he had done, for Geralt, a few times when he was too tired after a fight to even raise his arms. Jaskier had refused to share a little inn bed in the only room that they could get with Geralt when he even slightly smelt of selkiemore guts. So, he poured water over Geralt’s head until all the gunk was gone before rubbing soap all over his scalp and down his hair.

Maybe he does that for everyone.

------------------

Geralt can’t see past the song. He thinks of nothing else for weeks, finding himself getting injured more and more in fights when he is too slow to raise his blade. It is getting out of hand, to the point where a kikimora almost takes his foot off.

He knows what he has to do. He must seek out Jaskier, finally, and get some answers. He has to know if the song is about him. Geralt might be thick, but he isn’t that thick. The lyrics of that song are much too close to their own relationship to be a coincidence.

The song might be about him, easily – except Jaskier has never loved him.

How could he?

Surely, the song is about someone else. But then why does it contain elements that only fit if it is regarding him? It makes no sense, and he needs an explanation.

So, he searches. He follows the knowledge of the lords and nobles who say they have seen Jaskier, from Kagen in Sodden to Maribor in Temeria, all the way to Vattweir in Aedirn. Any hint of him, he follows. He doesn’t even quite know why at first, but he is starting to figure it out.

He wants the song to be about him. He wants the love poured out to be for him, even with the heartbreak. That, he thinks he can fix. He knows that he caused Jaskier pain, and that even though Jaskier might have some affection towards him, Geralt has caused him so much hurt that it might be dried up by now. But if he can fix that, and the love is for him…well, he will not live his life not knowing what he could have had.

Even if the song isn’t for him, Geralt has realized something, and it is too late to stuff it back into the little box in his chest. He has to tell him, even if it doesn’t change anything.

He loves him. At least, he thinks he does. He has never felt it before, so how does he know what it’s called? In any case, it certainly feels like something to write songs and ruin lives over.

Though he really hopes that last bit doesn’t happen.

------------------

Finally, after months of searching and only taking contracts whenever he is in the area, he finds him.

Where else, but in a tavern. Where it all started. Round and round in endless circles. Nothing that ever happens is new, no new stories are ever told.

Jaskier is singing, of course. Singing his heart out, it seems. The crowd is once again crying and laughing in equal measure, full of the emotions that only Jaskier seems to be able to draw out of people with his songs. He puts everything into them, holds nothing back. And the audience responds in kind.

Geralt only enters the door in time to hear the last few lines of a long song, based on Jaskier’s lack of breath. He had been directed to this establishment by a disgruntled innkeeper who said that Jaskier had been staying there the last few weeks, coming back even after the very last drinkers had turned in.

Ever a gentleman, the innkeeper said, but he would never stop composing and playing his lute even late into the night. He never brings people back with him though, apparently. Strange, for Jaskier.

The lines float through the air even outside the door, carried far by Jaskier’s emotions and powerful voice. It’s a different song than the one Geralt had heard, but the theme is the same. Craving and anguish and tenderness.

It wasn’t very long for us,

When you’re young it isn’t hard to trust

When we met I was too young to know

You should never trust a heart that slow

Can I sip the sunlight from your eyes?

It’s so tempting

But perhaps not so wise

But I wanted to, I wanted you

Oh Gods, I really did

He lets the last few strums of his lute sing out on their own, accompanied only by his breathing and the murmurs of the crowd. The moment his fingers lift from the strings the crowd bursts to life, applause and cheers raising to the dusty rafters. Jaskier accepts the praise graciously, with a tired bow and a hint of a smile.

Then he raises his head, and his smile disappears.

Their eyes meet over the crowd, cornflower blue and buttercup yellow over a wave of browns and greys. The brightest colors in the room, drawn to nothing else.

Geralt just stands where he is, frozen, hoping that Jaskier will not be able to resist coming to see why he is here, after so long and so indifferent a parting.

He is not disappointed.

Jaskier puts his lute in a case and leans it on the wall, his fingers visibly trembling even from this distance. He weaves through the crowd, bowing his head at the congratulations and thanks from those he passes. He ends up reaching Geralt after what feels like a million years.

“Hi.”

“Um. Hi.”

Gods Geralt, really? ‘Um, hi?’ That’s all you got? Get it together!

But it’s hard for him to take his own brain’s advice. Some of Jaskier’s hair is pinned back in the front, and it is slightly longer than the last time they saw each other. His clothes are tighter fitting too, obviously a higher quality as a result of his recent popularity and the associated wealth. A deep yellow shirt with its laces slightly undone, and black trousers tucked into calf high boots.

Geralt swallows just a bit.

“I had to come find you. We have to talk.”

“Oh, do we?” There’s a little smirk on Jaskier’s face, but it is sad, too. Geralt has no idea what Jaskier thinks he is here to talk about, but it probably isn’t anything very good.

“Well, I have a room in an inn right around the corner. Shall we…go there?”

Geralt nods, not really sure what else to say. “Yes. That sounds…fine.”

“Good, I guess.” Jaskier goes to grab his lute from the corner and the small pile of coins that has piled up in the hat he left on the floor. Geralt’s fingers move slightly, reaching towards Jaskier and dropping when he has left Geralt’s space. He draws them back to his side and flexes them slightly, trying to force out their desire to feel Jaskier’s warmth against their tips.

They leave the tavern together in silence, neither of them sure what to say. Jaskier doesn’t know what Geralt is here to talk about, and Geralt doesn’t really want to start a conversation in the middle of the street, not when he isn’t sure how it will end. In heartbreak again, or happiness? A parting or a coming together? In any case, the street isn’t the place.

In the inn, Jaskier greets the innkeeper as he is settling another guest’s tab. The older man is bubbly and welcoming, asking Jaskier how his last performance was. Jaskier is grace itself, nodding his head and smiling along. Only Geralt can tell how forced it is.

“And you’re finally bringing someone back, I see!” The innkeeper tries to wink subtly at Geralt, but it entirely unsuccessful, and both Jaskier and Geralt can see the sly grin on his face.

“Well, something like that anyway” Jaskier mumbles.

They climb the narrow and creaky stairs to Jaskier’s rented room, the tight space finally allowing Geralt to sense Jaskier’s scent more clearly. Apprehension, definitely. Confusion and a bit of unhappiness, but no fear. Never fear, not at Geralt.

In the inn room, Jaskier places his lute in the corner and rummages around on his table a little.

“Well, it isn’t much, perhaps, but it is certainly better than places I’ve been in the past. I never really needed much, anyway. More than you, maybe, but I like the comfortable rooms, even if they are a little plain and maybe dinky. Less high maintenance than a lot of people, I’m sure.” He’s rambling, a sure sign that he is uncomfortable and feels out of his depth.

“So, um,” he clears his throat and fidgets a bit more. “Why are you here, Geralt? I thought you had Ciri to take care of, and I’m sure the other witchers really want you to be at the keep with them.”

Geralt shakes his head. “Not really. I was bringing them down. When I found that you left… I don’t know. I couldn’t act like myself anymore. I felt trapped there, in those stones. I was aggravating them.” Jaskier nods slowly, not saying anything, letting him go on. “And…I wanted to find you. Needed,” he corrects, “needed to find you.”

Jaskier huffs a little and raises his eyes to the wood ceiling through which a slight cool breeze is drifting. “Why? You never have before.”

Geralt acknowledges this with a dip of his own head. He has been thinking of what he was going to say to Jaskier for this whole time he has been searching, but now that they are here, he finds himself unsure of everything that he had planned.

He forces it out anyway. This is no time to be frightened, he reminds himself.

“Did you really love me? The way you wrote, in your songs. Or are they even about me?” The words are blurted out, almost too fast to be understood. He doesn’t ask or was that another exaggeration, another fabrication for the delight and fancies of your audiences?

Jaskier scoffs, looking down at his boots which scrape restlessly against the hard ground. “You were never meant to hear those. I thought…” He raises his eyes to the sky. Geralt notices that they are blinking rather fast. “Well, I thought that you wouldn’t be going into taverns much, without me to drag you there. So I wrote them thinking you wouldn’t hear them".

“Well, I did hear them. One, anyway. And now part of another. And I need to know, Jaskier, please. Were you singing…about me?”

For the first time since the tavern, Jaskier looks directly at Geralt. His eyes are glistening now, and Geralt has to tense all of his muscles to stop himself from closing the distance between them and pressing him to his chest. It’s been so long, and now that he is here with Jaskier the urge is almost irresistible. How did he ever withstand it before? He can’t stand seeing Jaskier upset, has never been able to stand it, and he knows that physical comfort is always able to make Jaskier feel better.

Knowing this whole time that Jaskier might be hurting because of him, because of his inability to stop from lashing out when he is frustrated or to say things when they need saying, has been slowly chipping pieces off him. A carpenter carving away at a block of soft wood. Hearing Jaskier’s songs, sad and broken and yearning. Chip chip. Remembering how Jaskier had left without a word, how Geralt had done nothing to keep him in Kaer Mohren. Strips of wood pulled off the log, pieces of Geralt’s heart piercing his ribcage.

Not anymore, though. Even just seeing Jaskier is slowly pulling his heart back together again. And Geralt knows that he will do his best to make this right, if he can. If Jaskier answers the question in the way that Geralt hopes he will.

Jaskier sighs loudly in response to his question, almost a groan. Geralt can pinpoint the exact moment where he gives up, gives in. Jaskier has never been good at not saying exactly what he feels and thinks, at withholding from giving Geralt a piece of his mind.

“What do you want me to say? That, yes, I was writing about you? That I knew you could never love me too, not because you aren’t capable, but because I’m me? That even knowing that couldn’t stop me from hoping, that maybe, maybe I was wrong? That I’m afraid I did love you as much as I wrote? That I’m afraid of how much I love you, what I would do for you? Fine. That’s all true. And more than that, too.

“I thought that the fact you never sent me away all those years meant that perhaps…perhaps you might have come to see me. To care for me. And then we went to Kaer Mohren, and you never spared me a second glance. So, I guess I was wrong. So I left.”

Geralt watches Jaskier take several deep breaths, wiping the streaky tears off his cheeks. He turns in circles a few times, once again trying to avoid Geralt’s eyes.

“You weren’t wrong.”

Jaskier’s head snaps up and he stills entirely for the first time since they have been standing here.

“What?”

Geralt takes a cautious step forward, his hands itching to reach up to take Jaskier’s. He doesn’t, though. He is afraid that any movement too fast, too sudden, will scare him away. And Geralt isn’t sure that he could withstand spending even a second longer apart from Jaskier. The way he feels living without him…it’s like trying to catch a breath underwater, like trying to maintain balance on a highwire. Impossible and terrifying and not something he ever wants to do.

Letting him walk out of Kaer Mohren was the biggest mistake he’d ever made; he knew that now. Seeing Jaskier in front of him again makes him absolutely certain, more than he had ever been about anything.

“You weren’t...wrong. About any of it.”

Jaskier is trembling just a bit now, and he shakes his head vigorously. “No. You can’t do this to me, Geralt. Don’t you know the power you have over me? What your words do to me? If you say anything to me, and then walk away, I’ll shatter into a million pieces. And you won’t be able to pick me up again.”

He isn’t just distressed – he is angry, even. His voice grows rushed and loud, his hands moving rapidly around in the air.

“You do this, every time. Even if you don’t do anything, you pull me back in. And you make me think that it will be better, and that we are friends, even though you’ll never admit it. Or treat me like it! I do everything for you, and what do you do? Help me out at a banquet, sure, but then blame me for all of your own actions! As if I didn’t tell you to stay away from Yennefer from the moment we met her, as if I didn’t tell you to stay away from the dragon hunt, as if I was the one who made you ask for the Law of Surprise like an idiot!”

He’s pacing and breathing hard, his hands alternatively raking through his hair and wringing the bottom of his shirt. His eyes are wide and slightly crazed, and Geralt is quite taken aback. He knows this side of Jaskier, has been on the receiving side many a time, but it’s harder to know what to do about it when he is trying to tell Jaskier how he feels.

“I can’t keep coming back to you, Geralt. Not when you didn’t care enough to even talk to me at Kaer Mohren, not even after I brought Ciri – lovely girl, by the way – hundreds of miles to Kaer Mohren by myself. I didn’t even warrant a conversation or a glance! So forgive me if I won’t follow you around and sing your praises anymore. I won’t do that, when you will walk away again and again when you get sick of it. I mean, why are you even here?”

Now Geralt is the one shaking his head. “I won’t walk away. I won’t. Listen to me, Jaskier. You weren’t wrong, before. I did – I do. Care about you. Have for a long time, except I never knew it, or maybe just never knew how to say it.”

His hands twitch again, aching to close the few feet between them and touch every bit of Jaskier he can reach. He knows that his touch would make Jaskier crumble, that he would be able to convince him of his feelings without a word. But he owes him this, and more. Owes him every word in his heart, the ones he has only just started to find.

“The reason, in Kaer Mohren, that I didn’t look at you, or go to you to protect you, was because I knew how Voleth Meir works. She finds your weakness, the gaping wound in your heart, and she twists it, makes it hurt so badly, you would do anything to make it stop. That’s you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier has calmed down a little, still pacing a few steps but at least is listening to what Geralt has to say. His eyes are searching, peering into Geralt’s being like no one else ever has. It’s scary, how much he sees him. None of Geralt’s wounds or regrets are safe in the face of Jaskier’s gaze.

“You’re the wound in my heart, the one thing that has the most power to tear me wide open so that I could never be fixed. And you are most definitely my weakness. My biggest weakness. For you, to protect you, I would do anything.”

Jaskier is silent, not wanting to interrupt Geralt when he is finally spilling the thoughts and feelings that he has kept inside himself, that he has not known how to say. Jaskier would never stop Geralt from feeling, from connecting with another being.

“So, I had to pretend that wasn’t true. I had to ignore you, pretend that I didn’t care, and that you were nothing to me. I knew letting Voleth Meir know my...feelings for you, would be to sign your death warrant. She would use you, to get to me. Or she would draw the hurt from my heart, or yours, to kill us all. There was so much hurt, in my heart. And maybe in yours.

“I knew that if you got injured, in that fight, that I would never recover. I wouldn’t know where to go anymore, where to turn. In the past, I have always turned to you. What would I do, if you were gone? But I had to stay away from you, to trust that the others would protect you.”

Jaskier steps forward slowly while he talks, looking at him straight on with uncertain eyes.

“And then, all these months, I thought you were better off, that you would move past me. I thought me ignoring you would have been enough to force you away for good. And I was kind of happy about that – you would be safer than you could ever be with me.

“But Gods, your songs…” Geralt shakes his head again, eyes cast to the ground. “If I had known that you felt anything like...that, for me, I never would have let you go. I would have found the words, then, to tell you how I felt.”

“And how is that? How do you feel about me?” Jaskier is only a foot away now, his scent enveloping Geralt. Yet, he cannot for the life of him tell what it is. Hurt? Hope? Love? Despair, anguish, happiness, uncertainty? All emotions that Geralt is sure that he has caused Jaskier at one point or another.

Geralt finally sums up the courage, has enough hope that Jaskier will not flee from him, that he reaches out and touches his hand. Jaskier flinches just a little, but turns his hand up into Geralt’s, fingers pressing against the endlessly slow pulse of Geralt’s heart.

“I never thought you could love me. How could you, even a little? When you have seen every bad thing I’ve ever done, when you know how angry and snappy I can get? I’m dangerous, and I live a hard life, and I don’t know how to say things, not really.”

He fiddles with Jaskier’s sleeve. The fabric is soft and grounding. He can feel Jaskier’s pulse, beating hard enough to almost break out of his skin.

“I’ve killed….so many things. Been covered so thickly in blood you wouldn’t be able to tell my skin color. I inspire hatred wherever I go. And even if you liked me enough to be a friend…you could have so much, Jaskier, so much more than I could ever give you. Luxury and praise and everything you could ever need to make you the happiest bard on the Continent. As you should be.”

He takes another deep breath, raising his eyes from where his hand curves around Jaskier’s and focusing them on Jaskier’s eyes instead. They are a deep, ethereal color that you would be hard-pressed to find in the natural world. It is as if the only place this color exists is within Jaskier’s eyes.

A tiny smile forms on Jaskier’s lips. Geralt wants to kiss it until it grows, but he won’t. It isn’t his place, not now, not yet. He is here only to put everything he is at Jaskier’s feet and see what he will do with it.

So he does.

“You’re it, for me. You’re everything. You’re the soft bed and the warm water of the bath at the end of the night. You’re the cool breeze in the hot months, the whetstone to sharpen my sword, my connection to the world. You’re hope and goodness. I never saw the world as good before you. It was only ever pain and hatred; there was a desire to survive, but no reason to. And then you. I could never tell you everything you are, not if I lived until the sun burnt itself out and fell out of the sky. I’m sorry I never told you before. I don’t think I realized it, until you left me.”

He lets go of the breath he was holding, his lips raising into a smile in response to Jaskier’s grin. Jaskier brings their joined hands to his mouth, ghosting a kiss against the back of Geralt’s hand. His lips are soft, as of course they are, and they spread warmth through Geralt’s entire body from the skin they touch.

“And you are all of that to me, too. I did – I do – love you the way I wrote, the way I sang. And more, so much more than I could ever put into words, into song. The words themselves don’t exist, as you once said, quite rudely.

“Of course, the songs were about you. Everything I have ever written has been about you, in some way. Even when I hadn’t met you yet, my songs were about you. Were for you.”

He clears this throat. His eyes are still wet, but Geralt is pretty sure he isn’t sad anymore. He rubs small, slow circles into Jaskier’s palm, relishing the feel of his soft skin.

“But, dear,” Jaskier smiles, reassured by Geralt’s widening eyes and smile at the term.

“You mustn’t think those things about yourself. You, love, are everything good and pure and noble. And I’m sorry that the world makes you think anything else. You protect people who don’t deserve it, save hundreds of people for a pittance, without ever uttering a complaint. Who could blame you for getting angry or short tempered once in a while? I, in your position, would be the worst terror the world has ever seen, if I was treated as you are.

“So please, do not think those things. I will do everything I can to force those horrible thoughts out of your mind. I will make you see yourself the way I do. And try to get you to love yourself even a fraction of the amount that I do.”

Jaskier whispers now, breathing the words so that they can barely be heard in the still room. “I was hurt, after Kaer Mohren. I thought I was never anything to you. If I had been, you would have protected me. Not that I needed protection, mind you, but it’s just kind of…your thing. You protect people, especially the ones you love. I saw what you did for Ciri. And you didn’t do that for me.”

Jaskier stops Geralt’s protest by pressing their clasped hands to his lips to prevent them from moving.

“I know why, dear, now. It’s alright. I love you for what you did there.

“But even though I was hurt, I never let you go, not really. I’m not capable of it, I’m finding. I sing my songs to try and get you out of my system, but it never works. I still want you the same way I always do, maybe even a little more every day. And if what you said is true, then…”

Jaskier flits his eyes between Geralt’s bright eyes and his lips, back and forth and back again. His voice cracks a little when he speaks.

“But…I have to know. Why would you never say anything earlier? If you felt this? Take a chance…why push me away?”

Geralt hums. “Why didn’t you? I barely knew what I felt. How do you label the feeling of love when no one has ever inspired it before? When no one has told you what it feels like? And I was scared, of what it meant. If I said something, even just about my own confused emotions, and then lost you to my own stupidity or to something I couldn’t save you from, how could I handle it? So I did nothing. It was safer.”

Jaskier presses his forehead against Geralt’s, his breaths ghosting over his cheeks and lips, soft enough to barely be felt.

“But not better. Not happier.”

“No.” A deep inhale from Geralt’s throat, a huff from Jaskier.

“Definitely not happier”

Jaskier shifts forward, the lightest brush of lips against Geralt’s. It’s the crack of a firecracker and the chuckles at the end of a good spell of laughter, and so much more. It’s hope and trust and adoration.

It’s everything.

------------------

epilogue.

“Actually, you were wrong about a bit of it.”

“Oh, really? Tell me, dear witcher, dear heart, my darling, what exaaactly, was I wrong about?”

They have left the inn behind for the night, both of them feeling slightly claustrophobic in the tight room with no windows. Geralt is always more comfortable in nature, where he can keep an eye on Roach and breathe in the air freely. There are always too many human scents in buildings, anyway, and they throw him off.

He and Jaskier lay side by side under the stars atop path-worn bedrolls, placed so close as to be on top of the other. They touch along the sides of their bodies; boots bump together, thighs align and warm each other, fingers intertwine and glance along knuckles. The chirps of the crickets and Roach’s steady chewing of the grass are the only sounds in all the world.

“It wasn’t impossible for me to ever love you. It would be impossible for me not to love you. How could I not, when you are the only one who ever really saw me? And wanted me, sought me out when you could be anywhere else, were the only one who wasn’t thrown in my path by destiny? How could I ever escape loving you, when you took care of Roach and stayed with me even when my potions weren’t wearing off? I never knew what it was, that feeling, but I think it’s been there for a long time. Maybe it was there since I was born, and I was always looking for you to put a name to it. Even if destiny had no hand in it.”

Jaskier turns his head to look at Geralt, who has his eyes closed and the smallest smile on his lips. Content. Glowing under the moonlight like only he could.

“And I can’t believe you wouldn’t think I could love you, think that I could get over you in such a short time. A few months, really dear? Have you seen yourself? It would take the lifetimes of a million gods for me to get over you. Maybe not even then. Do you think I would care for just anyone’s horse, or wash anyone else’s hair? It’s only you, Geralt. Always, forever you.”

Smiles grow, fingers clasp, heads turn and press lips together. And it’s everything.

[jaskefer]

ok so not to be back on the apology meta train like 3 months after the season dropped, but i have been thinkin about it a lot lately, and honestly just falling back on the idea that it feels hollow because it feels like Geralt is only apologizing for half of what happened.

like! S1E6 was left with a pretty open ending in general, but with the way Jaskier walked away from Geralt saying he’d “see him around,” there’s at least some implication in this that it was Jaskier who left first. But then S2 drives home the point that oh no, actually, it was Geralt who left Jaskier. 

“After everything we did, we saw, you turned your back on me.”

“I haven’t seen Geralt in months. Not since he abandoned me in Caingorn...”

“You left me on a mountain.”

and when Geralt does actually apologize, it comes on the back of Jaskier’s statement about friends coming back. This focus on the act of leaving winds up making it feel like that’s the only thing Geralt’s apologizing for, and not also the fact that he blamed Jaskier for everything that complicated his life and wished that he could be rid of him. Additionally, we never actually get to see the act of Geralt abandoning Jaskier. We only learn about that after the fact; meanwhile, we got to actually see Geralt turning around and lashing out at him. Between the two, which one holds the most relevancy and emotional impact to the audience?

It’s not that S2 never touches on Geralt’s words at all; Jaskier brings it up during the initial reunion (“The last time we met, you basically told me to fuck off”) and also in a roundabout way on the journey to find Ciri (“People do stupid things when they think they’re trapped in a corner, Geralt. And they say stupid things). It’s just that it wraps up the entirety of the event—both the harsh words and the leaving—into one blanket statement, and as a result, winds up giving the impression that Geralt is expressing remorse for only one of those two things, because all of the emphasis is placed on Jaskier being abandoned.

and mmm I’d end it there but tbh I was typing this all up the other day and had a few thoughts about Geralt as a man of action over words, and started wondering if the reason Jaskier was willing to go with him when Geralt asked for his help is because Geralt coming back to him was in and of itself an act of apology. That it was Geralt admitting that he was wrong to have blamed Jaskier for what his own words and actions had gotten him into. A means of saying, without words, “I was wrong to treat you like you were at fault for this. It’s my mess, but I trust you, and would like you to be by my side again as I try to fix it.” 

but idk. there’s still a lot of emptiness that could be filled where all of this stands, and room for the weight of Geralt’s words to still land heavy on their shoulders.

[just-an17archer]

Witcher Season 2 (beware spoilers)

S2 is a good season.

As a books fan I know better than no one that there were some things in s2 in which they took a lot of creative liberties, - something that's not necessarily wrong-, and yet they also changed some things that rightfully enraged the book and games fans (Netflix Eskel I'm looking at you).

Still why all the hate? Its seems like all these people hating on s2 never watched an adaptation- of course there are things they'll change! Of course there are characters that don't look at all like we imagined they would! But when an adaptation of a beloved book series takes place, there are things that we musn't get overly attached to, because they can't be 100% faithfull with the time they are given and the stories that don't adapt well to the big screen.

For example, Yennefer and Cahir's arc after thr Battle of Sodden never happened in the books, and yet I found myself curious and excited to find out where it would lead-, it showed us the development of Jaskier and Yennefer's friendship and them bonding over Geralt, including an amazingly addictive 'break-up' song; it also showed us another side of Cahir

BOOK SPOILERS

that will help audiences understand the character when he ultimately joins Geralt's Company to help Ciri.

Yennefer's arc with Ciri was completely different, I think they had to adapt it in a different way to be able to fit it in the season without it being overwhelming. Still, we got to see the development of Ciri and Yennefer's relationship that will continue to improve in the future.

Ciri's story was also a tad different, but I think all the main points came across very well- the family she found with the Witchers, her relationship with Triss (that in my opinion was extremely well made and amazingly faithfull to the books), her training at Kaer Morhen under the Witchers' guidance, her daughter-like relationship to Yennefer and especially Geralt, and a better understanding of her powers.

I wasn't a massive fan of all the Deathless Mother focus, kind of meh, but on the other hand she helped show some of Ciri's potential, introduce the Wild Hunt and some lore of the universe.

I loved Jaskier's development with him standing up for himself but ultimately forgiving Geralt, showing how strong their friendship is. Geralt is also amazing, seeing him come from not needind anybody and preferring to be alone, to accepting and admitting his father-role to Ciri, his friendship with Jaskier and truly appreciating him, his brotherhood with the rest of the Witchers, as well as him standing up to Yennefer.

Okay, I can't excuse what they did to Eskel's character, I remember him from the books as he was my favorite Witcher besides Geralt- he had such a sweet personality and he was Geralt's closest brother and friend, and yet in the series he basically turned into a tree and procceded to die... Here I can't see any reason as to why they would do this, they could simply create another Witcher and not use one that has such a big fandom base.

Overall I really loved this season, I think it made some big advances in the action, especially with the amazing plot-twist at the end (that happens only in the last book but I think it was revealed in the show at exactly the right time because it will help increase the hype to know what will happen next); and I also enjoyed the characters that were introduced, like Fenn and Codringher, Djikstra (who looked exactly like I imagined he would), Phillipa Eilhart, Vesemir, Lamber, Cöen...

In conclusion, don't hate on a series that is amazing and that so many people love, why don't you stop spreading all this hate and blowing things out of proportion when we are lucky to have a series such as these.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[dsudis]

Fic! And a thought

I wrote fic!! And now it even has my name attached to it!

Your Lonesome Surprise (2466 words)

Fandom:

Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emhyr var Emreis & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Additional Tags: Fatherhood, Father-Daughter Relationship, Witcher Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Surprise nudity, Talking, Very Nearly Acknowledging An Emotion, I Shook an Emperor and Intergenerational Trauma Fell Out

Summary:

Ciri chose the Path, but she still wonders about Emhyr sometimes, and because Geralt can never say no to her, today he's going to look in on the Emperor of Nilfgaard. What could possibly go wrong?

------------------

And in the course of writing this story (and in the last few days, watching people react to it during the anonymous guessing stage of the flashfic challenge) a thought crystallized for me that I don’t think ever quite had before, which is:

The fact that Geralt has a claim on Ciri is the ultimate proof that Duny had no ill intentions up to that point.

Encouraging someone to invoke the Law of Surprise against you--and Duny was insistent in offering, and knew EXACTLY what his open-ended offering was inviting, given his claim on Pavetta--is not the act of a scheming mastermind, someone who is trying to control the outcome toward some secret purpose. It’s the act of a young man caught up in his own Romantic Destiny and utterly certain that he cannot go wrong by encouraging Destiny to take another turn in his life.

And look what that got him.

(I mean, in truth what it got him, and the world, was the saving of Ciri’s life; what was going to go hideously wrong wasn’t something Duny could have averted without being supernaturally resistant to Vilgefortz’s persuasion. But when Duny offered Geralt a boon in exchange for his life, Destiny took the chance to ensure that Ciri would make it out alive, with a protector who could prepare her for her Destiny.)

[warmrainonawinterday]

So. Season 2 of Netflix's The Witcher, huh. I was disappointed.

What I liked:

- Jaskier's singing 💜

- proper screen time and lines of dialogue for the bruxa as well as Nivellen's confession that he raped the priestess being served as a gut punch at the end rather than being either omitted or admitted off the bat

- the dynamic between Geralt and Ciri is genuinely heartwarming

- I like the thought behind getting a more expansive look at Nilfgaard and what kind of person Fringilla is and what exactly the elves are up to. The execution was... meh, but I appreciate the effort.

- Fringilla paralizing and killing those guys in the dining hall

All the things I disliked:

- What I wanted was a plotline involving Yennefer that would deepen her character. What I got was bullshit. What was the fucking point of her losing her magic and running around like a headless chicken for the entire season leading up to her flimsy "betrayal" of Ciri to basically not matter and just be used as an excuse for another cheap action setpiece for the season finale. Was the Yen & Cahir Roadtrip really worth the screen time only for the audience to not even really learn any new information about Yen or Cahir in the process in the end. I also thought it was useless to spend so much time on Tissaia and Geralt believing Yen to be dead when we know the entire time that of course she isn't

- With Yennefer apparently on the run now, is the show going to adapt the coup without Yen and Geralt attending the ball?

- Vilgefortz and Tissaia... why? What does this add?

- it is baffling to me that the show had Jaskier and Cahir meet now, kind of? Is Jaskier just going to do a double take and side-eye him extra hard when he shows up in Baptism of Fire and joins the gang on the Road Trip To Find Ciri? Are they not going to recognize each other? "Hey Geralt, don't worry about the man who haunts Ciri's worst nightmares, I saw him travelling with Yen not too long ago, he's not that bad"?

- the (non-book-canon) 'conflict' of "Do Yen and Geralt only fake love each other because of djinn magic?" remains unresolved/is swept under the rug, not to mention the extremely lazy Geralt and Jaskier friendship reunion (resulting from yet another non-book-canon conflict)

- the sheer amount of (at times really cheap-looking) huge monsters that Geralt fights made them feel like video game quest boss battles and this got stale and tiring and boring real fucking fast. And not once was there a great battle sequence with Ciri and Geralt properly fighting together

- Not enough Philippa Eilhart content considering just how many times her owl form was shown

- With all this focus on the elves, where the FUCK are the Scoia'tael and why have they never even been referred to by name yet?

- What a waste of potential to have Ciri only stay at Melitele's temple for a few hours instead of getting the book plot of her actually getting an education there and slowly forming a bond with Yennefer on her own without Geralt being present. As cute as the instant-family bond of the show was starting from Ciri walking in on Yen and Geralt, it didn't quite feel earned.

- Falka's introduction to the show's lore was badly done. Also, no one wanted or needed extended Stregebor screen time, I am sure of it

- The half-hearted adaptations of the book monologues that Triss directs at Geralt (and the other witchers) fell sadly flat

- Why WAS Ciri constantly training by mindlessly beating the shit out of a. thin air, and b. an unmoving straw dummy. That's not fight training, that's dance choreography. I wanted to like the "parkour training course" more, I imagined it to be more complex and longer than it was

- Justice for Eskel. I also don't know how Netflix could possibly expect me to care about the deaths of some of the witchers when they barely got referred to by name and had no real space to develop personalities or a bond with Ciri.

I am not that much of a book snob that I am just crying about any and all book changes. In fact, I have a personal laundry list of Book Canon that I would love to have never happened or be changed beyond the point of recognition. It's just that with a character dynamic like that of Yennefer and Ciri it is baffling to me how anyone could look at the season two finale and think it was an improvement in comparison to the source material. Seemingly done just because the show needed flashy action scenes for the finale which, yeah, admittedly, isn't really found in Blood of Elves.

[thearvariblues]

The Witcher Eurovision!AU

Just an idea that got into my head while I was in the shower, since, as every European and non-European on this hellsite knows, it’s Eurovision night, baby!

So it goes like this:

Jaskier is a semi-famous (AKA Youtube-famous, probably) English singer with songs that range from “a bit weird but I love it” to “completely deranged and I LOVE IT” - a bit like The Amazzing Devil, obviously

he draws his inspiration from his life - like the time he gets inspired by a D&D campaign he plays with Geralt and writes Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (but Arvari, haven’t you already written that– Oh, shut up, brain, this is COMPLETELY different than the last time!)

he plays the song to Geralt before he records it, and Geralt, while secretly loving it and trying very hard not to blush, is like “Jesus, Jaskier, this is probably the shittiest thing you’ve ever written”

“Ex-fucking-CUSE ME, Geralt, it’s a lovely song, I could probably win the Eurovision with it!”

“Jask, if you somehow manage to be chosen for the Eurovision with this shit, I’m gonna be your background pole dancer, because that’s the only way I could make someone toss a coin to me.” (They’re both a bit drunk at this point, obviously.)

anyway, challenge fucking accepted

Jaskier knows there’s only one person who could help him to make this happen - so he tells Yen, Geralt’s ex-wife

who laughs for like ten minutes when she imagines her hunk of an ex-husband fucking pole dancing, and then immediately promises to do something about it

she pulls some strings, maybe sucks a few cocks - Jaskier is honestly too afraid to ask - but she gets him in

FUCK

so apparently, Geralt now has to learn to pole-dance

F-U-C-K

when Lambert (who, in this incarnation, is ginger and angry and Scottish, because fucking reasons that have nothing to do with a fact that I’m personally into ginger Scottish men, no ma’am) hears about it, he absolutely loses it

he demands to be allowed to go to the finale with them (and fucking hell, Geralt didn’t want anyone to know, and now everyone does, even people who don’t even know what Eurovision is, and Ciri has told all her friends and Geralt now prays that the ground would just open and swallow him whenever he has to pick her up from school and runs into one of her friends’ mothers...)

anyway, Lambert is allowed to come. So is Eskel. So is Yen and her wife Triss and of course Ciri. And Lambert’s boyfriend Aiden, because Lambert won’t take no for an answer.

Valdo Marx is sent a very special invitation which he very impolitely declines

also Lambert, who’s spent some time traveling with Aiden, bullies every non-British friend he has into voting for the stupid bard and the hot pole dancer (it doesn’t take much convincing once he shows them a video from Geralt’s rehearsal)

anyway the first time Jaskier sees Geralt actually do his pole-dancing number, he very nearly has a heart-attack

(no, he hasn’t been madly in love with Geralt ever since he met him twelve years ago, why are you asking?!)

he is pretty sure he’s not gonna survive the three minutes on stage with Geralt, but baby, what a way to go

he does survive

even though he spends the three minutes giving Geralt heart eyes that the whole of Europe can see

and call it adrenaline, but when the song comes to an end and Geralt gets down from his pole, Jaskier does the unthinkable and just... fucking kisses him

and Geralt just... kisses him back?

at this point, Lambert loses it again, and the whole audience with him

of course, they now have to wait a few hours before they can talk about it properly, but... Geralt it holding Jaskier’s hand while waiting for the results in the green room and WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

if Jaskier had known, he’d have gone into the Eurovision like ten years ago

or just kissed the idiot

anyway, this is how the UK finally wins the Eurovision, thanks for coming to my TED talk

[dapandapod]

So Jaskilion, thank you for the music, Jaskier wearing a gown, the bards just being somfte 🥺

Bards just being somfte, how about bards being somft HUSBANDS? For my sweet @jaskierswolf, after the wonderful ABBA marathon we had, and thank you @kuripon for doing a beta read in the middle of the night. My middle of the night, to be fair, but still!!

Warnings: mention of past harrassment and Geralt's accordion. That in itself needs a warning I think. Oh and, Dandelion is having a really bad day.

On Ao3 here! <3

Dandelion is so fucking tired. Some days are really just out to get you, and this day in particular seems to want him to have some sort of breakdown.

Anything that could go wrong did go wrong. Murphy’s law and all that. He stepped in a muddy puddle that was deeper than it seemed, he got stuck in the elevator for an hour, the trains were late, his boss were yelling at him (again, Valdo should go sit on something prickly), his computer froze while screen sharing during an important meeting, his food tasted vaguely like fish because the person before him didn’t obey the unspoken golden rule about not reheating fish dinners in their microwave in the office and -

Yes. Long fucking day.

The worst part about it?

He is this close to missing one of the most important nights this year, nay, his life.

Jaskier is singing tonight.

It’s been a while, a very long while in fact, since Jaskier stood on a stage last. When they met, Jaskier used to do musicals, karaoke nights, weddings. His voice is rich, beautiful, a voice that drives off the darkness of the night.

Jaskier sang at their wedding.

But after one particular incident while playing the lead role in a musical, a coworker who had harassed Jaskier to the extent that they had to go to court to keep him safe, Jaskier never stepped up on a stage again.

He tried.

Dandelion watched his hands shake, his face getting paler and sweat dripping down his neck. He heard his voice crack, his breath hitch, and the sobs in the back rooms where he thought no one could hear.

And then he just never performed for others again.

So tonight is very fucking important.

It’s just a small neighbourhood talent show, kitchen chairs collected and pushed together in front of a makeshift theater. Dandelion and Jaskier had helped prepare a few nights before, dining on the kitchen floor in wait for the big day, laughing and teasing each other.

And here Dandelion is, about to fucking miss it.

He looks at his watch one more time. It has already started, but Jaskier is the second to last act tonight, right before the big finale with Tissaia and her little magic helpers.

If he runs, he might make it. Hopefully.

Bursting through the doors, making old Vesemir jump in surprise, Dandelion makes it just in time for little Ciri to get up on stage and do her puppet show.

Gods, just in time.

Vesemir glares at him, but Dandelion just pats his shoulder as he passes, squeezing himself deeper into the room, closer to the stage. He has a stitch in his side from running, and this shirt will need a good washing tonight, but that is a small sacrifice.

Sitting down next to Ciri’s mother in the second row, he finally catches his breath. He is here. He made it.

Now he only hopes Jaskier makes it on the stage.

They talked about that too. There is no shame in backing out, none at all. Jaskier’s well being is more important than anything else. Dandelion will support Jaskier in anything he chose to pursue.

He just hopes the small spark Jaskier has been nursing these last few days will stay.

They all applaud politely when Ciri steps off the stage, Pavetta finally letting her phone fall into her lap, pausing what is sure to be the biggest spam on social media (this week) about her daughter’s many talents.

Ciri is an incredible girl; whenever they had the honor of babysitting her, she and Dandelion would spend hours by the piano. Or the guitar. Or the ukulele. Or the lute. Or the violin….

Triss walks up on the stage, thanking Ciri through a small and rather crackly microphone. Next up is Jaskier.

Dandelion's heart is in his throat. Jaskier didn’t want to tell him what song he chose, only that it would be something very special.

When his husband comes out on stage, Dandelion feels like he wants to fall to one knee all over again, butterflies dancing and swirling in his stomach.

The gown he wears is a deep blue, sparkling in the small spotlight, making him the focus of everyone's attention. Dandelion recognizes it immediately from Halloween a few years back, when there was a Eurovision theme.

Jaskier’s eyes roam the small audience desperately, and when his eyes fall on Dandelion, the tightness in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

He is still a little pale, and Dandelion can make out the small tremble in his hands when he reaches for the microphone in Triss’ hand, but oh, how very proud Dandelion is of him.

Jaskier’s eyes never let go of him, and when he walks the two small steps to the middle of the stage, Dandelion feels each foot fall through his own body.

“Thank you all for being here tonight.” Jaskier begins. “I would like to dedicate this song to the love of my life, and no, I’m not talking about this dress.”

Jaskier’s smile is blinding, and Dandelion hears the crowd chuckle.

“Dandelion, my beloved husband, thank you for always being there for me, thank you for drinking my terrible coffee, thank you for always, always believing in me. For always keeping the music alive within me, with or without words.”

Jaskier points to Triss on the edge of the stage, and she starts what is unmistakably ABBA.

“Thank you for the music, my love.”

The performance is a bit shaky. It is bound to be, Jaskier is fighting for every breath, every note, but it is every bit as beautiful and rich and clear as it ever was. As it has been in the shower, in the kitchen, in Dandelion's arms as they slow-dance around their living room at one in the morning.

The dress sparkles as Jaskier takes a few tentative steps, eyes again roaming the crowd, only to return to Dandelion to anchor him once more.

Dandelion could cry.

He registers Pavetta holding her phone up again. He will have to ask for the pictures (hopefully it's video) after. Right now, Dandelion's hand is pressed over his mouth, trying his utmost to hold back.

“I've been so lucky, I have a love with golden hair I wanna sing it out to everybody What a joy, what a life, what a chance.”

Jaskier sings, winking at Dandelion. Jaskier always loved Dandelion's blonde hair, playing with his curls, dragging his fingers through the silky strands.

The last notes ring out, and the audience clap politely again.

They don’t know how big this is.

Now Dandelion has to stay in his chair until Tissaia has finished her magic tricks, until the last little girls have scampered off stage, and Triss declaring Geralt and his accordion the winner for tonight.

Vesemir hoots loudly in the back, stomping his feet, and then Dandelion is out of his chair. The entire day has been shit, but to hold Jaskier in his arms, high on nervous energy and victorious joy, everything is forgotten.

The dress is a little scratchy under his hands, as is Jaskier's stubble against his cheek, but he holds him tight, as close to his heart he can muster.

“I am so proud of you,” he whispers, and he can hear Jaskier let out a happy little sniffle. “Let’s get home and get drunk off our asses.”

“We just need to find our chairs again, I’m not sitting on the floor in this dress,” Jaskier replies.

“How about no dress, the couch, and that strange cherry vodka you brought home the other day,” Dandelion bargains, kissing Jaskier's temple and grabbing his hand to walk back towards their house.

Jaskier thinks it over for a moment.

“Done. But only if we can blast ABBA so loud, the neighbours at the end of the street will hum Waterloo in their sleep!”

If Dandelion hadn’t already married this man, by gods, he would again.

[endiness]

i wanna make a real in depth debunking post about s2 at some point given the truly absurd amount of misinformation and misunderstandings when it comes to the season. but as for now, just some points i'd like to address.

"why was the season like thatTM."

so, the two biggest reasons for why the show ended up changing a lot of things from the books in s2 and adding a lot of new stuff can basically be attributed to covid delaying filming and henry cavill's interference with the writing. the original version of the season was actually much, much closer to the books, but that was changed (at least partially) because with covid delaying filming so much and thus the premiere, the writers weren't sure how receptive the audience would be to the season if it were more like the books and didn't have as much action and was fairly slow-paced especially on geralt's side of things. (which, in retrospect, was a completely founded fear given the general audience reaction to the end of s3 and how they found it "boring" and "anticlimactic" after the big battle even though the events that take place after that is how the books themselves end.)

on top of that, henry cavill did not want to play geralt struggling with fatherhood in any way and he basically only wanted to play geralt with positive character traits and that's it. and quarantine gave the writers enough time to rewrite the scripts to fit what he wanted. which ended up causing a huge domino effect that resulted in eskel's death (which was basically written because the writers needed some kind of external event and mystery to drive geralt's actions forward for the season as they couldn't write any internal struggles for him because henry cavill didn't want to play that), yennefer's betrayal (which was basically written to 'balance' things out with geralt's perfectTM fatherhood 'arc'), and voleth meir being the big bad of the season (originally voleth meir was just supposed to be in one episode but the writers changed that to tie into the larger mystery of the season that geralt was investigating.)

"henry cavill pushed for more book accuracy in s2 and he was the only one who cared about the source material."

that's just a pr campaign he ran against the writers and the show to deflect from the changes he made that went against the books (like cutting geralt's lines in s1 and either saying nothing or just grunting instead) and because he was mad that he was co-lead with two women (ciri is the main character of the main book series which is what the show started adapting from s2 onward, just fyi) and that the show heavily revolves around women (y'know, like the books do).

"eskel was ooc so that means the writers didn't understand his character."

eskel was intentionally written out of character because he was infected by the leshy. both geralt and vesemir comment on how eskel is not acting like himself. there is a flashback in the next episode of eskel with a disposition closer to that of his character in the books. (also, just fyi, but eskel really only appears in any kind of serious capacity in, like, 2 chapters in boe and that's it. the fandom (and the games, i guess, idk) have really overblown and exaggerated his importance tbh.)

"but why would vesemir try to create new witchers."

because his child had just died and he'd already basically lost the ability to have more children. only to then discover that he could have more children using ciri's blood. basically, he tried to make new witchers because he was grieving as a father and handling it all very poorly. (psst, this is an overarching theme with the season.)

"yennefer tried to kill ciri."

that literally didn't happen. the deal yennefer made with voleth meir was to deliver a completely random girl whom she did not know to cintra. the deal was not to kill ciri. (that doesn't even make sense with what voleth meir wanted, and used, ciri for anyway.) also, yennefer made the deal with voleth meir not only to get her magic back but because she didn't want to die as she was basically about to be dragged off to be executed right before that happened. also, yennefer was under voleth meir's influence the whole time which we know not only because fringilla and francesca were also under her influence the entire season but also because ciri was able to break through it at one point, after which yennefer immediately warned ciri away from her. and then yennefer literally died to save ciri in the next episode. also, like, just to point this out but yennefer's ~betrayal of geralt and ciri only really lasts, like, one episode.

[fandom-star]

Title: An Oxenfurt Reunion

Prompt: Ciri made him do it

Pairing: Ciri & Geralt, Jaskier & Geralt

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Written for @themountainarchives

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“Where is the bard?” Ciri asked as Geralt worked on the campfire. Frowning, the Witcher glanced up and hummed questioningly. “The bard you talk about so often? Jaskier?” Ciri clarified, fidgeting with the ends of her hair. “Where is he?” A sad sound escaped Geralt’s mouth as he sat back on his haunches, carefully watching the fire come to life. He hummed again. “Don’t know,” he quietly admitted. “We parted ways nearly two years ago. I haven’t seen him since.” A long unfelt sense of fear that Jaskier might be dead began to spread through his chest. “Why did you leave each other?” Ciri asked, pulling a sad sigh from her companion. “I was… cruel to him. Someone hurt me, and I took it out on him,” Geralt told her, feeling distant. “I wish I hadn’t.” The pair sat in silence, both gazing into the flames. Suddenly, Ciri stood and moved to sit at Geralt’s side. His eyes carefully rested on her. “Why haven’t you told him that?” Yellow eyes blinked at her. “I told you. I haven’t seen him since he rightfully left me.” “But you haven’t looked for him,” Ciri pointed out. “If you did, you might find him.” Dryly, Geralt chuckled. “I doubt he’d appreciate it,” he told her, shaking his head despondently. “And I wouldn’t know where to start.” “Didn’t you say he teaches in Oxenfurt during the Winter?” Ciri immediately said, as though she’d predicted that particular argument. It was a well-timed suggestion, with it being two weeks to the end of the Autumn. Shaking his head, Geralt sighed before gently nudging Ciri’s arm. “Get some sleep.”

One week later, Geralt found himself leading Roach and Ciri over the bridge to Oxenfurt. His throat felt tight with nerves. A gentle touch to his wrist startled him slightly, before he found that it was Ciri. “Are you okay?” she asked. Geralt nodded, before saying, “Yes.” After walking for a couple of blocks, Geralt stopped himself and his companions in their tracks, hearing a familiar voice and music. He felt Ciri’s expectant eyes on him, and he took a breath before continuing on in the direction of the sounds. There was a stage set up in the middle of a square, and upon it was an unmistakable figure prancing around with a lute and wearing clothing somewhat more subdued than it was when Geralt had last seen it, but no less outlandish. “Is that him?” Ciri quietly prompted. Entranced, Geralt nodded. “Yeah. That’s Jaskier.” He was thankful that Ciri didn’t push any further, and they stayed standing on the sidelines of the crowd, watching Jaskier perform. From what Geralt could tell, it seemed to be some sort of entertainment showcase for the end of the harvest season. As Jaskier took his bows and teased his rapt audience a little before jumping from the stage. Geralt found himself lost in his head trying to recall the last time he’d heard the bard sing, before he found himself staring blankly at smart, fashionable boots and forest green breeches that definitely didn’t belong to Ciri. When he looked up at the owner, he wasn’t surprised to find Jaskier staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you, Geralt?” he asked, coolly. “You’re kind of hard to miss.” “Jaskier.” Geralt whispered. “Indeed I am,” Jaskier agreed, before his eyes fell onto Ciri. “This is-” “Ciri. The child surprise.” Geralt said. He turned to the girl, having admittedly forgotten about her for a brief moment, and handed her Roach’s reins. “We passed an inn on one of the street corners, the gold is in the front pouch. See if you can get us a room there and if there are any stables for Roach.” Ciri looked as though she wanted to protest, before nodding and leading Roach in the direction Geralt had indicated. “You’ve mellowed,” Jaskier commented, before asking, “What are you doing here, Geralt?” Geralt swallowed. “I miss you.” was the only thing he could think to say in response. He could feel Jaskier’s unimpressed expression. “That’s nice.” the bard replied, blandly. Groaning, Geralt rubbed at his eyes in frustration. “I miss you. And I wish that I hadn’t said what I said to you on that mountain. Which doesn’t negate that I did, but I’m sorry for putting all that blame on you, and for… just… being cruel even before that. I-” “I know, Geralt,” Jaskier interrupted, and Geralt looked up to see the bard’s eyes shining. “I miss you too.” Jaskier took an uncertain step closer, and Geralt made the next move for him, pressing forwards and wrapping his arms around the bard. Sighing, Jaskier hugged him back and pressed his face into the Witcher’s neck, despite it surely being uncomfortable to do so over his armour. Tentatively, Geralt pressed his own face into Jaskier’s soft hair and breathed in his scent. “Ciri made me come,” Geralt admitted, quietly. “I talk about you too much. I probably would have never come so that I had the excuse of never running into you by chance if she hadn’t told me I could just come here.” Jaskier chuckled. “She sounds smart. And she can handle you, which I applaud. I’d like to meet her properly.” “You and Ciri would be a partnership to be reckoned with,” Geralt laughed. “I need to check that she got us a room anyway, why don’t you come with me?” Jaskier grinned, and pulled away to gesture for Geralt to take the lead.

[jaskiersvalley]

Wolf, Werewolf, Swearwolf

Over the years winters at Kaer Morhen had become quite the social event. What had been sullen, quiet seasons of four miserable and tired witchers had blossomed into something so much more. It had started with Jaskier. Then Geralt had brought Ciri along and Yennefer had a knack for dropping by. There was a lot of ribbing and jesting how the most standoffish lone wolf was single-handedly responsible for bringing a veritable party to the old keep. The year he brought Cahir along too, some of the teasing fell away, mostly because Eskel and Lambert were too busy competing for his affections. That spring, Cahir set out to join Eskel on the path but they both kissed Lambert goodbye with the promise of meeting up with him throughout the year.

One thing was standard for the winter though, the ever present swear jar. It had gotten rather large over the years yet it always seemed to fill up.

“Morning cocksuckers,” Lambert would announce as he arrived for breakfast, heading for the jar before the food to drop off the fine. He claimed it was absolutely worth it. Poor Vesemir wondered where he had gone so wrong with Lambert, his mouth only seemed to get fouler as the years went on. It had become a bit of a running joke between Eskel and Vesemir that Lambert funded most of Kaer Morhen’s necessities for the year with his swearing.

As far as Aiden was concerned, Lambert had some very strange habits. He refused to buy a horse, spent his coin so frugally that it was almost to his detriment. And spare money was squirrelled away dutifully and never seen again. It was a bit frustrating whenever they met up because Aiden liked to treat himself and had grown to want to give Lambert nice things too. More often than not, he ended up paying for a room at an inn, nicer meals than the bare minimum just because it didn’t feel right to miss out. It also, selfishly, meant that Aiden could watch Lambert sigh in happiness when he got a rare treat.

“What you doing for winter?” Aiden had asked and Lambert rolled his eyes. They were meant to be hunting a griffin but there was no sign of it.

“Oh sheesh, I don’t know. Maybe returning to that musty old keep.”

There was a screech in the distance and Lambert looked up as the griffin was dive bombing them.

“Oh fudge.”

It was much later that Lambert realised just what Aiden had been trying to ask.

“You know, if you want to, you could come home with me.” He had a suspicion that Eskel and Cahir would love Aiden too.

“I’d be delighted,” Aiden replied with a grin. “You’re a numpty if you thought I would ever refuse.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a nincompoop.” Lambert stuck his tongue out at Aiden.

That was how the two ended up climbing the mountain, Lambert sometimes snarling a “stupid branch” or “dumb piece of trash”. It was all rather familiar and Aiden was quietly charmed by Lambert all over again. That all changed as soon as they walked through the keep.

“What’s up bitches? Guess who’s back!”

“Lambert,” Vesemir greeted. “And friend.”

Strolling through, Lambert was instinctively reaching for his coin pouch. “”Aiden, the old fart is Vesemir. Snowman and Sunshine are Geralt and Jaskier. Eskel and Cahir will be along later. And this fucker-” he dropped a coin in the swear jar, “-is the fucking-” another coin, “-swear fucking-” yet another coin, “-jar.”

A little stunned, Aiden stared at Lambert, not understanding the change. His eyes strayed to the jar as Vesemir pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We have a swear jar, not that it seems to deter certain people from dirty language.” At least Vesemir looked a little chagrined at Lambert’s unusual behaviour and Aiden’s gaze drifted back to his wolf.

“Damn fucking right,” Lambert grinned and dropped another coin into the almost empty jar. However, there was something in his face, a veiled worry mixed with pleading hope. It was something Aiden would need to try and tease out of him later, without an audience.

As promised, Eskel and Cahir arrived a few days later, looking road weary. And Lambert had been absolutely right, Eskel adored Aiden. There was a bit of tension between Cahir and the newest addition to the dynamic but, one evening they disappeared, only resurfacing for dinner, looking rather too smug. Lambert should have known to be scared.

It all started off so normal, everyone sat around the table, chatter a low murmur. Which was how Lambert only just about caught the nod between Cahir and Aiden before it all kicked off.

“This meal is fucking delicious,” Aiden announced. Down the table Ciri looked up.

“Swear jar!” She took far too much delight in reminding her family of its existence, especially as she tended to reap the benefits of a full swear jar the most. It meant that they could stock up on more expensive spices and treats for the winter.

“Yeah, Aiden,” Cahir drawled, “pay the fuck up.”

To prove his point, Cahir tossed a coin to the middle of the tabled.

“Fucking fine,” Lambert snapped and two coins landed next to Cahir’s. Everyone stared at them, not knowing whether it was the start of an argument or not.

In typical Geralt fashion, he tried to intervene. “This is not how we speak at the dinner table.”

Rather than achieve peace, Cahir turned to his friend with a grin. “Hey Geralt? Suck my dick.”

Another coin landed in the middle of the table unrepentant and almost proud. The game was on when Jaskier cottoned on and he slung an arm around Geralt and squeezed. “He can only suck my dick. If you want your nubby excuse of a thing suckled, you have three other bloody mouths to choose from.”

He patted his pockets and pulled out an errant coin, flipping it nonchalantly to join the others.

“Hell no,” Aiden leaned forward. “That little bitch can suck my cock but I don’t kneel for a Niilfgaardian.” Another coin landed on the table.

“Not a sodding Nilfgaardian.” Cahir stood and slapped a handful of coin on the table. “If you think I am, then you should have been a stain on your mother’s chin.”

“Oh fuck off and tell your dad to shit jizz!” Aiden pushed away from the table and stood, adding a larger handful of coin to the rapidly growing pile.

Around them, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir and Geralt looked a little too stunned while Jaskier was cackling.

“Bollocks!” He yelled just to be able to flip a coin up in the air and smack it into the other coins.

“Piss!” Aiden hollered back and laughed.

Cahir snorted out a “shitsticks” much to Eskel’s amusement.

Insults flew around the table amidst wild giggles and the money pile grew and grew until Aiden had one coin left in his hand which he flipped it repeatedly. Obviously, he was mulling something over. Mind made up, he looked around the table. “You’re all a bunch of cunts but I love you all already.”

His last coin was thrown and he sat down, grinning proudly. Cahir settled too, starting to tuck into his meal as if they hadn’t just had a major swearing match. Next to him, Lambert buried his face in his hands, realising what had just happened, embarrassed that two of his boyfriends figured him out so quickly when the rest of his family hadn’t put two and two together. Then again, none of the others spent enough time away from Kaer Morhen with him to know he usually didn’t have such a potty mouth. But, well, someone had to fund a better life for them all and it wasn’t like Lambert could do something nice so obviously. So he swore and paid his fines, letting everyone think he just didn’t care.

At the head of the table, Vesemir cleared his throat and everyone looked up, just to watch him very deliberately add his first coin to the swear jar pile in what had to be several decades.

“You’re all fucking idiots. Literally.”